#but i was already kind of having one of those long anxiety attacks or was at least feeling like shit the whole morning

[damagdsnow]

Fix my reputation

Pairing: young Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look reliable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal. 

Tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play. eventual: smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praising public sex

Chapter 1, chapter 2;

aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;

Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, eventual: mention of blood

Word count: 6.7k

Note: English is not my first language so if you see mistakes please feel free to correct me in the comments! It is also my very first time posting here on tumblr, I’ve always wanted to post my writing and finally I am now brave enough to do so, enjoy!

You hated that man. 

If there was something you were sure about, it was that you didn’t want to be here with him, at the same table having lunch. You could feel his perking blue eyes staring into your soul even though he was not looking at you, he was meticulously cutting an apple with his long fingers and a shiny knife.

How did you get here? The man you so wholeheartedly hated, was now part of your life, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You felt like that apple he was cutting so carefully, peeling your skin, your essence, the way he was holding it seemed he was scared it could run away. You could run away. 

The problem was, you would never run away. Run away to whom? To your mother who disclaimed you? To those friends who didn’t help you out? You had no choice. Now the only thing you had was your reputation ruined for a fatal mistake that could have been avoided. That was not enough, the only way to clean your image was to be with Snow. The charismatic, intelligent and kind Coriolanus Snow. Or this was what people said about him. What The Capitol said about him.

You didn’t think the same. You knew who he really was, you saw what they couldn't see. He was evil, he was the one who got the games so popular with his ideas, the one who didn’t mind sending children to death.

You and Coriolanus had only one thing in common. Maybe two or three. One of them was that you both needed each other’s influence in society for different interests. His strategy to win the elections included a woman by his side to make him look reliable and sensitive, but he mostly planned on taking advantage of your popularity to make his own name. You, on the other hand, just needed someone who could clean your reputation after a little incident.

Who better than the master manipulator Coriolanus Snow? You weren’t thrilled with the idea of spending time with him. But it was going to be just for once. The gala before the official beginning of presidential elections, the most awaited event in the Capitol.

The agreement was playing the part of two lovers who not by chance people already knew, his name was well known. Yours? Still on the news. It was just a ball, you could do a night of pretending. 

 “Tigris said you haven't tried your dress on yet,” his voice interrupted your thoughts, and you looked in his direction to see his expression. 

He still had the apple in his hands and he was cutting it in half-moon shapes, he took one bite in his mouth and he directly stared at you while chewing. You tried to hide your disgust as Snow's eyes met yours, his smile sending chills down your spine. It was as you had imagined, or even worse, you felt his blue eyes dissecting you in pieces, like he was examining you, looking for your deepest secrets. You knew that staying calm and composed in his presence was crucial. 

“I don’t want to, it fits me.” You didn’t even look at that dress, it was even sent to your house but you refused to open the box knowing that he chose it.

“I hope it will,” Coriolanus didn’t take his eyes off of yours. “At least try to read how you should answer the questions, many people will be there,” he then said while standing up from his chair. His tall frame loomed over you, and you couldn't help but shiver under his intense gaze. 

“Are you giving me homework to do now?” you said, looking up at him.

“I’m simply providing you with some advice,” his voice tinged with subtle amusement. “Oh, you think it’s going to be simple after all you did? “The Capitol won’t forgive you easily,” then he walked away, leaving you alone in the dining room. 

This day felt longer than ever. The morning before you had received a letter from Snow’s manor telling you that someone was going to pick you up to prepare you for the event. It was signed by his publicist, Iris. You met her a couple of times before: a well dressed woman who knew too much about anyone's business in the Capitol. It was her idea to have lunch with him, “just to get to know each other more,” she said, but for you it was just a reminder of his real personality. They even gave you a room for the day, two chambers away from his, quoting Iris’s letter “this way you can feel comfortable,” you thought she was too attentive and kind to work for someone like Snow.

Iris was the one convincing you to take part in this gala, she explained to you that someone cherished like Coriolanus would draw the attention away from the scandal. You two just had to pretend to be together, “the Capitol loves unexpected new couples,” the publisher said to you the first time you saw her, “the young aspiring president and the woman everybody talks about.” Iris was convinced that this way Coriolanus was seen as the devoted partner who wasn’t afraid of your bad reputation, and you as the woman ready to rise from the ashes. 

You ran into your room and slammed the door so loud you hoped he could hear you. You found a big envelope on your bedsheets, and you hoped it was some sort of -hey remember the incident? It’s not your fault, everything it’s okay!-thing, but unfortunately, it was not a free pass to the world. It was a sheet listing all possible answers to some questions you might be asked today at the gala. It was like a script to follow to save your face, to look good in front of the cameras, in front of the-very-judging-elitè. In that sheet, you could find any imaginable question they could ask, where your dress was from or who your family were. 

“Did you do that on purpose?” It was one of the questions, and you thought this was something Snow would ask you. He didn’t say a thing about what you did, in the few times you talked he never asked you directly about the scandal. He could have wanted explanations, the real version of the story from you, but he never said a word. You read the answers on the sheet, and they were all perfectly written, so meticulously explained using the Capitol-vocabulary, elegant words and a candid tone. 

