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withlovemark · 11 months

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all of the moments that led me to you.

warning: steve's black eye (nothing new), violence, mentions of blood, a fight between steve x billy

pairing: steve x reader, light billy x reader (not really, this isn't a love triangle lol)

words: 4.5k+

summary: the title speaks for itself -- a series of moments with steve harrington

an: i was going to post everything as one fic but i kind of hit writer's block in the middle of year 1985 so i'll post this for now instead and hopefully gain some inspiration to continue :)

yr. 1984

i. the first meeting ft. dustin henderson

the words “code red” hitting your ears every five seconds, the stomping of feet running around the house, the back door opening and closing several times - babysitting is weird. not one kid is ever the same, some are easy-going, others can be a real pain in the ass.

you hoped you got an easy kid today. one that just stays in front of the television, binging on crackers and occasionally asking for your help. obviously, you were wrong.

if it wasn’t for the fact that it pays well while simultaneously allowing you to do some of your own studies and looking good on your college resume, you wouldn’t even be here.

but you are here. seated inside the henderson household.

“hey y/n, can you please drive me to my friend mike’s house?,” dustin runs into the living room, an exasperated expression on his face, interrupting your reading.

“are you okay?” you ask, worried about the kid you just met when his mother called an hour ago trailing on about how she saw your babysitting flyer some time back. and even though she knew that she had to book a date at least two days beforehand, she still asked if you could watch over her son.

“just for today” she said, as she needed to look for her missing cat. her promise of double pay, convincing you to accept her request.

“i’m fine, i just really need you to drive me to mike’s,” dustin says hurriedly, eyes hopeful that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions.

“why?” you ask and the boy’s shoulder slumps, doing his best to not roll his eyes at your persistence. he’s obviously not used to asking for permission.

“i uhm forgot my book there and i really, really need it to study for my exam tomorrow,” he sends you a toothy grin, trying to convince you that that was all there is to it. you’re no fool. you notice the slight change in his voice, his fingers anxiously playing with his pockets, right leg slightly bouncing up and down - indications that he’s lying.

“you know your mom’s not paying for my gas, right?” you reason, not wanting to give in to his request and hoping you could just have a calm afternoon.

dustin sighs, his smile disappearing, “fine. i’ll just go behind your back and bike there and if i end up missing or in a ditch somewhere then it’ll be your fault,” he counters, personality quickly switching from the boy who said “please.”

you sat there, flabbergasted, “are you…blackmailing me right now?” an eyebrow raising, you couldn’t believe how diabolical the curly headed boy is.

“i’m not blackmailing you. i’m simply telling you what's going to happen if you don’t drive me,” he smiles, an almost devilish smile, tone hardening with every word and you truly do not know whether you’re terrified or impressed.

letting out a quiet chuckle, you shake your head, “alright, c’mon kid,” you say, grabbing your car keys off the table, “but we’re going back as soon as you get it.”

——

you should’ve known not to trust him, finding yourself hurriedly getting into the back seat of the car of the last person you ever expected to interact with - steve harrington.

pushing his forgotten red roses towards the other end of the car, you take your seat in the middle.

“wh-what are you doing?” dustin turns from the passenger seat, facing you as steve takes in your presence, eyes on his rearview mirror, a confused expression evident on his face.

“y/n l/n?,” he questions, finally remembering where he has seen you before, “you’re in nancy’s grade?,” he asks, more a question for himself than you.

you nod, “steve harrington,” acknowledging his presence for the first time.

“why are you with dustin?” he wonders. he didn’t know much about you. only that you and nancy were sometimes studying in the library together. she’s told him before that you always get the top grades in class and she wanted to be around more motivated people like you.

“i’m his babysitter and i’m coming with,” you simply answer his question, keeping the explanation short. it’s weird enough that you were inside the car of hawkin high’s famous “king.”

“since when did you have a babysitter dude,” steve reverts his attention back to dustin.

“i'll explain later,” dustin reassures him quickly before turning back to you, “and uhm, you don’t have to come, i have steve now,” he points to the guy in the driver seat like you don’t see him.

from what you’ve heard about steve, you’re not sure you trust leaving the young boy with him. he’s known for being notorious, having bad company and overall, just a guy with the money, the looks and the popularity that somehow has every girl wanting him and every boy wanting to be him. you’re not sure how that guy can be trusted with kids.

subconsciously, you eye steve suspiciously, causing him to put two hands up in surrender “hey, i have no idea what’s happening either,” he defends, shrugging nonchalantly.

snapping out of your daze, you focused your attention back on dustin, “look dustin, steve isn’t the one being paid to watch you right now,” you start to explain.

“hold on, you’re getting paid for this?” the older boy interrupted.

you ignore him, attention still on dustin, “if something were to happen to you, your mom would be looking for me. i’m responsible for you kid, i-,”

“fine! there’s no time,” he cuts you off, obviously in a rush.

“you can come, just,” dustin contemplates, already regretting the words that slipped from his lips, “just don’t blame me for getting you into this thing.”

at that, steve snaps back to reality, “wait, wait, wait, if this ‘thing’ is about ‘that’ then she definitely can NOT come,” steve declared, his voice laced with a seriousness you didn’t think he could have.

“well, are you going to drag her out of the car so she doesn’t find out about this thing?,” the younger boy replies, a sarcastic tone evident on his lips.

“guys, i can hear you,” you piped in, eyes going back and forth between the two boys, having absolutely no clue what they’re referring to.

“dustin, im not joking ok!,” steve ignores you, “we can’t tell people about this,” a serious expression appearing on his face, one you’ve never seen on him before, “we’ll get in trouble, you know that. besides, we shouldn’t involve anyone else into this anyway!,” he protested.

he didn’t sound like the steve you would hear about at school. he sounded responsible, protective. he sounded like…a babysitter.

“i know that steve, that’s why i told her to leave!,” dustin shouted.

“well, she’s clearly still sitting in the backseat of my car!,” steve’s voice raises with every syllable.

“can someone just explain what’s happening?” you try butting in, rolling your eyes, completely fading into the background as they continue their bickering.

“i don’t see YOU trying to do anything about it!,” dustin throws the argument back to steve, his patience on thin ice.

“she’s YOUR babysitter!,” steve points out yet again, ears turning red, veins popping and finally pushing the young boys’ limit.

“fuCK!, we don’t have time for this steve, we really have to go NOW!” dustin shouts, losing his temper.

steve, ready to reprimand him, before you decide you’ve had enough.

the series of “thing” and “this” has your mind spinning and your curiosity getting the best of you.

“SHUT UP!” gaining the two boys’ attention, their bodies turning towards you, “both of you. shut. up.” you enunciate, loud and clear.

“i promise i won’t blame you…or you,” glancing at the two boys, “for whatever the hell this thing is…just put your seatbelts on and drive,” ending their argument as you sat behind the passenger seat, clicking your own seatbelt into place.

steve gives up, letting out a sigh, “fuck it,” before finally stepping on the gas.

ii. the babysitters and an angry billy hargrove

you should have never picked up mrs. henderson’s call and you definitely shouldn’t have agreed to babysitting. what was the point of having your own terms and conditions when you didn’t even follow them yourself?

you should, however, have listened to steve and dustin when they told you to leave.

the day isn’t even over yet and you’re already questioning everything you knew. in a span of a couple of hours, you have been introduced to a world you couldn’t even imagine. having to pinch yourself a couple of times to make sure you weren’t just dreaming.

everything was strange.

you’ve spent the whole afternoon dropping meat, trying to bait something called a demogorgon. met steve’s spiked bat. got questioned regarding your relationship with billy hargrove from his very own red headed step-sister. came face to face with the said demogorgon, who, by the way, had demogorgon friends and were actually a pack of demodogs. almost died in a junkyard. walked in the dark woods just to end up in a creepy laboratory. felt the awkward tension between steve, nancy and jonathan. understood why will byers was called the zombie boy. stood behind steve while holding a random kitchen knife you grabbed from the byers’ kitchen — and to top it all off, encountered a little girl who flung the finally, very dead demogorgon through the window then unlocked the front door, all using only her mind.

in conclusion, monsters and superpowers aren’t just a thing people read in their comic books.

“how are you holding up?” steve breaks you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping to his voice.

everyone else has left, leaving you the only two teenagers to act as the adults once again.

the strangest thing of all of this was somehow, steve harrington went from being the popular jock to a guy whose simple presence can provide you comfort. everything you knew about him has changed.

it’s amazing what shared trauma could do.

you shoot him a small smile, “well, i definitely wasn’t expecting all this,” you look around the mess around you, “to be a part of that thing” you refer back to the boys’ banter, trying to keep the energy light despite everything that happened.

he gives you a sheepish smile, almost like he was sorry, regretting that he allowed you to be a part of this.

“it’s not your fault. i chose to come,” you say, reading his thoughts and putting an end to them.

“where did you put the demogorgon?” you continue, changing the subject, reassuring him that you were ok. at least, as much as anyone could be ok in this situation.

“we stuffed it in the fridge,” he shakes his head, arms crossing, like he couldn't believe it himself, “‘for science’ dustin said,” steve quotes the younger boy with a grin.

“right, of course, all the important things,” you chuckled, matching his grin as the two of you continued to clean the broken fragments that have scattered around the house.

you thought it was over, that you could all just wait for everything else to unfold in peace but after a few minutes of silence, the kids were back on their feet, ready to "get off the bench.” you’re not sure how steve has the energy to continue arguing with them when you’re completely exhausted.

the sound of an engine brings a silence to the house, max running towards the blinds recognizing the car that has made an appearance in the driveway, “shit, it’s billy, he can’t see me,” she says frantically, eyes meeting yours, a silent call for help.

“i got it, just hide,” you hushly ordered, quickly making your way to the front porch. steve tried pulling you back but you were out the door before anyone could protest, resulting in him looking through the peephole.

billy’s momentarily confused expression at your arrival wasn’t lost on you and if you were in his shoes you’d probably have the same one on, “hey sweetheart, what are you doing here?,” his husky voice taking up space in the cold, night air.

standing a couple steps away from him, his hand immediately finds a spot on your waist, pulling you closer. you placed a hand on his chest to keep some distance between the two of you, aware of the audience you have, “i’m babysitting a kid, his friend lives here,” you explain, smiling sweetly at him, hoping that he won’t suspect anything and leave as soon as he came.

“have you seen my sister?” he asks breathily, face inching closer and closer to yours, a smirk on his lips. if it was any other day, you would have enjoyed his attention, maybe even be up for some fun. right now though, you just want him as far from max as possible.

“no, why would she be here?,” feigning innocence, you hope he believes your lie.

“she’s been hanging out with a couple of kids here, a bunch of bad influences,” he huffed, eyes quickly glancing around you before pulling you even closer.

“i haven’t seen her, she’s probably at the arcade, have you checked?,” you hope he doesn’t hear the shakiness in your voice.

“you know what i like about you sweetheart?,” he muttered, placing a harsh kiss below your ear, his grip on your waist starting to dig into your skin. you know he has caught you.

“you can’t lie for shit,” pulling you away from him, gaze darkening, he howled with laughter as you followed his line of vision, seeing four kids peeking through the window — one, with very bright red hair.

frustrated curses slip from your lips as you shoot them an angry glance before billy grabs your wrist, dragging you right behind him as he pounded on the door, coming face to face with steve.

“harrington, am i dreaming or is that you?,” he mocks, his hold on your wrist tightening.

“yeah it’s me, don’t cream your pants,” steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips like a disappointed mother.

steve notices you wince under billy’s hold, “let her go man,” he orders, taking a step towards the wider boy.

billy focuses his attention back on you, for a second you see a feeling of betrayal flash through his eyes but that was quickly replaced with a snarled expression, like he was completely disgusted with the thought of you.

“is there a reason why you both are here alone?” his dark voice causes goosebumps to rise throughout your body.

you’ve heard of how violent he can be but until right now, he has never shown that side to you.

“what are you saying?,” you almost couldn’t recognize him anymore, breath hitching in your throat.

“are you fucking him behind my back, sweetheart?,” billy’s voice grew menacing, “you know i don’t like to share,” he continued accusing you, his free hand coming in contact with your neck, forcing you to look at him.

“dude, no. we’re babysitting,” steve answers for you and motioning towards the kids like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“you’re hurting her,” he emphasized, “just let her go,” gently stepping closer, steve has his arms slowly reaching for you, hands up, a signal that he comes in peace.

steve hopes billy will focus his attention on him instead, just wanting to get you out of there. he feels responsible for your safety and well-being.

“gladly…” billy shot him an evil smirk, “you can’t trust bitches anyways right, harrington?,” he scowled, violently throwing you against the wall.

your head makes a direct impact with the concrete, causing you to fall to the ground, a whimper slipping through your lips. you hear the kids' screams and a punch being thrown as you feel your vision slipping between darkness and light.

you make out dustin running towards you and grabbing your hand, trying to get you to sit up. a couple of unsuccessful tries, he pleads “i’ll come back okay, just stay alive,” as he makes his way back to his friends.

the proceeding events were all a blur and it felt like you were watching it through static television. one moment you can hear victorious cheers. the next moment, you hear something break and steve is suddenly lying on the floor a couple feet away from you, bloody faced and barely breathing. billy continuously throws his punches and the kids scream in fear. you try to get up but your body betrays you, only allowing you to reach out your arm towards the brown haired boy.

somehow, the sound of the punches halted and billy fell to the ground. a sigh of relief escapes from your lips while the slow rise and fall of steve harrington’s chest becomes the last thing you see as you completely fade into the darkness.

—

the next time you open your eyes is to another set of screams, waking you up from your much needed slumber, if you can even call it that. you ignore the pounding in your head as you try to regain your vision. the first thing you feel are the strong arms in front of you, acting as your seatbelt, as you try to piece it all together.

a couple minutes of confusion later, you finally recognize what’s happening, joining steve in full babysitter mode. the yelling of “no’s!,” and “stop the car’s!,” filling the tiny vehicle.

“great, now they’re both awake!, i told you we should have just left them!,” mike cursed dustin annoyingly.

“we were not going to leave them there, mike!,” dustin retorted, “c’mon guys i promised you’ll be cool, okay? just calm. down,” he softly ordered, like he was the babysitter and you two were his children.

you scoff, “dustin, don’t fucking tell me to calm down!,” somehow fearing for your life now more than ever.

“everyone just shut up, i’m trying to focus!,” max yells as lucas yells the directions in her ear.

max makes a harsh turn causing a chorus of screams to rise. your hand immediately clutching around steve’s arm, face burrowing in his neck, seeking for protection, afraid of the crash that luckily never came.

you’re not even too sure what happened the rest of the night but somehow you all made it out unscathed, besides the fact that you and steve are probably suffering matching concussions.

iii. the heart-to-heart

in the tiny bathroom of the byer’s house, you find yourself standing in between steve harrington’s legs. his body feels familiar now, especially after you seeked comfort in each other in the dark tunnel, the two of you thinking it would be your last breaths. in some way, the miracle happened and the screeching demogorgons ran straight past the two of you, like you weren’t even there.

you remember looking up at his golden, brown eyes. being that close to him, you noticed how beautiful they actually are and finally understood how he has charmed every girl at school.

‘i guess it wouldn’t have been too bad dying in steve harrington’s arms.’ you thought to yourself.

brushing those thoughts away, you bask in the moment of solitude within the commotion that is taking place behind the bathroom door. everyone reunited here, checking up on each other.

“does it hurt?” you ask him as you gently pat the alcohol covered cotton pad around his eye, cleaning up the bits of red that have stained them.

he slightly winces, hoping you didn’t notice, “i’m fine, this isn’t my first rodeo,” he assures, sending you a wink before completely regretting the tiny action, a frown briskly replacing his smile, causing small chuckles to slip between your lips.

“you know, you should really stop getting into fights, i could’ve sworn you had a black eye just a year ago,” you remember it like it was yesterday - steve harrington walking the halls of hawkins high without his two minions for the first time, looking like he had fallen off his throne as the hushed whispers grew louder until they finally made its way throughout the school in a matter of minutes.

you could tell he wasn’t at all the person he was trying to be and for a second, you saw yourself in him. you wanted to get to know that steve. the steve that may understand you. but that second didn’t last long.

“so you were watchin me?” he teases, a smirk on his lips resulting in a playful shove and an eye roll from you.

gently grabbing his chin, you stare straight into his eyes, “of course i was. you’re steve harrington,” you remind him, “everyone watches you,” stating the facts before letting go and going back to removing all the dried up blood from his pretty face.

he clears his throat, shrugging his shoulders, playing it cool, “yeah, i guess you’re right,” he says dumbfoundedly, making you laugh.

“you’re ridiculous,” you quietly comment, a smile still on your lips. steve focuses on your light touches, trying not to wince every time you get near his open wounds. you notice his knuckles going white, gripping the toilet seat he was sitting on and ever so gently, hurried your actions.

“there, all clean,” you softly declare as you slip from his space, turning around and putting all mrs. byer’s first aid kit back into place. he quietly thanks you, leaning his head back a bit to rest, his eyes shutting for a second.

“thanks, by the way,” you break the silence “for protecting me earlier… with billy and all the upside down things,” you explain, looking at steve through the mirror. he nods, not entirely sure he’s deserving of your gratitude. you protected him as much as he protected you.

“is he always that violent with you?” steve asks, an eyebrow going up.

you immediately shake your head, “no, he’s never laid a hand on me, i don’t know what came over him,” you say honestly.

“why billy hargrove?” he asks, causing you to pause your actions, paying attention to him.

“what do you mean?” you reply, turning around to face him once again, your back against the tiny kitchen sink.

“well, you didn’t leave dustin alone even though you just started babysitting him today, you care about having seatbelts on, you immediately covered up for max and just now, you took care of me when you should be taking care of yourself,” he points out, “you’re responsible and kind and you care and, well, billy is just a huge dick,” he finished, a hand flailing in the air as you stare at him, stunned at his observations.

you compose your thoughts for a while, not at all ready to have a heart to heart with steve harrington in a bathroom.

instead, you throw the question back at him, “why nancy wheeler?”

“you cannot possibly be comparing billy to nancy,” he replies quickly, a disapproving tone laced in his voice.

“i’m not,” you say defensively, “i’m just saying, she hurt you too but you’re still with her, you-”

“i-i don’t know if we’re actually still together,” he sadly replies, cutting you off, eyes dropping to the floor and you think back to the woods earlier that night — nancy emerging with jonathan right by her side.

“but you still love her,” you continue, “even though she’s hurt you, you still love her,” you finish, trying to make a point.

“so, you’re in love with billy?” he concludes.

you scoff, wanting to say yes and finally drop the subject but the mere thought of agreeing with that sentence makes you visibly wince.

“god no, i’ve been on a couple dates with the guy, it’s far from love,” earning an even more confused steve to face you.

“i don’t know if it’s because i got my brains punched out or i really am just dumb but i completely lost you there,” he admit, a tiny smile on his lips and all you could do is sigh.

heart to heart talk it is.

“you’re not dumb, i just-” taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself.

“we all have our own reasons why were with someone,” you begin, “i’m just so tired of the perfect good girl image that has been imposed on me, it's like people just see me as that and nothing else,” as soon as you start, the dam breaks, flowing.

you find yourself entrusting your deepest thoughts to him, “i can’t be fun because good girls aren’t supposed to be, i go to parties and people are confused that i'm there. you know, i even joined the cheerleading team so people can see me as something more? but all that does is fuel the assumption that i can do everything and still get shit done...that im not capable of mistakes and bad decisions. that i’ll turn out to be something great when really i’m just so damn scared all the time,” your voice breaks but before he could comment, you cleared your throat and continued.

“i guess being with him makes people finally see me out of my stereotype” you confess, waiting for him to say something. the silence becomes overbearing and you feel completely vulnerable under his gaze.

“oh,” steve responds, before bursting into laughter and you feel like a complete idiot, eyebrows shifting downward. god, you’re so ready to dramatically walk out of this bathroom and slam the door against his face but before you could do that, he notices.

“hey wait,” he says, gently grabbing your arm, asking you to stay as he arranges his thoughts.

“i’m sorry, i’m just relieved that you’re not actually in love with him because you deserve a lot better than billy hargrove,” he says charmingly, his cool facade still on display.

“i know,” you agree, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes, “is that all?” you ask, still annoyed.

“yeah,” steve starts, “i-no,” you give him time. you know that he’s having a war in his mind right now, the same one you just had.

he avoids your gaze, thinking to himself, until finally, he puts his defenses down, “i understand you,” he confesses.

“if it makes you feel better, it’s not at all greener on this side, i wished people looked at me less, i wish i didn’t have to go to all these parties just for people to respect me,” steve rattled on, feeling the weight fall off his shoulders with every word that falls off his lips, his facade disappearing bit by bit.

“i completely gave up on school because everyone has already expected me to fail and i started to believe them…it’s tiring having to pretend i’m this ‘king’ steve,” he quotes, “when really i am spiraling and have no fucking clue what i even want in life...i’ll probably just end up having a stupid job i hate and being as bitter as my father,” he sadly chuckles.

