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spiderceo · 2 months

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− ⌗ vaudeville vows pt.2 ⊹.∿

summary; alastor shows up to ruin your evening in his own fun little way.

tags; gender-neutral reader, reader can play piano and sing, reader gets used to alastor surprisingly fast and he (definitely) doesn’t like that, sugary sweet manipulation, scopophobia (fear of being watched or stared at), alastor’s stupid mangled body

word count; 2.2k

pairing; alastor x reader

a/n; i plan to make chapters longer in the future so hopefully you enjoy that kind of thing. i also have proof-read this. as usual, reposts are greatly appreciated <3

tag list; @chewbrry @zatrinaxxx

master post | part one

Days passed since your first encounter with Alastor. He hadn’t shown his face again in your apartment which you were extremely happy for. But even though he wasn’t there physically, there was always this awful feeling of being watched no matter where you went. It was that bad that you struggled to even go for a shower or get changed for work in the mornings.

The whole while this was happening, you couldn’t shake the idea of the demon’s proposal. The allure of fame and fortune continued to tug at your thoughts every time you passed by your piano. The instrument now served as a reminder of what you could have had. Having someone like Alastor to guide you to your full potential would mean you could have so many great things. It was a tantalising dream that seemed just out of reach.

The days turned into weeks and still you remained steadfast in your decision against accepting the deal. Life had gone back to normal and the staring had reduced in its intensity. Whenever you got home from work, you managed to sit down at your piano and get some practice in. Part of you wanted to prove you didn’t need to make a deal with a demon to achieve what you wanted.

However, fate works in mysterious ways and we don’t always get what we want.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, you found yourself lost in your music once more. The melody flowed smoothly from your fingertips, weaving a tapestry of sound that filled the room with warmth and light. You sung along quietly with a content smile on your face. This had been your calmest night by far, until an awful feeling washed over you.

A chill ran down your spine as you looked around the room. The sensation of hundreds of little eyes watching you made your skin crawl as the temperature dropped. The lights in your apartment dimmed and flickered and your hands shakily slid away from the piano keys. Your eyes landed on a dark corner of the room where a lanky shadow stood. Eyes with a familiar shade of carmine pierced your soul and you couldn’t help but keep your body completely still.

He hadn’t moved from his spot, just tilted his head as if to tell you to continue what you were doing. If he hadn’t been a scary looking creature that wanted your soul, you probably would have found this gesture cute. Alastor’s eyes carried a look of amusement in them as he waited for you to do something.

Should you continue playing? Is that what he wanted?

You carefully turned your back to him and felt your hands tremble as they went back to their positions on the piano. With uncertainty, you pressed the keys and began to play a different song from before. This one was a bit more well known despite it’s age, and had also featured a lot in your grandad’s record collection.

‘Anything Goes’ by Cole Porter.

The beginning of the tune rung out and was immediately halted by Alastor’s presence reappearing on your left. “My dear musician,” he addressed you as if you were old friends, his voice exaggerated as always. “Your playing is splendid, but I feel that something is missing.”

You tensed at his words, unsure of what he meant. Before you could respond, Alastor took a step forward with his wicked grin becoming slightly smaller — he looked less like he was straining. This was how his expression usually sat, you guessed. But smiling constantly must be painful, right? Perhaps demons didn’t feel that type of pain.

“Why don’t you sing with me, my dear?” his gaze never left yours as you could feel your heart ready to beat out of your chest. A mix of excitement and trepidation coursed through your veins at the thought of singing with Alastor. Sharing a duet with a devil wasn’t something you got to do everyday. “Sing with you?” you queried, not quite sure if he was joking or not behind that talk-show voice of his. The idea of the duet was both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. Sharing the stage with a demonic being was definitely something you could tell the grandkids one day.

“Why, of course! I wouldn’t pass up the chance to perform with a talent such as yourself, now would I?” Alastor sure knew how to sweet talk his way into getting what he wanted. You glanced at the piano, its keys beckoning you to return your hands to them. You knew you couldn’t resist this time, and decided it wouldn’t hurt to entertain Alastor just this once.

With a weary smile, you began to play once more, letting the melody of the song flow with effortless grace. And as you finished the intro, your voice began to accompany your playing. It was trembling, unlike when you were alone. Alastor’s overbearing presence was making it hard to focus on the words. It wasn’t until radio crackles filled the room and more instruments joined in. Along with them came the demon’s familiar accented voice.

Your singing quietened as you listened to the creature sing. His voice was pleasing to the ear and with the added effect of a vintage radio, it reminded you of home — listening to your grandad’s records play as you ran around his garden and he sat in his rocking chair on the porch. The pleasant memories brought a bigger smile to your face as you forgot all about the fact that who you were singing with was trying to capture your soul.

For a moment, you and Alastor were united in a devil’s duet. Your singing was more confident as the demon leaned against your piano casually. Even when he sung, his toothy smile never ceased. And as the music eventually faded back to static, you met his gaze that was just as oppressive as it had always been. A glimmer of approval appeared in them as he moved to pace behind you. You turned to watch him as his boots clicked against the floor and he twirled a cane behind his back.

“Marvellous, my dear! Simply marvellous!” he praised, coming to a stop and stretching his arms out wide with great exaggeration (You hadn’t noticed just how lanky his limbs were until now). His tone was dripping with satisfaction and you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pride at the fact you had impressed him. Your subconscious was whispering to you that maybe taking his deal wouldn’t be so bad if these were the emotions you got out of it. It had been so long since you showed your music to anyone and his reaction was slowly pulling you towards his clutches.

As you pondered your next move, Alastor’s stare was unwavering. He had moved into a more relaxed position with his arms back behind him, still holding that cane of his. The demon’s presence was a reminder of the choice that lay before you. No matter what choice you made, there was always the certainty that Alastor would continue to be a pest in your life. If you refused his deal then there was nothing stopping him from sticking around until you finally caved or he came up with another proposition.

Exhaustion hit you like a brick wall when your eyes caught sight of the clock on the wall. It was almost two in the morning and you had work later in the day. You groaned and made a move to get up. “Leaving so soon?” the demon didn’t sound the least bit concerned about where you were going. His tone hinted at a secret plan to simply annoy you.

“The night is still young and I’d like another song.” Alastor requested, switching places with you. He now sat at your piano while you stood glaring at him through half-lidded eyes. “I need to get ready for bed,” you sighed, desperately trying to find words as to not offend him. Having an angry demon on your hands sounded worse than giving away your soul at the moment. “I have an early start tomorrow.” you tried to justify yourself.

Instead of a response, Alastor simply slipped away into shadows. You stared confused at the spot where he once sat. That was odd…not a single goodbye or comment. You tried not to linger on it too much and left to do your nightly routine.

The fluorescent light in your bathroom made a light buzzing sound as you turned it on. The tiles were cold on your feet as you shuffled in and grabbed your toothbrush. You knew you were alone now but that all familiar feeling of being watched remained persistent. Glancing nervously in the mirror, you half-expected to see Alastor’s sinister grin staring back at you. All that appeared, however, was your own tired visage which donned bags under its eyes.

After you finished, you left the bathroom and immediately went to change. You grabbed the first set of pyjamas out your drawers and slipped into them with haste. Crawling into bed, you made yourself comfortable and turned out the lamp on your side table. You tried to ignore the creaks of the floorboards and the uncharacteristic cold in the room but it was bothering you too much.

“Still awake there?” came Alastor’s voice from somewhere in the room. You rolled face first into one of your pillows sleepily. You knew he hadn’t left altogether. “Go away, Alastor,” your voice was muffled by fabric as you willed it not to shake. He still made you uneasy but you could manage it as long as you didn’t look him in the eye. “I just want to sleep.” you squeezed your eyes shut tighter and mentally hoped he would take the hint and go.

But Alastor was tenacious, his laughter that filled the room was accompanied by a faint laugh track. “But where’s the fun in that?” he teased, his voice coming from multiple directions at once. “Surely you wouldn’t deny me the pleasure of your company?”

You grit your teeth. Trying to ignore him was almost impossible as his voice bounced off the walls of your room. You tried to block out the sound with your pillow but even that did nothing to muffle it. No matter how hard you tried, sleep remained elusive as your new pest continued to ask you numerous questions purely for his own entertainment.

His insidious whispers penetrated your mind, you could feel them twisting and coiling like serpents, their venomous words seeping into every crevice of your consciousness. With a surge of frustration and fear, you bolted upright, your gaze fixating on the ghastly figure perched at the foot of your bed.

His form was twisted and contorted, limbs elongated and skeletal, like some grotesque parody of the human form. Antlers sprouted from his skull, their jagged points piercing through the walls and ceiling of your room. The glow of his eyes illuminated the darkness, casting an unearthly green hue that seemed to dance with malevolent intent as radio dials ticked within them.

But it was his grin that sent a shiver down your spine, a macabre smile stitched together with glowing green threads that threatened to unravel at any moment. Each stitch seemed to pulse with a sickly light, as if straining against the weight of the demon’s own malevolence.

You narrowed your eyes, your resolve hardening in the face of his unsettling presence. You craved sleep more than anything and if it meant scolding a demon to get it, then so be it. Despite the fear gnawing at the edges of your mind, you refused to cower before this twisted abomination. Your voice was filled with steely determination as you met his gaze and spoke.

“Leave me alone, Alastor.” you commanded, your tone ringing with defiance. The dead serious expression on your face was almost laughable. For a moment, Alastor’s smile faltered and his form shrunk down. A low chuckle crackled from his chest as he disappeared into the darkness, leaving your alone with only the memory of what you saw.

Now that he was gone, you let out the gasping breath you didn’t realise you were holding in. You tried to steady your racing heart as you placed a hand to your chest. With trembling hands, you reached for the lamp on your bedside table, casting a warm glow across the room that banished the shadows to the corners. But even in the soft light, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that clung to the air like a suffocating fog.

As you lay back against the pillows, exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, you couldn’t help but wonder: Was this only a temporary reprieve? The idea left a nagging sense of dread that picked away at your conscious. If he was like this now, you hated to see what he would pull later on. A demon like him was hound to have more tricks up his sleeve than just shapeshifting.

You were baffled that he even listened to you. Something told you that he was limited to what he could and couldn’t do without a contract between you both. You knew he could probably cause you physical harm given the way he could interact with your environment. So maybe it wasn’t what he could do to you, but rather how much time he had with you. You pushed the thoughts aside for the night and pulled yourself back under the covers.

Lingering fear aside, sleep eventually claimed you, dragging you down into the depths of unconsciousness where dreams and nightmares intertwined in a tangled web of darkness.

#hazbin alastor #reader insert #gender neutral reader #x reader #hazbin hotel #gender neutral insert #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #vaudeville vows

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 8 months

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All I Want Is You (Jey Uso x Ex-Girlfriend!)

Part 1

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

Janelle is played by Justine Skye

Taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci24 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @melaninsugababy @baconeggndcheez @bemybabiibish

I USED THE SAME TAGS FROM 'YOU'RE THE ONLY GIRL FOR ME' LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE UNTAGGED FROM THIS.

PART 2

Friday August 4th

Josh walked into the arena holding hands with his 4 year old son. He had a camera crew following him for some type of vlog that was being shown on the WWE’s Youtube channel. The camera crew was filming him walking past a trailer that had Joe’s face on it. He said some snarky remark about looking better than Joe when his son tugged on his hand.

“Dad, look.” His son said. Josh looked to where his son was pointing and felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t know she was going to be there. He knew he would probably see her at SummerSlam since it was an event for both shows but he wasn’t mentally prepared to see her tonight. “Can I go say Hi?” His son asked using his best puppy dog eyes. Josh nodded and let go of his hand.

Janelle was talking to Michael Cole when she felt someone wrapping their tiny arms around her legs.

“Hi J!” He smiled up at her, his two front teeth missing. She smiled and bent down to pick him up.

“Hey bud. How you been?” She asked, melting a little when he wrapped his arms around her neck.

“Good. I missed you.” He said still not letting go of her neck.

“I missed you too bud.” Josh felt his palms sweat when he got closer to Janelle, he prayed that he didn’t say anything stupid with the cameras on him. She arched her eyebrow at him when she noticed the camera crew but didn’t say anything about it..

“Come on. Let's go get some food.” He said to his son trying to pry him off of Janelle. With them and the camera crew laughing when his son just wrapped his arms and legs around Janelle tighter.

“No dad, I wanna stay with Nelle.” His son said, turning around and pouting at his dad.

“You guys know each other?” The cameraman asked, causing Josh to stutter before Janelle rolled her eyes and answered for him.

“We used to date.” She said

“Used too?” The cameraman laughed when Josh and Janelle turned their faces up at him. “My bad just asking.”

“Yeah used too, Mr. Nosey.” She said, rolling her eyes. Her expression softened when she brought her attention back to Josh’s son. “You don’t wanna go eat with daddy?” She asked, making Josh suck in a breath that hopefully the camera’s didn’t pick up. He loved when she called him that. When Xavier shook his head no Janelle turned her attention to Josh who was already looking at her. “He can stay with me until he’s ready to go with you.”

Josh nodded his head. “My cousin was going to sit at Ringside with him during the show, I'll let you know when she gets here.” Janelle nodded and walked off with Xavier leaving Josh with the camera crew. “Yall not gonna cut that out huh?” He asked, seeing the smirk on the cameraman's face.

“Why do you have my nephew?” Joe Anoa’i asked as he walked down the hallway seeing Janelle with Xavier.

“Because he likes me better than his dad.” Letting out a laugh when Xavier nodded his head in agreement. Joe took Xavier from Janelle.

“You actually talked to Josh?” He asked his eyes widening when she nodded her head. “It wasn’t awkward?”

“No gossip girl. I think we’re both over the break up.” Arching an eyebrow when Joe just gave her a ‘yeah okay’ look. “What's with the look?” She asked, taking Xavier back when he reached for her.

“I mean,” He paused and shrugged. “Y’alls breakup tore up a friend group.” Holding his hands up in defense when Janelle narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m just saying we all used to hang out then yall broke up and I hardly see you or Tati anymore.” Janelle rolled her eyes.

“Well, Tatianna is pregnant, so she’s not on the road anymore and I’m on Raw now.”

“Yeah well you would still be on Smackdown if you didn’t ask to get traded.” Janelle rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t ask to be traded”

“That’s not what I heard.” Janelle narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t understand where people were getting the rumor of her asking to be drafted over to RAW was coming from, but it was pissing her off.

“I’m going to walk away now.” She said, turning her back to him and walking away, not giving him a chance to respond.

“Damn I aint know Janelle was back on Smackdown.” Joe said as he sat down next to Josh in catering. Josh looked over at him.

“Tell me about it, X traded on me as soon as he saw her.” He said picking up his fork to continue eating.

“So how did it feel to see her again?” Joe asked.

“Damn Uce, what you a reporter now?” Joe laughed.

“Nah, I'm just wondering, I know things ended badly between y’all.” Josh nodded his head and swallowed his food before answering.

“Yeah, but I think we’re both over it. It was months ago.” Josh looked at his phone when it beeped with a notification. It was Janelle telling him that Xavier had fallen asleep and she needed somewhen quiet to put him. He told her to meet him at catering so he could take Xavier back to his dressing room.

“I’ll see you later Uce.” Josh said, standing up, throwing his trash away and walking out of catering to wait for Janelle.

“Hey.” Josh turned and smiled at her, taking Xavier’s sleeping body from her.

“Thank you,” He said to her. “For taking Xavier when he wanted to go with you. You didn’t have to take him.” He finished when she arched her eyebrow at him.

“It was no problem.” She said rocking on her heels, when they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. “I’m gonna..” She started pointing behind her.

“He nodded his head. “It was nice to see you Janelle.”

“You too Josh, good luck tonight and tomorrow.” She said before turning around and walking away.

Janelle didn’t see Xavier or Josh for the rest of the show. After meeting with Paul and confirming that she was definitely moving back to the blue brand. She headed to the parking lot stopping when she heard Xavier throwing a tantrum.

“No!.” The 4-year old yelled out. “I wanna go see Nelle.” Josh looked around desperately.

“ I don’t think she’s here anymore X. Come on we can get McDonald’s” Xavier wasn’t trying to hear that though. He started crying and kicking his legs harder. Janelle walked over to them.

“Xavier. What’s wrong?” Xavier broke free from Josh’s grip and ran over to Janelle.

“I wanna stay with you.” He cried into her leg. Janelle felt her heart break, she didn’t know that her and Josh’s breakup had this type of effect on Xavier. Josh crouched down so he was eye level with Xavier.

“Xav, come on we talked about this daddy and Nelle don’t share a room anymore.” Him saying that only caused Xavier to cry harder. He looked up her.

“Help me.” He mouthed to her. She cleared her throat and pried Xavier off of her legs and picked him up.

“Okay. How about your daddy go and get the food and me and you can go back to the hotel and watch movies. I’ll stay until you go to sleep.”

“Promise.” He asked, pouting at her. She nodded.

“I promise..” She looked back at Josh. “You wanna take my rental and I’ll take yours?” He nodded and gave her the keys and his keycard.

“Room 3310, Jon is there.” Janelle groaned and nodded her head putting Xavier into the car seat. “Whatchu want to eat?” He asked her, holding the driver's door open for her. She shrugged.

“You know what I like.” She said before shutting the door and starting the car.” She looked in the rear view mirror at Xavier who was smiling at her and she could help but smile back. Starting the car with a sigh, she started driving to the hotel

Xavier talked her head off the whole journey up to the hotel room. Janelle didn’t mind though. She missed being around him. They finally made it to the room, opening the door Janelle let out a surprised shriek when she saw Jon standing in his underwear.

“Ayo, whatchu doin?!” He yelled as he ran into his room. She laughed and placed Xavier on the couch, crouching down to take off his shoes.

“Do your boxers have frogs on them?” She said laughing when he came out of the room and threw a pillow at her.

“Shut up, my mom gave them to me.” That caused Janelle to laugh even harder. “Why are you here?” He said walking over to his nephew and giving him a pound.

“Me and Xavi having a movie night.” She said untying the laces on her heels and slipping them off her feet. Jon arched an eyebrow and her.

“Just you and X?” He looked over to his nephew who was cuddled up against Janelle. Normally he would be ripping and running around the whole hotel room, tearing shit up. But now he looked so content with just being close to Janelle.

“No Josh too.” He looked over at her. “What? We broke up months ago. I’m over it, I'm pretty sure he’s over it and I’m doing it for Xavier. He had a whole tantrum at the arena.”

“You might be over it, but I know my brother, he aint over it.” Janelle ignored his statement and turned her attention to the cartoon that Xavier was watching.

Josh didn’t immediately pull off from the arena. He sat in the car for a bit. “What the fuck.” He muttered, scrubbing his hand over his face. He 100% wasn’t over their break up. He wasn’t even sure why they broke up. He came home one day to all her stuff packed and placed by the front door, the house keys and car keys on the kitchen counter. He couldn’t even think of reasons why they broke up, they were happy or at least he thought they were happy.

Josh pulled off, driving to the nearest McDonalds, his thoughts shifting to the ring box in his closet.

The sound of someone knocking on the door paused Janelle, Jon and Xavier’s game of hide-and-seek.

“That must be Josh. I have his keycard.” She said walking over and opening the door. She took the drink out of his hand and set them down at the kitchen table. Jon walked over to the bags looking in them. Scoffing when he only sees two meals and a happy meal.

“Man, you knew I was here.” He grumbled going over to the hotel’s restaurant menu and looking at it. “I'm hungry too.” Josh ignored him though. His eyes on Janelle as he watched her help Xavier sit at the table.

“What?” She asked when she turned around and noticed him still standing there, staring at her. He shook his head and mumbled ‘nothing’ before grabbing his food out of the bag and going to sit on the couch with his brother. He looked over at Janelle when she cleared her throat. She nodded her head over to the empty chair next to Xavier.

“What are you doing?” She asked. He sighed and got up from the couch and made his way over to the table. Giving her a look when she started laughing.

Jon watched them with a small smile on his face, hoping that they could talk out their problems and get back together. They were good for each other. He got up and walked into his room, giving them privacy.

