#my brother in christ i will be leaving at 3 like it says on my outlook i am not staying 2 bloody hrs longer to sit in a room with u pricks

[eruanna1875]

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD. Once you're given this award, you're supposed to paste it in the ask of eight people who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing happens but it's sweet to know so. I think you're a beautiful person and I will explode anyone who wrongs you with my mind :3

🥹

You are so sweet, my goodness. This ask warmed my heart and absolutely made my evening. 🩷

[phagodyke]

worked an hour extra bc they have no respect for my half day but I knew they were gonna do that so whatever..... at least I'm omw home now

[jadeneppy]

Why do neurotypical people always choose to have important talks when you're checked out or havin a mental breakdown like bro im so overstimulated already why add important talks ontop of it and then get man that ur not all there

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘚𝘌𝘊𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘚, 𝘚𝘌𝘊𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘚 🫀

max verstappen x singer!fem reader // smau

⤷ summary: when max verstappen starts commenting on the posts of the beloved singer y/n l/n, fans are confused and less than enthusiastic at the new friendship. what they could never expect is just how long they've been 'friends'...

based on this request <3

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liked by sabrinacarpenter, maxverstappen1, and 46,908 others

tagged sabrinacarpenter

ynusername my new album is now officially out on all platforms! thank you so so much for all of the love and support, and special thanks to sab for her feature on the song <33 love u bb girl 🫦🫦 now that the album's out, tour next!!! see you all soon!

23,560 comments

user1 THE ALBUM OUT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

user2 i cannot be normal about this i fear

user3 ik her back hurts from CARRYING the music industry on her back 😩

user4 hey so WHO TF IS SO AMERICAN ABOUT?? A LOVE SONG

user5 y/n writing a love song in god's year of 2024... wow

user6 y/n in the top 10 charts, fork found in kitchen

user7 sabrina and y/n are never beating the gf allegations

ynusername damn right we're not 😏

user7 HOLY SHIR HOKY SHIT HOKST SHUT

user8 y/n's in love and it's not with me, hanging myself as we speak

user9 the comment is gonna get reported but so real op

user8 can't a woman hang herself in peace 😣

user10 album's such a banger i had this shit bumpin at my grandmas funeral 🙏🏼 rest in piece nancy 🕊️💪🏻

user11 OH MY GOD???

user12 rest in piece nancy you would've loved make you mine 😔

ynusername oh my god please tell me your joking

user10 sorry queen the grind never stops

ynusername NO SHOT

maxverstappen1 great album! 👍🏼

user13 why does he text like my father 🧍🏻‍♀️

user14 brother eughh

user15 what da hell is a polar bear doin in arlington texas

ynusername thank you max!!!

user16 y/n l/n to redbull in 2025

user17 hellurrrrr who is this man in ur likes y/n

user18 f1 driver!!

user17 Y/N NO ATHELETES PLEAEJEWK 🫵

user18 tour content soon??? i'm sat

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user19 bro looks like he snuck onto earth, get his ass outta here

user20 grammy-award winner, vogue cover model, new york university graduate and Some Fucking Guy

user21 not y'all coming to her defense like the mighty morphin power rangers 💀💀 he's literally a world class athete and she writes pop music

user20 17.172.224.47

user21 IS THAT MY IP ADDRESS??

user20 melinda charleton

user22 IS THAT HIS MOTHER'S NAME!!?1?1!

user20 you want me to do you too???

user22 no we good 😃

user23 ruth bader ginsberg did not die for this

user24 now wtf does this have to do with babe ruth 🤨

user25 WHOOOOO 😧

user24 ... that wasn't right was it

user26 now let's be fr he does NAWT have a chance

user27 have u seen the marble-carved  goddesses these men pull, i fear he does 😔

user28 please no i feel ill

user29 TWO???? OH HELL NAW

user30 two might be pushing it, only one was confirmed

user31 jesus christ

user32 first taylor, now this

user33 yall, all he commented was great album 💀💀 yall are LEAPING to conclusions

user34 what can i say it's an art

user35 i do not see 👁️👄👁️

user36 no like 💀💀 im in your walls

user37 haha max verstappen!! right!!! (theres a sniper at ur location)

user38 omg ur so right 🤩 it is about him (i have a bomb strapped to my chest)

user39 i dont mean to sound stupid, idk who that man is, if i saw him on the streets i wouldnt know a thing 🥱

user40 this is so random too like what 😭

user41 the power of kindness won't work here, i have to throw him off a building

user42 i used to be a max verslsjjwwo lover 🤩 now im just a max verslsjjwwo hater 😔

user43 NURSE 🫵 SHE'S OUT AGAIN

user44 why would u put that into the universe 😧

user45 alright, lets get you to bed grandma

user46 mari stop being delusion and go touch grass 🧍🏻‍♀️

user47 ENOUGHHHH

user48 ain't no way in hell 😭

user49 ik ur feet hurt from all this jumping to conclusions babe

user50 lets leave the parkour to the athletes 😃

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liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 54,789 others

ynusername italy thanks for letting me be inside you (; it was such a lovely show, expect me back asap!!!!

15,267 comments

user51 IT WAS SO GOOD I THNK I BLACKED OUT THE WHOLE TIME THO

user52 oh!

user51 oh so now this isn't a safe space

user53 LANDO AND MAX IN TGE LIKES??? NO NO NO NO

user54 ABORT ABORT ABORT

user55 y'all are doing too much 🙄 she's one of the top artists in the world, i think it's safe to say they might like her music

user56 the second picture 🧎🏻‍♀️do you need a stool cause i can kneel and be really quiet

user57 y/n fans be normal challenge (impossible!!!) (never done before)

user56 WOMP WOMP

maxverstappen1 wonderful show! 🙏🏼 you are so talented

ynusername ty max (: im glad you could come see me

user57 ain't NO WAYYYYYY

user59 THIS IS SIXKENJNG IM GONNA PUKE

sabrinacarpenter my gf looking sexy 🫦🫦🫦

ynusername only for u bbg 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

user60 BOOOO 🗣️ GET A ROOM

user61 do y'all need a third!!!!

user62 mamma mia pizza pasta mozzerella moment

user63 i just put u on a watchlist

user62 🧍🏻‍♀️

landonorris RAHHHHHH 🦅🫵🗣️‼️

ynusername RAHHH RAHHH RAHHH RISE POWER POWER 💪🏻‼️

user63 what the fuck

user64 OH GOD WHAT IF SHES DATING HIM????

ynusername brother eughhhh

landonorris WHAT THE FUCK????

user65 SINCE WHEN IS SHE FRIENDS WITH F1 DRIVERS HOW MANY CHAPTWRS DID I MISS

user66 apparently we all went into a universal coma while she was out galavanting cause idk how else this could've happened

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maxverstappen1 posted to his story!

(caption: beautiful show)

22,456 replies

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user67 someone save my girl bro, she don't know any better 😭

user68 it's like a little kid trying to touch the hot stove, LIKE STOP THAT!! DON'T DO THAT

user69 am i the only one who thinks they'd be cute together....

user70 YES!?!?

user71 there is literally no fucking way he bagged her

user72 losing y/n to european f1 driver would be the biggest american tragedy since 2001

user73 i had to read this shit twice, op what r u waffling abt 🫵����

user74 can't even be nonchalant about this one bro, i'm chalanting hard asf

user75 we do not care

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liked by redbullracing, f1, and 78,567 others

tagged maxverstappen1

ynusername first time in monaco, safe to say i enjoyed myself! so happy to see you shine this time my love<3

25,788 comments

user76 oh. my. fucking. god

user77 THEYRE FUCKING DATING OH MYFODNSJ

user78 THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE HOLDING YOUR HAND THAT SHOULD BE MEEE MAKING YOU LAUGHHH 🎤

user79 i'm in mourning

sabrinacarpenter CHEATER 🫵

ynusername BABY IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE, IT WAS JUST ONE TIME 😣😣😣 IT WAS A MISTAKE

maxverstappen1 we've been dating for 2 years??

sabrinacarpenter SHUT UP FAST & FURIOUS NO ONE ASKED YOU

user80 i'm sorry 😃 two Y EARS

user81 i feel like i just got dumped. y/n don't do this, the kids need you 😔

maxverstappen1 i got p1 for you, i love you 🫶🏼

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hope you all enjoyed! please let me know your thoughts and feel free to leave a request for me to write something for your fav <3

[friedpaolo]

As silly as it may sound, do you have any headcanons for Mr.Chopped?

Mr. Chopped.. such a sweet little guy. <3

Synopsis: general headcanons for Mr. Chopped.

Mr. Chopped is a very clingy creature. In the scenario where you're his lover or someone that he feels comfortable around then prepare to have a serious arm workout because he becomes whiny and persistent about being carried around with you 24/7. He'll complain when you attempt sit him down. His lips curling into a unsatisfactory frown when he feels a hard surface or anything that isn't your arms or hands. "No! Pick up, pick up!" He'll demand, but not in the way where you feel threatened if you don't pick him up. But if you don't then just expect a very petulant response when you finally do pick him back up.

Mr. Chopped loves physical affection. Oh, he becomes the happiest little creature in the world when you show affection towards him. He eats it all up. Kisses, nuzzling. You gave him a bunny kiss once and he hasn't been the same since. Now whenever you see him, he looks at you so expectantly. He'll get especially jealous if he sees you do it to anyone else and will pout about it, claiming that he doesn't want you to pick him up but he's lying and you both know that. Then if you leave him, he accuses you of leaving him when you return. Like, my brother in christ make up your mind, it's the only part of your body that's connected to you!

Mr. Chopped who hates when you go without him or hasn't come to visit him in a while. By a while, the estimate is 2 hours at the most. He highly finds himself attracted to those that help him or aren't hostile towards him. So he undoubtedly begs Mr. Silvair to bring him to to you or find you. He feels a bit bad that it's a hassle for Mr. Silvair in the scenario where you're whereabouts are unknown. But he just really wants to see you and know that another monster hasn't swallowed you whole. "There!" He'll exclaim when he sees you in the distance. It happens so often that it reminds you of ordering food and meeting the delivery man on the porch. Although you're not upset, how can you be when Chopped is practically vibrating from the excitement of being your hands again.

Mr. Chopped loves having his hair styled. It becomes clear when he asks you to take him to see the hair dresser. He loves when you sit his head down on your lap and mess with his hair. Braid it into a single lose braid, comb it, put it in a little bun. The feeling of your fingers combing through his hair relaxes him a lot and he'll request it whenever he's feeling anxious or terrified. Like if another monster captures him and you manage to get him back, it soothes him. Doesn't let you dye his hair, he prefers to keep his orange locks but will ask you to cut it. "Cut!" He'll tell you, you barely even snip anything off before he declares. "Much better!" Like?? a lock of hair the size of a pencil shaving was cut and he claims he's feeling lighter.

Mr. Chopped who probably scares you whenever he uses his hand. Like, the way it would just appear out of nowhere. Sometimes by itself. He has no sense of "what if I scare them?" The mount of times you'd freaked out when you felt something take ahold of your ankle only to realize it's Chopped's way of saying that he wants you to come to him is actually terrific and you have to remind yourself that it's your companion's hand so you don't kick it away or crush it with your crowbar. When he realizes that he'd scared you, he feels very bad and does apologize for it. He doesn't stop, but that makes it more difficult to get your attention when he Mr. Silvair refuses to carry him to you.

11/18/2024 © Friedpaolo. please do not translate, modify or repost any of my work on any platform, or claim any of it as your own.

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 10 - From Makarov With Love

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: Cannon typical violence, death, suicide bomber, it's a war drama what can I say.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

People silently move into positions, they look between each other, their eyes darting between each other. There’s hand signals you’ve seen people use before but you don’t know what any of them mean. Soap grabs your arm pulling you over to the sofa, you turn frowning at him as there’s another knock at the door.

“Hello? I was told to come here. I could really use some help.” A voice calls in Arabic. Price turns to look at you.

“They’re asking for help.” You say, your heart is thumping in your chest. They sound young, you feel sick. Price and Ghost stack up on the door. When it opens there's a boy standing there, he’s older than a boy, a teen maybe 17, 18. He has an Al Qatala headband on. He’s holding his hands up.

Price reaches forward, gripping his arm and pulling him in. Ghost closes the door then lets go of his weapon letting it swing down next to him. His hands run up and down his legs. His eyes are locked on to you, you feel guilt. Maybe you smuggled this guy for Al Qatala, maybe he knows you, you don’t remember everyone.

You doubt it. It doesn’t take long before Ghost’s hands stop. He pulls the coat on the person open. Your breath catches in your throat, you gasp. He’s got a bomb vest on. Ghost backs up.

“Christ.” Soap’s voice is almost angry as he walks past you over to man. You don’t know what to do or what to say. Al Qatala do this, you’ve never seen someone with one on before. You’ve seen them on tables, you’ve smuggled C4 and over explosives for Al Qatala before.

This is real though, now you’re seeing it in person.

“What’s going to happen?” he asks, he sounds scared. You swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“You’re the one with the bomb.” You reply. It’s all you can think to say. Price comes to stand next to you.

“What’s he saying?”

“He wants to know what’s going to happen.” You say looking up at him.

“Soap?” Price calls.