“How did you meet Mr. Snow?” Your heart skipped a beat, you didn’t consider being asked about your fake relationship with him, it was all new to you.

 “…it was love at first sight, who couldn’t love an extraordinary man like him, I immediately fell in love.” You had to read the full answer twice to be certain you weren’t hallucinating. 

You would never have said those words, never in a billion years, not even under torture, of course you were ready to lie, but lying to this level? It was too much. You knew it was him who wrote this answer, you imagined the grin on his face while typing those words about him. You were mad. The answers about your dating life with Coriolanus were filled with romantic moments and exaggerated gestures that made you feel uncomfortable reading their unrealistic nature. You tried imagining those things happening in real life, but it felt completely alien and artificial. It was difficult to believe that anyone could genuinely experience those events. With Coriolanus mostly. You read the pages, over and over, a book would have been better because there was too much to read, but instead, you were stuck with a bunch of printed documents detailing your supposed love story. 

He also put dates on when things happened: your first date in the lake house in July, the time you had dinner in a fancy restaurant in August and the day you moved in his place. Lies. Lies. Lies. Apparently you officially started dating three months ago. Three? You scrolled over the pages, hoping not to read what you were thinking. 

“…after the incident, Coryo was very supportive, always there to comfort and reassure me even though all I did. I felt like I betrayed him too, but he always said we could get through it together, and I found myself falling for him all over again.” You knew none of this ever happened, and yet here it was, staring back at you in black and white. It was as if the words were playing tricks, as if the words were there to pretend instead of simply put on paper.

You sighed and closed the file, feeling a mix of frustration, confusion, and irritation. He was never there for you. Nobody was. You were all alone. After that day, you cried every night, and you were the one reassuring yourself, lying in front of the mirror saying ‘it’s going to be okay’ while your sense of guilt was slowly eating your guts. He wanted to appear like the perfect partner, but you knew the truth. It was all a façade. Deep down, you knew the real him, and it took all your strength to acknowledge the reality. You threw the stack of files on the floor, it was all too much. 

You got up from the bed, and you went directly to his room, determined to confront him about the distorted reality that had been painted in those files. You didn’t even knock on his door, and you felt surprised when you noticed it wasn’t locked. You open the door, and you close it from behind, entering the room. He was standing close to his bed, completely oblivious to your presence. It was like he expected you to burst into his room out of nowhere.

“You finally read the file,” he said, looking at his wrist without making eye contact. 

He was focusing on buttoning his cuff links, his fingers fumbling with the buttons, his white shirt still open and his blonde hair wet from the shower. His normally confident demeanor was replaced with vulnerability as he waited for your response, the tension thick in the air. It was the very first time you saw him not perfectly dressed up, without styled hair and shiny shoes. The sight of him standing there, so different from his usual self, caught you off guard.

“Yes, I’ve read your fabricated tale,” you said, trying not to look at him, at the droplets of water sliding down his temple, his fingers still struggling with the shirt. “You should have become a fiction book writer, you got talent.” 

"I just wanted to impress you," he admitted, finally looking up to meet your gaze. “I can see I got a reaction from you,” he definitely succeeded in catching your attention, with those iper-articulated lies, not even close to what really happened.

“The agreement was that I won't say anything bad about you, just be by your side as a trophy-fake-girlfriend in this stupid gala, inventing absurd stories won't win my reputation back," you said firmly, crossing your arms. 

He reached his desk where there was a glass of some alcohol sloshing around, poured himself a drink and took a long, deep swig. “They won't believe you if you only stand by me like a mannequin, you have to be an active member of their social life, so they can get to know you, sympathize you and maybe forgive you,” he said in a calm tone, you could see his profile while he was again drinking from his glass, his shirt still open that showed his toned body.

You immediately looked away taking a deep breath. “I won't be a part of any false narrative you wrote,” was the only thing that came to your mind. 

He scoffed his head, “Just for the period of the presidential campaign, nothing more.” 

“Are you suggesting that this ridiculous act is going to take longer than just a day?” 

“I know you don’t like me, you just need to pretend you do. I’ll do the same,” he took another sip of that liquor while looking at you, “the publicist said just one appearance at the gala isn’t going to be beneficial to either of us.”

“Why are you telling me this now? The plan was slightly different,” you said

“Oh I knew you were going to be reluctant about the idea of pretending to live here, just for show,” he was serious, his fierce eyes looking at you waiting for a reply.

“I almost tolerated your presence at work, and now you want me to live in the same house as yours?” You asked 

“After the gala, they are going to focus on the ‘new couple’, our performance has to be something they really believe in,” he leaned his head at the same height as yours, “we already don’t have that chemistry, at least they are going to think we live together,” Coriolanus said to your ear, his curls brushing your cheek. 

“I simply decline your proposal, find someone else.” You said with a fake smile.

“Didn’t journalists harass you every time you left your little apartment? How exhausting, isn’t it?” He whispered in a sarcastic tone, making you remember all those times you ran away from photographers. “I got peacekeepers here, no one is going to bother you anymore, as long as you don’t bother me,” he turned to the desk, placing the empty glass in a tray, “strangers in real life, lovers on the outside.” 