After they ate, they went into Josh and Xaviers shared room. Janelle stood awkwardly by the door as Josh helped Xavier into his pajamas.

Josh went into the bathroom to change, leaving Janelle and Xavier.

“Can I sit in the middle of you and daddy?” He asked, already climbing into the bed.

“Of course,” she smiled at him, walking towards the bed, wishing she had a change of clothes. She climbed into the bed next to him, tucking her legs so that her underwear wasn’t showing.

“So what are we watching?” Josh asked as he came back into the room, dressed in some basketball shorts and a t-shirt. Janelle looked down and Xavier, who was looking at her already.

“You want me to pick?” He nodded his head and snuggled closer to her.

“Wow this is a lot of pressure.” She said, tickling his sides making him giggle. “Lets watch SpiderMan” Josh nodded and grabbed the remote to turn the movie on.

15 minutes into the movie Xavier was rocked. Janelle looked down when he started to snore and laughed.

“Guess he was sleepy.” She said, sitting up slightly so she wouldn’t wake him up. With Josh’s help she maneuvered him so he was laying on a pillow and not on her. “Well, goodnight.” She said, cracking the door so that the light from the living room wouldn’t wake Xavier.

Josh looked over at Xavier to make sure he was secured and followed Janelle out of the room.

“Wait.” He called out after her. She turned around, leaning against the front door. “Thank you, for coming to be with Xavier, I don’t know how I would’ve calmed him down.” She nodded her head.

“It was no problem, you know I love Xavier.” That caused Josh to scoff. “What was that for?” She said, crossing her arms.

“How you love him, but you abandoned us.” She gasped.

“I didn’t abandon him or you Joshua. We broke up.” He shook his head.

“No, you broke up with me, leaving me and my son heartbroken, that little boy asked about you for months. And what was I supposed to say? Janelle left you just like your mom?!”

“That was uncalled for Josh!” She said, raising her voice slightly. He shrugged.

“Well it's true and I'm not apologizing for it.”

“Joshua, we broke up, I moved out. Was I supposed to still come around?” She asked, frowning. She should’ve known this conversation was going to happen.

“Why did we break up? Why did you move out? Im still fuckin’ confused.” She groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Josh, come on. We argued everyday, we saw each other at work and at home. There was no escape.” He furrowed his eyebrows at her.

“What argument? We had slight disagreements.” She scoffed at that.

“Josh we yelled from the time we woke up til the time we fell asleep.”

“So what, we were going thru a rough patch, but that doesn’t mean you leave me and my son.”

She groaned and threw her head back against the door, “I love Xavier, but I wasn’t ready to be a mom. I felt overwhelmed. There I was playing house with you-” He cut her off.

“Playing house? Seriously?”

“I wasn’t ready for that lifestyle! And then you kept talking about how good of a mom I was to X and how you couldn’t wait until we had kids of our own.” She was growing frustrated with him. Why couldn't he see where she was coming from. She was young and wanted to have fun. Did he understand the sacrifices she made for him and his son?

“That's how people who love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together talk, Janelle!”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore Josh. I just wanna go to sleep.” She said as she opened the door.

“Go ahead, run away like you always do.” She sighed and let the door close behind her, she wasn’t lying when she said she loved Xavier, she really did. And she wasn’t lying when she said that she wasn’t ready to be a mom.

When she started dating Josh, she knew he had a son but she didn’t know he was a full time dad. Xavier would stay with Josh’s mom when he was on the road but all that changed when Xavier met Janelle, he didn’t want to leave her side. So Xavier started coming on the road with them and wherever Janelle went so did he. He would sit on the equipment boxes behind the camera, while she did her interviews. It got to the point where she was missing out on social events to stay with Josh and Xavier.

She wiped tears from her eyes as she got on the elevator and pressed the button to her floor.

Hopefully this will only be 2 parts. Enjoyy ❤️

#wwe #jey uso imagine #main event jey uso #jey uso #jey uso x black reader #roman reigns #jey uso smut #jey uso one shot #jey uso x reader #jey uso fluff #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso angst #wwe x black reader #wwe x reader #black reader #All I Want Is You #whatdoeseverybodywant writes #jey uso x oc

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redahlia-writes · 11 months

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be still my foolish heart. | joel miller

Abstract: He still felt unsure, unsteady, both wanting to keep her at arm’s length and welcoming her back in his life like before, drown in the comfort he’d found in her presence year after year since they were kids. She’d tried to reassure him, and he knew she was right–you could not live in the world they did and not change. But he remembered her in pigtails on the first day of school, he remembered her prom dress being awfully 80s, and he remembered the first time he’d seen her with Sarah–gentle voiced and wide eyed, holding her as if she might shatter should she breathe a little too hard.

Words: 9.7k

Content: f!reader (called “sugar” as a nickname, described as shorter than joel); childhood friends to lovers, mentions of child’s death, grief, mentions of attempted suicide, PTDS, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, this was supposed to be about joel and sugar but there’s a lot of joel/ellie too. a lot, idiots in love, slow(ish) burn, ellie being a loving little shit, canon divergence (they get to jackson and don’t leave but i never explain why), some very minor spoilers for tlou2, purple prose, unedited

A/N: loosely inspired by almost (sweet music) by hozier; the song they listen to is night and day and can be found in ella fitzgerald sings the cole porter song book (1956).

also on AO3 - masterlist

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

Ellie had never seen a deer in headlights, only saw pictures of the creatures and heard the expression every now and then from older people.

She imagined the way Joel looked in that moment was what they meant.

Frozen still, eyes wide and lips parted, even holding his breath if the lack of condensation by his face was any indicator, Joel stood next to his brother with his back straight, the only indication he hadn’t suddenly turned into a piece of rock the light twitch in his right hand.

There’s someone you should see, Tommy had told him, half a day after they’d gotten to Jackson–they’d had time to eat and leave the few stuff they still had in the house, and right before she could hit the shower Tommy had walked in. Not keen on the idea of being left alone, Ellie had followed the Millers quietly. Joel had even teased her about it.

“Who’s the quiet one now?” she’d huffed at Joel’s sudden immobility. Tommy had looked at her with that half grin that she imagined Joel must’ve had, too, at some point, and then lifted his arm to wave a hand in the direction of a small group by the school. A woman pulled her head up, a green woolen hat low on her brow, and then waved back, a smile visible even from there. “Anyone you know?” she asked, looking back at Joel.

He still did not bat an eye.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she exclaimed, extricating herself from the rest of the group with a quick apology. “Joel Miller,” she called, the name rolling with a certain familiarity out of her mouth as she approached them, brushing some snow from her coat.

“Sugar?” the word came out strangled–his mouth was dry, the ground unstable beneath him. Suddenly, he wasn’t 56 anymore but 16 years old, and around him a shitty classroom that could do with some fixing, or an all too familiar living room, a cluttered bedroom with dark walls–and the smile he was offered had not changed a bit.

“Sugar?” Ellie echoed, a little baffled. Her eyes darted towards the girl, a glint of curiosity.

“Only one who still called me that after we left high-school,” the woman chuckled, stepping forward with her arms open. “Come on, c’mere–it’s been too long.”

Joel hesitated–when was the last time he’d hugged someone? Maybe Tess, though he could not remember when, but that had always been more a clinging-to-each-other type of thing. A hug, that was different, and he felt stuck on the spot all over again.

Before he could overthink it too much, Ellie pushed him forward, making him grunt in protest as he almost fell into the woman’s embrace–he wrapped his arms around her, the movement somewhat foreign, and slowly leaned into it. Despite the cold and snow, she was warm underneath all the layers of clothing she donned, and smelled of freshly cut grass. It reminded him of another time, and if he closed his eyes he could almost see it. He exhaled.

“You stink, Miller–how long have you been out there?” she laughed softly, one hand cupping the back of his head, same way she used to when they were younger. He remembered dancing.

“A while,” he admitted, unable to argue with that, easing into the embrace furthermore. “Sorry,” he added, and she patted his shoulder gently, another delicate chuckle that rang crystalline to his ears.

“I’ve had it worse, it’s alright,” she murmured, chin hooked over his shoulder–he could feel her straining to stand on her tiptoes, slightly unbalanced, and lowered himself against her, face buried in the curve of her neck wrapped by a soft scarf that matched the hat. She sighed softly at the movement, her fingertips scratching across his scalp. “God, it’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” voice slightly muffled and blind to the world, Joel was able to admit that. Maybe it was nostalgia, making him forget everything else for a few moments as he lingered in the peacefulness of that familiar touch, or maybe it was exhaustion, blurring the edges between who he used to be and who he was now.

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” she whispered then, and it felt like ice through his veins. He pulled back slightly, the urge to run away making his limbs tremble–but she kept him caged in, the arm around his shoulders stronger than he remembered (was he tired? Was he too out of it?), and the hand that had brushed his hair falling to his cheek, brushing away some of the grime he’d grown used to by then.

But it was her gaze that kept him rooted, though, that softness he didn’t think could still exist in the world they lived in, and emotions he had almost forgotten, ignoring them each time they presented themselves–it’d be too risky to feel them, too easy to surrender to it again: sorrow, grief. It cut his breath all over again.

“Tommy told me,” she kept her voice low, her touch gentle, rubbing her thumb across his uneven beard. The bustling in the air was foreign after so many months of quiet, and he wasn’t sure which one made his body ache–the current life, or the past death.

“Of course he did,” he scoffed, and her expression shifted, a reprimand in her gaze that used to make him laugh when they were younger, and furthermore when she grew into that same expression, year after year of standing together.

“Joel,” she chided, still soft-voiced, still attempting to comfort him through that small motion on his face. He remembered that touch and kind, encouraging words with a baby in his arms; he remembered his name called out through laughter–hers, his daughter’s; he remembered winters and summers and years before that. He closed his eyes, a furrow in his brow.

“No, of course he did,” he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Sorry, it’s just–she really liked you, you know?” his eyes remained closed, trying to push back the pressure building behind his eyelids, trying to swallow the knot in his throat.

“I know,” he felt her nod, press herself closer just as her name was called from behind them. When he looked up at her again, her eyes were shimmering, that vulnerability he hadn’t had the courage to show again after the ringing in his right ear had stopped. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, bringing her other hand to his face, too, holding him like that. He nodded, afraid that if he spoke right away he would crumble.

All it had taken was a gentler touch, and he was ready to fall apart.

“You oughta go–looks like you’re needed,” he cleared his throat, the damn knot clinging to his larynx seemingly impossible to push away. She looked over her shoulder, the group she was with before waving her over, and sighed before turning back towards him.

They still hadn’t let go of each other, and neither seemed willing to make the first move.

“I’m expecting you all for dinner,” she spoke a little louder then, turning her head as if to look past Joel’s shoulder but without moving her gaze from him. “Alright, Tommy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the younger Miller called, his eyes returning to the pair after having wandered elsewhere for the duration of their reunion–the most privacy that could be given in that context. Ellie hadn’t been as subtle, her head tilted and a curious look in her eyes at the sudden burst of emotion that seemed to roll off Joel’s back. It was astounding.

In the end, she was the first to depart, a kiss to Joel’s cheek that seemed to melt away what little tension was left in him. He stumbled back as she walked towards the group, one last look over her shoulder that ended up being directed towards Ellie, a quick smile and small wave she returned, somewhat unsure.

“I felt the same way,” Tommy rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder, as if to shake him from the haze that seemed to have permeated him thoroughly.

“She been here long?” he was frowning again, forcing his gaze away from the back of her head to look at Tommy. The younger Miller nodded a couple of times.

“Even before I got here,” he said, slowly beginning to lead him away, Joel seemingly rooted to the spot once more. “You know Sugar, she’s always been a step ahead of us,” he added, and in his murmur there was a fond smile.

“Sugar?” Ellie repeated, her eyebrows arched with her returned bafflement.

“Just a stupid nickname,” Joel muttered, shaking himself off in a way that seemed more a recoil–he turned and cleared his throat. “Old nickname. Don’t even know who came up with it in school. It stuck.”

“For you it stuck,” Tommy was smiling, clearly amused. They seemed so different, Ellie thought. Had they always been like that? She wondered if she could ask her. “Pure irony, really,” Tommy continued, addressing her. “She always fought people–a real spitfire.”

“You only say that because you got slapped,” Ellie’s eyebrows arched furthermore at Joel’s scoff, a tint of amusement in his words.

“And you,” the younger Miller retorted, making Ellie’s lips part.

“Oh, I like her,” she exclaimed, turning to look at her–she was back at work, the scarf now covering the lower part of her face, though she could still hear her laughter ring clear.

A week later, they stood in her living room.

Though they’d met again around town after that first day, it had taken both Joel and Ellie a moment to settle in. The house felt odd for them both–Ellie having never had one, Joel not remembering his old one. It helped that she lived just around the corner, and in the morning he’d see her walk by to head towards the center.

Slowly, he found a routine, found a way to make himself useful, and leaned into it. Ellie was wilder, refusing to go to school and spending most of her time in her bedroom, Walkman constantly on as she went through pages and pages of old diaries, old books.

“Wanna come to this thing with me?” was the only thing he asked her that night–they threaded carefully around each other, murmured confessions before he sent her to bed at night (the only thing he was firm with, leaving her her space otherwise). It wasn’t time that did it, Ellie’s head resting on his shoulder as she fiddled with the new record he’d found for her. When I got bit in the mall I wasn’t on my own, Riley’s name bitter on her tongue.

“What thing?” Joel’s hair was slicked back, a new shirt Tommy had gotten for him along with his jacket. He actually looked put together, which was the reason why Ellie sat up quickly. “Are you going to Sugar’s?”

“Stop calling her that,” he muttered, though it was the only way he ever referred her as–old habits, he thought. “Yeah–Tommy and Maria are gonna be there too, we’re all adults so if–”

“Let’s go,” she hopped up.

And so they were in her living room, scarcely decorated but recognisable as hers nonetheless, and Ellie walked around the place with a curious gaze, hands fidgeting at her sides.

“How did you convince her to come here?” Maria asked quietly, as the three of them waited for the lady of the house–she had categorically refused any help in the kitchen, ordering them to wait by the set table. Old habits, Joel thought again.

“I didn’t,” he shrugged, watching the kid linger at a picture set in a cracked frame, the dance of her fingers ceasing for just a moment. “I think she likes her–probably has to do with the slapping stories.”

“Definitely has to do with the slapping stories,” Tommy chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Ellie asked, without turning to look at them. “Actually–him I can understand,” Joel scowled at Ellie’s remark while she pointed at him, spinning around to face the three of them. “But why did she hit you?” Maria chuckled at that, while Tommy almost choked on his drink and his face burned a brighter shade of red.

“Ah, well, I–” he cleared his throat–it was another time, he thought. So many years before. “I–kind of made a move on her. And then told her I was gonna join the army,” he rubbed his jaw, some sort of nervous twitch as he glanced in a grinning Maria’s direction. “Still not sure which one pissed her off more.”

“The army,” she said, coming into the living room while holding a fuming pot she was quick to place on the table. Joel’s posture changed, a slight shift towards her by the head of the table and his head twisting so that his gaze would be on her, the ghost of a smile across his lips. “If one of you was going to be a self-sacrificing idiot and leave, I expected that to be Joel.”

“You shipped yourself off to college,” Tommy protested as they sat down–Joel remained next to her on left, Ellie next to him (she didn’t like being on his deaf side, but she preferred it to sitting away), Tommy and Maria on the other side.

“Definitely not the same thing,” she wrinkled her nose in a half-grimace, plating up the food–whatever it was, Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d smelled something so good, her stomach already grumbling. Tommy scoffed lightly, passing on the plates.

“Wait, you made a move? If anything I thought–” before Ellie could finish the sentence, Joel pinched her leg, making her yelp and turn to him wide-eyed. “What the hell was that for?”

“Manners,” he muttered–at the corner of his eye, the woman tried to fight off a smile, setting the last plate in front of him. “Eat your food.”

She looked at the older Miller and the kid throughout the dinner and the chats, the scowls and grins, his reprimands and her sharp tongue. It was a familiar scene, late dinners stolen in a living room she once knew like it was her own.

The younger brother leaving early on was familiar, too, Maria tiring easily from the pregnancy and Tommy refusing to leave her side for longer than necessary–her heart ached at the thought of Tommy Miller having grown up, until it functioned as a reminder that growing up in their world now meant surviving. It was easier to think of it like that.

“Just means you’re gonna have to come back for dessert,” she said as Maria hugged her, winking in Tommy’s direction, too.

“We should get going, too,” Joel cleared his throat once it was just the three of them, heading for the rack where his and Ellie’s jacket hung. She had the fleeting thought that he was trying to avoid being alone with her–though they weren’t really alone–as he had for the whole week. A quick greeting and then away, never lingering too much around her. She figured it was because he was still settling in–hoped that was the reason, in spite of the years gone by.

“But I want dessert!” the girl protested, still sat at the table (by herself).

“Ellie,” he sighed heavily, not turning to look at her as picked up her coat.

“Joel,” she retorted in the same tone, unmoving. The woman looked between the two of them with an eyebrow arched, fighting the smile off of her lips the moment Joel sighed again, head falling forward. It wasn’t needed, but Ellie took it a step further, softening her voice for a, “Please?”

Joel Miller had always had a hard time saying no to his daughter. Guess things hadn’t changed that much.

“If we’re bothering–” he started, his gaze flicking from Ellie to her.

“Oh, quit that, Miller,” she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Ellie, grab your plate, come,” Joel remained frozen for a moment as the girl beamed, standing with the plate in her hands and quickly following her towards the kitchen. A beat, and then he went after them, bringing with him the rest of the dirty dishes they’d left behind.

“What is that?” Ellie had stopped abruptly at the entrance of the kitchen, eyes wide, forcing Joel to walk around her at the last moment, stumbling towards the woman who was placing a tray onto the counter. He lingered a moment, his gaze following the twisted pattern made of golden dough, and once more he felt transported back ages in time.

“My mama’s apple pie,” she said gently, a smile grazing her face–there was a bitterness to it, too, with the realization that that was probably the first time Ellie saw one outside of pictures. “We produce the flour ourselves, and have the dogs check it for possible contamination, so it’s safe,” Joel could almost see the hope in her eyes in trying to reassure the kid, grabbing the knife and offering it to her by the handle. “Wanna have a go?”

Ellie’s eyes shimmered with excitement as she took the sharp knife, getting closer to her–she leaned with one arm on the counter, while with the other hand she showed her where to start, mimicking the movement of cutting down towards the crust. As he placed the dirty dishes in the sink, Joel inhaled deeply, the perfume coming out of the still warm filling in fumes.

“Jesus,” he muttered with a soft groan, turning around quickly. Ellie stilled, her gaze flickering from where she held the knife up to him, then back to the grinning woman who was looking at him, too. “Sorry.”

“You know, your–” she stopped herself, clearing her throat before straightening her back. “Joel would always know when we made this at my place. I don’t know how but he did–never failed to show up when my mama got one in the oven.”

“Sixth sense,” Joel chuckled, getting closer as well, his mouth already watering. “Smells just like then,” he mumbled, shifting on the spot when she bumped her hip against him, her smile widening. “You know, Sarah wanted to call you to bring it over, before–” he cut himself off.

Ellie shuffled on the spot, the knife in her hand a sudden weight she didn’t like–Joel had mentioned just in passing Sarah to her, admitting first and foremost to her existence, half-joking over their differences. But whenever he did his eyes would go unfocused, gaze dropping to the broken watch.

She watched as the woman pressed herself slightly closer, hand brushing the back of Joel’s, right up to the cracked watch before she even looked up, the movement seemingly enough to draw Joel’s attention towards her; she watched as the man cleared his throat, right hand twitching before he exhaled, pulling back as if in afterthought, reaching for the cupboard; she watched Sugar’s head drop slightly, and then straighten again with a forced smile in her direction. Ellie returned it tentatively.

“Alright, kiddo–it’s best when it’s warm,” she encouraged, taking the knife from her as Joel returned with clean plates. She deposited the slice on one, pushing it in Ellie’s direction. “Too bad we haven’t got any ice cream, tastes even better with that.”

