#i might make one for each of the outsiders (that i can watch the pov of at least)

[weemssapphic]

Split in half

Larissa Weems x f!reader

This is a part two to We're not who we used to be set a few months after that fic, from Larissa's POV. It's just as angsty as part one, maybe even worse. It's inspired by the song Stick Season by Noah Kahan. Enjoy 😅

Words: ~1.5k | ao3 link in title

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

-

“Ow - fuck!”

It takes Larissa’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness blanketing her quarters. She steadies herself against the little table by the door and squints at the floor as she searches for whatever she’s just tripped over that caused her to ram her hip into the corner of said table. 

Now she remembers - she’d changed her mind about her heels that morning and left the initial pair next to the door. She sighs and kicks off the heels she’s wearing now, leaving them lying haphazardly next to the others.

She walks towards the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light now that her eyes have adjusted to the darkness. Pain blooms in her hip, growing sharper with each step - she can already feel the deep purple bruise forming across her hip bone. She opens the fridge and stoops down, the bright, fluorescent glow shooting straight through her eyeballs into her already throbbing skull, making her eyes water. The fridge is nearly empty and Larissa groans in frustration as she closes its door and blindly reaches for the cabinets above the stove instead, running her fingertips across the smooth, familiar wood as her eyes adjust again.

Her fingers bump into the little brass handle and she opens the cabinet, pulling out the first bottle she finds. Whiskey. She opens another cabinet and takes out a crystal tumbler, then pads across her quarters to her little balcony, clutching both bottle and tumbler to her chest. 

A chill seeps through her stockings and straight into her bones as she steps outside, and she grits her teeth as she lowers herself onto the oversized pillow she’d taken out here when she first started spending her evenings after work out on the balcony. 

It’s a lot colder tonight than it was those weeks - or has it been months? - ago. Fall is as good as over, the trees barren of their gorgeous red and orange foliage, but winter hasn’t fully started yet either, the first snowfall having yet to make an appearance.

Larissa pours some of the amber liquid into the tumbler, raising it to her lips and tossing it back in one go. It burns her throat and the swift motion smudges her lipstick, not that that matters. It warms her a little from the inside, so she pours herself another.

She supposes she could do something productive, or at least try to distract herself, but there’s not really a point - she can’t read books or watch films or even knit without spending the entire time trying to reign in her wandering thoughts. Even her work is suffering as a result.

She should’ve seen it coming, really, you leaving her. After all, she thinks bitterly, as her thoughts once again hone in on you, she had been rather absent in your marriage. Even when you told her you were moving out, that you were done trying, she could hardly wrap her head around it. Hardly believe it was actually over.

On the day you’d left, she’d woken up to a horribly loud rummaging in the closet. It was a Sunday, and she remembered the pang of irritation that mixed with her confusion, the frustration that you’d woken her early on the only day she ever slept in. She’d remembered readying herself to berate you, tasting the words on her sharp tongue as she’d pushed herself up onto her elbow - the words dying just as quickly as they’d come when her sleep-filled eyes were met with the sight of your half-full suitcase (the big one, the one you used for longer vacations) on the floor in front of the walk-in. 

Between stuffing everything from your underwear to a few framed photos into the suitcase, you’d explained your reasoning rather coolly for someone who usually wore her heart on her sleeve and cried at even comedy films - it had unsettled Larissa to see you so casual about leaving. Perhaps it was due to this that she didn’t say much. She didn’t say any of the things she should have said, any of the things you might’ve hoped she’d say or the things she wishes today that she had said. She’d watched you pack, nodding along to whatever you were saying about divorce lawyers - divorce? - and robotically seeing you to the door. 

Your tires had screeched a bit on your way down the driveway - the sound rings in Larissa’s ear as she tosses back another tumbler of whiskey.

Everything had passed so quickly after that, weeks and months blurring together. She’d signed the divorce papers in what she can, in hindsight, only describe as a fugue-like state, not realizing until much later the full consequences of her actions. And ‘much later’, apparently, translated into ‘too late’.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad No, I am no longer funny, 'cause I miss the way you laugh You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

One tumbler turns into two turns into three, and then she’s abandoned the glass in favor of drinking straight from the bottle. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her blazer, scrolling to your contact as if on autopilot and staring at it as if it would suddenly come to life.

You’d forgotten an old pair of sneakers at the back of the closet. She’d told you when you’d stopped by with the divorce papers, and you’d told her to just throw them out.

Just throw them out.

It should be so easy. They’re dirty and they stink and the sole is peeling off on the right one. Every time Larissa sees them, she picks them up and wills herself to walk straight to the trash bin. She picks them up - then puts them right back, next to her own rarely-used running shoes.

Larissa clicks ‘call’. She lifts the phone to her ear as she waits, taking another gulp of whiskey. It doesn’t burn anymore.

Her throat gets tighter with every ring, a thin film of tears beginning to blur her eyes. After a few long minutes, the call goes to your voicemail - which is full - and Larissa’s tears spill over, clinging to her lashes before racing each other down her cheeks.

“Pick up, goddamnit!” she growls, her voice hoarse and wet. She tosses her phone angrily onto the floor beside her, not caring if it gets scratched.

There was a time when you’d have picked up the phone in the middle of a packed movie theater if it was her calling - now she hasn’t been able to get ahold of you since the divorce was finalized. It’s at least half her fault, she supposes, but she’s still angry at you for ignoring her. For leaving her. Even if she seemed intent on driving you away.

It’s getting late. Larissa knows this not because she’s checked the time, or because the moon is already high in the night sky, but because time always manages to slip away from her when she’s sitting out here, and because her ass is numb and her knees hurt from sitting in one position for so long. 

She pushes herself up, a bit shaky on her feet, nearly stumbling then steadying herself against the railing of the balcony. She bends, stumbling again, grabs the whiskey bottle by the neck, fumbles with the tumbler, then makes her way into her quarters, leaving her phone on the floor and the balcony door open behind her. It’s been so drafty in her quarters lately.

The bottle of whiskey is placed on the counter and, as Larissa goes to place the tumbler into the sink to be washed, it slips and shatters, shards of glass flying everywhere. She feels the warmth of her own blood on her finger before she feels the sting of the cut.

“Fuck!” 

A little bit of moonlight is streaming into the kitchen, and Larissa raises her finger into the light and stares at it, watching blood form a large bead on her fingertip, then slowly trickle down towards her hand. She sucks her finger between her lips, trying to stem the flow of blood. The metallic taste mixes with the whiskey on her tongue and, as she stands there in the darkness of her kitchen, she suddenly feels tired, so unbelievably tired.

She wants to call you again. She wants to tell your full voicemail box to go fuck itself, all she wants is to hear your voice. It’s all she wants yet it’s all she can’t do. 

-

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

x

Taglist: @alexusonfire @pro-weems-places @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @fictionalized-lesbian @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @http-sam @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @niceminipotato @thevillagegay @barbarasstar @lilfartbox1 @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @daydream-cement @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @ilovetlcc @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @gwens0girl @larissa-weems-chokehold @makemyworldworthliving @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr @nightingalespen @jadewolf22 @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens-wife

[krowfangs]

[frostdayz]

its you in my dreams i find

Aegon x reader (f! reader)

Genre: angst (mwuahahahha I will die on this hill but angst is so much better than fluff)

summary: Aegon is betrothed to his sister but his heart belongs to someone else. With his wedding only mere seconds away he goes to find you just to see your face one last time. (time jump included)

wrds: 2.63k

note: I saw this one quote on twitter and I just had to use it. Anyways so this has 3ish parts? The story + aegon and readers pov when they see each other again I made them different so it can also be little stand-alones! Enjoy :)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Today, Aegon would wed his sister, cementing alliances and securing the Targaryen bloodline. The air was filled with the sounds of celebration, but my heart felt heavy with sorrow.

I slipped away from the festivities, making my way through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle. My feet carried me to a secluded chamber where Aegon and I had often met in secret, away from the prying eyes of the court. It was here that we could be ourselves, if only for a brief moment.

When I entered, he was already there, his regal attire a stark contrast to the vulnerable expression on his face. He looked up as I approached, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and pain.

"Y/N," he breathed, closing the distance between us. He took my hands in his, holding them tightly as if he could anchor himself to me in the storm of his duty.

"My love," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He nodded, his grip tightening. "I know. But before I walk down that aisle, I needed to see you. I need to remind myself of what truly matters."

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked up at him. "You do not have to do this. We could run away, leave this place behind."

He shook his head, a sad smile playing on his lips. "You know I cannot. My duty to my family and the realm binds me. But my heart... my heart belongs to you."

I choked back a sob, the reality of our situation crashing down on me.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a tear. "You are mine, Y/N. In every way that matters, you are mine. This marriage is a formality, a duty. But my love for you is real, and it will never be changed."

I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes to savor the warmth of his hands. "I can't bear the thought of you with her. Your sister is kind but I cannot fathom the thought you bedding another woman."

He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I won't be. Not in the way you fear. My heart, my soul, they are yours. Always."

For a moment, we stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, finding solace in the closeness that would soon be taken from us. The world outside could not touch us here, in this stolen moment of love and loss.

"I have known you since we were children," Aegon murmured, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. "You are a part of me, Y/N. This throne compares not to you or this out of body feeling I have when your eyes meet mine. What we have is something people look for all their lives.

I clung to him, my heart breaking with the knowledge that this might be our last meeting. "Promise me you'll never forget."

He pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes with an intensity that took my breath away. "I promise. You will forever be tethered to me and I to you."

The sound of distant bells reached our ears, signaling that the ceremony was about to begin. Our time was running out.

"I have to go," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "But know this, Y/N: When I lay me down for bed, you're always on my mind; and when I close my eyes and sleep, it's you in dreams I find."

With one last lingering kiss, he turned and left the chamber, leaving me alone with my sorrow. I watched him go, my heart shattering with every step he took.

As I made my way back to the shadows, I clung to his words, finding strength in the love we shared. We were star-crossed lovers, bound by fate and duty, but our love was a flame that could not be extinguished.

And though the path ahead was filled with heartache, I knew that as long as I held onto his promise, I could endure anything. Aegon might be bound by duty, but his heart was mine, and that knowledge would sustain me through the darkest of days.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Readers pov:

Years had passed since I last saw Aegon. The world had moved on, and so had I, or so I told myself. Life in King's Landing was unpredictable, but I had found my place in it, working at a modest inn and living a life free from the court politics and royal intrigues.

One evening, as I laughed with a kind man who had become a close friend, I felt an inexplicable pull. The inn was bustling with activity, filled with the noise of patrons enjoying their evening, but suddenly, it felt as if everything had quieted. I glanced towards the entrance, and there he was.

His presence was unmistakable, even after all these years. He stood in the doorway, his fine clothes setting him apart from the crowd. But it wasn't just his appearance that drew my attention; it was the look in his eyes. A mixture of surprise, longing, and sadness.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Memories flooded back—our secret meetings, the stolen kisses, the whispered promises. All of it came rushing back in a torrent of emotion that left me breathless. But as I looked at him, I realized something had changed. He was still Aegon, but there was a heaviness about him now, a burden that he carried with every step.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. The noise of the inn faded into the background, and all I could see was him. But then I remembered where we were, who we were. He was a king now, married to his sister, bound by duty and responsibility. And I was a part of his past, a chapter that had ended long ago.

I forced a smile, turning back to my friend, trying to push the memories aside. I laughed at some sill story he has told 100 times, though I didn't hear the words. I could still feel Aegon's gaze on me, a tangible weight that pressed down on my heart.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him take a step forward, as if he intended to come over. My breath caught in my throat, a part of me yearning for him to close the distance, to bridge the years that had kept us apart. But then he stopped. I saw the conflict in his eyes, the war between his heart and his sense of faithfulness to the crown.

He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of his crown pressed down even harder. He watched me for a moment longer, his eyes reflecting a world of unspoken words and lost dreams. Then, with a final, lingering look, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the night.

I felt a tear slip down my cheek as I watched him go, my heart aching with a mixture of love and resignation. Aegon had chosen his path, and I had chosen mine. Our lives had diverged, and though our love had been real and deep, it was now a memory, a beautiful, bittersweet memory.

My friend noticed my silence and gave me a concerned look. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

I wiped away the tear, offering him a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Just... lost in thought for a moment."

He nodded, accepting my answer without pressing further. As the evening wore on, I tried to push thoughts of Aegon aside, focusing on the present, on the life I had built for myself. But deep down, I knew that a part of me would always belong to him, just as a part of him belonged to me.

And though our love had been strong, it was now a whisper in the wind, a memory that would forever linger in the corners of my heart.

And so, I laughed and smiled with my friend, cherishing the moments of joy and companionship that life had given me. But every now and then, when I lay down for bed and closed my eyes, it was Aegon I saw in my dreams, a reminder of a love that could never be, yet would never fade.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Aegon's pov:

I often found myself lost in thoughts of Y/N, the woman who had stolen my heart and whose absence left an unfillable void. The memory of her was a constant companion, a nostalgic reminder of what could never be.

The day had started like any other, filled with the mundane and the ceremonious. My friends, eager to lift my spirits, convinced me to join them for a walk through the streets of King’s Landing. The bustle of the city was a welcome distraction from the confines of the Red Keep and the duties that awaited me there.

We strolled through the market, the vibrant colors and the mingling scents of spices and roasted meats filling the air. The sound of laughter and chatter was a stark contrast to the solemnity of the court. As we turned a corner, my heart suddenly lurched in my chest.

There she was, Y/N, standing at a vendor’s stall, examining a piece of fabric with a smile on her face. She looked radiant, more beautiful than I remembered. Time had been kind to her, and seeing her now, happy and carefree, was both a joy and a knife to my heart.

She was not alone. Beside her stood a man, laughing at something she had said. The sight of them together was a sword to the heart. I felt a surge of jealousy and sorrow, emotions I had no right to feel. She had moved on, found happiness in a new life, and I was a mere shadow in the new world she made for herself.

My friends continued their conversation, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside me. I watched as the man leaned in closer to Y/N, his hand resting on her arm. She laughed again, the sound a melody I had longed to hear for so long. But it was not meant for me anymore.

I knew I should turn away, leave her to her happiness, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. Every fiber of my being wanted to rush to her, to hold her and tell her that I had never stopped loving her. But what right did I have to disrupt her life? She deserved happiness, and if this man could give her that, then who was I to interfere?

“When I lay me down for bed, you're always on my mind; and when I close my eyes and sleep, it's you in dreams I find,” I murmured under my breath, a silent reminder of the words I spoke to the woman I love from the last moment we met.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to step back, to let go. My friends were moving on, and I needed to follow. But as we walked away, I couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Y/N was still laughing, her eyes shining with a light that had once been reserved for me.

As painful as it was, seeing her happy was a balm to my soul. Knowing that she had found joy, even without me, gave me a strange sense of peace. Our love had been real, and it would always be a part of me, but it was time to let her go.

Back in the confines of the Red Keep, I found myself standing on the balcony, staring out over the city. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the rooftops. I thought of Y/N, somewhere out there, living her life, and I whispered a silent prayer for her happiness.

“I will always love you, Y/N,” I said softly to the wind. “But I’m glad you’ve found your own path.��� A soft smile lingering on my lips.

As the first stars appeared in the twilight sky, I made my way back inside. Y/N would always be in my heart, a cherished memory, and knowing she was happy was enough to carry me through the darkest of days.

[rxmqnova]

Hey! Just a cute one, Nat has Liho.

Yn joined the Avengers and she has a cat too, a orange one(Liho is a black one) [so for all I saw on tiktoks or Twitter is like the oranges one can be more affectionate I don't know if that is true or not.]

So Yn's cat(you can write a name) always was near Liho but It was a surprise for Natt that her cat wanted another cat around her.

Wanda being the good friend she is, she talked to Nat saying that the relationship between the cats reminds her of her and Yn, being so differents but they were perfect for each other. So you know, yn and Nat watched a bit the cats and then Nat told her about it and asked her on a date.

Different, but perfect

NO ONE'S POV "Look at that Foxy, now we're officially Avengers" Y/N says excitedly, petting her cat behind ears.

She's finally moved to the Avengers compound today and is more than excited to start her new life as an Avenger. It has always been her dream to become one of the Avengers and be able to help other people. And it's finally happening.

Y/N watches with a smile as her cat walks over to her new friend Liho, a black cat that belongs to Natasha. It's kinda funny how Foxy and Liho are similar to their owners.

Liho is more of a loner, she doesn't really like anyone besides Natasha. Most of the time the cat is somewhere out of sight and alone. Kinda like Natasha. The redhead joins the team if she needs to, but she's happier in the gym on in her room where she has time to think and has no one around.

On the other hand, Foxy is such a friendly cat who loves human touch and is more than happy when someone's petting her. Y/N is also very friendly, loves to be around people and her absolute favorite thing is cuddling.

Who would say that absolute opposites like Liho and Foxy could be such good friends. But you know what they say… opposites attract.

"Oh, there you are. I've heard you also have a cat, so I just wanted to tell you that Liho's not really fr…" Natasha stops when she sees her cat happily playing with Y/N's.

"I think they like each other actually" Y/N smiles, glancing at Natasha before looking back at the two happy cats.

A little shocked Natasha sits down on the ground next to the newest Avenger, watching their cats play. What shocks her even more is that both cats make their way over to Y/N, wanting her to pet them which Y/N happily does.

———

Over the weeks Y/N's spent on the compound, Liho's behavior towards Foxy hasn't been the only surprise.

Liho grew to like the new Avenger quite a lot. And to be honest, Natasha did too. She often finds herself thinking about Y/N or finding every opportunity to spend time with her.

Anything like this has never happened to Natasha before and she has no idea what to do. If she should just admit how she feels, or if she shouldn't say anything? What if Y/N doesn't feel the same?

Of course, Y/N does. She loves spending time with the redhead. But she is absolutely clueless and doesn't see the way Natasha looks at her. She's noticed Natasha's nicer to her than she is to the others, but she thinks it's just because she's new here.

"I don't know, Wanda. We're completely different. I don't even think she feels the same way" Natasha sighs, taking a sip from her coffee.

The redhead's currently in the kitchen, talking to Wanda who's the only one who knows about Natasha's feeling for the newest Avenger. Everyone else is either somewhere around the compound or somewhere outside. Y/N went out shopping this morning, so Natasha doesn't have to be worried she would hear her conversation with Wanda.

