#she's out alone on the streets someone has to make sure she's okay right.

[ame-to-ame]

oh. hm.

[tvseries-writings]

Elevators are deadly traps

Wandanat x reader

Plot: You and your girlfriends get trapped in the elevator but the heat makes you faint and Wanda is not the biggest fan of small, enclosed spaces.

TW: fainting, panic attack

You never believed that drinking water was so necessary; you were never a big drinker and although Wanda always told you, nay, begged you, to drink at least the necessary amount you never listened to her but maybe you should have today.

You watch the busy streets of New York, listening to Natasha and Wanda talk while your eyes don't leave for a moment the view that lurks outside the window of the expensive car that only the black widow, of the three of you, dares to drive; you've never even been a great driver...Let alone drive a car that costs two hundred thousand dollars in the busiest city in the world.

The 93 F makes the asphalt scorching, much more than usual; it is so hot that the air ripples from the heat, distorting the images that pass before your eyes.

Natasha turns right and the Avengers tower enters your view, towering over all the buildings around it. It is not the most beautiful building in New York, contrary to what Tony likes to think, but it is definitely the one that makes you feel the safest.

“Is everything okay malyshka?” Natasha looks at you from the mirror, raising her sunglasses for a few seconds to get a better look at you.

“Yes Nat.”

You lean forward, ending up between the two seats and leaving a kiss on the cheek first to the former spy and then to the Sokovian who turns around at the exact moment you turn toward her to receive a real kiss.

“Hey, that's not fair. Next time one of you will drive.”

Natasha moans, giving you a weak elbow in the side that makes you and Wanda pull away.

“Oh come on Nat, you'll be rewarded” Wanda smiles mischievously, letting her hand slide down the blonde's thigh.

You sit back down, giving them an amused look but as you do so, dizziness makes you close your eyes for a few seconds. Apparently the heat has affected you more than you thought since you've risen just a couple of inches.

“Detka?”

Wanda turns to you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she is wont to do when the Sokovian is angry or worried.

“Yes?”

You open your eyes, smiling as if the nausea isn't wearing you down and the dizziness isn't making you sway even while sitting up.

“Are you okay?”

The car stops, you have probably entered the tower garage but you are so focused on not letting her notice that you are sick that you are not completely sure.

“Yes, of course, why?”

Wanda looks at you as if the answer is obvious but before she has a chance to retort, the driver's side door is thrown open by a rather pissed off Iron Man.

“Natasha, I've told you a million times not to take this car, it costs a fortune.”

“I know, Stark, but I remind you that I always told you I'd keep taking it since you bought it. Although I must admit, I'd like to find the keys in the car already and not have to bypass your office's fallacious security system to get them.”

Natasha smiles, stepping out of the car and tossing the keys toward the multimillionaire; the man rolls his eyes, stuffing the keys in his pocket before walking away at a brisk pace, muttering something about “having to implement anti-widow security systems.”

“You're terrible Nat, you'll drive him crazy.”

You say with a smirk, opening the door in turn; you just sit there, still not trusting your body to keep you stable.

Wanda comes around the car and quickly joins you.

Although you are inside the garage, the temperature is just below that outside and certainly much higher than it was inside the car.

“Are you sure you're okay y/n? You're a little pale” Natasha places a hand on your right cheek and you lean into her touch, turning a reassuring smile to her.

“I'm fine Nat, let's go home. If I'm not mistaken, someone needs to be compensated for her chauffeuring services.”

Your joke seems to make her relax a little, and that gives you the confidence to finally put one foot on the ground. You get up and despite the dizziness that hits you as soon as you do, you manage to hide it masterfully, heading toward the elevator with your girls. Although it is only a few meters, when you enter inside it feels like you have traveled at least twenty kilometers.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. take us to the forty-seventh floor please.”

“Right away Ms. Romanoff.”

As soon as the elevator doors close, you lean against the handrail placed on the wall behind you praying that your condition will not worsen. You observe Wanda out of the corner of your eye; the Sokovian hates elevators but is well aware that she cannot climb forty-seven flights of stairs therefore, after an animated conversation about why she could not use her powers to do so, you had convinced her to use that “infernal contraption”-as she likes to call it-to reach your floor.

A loud roar diverts your attention away from the girl, and before you can figure out what's going on, the elevator suddenly stops; if it weren't for Natasha's lightning-fast reflexes, your face would surely be splattered on the floor or the metal wall in front of you, considering the gigantic size of the elevator. Big Tower big elevator, as Tony likes to say.

“Are you all right?”

Natasha watches you both, helps you to your feet and then draws Wanda into a hug.

“Honey, it's okay, the elevator will probably start working again in a few seconds.”

Wanda nods and does not even give you a glance; she is totally focused on not panicking completely. She hates elevators and now she is hating you too since you forced her into them.

Ten minutes pass and you are still stuck inside the elevator. The temperature, which was previously kept under control by the air conditioning, has risen considerably and the dizziness is only getting worse so, although you are the only one, you decide to sit down in the hope that this will help.

The former spy's phone that suddenly and, when Natasha answers, Tony's voice rings out in the metal box you are stuck in.

“Hey Nat, there you see, there's a little problem, I may have knocked out the power to like well...all of Manhattan so you're going to be there for a while but I'm working on it okay? All right, see you later.”

Natasha is not in time to insult him that Tony ends the call. Natasha mumbles something in Russian and although you know few words of her native tongue, you are pretty sure they are not compliments she is paying him.

Wanda's hand is clasped between yours and you speak words of comfort to her as sweat beads your foreheads. You and Natasha take turns, trying to keep her breathing under control; the Sokovian has had panic attacks before and the last thing you need is for her to have one right now.

“Because I let you talk me into it,” Wanda whines, squeezing your hand before standing up abruptly, starting to pace back and forth in the elevator as her breathing quickens.

“Wanda, love, it will be okay, I know you hate elevators but-”

Natasha gets up to join her and you do the same but realize the shit you've done too late; in fact, it takes less than ten seconds for your body to fall to the floor with a thud.

“Y/N!”

Both Natasha and Wanda scream in shock.

“Honey, open your eyes malyshka come on.”

Natasha falls to her knees beside you, placing your head on top of her legs and shaking your sweat-soaked hair from your forehead.

“D-detka open your eyes.”

Wanda caresses your cheeks and although she is still in a panic, she makes an effort to keep herself lucid for at least a few more seconds.

You blink a few times, and when you open your eyes, the metal of the ceiling reminds you where you are.

“Hey, take it easy, Wands do you have any water?”

Natasha whispers, continuing to caress your face as Wanda frantically searches through her bag before shaking her head. Her breathing is quickening again and she is far too quiet to be Wanda.

“I'm fine,” you whisper and then give the blonde a look that admits no reply as you wave her over to your girlfriend.

“You're not fine, you just fainted, you're probably dehydrated, and we're going to be stuck here for who knows how much longer.”

Natasha regrets what she said as soon as she hears a whimper coming from the sokovian before the latter falls to the floor, burying her head between her knees as you clearly hear her breathing shorten alarmingly. Natasha quickly removes her shirt and rests it under your head before moving toward Wanda.

“Don't try to get up y/n, just stand there, I got this.”

You watch her walk over to the sorceress and gently touch her arm.

“Wands, hey, it's me. You have to breathe love, I know it's hard but you have to do it.”

Natasha strokes her back and Wanda's breathing seems to calm slightly as she lifts her head to look at you.

“There you are, good girl, now follow my breathing. In and out, in and out. So good.”

As Natasha focuses on Wanda, you quickly assess your condition before sitting up and trudging toward them.

“I told you not to get up.”

“I'm sitting up and feeling better Nat.”

You whisper, holding Wanda tightly in a hug and letting her listen to your heart beat at a steady pace.

“You are so stubborn, you-”

Another roar brings her to a halt and then, to your relief, the elevator starts up again. In two minutes, the elevator arrives on your floor and when the doors open, Natasha gives you a worried look-Wanda is massaging her chest while you are still sitting on the floor with a complexion so pale as to make the dead envious.

“Wands, do you feel up to walking?”

The Sokovian nods but Natasha equally encircles her hips with her arm before ushering her toward your bedroom but not before issuing you a warning.

“Don't try to move, don't even think about it.”

You watch them walk to the end of the hallway and extend your leg to block the elevator door sensor. As soon as you see them disappear from your sight, you close your eyes and lean your head against the wall behind you, trying to counteract the dizziness and nausea.

After a few minutes you hear hurried footsteps and then a glass is pressed to your lips.

“Drink malyshka,” Natasha whispers, tilting the glass and helping you drink the water inside. When you finish it, Natasha sets the glass on the floor before taking your face in her hands; you stay like this for a few minutes before she speaks.

“Can you get up?”

You nod to her, and after a few seconds, the Russian encircles your sides with her arms and lifts you off the floor, checking you during every step you take to your bedroom.

“How about I call Bruce? At least he'll take a look at you...”

You shake your head and in doing so lean even more against Natasha.

“No, I'm fine Nat. I just drank a little water, that's all.”

Natasha sighs yet does not retort, helping you sit down next to Wanda.

Although you are still lightheaded and dizzy, your stomach twists as you see how much Wanda is still shaken by what has happened.

“Hey love, how are you feeling?”

You reach out to her, taking her hand and intertwining your fingers. Wanda turns to you as soon as she hears your voice and hides her head in the crook of your neck; you leave a few kisses in her hair before the Sokovian speaks.

“I'm fine, I'm sorry for-”

“No, hey, you don't have to apologize, you know it's not something we control. Neither Tasha nor I do, did you ever tell us to apologize for that?”

Wanda shakes her head and both you and Natasha nod.

“That's right honey, so never apologize for that okay?”

Natasha sits on Wanda's other side as Wanda pulls away from you and lies down on the bed, motioning for you to get on her side. You are about to do so but a sharp dizziness causes you to desist and swing dangerously to the side; Wanda's grip on your shirt prevents a disastrous fall.

“Hey y/n, hey!...Nat, did you give her sugar?”

Wanda sits up to support you better as she watches Natasha shake her head.

“No, I...I just gave her water, now I'm going to get it.”

You want to protest but you can't, you can't even keep your eyes open.

“Detka, honey drink this. It will help you.”

Natasha hands Wanda the glass with water and sugar and the Sokovian places it on your lips helping you drink every last sip; after a few minutes the sugar finally takes effect.

“Do you feel better?”

Wanda whispers, drawing small circles on your back as you open your eyes. You nod slowly, resting your head on Natasha's shoulder and turning a small smile to the Sokovian.

“I really think we should all get some rest, and we'll call Bruce later.”

Natasha leaves a kiss on your temple, giving you a look that clearly indicates how much you cannot retort at the moment. From the look on Wanda's face, she agrees too so you surrender to your girls, letting them tuck you in before hugging you on both sides.

“Rest, I love you,” Natasha lets you both have a kiss before lying down and closing your eyes. You reciprocate her “I love you” before following suit.

You three may be a mess but you are definitely a good trio.

Thank you for reading! This piece sucks but I wanted to write something and will probably delete it later anyway...thanks and have a great day!

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[macfrog]

if i had a gun cowboy like me chapter 12.5 (joel's pov)

long-awaited, pain-packed, and sealed with a bow by yours truly. i love y'all. thank you for being so patient and kind with me on this one. this chapter is joel's experience of the end of illicit affairs and all of hits different. you might wanna check those chapters out before you indulge in the angst-fest that is this one. hope you enjoy 🧡

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: walk a mile in joel miller's shoes. see if you'd do anything different

warnings: more heartache, more angst, lois, alcohol + drug consumption, mention of reader being roofied, very brief mention of joel punching knox, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 9.8k

terrible news! there is no more taglist! make sure you're following @macfroglets w notifs on if you wanna be buzzed when i post 🤍

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Right. Sorry. It’s just…we kinda have a…situation, here.” It’s you. He fucking knows it’s you. His heart begins to hammer. He doesn’t give a fuck whether she puts two and two together or not when he asks – “Where is she?” “We’re still at Frank’s,” Anna says, sniffing. He can hear the booming bassline of music, muffled; the sharper chatter of voices. She’s on the street. In his head, he can see her shoulders hunched; her bare arms wrapped around her body for warmth. She goes to say it again. “We’re still at –” “’n where is she?” Joel cuts, and she finally cracks.

You’re still fast asleep when he lifts his head.

You’ve had this argument plenty before. I do not snore. Yes, baby, you do. I’ve heard you. I don’t! It’s alright, it’s okay that you do. It’s a cute snore. Joel, I don’t fucking –

Right now, he’s pretty certain you’re snoring. He just wishes you were awake to hear yourself.

He thinks about pulling his phone, taking a video so that once you’re up, you can hear the little bursts of air, the tiny rasps from your nostrils as you snooze. But if he ever did record anything like that – just like the Hillcrest pictures, until you’d found them last night – he’d keep it for himself. Wouldn’t offer it up so easily.

Just something for him to have, for all the time he spends without you.

Your hair’s still all over the place. Tangled in Joel’s right arm, still smelling of chlorine and sex. Your head rests softly on the crook of his elbow like it’s a pillow; your lips and eyes are puffy, tired. You have this ridiculously strong vice grip on his left arm; during the night he felt you wrap your wrists around it and pull it into your chest, tucking it gently under your chin until your entire upper half was drowned in his.

His chest snug against your back, his arms encasing you safely, and his hips…his hips lined with yours. His now semi-hard cock buried between your legs – he’d slept inside you last night, and it was like, after forty-eight years, someone finally took him by the shoulders and said: This is how you do it. This is how you rest.

He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow, soon as his eyes fell shut. He stirred only to feel you maneuvering his arm, and then fell straight back asleep.

He felt comfortable. He felt safe. Big, old, tough guy Joel Miller. Never let anybody in since Sarah’s mom left. Alone for almost seventeen years, and fine with it. His cheeks heat at the idea of needing – of wanting to feel that. Safe. But then you came along, and he realized he’d been waiting his whole life to feel it. Didn’t even notice he’d been missing it.

That’s how these things go, right? Can’t miss what you don’t have, and all that.

But now he has it. Now he has you.

And you make him feel things he’s never felt before, or if he has, it was so fucking long ago that he’s forgotten. You drive him fucking insane. Keep him up at night, wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into. Make him do stuff that his reflection glares at him over. Are you being serious right now? Make him…different. New.

The night before last, when he’d picked you up from Frank’s after rodeo night, he promised to make you a big breakfast in the morning. Compensation for not swinging by McDonald’s on the way home. But then your dad called, and you had to take off before Joel had even properly woken up.

When he eventually rose from the bed, he went straight to the store. Stocked up on eggs, flour, sugar, bananas. He’d printed a recipe from his computer while you were gone. Marked the items off as he meandered through the store. Stood for ten minutes deliberating over which gluten-free flour would be best, before an assistant asked if he needed any help.

I’m good, he muttered, and then, as the kid wandered off, cleared his throat and said, Actually –

Greg – the kid assistant in question – had suggested the red bag. Said it’s corn flour, instead of wheat. Joel can’t pronounce the brand name. He just knows it’s tucked behind a box of cereal in the cupboard downstairs – he hid it there so you wouldn’t find it and snuff out his plan.

His plan, which he now has to put into action. Without waking you. He’d lie here forever just staring at you, if he hadn’t sworn to himself to make good on his promise and cook you some damn pancakes.

So he slowly pulls his left hand from between yours, loosening your death grip, and steals it back across your waist. He does the same for his right arm – more careful, though, so he doesn’t tug on your hair. Like some kind of wild cat creeping through the jungle, every moment calculated and careful.

He bunches the comforter up a little at your back, so that if you do stir, it might feel like he’s still there. Still a weight, curving around you. He takes a good five minutes just to travel the length of the room – the lightest he’s ever walked, dodging the spots on the carpet that he knows make the floorboards squeal.

When the door gently clicks back into place, he heads downstairs. Cracks out his frying pan – non-stick, obviously – and all his ingredients, pulls the printed recipe from its hiding place between two cookbooks and lays it out on the counter, flattening the creases and unfolding the corners. And gets to it.

His first egg cracks messily over the lip of the bowl. The yolk runs down the outside, and he curses before swiping it back up with his index finger. The second egg empties fully inside the bowl, but drags with it tiny fragments of shell. Joel spends five minutes focusing on picking every single piece out of the mixture. He crouches to make sure he’s poured the exact amount of milk, eyes level with the top of the liquid, and he double checks every step before he follows it.

This has to be perfect. Has to be. For you.

The entire time, all he can think about is you asking to sleep with his body inside yours. Wanting him closer than you’d ever wanted him before, as close as he could physically be. Your sleepy voice circles between his ears on loop – want somethin’ else. That safe feeling creeps up on him all over again.

He knows he shouldn’t. He can’t. He’s spent the last month purposefully pushing those feelings down, dampening them anytime they rose to the surface. Only allowing himself to feel them, to acknowledge them, when you’re around. Because he can’t fucking help but acknowledge them when you’re here – they stare him straight in the face.

So he’d been making peace with letting the floodgates open just a little bit at a time – one quick rush whenever you’d give him one of your meaningful glances, when your hot skin would brush against his, when your mouth would fall open at the feeling of his first deep thrust inside you.

And then he’d bolt them back up.

Except that, now…he’s not sure the dam can hold much longer. There are cracks he’s not repairing quickly enough. Unintended consequences hammering against the other side of the stone in the form of angry white waves.

He’s staring at the beige circle of batter in the pan, swept off with the waves into someplace far from his kitchen, when the sound of your voice draws him back.

“Joel? You down there?”

The floorboards at the top of his stairs creak. You’re leaning over the banister.

“Yeah, darlin’, I’m here.” He slips halfway out of the kitchen door, closing it over his body in hopes you won’t smell the pancakes. You ask what he’s doing, and he says, “Just makin’ a coffee. You want anything brought up?”

“I’m good,” you reply. “’m gonna take a shower.”

“Alright, baby. There’s probably some stuff in Sarah’s bathroom you can use.”

He listens closely as your footsteps recede, waiting to hear the hum of his shower before he relaxes again, flipping the pancake over. It sizzles away as he runs one thick finger along the inside of the bowl and tastes his handiwork. Pretty damn good, he thinks. He’s sucking his finger clean when his cell goes.

Joel swipes to answer, and before he can utter a Hello?, your dad’s voice is screaming down the line to him.

“Mornin’, pal! You in? You up?”

He figures this is the infamous speakerphone you rambled for ten minutes about last night. Like a fucking foghorn, man. I’m deaf in this ear now.

He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond. “I was just passin’ by, remembered you got that leakin’ pipe, or whatever it is. Under your sink, right? You good for me to drop in ‘n take a look?”

“Uh – uh, I’m –” Joel stammers his way through a sentence he doesn’t know the ending of, slotting the phone between his cheek and his shoulder and giving the pan a rattle against the stovetop. He slips the spatula under the mixture, and when he flips it over, the pancake is charcoal black. “Fuck.”

“What’s that?” you dad roars, deafening in Joel’s ear. Fuckin’ speakerphone.

“Nothin’, it’s…” He sighs, accepting his new-found position: backed into a fucking corner. What’s new these days?

“Yeah, I’m up. See you in a bit.”

He hangs up the phone midway through an Alright, buddy from your dad, and whacks the chargrilled pancake on top of the pile. His phone surfs across the counter in a blur of blind panic, before Joel’s taking the stairs two at a time to get to you.

The door’s ajar. He can hear you quietly singing to yourself. Same song you’re always fucking singing, always trying to coax Joel into singing along with you. You’re humming the guitar solo when he whips the door open.

“Hey, hey,” he’s panting, taking your towel in one hand and reaching for the shower door with the other, a blur of movement before his eyes like he’s not in control of his own body. “Out.”

“Huh?” you reply, blinded by the soap suds running down your forehead and into your eyes.

“Baby,” Joel whispers, desperate, “you gotta get out. He’s here. Your damn dad’s here.”

He drags you over to the first place he spots: his closet. He knows it’s no fucking good, but he can hear your dad’s car squealing to a halt in his drive, and he’s in a blink panic wondering what artefacts, what evidence of your being here lie dotted around his house. Your bikini’s hanging up out back, there’s probably a hoodie still strewn over the back of his couch.

He doesn’t have time to think, though, because in the midst of his mental scan of every room whilst explaining to you what’s going on, your dad’s heavy boots just thudded onto his doormat.

“Miller?” he calls up the stairs. And Joel closes the closet over.

----------

He stands by the front door watching your dad’s car purr off down the street, waiting until it turns left and disappears behind the Dawsons’ back fence to shut the door. When he turns back into his hallway, the house is uncomfortably silent. You’re still up in his room.

The weight of your phone pulls at the waistband of his jeans. He slips his hand into his back pocket, fishes it out, and takes one step toward the stairs. The screen lights in his palm.

There’s a cluster of notifications from some film class group chat, a couple Snapchats from Sarah. A reminder to take your birth control from some pink-icon app, and then –

I’m heading over to Joel’s to check something out for him. Wanna meet me there?

He stares at it until the text burns into his eyes. Blinks, and it’s seared into his lids. His breath leaves his chest in a heavy, burdened sigh. It trembles as it pushes from his lungs. He feels something burning under his skin. All over.

He’s angry. And he’s trying to keep it contained.

Keep it where it lies, keep it beneath the surface. Stop it from pooling right behind his lips, collecting in the light of his eyes. Keep it from revealing itself. But when his foot lifts to the first step, it’s like a deadweight in the air.

He’s angry. But he’s fucking exhausted.

The bedroom is empty when Joel pushes the door open. You’re still hidden in the closet. You don’t look up at him when he pulls on the shuttered door, letting light flood across your hands, still covering your face. There are flicks of dripping wet hair peeking out from under the towel on your head.

He wants to put his arms around you. Wants to kiss you all over. Tell you, It’s okay, it’s alright. He didn’t see nothin’.

But he can’t. Because neither of those things are true.

Your dad saw the cowgirl hat. Hell of a lot like a hat my daughter has. It sent a sharpened bolt of panic through Joel’s body the second the words came tumbling out. He might’ve seen your bag lying at the bottom of the stairs. Might’ve passed your car on his drive here. There are so many loose fucking ends.

And more than that – harder to accept: maybe this isn’t okay anymore. Maybe it hasn’t been the entire time. And maybe, despite all his good efforts and the fucking way you make him feel, despite it being weeks now of tiptoeing and lying and covering your tracks – maybe you finally crossed a line.

He can’t look at you a second longer. His heart’s in his throat. If he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll probably choke. Break down. So he walks away.

You follow him downstairs a few minutes later, fully dressed and silent. Your touch sweeps across his shoulder blades, and it takes everything in him not to turn to you then and there. Come here, kiss me. Pretend none of it’s happening, just for a moment.

He sets your plate down in front of you. He’s taken the burnt pancake. He follows a pattern: cuts into the food, glances out to the backyard, and back to the plate. It’s the only thing keeping the words from rolling out onto the table in front of him. The only thing stopping him from –

You kick his leg. So gently, he barely feels it.