“i’m just as scared as you,” he ends with a small smile, eyes meeting yours. he feels lighter after having said it all out loud for the first time and he can’t quite comprehend how he feels so safe sharing his saddest truths with you.

but as you cast him a kind smile, the words “fuck stereotypes,” making its way to his ears, he can’t help but be thankful for the spilled truths and ajar doors.

steve mirrors your expression and you’re glad you finally got to meet him. not “playboy” steve harrington and definitely not steve “the king” harrington.

just steve.

next: yr. 1985 (to be written)

an: a lil bridgerton reference there hehe ... thank you for reading! let me know if you're interested in reading the other moments i had planned :)

feel free to inspire me by dropping your thoughts, comments, suggestions, etc. here <3

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mgparker · 1 year

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keep your eyes on me

joel miller x f!reader

warnings: ANGST, stab wound, mentions of violence and blood, lots of violence actually, protective!joel, reader being moody and angsty, some gore (wound details), inaccurate stuff probably (definitely), inconsistencies for sure

word count: 6.63k UNEDITED

here’s the full version of ‘keep your eyes on me.’ i apologize in advance for the reader’s moody and angsty monologue in the intro and all that follows after. prepare the tissues?

The mission was simple.

A quick in and out, a regular check for supplies in one of the surrounding buildings of the QZ and that was it. Nothing you hadn’t done countless times already, even before Joel entered your life, and it was relatively easy.

The hardest part was sneaking past the supervised borders and even that had been figured out when you started paying one of the guards to turn a blind eye whenever you went out for a run.

It just so happened that this run had to occur in the smack-dab middle of a feud you’d found yourself in simply because you associated yourself with Joel Miller and Tess Servopoulos.

It didn’t help that Joel, in particular, rarely associated himself with anyone at all. Perhaps that’s what made you a prime target in his dispute with his former partner Robert Navarro.

Because Joel went out of his way to join your side more often than either of you cared to admit, it made sense that, in turn, Robert’s fury would extend to you.

That’s how you found yourself a little more jumpy than usual, on edge as you scoured the few abandoned buildings in the far east of Boston that hadn’t been touched by common smugglers… or you.

A crash tore you out of your compulsive thinking and you sprang into action before you could even blink.

The end of your newly sharpened blade found Joel standing on the other side of it, a scorned look on his face mixed with a hint of annoyance.

“You could’ve taken my eye out,” he grumbled with a slight shove as he moved past.

It wasn’t enough for you to lose your footing, but you scowled at him anyway. “Don’t expect me to apologize for your foolishness.”

“Never,” he called back from the next room.

You pocketed the knife and sighed.

Despite your banter, you’d consider Joel a good friend. And even that was an understatement; despite the code of living you’d created and stuck to since life had been uprooted and torn from beneath you nearly two decades ago.

Truth is, since the moment you met him, Joel Miller somehow dug his way into your rigid heart, along with Tess in some ways, but Joel was different. You weren’t sure if it was the hardened exterior that masked a broken person underneath, much like you, or something else, but it didn’t take long for his acquaintance to become friendly and then something more.

Like it or not, the warm feeling you’d get whenever Joel would reveal a new piece of himself, no matter how meticulously small, or when he’d simply exist around you was something you couldn’t ignore.

And nowadays, as the world was quickly becoming even colder and harsher, it was a feeling you found yourself unwilling to let go.

It was near impossible to find something that inspired feelings that didn’t match the gloominess and grayness of the world around you, and now that you had, it was like a drug.

But if his knee-jerk reaction to pulling away from any type of affection or semblance of love is any indication, Joel Miller could not and would not ever feel as deeply for you as you did for him.

And though it left a painful lump in your throat, you’d accepted it long ago.

For now, you’d stick to the passive aggressive flow you two seemed to fall into in each other’s company. It was how you two had first treated each other before you got involved in each other’s lives and it wasn’t going to change now.

You knew for sure, despite all other uncertainties revolving your relationship, consistency is something you both needed in these trying days.

You’d settle for it as long as he stayed in your life.

“Find anything interesting?” You’d been silent for too long. You realized it with an awkward jolt and you set yourself back into motion.

“No,” you called back. “You?”

“The whole place has been swept clean,” Joel sighed as he came back into the room.

“That can’t be right,” you leaned against the wall and stared at your feet in confusion. “The smugglers haven’t gotten this far, I’m sure of it.”

You looked up to find Joel staring down at you with a hint of sympathy. He knew how excited you were about this one—it was a medical building. Tall with a few stories of what you’d assumed had been doctors’ offices and reception areas.

You’d been kind of right. It definitely seemed to have been an office building of some sort, desks still neatly organized in separate cubicles, but everything was pristinely empty.

No medicine, no supplies, no tools. Nothing.

“Goddamnit!” You furiously kicked a nearby desk over.

Joel continued to stare at you with the same brewing frustration. With what you were both expecting to steal and sell off, it would’ve been enough to get the battery Joel needed to get the hell out of dodge.

Despite the trip being for the sole purpose of finding his brother, Joel knew from the moment you started splitting your illegal earnings with him, you had both feet in the door. Getting out of Boston was just as important to you as it was for him. And while it may have started out for personal gain, you started caring about Joel’s mission somewhere along the way.

And despite his best efforts against it, Joel started caring about you. Battery or not, you were here to stay.

You were in his life.

When he focused back into the real world, you were pacing the office space, mumbling to yourself with waving hands.

“Seriously, even yesterday these cabinets had been full—”

“Yesterday?” Joel cut in with furrowed brows. “You were here yesterday?”

“Where do you think I got those prescription lenses?” You’d returned yesterday with a box full of glass lenses, not the cheap shit—actual optometrist lenses, shit that would make you a fortune on the black market once you came back for the rest. When Joel got back from work yesterday to where you, him and Tess had been shacking up (an ‘apartment unit’ that was falling apart), he’d found you sitting on your bed, grinning from ear to ear with a small box full of them.

It'd made you a good amount of ration cards and you made enough to quietly pay a man who claimed he had a functioning battery on the market. Joel didn’t know yet— you weren’t going to tell him until the deal went through and the battery was in your hand.

No point in bringing anyone’s hopes up until it was a sure thing, right?

You brushed past Joel, bristling at the thought of someone taking your fortune.

He followed you towards the door, hot on your heels.

“You went this far out by yourself? Are you crazy?” He realized how pathetic he sounded. How it teetered too close to sounding like he cared more than he should, but he did.

And the mere thought of you putting yourself in serious danger irked him in a raging way.

“Our options were getting limited, Joel,” you whipped around with flames in your eyes. “And it would’ve got us what we needed. If that makes me crazy, so be it.”

Protectiveness wasn’t unusual for Joel. You’d see it when anyone spoke to you in the wrong tone. How he’d snap at whoever for even looking at you the wrong way. You’ve seen it with his insistency in finding his brother.

And you’re seeing it now.

Only this time, it didn’t cause those stubborn butterflies in your gut. It only fueled your ever-growing frustration.

Joel grabbed your arm firmly. “If something had happened to you—"

Slam!

It cut off Joel before he could finish, both of you whipping towards the doorway and looking at the stairs that led to the first floor.

“Spread out,” a gruff voice commanded below you. “They’re in here somewhere.”

“Shit,” you cursed quietly, ripping your arm from Joel’s tight grip, rushing over to hide against the wall next to the open door.

Joel did the same, a loaded pistol in his right hand, aimed across his chest toward his left. He stared at you across the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You fell into immediate silence as Joel brought a finger to his lips, hushing you before you could utter another word.

“This is stupid, man. Everything’s untouched, are you sure they even came through—”

“Shut the fuck up. We follow his rules. We do our job, and we get paid and that’s it.”

Breath hitched in your throat, you stared over at Joel, watching his face contort with every piece of information the two idiots revealed.

“Isn’t he scared of this dude? I mean, if he wants them gone, why not come after them himself? Who knows what this Miller guy is capable of—”

“Get a fuckin’ grip, Santiago,” you nearly jumped out of your skin when his gruff voice sounded much closer. “It’s two of them against all of us. You’re a fuckin’ pussy. Don’t know why Robert chose you in the first place.”

Joel threw his head against the concrete with a roll of his eyes. But his fingers curled over the trigger and you did the same.

“I’m lookin’ out for myself,” their footsteps echoed up the stairwell. “You should do the same.”

Slowly raising your gun, your lips silently counted down.

‘5..’ Joel gave you a curt nod.

‘4’ “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Don’t talk about shit chu don’t know about.”

‘3’ You tried to check your ammo as quietly as possible.

‘2’ Something uncomfortable pricked at Joel’s stomach, staring at you as he imagined fighting side-by-side. It wasn’t his first time, but every single time got harder than the last. And this time, he wasn’t even sure how big the ambush would be.

If something happened to you—

‘1.’

He shook his head a bit more aggressively than he meant, ignoring your questioning gaze, before swinging around the corner with his gun in one hand, blade in the other.

Instantly, the two men went to scream, but you and Joel took care of it quickly. You tried to ignore the pang of guilt in your chest as you fired your muffled weapon directly between one of the men’s eyes.

Beside him, Joel held his partner against his front, hand over his gurgling mouth, blood spilling out the side of his neck.

Your eyes were locked on his until the man in his arms went limp and Joel let him drop emotionlessly.

You ignored the temptation to follow his body with your eyes and instead hardened your gaze toward Joel.

It wasn’t his fault that you still hadn’t grown as desensitized as he had over the years, but your envy was hard to swallow. Even if you were better at hiding it, you knew Joel would’ve eventually noticed. Despite his careless exterior, Joel was a nitpicker, constantly inspecting, constantly searching.

You were just glad that his faith in your abilities hadn’t wavered despite your stubborn empathetic streak.

You refused to appear weak, especially in front of him.

A rush of voices and footsteps pulled both you and Joel out of whatever spiral your minds had thrown you into, a calloused hand wrapping around your arm and dragging you to the center of the room and then pushing you to the right side behind a rather large desk.

Your knees roughly hit the dusty mat in front of the workstation, and you whipped your head around to search for Joel before he could disappear within the room.

A flash of brown hair was the only indication that your partner hadn’t left you high and dry, but you had no time to dwell on it. The door was busted down and a chorus of voices entered.

They must’ve seen Santiago and whatever the other guy’s name was because there was a simultaneous shift in which your mind shut down everything else but the need to survive.

The sight of bullets flying registered before the sound of the shots, blood rushing to your ears and fingertips as you flew up instinctively, pulling your own trigger.

The fight became quickly divided, a few more flocking toward Joel’s side of the floor and you felt the rush of determination more than ever.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins as your mind chanted one thing only.

Fight, survive, protect.

“You bitch!” A blonde came rushing toward you, face screwed in anger as he bared his teeth at you.

He was lifting his gun, looking between you and Santiago’s body from behind your desk. You were quick to respond, lifting your weapon quicker and firing the bullet.

You didn’t even get to see his body hit the ground. A sudden pain in your jaw blinded you, the force of a fist smashing against your face sending you tumbling into the nearest wall.

Black spots dusted your vision and you quickly shook them away. You swung back and kicked against whoever had gotten the jump on you.

His fist was wrapped in your hair, pulling as you fought back tirelessly. You managed to catch a glimpse of your attacker’s eyes before you were finally getting a grip on the pistol strapped to your thigh, firing into his side as he made one final move.

Your skin tore quickly, stretching down your chest agonizingly, and you almost fell to the ground with him.

A harrowing yell escaped you before you could help it. You’re not even sure how you managed to stumble away but you found yourself quickly pressing your hands against the knife that was still lodged in your stomach.

Without hesitation, you ripped the weapon out.

It was a hinderance to your survival, to Joel’s survival, and you couldn’t afford to wait on the sidelines. But then a wave of agony made you fall to your knees.

You could hear your name being called over and over again, but then the blood was suddenly rushing into your head, your skull pounding behind your eyes.

Did you answer? Did you call Joel’s name like he did yours? God, the pain was blinding. Your hands shook violently as you tried to rip a piece of your jacket.

The fabric slipped between your fingers like water and you pulled away in frantic confusion.

Red. It was all over the place. It stained your fingers, your shirt— it wouldn’t stop.

Why won’t it stop?

A disgruntled breath escaped you, just as you rubbed your hands against your shirt again, and both things hit you like a freight train.

The pain, blossoming from the sharp intake of air and the contact against your ever present wound, was enough to send you tumbling in realization.

You’d ripped the knife out of your stomach. It wasn’t just a scratch. Your fight-or-flight mode seemed to override the severity of what had just happened.

“Shit,” you whispered, putting pressure against the wound despite every part of you wanting to pull away.

A distance away, Joel yelled your name again. It was desperate, enough to cut through your gaze of panic. As calm as you could manage, you threw him a glance over your shoulder.

He was cornered again, three men surrounding him with knives and pistols. They were putting up a decent fight but it didn’t worry you. You’d seen your partner fight against greater odds and win without breaking a sweat.

As long as he stayed focused.

“I’m fine,” you called back to him, staring down at your blood-soaked hand. “Just got the wind knocked out of me is all.”

You hated lying.

The numbers behind you were slowly dwindling down...

Until suddenly they weren’t.

A chorus of shouts emerged from the hallway to your right and a sudden rush of adrenaline numbed your pain.

You felt a flood of relief.

Joel couldn’t handle this alone. After everything you two had been through together, a stab wound was not going to take you out.

Not without a good fight before.

The grunts behind you finally died down and Joel was quick to join your side, pulling his handgun from the holster on his belt.

The action quickly started again, men flooding into the room with pointed guns.

Your finger pulled the trigger on instinct, taking down the closest man before he could make a move towards you.

It was a series of bangs and flashes after that. Purely running off adrenaline and instinct, ducking behind whatever desks were still in one piece and flying back up with a bullet in tow.

Across the room, Joel was holding his own, clearing the room as quick as you were.

Suddenly, a bullet whizzed past your ear, close enough you could feel the rush of wind speed past you and you spun on your feet, firing before you even laid eyes on your final target.

Luckily, by the time you spotted him, the last man was dropping to the floor with a heavy thud.

Your arm fell slack, loosely gripping your pistol.

It was silent for a few moments as you gazed over at your partner and he seemed just as winded as you.

Joel’s breaths were loud, chest heaving with exhaustion. He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees.

“They must’ve been tipped off,” he said.

The adrenaline was slowly leaving your body.

Weakly, you nodded. You didn’t even stop to think that he had his back turned toward you.

The air was suddenly punched out of your lungs. The pain was back, and it felt like the prick of a hundred needles. You weren’t sure you could hold yourself up much longer.

“Joel…” Your lips could barely form the word. Where did all your strength go in an instant?

He must not have heard you over his increasing anger. Joel was a loud thinker; at least, he was with you.

For anyone else, the man was a damn puzzle that was impossible to solve. It’s what made you feel a pang of guilt, just as your legs gave out, because there was a dreadful feeling in your gut that maybe this wasn’t one that you could come back from. Not this far out from the QZ, and even then. Medical supplies were scarce and expensive, more than both you and Joel could afford even with joint forces, seeing as most of everything you had had gone into this mission.

You hit the ground hard enough to send Joel spinning faster than you’d ever seen him move. His stance was sure, gun back in his hand before you could even see it move toward his belt, ready to take on whoever else had threatened him and you.

Black dots began to fizzle the corners of your vision.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Joel pocketed the weapon and rushed toward you. “Hey, Y/N, look at me.”

You tried. Your eyelids were too heavy.

A noise of panic left the back of his throat. “Open your eyes,” Joel grabbed your face roughly. “Look at me now!”

Startled, your eyes opened wide and a bit of awareness came back to you.

“What happened?” Joel demanded, scanning your body with urgency. His eyes zeroed in on your hands that were pressed against the wound.

Shakily, you pulled away and for a moment, he thought he was trapped in a nightmare. Blood coated your shaking palms.

“One of those fuckers got me good,” you hissed. Joel was mercilessly pressing his hands against your stomach now.

“Ease up, will you?” A flare of annoyance struck you when he pressed harder. “Jesus Christ—"

“I’m a little busy trying to save your life,” Joel gave you a hard glare. There was something in his eyes, a mix of frustration and anger and—and something else.

Joel Miller’s impeccable mask of calmness was cracking, panic seeping through the seams.

That confirms it, you thought dreadfully. It really is as bad as I thought.

Things suddenly became blurrier than before. You squinted through the haze. “Sorry, I know. Sorry, it just—it just hurts.”

At that, he finally let up and curled his fingers around the hem of your torn shirt. As quickly as you nodded, Joel pulled the fabric up and instantly regretted it.

Though he tried hard to disguise it, you saw the drop in his expression, the disappointment in his gaze as he studied your stomach with a horrible poker face.

You looked up at the ceiling, a deeper pit in your stomach settling. You weren’t leaving this torn-up building. Not alive at least.

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, and you angrily blinked them away before Joel could see them.

“It’s not too bad,” Joel said finally.

If you had the strength, you would’ve scoffed. “Don’t lie.”

“Like you did?” He accused.

You dropped your chin to glare at him through half-lidded eyes. “We were surrounded. You were surrounded. I had no choice.”

He was looking down at your torso again and you dared to follow his gaze.

Torn skin, fiery red around the ragged edges of what had been a rather large, hefty blade. It nearly dragged down to your navel, bleeding profusely down into the fabric of your pants, likely ripped open by the rush of adrenaline that allowed you to finish the rest of Robert’s men.

“Don’t ever lie to me again,” he began to tug on your arm, dragging you up from the ground with a grunt. “Never again.”

A whine escaped you before you could stop it, teeth gritting from the blinding pain, and you had half a mind to whack Joel with all the strength you could muster.

“Fuck,” you coughed. “W-warn me next time.”

An apology was at the tip of Joel’s tongue, but he swallowed it down. He wouldn’t start going easy on you now. Not until he was sure you were out of death’s reach, and he could properly scold you for being so stupid.

“Talk to me,” he demanded as he more or less dragged you down the first flight of stairs, struggling to store his gun in the holster of his belt. His hands were shaking too badly and a wave of nausea hit him.

“Why?” You hissed in pain, brain still foggy from the blood loss and irritated from the numbness in your legs. You weren’t making sense of anything.

Joel bit his lip harshly. “So, I can keep you awake. You need to be alert, you hear me?”

You didn’t hear him.

In fact, all you could hear or think or even see was blinding red, an ache so deep in your bones. You weren’t even sure if you were still dragging your feet along.

Your silence had Joel stumbling to a stop, pushing you against the wall and pinching your cheek desperately. Your eyelids were barely open. A string of mumbles left your lips and Joel firmly shook your shoulders.

“It—” you centered yourself again. “It hurts—"

The world spun again, and you were suddenly looking straight up at the underside of his jaw, clenched in worry, eyes straight ahead as he began to hustle down the rest of the stairs with you in his arms.

As he finally made it outside, the lump in his throat got harder to swallow and something began to crack in his chest. An anxiety that he hadn’t felt since he had someone else in his arms like this, since spilled blood coated his arms and shirt.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not ever.

It was eerily quiet, only your protests that went unheard by him breaking the silence of sunset over the city, and his mind tortured him even further.

Plaguing him with memories of when you were alive and well.

Joel knew he was in for a night of trouble when you came through the door that evening with a sly tone in your voice.

“Guess what I found today.”

“Trouble, no doubt,” Joel responded mindlessly, bottom lip pinched between the grip of his calloused fingers, troubled with memories of the past and the horrors of the possible future.

You shrugged with a cunning smile on your face, sauntering to the ‘kitchen’ and out of his peripheral view. “Could be.”

He heard the clatter of your keys, the familiar rustle of you shrugging off your jacket, and he only looked up once you made your way to the edge of the living room.

There was the hint of a smile on your face, as if you were containing an excitement over God knows what. It wasn’t often that he saw that particular look on your face. He secretly decided that he liked it a lot.

His gaze left your face as you pulled something out from behind your back and held it up with pride.

A dark red bottle dwarfed your hand in size, a peeling label wrapped around its front and he squinted his eyes to read the cursive inscription— ‘Tuscan Vineyards Cabernet.’

He looked up at you with wide eyes and you were full on smiling now. You walked over to him, and Joel had to arch his neck to look up at you from his spot on the floor. Gently, you handed it over.

“Can big and bad Joel Miller handle his liquor?”

“This is wine,” Joel scoffed, inspecting the bottle in his large hands. “I’d hardly consider this liquor.”

You watched as a hint of pink flooded the apples of his cheeks, despite his best efforts to ignore your teasing. The corner of your lips curled up.

“I don’t know,” you slipped the bottle out of his grip with a pointed sigh. “It’s been a while since we’ve had the good stuff. Our tolerance is probably not what it used to be.”

“Speak for yourself. I was never the first to tap out of any drinking game. That was Tommy’s job.”

You tried not to let the surprise show on your face.

It was rare that Joel spoke about his past, and with how anxious he was to hear from his little brother, you were surprised he was bringing him up so casually.

Busying yourself by getting up from some glasses, you threw an eyebrow raise over your shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”

Joel rolled his eyes. Even after you turned around, he kept staring at you, entranced by your fluid movements, reaching to set two glasses down and searching for a suitable knife within the stash you had accumulated in the apartment.

There was something so normal about watching you flounce along the kitchen, eager to indulge in a treat you two hadn’t had since before the world ended.

It was almost… domestic.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, Joel cast it away just as quickly, sharply looking away from your figure and glaring down at the carpet with a sudden anger.