“It’s on a timer, it’s not pretty but it shouldn’t be too hard.” He says he sounds confident. Gaz moves over to help him. You feel sick, you’ve helped cause this. He looks young, he probably had no idea what he was signing up for, like most of the people Al Qatala or the ULF recruit.

“Who sent you?” You ask him. It’s a stupid question but you don’t care, talking keeps you calm, it’ll probably keep him calm too.

“The Butcher. He said it was my time.”

“I thought he was in Russia?” You say, he doesn’t say anything. You take another step towards him trying not to spook him.

“Did you blow up the car?”

“The ULF are traitors!” he snaps putting his arms down.

“Woah woah, eazy.” Soap says as he and Gaz stand back, your eyes flick over to Ghost who still has his weapon trained on him.

“Tell him to keep still.” Price says.

“Keep still or they’ll shoot you.” You say to him. He stops moving, turning to look at Ghost.

“Good then I will take you all with me.”

“We’re not ULF.” You snap at him. He looks back over at you frowning.

“You blew up the base, you’re in a ULF safehouse.”

“This is a ULF safehouse?” You ask, trying to play dumb. He doesn’t say anything, his hands come black up as Soap and Gaz approach him again.

“The ULF killed my father and my brother.” He says, you sigh sympathetically.

“Mine too.” You say. There, that's how they do it. When you’re young and vulnerable looking for someone to blame. You tried to run and leave the country you called home all your life. Some people, the unlucky ones end up like him, scared, following orders they probably don’t even agree with. All they need is the promise of a better afterlife, one where they don’t have to worry about war, the loss of their family, everything is better in Jannah.

In another world you might have ended up like him. Married of to an Al Qatala general helping the cause to take down the people you blame for both your parents death. Maybe it was a good thing you were too scared to stay, war scared you as much as the next person. You weren’t exactly willing to die for a country being torn apart by terrorists.

“What’s going on?” Price asks, leaning in closer to you.

“He was sent by Al Qatala, he thinks we’re ULF. They killed his father. He planted the bomb on the car.” You explain, you feel sorry for him, he thinks killing you is going to bring him and his father piece. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Alone?” Price asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you alone?” You ask him.

“No.” He says, that makes your stomach drop. He’s being watched, someone making sure he completes the job. Making sure there are no lose ends.

“He’s not alone.” You say. You hear Price sigh. You take another step towards him watching Soap and Gaz mutter cutting wires.

“How old are you?”

“17.”

“You look older for your age.” You say, you see a little smile from on his lips.

“I was the tallest boy in my village.” He says.

“I bet you were-”

“Shit.” Soap’s voice cutting through the air makes you stop. He stands up straight looking at the boy before walking over to you and Price.

“I can’t stop it. If I cut anymore it could go off.” Soap says, he looks serious, his face dark eyes sullen. It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this. Price lets out a long sigh.

“Can’t we just take it off him?” You ask.

“It’s hardwired into the clips, pull them and it’ll go off.” Soap says.

“What do we do then?” You ask, you know you’re not going to like the answer.

“I managed to disconnect the shrapnel, when it goes it’ll be contained.” Soap says. When, When it goes. It makes you feel sick. You look back over at him.

“There has to be something you can do?” You ask urgently. You can feel your heart pick up speed.

“We can make sure we survive.” Price says. “How long do we have?”

“Five minutes,” Soap says. You look up at him shaking your head, you can’t believe what you’re hearing. You can’t believe you kissed him.

“What do I tell him?” You ask Price as Soap goes over to Ghost.

“Tell him he’s going to be okay.” Price says darkly. You look at the boy, he’s frowning watching Soap and Ghost talk.

“He’s just a kid.” You whisper, you don’t mean for Price to hear you just hate it. You hate what’s happening right now.

“They always are.” He breathes, crossing his arms.

“Are you sure they know what they’re doing?” He asks.

“Of course, they’re experts.” You say, you force a smile. He nods the frown leaving his face. You can’t see the timer from here. Soap said 5 minutes, you’re trying to count in your head.

“Where are you from?” You ask him.

“Sakhra. What about you?”

“A little town in the south, it was destroyed when the fighting started.” You say swallowing the tears back. You need to keep your cool. You watch as Ghost moves ever so slightly, his weapon dipped in his arms. Soap opens the front door.

“What’s going on?” He asks, suddenly straightening up.

“Nothing, it’s going to be okay.” You lie, why does lying come so easily even now. You’re not sure how long is left, you stopped trying to count. Soap and Ghost move, getting into position to pull him out the door and leave him out their until the inevitable happens.

It’s cold and calculated, self preservation. He would be dead anyway, at least this way only he will get hurt. You hope there's an afterlife, Jannah or heaven, even just some kind of limbo, you hope he can see his father again.

You see Soap nod. It happens fast. Gaz steps out the way and Soap grabs him from behind. You don’t mean for a yelp to leave your throat as his screams breaks the silence in the air. You feel Price grab your arm pulling you across the room and into the kitchen. You stumble letting him pull you, pushing you behind a wall, Gaz joins you next.

You can hear him shouting, shouting for help, banging on the door that has been locked in his face.

Soap and Ghost come round the corner next. There’s a few seconds of silence then an explosion. It shakes the house, the smell of gunpowder and sulfur fills the air. Everyone walks out the kitchen. You take a second to collect yourself. Price letting go of his tight grip on your arm.

When you make it out the front door has been blown open and the window smashed in. There’s surprisingly still a body, you can’t look at it for too long.

You feel ill, he was just a kid, 17 years old. You never even asked his name.

…

You’re laid in bed staring up at the ceiling of the house. After what happened no one had the stomach to eat. Ghost and Gaz cleaned up the body, putting it in the shed. You wanted to bury it but Price said it was a waste of time, he promised the ULF would come by and deal with it. You didn’t believe him.

You were worried someone was watching the house but after Price and Soap did a sweep of the area he’s convinced whoever was watching had gone. Regardless he still said someone should be on guard just in case. He didn’t try talking about his plan to go to Russia again, he just ordered everyone to get some rest.

You can’t sleep though, your mind is plagued, you can’t get his shouting out of your head. You just threw him out in the cold to die. He must have been terrified. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe you’re not built for this type of job. Soldiers kill people, so do the ULF and Al Qatala, maybe you wouldn't mind being stuck in a war room right now. It’s easier to hear about these things then witness them first hand.

You get out of bed, you can’t sleep. You might as well see if Price is still awake, maybe he’ll let you keep watch and then he can get some rest. Besides he probably sleeps better after these kind of things then you.

When you make it out into the hall every door but the bathroom is closed, you can hear snoring coming through one of them. At least someone is sleeping. You make it down the stairs and see Price leaning back on the sofa with a bottle of something on the table and a half filled glass. He doesn’t have a hat on, he’s almost always wearing one. He watches you walk and sit next to him on the sofa.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks. You lean back, shaking your head. “Want one?” He asks leaning forward to pick up his glass.

“I don’t drink.” You say, he hums finishing his glass and putting it back down on the table.

“You should get some sleep. I can keep watch.” You say pulling your legs up onto the sofa.

“It’s okay, we’ll be leaving in a few hours anyway. You look over at the window you helped Soap board up with some wood you found out back. There’s a chill in the building now.

“Do you still plan on going to Russia?” You ask. He nods.

“We have intel Jamal and Khaled are still in Volgograd.”

“How?” You ask frowning.

“CIA contact, they were able to do some snooping for us.”

“What about Al Qatala?”

“They’re still moving south, it looks like they’re going to be targeting ULF bases, Farah and Alex will have their hands full.” Price says as he reaches over to refill his glass.

“How did they know we were going to attack the base, they blew the car and sent a suicide bomber after us.” You say. He sighs again bringing the glass to his lips.

“Konni has more info than we think. Makarov is normally smarter, this isn’t like him.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Sending Al Qatala after us, something’s changed. Why Al Qatala and not Konni, people he trusts. He’s desperate.” He talks sounds like he’s talking to himself a stream of unbroken thoughts, you almost don’t want to interrupt him.

“Or maybe he just really wants you dead.” You sigh.

“Then he would have done a better job.” He looks over at you.

“You did good today.” He says, you shake your head looking away.

“I wish we could have saved him.”

“We can’t save everyone.” He finishes his drink off, putting the glass back on the table. “A Lot of the time it's us or them, we don’t always have the luxury of a choice.”

“So I guess you still want me and Soap to go back to Farah tomorrow.” You ask changing the subject. He nods. “We’ll be in contact let you know when you should come up.”

You don't say anything turning away and looking back over at the stairs, you’re not in the mood to fight with him.

“If you’re still willing to work with us?” He asks, you turn back to look at him. He's got blue eyes like Soap, his look darker, the circles under them deeper. You nod, he smiles, his hand comes to lay on your thigh. You freeze at the contact, his hand is warm, he squeezes it then gets up.

“You should try and get some rest, you have a long trip tomorrow.”

“So do you.” You say swallowing the saliva that’s built up in your mouth. You can feel heat rushing to your cheeks, he smiles at you then heads into the kitchen. You close your eyes, squeezing the bridge of your nose. You’re emotional, you’ve had a long day. There’s no way you’re crushing on Price too.

Next

Banners by plum98

[nickeverdeen]

hello! I really enjoy reading ur work, so I’m wondering if I could request a TUA (the umbrella academy) preference where the reader confesses their feelings during an argument (they aren’t dating yet) no pressure ofc <3 thank u sm for being a good writer!!

Thanks for requesting!!! And thanks for those words, I might be slower at writing considering I have school tests everyday, well I mean I’m in law school so what was I expecting-

Anyway, thanks a lot for everything 🫶

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Confessing your feelings to Umbrella Academy members during an argument

————————————————————

TW: Cussing, mention of injury, drugs, sometimes cliché

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You = white text

Luther = blue text

Diego = red text

Allison = pink text

Klaus = orange text

Five = green text

Ben = also green text, but cursive (‘cause I’m running out of colors)

Viktor = purple text

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Luther Hargreeves

This takes place in season 1

The argument was pretty simple

You just wanted him to shut up for like 5 seconds about the moon and stop defending Reginald and digging into his death

You two were currently standing in the “meeting room” in the Umbrella Academy along with others discussing how Reginald died. Sure you weren’t part of this family, but you were invited anyway. Why you had no idea, maybe ‘cause you were a family friend?

“Jesus Christ Luther, stop digging into it so much. It was a heartattack, calm down” you rolled your eyes sighing as you agreed along with others that Reginald died of a heart attack.

“Oh so you’re on their side now? Even my best friend, great” he chuckled at the irony rolling his eyes. “Well I wonder why” Diego sneered. Soon the whole room started arguing about it, you’ve had enough of this. They were adults so they should act like it

Standing up from your seat you shook your head whistling which only caught Viktor’s and Allison’s attention… not what you wanted.

“Shut the fuck up!” You finally yelled and they all grew silent except for Diego who insulted his brother and you before storming off. “We’re all adults yet you all act like kids. Get your shit together” you sighed frustrated.

With that Luther got up and took few steps towards you “You don’t have a say in this. Dad was murdured, and last time I checked I was on the Moon to-“ Luther started but got cut off by you

“Luther, for the love of god, as much as I love you, shut up about the Moon and stop defending him” You rolled your eyes making Viktor raise his eyebrows suprised

Luther stood there kidna offended at first before realizing what you said “Wait what?” You just cussed under your breath. This is gonna be a long day.

At first Allison was kidna jealous for sure, but slowly joined Klaus with sometimes teasing you. You had a lot of explaining to do.

Diego Hargreeves

This takes place in season 2

Along woth others you had enough of Diego thinking about J. F. Keneddy 24/7

It was another night at Elliot’s and here you were, sitting in a corner across the room from Diego with Five between the two of you. You all were watching a tape Hazel gave Five before dying, a man on a grassfield was standing there when the president is getting shot.

To be honest you rightfully along with Lila who was sitting near you had no idea who this is unlike the two boys who seemed shocked at it

“Uh guys? Wanna also tell us who that is?” You asked awkwardly with Lila nodding slightly only to hear a whisper “dad” escape their mouths at the same time.

“Do you see this? That’s dad and he is the one who killed the president” Diego turned to you with a serious expression “Oh here we go” You rolled your eyes crossing your arms. “How can you know for sure that it was him? It doesn’t look like he’s holding a gun” you just shrugged leaving Diego frowning

“Do you even listen to me? That’s a proof that he is the killer!” Diego stood up pacing around the room

“And you know that how? He-“ you get cut off as he looks at you sharply, if you didn’t know him you’d think he’s crazy

“Take it easy, Diego” Five said calmly trying to ease the situation, but of course it didn’t help. “He is the killer! Don’t you hear me?! The evidence is right here!” Diego yells at you pointing at the tape

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you don’t wanna tell me that I fell for a madman” You scoffed crossing your arms taking a step towards him and he took a small step back as he processed what you said

“Well that’s an awkward silence” Lila said chuckling slightly, but none of you spoke until Five told you both that there’s no time for these things right now and you both followed him out to wherever you guys are going

“We’re not done with this conversation” Diego said, but not so agressively, more calmly yet of course not softly as it ain’t in his nature.

Allison Hargreeves

This takes place in season 3

You were starting to get really annoyed with her, but when you caught her trying to rumor herself in the mirror to be happy you couldn’t be angry or upset with her at that moment

You and other Hargreeves siblings were just miding your own businesses, but you did notice that Allison was missing. At first you didn’t make a big deal out of it, she was being really annoying, but still that didn’t mean that you didn’t care about her. You were on this crazy Hargreeves rollecoster since the very beggining and they were all very dear to you.

