#once again coming in clutch with them tracks

[weemssapphic]

Split in half

Larissa Weems x f!reader

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

Words: ~1.5k | ao3 link in title

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

-

“Ow - fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just throw them out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck!” 

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

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

-

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

x

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

[i-cant-sing]

Okay but I need yall to help me figure out the character(s) for the following scenario:

Imagine a romantic yandere falling for reader, and ofc reader isn't in love with yandere for obvious reasons like red flags. Maybe they did try dating, Yandere is a charmer, comes from a rich family, he's smart and hardworking and oh so head over heels in love with you. He's always taking you out on best dates, HAS to get you the largest fucking bouquets (excellent taste in flowers) and buys you expensive but well thought out gifts.

But for whatever reason, things dont work out and you break things off hastily and most likely over the phone before leaving the country. And yandere just- breaksdown. I mean my man does not have a good mental health as is, but you leaving, actually leaving him just breaks him down and he has a full blown panic attack.

I'm talking about yandere falling to his knees, clutching his chest and gasping for air, tears streaming down his face as he screams your name like a mad man. His family, they love him, they adore their son/brother/grandchild sm, it pains them to see him in such a miserable state. Yandere man is so delirious that he has to be sedated, tranquillised by medical professionals because he's just losing his fucking mind, babbling your name over and over again like a mad man. His condition only worsens as time passes, and so his family decides to take drastic measures because they can't see their beloved son/brother/grandkid so fucking dead and depressed and a shell of a once bright man. They love him so much, they only want ti see him happy, so they use their money and influence to track you down and try to convince you to return and take yandere back. When you refuse, they take the high way and force you to come with them, dragging you kicking and screaming to their private jet and fly all the way home, where yandere is.

You're in a dishevelled state, tears running down your cheeks as you struggle to free yourself from their grasps as they take you to yandere. And when yandere sees you... for the first time in months, his family sees the light return in his eyes as the yandere reaches out for you, scared that you're just his mind playing tricks. When he finally touches you, he is immeadiately pulling you into a hug, arms tightening around your body like a gilded cage as he cries into your shoulder and thanks his family for bringing you back. His family only smiles with tears in their eyes as they lock the door behind them when they leave, so that you don't go running away. Meanwhile, yandere has pulled you into his lap and he's looking at you with such sad eyes, staring at each feature of yours over and over again as if to memorise it all again. He can't help the tears that continue to slip out of his eyes, maybe he's crying that you're finally here, or maybe he's crying for all the time that's been lost when you weren't here. You fall asleep soon due to exhaustion, but yandere doesn't sleep a wink that night because he continues to stare at you and play with your hair very gently, finally closing his eyes when morning comes and he wraps his arms around you and traps your legs with his.

By now, you guys realise that the yandere's family is not only yandere for their son/brother/grandson but also for you. They are yandede for you too, but they're not allowing you to leave them or their son or even make him unhappy ever again. Some members are willing to let all you "tantrums" slide, while others are not so kind. BUT one thing is for sure, you're ALWAYS safe with yandere s/o, no matter what.

Now, for the characters I've had in kind for this scenario are:

Halim Mehmet Shah and the Shah Family (my ocs)

Dabi/Shotou and Todoroki clan (I am the OG creator of Yandere Todoroki Clan)

I wanna say Naoya or Toji but the Zenin clan hates them both....

Dick Grayson/Jason Todd and Batfam

What do you guys think?

Mood board for this scenario^^^(I love Pinterest)

[ha-rinrin]

Falling Ashes

Warning: I dont really know if this counts as a spoiler for act 3, but if you haven't watched it, read once you have.

Summary: Jinx made it, but at what cost?

Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1k

Authors note: I chose happiness, Jinx isn't dead. I know this is short but I swear there'll be more fics coming out soon.

masterlist

The hum of the airship filled the silence, a steady, mechanical rhythm that seemed to echo the weight of the moment. The world below stretched out in endless darkness, the glow of Zaun's lights fading further with every passing second. You sat beside Jinx on one of the worn benches, the cold metal digging into your legs through your thin clothing.

She was covered in dust and soot, streaks of black smeared across her pale skin. Her hair, usually meticulously braided, was short, matted with ash and debris. The faint smell of explosives still clung to her, a sharp reminder of what had just happened. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her breathing shallow as she stared at the floor with vacant eyes.

You couldn't stop the tears from streaming down your face. They blurred your vision, hot and relentless, carving tracks through the grime on your cheeks. Your hands trembled in your lap, clutching at your skirt as though holding onto it would keep you grounded.

“I didn’t think you…” your voice cracked, and you had to swallow hard before continuing. “I didn’t think you’d made it.”

Jinx didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze remained fixed downward, her shoulders slumping as though the weight of the entire world rested on them. Her hands, stained with gunpowder and blood, twitched slightly before falling still again.

Finally, she tilted her head toward you, just enough to glance at you from the corner of her eye. There was something hollow there, a deep well of exhaustion and hurt that words couldn’t begin to touch. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. She closed it again, her lips pressing into a thin, trembling line.

“I thought I…” you choked on the words, a sob cutting through them. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Jinx’s lips parted again, but all that came out was a faint, bitter chuckle. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement but something else entirely—a reflex, an instinct to push away the weight of your words.

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, “I guess I’m hard to get rid of.”

The sarcasm in her tone felt misplaced, hollow, and it only made your chest ache more. You reached out hesitantly, your fingers brushing against her arm. She flinched but didn’t pull away, letting your touch linger there, light and uncertain.

“Jinx,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I… I thought…”

She finally turned her head fully to look at you, her eyes glinting in the dim light of the cabin. They were wild and distant, haunted by things you couldn’t see, but there was a flicker of something else—a recognition of your presence, even through the fog of whatever storm raged inside her.

“You don’t get it,” she said, her voice wavering. “I wasn’t sure I… should've made it.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, stealing the air from your lungs. You shook your head vehemently, fresh tears spilling over.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered, your hand tightening around her arm. “Don’t ever say that. You… you’re here. That’s all that matters. You made it.”

Her lip quivered, and for a moment, you thought she might break. But she didn’t. She held herself together with a kind of fragile determination, turning her gaze back to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you said suddenly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the engines. “I’m sorry about Isha.” The name felt like a dagger in your chest, sharp and unforgiving. More tears streamed down your face, and your breath hitched as you struggled to continue. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her. I… I tried, but it wasn’t enough. I failed her.”

Jinx stiffened at your words, her hands curling into fists on her lap. For a moment, she looked like she might bolt, her body taut with tension. But then she exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping further as though the fight had drained out of her entirely.

“Isha,” she whispered, her voice cracking as the name escaped her lips. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor, her expression unreadable. “She was… she was my fault.”

“No,” you said quickly, your voice firm despite the tremor in it. “No, she wasn’t. You can’t… don’t carry that. It wasn’t your fault.”

Jinx finally looked at you again, her purple eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Everything’s my fault,” she muttered, her voice hollow. “Everything I touch falls apart.”

You shook your head, reaching for her hand. This time, she didn’t flinch, though her fingers were cold and limp in your grasp. “That’s not true,” you said, your voice trembling with conviction. “You’re here. You’re still here. That means something, Jinx. It has to mean something.”

Her fingers twitched in yours, and for a brief moment, she squeezed your hand back. The gesture was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A tiny spark of connection in the vast, overwhelming darkness.

The airship continued its steady ascent, carrying the two of you further from the chaos you’d left behind. The silence between you was heavy but no longer unbearable, a fragile truce in the aftermath of everything lost.

You glanced out the small window of the airship, the faint lights of the cities below disappearing into the darkness. Swallowing hard, you turned back to Jinx, your voice hesitant as you asked, "Where… where are we going?"

Jinx didn’t look up right away. Her fingers idly traced the edge of the bench, smearing the dust and grime into faint streaks. After a long pause, she answered, her voice low and detached, "Far. Far from this place."

Her words felt heavy, a subtle finality to them that made your stomach twist. You searched her face, hoping to find something more—some shred of reassurance—but her expression remained guarded, her gaze distant. It was as though she were talking to herself as much as she was to you.

“Far from everything,” she added quietly, almost too soft to hear.

[wileys-russo]

filling the void (5) II a.putellas x sister!reader

prequel one two three four

warning for just like...a lot of angst? but also, some more steps forward and a little comfort filling the void (5) II a.putellas x sister!reader

"because the last time someone i loved when into hospital, he never came back."

after hearing that alexia's blood ran cold and she stepped away, wanting to give you a little privacy as her ears burned from already having heard too much.

she settled herself on the lounge trying to focus on finding something to watch, pretending like she wasn't fighting every temptation to grab you and pull you into a hug and never ever let go again.

a short while later you returned, alexia glancing at you and trying not to notice the obvious tear tracks on your face as you mumbled something about using the bathroom and darted away.

washing your face you spared no time going through your usual skin care routine, trying to shake the piercing anxiety in the back your head about your mami and her condition.

you padded into your room and with the weather taking an oddly cool turn tonight you rummaged around your wardrobe looking for your favourite hoodie.

you let out a squeal as you tugged at something and suddenly a bag tumbled down onto your head. swearing under your breath you bent down to repack its contents, making a mental note that you needed to donate the old clothes inside you'd had sitting there for far too long.

but it was something entirely unexpected that had your breath catching, having forgotten about it all together since you'd stuffed it into the bag intending to donate it alongside your clothing you'd grown out of.

you sat cross legged on the floor holding it in your hands, staring at it as memories flooded your mind and you were so caught up in them you didn't even hear alexia call out to check you were okay after hearing the thump of the bag falling.

when you didn't respond she came to check on you, her head peering around your doorway and curious hazel eyes softening as they found you. calling out again you didn't hear her, only becoming somewhat aware of your sisters presence as she carefully took a seat beside you, not too close but still enough that you knew she was there.

seeing the turmoil of emotions flashing through your eyes as you stared at it in your hands once again alexia wanted nothing more than to wrap you in a bone crushing hug and never let you go again, determined to protect you from the world and all the pain that came with it.

but the warnings of both her mami and her girlfriend echoed in her mind and she ignored the itching in her hands to reach for you, knowing that especially now more than ever she needed to let you come to her.

her own eyes falling on the object clutched tightly in your hands brought forth an entire sea of unique memories and emotions for your sister, at first taking her back to a time in which you needed her and she needed you just as much if not more.

and when you'd all lost him was a feeling that no amount of time passed would ever make alexia forget.

she'd been stood at his bed with alba by her side, holding his hand and telling him about the match she'd played that afternoon and the goal she'd scored and dedicated to him.

he'd smiled tiredly but barely had the energy to hold his eyes open let alone speak, and neither alexia or alba could stand the silence so they made sure never to allow it to grow, filling every quiet pocket with a new story or comment.

eli was sat in the chair on his other side, hand settled on his head and a watchful eye on a much younger you who was sat on the floor playing with a handful of matchbox cars, the small pieces of metal some of the only reminders you'd have of your papi as you grew older.

he had a friend at work whose wife worked in the factory where they were made, and every now and then he'd come home and gift you with a new one.

growing up a family of three kids meant you weren't always rewarded with the luxury of new toys or new books or new games, all three of you lived in hand me downs or homemade clothes for most of your childhood, not that you minded.

"fresa." eli warned softly as you made a rather loud noise mimicking an engine, smashing one of the cars into the leg of the chair you were sat by and nearly toppling it over, catching her eye and falling quiet.

you were again far too young to understand the truth of what was happening, and as you grew older your family all fell into a silent agreement that perhaps they'd kept you a little too sheltered around what was really going on.

which was why when a large group of family members arrived, visitors having been in and out all day saying their prayers or goodbyes, you looked up in confusion. you frowned as one of your tio's pinched your cheek hello and his wife gave you a weird watery smile.

your confusion grew as the crowd of people around your papi all fussed over him, some of them with tears in their eyes as one of your tia's began to pray, tightly holding your mami's hand.

"hey fresita, lets go for a walk?" you met your eldest sisters eye as she now crouched down beside you, a tired smile on her face as she sensed you were beginning to become overwhelmed at not understanding what was going on.

as you nodded your sister lifted you up and onto her hip, aware you were starting to become a little bigger and heavier but still she would hold and carry you for as long as you let her.

"my cars." you struggled for a moment in her grip as she let you down, kneeling and opening the backpack she'd packed for you when eli couldn't, zipping it up once your cars were safely inside and helping you shrug it on before picking you up again

"alba, venga hermana." alexia softly tapped her younger sisters shoulder who had moved aside to allow older family members to be by the bedside, hugging herself and stood in the corner.

eli caught her eldest daughter eye as she finished her prayer, sending her an appreciative smile before her attention was captured again and alexia left the room, you on her hip and alba tucked into her side.

not a word was said between the three of you as alexia tried to ignore the sad looks tossed your way by the nurses at the ward desk as you passed, knowing all too well which room you'd come from and the inevitable outcome which could happen any day now.

"can we get food?" you finally broke the silence, a small chuckle leaving both your sisters mouths as you all stepped into the elevator. "sí pequeña, we can get food." alexia bounced you as you smiled and nodded.

"mami usually brings snacks when we go out." the seemingly innocent and harmless comment had the air sucked right out of the confined space of the elevator, both of your sisters faces hardening.

"mami is just looking after papi right now fresa. but you will always have me and alba to look after you, vale?" alexia promised firmly, kissing your cheek as you nodded, her smile growing just slightly as you kissed her cheek in return.

"thats why you're my best friend ale." you yawned a little tiredly, head resting on her shoulder as the elevator opened now reaching the ground floor. "hey what about me?" alba protested, moving to your other side and poking at you making you grin and push her hand away.

"alexia is my best friend, you're alexias best friend, and im your best friend." you explained as alba ohh'd with an over enthusiastic nod. "what if you're not my best friend?" she teased with a smile as you frowned unhappily.

"only joking fresita, you might be annoying but you will always be my best friend." alba smiled as you huffed. "you're annoying, and old and grumpy." you stuck your tongue out which she returned.

"yeah? well when you're older and grumpier i promise to be just as annoying as you are and we'll see how you like it!" you squirmed as her fingers tickled your sides and you kicked your legs at her, alexia smiling at the interaction and kissing your head.

placing you down she gave alba some money and sent her off to the canteen to get some food for the three of you, noticing that the moment she put you down you hugged her leg, eyes roaming the hospital nervously.

she couldn't blame you, alexia hated it here and she knew what it meant. for you this was probably much more overwhelming, not understanding anything but easily able to pick up on the chaos of it all.

there were women crying, children yelling, nurses and doctors talking in serious tones with serious faces, machines beeping, weird smells, beds with wheels being pushed around and very tired looking people sleeping on them.

just last week you'd accidentally seen a man be wheeled past whose leg was split wide open down to the bone, eli barely able to cover your eyes in time as he was rushed past and you were quickly handed over to alba who raced you outside for some fresh air as your eyes filled with tears.

so as you clung to her leg and stared around clearly on the brink of distress your sister tugged gently on your collar gaining your attention as you looked up at her and she nodded her head forward, taking your hand and walking.

alexia walked the two of you in the direction of the gift store, scooping you back up onto her hip as she entered and sent the woman at the counter a small smile.

"we gettin something for papi?" you questioned with a small frown as alexia shook her head. "no, for you." she poked at your nose, soft smile growing as your face lit up. "really?" you asked happily as alexia nodded and walked the pair of you around for awhile.

"what about this?" alexia grabbed a small red bear she spied hidden beneath a pile of stuffed animals, balancing you on her hip with one hand as she held it up with the other.

"its red like a strawberry!" you chirped happily in approval making your sister laugh. "you and your strawberries. no wonder we call you fresa, you will one day turn into a strawberry." you giggled as she poked at your stomach but handed you the bear.

"will not!" "will too!" "will not!" "will too."

"what are you gonna name it nena?" alexia questioned once she'd paid for the small bear and placed you back down on your feet, one of your hands securely held in hers as the other hugged your new friend and the two of you headed toward the canteen to find alba.

"red." you stated as alexia gave you a funny look. "you are calling it red?" your sister questioned as you again nodded, giving it a kiss and tucking it under your arm.

"thats a colour though hermanita, don't you want to give it a real name?" alexia asked as you shook your head. "red is a real name! its her name." you were undeterred, spotting alba and trying to run toward her but your sisters grip on your hand prevented so.

"no running please fresa, not here." alexia warned gently as you nodded and hugged red, mumbling an apology as your sister brushed a few stray flyaway hairs out of your face.

"look!" you presented your new friend to your other sister who scooted her chair back, allowing you to climb up and into her lap as alexia sat across from her, a tray of food sat on the table in between them.

"her name is red, ale got her for me." you proudly announced as alba snickered. "red? thats just st-" the girl started, hissing as alexia kicked her under the table and shot her a warning look. "thats very cute fresita." alba looked down at your tiny hopeful face and pinched your cheek, kissing your forehead and encouraging you to eat.

once the three of you finished your food you made your way back toward the room, your new little friend working wonders to brighten your mood as you chattered your sisters ears off, your hand again held tightly in alexias much larger one to stop you running off.

though as you all arrived and alexia heard the sound of eli's sobs, clearly taking a private moment with her husband now she was alone with him, alexia stopped in her tracks as her stomach lurched hearing the foreign noise.

of course everyone had cried the moment he fell sick, even more when despite the best efforts it was deemed terminal and there was no longer anything that could be done, it was just a matter of waiting as the days passed and his condition deteriorated.

knowing that not with bad intentions your chatter and questions would likely make things worse alexia didn't continue forward, exchanging a look with alba as they held a quick silent conversation and nodded in agreement.

"hey i wanna see mami and papi." you frowned as alexia turned and headed back for the elevator, near dragging you with her now as you fought to tug your hand free.

"i wanna show them red! ale stop, let go!" your sister winced at the sob you let out when she didn't do as you asked. instead she pulled you with her and alba back to the elevator, your cries echoing throughout the ward as alba nudged her and as soon as alexia let go you tried to run but alba was faster.

"no! put me down! no no!" you struggled in her grip, your arms pinned to your side as you tried hitting out at her, not understanding why they wouldn't let you go back to the room as instead you were back in the elevator again.

"hey hey fresa, look at me nena por favor." your body heaved as you sniffled and choked back a sob, alexia cradling your face in her heads which had gone bright red. "breathe hermana, in and out." she cooed softly as you hiccuped and shook your head.

"i wanna see mami!" you choked out, alba rubbing gently at your back. "mami needs some adult time with papi, you can see her later promesa." alexia promised, swiping at the tears which leaked from the corners of your eyes.

"now." you huffed stubbornly as alexia shook her head. "no fresa, later. there is a garden here, do you want to go see it?" you hesitated at that, albas hand still rubbing at your back as you slowly nodded.

"okay. now can you breathe please hermanita? in and out." again your sister demonstrated as you copied, yours a little shakier as by the time you all exited the elevator you'd calmed yourself down a little with her help.

the three of you walked in silence out to the small courtyard garden in the middle of the hospital, alba putting you down as her and alexia sat down at a bench and you wandered off with red still in their sights.

a sniffle broke the silence which still grew between them, alexia glancing to her side to see her younger sister wiping at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve, head turned away from her.

"ven aquí hermana." alexia spoke softly, lifting her arm and pulling the younger girl into a tight hug, her head resting on alexia's shoulder as the sniffles continued, the eldest putellas fighting back tears of her own knowing now she needed to be strong.

alba hurried to try and hide her tears as you returned but you'd already seen them, frowning up at her as she tried to smile. "you sad?" you asked your sister as alexia lifted you up to stand on the bench in between them.