“You gonna eat?” he asks in response, chewing on the smoky flavor of burnt batter. Your hands hesitate, and he feels his own flinch as if to take them, rub them, squeeze them. And then he watches as you drag your knife through your own breakfast.

He wants you to yell at him. He wants to give meaning to the guilt he feels. He knows what’s coming, and he isn’t so sure that you do.

This is…impossible. It has been, from the start. Always sneaking off, coming up with excuses. So many fucking excuses, he can’t even keep them straight in his head anymore. She’s here, droppin’ my flannel off. Now we’re upstairs, I’m showin’ her my guitar. Need her to help with decorations. Your TV’s broken, did you know that? Don’t mind us, just sat in this private corner of my backyard, out of view of fucking everyone. I’ll pick her up from her rodeo night, take her home. She’s at Anna’s all day today, right?

And your dad – kind and naïve, or maybe just so fucking gullible that every single one lands like the flour did in the egg mixture. Just gracefully floats down into his brain, absorbs itself and folds perfectly into place.

So, yell at him. Get mad. Make him feel like the fucking asshole he knows he is. Leading you on, and letting you get close to him, and then when it gets too hard – pushing you away. Doesn’t matter if that’s what he did or not; doesn’t matter whether he did or didn’t mean it. He wants you to be mad at him. To justify what he’s about to do.

He slides you your phone. Motions for you to read it.

“Fuck…” you whisper, and then he thinks you get it.

But then you say, “…he didn’t see me, though. Right?” and his heart sinks.

No. He didn’t see you. But he saw so many little pieces of you, that Joel finds it impossible to consider that he isn’t already seeing the entire picture. He’s picturing your dad at home in the living room, one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair, adding two and two and two and two and –

You’re bickering. Actually arguing. He doesn’t know how to navigate it, save for letting the frustration take the wheel and drive the point home: you came too close to being caught.

You’re smarter than this, he knows you are. He knows that you can see plain as day, everything that he can. The bag, the hat, the fucking home-cooked breakfast sat on his kitchen counter. He’s watching you argue your point, hands dancing in the air animatedly, eyebrows lifting, eyes widening. Hear me out. Listen to me. Hear me out.

“I didn’t fucking mean to let him see the b–”

“That’s not the point,” Joel says, before he has time to stop himself.

“Then what’s your point?”

He feels his voice carry off into the air with the images racing around his head. Hank’s shadow under the door. The roar of voices downstairs as you climaxed. Your body pinned under Joel’s on your couch. The way the morning light screamed into the house as your front door burst open.

He doesn’t sound like he has much of a point, even to himself. He’s in it just as much as you are. He’s lied and he’s hidden just as much as you have, and made mistakes that are…worse, as far as he’s concerned.

And the worst one of all sits directly opposite him. Head low, eyes boring into the wood of his kitchen table. He can see the tears swelling across your waterline. Can feel the heat from here as it spreads across your face. Anger thrums through his chest again, and his teeth grit.

He murmurs, pushing himself up from the table and away from you. Tells you there’s some stuff he needs to see to. You’re mad about it, like he knew you would be. Like you should be. He promises he’ll be back in a couple hours; promises you’ll talk when he gets home.

And then he leaves.

----------

Clark’s is on the other side of town. It takes him nearly forty minutes to get there, and more than half of that time is spent staring at the tail lights of a Honda in front of him. Some accident up ahead. His eyes bore into the burning red strip of brake light until it’s singed into them, a blur of blue when he finally rips his glare away and stares up at the white sky.

He thinks about calling you. Saying, Hey, I’m stuck in traffic, talk to me, but he doesn’t. He just…doesn’t.

Instead, he wonders what you’re doing. Whether or not you’re still at his place. He wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. But if you are – and he hopes you are – what are you doing?

He thinks: She’s on the couch. Bundled in blankets. Grey’s is on TV. She’s rewatchin’ her favorite episodes.

Least, that’s what he wants you to be doing. Wants you to be making yourself feel better, because he knows he was a complete ass earlier. You didn’t deserve any of it. Nothing that he didn’t deserve himself, just as much, anyway.

He thinks about coming home, and you hitting pause, pushing yourself off the couch and sauntering around to him. Wrapping him in the blanket until your bodies are pressed together under the woven red, and kissing him. Kiss me kiss me kiss me.

And the thought of you, standing on your tiptoes to press your soft lips to his, your fingers sifting through his hair, is like a cold pack on a searing wound. Dulls his anger, even if it’s just for a second.

His wide tires crawl silently across the smooth lot of the plant hire, parking right in front of the wire fence. The truck door slams shut when he gets out. He doesn’t mean it. Maybe he does. But he does it without thinking, and with a hot head, a temper sharper than nails, he strides over to the glass-paneled door and swings it open.

She’s sat behind the desk, same as always. Dark, deep auburn hair, groomed and set to perfection so that when she looks up, it doesn’t move an inch. Curls around the sweetheart shape of her face, smooth and shining. Her blue eyes twinkle in the glaring light from outside, and she stands.

She tugs lightly on the hem of her white blouse. You’d probably elbow him and say, That’s cream, not white. She smiles at him and it doesn’t look a thing like your smile. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw your smile. Fuck, he thinks, when did I last make her smile?

And he’s still wondering, when Lois says, “Hey, stranger,” and puts a gentle, pale, red-nailed hand down on the desk. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” Joel grumbles, clearing his throat and glancing at the man in a pair of thick, steel-toe boots, sat in a waiting area to his left. He thinks it’s probably polite to ask how she is. It’s been seven weeks since he blew off her hint for a date.

“Good, thanks,” she replies, cheeks swelling even more. They’re lightly shaded crimson, a soft shimmer to them against her snowy skin, dappled with light freckles. “You?”

He nods once. “Good,” he echoes, not sure what else to say. He’s lying, and she doesn’t seem to figure him out the way you would.

No. Instead, Lois steps back, straightens up, and twirls the pen in her fingers. “What can I do ya for?”

“Got some equipment I’m after,” he mutters, hand slipping into his back pocket for his phone. Lois’s eyes flit up and down his body as he taps his passcode in with his thumb.

She asks him something, but it sounds like she’s speaking through a closed door. He’s elsewhere.

The phone unlocks, screen lifting to reveal the last open app: his camera roll. His thumbs hover over the screen, tracing where yours would’ve tapped last night.

The video’s muted, she won’t hear it even if he let it play, but he swipes away the second he recognizes the tangled mess of your hair, his fist locked tight in it. His own hair, salt and pepper buried deep in the crook of your neck.

Something in his chest aches. Pulls tight, hurts his heart. He takes a deep breath and scares the feeling away. He’s staring at his camera roll. Staring at twelve little square thumbnails – couple of them work stuff, couple of them lists of supplies he has to remember to pick up – and then. Then.

You. At the Hillcrest. Dimples in your cheeks. That’s what made him take his phone out. The soft dips in your skin that appear anytime you smile, laugh, sometimes even just when you talk. He’d first noticed them when you had a mouth full of pizza, chatting animatedly about Meredith and Derek, and he’s noticed them every time since.

He’d seen them, as you posed with Sarah for a selfie at lunch. And his hand had slipped into his pocket before his brain even had the chance to finish the thought.

His quiet way of marking how he felt in that moment. How his chest seemed to fill as if with air, or something thicker. Sweeter. Like it was trying to push words up, a comment to tell you how beautiful you looked. Trying to make him move, run his thumb light as air across that tiny valley in your cheek and look at you with eyes that translated the words hammering behind his eyes.

But you had company. And all he managed to do was take two fucking photos.

Lois talks again, and this time, there’s no closed door.

“Huh?” Joel’s head snaps up, takes a few seconds to focus on the red hair in front of him. “Sorry, Lois, sorry.”

“’s alright. You okay?” She’s smiling so warmly, so sincerely. And there are no dimples in her cheeks.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “just checkin’ for the address.”

She holds out a pad, a stack of hire agreement forms hovering between her body and his, but he’s not looking. He’s still scrolling through his phone, thumbs searching your dad’s text thread for the information. Lois lowers the pad to the counter, places the pen on top. Fiddles with it until it’s lined up with the top of the form perfectly.

Then Joel looks up, and she smiles again.

“Not for you, then?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Just the messenger.”

“Got it. Well, you know what you’re doing. Let me know if you need anything.”

Lois takes a step back, eyes still on Joel, who smiles politely, then swipes the form from the desk and takes a seat between Steel-Toe Boots and some tall, leafy plant that he has to bat away when he sits down. He’s copying the site address, phone resting on his thigh, when the receptionist speaks again.

“How’s Sarah doin’? She home yet?”

“Yeah,” Joel replies, “been home a couple weeks now. She’s been in Nashville this weekend.”

Lois lifts her head, blinking slowly. “Nashville. Nice. So, you’ve had a weekend to yourself.”

He scoffs. “Yeah,” he croaks.

“And what does Joel Miller get up to when he has an empty house for a few days?”

His fingers squeeze around the pen, pushing deeper into the paper. His expression hardens. “Nothing excitin’ enough to share. Sat by the pool yesterday. Was nice out.”

She agrees. “Sure was. You have company?”

Joel shakes his head once. Blinks the image of you and your red bikini from his vision. Focuses on dragging the pen one digit at a time across the line labeled Phone Number. If he cared enough, he’d give the obvious hint a couple seconds’ consideration, even just to protect Lois’s pride a little.

But he doesn’t care. And right now, he ain’t interested in protecting anyone but you.

“Nope. Just me ‘n a few beers.”

“Better off that way,” a hoarse, forty-cigs-a-day voice rasps from his right. “Less fuckin’ problems.”

Joel’s jaw rotates a degree towards the work boots; notices the folds of dry, leathery skin piled atop the raised gray eyebrows of their owner, and then turns back silently.

Lois clears her throat awkwardly. “Well, I spent the day with my book. I’m readin’ a Colleen Hoover. Adam’s at camp, so – quiet house for me, too.”

Joel finds himself nodding. Autopilot. He’s pretending he’s listening.

You’re still in his sight, wandering over from the sliding kitchen doors, a bottle in each hand. He can hardly see you when he looks up, the sun’s so bright. You hold a beer out, condensation dripping down your fingers towards Joel’s when he takes it, and then you slump down in the sun lounger next to his.

His arm reaches across, and your small fingers wrap and then unwrap around his, running across his knuckles, nails lightly scratching his worked hands. And he’s smiling, and he doesn’t even notice it until his eyes meet yours and you laugh, and he asks, What? through a chuckle, and you say, Nothin’, you just look happy.

Your dimpled blush blurs back into checkboxes and scrawled handwriting. You’re gone again. He’s in a white office, and the gentle lapping of the water on the pool’s edge fades into the headache noise of a fan humming, and he feels the warmth of your gaze on his skin turn into the cold, harsh spotlight glare of Lois’s eyes on him.

He looks up. She’s still smiling. At this point, he finds it fucking unnerving.

He rises from his chair, swings a wandering leaf from that ugly green plant out of his way and paces back over to the desk, sliding the pad back across to her. Their hands brush as she takes it from his grip, and he pulls his wrist close to his body. Lois doesn’t seem to notice.

She’s running the pen down the form, checking everything he’s filled in. Her tongue moves around the inside of her cheek, sucking on a hard candy. “Delivery on Friday?” she double checks, and Joel nods. “Alright,” she says, tearing away his copy, “we’ll call ya.”

“’ppreciate it,” he mumbles, folding the paper into his back pocket.

She turns, reaching to slip the form into a blue tray, and Joel pauses. Thinks to say something – he hopes Adam has a fun time at camp, or that Lois enjoys the rest of her quiet week. But then he sees you sat opposite him, staring fixedly at the plate before you, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. He feels your hand laced in his, hears your laugh still ringing in his ears.

He misses you. He should never have left you. You matter more to him than some equipment for a site. Matter more to him than anything. He should’ve never fucking left.

Joel nods. Reaches for the handle of the door. Glances back to Lois. “There a florist anywhere near here?”

----------

He pulls the truck in alongside the florist. Teal window frames, a little pink door. He can hear you now. How fucking cute is that store? Give me your phone, I gotta get a picture. Mine’s is in my bag in the back. Look, the traffic’s movin’, Joel, give me your phone – quick!

His fingers hook around the silver door handle. He pats his jeans once – wallet’s right there – and goes to pull, when his cell vibrates from the center console. He can see himself in the glass screen, your dad’s name written across the reflection of his forehead.

He bites down on his lip. Hard. Glances up to the road ahead. Blinks. And decides to answer.

“Joel,” your dad chirps down the line. “Sorry, buddy, you’ll be sick a’ the sight ‘n sound of me today.”

Joel manages a convincing laugh. “What’s up?”

“Just makin’ sure you’re rememberin’ to put Friday’s date down for delivery on that order. We’re gonna need the stuff over the weekend, so.”

“Yep. Just been to do it right now. Friday’s date, Harvey’s site, your card details ‘n everything.”

“’attaboy. Good job. You’re all grown up.”

“Funny.”

“Thanks, pal. I appreciate it. There wasn’t no chance I was gettin’ time to do it myself,” he lowers his voice, “I’m still stuck here with Kelman.”

Joel’s fingers trace around his steering wheel. “Oh, yeah? He keepin’ you busy?”

“You bet. Had to haggle with ‘im just to get a lunch break. Speakin’ of – I swung by the house and that daughter of mine wasn’t home. Haven’t seen or heard from her since yesterday mornin’. I’m just checkin’ she ain’t stop by to see Sarah or som’?”

His fingers lock tight around the leather. “Sarah’s still in Nashville, she gets in tonight. Couldn’t tell you where yours is. I’m not home yet, so.”

It’s a half-truth. He could wager a pretty good guess, but he can’t be certain, can he?

Your dad chuckles down the line. “She spent the night at Anna’s. My house must be like prison to her – she’s never around anymore. I’ll hear from her soon, I’m sure. Alright. Thanks, again, Joel.”

He drops the phone back into the cupholder with a sigh, leaning back against the headrest to stare at the roof of the truck. He’s still picturing you in his living room, head turning to the street at every sound of a car door, or tires rolling by. And then the image is marred by your dad, peering in the window back at you, catching you wrapped up in a situation you shouldn’t be in.

He doesn’t want your dad to find out. For obvious reasons. Because it would mean the collapse of their friendship, the collapse of the world they built between them – for you, for Sarah, for themselves. Comfortability, and normalcy, and routine and order all thrown to the wind on account of some month-long fling.

But more important than all of that: it would mean dragging you into all of that, too. Fucking up your relationship with your dad. Making things weird between you and Sarah. Ruining whatever’s left of what you and Joel had, before you both took it too far.

And if he doesn’t want all that – if he doesn’t want your dad finding out – then something has to change. Something’s gotta stop.

His fingers wrap tight around the key and turn, and the truck jumps to life. He turns away from the teal-colored florist as he pulls off.

----------

You take it about as well as he reckoned you might. About as well as you should, given the circumstances. He isn’t surprised, and he doesn’t blame you. He’s probably on your side, when you argue back with him.

“You’re not serious, right? Joel. You’re not –”

“Kid, I…”

“No. What? Because of a fucking bag?”

He lifts his gaze and pleads with you. “Because of the lying.”

You’re right, with your response: it’s never been an issue until now. He’s been more than fucking happy to sneak off, take you as his own, and then return with a satisfied grin and a mouth full of excuses to feed your company. He almost agrees.

It’s just: this time, your dad’s at your heels like a bloodhound. A little less sharp, maybe. Blind as a fucking bat, sure. But he can smell something’s up. And he’s circling it, nose to the ground, drawing nearer and nearer to the pair of you with each step.

You ask if he wants to tell the truth. That thought scares him just as much. Knocks him back a few steps. No, he doesn’t want to come clean.

The words fly back and forth like a tennis match. Too fast for him to keep control of what he’s saying and how you’re hearing it. He wants to break it off – is there anything to break off? – but he doesn’t want to lose you – how can you lose something you never had? – and then: did he ever have you in the first place?

You’re standing over him, between his knees. “End it,” you tell him. “I’ll go.”

There’s a casualness in the loose shrug of your shoulders that scares him more than the prospect of you actually leaving. How easy it looks like it could be, for you to just wander out. Sling your bag over your shoulder and revert back to the start of the summer, when he was just a ride home after a rainy day at work.

Forget how to touch him the way he’s certain only you can, forget the secret language between you, forget every stolen glance and whispered word and every thought that ever translated from your brain to his as easy as they would pass between your lips.

“You don’t mean nothin’ to me? That what you think?” He’s laughing. Disbelief, fear, shock. Whichever one it is, it pulls across his cheeks painfully. Somehow, you’ve ended up at the foot of his bed.

“Well, what else am I supposed to take from this, asshole? That you’re fuckin’ in love with me?”

It’s cold water over an already-dying fire. The words smother into ash on his tongue. No more come to the front. He just stares at you. His phone starts to chitter out into the silence between you.

You take a step forward. Your voice is low. “You don’t get to do this, you know. You don’t get to pull me in and then drop me…once you’re done with me.”

“Don’t.”

It’s not much, but it soars from the pit of his stomach, through his throat and past his lips like a final arrow. All he can muster up.

“Don’t.”

There’s a weight where the words originate from. Something deep in his gut, an ache pulling its way upward, swelling across his chest. His ears are screaming.

Of all the things you might think – he’s an asshole, he’s a liar, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing – the worst one would be that he spent this entire time leading you on. Making you feel special. Making you think you were something to him.

You are something to him. You’re – you’re fucking everything to him. It’s why he’s doing this, right? Going against every instinct, every gut feeling. To protect you. To do what’s right by you. He’s not fucking done with you. He wonders if he’ll ever go another day in his life without thinking about you.

“I can’t read your mind anymore…” you whisper, and his lungs steal a breath. His lack of response flattens your expression.

Joel might not be done, but you are.

He can feel you slipping from his grasp like sand through his knuckles. Each grain rocking itself loose, choosing to throw itself to the depths below rather than spend another second wrapped in his clutch.

He’s trying so desperately to hold onto you. Listen to me, he thinks, and he knows you can’t hear him anymore. Because now you’re really going – you’re tripping out of his room. Your heel catches on the threshold, like one last-ditch attempt from fate to pull you back into him, but you stop yourself and spin, fleeing down the hallway.

He takes a loose grasp of your wrist, fingers barely meeting on the other side of your skin before you tear it away from him like he’s scalded you. The look on your face makes him think for a moment that he might actually have done it – burned you. Pained you. Raised the skin below your gentle palm in a furious, red glow.

He’s swapping words out like they’re tools, each one immediately breaking and being flung back into the box. He’s trying any combination, any useless, futile order of words to make you stop in your tracks. You know how much I care about you, ‘s why I’m doin’ it, baby, come back, we can talk about this.

And he opens his mouth to give voice to the only words he knows would stop you – the reason why he’s doing it in the first place, the only thought he’s had anytime he’s looked at you for the last couple weeks. He opens his mouth to say it, or say something like it, when the machine silences the ringtone and the pair of you, too.

Her voice is like ice down the back of his shirt. He stares at the machine, red light blinking like a rag to a bull. He could walk over to it and smash the ever-loving fuck out of it with his fists until it’s dust on his coffee table. Until it shuts the fuck up, stops interfering with his fucking business.

And then he thinks about Lois, and her cream blouse, and her red nails, and her big, blue eyes, and her soft drawl and everything about her that is so entirely opposite to everything about you.

And how much – despite how nice and friendly, or funny and good-natured she is – how much he hates her right now, and how much he fucking loves you.

But you’re gone, now. Washed away by the tide. No more sand in Joel’s palm.

He tries to stop it. Tries to wind back a little, tries to make the sea cough up what it just stole from him. Give her back, you fuck. His eyes are stinging like salt water. Why are they stinging? There’s a roaring in his ears – the waves laughing in his face. Sickly and deafening.

He’s doing his best to keep a hold on his trembling voice. He knows he sounds pathetic. But yours is louder, stronger, steadier. And when you talk, it’s with an air of finality. Like you’re turning over the horizon. The last time he’ll ever see you again.

“I’ll see you ‘round, Joel.”

----------

He doesn’t call or text you that night. He doesn’t know what he’d say. Doesn’t even know where he’d begin. You’re mad, and Joel figures you got every right to be. This entire thing – today, this weekend, the whole month you’ve been together – is one big fucking mess.

He spends the afternoon hunched over his kitchen table, trying to distract himself with work. Twirling a pencil between his fingers, reading three, four, sometimes five times over the same building plans before deciding that the words and numbers won’t fucking sink in. He leaves them strewn across the table, wanders aimlessly upstairs and takes a cold shower.

Sarah’s flight gets in at 8PM. Joel’s sat curbside, truck engine humming, scanning every single figure that walks out of the airport building. When he spots the gray hoodie, the brown hair tied back with a pink scrunchie, the much-too-big-for-four-days-away suitcase rolling at her heels, he gets out.

She hugs her friends, they nod in passing greeting to him, and she skips over.

“Hey,” he breathes as she wraps her arms around his waist. “How was your flight? Saw you comin’ in.”

She shrugs in response. “I’m hungry. Wanna go get McDonald’s?”

Joel grumbles, slotting her case in the back of the truck. “You don’t wanna get home? Take a shower first? You smell like plane.”

“Ha! No.”

She opens the passenger side door and hoists her foot up on the seat, retying her sneaker. Joel’s already in and buckled up, hands on the wheel, watching her blue nails loop the laces.

“There’s one, like, ten minutes away.”

He’s shaking his head. “We got food in the house.”

Her gaze lifts. Her foot drops. “Oh, c’mon, it’s on the way home. We’ll be, like, five minutes. I just got off a two-hour flight, dude, right through dinner. I’m starving, I –”

“Would you just get in the damn truck, Sarah?”

It’s shorter, snappier, angrier than he meant. But he’s parked in the middle of the packed pick-up area, and the rattling of suitcase wheels and the whistling of cab drivers and the fucking roaring of planes overhead are making the headache behind his eyes worse.

Sarah freezes, one arm still leaning on the doorframe. “Jesus. What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” Joel mutters, shaking his head. “Sorry. Just – get in.”

“No need to be an asshole about it,” she murmurs, pulling herself up into the passenger seat.

Joel’s face is in his hands, elbows atop the steering wheel. “I’m not tryna be an asshole,” he says into his palms.

His daughter looks at him. Concerned. “Somethin’ happen? While I was gone?”

He shakes his head again.

Nothing happened.

He’s quiet the rest of the night. The rest of the week. Sarah notices, he knows she does, because she pries. In her own way. She’s smarter than he is. Less obvious.

She’s already up and in the kitchen when he rises on Tuesday morning. Spins around at the toaster, tells him the machine’s ready for his coffee. Asks if he wants her to make it. Asks if he wants any breakfast.

Thanks, kiddo. No, I’ll get it. No, you’re good, thanks.

They sit opposite one another in silence, save for the crunching of Sarah’s toast. He can feel her eyes on him, same way he felt Lois’s. Trying to burrow deep inside, take a look at his brain. Catch a glimpse of the words he’s thinking over and over and over.