"Look at it from a different point of view. Look at Liho and Foxy. They're so different and yet they won't make a single step without each other" Wanda starts, pointing at the two cats that are walking around together. "Just like you and Y/N. You two might be different, but you are perfect for each other"

"But what if you're wrong? And she's just being friendly?" Natasha asks unsure, making Wanda roll her eyes playfully.

"Nat, I see the way she looks at you. She definitely likes you. Just ask her out and you'll see I'm right" Wanda says confidently.

"Hey, guys! What are you up to?" Y/N smiles brightly, stepping into the kitchen with a few bags, some filled with clothes and some filled with food.

"Hi there. We're just talking. But you seem like you had a successful shopping day. What you got?" Wanda asks with a smile.

"Well, I got some clothes. I especially love the cute dress I got. And I stopped for groceries, cause the fridge is nearly empty… again" Y/N says. "Oh, and I got some treats for the cats" She smiles, taking out the cat treats and showing it to both girls. "Foxy and Liho are gonna love it!"

"I'm sure they will, детка" Natasha chuckles at Y/N's excitement, watching as Y/N's cheeks turn red on the name she called her. (baby)

"Well, I'll go to give them some" Y/N informs, quickly walking over to the cats and petting both behind ears, hoping Natasha hasn't noticed anything.

"Well, I guess I'll leave you two here. Go get her" Wanda says just for Natasha to hear, winking at her before turning around and walking out of the room.

Natasha takes a deep breath before standing up and walking over to Y/N and the cats, taking a seat next to the girl.

They just watch their cats for a bit, eventually petting them behind ears until Natasha finally gets the courage and starts speaking.

"Wanda thinks the cats are like us" The redhead blurts out on which Y/N tilts her head in confusion.

"Well… I mean, kinda I guess" Y/N shrugs, not understanding Natasha's point.

"What I meant to say is that they're completely different, but they're such good friends" Natasha explains, receiving a hum in response. "Just like us… Y/N, I don't know how people do it. I'm trying to tell you I like you" Natasha sighs. She's never confessed her feelings to anyone and it seems harder than she thought.

"Y-you do?"

"Yes. I… I was hoping that maybe you would go out with me? Like a date?" Natasha asks nervously, waiting for an answer.

Y/N opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She's been imagining this moment for so long and now when it's finally here, she's too shocked it's actually happening.

"I'm sorry, just forget I asked" Natasha says after no response from Y/N, bringing her back to reality.

"No, no. I-I like you too. I would love to go on a date with you, Nat" Y/N quicky catches Natasha's hand, stopping her from standing up.

"Really?" Natasha better asks to make sure, receiving a warm smile and a nod back.

"Of course, going on a date with you would make me the happiest girl on the entire world"

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

Natasha Romanoff masterlist

Masterlist

[jpmarvel90]

Don't Belong part 2

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1

Word Count: 5499

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: After Y/n's accident on her mission, her mother's are terrified that they might not get the chance to make things right with their daughter. That's assuming Y/n wants anything to do with them when she comes around.

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Nat's POV:

It's been over 24 hours since Y/n came out of surgery and she's still unconscious with a machine helping her breathe. I thought she would have been awake by now and there'd be a relief that she was on the start of her long road to recovery.

Instead, Wanda and I are glued to our seats next to her bed. We've only gotten up to use the bathroom. Otherwise, we've remained by her side. Pepper kindly offered to take the boys for as long as it's needed. Though they are both very anxious to see Y/n themselves. They might be young, but they understand that she's hurt. They love their sister, and they want her to wake up just as much as we do.

I've not slept since we found out that she was hurt, and I don't plan to until she is awake. Though the longer it goes on, the more my body is fighting against that desire. I want to be there when she wakes up to show her that her moms are going to be there for her the whole way through her recovery.

Wanda and I have spoken a lot over the last day. We've shared our pain and sadness, whilst making sure we come up with a plan to help her with her recovery and to ultimately gain her forgiveness.

We both know that Y/n will not forgive us easily, if at all. But that doesn't mean that we're not going to try with everything in us. For too long we've allowed her to go about her life thinking that we don't love or care for her anymore. She has every right to feel that way after how we've treated her. But she will not ever question that again.

The both of us are sat in silence, both of us watching over our daughter. My eyes are trained on her chest, making sure that she is still breathing, gaining a lot of comfort from the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. However, the silence doesn't last long until the door flies open.

Out of instinct, both Wanda and I shoot up from our seats and take a defensive stance in front of our daughter to protect her from any danger. However, we soon relax when we see Yelena's worried face. "I came as soon as I could." She tells us as she moves closer to the bed, her hand hesitant as it reaches out towards her niece.

Yelena has been away for most of the time over the last few years. She's been helping to find all the widows and has only come back for a couple of days at a time. Each time though, she has always made time for us. "How is she?" She asks, as I pull up another chair for my sister.

"It's not good. She's still in critical condition. They had to remove part of her liver, but Cho reckons that if she can get through these first few days, that she'll be on track for a full recovery." I fill her in as her eyes never leave Y/n. "Clint said that it was a double agent that set her up." She states and we nod in clarification. "I'll be paying a visit to Fury when I'm done here." She announces, an anger to her voice. "We've tried to see him, but Fury won't let us anywhere near him." Wanda warns her but Yelena just scoffs. "I'll get to him one way or another." She states and I believe her. She's incredibly protective of the people she loves, and she'll want to make sure that he pays. I actually hope that she does.

"Wait, you said you were with Clint?" I question her and she nods. "Yeah, he was with me on my last mission. He's waiting outside, he didn't want to intrude." She responds, pointing towards the window behind her where Clint is stood with a young girl next to him. "Who's with him?" I ask. "Kate Bishop. Clint's stray. He's going to see if she can join Shield." Yelena explains. "She was with us and had no where else to go so I said she could stay here for now." She adds on. If Clint thinks she's worthy of Shield, then I believe that she is. She must also be good if Yelena has been working with her. She wouldn't let anyone help who would slow her down.

"How long are you back for?" Wanda steps in with her own question, making my own ears prick up for her response. "As long as I need to be. I want to be around to help with her recovery." Yelena replies, making me smile. Y/n is going to need all the help she can get, and she adores Yelena, so I'm glad that she's not going anywhere any time soon.

After a while, we indicate for Clint and Kate to come in. We go through our introduction, and I can see how enthusiastic Kate is. She's very chatty and I'm surprise she's not pissed off Clint and Yelena yet though! "I read about Y/n in the Young Initiative files." Kate shares. "Did you know she is the only recruit to ever get a perfect score. She could have passed the exams two years ago and still topped the class." She tells us enthusiastically. "Sounds like you're a fan." Yelena teases her, making the young girl blush. "I guess when your parents are the Black Widow and the Scarlett Witch, you're going to be good." Kate chuckles.

It makes my gaze drop, something that Yelena clocks on to instantly. She's not been around so hasn't seen how we've treated Y/n. I'm actually worried for when I tell her. She's going to hate us for it and I'd be surprised if she even lets us stay around Y/n. "Y/n did it all on her own. With a little help from Steve. Her talent has come from her own ability and desire to be the best." Wanda corrects Kate, showing that we have no claim to how good Y/n is at being an agent. "Oh, that's even more impressive then. You must be really proud." She smiles at us and we both nod. "More than she'll ever know." I mutter.

__________

When Kate and Clint leave, Yelena is quick to question Wanda and I. We tell her of what's been going on and how ashamed we are and how much we want to be able to fix everything. "You don't deserve to fix it." She spits angrily at us. "It's no excuse to say that you got lost in the boys. Y/n is your daughter too and she needed you." She shouts, calling us both out on our actions. "We know Yelena. We can't take back how we've treated her. But I promise that we won't every do anything like that again!" I tell her sincerely. "No, you won't. I won't let you. If you are going to be back in her life as the parents you should have been, you have to be all in. You promised to be better than we had Natasha!" She tells me firmly with a finger jabbing into my chest.

"I know Yelena. I wish I had a valid excuse or reason for what we did. I will never forgive myself. I will always have a hatred towards myself for ever making her feel the way we did. But I'm not going to wallow and hide away from it. I want to own up to the mistake and try and fix it. I know that it's not going to be an easy fix, but I will stay here and face the brunt of the anger and pain that she's feeling because I will not give up on her. Not again." I tell her passionate. "Neither of us will. I promise you Yelena, we will do everything in our power to fix this." Wanda steps up and adds her own promise, taking my hand. At least we have each other through all of this.

Yelena doesn't speak, she just looks between the two of us, her chest heaving with anger. It's intimidating to be the one on the receiving end, but we deserve it. I'm glad that Yelena is here. She simple nods her head and that is the subject over with. For now.

That night, my body ultimately wins, and I end up getting a couple of hours sleep. Though it's full of nightmares that I can't seem to escape and then when I wake up, I'm terrified that Y/n will be awake already and I'll have missed it. But when my body wakes with a jolt, I'm met with my sleeping wife and still unconscious daughter.

I stretch out and move closer to the bed and take Y/n's bruised hand in my own. "I can't lose you. You are my daughter, blood or not and I love you so much. I know I haven't shown that to you and there is no excuse for that. I also know that you have every right to never forgive me. So, my only request, is please wake up. Please survive. I don't think I can live in a world without you in it." I plead with her. Hoping that somewhere in her subconscious she can hear me. I squeeze her hand, hoping for any response, but nothing comes.

The day goes by slower than usual. That is until Cho comes in to check on Y/n and gives us the good news that she should be able to breathe without the ventilator now. Wanda and I step outside as we watch through the window. We're holding on to each other tightly as we watch. "This is good. She's strong and this is the first step to her waking up." Wanda speaks. I can hear the hesitation in her voice, showing that she is trying to convince herself more than anything. "You're right. She is so strong. I know she's going to wake up soon." I add on, smiling at my wife.

Cho soon joins us with a smile. "She's doing well. She's now breathing easily on her own. I expect she'll wake up within a few hours. I'll be back to do a full examination then so we can assess her injuries." She informs us. I feel a sense of relief wash over me. Hopefully it won't be long until our daughter is back with us.

The next couple of hours seems to drag by. Clint, Yelena and Kate all paid another visit but left to try and sort a room out for Kate in the compound. Steve was then the next to join us, taking a seat at the end of Y/n's bed. It's a long wait until we finally see a twitch to Y/n's eye.

I'm the first to my feet, leaning over to see if I had imagined the small movement. "Y/n, honey. It's mama. Can you hear me?" I ask her, fighting off the tears threatening to fall. With a flutter, her blues eyes lock on to mine. "She squeezed my hand." Wanda says excitedly. "Baby, we're here." She tells Y/n, who's got a confused look in her eyes.

"You're in the medical wing sweetheart. You got shot on your mission." I explain to her. "S-t-Steve." She stutters out. "He's fine. He's here." I reassure her, waving for Steve to come closer. "Hey kiddo. Boy we're glad to see you awake." He tells her with a relived smile. One that she returns. "I'll got and get Dr Cho." Wanda states, quickly leaving the room. "T-the m-mission." Y/n starts but Steve is quick to stop her. "Is not to worry about right now. Just know it wasn't your fault. But we'll explain it when you're doing better." He tells her, earning a nod. She reaches out her hand to Steve and he instantly takes it. "You're not allowed to scare us like that again." He chuckles, his voice wavering.

"S-sorry." She replies, her eyes fluttering again. "It's ok sweetheart. Don't fight it if you want to sleep again." I tell her softly. She doesn't really acknowledge me, but she does seem to listen as her eyes flutter shut once again.

They don't stay closed for long though, soon woken up by Cho as she comes in with a wide smile. "There's my favourite patient." She smiles at Y/n, who grins in return. "I bet you s-say that to e-everyone." Y/n responds through a struggled chuckle. "But with you I actually mean it." Cho winks, before looking over Y/n's chart and obs.

She takes the time to explain Y/n's injuries to her and the plan for her recovery. I see her face drop when she realises she's going to be in the hospital for at least another week before being on strict bed rest when she's discharged. "I'll be around if you need anything or have any questions. So please get one of the nurses to get me if you need me. That goes for all of you." Dr Cho offers. "Thank you. For everything." I tell her sincerely. She gives me a tightly smile before turning on her heel and leaving the three of us too it.

With Cho gone, it's silent in the med bay as Wanda, Steve and I just watch over Y/n. She is struggling to keep her eyes open, but I can see a pain in them when they lock on to mine. "You should get some rest kiddo." Steve speaks up as Y/n nods in return. "W-will you s-stay?" She asks, making Steve smile widely. "Of course." He returns, moving to get another chair to sit with us. At that confirmation, Y/n seems comfortable enough to let her eyes close and for sleep to take back over.

It's almost agony to see her asleep once again. We've been waiting for so long for her to wake up, for her to be asleep so soon is tough. I almost want to start apologising and showing her that we're going to change and it's going to stick. But I don't want to overwhelm her. At the moment, her recovery is the most important thing. As much as I hate it, earning her forgiveness will have to wait.

"Now she's awake, you two should head to your apartment. See the twins, eat some proper food, and get some sleep. I can stay with her." Steve offers, but I'm quick to decline. "I don't want to leave her." I tell him, whilst gripping her hand tighter, my eyes not leaving her sleeping form. Steve lets out a sigh. "She'll be asleep for a while, and she needs you both on top form." He tells us.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up to see Wanda smiling warmly at me. I hadn't even noticed that she had moved from the other side of the bed. "Steve's right. We've been here for days. If we want to do what's right by Y/n, then we need to look after ourselves as well." She speaks sense.

With a huff I stand from my seat and lean forward to press a kiss to Y/n's head. "We'll be back later sweetheart. I love you so much." I tell her softly then move so that Wanda can say goodbye too. With one last look to our daughter, we both reluctantly leave. Though I smile when I see Steve move closer and take Y/n's hand in his own. Although I will forever regret how we have treated Y/n, I'm glad that she has had Steve there for her.

Y/n's POV:

Well, that was not how I wanted my first mission to go. I wanted to impress everyone, not end up in the med bay with part of my liver missing! Waking up was a weird experience. Seeing my parents' faces were the last thing I expected to see. They seem genuinely worried, but that was probably all a front for everyone else. They can't be seen to not care about the daughter they've ignored for the last few years.

When I wake up next, I see Steve smile down at me. "You're still here." I say and he nods. "Of course. I wanted to make sure that you're ok." He replies, making my own smile grow. I look around and my smile drops when I see that my moms aren't here. I can't hide that it hurts a little that they didn't stick around. But I shouldn't care about that. They haven't cared about me.

"Should have guessed they would go once I woke up." I complain, wincing as I try to adjust myself in bed. "Careful Y/n/n." Steve scolds me as he shoots to his feet to help adjust my pillows. "I told them to go." He admits and I look at him with a frown. "Not like that. But they have not left your side since you were brought in. They weren't looking after themselves and if they are going to help you through your recovery, they need to be at 100%" He explains but I just scoff.

"I don't need their help with my recovery. They didn't care before I was hurt, they don't get to care now." I groan. Steve takes his seat again and looks at me with his, "I know I'm right" look. "Y/n. I know you don't believe it, but they do care for you. They were cut up when you got hurt. They were devastated that they wouldn't have the chance to be able to make things up to you." He says. I roll my eyes, but he continues. "Look, I'm not saying you have to forgive them. But you can't question how much they have cared for you over the last few days."

"Fine, but I'm not going back to their place to recover." I huff, folding my arms. "Considering you've been shot and in a medically induced coma for the last few days, it's good to see it hasn't affected your attitude." Steve teases.

We sit in silence as I think about my parents. They surely can't think that just because they've been sat beside my bed whilst I've been hurt is going to make up for everything that they have done over the years? Who's to say that they won't go back to how they were once I'm healed? I have a place at Sheild now. Somewhere that I can make a name for myself and create my own family.

"I'm sorry I messed up the mission." I break the silence, my mind now moving on to the fact I failed at my first mission. "You didn't fail anything kiddo. We were set up. If anything, I should apologise to you. They were after me, but you were the one to get hurt. You did a great job of take on as many agents as you did." He explains, taking my hand in his. "You fought, and it's because of your skill and ability that you're alive. You impressed everyone." He assures me, running his thumb over my bruised knuckles.

Our moment is broken when my moms walk back in. "You're awake!" Mom says excitedly as both her and mama move into the room quickly. Steve moves back from my side, which I frown at as mama takes my hand in hers. I'm quick to pull it away. The hurt that flashes across her face doesn't go unnoticed, but I'm not in the mood to pretend like everything is ok right now.

"How are you feeling?" Mom asks, appearing to my left. "I'm fine." I respond shortly, receiving a warning raised eyebrow from Steve. "Are you in pain? I can get the nurse to come in and get you some pain killers." Mom fusses. "I'm fine." I repeat the same words. "That's not true, you've been wincing since you've woken up." Steve rats me out. Traitor. "If a 40 calibre bullet went through you, I'm sure you'd be wincing too." I snap. "Told you. Amazing how your attitude hasn't changed." Steve chuckles.

However, both my mom's look at me with worried looks. "I'm going to get Dr Cho. You look pale." Mom worries before rushing out the room.

Mama reaches forward and places her hand on my head, which I quickly try and move away from her touch. "You're hot. I hope you're not running a fever." She states. "Like you care." I mumble, but she hears it and that look of hurt appears on her face again. "Look Y/n. I know you believe that we don't care or love you. But that couldn't be further from the truth. I want nothing more than to talk to you about it and start to make up for everything. But right now, all that matters is your recovery. You can hate us and ignore us or yell at us, but we are not going anywhere." She states firmly, her eyes locked on to mine. I just roll my eyes and turn to look at Dr Cho who has walking into the room.

She checks me over and I notice the frown on her face. "What's up?" I question. "I'm worried about your temperature. I want to run some tests, but with the inflammation to your incision, I'm worried you've got an infection. It's nothing to worry about as we've caught it early. But we'll need to keep a close eye on you." She replies. "So, no discharge yet then." I huff.

