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cheriladycl01 · 3 months

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No because that hurt me! Lando Norris x Girlfriend! Reader Part 2

Plot: Lando goes one step too far ...

Credit to purplephantomwolf for the GIF

As you'd promised you'd gone straight back to London, you thrown yourself into your work. You spent the days on the construction sight for the new house you were flipping, overseeing the progress. You spent the evenings in the studio working on more plans for the interior of the house.

But you did miss him, of course you missed him.

He was your person ...

Your guy...

The love of your life.

In the time that you'd come home however, videos had surfaced, many videos had surfaced...

The first was of you and Lando in the club, someone from a table across from the one your friends had been sat in showed how Lando had acted towards you and how his friends had tried to back you up. The next was of you running up to Alex, begging for a lift.

Afterwards, videos were leaked of the rest of Lando's night where he celebrated his win, by dancing with his friends and random girls that were being pulled into the big group. Nothing scandalous but enough to upset the fans who really liked you.

Later on, after the first few videos came out a video came out of Max Fewtrell and him arguing before him and Pietra left. Max actually pushed him a little and lots of hand gestures were flying round, but Lando looked just as angry as Max did.

Normally when you were in London, people knew they'd get content on your Instagram stories of you doing what you do best. People had suggested you to start a YouTube because your live's and reels were so funny that they'd definitely spend the time watching.

But you'd been dark since the argument with Lando and people were getting worried including Lando. So when you posted a titkok with your team, in the trend that AstonMartin did where the camera is up high above and you all do funny things, the media went crazy.

You then posted a video on instagram talking about the new house and the progress that was coming on.

"Hey guys! Y/N here! Just wanted to show you how the latest project is coming on. We've torn down the living room and put all new flooring in, which actually has built in underfloor heating which i think here in the UK is a real money move. We're going to hook it all up to a central network from the hallway as you walk in, which we finally finished the painting for that last week" you pan showing the round the areas you'd been talking about.

You showed you and one of the girls tearing down the kitchen.

Captioned 'Best Part of the Job, Free Rage Room', which is how you'd always referred to the demolition phase of house flipping. People on twitter of course took it out of context and rumors started flying that you and Lando had in fact called it splits, even one of those WAG update pages 'confirming' the breakup from close sources.

You'd found it laughable really, but you knew it would be hurting Lando, and no matter how much he hurt you ... you weren't a bitter person. You didn't want him hurting as well.

You were sat in your studio at your desk, sketching for the garden. The pen was currently in your mouth, sat back debating whether you should reach out to Lando or wait for him to come to you.

It had been three weeks at this point with no communication. You'd spoken to Lando's family, who had talked with you about everything that had happened. Cisca and Adam had apologized for their sons behavior.

As you were about to pick up your phone, caving in to messaging Lando first when you swore you wouldn't on knock on your wooden studio door sounds.

You frown, wondering who on earth would be coming to you at this time of the night. You weren't even open, office hours were long over. It was about 11pm, so your clients knew you weren't taking calls even though you were still here and working with a light on.

You open the door, bolt and latch on for added protection.

"Lando?" you ask seeing the curly haired boy, hoodie up and his eyes looking more tired than you'd ever seen them.

"You want to open up and let me in baby?" he asks softly, a slight crack to his voice.

"I was just about to call you" you admit, unlatching the door so it swings open fully. He stops just under the arch of the door observing you. It was like he was having a small inward debate with himself.

"Gonna cave coz you miss me?" he jokes, testing the waters. He didn't know how you were now that you'd have some time apart. He was hopeful that he could talk to you again and fix what had happened.

"Honestly yeah. I hate you and how much of a hold you have on me" you admit, leaning back into your chair directing him to the sofa.

"I came here, to say I'm sorry and that I was horrible to you. And I know it's not excuse but I want to explain what happened. In full... I think you deserve more than an explanation... but I think you need one for if we are ever going to go back to what we were" he sighs. He leans forward and takes your hand into his.

He explains how, after the race people told him you'd said you were leaving the race track. So he went to the hotel to find you, only for you not to be there, Max came round and said you were probably getting ready with the girls as P had told him you were all gonna meet them there.

"I didn't think this was too out of the ordinary for you, your especially close with P and Lily, and it wouldn't shock me if Kelly and Kika would drag you all into a girl pre-club party in their hotel room..." he laughs knowing that normally you and P would do each other's makeup when Max and her came to race weekends. Or you and Lily would switch outfit's loving to venture into each other's styles.

When he got to the club and no-one had seen you, and Pierre and Charles had come up to him with celebratory shots, he hadn't declined.

"The shots were the start of what slowly just went downhill, I don't think i ever want to drink that much again, I was so happy at the start" he laughs flushing red and the thought of him knocking back shots, which was rare considering he didn't like to drink. He wouldn't be doing it anytime soon that was for sure.

"You deserved to celebrate though baby, don't make it seem like you shouldn't have had a fun night" you admit, both of you were being open and mature adults right now. You were so glad you'd both spent some time apart to think before you fought more, now you were both talking and listening to each other and you couldn't help but think it was beautiful and intimate.

After the three hour mark he was fed up that you hadn't bothered to show up at such an important night for him. Talking to Charles and Pierre who were also drunk, weren't the best influences on suggesting places you could be. All of them being ones his drunk mind could picture vividly, his sober mind would have known his girl would never dream of doing that to him.

"Charles said some things and I know sober me would have known you wouldn't do that, but i was already angry thinking you'd just ditched me. I shouldn't have drunk as much and I know its no excuse... but" he starts and you nod.

"The main thing is you know how you would have acted. Yes you upset me, yes your hurt me because you said some horrible things to me..."

"Yeah, I've heard the video and It wasn't my intention to embarrass you the way I did, especially in front of our friends. I'm so so sorry!" he admits.

The other group, had tried to convince him that maybe you'd just got held up and thats where Oscar, Lily, Max and P had all messaged you.

"Baby, I'm so so sorry that i wasn't there for you after what happened!" he says tears in his eyes. This would forever be one of his biggest regrets in life, not being there for you when you needed him.

"How did you find out?" you gulp, not really wanting to think about what could have happened that night if it wasn't for the Mclaren Mechanics.

"Well, after having a scolding from Oscar, and Max, and Alex, and Zac... the mechanics also threatened to botch my pit stops. So i listened to what they did for you"

"Mmmm it was scary. All i wanted was you" you nod, rubbing a thumb across his hand.

"I'm so so sorry, I promised you that i'd protect you always. And I've failed!" he says with a little snivel and tears brimming his eyes.

"You've not failed, you just made a mistake, there's been some miscommunication and Charles and Pierre didn't help with their boyish meddling but ... we'll get there" you smile before pulling closer to him and nuzzling into his neck breathing in his sent.

"Do you think you'll ever forgive me?" he asks softly pulling you back so he can fully look at you.

"I already have, darling" you smile.

"What did i ever do to deserve you, I don't think i do" he smiles.

"Hmmmm, well I think the historians will argue one day its me who didn't deserve you" you sigh, brushing some of his hair back.

"I doubt that" he scoffs, knowing that when you first started dating, even with your lack of status people still thought you were too kind, too sweet and too innocent for someone as jokey and brash as Lando was seen to be.

"I've never had anyone treat me the way you do, I'm so so in love with you. And I don't ever want the feelings I have when i think of you and see you to stop. I feel like i can do anything when i have you by my side. Why do you think the first person i seeked out was you?" you offer, softly leaning in and placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

You guys, talked more that night. About how you actually had fun helping the Mclaren boys pack up, regardless if you thought Lando had forgotten about you.

A week later and the media had picked up on the sighting the paps had got of both of you. Some fans had seen you both at a restaurant and make posts on it.

The comments bashed you either way, being between saying how silly you were for taking him back or the others saying they were upset you were back. It got to the point where you had to release a statement saying that you and Lando, are grown adults who can talk through the miscommunication and issues you'd experienced and were better for it now.

"I love you so much, and I'm never ever ever acting up like that again" he says as you help him do up his fire suit for the race you were currently at with him.

"I love you too, now go out and get another win for me baby so we can celebrate properly this time" you smile, kissing him before Jon comes forward asking for Lando's presence in the front of the garage.

A/N: I hope you guys think this did the first part justice as so many people requested a Part 2, so I'm really scared that this hasn't done it justice! If you want a rewrite with something better... something longer where its more of a series. Or where it goes the opposite way and it takes her longer to forgive him let me know. I just thought that Y/N and Lando in this one specifically would be the type to maturely talk about things!

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disneyprincemuke · 6 months

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the great war * mv1

a look into the fight that led to the painstaking breakup

pairings: max verstappen x reader

warnings: a lot of cursing, toxic max, toxic you, mentions of cheating

notes: this is part of midnights!! i've had this fight mapped out in my head for so long that i KNEW i had to include it... take a shot every single time i write “three” or use “what” in dialogue (spoiler alert: you’ll get wasted!!!)

fun fact: i wrote the first half of that night i came home from the club

(series masterlist)

you twirl a piece of your hair on your finger, eyes stuck to the screen hanging above you. the headphones sit on your ears comfortably as you bite down on your lip.

in front of you is max’s car being dragged back into the garage by his engineers.

knocked out in p2 for the first time this season, on a track he’s never had much luck with in his career — you can kind of understand why he’d be annoyed. especially when their partner team has made it further than him.

normally, it would have been okay. but this is max’s season as he claims it.

you nod to yourself, and gently take off the headphones. you turn towards the door that leads to the paddocks. there are a few interview panels that max has to go through with the unexpected result.

with all that transpired, max wouldn’t be in the best mood. you’re just trying to make sure that it doesn’t get to his head and doesn’t project it to your conversations later.

your presence in the garage is no longer necessary since max would not bother passing by.

you’re stopped by lily in the paddocks, making some small talk about the restaurant her and alex tried when they arrived a few days ago. you share a laugh about not really knowing how to approach singaporean dishes.

but you agree to try out some local food for breakfast with max if you have the time. immediately, you briskly walk back to max’s driver’s room to make him some coffee.

the jetlag you both get arriving in singapore is never easy, no matter how many times you come back. the visit is always too short to make adjusting your body clock easy.

surprisingly, it doesn’t take him long to make it back.

you can’t decipher what made the process so quick: did he kimi raikkonen his way through it, or have the journalists finally learned their lesson when max has had a bad time on the track?

the frustration on max is obvious. he doesn’t greet you when he comes in, just locks the door behind him and makes a sharp turn for the table to his left.

you were seated on the couch to the right.

you wait to see if max would acknowledge your presence, or at least give some attention to the coffee in the mug on the table. but seconds pass as max organises his items, shoving articles of clothing and fan gifts into his bag without a word.

without even turning to drink the coffee that slowly cools from its hot temperatures.

“i made you coffee,” you mutter, finally standing from your comfortable spot on the couch. you walk towards him and stop in the centre of the room when he sharply turns his head to the mug. “just how you like it.”

“oh, thank you.” he can barely make out a firm sentence, his tone faltering and hands shaking as he reaches out for the mug. “i hadn’t noticed, darling. i’m sorry.”

you nod, whispering a reassuring phrase. something about you understand how he feels. “i’m sorry about qualifying.”

instead of a verbal response, like you’d prefer, he simply shrugs. he turns around to finally face you, hands carefully gripping the hot mug as he blows into it.

you smile slightly and shove your hands into your back pockets. “you know, if you’ve got nothing past 11, i was thinking we go to this place lily told me about. she went with alex a few days ago; i heard the local dishes they serve is really good.”

he shakes his head. “i’m really tired. not tonight, darling, i’m sorry.”

for the first time since he left his race car that night, he finally lifts his blue eyes from his blank stare at the ground to look at you. “maybe we can go on monday before we fly off to japan?”

you jaw hangs low, nodding slowly as you retract back to the couch behind you.

max notes this and finally pushes himself off the table he’s leaning on. “let’s order some food to the hotel after this? they’ve got good options for delivery.”

“sure,” you nod slowly.

you move your gaze away from him, now mimicking the blank stare he had on the ground.

you haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately, even having fought right before flying to singapore. it was about something you can’t even remember now; for all you know, it could’ve been something about the toilet seat being left up.

which, now that you think of it, is what you fought about.

“(y/n).” the mention of your name makes you lift your head up, tilting it to the side to urge him to continue. “you made my coffee with two sugars?”

“what?” your eyebrows furrow very slightly. max has always been particular with the way he drinks his coffee. so you’re very sure that you mixed three sugars in instead of two, a mistake you made earlier in your relationship. “of course, i made it with three. that’s how you like your coffee.”

you watch him take another sip, tongue running over his lips as he deciphers the drink in his mouth. he doesn’t say anything else, but he does put the mug down on the table.

you narrow your eyes into a glare. how different can black coffee be in singapore that the three sugars you put inside make such a difference?

a difference big enough for him to mistake it for two sugars?

you sink into the couch, following max’s every move in the small room. seriously, how different can the coffee be here? and why is it such a big deal that it tastes a little odd?

why couldn’t he have just secretly put in another packet of sugar when you weren’t looking like he used to? does he now enjoy the luxury of pointing out your mistakes because of how long you’ve been together?

“what,” max halts halfway across the room and turns to you, “the fuck are you staring at?”

“i don’t know, the ghost in the corner of the room,” your words drip with sarcasm, noticing the way this changes max’s expression. “obviously you.”

“what is it now?” he sighs impatiently, hands resting on his hips as he leans his weight on one leg.

“what the fuck do you mean?”

“you’re giving me that stupid glare again. when you’re annoyed, you glare at me like that,” he points at you knowingly, “so please. enlighten me as to how i’ve managed that tonight.”

you raise your eyebrow. your heart starts to pound in your chest as you tilt your head in disbelief. “why are you talking like i don’t have a reason to be annoyed at you right now?”

he hums as his eyebrow raises. “you're the one who made my coffee wrong.”

“i made it how you like it.”

“this is not three sugars, (y/n).”

“but it is. i made it, max.”

“i’m sure you did. but this doesn’t taste like three.”

“okay. whatever. i made it with three, though.”

“you know what? fuck you. this isn’t three sugars — i don’t know why you keep trying to defend yourself.”

“and why’d you have to point it out? will it kill you to literally just reach a little to your right in the drawers to add sugar in?” you push yourself off the couch now, hands on your hips as you stare at him. “it’s really not that serious, max.”

he scoffs. “i’ve had a long day, (y/n). seriously, all you had to make was one cup of coffee. it shouldn’t be that hard.”

your eyes widen at his words. you take a daunting step forward and fold your arms over your chest. “i didn’t have to make you that cup of coffee — it was out of courtesy. the least you could have done was say thank you.”

his stare softens, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. as if realisation had dawned on him, “thank you.” he pauses to sigh and the cold demeanour makes its comeback. “for nothing because you didn’t even make it right.”

“what the fuck is wrong with you, max? you’re so fucking dense, you can’t even say thank you anymore?”

“and what for? you’ve become unattentive, (y/n)! you’ve gotten lazy with our relationship!”

“lazy would have been just staying home instead of flying out here with you when i have a big presentation this week! i made the effort to come out here and support you.”

“i told you that you didn’t have to come if it’s too much! you insisted!”

“because i’m your girlfriend! i want to be there for you and make time. but if you don’t appreciate that, then fine. i won’t do it again.”

“that’s not even what i fucking said. come on.”

“but it is what you said. if having me around is more trouble than it’s worth, this will be the last race i’ll be at.”

“this isn’t even about you making time to be here? it’s about how you made my coffee wrong!”

“make your own coffee, then! or maybe you’d prefer if kelly did it for you?”

max closes his mouth as he finds the reply at the tip of his tongue sucked out. he looks at you in disbelief, hands now on his hips as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “what?” he shouts.

it’s been nothing less of a toxic cycle. you fight, you say things you don’t mean, you hurt each other, you cry, and then you make up.

but there’s a feeling you can’t shrug off in your stomach as you exchange strings of frustrated screams in his tiny driver’s room. neither of you notice the figure walking by the window before it briefly turns away when your screams come into range.

not even the fact that there is a group of your friends waiting outside at the rendezvous point in the paddocks, awaiting your arrival to invite you both for dinner.

they’ve just started making their way out after a distraught liam simply shrugs when they ask about your attendance at the gathering. the young driver simply shrugs and tells them that he doubts both of you will make it out tonight.

then they all just turn and make their way out to explore the city.

now, you're across the massage table in max's driver's room. the mention of kelly and your issue with the woman's association with your boyfriend sparked up a bigger fight.

you're no longer fighting about the coffee: now it's about who can hit who the hardest and come out triumphant from this fight.

it's now you versus max.

you lean forward propped up by your palms flat on the table as he stands at the other side waiting impatiently.

"what about that time you went to that party when i was away for a race? i told you not to go, (y/n)! you disappeared on me for hours!" max spits at you, hands thrown in the air as he gets into the fight.

"yeah, cause god forbid i have a life while you're out doing your own thing," you laugh dryly with an eye roll. "can't deal with the fact that my world doesn't revolve around you anymore, max?"

"totally not the point of my argument. you disappeared on me while you were out drunk - think of what could've happened to you. i was so worried."

"worried for my well-being or worried that i was out cheating on you?"

the room falls to silence, max dropping his hands to his side. you purse your lips together as you stare at him, your arms now folded over your chest. "what's wrong, max? hit too close to home?"

"and so what if i thought you were out cheating? it's valid if my girlfriend disappears on me on a night out."

you roll your eyes and wave off his concern. "so you admit - you thought i cheated on you that night. is this why you're always like this? the looming question in your head if i was, in fact, unloyal that night?"

he sighs, shaking his head. he turns away from you as he rubs his forehead in frustration. "what is the point of us having this conversation? this is not what we're fighting about at first."

"look at me and tell me you don't trust me anymore." your voice is tired, now multitudes softer than a few seconds ago. "what is the point of us now that this is what we've come to?"

a small part of you realise that this was the feeling you couldn't shake off when this fight had started. it's the inevitable thought of breaking up that would ease everything between you. after all of this fighting, all these misunderstandings and miscommunication, there's only one way to make it all go away.

your eyes sting as tears fill your eyes. you watch as max drops himself on the couch, leaning into the armrest as he rests his hand in his hands. you trudge over to where he is, head hanging low as you feel a sob shake your chest.

you shake your head and look down, avoiding his eyes as he turns to you when you slowly bring yourself down to the couch. "i can't do this anymore, max."

he doesn't answer immediately. you hear a shakey sigh pass his lips, melting into his couch more. "i'm tired."

your breath hitches with a sob. your head starts to feel light as you cry harder. you still don't look at him. "i think we need to break up."

minutes pass without a response from max. he doesn't even move an inch, his loud breaths and your muffled sobs are the only sounds that surround you.

you don't even notice all the scrambling outside from the team, packing up from their meeting to go back to the hotel.

you lift your head and turn to max. he's angled away from you, his fingers picking at his bottom lip with his tear-filled eyes. his breathing is steady as he stares at the blank dark blue walls.

you remind yourself: no answer is an answer.

so you do what you think is a favour to both of you. you get up and grab your purse from the ground, walking towards the door. the most painful part isn't all that he said to you that night, it's the fact that he just let you walk out without another utter of a word.

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke #formula 1 fanfiction

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lovings4turn · 2 months

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୧ ‧₊˚ ☕️ ⋅ ☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭…

— in desperate need of caffeine, logan stumbles into the first cafe he comes across. little does he know, this will be the start of something great.

