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queers-gambit · 2 months

Text

Blue Bunny

prompt: you and the Twins show up to collect the same debt.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: Tan's real name being Aaron, Lemon's real name being Brian, Mafia antics, depiction of murder, blood, guns, brief physical violence, given nickname, Daddy's Girl trope? dialogue heavy fic.

"I like the lilac, what do you think? Maybe the yellow?"

"The pink's rather nice."

"How's about green? For St. Patrick's Day? Celebration of spring?"

Your lover chuckled over the receiver, phone set on speaker to the desk in front of you. "Think I prefer the blue," he replied, the smirk evident.

"You always prefer blue," you teased, handing the bottle of pale blue nail polish to your nail tech. "So, tell me, where are you now? Haven't seen yah all week," You pouted, placing your AirPods in to keep the conversation private. Not like it mattered, your nail tech, Collette, only spoke French, and she was the only other person in the room.

"'Fraid I can't divulge that information, sweetheart," Aaron sighed, "on a bit of business right now."

"Now? Like, in the present?" You chuckled, nodding at Collette when she pointed at the length of the acrylic.

"Yeah," Tan mused back, "say hello, sweetheart!"

"Hello, luv!" Brian, or otherwise known as Lemon, was heard calling. His twin, your lover, used the codename Tangerine for the contract agency they worked for - keeping their identities safe. Something you didn't necessarily have to worry about, being as your name held power. It was something like a shield in the criminal world, everyone knowing your surname dictated fear.

"Oh, hello, my sweetness," you cooed, grinning slyly. "What's it you two are up to? What sort of business are you on?"

"Ah, hang on a tick, love," Aaron mused, setting his phone down. You waited patiently, hearing a series of gunshots ringing out as you watched Collette paint the pale blue in sleek, professional strokes. Screams echoed over the line, tires screeches, several grunts of exertion, but you didn't so much as flinch, just admiring the work your nail tech did.

You blew on your nails, admiring the color.

Collette asked if you wanted to keep the paint shiny or add a matte overcoat, you humming, replying in French that you preferred the shiny coat. She held up a bottle of silver glitter, perking her brows, watching you nod - trusting her artistic eye.

"Hello? Still there, Bunny?" Aaron got back on the line, using your pet name he bestowed on you after your first date. You had a cold coming on, and after he kissed you, you instantly sneezed - nose screwing up like a fluffy bunny.

"I'm here," you smiled.

"Right, what color did you go with?"

You grinned, "Take a guess."

"Blue's your color."

"More like yours. I much prefer pastels, but I think this color's the best of both our preferences."

He chuckled, "Listen, yeah? You free Thursday? I'l be in your neck of the woods."

"Ah, I'm traveling this week," you answered with a pout, "what about next week?"

"I might be able t'swing that, yeah," Aaron agreed easily. "You hear from that Edward bloke recently?"

"No, no, I've told you, I'm done with him. You're quite the jealous type, you know, scared him off real good."

"Ah, well, don't like folks touchin' what's mine, now, do I?"

"Apparently not," you smiled, phone line beeping with an incoming call. "Oh, shit, I gotta go, Aaron, Daddy's calling."

"Mhm, and we all know you betta answer, huh?"

"It's how we all stay alive," you laughed. "Bye."

"See yah real soon, Bunny. Make sure your toes match!"

You hung up with a laugh, then accepted your father's incoming call, "Hi, Daddy."

"Hello, sweet one," he answered. "What are you up to?"

"Collette's doing my nails."

"Ah, very good. What color?"

"A pretty pale blue."

"Wonderful. Tell Collette I say hello. We'll have t'get her a sensational Christmas bonus with the way you work her."

You chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Listen, poppet, I need you to do something for me."

"Mhm, anything you need, Daddy."

"One of our associates is late on payment."

"How late?"

"A week."

"Oh, you're taking time in collecting," you mused, appreciating the full set Collette was detailing. "What's the hold up? Why wait?"

"I'm stuck in Prague."

"Daddy."

"I know," he rushed, "but I need you on this one, princess."

"Who's the associate?"

"Fella name Wilmer DeLano."

"I know of him, doesn't he own the chain of pharmacies? His son and I went to university together, right?"

"The exact same," your father confirmed. "I need you to go collect, princess, please."

"How much is the debt?"

"With the added week, chalks it up to $3 million."

"US dollars?"

"Yeah."

"Since when do we deal in US dollars?" You asked with a curled lip.

"Not the question I think you want to be asking."

"Uh, no, you're right, okay, sure, I can collect. Tonight?"

"He's not expecting it, knows I'm still in Prague. Take Rufus and Gunther with you for protection detail."

"I'd rather take Samuel."

"No, he's doing a different favor for me."

"Daddy."

"He's making a delivery, all right?"

"What about Gunther and Casey? Rufus creeps me out."

"That's fine," your father agreed with a sigh. "Listen, princess, tonight might get a little hairy, so I want you prepared."

"Daddy, I'm literally getting my nails done, I'm not handling a gun. That's what Gunther's for."

"I taught you better than that. You protect yourself, you can't depend on anyone else."

You nodded, "Yes, sir. Do you wanna call the boys or...?"

"I'll call them, don't worry. Just be ready to go by 8. Remember, princess, $3 million - and make sure you count it, too."

You agreed, promising you loved him, then wishing him luck in Prague on whatever his business was. After hanging up, Collette smiled, asking in French, "When are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"That you have a boyfriend," she laughed. "He's your father, he'll be happy for you."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, swiping the glitter on your nails. "That boy that you're always on the phone with? You're not hiding it, not from me."

You felt warmth flush your chest, heating your core. "He's still not my boyfriend," you mumbled stubbornly.

"He picks your nail colors," she grinned, "that's a boyfriend!"

You double checked the address your father sent, nodding at Gunther in the driver's seat. "All right, lads, I want this a clean collection. Just got my nails done," you smirked, the lights of the three-story home still on and indicating DeLano must've been home.

"Yes, ma'am," Casey agreed, getting out of the backseat and opening your passenger door; helping you out, letting you readjust your clingy black dress. Gunther moved around the back of the car, grabbing the usual go-bag brought to every collection.

Slowly, carefully, you stalked up the long driveway, heels clacking with every pace. You let Gunther peer through the windows, him nodding before leading the way to the backdoor. It was simple enough to jimmy the lock open, silently swinging the door wide open and stepping over the threshold.

Casey went around the side to enter through the living room as you walked through the kitchen, surrounding your target. Wilmer DeLano was sat at his dining room table with his wife, looking up when you cleared your throat. He jolted in shock, but Casey blocked the only other doorway; his gun in hand, both clasped in front of him.

Gunther checked the rest of the house.

"Hello, Mr. DeLano," you greeted casually. "Oh, something smells wonderful in here, you cook this?" You asked his wife, casually strolling up to the table, Red Bottoms sounding over the polish hardwood floors. You plucked up a slice of roast, tearing a bite off and humming, "Oh, very good that. You're a lucky man, Mr. DeLano to have such a talented wife."

"Who are you?" The portly woman begged, flinching when you hummed and brandished your gun.

"Right, guessing you don't know," you nodded. "Your husband's in a bit of a lucrative business, Missus. Nice house, though," you gazed around, "lot of fine art you've got hung up, saw all name-brand appliances in your kitchen."

"H-He owns a chain of drug stores - "

"Yes, yes, yes, I know. Very true," you agreed, "but that's only a front, it's not the full picture. I'm here to help illustrate, if you will. C'mon, why don't we all go into the living room? Hear that's where the safe is kept."

"What is happening!?" Mrs. DeLano demanded, gun pointed at her temple.

"Up, up," you demanded.

Slowly, Wilmer lifted from his seat with his hands held in peace, "Okay, okay, we can - let's go talk in the living room. Just don't threaten my wife, she's got nothing t'do with this."

"For now," you agreed, gathering the couple to the living room couch.

"Boss," Gunther alerted, dragging your old university classmate and a previous lover, Edward DeLano, up from the basement, "found this one down there, smoking a joint. Rest of the house is clear."

"Wonderful," you nodded, gesturing for Eddie to sit. "You bring enough to share with the class?" But your old peer just looked around the room of criminals. "Guessin' he didn't wanna share," you pouted, then rolling your eyes. "Well, now that we've all gathered - "

Suddenly, there was a noisy crack and bang as the front door was kicked in, making all three of you gangsters turn with weapons drawn and aimed. However, you chuckled and dropped your arm when you realized it was the Twins, Aaron and Brian, or Tangerine and Lemon, standing in the splintered doorway.

"At ease, lads," you chuckled, holstering your gun to your thigh. "These are friends of mine."

"You outsourced the job? Out your fuckin' mind, princess? Huh?" Casey growled, not lowering his gun as Tan and Lem strolled in.

"Don't fuckin' talk to her like that," Aaron snapped instantly.

"Fuck off, Casey, I would never outsource, I know the fucking rules," you sound more amused than anything.

"Well, ain't this fun?" Aaron mused with a grin, strolling in casually before pausing in the open foyer as Brian tried shutting the door again - but it the very doorframe was shattered, making it impossible. "Sorry 'bout the front door, ol' chap, but you understand, yeah? 'S just business," He nodded at DeLano. "Bunny," he smirked at you, hands in his tailored suit pants pockets; polished Italian leather shoes gently scoffing across the floor.

Aaron magnetized to your side, coiling his arm around your waist to lean in and peck your cheek.

"Hi, handsome. Thought you weren't in town until later?"

"We wrapped a different job early," he answered. "Question is: what're you doin' here, love?"

"Collecting debt payment."

"No shit," he grinned, "so are we."

Your head cocked; leaning into his side with your own arm wrapping around his chiseled waist. You asked, "He owes my father money. You?"

"Owes an associate, too." He smirked at the DeLano's you two stood in front of, "Ain't that right, geezer? Got yourself into a bit of a pickle, didn't yah? Got a bit of a problem with the nose candy, don't'cha, naughty boy?"

"You told me you quit!" Mrs. DeLano hissed, "now you're in debt!?"

"I have it under control," Wilmer deflected stiffly.

His wife sobbed and begged, "W-Would someone please just explain what's going on!? Who are you people!?" Tears fell fast. "What do you want from us!?"

"This ain't rocket science, love, fuck you mean what do we want?" Lemon snickered. "You not listenin' or something?"

"Ah, right, well, I was in the middle of explainin' the situation," you told the Twins, waving a manicured hand in the air as if swatting away a pesky fly. "'Ello, lovie," you grinned at Lemon when he stationed himself on your other side, "good t'see you."

"Sweetheart," he nodded, offering a side hug when you released his brother, "been too long, hasn't it?"

"Since Cancún," you agreed. "Right, then! Onward, ho! Casey, darlin', would you be a doll and open the bag? Get us set up t'count up?"

"'Course, boss," he agreed, kneeling at the mahogany coffee table and unzipping the duffel you brought.

"Right," your hands clapped, the family jumping at the sudden sound, "back to what I was sayin'. See, your husband owns the drug stores, that's true," you allotted, "but he also launders money for the Mafia. For my father, my family. Maybe you've heard of him?"

You relaid your father's first and last name, seeing the Fear of God paint over the DeLano's. "What?" Eddie snapped at his father sat beside him. See, despite dating briefly, you kept your identity a secret from Ed. "What have you done!? Do you know who her father is? Know what he's done!? He fuckin' gutted his own brother - "

"Allegedly," you interjected sharply.

" - all in the name of business! You don't know what this family is capable of!"

"Yes, boy, I'm well aware, the man is my bloody business partner," Wilmer snapped right back.

"Well, not so much of a partner now, are yah? Just more of a fuckin' nuisance," You smirked, earning the attention again. "So, you see, your husband washes our money, earns a significant cut for shouldering the risk. Payment's collected every two weeks and as of today, your husband's a week late on delivering our cash load."

"I-I can explain, please - "

"No need," you cut Wilmer off, "because I didn't get t'where I am now by listening to pathetic explanations. I don't listen to excuses. Fact is, you own my father money, and because you're late, the total is now $3 million - and he wants it in US dollars."

"Well, ain't that somethin'?" Tan smirked at Lem. "Turns out, he owes our client some million, too."

You hummed, nodding, "Right, right, but see, thing is, if my Daddy ain't paid, he goes postal. Nasty business, truly messy, just a chaotic clusterfuck, bodies left everywhere, cities in shambles." Turning back to the family, you offered, "So, we're just gonna make this easy. You cough up what you owe, we won't blow your brains out all over this nice Persian rug. Mmmh! See that, love?" You pointed to the fabric you stood on, looking at Aaron. "That's real authentic, you can tell by the threading. Be a shame to ruin it, yeah? Exquisite work."

"Sure is," he agreed, "but did you see up there, Bunny? 'Bove the mantel?"

"Oh, yes," you breathed in impression, "an ancient Aztec tribal mask. An artifact, very hard to get your hands on. Heard the British Museum was actually lookin' for that particular mask."

"Seems like Mr. DeLano is quite the collector of finer things," Lemon admired, pointing at a portrait on the wall. "Oi! Is that what I think? Is that a fucking Monet?"

"Priceless," you nodded.

"Listen, right, we've got strict orders, yeah?" Your lover sighed, shifting his weight. "We're t'collect payment by any means, a message is t'be sent. Right?"

"That's right, yeah," Lemon agreed, crossing his arms. "Make sure this kinda misunderstanding don't happen again."

Gunther asked, "You need tarps for this?"

You refused, "No, we're not here to kill anyone. We're here to let a loyal man the opportunity to pay us what's owed."

"Listen t-t-to me," Wilmer begged, stuttering in fear, "I don't have the money. Okay? The government came sniffin', I had tax liens to pay off to avoid prison time - "

"More fuckin' excuses! Jesus, fuck, man!" You groaned. "Who do you think can do more damage - the bloody government or my family? Huh? Look, lad, I know you've got what we're owed, so, be a good li'l boy and open the safe. Huh?"

"Fucking do it, Dad!"

"What're you doing, Wilmer? What are you waiting for!? You can't play this game! You'll get us all killed!"

"I don't have the money! How can I pay with what I don't have!?"

"Why do I not believe that?" You mused to Tan.

"'Cause you've been in this business a helluva lot longer than he has," Tangerine / Aaron answered. "You know a rat when you smell one, I reckon."

You nodded, then pulled your gun out again, aiming, and firing at Eddie's knee to shatter his kneecap. Blood splattered onto the couch. He screamed in agony, you raging above the panicked cries and shocked shouts, "Do I have your fucking attention now, Mr. DeLano?"

Edward sobbed in pain, trying to staunch the bleeding, Mrs. Delano gasping and shrieking. "Do whatever they want, Wilmer! For fuck's sake! Just do it!"

"Listen to your wife, mate," Lemon advised. "Unhappy wife, unhappy life, innit?"

You aimed at Eddie's other knee, firing, causing another flurry of screaming, crying, and begging. "If you want your son t'only have two bullets in 'im, I suggest you get moving!" You barked, aiming at Wilmer. "Now!"

"Well, wait a tick," Tangerine halted, "if we're both on the job, how's it gonna look if the geezer's telling us the truth, hey? Who gets the money?"

"Let's find it first, darlin', distribute later," you breathed as Casey finished setting up the automatic money counter. "Mr. DeLano? I advise you to do what we're asking. See, I use to duck hunt - I'm an excellent shot. The next bullet's goin' in your son's head and I never miss. Now, where's the fucking money!?"

"I don't have it! Please!"

"The money, DeLano, where's the fucking money!?"

"Please - "

"You want a dead son!?"