Domesticity and anything along the lines ceased to exist for Joel long, long ago. Even if an odd pang in his chest was begging him to look back at you and chase the feeling, he’d ignore it and bury it down deep inside.

He couldn’t afford to entertain such thoughts.

“Ah!” You carefully crossed the living room, two glasses full to the brim in your grip. “Finally.”

Seeing the alcohol had Joel perking up slightly, quickly accepting his cup with a familiar spark in his eye.

“Thanks,” he grumbled slightly, still bewildered by his impulsive thoughts. Silently, he watched as you carefully lowered yourself to the ground beside him, folding your legs under yourself and letting out a sign of relief as your muscles finally took a much-needed break.

You were tempted to clink your glasses against his, and it seemed Joel had the same beat of hesitation too, but you quickly reeled yourself back in.

This world hardly allowed for any wins, and now it was just pitiful to raise your glass in this day and age.

A nod will have to do, Joel decided first, and you gratefully tipped your head back toward him.

The tartness burst along his tongue at the first sip, smooth but shockingly strong, carving its way down his throat slowly.

Beside him, you also drank with a pleased hum.

“Where’d you find this?” Joel asked as soon as he’d gotten his first fill.

“The city,” you avoided his eyes, busying your mouth with wine again.

You were a shit liar when it came to personal affairs.

“I’ll ask again,” Joel corrected with the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Who’d you steal this from?”

“Some guy named John Dean, ’twas the name on the liquor license in the bar. You think I could afford this on the market? We’re lucky John had this stashed in the back.”

“I can see why. It’s pretty damn good,” Joel admitted.

“It is, isn’t it? It’s a shame Tess isn’t here to share with us.”

Right. He’d almost forgotten about her impromptu solo trip to ‘visit some friends’ in Detroit.

If he cared more, Joel would’ve pressed for more information, but Tess had never done him, or you, wrong before. It wasn’t his job to worry about her personal life.

Joel hummed in response. The sun was setting, casting you two in darkness and neither of you made an effort to get up and flick on the light switch...

Time must’ve eluded him because your voice cut through the silence that had settled like a knife.

“We’ll find him, you know?”

Joel hardened his gaze and took another sip. The wall was suddenly very interesting.

“We’re going to find your brother,” you said again, staring over at Joel with a look he couldn’t quite place. Not even after he moved his eyes over to you.

Your eyes were rounded with sincerity, the golden hues of the sun reflecting in your gaze, lips parted with hints of stained red. The glass of wine hung between your fingers loosely, half-full but still briming with unspoken truths.

It was that look in your eyes that cracked his rugged exterior, meticulously built from years of grief and horror.

He wanted to say something, anything, but he was coming up blank. Ensnared by the absolute beauty you exuded in this very moment.

He’s been looking at you for much longer than you’d consider normal, there’s no point in pushing anything away now. Might as well go the full nine yards.

And just as he was taking that leap, bringing his face closer to yours, his own hands flashed in his vision.

Covered in a red deeper than the stain on your lips, dripping and dripping...

Joel pulled back with a jolt, unnoticing to the small sigh that left your mouth, and tried to blink away the blood on his shaking hands.

He swallowed down the bile that threatened to burn the roof of his mouth with a sip of wine.

Death followed him around every corner. His failure to protect what was his would always haunt him.

He couldn’t allow it to happen again.

Your breaths evened out after a moment, and he listened to them with closed eyes.

An apology was at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t let you be another casualty.

You had to stay alive. Joel would keep you alive...

You’d said something before he managed to fuck things up.

Joel racked his brain for the memory. It seemed like it’d been so long ago.

‘We’re going to find your brother.’ That’s what you’d said...

Joel would keep you alive, even if every nerve in his body ached to connect with yours. He wanted to explain it to you, but you’d made him a promise. He’s making one to you too. He’s going to keep you alive...

‘We’re going to find your brother,’ you’d said.

Apologize. Explain. His brain was screaming at him-- no.

Respond.

“Okay,” is what he settled for instead.

You were still alive.

You were still alive and that’s the only thing that mattered. He had to keep it that way.

“Stop,” you begged breathlessly. It was like he hadn’t even heard you, pushing on even as the sun began to set in the west.

How long had it been?

There was a buzzing in your head; it was numbing, as if you’d been injected with some sort of laughing gas. It was a little bizarre and it was enough to add some bass in your tone.

“Joel, please. Stop.”

It was your grip that made Joel finally look down. Your hand, quivering and weak, had come to wrap around his bicep, nails digging in with urgency.

He staggered as he looked into your dim eyes, half-lidded and bloodshot red.

“Put me down,” you whispered. “Please.”

You were slipping away; he could feel it.

It was happening all over again, and he was helpless to stop it.

“No,” he said firmly, but his body was still going through the motions. He was still falling on his knees, a shock spreading to his spine, but he didn’t feel the pain.

All he could feel was you.

Your staggering breaths, the twitching of your hands, he guessed some sort of state of shock from the blood loss… It was probably a miracle that you hadn’t passed out from it all yet.

Gravel dug into his jeans, but he paid it no mind, frantically searching your eyes for something. Anything—any sort of solution because he couldn’t go through this again.

Desperately, he pulled up your shirt to look at your wound. The blood wasn’t clotting, it was going faster than your body could respond.

Maybe he could find something to stitch you up with, try to work through all the blood, but the small logical part of him knew that searching through any of these buildings would be like finding a needle in a haystack. And he didn’t trust that you’d keep yourself awake while he was gone…

With a jolt, Joel realized he was no longer hearing anything at all. Your breaths had gone eerily quiet, your hands devastatingly still…

“Hey!” Joel looked toward your face frantically.

His shout jolted you awake, reaching toward the last bits of consciousness your brain could muster.

It was as if a thousand-pound weight had been tied to your ankle and you’d been thrown in the ocean. Desperately reaching for the surface as you sank further and further. Like your oxygen was running out...

“Hey, stay with me, you’re not allowed to rest. Not yet.”

You’re barely able to pinpoint where the voice is coming from until he’s shaking your shoulders roughly.

Your eyes focused back on Joel, a heaviness in your chest.

“Joel?” It takes an extreme amount of effort to form his name on your lips, but you know it’s worth the pain. The dull headache it forms to not give into the peaceful silence that sleep was promising you. It was luring you in, but love made in a little bit easier to keep yourself rooted to the land of the living.

“I’m here. I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not—”

He’s caught by surprise when a sob lodged itself in his throat. He did his best to swallow it down.

It felt like something was ripping at his own chest, breaking through the grief he’d buried down decades ago. And his grip on your body got tighter.

Joel pulled you in to his body like he’d done years ago.

He loved you. God, he loved you. It was threatening to swallow him whole, the flood of emotions as he stared down at your pale cheeks and dim eyes.

He’d denied himself the opportunity to love you, truly love you, because of his stubborn belief that he knew what was best for you.

He knew that if he allowed himself to indulge, he’d set you both up for disaster. Because that’s just how the universe worked for him.

But now, as he sat doused in your blood, Joel Miller felt a deeper heartbreak than anything he could’ve ever imagined the universe had in store for him.

He didn’t think he’d ever feel this way after Sarah.

He was a fool.

“Joel—” you breathed with a hint of a smile.

“Why? Why did you lie—you should’ve told me before—”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” you coughed, the taste of iron on your tongue. “I wasn’t going to let them get the jump on us. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you—”

You’re kidding. Even as you look death in the face, you’re talking about his safety before your own.

It cracked his heart further.

His lips quivered and you were so close that you could feel the small puffs of breath that escaped them. “We gotta get back to the QZ, the sun’s going down. We gotta get you stitched up—“

Even though his knees screamed against it, he was already hauling you two back up before your shrill scream sent him right back down in panic.

One look at your pained expression and he was reminded that he couldn’t afford to spare you the luxury of rest.

“I know, I know it hurts, I know,” he repeated because he was stuck in the same nightmare. “I’m sorry, I know.”

“No,” you begged. “We won’t make it. Please, please, Joel. Stop.”

He only managed a few staggering steps before he was collapsing again, shrinking into himself in anguish.

It seemed like a century had passed as he sat on the gravel, cradling your frail body.

Joel didn’t even feel the tears running down his face until your fragile hand touched his cheek.

“I—I should’ve said it before, but I didn’t want to ruin what we had,” it was getting harder to breathe, but you knew this was what you wanted to use your last breaths for.

“I love you, Joel Miller... And –”

Joel’s eyes flew open in shock, staring into yours in disbelief.

He was unlovable, he’d made sure of that, but here you were. Looking at him with the most sincerity he’d ever seen in anyone’s eyes, glistening with unshed tears of what could’ve been.

“And I’m sorry I’m telling you this now. But you—you had to know. Tell Tess I’m sorry and that she better find what she’s looking for in—in Detroit.”

“Y/N…” His hands cradled your face, just as you ran your fingertips over his quivering lips.

“You’ll be okay, Joel,” you smiled weakly. “You’re going to find Tommy and you’re going to be okay.”

“Please.”

You seemed to ignore his plea, choosing to look over at the orange sunset with that same easy smile on your lips.

And when it slowly began to drop, when your eyes started to glaze over, Joel leaned over to press his lips against the corner of yours, feeling the air leave your parted mouth. And his lips found your forehead, pressing firmly with the whispers of a thousand apologies against your skin.

And there he sobbed, cradled your head into his neck, facing away from the sunset your eyes lastly rested on, the world falling apart at his knees.

Joel Miller loved you too. You left this world without knowing it.

He loved you too.

uh… this will be edited 1000% when i’m completely sober <3 tipsy elle clocking out!

— elle <3

taglist:

@rendiore @words-are-cheap @justhereforthosefics @angelmenace @lady-bellyn @encephalitiskat

@sloanexx @rendiore @words-are-cheap @justhereforthosefics @angelmenace @lady-bellyn @encephalitiskat

#mgparker #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x y/n #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel tlou #TLOU #the last of us #the last of us imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller angst #angst #pedro pascal angst

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uroboros-if · 1 year

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Chapter 1 Update is Here! ✦ DEMO

+10k words added to Chapter 1, bringing the total word count to 50k (with code)

More curt/unfriendly options towards mortals and other gods (Salvatore, parents, etc.)

More customization options, including new hair colors, eye colors, and distinctive features in Chapter 1

Multipronouns you can set in Chapter 1 (may change in future chapters)

Choice of clothes to wear to the Ceremony, which ROs may compliment if they like (3 out of 6 options for each of them!)

A new scene with your parents before the Ceremony where you can decide your relationship with them! (affects dialogue)

Option to storm off if you're mad at Ciocana, especially if you're touch-averse

Misc edits, bug fixes, and background performance improvements

This update is a massive improvement for new readers rather than warranting an entirely new playthrough. If you have any saves right before the Ceremony, you can find the most content there! However, the changes and additions are all over the demo.

... and Discord! ✦ Join here 🌿

My friend suggested I start one up! I hope to set up some events, share more sneak peeks, and connect with others more with this! 🫶💕 I also added some fun things like anonymous confessions and customizable color names, so please join! :)

(Very detailed changelog below if you're interested!)

Minor rewording for Karen encounter.

MC can now openly grimace when mortals call for MC's attention in Chapter 1. Previously, the only real negative reaction to them is turning away, which is open for any interpretation as to why MC does so.

When mortals ask for MC's help, MC can snap at them to speak quickly.

Most choices suggested you are friendly with Nero, so added a couple of options that are neutral towards him, leaning towards dismissive.

Rewrote a line that says you waved to Nero goodbye. It simply says that he departs.

Added an option to be frustrated with the conversation about mortals, when the only other non-positive options about mortals were about being completely disinterested.

Added an option where the MC says they can take care of themselves or they don't need other people worrying about them so much.

When choosing to be touch averse, selective, or not touch averse, you can now choose to be selective and not want to touch Rafaele, which initially was not an option.

If you are the Universal Eye, you tell Salvatore about the Universe being in pain and they dismiss it, you may be able to refuse conversation with them. They might keep talking to you, but you won't respond to them.

Can decide your relationship to your parents. Can also decide if you're open about your feelings towards them or not.

Variations in how your parents speak to you while preparing and during the Ceremony if they are aware of your bitterness towards them.

Can again openly express disdain for mortals or keep your feelings to yourself when answering Rafaele's question, when originally those options were absent

Can storm off from Ciocana if you do not express positive feelings about the dance, especially if you are touch-averse.

Added blue, pink, purple, and no hair options to Chapter 1, not available in the prologue.

Added red and gold eye colors to Chapter 1, not available in the prologue.

Added clothes option to Chapter 1 to wear to the Ceremony.

ROs will comment on your clothes if they particularly like it during the Ceremony (each have 3 out of 6 clothes they like.)

Added pronouns before the Ceremony. You can have multiple pronouns, remove them, and add multiple of the same kind to increase its chances of frequency.

Minor edits and bug fixes.

See you guys soon for the Chapter 2 update :)

#uroboros-if #uroboros #ch1 update #if update #uroboros update #wip update

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hotteoki · 1 year

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your personal healthcare companion (c.s.b.)

pairing: soobin x fem reader (pronouns only used at the last bit so you can skip it if you'd prefer a gn reader)

wc: 1.4k

cw: none afaik

notes: i just see him as tadashi idk hes so tadashi coded

for @yrhome : have a soob

beomgyu nudged your ribs from beside you, drawing your attention away from the board and mr seo's words, "wanna ditch the last two classes after lunch?" you checked your timetable, ms kim, she couldn't give two shits about her students. nodding, you placed it back in your bag, "sure. where are you thinking?" he hummed, "anywhere where we won't be caught." you didn't need him to name drop to know he was talking about his roommate, soobin.

soobin wasn't a typical student in a typical university, unlike you and beomgyu. he excelled in all his classes and was extremely popular amongst teachers, always getting gold merits and compliments anywhere he went by students and parents alike. it was how he got accepted into the best technology institute in the country. he had never approved of beomgyu's carefree influence on you, although he knew it would be difficult to change your minds.

you had met soobin a couple of times, and he was cute, you admitted. it was obvious to anyone, you could be a bit biased, given your teeny, tiny crush on him. you would rather die than tell beomgyu that, though. you were fairly certain he would scream dramatically in agony and horror, then proceed to give a forty minute speech on how he was cuter, and how you should have a crush on him instead. his usual unprovoked salty comments about your practically non-existent relationship with soobin was enough for your brain to handle.

"i was thinking the seaside? the one that's not too far," beomgyu leaned back, rocking slightly on his chair. you began discreetly packing your things up, "sure." as soon as the bell rang, the two of you made your way down the stairs. checking for teachers and security, you managed to sneak out on your bicycles by the back gate.

a few meters away from the seaside, you noticed a familiar figure ahead of you. "beomgyu," you called. he groaned in response, "i know." both of you gradually stopped in front of soobin leaning against his car, an exasperated expression on his face. "aren't you two supposed to be in school?" he sighed, crossing his arms. beomgyu dismounted his bicycle before racking his brain for an answer, "it was crazy. a rat infestation happened and thousands of rats swarmed the classrooms, and we had to run for our lives. they even said they might shut the school down."

"not because you just felt like ditching?" soobin's gaze switched to you, softening slightly while his fingers fiddled with his glasses clutched in his hand. after months of not seeing him, you had forgotten just how cute he really was. you cursed the unfortunate situation that you were wearing your drabby school uniform and not a decent outfit. you turned to beomgyu for an answer, certain that the second you opened your mouth you'd start blabbing whatever nonsense came in your head. you swallowed thickly as you took a secret glance at soobin, oh no, here come the feelings.

"no, it was definitely the rats," beomgyu pushed his grown-out highlighted hair back, not convincing at the slightest bit. "oh really now?" soobin asked sarcastically. "yes really," beomgyu fired back, "how'd you even know we were going to be here?" soobin rolled his eyes, "not the point, get in." he opened the door to the back seat, waiting. before you could follow beomgyu into the back seats, soobin placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you, "sit in the passenger's seat."

a sound of protest could be heard from inside the car, "that's where i always sit!" "well, not today. you don't deserve that seat," he replied simply while making his way to the other side of the car and opening the door for you. you smiled, praying your blush wasn't that obvious as you walked around the car, taking your seat.

after nearly fifteen minutes of being in the car with you having no clue where you were going, you began scrolling on your phone to pass time. "where are we even going?" beomgyu whined, kicking soobin's seat gently to make a point. "you'll see," soobin glared at him from the rearview mirror, "and stop kicking my seat unless you want me to drop you off here and you can walk home by yourself". that shut beomgyu up.

"we're here," soobin announced, turning off the engine as he parked in the carpark of his institute. "what are we doing here?" you had never been here before, and you were definitely excited to see soobin's workspace. "just visiting," he replied nonchalantly. "why? i wanna go home," beomgyu dragged out his vowels, clearly fed up. "i'm really considering changing the locks to our apartment," soobin muttered to you. you didn't fail to notice his genuine smile at your laugh.

"this is taehyun, he's a student from two years below, but we share a work room, he's your year, actually," soobin introduced as you stepped into a fairly large room, spare pieces of metal scattered everywhere, along with a few gadgets hung up on walls. taehyun looked up momentarily to wave, before lowering his head and continuing working on his machine. "what are you working on?" you asked curiously.

"it's an ironing-folding machine. i mean, we have washing machine, drying machine, but we've never had ironing or folding machine, and this machine does just that. 2 in 1 as well," taehyun gave it a pat, a proud grin plastered on his face. "you have my undivided attention," beomgyu practically hopped over, eager to know more. "you are so lazy," soobin shook his head. beomgyu only stuck out his tongue.

"come on, i have to show you something," soobin guided you away, leading you to his corner of the room. he pointed at a little red carrier hidden behind his stacks of papers and chairs, "there." "what's that?” you stepped closer, examining it. "pinch me." you turned to stare at soobin, unsure if you heard him clearly, "what?" "pinch me, it’s part of the thing."

you did so, earning an "ouch!" from him. as planned, the box began to open, and a white, sweet-looking robot stepped out. it began walking towards the two of you, stopping a few feet away and waving, "hello, i am baymax. your personal healthcare companion. i was alerted for the need of attention when you said 'ouch'." "it's so cute!" you gushed, stepping closer to examine 'baymax'.

a screen popped up on its body, "on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?" "one," soobin replied. "i will scan you now," its head moved up and down on soobin's body, "scan complete. you have a slight epidermal abrasion on your forearm, along with unusual sped-up heart palpitations. my scan suggests it is related to emotional feelings of attraction towards-" as baymax adjusted its body to point at you, soobin interrupted panickedly, "i am satisfied with my care."

upon hearing those words, baymax waddled back to its charging port. "you like me?" you looked up at soobin's avoiding eyes. "no?" "yes he does!" taehyun yelled from outside the room. "don't leave the door open, stupid," beomgyu laughed from the doorframe, shutting it. soobin shut his eyes, holding back a sigh.

"you're not playing with me right?" you had to be sure. "yeah, uh, yeah, i've liked you for a long time now," soobin held his hands to his face, covering his reddening cheeks. "you're kidding, i thought you didn't like me back," you gaped. he peeked from the gaps between his fingers, "huh?" "soobin, i've had a crush on you for like probably over a year now," you let out a laugh as you said, surprised this wasn't a dream. "oh," he put his hands down, "oh."

"at least they're finally confessing," taehyun leaned against his desk, eyes flickering to the now shut door of the room where you and soobin were. "i know right? i had to deal with her heart eyes and love sick sighs whenever we saw soobin," beomgyu brushed his bangs out of his face. "i'm pretty sure it was love at first sight for soobin, he would not shut up about her ever since he met her," taehyun laughed. "are you serious? so the reason i have to deal with their giggles and smooches is because of me? i'm too influential," beomgyu shook his head, disappointed at himself. "whatever, they're happy now, i guess," taehyun shrugged.

"you know what? we deserve our happiness too. tell you what, i'll be your first investor in your invention," beomgyu placed a hand on taehyun's shoulder. after a few moments of consideration, they shook hands. "it's a deal."

#soobin #soobin x reader #txt #txt x reader #tomorrow by together smau #tomorrow x together fluff #tomorrow x together x reader #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together drabbles #txt smau #soobin smau #soobin x reader smau #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #huening kai

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lvlyghost · 7 months

Text

In the Midst of War: III

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Shadow!Reader

SUMMARY: Home is no longer where it used to be. Left with no one else you wonder who your friends and foes are.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

TW: blood, descriptions of wounds, an old friend shows up. feelings! attempted fluff. mind the english🐸!

A/N: this GIF is my new fixation and i will not stop posting it in a long time so be advised 🤩 things are hitting the fan next chapter💗as usual thx for reading 🍁🩵

Masterlist✨Masterpost

"𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔?"

Heavy boots, a ragged breathing caused by adrenaline and the sound of his heart thumping inside his ears, those are the things that Ghost can hear as he approaches the white van. Price shouts behind him but he can't make out what he's saying.

The blood... crimson blood that spills from her wounds is frightening. He's a man accustomed to witness horrible things. Seen the worst the world had to offer. Experienced in the flesh what evil can do to a human being. And simply because the woman that he holds in his arms is supposed to be his enemy that didn't mean he wanted to see her bleed out to death. Especially when they learned the truth.