There ain’t no words, though. It’s just images. Video replay of your back as you strode down his driveway, the way the wind caught your hair and brushed your cheek, the way your hand came up to wipe your tears. And the way he stood there, like a fucking idiot, and did nothing.

His chest hurts any time he thinks about you. Pulls in, knits itself together in knots. He’s good at pushing feelings down, good at turning them away from the sunlight like faded pebbles. But this is different. It’s a different kind of hurt.

It’s unresolved, it’s an open wound. It’s you. And it’s every time he hears REO Speedwagon, every time he pulls a flannel over his shoulders and catches the scent of your perfume on it, every time he’s flicking through the TV and catches a flash of a hospital setting, it’s a pair of hands deep inside the wound, pulling it a little wider.

It aches. It stings and it aches and it winds.

And then he turns the pebbles around. Back to the shade. Over and over and fucking over.

On Wednesday night, he caves. Asks Sarah if she’s spoken to you.

She’s chewing on a slice of pizza; licks the grease from her fingertips before she answers. “Not really. She’s been quieter than usual. Why?”

“She’s been quieter than usual?” he repeats, playing off the way his head shot up by looking straight back down at the pizza box.

Sarah narrows her eyes. “Yeah. I figure she’s working a lot.”

“Right. Right.”

“She gets tired of being in the house all the time, I think. Getting treated like a kid still. So I guess the more time she can spend outta there, the better.”

Joel nods slowly. He already knows that much.

Sarah studies him. Watches his hands as he dabs a pizza crust into the dip. When he tosses it in his mouth, he looks back up at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says. “You want the last slice?”

“You take it,” he mutters, sitting back and wiping his hands on a napkin. “I’m stuffed.”

She hums, reaching forward. “Whatever it is,” she says, pulling the dough apart, “that’s got you this down –”

“Ain’t nothin’ got me down, kiddo.”

“– whatever it is,” she continues, “I bet it works itself out.”

Sarah stands up, taking her water with her, and wanders out of the kitchen.

----------

Joel struggles through another sleepless night, Thursday through Friday. His eyes don’t close over once. He hauls himself out of bed early in the morning, forces a black coffee down his throat, and heads off to work.

He’s up at some new client in Waco. Andrew Curtis – or, well, Andrew Curtis’s father, but Joel’s been dealing primarily with the son, and the guy’s a fucking imbecile. Doesn’t know his head from his ass, probably. And he has a voice like nails on a damn chalkboard, and his shirt’s untucked around the back, but Joel ain’t got a tone kind enough, or half the wordsmanship, or an ounce of energy to tell him.

Anyway – he spends all day at this dusty site, trying to work and instead, thinking about whatever the fuck you’re doing. Wherever you are, whoever you’re with. It’s almost seven by the time he’s leaving, packing up his truck and watching Andrew Curtis across the yard. He’s spotted his own shadow; he’s twisting around to reach the ducktail poking out from above his belt loops.

Joel thinks to call you about it on the way home. Tell you all about the guy: his dry conversation, his flannel, the fact he kept calling Joel Joe all day. He figures it would make you laugh, least the way he’d tell it, and he reckons that’s exactly what you need right now. That’s exactly what he needs, right now.

When Clark’s call him, he dials your dad. Has his ear blown half to hell by the speakerphone. Learns midway through the conversation that you’re right there in the car, too, and bites back a stream of incoherent, senseless words. Settles for a quiet reminder: he’s right here if you need him.

He doesn’t expect you to take him up on it. Knows you got better things to do than deal with some asshole who’d rather break your heart than have a few difficult conversations. You’re probably having fun, probably finally feeling good again. You’re probably fine.

But still. He doesn’t sleep that night, either.

It’s just gone two when Anna calls. He’s lying in bed, some shopping network on loop on the TV. His tired eyes bore into the screen, defocusing over the pixels, not watching nor listening and barely fucking breathing until he picks up the phone. Her voice is panicked, shrill, and shaking so much he wonders if his own phone is trembling with it.

“Mr. Miller?” she asks, and Joel sits up. “Got your number from Yelp. ‘m sorry it’s so late, it’s…oh, fuck – it’s, like, 2AM.”

“Anna,” Joel says hoarsely. Get to the fuckin’ point.

“Right. Sorry. It’s just…we kinda have a…situation, here.”

It’s you. He fucking knows it’s you. His heart begins to hammer. He doesn’t give a fuck whether she puts two and two together or not when he asks –

“Where is she?”

“We’re still at Frank’s,” Anna says, sniffing. He can hear the booming bassline of music, muffled; the sharper chatter of voices. She’s on the street. In his head, he can see her shoulders hunched; her bare arms wrapped around her body for warmth. She goes to say it again. “We’re still at –”

“’n where is she?” Joel cuts, and she finally cracks.

In one long, drawn breath, she spills. “She was fucked from the second we walked in here; she drank too much too quick, Mr. Miller – Joel,” she says when he corrects her, “and then she just – I dunno, she just – fucking disappeared with these guys, me ‘n Kara never saw ‘em in our lives – and they went upstairs we think, and she came back smelling like weed, and then this guy – he just, like, scooped her off, Mr. M– I mean Joel, like, totally dragged her away, and then –”

“Who–? Anna – Anna, wait,” Joel says, shushing her between her rambling, trying to rein in what she’s saying. When she finally shuts up, he speaks slowly and calmly. “Who dragged her away?”

“We don’t fuckin’ know!” she almost shrieks down the line. It cuts out for a second and Joel’s heart stops dead.“– so we don’t know,” she says when her voice filters back through into his ear, “but Sam said he saw the dude drop something in her bottle when he turned away. A pill or something.”

Joel’s body tenses. Freezes solid, with the blood in his veins. His eyes fix on one spot on his dresser: the loose handle that sits a little squint. He stares at it until his peripheral starts to blur.

“He – say that again?”

“He roofied her, we think. But we can’t fucking find them. Sam and Kara are in there just now looking. The guy pulled her away, that’s what I’m tryna say!”

“Right,” whispers Joel, nodding. He drags a heavy hand over his eyes, tries to push the image of you in danger out of his head for one second so he can figure out what to do.

Anna doesn’t hear him. She keeps talking. “…and then Sam said she told him not to call her dad, but I had to call someone, y’know? You’re the only person I think she wouldn’t – I think she wouldn’t mind me callin’. Please.”

He’s already halfway down the stairs, arms pushing through the sleeves of his shirt. He keeps the phone against his cheek when he bends to reach for his boots, ties them loose and grabs his keys.

“You call me as soon as you find her, you hear? I’m on my way,” he tells Anna, and hangs up.

He’s panicking. Fear, transferred between her cell and his, creeping over his shoulders, wrapping long, cold fingers around his throat. He’s panicking. He’s panicking. He never panics. Where the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you with?

There’s barely any traffic on the road, but the drive takes for-fucking-ever. The lights at the side of the road blur into long, thin streaks of orange. His hands are tight around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. Your name lies loose on his lips.

He pulls up right outside the bar. There are small clusters of people, congregated tight together under the streetlights; cigarettes hanging from lips, bottles loose in hands. He shoves by them on his way to the door. Some guy shuffles out of his way, looking up to cuss Joel out and quickly dipping his head again when he locks eyes with the grizzly expression.

He shoves the door open with his shoulder, and spots you instantly.

----------

His knuckles are throbbing. Skin stretching anytime he moves his hand, searing hot and sharply stinging across the bone. Your touch is the only thing soothing them right now.

He got two good punches in. Just two. Burst the guy’s nose. He would’ve kept going, had he not been in a bar full of people – people who knew who he was – and had you not been stood behind him, body liquid-like from how much you were swaying.

But he has you home now. Up in your room, settled in bed. You’re safe. You’re with him.

You’re fucking wasted. Like, can barely lift a glass of water to your lips unaided wasted. He spent the entire drive watching over you, stealing glances when your head turned or your eyes lulled closed, checking you were still awake, still talking, still fucking breathing.

Whatever that asshole gave you, you don’t seem to have had enough for it to do too much damage. The alcohol is the real culprit. Though you were cognitive enough to yell at him over Lois in the kitchen, which relieved him for a second before it fucking crushed him. He’s lying awake right now – listening to the sound of your snoring – replaying the argument in his head. Over and over.

You’re an asshole and a liar. Just stringing me along this whole time.

He’s some awful cocktail of angry and terrified and fucking heartbroken. You’re lying inches from him, your hand resting softly on top of his, and yet – you’re miles away. The space between you both – fragmented, treacherous.

In a perfect world, he’d have wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He’d have pulled you against his weight, against his strong, steady form. And he’d have walked you, as slow as you needed, out of the bar and to his truck. Maybe laughing. Maybe singing.

He’d have told you everything was fine, told you he loved you, told you he was gonna get you home, make you feel better. He’d hold you until the sun came up, and then hold you until it went back down.

He’d love you. And you’d let him.

Maybe that world doesn’t exist, Joel thinks. And maybe that’s for the better.

It fucking hurts, though. Stings like a hot blade through his chest. All this time, messing around, pretending there was nothing more to it. Letting his feelings through like water in a fucking dam. It was bound to break eventually.

And maybe he really thought, even just for a fleeting moment, there could be something here. Something worth holding onto. More than two idiots messing around, more than sex and secrecy.

He didn’t even realize. Didn’t notice the shift. When did he start feeling…more? When did it cross that line?

He’s staring at the end of your bed. Thinking about you under him, gripping onto his shirt, his hand between your legs. The very first time. And every other fucking time since then. Which one was the threshold? Who pushed who?

His ringtone bursts through the silence, making him jump. His arm swings to fish it from the nightstand, swiping to answer before he’s even read who’s calling, just to shut the thing up.

“Hello?” he murmurs.

“Hey, Joe? Uh, I mean, Joel? It’s Andrew Curtis here.”

He rolls his eyes. For fuck’s sake. “Mornin’, Andrew.”

“Hi. Sorry, I know it’s super early. I’m just checkin’ we’re still good to go. I got my guys ready, we’re rarin’ to get goin’ whenever you are.”

Joel clears his throat, pushing slowly off the plush mattress, resting your hand on the sheets. “Yeah, uh…” He slips out of your room, hopping over to the bathroom and closing the door over. “…I had a, uh…a family emergency durin’ the night. I’m gonna be a little late, but I’ll be there.”

“Oh, gee, I hope everything’s alright?”

He phrases it like he wants Joel to clue him in. He considers for a second actually saying, Yeah, my best friend’s daughter – who I’ve been sleeping with for the last month – got plastered at a bar – Frank’s, local place, you heard of it? – because I broke things off with her – but I didn’t want to, I was just tryna be fuckin’ noble – and I went and picked her up, punched a guy who was tryna hurt her, because guess what, Andrew – I’m in fuckin’ love with her.

He sums it up with: “Yeah. Everything’s fine now. Thanks.”

“Alright, well, great news! Call me when you’re twenty minutes out, I’ll have the guys here for you arrivin’. Safe journey, Joe!”

Joel breathes an Uhuh and hangs up, holding the bridge of his nose. He has a headache, like he’s the one who’s been drinking. It’s only going to get worse, too, heading off to go spend his Saturday with Andrew fucking Curtis and his loose flannel.

The sun’s rising slowly, lighting the hall in a warm glow. Joel pads quietly into your room and pulls the cover back over his side of the mattress. You stir; your head jerks only to move some hair from your face, and then you sigh, sleep pulling you back into its arms.

He watches you for a second. Wishes he could run a light hand down your cheek, kiss your head. Whisper a goodbye, the same way you did to him almost a week ago.

He shakes the thought, collecting his boots from the floor. His hand hovers over his shirt for a moment. And then he lifts it by the collar, lays it neatly on the pillow by your head, and leaves. You can keep it, trash it, burn it. But it’s yours. Everything about him is yours.

In the kitchen, he stands by the sink, nursing a cup of coffee. It’s a quarter to six. This early on a Saturday, he figures he’ll be in Waco by seven, seven-thirty latest. His eyes fix on the spot you two stood last night, yelling back and forth about Lois. She seems so far away, now. He can barely remember the shape of her face, the sound of her voice.

His grip tightens around the mug. He places it in the sink, and grabs his keys. As he passes the stairs, he pauses. Leans on one foot, head tilted to listen out for any sound of life. Any fucking sound – the creak of a floorboard, the squeak of a door handle. Anything to keep him here. Anything.

Nothing comes. No sound, no movement, no you.

He closes the front door gently on his way out.

----------

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[princessxt]

Oii julia, queria pedir um aaron hotcher em que a filha dele estivesse na fase rebelde e saísse escondido de casa e algo acontece, obgd desde já q você cresça mt

You can make a request in the comments or by asking me a question!

You can see the list of who I write about here

like and follow to encourage me to keep posting<33

Stay with me

Pairing(s): Aaron Hotchner x Daugther!Reader

Gender: Angst

Warnings: Blood, torture, mention of death, criminal minds stuff

——————♥︎♥︎——————

Having a teenager at home wasn't easy, and Aaron Hotchner knew that. Y/n had just lost her mother, and was dealing with it in a natural way, rebelling against her father. Aaron tried everything to ease the pain of loss for her children, spending more time with them and putting them in therapy. This worked for a while, but later, her daughter's rebelliousness got out of her control. She left and only came back late, leaving her father worried, remembering the cases of dead teenagers that he had already worked with. She said that all her father's concern was nonsense, until one night, she ends up realizing that her father was right.

The Bau team was on a case,in Quantico. 4 teenagers had been tortured and killed, this messed with Aaron's mind, remembering his daughter, who was alone at home with her younger brother, Jack.

There were few clues in the case, and what affected Aaron the most were the similarities between the victims, who also looked like Y/n.

"It could be revenge. With the similarity between them. The killer sees the victims as someone who did him wrong in the past, so he takes revenge." Morgan says, twirling a pen in his hand as he examines case files.

"The killer could have been a victim of bullying in childhood by a girl with those characteristics. Or even been attacked by a woman like that." Spencer moves away from the board where he has photos of the victims pasted.

Aaron could barely focus on what was in front of him. He stood up and excused himself from his companions, ignoring their questions about his well-being.

He hurriedly enters his office and picks up his phone, dialing his home phone number. After a few seconds of calling, the phone is answered, and on the other end of the line he can hear his youngest son's voice saying "hello.".

"Hi honey, where's your sister?" He relaxes his shoulders after realizing that his youngest was okay. Little did he know what was coming.

"She's not here yet. I thought she warned you." Aaron's shoulders soon tensed again. His breathing hitched and his hands began to sweat.

"She hasn't arrived yet? Are you sure? Has she looked in her room yet?" He stutters, hoping that his son just didn't notice the older girl's arrival.

"I'm sure. The room is empty. I'm alone here" The boy says on the other end of the line. This couldn't be happening.

"Okay dear. Go to Aunt Sharon's house. And stay with her until I call." He tells the child to go to the neighbor's house, who was already an acquaintance of the agent. The phone is hung up and Aaron goes to the Garcia's room, knocking on the door and receiving permission to enter shortly afterwards.

"Wow, you're pale, is everything okay?" Garcia asks seeing the chef's condition.

"I need you to track Y/n's phone. She's not home yet." Aaron sees Garcia's face tense up and she immediately goes to her computer, typing quickly, But Aaron wasn't paying attention to that.

He only remembered the details of the case, and was afraid that a photo of his daughter would be the next to be placed on the victims board.

Meanwhile, Garcia anxiously typed on the computer, afraid of where Y/n was.

Not long after, she manages to track the phone.

"She's in a dead end on the street near the center. I think you should go check with Morgan or Emily." She turns to look at Aaron, but he was already out of the room, heading to his car. Garcia, worried, goes to the room where the other agents were and tells everyone what was possibly happening.

With Aaron, he drove fast, without thinking about the traffic laws he was breaking, at that moment, only his daughter's safety mattered.

Arriving at the dead end, he gets out of the car slamming the door behind him and goes to the end, finding his daughter's backpack thrown on the floor, along with her coat and her phone. Near his daughter's items was a piece of cloth , with a strong smell of alcohol and a few drops of blood near him. Aaron could feel the floor heave below his feet.

Fear ran down his spine. He felt like he was being shot when he understood what happened there. He was motionless, unresponsive as he held his daughter's coat, and could still smell the sweet smell of her perfume.

Behind him, Emily and Derek arrive and observe the scene, I understand what was happening.

"Hotch" Derek comes close to him and subtly touches his shoulder, while Emily calls the rest of the team to talk about what happened.

"He took my daughter." That was the only thing Aaron could say.

Y/n was smart and did something that would help the investigations before being taken. Her father always taught her and her brother self-defense. When she realized what would happen, she fought with the suspect and managed to injure him, making his blood drip onto the floor. This led the team to discover his identity.

"Garcia, find any place that has anything to do with him. It could be a family member's house."JJ tells Garcia while examining everything he had on the suspect.

It didn't take long for the blonde to find an old house far enough away that a person could scream and no one would hear.

All the agents were apprehensive when they arrived at the scene. They didn't know what they would find inside.

When they entered, the agents saw a horrible scene. Y/n was sitting in a chair, with her arms and legs tied, tape covering her mouth. There were bloody tools everywhere. Blood that was probably the girl's, who had cuts all over his body.

She raises her head, seeing the movement in front of her and her gaze goes to her father. Before she could say anything, all the agents point their weapons behind her.

The suspect gets closer to Y/n and puts a knife to the girl's throat before they can react.

"John, don't do that. She's not his sister" JJ takes over everyone and tries to negotiate with the suspect, who was neglected by his older sister during his childhood.

"She's not to blame for the things her sister did. Drop the knife and get away from her. If you hurt her, you'll be just like your sister. Do you want to be like your sister?" JJ approaches them. The suspect had tears in her eyes. Y/n looked at her father, also with tears in her eyes. Aaron watches the scene, ready to attack the suspect at any moment.

But JJ knew what he was doing, and with a few more sentences, he managed to get him to drop the knife, moving away from the younger one.

Before anything else, Aaron goes to his daughter, who can no longer hold back her tears, and sobs while her father unties her.

"I'm here, darling. Daddy's here" He removes the ropes from her body and the tape from her mouth. The girl's reaction was to fall into her father's arms, while she allowed herself to cry, finally feeling safe.

A few hours later, Y/n was already in the hospital, with her injuries treated, resting, with her father in a chair beside her holding her hand and her younger brother lying with her in bed, afraid of losing her, so how he lost his mother a few months earlier.

[skipper1331]

Butterfly // Alessia Russo

Brody Armstrong once said: "When you meet someone for the first time, that’s not the whole book. That’s just the first page" and she’s totally right. When you first met Alessia you didn’t know that quote, you could barely speak let alone read but over the years, when got older, you started to understand it. The day you met her, the first page was written and your story began. Now, Alessia and you have been together for 9 years, 3 of them married and it‘s still not finished.

age 4

You have known each other since you were 4. The two of you lived in the same street and played at the same playground.

You were building a sandcastle with 3 towers, two of them already finished when a little girl ran towards the sandbox you were sitting in. As clumsy as the girl was she stumbled over the edge of the box, falling on your towers, smashing them under her body. With wide eyes you looked at the blonde, her face full of sand "i‘m sowwy" she apologized immediately. You looked to your mother who was talking to a stranger. "That‘s my mum." the sandcastle smasher pointed at the woman next to your mother. "You broke my castle" she looked at you before filling your bucket with sand, ready to build a new castle. "I‘m Alessia"

"My name is y/n"

That day Alessia and you became friends.

age 6

Less was standing at the table, drinking something while she watched you. You were running around in the Russo garden, trying to catch a butterfly. But not only her eyes were on you but also the eyes of her mum and your mum. "She‘s my butterfly" the blonde admitted without thinking. "Lessi, she’s not a butterfly, she’s a girl." her mother said to her, not liking that she referred to you as an animal. "Then, she‘s my girl!" she put down the glass of water and ran back to you with the intention to help you catch the butterfly. It didn‘t work. Either it was too high to reach or no longer in sight so you decided to kick a ball instead.

age 10

The two of you were in training when one of your teammates stood on your ankle. It wasn’t on purpose but when the italian saw you go down, holding your ankle, crying, she ran up to you, pushing the girl away from you. She didn't want her around you any longer. "Please stop crying, butterfly" Lessi begged as she wiped the hair out of your face. "It hurts" by now the coach joined you as well, taking of your boot. You winced, Alessia instantly put her arm around shoulder, trying to comfort you and sort of protect you. Your ankle was red, surely there was going to be a bruise "Let’s get you to the sidelines, okay?" Coach said as the helped you up but you couldn‘t put weight on your foot. "I got it from here, coach" the blonde grumbled as she took your hands. "You sure?"

"Yes" when the coach walked away to the others girls Less took the matter in her own hands. "I‘m gonna carry you to the side" she stated as she picked you up with an ease. She carried you out of the way and sat you back down slowly. She sat beside you, glaring at the girl who hurt you. As a thank you you laid your head on Lessi‘s shoulder.

In that moment, Alessia promised herself to protect you forever.

age 14

When Alessia was 14 she realized she liked girls. That she liked a girl, a special girl. You. She loved the way your laugh sounded, she loved the way you smiled. She loved the way you would take care of her if she had been clumsy, she loved your kindness. She loved your eyes, the way they shone. She loved that she could make you laugh and blush. She loved you, you‘re her butterfly.

You fell in love with Alessia a long time ago, probably to a time where you didn‘t know what love was. She made you feel special.

It was after a home game when Alessia first kissed you. Alessia scored a hattrick and you scored as well. It was afternoon as her mum picked you up, "see you in 30 minutes, butterfly?" the striker asked as her mum dropped you off. She loved to call you butterfly and has done it for years now. Everybody knew. "Yes. Thanks for the ride, Carol!"

"No problem, honey"

Later that day, you met at your spot. It was a bench at the small lake your town had. "Your hattrick was amazing!" you stated proudly as she got off her bike. "Your goal was a banger though" she smiled as sat down next to you, her hair still wet. You blushed under her gaze, the tip of your ears turning red "no need to get shy, butterfly" the italian smiled while she pinched your cheeks "stop it" you whined as your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. "I- i can‘t" her hands cupped your cheek as she gazed in your eyes, getting lost in them. "Lessi" you breathed as her face inched closer. You could feel her breath against your lips. Her gaze flicked to your lips before she looked back in your eyes. As she made the final move with pushing her lips against yours you rested your hands on her knees, not knowing where else to put them. It was your first kiss with Alessia and your first kiss in general, you didn‘t even know how to move your lips so you didn‘t and neither did Lessi. "Oh my god," she whispered as she pulled apart "i‘m so sorry." Quickly, she grabbed her bike and cycled home, leaving you alone at the bench. Dazed, your fingers touched the spot where Alessias lips had been a minute ago. "Wow"

age 15

Behind closed doors, you kissed multiple times a day. It was one of your favorite things to do yet you were not offically together. Sometimes she asked you to take you out on a date and sometimes you asked her but the girlfriend question has never been asked, both of you too shy.