"All right!" He sobbed, "All right, fine! Yes, you win! Just please, please! Don't hurt my family anymore! Please, just leave them alone! I'll do what you want, just - leave them out of this!"

You nodded, "Well, you fucked with my Daddy's money. Only right I cripple you in a sense. Hey? Now, chop chop," you checked your watch for the time, "I'm a very busy bee and don't have all night."

"You're a smart lad, DeLano, we know you would've wanted to prep for a comfy fall if it came to it," Lemon laughed easily from beside you. "Ain't no way you're bone dry, know you have money stashed for security. Just c'mon, mate, these two sickos consider this a sort of foreplay, they'll go all fuckin' night with yah if you continue to refuse," he gestured at you and Tan.

You tacked on, "Lotta places to shoot someone without killin' 'em. Just saying..."

Wilmer stood from the couch, his wife shooting across the newly vacated space to embrace her whimpering son. The money launderer approached the Monet painting and lifted it from the wall; revealing an iron safe. You shared a look with Tangerine, smirking as the combination was entered and the door opening.

"That's what we fuckin' thought," Tangerine sneered, seeing the stacks and stacks and stacks of money. " Fuckin' hell. Right, so, look, count up the lady first. We'll settle after," he sniffed, fluffing his suit's lapel, picking off a piece of lint.

Wilmer began handing stacks to Casey to count, one of your arms crossing over your stomach to prop up your other arm; hand limp in the air. "Faster," you demanded, the man sweating bullets.

"Oh, now, look at that," Tan mused, taking your hand to admire your fresh manicure, "you went with blue."

"Like it?"

"Looks real pretty, Bunny, but I know something these would look better wrapped around," he grinned, making you smack his stomach playfully. "You wanna go get drinks afta this? My treat."

"Sounds like a date," you accepted, Gunther storing the counted cash into the dark duffel. "How's it lookin', Casey?"

"Looks 'bout right, boss," he reported, handing over another stack of banded money. "You want me t'count the Twins up?"

"Oh, if you would please, darlin', it would be very helpful," you nodded. "But I'm having a thought, right? Stay with me, would yah?"

"Oh, go on, toots, you've got great ideas," Lemon encouraged with a chuckle.

"Not always," Casey snickered, "remember what happened in Texas? At that Western bar?"

"Oi, the electronic bull was not my fault!"

"But the incident with the tequila and donkey was!"

"Hush!" You scolded. "Listen, all right, you see, this fucker tried to stiff us all... Let's clear the safe out. Take away any safety net? Truly cripple him, set him back to nothing?"

"Sound like your father," Gunther chuckled.

"That's a compliment," you shot back. "Go on, I want the lot."

Gunther agreed, standing, and approaching the safe. He shoved Wilmer out of the way, sweeping his arm into the safe and starting to load up the duffel. "You can't do this! If you take it all, what are we supposed to do!? How is my family supposed to survive when leeches like you suck us dry!?" Wilmer barked, making the amusement drop from your face.

"Watch your tone."

"No! No, I will not! You think you're high and mighty because of your father, but you're just a spoilt little girl! You all break into my house, extort me - "

"Can you truly extort a criminal? For the money they owe other criminals?" Brian / Lemon wondered out loud as he meandered the living room, making you shrug.

"He likes playing victim," you mused, but in the time you looked over your shoulder, Wilmer charged. You gasped when his shoulder bullied into your gut, tackling you past Tangerine and into the coffee table, shattering it.

"GO! RUN!" He shouted at his family, Tangerine lunging instantly to wrangle him off of you; the breath knocked from your lungs.

"Got some fuckin' nerve, don't yah!? Touchin' my girl!?" He raged, throwing the man to the floor again. "Nobody fuckin' moves!" Aaron growled, gun pointed at Wilmer.

"Not like they can, two blown out knees," Brian grunted as he helped pick you up from the wreck.

"Yeh all right, Bunny?"

"All right, love, yeah," you answered and adjusted your dress, picking up your weapon as Tan began wailing his balled-up fist into Wilmer's face at a jackhammering pace. It was wildly attractive, watching the man you were in-love with beat the shit out of someone who offered you threat and harm. Then something caught your eye, gasping, "Oh, you rat bastard! You broke my fucking nail!"

You yanked Tan back; aiming at Wilmer, pulling the trigger to let a close-range bullet explode the man's head; leaking brain matter on the Persian carpet. You turned to Mrs. DeLano and Eddie, cocking your head as they begged and pleaded for their lives, but you weren't listening anymore. "Got it all, boss," Gunther informed, dropping the stuffed duffel. "What we doin' with them?"

"Exactly what my father would do," you decided. "No witnesses."

"PLEASE! NO, GOD! NO, DON'T, PLEASE! WE WON'T SAY ANYTHING, I SWEAR! I SWEAR! PLEASE! MERCY! MERCY MERCY!"

Three more gunshots sounded, Tangerine's gun smoking before being tucked back into his shoulder holster under his jacket. "Well," he fluffed his lapels again, sniffling harshly, "shall we be on our way, Bunny? We good here?"

"Oh, might as well - got what we needed," you agreed, grimacing when blood bloomed towards your expensive shoes. "Ugh, what a mess. I'll make a call, have this cleaned up, pose it as a murder-suicide," you side-stepped the puddle. "Gunther, Casey, take what you want from this place, get the cash back to the stash house. I'm gonna grab a drink with the lads," you smirked, looping your arm with Aaron's.

Lemon / Brian packed up their share of the money, following behind as Tangerine / Aaron lead you from the house; placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting the end, inhaling, tossing his free arm around your neck. The night was dark and brisk, refreshing on your clammy skin as you stabilized your breathing; always a little shaken after taking life.

Call it morality.

Once in their tinted Mercedes, Brian got in the backseat, Tan rolled his window down to smoke, and you pulled out your ringing cell phone to answer, "Hi, Daddy."

He breathed in relief, "Good, you answered. Means nothing bad happened."

"That's not entirely true," you admitted. "We're leaving now."

"What happened?"

You winced, brushes already forming, "DeLano got bold, he attacked. So we left no witnesses."

"Good girl," he praised. "You feel all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm actually going to drinks with some, uh, friends," you glanced at Tangerine - seeing his lips pulled in a smirk as he started the car and pulled off down the street. "Turns out, DeLano didn't just owe us, but some coke dealer, too. Right, love?" You checked.

"Right," Aaron confirmed, reaching over to plant his hand on your thigh and give a soft squeeze.

"Right, yeah, so, he tried lying 'bout money, I shot his son's kneecaps - "

"That's my girl!"

" - and cleared the safe out. That's when DeLano attacked me - "

"WHAT!?"

"Daddy," you reprimanded softly. "I'm okay. Actually, the hired contractors on the job saved my arse - they showed up after we did with the same agenda. Gunther and Casey are gonna take the cash to a stash house, I gotta call Mr. Brooks about cleaning up."

"Did you say contractors?"

"Yeah, uh, you know, from The Agency?"

"You mean hitmen?"

"Yeah, guess you could say that. Think they're more like contract killers? Verbiage is so fickle."

"Who? Who exactly was there?"

"The Twins, Daddy. Don't worry, they're absolutely charming, only took their payment. We're gonna go for drinks, yeah?"

"Huh," he grunted, "must've been some bigwig t'send them two. Or a considerable debt." You were about to reply when he gasped in realization, "Wait, no. No, no, hang on a tick, don't bloody tell me."

"What?"

"This the lad you've got a thing for, innit? The one that sends yah flowers every other week?"

"Daddy."

"Don't tell me it's that Tangerine fucker, princess, please!"

"Oh, no, look at that, we're heading into a tunnel! I'm gonna lose the call; talk tomorrow, be safe, good luck in Prague, okay, muah! Muah! Muah! Love you! Bye, bye, bye!" You rambled quickly, blowing air kisses, then hanging up swiftly.

"The hell was that about?" Aaron chuckled. "He mad we were there?"

"Not entirely."

"Was he mad you're gettin' drinks with us?" Brian laughed from the back.

"That's a little more accurate. Well," you winced, "he was a bit testy that I'm goin' with Aaron..."

"I haven't done a damn thing to him," he grumbled.

"You do have a bit of a reputation, bruv."

You smiled sweetly, gripping Aaron's hand on your thigh, "He's my father, 'course he's gonna worry."

"'Bout time he found out, keeping you two a secret was mad frustrating, yeah? You two are disgustingly in-love."

Tangerine squeezed your thigh again, sending you a bright grin, "That we are."

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

430 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 9 months

Note

Imagine you and Eddie aren’t like official but just fuck around allot and you’ve stolen one of his shirts. One night you fuck around with some other guy before going to a corroded coffin gig and when you go up to hug Eddie he can smell the different guy on his shirt and he gets so jealous 😮‍💨 I live for jealous Eddie

AN | Stopppp, jealous Eddie?? Jealous rockstar Eddie?? Yes please! Enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language, Mentions of Sex

Pairing | Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Eddie!" You were breathless from giggles as he tickled your sides, keeping you pinned beneath him, "stop! Have mercy!"

"Hmmm," he stopped momentarily, hands settling on your hips as he brushed his thumbs along your soft skin, "why should I?"

"I'll do whatever you want," you promised, smile saccharine and eyes still heavy and soft from the orgasm you were coming down from, "promise."

"I can't say no to that, pretty girl," he brought his hand to your face, tenderly brushing his knuckles along your cheek. Your face turned warm as you looked away, unused to the extraordinarily tender gesture. Usually whenever you fucked it was just…fun. But this was something more, "promise me we'll do this again."

"You already know I can't say no to that," you grinned, reaching up and putting your hand on his chest to push him off you. There was something about the moment that was getting to be too much, too intimate between the two of you, "now get off you sap."

"Baby," he groaned as he watched you slip out of his bed still naked, bathed only in the moonlight that was streaming in through the window.

"Baby," you chirped back at him, reaching into dresser drawers and pulling out one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers. You slipped them, almost oblivious to the fact that Eddie's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets, "I gotta go, but I'll see you later?"

"Stay," he patted the empty side of the bed next to him. The one that should belong to you, if you weren't so reluctant to stay…ever. You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering if it was best to go or if one night of post-sex cuddling was going to break you, "what's the harm, huh?"

"Edward," he huffed at the use of his full name but his heart skipped a few beats as you came back over and slipped under the covers next to him, "you better stop or I might start to think you're catching feelings."

"And what if I was?" He angled his body towards yours, draping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his frame, "would that be so bad?"

"Eddie…we've talked about this," but you still laced your fingers through his and squeezed them, "you're not here half the time and it's just…what's wrong with what we have? We're friends and we have fun. Let's keep it at that."

“Y-yeah,” he swallowed down every other thing he wanted to say and just nodded before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You shifted around so you were turned towards him, his handsome face almost hidden completely. You leaned in and kissed him, trying to quell any of the odd sensations both of you might have been feeling, “we’ll do that.”

“Can I keep your clothes?” you laid your head onto his pillow, inhaling deeply in order to memorize his scent, “that way I’ll remember you while you’re gone.”

“Fuck yeah,” there was definitely something stirring in his belly at the thought of you wearing his clothes. It was absolutely a primal and savage sort of possessive feeling, but it ran deep. At least when it came to you, "'sides you look way better than me in them."

"Whatever, handsome," you scoffed lightly, "you'll call while you're gone right?"

"So long as you come to the last show of the tour," he practically preened into your touch as you brushed his roguish curls out of his face.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," and it was true. You knew you'd miss him for three months he was gone, but when he was back it would be magic. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever, right?

"Good," he kissed you once more, softly and differently from how he normally did. It wasn't that he was never gentle with you, he often was, but it was clear that something was different tonight, "now get some rest, princess."

"G'night Eddie," you closed your eyes as you snuggled further into him, warm and comfortable and feeling more confused than ever, "sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite."

If this was supposed for be just sex, why did this feel like anything but?

Ugh.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It felt like it had been forever since the last night you’d spent with Eddie. Since the last night you’d had sex and cuddled for hours afterwards. You were missing him like crazy, despite how often he managed to call you; you almost thought that he was actually making it a point to call you (he was). Often you found yourself laying around and waiting for his calls…they were the highlight of your day.

“You could always just tell him that you want to be more than just friends,” Steve pulled you out of your thoughts as you clutched at your now rapidly beating heart. Steve flicked his rag at you as you scoffed and tried to think about how to even respond to that, “instead of just lusting after him.”

“I don’t…” you trailed off and start aggressively cleaning the espresso machine, thankful that it was a slow evening in the cafe, “we’re just friends!”

“Friends that like to have sex with each other-”

“Exactly!”

“And happen to have feelings for each other.”

“Wait, what - no,” you couldn’t face him. You knew his big, curious eyes would be able to see right through your lie. It was a quality you both loved and hated about him, “it’s not like that.”

“Mhmm," he didn't believe you for a second, "whatever you say."

"I'm not lying, Steven," your insistence was cute and made him smile even harder. He loved seeing his best friends in love - it was even better when two of his best friends were in love with each other. He was going to make this worth it.

"Then why haven't you been dating since he's been gone for so long?" He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, "I thought you liked going on dates."

"I do, ugh! I just haven't met anyone worthwhile recently," you were almost positive that was true. Steve wasn't buying it, tutting at you, "the dating scene has just been…dry lately."

"Mhmm…"

"Don't do that!" You threw your rag onto the counter and held up your hands in exasperation, "I hate when you do your little mhmm thing like you just know everything going on in my mind! There's nothing to this. Nothing. Eddie is my friend, we have sex, and that's it! It doesn't have to be more than that. Can we please just drop this?”

“Yes - yeah, sorry,” some of his cheer died down as he nodded. He hadn’t meant to upset you but he had been so sure that you really had feelings for Eddie and vice versa. He just wanted you to be the happiest possible, “consider it dropped.”

“Thank you,” you offered him a small little half smile that was more disconcerting rather than encouraging, “now - do you and Robin want to go out for drinks this weekend?”

And just like that the idea of Eddie left your mind again. It was easier to ignore the nagging feeling that was growing at the thought of him as long as it was pushed far from your mind. He was still going to be gone for almost another month. By the time he got back, you could surely have put him out of your mind…and feelings. Most importantly you needed him to worm his way out of the part of your heart that he occupied almost entirely.

Ugh This was only getting harder.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur and it was definitely by choice. You started going on dates every weekend and even some week nights. They were guys you’d met either out and about, a couple were through friends, and the rest were chance encounters when you’d go out for the night. Most of them were so unmemorable that you couldn’t even recall their names.

The worst part of all was that you didn’t even care about knowing their names or anything about them. At the end of every date or as soon as the sex was done your mind kept wandering back to him. To Eddie.

Steve and Robin, among others, were definitely growing more and more concerned with every passing day. You weren’t acting yourself and if anyone even mentioned it, you’d just ignore it or just play it off. You were fine, nothing was wrong and you weren’t doing anything wrong. If anything it was a weird coping mechanism. Besides all of that, you were sure that Eddie was likely doing the same thing. He was a rock star after all, partying and hooking up with groupies was commonplace.

The night before Corroded Coffin’s hometown show you’d hooked up with a guy named Matteo (you were sure that was probably some hipster name he’d chosen for himself) that you had met at a bar. He wasn’t anything special, good looking and well dressed in a very typical way, but nothing to write home about. In a few days you’d have all but forgotten about him. His best quality was probably that he was good in bed, giving without expecting anything in return which, with most men, was a rarity.