Ghost had a moral code. Things he never wanted to see people go through despite being consequential to their own decisions. She had decided to join the army. She had decided to join the Shadow Company. It was bound to happen. Still it was hard for him.

That very moral code was to not hurt women nor children under any circumstances, and may God —if it even existed— help him when he'd have no other choice.

"Open the fucking door!" He yells, accent becoming more prominent; the door instantly sliding open, readjusting her near dead body in his arms to get them inside. "Gaz, give me everything you have." He commands the Sergeant, who's quick to open his medical pouches as well as the first aid kit they had loaded just in case someone needed it. The eyes of the woman flutter shut and then open slightly again, drifting back and forth between consciousness and the arms of the reaper. Ghost barks again at Gaz, so he helps him undoing the straps of her vest so he can check the wound properly.

"There's another one on her leg, Lt." he points out, moving around him as much as he can with the vehicle moving. With no time to waste he rips the lower part of his shirt, long and wide enough for his Sergeant to work. "Tourniquet , now." Gaz nods, at the harsh and cold commands of his superior. He then turns, lifting her shirt to inspect the wound. The bullet is still lodged inside her stomach, he notices sucking in a sharp breath; part of Ghost wonders who could've been the one who shot her? What if it was him? Taking the disinfectant from the kit he poured a generous amount on her wound. Her face scrunched, lips pouting and a low whine leaves her mouth. "Sorry about that, kid." He muttered, before pressing down on her wound every single gauze he found only to slowly start tainting red. He knew well she couldn't hear him her mind far away from where she physically was.

"We're back." one of the Vaqueros announced, as the van comes to an abrupt stop.

"We need to get her to the helo as soon as possible. She's lost too much blood." Price orders.

The three men get down, military doctors rush to them.

"We'll take it from here." One of them declares, patting Ghost on the shoulder, he nearly growls.

"Let's go. This isn't finished yet."

So Price dragged him in the opposite direction where they were taking her. He didn't know if she'll make it. But that was everything they'd do for her.

Stepping out of the room, showered and changed into comfortable sporting clothes you look around for Ghost. The safe house is silent. Deadly silent.

You wonder if he's even here, and you wonder if escaping would be a good idea. But as for now this was everything you had, at least a bed to sleep and a roof above your head. Sighing you walk to the kitchen just to find it as empty as the rest of the rooms.

The chilly air of late November causes your skin to erupt in goosebumps the moment you step outside, the backyard stretches farther away in the distance and as if on cue, the tall broad form of the Lieutenant appears walking through massive pines, wearing nothing but the jacket and his mask.

Ghost gradually stops when his eyes land on you standing still right outside the back door, arms crossed over your chest to protect you from the weather. He remains silent for a long minute before taking another

step closer.

"All set. Come with me." He orders you.

Biting on your lower lip, stopping your mouth from saying something you'll regret.

"Are you always this bossy?" Despite not liking his tone you oblige and begin to follow as he turns on his heels. If your question annoys him he doesn't let it show in fact he ignores you completely. "Where are we going, Ghost?"

Suddenly a wave of fear washes over you, steps faltering, hands shaking ever so slightly. What if this was it? The end of everything. You didn't want to believe Ghost could kill you like you were nothing you just don't do that to someone you've taken care of for the past month. Why bothering? Why tending to your wounds and worrying for your wellbeing, even if he was forced to do it. You wanted to believe that at least he didn't hate you. Not the way he hated your former Commander. You thought something had changed between the two. He had seemed more relaxed around you; like he somehow had lowered his defenses around you.

"Silence." he hushes you in a low mutter. "M'not gonna kill you if that's what you're worried about."

His words are cold and measured, as if he doesn't want to be here at all and the feeling, the knowledge that you're a burden to him makes your heart ache. A tiny pang of sadness that that's all you've ever been. All you could ever hope to be. So you ball your clench your hands, head hanging low when the so familiar lump in your throat becomes unbearable.

Both of you make it to a clearing, birds faintly chirping on the horizon. The sun no longer greets you, a storm announces itself with heavy clouds appearing in the sky above.

And then you're not alone. Another person stands in the middle. Hands clasped behind. Your heart skips a beat.

The only person that cares enough to save you. Blonde hair in a low tight bun.

Kate turns around, eyes going wide when she finally sees you. She's about to say something but words die because you're practically running to her, ignoring Ghost's warnings on being careful.

A smile appears on her face when you finally hug her and tears roll down your cheeks.

"What took you so long?" You sniffle. Kate's arms hold you tighter.

"I came as soon as I could. Forgive me, Vesper."

Shaking your head you try to stop the tears. It's honestly humiliating but she's known you since you joined the military. Kate Laswell was the closest thing you had to a family just like Graves. "I hope Lieutenant Riley has been good to you."

You huff, making her chuckle.

"He's taken care of me. For that I am grateful."

So now you knew more about him.

Riley.

Better than just a callsign. And it suited him.

Ghost stands a few feet away, despite this being a secure area he can't afford himself to relax. He can still hear everything you say to each other.

He can hear you crying on her shoulder and bloody hell if that didn't made him feel all sorts of distressed. It was a rare thing. Something he wouldn't have thought when he first scooped you up back on that forgotten highway.

But he guesses that happens when you spend too much time with someone you were supposed to look after. It didn't help that just last night you had asked him to stay the night in your room. All kinds of wrong.

Although he had refused he could sense what was happening and he needed to stop it. Getting attached wasn't part of the plan, and it would end terribly.

Deep in his thoughts he misses the look you send him.

"He really is something else." You murmur to Kate who keeps you know at arms length. "If it wasn't for you, I'm sure they'd have killed me." A sad smile appears on your lips.

"Let's not think about what happened darling, but rather what's gonna happen, yeah? Things have taken... a turn. No, hear me out." She says, interrupting you with a soft smile. "You're not alone. Never have been." Another quick glance at Ghost confirms the both of you that he's heard you.

"You know I don't like it when you say mysterious things, Kate." She sighs, giving you another hug although this one isn't as long as the first.

"Trust me. That's all I'm asking, and hey..." he levels you with a serious look. "Ghost may seem frightening but he's a good man." A low confession that doesn't reach his ears. Your cheeks turn red and you don't know why, leaving you mortified when she notices.

"Yeah..." you mumble.

"I don't have much more time. There's matters that require my attention but you'll hear from me again sooner than you think."

"What's that stance?" He gruffly asks as he stands next to you, eyes sliding up and down your body. His arms are tightly crossed over his broad chest. You turn to look up to him and away from the scope of your sniper rifle, blinking rapidly not understanding the disapproving look in his brown eyes.

"Uh, this is how I shoot Ghost." You answer like it was obvious what you were doing. You notice the way he furrow his brows beneath the balaclava.

"Bloody Christ." He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He comes behind you. "Widen your stance." He kicks one of your foot so it slides along the dirty soil.

Yelping you lose balance for a second before he steadies you with a strong hand to your waist.

"Hey! What was that about?"

Ghost tilts his head eyes narrowing.

"That stance was utter shite. Your legs were not separated enough, you'd get knocked down easily by a waft of air."

"I've been doing it like this forever."

"Well you've been doing it wrong."

"But that's..." squinting your eyes you stare at him, fuming. "My legs are not as long as yours, they're like five damn kilometers long." Ghost snorts. "What's so funny?"

"Shocked you know what a kilometer is." Shaking your head you decide to ignore him and readjust the grip on the rifle. "One of his best soldiers, I heard." He points out. He returns to his spot next to you, trying not to think of how you felt under his touch.

"You've never seen someone like me, Lieutenant Riley."

Ghost freezes, heart skipping a beat at the way you say his name. It's soft and endearing. He watches you closely, you're focused on the target one eye closed and the other fixed on the green bottle.

Breathing slowly and steadily, the exact moment when the sky rumbles you press the trigger. The bullet sound echoes through the lone forest as it hits the target, sending birds flying away from their nests. A wide grin makes its way to your lips, turning to look a Ghost who remains silent merely watching the near-perfect shot, the average size bottle shattered in a thousands pieces.

"Bullseye." you comment in a casual tone. "Your turn."

Offering him the rifle you stare at each other for a long time before he shakes his head, refusing to take it.

"Mine's better." Unfazed by his refusal you wait as he goes to the black duffel bag that he previously placed on an old wooden table. He takes out his preferred weapon. Your was... lethal, but his own, the sheer size and way it was customized for him left you speechless. You even doubted you'd be able to hold it still. "And just so you know." coming back to where he was, Ghost readies himself but not before taking off his leather jacket. Only left with his black hoodie he offers you the jacket, eyes serious. Hesitating for a second before grabbing it and putting it on, it smells like him. It's soft and warm around your body. "We're going out tomorrow."

His body prepares to take the recoil of the gun. Yet another perfect shot is made that day; body barely moving, barely flinching when he fires. You hold your breath at the sound of shattering glass and then everything goes silent. Ghost turns to look you in the face, the way his clothes hang around your body swallowing you whole. A sight he finds himself liking too much for his own bloody good.

"Taking me out on a date I see." His lips twitch although you can't see it. "Where to?" You ask rolling your eyes.

Laying down the weapon he motions you to follow him back inside, he'd clean up afterwards.

"Your first mission. Laswell wants you back asap." The air gets stuck in your throat. "Don't look at me like that. We could use a good soldier. And don't worry too much. I'm coming with."

Teaming up with Ghost was the last thing you thought would happen in your lifetime, even if you had before needlessly to say not directly. For all you knew, they considered you a hostile for your connections with the Shadow Company. But your commander was off the equation. Gone forever.

With a final glance to your way he starts to cook dinner for two so you join him.

Your new life starts now.

"When does this end, Laswell?" He asks her, it's not that he doesn't want to be around the girl. That is exactly why he's desperate to put an end to this, enjoying her company wasn't a part of the plan.

She breathes the cool air, and tries to calm him.

"Don't tell me you've grown to care about her, Lieutenant."

Ghost doesn't answer but the CIA agent notices the way his shoulders tense.

Part 4

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teabutmakeitazure · 1 year

Text

Burgeon - 3

>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader (Soulmate au)

>Warnings: blood, needles, stitches, Chrollo being a smart arse

>Word count: 4.8k

Part 1 I Part 2

Lately, Chrollo has been getting numerous reminders of how the both of you are worlds apart. There are a considerable amount of differences between the two of you, and he could even claim to be opposites in some things. The situation he is in now is just an added proof.

Chrollo helps you swallow the painkillers with water, your previous sobs having died down into hiccups. Just as an added precautionary measure, he grabs one of the syringes filled with local anaesthesia that he keeps in the first aid box but is stopped by your fearful expression directed to the now unveiled needle.

“I understand that I’m not a medical professional, but I assure you that I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes dart to the blood that still remains on the kitchen counter behind him before settling at the syringe in his hand, all the while gripping the edge of the bar stool tighter. In all honesty, Chrollo doesn’t understand why you’re hesitating. He’s helping you, cleaning and patching up your wound. Why are you so frightened?

When he grabs your trembling injured hand, you’re quick to stop him. Fresh, hot tears flow down your cheeks and Chrollo frowns at the sight. It took him so much to calm you down but it didn’t seem to last long.

“Wait, Chrollo…”

“What’s wrong?”

Your eyes are fixed on the needle, but you don’t respond.

“[Name]. I need to clean your wound. I’m aware that it hurts and it’s extremely unpleasant, but please. Let me help you.”

“I… I don’t…”

“What is it?”

More tears run down your cheeks as you open your mouth, eyes not at all budging from the object of their attention. “I don’t like needles.”

Ah. That’s… certainly not what he was expecting. He glances between your still bleeding palm and to your eyes, settling on the latter and smiles. Chrollo knows that sighing or such would upset you further since you might take it as him being annoyed with you.

“Close your eyes,” he requests. “It won’t hurt. The most you might feel is a little pinch.”

You still look hesitant. If his hands weren’t stained with your blood, he would’ve held your face. Nevertheless, he tries again. “It’ll be quick, and you won’t even feel it. This is local anaesthesia.”

A few more tears escape your eyes when you look at him. Sniffling, you close your eyes and hold onto his shirt with your other hand. Chrollo immediately seizes the opportunity to administer the dose, not aware of your increased panic.

When he asks you to open your eyes, he’s quick to give you a smile. “That’s all there was.”

Next, he asks you to hold his phone over the cut, the flashlight feature on it turned on. He had to tell you the code to be able to access his phone, but it’s not a problem. He’ll simply change it again.

Before diving into the cut with tweezers, he once again asks you to close your eyes. Chrollo may be ruthless, but it doesn’t mean he won’t commiserate with his soulmate.

The larger shard stuck in your flesh is his first victim. It is promptly pulled out and placed on the counter behind him with the rest of the broken glass. Then, Chrollo quickly gets rid of any other shards that shine under the light. Your faint hiccups catch his attention now and then, but he makes it a point to be quick.

Once the wound is cleaned, he lets go of your hand and reaches into the first aid box on his lap. Your horrified expression greets him when he holds up the thread and needle, puffy eyes ready to start weeping again at a moment’s notice.

“The wound is deep,” Chrollo states. “I need to stitch it closed or else it won’t heal.”

“Can it not heal on its own? Please? I… I don’t want any more needles.”

“...Are you that afraid of needles?”

Shyly, you nod your head and Chrollo almost chuckles at the preciousness.

“You don’t need to worry, darling. You trust me, don’t you? I promise to be gentle.”

Any protest that you may have is shushed by him, a smooth chuckle giving way to another request from him. “I’d like it if you closed your eyes again. It might be too much to watch.”

“Are you sure you can do this?”

“Of course. This isn’t my first time.”

As expected, you comply and close your eyes as Chrollo starts closing the wound. Every single time the needle goes through your flesh, a chill goes down Chrollo’s spine and tingles the tips of his fingers and toes. It’s illogical and a tad bit annoying, but he doesn’t let the feeling deter him.

When halfway through, a bit of blood starts oozing out of the cut again. It pools in your palm and Chrollo’s chest constricts at the sight. Simply stitching an insignificant wound like this is making him uncomfortable. This never occurred before…

He shakes his head. Once the stitches are complete, he cleans your hand again before wrapping it in bandages. Every single action makes him uncomfortable - chills down his spine, teeth clenched, nervous gulps and throat constricting - and he has no concrete reason for it.

Chrollo tries his hardest to ignore your flushed face and puffy features and simply gets to tidying up the numerous glass shards on the counter. In all honesty, he’s absolutely dumbfounded on how you could have caused this. You had gone into the kitchen to get a glass of water while he was messaging a troupe member and the next thing he knew, you started screaming.

Perhaps he should place a new, temporary rule. One that would set the kitchen off-limits. However, all that should come after he interrogates and scolds your clumsiness. Do you not realise how careless you are? Does it not bother you that seeing you crying and quite obviously in pain hurts him as well?

Wait…

So those feelings were that of hurt?

The conclusion makes sense. Chrollo had realised halfway through the stitch that piercing a needle through the skin of your soulmate doesn’t allow any sort of indifference to remain in yourself. It pains you just as much as it may pain them.

He sighs. His index finger and thumb touches the drops of blood on the counter. Unlike the warm red that oozed from your hand, this is cold. The blood on your palm… oh dear. The injury is bound to leave a scar, isn’t it? The texture he loved is a tad bit ruined, but he supposes that he’ll cherish it either way.

When chrollo is done throwing away the glass, he begrudgingly washes his hands and cleans the counter. In the beginning, Chrollo was afraid that the initial passion that drew him to court you - ahem, after he took you away - would fade, like how Kierkegaard states, but for Chrollo, it simply grew.

He blames it on the connection you two share.

Even now, as you look out the window, hand cradled near your chest, Chrollo can’t help but feel… conflicted. On one hand, he craves to go to you and hold you close in a protective grip, but at the same time he wishes to scold you over your carelessness like he would any of his troupe members.

In the end, he settles for a mix of both.

The first thing he does when he settles next to you on the carpet is slowly exhale over you scooting away. After your bold display of talent with glass, Chrollo fails to understand why you would just scoot away like that. Didn’t he just comfort you and bandage your wound? Sure, you initially asked for a hospital, the ER more specifically, but he is more than capable of giving you first aid, so he did.

He calms himself down. Losing his composure is unlike him. Try again, Chrollo.

He moves closer to you himself, and the little race continues until your side hits the glass and he has free reign to throw an arm over your shoulder. Finally successful in trapping you, he notes that you’re still trembling, so Chrollo soothes you by running his fingers over your hair.

“Your scolding comes later,” he warns. Chrollo pushes your head to rest on his shoulder, noting how you don’t resist him this time.

Besides, you called him out on his attempts to subtly condition your mind. Of course you’ve been rejecting his advances harshly. When he first came to see your bleeding hand, he thought that perhaps he should have you apologise for your recent rudeness, but immediately decided against it.

Some silly pride can never compare to his soulmate. If nothing else, it would simply be daft of him to be smug when you’re obviously crying out in pain.

“Hey, Chrollo…?”

Your voice is a welcomed melody in his ears. Chrollo notices that you’re not looking at him, eyes still fixed at the view of the city and hand still cradled to your chest.

“What is it, dear?”

“How… how long will this take to heal?”

Before he could even think, a reply was already out of his mouth. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

With your pursed lips and furrowed brows, Chrollo concludes that you aren’t convinced. Well, he doesn’t blame you. When it comes to you, not even he can trust himself. So, he decides to lie like he always does.

"It won't take long. Just try not to use that hand for a few days. No flexing, no moving and no doing anything with it." He spins another lie, another false promise, and watches you relax from the corner of his eye. "I'll take care of you. I promise there are no games or tricks involved. This is serious to me, so you needn't worry."

A sniffle from you and Chrollo finds himself chuckling. You're too adorable sometimes. A slight overdose of painkillers, local anaesthesia and Chrollo's promise to take good care of you don't suffice to put you at ease. He almost feels too out of touch with your emotions when he recalls the last time he had to get stitches.

Pakunoda started the procedure straight after disinfection. No painkillers, no anaesthesia, nothing. Chrollo hadn't even bat an eye to it, yet when he saw you crying and panicking, his first instinct was to eradicate the pain.

And still you're bothered. Just how fragile are you? And why is such a fragile being bound to him?

Well, it doesn't matter. Taking care of you doesn't inconvenience him, and Chrollo could even claim that it brings him a certain feeling of contentment. That may just be the reason why he never questioned his decision to take you away.

However, he does sometimes find himself wondering about your Nen ability.

You're quite docile at times, even obsequious, but the rest of the time you push him away, keep him at arm's length and demand he stay there. Rarely is he able to tiptoe closer, and even then you catch his attempts and place him back a few steps. It's frankly annoying, but Chrollo finds the reward of being in close proximity fulfilling.

You let him reward himself with sometimes being close to you, then later become distant and repeat the cycle. This facet of your being doesn't resonate with what your Nen ability is - or was - so Chrollo wonders if it has something to do with other facets of yourself.

The fact that you keep yourself so emotionally guarded is aggravating. He has you all to himself, yet he still can't pick your brain apart and understand you better. Why?

One day you allow him to speak to you, converse with you on something he recently read to get your opinion and you give it to him. But the next day you stop conversation altogether, only answering in short sentences and only when asked.

It's frankly quite maddening at times and the only thing keeping Chrollo from using Skill Hunter or psychological tactics is the fact that first of all, you caught on to his little Pavlov-ing scheme and second, he wants to thoroughly pick you apart.

However, seeing the situation on hand - pun intended - he may have gotten a chance to pry more into you. Perhaps this is a little push from fate itself.

"Have you ever gotten stitches before?"

The innocence with which you voiced your question is adorable. Are you really trying to get to know him better? How cute.

"I have actually," Chrollo replies. "But it was nothing like the stitches I did on you. My friend had disinfected the wound and dove straight in with the needle and thread."

You're still not looking at him. "Didn't that hurt?"

"It wasn't too bad."

Your lips press into a thin line. Slowly, you raise your head, moving Chrollo's hand with it and slump into his hold. "How can you say that? I saw the needle and I thought I was going to die."

The admittal makes him chuckle, and he almost forgets that you're injured and he was supposed to be scolding your carelessness. "That kind of thought never crossed my mind. Have I ever told you how cute you are?"

"Many times actually."

"Well," Chrollo drawls, "I hope to tell you that many times more."

You groan and Chrollo finds his heartbeat picking up the pace. It's illogical for it to do so in this situation, but he brushes off the oddity, blaming it on the events that just transpired. In retrospect, he should take full advantage of the situation and the fact that at this very moment you are allowing Chrollo to come closer.

So, he takes the opportunity and tiptoes closer. Quietly and hastily, he gets as close as he can.

"Have you ever gotten stitches before? Before this I mean."

You remain indifferent to his question, but mumble something he didn't quite catch before you answer. "Only once when I was a little kid."

"What happened?"

"I tripped and fell on a rocky area. I don't remember where we were, just that the rocks were all blood. It was pretty long ago. I was a toddler, so I don't remember. Not even the scars on my knee remain."

Chrollo slowly snakes his hand around your waist, smiling when you don't point it out. "That must have been scary for you."

"Yeah," you breathe out. "My mom was terrified because I couldn't stop crying and the bleeding didn't stop."