You were hanging out at her house, sitting on her bed while she sat on the bean bag. "You don‘t know what happened today"

"Tell me, butterfly"

"You know, Josh, the dark haired guy. He asked me out" you laughed, letting your head fall into her pillow. "What?!" the striker shouted, jumping off her seat. She didn‘t find it funny at all that Josh asked you out. You, her girl, her butterfly. "What did you say?" she asked as stepped closer to you. "I said no," a sigh of relief left her body "did you think i would‘ve said yes?"

"I don‘t know?" she admitted, you weren‘t fully hers yet. "Lessi," you pulled her on to you, your fingers playing with the hem of her shirt "I want to be your girlfriend"

"Be my girlfriend, butterfly."

The two of you shared a sweet kiss, the first one of many as girlfriends.

age 16

"Do you want sleep at mine, tonight?" your girlfriend of one year asked. "My parents and brothers won‘t be home until sunday afternoon" her face turned bright red as she played with your fingers. "I would love to"

You didn‘t know why you were nervous, you had stayed at Alessias house multiple times but this time it felt different, for the both of you. "Hi, butterfly" the blonde smiled as she opened the door. "I hope you‘re hungry because i made lasagna" you stepped into her home - your second home - as she closed the door. Pressing a kiss to your temple she pulled you into the kitchen. "It looks perfect, baby"

Your girlfriend and you ate dinner on the couch while watching Mamma Mia. After finishing the dish, the empty plates rested on the coffee table. Alessia was hugging your smaller figure with her head hiding in the crook of you neck, the movie long forgotten. Your legs were tangled together while you played with her hair as she started to press kisses along your neck. "Baby" you breathed, only encouraging her to leave some hickies on your neck. Her kisses trailed up your jaw and then to your lips which she kissed passionately. Her hands held your neck while your hands made their way under her hoodie, scratching her back, occasionally running your fingers over her abs. It made her go crazy. "Do you wanna go upstairs?" she asked, wanting to take steps further with you. Her lips were just as swollen as yours. "Yeah"

In her room, she immediately started to kiss you again, grabbing your waist and pulling you in to her. Your arms looped around her neck as she walked you back against her door. She pulled on your (her) hoodie, asking If she could take it off. Within seconds you got rid of it. "You‘re so beautiful" the italian whispered as she looked over you. "Take yours off, too" - she did.

On her bed, she was hovering above you, the two of you only in your underwear. "Are you sure you want this?" she questioned, just to be sure. "Yes, lessi. Yes" you smiled at one another before you leaned up to re-connect your lips.

"I love you"

"I love you, too"

age 18

Long distance. With Lessi being at unc and you being in England, it was hard but you managed. You had to.

"Were gonna be okay even when i‘m at unc, don’t we?" Her voice was quiet, afraid of your answer. She was playing with your hair while your head rested on chest "of course we will" you stated confidently. Yes, it would be hard, maybe even horrible at times but you loved her and she loved you. "You won‘t find another girl, promise me." Your head snapped in her direction as she looked so vulnerable. "Lessi, i love you! There‘ll never be another girl, okay?" your girl nodded shyly as you whispered "i promise you" before kissing her forehead.

To be honest, your relationship had it‘s problems with her being far away. Jealousy, and longing were the two biggest problems on both sides but you communicated your feelings and worries. And in the end, it made your relationship grow stronger.

age 21

Lessi was nervous. For months, she had planned this day. Ella was her savior because she couldn‘t talk to you about it like she normally would. The italian was about to propose to you. For years, you have been her girl, her one and only. She knew you were the one, she wanted to spend forever and longer with you. The plan was simple: the two of you would visit your hometown and her brothers would distract you as long as she needed them to so that she can prepare everything at your spot. She had the blessing of your parents, from everyone that was important to you.

As she finished preparing everything, she texted in the siblings group chat.

Less

ready.

"Lessi is waiting for you" Luca said as she scanned her text. "What?" you asked confused, not understading anything. She told you she would get food. "Go to your favorite spot" Gio stated as she pushed you gently out of the door. And you did.

You saw her standing near the lake, she looked beautiful under the sun light. Rose petals were spread on the floor, music playing softly in the backround. "Baby, what’s this?" you asked, admiring everything around her. "Butterfly," she grabbed your hands, pulling you in front of her "when I was 4 I met you for the first time and when I was 14 I first realized that I liked you, I kissed you for the first time, too. In that decade you became my butterfly. I‘ve never told you why or how but that changes now. It was a summer day, you were at my house. I remember drinking some water as you chased after a butterfly. Then you became my butterfly. You‘re my biggest supporter, my number one fan, you bring the best out of me as a football player and human and I love you so much. I couldn’t have wished for a better friend, best friend and girlfriend" you were crying by now while she took a deep breath before she continued. "I want you to be my wife." As she went down on one knee, she pulled a velvet box out of her pocket "I promise you to cherish you and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make you happy so will you make me the happiest person alive, will you marry me?"

"Yes!!! A thousand times yes!"

A year later, the two of you got happily married and you could proudly call yourself Y/n Russo.

age 23, summer 2022

"We‘re champions!" you shouted as you jumped on Lessi who hugged you like her life was depending on it. "We did it" she mumbled into your neck, still completely in shock. When your feet touched the ground, you didn‘t let go of your wife and neither did she. Surrounded by your own little bubble, you only cared for one another in this moment. As Alessia pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead your little bubble was broken by an Ella Toone. She jumped on both of you, one leg around Less' hip and one around yours as she hugged you in a death grip.

Each lioness was drunk as hell. Everyone had their jerseys on and their medal around their necks as they danced. "I‘m so proud of you" you whispered against your lovers lips. "I love youuu" she replied in her drunken state, twirling you around. "My name on your back always does things to me" she almost moaned, her fingers tracing over the letters of her - your - name.

Both of you felt at peace, surrounded by each other, your family and friends. It was a night to remember.

age 24

The world cup dream came true. Less and you were in the squad. As you heard the news you squealed, jumped up and down, ran through your home. Your bodies were filled with pure joy.

The first night in Australia was wow. You couldn‘t believe that you were actually here. Also that the two of you shared a room was amazing; waking up and going to sleep in each others arms.

When your off day came by you slept a little longer than you normally would. Lessi had her arm around you, already awake as she traced her finger over your tattoo. Shortly after the euros, you decided to get matching tattoos so now there rested the 23 on your collarbone while she got a butterfly at the same spot on her body. It was nothing big but it held so much meaning behind it.

Your story began 20 years ago and still hasn't come to an end nor does it intend to end as you promised one another in your vows.

Each day, the story of the 23 and butterfly will continue.

—————————

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (5/?)

Part summary: With Leigh, it feels like for every step forward, you end up taking two steps back.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.600+ | Warnings Some angst, het stuff | A/N: Texts in italic indicate they happened in the past. We get an insight about R's past with Matt and a little surprise at the end.

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Next part

-

You'd hardly expect to meet a decent guy on the street nowadays.

Though, to be fair, it's less about meeting him and more about running straight into him. At the moment, you don't give it much thought. You distinctly remember wincing from the impact, feeling solid muscle and jutting bones, and a surge of irritation bubbles up inside you because you're not exactly having the best day. But then, the man you ran into looks up, and his face is all apologies. 

He looks like he might cry if you don't forgive him, so you do. As you stand there, trying to process the situation, he notices the coffee spilled all over the floor—your coffee, which has now created a sad, dark puddle around your feet.

“Can I buy you another coffee?”

Despite the kind gesture, you find yourself shaking your head, more keen on changing out of your coffee-stained coat than sticking around any longer.

From a few steps away, his impatient friend calls out, “Are you coming, Matt?”

“Yeah, just wait a sec,” Matt responds, his attention still on you. You usually don’t trust men running into you without an agenda, but there’s something about him that tells you he didn’t mean to, and that he’s more than willing to make up for it.

“No, thanks. I got it…”

He looks unnecessarily worried as he leans in a bit closer. “You sure about that?” he asks. 

His brown eyes are the friendliest pair you’ve seen in a while. And being essentially alone in this new town, they pull you in like gravity.

“Y-Yes. Just watch where you’re going next time,” you stammer, attempting to stabilize your shaky legs.

“Matt!”

Matt nods hesitantly, then mumbles, “Sorry, I have to go. Again, I'm really sorry,” before his gaze releases you, and you feel its force that held you in a vice-like grip easing away. 

As you're walking away, you keep having to tell yourself not to look over your shoulder, even though every part of you kind of wants to.

You guess you must be really lonely, to cling onto the first bit of kindness someone throws your way.

-

Your deliberate attempts to bump into Leigh finally pay off one brisk Friday morning. But it’s not in the way you’ve imagined it would go.

The town is just waking up, the chill in the air biting at your cheeks as you take your routine jog through the quiet streets. You've discovered that running suits you better than yoga, mainly because it's something you can do solo, and you've always leaned towards activities where you can be by yourself. You’re tired, but you try to lift your knees higher with every stride, keeping your cadence in check.

Turning a corner, a sudden commotion catches your attention. A group of rowdy teenagers barrel down the sidewalk, loud and oblivious to anything but their own world. One of them, a bit too caught up in the fun, nearly crashes into you, forcing you to swerve unexpectedly.

In your effort to dodge, you step right into the path of Leigh Shaw. 

It all happens too fast; there's no chance for either of you to do anything else. You crash into each other, the impact sending a jolt through your bodies. You tumble sideways, your arm shooting out instinctively, breaking your fall and softening the impact as you land. Leigh lets out a sharp yelp as she staggers forward from the force of the collision, a look of shock quickly spreading across her face. As she falls, her knee scrapes against the rough concrete, and when she finally sits up, there's a noticeable gash, bleeding freely.

“Oh my god, I am so, so sorry,” you blurt out, horrified at the sight. “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

She grimaces, glancing at her knee, then back at you. “Well, I've definitely been better,” she says, trying to keep her voice light despite the pain. You give her a hand up, and as she leans on you for support, you can't help but notice she's dressed in denim shorts, a blue parka, and flip-flops—not exactly the attire for a morning jog. The sun's just starting to show its face, and you're left wondering where she's headed so early, if she's not out for a run or something.

Looking around, you notice the roll-up shutters of nearby establishments are still down, indicating they won't be opening anytime soon. It’s apparent that there's nowhere immediate to find help or a first-aid kit. You scratch the back of your neck, an awkward idea coming to you.

“I don’t think there’s nowhere we can ask for help,” you start, trying not to sound too anxious about what you’re about to suggest. “I've got a first-aid kit at my place, though. It's not far. We could fix you up there, if you're okay with it?”

Leigh takes a beat, and then gives you a nod. “I guess that's my best option right now. Lead the way.”

As you start walking, Leigh instinctively grabs your arm for support. Your foot have barely hit the pavement when she suddenly grips tighter, fingers clawing into your arm as she lets out a hiss of pain. The wound must have stretched as she bent her knee to take a step, and with the way she's limping, you realize making her walk is a bad call.

“Shit, I'm really sorry,” you apologize again, the situation dawning on you. This isn't at all how you wanted to run into Leigh again, especially after trying to find a way to reconnect since the dinner in her car. “Let me get an Uber.”

Leigh starts to object, but you're already pulling out your phone. The last thing you wanted was for your attempt to help to end up hurting her more.

-

“So, where were you headed earlier?” you ask casually, hoping not to pry too much. “Doesn't seem like you were out for a run like I was.”

Leigh’s injury is more severe than you first thought; after hitting a rough patch on the pavement, her knee took the brunt of the fall. The skin is scraped away in several places, revealing angry, reddened flesh beneath. 

“Grocery, or something,” Leigh mumbles, distracted and wincing a bit as you ready another dab of antiseptic for her knee. The moment the cotton touches the wound, she can't help but jerk away slightly.

“Sorry, sorry,” you murmur, soothingly, noticing she's struggling to stay still. To help steady her, you gently hold onto her calf, and that's when you feel your cheeks start to warm up. “I'll be as quick as I can,” you promise, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I’m okay. You're doing...fine,” Leigh sighs between clenched teeth, obviously trying to downplay her discomfort. 

You know you're not fine, certainly not in the way Leigh means. All you can hear is yours and Leigh’s breathing, and your heart stuttering in your chest, because despite barely seeing Leigh in recent weeks, this annoying little crush won’t go away. It’s weird enough that she’s Matt’s wife, and you can't shake the feeling that you’re probably the last person she’d ever look at that way. Not to mention, you're not even sure if she's into women.

Once you’re done cleaning her wound, you carefully wrap a bandage around her knee. Then, you head to the fridge to grab some ice, noticing Leigh's puzzled look when you return.

“What’s that for?” she asks, tilting her head slightly.

“I have a feeling you're going to have a bone bruise after that fall,” you explain, handing her the ice wrapped in a cloth. “This should help with the pain and keep the swelling down.”

She accepts it, a small smile of gratitude on her face as she says, “Thanks.”

“No problem, it's my fault anyway.”

“It was an accident,” Leigh points out.

An accident that, if I'm being honest with myself, I was somewhat hoping for, you reflect with regret.

Leigh looks relieved as she presses the ice against her knee, eyes closing for a moment. With the immediate pain taken care of, you can't help but wonder again where she was headed earlier as you start pulling ingredients out of the fridge to whip up some breakfast.

“Hope you're hungry,” you say, flashing a smile as you fire up the stove.

“I'm fine, really,” she says, but the moment the bacon starts sizzling, she caves. “Actually, I could eat.”

With your back to her, you could smirk all you want at her change of heart. After frying up the bacon and eggs, you pull out some leftover rice and begin chopping garlic.

“What are you making?” Leigh asks suddenly from behind you.

“This is something I picked up on my travels through Southeast Asia,” you share as you cook. “Can't do bacon and eggs without it anymore. But I'll get some toast going for you.”

Leigh's face lights up, almost childlike. “Toast sounds great.”

You and Leigh settle into your meal, you with your plate of garlic rice, bacon, and eggs, and Leigh with her toast done just right alongside her bacon and eggs. She surprises you by complimenting how you cooked the eggs, noticing they're slightly burnt to a crisp around the edges.

“I've never had my eggs quite like this before,” she says.

“Oh, that?” you chuckle. “Learned the technique by accident some time ago. Got distracted and ended up leaving them on the heat a bit too long.”

She laughs too, and soon enough, you're both just talking like old friends, the conversation breezy and effortless. You begin to get a real sense of Leigh's sense of humor and it complements yours in the best way. Leigh loops back to when you mentioned visiting Southeast Asia, and you're more than happy to share your experiences, considering she's never left the country.

“...I’m pretty sure Hawaii counts, right? With the weather and everything, plus it’s really far—”

You’re still cracking up over some joke she made moments ago, and now you’re wondering if you’ll ever stop. 

“No way, Leigh, it doesn’t work like that!” you get out between laughs, holding onto your stomach as you shake with laughter.

The more you talk, the more Leigh hangs on every word, making you feel surprisingly at ease. Sharing stories about places you've been and things you've seen becomes less about bragging and more about just sharing your adventures with someone who’s really listening. It's kind of refreshing, actually, feeling this free to dive into your memories with someone so interested.

That is until the topic eventually shifts to your fitness routine. It's then that Leigh offhandedly mentions, “You'll probably see more progress with the new instructor next week. I heard she’s got a certificate and all.”

You pause, fork paused mid-air. “New instructor? You’re not leading the class next week?”

Leigh simply shakes her head no.

“Then, when are you coming back?”

Leigh takes a breath before saying, “I actually quit.”

Hearing her say she’s left the studio nearly makes you spit out your breakfast. You're halfway through a bite, trying to wrap your head around the news, when suddenly, Leigh checks her phone. Before you can even dive into a million questions about why she quit, she's saying she needs to head home.

Your thoughts are spinning, but you don’t miss the opportunity to offer her a ride.

“You drive?” Leigh looks surprised. 

“Yeah, just got the car this weekend,” you manage to say, still reeling from the shock that Leigh won't be at Beautiful Beast anymore.

“Are you sure? I can just call a cab,” Leigh mutters, probably noticing you're a bit out of it. 

“No, really, I insist,” you say. Making her walk on that knee seems like the last thing you should do. 

Leigh tries to brush it off once more, “Again, an accident.”

You ignore her, grabbing your keys from a dusty fishbowl. “Doesn't mean I won't be kicking myself over it.”

She lets out a sigh, and you can't quite tell if she's resigned or just annoyed. 

-

As you pull up in front of Leigh's house for the first time, you're immediately taken in by its typical three-bedroom layout. The lawn, however, looks like it hasn't seen a mower in quite some time, giving the place a lived-in, somewhat neglected feel. You quickly get out of the car to help Leigh to the front step.

Then, out of nowhere, Leigh curses, patting down her pockets in a panic. “Fuck, I forgot my keys.”

“But someone should be home, right?” you ask.

Leigh rings the doorbell, her expression turning sour. “Yeah, my sister,” she mutters, clearly not thrilled at the prospect.

You're taken aback when, a few seconds later, it's Jules from the studio who opens the door. The sharp look they exchange isn't lost on you; it's clear there's more to the story than just Leigh coming home without her keys. You're gearing up to say goodbye, assuming Leigh will head inside, but instead, she turns to you and says, “Wait right here.”

You do as she says, glancing at the ground, shuffling your feet back and forth.

“Hi, I'm Jules, Leigh's sister. I've seen you around at Beautiful Beast. You're one of Leigh's clients?” Jules smiles at you, politely offering a hand for you to shake. You accept it and introduce yourself in return. Watching her face, you see the moment she puts it all together. 

“Oh, you're the vet who Matt had—I'm sorry. It's just, I wasn't expecting to see you here, helping Leigh home.”

You knew where that first sentence was going, but you're silently thankful Jules decided to pull back and not finish it. You force a smile as you explain how you got here. “She was out for groceries, and I kind of ran into her, leading to a bit of a fall, and now—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Jules cuts in sharply. 

“Sorry?”

“Leigh didn't come home last night,” she says. But before you have a chance to process this new information, Leigh returns, clutching a fifty-dollar bill.

“For the trouble,” she tells you, getting in front of Jules.

You attempt to wave it off. “Hey, you don't have to do that—”

But Leigh isn't taking no for an answer, she presses the bill into your hand. You never see it coming what happens next: she plants a quick peck on your cheek, effectively shutting down any further protests. The spot where her lips brushed against your skin tingles, and it’s all you can think about for a moment. Without waiting for you to react properly, Leigh starts herding Jules back inside the house, throwing over her shoulder a quick, “Thanks again, Y/N. Bye.”

You're left there, holding the bill in one hand, touching your cheek with the other, and staring at the closed door, suddenly very aware of how little you actually know about what's going on in Leigh's life.

-

Suzie shoots you that knowing look again as you head out of the clinic decked out in your active gear.

This time, a blush creeps up on your cheeks, memories of your chat with her about someone “making those sweat sessions worth it” floating back, and you try your best not to let your thoughts drift to Leigh. But then it hits you that she won't be there. Despite your dedication, the sheer excitement of going to the studio isn't quite what it used to be without her as your instructor.

Just as Suzie is about to lock up, the door bursts open. A man rushes in, cradling a small dog in his arms, panic written all over his face. He explains, breathless, that his pet is struggling with labor.

Suzie looks back at you. “I could call Foreman for this,” she says, already reaching for her phone. You stand there for a second, deliberating. Leigh won't be at the class; she's no longer at the Beautiful Beast. 

Then, making up your mind, you hold out a hand to stop Suzie. “No, there’s no need. I've got this.”

-

It feels like you've just walked into one of those old-timey romantic movies, where chivalry isn’t dead and everything turns out way better than you could've ever hoped. In hindsight, it’s better. Because it’s real, and you're right in the middle of it, living a dream you didn't even know you had, with the kind of guy you thought only existed in those movies.

The night air is cool and light, brushing against your skin as the car slows to a stop in front of your apartment. To say the least, it's been an unexpected evening for a first date, and easily one of the best.

As Matt pulls up to your building, he turns to you, a sheepish grin lighting up his face. “Well, here we are,” he says, as if surprised you've arrived so soon. 

You don’t want to say goodbye. Not yet. So you stay put in the passenger seat, doing your best to draw out the last strands of the evening.

“So, Nick was the mastermind behind all this?” you tease, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you two. 

Matt chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that... I had no clue he asked for your number until he handed it to me and said, ‘You owe me one’.”

“He’s the perfect wingman, then?”

“I guess you could say that,” Matt agrees, smiling. “I didn't tell him about my interest in you, but Nick knew anyway. He's good at reading people, always has been.”

“I see,” you say, your gaze following the contours of his cheeks, which carry a soft pink blush. It could be from the red wine you both enjoyed at dinner, or, you find yourself hoping, it might be because of you. “Well, he has my thanks. I really thought he was the one interested in me though.”

Matt laughs, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. “No, it was always me. Since the moment I, uh, ran into you.”

There’s a moment where you both just stare at each other, tacitly acknowledging the serendipity of it all—the accidental meeting that could've ended with a simple apology and nothing more. 

Yet here you are.

“You know, I'm glad it was you,” you profess, feeling a boldness that usually isn't there. 

Matt breaks into a huge grin, but it's really in his eyes where you can see just how happy your remark has made him.

“Would you... maybe want to do this again? Without the running into each other part, I mean,” he says softly.

You laugh, nodding. “I'd like that. Just maybe start with coffee next time. And no spilling.”

“Deal,” he says, his grin infectious.

As you step out of the car, a proposition forms in your mind and you backtrack.

“Would you like to get that coffee now?”

-

Sometimes, you find yourself dreaming about your memories with Matt, particularly the part Leigh interrogated you about. Even though you stuck to the facts, you couldn't shake off the feeling that you were somehow deceiving her.

You wonder if this is why you haven't been able to sleep for days. That, coupled with the fact that you've been handling emergencies yourself instead of calling Foreman as you used to. Suzie has mentioned that since you're taking on all the emergency cases, you might be overcompensating your intern. You don’t tell Suzie though that your work has become a welcome distraction from the realization that your new hobby no longer holds your interest, leaving you with extra hours to fill before returning to the solitude of your apartment.

And without seeing Leigh, there’s only your own head to get your fill of her. You find yourself thinking about her now and then, about what she's been doing, wondering if she's found a new job after leaving her yoga instructor position. She crosses your mind at the most random hours of the day, take right now, for example—staring at this little 8-day-old Shih Tzu puppy in the incubator, its fur somehow has you thinking of Leigh's hair color.

The puppy was part of a litter brought in for a C-section. Tragically, its mother didn't survive, and the owner, possibly overwhelmed by the situation and the impending bills, abandoned them. Out of four puppies, this one, the runt of the litter, was the sole survivor.

“What are we going to do with you, huh?” you muse aloud, the puppy blinking back with innocent eyes. “I can't take you for myself; you'd just end up living here in the clinic with me. And let's be honest, living in a hospital can't be much fun, right? It’s not safe either, exposes you to diseases.”