And yet, you still couldn’t help but compare it to Eddie. Eddie was the best you’d ever had and he was well aware of that fact. He always left you wanting more, and there was a small, wicked part of you that couldn’t help but imagine you were in bed with him when it was someone else. You might have even called one of them by his name…yeah. That one hadn’t ended well.

But this one night stand had turned into a whole day stand, where the two of you barely left your bed, opting inside to stay inside and have sex. The fact that this was the night Eddie was back from tour and playing the last show ...absolutely had everything to do with it.

Before you left for the show you’d thrown on a pair of cutoff shorts and the t-shirt you’d stolen from Eddie the last time you’d hooked up. Prior to making it out the door, Matteo had convinced into have another quickie and you decided that there wasn’t anything wrong with it. As soon as you were done, however, you kicked him out so you could finish your hair and makeup before going to the show. He’d practically begged for another date, or for you to at least call him, as he left and the best you gave him was a little half hearted sure.

You weren’t going to call him again. You were both well aware of that little fact.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You attended the sold-out show with Robin and Steve, the three All those of you in the VIP section in the front. There was something about Eddie’s stage presence that practically made you swoon; he owned the stage, just like he was meant to be there. You were positive that a few times he caught your eye, somehow managing to pick you out of the crowd, and that made butterflies explode in your tummy.

All those months of working to get over him were undone in a two hour set, and you felt like a lovesick puppy all over again. Well, fuck. Back to square one again.

Your eyes were practically glued to Eddie as you watched the band play; you felt mildly bad for not appreciating the hard work the rest of the boys were putting in but yeah. You were a pathetic sucker that happened to be in love with her best friend. You could admit that much by now…you'd never admit that to anyone else but to yourself it didn't taste so bitter. Instead it was saccharine and sweet.

After the show, the three of you made your way backstage, and your heart began to pound harder with each step. Each step brought you closer to him. You willed yourself to act natural.

But when you got backstage, Eddie was already standing there and waiting, or at least you presumed so, for you. Every ounce of self control that remained in your body suddenly left at the giant grin that Eddie offered you. Robin and Steve exchanged a look and a nod before slyly making their exist; it was all in your hands now.

"Hey there, pretty girl," you could feel Steve and Robin's eyes bouncing between the two of you. And then you decided - fuck it. He cocked his head to the side, and eyebrow raised in amusement, "what? No hello?"

You ran over to him, almost knocking him over into the process but Eddie managed to catch you. You wrapped your arms tightly around him and he reacted in kid, his hand soothing up and down your back.

"I've missed you so much," it was easier to confess than you'd thought as you pulled back from him. You were beaming up at him, but he didn't appear to be returning the sentiment. You grow worried as a scowl tugged down the corners of his mouth, "w-what's wrong?"

He tugged on the collar of your shirt, and shook his head, "have you been fucking someone?"

The growl in his voice sent a delicious shiver down your alone. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before cringing slightly, "umm, listen, I - it's kind of complicated."

"Who was it?" He repeated, his ringed hand going to your jaw and forcing you to look directly at him, "tell me."

"Well, this one's name was Matteo…" your answer was not enough to satiate him at all.

"This one?" He echoed as you shrugged sheepishly, "how many were there?"

"Like…eight-ish," you dropped your voice so he almost couldn't hear but - he heard you loud and clear.

"Ish?"

"Nine," you threw your hands in his exasperation as Eddie took a step back, laughing in anything but amusement.

"You fucked other guys while I was gone," he wasn't even asking, rather telling you, "why?"

"I, umm, thought it would be fun? Needed something to do," you could feel his eyes boring into you, "and you were gone."

"Silly, foolish little thing," he trailed his fingers along your jaw before shaking his head, "you don't get it, do you?"

"G-get what?" He brushes his thumb along your lip, causing your eyes to widen in shock.

"You are mine," he stated firm as you inhaled sharply, "you belong to me. Not anyone else."

"But Eddie-"

"I can smell him all over you," he tugged on the black shirt again, "you have a lot of nerve fucking someone in my shirt, pretty girl."

"I didn't-"

"I think it's time to teach some lessons," your cheeks warmed up at his words and found yourself unable to say anything else, "and remind you that you're mine."

"'m yours," and there it was. Out in the open and just so easy. It felt so right to say. Eddie smiled wolfishly as he nodded.

"It's about time you got there," his voice dropped to something softer as you just nodded, "baby, I've been wanting this, you and only you, for so long now."

"I-I think I've known," you swallowed the lump in your throat, "but I just…I just couldn't face it."

"Why not?" He took your face in his hands and gently looked you over, "hmm?"

"I was scared," you confessed, "I am. I don't want to fuck this up and I don't want you to hurt me."

"I'm scared too," he whispered, "but I'm never going to hurt you, baby. Promise you won't hurt me?"

"Never," you laughed softly, a gentle smile on your face. The last thing you'd ever do was hurt the man you'd been in love with for longer than you'd care to admit. He was everything, "I could never hurt you, Eddie."

"I know," he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "but now - you're coming with me. And I'm reminding you just how much I love you and that you belong to me. Yeah?"

"Y-yeah," you agreed eagerly, "but wait - Eddie…"

"Hmm?"

"I've missed you so much," your voice was small as you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "I'm glad you're home."

"Me too," he pressed a kiss to your cheek in return, "so glad, pretty girl."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #joseph quinn #st #rockstar!eddie

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shelbgrey · 10 months

Note

Honey, I want something for “being Carlisle and Esme's youngest daughter”. and being Garrett's love interest! I love him, however, he has few things on this platform! Guys are very protective of her as well as girls. Thanks for the attention 🌷💌.

Being Carlisle and Esme's youngest daughter HCs:

Paring: daughter!Reader x Dad!Carlisle x Mom!Esme (Reader x Boyfriend!Garrett)

Summary: headcanons about carlisle and Esme's daughter dating Garrett.

💜MasterList 💜twilight MasterList

So I think they're youngest daughter is gonna remain human for awhile. Your the only cullen 'child' that has been legally adopted by carlisle and Esme, So your actually they're daughter.

You were the daughter of an old friend of Esme's, your mother died giving birth to you and your biological father just wasn't fit to take care of you. Esme and Carlisle took you in under your bio-mom's wishes.

Anyway, Esme was over the moon excited to have a baby in the house, she practically never put you down... Unless Carlisle wanted to hold you and cuddle you.

The two never really gotten the chance to be actual parents, with the other's they were already grown and matured, but with you they could finally experience parent hood.

Your defently a daddy's girl, Carlisle loves you with every single cell in his body and he's very over protective of you... Unfortunately to the point he didn't trust Jasper alone with you when you were a baby.

Speaking of Jasper and siblings, you literally have the best siblings in the world. If you thought carlisle was over protective just wait till you see the boys.

Emmett and you are the closet, he's always making you laugh and 'wrestling'. He'll do just about anything for you or with you. He's probably also the most protective out of your three brothers.

When you were little Edward would often read you stories and teach you how to play piano.

Jasper is your go to person when you have a problem, he's the best listener and he has your back.

As you got older the protectiveness got old, high school wasn't easy with them around but honestly they're the reason you survived.

But the protectiveness didn't get really annoying till you met Garrett, your mate.

In all honesty it's Edward and Bella's fault (Emmett words not yours). You and Bella don't get along at all and she's jealous of yours and Edward's relationship... That's a story for another time though, this is yours and Garrett's story.

Anyway, the family didn't really expect it to happen. After going to Egypt with your parents you decided to met the other guests, that's how you met Garrett.

He cought your eye immediately and the feeling was mutual, Carlisle didn't like how Garrett would look at you.

“who were you talking to?” your dad asked after leaving the living room. “dose it matter?”

“no, no, it doesn't matter unless it's a Boy!”

You just brushed it off, knowing your dad was just being over protective and You continued to get to know Garrett.

You thought he was very charming and funny. Dispite the situation you were currently in with Renesmee he was always making you laugh.

Your parents were happy and all, but at the same time Carlisle didn't want to see you get hurt.

“Dad, what are you doing?” you asked after put some space between you and Garrett.

“there should be a safe distance between you and boys... Especially this one”

Anyway, Garrett realized the problem and went to Carlisle about it. They were both old fashion.

“I think I love your daughter and I want to your promising to date her”

Carlisle's problems seemed to go away slightly. “well it's up to her... But if you hurt her you'll deal with me”

after your family won the battle with the vulturi he took you at on that date. He treated you like a queen the whole time and he asked you to be his girlfriend at the end of the night.

So he did join the coven after awhile. The whole nomad life wasn't pleasant to him anymore. He even changed to the vegetarian diet for you.

He likes like being productive of you, but he knows you can take care of yourself.

Emmett dose send deth threats when you started dating. “you better not hurt her” carlisle doesn't have a violent bone in his body, but Emmett dose.

But after the family saw how happy you were they welcomed Garrett into the family with open arms.

“I'll follow you anywhere woman” he smiled.

#Breaking dawn part 2 #Garrett x reader #Carlisle cullen x reader #Esme cullen x reader #Twilight headcanons #Twilight Imagines #Garrett headcanons #Garrett imagines #Carlisle cullen headcanons #Esme cullen headcanons #Emmett cullen x reader #Rosalie Hale x reader #Alice cullen x reader #Jasper Hale x reader #Edward cullen x reader

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sameheart-sameblood · 1 year

Text

Love in the Time of Cordyceps

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. joel miller makes that rule hard to stick to

words: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of gore (pretty tame but still), swearing, sickness, angst, fluff, two dummies not realizing they love each other until one of them almost dies 🙄

a/n: this was supposed to be more angsty but then i remembered life is hard enough already. and i just want soft joel soooo here we are. also i meant to write 2k at most but boy do i love to ramble

read on ao3!

After the world goes to hell, you promise yourself you’ll never love again. A person, an animal, a place, nothing. Only a fool would choose to make themselves that vulnerable, needing every fiber of your being one hundred percent devoted to your survival and nothing more.

Was a life without love worth living? Every time that question enters your mind, you swat it aside. It’s like a nagging fly that buzzes around you until your persistence finally drives it away completely. Of course you could live without love. You’d been doing it just fine these past fifteen years.

Living without attachment proves useful in the new world you find yourself in. It makes the countless people you lose along the way easier to move on from. In the early days, your heart still twinges as the people around you drop like flies. Most fall victim to the bites of clickers, some to raiders’ gun, a few by their own hand.

The first group you had travel with is filled with Midwesterners who see the terrors of the new world and still somehow have a smile and a joke for you. Their joviality can’t save them, though. Clickers swarm you one rainy night two years after the fall of civilization. The sight of Gail, a woman who reminds you of your grandmother, having her stomach ripped out by an especially voracious clicker cures you of your need for any connections to the living.

Over the years, you make your way to the East Coast. Smiles, defiant in the face of adversity are replaced by permanent grimaces etched into the faces of everyone you meet. It seems as though every survivor has lost the ability for happiness of any kind. Good, you think, they’re finally learning. You wonder what took them so long.

Tales of peace the Canadian wilderness has to offer reaches your ears. In your heart you know it is most likely a tall tale spread by desperate survivors. But the good thing about a zombie apocalypse is you now have nothing but time on your hands. Working your way north, if all goes well, you’ll reach Saint John by May, continue to Port Elgin and then decide if you’d try for Prince Edward Island or turn east to Nova Scotia.

Plans are made to be broken, though, and yours, along with your ankle, break clean through one day as you make your way through Boston. It would have been over for you if not for the two survivors that find you nursing your injury in a department store that will most likely be swarming with clickers by nightfall.

The woman, after she puts her gun away, introduces herself as Tess. The man doesn’t offer his name, preferring to keep the barrel of his shotgun pointed at you. As they argue quietly over what to do with you, you observe their faces. Both are etched hard with years of loss and worry. Even harder than your joyless face. It’s impressive albeit in a sad kind of way.

Tess had somehow persuades the man to help you back to the Boston QZ. Joel. You hear her call him Joel. “Fine,” he had grumbles as he places your arm over his shoulder for support, “but if she scans red, I will not hesitate to put her down.” Oddly enough his threat somehow makes you almost like him. You sense a kindred spirit. Another follower of the “no love, no attachment” way of life.

You do not, in fact, scan red and are allowed to enter the QZ. An apartment is assigned to you, a crappy little studio with faded lime green paint. The old you would have adored it, called it quirky and planned out how best to decorate it with your meager funds. The new you just appreciates a safe place to sleep.

After your ankle heals, Tess invites you to join her smuggling scheme. Thoughts of Canada flee your mind for the time-being and you gladly welcome something to keep yourself occupied.

“But what about the cowboy?” you ask.

“Joel? What about him?”

Your eyebrows arch, “He threatened to shoot me.”

“Only if you were infected. Just don’t get infected.” She says it like you’re discussing the weather.

Joel allows you into the group begrudgingly, probably because he thinks they can use you as bait or a distraction if needed. Fine. Let them label you bait. You’ve been called worse before.

The first few months working together are tense. Joel reprimands you for the smallest mistakes and warns Tess you’ll get them all killed. At first, you bite your tongue, reminding yourself of the part he had in saving you. But one night after he scolds you for the millionth time about not checking your blind spots for clickers, you snap. “Fuck off, Joel! I survived the clickers for fifteen years. I think I know what I’m fucking doing!.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, wandering off with a hurt pout like he wasn’t the one who was just being the asshole. You wonder why your victory leaves you feeling hollow.

After that, Joel keeps his mouth shut around you. No nagging, no “helpful” tips. Just the bare minimum of whatever he needs to convey. You’ll never admit that it hurts. You don’t have to, though. Tess, at the end of her rope, explodes one night as the three of you eat dinner in awkward silence. “Couple of fuckin’ babies I’m working with,” she seethes. “If you don’t grow up I’m finding a new crew.”

It’s decided that you and Joel will do the next supply run to Bill’s. Alone. No Tess there to act as buffer between you and him. Joel grunts at that but doesn’t argue, always deferring to your leader. The trip to Bill’s goes as well as you can ask. There are no arguments between the two of you at least. You’re sure you even see Joel crack a smile. Of course it’s when you clumsily tripped over a raised tree root…But hey, progress is progress.

With the supplies in tow and Frank’s compound behind you, you actually think this trip might be a success. A gang of raiders lying in wait to sabotage you dashes your hopes of that. They had seen the two of you lugging your supplies and thought it would be an easy win. At first, they are correct. They outnumber you and Joel in size and wickedness. The four of them aren’t content to kill you outright. They tie you up and discuss what to do with you next.

Of course their attention quickly falls on you. The man with an ugly gash across his face leers at you. “Maybe we should keep her around awhile. She looks like fun.” Try as you might to act tough, that sends the blood rushing through your ears.

You almost don’t hear Joel snarl at them. “You lay one finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” The venom in his voice snaps you back to reality. While their attention is on him, you discreetly start ripping at your bonds with the little pocket knife you thankfully decided to stow in your back pocket.

They beat Joel senseless by the time you get free. You honestly think you’re too late as you stab the goon nearest to you in the thigh, by some miracle hitting his femoral artery. The others turn to you, blindsided as you go wild at the sight of your bloodied and broken companion. Gash-Face comes roaring at you, all brawn no brains. The look of surprise as you lodge the knife in his neck makes you smile with sickening glee.

The remaining two corner you, murder in their eyes. Your gun is just beyond them, taunting you to come retrieve it. The only “weapon” you have is the belt you’re wearing, it’s clasp heavy and silver. You undo it and swing it at the nearest man. He grabs it, cackling victoriously as he uses it to pull you closer. In their grasp, you become the target of their blows. You curl into the fetal position, angry that after all the near death experiences you’ve had, this will be the way you go out.

