#she had every right to say people should stop

[legalandnotease]

OK, you got me started.

Maybe you didn't know that. Maybe you honestly had no idea that you were saying something that is a direct attack against people who have gone through the exact mental illnesses Tony had and recognize his struggles as their own.

I have PTSD and depression and let me tell you something straight from the start.

Tony Stark does not represent me or anybody like me. Lose this ridiculous idea that Tony Stark has PTSD. He doesn't. He displays zero symptoms of PTSD.

He has anxiety at best, and is probably a narcissist. Yes, his actions and behaviour are very consistent with Covert Narcissism.

His "fear of loss" is the fear of abandonment, of no longer being able to control those around him.

His "my way or the highway" mentality, his inability to listen to or trust others, his paranoia and inability to accept responsibility.

All are massively consistent with narcissism.

...and before the Tony fans shriek, guess what the main cause of narcissism is? Childhood neglect. QUELLE SURPRISE! That said... His daddy being nasty to him does not absolve him being outright abusive to others. That is the excuse real life abusers use btw.

Whatever he has though: let us stop right now blaming mental health for Tony Stark's shitty actions. The idea that "trauma" absolves him is a harmful and dangerous idea which perpetuates negative stereotypes about mental health.

The sheer amount destructive and harmful things Tony does which cause mass death is what prevents him from being "representation" for mental health.

If Tony was anybody else... nobody would be saying he should not take responsibility for things which actively hurt and killed others because *muh trauma*.

Name a time when Tony was in a safe place to heal. I'll wait.

Every time he retired. He retires MULTIPLE times in between moves. Between Iron Man II and Avengers?

2 years.

Between Avengers and Age of Ultron

3 years.

Between AoU and Civil War

1 year

Between CW and IW

2 years

Between CW and Endgame

5 years.

That is a total of 13 years. Tony had 13 years of relative peace and quiet in which to get some self care and healing.

Compare that to Bucky who is confirmed as having PTSD and gets the sum total of 2 years to recover from 70 years of torture abuse, brain damage, trauma guilt and self-hatred. With NO support network. Unlike Tony, who had various people to support him. And Bucky has to contend with a fuckton of victim-blaming that Tony never did.

You literally just ignored the first part of OP's post, in which they noted that people constantly ignore Wanda's and Bruce's parts in Ultron.

These are excuses designed to absolve Tony of his responsibility for Ultron. Wanda did not mind control him: she gave him a vision.A vision he did not have to act opon. He chose to.

Tony was acting of his own free will and with his own agency the entire time. So was Bruce. This is why people blame Tony.

Unlike say,,,, hmmm I dunno Bucky who was literally mind controlled and had the very capacity for free choice and agency taken away from him, who was literally forced and tortured into doing things.... Tony was making a choice

(But isn't it WEIRD how people- usually Tony Fans) still insist on blaming an actual mind control and torture victim for his actions on the ground that "his body did it" - whilst trying to absolve the guy who was not mind controlled and had full bodily autonomy because "muh good intentions" and "muh trauma"

Yes, that's called victim-blaming.

You ignored how OP pointed out that the illegal arms dealing was Stane's actions, not Tony's, and that Tony shut it down as soon as he learned of it, saying "there are lines we don't cross.

Except... that's not what happened. Tony ran the company for 17 years as an adult. In all that time you're telling me he didn't notice his own stock going missing? He didn't notice the protests against his weapons being used on civilians in places like Sokovia?

The fact that it was only when he realized they were being used on *American soldiers* that he considered the line to have been crossed speaks volumes about Tony.

If he took drugs that were stopping him from doing his job as a CEO that is on him, not anybody else. Just like if somebody took drugs and decided to drive a car, you would not blame the car or the drugs.

Would Wanda not have attacked Tony's mind, then?

Since Tony was alreasdy planning to build Ultron even before he met Wanda, this bascailly makes no difference, but carry on.

Would Nick Fury and Black Widow have suddenly left him alone? Would he not have been dying from palladium poisoning?

How are Nick Fury and Natasha responsible for the stupid and reckless things Tony did when he thought he was dying. Did they make him do them? No. Thought not.

Would he have been able to suddenly change the route his company was taking without his friends turning their backs on him (which they did at first) and Stane trying to kill him?

Actually, yes. He's was the CEO, for goodness sake. He was also a grown-ass 38-year-old man, not a little kid.

You know he could in that capacity just fire Stane right? Right? As soon as he had evidence for his activities he could fire him on the spot? That's what CEOs can do? He could fire the whole Board of Directors if he wanted to.

But even if! Even if he went to therapy! Do you think therapy is a magical cure-all? Do you think people who go to therapy for PTSD suddenly don't have panic attacks anymore? That they don't get triggered, or fall back into their personal hells, or have days where they regress to who they'd been before therapy because healing isn't a straight line?

OK. Let;s talk about PTSD triggers.

People who are triggered may go into "fight or flight" mode. They may freeze. They may lash out. They may start having flashbacks. They may become depressed. They may become withdrawn.

What they do not do is take a highly dangerous object and use it to build abother hightly dangerous object despite warnings that it might be dangerous.

What they do not do is attack helpless unarmed people for 10 minutes with multiple weapons, pinning them against walls and attempting to blow their heads off.

What they do not do is ignore clear evidence for **years** of theft in their company, and ignore evidece their stock is falling into the wrong hands.

Nothing *repeat* NOTHING Tony does in the movies can be put down to him just being triggered. Blaming PTSD for Tony's violent and deliberately reckless actions is vile.

Honestly, shame on you for talking about therapy as if it's the cure-all for the world, as if every single problem life throws at people becomes butterflies and rainbows the instant a person talks to a professional about it all. As if Tony was The Main Problem of the MCU, and his capital sin was in not booking an appointment with a psychologist.

No, SHAME ON YOU.

People already think mental illness is an excuse for bad behaviour and Tony Stans are making this far worse with using conditions like mine as an excuse for everything Tony does.

Whether it be sexually harassing women

Building a murderbot

grooming and blackmailing a teenager,

or trying to murder an abuse victim in cold blood because he was upset about his disgusting daddy being killed.

How many people here, in real life, have mocked and derided Tony Stark as a character because he's a cis straight rich white man?

Let me tell you this right now.

Nobody would make excuses for Tony's actions the way they do if he was not a rich white male.

Just like in real life Tony can get away with things that anybody else would be thrown in jail for because he has money and connections.

Do you really think that poor people can get away with murder like Tony on the ground of abuse or trauma? No. They can't. They also can't get support or therapy. THEY will be persecuted and prosecuted, even for things they were driven to by desperation.

I am going to compare him to Bucky Barnes, fandom's favourite punchbag again because it illustrates this well.

One is working- class from a poor immigrant background who never had the power to say "no" or refuse to do what the high-ups told him. He was conscripted into into the army: if he refused to join up he'd have been imprisoned or worse.

He gets captured, experimented on, tortured, mutilated it, has his "brain put into a blender" and is forced to kill against his will?

What is the reaction? "He's still to blame. He chose to join up, he chose to go on that mission.... he could have escaped, he could have said no...."

Or "his body did it" as is the favourite excuse of Tony fans who want to entirely ignore the fact he had no control, autonomy or choice.

The other is a rich, priveleged guy with inherited money who had the best of everything. He is fully able to tell the government to go screw themselves, to refuse to do what he is told, and to buy his way out of any trouble he might get into.

He *chooses* to to drug himself into oblivion and drink himself silly when there are other options available. He chooses to do reckless things. He chooses to ignore the problems in his company. He chooses to go along with it because alternative is too hard.

He chooses to break multiple laws because his girlfriend is kidnapped. He chooses to mess with a highly dangerous supernatural artefact because he fears loss. He chooses to ignore advice, and people die. Over and over and over again because of his reckless actions and bad choices.

The reaction? "Its not his fault, he was manipulated" "its not his fault, he meant well!" "its not his fault, he's just trying to protect the people he loved"/

Its not about shaming: it is just a simple fact that rich white people can and do get away with the most henious things imaginable because of who they are. If Tony was poor like Bucky or black or Asian he would not be able to.

everyone always focuses on Sokovia and Ultron and Tony's involvement but no one ever thinks about how Bruce was also involved completely because they're both scientists. no one thinks about Wanda purposefully going in and digging in Tony's head, amplifying his PTSD and putting visions of all his friends dead in his head with the intent of making Tony create Ultron

Everyone always focuses on blaming Tony for the bomb that killed Wanda's parents but no one thinks about Tony being so shit faced he couldn't see straight at that time bec he was so deep in self-medicating his trauma that he could not even run his company and that it was Obidiah Stane that was the one in charge of the company and illegally selling the weapons that killed her parents

Everyone focuses on Tony selling weapons in the first movie but no one thinks about how it was Howard Starks company and that Tony was groomed from birth to run it and that he had tried multiple times to make something else of the company but was constantly shut down with guilt tripping until he was kidnapped and he forced the manufacturing to end

Everyone focuses on Tony being "conceited" and "arrogant" and not "caring about anyone but himself" but no one thinks about how every single action he makes in his movies are about protecting the people he loves and cares for. His biggest fear is his friends- not himself- dying. he goes into every battle he's in fully prepared to die and does make the sacrifice play many many times

everyone always focuses on what Tony did wrong, but no one thinks about how much he has grown and how he spends every single waking moment trying to be a better and better man who cares so deeply about everyone and is trying to protect everyone the only way he knows how- and that is with the brain and intellect that had been the only thing about Tony that was ever praised about

[lessi-lover]

before we broke (1) II p.bueckers x reader

you thought that everything with paige had been left behind, you never wanted to open that chapter of your life again. turns out life has other plans for you.

before we broke II p.bueckers x reader 5.4k

"you've been avoiding this conversation long enough, darling." you sigh at the sharpness of your mum's voice as she tries to push you into talking. "i'm your mother. i can read you better than you think." she teases, thanking the waiter as she offers her a glass of water.

"mum it's nothing. it's just-." you stop yourself again because the truth sounds more like an excuse than you were thinking it would. your mum gives you a look, one that says there's no backing away from this as much as you try to close it down.

"it's just not as simple as you think it is." you don't look up from your coffee, absently tapping the mug with your fingers. you hear her sigh absently at your words, her hand wrapping around your wrist. "nothing ever is." she replies gently, her voice comforting but you know her well enough to know she's trying to coax you into making a decision. "but you can't keep pretending like it's not there."

you bite your lip, fighting the urge to spill everything, the weight you were carrying pressing against your chest. it's hard to say it aloud, even harder when you know your mum will see through every word, because she knows you.

"i don't want to disappoint you," you mutter under your breath, barely loud enough for her to hear. but somehow she does. "darling, you couldn't disappoint me if you tried," she says, her hand falling to gently clasp with yours. "i just want to help you, but you have to let me in first."

"i know you're not excited but you should be, darling." your mum says, like she’s expecting you to open up and tell her everything your feeling. she leans across the table, picking up the brochure for your new college. "uconn, honey. it’s a huge opportunity for you. you'll be surrounded by people just as passionate as you, and you’ll be closer to some of the best professors in the country."

"i know, mum." you've heard all this before, the list of reasons why a transfer would be the best option for you right now, but none of it could make it any easier to leave and go to the place that makes your insides crumble.

"it's far from home. but you're going to take care of yourself and not burn yourself out like last time. right, honey?" you chuckle at the concern in your mum's voice that never failed to make you laugh at how the woman could be so overbearing over her last child.

"you're telling me this isn't what you wanted? we talked about this months ago, if your college didn't offer the practical we would set up a transfer for you, honey."

you don’t want to admit that there’s something more to this than just the transfer. it’s not about the college or the course It’s the fact that uconn is still uconn and it’s been five years. five years since you told yourself you were done with it.

you could maybe just convince yourself that there was still slimmest chance of you not making contact with the blonde at all, perhaps you would run your luck round and she would be too busy being the face of women's basketball to wander around the campus.

but you knew eventually the two of you would run into each other and the dread of seeing her face again made your stomach drop more than you'd care to admit. you didn't want to speak to her after so many years apart, the fact that you two had lost each other was for the better and a testament to how hard you'd tried to cut her out of your life.

"mum i really don't want to talk about it." she leans in a little closer to you, the corners of her mouth lifting. “oh, come on. you’re acting like this transfer is a bigger deal than it is. something’s got you all wound up. is it the move? or is it…”

she trails off, and you know exactly where she’s going with this. your stomach tightens and you press your lips together, fighting the urge to snap. “mum, please don’t.”

her voice softens, but there's still an edge and she knows exactly how to crack your resolve. “is it paige? sweetheart, i haven’t heard you mention her in years. you used to be inseparable and then things just changed between you.”

you feel the sting of her name in the air, the same one you’ve cried over time and time again. your breath hitches and for a split second your walls seem to falter. but you quickly paint them back into place, determined not to let your mum see how much her name still hurts you.

“mum, please.” you say it more firmly this time, voice low but cutting through away any space left for your mum to keep asking questions you couldn't answer. “i said i don’t want to talk about it. i need to make this choice on my own.”

~

"tiny?"

you heard a familiar voice behind you, your heart skipping a beat because you knew exactly who that voice belonged to. you slowly spun around and there she was. azzi, standing there with a surprised look, the same toothy smile she had all those years ago back in minnesota.

"didn't expect to see me?" she teased, the familiar pull of arms bringing you in, and for a moment, everything felt too familiar, like you'd never left behind the people you once knew like the back of your hand. the force of her hold knocked the air out of your lungs, the girl had clearly grown since the last time you saw her.

“you’re... you’ve changed,” you smiled, a small attempt at pretending you weren’t caught off guard by how different she was, how much everything had changed since the last time you'd seen each other.

she smiled, a flicker of sadness in her eyes as she looked you up and down. "guess so," she said lightly, her voice carrying a tone that told you she wasn't the only one that was hurt from the aftermath of everything. "it’s been a while, huh?"

"you really kept up with your studies didn't you?" azzi raised an eyebrow, clearly referencing to how as a teenager you were the most avid studier and had been insanely gifted in school. "i’m living on campus now, i got signed after i finished my contract at st johns."

"wow, seriously az?" you blinked in surprise at the brunette, trying to mask your shock because you knew a part of you felt guilty for not reaching out to azzi over the years. you hadn’t known. you hadn’t even thought to check in with azzi about where her career had gone, but you were grateful she wasn't as bitter about it as you thought she might.

"yeah, didn’t think i’d ever be here either." she admitted, her body shifting slightly in its place as if she was thinking about something you couldn’t quite decipher. "but life’s funny that way." you nodded back at azzi, thinking about how you also never planned to move so far from home. "yeah, it sure is."

you didn’t want to admit there was more to it. you didn’t want to admit that there was a part of you that had missed azzi, missed the simplicity of what was supposed to be a lifelong friendship, before everything had become complicated. but that part of you was buried deep. it had to be. after everything you couldn’t afford to let it come to the surface.

you told yourself there was no chance of crossing your old path, that the odds were slim. after all, azzi had her life, her career to focus on. basketball was her world, and you were just a road of her path. maybe if you stayed in your lane, kept to yourself bar azzi, there’d be no reason to run into her. no reason to confront the past.

but no matter how much you tried to avoid it, you and azzi both knew the truth. you and the blonde would cross paths eventually. and when it happened, you had no idea how you’d react, but you knew it would hurt. the dread of seeing her again, of having to speak to her after what she did, had settled deep in you, and no matter how hard you tried to push it away, it stayed.

“wait, so why are you here at uconn? i thought you were still back in minnesota?” she said, her voice tinged with confusion that you had been expecting. “what happened?”

you sighed, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “the practical part of my degree wasn’t available back home.” you explained, glancing up at her. “so, i had to transfer to finish it here.” “your degree?” azzi asked, her eyes shifting to the couple books under your arm. “what are you studying, then?”

“i'm doing a major in sociology,” you said, shrugging. “it’s all about understanding societies, human behaviours, and social issues. but it’s just a lot of research and case studies. especially in the final year so i've been told.”

azzi nodded slowly, looking impressed. "sounds pretty intense. i’m doing communications, so it’s a lot of writing and media stuff. i can’t even imagine doing any of that data and theory work."

you chuckled, relieved that the conversation was light. "yeah, it's tough sometimes. trying to make sense and apply it to real-life situations." you frowned as she laughed and rolled her eyes. "that along with basketball i couldn't handle."

"you should come over," azzi suggested as she turned towards the student building. "we can study, grab some food, just hang out. it’ll be fun." you hesitated as she looked at you, the thought of spending time with her again made your stomach twist in an uncomfortable way. "yeah, maybe," you muttered, trying to keep the edge from your voice. "but... i don’t know. i have a lot of stuff to catch up on."

"come on!" azzi pressed, nudging you gently. "we’ll get through the work together. it'll be fine." you knew it was pointless to argue with the girl, and the way she looked at you with the same expression from when she was your best friend, made it harder to say no. "alright, fine. i’ll come by i need to head over there anyway."

azzi had been your best friend for longer than you could remember. it was her with the chunky shoes and bright blue backpack that had taken you under her wing on the first day of school. she always claimed your worried nature had drawn her to you in the first place, it's hard to believe somebody as uptight and focused as you were could be such good friends with such a carefree and friendly person like azzi.

but it worked. azzi had introduced you to all her friends and before you knew you were telling your parents you would be home by 5 for dinner because the lot of you were going to play at your local courts. her friends never minded azzi bringing you, in fact many of them were disappointed whenever azzi would leave you behind because you had homework to do.

the brunette had been your ride or die. so it hurt to lose such an important person in your life. the first few months you had to stop yourself from making contact because you knew it would just make things worse. but you guessed that all roads lead back to each other and well you and azzi luckily had as well.

everything would be fine. nothing would go wrong.

until you walked through the door.

your stomach dropped as finally azzi opened her dorm and you walked inside, a tall blonde leaning on her kitchen counter thankfully in conversation with another girl you didn't recognise.

it gave you a moment to finally take her in.

gone was the heap of blonde hair who used to sit on your bedroom floor whilst you'd untangle it for hours and pretend to massage your fingers after throwing basketballs at your head, who'd laugh with you until you couldn't breathe.

in front of you was still paige though. your paige.

you knew that paige had always been fond of fashion when you were growing up, she'd clearly stuck with this fondness as you looked over her. you'd been the person she would sit up in bed with and talk to for hours about everything and anything.

gone was the tall, willowy teenager that she once was; now she stood taller, her muscles defined even through the thick fabric of her jumper. her arms were more defined, probably credited to the hours you guessed she spent training.

you couldn't help but let your eyes roam over her form as she leant against the counter. there was a new edge to her, her smile although still familiar to you, it lacked the feelings it once brought you.

paige had always been physically stronger than you. she could easily overpower you during your childhood pinning you to the floor with a grin that always told her intentions. you were forever teased by her for your slightly less builted frame, the blonde had won quite the count of 'fights' that she never failed to remind you off.

she had bettered you in strength for all of your life, you never minded though because playing as many sports as paige did was never really quite your thing. you had always preferred to lie on her bed, waiting for her practice to end before she would come home to you again.

of course, over the years, you’d both had your moments. growing up together, it was only natural that you shared quite a few. but the biggest moment of all was realising that your feelings for each other weren’t the kind you had for just any best friend. it was different, ike the way your friends talked about liking boys, except it wasn’t boys. it was paige.

those feelings, as confusing as they were at first, slowly turned into something deeper. without warning, the two of you had become each other's first everything; the first kiss, the first time you truly understood what it meant to have a special someone. but that was a secret, one you shared only between the two of you, one that never seemed to get out because it lived in every moment instead.

you and paige had never let it out to either of your families. you weren't afraid. just comfortable. to comfortable in the feelings of just being each others person, nobody needed to share that with you because it was yours for the keeping.

swallowing the feelings that washed over you, you screamed at your body to move, urging them to move further into azzi's apartment instead of the frozen position you were currently stuck in. a sharp inhale from the blonde forced you to close the distance between the two of you.

azzi's eyes flickered to you, her gaze lingering on you as if she was weighing the situation, wondering who would speak first. she clearly hadn’t expected paige to be here, and paige well, paige clearly hadn’t expected you to walk in either.

the girl paige had been talking to clearly noticed the tension and decided to leave, quickly packing up her things before heading to the door with a confused glace to the brunette beside you.

paige’s eyes met yours and for a split second, time seemed to pause. the years apart washed away. all the things left unsaid and said hung between you and yet, neither of you tried to move. it was as if the weight of everything came crashing down and neither of you knew how to escape it's claws.

paige snuck a glance at you, stopping herself from gasping as her breath got caught in her throat. much like herself, you had also changed over the years apart.

gone was the shorter, smiling kid that she used to force to practice 3's in the garden and was always tucked into a new book, instead replaced by a confident, composed woman. but you looked at her like there was no history between you, paige felt her heart pang as you looked at her so blankly.

paige moved towards you with a smile, but azzi quickly cut her off by bringing her into a hug. you watched as the brunette whispered something in the blonde's ear that she nodded at in response. "hey." you waved softly and paige could feel herself almost cry at how much she had missed your voice.

"hi." the basketballer responded, her tone wary but she maintained a somewhat confident smile, the two of you staring at each other for a moment before you both pulled your eyes away. you both hesitated to what would be the most appropriate greeting, the two of you stumbling towards each other before azzi stepped in.

paige glanced at azzi, leaving just enough space for you to face each other fully. you shifted on your feet, your hands fidgeting by your sides, while paige seemed rooted to the spot, her blue eyes darting across your face like she was trying to memorise every detail.

"so," paige began, her voice cracking slightly as she cleared her throat. "i didn’t expect .. this." she gestured vaguely between the two of you, her nervous energy palpable as she played with the strings of her jumper. "yeah, me neither," you admitted, your lips twitching in what was supposed to be a smile but felt more like a grimace.

it was azzi who finally broke the silence again, stepping back into the conversation with a casual air that felt just a bit forced. "well, it’s been a long day, and i’m starving. how about we eat before the awkwardness actually suffocates us all?"

you chuckled softly at her attempt to lighten the mood, but your smile didn't reach your eyes, they flickered back to paige, who gave you a small smile that didn’t mask how clouded her head was. "good idea," you replied, latching onto azzi’s suggestion like it was a lifeline.

"let me guess, azzi dragged you in here kicking and screaming?" paige teased lightly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned back in her chair, her posture relaxed but her eyes still as sharp as ever. "something like that," you replied with a small laugh, glancing over at azzi, who grinned knowingly. "she can be very persuasive when she wants to be."

"so," azzi interjected, leaning back in her chair with an almost smug look, her drink resting loosely in her hand, "this is... cosy." you shot her a warning look, but azzi’s grin only widened as she raised her eyebrows at paige. "you two catching up on old times, huh?"

paige shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable but trying to play it off with a tight-lipped smile. "something like that." she mumbled as she looked down at the floor. "yeah, definitely a lot to catch up on," you muttered under your breath, your fingers nervously tracing the rim of the drink azzi had offered you.

"oh, i’m sure," azzi teased, her tone innocent but her knowing smirk doing nothing to hide the fact she was thoroughly enjoying this. "must be nice to finally see each other after... how many years has it been now?"

"azzi," you warned, your voice low, but she just shrugged it off like always. "what? i’m just making conversation," azzi said with an innocent smile, though the mischievous glint in her eye gave her away. "it’s been a while," paige answered, her voice firm as she finally looked at azzi, her jaw tightening slightly. "but yeah, it’s good to see you."

you felt paige’s gaze shift onto you, the weight of her stare almost too much to handle as your heart thudded in your chest at the familiarity of everything. "good to see you too," you murmured softly, your voice barely audible but enough for both of them to hear you.

as paige fiddled with the bracelet around her wrist, azzi’s eyes zeroed in on it. "wait, is that the bracelet you got after the state finals? the one drew gave you?" paige glanced down at it and nodded with a smile. "yeah, he'd been saving for months before that game."

"that game was insane," azzi said, leaning back in her chair with a grin. "you hit the buzzer beater, and the entire gym exploded. i thought the roof was gonna come down." paige chuckled at the memory as she twisted the bracelet between her fingers. "yeah, that was definitely a moment i’ll never forget."

"i didn’t just hear about it after the fact," you said quietly, your voice cutting through their conversation. paige and azzi both turned to look at you, paige’s brows furrowing. "what do you mean?"

you shifted in your seat, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. "i was there," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "i was in the stands that night. i saw it happen." paige’s lips parted, a flicker of shock crossing her face. "you were there?"

"a group of my friends had one a few tickets from some trivia competition at our local bar, it was lucky it happend to be a final because i don't think they would've gotten me there otherwise." your cheeks flushed bright red as you tried to explain how you had ended up at her match despite never liking the sport as a kid.

"i wish i'd known you were there." paige admitted, feeling her eyes burn into you as you stiffened in your place. "you were so good, i didn't miss that." you replied, messing about with the band around your wrist as paige and azzi stood before you.

paige chuckled as she crossed her arms. “you? at a basketball game? now that’s something i'd pay to see.” she teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “last i checked, you couldn’t stand the sport. something about it being just people running in circles?”

you laughed, the sound nervous but genuine. “yeah, well, i stand by that, it’s still just running in circles. but… that night was different, it wasn’t about the game. it was… you.” you felt your face flush at the obvious pride of the blonde in your voice.

“i must’ve been pretty impressive to get you to sit through four quarters of it.” paige joked, throwing her head back as she laughed. “oh you have no idea. but seriously you were amazing that night, paige. the energy in that gym was unreal. and then you hit that shot, and it was like everything stopped for a second before it just exploded.”

despite that basketball was paige's one true love, the only reason you ever faked interest was to avoid upsetting her or making her feel like you weren’t being supportive of what she wanted to be. so, you let her sit you down time and time again to explain the rules, the fouls, the positions. all so you could cheer her on properly during her games, not that you ever understood anything. still, you never missed a single one.

that didn’t stop her from dragging you into the sport at every opportunity. her favourite was planting you in front of the basket, enlisting azzi's brothers to fire shots your way, laughing every time you flinched from the contact of the ball against the backboard.

you never lasted long before you’d sprint off, throwing your arms up in defeat when the blonde would tease you. but she’d always chase you down, grabbing your wrist and hauling you back, determined for you to make at least one three pointer. she’d promise to let you go afterwards, but you never did shoot that three pointer anyway.

"so i take it your growing love for basketball hasn't really changed then?"

~

paige couldn't help but notice the little changes in you. the way you seemed a bit more steady now, your posture less sunken, your eyes a little less hesitant when meeting hers. you weren’t the same shy girl who used to shrink into the background because that's all you wanted was to be invisible.

there was a maturity that you actually wanted to be noticed now, a relisation that she would have never expected. yet, as she watched you laugh at azzi’s latest comment, something familiar flickered. your laugh was the same, the same sound that the blonde would try her hardest to bring out.

your smile, too, hadn’t changed, the same curve of your lips that made it hard for anyone to stay mad at you, no matter how much you tried to hide it behind a veil of indifference.

you’d grown, that much was clear, but in some ways, you were still the same to her. and despite the time and distance between you, there was a comfort in knowing that the things she had loved about you hadn't changed. and for all the changes, paige realised some things never needed to.

paige could see the shift in you before you even spoke. the subtle way your eyes darted aimlessly away from the conversation, the way your smile faltered, just for a moment, like you were trying to hold yourself together. the room felt suddenly too tight, the noise too loud, the lingering feelings pressing down on you.

it had been fine at first, comfortable even. but now, surrounded by all the familiarity, memories began to flood in, too many and too fast. paige noticed the way your fingers twitched, your breathing slightly uneven. she knew you well enough to recognise the signs you were becoming overwhelmed.

without saying a word, you stood up abruptly, excusing yourself with a tight smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. paige opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it, watching as you made your way to the door.

you didn’t even glance back as you shut the door behind you, the slight smell of weed in the hallway hitting your face like a stone brick. you leaned against the wall, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself, the noise from inside azzi's apartment muffled by the distance. it was quieter out here. easier for you to breathe.

azzi watched you leave her dorm, she could see the concern in the blonde's eyes, the hesitance to go after you. without missing a beat, azzi leaned in slightly to paige.

“go,” she said softly, but with an air of certainty. paige’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, confusion littered in her features. “what?” paige asked, her voice quiet and unsure what azzi was insinuating.