+ the first part of my whole latte love series , aka my child , so i hope you all enjoy <3 this is set in the uk , but reader isn't specified to be any particular nationality !

+ dividers from benkeibear !!

there were many sacrifices logan sargeant was willing to make in his life.

flying halfway across the world aged only eleven to pursue his dream of racing, for one. on a smaller scale, always allowing his brother dalton to ride shotgun on family trips, despite the fact that the backseat caused his legs to cramp up after a few hours.

but, no matter how late he was running, logan had promised himself he would never, ever deprive his body of a hot, caffeinated beverage before a meeting.

on this particular morning, though, logan was running especially late. normally, the jarring sound of the iphone alarm would snap him from his deep sleep within seconds, the noise sparking an instant feeling of dread within him even when it wasn't coming from his phone.

he’d learned that alex had a habit of setting alarms for various things throughout the day, before promptly forgetting what he’d set it for, leaving logan to go through the five stages of grief at least four times a weekend.

but it seemed today the universe had been a little bored, and so decided to find entertainment in burdening a poor, unsuspecting american race car driver with one minor inconvenience after another.

firstly, his alarm hadn't woken him up. correction: it had woken him up, just thirty minutes after it was supposed to.

secondly, his pride in managing to get dressed with an impressive five minutes to spare was quickly dissipated when he couldn't find his keys or wallet. the hunt had set him back another ten minutes (because why on earth would he think to check the cutlery drawer until he had run out of other possible options?).

and, for good measure, he'd tripped over his own welcome mat in his mad dash out of his apartment. so, yeah, it had been a morning, to put it lightly.

logan cursed to himself as he all but jogged down the busy street, eyes desperately scanning every building he passed in search of a cafe. he was too frantic to read any shop signs, but when he witnessed two girls walking out of a doorway clutching two paper cups, he knew he'd struck gold.

fucking finally.

logan offered the pair a tight lipped smile as he slipped past them and into the cafe, letting a sigh of relief escape his lips as the familiar smell of strong, freshly brewed coffee hit him.

this was more than worth being late for, he decided. he'd pick up a few extra coffees, as an apology, a courtesy of some kind. who could be mad with a cup of coffee in their hand? though logan figured he was allowed to be a little lax in his timings anyways, since he was no longer in his rookie year at williams. the team would forgive him quick enough.

trainer-clad feet led him towards the back of the fairly short queue leading up to the counter, and logan took the opportunity to slip his phone out from his coat pocket and shoot a quick text to alex. he hoped his teammate wouldn’t mind bearing the responsibility of updating the rest of the team on his whereabouts.

‘sorry, overslept. omw now though, bringing coffee as an apology and effort to keep my head’.

three laughing emojis quickly flared up onto logan’s lockscreen, and he took that as a positive sign.

it was only when logan placed his phone back into his pocket that he realised just how close he was to the front of the line, and immediately began rehearsing his order. sure, he ordered the same thing practically every single time he got coffee, but with the day he was having, he’d probably find a way to absolutely butcher the simple order.

all he needed was his oat milk latte, a black coffee for james, and some sort of sugary, overly sweet concoction for alex. he doubted this place sold the pumpkin spiced lattes that he loved to tease alex about ordering, so he’d just have to find the next best thing.

only, when he finally stepped up to the counter and opened his mouth to order, his mind went blank.

standing only a few feet in front of him was the most gorgeous person logan had ever seen, and considering he’d travelled the world and met countless different women and men over the years, that was an impressive achievement.

you, luckily, hadn’t noticed the internal reboot logan was experiencing, and focused instead on offering him a warm smile and greeting.

“morning! what can i get for you today?” you asked, finger poised and ready to input his order into the till in front of you.

logan barely managed to stop himself from physically shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, before pasting a crooked grin of his own onto his lips.

“good morning,” he returned, voice a little quiet before he cleared his throat and spoke up again. “can i just get a large black americano, large oat milk latte, and uh,” logan paused, eyes quickly scanning the board in front of him as he weighed up all of the different syrups available.

vanilla, caramel, hazelnut, and oh, thank god, cinnamon. that was close enough to pumpkin spice, right?

“and a large cinnamon latte, please. oh, to take out.” he finished, finally returning his eyes to you as you skillfully rang through his order.

“ah, great choice,” you commented, your smile still never having left your lips.

from the moment he’d opened his mouth, you’d quickly registered the accent, though opted not to comment on it despite how pleasing it was to your ears. of course there were no shortage of americans stepping into the cafe everyday, but there was something about his in particular that caused your ears to perk up a little more. maybe it was down to the person it was attached to, instead.

“and is that everything for you today?” you continued, snapping back into following what you’d aptly dubbed your ‘service speech’, a routine that ensured you didn't stumble over your words to every customer you served.

“that’s all, yeah.” logan responded with another small smile.

“perfect. that’ll be nine eighty there.”

"great, thank you."

logan quickly pulled out his phone to pay, though as his eyes caught the small jar sat on the counter, ‘tips’ scrawled onto a label in nice handwriting, he wished he was paying by cash. a flash of hope ran through him as he dug his hand into his jean pocket, and he had never been more relieved to feel some spare change brush against his fingertips.

barely even bothering to count how much was there – it looked to be about three pounds, but he could have been wrong - logan dropped it into the jar, offering you a sheepish smile. he felt a little foolish, paying by card and fumbling around for some cash, but the look on your face was more than worth it.

“thank you,” you repeated with a soft laugh. “should be ready for you in two minutes.”

logan couldn’t bring himself to speak again, so simply nodded and moved to walk to the point he would collect his drinks from. before that, though, he would grant himself one, small privilege.

his eyes quickly found your name badge, and he scanned it as subtly as he could before he walked away, the name replaying over and over in his mind like a broken record. but, no. broken records were annoying, an inconvenience, something to fix or throw out. your name was anything but.

not even five minutes after he’d placed his order were his drinks placed onto the counter, each labelled appropriately to save for any confusion. a cupholder had also been provided, which logan was eternally grateful for. he didn’t think the three drinks would survive the short journey otherwise. as a treat to himself, he took a small sip from his latte and almost swore. logan didn’t believe in magic, but he was sure that this coffee was somehow laced with it. never had a simple oat latte tasted so good to him.

and, he thought, a little embarrassingly, never had someone looked so good making one, either.

“see you later!” you called from behind the till, lifting your hand in a gesture that could be perceived as a wave, but also an attempt to smooth your hair a little.

logan nodded and gave you a smile. you would definitely see him later. he had just found his new favourite coffee shop, and he wasn’t going to give it up any time soon.

☕️ . . . there it is , the first instalment !! i loved writing this so much - and actually did so with a cinnamon iced latte of my own , as alex and i are actually one and the same ! hope you all enjoyed , and thank you for reading <3

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #₊ ⊹ barista!reader #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant blurb #logan sargeant drabble #formula one x reader #formula one x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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from-the-clouds · 11 months

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xiv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | chapter summary: The final chapter pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 9.2k (I love being insane) chapter warnings: SMUT (18+only) - unprotected sex. Insecurity/Jealousy. Angst/arguments. Discussions of death, blood and injuries. Alcohol & Marijuana use. Fluff. Bisexual reader (happy pride ya'll!). As always please dm for more specifics. a/n: This could probs use another round of proofreading but it would've delayed this even longer sooooo.... Here we go! I feel pretty emo right now and I might make a more in-depth post about my thoughts at a later date bc I just finished writing this in a hot daze so I can't put all my thoughts coherently together. But I just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported and gave love to this story. This is by far the most popular fic I've ever written, and I don't really know how? Or what I did to deserve all the love but I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. Thank you for sticking with me through all the angst and delayed updates and everything. I'll never forget you and I'll never forget Joel x Reader!! Thank you so much, I hope the finale lives up to your expectations! ❤️

**I DO NOT HAVE A TAGLIST. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialize I seem to lean on old familiar ways….

-May 16, 2024-

“Are you sure you’re okay if I leave you here alone?”

Ethan’s voice jolts you out of a daze, and you blink your eyes open, realizing that you’d dozed off while sitting upright in a patio chair, the cheesy romance novel you’d been reading still lying open on your lap. Turning to look over your shoulder, you find him standing with one foot on the deck, and one foot still inside, cut in half by the sliding glass door.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and nod. “Of course. I’ll be fine.”

Ethan studies you carefully, like he’s not entirely convinced. He’s been hesitant to leave you alone unless it’s absolutely necessary – only stepping away from the house to go on patrol shifts and to bring home meals from the mess hall. Recovery has made you feel like a burden to him – to all your friends in the community, really. Everyone….well, almost everyone, has been supportive, but you’ve never been comfortable being openly vulnerable.

Unfortunately, it’s too hard to deny the pain that you’ve been in since the accident, the trouble you have getting around, the exhaustion that clings no matter how many long naps and twelve-hour nights of sleep you get. According to the doctors, being so tired is just part of recovery – rest is important, but the concoction of pain medication you’ve been prescribed only makes your drowsiness and confusion worse. It had been a big deal that tonight you’d mustered the energy to drag yourself outside to sit in the fresh air.

“I’m fine,” you assure Ethan, once again. “Have fun on your date.”

“It’s not really a date,” he says, almost a little too quickly. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” you say, matter-of-factly. “Do I know who this person is?”

Ethan looks at his feet. “You remember the day this shit happened?” he asks, gesturing towards you. “Before you left on patrol, the girl that said hi to me? It’s her. Her name is Alex.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, give him a small smile. “She was cute. How’d you ask her out?”

“Well,” he begins, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have…uh, gotten some advice.”

“You didn’t think to ask me?” you’re able to muster up a small smile.

“I would’ve, I just…..” he shakes his head. “It seemed stupid…with everything you have going on.”

“It’s not stupid,” you say, feeling a wave of guilt. Even though he’s the one looking after you, you haven’t spoken to him much about anything going on in his life. In fact, you haven’t really spoken to anyone in a long time, beyond thank you’s and blanket statements like I’m doing better. You feel disconnected, and more lonely than ever. If you ever get enough energy to leave your house, you expect most of the people in the community to have forgotten you exist. “Who’d you ask?”

“Uhm….” Ethan runs a hand through his long dark hair, shifts his weight. “….I’ve been assigned on patrol with Joel Miller a lot lately….so….”

You almost laugh when he uses Joel’s full name. Joel has been such a huge part of your life – sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain – that you don’t need to hear his last name to know who Ethan’s talking about. You could know a thousand Joel’s, and he’d still be the first person that came to mind. But Joel is still a sore subject, and Ethan knows it, which is why you suspect he’s avoided telling you this in the first place. You feel your eyebrows knit together, only able to let out an unenthused. “Oh.”

“I just, you know….he’s a guy. And it sounds like you even liked him at one point so….he must know something, right?”

“That was a long time ago,” you say quickly, regardless of the fact that he’s right.

It’s probably not fair to blame Joel for everything that has happened to you. You know this, deep down. But you’ve been so helpless and isolated since you’ve woken up in that hospital bed that you’re desperate to find someone to hold accountable. And Joel hadn’t visited you in the hospital once. By this point, he’s abandoned you so many times that your resentment feels justified, even if your current state is not directly his fault. Because it was you, after all, who had walked into the path of those men, too angry to think clearly, too weak to take them down alone. The only person you can blame is yourself, and you really don’t want to.

“Did he tell you to take her out on patrol, make her cry, and almost get her killed?”

Ethan clicks his tongue, looks down, almost ashamed. “No. He did not.”

“You should be careful with Joel,” you warn.

“I was…” Ethan says. “But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he’s actually alright.”

“So you’re friends with him now,” you state, hoping he refutes. But instead, he looks up at you, frowns, and lifts his chin.

“What happened to you was horrible. It shouldn’t have happened. And yeah, maybe you think he’s the reason you almost died…. I don’t know the specifics so you can believe whatever you want. But I know that he’s the reason you’re still alive.” Ethan’s voice breaks, and you feel tears brimming your eyes before he continues. “He brought you back here, he donated his blood, he-”

“What?” you cut him off.

“What do you mean, what?” Ethan asks. “He was the only person there who had your blood type. You would’ve died if he didn’t. They didn’t tell you this?”

“Whatever it took to make him feel less guilty, sounds like,” you say, dismissively.

Something hot burns in your veins, something that must have always been there since you woke up, but you’re only feeling it now. It’s unsettling, Joel being a part of you that way. Your lives had already seemed intertwined enough already. But now, he’s inescapable.

“Well, he stayed by your side every night while you were asleep. Fuck, I mean, he was probably there just as often as I was. He made sure I ate, and slept and showered and… and he never once asked for anything in return. He cares about you as much as I do, clearly, so I don’t think it’s wrong to think he’s a good guy….”

You must not care about me that much, you want to say, but you stop yourself. Because it’s not true, and you’d only be saying it to hurt him. You have nothing to defend yourself with, no way to convince him otherwise, and so you just stare at him until he shakes his head and slips back inside.

Ethan is stubborn, he always has been. And it’s a special kind of stubbornness, fueled by anger – so common in most of the young people you meet these days. You understand why they’re all like this. When you’re robbed of your childhood – you get stuck there….waiting….. Like someday you’ll have a chance to do it all over again, regardless of how obvious it is that you won’t.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 25, 2024-

Things get better, albeit slowly. You begin to wean off the pain medication, which makes you more alert. It’s still difficult to leave your house, but you can move around it more easily, and you don’t spend all your days sleeping. Luckily, you aren’t as stir-crazy as you’d been expecting.

One afternoon, Ellie Williams shows up on your doorstep with a bag full of groceries.

“Maria wanted me to bring these to you,” she says when you open the door. “She told me to tell you she’ll be over tomorrow, but she wanted me to give you these to tide you over.”

“That’s very nice. Thank you for bringing them to me,” you try to take the bag from her hands, but she steps back just a little, like she’s unsure if you should be carrying anything. You let your hands drop to your sides. “Would you like to come in?”

Ellie hesitates for a split second, adjusting the bag in her arms, and then nods. “Sure.”

Stepping to the side, you allow her into the home. Because of how warm it is outside, you’ve opened all the windows to let the breeze through.

“Sorry for the mess,” you say, Ellie following you into the living room. There are stacks of books and pill bottles with instructions scattered on your countertop. You haven’t swept the floors in awhile and all the hard surfaces are covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s not really that bad, but you don’t have the energy or strength to be on your feet for long – let alone to clean the house.

“I don’t mind,” Ellie says. “It’s not even that bad. I don’t know why older people worry about leaving your house messy and shit….no offense.”

“There was a time it used to matter,” you tell her. “And I see where you’re coming from, but my thing is – if you’re going to live somewhere, you should do what you can to make yourself feel comfortable.”

Ellie purses her lips, as if you’ve made a good point but she doesn’t know how to answer. Instead, you continue. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“No, I’m okay,” she puts the bag on your kitchen counter.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you tell her. “I just need a moment to put these away.”

When you walk into your living room a few minutes later, she’s hovering near your record player, looking through the vinyls. The turntable was already in the house when you’d arrived years ago, but it was buried in the closet and broken. Ethan had managed to fix it after a little troubleshooting and scavenging for parts. Now, you both were always looking for records to bring home, and had amassed quite the eclectic collection – jazz, funk, hip-hop, and everything in between.

“Wow,” Ellie says, running her fingers along the shelved records. “You found all these?”

“Some of them were already here. But yeah. Ethan and I are always on the lookout on patrol. I can play you something. What do you like?”

“Eighties, I think,” she says. “But…I also haven’t heard as much.”

“Well here,” you thumb through the records, pull out a worn copy of Speaking In Tongues. “How about some Talking Heads?”

You pass the record over to her, and she stares at you blankly. It’s only then that you realize — she’s never used a record player before. There’s a familiar pang of sadness before you show her how.

“Are you feeling better?” Ellie eyes you wearily once the music starts, and you settle onto the couch, feeling a little worn out after being on your feet.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m older now, so it seems like healing takes a lot more time.”

Ellie nods, then bobs her head to the music a little. “This is better than most of the stuff Joel likes.”

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, and instinctually, you recall his enthusiasm for all things old-school country. “I remember that,” you say softly.

With so much time on your hands lately, you’ve found yourself thinking of Joel a lot, reminiscing on the time you’d spent with him and Sarah. What Ethan had told you about him staying by your side was definitely making you reconsider your assessment of him, even if you were still hesitant. It was probably a trap to think you’d ever be able to feel those things with him again, but if remembering them brought you comfort, you weren’t going to resist it.

“You’re more than welcome to come over to listen anytime,” you offer, and she nods excitedly.

Ellie stays for longer than you expect. You talk a fair bit. She tells you about what she’s learning in school – but mostly how ‘fucking useless’ it is. She wanders around your living room and pokes through your stuff without asking, but you don’t think to stop her – you just answer her questions and let her be curious.

Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, and she excuses herself to go home, insisting that Joel will ‘fucking kill her’ if she’s out too late. Even though you’re exhausted after entertaining her for a few hours, you find it feels nice. Being on house arrest, essentially, had left your starved for connection outside Maria and Ethan.

You see her out the door before returning to your refrigerator to look for something to eat. Ethan will be back from patrol any minute, so it may be nice to make him something even if you have almost no energy.

But when there’s another knock on your front door, you’re shocked to see who you find staring on your porch.

Joel.

You almost forget to speak at the sight of him. It’s been weeks since your accident and he might as well have moved away from Jackson since you hadn’t seen him at all.

“Hey,” you say, tentatively, taking him in. He seems preoccupied – cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, and out of breath, like he had run all the way to get here.

“Have you seen Ellie?” he asks, not even greeting you in return. “I’ve looked everywhere and I-

“You just missed her,” you cut him off, not because you’re trying to dismiss him, but because he's clearly distressed. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her on your way over.”

Joel sighs, eyes closing in relief. “Thank God.” For a second, you glimpse the frazzled and overworked father you used to know. “She stayed out too late, had me worried sick.”

“She’s fine,” you say. “Although she did say you might kill her if she didn’t get home soon.”

Joel gives you an almost imperceptible smile, but seems mostly irritated by Ellie’s suggestion. “I would do no such thing.” He shakes his head and takes two steps backwards. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to be a bother.”

Your mind floats to a memory of Joel on your front porch, late getting home from work and looking for Sarah, and you can’t help but feel a bit of sadness and longing for a simpler time, a surge of affection.

Joel is halfway down your front porch steps when you speak again. “You aren’t bothering me.”

He pauses, turns to look over his shoulder. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, and you step outside, letting the door fall shut behind you and remaining huddled against the siding, and he turns to face you fully, sighing. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, actually….”

“Oh…really?” you can’t keep the surprise from your voice, and he notices.

“Yeah,” Joel rubs his fingers together, a nervous habit of his you know all too well. “Yeah. I- well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You’re so startled by the words you can’t answer right away. But the split second of hesitation causes Joel to continue, looking to fill the empty space.

“I’ve been waiting to find the right thing to say….but it doesn’t seem like that’ll ever happen. I’m not even sure I know where to start.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage, still taken aback. The only thing that doesn’t surprise you about his admission is the sincerity. You could say a lot of things about Joel, but he isn’t a liar. He always tells the truth. Maybe it’s why he pulled away from you to begin with. It’s easier than the alternative – spending time with you, which would force him to be honest. For how much you’ve changed, you’d probably do the same.