A shot rings out, then another. Two thuds on the ground next to you make you open your already swollen eyes. As you look up, you realize your savior is Joel. Back from the dead. His face is covered in blood, like some kind of ghoul. But in that moment, you have never seen someone look more like an angel. The two of you limp back to the QZ where Tess nurses you as she simultaneously curses the deceased thugs.

Joel corners you in the bathroom the next day as you study your bruised face. “You could have run,” he hisses at you, making you jump. You don’t know what he wants so you just shrug. He invades your space, making you back against the counter. “Why didn’t you run?” His voice has gone low, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Faces inches from each other, all you can muster is a weak, “We’re a team. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Several emotions flicker across his face in quick succession. Anger, fear, worry and something you can’t quite put your finger on. Pride? Maybe that was you projecting but you hope you were right. Joel studies you for a moment longer, then reiterates, “Next time, you run.”

******

After that, things change. Joel is still a man of few words but the ones he does grace you with are softer and more intentional. Instead of berating you for the knowledge and skills you lack, he takes them time to teach you. He shows you how to identify fake ration cards and to spot the kind of guard you can bribe. Nights are spent with you following behind him like a shadow as he shows you all the secret ways in and out of the QZ. When your hands shake during target practice, he places his calloused ones over yours. It steadies your hands but frays your nerves, threatening to awake a feeling long thought dormant.

It goes both ways. Joel lacks attention to detail in certain situations and you show him how to read people and ascertain their flaws that can be exploited. During your runs you point out the flora that can be consumed safely or used as medicine. At Flynn’s, the only bar in the QZ, you teach him how to play pool. An essential to survival? No. But it sure helps you win a huge stash of ration cards from your fellows survivors. It also gives you an excuse to sidle up behind him and mold your body around his, all in the name of helping him get the “proper pool stance.”

Your excuses to fleetingly touch one another became more and more common. They are all perfectly innocent but carry the weight of something elicit, at least to you. Joel is never one to give away his innermost thoughts, happy to wear a permanent poker face. For all you know he couldn’t care less about you. Maybe he just knows keeping you alive is good for business and that’s why he takes a particular interest in making sure you’re safe. Whatever the reason, you hope he never stops.

******

During one supply run, a torrential thunderstorm forces you to spend the night at Bill and Frank’s. You know it makes Joel nervous to be indebted to anyone for such hospitality but you can’t hide your glee. A night there means a cozy bed and a hot shower, something hard to find in your home where the water runs tepid at best.

Afterwards spending way too long in the bathroom, you curl up in your bed, toasty and content, only to find sleep won’t not come. Your hosts are dear to you, even the grumpy Bill, but their snoring through the wall you share makes hopes for a deep sleep impossible.

After an hour of tossing and turning, you decide to go make your bed on the couch. As you tiptoe down the stairs you run into Joel, on his way up . “Going somewhere?” he drawls, exhaustion making his voice deeper than usual. You shrug, “Couldn’t sleep. There are two buzzsaws in the room next door.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ve had that room before. Can’t say it was the best night of sleep I’ve ever had.” You lived for these little snippets into Joel’s life before you came around, always eager to hear more. But the trek to the house through never-ending sleet and over the turbulent river left you more tired than you had felt in years. Right now all you want is to get where you could pass out immediately. “I’m just gonna make camp on the couch,” you say, stifling a yawn.

Joel shakes his head. “You take my room. The couch is good enough for me.” This man. Hadn’t anyone told him chivalry is dead. You sigh tiredly and beckon for him to come back up the stairs with you. “It’s a big bed. We can share.” There is silence behind you where there should have been footsteps. Joel’s smile disappears as his forehead creases in thought. “Please,” you pout, “I can’t sleep in my room and I won’t get any rest knowing you’re crammed on that dainty little loveseat.”

It takes far more coaxing than it should but finally Joel gives you a little nod and follows you into his - your - room. You gesture to the bed, “Care which side you get?” Joel thinks, then shrugs. “Left is good.” You flop onto the right side, eyes immediately drooping shut. Once again, there is no movement from your companion. Without opening your eyes, you chide him, “If you’re gonna be weird and watch me sleep all night then you can go sleep on the couch.” That got him moving again.

The sound of the shower turning on lulls you to a sleep that is disturbed only when you feel the dip of the bed several minutes later. You watch through barely opened eyes as Joel does a strange shimmy under the covers. It’s clear he’s trying his best not to wake you. The sight makes you laugh softly and his head whips to you.

“Thought you were asleep,” he murmurs.

You hum, “I was. You woke me up.”

It’s meant to be a joke but Joel grimaces. “Sorry.”

The sight is sweet and your heart flips, his frown making him look almost boyish. “It’s ok. It’s your bed.”

As you burrow into your cocoon of blankets, Joel props himself up, a pillow behind his back. He looks from you to the bedside lamp and back again. “You mind if I read for a few minutes?”

That surprises you. In all your time together you had rarely seen Joel do something just for the pleasure of it. There was usually no time. But Bill and Frank’s is a sanctuary and even the hyper-vigilant Joel Miller is able to slow down here. You nod enthusiastically, perking up. “What are you reading?”

It’s like you had asked him what his darkest secret was. He reddens, then finally grabs a book from the table. Pride and Prejudice. He stammers, “It’s just…I never had a lot of time for reading before and this was a favorite of…it was a favorite of somebody I knew.”

“You can read out loud to me if you want,” you offer with a grin. Honestly it was half in jest and half a serious hope. It had been decades since anyone had read aloud to you. Joel, always thinking you were making some sort of fun of him, smirks sarcastically. “Not a chance.”

Your glower slowly melts away at the sight of him putting on his reading glasses and settling in. Silently you curse as you feel your hardened heart crack just the tiniest bit. Idiot that you are, you try to talk yourself out of your own feelings. You aren’t attached to Joel. How could you be? He’s just a handsome, rugged man who keeps you safe and reads Jane Austen in his spare time. Maybe some lesser fool would fall for him but not you. No, sir.

The next morning, you find yourself curled into him, chest pressed against his back and arm draped over his side. Like a bomb diffuser, you carefully try to extricate yourself from the position, every movement slow and precise. Joel, still asleep, lazily grabs your hand, keeping your arm around him. He sighs contentedly as you settle back down and you swear under your breath, nestling your head at the crook of his neck. You are so that lesser fool.

******

The thunderstorms of summer give way to the pleasant days of autumn. Those good days don’t seem to last long enough. You should have appreciated them more while they were there but so is the way of being human.

Winter in Boston isn’t fun. Ok that’s an understatement. It makes you long for the soul-sucking, never-ending Midwestern winters you had lived through for most of your life. There is something about being next to the ocean that makes everything feel colder.

The nights are especially hard, the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls of your apartment. No matter how many blankets you tuck around yourself, your body never truly feels warm. Runs to Bill’s or anywhere outside the QZ become less frequent and more difficult. Only those deemed truly necessary are attempted and even then there is always a long discussion beforehand weighing out the pros and cons.

Runs between the months of November and January are too risky and after much debate, it is decided you three would lay low in the relative safety of the QZ. In the meantime, you’d assess your stockpile, make connections over the radio and wait for the spring thaw. With less food smuggled in from the outside, you decide to put your energy into earning ration cards. Even though no one could argue you don’t pull your weight in the group, you often feel like the weak link. Making sure Tess and Joel have a hot meal every night is the least you could do.

Joel had always told you to stay away from sewer work. It paid double what the other jobs did but at a high risk. Besides not being able to wash the stink off for days, the tunnels under the city were treacherous. Many had gone down there only to be blindsided by a stray clicker or jumped by a loner who made their home away from society up above. Some just got lost in the labyrinth, never to be heard from again. Or at least you had been told. You hoped those were just myths.

You and three other desperate souls are sent down to the sewers with the task of clearing the rubble from a recent cave in. A hard day’s work definitely but you were optimistic that you could get it done in a few hours time and be on your way.

The first few hours go well, the biggest pieces of the concrete being cleared easily enough. Your back aches and callouses quickly form on your palms. But still, all of that you can deal with, mollifying yourself with the thought of the stack of ration cards you’ll proudly gift to Joel and Tess.

Maybe if you hadn’t been daydreaming you would have heard the shouts of your fellow volunteers sooner. Finally coming back to reality, you move just in time to avoid another piece of falling rock. You save yourself from being crushed but lose your footing, coming down hard on your shin.

A stream of bright blood instantly trickles from the gash and you swear as you try to keep the tears that spring to your eyes at bay. Wanting to prove yourself, you brush off your group’s insistence that you go get it checked by the doctor. It doesn’t matter if you complete ninety percent of your shift. You still don’t get your payment if you leave early. So you suck it up for another hour, slogging through the muck as you finish the job. It’s fine, you tell yourself, it’s just a scratch. You’ll wash it off when I get home and be good as new.

With the job done and ration cards tucked away in your pocket, you hobble back towards your apartment. The thought of a shower, as lukewarm as it will be, is the only thing keeping you upright. That is until you feel someone putting your arm around their shoulder. Joel helps you the few blocks to your house, his icy silence hurting you more than the cut that now throbs with every jostle.

It’s only after you get inside and are deposited on the couch that Joel speaks. He rolls up the leg of your jeans, cursing as he sees the already festering wound. “I told you to stay out of the sewers.”

You suck in a pained breath as he starts wiping away the dirt. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Besides, it was worth it,” you pull out the stack of ration cards and present them to him proudly. The sight gives him pause. But the look on his face isn’t one of gratitude, it’s worried exasperation. His signature grimace returns, “It’s not worth it if you lose your leg.” And people claim you’re dramatic.

Pushing him away with a shoo, you rise, limping to the bathroom. “I just need a shower. Then I’ll be right as rain.” As you peel off your now ruined clothes, Joel hovers on the other side of the door. “I can hear you pacing,” you call over the sound of the warming shower.

Even through the almost closed door you can hear Joel sigh. “I just think we should take you to the doc. Make sure you’re alright.” The water hitting you makes you audibly moan, the filth on your body washing down the drain and with it, the memory of the hard day. You appreciate the concern but all you want to do know is forget about the day. You call out to a still pacing Joel, “I’m fine. You worry too much!”

******

It turns out Joel worries the right amount. Of course he does. As eager as you are to forget about your day, it’s not long before you can’t ignore your leg. The wound is an angry red and the area around it has swollen, leaving it tender and throbbing. Thankfully you have Joel there to dress it because, honestly, you can’t stomach the sight of it. These past years have been filled with much blood and gore at your own hands. But there’s something different when it’s your own blood.

In any other circumstance you would have reveled in the feeling of Joel holding your leg so tenderly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wraps the bandage around you. It would have driven you insane seeing him crouched in between your legs as he is now. But at the moment all you can think about is how you much pain you’re in.

You try not to show your discomfort, but your poker face is nonexistent. Joel’s eyes flick up to yours as you slowly exhale, trying to keep calm. Avoidance has always been one of your favorite tactics when dealing with uncomfortable situations so you pipe up, overly perkily, “See? All better. Now about those ration cards, I was thinking for dinner-“

Joel rolls his eyes, standing with a groan, his knees audibly cracking. “The only thing you’re gonna do tonight is rest.”

You slowly turn your body to prop your leg up on a pillow as he watches. Pouting has never worked on Joel but you figure it never hurts to try. “I still have to eat,” you mope.

“You will. I’ll open a can of soup or something.”

The disappointment is real and bubbles to the surface quicker than you realized it would. “I just wanted us all to have a nice dinner. You and Tess do so much and I feel like…” Thinking how you feel is different from saying it out loud and you have to psych yourself up. Joel’s softening gaze helps you continue. “I feel like I’m useless. I just thought this was one thing I could do to really contribute.”

The silence between you feels heavy as you avoid his stare. Finally, he speaks, confusion contorting his features, “Of course you contribute. We wouldn’t have kept you around if you hadn’t.” It’s meant to make you feel better but it doesn’t, especially in your current laid up state.

“So are you going to get rid of me if I’m no longer useful?” you gesture at your leg, feeling your eyes beginning to sting with tears.

Joel sits down next to you. Your fear has made you defiant and you meet his gaze, wanting to fight. But Joel speaks in a soft, level voice, as if teaching a child a lesson. “First of all, you’re going to get better. You just need to be patient. Second, you’re thinking there’s only one kind of way to be useful.”

“I can’t shoot like you two can. I can’t fight. I can’t threaten people into getting what I want. I can go on runs and earn ration cards. That’s it. I’m too soft for anything actually important.”

Joel frowns, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. ‘Being soft’ in a world like this is an act of defiance. It’s brave as hell. What you consider important? I don’t want that for you.”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you observe him. He’s trying so hard to find his next words, to make you believe his truth. “Me and Tess, we let the world harden us more than it needed to. It was easier that way. But having you around reminds us there’s still innocence and good out there.”

The angry tears have turned to ones of gratitude. The sentiment is too much for you, unused to such vulnerability from Joel. You give him a small smile and he returns it, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You’re useful just being you.”

While you still wish you matched Joel and Tess’ levels of badassery, the conversation helps ease your mind. You might not think much of your survival skills but you remind yourself that you’ve stayed alive in a world that wants you dead. Fifteen years you’ve been fighting and surviving and that’s nothing to look down on.

“And for what it’s worth, “ he adds, “you scared the hell out of me the first time we met.”

You grin at him, shocked, “Really?”

He nods, smirking cheekily, “Really. Still do sometimes.”

******

Joel heats up a can of tomato soup for you to share. You try not to think of how old it must be as he prepares it. But actually, it’s not bad, the taste reminding you of your childhood.

It also helps that you’re sharing it with someone you care about. A part of you hates that how easily you’ve let him into your heart. The one thing you swore off all those years ago is now all you can think about as you watch him sitting across from you, ladling out the steaming liquid.

He catches you staring and breaks the silence, “Were you even going to tell me you got hurt today if I hadn’t run into you.” The fuzziness of your feelings for him makes your brain a little mushy and instead of having a grownup conversation, you reply with a childish, “No, I thought I’d let it be a soup-rise.”

Joel rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. You chuckle and continue eating your rapidly cooling dinner. You sober up a bit and add, “The extra ration cards will be good, though. Right?”

He nods, “Yeah. I think it’s soup-er.” His eyes flick up to yours as they crinkle, the only sign that he finds himself amusing.

After dinner, Joel excuses himself to go work his overnight shift. When he leaves and you’re left along, the throbbing in your leg returns with a vengeance along with a mild fever. Your usually chilly apartment now feels stuffy and you have to remove all of your layers except your t-shirt to be even somewhat comfortable.

Worry creeps in as you sit there, alone and increasingly unwell. You long for the company of Joel or Tess, anyone to reassure you that you’re fine. But you’re alone and the dark thoughts creep in, whispering in your ear that whatever is brewing is not good. Unsure of what else to do, you slip in to bed, hoping that whatever this is will be better by morning.

******

You don’t wake for two days. Or at least, you have no real memory of the past 48 hours. Later, when the worst is over, Joel will tell you the details of that lapse in your memory. He’ll recount how you faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes submitting to your fever for so long that he wasn’t sure you were coming back. His voice will waver as he remembers how bad it got and how fragile you looked…

But for now, he stays by your side, foregoing his own health to make sure you stay alive. The first thing you remember is waking up to the sounds of Joel and Tess arguing in hushed tones.

“We need to get her to a doctor. Now.” Joel’s voice sounds strained, like he’s trying desperately not to lose it.

Tess still maintains her signature composure. “We can’t, Joel. It’s too late for that.”