Cho chuckles and looks up from my chart. "It's funny you think you were close even without this infection." She teases. "Aren't you meant to be nice to me? I'm a patient after all." I pout. "If I'm on good behaviour, can I get out early?" I plead. "Maybe in a week. But you'll be on strict bed rest and need to be cared for. You're still technically a minor." Cho breaks the news and I know exactly what she's getting at. "But I'm 18 in like 4 days! Besides, I literally got shot on a mission for Shield. Surely that's enough?" I argue.

"Y/n, you are going to struggle to walk, let alone be able to properly look after yourself. Even after you're 18, you'll need support during your recovery. It isn't a simple road ahead for you." Dr Cho returns. "So, what are you saying?" I get straight to the point. "I'm recommending that you are discharged to your family. You'll be in the compound so if anything goes wrong, you can get the right medical attention straight away." She explains. "Really? There are no other options. Can't I stay with Steve or something?" I ask but she shakes her head.

"Y/n, come on. It's what is best for you. Your moms will be there to help. I'll be away on missions so can't give you the care you need." Steve speaks up, but soon shrinks back as I glare at him. "Really, what makes you think that I'll get the care I need at home?" I growl, my anger building. "Y/n..." Mama starts but I cut her off. "No! You can't just stand there and act like the caring parents when you have done nothing to back that claim up. I've been the forgotten daughter for years! Slowly I have been pushed out this family and now you want me to just act like everything is ok and trust that you'll look after me?!" I yell, that frustration finally finding its way out.

"Y/n, you need to calm down. Your heartrate is getting too high." Dr Cho tries to calm me down. "Kiddo. You're ok. You need to give them a chance." Steve tries to reason. "A chance like I was given? I've practically raised myself these last few years!" I snap. Why is he suddenly defending them?!

"Please sweetheart. You're going to make yourself sicker. We want to be there for you. We're not denying how badly we've treated you. But I promise that it will never happen again. You'll be safe with us. We just want to be able to care for you and help you get to full health." Mama speaks, her eyes filled with tears. I look between her, and mom and I see that she's almost inconsolable. "Do I have a choice?" I sigh, turning to Cho. "Technically, yes. But physically, you won't be able to follow through with it." She breaks the bad news. Suddenly the sounds of my heart monitor becomes noticeable so I lie back and take a couple of deep breaths. I can feel all their eyes on me, and I let out a sigh. "Fine whatever." I respond. I just need to do everything that Cho tells me so I can heal as fast as possible and move back to Shield and start my life again.

__________

The next few days are not fun. My infection hit me pretty hard, and I spent a lot of time either sweating or freezing whilst fighting the urge to throw up. I hate being stuck in this bed and I just want to be healthy again and being able to go on missions. Before it went south, I was loving it. Even if it was just a small one.

I'm also finding it hard that my mothers are suddenly around all the time. Mama is much better at not smothering me. Mom on the other hand, she is always fussing. But that's her and I used to love it when I was younger, when she actually cared about my wellbeing. "Wands, she's already said she has enough pillows." Mama sighs, her own frustrations growing. "Yes, sorry you did." Mom apologises, slowly putting the pillow down she had in her hands.

"Can I get you anything else? Some food. Though the food here is pretty horrible. When you're back home, I'll make sure to cook you something tasty with the food you're allowed to eat." She starts to ramble. I'm not going to lie, that does sound amazing, and I'd kill for a bowl of paprikash right now. I remember when mom taught me how to cook it. It was one of the last memories I have of us spending quality time together.

I don't realise I'm smiling until I see both my parents looking at me warmly. I quickly shake it off, not wanting to let them think that I'm enjoying this in the slightest. "You know what. A sandwich would be good." I say, taking them both by surprise. I've not been very talkative, but I could do with a break right now. I know I won't be able to get rid of both of them, but I can at least take a break from mom fussing.

"Of course. I'll go and make you something up and bring it down. The bread is always dry here." She speaks, grabbing a couple of things and turning to leave. "Maybe I'll check with Cho if you could have a smoothy." She mumbles, making mama chuckle as she leaves.

I let out a breath of relief. I feel slightly less suffocated. But I am still very aware of mama's eyes boring into me. I'm used to her being quiet. She always observes, making her conclusions before talking when it's necessary. But seeing her now, it feels different. I'm pretty good at reading people and I can tell that she is lost in her own thoughts. I've only seen her like it a couple of times before and it's been after particularly difficult missions. Ones that bring up bad memories for her.

I grab the TV remote and try and find something to watch. I end up with Rizzoli and Isles on. I don't really watch it, but the sound is helping to break the awkward silence. Just after they break the case in the show, I notice mama sit more upright in her seat.

"When I found you in Hydra, I knew instantly that I wanted to help you. There was something about you that melted my heart. When we found out that you had no family to return you to, it wasn't even a question, I knew I was going to adopt you. In that short space of time, I had spent with you, I grew to love you." She starts. I don't look to her, my focus on the TV.

"Even though you had been through so much, you had this happiness around you. You were grateful for everything and found the joy in the smallest thing. I just wanted to give you a life that you deserved. When I married Wanda, I was so happy that I could give you two loving parents." From the corner of my eye, I can see her smile tearily as she picks at the skin around her fingers.

"I failed you Y/n. When I adopted you, I promised that I would be the best parent to you. That you would never want for anything. What's worse, is I never even noticed what I was doing. What we were both doing. I've always prided myself on being able to read people, but I couldn't see the damage I was doing to my own daughter." She continues, pain evident in her voice.

"I wish I could go back in time to change how we acted with you. To include you fully with the twins, to support you in your work in the Shield Programme. To show that even with the boys, you were loved and an integral part of this family. All I can do is apologise and promise that we are not going to let that happen again." She finishes, finally look up to me, a couple of tears falling down her cheeks.

"It's been years. We're not just talking about a couple of months here." I speak up, still not able to lock eyes with her. "Steve became more of a parent for me than the two of you." I admit, and that seems to make mama's heart break a little more. "Is it because I'm not biologically yours and moms?" I ask, my voice shaking.

Mama is quickly to her feet and takes my hand in between both of hers. "No. Of course not Detka, and I will forever hate myself that I've allowed you to think otherwise." She tries to reassure me, a panic in her eyes. "I wish I could give you a reason for why we acted like we did. Initially, it was because we were so focused on the boys, but after that, I have no idea. I wish I could pinpoint why, maybe it would make this all easier. I know you probably don't believe it, but I love you as much as those boys. Blood doesn't matter to me. You are my daughter as much as they are my sons. I know and feel that through every fibre of my body." She expresses. The sincerity is evident in both her voice and facial expressions. "Saying sorry isn't going to fix this. You only knew what you were doing because I called you out on it. Had I not gotten shot, would you have made any effort to rectify what was wrong?" I question her, my anger growing.

"We wanted to. We were planning on taking you to breakfast to talk and work out a way that we could make things right with you. But you had gone, and we couldn't get to you. You have a lot of people at Sheild that love you." She chuckles humourlessly. That is true. Maria is like an aunt to me and her and Fury happily kept my room allocation secret, "Look, I know that we don't deserve your forgiveness, but it doesn't mean that we are going to stop trying." She states firmly.

"It's not that simple mama. I have learnt to live without you now and I've got my own place with Shield. We can both move on with you getting your perfect biological family and I get the career I want." I say, but that only makes mama cry more. "No, our family is only perfect if you are in it too!" She almost shouts, but she's quick to calm herself down. "Look, we've got to live together through your recovery, let's just see how things go after that ok." She proposes. "Fine, but I can't promise anything will change." I respond and she nods. "I know. But I'm going to try everything to earn your forgiveness." She comes back with a newfound confidence.

We fall back into a silence, one that feels more comfortable. Mama looks less stressed, but her brow is still furrowed. When mom returns, the quiet is broken again, despite mama trying to get her to calm down. I try not to smile when she tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I miss this caring side of my parents so much. But for me, it's too little, too late.

Part 3

Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist

[sisitrip]

I was at a Thanksgiving dinner, recuperating (food coma afflicted) in a quiet corner while relatives got happier with after dinner drinks. I caught the look of a cousin, also food coma afflicted, and we had a whole conversation without saying a word. A tiny relative (read: a bored 8 year old) saw us and asked what we were talking about because it looked "nasty." Were we throwing shade at an auntie who always has something to say? That ain't the point, but ... maybe. It sparked the whole outsider POV thought and what can be picked up between two people who don't have to say a word.

All that "nasty" talk I was possibly doing aside, please enjoy an Iggy outsider POV with "Touch Tells You Everything."

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Skin had its own language.

This thought wouldn’t leave Iggy’s mind as he watched Mickey and Ian have a seemingly telepathic conversation all night. If he didn’t know them, he’d be a little spooked by it.

He sat in the corner of said couple’s condo, surveying the aftermath of a Gallagher party. PizzaHut, KFC and White Castle boxes littered the living room like dead soldiers, felled by the gastronomic fury of this family. On top of the culinary destruction, which he admittedly had a hand in, everyone was completely wasted. Except Ian and Mickey. Lip was the only other exception which might explain how he’d managed to irritate him more than usual tonight. Ordinarily, he could tune the little lemur out, but he’d gotten suckered into being the sober driver for these fools. Somebody was definitely throwing up with the way he drives and he personally hoped it was Carl.

But, back to the language of skin. 

He squinted one eye and followed Ian and Mickey’s movements around the room. It was almost balletic, this dance of finger brushing, forearm cupping, and neck stroking. Intimate touches he would find irritatingly unnecessary, but somehow seemed vital to these two. 

Like now, Ian walked over to Mickey who was loading the dishwasher and slipped a hand under the back of his shirt. He expected Mick to jerk up and look around to see if anyone noticed. He didn’t. 

Instead, he stopped what he was doing and gently pushed Ian up against the counter, taking his hands and placing them back under his t-shirt, like his skin was a dermal barometer of Ian’s mood. They even had a weird, silent conversation where all they did was look into each other's eyes before nodding at one another, coming to some sort of understanding. 

“Alright, time for you fucks to get out,” Mickey announced unceremoniously, turning to lean against Ian. Mickey did it carefully, so as not to dislodge Ian’s hands like an electric current would be broken if he did. 

Everyone drunkenly moved en masse to get their coats from the bedroom, leaving him and the handsy couple alone. Mickey turned back to Ian, again carefully keeping skin contact. Ian’s expression went lax with something. Relief? Gratitude? He couldn’t tell because it was all mixed up in the dopiest expression of love. Not for the first time, he wondered what it would feel like if someone looked at him like that.

Mickey and Ian’s silent conversation continued, but this time, there was rocking. Ian pulled Mickey closer and swayed him from side to side, tiredly smiling. He swore on his name that if they started kissing, he was going to make studio quality vomiting sounds. 

Ian’s hands slid up and down under Mickey’s shirt and his brother let himself be pawed like a resigned cat. Mickey didn’t move or even try to break eye contact. He simply tilted his head to the side and raised questioning eyebrows. He didn't know what the question was, but Ian nodded, eyes a little shiny. Mickey’s nostrils flared once, twice and finally a third time before he took a deep breath and pulled Ian’s head down, kissing his forehead. 

“Ain’t you fucks got your coats yet?” Mickey bellowed, never taking his eyes off Ian. 

The group returned giggling about something they’d found attached to the couple’s headboard. He didn't want to know what. 

“Iggy, you’re driving us, right?” Debbie asked, putting her coat on backwards. 

Ian and Mickey finally noticed he was still in the room. Mickey buried his head in Ian’s chest and his husband’s neck turned red. Served them right for all that unnecessary canoodling shit.  

“I said I would, didn’t I?” he griped, standing up and stretching.

He flicked a glance at the couple who were still attached to each other like they were in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. He considered trying to get Mickey to drive these drunk assholes home, but his brother seemed to have other plans. Like pulling Ian’s t-shirt out of the back of his pants and sliding his hands up his husband’s naked back. Ian seemed to deflate with relief and despite his earlier self-promise, he made no vomiting noises when Mickey leaned up to kiss Ian, gently and with a care reserved for things that were beyond precious. 

That decided it for him. Instead of a critical waste of spit on these skin junkies in the kitchen, he aimed it at the crew he had to chauffeur home. 

“Listen the fuck up. Everybody takes a bottle of water in the rig and starts practicing the quiet game. I’m sober against my will and don’t want to hear your nonsense,” he warned, shrugging into his own coat. 

“We’re heading out,” Lip said, walking out with Tami. “Hey, Ian, I’ll-”

“Philip, can you enter and exit a room without expecting the world to clap?” he snapped. “Get on. People are tired.”

Lip huffed out with his bitchy, but hot wife while he redirected Debbie and Carl from their beeline to the kitchen for a long goodbye. 

“Let’s go frick and fucking frack,” he grumbled, shoving them both out the door.

He looked back at Ian and Mickey, still pressed close together. Mickey held a cold beer to the back of Ian’s neck and slid a hand under his shirt, stroking his side. Ian, eyes and nose reddening, buried his face in Mickey’s shoulder, hands moving like ghosts under the shroud of Mickey’s shirt, rubbing soft circles like he was gleaning comfort through his fingertips. 

He caught Mickey’s eye and his brother’s worry was so evident, his own chest tightened in response. But, with an almost imperceptible nod, Mickey thanked him, letting him know they were okay. See, they had their own language too, built on years of silently conveying warnings in a hair trigger household. He nodded in return and slipped out, using the spare keys Ian gave him to lock up. For a minute, he stood outside the door until he heard Ian’s soft sobs inside and Mickey’s murmured reassurances.

“Take care of him, Mick,” he whispered, patting the door.

As he rode down the elevator with two drunken Gallaghers, he sent a good wish back up to the couple, still marveling at their conversation through touch. He’d never known anyone well enough to talk to like that. It was … intimate. Almost too intimate. It felt like talking when you were naked and not being worried about what you’d say or how you looked. You just felt … safe. Mickey and Ian had so much of that, you could see it if you just watched them long enough. 

And, if he was a softer person, he might admire that. Maybe even envy it. 

He didn’t think he could still be surprised by them. It’s been over a decade of their ‘will they or won’t they’ nonsense. But, for Mickey and Ian, touch was another way to communicate and tonight had made one thing perfectly clear.

Skin had its own language.

[tgmsunmontue]

Peer reviewed

3k Hangster (one-shot). Mature (to explicit maybe?)

Secretly married Hangster in an academic environment. Outsider POV then Hangster back and forth with a 5+1 feel (“feel” because it’s a 9+1). This was inspired by one of the academics I manage/work with who came into my office and declared “I haven’t spoken to him in three years and I’m not about to start now!” and I just sat there and went… why are you so proud of being apparently incapable of being baseline professional with a colleague?

…            …            …

FIRST TIME

                “Oh my god! Have you heard what’s happening down in the engineering staff offices?”

                “They haven't set fire to the place again have they?”

                “That was one time. But no, two of our new staff have arrived and it sounds like they’ve about to have a brawl in the corridor.”

                “Seriously?”

                “Yeah! Want to go walk past under the premise of getting a coffee?”

                “Definitely.”

                Jane and Sarah stand and watch. Professor Bradshaw and Professor Seresin are standing almost nose-to-nose, nostrils flaring, eyes flashing in anger and any second one of them is just going to push the other, and the other is then going to be justified in taking a swing. Sarah can see it all playing out in her minds’ eye and she wonders exactly what has set them off. She wonders if this would be a new record for HR, for people to get fired before they even officially start. Because physical altercations are definitely a firable offense, she knows because it’s happened before.

                And they’ve put so much work in finding these professors. They had met them both when they came for their interviews, about a week apart. She’d had to shmooze and try to sell the University and location just as much as the job. Their school might not have big student numbers, but their research is world class and both Seresin and Bradshaw bring a lot to the table in terms of research capabilities and student supervision and mentorship. Now if they could just get along with each other.

                Then Professor Seresin says something under his breath, too quiet for anyone else to hear, but Professor Bradshaw goes bright red, shoves Professor Seresin and stalks off, so it can’t have been anything good.

                Okay then.

                Maybe they shouldn’t have placed the new guys in offices side-by-side thinking they might get on with one another.

…            …            …

                “Do you feel better for a nap?”

                “Fuck you… but yes. And I’m sorry I lost my temper. I was just tired and –”

                “Hungry and stressed and jetlagged. Yeah babe, I know. Thanks for taking over…”

                “You’re welcome. Although I think everyone assumes we hate each other.”

                “Oh. That’s…”

                “Well, we weren’t going to advertise the fact we’re married.”

                “No. But… to have everyone think we hate each other?”

                “What? It’ll just be like when we started dating… everyone getting sick of our shit and wanting to bang out heads together.”

                “Jake… we were post-docs then. We’re professionals now.”

                “Speak for yourself. I plan on pretending we’re holding a grudge about who got the better office.”

                “Jake, you got the better office.”

                “And you can hold a grudge better than anyone I know. So it works perfectly. Also you’re going to spend more time in the workshop or lab and I spend more time in the front of fucking screen running models so it makes sense that I get the nicer office…”

                “You didn’t raise either of those points when we were fighting earlier…”

                “Well, I knew telling you I wanted to fuck you on my brand new desk would shut you up.”

                “You’re lucky I love you.”

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

SECOND TIME

                It’s a networking event, mainly aimed at making industry partners aware of what research is currently being undertaken and what potential opportunities there are for collaboration. She’s done her best with the program, to ensure Bradley and Jake can avoid each other. Bradley presented first and Jake is almost last. They’re both on a first name basis with her now after the months of working together, she’s helped them both with different aspects of moving to another country however she notes that they still refer to each other by last names. They’re the only ones to still do that.

                On top of that Bradley seems to be trying to maybe kill Jake with the power of his mind, staring at him with heated intensity like his mere presence is an affront to Bradley somehow. She’s noticed his temper gets worse when he’s tired or his blood sugar dips low and has taken to stocking a bowl of candy on her desk, which Bradley seems to take from every afternoon. Maybe she should go and ensure he’s eaten.

…            …            …

                “You’re so good for me baby… way to make a boring work event far more interesting. Thinking about this inside of you all night while you walked around looking so good in your suit. Fuck…”

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

THIRD TIME

                It’s meant to be a social activity, just a friendly game of badminton or table tennis. Except apparently Bradley and Jake are competitive at even the most benign of social interactions and are currently trying to kill each other using ping pong balls. Other staff are backing away with either fear or simple self-preservation, not wanting to be caught in the cross-fire of whatever this has turned into. The taunts they’re throwing back and forth are a little too barbed to be considered friendly, but not barbed enough to be nasty. Either way, no one seems to be having much fun.