But the thing with Joel is that you’re exhausted. You’re tired of the back and forth, of the push and pull, of the constant struggle to hold your care over each other's head, hoping the other will break first. Maybe this is a fresh start.

You step closer to him, and you see him study the way you move. Of course, you’re trying to look strong, but he can surely sense the weakness. He’d always been good at that, better than any of the others. Your hand comes to rest on the porch railing for support.

But…..

There’s that voice in the back of your head, the one that tells you this is a mistake. The one that reminds of the pain you’ve often earned through vulnerability. It likes to think it’s served you, protected you, and it has. But it’s not always right.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, too,” you say. “At the very least I should thank you for what you did.”

Joel shakes his head, dismissively, but looks to where your hand rests on the porch railing, looks back up to you as he reaches out. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

His hand clasps over yours, and to anyone else, this might be nothing. It’s so innocent, unassuming. But the effect it has on you is palpable. He squeezes once, and you flip your hand over, squeezing his back, giving him a gentle smile. “I am too.”

Joel’s eyes fill with a warmth you haven’t seen in twenty years, and your stomach flutters, your heart races. A part of yourself that you’d considered long dead seems to rouse.“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I told Ellie we’d go to the mess hall together,” Joel says. “Otherwise I would.”

You blink once, and Joel sees it, immediately continuing on. “But maybe Ellie and I can come another time, join you and Ethan?”

“Yeah. He’d like that,” you say. “That might be nice.” ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 20, 2024-

You think that at the end of a long winter, bears must hate coming out of hibernation.

It must suck. They spend months sleeping, doing almost nothing, and then suddenly they’re forced to function again – to hunt, to eat, to roam, to survive and socialize. You imagine there has to be a learning curve, a desire to crawl back into their den and never leave again.

Or maybe you could be wrong, and they love it. And you’re just a wimp who hates feeling uncomfortable.

All you know is that you’re huddled in the back corner of the Tipsy Bison, nursing a whiskey – and it’s the last place you want to be.

You’re overwhelmed.

And despite the fact that you regularly used to attend community events, it’s been so long since you've been out in Jackson that you feel like you don’t belong. To some extent, you’ve always felt this – too hardened by the outside world to fully assimilate, especially when the town throws dances. But in the past, you at least attempted to convince yourself otherwise.

Two weeks back, the doctors had cleared you to go about your daily activities as normal – within reason, of course – but you hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity. Tonight, Ethan had accused you of becoming ‘antisocial’ and ‘reclusive’. You had agreed to attend – but only to beat those allegations. So far, you are definitely not.

You scan the crowd, taking in the people spinning around the dance floor. Some of the women are wearing dresses. You can’t help but feel a little envious of how easily they’re able to perform femininity, which is something you’d given up on a while ago. It hadn’t exactly served you before arriving in Jackson, and you predict it would be humiliating to start trying now. After all the things you’d experienced, you were left marred with scars and wrinkles, stretch marks and loose skin. Since then, you’ve remained loyal to the combination of men’s denim and tank tops with flannel-button downs overtop.

It doesn’t always stop the men in the community from descending like vultures. You might be the last pick – there are plenty others who are younger and prettier – but you’re still an option. Bea, your old partner, had always theorized that some men were particularly drawn to sapphic women, that it was ‘the ultimate challenge’. Maybe there is some truth to her theory, but you like men….sometimes. So there is always a part of you that yearns for their validation, for as many times as you tell yourself you don’t want it. But it never feels good to get it after you’ve watched them exhaust all their other options.

It’s pathetic, but it makes you think of Joel. He and Ellie had been over to yours and Ethans last week for a nice dinner, and you had tried to gauge whether there was any romantic connection between you still. Occasionally, you’d caught him looking at you with a wistful smile, but he could have been lost in thought. It’s not like you needed that from him or anything, but it might be useful information. After all this time, Joel is still so handsome, and probably has an impressive selection of potential partners here in Jackson – women of all ages. You hope he’s not here tonight – you can’t see much besides the dance floor at this point – because the thought of him cozied up to anyone here, combined with the acrid taste of the drink in your hand, makes you want to gag.

You take another look around the room. Eugene, your partner in crime – quite literally – is walking towards you, which helps quell your spiraling mind . If you talk to him, say hello to Tommy and Maria, maybe Ethan will see the effort you’re making and you can sneak out without having to deal with anyone. It’s wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot. The sooner you can get home tonight, the better.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel can’t stop staring.

He knows it’s impolite. He knows that he’s not being subtle. He knows that if any other person in this bar followed his eyeline, they’d pick up on what he was doing in an instant. But every minute he doesn’t get called out for it, he becomes more and more emboldened.

It’s the first dance he’s ever been to in Jackson, and the only reason he’s here is to placate Ellie and Tommy. But even they have abandoned him in favor of better companions – his brother is deep in conversation with Maria, sitting across from him in a booth, and Ellie is out on the dance floor dancing with one of her new friends, Dina.

Joel just can’t help himself. He still feels guilty for what he’s done, but he can’t shake the feeling of a soft hand clasped within his own – the first time he’d felt any semblance of hope since arriving here. Tommy and Maria had already slyly let him know about all the women who were interested, but he couldn’t bring himself to entertain their advances. There’s only one he wants, and she won’t even look in his direction.

When he’d first noticed you, you were whispering with Eugene on the opposite side of the dance floor. According to Tommy, you spend a fair bit of your time with the old man, which Joel initially thought to mean that you had some sort of entanglement. At first, Joel thought that couldn’t be possible. But you were deep in focus as you listened to Eugene’s words, nodding and leaning in closer and closer, and Joel thinks Tommy might be right. He wants to understand what you see in this man – tall and unkempt, covered in tattoos with long, graying hair and a beard to match. But Joel catches himself in his judgment, he’s probably just as unappealing – not just because of how he’s aged, but because of how horrible he’s been to you in general.

The next time Joel sees you, you’re at the bar, chatting with a man who Maria had introduced him to not long ago, a resident who is new in town. Joel had been too busy focusing on the fact that he’d been in Jackson long enough to not be its newest resident that he couldn’t remember his name. He wishes he had, so he could keep tabs on him. Of course, he can’t blame the man for being drawn to you – Joel knows very well that you’re hard to miss in a crowd.

Still, Joel bristles when you both step away from the bar, and the man’s hand lands just above your sacrum. He actually finds himself tensing up, resisting the urge to intervene, because it’d likely only make you angry. Plus, maybe you are interested. That question is answered quickly when you reach behind your to clasp the man's hand and place it back at his side. Where it belongs, he thinks.

“Joel!”

He snaps his attention to what’s in front of him – interrupted, and probably for good measure, lest he get himself too worked up. Ethan approaches with a girl his age, her arm linked through his. Joel stands to greet them.

The terse understanding between himself and Ethan while you were still in the hospital had somehow turned into a friendship, especially after they’d begun getting paired up on patrol. Ethan reaches out for Joel’s hand to dap him up, slinging an arm briefly over his shoulder.

“How’s it going, kid?”

“Good, good,” Ethan nods, pulling back, and gestures to the girl next to him. “Joel, this is Alex.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “Ethan’s told me all about you.”

“Really?” Joel asks, feeling a little bewildered.

“Only good things,” Alex says quickly, as if she senses his apprehension. Ethan puts his arm around her waist. Joel recalls a few weeks back when he’d asked for advice on how to ask out a girl. Joel hadn’t pried at the time, but now he seems to understand, and is surprised by the swell of pride he feels. “Ethan says you’re a fucking badass,”she giggles after she swears.

Joel looks over at Ethan. “I don’t know about that.”

He shrugs, changes the subject. “Since when do you come to these things?” Ethan asks.

“Ellie dragged me out,” Joel answers.

“I did the same with my aunt,” Ethan chuckles. “But now I can’t find her, and I’m pretty sure she’s escaped.”

“Oh, is she here?” Joel plays dumb, like he hasn’t been aware of exactly where you have been all night. “I haven’t seen her.”

“I think she was with Eugene earlier,” Alex has to stand on her toes to speak into Ethan’s ear. Joel watches Ethan’s nose wrinkle.

“Do you know Eugene at all?” Ethan turns to Joel. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on there, but she won’t say anything.”

Joel wishes that he had more information. “Tommy says they seem close.”

“I know that,” Ethan says. “I wish she would just be honest with me. It’s not like I would be mad. Whatever,” he shakes his head. “We can talk about it another time. I just want to find her so I can introduce her to Alex.”

“We should say hi to Tommy and Maria first,” Alex says, and Ethan nods in agreement before saying goodbye to him. Joel claps a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he moves past him, and Alex gives him a shy smile in acknowledgement.

Focusing back on the crowd, Joel realizes that you’ve vanished in the short span of his last interaction. Maybe you’d rejected that guy, and then he’d retaliated. Maybe you’d gone home with Eugene. Joel shakes his hand. It’s none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved. It’s not his job to look after you, regardless of how much better he feels when he does. Old instincts. He can’t help himself.

He settles on watching Ellie and Dina spin each other around on the dance floor. Eventually, Tommy and Maria, then Ethan and Alex all trickle out of the booth to go get another round or head to dance. Joel stands to release the booth to someone who actually needs it – and is left in the corner, nursing a nearly empty beer that’s now flat and warm. He looks towards his family and friends, but for some reason, he still feels alone.

Joel isn’t sure how long he stands sulking, but he starts when someone approaches from behind.

“Having fun?”

You’re a pace or two back, one thumb hooked through a belt loop, a whiskey in your opposite hand. Joel looks back at the crowd a moment, then at the ground. “No.”

“Neither am I,” you commiserate, stepping alongside him.

Joel considers offering that Ethan was looking for you, but selfishly does not want to give you a reason to leave, so he stays quiet. You observe the dance floor like he is, smiling slightly at the sight of Ethan and Alex dancing. The flannel you’re wearing over a gray tank hangs loosely off one shoulder, and Joel wants to reach out and touch the exposed skin. You take your last sip of whiskey, bring a finger to swipe under your bottom lip, and Joel wishes he knew what you might taste like right now. He scolds himself for fantasizing.

You don’t speak either, and you stand in silence for a while, until you eventually pop your hip, shifting closer to him. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re already standing so close that your arm gets pressed up against his. Neither of you acknowledge the contact, but Joel is acutely aware of how your skin burns hot against his own. He feels comforted by the affection, even if it’s unintentional.

“Want to leave?” Joel asks, and can hardly believe that the words came out of his mouth, even if he wanted them to.

You look over at him, not bothering to hide your surprise, but your expression evens out quickly, and you give him a single nod. “Yeah.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s still not convinced this is real. It feels too much like a dream, the weather outside is so pleasantly warm it feels like he’s floating as you walk down the street. He had never expected you to agree to leave with him, and now he doesn’t know what to do, or what to say.

The greater distance you put between yourselves and the bar, the quieter the town is. Most of Jackson’s residents are at the dance, save for the guards at the front gate and the handful of people that had been mingling just outside.

He heads in the general direction of the neighborhood, even though he lives on a different street.

“What are we supposed to do now?” you wonder out loud, and you sound a little incredulous, like you’re equally as shocked to find yourself beside him. The question carries a bit more weight than it would have coming from anyone else.

Joel contemplates. He’s not sure what he wants from you – there are a lot of things, actually – but he doesn’t know if he really deserves any of them. For now, your companionship is more than enough.

“You’re welcome to come back to mine,” he offers. “But if you’re looking to keep drinking, all the booze is back at the bar.”

“I’m good.” You shake your head like you’re uninterested, but look over at him with a sparkle in your eye. “I have something better….”

You reach into the pocket of your flannel and produce a rolled joint between two fingers, looking over your shoulder. “Those dances are usually terrible, so I always come prepared.”

Joel can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, and the sheepish grin he gets in return makes his cheeks feel warm. “Where’d you even get that?”

“You’ve never been on patrol with Eugene, have you?” you ask. “He has a place just out of town where he grows it. I’ve been helping him since we first got paired up, and in exchange, I get to sample the supply.”

Of course. Joel would’ve never imagined that was the reason you were so close with Eugene, but it suddenly makes incredible sense. He shakes his head in a combination of relief and amusement. “You really haven’t changed.”

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” you answer, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground. “But of course I haven’t shaken all my bad habits.”

“That’s not true,” Joel mutters.

“Well, you haven’t changed either, for as much as you’ve tried to convince me,” you nudge him gently, offering him the joint. “What do you think?”

Joel plucks it from between your fingers and puts it between his lips. “I think I have a lighter at home.”

“Sounds perfect.”

In the front hallway of his house, you slip out of your tennis shoes, shuffling behind him in your socks, pausing occasionally to study some of the doodles that Ellie had drawn and hung on the walls – it wasn’t exactly a priority to decorate these days, but they certainly livened up the place. He knows how much Ellie likes you, despite the fact that she doesn’t gush, but the odd comment here and there says as much. Joel remembers how difficult it had been to keep Sarah away, and Ellie now is no different. He doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, either.

You sit next to Joel on his wicker couch, curling your feet up under you as he lights the joint and study him while he takes the first few puffs. He does it without thinking. That’s how soft Jackson has made him. Normally, he’d be too stressed about being out of his wits. But he can’t see how hypervigilance has served him since settling down. He feels safe here, and somehow especially because he’s with you.

When he passes the joint your way, you look at him wistfully. “Old times,” you say with a grin.

Joel nods as he exhales, coughing. “Old times.”

“Oh yeah,” you say, as if you just remembered something. “You can’t tell Ethan about this. He doesn’t know, and he will give me shit about it. I need him to take me seriously.”

Joel shakes his head. “Well, you know, it sounds like he and Tommy both think you and Eugene are together.”

“What?” your head jerks forward in shock, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, no. Do people think that?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel wants to mention how he had seen you whispering to each other at the bar earlier, but then realizes it’d give a bit too much away. “That’s what they think.”

“Well....historically speaking I might’ve liked older men…. but not that old.”

Joel purses his lips. “You’ve lived here awhile, huh?” When you nod, he continues. “Has no one caught your eye?”

“Uhm….not really. But….” you trail off, looking into Joel’s backyard. “To be completely honest, I don't think about that much these days. I guess I feel like I have a lot to be grateful for. I don’t want to push it.”

Joel understands, and nods pensively.

“What about you?” you ask.

“I guess I feel the same.”

That causes you to smile a little bit, look over at him. “I bet you already know this. But the women here would line up down the block for you.”

Joel can’t help but roll his eyes, though he wonders if you would, too. Even if you did like him, that didn’t seem like your style.

“I’m serious. I’ve heard the things they whisper behind your back. All their fantasies about you are pretty creative...”

“Fantasies?” He grimaces. He imagines none of them know anything about who he really is. You’re the closest thing, and all he’s done is hurt you. “I’m sure you were quick to set them straight.”

“I don’t say anything,” you say, then continue on, a little quieter, looking at him from under your lashes. “I like to keep you to myself.”

Joel isn’t sure how to respond to that. You have every right to tell all of them that you were once together, and all the ways he’s hurt you since. Yet for some reason, you’ve chosen to protect him.

“So….all this time….” you wonder. “You had to have been with other people, right?”

Joel doesn’t think to hold back. “I had a partner for a long time. Tess. First, it was all business, I helped her smuggle things in and out of the Boston QZ…and then, I don’t know….we got along, we trusted each other and…” Joel trails off, hoping you’d put together the rest before he has to go into too much detail. “She was real fuckin’ tough. Scared me a little at first. You would’ve liked her.”

“Well, we already have one thing in common. What happened?”

“She’s the whole reason I ended up out here….with Ellie,” Joel explains. “But I lost her a little over a year ago.”

He hopes you don’t ask how. Maybe someday he’d be willing to go into detail, but talking about it generally is hard enough as it is. But fortunately, you seem to pick up on his hesitance. “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say softly.

He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. To her. I should've....after Sarah died I didn’t want to get attached, so I kept her at arms length and I... I wished I hadn’t in the end. It only made things worse.”

“Yeah,” you nod, look down. “I’ve made that mistake before.”

Joel doesn’t want to linger any longer on the memory. “What about you? Were you with anyone?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you fidget, looking uncomfortable. “I had a partner….for like ten years."

Ten years? He had been with Tess for more, but something about that information feels jarring. He’s shocked Tommy never told him this. Did Tommy even know? Suddenly, it dawns on Joel everything that could’ve happened to you since you’ve been apart. Entire lifetimes. And he’d said such horrible things when you’d fought. He remembers your face when he’d told you that you didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. Maybe you had. He’d been so cruel and inconsiderate just because he was uncomfortable.

His throat feels tight, almost scared to learn anymore. “What…what was his name?”

“Well, Bea….was her name.”

Joel is sure he doesn't hide the shock well. “Sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I did either. Well, I sort of did, but I was too young I think when I first realized to make any sense of it, but…. I met her and…yeah,” then, you smirk. “I mean, I went to an all-girls school and I had a really bad relationship with my dad so…it definitely makes sense. ”

Joel considers this, smiles along with you. “But anyways. Her and I met shortly after my brother died and it was kind of the same. We kept each other alive, things developed from there. We ended up getting involved with this group who lived in the middle of nowhere. That’s a whole other story, but…” you wave your hand. “I loved her, and I lost her right before Ethan and I got here.”

Joel sees all the pain in your eyes, and wishes he could say something to take it all away. He knows he can’t. You look back out into the woods in his backyard, take a deep breath, and reach back towards the joint that you had put out not long before, lighting it again. Joel gets the sense that both of you had done the most amount of sharing possible for the time being.

“Look at us,” you take another drag before passing it over. “Old times.”

“Old times,” he repeats, a smile working its way onto his face.

“This used to be my favorite thing to do with you.”

“It was nice,” Joel agrees….hesitates before continuing. “But I can think of some things I liked better.” He gives you a knowing look, and you roll your eyes, laughing easily at his joke. It feels so good to make you laugh, to see you smile. Why had he spent so much time resisting?

“Touche.”

What happens next spills out of Joel so quickly he doesn’t think to stop it. “I tried to look for you….after all this happened. I didn’t have Sarah anymore, and I thought maybe….I don’t know. It was the only thing that kept me going for a while.”

“I did too,” you confess. “But…I was with Vincent and Ethan, and I felt like I couldn’t leave them alone for something that might just be…. I always hoped you both made it. And I’m so sorry she’s gone. I really did love her.”

“I know you did,” Joel reaches out to take your hand. “I know. And I shouldn’t have said those things I did. I’m still not sure why you’ve been so patient with me.”

“Hmm,” you shift so that you’re closer to him. “You waited around for me back then. It’s only fair that I’d wait around for you now. I want you in my life. I don’t care what that looks like. But it’s too hard to forget about a person that you loved.”

Joel wants as much from you as you’re willing to give, and he can’t tear his gaze away from you. But he wants you to see him, all of him, before he takes it.

“I’ve let a lot of people down. I’ve done a lot of h-horrible things,” his voice cracks, and tears well in his eyes.

“I have, too, you know? Those things still live with me. But I think what matters is who we are now,” you reach out, fingertips brushing the scar on his temple, and Joel swears that even if you don’t know the story behind it, you can see right through him. “And I know who you are.”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”

“You won’t,” you say. “No more than anyone else has. And if it makes you feel better…when people hurt me, I’ve gotten pretty good at hurting them back.”

“If I do, I’d hope you would.”

“I will. I promise,” your thumb strokes his cheek, marveling at him. “I would suggest a blood oath or something but….I heard we kind of already did that…”

He’s given you every warning, every barrier, and you’re still here. He can’t believe it, and he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. “Come here.”