“The problem is that I despise you, I cannot do this for one more day,” you couldn’t see his expression,  just his white see-through shirt displaying his back muscles.

“No, the problem is that you don’t understand how fucked up your situation is,” he was now facing you, “I know people who were condemned for way less, you are lucky,” his words were sharp as blades.

“Lucky to have you? It’s a punishment,” you said and he laughed. 

“Then don’t come at me crying at why people still hate you,” he took a few steps closer to you

 “So you can comfort me like you did a month ago?” You asked him pointing out the most absurd lie in that file.

“Oh, so you read every single page, you really did your homework.”

You stood your ground, refusing to be manipulated any longer. He was doing that purposely, just to provoke you, saying those things just to see how far you could take. Coriolanus was looking at you with his piercing gaze, attempting to intimidate you, he expected you to buckle down and crumble in front of him, but you would never give him such satisfaction, you were already in hell, so why not play with fire? 

“Why me?” you asked him, and you saw a sense of surprise in his eyes. “Why, of all the girls in Panem, you decide the only one who can give you trouble?” You took a step closer to his figure, “there are so many good girls from rich families and intact reputations, why me? I’ll just ruin you.” You said, trying to catch his eyes looking back at you. But you could only see his frowning eyebrows, his wet messy hair and a droplet of water trailing down his neck, you were so close to him, you could hear him breathing.

“Everybody knows your name, bad press is still press,” his eyes finally met yours. “You are the center of attention,” he took a step back, as if momentarily distancing himself from the tension. “The presidential elections are extremely competitive, it’s not a race for who’s superior to whom,” he licked his lips, “but who is going to perform better for these people looking for distractions. “We are going to be their little show”

“So tell me Coriolanus,” you stepped closer as you were before. The height difference was such that it made you look up at him, you took one side of his shirt in your hand and you buttoned up with the other, feeling his warm torso on your fingers. "How exactly do you propose to fix my reputation while bolstering your own?” you finished, a sly smile dancing on your lips and your eyes looking for him. 

Coriolanus was looking down at your fingers still brushing his skin, he had his lips parted and he softly whispered, “just play the game,” his eyes still fixed on you. He was talking about making everything right again, but it felt like there was something more behind those words. 

You stepped back, trying to compose yourself. “I’m just giving them another reason to hate me with this bunch of lies,” you were looking down at the floor when you heard him stepping closer to you. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his eyes on your face. 

He lifted your chin with two fingers and made you look up at him, “I’ll make them fall for our lie,” he said, his voice was so deep and calm.

 “You are a master manipulator,” you whispered back, looking down again as if the floor was more interesting than the man standing in front of you. 

You heard him chuckle, and he leaned closer to your ear, “and I’m going to teach you how to be one too.”

Your first public appearance after the scandal was going to be at this gala. Everything was calculated in detail, the dress you wore had to be long and white, as pure as snow. Your hair had to be loose so it could cover your exposed back, and apparently you had to memorize pages and pages of answers you could give. After your intense conversation in his room you decided to play the game seeing how far you could take, how far you would do to take everything back. He wanted you under his spell, he was trying to shape you how he desired, for his own interests. 

“Dear, why aren’t you dressed yet?” The publicist said to you while you were sitting on the smooth sheets of your bed. You had your bathrobe still on, it’s been thirty minutes since you had a shower but you had your head in the clouds. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation with Coriolanus, his wet hair, the words he said to you, his naked torso, his manipulating eyes. You repeat to yourself that he was Coriolanus Snow, and not any man, he probably told you half the strategy he really had in mind. Being with him was like playing chess blindfolded, you had to trust him but he could mess up your moves, change your plans.

“Come here I’ll help you,” Iris said, she seemed like a good person, she had a comforting smile and an elegant manner with everything she did. She was wearing a short coppery-brown color dress, it was shiny as her nails, decorated with tiny gold stones. You took her hand and you stood up, making the bathrobe fall on the carpet. The silk of the dress soothed your skin like a petal, you looked at the mirror and the weak light coming from your window gently reflected on your bright dress, almost making it shine. 

“It is really pretty,” you said astonished while turning to see your exposed back. Then your smile disappeared because you remembered it was him who picked the dress. 

 “You are making it pretty, my darling,” Iris stated as she fastened the zip on your side. It was a simple dress yet delicate and impressive, it embraced the shape of your body effortlessly. 

“It is just a little loose here on your waist,” the woman said, touching the excess fabric on your side. You remembered the conversation early this morning when you proudly said the dress fitted you.

“I’m going to tell Tigris to fix it,” Iris said and you immediately looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“No please,” she changed her expression, “it is bad luck to mend a dress the same day it is worn,” your mother always said that to you, maybe it was not a popular saying considering the publicist's face.

 She tilted her head with a confused smile as she touched the yellow-butterflies-clip in her voluminous red wig. Now that you were thinking about it, you sewed your skirt the day it happened, ‘it’s just a coincidence, I don’t believe in these things’ you said to yourself, you were not superstitious but at the same time you avoided superstitions, just in case.