Joel must make some kind of face because Tess sighs and re-words. “It’s too late to take her in because if we bring her to the hospital all they’ll focus on is her fever. They’ve put people down for way less. You know that.”

In your addled state, you wonder who they’re talking about. Your throat hurts to much to speak up though and ask.

“The doc will give us the meds. We’ve bribed him before.”

Tess shakes her head, “Antibiotics are on lockdown. Shipments have been delayed because of the weather. No one gets any without FEDRA knowing. Breaking in guarantees we get caught. We’re no good to her dead. ”

Joel scoffs, “So what do you suggest we do?”

“She rides it out.”

“She’s been ‘riding it out’ for two days. Look at her,” Joel’s voice gets closer as he peers down at you, “she’s fighting but she’s losing.”

Oh. Fever may have taken hold of you, making your brain fuzzy and concentration near impossible, but you understand now that you are the subject of their argument. For Joel to sound so forlorn you must look bad.

If you’re dead soon, you want to let them know to leave it and just let you slip away. Your well-being means nothing if it puts them in unnecessary danger. Rule be damned, they’re your family now and you care about them. If you’re being honest, you’ve cared about them since you met them. It breaks your heart thinking you won’t be able to tell them that now. It nearly kills you right then and there to know you won’t get the chance to tell Joel you love him…

Opening your mouth to articulate all of that takes great effort and when you do try and speak, all that comes out is a strangled groan. The two rush over, Tess sitting down beside you. She takes your hand, an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. Yep, you’re dying.

“You’re ok, kid,” she whispers, “you just have to hang in there.” It would be easy to ignore reality and blindly trust her. But you’ve always been stubborn and so you shake your head and continue trying to speak. Again, nothing comes out but garbled nonsense as you writhe around trying to make your limbs do what your brain wants.

You must look a sight because Joel lets his anger overflow. “Maybe you can sit here and watch her die, but I can’t.”Heavy footsteps and Tess yelling are all that you can focus on as you fade back into oblivion.

******

Living is hard and unconsciousness is addicting. Peaceful and cozy are feelings you can scarcely remember having. It would be easy to stay in that enveloping darkness but the feeling of the back of someone’s hand on your clammy forehead pulls you back to the realm of the living. You grumble weakly as you’re made to come to.

Everything is painful. Stabbing jolts of electricity radiate up your leg from the cut. Your chest is tight, making breathing troublesome and your eyes can barely stand the dim, watery sun coming through the shades of the window. Someone places a damp cloth on your forehead to keep the fever at bay. Still out of it, you try and swat it away.

A gentle hand grabs yours, shushing you. “It’s alright. It’s only me.”

Joel. Maybe you have died and this is heaven. The man you love by your side, nursing you so tenderly. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for. This might be the afterlife believers talk about if only you weren’t in so much pain. The neurons in your brain begin firing more rapidly as your fever dies down. They remind you that you and Joel aren’t lovers. Your cowardice, disguised as intelligence, has kept you from telling him how you feel.

“What’s happening?” Your voice comes out croaky and soft but at least it’s intelligible. The bed dips as Joel moves closer to you. As you peer up through barely opened eyelids you can see him leaning over you. His tired eyes look down at you as he caresses your hair.

“You got real sick, honey. That cut you got festered and turned into a fever. We thought we were gonna lose you.” The slight falter in his voice makes your already tight chest contract.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. We got you some meds, though. You’re gonna be ok.” He says it firmly, which does some good in easing your worry.

Trying to open your eyes a bit more you continue your questioning, “Where did you get the antibiotics from?”

Joel hesitates, “Bill and Frank had some.”

You try and sit up, angry that he made that trip and put himself in danger. Even now, you can see the snow whipping around outside your window. Knowing he made the trek there and back through that storm makes you curse. Joel tuts and puts a gentle hand to your chest, keeping you down and resting.

“It’s done. No use getting angry about it now.”

You glare up at him even though you’re really just upset with yourself. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

His smiles peacefully down at you, exhausted but eyes bright. “We’re a team, remember?”

It’s too much for you to handle. You cover your face just in time to hide the angry, relieved and grateful tears that spring to your eyes. Silent sobs wrack your frame, making you seize with pain.

Joel pulls you into him, shushing you as he resumes stroking your hair. You hide your face in his side, trying to regain your composure. Crying shouldn’t be something you feel the need to earn. But you’re all sorts of broken, so you take this rare opportunity to not judge yourself and weep with abandon. You almost died, for Christ’s sake. Surely that warrants some show of emotion.

After a few minutes, the tears stop and your breathing calms. Peeking up, you see Joel has his eyes closed. His face is the most serene you’ve seen it in ages, most of the worry lines softened. There’s still a few that refuse to relax, though. The crease in between his eyebrows remains stubbornly indented. You gaze up at him as he continues to run soothing patterns along your back.

Feeling the weight of your stare, he opens his eyes. Coward that you are, you glance away. “Thank you,”is all you can mumble out as he gazes at you. After a moment, you add a shy, “I would do the same for you. You know that, right?”

Joel pulls you gently into him, almost to remind himself you’re still here with him and that the danger has passed. He nuzzles into your hair, murmuring an affectionate“I know, honey. I know.”

******

After a few more hours and another dose of antibiotics, you begin to feel more like yourself. Joel still won’t let you get out of bed yet, except for a trip to the bathroom for a quick shower. Even though you’ve been dead to the world for much of your ordeal, you’re quickly getting bored with bed rest. But you’ve learned long ago that resistance is futile with Joel. So you shower like a good patient, scowling as the water hits your scabbing cut.

Once you finish, Joel hops in and washes the grime and worry of the past three days off. As you settle back in bed, you can hear him singing softly to himself. Through the patter of the water you can hear his soft rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird. It’s one of your favorites, too, and you hum along as you settle back into your pillow.

After a few minutes, sleep still won’t come. You toss and turn as Joel finishes getting ready for bed. He comes in to find you still awake. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.” He says it like a loving mother gently scolding their rebellious child.

You flail as you try and get comfortable. You shoot back a moody, “But I’m just not tired.” Joel chuckles as he sits down into the arm chair next to your bed. He smooths back his wet hair and gives you a faux stern look. “Your body’s been through a lot. You need rest.”

“What are you doing?” you ask.

Joel looks confused, wondering what he did wrong. “Sorry I just thought I’d sleep here tonight in case you need anything. I can leave, though.”

“No!” you yell out, completely abandoning any hope of looking cool. You give him an apologetic smile, “I want you to stay but you’re not sleeping in that chair one more night.”

Joel glances to the spot on the bed beside you, then looks to you for confirmation. He sighs, a smile playing at his lips. “If I stay will you promise to go to sleep?”

You nod very seriously. “Of course.”

Joel grins, knowing you too well to believe you. “Liar,” he chuckles but still gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed. You pull back the blankets so can get in, then cover him up. Settling on your side, you watch as he suddenly looks lost, unsure of what to do now. It’s cute, this powerful man rendered helpless by something as innocuous as sharing a bed.

You can’t help but laugh at him and he looks down at you, eyes wide. Taking pity on him, you make a suggestion. “If you’re not tired you could read to me.” Joel opens his mouth to refuse but you blurt out a quick, “I did almost die, you know.” He glares at you but his lip quirks up. He grabs the book from the other room then flops back down in bed, opening to a spot in the middle.

Frowning, you reach out to touch Joel’s arm. “Do you mind starting from the beginning?” He rolls his eyes but flips back to the first page. You grin triumphantly as you settle into his side. Joel places his arm around your shoulder as he begins to read. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…”

His southern drawl mixed with the Romantic Era style of writing makes for an amusing but pleasant combination. After a few chapters, your eyes get heavy and Joel feels you nodding off against him. Jane has just been invited to Netherfield Park but even that can’t keep you awake. Joel puts the bookmark in to save your spot and places the novel on your bedside table.

You grumble in weak protest as he tucks you in and turns off the light. “We can keep reading tomorrow. But right now you’re going to sleep.” Joel lies down beside you and with the pale light of the moon through your curtains you can see him studying you. He caresses your face and you close your eyes, delighting in the sensation.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispers.

You force your eyes open, needing him to see the truth of it when you pledge a soft,“I won’t. I mean it.”

Joel nods gratefully and you reach out for him. He slides into your arms and you rest your chin on the top of his head. He’s watched over you for long enough. It’s your turn to take care of him and reassure him that, in this moment, you both are safe.

For most, an outright admission of affection is needed to understand how you feel about the other person. But you and Joel are cut from the same cloth, stubborn and slow to reveal your feelings. In this world, for people like you, ’I love yous’ are rare and replaced with actions and deeds.

You realize that even though you've never told Joel that you love him, you’ve shown it. Joel has been showing you all this time too and you were just too dull to realize it. While you know you’ll long to say the words to him soon, for now it’s enough to have him in your arms.

Joel’s breathing deepens and you feel him completely give himself over to sleep. Looking at his face bathed in the moonlight he looks like a new man. His edges soften and his vulnerability brims to the surface. It tugs at your heart and you understand how rare of a sight this is for Joel to allow anyone to see.

Smiling sleepily, you close your eyes and nestle into him. This feeling coursing through you is something foreign but familiar, an old friend you thought you had said your final goodbye to long ago. The love you have for Joel will leave you vulnerable. But it’s a price you’re willing to pay a thousand times over.

******

#im on a mission to make joel as soft as possible lol #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal #allie writes

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laundrybiscuits · 1 year

Text

Eddie’s doing some dumb trick with a couple of wooden spoons, clever hands making them move through the air in improbable ways, and Steve’s about to bite his whisk in half.

He’d thought for sure that Eddie would be going home the first week; Edward Munson, 29, bartender/musician from Brighton with mismatched tattoos and wild hair, seemed like exactly the kind of pretentious asshole who would flame out early with some ill-advised hipster experimentation. If Steve (28, social worker from Indiana, USA) had been a complete asshole, he’d have said that Eddie didn’t have the fundamentals. That he was all sizzle, no steak.

It’s a good thing Steve’s not a complete asshole, because Eddie’s been blowing the technicals out of the water so consistently it’s actually pretty fucking embarrassing. His signatures and showstoppers are making a very respectable showing too, except for the time he tried to incorporate some fresh pandan extract and fucked up the liquid ratio, leaving him with a dripping mess that Mary’d declined to even try.

Afterwards, Steve had seen him leaning against a tree and struggling to light a cigarette. Steve went over for no particular reason, flicking on his lighter and holding it out like a peace offering. Eddie looked at him warily, but bent over the offered flame.

“Can’t believe I made it through this one,” Eddie said after a moment, white smoke curling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I feel like that every week.” Steve leaned against the tree next to Eddie. It was a big tree, the kind that’s probably been growing in this field since before England was even England.

“Nah, but—c’mon, you know what I mean.”

“You had some bad luck with your showstopper. Happens to the best of us, man. Your signature hand pies looked sick as hell.” Steve’s own hand pies had turned out pretty well, so he was feeling generous. It had only been the third week; plenty of time for Steve to snag Star Baker, though even by that point, Steve had been getting the creeping feeling that he was being a little too American about the whole thing. Everyone else seemed to think competitiveness was some kind of deadly sin. It was—actually kind of nice, to get the same kind of nerves he’d always gotten before high school basketball games, but know that he wasn’t really fighting against anyone except himself in the tent.

Anyway, the very next week, Eddie had done some kind of kickass gothic castle with a shiny chocolate dragon and gotten Star Baker for the second time. Steve had clapped him on the back, appropriately manly. Eddie had pulled Steve into a real hug, arms tight around Steve’s shoulders and his whole lean body pressed up close and warm. It had only lasted a moment, and then Eddie had bounded over to Mel and Sue, both of whom he’s been thoroughly charming since the get-go.

Steve thinks that when this season—or, uh, series—airs, no matter where Eddie places, the entire country is going to be just as charmed. Eddie’s going to get whatever kind of cookbook deal or streaming show he wants. Sponsors will take one look at that handsome face and charismatic grin, and a whole world of possibilities is going to open up for Eddie.

Steve’s not in it for any of that, of course. He’s here kind of by accident, because Robin pushed him to apply, and it’s a goddamn miracle he’s been holding his own. Hell, it’s a miracle he’s in this country at all. When Robin had started looking at the Cambridge MPhil program in linguistics, she’d said wouldn’t it be great if and he’d snorted, yeah right, like I could ever get whatever job I’d need to move to another freaking country, but then—well. Things had happened the way they’d happened, and now Robin’s almost finished with her degree and Steve is taking time off from the London charity he works at in order to be on Bake Off.

He’s told all this to the cameras, plus the stuff about how baking started as a way for him to connect with the kids he used to babysit in Indiana, blah blah blah. He thinks it’s probably too boring for them to air, but he gets that they have to try to get a story anyway.

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, is probably going to be featured in all the series promos. Steve is rabidly curious about what Eddie’s story is, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to just ask. It should be the easiest thing in the world. They’ve got kind of a camaraderie going, the two of them; a bit of a bromance, as Mel’s put it more than once.

It’s true they get along pretty well, and the cameras have been picking up on it: on the way Eddie’ll wander over to Steve’s bench like a stray cat whenever they get some downtime, how they wind up horsing around sometimes, working off leftover adrenaline from the frantic rush of caramelization or whatever. There’s the time Eddie had hopped up on a stool to deliver some kind of speech from Macbeth, of all things, and overbalanced right onto Steve, who had barely managed to keep them both from careening into a stand mixer. Sue had patted Eddie on the shoulder and said, “Well, boys, that’ll be going in the episode for sure.”

They both get along with the other contestants just fine, of course, but they’re two guys of about the same age with no wife and kids waiting at home. It’s only natural that they’re gravitating together, becoming something like friends, Steve figures. It’s pretty great that he’s getting at least one real friend out of this whole thing.

It would be even greater if Steve could stop thinking about Eddie’s hands in decidedly non-friendly ways. With all the paperwork he’s signed, he can’t even complain to Robin about how Eddie looks with his sleeves pushed up to show off the tattoos on his forearms, kneading dough and grunting a little under his breath with effort. Steve had almost forgotten to pre-heat his oven that day.

Two benches away, Eddie fumbles the spoons he’s been juggling with a clatter, and he bursts out laughing, glancing over at Steve like Steve’s in on the joke. Steve grins back, heart twanging painfully in his chest, and thinks: well, fuck. Guess this is happening.

#this is a TRULY bonkers AU like wtf even is the venn diagram of steddie fans and people who exclusively like the BBC GBBO #I know nothing about the process of creating reality tv so I most likely will not be continuing this #(plus ST is just so intrinsically American to me)#but I saw the GBBO musical last week and that's what prompted this little abomination #steddie #GBBO AU #ETA: ftr I rated the GBBO musical 2.5/5. I have a colour-coded spreadsheet.#decent songwriting & solid performances but the emotional beats/pacing were all over the place and it did some weird revisionist callbacks #plus the level of assumed thirst for not!Paul Hollywood was wildly off-putting to me #a person who finds neither his personality nor his appearance in any way attractive #anyway I paid £15 for my ticket and that felt right to me. I will see literally any show for £15.

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goldengleams · 6 months

Text

game winner | ethan edwards

In which Ethan scores the game winner and wants to celebrate with you.

Based on this request: hi!!! how about something fluffy for ethan edwards? maybe like he’s being clingy after a game and the guys are making fun of you both

____________________________________________

hi!!! how about something fluffy for ethan edwards? maybe like he’s being clingy after a game and the guys are making fun of you both

The Michigan hockey team had won yet another game, this one being a thriller with a shootout. You had watched from the stands at Yost with all of your friends while cheering on the boys.