"How were you as a child?" His hand gently rests on your hip. Warm and heavy, it makes you relax into him more as your injured hand falls to your lap. Chrollo eyes what he can see of your face even if it's not much. "I can imagine that you would have been a cute little kid."

You think for a few moments before answering him. "I've only seen pictures of myself, so I can't really say much because I don't remember most of my childhood. I guess you could say cute? As cute as an average toddler or kid is."

"Were you outspoken?"

"I don't remember, but my mom did say I was."

Your repeated confession of not remembering your childhood nags at Chrollo's brain, but he pushes the thought to the side for now, keeping it away for further contemplation for later. He recalls the pictures of you he found in your phone gallery. The child version he saw of you was something he thought about a lot. The wide smile and innocent eyes had changed into something else as you grew up.

It's almost unbelievable that the same child has later gone to kill someone. Alas, Chrollo has no right to call it unbelievable. Circumstances change and who knows how you were brought up.

"What were you like as a kid, Chrollo?"

"Nothing special," he replies. "I want to hear more about you. Why don't you remember anything about your childhood?"

For the first time in very long, you willingly look up at him while he has his hands on you. Chrollo's palm slightly moves against the fabric of your shirt as your body slightly shifts, the action making him painfully aware of the curve of your hip under his palm. The eyes that meet his suffice to halt his breathing for a few seconds, but Chrollo finds himself enjoying that feeling.

The most rewarding of all, however, is the sight of your lips moving to allow you to form words.

"I don't know." Your voice is hushed, breathy. It's almost as though you've already tired yourself of this thought countless times before and wish not to do the same again. "And I'm not lying. I really don't know. Isn't it normal? I mean, as children we don't remember everything. Isn't it normal to not remember anything at all?"

Chrollo thinks over your question. He personally remembers the majority of his childhood and so do the other troupe members. The only explanations he can think of is either memory loss or suppressed memories due to traumatising events. For some reason, he wishes that it's the former.

"It's not normal."

You sigh. "I guess so."

Eye contact breaks and once again you slump in his hold. The warmth of your body envelopes Chrollo's side as you snuggle into him, and he grabs the opportunity with the desperation of a starving man. Palm previously on your waist, it travels upwards to briefly rest and then travels downwards. Chrollo repeats the up and down motion till you relax even further.

Silence ensues, but it's short lived. Chrollo's hand is removed from your hip by you but immediately put around your shoulders as you move impossibly closer to him. Almost instinctively he lets his hand wander to your hair, fingertips lightly massaging your scalp as you sigh.

The both of you remain like that in silence until Chrollo hears your breathing grow slower and feels your body go completely lax. With the simple skin to skin contact he just had with you, Chrollo thinks his itch for physical touch has been assuaged. Unfortunately for you, he feels another kind of need growing.

It takes a lot for Chrollo to tuck you into bed.

He was so occupied by the fact that you had finally allowed him to touch you so carelessly, even going as far as to snuggle up to him, that he absolutely did not want to part with your warmth. Alas, life is cruel and he had to put you to bed.

Now sitting in the darkness of the living room, Chrollo again goes through your phone's gallery. He stops at the pictures of you as a child and just stares. He doesn't understand why he's doing this, but he is.

He can't take his eyes off of the picture.

So much has changed, but why? What happened in your upbringing that led to your moral compass being so odd? Yes, you've committed murder even if you repeatedly call if self defence, but you don't seem too particularly bothered about it. Chrollo would have brushed that contradiction off if it wasn't for what you said earlier.

'Isn't it normal to not remember anything at all?'

Maybe that's how you had coped with the gap in your memories. But, he shakes his head, that is not what he needs to do.

Skill Hunter is conjured into Chrollo's right hand, and he stares at the cover in the darkness. He hadn't used your ability after he took it so there's a few questions he wants answered. He just isn't sure whether using the ability will answer anything.

Regardless, pages flip and a page containing your picture opens up. His sight instantaneously changes into something more overwhelming, something brighter and sharper.

Chrollo can see every single ray of light peeking through the curtains while any and every white light is now consisting of rainbows.

The darkness turns into normal lighting for him, and he raises a brow at how even the curtains look like they're illuminated.

After a few more moments of staring at the changes in his sight, Chrollo looks at his left arm. He imagines the Ben's knife he usually uses and before he knows it, it's conjured into his hand with no effort at all.

The sight of the white, translucent knife in his hand makes him recall your dishevelment from conjuring your dead friend’s head.

If something like this happens to an ordinary civilian who has no knowledge of Nen then it’s practically guaranteed to chip away at their sanity until they isolate themselves. However, you actively attempted to understand it better. The books you had picked out at the library are proof.

Chrollo even thinks he figured out how you may have killed that man.

Deep in thought, Chrollo subconsciously starts twirling the Ben’s knife in his hands. It feels exactly the same as the one he owns and even the sharpness is the same but the colour is, well, different. Considering that conjuring something so easily like this is possible, he figures the ability is more handy than he thinks.

The sound of a door’s hinges silently creaking registers in Chrollo’s mind, but before he reacts to the sound, footsteps rush from one corner of the living room to another. Skill Hunter is instinctively closed, his aura flaring in defence as he gets up and faces the source of the loud croak.

Chrollo sees you standing in front of the now open window. Panting heavily, terror is painted across your countenance as you attempt to guard the open window with your body. His eyes briefly flicker to your injured hand hanging by your side before they rest on your face.

When his aura dies down, you relax a little bit, but Chrollo doesn’t miss the way you’re looking at Skill Hunter.

“[Name],” he says, “I got startled. Why are you up at this hour?”

Voice shaking, you hardly get words out. “You… put away that book… please…”

“Book?” Chrollo glances at his right hand for a moment. “Do you mean Skill Hunter?”

“Put it away!”

Wordlessly, Chrollo does as told. You immediately relax when the book disappears, but the guarded exterior hasn’t mellowed down. The room starts getting warmer due to the open window and Chrollo has to fight back the urge to go and close it himself. There’s a reason people use the AC in summers.

However, as soon as he takes one step, your breathing stops for a moment. He stops in his tracks and in the overwhelming silence of the apartment, Chrollo thinks he can almost hear your wildly pounding heart. You’re still guarding the window with your body which serves to further confuse him.

“You should close the window.” He sighs when you don’t respond. “The AC is on.”

You raise your bandaged hand to your chest, eyes intently watching him. “You won’t summon the book again, right?”

“Why would I do that?”

You bite your lip, seemingly hesitant to trust him, but step away from the window regardless. Dull footsteps accompany your little run to the bedroom, leaving Chrollo standing there confused. What was that?

After closing the window, he decides to gingerly approach the bedroom, opening the door as gently as he can. Contrary to what he thought, you’re currently curled into yourself under the cover. The only proof of your presence underneath it is the big bump.

Chrollo sits himself on the edge of the bed and waits for any reaction from you.

There is none.

Thus, he does what comes to mind: pull off the cover.

Your surprised face greets his smiling one as you sputter out your words, usual confidence and indifference having not yet returned.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Checking on you,” he smiles. “You were acting odd earlier. What was that about?”

Your expression morphs into one of indignance, body halfway sitting up but still somewhat lying on your side. “That’s not important.”

“It is to me. You were clearly upset over something and frazzled.”

“I woke up and saw your book. Of course I was upset.”

“You’re not telling me everything.” Chrollo leans towards you, smile widening when he sees you shrink into yourself closer to the headboard. You’re being intimidated and cornered. That’s good.

“You… you don’t need to know everything.” With that, you grab the cover and pull it towards you to cover yourself, but he stops you short of the action. Chrollo’s grip is stronger, so you end up pleadingly looking at him in hope he’d let go.

He does not.

“You’re my soulmate,” Chrollo states, slowly scooting closer. “I’m obligated to protect and cherish you. That includes taking care of you which in turn includes knowing why you are upset with things so that I can deal with them.”

“I thought you said you only wanted to do whatever you wanted.”

He tilts his head playfully. “I placed that obligation on myself.”

Again, you try to pull the cover toward you only to shriek when a strong pull from Chrollo causes both it and you to land closer to him. The harsh tug almost makes your injured hand hit the mattress but you manage to save it. The glare you send him is enough proof of your added displeasure.

“Sorry.” Letting go, he scoots even closer to you and gently grabs the bandaged hand, placing it in his lap. If your open mouth and widened eyes are anything, you’re probably surprised at the bold action.

Patient as ever, Chrollo gives another try to his pursuit of figuring out the cause behind your unexplained distress. “What’s wrong? You’re not telling me everything.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I am your destined other half.”

“How romantic.”

“And now you’re dodging the question.”

You groan and Chrollo finds himself chuckling at that.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble, quite obviously not in favour of telling him anything. “That book creeps me out. That’s all.”

The admittance frankly amuses him. “It creeps you out? That’s a surprise. It’s just a book.”

“Don’t forget what you made me witness.” All emotion drains from your face. Eyes distant, you look at Chrollo with what he can only describe as condemnation. “Just because a few months have passed doesn’t mean I forgot.”

Ah. You must be referring to Indoor Fish. Chrollo admits he went too far with that one, yet he didn’t think you would hold it against him. How cute.

“I thought you would’ve forgotten about it.”

You scoff. “Well that’s a stretch.”

Chrollo narrows his eyes. You’ve been oddly chatty ever since your injury. Is there something up your sleeve or are you indulging him because you have no other choice? Maybe he’s reading too much into it, but there is always room for surprises when it comes to you. Despite how enervated you may seem at times Chrollo knows you’re observing and making note of everything.

Unfortunately for you, so is he.

“You ran to the window right when the door opened. I didn’t notice it at first, but I did.” His hand gently holds your injured one’s wrist. A silent threat, one that he wouldn’t dare go ahead with but a threat nonetheless. “Considering normal human reaction times and the fact that you just woke up, you shouldn’t have been able to so quickly see Skill Hunter in my hand and act accordingly in the same second that you opened the bedroom door.”

You still. Whether it’s from his grip on your wrist or his blatant statement of your actions not adding up he can’t tell. After a few seconds of silently staring at each other, you capitulate while biting your lip.

“I was… well… I was going to get some water, but I stopped when I opened the door just a crack. My hand was throbbing and I was debating having to talk to you. That’s when I saw you through the little gap and something white in your hand.” You nervously look away, hand fidgeting with the bedsheet under your palm. “I saw the book and panicked.”

“So you were watching me?” Maybe he shouldn’t have been so absent minded, but it’s not like you have the power to do anything.

“I wasn’t watching you. Heck, I didn’t even ‘watch’. I saw the book and went primal. That’s it”

“Hm.”

Chrollo bends to look at your face. When your eyes meet, you’re quick to move back but his grip on your wrist stops you. The fact that he’s grabbing your injured hand so close to the stitches must have unnerved you because you immediately relax yet you’re still wary.

Despite all that, Chrollo lets you go with a smile and stands, eyeing how confused you look at him.

“You said you wanted water, right?”

“Well… um yes?”

He takes a step back, turning around to leave the room. “I’ll get you some. Stay here.”

Your injury may have led to you being a little too uncharacteristically honest and chatty, but it’s all in his favour. When it comes to you, fate hasn’t done Chrollo wrong yet, and he decides to uphold that.

#posting something i completed while i was gone these last 5 days #hunter x reader #yandere hunter x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer

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juceynightmare · 1 year

Text

dating 101 (18+) part 21 - cody rhodes x reader

my masterlist

dating 101 (18+) masterlist

pairing(s): cody rhodes x reader, roman reigns x reader, randy orton x reader (brief)

warning(s): swearing, mentions of cigarettes, talking about kinks, knifeplay, bloodplay, cnc, possessive!cody, no actual smut (yet)

genre(s): college!au, slow burn, fluff, angst, smut-ish

|| previous part || next part ||

it was supposed to be cody at the door, after all, no one else should be knocking on her door at this time. so as soon as she got up out of her seat and opened the door, she reached out and grabbed his wrist to pull him in without looking. “damn, you were quick with your shower this time. impatient or something?” she teased as she turned to close the door and lock it. she turned herself back around, leaning up and throwing her arms around his neck to pull him down and press her lips against his.

the kiss had quickly deepened itself and he was skillfully dragging his tongue against hers and swallowing her moans and whimpers. however, something about the kiss was different, the taste was something like cigarettes and… y/n pulled away as soon as she felt calloused hands push up her shirt slightly and rest against the skin of her hips while the crinkle of a plastic bag filled the room.

“fuck, i know that wasn’t for me, but damn codes is one lucky man if you were going to greet him like that.” randy mused once he felt her pull away, opening his eyes and meeting her panicked gaze. “sorry. i couldn’t control myself, i should have pulled away but fuck, you’re sinful, y/n.” he complimented, taking a step back and letting his hands fall from where they rested on her hips. his arms fell back against his sides and he tightened his hold on the plastic bag to ignore the growing tightness of his jeans.

“randy?” y/n questioned, her face feeling hotter than the sun. she brought her hand up to her lips, her fingers brushing against her bottom lip as she stared up at randy with wide eyes.

“that’s me, yes. now why you acting like that? i know cody isn’t one for dating… unless you two are secretly a thing then shit, i’ll take the blame. or, better yet, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you know?” randy said, turning around and walking further into the room. he set the plastic bag down on y/n’s desk before taking a seat in her chair, making himself comfortable and leaning back.

“no, we’re not a thing.” she whispered, walking over to her bed to take a seat and bringing her hand down from her face. “sorry. i didn’t know it was you at the door. i was waiting for cody so i thought it’d be cody and then… i really have no explanation for the kiss without sounding like a whore.” she groaned, turning over and faceplanting into her mattress.

“no need to be shy. we’re both adults here. we’re single so it’s not like we’re cheating on our significant others. you thought i was cody and kissed me, and that’s that. can’t change the past. besides, it was a good fucking kiss. i wouldn’t mind doing that again and more if you get bored of fucking cody.” randy laughed, watching the way y/n cutely thrashed on her bed.

y/n’s next words were a muffled mess that had randy’s eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “lovely, you’re going to need to lift your head from your mattress if you want to speak. i can’t understand you.” he mused.

“i thought you were supposed to text that you were here!” y/n said, lifting her head for a moment to speak before thrusting her face back down into her mattress. she wished the earth would open up under her and that she’d be swallowed alive. she can’t believe that she had made such a dire mistake.

not that it wasn’t too horrible. randy was by no means a bad kisser, and y/n certainly found the man physically attractive. she was simply embarrassed that she was bold enough to pull such a stunt only for it to not be cody.

she couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t feel disgusted while kissing randy, much like she had felt with roman. then again, she certainly feels disgusted now that she knew it was randy and not cody. perhaps austin was right.

“i texted you, actually. it’s cool though, some other person opened the door for me because they were leaving and i remembered where yours and cody’s dorms are.” he said. randy took a look around the room before asking, “speaking of my little, where is he?”

y/n groaned, pushing herself back up from her laying position. she positioned herself so she was sitting criss-cross on her bed with her back against the wall. “showering.” she answered, thankful that her face had cooled down in the time that she had attempted to shove herself into her mattress to disappear from randy’s sight. “what’s in the bag.” she asked, gesturing to the bag randy left on her desk with a nod of her head.

“codes’s shirt. i washed it for him because it was just covered in roman’s yack. oh, and his keys. that’s in there too.” he answered, leaning back in the chair with his gaze trained on y/n.

“can we forget that happened?” y/n asked quickly. “i don’t think cody would be too happy with me kissing his… big. what even is a big?”

randy shrugged his shoulders. “if you want to forget, then sure. but my offer still stands if you get bored of cody.” he replied. “and a big is like… it’s short for big brother i guess. a little mentorship within the frat type of deal. like how we’re all brothers in the frat but then you have your own little brother and big brother. you take care of your little, and your big takes care of you sort of deal.” he answered, taking a look around her room.

y/n nodded her head, acknowledging randy’s words. “oh, his keys are in there right? can you toss them to me, i’m going to get him a change of clothes from his room. he was just gonna come back in boxers but i don’t know if he’d feel comfortable in just that around you.”

randy laughed and shook his head. “the clothes are gonna come off anyway, he’ll be fine. besides, i’ve seen way more than you think i have. pretty sure the first event was the one where we made the pledges go skinny dipping.” he remembered, an almost fond tone in his voice.

y/n couldn’t feel more afraid for cody, knowing that in the future he’d most definitely be in randy’s position and fondly reminiscing on the “good ol’ days of being a pledge”. she paused, thinking over randy’s response before exclaiming, “wait, what do you mean the clothes are gonna come off anyway? cody and i were not going to-“ she was cut off by the sound of knocking on the door.

“i got this, in case you try and pull that same stunt and it’s not cody.” randy teased as he stood up, walking over to the door to unlock it and pull it open.

cody stared at randy with wide eyes, clearly not expecting his big to be there. “randy? the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him as randy walked back over to y/n’s chair.

cody set down all of y/n’s stuff that he borrowed on to the dresser before he made his way over to where y/n was sat on her bed.

y/n wondered how cody didn’t feel a little bit embarrassed in that moment, especiallt since he was only wearing a pair of boxers and had the towel draped over his shoulders. when he came to sit down beside her, cody’s arm had immediately wrapped around her shoulders so he could pull her close to him and press her against his side.

she felt her face warm up. they had been subtle with their pda whenever ted was around, keeping it at the level it always had been before they had started fucking. but it certainly wasn’t at this level: where cody was almost naked and so casually pulling y/n up against him. and he was doing this in front of randy of all people.

maybe austin was right.

“why else would i be here? i came to drop off your keys and your shirt that i washed - you’re welcome, by the way.” he laughed, smiling widely at the sight of cody with y/n pressed against his side. “also to come spend time with y/n. can’t leave a woman like her alone for too long, codes. she seems like an insatiable one.” he teased, watching the way cody’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion while y/n’s face had grown impossibly red as she shoved her face into cody’s side to hide away from randy’s gaze.

randy pushed himself off of the chair, walking over to the two and dapping up cody. “i’ll get out of here. take care of cody, lovely. and codes, you better bring her to the rest of our functions.” he said, waving goodbye and making his way out of the room, making sure to shut the door behind him.

“now, why would randy call you insatiable, sweetheart? better yet, what’s with the nickname lovely?” he asked, as soon as the door was shut. he brought his hand up to the back of y/n’s head, entangling his fist into her hair and forcefully pulling her head away from his side. her small whimper had only encouraged cody further, and he forced her to look up at him.

y/n gulped, meeting cody’s hungry gaze. “i don’t know.” she whispered, hoping cody wouldn’t press any further.

cody hummed, tightening his grip on her hair. “more like you don’t want to tell me.” he mumbled, leaning down and pressing a kiss against her forehead. he let go of her hair, letting her head fall back into his side and cody adjusted himself so that she was resting against his chest instead. “i’ll get it out of you eventually. don’t think for a second that i forgot about you admitting you got some kinks, sweetheart.” he hummed, enjoying the way y/n had nodded against his chest.

“you first.” she whispered, already far too embarrassed from her encounter with randy. she didn’t want to feel immediately embarrassed in front of cody.

“what is this? a trade?” he mused, using his free arm to pull off the towel from around his shoulders. he threw it over to her chair before adjusting them so that cody was laying flat against the bed with y/n laying down on top of them. “you didn’t even ask me nicely.” he pointed out.

y/n pressed her hands flat against cody’s chest, pushing herself up and adjusting herself so she was sat right on cody’s bulge. his hands immediately found their place on her hips, and she smiled down at him. “please daddy. go first.” she whispered.

cody smiled, pushing up her shirt slightly and pressing his palms flat against her skin. “alright, i’ll just start off strong then to make you feel comfortable with sharing yours. i’m really into blood.” he said, watching the way y/n’s eyes widened in shock and a blush had risen to her cheeks. “fuck, you know that day i took your virginity and split you open? your pussy was bleeding after, and it was just a mixture of my cum and your blood and it’s the hottest shit ever. i wanted to smear your blood over your thighs and fucking lick it all up after to clean you.” he admitted. he had half expected y/n to either flinch away from the fact that cody wasn’t joking when he said he was into some fucked up shit, but to his surprise, y/n had stayed put.

“i wouldn’t mind that.” she whispered, and this time it was cody’s turn to be shocked. “i… really have a thing for knives.” she admitted, and she could feel cody’s bulge beneath her. “so if you ever wanted to… you know, leave some cuts and make me bleed, i really wouldn’t mind that.” she mumbled.

“and how’d you find that out, princess? that you wanted to be cut into.” he asked, bringing a hand up from her hips so he could cup her face with his hand.

she shrugged. “porn, mostly. but then i tried it on myself to check my pain tolerance and… i liked how it felt.” she whispered. “i also think it’d be hot to be scarred with my lover’s initials. be branded for life sort of deal, you know?”

“cnc?” cody immediately asked, his hand traveling down from her face to her neck as he gently wrapped his hand around her throat. he knew that people that were into as intense darker kinks like them were usually more often than not also into cnc. and cody didn’t know if he’d be able to give y/n up if she was willing to try cnc.

he watched as she nodded shyly, her blush having deepened from his question.

“you too?” she asked softly, although the wat cody’s gaze had darkened had his expression had turned hard was enough of an answer for her.