 “Whatever you want,” Iris said with a soft smile. 

  You touched your neck and you thought how a shiny pendant would look good. “Iris, do we have some necklace to match this dress?” She stepped closer to you looking at your chest. 

“I think you shouldn’t wear any jewelry tonight,” you tilted your head in confusion, “see, today is your first appearance after the,” she paused, “incident.”

“And what is it supposed to do with jewe—“ she didn’t let you finish your sentence.

“You could wear pearls or diamonds but what would the elite think? That you want to appear, that you want to show off,” she walked behind you so you could see her reflection in the mirror. “How you present yourself is the way they perceive you,” Iris brushed your long hair on the side, exposing your neck, “you are wearing a white dress, ‘how pure!’ No diamonds, ‘how modest!’ “try to think like the socialites, once you enter their minds, your act will get a standing ovation”. Her words put everything in a different perspective, she really knew what she was doing. 

You heard a knock on the door, “the party starts in an hour!” A muffled voice said from the corridor.

“Thank you Ariandes, we’re almost done!” Iris said in a loud tone. 

In less than sixty minutes you had to put on your best mask and try to change the mind of a thousand people about yourself, with Coriolanus by your side, pretending he is your supportive lover. You felt a rush of anxiety on your chest, like a weight pressing against your heart.

“I don’t think I can go,” you whispered with a trembling voice. Iris made a worried look.

“Oh sweety, I can only imagine what you have been through,” she took a lilac glass flask from the desk beside the mirror, “you are a strong woman,” she sprayed a lavender fragrance on your neck and she smiled. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, and with all your strength you tried to keep the tears that threatened to spill over. “Iris, how do I fake being so interested in someone?” You asked, thinking about what was written in that file. 

“Have you ever been in love?” She asked with a soft gaze.

You didn’t know the answer to that question, you had a couple of boyfriends in your university years, but were you in love? 

“It’s when every atom of your body's only desire is to burn at the mere thought of being with that someone,” Iris looked up, like she was thinking of somebody, you felt even more disoriented with her answer. 

You couldn’t identify that feeling with anyone, you’ve never met someone that made ‘your cells burn’. What would that even mean, you thought.

 The door opened and you turned your head to see Ariandes, the political advisor, “We gotta go,” he said looking at Iris. The man had his hair pulled back in a long braid, dark as his skin. You walked in his direction and you followed him.

The moment you stepped into the car you felt a sudden tension, it was dark outside, only one side of Coriolanus’ face was lit up by cars passing by. He was wearing a red coat that covered the rest of the outfit, his blonde locks were lightly falling on his temples and you noticed he was wearing a ring on his left index finger.

 “Act as natural as possible,” Coriolanus said and he looked at you, it felt like he was inspecting your body and you wished to be in his mind at that very moment.

 Was everything going according to plan? 

No, you didn’t want to know what it was like to be in his head, it was torturing enough being on the outside. 

“I’m not very good at lying,”

‘not as good as you’, you wanted to say. 

He looked at you like he read your mind, luckily you couldn’t see his expression. “Don’t be impulsive, smile and never leave my side,” you felt he was giving you orders, “what 's going to happen at the political campaign depends partially on today’s gala.”

 “You know, Mr. Snow,” you started “I tried reading your fiction-book but it was so,” you tried examining his face, “unrealistic,” he scoffed and looked the other way, “you want me to paint you as the man you aren’t and never will —caring, affectionate and respectful “I can’t do miracles, people won’t believe my lies forever.”

Coriolanus clenched his jaw, “at least the whole Panem doesn’t hate me,” he said close to your face.

“Yet,” you added, hoping to maintain eye contact one more second. 

“And just a reminder,” he said, “without me you would have been at home, crying and begging for forgiveness,” he whispered in a bitter tone in your ear.

 “And without me you wouldn’t have the attention you crave so much,” you replied, feeling the tension in the air. 

Coriolanus was too close to you, like an animal before hunting his prey, you could see his facial features reflecting the weak light outside. The engine stopped, and the driver opened the car door.

“Mr. Snow” he said and Coriolanus stepped out of the car, he didn’t even look at you. 

‘He would slam the door in my face if he could’, you thought.

 You took the driver’s hand, helping you get out with your long dress. Coriolanus took his maroon coat off and he gave it to an avox at the entrance. You could see him from his back, he was wearing an ivory jacket and trousers, his suit matched your gown. He calculated every single detail. Unexpectedly, Coriolanus waited for you as you stood by him in the hall, he extended his arm and you looked at him. 

“Do I have to?” You asked and you noticed a white rose on his breast pocket. 

“It’s just an act,” he replied and you took him by the arm. 

Let the play begin. 

The ballroom was lit by magnificent chandeliers and the air was filled with whispers and laughter. The atmosphere was comforting and energetic: people with colorful wigs, glitter dresses and sugary drinks. There was not a face you could recognise, it was not what you were used to, even though you have been living in the Capitol for all your life, you’ve never experienced a party like this. You walked through the crowd with Coriolanus by your side, arm by arm, while everybody was looking curiously at your direction. You’ve heard someone saying his name, and something about the girl he was walking with. 