You sigh, brushing its length with your forefinger. “The other choice is to send you to a shelter. I'm sure someone would fall head over heels for you and adopt you in no time. But,” you sigh, your heart heavy, “I can't guarantee that'll happen quickly, as much as we both might want it to.”

“Finding where you fit in this big world isn't easy, you know? It's like searching for that one place, or that one person, where you could simply just… belong to. But I guess when you finally find it, it feels like winning the lottery, right?”

The puppy makes a noise, automatically bringing a smile to your lips. You wonder if Leigh has ever thought of the same thing—about searching for where she belongs after losing her home and everything familiar when Matt passed away. Perhaps it's even scarier for her. The thought of finding that one thing that's uniquely ours, only to lose it forever. What if we're only given one thing that's truly meant for us?

And once it's gone, what does that leave us with?

-

One sleepless night, after deciding to bring the puppy home for a more personal touch in its care, a thought crosses your mind. What if you could restore some of what was inadvertently taken from Leigh? Maybe bring back a piece of home and purpose that seemed to have slipped through her fingers when her world turned upside down?

It’s true, the puppy's late-night energy partly nudged the thought your way, but deep down, you believe Leigh will be perfect for him. You're sure she'll adore him, and he's bound to love her just as much.

Just as you're settling back to attempt sleep again, your phone starts ringing. You blink at the screen, disbelief washing over you as you see it's Leigh calling—the same woman you've recently realized you have feelings for, and who's been on your mind just moments ago. A part of you wonders if she dialed the wrong number by mistake, but it keeps ringing, compelling you to answer.

“Leigh?” you answer, the name almost a question in itself.

On the other end, you hear her take a deep breath—an ironic move given how the call exudes a vibe of urgency. Then, she speaks, her voice clear yet carrying an undercurrent of something you can't quite place. 

“Y/N Are you available to talk right now?”

“Yeah, I am. What's going on—”

“No, not on the phone. Can you meet me right now?”

You glance down at yourself, noting your sleep shorts and tee. You're so comfortable and cozy in bed, and the puppy had just gotten to sleep. It's tempting to reschedule this some other time. But the thought of Leigh Shaw on the other end of the line, coupled with the worrying nature of her request, tilts the balance. The idea of saying no, only to find out something bad happened to her, is something you know you wouldn’t forgive yourself for.

“Yes, I can meet you,” you say, hurrying your movements and snatching your jacket from the cabinet. “Where?”

-

The date doesn't end with just late-night coffee.

Matt's hand is on your ass, fingers digging in like he owns the place. You’re gripping his tie, pulling him in, again and again. Both of you are still wearing all your clothes, but they're starting to feel like barriers as you both lean into each other, striving to get as close as humanly possible.

The invitation for a nightcap, decaffeinated per his request, had both of you sitting a bit too close on the couch, sharing silly smiles over steaming cups as if you were already lost in love. When the cups were drained, conversation drifted dangerously towards the topic of sex, and that's when you caught yourself staring at Matt's lips. Before he had a chance to react, you were going for it, giving into weeks of pent-up sexual tension.

Matt's lips find their way to your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Encouraged by the heat of the moment, your fingers start to work on the buttons of Matt's shirt, eager to explore further. 

But then his hands caught yours.

“W-Wait…”

You’re stunned, pulling back almost reflexively, feeling a bit embarrassed as you tried to figure out if you crossed a line.

“Did I... do something wrong?” you ask.

Matt shakes his head and then kisses you on the forehead. He further reassures you by saying, “No, no, it's not you. I just think we might be rushing things a bit. I really like you, and I want us to be sure about this, you know?”

Inside, you’re a mess of wants and needs, but as much as you want him tonight, you realize you want him even more tomorrow, and the day after. You won't rush this, especially if he's not ready. So, you nod, squashing down the throbbing between your legs as you try to concentrate on anything but his half-open shirt. 

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything,” he adds, wearing that apologetic look on his face that got you the first time.

In response, you hold Matt's face gently, giving him a quick, soft kiss on the lips. “I really like you too,” you say, despite feeling like those words pale in comparison to what you truly feel for him.

Standing up, you figure he'll say his goodbyes and head out. But instead, Matt looks up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

“I don't want to rush things,” he repeats. “But, I also don't really want to leave just yet. Would it be okay if I stayed the night?”

The request takes you by surprise, a warm fluttering sensation bubbling up inside you at the thought of him wanting to stay. “Of course, you can stay,” you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips. “But I hope you're okay with the couch.”

Matt laughs and starts pulling off his socks. “There's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

-

Ever since Leigh asked to meet at a gas station on the sketchier side of town, your anxiety hasn't settled. It's a part of town known for trouble, somewhere you'd rather not be, especially in the dead of night. It doesn’t matter, because you’re hopelessly driven by concern and an unspoken affection that won't let you say no to her, no matter the time or place.

You walk up to the convenience store next to the gas station, its fluorescent lights flickering ominously, almost like you've just stepped into the opening scene of a horror movie. It's dead silent, aside from a radio playing inside the store, turned up by the person manning it in a feeble attempt to fill the silence or maybe to keep company. Leigh is inside, visible through the large, pane-glass window, nursing a coffee, alone. The way she's standing, something's off. 

You make your way towards her, hands buried deep in the comfort of your hoodie's pockets. 

“Hey—”

She's like a coiled spring at the sound of your voice. That should’ve been your first clue.

“Why did you lie?” Leigh asks point-blank.

“Leigh, I—What do you mean?”

Leigh's face twists into a grimace that chills you to the bone, a clear sign that tonight's going down one of two paths: either you both find a way through this mess, or she cuts you out for good. But you're lost, genuinely clueless about any lie she's accusing you of. You've been straight with her, at least you think you have.

Her nostrils flare, her eyes burning holes into you as she waits for some sort of confession. But all you can give her is a dumbfounded look.

After a while, Leigh's patience wears thin. “We're not doing this here,” she growls, glaring at the lone store clerk, who seems amused and makes no attempt to hide his interest in eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Leigh, I seriously don't know what you're talking about.”

“Just come with me,” she snaps, ushering you back outside, pulling at your arm with a grip that leaves no room for argument. It's painful, the way her nails dig into your skin, but you suppose you deserve it, whatever it might be. If it helps her release her anger, you're willing to bear it.

Leigh stops, plants her hands on her hips, and just looks at you, like she's waiting for something to click in your head. “Leigh, please—” you start, but you're cut off not by her anger this time, but by the sight of her eyes glistening, fighting back tears.

“You're really going to make me say it?” she manages to choke out, before giving a humorless laugh and running a frustrated hand over her face. Before you can protest again, she thrusts a phone into your hand. It's lit up, a text conversation open and waiting. As you scroll through the messages, your mouth opens in shock. They're from Matt. 

Skimming through the texts, your jaw nearly hits the ground. He's recounting your first date, detailing how the night ended with him at your place. He admits nothing happened, but not for a lack of desire. Instead, he confesses he held back because he's still wrestling with the fact that he's married to Leigh. He mentions wanting to make sure when he jumps in with you, he's not dragging any “chains” along.

He goes on, saying he felt you were on the same page, ready to go further, and implies the only reason things didn't heat up was because he had self-control. Reading this, you can't decide if Matt's just showing off or if he's trying to justify his half-steps to whoever's reading this on the other end.

“Whose phone is this?” you blurt out, the only question that registers in your brain. It turns out to be the wrong thing to say, though, as it’s precisely the spark that ignites Leigh's fury, sending it cascading over the edge.

“Don’t fucking change the subject!”

You press your lips into a thin line, your own frustration simmering. “I didn't lie to you, Leigh.” You wave the phone with Matt’s messages like some kind of proof, arguing, “He even says here nothing happened!”

“It's not just about what did or didn't happen!” she fires back, her eyes blazing. “You wanted it to happen. You were ready to go there with him. You wanted more, and you're still not owning up to it.”

At this point, keeping your emotions under wraps isn't an option anymore. 

“Yes! Of course, I wanted to go there with him,” you explode, your hands coming up in the air in surrender. “I found him attractive, thought he was a great guy, and—single, Leigh! I thought he was single when I was falling for him, okay? Are you happy now?”

Leigh's response is to laugh, but it's not a happy sound. It's bitter, mocking, and it just keeps going. 

You're standing there, breathing hard, your breath visible in the chilly air, when it hits you why she’s so upset: When you were telling her the details of your affair, you made it sound as if what happened—or almost happened—was just a casual fling. And Leigh, she just soaked up that version. In doing so, she somehow managed to forgive Matt, forgive you for your role in it, and even toy with the idea of being friends with you.

You made her believe it didn’t mean anything more than what she meant to him. It ripped off the bandage and thrust a knife back into her wound.

After Leigh's laughter fizzles out, the cold seems to bite a little harder, and you notice her shivering—whether from the cold or the tumult of emotions, you can't tell. She's just in shorts and a thin shirt, unprepared for the temperature drop.

Seeing her like this, vulnerable and cold, you feel the urge to just hug her and make her feel a fraction of how badly you regret deceiving her all along. Because saying “I'm sorry” feels way too small for the giant mess of feelings you're dealing with, especially the ones about her that you didn't even realize were piling up until now.

“Leigh,” you whisper, bargaining for something you don’t know.

She meets your gaze, a bit more peace in her eyes now, but that doesn't stop the tears from finally rolling down her cheeks. She's about to speak when suddenly a car pulls up in front of you, its headlights flashing across your faces, momentarily blinding you both.

A man steps out of the car, and Leigh recognizes him immediately. You do too, although it takes you a second longer to realize. Before either of you could react, he's already launching into a tirade. “Leigh, what the hell? Leaving in the middle of the night, stealing my phone—”

“Not now, Danny.”

You freeze, every fiber of your being locking onto the newcomer—because you're almost certain Leigh misspoke. 

His name is not Danny.

It’s Nick.

[vampiresbloodx]

warnings: implied harassment, physical attacks, creepy men, stalking, possessive and obsessive, legal age gap, blood.

Older!ex!gf!Wanda still can't help but stalk you over the years of your breakup, she likes keeping an eye on you, she wouldn't necessarily call it stalking, she just wants to make sure your okay.

Otherwise she would make herself go insane.

She doesn't even care that you've got a new girlfriend, she will pay attention to her too. It just so happens that maybe she knows them, has met them, she just wants the best for you, is that so bad?.

Wanda knows everything about your current girlfriend. She certainly doesn't like her, nor approve of your relationship, she seems too nice, too sweet, like she tried to mother you, even when she's supposed to be dating you, which Wanda definitely doesn't like.

It was her that was always there for you, no matter what, she'd leave her job mid shift just to go make sure you are okay, she couldn't imagine anything bad happening to her baby.

The thought alone brought her an immense amount of anxiety, worry, fear, all mixed into one, and stress. All over you. Most people would say she's being dramatic, maybe, but none of them would understand her love for you.

It just so happens as she was keeping an eye on you, like she does daily, she follows you home from work as for some reason you choose to take either public transport or you walk since your apartment isn't that far, still, anything could happen.

Especially at night.

Wanda was right.

She has a bad feeling in her gut when she couldn't help but notice a stranger in a hood following you every time you crossed a street

She thought she was acting fast when she saw the stranger grab at you, her heart froze, Wanda had no choice, before she knew it she used all her strength to force the stranger off of you, and started punching them.

Blood.

There was blood.

And she heard your voice.

"w-wanda... He's out!, the police are on the way" you said, stepping closer to her. She looked in your direction, and she saw no fear in your eyes.

You like seeing her like this.

For you.

She tilted her head to the side, "when did they say they'll be here."

You looked puzzled, "uh 10 minutes...."

"by the time they could arrive, you could have gotten seriously hurt, or worse. But I won't let that happen."

Your breath caught in your throat.

You couldn't help but stare at her, not even moving as you watched Wanda beat the shit out of him, he couldn't even speak, or beg, you weren't even sure if he was still conscious.

When Wanda was satisfied enough with how much blood she was seeing, she finally stopped, backing away as she watches him fall.

"don't ever go near someone that doesn't belong to you ever again."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: a brief reprieve.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

He waits until the air has settled. Yet he hasn’t. That thrill buzzes behind his ears as his chest beats erratically. He can’t help but think of their run-in at the store. It wasn’t that bad. She wasn’t afraid of him, just startled in the moment. That’s a good sign.

He mulls over his colliding thoughts. He wants to wait, make sure she is ready, that she can see he only means to take care of her. Then there’s that impatience that tugs at his nape. As he comes out of his hiding spot, just up on the fire escape of the next building, he has a thought. He should just walk up and knock on her door, introduce himself.

Noooooo. No. He’s getting carried away. She’s alone and vulnerable. He doesn’t want her to associate those things with him. He wants to make her feel safe.

So he slows and minds his steps, taking those untrackable paces that make him so deadly. They never hear him coming. He clicks into soldier mode, with a mission in mind. He creeps past her door and bends to swipe up the letter, barely missing a beat as he continues down the alley.

He doesn’t stop until he’s on the next street. He peers up and down, scanning the area and peeking over his shoulder. No one following, no movement from the alley. He turns left and crosses the road, dipping beneath the alcove of an abandoned storefront.

He shakily opens his hand. He’s slightly crumpled the paper. He frowns at the wrinkles and smooths them out. He narrows his eyes and reads the first line. Her writing is loopy and she dots her eyes with exes.

‘Hi stranger,’

He pauses, savouring each letter. Stranger… one day, she’ll know his name. He still wonders how she didn’t recognise him in the shop. Every now and then, people do.

He puts his eyes to the paper once more.

‘I don’t know what else to say but thank you. I don’t know who you are, but I know you are kind. Your gift will help in ways you don’t even know. I hope one day someone does something just as nice for you.

Thank you.’

He lingers on her name. He shifts around the letter to peel off his right glove and runs his thumb over the letters. He leans on the brick and reads the whole letter again. She knows he means well. She sees what he can do, he just needs her to know all he would do for her.

He folds up the letter carefully and tucks it inside his jacket, patting the outside just to make sure it's snug. He slips his phone out and pulls up the app. He flicks through the cameras until he finds the angle he wants.

His heart drops and his soles scuff as he fights to keep from racing out into the street. She’s on the floor, sat against the wall, a litter of groceries all around her. She calmly holds a can, reading the ingredients as if the scene isn’t chaotic.

He waits, teetering between reluctance and desperation. He needs her to get up. She’s all alone and he’s the only one who can see she needs help. Yet he can’t just burst in there and scoop her up and tell her it’ll be okay.

He can only watch helplessly. He hates feeling this way. It takes him back. To when he didn’t have control. To when he was a monster.

Her

You set the can down and steel yourself, closing your eyes as you tilt your head back. Your hip is still ringing. It was just one wrong step, a stupid slip, and it all came crashing down. That’s when your armful went scattering and you with it. The tumble saw you landing on one of the tin cans, its shape more painful than the descent.

You reach to brace the wall and push yourself to one knee. Your hip is on fire as you grunt and plant your foot. You stand and cling to the wall sobbing as your tears break through. You turn and try to take a step, catching yourself with the mostly empty shopping cart, nearly tipping it as you stagger.

You twist and hit the counter with your back. You let go of the cart and get your elbows onto the counter before you slide down again. You lean back and catch your breath, aching so deep you shake. You roll your eyes against the tears and look around.

The apartment is so solemnly lonely. It’s just you. You could languish on the floor and no one would ever know. The government wouldn’t care if you didn’t cash your check, the grocer wouldn’t care if you didn’t pick out discounts, and your neighbours wouldn’t notice past their toddler’s tantrums.

You gather your strength and make yourself stand, ignoring the agony. You can do this. You grab the cart and drag it closer. You bend over and grab the bread, whipping it out onto the counter. You lean heavily on the cupboards as you go about getting it all away. Your final challenge is retrieving the cans from the floor.

At last, it’s done. You roll the cart before you, using it as your only support and fall against the back of the couch. You let the cart go and flip yourself over onto the mattress, curling up across the top as you’re wracked with heaving sobs.

You’re tired of this. The pain, the helplessness, the betrayal of your own body. You’re trapped inside this thing that doesn’t work! You just want to give up. You don’t know why you haven’t. You don’t have anything to keep you from doing just that.

Dr. Grissam looks at you dully over his chart. You sit on the low stool, unable to even take the step up to get on the bed. He sighs and taps his pen on the clipboard.

“I did recommend the cane last time,” he reprimands.

You wince. He did and you couldn’t afford it then, just like you can’t know. And the bill for this visit will be another dent in your monthly stipend. You’re rationing your oatmeal and keeping your bread frozen.

“I know. I… I should’ve listened,” you hang your head. Dr. Grissam is a stern man but he signed off on your ministry papers. Without his little scribble, you’d have nothing.

“It’s a lesson,” he sniffs, “there’s a mobility store. I recommend it. They have a big selection, affordable too.”

Affordable. That’s not within your vocabulary. He jots something down on the little pad and rips the sheet off, holding it out. “More pain meds. Ten tablets. You take them when you need to, not when you want to.”

“Yes, doctor,” your murmur.

He’s always been stingy but you don’t ask for the pills. He gives them but acts like you’re some sort of fiend. You accept the script and get up, clinging to the stool until you get your balance.

“Is it close?” You ask.

“Bus takes you straight to it. Couple blocks down.”

“Oh,” you nod, “thank you, doctor.”

“Make sure you see Charity. It’ll help.”

You utter an empty promise to do so before you leave. You can’t afford to see the physio either. You told him that before but you don’t think he heard you, or wanted to. In his eyes, it’s your own fault you’re like this. You can’t help but wonder if it is.

You won’t use the prescription. You can’t pay the pharmacy fee. You check the address scrawled beneath; you can walk there… slowly. You’ll have to take some breaks but it will be easier when you have a cane. Getting back won’t be as taxing, but you expect, you’ll draw even more stares.

Bucky

She went into the store nearly forty minutes ago. The small depot is nestled between a convenience store and vape shop. She walked all the way there from the plaza of her doctor's office.

He kept pace with her, hanging back when she sat on a bench and rubbed her hip. He still can't shake the image of her on her bed, crying on pain. The days since haven't proven any easier. 

He stares at the marquee. The mobility shop displays scooters and walkers in the window. He can guess why she's there. He can tell it took more than just the physical effort to make herself do so.

He's antsy. He hopes she's okay. She didn't look very happy after her appointment. She even seemed defeated. 

The door opens and closes. He's disappointed. It's not her, only an elderly couple. Despite the let down, he can't help but feel a dimple in his cheek. That could be them one day, a whole life ahead of them.

He checks his watch. He's supposed to meet up with Sam in a couple hours. He can cancel, he isn't exactly in the mood to be hazed. 

When the door opens again, he's transfixed. It's her. She walks steadier with the cane but still uneven. She keeps her free hand on her hip as she appears to test out her new gait, figuring out how best to place the cane.

She grows more confident as she goes. He notices her slow down and peer through the window of the bakery nearby. He keeps his distance, still across the street. He’s noted that too. How she meticulously measures out her food. A can of soup is split across three meals with nothing else. She eats slow when she remembers too.

It’s starting to get to him. So much it makes him itchy. She needs him to take care of her. She can’t do it herself. Not because of her hips or her lack of trying. He can barely do it either. He sleeps on the living room floor in the light of television just to feel a little less alone.

She’s a lot like him. He sees that more and more. As he does, he feels her pain like his own. More than his own.

He can’t keep waiting. If he does, she could get hurt. He can’t bear to keep watching her suffer like this. He can help her. He knows he can. She might not, but he can show her. It’s not the way he wanted to but his hands are tied.

He should go see Sam. He promised. Besides, he needs a favour.

Her

The shadows move just on the other side of your eyelids. You’re groggy as slowly you’re drawn awake by the odd scratching. A breeze flows over your body and you roll onto your side. Your lashes flutter and gasp as you notice the front door. It’s open!

You sit up, panic swelling in your chest. Someone’s in your apartment. You hear them, sifting around in the drawers. You turn and see the silhouette of the intruder, shoulders broad as he’s distracted by your sparse belongings. You reach for the can against the side of the folding frame.

As you swing it to the floor and haul yourself up, the man turns. You cry out as he sees you, stalking forward, his eyes flitting between you and the door. He seems to hesitate as he comes closer and closer. You aren’t fast enough to run.

He stops, frozen, as if he’s afraid of you. You don’t know what to do so you raise the cane and smack his shoulder. 

“Get out!” Your heart hammers wildly. What are you doing? This man could break you in half. “Get-”

He hisses and pushes the cane away as you aim it at him again. He lumbers around you, shielding himself with an arm as he hurries to the door, shoving through the heavy grate. He mutters something you can’t make out. You set your cane straight and limp to the door, eager to close it behind him.

You hear him outside, grunting and groaning. You keep from shutting the door as you see him tangled with another shadow. The man in the hoodie remains faceless as a thick arm wraps around his neck. Another man wrestles him down to his knees as a slat of light limns his square jaw and bright eyes. You gape  through the iron bars of the outer door.

“Lock the door,” he grows as he continues to struggle with the intruder, “now.”

You obey. You recognise the man but you can’t place from where. It doesn’t matter. He can’t be bad if he’s fighting a robber, right? You turn the locks, the lower one broken completely. You strain to watch through the peephole. 

You can’t believe this is happening, that that man broke in and you didn’t even notice. Not until he could have hurt you. Not until it was too late.

[dashofmonsters]

Dreamers & Delusions- Pt. 5

merman x female reader

It's been a couple weeks now since you and Tao had started your fake dating situationship thing. He walks you to and from work as often as he can and invites you to his home more and more.

You end up hanging out with him most days and are rarely at your grandmother's except to sleep or get ready for work. On the days you don't have work and don't want to go to the beach, Tao has let you hang out at his rental. It was odd at first but you quickly got comfortable with it.

Today though, you couldn't get out of the house. The weather has gotten worse and it's been raining for two days straight. Yesterday you saw him while he was out grocery shopping, he looked a bit upset then. Over and over he kept asking if you'd be okay but you'd told him you'll be fine.

Now, you're not so sure.

It's only been two days but your grandmother hasn't shut up.

"Your looks will only last so long. You should consider doing something that will keep him on his toes. Maybe try to freshen up your wardrobe," your grandmother rants from her recliner.

"He's not interested in stuff like that. I mean he dresses like uncle Rob when he's out mowing the lawn for fucks sake. Merfolk don't care about that stuff," you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your phone.

You hear your grandmother scoff.

She wasn't quite onboard with you "dating" Tao after she found out he was a merman. She kept complaining that it would be difficult to have a normal life together and what would your kids look like. It's been never ending with her on that front but now she's back to you.

"I'm just saying, what if he does get bored with you? You'll at least be ready for someone else," she states.

"Just shut up! You don't know jack shit! No wonder you're fucking alone! Do you hear yourself," you snap at her. You feel like you should feel bad for what you just said but you don't.

Your grandmother rises from her recliner and stomps towards you with a foul glare.

"I took you in you ungrateful little bitch. Day in and day out I let you come and go as you please and this is what I get? I took pity on you because of that piss poor excuse of a daughter of mine... But I can see the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree," she seethes, spitting on your face.