"a little, estoy bien." alba assured with another sniffle, taken a little off guard as you launched at her, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck. "its okay to be sad al." you patted her back making both girls smile.

you had always been an affection person especially when you were younger, your entire family quite affectionate it was no surprise but it was during this time that your hugs meant that little bit more even if you were too young to realise why.

"gracias fresita, te quiero." alba whispered, more tears welling up at the gesture as you hugged her tightly, red clutched in one hand. alexia watched on with a fond smile, still swallowing her own emotions and pushing them down for the sake of her sisters.

she was the eldest, it was her job to look after the two of you and make sure you were okay first, her needs came second and she was fine with that if it meant you and alba were as okay as you could be and knew that she would be there for both of you anytime and anyway needed.

but that didn't mean that you both didn't pick up on her needs every now and then too. which is exactly why when you deemed alba was okay your small form latched onto alexia next, arms slung around her neck as she squeezed you.

"estoy bien pequeña." alexia assured as you let go, your sister moving you to stand on her knees as your hands grabbed at her shoulders to steady yourself. "everyone needs a hug sometimes and you said mine are the best." you reminded making both girls chuckle.

"i did say that didn't i? and they are the very best fresa, the very very best."

your papi passed away in his sleep that night, and it was more than assured to say that your hugs were in high high demand.

"red." you finally spoke, still looking down at the bear in your hands as alexia hummed, meeting your eyes and sending you a small smile before your gaze dropped again.

a soft smile curled into your own features as your finger traced over the faded red bear, tugging gently at the small sweater which it wore that of course had a strawberry right in the centre. "i remember when abuela knitted that." alexia spoke up again nodding to the item of clothing.

"mami had to hand wash it because i kept trying to feed red strawberries and got it all dirty." you puffed air from your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you could manage now still swamped beneath the symphony of memories, thoughts and feelings washing down over you.

"abuela gave it to me at papi's funeral." you remembered, thumb rubbing small circles against a particularly faded patch of fur, just as you used to do whenever you were nervous about something and much much younger, always having red with you through it all.

another bout of silence fell between you two until eventually alexia decided to test the waters.

"can i ask you something hermana?" your sister asked gently as you nodded, still focused down on the bear in your hands not having paid it a single thought for a long time now, the moment you started to feel your sisters pulling away had red shoved out of sight as well, a little too painful in a different way all together than you had felt before.

"is it because of him that you don't want to go and see mami in hospital?" alexia didn't even need to specify who as your stomach clenched uncomfortably and the anxiety returned, your chest tightening a little.

you took a moment and for a second alexia feared she'd crossed a line, readying an apology but you nodded before she could say another word, a cocktail of both sadness and relief flooding her body.

"but i don-" you looked up and started as your sister shook her head, tentatively reaching a hand out to rest it on your shoulder, again relieved when you made no move to push it off.

"we do not need to talk about it now if you don't want to. but i meant what i said, you will always have me to look after you hermana. i have not been very good at showing that lately and i do not know how else to say sorry with words-" her hand moved slowly to rest on your cheek and again you made no move to push her away.

"-but i have to let my actions show it now. and i love you fresa, very much. mami will be okay, but i promise you that you would never ever be alone." you could only give a stiff nod at her words, your sister sensing you were slightly overwhelmed and removing her hand, slowly getting up to her feet.

"buenas noches hermana, i am just down the hall if you need anything." alexia promised softly as again you nodded, sending her a tiny smile but even that was reward enough for alexia as she left you and headed for her childhood room.

as everything crashed down on you your body plunged into exhaustion, forcing yourself up and kicking aside the bag of clothes, tiredly rubbing your eyes and closing your bedroom door with a soft click.

nobody would know but you, but as you slipped into bed and flicked off your lamp, red was clutched tightly in your hands as your eyes slammed shut and you fell into a dreamless sleep.

alexia on the other hand was wide awake, wandering around her childhood room which felt like a time capsule, hardly changed since the day she moved out.

rummaging through her wardrobe she froze seeing a faded nike box pushed up against the back, hidden behind a stack of old textbooks which she quickly moved out of the way, coughing slightly as she blew off the thin layer of dust which coated the top.

taking a seat on her bed she placed the box down in front of her, gingerly opening the top and her body going limp as it was confirmed the contents were indeed what she thought they might be.

before she had time to rifle through and look at anything her phone rang and she jumped in surprise, her girlfriends contact name and number flashing across the screen as alexia clicked answer.

"hola mi amor." the older girl greeted which was returned, the two catching up about their days as olga pretended not to notice that part of alexia asking so many questions about her girlfriends day was to avoid speaking much about hers.

though with some gentle prompting she opened up a little, olga listening attentively as she did. "red is an adorable name." olga chuckled in an attempt to ease the obvious emotional discourse the blonde was feeling after she'd explained the backstory to the small bear.

"its a colour, not a name mi vida." "you could argue that fresa is a fruit, not a name amor." olga countered, stunning alexia into silence for a moment. "see? you cannot disagree." her girlfriend laughed as alexia sighed but agreed none the less.

"then i found a box in my wardrobe, i forgot it was there but i tore my room apart when i moved trying to find it to take with me and i thought someone had thrown it away." alexia admitted as olga hummed.

"its my fresa box." the blonde murmured quietly, switching her girlfriend to facetime and propping her phone up on the nightstand and moving around a little.

"your fresa box?" olga encouraged her to elaborate but gently, not wanting to push her as she could clearly see the pain masked in her lovers eyes, her poker face unreadable to most but olga could always see right through it.

"sí. it has notes, drawings, holiday cards, pictures, all things she gave and made me when she was little." a fond smile curled into alexia's features as she carefully rifled through the box, holding things up to show her girlfriend whose own face was filled with joy at the sight.

"fresa wrote all of that?" olga asked with raised eyebrows and a grin as alexia finished reading out an essay you'd had to write in school about your hero, and you'd chosen alexia.

"oh mi amor." olgas tone softened seeing the singular tear escaped the corner of her lovers eye, quickly wiped away as alexia cleared her throat. "hey, ale. don't do that, you don't need to run away from your feelings with me." olga promised as alexia attempted to change subject.

"i just-" alexia tried to speak but could only shake her head, no words coming out despite just how much she had to say. "you miss her cariño, sí?" olga echoed softly as alexia nodded.

"and this is probably how she has felt if not worse when she thought alba and i did not care about her anymore. i made her feel like this! my fresa." alexia managed out, eyes squeezed shut as she inhaled shakily, her girlfriend encouraging her to breathe slowly while still assuring it was okay for her to feel this way, it was okay for her to cry.

"she loves you alexia, she always will. you know how you made her feel which is why you will not let it happen again, and you have the rest of your life to prove that to her amor." olga promised sincerely as alexia nodded, wiping quickly at the corner of her eye with the collar of her shirt.

"i remember this." alexia was even faster to change topics, grabbing out a drawing as her girlfriend watched three or four different emotions flicker through her hazel eyes before she turned the page.

"your tattoo." olga smiled in recognition as alexia nodded, the drawing in question one you'd done for her not long after juame had passed and you'd returned to school, still not quite understanding that he wouldn't be coming home again.

alexia's head was covered with a hood, ignoring the pitying looks of the parents around her who had obviously heard what happened, hoping the scowl on her face would ward off any attempts at talking to her.

though it melted the moment she locked eyes with you, unable to resist smiling at the way your eyes lit up and you sprinted toward her, seemingly never any less excited to see her despite the fact she picked you up from school practically every day.

"catch me!" alexia bent down and scooped you up as you dropped your backpack and leapt at her, but she didn't spin you around like normal and gently pushed away your hand when you tried to pull her hood down to see her properly.

"you're not going to football?" you asked a little confused as why your sister wasn't dressed for training like normal and she shook her head wordlessly, grabbing your backpack in her free hand and quickly leaving before anyone had the chance to try and talk to her.

though apparently she wasn't fast enough as someone called out her name and she sighed recognizing your teacher waving her down as she lingered at the school gates and contemplated for a moment just making a run for it.

"stay here please fresa." you were placed back down on your feet and the oddly serious tone of your sisters voice had you rooted in place as alexia stepped away for a moment to speak with your teacher.

"lo siento for the bother alexia, i was going to call your mami but i am sure there is a lot going on at home." the woman started gently as alexia gave a tight lipped smile and crossed her arms across her chest, keeping one eye on you over the womans shoulder as one of your classmates had wandered over to chat with you.

"look i just-your hermana drew something in class today, a picture of your family." the woman started as alexia's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "she draws every day." her reply was sharp, clearly thinking this was a waste of time.

"no no lo siento, a picture of all your family. i complimented her on it and she said it was all of you in heaven visiting your papi, and that she really hoped you would all be able to go there to see him there soon." the womans words were much softer now and concern was clear in her eyes for what the younger girls reaction would be who stayed silent.

"i didn't want to overstep by correcting her. but alexia, if you or your familia need anything, please know i am here." the woman promised as alexia swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded, mumbling out a quiet gracias and turning quickly to head back toward you.

"venga fresa." your sister held her hand out which you grabbed, waving goodbye to your friends as the two of you left the school, alexia stuck in her thoughts and only half listening as you started to chatter on about your day as you always would.

"ale." she came to at a tug on her sleeve, looking down at you. "lo siento nena, what did you need?" she stopped walking and bent down to your height with a tired smile which didn't reach her eyes as you pointed to your backpack.

presenting it to you you unzipped it, shoving your arm in and feeling around with a frown before pulling out an apple as alexia made a face. "fresa i packed this for you on monday!" she cringed plucking it from your hand and glancing around before tossing it into a bush.

"i drew this for you." you finally found what you were looking for, offering her a piece of paper. swallowing hard alexia's eyes roamed the artwork and a lump formed in her throat as your teachers words came to fruition.

"its you and me and alba and mami and papi in heaven! you were sad this morning so i drew it for you. maybe we can go see papi in heaven today? i did a drawing for him too." your little face was filled with such innocence and hope it crushed alexia's heart like someone ran over her with a truck as she wanted to throw up.

"no lo siento fresa, we can't go see papi in heaven. but lets go for a walk in the park pequeña, i think we need to have a big girl talk."

"you had to explain heaven to her?" olga asked in disbelief as alexia sighed with a small shrug.

"someone had to. we all agreed as she got older we should have done more when he was sick to explain what was happening but...she was just so little, so happy, so innocent." alexia breathed out with a pained wince.

"she went out of her way even if she didn't understand why everyone was sad to try and cheer us up, i needed her and alba just as much as they needed me. mami was...she was grieving amor. she did her best but there was slack and i picked it up, i had to be there for them." alexia forced out a small smile as olga's face softened.

"but mi corazón, who was there for you?" the girl asked softly as alexia sighed again, fingers instinctively tucking under her shirt to trace the tattoo on her ribs.

the five of you in stick figure form holding hands, your drawing for your sister which was now and would always be with alexia inked to her skin, forever.

~

your day hadn't started as you'd hoped.

when you woke up your sleep last night had been anything but restful, waking up multiple times throughout the night as your chest tightened with anxiety the back of your eyes ached with exhaustion.

you'd quickly called in sick to work, a small smile on your face as your boss had joked he was almost going to cancel your shift if you didn't slow down to look after yourself before promising you'd be able to take all the time you needed.

word spread quickly through the clinic as texts of support poured in from your friends and coworkers, all encouraging you reach out should you need anything which you were very grateful for.

when your door was still closed two hours after you were supposed to have left for work alexias own body relaxed a little, relieved you were finally taking a day for yourself and stepping outside onto the balcony to have a coffee and make a few phone calls.

your sister was surprised that when she returned you were awake, your back to her as you made a coffee of your own. though soon as it was done with a tired smile you headed back to your own room again.

alexia gave you your own space until lunch time, knocking at your door as you responded and she pushed it open.

"do you want to go get sushi for lunch?" your sister questioned, knowing you hadn't eaten all day she already had back ups in mind if you declined but to her shock you gave her a nod, asking for some time to shower and change.

you didn't say a word the entire car ride clearly lost in your own head, barely batting an eyelash as alexia pulled up in front of alba's house and your sister joined you in the car, sharing a look with alexia who subtly shook her head, the radio filling the silence of the journey.

but as you turned down a familiar road you seemed to come more to attention, pulling your head off the window and frowning, a small scoff leaving your mouth as alexia pulled into the hospital parking complex.

"funny looking sushi restaurant." you muttered sinking into your seat once alexia found a park. "i can't believe you lied to me." you shook your head angrily at the deception.

"i didn't. we will get sushi hermana, just after you see mami." alexia decreed as you shook your head again and crossed your arms. "im not getting out of the car." you refused stubbornly as alexia sighed.

"you will." "i won't." "you will." "i won't." "you will." "i won't."

"this is ridiculous. fresa, get out of the car!" alba intervened as you glanced to the back seat and shot her a filthy look which didn't deter her.

"alba." alexia gave her a look of her own as she backed down and got out of the car herself, closing the door and leaving you with your eldest sister.

"she's awake."

your head snapped sideways to look at her with a frown. "you're lying." you decided as alexia shook her head. "no, the hospital called me this morning. but i wanted to give you a little time to yourself first before we came, but she is awake and stable fresa, i promise." alexia assured softly as you wrenched your eyes away.

"she's not going anywhere hermanita, but we shouldn't keep her waiting, she's still very tired." alexia added on, reaching over to gently squeeze your knee before she opened her door.

you watched for a few minutes as your sisters spoke with one another, clearly about you as they glanced back to the car every few seconds with a shake or a nod, likely planning to drag you from the car themselves if you refused much longer.

so with an exhausted exhale you unbuckled yourself, hauling ass out of the car and closing the door, wordlessly following after your sisters toward the hospital.

the closer you got the more your stomach twisted and clearly your apprehension was written across your face as your sisters slowed just slightly to fall into step with you, now both stood protectively either side of your shorter form.

"can i go by myself?" you asked quietly as you all signed in and arrived to the coronary ward, glancing past them both to eli's room as they shared a look. "sure hermana, we'll be right out here if you need anything." alba promised as you nodded and they stepped aside, your legs feeling like jelly the closer you got to her room as they hung back watching you go.

it was as if you were a balloon and someone stuck a pin in you the moment you entered her room and caught her eye, deflating entirely and crumpling as you dragged yourself to her bed side.

"mami." you managed to whisper out, dropping into the chair by her side as she smiled tiredly and reached for you, your face buried into her shoulder as her hands cradled your head.

"mi hija pequeña." she spoke, her voice flooding your body with relief as tears welled up and you hugged her tightly, though still very carefully as you were more than away of the amount of wires which protruded from her skin.

"you're okay." you whispered again as you pulled back and wiped your eyes, eli smiling with a nod. "i am okay. not going anywhere hija, takes more than that to kill me." you knew it was a joke but you frowned, the older woman apologizing and pushing a loose strand of hair out of your eyes.

"i was so scared mami. you just...you collapsed, you weren't breathing, i didn't know what to do or how to help." your voice broke as you forced back the tears which were clawing their way up.

"but you did help fresita, you did everything right. but i am so sorry for scaring you mi hija, lo siento mucho." eli apologised, voice full of remorse as you shook your head dismissing it.

"no. i am just glad you're okay mami." you promised, taking her outstretched hand, your intertwined fingers resting on her mattress. at her request you filled her in on everything that had been going on the last few days, not leaving out many details as you never did, always the most honest with the woman you trusted more than anyone.

"oh nena i am not going anywhere, i promise." the womans own eyes near filled with tears as you managed to force out the story of finding red and all the turmoil of memories which had surfaced being back at the hospital all those years ago.

"mi fresa. i need to tell you some things, about some of my regrets in life." eli spoke softly, giving your hand a squeeze as you frowned in confusion but nodded for her to continue.

"even before your papi was sick i worked a lot, so did he. we needed the money so i took up night work, so did he. it meant i relied on your hermana's to look after each other but mostly after you, you were still so young and...well to look after someone that age can be a lot." eli started gently as you nodded for her to go on.

"then when your papi was sick i relied on them more, alexia especially. your hermana did for you things i should have done for you as your mami, she shouldered the responsibilities of a parent when she was barely a teenager and that was not fair on her fresa, i was not fair to put her in that position." eli paused to cough as you hurried to help her sit up a little more and grab her a glass of water which she sipped at and placed back down.

"when your papi passed i was grieving heavily, we all were. but again, alexia had responsibilities on her shoulders that were far too heavy, far too much for a teenager and a daughter herself. she took on not only her grief but also mine, and alba's, and yours, she stepped in when i pulled back. your hermana pushed her grief down and bottled up her feelings to care for everyone elses, she has always done so." eli explained again squeezing your hand.

"in a way i stole part of alexia's youth with how much responsibility was put on her, i never ever meant to, and i do not blame anyone but myself for not noticing sooner. it is something i have to learn to live with, and that your sister will never understand, to her its just...how it was, how she needed to be." eli continued as you stayed silent letting her speak.

"but fresa, alexia loves you more than anyone in the entire world, she has from the very second you were born. you were a gift to this family and alexia has always maybe looked at you as a little more than her hermana. i am not excusing how your sisters made you feel mi fresita, but if you hear them out you might find they did not mean to make you feel that way." eli seemed to finish with that as you could only nod, choking back tears and afraid if you attempted to speak that dam would break all together.

"so promise me you will hear them out." you again nodded at that, eli raising your adjoined hands to her mouth and softly kissing your hand before you leaned in to hug her again, head resting against her chest and closing your eyes, memorizing the sound of her heartbeat as her hand ran through your hair.

"te quiero hija mia."

~

promising to be back tomorrow and to send your sisters in next you'd quickly darted off to the bathroom to rinse your face and take a moment to yourself, overwhelmed with emotion as you bit down on your shirt to stop your sobs being audible.

after a few minutes you'd calmed enough to regulate your breathing, rinsing your face again and exhaling, wincing at your reflection but leaving the ward bathroom.

you found alba sat where you'd left her, alexia nowhere to be seen.

"i think she went to call olga." alba shrugged as you questioned her whereabouts, checking you were okay as you nodded and she hurried off to see eli, all of you having been warned by the doctor that having just woken up she would obviously be exhausted and likely need to rest soon.

you waited around for awhile but when alexia didn't return you decided to look for her, eventually seeing the back of her tall figure at the end of the hallway where there was a small kitchenette with tea and coffee for visistors, nobody else around.

though as you grew closer you soon realised why your sister had made sure that was the case, hearing the tears in her voice as she held the phone to her ear.

"-and sí i know mami is okay now but its just bringing back all of the memories from before and i was so worried that she would not wake up and-" feeling eyes on her back you shrunk as alexia's head whipped around and spotted you.

quickly murmuring something and hanging up the phone she furiously wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, trying to cover up the fact she'd been crying as she sent you a forced smile.

"how was-" alexia didn't get another word out before you'd closed the gap between the two of you and your body barreled into hers, your arms wrapping around her in a tight hug as your sister almost fell over not having expected this in a million years.

it took a moment for her to register what was happening before her arms wrapped around you in turn, your face pressed into her shoulder as the two of you just held one another in silence, both needing it just as much as the other did.

"i love you alexia."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

six

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: From Party of Two, to Family of Three

Sunday Surprise takes place right before this, but not necessary for this part

notes: you guys already know this is my favorite little crackhead family. While we've been enjoying Sarah's adventures out of order for a while, lot of people have been asking when we'll meet Ellie. Which I didn't feel it was right until we actually see Sarah's birth! So here she is. Please enjoy!

warnings: childbirth (not too graphic), a shit ton of language, comedy and fuff

- - - -

They say childbirth is a miracle. It's the single greatest, most amazing, most heavenly, life giving, breath of fresh air day of any parent’s life.