Why her? Since when does Snow have a girlfriend? I’ve heard really bad things about that woman.

And there it was, the gossip, the uncertain glances and how they looked down on you. On the other hand, people were praising him. 

He’s so charming! White suits him well! Future president of Panem. 

You looked at Coriolanus, the warm light was making his eyes brighter, or was it the crowd? He looked at them so proudly, with a confident smile, he was living for that moment, being the center of attention. He met your gaze, then his blue eyes looked at your dress, but not the same way people did. 

It felt different. 

Was he judging? 

Admiring maybe? It was a mystery, nothing was black or white with him. 

Coriolanus greeted a couple of his acquaintances, introducing you as his partner, then calling you his date and it once slipped from his lips calling you his girlfriend. And you actually were, in that moment, you had to act as his beloved girlfriend who had a well known bad reputation. He never let your arm go away, he was acting so well, playing the caring boyfriend who couldn’t leave you alone. 

“Here they are, the couple of the night!” A loud voice came from behind, it was Flavius Windbuzz, one of the most famous tv hosts in the Capitol. His voice was recognisable from miles away, it didn’t matter if you watched television or not, he was everywhere and it was impossible in Capitol City not knowing his name. 

He stepped closer to you with a glowing smile and a glitter microphone, he had his hair gray, more like silver. “Everybody is talking about you, the new Capitol lovebirds,” a camera was pointing at you and your heartbeat was getting faster, everyone stopped talking and stared at you both. “So tell me Mr. Snow, who is this young lady you are showing off?” 

“You said it right Flavius, she is my girlfriend,” he did it again, Coriolanus said girlfriend, this time broadcast on tv. 

“What a pleasure to meet you,” the host said to you, he took your hand and kissed it. These exaggerated gestures were the usual in this type of parties, especially where a silver-haired-man was interviewing the guests. He asked about your family, if you liked the food —you didn’t touch any but you lied, and who was the designer of your dress, everything as the script said.

  “Honey, you are a really interesting woman but I have to ask you something,” Mr. Windbuzz said, “people are talking and it is my job to satisfy their desires. “So tell me, are the rumors true?” 

You expected a much worse question, you stopped breathing for a moment and Coriolanus noticed that because you tightened the grip on his arm. “You tell me Flavius, what do the rumors say?” You answered with a soft smile hiding your discomfort.

  “I know that during the last edition of The Hunger Games, something really unfortunate happened,” you noticed he had purple contacts on, and that was something that made you even more nervous. “Is it true that you took part in the incident we all saw live on TV?” He asked and you felt like your heart was beating outside your chest.

“It is true,” the crowd gasped, and your pulse increased. 

“So tell me, how did it feel when you killed those poor and innocent tributes?” The question was worded differently than what you read on that file. 

Killed. 

Poor and innocent. 

You couldn’t get out of your head their lifeless faces, the foam coming out of their mouths and the sound of the cannon echoing in that room. The hall started spinning, you saw the interviewer’s face, a mix of compassion and concern, as the crowd started whispering more and more you felt your head cold and heavy. The microphone was pointing in your direction but you could not even stutter a syllable, blank pages wandered in your mind and you felt a sense of emptiness. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned your dizzy head to see Coriolanus who started talking for you.

“She was more than devastated, I remember—, ” you saw his lips moving like the time had slowed down and you were not listening to his words, his voice echoed in your ears as you never took your eyes off of him. 

His grip on your shoulder tightened and his eyes looked at you as he tilted his head suggesting you both could go away. You followed him even though your ears were still ringing and your sight blurring, Coriolanus was walking too fast so you took his hand in yours or you could really faint on the ground. At that action, he looked at you with a confused stare, his hand grip was firm and steady as he dragged you in the bathroom. After checking no one was in there, he leaned against the door so no one could step in. You stood in front of him, his curls falling on his forehead that was a little sweaty, then he began talking, but the sound of his words were just an intense ring in your ears. He placed both his hands on your cheeks trying to have your attention, and you woke up from your hypnotic state.

“They are just hypocrites, they are the ones who watch The Hunger Games on tv, they send money to help their favorite to kill.” Coriolanus said looking in your eyes, and you started sobbing. “They are not better than you, “stop crying and play their game.” 

You felt the warmth of his hands on your skin, he never touched you this way, it was intimate, nothing you could expect from him. For a moment, you brushed your hand with his but he instantly removed it, walking away from your sight. 

“He was too indiscreet,” you heard him whisper, “I should’ve expected that from him.” 

“No Coriolanus, I should’ve expected this question,” your voice was still trembling, “you said it wasn’t going to be easy, I deserve this, “do you still think this act is a good idea?” You asked him. 

His tall figure leaned against the green tiles of the bathroom, he had his hands on his pockets and he was looking down, thinking about who knows what. Now that you were seeing from a distance, he resembled an angel. His white suit, his blonde curls and the perking blue eyes. No, there was nothing pure and heavenly in him. You thought he was probably thinking about how you ruined his plan, how he had to intervene to save your umpteenth failure and he was now calculating another strategy. 