So here you were looking through the whole hotel for her, you were starting to give up before you heard a glass break in the bathroom.

Slowly you stepped in and that’s when you witnessed it. “I heard a rumor that you were happy” Allison said trying to rumor herself through the mirror you weren’t sure if it’d work, but you sure as hell were concerned by now, you were aware that she had a hard time, but this was really bad.

“Allison?” You stepped in properly after seeing that it doesn’t work

Allison slightly jumped at the sudden voice, she didn’t need to turn around to know that it’s you “What do you want?”

Her words were sharp, but you tried to ignore the feeling and took few steps closer, your eyes inspecting her bloody hand from the distance. “Are you okay…?” You asked slowly unsure if she wants to open up

She just scoffed rolling her eyes as she faced you “Since when do you care?” You didn’t like this defensive side of her, but you knew that loving her means loving her even at her worst

“I always cared, Al-“ getting cut off Allison stood up properly frowning “No you didn’t. You don’t care that Claire’s dead, you don’t care that both my husbands are dead! You don’t care at all!”

She shouted obviously getting irritated by your words even though they were honest. “Allison that’s not true!” You tried to argue back “I care about you and mainly your wellbeing! You need help-“ “I don’t need help! Now get out!” She cut you off once again taking few steps towards you, but you didn’t really take any steps back and stood your ground

“Yes you do! You’re even rumoring yourself to be happy! You’re not alright at all!” You took a deep breath taking few steps towards her as well “Just let me help you!” You looked up at her, but she wasn’t calming down any time soon and you knew that. “And why would you want that?! To impress others with your comforting skills?! Make me feel even worse?!”

She shouted, she knew damn well that she doesn’t mean it and knew that she’s being a bitch right now, but she couldn’t stop. She was hiding her pain and anger deep down inside of her for too long and even though she didn’t want to, she just had to let it out on you. Not ‘cause she wanted to, but ‘cause you were closest and she knew you’d forgive her overtime, plus you understood her and she just had to let everything out despite knowing it’s not heathly for neither of you.

“No! Of course not! Allison I love you and don’t want you to suffer! Please…”

You were more calm at the end, but got confused when she shut up and just stared at you in shock before it hit you that you just confessed

“What?” She asked blinking in confusion, but also a neutral voice “Allison… I love you” you repeated making sure she knows you don’t mean just as friends

“Please don’t… I’ll just lose you too. Stop” she mumbled shaking her head, she couldn’t take another loss

“You won’t lose me” you stood up on your tip-toes and kissed her just shortly and slightly of course, you didn’t wanna scare her. “Now let me help you with your hand” you took her bloody hand and started tending it knowing that Allison isn’t ready for a relationship just yet so you didn’t expect her to say it back right now, but you knew that she did love you.

Klaus Hargreeves

This takes place in season 1

You catch Klaus stealing in the Academy from his father on the funeral day

“Klaus? Wha- what are you doing?” You laughed seeing him under his father’s table where Reginald kept all his work

“Oh Y/N! How nice it is to see youuuuu” He sounded high and he probably was, but then again he had every reason to get high, but that doesn’t mean you approved of it

Klaus quickly reached for a hug which you with a sigh accepted “Klaus you’re high again” you crossed your arms rolling your eyes. “We talked about this”

“But those bitches are everywhere and it’s just so much better” he smiled amd you had to chuckle at his silliness “Give me the drugs” you held out your hand raising eyebrows “Oh you want it too????”

He asked and gave it to you and you just threw it out of the window “What’re you doing?!” He exclaimed with wide eyes “Helping you. Now go wash your face.”

You said clearly pissed off by his behaivor “Y/n! I need those!!!” He whined making you roll your eyes “No, you don’t. You need therapy, along with this whole family of yours” you stated clearly

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…” He whined “You don’t understand what I’m going through when I’m clean!” He suddenly yelled at you making you raise your eyebrows

“No Klaus, you don’t understand what I’m going through when I see the man I love somewhere begging for drugs instead of trying to get a real help!”

You argued back, but he stopped “What?”

Five Hargreeves

This takes place in season 3

You both didn’t pick the same side when Reginald asked you all who’s for saving the world and who’s against it - you voted for saving the world while he didn’t

“Are you serious?” You looked at Five frowning confused as he stood on the other side. “Five, after all this time of trying to save the world you’re just gonna give up on the only chance we have ‘cause your older you told you so?”

You scoffed shaking your head and he frowned stepping closer to you “Y/N I am doing the right thing. Right, we’ve been trying to save the world this whole time and did we manage to change something? Nein! It’s over and over the same” Five frowned stepping closer to you

Unaware of the small distance between you two you stepped closer too and looked down at him “I’m not just gonna sit here and wait for the world to end with a boy I fell for and see him die. Five just come on and try this! One more time”

You sighed and tried to plea him, but to no vail as he didn’t budge “”Boy I love”? Please don’t bring that cocky shit-” “Maybe we should all calm down, alright?” Viktor tried to diescelate the situation, but failed as you and Five ignored him and kept arguing.

“You think you’re always right, hm? You are a child, you-” However you cut him off with a sneer “A child? That’s rich coming from you” Five took a deep breath and looked up at you his height making it impossible for him to look you straight in the eyes without looking up. “Y/N I love you, but you’re starting to seriously piss me off-“ He shut up as you all realized that another wave of Kugablitz is coming and had to run. Sure you two were gonna have to sort things out

Ben Hargreeves

This takes place in season 2

He got angry ‘cause you keep diapproving of him possesing Klaus’ body

(Btw Y/N can see Ben here)

“Am I talking to Ben or Klaus?” You asked annoyed not seeing Ben anywhere so you just assumed that he posessed Klaus’ body which was sitting on the floor

“Hey Y/N! It’s Ben! God I’m so glad you came I couldn’t find you at the courtyard” he got up and hugged you tightly, but you could still feel that it’s Klaus’ body which wasn’t ideal at all. You didn’t like it and you were over this conversation many times

“Ben… you do realize that I can see you just like Klaus can, right?” You sighed shaking your head in disapproval “But it’s not the same! In a body-“ he starts but you just cut him off

“In any body I can’t see you, but the person whose body it is, Ben” you sighed shaking your head “But Y/N, you don’t understand… being ghost.. it’s as if I’m nothing” He took few steps closer to you, but you just backed up

“Y/N, please just listen… you don’t know what it’s like!” Suddenly he snaps. That’s very out of character of him. “God, Ben. You don’t get it do you?! I don’t love the body you are in, I love you when you’re yourself, Ben!”

You shook your head frowning and andead silence falls in the room and you soon hear him parting from Klaus’ body

“Aw man, I feel like I’ll throw up” Klaus moans and backs up. You ignore him whimpering and just focus on Ben who’s too stunned to speak.

It’s gonna be a long day…

Viktor Hargreeves

This takes place in season 2

Y/N is helping Five look for others so they’d get them all to the suitcase in time, but Viktor insists to go back for Sissy and Harlan

You kept driving around couple of blocks looking for your best friend - Viktor - literally everywhere

Driving on a road leading away from Sissy’s farm you were slowly losing all hope, but for Viktor’s sake and your mental stability’s sake you kept going, you had to find him.

Driving away you saw another car passing by you and Viktor in it. Immediately you stopped in a way that your car - well a stolen car that you claim to be yours - died. Viktor on the other hand stopped slowly

“Viktor? Thank God, where were you?!” You were quick to hug him before he even had a chance to get out of the car properly

“Jesus! Y/N what are you doing here?” Obviously strandled a bit Viktor pulled away and rubbed your shoulder a bit “What’s going on?”

“Five found a way to get back home! No apocalypse or anything like that, we can go back!” You quickly explained and started walking towards your car, but stopped when you realized he wasn’t following “Viktor?” He shifted in his place thinking “I hate to tell you this, but we only have fifteen minutes-“ you started, but he cut you off

“I’m taking Sissy and Harlan” Viktor practically stated “What? Viktor you can’t do that, their disappearance could have major concequences” you shook your head looking back at your watch. 13 minutes.

“What consequences would it create if we’d just take a farm boy and woman with us?” Viktor obviously had enough and he headed back to his car “We don’t have time for that Viktor!” You pulled him by his arm back and he only snatched it away “Viktor don’t” you warned him shaking your head, true you don’t have powers, but he doesn’t have to know that

“What’s so wrong about this? I love Sissy and am not leaving her!” You knew he did. He loves Sissy, but you kidna were in denial. “What?” He looked at you still angry, but more confused now that you’re silent. 2 minutes.

“Sissy isn’t the only one who loves you, you idiot” you said and got into your car, but Viktor stopped you by your hand

“What?”

[buzzcutlip]

hiiii! can I get a request for lip with a shy!reader where they like know each other from school but it’s like later seasons lip like working at the shop or the construction job and she starts to develop a crush on him but he doesn’t think he’s good enough for her so he distances himself and dates other girls and she has to watch from the sidelines until a guy asks her out so she goes for it and lip gets jealous and realizes his feelings. i’m in an angsty pining jealousy mood but with a happy ending still if that makes sense! but honestly feel free to run with it if it’s something you’re interested in writing bc I love your writing! 💗💗

Hi anon! I love this prompt, thank you very much for sending it my way! <3

This is a very first time I'm writing something with our dear boy Lip Gallagher, and I hope I'm not messing it all up.

Lip Gallagher/Fem!Reader Mature 1561 words

You admired Lip Gallagher. He was smart, intelligent, witty, and—alive. Despite the , he made it to college. You didn’t know the details but heard people talking about those nasty Gallaghers. You saw him take his little brother, Liam, to classes, to your study group. The little boy living temporarily in a dormitory made you sick with worry, but it was obvious that Lip took great care of him. You mostly felt for Lip—that he, as young as he was, had to take on his parents' responsibilities. And still, he did so great at school and had two jobs on top of it. He went home for weekends to help around the house. But that life sucked him back in, never giving him a solid chance, as much as Lip fought for it. He left the school, left the crime scene behind, and left an empty space in your chest. You never told him how you felt. Never wanted to, anyway.

Occasionally, you still meet each other at parties he gets invited to—or invites himself to—and you chat easily, sharing a drink or two. You’re happy to see him, to hear about his crazy jobs. Sometimes he brings a girl along and you smile politely at her, shake her hand. The whole school knew about Amanda and Mrs. Robinson. Besides wanting to protect yourself, you don’t believe Lip could ever want more than friendship from you, which makes interacting with him easier. ‘Cause you’re not trying for anything with him. He’s just a good bad boy. Who cares if you’ve had a crush on him since day one?

So what you expect from Lip when you introduce him to your date, Jacob, at one of these lame parties is that he shakes his hand and says hi politely. Which doesn’t happen; he just grumbles something and leaves for the kitchen. You roll your eyes and tell Jacob not to mind. Inside, you’re a bit embarrassed and disappointed. Why? You’re not sure. Maybe because Jacob’s a bit boring and you still keep seeing him. Letting him kiss you and put his fingers in your pussy and never do anything back. Because he doesn’t attract you. “But he’s nice,” your friends say. You say, for Christ’s sake! He is nice but oh so boring. You don’t feel anything, but you don’t want to be alone anymore. And most importantly, you don’t want to think about Lip when you masturbate, when Jacob fingers you, when boys half-heartedly fucked you in the past.

But as much as you want to forget Lip, you see him again. It’s a bar this time. Filled to the brim with a Friday crowd.

“Hey,” someone says behind you, laying a hand on your shoulder, and you know it’s him before you turn around. You smile at him, sucking on a colorful paper straw.

“You still drink that? Rum and Coke?”

“Yeah,” you laugh shortly, looking at the dark brown drink in your hands. “Spiced rum!” you clarify.

Lip leans closer to you, the sudden proximity doing things to you, as always, and you have to bite your bottom lip.

“Is your boyfriend here?” he asks casually, but you noticed him scanning the crowd just a few seconds ago.

“Yeah… Jacob’s here—but he’s not my boyfriend. We’ve been just—seeing each other for a bit.” You don’t want to talk about Jacob with Lip and it’s clear in the way you talk. You’re more focused on your elbows touching on the bartop.

Lip just laughs shortly, doesn’t say anything. It irks you. You frown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lip shrugs, drumming his fingers on the wooden desk stained with beer and sweet, sticky liquor. He’s lost some of the baby fat in his face. You notice the sharpness of his cheekbones. He tilts his face downward as he blinks at you.

“You never had a boyfriend at school.” He probably wants to say "When I was at school" but that doesn’t interest you that much now.

“So what?” You grow even more irritated by his questions. Why does he care? You never discussed boyfriends, or his girlfriends, for that matter.

You turn your head away, grimacing, but Lip, on the other side, seems entertained. Intrigued.

“Nothing,” he says, smirking stupidly, and doesn’t stop looking at you. “You’re pretty when you pout.”

Your whole face flushes in an instant. Lip never talked like this to you. Never flirted. Of course, at the beginning, you had been disappointed, but you quickly decided that mutual respect for friendship is much better. Safer.