He kisses you. He wishes that he could be slow and tender and gentle like he used to be – and certainly he’s still capable, but he realizes that he’s been depriving himself of something he wanted for so long, and can’t seem to control himself.

Your hands land on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Maybe you’re somewhat taken aback by his urgency, you hum against his lips, but you don’t resist at all. Joel maneuvers you so you’re straddling his thighs, and he grips your hips, your ass, coasts his hands up your side. Your lips part in a moan, and he slips his tongue into your mouth.

For a while, he stays there, savors the taste of you, whiskey and smoke still lingering on your lips. His hands cup your jaw, feel your body, grip and squeeze and stroke and you let him, continue to let him. He tries everything, wondering if you’ll tell him to stop, if you’ll decide you’ve had too much, but you don’t. Then again, he should know by now that you’re a woman who knows what she wants. He just finds it’s hard to believe that he’s the thing you want.

You break away from him, just a little, and Joel presses his nose to your neck, kisses your pulse point.

“Should we go upstairs?” your voice is raspy and breathless. “Will Ellie be home soon?”

“Probably not for a while. We can be quick.”

“Hopefully not too quick,” you raise your eyebrows. Joel can’t help but laugh a little. He relishes in the way your hands rake up and down his arms, exploring him, touching him. Of course he wants you, but even just this would be enough. He’d be content with less, he hadn’t realized how starved of affection he’d been.

You’re able to pry yourselves off one another to make it up the stairs, and Joel guides you with a hand to the small of your back. When you get to his bedroom, he opens the door, but stops you before you go inside.

“Hold on,” Joel mutters, winding one arm around your waist, the other behind your knee.

“Joel, what-no, you’ll–” he pulls you into his arms.

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough?”

“I didn’t say that,” you chuckle as he carries you over the threshold and into the bedroom, breath puffing against him before he lays you down on the bed.

When he hovers over you, your fingers wind into his hair, nails raking against his scalp. He savors every sweet sigh he’s able to pull from you, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips. You’re so pliant and open beneath his body, it makes it easier to not feel guilty about what he’s doing. He knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, you’ve said as much, but it might take some time before the feeling will die completely. Hopefully, he has enough time with you to see it off completely.

Clothes are removed quickly, intentionally, as you both bare more and more of yourself to each other. And while he wishes he could’ve been there to see the ways in which your body has changed, you’re still as beautiful as ever.

Joel, however, is hesitant to give himself away completely. When you tug at the hem of his shirt, he hesitates.

“I don’t know if-” he pauses. “If you want to see all that.”

“Joel,” you stare at him knowingly, kneeling across from him as he stands at the edge of the bed. “I do.”

So he releases your hand, and lets you pull it over his head. Carefully, you study him, his body littered with scars. He knows he’s not as in shape as you remember. These days, he hardly can look at himself in the mirror after a shower. He expects you to be disgusted, or at least see it flit across your face before you compose yourself, but you don’t. Your fingertips drag through the smattering of hair on his chest and down his torso, tracing several prominent scars – each one with a story – but you linger on the one at his abdomen, frowning.

He sees the question on your face, but you don’t ask it. Instead, you return to press yourself against him. “I’m so glad you’re still here….”

You kiss him, then, and Joel can only kiss you back.

Joel isn’t the only one with battle scars. Some of them he feels are his fault, but you seem less self-concious about them, which gives him a surprising amount of confidence. Maybe it’s just a reality of what happens when you make it this long.

When you’re finally bare beneath him, he admires how you look, stretched out and waiting, chest heaving and shivering with anticipation. He slides his hand between your legs – feels you already wet and warm, sinking two fingers inside. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, back arcing off the bed when you sigh out his name. Joel.

He’d forgotten how nice it felt to hear that.

Joel is already thinking about what he’d like to do to you next time. He’d be more careful, more patient. He’d bury his face between your thighs to see if you tasted as good as he remembers, he’d let your fingers curl into his hair. But right now you both seem desperate for the same thing.

He pumps his cock a few times with his hand, he can’t remember the last time he’d been this hard – the last time he’s wanted anyone this badly. Even with Tess, it had always felt like the both of them were hurrying to scratch an itch, her eyes would wander like she was thinking of other people, and maybe he was, too.

Joel lines himself up with your slick cunt, teases you a little, and you roll your body down to meet him, gasping when his blunt head slides in – just a little.

He can’t hold back. You practically suck him in, so tight and hot around him he finds it immediately overwhelming, but he doesn’t even think to pull out. Only when he’s fully seated inside you, and given you a chance to adjust, does he start to move.

It’s euphoric. You’re both older now, more mature, but he still remembers all the things you liked, even if it takes a moment for him to find the spot inside you that makes you cry out, legs wrapping around his hips.

Unlike before, you don’t bother trying to hide from him. You kiss him, hold him, touch him, look him in the eyes, tell him how good he feels – you don’t hold back. Joel relishes every word you say, clings to the praise and gives it back. Your lashes flutter when he tells you how pretty you look.

He can think of nothing else other than bringing you pleasure, can tell you’re getting close when you begin to rut against him, and he reaches down to let the pads of his fingers slide over your clit.

When you come, you whine his name, lock your lips with his own and he swallows your moans. The feeling of you so impossibly tight and wet and pulsing and squeezing him so tightly has him following closely after.

His head is still buried in the crook of your neck when you speak again. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The second Joel pulls out, he starts missing how close he felt to you. But you fix that by rolling over onto your stomach, curling up at his side, head on his chest, and arm across his stomach.

“Joel. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

He’s far from it. But he’s starting to think if you say it enough, maybe he’ll start to believe it. He turns his head to kiss you gently, slowly. “So are you.”

“We can do this again, right?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, we can.”

“Good,” you settle back against him, and very slowly, he dozes off with you right beside him. He doesn’t want to sleep alone again, and luckily, he doesn’t have to.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-December 4th, 2026-

When you return home from patrol, you find Joel in his living room – boots off and socked feet propped on the arm of the couch. You don’t notice his eyes are closed, that he’s asleep, until you get closer, see the book he’d been reading resting on his chest as he snores lightly. You can’t help but feel for him – he’s probably exhausted from constant patrols, so he must be tired.

But mostly, you’re just overwhelmed by the love you feel for him, catching him in a quiet moment of vulnerability. Hesitantly, you reach out and squeeze his foot. It’s gentle and tender enough that he blinks his eyes open and looks around, taking in his surroundings, rather than jolting awake like he often does. When he sees you on the opposite end of the couch, he melts back into the pillow he’s propped against.

“Hey, stud,” you lean against the arm of the couch.

“Hey,” Joel answers, voice still gruff with sleep. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just got in.”

“Hmm,” Joel closes his eyes again, folds his hands across his stomach.

“You’re wearing the glasses I got you,” you point out. They’re simple. Rectangular black frames. You’d found them on patrol, and brought them home after Joel had been complaining that he could barely see when he read before bed. But he’d tried them on and insisted he hated the way they looked, so you’d ended up using them most of the time.

“They do work,” he grumbles, like he’s ashamed to admit it. “But I still think they look stupid.”

“You look like a sexy librarian,” Joel rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s suppressing a grin. There’s always a bit of defiance about him, he can’t fully admit how you get him so flustered even after you’ve spent so much time together. You press your thumb into the arch of his foot and he groans. “That feel good?” you ask.

“Yes.”

“Whatcha reading?” You gesture towards the book.

“Some book about the moon landing,” Joel lifts it off of his chest, where it lay face down and open, looks at the back cover. “For Ellie.”

“How sweet.”

“It’s a little dry,” he deadpans. “But she likes this stuff.”

You shift your massage to his other foot. Joel stretches, his arms lifting above his head, the shirt he’s wearing rides up just so, so you see a sliver of his lower belly before it disappears again, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Are you tired?” you ask.

“Always,” he says through a yawn.

“Me too,” you yawn along with him, since they’re contagious. He pulls the glasses from their perch on the bridge of his nose and shuts the book, placing them both on the coffee table in front of him. You take your hands off his feet and he sits up a little straighter, holding out his hand.

“Come ‘ere,” he says, and you do.

He grunts as you settle into his arms, head nestled against his chest, sprawling out almost on top of him, the only way you both can fit like this on the couch.

“You’re so warm,” you say softly, letting him wrap his arms around you.

“You’re cold. Your hands are freezing,” he holds them in his own.

“It’s cold out.”

“Don’t know why you left today.”

“Obligations. Patrol.”

“Fuck that.”

You laugh into his chest, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I think we might be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, we don’t really leave the house. We spend all day reading. And we’re old.”

“We’re not that old.”

“But we’re getting up there.”

“Sure, but…” Joel trails off.

“Everything’s so quiet, so calm.”

“I think that’s what most people would describe as content.”

“Are you content?” you ask, lifting your head to look him in the eyes.

“I’m happy,” he says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then don’t worry about the rest.”

“Okay,” you settle back against your husband's chest, feel his lips brush your forehead.

His fingers search absentmindedly for the ring on your finger he’d found while clearing out a pawn shop not too long ago. The one he wore looked nothing like your own. But the marriage had been long overdue, and neither of you cared what the rings actually looked like.

Nowadays, you split your time between his place with Ellie, and your own with Ethan, but end up in his bed every night. At this point, you don’t think you could sleep without him.

Years ago, another lifetime, you’d had a conversation underneath a sky full of stars. You’d told him that for you, good things had never lasted. Joel had made a promise.

This will.

It took time. There was a lot of pain. But in the end, he had told you the truth.

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actual-changeling · 3 months

Text

Welcome back to a meta post that was not supposed to exist, but I fucking love answering questions, so here we are.

i got an ask (the answer contains a tl;dr) about why I think Crowley has unstable relationship patterns, and the following will be a detailed look at why this is the case, how Aziraphale plays into it, and what it ultimately means for the two of them.

This won't be as unhinged as my usual analyses, so consider this a special edition of Alex's unhinged meta corner - now hinged.

As always, please remember that this is my personal interpretation—not a generalization—and that genuine questions are welcome, either here on the post or in my inbox!

Everything I will say is based on research I have done, books & studies, and many, many conversations with my therapist (and at points my psychiatrist too); just so you know I'm not making shit up as I go.

Now, in the context of trauma-related/based disorders, what exactly does it mean to have unstable relationship patterns, and how does it apply to Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship?

Canonically, heaven does not care about what Aziraphale is doing and they are not keeping an eye on him. We know this both from references in the script and their dialogue and what we see throughout the show as a whole. That "fear" of being found out should he openly commit to Crowley is, for the most part, self-fabricated.

Yes, hell would potentially punish him (that potentially is another long post), but that is not something Aziraphale gets to take and use against Crowley, and the fact that does it anyway to 'prove' that he is not behaving incorrectly is a big issue.

What that leaves them with is a very common and well-known relationship pattern that requires a lot of self-awareness, control, and work to break it.

Aziraphale and Crowley get closer, spend more time together, their relationship grows and the intimacy increases, resulting in their behaviour changing to reflect that. They go on more romantic-coded dates (e.g. 1827, whatever the fuck 1941 was), eat together more frequently, drink together and feel comfortable enough to get drunk drunk while in each other's company—which always carries the inherent risk of doing something 'forbidden' while their impulse control is lowered.

I think the second episode of season one is actually a great example for all of this. When they drive to Tadfield, there's a mutually respectful conversation, they tease each other, they bicker like an old married couple, and don't fall into blaming the other for the situation they're in. At the manor, they are openly flirting from the start, laughing about the paintball guns and blowing kisses to miracle away stains, and the wall slam scene honestly speaks for itself.

I wrote a detailed analysis of it right here, which contains the conclusion that the entire interaction was intentional and orchestrated by the two of them.

They are doing great, they're comfortable, intimate—both physically and emotionally—and their sides are already on their asses about the apocalypse, so why not commit to the relationship?

Because Aziraphale gets scared, scared of intimacy, scared of what it would mean for his life, scared of what it would force him to confront (his faith, mostly, which is another gigantic topic), scared of the changes it would bring to their relationship, scared of breaking out of the pattern they have been moving in since the very beginning.

So he pushes, hard. He insults and denies and hurts Crowley to get as far away from all of that as possible. Push & pull, no matter when, no matter why, it's always the same.

At this point you might be thinking Alex, this is all on Aziraphale, how is this also Crowley's unstable relationship pattern? The answer to that question can be roughly summarized in one sentence:

He does not punish or discourage Aziraphale's behaviour.

There are NEVER lasting—if any—negative consequences for Aziraphale when he forces them into the push/pull dynamic, when he insults him, denies their relationship, calls him evil, you name it. No matter what Aziraphale does, Crowley always forgives and forgets and comes back to him, essentially resetting their loop. That way there cannot be any progress because they're not moving a single inch in either direction that isn't carefully organized and controlled by Aziraphale.

Why does Crowley not confront him? Because he is scared too.

Now, THIS is the part where I explain why I said Crowley has unstable relationship patterns. It is important to understand that Aziraphale's kind of instability is only one possible manifestation, and that they are—broadly speaking—on opposite ends of the spectrum, which not only makes them incredibly compatible, but also makes them worse.

Crowley is terrified of losing Aziraphale permanently and being on his own. God rejected him, heaven rejected him, hell rejected him—his life as been one traumatic incident after the other with a strong focus on abandonment and neglect, especially from people he cared about.

He says himself that Aziraphale is his only friend, he doesn't have anyone or anything else. The bookshop is Aziraphale's anchor, but Crowley has nothing except the Bentley and whatever Aziraphale allows him to partake in. Hell can take his job, his flat, punish and torture him as they please, and make his life, well, hell.

With the Bentley only appearing in the early 20th century, for 99% of his life he had nothing except for Aziraphale, his best friend, the person he loves.

So what does he do? He clings, he circles him and tries to push his orbit just a tiny bit closer whenever there's a gap he can use, trying to solidify their relationship. Terrified of being abandoned again, he swallows and ignores everything and anything negative.

The final fifteen are the FIRST TIME that Aziraphale asked him for something and he said no without changing his mind later—and it was literally the worst case scenario, the one boundary he has that he is not willing to cross for him, literally the barest minimum.

Every other time he relented, gave in, apologized for something that wasn't his fault, have Aziraphale everything he wanted from Hamlet over shooting a gun at his face to giving him the Bentley. Crowley's primary objective is to do whatever it takes to avoid being abandoned, so whenever Aziraphale DOES push back and abandons him/says that he will, he panics. He panics even more when there is an outside source threatening Aziraphale's presence in his life.

Look at how frantic he is when he finds Aziraphale after the bandstand, trying to say whatever it takes to get him to come with him. He does the apology dance, gives in when it comes to Gabriel, and never reacts to Aziraphale in a way that would prompt him to re-think the choices he is making, let alone stop doing the push/pull.

His identity revolves around Aziraphale, his only relationship is with Aziraphale, he allows him to shape him to his liking as far as he can take and then some, he needs him to be happy, to enjoy himself, to live a life worth living—and Aziraphale needs him to be and do all of those things so he can keep up his behaviour.

They are dangerously co-dependent and just spiral deeper and deeper until they hit rock bottom and are forced to separate.

Look, I have BPD on top of everything else, I have been in a relationship with this exact pattern in Crowley's role, and it is fucking horrible. Absolutely unbearable. My ex-partner was like Aziraphale, pulling and pushing and pulling and pushing but on a daily basis, every few hours. No amount of talking or begging could get them to not behave in a way that would hurt me, and I was so emotionally tied to them and terrified of being alone that just like Crowley, I relented every. single. time. A year and a half and they never, not ONCE, apologized for anything. Ever. Not for hurting me, not for being an asshole, nothing.

The only way I got out was with a lot of therapy, support, and so much emotional work I was having several panic attacks a day because I was so fucking exhausted. Crowley and Aziraphale separating was the best thing that ever happened to their relationship.

Now, Aziraphale is facing negative consequences for his behaviour and is forced to examine himself and deal with all those fears causing him to behave the way he does. Crowley on the other hand is now forced to learn how to exist without Aziraphale to orbit around—he needs to develop an identity that exists outside of Aziraphale, so he can have boundaries and stick to them.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #good omens meta #the final fifteen #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #alex's unhinged meta corner

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foreverdolly · 1 year

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𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐩𝐭 𝟑| 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: you absolutely can't stand your boss. after one bad run in with him, you decide that he's office enemy number one. so when your mother breaks the news that your ex boyfriend is bringing his new fiancé to your sister's wedding as his plus one, you lie and tell her you'll be bringing your very own boyfriend along with you to greece. the problem? you don't actually have a boyfriend. so when austin butler, your arch nemesis of a boss, offers to be your fake boyfriend, you have to take him up on it. greece is a beautiful place to fall in love, no?

pairings: boss!austin butler x reader

word count: 6k

warnings/notes: !SMUT IN NEXT CHAPTER! this chapter does mention nonconsensual drug usage, so be warned! austin is a bad ass in this chapter. . . and even hotter than usual, i swear. there's just something so sexy about a protective man, ya'll.

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“No, no- I can tell.” Emily’s lips brushed against your ear as she leaned forward, the music pounding from the countless overhead speakers. You could feel the techno beat in your chest, and it was hard to differentiate between the music and your own racing pulse. The dance floor was absolutely packed with bodies, all pressed together, swaying along to the beat. You were having a hard time remembering which club this was or when you had gotten there. Your sister had wanted to go bar hopping, so her maid of honor had reserved a table at a couple of the more popular joints in the city.

You looked down at the drink in your hand, shaking it sadly once you realized all that remained of it was ice. How many drinks have you had? What did you and the rest of the wedding party eat for dinner? It was like you had finally pulled your head out of the drunken haze and grounded yourself.

“Um. . . What exactly-”

“I see the way he looks at you and the way you look at him. I know you’re over Alex.” Your sister was slurring her words, but she seemed competent enough.

Your older sister was a tad bit taller than you, but always has had the tolerance of a sixty year old Irishman- who just so happened to also be a sailor. She could drink anyone under the table. Emily was the type of person that wanted to take shots before choosing to nurse a drink. There was no such thing as “working your way up to it” whilst in her presence. Slowly you turned back around to look at the dance floor, your eyes nearly bugging out of your head as you watched Stephanie, Emily’s childhood best friend, climb up onto the bar. Emily cheered loudly from her spot at the table, and you watched with a slack jaw as she began dancing drunkenly. You had half the mind to get your phone out of your purse, but you didn’t want to embarrass her later. She was a pediatric nurse, and you doubted she’d look back on this night too fondly tomorrow morning.

“Wait. . . why are we talking about Alex?” You were confused as to how you both got on the topic. To be completely honest, even the thought of the man panicked you. No matter how many years passed, you would never forget how Alex had traumatized you. It wasn’t that you wanted to get back with him, rather it was the countless complexes he had triggered. He had broken you into a million little pieces and left you like that for the next person to try and put you back together.

Austin.

What had you been blabbering about? Had you let something slip? Surely you hadn’t “spilled the beans” about the fact that you and Austin were just colleagues. You weren’t that drunk. You slapped your palms down onto the table, watching your sister intently as she pumped her fists into the air, showing Stephanie’s drunken display support. You needed to get her attention. You needed to know whether or not you’d somehow fucked up massively tonight.

“E-Em!” You called out to her anxiously. She faced you, glossy lips parted.