‘Not an angel, a fallen angel, the next Lucifer of Panem.’

 “The night is still young,” he said while stepping to the door. He didn’t answer your question, was he regretting meeting you? 

Everything was as you left it. The party was still going and no one seemed to have noticed your panic attack. That was a relief. You tried distracting yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened before. The interview, the crying, his hands on your face. Everything was worse than you had expected. You and Coriolanus were in the hallway next to the massive columns that supported the ceilings, on the other side people were dancing to a classical melody. You wanted to stay there, outside their sight, because to you the dance floor was more like an arena where people were going to attack you. 

“Shall we?” Coriolanus extended his hand suggesting to go dancing with him. 

“I’m not good at dancing, I could step on your feet,” you hoped it would’ve been enough for him to give up. 

“I’ll take the risk.” That was his plan, acting like nothing happened and putting his best smile on to be the charming man everyone adored. 

You took his hand, the same hand that wiped your tears off your face was now intertwined in yours. Every time you looked for an excuse to not like him. As if you had to remind yourself that you hated him. Did you? He was dancing with you so naturally, holding you like you had known each other for a very long time, his hand on your waist as if he was used to it. There was nothing evil in him on the outside, and that was the problem. 

“I’ve just saved your face, thank me later.” 

You rolled your eyes at Coriolanus’ words. “I’m used to humiliations so next time don’t bother yourself.” you replied.

“Oh but I’m not used to it and don’t worry, there will be no next time.” Without a notice, he made you twirl around.

“When will this thing end?” You asked annoyed.

 “I hate it as much as you,” he pushed your waist closer to him, this way you were face to face, noses touching. 

“What the fuck Coriol—,” 

He interrupted you, “for the cameras.” 

You turned your head and you saw a bunch of flashes, blinding your sight. Coriolanus leaned over you and your lips were brushing, you couldn’t push him away because of the photographers. You had no time to tell him something, that he kissed you. It was for a second, just one second where your lips touched. It was cold, dry and unexpected. Just like him. Snow by name, snow by nature. If only eyes could talk. You’d probably say to him how you wished you weren’t there, with him, and you wondered what his blue eyes would say to you, probably the same. After that moment, Coriolanus didn’t say a word to you. You were there, smiling at photographers hoping to drop your mask as soon as they’d left. 

The rest of the night went according to plan. Flavius interviewed all the future candidates and Coriolanus had the opportunity to make his well prepared speech, he also got invitations from influential members close to the president Ravinstill, not to mention the many sponsor offers he had. At least something was going well, for him though. The ride back home was painful. You and Coriolanus were looking outside the window, his crimson coat was the only barrier separating your bodies. 

“Did they ever tell you how bad you are at kissing,” you hated silence so much you could say the stupidest things that came to mind just not to hear your thoughts. You turned your head to see him and his eyes were already on you. 

“Mhm, girls usually compliment me for other qualities,” he chuckled, “and then that wasn’t me kissing, remember it’s just for show,” he whispered looking at the driver hoping he wasn’t paying attention.

“Well, no one believed your poor attempt to look in love,” you said and he untied the knot of his white tie. 

“I was caught off guard,” he said looking at you, cars speeding in the window behind him, “and I can’t just kiss how I would normally do.” 

You tried not to laugh at his words, ‘what would that even mean?’ you thought. “Just try to convince them, because you didn’t even convince me.” 

“How should I kiss you then?”

He put his hand on the back of your head, with his thumb brushed your temple and he pulled you closer, his lips touching yours softly. You knew what was going to happen, but you let him do it. 

The way he kissed you, like he was starving for your lips, hungry for your taste. Was he the same man that kissed you before? You melted in his touch, his hand slided down your neck, his fingers pressing on your throat, making you shiver even more. He tasted like mint and posca, his hair smelled of roses and his skin was warm under your touch.

 Coriolanus pulled away from your lips but you came closer to cut the gap separating you. It felt like an instinct, like you were not satisfied enough and you could feel a sense of heat down your core. He pulled away the coat that was between you and his other hand was now on your exposed back, keeping you closer, his tongue still dancing dangerously with yours as you intertwined your fingers in his locks.

“Coryo” you said between kisses.

He wasn’t intending to stop and neither did you, but you remembered who was the man who was holding you that way, whose hands were making you shiver, whose lips were making you want for more and what nickname you just whined. 

“I think we should,” you managed to say, trying to stop yourself from doing something you were going to regret. You broke the kiss, his lips were swollen still too close to yours. 

He whispered, "I told you, I can be convincing when needed.”    

🦋 A/N: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, let me know what you think in the comments! I’ll probably explain the details of the scandal and how they met next time, it’s way more than you can imagine from here. Also I KNOW there is no smut here, but bear with me, it's a slow burn and trust me in the next chapter I’ll add some ✨ spice ✨. In this first chapter I wanted to set up the atmosphere.

A special thanks to Freddie Mercury and the song “Play the game” that helped me when I was stuck, to the poet Taylor Swift who reminded me of the many ways you can say the color red. PLEASE let me know if you want to be tagged next time 💌 

ask me questions here !