“she’s not okay. go after her. she’ll need you.” there was no hesitation in azzi’s words, no second-guessing. she knew you well enough to understand that sometimes, a little space was needed, but not too much. paige needed to be there, not just to calm you down, but as someone who would understand you. she always had.

paige hesitated for a second longer, then nodded, a soft sigh escaping her lips. without another word, she pushed herself up and moved towards the door. paige was convinced she was the reason why you'd left in the first place so why would azzi think her coming to check on you would even really help at all?

she took a slow step closer to you. her presence was calming, never demanding, just there. her hand gently brushed against yours, a reassurance that you weren't alone. "hey," she said. her voice steady and confident, like it always had been when you were younger, she had always known exactly how to calm you down. "it's okay. breathe with me."

you glanced at her and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. your connection was still there, that understanding and you felt like she could read every thought racing through your mind. she took a slow breath, offering you to copy her and you followed her lead, inhaling until the tightness in your chest loosened and your breathing returned to it's normal pace.

paige gave you a small, encouraging smile, her thumb gently rubbing over the back of your hand, grounding you with the simple, familiar feeling of her skin on yours. "you remember how we used to do that when things got too much? just breathe and focus on me." she told you, reminding you of the countless times you’d done this when you were a teenager.

you closed your eyes for a second, your breath had evened out, and the chaos of thoughts ceased their efforts. you hadn’t realised how much you missed her, how much she always anchored you, until now.

"you’re okay," paige murmured, her voice calming the sea of emotions that had been building their charge over you, her eyes holding yours with that same control that used to be your safe place. "we can figure this out. but right now, just breathe. i'm not going anywhere. i'm staying right here."

paige didn’t rush to fill the silence that had overtaken. instead, she gave you the time you needed, letting you breathe and collect your thoughts. “i know we’ve both been… through a lot. but i think, maybe, we deserve the chance to figure this out. together.”

“thank you,” you whispered as paige tried to keep her reaction minimal, though her insides were screaming for her to try and salvage this. "for... not pushing. for giving me space to figure things out."

paige’s eyes softened as she gave a small nod, her hand briefly squeezing yours before she pulled away. "anytime," she replied quietly, a smile tugging at her lips. "i'm not going anywhere."

"maybe we can start with something simple." paige stumbled over her words, suddenly feeling all the nerves she’d been suppressing rise to the surface. "i was thinking... maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? just the two of us. to catch up properly." the request hung in the air between you both, her gaze full of uncertainty but also hope, because she was bracing herself for your rejection she feared was coming.

"paige..." you started, your voice tight as you took in her nervous energy. you could already tell by the way she’d shifted her stance and the way her eyes searched yours that she was preparing for the worst. you noticed the subtle way she’d distanced herself from you all evening, the way she’d never once leaned into you like she used to, and the space hurt more than you’d thought it would.

her voice cracked slightly, trying to salvage what was the broken parts of your relationship. "please. just give me time with you?" she reached out to you, but as her fingers hovered near yours, you instinctively pulled your hand back, not wanting to give her any false hope of something happening again. she noticed, and her hand dropped to her side in defeat.

"paige, i’m not sure..." you trailed off, the uncertainty in your voice betraying the thoughts circling in your head. she could hear the reluctance, but the way she held herself, so desperately told you all you needed to know.

"we were close once. you were everything to me. i want to know what’s been happening with you. really know. not just surface stuff because we have to." paige’s words felt like a blow to your chest, not because they were harsh, but because they were so painfully true.

paige used to be your everything. she was yours. the only person who understood you in a way no one else ever could. she could read you like a book, inside and out, you could never hide from her even if you tried. you had shared everything with her. she was the person who could mend you when you felt like the world was falling apart, the person who could piece you back together.

she had torn you apart though.

it hadn’t been easy, watching everything slip away after the distance between you two grew. the awkward silence when your family members asked what she had been up to that used to feel so comfortable became unbearable. the times when you would have done anything just to spend a second with her became just a memory you couldn’t quite forget.

you couldn’t look at her then, not with the honesty in her eyes, not with the way she seemed to still see right through you like always. it was the same as before, as if nothing had changed at all, despite everything that had happened in between.

"i’ve missed you. more than i can to admit." the words stumbled out before either of you could stop them, and you felt them hit you like a freight train. crashing into you at full speed as you tried to hold onto the rails. "come on, just one coffee. it’ll be like we’re picking up right where we left off, five years ago. just two people catching up. no big deal, right?"

there was a flicker of hope in her eyes, and despite the walls you’d spent so long building up, the sight of her made your heart ache. she was trying so hard to bridge the gap that seemed impossible, but the sincerity in her words made you want to say yes so badly.

you hesitated at her offer, still battling with yourself to forgive the blonde. "alright. one coffee." you whispered, the mountain of tension between you falling by your sides. but as the words left your lips, you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of mess you were getting yourself into.

~

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Just Too Important - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: They're back! They're obsessed with each other! Ben once again is proving that he's the grumpiest old man to ever grumpy old man! Enjoy!

Title from Snooze by SZA

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary/Warnings: You and Ben head to Costco. Takes place about two months post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, pre-established relationship, mentions of smut

There were only five things Ben had ever really fucking loved. Loved with his whole goddamn existence, so much he could probably kill himself with it if he tried.

He’d loved his mom. Loved her in a simple, pure way that he’d probably taken for fucking granted. She had been secure. The only person Ben had known wasn’t going to hate him for being a fuck up or problem. She’d pleaded with his father when Ben had been sent away. Kept in contact with him when she wasn’t supposed to. Still thought of him as just Ben, even when he’d given her every reason not to. Ben had loved his mom because she was his mom. He’d grieved her in drinks and silence when she died, and known that—compared to what he’d been before—she would’ve been proud of him now. Living a life that wasn’t violence and glamour. A life that was just stupid fucking ease and perfection, with a beautiful wife and smart son, in a comfort he’d never imagined he’d get to have.

He loved the movie Legally Blonde. His wife was never allowed to fucking know that.

He loved Ryan. The kid was a fucking genius, and Ben wasn’t sure how the hell Homelander had a single hand in creating him. He was kind and smart and determined, and a purely good fucking person. He’d been born from a long line of deeply fucked men, but he read books and cried when the dog died in a movie. He fucking loved school, and liked people, and tried so hard to be normal that Ben was sometimes worried he’d hurt himself. Ryan never needed to fucking apologize for having powers. He never needed to feel guilt for the shit Homelander had done, and never needed to repent like Ben had. He was just a fucking kid. A kid who sometimes woke up crying because he’d had a nightmare about his father—because they all did—and who’d apologize for waking Ben after. Ben really wished the people he loved would stop fucking apologizing to him.

He loved dancing. His wife already knew that one, but Ben was pretty damn sure she didn’t know just how much he loved it. It was reliable. Simple. Something his mother had made him learn, and something that he could use to make his wife fall into his arms and giggle against his chest. A way to use his body that wasn’t for destruction, an excuse to touch Her until she gave him a perfect, happy smile, and he somehow loved her more.

Because that was the thing Ben loved above every other goddamn thing in the universe. Loved more than the universe. The universe was fucking pathetic compared to how much Ben loved Her. Every single fucking thing about Her. How She smile and laughed and moved through the world. How goddamn kind and clever and perfect She was. All Her big fucking words and Her smart fucking mouth and Her sharp, beautiful features. How She was a fucking brat and a problem, and Ben would never want her any other way, because he was the luckiest fucking pussy in the world for this menace of a woman to love him back half as much as he loved Her. Lucky that She trusted him, looked at him like he was some sort of fucked up savior, and always touched him like she could never do anything better with her hands.

She was perfect. She was a fucking goddess, and every time Ben reminded Her of that she’d flush that pretty color and bury her face in his arm. Right where she goddamn belonged.

You can’t just say that, Ben-

I can say whatever the fuck I want, Sunshine. He’d press a kiss to the top of Her head, squeezing his hold on Her body. I fucking love you, and you’re a goddamn miracle. These pussies should be grateful to be in your goddamn presence.

I think you’re a little bias. She’d mumble between their heads, but Ben would hear the stumble of Her heart, feel her lean further into his body, and he’d smirk.

I don’t fucking care. He’d tangle a hand in Her hair, tugging it back so she was looking at him with wide, blown out eyes.  You’re fucking perfect. 

She’d smile at him, and Ben’s ribs would bloom and glow with how fucking beautiful She was. How She was all fucking his, to care for and tend to and love. For the rest of goddamn time, Ben got to fucking have Her.

You’re such a dramatic cunt, Benjamin.

He’d chuckle. You fucking love it.

And that would be the end of it. Wherever they were, Ben would find a place to fuck Her in peace, she’d cum all over him—filling the room with a million colors and dancing lights, bursting into flame and screaming his name—and Ben would make sure that she understood. Really fucking got that Ben had never been good at loving things, but loving Her was the easiest thing in the goddamn world. That he’d love Her until the world was fucking razed and scorched and She wasn’t there to love anymore.

Even then Ben would probably just fucking follow Her. That might be the only thing that one day got him. If She figured out a way to die, she wasn’t going to do it without Ben at Her side. She was alive inside of him—infinite and holy, fucking stronger and brighter than the goddamn sun—and Ben never wanted to know a life without Her again. 

She’d hate the idea of Ben going just because She went. She’d shove his chest and snap that he’d need to keep living without her, because she loved him too much to want him to die. And Ben would roll his eyes, grumble an agreement, and keep fucking knowing that if they went out, they were going out together.

Everything was so fucking beautiful when Ben had Her to share it with. Without Her he’d just be an old fucking asshole, chasing Her in shadows and songs, sitting at Her grave until he worked out how to turn the stone back into the only person in the world that really fucking mattered.

It was a damn good thing they were both immortal.

The world would not fucking like it if Ben had to keep living without Her.

He’d do anything for Her. He’d burn countless worlds to ash, then rebuild them just for Her to have. He’d refuse to destroy things, because She was good and would never want anyone to be in pain in Her name. If She demanded it, he would keep living, but he’d drive himself mad trying to bring Her back.

He’d learn to raise the dead. To find wherever the fuck She’d gone and pull her back to his side, where he’d keep Her safe and happy and smiling.

Christ, he’d do anything just to make Her smile.

He’d even let Her drag him here, to this massive square building that seemed to be some weird sort of grocery store. 

But Ben didn’t remember grocery stores selling TVs, or mattresses, or toys. Grocery stores didn’t sell watches. Or fucking pills and makeup, just a few aisles apart. 

Where the fuck are we. He muttered between their heads, and She looked back to him with an amused grin.

You drove us here, Ben.

Because I value my goddamn life, Sunshine.

Shut up-

No. He leaned down, kissing the space between Her eyes with a grin. Tell me where we are, brat, or I’ll fuck the answer out of you.

She wrinkled Her nose at him, even as Ben heard Her heart flutter slightly. No obviously public sex, you horny old cunt-

I never said we’d fuck in public, darling. This place is fucking huge, I’d find somewhere private, and then make you all dumb and pretty on my cock. Ben winked at Her, and Christ, she was beautiful. Wide, glossy eyes and a parted mouth, already putty in Ben’s hands just from his fucking words.

We’re at Costco. She said, a little breathless between their minds. It’s a superstore. 

Ben frowned. That didn’t make any damn sense, and he’d have a lot of time to fuck Her later. He needed to understand what in Christ she was talking about. 

What the fuck is a superstore. Did they figure out how to shoot up buildings with V and nobody fucking told me-

She laughed, wrapping Her arms around his neck with a shake of her head. No, Ben, it’s a physically large store that sells, like, everything.

Everything.

Pretty much, yeah. She shrugged. That’s why we’re here.

Ben nodded slowly. For the house.

Exactly. She smiled, Her voice soft and teasing between their minds. Good work, Pretty Boy.

Shut the fuck up, brat. Ben pulled Her half up his chest, kissing her until he got a breathy moan, and leaned back with a smirk. What do we need.

I, um… She blinked at him, her eyes a little glazed as Ben just grinned at Her. Fucking Christ, She was perfect.

Need some help there, Sunshine?

Fuck you-

Ben laughed, squeezing his hand on Her waist. No obviously public sex, darling-

Shut up. She muttered, and Ben’s grin only grew, because She tangled her hand in his and leaned further into his body at the exact same time. I made a list.

A list-

For what we need. And, She shot him a stern look, rising slightly on Her toes to hold his gaze. We’re sticking to it. No buying things we don’t need, just because you see them. 

Ben frowned. Why the fuck would I get shit we don’t need-

Because you’re a child, my love.

I am not a fucking child-

Yeah, you are. She gave him a soft, teasing grin, and Ben really didn’t know how to actually be annoyed with Her. Not when She was so goddamn beautiful, and looking at him with such adoration, and felt easy and happy around his skull. You’re a massive fucking man baby, Benjamin, and you’re going to see something shiny and try to buy it.

Fucking- I’m not a goddamn pussy with no self-

She pulled him into a slow, deep kiss, half climbing up his chest and molding into his arms fucking perfectly, and he groaned. She’d given him a blowjob before they left the house—Ryan was off at school for the day, and She was a horny fucking problem—and Ben could still taste himself in Her mouth. Mixed with coffee and chocolate, and Her. Always just fucking Her, smiling against his lips and safe in his arms. He could feel the cool metal of Her wedding ring when she tangled her fingers in his hair.

They had to finish this shopping shit right now, so Ben could carry Her to the car and fuck her stupid in the back seat.

You’re my man baby, Pretty Boy. She said between their minds, and leaning back to give him a wide, perfect smile. I love you.

I love you too, Ben grunted, leaning down to kiss to Her brow. You fucking brat.

She hummed, Her smile wide and unrestrained on her beautiful face. Ready?

Ben nodded, grabbing Her hand and pressing one last kiss to Her knuckles. There was Her ring. Both of her rings. Physical fucking proof to anyone who looked that She loved Ben. Wanted him. Fucking adored him. 

If She needed Ben for shopping, he’d walk with Her and do whatever she told him to. She’d know what she was doing. She always knew what She was doing, because she was a goddamn force of nature, and if Ben had a say in it, he’d make sure everyone did what she told them all the fucking time.

They didn’t—because most people were stupid fucking dumbcucks that Ben wasn’t allowed to just fucking kill—but they should. All of this post-Homelander shit would be so much easier if everyone would just fucking listen to Her. 

And Ben knew how hard She was working on it. How She was calm and collected when she testified before congress and recounted all the shit that fucking pussy had done to Her, but always fell apart after, sobbing and shaking in Ben’s arms. She’d crawl over his body and bury Her face in his chest, he’d feel fucking sick, and wish he could bring Homelander back to life just to fucking kill him again. Everyone demanded too goddamn much of Her, and she always gave it because she was too fucking good, and if all She asked for was Ben to go shopping with Her, he’d do it a billion fucking times.

Anything to make Her tap her fingers because she was picking out wall colors and not because she had to explain how She’d killed Sage. Anything to make Her flush because Ben was kissing her neck in the lamp aisle and not because a bunch of old fucking pussies wanted unnecessary details about Her alleged relationship with Soldier Boy.

It wasn’t fucking alleged. They were goddamn married. They had a son and owned a house together.

A house they needed to put things in. And decorate. And make theirs. So if that was what this trip was about, Ben could fucking do it. For Her.

It started simple. They needed more furniture, they found it. 

“We already have most of what we need,” She muttered, pulling Ben through the store. “It’s mostly decorations now. If you see something you like-“

“I’ll like whatever the fuck you like.”

She let out a long sigh. “That not helpful-“

Ben grunted Her name, spinning Her around in his arms and dropping his brow to Her’s. 

“Ben-“

“Listen to me.” He held Her gaze, drawing firm circles in her hips. “I could give a fuck what our house looks like, as long as you like it, and there’s no goddamn blue.”

“But it’s your house too-“

“I don’t fucking care.” He grunted. “I’ve told you, Sunshine, we could be living in a fucking dumpster, and I’d be good.”

She scanned over Ben’s face, and sighed. “Can you promise you’ll at least try to find one thing you want?”

“Deal.” Ben kissed Her, dipping her slightly in his arms and keeping Her tucked to his side when they pulled apart.

For Her, he’d try to find one thing. It couldn’t be that fucking hard. This place was huge. 

At first, there was nothing. She had opinions on the colors and style of their house, and Ben mostly just watched Her be perfect and smart and happy, grumbling low agreements and kissing Her until she smiled whenever he got the chance. That was what he cared about. Not whatever the fuck rustic or sleek meant. Not about what shade of green their bedroom should be, or if they should have the bird or sunset painting, or if a glass vase was better than a ceramic one. 

“Just lie and pretend you have an answer-“

“No. I don’t fucking lie to you-“

“It’s a vase, Ben. I’m not going to freak out and burn the building down because you lie about liking a vase-“

“I don’t give a fuck about the vase.” He snapped. “My job is to buy you the damn flowers-“

“Well,” She raised Her brows, giving him a pointed look. “Where can I put the flowers, if I don’t have a vase?”

Ben scowled. “Smartass.”

“You love it.” She gave him a sweet smile, and he really fucking did. “Choose a vase, Pretty Boy.”

Ben rolled his eyes, glaring between the options, and decided they were both fucking stupid. “No.”

“Benjamin-“

“Get that one.” He pointed to a third, smaller one. It was the same color as Her eyes, and had little golden patterns. He didn’t hate it. “It’ll fit on the dresser.”

She paused, tapping Her fingers on Ben’s arm, and nodded slowly. “Okay.” She gave him a wider, purely fucking adoring smile, and Ben felt his whole body grow radiant. “Thank you.”

“Don’t.” He grumbled, kissing the side of Her head, and a dam broke inside of him. 

Suddenly, Ben had a lot of fucking opinions. A red carpet would look fucking stupid in the living room, and Ben didn’t want a weird, twisting lamp on his bed stand. They’d get the shower curtain with little octopuses—octopi, Benjamin—because they made Her smile, but Ben would give MM a fucking blowjob before he used as towel with ducks on it.

“But they’re cute-“

“No.” Ben snapped, grabbing a stack on plain, monotone towels, and dumping them into the cart. “They’re fucking towels, Sunshine, they only need to dry us off.”

“I know, but look at them!” She held the ducks up, giving Ben a pretty pout that was designed to fucking kill him. “Please? Just one?”

Ben scowled. She knew what the fuck She was doing. Looking so fucking beautiful and leaning into his body and making Her sharp eyes soft just for him. He couldn’t say no to Her. He’d never really want to, anyway. Not when he grabbed the towel, tossed it in the cart, and Her smile had the same effect as fucking heroine.

“One.” He grunted. “Because I fucking love you, brat, you get one.”

She kept smiling at him, holding his face between Her hands and kissing him right on the nose. “Thank you, my love-“

Ben rolled his eyes, and dragged Her into a longer, firmer kiss. Until She was a sighing and humming and melting into him, before grabbing Her hand and tugging her to the next isle.

They got shampoo—Ben tried to pick his own out, She looked like she was going stab him or set him on fire, and he decided to let Her handle that shit—a bunch of picture frames, and a lot of useless decorative shit that they didn’t need. Small potted plants that would have to be kept out of the bedroom, a fuck ton of books that She’d probably already read, and some nice, dark green plates. 

Ben took over for groceries—that might be the only place in the world where She didn’t know what the fuck she was doing—and he kept it simple. Pancakes. Ice cream. Bagels. Strawberry cream cheese. Coffee. Chocolate. Something called Lunchables that Ryan seemed to like. Apple sauce, because on worse days that was all Ben could get Her to eat, and he’d be damned if he let Homelander keep haunting them like that. Whiskey. Burger patties-

“You know there’s only three of us, right?” She was hanging off of Ben’s arm, giving him an amused look as he tossed a second bag of apples into their slightly overflowing cart. “And we can come back if we host dinner with the team.”

Ben frowned. “You told me Butcher was hosting-“

“He is. I’m saying that’s why we don’t need so many-“

“We need to be fucking prepared.” Ben muttered. “Shit happens, Sunshine, and I’ll be fucking damned if I let us go hungry-“

Ben.

He grunted Her name, glancing down to see open, obvious amusements painted over Her pretty features. 

Are you fucking Cold War prepping.

Shut up.

She snorted. Holy shit, you are-

I said shut the fuck up. We need to be goddamn careful, and it’s my job to make sure you and Ryan are safe-

That’s not your job, Ben. She sighed, giving him a soft smile that lit up his whole fucking body. But, if it was, you already do an amazing job, without being an old, paranoid dinosaur. And remember, She squeezed his hand, raising Her brows slightly. Ryan’s literally invulnerable, and I fuck an atomic bomb every day. We’d be fine.

Ben scowled, but put the third bag of apples back. We fuck at least three times a day.

I know. I’m there.

You fucking start most of it-

You’re just proving my point, Pretty Boy.

Shut up.

From there, She made him go look at fucking pants and shirts. Only so She could send Neuman orders for their specialized, supe-proof clothing, but still needing Ben’s actual fucking opinions. He didn’t fucking care about clothing, and he trusted Her with his fucking life, so she ended up making most of the choices as Ben grunted in approval. 

They were almost done. And this had been fun—he’d never tell Her that, but he was also pretty damn sure she knew—but Ben wanted to go the hell home. To drop all this shit in the doorway, carry Her upstairs, and fuck Her until she screamed his name so loud all the glasses in the house fucking broke. 

All that was left was getting something called a Roomba.

“What fuck is that thing.” Ben muttered, frowning at the metal disc in Her hands. It just looked like fucking junk.

“It’s a robot.”

“A fucking what.”

“Robot. Robot vacuum. It’ll clean the floor-“

“That circle is going to clean the floor-“

“Yep.” She glanced at the label on the shelf. “Do you think we need max power? I don’t really know what average power would do- Ben-“

He’d grabbed the robot—fucking robot—from Her, and was examining it. He didn’t know what the hell he was looking for, only that he wasn’t finding it.

“Ben-“

“This thing is not a fucking robot.” He muttered. “Robots aren’t real.”

“They very much are real, old man.”

“There’s not a chance in fucking hell this thing can clean a floor-“

“Well, it does.” She took the circle back, placing it into the cart and giving Ben a teasing look of disbelief. “Are Roomba’s really going to be the thing that gets you about the 21st century?”

He scowled. “They’re not fucking real, Sunshine-“

“Benjamin, my love.” She moved to stand right before him, holding his gaze to Her’s with amusement dancing all over Her perfect face. She was so fucking beautiful. “You can throw nuclear energy with your brain, pick up trucks with one hand, and I’ve seen you jump off a building without flinching. We’re fuck-buddy-brain-connected. When I orgasm, I make both of us hallucinate. This,” She pointed to the so-called robot. “Cannot be the thing that gets you.”

Shut up, brat. Ben rolled his eyes, kissing the back of Her hand before glaring around the rest of isle. Are all of these things fucking robots.

No, these are just normal vacuums.

Does this place have other robots.

Yeah, probably.

Ben’s eyes narrowed. Where.

———————

You’ve made a grave error.

You don’t think you’re ever going to leave this Costco. 

After the Roomba, you’d shown Ben robotic litter boxes, and drones, and a smart speaker. You’re pretty sure that’s where you’d went wrong. 

“This thing can hear me?”

You’d nodded, watching him with a small smile you were having a hard time fighting. To any passerby, Ben would’ve looked furious, but you know him. Know that right now, his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes meant that he was shocked and confused. 

It helped that you could feel it, pricking on his skin and cloudy around his head. It was kind of adorable. 

“It can hear all of us.”

He’d scowled. “Why the fuck is it listening-“

“So you can tell it what to do. Here, look- Alexa? Play Steely Dan.”

“Playing- Steely Dan.”

Low music started to fill the space, and you’d had to bite your cheek to stop the snort at Ben’s expression. He’d looked like he’d been shot. It had been adorable. 

And now, two fucking hours later, you didn’t think you’d ever get sick of that expression on his face. He was like a five-year-old loose in a candy shop, walking from aisle to aisle and asking you grumbling questions about various technologies and appliances. If you’re being honest, the only time you’ve seen him look close to this was whenever he’d fuck you. It was a similar expression of pure, raw joy and wonder, but devoid of all the darkened, animalistic need. 

“What the fuck are these?”

“Security cameras.” 

Ben frowns. “They look like fucking doorbells.”

“They’re both.” You say, resting your head against his chest, and he nods slowly.

“We should get one.”

“Ben-“

“For fucking safety, Sunshine, it would be damn insane not to have cameras when all those fucking pussy Homelander supporters are still out there-“

“I agree, my love.” You smile at him, forcing yourself not the climb into his arms as his concrete concern and resolve wrap around you. “That’s why I asked Hughie to install some already.”

Ben pauses, something hot and sore flaring on his skin. “Why the fuck did you ask Hughie.”

“He’s a tech nerd, and Annie said he’d know the best ones to get.” You kissing the underside of Ben’s jaw, humming against his skin. Next time, I’ll ask you, Benjamin. It’ll be so fucking funny to watch you try to install them.

Ben scowls, adoration flaring in his chest as the soreness eases, and you manage to walk him away from the doorbells. 

Most of the afternoon has mostly become walking Ben away from things. For some stuff, it’s easy. Noise canceling headphones wouldn’t work on him. You don’t need a slightly larger TV, because your current one is perfectly fine. You don’t have the space for a hot tub.

“What about these.” He points to the third golf set, and you sigh.

“Ben, you hate golf. You’ve told me it’s a weak fucking pussy sport.”

“And it fucking is, but these things can be damn good weapons-“

“We are not buying weapons.”

“What if someone fucking breaks into the house with a gun-“

“You and Ryan are bullet proof, and I can’t be killed-“

“What if it’s a fucking supe-“

“Then you can blast them with your special sauce, and they won’t be a supe.” You wrap your arms around him, raising your brows. “We’ll be fine, Ben. No golf clubs.”

He scowls, and moves on. 

From the golf clubs. And the iPad, and other security cameras, and air hockey table.

But other things are harder. 

Because you make a second mistake. You agree with him that you should buy a generator, because it’s practical. But what Ben learns is that you can say yes to things. And now you have an ice cream maker, an air fryer, a truly unreasonable amount of batteries, and lawn sprinklers.

And a vibrator, because Ben had grabbed it, shoved it into the cart, and raised his brows in a silent challenge.

You’d sighed. Ben, I don’t need-

I’m going to have to travel, Sunshine-

I know, but I think I can keep it together until you get back to fuck me yourself.

Or. Ben had winked at you, and you felt his hunger spread in your gut. We could do that Zoom shit, you could imagine that thing is me. He’d lowered down, starting to leave wet, sloppy kisses up your neck. And I could tell you exactly how I’d want to fuck you. How I’d play with that perfect fucking pussy until you were begging for me, then I’d stuff that smart fucking mouth with my cock and start to finger fuck you, make your squirt on my hand while you choke on my dick-

You’d buried your face in his chest, muffling your whimper in his shirt. Jesus fucking Christ, Ben-

You like that, darling? Like thinking about how I fill you up, how fucking good I pound into that pussy, how I make you cum on my cock and hands and face-

You’d agreed to buy the vibrator, but mostly because if he had kept talking, you might have climaxed just from Ben’s voice.

You should’ve left Costco an hour ago.

But Ben still doesn’t seem to be done yet.

“How the fuck are they doing that.” He mutters, poking remote and watching the LEDs shift from green to pink to yellow for the fifth time. 

“Semiconductors.” You say, trying not to look like such a dopey, lovesick idiot as you smile at him. “We do have to go home soon. Ryan’s almost done with school.” 

Ben grunts, grabbing one of the LED light strings and holding it up for you to see. 

You take it from him, kiss his cheek—your lips barely brushing his beard before he’s moving you to his mouth, and you almost fall over—and place the box in the cart.

The total amount of money you’ve spent today is disgusting, but the grin on Ben’s face makes it worth it. All of this is so fucking worth it, because you’re happy in such an average, normal way. You’re happy because Ben’s happy—glowing and furious in your whole body—and he’s everything. He grabs you a chocolate bar in the checkout isle without you asking, and insists unloading everything into the trunk himself.

“Go wait in the car, Sunshine-“

You shake your head, trying—and failing—not to gawk at him. So goddamn handsome the broad daylight, muscles flexing as the moves bag after bag, all yours to climb like a tree when you get home-

You won’t have to get until your get home.