…            …            …

                “Pretty sure we’re not meant to be using the disabled bathroom for sex.”

                “Not my fucking fault you’re so hot I can’t control myself.”

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

FORTH TIME

                The annual school strategy meeting happens and they just need to keep Bradley and Jake on opposite sides of the room. Her and Jane have got this down to a fine art now, although the idea of trying to keep the two of them in the same room for an entire workday is stretching even their abilities. Fortunately the program leaders for both Jake and Bradley seem to be happy to assist in keeping them separated but also in expediating the material by arranging for half of it to be discussed at a later point. Considering some of the arguing that has already happened it’s a very good thing they don’t have to compete for funding internally.

…            …            …

         ��      “Okay, definitely a benefit of everyone thinking we can’t stand each other, making meetings shorter.”

                “Don’t you feel a little bad that we’re deceiving them?”

                “Did you not hear what I just said?”

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

FIFTH TIME

                “Professor Bradshaw.”

                “Seresin. What can I help you with?”

                The lack of title is definitely deliberate and if there were guns involved the safety would be off, or the hammer would be getting cocked… Instead Jake is looking amused more than anything else, although there’s a slight hue of pink high on his cheeks which bely his potential anger at the disrespect. It’s not often they’re both in the administration office at the same time, and they’re both gritting their teeth and grimacing. She cannot believe that they’re apparently incapable of being more civil to one another.

                “Just found your phone in the break room and thought I’d bring it up to the office. And here you are…”

                “And here I am…”

                Jake is indeed holding a phone out, pinched between his thumb and forefinger like he might catch something from it. Bradley reaches out a hand to take it and like it’s almost slow motion the phone tumbles from Jake’s fingers just as Bradley is about to take it and it hits the floor.

                “Oops. Sorry. Butter fingers,” Jake says, but he’s smirking and even Sarah is annoyed on Bradley’s behalf. That was clearly deliberate. Bradley is bending to retrieve his phone, rolling his eyes and muttering thanks under his breath, which Sarah decides is far more polite than she’d be.

                “Oh, my pleasure.”

…            …            …

                Jake pushes Bradley up against his office door, locking it and grinning like an idiot as he presses kisses along the curve of Bradley’s jaw.

                “God, you’re such an asshole.”

                “Yeah, but I wanted to see you bend over in those jeans again. Damn Bradley…” Jake says, and he runs a hand over Bradley’s ass again, very appreciative of said ass.

                “Workplace harassment.”

                “You like being harassed by me at work.”

                “Yeah, what do you think that says about my mental state?”

                “That you love me?”

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

SIXTH TIME

                “Professor Bradshaw won’t be in today. And probably not tomorrow.”

                “Um,” Sarah blinks. “Is he…” Alive? She’s a little scared to ask.

                “He’s got some type of stomach flu, puking and feverish. I said I’d take his classes for him.”

                “That’s… nice of you.”

                “Hmm. I always like it when people owe me favors.”

                Huh. She smiles and nods and decides to send Bradley a message to check in and maybe suggest he doesn’t eat any food that Jake brings him. Just in case.

…            …            …

                “You’re the best.”

                “And you’re adorable.”

                “I’m miserable.”

                “And very adorable with it.”

                “Did you know that Sarah thinks you’re poisoning me?”

                “What? Since when?”

                “She sent me a message saying to be careful about taking anything from you, just in case.”

                Jake rolls his eyes and presses a quick kiss to Bradley’s forehead.

                “If I catch this from you, then you can worry about me poisoning you. But not before then.”

                “Love you too babe.”

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

SEVENTH TIME

                “I’m really sorry Bradley, it’s just with how late notice it is we can’t find another room anywhere close by. I’ve asked that if another room is made available you’re moved to it immediately.”

                “It’s fine. Really. I don’t mind sharing a room. I promise.”

                “What’s wrong?” Jake asks, coming into the office, and he’s looking at Bradley with narrowed eyes and even when Bradley smiles at Jake all he gets in response is a frown and Bradley simply rolls his eyes, like he finds Jake’s action endearing somehow rather than grossly unprofessional.

                “There weren’t any more rooms available, so I’ve had to place you in the same room. Separate beds though!”

                “I’d rather share with someone I know than a complete stranger,” Bradley says.

                “So I have to put up with him farting and snoring in my room?”

                “Excuse you! Like I don’t have to put up with the same from you!”

                “I’m really sorry Jake, it’s just –”

                “It’s fine. Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s not within your control. Bradshaw and I can play nice for a few days I’m sure. Can’t we Bradshaw?”

                “Well, we can certainly try.”

                “That’s the spirit!”

                “We can even share a ride to the airport, seeing as we live in the same apartment building.”

                “Who knows, we might come back best friends.”

                “I think people will just be impressed we both come back alive and don’t kill each other.”

                They walk away in the same direction and Sarah bites a knuckle and looks across at Jane.

                “You know, I think they’re starting to mature. That was almost a civil conversation. They only looked like they wanted to hit each other about half the time…”

…            …            …

                “Yes, hi, we’re here to check in. A room for Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Oh! We’ve actually had a cancellation. There’s another room available. Your assistant was very adamant that if there was a cancellation we moved you to separate rooms.”

                “It’s fine. We’d prefer to share.”

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

EIGHTH TIME

                “Hi. Can you tell me where to find Professor Seresin’s office?”

                “Aren’t you one of Professor Bradshaw’s students?”

                “Yeah, but he said I’d be best to talk to Professor Seresin, because he knows more.”

                “Really? Hmm. Well, their offices are side by side, so if you’d been looking at the name plates on the doors you would have noticed you had to walk past Professor Seresin’s office to get here.”

                “Oh. Okay then. Thank you.”

                Sarah turns to Jane, eyes wide and disbelieving look on her face.

                “Do you think they’re thawing toward one another?”

                “Who knows? Maybe that conference they both went to forced them to get on?

                Later, when they’re walking back to the office from their lunch break Jake and Bradley are arguing in the corridor and Sarah lets out a sigh and shrugs. Things had been looking so promising.

…            …            …

                “No Bradley, I stand by what I told the student. I do have a better understanding of the measurement and applications for sensors. I build the fucking circuits and run models out my ears before I even reach the build stage.”

                “Yeah, I know you do, but it’s a final year capstone project. Not a Masters or PhD. You’re overthinking it and making it far bigger than it needs to be. You overwhelmed him with your enthusiasm. I wasn’t telling you no, I was just needing you to dial it down.”

                “Oh.”

                “Yeah. I know. Lucky I love you.”

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

NINTH TIME

                “Oh, they definitely looked like they’d been pushing each other around.”

                “Seriously? At least they’re smart enough to never do it where there are witnesses. Otherwise it would be an HR nightmare. Do you think there’s maybe something more there though?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well… I got the receipt for the hotel where they stayed, and they ended up staying in the same room. By choice. I know there was an extra room because I phoned up the morning they were meant to be checking in, and there had been a cancellation. But they decided not to use it.”

                “Okay. That is odd.”

                “Plus there was one time I got mail for Jake Seresin-Bradshaw. Do you think they’ve gone and joined forces for some type of research?”

                “More likely gone halves on a subscription of some type. Those things are like, ridiculously expensive. Their research kind of overlaps right? It’s why they knew each other… didn’t they do their undergraduate degrees at the same University?”

…            …            …

                “A love bite Bradley? Really?”

                “Yep. Now you match about half your first-year students.”

                “You’re such an asshole.”

                “Mmm. I do work very hard at it.”

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

TENTH TIME

                “Jake. Fantastic presentation. Just wondering if I could maybe interest you in a drink?”

                Sarah doesn’t give the person asking much of a chance. Jake is always so very calm and aloof at these types of events, perfectly pleasant and professional for the most part. Except when it comes to Bradley, although it’s been a couple of years now and their banter back-and-forth could almost be classified as friendly.

                “A drink to talk about a potential professional partnership?” Jake asks, smile bland and not reaching his eyes.

                “Well, no,” their voice drops lower. “More a potential personal relationship…?”

                “I think my husband might have something to say about that, and also I'm not at all interested.”

                What the actual fuck Sarah thinks to herself. Since when has Jake been married? And to declare it quite loudly in a room full means there’s no back tracking.

                “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were… unavailable. You’ve never mentioned a husband before.”

                “No, I haven’t. But we have been married for coming up to five years.”

                Five years!!! Sarah thinks to herself.

                “You called?” Bradley asks, voice dry and Sarah cannot fucking believe it.

                “Hi. Yes. I did. Ready to go home?”

                “Ready when you are.”

                Sarah needs to reassess every time she remembers them interacting, because they’re still looking at each other, but now that she knows they’re married it puts a whole different lens on why that level of intensity might be there in the gaze they’re sharing.

                Oh.

                They’ve been eye-fucking each other.

                During meetings, events, social get togethers… when they’ve been pushing each other around.

                Oh.

��               Right.

                Good for them.

…            …            …

                “What made you decide to declare our matrimonial state tonight?” Bradley asks, and it’s a struggle to talk, Jake’s mouth on his neck sucking, biting and kissing. His fingers have already undone the buttons of Bradley’s shirt and pushed it off, now working on his belt.

                “Novelty had worn off. I want the novelty of being able to hold your hand, or kiss you if I want to or…”

                “Or simply say we’re married?”

                “Yeah. That too.”

THE END

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.��� Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…��What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

[eliluvschan]

Guess the Girl :)

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 1.486

warnings: lots of fluff

genre: fluff

a/n: did y’all see the way this man teases Stay on ‘FANS’ ? there’s no way he wouldn’t be the same announcing his girlfriend 😩

—

Chan’s pov.

—

“baby!” i called my girlfriend’s attention. she’s my girlfriend of like, four months. and we both really like each other. my parents love her, and her’s love me. the company likes her and so do the boys. so we’re all good.

but the thing is, my fans don’t know yet. they’ve been getting very curious about it, though. i mean, i can only go to so many movies with the others, or alone. and since Y/n was a Stay herself, and i met her at a concert. not at a meet & greet.

i just saw an angelic, beautiful face in the crowd with the most happy, honest eyes- a lot of them are gonna be shocked. some might like us, some may not, and some may even send hate. i’m just worried about the last part.

“yeah?” she looked at me from above her phone in her hands, pausing the TikTok she was watching.

“i think i’m ready to tell Stay about us. what do you think?” i asked her, speaking slowly. i need her opinion for sure. what if she doesn’t want to tell them now? what if she wants to wait a little longer?

“it’s all up to you Channie. remember what Jyp pd님 said?” she smiled. okay, only my opinion matters now.

“you sure?” i asked.

“yep.” she confirmed.

“so we can’t just throw it in their faces, can we?”

“what do you mean?” she asked, looking rather like she was about to burst out laughing.

“i mean, i can’t just post a picture of us and go ‘hey y’all, this is Y/n. my girlfriend. we’ve been going out for four months and we really like each other’ .”

she let out a small laugh. “why not?” she asked.

“well, because one, i’m the creative one here, and i feel like playing a little game with them!” i said, leaning back in my seat as a hundred ways to tease them crossed my mind. i actually feel like teasing them, which i do most of the time during Chan’s room.

“i’ve got an idea!” i exclaimed and jumped up.

“what?” she put her phone away.

“let’s make them guess who you are!” i smiled brightly. she gave me a questioning look. i sat back down.

“look. we post a picture of us together, but maybe conceal half of your gorgeous face.” she blushed here. “or take a picture only showing one side of your face or something like that.” i continued. “should be fun?”

she leaned back and gave me a half smile. “okay.”

i smiled back and took my phone to open Instagram.

i took a photo Y/n took of me and shared it to my story.

i smirked as notifications started rolling in.

“well, i see the fandom’s got something to be eager about now.” she chuckled, scrolling down her own profile. i shook my head, half in disbelief at questions people dm’ed me and half in amusement.

“yep. now we need help.”

—❀—

“Jagiya! you ready?” i asked Y/n excitedly. she put her hair up in a bun and pulled her hood on her head. then she checked herself out in the mirror- can i just say she is the prettiest thing i ever set eyes on?

she smiled happily and followed me outside where Hyunjin stood ready with his phone. he will post a picture of us, in a discussed position.

“positions.” he commanded, in a professional photographer style. pabo.

but we did as he told us to. Y/n got up on a little stone pole and threw her arms around my neck. both of us had put on our hoods.

“got it!” Hyunjin shouted as he took the picture.

we went back inside and got comfortable around the kitchen. Chan and i were laughing, at the reactions he was getting.

@/hynjinnnn

@/hynjinnnn Channie hyung and …Someone ;) #GuessTheGirl

hilarious. i opened my Instagram and liked the photo.

then to tease Stay a bit more, i decided to share a photo on my story.

“very funny, Mr. Bang.” she said.

“what?” i laughed. she gave me an ‘not funny’ look and i stopped and pouted. she giggled and pecked my lips, as i smiled at her.

“next?” she asked. “tomorrow.” i told her. she nodded and disappeared outside.

next pose. what should it be? tease them? go easy on them?

—

i woke up and got ready for the day. after shoving down some breakfast, i drove over to Y/n’s place to pick her up. i haven’t asked her to move in with me yet, but soon i will.

“hey baby!” she greeted me as she hugged me tightly.

“hey. i missed you.” i kissed her forehead. “missed you too.” she smiled. we had a little nose-fight and then we proceeded to her lounge. i spent the day at her house, cuddling, watching movies, goofing around, and then for dinner, i took her back to our dorm.

guess the girl, picture two, goes up tonight.

“hey guys.” Seungmin smiled at us as he saw us on the couch. she was actually on my lap and quickly got off. she’s still shy around the guys.

i pulled her back on and kissed her softly. “ew.” i heard Hyunjin and then heard the guys leave. she smiled kn the kiss. i pulled away. she smiled, her eyes shining. i nuzzled my face in her neck, and we spent another few minutes in each other’s company.

“Seung! picture time!” i yelled over my shoulder.

“be right there!” he called back. and only minutes later he was there, ready with his phone.

i picked Y/n up and threw her over my shoulder. but instead of keeping her like that, i put my head between her legs. Y/n made a flying motion with her arms as she laughed. her hair was in a bun and her face was slightly blurry so it wasn’t clear.

“all done guys.” Seungmin said as he took the picture. i put Y/n back on hr feet and together we looked at the photo Seungmin took of us.

@/miniverse.__

@/miniverse.__ Chan hyung’s girlfriend is honestly the sweetest person alive ;) you guys are gonna love her. #GuessTheGirl!

i chuckled, as my notifications blew up. i scrolled through them and stopped at one. someone’s got the answer right. someone named Da-eun.

“hey, do you know someone named Da-eun?” i asked. she nodded and right at that moment, she took out her phone. “oh yeah. Eun guessed it.” she said, showing me her dm’s.

‘is that you with Chan? OMG! OMG! OMG! why didn’t you tell me?! i’m so happy for you both!!!’

“should i tell her?” she asked.

i nodded. she smiled and began to type. minutes later, a few others guessed as well.

then suddenly a notification from Changbin popped up.

@/jutdwae

@/jutdwae grossest couple ever. #Don’tGuessTheGirl :P

he took a photo of us while we were laying in bed, her face surrounded by her hair. looked like it was taken a few days ago.

then Lix had tagged both me and Changbin.

@/yong.lixx

@/yong.lixx shut up Changbin. #GuessTheGirl

and with that, a picture of me spinning her around when we went ice skating. it was taken a few weeks ago. she wore my beanie and let her hair loose so you wouldn’t see her face.

after Lix’s post, i shared another photo to my story.

then came a notification from Jeongin.

@/i.2.n.8

@/i.2.n.8 these two are so in love, it makes me sick 🤮

i checked my timeline and most people had guessed right.

“Channie?”

“hmm?” i looked up.

“just tell them already.” she said.

i laughed and shook my head.

“why not?” Y/n asked.

“well, i don’t feel like it yet, and it’s so fun to see them making wild guesses.” i said.

“but they’ve guessed.” she said waving her phone in my face.

“everyone?” i asked, sitting up.

“mostly everyone i know, yes.”

“okay.” i sighed. “that was quick. i was hoping to tease them more.”

she rolled her eyes.

@/gnabnahc

@/gnabnahc if you guessed @/yourname you guessed right! well played ;) #GuessTheGirl

“really, baby?”

i laughed. “what?”

“i told them. the guessed who my girl is. you.” i said, putting my arms around her neck and kissing her cheek.

“i love you.” she mumbled into my shirt. did i hear that right?

“w- what?” why the hell am i stuttering?

“i love you.” she repeated.

“i- i love you too ba- baby girl.” i said, and felt my cheeks burn. what is happening to me?

“you do?”

“you guessed right, too!”

~

[hyacinthusmemorial]

is it only me, who goes like "Apollo must have flashback to hyacinth dying , when he saw Achilles and dead Patroclus,

Am I the only one who thinks of this? Okay

If that’s your personal head canon, go right ahead. Believe what you want to, nobody will stop you. 👍😉 I think its definitely a sweet sentiment, and a fun little brain worm.

But, I don’t think Apollo would react that way for for quite a few reasons. The first is mythology and the second is psychology and the third is genre.

The mythological reason is that Apollo is directly and purposefully responsible for Patroclus’s death, and he definitely hates Achilles. Like actually. The List of Top Ten People Apollo hates has Achilles twice on it. If he was in a room with Hitler, Stalin, and Achilles, and he had a gun with two bullets in it, he would shoot Achilles twice. He wants Achilles to suffer, and when Patroclus dies he tells Hector that he’s the third guy to kill him, but Apollo was the first to kill him. Because I think everyone in the Trojan war knows Apollo and Achilles hate each other. Apollo because Achilles murdered his sons (plural) and Achilles because he knows Apollo’s going to kill him. Reasons for their bitter rivalry can be found in this post here. There are more probably too.

As far as the psychological aspect, let’s assume Apollo’s psyche is like a human’s (which I do not think it totally is, but that’s another post). Trauma and Grief are two completely separate experiences. Grief is a normal human thing which we are given excellent coping skills to overcome by nature. People die. It’s a fact of life. But, HOW people die can be traumatic. For example, if your in a war and you watch your buddy die from a mine exploding and he doesn’t die right away, that’s traumatic. The grief is still separate from the trauma. Its closely aligned, but its separate. Trauma on the other hand is a situation that humans are not equipped to handle—its a situation outside the psychological norm. So our brain adapts normally to an abnormal situation.