“Somebody just sobered up,” She shot you a knowing smile before taking a gulp of her brightly colored beverage. “I was just checking up on you. I know that seeing Alex after so long was probably really upsetting, but you told me that you were completely over him. And hey! I definitely don’t blame you. I mean. . . just look at him and Austin. There’s no comparison.”

She was right. Alex looked like someone had tried to draw Ryan Reynolds from memory.

Blindfolded.

And drunk.

Austin was a work of art. You tried to beat off the butterflies, but they continued fluttering away in your chest as you came to the realization that later tonight the two of you would see each other again.

Sleep next to each other again.

Ah, now the butterflies had turned into slight nausea. You scooped an ice cube out of your drink and popped it into your mouth, thankful for anything that might help with your current case of dry mouth.

“It’s not just his looks though, Emily.” You reminded her.

She seemed to be on a tangent though, her eyebrows furrowed as she recalled how much she disliked her soon to be brother-in-law. “I mean. . . He must have felt like absolute shit when he walked in and saw Austin all over you. He probably cried himself to sleep that night.”

You weren’t self righteous enough to be opposed to shit talking. At least, not about people who deserved it. You let out a loud laugh, nearly choking on the ice cube as you pressed your face into your sister’s neck. She laughed right along with you, giving a small shrug that you felt.

“I mean- come on! His fiance is nice, but she’s nowhere near as hot as you either. It’s sad! I almost feel bad for the guy. You and Austin look like supermodels standing next to each other,” She saw the incredulous look you gave her and gave your back a supportive pat. “I’m being serious.”

It was sad that you really couldn’t be upfront with Emily about your newfound feelings. You could really use some sisterly advice right about now. She thought that the two of you had been together for over six months, when in reality you two had spent an entire year tossing insults at one another.

You understood where she was coming from. Austin was beautiful, but that wasn’t the best part. Austin was a surprisingly sensitive person who genuinely seemed to care about you and your feelings. He was intune with your emotions, and never tried to pry information out of you. Because let’s face it, you weren’t the type of person that was upfront with their feelings. You had been hurt so many times in the past that you found it hard to express yourself in fear of rejection. Austin had patience, and he didn’t look at you like you were some kind of a project.

You weren’t someone that he could fix. You were just you.

And he. . . he was just Austin. Nerdy, infuriatingly perfect, socially awkward, and surprisingly protective Austin Butler.

You stood up abruptly, making your sister blink up at you in surprise. “Are you gonna throw up? Need me to come with you?”

You shook your head, reaching down for your purse so that you could grab your phone. “I just want to go outside and check on Sophia.” You’d texted back and forth a little once you had first landed in Greece, but you hadn’t filled her in on any of the details. You needed someone to talk to. Now. Or else you were positive that you’d explode. Emily’s eyebrows furrowed, but she shooed you off regardless, standing up herself so that she could join her friends.

“I’m gonna grab another drink. We’ll be on the dance floor, alright?” She called out to you once you were on your way towards the front door.

Pushing through the tightly packed crowd of people reminded you of why you didn’t party anymore. There was a period of time in your early twenties where you went out constantly with your friends. That toxic cycle repeated itself directly after your big break up as well. You were at a different bar every weekend, drowning your sorrows in alcohol and meaningless sexual escapades that you regretted immediately after. Adulthood was growing out of all of that. You’d much rather stay the night at Sophia’s house so that the two of you could get wine drunk while watching reruns of Vampire Diaries.

You gulped down the cool night air, pressing your back tightly against the cool brick building, your eyes flickering up and down the street to make sure that no one you knew was in sight before hitting the “call” button. You’d have no one to blame but yourself if anyone overheard you talking about the complexities of your own lies. The familiar voice picked up on the second ring, seemingly out of breath from running from her cubicle and into the stairwell. You could hear the familiar echo as she hurriedly spoke into the phone.

“You haven’t called me since you got there. What’s going on?” Sophia’s voice was rushed and slightly out of breath, though she was keeping her voice as low as she possibly could.

For a second all you could do was stand there, licking your lips as you tried to wrack your brain for some sort of response. How in the holy hell were you supposed to fill her in on everything that happened? You worried your bottom lip between your teeth before finally deciding to spill your guts.

“I think Austin and I are officially dating, but I’m not certain.” There was silence on the other end, and if it wasn’t for the heavy breathing, you would have thought that she might have accidentally hung up on you.

“I-I think I must have missed a couple of chapters here. What in the ever loving fuck has happened in the last twenty four hours, babe?”

After making sure that the coast was clear once again, you told your friend the entire story, being sure not to leave any details out. You started off with the confusing plane ride, the awkward lunch with your parents, and then the goddamn dinner where the two of you kissed. Sophia kept quiet, save for a couple of gasps and squeals of excitement.

“A-And now I’m at this club with my sister, drunk off of my ass, and all I want to do is see him.”

“I knew this was going to happen.” She said smugly, the shock of the statement nearly putting you on your ass. You stumbled forward, the heels of your boot catching on one of the uneven stones on the street. You were quick to throw your arm out, placing your hand against the brick building so that you wouldn’t fall forward onto your face.

“What do you mean?” You gawked, trying to make room for other patrons of the club who stepped outside for some fresh air and a cigarette. One handsome man with stubble and kind brown eyes gestured his own pack of smokes towards you, which you swiftly denied with a kind smile.

“I mean. . .” Sophie trailed off before cursing softly under her breath. “For the love of all things holy- there is no way you couldn’t see this coming. I’ve been telling you for the past six months that he has to like you. It took the poor man telling you point blank “I like you” for you to finally realize? There’s been rumors about you two dating ever since he first started working at the office.”

You had detested Austin for the better part of six months. Never once had you read too far into anyone else’s little comments about the nature of your relationship with the boss. If anything, you thought that it was a way for them to poke fun at you, Sophie included. Now it was as if someone had pulled the wool from your eyes, the truth laid bare in front of you.

Austin Butler, your boss, has had a thing for you this entire time. You were just too stubborn and blinded by your own personal vendetta to see it. You felt like an idiot.

“I mean. . . should I call him? Maybe I should-”

“Tourist?” You blinked up at the man speaking to you, eyebrows knit together in confusion as you realized that it was the same guy that had offered you cigarettes just a minute ago. You were in the middle of having a mental breakdown and didn’t appreciate the interruption.

“Hey, who is that talking to you?” Sophie whispered on the other end of the line.

“Some guy at the club. Hold on one second.” You whispered into the phone before pivoting to fully face him.

He wasn’t bad looking. If anything he was a very conventionally attractive male. Someone you definitely would have loved to talk to normally- however nothing was normal anymore. Austin must have ruined you, because the very handsome man in front of you appeared to be average at best now. You weren’t about to ruin your shot at happiness by chatting him up, so you were quick to cross the arm that wasn’t holding your cell to your ear against your chest, closing off your body language.

I’m not interested.

“I’m not a tourist, no. My parents live here.” You weren’t about to let the man know that you were largely unfamiliar with the area you were in. You had seen enough episodes of Forensic Files and Dateline to know better. You said a silent ‘thank you’ to Chris Hansen before narrowing your eyes at him.

You were many things, but you weren’t gullible. You lived in New York City for heaven’s sake. There were few things in life that you trusted less than a man, and the predatory glint in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you. Taking a few steps back so that you could flatten yourself against the brick wall of the club, you tried your best to put even more distance between your two bodies. After a few seconds he appeared to give up, flashing you a small smile before disappearing back into the building. You let out a small aggravated huff before pressing the phone back to your ear.

“Anyway- I’ll just call you tomorrow, alright? I know you’re at work.” After a mumbled ‘I love you’ and a whispered ‘goodluck’ on her part, you hung up the phone.

Being out in the open like this was slightly terrifying. You were used to living in the city, and rule number one of being a girl was to never allow yourself to be alone like this. Anyone could snatch you, and you weren’t about to become yet another statistic. The constant pulsing of the music vibrated in your ears as you pushed past the hot, sweaty bodies that crowded the dancefloor. A few women tried to grab at your clothes, urging you to dance with them, while men simply smiled or nodded in your direction. An idiot’s mating call.

You continued off in the direction of your sister, seeing her warm, drunken smile beaming at you from across the club. You shot her a small wave before pointing a thumb towards the bar. You needed another drink. Gone were the days of being a habitual drinker. You were freshly twenty-one, finally able to go out with your friends and party until dawn. That was back when you were still with Alex, and though he sullied a lot of memories that should have been joyous during your youth (purely because he was a part of them), you didn’t let him ruin the memories of those nights. Sloppily singing karaoke with your college roommate until dawn and falling asleep with her on the couch while watching reruns of “I Love Lucy”.

New York, despite the unending stretch of niche bars and taverns, didn’t inspire a need to drink in you. You’d gotten too old for partying by the time that you had moved out of your hometown.

You’d mellowed out in your mid twenties, which was a feat that you were proud of. Tonight, however, you were planning on getting absolutely shit faced. You tried to convince yourself that it was to celebrate your sister’s wedding, but you knew deep down that you needed to numb yourself from the confusion that the last two days had brought you. It was also to dull the longing ache in your chest. You missed Austin.

Missed him and his stupid wavy blonde hair and big blue eyes. Missed his small smiles and sarcastic jilts.

Oh, how the tables had turned on you over these last two days. To think- just last week you had nearly clawed your eyes out over the fact that you had to sit beside him during one of the monthly meetings that Jeff held. Back then you had seen the glances that he snuck at you as judgemental, but now you saw them for what they really were.

A man that had a crush on a woman that he worked in very close quarters with.

“Can I just get a tequila sunrise?” It wasn’t your normal drink of choice, but the cocktail menu at that specific club was tiny. You weren’t exactly in the mood to be picky either.

The pretty bartender merely nodded her head, asking for the name that your tab was under before skillfully mixing your drink. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the man that had approached you outside making his own way to the bar. His arm brushed against yours as he squeezed through the small gap in the crowd. You grimaced, moving your arm closer into your side before grabbing your drink. You turned your head in the direction of your sister, but froze as he smiled at you one last time.

“I promise I’m not following you. Just grabbing a beer- you have a good night.” He told you gently, flashing the beer as if to prove it.

You instantly felt guilty for your behavior, realizing that he must have seen the way you recoiled from him. He probably just found you pretty and wanted to try his luck. It wasn’t uncommon to bump into the same people multiple times, especially if you’re spending hours in the same building. Maybe the city had ruined you. Maybe you were just overreacting. You nodded stiffly, flashing him a small smile of your own.

“Thank you. You too.” And then you were off in the direction of your sister.

The next few minutes were a blur. You remembered taking three sips of the drink, just listening to your sister and her maid of honor talk about the honeymoon. The world felt like it was tipping out from underneath you. You tried your damndest to listen to what the two girls were saying, you were too preoccupied with what was happening to your body. Did you just have a horrible case of the spins?

No. . . you’d been pacing yourself all night. That couldn’t be right. Sure, you hadn’t drank to this degree in a couple of months, but you knew your limits. This certainly wasn’t your first rodeo.

“What do you think? Your outfits are always adorable, so I care about your opinion.” Your sister turned to face you, beaming widely.

“I liked the red shoes you sent me a picture of,” You had to force the words out of your mouth. It felt like you were wading through water, your eyes becoming heavy lidded. “Matches better with the dress.”

You placed a steadying hand on the table in front of you, eyes wide when you realized that something wasn’t right.

“. . . Honey? Are you okay? Hey- sis. . . look at me,” Your sister grabbed your cheeks in her hand, marveling at your flushed cheeks and panicked eyes. “What’s wrong?”

It sounded like Emily was miles away despite the fact that she was now pressed right up against you, pushing your hair back and off of your face to get a better look at you. The lights were too bright, the music was too loud, and you couldn’t speak. Your tongue felt thick and numb in your mouth.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times before shaking your head. Your sister knew you well enough to understand that whatever was happening to you. . . it was bad.

Emily reached into your purse, riffling through it to find your phone.

“I’m going to call Austin to come get you, okay? Just hang on, girl. Do you need to puke?” She looked through your texts, clicking on the number saved under the name “Austin Mc-jackass” and putting the phone up to her ear. Thankfully she was too nervous to ask about the nickname.

You groaned softly, your head lolling back onto the plush pleather booth.

“Austin? Hey- it’s Emily. We’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“What all has she had to drink?” He questioned quickly, sliding into the booth so that he could wrap an arm around your slumping shoulders, pressing your body against his.

The way that you were entirely limp in his arms was a huge red flag, and it had his heart leaping to his throat. He’d drunk enough in his college years to know that this wasn’t normal behavior, even if you had pushed past your limits. Emily’s eyes were wide with concern as she tried to recall every drink that she’d seen in your hand over the course of the night. Sure, you couldn’t drink as much as she could, but just ten minutes ago the two of you had been deep in conversation. You were perfectly coherent before this last drink of yours.

“Two mixed drinks and three shots. That’s no-”

“Nowhere near enough to have her acting like this,” Austin finished for her, nodding his head in swift agreement before turning his head to face you. “It’s got to be something else then.”

You could barely keep your eyes open, and your head kept lolling forward. His heart was racing a mile a minute, and before he could stop himself he placed a warm, comforting kiss against the bridge of your nose, and mumbling a quick “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner” against your temple. He needed to stay calm and try not to think the worst.

“Did you see her take anything?” Austin knew that you weren’t the sort of person that would do heavy drugs, not even on a night out in a foreign city. He tried to recall if he’d seen any medications in your travel bag that might be dangerous to mix with alcohol, but came up blank. He’d never seen you take anything at work before either, aside for some antibiotics a few months ago when you had gotten sick. He felt a little bit stalkerish for remembering something as trivial as that, though he supposed it would be useful eventually.

Emily was quick to shake her head, eyebrows furrowing. “She wouldn’t have taken anything. You know her- she’s a control freak. Party drugs aren’t her thing.” The blonde could tell that your sister was trying hard to sober up to better take care of you, and was growing frustrated with herself as her words came out slurred.

Austin attempted to shoot her a small smile, one that felt incredibly fake given his internal panic, when something on the table caught his eye. A half empty drink was on the table in front of you, the ice not melted even in the slightest- it couldn’t be more than twenty minutes old.

“When did she get this drink?” He asked, pointing at it.

Emily turned her own focus to the drink, looking over Austin’s shoulder towards the bar. She pointed towards the female bartender who was currently taking care of a large crowd of patrons.

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

Austin nodded. “And when did she start acting like this?”

Emily’s eyes widened as she finally realized what Austin had been thinking all along. Despite her drunkenness she was still quick to put two and two together. The music continued to pound away at the speakers. Someone popped a bottle of champagne in the booth beside them, and Austin grit his teeth in annoyance as the group of friends cheered. He detested places like this. He slipped the glasses from off of his head, placing it down on the table before reaching for the drink.

He brought it up to his nose, sniffing the liquid to see if anything smelled out of place. It was one of those sugary, flavored cocktails that he found absolutely repugnant. It smelled like pineapples, tequila and. . . something chemically.

Something that sure as hell didn’t belong in a tequila sunrise.

He set the glass down on the table with enough force to have the liquid spilling over his hand, his blue eyes burning with rage.

“She’s been drugged,” He was shaking now, his arm tightening around your body as you tried hard to say something. You were mumbling, forcing your eyes open so that you could try and talk to them. You knew that they needed to know who had done it, and you had a pretty good idea, but the words weren’t coming out.

Everything looked blurry, and you forgot what you were trying to say the second that you opened your mouth. Austin, underneath all of that anger, was terrified for you as you continued to babble. He couldn’t remember a time in his life where he had felt this level of panic. He was shaking as he clung to you, long fingers tangling into the fabric of your shirt.

“Who was it, baby? Tell me who you think did this.” He was patient with you, holding the back of your neck so that you could look up at him.

You couldn’t even hold the weight of your own head. You felt pathetic.

“Blue shirt,” He was having to pick out certain words, almost as though he was listening to a toddler speak. “Brunette.” That was just about everyone in this place. He began searching the area, picking out certain brunette men wearing blue shirts on the packed dance floor that might look a bit sleazier than others.

None of them caught Austin’s eye- not until one of them turned around, looking directly at you. It was obvious that he wasn’t people-watching either, knowing exactly where you were sitting so that he could stare. Meaning- he’d had his eye on you throughout the night and knew where your booth was. Austin, without tearing his eyes off of the man, ushered Emily closer.

“You wrap her arms around her and keep her sitting up. If anyone comes up to talk to you two, even if they work here, turn them away. Alright?”

Only once he felt your sister’s arm weaseling past his around your waist did he let go of you, standing up from the booth and making his way down the steps. He wanted to beat the man to a pulp and leave it at that. Toss him out into some back alley so that his friends could find him later in the light of day, but that didn’t seem like enough. Austin used to be that kind of guy. The kind of guy that resorted to violence the second that someone even looked at him wrong. The death of his mother had mellowed him out though. Changed him. Beating the creep up would feel really good, but it wouldn’t help in the long run.

He was sure that the local police wouldn’t take kindly to men slipping unsuspecting tourists daterape drugs. He could threaten the asshole’s life later. Right now he had to jump into action. You were still incapacitated at the booth, and he doubted that Emily was strong enough to fight off a man. He could still try and drag you outside and to whatever car he had no doubt waiting for him.

Over Austin’s dead body.

He didn’t doubt that this wasn’t the guy’s first time doing something like this. Austin was there to protect you, but most girls didn’t have that. Something needed to be done.

He was quick to push past people in line at the bar, not bothering to mumble apologies before leaning over, ushering over the female bartender. She started to glare at him, thinking he was just some impatient asshole cutting in line, but the hard look on her face fell once she saw his anger. His urgency.

“Someone just slipped rohypnol into my girlfriend's drink at your bar,” The girl’s tanned complexion paled, the glitter on her face catching the overhead neon lights as she looked around the handsome blonde towards the booths.

She must have seen you because she quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him around the bar and towards a small door with a large sign that said “staff only”. The music quieted as the heavy door shut behind them. She dropped his hand so that she could jog towards a group of men who were sitting in a far corner. Austin appreciated how quickly she was acting on this.

The men were sitting in front of a few computer monitors, speaking lowly to one another in a language that Austin didn’t understand.

The girl’s accent was thick as she breathily called their names.

“A girl was drugged at the bar. I need you to call the cops and check the cameras.” Before they could ask where it had happened, she added to the story. “I’m the one that served her.”

Austin thanked the bartender before pointing towards the door. “She’s with her sister, and I don’t want to leave them alone. I’m going to get her home, but I’ll give you my cellphone number if the officers need some sort of statement from us.” And after jotting down his information on a sticky note the man began to hurriedly make his way back into the heart of the club.

The blonde had helped to pay his way through college working in bars back home in California. Most of the time he worked the door and security given his tall stature, and thankfully he’d only seen something like this happen a handful of times during those years. Still, he knew that it was a far more common occurrence than most people would expect. His eyes scanned the dark room skillfully, trying to find the face of the man that he suspected. After just a few seconds he realized that he was no longer inside, having tucked his tail between his legs and ran the second that he noticed Austin was probably getting help. Turning on the heels of his boots Austin jogged his way to the door, pushing past other club goers to peek his head outside.

There, in the distance, was the man in the blue shirt. He wasn’t alone- there was one other guy who was so small that he could probably still be in his teens walking alongside him. He didn’t dare call out to them, not wanting to give them the opportunity to run. Instead Austin clung to the darkened stoops of the local shops, his arms swinging beside him as he ran. Maybe it was the fact that he had been stuck with Alex all day that had him rearing for a fight. The man-child had been taking little jabs at him all night, and Austin was smart enough to know that he was being baited. He was being backed into a corner, and the second that he snapped?