Thunder roars outside and shakes the house. A flash of lightning and the power is off. You can still make out the miserable shape of your grandmother in front of you. You can still hear her breathing impatiently, undeterred by the darkness.

"You're right, the apple didn't fall too far from the tree. My mom's a fuck up who lost her husband just like you did," you spit back to her.

Your cheek stings suddenly and you realize your grandmother has slapped you. Again and again, three... four times she hits you before you grab her wrist and shove her away.

"Fuck this," you holler, stomping away from you grandmother and down the hall.

You can hear her yelling at you, cursing you and your mother. But you ignore her as you pull the door open. The rain is coming down in sheets and although it's noon, the sky is almost dark as night.

Slamming the door behind you, you take a few careful steps down the stairs and bolt across the empty street. The walk to the beach is slow but you don't care. You just want to be there, you want to feel the wind as it whips off the waves.

The rain stops for a little bit, slowing to a sprinkle as you step onto the drenched sand. Your shoes get stuck a few times till you decide to just take them off. Little by little you make your way to the life guard tower. The rain picks up again as you climb up and curl into a ball against the back wall.

Your stomach drops and you hold yourself as you start to cry. You hate feeling like this, you hate that every time you fight with your grandmother you let her get into your head.

You feel nauseous and tired, drained from yelling and running in the rain. You just wanted a fresh start away from your hometown. You wanted a better life, an easier life, but everything has been getting difficult lately.

The heaviness of the rain lulls you to sleep as you curl up with a damp beach towel you found in the tower. You're shivering cold, but you're to tired and eventually you drift to sleep.

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

Tao:

I haven't been able to shake this horrible feeling since I woke up this morning. I dragged myself out of my tank earlier than usual and showered off. The hot water helped me clear my head as it has been every morning.

I cannot stop thinking about my dear friend and more often then not I fall asleep with her on my mind. Sweet dreams usually follow and I wake up angry at myself for thinking of her too much.

Today is different though, the shower helped long enough for me to dry off and make it to the kitchen before I started thinking of her again.

I've let her into my home so often so she can avoid her grandmother and little by little she's left bits of herself here. A jacket that I have hung next to my own by the door. A couple of her books that I've skimmed through but found it too licentious to finish. And her crown from the night we shared with the pixies.

I have placed her crown in my nest room for a reason I cannot understand. I have fallen asleep with it in my hands almost everyday. Three days ago I had thought I lost it and nearly ruined my home looking for it. I was ashamed of myself when I found it in one of its usual spots in the room.

I felt horrible that I let my thoughts of her consume me so, but today it's worse. So much worse. I feel dreadful and not because of my thoughts of her. Something deep inside of me is uneasy and restless.

My kitchen is in a state of chaos after I make breakfast, an unusual sight for me since I clean as I go. I eat quickly and quietly but I am unable to finish eating. I feel sick and I almost double over when I start on the dishes.

Bile bubbles up in the back of my throat and my chest feels heavy. That horrible feeling explodes and suddenly I find myself racing to the door.

The rain is coming down hard and I can hardly see anything in front of me but I make my way down the wooden steps. I freeze in my tracts once I get to the bottom.

Something feels off, wrong and twisted.

I allow myself a moment and another as I realize my instincts are coming alive. I sniff the air again and again until I smell it.

It's faint but it's undeniably her scent.

The rain would have washed it away already unless she has left the safety of her home.

I start running then, running for dear life towards the beach. The horrid feeling I had was for her all along, for the safety of my only friend and shoal mate. I had ignored it for too long, I just hope that I'm not too late.

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

You startle awake from the loud thunder clapping. The rain had gotten worse as you slept. The clouds have darkened and the wind has grown stronger. The tower groans as the wind assaults it every few minutes.

Groggy and cold and wet, you try to find another beach towel to wrap up in but you find none. You try to consider your options but your mind is so tired and you're becoming a bit anxious with the storm getting worse.

You decide then to make an attempt to get to Tao's home. You'd be safe there and far away from your grandmother.

Step by careful step you make it down the tower and your heart stops at the view in front of you. The waves are hitting the beach harder and fast. The tide is high and you're a bit too close to the water than you're comfortable with.

You look around and decide that if you can get to the houses on the other side of the beach you can worm your way through that neighborhood to his house.

Slowly and ever so cautiously you step forward. You have to balance yourself as the wind is constantly threatening to knock you down. You're teetering closer and closer to the waves as you walk towards the houses. You keep trying to walk away from them but somehow manage to find your feet right back in the water.

You're halfway there when you hear something behind you but by the time you turn around it's too late. You're knocked out almost instantly and you fall hard and fast. The waves lap at your body, slowly pulling you into the ocean.

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

Tao:

I race up and down the beach trying to find her, my body fighting to transform under the heavy rains. I sniff the air again and again but the scent has drifted. No, it's drifting...

My heart stops as I look out into the dangerous dark waters.

I sniff again, hoping I'm wrong but I'm not.

I sprint towards the waves and jump as high and as far as I can into the ocean. I dive in and within second I smell her... I smell her blood.

I force the transformation and swim as fast as I can towards her scent. This storm will have no doubt invited several unwanted predators to this area and if they have smelled her blood...

Something heavy rams into my side and I reel back as I see a bull shark charging towards me. I harden my fist using what magic I have and punch the creature on the snout before electrocuting it. The shark shakes its massive body and tries to attack again.

I haven't the time for this.

Not wanting to kill an innocent creature, I use my magic to disrupt the currents and have the shark swept up in them.

Quickly I swim away and try to follow the scent again. It's getting further and further away but stronger. She's loosing blood and fast.

I push myself more than I ever had before and swim until I feel like my lungs might give out. The scent of her blood becomes so strong I can practically taste it.

Grinding my teeth, I move faster until I see her limp body bobbing in and out of the water. I quickly surface and see her loosely hanging onto a plastic trash bin. I quickly pull her into my arms and look around us.

I can hardly see the beach from here... She was pulled so far from land.

Gathering my strength I swim hard towards the shore. I have to be careful and keep her head above the water, it's not easy. I would give her gills like I did the night we danced with the pixies but she's not awake for it. I have to shift her ever so often as the waves threaten to pull us under and I have to use an immense amount of magic to keep the currents steady.

I almost panic when she slides out of my arms and I have to quickly swim back for her. I pray to the goddesses for the first time in a long time that I make it back to the shore with her alive.

By the time we reach land the sky is truly dark. The wind has died down and the tide has lowered. I pull her and myself up, breathing heavily as I lay us down. I look at her and I feel a mix of pain and relief. She's breathing but she's hurt.

Blood trickles down her head and there's a gash on her leg where her pants have been torn. I work fast to bring myself back to my human form. It hurts like hell forcing it and I grit my teeth. I am motionless for a few minutes after my tail has split into legs. It burns worse than ever after swimming so hard.

I shake as I force myself to stand and carefully scoop my friend into my arms. My muscles ache but the gnawing heavy dread I had felt has subsided a great deal. Holding her close to me I begin the long walk back home.

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

It's warm and quiet when you finally wake up. You're sitting on a bench covered in towels with a space heater next to you. You tilt your head back, a searing pain making you wince.

You gasp, a wheezing noise leaving your mouth. You hear someone running towards you and you feel their warm hands on your face.

"Thank the goddesses, you're finally awake," Tao says.

You can only tell it's him by his voice, your vision is still blurry and your head hurts so bad.

"Why the hell were you at the beach," you hear him yell.

You try to open your mouth but it's dry and tastes like salt. Your head lulls to the side and your blurry vision becomes slightly clearer. Tao is kneeling before you, his hands move from your face to your shoulders. He grips you and you wince, everything hurting.

"You were over a mile away from the beach when I found you! You could have been killed! For... Fucks sake you were covered in blood when I found you! Were you drinking that vile human alcohol again? Why would you go out and do something like that," Tao shakes you, still yelling and unable to control himself.

You limply raise your hand a plop it weakly over his arm. You mouth a few words begging him to stop as you begin to cry. Your voice is hoarse and your throat sore but you manage a few dry words.

"I'm sorry... please Tao... Please stop... You're hurting me," you cough and are nearly out of breath from just speaking.

Tao stops shaking you and loosens his grip on you. His hands fall to the bench before snaking around you and pulling you closer to him. He rests his head on your lap and you feel him shivering.

"I thought I had lost you... I couldn't find you and when I did... You were so far away and unconscious. You were just floating there while bleeding out. Why were you there... Why," Tao holds you closer, his nails digging into your skin.

You cough as you try to speak but it's no use. You keep coughing and coughing so hard it hurts. Tao quickly scoops you up and brings you to the kitchen where he gently sets you on the counter. He brings you a large glass of water that you chug down. You're still coughing but it doesn't hurt as bad as it did before.

Tao takes your cup and refills it and as he hands it to you, you start crying again.

This day keeps getting worse and worse and you just want it to end. First the fight with your grandmother, then you get knocked out and dragged into the ocean, and now Tao is mad at you.

A part of you wishes that you stayed lost at sea. That you might have finally found some peace and everyone would probably be better off without you. That thought consumes you till you start weeping in earnest.

"Fuck," you hear Tao curse and then you hear something break.

You begin to shake even as Tao wraps his arms around you. He holds you, not too tight but close enough that you can hear his heart beat.

"I'm sorry, please stop crying. I just-," Tao tenses up and you hear his voice crack. "You're all I have, please be more careful... please."

You hear what he's saying but you're too tired, too hurt to really register any of it. He keeps talking, his voice calming down but the words are lost on you. The pain you feel on your head is dulling but draining. You keep going in and out and Tao keeps talking.

There's a loss of heat for a moment, your eyelids too heavy to peel open to see what's going on. You feel yourself being lifted and walked somewhere. Something warm and soft is wrapped around you before you're set down on something even more soft. You limply nestle into it before allowing sleep to claim you.

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

Tao:

I pace in my kitchen for what feels like hours. I am feeling too many things at once and I cannot sort them properly. My friend is safe and fast asleep in my nest room. Her injuries were not deep but there were many. I cleaned and bandaged what I could without having to strip her but I fear I might have missed a few cuts and wounds because of that.

Her words play over and over in my head, when I asked her what she was doing at the beach. In my rage I yelled at her, again. In my desperation I accused her of being drunk even though I realized too late I didn't smell any alcohol on her breath. I have made a terrible mistake.

She might resent me now, might even fear me. She's already afraid of sharks and my mer half is similar to that creature. She was terrified the first time she touched my tail. What if she's still terrified of me but doesn't say anything?

Rage swells in my heart for what I have done, for hurting her and making her cry. I look down at my hand, my knuckles are torn after punching the wall and the skin on my fingers are slightly cut.

I am not good enough for her... I've hurt her...

That anger quickly dies down and is replaced with a gnawing sorrow. I slide to the floor and grip at my hair while grinding my teeth. Three, no four of my front teeth pop out from how hard I bite down. I spit them out and wince as I feel the back row shift forward.

This pain must be my punishment for what I have done. I must beg for forgiveness when she wakes up. I cannot bare the thought of her being afraid of me, it hurts too much.

I sit and center myself as I shed the front row of my teeth and spit them out little by little. I am covered in blood and I feel horrible. A new back row will grow in a day or two causing more well deserved pain. It will serve as a reminder of what I've done. For now though, I am tired and my shoal mate needs me to watch over her.

She ran to the beach for a reason. I was too enraged to hear her out and too impatient to let her heal before speaking.

I clean myself up and quickly change into something warm before heading to my nest room.

My friend is sleeping soundly but with tears sliding down her cheeks. I carefully place a hand over her forehead, she is cold. I have wrapped her in a large towel since she is dirty and too tired to change into anything.

I pause and try to think what she would even wear. My clothes are large and one of my shirts would fit her like a short dress. I imagine it for a moment and inhale sharply. It would be the only thing I own that would fit her and it would cover just above the knees. I slap myself for thinking of her like that.

She is my friend, she is my shoal mate, you are not good enough for someone like her.

I chant that over and over again but the more I do the more it feels like a lie.

What if I could be more than just a friend to her, what if I am good enough for her, what if she could be my-

I stop that last thought. It would be too good to be true if she could be more than just a friend, but to be my mate or my fated mate? I would pray to the goddesses everyday for the good fortune of allowing me to meet her.

But that is not the case, no matter how much I wish it.

I carefully step around her and lay by her side, gently pulling her into my arms. Hearing her breathe settles me and I feel myself purring. I chuckle remembering how I reacted to her talking about that. I know talking about purring is embarrassing but I never questioned why until after that day.

She has made me question myself, question my upbringing, and my kin more often than not to the point that I'm not sure who I really am. I've allowed myself to be defined by what I am and where I'm from that I don't know who I am. She mentioned once that she hates being judged by her work and family and I'm starting to understand that.

I hope that tomorrow I can make amends with her so that we can talk and learn each other more

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

You ache everywhere when you wake up. Your head in pounding and your stomach makes an angry growl. The lights are dim when you open your eyes. You're surrounded by plush pillows and blankets that smell freshly laundered. You suddenly realize that you're in Tao's nest room.

You try to sit up but every fiber of your being is screaming in agony. You groan in pain and wince when you touch your head. Everything starts to slowly come back and the last thing you remember is Tao wrapping you up and carefully laying you down.

A cough forces its way out until you're having a fit. Your throat is on fire, dry and sore. You hear heavy foot fall and suddenly you see Tao. He helps you sit up and brings a cup to your lips. You slowly drink, some of the water not making it into your mouth.

Tao holds you as you catch your breath, the dryness in your throat has subsided but it's still sore. You loll your head till you're looking up at him and whimper a quiet apology. You feel Tao's grip on you tighten before he carefully lays you back down.

"No, it is I who should be sorry. You are injured and exhausted and I had yelled at you, again. I made a horrible accusation and expressed my anger about what had happened when you're already vulnerable and cannot speak. I am ashamed of myself," Tao admits, his voice despondently.

You limply pat his hand, "As long as you're not mad at me or hate me we're good."

Tao takes your hand in his and lightly squeezes it, "I will never hate my friend but I am upset that you put yourself in danger. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," you say then cough. "I was running on pure emotions and spite. I-" you cough again and again into another fit. Tao helps you drink once more and tells you that you can talk once you're better.

But you ignore him, needing to get this all off your chest.

"I got into another fight with my grandmother. She was being a class A bitch about some shit and then she brought you into the conversation and I lost it," you explain, clearing your throat afterwards.

"So you ran to the beach in the middle of a storm," Tao asks dryly.

"Like I said, wasn't thinking. I just wanted to get way from her and my feet just took me there. I stayed up in the guard tower where I passed out, emotionally exhausted and when I came to, I decided to make my way to your place," you say, pausing to let Tao help you drink some more water.

"I don't know what happened but the next thing I knew I was bashed in the back of the head! I came to a few times when I was being dragged further from land... I remember getting scrapped up and screaming from the pain. I probably passed out again afterwards. Then you found me. You saved me," you can't help the tears that start coming on then.

As you cry you start to remember being helplessly dragged miles away from shore. Too sore to move and terrified that you might drown or become fish food. You screamed so much your throat became raw. You remember your leg being torn by a rock and being whipped against a buoy so hard your back bruised immediately. Everything hurts and feels sharp and dull all at once. Worst of all, you're starving and your tummy is not being quiet about it.

"What is that sound," Tao asks.

"My stomach... I haven't eaten anything since the day before my grandmother and I fought. So it's protesting and-"

Tao quickly sets you back down and scrambles out of the room. You hear chaos unfold from the kitchen and before you know it he's back with an armful of snacks.

"Please eat these while I go cook you something warm," is all he says before rushing off again.

He's deposited the snacks in front of you, all of them being your usual favorites that you munched on when you hung out here. You always brought them over and never really stored any here. You don't want to think too much into it aside from him practicing to be a good mate to someone else. You'd get your hopes up for no reason otherwise.

You happily tear into a bag of chips and chow down. Three bags of chips later Tao returns with a large bowl of soup. It smells so good your mouth starts watering.

Tao helps you sit up and piles a few pillows behind you. You reach for the bowl only for Tao to move the tray with it on his lap.

"You're shaking too much, I'll feed you," Tao states.

You glare at him for a moment and then at yourself, "Fuck."

"Eat and then I'll take you to the bathroom so you can bathe yourself and clean whatever wounds you can or I couldn't get to," he says, scooping some soup up and bringing it to your lips.

You take a bite, trying not to be awkward in this situation, "What wounds? And I don't even have a change of clothes what would I even wear?"

Tao makes you take a few more bites while he mulls over your question. He's clearly uncomfortable about something an it shows as plain as day.

"Tao, let's not be weird about this. We're both adults buddy," you say after finishing another amazing bite of soup.

"I didn't get to the wounds on your back or thighs since... since touching or getting to either spot would have been highly inappropriate," he answers, looking away from you though.

"Ok, I appreciate the chivalry but what if I had a really really bad injury on either spot of I don't know some weird fish venom you would have had to strip me and I would have been alright with that. I trust you dude and not once have you creeped me out," you tell him.

He finally looks back at you and the whites of his eyes slowly turn black. "I do not feel worthy of such trust my friend, not after what I did."

"Well guess what, you have my trust regardless of loosing your shit and rightfully so! You were scared, I get it. You don't have to keep beating yourself up over it," you reach out and lightly pat his arm.

"Are you certain? I hurt you and yel-"

"I said it's fine, jeeze! Water under the bridge. Forgive and forget. Less sadness, more soup," you pat his arm again and make a face.

Tao chuckles and shakes his head, "How is it that you're torn up and still as talkative as ever."

"My mouth doesn't have an off switch man, I could ta-"

Tao shoves a spoonful of soup into your mouth.

"I do believe I just found the off switch for that mouth of yours," he grins.

You swallow hard and as mad as you feign to be you can't help but to laugh, "Ya got me, feed me good food and I shut right up."

With that Tao feeds you another bite but it's a bit much and some of the broth slides down your chin. Before you have a chance to clean it off, Tao wipes it off with his thumb before cleaning it off with his tongue. Your brain blanks out for a moment and you feel your cheeks heat up.

"I uh think I'm getting full... Don't want to eat too much in one sitting," you try to play it cool but your voice cracks and you want to crawl under a rock and bang your head against a wall.

"Understood, I can save the rest for when you're hungry again. I'll put this up and draw a bath for you," he nods before standing up.

Your stomach sinks when you remember that you have nothing to wear after you get out of the bath.

"Oh uh yeah hey Tao buddy, um I don't have a change of clothes so...," you start, making a few nervous and fiddly gestures with your hands.

Tao stops in his tracks and visibly tenses up, "Right, I uh... I put one of my larger shirts for you to wear in there. Unfortunately that's the only thing I own that would fit you so..."

There's an awkward silence between the both of you that is blessedly broken by a loud roll of thunder that shakes the windows.

"That's fine," you finally squeak.

"Alright," Tao nods.

"Ok then," you pat your knees.

You scream internally and beg the universe to help you not make this day any weirder and wilder than it's already starting out to be.

[tiredfox64]

Hi! I hope you are having a good day/evening! 🤩

If it's okay with you, I'd like to see a Shang Tsung (MK11 or Titan! Shang) x afab!powerful! reader fic. I was thinking of a character who is kind to friends, so much so that she seems harmless, but lethal to enemies 💚🐍

I ask you to imagine their first meeting and how things might evolve from there, trying to avoid the non-con as much as possible (I don't feel comfortable with it 😢)

Give vent to your imagination! 😍

Beauty Like A Butterfly, Pain Like a Wasp

Yip notes: Ugh we love gorgeous gorgeous men with a very petty attitude.

Pairing: Shang Tsung (MK11) x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: None...WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

Could a creature ever be friendly but also deadly? Shang Tsung believed something like that was impossible. Perhaps a dog fits the criteria but never a person. He truly means friendly and kind. Not humble and peaceful like Liu Kang would portray. Someone who will make people smile with no ill will. Someone who draws people in with their aura and demeanor. But alas, he has never once found a person like that.

That was until Shang Tsung set his eyes on you.

You were as graceful and bloodthirsty as a butterfly. As kind and cuddly as a bumble bee with a wasp’s wrath. He has only seen such beauty in Sonya Blade, but never the same warm aura that you radiated. He believed your friendliness was a façade or a trick just like he would portray. But that mask never slipped off during the time you and him spent together.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Shang Tsung’s first encounter with you was unforgettable because of how unexpected it was.

He journeyed through realms trying to find souls that might be a great addition to his collections. He hoped to find someone worthy to either trick into being his pawn or feasting upon their souls But all he could find were regular beings who had nothing extraordinary about them. Sure, some people looked like they had amazing strength but it was nothing compared to Goro or Kintaro. There was definitely nobody around who seemed to wield any magic. No one stood out just yet. He needed to wait. His patience would be rewarded.

You stood not too far away. You were among your friends, laughing and making them smile whenever you gained the chance. To them, you were the equivalent of an angel. You were the sweetest thing the gods could have given the world with your friendly demeanor and ability to make anyone your friend. The emo girl who usually sits alone is as much your friend as the guy who keeps going to jail for things he “supposedly” did. That’s the kind of person you are.

However, not everything about you is on the surface. Secrets lie even in honest and sincere people. They may not seem like secrets to you but to others, they believe they are since it’s a shock to them. This secret of yours will be revealed to Shang Tsung. Would you like some Netherrealm demons to help bring it out? They will show up in about 5…4…3…

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!”

…now.

You swiftly turned around and heard the ground crumble as many hands started clawing their way out. Soon, horns of many shapes and sizes emerged from this burning hole. There should be no reason for demons to emerge in the streets. But creatures from Netherrealm don’t play nice. If they want to invade a realm so badly they would. And right now they want to bring hell upon your home.

Fuck that noise.

You pushed your friends in a certain direction and told them to run without looking back. You watched as people ran around with these demons roaring and growling like the ferocious beasts they were. A switch flipped inside of you and that bright, cheerful attitude turned into one of aggression and hostility. Shang Tsung was not too far from the spectacle he was about to witness.

You bent down to grab a rock, no bigger than the palm of your hand. You observed it to make sure it would be stable enough for what you were about to do next. You reeled back like a baseball player while keeping your eye on the demon with the biggest horns.

The sound of meat being squished was heard as the demon fell to the ground, a hole blown through its head. The bits of rock went flying before landing in the puddle of blood that came seeping out.

This was…unexpected to say the least. Shang Tsung was not ready for that. He wondered if he blinked at the wrong time and missed what you did. Taking in context clues, he was able to determine what happened. You chucked that rock at Mach speeds and killed the demon on impact. The demon was dead in a matter of a millisecond. When he looked back up he saw you gesture to the rest of the pack to come at you. You were ready to eliminate the rest of them.

Shang Tsung kept a close eye on your display of ferociousness. These demons, who were much larger and were more muscular than you, were falling like flies. Hearts being ripped from chests, horns being used as weapons, skulls being smashed in, oh the blood bath was endless. Shang Tsung didn’t realize he was smiling at the performance in front of him. Even as you grew tired from the amount of demons you were dealing with he was delighted by the effort you were putting in. You were a rodeo bull who did not back down, you wanted to knock that rider off.