What they don't say (almost as if conveniently forgetting to even mention it) is that the moments leading up to the birth are the single most excruciating, marathon through the worst hell of a nightmare.

"YOUUU. YOUUUUUU MOTHER FUCKING--FUUCCKKEERRRR!!" The banshee (his wife, you) next to him in the car screeches directly into his ear, a death grip on his forearm.

He’s one handing these turns, blowing more red lights than he's ever yelled at Tommy for, while ready to lose his right hand to your talons and his hearing to your incessant wails.

"fuck YOU!OOOOWWAHAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

You squeeze your eyes shut, head crouched down while another wave of contractions splinters your insides apart. Every muscle known and unknown in your body is engaged. 

"We're almost there, you’re gonna make it--"

"YouFUCKINGfuckSTICkofaFuCkFuckshitheadfuckingbastard mothershitstainfrigginFUCK!"

You'd bash his head against his window repeatedly if your other hand wasn't already occupied cupping your rupturing belly.

Joel’s never been simultaneously in control and losing it inside all at once. He’s got one goal right now: get you to the hospital in one piece.

 That goes for driver safety but also to ensure the baby does NOT come out prior that because lord help him he would not know what comes next.

The truck screeches to a halt at the parking lot in 3 spaces. Joel tumbles out of the seat, missing a step and stumbling clumsily to his hands and knees on the pavement. He doesn’t even brush off the bruises and dirt as he’s running to you. You’ve nearly thrown him over again by how fast you swing the door open.

Both his sturdy, reliable, big hands are there for you when you take them, hoisting yourself with an agonizing yelp.

“You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay, baby momma, you’re—“

“FUCK!!!!!”

You’re clutching your belly, now way lower than it ever has been. Each step feels like fire, with Joel cradling your back and trying to get you to the front door with quick steps.

“Baby! Baby now!” Joel shouts, pointing to you with wild and pleading eyes.

You let out a horrendous scream, stopping in your tracks. Your spine, your bones, your head, and especially your stomach, is all being hit by a truck right fucking now. And you’re crying, you’ve never cried like this. It’s not the fake shit he’s gotten so accustomed to when you want a cookie or milkshake or pussy eating. This is real.

They get you in a chair and wheel you off to the delivery unit, your hand squeezing the shit out of Joel’s but he’s never once let go. He’s gone so pale, running and running alongside you, trying to answer their questions about when it started, how long, what was due date, etc. 

He’s doing a million things at once, and you’re just fighting to stay alive.

Oh, you also would forget everything you were saying at this moment. But thankfully, Joel, and the entire fucking hospital, wouldn’t.

“YOU FUCKING, COCK—FUCKER—SHIT FUCKCUnt cunt CUNT! FUCK-OHM Y MOTHERFUCKING GOD FUCK.”

They manage to get you stripped to the papery gown, push your ass onto the bed, spread you wide so the doctor can take a look.

They’re all so calm, walking around and nodding, hooking you up like you’re just here for a checkup, like they’ve done this a thousand times before.

Joel feels the worst stabbing pain along his skull as your nails dig into his hair and yank him down to your face.

“MILLER,” you seethe, venom and sweat breaking through your clenched teeth and slitted eyes. 

“Y-yes?”

You force out harsh pants, groaning, but making sure he understands you clearly right fucking now. “Give me. A fucking. Epidural.”

“I-“

“NOW!!!!”

He looks around for some assistance. “Ep—is there an--”

“WHERES THE FUCKING EPIDURAL.”

Joel makes contact with the nurse, who checks below your legs again before resurfacing with the look Joel feared above all else. While you’re heaving and and moaning in pain, Joel receives the nonverbal confirmation she passes to him:

It’s too fucking late for an epidural.

Both Joel and the nurse also pass a clear, mutual understanding about how to pass that info on to you:

“ITS COMING!” He nods reassuringly to you, exceedingly over the top acting. “Right nurse? See she said it’s coming!”

“Any second now, we’ll get that epidural—“ she agrees, nodding and nodding with a thumbs up to you extra confidence.

“FUUUUCCCCKCKKKKKK,” you sink lower, back falling and head tossed as wave of new pain ripples through you.

“FUUCCKKING —Fuck J-Joel. Joel Miller—“

“yes baby, I’m here.”

“Im getting a fucking epidural.”

“Yes you fucking are.”

“You fuckers aren’t lying to me?”

Joel glances at the nurse again, who quickly shakes her head at you with her calm, straightforward, trusting voice of reason: “No ma’am we would never.”

Praise this woman, he thinks. “That’s right baby she’s telling ya, its coming—“

“I’ll FUCKING kill you, Joel Miller. Do you know that?”

“Yes-“

“I fucking HATE you right now.”

“Yes—“

“You shit—fuck bag motherfucker, I HATE you—you—you—“ and you start sobbing “—did this to me!”

“I did—“

“YOU!”

“ME.”

Back again to an angered, snarling beast, you growl, “I’ll rip your fucking cock off. I’m fucking you up so fucking bad when we get home, you can never FUCKIN’ do this fucking shit to me again. Balls in the fucking blender.”

“Balls in the blender,” he repeats with absolute conviction, not an ounce of protest in him.

“The FUCkING blender—you hear me fucker?”

“The fucking blender, for sure baby, anything you want right after this.”

“Ugh--oh dfuck Joel its coming!”

“Yeah?” He asks, and its the first time he hears his own voice waver. Holy fuck this is it. This is the moment for the last 9 months its actually here—

“Just another contraction,” the doctor confirms casually.

FUCK DOC HOW LONG DOES THIS TAKE I can’t feel my skull!

“CUNT SUCKER!” You scream, holding Joel’s head hostage as you chant through your breathing pants.

“Any where’s my MOTHERFUCKING epidural!”

“It’s coming! It’s coming!” Joel nods to his now best friend nurse, who’s also nodding dramatically to keep you distracted from the epidural that is absolutely not on its way.

“Miller,” you growl, shoving his nose right against yours. You stare into his very soul, like Death herself ripping his life choices out of his body and spilling them under your eyes. “I think that Bitch is lying to me. There’s no fucking epidural coming, is there.”

“There is, baby, she said it herself, I checked…”

“Are you fucking lying to me Miller?”

“Never baby, we’d never lie to you, right?” He gestures to the nurse again, who nods diligently again. “See baby, no lying, we’d never lie.”

He watches your jaw drop, voice disappear as another roar is ripped from your chest..

“I can’t do this.”

“You can, you can and will. I’ll give you anything you want, right after you do this.”

“I want you fucking DEAD.”

“Sure thing. Want a divorce too?”

“I’m CONSIDERING IT,” you bark a baritone lower like the devil. “FuuuUUUCCCKKKK!!!!!”

“I’ll get the papers printed right up. Favorite pen signed an’ all. But only after you have this baby tonight—“

The doctor checks the monitor again just as you let out a piercing scream. 

“Ma’am it’s time to push.”

“YOU PUSH!” You shout, waving your arm at him but unable to put a curse to the end of it. Your pains are coming through quicker, no longer waves but an unyielding rumbling as the baby kicks and punches and squirms and—

Joel is by your side, taking your hand in his. He’s prepped this speech in his head a million times, every night, every time he felt that baby kick or watched you struggle to tie your shoes, every single second, he’s perfected it:

“It’s here. Its happening. You’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this together, you and me, right now—“

“Nope.”

“We—what?”

Your voice is calm and face plain. “Changed my mind. Not having this baby.”

“Yes you for fucking sure are.”

“Nope no. I’m returning it. Got the receipt.”

“There—there IS NO RECEIPT.”

“Yes—I got it—90 day warranty—“ your face tightens, clenching out the last word as if you’re mentally willing this baby to not pop out right now. But by god this baby is not taking your bullshit any longer.

“We are way past the 90 day warranty, honey, you’re having this baby, TODAY, Right NOW!”

“Nope, nope I’m gonna suck it back in!” 

It seems all ability to ‘suck it back in’ has failed, as the nurse shouts clearly “I see a head!”

Your voice breaks in the most heart wrenching “I CAN’T—“ you sob, terror in your voice.

You scream again, and it’s the worst thing Joel’s ever heard. He feels like a kid again, for the first time in a long while, when his parents fought, and the sounds of their voices carried upstairs to his and Tommy’s bedroom. He wanted to run, hide in the closet, cover his ears, cradling himself and rock back and forth, shut his eyes and his mind out, drain everything away. Instead, he held Tommy, he watched Tommy, he calmed Tommy. He bared the brunt of it, and the fear, he learned to control it.

The control is gone. He’s fearing again. And it’s not his parents having an argument over watermelon seeds, but his wife experiencing the most unimaginable pain right now, and it’s because of him, it really is, just like you said. Worse than nails on a chalkboard, glass in his eyes, fire on his feet. He’s so scared, everything he had tried to train for, for you, for this moment, is collapsing before him, and he’s not gonna make it—

Every fiber in his body grips your hand more tightly than possible. “You can,” he says, sturdy yet trembling. He’s scared.

He’s always known what to do, what comes next, how to make your pain and sadness and tears go away. He’s perfected it, knowing what to get you or what to say to make it all better, but now?  He doesn’t know what comes next. Doesn’t know how to make it stop, help you through it, take your worries and griefs—you’re on your own and he’s just next to you, and its not enough, and he can’t help, and he doesn’t know what to do—He doesn’t know what to do-Hedoesntknowwhattodo!

“Hey.”

He feels a gentle hand on his shoulder; the nurse who’s holding all the pieces of his heart and sanity together. She looks at him, focused, locked in from the moment your wailing, miserable self was wheeled in here, and has been doing everything he can’t.

“We’re right there. I need you to ground her,” she says. “Can you do that?”

He nods, tightening his lips. He remembers your hand in his now, remembers where he is, in this moment, and its all the matters.

He’s here. And he wants—needs you to know he’s not going anywhere.

He calls your name. “It’s time, okay baby?” Steady. Reassuring. Level headed. Strong. Rock. Crutch. Love. Everything he’s good at. Everything you know him by. “I need you to push.”

You shake your head again, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenching hard. But he nods, because he’s gonna do the nodding, and the yes’ing, and he’s gonna take everything that’s ever caused you wrong or pain or sadness away because it’s what he does.

It’s what makes him keep going.

“FUCK! MOTHER———MOTHERFUCKER!!!!AHHHHHHHHH!!”

“Keep going!” The nurse encourages. “Dad, you’re doing great, keep getting her to focus—“

“I’M NOT GETTING MY FUCKING EPIDURAL!!!!!!!!!!!!” You sob in finality, the truth seeping into your bones. “YOU FUCKING—MOTHERFUCKING CUNNT SHIT STICK LITTLE BI—“ 

“For Christ’s sake, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” The nurse howls, and the entire room goes silent, even you. Joel stares at her dumbfounded. 

‘“The baby. Is HERE,” she huffs definitively. 

“Now fucking—PUSH!”

 - 

Joel’s heart has stopped. 

He doesn’t know where it is, but he knows it’s no longer in his body. 

Its not until he hears the first, most beautifully devastating croak of an angelic cry that he’s felt his heartbeat resume again, and its being cradled gently by the nurse as she pulls the tiniest, wrinkliest, most precious thing on this planet from between your legs.

“Congratulations, mom and dad. A healthy, happy baby girl.”

There’s no way this little—thing—this… bean—can be a baby. It’s the size of both his hands together, and so incredibly delicate, my god, weighing almost nothing and yet the sheer weight of who she is has him nearly capsizing at this very moment.

She’s wrapped delicately in cloth, face and nostrils wiped of fluids before landing gracefully in your outstretched arms. And it’s like the cosmos has realigned in harmony.

No amount of sweat, tears, crazy hair and braised skin, torn clothing and achy muscles could possibly deter the absolute love bursting from your chest as you hold the tiny baby in your grasp. “Hi,” you whimper with a big smile, eyes floating in a shiny haze pf exhaustion and happiness, looking down upon her. “Hi baby girl.” you laugh, tears falling freely as you shake your head and hold her closer, as close as possible, reabsorbing her into your bare chest, and you feel it. Her skin on yours. You’ve carried her this entire time, and yet it’s like you’re feeling her for the first time in your life.

Joel curls next to you, his big palm splayed over top her whole body, touching her. And it’s the first time, the first time he’s felt his daughter. He had been separated by the membrane of your belly, anxiously, excitedly waiting all this time to meet her, and now she’s here. She’s here. Neither one of you can believe it.

Your little baby wiggles, cooing noise stuck in her throat as she settles from her cries. she’s so wrinkly, skin still absorbing all that fresh air, working color into those cheeks and hands, fingers and toes. Her eyes are too swollen, not yet ready to say hi to this world. But that’s okay. Because her mom and dad are still going to be right here when she wakes up, the first people who will introduce her to the world around her. Because she is their world.

“Joel,” you whisper softly. He hears you. He’s here. He hasn’t left your side once. You know he’s here, you’re grateful. He’s here. He loves you. 

“Joel,” you hum again. “She’s beautiful.”

You tremble against him. Shaken from love and joy, more than your entire achy body can contain as you bring her little head to your lips and press the most fulfilling kiss to her.

Joel cups her little head. He wants to hold her, but he’s gotta wait. Fuck after all this time, he’s gotta wait. And it’s enough. He can handle it because he’s so fucking overwhelmed that she’s finally here.

“She’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” he rasps into your hair, kissing you tenderly.

Joel steps outside the room, softly closing the door behind him. He watches from the glass window pane, with you perfectly framed in the center as its only subject. Just the way he’s seen the world every day since he met you. 

Only this time, you hold another part of you, and him, in your arms.  The two of you, together. Like the only things that will ever matter to him.

And suddenly, Joel lets himself feel it all.

He clutches his mouth with the entirety of his palm, his yelp buzzing in his hoarse throat. He feels his knees give way, tumbling to the ground, one hand holding the wall while the other grips his face to keep the cries at bay. And he cries. He cries harder than he’s ever cried, and they’re wonderful. They hurt like kisses, burn like candy, ache like love. 

He wants to go back in there.

Quickly wiping his face clean, he stands up, straightening himself.

“Hey.”

The nurse who had delivered his baby stands next to him.

“She did fantastic. You both did.”

Joel tries to clear his throat, but his face is so obviously still red, swollen and barely holding it together. She doesn’t question nor judge the tough guy facade, yet completely speaks to his soul, telling him everything he didn’t know he needed to hear. “She’s 7 pounds, 2 ounces. Ten fingers and toes. Brown eyes. Hearing is great, so is—“

“Thank you,” he interrupts.

She goes quiet but offers a gentle smile. 

As he stares at her, the literal saint that got you and his baby through this, from point A to B, he realizes  nothing is coming to his head.

“I’m sorry, I … I don’t even know your name.”

She laughs. “I would not expect you to. You had way more to worry about.”

“Well, I just … really, really wanted to say…. Thank you…”

“Sarah,” she responds.

“Sarah,” he repeats. He repeats it over and over again in his mind, as if its going to stick, and he doesn’t quite know why yet.

“I’ll give you two—three, some time together,” she says, gathering the checkerboard hanging by the wall. “Then I’ll be back to help get her ready to take home, and let your wife sleep some more.”

He nods, looking down then back up, just as she’s patting his shoulder reassuringly and turning away to attend her other duties.

-

When he steps back inside, you look up to him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he whispers back. Now that the dust has settled, he can finally see just how exhausted you are. The absolute train wreck that has battered your body this last hour really settling in, and it makes his chest sore to see you like that. Your gown pulled halfway down to your ribcage, tousled hair sticking awkwardly to your forehead and back from all the dried sweat. And yet none of it, absolutely nothing, is getting in the way of that smile that hasn’t left your cheeks since the moment you heard her cry.

“She’s sleeping,” you hum, looking back down at your daughter, who’s coddled up in a wrap and little cap.

“You thinking about putting the baby down, getting some sleep too?”

“Never.”

He smirks, looking down at her again.

“You think about any names yet?” You ask, stroking over her little forehead.

The two of you had thought about it. A lot. You didn’t want it to be random, but you didn’t want it to be weird. It had to have meaning, but not so closely related to a family member that you’d always mess them up at thanksgiving. It had to remind you of someone strong, unique, purposeful but distant enough that she could to grow and make it her own. 

And this was a girl, after all, so it had to be someone that could put momma AND papa in their place whenever shit got too crazy. 

“I’ve got…one.”

-

Joel helps dress the baby from her swaddled blanket into clothes.

“They’re gonna be a little bit big at first—“ you say, giggling as the two of you realize that the smallest clothes in the world are still a little too baggy on your little—so fucking little—girl.

Joel doesn’t waver, helping put her bitty legs through the loose pant legs…

You see him wipe his lips quickly, swallowing a lump to clear his throat.

“Joel, are you crying?”

“No,” he rasps like a whimper. “M’just sweatin’ through my eyes.”

You let out a chuckle, and Joel tries to do the same, but then he looks down at his little angel again, who’s stretching herself out in the new cloth that’s practically a giant coat on her. Joel starts to tremble. “She’s so perfect,” he weeps, and the shine in his eyes are clear as day.

“Oh baby, it’s okay to cry! I’m gonna cry too—“ you bawl, and now the two of you cry over this little girl who’s just trying to figure out why this blanket is stuck to her.

Not a great first impression from mom and dad but she’ll just have to deal with it.

And just like that, the Miller family went from party of two, to family of three.

-

6 weeks later…

The baby monitor crackles to life, and Joel is already tossing the blanket aside before the baby utters her first cry. He’s already up, kissing your forehead with “I’ll get her," almost excitedly through the heavy lull of sleep. You barely get a noise out of your throat, already snoring away into the pillow. He’s exhausted too, but his feet carry him onward with droopy eyes as if on their own.

He’s still not happy about the pink paint color of her bedroom, but that hardly matters right now. Terribly dramatic cries echo from the crib ahead. He scoops his little bean—since that’s what she looks like all curly in her onesie—supporting her head carefully and tucking her into one elbow. 

He rocks her squirming, agitated body back and forth in one arm as he shakes the now warmed bottle in his other hand. Joel tries to get her screaming mouth to take the cap, but she shakes her head, avoiding him at all costs to her own detriment.

 "Oh you’re such a squiggly girly for daddy. I got ya bubbas right here, quick ya cryin’. You’re gonna wake up mommy." 

As if she understands how she wouldn’t want to cause YOU any problems, his baby stops crying and accepts the bottle between her lips. Once she finally has her snacking, she peacefully looks back up to him, studies him. 

"There she is.  Told ya." He grins, swaying back and forth as she stares back at him with those big beautiful brown eyes. You definitely got one of your wishes: Joel’s eyes. The rest of her, is yours.

He’s hypnotized, so in love with her he didn’t think it was possible to love something as much as you. He already knows he’s gonna get her the dog, the kitty, the pony, the car, credit card, dress, house, anything she points to really; he’s never going to be able to say no to those enchanting eyes.

All of her bitty fingers fist around Joel’s pointer, as if to anchor her, and she doesn't let go as she drinks safely.  

She’s only 10 pounds now, but he feels like Atlas, carrying the entire weight of the world all curled up in his arms right now. Ans he'd carry this weight forever if he could, would pump iron and concrete slabs and oceans just to stay in shape and keep his girl in his arms for eternity, never to tire.

“My babygirl,” he whispers with a grin, pursing his lips close to her. “My little baby Sarah.”