Well he’d look like the asshole territorial boyfriend.

He hadn’t deluded himself into thinking that he was here for any other reason aside from playing the part of a doting new beau, and the last thing he wanted to do was make himself look bad in fear that it would fall back on you somehow. He was here to make you look good, not like you were being held hostage.

“Hey,” Austin grabbed the back of the man’s shirt, watching as the male whipped around to face him. The small male that he was with froze, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “So you think it’s cool to drug a girl’s drink?”

The brunette bristled, sizing Austin up before turning his chin up. Recognition flashed in his eyes, having seen Austin taking care of you at the booth just a few minutes ago before trying to find help.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The male tried, taking a step back to free himself from Austin’s grip.

The tall blonde didn’t relent, instead tightening his hold on the cotton fabric.

“I knew that you had to be fucking stupid to try something like that, but there’s no way you’re this dumb. She pointed you out to me- and we have you on camera slipping the drug into her drink. Are you ready to confess now or did you just want to make yourself look like an even bigger asshole?” The brunette’s olive skin paled.

Sure, Austin hadn’t actually seen the footage yet, but the other male’s reaction told him everything that he needed to know. His assumption had been correct. He tried not to imagine exactly what he would have done with you if you hadn’t been there with an entire group, because Austin wasn’t sure whether or not he would be able to keep his calm. He had to remind himself that you were safe and with him now. He had to settle the icy rage that was threatening to overcome his rational mind.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Austin spoke through clenched teeth, tugging him closer to him. “You’re coming with me and waiting for the cops.”

Now that they were practically nose to nose, the height and size difference was beginning to settle in for the bastard. Despite that, he still tried to wrench himself out of Austin’s grip.

At the mere mention of police, the smaller of the two ran off into the night, disappearing around a building. He wasn’t the one that really mattered though.

The more that he struggled, the looser Austin’s grip became. Austin could feel the shirt beginning to rip, and let go only to slide his arm up and around the man’s throat, using his other hand to hold his wrist in place. The perpetrator bucked and kicked- even clawed at Austin’s arms- which only made him tighten his grip even harder.

“If I have to drag your unconscious body back over towards that club, I fucking will. It’ll be embarrassing for you, bud.” He spoke into the guy's ear, already hearing a crowd beginning to gather around them.

Two bouncers from the club broke through the crowd, calling out to Austin to hand him over to them. That the cops were going to be there soon. He could hear the sirens somewhere in the city, getting closer and closer by the second. Austin only loosened his grip when he felt a hand on his shoulder. With a great amount of self restraint he let go, taking a few steps back from the man.

Austin could easily take advantage of the perpetrators weakened state, what with his hands being braced on his knees as he gasped for breath, but the blonde merely took a few deep breaths and made his way back in the direction of the club. He could have beaten the fucker up. He could have had his fun with the guy until the cops showed up, but the thought of you being scared and on the verge of losing consciousness made him walk back into the club in search of you.

He felt like everything would be okay the second he saw you again. The second that he had you back in his arms everything would be okay. You settled his storms, calmed his nerves and made life feel good again.

That’s just how love works.

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior @18lkpeters @memphis-mania @rjmartin11 @artlover8992

and the big daddy crew: @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny

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solosikoasgf · 10 months

Text

you know my body is yours , roman reigns (nsfw)

pairing: roman reigns x oc (afab / black reader) synopsis: vacations are rare, and so you make the most of the sun, the sand, and undivided time with each other. themes: it's nasty, that's all ik. oral (f receiving), light choking, a little dominance. word count: roughly 2.5k author's notes: i am not a smut writer so y'all need to be nice. i just wanted to write about roman being sweet on vacation before i go back to hating him this week. minors dni! taglist: @rez-luvs-hook — @southerngirl41 — @harmshake — @christinabae — @dreamsinfocus — @thesamoanqueen — @thewarlordsworld — @cyberdejos2 — let me know if you want to be added! song recommendations: no limit by tank ft alex isley, it's yours by destin conrad, yours by dixson ft india shawn

the sun is still high in the sky, despite the time ticking closer to evening hours. the two of them had spent all day there, in the rays of the sun, in the waves of the surf, and laying in the sand. a vacation for roman was rare, and jade didn't find herself entitled to his time - in fact, she had encouraged him to take the time to rest and get family affairs in order, or do whatever it was that would make him feel relaxed.

so she was utterly shocked when he showed up with a suitcase for her to pack up, and a flight for them to catch. so much so that he had to basically pack the bag for her just to usher her out so they could make the flight on time, with gentle assurances that if she needed more clothes, she could use his credit card at any store she desired once they reached their destination.

and so the past three days had been filled with nothing but bliss - his undivided attention.

day one spent lounging around their resort, a large suite with a swim up pool, so they didn't find the need to really go anywhere but just rest, enjoying each other's company. day two had been spent out, walking in town, eating everything. day three was for excursions - zip lining, hiking, boat rides, biking. all of the little sweet things that made memories. and jade couldn't help but ooh and ahh at everything, it had been a number of years since she had a vacation, so focused on her career and taking care of her parents as they got older in age.

but today was for the beach, and the beach only. they arrived early in the day, making their spot under a shady palm that was out of the way - so no matter how many people packed the beach, they were sure nobody would venture out where they were.

she watched now as roman made his way back to her, hair wet from the ocean, a tan settled into his skin, taking it to a tawny bronze that accentuated the freckles that hid in his face, to his chest and back. his smile is wide and hands are full with two plastic bowls full of fruit from the vendor who had just passed, and jade smiles, shielding her eyes and setting her book aside to make room for him on their array of beach towels.

"for me?" she beams, faking shock and astonishment as she takes the bowl from him and he eases down across from her. his shorts ride up on his thighs, and he spreads his legs, opening his arms and gesturing her forward. he sighs in contentment when she's face to face with him, her legs on top of his and behind his torso.

"you havin' a good time, babygirl?" he watches her ditch the fork with a smile, as she picks up a chunk of mango with her fingers and bites into it, the juice running down her hand and into her arm.

"mhmm." jade hums, feeding him the other half, which he accepts happily, letting his lips wrap around her fingers to suck the lingering juice off. her eyebrows shoot up a bit, but she gives him a knowing smile and goes back to picking fruit from the bowl. "best baecation ever. but you really didn't have to - like we could have stayed stateside."

he snorts. "best vacations are always out of the country. don't think i didn't see how stressed you've been recently. you're not as good at hiding it as you think you are." he taps her left temple with two fingers as admonishment, and she apologizes with the offering of a piece of kiwi, that he accepts.

"i didn't wanna bother you. you're always on the road or in meetings - the last thing you need to hear on our calls is about why deidre pissed me off again."

"nothing about you bothers me. i'm your man, it's my job to be here for you, and to take those burdens off you. i ain't say nothing, but don't do it again." he warns, letting his hands settle on her thighs, warmed from the sun. "i'm not playin' either, jade."

she rolls her eyes, but he catches her face with his hand, amused. "i'm not playin." he repeats, voice a little lower. she nods quietly, and he picks a strawberry out of her bowl, pressing it to her lips. and when she bites down and juice runs down the sides of her lips, he quickly moves forward to press his lips on hers, hand grabbing at the back of her neck to pull her closer while their lips move against each other's.

she can taste the saltwater on his lips and tongue when he deepens their kiss, and ocean water drips onto her chest from his hair, cold. this moment is one she wishes she could bottle up and live in forever.

jade sighs in contentment, using the heels of her feet to dig into the towel to scoot herself just a bit closer, hands sliding up his chest and around his neck. she can feel his length start to poke at her thigh, and she pulls back, holding his face in her hands with a smile - but his eyes are dark, and his hands have tight grip of her thighs. "joe," she warns.

"let's head back," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to hers.

"it's still early."

"i want to take some of that stress off you."

they barely make it in and out of the shower in one piece, with roman almost engulfing jade to the point where her mind can barely think. from the second they landed back in their room, his hands and lips made quick work of taking her over the edge - the push and pull of him teasing and coaxing, but never quite giving into her.

he had clearly meant it - there wouldn't be room for stress in her mind, because all she could think of was how much she wanted to feel him stretch her out, take her over the limit.

her back hits the bed, black locs fanning out, cowrie shells attached to the ends tingling together in a quiet song. roman's eyes drink her in, steam still rolling off his body from the shower. from her round eyes and soft features, to round supple breasts that dips into a soft midsection. his hands palm her thighs, kneading with added pressure. they roam up to her stomach, fingering the glittering waist beads stacked on her waist. "i ever tell you how sexy these are?"

she breathes hard, but still smiles, her hand sliding down on top of his. "i put on extra, just for you. i know you like to see 'em when you hit backstrokes. i even took the excess," she pauses, raising her right leg a little, revealing beads on her ankle, "and made little anklets. they'll look so good...on your shoulders."

he groans, leaning forward to take her breast into his mouth, making her gasp, back coming up off the mattress. his hand slide under her thigh, and her breaths come shallow when his tongue circles around her nipples, suckling gently, and then gradually growing rougher, while his other hand twisted her other nipple between skilled fingers. "fuck." she whispers harshly, pushing her hands down on his shoulders.

his lips find her neck next, and she can hear him breathing hard, leaving harsh open mouthed kisses, biting down near her ears enough to make her yelp, and then covering the area with kisses and swipes of his tongue, all the while his hand slips down her thighs, gently coaxing them apart, dancing up the warm and already sticky inner thigh, thumb pressing to her clit to start a slow rotation of circles.

it's deliberate, and it's agonizing. she moves her hips in time to his fingers, desperately trying to up the pace, when she hears him chuckle, low. "hold on a lil longer." he assures, slipping two fingers in deep. the addition makes her groan, inhaling hard.

with every quick and deliberate stroke, his fingers become slicker in her arousal, and her moans scale up in octave, grasping onto his wrist for some semblance of control. but the second he feels her hand, he pulls away, in smooth motion lowering himself between her thighs. he squeezes hard. "keep your eyes on me."

jade shifts up on her elbows, pushing locs out of her face to lock eyes with his - both of them silent in the heavy tension of the moment, while he lowers himself down, steady eyes when he gently attaches himself to her clit, suckling softly with a low groan. she instinctively grabs at the sheets, attempting to keep her eyes from closing and letting her back hit the mattress once again.

the warmth of his mouth and tongue running over her clit and lips are almost unbearable, and it doesn't take long before her breathing is labored and soft breaths become soft moans that gradually get louder - all the while he maintains eye contact. he grips harder on her thigh, sucks with more aggression, and the small amount of composure she had been holding falls.

"oooh-" she breathes, finally collapsing back onto the pillows, hands reaching to tangle themselves in his hair while her back arches. he doesn't stop - running the flat of his tongue up her slit, collecting the wetness that had accumulated from his teasing, coming back up to suck on her clit. he pushes her thighs up towards her chest, rising slightly to his knees to push his face into her sex.

for roman, there are no more thoughts to be had. her body at his disposal, the way she dripped and moaned for him, the way her body responded so easily at his touch, at his voice, was enough. and he wanted to see her crumble to nothing - to pleasure her until she was spent and her voice was hoarse. he moans into it, pushing his tongue in an area right under her clit - her grip on his hair tightens, and she pushes his head further in, grinding her hips against his face with gradual urgency.

"fuck. joe, i'm -" gasps for breath, "i don't think i can hold it-" there's a build in her lower abdomen, and her grinding becomes more frantic, hands holding her own thighs up to her chest to give him more room to flick her clit.

he doesn't bother to answer, pushing her legs further back, using a hand to grasp onto hers for encouragement.

let go. let me have it. let me taste it.

"oh my god, i'm cum-" a moan fills the rest of her sentence, her thighs shaking around his face. a build and a release of pleasure streams through her body, one hand clamped onto his, another gripping onto strands of his hair, coming down from her high with deep breaths and smiles.

he finally relents, sitting up on his knees, mouth and beard wet, webs of her arousal dotting various spots between dark brown and gray streaks of hair. roman watches her catch her breath, gently rubbing circles into her sides, hovering over her to capture her lips with his own. her arms circle his shoulders and pull him closer, her tongue slipping past his lips in a way that makes him a little crazy, hand gripping her neck. his dick is hard and rubbing against the wetness of her pussy, and he needs to feel her, be encompassed by her warmth when her legs pull him in deep.

"you good, baby?" brown eyes search hers in a moment of softness.

"yeah, i'm good." she brushes hair out of his face, twirling a piece around her finger.

"we can stop," he murmurs as her fingers trace over his face, and he leaves faint kisses on her fingers when they pass by his lips and into his beard.

she doesn't respond, pulling him in for a kiss, reaching down to guide his dick into her warmth, both exchanging a breath in a kiss. roman's teeth grit down, and the soft moment is gone - they lock eyes with brief understanding, and she relents.

and he takes over.

roman leans back, guiding her legs over his shoulders, pressing kisses on the insides of her thighs, knees, calves, arches of her foot, running his fingers across the glittering beads that adorn her ankles as he settles them on his shoulders. he leans over her, forearms on either side of her head, and starts to give slow but hard strokes. each one slow on the out, but pushing in quickly with enough force to make her cry out.

he relishes in her moans, burying his face into her neck and using his hands to hold her thighs open, bending her all the way back so he had full control of her pleasure as he picked up his pace, their skin slapping together with the sound of her moans.

"look at you," he murmurs into her ear between strokes. "taking this dick so well. i can feel you dripping all over it."

"no fuckin' shit-"

"yeah? tell me how it feels."

"so fucking good." she chokes out, scratching at his back.

"it's yours. it's all yours baby. and i'm gonna give it all to you." he groans, losing himself in the warmth of her pussy. his strokes get faster, keeping his head level enough to see her face contort in pleasure, crying out his name.

arousal so thick, the room feels hot, and he can feel fluids dripping down her thighs. it's getting harder to stay inside of her with how wet she is, and he locks his feet into the mattress to gain more leverage, gathering her up in his arms tightly to barrel deep inside of her - inhaling the scent of ocean water still lingering in her hair to try and anchor him down from finishing too soon.

"don't hold out, give it to me. let me feel you cum on me. claim this dick as yours." he growls.

her moans get louder, nails digging into her back with red marks left in their aftermath. between the high of her first orgasm, his weight pressing into her body leaving her unable to move, and his dick, pushing and pulling her until her brain could barely form thoughts, she was unraveling fast, biting down hard on her lip as she felt an orgasm barrleling towards her fast.

she slaps his shoulders, pushing against him with a shriek. "it's too much, i can't- i'm about to-"

roman doesn't let her finish, pressing her mouth into hers to absorb her protests, feeling her pussy clench down on him, forcing his own orgasm. they pant, foreheads touching while he strokes them both through their high, running his fingers down her thighs to sooth her while she whimpers, and her pussy squeezes out the last bit of cum from him. he stills, letting a moment or two pass, letting her legs down to lay on top of her, his weight settling down, forehead to her breasts.

"you good?" she whispers.

"mhm." this time it's him that needs the comfort, and he sighs at her fingers tracing designs over his back - most likely over the tattoos that adorned his upper half.

"that felt like you're the one who had stress."

"both things can be true."

"you feel more relaxed?"

he lifts his head with broad smile, and in return she laughs, carding a hand through his drying hair.

"i love you, joe."

"i love you too." sweet smiles, a pause. "let me eat a piece of fruit off your nipple real fast -"

"damn, you can't even wait three minutes?"

"i just wanna see sumn-"

her laughs fill their villa, and his smile spreads up through his face. this is what they both needed. each other.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x reader #wwe fanfiction #*ssgf #roman reigns

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shelbgrey · 1 year

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Alex karev x reader

Alex breaking up with you when he finds out your pregnant but the get back together after baby’s born

( don’t see a lot of Alex on her I really try to find fics)

Heaven(Alex Karev)

Paring: Alex Karev x Reader

Grey MasterList

Request list

Got a picture of your house

And you're standing by the door

It's black and white and faded

And it's looking pretty worn

We were just stupid kids, that's all we were... At least in his eyes. When we first met he was rude and conceeted. That's what everyone else saw, but to me he was the kindest person I ever met.

See the factory that I worked

Silhouetted in the back

The memories are gray, but man, they're really coming back

Like every Seattle Grace love story we met at the hospital during our intern year. We worked hard and fought for surgeries, but behind closed doors he was a man after my heart.

I didn't care for him much at first, he was just as much as a man whore as Mark Sloan. I would dodge his Flurting and honestly kind remarks. But he had his STD nurse and at the time I could careless about love.

But he never gave up. He fell fist but I fell harder.

I don't need to be the king of the world

As long as I'm the hero of this little girl

I don't think he'll ever know this, but he saved me. He saved me from it all and he was my hero. He took me away from the reality that was our jobs. We were each other's heros and it didn't matter we came from broken homes. Being with him was like my own personal heaven. I loved the way he'd always make me laugh no matter how upset I was.

I remember he'd always stay with me during the late hours in the hospital. It didn't matter how many hours he'd worked that day he was there. He'd fight his tired eyes and stick with me if I had to watch and take care of the babies in the nursery.

Heaven isn't too far away

Closer to it everyday

No matter what your friends might say

But every heaven has its demons.

I knew how my friends felt about him. We had the same friends but we all knew how he was. George couldn't understand our relationship at all, he'd except it but could never grasp why I chose him.

Meredith supported us from the start. She knew Alex was rough around the edges but she knew we loved each other.

I never cared what they thought because for the first time in a long time I was happy.

How I love the way you move

And the sparkle in your eyes

There's a color deep inside them

Like blue suburban sky

He would always say how much he loved my eyes. So many late nights of us staring into each others eyes. I often wonder if our kids would have his eyes or mine.

When I come home late at night

And you're in bed asleep

I wrap my arms around you

So I can feel you breathe

The bed didn't feel like my own anymore and I couldn't get myself to sleep on his side of the bed. I remember late nights when he'd craw into bed and wrap his arms around me thinking I was asleep. I lied in the bed that we feel into eternal bliss in. The bed should held a special intament moment, but now it's cold and hard. I'd often toss and turn unable to sleep while the only thing left of him was small piece of him.

I don't need to be a superman

As long as you will always be my biggest fan

Heaven isn't too far away

Closer to it everyday

He didn't have to be anything more than he already was. He was perfect in my eyes. No matter what we did we always support each other. It felt like heaven anytime we were talking about anything that wasn't medical.

No matter what your friends might say

We'll find our way, yeah

I know no one could wrap their head around the fact we were together. George couldn't and neither could Derek. George had it in his head he'd hurt me and in the beginning Derek thought he wasn't good enough. But Merdith loved the fact we we're together and supported since day one. But I didn't care what are friends had to say he treated me like a queen and I loved him.

Memories come rushing back and makes it pretty hard

I've got nowhere left to go

And no one really cares

I don't know what to do

But I'm never giving up on you

I thought I was dreaming when I woke up and saw him holding our child. It felt too go to be true as he rocked our son in the corner of my hospital room.

This would go on for days as I recovered and I could understand was this, "why now?" and he made it quite clear he wasn't gonna give up.

I was Comforting knowing he wasn't gonna give up on his son. He was not his father and that's a promise. But I couldn't trust him now after all he did was run when things got serious.