Unsure of what you’re going to say, you tilt your face back to him, but when you look at Lip, he’s not smirking anymore. He reaches for you, hand catching your burning face, his thumb sweeping over your cheek.

It takes you a moment to bat his hand away. “What’re you doing?” you ask, horrified. And shocked. Flustered with your shyness.

Lip shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he mumbles while you’re looking around, all wild, to check for Jacob.

This time it’s Lip who frowns. “You said he was not your boyfriend.”

“Are you, like, jealous or something?” you say only to say SOMETHING, head shaking in disbelief. The silence that follows almost shocks you. You never thought about what you would do if Lip felt the same about you. Never dared to think about that scenario.

Scared to find out what you’ll find out, you peer at him. His face is serious, jaw tense.

“Oh my god, you—you’re jealous,” you whisper, hand going to your mouth to cover it. Your expression must be hilarious—eyes wide, mouth open in disbelief. Lip starts fidgeting with the paper coaster on the bar, eyes flicking all over the room.

Angry tears begin to cloud your vision. “You have no right to be jealous now,” you seethe. “Have you only noticed me now? When I’m seeing someone?” The hurt is unmistakable in your voice. You ball your hands into fists, blinking against the tears welling in your eyes. When Lip doesn’t say anything, you turn on your heel. If you don’t get some fresh air now, you’re going to suffocate.

Once outside, you find a quieter spot away from the smoking people, propping against a wooden table. When you look up you wish you could see stars in the night sky. But the light pollution’s making it impossible. Sighing, you wrap your arms around yourself to protect yourself from the chill. You’re glad that Jacob knows people here too, otherwise you would probably feel bad for leaving him.

Before you get a chance to really sort your feelings, you see Lip approaching you in your peripheral vision.

You sigh, defeated, making a point of not looking at him as he stops a mere foot from you. You’re terrible at confrontations.

“You mad?” Lip asks, and you can feel him studying your face. There’s a cigarette burning between his fingers.

You shake your head. No.

Next, Lip shrugs off his hoodie, cigarette held between his pouting lips, and drapes the garment, warmed by his own body heat, over your shoulders. “Here.”

Suddenly, you’re enveloped in Lip Gallagher. In the smell of tobacco, laundry detergent, and boy. You close your eyes tight against the feeling that’s surfacing from within you. It’s spreading like wildfire, and when Lip steps in front of you, reaching to move the zipper up, up, up, the heat reaches your face, pinks up your cheeks.

Lip leans into you, putting both your bodies into contact, thighs to chests. He slides one of his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, right where your hand’s hiding too, and twines your fingers together. Then he rubs his cheek against your own, as you meet in the middle, and your heart stops. You didn’t know Lip would be like this. That brash, cocky Lip Gallagher with a womanizer reputation treating you with such tenderness.

But you don’t want to end up as a notch on his bedpost.

“I don’t think I’m your type,” you say simply, looking at the ground, hoping that’s enough for him to let it go. To let you go. Even though deep down, it’s the last thing you wish for. You don’t want Lip to let you go. You want him to do the exact opposite.

Lip scoffs, closer to your ear than you expected, making you jump. “And what’s my type?”

“I mean—” you swallow hard, finding the courage to say the next words, as nonchalantly as possible, “I’m from a functional family. I don’t use drugs, I don’t deal drugs. I’m pretty sure I don’t have any personality disorders,” you list.

“Wow, so you’ve done research on me, huh?” Lip asks drily but he doesn’t move, stays close to you.

You decide to come out with the truth. “You know, I had a crush on you at school, and I think I was not as subtle as I thought I was. I mean, most of my friends knew about it.”

Licking his lips, he says,“I always thought you were cute. I was just—”

You're not letting him off that easy. “Busy fucking through the entire school?”

“I didn’t think it was a good idea to make a move.”

“Why do you think it’s a good idea now?”

“Because I can’t stay away from you anymore.”

[artdcnaldson]

patricks sister au has me in a tizzy hes so mean my pussy is sopping wet but what if he got meaner - what if he started dating someone just to get the message across. kisses her where you can see and acts all boyfriendy. what he doesn't know is that ur certifiably insane and purposely crash dates he has with her under the guise of 'i need a ride home.' and 'i need help with homework.' art knows what you're doing, isn't impressed by it.

but one day his girlfriend takes it upon herself to snap at you - maybe you're at a party and this time its not a ploy - you really do just want to go home - and you come up to art and his girlfriend rolls her eyes like, "jesus, here comes your fucking fan club, art." looks at you like, "you know you're annoying right. that everyone knows you have a crush on him? take a fucking hint. he. doesn't. want. you."

and you get tears in your eyes, bottom lip wobbling.... you run off so you dont see the absolute look of rage that flits over arts face. the way he becomes a wall of ice. if he was mean to you the cold way he turns to his girlfriend and promptly dumps her in front of everyone is downright evil.

of course he has to come find you ☹️ and he has to say sorry ☹️ and maybe you'll forgive him and leave him alone if he tells you really truly honestly...... that he doesn't want you. and if he cant say that...... then at least, cant he be your first kiss? please? you'll milk more tears out if you have to.

GODDDD <3

It’s so obvious what you’re doing. But maybe he shouldn’t have his dates on campus, shouldn’t bring his girlfriend to parties he knows you’re going to be at. It’s like he’s asking for you to do it.

And yeah the past excuses have been total bullshit. They were so weak, not even convincing, but you could always count on Art to walk you back to your dorm with his girlfriend in tow. He stops at your door, she lingers behind, and you smile all pretty and thank him.

Alone in your room, you wonder if he’s going to take her back to his dorm to fuck her. You’ve seen the way he kisses her— sweet and gentle, the way boyfriends kiss. You wonder what it’s like when they fuck— if he keeps that same sweet, doting facade on when he’s fucking into her cunt.

Probably. Art’s sweet, he’s respectable. You’re the only one who brings out the fire in him in your brother’s absence. It must be boring when they fuck. Missionary, cowgirl, doggy when he’s feeling adventurous.

You’d never be boring for him, never let things get stale. You don’t even know why he likes her, why he wastes his time. Sure, she’s pretty, she’s… an English major? Whatever.

So the next time you’re at a party and you come up to Art, they figure it’s just jealousy. That you’re just trying to break them apart. Again.

Your DD left with a polisci major, you were drunk and ready to leave. Two hours of watching Art and his fucking girlfriend suck face and grind to shitty music had left a sour taste in your mouth. You just wanted to be home in your bed already.

So you walked up to the two of them nursing beers in a group. She rolled her eyes at the sight of you, whispered something to one of her friends. You ignored her, tugged on Art’s arm.

“Can you walk me back to my dorm, please?”

It’s supposed to be earnest, it is earnest. But Art can’t get a word in before She interrupts.

“Jesus Christ. This whole thing you’re doing isn’t cute anymore. It’s just really fucking annoying, and we’re all fucking sick of it. Find someone else to throw yourself over and leave Art alone. You’re just embarrassing him at this point.”

You try to be a Big Girl about it, to say something back, but all you can manage is a weak I’m sorry before you’re leaving with hot tears streaking your cheeks and a nauseous pit in your stomach.

You don’t hear about the aftermath until later— whispers from a friend, really. Art had laid in on her after what she said. Called her things you’d never heard him say, that you couldn’t even imagine. Calling her a fucking cunt, telling her to mind her own fucking business and keep her fucking mouth shut about you. Shoved her off of him, told her to lose his fucking number.

But you didn’t know that. All you knew was barely five minutes after you had walked into the door and crawled into bed, there was a knock on the door.

You groaned, opened the door with teary, smeared makeup and a weak frown. Because seeing Art just makes it worse.

“I’m sorry Art, I never meant to embarrass you, and I know I’ve been horrible and awful and I’ve made you do awful things, and i don’t know when to just give up and it’s not fair to you.” He walks with you into the room, shuts the door and pulls you against his chest.

He smells like cigarettes and weed and beer and his girlfriend’s perfume. It makes you cry harder. “I’m really sorry, Art. I’ll leave you alone, I promise. I’ll tell Patrick to let you off the hook, and you won’t have to see me anymore.”

He pets your hair, leans back and wipes your tears with soft brushes of his thumbs along your cheeks. “You really don’t want me?” You ask weakly. “Not even a little bit?”

He swallows hard, because he doesn’t want to lie to you. Not tonight, not when you’re already feeling so bad. But what the two of you have isn’t healthy, it’s not what you need.

You sniffle, nod. “Will you just kiss me, then? Once? Please?”

His lips meet yours gently at first, with all the sweetness you’d expected from him, the same kind of kisses he’d give a girlfriend. You feel his tongue brush against yours and moan into his mouth.

It’s short— way too short— but you lean back with your lips tasting like him and that’s all your heart can handle for the night. Really it is.

“You should go,” you say finally, blinking away your tears and wiping at your eyes. “Really, I, uh, I have plans tomorrow, so—“

You don’t have plans, none at all. But he nods, kisses your forehead once.

When you’re in bed, you open your phone, text Art. I’m really sorry. You lock it and try to sleep.

[queerfortress2]

Hello!

May I request any number of mercs you’d like to write for helping a S/O who is getting burnt out from work/school/general busy life stuff?

I’m having the worst burnout right now and it stinks :/

If I had any preference…any of these: Medic, Engie, Scout, Spy

You can write for one, you can write for all of them, whatever you would like to do.

I’m a woman and use she/her but you can make this gender neutral so non-female folks can also enjoy, whichever you’d like!

Hope you’re well, and thank you <3

an engie request finally you don’t understand — mod engie

GN!READER X MEDIC + ENGINEER + SCOUT + SPY (SEPARATE)

MEDIC

my brother in christ he is ALSO working. 2fort’s best paper pusher right there.

if you see work pile up he wouldn’t be opposed to helping you if you ignore is own work piling up. he doesn’t mind it really, as much as he says he doesn’t get burnt out he absolutely does and completely understands.

also taking you out of a work environment !! separate yourself from work for a little while, it’ll make you feel a lot better. he would take you somewhere nice if he wasn’t banned for 99% of public spaces, but does his best with what he has. you can walk around town together or he’ll invite you to his private quarters for you to relax with him and his Unusual Amount of Doves.

he’s also huge he’s practically a living weighted blanket. he isn’t exactly one to lay down and cuddle for hours but he can give you physical comfort before he finds himself distracted by something else in the room. you WILL have to listen to his crazy side rants if you spend time with him.

over all i think he’s more work oriented, so i think he’s more focused on “getting it all done” than “girl fuck your work we’ll go out on the town”

ENGINEER

paper pusher number two

he saw it happening before you did and probably dragged you out of the workshop before it got too serious. in the most non-creepy way possible he finds himself observing you frequently when you work together (or just in the same area) and will run checks on you frequently. need water? don’t worry about it, got a mini fridge right there for you— hey would you be a darling and pass the beer over too? thanks.

hospitality is his deal, even if you’re dating he finds himself treating you like a guest. you get the top priority. ignore his constant working and hypocrisy and he’s like a mini nurse.

also also probably does the work for you while he distracts you with something else. he doesn’t mean to be untruthful but.. while you nap he might’ve finished up a bit of your work and just told you that you did it but you were so tired you didn’t remember. HE JUST WANTS THE BEST FOR YOU

celebration too! he can actually go places, he takes you to a nice little diner and has dinner with you. he’s wearing his stupid little plaid shirt and jeans to dress nice and is TOTALLY playing but off like he’s the prettiest boy at the party. (he is) he even does the slick back hair motion on his hardhat (or very bald head). i want his dead /pos.

SCOUT

brother doesn’t know what he’s doing. he is one of the WORST at trying to help you get work done. he honestly just tells you to forget about it and you both just leave to go run about the base for a bit. a good jog never hurt anyone, i guess. (pauling is drowning in work)

he’s irresponsible so don’t trust him to help you either, he’ll forget about it and get distracted with something else entirely. but it’s the thought that counts! he’s also illiterate so that’s probably a problem with homework or just filing pages…

he also doesn’t take no for an answer, if you shove him off he’s just gonna keep pestering you, or if you’re small enough? just GRAB YOU. you’re leaving that desk whether you like it or NOT. you’re gonna go— as the kids say— “touch grass.” it’s gonna happen.

on the bright side, you’re never bored, he’s extremely entertaining. even if it gives you guys weird looks out in public, at least you aren’t frowning! you’re just having a good time.

if anything you’re going to get a good break, but when you get back that work is still going to be there, that’s a guarantee.

[kissitbttr]

Ok, imagine Miguel and Glen just casually talking

'i told you we are going serious'

'if you are going serious with her why haven't you met her family or something?'

After that he has been persistently asking about y/n's family and he eventually tells y/n he wants to meet them

(first time asking for something lol sorry if I made some mistakes, love the way you write <3)

“So got any plans with your girl and her family this Christmas?”

Miguel stops eating his cereal before looking up, seeing Glen taking a seat in front of him,

“What do you mean?”

Glen gives him a look, one that Miguel doesn’t understand. “I meant, are you going to spend some time with her family next week. Unless you both are only fucking around-“

“We’re not” Miguel’s quick to say, resuming to feed himself a spoonful of froot loops. Your favorite ones. And now it has become his favorite too. “We’re serious. She’s the one”

Hearing that makes Glen smile, leaning forward against the marble top as he hears how defensive his best friend gets with his girlfriend. “Okay that’s good. But does she know that?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, compá?”