Ben chuckles as you stare at him, and the moment the last bag is in the car he grabs you by your wrist, tugging your back into his chest and slamming his lips down to yours. It a rough, heavy kiss that probably isn’t appropriate for a parking lot, but you can’t really bring yourself to care. Ben’s love is strong and focused and everything in the world that matters. He’s swaying you back and forth in his arms, grinning as he nips at your lower lip and tugs a little at your hair, and you don’t think you’re ever going to get enough of him. Of how forceful and bloody and devout his love is, just in broad daylight when you’ve done nothing but smile at him. 

When he pulls away, neither of you bother to fully separate. Ben grins at you, and you smile at him, and when he brushes a little hair away from your face you do the only thing you can think of, and kiss him again. Softer this time, moving your hands to hold his face, allowing yourself to feel so purely safe and warm in the best place in the world. In Ben.

Because you know this will never fade. The love for him in your body that only grows more and more powerful with every passing moment. That you’ll always feel Ben’s love for you, no matter if you’re resting in heaven—caged between Ben’s body and a bed, sleeping or fucking or just smiling at him—breaking down in a hell you’ve visited countless times in life and will visit more in sleep, or standing somewhere domestic and mundane. 

You have a life now where you get to be domestic and mundane. Where you get to make out with your husband in a public place, until someone rolls down their window and wolf-whistles, and you have to restrain Ben from picking up their car and throwing it across the lot. Where you get to drive home with Ben’s hand on your thigh and your head resting on his shoulder, and you get to act like that’s all your life has ever been.

It’s all it will have to be now. 

For the rest of your life—which will likely be simply the rest of time—all you’ll have to do is be domestic. You don’t think you can be mundane, not when Ben grumbles something and you can feel his love spark and flare in his chest, or when you park the car and Ben carries all fifteen of your heavy bags inside at once without even a grunt. You can’t be mundane when, the moment he puts the bags down, you jump on him, he fucks you against the kitchen counter, and you burst into a flame that sets off the smoke alarm and drenches you both in the sprinklers. 

But you can be domestic. You can dry off and cook dinner with Ben—like a normal husband and wife probably do—and let him wrap his body around you and kiss that spot on your neck until you give up on focusing and ride him on the floor. 

You can eat with Ben and Ryan, try not to laugh as Ben works out how the ice cream maker works, and curl in Ben’s arms on your couch. Watching TV and sitting easily in the dark.

Ben can tilt your head back for a deep, slow kiss, smirking against your lips when you moan, and mutter your name like a prayer.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he says, rubbing firm circles on your thigh, and you let out a long, slow breath as you flush.

“I think you abuse that word, Benjamin,” you mumble, and he shrugs.

“I don’t give a fuck. You are.” He frowns, turning you to face him in his lap. “I fucking love you, Sunshine, you’re my whole fucking world-“

I know. You smile, leaning down for another, softer kiss that makes Ben groan in your mouth and the whole world start to get a little hazy. I love you, too.

He grunts, but doesn’t bother to do his usual pushing about how you still don’t get how much he loves to you. You do get it. You can feel it, and it’s the most powerful thing in the world. Sometimes you worry Ben doesn’t understand how much you love him. How you can’t even begin to picture a world where you’d never clawed your way through blood and grime to find him. How you can feel his love and resolve and care all the time, and your own love is so eternal and vast you could probably power a universe with it. 

But you’ll have all of time to fight with him about who loves who more. 

Right now, everything can just be Ben and you on a couch, eating ice cream, and knowing that this—You and him, burning together—is forever.

End Note: Had to make the smart speaker an Alexa. We are in an Amazon based universe. I don’t think they sell Alexas at Costco, but we’ve established that Costco sells whatever I want it to sell. So, Alexas.

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[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 7: Precautions

You and Joel deal with a growing threat as you prepare to take on a new role. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 6 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Mild violence. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 7.7k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Previous Chapter

Three Weeks Later 

“You remember your talking points, right?” Quinn asked, watching Ellie closely. “And all the rules?” 

“No,” Ellie said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve completely forgotten the four things you’ve told me because I’m fucking dumb.” 

“Hey,” you said, giving her a look. “C’mon, kid.” 

“I know, I know,” she sighed. “Language. Yes, I know I can’t swear. I have to talk about how great Sissy is…” 

“You don’t have to,” you said, giving Quinn a look. “You should be honest.” 

“Then I’ll tell them all about how you make me do the stupidest homework and don’t let me stay up late and also don’t let me beat up people at school even when they deserve it,” Ellie said, smug. 

“No,” Quinn said quickly. “You can’t…” 

You cut her off before she got too far. 

“It’ll be fine,” you said. “Ellie, say whatever you think is best. However this interview goes, it’ll all blow over in a few weeks, anyway.” 

“Just try not to swear quite so much, kiddo,” Joel said, his arms crossed as he hovered between you and the front door, waiting for the reporters to arrive. “You and I both know you know better than that.” 

“But I like to fucking swear,” she smirked and Joel, you could tell, was trying not to smirk back. “But if Big Miller says so…” 

“Jesus,” Joel rolled his eyes. 

The doorbell rang and Quinn ground her teeth but went with Joel to answer the door all the same. 

This interview had been a last ditch effort on Quinn’s part. The media had latched on to the concept of Ellie’s existence and hadn’t eased up since the news broke. Photographers still showed up outside her school half the week, paparazzi camped outside the gym where you’d been training for Savage Starlight and would yell questions with Ellie’s name in them at you, there were several viral posts theorizing that you and Anna had secretly been lesbians and Ellie was your daughter together. 

It didn’t take long for you to reach your breaking point. Quinn had the idea to offer up an interview to the biggest publications, one in your home where you posed for pictures and answered questions about Ellie, the adoption, Anna, the works. In exchange, they agreed to stop buying photos of you and Ellie as you went about your private lives in Austin. 

You hoped it worked. You didn’t want to have to uproot Ellie yet again. The whole reason you’d come to Austin to begin with was that Elise had retired here and you didn’t want to keep Ellie from the only blood relation she had left or ask Elise to move to whatever new place you decided to settle, especially if you’d just have to do this same song and dance again in six months to a year when the press found out where you were again. 

You were, at least, out of your brace now. It had been a close call on the interview date, Frank planning a few outfits for you - some designed to downplay the brace, others without worrying about it - just to be safe. But the fracture had healed well and quickly, not requiring a full cast or any extended time in the brace. You’d gotten permission to take it off at your follow up appointment a few days earlier and had been relishing your new-found freedom ever since. Your training for Savage Starlight was slated to pick up more now that you were healed but you were enjoying the small reprieve where you weren’t dealing with the brace and weren’t sore and exhausted every night. 

Once things calmed down with the paparazzi, though, you could handle it. You hoped, anyway. In part because, outside of all that, things had been going smoothly - even with your surly bodyguard. 

It was still a total mystery to you what he’d meant by keeping things “professional,” but things had definitely been that. Cool and distant, no more sitting next to each other by the pool late at night or sharing a drink now and then - things which seemed perfectly professional in your opinion but apparently weren’t for him. But, while he wasn’t wearing the watch you’d given him, he never snapped at you like he did the day you’d presented it to him, either. 

You took what you could get with him. It was a little disorienting, having someone treat you with such indifference - especially when he’d shown some basic, human care in the past. Not that you expected him to treat you the way everyone else did. You weren’t stupid, you knew that almost every person you interacted with every day treated you the way they did because you were famous and because you had a carefully crafted public persona that was only loosely tied to who you really were. They were either fans of someone who didn’t really exist but had your body and face and name or they wanted some proximity to your fame and all that came with it. Of course someone like Joel - who had to be around you all the time, whose job required him to move quickly regardless of your feelings - would treat you differently. But it still stung all the same. Anything short of the harshness he’d treated you with that day in your driveway felt like mercy and you were almost ashamed at how desperately you clung to that. 

“Hey,” you said to Ellie, reaching out and taking her hand, giving it a small squeeze. Her eyes met yours. “I’m sorry about this. And you should know that you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can shut it down right now if you want.” 

She smiled a little tightly at you, giving your hand a small squeeze back. 

“I know,” she said. “But… this will make it all easier, right? They’ll leave us both alone and you won’t be as stressed?” 

“No,” you shook your head. “I don’t want you to do this because you’re worried about my stress level or…” 

“I know,” she cut you off, smirking a little. “But I’m also doing it for me. Fuck switching schools again, man.” 

 You laughed a little and rested your head against hers, taking a deep breath as you heard the distinctive sound of Quinn’s reporter wrangling voice from your entry way. 

“Well, now you’ll get an idea of what I do every day,” you said, lacing your fingers with hers. “See just how boring it is so you can tell all your friends at school that they don’t actually want to be movie stars when they grow up.” 

Ellie snorted. 

“Please,” she said. “I know you’re really off doing cool shit while wearing fancy clothes all the time. Definitely one big party, no work at all.” 

You laughed before getting up to go greet the reporter, slipping into the version of yourself that you shared with the press as you did.

The interview went surprisingly well. Quinn had handpicked the reporter so that wasn’t a surprise, a well known freelancer who didn’t ask anything too invasive. Ellie held her own, curbing her swearing (mostly, a few, more minor, curse words snuck in) and being her witty and charming self. The photographer posed the two of you together on your couch, by the pool with your guitars, by the kitchen island pretending to cook - even though you basically never did that yourself, anyway. 

Joel hovered the entire time. You could feel his eyes on you, the intensity of his gaze sharp. He stayed at the back of the reporter and photographer the whole time they were in your house. His arms stayed crossed over his chest, his jaw set firm, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. 

“Hey,” you said quietly, your hand going to rest gently on Joel’s back, when the photographer was focused on Ellie and the reporter was reviewing his notes. “You OK?” 

“Fine,” he grunted, glancing over at you. “Just tryin’ to do my job.” 

“It’s just a reporter,” you said, raising your brows and trying not to smile. “I don’t think they’re going to bite.” 

He just made a disgruntled sound and kept his eye on the visitors, his whole body still tense. 

He didn’t ease up until the reporter and photographer were gone and outside the gates of your property. 

“That was kinda fun!” Ellie said. “A lot of bullshit but not that awful.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Good,” you said. “I’m glad it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.” 

“Told you you don’t actually work,” she teased. You snorted and she turned her attention to Joel. “Hey Big Miller, wanna kill some zombies? I was playing a level the other night and getting my ass kicked, I could use another gun.” 

You glanced toward Joel, still worried that, at some point, he would decide he wanted to keep a professional distance from Ellie, too. She’d grown attached to your bodyguard over the last few months, not that she would ever admit it. She sought him out often to play video games or watch a movie. You could usually hear when she got home from school when he picked her up because she was still laughing at something he said when she walked in the door. 

It still surprised you, how the two of them had connected. You hadn’t expected a - presumably - single, childless man to have bonded with your brash teenaged niece so thoroughly. Had it been anyone else, it would have sent alarm bells ringing. You had plenty of reason to not trust the motivations of men, especially around teenaged girls, but there was something distinctly safe about Joel and his connection with Ellie. And she needed as many people to care for her as she could get. You didn’t want her to lose that because of some misplaced notion of propriety. 

“Been a minute since we went and messed up some undead,” he said, noticeably less tense now that the only people in the house were you, him, Ellie and Quinn. “Guess we should go show ‘em who’s boss.” 

“Fuck yeah!” Ellie said, punching the air. You didn’t scold her for her language choice, instead just smiling a little at the two of them as he settled into the couch and picked up the controller - the device looking oddly small in his large hands - before going to find Quinn in your office. 

“Ellie’s got some natural skill,” Quinn said, glancing up from the Emmy that functioned as a paperweight on your desk. “She’s smart, charismatic. Got a hell of a mouth on her.” 

“Tell me about it,” you snorted. “Aren’t you glad you usually only have to rein me in?” 

“Wrangling the two of you all the time would be a bit much,” she said. “I get the feeling you just feed off each other…” 

“Yeah,” you laughed. “It used to be worse, back when I wasn’t actually responsible for her and we could just goof off and hang out. Drove her mom insane. I’m half surprised she wanted me to take her when…” 

You trailed off, a knot tugging at the back of your throat. 

“We won’t get any kind of prior article review,” Quinn said, sensing that you were ready to change the subject. “But I’m sure it’ll be positive. You gave them great shit to work with.” 

“Thanks,” you smiled, tightly. 

“So,” she said. “Ready for the fight choreo?” 

“Think so,” you nodded. “It’ll be weird, I think, but good. I hope good, anyway.” 

She hummed in agreement, nodding a little. 

“What?” You asked. “I feel like there’s something you’re not saying.” 

“Well, we have some timing updates and some new asks,” she said. 

“OK…” 

“They want you in LA a bit earlier than originally planned,” she said. “They’ve got the costume ready and they want to get you properly in it for a final screen test and fitting as well as for a few shots they can polish into a teaser trailer of sorts for the announcement at the con.” 

“Seriously?” You groaned. “When?” 

“Friday.” 

“Friday?” You gaped. “Thursday is Thanksgiving!” 

“I know,” she said. “But they’re pretty set on this and it’s already a hell of a truncated timeline given your injury.” 

“Jesus,” you pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “Fine.” 

“They also want you to attend the premiere of Scarlet Sentinel after the announcement,” she continued.

“When the hell is that?” You asked. 

“The 11th,” she said. “Just a few more days, it’s not too bad.” 

“A few more days during the first Christmas after Ellie’s mom died,” you snapped.

“I know,” she said. 

“And they know what happened at the last fucking premiere, right?” You asked. “Because…” 

“They know,” she said. “But you and I both know with the timing of the convention and the announcement, your name is going to come up a lot on that red carpet. They figure, better to have you there to talk about it yourself than leave it to someone else.” 

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I’m coming back on the 12th. This damn movie had better be worth it.” 

“Just think of all the little girls who will have a badass superhero to look up to because of you,” she smiled a little. “And remember that you’re the one who wanted me to chase this role for you.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I know. I’m guessing I’ll have my grumpy shadow for this whole adventure?” 

“After what happened at the last premiere?” Quinn scoffed. “Absolutely.” 

You sighed, frustrated both at the situation and yourself. Part of you was glad that Joel was coming, his presence making you feel more protected than anyone else’s - including the guards who filled in when he was off. But you knew this trip was going to make both of you miserable. 

Another few weeks in Los Angeles with Joel. Perfect. Just perfect. 

***

Joel ground his teeth, his head on a swivel. 

Was there ever going to come a time that he wasn’t tense and frustrated when it came to you? 

He doubted it. 

There was something inherently frustrating about you. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was but it was absolutely there. 

Maybe it was that you were insufferably, disturbingly stubborn. Maybe it was that the whole fucking world seemed drawn to you. Maybe it was your ceaselessly annoying habit of underestimating any potential threat when it came to yourself. 

Maybe it was the fact that, in spite of his request for professionalism and his newfound practice of trying to shove some distance between the two of you, he was just as drawn to you now as ever. Even though you were a bad idea, even though you terrified him, he had to fight to keep himself away from you. 

He had to force himself to stay in his room when sitting at your house instead of seeking you out. He had to stop himself from thinking about you in ways he fucking knew he shouldn’t, stop himself from searching your name on Google when he was aching and desperate and couldn’t think of anything else. On the rare occasions he wasn’t near you - when he was taking Ellie to school or on his mandatory days off in between stints of protecting you - he’d see something that would remind him of you and have the strange urge to text you about it. As though he’d ever texted you about anything besides business, as though you were friends. As though he was anything at all to you. 

Now, he was stuck sitting outside where you were doing some kind of fucking training for that damn movie. Fuck if he knew what it was, all he knew was that he’d tried to talk you and the trainer - some musclebound jackass named Alan who looked like he knew more about making punching look good than making it effective - into moving the training to your house. Alan had vetoed that. 

“No,” he’d said, shaking his head as he took a look around the space that Joel had worked with you in for weeks. “No, this is way too small for what we need.” 

“The hell you mean it’s too small,” Joel snapped. “What are you doin’, throwing a goddamn party?” 

The guy looked at Joel for a moment. 

“You realize that this is a favor, right?” He said. “That I’m the most in demand fight choreographer in the goddamn business and I’m taking time away from other work to come here so I can train her because it’s supposedly safer here than LA? I’m not about to slim shit down any further than I already have, I’ve booked us time at a private gym in the city, she’ll be perfectly safe there since you’re apparently incapable of doing your damn job in California.” 

Joel fought the urge to swing on the fucker. 

“She gets hurt because you need a goddamn ballroom to teach her how to throw a more cinematic punch…” 

“That’ll be on you, won’t it?” He said. 

Joel couldn’t argue with him. He was right, the weight of that settling in the pit of his stomach. Your safety was on his head. 

That was a double edged sword. He didn’t trust anyone else to keep you safe. He wasn’t comfortable with something like your life sitting squarely on his shoulders. It wasn’t something that had ever bothered him with other clients but you were different. In so many things you were different. 

He’d been standing in this stupid fucking waiting room of this stupid fucking private gym for what felt like a small eternity. Nothing had happened, of course. Nothing had happened the two days before, either. That didn’t seem to make a damn difference, though. He was still tense, still watching for any threat, still frustrated that you were in an uncontrolled space and out of his sight. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket and Joel did a quick scan of the area - including the parking lot that he could see through the large windows - before checking it. It only ever vibrated for family, work or clients, it had to be something important. 

He was right. It was a text from Tommy. 

Been a change on the Siren case. Come to HQ with principal ASAP. 

“Shit,” Joel said quietly, going to text him back when he heard your voice - sharp and panicked and muffled by the door. 

His body reacted before his mind caught up. He reached the door before he fully realized what he was doing, damn near ripping the thing off its hinges and racing into the room where you were training. 

You were flat on your back in the middle of the room, mats on the floor to cushion any falls, and Alan was on top of you. He was straddling you, his knees astride your hips, his hands on your throat, holding you down. Your hands were on his chest, face twisted into a snarl as you shoved at him but the man was bigger than you, stronger than you and Joel had to stop him. 

He ran for you with a roar, tucking his shoulder and slamming into the other man, the mats on the ground cushioning their fall as they tumbled. 

“What the fuck!” Alan yelled as they came to a stop, Joel shoving the other man into the ground and pinning him. 

“Joel!” You yelled but he was focused on the man below him. 

“I don’t know what -“ Alan began but Joel cut him off with a punch, sharp against the man’s cheek, sending his head whipping around. 

“Joel!” You caught his elbow as he went to punch again and he let you pull him back, Alan groaning on the floor. You tugged Joel to his feet and he panted for breath, looking down at the man who’d been hurting you, the man who he wanted to hurt more. But, for now, he wasn’t going anywhere and Joel turned his attention to you. 

Your eyes were wide, your skin slick with sweat and your hand had gone from the crook of his arm to his side when he turned and the weight of your palm was heavy on him. But you were alive. He could breathe. 

“Joel…” you panted, almost like a question. His hand went to your cheek, your skin warm. He tilted your head gently, looking over your neck, trying to see any damage. 

“He hurt you?” He asked, voice rough. “You OK?” 

“What?” You asked, gaping at him. 

“Did he hurt you,” he said again. 

“No!” You shook yourself free of Joel’s hold on you. “No, he didn’t hurt me! It was fucking fight choreography!” 

You ducked around Joel and rushed toward Alan, kneeling beside him as he sat up, holding his face and adjusting his jaw. 

“Fuck,” Joel said quietly, wincing as he watched you gingerly examine the other man, the two of you talking low, your back to Joel the whole time. 

He should be more embarrassed about this and part of him was but he couldn’t help but just be relieved. You were safe. He didn’t need to see you hurting, didn’t need to live in that shock of fear that had all but swallowed him when he saw you on the ground, your life in the hands of another man. You were alive, you were safe. That was all that mattered, he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about anything else. 

After a minute, Alan looked ready to get up and Joel approached him cautiously, your trainer’s eyes narrowing at him. 

“Sorry,” Joel said awkwardly, offering him his hand. “Didn’t know… Never had a job with an actress before…” 

“S’alright,” he said before taking Joel’s hand. He pulled him to his feet and he cracked his neck. “I’ve taken worse hits but damn, man, you hit like a fucking hammer.” 

Joel caught a glimpse of you rolling your eyes off to the side and he smirked a little. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “Might be your job to make it look good, it’s my job to knock someone on their ass and keep ‘em there.” 

“You’re damn good at it,” he said before turning to you. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to say we call it early.” 

“Of course,” you said quickly. “Again, I’m so sorry, I…” 

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, laughing a little. “Does me good to take a hit now and then in my line of work. You should be more than prepped for the shots they want to get later this week but I’ll be in LA if you run into any issues. Now I’m going to head back to my hotel to ice my face and try to think of the best way to explain this to my wife when she picks me up from the airport.” 

“We need to go, anyway,” Joel said and you frowned. “Got a text from Tommy, told to bring you to HQ as soon as possible so that’s where we’re headed.” 

“Fine,” you sighed, exasperated. “Let’s just run home first so I can change…” 

“No,” he cut you off. “We’re going straight there.” 

“But I’m disgusting!” You said, arms out at your sides as if to prove your point. “I’m not about to go to a meeting when I’m dripping sweat, that’s just…” 

“Don’t matter,” Joel said. 

“Is everything OK?” Alan asked, looking between the two of you. 

You answered before Joel got a chance to respond. 

“It’s fine,” you said, shooting Joel a look that almost dared him to talk. “He just loves to make my life difficult, it’s his favorite hobby, so he’s using this as an excuse.” 

Joel quirked his jaw but bit his tongue. 

“Come on, Siren,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

He watched as you stalked off to get your bag and water bottle, snatching them up with an almost comically angry look on your face as you did. He made you stay behind him while he surveyed the small parking lot before keeping you safely hidden from view from as much of the broader world as he could until he got you to the car. 

You reminded him of Ellie as he started the drive to the office, your arms crossed tight over your chest, staring straight ahead with your eyes narrowed. It would be intimidating if you were more… well, intimidating. On you it was almost comical, like watching a lion cub try and snarl at a threat. 

“That was mortifying,” you said eventually, your fingers digging into your upper arms so hard that Joel could see the indentations in your flesh. “Completely fucking embarrassing, I can’t believe…” 

“Can’t believe I did my job?” Joel asked. “Can’t believe I tried to keep you safe? Shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to you at this point, Siren, been doin’ this for a few months now.” 

“Oh fuck off,” you snapped. “That was not you doing your fucking job, that was you losing your temper for who knows what reason and…” 

“That was me intervening when you were in danger,” Joel snapped back. “How the hell was I supposed to know that guy was supposed to be fuckin’ choking you out? And you, what? Expect me to just sit there and let it happen? Jesus.” 

“This is why I don’t need a fucking bodyguard,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Let alone one who doesn’t know the fucking industry. I fake die sometimes, too, Joel, you going to call 911? Plan my funeral?” 

Joel ignored you, clenching his jaw as he called Tommy. 

“Yeah,” Tommy said by way of greeting. 

“One minute out,” Joel said. 

“You’re gettin’ an escort in,” Tommy said. 

Joel frowned. 

“That serious?” 

“We’ll discuss it when you get here,” Tommy said. “Just… being cautious.” 

A team of four men met the car when Joel pulled up to the building where Tommy’s business was based. He passed the keys to one and fell into formation around you, immediately at your right as the four men surrounded you, blocking you from any view from passing or the random pedestrian. 

“This is such overkill,” you muttered. 

“Better over kill than you killed,” Joel glared at you as you rolled your eyes. 

But Joel did feel like he could relax a little now that the two of you were in the office. This was a controlled space, you weren’t at risk here. You might be pissed at him but he’d take that. If you were safe, alive? Pissed he could handle. 

Tommy seemed prepared for it, at least, not shaken by your sour attitude. 

“Joel,” Tommy nodded to him before looking to you. “Ma’am.” 

“You’ll have to excuse the fact that I smell like a gym sock,” you said, clearly pissed but trying to control yourself. “Someone didn’t let me shower or change before coming here.” 

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Tommy said. “I got Quinn on the line, I’m gonna loop her into this conversation, too…” 

He switched on the speaker phone. 

“We’re all here now,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “We OK to get started?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Lay things out.” 

You frowned and glanced at Joel, as if he’d have any better idea about what this was going to be about than you did. He just frowned, too. 

“This was sent to your address here in Austin,” Tommy said, dropping a printed image of a letter on the other side of his desk, closer to you and Joel. You stepped forward and picked it up, Joel looking over your shoulder at it. “Police have the original.” 

It was a note, like the ones before. 

I love your home. I can’t wait to share it with you. But why do you have other men spending the night? They won’t love you like I love you. Don’t you know that? Don’t you see? 

If I can’t have you, no one will. 

Joel’s hand trembled as he took the copy from you, tracing the words over and over. 

If I can’t have you, no one will. 

For a moment - just a moment - Joel had that vision of you again. The one that had come to his dreams more often than he cared to admit, the one where he couldn’t save you. 

There was someone out there who wanted you, wanted you so badly they were willing to kill to have you and what if he couldn’t stop them? What if they got to you when he was off for a few days, what if something happened when you were just out of reach? What if all he could do was stand there and watch you die? 

“Well someone’s getting ballsy, isn’t he?” You said wryly. 

“You don’t sound like you’re taking this seriously,” Quinn said, the sharpness in her tone apparent even through the crackle of the speaker phone. 

“Probably because I’m not,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your torso, your chin raised defiantly. “He’s just some weirdo. He knew where I lived in LA, too, and was too cowardly to show his fucking face, what difference does it make if he’s got my Austin address?”

“We’re going to tighten up security,” Tommy said, looking around you to Joel. 

“Tighten up?” You gaped at him before Joel had a chance to respond. “Tighten up how! Someone already follows me everywhere I go, is he supposed to, what, chase me into the bathroom when I take a piss now, too? This is insane! Quinn, tell them they’re insane!”

“It’s not insane,” Quinn said. “He’s escalating, there are valid concerns for your safety and we’re going to take the appropriate precautions. Maybe you should hear what those precautions are before you fly off the handle about it.” 

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes before you sighed. “Fine. Alright, what else am I going to have to fucking give up.” 

Joel’s jaw twitched but he remained silent, watching you closely as his brother started reviewing the changes. 

“Biggest one will be you’re never on the exterior of your home alone,” Tommy said. 

“I’m already never alone outside my house!” You gaped at him. 

“You’re never alone when you leave your property,” Tommy corrected. “But you’ve been able to go outside, swim, run, take a walk on your own as long as you stayed on your property. That will no longer be the case.” 

“Seriously?” You looked between Tommy and Joel, aghast. “I can’t step outside my own front door unsupervised? What am I, a toddler?” 

“We will also be stepping up who is on hand at your home,” Tommy said, ignoring your protests. “We’ll be doing more frequent perimeter checks and generally have a more active presence there. But that will be less obtrusive, you will still have just one body man when you leave the property for most outings.” 

“What about when I’m in LA?” You asked. 

“You ain’t serious,” Joel said before Tommy had a chance to answer. “You’re not still goin’ to fucking California, not after that letter.”

“Yes, I am,” you said. “I have to do some early shots in two days, the con is a week after that, followed by…” 

“And you can’t do any of it if you’re fuckin’ dead!” Joel snapped. “So you’re staying here, not goin’ to where that asshole is!” 

“No, she’s not,” Quinn said, a sense of finality in her voice. “She’s going to LA…” 

“You really willing to put her fucking life on the line for a goddamn movie?” Joel snapped, louder than he’d meant to but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. “You’re gonna let her get hurt, get killed so you assholes can make a few bucks?” 

“She won’t be at risk if…” 

“Not at risk?” Joel cut Quinn off. “If she ain’t at risk then why am I here!” 

“She is actually in the fucking room if you assholes would fucking listen to her!” You yelled, Joel turning to face you, shocked. He didn’t think he’d ever heard you yell like that before. “I’m going to LA.” 

Joel went to protest but you wouldn’t let him. 

“No!” You snapped, rounding on him. “I’m going to LA! I’m going to LA, I’m going to do my fucking job and I’m going to go to the con and the goddamn movie premiere and then I’m going to come home and spend Christmas with my niece and you’re going to stay out of my fucking way!” 

“Well that’s where you’re wrong,” Quinn said. 

“What?” You asked, still sounding pissed but not yelling now. 