Heaven isn't too far away

Closer to it every day

No matter what your friends say

I know it's gonna find a way

During those nine months heaven was gonna and it was nothing but darkness, purgatory if you would. But Alex never gave up. He was an amazing father and held his son if he got scared and made him laugh if he was sad. Our son would grow up in a home I always dreamed of. A home full of light and happiness. Our son grew up in a home he could look forward to come home to everyday after school. And he could see his parents not only loved him but loved each other.

#alex karev x reader #alex karev imagines #alex karev #Greys anatomy #Greys anatomy imagines #greys anatomy imagines #greys anatomy x reader #greys anatomy headcanons #Song imagines #Song one shots.

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pro-logue-epi-logue · 2 months

Text

RANDOM DEVIL'S NIGHT THOUGHTS

~NUMBER 45~

Things that were not in NIGHTFALL but should have been

(There might be some ranting soo bear with it, you may or may not agree with them) ->

1. Emory and winter not even sharing one single sentence.

Are you telling me two bestest of buddies Damon and Will are married but their significant others did not even share 1 single sentence. NOTHING. ZERO. NADA. Yaaa right.

I am suppose to believe it?

But yeah sure Rika was always there. ALWAYS?? Why just why? Just once let banks and winter talk.

2. Two of the most awesome characters of the entire devil's night EMORY SOFIA SCOTT and NIVOKA SARAH BANKS are not best friends???

Let us all not live in a delusional and finally accept the fact that EMORY and BANKS are best buddies.

Like imagine the sarcasm, sass and obviously how they both are now going to humble the Horsemen and everyone else.

They LITERALLY have sooooo many topics to talk about.

They both definitely meet 2 or 3 times a week just these two and chat and be as awesome and cool as they are.

But yes we didn't got this either. I was soo excited when the two best girls em and banks were supposed to meet but did we got it no. Apparently alex was important. * insert eye roll* ( everyone have the same thoughts here lets not lie)

3. Will not explaining his tattoos

William aaron payne grayson III has been obsessed OBSESSED with Emory Scott, we all know that, its no secret.

It was mentioned in corrupt that he got tattoos while he was in jail, WHEN he didn't knew about what em and martin did. WHEN he was hopelessly in love with her.

So i don't believe that 90% of his tattoos are not related to her one way or other. NOPE JUST NOPE.

So we all deserved a chapter when he told her the meaning of his tattoos and what they signifies after they were married.

4. Emory not getting her own wedding

Emory has the most painful life, she was not at all happy when she was in high school. And after she went to Berkeley when her gazebo burned she didn't let herself be happy.

So just once ONCE in her life can this girl get something for her just for her only.

Don't get me wrong the wedding was cute( it wasn't).

But EMORY deserved a day just for her and will that she shouldn't share with anyone else.

After everything she went through all the pain and hardship, and all the things will and emmy together as a couple went through they deserved a day for just them.

5. Emory Scott smiling in the present chapters

In the entire present timeline all we got was will and emmy fighting, I just wanted 1 chapter just her smiling and finally being happy after all the things. It doesn't matter how, she can be alone with micah or rory or even will. Just her happy and smiling.

And i really think this and tattoo excerpt should have been there instead of AA.

6. More time between MICAH , RORY and EM

In the short time em was in blackchurch only micah was nice to her and rory was well him. But the scenes when Micah and Em dances together and when these two cuties stood up for her when the entire Horsemen clan was treating Emory so bad so so bad these 3 have my heart. They are the brothers she deserves.

I even like how she described them during the wedding.

So yes they should have had 1 or 2 more scenes together for example when they all went shopping after the engagement.

7. Emory's Backstory

There was a 9 years gap, 9 YEARS. So much can happen in that time. But we don't know anything, literally anything about her during that time. I genuinely wanted to know how she coped with the break up with the love of her life WILL, how did she survive in that 1 year when he was not there, how was her college life, how was her graduation, her ex-boyfriend ( she must have dated someone right),how is her job. Anything would have worked but no did we got anything, no we didn't. But what did we got, repeated reminder of will and alex( i get it they were together but why throw it in her face when she was already soo insecure). This novel should have focused on those years when will and emmy were apart and how her life was in California instead on ALEX( I said what i said she got way too much page space in a book that wasn't even hers ).

8. Will's reaction to when em told him about the coffee can and Damon's mom

I really wanted to know how will would react when he find out that emmy saved all these things and how they meant the world to her. And specifically how ther were just under the gazebo he burnt.😅. Just there away from him. Its a short distance.

I also wanted to knew what exactly happened that devil's night and did he or did he not put damon down. Did he freak out?

9. Way less of Alex and Aydin

It was a book of WILL GRAYSON and EMORY SCOTT then why was i reading about another couple who didn't even matter.

I am still bitter about how badly alex treated emory and how rude she was to her without knowing anything. And how both AA had more page space in present timeline than will and em themselves.

Because we all know how AMAZING, AWESOME and SUPERB past will and emory were they were everything, they were chef's kiss. So imagine how awesome they would have been if AA weren't there because now they both confessed their feelings and their is no martin( we were robbed big time).

10. Will's and emory's accomplishments

It wasn't mentioned but i know, i just know that will grayson was homecoming king and emory scott was the valedictorian and she even passed college with achievements.

This girl spent every minute of her wake hours for either school,gazebo or her grandma so yeah.

11. An apology

Emory deserved an apology from kai, Michael, ALEX and will also because they all every single one of them treated her as if she wasn't even a human. And i hated what kai said to her. Alex was rude and wanted to hit her( an abuse victim seriously), Alex was mean and kind of bitchy for no reason at all. Will did her wrong as well but i dont want to elaborate on this.

Soo yeah SHE DESERVED AN APOLOGY.

12. Emory and Will talking

Inwas waiting for will and Emory to talk to each other specially about Emory's abuse and Will's trauma. These two suffered the most and only had each other and they only showed their true selves to them only and yet They didn't talk! But yes tell us Rika's wedding dress color and how is it relevant.

13. Emory's parents

Why does the only thing we know about Emmy's parents is how they died? We should know a little more about them, where is their grave, how were they with emmy, their sweet moments together, them celebrating Emmy's birthday, playing with her in the park.

14. Will's emotion on his arrest day

We got to see everyone's pov when they git arrest but not will. He is the most ignored PD male at this point.

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vcrooster · 2 years

Text

After Hours

AFTER HOURS PART 1

Smut

Paring: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw & Simpson!Reader

Word count: 3.4K

Summary: You find your way back to Bradley after so many years.

Warnings: smut, smut, smut.

Prequel: Midnight Rain

***

Bradley was spending his first available Saturday on his third old fashioned of the night.

The last sip of alcohol tasted even more bitter than the one before. Maybe it could be the fact he hardly knew anybody, he recognized some faces and could pace together a few names but nobody he actually wanted to have a conversation with. Or maybe it was just that he was drinking alone.

He seals his lips together in a line when the glass is half way empty once again. In the corner of his eye he can see Alex, the bartender, approaching him as she starts her shift.

“Drinking alone again?” She smiles at him in the warmest way. He could tell her accent peeking through her English, he found that very adorable.

“Not if you let me buy you a drink” He shows her a cocky little smirk playing around with her.

“No drinking in work hours for me Gallo” She said. Alex was taken, happily married actually. There was a slight tan line on the ring finger of her left hand. Most guys looked past it, didn’t even realize when they left a big tip to try and impress a pretty girl like her.

He takes another sip of his drink making sure he leaves the cherry in it for last.

“Very responsible”. He’s not interested like that, sure, it was fun to flirt with her from time to time, but he always made sure he was respectful, not crossing the line.

“Gracias”. She fixes another drink for him. She carefully slides the glass in front of him making Rooster a little too confused. Especially on the drink choice.

It’s a Manhattan, he fucking hates Manhattans.

“Oh no I’m good. I’m closing my tab after this one” He acts like he already had too much to drink, not wanting to be too impolite about it, since she’ll sometimes surprise him with random drinks, which he usually does enjoy.

“That’s too bad it’s already paid for” She doesn’t explain any further, making herself busy drying some shot glasses. She wouldn't want to get in trouble with her bosses knowing how they feel about engaging too much with customers.

“By who?” He didn’t want to seem too obvious looking around the bar.

“From that lady sitting over there” It takes him a second to find the person she nods to until he finds the eyes that are looking directly at him.

“Holy shit.”

You shoot him a smile, raising your glass.

You’re drinking an old fashioned just like he is. Unlike him, you always start eating the cherry first, he’s watching you with a little of disbelief in his hazel eyes. The contact is lost when turning all your attention to one of your friends sitting next to you.

“Aren’t you so lucky” Alex points out, looking at you seamlessly blend with your group of friends.

“Yeah. Very lucky.”

He knows what’s behind the pretty smile and that black tight silk dress. The worst trouble he could’ve ever found.

First time he ever saw you was years ago in a bar just like this one. He remembers it was your twenty-first birthday and how bad you were struggling to get the bartender's attention, hard to believe with that pink little set you had on.

He thought he might as well help the pretty girl out and just maybe get lucky that night.

He did. And two nights after that one. He’s never imagined fucking someone in the back of his dad’s bronco or someone that was still in college.

He didn’t really know much about you, but he sure wasn’t expecting to know your father as well as he did. Admiral Beau Simpson.

He knew he should’ve stopped it, should’ve just left it as a one night stand.

But that doesn’t matter now, Bradley is 35 and he’s pretty sure you’re in your late twenties. What could Daddy possibly say about it now?

“Very pretty girl” Alex’s voice shakes him out of his thoughts. “Go talk to her.”

“And interrupt their girls' night out?” He hopes joking about it gets her to drop the situation before it gets too late and start to pull some strings herself. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“One that needs to get laid” She raises an eyebrow at him hoping he didn’t take too harshly “You can’t keep flirting with a married woman forever.” Alex wiggles her ring finger at him before leaving him with a smirk on her face, using the excuse to go take another customer's order.

“You’re playing hard to get, huh?” He was stunned for a moment, it was as if everything around him had stopped. You look a little more mature, more confident. “It doesn’t suit you.”

It doesn’t. Rooster knows that a pretty smile and some long legs would convince him to do just about anything.

You look different, in a way he can’t quite think through.

He stares at you trying to figure out all of the many things that could’ve changed about you. He picks up the sweetness in your perfume, and the small scar on your left cheek that wasn’t there before.

“Is that a dealbreaker?” He squints ironically, playing along with you. He pulls out the barstool welcoming you to take a seat next to him “Because if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to seduce me.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Bradshaw. I was just being friendly.”

He doesn’t know if you're leaning forward to seem more interested in him or so he could have a better view of your cleavage, either way he isn’t complaining.

“What brings you back?” He asked. You take the liberty to take one of the last sips of his drink, shaking the ice to break out the taste of it.

He can help to notice how your dress rides up slowly along the length of your thigh, and how your lipstick has smeared along the rim of the glass. He has to look away when you catch him staring at your lips for too long.

“My sister’s wedding.” You answer. Your youngest sister Louise, your dad's pride and joy. You on the other hand just filled up the gap of the middle child, or at least that’s how it felt.

Admiral Simpson wasn’t particularly fond of how your name was being passed from pilot to pilot when they found out about your attachment to Rooster.

He saw first hand how Penny Benjamin's name was dragged down by the whole navy. Hell, Beau himself even took part in it, he never would’ve thought that years later his own daughter would be in the same position.

“And Admiral Simpson is going to allow that?” Bradley mentions with irony. He did his best for you. He had practically begged your father but was shut down every time.

His girls were untouchable in his eyes.

“Ironic isn’t it?” You answer. All he could think is that you still had the prettiest smile he’s ever seen. “What Louise wants, Louise gets.” You sigh overdramatically, resting your chin in the palm of your hand.

There is silence after. He dares to move a little closer, almost having his hand touch your forearm.

“You look great” He pushed his luck. He didn’t care if Admiral Simpson ripped the wings out of his plane, but then again it might be the alcohol speaking.

“You're not so bad yourself” Maybe you were slipping too easily, maybe there hasn’t been a man that paid the same attention to you as he did, or maybe it was your twenty-one year old self that still felt that she owed him an apology.

After all he did risk his career for you.

“You wanna take me home, Rooster?” You took the cherry from his drink. He looked at your lips without having a second thought on his answer.

All he could do was nod. There he was once again, wrapped around your finger, like he always has been.

He made sure to leave a decent tip before leaving. He caught Alex winking at him as he trailed behind you crossing the door.

“I thought I’d recognized this old thing” You said. The blue bronco did catch your eye, a dejavú was all you thought it was.

How could you not, he did fuck you in it a couple of times after all.

His hand gripped your thigh when he got to the first traffic light. You were quiet, enjoying the music coming from the radio. He still listens to the same station that his dad did.

You recognized the song right when he started humming the chorus “And the world is mine on Blue Bayou…” You sang softly.

He shoots a smile at you. It’s one of his mother’s favorite songs. She used to sing it all the time when she was cooking dinner. On the other end his dad wasn’t much of a fan of it but always danced to it with her when it was playing.

You lean closer across the center console just so you could reach his ear “How happy I’d be” You can’t resist and pull his ear lobe with your teeth slowly sending shivers down his spine.

Red light. All he has to do is move his head to the side, to finally kiss you but he has to hold himself back.

He hardly noticed the way he was already leaning in for it, “Easy Rooster.” With one hand you push him back completely into his seat, fixing his eyes on the light again.

He brushes the situation off with a chuckle, sitting straighter trying to hide his half boner in his jeans. He hadn’t even tasted you yet for him to start getting this hard.

It wasn’t long before you reached his apartment, the road all too familiar that you almost smiled at the longing feeling.

You capture his lips in front of his door not wanting to wait another second for what you've been missing for so long.

He tasted just as good as you remembered. You had to stop him for a second before getting carried away in the middle of the hallway.

He fights with his keys, feeling your lips along the skin of his neck distracting him from getting the correct one inside the lock.

You pushed him against the wooden door once inside. His hands stayed firm on your waist walking slowly to the first surface he could pin you on.

You got rid of his shirt when you bump into the column of the counter. His skin is still as golden and smooth as you remembered. You lose no time exploring his chest, tracing the lines that disappear into the waistband of his jeans.

He walked you back a few steps lifting you on the counter top with little to no effort, his hands moved fast bunching your dress up on your waist. His lips moved over yours with so much hunger before lowering himself.

He took his time at first, leaving a trail of kisses on your inner thigh, then in every other spot but where you needed him. “Get on with it already.”

He licked his lips. Bold, demanding even.

“That's no way to ask.” Rooster teased you. He straightens up, placing his hands on either side of your body. There is a playful smirk on his face as you look over his features knowing damn well what he wants to hear. “Don’t you think?”

His lips are brushing over yours with every word he says. He’s running his hand along your underwear teasingly playing with the elastic. Waiting for you to say please.

“That was me being nice” You drape your arms on his shoulders pulling him closer to your body.

“I bet it was” He takes advantage of the way your head is slightly tilted to the side to leave open mouth kisses on your neck going to whatever is exposed from your cleavage.

You moan eagerly, getting impatient at how slow he is taking things. If it were up to you would already be riding him by now. “I need you”.

“You do?” You give him a nod making his fingers finally start rubbing circles on your clit giving you just enough to keep you on the line. You squint your eyes at him noticing how his motion goes slower as he gains a desperate whimper from your part.

“Please Bradley” You start grinding on his fingers, desperately looking for more contact from him. “Stop that.”

“What are you talking about?” He furrowed his eyebrows together acting as if he didn't know what he was doing. “This is just me being nice.”

There is a winning smile gracing his lips “Asshole.”

You kiss him with anger, melting completely in him, You pull on his lower lip in between your teeth, leaving him completely lost for a second. Not really catching at first the pressure you were applying on his shoulders.

His eyes never left yours as your hands pushed all the way down to his knees.

The feeling of his warm breath hits you right away making you shiver. His tongue presses into you in such a way that you can’t help but to moan at the pleasure he is bringing you.

You didn’t even realize that your fingers are grabbing a fistful of his hair already trying to pull him closer to get more out of him.

He’s still as good as you remembered. Always so attentive, always making sure to have your toes curling and screaming his name every time he ate you out.

His lips are attached to your clit giving it the attention it’s been missing since he last fucked you years back.

You could swear there was no one as near as good as him. Sure, you’ve had some good sex since him but nothing that came close to Rooster.

His fingers slide on the skin of your thigh only to get lost inside you seconds later. They curl perfectly inside you that it makes you arch your back instantly. “Fuck Bradley.”

He pumps his finger in and out slowly pressing that perfect spot every time, making you tug him closer to your core.

Your head begins to spin and breathes being to shorten as you feel yourself begin to tighten around his fingers and him moaning on your clit adding more sensation helping you get your edge even sooner.

The pleasure hits you, the muscles of your thighs to tense up under his hands. Your eyes stay fixed on Bradley all while you couldn’t help but to remember all the times he’s had you dazed-over him.

It takes you a second to catch your breath again, his fingers are still squeezing your thighs tightly as his lips are on top of yours kissing you heatedly.

“I want this off” He shakes the fabric of your dress grabbing your attention. To his surprise you listen right away, still stuck in the pleasure of the moment.

The fabric lands somewhere on the kitchen floor and you lose no time pulling him back to you. His thumbs start caressing your nipples as soon as they are exposed to him.

“Rooster…” You sigh into his lips. He looks at you in such detail that you could care less in how caught up in the moment he is.

Bradley never thought the nostalgia was going to hit him at a moment like this. He takes in the sensation of your skin under his finger tips. He blinks absently as he slowly makes out your features. “I missed you.” He whispers.

You want to act that just didn’t make your heart flutter the way it did. To say you missed him was an understatement but you never would’ve thought that hearing it from him would’ve been enough to have your heart beating the way it is. “I sure hope you did.”

He kisses you hard once again, bringing you as close as possible to the edge of the counter. instinctively you wrap your legs around his waist as your hands immediately shoot for the zipper of his jeans.

You stroke him a couple of times, obtaining a low groan from him. “Please tell me you're on the pill.” You nod. His hands place over yours guiding his cock to your entrance.

His moan echoes in the kitchen once he slides completely inside you. He’s so handsome. Years have past and he’s still as striking as he was back then.

The pace is slow. He takes his time enjoying every second of it, thrusting in and out letting you adjust to his size. “You missed this baby?” You nod for him to keep going, unable to say a single word.

He lets his lips get lost in your collar bones as his rhythm picks up harder and faster the more desperate your moans get.

You let go of him supporting your weight with your elbows giving him the best view of your exposed torso. “Fuck, nicest tits I’ve ver seen.”

You close your eyes shut when his tongue starts running circles on your nipple. Your skin feels so soft to him that he could explore it for hours without an end.

Leaning forward, pressing his chest against yours, his lips latching onto your neck. His tongue brushes over the red mark he leaves on your skin “You feel so fucking good” His voice airy. Your mind spins only being able to focus on the pretty moans coming from his mouth.

His cock brushes your sweet spot every time he pounded into you. Nails digging in the skin of his shoulder surely leaving a mark on him.

“Mmm, Bradley–” your words are cut short, feeling the familiar sensation exploding sending warmth all over your body making you feel completely disoriented.

He followed shortly after furrowing his eyebrows together. His breath hitching as he moved in to kiss you.

“Just one more baby” his fingers draw slow circles on your clit preparing you for the next round he’s been thinking about since he sat you on top of that counter.