“That you’re getting serious with her” Glen shrugs, interlocking his hands. “Because it’s been like what, almost six months you guys are fucking around-“

“We are not, fucking around” Miguel repeats through gritting teeth.

“Okay shit, sorry. Don’t kill me” Glen apologizes with a smile. “But has she ever, I don’t know—Asked you to go meet her family?”

Miguel thinks for a while before shrugging, playing with his food. “Not really… She never really talked about it so i assumed it’s a sensitive topic. She has a brother though.”

“Oh. Well okay” Glen answers with a sigh, earning a frown from Miguel as he stops chewing,

“What the hell is that?”

“The hell is what?!”

“That!” Miguel points, dropping his spoon. “Fuck, do i have something to worry about?!”

“What, no! Man—Christ! I didn’t peg you for an overthinker, O’Hara” Glen jokes, but Miguel doesn’t find it funny. “I’m just saying… If shit’s getting serious then you should probably ask her to go meet her family. If not then—“

“Fucking stop. I can’t and won’t hear what you’re about to say next.” Miguel stands up from his chair, grabbing the bowl before dumping it on the sink. “I mean she—she knows that i’m serious with her… Right? She’s got to be… Or maybe is she not—“

“Woah okay hey” Glen immediately jumps to console Miguel after seeing the defeated look on his face and the crack of his voice. Not exactly fond of seeing the distress expression across Miguel’s face.

“She knows, man.. Of course she does” Glen says, “that girl’s crazy in love with you it’s almost sickening. so i doubt she’ll leave your ass”

“You think so?” Miguel’s eyes soften at the confirmation. “She told you that?”

Glen only smile, hiding something that his best friend doesn’t know and he likes to keep it that way.

“Nope. Just a simple observation” He lies. “She here?”

“Yeah. Sleeping upstairs” Miguel’s heart blooms at the thought of his pretty girlfriend tucked comfortably underneath the covers of his bed,

“Alright then why the fuck are you still here? Be a gentleman, wake her up and get her breakfast. It’s almost 9” Glen claps his shoulder before walking away, resuming his daily routine.

Miguel’s hand reaches out next to the stove, grabbing the brown paper bag filled with your favorite cinnamon roll and lemon loaf along with an iced coffee from the cafe. He couldn’t decide which one you prefer to eat for breakfast, so he bought two instead.

He goes back to his room, entering in silence only to find you already woken up. His eyes light up when his favorite smile look up to him. The cause of his heart beat to quicken, knees to buckle and ruby irises to dilate,

He doesn’t think he’ll get tired of it,

“I was wondering where my big boy has gone” You stretch out your arms, kicking the covers off.

Miguel walks towards the bed, cheeks warming at the nickname. “Was craving cereal for breakfast so i went down to get some. I didn’t wanna wake you”

He takes a seat at the edge of the bed as you prop yourself up to sit up straight, the collar of his shirt you’re wearing falls down to one of your shoulder. Exposing your soft skin, littering with marks of his teeth from last night,

“So sweet of you, baby” You move to sit on your knees and move forward to kiss his lips. “What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” He moves the bag to your lap and set the iced coffee next to your bed. “Your breakfast. I got your favorites.”

Your eyes soften at his gesture, jutting your bottom lip forward. “Are you saying, you ate a cereal but you bought me bakery goods? Why would you do that?”

“You’re my girl” He responds as if it’s the most obvious thing. “I’m supposed to take care of you, mi amor.”

Your heart soars when he gives you his lovesick smile as his head tilts a bit to the side. “I love you, you know that? But i would’ve been just fine with cereal.” Your hands wrapped around his neck as he keeps a steady grip on your hips, drawing you close,

“Ay, cariño. I’ve lost count on the amount of times you’ve eaten that ever since you start sleeping over here” He chuckles, moving your hair to the back. “You need some better food in your system”

“Awe. I love how you’re taking care of me” You coo, giggling at your boyfriend lovely gesture.

He eyes you for a moment. From the crease of your brows, to your cute nose, and down to your soft full lips that he adores.

Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe you.

“What’s on your mind, Miggy?” You wonder, fingers move to lose themselves under his chocolate hair. “Hm?”

“Just thinking”

“About?”

“About when i get to meet your family” He blurts, causing your movement to stop. He panics for a little.

“I mean y-you don’t have to, wait—i mean we don’t have to” He nervously laughs, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. “I know we never actually talked about it. Which is why i won’t pressure you. But i would like to meet them someday… I want them to know that i’m not just some guy and that i’m taking good care of you and all”

You watch how he rambles. Feeling flustered at the choice of his words, especially the last one. He doesn’t want to come off cocky or anything but he can’t deny the fact that he’s the only man who has been treating you like a princess and he doesn’t even have to ask you for the truth.

A grin spreads across your features, letting out a giggle at how cute he’s acting. “You are, baby. You’re meeting my family”

His eyes widens. “Wait, i am?”

“Yes” You nod, pecking his nose. “I’m taking you to dinner with my family for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I already told them. It was supposed to be a surprise for you, though”

“Holy shit. Really?” Again, you nod which makes him smile even bigger. “This is the best news ever! I can’t wait to win them over!”

“You’re so cute, Miguel”

[milf-harrington]

i dont really know what this is, it was entirely unplanned and written on my phone, but i offer you some light angst inspired by the one second of panic i experienced this morning before realising my brother in law just had his headphones in <3

-----

Steve hated sleeping in, especially when it meant waking up alone.

It was already 8:20am, and the air in his room was brisk, worming its way under the covers to send goosebumps shivering across sleep-warm skin. He groaned quietly to himself, mentally bitching at Eddie for leaving him to brave the winter chill alone, before taking a breath to brace himself.

The covers flew off and took their warmth with them, while Steve reached over the bed to scoop up the dressing gown left on the floor. It was a gift from Robin on the anniversary of their soulmateship and it was a godsend on cold mornings.

His head swum lazily for a second when he stood up, body filled with a vague sense of unwell. He grimaced to himself, another reason he hated sleeping in.

Dressing gown wrapped tight around his torso and socks on his feet, Steve tucked his hands in his pockets and shuffled out of his room. The heating was on in the rest of the house, wafting from downstairs and Steve shivered happily.

The socks muffled his footfalls as he lazily plodded down the stairs, jumping the bottom one like a little kid and rounding the bannister to head down the hallway to the kitchen.

The blinds in the sunroom were pulled open, letting the light spill in through the trees and dance in dappled patterns over the carpet. He swallowed, avoiding looking at the pool, and slipped into the kitchen.

Eddie was there, leaned over the counter in one of Steve's sweaters with a newspaper open in front of him. He was yawning, nose scrunched up and half his teeth showing, and jotted down a couple letters in the crossword through squinted eyes.

A cup of coffee covered in various trout was next to his forearm, no steam becauze he'd probably forgotten it was there. Steve smiled, squeezing his hands happily inside his dressing gown pockets.

"Good morning," He greeted, brushing past to get to the overhead cabinet where they kept the mugs. "I didn't mean to sleep in."

His hands prickled with cold when they were freed from the warmth of his pockets, and he wrinkled his nose. Eddie didn't reply, too wrapped up in his crossword.

Steve yawned, tucking his hands back in, while he waited for the coffee machine to start. It spluttered and coughed its way through the whole process, the way it had since Lucas had accidentally thrown a plastic bowl at it. Steve swayed back and forth while he waited.

Behind him, Eddie sighed through his nose, paper rustling and Steve looked over his shoulder to watch as he closed the newspaper and shoved it across the counter.

"Morning." He tried again, deflating slightly when Eddie still didn't reply. He felt sick again, like he'd turned into one of those weird 3D movies the kids had dragged him to, multiple outlines all layered on top of each other.

The coffee machine went quiet, and he looked back to find it empty. He paused, frowning at the spot where his cup should have been.

He did grab one right? If he hadn't there would be coffee all over the place but- cautiously he reached out to brush his fingers along the side of the machine and frowned at the room-temperature feel. Like it hadn't even been on in the first place.

"Oh shit, I forgot you were there."

Steve spun around, weirdly hopeful, to find that Eddie was apparently talking to his coffee. He sipped it, and immediately spat it back out into the cup, a habit that shouldn't be anywhere close to endearing. And yet.

"Jesus Christ." He muttered, glaring down at it before taking a second tentative sip and spitting that one out too. Steve rolled his eyes on impulse, even as his heart started to pace in his chest. "Nope, can't do it, Buckley is an outlier."

His stomach lurched at the sound of his best friends name, and he opened his mouth to say- something, but then Eddie turned to face him.

"Are you done ignoring me?" Steve tried, hunched in his dressing gown like it could hide him from the panic simmering in his blood. When Eddie didn't react, he wasn't surprised, but he was briefly devastated.

"Eds." He tried again, blinking rapidly when his boyfriend pushed past him like he wasn't even there. "Eddie."

He was humming, tipping his coffee down the sink and putting the mug under the machine. It coughed to life, like it had for Steve, and Eddie stretched his arms over his head.

Checked his watch and wrinkled his nose.

Turned slightly to look down the hallway at the stairs.

"He should be up by now..." He murmured to himself, and Steve went cold.

Cold and panicked like he'd just been pushed into the pool with the heater off.

He couldn't move, worried that his body would just collapse in on itself and watched Eddie reach into the overhead cabinet. Watched him pull out the mug Steve had just grabbed for himself.

He tried again, to get Eddie's attention, growing more frantic when his attempts did nothing. He even tried pulling his hair, but it was like he hadn't even felt it.

"Okay clearly something is really wrong here, we need to call- someone, anyone." Steve decided, backing away as Eddie put the milk back in the fridge and picked up the cup for Steve. His own coffee had been left, abandoned, on the counter again.

"I'm going to call Robin," he said. "And we're going to figure out what's wrong with you, because this is- this is not fun."

It was actually kind of in Steve's top three worst fears, but that wasn't something he was willing to admit to anyone. Instead he took the phone off the hook and dialled for the Buckley house, watching Eddie disappear into the hallway.

It didn't ring. The dial tone droned quietly from a bed of static.

He closed his eyes tightly, and clenched his fist, eyes flying back open when he felt his nails dig into his palm. His hand was empty, the phone back on the hook like he'd never picked it up.

Fuck.

"Eddie..." He started, eyes still on the phone as he followed into the hallway. His boyfriend was already heading up the stairs, tongue poking his top lip as he balanced the probably-too-full cup in his hand.

"Eddie I don't think you should go up there."

Obviously, he didn't listen, whispering a quiet fuck to himself when he spilled coffee over his fingers and stopped to lick it off.

Steve jogged up the stairs behind him, trying to ignore the way his feet weren't making any sound.

"Baby I really don't think-" He froze at the top of the stairs. There was a mirror built into the wall at the end of the hallway, an empty side-table underneath it. Once upon a time it might have held flowers or books but that was years ago. And not what he was focused on.

He could see Eddie's reflection, hair frizzy with post-sleep tangles because he always forgot to plait it before bed. He could see dark eyes and a pale fingers wrapped around a steaming coffee mug.

He could see the rest of the hallway stretch out behind him until it hit the opposite end, where the spare bed and bath were.

He couldn't see himself. He waved a hand, heart sinking when nothing appeared in the mirror.

Eddie opened the door to his bedroom, wrinkling his nose immediately. "Jesus, it's cold in here."

Steve couldn't move again, still staring at the empty spaces he should've been taking up. He could hear Eddie talking.

"Hey sleepyhead, time to get up."

A soft thunk, like he was setting the mug down on the bedside table. A huffed laugh.

"Sorry sweetheart, but if you sleep any later you're gonna be all sore and grumpy."

Steve felt sick. He couldn't bring himself to move.

"Stevie?"

Eddie swore and a second later came flying out of the bedroom, running down the stairs. Steve swallowed, and stayed on the landing, listening to him fumble with the phone and punch in three numbers.

"Hi, I need an ambulance- the Harrington residence. Yes. Eddie Munson- Steve Harrington. Ye- no, I did not drug him. Look he's got a history of head trauma and he's not waking up. Of course I checked for a fucking pulse! Sorry, I'm just- yeah. Thank you, how long? Okay, okay, thank you. No I have- I have to call his family. Yes. Thank you, bye."

By the end of the call Steve had lowered himself yo the floor, leggs crossed underneath him with his back against the balcony railing. He could hear Eddies shaky breathing, the rough sniffle before he dialled a longer number.

"Good morning Mrs Buckley, can I please talk to Robin? Thank you." He sniffled again and Steve's chest ached, throat tight and burning.

"Robin-" Eddie's voice broke and Steve could picture her so clearly, the white of her knuckles gripping the phone, the steel in her eyes in the face of Eddie's fear. The bob of her throat, swallowing around the lump of her own fear.

She'd know immediately, he knew. Had probably woken up feeling queasy, stomach dropping every time the phone rang like she knew bad news was coming.

"Yeah, he-" a shuddery inhale, wet and nasally. "He's not waking up. I don't know if it's, if it's permanent or- he just wouldnt wake up, Rob."

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 3 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 12k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: very excited for this chapter because you guys finally get to see what a big part of fic will deal with. keeping everyone who reads on in my prayers <3 (you'll need it)

i've also added a small playlist for this fic. in case you'd like to dive in the link is above!