- - - -

taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @jeewrites

[scarletttries]

When Fallout Characters Fall In Love... (Fallout Show Request)

Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader, Maximus x Reader, Norm x Reader

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has sent in a request for the Fallout show, please keep them coming as this is definitely the show that I'm thinking about the most at the moment! Also let me know if you want a part two of these headcanons or something similar :)

The Ghoul:

- Cooper Howard couldn't put his finger on exactly when he had accepted that the life he now led would be one devoid of love, but it was a hollow feeling he carried in his chest wherever the wasteland took him. Maybe it was in the decades he'd spent wandering and gaining a reputation as a heartless cowboy without an ounce of mercy. Or the fact that he hadn't met anyone that had stirred up a single emotion inside him, fearing the aching betrayal of his wife would haunt him even as lifetimes passed. Maybe it came to him in the way he flinched each time he caught his reflection in the few unbroken windows he passed, flesh slowly forming caverns and creases where once there were only the faintest of lines that showed endless signs of life. The wasteland was no place for love. That's what he had decided.

- But even in the fall of civilization there's room for a surprise, and you were certainly one of those..

- He heard rumour of you before your bounty crossed his desk, a runaway scientist from a mysterious body known only as The Institute, a target to everyone for the sheer volume of classified knowledge you might possess.

- A life on the run was no easy one, and Cooper knew that better than anyone, so it didn't take long for him to track you down to a small town just on the outskirts of the radiation's no man's land. His gun was cocked as he strutted towards the half open door of the rundown house he'd narrowed your location down to, glancing at the poster in his hand one last time before he burst inside. Even from the poorly illustrated version of you, he could see your eyes were kind, almost hopeful, like you still believed science could make right what had gone so wrong in the last 200 years. He almost felt a tinge of guilt as he steeled himself for a fight, saying a silent prayer that you wouldn't be behind the walls in front of him.

- Stepping in carefully he expected traps, or an army of robots to jump to arms, but instead he found you travelling alone, a small satchel of papers clutched in your arms as you stared him down with a calm resolve that caught him more off guard than any weapon.

"Do you still believe there's hope for this world Mr Howard?" Your voice was soft, not the trembling fear he was so used to hearing. You stared up at him without a trace of disgust in your expression, your eyes locked on his as he considered your question, and then lowered his weapon.

"And what if I do?" His heart ached at the question, so hardened by years of cynicism that even the idea of hope and goodness were almost too heavy to bear. He felt more human than he had in years as you slowly inched towards him, the creaking floorboards beneath you cutting through a tense silence that had The Ghoul feeling like he was back on a movie set, everything so perfectly orchestrated to have his stomach in knots. And then you extended your hand to him and gave him the most genuine smile he could remember receiving in this whole sorry chapter of his after-life,

"Then I think we could really make a difference. Together." Your pip-boy screeched as his irradiated hand stretched out to reach yours, but you didn't flinch, gently squeezing the twisted flesh as you shook on what you bought felt in the depths of your souls was going to be a meaningful partnership.

- It would be a straight forward life trying to use your research to get the world back on track for there to be joy and peace again. But with The Ghoul by your side you can expect; a personal bodyguard who cares more about your safety than his own by far, a gleaming look of pride in his eyes any time you tell him which Cooper Howard film was your favourite, the slow and steady acceptance that he is still worthy of love even in his new twisted form, and Cooper being endlessly grateful that you are the person who wants to give that love to him.

Maximus:

- All Maximus had ever wanted was to be a knight of the Brotherhood. He wakes up every morning and does his best every day just to try and earn his spot in this family of welded metal and unflinching loyalty. It wasn't until you arrived on the base that he started to realise there were other ways he might form a family.

- A nearby village had been half destroyed by raiders until the Brotherhood stepped in, clearing out the violent scavengers and bringing anyone with skills they could utilise back to base for assessment. Maximus was sitting alone, nursing the most recent wounds inflicted by his so-called brothers when he watched you march in alongside two soldiers, the final evacuee of your faded community, a distance in your eyes that he felt akin with from his own home's destruction. You could feel his eyes on you before you spotted him, a rag damp with blood pressed to his nose as he sat huddled against a corrugated iron shack.

- Despite the sheer joylessness of the situation, Max couldn't stop himself from sporting a smile, waving at you like you had locked eyes across the schoolyard not some barren military base. Whatever he hoped for in that moment seemed to pay off as you waved back, a small laugh escaping your lips at the absurdity of his blood soaked grin. He watched as the knights around you escorted you to the medical tent for a check up, waiting until they left their guard posts beside you to sneak behind the off-white fabric, following some unknown instinct he'd never felt call to him before. You bolted upright where you perched on one of the medical beds as he appeared, visibly relaxing when you recognised him from outside and once again waving in his direction. His mouth worked faster than his brain in that moment, heart hammering in his chest as the words gushed out with his new found affections,

"I used to live in Shady Sands. I know what it's like to have your home destroyed, your family hurt, everything changing all at once. But you're safe here with the Brotherhood, and even if it doesn't feel like it today, things are going to be okay eventually. Also I'm Maximus and if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm, like, around all the time, and no one else really wants to talk to me so I'm probably going to be available... " He trailed off as he tried to recover what had ended up a far more embarrassing sentence than he'd hoped, his lungs burning as he realised he'd forgotten to take a breath through his whole winding spiel. But when you smiled at him any shame seemed to float away, and as you patted the bed and nodded for him to take a seat beside you, the once lonely squire suddenly felt much closer to finding a family than he had surrounded by his brothers.

- As you settle into life on the base, you and Maximus only grow closer. Expect; late nights of sneaking out of your dorm so you and Max can stare up the stars and plot your escape from this life, fantasising about what a life beyond these walls and this world could be like for the two of you, someone who has your back no matter how bad things get and how low you feel, and truly some of the most god awful flirting you will ever hear.

Norm:

- Growing up in the Vault, Norm had always been told the value of belonging to a community, and how everyone in the vault was just a big happy family. But none of that stopped Norm feeling like an outsider, like he didn't quite operate on the same wavelength as the rest of the cheerful strangers he shared his deep underground walls with. After a few of the annual exchanges between vaults, he had all but given up on hoping to meet anyone he felt he could actually feel close to.

- When his overseer father had finally decided it was his turn to continue the vault's legacy and be part of what Norm considered an archaic tradition of arranged marriages between the linked vaults, Norm couldn't have been more resistant. He pleaded for the council to reject his nomination, begging them not to force some young hopeful to be subjected to his notable lack of enthusiasm for the rest of their life in this dutiful swap, but with limited options of eligible young men, he soon found himself staring down the doors of your vault. The suit previously used by his fellow bachelors had been tailored to within an inch of its life to try and fit his slight frame, the shoulders still feeling like they hung off him, threatening to swallow him up along with ground as he watched the round door slowly start to roll open.

- He thought this whole thing was stupid and outdated, and he knew there was no way he could actually find someone to love and love him in return behind those doors, so why was his stomach so full of butterflies as slowly your face started to appear in the artificial light of Vault 33. He waited to see you throw him a false smile, going through the motions as much as he had planned to, or even a look of disappointment that he was not the man you had been picturing as the door crept open. Instead he really thought he saw sincerity in your eyes, a thoughtful understanding as he choked out his name, his stammering not going unnoticed by his sister who quietly chuckled behind him.

"It's really nice to meet you, Norm." You spoke each word with intention, like it wasn't just a rehearsed greeting but an honest confession that sent sparks flying in the air between you.

- Suddenly the pressure of matrimony didn't feel so all consuming. And maybe this system was more advanced than he had appreciated. And there might be a small chance that he wasn't destined to spend his life feeling like he was on the outside, that he might finally have someone that could take him as he is, darkness and light, for better or for worse.

- Whether you stay in the vaults, or make your move to the surface world, with Norm by your side you can expect: Sarcastic comments muttered under his breath at inopportune moments just to see the way you fail to contain your laughter, being the sounding board for all of each other's thoughts and feelings no matter how serious or silly they might be, Norm clinging to your side through everything knowing that he only feels himself when he's stood in your light, and being the one person Norm would do absolutely anything for, bringing out the bravery and intelligence that was always just below the surface of this sweet man.

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

ah—just saw the recent post about injured reader, but what about injured ambessa? could i get something with like a fussy or anxious reader when it comes to ambessa getting injured? pretty pls :]

𓇻 𝗜𝗡𝗝𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 ᵃᵐᵇᵉˢˢᵃ ᵐᵉᵈᵃʳᵈᵃ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Referenced/Mentioned Fic: Wounds

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; One-shot. Romantic. Established relationship. Ambessa and you are on a battlefield when you notice her swaying. 𝘼/𝙉 ;; I hope you enjoy this fic!! It's a bit erratic and the pacing may be rushed, but I did have fun writing this scenario!

12.01.24 Masterlist

The battlefield was a cacophony of chaos—clashing steel, shouted orders, and the relentless cries of war.

Amidst the chaos, Ambessa Medarda stood as a force of nature, her axe carving a path through the enemy like a wildfire consuming a dry forest. Beside her, you fought with unyielding determination, drawing strength from her unshakeable presence.

Ambessa was unshaken, a towering force cutting through enemies with a deadly elegance. You stayed close to her flank, your own blade flashing as you fought to protect your lover.

You should have noticed it earlier—the slight stagger in her step, the slower swing of her axe. But it wasn’t until she faltered, her knee buckling as she let out a low, guttural groan, that you saw the blood soaking her side.

“Ambessa!” Your voice cracked as you turned, cutting down an opponent in your way and rushing to her side. She was on one knee, one hand clutching her wound, the other gripping her axe for balance. Even injured, she exuded defiance.

A surge of protectiveness overtook you. You turned to your soldiers, voice rising above the din. “General Ambessa Medarda is wounded! Form a defensive line! Now!”

“I’m fine,” she muttered through gritted teeth, though her pale complexion betrayed her words.

The troops hesitated for a fraction of a second before snapping to action. Their respect for both you and Ambessa spurred them into motion, shields locking together to form a protective barrier, protecting you two from any stray projectiles.

“Fine?” Your hands shook as you knelt beside her, bruising your knees with how roughly you dropped. You cupped her face, turning her head slightly to assess any other damages. “You’re bleeding everywhere. You’re not fine.”

Her golden eyes softened at your distress. “It’s just a scratch. You worry too much.”

“No, I don’t worry enough.” You tore a strip of fabric from your tunic, pressing it against the wound. “Why didn’t you call for help? Why didn’t you—” Your voice broke, the thought of losing her too much to bear.

She placed a bloodied hand over yours, her grip still tight but reassuring. “I am a Medarda, I do not falter in front of the enemy.”

Her pride, even in her weakened state, made your head begin to ache.

You squeezed her hand. “Ignore your pride for a moment. You’re not moving another inch until we get you to safety.”

She gave you a faint smile, one laced with affection and a stubborn pride. “You’re attractive when you’re angry.”

“And you sound like a fool,” you snapped, grabbing a another strip of cloth from your belt to prevent even more bleeding. “Stay still, or you’ll make it worse.” Your tone lacked its usual sharpness.

You pressed a soft kiss to her gold-armored forehead before rising to your feet. “Pull back to the ridge!” you roared commands, your voice carrying over the battlefield, “North Flank track them to their graves! West Flank retreat!”

“I’m not going anywhere, there's no need to rush,” she murmured from beneath you, her smirk faint but still undeniably hers. Ambessa chuckled weakly. “Fussing suits you.”

You knelt down again, and brushed a strand of her hair away from her sweat-dampened face. “Don’t you dare joke about this. You’ll be fine, but you have to let me take care of you. Just this once.”

Her eyes softened, and she squeezed your hand again. “You take care of me every day.”

With the defensive line holding the enemy at bay, you barked out orders for the nearest free soldiers to help. Two of them rushed to either side of Ambessa, supporting her weight as you led the retreat.

Your own heart felt like it might burst from your chest, every instinct screaming at you to stay by her side, but you forced yourself to keep moving forward, shouting commands to ensure a coordinated withdrawal.

The camp was a frantic flurry of activity when you arrived, medics scrambling to tend to the wounded. You guided Ambessa to a hastily prepared tent, your voice trembling as you called for immediate attention.

“Lay her down,” you ordered, your hands trembling as you helped the soldiers ease her onto a cot. Ambessa’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and your panic spiked.

You knew Ambessa was a strong woman, she was a war leader after all. But she's never gotten this injured before. You contemplated if it was due to your own recklessness that led to this nightmare scenario.

Whatever the case, you were too anxious for your own good. Your usual calm composure replaced with urgency and unease.

“Stay with me,” you pleaded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Ambessa, stay with me.”

Her eyes opened, just a sliver, and she smirked faintly despite the pain etched into her features. “You’re not like yourself.”

“What did you expect me to do?” you practically barked, your voice breaking.

The medics pushed you away, gently but firmly, as they began to work. Their hands already working to peel away the blood-soaked armor and assess the damage.

You only hovered nearby, wringing your hands, unable to tear your eyes away from her. She was so strong, so unyielding, and seeing her like this felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you.

“She’ll pull through,” one of the medics said after what felt like an eternity. “The wound is deep, but it’s unlikely it'll kill her. She’s lucky.”

You let out a shaky breath, relief flooding your chest. “Thank you,” you murmured, though the anxiety twisting in your gut didn’t fully dissipate.

Once the medics had done all they could, you sank into a chair beside her cot, your hand finding hers. Her grip was weak, but it was there, and it grounded you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, “Do you have any idea how terrifying that was?”

“I’m fine,” she murmured, her voice softer now, the fight temporarily drained from her. “I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” you shot back, your voice thick with emotion. “You scared me, Ambessa.”

Her fingers squeezed yours, a faint but deliberate gesture. “And yet, you took charge. My soldiers listen to you quite well.” Her lips quirked into a faint smile. “I always knew you were worthy of leadership.”

Your face flushed, but the praise didn’t ease the ache in your chest. “I don’t care about that. I care about you. Promise me you won’t be so careless.”

She chuckled weakly, “I’ll try.”

“Ambessa,” you said, your voice firm despite the way your knee kept bouncing repeatedly, a sign of your wavering composure. “Promise me.”

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the indomitable Ambessa Medarda looked almost vulnerable. “I promise.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now, she was alive, and you would do everything in your power to keep it that way.

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ epilogue || there are weirder ways to learn about each other (🎂)

Admittedly, reading that text, you fumbled your phone remembering the short time limit.

Your pulse quickened as soon as you did, though. And instead of acknowledging the prevalent gong that struck in your chest, you knew by just a glance of the clock and the blaring concession that you were still in your pajamas after getting home that you were pretty much screwed.

The message glared at you bluntly. You scrambled to your feet with the finesse and charm of a terrified deer. Clothes, socks, shoes, for some reason while you were searching for everything you were wearing, they didn't fit as snugly as before. You were also putting them on entirely wrong, in theory too, but you weren't thinking about that too much at the moment. Everything you did need was scattered in complete disarray, and your brain continued to move too fast to remember where you even left anything in the first place.

You hissed in mild defeat, dropping to your knees to snatch just the plain sweater you were wearing and hiding your pajama shirt that said 'Certified Almond Lover' on the front.

A strangled laugh escaped you, half-amusement, half-panic that this was happening again. You were getting deja vu despite not having lived through this for the absolute longest time, and for some reason, it flooded your soul with an intoxicating, more interesting rush of life. A torrent of the evocations you had yet to revisit now that you brought the memorabilia to the front of the house and cleaned up everything else.

By the time you burst outside, his car was already in the driveway, where he stood there, scrolling through his phone in the frosting air. Even standing in place, he seemed so unbothered, the biting winter failing to even faze him. A dark scarf loose around his neck as his strands of hair brushed over his cheeks in the light gales. The sheer image of him was making the mess of your chest come to a complete stop.

Your breath was puffing out the chills of the atmosphere by the time you bolted down the front steps, the sight of your ex-boyfriend giving you a different type of chills. His head slowly moved up towards you once aware of a peep, clutching the phone in his hand for a minute, sucking in his cheek.

"Cutting it close, huh?" He asked, his timbre questionably calm and his expression unreadable but for the glistering mirth in his expression, eyes sizing you up for the first time in a while, taking in your, to some degree, untidy appearance. "Did you forget?"

You started toying with the bottom half of your sweater, intentionally oversized as you avoided locking gazes with him. "I...may have lost track of time."

"Mmhm," he replied, clearly unconvinced. He noncommittally slipped his phone in his pocket and took a slow inhale and exhale. "After giving you an hour and a half, I would have thought you'd at least have the thought not to show yourself out in Satoru Gojo pajama pants. In the snow."

Your hands spontaneously flew down to your sweater as you attempted to pull the sweater over your sleepwear, you yanked it further with a small heat crawling up your neck and to your ears. "I...I wasn't planning on you showing up until you were ready. Who knew that you would be ready...right now? I got distracted!"

"Yeah? By what?" He asked, and while his tone wasn't accusatory, it was in the same energy, curious. Unfastened and disconnected in the way that made you feel twelve times more ridiculous.

"Cleaning..?" You sputtered impulsively, looking away.

"Cleaning." He echoed flatly.

Your lips opened and closed like you were trying to find a better excuse, but the actual truth was lingering on the tip of your tongue and fizzling out constantly, not even deniable to how you actually felt. Tidying up wasn't an excuse, rather than a genuine way to cope with you not really feeling like you knew how to distract yourself from the growing bow in your chest. "Too far-fetched?" You asked, a small laugh in the place of inopportune.

He was in a intricate contradiction, whittled, but aerially tender. The turn of his jaw was defined, in a soft capture of your molten irises, it was kind of holding him captive. Staring at you with a vehemence that was on the verge of insufferable. Endless expanse of his contemplations and the feeling billowing beneath the surface. It wasn't loud, or crystal clear; no, it was the kind of typhoon you felt seeing him again at Ei's house for the first time.

Drawing you in again, his lashes were dark and fine, firming his optics with a featheriness belying their polish. Like glass, impossible to ignore after a cut, his lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but it was with hesitant composure. "I'm leaving."

Your shoulders dropped at him, disappointed that this was the news he decided to bring along to your house, but you didn't falter this time. Your heart skipped a beat, not having much of a useful answer right away. At least, not one you wanted to say aloud. "So I've heard," you sighed, breaking eye contact again. "You didn't have to visit. I know you're busy."

His hands disappeared in his coat pockets once he started discerning the frigidness. His breath was visible between you two as he scoffed. "We're past being selfless.” He muttered, but there was no real heat in his voice. If anything, he sounded tired.

“Well, calling sounds a lot better when you’re under pressure, and a tour sounds like a hard swallow.” You swallowed hard and thick, voice quieter now. “I don’t want you to do any catering, you know what you need to do, and so do I.”

"I wanted to see you.” He snarked half-heartedly.

Your stomach twisted, it was the simplicity of his words that got you, and you forced another shaky laugh to ebb the rest of your tenseness. “Okay…” You said, a lot more disjointed than intended.

He leaned in slowly, the change in his stance creating flimsiness within the distance. He carefully dismantled it, his existence alone was pressing into you, pulling you into an ellipse without ever laying a finger on you. His face hovered closer, head tipping slightly to memorize you, study your new movements and practices now that you were…unfamiliar.

“Okay?” His voice was low, pulling you much like the sinewy drifts you felt in your stomach. Faint scent of his light trace, testing the heft of his words with a lace.

While your gaze darts away involuntarily consistent, Kuni didn’t let you escape so easily. He moved nearer to you, chin aslant downwards, chasing your expression with little purpose other than to get some sort of rise out of you.

As a small and teasing smile graced his lips, the sound of your own pulse was beating in his ears as you slowly lifted your eyes back to his. It was near impossible to ignore him like this— the same person who you were entirely head over heels for. And in a sense, you felt like you still were.