“Can’t miss what I never tried, right?” Ellie shrugged, that crooked smile still on. “Thanks,” she added then, stepping away, back towards the living room. She’d started to learn when others needed space.

“Joel,” his name whispered was like a bucket of ice water thrown in his face, a shuddering breath leaving him when he turned to look at her. Her head was slightly tilted, a soft gaze that tethered on mournful. Joel didn’t want pity. He wanted so much, but not pity.

“Can’t,” he said through gritted teeth. Her hand reached for him again, slower, fingers brushing his knuckles as they whitened with the clench of his fists above the counter. “Sugar, I can’t,” he repeated, looking down. She pressed her palm over the back of his hand, a firm knead to unfurl his fingers from where they pushed into his own palm, blunt nails still leaving their mark. He shook his head.

“It’s just me,” she kept her voice low, soft.

Tommy had told her a lot–the whole of it, really. Sarah’s death. Joel’s attempt. The shift in him–the shift in them both, but mostly Joel. The anger. The bad, awful things they’d done. The anger, the only thing Joel seemed to have felt for the past 20 years.

It nearly broke her heart.

“I know,” his eyes flickered towards the door leading to the living room, Ellie’s head peeking from behind the backrest of the armchair. “You haven’t changed one bit, but I–”

“That’s not true,” she shook her head, scooting closer. “I have. Everybody has. We had to,” curling her fingers around his hand, she slowly picked it up, bringing it closer to her. There were calluses on her fingers he didn’t remember from the years before, lines across her face he thought were a trick of the light. “You think you lost your humanity when Sarah died, but that’s not true,” she tilted her head towards the living room, gaze flickering to Ellie, the scrape of the fork against the plate the only sound coming from her. “She’s proof of that. You must see that.”

“She was a job,” his hand felt cold in hers, fingers twitching slightly. Each time, she squeezed it softly, bringing it closer to her stomach. He could feel her warmth even like that.

“She was,” she nodded in agreement, shifting so she could meet his gaze. “And now?”

“It’s complicated,” he returned, and a bittersweet smile grazed her lips.

“You always saw things as more complicated than they actually were,” she let go of him, and Joel clenched his hand suspended mid-air in her direction, while she turned towards the counter, taking the knife up again to cut two more slices of pie and plate them. “Perhaps you’re not exactly your old self, but you’re still almost you, no matter what you tell yourself, Joel,” she pushed one of the plates in his direction, glancing at him once more. “Eat up.”

Joel had a hard time breathing. It happened less frequently–it had been weeks since his last episode, he’d almost forgotten about it–but it still did, every now and then. He hated it.

He wasn’t sure what triggered it: he wasn’t doing anything specific, was just thinking about how to fix the creaky step that led up and down his patio, when all of a sudden he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe and his chest ached, right in the middle, like a weight trying to pin him down against the ground–but the ground didn’t feel stable, and he had to lean against the wall for support while everything spun around him.

Worst of all was the ringing in his ears. He’d gotten used to the muffled sounds in his right ear, and the sudden high pitched noise made him dizzy, made his vision waiver, made him unable to exhale. The next breath scratched at his throat, like a badly chewed bite refusing to go down, no matter how many times he tried to swallow.

“Dad?” he gasped, the town suddenly in front of him again. The edges were still blurred, but right in front of him stood Ellie–a few steps behind, Sugar had her head tilted, a curious gaze in her eyes.

“What?” his voice rang still distant, somehow, and he shook his head, trying to clear the clouds away.

“I said are you alright?” Ellie frowned, getting a step closer. “Joel, are you going deaf in both ears?” she asked, and that melted away the tension in Joel’s shoulders with a sigh.

“Very funny,” he muttered, pushing himself off from the school wall. “I just got distracted, is all. You ready?” he cleared his throat, glancing briefly in the woman’s direction.

“You know you don’t have to come get me every day, right?” Ellie mumbled, moving at his side. “It’s not like I can run away,” Joel gave her a look–eyebrows arched, head slightly tilted, that same expression he used when Tommy said something dumb. Ellie could almost hear it.

You ran away from FEDRA and sneaked into a sealed mall. I wouldn’t put it past you.

Maybe he had a point.

“Bye, Ms. Sugar!” a girl called from behind them, dark hair pulled away from her freckled face. “Ellie, you coming?” she waited, expectantly. Ellie turned towards Joel, whose face had shifted into a simil-scowl.

“So that’s what you meant, huh?” he crossed his arms, to which Ellie responded with a lopsided grin, looking at him expectantly, the mute question clear in her eyes. Can I? “Wait, Ms. Sugar?” he turned to look at the woman who still stood there, and she snorted.

“Ask Ellie about it,” she retorted, clearly amused by the guilty look creeping across the girl’s face. “She’ll be right there, Dina!” she called out then, a little louder.

“I didn’t mean to, okay?” Ellie protested, with a small kick to the melting snow in front of her. “You call her that all the time–it just came out of my mouth,” she argued then, pointing at Joel.

“Are you blaming me for calling your teacher with a nickname?” he returned, baffled.

“Yes,” Ellie nodded. Behind Ellie, he saw her stifle a giggle, quick to lower her head and cover her mouth with a hand. The girl looked up at him still, eyes softening in a pleading motion. “Can I go?”

“Sure,” he sighed–the word was barely out of his mouth before Ellie was already darting away, running towards her smiling friend. “I’m sorry,” he said then, turning to her.

“It’s alright, Joel,” clearly amused, she shook her head and took a step closer to him, hands dropped at her sides. “Besides, I think only Dina heard her. Maybe Cat, too, but it’s no big deal,” she shrugged, standing right in front of him now. Joel tightened his grip around Ellie’s bag strap, lowering his gaze to her.

“She good?” he asked, a little quieter. “This Dina, she–”

“Yes, she’s a good kid,” she said with a smile and a small nod, tilting her head slightly. “You can rest easy, Mr. Miller,” at that, Joel snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Mr. Miller,” he mocked, to which her smile widened. “Haven’t been called that since I had to meet with Sarah’s teachers,” as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his expression fell slightly, gaze unfocused. He thought he was about to stop breathing again, when she placed her hand on his upper arm, pressing gently against the jacket sleeve.

“Joel,” with a whisper of his name, he snapped his eyes back up towards her–a worried crease crossed her forehead, knitting her brows closer. “What is it?”

She knew what it was. She’d seen it, in people younger and older than him; she’d felt it on her own skin, clawing at her throat in a desperate attempt to clear her airways. Hers had never been as immobile as Joel’s. She kicked and screamed and cried until she was spent and aching all over.

“Just–” he clicked his tongue and thought of lying.

He still felt unsure, unsteady, both wanting to keep her at arm’s length and welcoming her back in his life like before, drown in the comfort he’d found in her presence year after year since they were kids. She’d tried to reassure him, and he knew she was right–you could not live in the world they did and not change. But he remembered her in pigtails on the first day of school, he remembered her prom dress being awfully 80s, and he remembered the first time he’d seen her with Sarah–gentle voiced and wide eyed, holding her as if she might shatter should she breathe a little too hard.

“It’s like starting all over again with her–not sure if I’m doing right or wrong whenever I make a decision,” he admitted then, voice low–she got closer, gaze softening. He wanted to lean into her all of a sudden, but clenched his fists instead, the strap of Ellie’s bag digging in his palm. “I can’t disappoint her, can’t–I can’t fail her, too.”

“You didn’t fail anyone, Joel,” he almost disagreed, but the look she gave him didn’t leave room for any argument. He snapped his mouth shut. “It’s odd, adjusting to this place–I didn’t sleep properly for a year, flinched at every noise. When Maria asked me if I wanted to teach I thought she’d lost her mind,” she scoffed, shaking her head lightly. “And then I had my first full night of sleep. The kids and parents started waving at me in the streets. I ate food that hadn't expired 10 years ago. It’s–give yourself some time to adjust, Miller. Both of you.”

Joel exhaled, tipping his head slightly back and looking up towards the sky–it was sunny, mercifully, the cold starting to become bearable. He felt her shuffle forward rather than see her, eyelids fluttering when she rested her hand over his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Ellie’s doing good,” she reassured then, smiling when he looked back at her. “She’s–a little wild, maybe, but she feels safe here. With you. She’ll be alright,” head tilted slightly to the side, the scarf wrapped around her neck slipped–he almost reached up to fix it for her. “So will you.”

“You always knew what to say, didn’t you?” he sighed, turning his head a little–he felt her hand move from his shoulder to his upper arm, warmth spreading wherever her touch lingered. He leaned into it.

“Not really, most of the time I winged it,” she shrugged, and his smile returned, although tentative, while shaking his head. “How’d you think I made it through college?”

“Brains, Sugar,” without thinking too much about it, he reached up and pinched her chin, gently tilting her head back a little. “You’ve always had more brains than us combined. I think we both should’ve listened to you more.”

“Took you long enough to admit that,” she grinned, following the curve of his arm down to where his hand still brushed her face. She brushed her fingertips along the back of his hand, lingering at his knuckles. “It hurt to say it out loud, didn’t it?” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, actually. I’m quite alright,” her eyebrows arched, wrapping her fingers around his hand for balance before reaching for his forehead with her other one. Joel laughed then, taking one small step back to balance them both, eyes crinkling at the touch. “What are you doing?”

“Checking if you have a fever,” she replied, nonchalantly, shifting her hand over his temple, over his cheek. “God forbid this affects you physically,” she added in a mock whisper, unable to hide the amusement in her words. Still laughing, Joel let go of Ellie’s bag to reach up and grab her other hand.

“Alright, alright,” he pulled his head slightly back, holding their joined hands between them–she’d tipped forward, unbalanced, and he held her upright, looking back down towards her grinning face. “You’ve made your point. Thank you.”

“Good,” she chuckled. They remained like that a moment longer, simply looking at each other, before she cleared her throat and glanced quickly over her shoulder. “I should go. Gotta fix up the classroom or else Hell might just break loose tomorrow.”

“Right,” he let go of her, his palms tingling still. “Well, I–thank you, Sugar. I mean it.”

“I know you do,” expression softened again, she stepped back–they had barely realized how close they were. Joel missed it right away. “I’ll see ya, Miller.”

“Sure,” he murmured in return, one of the hands he’d kept lifted doing a half-wave as she turned around. He kept it up, gaze lingering on her back until she’d vanished back into the building.

“Damn,” he whipped around with his eyes wide, gaze immediately falling to Ellie at his side.

“What are you doing here?” he muttered, a quick look over his shoulder and then past Ellie’s head. “Language,” he added right away, making her snort.

“Didn’t know you could laugh,” she retorted, her eyebrows arched.

“That's bullshit, you’ve heard me before,” he frowned, and Ellie’s grin widened.

“Language,” she mocked him, making Joel scowl. “Sure I did, but it wasn’t like this.”

“Like what?” still frowning, he watched her shrug and point vaguely at him.

“This,” she repeated, then shrugged and grabbed her bag from the ground in front of him. “Anyways, I came back to get this. Bye.”

“Ellie!” he protested, though she was already skipping away. “Like what?”

Winter passed, and the first glimpses of Spring came to Jackson in the shape of flowers and fruit, an unfrozen ground giving them the first rewards. Ellie would spend more days outside with her friends, but every now and then she’d hang back with him, sitting on the porch while he tried to teach her how to play guitar.

“Now try the next one,” he nodded, after a while she’d been repeating the same three notes, a small melody she’d been practicing.

“I can’t do the next one,” she protested, keeping at it. Joel began to argue, but a movement at the corner of his eye made him turn around–with his good ear towards Ellie, he didn’t hear the woman’s steps until she was in his peripheral vision. He followed her with his gaze, head turning as she went–her hands were occupied by a large box, and when she noticed them she just smiled, but didn’t stop. “No, Ellie, don’t say that. You’re doing great. You can do it.”

“What?” he cleared his throat, snapping his head back around towards the kid. She was scowling, arms crossed over the guitar as he stared at him. “You are doing good. Go to the next one,” at that she rolled her eyes, lips parting with a scoff. “What?” he repeated.

“Will you quit being a stubborn ass?” Ellie groaned, lowering the guitar and leaning back into the seat. Joel’s eyebrows arched high, disbelief painted across his face.

“Watch your mouth, kid,” she scoffed again, tapping across the wood.

“Yeah, yeah,” she practically brushed him off. “But will you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joel mimicked her, leaning back against the backrest and crossing his arms, his head twisting ever so slightly towards where he was looking before, towards her. A groan escaped her.

“Oh, please, you know perfectly well,” Joel frowned now, watching as Ellie pointed her finger in the woman’s direction–she was too far to see them, or hear them, but still Joel tapped against her extended hand. “You like her,” the girl said, bringing her hand back towards her chest. It was Joel’s turn to scoff.

“Yeah, I like her–we’ve been friends since we were kids,” he shrugged, then folded his arms across his chest once more. Ellie rolled her eyes again.

“No, I mean you like like her. Like you’re in love with her,” Joel snorted, shaking his head.

“What would you know about that?” despite the levity in Ellie’s tone, her face darkened for a moment–it had been a while since he’d seen that look in her eyes, and a pang of guilt shot through him right away. He shifted in his seat.

“I have eyes,” Ellie muttered, placing the guitar down to curl up in the chair, legs up to her chest and arms crossed. “Pretty sure the whole of Jackson knows. It’s obvious.”

“Ellie, we’ve known each other ages,” Joel sighed, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “If I had a problem I’d go to her, and if she had a problem she’d come to me. We’ve been there for each other during–” he cleared his throat, lowering his gaze, “most of the worst times of our lives.”

“And you’ve never–” she trailed off.

“No,” he shook his head with a light smile.

“Not even once?” again he shook his head. “Seriously?”

“Tommy had a crush on her,” he shrugged, and she straightened her back.

“So you thought about it, then,” she exclaimed. Joel dropped his head slightly with a sigh.

“I was a teenager once, you know,” she arched her brows. “She was nice, and she was my friend, and she was real pretty–but there are things that are more important than a crush.”

Ellie was quiet for a moment, leaning back down, her fingers tapping up and down her shins as she lowered her gaze, eyebrows pinched together.

“Did–did Sarah like her?” it had started to be easier, talking about her. While Joel still felt the hurt of her absence, the anger and disbelief of his grief had turned into quiet acceptance. Ellie would rarely ask questions about her, but he found it helped.

“She loved her,” he nodded, easing back into the chair. “There weren’t a lot of women in Sarah’s life, but she was there, especially when she needed it the most. And she did love Sarah back–so much,” a fond smile caught on his mouth.

“Yeah, I figured,” Ellie mumbled, tilting her head a little. “It’s her, isn’t it? In the picture with the cracked frame at her place.”

Joel had tried to not linger too much on that picture–Sarah was young in it, 3 or 4 maybe, a full head of curls sticking out on every side. He remembered fighting each day to try and fix it, and her laughing at his feeble attempts. She taught him first–simple hairstyles he could do in the mornings before dropping her off to school and that would survive the day ahead–and then Sarah herself for when she did not want to leave it as it was.

She’d been there for him and Sarah all the time, and he wasn't sure he’d thanked her nearly enough for it. When her mom left, when she started teething, walking, talking, on her first day of school, and every year after that, leaving campus to be at each game, each recital. Clothes, music, movies, all of it–she was always there.

“Yes,” he nodded, slowly. Ellie hummed.

“You should fix that for her,” she said then, standing almost abruptly. “Might be nice. It might also give you an excuse,” she added with a shrug.

“I don’t need an excuse, Ellie,” he sighed, picking the guitar from her. The girl shrugged again, then headed inside. “You’re going somewhere?”

“Cat’s!” she called from inside. Joel strummed a few slow notes, waiting for her to come back out–she did so rushing, jacket half-thrown on. “I still think I’m right. Bye!”

She glanced up from her handiwork when a step echoed a little louder over the gravel, her face immediately splitting in a wide smile and Joel’s half-still stance in the low streetlight.

“Knitting on the porch? That’s new,” he grinned, resuming walking towards her.

“If my mother could see me now, right?” she retorted with a chuckle he matched with a smile of his own, leaving the half-finished sweater aside to stand up. “Hi,” she said then, moving forward to the steps he was climbing.

“Hi,” he returned, stopping one step down so they were at the same level. He brought his hands forward from behind his back, the previously cracked frame and picture within, his gaze lingering on Sarah’s smile a moment longer. “Fixed it for ya.”

“Oh,” she looked over her shoulder, towards the slightly ajar door as if to look at the spot it had been resting. “You didn’t–thank you,” she said, carefully picking it from him.

“Sure,” he shrugged lightly, burying his now empty hands in his pockets. “Thought I’d just stop by,” he added, shuffling slightly. Her smile widened.

“You know you don’t need an excuse to just stop by, right?” she turned around, gesturing at him to follow as she headed inside, lingering at the entrance to place the picture right back where it belonged.

“I know,” he mumbled, lingering at the threshold. One of his guitars was in the living room, resting against the armchair Ellie had curled up in and ended up falling asleep on during the first time they’d gone over. The last time, he’d forgotten the instrument, after Tommy had insisted vehemently he should’ve brought it with him.

“I meant to bring that over,” she said, catching him looking at it. “I saw you teaching Ellie,” she added, pinching one string as she passed by it before heading to the kitchen.

“Yeah, tryin’ to,” Joel followed, fingertips tingling stuffed in his pockets. “She’s good.”

“Better than I was?” she returned with two glasses filled with amber liquid and a grin on her face. “Sweet tea–I got some of the first lemons.”

“Baking, making sweet tea, knitting,” he picked the cool glass from her with a grateful look–the simple act of holding it gave him back another piece of home he thought was gone forever. It had happened quite a few times since they’d found each other again. “You’re turning into your mother, Sugar.”

The woman snorted, rolling her eyes as she stepped away, and Joel was quick to hide his smirk behind the rim of the glass.

“I’ll pretend that was a compliment, Miller,” she squinted in his direction, mock-menacingly.

“C’mon, you know I loved your mother,” he argued before taking a sip–he hummed softly, eyes shutting on instinct. If he focused, he could hear the fire crackling and water bubbling over the stove as her mother made it, could taste the sugar and lemon or peaches she’d slip them in the meantime. He sighed. “I’ll tell you what–your talents clearly reside in this, not that,” he added, pointing towards the guitar. She laughed again.

“Well, I’d rather listen to the music than play it,” she declared, her chin tilted upwards, a grin mimicking his own. Then her eyes widened, a shimmer in them as she jolted on the spot, quickly resting the glass down on the table. “I’ve gotta show you something!”

A small frown knitted his brow as he licked the sweetness from his mouth and followed her with his gaze, hurried steps towards the bedroom that echoed in the quiet of the home. She was gone a few minutes, returning after a moment of rattling, a wide smile spread across her face. Joel’s eyes fell to the object in her hands–a portable CD player, not so different from the one she’d gifted Sarah in the 90s but they always ended up stealing once she was asleep.

“Audio is not the best, to be fair, but after so many years without music–” she stopped in front of him, offering one of the earphones to him while she put the other one in.

Still frowning lightly, Joel shuffled closer, the short cord forcing him forward. The drum arrived first, the sound slightly scratched, and with her smile widening she looked up at him. Like the beat beat beat of the tom-tom, he chuckled as she freed his hands, rocking from one side to the other following the rhythm.

“Where’d you get this?” he stumbled forward when she took one of his hands, tugging him closer–the other fell to her side to second her swinging–he couldn’t help returning her infectious smile as she shrugged lightly, her free hand reaching on his shoulder.

“Luck–I found it before getting here along with a couple of CDs,” she looked up at him, head slightly tilted. “This one reminded me of you,” she added, voice softer–for a moment, her smile faltered.

She’d never thought she’d see him again, keeping the record out of pure nostalgia for someone she hadn’t seen in years. Someone she always feared was gone. They’d listened to Ella Fitzgerald constantly during their teenage years, Joel sneaking some of his parents’ records to her house, or locking themselves into listening booths for hours until they were kicked out. Dancing as they were in that moment.

“Only you beneath the moon and under the sun,” she hummed, their movements slowing with the song. “Whether near to me or fat, it’s no matter darling where you are–”

“I think of you night and day, day and night, why is it so?” he joined in, voice low, head bending slightly towards her–her smile returned, a shimmer in her eyes.