“He won’t be out of your way,” Quinn said wryly. “Because he’s coming with you to everything.” 

“Well obviously,” you said, rolling your eyes. “He’s been doing that.” 

“I mean,” Quinn continued. “He’s going to come with you to the premiere. As your date.” 

You and Joel both stood silently for a moment, dumbstruck. 

“What,” Joel said eventually. 

“You’re going to the premiere as her date,” Tommy said this time, looking between the two of you. “They decided they need you there,” he said, nodding to you. “And last one was enough of an opening that you got hurt but having you walk the red carpet with a bodyguard isn’t really an option. So, we keep Joel close - as your date - and he keeps you safe.” 

“No,” Joel shook his head. “No, the answer is she don’t go to the damn premiere, not sending me along with her like I’m some kind of goddamn undercover agent or some shit, this ain’t…” 

“Can’t I just go with Chris or Justice or something?” You asked and Joel tried to ignore how his stomach turned at the thought of you with either of those fucking guys on your arm. “We just tell them what’s going on and…” 

“Someone who isn’t trained ain’t gonna cut it,” Tommy shook his head. “It has to be Joel.” 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Fine,” you said. “If that’s what it takes? Fine.” 

“This is a bad fuckin’ idea,” Joel muttered. “I don’t…” 

“Oh, come on Big Miller,” you said, your tone shifting to something more familiar, that dry, sarcastic edge to it he’d come to know well. “Didn’t you know? I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. There are men who would kill to be in your shoes.” 

“Yeah,” Joel muttered. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

He didn’t press the subject when the two of you got back to your house that night, the new cadence of protection already kicking in, more guards obvious at the perimeter of your property. You didn’t wait for Joel to open the car door for you - something you’d become more willing to do as time had passed. Instead you just stormed off toward the house, Joel following quickly behind you. Before he had the chance to lecture you about it, you looked back over your shoulder to him. 

“I’m going in the pool,” you snapped. “Since you apparently have to fucking babysit me anytime I step foot out my goddamn door now.” 

He expected you to go get changed into a swimsuit but you didn’t. Instead you just stalked straight through the entry way, the living room, out the back of the house, stepping out of your shoes as went, walking straight to the water’s edge without pausing and jumping in fully clothed. 

Joel stood and watched, worried for a moment when you didn’t surface immediately. But then you screamed under the water, the sound muffled and distorted and sounding almost desperate. You went quiet and surfaced, immediately going to a ladder and pulling yourself up, more stalking toward the house than walking, eyes straight ahead like Joel wasn’t even there, leaving a trail of water on the floor in your wake as you went to your bedroom and closed the door. 

Joel tried to ignore the tug of concern in his chest. He picked up Ellie from school - the kid so excited about having a few days off for Thanksgiving and seeing her grandmother - and played a video game with her. You didn’t come out of your room. He kept hoping to hear some sign of you when he went to his own room, even as he was desperate for some distance, and he thought he heard you come out at one point. Just your quiet steps in bare feet and the cadence of talking just out of reach of where really hear it. 

He tried to let that soothe him. You clearly didn’t want anything to do with him - not that he blamed you, he had literally asked for this - but he couldn’t help but worry as he stared at his ceiling. You were upset but you’d left your room, talked to Ellie, hopefully eaten something. That was… it was fine. Good, even. He didn’t need to be a part of it or see it for himself and he’d done everything he could to make sure that here, within these walls, you were safe. 

That thought didn’t help him actually, really rest, though. He started to drift off and the image of you, pinned down with a man’s hands around your throat took over. But this time, he was always too far away to fix it. He’d run and run and run but it was like he was moving through Jell-o, not able to reach you but not able to look away. 

He jerked awake, his heart racing in his chest, and he sighed, wiping a layer of sweat away from his face. 

It was late now, quiet in the house. He debated it, for a moment, but not for long, getting up and going to the kitchen for a drink. But when he passed the hall with your room and office, he saw a soft glow around your office door. He frowned at that, going to the kitchen and grabbing two beers before going to that glowing door. He hesitated for a moment. He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew better. He was the one who asked for a professional distance, he was the one who knew this couldn’t go anywhere good. But… you were right there, the comfort of knowing you were OK so close. 

He knocked. 

You were silent for a moment, long enough that he considered just going back to his room when you spoke. 

“Come in.” 

He did, finding you tucked into a corner of the couch that sat below the window, a tablet and papers spread on every surface around you. You seemed almost surprised to see him, your eyebrows rising as you looked at him through your lashes, not fully looking up from something that was sitting open on your lap. 

“I thought you might be Ellie,” you said. “Can I help you?”

He shrugged. 

“Saw the light,” he said, handing you the bottle, staying far enough away from you that he had to stretch to reach and you had to reach back to take it. “Thought you might… I dunno.” 

You nodded slowly, opening the beer and taking long pull. 

“Thanks,” you said, adjusting enough that the pages spread on the couch around you rustled. Joel just nodded, opening his own beer and taking a sip, too. He didn’t taste it much, one hand shoved in the pocket of his pajama pants as he walked slowly through your office, taking everything in. He was rarely in this room, he didn’t know it well. There was an Emmy on your desk and three more on a bookshelf. There were two Golden Globes, too, all in better shape than the Oscar was. He frowned at that. 

“How many of these damn things do you have?” He asked, glancing back over his shoulder to you. 

“Emmys?” You asked. “Just the four. Three for Siren and then one for Family Tree. That was my first one, they gave me some meatier things once I was in my teens. Some ‘very special episode’ type bullshit. One where I had to decide whether or not to have sex with my high school boyfriend, that sort of thing. The television academy ate it up. Then there are the Globes - one for Siren, one for The District - and there’s a SAG in my office in LA. I think that’s it.”

“Lot of hardware,” Joel said, coming back to the sitting area of your office, taking the chair near your end of the couch, his fingers rapping against the glass of his beer bottle. 

“Yeah, well,” you laughed, a little cynically. “I keep telling Leo he needs to get me on Broadway so I can win a Tony. Then all I need is some bullshit way to win a Grammy and I can EGOT.” 

“EGOT?” Joel frowned. 

“Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony,” you said. “All the big ones.” 

“Shit,” he shook his head a little, taking another swig of beer. “Aim high, I guess. What are you workin’ on?” 

“Character research,” you said, holding up what was on your lap. It was a comic book, one from the series he’d seen Ellie reading. “I think I’ve just about figured her out but I’m trying to make sure I feel good with it before Friday. I’ve been reading up on how people react to certain traumas, trying to fold that in, see what seems right.” 

“Didn’t know playin’ a superhero needed so much research,” he said. 

“Playing anyone requires research,” you said. “People are complicated things.”

“Suppose so,” he said. “What…” 

“Why are you here, Joel,” you cut him off. 

He clenched his jaw for a moment. 

“I…” he took a deep breath. “Do you really have to go to LA.” 

“Are you serious?” You gaped at him.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s not safe. Should stay here where we have shit more locked down and…” 

“And I have a movie to make!” You cut him off. “Do you really expect them to relocate production to fucking Texas because of me?” 

“Yes,” he said again. 

“Joel,” you pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. 

“Ain’t you some huge star?” He pressed on, staring down at his beer bottle, picking at the label with his thumb. “Got all those damn trophies, everyone on the damn planet knows your name, just have all that shit come to you and…” 

“Joel,” you said, more gently this time, gentle enough that he frowned, looking over at you. You smiled a little. “That’s not how it works.” 

“Why not.” 

“Because,” you said. “Do you know what goes into making a movie? It’s not just some actors and camera men. There’s equipment we’re using that only exists in a few places on the planet and LA is one of those places. We start principal photography in January, do you know how much work has already been done so we’re ready to shoot? Do you know how many people’s livelihoods depend on this movie being made when we said we were making it where we planned to make it? And I mean actual people, not just rich assholes like me. The budget on this movie is $210 million and yeah, $35 million of that is coming to me but the vast majority of that money is going to support the hundreds of people who work on the movie who are just trying to pay their mortgage and put their kids through college. We move locations, shift filming dates now? Those people are suddenly out of work when it’s too late to get on any other projects. If you don’t think you’re up for it, talk to Tommy, have them send someone else…” 

“No,” he said sharply. 

You frowned. 

“Why not?” You asked. “Just…” 

Joel clenched his jaw, looking down at the beer bottle again. The corner of the label was shredded. 

“Don’t trust anyone else,” he said. “If you’re goin’ to LA, it’s with me. End of story.” 

You were quiet for a moment.

“Why do you care so much?” You asked eventually. 

“I… I don’t…” he bounced his leg, trying to find the words before finally looking over at you again. “I don’t want to watch you die.” 

You scoffed.

“I don’t think anyone would really hold it against you if I do,” you said wryly. “So don’t worry about it.” 

“That ain’t why I’m worried,” he said sharply before taking a deep breath and going back to the bottle, picking away at the label more and more. “I didn’t take this job to watch someone fuckin’ hunt you down.” 

You were quiet again. 

“Why did you hit Alan today.” 

He took a shaky breath.

“I thought he was hurtin’ you,” he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. “And I.. I can’t…” 

He clenched his jaw, gripping the bottle so tight it hurt. 

“I need you to not get hurt,” he said. “Not gonna let you get yourself killed. And you… you just like to ignore what I tell you, you do reckless shit and it’s gonna…” 

“I’ll do what I’m told,” you cut him off, a keen kind of honesty in your voice, the shift noticeable enough that he looked over at you. Your eyes were oddly open, looking at him in much the same way you had the night you got hurt at the premiere, like all the artifice of your public persona had been stripped away and all that was left was yourself. “I don’t… I absolutely loathe just how much of my own life is out of my control and how all I am is just some thing all these other people move around to make money and the fact that I can’t even go outside right now without someone babysitting me… It struck a nerve. But… I’ll behave. I’ll do what you tell me to do. I won’t take any risks, I’ll tell you everything you need to know, I’ll obey when you tell me to do something. I’ll take it seriously.” 

He watched you for a moment.

“You’ll let me keep you safe?” He asked quietly. 

“I’ll let you keep me safe,” you said softly. “I promise. Just come with me to LA. You… you make me feel safe. I’ll do what you say, I’ll let you protect me. I promise.”  

“OK,” he nodded, looking at the label in pieces in his hands. “I’ll protect you.” 

He just prayed that would be enough. 

A/N: Thank you for reading! I know this took me roughly 6 million years to update and I wish I had a good reason for that but, in all honesty, I just don't. I appreciate you spending your time with these characters, even after I've left you hanging.

Things are going to start ramping up next chapter! I really can't wait for what's coming, there's stuff I've been picturing since I first thought up this story that is just around the corner. I hope you enjoy it!

In the mean time, if you want to see what Thanksgiving Day was like for Siren and Joel, you can check out this (now officially canon) one shot I posted for the holiday.

Thanks again for being here! I love sharing this story with you all.

Love you!!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler @lilyevanstan1325 @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @wintersquirrel @missladym1981 @mellymbee @canthinkof1user @inept-the-magnificent @secretlyangelic @pedrobae @scarletsloveletter @phry-k @sunnytuliptime

[frozenjokes]

cubfan135 does not want to kill his mom

ao3 link tw: minor instance of suicidal ideation, this fic is rated mature on ao3 and it is violent

Cub felt each impact of his foot hitting the ground, thump, thump, thump, a beating drum to the violent storm of his own head, unable to be drowned out by music as he’d forgotten last night to charge his headphones. Stupid- wireless headphones. He never forgot, it was utter insanity to wake up in the morning and find them dead, and maybe it childish to have his world turned upside down by something so small, Cub felt childish, but-

Thump, thump, thump, the sound of his shoes on the pavement, the beating of his heart. He could feel his rib cage rattle with every shaky breath, he could hear it, he still wore his headphones out for the chance he might be able to block the sound of his brittle guilt, but it was all for nothing, and really he should have just left them at home to charge while he was on his walk. He should have waited for them to charge at least a little before going out, but he could not wait, he could not let himself stay inside any longer.

Cub stared at his shoes, he watched every footfall, was acutely aware of every sound, that his were the only footsteps on this block.

“Whoa, you wanna kill your mom? That’s fucked, man. That’s pretty crazy. You could do it though, like, you do have free will.”

Cub should have screamed, he wanted to, he was well and truly startled, but no noise left his lips. He whirled around, eyes wide and mouth gaping. He- He hadn’t said that out loud, had he-? Just in case this interaction hadn’t made him want to wither away already, the stranger behind him, standing amicably with his thumbs in his pockets, went on.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Cub squeaked, gritting his teeth against the noise and walking faster. The stranger kept pace, but always stayed behind him, never beside.

“Y’know, thinking isn’t a crime. All sorts of people want to kill their mom in horrifically gruesome ways, it happens. Intrusive thoughts, right? What’s nice about your case, is you’ll probably feel better once you’ve done it. I mean, legal complications aside..”

“I need you to stop talking to me.”

“Oh, but I love talking!”

“I’m going to call the police, I’m serious.”

The stranger scoffed, and Cub could practically hear him roll his eyes, “There are a number of reasons that’s a stupid thing to say to me, but I’ll start with the fact that I’m not real.” The following silence rang out in waves, Cub freezing where he stepped. He whipped around. No one was there. He’d never heard a second pair of footsteps.

“Made ‘jya look!”

Cub did scream this time, tripping over his legs and falling directly onto his ass, and continuing to scramble backward did not stop the stranger from looming over him.

“I’m just joking around, I’m real. You’re slow though, I just kinda walked around you in a semicircle, no fancy tricks or anything. I do have tricks if you want to see them! Maybe not now.” The stranger paused, scrutinizing Cub with narrowed eyes, “So what’s stopping you? What’s actually stopping you? Oh god, is it the Christians? I feel like it’s always that, I bet you’re Catholic, aren’t you.”

“..Lutheran. Not really practicing, but-“

“It’s all the same!” The stranger threw up his hands with a huff, head back, “Once they get their grubby little hands on you it’s over, there’s not a thing you all aren’t guilty about, drives me crazy! You’re not going to hell! You guys made that up!”

“I don’t want to kill my mom. I like my mom.”

“You do want to, I heard you talking under your breath about it, sounded pre-tty crazy.”

“Oh god.”

“What, do you think I read minds? No! You told me! If you want to kill your mom, just do it, she’s not gonna care, she’s dead, and you’ll feel a lot better!”

“I don’t want to kill my mom!”

“Isn’t that what mothers are for? Laying their lives down for their children? Y’know, if she really loved you she’d let you kill her. She’d be happy for you.”

Cub balled his fists in his hair, pulling hard enough to tear his scalp. “Shut up! Shut! Up!” He drew his knees to his forehead, he needed to die, he deserved to die, no one- no one else in the world was this bad, born bad, molded evil. Every granule of dirt and dried blood under his fingernails itched, he felt them, he felt the evidence of his sin every second of every day, the night hardly an escape, dreams stained by viscera. Picking his nails until they bled did nothing. He could not escape it.

The snap of plastic jolted him stiff, breathing hard, staring uselessly at his headphones, the band cracked cleanly in two. The stranger was gone in all but voice, which seemed to resound from every direction.

Gentle, almost kind.

“You need help, you just call for Scar, alright? I’ll be there.”

…

It was not easy to shower with a shackled wrist, but Cub made do. He’d been making do for a while now, a few months over the course of his concussion recovery, but he had long passed the point of being too sick to move. He was bored, so oftentimes he sat in the shower, letting the warm water smooth over his growing ever-longer hair. Scar had offered to cut it, he knew just as well that Cub didn’t like it long, but Cub was mad at him right now, and didn’t want to give Scar the satisfaction of being able to care for him.

Cub stared at the chain, loose between his legs in the shallow bathtub. It had long begun to rust, a result of Cub’s long and frequent showers. If the water was hot enough, the chain would hold its warmth, and Cub would get to hold it close in the absence of the tub, bathe in the fleeting sun.

For the most part, his prison was padded. There were no weapons, no sharp objects, nothing blunt that wasn’t nailed down. Cub didn’t intend on hurting himself for fun, but it would be difficult in a place like this. Scar’s intentions were to keep Cub safe from outside threats, from his own tumultuous impulses, and that was fine. Cub had enough sacrifices to keep him sated. Scar was very good to his dogs.

Dog.

Cub was the last one, for now. Scar kept dangerous pets, dangerous to others, but especially dangerous to themselves. They were animals that barked, bit, and tore, but would not let go, even when the bull they’d affixed themselves to had gorged its horns through their stomachs. Cub had a particular problem with witnesses; compulsively, he could not leave them alive, and he’d be running through the streets to gun them down if it meant securing that kill. It was a good thing that despite Cub’s vast improvements since his injuries, he still had no memory of the day it had happened. He’d have gone crazy down here, killed himself trying to escape, and Scar knew it too.

Especially unfortunate, given what Mumbo was. What Scar undoubtedly wanted with him. Cub had to wonder, if his pets did not get along, would he give up the new toy or shoot the old dog? Neither, probably. Scar was greedy, he would find a way to keep them both, even if it meant altering Cub against his will.

Mumbo.

Cub couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Maybe that was a bad sign. Maybe that meant Mumbo had in fact been present at the hit, that Cub knew it subconsciously, and still needed to hunt him down, but.. It didn’t feel that way. Cub could not place the emotion, he didn’t know why, but he needed to see Mumbo again, he needed to get out of here-

Maybe Cub was just restless. He’d never had to be contained for so long, he’d never been hurt so badly, and even with Scar doing his best, he was no healer, no doctor. Cub wondered how permanent this would be. His memory loss, his unsteady gait, the constant ringing in his ears. Scar would not keep Cub here forever, Cub probably wouldn’t even be here much longer, but it all depended on how Scar thought he was doing, if Scar was certain Cub wouldn’t immediately die upon having his freedoms reinstated.

Cub leaned back in the plastic tub, head against the rim, eyes closed. He got everything he could ever want here. Accommodations, any food or drink he requested. Any place he wished to visit, Scar would take him, or at the very least sponsor him. Cub didn’t really have any friends. They were all dead. It seemed he was on his way there as well, the cracks from old injuries already wearing him down before the severe head injury. It wouldn’t be much longer before Cub was caught off guard, and he had never known how to run. He didn’t want to live a life without a fight, without the ability to make bleed, and Scar had sustained that for him. Scar gave him everything, for figuratively nothing in return besides Cub’s allowing Scar to care for him. Scar didn’t ask for money, for sex, for company, or any other human desires.. Cub supposed he wasn’t human, so..

Cub was lonely, though. He supposed he’d always been. Maybe that’s why he was thinking about Mumbo so much? Was that why the thought of Scar seemed to grow the pit in his stomach?

Maybe he was afraid to die. He certainly wouldn’t have survived this long without Scar, scared of his own shadow, his mind, his mother.

Cub was grateful.

He did not want to leave.

Cub looked down at his hand, the shackle on his wrist, the chain spiraling off it. He lifted it, gingerly.

He smashed it against the tub floor. He did it again. Again. Again. Again, until the bones cracked.

…

Cub probably should have realized he was going to have to call Scar eventually, but he did not have the mind to puzzle out how to avoid encounters with two irritating people instead of one. Scar’s assault on his buzzing ears was going to be a trial of endurance, though, in comparison to getting a gratuitous rundown on the severity of his concussions, facing Scar was starting to sound like reprieve.

It didn't matter much in the end.

Cub’s ears were ringing, he couldn’t walk in a straight line, and he wanted to go home.

Scar was already in the waiting room when Cub stepped out of the doctor’s office, sitting next to the whiny shit who’d given Cub a ride, whose name Cub could not remember. Cub’s presence seemed to set Whiny Shit on edge, but Scar was delighted, closing his magazine and jumping up to meet him.

“Look who it is! Gawsh, pretty banged up, aren’t you? I was worried, Cubby! What’s the damage?”

“Concussion.”

“Just one?”

“..No.”

“Come on now,” Scar set his hands on his hips, eyebrows raised in a silly expression of disbelief, which might have made Cub smile if he didn’t know what he was in for during the recovery period.

“Seven.”

“Seven! Cuuuub! That’s a lot!”

“Can we go home now.”

Scar relaxed into something more sympathetic, almost sweet. Scar could be sweet, Cub had seen it, but his interests did not lie in domesticity. Cub supposed his own didn’t either, but he wasn’t immune to vulnerability, and the LEDs in this hospital waiting room were just so bright.

“Soon,” Scar said, almost a whisper, “There’s just someone I’d like to meet.”

“No!”

Cub had forgotten Whiny Shit was there, startling when the small man shot up, but Scar did not move besides putting a hand on Cub’s shoulder.

“Drawing a lot of attention to yourself, aren’t you,” Scar spoke like he was bored, like he might not have been addressing the other man at all, “Keep barking, see where it gets you. Bite, and we’ll have a party.”

The other man’s entire body twitched, almost jerking, before he sat back down. Cub thought Scar must have had something to do with it until he met the other man’s eyes, the hate so overwhelming that Cub fully believed it had taken all his self control to keep from ripping Scar to pieces.

He must know. If that was true, he probably wasn’t human either.

Cub didn’t realize he was staring until the other man’s ire snapped on him like jaws, and Cub did not know how to escape until Scar’s voice distracted them both.

“Just the man I’ve been waiting to see!”

Cub was promptly abandoned, Scar skipping over to the newest release from the doctor’s office, holding out his hand to shake.

“Call me Scar, now what can I call you? I heard you had quite the night with my good friend over there!”

“I-Mumbo?” Mumbo went from positively startled to still-very-frightened as he spotted his friend and Cub behind Scar, seeming to slowly connect the dots. “Oh.. Gosh, I’m very sorry. I think.” Out of pure awkwardness, Mumbo shook Scar’s hand, but seemed like he’d much rather be shrinking away, which, Cub knew the feeling.

“We aren’t pressing charges,” Scar smirked, to which Mumbo went back to looking terrified, “I just had to put a wild night to a name and face! Goodness gracious, you both look terrible! What’s your verdict?”

“What?” Mumbo squeaked, and Cub did not envy him.

“How many concussions?”

“Oh.” Mumbo pursed his lips, sheepish. “Five.”

“Cub!” Scar released Mumbo, turning back with his arms thrown high, “He totally beat you! I can’t believe it! You’re really getting up there in years, aren’t you,” Scar sighed, to which Cub mumbled that he was only thirty five, but Scar didn’t actually care. “Alright, alright, let’s get out of here. You need some rest, like, months worth of rest, this is gonna be a total bummer.” Scar marched forward, taking Cub’s hand as he went. “Bye Mumbo!”

Mumbo did not respond.

And it was only at this point, being dragged out the door by the hand, that Cub realized exactly what this was about. Mumbo was like him. Whether or not he knew was a mystery, but his friend certainly did. And so did Scar.

Cub frowned, closing his eyes against the thought. He couldn’t think about this right now. Everything hurt too badly.

Whatever the case, those two had one hell of a storm coming their way.

…

Cub had lived in the same house his entire life, twenty seven years, which, had been feeling like too long for a while now, but there was little he could do on that front, never able to hold down a job or even find the will to care for himself most days. He was a mess in all senses of the word, and it was a relief that his mother knew, she knew, too aware of the nature of the man she’d laid with those nights, and with the scars to prove it. She was not stupid, she knew the thing they’d created would not be easy, would not be kind, but she loved Cub still. She did not care if he stayed home for the rest of his life, if he could not provide for himself, she knew his struggle held ties more ancient than her own. His mother liked to have Cub close, and he wanted the same, to stay within distance of her arms, should he be unable to bear the world any longer.

Now she was at the bottom of the stairs, unmoving. There was so little blood, just a patch on the chipped white paint of one of the ledges, and little below her head, where her neck sat at a slightly crooked angle.

She did not look afraid. She did not look peaceful. She looked dead.

“Scar?” Cub whispered. Somehow he knew Scar would hear. Maybe he even knew that Scar was already here; it did not frighten Cub when he appeared from behind the wall to the living room, partially obscured by the dark. Cub had not spoken to Scar since they’d first met, walking along the block, but he had not stopped thinking about him. Cub had a feeling Scar knew that, too.

“She’s not dead, Cub. Not yet.” Scar’s face was obscured by the dark, but Cub saw the glint of his green eyes all the same. “You can’t save her.”

Cub did not move from his place at the top of the stairwell, the place he’d been standing for so long, stock still, unblinking. He was not afraid. He was not even upset. His focus was instead overwhelmed by that age old pull, alive and new, down the stairs, go down, but this was not a lingering thought at the back of his mind anymore. If he took that first step, he would never be able to go back.

“You don’t have to let this go to waste. You’ve done the hardest part already.”

Was that true? Cub’s mind was static, and honestly, truly, he could not remember how he got here, standing at the top of the landing, staring down at the pale form of his mother. She was so still. She looked so dead. Was Scar.. Surely he wasn’t trying to insinuate..

“Cub.” Scar cut into his thought, stepping into the low light. “You’re running out of time.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t do this!”

“Cub.”

“Scar!” Cub screamed, wailed, he did not do this, he did not push her, he never would have pushed her- This was too simple, too beautiful, Cub’s mind was too messy for this, fantasies raw and gory, he would not have pushed her-

Why was Scar here. Why was he already here.

“Cub,” and his voice was so gentle, so kind, the type of maternal tone that soothed your anxieties even if it could not quell them, the kind that talked you down, spoke to you softly, clearly, gave you room to breathe, “You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to do anything at all.” Scar tilted his head, a small gesture. “I’ll be here.”

It was not a question, really. An offer, yes. But there was only one answer. Cub had no one else. Cub wanted no one else.

There were no more barriers.

After the first step, there was no more hesitation.

…

Cub had always experienced a numbed sense of pain, but with no adrenaline to cover it, an untreated broken wrist with a scuffed homemade cast was not. the most comfortable injury. in the world. Luckily, Scar had an extensive stash of opioids, so right now Cub had absolutely no pain and was 100% on top of the world.

He managed to knock on Mumbo’s door with his non-broken wrist, but it was a close call.

When Mumbo answered, he stared for a long time, like he’d forgotten Cub’s face. Cub did not blame him; he’d forgotten most of the details of Mumbo’s as well, but luckily the amnesia he’d been struggling with for a few months had gotten less severe over time, and remembering new information was not so much of a struggle. He wanted to remember Mumbo’s face this time, focusing on storing all the pieces.

“It’s Cub,” he said, just in case Mumbo was still having trouble, “We gave each other a bunch of concussions probably. Then had sex. Probably.”

“How. Did you find my address.” Fair question.

“Looked you up. Found it.”

“But. You don’t. You don’t even know-“

“Your name? I do now. A fake name doesn’t do much when you go by Mumbo Jumbo literally everywhere. Still a dumb name. I followed you on instagram and you should follow me back. You’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t follow me back. Would you feel better if you knew where I live?”

“Oh. Well. I don’t know. I’m finding this conversation quite disturbing. Why are you here?”

“I live at the clownvent.”

“The what?”

“The clownvent. The clown convent. They call it the clownvent. I’m not a clown though, that’s just a friend. I don’t have my own place so I live at the clownvent.”

“Are the clowns.. nuns..?”

“No. Have you not seen the clownvent before? It’s where all the circus clowns live. Right by the circus. There’s a lot of clowns.”

“Are the clowns assassins?”

“No. They’re just clowns. They live in the clownvent. I’m going to come inside now. I might cry.”

“Oh god, please don’t,” but Mumbo didn’t have a choice, Cub already pushing past him.

Mumbo’s house was a lot more normal than Cub expected, a little cramped, but in sort of a cozy way, decorations reminiscent of middle-class white women packed onto every wall and corner. Cub was judging Mumbo a little bit for that, but most of him was wondering how Mumbo could even afford a house. Did he work? Cub had just assumed he didn’t, but maybe Mumbo was more put together than Cub had been before Scar. Maybe Mumbo had a roommate. Housemate. Whatever. Why were there so many accent pillows on his couch? How were you supposed to sit with like eight tiny pillows in the way? Cub had a lot of big feelings regarding the topic, but he was a little too high to express any of this in a succinct manner, so instead he threw four of them onto the floor, tore the blanket off the arm of the couch, and bundled himself up as tight as he could manage without disturbing his wrist.

“Please get out of my house.”

“Do you have any more blankets. This one sucks. Why is your couch so hard, is it not for sitting?”