“been waiting to find someone i trust enough and who trusted me enough to finally try out all the fucked up fantasies i have. which, you know, would certainly be easier if i was looking for a girlfriend but we know how i am.” he admitted, bucking his hips up against her core slightly and enticing a moan to fall from her lips. “i have a real fucking beautiful iridescent karambit sitting in my desk. bet it‘d look even better pressed right against here.” cody murmured, his fingers pressing against the sides of her throat.

y/n could only gasp in reply, feeling her arousal start to pool between her legs.

“initials, right?” cody hummed, letting go of her throat and pushing the front of y/n’s shirt up. “having my initials would be real cute right here, don’t you think? your little boy toy roman would be able to see it if you wore a crop top.” he said, brushing his fingers against the right side of her waist as he focused on the unmarked skin, already visualizing how big he’d leave his initials against her.

“cody.” she breathed out, making the man tear his gaze away from her waist and meet her own.

“tell me more. what else do you want me to do to you, princess?” he urged her on, his hands resting back on her hips as he guided her to grind down against him.

how could she ever think that she’d be able to just stop being with cody like this?

her mouth had been left permanently agape, the feeling of him pulsating against her being so distracting that y/n could barely formulate a thought. “i like the idea of being blindfolded and tied up. i think in general, i just love the idea of being used until i’m broken, crying, and begging for you to stop.” she admitted, much to cody’s delight.

cody chuckled, smiling up at y/n. “i could do that, if you let me.” he promised, stilling her hips so that she could focus on her own thoughts. “i’ll even walk over to my room in just my boxers and a raging hard-on just so i can get my karambit if you really want.” he added on.

y/n stared down at cody, her eyes wide and her mouth still agape. “how about i get it instead?” she proposed, to which cody shrugged his shoulders.

“up to you, princess. either way, sounds like you’re not opposed to me literally carving myself into your skin and have you bleed for me.” he told her, as y/n leaned down so that their foreheads were pressed together.

“if you keep saying stuff like that, i don’t think i’ll ever be able to even think of another man.” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

instead of replying, cody pressed his hand against the back of her neck and captured her lips in a kiss, his tongue hungrily pressing against hers before he pulled her back roughly. something like anger flashed in his gaze, and y/n knew she should be afraid but god, did it turn her on even more.

“you kissed randy.” cody realized, his eyebrows furrowing in anger as he glared at her.

her eyes widened in shock. “how did you-“

“you fucking taste like cigarettes, and i know randy smokes that shit. your reaction is only proving that i’m right.” cody answered, tangling his fist in her hair and pulling at it roughly, causing her to yelp out in pain. “is that why he called you insatiable? i go and take a shower so you go off and kiss randy because i’m not there.” he practically growled.

cody sat up, bringing y/n up along with him and reeling in the mix of fear and arousal that had pooled in y/n’s gaze. “get my knife. in the smallest pocket of my backpack. i’m going to have to carve my entire fucking name into you at this point if it’ll make you behave for the 20 minutes i go and take a shower.” he told her, watching the way she nodded her head and moved to get out of his grasp.

cody quickly pulled her in, realizing that she seemed to have forgotten that cody was still gripping her by her hair. he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, letting his kiss linger against her before pulling away and whispering, “don’t take too long, i’ll miss you even if it’s been a second that you step out of this room.”

y/n smiled, and felt satisfied when cody mirrored her own smile before letting go of her hair. she leaned in and stole another kiss from him before pushing herself off of his lap and the bed and grabbing cody’s keys from the bag randy had left on her desk.

she left the room, jogging slightly so that she didn’t keep cody waiting for too long.

and to think she was about to let this opportunity go.

|| next part ||

#cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes smut #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes #wwe smut #wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfic

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glade-constellation · 6 months

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“We’re going to literally spell out why the bad guy is bad, and how to help them, but do nothing about it because they are Bad Guy™️ and bad guys can’t change.”

The current running theme for every single fucking villain in TSAMS. A running theme I viscerally hate with my entire being. I think KC was the only one to escape this, but even then they just killed him off later.

For a show that seems to want to handle sensitive and heavy topics, they sure as hell never handle them well. Listen, if a majority of your audience is young teens, you need to be careful with the story you tell and what might be taken from it. TSAMS is teaching its audience that bad people will never change.

That’s just not true. At all.

Often people who act out do so because of past trauma. Trauma can be healed with time and therapy. Yes, it’s difficult, especially when the person says they don’t want to heal. But you can do it. Did you know that rejecting help can be a subconscious survival tactic? It doesn’t instantly mean that the person wants to be bad, or wants to stay bad. They are simply living in survival mode, and their brain thinks the way they currently act is the only way to survive.

Just because Bloodmoon says they can’t be helped doesn’t mean it’s true. And it definitely doesn’t mean they immediately deserve death. Yes, they have done terrible things, but nearly everything they’ve done has been ordered of them by another person. That, or their coding. The coding may be a harder thing to fix, but listen. Look at your current cast. You can’t tell me Moon and Solar couldn’t work together to fix it. Or Earth couldn’t help them with therapy and they’d eventually turn to killing just animals. There are so many ways Bloodmoon could be helped, but no. Just no. They don’t want to be helped, so we won’t go out of our way to try.

It’s just so unbelievably frustrating that several fans have pointed this out and the show doesn’t seem to care. Bloodmoon has room to be redeemed, even now, but the show doesn’t want that. They seem to be stuck on this idea the Bloodmoon can’t be redeemed.

And it’s not like this is a new theme they’re trying to tell for the story. No, this has been around since Eclipse. Yes, Sun and Moon did try to help Eclipse in the beginning, but help is a strong word. It was more like they tried to bargain with him. No one actually tried to help. And the moment the bargaining didn’t work, they just dubbed him the villain and turned against him. In the end, Eclipse tried to help. It was pretty terribly done, yeah. But he was trying. He even gave up his one piece of power and told Moon he could send him anywhere in the multiverse. But no, the only way out was through death. I get that Eclipse did a lot of terrible things. I get that a large majority of the cast had their own trauma because of Eclipse. But he could have been helped. We have seen moments where he wanted help, but would immediately turn back to his survival tactics. Eclipse was bad, but he didn’t have to die.

Anyways, they already taught the “villains always bad” story with Eclipse. They don’t need to retell it with Bloodmoon. That’s just reusing old parts of the story.

The only reason I don’t bring Ruin up is because Ruin was different from all the others. There wasn’t anything that made him a villain besides the fact that he was a virus. There was no “sad backstory”. He just was evil. That is how you write a villain you want your audience to love but still want to kill off in the end. Ruin was fun to watch, and a great villain, and I wasn’t mad when they got rid of the virus. I was attached but not at the emotional level as I am with Eclipse, KC, and Bloodmoon. He had no backstory to make me want him to live. I love a villain that is enjoyable to watch but don’t mind when they’re gone. That is how you write a good villain you don’t want people to riot about afterwards.

This has just turned into me ranting about storytelling and character analysis, but honestly. TSAMS. Do better. A good portion of your fan base is screaming for a Bloodmoon redemption. Why are you pushing so hard for people to hate them? You’ve already told the plot line you’re currently trying to sell. What is the point of just upsetting your fans?

#🌟 Ten Talks #tsams #sams #the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #tsams bloodmoon #tsams eclipse #tsams killcode #tsams ruin #long post #not super long but long enough

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frvnkcastles · 1 year

Text

HOLD TIGHT FOR TOMORROW ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You just want to be comforted.

Warnings: Feminine nicknames, anxiety, implied PTSD, fluff, unspecified triggers

Word count: 1k

Author’s note: Another one based on a request :) This is something I relate to a lot, I always feel on edge and unsafe and force myself to stay productive. Maybe this will resonate with someone else too. Happy weekend everyone <3

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong. All you knew was that there was an iron grip around your heart, suffocating you and filling you to the brim with an impending sense of doom, making you certain that something bad was going to happen. Again. It seemed, in fact, that only bad things happened to you. Why would this seemingly ordinary Friday be any different? One could argue you had been getting too comfortable as of late, letting your guard down, making you susceptible to any threats awaiting around the corner for just the right moment.

What those threats would be, you had no idea. All you had was a sickening gut feeling and the relentless inability to relax even in your own home.

As soon as you slowed down, the thoughts came rushing in. So, you figured, the solution was simply keeping as busy as you could. You first made a mission out of changing your and Frank’s bedsheets, and it was right in the middle of that menial task that he found you, leaning against the doorway to watch you.

”Need some help with that?” he asked gruffly, observing your fast-paced movements with an arched eyebrow.

You reacted quickly enough to alert him. ”No”, you spoke sharply, before realizing the venom in your tone and reeling it in. ”Sorry. I’m feeling a little off. But I’ve got this, baby, thank you”, you insisted with a weak smile, and nodding slowly, Frank stayed silent but took his time before he left you. You were clearly on high alert, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out — the thing that Frank couldn’t put his finger on, though, was what had triggered you.

After the bedsheets, it was arranging the kitchen cabinets. After that, folding the laundry into color-coded piles, then clearing the photo album on your phone. Whatever it took to avoid sitting alone with your thoughts and the nauseating feeling of just something being off, something being wrong. Relaxing wasn’t an option, and Frank sensed as much. He could count on one hand the times you had declined cuddling with him on the couch with a movie in the background, and yet, here you were.

It was when you aired out the idea of cleaning the toilet that Frank took your hand, stopping on your tracks. You turned over to him with a confused look, and he met it with a worried one, gently tugging you to sit down on the couch with him.

”What’s wrong, sweetheart? Can tell somethin’s up. Y’know ’m here for you, yeah?” Frank pleaded, tilting his head low so he could meet your eye, while his thumb gently caressed the back of your hand. He didn’t want to push too hard and risk you withdrawing even more, but when tears began welling up in your eyes and your bottom lip trembled involuntarily, he figured he had applied just the right amount of pressure.

”I don’t know”, you whispered with a sniffle and dropped your face against your palm. ”I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just feel wrong”, you managed before a sob rose from your throat, and shushing you softly, Frank scooted closer to you so he could wipe your hair away from your face.

”Hey, hey, you listen to me, there ain’t a thing wrong with you, aight?” he spoke sternly, not taking any arguments about it. ”You’re a goddamn treasure, sweetheart. I wouldn’t change anythin’ about you, got that?” he continued, and his words only making you cry harder, you leaned into his chest.

He couldn’t deny, he was feeling just a little useless, sitting there with you half in his arms. ”What do ya need, baby? Tell me. Anythin’ you want, you got it”, Frank promised, dead-serious about every single word.

You were at a loss for words for a moment, but eventually the emotion just bubbled up your chest, up your throat and out of your mouth in a sob. ”I just want to be comforted, please. I just… I need you to comfort me”, you pleaded, and shushing softly, Frank nodded while pulling you into a renewed hug.

”Okay, okay, baby. I’m right here. It’s gonna be alright, I promise. Everythin’s gonna be just fine. I’mma make sure of it”, he swore under his breath, caressing your hair while firmly holding your trembling body, making sure he was a stable constant that you could rely on.

”I know it feels bad right now, I know, sweet girl. But I promise, everythin’ is gonna work out. I’ll be right here to stand by you every step of the way. You don’t gotta do anythin’ alone”, Frank continued reassuring you, his big hands gentle as they ran down your hair and across your back.

You managed to stop crying, your breathing heavy as you leaned into him. ”I can’t describe it, I just—I feel like something bad is in the air. Like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I don’t know where it’s coming from”, you explained weakly, and smiling sadly, Frank nodded.

”I know exactly where it’s coming from. And it ain’t your fault. Sometimes… sometimes your head just pulls frustrating shit like this on you, but you haven’t done a thing wrong”, he reminded, gently tapping at your temple.

You took in a deep breath and nodded. You remained silent, unsure what to say, feeling like everything you spoke out loud made no sense — but to Frank, it did. He knew what it was like to have a suffering mind, one that was struggling to stay afloat and clung onto the littlest thing to keep itself so.

And that was why he didn’t hesitate to offer some help.

”Hey, lemme distract you, huh? We can take a walk and you can focus on holding my hand and breathing in the fresh air. Maybe a change of scenery would do you some good, hm?” he proposed, his eyes meeting yours as he offered a careful smile. Something about the sight comforted you enough to break into a similar expression, and agreeing to his plan, you bowed your head in a nod.

”That’s my girl”, Frank praised with a grin before leaning in to kiss your forehead. ”We’re gonna kick those thoughts away together, I promise.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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hotpinkrathian · 1 month

Note

your last tlok post has me obsessed, any ttpd and rangshi headcanons??

OMG YES

After I made the LoK post I began to spiral down the rangshi tunnel and here is what I got

Florida!!! Describes the time when Kyoshi and Rangi first started to fall in love. Kyoshi became obsessed with the freedom she got with the flying Opera Company. That taste of her power and what she could be was a drug to her. Throw in those moments with Rangi and my girl reminisces about the early days of her "team avatar" adventures. I think it also fits well because she was also very broken at this time, the trauma that was father gloworm and Jianzhu's betrayal is what drove her to this sort of in-between peace.

Fortnight: Rangi core. This is the song that plays every time she has a little moment with Kyoshi. I see this paired with Down Bad and it shows the sort of fluffier side of things before shit goes down when she is PINING after Kyoshi trying to get her attention. Fortnight could also be the fluffier song when they are down by the lake.

Rangi and "I Can Fix Him, (No Really I Can)" would make for an interesting one shot where maybe she has to get her family on board with their relationship. Kyoshi seems broken and malicious but Rangi testifies to her character and is adamant about making Kyoshi the best avatar she can be.

loml from Kyoshi's POV about Yun : (

I also like the vision of Rangi feeling/singing something adjacent to MBOBHFT, used in a context about how Kyoshi is always injuring herself, and rarely makes a big deal of it. I especially like this idea if you *change* the words a little bit and get "only breaks my favorite toys" instead of "his favorite toys" because that feels so angsty to me. Like Rangi loves Kyoshi so much, and seeing how Kyoshi has little to no disregard for her wellbeing, it breaks Rangi's heart a little bit.

___________________________________________

"Stop worrying," Kyoshi said, recoiling at Rangi's touch.

"I have to worry, Kyoshi. I have to."

"No you don't! I never want you to worry about me." Rangi frowned as she helped her girlfriend lay down, pretending not to notice the wince of pain Kyoshi attempted to subdue.

"You don't get, Kyoshi. If I don't worry, no one will. You may not care but these parts of you that you're willing to let go... I love them. I love all of them. I need you whole. So stop breaking yourself."

Kyoshi looked at her with pensive eyes. She looked like she was going to say something, and Rangi almost wished she wouldn't. Things were getting to cushy already and she didn't like the swirl of uneasiness in her gut. She couldn't push Kyoshi into horse stance to shut things down this time, so she'd have to endure it. Even if it meant she shed a couple tears.

But, as Kyoshi opened her mouth, her thoughtful eyes turned into panicked ones. Rangi simply lifted the bucket next to her and brought it before her girlfriends face as Kyoshi began to return her lunch.

"I'll be better," Kyoshi said, in-between dry-heaves. "Because I don't like this part of being injured."

Rangi smiled a little bit, moving Kyoshi's hair out of the way.

"And I know if it were you... I'd be upset, too. Because I love you. And your... parts are my favorite, too." Kyoshi jumbled.

Rangi appreciated the sentiment by planting a small kiss on Kyoshi's head. She looked down at Kyoshi's bloodied abdomen and the knife that protruded from it.

"I suppose," she began, and Kyoshi looked at her without moving her mouth. "That given the circumstances, I can forgive you. Just this once."

___________________________________________

Now OF course, Who's Afraid of Little old Me? Is so Kyoshi coded. It just FITS so well. I need displays of her power showcased to this song ASAP.

People were so quick to rule her out based on the fact she couldn't bend small things. "Poor fragile Kyoshi has a hard time with bending" then Kyoshi gets her fans and is like watch me bitch. Her showing up to bandit camps, slumlords and all the bad gangs at the time to make a name for herself. The world has been without an avatar, they've forgotten to be afraid of the bigger fish. She here she comes, and when she gets a first taste of that blood she doesn't stop. She makes it VERY clear she is not to be reckoned with. Cue the montage.

Finally, I feel like there is room here for The Prophecy, but I'm not quite sure how or where yet. Another one I have to let sit and marinate before it becomes a full headcannon. Maybe it plays more into the old team avatar (Hei-Rang, Kelsang, Jianzhu) than specifically Rangshi though.

Thank you for the ask and I hope this satisfied your TTPD x Rangshi craving : )

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svnflower-writes · 2 months

Text

i'll stay in the pool and drown (so i don't have to watch you leave)

description: in which Sirius runs away and Regulus is left to deal with his emotions alone.

relationship: james potter x regulus black

warnings: mentioned child abuse + neglect, angst, hurt/comfort, not much jegulus more focused on reg and sirius. not a warning but i love pandora sm

word count: 3,806

requested: no but it tied for first in the poll

note: inspired by me listening to tv by billie eilish on loop (title lyric is so regulus coded). some mutuals will know allll about my little spiral and how it included a lotttt of tv by billie. oops. this is very angsty and possibly a reflection of my mental state rn but uh… sorry??? also this is totally unedited as always oops. also there’s not really much jegulus but the stuff that's there is fluffy. It’s mainly regulus and sirius being siblings and regulus centred angst bc i love him. a bit of sirius focused angst snuck in at the end and i didn't plan that but i love him soooo. again. i'm sorry. this is almost 4k words of pure angst. so.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54978655

marauders taglist: (lmk if you want to be added or removed) @lovefolder @gu1lty-as-sin @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @a-beautiful-fool @optimizedchaos @qwerty-keysmash @lost-in-reveriie @tulips-best @nqds

Regulus supposed that deep down, he had always known how everything would turn out. Sirius was always going to leave him, it was an unavoidable fact. Some things were simply written in the stars, irreversible parts of life that could not be changed by mere mortals meddling around with them. But just because it was fixed in stone, just because it was fate, didn’t stop Regulus from being completely and utterly destroyed by the mere concept.

Sirius had been the only true constant in his life.

He had been there when Regulus was five and their mother had looked at him with true resentment in her eyes and slapped him across the face for the first time. He had held the younger boy in his arms and ran his fingers through his hair, both boys shaking with fear as tears rolled down their cheeks.

He had been with Regulus when he was eight and Orion had verbally abused him for merely interacting with a muggleborn. Sirius had sat down with Regulus and ensured that he had known that nothing he had done was wrong. After Reggie had understood this, they snuck to the kitchen and stole a jar of cookies to eat while the two hid in Sirius’ room.

He had been there when Regulus was nine, his parents locking him in his room with no food for two days because he had freed one of their house elves. Sirius had sat outside Regulus’ door for the whole time, whispering to him and slipping food through the gap under the bed. They had sat in silence, neither finding anything to say that could possibly improve the situation. But silence or not, being there together made them both feel immensely better.

Sirius leaving for Hogwarts was one of the worst years of Regulus’ life—he knew Sirius would be back, though, and that’s what kept him counting the days.

Once Regulus came to Hogwarts, him and Sirius had seemed to drift apart slightly. This didn’t hurt as much as Regulus had anticipated it would, because he now had friends. He had Pandora, Evan, Barty, and Dorcas. Sometimes he had Sirius too, but Sirius was popular; he didn’t need to cling to his brother like he once had. Regulus didn’t miss the lingering glances in hallways, but he never really took any specific notice of them. He assumed that if Sirius had wanted to speak to him, he would have.

In the summer holiday after Regulus’ first year, the brothers had reconnected. They grew closer than ever, and although they still didn’t speak much at school when they finally returned, there was no doubting the love between them.

Sirius had always been there. Whether he was actually present in the moment or just in Regulus’ head, he was always by his side in his heart. But then, during the Christmas holidays of the year when Sirius turned sixteen, something seemed to change. Sirius’ fights with their parents became more and more frequent, going from happening twice a week to twice a day. He stopped being around as often, crashing at James’ house a few times a week. Regulus was holding his breath, knowing that if he stepped out of line even the slightest bit, one of his parents would snap and everything would take a turn for the worse.

He was also spending an increasing amount of time at Pandora’s house, her sweet nature a much preferred option to the feeling of walking on eggshells in his own home. Evan was there most of the time, and where Evan was, so was Barty. Every once in a while they’d manage to drag Dorcas away from Marlene and get the whole group together, but that was rather rare. It was nice, though, spending time together without the pressure of school. It ensured that Regulus understood that they actually wanted to be around him, something he had struggled with for as long as he could remember.

One thing Regulus knew was that if asked who his best friend was, he would say Pandora without hesitation. He never doubted her genuinity, which soothed a lot of his anxiety and helped him put things into perspective. Regulus needed to know that he was wanted, and Pandora never hesitated to reassure him. The two had just had the Rosier house to themselves, Barty and Evan on a date and Pandora and Evan’s parents out for a dinner party. Music softly playing off Pandora’s record player she had bought at a muggle thrift store, the two sat on her bed eating chocolate brownies and talking about what some would consider nothing but was everything to them. They had been doing this for about six hours when Regulus decided that he should probably head home to avoid his parent’s anger at him for being late.