“Your voice’s changed,” she murmured, taking half a step closer. “S’warmer. I like it.”

“Thought you always liked my voice,” he smiled, tucking his chin to look down at her. She nodded with a low chuckle, locking their already joined hands together by intertwining their fingers.

“’Course I did,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes mockingly. She gave a squeeze to his hand then, lowering her head slightly. “I missed it–this,” she inhaled sharply then, a shallow sound that temporarily overwhelmed the music. “You,” she added, almost in a whisper that would’ve been lost to him had he not been looking at her mouth.

Joel’s heart stuttered, a soft sigh at her admission as his eyes fluttered shut, just a moment. Tongue-tied, he shifted closer, as close as he could get, the hand on her waist moving to the small of her back, wrapping his arm around her. He didn’t know how to tell her, how to let his mouth form the words that clouded his head–that had been since he’d seen her again. He couldn’t say it, not for lack of trying.

“Sugar,” he whispered, and she nodded, leaning forward and cutting him off.

The song went on, and she rested her head on his chest–the hand on his shoulder was soft, arm almost draped across it as she toyed absentmindedly with the collar of his shirt, brushing the nape of his neck every now and then. Their joined ones fell to his chest, arms bent, the warmth of her exhales brushing across their knuckles. He bent his head slightly, cheek barely brushing the top of her head, and he tightened his arm around her waist to keep her close–each song closer, until the music stopped.

They stayed like that a moment longer, even in silence, his heart beating the only sound she could hear, silence on his end with his good ear plugged by the earphone. She rubbed her thumb against the side of his hand, small movements that made his eyelids droop. He caught a glimpse of the top of her head like that, the curve of her nose, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks and the small pout on her relaxed mouth, all half-hidden against him. She looked–

“Ah, fuck’s sake,” he muttered to himself, and she blinked rapidly before looking up, wide-eyed. She tilted her head, gently pulling his earphone off.

“What is it?” she cleared her throat, taking a small step back. The hold on his hand began loosening, so he forced himself to ease his arm around her waist, too, shaking his head.

“Nothin’, just–something Ellie said, it’s not important,” he let go of her when her brows knit, a hint of perplexity in her gaze. “I should go, actually. Check she’s actually gone to sleep.”

“Of course,” she returned quickly, stepping even further back, hands falling to her sides and rubbing down slowly, palms dragging along the seams of her jeans. “Thank you. For the frame–and passing by.”

His right hand twitched slightly at his side, and he took a small step back, nodding at her words. He stopped then, moving forward once more–he pushed past the knot in his throat and the tingling in his limbs and his heart dropping, and reached for her face. She leaned into his touch, his hands cupping over her cheeks as he shifted closer once more, brushing a delicate kiss to her forehead, her lips curled into the beginning of a smile. He held her gently, the touch of his lips lingering a moment longer over her skin before he moved away.

“See ya, Sugar.”

Summer was relentless. With days spent seeking shadows and some reprieve from the heat, the nights were unbearable in their stillness. Joel couldn’t sleep–after 20 years in Boston, he wasn’t used to the Southern heat anymore.

And he would be lying to himself if he thought that was the only reason why.

He kept replaying the conversation with Tommy in his head, over and over. He was haunted by it, sitting on the porch in the quiet of Jackson’s night.

“Ellie’s right, it is getting painful to watch.”

“The hell are you talking with Ellie about?”

“You and Sugar. It’s worse than when we were young, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“Means this time I can’t pretend to ask her out so that you finally get your head out of your ass and admit you like her. You gotta wake up, Joel.”

He was awake. Truth was, Joel had felt like he had been living in a nightmare for the past 20 years–and now he was awake and didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t know how to be himself anymore. Or how to be a person.

Perhaps that was why he was knocking on her door while everyone else was asleep. Perhaps he was just too much in his head about it. Perhaps–

“Joel?” his eyes fell down across her, flimsy night clothes clinging to her for a split second before he forced his gaze up, breath stuttering slightly. “It’s the middle of the night, what happened?”

“Sorry–shit,” he looked away, past his shoulder, back at her–was his heart beating faster? Were his hands shaking? He felt like it. “You’re right. Sorry, I’ll just–it can wait,” he stepped back, shaking his head.

“It clearly can’t, since you knocked at my door like a maniac,” she said it with a little grin, and some tension left his shoulders at the sight of it, of her stepping back and opening the door further for him. “C’mon, get inside.”

Joel walked past her and his steps faltered, tilting his head in her direction with a sharp inhale before moving along, fists opening and closing down his sides. He’d gotten better at that–not letting it all overwhelm him. Understand when the world might begin tipping under his feet and stabilize himself. He was trying–for Ellie, for his brother, for her, he was really trying.

“What happened?” she asked softly. They stood in the living room as they had before, as they had when they’d danced, except they were each on one end of the couch, a gaping emptiness between the two of them. “Should I start to get worried? You look like–”

“I like you,” he blurted out, recoiling at the shift in his own voice–so much louder than her careful tone. She blinked rapidly, head slightly tilted.

“I should hope so,” she scoffed, the reassuring smile she had before turning into a downright amused one. But Joel was shaking his head already, hands still restless. “Joel–”

“No, I mean–I like like you,” she blinked again, lips parting slightly and making her smile begin to dwindle. “Like I think I might be in love with you,” he closed his eyes, inhaling sharply–of course Ellie’s voice would echo in his head right then. Making an absolute fool out of him. “And I think I’ve always been and just didn’t know, or maybe I did know and I just didn’t want to fuck up this too, because I always fucked up everything, every relationship I ever had but ours, and the thought of losing you was terrifying–is terrifying,” he gasped a little between words, each one falling out of his mouth and out of his control. “Or maybe I wasn’t, you know? Maybe–maybe I just–”

“Joey,” she called him softly–so soft he almost didn’t hear her, and reacted first to her hand resting over his chest. His eyes flew open, gaze unfocused for a moment running across her face before they locked with hers, familiar and gentle. She pressed her palm against his chest, and he knew for sure his heart was stuttering underneath her touch. “Take a breath.”

He gasped again, shoulders dropping forward as if wrapping himself around her hand with a long exhale. Blindly, he reached for her, fingers wrapping around her wrist.

“Another,” she instructed, taking his other hand gingerly, and he did. Inhale, exhale, stumbling forward. “It’s just me, Joey.”

“You’re the only one who’s ever called me that, y’know?” he whispered, breathlessly. She gave him a little smile, tapping two fingers on his chest. Slowly, his heartbeat matched her rhythm, and he squeezed her wrist once, gently.

“Wanna try that again?” she murmured, tilting her head a little to the side.

“You can kick me out,” he retorted in a mumble, and she sighed. She shifted the hand she was holding, thumb pressing into his wrist, right above his pulse, right above the strap of his watch, while the rest of her fingers spread across the back of his hand.

“And why would I do that?” Joel met her gaze again–awaiting, reassuring, familiar gaze.

“You’ve known me all our lives, Sugar,” she nodded at his heavy sigh. “You’ve seen me fuck everything up, multiple times–Christ, you’ve seen me fuck things up with Sarah’s mother, too,” again she nodded, and he lowered his voice, breath stuttering. “Yet you were always there for me.”

“Of course I was,” with the last nod, she smiled–it was bittersweet, made his heart ache.

“I loved you for that. More than I knew could be possible,” he bowed his head, the tip of his nose brushing hers tentatively. “And I love–I love–I love you still.”

Her exhale was long, fingers curling over his chest and twisting in the fabric of his shirt–he stumbled forward ever so slightly, the hand he had around her wrist falling against her side balancing himself as she brought her lips close to his. Close, without touching, his breath stuttering when her exhale hit his skin.

“You’ve been the best half of my life, Joel,” there was a scratch in her voice that wasn’t there before, words trembling ever so slightly. “You–I’ve always known I loved you. I knew I loved you, I just–I don’t think I ever realized how much until I lost you. Or found you again.”

“Sugar–” she shook her head, humming.

“Not done,” she chided, and he snapped his mouth shut, almost chuckling. “You were my best friend. I’d like to think you still are, even after these awful fucking years because I–I’ve always needed you, Joel,” the hand on his chest shifted upwards slightly, resting at his collarbones. “And I still do. I need you in my life–I need you.”

“You do have me, sweetheart,” he said, hurriedly, pulling back ever so slightly. Her eyes were shimmering, and he wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her close–her hand slid to the side of his neck, lips quivering slightly. He was looking at her lips. “However you want me, you have me.”

“I do love you, even now,” her thumb traced figures eight over his neck with one hand, small circles on his wrist with the other. Soothing. Gentle. Calming. “Whoever it is you think you’ve become now–I love you. I need you to understand that.”

Joel’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened. Closed again, a thin line cutting through his face. She was looking at him as if she could see right through him, pick up the pieces of his hesitation during the months just gone by, and the years before that. Reading him as she’d always done, and speaking directly to his foolish heart, reassuring him–you’ll get through the year, you’ll get through the grief, you’ll be alright, Sarah’ll be alright, we’ll be alright, I love you, I love you, I love you.

“I know,” he hummed, tightening his hold around her. Her body softened into his with a long exhale, the hand rising to his jaw, scratching along his patchy beard. “I’m trying, sweetheart.”

“I know you are,” she cupped his cheek, and in spite of the heat he didn’t mind the warmth radiating from her palm. His eyes fluttered shut. “C’mere.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, his head falling forward against the curve of her neck. He leaned fully into the circle of her arms, reaching out with his other free hand too to keep her close, her back slightly arched towards him, locked together like pieces of a puzzle. Freshly cut grass welcoming him home, he dug his fingertips into her sides and brushed his mouth to her neck–a half kiss, hesitant and tentative. If he got a full taste, he knew he’d want nothing else for as long as he lived.

That was a lie. He already didn’t, couldn’t fathom it.

Slowly, she tipped her head to the side, granting him more space–he could feel her heartbeat quickening under his parted lips, a hiccup in her breath as she dragged her hands up the nape of his neck, fingertips slowly brushing through the locks at the back of his head, guiding him forward and up. He let her guide him, gave her full control as the tip of his nose traced a path up her jaw, cheek, his lips following.

“Are you teasin’, Sugar?” he whispered, rubbing their noses together, and felt her smile rather than saw it. She shook her head, pressing herself impossibly closer as she scratched his scalp gently. “Then I’m gonna need you to tell me what to do next.”

When he opened his eyes, she was looking at him already, so close she was slightly cross-eyed, long lashes kissing the arch of her brows. His own heart beat a little quicker, a little louder, anticipation building in his limbs as he could feel himself burn from within.

“Kiss me,” just a whisper.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

His heart would never be whole again, that much he knew–a part of it had stayed behind, pierced by a bullet, a 20 years old wound. But he could live again, day by day. He could find his way back to life, with his Ellie on one side and–

Joel caught her lips with his own, and it felt like homecoming. Sweet as sugar, he kissed her slow, without rush, as if trying to make up for each year spent apart, and for each year spent together in the wrong way. He held her as if she might shatter and like he would never let her go both, drank greedily each sigh, each whisper, never once parting until his lungs burned, and then kissing her gasps away, too.

#redahlia #be still my foolish heart #pedrostories #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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bullet-clubs-bitch · 6 months

Text

Wardaddy

Summary: Reader finds out she's pregnant after she lost her title at double or nothing. Will the nickname she jokingly gave her boyfriend “Wardaddy” gain a whole other meaning?

An: I found this fit in my drafts, wrote it months ago but for some reason never published it? Enjoy, and pls remember to give Wardlow requests in my inbox

Word count: 1132

Main Masterlist Wardlow Masterlist

The internet was a weird place. You always hated the bird app with all of its negativity and BS but here you were scrolling on twitter after you found out why you were trending.

Your face was shocked when you saw the amount of negative comments regarding your relationship with Wardlow. Sure he was 8 years older than you but for the most part everyone had been supportive of it. It was the AEW locker room who kept trying to set the two of you up for the longest time. You were quite confused on why all of a sudden it was now they were concerned with it. A few months ago you were deemed the power couple of all elite wrestling, on the top of the company both of you holding championships. You had just ended a feud with your real life best friend Britt Baker and her long time boyfriend Adam Cole.

The fans loved it, mixed tag matches were surprisingly uncommon in aew so when they became a regular occurrence in your feud the fans were quick to eat it all up.

Having had enough of social media for the day you stepped into catering for the first time after losing your championship two weeks ago at double or nothing. You ran into Britt who had beat you in a no DQ match for the women's championship.

“Sup, Champ” You called to your friend

“Hey Mama, how’s it going” Britt replied back

“Not much, I'm literally starving. I’ve been oddly hungry the past few days and more bloated than usual.” you said hand on your stomach looking at all of the different options catering had to offer.

Britt laughed, handing you a plate. The two of you got some food before you found somewhere quiet to eat. Far away from all of the cameras and wrestlers. While you enjoyed your food Britt asked you…

“How’s your shoulder doing?”

“It can be better, still hurts like a son of a bitch though” you replied, looking down at your shoulder that had been taped together in a million different ways

“Sorry about that again” She apologized knowing she was the cause of your injury

“Why are you sorry, shit happens.” You said a little bit confused on why she kept apologizing. The injury wasn’t even her fault. You were the one that called out the spot with the steps.

“Medical won’t clear me quite yet, hopefully within the next few weeks or so” you responded oddly calmly, secretly upset you weren't able to compete in the show tonight.

“Good luck out there tonight, tho. I hope you kick Thunder Rosa’s Ass!”

“I will don’t worry” Britt responded laughing

Time skip: 4 weeks later

“Is it still that bad?” Your boyfriend Wardlow called through the door of your hotel bathroom.

“I feel like my insides are falling out” you said in agony clutching your stomach as you threw up whatever you had left in your stomach.

“Can I come in?” he asked nervously

“No! I'm hideous go away” your words laced with venom as they left your lips.

The medical staff had finally cleared you to return on this week's episode of Dynamite but your body had other ideas. You felt like you were dying and your poor boyfriend had no idea what to do. He tried his very best and you appreciated it but it came to the point where you just wanted to be alone. You cleaned up and finally stepped out of the bathroom to be greeted by Wardlow. He handed you some fresh clothes. As you were putting on your shirt you looked down at your stomach.

“Did I gain weight” you said as you looked in the mirror

“I think you look fine Y/N” Wardlow replied annoyed you would ask such a question

“No honestly, I think I did”

“Y/N, your probably just bloated” he replied rolling his eyes

“Whatever” you scoffed

You arrived to the arena, looking and feeling like shit. You decided to stop by the doctor to let them know that you weren't feeling the best, all it took was one of the doctors to look at the dark circles under your eyes and pale look in your skin to deem you uncleared for the show tonight. It made you feel like shit, working hard with physios to get your shoulder better only to catch some bug before your return. Thankfully Britt wasn’t booked for the show tonight so the two of you could hang out and watch the show from one of the skyboxes in the arena.

“So you are still not feeling good?” Britt asked, curiously

“Yep, I don’t know how this is even possible but I feel like I’m getting worse” You told her truthfully.

“When was the last time you got your period?” Britt asked, shit, you never even thought about that

“Ummm maybe a few months ago”

“Have you ever thought that you might be pregnant?”

“I mean we are careful but that would explain a lot of things”

“Since we both have nothing to do, how bout we leave the arena, grab a few tests and we can go back to the hotel and see. I’m sure you don’t want to take a test in the locker room with all those nosey people”

That is exactly what the two of you did, you told your respective partners to meet back at the hotel and let everyone else know that you would be hedging out for the evening. You and Brit ended up getting four different kinds of tests and a few goodies to bring back to the hotel. Unfortunately a fan recognized the two of you at the CVS that just so happened to be next to your hotel. Lying, you said the pregnancy tests were for a segment for the next BTE, now you somehow would have to tell the bucks to include some kind of skit involving pregnancy tests in next week's episode to keep true to your lie.

Currently you and Britt sat on top of the hotel bed, munching on some chips as you both stared at the blinking screen of the pregnancy test. “How long is this going to take? I feel like we have been sitting here forever” You asked Britt. “According to this it says 5 minutes” Britt responded.

Just then the test stopped flashing. ‘Pregnant 4-6 weeks’

You and Britt had no idea what to say, the two of you in shock at what you were seeing. You were first to break the silence “This has to be wrong. No way I’m pregnant”

Sure enough you were pregnant. You took 5 more to make sure, all 6 tests saying the same thing. What was Wardlow going to think?

#bullet clubs bitch #aew smut #all elite wrestling #aew #aew fanfiction #wardlow x reader #wardlow aew #wardlow fanfiction #wardaddy #wardlow #wardlow smut

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nori-writes · 1 year

Note

Hii! I was wondering if you could do either headcanons or a small fic for; Cassidy with a chubby fem s/o? It could go from how they met to the established relationship but anything would be great ^^

Cassidy x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Cassidy x Reader

W/C: 850+

A/N: Oh my god! Thank you so much for the request, I would love to write more like this! I really hope I did your ideas justice. One last thing, while writing this I did also write an angst/comfort that goes along with this fic, I’ll be posting that soon! (also I don’t know how far into the future OW2 is after OW1 disbanded, I’ve seen some places say only a year and others say 2-3 years, for the sake of this we’re going to say 2-3 years) Tysm anon!

You guys met between Overwatch 1 and 2!

He met you in a small bar at night.

When you guys met you were sat alone at the bar.

He is flirty, but a gentleman of course, he asked to sit next to you,

You said yes

Why wouldn’t you

“What is such a lovely lady doing sitting here all alone?” A gruff voice said behind you. As you turned around you were met with a man who looked to be about six foot with a cowboy appearance which held a smile, that of which you returned.

“I just came out alone, needed some time to myself, you’re open to sit here though, as long as you aren’t a creep,” You let out with a little laugh at the end.

He held a hand to his chest taking an offended look to his face, “Me? A creep, never,” He said, removing his hat and taking his seat next to you, “I’m Cassidy, Cole Cassidy.”

“Y/N L/N,”

Cassidy held a glass in his hand taking a sip, “Quite the beautiful name that fits a beautiful person.”

You felt your face heat up at his comment, “You’re hilarious, but I don’t know about all that cowboy.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, scanning it before quickly finishing his drink, “I’m sorry to quickly cut this off but, I’ve gotta go. But, it’s been lovely meeting you even if it wasn’t for long. Would ya mind if I asked for your number?”

Who were you to say no? “Of course,” you said with a smile, pulling out an old receipt from your purse and a pen, writing your number on the back of it, and handing it to him.

He gave you a quick smile thanking you before heading on his way, not forgetting to text you that night.

After you guys talk for awhile you learn about Overwatch and such

You guys also finally go out!!!!

You choose where you want to go on a first date, he’s totally down for anything you want to do.

He is literally the perfect significant other after you two are together for a while.

He loves contact with you, cuddling? No need to ask, he’s already there.

He loves laying on your stomach, thighs, anywhere and everywhere he just loves it.

He can and will cup your face for the lil smoosh look (That’s the best i can describe it i hope that makes sense)

He finds it absolutely adorable!

Ever upset about how you look? He will literally sit there for hours talking about how much he loves every single atom of your body.

He would kiss your body up and down if that’s what he needed to do to get his point across to you.

Don’t even get him started with pet names, Pumpkin, darlin’, sweetheart, doll, sugar, and so so so many more

PDA? Yes. Your his, nobody else’s, he’s gotta let everyone know

He doesn’t get jealous, just protective

He totally gets jealous

By the time Overwatch is back together you guys have been together for a couple years.

You’re not an agent but you two do still live together.

It is canon that Cassidy loves chubbiness and you cannot argue, it’s final.

Your eyes slowly drifted open from the feeling of a pair of arms being wrapped around you and Cassidy’s resting figure flooding into your sight. All you could do was appreciate mornings like this. Mornings where Cole was home, he was in no rush to leave or get ready. It was just you and him.

You took in his figure, his silky chocolate brown hair in a bedhead type state with an ethereal expression, you wished you could stay like this forever. Moments like these only to be interrupted by the growling of your stomach.