“We have more blankets, but I’m not getting you one because you’re trespassing and you need to leave. Are you on a hit or something? Did someone drug you?” Mumbo left the doorway to scrutinize Cub closer, but Cub did not like being stared at very much, so he buried his head under the flimsy awful blanket. It was probably meant to be an accent blanket, stupid accent blanket to go with his stupid accent pillows and stupid white woman decorations, this place sucked.

“I need help.”

Cub must have sounded sincere enough, since Mumbo’s face softened into an expression Cub couldn’t quite read. Not quite pity, not really concern either. Interest? Almost. Cub had to jump on this before he lost his chance, and chose his next words carefully.

“I am. Very. Very.” Cub paused, eyebrows knit. “Very.” Mumbo pursed his lips, growing tired. “High.”

“I got that.”

“I broke my wrist. I broke it bad. I had to get out, I had to come see you. Got bruises too, just threw myself against the door until the lock broke. I’ve done that before. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. Do you know? Do you know what you are?”

Mumbo’s expression tensed, confusion making the edges of his lips twitch. “You were.. kidnapped?”

“Not necessi- ness- how do you- No. A little bit. Can you sit down. Too tall. My eyes hurt.”

Cub was pleased to see he had Mumbo’s attention, the other man slowly moving to sit on the opposite end of the couch. “What does this have to do with me?”

“You hurt me. We hurt each other, probably. I know why. It’s so overwhelming, isn’t it? I thought it might get better, you know, when you take a life, and it.. it’s complicated. I don’t feel remorse. I don’t regret it. I just want to go home. Are your parents still alive?”

Mumbo’s brow furrowed, eying Cub like he was afraid he’d might bite, “I grew up in the adoption system. Never had parents.”

“No one wanted you? Sorry. You didn’t get adopted? You don’t know your birth parents?”

Mumbo snorted, “I think they knew they were in for a troubled kid. Didn’t want to deal with it.”

“They did know.”

Mumbo stared at Cub for a long time, a long time, studying every crease of his face, every shape, the part of his hair, the color of his eyes.

“Are we related!?”

Cub blinked, then blinked again, startled, “No! No, that’s- definitely not. My mom only had one kid, and she- I didn’t know my dad, but we don’t look anything alike, we are not related.”

“Why are you saying all this cryptic shit then!?”

“Don’t you get it? We’re wrong. This isn’t normal, this isn’t even ‘mentally ill human’ normal, our parents are- at least one of them is- I don’t know! Hell isn’t real, they’re probably not demons, but they’re not- we aren’t- We have to track down your parents, Mumbo, have you ever tried? I need- I need to go home.”

Again, Mumbo looked at him, but it wasn’t the same kind of focused scrutiny, it was distant, like his mind was somewhere else entirely.

“Cub.. You’re having a really bad trip, alright? Just.. relax.. I’ll get you a blanket.” Like it was really that simple, Mumbo got up, moving to a basket of folded blankets across the room.

No. No! Cub wanted to scream, to tell him no, but the words got tangled on his tongue until he choked on them, he couldn’t breathe, he was- he was- Crying. Ah…

If Mumbo was put off, he did a good job not showing it, wrapping the second blanket loosely over the first, then stepping back, sitting on the recliner across the way instead of the couch.

“What did you take, Cub? And how much?”

The questions made Cub violent, but his brief thrash was contained by the original blanket and the agonizing pain that shot every direction from his shattered wrist, fingers numb and the rest of him fried, mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Mumbo did not ask another question for a long, long time. When he finally spoke, Cub nearly missed it.

“What can I do for you?”

Cub didn’t bother unburying his head from his blankets, but he did think about it, he was thinking, and beyond water, beyond home, there was really only one thing he wanted.

“I hate my hair. I hate my hair, it’s too long, it’s everywhere, it itches, it never dries, I want it gone.”

And that was that.

Cub didn’t quite remember moving to the bathroom, but now he was sitting on a precarious stool, the accent blanket still wrapped snugly over his shoulders. He kept his eyes closed, the buzz of the razor a small reprieve to the ringing in his own ears, soft, consistent, comforting in small ways. His hair had grown long over his ears, too far past his neck in the back, wavy, and always in the way. The release of its weight was euphoric, each piece falling off his back driving him higher.

“Is this- fine?” Mumbo sounded nervous, but Cub couldn’t imagine why when he himself had never felt so wonderful in his whole life. “I mean, I cut my own hair, I know how to do it, but Grian won’t even let me touch his hair, and in his defense, doing my own hair a lot different than working on another person- a buzz isn’t very hard though, I mean- I hope that’s what you wanted. That’s what you said you wanted.”

“It’s perfect.”

“Your eyes are closed.”

“It’s perfect.”

“You know, I’m just going to take your word for it.”

The doorbell rang, and Mumbo snorted, mumbling something along the lines of ‘he has a key..’ before setting down his razor, leaving the bathroom to run to the front door. Cub felt the loss immediately, eyes blinking open before stumbling, nearly falling off the stool. He followed clumsily, but hardly made it into the hall before Mumbo was opening the front door just ahead.

“You know I spent money printing those extra keys for you, right. Our house keys? Our house keys that you keep losing?”

Grian huffed, sliding past Mumbo without trouble, “Maybe I just want your face to be the first thing I see after a long day at work, and you’re acting like that’s a crime.” Grian turned to walk down the hall, and Mumbo failed to catch his shoulder.

“Hey, wait a second, G-“ But it was too late.

Cub wasn’t exactly surprised to see Grian, but the horror on the other man’s face made Cub feel like a deer in the headlights, and the sudden rage that contorted it had Cub shrinking into his skin.

“GET OUT!!” Grian screamed, he screamed so loud that Mumbo jumped, shutting the front door on instinct, but Cub only froze, the drugs in his system impairing every other line of action. “GET! OUT!” Grian lunged forward, the world was moving so fast, the hall was so narrow, and Cub had to stumble backwards just to get away.

“Grian- Grian stop-!” Mumbo was equally startled, rushing forward, but not in time to keep Grian from slipping behind Cub and pushing him, hitting him forward, some blows seeming not to make contact despite thrusting Cub forward anyway. With multiple screaming voices, the world was suddenly just noise, all noise, and Cub fell blindly as he scrambled for the front door. He reached for the handle with his shattered wrist, yelled when they connected, and shrieked when Grian threw him forward regardless, ripping the door open behind Cub and pushing him down the front stoop. Even with his screaming wrist, Cub still tried to break his fall with both hands, whiting out upon contact. He was curled in on his knees when he came to, Grian’s voice clear over Mumbo’s.

“You better hope you’re gone by the time the police get here-!”

Mumbo tried to speak, but his voice disappeared behind the slammed front door, both men reduced to muffled nothings.

Cub cried Scar’s name. It wasn’t long before Cub was in his arms.

[stardust-thief]

ada wong x reader enemies to lovers and we make out in the end please and ty

hello @omorebi u cannot hide from me!! dinner is served rue i hope it's good enough for u

synopsis: you're helping leon find ashley graham in spain, for a moment you're seperated from them both. but never fear! ada wong is here to save the day (she does no saving, like at all she just looks hot), 1.3k

cw: no smut but there is tension, and maybe a little knife play rue don't look at me, vague non-lethal threats, mention of raccoon city incident in re2, lip locking, they make out hard, ada is a tease, and a little ooc im sorry

request /// masterlist

After a long, hard trek through a Spanish village, you would think a castle would be a welcome reprieve. While it was better than facing waves upon waves of crazed villagers, it still did nothing to soothe the anxiety coursing through your blood.

It was clear when you and Leon were assigned to the case that it would be strange, no one would give a normal assignment to the survivors of the Raccoon City incident, but nothing had really prepared you for this. In some way, it reminded you a lot of that September night back home. Swaths of innocent people brutalised by something they had no part in, minions to a powerful man's schemes. If you were anything less, seeing it all happen again might have broken you. But years of being forced to work under the government made you no damsel in distress.

The two of you had worked your way through the village, finding Ashley, and ended up inside the desolate castle walls. Where you promptly lost them both! Ashley’s infection was getting worse, making her more volatile and scared. Honestly, you could hardly blame the girl. Feeling the virus worm its way through your own body was hardly something you were happy about. Which was exactly why you needed to find them again, preferably before the virus took complete control. Leon had met a scientist named Luis Sera who had promised you all the cure to the virus, if only you could find him again. The Spaniard had a habit of popping up and disappearing at the most inopportune times.

With no choice but to move forward, you pushed the colossal door open and found yourself face to face with two figures in a clock, both had gargantuan alien maws on top of their normal heads. You rolled under one as it reached out to grab you and pulled yourself up so you were now facing their backs. The creatures slowly turned around as you reached for the gun in your thigh holster and disposed of the one on your left. You switched your aim to the second, pulled the trigger and - click. No more bullets. Fuck. With every step the monster took forward, you took two back, reaching into your pocket for more bullets. As soon as you bring the gun back to aim, the creature falls dead to the floor. 

“Thought you were smart enough to not get caught reloading like that.” A smooth, syrupy voice says from behind you. “Could’ve got hurt real bad there.”

As you turn you say, “Well then, it’s a good thing I had you there Ada. Always saving the day.” Ada Wong was a mercenary who you first met in Raccoon City. From your previous galivants with her you knew she was trouble. Unfortunately, you also knew that she was maybe the hottest person you’ve ever seen. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here. Leon, yes, but I never expected you to become their lapdog as well.” She crooned.

“A little hypocritical don’t you think? What’re you here for this time Ada?”

“Oh, how I do love hearing my name from your lips. I’ve missed you, you know. Six years has been too long.”

Is she trying to seduce you right now? In this dusty room with two still warm corpses behind you? Is it working? “Stop trying to distract me Ada, I have a mission to complete so unless you’re here to help me I suggest you step aside.”

“Right, you’re here for the girl. She’s a lost cause, you should get out of here while you still can.”

“Ada, you know I can’t do that. I’ve got to get back to Leon so if you could get back to whatever plotting and scheming you’re doing and leave, that would be great.” You bit out.

She hummed and took a step closer to you, “I could help you, if you wanted it. I know you’re sick from the virus. How long has it been in you now? I have the cure, you just have to be willing to pay.” With every word her voice grew deeper and deeper, it thickened into something soothing to listen too. It almost made you want to agree with her.

“No, Ada.” You snapped, “Leon and I found someone with the cure, I don’t need your scraps.”

“You wound me, truly. I guarantee you I could help you quicker than Luis could, all I need is a little something from you. I promise it won’t hurt.”

“How do you know Luis?”

She frowned at you and cocked her head, “How bad at my job do you think I am? I’ve known about Luis Sera longer than you have.”

“That bastard’s on your side isn’t he?” You tighten your grip on the gun, a motion that doesn’t go unseen by the woman across from you. “He’ll make the drug and you’ll sell it to the highest bidder, I knew you hadn’t changed. Get out of my way Ada, I don’t want to play this game with you.”

“Or what, you’ll shoot? It’ll take a lot more than that to put me down. Or we can tussle, let it all out?” As she (rather euphemistically) spoke, she unsheathed a blade from her side and positioned herself as if to fight. Her form was uncharacteristically bad, her left side was completely open, as if she somehow forgot how to fight hand-to-hand combat. Which you knew was a lie considering how natural it came to her in Raccoon City.

Taking the bait, you  threw your gun to the side and moved into her space; you spun her so her back was pressed to your front. In your hands was her knife, her knife that was pressed against her throat.

You felt her throat bob as she said, “Nice move hotshot, who taught you that one?” Without even letting you respond she twisted you both around and pressed you into the wall, knife now somehow back in her possession. She traced the point down the middle of your chest. “Not nice enough.”

The air thickened as she pressed her body closer to yours, you could feel every curve on her body, feel every breath she took. Unbidden, your eyes moved down to trace the shape of her lips. You watch as the corners tilted upwards. Her breath warmed as it hit your face, she leaned in further until your lips were ghosting each other. You looked up to see her eyes boring into yours. 

Much to your chagrin, you closed the gap between your lips. Hers were smooth and warm, nothing like how chapped your mouth had gotten due the Spanish heat. You wouldn’t be surprised if Ada carried a secret compartment of lip balm in her shoe. The knife in her hand pressed further into your chest - not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to remind you it was there. Your hands rested on her hips, desperate to pull her in more. She let out a hum from deep in her chest and pulled away, laughing as you followed her movements.

“I don’t think Leon would be too happy to hear about this.”

Catching your breath, you spluttered, “Way to ruin the mood, Wong.”

“I live to serve,” she mused, “speaking of serve, I really must be off. The overlord beckons.” She moved towards the open window, letting her hand graze your body as she passed.

“You’re leaving? After that?”

“I thought you had a girl to find? Don’t worry, you’ll find me again soon.” With that, she took out her grappling hook and shot it off into the distance. 

Ada’s abrupt leaving shouldn’t shock you much, she was never one to like goodbyes. But riling you up like this was something new to the both of you. Honestly, it might be something you could get used to, if she weren’t fighting opposite you of course. 

Shaking the wildly inappropriate thoughts from your head, you recollected your gun and went to continue your quest into the castle. As you move, a glint from the window catches your eye. You find yourself picking up Ada’s knife again, the steel still warm in your hand. Maybe you two would meet again. It would be rude to not return a lady’s knife, after all.

[unityrain24]

is tumblr stealing my information SPECIFICALLY so they can attempt to trigger me

[sadgirlautumn]

I’m currently very upset about the American healthcare system. Like I hope they know that they are making people actively sicker 🫶

[puzzlekinq]

cant sleep because im seething with anger

[homunculus-argument]

Once again randomly remembered this story about a couple who had a small parrot - pretty sure it was a budgie - who didn't talk but learned to communicate with people in its own way. Once it figured out that people always turn to check their phones when the notification sound comes on, it started making the text message notification sound to request human attention. The parrot also liked to follow people to the door whenever guests were leaving, and would use its wings to pantomime the motions of a person putting their coat on. A very clever, charming bird.

And every once in a while it just randomly hated some people. Not for any real reason, or even reason to suspect bad vibes, but by deciding "fuck this person in particular" for shits and giggles alone. And one time when the owners had invited a new friend to their home, the bird decided that it Did Not Like Her.

So in the middle of polite conversation, the bird - who was free to roam around the apartment at the time - hopped onto the living room coffee table, right in front of the unwanted guest. And in that moment, the owners put two and two together and understood that whatever mischief the bird had decided to do, it was now too late to stop it.

But instead of unleashing the absolute hell that even the tiniest displeased parrot could be capable of, the little budgie made its little "may I have your attention please" cell phone notification sound, and once the guest was focused on the bird, looked at her dead in the eye while doing the putting-my-coat-on wing motion.

The guest did not recognise the pantomime for what it was, but she was nonetheless delighted that the parrot would do a little wing-roll dance for her. And the host couple were at first too stunned and then too polite to tell her how impressive that gesture truly was. Their bird had shown both remarkable restraint and cleverness by using its entire vocabulary of human communication just to say

"I have an important announcement: I think you should leave."

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Kafka

[deathbxnny]

Arcane characters when someone flirts with you. | Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika x Gn!Reader

I am the brain rot. The brain rot is me.✨️

Content: pre season 2 Viktor/Jayce!, Jealousy, pitfighter Vi, established romantic relationships, angst, threats of violence/death threats, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He always struggled with self-esteem issues, mainly due to his sickness and disability that made it difficult for him to do much. A part of him forever will believe that you could easily do better than him, yet that doesn't stop him from getting terribly jealous anytime someone gets too friendly with you. Especially when they can see him standing next to you clearly being your partner as well.

But despite his insecurities, he doesn't allow anyone to harass you either on his watch. He lets you defend yourself for the most part until he has enough and lets his more sassy side handle the flirtatious person for you. He may not be able to do anything in a physical way, something he very much would rather avoid. But his tongue is sharp, and it takes little to make them quickly scurry away with a nervous apology for the disturbance.

He'll never admit to being jealous, however, and denies any teasing accusations you send his way. But he'll secretly ask for reassurance as he starts feeling embarrassed over his insecurities rather quickly after. A couple of hugs and kisses from your side will fix that right up, though.

》JAYCE

He has a reputation to keep up. And so, technically, he should always handle things professionally no matter what. People are watching him after all, and his public image can not be tarnished under any circumstance... or so he says. Things change in his mind when they are about you. In general, people know who you are and who you belong to since he rarely shuts up about it.

But every now and then, someone who is somehow unfamiliar with this concept will come up to you and attempt to woo you right in front of his very eyes. Now, Jayce tries to let you handle yourself, but doesn't hesitate to step in either if the person doesn't get the hint. His rather intimidating frame and position as a councilor help him out Immensely with this. He chases them away with a tight smile and a kiss to your head, as he casually asks how he can oh so graciously help them.

Once they leave, he'll pretend not to hear you, of you teasingly asking him if he was jealous. Him? Jealous? Hah! Impossible... okay, maybe a little. But don't tell anyone that.

》VI

As a pitfighter, Vi doesn't hesitate to get violent with anyone who comes close to the only good thing she has left in her life, which happens to be you. She's extremely protective and makes sure everyone gets the hint regarding who you belong to. But alas, there are always the couple strays that refuse to comprehend that fact and therefore attempt to "steal" you away from her. Something that never ends well for anyone.

Her temper is shorter than it used to be, and that becomes quite clear when she's quick to loom over the person that was pestering you. She knows that you can handle yourself just fine, too. But that doesn't stop her from grabbing their shoulder and asking them if she can help them out instead. Or maybe they want to talk it out in the pit? All the same to her, but the message is clear. She'll win if it comes to you every time, and that's enough to make the person scurry away in terror.

You'll definitely have to calm her down and reassure that you had everything handled. She's just looking out for you, though, and doesn't want you to get hurt, too, like everyone else in her life. The last thing she wants is to mess up again, so her overprotective tendencies will probably never lessen. Not that you kind anyways.

》CAITLYN

Your role as her partner is crystal clear to absolutely everyone in Piltover, especially after she takes over the troops as their new ruler. She's much more cutthroat and cold than she used to be before her mothers death, which made her extremely overprotective of you and your safety. She may even be suffocating at times with her security measures, but she finds it absolutely necessary. This also means, however, that those who try becoming a bit too friendly with you are always at risk of facing her wrath.

She doesn't hold back with her dismay and is quick to stand before you with a dark, stern glare directed at whoever was flirting with you beforehand. Caitlyn doesn't care if you can take care of yourself or not either. She'll take full advantage of her new position and power too, not hesitating to give the person that was pestering you a professionally worded threat that leaves them as pale as a ghost.

Admittedly, it's hard to tell if she's jealous or just worried in her own way. Before her mother's death, it may very well just be her being a bit jealous... but with her current position, she may also just be afraid to lose you too deep down. And she couldn't handle that.

》JINX

After Silco's death, Jinx's temper is milder than before due to her deteriorating mental health (if there was anything left of it to begin with). She's a lot calmer when handling situations and seeming more calculated than before, but that certainly doesn't quell the extreme abandonment issues in her at any rate. If anything, they've become much worse than before. This means that she'll cling to you and snap at anyone who nears you. No one is allowed to steal your attention away from her. No one can take you away from her. She just won't allow it when you're all she has left.

And so, she won't hesitate to use her gun on anyone who is pestering you. A death threat or two usually gets the point across anyway. Jinx will also let you handle yourself first, however though, knowing you can easily do that. But if things do get out of hand, she will step right to scare them away at best. She'd never kill anyone infront of you after all. She doesn't want to scare you away.

You'll have to reassure her of your loyalty a lot afterward, however, as her insecurities and issues can make her spiral fairly easily. Giving her a lot of attention and love makes everything go away, though, luckily.

》SEVIKA

She's very secure in your relationship and trusts you perfectly fine, which is why she rarely ever gets jealous. Why should she, anyway, when you'll always come back to her at the end of the day? Besides, people in the lanes know who you are and who you belong to, and most importantly, what will happen to their faces once she bashes them in if they ever harass you too much.

With that said, though, she typically lets you do your own thing and chase the person away yourself first before bothering to step in. If things get out of hand, then she'll suddenly be right behind you and tower over whoever it is that's not getting the hint. Blowing smoke right into their faces, she'll ask them if they have a problem, and if yes, then they should take it up with her outside. Although everyone knows she's the only one back afterwards. This usually does the trick.

Don't expect her to ever say that she is jealous, though, and hopes you know better, too. She knows you're loyal, as she certainly is for life and therefore doesn't worry about a thing regarding the strength of your relationship.

No one is better than her anyway.

[hannieehaee]

BOY WITH LUV

18+ / mdi

summary: a new job as a barista should be easy enough, right? except it gets a whole lot more complicated when the coffee shop's most loved client just decides he has to have you OR richboy!jk falls for barista!reader and refuses to give up.

content: richboy!jk, downbad!jk, barista!reader, sub-ish!jk, reader plays hard to get just for plot purposes, jk is down horribly bad for reader, afab reader, smut, dry humping, jk's the embodiment of needy, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.8k

a/n: another silly and unserious jungkook fanfic<3

masterlist | patreon

"Anyways just be careful with how many pumps you add to drinks. Customers can be extremely sensitive about that kind of stuff. Trust me," rambled on your new trainer, Jen? Jess? Something like that.

You watched disinterested, already having had a menial barista job in the past and being well aware of the high expectations of disgruntled customers. You, too, had been verbally harassed by one too many people in dire need of a drink far too specific for the average person to memorize. It was still appreciated, though, the effort she took in walking you through every step to ensure you did good at your new position.

Despite your focus on the task being demonstrated to you not being at its best, you did take notice when Jean(?) stopped her mentoring and instead spilled some of the drink she was currently making, clearly now equally as distracted as you. Her focus was no longer on the counter you were practicing drinks on, but instead looking past you and towards the counter a few steps behind you.

You meant to call out her name to question her, but without an angle on her name tag or any confidence in actually remembering the correct name, you simply grabbed at a nearby towel and cleaned off the mess, not bothering to look at whatever was distracting her. It was too early for you to bother.

Snapping out of her trance mere seconds later, she tapped at your shoulder urgently, her voice now a whisper as she leaned close for you to hear what she was about to say.

"Oh my God, don't look, but that's Jungkook," she whispered excitedly, as if letting you in on information you had any context about — hint: you had no idea who nor what she was referring to.

Turning around, you eyed another one of your new coworkers tending to the line at the counter, but more specifically helping out some guy. Focusing your eyes on him, you could now understand why his presence had caused a short-circuit in Jane (?) and why she felt the need to announce his presence to you.

The distraction in question presented itself in the form of a very tall and fit guy, one with a fully tattooed sleeve and dreamy black curls. Other outstanding attributes were the very obvious muscles encompassing his entire body and the shine that came from the various piercings on his face. In short, the man was nothing short of a dream straight from a Pinterest board — and the charisma radiating from his mere presence did not help matters.

"He's a regular. No one really knows much about him other than he's rich. He tips like 200% above his total," continued June, still leaning in your direction to whisper.

You felt bad at how obvious you were whilst staring at the boy, but he was likely the prettiest one you'd seen in a while. The blank expression in your stare did not tell on you, but it did not deny the fact that you were staring.

"We take turns serving him," your coworker informed you, "Sometimes we fight over it. He's a natural flirt, but he does it with everyone, so we're not sure if he's taken or not," she proceeded to tell you benign details about him that had you nodding along as you continued to stare at him.

The usually fast-paced place seemed to slow down when he entered the coffee shop, with most baristas' attentions going to him rather than their jobs. If he was aware of it, he was good at ignoring it, instead giving a flashy smile to the lucky barista currently tending to him. From the short distance between you, you were unable to hear his conversation, but you still had a perfect view of him as he simply existed. He could easily see you, as there was nothing in his way, but he hadn't yet, somehow oblivious to the attention he was receiving from all other baristas in the house.

As time stood still for everyone else, it continued normally for him. He paid for his drink, having it quickly bypass all other prior orders and made immediately by one of the many girls fawning at him. God, even the two baristas working the drive-thru had taken a short break from it go gawk.

It wasn't until moments later that Jungkook seemed to get a taste of his own medicine, with his own time suddenly coming to a halt. As he turned around to leave, sweet drink now in hand, his eyes incidentally met yours, causing him to pause mid turn and do a double take in order to catch your eyes again.

It was ridiculous, really. Almost too identical to those moments you'd see in those dumb romcoms you used to enjoy as a teenager. Except this was actually happening. And it was happening to you. As all your new coworkers watched his every move with extreme attention.

His eyes widened a bit. It was something the naked eye might've missed, but not you (nor the other five girls watching). His head tilted a bit to the side — maybe in curiosity due to not having seen you there before (Joanne did mention he was a regular). A ghost of a smirk took over the natural smile that had been on his lips since arrival. And lastly, a nod was sent your way — a nod in acknowledgment to your presence, but also with a flirtatious hint to it. It was hard to describe. You simply had to be there.

You remained watching him with a poker face throughout. The same poker face you'd had since clocking in to work that morning. It wasn't that you were mean or not a people person, you simply hated work. You'd been told you had a bit of a resting bitch face and gave a mean impression to those who didn't know you, but that was beside the point. The pretty boy whose attention you'd caught had gotten lucky, though, as he at least received the ghost of a smile from you before he left.

The first thing to occur upon his departure was a squeal from your left. The perpetrator? Julie (or whatever her name was).

"Oh my god!," she let out, grabbing onto your shoulder so you'd face her, "Did you see that?"

"See what?", you asked, not 100% sure of what had just happened.

"He totally checked you out . He's never done that before. Maybe he likes you? God, don't let Lila find out, she's got a huge crush on him," she informed you, once again assuming you knew who the hell Lila was.

"Hah, I think he might've just been surprised to see a new face," you downplayed, "What were you explaining before he got here? The thing with the pumps and the-"

"He comes here every morning at 8 or so. How about you take his order tomorrow? Y'know, just to test my theory," she suggested, disregarding your question.

"Orders? It's my first day here. Isn't training like two weeks lon-"

"It's fine! I'll be shadowing you. You'll do great! Now let's get back to your training-"

"Jane! I need more change at drive thru!", called one of the drive thru girls, interrupting your conversation.

"Coming, Lila!", she responded, giving you a polite smile before handing you the shaker she had just been holding, "Just practice some drinks how I taught you. I'll be right back to show you how to work the register."

So her name was Jane. And that was Lila.

At least you learned something today.

The subject of Jungkook stayed for a while after he left.

As you got to know a few of your other coworkers during your shift, you came to learn more useless details about him. Useless due to the fact that none of your coworkers had ever actually had a real conversation with him. It appeared as if he was always in a rush any time he stopped by. This bit of knowledge made it even more scandalous among your coworkers that Jungkook had stopped to blatantly check you out before continuing with his busy day.

And so the next day, you were admittedly a bit nervous when they'd suddenly prepped you for cashier duties only one day on the job. You'd done this before, but it was always slightly nerve wracking working a new cash register system and dealing with an entirely different hurdle of customers. That and the fact that you knew all your coworkers were awaiting the moment in which Jungkook came back, only this time he'd get a one-on-one with you.

For one, you didn't believe the suspicion that he liked you.

It was impossible to assert that from the simple one-over he'd given you. But then again, you didn't know the guy as well as your coworkers claimed to.

It was at 8:17AM that the theory was finally tested, when a certain heartthrob walked through the glass doors with all the charismatic energy a person could possibly carry.

He looked as handsome as he did the day prior, especially because now you had a beeline view of him, simply waiting for his arrival on the other side of the counter. His hair was wavier today somehow, and he donned a tight short-sleeve that gave you the perfect view of a sleeve full of colorful tattoos — fuck. His jeans were loose but still gave you a nice view of his physique. It was easy to tell the man was ripped to hell, yet another probable reason as to why your coworkers were all in love with him. Chunky shoes and shiny piercings accessorized his outfit, bringing an edge of grunginess you typically enjoyed in guys.

All things considered, he seemed just like your type.

However, the concept of even crushing on a guy that had every other girl at his feet sounded far too exhausting. You were just not into the idea of chasing after a guy who had a line of women waiting for their turn (or just chasing any guy in general). Today you'd simply serve his drink to prove a point and put an end to any possibility of even a mere flirtation with Jungkook before it even began.

Somehow, he hadn't taken note of you until reaching the cash register, too distracted by his phone as he made what was likely a familiar path for him — he was a regular, after all.