When Ethan had scored the winning goal, the whole arena had erupted in excited cheers. Even from the stands, you could see his big smile as his teammates crowded around him.

“That’s your boy!” Your best friend yelled next to you, shaking your arm. You laughed as she jumped up and down.

After dating Ethan for a while, you knew how talented he was, never doubting his athletic ability. Even though hockey was a world you weren’t familiar with, Ethan made sure to always include you with his friends and even tried to teach you how to skate. His friends quickly became your friends, too, and soon enough, you felt like a part of the group. You were closest with Mark and Luca since you had been in a class with each of them, but Ethan’s other teammates still cared about you just as much.

“I’m gonna wait for E to come out with the guys,” you called to her over the crowd. Your best friend was putting on her coat and already making plans to go out which you had declined in favor of seeing Ethan.

“Okay, Y/N! You going back to Ethan’s?” She asked.

You nodded, laughing to yourself about another night of cuddling in already too-small bed. While you always let out a few weak complaints, you never truly meant them. Cuddling with Ethan, especially when you could get the room to yourselves, was always a fun time.

You gave your best friend a hug and she climbed up the steps. You went the other way, knowing where to meet the guys after they went to the locker room and got ready to leave.

Absentmindedly, you scrolled through TikTok. There were already highlights of the game circulating with Ethan’s winning goal as the most exciting moment of the game. You smiled as you read the comments praising Ethan and the rest of the hockey team.

A few minutes later, you heard the door opening and saw Luca and Adam walking out. Both stopped to give you a hug, but Adam quickly said goodbye so he could meet up with his girlfriend.

Luca opted to stay with you, chatting about the game and the upcoming test in your class.

“You guys played awesome tonight,” you said, and Luca thanked you. Ethan was definitely the star of the night, but you knew that the other boys were still just as important.

“Ethan should be out soon, once he’s done soaking up the praise,” Luca teased. Luca had introduced you to Ethan when you were working on a group project last semester and you two had been inseparable ever since.

“I just texted him that you’re out here, he’ll come running out when he knows his shadow is waiting,” Luca said. You quickly smacked his chest in response and he let out a meek groan.

“I learned how to chirp from Ethan, so watch it, Luca,” you laughed. You both knew Ethan liked to soak in the post-game atmosphere, especially after a close win.

After a few minutes, you heard the door open again and watched a steady stream of boys walk out. You couldn’t see Ethan at first, but then you heard that familiar laugh and saw his hair flowing as his head was thrown back. Just the sight of him made you weak in the knees, and you couldn’t help but feel the adrenaline rushing through you.

You pushed away from the wall where you were leaning and stood up straight, practically bouncing on your toes with excitement.

You were about to call Ethan’s name when he looked up and you locked eyes. He rushed over to give you a hug. Ethan was squeezing you hard but it didn’t matter, it felt like you two were the only ones in the world.

“I’m so proud of you, Ethan,” you mumbled into his chest. He pulled away from you and planted a kiss on your lips, hand finding the back of your neck to guide you to him.

“That’s all I need to hear,” he muttered against your lips. You were aware that the two of you were standing right in the middle of the hallway with Ethan’s bag blocking more space, but you really couldn’t care less. Ethan and you were pretty affectionate in public and the guys were used to it.

It never stopped the teasing, though.

“Oh my god, I’m literally about to witness the creation of a child,” you heard from a familiar voice. Rutger made a gagging noise which set the whole group off into laughter.

“Let them live, Rutger,” you heard Nolan say.

“I’d like to live without seeing my two friends stick their tongues down each other’s throats,” he called back.

“I second that!” Mark said as he started to walk past the two of you.

You pulled away once he said that, realizing that you were getting a little too comfortable in the locker room hallway. Ethan whined at your movement, pulling you into another hug.

“Come over to my room?” Ethan asked.

“I was already planning on it,” you answered, smiling up at Ethan’s face.

“You guys are gross,” Rutger said in a sing-song voice.

“This is why you’re single and I have the best girlfriend ever, Rut,” Ethan said shamelessly. You hid your face to suppress your laugh but you heard the other boys laughing and agreeing anyways.

You wiggled out of Ethan’s grasp to give a few of the other boys a hug. Dylan was the last to walk past the two of you, offering you both a smirk.

“Uh oh, Y/N, Eddy’s clingy tonight,” Dylan joked. “Looks like you have a whiny winner on your hands.”

“I think I can manage,” you said.

“I’d like him returned to us by Sunday at midnight, no later or you’ll both be grounded,” Dylan said and you both laughed.

“You have my word, Mr. Duke,” you promised. Once Dylan left, it was only you and Ethan left in the hallway. He looked like a tired puppy with his hair falling in front of his eyes.

“You played awesome, babe,” you whispered. “Can’t believe I’m dating the best player on the team.”

Ethan gave you a big smile and said thank you. He was always so humble about his accomplishments that you made sure you gave him praise as much as you could.

“Ready to head out?” You asked.

“And ready to cuddle and watch a movie and eat some good snacks,” he said as he grabbed his bag to start walking. He kept rambling about what movie to watch as you walked out of the arena. Ethan was a big softie who just loved to spend quality time together, which you adored.

“But I’m most excited just to be with you, Y/N,” Ethan said, making you weak in the knees yet again. You took his hand and followed him out, feeling like the luckiest girl ever.

____________________________________________

I finally wrote something after surviving midterm week at college!! I'm on break now so hopefully more will be coming :)) enjoy!

#ethan edwards #michigan hockey #umich imagine #umich boys #umich hockey #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards imagine

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kimi240302 · 11 months

Text

Daylight

A/N: Before you read this story, be aware I am from Germany and can't write a bit of English. That's why I'm sending this through an app that translates it for me.

A/N2.0: In this story, the characters are all a little older.

Summary: Y/N Swan tries everything to keep her promise to stay away from Demetri Volturi. But can you stay away from the man fate bound you to?

Demetri Volturi x Female!Swan!reader

Words: 2,8

Part 1 of Daylight Masterlist

Main Post / Twilight Masterlist / Request list / Playlist

18+ I am new to the whole smut writing so please be nice

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“ You and I drink the poison from the same vine Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time Hidin´ all of our sins from the daylight” - David Kushner

"You have to promise me that Y/N." Bella looked at her younger sister with piercing eyes. However, the latter did not understand what her older sister and the Cullens family had. Confused, the young girl looked up from her place on the couch. "Why should I promise you to stay away from Demetri Volturi? I don't even really know this man?" "Y/N..." Carlisle began, but Bella interrupted him. "The less she knows, the better it is for her!" Y/N jumped up angrily. "Tell me Bella are you kidding me?! I didn't know anything when you dragged me to Italy with you. I didn't know there were vampires or people who could turn into giant wolves. I was normal, I was happy." The young girl stopped, took one deep breath and wrapped her arms around herself. "Now I'm scared of what lies ahead, being bound to a vampire who is apparently the villain for you? But instead of explaining everything to me, I'm supposed to bluntly forget what I've seen, heard and felt because it's easier for you and your oh-so-great Cullens? You want me to make a promise I don't even understand just because you don't like the Volturi?" Y/N took another deep breath. Her vision blurred from tears she wasn't ready to let Bella see. "Let me tell you something Bella, I don't like Edward either. Yet I'm not telling you to stay away from him or how to live your life!" Y/N turned on her heel and left the Cullens' living room, leaving the entire family in stunned disbelief.

"She's right." Carlisle was the first to find his voice again. "Y/N has been through a lot the last few days. We should have explained everything to her calmly first and then..." "And then what? Demetri Volturi won't leave her alone. Not when she's his mate." Rosalie looked at everyone around once, her gaze stopping on Bella. "You pushed her into this world, now you can't just kick her out. That's not how it works." "I'm just trying to protect her!" Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "Then you shouldn't have taken her with you." Esme looked at Rosalie warningly. "What happened can't be undone. Blaming each other doesn't change that anymore." The vampire turned to her husband, placing a hand on his arm as she did so. "You should talk to Y/N, after all, you know the Volturi best." Slowly he nodded, "But not today. Y/N needs to process what all happened from today first."

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Humming to herself, Y/N was just turning around in the kitchen of her home to get to the fridge when, out of nowhere, Carlisle stood in front of her. "Jesus Christ! Do you have to scare me like that!" Amused, the blond-haired man looked at Y/N. "Sorry. I forget sometimes that not everyone, can hear everything that's going on around them." Nodding, Y/N looked at Carlisle, which turned into an uncomfortable silence that the young girl was the first to break. Sighing, Y/N let herself sink down on the chair in the kitchen and looked at Carlisle. "My father isn't here." "We both know I'm not here for your father Y/N." He lowered himself to the chair across from her. The latter tensed slightly. Reassuringly, Carlisle placed his cold hand on the young girl's. "I'm here to give you an idea of why Bella and my family want you to keep your distance from Demetri and the rest of the Volturi." Y/N just nodded and looked at Carlisle tensely. "You should know that the Volturi clan that Demetri belongs to are kind of like our supreme ones. They rule over the species of vampires and have done so for a very long time. Led by the three kings you met in Italy. Aro the head one, he can see everything you think, what you have experienced or what you have planned with one touch. He can be very overwhelming. But I think you have already witnessed this. He's occasionally..." Carlisle searched for the right words, but Y/N filled the void for him. "Extreme when you're not used to it?" Carlisle smiled, nodding as he did so. "Aro is extreme when it comes to enforcing the rules and can get too brutal in the process. But Caius is the one who has the most fun punishing those who have done wrong in his eyes." "What is his ability?" "He has none, other than his viciousness, he is simply loyal to Aro. Marcus, on the other hand, is the calmest of the three. His passion for life was taken from him when his wife was killed. His ability is to see the relationships between individuals." Y/N nodded. "And what does that have to do with Demetri?" Carlisle sat up a little straighter. "Demetri is part of the Kings' main guards with Felix, Jane and Alec. They do jobs and make sure no one can overthrow the Volturi. They do that by wiping out entire clans or individuals." "So he's an murderer?" Carlisle winced briefly. He hadn't expected Y/N to answer so directly with such a neutral expression on her face. "You can look at it that way, yes. But the main reason Bella wants you to stay away is because the Volturi feed on human blood. They don't see humans as equals, they just see them as something to feed on. Bella...we're all worried that Aro will see you as a threat to Demetri's loyalty and will have you killed."

Y/N let herself sink against the back of the chair with drooping shoulders. Several minutes of silence passed until the young girl cleared her throat. "Marcus lost his wife and became sad, absent and quiet after that?" Confused, Carlisle nodded and was about to ask why, but Y/N kept talking. "Was she his mate?" Again Carlisle nodded. "Is this what happens to vampires when they find their mate and can't be with them?" Carlisle was startled by these thoughts. "I don't know. But I suspect this may lead to that." Y/N looked closely at the man in front of her. "Then you must really hate the Volturi if you wish such a fate for Demetri."

"Y/N..." Bella stood in the kitchen doorway. "I just want what's best for you." Defeated, the young girl looked down at her hands, which she had folded in her lap. "I won't say I understand this whole vampire thing, or if I even really want to understand it. But I do know that I don't necessarily want to be dragged into the middle of this whole thing. The Volturi thing is your thing, not mine and even if you think that the visit to Italy has dragged me into it, you are wrong. I have my life and I will live it how I want." Bella and Carlisle both wanted to say something, but Y/N's raised hand stopped them. "I will promise you Bella and the Cullens that I will do my best to stay away from Demetri." Bella smiled at her. "As long as you're here in Forks, nothing will happen to you. We'll all make sure of that." Y/N twisted her mouth into a pained smile. "There's something you should know. Our father already knows, and he supports me completely in this. I'm moving to Seattle next week." "What are you going to do there, and by yourself? Does mom know about this?" "I got a school offer, which I can't refuse. Mom was the one who helped me to fill out and get everything I needed for it. I'm going to start packing today." "Y/N you can't just leave now" Bella spread her arms, setting to say more. But Y/N simply got up to leave the room. "You willingly entered the world of the supernatural. I didn't, that's what you decided for me, and now I'm deciding for me to leave."

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"Are you settling in okay?" Y/N set her phone down on her desk and saw Bella making herself comfortable on her bed. "Bella I've been gone for six months. I almost feel like I'm home already." Bella laughed. "I still can't believe my younger sister is the first of us to live alone." Smiling, Y/N looked around her one-bedroom apartment. It wasn't much, however it was nice and big and cozy. Everything she needed to get by on her own. "Now tell me what is Seattle like and your school?"

Y/N's face was barely noticeably twisted as she began to talk about her school. She loved Seattle and the people she had made friends with. They helped Y/N get out of herself and enjoy her life like the young girl never had before. But the feeling of constantly having eyes on her didn't leave her. As if someone was constantly in her shadows. Several times, she could swear she thought she saw Demetri Volturi. The first time, Y/N was sitting in a café with friends, relaxing after a long day at school. The second time was at the library and the last was at a club where she had gone to celebrate a Friday with her class. However, she did not tell Bella about it. She didn't want her to worry or make up anything so that her parents would send Y/N back to Forks. Because she was sure her sister would go to such lengths to keep an eye on her. Especially now that Bella had calmed down a bit when it came to the subject of Demetri Volturi.

"Damn!" Y/N looked around at her desk, "What's wrong?" Bella looked at her sister with concern. The latter, annoyed with herself, just shook her head. "I have to turn in this homework tomorrow, and the book I need to do these assignments is in my locker at school." "Then just ask for more time." Y/N shook her head. "I can't, but the library is still open and I know they need to have that book there." "Be careful, will you?" "I always am Bella!" The addressed raised an eyebrow and was about to say something, but Y/N pointed her index finger at her sister, "People who jump off cliffs voluntarily should be quiet!" Defensively, Bella raised her hands. "I'm not saying anything anyway!" "Better that way."

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Y/N shakily rubbed her hands together as she walked down the street. Seattle was cloudy as the smell of a coming rain worked its way to the surface. The shivering came, but not only from the cold air, but also because of the renewed feeling of being watched. Discreetly, she turned her head from right to left. But she could not see anything that seemed strange to her. Shrugging her shoulders, Y/N looked for her headphones in her bag and put them in her ears, hoping to get rid of the feeling as quickly as possible. In the library she asked directly at the entrance if the book she needed was really here and was relieved when the librarian said that the book was in the back of the library.

Again with her headphones in her ears, Y/N walked past the many bookshelves. Every now and then she let her fingers glide over the various book spines, while she hummed softly along to the melody. The shadow that followed her stayed out of the young girl's thoughts. Nor did she notice him standing almost directly behind her as she stopped in front of one of the shelves, her eyes roaming over the various book spines. Annoyed, Y/N pulled a frown from her face. The book she needed was on the top shelf. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached for the black leather book, but only her fingertips touched the spine. With a sigh, she stood back up properly and was about to turn around to go back to the front to ask for a stool or other help.

Y/N froze, however, when a body came up directly behind her, or rather when the upper body of a stranger nestled directly against her back and she saw a pale hand reaching for the book. Startled, Y/N pushed the air out of her lungs and turned around. At the quickness of her turn, her headphones fell to the floor and rolled away in different directions. But the young girl no longer cared, because when she looked up, Y/N saw into a pair of red eyes. Demetri Volturi stood not two inches from Y/N, looking down at the young Swan. A smile had settled on his lips, which was more akin to a Predator having his prey where he wanted it than pure friendliness.