As you tried to make your way out of bed you realised that Cassidy’s arms still had their hold around your body. You gave Cole a small little shake, attempting to wake him up, a hum to be let out as his eyes opened immediately fixating his gaze onto you.

“Will you let you out please?” You asked with pleading eyes, much to no avail.

The male let out a groan before a deep, gravely morning voice of his tiredly spoke, “Five more minutes…” The end of his words trailed off as sleep began to take over him again.

You shook him again this time with a whine attached, “Baby please, I’m hungry. I’ll come right back, I promise,” You wiggled but his grip around you only tightened at your attempts.

“Five more minutes sweetheart, then you can go get whatever food you want, alright?”

You nodded to his words, “But only five,” you said, finally agreeing, “no more than that.”

Content with your answer Cole found his head laid onto your chest. However, you knew five minutes was never only five minutes. But, a couple extra minutes in the morning with your lover never killed anyone.

If you enjoyed, my master list as always is here 💜

#cassidy overwatch #overwatch #overwatch imagines #overwatch fluff #overwatch fanfiction #mcree overwatch #overwatch fic #overwatch x you #overwatch mccree #overwatch x reader #jesse mcree #jesse mccree #cole cassidy #overwatch cassidy #cassidy x reader #mcree x reader #mccree x reader

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fablesrose · 1 month

Text

Ch 13 - The Runway Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: With Tara being a new crew member, they take to the runway at Fashion Week to get back at local sweatshop owners.

Words: 4562

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

Before the next job we, minus Tara and Nate, video called Sophie.

“He says he’s cool with it, but you know how he is,” Hardison said.

“And the way she introduced herself?” Parker said, “That was a smooth con.”

Eliot shook his head, “Yeah, but it didn’t exactly build trust.”

I nodded along, agreeing with what they were saying, but I didn’t have much to add. To be honest, I still wasn’t sure how I felt about Tara and her being here.

“Look,” Sophie said, “We didn’t get along when we first started… Eliot, how long did it take before you trusted me?”

I heard Eliot deliberately take in a breath.

“Eliot? You do trust me, don’t you?”

“That’s not the point, Sophie,” he deflected. “If Nate doesn’t like this chick, then it’s not gonna work.” I noticed that his southern accent slipped to be a bit thicker as he replied a bit flustered.

“Yeah, which is why you have to get him on board,” Sophie replied. “Look, you need a grifter. The last time one of you tried to grift,” she looked around and lowered her voice, “you wound up kidnapped by Russians.”

I cleared my throat and sent a pointed look towards Hardison. Eliot and Parker made their accusations more vocally. Hardison did not seem to appreciate it, but he deserved it.

“Listen to me,” Sophie redirected, “Tara Cole is the best. I wouldn’t have sent her if I didn’t trust her, and I know you’re gonna love her, so… Just give her a chance.”

Eliot turned to Hardison, “She is hot.”

“Very hot,” Hardison agreed.

I waved my head in mild agreement, because she was, but rolled my eyes at their necessity to point it out.

“Hot,” Parker said. We all gave her a look. That was not the expected response from her. She caught onto the tension quickly, “Cold? Why are we staring?”

Sophie moved on, “Yeah, I’m not saying to throw her at him, I’m just saying get him on board. He doesn’t always know what’s good for him, and if he does, he doesn’t do anything about it!” She was clearly getting frustrated, “He just lets it walk straight out the door, and…”

I nodded in agreement as she ranted. He did tend to do that.

“Like… all the way to Europe?” Eliot asked with a swing in his voice.

Sophie gave us a soft smile, “Just do it for me, alright? So I don’t have to worry about you.”

Nate and Tara walked in the door then, so Hardison and Eliot scampered away because we all knew damn well that we weren’t supposed to call Sophie. Parker and I stayed put for a moment longer.

“I just miss you,” Parker said.

“And she’ll never be you,” I added before Sophie logged off with a soft smile, before Nate could see.

We then all sat down in the living room, Parker tossing the remote to Hardison, and Nate predictably standing in the front of the room.

“Okay, run it.”

“Gloria and Russel Pan,” Hardison began. “Self made millionaires, they built their fortune off a company that produces cheap knock offs of the latest fashions.”

“The bargain bin has been pretty good to them, I’d say, with, you know, the nice car, giant house in the rich neighborhood, etcetera etcetera,” I added since I helped do a bit of research. “Gloria works in the factory making the designs. Russel is the business side of things, accounting, and works with the partners in China.”

“Okay, Gloria designs the clothes. Does she have any training?” Nate asked.

“She did a correspondence course with a fashion school,” Hardison answered. “And she subscribes to all the magazines: Vogue, InStyle, Fashion & Style…”

“She submitted to Project Runway,” I said.

“Last year?” Parker asked.

“Last three years,” Hardison corrected.

“Okay,” Nate said with finality, “That’s our way in. We’re gonna sell, Gloria Pan…” Nate pointed to Tara.

“Her dream,” she answered. “Yeah, no, I get it.” She stood up to stand at the front of the room next to Nate, “I mean, the word ‘con’ comes from confidence, right? So we gotta build her confidence, make her think she’s the greatest designer in the world.”

“There you go,” Nate commented.

“How?” Eliot asked gruffly.

“How?” Nate paused, and smiled. “We need a Caprina.” Then he walked away in his usual fashion.

“What does that mean?” Tara asked, watching as he walked away, “So he just says things and walks away?”

“Yeah…” Parker said.

“That’s something you’re gonna have to get used to, I’m afraid,” I mentioned.

Tara looked at me, somewhat confused, “How did you turn out normal?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but wasn’t sure how to, so shut it again. Was that a compliment? A back handed one?

“She’s a survivor,” Eliot answered for me, with a smile.

Parker and Hardison stood and left, in a somewhat Nate fashion. Eliot stretched out a bit, placing his arms on the back of the couch, one of them behind me. Tara still looked confused about the whole situation, but left without another word.

I turned to Eliot, “Thanks.”

He glanced at me, “No problem.” There was a beat of silence before he reached for the remote that Hardison had tossed on the couch. “Let’s see what games are on.”

“Ah, got a juice up on some manly stuff before all the fashion stuff for the job?” I laughed.

“Please, I thought you liked sports,” he scoffed, “besides, like you’re into all the fashion stuff anyway.”

“I mean, sometimes,” I tried to defend.

He deliberately looked me up and down, “Uh huh, your clothes are probably between five to ten years old.”

“Ah ha!” I exclaimed as if I had caught him, “This t-shirt? Vintage.”

He laughed, “Uh huh, yeah, really proving your point there, sweetheart.”

I gave a playful ‘whatever’ to which he nudged me.

“Shut up and watch, they’re about to score.”

Later, we had to set up a little photo studio in the corner. Parker took pictures of Tara in some clearly fashion-y clothes and I photoshopped her onto a Fashion & Style magazine cover. I sent it over to Hardison to do the final formatting where he printed it off and actually made the physical magazine. It was a nice little assembly line.

Parker then was able to strategically plant the magazine in the Pans’ house, setting up some cameras while she was there. We were able to watch as Gloria discovered Tara as Caprina to be the next big fashion designer through the magazine and the various voiceovers we added to celebrity news channels.

Eliot and Tara went to set the hook and invite Gloria to Fashion Week. It was deemed successful, leading us to prepare for sneaking in ourselves. Parker, understandably, did not want to play dress-up, so she went in as a production assistant, slipping our passes and names on the guest list. She was also there to swipe anything, if need be.

The rest of us dressed up to be fashion people, with Nate going particularly crazy with small round glasses, fingerless gloves, and a red fan. Hardison just went with a classic shirt and jacket that was deliberately untidy with some fur additions, and Tara with an all black ensemble. I used the occasion as an excuse to buy something a little nicer and a bit frilly. I normally couldn’t justify myself buying something like this, but I liked it and thought I would use it beyond just this job should the opportunity arise.

I walked into fashion week next to Eliot who wore his hair down, glasses and a white shirt with plenty of accessories. I could tell his eyes were lingering on the models which didn’t bother me as much as I would have thought. I mean, who could blame him? I wasn’t sure why I was thinking about this anyway, it’s not like I wanted any attention anyway.

We set ourselves up next to a runway where some models were practicing their walks, Tara occasionally speaking up to ‘correct’ something. Eliot brought Gloria over and everyone was introduced. Hardison and I were fashion magazine editors and Nate was Caprina’s sponsor. Gloria handed over her designs for Hardison and I to look over.

“Oh no no no,” Nate cried after reading a text.

“What what?” Tara asked.

“My young designer who was going to be at the newcomer showcase at the end of fashion week, arrested!”

“Drugs in the car?” Hardison asked simply.

“No, hooker in the hotel.”

“That is unfortunate,” I commented, looking over Hardison’s shoulder as he thumbed through Gloria’s portfolio.

“He was to be my great discovery,” Nate lamented. “I don’t know what to do. What that boy could do with a buckle…”

I noticed Gloria perk up beside us. What a coincidence that every one of her designs incorporated heinous amounts of buckles.

Nate continued to have a meltdown of what in the world he was going to do while the rest of us quietly encouraged him to have Gloria take the spot. He finally agreed to see some of her other designs, so off Nate, Tara, and Eliot went to the factory with Gloria. Hardison decided to go back to the apartment at this point, back to run all the technical stuff. I decided to stick around Fashion Week for a bit, learning, wandering, just in case something came up.

Everybody was running around rushing to make sure everything was perfect and in order for the upcoming shows. I quietly took note of what fashions I liked and disliked and which designer’s areas to avoid. I eventually found a quiet corner to people-watch, opening up the sketchbook I brought to finish the character. I absentmindedly doodled and sketched while also listening through comms to the others at Gloria’s office, trying to close the deal. That was until a PA walked up to me with a can of sparkling water.

“Here’s that drink you ordered,” he said, offering it to me.

I shook my head, “Oh no, I didn’t order anything.”

“Well, take it anyway,” he insisted.

“You better get that to whoever actually ordered it, I personally don’t want to witness another meltdown,” I replied, shuddering as I remembered what some of the designers were doing in their stress.

“What if I said that I lied and just wanted an excuse to talk to you?”

That stopped me. I looked at him curiously. He was wearing all black like the rest of the PAs, and relatively good looking. Nothing like the models walking around, but nothing to scoff at either.

I hesitantly took the can from him, “Okay…”

“Does he need to be scared off?” Eliot asked through comms.

“Sorry,” the PA said, “that probably came off a bit strange.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied to both of them. “I’m a little surprised you’re not rushing around like everyone else.”

“There’s a little break with my responsibilities for a minute. I could say the same to you though.”

“Different priorities, I’m in between editorial appointments,” I replied easily, just keeping with my cover, “Not enough time to go anywhere though.”

He nodded. There was a beat before he said, “I, uh, like your look. And it doesn’t seem like you’re as pompous as most of the people walking around here. ”

I quickly straightened my clothes a little, “Oh, thank you. It’s a bit simple,” I said, referring to some of the other looks I saw walking around.

“And better than a lot of stuff here. Unfortunately for them-” he paused, listening to his headset. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

I checked the time, “No worries, I should go too. Thanks for this,” I said, raising the drink.

He nodded and smiled before running away to do whatever was needed.

I smiled to myself, looking myself over. Maybe I did okay after all. Eliot took my spot at Fashion Week not long after. He came over after dropping the money off with Hardison. I was gathering my stuff to leave when he approached me.

“Hey, everything okay?” I asked him once he arrived.

“Yeah, it’s great,” he replied quickly. “That guy…” He trailed off as if fishing for info.

“He was fine,” I assured.

“Good. Good,” he slid his hands in his pockets. “I did want to say, earlier, that you look nice.”

I smiled, not hiding the blush that rose to my cheeks, I was sure, but it could be attributed to the warm atmosphere with the stage lights and everyone running around. “Thanks, you look pretty good yourself.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked down at his outfit, “Really? I’m not sure about, uh… any of this… fashion stuff.”

“Could have fooled me,” I nudged him as I walked past him to leave, “and try not to flirt with too many models, okay?”

I heard as he stuttered a bit behind me, but didn’t actually answer.

I got back to Nate’s apartment around the same time everyone else did. Apparently Tara and Nate had a fight over how much money to squeeze out of the Pans’, a tension I could almost feel in the room. Nate demanded the earbud back from her right before he took Parker to follow up on a phone call Gloria left for Nate that abruptly cut off. They went to the Pans’ house, and Eliot was told to leave Fashion Week and check out the factory. He was not happy.

“What did I say about the models, Eliot?” I said.

He sighed, “Just… whatever, I’m going.”

Hardison and I stayed at the apartment, checking where Gloria might have moved funds and her car GPS.

Tara went to leave since she wasn’t doing anything here.

“Hey,” I said before she walked out, “Sorry about Nate. He just likes to know all the factors and angles. He just doesn’t know you yet. Not that it’s an excuse.”

She just gave a nod at me before leaving. She had an unreadable expression which I didn’t think much about.

Hardison started tracking the Pans’ car right when Nate and Parker arrived at their house. The car was pulling away when we heard an explosion on comms. It was loud enough that we determined it was the house since the car was still driving.

Nate groaned, “Okay, what do we know?”

“Someone targeted the Pans,” Parker replied loudly. Their ears were probably ringing.

“Yeah, I’m with you on that.”

“And the silver sedan that pulled out right before the explosion, it belongs to the Pans. I recognize it.”

“So, either they got away, or the people who did this got away in the Pans’ car, and the Pans didn’t. Uh, Hardison-”

“Already on it,” Hardison responded. “The Pans’ car just got on the I-95 heading south.”

“Okay, I need to see who’s in the car. Can you get me a visual?”

“Do I look like I have a helicopter?”

“A simple yes or no,” Nate said.

“I might, might be able to get a photo of a traffic camera, but… I would have to time it just right based on the car’s rate of speed.”

“Listen to me, a car’s driving eighty miles an hour, how long does it take to get to a camera a mile away, seventh grade algebra, Hardison.”

Hardison rolled his eyes and looked at me.

“Yeah, I never got a break in math,” I replied. “But there’s multiple cameras right? You can get a couple chances?”

Hardison tilted his head side to side, somewhat agreeing with me.

“The husband said they had partners,” Nate said softer.

“Forty-five seconds,” Parker responded.

“What?” Nate asked.

“That’s the answer, forty-five seconds.”

“Oh…”

While Hardison worked on getting the timing right, Eliot piped in from the factory.

“Nate, I got bank statements here listing Sunbright Holdings as a joint account holder with the Pans’…” He trailed off.

“Can you show me that?” Tara’s voice came through the comms.

“Oh, that’s where she went,” I said, mostly to myself.

“What’s she doing there?” Nate asked.

“Wait, tell Nate that I know these corporate ID prefix is from Shanghai!” She shouted through the comms, making them squeal.

“They pick up,” Eliot said through gritted teeth, “you don’t have to yell!”

“Just tell him.”

I was working on my laptop that was linked with some of Hardison’s software where I pulled up the camera feed from the cameras we planted there. “Hey, I’ve got the camera feed before the explosion… There’s quite a few guys there, here, I’ll send it to you.”

“Who’s planting that bomb?” Nate asked. “Eliot, Tara, get out of there!”

I heard all four of them start to dash off before Eliot said, “Nate, I’ve got three guys here.”

I turned to Hardison to see if he knew what was going on and who we were dealing with, but he was focused on his own computer.

“Armed with cleavers,” Eliot continued. “That’s the signature of The Triad.”

“The Triads, yeah, we’re a minute away,” Nate responded.

“The Chinese Triads?” Parker asked.

“Yeah, they control the global counterfeit clothing market,” Nate explained. “Worth billions to them, even more than narcotics.”

“So we didn’t take money from the Pans, we took money from these guys, is what I’m hearing,” I said.

“And the last person holding their cash, was Eliot,” Nate said.

I listened to comms as Eliot tried to keep Tara safe, which she didn’t appreciate, but it sounded like they both took care of themselves. At least, I didn’t hear any painful noises from them.

“Nate, I just got a shot of the Pans’ car,” Hardison said as he pulled it up on the big screen. “Gloria’s traveling solo. I guess Russell didn’t make it out, the poor bastard got blown to bits.”

“Yeah, Russell Pan handles the finances,” Nate said. “Did you do a full background check on Russell Pan?” He then instructed Parker to stay behind, to be the getaway car.

“Of course we did,” Hardison assured. He listed all the documents and data we got on him to prove that he is Russell Pan.

“Yeah, but did we make sure that Russell Pan isn’t anybody else as well?”

I looked at Hardison, to distinguish between the two. He sighed an ‘ah, hell,’ before pulling up facial recognition. I guess it was to not just search for names, because that could narrow the search too much, and miss something.

When the facial recognition finished, I swore to myself.

“Guys, guys, I just got a hit on an Interpol database,” Hardison said. “Russell Pan’s face matches a Nicholas Chow, Chinese national, works for the Sun Yee On Triad, counterfeit clothing, blackmarket, he’s known for burying his enemies alive. This is a bad dude.”

I looked back at my computer, trying to think if there was anything else I could do to help when I watched the camera feed again. “Uh, one other thing,” I said as I watched, “I don’t think he’s dead.” Hardison looked over at my screen. “He was there when the bomb was planted, like, helping.”

“No kidding,” Nate said, presumably as or after he entered the factory where more members of the Triad were. He switched into his character’s accent when greeting everyone, and softly commented that they had guns. “The last time I saw you we were here for business meeting with your wife. Yah, this is all big misunderstanding?”

“That cow of a wife gave you something of mine,” Russell said. “Fifty thousand dollars U.S.”

“Yah, this was for a show,” Nate said, “This was business, eh.”

“Twenty years,” Russell said exasperatedly, “I carried her. I brought over the cheap labor from China, I supplied the Asian markets, all she had to do was copy the fashions. No, you sold the woman a ridiculous dream. So I had to get rid of her.”

“What a douchebag,” I said before I could stop myself. Hardison gave me a look. “You know, along with being a murderous criminal and all that.”

“Now, I’m responsible to my superiors for that money,” Russell continued, obviously not hearing my comment. “Where is it?”

“Guys, sit tight,” Hardison said, grabbing the bundle of money that Gloria gave us, “Tell Chow, or Pan–pot skillet– whatever his name is, that is money is on the way, it’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Well, uh, we don’t have the money,” Nate said instead. “The money is gone, yah, we spent it on the vendors for Gloria’s show, yah.”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Hardison then emphasized, “I’m on my way, with the money.”

“Yah, and there’s no reason to do anything, or go anywhere because, puh, the money is gone,” he repeated.

“I think he heard you loud and clear,” I said to Hardison, not liking this situation any better than he did. “Nate, come on, what are you doing?”

Russell gave an order, in presumably Chinese, and Nate started to backtrack a little bit.

“Listen to me one second before, what if I was able to give you something worth much more than the fifty thousand dollars, what if I was able to give you the designs for next fall’s collections today? Yah, that’s right. Get your factories turning out knockoffs way before the competition. This would be worth millions to you in additional revenue, millions!”

I could tell Nate was thinking very hard to make this work, his accent wasn’t as thick as before, but luckily he was able to keep up the act as it seemed to catch Russell’s interest.

“And how are you going to do this?”

“We have access to the Fashion Week, uh, shows. I mean, I can get you Julian to steal a major designer’s designs,” Nate offered up Eliot to steal it.

“So, I let you go,” Russell seemed to laugh, “you run to the police, and I get nothing! No deal.”

I paced the floor as Nate tried to say something to save it when Tara offered herself as collateral, which Nate quickly refused. He tried to reason that he wouldn’t go to the police, we had no evidence, we couldn’t escape them anyway, etc etc.

Unfortunately, Russell agreed to keep Tara anyway in exchange for the designs. He gave Nate one hour.

“I’m telling you,” Tara said, “get him what he wants. It’s just fifty grand, huh? That’s what this is about, five oh, capish? Five oh.”

“Yah…” Nate said hesitantly, “Julien, let’s go, uh…”

Hardison and I waited until everyone got back, without Tara.

“We could have just given Russell the money,” Hardison said.

“If we had given him the money,” Nate replied, “we would have gone back to the client with nothing.”