@gracieghost36955 @annavatar @ghostlyloversworld @badbussylol @gracieroxzy @coolcatyarb @coriosgf @xxrougefangxx @devils-blackrose @wearemadeofstardust0

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #slow burn #enemies to lovers #young coriolanus snow #coryo x reader #coryo smut #coryo snow #coryo x you #tom blyth #the hunger games

[themushroomofdeath]

law x female character | pre-time skip and debut hurt/comfort - angst-ish | anxiety, loss trauma, pre-relationship, panic attack

Trafalgar Law didn’t do love.

It was just who he was, he had already locked the part of himself that craved for those feeble, fragile feelings of affection a long time ago, it had died with his family, was buried together with Cora-san - the last spark of hope, an arm to hold, a father figure, a loved one. Now there was only a shell of a once carefree child, a cold man who kept everyone at an arm-length, one who despised the idea of attachment, of giving himself to something that could very easily be taken away.

No, he liked having control over himself, over his crew, his environment, but mostly, over his heart. Fancied himself a genius of a kind, always one step ahead of everyone else, not making a decision that would affect the decades worth of planning he did for his future self. A life made only for vengeance, for his family, for Cora, for the people he once knew and the child he once was.

So it really came as a surprise to him, that first irregular beat of his heart.

She was someone he never imagined to find in his life, a light of hope when he thought all was lost¹, an intellectual partner to his discuss his interests - and a diversity of others she kept picking along the way to share, an unexpected colleague of profession and abilities, someone not afraid to speak freely about what was on her brilliant mind, but never one to make others feel inferior compared to her. Her kindness seemed unlimited, as she confided one day about her dreams. “I want to be able to help the unfortunate, never have someone lose a loved one out of helplessness again.” As if she could read his concealed past, making him wish to have met someone like her, all those ten years ago, when he needed the most. 

“You can’t help everyone, that’s absurd.” Was what he answered instead. Like her warmth hasn't touched him enough to hope, to wish to be able help her achieve exactly that - be the beacon for those lost in the middle of a storm.

He should’ve stopped there, when the warmth reached him the first time. Should’ve stopped reaching for it. But like a man lost to an addiction, he would see himself looking for her around the Tang, just to talk - he would justify, she was the only one who understood all those medic jargons, she never laughed when she accidentally found his comics collection, she was interested in learning about it. He would even hear her opinion with his plans, her ability to look from a different perspective useful for him - no, not him, for their crew. In a year, she became a trusted crewmate and an indispensable partner.

And that was increasingly frustrating. 

Trusted enough to share his space, his usual alone time after a long time of work and research, he would invite her to stay around - as she was never too pushy of a friend, but always accepting of his company. They would sit alongside - a plate of rice balls, made exactly to his liking, two cups of warm tea brewed by the woman, and countless paper sheets scattered on his table. He was happy to share his studies with her, hear what she had heard and seen about the topic, an usual pleasant smile masking his features, but doing nothing to hide the fondness in his eyes. If he could’ve seen himself, he would’ve stopped right there.

In the moment, she was explaining how her powers worked, the ability of looking under a man’s skin and muscles with only her mind, how with the years of training in animals in her backyard, she’d come with the idea of reaching further and analyzing a being on a cellular level, forcing the seamless magical healing of most illness with her childhood wonder and endless hours of study of the human body. 

In awe as he was, he didn’t catch on how close she was, used from all her hand gestures when she was enthusiastic with a subject, it took him a moment to register how her soft and warm hand had landed on the skin of forearm, right above his tattoo. She was in the middle of explaining how he could use his powers in a similar way if he wanted to, when he realized the touch, the way his heart picked with interest and his entire body burned with longing for more. 

It was like being touched by the sun. One that should be always unreachable - to someone made of darkness like him, those burning hands were able to leave irreparable marks behind. As he would never be able to pretend it wasn’t happening with him, to ignore those pesky feelings ever again.

And as soon as he felt it, he abruptly took his distance from it. Pulling his arm from her reach, expression changing from passive to guarded, looking away from her surprised and hurt eyes, before cleaning his throat and deciding it was best for them to turn in for the night. Away from each other. 

The damage was done.

It has been a month since he started avoiding her, everyone in the ship can tell. Till that fatidical day, they were like two celestial bodies who constantly orbited each other’s space, now it was as if the mere presence of the doctor around a room were enough to repel the man back to his private quarter - in which he was taking refuge from inquiring eyes. Only the oldest crew was ever allowed to enter for reports and emergency matters, and even then they would always leave with a heavy frown and no answers to their captain’s strange behavior.

It was taking a toll on the crew as well, whenever someone walked by him with a smile and a polite face, only to be met with his flaring temper and moodiness, in which no one could ever understand why. Many tried to question the woman, to no avail, as she had no idea of what was happening either, he had just closed himself off from the world, and as an understanding person, she was trying to give him space to work it out with himself. 

But damn, she missed him. And if she only knew how much he was yearning for her, fighting against his deepest fears, trying to escape the confinement of his walls, causing all these explosive and melancholic sentiments to surface. It was maddening. He wanted to be rational about it - perhaps tell her to leave, but not wanting to ever live without her, ever again.