“There you are.” He said, more elated while his voice remained silent as the neighborhood they lived in. The corner of his lips twitched…from amusement? Frustration? You couldn’t tell. Even if he hadn’t touched you, it felt a lot like he had his hand on your back, comforting it leisurely. It sent mold shivers down your spine, and a leering heat stroke from how bad you were feeling it.

You bit your lip, “The tour,” you tried to make out, but you were jittery the second you attempted to control yourself. “It’s really tonight?”

He nodded. “Midnight bus.”

You hesitated, your heart dropping to the bottom of your stomach in seconds. It rendered strange to you, even with the current circumstances leading them here. That Kuni would be like this again. “How long?”

Kuni mulled on it, “Three months,” he mulled, tone even. “It depends on how well it goes.”

There was no problem waiting an entire three months to do something, you were usually used to that prospect anyway considering you owned a business at one point, but there was something extremely agitating about this trial of patience in particular.

You couldn’t control it, nor put it to an immediate stop. You were forced to bear the burden of realizing you couldn’t hold back change no matter what you did. Even if it was fluid enough to come back. “You’ll come back, right?” You glanced down at your hands, fidgeting with the sleeves on your sweater.

Almost as if scrutinizing you in silence, he gave way to something gentler in comparison to his usual approach. You didn’t necessarily feel like you were standing on the edge of prejudice these days with him, “I always do.”

Nearing silence was not spoken for, but it wasn’t awkward nor painful to sit in with him this time around. It said words that neither of you could even fathom about yourselves, about the times that have passed. Your chest tightened in expectation still, and you stiffened. “Did you come by just to say that you’d miss me?” Your eyes lit up.

He leaned back ever so slightly, his breath was seeable in comparison to how he was again. He tilted his head just enough for his hair to shift against the angles of his face. His exterior a crack in marble, only showing its light in the right position. “Did you get the message, or did you want to wring it out of me?”

The fervor in your face increased, and you were left to simply say something incoherent under your breath. “I’ll miss you too.”

He caught the sound, but instead of poking at your father, the moment settled. His snarky visibility settling to something soundless, off the record. He wandered over your mannerisms again, your bitten lip, subtle line of tension on your brow, your lips together like they were trying hard to hold something back.

Even if it was just to live vicariously here for one last moment before he was suffering at consistent demands, he considered it worth the time and effort these days. A bigger change than he realized, and all you could do in comeback was twist the fabric of your sweater in bunches under your fingers while attempting to even your breathing.

There was no more shortness of the distance, because it was hardly there anymore. The gap had simmered away, leaving your breath to hitch again after regaining it, stopping mere inches from you. He looked at you again, with that same unafraid look. The look he carried with him while he was telling you off, and the look he’s keep with him now that he was leaving you for a while. His expression reverent, and like a precious gem.

His hands lifted slowly from his sides as the faint hesitation in his motion caught him by surprise. Your cold cheeks were replaced by the somewhat warmth of his touch, his thumb brushed slightly beneath your cheekbone, the metal ring grazing softly on your skin. You leaned into his touch like clockwork, featherlight and stopping every now and then, you were too nervous to look into his eyes even if something was entrancing about it.

He was sure again, with a more dainty unsureness nestled in him. “Is this okay?” He asked, but quiet enough that only you could hear.

You swallowed all the words you were going to say, what you were supposed to now that he wouldn’t be here long. “Yes,” Your voice tremors.

His lips twitched in the smallest guise of a smile. His hands now a ghost of a presence and you were forced to feel the shivers on your spine move up, creating goosebumps like no other. He leaned into slowly, taking your lips in his again. This time, the earth was holding its breath in anticipation, just as you were.

Kuni’s lips were soft, even when there was a determinedness to the way he kissed you. Like he had something else to prove to you that wasn’t just his proudness speaking in his ear. It mattered to him, anyway, it was why his hands never left, it’s why his kisses started to deepen with every retract. A press of his presence, grounding you, setting in your racing heart like the sweetest melody.

Not hurried, nor urgent, just consuming you all the same.

Lips brushing on you, your head in a flurry that was similar to the whisper of winter’s first snowfall. He was merciful, forbearing, fleeting with every second that you took for granted. Time was stretching impossibly long between the two of you, and you were almost at peace to say that this was something you wished you felt again. The adorations of his feathering pecks, he wasn’t afraid to kiss you, but he was yearning.

Love to you was a lot like feeling yearned for. That’s all you ever knew, and it was a feeling you wished many had the pleasure of growing fond of. The feeling making you want to jump into the air in a burst of energy, the lingering patience of your ex-lover remaining in your palm, and you savored it.

When he finally pulled back, a part of Kunikuzushi Raiden didn’t want to let the harrowing future take hold. Drawing back meant he had to leave right now, lips hovering close in a contemplating to keep going, ignoring a schedule. He stood there, memorizing that feeling.

You let him, and instead of embarrassing him once he removed himself from you, watching his eyes flick back open to see your beaming expression, you quietly rubbed at your arm. “I didn’t like that one either.” You broke the silence with a small and unserious utterance, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, it kind of sucked.”

previous ☆ masterlist

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

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@dontmindtheevie @mywillt0live @gl00muraaii

[coffeeshades]

—true blue ⭑ part ii

summary: two strangers meet in a city of millions, only to discover they've been searching for each other all along.

pairing: pedro pascal x f!reader.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: age gap, angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol, loneliness, nostalgia. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: happy reading <3

Several weeks had passed since Pedro’s last letter, and your heart had fallen into a state of quiet, private anguish. At first, you waved it off—surely, he was busy; perhaps work had claimed his attention. It was only reasonable, you told yourself. Your own days were heavy with work; your nights were weighed down by the kinds of dreams that stretch between waking and sleep.

You expected his silence would soon be broken.

But as each day drew to a close without word from him, your soul grew restless, your mind endlessly rehearsing the contents of your last letter. Did you overstep some invisible boundary? Did he, perhaps, see the words on the page and find them lacking?

It was a mad habit, replaying the messages, re-reading them through imagined eyes. Had you given yourself away too soon, foolishly assuming some intimacy that perhaps had never been there?

Resigned, you finally abandoned any hope of hearing from him again.

One bright Saturday in late autumn, you sought solace in Hyde Park. The air was brisk, threading itself with the scent of dying leaves. In one hand, you clutched a warm pumpkin flavored coffee, and in the other, the last book Pedro had given you, its spine softened by countless touches, as though he’d read it a hundred times before sending it on to you. The vibrant red of your cardigan caught the eyes of passersby, a bright, defiant spot against the muted colors of the late autumn landscape.

As you walked, you saw the shapes of couples in the distance, silhouettes tangled together as they strolled or lingered under trees. You were reminded of those precious, everyday moments—of your friend's comforting calls, your patients’ murmured thanks at the end of long days, the warmth of those early letters exchanged with Pedro. Each of these small flashes of light is a reminder that life held joy even amid decay.

Yet even those small joys paled in comparison to what Pedro had come to represent to you. He was more than just a light; he had become the sun, his warmth reaching some part of you long-buried, awakening hope you’d thought lost forever. You clung to that hope, fragile as it was, in your steps.

And then, as if conjured by some unseen will, he appeared.

You saw him, standing near a tree talking on his phone, dressed much the same as the first time you’d met, only this time his glasses were different. Your heart raced, a sudden jolt of fear gripping you. You shouldn’t be scared—you’d been writing to him for weeks. You’d spilled your guts on paper, sharing things with him you hadn’t told anyone else. Talking to him shouldn’t be a big deal.

But it was.

You kept walking, hoping to avoid him, but then you heard it. Your name—deliciously spoken in his voice, rich and deep. You stopped dead in your tracks, heart hammering in your chest.

Your footsteps slowed, your pulse quickening as you turned. There he was, hands tucked into his pockets, his smile just as soft, as if he’d known all along that you’d appear there on that same path.

“I thought that was you,” he said, taking a few steps toward you.

It was all you could do to muster a reply, your voice an unsteady whisper against the gusts of wind. “You’ve only seen me once,” you stammered, “and you remembered me?”

A laugh, gentle and reassuring, rumbled from him as he replied, “You’re hard to forget.”

“Oh.”

It was the only word you could manage, your brain still trying to process the fact that he was here, in front of you.

He glanced down at the book in your hand. “How’s it going?” he asked, nodding towards it.

“I’m halfway through already. It’s fast-paced,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual, even though your pulse was racing.

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled again. “You going somewhere?”

You glanced around, desperate to avoid his intense gaze. His brown eyes were impossibly warm, pulling you in. “Not really,” you said. “Just walking.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

From there, conversation flowed, interrupted only by the brisk autumn breeze, as if you hadn’t already shared your deepest thoughts in letters. He asked about your work, and when you told him you worked in healthcare, he teased, “Could you be a little more specific?”

You laughed. “I’m a doctor, actually.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “No way. That’s impressive. Beauty and brains.”

You blushed. Did he just—did he compliment you?

“It’s no big deal. I applied for a residency here a while ago, and now… here I am.”

“Where’d you go to med school?” he asked.

“New York,” you said, smiling softly. “Lived there my whole life.”

“Why not stay there?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It sounds silly, but I always dreamed of escaping to somewhere new. Somewhere no one knew me.”

“And how’s that going for you?”

You laughed, glancing down at the ground. “Pretty lonely.”

He frowned. “Lonely?”

“Not much different from my life before,” you added quickly, feeling too exposed. You turned the conversation back to him. “What about you?”

“Uh, well, I’m…an actor,” he said with a shrug. “That's why I'm in London, filming a movie. Been here for a few months now.”

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of the moment stretching out between you. You had to say it. It had been gnawing at you since that first encounter—this unspoken truth, hovering between the lines of every letter you’d exchanged.

“I... I know who you are, by the way,” you blurted out, the words rushing out faster than you intended.

Pedro raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting into that familiar, crooked smile. “Oh?”

You nodded, suddenly shy, feeling your face grow warm. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t sure at first. You look different, a little. But then when you signed the first letter with your name, I was like, ‘Oh yeah, it’s him.’ And then I didn’t want to ruin it or make things weird, so I didn’t say anything, but maybe I should’ve? I don’t know, I—”

You rambled on, your voice a frantic mess as the words stumbled over themselves. Pedro watched you, his eyes crinkling in amusement, letting you spiral out without interrupting. His quiet, steady presence only made you more flustered, the way he seemed so completely at ease, while you felt like you were falling over your own sentences like an idiot.

“Hey,” he said gently, cutting into your monologue. “Slow down. It’s okay.”

“Is it?” You sighed, feeling the ridiculousness of your own nervous energy. “I just don’t want you to think I’m only talking to you because of… you know. Who you are.”

He seemed unsurprised, a knowing look in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have kept this up if I thought it was just about… well, who I am,” he said, his tone softening. “Honestly, I was grateful for a reason to just… be myself.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relieved. “Thank you. It’s just… I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Pedro said, smiling again, but softer this time. “Actually, thank you for coming clean about it. If it makes you feel better, I knew you knew. I could tell.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m not exactly subtle, am I?”

“No, but I like that about you,” he said, eyes glinting with warmth. “You’re refreshingly honest, even when you’re rambling.”

Your nerves melted just a little at his words, and everything felt easy again, just like in the letters.

The walk turned into an invitation to lunch, and soon enough, you found yourselves tucked into a cozy corner table at a little restaurant nearby. The place was warm, with soft lighting and wooden beams overhead, the air carrying the scent of fresh bread and something savory cooking in the back. It was intimate, inviting.

Pedro picked up the menu, scanning it briefly before glancing at you with a playful grin. “So, what’s your go-to order? Something pumpkin-flavored, I’m guessing?”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Ha ha. Only the coffee. But sure, I’ll embrace the autumn stereotype.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I had a pumpkin spice latte the other day—didn’t hate it.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I knew you were the type. All that rugged, cool guy persona? A front for your love of seasonal beverages.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? I contain multitudes.”

Lunch came, and so did the conversation between bites of food and sips of wine.

At one point, Pedro started telling a story about his first audition, a disaster that involved a broken chair and spilled coffee, and you nearly choked on your drink from laughing so hard.

“And then,” he said, shaking his head, “the casting director just looked at me, deadpan, and said, ‘Well, that was memorable.’”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, wiping your eyes. “I would have died.”

“I nearly did,” he said, grinning. “But hey, I got the part. Pity, probably.”

“Or charm,” you said, raising your glass. “Here’s to charming your way through life.”

He clinked his glass with yours, the sound soft, like the connection between you.

A nameless, delicate thing.

Laughter faded, and the conversation settled into a more vulnerable rhythm. The weight of what you had said in your letters hung between you, an acknowledgment that this was more than just books and thoughts shared on paper. It had become a bridge—fragile, intimate, but undeniably real.

“I know what that’s like,” you said, breaking the silence, your voice softer now. You swirled the last of your wine in the glass, staring at it like the answer might rise up in the reflection. “To try to mold yourself to fit into someone’s life. To make yourself pliable, digestible... because you love them. Because you want them to love you back. But I realized… that’s useless. You can change everything about yourself and still not be enough. So why betray yourself?”

Pedro’s, warm and deep eyes seemed to catch the weight of your words and hold them for a moment before he spoke. “That’s... yeah, I get that. More than I care to admit.”

You bit your lip, immediately feeling exposed. “I’m sorry,” you added quickly, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture. “I didn’t mean to get all existential on you.”

He shook his head, his expression soft. “No, don’t apologize. It’s real. Honestly, it’s refreshing to talk about this stuff. It feels like people avoid these conversations, you know? Too much noise, not enough... depth.”

You nodded.

“And please don’t think I’m, like, dreadfully sad,” you added with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I mean, yes, I am, but at the back of it, I promise there’s faith. There’s hope. And love. Lots of love.”

Pedro’s smile widened, just enough to deepen the creases at the corners of his eyes. "Same. I could tell from your letters."

"I don't know, I've always wanted this thing that's not quite love but something more."

“What is that?” he asked quietly, his voice dipping in a way that made the question feel more intimate, as if he already knew part of the answer.

You hesitated; the answer slipped out anyway. “To be understood.”

He didn’t speak right away, just took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. His face was a map of tiny details you had already memorized in your letters—his dark hair streaked with silver, the subtle patches of white in his beard, more prominent under the soft light of the restaurant. His eyes crinkled at the corners, even when he wasn’t smiling, like someone who’d spent a lifetime both laughing and crying deeply. He carried it all with him—his history written in the lines on his face, in the way his hands moved slowly, thoughtfully.

“You know,” he began, setting his glass down, his voice low but steady, “there’s something from one of your letters that’s been stuck with me. When you wrote: ‘All I’ve ever known of love is how to live without it. I just can’t seem to find it.”

Your breath caught in your chest. You remembered writing those words late one night, fingers trembling as your pen hit the paper, thinking it might be too much to share. But now, hearing it come back to you in his voice, you realized it had struck him, too. Maybe he had been holding onto it, turning it over in his mind, just as you had.

“That…” he trailed off, shaking his head, his gaze falling to the table for a moment as if searching for the right words. “That hit me. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

You swallowed.

Pedro’s eyes met yours again, and this time, there was a quiet intensity behind them. “I do feel like that too,” he said simply. “I’ve felt that way for a long time.”

There was a pause. Not the awkward kind, but the heavy kind—the kind where things shift, where you realize the other person is carrying the same scars you’ve spent a lifetime hiding.

“I’ve always been good at feeling things deeply,” he continued, his voice growing quieter, more reflective. “Too deeply, maybe. And with love… it’s like this paradox, you know? You want to be loved for who you are, but you end up bending yourself into knots, just trying to be enough for someone else. And when it doesn’t work, you wonder what you did wrong. Why you weren’t enough.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand through his dark hair, the streaks of white catching in the light. “I’ve been in relationships where I thought, ‘This is it, this is love,’ but it wasn’t. I was just... fitting myself into someone else’s idea of love. And I don’t think I’ve ever let someone really see me. Not like this.”

You sat in silence for a moment, his words hanging in the air between you. There was something profoundly human about his confession. He wasn’t just a famous face or a larger-than-life presence. He was a person, flawed and searching, just like you.

“I think that’s what scares me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “That maybe I’ve never been seen either. Not really.”

Pedro looked at you then, and there was something in his eyes that made your heart thud harder in your chest—a softness, a recognition, like he understood you in ways you hadn’t even begun to understand yourself.

“I see you,” he said quietly, his voice steady, no trace of hesitation.

You blinked, feeling your throat tighten, not trusting yourself to speak. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The world outside the restaurant—Hyde Park with its autumn chill, the bustling streets of London—faded away. It was just the two of you sitting at that small table, the space between you shrinking.

Pedro leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers brushing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. “And what if,” he said, his voice low, “what if love isn’t something you have to find? What if it’s already here? In these moments, in the quiet spaces between words?”

Your heart fluttered, the weight of his gaze anchoring you to the moment. He wasn’t just talking about love as an abstract concept. He was talking about this—the connection between you, the letters, the words that had brought you both to this place.

And suddenly, you realized that you weren’t just yearning for love. You were already in it, knee-deep, feeling everything so deeply you hadn’t even noticed.

You smiled, a soft, tentative thing. “Maybe we’re both learning what love looks like.”

Pedro’s lips curved into a small smile, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t alone in your search.

You were here, in the mess of it. And that was enough.

a/n: don't forget to like, reblog or comment! and remember my ask is always open, would love to hear your thoughts!

next part should be up soon!!

[diazsdimples]

Congratulations on 1K 🥳 ❤️

Hope all goes well with the surgery 🫶

I'm going to request:

Bucktommy small fic: Buck or Tommy (you pick!) finds a ring box hidden in a drawer

Bucktommy text chain: flirty vibes!

MWAH!

Ahhh thank you!! Finally getting around to answering this!! Your text chains will be in a separate post 😊 I hope you enjoy!!

Little black box (Teen, 2.2k | Bucktommy)

Tommy isn't meant to see it.

Not now, at least. Not like this.

He should see it for the first time as Evan slowly gets down on one knee, producing it from his jacket pocket. It should be a surprise that fills his stomach with helium, making him feel light and as though he could float away if it weren’t for the strength of Evan’s presence beside him, keeping him forever grounded.

Instead, he just feels cold, his throat tightening as he looks down at the small, velvet box. It’s so innocent, resting between Evan’s underwear as though it’s been there for months, comfortable in its space. And it might have been, for all he knows. Tommy’s eyes sting as he pushes back the thought that he might never have known, had it not been for the skill and quick thinking of the paramedics.

His hands are shaking, he realises, as he covers the box once again, hiding it with the briefs that had once been shielding it from the world – from Tommy’s knowledge. Admittedly it’s one of the most obvious hiding places ever, easily discoverable should Tommy ever rifle through Evan’s old socks, but he’s never had any need to do that.

Until now.

Swallowing down the rapidly rising lump in his throat, Tommy picks out a couple of pairs of briefs before selecting a pair of soft sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt of his that he knows Evan loves. With a heavy sigh, Tommy drops to the side of their bed and his head hangs. A lone tear escapes from the corner of his eye, making a silent track down the side of his nose before dripping off the end. It falls onto the duvet cover, a small splotch of wet right next to the rose petaled pattern.

Evan’s blood is still under his fingernails, staining the tips of his fingers like rust on steel. He’d scrubbed them in the hospital as his breaths came hard and fast, his heart feeling as though it could explode from his chest. He’d scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until he bled himself. Eddie had come in behind him, taking the soap from his hands and had guided him from the bathroom.

“Go home,” he’d said, peering into Tommy’s weary face. “Get some rest. I’ll call you when he’s awake.”