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 3 - The Sky

‘‘The sky here’s very strange. I often have the sensation when I look at it that it's a solid thing up there, protecting us from what’s behind.’ ‘But what is behind?’ Her voice was very small. ‘Nothing, I suppose. Just darkness. Absolute night.’’

- Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

The body is resting against the only intact wall of the cabin, to Joel's left. Propped up next to the fireplace, the scene around it leaving no doubt about the finality of it. Blue hair drenched in red, thick liquid pooling below and running through the crevices of the weathered and beaten wood.

He barely registers Tommy’s footsteps behind him nor that they come to a sudden halt.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath. 

Joel is the one that steps forward, kneeling down next to the fireplace, his hand gently reaching out to touch the pale skin of her hand. “She’s already cold. Must’ve been a few hours,” he whispers, his voice dangerously close to cracking.

“We need to alert the others. What if these guys are already at the gates? Maria has no clue-”

“Tommy-” Joel gently tries to stop the rambling of his brother, but he can't bring himself to take his eyes off her. But the other man is barely listening, his feet shuffling anxiously as he reaches for his rifle.

“Joel, goddamn it, I mean it. Get up. They may be waiting for the moment to attack-”

“There is no attack,” Joel says, again, and his voice feels too calm for what he’s implying. 

He stalls for a moment, the realization coming to him that he’s gotten too good at this. He’s gotten too good at being in the presence of death, likely better than he ever has been in the presence of people.

He carefully leans forward, using his free hand to gently push the fabric of her hoodie out of the way, glancing down at the wound and giving a small nod. He doesn't need to see the way Tommy’s shoulders fall. He feels the air shift as his brother comes to the conclusion Joel has found much faster. They both know why he got there quicker. Takes one to know one.

“Why would she-” Tommy breaks off, turning his gaze away from the thing he doesn't understand. “I don't know,” Joel mutters under his breath. It hasn't hit him yet, the full force of what this means. Of the consequences it will draw. “We need to get her back to Jackson.” But he can’t really focus on that. Not when he has your best friend’s lifeless body next to him without a clue where you are.

“Do you think-” There's a heavy pause. “Did she do this alone?” Tommy asks, placing his rifle next to the door and beginning to look around the cabin for something useful.

Joel immediately knows what he's asking. But he shakes his head. “I don't think she would have- There's no sign anyone else was here.”

His head is spinning, screaming at him to do the one thing he knows. He needs to find you.

And then he doesn't. Because before they can even begin to move the body, he can hear hooves approaching outside. He recognizes the fast gallop of your horse even before you call their names.

“Lane?! Joel?! Tommy?!” Your lungs hurt from calling them. It was easy enough to follow the tracks, spurring your own horse on much more than you dared on any patrol so far. The mare almost seems relieved when you reach the two other horses and you slide off her back in one quick motion.

It's at the same moment that the door flies open, Joel crossing the small veranda in a few strides. You freeze in your tracks. “Where-?” The words die in your throat. Joel carefully makes his way towards you, his steps slow and controlled. Your eyes fly to his hands. They’re bloody. He has almost reached you when you find his eyes again. There is a gentleness in them that confuses you for a split second.

And then it all makes sense. You don't want the blood, you don't want that look in his eyes, you don't want any of it once you realize what it means.

“No.” Your voice comes out all wrong and you don't know if he heard you. If anyone can.

“It's okay. Come here,” Joel mumbles as he reaches you, carefully sneaking his arm around you. He tries to pull you close and he's not sure whether it's for your or his sake. Maybe both.

“No. Joel, where is she?”

He shushes you again, readying himself to catch you if your knees give out, his grip around you tightening ever so slightly.

Joel Miller has come to know you fairly well over the past years. At least he likes to think he does and you've rarely caught him off guard. But today you do.

“Where is she?!” Your knees don't give out. Not even close. They bend just enough for you to slip past the broad man in front of you, taking off with a run towards the door of the cabin.

It takes him a second to register what has happened. Then, he’s storming after you as fast as his legs will allow him.

“Tommy!” he yells out, hoping that if he won't be able to stop you, at least his brother will. But it's he who catches up with you just as you take the first step onto the veranda, roughly pulling you back by your arm, hard enough that it sends both of you tumbling to the floor.

He barely registers the way the wooden step digs into his ribs and knocks the air out of his lungs. Instead, his fingers stay tightly wrapped around your arm. “Fucking let go, Joel! Let me see her!”

He doesn't know what to say. He can't tell you that he simply can't. That it would stay with you forever, even more than this will anyway.

“Come here,” he just repeats weakly, bringing his other arm around to pull you in. One of your knees is bleeding, your jeans ripped open where you hit the floor with full force. Joel makes a mental note to clean the wound later.

Your body is trembling much harder than you thought possible as you let Joel pull you into his arms. It has nothing to do with the cold. You don't even feel like you're able to recognize temperature. An absurd concept, that your body would adjust to any of it, that it would ever stop shaking and trembling. Joel's arms feel like he's all around you, wrapping his body around yours, sheltering you from what is only a few feet away. 

Your lungs that were burning just a minute ago seem to not be a part of you anymore. They in- and exhale in their own rhythm, one that feels too fast and too slow all at once. You hear Joel muttering into your ear, but you can't make out the words. Your cheeks are wet. You don't know why.

The world dissolves around you and you briefly wonder if you’re dying. It's not a shocking idea that gets you up and fighting. You wonder about death the same way you would about whether or not they have soap at the store. The world has almost gone dark when you realize you are not, in fact, dying. But, even as the strength leaves your muscles and you collapse against the body next to you, you are aware that something has.

***

You regain consciousness, just for a moment. There is a steady rise and fall around you and at first you think it's your lungs expanding and deflating. But as you open your eyes enough to catch a glimpse of your surroundings, they move. Up and down. Slow and steady.

You're on horseback, pressed against a broad chest that has to be Joel’s. His arms are pulling you tightly into him, keeping you upright, making sure you won't fall off. You don't think you could bring yourself to care. It probably wouldn't even hurt. In fact, every part of your body should hurt with the way you were running earlier, with how you fell onto the stairs, bone crunching as it took the blow to your side. But oddly enough, it feels like you're floating, like your mind is far away from your body and equally far away from Joel. There is a disconnect, a faulty wire. One that simmers, undetected, till it snaps one random afternoon and sets the whole house on fire.

You still feel like you’re drifting in and out of consciousness when the movement below you slows and you feel yourself being lifted down by strong, steady arms. They are a constant around you, a shield that protects you from what is beyond.

Word about your disappearances has traveled fast but not fast enough for no one to ask any questions. There have rarely been any runaways in Jackson, except for the occasional teenagers who usually show up again the day after- and the couple last year. The bodies Joel had found in the abandoned hotel. Why was he always the one to find them?

People approach, some calling out to the odd group arriving. Tommy leading both horses and shushing those who call out to them while Joel holds you close, staring down anyone who so much as tries to approach him.

“I’ll go and fetch Maria and we can-” Tommy pauses, his gaze wandering from his brother's face to the curled up body below it. He can't bring himself to say it. Not like this, not in front of you. 

Joel gives a curt nod, understanding. “Tell Maria we're at my place. And-” A small sigh escapes his lips. “Make sure she arranges for a group immediately.”

The younger man swallows hard and turns away. Infected will happily devour any meat they're given, no matter if they've hunted it down themselves. He doesnt think he could bear going back and finding a scene like that. His steps speed up.

You only catch glimpses of the people around you, words being whispered, conversations being started and then abruptly breaking off. And you still feel light, so light that you think you could just float away, disappear into the blue until you’d reach the horizon and whatever lies beyond. But you're wrapped in the dark leather coat that keeps sliding off your shoulders, wrapped in Joel’s arms, and so it won't happen. He won't let you float away. 

For all you know, all of the sounds and glimpses could be figments of your imagination, something like a dream or a fleeting memory of a book you’ve read as a child, one that you remember the cover and smell of, remember that it made you feel something, and yet, the story won't come to mind anymore. Above all, this can be, needs to be, something that is unreal. Because otherwise, you dont think you’ll be able to get through it.

You don't move. You let Joel carry you down Rancher Street, you let him nudge your head further into his chest as you realize you must be passing the corner of the graveyard. It seems impossible that you walked by it just a few hours ago, with your mind on the library and which exams to set and dinner this weekend. It all feels like a lifetime ago, a memory that doesn't belong to you but rather someone else.

The morning fog sunk back into the earth hours ago, the rays of the sun forcing it to clear. The sky above you feels close enough to touch, a vibrant and comforting shade of blue spanning from the tops of the wooden houses to the mountains in the distance.

You were just a baby when your father put up a swing in your backyard, strong ropes tied to the branch of an old oak tree. You must have heard the story a million times. Him, getting out his tools while you were watching from your blanket on the grass, not quite able to move your head on your own yet. But he insisted that your large eyes followed him around, contently staying where you were as he worked. 

You didn't understand, when hearing him talk about it, why he'd build a swing for someone too small to play on it. It only set in years later that he'd simply been that excited to bring home a little daughter and build something for her and fill the backyard with children's and adults' laughter alike.

That evening, he put you on his lap, one arm securely wrapped around the tiny form that was your body then, gently moving both of you back and forth. You’d fallen asleep almost instantly.

It became your favorite spot, and the way he talked about it years after you had left the house and the garden behind, it had been his too. You loved kicking your feet or spurring your father on to push you harder, watching as your legs soared towards the blue sky.

It seemed to you, back then, that you were miles above the ground, imagining what it'd be like to let go and drift off into the sky, to go up, up, up until your house would be nothing more than a small square below you, surrounded by green.

Joel carries you into the living room. He doesn't seem to want to leave you alone. And he seems restless.

He gets on his knees in front of you, soft brown eyes taking in your face. You avoid meeting them, curling further into the couch. His lips are moving but you can’t hear what he says.

After a few moments pass, you can tell he’s waiting for a response so you nod, almost in slow motion. He seems satisfied with that, saying something else before getting dinner started. It probably smells good, but you don't think you know good anymore.

You get through two potatoes, a bit of salad and chicken before you push your chair back, hurrying down the hallway as Joel scrambles after you.

You make it to the bathroom just in time, falling to your knees in front of the toilet as your stomach begins emptying itself. A sharp pain shoots through the knee that collided with the stairs of the cabin earlier. At the thought of the cabin, another wave of sickness hits you. It's violent, the way your throat convulses, your body trying to empty itself of whatever is inside.

But there is no purging the things inside of you. The thoughts and the memories and the images- god, the images. Lane, hunched over a table. Lane, holding a knife while you make dinner. Lane, laughing. Lane, placing a gun to her head. Lane, crying.

The steady flow of scenarios provided by your brain is broken by another wave of nausea, even though this time it is just dry heaving, your stomach already empty. Your head is not.

You don't hear the rushed footsteps behind you, but you feel the calloused hands pulling your hair out of the way and rubbing your back.

“There you go, get it all out,” Joel coos quietly. It's not his fault. That he doesn't immediately connect the dots as you start sobbing, choking for air. The sobs, your lungs demanding air, your stomach blocking the way, clearly insistent on getting everything out of your system.

You’re positive that the noises coming out of your mouth do not sound like yourself or, for that matter, sound human at all. They're a mix of gasping and heaving, back and forth, as your fingers clench around the toilet seat so hard you feel like it may break.

Joel is very lost and very determined not to let you notice. He has never seen you in this much pain, not when he washed you in the bathroom upstairs nor when you were seconds away from being ripped apart by an Infected. He cannot know that on the first night spent with Lane you were hunched over a toilet just like this, throwing up the blueberry muffins that had been too much for your starved stomach to handle. He cannot know she held your hair like he holds it now, fingers firmly wrapped around it, occasionally sweeping a loose strand behind your ear.

You're not sure how long you sit there like this, the cold tiles uncomfortably pressing into Joel's already sore knees, when he carefully leans you against the wall as he fetches a few towels, letting the water run until it's warm, to wet one of them and wipe your face.

His eyes fly over your features, concern etched into every part of his face. You weakly try and raise your arm to take the towel from him, unwilling to just sit and watch. But he shakes his head firmly, his gaze determined. “Let me, okay? You just focus on breathing.”

As he reaches for another towel, you feel your empty stomach filling again. With a heavy, uncomfortable guilt, one you wish you could throw right back up. Tears shoot into your eyes again but this time Joel doesn't hesitate.

“What's going on? Tell me what you're thinking,” he mutters, his thumb brushing over the side of your face as his other hand uses the towel to dab over your chin, carefully wiping the remainder of the vomit away.

“I wasted your food,” you half-whisper, your voice raw. Joel's face falls, for a moment.

“Nothing is ever wasted on you, you hear me?” he mumbles quietly, moving on to wipe your cheek. “I can always make more.”

He doesn't seem to mind that you cry again at that.

***

It must be past midnight when you wake up the next time. The room is only dimly lit now, and a blanket is tucked around you, your eyes facing the worn-out fabric of the couch Joel set you down on earlier. Earlier feels very far away.

You turn, slowly, glad to find that your stomach seems to decide to give it a rest for now. It still lurches slightly as you squint into the dining room, seeing two figures hunched over the wooden table.

“Joel?” you try to call his name, quietly, but your throat feels dry and the word turns into a cough instead. Your fingers rub your throat, willing it to calm down and relax, as Joel appears in front of you, kneeling down beside the couch and offering you a glass of water. You nod your thanks, using both hands to bring it to your mouth and take a few sips.