I think the only true similarity between Patrochilles/Hyapollo deaths is that they were gay and one of them died before the other. If anything, Apollo was feeling a little vindictive when Patroclus died. He was the arm of fate that killed Patroclus, and Achilles absolutely deserved the death and destruction of everything he held dear in my POV. He was a serial assaulter and a war criminal.

Another reason why flashbacks just don’t work is because flashbacks are a trauma response. I think there’s a separate issue where one might live in the memories of a loved one’s passing, but that’s separate from a flashbacks. Flashbacks from PTSD are when the subconscious fear overwhelms the conscious. It requires a trigger, which can be anything and sinister—subtle and terrible. We know from the ancient authors that one of Apollo’s trigger is a westerly wind. @gingermintpepper had an excellent post providing several sources about Apollo’s approach to Hyacinthus and Asclepius’s deaths.

A flashback is a fear response in a situation that does not require this response based off of a trigger that puts the sub-conscious into a flight/fight mode and makes someone relive a previous traumatic experience. So for example Apollo might feel a western wind and relive Hyacinthus’s death or fear that Zephyrus is about to hurt him or the person he is with. This also depends on coping skills, and whether the person has developed grounding skills to put them back in the present.

I don’t believe that the situation with Patroclus/Achilles is triggering in the right way to elicit a flashback in Apollo. Patroclus and Achilles deaths are pretty different from Hyacinthus’s. So even if he had a grief response it would be minimal. At least from my perspective, one of my parents died when I was a child, and I had to take care of them while they were sick. I take care of a lot of sick people in my day to day, and I will say I rarely ever experience something that puts me back into the mode I was in when my parent died. I walk past the room my parent died in sometimes, cause I work in the hospital that they died in, and I am alright because I recognize the situation and I’m able to accept they died there. Alternatively, what does illicit a response in me is a certain smell my parent had when they were dying. I recognize it in patients sometimes, and I can have a visceral response to that, but again, I have learned how to appropriately deal with these sorts of things because “improve, adapt, overcome.”

Trauma is absolutely just a part of living in the world. Everyone has their own life story and troubles and triggers and struggles. But I don’t think Apollo/Hyacinthus connects to Patroclus/Achilles in any intense way.

Alternatively, I think perhaps something Apollo might have a more visceral response to is Hermes and Crocus, who are quite nearly the same dang story. That’s Apollo’s brother, and he loses someone the same way Apollo lost someone. That would open up gateways of intense suffering.

As far as genre goes, Apollo and Hyacinthus have a horror story parading as a romance story. Zephyrus is a sinister, invisible monster—he causes violence in a place where violence does not belong. On the other hand, Patroclus/Achilles is a war story—violence is expected. They both absolutely knew they were going to fie in that war, so their agony is expected from the beginning. Hyacinthus’s loss is unexpected and therefore, grievous. Not that losing your lover/cousin in a war is less horrific—it’s just prepared for, while losing your lover in a meadow while playing discus is…not.

I don’t mean that your personal view is wrong in anyway. Apollo is a divine character and anybody can have any view of him they would like. A lot of people view him as the antagonist of the Iliad and Achilles’ story, which to me, he just isn’t. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I love perspectives and opinions. I like sharing mine, so I love it when people share theirs.

[restricted-on-13th]

Kaishin but it's The Bachelor

Be warned: this is a long post

I'll make at least 3 follow-up post for this, one for all the scenes I lost (ohmyfricking, my ice skating scene, ferrish whell confession, amusement park date, meteor shower escapade, night dances and my tango dance which is half of the masquerade, the outsider povs too sooooobbb) and the other two for Shinichi as the Bachelor instead or a mix of the two

Now for those who don't know what The Bachelor is, it's a dating reality show where at least 30 candidates are given chances to go on a date with the Bachelor (the person they are actively courting) This has rounds where each contestant is given roses by the Bachelor, signifying they are staying on the show, or aren't given any which means they are disqualified. There are events and dates in this show too along with activities where sometimes, the candidates or the Bachelor can choose the venue or site. Click this link to understand more, you can watch videos to get a handle on it too. I only watched some of the Asian spin offs of this show so it might be a bit different for me. (I might also have some original setting that might be different from how the reality show worked)

My setting includes:

-A walk-in wardrobe for the contestants (includes already styled outfits for the whole look, this is a life saver to Shinichi as a candidate who walked out and immediately got dissed on his clothing by the other candidates, the staff and the viewers (later when the episode was aired) he was sent back inside the wardrobe and chose the clothes off a mannequin instead even though it wasn't a feature of the show to take the whole outfit but it was later added due to Shinichi, he also met a candidate called Mimeko who is a seamstress who he asks for help too, she also joined the fun in dressing up Shinichi)

-A viewer voting polls for the dates and contestants (explainable, have fun ;) )

-Introductory video that is shown in the episodes, the bachelor and the candidates each have one (I don't remember if this is part of the actual show but im adding this for original setting if it isnt, this can go 2 ways: each of the candidates videos would be while they are introduce in episode one, meaning everyone will see in the show, or it can also be only shown to the bachelor, the viewers and the staff instead without showing anything to the candidates, only having watch their own and the bachelor's introductory video instead)

30 girls/guys or mixed cause we're being inclusive- The Bachelor staff in this au, post-conan timeline and far off into the future. Shinichi is working as a consultant and private detective, he's also known as a closed off famous detective that managed to take down an organization (BO) at the age of 19 going on 20, he's also been credited to working with multiple international law enforcement notably with the FBI, closing multiple unsolved and dangerous cases that involves high profile criminals. He doesn't have social media (to the loss of his fans) but is regularly covered by the media, leading him to have a large media presence as a detective (very professional, bro does not share life details or preferences easily, fans commonly and constantly bemoan the fact that the man is married to his work). He grew up from a haughty teenage detective meddling in crime scenes to the now beloved Ice Prince of the media, having visuals passed down from his mom that make you think he's an idol/model or enough to make you bent (while not as large as his female fans, he does have a sizable male fans). He also is biologically younger, it being one of the lingering effects from APTX as the poison literally destroys his cells and fats to turn him into a kid (seriously, how does bro survive that?), I always headcannon that Shinichi, after taking the antidote, would suffer from side effects for a while. In this au, he survived largely unscathed, only with a decreased immune system after taking the antidote and looking younger than all of his peers as he got turned back to the age he took the poison, so teenage body, when he's supposed to be 19-20. With also taking a hit on his immune system, his growth also got stunted meaning that after recovering his strength, health and immune system for like a year, he's much more smaller than Adult Kaito here in the show.

He's now 27 and after surviving attempts on his life, bless his heart, Shinichi is sent off to The Bachelor without his consent.

Sonoko, Ran and Yukiko planning in background, days pass, shoves a contract to the reality show to Shinichi's face with his signature forged already

Cue multiple near begging, near bribing, and near escape from Shinichi

The girls reason would be after a multiple failures in matchmaking, setting dates and introducing Shinichi to just about anyone (either he attracts murderers, creeps, stalkers or he just ends up befriending the person they introduced to him, its mostly the females that he befriends though, all the women he met and befriended has a tacit understanding of Shinichi being too much like kicked puppy that they can’t help pity the guy when it's so obvious he's not into it but still respects them, his friends goodwill and his mother's desire for grandkids, it also doesn't help that he's like a girl friend, understanding girl talks, shopping, being a dork that's so earnest even when he sucks ag giving fashion advice to his GirlFriends and the adorable mothering he does for the shounen tanteidan, some even privately think that damn this guy is a better girl than me or suspects he's gay due to remaining single for long and the SIGNS)

He is ;) he just doesn't know it yet

They're getting desperate here and it doesnt help that Shinichi is too much of a taciturn ass in dating, having little to no love life or worse, a disaster in his love life (Shinichi's love life is NOTORIOUS, not only in divisions one but in all law enforcements he works with, it also doesn't help that he gets psychos, yanderes and criminals as his partners and when they inevitably get possessive, pissy and angry at either Shinichi or people close to him, resulting to threats that are almost often publicly stated,

Cue the media storm and coverage cause man's love life is publicly known as a disaster

yes, there have been multiple memes about Shinichi's love life, Shinichi is unaware of the memes)

Sonoko: That detective geek can't possibly seduce my Kaito-sama! (She wants Shinichi to introduce Kaito to her and they'll have their wonderful love story UwU)

Ran being the good big sister: Shinichi needs someone by his side (preferably, not murderous)

Yukiko: Shin-channnnn, you need a girlfriend! Or a boyfriend or you'll end up single past your prime! I need to see my grandchildren soon! (Also low-key worried that Shinichi is going to be eternal single and she doesn't want him to be lonely)

Now this could go in a number of ways, Shinichi as The Bachelor or Shinichi as a candidate for The Bachelor (Kuroba Kaito, up and coming Magician who has won multiple international awards due to his Magic shows)

I need you to check Exhibit A and B to get what I mean regarding ELO and Non-ELO, its below 'As a Candidate'

Kaito, after hanging up the metaphorical cape on the mantle (He and Conan had a goodbye meet where Conan is soon going to leave so he can live his original life where they chat and talk all night long, both enjoying their limited time together, Kaito knows Conan is a teenage detective and has a crush on his Meitantei, he couldn't deny it anymore especially after finding out what happened to the other but he won't act on it while the other is pint sized so he just enjoys their time together, but in ELO, even though he already had pretty much all the clues, he respected Conan's privacy and didn't try to find out his real identity but in non-ELO, Kaito did snoop and found Kudo Shinichi though he didn't act on his crush as he knew the other still had Ran and needed time to get his life together) He comes back to Japan from Paris, having received an internationally acclaimed award in stage magic, is either in this reality show due to his Mom (Yukiko and Chikage setting their sons up together where Chikage actually spills this to Kaito, where him being his devious cunning self in Non-ELO, after having found out that all these years, Ran and Shinichi didn't get together and actually settled into a familial friendship instead, being presented the opportunity to snatch his Meitantei, takes it) or for his work (like connections wanting to support him so they gave him the opportunity to be in this show which Kaito agreed to due to being amused and curious and doing it just for formality's sake)

(Introductory video- I'll add it later as I have to rewrite it again along with at least 8 scenes that got deleted too :( )

As a Candidate:

Shinichi as a candidate is just Shinichi, he won't hate on the mysterious bachelor but that doesn't mean he's not grumpy :)

Shinichi also doesn't recognize Kuroba is Kid while Kid can either recognize Shinichi immediately or doesnt recognize him

When the bachelor (Kuroba) is first introduce, Shinichi just writes him off, preferring to brood and be annoyed, thinking escape plan after escape plans. He can't just run off without a proper excuse though, due to the contract that says he need to stay for the whole duration of the show until he's disqualified, he shivers to think of himself as a candidate in this awful reality show, and also because Yukiko called up her connections (the Producer Director of the show) to "pretty please make Shin-chan stay there, I just want my baby to get laid" which is just a thinly veiled command of "don't let him escape, I. Want. Those. Grandchildren." So he reigns himself to going along with it for now, ie going on those dates.

Exhibit A: Shinichi bonds with The Bachelor, Kuroba (he can know or not know about Shinichi being Meitantei) and becomes his shield for Begone Thots after Kaito (Shinichi can know about this or doesnt know, Kaito might also be purposely doing this cause you know, this might all be Kaito courting Shinichi hehehe, or Kaito doesn't recognise Shinichi and just outright thinks it would be funny and he wants to at least have someone on his side to use as a metaphorical human shield) shares his fake love life, drawing pity from Shinichi (staging many opportunities where Shinichi actively engaged in dates to help Kaito due to feeling sorry for the man and a kindred spirit to which Kaito knowing who he is, would gladly take it, or Kaito not knowing who he is, would slowly fall in love with him)

Exhibit B: Shinichi actively antagonises Kuroba to "get the hell out of this reality show quickly by being disqualified by the angry Bachelor" (Kaito can know about Shinichi, to which he's lovingly infuriated with Shinichi and want to either smack or kiss him, or to Kaito not knowing about Shinichi therefore is angry back until Shinichi also starts to dislike the guy, now this can go into the Enemies to Lovers Trope :) imagine the reactions of the viewers at the end of the reality show, Im calling it Eemies to Lovers Offshoot or ELO for short)

I can see Shinichi calling Takagi in the middle of the show, begging (bribing, blackmailing) to deliver case files to him. He'd be a candidate in this offshoot, with the candidate's phones being confiscated so he staged a little heist to steal a phone, mostly because it was written in the contract for Shinichi so yes, its targeted ;)

cause Shinichi, you don't need your files and work while on a reality show, you workaholic tehee~♡ -Yukiko)

3 outcomes possible you can combine ;)

The deed was caught in camera only due to Kaito suspecting Shinichi doing something and what do ya know, Heisei Holmes performs a heist (they dont recognise each other offshoot, ELO route)

The deed caught in camera only due to Kaito amusingly following Shinichi (he knows Shinichi as meitantei but Shinichi doesnt know him as Kid)

It wasn't explicitly caught in camera and only became known when at a later episode of the Bachelor, Takagi came with the case files, leading the staff currently at that time finding out about the little heist. Of course, the production staff reviewed their videos and recordings and was able to find small snippets of Shinichi's planning, lending an amused, indignant, and speechless air to everyone inside the viewing room. (Later episode that aired where Takagi arrived with the files involved a small snapshots of clips of Shinichi planning and a small clip of Shinichi walking down the hallway for a staff only room and a bathroom, confidently while sneakily striding and leaving the hallway with a skip in his steps and a small smile, there was an explanatory text that rolled up in the screen after this explaining how the staff found out about the Little heist the famous Heisei Holmes did, after this is a clip of a confrontation by the Producer Director to Shinichi with the director just asking which phone he used to contact Takagi-keibu and Shinichi just gives a smug smirk as he sharply glances back at the PD pointedly) (this can be ELO or not-ELO route)

There would also be a scene in the middle of the date where Shinichi goes along (or snarkily if its the enemies to lovers trope/ ELO) with Kuroba and he excuses himself to the bathroom, going inside the stall to immediately try to escape.

Cue Kaito waiting outside thinking why the hell is his date taking so long inside the bathroom (grumingly in enemies to lovers or ELO route, or amusingly if Kaito knows Shinichi and he just cracks jokes about how this is like being on a date with a girl then drawing references of Shinichi being the girl then Shinichi having wifey vibes just without the ability to cook elaborate recipes, yes, shinichi can cook basic meals in this au, nowwwwwww with this statement about Shinichi not being able to cook elaborate meals? Shinich fans zoom on this, why? Cause this little tidbit of fact isn't a widely known fact except for the Very Dedicated Old fans of Shinichi cause man is tightlipped about his private life. Most surface level fans just assume he can cook and with most defaulting that since he's mister perfect then he's able to cook like 5 star chef but nooooo, thats not it. The statement of about Shinichi not being able to make elaborate recipes cements to the oldies in the Lovers of One-Truth club, oldest Shinichi stan fanclub, that Kuroba might potentially or actually be a Shinichi stan. Viewers and fans start a whole commentary and discussion about this theory on twitter)

Shinichi comes out of the bathroom with a glum face (right after escaping through a bathroom window, running from the PD who while walking around the place, bought a milktea while at work and was enjoying the view, was caught slacking by Shinichi who they found was unexpectedly escaping through the window *spider man meme pointing at each other* , running and dogding the hordes of staff the PD called to catch him, the PD gets called back to work, until he gets tackled by one and gets put through the most intense retouching of makeup and clothing in under 1 minute by a terrifyingly capable makeup artist and fashion coordinator)

Shinichi stepping sleepily into the living room while the candidates lounge around Kaito in the late morning (buttering him up, acting coy with him or just having a nice conversation while Kaito there is being a charming gentleman) Kaito then cheerily says "Kudo-kun, good morning!" as Shinichi just coldly steps aside him ignoring him or more like not computing anything then makes a beeline for the kitchen, hovering right in front of the coffee machine and making eyes with it (homoerotic, terrifying and intense)

The atmosphere in the living room just drops after that cold shoulder, silence pervading as the camera rolls and records it.

Now 3 outcomes yet again hahahaha:

Kaito takes offense to his cold shoulder (unintentional) and it both further angers him with Shinichi thus giving more fuel to the ELO trope where the morning scene is then repeated in later episodes of the Bachelor, it's only Kaito and Shinichi in the living room where Kaito soon takes notice that Shinichi didn't mean to offend him and just isn't really a morning person

Kaito takes offense to this and Shinichi, playing into this misunderstanding to get disqualified early, doesn't clear it up and this also plays to ELO

Kaito is amused by this as he knows Shinichi, even in his Conan days, takes time to compute and understand the living world in the mornings and that coffee is his life blood (non-ELO)

Before I forget, Why is Shinichi not outright getting disqualified? There are 2 reasons I made up for it, you can choose:

One- I'm using one of my original setting here, instead of that setting only affecting dates and which candidate gets to participate in date chances, I'm adding a feature where it also affects who gets to stay in the show via the giewers voting the candidate they want to stay. Shinichi is constantly getting voted by his fanclub (for the sake of getting Shinichi a normal lover, wink wink), the internet trolls (in ELO route, it's funny cause Kaito clearly dislikes him or in non-ELO route, it's funny cause Shinichi clearly wants to get disqualified) and his friends, colleagues and family (The police force, the FBI, you can throw in the Interpol there, basically all of the law enforcement he worked with, since he also worked on cases internationally, you bet that's a lot and that's still not counting his family and friends where you can also bet that Sonoko would absolutely throw some cash to get people to vote Shinichi, she's not really doing it of course but she will, if given the chance, maybe half for Shinichi's sake but also half for Shinichi to suffer)

This would basically be that one idol in a Chinese idol show, here's for more details. (Yes, I am laughing my ass off right now)

Two: You can ignore number one as this reason is actually logical and very simple, Kaito doesn't vote Shinichi off

In ELO route, he doesn't disqualify Shinichi as he already dislikes the guy and he's only here for formality's sake so he's using Shinichi as an unofficial meat shield (Shinichi is not aware of this) from the other candidates (not that it works much)

In non-ELO route, it's because he wants Shinichi (duh) so he wouldn't want to get him disqualified but if he doesn't recognise Shinichi, same in the ELO route, he uses him as a meat shield though much more official where Shinichi actively tries to spend time with Kaito and get him to enjoy their 'hangouts' and also decidedly a lot less more grumbling as their introduction here didn't sour relations yet (if it's intentionally in Kaito's part in notifying Shinichi about his status as a meat shield to ask for help to get him away from the other candidates so he can spend more time with Shinichi, well, you choose :) )

Now extra scenes:

Boat date

-An event where each candidate would take a 30 minute date on a boat in a lake, the candidates found out about Kaito's Ichthyophobia, only Shinichi took it seriously and didn't laugh or found it funny and where he actively tried to get Kaito to enjoy the date, even in ELO route though a lot more unenthusiastic in making it enjoyable. Kaito later takes note of how Shinichi acted about the reveal, either thankful or thinking that the guy ain't so bad afterall. Kaito's fans, some of Shinichi's fanclub and the viewers also took notice of Shinichi's act and it started a very small subset of Kaishin shippers.