“Cuz that’s what it’s about,” Eliot said, “a chance to run a con on the Triads on the fly. You put Tara’s life in danger to take down a bigger target.”

“Listen, it’s one thing for Florence and those other women to owe money to some local sweatshop. You want them in debt to the Triads the rest of their lives?” Nate asked.

“You wouldn’t have left Sophie there,” Parker pointed out.

“Listen, I know what I’m doing,” Nate insisted, “I got it under control, alright? We have less than an hour, we need some designer’s plans, we gotta get-”

“Hold on,” Hardison said as he typed on his computer. “Okay, there’s one show left today, Andre V has a hip hop couture line.”

“Great, perfect,” Nate pointed at Eliot, Parker, and I, “go get those plans.”

We didn’t have to be told twice as we dashed off, back to Fashion Week. Unfortunately for us, because of a ‘security breach’ earlier, we couldn’t get in without IDs. According to the chick at the security checkpoint, the only things getting through were models and clothes. Which led us to where we were now, arguing about clothes.

Parker couldn’t get over the impracticality of them as a thief, but finally offered up a black piece of clothing with red-ish orange trim.

“The A-line drape of the empire waist is nice, but the neckline is a little weak,” Eliot rattled off. “If you ask me,” he added once he caught Parker and I’s looks.

“I thought you weren’t into all this fashion stuff,” I said.

“Hey, I dated a lot of models. A lot of private fashion shows, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, yes,” Parker said, continuing to flip through clothes.

Eliot continued to give sexual innuendos that Parker and I rebuffed until we both walked away to a different rack when we couldn’t take anymore. I finally found something that fit some of her criteria enough to get her changed and backstage.

“Why can’t you come too?” She asked as I rushed her through.

“Because I don’t have an ID and I think I would hinder you more than help, let me know if you need help and I can figure out a way in or make a distraction out here or something, now go!” I pushed her through to blend in with a couple other models heading where Parker needed to go.

She was able to get the flash drive into the computer, but before all the files were uploaded, she got swept up into actually being a model. I helped conceal Eliot in a clothes rack to retrieve the drive as Parker was walking the runway, but not without an incident on her part. Luckily that didn’t stop us from being successful.

We brought the drive to Nate and Hardison at the factory. Hardison took it and worked some magic, I was sure before handing it to Nate to give to Russell. Nate stepped out of the van and prepped himself before going in.

“Hey,” Eliot stopped him, “if this thing starts going off the rails, don’t wait. Call us in.”

Nate nodded, “Chow is primed, I can handle him.”

“I’m not talking about him.”

“She’s a pro, she knows what to do,” Nate insisted before heading into the factory.

I still had a nervous feeling in my gut despite his supposed confidence, but I seemed to always have that feeling at the tipping point of the con. I, of course, had nothing to worry about as Nate handed over the designs, Russell saw them, unknowingly sent Gloria’s design to all of his factories, courtesy of Hardison, and called the cops. The cops arrested Russell for being wanted by Interpol, also revealed courtesy of Hardison, and let Nate go once he showed them his Interpol badge.

“Okay, no earpiece,” Parker said to Tara, “How did you tell Nate you were gonna do the cop scam?”

Tara recalled when she told Nate that it was fifty grand, “five oh.”

“Five oh? Cops?” Eliot asked, “That was all it took?”

“Some people just know how to communicate,” Nate said.

“I finally learned how to speak his language,” Tara said. “Cryptic clues, slogans, and code.”

We all shared a small laugh and smile that everything came out okay by communicating of all things. It all turned out for the best, our client got the money to help her parents come over to the States, the factory came under new supervision which was much better for all of its workers, and I think we could now work as a team.

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader

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writingsofwesteros · 2 years

Note

Could you write for Harwin strong and reader how Cole humiliates reader who is Rhaenyra maid but Harwin love makes her feel better smut please ❤️

AN: Hi, I hope you like it. Sorry there wasn’t as much smut :(

“Princess, do you need anything else?” You whispered into the room as you curtised. Rhaenyra had come down with a cold that seemed to have taken her a while to get over. You had been tasked with keeping watch. It was something she appreciated as you read books to her throughout the night.

“I’m good.” She softly whispered with a cough. Rhaenyra moved to sit up and you easily stepped closer. “I should get you some water.” You whispered mostly to yourself whilst moving the damp cloth onto the Princess’s forehead. Your fingers slowly moved through her locks as sweat began to soak them.

“Please..” The Princess whispered as she tried to smile up at you. “Of course.” You hummed and picked up the now empty jug beside her. You placed the blanket back around her and she gave you a tired smile in thanks. You moved to stand and straightened your dress as you moved to the door.

A soft hum escaped you as you tried to keep yourself awake. The long nights hardly gave you any time to rest. It was because of this that you hardly thought of where you were going as a soft yawn escaped you. You didn’t look where you were going when Criston purposely stepped in your way.

A soft gasp escaped you when a large body hit you. The glass jug you held so gently fell to the floor in pieces. “I’m sorry.” You babbled out and your eyes locked onto the dark ones of the Queen’s guard. Your heart raced as slight fear moved inside you. You weren’t even sure why you felt that way.

You moved to apologise again as you softly gulped. “Are you going to pick that up?” Criston coldly asked. “Yes..of course..I’ll.” You began to babble now as your heart pounded into your ears. “I didn’t ask you to talk to me.” The knight near enough snarled and you had to bite back a whimper.

You slowly moved to kneel down and gently reached towards the broken glass. Criston enjoyed seeing you in that position a little too much. A soft whimper did escape you when your finger cut the glass. “Gods, are you completely stupid?” He snarled to you and you could only duck your head once more.

“No..” You whispered out, hardly above a whilst as you moved to collect more of the glass on the floor. “I knew you were a shit, Cole but this is beneath you.” The familiar deep voice of Harwin came from behind you. You continued to pick up the glass before a larger hand moved over your own.

“Ser.” You whispered but he shook his head and took the glass from your hand. “Y/N..I’ll collect this.” You ducked your head and moved to stand. “Gods, you can’t even do that right.” Criston continued his taunts. “I’m so..” You began to babble when Harwin easily moved to his feet. “You don't need to apologise.”

You blushed and for once Criston didn’t speak. He only huffed with the roll of his eyes and turned away. Your heart still raced in the slight fear you held for the man. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” You turned to Harwin whose eyes only stared at the back of the Knight as he finally moved from view.

“No..no he didn’t hurt me.” You babbled out and brought your injured hand towards your chest. “Let me see.” You watched how his large hands gently moved to take your own. “It needs to be cleaned.” Harwin whispered as his thumb slowly stroked your palm. Your heart began to race at being so close.

“I’ll go..” You began to speak when he softly shook his head. “No, I can’t have you on your own.” His words had your heart warming. “Thank you.” You whispered as he linked arms with you whilst you tried to calm the little crush you had on Harwin. Well, could anyone blame you, you thought to yourself.

“Of course. Couldn’t have a pretty lady like yourself all alone.” Harwin whispered down at you. “I’m no Lady.” His larger hand moved to your lower back and guided you into his chambers. “You are to me.” Those words had you blushing as you nibbled nervously on your bottom lip before following him.

Your eyes subtly looked around his room in interest. His soft smirk told you that he noticed the stares. Your eyes moved over his muscled back as he moved around the room for bandages. “Sit.” You shivered at his tone and tried to keep your desires at bay. You gracefully moved to sit down.

You followed and felt the butterflies rising in your stomach once more as you settled down. He finally found what he needed. Those dark eyes of his locked onto you as he moved to kneel down. He so gently took your hand in his. “You don’t have to do this.” You whispered out shyly as you looked down.

“I want to.” Harwin locked eyes with you with a soft smile as he gently as possible began to clean your wound. The silence that moved past you both wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. You watched as he bandaged your finger before he teasingly brought it to his lips and kissed you.

A soft gasp escaped you at such an action but his smile only widened. “You think I don’t see your stares?” You blushed and your own eyes widened. “Shh, I like them.” Harwin whispered and gently leaned in. You whimpered when your lips finally touched. He gently pushed you back onto the bed.

He crawled on top of you as you looped your arms around his neck; deepening the kiss as your tongues met. Your hands eagerly moved to his chest as you stroked him up and down; enjoying this a little too much. Gods, you couldn’t believe this was happening but you didn’t want it to end.

He leaned in and hotly mouthed at your neck as his larger hands moved under the dress you wore. Goosebumps littered your soft skin as you whimpered out. His hand moved to cup your breast. Your legs fell apart as he settled in between. “I stare at you too.” Harwin whispered into your ear.

You could only hum happily in his ear at that news as his large cock moved against your soaked pussy. Of course he’d be so big, you thought and tightened your hold on him. “Shh, little lamb.” He purred and took your lips once more. He took your distraction to slowly push inside you. The stretch was painful and delicious; all wrapped up in pleasure that soon came.

#harwin strong x reader #request

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farity · 1 year

Text

First Night, part 2

Pairing: aemond targaryen x unnamed ofc

Warnings: history of sexual trauma, i.e. aemond being dragged to a brothel by aegon.

Summary: the repercussions of a traumatic event when he was 13 come full circle on Aemond’s wedding night.

Part 1

She awoke to find him gone. She wasn’t surprised, after all her wedding night had been different from anything she had expected.

Her ladies came in to prepare her bath and change the bedsheets, so she let them ask her how she was feeling and if she was sore, and they added petals and oils to the bath, so when she stepped in it was like stepping into a hot, fragrant spring.

The mark on her palm had closed overnight, she’d thrown the stained napkin into the fire as soon as she’d woken, and she let the ladies flutter around her, washing her hair, telling her that she might already be with child, and how they were glad the prince had not been harsh with her.

If they only knew.

“By the way,” she asked casually, “where is Prince Aemond?”

Training, they told her. Odd, after his first married night he might have lingered in bed with his new bride, but she shrugged it off, saying he’d been training for years and she hadn’t expected him to change his ways for her.

When she was dressed and her skin still pink from her bath, she headed to the lists, and found a spot where she could sit and watch Cristen Cole sparring with the prince.

Aemond was fascinating to watch. So agile and dexterous, he moved with a grace honed from years of practice, and when he drew his blade to within an inch of Ser Cristen’s neck, everyone watching clapped. Ser Cristen patted Aemond on the back and both men began walking towards the doors that led to the kitchens, when he noticed her.

“Husband!” she said brightly, walking over and giving him a small curtsy. He bowed to her and offered her his arm. “Did you have a good training session?”

“I did, although I am afraid I am in need of a wash now,” he said, apologetically.

She smiled, and they walked towards their chamber. He seemed to be in a good mood, and although she knew that at some point they would need to discuss some things, she was content enough to let things be for now.

“I will have a bath prepared if you wish.”

“Thank you, wife,” he said quietly, then took her hand and turned it over, examining the wound. “How is it?”

She smiled up at him. “I am very well, thank you,” she leaned in and whispered. “Would it be too bold for me to kiss your cheek?”

“I believe that is entirely appropriate.”

Going up on the tips of her toes, she kissed his cheek and watched the corner of his mouth rise a little.

Once in their chamber, she sat by the balcony with her embroidery while he began removing his training gear. “Would you like me to help you?”

“I can manage,” he replied, “but I thank you for the offer.”

* * * * *

Aemond let the hot water soothe his sore muscles, and turned to gaze at his wife. She was facing the gardens, working on her needlework, and he wanted to thank her, to tell her, to let her know.

When he was done and dressed in clean clothes, he joined her near the balcony. “Thank you.”

She turned to him, and he appreciated that she didn’t for one moment pretend not to know what he meant. She smiled up at him. “I am your wife, Aemond, I will always be on your side.”

“I am most grateful for that. I have not always been able to rely on those who should have been on my side.”

“I am sorry for it.”

He leaned down, reached under her chin, tipping her face up to his, and pressed his lips against hers. Her lips were soft, velvety, delicate. She made a little noise and he began tracing her lower lip with the tip of his tongue, then remembered.

The older one, pushing her tongue in his mouth, making him touch her tongue with his, the hot tears burning behind his eye, and he pushed away, his wife sitting there wide-eyed, her hands still on her lap, and he felt embarrassed.

He left without another word, meaning to spend the afternoon in the library.

* * * * *

She didn’t know what had happened to Aemond, but someone had obviously hurt him. It was a different hurt than the attack from his cousins. One had taken his eye, but the other had taken part of his spirit and left shame in its stead.

There was no one she could ask, no one she could confide in, and she thought, at least he seems to want to try. He had started to take her to bed last night, and he had initiated the kiss just now. She would cling to that, not push, but nurture the little embers of hope she felt. Something was stopping him, something would suddenly cause him to push her away.

She was patient. She could wait.

* * * * *

It was time for the evening meal when Aemond saw his wife entering the library. “Husband,” she said gently, “will you be dining with the family or should I have food brought to you here?”

She must be so bewildered, he thought, yet she was kind and cheerful around him. “Where will you be dining?”

“Well,” she considered his question. “That depends on whether you wish me to dine with you. If you wish to dine with the family, I should wish to join you. If you wish to dine here, alone, then I will eat my meal in our chamber. I truly do not wish to trouble you.”

“You don’t,” he said, standing up. He walked to where she stood and took her hands. “You have done nothing wrong. You must know that, it’s just that-”

“I would have thought you two would still be fucking like rabbits!”

Aemond glared at his older brother, his wife turning to look at the king.

“You have enough skill to keep her from getting bored, brother, after all, variety being the spice of life and all-”

“You will watch your language around my wife.”

Aegon merely smirked, and left the library.

"Should I have our meals brought here?” she asked him. “Unless you wish to dine alone.”

“Here is fine,” he said, watching her as she summoned a servant.

When she finished speaking to the girl, he said. “I owe you some answers.”

“You do not. I mean, not now. I need you to know something, Aemond. I meant what I said. You have my loyalty. Whatever you tell me will stay with me, there is enough intrigue and political posturing in the realm without having our marriage be affected by it.”

He cupped her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. “You humble me, wife.”

* * * * *

There was something to what Aegon had said, she thought. He had talked about skill and variety about what she assumed was their intimate moments. Aemond was not close to the king. They were often at odds, sniping at each other, and that meant there would be no camaraderie. She couldn’t picture them talking to each other like men often did, like she’d seen her brother talk to his friends when he thought there were no ladies around.

They would talk about their conquests, alluding to various acts that she didn’t quite understand but were all apparently things to brag about. Things they did with women they bedded.

She tried to imagine Aemond bragging to Aegon and could not form the image in her mind.

So how would Aegon know anything about his brother’s “skill and variety”?

Their dinner had been spent with her talking about her education. How every art teacher she had ever had ended up quitting because she was so terrible at it. How she had ended up doing needlework because that was simply following a pattern someone else had created and that, she could do. She told him about the flowers outside her room back home, the night blooms that lulled her to sleep with their soft scent, the birds that woke her in the mornings.

He paid attention to everything she said, asked questions, told her he couldn’t imagine her being terrible at anything.

"Then I should sing for you.”

He laughed, the first time she had ever heard him laugh, and oh, how he was transformed. His handsome face, which she thought was usually so serious and intimidating, lit up like the sun. She was dazzled by him and a small voice whispered that if she wasn’t careful, she might be burned to ashes.

“I would love that,” he teased.

“You might never recover. In fact, you might banish me to the other side of the realm.”

“I would never.” Aemond went quiet, his voice barely audible now. “I would never send you away.” He reached across the table, resting his hand, palm up.

When she looked at him, there was fear in his gaze. Smiling at him, she placed her hand in his. “I am very glad to hear that.”

“Come with me,” he said, and silently, she followed.

* * * * *

In their bedchamber, Aemond closed the door after her. He wanted her, had spent the morning thinking about the few moments when he had touched her, and how soft and willing she had felt.

Her hand was still in his and he brought it to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers. He whispered her name and leaned down to kiss her lips. Other than her hand in his, she wasn’t trying to touch him, he realized, and he was torn between being grateful and ashamed. She tasted of the fruit and sweet wine they’d shared at the end of their meal, and again, she made that little noise, stepping closer to him.

His hands went to her hips and he pulled her against him. She was so warm and he wanted it all, the soft and the heat, the sweet, clean scent of her skin and the gentle waves of her hair.

He began to undo the laces on her gown, felt her tug at the bodice until one shoulder slipped free. There was a scar there, and he traced it with his fingertips.

“We got a new dog,” she said. “He was scared by all the kids being loud and when I held him up, he bit me.”

“I will skewer him and roast him over a fire.”

She gasped, laughing. “You will not, he became one of my favorites!”

There had been no laughter that night, he thought, just terror and shame as the women had stripped him bare, pressed their bodies against him. He remembered the smell of them, the sickly sweet cloud of scent that had filled the room.

He realized he was just looking at her, and there was only curiosity and kindness in her eyes.

“I like kissing,” she whispered shyly.

He felt himself smile. “I like kissing you.”

She raised her face up to him and he kissed her again. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue and she opened willingly for him. He could do this. He reminded himself she was his wife, not any of the others, not someone who would hurt him, and he began tasting her, exploring her mouth as he felt her small hands touch his chest.

There was a shard of fear slicing through him, but she didn’t grab him or pull at his clothes, she was simply letting her hands rest on him while he kissed her. He thought of ending the kiss and decided he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep kissing her, wanted more, yes, but he could have this for now, he could kiss her and have it be something new, have it not be tainted by that night.

“Sweet wife,” Aemond whispered.

She said nothing, rubbed the tip of her nose against his.

“Can we just . . . kiss?”

He felt her smile against his cheek. “I believe we can.”

* * * * *

#aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction

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iamcalmdammit · 2 years

Text

Of dreams and nightmares 3 - Stress release || [Marc Spector x reader]

summary: After being discharged, Marc comes back to Chicago to see you and he even decides to visit his family.

warning: mention of sex

note: part 1 & part 2 / This is unedited. / Feedback is always appreciated. What do you think?

taglist: @schrodingerscougar @awesomemikaus @crystalchrysalis19 @sawendell @polyglot-noodle @daughterofthequeen @cole-silas @thaliaqueen

words: 2.9k

The loud music in the club filled your ears, your chest throbbing to the rhythm as you danced with your friends on the dancefloor and sang the words of the song you knew all too well. You weren’t surprised when some jerk grabbed your hips from behind, but when you reached down to push their hands away, they only tightened their grip on your body.

Annoyed, you wanted to turn around to yell in their face and slap them, but you couldn’t move. They pressed their chest against your back, their lips slowly trailing your neck, finding their way to your ears. You couldn’t help but feel aroused as you felt their hot breath on your skin, although a part of your brain was still working properly and made you try and fight harder to make them let go of you.

“Easy, Y/N, it’s just me,” he whispered in your ear, right before he playfully bit your earlobe then returned to kissing your neck. The noise and lights made you drunk even though you only drank one cocktail so far and you couldn’t figure out who it was, no matter how hard you tried.

“Who’s me?” you yelled through the music, finally turning your head to the side, hoping you would see the mysterious guy. That’s when you saw him. “Marc?!” you asked with a wide grin, once again trying to turn around. But he didn’t let you. He only laughed, moving to the music along with you, dancing like it was only the two of you in the club.

It was strange to meet him in a club because Marc had never been some wild party animal. To be honest, you couldn’t even imagine him being at a place like this, yet there he was now. But he soon got bored of just dancing, so he asked you if you wanted to get out of there and the two of you quickly left the club. Once out on the street, he took your hand and twirled you around before pulling you against his chest.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he suddenly asked. You shook your head in response. Marc raised your hands and took a good look at them. “Husband?”

Good, he learned his lesson the last time you had met. “I’m single,” you told him with a small laugh.

Instead of speaking up, Marc decided to kiss you, acting as if he was about to devour you on the spot. He didn’t kiss you like this because he missed you. No, you knew him better than that. He was angry and he was desperately trying to drown his emotions in this kiss. You decided to play along for now, waiting to see what his plan was for the rest of the night. If it helped him feel better, so be it.

He didn’t tell you about his plan, he simply took you by the hand and got a cab, only talking when he asked for your address. During the ride he had a hand on your thigh, his finger drawing circles on your skin, but his eyes were focusing on the streets outside, not on you. The need to ask him about what was bothering him was growing stronger, but you ignored it. This wasn’t the right time. You were heading to your place, you could talk about it there.