He felt like being nice that day so he decided to use his sorcery to help you out. You watched some of the demons burst into flames or being kicked down into pits of fire. You had no clue what was happening until Shang Tsung came into view. He moved fluently as he dodged everything the demons threw at him. Soon the pack of demons were nothing but corpses on the ground. Shang Tsung finished the job by opening a portal and sending the remains back to the Netherrealm. You stared in astonishment. You had no clue what just happened. All you knew was that this man near you was not normal.

“Uh thanks, stranger. I’m not sure what you did but it sure helped finish the job.” You tried your best to not sound confused since you thought it would be rude.

“That, my dear, was sorcery. It is clear to me that you do not need sorcery since you seem like a competent fighter. I watched you from the beginning and I must say, your performance was deliciously cold-blooded.” He spoke to you with a hypnotic voice that was luring you in ever so carefully as he circled you.

“Uhm, thanks?” You weren’t sure if you wanted to take that as a compliment.

He let out an amused chuckle at your confusion and possible innocence. He already sensed you were not someone faking their goodness like Sindel would do. You were clueless and that can be seen as cute at times. He stopped circling you like a vulture ready for prey to die and walked up to you.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Shang Tsung,” He took your hand and kissed the back of it. “May I ask who you may be?”

Both of you were hooked on each other for one reason or another. You gladly told Shang Tsung who you were. You saw this as a possibly interesting friendship if Shang Tsung would allow it. Will he actually be your friend or will he use you as a stepping stool to his supposed destiny?

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

What have you done to this man? How can he be weakened like this?

Originally, Shang Tsung thought he would use you as another obedient subject that he could use as leverage to get his way. If he could trick Shao Kahn and Sindel, he could easily trick you as well. You would never view him as just a dog that had to listen to his master.

But that was the problem. You didn��t view him as anything negative.

Perhaps it was because he never involved you in his schemes to get Kronika’s crown or spoke about his distaste for certain people. Whatever it was that made you see him in a good light, he couldn’t believe it. All those who “trusted” him knew of his deceptive nature or they fully believed he would aid them all the way in their malicious plans. They were fools and risk-takers. He believed you were one of them until he started realizing the differences you portrayed.

You never asked for assistance on anything even if his sorcery could help. You trusted him fully without much thought of possible deception. If you weren’t acting like the others why are you still here?

Because he was your friend in your eyes. You gave him attention. You showed interest in his sorcery. Even when you two would spar you never got sore about losing. He was sore though after enduring millions of punches from you. He should never forget how powerful you are.

One of the moments that Shang Tsung thought about a lot was the first time he brought you to his island. He showed you his many treasures and special artifacts that he stored on the island. Many items caught your eye such as gold, jewels, and shiny stones. Something told him to test you and see how much you would take. You could take what you wanted, within reason of course. However, your words caught him off guard.

“Isn’t this yours? Why would I take it?”

You stumped him. He was silent as he looked at you with his eyebrows raised. He let out a little ‘hm’ before walking off. You caught up to him, wondering if you made the wrong decision. You actually made a decision he never knew was an option. He knew at that moment that you were just a friendly person. During the rest of the time on the island, you never took a piece of jewelry or a gold coin and pocketed it. You entered the island and left the island with the same items in your pockets.

You had cast an imaginary spell on Shang Tsung. A spell he could never do but you did it without effort. His image of you changed. You were no fool or a pawn. You weren’t a useless subject that he couldn’t use. You were just a woman who gave people chances. That must be why Shang Tsung began to fancy you.

He would invite you to his island multiple times, growing upset occasionally when you had to decline for something reasonable. He would even allow your friends to join you just so he could have a chance to be close to you. Of course, some areas were off-limits. Nobody should find out about the flesh pits.

This would result in your friends teasing you to no end. They would ask you why you haven't made him your rich boyfriend already. He has a freaking island and treasures. But you always told them you were fine with being friends with him, much to his dismay. You’re not blind though, you’ve seen how Shang Tsung’s attitude towards you has been changing. From his choice of words down to his tone, he has become more flirtatious and alluring. He wanted to give you many gifts and spend more time with you. It didn’t even matter if you were sweeping his feet with a kick or listening to him talk about a new trick he could pull off with his sorcery, he wanted you close.

This is ridiculous. He is acting like a coward. It’s time to be bold and officially make you his.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Another visit to his island, what will you two do?

Shang Tsung surprised you with a dress the moment you walked into his throne room. The dress was gorgeous. It matched your preferred style and was in your favorite color. This was your dream dress that you never knew you needed.

“I had this dress made just for you. It was sewn by the finest designers in Outworld. I think you should try it on.” He laid the dress across your arms.

The material was soft velvet with the inside being smooth silk. The textures were comfortable for you. You smiled widely before running out of the room to try on the dress. After about five minutes he heard the door open. You walked in slowly as you looked down at how the dress hugged your body. You looked up at Shang Tsung with that same wide smile being present on your face.

“I think it looks perfect on me. What do you think?” You asked.

He walked closer to you, his eyes taking in your natural beauty. His heart beat harder against his chest in a way he had never felt before. It was a mixture of attraction, excitement, and possibly…love. He can’t say for certain since love is foreign to him. He is only going off of the fact that you are the only one who has made him feel this way.

“Such beauty…” He whispered, “It is so rare, yet I was lucky enough to find it.”

He took your hand into his. The cold metal of his clawed glove grazed over your delicate skin before he brought your hand up to his lips. He kissed the back of your hand just like the first time you two met except this was different. This was not a formal introduction but a display of his interest in you. Even when the kiss was done he didn’t let go of your hand. You didn’t mind at all. It made you feel warm in your cheeks and tingly in your heart.

Your eyes stared into his. You never realize the light that began to show in his dark eyes. Even in the moonlight, they seemed to shimmer at the sight of you. If you knew who he was before you met him you would realize there was no cocky tone in his smile. There was no hint of judgment or aggression with the way his eyebrows were positioned. He does not look down on you. You are as equal as him.

You will be as powerful as him once he creates his New Era. Everyone else will be his subjects that he will use to conquer the realms. But not you. Never you. He would not dare change a thing about you. You are perfect the way you are. You will be his perfect wife who will rule all the realms by his side. Whatever you want will be yours.

Still gotta make her your girlfriend, genius.

“We should put that dress to good use. What do you say?” He suggested.

“Wait, was this your way of asking me out on a date?” You asked in a playful tone.

“Perhaps it was. That is up to you, my dear.”

“You are a tricky man, Shang Tsung. But you are also very charming. I think a date would be a wonderful idea.”

Alright, now the cocky and smug smirk has come back. You know how to get him started. He loves some good praise.

“Excellent choice. I will make sure you will never regret this.”

Yap notes: I'm going to eat his flesh. Adiós!

[mlbigbang]

2023 Marichat & Ladrien Fic Rec List

It’s the end of the year which means it’s finally time for the ML Big Bang’s yearly fic rec lists! We’re really excited to bring you our contributors’ favourite fics started this year to supply you with plenty of reading material while you’re waiting for the Big Bang fics’ publication in January.

Boulangérella by @aidanchaser

Once upon a time, magic was wild. The two princes of the kingdom have been tasked with choosing their brides by the end of their 21st birthday celebrations. Crown Prince Adrien Agreste will have to choose between a woman who can protect his kingdom, a woman offering the power to wake his sleeping mother, and the woman he has loved and admired for the past year. Then there's also the seamstress that he is suddenly falling for. By the time he realizes he doesn't have the power to choose at all, it may be too late.

It's a creative Cendrillon retelling with the kwamis as fay, Adrien as the kingdom's prince and most wanted thief, and Marinette as the seamstess and superhero partner stealing Adrien's heart twice over.

Scary, like a little black purring kitten by @h-sunnywet-d

The calendar just turned into October, and Chat Noir has to make sure that his Good Friend Marinette appreciates the new season wholeheartadly. It sure won't backfire on the long run.

Just An Ordinary Girl by @kasienda

Chat Noir and the other heroes are in a bit of trouble, and Ladybug wanted just one weekend off! But luckily they know someone who can help. Someone who is just an ordinary girl…

you will never sleep alone (i'll love you) by @ladyofthenoodle

Marinette had saved up for months to be able to afford this vacation. Not only that, but she’d spent months trying to convince herself that it was okay to even take a vacation, that Monarch was really and truly gone. Which was why Tikki was at home with Alya, so that Marinette could actually relax and enjoy the plush amenities the hotel had to offer, such as a bed that looked like it cost five times her monthly salary. Or, she would be able to enjoy it, if she wasn’t standing in the middle of the villa she’d booked over a month ago, fighting for the bed with freaking Chat Noir, of all people.

May I introduce myself, Your Highness? by @chocoluckchipz

Whether picking up a stray animal off the streets or saving a dying child at the market, Adrien had always strived to be the best version of himself. Truly, he would've been the perfect candidate to be snatched up by a kwami, were he an orphan, dying somewhere remote after a short life full of nothing but suffering and misery. Yet as it stood, the sole heir to the French throne had little to complain about. Apart from, perhaps, a complete absence of a love life. That is until a mysterious girl, wandering around his gardens at night, catches his attention.

This fic has it all - Ladrien, royalty, fairy tale elements, magic and disguises! It's an enthralling read and one of my absolute favorite fics from 2023.

The Perfect Date by @peachcitt

“I dare you to ask this special someone on the date you just described.” “I totally will,” Adrien says with confidence, looking into the camera and nodding resolutely. “Scout’s honor.” He holds up the kitten as if swearing an oath. There is a space of silence. “Right now,” Hanna says. Adrien stares at her. “I’m daring you to ask that person out right now,” she says. or adrien has a little slip up during a live interview, and ladybug hears. for the golden hour zine!!

reserved by @luckyyoyo

“Don’t you think,” he coughed, a blush creeping up his cheeks, “this kind of thing should be.. reserved for my girlfriend?” He gestured to their poses. A squeak came from her mouth and her knees buckled, but surprisingly still had no struggle keeping Adrien up. “You know, you could always be my girlfriend.” Ladybug, saviour of Paris and local damsel-in-distress Adrien Agreste, suggests he gets a fake girlfriend to ward off his zombie fans. While lovingly holding him in her arms, of course. Adrien, far too comfortable in her arms, suggests it could be her. Introducing your superheroine pretend-girlfriend to your strict, uninterested father is a bit harder than Adrien realises.

Displaced by @kasienda

Adrien loosened his tie and dropped his suit jacket unceremoniously across the back of the sofa that was already cluttered with unopened boxes, mail, and unfolded laundry. He really should have listened to Nino and hired a maid or cleaning person of some sort. But well, he still had a secret to keep, and keeping that secret was more important to him than ever. He moved to his bedroom on autopilot without turning on the light, intending to collapse into bed immediately. But when he tried to slip into his space, he found it was already occupied. He flipped his phone flashlight on towards the ceiling to light the room in a soft glow. In his wife’s place, Ladybug lay sprawled diagonally across the bed.

here comes the rush before we touch (come a little closer) by @ladyofthenoodle

When an akuma attacks during Adrien Agreste's beach themed photoshoot on a dreary day in Paris, Ladybug is on the scene immediately. Unfortunately, with a glimpse of Adrien's alluring abdomen and without her partner, it's not long before she's hit, and Adrien with her—but maybe Ladybug can afford a little vacation with the boy she loves. He's certainly not complaining.

On Borrowed Time by @miabrown007

The life of Paris’ Golden Boy is all shine and glamour; blindingly bright smiles, neverending parties, bargaining for just a shard of time for being happy. But that’s alright; Adrien has long given up the false hope that someone will get it. That is precisely why it’s a spectacle when she does, when she barges in like a hurricane in crimson and turns his life upside down. Heaven knows, it’s time for the wind of change.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 19 - Cards against humanity.

Part 2 of Winter Wonderland!

Summary: The gang makes it to the cabins. Izuku and Y/N tries out the fluffy rug in front of the fireplace. The heroes play Cards Against Humanity (MHA version) while drunk. Things get out of hand really quickly.

Warnings: Swear words, suggestive, drinking, drunk shenanigans, absolutely vile Cards Against Humanity cards so please, be aware that this chapter contains a lot of uhm… stuff. 16 +

First Chapter Master List KO-FI page

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“I won, motherfuckers!” Katsuki yells victoriously as he makes it to the top of the mountain with Eijirou in his tail. Needless to say, everyone is in pieces; there’s so much panting going on, Rody is meters behind everyone, actually hyperventilating, you, Kyouka and Izuku are somewhere in the middle but only because Izuku gave you a piggy back ride (with black whip because he’s a good boy and he knows his limits.)

“I’m never… going camping with… heroes… ever again.” Rody pants, his legs shaking like a leaf.

“Who asked you to run with us, huh?” Katsuki retorts with a devilish smirk. “Know your place, weakling!”

“I thought… we are done … hating each other?!” Rody pants.

“This is how he loves, Rody.” Kirishima sighs.

“Jesus, stop fucking talking and sit the fuck down for a second, do you want to die or something?!” Katsuki yells with a red face, from embarrassment or just from the cold, no one will ever know.

The view is absolutely stunning up here; you can see the whole city underneath, the fairy lights connected to the street lights are sparkling happily, the snowflakes are massive but their flow is quite sparse at the moment so you can see everything perfectly as the snow doesn’t obstruct the view too much. Up on the mountain where you are standing right now, the snow is fresh and crisp, completely untouched except for the few imprints of your own shoes, the cabins are also covered in white, fairly lights attached to every single one of them, all sparkling in different colors to make the cabins distinguishable (probably in case someone gets too drunk to remember which cabin they rented. Haha).

“I’m sure I don’t really need to tell you who stays with who but I will do it anyway.” Shouto speaks up as well, clearly excited to be able to do his usual shenanigans. “First cabin: Hitoshi, Denki and Kyouka.” Kyouka and Denki cheers happily. Hitoshi looks… a little bit gobsmacked.

“You guys are getting the bigger cabin which has three separate rooms, so you can sleep alone if you need privacy or you can just use the massive master bedroom and have a sleepover!” Rody chimes in, picking up on the grumpy vibes coming from the lilac haired man.

“Oh, Rody! Do you mind sharing the other big cabin with us?” Yaomomo smiles.

“Yeah, that’s perfect for me!”

“With that said.” Shouto continues. “Momo, Rody and I will share the second cabin. Tamaki and Mirio will get the third one, Katsuki and Eijirou the fourth, which has a massive common space apparently, and Izuku and Y/N are getting the last cabin.”

“If there are any invisible individuals hiding in a bushes, please speak up now. The cabins will be locked overnight and it’s freezing outside.” Yaomomo adds, looking around with clear suspicion.

“Hagakure is not here.” Kyouka speaks up. “I personally asked if she would like to come but she’s away on a mission in America.”

“Splendid.” Momo mutters. “Please make sure to take some pictures for the people who couldn’t make it today. They might not be here in person but let’s make them feel included by sending them selfies and pictures of the place.”

“There’s no reception up here but there is wi-fi in the cabins! Don’t ask how they made that happen, but… yeah.” Rody scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

“Okay, so...” Momo continues. “This is where we usually give warnings, but seeing your faces, I think there is no need to do this today. But please, drink responsibly and don’t do stupid things. Only go outside in groups during the night.”

“Don’t go into the attached onsen while drunk. Trust me, it doesn’t end well if you do.” Rody chimes in, embarrassed. “Hot water and alcohol are a really bad combination.”

“Thank you for your helpful input, Rody! I’m glad to have another reasonable person in this group!”

“You guys know he only knows that because he fucking tried, right?” Katsuki mutters, rolling his eyes aggressively.

“That’s a fair point. But he learnt his lesson!” Mirio, the symbol of positivity adds.

“Hey, can you do something about that rainbow coming out of your ass? It hurts my eyes.” Katsuki makes a snarky comment, trying his best to sound menacing but he can barely hide his smile.

“Stop looking at my juicy peach then!” Mirio turns away, showing off his indeed juicy butt to the “audience” by bending over. The whole gang roars.

“Is this another gay thing I don’t understand?” Shouto asks his girlfriend with a bamboozled look on his face.

“I think it’s just a Mirio thing, to be absolutely honest.” Momo giggles with a fond look on her face. “Let’s go, guys!” She yells once more and everyone makes their way towards their respective cabin.

Izuku takes your hand in his and pulls you towards the cabin excitedly; you go without a single retort.

~•🥦•~

“This is so cute!” You yell excitedly right as you go through the main door.

This cabin looks so homey it makes you want to cry. Everything is wood and it’s just how you imagined it in your daydreams; there is a massive, cosy sofa full of blankets, almost the size of a normal living room, yellow fairy lights everywhere on the ceiling. There is a massive fireplace built into the wall, heat emanating from the fire that the staff has started before you arrived, filling the room with warmth and that lovely scent of burning wood.

“The fluffy rug!” Izuku points at the pure white rug by the fireplace exitedly. “It has a fluffy rug!” He doesn’t even let you put your backpack down before he pulls you towards it with childish glee.

“Izuku, we only have half an hour!”

“Shut up, wifey.”

“Izuku, what the hell?!” You giggle to yourself, given up on resisting quite quickly; Izuku takes that as a win and pulls you into his lap, slowly taking the backpack off your shoulders. He throws it on the massive sofa with the help of black whip, then lies down on the fluffy rug with you on top of him. Huh. This position is quite… uhm… suggestive. Huh, take a few deep breaths, will ya?!

You look down to see Izuku’s face and damn, that was a mistake; his hair is splayed out on the rug, his pine green hair even brighter in the sunlight coming in from the massive windows behind him; his face is pink from the cold, his eyes full of wonder as he looks up at you. You can’t help but lower yourself down, leaning on your elbows so you can look into those emerald eyes with nothing but love.

“Hi.” You mutter, your eyes slowly moving down to his puffy lips.

“Kiss me.”

That’s all it took to loose your composure. One sentence.

You kiss him with all you’ve got while Izuku’s hands snake inside your coat and your shirt and the touch sets your whole body ablaze; you slowly open Izuku’s own coat to be able to touch him properly, you hate all these layers, it’s way too hot in here, way too much for your little heart to take in, knowing it can’t go anywhere right now, but you can’t stop, you just can’t, his scent is so addicting, that citrusy pine, that hint of wood and sweat, it’s so Izuku…

You make a small whimper when you feel Izuku’s tongue dancing with yours while he pulls you closer and closer until every single one of your body parts touch.

“Calm down.” You mutter to him (and to yourself), your actions saying the opposite as you deepen the kiss even more. You’ll never get used to being able to this, to kiss the man of your dreams. Needless to say the half an hour passes before you can even put your stuff down properly; you can’t stop enjoying each other on the fluffy rug, probably smelly from all the sweat because heavily kissing in five layers of clothing is the stupidest thing you two could have done right before Katsuki’s grill party. Both of you start laughing as your alarm goes off.

“Well, uhm… should we roll in the snow for a few minutes before we go?” You snicker with your nose in Izuku’s neck.

“Should we just skip it and uhm… continue this?” Izuku retorts back. You can’t help but giggle once again.

“Do you want to die a slow, torturous death?”

“I’m quite sure I’ll be beaten to pulp the second we go through that door while looking like this anyway.”

“Fair point. Let’s go.” You try to pull yourself up but Izuku is not having it.

“One more kiss.”

… you got there half an hour late. I know, shocking.

~•🥦•~

“Today we are playing… drum beats please…” Denki’s body is about to burst from all the energy. Katsuki, still busy plating the food, stops for a second and beats on his thighs. “Thank you! We are playing… cards against humanity!”

The whole gang yells “NOOOOOOOO!”. Except for Denki and Katsuki. They look fucking thrilled.

“And I thought today will be easy.” Momo sighs exasperatedly.

“I want to go home.” Tamaki mutters to Mirio who only smiles at him.

“Okay guys, you don’t need to play if you don’t want to!” Denki retreats. “You guys can be the judges! So who’s playing?”

“Fuck yes!” Katsuki yells.

“I’m in!” Kirishima also joins.

“Hmm…” Izuku mutters then his smile changes into a shit-eating grin. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh my god, Izuku swore! Hell yeah, man!”

You swear you see some electricity crackling around Denki. Bro must me really excited.

“I think I want to try this game.” Shouto mutters as well.

“Amajiki and I will play together if that’s okay!” Mirio chimes in; bless him, he’s such a sweetheart for trying to keep the shy man in the loop without him being in the centre of attention, knowing way too much that he would probably shit himself if he’d need to read the cards out loud in front of all these people.

Momo, Rody, you and Hitoshi became the judges of the game. You have a feeling this will be a lot of fun.

~•🥦•~

“What would Granma find disturbing, yet oddly charming?” Rody reads out the question loud, buzzing from energy. “Come on, don’t disappoint me.”

The players are already laughing their ass off as they look through their cards. Rody collects the cards and can barely stop laughing.

“All Might’s massive thighs on your face. Wow. Kinky.”

“Shigaraki’s five hundred broken fingers.” Hitoshi reads the next one. “Wow. That’s a good one.”

“Deku’s Big, weird eyes.” You giggle as you read the next card. “That was Katsuki’s. Hundred percent.”

“Oh my god, I really don’t want to read this…. Hawk’s out of control blowjob parties.” Momo’s whole face flushes. The whole gang roars.

“Fat Gum’s soft belly. Awww!”

“Communism. This card is so dry it must have come from Shouto.”

“Fuck you, Rody.”

“Rude.”

~•🥦•~

“Bonus features include never-before-seen footage of…” Momo reads the next question.

This game is getting out of hand already.

“A severed horse penis being hurled at a politician. Okay who the fuck was that?” You giggle to yourself.

“Who the fuck do you think?” Katsuki replies with a shit eating grin.

“A sad, old man. Is that supposed to be an All Might reference?”

“You can NOT just call All Might a sad old man!” Izuku gawks, offended. Everyone ignores him.

“Wigs made of executed LOV members. That’s… wow.”

“All for One riding a baby horse. I need to see that.”

~•🥦•~

“You need to sit here and think about…” You read out the next question. The boys look more and more drunk as the game goes. Izuku is giggling to himself like an idiot the whole time and it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Stabbing a guy in the eye with an arrow, pulling it out and shooting another guy with it.”

Everyone looks at Katsuki. It’s just so obvious that it’s him.

“Casually suggesting a threesome. Someone needs to get laid.” Rody comments and Kyouka grins like an idiot.

“Throwing your dad into a dumpster and yelling “who’s the daddy now?”” You can’t help but literally snort out loudly at this one. “Okay, I don’t even care about the rest, this one wins.”

“It was me.” Shouto admits and the whole gang gawks at him.

“Damn, I’m impressed.” Even Katsuki can’t help but comment on this one.

“Momo says I have daddy issues.” He mumbles back with a straight face, his cheeks blushed from the alcohol.

Half of the team ends up on the floor, dying.

Kaminari resigns from the game and stays on the floor for the rest of the night.