Maddie had driven him home. She’d offered to stay but he’d declined, saying Evan would need her more, that she should be there when he woke up. After she’d left, he’d clutched Evan’s pillow and cried himself dry until he finally passed out.

Sleep had been fitful as images of the accident flashed behind Tommy’s eyes. He’d woken with a start, gasping for breath as his phone buzzed beside him, the lockscreen of Evan’s smiling face an ever-present reminder of what he’d almost lost.

Tommy lets out a low groan, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, as if that’ll erase the image of Evan’s hair, usually blond and curled, now russet and matted with blood. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it and pulls the clothes into a neat pile beside him, ready to fold into a bag when he leaves.

He should shower. He can smell the lingering scent of hospital and the metallic twang of blood clinging to his clothes. There's a red blossom at the hem of his shirt from where he'd cradled Evan's head in his lap as they'd waited for the paramedics. With a weary sigh, Tommy pulls off his shirt and kicks off his jeans, throwing them into the hamper. He can sort them when they're home.

He showers quickly and efficiently, scrubbing every inch of his body until he feels raw, but finally free from the tarnish of Evan’s blood. Hair still wet and curling at the tips, Tommy places Evan’s clothes carefully in the backpack, along with a charger, a book, and a collection of snacks.

The drive to the hospital seems to stretch, as though Chronos himself is tugging on the threads of time, stretching out every tortuous minute where Tommy isn’t by Evan’s side. He thinks about the box, about the accident, about the events leading up to it, trying to unpack it all, to find an instance where he could take the blame. Somehow, it would be easier that way.

Maddie’s waiting outside Evan’s room. There are dark circles around her eyes and her nose is red, as though she’s been crying. Eddie and Christopher are gone, though this doesn’t surprise Tommy. They’d had a long day, and the teenager was bound to be tiring out.

“How is he?” Tommy asks. His voice sounds rough, like someone’s taken to his vocal cords with sandpaper.

“Awake. Sore,” Maddie replies. She looks at Tommy softly, her hand coming up to cradle his still-shaking fingers, steadying him. “He’s been asking for you. Go.”

She nudges him gently towards the door and he goes, drawn always to Evan like a moth to a flame.

The door creaks as he opens it and Evan looks up, roused by the noise. Tommy’s heart stutters as he takes in his boyfriend’s appearance. He looks so small in the hospital bed, his chest covered in wires from the EKG leads. His head is bandaged, hiding the wide gash from Tommy’s view. Evans eyes fill with tears and he reaches out, his fingers trembling faintly.

“Tommy,” he croaks, and Tommy’s knees almost give out with relief. Evan is okay, he’s alive and he’s breathing. He isn’t bleeding anymore, his life force safely contained behind a row of stitches, some surgical glue, and a layer of fabric. He looks better than Tommy expected – maybe a little groggy, but there’s life in those eyes. And he wants his boyfriend.

Tommy crosses the room in two quick strides and drops the backpack beside the bed before sinking to his knees. His arms wrap around Evan’s shoulders, drawing him against his chest and he breathes in the coppery tang of the blood still in Evan’s hair.

“Hey, hey sweetheart it’s okay,” Tommy soothes, kissing Evan’s forehead. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Evan takes in a deep, shuddering breath. His firsts curl in Tommy’s jumper, clutching onto him as though he expects Tommy to disappear. Tommy knows the feeling.

“You weren’t here when I woke up.”

Tommy’s heart shatters into a million pieces and he pulls Evan tighter. He’ll never let go, never let Evan out of his sight again.

“I know, I’m sorry baby. I had to go home for a bit, I think Eddie was ready to chloroform me to make me rest.” Tommy chuckles quietly at the memory, and tears prick in his eyes as the pain of having to leave washes over him again. He pulls away, swiping his fist over his cheek.

“A-are you okay?” Evan asks, his hand coming up to cup Tommy’s cheek, as though Tommy’s the one that’s just been through a terrifying, life-threatening accident, not him.

“I should be asking you that, look at you,” Tommy laughs wetly, kissing Evan’s palm. He runs his hand over the rough bandage on his forehead, the fabric catching on small nicks in his skin. Evan’s eyes flutter shut, and he leans into Tommy’s touch. “Hey, I got you some clean clothes, if you wanted to get into something more comfy.”

Evan’s face lights up as Tommy reaches beside him and pulls the backpack up onto the bed.

“God yes, these hospital gowns are awful. Thank you, baby.” Evan grins as he pulls the backpack towards him and begins pawing through its contents. He kisses Tommy sweetly as he pulls out the snacks and the charger, placing the items on the small table beside his bed. The clothes come next – first the hoodie, then the sweatpants, and then finally, his boxers. Evan’s smile falters as he lifts them up, his brow furrowing as he slowly puts two and two together.

He licks his lips before speaking. “Where – uh – where did you get these from.”

Tommy could lie. He could say they they’re his, that he wasn’t thinking when he got them. Evan would laugh, probably say something flirty if he wasn’t so tired, and that would be it. He wouldn’t have to know and Tommy could live with the weight of his discovery on his own.

He can’t do that, though.

“Your underwear drawer,” Tommy eventually answers. His mouth feels dry as he braces himself for Evan’s reaction.

The blood drains from Evan’s face, leaving him waxy and pinched. “Does that mean – did you see…?”

He trails off, unable to finish his sentence, but he doesn’t have to. He never has to, when it comes to Tommy.

“Yeah,” Tommy replies softly. He takes Evan’s hand, running his thumb over his knuckles.

Evan settles back against his pillows, unable to meet Tommy’s eyes. “Oh.”

His face is etched with worry and Tommy can practically see the thoughts swirling through his brain. The brain that Tommy loves so much, that’s made Evan the man he is, so readily able to twist Evan’s thoughts and fears until he crumbles from them.

Tommy won’t allow that.

“Hey,” he says quietly, cupping Evan’s cheek. “It doesn’t change anything, Evan.”

Evan’s eyes meet his, and Tommy can see the panic behind the beautiful blue irises. He hurries to amend his statement, shuffling closer to Evan so he can rest their foreheads together, careful to avoid the bruises beneath the bandage. “Not unless you want it to.”

“W-what do you mean?” Evan asks. His voice is small, and Tommy feels a wetness against his fingertips. He wipes it away, smearing the tear against Evan’s cheek, and brushes the lightest of kisses against his lips.

He hasn’t been sure how he was going to reassure Evan about it, but the words flow easily from him now.

“I don’t mind that I found it. Nothing has been ruined for me, because I know that’s what you’re thinking right now.” The guilty flash of Evan’s eyes confirm his suspicions. “You could have proposed to me while we were 10,000 feet in the air with the helicopter spiralling out of control, and I would have said yes. You could have taken me to watch the whales, and you got down on one knee as their flukes crested a wave, and I would have said yes. You could have asked me while we were crusty and hungover and puking our brains out and I would have said yes.”

Tommy kisses Evan’s cheek, his nose, between his eyebrows, before finally pressing a kiss to his lips. He tastes salty, from blood or tears Tommy doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care. “Baby, you have to know you’re it for me,” he whispers.

Evan shudders against him, his breath hot on Tommy's lips. His hands reach out to grasp Tommy's wrist, his grip firm, stopping Tommy from pulling away. Not that he wants to.

“I know I’ve got a pretty bad concussion, but can we just ignore that for two seconds?” he asks. Tommy’s brow furrows in confusion – it wasn’t at all the response he expected. He moves backwards, giving Evan some space, gauging his expression.

“Okay?”

Evan winces a little as he moves forward, and he takes Tommy’s hands in his, his fingers rubbing at the webbing between Tommy’s thumb and forefinger. He looks beautiful, even with the slowly blackening eye and the small tuft of curls sticking up from beneath his bandage. Tommy finds himself marvelling at how lucky he is, as he does at least once a day.

“I am a little sad you found it,” Evan admits, ducking his head and looking up at Tommy through his lashes. “I’d planned a whole day – we were going to go to the Getty on our anniversary and I was going to take you into the garden and propose to you there, not where there were too many people, but so that we could see the city. Our home.”

“Evan I -”

“Let me finish,” Evan replies, flicking Tommy’s nose with a grin. Tommy does as he’s told, shutting his mouth with a snap.

Evan takes a steadying breath before continuing. “But. After today, the accident, and all those beautiful things you said to me, I think I’ve realised that there’s no point in waiting. It doesn’t matter how I ask, right? As long as it’s you and me together.”

He leans forwards again, his mouth ghosting over Tommy’s in the softest brush of a kiss.

“So, Thomas William Kinard, will you marry me?”

It’s like he’d used up all his words in reassuring Evan, because suddenly his response is stuck in his throat. Tommy looks around them, at the basin in the corner, the small table on which lies Evan’s belongings, the monitor attached to the wall that’s recorded the spike in Evan’s heart rate. He looks at Evan, battered and bruised and looking altogether worse for wear, skin the same colour as the sheets in which he’s wrapped, but alive, breathing, and asking Tommy to marry him. Nothing he could say would ever feel like enough to express his love for this man. In the end, his answer is simple, as though he’s been waiting his whole life to say it. And maybe, in some ways, he has.

“Yes, Evan, I will marry you.”

[invisible-lint]

You Jumped In Front of an Arrow

Lucien x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Three drabble requests mashed into one

You jumped in front of a bullet arrow!" 

"And I'd do it again." 

"Please never do that again."

Warnings: Lucien is shot by an arrow but no graphic violence and he's totally fine

Word Count: 1.0k

You pace in the hallway outside his room, waiting for the healer to step out, silently praying to Gods you don't even believe in. You weren't entirely sure what had happened, you just knew that one moment you had been at the edge of the woods with Lucien, looking for some of the plants from the book you had found in the library. Then suddenly, he was pulling you behind him, as an arrow was fired from somewhere in the forest, embedding itself into his chest.

 You hadn't caught sight of who or what it came from; your screaming had drawn the attention of the closest sentries and Tamlin, who came running, finding you kneeling at Lucien's side, clutching his hand. 

Somehow, you had made it back to the manor, although you weren't entirely sure how. Someone had led you to your room, pressing a steaming mug into your hand, but you had abandoned it in favor of finding your way to Lucien's room where you now paced, waiting for the healer to leave. A single arrow couldn't kill him, could it? Tamlin and the healer walk out and you freeze, staring at them. Tamlin walks over, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“He’ll be completely fine. The healer gave him a potion for pain that made him fall asleep, but you can go in and sit with him. He’ll want to see you when he wakes up.” 

“Are you sure? I mean he's your friend, don't you want to be there with him?”

“I do. But I'm going to see if I can track down whoever is responsible. Plus I'm pretty sure he’ll appreciate seeing you more.” 

You just nod, not entirely sure what Tamlin means by that as you slip into Lucien’s room, closing the door gently so you don't wake him. You hover awkwardly by the door for a few moments, staring at the chair near the bed before walking over to sit in it. You stare at his blanket covered chest, watching as it rises and falls, not allowing yourself to look at his face. If you look at his face, you'll find yourself falling into the thoughts you've been having about him recently all over again, reading far more into the situation than you should. He probably saved your life, but that doesn't make it mean anything. 

When you had followed Feyre over the wall, you hadn't imagined yourself pining for a fae. You certainly couldn't imagine a world where he would want you in return. 

You find that as your thoughts wandered, so did your gaze, and now you're staring at his face, eyes tracing the curves of the fox mask, along his nose to his lips, and you wonder, once again, what it would be like to kiss him. 

You groan internally, leaning forward so that your forehead is leaning against the mattress. It will never happen. That you're almost certain of.

You must have fallen asleep, someone is saying your name, brushing the hair that had fallen loose from your braid out of your face. You blink groggily, confused at where you are for a moment before nearly bolting upright when you remember. Lucien chuckles, smiling at you. 

“Easy there. Don't fall out of the chair.” 

“You jumped in front of an arrow.”

“No ‘how am I feeling?’ You're jumping right into that?” You just give him a look. “Understood. And really there was no jumping involved. I stepped in front of an arrow.”

“Okay, you stepped in front of an arrow.” Tears sting your eyes and burn your throat, and you look down at your lap to hide them.

“Yes, I believe that has been established.” Lucien looks at you, trying to figure out why you're acting this way. 

“Why?” You can't help yourself, you look up at him and he sees the tears that have started rolling down your cheeks. “I was so worried. I thought that you were… that I…” 

“Come here.” Lucien pats the edge of the bed. You quickly oblige, willing to do whatever he asks of you in this moment, yelping quietly when he pulls you into his arms, tucking you to his chest, your ear pressed right over his heart. “Do you hear that?” You nod. “I'm alright. I knew I would survive that arrow. But you… you're human. That arrow could have killed you. So yes, I stepped in front of an arrow for you. And I’d do it again.” You close your eyes, listening to his heart beat as you let his words sink in.

“Please never do that again.”

“I would jump in front of a thousand arrows if it meant keeping you safe.” 

You sit up, looking down at him, an eyebrow raised.“I thought you said you didn't jump in front of the arrow.” 

Lucien laughs, brushing his thumb across your cheek as he moves to tuck your hair behind your ear, leaving his hand to rest on your neck. You meet his gaze, and it leaves you nearly breathless. You're certain nobody has ever looked at you this way, as if you hung the moon and stars in the sky. You lean forward, slowly, glancing towards his lips. His hand shifts to the nape of your neck as your lips meet his. The kiss is everything you had imagined it would be and so much more. You kiss him until you need to stop to breathe, leaning your forehead against his. 

“I was hoping to do that while we were out on our walk today. It's why I asked to accompany you. I was going to tell you how I feel and kiss you. Although, if it gets you to kiss me like that again, I'd gladly take another arrow for you.” 

You shake your head. “What if I just kiss you again?” 

He grins. “I suppose that works too.” 

You kiss him again. And again. And again. After a while, you go back to laying with him, listening to his heart beat again, as he plays with your hair, letting his heartbeat lull you to sleep. 

He smiles when he realizes that you've fallen asleep, reveling in the feeling of holding you in his arms, knowing that you're safe. He may not know what will come next for Spring or for Prythian, but there is one thing he does know for sure. As long as he draws breath, he will do whatever he must to keep you from harm.

A/N: Woo! I wrote something! And nobody died this time!

divider by @tsunami-of-tears

[celestiamour]

ft. logan howlett, ororo munroe, laura kinney, wanda wilson, wade wilson, kurt wagner, jean grey, scott summers (separate) x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ how they are when you are on your time of the month┊1k words

contains: some smutty topics for logan & jean, periods and all the complimentary side effects obviously because it’s so generous ahahahahaaaaaaaaa

➤ author's note: oh how i hate being a woman at times, if only some strong mutants could come to life and help ease the suffering…

let’s get this out of the way— yes, logan howlett can smell it and is able to tell when you’re on our period. in fact, he’s even able to sniff out the difference between the blood from menstruation and the blood from injuries. he’s been… “around the block” to put it lightly, he knows what you are going through, will be nice about it, and will use his experience to help care for you. he won’t be as sassy as he usually is even if you are a bit snappy, he’ll get extra food and put aside snacks for you, and he’ll give you as much or as little space as you want. also very willing to eat you out or cuddle-fuck you during it, being a little messy doesn’t faze him and he’s probably done nastier. 8/10, he’ll help you get through it without any complaint.

ororo munroe knows when your cycle is coming before you do, she keeps track of it and is on duty to take care of you the second you wake up with that uncomfortable feeling in your panties. she’s already inside the bathroom attached to your room running a warm bath completely with bath bombs and flower petals, ready to carry you into the water, and to strip your bedsheets for a wash if they get stained. there’s even a cute little wicker basket full of candies and drinks on your bedside with a stuffed animal she brought from target sitting on your bedside. it may seem excessive to some for something that happens every month, but she believes the effort is worth it if it means easing your pains. 10/10, she’s an angel descended from heaven in your eyes.

both of your dads are pretty useless (worst! logan is less knowledgeable than his original counterpart) on the topic and althea gives you a piece of chocolate at most, so you and laura kinney need to take care of each other when shark weeks come around. so many cuddles, kisses, and movie nights while snacking because cravings are a bitch. she’ll pat you on the back and rub your shoulders, muttering little “i know, princess, i know” as you whine. don’t even think of moving if you’re in a position like that, she’ll run around the house to get you pain relievers and a hot water bottle. 9/10, she’s such a wonderful girlfriend.

not sure why, but i feel like you and wanda wilson’s periods would sync a lot? anyhow, it’s a nightmare dealing with mood swings, cramps, and cravings all while taking care of babypool, so there’s a general rule not to take anything seriously during those days because you’re both sensitive and irritable. once it’s all over though, you’re back in each other’s arms and apologizing for anything that might have been said or done (nothing serious happened, it’s just something like “i’m sorry for saying that in an off tone and making you think i was mad at you”). 5/10, could be a lot better but the days afterward are kinda like honeymoon bliss again.

wade wilson is the biggest shit of them all, he definitely says “and that’s on period” every time he finds out, calls you his little ketchup bottle, sends you period cramp moodboards which are just poorly cropped photos of him in the deadpool suit doubled over in pain from a fight— however, he will make you laugh so hard you’ll cry and forget about the ache in your body. 2/10 in terms of helpfulness but 10/10 in terms of funny jokes and conversations. 

you’ll give poor kurt wagner a heart attack every time you whine out in pain and curl up on the couch, clutching onto your stomach and contorting about to find a comfortable position. despite the promises from yourself and everyone else that you will be fine as the aching feeling is temporary, he can’t help but bite his nails from worry. the suffering of people with a uterus will never cease to shock him, they really have to bleed freely like that for a few days every month? he will not leave you alone and is going to treat your every request like an order from royalty. anything you want, you get, and no amount of assurance is going to convince him he doesn’t have to do all that, so you might as well enjoy it while you’re moody and suffering. 

jean grey is one of those people who just don’t have period cramps and still glows despite it all which you are so fucking jealous of. that being said, she’s the best person to be around when it hits. since she’s basically the mansion’s school nurse, she always has snacks, water, pads/tampons of every variety, and pain relievers on hand with so much bounty that she never seems to run out. as your girlfriend, she’s also willing to be a bit sneaky and write you a doctor’s note to get you out of classes regardless of if you are a teacher or a student. she’s also down to fuck even if you’re on your period since she knows orgasms are proven to lessen the pain and she’ll also massage your tits if they are feeling tender (and because she likes your chest no matter the size). 9/10, she can be a bit busy at times but is perfect aside from that.

please hold hands with scott summers and go with him when picking out pads/tampons, he will get overwhelmed by the amount of options and panic buy one of everything. what are wings? liners? what’s the difference between yellow and green, is it lemon or lime? he might forget that you’re more sensitive during these times and slip a comment into a conversation that would make you cry when it usually makes you laugh, but he’ll remind you to stay hydrated, will go out of his way to buy you brownies from your favorite bakery, and will smother you in cuddles. 

[sinofwriting]

Points Have Been Made - Charles Leclerc/Reader/Max Verstappen

Words: 3,363 Summary: Max and Charles find out something happened to their girlfriend. Note(s): Thank you Mak for commissioning this! Mentions of medical stuff, infertility (not reader). One German word, one Dutch word, some French words. Jenson Button appears in this fic, because uh, well, I love him and honestly, I’d like to think (write) him having a weird soft spot for Max (and Charles) after seeing him more recently around Logan.

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Max.” He lets out a hum, his focus on the car and racing line into turn nine. “Box box.” “What?” His eyes flick up to where a yellow or red flag would be waved but there isn’t anything. “I’ve only done three laps on these tires.” “Box box.” His brows furrow beneath his helmet and balaclava at the non-answer.