There would also be a few candidates who never actually took the phobia seriously or worse, think they can fix it. They would take their date chances and order food with fishes or actively go to a place with fishes and do those activities. Kaito would either try to endure, frankly say he doesn't like it, or storm out if he can't handle it anymore. Shinichi would later find Kaito in the dorms crying about it where he'd frankly tell him that "People who don't understand his phobia who actively make fun of it or expose him to it isn't worth giving his time for. People who do try to understand it are the ones worth considering and keeping around. "(Wow Shinichi are you advertising yourself? But seriously, even in ELO route, I can see Shinichi comforting Kaito about his phobia. Dislike or not, he'd tell him his opinion frankly and bluntly. He'd offer a shoulder to cry on or for someone to lean on but he'd still say his piece in the most firm gentle voice yet blunt manner of speaking.) Shinichi would then tactlessly blurt out "And hey, if someone wants to kill you, they just need to trap you in a room full of it". This startles a laugh from Kaito as Shinichi sheepishly scratches his head, face a bit flushed from embarrasment as Kaito says "Your head is just full of murder cases, huh? Kudo-kun" (This wouldnt be caught by a camera, this would be Kaito's own private moment, not shared with any of the public)

Garden picnic date alongside a lake

-It's an outside date where all of the candidate are participating, there are candidates who approached kaito during the date but there are also some who enjoyed the view. (Kaito later approached them instead) He entertained and did some magic for them. Shinichi had already split off from the group early on and found an isolated place near the lake under a tree where he read a book, there's only one cameraman who came with him, this can go into the ELO route where Kaito found Shinichi tried to at least be civil but Kaito, knowing from prior experience how rude the other can be, retorted rudely. This would go into a fight (verbally, I think they won't trade blows at least) where Shinichi would end up (accidentally) pushed into the lake. Shinichi would storm out of the garden in wet clothes, flushed with anger in Kaito, where Kaito would be frustrated, angry and slightly apologetic (he'd also take note that the other looks fine in wet clothes, the white polo didn't help) There would also be backlash to Kaito from Shinichi's fanclub and some of the viewers, where some would actively hate Kaito or viewers now disapproving of the magician. This would actively make Kaito think unfavorably on Shinichi, now actively wanting to disqualify him for it but knows he can't cause it would be a media storm. Now considering that there's a viewer poll setting in this au, there would be people banking on Shinichi getting disqualified or Shinichi's fans not voting him for dates. This works as Shinichi wasn't chosen for the dates after this but of course, Shinichi doesn't get disqualified (unfortunately, for Kaito and Shinichi) this also gave rise to the internet trolls who voted Shinichi for dates instead (this also worked after the unvoting fiasco, leading to dates where Kaito and Shinichi is staring with each other in silence until someone inevitably breaks it)

This can also go into the non-ELO route where Kaito instead found Shinichi, where they actively engaged in a conversation without being rude to each other, enjoying the conversation until Shinichi, still a bit sleep deprived from the early leave in the morning to get on time on the scene for the garden setting, dozes off against the tree (kaito is staring and you can't blame him, for someone like Shinichi who often makes cold expressions (often not intenionally, he's just thinking or deducing) or sometimes sneering, its fascinating to see him asleep, face's now set in soft lines. Now if you want it more cliche, Shinichi grumbles and squirms until he finally found the comfortable position, only this position is leaning against Kaito with his head on his shoulder's. (Kaito is screaming inside from how cute and adorable Shinichi is in his sleep)

Pool date

-Shinichi thanks his lucky stars that he doesn't have to take an outfit from a mannequin or coordinate an outfit (often asking his fellow candidates for help to avoid getting criticised) he just grabs a hoodie and swim trunks, taking a book with him and sunglasses. (Going to the pool to read a book.....) Kaito would get accosted by the candidates in the pool while Shinichi is just in the shade (reclining chair, juice in hand, lemon tea, not too sweet with ice and a straw) with a few candidates who prefer to not get wet or doesn't know how to swim. (In ELO route, Kaito would scoff at Shinichi and think how haughty he is, just like any detective he met except tantei-kun)

Shinichi would actually get to bond here with one of the candidates who can't swim (a timid shorter girl who is a seamstress with dark brown hair and wide brown eyes that seemed to dislike him) she initially thought Shinichi was a rude and haughty person (shes a Kaito Kuroba fan) but after getting to know him, she starts to see that he's a pretty nice guy. Shinichi, after talking with her, takes it upon himself to at least help her and teach her how to swim. He gets up from his spot as they both walk to a corner of the pool (the kiddies part or the shallow part) where Shinichi taught her how to swim and float, the very basics to which Kaito interferes in the lesson.

In ELO route, Kaito would interfere in slight disdain that Shinichi might be trying to woo a girl while in a reality show where it's Kaito who is supposed to be courted (wow possessive much?) but found out when he stayed there for a bit while Shinichi was teaching, he stared at Shinichi while Shinichi was getting unerved but resolved to ignore the stare as much as he can. The girl (Im naming her Mimeko) being taught just being 'Don't mind me, you can oggle him Sir as much as you want, thank you very much, he's all yours.' (she's also a Kuroba Kaito fan, she's also a closeted fujoshi while she's just discreetly watching) that he was just being helpful. Kaito gets curious then and stays there for a bit while he also joins in teaching Mimeko-chan about swimming. He thinks that Shinichi is also pretty cool (and sexy, especially when he moves that sunglasses of his head while in the pool, all wet from swimming as he smirks. And never forget adorable, when he beams and smiles when the girl gets the technique he showed right)

In the non-ELO route, Kaito gets jealous of the girl being taught by Shinichi. He subtly signaled to Mimeko-chan that 'he's mine' by volunteering himself to be used as example in swimming or Shinichi is showing an example of it (like kicking his legs while doing the strokes where he asked kaito to hold him while he demonstrated it, Kaito doors as he's told but does it more suggestively, holding his hips instead of his waist while glaring at the girl. Suffice enough she gets the message and also mouthed "need help?" (she's having the time of her life helping her idol and these are two hot men, who wouldnt?) Kaito looks at her and was about to jerk his head in agreement when Shinichi comes up for air and looks back to the girl saying "That's how you do it, did you get it?" Mimeko hastily nods as Kaito smiles innocently at Shinichi, suffice to say that Mimeko did not get Kaito's examples of swimming and only got it right when Shinichi does it (Kaito got a hold on a lot of places that day, mostly Shinichi's waist, hips and chest, ELO route be missing out here)

The Infamous Sherlock Holmes vs Arsène Lupin Fight (almost exclusively for ELO route)

-One fine late morning (cause Shinichi ain't functioning at early morning) Shinichi and Kaito butt heads about the discussion on which is better, Sherlock or Lupin? (This scene would be earlier than most I've written here as I didn't actually write the scenes in chronological order, just when they came in my mind) Shinichi would be trying to find something he can use to make Kaito displeased with him and finding out about him liking Lupin was a good start in getting disqualified. He started the conversation regarding Lupin then said he doesn't like Lupin. Kaito then would ask him what he likes then Shinichi would reply "Sherlock Holmes, of course" then give a throw away comment that Sherlock could capture Lupin and that Lupin is just a thief, he doesn't get the allure of the criminal. (Shinichi just wanted Kaito to dislike him, he was not prepared for what comes next) Kaito takes offense and says "All you detective's are the same! Lupin is a gentleman thief, he can outwit your Sherlock!" Then Shinichi takes offense then starts the fight between two Sherlock Holmes fan and Arsène Lupin fan, from a civil discussion to a verbal dogfight until inevitably Kaito insults Shinichi as a detective and Shinichi insults Kaito as a magician. This is the start of the ELO route. (If you wannt to include this in a non-ELO route then both would still come away from this with Kaito being slightly infuriated and want to kiss him senseless to shut him up, with Shinichi being annoyed with Kaito)

[be-compromised]

Promptathon 2024 Masterlist

Promptathon 2024 has come to an end! With an impressive grand total of 35 fills, and 535 comments at last check. Thank you to everyone who prompted, created, beta read, commented, cheered, and took part. We hope you had fun! Watch this space for Secret Santa 2o24 sign ups coming VERY soon and maybe a little fun for Halloween…

A promptathon masterlist is now available below and on dreamwidth. If there’s any incorrect or missing information please let me know in a comment to the dreamwidth post and I'll make sure it gets updated. (Our Username Database is a handy way to keep us up to date with your online handles for crossposted masterlists.)

The main links for the masterlist go to the original dreamwidth promptathon comments for archiving, but I've tried my best to also include links to AO3 where I've spotted crossposting. Please feel free to post/share your fills elsewhere! If you're using AO3 we have a handy Be_Compromised Promptathon Collection and you can tag works as be_compromised promptathon and community: be_compromised.

If you still have prompt fills that you’re working on, or feel inspired by prompts now or in the future from any of our community events, please do keep creating. Now that promptathon is over they won’t be included as part of the event or masterlist, but they will always be appreciated :)

And on to the main event…

5 Times Clint and Natasha Cursed the Rain and 1 Time They Didn't | AO3 by @cassiesinsanity (PG; no warnings) Prompt: Tokyo wasn't their first time together in an alley in the rain

After The Threesome | AO3 by @inkvoices (Mature; sex) Prompt: After The Threesome They Both Take You Home by Sue Hyon Bae (poem here)

ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard? | AO3 by @quidnunc-life (Teen; no warnings apply) Prompt: Outsider POV or threesome: Woken up 3:45 by voices yelling outside my window. Turned out to be a couple in formal wear, literally standing in the road, who continued to yell back and forth at each other for quite some time, including [one] with, 'I love you!' and [the other] going back with, 'No, you don't!' Very sad that they can't make it work, but could they please have that conversation not outside our open windows at 4am?!

a masterpiece of a mess | AO3 by @cassiesinsanity (Mature; no warnings apply; Clint/Bucky with past Natasha/Clint and Natasha/Bucky) Prompt:Maybe if he was a little less fuckable we wouldn’t be in this mess.

a masterpiece of a mess (remix edition) | AO3 by @cassiesinsanity (Mature; no warnings apply; Clint/Darcy/Natasha) Prompt:Maybe if he was a little less fuckable we wouldn’t be in this mess.

Another String To Her Bow | AO3 by ultra_fic (G/K; no warnings apply) Prompt: Clint learns Natasha can shoot a bow.

Blank Slate | AO3 by @firlalaith (Teen; a little angsty but nothing bad) Prompt: One of them is de-aged. They can't be turned back, so they're going to have to grow up again the long way. (Your choice as to if they still have their memories or are completely de-aged as in they can’t remember any of their past.) The other has to choose whether to also be de-aged and grow up with them, be their friend (and maybe more if history repeats), or stay an adult and protect them (which might have to be from a distance?). Because they both know all too well how vulnerable children are, and had shitty childhoods, and want better for the person they love this time around.

Blindside | AO3 by @cloud--atlas (Teen; no warnings) Prompt: I'm so obsessed with your ex

Butterflies in Iowa | AO3 by @firlalaith (Teen; Character Death, Depiction of a Suicide, Vormir) Prompt: Lila sees Clint during the test run and the consequences

Daughter of Goose by @alphaflyer (G; no warnings apply) Prompt: In which Liho (or Lucky) turns out to be a Flerken.

desirable (and other adjectives) | AO3 by @cassiesinsanity (G; weight gain) Prompt: Clint refers to it as a bulk cycle. Natasha simply calls it getting fat.

Don't Touch Lola | AO3 by @firlalaith (Teen; no warnings apply) Prompt: Endgame AU/fix-it: when Clint and Natasha show up to fetch the Soul Stone it's not there, it turns out at this point in time that someone else already has it.

Every Hawkeye has a Widow | AO3 by @firlalaith (G) Prompt: (615): Your sister reminds me of me at her age. Stop her while you can.

Get by with a little from our friends by @quietlyimplode (Teen/PG13; no warnings apply) Prompt: I can do it with a broken heart

history be rhyming | AO3 by @firlalaith (Teen; no warnings apply) Prompt: “He’s dead. Again.”

Hope in the Rain | AO3 by @quietlyimplode (Teen/PG13; Angst(?)/ Canonical Violence?) Prompt: Tokyo wasn't their first time together in an alley in the rain

I Get By… | AO3 by ultra_fic (G/K; no warnings necessary) Prompt: Kate notices the Black Widow tattoo on Clint's arm

I must have turned bright red (I liked what I saw) | AO3 by @icantopenwaterbottlecaps (Teen; no warnings) Prompt:An adult Natasha signs up to work at a summer camp, as part of her own healing and to give back. Enter Clint Barton, who's been a volunteer there already for a while (or may have similarly been originally ordered to work there like Nat). Everyone knows him, everyone gets on with him, he trains kids in archery and teaches them how to swim and grow in confidence, and he’s just. too. damn. Nice.

In Our Professional Opinion | AO3 by @alphaflyer (Mature; no warnings apply) Prompt: Rating SHIELD safehouses

It Might Be Worth It | AO3 by ultra_fic (Teen; no warnings apply) Prompt: In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

lingering doubts | AO3 by fadedwings (Teen; swearing, nightmares, insomnia, and some angst with a side of cuddling) Prompt: Clint never actually broke entirely free from Loki's control / still had lingering issues until Loki died. Or until the stone that powered the tesseract was destroyed.

Not Another Moment to Waste | AO3 by ultra_fic (Teen; no warnings apply) Prompt: You took the words right out of my mouth (it must’ve been while you were kissing me).

not just another mission | AO3 by fadedwings (Teen; adult language) Prompt: You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi

Out On the Moonlit Floor | AO3 by ultra_fic (G/K; no warnings necessary) Prompt: This is a love story. It must be; it's got kissing in it.

"Paradise Lost" | AO3 by chaed (T; no warnings) Prompt: Superior Iron Man enlists the services of nefarious assassin duo Black Widow and Hawkeye (dark!Clintasha).

Progress | AO3 by @inkvoices (Teen; a character having some anxiety in crowds and being the centre of attention) Prompt: our mutual friend has been talking us up to the other and when we finally meet, we have to tell them that we’ve been in a feud for the last six years

red light | AO3 by @quidnunc-life (Teen) Prompt: Sex work AU

(REMIX: Red Light / Little Red Lies | AO3 by @icantopenwaterbottlecaps  (Teen; no warnings) Prompt: Sex work AU

REMIX: red light / Little Red Lies / ran the red | AO3 by @asterarchers (G; no warnings) Prompt: Sex work AU

she’s gone by @quietlyimplode (Teen; angst) Prompt: When you hold me, it holds me together And you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever

The Ties That Bind by @alphaflyer (Teen; no warnings) Prompt: Clint and Natasha are having the most incredible, amazing first date - what could go wrong?

the words of another | AO3 by @quietlyimplode (Teen/PG13; discussion of mental states) Prompt: Early SHIELD. Natasha hacks into the system and reads what is in her evaluation (Psychologists, Fury, Clint, etc.)

Untitled Fill (100 Word Drabble) by @quietlyimplode  (Teen; angst) Prompt: Non sexual (physical) intimacy

what we do to each other by @poppypickle (T; beginningsofcomplicatedfeelings!fic) Prompt: Don't know what to call this situation, but I know I can't call you mine

you've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks | AO3 by @asterarchers  (Teen and Up; no warnings apply) Prompt: Gentle Ways To Let Him Know You're Dating Each Other

[trafficblr-confessions]

I'm sorry I just can't keep it in anymore, I need release - people need to Shut Up about the content creators and their personal dynamics.

A comment on one of the Takeout Trio/Skranchers vods (Jimmy's vod to be specific) was complaining about how they're so refreshed seeing him playing with people that are "actually nice" to him and how they're sick of all the picking on him and it just.. Jesus christ, butt out? Jimmy is a 27 year old man. He has known his friends for years and doesn't need any of us policing him on who he spends time with or how he spends time with them!

I get it, I really do: I love Jimmy and I love seeing how he's improved and am happy to see him keep going! That moment during the Hermit x Empires crossover when everyone kept saying the best parts of Tumble Town were the pranks genuinely made me feel a bit sick in my stomach because it's just really tough.. but I just click off. Because I know that we see a very limited portion of the interactions between these people in real life. Because I know that if anyone was genuinely uncomfortable about something, it wouldn't really be our business and that the CCs can talk to each other about it off camera.

Beyond that, I love seeing what the fandom does with it! I love seeing the angst, I love seeing the hurt/comfort, the hurt/no comfort.. but then people make it about the CCs or they completely mischaracterize the characters and it's just so-- disheartening.

This happens with a lot of CCs and Characters, but I'm more specifically thinking about Jimmy and Joel (mostly because they're who I watch a lot and I love these silly guys) and how everyone seems to think that nothing but malice stands between them and it's so? Telling? Of how many perspectives they get?

If you just watch Jimmy's or any-outside-the-dynamic povs you might think Joel is Just mean to him,, but like,, good GODS these MEN make me INSANE. First of all, all forms of Joel express their love via pranks and tomfoolery and whatnot. Have you HEARD some of his intros? How he talks about himself between player Joel and editor Joel?? He is mean, yes, but it's GENUINELY like a love language for that man I swear. Jesus christ. What is his deal. Additionally, anytime he visited Tumble Town to prank Jimmy, he almost always ends up complimenting the buildings and how far Jimmy has come and Oh My God this MAN.