Regulus got home and knew before he even stepped in the door that something was terribly wrong. Slowly and cautiously opening the door, Regulus held his breath as he stepped inside. The house was eerily silent, no whispers of paintings or hurried footsteps of houselves, let alone not a single sign of human life. Exhaling softly, he quietly shut the door and attempted to walk down the hallway without making a sound–which turned out to be easier said than done. The eyes on the paintings followed his every move, not once losing focus on him. He raised his hand to his forehead and pushed some stray hairs out of his eyes before making his way up the stairs to his room. He went three steps at a time, eyes fixed on the floor as the nervous lump in his throat simply grew. After what felt like an eternity, he made it to his room. His hand closed around the cold metal doorknob and he exhaled shakily. Turning the door handle, he stepped into his room before pausing. He turned, eyes landing on the door to Sirius’ room. Sighing softly, he closed his door and made his way across the hall to the door of his brother’s room.

He knocked softly.

No reply.

“Sirius?”

He knocked again, slightly louder this time.

Still, nothing.

“Sirius, can I come in?”

There was no response. Regulus sighed, slumping down on the floor, leaning back against the door and letting his head knock against the wood. He chucked. “Doesn’t this remind you of something?”

Once again, nothing. He didn’t really know what he had expected.

“Sirius, I don’t mind if you don’t want to talk to me. I won’t be offended. Can I just come in and make sure you’re okay? Please?”

The silence that followed ached painfully in Regulus’ ears.

“I’m going to take your silence as a confirmation that I can come in.”

The only sound that broke the silence was Regulus’ sigh. He stood up, opening the door of Sirius’ room and glancing around slowly. It was messier than usual. Sirius wasn’t a tidy person, but he wasn’t this messy. Clothes covered every inch of the ground and one drawer of his chest of drawers had almost fallen right out of the frame. His bed was a sorry excuse of being made, covers and sheets falling off to the point where they were more on the floor than the bed itself. There was no Sirius to be seen.

“I guess he’s spending the night at James’ again.”

He turned to leave before pausing. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and started writing.

Hi, Siri.

I assume you’re at James’, and I hope you’re okay.

I miss you, by the way. Maybe we could hang out when you get home back.

Reg

Regulus liked James—possibly a little too much —so he knew his brother was in good hands. He just wished he could see him.

Two days later, Sirius wasn’t back. It was now pretty obvious to Regulus that he was not going to be back. Sirius had left .

Left him. Sirius had left him.

He couldn’t quite believe it. He had spent five hours last night simply sitting on Sirius’ bed, wishing he was still there. The emotions he was feeling were not quite describable, but if he was in a state where he could think of the words matching these emotions, he’d probably say he felt betrayed, lost, and hurt. Of course, he would never actually say that. Regulus wasn’t one to express his emotions. One thing that Regulus understood was that he felt no form of anger towards his brother. He recognised why Sirius had left, and he thought it was very understandable. What he hated was being left. He was alone in this horrendously big house and he didn’t even have it in him to talk to Pandora about it.

Regulus had never felt comfortable sharing his feelings. He assumed this was due to his parents pushing them away whenever he had tried to tell them anything at all.

Regulus knew he’d be okay. He didn’t need other people to survive, he never had.

Three weeks later, Pandora showed up at his bedroom door with a box of chocolates and a mission. She was determined to get him outside and out of the bedroom he was rotting in if it was the last thing she did. Regulus knew he was lucky to have a friend like her, but he wanted nothing more than to sit in his bedroom for the rest of his life. Part of him knew this was unhealthy, but part of him just didn’t want to show his face to the silent house he was residing in.

Pandora would do anything to make Regulus feel okay, and she was well aware that to do this she would have to take him to Sirius, but they would cross that bridge when the time was right. First, she had to carefully shake him out of his shell of self destruction, reminding him that there were people who cared for him.

Pandora sat on his bed, looking at him with soft eyes that he avoided at all costs. “Reg… Reg, look at me.”

He didn’t, but that didn’t stop Pandora from softly cupping his head in her hands. “Regulus, I have been your best friend for five years. I know something’s wrong—and you don’t have to tell me. Just come to my house with me, Merlin knows you need to get out of this house, and Barty and Evan are out. You don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to talk to.”

Now Regulus looked up Ever so slowly, he leaned in to rest his head on his best friend’s shoulders, not speaking but his eyes holding more meaning than his words at this moment possibly could.

After ten minutes of simply being in each other's presence, Regulus spoke. “Can we get out of this house?”

Pandora nodded, helping him up. “My house?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Would you rather be alone or do you mind seeing everyone else?”

“Where are they?”

“I think they’re at Marlene’s house.”

Regulus was not close to Marlene. He didn’t know much about her, in all honesty, but because her and Dorcas were practically attached by the hip, he assumed that she was nice. And to tell the truth, Regulus needed to see his friends. He paused before muttering.

“I want to see everyone.”

“Alright.”

Much to his relief, the mood of the hangout didn’t change vividly when he arrived. He noticed Barty and Evan shared a soft glance between them, and Dorcas gave him a quick hug that was noticeably more gentle than usual, but the conversation stayed as lively as it had been before he arrived. Regulus allowed himself to lean into Pandora’s side, twirling her long hair between his fingers. She continued talking to Dorcas as her right arm embraced Regulus into her side. Regulus didn’t speak much, but no one expected him to.

As comforting and grounding as it was, it wasn’t what he needed. Regulus needed reassurance, he needed affirmations that he wasn’t the reason his brother had left. And the only person who could truly give him this confirmation was Sirius himself. He felt guilty about this; Pandora was doing more than she had to do and he couldn’t feel the amount of gratitude he knew he should be feeling. He must have stiffened, because his best friend looked down at him with an amount of gentleness that made him feel alarmingly close to tears. He felt impossibly small, looking down at his hands and fixing his gaze on the golden sun ring he always wore as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Marlene looked at him curiously from where she sat on the dark red couch across the room. She cautiously glanced at Dorcas before speaking. “I know where Sirius is if you want to see him.” That was possibly the most Marlene had ever said to him. Regulus stared at her blankly for a moment, before nodding slowly.

“Yeah, uh. That sounds nice.” his voice was impossibly weak, and he might have been embarrassed had he had any awareness of himself at this moment. But he felt like a shell of himself, he wasn’t really there.

“Okay. We probably shouldn’t all go, it might be overwhelming. So–”

“I’ll come.” Pandora spoke, much to Regulus’ relief. Despite not feeling entirely complete with her affection and care, he appreciated it. It was a kind of foreign concept to him, the genuine adoration she had for him. He had never witnessed that in his family, let alone experienced it himself. He smiled shakily at her and she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

The trip to find Sirius was quiet, but no one seemed to mind. When they were about halfway there, Regulus’ heart leapt as he had a sudden realisation. They were on their way to James’ house. On second thought, it made sense. James Potter was Sirius’ best friend, he wasn’t sure why he was so alarmed by this fact. When they arrived at the house, Regulus took a deep breath. He was overwhelmed by the emotions of this moment, the concept of seeing Sirius for the first time in two and a half weeks and being back at James’ house was causing his head to spin. He hadn’t seen James in almost a month and it was achingly evident from the heavy feeling in his heart.

Walking through the door, the first thing he saw was Sirius’ black Doc Martens sitting next to a few pairs of dirty converse beside the doormat. James’ converse. He swallowed. The first thing he heard was Sirius’ voice from a few rooms away, which almost made him do a double take. Marlene walked further into the house after quickly kicking off her red converse, and Regulus followed soon after. Pandora kept her distance behind the two, not wanting to intrude on the moment—this consideration once again reminding Regulus how deeply he loved her.

Marlene glanced back to make sure Regulus was behind her, smiling gently at him before walking into the Potter’s living room. James looked up instantly, eyes widening a fraction as he took in the boy standing in the doorway. He clearly didn’t think his words through before blurting, “Reg?”

Sirius stopped talking, whirling around with wide, panicked eyes. “Regulus?”

Regulus desperately searched in his brother’s eyes for a sign that he could go hug him, that he could say something, that he could walk further into the room. There was a certain element of distress in Regulus’ eyes as he seeked the affirmation he so desperately needed. Sirius seemed to be in shock, and it was clear to James that he would not be affirming his brother’s doubts any time soon. He wanted to, of course he did—James was well aware that Sirius loved Regulus more than anything in his entire world. So James spoke up, saying possibly the most awkward thing he could have said in this situation.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

Regulus seemed to do a double take, but he nodded. He hadn’t considered that in order to make the cup of tea, James would have to leave the room. And James leaving the room meant Regulus and Sirius being the only ones in the room. He was unaware of this fact until James left the room, throwing a sweet, gentle smile over his shoulder. Regulus felt alarmingly alone without him there, his eyes darting from Sirius to the wall to the floor to Sirius again to his hands. He didn’t want to stare; if there was one thing that his parents had succeeded in, it was raising their youngest son with impeccable manners. No matter how good his manners were, his parents had failed to teach him how to deal with his anxiety. He fiddled with his hands, twirling the gold ring on his index finger around slowly for about a minute before finally looking up again.

This time, Sirius was looking at him too. The older brother seemed to understand that Regulus was not going to be the one to start this conversation, so he sighed and sat down, patting the spot on the couch next to him. Regulus sat, decidedly further away from Sirius than Sirius had gestured for, but Sirius didn’t seem to mind—if he did, he had the decency to stay silent. It would be hypocritical for Sirius to get upset about Regulus not sitting next to him on the couch after leaving him alone with their parents for two and a half weeks.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius eventually spoke.

Regulus said nothing, so Sirius shakily continued. “I didn’t want to leave you. It’s just– it just– it was too much. They were too much, you know?”

“They always have been.” Regulus mumbled softly.

“And they said something about Moony.”

Of course they did.

Sirius sighed, “he told me off for leaving you though. Said I should have bought you with me.”

“You should have.”

“I know.”

Just as the two brothers fell into an awkward silence, James walked in with a small grin on his face. “Okay, so, I think I remembered pretty well how you like your tea.”

Sirius looked between the two as James passed Regulus the mug, watching how their fingertips brushed and a smile graced Regulus’ lips. Regulus didn’t like milk or sugar in his tea, something that Sirius had always wrinkled his nose at. James took his tea far sweeter than Reg did, but he was more than happy to make it exactly to Regulus’ tastes if that was what would make him happy. “It’s perfect. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“How could I not?”

It was then that Sirius’ eyes fell to their hands, noticing that Regulus’ gold ring was a sun symbol and James wore a silver star one. This was a contrast to both of their usual jewellery colours, the gold earrings in James’ ears suddenly a lot more obvious than they had been minutes ago. Sirius silently watched the interactions between the two and swallowed slowly.

Sirius had this burning need to be loved, to be appreciated, to be the favourite. Regulus was his parents’ favourite son, and although he acted like this didn’t faze him, it stung. Sirius had introduced Reg to Barty and Evan, and now the three were inseparable. Sirius didn’t even talk to the two Slytherins anymore. Remus loved Regulus, the two had bonded over things that Sirius couldn’t even begin to understand—and he knew it was stupid. He knew that Remus looked at him like he had literally hung the stars, but there was this underlying jealousy of the fact that his brother got along with everyone without even trying. Regulus didn’t want to get along with people, he’d be quite happy spending his days whispering with Pandora and basking in his own company.

Was Regulus more likeable? More manageable? That had to be it. Sirius was too much for people. Sirius was too much for everyone.

And now, his best friend was snogging his brother behind his back. It wasn’t that he was bothered by their relationship, he didn’t care who Regulus dated as long as they didn’t hurt him—and James would never hurt him.

James was, theoretically, perfect for Regulus. They balanced each other out, much like Sirius and Remus. James was the Yang to his Yin, the base to his acid, the light to his dark. And perhaps it was the fact that the two fit together so naturally that bothered him. Perhaps it was the inherent jealousy of Regulus always being better than him at everything. Regulus had Sirius’ best friend looking at him with pure, soft adoration in his eyes, and Sirius couldn’t even deny how much sense they made together.

In his heart, Sirius knew how much love James had for him. James was one of those people who did not ration out the love and care he gave people, he was overflowing with genuine devotion and love, not hesitating to shower those around him with it. And Sirius knew that the two of them had the strongest friendship he had ever had and likely ever would. He knew it wasn’t going to change. Merlin, with how James gazed at Regulus, Sirius predicted that whatever they had had been going on for at least five months. And those five months had not changed how James had acted with Sirius, their friendship was as codependent as ever.

Sirius knew that James had enough love for both of them. He knew that the love that James could give was exactly what Regulus needed. Sirius knew that these feelings had been drilled into his mind by how his parents had treated him, but his parents weren’t here now. Sirius knew that this trauma ran deep, however, and it would take a while for him to come to terms with this relationship.

Regulus could tell from the look in his eyes that he had figured it out. It didn’t bother him, the only reason he and James hadn’t mentioned it to anyone was due to the complications with their families and how difficult it was to actually see each other regularly. Offering a soft smile to Sirius, Regulus leaned into his brother’s side. Sirius froze up for a moment, glancing at James as his eyes widened. James smiled tenderly at the two before getting up and leaving the room to wherever Marlene and Pandora were.

Slowly, Sirius relaxed, and Regulus almost breathed a sigh of relief. “I missed this.”

Sirius hummed, “I missed you more than you know, little star .”

Sighing, Regulus closed his eyes. Sirius may never be the constant in his life he had once been, but as long as he was part of it, Regulus couldn’t complain.

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hey-there-22 · 9 months

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GALLIFREYAN IS THEIR LOVE LANGUAGE

Gallifreyan, the last language of the Time Lords, able to burn stars and rise up empires and topple gods. But it was never just that. It's the first language he ever spoke, the language of his childhood, the language he taught his children and granddaughter. It's the language that brings him home. But his home is long gone and when Gallifrey fell, the language was lost with it.

What had meant family became the reminder of his loneliness. But he never stopped using it. He used it as a reminder of what he had lost, as a reminder not to let anyone else have to make the decision he made that day.

Gallifreyan means so much to the Doctor... And all the companions have sensed that at some point.

Rose used to stare at Nine writing on sticky notes, delicate tracings of all she didn't know about him, perfect circles and lines that fascinated her. She never dared to ask, though. When Jack joined them, not knowing the Doctor was the last of his kind, he had no problem doing it.

"What are you writing?" He asked peering over his shoulder. "Oh, Doctor, do you have a secret code you use to look enigmatic?" Smiling as he said it. "Is it even a real language or are you just using it to impress us?" It had just been their normal banter, he hadn't meant to hurt him.

The Doctor had turned serious for a moment, trying to make clear that Gallifreyan wasn't banter material-

"It's the language of my people." He answered simply. "Now," he added, a smile on his face and changing his tone completely while pressing buttons in the TARDIS controls, "who wants to go to the beach?"

Jack was confused, wanting to ask, but Rose took his arm, signaling for him to let it go.

"You're finally taking me somewhere I can get a proper tan." Rose said smiling to the Doctor, letting go of Jack's arm.

Jack understood Rose and went back to his normal harmless quips.

"Only if he's able to land the TARDIS in a real beach without an emergency crisis going on this time."

The Doctor had seen the interaction between Jack and Rose and he silently thanked her for it. He decided at that moment that if Rose ever asked, he would answer. The image of him teaching her how to read Gallifreyan even crossed his mind for a brief second.

"Oh, Jack, I'm going to land this TARDIS in the most beautiful beach you've ever seen.

And he did.

They never talked again about Gallifreyan with the Doctor, but the beauty of the circles always Intrigued them. They used to joke about what they thought was written on the sticky notes when Doctor wasn't there and that led to them trying to figure out how to read it, which circles where words and which ones where letters, failing every time to decipher it.

Rose understood it when she was Bad Wolf but it all faded away too quickly for her to remember it afterwards. Then, Jack was left behind and Rose stopped trying to figure it out. Ten would have taught her, but she never asked. Tentoo taught her without her needing to say anything.

Jack never stopped trying to understand it. Using the Torchwood files they had about Gallifreyan just like Martha used UNIT's. Working together and knowing what some of the messages said they made some progress at recognizing patterns but not enough to translate other messages.

Donna didn't give Gallifreyan a long thought while she was travelling with the Doctor. Just a Martian language. Sometimes Wilfred finds her doodling perfectly organized circles and lines when she is distracted. He hates not being able to tell her about the Doctor when she gets angry at herself after realizing she is doodling nonsense again.

When Ten met River she told him his name in perfect Gallifreyan. He thought he should have had to really love and trust her not only to tell her his name but to teach her Gallifreyan to the point of speaking it daily, judging by the accent. What he didn't know was that River had born with the ability to talk Gallifreyan, she was, after all, the daughter of the TARDIS.

Jack and River came across each other a couple of times, forming a close friendship over the years. Their love for the Doctor made them create a special bond. At that point Jack had lost all hope in learning Gallifreyan; his adventures with the Doctor had happened centuries ago and understanding sticky notes around the TARDIS had no sense anymore. He had given up the thought of travelling with him again. When River offered to teach him anyway his face lit up with a smile.

Eleven hid his past inside himself, so when the TARDIS redecorated he made sure not to have Gallifreyan anywhere visible. Amy learnt about it when River used it to contact the Doctor but she was more interested in the adventure so she never thought to ask. That's what Eleven loved about her. (Because Army didn't ask, neither did Rory.)

When they got trapped by the angels in Manhattan, Amy's way to cope with loosing the Doctor was listening to the stories her daughter told her. She started to get interested in the little things she hadn't been able to appreciate with the adrenaline of the moment, trying to hold on to anything that reminded her of that moment of her life. When River understood it, she taught Amy to read and write Gallifreyan. Soon, the Pond's house started filling with messages: reminders and recipes written in a language only Amy, Rory and their two children could understand and a letter from Amy for only her Raggedy Man to read once he was ready.

When Eleven met Clara he fell for her, every time. He redecorated the TARDIS for her to ask about Gallifreyan, ready to share that part of his life with her. Clara was like Amy, though, always invested in the adventure, slowly falling for the Doctor. But when he changed, she changed too. Twelve eventually accepted Clara was never going to ask, so he started to write in English in the blackboards of the TARDIS for her to understand what he wrote but still leaving the Gallifreyan in the console's decoration. He adapted to her but he quietly hopped she would do the same one day.

Clara was forced to learn Gallifreyan in order to fly the TARDIS. Me taught her. She had learnt it many years before from her old friend, the Face of Boe.

The first time River spoke Gallifreyan in front of the Doctor was during their night in Darillium. She called him anidiot. She had gotten used to insulting people in Gallifreyan and switching languages was an instinct. River saw the Doctor cry for the first time that day. She hugged him in the floor while the Doctor told her about his kids and his marvelous granddaughter, all in the language of his people. At that moment she had thought that she had reminded him of everyone he had lost when she spoke Gallifreyan. Now, however, she understands the Doctor was thinking about how he was going to lose the only person he had left with whom he could speak it.

When the Doctor let Missy into the TARDIS with Bill, she made a comment about him having the names of his companions as decoration in the console. It took the Doctor a second to realize that Missy understood Gallifreyan, he had been guarding the vault for years and he had never spoken to Missy in their native language.

"We don't speak Gallifreyan." The Doctor mentioned once they were alone in the vault.

"Always so observant, Doctor" Missy rolled her eyes.

The only time he spoke Gallifreyan with Missy was when he was trying to convince her and the Master to stay and fight with him against the cybermen. The next time they saw each other, O spoke in Gallifreyan ("I did say the spy... master."), Thirteen didn't give him the privilege of answering in Gallifreyan.

In the year 2023 a giant graffiti of circles appears in London. It says "You are not alone". Yaz wrote it. She doesn't know Gallifreyan but she asked Jack to translate that sentence after one of her Companions Meetings.

The Doctor knows about the graffiti but she doesn't know who wrote it. She doesn't know that almost all her companions know Gallifreyan. She thinks it's something from her future, not realizing she has already Inspired so many people, not realizing that her companions can sense how much Gallifreyan means to her. Not realizing that Gallifreyan is their love language.

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knockyasocksoff2022 · 5 months

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The One Day Return of Double Black

(A/N: I intitailly panned for this to be a relationship reveal but it turned out softer, as many of my writing has lately. I don't mind it though. Also this is my very first time ever writing in 3rd person so please forgive me if it sounds whack as hell. This fic isn't entirley isn't entirely in 3rd person, but I wanted to try out a new style of writing, so let me know if you like it.)

(4,846 words)

Third Person Perspective:

He walks with a purpose, angry that his partner left for work without him. Isn’t it much more efficient if they come in together? After all, they’re work partners so no one would ever suspect the rings resting under Chuuya's glove and Dazai’s shirt, on a chain that holds it suspended right over his heart.

The route to the headquarters is twisting turns through dark back streets, but Dazai remembers it with perfect clarity as if it were yesterday. To him, it was.

—

Even after all this time not much had changed. The Port Mafia still cower under the gaze of Dazai Osamu. If anything they’re more afraid now. And why shouldn’t they be, he is the only person in history to betray the mafia and walk away alive.

The guards are so scared they hardly pay attention to the way the Demon prodigy’s gaze isn’t as sharp as usual, eyes glazed over, or that his unbrushed hair sticks to his forehead with sweat.

Even if they were to notice, it would go uncommented on because that’s the privilege of being the Demon Prodigy.

So no one says anything when he walks through the lobby of the Mori Corporation, black dress shoes still shiny as the day they last set foot here, clicking evenly as he heads for the lift.