Pulling off the track and into the pit lane, his fingers tap against the wheel as they pull his car back into the garage. He sits there expecting the mechanics to make some sort of adjustments but instead they start doing what they do at the end of a session, cooling the car down, prepping it for its next use.

He feels a slight pressure to the top of his helmet and then GP is in his line of sight, leaning into his space and car, perfectly helping to cover him with the mechanics and engineers, so the camera can’t see inside. “Something happened, Max. Session is over for you.” His heart starts thudding in his chest, panic threatening to overtake him. “What happened?” His voice is muffled by the helmet but he knows that GP hears it from the way his frown deepens. “Out of the car, Max. We’re doing our best to not let cameras see in, but who knows how long that will last.” Max looks at the mechanics and engineers and only now takes note of how they’re standing. It’s a carefully constructed wall, not allowing the cameras to see him at all. “Alright.” He murmurs.

He focuses on his hands as he disconnects the steering wheel, resting it on top of the car before pulling his gloves off. He doesn’t know why but he expects them to be shaking, but they’re perfectly still, like always. Jaw clenched, he stands, bending at the waist to grab the steering wheel and put it back on before hopping out of the car.

It’s odd to take his helmet off, passing it gratefully to Annie who whisks it and his gloves away.

“What happened?” He asks GP again. A hand is pressed against his back, pushing him to walk and he does. Undoing the near too tight collar of the race suit as he walks. It’s only once they’ve nearly disappeared behind the wall, where outside cameras aren’t allowed that GP speaks. “It’s about Y/N.” And the rug disappears out from underneath his feet.

—

“I’m okay, mama. I promise.” She says, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she rubs at her head. “You're sick. And I know that neither Max or Charles is with you.” “I will be okay, I’m a big girl.” “Your my baby.”

Her heart clenches at her mom’s words. All of her friends growing up and even some now all thought of her mother as overbearing, with the weekly phone calls, daily check ins and texts, but she was her mother’s only child. She grew up knowing that she was supposed to have siblings, that she was never supposed to be an only child, but it hadn’t worked that way for her mother and it had made her protective of her only child.

“I know, mama. But I’m okay.” Her words nearly flatter as a wave of dizziness hits her, but she pushes it away, clutching at the counter with her left hand as her right rubs at her temple. “The weather just changed here in Monaco. Y’know how that goes.” Her mom makes a noise, not believing her. “Pascale will be coming over for dinner, to check on me. Charles' orders. Will you believe her?” “Oh, Kindchen.” Her voice is soft, so reminiscent of her childhood. “It is not that I don’t believe you. It is that you are always the last to notice when you are unwell.” “I will be okay and she will text you to update you. Now go to your book club. I know that it is today.” “It’s not a book club!” “It’s a book club, mama.” She laughs, wincing immediately at the way the movement makes her feel unsteady. “I’ll call you first thing tomorrow alright?” “Alright.” She agrees. “Love you.” “I love you too.”

As soon as her mom hangs up, she takes a deep ragged breath. Her hand on her forehead, that’s damp now with sweat which makes her nose wrinkles, grasps at her phone before setting it on the counter.

It’s only when it knocks into something she realizes she’s had her eyes closed and she doesn’t know for how long. Opening them, she blinks at how bright the kitchen is. Turning her head slowly, her nose wrinkles up again at how the sun is positioned in the sky. No wonder it was so bright.

Letting go of the counter and taking a step towards the living room, she swears when a wave of dizziness rushes over again and she’s clutching at the counter again. The edge of it digging into both of her palms.

“Fuck.” She breathes when it’s passed. She watches as a bead of sweat drips off of her onto arm. She needed a shower. She needed to shower before Pascale got here. With the reminder of Pascale coming in a few hours she takes a few more deep breaths before letting go of the counter and walking.

Only it isn’t just a wave of dizziness that hits her, but a tidal wave and before she can catch herself, she falls to the floor, head hitting the tile hard and knocking her out.

—

“What happened to her?” Max asks, feet seeming to be glued to the floor as GP tries to push him deeper. “GP, what happened?” GP looks around before leaning into his space, a hand on the back of his neck pressing, and Max lets him push his head down. “Pascale found her passed out, she hit her head on the way down. They’re still waiting for test results.” “But,” His mind is whirling, trying and failing to understand what is happening. “Where is Charles?” If GP is surprised by his next question he doesn’t show it. “He’s still out there. He just about told Xavi to fuck himself when Xavi told him to abort his lap.” Normally that would make Max smirk, chuckle but he can’t be bothered. “I need to tell him. He can’t hear it from Xavi or Fred.” “Andrea was going to tell him.” Max shakes his head. “She’s in Monaco. Charles can’t find out by himself.” He looks at GP pleadingly and the older man nods. “I know, go and get out of your race suit and you can go right on over. Fred is expecting you.” Max quickly claps GP on the shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you.” He rushes to say again as he moves quickly to his room.

—

Charles is grinning as his car is pulled into the garage. He doesn’t know what Xavi was thinking, telling him to abandon that lap. It was amazing. And yes he knew that his session was over, cut short due to a new setup that they wanted to try out, but it was fine. This track had always treated him nicely and with this car, it would hopefully even treat him to a win or he mused considering Max, second place.

Climbing out of the car and pulling his gloves and then helmet off, he doesn’t notice the way the engineers and mechanics are blocking the cameras from seeing anything, or the worried looks from Fred and Xavi. He just notices the worry on Andrea’s face when he catches sight of Max, standing just out of sight if you look into the garage, close to where the drivers rooms are. And he does notice the look on Max’s face, it makes his stomach drop and he rushes to him, not even murmuring a thank you to Jean who takes his helmet and gloves from him.

“Max,” he breathes, hands fluttering before they rest gently on his face. “What happened, Mon coeur?” “Charles,” his name is broken up by a stuttered breath. “Did something happen to Sophie? Vic? Luke? Leo? Jos?” Max shakes his head at every name. Dread fills him even more. “Y/N?” Max’s eyes close and he nods. “No.”

“Charles.” Andrea’s voice is in his ear, ushering him forward. “Let’s get you both somewhere private.” He nods, letting his hands fall away from Max’s face, though he can’t help but to grab Max’s hand, intertwining their fingers, needing the touch, and Max clearly does too with the way he squeezes his hand back.

As soon as his driver's room door shuts, Andrea speaks again before Charles can ask anything.

“Pascale called me maybe ten minutes ago. She went over to yours for dinner, to check on Y/N and found her passed out on the kitchen floor.” Charles makes a wounded noise and his already tight grip on Max’s hand grows worse and the barely older man doesn’t even wince or jump. Doesn’t seem to notice. “They’re at the hospital.” Andrea’s voice is somehow even gentler than before when he says it. “They are at?” “Yes.” “Oh, maman.” He murmurs, feeling tears prick his eyes and Max drops his hand, wrapping an arm around him, bringing him close. “They are waiting for test results.” Max says. “GP made me box. He told me and I rushed over here.” “I,” Charles shudders. “Is she okay? I mean she passed out on the floor. How?” “I don’t know. They only just got there or at least that’s what it sounded like.” Charles nodded. “Thank you, Andrea. For getting a hold of GP.” Andrea sends Max a look. “Of course, Max.”

Andrea leaves the room, leaving them alone and Max as soon as the door shuts, wraps Charles completely in a hug, holding him tight as he tries to comfort himself with at least having one of his partners healthy and safe in his arms.

“I,” Charles struggles again. “I should call someone to go be with maman. She shouldn’t be there alone. Not at least till I can get there.” “Charles,” Max starts to say and Charles shakes his head, pushing away. “No, Max. I know it is a race weekend. But it is just a two-hour flight away, I can be back before qualifying if it is not too bad.” “Charles,” he tries again. “I have to go. I can’t just be here while she is unwell.” “Charles,” and this time Max is holding his face, making him incapable of speaking. “I am going with you. Fuck the race. If it is bad, it is not like we will lose our spots in the championship. Everyone else is more than forty points behind, we will be fine. Let me call my pilot, the jet will be ready by the time we get to the airport.” “Merci, Max.” Charles breaths, pressing their lips together. “Merci.”

—

“Pascale?” She mumbles when she opens her eyes and sees the woman sitting beside her. “Did I fall asleep?” She tries to sit up but her head aches, making her groan, and Pascale is gently pushing her back down. “Lay down, sweetheart.” “What?” Her eyes wander around the room as she realizes this isn’t her, Max, and Charles shared place. It’s far too clean, sterile. She tries to lift her arm and winces when there’s a tugging sensation. Her eyes fall to her arm and more confusion builds as she sees an IV. “Pascale, what happened?” “I found you passed out on the kitchen floor.” “But,” she couldn’t have passed out. Right? Her mind struggled to remember it. She knew she had been feeling dizzy, but enough to pass out. “Are we at the hospital?” “We are.” Pascale’s hand pats hers. “I will be right back. I’m going to get the nurse, okay?” She nods and as Pascale darts out the room, her eyes land on someone sitting just outside her room. “Jenson?”

—

“Anything new?” Charles shakes his head, frowning at his phone. “Like before, they knew that she was dehydrated as soon as she came in but they are still waiting for everything else to come back.” “What is taking so long? Is it money?” Max runs his hand through his hair, before he looks at Charles. “Call them, the hospital. Throw your name around, prince of Monaco.” “Max.” Charles hisses. “I am not the prince of Monaco. And I can’t call them. Nothing will happen if I call.” He huffs, slumping back in his seat.

It's silent for a moment.

“Are you,” “Yes, I’m sure, Max.” He reaches over and squeezes Max’s hand before tangling their fingers together, lifting them to give him a kiss. “We will be there soon.”

—

She tries her best to focus on the doctor as they examine her but her eyes keep going to Jenson. Now inside of her room and standing in the corner, arms crossed over his chest as he watches intently.

“You have a mild concussion from the fall. The back of your head will be tender.” “But why did she faint?” The doctor frowns, “Normally I’d have the answer for you. But our lab is abnormally backed up and we are down to one lab technician. As soon as the results are in, I will be back to give them to you.” “Take your time.” She smiles.

Jenson shakes his head when the doctor leaves. “How does Monaco, of all places, have only one lab technician working?” “Jenson, what are you doing here?” He smiles at her, coming closer to her and bending quickly to press a kiss to her cheek. “Max texted me. Asked me to keep you and Pascale company. I was already here in Monaco.” She smiles at the older driver. He and Max’s friendship wasn’t too well known, but they talked often. Then she frowns, because Max had asked him. “Max asked you?” Her eyes then look over at Pascale. “I texted Andrea.” She nods. “Can you tell them I’m okay. There is no need to worry.” “Sweetheart.” “Pascale, I’m okay. I haven’t felt dizzy since I woke up, my head hurts a little from the concussion that’s all.”

Before Pascale can respond her attention is drawn away by the sound of the room door practically being thrown up and two voices on top of each other.

“Cheri!” “Schat!”

—

“We were so worried.” Charles murmurs, holding her face gently. “How is your head feeling?” Max asks, sitting beside her on the bed, arm wrapped around her. “I’m okay.” She smiles at both of them. “My head hurts a bit, but that will go away soon enough.” Charles frowns, fingers gently brushing over her cheekbones, before he drops his hands to hold both of hers. “Are you sure? I’m sure we could get you some meds.” “I’m sure, Prince Charles could get you some meds.” Max whispers in her ear making her laugh while Charles sends him a dirty look, though a smile is playing on his lips. “Don’t listen to him, Cherie.” She smiles at Charles, carefully leaning forward to press their lips together. Before being even more careful as she turns her head to kiss Max.

“Thank you both for coming.” “Of course.” “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” Charles and her both look at Max, eyebrows raised. “Okay, I can think of places I’d rather we be.” He admits. Charles shakes his head, “so silly.” He murmurs, leaning across her to kiss Max. “Now, why don’t we have your test results back yet?”

“There’s a backlog.” Jenson says, grinning when Charles jumps at the sound of his voice. “Max sent me over to keep them company as soon as you guys figured out the game plan.” Charles' entire face softens and Max flushes at the look their boyfriend sends him. “And they only have one lab technician.” Max lets out a curse. “Did you try bribing them?” “I could go try if you’d like.” Max starts to nod, but a knock sounds on the door and it opens.

She watches as the doctor blinks at the two new people in her room but ignores them, focusing on her. “I’ve got your results right here. Hypoglycemia. Low blood sugar and I mean very low blood sugar. When’s the last time you ate?” Her brows furrow.

She remembered eating Tuesday night with Max and Charles before they left. A nice dinner that her and Max made, Charles pouring them more drinks or chopping and stirring things. But she had eaten something the next morning hadn’t she? Her head throbs as she thinks, but she ignores it, trying to remember and winces from both the pain and the realization that she hadn’t eaten anything since Tuesday night.

“Tuesday night. I was going to eat breakfast on Wednesday but we were out of my breakfast bars and then I got so busy and I just wasn’t hungry.” “Are you not hungry often?” “Sometimes. But even then I make sure to eat at least one meal a day, I snack throughout. I’ve never done this before.” They nod. “As long as this isn’t a normal occurrence, I don’t see an issue. But, you need to make sure you are eating often. You don’t want to be back in here because you forgot to eat and it made your blood sugar drop.” “Of course. Thank you so much.” They nod. “I’ll get your discharge paperwork done and as soon as you're finished with the bag, you’ll be free to go.”

—

“When are you guys flying back?” She asks, Max’s head in her lap, her fingers combing through his hair as she leans against Charles. Max makes a face. “We won’t be.”

Charles and him had both talked about it as they got Pascale home and she settled in. Their teams would be unhappy, but it wasn’t like they could be overtaken in the championship. They could live. And they had two weeks after this with no racing. Two weeks where they could make sure she was eating, taking care of herself. And she’d be going to the next race anyway. This had been a sort of one-off due to all the things that had piled up at home.

“What do you mean you won’t be?” “We can miss a race. Max is twenty points ahead of me, I am forty-seven points ahead of Oscar.” “I have so many questions about that.” She murmurs, because god what was this season. Checo barely hung onto fourth in the championship with George hunting him down, Lewis and Lando hunting down George. Barely fifteen points collectively separating third to seventh. Charles snorts. “Many people would like to know the same.” “You should go though. Put more of a lead in the points.” Max and Charles share a look, a bit hard with their positions but they manage. “No.” They both agree. “I can survive not even two days. I’ll go stay with Pascale. Have Arthur stay with me. Or Jenson since he’s here in Monaco.” “No.” They say again at the same time. “You are far more important than another twenty-five or eighteen points.” Max continues. She sighs, looking at them both. “Three stubborn people is way too many people in a relationship.” “I think it’s perfect.” “Suck up.” Max coughs and Charles flicks him on the forehead. “Says you.”

“Boys, settle down.” “Love you.” They chorus. She shakes her head, sighing. “If you will not go without me, I will just go with you.” “You have a concussion.” “A mild concussion. And we all know that you have flown before with a concussion, Charles.” He pouts, “it was just once.” “Twice.” Max coughs and Charles flicks him again.

“I will go with you tomorrow. Just please make the flight later than eight am.” “Done.” Max says, already texting his flight crew. “Thank you.” She starts to bend to kiss Max, when her face is redirected to look at Charles and he kisses her. She expects Max to whine but as soon as Charles is done, Max is turning her head the other way, no longer laying in her lap, to kiss her as well.

@fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @darleneslane @ironspdy @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @eutrizbea @namgification @eugene-emt-roe @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @stopeatread @hiireadstuff

[ameliathornromance]

Your heart thundered in your chest. Everything was a blur, tinged with redness. Redness from blood that dripped from your chin and onto the ground.

You couldn't clearly remember what had happened. It was a nice and sunny day. You had gone on one of your regular walks. Admittedly, today was a little different. 

Your Orc Boyfriend, amazing and wonderful as ever, had brought you back a necklace. He said he found it in a cave full of abandoned clothes and jewels. “Probably left by some bandits or something,” he’d explained. 

When you questioned the stolen item, he nonchalantly waved his hand. “That stuffs been abandoned for years. There was a thick layer of dust on the chest.”

With that in mind, you put on the necklace and hadn’t taken it off since. 

Now it was gone. Scratch marks on your neck from long fingernails were now rising on your skin, red and angry.

The camp was finally in sight. It gave you a burst of energy. Ignoring the pain, you took off into a run. No longer being able to hold back the tears, you released a wail when you entered the camp.

Your Orc was over with his fellows, eating some kind of meat. He dropped it at the sight of you, rushed over and caught you in his arms. “Love? What happened?” He asked, eyes darting all over your body, putting pressure on the gash on your forehead.

Other Orcs took off in search of the healer, while others crowded around you, bombarding you with questions: 

“Who did this to you?”

“They’ll pay for what they did, won’t they?”

“Yeah, of course. We’ll give them a real beating.”

“Everyone shut up!” hollered your Orc.

Once your wounds were tended to and you had calmed down, you and your Orc Boyfriend, along with his group of fellows, all sat in your shared tent, clutching a mug of warm tea in your hands. Since you were in a much calmer mindset now, the memories had come back to you.

“I went to the town, just over the hill.” You started. Instantly, some Orcs snorted and growled, “Fucking humans, always doing this kind of shit.”

“Silence!” Your Orc commanded. They fell silent as you continued.

“There were some noblewomen. They saw my necklace and told me to give it to them.” You gripped onto the mug. “When I said no, they told me I must have stolen it from some other noble woman that I worked for. And…” You fell silent as tears welled up in your eyes again.

The Orc stayed quiet as they watched your tears roll down your cheeks. Your Orc was so quiet you could have sworn that he’d left the tent. 

A loud clap caused you to jump. “Everyone out.” Your Orc said.

All the Orcs looked at him like he was mad. “What? You can’t just-”

“It’s my living quarters, everyone out!” He snapped.

Grumbling and casting disdained glances over their shoulders, all the Orcs left. Except for your boyfriend. He sank to his knees by the bedside, head face down to the sheets. “They will pay for this,” He growled.

He went to leave. To go, order his others to prepare for an attack on the village, to avenge you and restore his honour. But your hand grasped onto his. “Don’t go.” You pleaded. “I… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Your Orc stopped in his tracks. Looking over his shoulder, down at you on the bed, he wondered how anyone could have tried to hurt you. He returned to his position beside you, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “They will pay for this.” Your Orc promised you.

“I don’t want to hear about that right now.” You said. “Please… just… don’t go.”

And he didn’t. When you’d finished your tea and curled up under the covers of your bed, he sat there until you closed your eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

From that night onwards, he vowed to never let you leave the camp alone. Lest something like this happen again. He would never allow harm to come to you ever again. If they wanted to hurt you, they would have to go through him and his kin first.

Revenge could wait. The softness of your breathing was more than enough to soothe his angry heart.

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[sp0o0kylights]

Steve and Gareth as Cousins, no longer a warm-up and now called Lifelines, part three! I’ll throw it up on A03 when I finish the fourth part. 

Prior parts can be read here: Part One / Part Two 

First things first, the most amazing @ sereinpetrichor managed to track down the OG Twitter thread this runaway train is based off of! 

It was this thread by @gatorthots, the Tumblr version of which can be read, here.  All blame for this idea firmly rests on their brilliant, plot bunny inducing shoulders. 

The other, follow up thread I mentioned was this one by Silas, whose tumblr name I do not know. 

As always and forever, shout out to the most amazing @chalkysgarbagefire​ who helps me edit/plot/pats my head while I’m crying in their inbox bc the words aren’t wording right. 