He turns your body, holding the tile against your chest. He takes a second to squeeze your ass once it’s facing him.

He guides himself back in, he isn’t as careful as the first time but his cock hits you perfectly making you cry his name.

He’s holding onto your waist strong, fingers digging into your skin are tightening more and more leaving bruises on your skin. The other wraps in the base of your neck, feeling the vibration of every moan you let out.

You couldn’t think straight, the only thing that's making sense is how good Bradley is making you feel right now.

You’re overwhelmed. The pleasure once again starts pooling in your lower stomach.

“Fuck” He whispers as he thrusts into you. It’s fuzzy, but his lips trailing down your spine help keep some sense into you.

Hips snapping shut against your core as he’s gripping your waist as leverage.“Brad- shit, too much” You can’t form a proper sentence. You feel out of control.

His hand traveled to your shoulder just so he could pull you up, having your back against his chest. Your legs shake and if Bradley hadn’t been holding you as tight as he was you would be on the floor by now.

His skin feels warm on your own feeling how it rises and falls.

“Hold on to me baby” You inhale sharply looking for his arm but you're better off gripping the edge of the counter.

His hands find you breast squeezing them as he nips the skin of your neck. “You’re doing so good”. You’re a mess of moans and whimpers but one thing is for sure, it was worth the while. “Are you going to cum for me again? Huh?” You nod. His mustache brushes against your cheek.

As soon as his hand finds your clit it only takes a few seconds for you to be on the edge again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Bradley” you breathe out cumming for the third time in a row. You fall over the tile of the counter trying to compose yourself.

He’s close behind you. His hand trailed the line of your spine before leaning his chest on your back. His breath hit your ear making you laugh at the sensation.

“Don’t ever leave again.” He said, placing a tender kiss right behind your ear.

God help you because there is no other place you would rather be right now.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #rooster angst #rooster one shot #rooster smut #rooster top gun #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun smut #smut #miles teller

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fazedlight · 6 months

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Borrowed Time (S1 canon-compliant angsty character study)

Fort Rozz was heavy.

Heavier than Kara anticipated, as she struggled to lift it above her head, as she shot into the sky with shaking arms and panting breaths. Fort Rozz was heavy, and it was the last thing she would ever lift.

She couldn’t cry. Not now. There wasn’t time, with Myriad’s vibrations getting closer and closer to destroying humanity. If she started crying, if she broke her concentration, she wouldn’t be able to complete her mission to throw Fort Rozz into space. Everyone was counting on her - Alex and Eliza and Winn and James and Cat Grant and all the others that she once cared about and all the people she had never met.

Her muscles ached, and yet she was reaching space so quickly. The air became thinner and thinner until Kara was gasping for air that would never reach her burning lungs. She watched as the edges of her sight narrowed, as her vision began to tunnel from the lack of oxygen. And all she could think about was how she was the last - how Aunt Astra and Uncle Non were dead, how the remaining kryptonians were in stasis on Fort Rozz, how she would share with them the same grave in the expanse of space.

It had always been borrowed time - she was a mistake, an aberration, a fluke to have survived the destruction of her planet. Last daughter of Krypton, they had called her. She supposed Kal would still be the last son, of a culture he never knew. He was a beginning, not an end. Not the last vestige of a dead world. Not like her. Rao, make my journey bright.

There had never been a certainty about afterlife. Her people whispered the words we will remember you in every dawn, and await the night we join you in the sky as though it meant something, and yet she couldn’t be certain if it was literal or not, or if existence in the afterlife would involve any meaningful level of consciousness.

But it didn’t matter - far more important was may Rao protect us, so that we might protect others.

She never set out to be a vigilante. That was Kal’s purpose - until it wasn’t. Until happenstance clawed out at her, and she felt with growing certainty that this was the way to honor the lost. And so it only became the greatest irony of her life that she would have to thrust her remaining kin to their deaths, to save the found family who had given her refuge.

She wondered what death would be like, and baffled at the fact that she would be experiencing it soon, as she finally breached the atmosphere and noted the gentle curvature of the Earth into darkness. She had learned so much about the planet’s customs, learning to camouflage in one of its many cultures. Her traumatized 13-year-old self never imagined that vigilante or martyr could be in her future.

She had dreams. Some that died on Krypton. Some that were born on Earth. She found herself enamored with the thought of disregarding algorithmic mandates, to find a companion by turning oneself over to the whims of fate. She wasn’t the type to imagine a wedding - kryptonian weddings were beautiful, but they weren’t about the consecration of love, and she never grew attached to Earthian wedding customs. But love? She found herself hoping, assuming that there was someone out there for her, waiting on Earth. Now she hoped there wasn't.

She let go of Fort Rozz, her strength finally faltering, as she drifted above the planet that had served as her home. The stars blanketed her, a sense of calm washing over her as she began to slip away. They are safe, she thought, as her eyes slowly drifted shut. Safe.

#this hurt so much to write so I hope it hurts to read I guess??#remember this is canon compliant so she's gonna be fine!!!#I promise my next ficlet will be not-depressing!!!#character study #supergirl #supergirl ficlet #mel writes ficlets #fazedlight #fazedlightgif #kara zor-el #fort rozz

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wits-writing · 10 months

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“A Wonderful Experience”: Why Transformers: EarthSpark and Nightshade Matter

I’ve been a Transformers fan to one degree or another for as long as I can remember. Whether it’s early memories of watching Beast Wars, renting the G1 animated film on VHS from Blockbuster, or reading the numerous excellent comics that have come over the years, I’ve always found something to love about this franchise. So, I was probably going to find time to check out the 2022 CGI animated series Transformers: EarthSpark eventually no matter what. But one little bird changed that from an “I’ll get around to it eventually” to “I need to make watching this show a priority.”

A little bird by the name of Nightshade (voiced by Z Infante)!

I’d already heard from people I trust about EarthSpark’s quality as a series, but finding out about the franchise’s first prominent, explicitly nonbinary Transformer got me eager to dive in. I’ve discussed characters I relate to and read nonbinary themes into in the past, but getting a chance to see a show in a franchise I love feature that kind of representation with intent was exciting. Given the fact I’ve written 3000 words analyzing the character of Nightshade now, it’s easy to say I wasn’t disappointed!

The topic of gender and how it relates to the Transformers as characters has been one of many long, exhausting fandom debates over the franchise’s nearly four decade history. I’m not here to relitigate any of that, so take it as read from here on out that the Transformers as characters do have and express gendered identities throughout the history of all its incarnations.

To give a quick primer on EarthSpark as a whole (and why it’s great) before digging into Nightshade’s character in specific:

The series is set fifteen years after the end of the Autobot/Decepticon War. The bots that managed to survive the fighting and remain on Earth are presumed to be the last of their species. All of them are stuck in a holding pattern where the only options currently viable are a life in hiding or working alongside the government-funded alien threat detection/response agency GHOST. Optimus Prime and Megatron head up the latter efforts, in the hope of finding some peaceful balance between humans and Transformers going into the future (though neither of them are fully at ease with the situation, as GHOST clearly has ulterior motives of their own.)

The grim outlook for the Cybertronians takes a turn for the better with the birth of two new Transformers. The Earth-sparks of the show’s title (called “Terrans” throughout the series), Twitch and Thrash, who are bonded to the human children Robby and Mo Malto. Helped by Optimus, Megatron, and the Malto kids’ parents, GHOST agent Dot and her husband Alex, the decision is made to keep the Terrans a secret until the extent of what their existence could mean for the Transformers future as a species is fully understood. The Terrans become an official part of the Malto Family (lovingly referred to as “Malto-bots” by the other characters.) At the halfway point of the first season, in the episode “Age of Evolution”, this unconventional family unit expands further with the birth of three more Terrans, including Nightshade.

Between puzzling out the Terrans’ existence, hiding from GHOST, and fighting threats like the human mad scientist Mandroid, there’s a lot of thematic meat on the bone of this series’ setup. The main one I’m interested in digging into through the lens of Nightshade’s characterization is how the Terrans are written to feel like kids figuring out who they want to be as they grow up. Transformers has a history of designating one or more bots in its series central casts as the rookie/kid character, not insignificantly the Terrans’ primary mentor, Bumblebee, has been traditionally positioned as that very rookie. EarthSpark adding the narrative weight of representing a potential for all Transformers, particularly in how they’ll relate to humans while living on Earth, onto these characters gives more meaning to them being under that role.

The Terrans learn lessons about who they want to be and who they can/can’t trust (not always determined by old alliances like Autobot/Decepticon) from the older Transformers and humans alike. Also proving through their actions everything new they’ll have to offer the world they call home through the gift of their existence. Each Terran has been given the appropriate space so far to have their characters develop, each in their own directions, through this theme.

Nightshade is exemplary of this, best understood through looking at how they’re characterized before/after their first focus episode “Missed Connection”, about them forming a bond with Decepticon scientist Tarantulas.

[SPOILERS for EarthSpark beyond this point]

Before “Missed Connection”

Something that genuinely impressed me going back through EarthSpark for the sake of writing this piece is how immediately Nightshade is fully themself from their earliest bits of screentime in “Age of Evolution.” While the other two members of the second batch of Terran Transformers, Hashtag and Jawbreaker, have their names confirmed upon them by their connection to Robby and Mo, Nightshade actively introduces themself with a bow and a flourish (“It is a delight and a surprise to meet you all!”) This beat quickly establishes their self-assuredness in their identity and that, while they’re later shown to have occasional introverted tendencies, they are anything but shy. I’m also fond of how the scene establishing their pronouns as Optimus lays out their plan of attack also foreshadows their eventual alt-mode, since they ask to be represented by an owl-bobblehead during the planning. The one scene serving as a contrast to their outgoing demeanor, as they recoil at the sight of Mandroid’s cruelty, gives the first hint towards their eventual desire to protect those in need.

There’s only two episodes between Nightshade’s debut in “Age of Evolution” and their first focus episode; “Hashtag: Oops” and “Outtakes.” Since neither is their focus episode, there’s not much to say about how they’re portrayed in either one (in fact, Nightshade’s entirely absent from “Outtakes” as anything but a brief visual cameo.) “Hashtag: Oops” does still manage to establish some key parts of Nightshade’s personality. Firstly, their comfort in themselves as they proclaim they don’t need an alt-mode (“I like who I am as I am.”) Secondly, their inclination towards tech and engineering as they secretly build a new underground base to surprise their family and give everyone more room to operate within. The latter also indicates their “better to ask forgiveness than permission” approach to their tinkering and scientific work. Which comes back around in a big way during “Missed Connection.”

Which finally brings us to the episode that’s the primary reason I’m writing this piece at all!

“Missed Connection”

Being Nightshade’s first proper focus episode in the series, their current state as part of the ensemble cast gets reestablished in short order. Namely, how they feel out of place around their siblings. Their affinity for science and technology leads to them making their own fun separate from the rest of the family. A pattern that gets highlighted by Nightshade working to perfect a new training drone while the rest of their siblings are playing a game of tag outdoors in celebration of Robby and Mo having the day off school. When later questioned by Alex and Dot about why they don’t spend more time with the rest of the family, Nightshade says it feels like their siblings treat them like they’re “speaking another language.”

This sense of isolation informs why Nightshade is so eager later in the episode when they find a connection with Tarantulas’ own work with tech. Simultaneously providing an opportunity for Alex to offer them something they can connect with while trying to figure out how to connect with others. Like any good nerdy dad, he does it through the magic of reading. He offers Nightshade a copy of his favorite book from when he was growing up, “Winged Sentinel”, an in-universe fantasy/sci-fi series they immediately connect with and find new aspirations. Which we hear as they repeatedly call back to the books like about its hero “protecting those in need.” Their connection to this book quickly leads to the one they find working with Tarantulas, as they were in the local cemetery since it was the “last known address” of Winged Sentinel’s author.

(Quick aside: First time I watched this episode, that detail had me thinking the show was going to do a “Nightshade learns about mortality” type of story. I was relieved when not only did Nightshade grok what happened to the author pretty fast, but the episode in turn swiftly shifted to the dynamic between Tarantulas and them.)

“Missed Connection” finds its central theme in Nightshade and Tarantulas’ discussions on identity and finding one’s place within that world rife with conflict that can be directly hostile to those like them. There’s a recurrent motif in the dialogue of Tarantulas’ cynicism born from eons of experience and Nightshade’s youthful enthusiasm. Though cynicism is far from all the elder Transformer has to offer, as he also provides Nightshade with a new perspective on alt-modes they hadn’t considered and ultimately guides them to their choice.

Nightshade: Aren’t I sufficient as I am? Tarantulas: Alt-forms aren’t meant to complete you, as though you have a missing part, they further express who you already are.

Combining that with Tarantulas’ frustration at the “constrictive labels” of Autobot/Decepticon adds to the resonance this episode has with the nonbinary experience. The concept of “passing” gets explicitly evoked by him while discussing his plan to create a hard-light hologram projector so he can live freely as a human while evading GHOST’s forces. Which is the first proper disguise Tarantulas has taken in his life. While his giant spider alt-mode may provide plenty of utility, it’s anything but discreet.

His plan and attitude informing on it connects back to the broader central theme of EarthSpark as a series of the Transformers finding a new way to live on Earth among humanity with the Terrans representing the way forward. He can’t see a way forward besides hiding who he is and the only safety he can think to offer Nightshade is to join him in that life of discretion. His outlook’s best emphasized by his assuredness that the Autobot/Decepticon War resuming is inevitable, alongside that eventuality dragging him out of whatever peace he does find.

However, cracks in Tarantulas’ bleak worldview show as he begins to admire Nightshade’s exuberant demeanor and determination to be a protector. That admiration for a Transformer with the potential to live unburdened by all the hardships he’s seen leads to him delivering the best, most resonant line in the episode:

“It is a gift to know yourself so well, so young. Take pride in that.”

A beautiful sentiment aimed directly at members of EarthSpark’s target demographic on their own journeys to express their identities.

Unfortunately, the bond these characters have found can’t last. When Tarantulas recognizes Dot as an agent of GHOST, he acts rashly under the assumption that she’s holding Nightshade prisoner. He kidnaps Alex and her, planning to erase Nightshade from their memories so they can go into hiding with him. As a fight between the bots eventually breaks out, Nightshade commits to acting like the protector they aspire to be and chooses the alt-mode of a green armored owl, based on the hero of Winged Sentinel. (Alex’s proud declaration of “You read the book!” while witnessing this is great.) A form that isn’t a disguise but expresses themself as they are and what they want to be going forward.

Nightshade and Tarantulas’ conflict has grown intense enough by this point that the elder Transformer’s admiration for the young bot doesn’t come through in his reaction. Rather he flips it into an insult providing Nightshade their opportunity for a sharp, direct retort (and other best line in the episode):

Tarantulas: You’re still just the lost protoform I first met! Nightshade: You’ve just proven you don’t really know me, because I was never lost!

When the fight ends with Tarantulas’ hologram projector destroyed in the skirmish, Nightshade reflects on words Dot offered them earlier about how everyone deserves a second chance and convinces their family not to hurt Tarantulas any further. However, it seems to be a decision out of their hands as GHOST is drawn to their location by the fight. Tarantulas, finally understanding Nightshade’s situation as well as who they are, offers himself up as bait to lure GHOST away from the Maltos. Running off into the forest as Nightshade reflects on the broken hologram projector the two of them made.

Multiple rewatches of this episode, as well as the first season of EarthSpark as a whole, has reaffirmed it as my favorite episode of the show so far. The tight focus of the dynamic between Nightshade and Tarantulas, alongside the deeper meaning that can be taken from pretty much every exchange between the two, is exemplary of what makes this series standout wonderfully as part of the vast Transformers canon.

After “Missed Connection”

Since there’s not that much of the first season left after “Missed Connection”, Nightshade’s once again mostly off to the side doing their own thing. But there are small bits that show how their experiences in that episode have changed them. They actively spend more time around the rest of the Malto Family, like helping Bumblebee train for an upcoming race and showing that they’ve formed a bond built on mutual tech-obsession with their sister, Hashtag, as they work together to further upgrade the underground headquarters.

We also get a fun minor bit of their “better to ask forgiveness…” way of operating when they add some high tech bells and whistles to Dot’s prosthetic leg as a Mother’s Day present in the episode “Bear Necessities.” A plot point that later gives the show an opportunity for Dot and Nightshade to have a nice mother-child bonding moment as she explains to them why she liked her leg the way it was in terms they can understand (“something like this is personal”) while not completely shutting them down over it (“I’m open to some small changes, but they’ll have to be ones we come up with together.”)

Though the biggest moment post “Missed Connection” moment for the character, as well as my personal favorite single scene in EarthSpark so far, comes from their subplot in the season 1 two-parter episode “Home.” As the Malto kids and the Terrans go into Philadelphia to see more of the wider world, we get to see Nightshade continue acting as a protector for those in need as they save a young person named Sam from getting mugged in an alley. Nightshade notices a pin that says “SHE/THEY” on Sam’s handbag and tells her their pronouns in return. The two end up having a conversation about how the things that make them who they are can also make them targets for intolerantly minded people. This interaction ends with Sam affirming they feel safe around Nightshade and giving the young Transformer a simple but effective explanation of what being nonbinary means.

This not only gives Nightshade further context to understand themself, but also has the important touch from a metaperspective of having a human character be the one to explain the concept. An effective dodge of what’s frequently cited as a pitfall of using aliens/robots to explore these facets of human identity, making it as clear as possible for anyone watching (especially the target demographic of kids) that Nightshade’s nonbinary identity is in no way just a product of their being an alien robot. Rather, it's an identity that simply feels right for some people living in the world. One that people who identify with it and explore their connections to it can find immensely fulfilling.

Or, as Nightshade puts it at the end of this conversation:

“What a wonderful word, for a wonderful experience.”

(Before I dive into my conclusion, I want to say I deeply hope this isn’t the last we see of Sam in the series. Both for representation’s sake and because I like seeing the Terrans bond with humans outside of their immediate family circle.)

It would feel wrong to end this look at Nightshade’s character and how that reflects on the best qualities of EarthSpark as a series without giving proper credit to the creative voices involved in bringing them to life. Namely, writer Mae Catt (she/they) who wrote the episode “Missed Connection” and one of the three writers on “Home”, the other two being showrunners Nicole Dubuc and Dale Malinkowski. While fundamentally I believe anyone could write any kind of story, authenticity comes through stronger when writers from the same background are involved. Catt’s passion for writing this show comes through beautifully in these episodes and in how they’ve discussed the show on social media.

Her understanding for what these characters and stories can mean to the young people watching gets clearly reflected in recurrent elements of EarthSpark’s story. Aside from Nightshade’s admiration for the main character of the Winged Sentinel novels, we also see moments in other episodes of their siblings trying to figure out what being a Transformers means through in-universe Transformers comic books telling the story of the Autobot/Decepticon War.

It’s also what drove me to write this piece. I see Nightshade in all their creative, expressive glory and it makes me happy for the kids watching Transformers: EarthSpark, seeing them, and relating to them. Every story has the potential to be a guide someone out there can use to move closer to their heart. Nightshade’s being that guide to nonbinary kids now in a way I never could’ve dreamed of growing up is, simply put, wonderful.

Happy Pride! 💛🤍💜🖤

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#transformers earthspark #transformers #nightshade #nightshade earthspark #Wit's Writing #tv review #nonbinary #lgbtqia #queer #nightshade malto #nightshade transformers #pride #happy pride

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