But it became clear Marc didn’t want to talk when he kissed you in the living room then pushed you towards the bedroom with your lips locked the whole time. When he stopped, he only took a small step back to take a good look at your body. “Strip for me.” You tilted your head to the side and gave him a questioning look. “Come on, baby, don’t make me wait,” he said with a wolfish smile, running his hand along your jawline.

There was something about the tone of his voice that made you melt on the spot, and you couldn’t help but do as he said. You slowly took off your clothes, one by one, your eyes never leaving his face. When you were done, you reached out for the hem of his shirt, but Marc quickly stopped you. You were confused. Didn’t he want it? Why else would he ask you to get out of your clothes?

“Get on your knees,” he finally spoke up as he began to unbuckle his belt.

So that’s what he wanted.

And as you found out, it was only the tip of the iceberg. He was authoritative, telling you exactly what he wanted from you, right down to the very last detail. You didn’t need to think that night, you couldn’t even follow your instincts. No, Marc told you what to do and you had no choice but to do it. He had never been this dominant with you before, but there was something exciting about the way he did this.

Sure, he was rough, but for the first time in your on-and-off relationship you weren’t the one who had to take care of him. He was the one who kept asking you if you were okay, if you could take it, he kept breaks when he was surprisingly gentle with you, and this whole experience was something new. It was nice.

But the question why he acted like this returned when he was finally done with you and you were in bed next to each other. Your caregiver side emerged again, and you took his hand as you watched him lying there with his eyes closed. He was awake, you knew that, and you needed answers now. You were dying to find out what was wrong with him, so you took a deep breath and braced yourself for his reaction.

“What happened?” you asked quietly.

Marc opened his eyes and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “I think it’s obvious. Have you been so lost in subspace that you forgot what we just did?”

“No, I’m talking about you. What happened to you, why did you act like this? First you came to the club—which I never thought I would see you in—then this… It’s weird and I can tell something’s wrong,” you explained.

“I was discharged.”

“What?”

Letting out a long sigh, Marc turned on his side then began to explain the situation. “Apparently going AWOL in a fugue state is something they don’t tolerate,” he said. “Now here I am, having no idea what to do with myself.”

You remained silent. What could you say? That everything was going to be okay? No. It wouldn’t be. You knew how important this was for Marc from the beginning. This was his escape plan and it worked. He only came back home because of you. Losing this… It was hard to think about it, even for you. Especially since it happened because of something he had absolutely no control over.

Instead of speaking you leaned closer and kissed him softly, smiling to yourself when he put a hand on your cheek and kissed you back. You thought he would be mad at you for bringing this up, but he took it well. He was communicating. That was good. That was growth.

The next morning you were in the kitchen, preparing breakfast and coffee for the two of you, when Marc came out of the bedroom and walked up behind you, his arms slowly sneaking around your body. He kissed the nape of your neck then rested his chin on your shoulder as he watched what you were doing. You could have gotten used to mornings like this, with him around.

You didn’t say anything, just enjoyed the moment while you also tried to keep your breakfast in an edible state. But Marc had different ideas. He put the pan aside, turned off the stove, then lifted you to sit on the counter with your legs wrapped around him. His kisses were raw and passionate, as if you hadn’t seen each other for years, but after the previous night you decided to let him have full control over you.

But despite everything pointing in that direction, Marc didn’t want sex this time. Instead he slowed down, eventually resting his forehead against yours while you caught your breath. “I think I’ll visit my parents today. Would you come with me?” he asked quietly.

You couldn’t believe your ears. He had been avoiding them since the day he left, even asking you not to answer their questions regarding him, and now he wanted to go visit them. “Seriously? Why would you do that?” you asked incredulously.

“I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug. “I’ll have to face them one day, right? Why not today? I have nothing to lose after all.”

“Think it through, Marc. You don’t have to do this.”

He let out a sigh as he took your hand. “I want to see them,” he finally told you.

While you looked him in the eye, you noticed that he wasn’t happy or excited. No. He was indifferent. “Even your mom?” you asked him cautiously. “After everything she did to you?”

“She’s still my mom. I know it’s hard to understand.”

Shaking your head, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. Despite everything that had happened to him, Marc never said he hated his mother. He was still a kid deep inside, in need of a loving mother. A part of him probably thought she would love him again one day, that she could forgive him for what happened to his brother.

Even though you hated his mother for abusing him for years, you agreed to go with him as you knew perfectly well that he would need your support in her presence. Marc was grateful—he didn’t say anything, but his actions spoke louder than words. He grabbed you by your ass and pulled you closer before leaning down to eat you out, driving you to several orgasms right there on the kitchen counter. Sex was apparently his coping mechanism right now. Last night he had been trying to get away from the thought of being discharged, and now this was an attempt to release some of the stress that deciding to see his parents built up inside of him.

The two of you walked up the stairs leading to their front door hand in hand, with Marc’s grip tightening with each step. He was nervous, but despite this feeling he didn’t hesitate to ring the doorbell. Instead of focusing on the door and if anyone came to open it, your eyes were set on him. His gorgeous profile as he looked straight ahead, inhaling and exhaling slowly to keep himself calm.

He was terrified. You knew him, you knew that look on his face. It wasn’t obvious, most people would probably think he was just tense, but that wasn’t the case. There was a chance that every cell in his body was currently screaming at him to turn on his heels and leave before it was too late, but Marc was too proud to retreat. This was something he did to prove himself he was still strong, despite everything that happened recently at the military. Yes, he had issues, but that didn’t make him weak.

Then the door opened and it was Marc’s mother behind it. Her eyes fell on you first and a barely visible smile formed on her lips, but then she looked at his son and slowly realized who he was. Years had passed, Marc grew up, his physique changed a lot, but a mother would always recognize his own son right away. The smile faded away and it became oh-so-clear that she was considering the option to shut the door in your faces.

“Hi, Mom,” he said quietly.

She remained eerily silent. She didn’t speak, she didn’t move, she was completely frozen.

“Wendy, who’s—” His father emerged from the corridor and fell silent the moment he saw Marc. At least one of them seemed happy as the old man gently pushed his wife out of the way and went to hug his son tightly. “My son is back,” he said as he stepped back to take a good look at him.

But then he turned to look at Wendy and his enthusiasm disappeared the moment she turned around and walked away. She didn’t even bother to say hello. You began to draw circles in Marc’s skin with your thumb, your worry-filled eyes never leaving his face. He definitely wasn’t expecting this meeting to go off the rails so fast.

“I’m sorry, she’s not in a good mood right now,” Elias said with a sad smile.

“Is she ever?” Marc’s comment was harsh but true. You couldn’t remember seeing that woman be happy ever since Randall’s death. “I just… You know, I just wanted to jump in and say hi since I’m in Chicago for a few days.”

His father nodded, looking conflicted because of his wife’s dismissive reaction and the joy he felt due to the sudden return of his beloved son. It must have been hard to balance between the two of them, you had to give it to him, but he shouldn’t feel bad for being happy now. Marc had gone no contact with them years ago despite his efforts to change his mind. Seeing him again, especially in one piece, must have been great.

Then his eyes moved down, noticing that the two of you were standing there holding hands. “I see you are back together,” he noted with a small smile. “You have always been good for each other.”

“No, we’re,” Marc began to explain, but he fell silent almost right away. “It’s complicated,” he said in the end.

“Y/N, it’s good to see you. I always ask your parents to invite you when we visit them, but you’re so busy these days.”

Busy. Yes. But only when it comes to their rare visits. You flashed a kind smile at him instead of answering, hoping he wouldn’t pressure you any further than this.

And sure enough, his attention returned to Marc almost immediately. “Come inside and tell me about yourself. What are you doing, where do you live, how are you?”

But despite Elias stepping aside to let you in, Marc didn’t move. His jaw was tight, his fingers were wrapped so tightly around your hand that it was almost painful. He had absolutely no intention to step inside his old home. You tried to keep a straight face while you waited for him to say something, to come up with a reason why he wasn’t about to stay any longer.

Or should you say something? That you were on your way to visit your parents, and you only stopped by to say hi? No, it was a family issue Marc had to solve himself. You were there to support him, but it was his battle to fight.

“I can’t stay, we have plans with Y/N,” he said eventually. “It was nice to see you, Dad.”

“I’m sure you have five minutes to spare,” Elias tried before turning to you. “Tell him to stay for a few minutes.”

You wanted to stay out of this, but now you had no choice but to join the conversation. “Marc, there’s a café around the corner. Why don’t we keep a coffee break?” you said.

He looked over at you and you could see he wasn’t happy to hear your suggestion. But then you gave him a reassuring smile which made him loosen up a bit. “Sure, but let’s make it quick. I don’t want to be late.”

The three of you went to the café together, sitting in a quiet corner far from the other guests. Marc made you sit by his side, his hand never letting go of yours. You soon understood that your hand was like a stress ball for him, something he needed to remain calm. As long as he didn’t decide to break your bones, you were perfectly fine with that.

Elias knew he asked way too many questions at once back at the house so now he took things slow, one question at the time. This helped Marc. Now he was willing to answer some of them, although he didn’t say anything about being discharged recently. He didn’t say anything about Steven either. He kept the conversation under control, but you could tell he was glad to finally talk to his father. He even asked some questions about how he was doing these days, but he deliberately missed out questions regarding his mother.

After about an hour—which was way longer than what you expected when he agreed to come here—you said your goodbyes and the two of you made your way back to your apartment. Marc was tired and he fell asleep the moment he laid his head in your lap on the couch. Letting out a sigh, you put a hand on his chest and watched as he slept peacefully.

You wished he would stay in Chicago with you, but he made it very clear he had no intention to stick around for long. Too bad. You could’ve seen where your adult relationship could go.

#moon knight #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector imagine #marc spector imagines #marvel #fanfic #fanfiction

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finn-m-corvex · 6 months

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Jaya Week 2023 Day 2: Gift

And here we go with Day 2! This one was a little more difficult than the first one, but I think I got a creative enough idea to make it work. I don't know when this takes place, by the way. I think I kinda had it in mind that it was between s10 and s11 but there's nothing concrete in here to confirm that. I'm really glad you guys liked Day 1, so here's to good stories for the next five!

Words: 1.7k

[REUPLOAD!]

Jay couldn’t stop frowning.

He buried his face in his hands in order to avoid looking at the object of his frustrations. Cole sighed on his other side, patting his shoulder in sympathy. The ravenette looked very confused when Jay kept glaring daggers at his desk through his hands, looking like he wanted to take a molotov cocktail and toss it straight into his mess of a room.

“I really don’t think it’s that bad,” Cole tried, “and you know Nya would appreciate it even if it wasn’t any good, Jay.”

“That’s not the problem, Cole,” Jay said tiredly, like he had explained this a thousand times. “I know it’s good, anything I make is good! But is it good enough?”

“We both know anything you make for Nya will be good enough,” Cole said patiently, smoothing a thumb over his best friend’s hand.

The blue ninja wasn’t so easily convinced. His hands were still coated in sawdust from when he had been sanding the creation off, and he was quickly reminded of how many splinters he still had yet to take out. Jay started picking them absentmindedly, contemplating what else he could do to improve on the perceived monstrosity he had spent the past two weeks creating in his spare time.

“Do you think it needs more blue?”

“Jay, you’ve already painted the whole thing blue.”

“But there could always be more blue! I knew I should’ve gotten more at the store-”

Cole squeezed the younger boy’s shoulder, making Jay’s sudden spur of panic come to a stop. “It’s amazing just the way it is, Jay. Nya will love it, you’ll see.”

Kai entered the room, leaning against the doorway with a glass of water in his hands. He took a sip, tipping a nod to Cole and looking appreciatively at Jay’s desk. “Did you make that?”

“No, Jay did,” Cole said, “for his and Nya’s anniversary. He did a good job, right?”

“Good job? The thing’s great!” Kai praised, coming over to stand on Jay’s other side. “Nya’s gonna love it.”

He started tapping his foot on the floor in a well-recognized sign of his anxiety. The last thing he needed was another one of his brother’s comments about his gift that clearly wasn’t good enough. “I think the hole needs to be bigger.”

“Actually,” said a new voice, and the three of them turned to Zane walking in the room, glancing over the wooden thing with fondness in his eyes, “the hole should be a sufficient enough size for all of the wildlife in the area to be able to use it.”

Wonderful. Just what he needed.

Jay started weaving his fingers together, feeling his hands start to go clammy. “It isn’t good enough, but I don’t know how to make it better.”

Zane raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you do not know because there is no way to improve it. It is already very good, Jay, just what Nya would like.”

He opened his mouth to respond when Cole clapped a hand over it. “Nope, not happening. You’re not going to keep putting yourself down. The thing is great, it is blue enough, the hole is large enough, and you are enough.”

Oh. Jay felt the tears prick at the corners of his eyes when Kai slung an arm around his waist. “Dude, we both know by now that I wouldn’t have let you be with Nya if you weren’t good enough for her. You’re amazing to her, and you putting this much effort into something for her means a lot to me, and it’ll mean the same thing to Nya.”

“I just want it to be perfect,” Jay confessed, bringing his hand up to start biting at his fingernails. A metal hand gently guided it away from his face, smoothing a thumb over Jay’s knuckles.

“You are overthinking it, brother,” Zane said, “as you tend to do. Everything will be just fine, and Nya will love the gift. She will not care that it isn’t perfect, and that you are not perfect; she has never cared about that, Jay. Nya will appreciate that you made anything at all, especially of this caliber.”

“So, just a little faith in yourself, okay buddy?” Cole drew him into a full hug, and Jay was quickly sandwiched by his two other brothers. Love swelled in his heart as he hugged his best friend back, and Jay finally felt like he could breathe since he had first started making the darn thing.

All of them separated, and Kai gave him a kind smile. “Now go knock her socks off, Jay. We’re right behind you.”

Now, standing outside of the monastery in the courtyard was one of the hardest things Jay had ever done. He shuffled from foot to foot, fixing the collar of his sweatervest over and over again. The original plan had been to go on a date to one of Ninjago’s nicer restaurants after he had given her the gift, but he was terrified that he would have to stay home with how tightly his stomach was turning into knots. His dress pants felt too small, the waistband suffocatingly tight around his abdomen.

Jay forgot why he was nervous as soon as he saw her.

She was gorgeous as she stepped out from the front doors of the monastery, her flats clicking against the stone as she strode towards him. Her hair was down, a rare sight of it falling around her shoulders and framing her face. Wearing a long blue dress, she also had a complimenting white cardigan over her shoulders that he vaguely recognized as one of his. The dress fit her extremely well, and Jay could feel his brain shortcircuiting as she took his hand and pecked him on the cheek.

Nya smiled when she saw how dumbstruck he was. “Hey, handsome. Are you okay up there?”

“Uhhhhh,” Jay said eloquently. It took everything he had to keep his face from erupting into flames when Nya broke into a fit of giggles, even if he couldn’t wipe the lovesick smile off of his own face. She looked so pretty when she put on her makeup, even though now she was happy to leave her beauty mark alone.

“Didn’t you have a gift for me?” she asked, and it took a minute for the blood to flow to his brain.

“O-Oh yeah,” he said nervously, and Nya’s eyebrows rose. “It’s behind the statue, wait here for a second.”

He could feel her eyes on him (he had that uncanny ability, apparently) as he stepped behind the fountain, and Jay was positive that she could see his knees knocking. Picking up the gift, he did his best to hide it from view until he was standing in front of her again. Nya had crossed her arms, looking at him with concern rather than the anticipation he had been hoping for.

Get it together, Jay. She’ll love it.

Swallowing, he could feel his Adam’s apple bob up and down: one of his many anxious tells. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Nya, I love you so much, more than I could ever put into words. I’m so happy that you picked me out of all the guys you could’ve had, and I hope I can make you as happy as you make me for the rest of our hopefully long and fulfilling lives. In order to celebrate our anniversary, I made you this.”

Willing his hands to stop trembling, Jay held out the gift, slapping the best version of his thousand-watt smile on his face. “Happy anniversary, Nya.”

She gasped. “Oh, Jay.”

It was a birdhouse. He had spent hours cutting and carving the wood (even longer surfing the internet to find out how he was supposed to do it properly instead of winging it), painstakingly sanding it so that there wasn’t any risk of splinters. Covered in a coat of blue paint (Nya’s favorite shade, he had triple checked), Jay had recruited Cole to help him paint ocean waves along the sides, complete with white for the sea foam. It was also triple reinforced in order to withstand anything that the world decided to throw at them. But even now his careful eye could see all of the little imperfections: a glob of paint noticeable on the right side, a corner sanded just a tad too much, one of the screws tilted enough for your finger to catch it if you were running your hand along the bottom.

Oh, First Master, how had he ever let them convince him this was good enough?

For a minute Nya didn’t say anything, just looking at it with her hand over her mouth. Jay’s nerves got the better of him, yearning to fill the silence with literally anything. “I know it’s not perfect, but you were telling me all about how you wanted one after we went hiking a while ago and I was like ‘hey, I can make birdhouses!’ so I thought I would make one and then I started and turns out I did not know how to make birdhouses so I’m really sorry if it’s awful-”

Her lips caught his, and Jay let out a startled noise at being cut off before melting into the kiss. When she pulled away, Nya had one of the softest looks he had ever seen on her, and his heart fluttered in his chest. All of the butterflies flew out of his stomach as her hand grazed against his jaw, thumb on his cheekbone as he finally let himself relax.

“Jay,” she started softly, and Jay flicked his gaze down to meet hers a few inches below, “did you really think I wouldnt’ like it?”

He shrugged, and her eyes narrowed. “Jay Walker.”

“Maybe,” Jay mumbled, kissing her palm. “I just wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“Anything’s perfect when you’re the one making it, honey.” Nya soothed, and Jay let the words wash over him, putting a genuine smile on his face. The giddiness that he felt whenever she complimented him was never going to go away.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” and she kissed him again, only pulling away when his lips started to tingle from his element, “now let’s go hang this up. We still have a date to catch!”

Anything for you, Jay thought to himself as Nya started leading him away by the hand. because I would give you the world if I could hold it.

#ninjago #ninjago jay #ninjago nya #ninjago jaya #jayaweek2023 #finn's writing #ninjago jaya week 2023 day 2: gift

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colemonroe · 1 year

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WHERE: Laura Monroe’s house WITH: Closed

“Knock, knock,” Cole called out, announcing his presence as he shouldered his way through his aunt’s front door, arms filled to the brim with grocery bags. Gently kicking the door shut behind him, he made his way into the kitchen and beamed a bright smile once Laura came into view. She was sitting at the table with piles of pictures spread all around her as though the table itself had suddenly transformed into some sort of living scrapbook. Lifting her eyes from the photographs currently tucked in her hand like a set of playing cards, Laura mirrored his grin and rushed to her feet, all too eager to help her nephew with the stack of groceries in his hands.

“Hey, sweetheart– here, just set it all down on the counter,” she instructed before carefully taking some of the bags from him and setting them down in the free space beside her coffeemaker. “Appreciate you doing this.”

Chuckling softly, Cole shook his head and placed the rest of the groceries on the counter. It was the least he could do, especially for her. Most of the time, it hardly felt like enough after everything her and Michael both had done for Cole since he’d come to live with them all those years ago. “No problem. What’s all this?” He asked, nodding towards the table and the pictures scattered across it.

“Oh, just going through some of your uncle’s things,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders, “Mostly pictures, little trinkets and shit– forgot how much of a goddamn hoarder Michael could be. But there was this too.” Reaching for an old lockbox sitting in the center of the table, she held it out for Cole to take, “Belonged to your mom.”

Taking the little tin box in his hands, he glanced down at it, eyes instantly snagging on the note taped to the lid. Scrawled in his mother’s handwriting, it simply read, ‘For Cole— when the time is right.’ A soft frown knitted his brows together– when the time was right…for what? Shaking his head, he quietly combed through his memories, but he felt confident he’d never seen the lockbox before in all the years he’d lived with his mother in Knoxville. What was inside? He could only guess. “Any clue what’s in here?” He asked, tearing his eyes away from the note long enough to glance at his aunt.