Warnings: Steve and Robin are canon (S3) drugged. I took a slightly (kinda sorta) more realistic approach. Vomit mention, canon threat of violence/guns (the Russian guards) Mention of pantsing/past bullying, Steve and Robin’s drugged asses not understanding personal space, Dustin’s canon...Im gonna go with assholishness? but like, I think its more than he’s a young kid and doesn't quite have the emotional growth/awareness yet in this kind of insane situation to know how to react to the whole address/torture bit (really who does)/its a defense mechanism--and Gareth sort of has a panic attack. 

Whatever the hell they had been drugged with, Steve and Robin went from 'giggly happy fun time' to 'vomiting into toilet bowls while loudly wishing for death’ awfully fast. 

Gareth was not an expert on drugs. He knew Eddie wasn't either (the guy never dealt anything stronger than your average psychedelic--had some agreement with his Uncle about only selling "the 70s basics") and repeated looks towards him proved Eddie was still trying to figure out what Steve and Robin were on. 

Answers hadn't exactly been forthcoming--Eddie's gently made attempts at ferreting out information had only caused more confusion.

Like why the two of them were so freaked out about a gate, or what had made Robin gasp, and then laugh so hard she cried when Steve had made a particularly rough noise then muttered; "Even that sounds better than Tammy Thompson." 

Either way, Gareth was mostly trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do, because sobering up in a busy, public mall wasn't exactly the best idea. 

"I regret," Robin tried to say, in-between gagging. "I regret--hrk--" 

"Me too." Steve moaned, head resting against the stall wall. Gareth, still caught up in panic, had been permanently regulated to door guard while Eddie alternated between sweet talking, rubbing backs and offering quietly whispered advice. 

"Let's go back in time and ignore the whole silver cat thing." Robin continued, slumping back down onto the floor. 

"Wouldn't have mattered." Steve muttered. "Dustin would have figured it out without us. Kid’s too damn smart." 

"So?" Robin grumbled, quietly thanking Eddie as he once again brushed her hair out of her face. 

"So he would have gone down there anyway, which means I'd be down there anyway." Steve concluded. "We shouldn't have gotten you involved though." 

He shakily pushed himself up, staggering to his feet and looking like bambi on ice while doing it. 

Eddie quickly came round to offer his help, hands spread as Steve groaned out a curse and clutched his head.  

The older took a step forward right as Steve lurched back, unbalanced and shaky. 

 "Oh shit." He said, eyes wide as he crashed backwards into Eddie, the latter catching him with a grunt. 

Despite the entire situation, Gareth found himself stifling a laugh as Eddie wrapped his noodle arms around Steve's chest, trying to hold the other up without falling himself. 

"Come on big boy, why don't we just siiiit back down." Eddie said, slightly breathless as he helped guide Steve back to the floor. "There we go…"

They did so outside the bathroom stall, Eddie sinking into a kneel as Steve sort of flopped down on top of him. 

Blinked a few times, like the drop had rattled what little sense he’d managed to recover in the last few minutes. 

A pleased noise came out of his cousin's throat, and holy shit was Gareth going to have blackmail for life, because rather than vacate Eddie's lap, Steve just turned around in it. 

Reached up with one finger outstretched and proved himself to be very much still under the influence as he touched Eddie's nose.

"Boop!" He said, and then giggled as Eddie dropped onto his ass in surprise. 

Gareth watched Robin as she took the whole thing in, from Steve's snickers to Eddie's shocked expression, eyes growing wide in excitement. 

He failed entirely to cover his own amusement when Eddie abruptly found himself with two sailors invading his personal space, each taking turns to boop his nose. 

“Uh.” He managed to get out, blinking rapidly and at a loss for words. “Ah.” 

Steve caught the metalhead’s awkward, red-faced expression and proceeded to drop his head to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter against the man's vest. 

The helpless look his best friend sent him was one Gareth would remember for a long time. 

“O-kay.” Eddie said, frazzled, as Steve recovered far too quickly, turning to rest his cheek against a slim shoulder as he walked two fingers up Eddie’s battle vest and towards his hair. Likewise, Robin had discovered Eddie’s wallet chain, and had begun fiddling with it. 

One finger curled around a strand of brown hair and Eddie jerked his head, removing the tempting piece away from Steve’s hands. 

“I know you’re used to getting whatever you want, your highness.” He said, his own hand smacking against his waist before Robin figured out the other end of his chain ended in a handcuff, “But you of all people should know the hair is off limits.” 

Completely undeterred, Steve just gave him a loose, easy grin. “It’s so pretty though.” He complained, fluttering his eyelashes in a blatant attempt to try and turn on the ol’ Harrington charm.  “You can touch mine if you want.” 

Yeah, Gareth’s blackmail was getting better by the second. 

He might even get a new piece for his drum kit out of it, if this kept up. 

Free weed too, considering Eddie’s blush was now fire-engine red. 

“Man,” Eddie said in a clear bid to deflect the entire situation (and Steve’s fingers) away from his hair, “the last time someone called me pretty was right before I got pantsed—-is Tommy H hiding in one of the stalls again?” 

Steve picked his head up, confusion crashing down his face. 

“Did he do that?” He asked. 

Then, with growing horror; “Do you think I’d do that?” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your whole little court’s M.O.?” 

Steve sucked in a breath, looking downright hurt. "I wouldn’t do that." He insisted, eyes wheeling from Eddie to Gareth and back, as though hoping Gareth would back him up. 

“I’m not--I’m not friends with Tommy anymore.” Steve continued, voice growing smaller as he spoke. “I’m not friends with anybody anymore, except maybe Dustin.” 

It sounded so defeated; trodden on and subdued that Gareth stepped forward automatically, to do--something. 

Provide the fucking comfort his cousin was oft denied and hug the guy. 

As always, it turned out to be the wrong move. 

"Oh thank god." A kid said, seconds after bulldozing through the main door and nearly bowling Gareth over in the process. "I found them!" He shouted over his shoulder as swept into the room. 

“Speak of the devil.” Steve said flatly, and even drugged, he managed to pull himself back together from distressed to stoic in mere seconds. 

The curly-haired kid--Dustin apparently--stormed right up to the pile of humans splayed on the floor, hands on his hips. "What the hell. We told you two to stay put!" 

Steve rolled his eyes as Robin booed him. 

“Have you forgotten what’s happening? Or how we’re kinda in a Red Dawn situation?” Dustin continued, looking like he’d just escaped from a summer camp. 

The kid even had a walkie talkie clutched in one hand, of all things. 

“We know.” Steve and Robin deadpanned at once, before looking at each other; Steve pointing a finger towards Robin and Robin pointing one back. 

This caused the kids to trade their own long suffering, “can you believe this shit” faces. 

"We need to go, and the only way we’re gonna get out of here unnoticed is if we blend in with the crowd." Dustin said impatiently.  “Now come on Steve, get up already, you've had worse.”

"I really don't think I have." Steve muttered, but moved to push himself to his feet anyway. 

Eddie beat him to it, and he and Gareth both hovered nearby in case Steve was still unsteady. 

Thankfully, the kids' presence seemed to sober up Robin and Steve both. 

Not actually sober, that wasn't how drugs worked, but whatever was left of the fun was sucked right out of the bathroom, replaced by two teenagers who were sort of functional on whatever they'd been drugged with. 

Stress and adrenaline, Gareth knew, could overcome a lot of things. Including Russian "truth serum" apparently. 

“Yeah well you're lucky you got found by these guys and not anyone else. " Dustin continued pointedly, before turning his attention towards Gareth and Eddie both. "Thanks for watching our friends, but we've got them from here." 

Gareth made a sort of unhinged, disbelieving noise. 

 “No, no you do not.” He declared, anxiety clawing at his gut at the mere thought of abandoning Steve to two children. 

"I don't think you heard him." The girl stepped forward, braids swinging about her face as she lifted her chin and nailed him with a cold glare. 

 As if this entire situation couldn’t possibly get weirder, Gareth suddenly realized she had a helmet in her hands and knee pads on.

 "He said we got this. So scram." She flicked her fingers out in a dismissive sort of "shoo" gesture.

"And leave my drugged cousin with his new girlfriend behind!?" Gareth challenged right back, emotions far too raw and frayed to care he was snarling at a little girl. "I don’t think so!”

"Cousin!?" Dustin bit out, sounding almost betrayed for some reason, at the same time Robin who'd been climbing to her feet with Eddie’s help, shouted; "I am not his girlfriend!" 

Steve, clearly unwilling to entertain whatever fight was brewing, clapped his hands together. 

"Yes cousin, Dustin. It's a type of family member." Steve said, after they all flinched and looked to him. He at least looked steadier on his feet this time, though Gareth still lingered nearby in case he took a wrong step. 

"I know what a cousin is, Steve!" Dustin shot back. 

“Then why are you acting like a lunatic?” Steve complained, and Gareth got to watch in real time as Steve pulled on the persona he often wore in high school down around him. “You said it yourself, we don’t have a lot of time. Worse, I don't know if anyone saw Gareth and Munson here with us.” 

He jerked a thumb sideways in Eddie’s direction, not that anyone couldn’t figure out who “Munson” was. 

“They stay with us until we’re out of this mall.” Steve finished, before he started towards the door.

One step he was Gareth’s cousin, drugged and vulnerable because of it. 

The next he stood taller, talked smoother, took charge with an aurora that said he expected everyone to listen to him. 

It was fake as hell, but it worked. 

“I know you’ve got a plan Dustin, so spill it.” He commanded as he walked.  

 Dustin, despite all the squawking, did just that. 

xXx 

Of all the things Gareth had expected to see upon escorting their little ragtag crew out of the bathroom, groups of intimidating, mean looking assholes wasn’t on the list. 

He found himself repeatedly nudging Eddie in the ribs, unable to take his eyes off what was clearly a checkpoint as he staggered to a halt. 

It was one thing to be told people were after Steve and the “Scoop’s Troop” As Robin had jokingly named them. 

It was another entirely to see the security guard directly in front of him look over a woman’s ID before apologizing to her, a sleazy grin matching his oily pony-tail as he waved her on. 

They really were looking for someone. 

Not someone, Gareth realized in dawning horror.

Them. 

Robin apparently, came to the same conclusion seconds later, because she snatched Steve and Dustin’s arms both, hauling them backwards. 

“Argue about Dustin’s address later, we need to find a different way out.” She hissed quietly as she tried to slowly reversed direction, movements still a bit sloppy. 

She might have even gotten away with it, had Sleazy Pony-Tail not turned and made eye contact with Gareth right after she spoke. 

His eyes swept over him, then to the rest of the group, freezing like a cat that had spotted its prey.

“Abort, abort!” Dustin sputtered, wheeling about on his heel. 

Erica, whose name Gareth had learned when she kicked him in the shin after he asked why an actual infant was running around with Steve and Robin, pointed towards the escalators before she beelined over to it, ducking into the center and riding it down like a slide. 

Something Eddied was downright delighted to copy. 

Gareth might have enjoyed it himself, had he not been looking over his shoulder to see not one, not two, but four security guards giving chase--and gaining. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuckikity fuck.” He heard Robin chant as she shot past, Steve planting himself at the top as he made sure everyone got down to the next level before sliding down himself. 

"Do not let them leave!" One of the guards yelled to the others, accent clear as a bell. 

"Holy shit that guy's actually Russian." Gareth found himself saying as he skidded across the floor and bolted after the others, Steve hot on his heels. 

He had kinda expected the Russian thing to be some sort of drug influenced inside joke and not an actual, honest-to-God Soviet. 

Which led to the question of why the fuck adult men in security uniforms had drugged random teenage retail workers.

Food workers.

Whatever the fuck one called a two people who scooped ice-cream in sailor costumes. 

"There's another group up ahead!" Eddie yelped, swerving sideways and nearly taking Erica out while doing it. 

Noise erupted ahead of them in the form of foreign shouting and loud, harshly barked commands to “Freeze!”  

‘Oh hell no.’ Gareth thought wildly, as he caught the form of the giant fricken gun the guard closest to him held. 

“Split up!” Dustin howled, and before anyone could comment about how bad an idea that was, Gareth found himself being yanked sideways. 

Steve swore loudly behind him as Robin, who’d crashed backwards, pulled him in the opposite direction and in a second their group broke in two. Gareth, Eddie and Dustin going one way, Steve, Robin and Erica another. 

"This isn’t happening." Gareth muttered, words made in a sort of pleading denial as he and Eddie turned the corner and immediately vaulted over the counter of an Orange Julius. “I smoked or drank or did something and this is a hallucination that is not. Actually. Happening.” 

Dustin at least, was smart enough to dive around the counter instead of over it, sliding towards them on his knees. 

Eddie quickly yanked him down to the floor in-between himself and Gareth once he was close enough to grab, one hand going over the hat to shove the kids head down. 

Annoying or not, he was at least several years younger than them, and Gareth could practically feel Eddie’s protective instinct kick in as he kept his hand on Dustin’s head. 

Together they tried to silence their breathing as the guards’ shouting continued on behind them. 

What was worse than their noises though, was when they unexpectedly and suddenly, went silent. 

Gareth’s breath felt far too loud as the stillness gained a suppressive weight, pressing down harshly against him and making it harder and harder to inhale. 

‘Panic attack.’ He realized, thoughts a touch detached. ‘You can’t afford to have a panic attack right now.’ 

Not when it had a high chance of getting them all killed. 

Slowly he moved his own free hand, placing it atop of Eddie’s, fingers gripping down in a way that was no doubt painful. 

Eddie glanced over to him and Gareth thanked every single time he’d smoked way too much weed, because his best friend immediately clocked what was wrong. 

Turned his hand over, so that Gareth could hold onto it atop Dustin’s hat. 

It didn’t help with the knowledge that his very much still drugged cousin and his equally drugged not-girlfriend were also hiding somewhere, or that there was significantly more Russians than there where terrified teenagers (and one--whatever age Erica was.)  

Flashlights cut shapes into the wall overheard, trailing along the Orange Julius menu. Quiet voices covered even quieter footsteps and Gareth had the sudden realization the probability of there being more than one guard carrying a huge gun, was very, very high. 

Worse?

This part of the mall wasn’t that big. There were only so many places to hide, and as such, only so many places to look. 

Death comes for everyone eventually, but Gareth hadn’t exactly expected it to show up before he hit twenty.

Not that they could do anything but wait. Pray to God and the universe and any other higher power he could think of to intervene, head pressed hard against the wood behind him as the small noises drew nearer.

What he hadn’t expected was for said prayers to get answered in the form of a of a fucking car being thrown into the Russian’s like bowling balls. 

“Run!” Dustin shouted, and Gareth wasted absolutely no time in doing just that. 

The only goal on his mind was to find Steve, get out, and then have a very long discussion about what the hell this all was, in that exact order. 

[jobean12-blog]

In the Middle of Somewhere

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 1,003

Summary: You and Joel are searching for shelter for the night and come across something unexpected.

Author's Note: A few friends have shared the list of 'Reverse Trope Writing Prompts" and I couldn't get over a few of them, especially the "too many beds," one. Thought this would work well with Joel in this setting. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely Daisy @firefly-graphics 🥰thank you! I'll share the list below the cut at the end of the fic.

Warnings: it's fluffy floof and Joel is soft

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The forest seems to holds it’s breath as dusk falls, the rustling leaves and singing birds hushing to a soft murmur. You cling to the fabric of Joel’s flannel, pressed close to his back as he walks cautiously over the dense underbrush.

“How great would it be if we found a treehouse?” you say, trying to keep your voice light even as your eyes dart through the impending darkness.

The trees cast elongated shadows along the ground, their bright green leaves blackening against the deepening purple of the sky.

“I just hope we find somethin’ before the rain,” Joel mutters.

The air is thick with the promise of an oncoming storm and every now and then the distant rumble of thunder echoes through the woods.

You shiver and he stops, turning to look at you with a softness in his eyes.

“Are you cold?”

You swallow hard, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in the safety and warmth of his arms but instead you shake your head no and give him your best reassuring smile.

He studies you, his eyes narrowing and his jaw working hard with the grind of his teeth.

“We’ll find somethin’ soon darlin’.”

After walking for another mile or so you spot a clearing up ahead and you can just make out the outline of several small structures.

“Are those….,” you start, clutching his bicep tighter, “cabins?”

He stops and nudges you behind him.

“Wait here. I’m goin’ to get a closer look.”

“Joel…”

“If anything goes wrong you run.”

Your fingers dig into his arm.

“Darlin’,” he pleads.

He reaches around to run his large hand across your lower back, checking for the gun he gave you.

“Promise me,” he whispers.

“Ok,” you answer after a moment of silence.

He stares for longer than necessary and just as he starts to turn away you grab his face in your hands and softly kiss the corner of his mouth. His eyes are closed with you pull away and when they open again you whisper, “be careful.”

With a nod he quietly moves away from you, motioning to a nearby tree. You move out of sight, your eyes tracking his movement from behind the large trunk as he slowly approaches the cabins.

After what feels like an eternity you see him emerge from the third and last cabin, his steps quick and sure as he walks back to you.

“It’s all clear,” he explains with a relieved exhale. “Let’s take the middle one.”

He takes your hand in his and leads you up the old and worn wooden stairs, glancing around one last time before pushing the door open to reveal an open space with high ceilings and four sets of bunk beds.

“What the…” you trail off, staring unblinking at all the beds.

“Probably a sleepaway camp,” he says with a small sideways smile. “We got lucky.”

You drop your bag to the floor and look around, trying to decide which bed to take and finally picking the top bed of the bunk in the far corner. You step onto the ladder to try it out.

Sturdy.

You throw him a smile and climb up to the top.

“I’ve never slept in a bunk bed before,” you admit.

He’s quiet before replying, “actually, me either.”

Once you’ve had a quick meal you hear the first drop of rain, the rhythm quickly becoming relentless against the wooden roof. Outside, the darkness is dense, the thick rain clouds obscuring almost all the starlight and moon glow.

Lying in bed sleep eludes you as your mind remains alert despite the hour. Each flash of lightning briefly illuminates the cabin, casting eerie shadows that dance across the walls before fading back into darkness.

You toss and turn on the hard wood, searching for comfort.

“Can’t sleep?” Joel asks from the other side of the room.

“No,” you answer softly. “Sorry if I’m keeping you up.”

When he doesn’t answer you let out a quiet sigh and curl your arms around yourself.

The sound of wood creaking makes you sit up with a gasp but when you realize it’s only Joel climbing the ladder you let out a rush of air.

“You could have said you were coming up here,” you tease.

“I’m coming up,” he counters, and even though you can’t see his face you can hear the mirth in his tone.

Your only reply is a light chuckle as you shift over to the far side of the small bed and he climbs in, lying on his side to face you.

“What was wrong with your bed?” you ask.

His hand reaches out across the darkness and closes around your fingers.

“You weren’t in it.”

The palm of your free hand presses to his chest before your fingers curl into his shirt. He tugs you closer, circling one arm around you while the other rests between your bodies, your fingers still entwined with his. When your knee nudges against his he hitches his thigh over yours, surrounding you in exactly what you need.

You nuzzle your face into his neck with a soft inhale then press a delicate kiss just under his jaw. He exhales your name and dips his head to find your lips, capturing them gently at first.

The rain has begun to dissipate and a steady breeze carries the clouds from the sky, revealing the bright moon. It’s light filters through the opaque glass windows, highlighting the features of his face.

At his tentative expression you slowly brush your thumb across his lips, smiling when he kisses the pad of your finger. Your touch continues, tracing his scruffy jaw before taking his face in your hand and bringing his mouth closer.

He presses another gentle kiss to your lips and slides his hand along your waist, tucking you into the curve of his body. A whimper leaves your throat and he groans at the sound, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss and press you harder against him.

@hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @lorilane33 @littleseasiren @lizette50