When he reached you, finally putting his phone away, he reacted similarly to last time, doing a double take before letting his eyes land on you for a more permanent stay. His mouth opened and closed a few times, hands reaching up as if undecided on what to entertain themselves with and remaining awkwardly on the air. A gulp took over his voice before he shook his head slightly to clear his head.

"Hi," he began, "You're new."

"Hi, yeah. What can I get for you today?," you got straight to the point.

As flattering as his reaction to you was, a line would probably form any minute now, and you'd already been thrown to the wolves, so you needed to move things along. There's never any time to waste in customer service.

"Oh, uh, the other baristas know my usual — but, uh you're new, like you just said, so, it's uhm just an americano. Medium, please," he rambled, not smooth like you'd expected someone as handsome and put together to be.

Your chuckle couldn't be helped, but at least it wasn't the girlish giggle you truly felt like letting out in the presence of such a man, "Yeah, okay. That'll be $4.95. Anything else?"

He stared at you blankly for a few moments, two silent blinks trapping his large eyes before clearing his throat, causing you to look up from the cash register to give him a curious look, hoping that was enough of a silent indicator at him to speak up.

"Your number, maybe?"

Admittedly, this caught you off guard.

You were surprised at the swift shift in confidence in Jungkook. Literal moments ago he was stammering his way through a sentence, yet the second time you looked up from the cash register he began to sport a cocky smile, confidently leaning against the counter separating you.

"God, you're gorgeous," he then added, eyes moony as he stared at you. It was said with a clear lack of thoughts in his brain, though also with an air of confidence, almost as if he were stating an irrefutable fact.

"Uhm, thanks," you mumbled, taking the money he was currently handing you with an awkward smile, "Okay, got a $5," you recited the usual cashier dialogue as you dug into the register for his change, "Here's your change. Your drink will be ready in a few minutes."

He took it, eyes still glued to yours with a dreamy smile on his face. Tilting his head to the side, his smile widened, "So, no number?", he asked with a teasing tone.

"Sorry, not allowed to give it to customers," you lied, "What's your name? Need it for the order," you asked despite already knowing his name. Disclosing this information would've only made him more adamant in asking for your information.

"That's a lie. Most of your coworkers have slipped me their numbers before," he called you out nonchalantly before giving you his name without any further argument, "What's your name? You don't have a name tag on," he seemed very okay with continuing with the small talk as much as possible, ignoring how your eyes looked past him to eye the line that had began forming.

You sighed, noting how settled he was on his spot, with his arms now leaning comfortably on the counter. He was clearly not going to leave with at least something from you.

You gave him your name, adding reluctance to your tone, attempting to send a message of disinterest.

Lifting his hand, he reached to yours which was currently lying on top of the screen of the cash register, softly grabbing its limp form to offer you a handshake. You did not grasp his hand in yours in return, making the handshake one-sided.

"Very nice meeting you. You'll be seeing me very often, gorgeous," he winked, dropping a bill way too high for a $4.99 order into the small tips cup on the counter and finally walking away as suave as humanly possible.

Internally, you groaned, knowing this was going to be the topic of conversation as soon as you clocked out for your break.

As expected, a few of your coworkers squealed at you immediately after Jungkook's departure, rambling about how clear it was that he was into you. And yes, that much was obvious — especially considering the large $20 tip he'd left you for merely taking his order. It was difficult to not give into their encouragement to ask him out or to at least respond to his advancements next time.

Most of your coworkers expressed happiness for you, simply enjoying the sight of the pretty boy coming around on a daily basis, while one or two seemed to grow an immediate dislike for you upon his sudden interest in you. Regardless, you wished to steer clear of any emotions his crush on you could bring. All you wanted out of this job was to clock in and clock out and call it a day.

The next time you saw him was two days later when you were finally scheduled to work again. Once more, you found yourself at the cashier once again. Despite it being your first week, your trainer had decided that you seemed apt for the task after the test trial with Jungkook a few days prior, so cashier duties were now assigned to you.

You didn't mind this. It was a straight forward task and far more preferable to drive-thru or clean up duty. However, you couldn't lie in saying you weren't a little on edge at the thought of interacting with Jungkook again. So maybe you spent an extra five minutes this morning on your makeup, so what?

You spent most of your morning taking orders for the early risers that frequented the store. They were all pretty nice, likely too tired at such an early hour to trouble the baristas in charge of their morning dosage of caffeine.

"Hey, gorgeous," were the words that took you out of your thoughts, calling your attention to the boy you'd been subconsciously thinking about all morning.

"Hello, Jungkook. What can I help you with?", you readied yourself to enter his drink on the register.

"What, don't remember my order? Missed you the past few days, by the way. Where'd you go?", he pouted.

"Sorry, not good at memorizing customers' orders, you're going to have to remind me. And I was off this weekend," you were straight forward in your responses.

Similarly to last time, he leaned on the counter, diminishing the distance between you as much as possible before speaking again, a smirk still present on his face.

"That's no problem, gorgeous, I'll remind you every day. Any chance you're nearing your break any time soon?", he questioned with confidence, repeating his order afterwards for you to type into the system.

You sighed, interrupting your work to respond, "No, I-"

"Actually, yes!", interrupted a sudden third voice.

You turned your head to the side to look at the intruder. It was Jane, of course.

"She's been working all morning. She's due for her 15," she let out, pushing you away from the cash register to take your place, "I'll work your order for her," she insisted.

"Great," Jungkook smiled at you in triumph, "In that case, throw in some cake pops in for my new friend," he went to take out some cash, handing what was likely too much to Jane and insisting she keep the change.

Turning his eyes back for you, he nodded in his direction as a silent request that you round the counter and head over to his side. Jane somehow completed his order in artful speed and handed it over to you with a wink before nudging you to encourage you to go. With a slight scowl, you did as suggested, handing Jungkook his drink and cake pops before he gave one back for you.

He began walking over to an empty counter, leaning against it and inviting you to do the same. Very casually, he drank from his drink and took a bite from his cake pop as he offered the other one out to you, chuckling when you grabbed it with reluctance.

"C'mon don't act like I got you hostage."

"You kinda do. My break wasn't until another twenty minutes. This just means I'll have to stay another half an hour," you quipped, more contrarian than anything.

He liked this, it seemed, indicating his amusement with another chuckle. It was probably not usual for him be met with much resistance to his flirting. And it wasn't as if it didn't work on you (it did). You were just not very willing to focus on it over your job — as menial as it was.

"I'll cover your overtime, gorgeous, don't worry about that," he smirked, "What time does your shift end anyway?"

"Hah, wouldn't you like to know?", you laughed antagonistically, continuing to nab at the sweet treat he'd given you.

Taking a step forward, he got up in your personal space. It wasn't an intimate type of closeness, but rather a standoffish one. He was challenging your own defiance against his flirting.

"You are aware I'm flirting with you, right?"

"Very."

Another amused chuckle left him, "How many visits is it gonna take me for you to reciprocate?", he asked, "Fine, maybe being so forward after my second visit was a bit too much, but I'm willing to play the long game if you are."

You listened to him with the ghost of a pleased smile on your face. Fine, maybe he was attractive and likable too. You weren't about to shut him down so easily. Maybe the long game sounded good to you too.

Taking the rest of your cake pop into your mouth with one swoop, you gnawed at the leftover candy on the stick, sucking at it with a pop before eyeing him again and nodding at him.

"You're more than welcome to, Jungkook."

He nodded back, "Them I guess I'll be seeing you here tomorrow ..." he paused with a lift of his eyebrow, a silent question for your name and groaning when you continued to grin silently, "Come on! At least give me your name!"

The giggle left you before you could stop it, continuing to sound out your name to him as a sign of peace.

"Pretty name," he murmured to himself, "Same time tomorrow?", he asked before turning to leave.

"I'll be waiting."

In the following two weeks of working as many hours as possible at your new job, you were finally no longer in your training period. You were now considered as useful an employee as Jane and Lila, meaning you got your name tag and could now comfortably settle into your cashier position.

In these two weeks, you also saw Jungkook almost every day (sans those in which you were off).

It got to a point in which Jungkook would occasionally stop by a second time in the afternoon in search of a peek of you, usually proving unsuccessful, but still trying anyways.

As summer time ended, the mornings became more packed, meaning yours and Jungkook's encounters diminished in time due to the peak of clients in the mornings. Jungkook was not shy in expressing his disappointment at this, always giving you eyes to attempt to get you to stall on his orders so he could spend a little extra time at the counter with you, or even attempting to bribe you with tips so you'd give him your number (something which had almost worked a few times).

Now, an entire month into your job, it was safe to say that Jungkook's crush was more than mutual by this point (though it really always was).

Unfortunately, your back and forth was so limited that you were yet to really find out anything about the guy other than his first name. Apart from having a vague idea of his wealth, you didn't know any basic details such as his age, profession or even his last name.

To be fair, you had never attempted to learn more about him, but this was partially due to your belief that he must've just enjoyed your casual flirtation. Likely, he liked your hard-to-get personality and enjoyed attempting to break you down. He had never actually asked you out past that first time he invaded your break, after all.

Up until today, that is.

"Please let me steal you away for your break," were the first words the boy had spoken to you when he'd finally caught you at the cash register after days of missing you altogether, "Or! I can wait until you get off. I'm finally off work for a few days. Please don't make me beg. I will do it, but it won't be pretty for anyone."

You sighed, fake annoyed at the gigantic pout on his face, "You've seen me almost every other day," you started, only to be interrupted by him.

"But you're always busy! God, why do so many people need coffee anyways?"

"Ask yourself. You're a frequent client here."

"Yeah, but that's different! I don't even come here for the coffee anymore. It's too packed," he continued, peeking behind him for a moment to make sure he wasn't holding up a line.

"Really?", you decided to play with him, "Why do you come, then?"

He leaned in closer to the counter separating you, grin copying your own satisfied one, "You know, the least you could do is acknowledge my flirting. It'd be really mean if you didn't."

"Fine," you gave in, "I work a full day today, but my lunch is in twenty minutes. Now order before my manager scolds me for letting you loiter."

He scoffed, "All your coworkers love me, that could never happen. But fine. I'll have my usual," he conceded, "I'll be waiting for you over at a table outside. If you don't come, I'll become even more of a nuance," he threatened jokingly as you processed his order, taking his payment and handing him a receipt with a reluctant nod in agreement.

"Okay, leave!", you couldn't help but berate him as you handed him his drink — which, hard to admit, you knew by heart.

With another chuckle in your direction, he made a face at you and made his way out, making sure to leave a far too large tip before exiting.

The twenty minutes before your lunch were spent boringly to say the least. Not many customers were around at that time of day, so you spent most of your time lounging around the small bar and restocking any lids or cups you felt were low enough to be refurbished. Contrary to how you'd previously expressed yourself, you were actually looking forward to getting to hang with Jungkook.

He was fun, what could you say?

Just a few minutes before your lunch break actually began, a subtle knocking sound caught your attention, causing you to focus your view on one of the many windows in the shop. Looking in that direction, you caught a smiley Jungkook attempting to grab your attention, waving cutely when you finally noticed him.

"Are you done?", he mouthed through the window, hands making a 'come hither' motion to entice you into coming out, eyebrows lifted in anticipation.

It got increasingly difficult to hold back a smile any time Jungkook would do something unknowingly cute, but you still managed.

You looked at the clock hanging on the wall, noting you had two minutes until your break. Looking back and forth between the empty coffee shop and Jungkook fawning at you from the window, you made a decision. What were two minutes, anyways?

Shrugging, you gave him a small smile, you began heading outside after clocking out of your register, having to force back a giggle at how much bigger his own smile got at your reciprocation.

"Was that a smile I saw?", he grinned when you finally made it outside.

You rolled your eyes, though the ghost of a smile didn't leave you.

"Shut up. You got me for thirty minutes, don't waste it."

You walked side by side up until the table Jungkook had been sitting at, not taking a seat but standing next to it.

"Do I have permission to take you out?", he tried, biting his lip in hopeful anticipation.

Pretending to mull over it for a moment, you crossed your arms and pursed your lips, hmm'ing at the proposal.

"C'mon! You know I like you. All your coworkers know I like you. And, y'know what? I think you like me back- Okay, wait, don't give me that look. Fine, you at least tolerate me."

"And?"

"See! You didn't deny it. That's a step in the right direction. Let me take you out. Please? I'm not in this just for the chase, if that's what you're thinking," he practically pleaded, looking down at you with those gigantic eyes you were unsure if you were truly immune to.

"Then why me?", you asked, truly unsure.

"I don't know," he began, "Call it love at first sight, I guess? Do I need a reason to like you? There's too many. I like everything I've known about you," he finished with sincerity in his eyes.

But you couldn't really buy it so easily.

"Jungkook, you don't even know me."

"But I want to! That's the whole point of dating. C'mon, I won't get in the way of your job. I'll even take you out somewhere fancy. I know you like pastries, I always see you go for the sweet drinks rather than the coffees, and you always pair them with a cake pop. See? I know as much about you as you've allowed me to know," he braved it and stepped closer, grabbing onto your hand tentatively, "So, please?"

You huffed, looking down before looking back at him, attempting to force the endeared smile out of your face.

"Fine. You can take me out. But not right now. If you want to take me out, you have to wow me. A measly thirty minutes in my work apron is not enough."

He took a few moments to wipe the huge smile off his face before responding, clearing his throat before doing so.

"Completely valid. Give me your number so you can text me your address and any time you'll be free for me to wow you," he handed you his phone, taking yours in exchange.

"Really? Any time?", you asked as you absentmindedly added your contact info to his phone, "Don't you have a job or something?"

"Huh, now who's the one who wants to get to know me?", he smirked lightheartedly, "That's for you to find out at our date," he went to hand your phone back, "Now, if I'm not mistaken, I still have an allotted seventeen minutes to spend with you."

In usual Jungkook fashion, he insisted on buying you something to eat from your own establishment, huffing at any suggestion for you to use your employee benefits and leaving a large tip as per usual. Whatever was his job, it must've left him more than satisfied. It made you curious, though his personality was even more intriguing. Against how you may have presented your lack of enthusiasm, you were quite excited for your upcoming date.

The next time you saw Jungkook, you got a very clear idea of what his job must be. Or at least of which tax bracket he sat comfortably at.

You weren't sure what model of car sat in front of your apartment at this moment, but you were sure it was worth beyond the money you'd see in this lifetime. There was also no doubt it belonged to Jungkook. The personalized JK1997 license plate was good enough indicator of its owner.

After giving Jungkook your number, you became victim to a myriad of messages from him from that moment on. Not only did he make plans for your date, but he also took advantage of how easily reachable you had become and chose to display his affection for you in the form of endless messages.

You couldn't lie to yourself, it was fun to have a guy so deeply interested despite your constant indifference towards him, specially if it was a guy that looked like Jungkook.

His messages varied from flirtatious to friendly to downright thirsty — there had been an instance of him sending you a picture of him at the gym, one which you shamelessly saved to your camera roll. You'd tease him about sending pictures back, but the most you ever gave him were selfies (to which he responded with threads of heart eyes).

Your date had been planned almost immediately. Jungkook, claiming himself a romantic, insisted on not telling you his plans, but did recommend you wear a pretty dress and some cute heels. He ached to see you all dolled up for him (his exact words).

Part of you wanted to be a brat (as he seemed to enjoy) and deny him of this pleasure. But a bigger part of you as tired of rejecting him and wanted to break him in different ways. And so you dressed up. You pulled out the dress you thought would wear him down the quickest, dolling yourself up to the best of your abilities and even donning the cutest pair of heels you could find.

The fruits of your labor manifested themselves in the form of a practically drooling Jungkook standing in front of your apartment door, stammering a greeting to you as his eyes went up and down your body multiple times, taking various stops at the parts he likely deemed his favorites.

He led you downstairs by your hand, groaning out loud at your perfume as he complimented it, claiming you must've wanted him dead before he even got to take you on your date. Maybe he was half right about that.

Once downstairs, he played dumb when you gaped at his expensive car, simply claiming that you deserved nothing but the best and opening the passenger door to you with a kiss to the pack of your hand.

His hand remained on your thigh the entire way over, nimble fingers occasionally tracing t the skin or sometimes even squeezing at the plushiness of it. You smiled in satisfaction at how blatant he was about wanting you. He'd always been loud and proud about it, but the reactions he was giving you tonight inflated your ego tenfold.

The restaurant was, once again, another demonstration of his wealth. This time you scoffed at any other suggestion to him being rich, to which he simply chuckled as he allowed the host to lead you over to your seats — some which he'd introduced as the best in the house.

"Are you going to tell me what you do for a living or should I start speculating?", you asked after a few sips of wine.

"What are your thoughts?", he decided to entertain you.

"You're in the mafia, maybe? Or a nepo baby? One of your parents married into wealth? You don't seem the lottery type. You look like you're very well accustomed to being rich," you began speculating, enjoying his amusement at you.

"All very fine guesses, but no. Gonna have to try harder."

"Can I bribe you into telling me?", there was a suggestive tilt to your tone.

"Please bribe me."

You giggled. You enjoyed how open he was about liking you. It was extremely refreshing. It was hard to remember now why you'd ignored his advances for months.

"Tell me," you whined.

"It's nothing exciting. I'm afraid you'll be bored by it," he clicked his tongue.

Maybe you should flip the script and show him your own interest?

Before you could decide, your body took control of its own, with your leg beginning to drag up and down his own under the table in a slow and seductive fashion. He instantly hiccuped at his drink when he felt the touch.

"Tell me?", you asked again, but your tone was far more convincing this time. You let the strap of your dress fall to the side, giving him a sneak peak at the strap hidden underneath it; the first hint at the pretty set you'd thrown on for later.

"A-ah, I'm just a video editor and producer. Nothing too exciting," he managed to not stutter too much as he felt your touch and allowed his eyes to zero in on the tiny sliver of bra.

"Oooh, sexy."

"Well, not as sexy as being a barista," he joked back through a stutter.

"Is that why you're always at the cafe? You're rich enough to not work a menial job like the rest of us peasants," you leaned towards the table a bit, foot continuing to tease at his leg.

"I'd say the pretty barista there is the bigger reason- Baby, you gotta stop doing that," he interrupted himself.

"What, I can't flirt with you? How's that fair?"

"You have the upper hand here. It's not fair!" he almost whined.

"Trust me, I could be doing much worse," you threatened with a smirk, "Don't make me sit next to you. I'll be even meaner up close."

He gaped at you for a few moments before readjusting himself on his seat, eyes trailing to your chest for a brief moment before attempting to refocus.

"Baby, did you enjoy your meal?", he suddenly switched the subject, sitting up straight now.

"We just got here," you tilted your head in confusion.

"Yeah, but, uh, I think I might've left my stove on. Come back home with me to check?"

Oh.

Well, that was fun enough for you.

But you could make it funner.

"But I wanted dessert," you pouted as you let your foot find higher heights on his legs.

"What I want isn't on the menu," he played along with a matching pout.

"Will you treat me to something good if I say yes?"

"I'll give you anything you want," he gave up on the double entendres, tone exasperated as he visibly itched to get up from his seat.

"Fine," you feigned disinterest, slowly getting up from your seat only to be rushed by Jungkook who had suddenly made his way over to your side of the table, ushering you out of your seat.

He scrambled through his wallet to grab a stack of cash, gesturing at the waiter to let him know it covered the bill and that he could keep any extra as a tip. You giggled as he dragged you away, not at all subtle in what his goal was. Even his grip on your wrist as he dragged you away was clear on its intent.

"Well, that was a shitty date," you deadpanned back in the car.

"You're the one who ruined it by playing footsie with me!", he rasped, attempting to focus on the road while you sat pretty beside him with an unspoken promise of sex as soon as you reached your destination.

You were happy to not be the one driving.

"But you said you'll treat me once we take care of your oven, right, Kookie?" you teased with a hand beginning to draw patterns on his leg, causing him to flinch with a whine.

"D-don't touch me! I will crash and I need you intact for I wanna do to you," he grumbled.

You laughed again, surrendering for the rest of the ride.

The next time you spoke was when Jungkook began pulling into a building that looked a few tax brackets above your own. It oozed luxury, being so high up that you could not see the end of it from the car window.

"A producer, huh? Dude, you're loaded. You could probably buy out the entire franchise of the cafe I work at," you marveled as you took in the expensive-looking parking lot you were pulling into.

"Can I? Will that get you to stop working and pay attention to me?," he pouted.

The sight gave you some cognitive dissonance. On one hand, you had an extremely attractive Jungkook donning what was likely an insanely expensive suit whilst maneuvering the car with only one hand. Meanwhile, you also had a needy boy pouting at you for your attention.

But you decided to play into the latter. The control he gave you was just too enjoyable.

"Needy," you teased.

"You have no idea."

And those were hid last words before he finally parked the car, rushing to get out and round it in order to help you out of your seat. It was embarrassing, really, the urgency in which he ushered you towards the lobby, practically dragging you all the way to the elevator before pressing a button far too high for the ride to be a short one.

Which was why you chose to take advantage of tour solitary surroundings whilst in that small ascending box.

Jungkook should've seen it coming, really. You hadn't been shy about being a tease back at the restaurant, nor had you really restrained yourself while in his car. It should've been obvious to him that you'd try and pull something whilst on the elevator too, right?

Wrong. Or well, at least if his whimper of surprise had been any indicator of his cluelessness.

The most sensible thing to do (in your horny opinion, at least) at that moment had been to corner him and catch him in a heated kiss. Apart from his initial surprise, it seemed like this was the right step to take, seeing as he fed into it immediately.

His hands were just as needy as his person, gluing themselves to your body and refusing to leave it for even a second. Every curve was felt and squeezed at as his tongue infiltrated your mouth. But his needy hands weren't even the best thing about him.

Your favorite thing was how shameless he was when it came to his sounds. If a mere kiss had him whimpering against you, you were ecstatic to know what second base would make him sound like.

Pulling at his hair, you pulled him away from you just so you could take a look at his dazed eyes (which were very adamantly glued to your lips). The sight was too pretty to ignore. But this lasted mere seconds before the poor boy drew you into another kiss, humming when you kissed back with the same amount of fervor.

Needy hands landed on your hips, long fingers digging into the plush and pushing them against his own. His hardness was already proudly present and dragging itself against whichever part of your body was closest. Pants were released right into your lips and suffocated against your tongue. No words were exchanged, as the sounds of clothes ruffling and tongues meeting were already loud enough.

Sadly, the beautiful art of dry humping had to be put to a stop when the elevator dinged, indicating you'd reached your destination.

True to his character, Jungkook whined again, immediately setting course for his apartment as he dragged you by the hand once again. You found your destination quite quickly as Jungkook fumbled to let the two of you in, practically pushing you in before closing the door behind him.

"Fuck, I want you so bad," he spoke for the first time as he pressed your lips together once more.

Blindly guiding you through his expansive apartment, he somehow managed to only bump twice before making it to his bed. Sadly, you were unable to take in your surroundings due to Jungkook's insistence in keeping your lips locked, but who were you to complain?

Landing on his bed, Jungkook remained standing, beginning to throw off his blazer and unbutton his shirt as you leaned back in a sitting position, legs spread to allow him to stand between them. You enjoyed the show, not even attempting to get yourself into any state of undress.

"Stop staring at me like that. You're making me nervous," he whined when he found himself finally shirtless, squinting at you as you quite literally ate him with your eyes.

You knew he'd be the prettiest sight from the moment you first spotted him, but he looked even better than you could've possibly imagined. He was clearly sculpted, but you didn't realize it'd be to this extent. Carrying a lean figure, every inch of his body still managed to contain toned muscle. The tattoo sleeve also did not help manners.

You ignored his whining, continuing to stare.

"Come up wrap me," you lifted your hands childishly as if to invite him to undress you, which he accepted happily.

Chuckling at your demeanor, his hands reached out to you, helping you stand up before blindly unzipping your dress and letting it fall down to reveal the other pretty garments you'd chosen to wear for him.

"Oh, you hate me," he mumbled upon a single view of what was hiding below your dress.

Pressing his forehead to your shoulder, he groaned, hands hanging by your sided as he appeared to apprehensive to touch you, not really knowing where to start.

"You haven't even looked at it yet!", you pouted, "I got it just for you. And it was expensive — maybe not by your standards, but," you shrugged.

His nose trailed its way to your neck by then, breathing you in and continuing to groan at the peak of lingerie he'd just gotten. There was no way he had gotten a good look from his proximity, but knowing that the mere suggestion of you dressing up for him already had him frustrated.

"I'll buy you a wardrobe full of them," he huffed whilst his hands felt you up, fingers lightly scratching at the lace barely covering your hips and breasts.

"If I rip it, will you be mad?", he asked after getting his fill of you. Your neck was practically wet with his saliva by then.

"Well, you did say you were gonna buy me more, so,"

Your statement was followed by a ripping sound coming from down south, your lower half now fully nude as you gasped.

"Jungkook!"

"Oh, these rip easily. That's good. I like these," he muttered, unhooking your bra before beginning to kiss his way to your breasts.

"K-kook, fuck."

His lips caught onto one of your breasts, tongue teasingly rounding the hardened bud in the middle before nipping lightly at it. A huff of air was released against your skin as he sighed in what you believed to be contentment.

"You're so pretty," he sounded pained as he said it.

He continued kissing at your breasts and feeling at your body for a few moments before laying you back on the bed, hands aiding you in scooting towards its middle so he could hover above you comfortably. His hands didn't leave you once, latched onto some part of your body at all times.

Trailing down with wet kisses, his lips acted as a magnet against your skin, finding their way to your middle slowly but desperately. Immediately once there, he nuzzled his nose into your bundle of nerves, sighing against it before letting his tongue get a taste.

"I- fuck, Kook," you sighed when you received a wide lick to your folds, followed by precise movements of his tongue.

Jungkook's proclivity towards oral became obvious quite quickly. It was as if he was trying to replace all the wetness seeping out of you with his own saliva. It sounded disgusting in theory, but felt far too good in practice.

"Hmm, fuck. Baby, I need to be able to breathe," he chuckled breathlessly when your thighs began squeezing around his head a little too harshly.

"It's your fault," was all you mumbled before whining at him to continue.

Unable to deny you anything, he kept going, tongue pointed as it poked and licked at your swollen pearl while his ring and middle finger slowly inserted themselves inside, doing a 'come hither' motion and gracing against your walls to perfection. The constant rumble of his groans against you did not really help matters either.

"You're too fucking good at this, shit," you groaned when he held you impossibly closer, nose rubbing against your clit as he licked at your hole maniacally.

"Just, fuck, it's so warn n pretty," mumbled the drunken man.

It made you pulse the way in which he described your cunt. Pretty had never been a word you'd considered, but who were you to oppose his expert opinion?

Far too soon, you felt your orgasm approach. All your senses were heightened. The smell of sweat, the feeling of his tongue against you, the sound of his grumbles of self-serving pleasure; you were done for.

When you came, it didn't come to you as a surprise when Jungkook refused to create any distance between you. His head remained buried between your legs, tongue lapping at you despite your body begging at him to stop. The sensitivity was high, but the pleasure was ever so present, you didn't have it in you to actually make him stop. Your hands dug into his hair even harder than before, though they were indecisive as to whether to pull him closer or away from you.

"God, fuck. I've been wanting to do that since I met you," he groaned out once he resurfaced.

He climbed beck up your limp and ruined body, kissing his way to your lips before nastily shoving his tongue in your mouth. Not bothering to ask whether or not you'd want to taste yourself, he took a wild guess and asserted you'd be enthusiastic in your reciprocation — which you clearly were, practically reaching down his throat with your own tongue.

Naturally, your bodies melded with one another as you kissed. Both pairs of hips became needy as they ground against each other. Bumping bellies, you ensured Jungkook remained trapping against you as you wrapped your legs around his nonexistent waist. He chuckled at this for half a second before continuing to devour your lips with his own, hips even more desperate than before.

"Wanna- fuck, wanna cum like this, but ... God, need to be inside you," he grunted out his predicament.

Pity.

Maybe you'd rebirth the lost art of dry humping some other day. It'd be far more fun to make Jungkook cum in his pants, after all. Why waste a perfectly naked Jungkook with some dry humping when he was already in a full state of undress?