~•🥦•~

“This year, I’m going to dedicate 100% of my energy to:” Hitoshi reads the card and takes one of the answer cards into his hand. “A Nomu wearing a tiny raincoat and booties. Okay, that’s quite disturbing but kinda cute.”

“You are cute.” Kaminari giggles, still on the floor, completely wasted. An exasperated sigh leaves Hitoshi’s mouth.

“You always talk nonsense when you are drunk.”

“You are cute though. Don’t sell yourself short buddy!” Rody smiles at the purple haired man who flushes aggressively.

“He can’t sell himself short. He’s tall.” Kaminari mutters and goes back to sleep. Your tummy hurts so much from all the laughing but you can’t help but laugh once again.

“Worshipping Stain’s right ear hole.” Momo snort sat this one. “This game has no filter.”

“Sucking Dynamight’s dick until it explodes.” You read the next card, flushing like a virgin.

“I like this game.” Katsuki laughs proudly. “The creator has a good taste.”

“Oh my god, Katsuki.” Eijirou giggles next him with an incredulous look on his face.

“What?” Katsuki retorts. “Feels nice to be appreciated!”

“Time to stop drinking, Kats. Your soft side is coming out.”

“Whatever.”

“Licking shoes.” Everyone looks at Shouto. Shouto just shrugs.

~•🥦•~

“Last round because you all had too much to drink.” Rody reprimands, looking at the pile of people on the floor. The only ones still paying are Mirio, Katsuki, Shouto and Izuku. Tamaki is still sober but he decided to sit in the corner, right next to the pile of people to “keep an eye on them”. It’s absolutely hilarious. You can’t help but take a picture of it. Hitoshi looks like he’s ready to kill as he stares at Denki and Kyouka snuggled up on the floor, right next to the fireplace. No one comments on it. They are too terrified of drunk Hitoshi to do so. “Who’s hot and smelly and about to die?”

“A fucked up alien fish from the deep.” You read the first card.

“All for one’s hope for a “better” future. Damn.” Rody laughs.

“Red Riot’s popularity.” At that, Katsuki smirks right at his drunk fiancé who gives him a side glare for being an asshole. “Oi, it was a joke, you are literally the hottest man walking on Earth.”

When Momo reads the last card, she almost chokes on their saliva.

“We have a winner, guys.” She smirks and shows the card to the rest of the team.

The card simply says…

“Endevour.”

“Jesus fuck, I’m dying.” Katsuki laughs like a maniac, reading out the card out loud. Even Kaminari wakes up to the loud laughter that seems to never end. Izuku is literally crying at this point.

“Oh my god, I will burn in hell for laughing at this but… I can’t stop!”

“Izuku, take a deep breath!” You whine, still laughing your ass off.

“One extra round?” Katsuki smirks at the his friends and he completely ignores the group’s loud “NOOOOOO!” And takes a card from the pile. It’s a two card one, this time. “Okay fuckers, let’s take 5 more extra cards and let’s have some fun with it.” Katsuki gives the card to you to read it out loud.

“Dying from - something - is painless, but I would still prefer -something-. Three, two, one, go!”

This time, everyone reads their own cards out loud because the drunk idiots forgot how to play this game. It’s only Katsuki, Shouto and Mirio in the game now, Izuku laughed so much he made himself sick and now he’s resting in your lap, trying not to throw up. He’s so silly sometimes, honestly.

“They say dying from a tiny dick is painless, but I would still prefer sex with a blindfold.” Katsuki smirks, clearly proud of his own creation.

“Not today, babe.” Kirishima mumbles from the floor and that’s when the whole team roars. Katsuki looks like he’s about to explode.

“They say dying from shame is painless but I would still prefer another war with All for One.” Mirio reads his own answer with a massive smile on his face.

“Damn.”

“They say dying from a firm tofu is painless, but I would still prefer choking on pro hero Deku’s humongous dick.” Shouto KILLS everyone with his his answer. At least half of the gang has tears in their eyes.

Izuku chokes on his own saliva then laughs for a few minutes with his hands on his belly and… runs to the toilet to throw up.

“Emotional damage.” Hitoshi mumbles, smiling like an idiot.

Shouto somehow wins the game. His reward is one of Kaminari’s concoctions that was left on the kitchen counter. Shouto joins Izuku in the toilet a few minutes later.

“Why can’t you guys party like normal people?” Momo sighs, already sobered up.

“Why can’t you pull that stick out of your ass and relax for once?”

“Oh, you mean this one?” Momo creates a random stick from her lower back instead of her tummy, making the whole gang roar once again. It really looked like she just took that out of her ass, bless her creativity for that.

“Katsuki, I can’t laugh anymore. I’m in agony.” Eijirou whimpers on the floor, completely, utterly done with life. You must admit, he looks extremely hot, disheveled like that. Like damn, that guy is a fucking snack. Good job, Katsuki. Good fucking job.

Okay, you definitely had way too much to drink today.

“I’ll get Izu-Izu from the toilet.” You mutter as you stand up from the sofa.

“I’ll take the three bozos home then come back for Shouto.” Momo sighs as he makes his way towards the pile of people on the floor.

“I’ll help!” Tamaki SMILES at her and the whole team gawks. “What? I had fun. And Denki gave me his drink to finish.”

“Oh no, he’s been tainted with the Denki juice.” Hitoshi mumbles. Tamaki answers by growing a potato on his arm. “Huh. I guess there was vodka in it.”

Needless to say, NO ONE makes it home after that. At least the floor is nice and warm, thanks to the lovely fireplace in the wall. Katsuki doesn’t even look surprised, he just throws a bunch of blankets on everyone and lies down next to Eijirou, giggling to himself happily.

“Best party ever.”

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @themultifandomgirl @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave @alyss-eiz @sleepisfortheweakpooh

[sommerflue-22]

Little Things They Do... (Pt. 3)

Little things they do to show you they love you

Read the other parts: Part 1 // Part 2

Featuring: Reiner Braun, Annie Leonhart, Pieck Finger, Zeke Jaeger, Bertholdt Hoover, Porco Galliard

Warning: Modern setting

Word Count: 748

Author Note

Hi! This will be the last of the series. I've linked the previous parts for you to read. Here's the song I listened to while writing this. I feel like this part is more gloomy because hey I'm kind of a mess rn haha. I hope you still enjoy it, tho. Again, these actions can be perceived platonically or romantically, whatever suits you.

Reiner

Reiner worries about you a lot even though you're a grown adult, fully capable of doing stuff on your own. When you both are apart from each other, you keep each other updated. What you both are doing, where you're at, who you're with. After you got your own car, Reiner text you to drive safe all the time. Especially when you're alone or during the winter. He can help you if you cut your finger when cooking, he can help you if you're sick from walking in the rain, but he can't really help you if anything happens while you're driving alone. He doesn't want to think of the worst case scenario. Whatever your relationship is with him, whether it's romantic or platonic, he doesn't want to lose you.

Annie

Annie is not the type of person who will explicitly say she loves you. She is also not a big fan of physical contact. You are no exception, but she really does care for you a lot. So, whenever you're out with her and need to cross a street, she will hold your hand. She doesn't ask you if you need help crossing the street, nor does she glances at you and smile (like you often sees in movies). Annie just automatically holds your hand and leads you forward, looking both ways to make sure everything is safe.

Pieck

Pieck is a busy lady, okay? She works hard, every single day. She's highly professional and her colleagues count on her a lot. However, when it's just the two of you, she puts away any mental to-do list or any work-related stuff. She just wants to be with you, listening to you talking. She pays attention to you and you only. Of course, she will talk about work if you ask her about it. Though, she'd rather spend her free time not worrying about work. She feels like she can relax and be her everyday, cheerful self with you.

Zeke

Having a relationship in general is not easy, but having a relationship with Zeke is definitely on the next level. He can be stubborn at times, and even though he doesn't mean it, he might say things that hurt you. Not to mention, his *cough* family issue. Loving Zeke, as a friend or as a lover, is not easy. You both argue a lot, often times resulting in one of you taking time away from the other. Most of the time, it's you who request a time off. Now, Zeke is quite a prideful man alright. He doesn't go mushy and beg you to stay. He let you go be alone for a few days, but eventually he will be the one who apologizes first. He doesn't do that with other people, but he does for you. Because you never leave him, and he would love to keep it that way.

Bertholdt

Bertholdt can be shy at times, especially when he just met someone for the first time. Maintaining eye contact while someone else is talking to him can be difficult. He felt uncomfortable, like the other person might discover who he really is just by staring into his eyes. How insecure he feels sometimes, the dark thoughts that he keeps for lonely nights, and other things private. You are the only exception. You don't judge, you show him that hey, it's alright to be a little messed up sometimes. You've seen him in states that nobody else has ever seen, even his parents. That is why he's not afraid to look into your eyes. He appreciates you, and he lets you in.

Porco

Porco can be passive-aggressive at times and most of the time he might think he's always right, especially when it has been a long day for him. People might start an argument, or they'll let it go while mentally cursing the man. You, on the other hand, you're one of the few people who can deal with him. Instead of starting an argument (causing him to get worked up) or walking away (and seeing him with a smug expression), you just simply say "Alrighty~ Agree to disagree" It's a new response that Porco didn't anticipate, and you say it with the most chill tone/expression. After awhile, he tried not to be so snappy and cocky with you. He even gives up his need to always be right. You can tell him the rain happens because the angels are taking a piss, and he'll just nodded. "Whatever you say..."

Idk man, I just really love Bertholdt, Reiner, and Zeke. Precious men. Deserves better. I love them.

Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy it. Lemme know what you think in the comment :)

[shepherds-of-haven]

Okay I saw this asked on another blog and it was hilarious so I have to ask here : what do you think inner circle’s Beige Flags are? ( weird/quirky or questionable things they do that give you pause but overall have no real effect on the relationship)

Also hope you are feeling better!! 🩵🩵

Ooh, this is a fun one haha! (And I'm feeling a bit better, thank you! I still haven't fully recovered, but getting there slowly but surely! 🥲) Anyway, let me think...

Blade: rather than accompany you into shops (especially small ones), he assumes you want to be left alone to do your shopping in peace (and also typically finds shopping boring) and will instead just stand outside the door, looming like a really intimidating security guard or bouncer. (He is assessing street security, guarding the only door, and positioning himself within shouting distance in case there's some kind of threat.) This often inadvertently drives away business, so sometimes he'll just wait at the end of the street instead, staring out at the crowd like a member of your own personal secret service

Trouble: sometimes he eats too fast, or more accurately talks too fast while eating, leading to frequent inhalation down the wrong pipe and people having to thump him on the back while he coughs. Sometimes he will power through the coughing by sheer force of will and will just... forcefully swallow through it. He refuses to slow down. Life's too short to try to avoid death by choking

Tallys: doesn't make a ton of affirming noises to let you know that she's listening. A lot of people go "uh-huh" or "wow" or "right" or whatever when you're in the midst of telling a long-winded story. She just stares at you patiently in silence until she's sure you're fully done. This is polite in Elven culture, and she is completely listening, but it can unnerve people who feel pressured by silence lol

Shery: she still has to look at her hands to tell left from right. Like sometimes she has to make her left hand form the L to remember 😅 She also finds it difficult to do math in her head and either has to sketch it out in the air or write it down!

Riel: always leaves a bite or two of food left on his plate; rarely completely cleans his plate. Same with drinks! So many teacups that always have a few sips left at the bottom. Why didn't you just drain it, man? It's like he does it on purpose!

Chase: always takes the most meandering, inefficient way to get to a place. like if the walk from A to B is a straight line down one avenue, he always seems to take the most roundabout, random path. Here, I'll draw you a map:

Red: he is very bad at matching the pace of his walking with others; with those long legs, he walks at a naturally and totally subconscious fast pace! He's mindful about it when on a date or actively courting someone, but when he's focused on something else, excited, traveling, or out and about with friends, he has to frequently be asked to shorten the length of his strides so others can keep up lol

Ayla: I've mentioned this one for her before, but she's very bad about sharing her food. She hates when you snatch a fry off her plate without asking, and even if you do ask, she can be fairly begrudging about it if she perceives food is plentiful (like "why can't you get your own, the line is right there?") In work circumstances, like sharing group rations, she's totally fine, but in restaurants or in the refectory, she's annoyed by it, like "I loaded this plate for myself and planned on eating all of it... myself 😒 If you wanted to share something, you should have said so earlier!"

Briony: she's constantly whipping people in the face with her ponytail. She tends to turn her head really fast or spin around in conversation and whoever's standing near her ends up with a mouthful of hair. She hasn't learned to not smack people in the eye with her hair yet despite several remonstrations

Lavinet: frankly shocked, upset, and scandalized whenever there isn't a little something sweet at the end of a meal. it doesn't have to be a full-on dessert--even a single chocolate served on a plate would do, and is often preferred! but when there's nothing?? nary a profiterole or cream puff or a little sweet treat for the lady in sight?? something is off!! her palette isn't satisfied!!

Halek: he always wakes up in the morning so loudly. unfold from the bed -> crack his back, neck, shoulders with the most ungodly series of pops -> loud groan. It sounds like an old accordion getting stretched out

[simonsomeriley]

please would you write for Ellie x doctor!reader in Jackson who looks after everyone and helps Ellie out after a patrol one day!

your wish is my command <3

1.3k words | gn!reader

You're walking on the slippery ice on the road of Jackson, you hear the sounds of children giggling through the streets, everything here just feels like home.

Even with the worries of whats going on outside, the little community you've all built together makes it at least a little bit better. Being able to help the people of your community, the children. Makes it all better, day by day.

In the morning, the elders go outside for their chit-chats and their coffee, watching the kids run outside. Playing football, drawing with chalk, finally being able to let kids be kids again.

The evenings are spent doing your jobs and your tasks, gathering supplies like wood, water refills, & food, the chefs are in the kitchen cooking up what they can make of what they have.

You, on the other hand, spend your evenings in the medical supply tent. Putting cartoon bandaids on kids' knees after they fall, stitching up some people who have fallen on the ice. And what you do best, take care of your self-proclaimed "hunters" after they've been out on patrol.

And the night time is spent with dim lights, cleaning up, & getting children ready for bed.

Your medical tent is usually up 24/7, just in case an emergency happens past usual work hours. If there has been a lot of cases in one day, usually the nice older lady that runs the bakery will get you a sweet treat as a reward.

You're just cleaning up the tent per usual in the afternoon, mopping the floor and sanitizing what tools you have. There had been Ellie's turn to go on patrol today, Ellie and Jessie together. They'd left a couple of hours ago, nothing seemingly out of order. Usually they'd stay out until it got dark, or in Joel's words "Testing God's patience."

You hear the sound of hooves, galloping, humans running to open the gates & lots of loud talking. It dies down after a while, you decide that it wasn't anything urgent. Assuming that if it was, you'd probably be called over for some look-overs for serious injuries.

You hear someone enter your tent, you look up from where you're sterilizing some needles. It's Jesse. He's alone. You'd just assumed Ellie came hand-in-hand with Jesse, realizing now that it wasn't the case.

"Anything happen, Jesse? Anything I need to get my emergency kit out for?" Jesse looks around, like he's familiarizing his surroundings, "Nah. To me? No. Ellie could use some help, though. Hopefully nothing too serious. She got some infected hangin' off of Shimmer,"

You stand up, gathering some items off of your desk and putting them in an over the shoulder bag, "She's fine though, right? No injuries, just some bruising I'm assuming?"

"If you're talking about the horse, Shimmer's fine. If you're talking about the human, Ellie's not lookin' too hot. Luckily the infected got off by the time we neared the gates. Think she hit her head pretty hard, though."

You walk over to the opening of the tent, where Jesse's standing in the makeshift "doorway", "I'll have a look at 'er. Make sure you get the horses in the stables, okay?"

Jesse backs up, walking out of the tent, "Sure, mom. Good thing there wasn't any major weather. The infected were hiding under the already fallen snow. No way to figure out whether there'd be infected under there or not. I'd say we made it out pretty good for how many of those monsters were out there,"

You're walking towards the gate now, some people are gathered there & discussing patrol curfew, horses & partners. You spot Joel by Ellie's side though, seemingly she looked fine a tad bit, bruised, with some minor cuts, you spotted no extreme injuries or anything major.

Jesse's walked over to the stables now, you approach Ellie with your bag over your shoulder, "How're you holding up, Ells? You aren't looking so hot,"

She whips her head around at the sound of your voice, from where she's standing talking to Joel. "I'm fine," of course. The default, tiring, awkward response. I'm fine.

"Really, I could take you to the tent and just get you checked over. Make sure you don't have any deeper-than-skin injuries that'll affect you later,"

She seems to nod and sigh in defeat, the all stubborn girl she is, and she walks with you by your side back to the medical tent.

"Jesse told me about the infected. Seemed pretty intense out there, huh? Glad Shimmer's alright and you aren't missing any limbs,"

She holds eye contact as you speak, looking away at the end of your sentence and widening her eyes, "Yet. Never know how many of those guys are out there, y'know? It's hard to tell in the winter time. S'like they run on freezing weather or something,"

You lift up the entrance of the tent for her as she leans down to get under it, "You're reckless, you know that? You should be more careful. Like Joel says, you only live once, at least make it worth the while," she winces as she bends down, and she tries to cover it up. You notice.

You sit her down at a chair with a pillow on the seat, "You're not very good at pretending, do you know that?"

The smug grin on her face tells you enough.

You dampen a washcloth in the sink, bringing it over to her and wiping at the dried blood stains on her face. Most of it disappears without trace. That's good, that means it's mostly coming from one place. Not many wounds.

She has an indent in her upper lip. You take note of it.

You ask her to take off her jacket, leaving her in just her band t-shirt and her jeans. You check her arms for any wounds, and once you reckon you've found every injury, you get out your needle and thread.

You figure the cut in her upper lip would heal on its own, recommending her some cleaning solution to keep on her bedside table.

You sew the cut in her arm together, from what looks like could broken glass or a hard slam against the ground.

You put a band-aid over the stitching, and you're now instructing her on how to keep the cut on her upper lip clean. She's completely out of focus with what you're saying.

You keep rustling in your stash, finding the cleaning solution and q-tips at last, demonstrating how to take care of it.

Her eyes are only focused on you. She watches you like you hung the moon and the stars up in the sky.

You come back to your senses after ranting about cleaning wounds & how to do it at home, and you realize that she's closer to your face than what you remembered. You could almost feel her cold-minty breath on your face if you focused hard enough. Her pupils are dilated.

It's been quiet for a while. Neither of you notice or bring it up. It's a comfortable quiet. A shared silence.

You feel her lip graze yours. You want to stop her. You want to tell her off for this so bad, you'd say, "Ellie, you have a fresh cut on your lip. This isn't a good idea," but still. You can't bring yourself to say it. Not when her closeness feels this good. This right.

She asks permission. After sitting in silence for the past couple of minutes, she asks permission, "Can I?" you freeze. You don't know what to say.

Her eyes are on you. You feel her heart rhythm. Her breathing. You nod your head to the best of your abilities when your head feels this clouded from her attention.

She leans in close, and the gap between your lips closes. You feel her lips on yours for long, a sweet, heart-warming kiss. You can practically feel her smirk against your face before you pull away.

"Might have to be reckless more often if this is what I get out of it,"

[megalony]

Hiii love!

I have a request for a Swat one shot, Street x reader.

Absolutely LOVE your writing and it excites me so much that you are writing for Swat too since it’s one of my favorite tv shows as well as 911 and sadly the Swat imagines are not that popular but with your amazing writing I’m more than sure I will enjoy anything you write about the crew ✨

Also I know in the first seasons when Karen goes to live with Jim he lives in an apartments but can we change it up and have him live in an area sort of like the one Deac live in.

So the idea goes: Reader and Street are married and they recently found out they are pregnant, around month 4-5, Jim’s mom gets out of jail and comes to live with them, Jim and reader had disagreements about Karen living with them since reader saw right through her scheme of how she manipulated Jim and also Karen doesn’t like the reader even going as far as encouraging Jim to leave her saying how she’s no good for him and what not but Jim being the amazing husband he is that’s where he never listened to her demands, ultimately reader just gives up about Karen living with them and the first few weeks they are both civil to one another but after awhile Karen starts mistreating the reader when they are alone starting from just saying stuff to her up to sabotaging things from her work, baby stuff they have bought with Jim and all the sorts, Reader eventually tells Jim all about this and how sacred she is this might get worse but Jim doesn’t believe her since Karen still has her claws on him and tells him maybe it’s the pregnancy that starts affecting her brain and how he knows she’s never liked her and is just trying to get rid of her from their apartment basically manipulating him once again to not believe her after hearing this reader and Jim fight and reader leaves to stay with a friend while things settle down at home since she doesn’t feel safe in her home anymore, eventually Jim looks for her they talk it out and she comes back, after a few days reader is the the nursery room putting away some things her and Jim had bought the day prior and Karen comes barging to the room on a rage rampage and just starts throwing anything she finds within arms length to the floor, reader tries to find a way to get out of the room scared Karen can harm her and the baby, she manages to get to the stairs but before she’s able to go down she feels how Karen grabs her and makes her loose her balance making her fall down the stairs, Jim was out on call that day and he decided to invite the team back to relax after the call they had and also the guys had promise to help build up the crib since he had trouble setting it up and some other furniture they bought not that long ago (yk since they are more than coworkers, they are family), when they got there they heard all this commotion coming from upstairs so they all rushed in thinking someone broke in but they were to late since when to got in they were only able to see the reader falling down after Karen grabbed her and witnessing the whole scene, Jim rushes reader to the hospital since she was not waking up, he was worried about her and the baby, some members of the team stayed back to deal with Karen and made sure she didn’t try to disappear others went with Jim, a few hours passes and everybody is in the waiting room waiting for update on reader and Jim is sort of groveling asking himself why he didn’t believe her when she first started mentioning all the things his mother was doing/saying to her, eventually the doctor tells them reader is stable and for her partner to go with him so Jim goes with the doctor and discusses her health and the baby’s with both of them, Jim is relieved she’s okay but the doctor tells them this was a close call and how reader has to be on bedrest for the rest of the pregnancy since it was an ugly fall, they eventually hear baby’s heartbeat to reassure them baby is okay, because of this Karen is sent back to prison, Jim cuts all contact with her after harming the two people he loves most, reader has an easy rest of her pregnancy despite being in bed rest, her and Jim fixed their relationship and now trust each other blindly and with the help of their Swat family they were feeling more than thankful for having such amazing persons being there for them.

Hope you liked the idea love! No pressure if you don’t feel it and feel like changing some things, you’re the expert here this is just an idea that popped in my head around 3 am after binging Swat 🤪

Hello 👋

Wow!!!

Thank you for the details I had such a structured plan to go from and it really helped me write quicker and I didn’t have to think of the plot at all!!

So I’ve split it into two parts- there was far too much detail to put this all into one- and I hope it’s gone how you want it.

Let me know what you think and thank you for sending this to me I absolutely loved it

Family Matters

Part 2

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