The guards will not radio about his presence to their superiors because they are cowards, too afraid of being punished for letting him in. They will not stop him either, too afraid of being punished if he is truly supposed to be here. They are too afraid of him. The torture master, who seems to have regained sight in his other eye. “How terrifying,” they think, “must he be with full sight instead of half.”

The torture master doesn’t stop to think that it’s strange that his old lift code still works, because right now he doesn’t remember just how old it is, the heat coursing through his body erasing the past four years of conflict.

He stares at his reflection. His suit is still pressed, not a wrinkle visible because it’s been untouched. To anyone else, the garment would have been long outgrown but years of only occasional meals of low-calorie food have allowed him to remain the same size and weight as when he was only a boy.

He does not think he is eighteen again, but maybe he wishes he was. For him, time has passed in a sort of mixed and matched fashion, a quilt of mind and muscle memories. His mind, for the movement at least, exists in a world where things are the same as they’ve always been. And when the lift door opens, he needs only to walk down the corridor, into the meeting room (his biometrics will still work) and his executive seat will be waiting for him (it is) just as it was yesterday. He has no idea that, while he would be welcome, his striding into that room would cause a commotion. To him, this is simply another day.

“Maybe I’ll blow off the meeting, and just bother Slug instead, he did leave without me after all.” The prodigy hums as he thinks to himself.

The lift opens to an empty corridor, the boy’s illusion is safe for now.

Chuuya comes first, before everything. He heads down the opposite end of the corridor, to give his lover a piece of his mind.

Chuuya’s Perspective

The weekly meeting was cancelled, and I hardly have any paperwork so I’d say this counts as a good morning. Maybe Mori-san will ask me to take Elise out for ice cream or something. I don’t mind her, when she’s away from him she’s really a nice kid. I won’t dwell too much on the fact that she’s been a kid the entire time I’ve known her, maybe her ability has something to do with shape-shifting.

(A/N: Chuuya likes to be with Elise because it makes him feel tall.)

The door slams open. It’s not the noise that makes me drop my pen, but the person standing in my doorway.

“Ne Chibi! You horrible ungrateful slug, you left me at home! Honestly, you’re so disrespectful. You made me late, I should report you to Mori-san, but I won't because I’m such a good partner, not like you.”

And suddenly . . .

He’s 16 again.

A teenager in demeanour but a man in physique, and I’d be lying by omission if I failed to mention how he looks in that suit. The whole situation takes my breath away, proof that love trumps logic when my first thoughts on his sudden appearance here are thirsty ones and not concern.

It makes me a bit sick to think that he’s still skinny enough to fit into something he wore when he was eighteen.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” That's what I want to say, but Dazai’s realm is logic, shifting the pieces from the background. Brute force won’t get me anywhere, it only makes him curl defensively into himself, like a porcupine.

“First of all, you’re the ungrateful one, you brat! You’re the one that sleeps until ungodly hours of the morning. I left you breakfast, did you want a note or something? I’m not your mother!”

He crosses his arms, stepping closer to my desk. I don’t stop him, “Breakfast was absolutely terrible, like everything else you cook, and you still left me—”

I want to laugh, we both know my cooking is exquisite, but there’s something more upsetting about what he said. “Wait, you didn’t drive here, did you?”

“How else was I supposed to get to work when you LEFT ME!” he emphasises the last two words, hopping up to sit on the edge of my desk. I sit on my hands so I don't end up shoving him out of the window.

“I can’t believe you! How many property damage fees do we owe now? Never mind, don't answer that. God! You’re giving me a headache already. And stop going on about how I left you, this isn’t bringing your fish to work day. Why are you even here at all? If you bothered to drive, why didn’t you go to work?”

“I did. I’m here, aren’t I? I could’ve ditched, but nooo, I came in just for you, hatrack.”

“You know you don’t work here anymore, dumbass.” It’s a joke, we both know it. This is just something Osamu would do, come back and act like everything is normal just to psych me out. I always swear not to let his antics phase me but something about him today is ‘off ’. It’s already driving me insane how I can’t put my finger on it.

“Yes I do, I always have, does Chibi have amnesia or did he just finally run out of memory storage in that small brain of his?” He tugs on my hat and I reach out to punch him but he sinks down before I can.

“My brain is just the same size as yours. You don’t work here, and if you think you do then you’re the one with mental problems, not me!”

“Ah, my dog is so mean to me! Bad dog! Bad dog!”

“I’m not your fucking dog you sleazy bastard.”

“Big words coming from a chibikko hatrack.” He remarks, shrugging casually.

These words finally make me pause. As much as we still love sniping at each other, many of these nicknames are hardly ever used anymore, ones we save for times when we both need the nostalgia. Hatrack. I haven’t heard that one in forever, and despite the jeering nature, it sends a flood of warmth through me.

Is that what he’s here for? The nostalgia of it all? Is this what he wants?

I scrutinise his face for any trace of his motives, taking in every detail. He’s a glorious enigma. His jet-black hair is matted, a snarl that still manages to look fluffy. There’s something stiff about the way it frames his face as if stuck on by glue.

His eyes are bright, a different kind of bright than when he usually teases me, or the soft aura they get when it’s just us alone at home. Normally when he teases me his irises maintain that darkness, almost black, eating all light that enters them, but now they almost appear chocolate brown, reflecting the light. Glossy, sparkling with a shine like the surface of the ocean under the summer sun. It’s disconcerting, wrong, like when he smiles just a little too wide. I don’t dislike it, but I know it isn’t right.

He hasn’t shaved in a while and there’s stubble forming around his jaw, the dark contrasting with his pale features, too pale, the barely visible bags of his eyes making his eyes look far too big.

If nostalgia is what he wants then I’d be happy to give it to him, but I don’t think it is. This is something beyond either of our control.

Shit.

Great, this is just great! What am I gonna do with him now?

“Is Chibi going to apologise to me, or will he be sleeping on the sofa tonight?”

I step closer. I know what’s wrong, but I’ll need to touch him to be sure.

We’re so close now that I can feel the heat radiating off him, his coat certainly isn’t helping. I run at a higher temperature because of Arahabaki, so if I can feel it, it’s bad. He needs a doctor fast, but he’s so stubborn . . . how can I make him come willingly?

“I’m sorry I left you, Osa. You just looked so peaceful sleeping, I couldn’t wake you.” I whisper the words, standing on my tip-toes, leaning forward, closing the small gap between us.

It’s true, with his insomnia being how it is a full night's sleep is rare and when he does get it I let him sleep for as long as he possibly can. I think his colleagues think he sleeps late but most of the time he’s laying in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to get up or trying another method of suicide he found on some sketchy webpage with r-rated pop-up ads.

When my lips meet his I gasp, he tries to deepen the kiss and put his tongue in my mouth. I don’t let him. He responds by pulling the long piece of my hair. I pull away, still grasping his shoulders. I’d been expecting warmth but not like this. Holding him is like holding a flame, his skin feeling like he’s been outside for hours in the summer heat.

“Fuck! Shit! Dammit, Osa! You’re burning up.”

He just laughs, “So Chibi does think I’m hot, I knew it!” he grins in triumph, of course, he would be laughing with a temperature like this, “You earned your way back to the bed–”

“Actually, I will be sleeping on the sofa, I have no intention of catching whatever you have. We need to get you to the infirmary, Mori-san will have something for you.”

I grab his hand and pull him out the door. I should be worried about people seeing him, but they won’t hurt him. And should they try I won’t let them. I hold Osamu’s burning hand all the way to the lift. How he’s still even functioning, much less standing with a fever like this makes me think he really isn’t human.

The infirmary is only one floor below us, just below the training room, but the training room takes up the space of three floors and the lift isn’t going nearly fast enough for my liking, so I use my ability to drop it.

I thank god for Osamu’s awareness and that he doesn’t cling to me for support and risk cancelling my ability.

When we reach the right floor I release the lift from For The Tainted Sorrow, it clunks loudly to a stop.

The infirmary takes up this entire floor, you might think we’d need multiple floors for enough space, and we do, but this is the so-named special infirmary. (Some of us call it the Meat Locker, behind Mori-san’s back because it’s always so cold.) Mori-san works here when he’s not busy planning strategy. This facility is for the top mafia operatives and is thus equipped to handle ability users and ability-related injuries. The grunts and foot soldiers use the larger infirmary lower in the building.

I set Osamu on the nearest bed and go to find a nurse. The nurses must be in between shifts, but I find Elise. She’s wearing a small nurse’s uniform, hat and all. When I was first told she worked in here I was extremely sceptical but her medical knowledge is as vast as Mori-san and she’s never made a mistake in treating a wound. (This backs up my theory that she’s not actually a child, but an adult who likes to shapeshift into child form, for whatever reason.)

(A/N: HC that Elise possesses all the same basic skills that Mori-san has, like she can do surgery and she could drive but it’s a bit hard for her to reach the pedals and see over the dash. Also in this fic, Chuuya doesn't know Elise is Mori-san’s ability.)

Elise greets me, “You’re here with Osamu aren’t you?”

“How-”

“It’s the look on your face, only he can bring that worry and desperation out in you. What’s happened to him, another attempt?”

“No, he has a fever.”

Elise glares and rolls her eyes, “A fever, seriously!”

“Come on, Elise, you know I wouldn’t have brought him here if it wasn’t bad, and it’s bad.”

“True. Does he have any other symptoms?”

“No, but he’s delirious, he thinks he still works here.”

“Oh, I’m sure Rintarou loves that.” Her dry humour at the expense of Mori-san always amuses me, but I don't laugh now.

“He doesn’t know yet.”

“Are you hiding Osamu?”

“No, he just marched in here as far as I can tell, but I didn’t get a chance to tell Mori-san yet. I figured I’d do it when he’s not dying.”

Elise shrugs, “Fair.”

We’re at Osamu’s bed now, and I can see what he so easily hides from everyone else. He’s starting to wear, the fever finally taking its toll, still, he looks much better than he should and it creeps me out a bit.

Elise feels his forehead, but unlike me, maintains her composure simply nodding and pulling out a thermometer. He doesn’t let Elise stick the thermometer in his ear, so I do it, while she disappears into the medication store room.

After too long, the device beeps.

39.4℃

How is he even . . .? Right, he’s Dazai, of course, he’s fine. The damn cockroach!

Elise is back, pushing a cart with a glass pitcher, a stack of fabric, and medication, which Osamu takes only after I give him a stern look.

Elise takes a stack of fabric, white clothes, and lays them on the bed.

“Fevers like this are dangerous, he’ll need to stay hydrated.” She sets the pitcher on the table beside the bed, “This is mineral water, make sure he drinks all of it, and when it’s empty fill it up again, they’re bottles in the fridge in the store room. If he starts showing any more symptoms let me know, but unless something changes, he should be okay to go home tonight.”

I nod, dumping my coat and hat into the bed next to us, and pouring some water into the glass cup, holding it carefully out to my husband. He doesn’t take it.

“You can get changed first, but then you have to drink water, okay.”

He nods.

I hand him the stack of clothes and pull the curtain around the bed.

When he doesn’t stand I begin pulling off his trench coat. He sits up a bit, allowing me to remove the heavy garment, then flops back down, I sigh and let my finger trace his collarbone while I untie his tie, he leans into the contact, more alert now. I ignore how my warm touch feeling cool to him isn’t a good thing in favour of unbuttoning his shirt.

Now all that’s left are his bandages.

They’re stuck to his skin with sweat but eventually, I peel them all off, his pale fevered skin glowing sickly under the fluorescent lights.

A cool shower or bath would be ideal but I settle for wetting a towel under the sink and patting him down gently with it. He leans into my touch and for just a second I think he’s fallen asleep but then his eyes blink open so fast it makes me jump a little. Swatting his bare arm, I help him put on the soft white pants and a loose white t-shirt.

He still doesn’t touch his water.

I hold it out to him, “You gotta drink, Osa, having a fever like this isn’t good for you, we need to get it down. Then we can go home and watch whatever shitty movies you like.”

He shakes his head.

“Osamu!”

He’s staring at me like he's drinking in every aspect of my being like I did for him in my office.

“I like it when Chuuya is my partner.” He finally says.

“I’ll always be your partner, you silly fish. Forever remember, we promised.” I take off my glove, showing him the ring, a shining metal thing. Two bands of stainless steel with azure sapphires running a line in between them.

Osamu takes out his own ring, two iron bands, with blood-red rubies in between, and rolls it in his palms, not saying anything.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean it like this.” He gestures to the infirmary around us but I still don’t understand.

“I like being Chuuya’s work partner,” he explains, looking more alert now, the medication must be working. “I like it, knowing that everything is still the same, being here and knowing I belong.”

Oh. “You’ll always belong here.”

“Maybe so, but I could never ignore Oda’s last wish like that. I’m already remembering, and I know that once I stop having a temperature everything will go back to normal. But I want . . . I want to stay here with you, hatrack, in this time capsule, just a bit longer.”

Softness and tender love may be what he needs, but it’s not what he wants. Well, then I’ll play along. I don’t mind at all. If he wants to be sixteen again, who am I to deny him that? I’ll love and care for him in the same burning way I did back then.

I sigh, sitting up straighter, leaning away from him, removing any trace of softness from my voice and getting into character. “Hmph! Of course, a mackerel like you would want to stay here longer! I thought you hated pain. And, don’t give me those eyes, I’m not gonna do your paperwork for you.”

He smiles that goofy smile, understanding what I’m doing, not at all offended by my harsh tone.

“Ah, but dogs are supposed to be loyal, and I’m sooo dreadfully ill!” He flops back dramatically

The next line comes easily, “I am not your damn dog!”

We fall back into the teenage banter embarrassingly easily as he goes on about how his greater height makes him the master. It feels like only yesterday that I was in the arcade, choosing to follow him instead of Shirase and Yuan, as I shove a cup of the mineral water towards him, splashing his face. 16-year-old me wouldn’t have reached for a towel to dry his face, so I don’t either. It’s probably okay since he still has a fever.

“Just shut up and drink, you mummified fish!”

He dips his finger in the cup and flicks water at me.

“Dammit, shitty Dazai! Drink it and drown for all I care.”

He takes a slow sip, then another, downing the cup in seconds, his following of my command the only thing shattering the illusion. It makes me laugh how I still call him Dazai when I tease him, even though he hasn’t had that surname in years. I think he’ll always be Dazai, on some level.

The day passes surprisingly quickly. With the help of the medication, cool clothes and water, Osamu’s temperature steadily returns to normal.

I tell him about the upcoming mission Mori-san has for ‘us’ and we complain about it. I hear Elise’s chime-like laughter from the store room. Even with his head foggy he offers strategies that make me wish he would still sit at the executive table.

I complain to him about how Mori-san is probably going to make me do paperwork on this incident, and he replies that it’s my own fault because I shouldn’t have left without him, and could have just left him in my office. “But you didn’t, because Chibikko cares about me~~~” he sing-songs.

“In your fucking dreams maybe!” The denial sounds so false on my lips that we both burst out laughing. His eyes are clear again, the haze of fever gone, he doesn't think he’s my work partner anymore, but neither of us stops the banter.

After a while though, the sun begins to slip lower and lower in the sky. I take Osamu’s temperature, it’s normal. The pretending is officially over.

“You're all better, Osa. As soon as Elise clears you, we can go home.” I let the softness return to my voice.

I expected him to be disappointed, but he smiles softly, tucking his hair behind his ear in that pretty way he does. Sometimes we both yearn for the nostalgia of simpler times, but we both know that what we have now, between us and only us, is a million times better.

I’ll miss this, but I won’t miss the old port mafia dorm or Osamu’s shipping container. I won’t miss when we didn’t have our own home, the place that is ours. A place we don’t have to hide. I won’t miss the time before I wore a metal ring under my glove.

I do miss our large king bed, open plan kitchen, luxurious sofa, and our spacious shower.

My stomach rumbles, “God, I’m fucking starving.”

Osamu pats his own stomach, and we remember neither of us had lunch. For some reason, it seems like the funniest thing. We can’t stop laughing for a full minute.

I sigh, catching my breath. “Do you feel well enough to eat? We have leftovers in the fridge, or I can make okayu.”

“Hmm, I know it’s late, but I’m restless from lying down all day, we should go out somewhere?”

I give him a once over. He looks fine. “Yeah, sure. How about that old ramen and sushi place, you know, near–”

“The arcade, yeah.” he finishes my sentence.

“I’ll go get Elise.” Before I can get up there's the sound of even steps on the tile floor.

“Chuuya-san, Dazai-kun, I’ve been meaning to come check on you two.” Mori’s voice and silhouette are familiar, even in the dark infirmary.

“Mori-san.” I nod to my boss. If he’s surprised to see Osamu here he doesn't show it.

“Oh, you can drop the formalities for now, and don’t worry, I’m not here about your paperwork, I gave you the day off as soon as Elise informed me of the situation. Thank you for visiting our fine establishment today, Dazai-kun, I’m glad you’re back to full health. Please know you’re welcome back anytime you like.”

With that, he walks off. Most of the time I laugh when Mori asks Osamu to come back. He won’t force him back and even then Osamu would find a way not to come if he didn’t want to. After today though, I find myself wishing Osamu would accept. We were such a good team, and we still are. But I respect his wanting to stay in the light for Oda, and I can be more than content with having him be mine all mine outside of work.

Elise feels Osamu’s forehead, taking his temperature one last time, and declares him cleared.

I smile as she leaves, we both do.

He looks at his clothes scattered on the floor.

“Those are all sweaty, you shouldn’t wear them. And no bandages either, you can put them back on at home, after you’ve had a shower.”

He gives me puppy eyes, “Fine. Would a dog lend his master some of his clothes?”

“Fuck no!”

“Ugh, not the ones you’re wearing . . . though I would like to see you naked.”

I smack him lightly on his head.

He shrugs, “Can’t I be honest with my husband? But only I get to see Chibi naked, you can keep your clothes. I know you keep spare stuff in your office in case you have to work overnight.”

I roll my eyes and pull him up, grabbing his clothes and my own coat and hat.

He looks at home in my office, lounging on the sofa looking as if he never left, as if I woke up and came back in here realising that his betrayal was merely a dream.

But I know he never left me, not really.

The clothes I keep in my drawer are for all sorts of emergencies.

A copy of my usual work outfit in case it gets bloody or something.

Pyjamas if I have to sleep here

A formal suit for the dinners we executives have to attend with Port mafia associates.

Some old casual clothes if I have a stake-out mission

And a nice but not fancy outfit for when I have a date with Osamu and I’m not able to stop at home to get ready first.

I take pieces from each of the last three outfits for Osamu, already laughing as I picture how short the sleeves and trousers will be on him. It’s his fault that his arms and legs are so ridiculously long.

I hand him the clothes and he seems to be thinking the same thing (we often are). His face morphs into a look of teasing disgust. “Ewwww! I have to wear Chuuya’s tacky clothes.”

But he gives no protest as I help him undress. Thankfully the suit is new enough that I hadn't hemmed the slacks yet, and because he’s so skinny the waistband shouldn’t be a problem.

Taking inspiration I decided to go for something more casual myself.

The outfit is mismatched but when I stand back it all somehow fits. Frustratingly, he’s managing to pull off the white tee shirt, black slacks, and red hoodie.

I wear a black tee shirt, an old worn pair of jeans and a blue Yokohama Tigers bomber jacket.

He laughs, holding me just off the ground, “We match.”

“Yeah, Now let me go, I’m hungry!”

I stuff our clothes in a paper bag I have left over from my last trip to the wine shop and we’re off.

I’d almost forgotten about it but the weight that comes off my shoulders when I see that Osamu’s car is miraculously unscathed is immense.

I drive this time, while Osamu stretches himself out in the backseat, singing loudly along to the music on the radio.

The sleek car will stick out on this side of town so I park in an alleyway.

“You good to walk the rest of the way?”

“Yup.”

People stare at us as we walk. I don’t blame them, I’m sure I look like some kind of punk high schooler and then there's Osamu with his dress trousers and shoes with a hoodie.

It makes me feel fifteen again, people used to stare at us then too.

The ramen joint is run by a small gang, but they don’t interfere with us so we leave them alone. The owner still shakes in fear when we enter, wondering what business I could have with him.

“We’re just here for the food,” I say, not paying him a glance as I take two menus from the counter. He sighs in relief.

The food takes a bit longer than usual, but I swear it’s twice as delicious. I think they must still be worried about my business here.

Osamu and I eat wordlessly, the food is too good to be uninterrupted by any conversation. When we’re together we don’t need words anyway, and when we’re done we both stare out the window. We can see the bright lights of the arcade from here, one of the only and brightest lights around, a beacon in the night.

Osamu looks at me, I look at him. There’s a certain glimmer in his eyes, the one I used to crave like it was life itself before I knew he returned my feelings. I can see the shine in my own eyes reflected in his.

I take a wad of cash out of my wallet and drop it on the table, the waitress looks at us with wide eyes as we leave. I say nothing but Osamu waves goodbye to the owner like a little kid, the gleam in his eyes only intensifying.

The sun has completely disappeared from sight now, and we should go home and go to bed like responsible adults, especially after the day Osamu’s had. But it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last so what’s a little disregard for personal health for old-time’s sake?

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