"What are you waiting for?", you nudged him with your foot, opening your legs further to demonstrate your want for him.

"You're mean," he huffed as he kissed you before pulling himself away to scramble through his end table for a condom.

In an uncharacteristically non suave manner, Jungkook ripped the condom open with his mouth, peeling it over his hardness with an urgency that showed you just how needy he was. This caused you to giggle at the sight.

"You laugh now, but I'm about to fuck you into this bed," he grunted as he absentmindedly rewrapped your legs around his waist, ensuring you locked them behind his back so he could grab onto his cock and begin lining himself up.

"Fuck, baby, do you see that? So puffy and needy," he mocked, tip running up and down your folds, catching your clit long enough to make you gasp.

"Stop it. I'm the only one allowed to be mean," you complained, legs pulling him forward.

"Right," he chuckled, "What I'm about to do to you feels really mean, though."

"Jungkook, I swear to- F-fuck!"

"God, so fucking tight," he mumbled under his breath, "Feels even better than I imagined."

You panted for a few moments as you adjusted yourself to the huge intrusion, eyes faltering a bit.

"Thought about this a lot?"

"Every night, baby," he groaned when you gave him the green light to start moving.

With this, he began grinding into you with an intensity that showed you he'd been telling the truth. Despite how much of a mess he'd been throughout your date, his suave and confident persona was ever so present whilst fucking into you.

There seemed to be no thoughts in his mind that did not revolve around your pleasure. His pace was mind-numbing yet sensual, his fingers circled at your clit with the perfect precision, his lips never ceased in their smacking against your skin. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was trying to ruin you for any other man (hint: he was).

"Feels good, baby?," he grunted between thrusts, breathless and almost unable to form a sentence.

"K-kook-"

You were unable to formulate words, and he knew as much. Or at least that's what you got from the smirk pressed up against your cheek as he trailed back up to your lips.

"You're going to cum with me, right, pretty? Hmm?", his nose nudged your own, lips leaving teasing kisses against yours, "It'll feel so good, gorgeous, okay? I'm, fuck, I'm almost there."

"Kook, I'm c-cumming, sh-shit! Fuck!", you wailed when it finally hit you, having no time to feel embarrassed at how quickly it came. It had all been too much, but you were pretty sure Jungkook knew that.

He followed you into the abyss with a groan and a small bite down the skin of your shoulder. He hummed against the skin, getting it damp with saliva, but you didn't care. The heat from his body as he pressed you down onto his sheets created a damp sheen of sweat between you. It was all very humid and nasty, but the knowledge that Jungkook was currently creaming into a condom whilst buried inside you, mind lost as his sounds filled the room, was more than satisfactory to you.

"Fuck," he groaned once he slumped himself next to you.

He lazily slipped off the condom, throwing it at a trash can laid near his bed before nuzzling his body against your limp one. You had made no move since your orgasm, simply taking in the pleasure that had just invaded you mere minutes ago.

"You're dangerous for a barista."

"You knew this the moment you saw me. That's what you liked about me."

He hummed happily, "You should actually be mean to me next time. It'd be hot."

"Masochist," you laughed.

"Guilty."

"All the girls are gonna hate me when they realize I toon you off the market," you whined as you flipped yourself to your side, scooting closer to him and practically burying yourself in his skin.

"But you love that, don't you?", he chuckled.

You giggled back.

"Guilty."

to read short 2k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: more cafe shenanigans with reader and her coworkers, jungkook still being down bad, smut, afab reader, tit fucking, face riding, mentions of sexting, etc.

wc: 351 (teaser); 2k (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"What the hell are you doing here with those?"

"Is that how you welcome your boyfriend?"

Those were his last words before you rushed to round the counter and get him out of earshot, dragging him by the arm towards the exit. On his other arm, he held tightly onto the ridiculously large bouquet of flowers he'd entered the facility with mere moments ago.

"Woah, what's with the aggression?", he scoffed in jest when you finally made it far enough from your coworkers' eyes.

"Dude, I already told you Lila's been on my ass since she found out we're dating. You have got to stop bringing gifts to my workplace," you groaned, though still taking the flowers from him and giving him a peck as a form of thanks.

There had been a few instances already in which Jungkook had been far too loud and proud about your relationship whilst visiting you at your workplace. It always led to thin-veiled animosity between you and your coworkers.

"So? Who cares about Loraine, or whatever her name is?", he shrugged.

"I do! And it's not just her. They're all in love with you. And most of them keep giving me the cold shoulder because of you! Lila's just the worst of them."

He pouted and coo'd, chuckling when you complained at him for patronizing you. His arms wrapped around you, still chuckling in amusement at your predicament.

"Well, you won. You have me," he hummed in satisfaction.

"Pfft. As if I chased after you," you scoffed.

"Is that a challenge? I'm not afraid to go back in there and confess my love for you."

"Jungkook. No!"

"I won't. Just because," he stopped to check his watch, "it's 2:02pm, which means you get to clock out and I get to take you home. So get your pretty ass back in there so I can get my girlfriend in bed."

"It's two in the afternoon."

"I said what I said," he gave you one last squeeze before grabbing onto your hand and leading you towards the cafe you'd just technically kicked him out of.

...

find the continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends? — Part Three

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel’s attempts at an apology fall short, Cassian’s advice backfires, and confrontations force both you and Azriel to face uncomfortable truths—though not the same ones.

Warnings: angst. a heavy grudge, a male incapable of owning up to his mistakes, a well-meaning but wrong-steering best friend, verbal fighting, physical fighting, brief mentions of blood

Word Count: 8.5k

this was going to be two parts but... for the drama, ive decided to offer a feast and not just a meal

Part Two | Part Four

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel hadn’t meant to let it sit for this long. 

His shadows had been needling him for days, hissing reminders at the edge of his mind: Fix this. He intended to. He just didn’t know how. There were too many eyes on him now, too many people that expected his great, grand apology. 

It was hard to focus on anything else.  Even when he was with Selene, her words barely touched him. His mind was consumed by the unease that gnawed at him, the constant pull of you, somewhere, still angry over what had happened.

Azriel wanted to ask Selene about her words. Why they’d taken root in his mind, why he’d echoed them back to you. But he didn’t. He let Selene talk, smiled when she asked for his opinion, and tried to let the softness of her lips on his drown out the unease.

He didn’t know exactly why it felt so much harder with you— felt harder to argue, felt even harder to apologize. Everything else in his life, every delicate situation, every broken, jagged thing, he could attempt to handle with steady hands. But you—every time he stepped near you lately, it felt like stepping onto unstable ground. One wrong move, and everything shifted beneath him.

His shadows had made sure to remind him, trailing after you through the house, feeding him fragments of your clipped words to Mor, the slam of a cabinet door when you thought no one was paying attention. They weren’t even subtle about it anymore, curling around his ears like smoke, whispering your whereabouts.

He’d tried small things—leaving you treats, a smoothie for breakfast, or a croissant on a plate with your name carefully written on a napkin. But every time he returned to check, they were untouched. Once, he found the croissant flattened and crumpled, as if you’d squeezed it with a tight fist before tossing it back onto the plate. His shadows confirmed you were angry that night, their murmurs suggesting no coincidence in your evening spent with Mor.

Since then, every instinct told him to stay away and retreat, to wait until he’d figured out the right thing to say instead of stumbling through this mess. But waiting had gotten him here, hadn’t it? And now he was scrambling to undo weeks of silence. He thought, maybe, he should have something written out. Something properly planned, so that he knew what he wanted to tell you. But every time he thought about what to say, his mind came up blank. After hours of failure, he’d convinced himself that, with you, it would come naturally. It always had.

Or, at least, that’s what he kept repeating as he made his way downstairs, finding you in the kitchen.

You didn’t look up right away, but you knew he was there. 

“Are you sure you want to be in here without a chaperone?” you said, slicing into an apple slowly. “What if something happens?”

Shadows swirled around his shoulders. Angry, they whispered. As if he didn’t already know.

“Stop,” Azriel said. “Can we just... stop with the comments. Please.”

“Why?” You said, finally tossing a glance his way. “Is it bothering you?”

The look on your face was nothing like he expected. It wasn’t just anger. It was exhaustion, too. He didn’t like it, the way the shadows under your eyes and the stiffness in your shoulders spoke louder than anything you’d said to him in days. Didn’t like that he’d probably been the one to put that exhaustion there.

“Yes,” Azriel finally responded. “It is bothering me.”

You let out a laugh, something low and humorless, and it twisted in his chest. Should he  apologize for making you lose sleep, too? He’d already failed at the rest of it—what was one more thing to add to the pile?

Azriel cleared his throat. “Can we talk?”

“Now you want to talk?”

His fists clenched at his sides. The familiar burn of frustration, the heat of guilt, rose up his throat.  “How was I supposed to talk to you before when you’d just ignore me or say something snarky and leave?”

You stilled at his words and Azriel was almost tempted to embrace the small flicker of relief he felt. He should have apologized sooner, yes, but you had been avoiding him fervently. He convinced himself he wouldn’t have been able to apologize before now, anyways. 

“Okay,” you said, setting the knife down and leaning against the counter. “Well, I’m here now. So what do you want to say?”

Azriel’s eyes flicked to the knife instinctively. It was far enough from your hand that he probably didn’t need to worry. Probably. Not that he thought you’d do anything—though there was that one time Cassian had nearly stabbed him with a butter knife. He’d been significantly less angry than you were now. The memory did nothing to ease Azriel’s nerves. He pushed the image away.

This was it—his chance to fix things. To say all the things he’d been rehearsing in his head. But the words didn’t come. Instead, he found himself saying, “How was the meeting with Keir?”

The second the words left his mouth, he wanted to grab them out of the air and shove them back down his throat.  He could see it in the way your expression shifted—something sharp and disbelieving cutting across your face. Azriel didn’t need his shadows to tell him he’d screwed up again. The words had barely landed, and already he was bracing for the fallout.

“That’s what you wanted to talk about?”

Azriel froze. His shadows curled tighter around him. Stupid, stupid. He swallowed, desperately trying to correct it. There was no going back. “Rhys said I should expect some tension at the next meeting. I wanted the full picture.”

“The full picture?” You repeated darkly.  “Well the full picture wasn’t great, Azriel. Because you weren’t there. And because I was pissed—because of you.”

Azriel nodded, swallowing hard. Idiot. “Right. I shouldn’t have asked that. I should’ve—” He stopped himself. No, he couldn’t fix that now. He needed to focus on what mattered.

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally, the words leaving his mouth like rocks tumbling down a hill. He hated the way it sounded—weak, like he didn’t mean it. But he did. He just didn’t know how to make you believe it. Azriel continued, the apology already unraveling in his head. “For how you feel.”

“Oh,” you said softly, but there was a thick sarcasm in your voice. “You’re sorry for how I feel?”

Azriel rushed to correct himself. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean?” You shook your head, letting out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Do you even know what you’re trying to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are you sorry for?”

Azriel cursed himself for the hundredth time. Why was this so hard?

Because it was you, he heard his own voice reply, because he couldn’t bear the thought of failing you again. He knew he was failing—knew it in the sharp edge of your voice and the way your eyes narrowed every time he opened his mouth. And still, the right thing to say stayed maddeningly out of reach.

“I’m sorry that your feelings got hurt.”

His shadows slowly loosened, trailing down his body like they didn’t want to be associated with him anymore. He didn’t blame them. You blinked slowly at him, that look of exhaustion softening your features.

“That’s not an apology, Azriel. That’s—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “You know what? Nevermind.”

Azriel was transported back to the night of the fight, remembering how you’d said similar words then, too. He tried to salvage it again, but you were already moving, wiping the cutting board with a hurried motion. You didn’t notice as your apple, barely sliced, rolled off the counter’s edge. His shadows were there almost instantly, catching the fruit before it fell.

You reached out, and for a brief moment, your shoulders softened as you grabbed it from their hold.

“Where are you going?” Azriel asked. He wondered if his voice sounded as desperate as he felt. As frustrated.

“To train with Cassian,” you replied, still not looking at him. Your hand paused on the counter, and you glanced over your shoulder. “Do you think I should stop by Nesta first? Make sure she’s okay with me being around her mate? I wouldn’t want to ruin their relationship too.”

Azriel’s chest tightened. “Can we stop this?”

“No,” you replied swiftly, and Az could have sworn he heard a crack in your voice. 

And then the silence stretched. You ate the small slices of apple as you put things away, the quiet dragging on as he stood there, still unable to speak. Finally, you stopped and looked at him. He tried to offer a smile, something to soften the weight in the air. But you just frowned.

“Did you expect to wait this out? Wait until I got over it?”

Azriel shook his head, his voice low. “No. I never thought that. I just—”

“Just what?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You stared at him for a long moment, like you were seeing him for the first time, and the disappointment in your gaze made his chest feel tight. He should have been able to find the right words. But it didn’t matter anymore, not in this moment, not as you let out a small, bitter laugh, nodding as if something inside you had finally broken. 

“Always so afraid of saying the wrong thing that you never say the right one.”

Azriel opened his mouth, desperate to correct himself, to make it right, but the words just wouldn’t come. He had never considered that before—at least, not with you. He’d never thought he needed to say the right things, never cared enough to learn how.

“I never realized how much of an asshole you could be,” you said, with a final, almost dismissive glance. “I guess some females are into that.”

And then you were gone.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Training couldn’t have come at a better time.

You needed to hit something—needed to feel that release. Not in a petty, frustrated way, like slamming your fist into a wall, but in the desperate, raw way that left you aching. It was the only way to escape your frustration and, maybe, remind yourself that you were still you, despite how Azriel made you feel.

And for a while, it worked.

Cassian had spent centuries mastering the language of battle, the unspoken rhythm of war. He could read the tension in a stance, spot when someone's body didn’t follow through with the mind’s intentions. He didn’t get enough credit for it, you thought, his ability to read someone without words. He was looking at you now, with that critical eye, head tilted slightly, like he was waiting for you to crack. 

“Alright,” Cassian grunted as he parried another strike. “What’s on your mind?”

You ducked beneath his swing. “Nothing,” you said, deflecting the question with a swipe of your sword. Too fast, too aggressive.

Cassian dodged it easily, raising a brow. “Right. Because ‘nothing’ is exactly what makes you swing like you’re trying to decapitate me.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but you didn’t laugh. You weren’t in the mood for his teasing, no matter how good-natured it was.

“It’s nothing. Seriously.”

He rested the flat of his blade against his shoulder.  “Come on, spit it out before you take my head off for real. I’ll pester you all day.”

You sighed, pacing a few steps away. He’d wait. He definitely would. And there wasn’t much point in pretending anymore—he clearly knew you weren’t fine. Continuing to train like this was useless when your head was so unfocused. Avoiding the topic wasn’t helping either. At this point, everyone knew what was going on. Hell, they all seemed more bothered by it than Azriel.

Still, you’d been dodging these conversations. Talking about it felt...stupid. Saying it out loud would make it real—all the messy, painful feelings you’d been shoving down would be out there, staring back at you like some pitiful mirror. Your conversation with Azriel this morning had only made your bitterness stronger.

But Cassian was watching you, expecting, and it was nice, in a way. Having someone care this much. Maybe it would be easier to talk to him. Mor had helped, sure, but her comfort recently came in the form of dragging Azriel through the dirt. It didn’t actually solve anything.

"It’s this stupid thing with Az," you muttered finally. "I’m starting to feel like he doesn’t actually care about me." 

Cassian leaned on the hilt of his sword. “Well, that’s not true.”

You leveled him with a stare, your body tensing as a surge of frustration ran through you, hot and heavy. “It isn’t? He talked to me for the first time today and didn’t even apologize. Not properly. Just asked about Keir.”

Cassian’s expression softened. “He gets wrapped up in his own head about things. Probably just embarrassed, you know? Doesn’t know how to approach the situation.”

You’d run that possibility through your mind a hundred times. Mor had even said it herself. But it didn’t help with the ache, the anger. It was hard to believe your spymaster—so fearless, so eager to throw himself into the fire—was struggling to talk to a friend. Out of all the hard things Azriel had done, surely a simple apology wasn’t beyond him. You’d forgiven him for so much, had let things go because he was your friend. But you were tired of letting it go. He had the perfect opportunity to apologize, to properly acknowledge how he’d hurt you, and he hadn’t taken it.

“Embarrassed by what? Accusing his friend of something so absurd?”

Cassian tilted his head in subtle agreement, like he too thought the word absurd was right for the situation. “I think Az doesn’t want to be seen as...whatever he thinks people see him as. Like he’s incompetent in love. Or that he can’t handle his shit.” He rolled his shoulders, sighing. “He’s defensive. When he’s cornered, he reacts badly. It’s not about you, Y/n. You know that, right?”

You knew that. Of course you did. But it didn’t feel like a proper explanation this time. It didn’t feel like enough.

“But it feels like it is about me. He listened to her. He took her word, over mine." Your fists clenched involuntarily. "And the way he acted—like I wasn’t worth considering, like my opinion doesn’t matter. I’ve known him for centuries. She—" You paused, taking a breath, "She’s barely been in his life. And he immediately assumes that my care for him is because I just want something from him. That it’s some selfish, self-serving thing. His whole job is to see through lies, Cass. He didn’t even second-guess her.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t actually see it like that. He probably just reacted out of instinct. It’s Azriel, Y/n, he’s complicated. "

“Shit, Cass, way to play sides.”

Cassian sighed, stepping closer. “I’m not playing sides. I’m trying to help. Az makes stupid decisions. Half the time, I don’t think he even understands why. I don’t want you driving yourself crazy trying to figure it out. It’s not worth it.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” you snapped. “Just wait it out? Move on? That’s not happening.”

The words came out sharper than you intended, and guilt pricked at the edges of your conscience. This wasn’t Cassian’s fault—he didn’t have to ask, didn’t have to care. But lately, your anger over everything—over Az—felt like a thorn lodged so deeply under your skin that the irritation seeped into everything. You were struggling to control it.

It was a small blessing there weren’t any court matters to handle for the time being. Rhys was likely still preoccupied with Keir’s incessant whining about your last outburst.

Still, it felt like acid rising in your throat, a bitter burn you couldn’t swallow down, even as Cassian opened his mouth to respond. The words were spilling out of you before he could say anything.

“I’m not even mad about this one fight anymore,” you started, the grip on your sword slipping as your fingers unfurled. The blade clattered to the ground, the sound loud enough to make Cassian flinch. “It’s everything. All of it. He never apologizes for anything—have you noticed that? Like, ever. And I’ve let it slide because that’s just Azriel, right? Quiet, brooding Azriel, who’s somehow above—”

Cassian raised a palm out. “Alright, alright, stop,” he said. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy. It’s not worth it.”

You exhaled sharply, realizing you were halfway to a full-blown rant.

He stepped closer, giving you a knowing look. “Listen, you can’t force him to apologize properly. You just...can’t. You have to let him come to it on his own.”

Your teeth clenched. “I shouldn’t have to.”

Cassian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I agree. Believe me, I agree. But until he figures his shit out, maybe we focus on what you can change.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. What else is bothering you?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “It would be easier to list what isn’t bothering me right now.”

Cassian tilted his head again, considering. “Does it bother you that Selene sees you as competition?”

You blew a strand of hair out of your face. Did it bother you?

Azriel had believed her instantly—disregarded you with a swiftness that stung. He’d accused you of selfishness, of something you’d never been with him. But Selene’s opinion of you, the thoughts she’d planted in his mind, those bothered you too. You hadn’t realized it until now.

She didn’t know you.

And yet, her words had curled under your skin, sitting heavy and raw, making you ache in a quiet, tired way. Worse, they’d made you overthink every interaction with Azriel since. You’d spent so much of your life trying to be the diplomat, choosing empathy even when it sucked—when it drained you. You wanted to like Selene—gods, you wanted to like the people Azriel cared for, even when it felt impossible. But she hadn’t even given you the time of day.

“I don’t like that I’ve been vilified somehow,” you admitted with a frown. “I don’t want to feel like I’m fighting for his attention or validation. It’s not like that.”

Cassian gave a small, knowing smile. “I know it’s not.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not.” 

He paused, clearly mulling something over, then asked, “Do you want to hear what I think?”

You gave him a wary look. “I feel like you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“Correct,” he said, grinning. Then he sobered. “Az aside...I think Selene’s reaction makes sense.”

You blinked at him, incredulous. Was he serious right now? A sharp heat rose in your chest. “Okay, well, that’s clearly choosing sides—”

“Hear me out,” Cassian said quickly. “I mean, look at you, Y/n. I’d be jealous of you too if I were her. You’re beautiful, smart, someone Azriel deeply cares for. Hell, I’d probably be a mess.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “So, because I’m so wonderful, I’m responsible for her insecurities?” you asked dryly, arching a brow.

Cassian shook his head. “No. What I’m saying is that this might be the one aspect of the situation you can change. The one thing you have control over. Maybe talking to her would help. Clear the air.”

You mulled over his suggestion. Maybe he had a point. Maybe talking to Selene would help. Not just to ease the tension, but to give Azriel room to come to you—to clear the air between you both. If you did this—if you took the first step—maybe he’d finally take you seriously. Apologize for dismissing you so easily, so carelessly. You could find a way to move on, comfortably, with Selene in his life. Right?

It wasn’t like the situation could get any worse.

"Okay," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. "Yeah. Maybe I’ll talk to her."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian was waiting for Azriel as he stepped out of the townhome, his massive frame leaning against the railing. One glance at the general was enough to confirm it: Cassian wasn’t there to exchange pleasantries. No—Cassian stood with his arms crossed, his wings partially flared, exuding the barely-contained anger Azriel recognized all too well.

“We need to talk,” Cassian said.

Azriel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He tightened his fists, shadows curling around them instinctively, obscuring his hands from view. Not now. Not tonight. He had no energy for this—not for Cassian’s righteousness or whatever lecture he’d come prepared to deliver.

“I’m not in the mood, Cass,” he said flatly, brushing past him.

“Too bad.” Cassian stepped into his path, blocking him with ease. “I didn’t endure an hour of Mor yelling at me for you to decide you can’t have a conversation.”

Azriel paused, his brow furrowing. “Why was Mor yelling at you?”

Cassian crossed his arms. “Because of you.”

“Great,” Az muttered. “What have I done now?”

“I gave Y/n some advice that, in hindsight, wasn’t great. Mor made the situation a lot clearer for me. Now I’m here to make sure you clean up your mess before anyone else slips.”

The mention of your name made Azriel’s chest ache in a way that felt too raw. He’d told himself he wouldn’t think about you tonight—not your voice, not your expression when he’d spoken to you this morning. But here was Cassian, dragging it all to the surface like a wound being forced open.

“I don’t think this is any of your concern,” Azriel said coldly, stepping around Cassian in a last-ditch effort to leave.

Cassian didn’t budge, spinning on his heel and following. “It is my concern because you’re my friend. And Y/n is my friend.”

Azriel could feel his shadows tighten their hold, whispering, urging him to end this. He wasn’t sure if they meant the conversation with Cassian or the situation entirely. Azriel could only control one of those.

“Cass, leave it alone,” he said, his voice low, barely masking the warning there.

“No,” Cassian responded immediately. “You did something shitty and you need to own up to it, Az.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened. “Sometimes friends fight,” he ground out. “Sometimes we get on each other’s nerves, like you’re getting on mine now. It’ll settle.”

“This isn’t going to ‘settle.’” Cassian’s voice rose. “You didn’t just get on her nerves—you offended her.”

The words hit harder than Azriel had anticipated.

“Because the idea of having feelings for me is so offensive? Am I that repulsive?”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, the question jagged, biting. He hadn’t meant to say that. He wasn’t sure where it had come from. 

Cassian blinked, his anger giving way to confusion for a moment before his brow furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about? Don’t twist this into something it isn’t.”

Azriel’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of heat creeping up his neck. His outburst had come from nowhere, and now, Cassian’s eyes were full of confusion and something else—something close to pity. Azriel felt small under it, a flush of embarrassment prickling down his body. He wanted to look away, to escape.

He needed to leave.

Think later. Process later. Just get out of here.

Azriel squared his shoulders, forcing himself to meet Cassian’s gaze with as much indifference as he could muster. “Are you done now? Selene is waiting for me.”

Cassian stepped closer, his wings flaring in frustration. “Selene can deal with a few lost minutes of Azriel time. We’re talking.”

“No,” Azriel said, voice flat, his gaze turning icy. “You’re talking. I’m leaving.”

He moved to step past Cassian, but the larger male blocked him again.

“Is this some weird self-pity thing?” Cassian demanded, his tone growing sharper. “Thinking you’re not worth being forgiven so you don’t even try?”

Those words hit a nerve. 

Azriel’s anger sparked instantly, snapping through his ribs like a whip. He couldn’t decide if it was directed at Cassian or himself. But Cassian didn’t understand. None of them did.

“Cass, just let it go.”

“No,” Cassian shot back. “You always do this. You make decisions that are selfish. You push people away because you think it’s easier, and it’s not. It’s bullshit.”

It wasn’t easier—it was never easier. But what was Azriel supposed to say? That it was better than risking more damage? That every decision he made, no matter how distant or cold, was the only way he knew how to protect the people he cared about?

“Cassian—”

The slap came out of nowhere.

Azriel’s head snapped to the side, his shadows scattering in shock before reforming around him. Slowly, he turned back to Cassian, his eyes blazing.

“What the hell was that?”

“Sorry,” Cassian said flatly. “Must’ve been the wind.”

Azriel’s lip curled. He opened his mouth to respond, but a second slap landed, harder this time.

“Would you stop that?” Azriel growled, his wings flaring slightly, the shadows around him vibrating with his tone. “Don’t touch me.”

Cassian stepped closer. “Why?” he asked, mockingly. “This is what you deserve, right? If you’re so terrible.”

The third slap was the breaking point.

Azriel’s fist flew, connecting with Cassian’s jaw in a blur of movement. The force sent Cassian stumbling back a step, but he recovered quickly, his retaliation swift—a sharp uppercut to Azriel’s ribs.

They fought like brothers—wild, messy. Not about technique, but about something else. Azriel wasn’t sure why Cassian needed this release, but he could feel it—the desperate need behind every punch. And Azriel… Azriel didn’t realize it at first, but he needed it too.

He was an Illyrian, no matter how many times he tried to convince himself otherwise. Fighting cleared his mind. Whatever Cassian was trying to achieve, whatever he needed to prove, it was working.

Azriel barely registered the sting of each hit. The ache in his ribs, the burn in his muscles—it all blurred into the same tight, unrelenting pressure in his chest. Like there was no room left for air, for thought, for the gnawing guilt that had dug its claws into him and refused to let go. Cassian tackled him to the ground, pinning him, both of them struggling for breath.

“This is stupid!”

“I agree,” Azriel spat, shoving him off. “Get off me.”

“No, you!” Cassian said, pushing himself to his feet. “You’re stupid.”

Azriel sat up slowly, chest heaving as his shadows curled protectively around him. 

Cassian shook his head, wiping blood from his lip. “You’re better than this, Az. So be better and properly fuckin’ apologize. If not for you, for me—so my mate will stop glaring at me every time I say your name.”

Azriel’s gaze dropped to the ground, the weight of Cassian’s words sinking into him like a slow burn. His fists clenched at his sides, but he said nothing. Offered nothing. 

Cassian didn’t stop. “Gods know Y/n has done enough for you. Put up with enough. We’ve all done shitty things. But you know what? You take the hit, you own it, and you try to be better. You can’t lead with self-loathing forever.”

Azriel sat there longer than necessary, long after Cassian had walked away. People passed by—some casting glances his way, most not bothering to look at all—but he didn’t move. Didn’t feel the flicker of shame he might’ve once felt at sitting there, bloodied and bruised, shadows curling restlessly around him.

The sting in his cheekbone from Cassian’s knuckles pulsed dully, but it wasn’t enough to distract him from the gnawing thoughts taking root.

Maybe it wasn’t the fear of you rejecting his apology that held him back. Maybe it was the fear that you wouldn’t.

That you’d accept it. 

That somehow, he’d manage to make it up to you. That things would settle for a while, until he inevitably did something worse. Something irreparable.

He was terrified of succeeding—of pulling you back in, of you continuing to see something in him that he wasn’t. That you’d keep believing in this illusion, this version of him he’d somehow convinced you existed.