“Better?” He hums softly, taking the glass back. You give another nod. If he minds the non-verbal communication, he doesn’t let it show. Instead he turns around, returning with the glass refilled. You gratefully accept it again.

It's only after he's placed it onto the small coffee table that your eyes land on Tommy, leaning against the wooden column separating the two rooms as he watches the scene in front of him. He gives you a swift nod when your eyes meet and something that seems like it was supposed to be a smile but, given the circumstances, fails miserably.

Joel motions for him to come closer. “Come on, it's- have a seat.” Their eyes meet and they seem to communicate silently, no doubt continuing the conversation where they left off.

Tommy sits down. He shuffles his feet, his fingers anxiously tapping the lid of a plastic container that holds some food. Courtesy of Maria, no doubt. Joel takes the spot next to you on the couch and you inch towards him, glad for any kind of support even though you have no clue what is about to happen.

“We- We’re still trying to piece everything together,” Tommy says, his voice quiet and solemn. You tense ever so slightly, listening intently. You're not sure you want to know how or why or any of the other details that will undoubtedly make this more real.

“There was a note in- with her,” he goes on, seemingly choosing his words very carefully. “She said she left you a letter, back at home.” Your eyes automatically fly to Tommy’s sides, half expecting him to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket. He seems to notice your train of thought.

“We're still going through her room, just to make sure- we just want to be certain this happened the way she says it did,” he finishes quietly. You can feel two pairs of eyes on you, but you just nod. Of course. Someone could’ve murdered her and staged it as a suicide. Somehow, that idea didn’t cross your mind. Maybe because you don't think anyone could ever truly hate Lane nearly enough to wish her harm or maybe simply because you already seem to feel in your stomach that her life ended on her own terms.

Joel and Tommy exchange a few glances until Joel awkwardly clears his throat and reaches out to take the plastic container from him. “I'll put this in the fridge.”

The younger brother keeps his eyes on you as you listen to Joel rummaging in the kitchen. His hand awkwardly reaches for your shoulder, hovering above it for a moment before patting it lightly. “I'm so sorry, kid.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” you manage to press out, your own gaze fixed on the opposite wall. You don't want to see the look again, the same one Joel had back at the cabin. In fact, you think you may never want anyone to look at you ever again.

You're still staring at the same spot when the two men head towards the front door a few minutes later. Their voices are low and they must be standing half outside, if the cold creeping into the house is anything to go by. You know their words are not meant for your ears but you still stay absolutely still, listening.

“I’ll bring the letter by tomorrow, okay? Let her get it over with,” Tommy mumbles and you think you hear him shuffling his feet again.

“Yeah, yeah, you do that,” Joel responds, equally quiet. There is a moment of silence. They haven't had a moment to talk about all this, for Joel to consider if he of all people should be the one to take care of you. 

Tommy seems to think along the same lines, even though you can't begin to guess the depth of their seemingly simple words.

“Are you okay to-?” 

Joel gives a shaky nod. “Yeah, ‘ts fine. She needs someone and- Ellie’s staying with Dina for a few days, until we've figured things out.”

Tommy doesn't know what to say. He carefully takes in Joel's face, or at least what he can make out of it in the dim light of the porch. He goes for a hug instead, wrapping his arms around his brother for a fleeting moment, a hand rubbing over the older man's back. “Either of you need anything, we're all here.”

His voice has dropped enough for you not to overhear the last part.

Maybe it's because Joel's own hearing is bad, but he doesn't seem to realize you've been listening when he comes back into the room a few moments later. “I'm sure they'll be done tomorrow. But we should all try and get some sleep now.” He takes a step towards you, gently running his hand over the top of your head. “I put some fresh sheets onto the bed upstairs while you were out. I don't want ya sleeping on the couch.”

You're too tired and exhausted to protest. Besides, you know it would be a waste of time. So you let him help you upstairs, let him wait right outside the bathroom door as you brush your teeth and let him tuck you into bed, the soft sheets a stark contrast against your dirty and scratched up skin. Joel looks down at you for a moment, his fingers tapping against his leg.

“Do you want me to stay here?”

It's almost embarrassing how fast you jump onto the offer, nodding as you finally meet his eyes again. He looks concerned and sad and you hate that you're the cause of it. But you also want his company, more than anything.

Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you shortly afterwards. He’s changed into pajamas, made up of a pair of brown plaid pants and a cream-colored, worn shirt. Compared to you, he actually looks put together. You can see his outline beside you, the candle on his nightstand the only source of light left in the room. It gives everything a dim, orange glow, distantly reminding you of a sunset.

You're suddenly aware of how very heavy your head feels, far too heavy to be held up by your neck. There are too many thoughts in there, you think, they don’t have enough room to breathe. Or to make sense. The faulty wires are back. And they keep your synapses from connecting correctly. Nothing makes sense. 

‘We just want to be certain this happened the way she says it did.’

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice comes out small and still, it seems too loud in the quiet around you.

“Anything,” comes the response, equally quiet even though Joel's voice sounds more steady than yours. You ponder your words for a few moments and you feel him shift beside you, propping his head up on one arm to get a better look at your face. “What is it, darlin’?”

“They brought her back to Jackson, right?”

Joel seems to consider his words for a moment, then he nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, they did.” Even in the dim light, you can feel his eyes on you, searching your face. You turn your face away from him, staring at the stacked records in the corner instead.

“Why would someone go through all that trouble? Bringing her so far out?” The words coming out of your mouth seem as much a surprise to you as they are to Joel. You can hear him suck in a breath beside you. The mattress dips below his weight as he sits up.

“Can you look at me for a moment?”

You obey, turning your head and resting your cheek against your shoulder. You can see Joel's face above you. He looks like he's about to cry. You must be very tired, you think to yourself. Joel Miller doesn't cry.

Before your eyes and mind can drift away again, he swallows and speaks up again, the southern drawl in his voice more present than ever.

“Honey- No one made her go.”

His words are slow, carefully chosen. He knows he is treading a fine line here.

“She did it herself, darlin’.” A small frown has spread over his face, his eyebrows knitted together. “I told you earlier, downstairs. Don’t you remember?”

You shake your head, painfully aware that the gentleness in his tone is back, the same one he’s had earlier at the cabin. You think you know all the things he’s telling you, but you can’t recall Joel saying it. The picture of him in front of the couch appears before your eyes, but you can’t make out the words coming out of his mouth. Again, you find yourself surprised that you're the one who speaks instead.

“Did anyone check her?” 

He pauses at that, the frown deepening. “What do you mean?” 

You take a small breath, your fingers pulling at a loose thread of the sheets below you. “I mean, did they check if she's really-” You pull a little harder and the thread breaks, the thin piece of fabric remaining in your palm.

You wonder if they have wrapped her up yet. If someone’s put fresh clothes on her. If anyone has checked her pulse.

“What if she's not dead?”

“I need you to listen to me.” His voice is slightly more urgent now. “I saw her. And she's gone. I'm so sorry and I wish she wasn't and I know-” His voice comes dangerously close to breaking but he only gives a tiny shake of his head and presses on.

“I know how difficult this must be but you need to understand this. She's gone. She's not coming back.”

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing or commenting, i promise it will be the highlight of my day <3

[incorrectcreepypastafam]

Creepypasta As DanAndPhilGAMES Quotes After The Revival

Toby: I’ve graduated into fuckland

Jeff: just stop speaking

Toby: okay

Toby: soft launching the gay

Jeff: I’m gonna hard launch you out of that window

Liu: know what I mean?

Jeff: no

Jeff: is it hard for you to speak sometimes

Lyra: did that work

Jeff: not really

Lyra: I tried really hard

Jeff: what is the most emo clothing we got here

Jeff: my brother, WELCOME TO THE BLACK PARADE

Lyra: look at this magnificent bitch

Brian: communities that shit together stay together

Jeff: I will try to be normal

Tim: where’s your mind at

Toby: where’s your mom at

Toby: and now I’m wet in this suit

Lyra: uhhhhhhhhhh

Lyra: you pissed?

Toby: I’m gonna stop breathing

Jeff: thank you, Toby, that’s a good volunteer

Ben: maybe they got struck by lightning

Jeff: where was the lightning bitch

Ben: I’m gonna haunt every generation of your family

Tim: should we take it in turns with the swinging?

Tim: that’s what someone’s mom said last night

Game: it’s been a long day

Liu, to Jeff: me sitting next to you

Brian: I’m grabbing my boobs

Sally: is it an alien or Squidward? What are we being chased by?

Sally: it’s hard for me to tell

Liu: THATS THE SHADOW OF THE ROSE ITS NOT A DEMON

Jeff: if that baby comes out I’m gonna kill you

Toby: I’d like that

Toby: you know what they say about big feet

Lyra: what

Toby: big socks

Lyra: okay

Jeff: half an hour montage of Tobias Rogers attempting to learn how to put on a cape

Toby: can you help

Jeff: no

Toby: and then I just saw some lightning happening in the microwave and thought “what a beautiful night for a thunderstorm”

Sally: I don’t do drugs I don’t know what grams are

Lyra: im hot I don’t know how to count

Jeff: maybe I am heaven

Sally, pointing at plastic spiders: that’s Ben. That’s Ben 2. That’s Ben 3

Liu: I’m gonna give us a solid 7/10 on that one

Jeff: just a seven? Are you fucking kidding me

Liu: I was being humble

Jeff: fuck humble

Jeff: do you ever reflect on our lives and just think… stop

Liu: yeah all the time

Tim: I wanna fuck the Eiffel tower

Jeff: dead people in France

Liu: STOP IT

Ben: im gonna hit you with a meteor

Sally: im gonna microwave you

Toby: can I just show you something

Jeff: is it a dead person in France

Jeff: im in my cougar era. Watch out twinks, Jeff is on the prowl

Lyra: I wanna do things to this house

Liu, through his teeth: what do you want to do to the house, Lyra?

Liu, through his teeth: respect the house, Lyra

Jeff: what happens when you tap the emo dragon

Liu: you want me to tap it?

Jeff: yeah

Liu: *taps dragon*

*g note plays*

Jeff: that’s damn right

Ben: I do not think playing this game is how Christ would want us to start his season but here we are

Jeff: but Santa would and so would his brother, Satan

Ben: okay

Jeff: I don’t own any sex toys that go chomp chomp

Jeff: but nice to know that you do

Jeff: I’d say Jesus Christ but I know he’s not listening right now

Toby: five strokes and you’re done

Jeff: that’s what they call me. Five strokes Jeffy

Jeff: who’s they? What am I saying?

*trying to figure out what lmb stands for*

Jeff: lobotomy maybe bestie

Toby: look mate… BITCH

Jeff: it’s making you more intelligent that’s why you’re winning at golf

Jeff: we finally found a way to fix you

Sally: you’re banned from friendship

Ben: this is a safe space

*literally five minutes later*

Ben: point at the guy who doesn’t know how to crouch

Lyra: I would like you all to tell me how I can be better at this game

Ben: um don’t walk down hole

Lyra: okay

*playing Lethal Company*

Jeff: Ben’s not here let’s have a party

Ben: please get back on the ship or I’ll be leaving without you

Jeff: we thought we found a wheel. It was a mine

Jeff: they’re both fucking dead as fuck

Ben, laughing: good job

Jeff: Tim, you’re a top bunk kinda guy right?

Tim: that’s not what Tumblr says

Jeff: is that brown Grimace

Jeff: what the fuck am I looking at

Toby: I’ve never watched an episode of My Little Pony

Jeff: no because you’re normal

Game: who invented the lightning rod

Sally: me

Lyra: what’s the opposite of tears

Jeff:

Jeff: piss

Jeff: and the moral of the story is

Jeff: fuck books

Jeff: get paper cuts

Liu: no

Jeff: what

Liu: stop

Jeff: oh I missed this completely

Liu: is there some kind of grimy wall from your childhood we need to talk about

Jeff: it’s you bitch

Lyra: I put up flyers for car washing. I washed someone’s car and then they said I scratched it with my rings. Why was an eight year old wearing rings?

Jeff: did they try to scam an eight year old?

Lyra: YES

Jeff: you should’ve killed them

Brian: I would give birth to a child on this

Tim: yes

Brian: I would eat the child straight off it

Tim: no

Liu: let’s just grab an apple and try our best

Toby: hey Siri what’s 25+6

Ben:

Ben: girl-

Ben: 31

Toby: 29

*playing Poppy Playtime*

Jeff, to a toy oven: come with me, Owen

Liu: Owen needs to stay where he is

Jeff: I will love you, Owen

Jeff: I don’t like to contribute I just like to judge

Liu: but, Jeff, what is a VPN?

Jeff: virtual private gnome

Liu: gnome begins with a g

Jeff: :0

Sally: everything is just too heavy

Sally: even milk like

Sally: why are you heavy

Lyra: honestly liquid needs to calm down

Lyra: you know what we say about

superstitions

Liu: that they’re not real?