"Demetri..." Y/N sounded breathless, which only made the vampire smile wider. "Good evening mon amour. Is this what you needed?" Demetri ignored her questioning look and held the book between them, but Y/N didn't even notice it. She was too distracted by his closeness and his eyes. "What are you doing here?" The blond-haired vampire tilted his head slightly. His smile softened as he lifted his left hand, the one not holding the book, to brush a stray strand behind Y/N's ear. "I came to check on you." Unwillingly, Y/N closed her eyes as Demetri slid his cold fingers back over her cheek. Instantly, goosebumps spread all over her body as she leaned a little further into his touch. Y/N couldn't help it, it was almost as if something was pulling her towards Demetri.

"This isn't your first time here, is it?" Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open. Slightly, Demetri shook his head. His hand lingered on his mate's cheek. "You've just never been alone." Absently, Demetri placed the book, behind Y/N on the shelf. His hand he placed as a support on the edge of just that. In this way he enclosed Y/N and at the same time came even closer to her. His lips were just above hers. "Demetri, what are you doing?" Panic slowly spread through Y/N. Her hands went to his chest, where she tried to push him away. But Demetri just stopped, no matter what Y/N was trying to do. When the vampire put his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, she gave up. Y/N curled her fingers into Demetri's jacket and studied him. His left hand rested on her waist while he slightly strengthened the grip of his right hand on the shelf, making the wood creak in protest.

"I tried to stay away from you after I overheard your conversation with Bella. After I listened to you promise her to stay away from me." Demetri stopped. Still with his eyes closed, he moved his forehead away from hers. He tilted his face slightly forward so that his lips were only millimeters from hers. Y/N drew in a sharp breath as Demetri let his lips move further over her skin to her cheek, to her neck. There he found her pulse point and placed a kiss directly on it.

Y/N's eyes widened in shock as her fingers clawed tighter into his jacket. "Demetri?" Her voice trembled. "Don't do this, please!" Now the young girl sounded tormented. Demetri released his lips from her neck and looked at Y/N again. "Admit it Cheri, you were thinking of me as much as I was thinking of you. Of my hands on your waist, my voice close to your ear, like in Volterra when I finally found you." Again she closed her eyes, almost as if it caused her pain to admit this simple truth.

Y/N still remembered clearly the day she met Demetri Volturi for the first time. His arms wrapped around her so that he could better protect her. The way he had whispered in her ear that she shouldn't be afraid because he would keep her safe. The way he didn't let go of her until he was sure the danger was over. Nor had she forgotten the feeling of safety and security that Demetri had triggered in her.

"Tell me you haven't thought about me for a second and I'll let you go. You won't see me again." Demetri came closer to her lips again. Y/N opened her mouth to tell him to leave, but nothing came out. So she closed it again. Because the truth was, she hadn't stopped thinking about him. Demetri released his right hand from the shelf and let it wander to the back of Y/N's neck. He pulled her a little closer to him. Prevented her from looking away. "Say it!" He challenged her, his eyes falling on Y/N's lips. "Tell me you hate me!" "I can't." Demetri's eyes settled on hers again. He saw the confusion and at the same time the craving he himself felt when he was near Y/N. Demetri broke eye contact, lifted his lips to Y/N's forehead and placed a lingering kiss there. When he released his lips from her skin, he lowered them to her ear. "How long can you hide your sins from the daylight?"

Confused, Y/N wanted to know what Demetri meant by that, but in the next moment he was gone and so was the feeling of his closeness.

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A/N3.0: Please let me know how it was and if you want a second part?

@hc-geralt-23

#demetri volturi #demetri volturi imagine #twilight x reader #demetri x reader #demetri volturi x reader #demetri volturi x y/n #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight fanfiction #twilight masterlist #twilight x y/n #the volturi #volturi x reader

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kiiwiigii · 8 months

Text

Abandoned

Demetri x Fem!Reader

Summary: Going to Italy over spring break was not what you had in mind, but Bella said she needed you. Until she didn't anymore, leaving you in the hands of a handsome vampire, who happens to be your mate.

Warnings:

Angst

Bella and the Cullens suck. (Ha ha. I'm so funny.)

Word Count: 1500+

Requested?: Yes!

heya thanks for answering my earlier ask about requests! Could I please request a demetri x reader angsty with fluff where they meet in new moon as reader tags along with bella to help and demtri is drawn to her cause theyre mates and volturi agree to let bella go and be turned later if the reader stays and reader is hurt that edward, bella and even alice agree to it so quickly so she feels abandoned and demetri works to earn her trust and comforts her about it at a later date? (If its too much or you end up tweaking it thats okay!!) <3

A/N: What kind of Volturi fic writer would I didn't do this trope? And for once it's not Alec-centric. I love it! Also, this is gonna be a two-parter.

I hated flying with a burning passion. But Bella insisted that I go with her for emotional support. I almost snapped at her to take Jacob instead. Emotional support animals were free after all. She just needed the paperwork.

Unfortunately, I don't think a big-ass werewolf-slash-shapeshifter would go over well if they were to accidentally transform. Bella was lucky that I even had a passport. In the end, it was Alice who convinced me, definitely playing the loyalty card pretty heavily. If only I had known that loyalty was not extended to me.

Italy was beautiful, but between the sweet relief of landing, Alice stealing a car, and getting caught up in the whirlwind that was the St. Marcus festival, I had barely any time to take it all in. The city was awash with hundreds of people, their red cloaks swirling about as they danced and celebrated.

Bella was diving out the car, screaming Edward's name. I dove into the crowds to follow her, making my way through the throngs of red cloaks to find her. It didn't take long before I was hopelessly lost. What had Alice said? Edward was going to reveal himself. What exactly would happen if he did? That was one thing I had never managed to get out of Bella.

Would he just… spontaneously combust?

No. That made no sense, he never would have come to the Volturi for death if that happened.

But where was the best place to do it?

I looked around desperately before my eyes landed on the clock tower in the center of the square. There. That was the prefect place. I pushed through the crowds, yelling Bella's name at the top of my lungs.

Demetri

"BELLA!"

He turned at the sound, and his dead heart seemed to beat for just a moment. Her voice sounded like heaven. Demetri scanned the square, eyes searching, desperate with hope that maybe, just maybe, she might be who he thought she was.

"Bella!'

It was closer this time, and through a break in the crowds he saw her. Time seemed to slow down as he took in the sight of her. She was by the clock tower, her chest rising and falling with the effort to breathe, as if she had just run a long distance. And given the beads of sweat along her brow and the trickles that dripped down her tantalizing neck, she had.

She was stunning. Beautiful. And more than everything that he had ever hoped for.

The other girl in front of him, Bella, turned around in both alarm and relief.

"Bella," Edward said softly. "Relax. He won't harm her."

"Demetri?" Felix asked, voice heavy with confusion.

"Stay with our… guests, Felix."

Demetri was next to the girl in the blink of an eye, stepping into her line of sight a moment later. She jerked back in alarm before making eye contact with him. And it happened. His whole world seemed to turn upside down. He grinned. She was his.

"Hello, principessa." He lifted her warm hands to his cold lips, enjoying the subtle taste of her skin. "I am Demetri. I will escort you to your friends. If you will follow me."

She raised a disbelieving brow at him, taking him in before landing on his eyes. She gulped a little and nodded her head. He held out his arm for her to take, and after a moments hesitation, she did so.

Upon arriving at the alleyway in which the others stood, his mate let go and hugged Bella tightly.

"You're alright." She breathed, her perfect voice hushed.

"I'm alright, Y/N."

"Good to have you back." It was Jane. "Aro has been wondering what has been taking so long. Let us continue."

He put a hand on his mates back, urging her forward silently.

Demetri found that he no longer cared what would happen with Cullen and his human, not so long as his mate stayed.

I was a moron.

Despite the seriously fucked up and dangerous situation that Bella had somehow pulled me into, I couldn’t help but blush as I felt this stranger's hand on my lower back.

'Demetri. His name is Demetri, Y/N.'

The gesture felt oddly warm and comforting. He felt oddly warm and comforting.

And I liked it. But also I didn't like it. He was making me feel all funny and I honestly didn't know what to do about it.

I glanced back at him, only to find him already looking at me, something akin to wonder in his eyes. He gave me a small smile and I turned back around, blushing harder. I liked that smile. A lot. I shook my head, following behind Edward and Bella, doing my best to not trip.

I had bigger things to worry about. Such as getting out of this situation alive. Alice had neglected to tell me much of anything, and I had only caught snippets of her conversation with Bella on the plane. All I knew was that the Volturi laid down the law, and they were not to be fucked with. I suddenly wished I had paid more attention instead of worrying about the death trap that was called a plane.

I grabbed Alice's hand, my anxiety spiking. She gave my hand a small squeeze, sending me another smile. But something was off. She wouldn't look me in the eye. In fact I couldn't recall her looking me in the eye since we had boarded the plane to Italy. And outside of his initial surprise to see me, neither had Edward. I frowned at the sudden realization, slowing down a moment and pulling my hand from hers. Demetri slowed down as well, gently pressing on my back for me to continue, but I stayed rooted in the spot.

"What are you hiding?" My voice cracked. "What did you see?"

Alice looked back at me, surprised.

"Now is not the time, Y/N." Demetri's lips brushed against my ear.

I really liked the way he said my name.

"Indeed." Jane turned around, her face blank.

Demetri tensed, angling himself so that I was out of Jane's eyesight.

"Do not worry, Demetri. I have no intent to harm your mate... As long as she keeps up."

She was so blasé about the whole thing that it took a minute for me to register what she said. Mate? I had a mate? Mates were a thing?

Demetri hissed at her and everyone edged away from the two of them, looking at Demetri as if he were a dead man. Jane just smiled.

"Let us continue. Demetri, do keep your human in line."

I wondered if my brain had just stopped working at that point because I would have normally said something back, but I couldn't bring myself to do much of anything. Demetri turned back around, looking at me as one would a spooked animal. And I was pretty close to a spooked animal. I was starting to hyperventilate, and I definitely wanted to run, but I couldn't get my legs to work.

"Y/N." He reached out, clasping both of my arms lightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to find out this way, but we really must keep going."

I nodded, numb. Alice knew. How long had she known? And Edward hadn't bothered to say a damn thing to me either. Why? They couldn't bother to prepare me for this? I have a fucking mate. That's not something you can just shove under the rug. And Jane. Fucking Jane-

Demetri's hand slid into my own, the coolness of his skin breaking me out of my haze just enough to keep moving forward. I could feel myself beginning to shut down and disassociate, auto-pilot taking over. I could feel his thumb rubbing circles softly on the palm of my hand and decided to focus on that instead.

Jane pushed the heavy double doors in front of us open.

My brain refused to shut off, memories of the last 24 hours replaying repeatedly in my head.

Bella had been released under two conditions:

She was to be turned within the year.

I was to stay here, to be with my mate.

I didn't have a choice, not that it really mattered, because I would have given myself up in a heartbeat for Bella. But they had taken the deal with barely a thought. Even Bella. That's when I realized that she knew. She had known the whole time. And Alice. I kept thinking about how she had worked so hard to convince me to come. To be Bella's emotional support. I wasn't there to be her emotional support. I was there to be traded, like some dog. And it hurt.

I had lost everything.

My friends. My home. My family.

I would never see my mother again. My father had passed a little over a year ago to cancer, so my mother and I were already in the practice of mourning. But my mom, not only had she lost my dad, but now she would think I was dead too. How would she cope?

How was I going to cope? How could I ever trust anyone again? Bella and the Cullens had taken advantage of me. Of my love. My loyalty.

I wouldn't let it happen again. Never.

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Taglist: @alecvolturi @lack-lust-3r @pawspurpaw @pooka167 @rosedpetal

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#demetri volturi x reader #demetri volturi #volturi #fanfic #reader insert #twilight

484 notes · View notes

luvhughes43 · 8 months

Text

all-american b!tch | hughes!sister

guts masterlist🦋 - luvhughes43 masterlist🌙

summary: hughes!sister dealing with the success of her brothers, online hate, and her feelings of having to be strong all the time.

note: little bit of luca fantilli x reader

word count: 1.9k

and i am built like a mother and a total machine

i feel for your every little issue, i know just what you mean

and i make light of the darkness

i've got sun in my motherfuckin’ pocket, best believe

yeah, you know me

y/n hughes is the kindest girl you’d ever have the pleasure of meeting. as the youngest and only daughter of one of the most iconic hockey families, yn grew up in a turbulent world where she had learned to thrive. she plays the family sport, had to navigate through the hardships of being associated with her brothers, and she would be the first to tell you that her experiences had made her a better person.

“okay trevor listen,” yn hughes or, as referred to by trevor, tiny tot, leaned in closer to the aforementioned boy. “it's quite simple… ghosting the girl will only make her trust you less. i know the podcasts have said that getting close to a girl then ghosting her will make them fall for you but seriously, that's such a bad idea”

trevor nodded along to each word, pulling out his phone so he could draft a text to “the girl” in question. “okay so like… what should i say then?”

“hmm” yn loomed over the side of trevor's phone as she watched his fingers drift over the keys. once he had finished, he tilted his screen over to her so she could either approve or deny his message.

there was a brief pause, “i can't tell if you're joking or not,” yn responds, causing jack to giggle as he paused to read the message over both yn and trevors shoulder.

“I always wondered why you were better at meeting chicks at bars…” jack chuckles, “they never had to read one of your messages”

“its not that bad!” trevor whines loudly as he attempts to grab his phone back from you.

you hold the phone away from him, swiftly raising your free hand to stop him from moving any closer towards the phone. “don't worry i can fix this,” you speak smoothly to which jack bursts into another round of giggles.

“bro you cannot tell a girl that you-”

trevor clamped his hand over jacks mouth, effectively stopping him from reciting the awful text to the room full of their friends. “shush, the master is working”

you rewriting trevors text was just one of the many things you did for the people you considered family. you would sit with luke for hours, letting him rant to you about his move to NJD back when he was still at michigan with you. you would have weekly recaps with your best friends and teammates about their lives, always making sure to help any of them out if needed.

forgive and i forget

i know my age, and i act like it

got what you can’t resist

i’m a perfect all-american

despite the positives, you got an overwhelming amount of hate for just… existing. you could be the most perfect person, and people who didn't know you would still come after you online.

you would never admit to anyone that the hate and harassment bothered you but… it always stung. in the beginning, when you first “came into the public's eye” when you started playing on the umichs womens hockey team you couldn’t avoid the hatred. people from school had started using you for your connections to all the boys you knew, and before you had the time to go private on socials (you’re now public again), you would spend hours reading through hate and manually deleting all the messages.

ynhughes86 posted 1 year ago

liked by luca.fantilli, lhughes_06, edwards.73, and others

ynhughes86 welcome to the den🐺️🗣

tagged: umichwhockey, teammates,, and more

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teammate1 GO BLUE🗣🗣

lhughes_06 #goblue

jackhughes andddd everybody screamed!!

jackhughes number lookin fresh

liked by ynhughes86

_quinnhughes 〽️

trevorzegras tiny tot making moves🫡

ynhughes86 youve gotta let that go..

user03 the power of being a hughes💀💀

removed

user82 did daddy and mommy pay ur way in?

removed

user21 not surprised that shes playing for umich… lets be real no other team would take her. shes a hockey nepo baby fr

removed

user44 ??? have u even looked at her stats and plays? shes definitely good lol

user09 shes nowhere near her brothers levels lets be real

removed

user77 looks like she cares more about partying than she does about hockey... surprising.. not!😒🙄

removed

i am light as a feather, i’m fresh as the air

coca-cola bottles that i only use to curl my hair

i got class and integrity

just like a goddamn Kennedy, i swear

with love to spare

after a few months of going through hate comment deep dives, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let them bother you anymore. In celebration, you made your instagram public again and paid absolutely no attention to any of the hateful people in your comments and dms.

yhughes86 just posted !