For centuries, it felt like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable—waiting for you to see him as he truly was. And if he made this right, if you forgave him, it would only give him more time to fail you again.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You were walking without a proper destination in mind.

You’d never been to it, but Azriel had once mentioned that Selene worked at a flower shop near the Palace of Thread and Jewels. He’d first run into her on one of his free days, when he’d stopped by a few of his favorite parts in the city.

This area made sense. It was near his usual route, tucked away in a cozy corner of the city. As the scent of flowers suddenly enveloped you, you heard Selene’s unmistakable voice. Relief surged through you; you’d found the right place. 

You thought back to your conversation with Cassian. You knew you weren’t in the wrong, that this current visit wasn’t expected of you. But it was something you could control. You’d wanted to get to know Selene better anyway. You prepared yourself, putting on a smile and stepping towards the door, but then—

“I mean, is he really worth all that effort?”

This was a voice you didn’t recognize. It curled around you, something about it making your stomach clench. 

A small sigh. “Azriel?”

This time, the voice belonged to Selene. You froze, rooted to the spot. Any inclination to quit eavesdropping washed away at the sound of his name. You felt a tightness in your chest—an almost primal urge to run in there, to stop the conversation before it even began. 

“Yeah,” the second voice pressed, “He’s a freak, Sel. Hot, sure, but a total freak. And so intense all the time.”

For a moment, there was silence. And then, Selene’s voice, almost reluctant, like she was holding back. “Well—”

Her friend interrupted. “And those shadows? Don’t they freak you out?”

A sound of disgust, maybe a shiver, followed her words. Something cold rushed through you, crawling beneath your skin, and for a moment, you didn’t know whether you wanted to shout or run. Or maybe both. Anger churned in your gut, and the calm, composed facade you’d been carefully maintaining on the walk here began to crack, slipping away piece by piece. 

“Hey, knock it off,” Selene replied, her voice soft.  “He surprises you. He’s sweet. He makes me happy.”

Her friend snorted. “Has it been an ego boost for you, then?”

“I mean, yeah,” Selene admitted quietly. “But that’s not all of it. Things with him actually aren’t… great right now. He canceled on me again tonight. I think it’s because he had some kind of fight with Y/n.”

The mention of your name stole the breath from your chest, and your body constricted almost involuntarily. 

Her friend’s voice was full of disbelief as she asked, “He actually told you?”

“No,” Selene said softly, “I—I heard them. I feel really bad, but…”

The next sound was unmistakable—the sharp intake of breath from her friend, a squeal of sorts.

“Did you actually use the listening charm I gave you? You little min—”

Something snapped in you as the words registered. A listening charm. A strange, gross invasion of privacy. And to think you had felt bad standing here, eavesdropping on their conversation in a public store, of all places. You’d been this close to giving her the benefit of the doubt.

You stormed into the shop, the door slamming behind you, and both voices froze. You barely registered Selene’s friend’s wide-eyed realization, the quiet “Oh shit” leaving her lips as she turned toward Selene.

Your focus was on Selene—on her and no one else. She stood there, an image of calm beauty that twisted something deep inside you—a type of beauty that felt somehow wrong, as if it were too polished, too perfect, for the situation. Her dark hair framed her face, her delicate features still and pale as she stared at you. The color drained from her face the moment your gaze locked with hers.

“Do you want to explain what I just heard?” you asked, your voice tight, sharp, biting. “Or should I just tell you what I’ve gathered?”

Silence. 

Her friend opened her mouth to protest, “I don’t think you have any right coming in here and—”

“I think this is a conversation for me and Selene,” you said coldly, not bothering to spare her a glance. 

Selene blinked a few times before she turned her head and offered her friend a small, almost reluctant nod.

“You should go,” she told her quietly. “And put the closed sign on the door, please.”

Her friend hesitated, but with a final glance in your direction, she walked out, the soft click of the door behind her leaving the two of you alone. You didn’t miss the way she’d muttered under her breath as she left, a quiet but very clear “Bitch.”

“Y/n,” Selene said after another moment of silence, her voice tentative, like she was trying to find the right words. “I didn’t know that you were here.”

“Clearly.”

Selene’s movements were stiff, awkward as she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, like she didn’t know what to do with her hands now that she was trapped in this uncomfortable moment.  “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t think that matters anymore,” you replied. “I asked you a question. I’d like to know what I just overheard.”

Selene’s ears flushed pink, a deep red that spread across her neck, as she took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You could feel your patience unraveling. Of course she didn’t know what to say. She’d been caught in the act. There was no excuse for this.

“You listened to us,” you snapped, the words bitter in your mouth. “You spied on Azriel. Do you just want to skip ahead to how you justify it?”

Her face paled, and for a moment, she looked younger—small, almost fragile. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Oh please.” The frustration boiled over, flooding your veins with anger you hadn’t realized was possible. Anything you’d felt before this moment paled in comparison. You shouldn’t have asked her to explain. You already knew whatever she said would only make things worse, would only add fuel to the fire that was your growing irritation.

This is stupid. This is ridiculous. How did you get roped into this?

“I know it was wrong!” she said quickly, the words tumbling out. “I know, okay? I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have let Runa convince me it was a good idea. But I didn’t know what else to do.”

That had to be the worst excuse you’d ever heard. It wasn’t just the stupidity of it that pissed you off—it was the weakness of it, the desperation in her voice that made you want to scream.  Azriel must be blind. Had he really been so wrapped up in whatever bubble he’d built around her that he couldn’t see the cracks? Was he so fucking love-blind that this—this—was what he was left with?

“What else to do? About what? Surely any other solution would have been better.”

She let out a deep sigh and her shoulders sagged with the motion. “I really like him,  Y/n.”

You snorted, a sound of genuine amusement—more out of sheer disbelief than anything else. You couldn’t help it. “Alright,” you said, dismissing her with a wave of your hand, not buying it for a second. “Don’t start.”

“I do,” Selene said, her voice more insistent now. “I think I might even love him. But it’s hard.”

You shot her an unimpressed look. 

Her voice was louder, more frantic, as she continued. “Azriel doesn’t talk about anything—anything real.”

You didn’t bother hiding the scoff. “Bullshit. Az talks. You just have to be patient. Communicate like a normal fucking partner.”

Her frustration flashed across her face, the defensive crossing of her arms only making her look more like a child. “Do you think I didn’t try that? He doesn’t tell me anything. Not really. He keeps everything locked up so tight—he barely even looks at me sometimes. What was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe not violate his privacy?” 

“You don’t get it.” Her hands trembled as she gestured at you. “He doesn’t talk to me like he talks to you. Do you know what it’s like to be the one he’s supposed to care about but feel like you’re always on the outside? Like there’s this wall between us that I can’t get through, but somehow you can?”

You should’ve walked away then. The urge to just let her talk herself into a hole was strong. But you didn’t.

“You’ve been dating him for a few months,” you said, crossing your arms, your stance slightly defensive. “We’ve been friends for centuries. You can’t expect him to open up to you completely overnight.”

“That’s not the point!” she snapped, her voice rising, a crack of desperation leaking through. For a fleeting second, you almost felt bad for her. A tug of sympathy.

“Then what the hell is the point?” you demanded. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re just looking for someone to blame. And for some reason, that someone is me. Are you seriously trying to imply I'm somehow responsible for you spying on him?”

Selene flinched, but she didn’t back down. You had to give her credit for that.  “No. I—I don’t know,” she mumbled, her hand tugging at her hair in jerky movements, like she was trying to yank the thoughts from her mind. “I panicked, okay? I didn’t think—I just… I didn’t want to lose him. I thought if I could figure out what was going on, maybe I could fix it. Maybe I could stop feeling like…”

“Like what?” 

“Like I’m always on the outside. Like I’m never going to be enough.”

A part of you wanted to snap back at her, to remind her that this wasn’t a justification, that none of this made it okay. But something about her voice—broken, raw, like a crack that had been growing for too long—slowed your response. Your anger faltered.

“I know it’s insane,” she added, “I know it was wrong, and I feel awful about it. But I didn’t know what else to do. It feels like i’m competing with someone who’s known him longer, who gets to see parts of him I never will. How am I supposed to make space for myself?”

“Still not a good enough excuse,” you bit out. “You can’t just violate his privacy because you’re insecure.”

Selene took a deep breath and met your gaze. There was no fight in them anymore. “Please, just go. Run off and tell Azriel everything. I know you’re probably excited to.”

Her words stung more than they should have.

“Why do you say it like that?” you asked, “Like I’m thrilled to ruin your relationship?”

Selene’s eyes flickered with something sharp. “Aren’t you?”

For a second, you almost wished you could be. Almost.

“No,” you said firmly. “I would never do that to Azriel. I’m not your competition. I’m his friend. I came here to give you the benefit of the doubt because I wanted you two to be happy. But this? This is…” You trailed off, unable to even finish the thought, because it was too much—everything about it felt wrong.

“Crazy?” Selene finished bitterly, shaking her head. “Yeah, I know. Believe me, I know how it looks. But like I said, you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to care about someone so much that you start losing sight of yourself. I think about him, about how much I care about him, and all my instincts go out the window. ”

Selene had always existed a certain way in your mind.

Azriel had seemed lighter when he first mentioned her, a softness in his voice that you hadn’t heard in years. And you’d been happy for him—thrilled, even, at the idea of someone bringing him a bit of joy. You’d wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, wanted to believe that she could be good for him. You were excited to meet her.

But then Az started to change.

The more he changed, the more Selene shifted in your mind, too. She became untouchable, an image conjured more from your worry than from anything real. You imagined her as someone clingy, someone who demanded all of his attention and made him forget the people who loved him first. Someone full of herself, reveling in the power she had over him.

And then you’d met her.

She wasn’t what you’d expected—though not in the way that might have changed your mind. She wasn’t warm or open, wasn’t eager to charm or connect with Azriel’s family. Instead, she’d clung to him like a second skin, her hands always on his arm, her smile reserved only for him. And maybe it was unfair, but you hadn’t liked the way she’d looked at you, hadn’t liked the guarded, wary edge to her voice when she spoke.

You’d trusted your gut, let it guide you through the uncertainty. And when things fell apart—when the argument between you and Az finally erupted—Selene’s image had shifted again.

She became a villain in your mind, a figure painted in sharp, unforgiving lines. It was easier that way. Easier to picture her whispering in Azriel’s ear, twisting his thoughts, pulling him further away from you. You’d built her into someone cruel, someone who reveled in the divide she’d caused.

But now, standing before her, you saw something else entirely.

Selene didn’t look cruel. She didn’t look smug or victorious. If anything, she looked fragile. There was an unease in her posture, a vulnerability in the way her hands fidgeted at her sides. The guardedness was still there, but it felt more like armor than arrogance.

And for the first time, you questioned how much of the image you’d built of her was real—and how much of it was your own fear, your own concern for Azriel, projected onto her.

“Why did you tell Azriel that I had feelings for him?”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you weren’t sure where they came from—but somehow, they lifted a deep weight off your chest.

Her brows furrowed, genuine confusion crossing her face. "What?"

“Why did you tell him that you thought I had feelings for him?”

“I wanted to see what he’d do,” she admitted. 

Disbelief tightened in your chest.  “So you lied to him for fun?”

She shook her head. “No I didn’t.”

“Yes,” you said, the word bitten out, “You told him I had feelings for him.”

“Because you do,” she answered, as though it were the simplest thing in the world, like she understood your feelings better than you did. And for a second—a stupid, fleeting second—you almost believed her.

Selene’s gaze didn’t waver. “I know what a female in love with him looks like,” she said quietly,  her voice soft in a way it wasn’t before. “I see it every day when I look in the mirror.”

Something inside you twisted painfully, a knot of emotions you couldn’t untangle fast enough. You focused on the irritation. 

“Am I wrong?” she continued. “Is he the best part of your day? Do you look forward to talking to him? Can you tell him things you’d never tell anyone else? Do you save bits of good food just so he can try it?”

Your throat felt tight, the words stuck somewhere between anger and disbelief. How had this conversation managed to spin so completely?

The breath you took felt jagged, like your lungs couldn’t quite expand all the way. “That’s not true,” you said. “Azriel and I… We’re friends. That’s all. We’ve been friends for centuries. That’s just—what happens when you’ve known someone that long.”

For a moment, you thought she might apologize, or at least reconsider. Her expression faltered, but instead, she just stared at you.

“Do you really believe that?”

When you didn’t reply, Selene blinked, cleared her throat, and turned away from you, leaning against the counter with a sigh. “This is so pathetic,” she muttered, her voice tinged with bitter amusement. “I’m standing here, basically pushing you to him.”

A sigh slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You hesitated, torn between frustration and a strange sympathy. Against every instinct telling you to be petty, a part of you felt bad for her. She cared about Azriel. Deeply. You were certain of it— unsure of how you knew, but you were certain nonetheless. There was no malice in her voice, just insecurity and raw, unspoken fear.

You hated that you could sense it, but you couldn't ignore it either. You could almost hear Amren in your ear, urging you to walk away, and Mor's voice reminding you that Selene didn’t deserve your kindness. But somehow, you couldn't bring yourself to leave. If Azriel saw something worth loving in Selene, maybe you did too.

“Okay, well, don’t do that,” you muttered, taking a step closer. The urge to comfort her was almost overwhelming—to show her that maybe she could learn and grow from this. “You need to talk to Az, Selene. Just sit down, be open—”

“Stop. Don’t be nice to me,” she snapped, spinning to face you. Her voice was sharp.

She moved as if to push you away, but hadn’t realized how close you’d stepped. The edge of her bracelet caught your cheek, and the sharp sting of metal cut straight through it.

Selene froze, her eyes widening as she took in the line of blood blooming on your cheek. “Oh my gods,” she whispered, her hands hovering uselessly. “I—I didn’t mean—”

You stepped back further, your hand still on your cheek, blood warm against your fingertips. 

This seemed about right, you thought bitterly to yourself. This is what happens when you try to be the bigger person. You were gonna kill Cassian. You were going to wring his godsdamned neck.

Selene’s voice became a rush of apologies, each one more frantic than the last, but your attention was already slipping away. Your gaze fell to the bracelet on her wrist. The metal gleamed, twisting slightly with every motion of her hand. You recognized it instantly.

Azriel had a similar one in his room. On his dresser.

“Is that how you did it?” you asked, pointing to her wrist.

Selene’s face drained of color, guilt flooding her expression. She nodded slowly, her hands shaking as she removed the bracelet and held it out to you, eyes wide and full of regret.

You took it from her fingers and, just for a moment, you almost let yourself fall back into the anger, the hurt. But you didn’t. You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself before shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” Selene whispered, voice breaking. “I really am. I was— I was just desperate. And Runa kept pushing, and—”

You cut her off with a sharp shake of your head, locking eyes with her. Her voice faded, but it didn’t matter anymore. “You’re not terrible, Selene. But you have terrible friends.”

You turned to leave but paused at the door, glancing back over your shoulder. “I suggest you find new ones.”

You tried to steady yourself as you stepped into the bustling streets of Velaris. The bracelet in your hand was cold against your palm, and the sting of the cut on your cheek throbbed with each beat of your pulse. Everything inside you felt scrambled—emotions tangled, confusion still clouding your mind.

The shuffle of footsteps broke through your fog. You looked up, just in time to hear a sharp voice.

“Ouch, that looks like it stung.” A small chuckle. “Although I’m sure you’re excited to have a reason for the Shadowsinger to tend to you.”

You scanned her. “Runa, right?”

She smirked, crossing her arms. “Yeah, that's me.”

Without hesitation, you found yourself saying, “You gave your friend some hurtful advice.”

Runa shrugged nonchalantly, almost amused. “Oops.”

You held your tongue for a moment, your irritation intensifying the longer you looked at her. Unlike Selene, who had managed to evoke some sympathy, Runa didn’t even come close. She shifted, as if waiting for you to bite.

The silence stretched before she finally broke it with a snide laugh. “Honestly, Selene’s better off without that freak of a boyfriend. She doesn’t need to be wrapped up with shitty court politicians.”

Something in you snapped. Maybe it was the words, maybe it was the whirlwind of emotions from the last half hour, but your patience with her was gone. You inhaled sharply, trying to steady your temper, and placed the bracelet in your pocket.

“Do you know who I am?”

Runa raised an eyebrow, the slightest trace of mockery in her smile. “Uh, yeah. You're an emissary or something, right?” She waved her hand dismissively, as if it didn’t matter.

You closed the distance between you in a few long strides. “Good,” you said, letting the word settle in the air. “I want you to remember that when you report.”

Runa looked confused, her smug attitude faltering. “Report what?” 

You smiled. And then you punched her in the face. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note: fun fact, this was the 6th draft of this!! and this felt like the way to go with the story....gives me some options to exploree. its also so long bc i wanted to keep all the fun scenes together tehehe sorry yall i got carried away

but selene....selene...selene... how i thought about her for a bit. i wanted to avoid making selene a caricature of a soulless mean jealous girl, i think it makes it somehow worse and even better to write knowing she was just incredibly insecure and misguided by people she trusted...doesn’t make anythinggg she did okay but

we out here rly testing our reader with a selene like villain rn. tehehe

also....time to imagine rhys holding nyx on his lap as he tells reader that shes in trouble for fighting a citizen in the open mf streets. rhys was so smug and now he’s like damn…wait a min… our public imagine SUCKSS

thank you for reading!!<3

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[jambrothebest]

People mischaracterising cass as the most perfect most well behaved child ever is so funny to me like that’s literally Crashout Cain right there

anyway top 5 Cassandra Cain Crash outs (in no particular order, also may not be top 5 just the ones I can think of rn and they’re all from batgirl 2000)

when she saw someone shoot and kill one of his own guys and got so mad at him she stopped his heart so he would know what it felt like to die

When she woke up in the ambulance after getting the shit beat out of her by lady shiva and jumped out of the moving ambulance, crashed into a police car then went to go fight shiva again with like 4x the amount of injuries she had the first time (all while shirtless btw because her shirt got shredded when she threw herself at the police car)

When Steph died and she spent the entire rest of her run crashing out every 5 seconds (I can’t give all the examples rn but it’s basically just all the batgirl 2000 comics after no mans land)

when she got kicked into a barrel of illegal drugs then proceeded to hallucinate her friends and family saying mean things to her and also the devil and angel on her shoulders fighting, the devil one then she crashed out and beat up all the drug gang members then when nightwing showed up she kicked him through a window

when she decided that she had to fight the joker to prove herself as batgirl so broke him out of prison and when she couldn’t read his body language she called him boring then beat the shit out of him when he dropped his guard

There are way more than this btw, everyone in the batfam is a certified crash out but Cass isn’t recognised as much as she should be and that should be changed. Crashout Cain 2025 everyone!!

Anyway hope we get some epic new crash outs in batgirl 2024!!

[coolemmasulivan2]

Back on Track

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: After a fight with Lando, you’re nowhere to be found when he leaves for Austin, making him fear the relationship is over. But when you arrive at the track with Max, he gets a second chance to make things right, and the two of you reconcile.

Word count: 2061

Even though we're going through it And it makes you feel alone Just know that I would die for you Baby, I would die for you, yeah

You and Lando rarely fought. You’d been together since his final season in Formula 2, a bloody long time, and you could count the big fights on one hand. But this one was different. This was the worst of them all.

It was his last day at home before flying to Austin, and somehow everything went down.

"You're being clingy!" He shouted, running a hand through his messy curls, frustration etched on his face.

You stared at him, stunned. "I’m being clingy? Me? Lando, we’ve been together for years, and I have never asked you for anything. The one time I do, and this is what you say? Wow."

"Yeah, well, you’ve never acted like this before!" His face hardened, eyes sparking with irritation you weren’t used to. "Seriously, if you suddenly want some boyfriend who’ll sit around every night, watching dumb TV shows and cuddling you to sleep, maybe you should find someone else."

You shook your head, disbelief morphing into something different, something more hurt. "Maybe I should do that!"

He was beyond pissed. "Then please, do! I'm going out and I'll do the same." He turned, grabbing his jacket without a second glance. and strode out, slamming the door shut behind him.

You flinched at the echo, the silence crashing down around you as tears started to well up. "I hate you, Lando Norris." You whispered into the emptiness of the apartment.

Lando sat in the VIP section of his favorite Monaco club, gazing blankly over the crowded dance floor. The music pulsed, people laughed and danced, but his thoughts were miles away, thinking of you.

Max leaned in, breaking Lando’s trance. "Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?" Lando shrugged. "Was it that bad?"

Lando sighed, his gaze distant. "It was! It was the worst fight we’ve ever had." He swallowed, the words bitter. "She probably thinks I’m cheating on her right now."

Max’s eyebrows shot up. "What are you talking about? Why would she think that?"

"Because, I pretty much said that." Lando muttered lound enough for Max to hear over the music.

Max looked at him, incredulous. "Why the hell would you say that, you absolute idiot? You love her."

Lando exhaled heavily. "I was angry! I didn’t even think. I just… said it. I realized how bad it sounded the second I left."

Max shook his head, staring at him with a mix of pity and frustration. "Well, congratulations: you’re an idiot!"

"Thanks for the information."

It was late when Lando finally got home. The apartment was dark, and silence filled the rooms. He stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, his mind caught between whether he should crash on the sofa or swallow his pride, apologize, and lie beside you.

He waked to the closed bedroom door, standing there for a long moment, nerves filling his body. His hand hovered over the doorknob, but he stopped himself. He stepped back and with the sting of guilt he fell down on the sofa.

You were deep asleep when a hand shook your shoulder. Groggily, you opened your eyes to see your best friend sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes barely open, hair rumpled from sleep.

"What?"

She yawned, rubbing her eyes before looking at you. "Your phone won’t stop ringing."

Blinking, you glanced at the empty nightstand, remembering you’d left your phone in the living room. "What time is it?" You muttered. "It’s probably Lando. We were supposed to leave for Austin early."

She groaned, pulling a pillow over her head and laying down next to you. "Then answer it or turn it off. It’s too early for this, and I’m exhausted."

"She rejected my call!" Lando exclaimed, pacing back and forth in the apartment.

Max raised an eyebrow. "That’s good news."

"How is that good?"

"At least we know she’s okay." He said. "And still mad at you, which is probably deserved."

"I don’t even know if she was still here when I got home last night. The bedroom door was closed, and I just… crashed on the sofa. I only realized she was gone this morning."

Max nodded thoughtfully. "So, what’s the plan now?"

“I don’t know,” Lando groaned, slumping into a chair, rubbing his hands over his face. "The team’s going to kill me if I miss this flight."

"So go!" Max said firmly.

Lando looked up, shaking his head. "No way. I’m not leaving without her."

Max rolled his eyes. "Look, she knows you have to leave, Lando. Sooner or later, she’s coming back, and when she does, I’ll bring her to Austin myself. Just go."

"What if she refuses to go?"

"She loves you. She'll want t make things right. Trust me!"

Lando hesitated. "You promise?"

"I promise."

You slipped into the apartment two hours later, knowing Lando would be gone by now. The silence felt heavy as you shut the door, but before you could make it to the kitchen, Max appeared, stepping out from Lando’s streaming room.

You jumped, clutching your chest. "Max! What the hell? You scared me!"

"Sorry!" He said, raising his hands in apology.

"What are you doing here? Is Lando still here?" You glanced around, half expecting him to walk out from somewhere.

"He left. Had to, or he’d have missed his flight."

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and taking a long sip. "I thought you were going with him."

"I am. I was just waiting for you."

You looked at him, understanding dawning slowly. "Max, I don’t think going with you is a good idea." You sank into a chair at the small dining table, and Max sat across from you.

"That’s not true."

"Max, you don’t know how he treated me, the things he said…" You swallowed, voice shaking. "He told me I should find someone else. And said he would, too."

Max leaned forward, shaking his head. "Look, he was furious and stupid. Belive me, I know what he said, and he regrets every word. He didn’t even want to leave. I practically had to drag him onto the helicopter."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "Max, I don't know."

"He’s an idiot, but he’s an idiot in love with you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone, Y/N. He’s been calling you non-stop, hoping you’d pick up, and he’s completely torn up about it. So please, come with me. Let’s go to Austin."

Lando had been unusually quiet all day. Practice had gone well, but not well enough; the Ferraris were ahead, and so was Verstappen. His mind should’ve been on the upcoming sprint qualifying, but all he could think about was you and the fight. He could only hope that Max was somehow convincing you to come to Austin.

"Everything alright? You’ve been quiet, which is… not like you." Oscar asked, glancing over at Lando as they wrapped up filming a video for McLaren’s social media.

"Just tired." Lando muttered.

Oscar hesitated, then asked gently. "Where’s Y/N? Lily told me she was coming."

Lando’s jaw tensed, his eyes flicking up to meet Oscar’s. "I… don’t think she’s coming." He admitted, his voice low. "I messed things up pretty badly."

Oscar raised his eyebrows. "Want to talk about it?"

Lando shook his head, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Not really. Just… hoping I haven’t lost her." He said, more to himself than to Oscar.

Lando was suiting up, pulling on his gloves and securing his helmet, trying to lock his focus onto the upcoming sprint qualifying. But the knot of anxiety in his stomach hadn’t eased since he arrived, knowing he might have to go through this entire weekend without you there.

Just then, Max appeared in front of him, grinning. "Hey, mate. Just came by to wish you luck. And, by the way…" Max lowered his voice, glancing over his shoulder. "She’s here."

"Fuck... thank you for bringing her."

There, standing quietly near the corner, arms crossed and headphones on, was you. You looked a little nervous, a shy expression on your face and when your eyes met, you quickly looked away.

A wave of relief fell over him, and he instinctively took a step forward, desperate to close the space between you. But Max put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Not now." Max warned. "You’ve got a sprint to think about. You can talk to her after."

"But—" Lando began, his eyes darting back to you, a urge to apologize.

A couple of mechanics also intercepted him, nudging him toward the car with hurried reminders. "We’re starting in a few, Lando."

Lando clenched his jaw, glancing back at you. Taking a deep breath, Lando slipped into the car, his heart beating a little steadier, his mind clearing. For the first time all day, he felt ready. You were here and that was everything.

You watched the qualifying from the garage, heart pounding with every lap. It was always like this: nerve-wracking, pride and fear as you watched him push himself and the car to the limit. But today, your chest felt even tighter, knowing the tension lingering between you.

When the session ended, Lando finished fourth. Relief mixed with a bit of pride washed over you as you clapped, your gaze fixed on him as he came into the garage.

The moment he spotted you, he didn’t hesitate. He strode over and without a word, he reached for your hand, gently but firmly, and led you out of the garage toward his driver’s room, ignoring the curious glances around you.

Once inside, he closed the door. "Y/N… Babe, I’m so sorry."

You looked down, your arms wrapping around yourself. "You hurt me, Lando. You didn’t just walk away, you made me feel like I was… too much."

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand again. "I was an idiot. I don’t even know why I said those things. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. None of it was true. You’re not ‘too much.’ You’re… everything to me."

"I thought you didn’t want me anymore."

He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. "That could never be true. I can’t imagine any of this, my life, racing, anything, without you." He brushed a stray tear from your cheek. "I was terrified you wouldn’t come. That I’d ruined everything."

You took a shaky breath. "Max convinced me… told me you didn’t want to leave, that you were just… scared of losing me."

"More than you know." He said, his hand holding yours firmly. "Please forgive me, Y/N. I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you."

"I don't want you to give up anything, Lando."

"I know. I know. That's not what you asked me."

After a long moment, you squeezed his hand. "I’m here now." You said softly. "Let’s just start with that."

Relief flooded his face as he wrapped you in his arms, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let go. "I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful you’re here. I don’t want to mess this up ever again."

You gave him a gentle smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "I didn’t come all this way to hold onto what happened. Let’s just… move forward. Together."

He smiled. "Together."

A knock on the door interrupted the moment. "Lando?" A team member called from the hallway. "They need you back in the garage in five!"

Lando glanced back toward the door, then returned his gaze to you, clearly torn. "Go!" You murmured. "I’ll be here when you’re done. I’m not going anywhere."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. You melted into it, letting the last of the hurt dissolve in his warmth.

When he pulled back, he looked at you with a smile . "I’ll be quick." He said, squeezing your hand before reluctantly letting it go and heading toward the door. Just as he opened it, he paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time. "I love you."

"I love you too." You whispered.