Lyra:

Lyra: do you wanna fight

Toby: just like Sonic The Hedgehog we’re going speed dating

Toby: … as he was known to do

Ben: what

Toby: what fictional characters could we see here

Toby: what are you expecting

Lyra: I’m expecting an anime boy

Lyra: I don’t know who else

Toby: Bill Clinton

Lyra: okay

Toby: he’s real

Jeff: I don’t care if Mozart did this when he was five he’s a nerd

Liu, about baboons: they only live up to 30 years in the wild and 45 years in captivity

Jeff: oh my god you’ve only got a couple years left

Ben: life comes at you fast and so does Trombone Champ

Tim: unleash the babussy

Jeff: did you just g note me with a fucking trombone

Jeff: last time I lost my voice. I’m loud as fuck today you’re gonna wish I had

Lyra: they ate

Liu: okay

Jeff: I was 26 doing that on YouTube

Jeff: fuck yeah good for me

Jeff: did you know that we are celebrities

Toby: celebritenis

Jeff: we are vips

Toby: vipenis

Jeff: we are influenc-

Jeff: *vomit noise*

Jeff: what did you just say

Toby: vipenis

Jeff:

Sally: when I did 23andme it said I was 8% lobster and I think we all know why

Brian: I think I looked snatched

Toby: *dies laughing*

Brian: did I use that right

Jeff: look it’s hard being this pretty

Lyra, reading the question: if they were having a party, what would they serve

Jeff: cunt

Jeff: sorry

Toby: I mean anything could’ve slipped onto something

Jeff: what

Toby: I don’t know what I mean

Jeff: oh god

[ww2yaoi]

words wip game

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

I was tagged by both @sidleckie and @goodluckbabeheffron to do this :3 thanks guys love u guys. my words are LIARS and MOVIE

(under the cut because it's too long lmao)

*~*~* word one *~*~*

L - Leckie rises from his bunk and grabs the Rupert Brooke off the table. He hands it to Eugene. The book immediately feels good in his grasp, small and solid and comfortingly worn like all old books are. It reminds Eugene of his New Testament, the suggestion of which grounds him in more peaceful times, his head bowed in church, singing hymns with his feet planted on the floor and the pew hard beneath him.

I - “I do want children,” Sid continues. “Hell, what was all of this for if not—”

He cuts himself off with a sigh. It feels too cruel to admit right now. Eugene sits back on his heels and releases a fistful of dirt-matted roots into the grass. He looks pallid in the dark. Frankly, he hasn’t seemed well all evening.

A - A few days later, they’re down at the lake, soaking up the last of the afternoon sun. Joe lounges on the pebbly shore with an arm draped behind his head, smoking because he’s always smoking, while David sits cross-legged beside him, penning a letter to his brother stationed in France.

R - “Rupert Brooke,” Eugene says. “1914 & Other Poems. Any good?”

Leckie looks at him, glass poised below his upper lip. It warps his smirk. He clears his throat.

“If I should die, think only this of me,” he recites, jokingly at first. “That there’s some corner of a foreign field / That is for ever England. There shall be.”

Eugene watches him with fascination. Leckie’s face sobers as the last few words leave his mouth, like the sincerity of the verse is overtaking his initial bemusement. His voice is so steady and low Eugene can feel it in his belly. Eugene brushes his thumb over the book’s spine, thinking he’s pleased Leckie with his selection, but he’s only able to enjoy the feeling for a moment.

“A little Victorian for my tastes,” Leckie adds unceremoniously. “Too sentimental. The early war crap always is.”

He swirls the remaining finger of hooch around in his glass, jaw set, then takes a swig.

“Oh,” Eugene says, deflating.

S - “She wants to be a writer.”

“Does she?”

“Like Virginia Woolf, she said.”

Joe makes a psh sound through pursed lips. “Where the hell did she get that from?”

“Where do you think?” Mary says with a cocked eyebrow, pointing her cigarette towards Web. “She’s nine years old, Joe.”

Joe smirks. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell Dave to recommend some writers that aren’t feminist lesbians who drowned themselves.”

“Joe,” Mary warns. “Don’t be crude.”

Joe just shrugs. He’s almost done with his cigarette, ready to flick the butt onto the ground and go back inside, but Mary appears solemn as she watches the kids at the other end of the backyard. She rubs a hand over her face. Her eyes are tired, cloudy.

*~*~* word two *~*~*

M - “My sister is pregnant.”

“Which one?”

“Mary.”

“Again?” Web looks at Joe with widened eyes. “Someone pull Jim off of her, for the love of God, or at least teach him how to use a fucking rubber for Christ’s sake.”

Joe laughs, but he sobers again as he says, “She wasn’t all too happy about it when she told me.”

“No?”

“I said if she wanted I would help her get an abortion.”

Web’s eyes widen even more at that. “Joe, you did not. What did she say?”

“Told me to fuck off, though not in those words.”

O - Outside, the sky is still somewhat light, one of the many perks of summertime in Austria. The muted glow pours through the open window, painting everything in an amber haze. David smells grass and warm pavement like a solstitial perfume.

“Go find Doc Roe,” David suggests, leaning back in his desk chair and plucking the cigarette from his mouth. “I’m sure he can give you something for it.”

Joe sighs dramatically, sitting on the edge of his bed and rubbing at the back of his neck. He’s still in his PT gear, his hair rumpled and wavy in the way it gets after being soaked with lake water for several hours.

“Don’t touch it,” David warns. “You’re gonna make it worse.”

V - Voicing any of this out loud, however, has always seemed out of the question. David doesn’t know what promises he can make right now, if Joe will even take him up on any. He doesn’t want to entertain the possible rejection, rejection he’s feeling in flashes right now.

“I don’t know,” is all David can think to say.

Something like hurt passes over Joe’s face. He presses his lips into a thin line then shakes his head. “See, you don’t know what you’re askin’.”

Joe gets to his feet, crossing the room to snatch up a discarded pair of ODs that have been draped over the footboard of his bed. David watches as he pulls them on then stuffs his feet in his jump boots and stoops down to tie the laces.

David sighs. “Joe, c’mon. Don’t do this.”

I - “I don’t know,” Eugene says with a shake of his head. “If it was all an awful waste? If we’re no better off?”

“Eugene,” Sid warns, an uneasy feeling sinking like a stone to the bottom of his gut.

“Well, do you?” Eugene asks, stubborn as always.

Sid just looks at him, his unease blooming into something more like anger. For once, he’d just like to get through a dinner party or a dance or a Sunday morning church service without Eugene bringing up the war.

“It’s no use asking these kinds of questions,” Sid says evenly. “You’ll never get your answer.”

Eugene says nothing, his eyes deadening.

E - Eugene scratches down his signature in dull graphite, straightens, then hands the pencil back to Leckie.

“War knows no power,” he quotes, taking it from him, meeting Eugene’s eyes. “Safe shall be my going.”

It sounds more like prayer than poetry. Eugene’s chest stirs, and he’s suddenly aware of how little space there is between them.

“For something you don’t like, you sure as hell have a lot of it memorized,” Eugene says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Leckie huffs out a breathy laugh. “Well, I used to like it. Not so much anymore.” He claps the notebook closed and Eugene nearly jumps. “You’ve got a week with it. If we’re still here in a week, that is.”

Leckie’s delivery is so deadpan Eugene can’t tell whether or not the joke is at his expense. He smiles anyway.

*~*~*~*~*~*

in conclusion:

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

- classified

sas: rogue heroes ocs be upon ye. little introductory piece for my beloved Harry twins because they are everything to meee <3

tagging: @hellofanidea @saturnwisteria @moghraidhs @6thofapril1917

Afternoon sunlight glinted against the rim of Carmen's glass, the repetitive clink clink clink of metal against metal cutting through the low chatter that surrounded her as the needle in her hand knocked against her ring with each stitch. Her sunglasses had been pushed up, holding back her curls as she finished off the first wing of the insignia in her lap, offering herself a small, satisfied nod.

"Gettin' good at that," Her brother's voice caught her off guard, gaze snapping up to meet him as he pulled out a chair and took a seat opposite.

"Jesus," Carmen muttered, planting her feet on the floor and sitting up straight. "Yeah, well, Nan made me darn your socks enough times. Got you a beer," She nodded, gesturing to the full pint glass on the table.

"Oh, thanks," Jonah nodded, raising the glass to his lips and taking a long sip. Letting out a hum, he wiped the foam from his lips. "Yunno I've been stood down and sittin' around this city for two bloody weeks, you could've at least come by the barracks. The other blokes are all writing letters to their sisters and I'm getting ignored by mine in the same city, it's embarrassing."

"Well, that's 'cause I have a job. A more important job than yours, some might say."

"'Some' being you."

Carmen shrugged, letting out that low, irritated hum she always did when she couldn't think of something to retaliate with. Re-threading her needle, she raised the thread to her mouth, tugging it against the point of her canine until it snapped.

"What are you actually doing?" He asked, leaning forward on the edge of his seat to get a better look at the half-finished patch in her lap.

"Oh, it's just somethin' we're working on."

"It looks like insignia," Jonah pointed out with a nod.

She snorted slightly. "Well, you won't be seeing it around any time soon."

"One of your schemes, eh?"

"I'll give Clarke most of the credit. But yeah."

"And you can't tell me about it, of course."

"Well, it's c-"

"-Classified," He chuckled, finishing her sentence before the word could leave her lips. "God, don't you miss when we used to tell each other everything?"

Carmen's lip curled with a smile, putting down her sewing as she met his eye. "I miss all of it."

Jonah's jaw hung slack in an open-mouthed grin. "Has being a professional liar somehow made you more honest?"

"Shut up!" She squeaked, reaching across the table to smack him on the shoulder. "I never lie to you, I just... omit."

"Which is so normal of you, of course, great job."

"Hey, I tell you more than I tell Nan."

"You don't tell Nan anything."

"Exactly," Carmen smirked, eliciting a snort from her brother. The pair glanced up as one of the waiters approached, hands folded neatly across his front as he waited for their order. Jonah opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Carmen rattled off something indecipherable in Arabic, pointing to the items she wanted on the menu. If he'd be paying attention to the waiter's expression, he might have pieced together that her Arabic wasn't quite as good as it seemed, but from where he sat - to his untrained ear - it all seemed rather impressive.

With an apologetic smile, she handed over the menus, and the waiter departed with a polite nod. A flush of colour tinted her cheeks as she looked back at her brother, whose eyes had narrowed.

"Gettin' good at that too, Christ."

"Oh, God," Carmen cringed, running a hand across her face. "It's nowhere near as good as my German. I keep fucking up the grammar."

"Oh, woe is you." Jonah teased, voice laced with mock irritability as he rolled his eyes.

Even in the shelter of the cafe patio, the Cairo heat seemed relentless, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as a damp patch soaked through the back of his shirt. "Jesus, I'll never get used to the sun out here," He muttered, taking another long sip of his beer. Carmen reached for the wine list, cool air hitting his face as she fanned it back and forth. "Thanks," Jonah grinned, letting out a breathy laugh.

"You're such a bloody tourist," She spoke with a low chuckle. "Surprised you can even hold a gun with hands that sweaty."

"Fuck off," He groaned, head tilted back to face the plaster ceiling above. After a moment of silence, he sat upright, brow furrowed.

"Wait, you speak German?"

Carmen laughed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The door to the office creaked as Carmen slipped inside, letting out a sigh as she removed her sunglasses, tousling her hair back into shape with the other hand. The place was quiet, save for the constant whirring of the desk fans, and it was difficult to move around without knocking into another precariously balanced pile of files and books and other various miscellanea.

"There's prostitutes outside again," She pointed out, hanging her bag up on the coat stand.

Dudley Clarke sat at his desk, feet crossed over and propped up against the table as he lounged back in his seat, arms folded tightly across his chest. He had appeared asleep when she'd first arrived, but Carmen knew better. Slowly peeling one eye open, he watched her sideways.

"You know, you're not high-ranking enough to disappear on me," He pointed out languidly, disregarding her remark. "You're meant to be here when I need you."

"Uh-huh," She shrugged without concern, coming to perch on the edge of his desk. "My brother's in town, I'm gonna go see him occasionally."

"You're on the clock."

"We're literally always on the clock," Carmen frowned. A beat passed, and she realised Clarke had nothing with which to counter that. "Anyway, I wasn't not working. Here ya go," She tossed the finished jump wings into his lap, and Clarke sat upright, examining the patch closely.

"Hm. Not too shabby."

"Figured it didn't need to be perfect. Just needed to look good in the photos."

"This'll do nicely," He nodded, rummaging among the piles of paper that littered his desk for the right file.

"I'll sew it on, then I can go take the photos in the morning," Carmen explained, only half expecting him to have listened as she watched him produce the papers.

Clarke hummed in acknowledgement. "Good. Excellent."

"... And-?" She prompted, arching a brow. He looked up from his desk, letting out a sigh as he registered her expression.

"Yes, thank you, Carmen," He nodded. Giving him a pat on the shoulder, she pushed herself up from the edge of the desk, heading back towards her own. Outside, a chorus of giggles sounded, a group of women gossiping like a gaggle of geese, their voices seeping through the wooden door. Clarke paused whatever he'd been writing, putting his pen down with a frustrated huff. "Are those prostitutes back again? Will you go out and send them off?"

"Hm," Carmen mused, lowering herself into her desk chair and picking up the nearest file, thumbing through the pages. "Nah. Busy. I'm on the clock, remember? The SAS isn't going to make itself."

"... You're a terrible employee."

"No, I'm not."

She could feel his stare boring into her skull.

"... Hm."