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ynhughes86 just your average roadie🫡

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ynhughes86 special shoutout to trevorzegras for losing our bet! without u i wouldn’t have been able to do what i do🙏 aka spend money at the mall

liked by trevorzegras

teammate5 we should never be let loose in the mall ever again

ynhughes86 we should never be allowed off the bus

lhughes_06 dub after dub

ynhughes86 oh u know it💯

luca.fantilli is this why you were teaching me about girl math? u were trying to justify your purchases?

ynhughes86 … no comment

user32 using trevors money… wow. so she's a gold digger too?

user91 u guys are so lame let a girl live

ynhughes86 just posted !

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ynhughes86 all the love at the banquet tonight

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teammate1 love uuu my forever girl

ynhughes86 love u more!! u looked so good tonight

luca.fantilli girl in the last pic is kinda cute idk

ynhughes86 kind of?

luca.fantilli girl in the last pic is very cute im 100% sure of it

ynhughes86 the cute girl in the last pic thinks youre 100% cute too

lhughes_06 the guy in none of the pics thinks you guys are disgusting

user44 no style no game

user81 grow up loser

i’m a perfect all-american bitch

with perfect all-american lips

and perfect all-american hips

i know my place and this is it

ynhughes86 just posted !

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ynhughes86 perfect all-american or whatever olivia rodrigo said

tagged: luca.fantilli

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trevorzegras that's right no swearing for you tiny tot

ynhughes86 😐

user57 “or whatever olivia rodrigo said” yeah she hates women

user91 thats why she's so close to the guys but u didnt hear that from me!

user16 if u guys dont leave this girl alone…

teammate2 OHH BFF LOOKS SO HOT

teammate3 please marry me

luca.fantilli 🤤🤤

liked by ynhughes86

lhughes_06 nope.

i don't get angry when i’m pissed

i'm the eternal optimist

i scream inside to deal with it

whenever something bothers you, you keep it in. you hold all of your troubles and worries so deep within you that eventually, they float away and come back to haunt you when you least expect it. you thought that if you ignored all of your problems, that they would somehow fix themselves without any intervention from anyone else.

it wasn’t always helpful.

all the time

i’m grateful all the time

i’m sexy and i’m kind

i’m pretty when i cry

“they only ask me about my brothers, lu” your sniffles were quieted by the fabric of lucas sweater as you pressed yourself against his chest. you had played possibly the best game of your career, and the post interview questions were all about your brothers and family. questions wondering about their training and practices and how that had impacted you, how their game influenced yours. it made you feel like you were irrelevant in your own career.

“i am so grateful for my family and how they’ve helped me grow as a player,” you responded politely to the interviewers' inquiries. it's not like you weren’t grateful. you knew that your family had a huge impact on your skills and you were glad that they were there to help you. but nobody ever wondered what your individual experiences were. all your training had to be a direct reflection of your brothers. your playing style, even unrelated, had to do with your brothers. your wins were a direct result of their greatness. nothing you would ever do or succeed in would be solely yours.

“i love them,” you sob, “i really do! i just want people to see me”

lucas' arms tightened around you as he started brushing your hair away from your face. “i know, baby” he whispered into your ear, holding you close as he waited for your breathing to calm down.

“i just wanna be me!” you slumped against lucas front, who carefully pulled you over to your bed so you could sit down on top of him.

you could hear the loud pop music blaring from the speakers downstairs, and you listened in silence to the people trudging up and down the stairs as they no doubt looked for a bathroom.

“have you talked to your brothers about this?” lucas' soft voice cuts into the silence.

you pull away from him slightly so you could look at him in the eyes. “no…” you admitted quietly. “they wouldn’t understand,” you leaned your head against lucas shoulder as you cuddled into him.

he hummed quietly to you, a hand running down your back to help further soothe you. “i think you might feel better if you open up to them,” luca hedged. both of you knew that your previous statement was a lie.

“i don't want them to think of me like that…”

“like what?” luca questioned, his hand never leaving your back as you continued to prop yourself against him.

you sighed. “i just… they always come to me. i don't want that to stop or for them to think that im weak” your words were quiet as you finally admitted your true feelings to your boyfriend.

“they could never think you're weak,” luca murmurs reassuringly. “luke talks all the time about how he thinks you're adjusting to life here better than he did,” you look up at luca inquisitively. “and quinn, he is so proud of you! he talks so highly of you all the time… and jack, i mean come on. they all love and support you so much. they won’t stop asking for advice or talking to you because you're having some troubles” luca explains. “also, there’s nothing wrong with being weak. you should let yourself be open with your brothers just like they are with you. you deserve that”

“have i ever told you that i love you?” you tearfully smile at the boy who was always so good at listening to you.

luca smiles back, “not enough” he jokes as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

you brush a few strands of hair out of his face. “i'll call them tomorrow,” you add, reciprocating luca's kiss on the cheek.

luca smiles, happy that you're no longer worked up and that you’ll finally tell your brothers your struggles.

you spend the rest of the night hidden away from the raging party downstairs, wrapped up in your boyfriend's arms as you think about everything you try to hide. you didn’t have to be just one thing. you were allowed to be kind and to have complex emotions. you could be upset and angry without being a mean girl. perfect never existed, and you were glad that you were finally open to letting others see the cracks in your walls.

lucas’ hair was soft as you ran your hands through his locks. “i love you,” luca mumbles.

“i love you” you whisper to your boyfriend, placing a kiss on his shoulder as he shifts to lay his head on the middle of your chest.

you easily fall asleep comforted by the fact that you were allowed to be flawed, and that no matter what, you’ll always have your people by your side.

#OR masterlist #hughes!sister #jack hughes x reader #trevor zegras x reader #luke hughes x reader #luca fantilli x reader #nhl blurb #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #quinn hughes x reader

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izzyhandslightofmylife · 4 months

Text

Official statement on why Izzy's death affected me so much

Our Flag Means Death, is, at it’s core, is a show that focuses on queer joy- a form of therapy for those that have been raised on queerbaiting, shipping minor side characters, or watching, when nothing else is available, queer tragedies. You know how it goes- the two main characters, both male, have chemistry. They say things to each other that seem weirdly like declarations of love. They look at each other with love in their eyes. You see these things and the main man gets married off to a badly written, unfinished female character and is left feeling empty. The best friend dies for the main character to live. When everyone talks about how cute the main couple are, you want to scream all of a sudden, because nobody can see this love story play out except you. It’s queer, it’s tragic, and nobody else can understand it.

Not Our Flag Means Death. From the moment it aired, it was praised as a show with unabashed queer joy, which means more than I can possibly say. The two main male characters meet, they have chemistry, and they fall in love. It’s not implied, or hinted at, but blatantly obvious. Their romances and the queer romances around them attracted so many queer fans who felt that after so many years, this type of show was a vindication for what they had been through with other media.

In this show, piracy itself was that of a found family. Though Stede Bonnet and the crew of the Revenge start off with many differences, the core of the show centers around a theme that many queer audiences are attracted to: found family. The Revenge was depicted as a safe space, where everyone could express themselves freely, a refuge from a world of judgment. Queerness was not only accepted but normalized on The Revenge. No homophobia, no coming out, no typical complications of queer romance. Just love and safety. Warmth, which was Ed Teach wished for in purgatory. Which was what he found on the Revenge. The ship was a safe space that so many queer audiences had dreamed of.

Well, a safe space except for one person: Izzy Hands, Blackbeard’s First Mate, who was a man painfully stuck in the wrong genre. This is the general consensus by both fans and the cast: Izzy, Edward and their crew had been in a gritty action movie, whereas Stede and his crew were in a muppet movie of sorts. While the majority of Blackbeard’s crew quickly acclimates to and celebrates the change, Izzy doesn’t.

And right away, many fans felt a deep attraction to Izzy. The reason that Izzy couldn’t get Edward to love him was because, in the end, the only way that Izzy knew how to love was through blood. To give and receive pain in an action movie is one of the greatest forms of love, but Izzy fails to realize that Ed is not in an action movie anymore. He is happy with this stability, and the reason that so many people felt Izzy’s presence so was strongly was that he wasn’t.

So many queer people are, in a way, addicted to tragedy. Tragedy is all that is represented in queer media for the most part, or was until very recently. Take Achilles and Patroclus, one of the most celebrated and recognized queer love stories of both ancient and modern times. Why that one? There are other greek love stories, many of them queer. The tragedy of it- Patroclus’ death and Achilles’ rage- made it all the more appealing. Many in the audience of Our Flag Means Death were not comedy fans, they were horror or drama fans, attracted to a comedy because of the love story. But Izzy, to them, was a physical representation of who they were, carrying an awareness of homophobia, of blood and pain that so many queer relationships had previously been illustrated by (i.e. Hannibal). Though Ed may not have understand this type of affection, the audience did- Izzy’s Otherness from the crew despite it’s safety, his expressions of love and his unrequited love story were all things that the audience were familiar with feeling.

If Ed and Stede were good queer representation, Ed and Izzy, for example, were a foil of that. They were evil, messed up, and fed into the worst parts of each other because it brought them closer. This is a theme present in a lot of queer media, and by extension, queer lives: “if you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand”, is an excerpt classic queer poem about unrequited love that fits the situation. The very reason Izzy stuck in people’s heads because he was of a different genre. His grittiness and bitterness made sense to the audience. They saw Izzy and saw what was familiar. He was exquisitely written, simultaneously making even casual audiences both hate him, and against all odds, find him oddly endearing. The idea of this man sacrificing every inch of himself for an unrequited love was a concept of tragedy, leaking into a comedic show.

So fans projected onto Izzy. He was a catalyst for the heartache, for the audience’s sheer inability to have a happy show. For one reason or another, some of the audience simply couldn’t live with a show that was all fantastical, which I theorize is because they couldn’t see themselves in it. So Izzy became the epitome of queer suffering: pining longingly after another man that couldn’t understand him. This projection of suffering, however, led to a new wish: happiness for Izzy. If Izzy in Season 1 was a tragedy, assimilating him into the found family in Season 2 would have elevated the safe sense of the ship all the more. It would have proved to so many of these Izzy Fans that yes, even though you view yourself as unloveable, even though you see yourself as Israel Hands, Villain, even he can be loved too. Why can’t you be?

And Season 2, for the most part, delivered beyond our wildest dreams. Izzy had people who cared about him. And though the genre shifted into the darker, Izzy himself shifted slightly to the comedic side as well. His life, which had been centered for so long around a man that didn’t reciprocate his feelings, was gone. He started a new life, and this life, again, focused on queer joy. The queer joy from Season 1 was suddenly for everyone, even those like Izzy that couldn’t have understood it. He sang, he whittled, he talked about feelings, he dressed in drag. Many elder queer fans also saw Izzy as another metaphor, too: that queer joy can be attained overtime. You don’t have to have had it the whole time, but you can accept yourself even when you are older. The message of Izzy was one of resilience and stubbornness, one that the queer community needed to hear: that you don’t have to be like this, you don’t have to create pain for yourself. You don’t need to watch tragedies all the time. You, too, can heal from the past.

And then, the season finale happened. By this point, many argued that Izzy had stolen the show. Con O’Neil’s acting mixed with his general arc of self acceptance had made him a fan favorite. In the last episode, it is Izzy himself who sums it up perfectly, accepting that he belongs somewhere despite his pain and flaws. Despite the darkness within him, he was still accepted and loved. He says it right to the face of Prince Ricky, who thinks himself above it all. That piracy, a metaphor for otherness, wasn’t actually about being alone; it was about finding others that understood you when nobody else could.

Listen, this show is known for it’s nonsensicality. In the finale of Season 1, Lucius is thrown overboard by Ed and survives by simply swimming to another ship. Stede reunites with his crew by sailing a rowboat. Buttons turns into a seagull. Stede stabs Ed for a comedic bit. Earlier in the season, Izzy himself gets shot and survives. This queer joy show was celebrated for being, well, joyful. Even when things like getting thrown overboard did happen, they were, ultimately, a blip in the character’s journey towards acceptance, healing, etc, which was what made the show unique. Our Flag Means Death, whose audience had been living for years off of the “Bury your gays” trope, was adored because it illustrated a world where things didn’t have to be that way. A place where the impossible, such as Izzy Hands being loved, could happen. This show was one of survival.

But not for the one person that was seen to struggle with this concept the most. Not for the one person that was a metaphor for belonging in this place, who became, over the course of a season, the embodiment of the message itself. Not for the Unicorn, the very symbol of this magical, nonsensical ship. Not for the most stubborn, most indestructible, most enduring (queer) person in the show. Not for Izzy Hands.

This trope, honestly, was one that many have seen before, both in mainstream and queer media. A character, previously shown to be a villain or else to have gone through a lot of pain, is shown to heal, to get better, and then to die in order to “complete their arc”. This trope is common: Loki, Cas. even Ted Lasso, who doesn’t die but goes back to the very place that broke him in the first place. But the reason that Izzy’s death, while it might have been expected in another show, felt like a betrayal in this one is because it was known for subverting those tropes. From the “Bury Your Gays” to the “Up For Interpretation”, it was known to look those tropes in the eyes and say “fuck you, these people deserve to be happy”. And this did happen! Except for the one character who’s healing journey was one of the most relatable, at least to queer audiences.

What also made it so jarring was that all the other characters got to be happy, except for the one that had struggled with the idea of happiness the most. In the scene immediately after Izzy is buried, Lucius and Pete get married. In the scene after, a montage of queer joy and found family is shown amongst the whole crew. In the final scene, Ed and Stede, our main queer couple, are shown healing themselves and starting a new life together. The last shot, however, showed Izzy’s grave, visited by Buttons the seagull while Ed and Stede had dinner. A tragedy in it’s finest. It wouldn’t have been difficult for Izzy to live. Because, in the end, his death meant nothing. His healing meant nothing. He died and was moved on from in a matter of seconds. He was, as I mentioned, the catalyst for tragedy, more specifically, queer tragedy. But because of this, of his genre, Izzy didn’t get to live. He had to die in order for the rest of the characters to keep living in this fantasy world. This death was, in a way, a preservation of these other love stories.

I maintain, however, that it would have meant more if Izzy had lived. If he had been able to show to us that yes, despite what you have been through, despite what you may have inflicted upon yourself, you can switch genres. It’s possible. Izzy’s survival up until that point had been a profound testament to many that it is possible to heal, that queerness does not have to mean sadness. It would have continued to be a testament to that if only Izzy had lived. And so, this pirate that we latched onto, not in spite of his darkness but because of it, was buried on land on the side of the road.

As a side note, many previous incidences in the story point to the idea even though Ed and Stede will definitely stay together, it’s uncertain if the inn would have worked out. It’s likely that, being a whim, those two might have chosen to move, or go back to the sea, or sail to China. If this is true, they would have left Izzy’s grave by itself, like a family pet buried in the yard. If this is true, Izzy Hands, a metaphor for belonging, would rot alone.

Long live the tragedy addicts. Long live the Richard Siken poems. Long live Izzy Hands.

*When I talk about the "fandom" I am referring to the canyon.

#izzy hands #izzy hands apologist #izzy canyon #our flag means death #ofmd finale #ofmd #izzy hands death #izzy deserved better #ofmd fanfic #i guess #ofmd canyon #con o'neill #tragedy #oh uh happy new year #ofmd meta

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