Rolling her lips into a thin line, Laura gave a slow nod, “I got a pretty good idea.” She blew out a long sigh and gestured at the chair she’d been sitting in before Cole arrived, “Here, take a seat. I’ll be outside– come find me when you’re done.”

Swallowing thickly, Cole nodded, “Yeah, okay.” Once Laura left him, Cole took a seat and placed the box on the table in front of him. For a moment, he hesitated, afraid that whatever sat just beneath that lid would unravel everything he knew to be true.

Diana Monroe had always been the enigma of the family. She’d grown up in Tonopah Falls, like Michael, but for reasons unknown to Cole, she’d ended up half a world away in Knoxville, Tennessee. There, she delivered Cole and raised him all on her own– though, really, if Cole was being honest, he’d raised himself. Consumed by her drug addiction, Diana had parented from a distance, underneath a haze laced with barbiturates and the occasional shot of heroin. But that fog was still no match for the charm and wit that everyone knew her for. Despite her demons, she’d always known how to put on a bright smile whenever she needed to– so much so that hardly anyone outside of a few neighbors really knew what Diana lived with day in and day out. But he’d known. Cole always knew.

Prying the box open, he wasn’t surprised to find a picture of his mother on stage staring up at him. She’d always loved performing and Cole had always believed that her talent had the potential to stretch well beyond gentleman’s clubs and the bar scene, had she ever cleaned up enough to watch that dream of hers take flight. With her teased blonde hair and enduring charm, Diana had been best known for her Marilyn Monroe act. In so many ways, her life had mirrored the late bombshell’s, and so had her death.

Setting the picture aside, he rummaged through a few more. Most were baby pictures of himself that he’d never seen, as well as a few shots of Diana and Michael in Tonopah Falls. A small smile curved at the corner of his mouth as he thumbed through them, each one detailing a little more about his mother and the kind of warm, exuberant woman she’d been. And then, underneath the pictures, was a series of documents and handwritten letters– all of which Cole had never seen before. Taped to the top of the small stack was another note in his mother’s hand, ‘I hope the truth brings you more peace than it ever brought me.’

Cold dread rushed over him as he unfolded the first letter and began to read the words scrawled on the page. It opened with an apology from his mother– an apology for withholding the truth and for dismissing him every time Cole had asked about his father or why that section of his birth certificate was left blank. Swallowing hard, Cole pinched his eyes shut, stricken with guilt over the way he’d badgered her for the truth. Back then, he’d wanted to know so badly, but after moving to Tonopah Falls and being raised by Michael, Dean, and the rest of the MC, Cole had come to realize that the identity of the man hardly mattered– not after they’d all shown him what fatherhood was supposed to look like.

Now, he’d argue that he didn’t really care to know, but as he stared down at the next folded up piece of paper in the stack, he felt his curiosity take hold and he knew he had to look. Heart thudding so wildly in his chest he swore it would bruise, Cole reached for the document and carefully opened it. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach– a paternity test. Frantically, blue eyes skimmed over the bullshit details and explanations only serving as roadblocks on his way to the truth. He cared little about the how, or the why– he just wanted to know who.

And there, a little more than halfway down the page, he saw it.

Jeffrey Decker.

Where he’d wanted to feel relief, he only felt dread, and where he thought he’d find the missing piece that made him whole, he only felt hollow. Scrubbing a hand across his mouth, he just managed to muffle the soft curse that left him. How…how was it Jeffrey Decker– how had his mother even known the man? Waves of nausea barreled into Cole as he tried to understand, threatening to double him over in his seat the longer he stared at the name on the page. Carding a hand through his hair, he set the test aside. Left in the box were a couple more letters, no doubt detailing the answers to the hundreds of questions blazing through Cole’s mind now, but he couldn’t bring himself to read them– not yet.

A little unsteadily, Cole rose from his seat and made his way out onto the porch where he found Laura, nursing a slowly dying cigarette. Meeting her gaze, he couldn’t help the way his features slowly darkened into a scowl, “Is it true?” When his aunt only nodded, Cole scoffed loudly, barely biting back the curse that threatened on the tip of his tongue. Shaking his head, he paced forward a few steps, rife with the need to move and somehow rid himself of the sick feeling he felt rushing over him, "All this time– did you know?"

Leaning forward in her seat, Laura crushed out her cigarette in the ashtray in front of her and nodded again, "Michael, too."

Heat stained his cheeks and threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes as he whirled back around to face her, a blend of rage and pain twisting his features, “And ya never said a word.” No matter how he tried to rationalize it in his head, it felt like betrayal– like he’d just been let in on the punchline of some sick, twisted joke. What else had he been left in the dark about?

“Cole, we didn’t know how to. The way Jeff threatened your mother, and you?” Laura pressed, shaking her head as she rose to her feet. He guessed that part was explained in the letters he still had yet to read. “Michael knew a truth like that would set you on fire– didn’t know what you’d do.”

Lifting his brows, Cole nodded slowly– Michael had gotten that part right. He was on fire. Beyond that, he felt lost, left to grapple with a truth he’d never seen coming. Did Jeffrey Decker know who he was? Did his two other kids know they had a bastard brother? Who, outside of his aunt and uncle, knew that damning truth? Question upon question raced to his tongue, each one demanding to be let out first, and yet all he did was slam the tip of his tongue against the backs of his teeth, cutting them all off. Instead, he looked to Laura, anger smoldering low in his gaze and ticking at the back of his jaw, “And now?”

Shrugging her shoulders, the woman stepped forward, gingerly reaching out to rest a hand on his arm, “Now, son, whatever you do with that truth is up to you."

#( self para 002. )#( ft; laura monroe. )#under a cut bc it's kinda long #just hurt myself with this one

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stevehharringtcns · 10 months

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who: steve harrington & cole montgomery where: steve harrington’s apartment

it seemed like everyone had found out where he lived. this didn’t happen as often, at least it didn’t before everyone returned for joyce’s funeral. ever since then, people seemed to appear out of nowhere to ask him for something or just to visit him. which was appreciated, but not when he was trying to put ford to sleep. he had been rocking him to sleep all night long. two hours had passed and the kid was still screaming at the top of his lungs - he wasn’t sure what more he wanted - he had fed him, he had changed him, he had done everything in his power so he would stop crying. but it wasn’t working. and then, just like a miracle, ford stopped the crying and steve had to make sure that everything was okay. steve let out a sigh of relief as he put the kid in his crib and softly went back to the living room, making sure to leave the door open. not two minutes had passed when someone was banging on the door and ford was back to screaming. steve threw his hands in the air and walked towards the door, opened it and went back to ford’s room to help him. as he picked him up and walked back to the living room to see who it was, he was shocked to see... someone that he didn’t know. “who the fuck are you?!” he asked, already annoyed that he had woken up ford and that someone he didn’t even know had banged on his door. he felt like ripping his head out.

#closed starter: cole

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gerritcole-coded · 8 months

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no I noticed that too (your post about when cole has a bad day higgy gets blamed but not ben or trevy). and honestly my heart kinda breaks for higgy that he gets so much hate/doesn’t seem to be believed in as much as the other catchers in terms of skill, especially considering how up until recently he said he still felt like he wasn’t good enough to be on the team :(

yes exactly! his good year is being under-appreciated, and the fact that he called a fucking perfect game to me that he calls a good game.

and I'm sorry, rortvedt fucking sucks and the annoying fans are only obsessed with him because they wanted to believe for so long that somebody would easily be better when he's not. I think his framing is worse than trevino's and higgy's and until he hit that homer he was down to .100 during this game. and he's so injury prone there's memes he doesn't exist. cole is probably always yelling at him for a reason.

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roleplayingspinosaurus · 1 year

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Valentine’s for Colecassiidy

Valentine’s with Sylvester

Romance was not Sylvester’s strong suit. To be fair, anything social wasn’t exactly his strong suit, but dammit, he’d make it work somehow! He didn’t exactly have a Valentine, something that didn’t bother him too much, but he still felt that it was a good opportunity to show some appreciation to those he considered precious to him.

Cole Cassidy was someone that he considered a friend. He wasn’t entirely sure if Cassidy would consider him one in return (there was a good chance that Cole saw him mostly as a mildly annoying acquaintance that was difficult to get rid of), but he quite enjoyed the idea of giving Cassidy a little something to show that he cared. He certainly deserved a reward for putting up with Sylvester’s endless nonsense anyway.

“Ah, Cassidy, I was looking for you.” He waved at Cassidy, a gesture that almost seemed too big and too lively for him. “I have something... a thing... chocolates... for you?” Oh Jesus. How did this man ever get engaged to anyone? Why is he being so awkward about this? Why is he getting nervous? He silently wishes he could light himself on fire.

For a moment he says nothing, but then he speaks up again. “Hold on, let me just... let me try that again?” He needs to push through, he has to, he’s come this far. “I just wanted to give you something, you know, as a way to thank you, I suppose. People don’t usually put up with me for this long.” He smiles sheepishly before handing the box of chocolates to Cassidy. It’s wrapped in the cheesiest packaging known to man, little pink cowboys riding on horses that are covered head to toe in hearts, with the text “you’ve got a lasso on my heart, partner” it’s not even clever.

“It has...cowboys on it. It seemed..eh...appropriate?” His own cheeks have become just as pink as the little cowboys, but he’s managed it. He was able to do someting for Valentine’s day and he didn’t even die. A victory if there ever was one.

@colecassiidy

#enjoyed writing this hehe #colecassiidy #The Crow

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whatifxwereyou · 2 years

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Ashes Chapter 38: Earned Not Owed

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

Summary: This is progress. With Liu. With Raiden. With yourself.

A/N: I am still, in fact, alive, despite evidence to the contrary. And I am still writing these. I'm also working on personal projects/original stories so I've just sorta shifted my focus. Don't worry, still a big ol' ho for Liu Kang and Kung Lao.

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Chapter Index Embers (Prequel)

You ate with Cole. He helped keep your mind off the rotten events of the day before. It was a relief to feel that weight lessen. Spending time with him had been exactly what you’d needed. Johnny Cage had joined you halfway through looking rather worse for wear. Apparently, Liu Kang had kicked his ass.

The way he told the story made it sound hilarious. You sat with rapt attention. Cole kept correcting him which only made the moment that much funnier. After breakfast, you’d returned to your room with a plate of food for Liu Kang. He’d overslept, a rarity for him. But he’d been under a tremendous amount of stress, so he deserved the extra rest. Given that you were a huge source of that stress, you thought you owed it to him.

He ate and you chatted casually. He was annoyed that he’d overslept but got over it quickly.

“Can I be honest about something?” You began, nervously.

“I would prefer if you were.” He set aside the now empty plate. Liu Kang was the type of guy to eat like he was in prison. It was kind of ridiculous. You assumed it had to do with living on the streets. You’d asked once but he’d dodged the answer.

“I keep flip-flopping about this thing we have going on.”

“I know.”

“Could you smack some sense into me sometimes?”

“Not literally, but yes.”

“Remind me we’ve been through this and know how it’ll end. Remind me that it’s guilt. Be mad at me a little?”

“I don’t know how mad I’ll be, but I’ll try. If you do the same for me, Y/N. This is not easy for either of us. Being here is a reminder of that.” Liu shrugged, running fingers through his messy hair. You felt guilty for not considering how difficult it would be for Liu Kang to stay in Lao’s old space even if just for a night. You nodded. “Thank you for telling me and not… internalizing it. It’s greatly appreciated.”

“I’m working on bettering myself.” You shrugged but felt relieved to have been honest with him. You were in this together now. You’d decided. And this was definitely progress. You were moving forward and coping, or at least trying to. It was nice not to be trapped in the limbo that had bullied you for weeks. Emotions were the worst. Brains played both saboteur and victim in an internal war.

“I am too.” He reached for your hand, and you got the shivers. The hurt, while behind you, was still something you had to recover from. But you would do that together. You were sure you would still fight about a million things and that the road would be a difficult one, but you were trying and so was he. That was what mattered.

“You have things to do. You have to go.”

“I have to go.” He smiled sympathetically then sighed in frustration with himself. “I overslept.”

“You needed it.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“Will you come with me to talk to Raiden later?”

“Of course. Is Cole willing to come too?”

“Yeah, I’ll let him know. Thanks Liu.” You offered his hand a squeeze. He bowed his head, got up, and left with dish in tow. You watched the door and then went about packing things up. For now, it would all go. You couldn’t live in the time capsule that room had become. It was a prison of grief. A prison of the past. It was time to finally move forward rather than running in place.

You weren’t moving on from Kung Lao.

This wasn’t the end of your grief.

It was learning to live with the loss.

You pulled your hair back and packed. You would pack until it was time to meet with Raiden. About an hour in there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” You shouted. When the door opened, you dropped the box in your arms, and it fell to the floor with a thud. Thankfully, it was just clothes, but damn.

Raiden.

And he was as imposing a figure as he ever was. You took a defensive step back. He wouldn’t touch you again without your permission. God or not, you’d fight. Being that you were the daughter of another God, maybe you could follow through on that.

“May we speak?”

You said nothing. Tongue-tied.

“I know you are apprehensive, Y/N. I promise to come no closer to you than I am now.” He was offering an olive branch. Where had that been yesterday?

“I would rather we weren’t alone.”

“I understand that, but I would prefer if it were just the two of us.”

“Do I have much of a choice?”

Raiden smiled sympathetically but that was answer enough.

“Fine. Can I start by asking what the fuck? Why did you do that, Raiden?” What was the point of filling yourself with anxiety for hours waiting? He was here. Raiden had at least been civil. This was more like the fatherly figure that you’d grown to know and love. “I trusted you.”

“Yesterday was a day I have feared.”

“You? Afraid? You’re a God.” You no longer had faith that he felt things the way that the rest of you did.

“Prophecies were made of your arrival.” Raiden hadn’t moved. He hadn’t raised his voice either. The man he’d become in the heat of the moment the day before was gone. You sat on the floor next to the box you’d dropped, feeling sheepish. “About your birth. About how you would crush both Earthrealm and the Netherrealm.”

That seemed silly. You just didn’t have that kind of power or desire. Maybe if things had happened differently, sure. Or if your brain was consumed by some wicked power, maybe. Either way, the stars had to align in a great many ways for that to happen.

“From the moment you arrived, I was waiting to banish you to the Netherrealm with your father.” Raiden avoided your eyes.

“You would have done that?” You already knew the answer. He would have had no other choice.

“Yes. In the beginning, easily. It was my duty to keep an eye on you.”

“Sounds right.” You didn’t envy Raiden. To have to behave like that would crush you. It was hard enough deciding what to eat everyday nonetheless decide if you had to banish a human you otherwise liked.

“With time you proved yourself dedicated to Earthrealm. Passionate about life. I confess that I have come to think of you fondly. Human life is fleeting but it does not mean that the bonds we form are any less special. Saying goodbye is something I will never be good at.”

Oh, now you felt guilty. Damn.

“I was curious about how that was for you but afraid to ask.” There was no reason to feel guilty, you reminded yourself. Raiden had acted rash. Emotional. It was kind of a relief to see that he wasn’t this perfect deity. He was just as capable of losing his cool as you were. Maybe less than you were, you corrected.

“I do not think that the prophecies will come to pass. Humans are not bound to any one fate as many of you believe. There are many fates, and some are just whispers that go unheard.” He was being soft with you. Purposely speaking in a quieter tone. “The way you have grown and changed, Y/N, I do not think you will fall prey to what fate may have once held for you. Maybe if our paths had never crossed that would be different.”

“What does that mean?” Sure, the words were pretty, but they didn’t actually say much. He hung his head. “Do you trust me?”

Raiden gave you his full attention and there was his answer without saying.

He didn’t.

“I have never given you reason not to trust me. I have only ever done as you asked.” Your blood pressure was pounding in your ears. “Never. You’re the one who broke my trust. You chose to hide things from me. Hide things about me that would explain so much. You understood what was wrong with me! It answers questions that I have struggled with my whole life. Then you flipped off the handle when I learned the truth. As though it was my fault you chose to hide it. And… for the love…” You took a deep breath to calm down upon realizing you’d gotten far louder than when you’d started. “Why would Kung Lao’s engagement ring be hidden? Why would you keep that from me?” Arguably, finding that missing ring had hurt almost as much as finding out your truth. “Why?”

Silence.

Raiden was taking time to choose his words.

“Kung Lao asked me for permission to marry you.” Raiden seemed to come to a silent decision as he sat next to you, breaking his promise not to come any closer. You shuddered. “And I gave him permission. Like a father would. I had not thought of myself like that until then. I had not realized that you must have thought of me like that. For Kung Lao to come to me regarding you… well, it was a revelation.”

“And… you…” You were struggling with words. Words without crying. Your whole face was hot trying not to cry. It was the worst. But if you cried, you’d have puff-pastry eyes and you hated that shit. You were so tired of it! “Why?”

“I hid the ring because I did not know that he had asked you.”

“That is not an excuse, Raiden.”

“You are grieving. Terribly. I have seen grief kill people, Y/N. Strong people. I did not wish to worsen your grief. I did not think that your heart could handle it if you had not already known.”

“You decided for me.” That was a new hot button of yours. “Why is it that everyone feels the need to make decisions regarding me without asking me? You? Liu? Cole? I am capable of making my own decisions. I lived a whole life before I came here. Before I dated Lao. This isn’t fair.”

“I made the decision to keep it all secret. Sometimes, even I make decisions selfishly, Y/N. I understand that you are upset but I hope you understand that I was trying to protect you. I hid it to protect you and to protect Earthrealm. I am not sorry for that. But I am sorry that it hurt you. And I am sorry for how I behaved when you found out.”

“I…” You didn’t know what to say. This was overwhelming. At least he wasn’t lying. “I’ll work on forgiving you. And trusting you. Because I don’t. Not anymore. So many secrets have been kept from me by people I trusted. You and Liu. Even Lao to an extent. I know that everyone has secrets but… not like this. I feel betrayed.” You did. You were not a woman incapable of handling difficult things. You'd handled difficult things your whole life. This was unfair.

“Can I help with any of that?”

“You could keep being honest. Answer some of my questions.” You had so many questions. Honestly, it was exhausting wondering this damn much.

“What is it you wish to know?”

“How long have you known what I was?”

“Since your arrival at the temple. I did not know when I sent Liu Kang to convince you to join us. I will answer as much as I can in good conscience.”

“That’s as good a start as any, I guess.”

“May I help you pack?”

“I…” The mental image of Raiden doing something as menial as packing was amusing. “There are surely more important things for you to be doing.”

“There are many things important to me, Y/N. Right now, this is the most important of them.”

“Okay. Then yeah, sure, you can help me pack while I ask some questions”

“Ask away.”

“How did you know?”

“A prophet. I was told you had arrived the day after Liu Kang brought you here.”

“And who else knew?”

“A handful of monks who were close to me were told.”

“What about the ones that are close to me? Kung Lao and Liu Kang?” You stopped packing. Raiden rested his hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t yet forgiven him, but you were trying. This effort he made was appreciated.

“I never told them.” Raiden reassured you. “I know that you are close to them, and I did not wish to change their opinion of you. Or anyone’s opinion of you.”

“Yet… yesterday…”

“Even I have poor judgment at times, Y/N.”

“That’s a little unsettling, but also a relief.” You were nervous. Raiden was helping you pack, but he was not doing a very good job. You were trying not to take over. “Did you ever plan to tell me?”

“I decided not to. You didn’t need it.”

“I appreciate your honesty.”

“I should have been honest yesterday too.”

“You’re really bad at this. Packing.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Why don’t you leave me to it then?”

“I will learn along the way.”

“Thank you, Raiden.” With that, you felt relieved. At least something had been cleared up though it didn’t change much. You would be cautious around Raiden for a time. Around everyone. The truth was better late than never.

You finished packing up your things in separate boxes with Raiden’s help. He got better as you went, thankfully. It was surreal. To put away the belongings of the man you loved alongside a man who had been your substitute father; a man who was also a God.

But this was progress too. Sometimes progress didn’t look like progress. Sometimes it looked like packing up your old life and feeling betrayed. It was still progress.

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