Fuck this, this confession is turning into a Joel fan rant. I love Joel. All my homies love Joel. That silly man is an ogre with LAYERS. He has loyalty, but where it lies is less within session to session and more season to season. He can be careless, but it doesn't mean he doesn't Care. There's so many moments in so many series and it's just YAHAGEGEH. Mans is SO... GRGRGGRGRGRGGAAAAAAGH.

One of his intros was literally addressing the fans with "You're all stupid, I love you." completely deadpan. LET THIS MAN. LET THIS MAN OKAY. LET THIS MAN.

"Am I socially awkward?" YES. YES YOU ARE. YES HE IS. HE IS SO FUNKY AND HE LOVES HIS FRIENDS HE IS JUST AWKWARD AND SILLY. I DONT NEED TO BE COHERENT JUST WATCH HIS VIDEOS AMD YOU'LL KNOW.

Also I can't find the post or remember who posted it, but know that whoever the person is that said something about how in every universe and every life Joel recognizes and loves his wife and then there's just his death game assigned soulmate Etho, know that I love you.

End of confession or I won't shut up.

.

[menlove]

Sorry if you’ve been asked this already, but do you have any mclennon fic recs for 1967/pepper era?? I’m obsessed with the vibes around this time, and with Jane away John and Paul seemed to spend a lot of their free time during this period together, but I’ve had trouble finding much of anything. Thx!! <3

oooh good question ! i love love love the 1967/pepper era so let me look back in my ao3 history and see what i've got

these aren't all pepper's era, but they are all 1967 (w the exception of One that's not 67 but Is pepper's). put a 💖 next to ones i especially love

If You'll Shut Up About It, I Will

mature. au. 4k

The day after his birthday, Paul McCartney admits on national television that he's illegally had sex with men. On multiple occasions. But it's the media's responsibility not to spread these things, isn't it? Unfortunately (or fortunately), someone else is watching the broadcast, and wants to know why Paul has decided to declare he's queer to all and sundry when he's the one who's been waiting for Paul to give it a go. AKA, That LSD Interview but make it gayer. note: very interesting, short little au on if paul had come out as having had queer sex rather than having done lsd

you know i know when it's a dream

mature. 5k. In 1967, The Beatles visited Greece with the plan of purchasing an island they could call home. Of course, it was mostly John's idea. note: angsty, smutty little one-shot that hurt my heart

1967 💖

mature. 11.5k. au. In 1961, John Lennon and Paul McCartney left abruptly on a trip to Spain, via France. In 1967, they finally come home to face the consequences. note: not EXACTLY what you're looking for but hey the year is in the title..... but it's sooo good i'll rec this fic constantly. they do definitely have the same aesthetic that they did in real life 1967 too. but this one is so fucking good. it's got an experimental style that lets you see everyone's pov while still remaining really well written which imo is hard to do when you're doing a bunch of pov switches. but it's outsider perspective mclennon & explores the nuances of their relationship and how it was/wasn't impacted by fame and how they'd still be creative with each other if they'd never gotten famous from the beatles...... also they basically create the muppets which i think makes this worth reccing on its own tbh

The Places Where You Bend

mature. 2.6k. "Whatever the opposite of 'toppermost of the poppermost' might be, we're in it up to our asses." It's 1967, all hell is breaking loose, and Paul doesn't know if he can do this anymore. note: ugh i loved this one. it's angsty, as any beginning-of-the-end-of-their-relationship fic is, but it's sooo them and very bittersweet

Stop all the clocks 💖

mature. 30.8k. au. For the following kink meme prompt: ‘1967. After Brian dies, Paul decides not to go ahead with MMT, and takes John up to Scotland for a month instead.’ Also based on the following comment on said prompt: ‘pls someone let them fuck tenderly in 1967’ note: definitely an instant classic! super sweet au that makes you wish life had gone this way for them

Way Up Top 💖

explicit. 12k. Falling out of the sky, together. | Snapshots of the Beatles in Greece, July 1967 note: one of my all-time faves ughhhhhh i just love how they wrote everyone. like ofc the mclennon is great, but this one is so so good for just all around good characterization and writing

always, no sometimes 💖

explicit. 20k. Stolen moments from a single year. Or: four times someone nearly found John and Paul together, and the one time they found each other. Set around the recording of Sgt. Pepper, 1966. note: not 1967, but 100000% the vibe you're looking for. such a good fic. i honestly need to do a re-read bc it's been long enough, but this one was just. augh. so much mustache sex too.

shotgunning

explicit. 3.4k From the kink meme prompt: john/paul, shotgunning weed note: i don't Think this one has a year on it officially, but it definitely fits the vibe you're looking for!

Drop Chute

explicit. 1.9k. paul/robert as well "Paul does coke off Robert's dick and blows him in a public toilet. John is in the neighbouring stall and hates it." FFA asked and I delivered. note: ahhhh we love a good "john getting jealous of paul fucking other men" fic

again

explicit. 1.3k In the summer of ‘67, Paul knows exactly how lucky he is to be the man who gets to fuck John, and then eat him out, and then fuck him again, and then — note: it's smut and it's good smut what else can i say truly

Club Sandwich

mature. 4k. Some drug-fueled party in 1967. Paul ends up sandwiched between two men on the couch. As they start fondling and kissing him, John stumbles upon the scene… note: absolutely great. possessiveness and coke prince paul...... what else could i want from a fic

Carousel 💖

explicit. 3.4k 21 March, 1967. John accidentally drops acid during the mixing of Sgt Pepper. Paul drives him back to Cavendish and decides to take LSD for the first time. Based on true events. John's POV. note: definitely my favorite take on the "john and paul tripping together for the first time" story. so good and introspective.

you can get it wrong (and still think you're right)

explicit. 7.4k. Paul visits John at Weybridge. January, 1967. The laziest man in England, that article had said, and Paul thought suddenly of John, lounging: John, turning the pages of a book with one languid hand, his hair mussed and fetching, making pithy comments to empty rooms. Or maybe he didn’t speak at all when he was alone; Paul realized that he didn’t know anymore. note: aghhhh another great one by stonedlennon. the bittersweetness of their relationship.... love this one a lot tbh

Angles

explicit. 2.7k. John takes another languid drag of his cigarette, his eyes alight now when they look into the lens, meeting Paul's. He's a marvellous subject. They should put him in every movie. "That it?" Paul asks—leading. Hungry. "You're the director. Give us a direction," John goads him. note: looove this one. but all of moeexyz's fics are so good so that's to be expected tbh

an orgasm of sound 💖

explicit. 5.3k “It was a good piece of work between Paul and me. I had the ‘I read the news today’ bit, and it turned Paul on, because now and then we really turn each other on with a bit of song, and he just said ‘yeah’ – bang bang, like that.” — John Lennon Or, John and Paul work on A Day in the Life. note: another great one from moeexyz! this one is..... well. Well. it's very good. what more could i ask for in life than piano sex and a day in the life

[fetusgooseandjuice]

You Kept Your Promise

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: After spending the day in each others arms binge-watching movies, Y/N and Natasha fall asleep with smiles on their faces. But when Natasha gets an urgent call in the middle of the night, she has to live up to her promise to protect Y/N.

Word Count: 4,856

Warnings: Car accident | Mentions of blood

Natasha's POV:

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside. Taking my time with opening my eyes, I could tell that it was fairly early in the morning considering how the sun was only partially up.

I turned my head to look at the clock that sat on my nightstand, it read 7:12 am. My body fell into the routine of waking me up around this time because I liked to have an early morning run. It helps me wake up and start the day feeling productive before going into work.

But today was one of the days where I didn't have to go into the compound. I could stay in the comfort of my own home with the love of my life. I looked down when I noticed the weight on top of me only to see Y/N sound asleep. Her head laid in the crook of my neck, her legs tangled with mine.

She looked so peaceful when she slept. I could feel her breath on my neck. Her eyelashes tickled her cheeks and I smiled to myself when she tried to shift closer to me, but didn't get very far since she was already practically on top of me.

I lifted my hand with the intention of moving it under her shirt to rub her bare back to lull her into an even deeper sleep, but that was all thrown out the window because when my hand made contact with her back, she began to stir.

Her eyes fluttered open, looking up at me with her mesmerizing Y/E/C irises. When saw me already gazing down at her, she shyly giggled.

"Good morning, detka. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." I said softly, continuing to rub her back.

"It's okay, Tasha. How long have you been up?" she mumbled, tiredly rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Not very long. Just a few minutes. We both have clear schedules today, so I was just gonna let you sleep." I told her.

She nodded her head and stretched her legs before relaxing in my arms again, "What did you want to do today? Did you already have plans?" she questioned.

"I was planning on spending all day in bed, cuddling with the girl that I love so damn much." I gently pushed her onto her back to hover over her and pepper kisses all across her face.

She laughed at my antics, letting me peck her face until I tried to connect our lips, "Nooo, I have morning breath." she turned her head, making me kiss her cheek instead.

I frowned when I missed her lips, "I couldn't care less, moya lyubov'." I responded, turning her head back so I could softly kiss her.

Relishing in the feeling of not only her lips on mine, but also the happiness I felt having her with me and being able to wake up to her everyday.

"I love you." she whispered when we pulled away.

I stroked her cheek with my thumb, "I love you more."

I pecked her lips one more time before rolling off of her, getting up to change into a pair of sweatpants and tank top.

"What does my princess want for breakfast, hm?" I asked, looking at her.

"You're going to make me breakfast?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh of course, darling. Wanda has been teaching me how to not set the kitchen on fire so I might as well use this opportunity to put my skills to the test, right?" I grinned at her.

"Wait so this means no more frozen food when you offer to make me something?" she teased, sitting up.

"Hopefully." I answered with a light chuckle, grabbing one of my hoodies out of the closet and helping her put it over her head.

I know she likes to wear my clothes on lazy days, so I don't even wait for her to ask anymore. I grabbed her hand, leading her out of our bedroom and into the kitchen.

"Anything you have a taste for?" I turned around from the cabinet to glance at her.

She hummed while thinking, "Can we have pancakes?" she asked with a grin.

"Pancakes it is." I declared, taking out all of the ingredient and utensils to make them. But when it was time to pour the ingredients into the bowl I paused, forgetting what the measurements were.

She noticed my hesitation and chuckled to herself a little, "Do you want some help?" she questioned, about to jump in and assist me.

"No no no, I got it. I'm making you breakfast for once, so you just sit there and look pretty." While I said the last part I lifted her up to sit her on the counter, giving her a kiss to emphasize my request.

She agreed and sat back while I threw random measurements of the ingredients into the bowl, beginning to stir. When the pan was heated up, I poured some of the batter in and waited for the bubbles to form on top like Wanda told me.

"So what did you wanna do after we eat?" I asked as I turned around to face her, but the second I did she was standing there blowing flour that was in her hand onto me.

She started giggling while I chuckled in shock, "You little-" I set the spatula down on the counter before starting to chase her around the kitchen.

We were laughing and she squealed when I caught up to her, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind to pull her back into me.

I began to tickle her and we playfully struggled like this for a few minutes until I spun her around and pressed her against the fridge with my hands holding her waist, catching her off guard by deeply kissing her.

Her breath hitched, but when she realized what was happening a second later she wrapped her arms around my neck and brought me closer. The kiss only lasted for a few moments before she pulled away to catch her breath.

I nuzzled my forehead against hers, "God I love you so much." I whispered and she pulled my head down by the back of my neck to connect our lips in another searing kiss.

My hands started to wander, moving under her shirt and circling her waist. But our moment was interrupted when she practically jumped out of her skin at the startling sound of the fire alarm. I looked towards the stove to see flames in the pan, smoke rising into the air.

"Shit shit shit-" I mumbled to myself, rushing over to move the pan off the burner trying to put out the fire.

Y/N ran to open a couple windows before grabbing a towel and standing on the counter to wave it under the smoke detector, attempting to get it to stop beeping.

I eventually got the fire out and the alarm stopped ringing. Even though the only thing that burned was the pancake, I still had a pout on my face because my girl was hungry and I just burned her food.

Y/N noticed my disappointed expression and walked over to give me a hug, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"It's okay, baby. We can just find something else to eat. It's not that big of a deal." she reassured me while I let my hands rest on the small of her back.

I shook my head, "No, I'm still making you food. You don't have to worry about anything because I will figure this out."

I guess I was a little bit too determined to do this, but I didn't care.

"M'kay, but I hope you know I'm not eating that..." she trailed off with a chuckle, looking at the extremely overcooked pancake.

"That's not even my fault. You distracted me with that little stunt, and those perfect lips of yours." I whined.

"Okay, maybe I did. But you and I both know you're not really mad about it." she teased with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Just sit your cute butt back up there while I try this again." I playfully sighed, tapping her butt before starting to make another pancake.

~~~

After finally managing to make some edible pancakes for the both of us, we ate breakfast. Y/N had decided on binge-watching movies and cuddling the rest of the day which I had no objections to. I would never pass up a chance to have her in my arms.

Now that it was dark outside and the time was getting closer to 8:00 pm, I ordered dinner from her favorite place which just arrived. I made sure that her meal was exactly how she liked it before bringing the food into the living room where she was waiting for me on the couch with the film paused.

"Here you go, detka. You didn't have to stop the movie for me. We've seen this like ten times already." I spoke, putting the box of food on her lap and placing a quick kiss on her head.

"Don't be silly, Nat. This is your favorite part." she smiled as I took my previous spot on the couch beside her and she snuggled into my side.

"Alright, press play then." I chuckled and she pressed before we started to eat.

"Why did you break up the encounter with my pet python. Because I discovered he had a crush on me." I said the words along with the characters in the movie.

"You do that every time." she giggled.

"Because every time you laugh, and I like making you laugh." I swallowed a bite of food and then turned my head to kiss her temple.

We finished dinner and watched the rest of the movie while Y/N curled further into me. Laying her head on me, I wrapped my arms around her.

I was about to ask her what she wanted to watch next, but when I looked down she laying on my chest fast asleep. I looked at the clock which read 10:48.

"Y/N," I whispered to wake her up, but she didn't move a muscle.

"Come on, darling. We'll be more comfortable in our bed." I softly said, but once again she didn't move.

I smiled to myself, grabbing the remote to turn the tv off. I stood up, picking her up along with me. Carefully stepping over the blanket that fell off of us and onto the floor, I made my way to the bedroom.

I gently laid her down before climbing into bed too. She unconsciously moved closer to me, her head falling onto my shoulder. I pulled the blankets up, making sure that she was covered and then pulling her into my arms.

"Good night, dorogoy. I love you."

~~~

Later in the night, my eyes opened at the sound of my phone ringing on my bedside table. I quickly silenced it so it didn't wake Y/N, looking at the clock on the table. 1:16 am. Whoever was calling me at this time better have a good reason for it.

I glanced at the screen, and it was Steve. Sighing, I slipped out from under Y/N and walked out of the bedroom before answering the phone.

"What? Is it urgent?" I spoke in a hushed voice to not disturb my loves sleep.

"A little bit. The guys that Fury were tracking down were more than one step ahead of us. They've known we were looking for them this whole time. We received a recording from them saying that they have each one of our locations, and they’ll take us out one after the other. Fury needs all of us at the compound ASAP so we have everyone accounted for at all times. Bring Y/N too." he explained over the phone.

"Y/N? Why does she need to be involved in this?" I furrowed my eyebrows out of concern.

"It's just precaution. Y/N is close to you and he doesn't want them trying to use her against us. We don't know what these guys are planning to do. Clint is even taking his family to the safe house before coming here."

"How long is he expecting us to stay?" I asked.

"Not sure. I'd assume until we get them off our backs and this whole thing blows over."

I exhaled, peaking through the cracked open door to make sure she was still asleep, "Alright, we'll be there in a few." I responded before hanging up the phone.

I re-entered the bedroom and walked over to my side of the bed which was where Y/N was currently laying.

"Y/N, detka. Come on, wake up." I whispered, placing my hand on her hip to coax her awake.

"Hm." she murmured, half asleep.

"I know you don't want to wake up, darling, but we've got to go." I told her, and this made her open her eyes.

"What? What time is it, and where are we going?" she mumbled, sitting up.

"It's 1:20. I'll explain in more detail once we get in the car, but we're going to stay at the compound for a little bit, Fury's orders. We can pack some bags but we've got to be quick." I tried to speak in a calm voice to make her not panic.

We've been together for a while, so it's not unusual for her when I have to jump up and leave suddenly. But I've never had to bring her with me before, so this was different.

Okay, but why?" she spoke in a hesitant voice.

"I don't have much time to explain right now you just have to trust me, and you trust me right?" I asked, trying to comfort her.

She nodded her head. "Good. Now just pack some of your clothes, and I'll worry about everything else." I responded.

"Okay." she mumbled quietly.

I leaned in to press my lips to her forehead, letting them linger there for a few seconds before patting her thigh and standing up.

"Alright, let's go." I said and we both changed out of our pajamas, I obviously had to put on my leather jacket that was hung up on the closet door.

As she stuffed clothes into a duffel bag, I made sure my gun was loaded before putting it in my pocket and packing some of my own clothes.

When we were ready I carried the bags out to our white Lada Niva, putting them in the trunk. She got in the passengers seat while I got in the drivers.

"Nat, can you tell me what's happening now?" she said while buckling her seatbelt.

I exhaled, "We made a mistake when tracking down these people, and now they're tracking us. They know where everyone on the team is, and Fury thinks it'll be safer if we're all together. I needed to bring you with me so they don't try to do anything to you."

"They're coming after us?" she sounded nervous.

"We don't know who they're targeting first which is why we're staying at the compound for a little bit. So we're not alone." I buckled my own seat belt and started the car.

"What're they going to do when they get to us? Are they gonna hurt you?" her voice wavered.

I sighed, putting my hand on the side of her face to stroke her cheek, "I don't know, moya lyubov'. But if they try you know I can handle them."

"I'm scared." she confessed.

"I know. I know you're scared, baby. But I've got you, okay? You know i'll never let anything happen to you, yeah?" I spoke in a soft voice.

She nodded her head before looking down. I moved my hand from her cheek, tilting her chin back to look at me so I could lean in and gently kiss her lips.

I knew we really needed to get on the road, but I couldn't move forward with anything else knowing how afraid she felt with how sudden and quick all of this was happening. I had to take a few minutes to comfort and talk to her.

I let her choose when to break the kiss, not wanting to pull away until she was ready so I knew that she was okay.

"I love you, detka." I said against her lips when she pulled away, gazing into her eyes

"I love you too, Nat." she whispered.

At that, I settled into my seat and took the car out of park. The ride to the compound was a little over half hour since she and I bought a small little house in a more rural area.

But the whole drive, I kept one hand on the wheel while holding her hand with my other. I got her to talk about other things to take her mind off the situation.

As she started talking about what she hoped to cook with Wanda, my eyebrows slightly furrowed when I noticed a van make the same turn as us once again. I readjusted the rear view mirror to get a better look.

Considering how late at night it is there are barely any cars out on the roads right now, and it's been behind us for the past few minutes. So now I'm beginning to think it's not just a coincidence.

I continued to nod my head and hum, listening to what Y/N was saying I didn't worry her while making one last wrong turn to which the van also followed.

At this point, it was clear to me that the van was following us. I took my hand out of Y/N's momentarily so that I could reach under the seat and press the emergency button.

There was one in every team members vehicle so that it would subtly alert the rest of them that help was needed. But just a couple seconds later I looked into the rear view mirror, and the van was no longer there.

I didn't know whether to relax or stress more, so I just kept driving on the route to the compound while staying alert. I tried to keep Y/N distracted, but it didn’t last very long.

As we reached the bridge that would take us across the water, out of the side-mirror I saw something fly under the car, and then I heard the explosion.

I felt the sudden wave of heat and the cuts piercing through my skin from the windows shattering. The car flew into the air, rolling over multiple times before crashing into the guardrails, the front of it hanging over the bridge.

"Fuck-" I whispered to myself, lifting my head from where it limply hung forward when the car came to a stop.

I glimpsed out my window, checking to see if what caused this was still there. But even after looking out of the passenger window, I saw nothing. What I did see was that the explosion damaged the main structure of the bridge, making it very unstable.

Looking over at Y/N, she was still conscious but in shock. I could see the pieces of shattered glass in her hair and on her clothes, the bleeding cuts on her face.

"Shit, detka are you okay? What hurts? Tell me what hurts." I said, reaching over to cup her cheeks and wipe blood off her face.

"I-I'm okay, Nat. I'm-" she cut herself off, gasping in pain when she moved her leg.

I shifted my gaze down to see a big shard of glass piercing her thigh, "Oh god, okay. Don't take it out, leave it there because it's stopping the bleeding. I'm gonna get us out of this, it'll be okay."

When I unbuckled my seatbelt I fell forwarded into the dashboard, causing the car to rock more. We both let out a shriek at the sudden motion, and I cursed myself for causing her more fear in a situation like this.

I quickly realized that the only way out was through the shattered rear windshield since the front of the car was hanging over the bridge.

“I’m gonna climb over the seats so I can get out through the back. Don’t move I’m gonna get you out after, alright?” she nodded her head and I kissed her forehead before carefully crawling over the center console, climbing out of the window.

I turned around, now focusing my attention on getting Y/N out, “Okay unbuckle your seatbelt and climb over the seat the same way I did, slowly though.” I called out.

She undid her seatbelt and started climbing over the center console just as I did, but the car suddenly shifted again, leaning further over the bridge. She yelped, slightly falling back.

“Come on, dorogoy. You’ve got it, move slowly.” I tried to calm her down.

She did as I told her, but the sound of a car engine caught my attention. I turned my head to see the same van that was following us earlier come to a stop at the end of the bridge.

I cursed under my breath. I couldn’t deal with these guys right now when Y/N is still in the car. I watched as the doors opened and at least ten people got out, stalking towards us.

In my head I was contemplating what to do, but I didn’t have to for very long because I recognized one of Clint’s trick arrows stunning a few of them.

Steve, Yelena, and Wanda also made themselves known by starting to attack them, giving me time to focus on Y/N.

When she got to the backseat she was now close enough for me to reach into the window and pull her through it. I set her on her feet, but she winced as the leg that had the shard of glass stuck in it gave out, and she collapsed into my arms.

“Oh I’ve got you. Here, get on my back.” I bent down so I could carry her on my back while she wrapped her legs around my waist, and her arms around my neck. I still held onto her, but if I needed to use my hands then I would be able to.

I didn’t really know where to go. I had to get Y/N out of here, but with everything going on around us there really wasn’t a safe place for me to take her until the team took care of those guys.

So I just resulted in getting off the bridge before she’s gets caught in the crossfire. But just as I started to move the car toppled over the bridge, and into the water.

The bridge was already unstable enough, so when this happened the bridge shifted tremendously causing me and everyone else to stumble over their feet. Already being close to the edge when I tripped, I fell over the bridge.

Out of instinct I threw my hands up and managed to grab onto a metal bar that was loosely hanging from the frame of it, Y/N was still holding onto me.

She shrieked out of fear and I grunted while struggling to hold on with both hands. I started to grab the edge of the bridge to pull us up, but it shifted once again before I got the chance.

This time it caused Y/N’s grip on me to falter, her arms and legs slipped from sound me. Before she could fall I took one hand off the bar to grab her hand, holding onto her for dear life.

I tried pulling her back up, but I struggled and my hand was slipping.

“Nat- Nat you have to let me go or we’re both gonna fall.” she stuttered out, but I ignored her words.

Letting go was never an option in my mind. It never would be.

I mustered up as much strength as I could and started to pull her up once more, grunting through gritted teeth. I managed to lift her up enough for her to be able to latch onto my back once again, wrapping her arms around neck and her legs around my waist.

I put my held onto the bar with two hands again, but before I did anything I saw Clint’s head peeking over the edge out of the corner of my eye.

My eyes widened in relief, “Clint, pull us up!” I yelled and he ran over to where we were, giving me his hand and he pulled us back onto the bridge.

I laid there for a second to catch my breath before standing up, helping Y/N up too. I looked around and saw the people that they were fighting spread out on the ground unconscious.

A voice and a hand on my shoulder pulled me out of the thoughts, “Come on, the cars are over here.” Clint said with a small smile.

I nodded my head, picking Y/N up bridal style and following the team to the cars. When we arrived at the compound I took Y/N to the medbay to get her leg looked at by Bruce.

We were there for about an hour as he removed the glass and stitched her up, then I was able to bring her back to my room that I rarely used anymore since I moved out of the compound.

We borrowed extra clothes and changed into them, finally being able to rest in bed. I laid on my back and wrapped an arm around her while she cuddled into my side.

The room was comfortably silent until I spoke up, wanting to talk about something that was on my mind, “Why did you choose me?”

She looked up at me with a slight frown, “What do you mean?”

“This isn’t the life you deserve. Having to flee from your house in the middle of the night is not the ideal life. You deserve someone who has to protect you from the cold weather outside during winter, not from people who are actively trying to kill you. And someone who’ll propose to you with the biggest diamond ring in existence. I can’t give you any of that Y/N.” I told her, staring at the ceiling.

She lightly chuckled, “Natasha if you’re worried about money and material things, I’d marry you with paper rings for all I care. And as for the rest of it, I knew what came with your job. I knew what you did was dangerous, but I still yes when you asked me to be your girlfriend because I love you. I can’t imagine being with anyone else because you are the life that I want.”

I finally looked down at her, “I just hated seeing you hurt.” I whispered, my eyes glossing over.

“Oh, Nat-” she began, sitting up on her elbow to look into my eyes and wipe away a tear that escaped with her thumb, I kept my arm around her waist.

“Before all of this happened you promised that you would protect me, and you did. There’s only so much you can do to prevent things from happening entirely, but you got us out of the situation. You literally hoisted me up onto your back with the strength of one arm while holding on for the both of us.” she smiled at me.

“Yeah, I guess Steve’s ridiculous and unreasonable workouts have a reason after all.” I chuckled.

“See?” she smiled.

“And here we are now. Laying in bed, me in your arms, safe and sound. You kept your promise.” she whispered the last sentence, dropping her forehead onto mine.

I closed my eyes inhaling her comforting scent, “Well I’d be a terrible girlfriend if I broke it.” I joked with a grin.

“Yeah, you would.” she teased.

I smiled, lifting my head off the pillow to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. Her soft hands came up to cup my face, mine stayed on her waist and the small of her back.

After all that happened I didn’t want to pull away, ever. I still couldn’t understand why a sweet, gentle girl like her would want to be with someone like me. But if it was what she wanted, then I would happily oblige and keep her safe with me.

“I love you.” she whispered when she pulled away.

My hand came up to caress the side of her face, “I love you more.” I said against her lips.

She laid back down, curling into my side and laying her head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her in a protective manner, planning on falling asleep after I knew she did.

But I still had one thing on my mind.

“You would really marry me with paper rings?” I curiously questioned.

I felt her chuckle, “Of course, Nat.” she responded, I could hear the tiredness in her voice before she let herself start to fall asleep.

“Good to know.”

[fastcardotmp3]

Wheelingham; S4 AU; Outsider POV (Max); Presumed character death (but not real character death); 1.9k Written for @strangerthingsfemslash week day 3: secret relationship read day 1: different first meeting read day 2: women over thirty

Max goes to Nancy first. 

The lights flicker and the cops roll in and one of them is whispering about— The Cunningham girl? She’s probably dead by now. 

So. Max goes to Nancy, partially because at first she thinks she’ll knock out two Wheelers with one stone before she remembers Mike is already on a plane to California, but also because it’s Nancy. 

Because for the entirety of this past school year, Nancy has managed to bulldoze her way over all of Max’s carefully constructed walls and forced her to keep one of them in her life, at the very least. 

She’s a force of nature, Nancy Wheeler, and the first time she showed up at Max’s trailer with dinner on a night her mom was working a double, that had been apparent, but not everything had been. 

Not the reason Nancy was determined to insert herself in Max’s life; not the underlying despair that Max has learned chases that girl from one fight to the next. 

Max goes to Nancy because Nancy knows what to do when the world ends, in more ways than one. Max goes to Nancy, because she doesn’t realize that saying—

“I overheard the cops talking, they think she might be dead.” 

—she’ll be knocking loose the mask of resolve that Nancy puts on with her hair clips each morning, knocking it straight to the floor and stomping on it hard. 

“They think…” She's small, but normally she takes up mountains of space in Max’s life. She’s got this presence to her which Max can barely admit to herself is grounding, but it is. She actually seems small in this moment though. Wound up and tiny. “And you’re sure— did they say Chrissy? Did they say Cunningham? I don’t… I just—”

“That’s what they said,” Max feels like she’s watching something she’s not supposed to, like when she still lived in California and her mom still cared about the ratings on the movies Max rented from the Blockbuster. “And usually I wouldn’t put too much stock in what the Hawkins PD has to say, but… The lights were… I know what lights like that mean.” 

Nancy clenches down on her jaw and something in her eyes shifts and Max has spent a lot of time with this girl in the past six months. 

Long enough to recognize that there’s a lot Nancy doesn’t talk about, even when she’s actively trying to be vulnerable to make Max feel better; long enough, too, to know that just because Nancy is a force of nature doesn’t mean she’s not also still barely eighteen years old. 

Nancy swallows thickly and her fists clench and unclench around the fabric of her skirt until it's wrinkled and Max wants to ask, but before she gets the chance Nancy is steeling herself and sending Max to the car and telling her to radio Dustin to meet them at the Family Video. 

Before Max has a chance to really get a gauge on what’s going on with Nancy at all (because something is going on) she’s being forced to walk through exactly what and who she saw last night four times over on the fifteen minute drive. 

More than anything, Nancy’s haste reminds Max that they’re in it again. It reminds her that none of it was ever over and she was right, in a lot of ways if not all of them, to expect another shoe to drop. 

The problem is that it’s a lot easier to focus on something going on with Nancy than it is to think about the nightmares that have been haunting her since long before she watched Billy die. He’s starred in her nightmares before, but this is different, this is new, this is so entirely old by now. 

No, it’s easier to let the rest of them try to make sense of what’s going on while she watches the looks on Steve and Robin’s faces when they hear the name Chrissy Cunningham. 

They look at Nancy on instinct, without a beat of hesitation. They look at Nancy.

“Chrissy…? Shit, Nance—”

“Don’t,” she snaps, pushing past Steve’s big and welling eyes that clearly know more than Max does to begin typing away at the computer behind the desk. 

He doesn’t let her run from him though, visibly putting himself between Nancy and the rest of them as he speaks just under his breath enough that Max can’t hear him over Dustin’s own plan-making, but can see the way Nancy’s shoulders tense up and her fingers falter across the keys. 

If Max were, say, Dustin, it would look like the kind of sign that the two of them were starting something up again, but Max has broken up and gotten back together with Lucas enough times to recognize that this isn’t that. 

This is its own thing. This is Nancy on the verge of something else Max has been keenly aware of for too much of her young life: a nervous breakdown. 

Nancy Wheeler is terrified, but not in the same way the rest of them are, not because the world might be ending again. Hers is a different sort of terror, only Max can’t place it. She might even be wrong about the whole thing, looking too hard for a distraction from the pulsing ache at the center of her skull, but there’s something about the slices of conversation she catches that tells her otherwise. 

“... might not actually be…”

“... no way for you to know that, Steve…”

“... not the same as…”

“...don’t have time to… need to focus on this…”

But again, too much is happening with too quick a turnaround for Max to really dig in and find the answers to her queries. 

“Eddie wouldn’t hurt someone,” Dustin is saying with the sort of forceful defensiveness of someone who is being put on trial himself rather than defending a friend. “He wouldn’t. Something else killed Chrissy—”

Max’s eyes train in on the shift in Nancy’s posture, the thick swallow she takes as she turns halfway away from all of them like protecting her soft bits from coming blows. 

“ – or probably something,” Dustin insists. “Which means Eddie is in danger too if he was there.”

“Why would Chrissy have even been at Eddie’s trailer?” Robin asks, the question broad enough to seem as though it’s angled at all of them, but Max can see the way she looks at Nancy, the direction she means for it to land. 

Nancy seems to feel it too. 

“They’re friends,” she says without meeting anyone’s gaze, arms crossed and eyes downturned. “Ever since she broke up with Jason, it’s been— hard. At school. And Eddie’s just— he’s been a friend, so…”

“So maybe she’s with him,” Robin says, but it’s less like a suggestion of theory and more like the kind of thing meant to ease nerves, softer around the edges, almost imploring in nature. 

Nancy’s grip around her own biceps is tight enough to make her skin go white, and by the time they have an address for Reefer Rick, any proximity that Max gets to her feels like the air is vibrating at a different, but not unfamiliar, frequency. 

When Max stepped out of Starcourt on that night in July, the air had tasted like ash. When she had sat unblinking and trembling in the back of a parked ambulance, she hadn’t been able to feel Lucas’s hand in her own past the shake of the world around her. 

“She’s your friend?” Max asks, a murmur of a question just for Nancy after having forced her way into the front seat of the station wagon for their trek across town, letting the other three keep themselves occupied in the back. 

Nancy’s lips purse and what Max can only imagine is an involuntary hum chokes its way out of her throat. 

“I was— I shouldn’t have been so blunt about it,” Max says. “About what I overheard the police saying. I should have said it differently, because we don’t even know if she’s really—”

“She is,” Nancy says stiffly, grip tight on the steering wheel as they turn down a path that leads to the lake. “That’s how these things work. She is.” 

Max doesn’t have an argument for that. 

In her experience it’s the truth, the only truth, that the worst case is the actual case. 

It keeps her quiet in the passenger seat until they’re parking, all the way up to Rick’s front door, through Dustin’s incessant knocking, until she notices Nancy wandering towards the boathouse and hurries to follow behind her. 

The door creaks when they open it, windows mucked up with algae and the general wear of time to the point where even the fading light of day doesn’t permeate the space. The floorboards groan under their feet and the lap of water against the bottom of the boat at the center of the room makes the whole thing eerie. 

Eerie and nerve-wracking and bad, the whole thing has their collective adrenaline pumping right up until a number of things are happening at the same time. 

The toss of a tarp, the guttural scream of a man, the pushing and shoving and trapping of Steve up against the wall as the rest of them merely try to keep up and act on their feet and prepare for an attack and—

“Nance?” 

It’s quiet, but it cuts through the chaos. 

It’s quiet, but it seems as though it has physical weight in its effect on Nancy. 

“You’re—?” the sharp choking-off of a question, the near-buckling of knees, something starts to click into place as Nancy seems to move a woman-possessed across the boathouse until she’s got her hands hovering over Chrissy Cunningham’s shoulders, drifting down her arms, searching, searching, searching for— “are you hurt? You’re hurt? You’re— oh my god, are you real?” 

Chrissy’s got what appears to be Eddie’s leather jacket tied up around one of her arms like a sling, the stain of dried blood smudged on her cheekbone just under her eyes, but she smiles as she places her available hand on Nancy’s cheek. 

Wet and nervous, but a smile all the same. 

And things are clicking into place, because Max has broken up with and gotten back together with Lucas quite a few times. 

“Um, some stuff is— is happening and I don’t know how to explain—” Chrissy shakes her head, lifting her gaze to meet Eddie’s as he drops his attack stance from Steve, “but we’re okay. And you’re here now, so, so that’s—”

“They said you were dead,” Nancy blurts, chin wobbling and voice thick and cracking. “They said— I thought you were dead, I thought—”

It’s bold, when Chrissy cuts her off with a firm kiss to the mouth, right there in front of all of them in the middle of the dark. 

It’s bold, but Max sees the fondness on the older kids’ faces, the clarity that they’ve known the whole time. 

It’s bold, but pretty fucking cool, Max thinks. Proof, maybe, that it doesn’t always have to go the other way, that maybe sometimes their people can get through to the other side, scared and hurt but okay. Not lost. Not entirely. Close enough to be found. 

“Wha– Wait, what the–?” Dustin balks, confusion radiating off of him as bright as the sun beside Max, almost blinding in its comical nature. “Did you know about this?” he looks to her, face all twisted up in not knowing something more than actually having a problem with it. 

Max looks at him, looks at the gentle way Chrissy swipes away Nancy’s tears as they press their foreheads close and relish in the finding. 

And then she looks back at Dustin and shrugs. “It was kind of obvious, dumbass.”