After two months, he felt like ripping the hair from his scalp. It was like her presence was just becoming stronger in the walls of the Polar Tang, he could hear her melodic laugh from anywhere, could smell her perfume everywhere, taste her hand in the food Bepo would bring to his room - she knew how to make it exactly how he liked. 

He couldn’t just give in. Too prideful, too committed to his work and chosen fate, too scared. So scared. What if he gave in? A pirate taking a lover was unheard of, and those who did would just live in a constant state of paranoia, not knowing when their enemies would find out about the weakness of their heart. Because that's what it was. A Weakness. Or at least that's what he kept telling himself. He would lose her, and that would be enough to break the last amended piece keeping his sanity intact. 

Just need to wait it out…. It shall pass, he tried to rationalize. 

After three months, it was her turn to be done with his behavior. She came to his room one day, with the excuse of bringing his favorite snacks, ignoring the warning glare thrown to her form. At this point, that was just typical behavior from the young surgeon. 

He was going to talk about this, or he was going to tell her to leave, because no matter how much she cried from the yearning of his presence and the confusion of not knowing what was really happening between them, she was also a prideful woman, and she was just as much done with suffering for a person she barely knew, even if she opened her own walls to receive him, she could just as much close it if prompted.

“So, are we going to talk about this - or you’ll keep pretending I don’t know you are avoiding me like I have the plague?” 

Oh, how infuriating she was. Snarky, sarcastic, annoying, fucking gorgeous. For a long second, he could only sharp his gaze, his expression taking a note of fury, wanting to tell her to back off. Like a cornered wild animal would. But he was no mindless animal, and her stance above his sitting form did not change one bit, like she knew the power she held over him. He could never truly hurt this woman.

Taking a breath, reclining his posture back in his chair, he schooled his expression back into a blank unamused glare, before answering. “It’s not something I wish to discuss. If it bothers you, that’s your problem, not mine.”

He could see how it immediately affected her, and it affected him as well. Her eyes widened, like she didn’t expect to be blatantly rejected, not after all the time they had been together as colleagues and partners - as friends. Her posture went rigid, like struggling with herself to have strength to fight back, to fight back the tears threatening to escape, and he could feel his heart constricting with the instinct of reaching out and taking her in his arms, protective of her - even if he was the one instigating those emotions in her heart. Her beautiful heart, who did not deserve to be treated that way, who should have left the moment it met with a heartless being like himself. If only he was selfless enough to tell her to run and never look back.

“Fine,” she managed to say, between a difficult breath, “If that’s what you wish, I will pretend we were never friends, then.” And with that resolution, she turned her wheels and left, closing the door with enough strength to be heard by anyone who was hoping for a good outcome from their meeting. And it was like all heart pirates, a few room away, collectively sighed defeated from it. 

That night, she wasn’t the only one who cried in her pillow.

It wasn't long after that night, when the heart pirates came to a new inhabited island, looking to resupply for a longer ride. It was a breath of fresh air, to not be stuck inside a submarine with the stubborn couple of bulls, hitting their head against each other, glaring from their corner, making everyone’s life miserable. 

And it came to no surprise that Eliza was the first one to be out, the moment the Tang submerged and ported, ready to use her energy to work and actively ignore Law’s existence for the few days or weeks that they kept anchored in the island. Hell, it might be a month before anyone is ready to leave and go back to the uncomfortable feeling. It came to a collective agreement that they better take their time away from the ship while they could, as long as the Captain didn’t catch on it.

And he did catch on it, around day five. Every supplement needed was reestablished, but no one seemed to be in a rush to go back to the next adventure, and the Island wasn’t even that impressive to keep them around, just a small village with enough entertainment for a day or two. 

“Penguin. What do you all think you are doing?” He would ask that day, after spotting the man lazily sunbathing in the ship’s deck, earning a long-suffered groan from his crewmate. From all the years that he was loyal to his captain and so-called friend, it was one of the first times where he truly wished the man could take a hint and work on his own problems. 

“What do you mean, Captain? We are taking one day to relax, you should too!” He said, but what he really wanted to express with that was: and please make amends with your lady friend, you are being a problematic asshole, she is so nice to you and everyone else, why are you acting like that? Are you having relationship problems or something? I know you have no experience, but anyone would be able to work it out after three whole months. But again, he did know his long-time leader from the inside out, pointing out anything obvious to him would just aggravate the situation, and chances were, he already knew he was being difficult.

Trafalgar Law from his part, only rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, accepting it. Because he was not stupid, truly, he could tell how much it was heaving on his crew, his little squabble with the second tribulation’s doctor. And perhaps he did needed a break, not only from his work, but from all the drama he created for himself. 

So, hugging Kikoku close to his body, he left to find a distraction.

As it has been happening the entirety of this particular year, it seemed fate was against his plans of finding a peace of mind. 

Walking into a secluded inn bar, believing to be a refuge from the busy streets, the last thing the pirate expected to find was the object of his affections and anguish, sitting with her back turned to the door, fully engrossed in a discussion with another man. Not that he immediately paid attention to said man, but the way the other had his knee so close to his crewmate’s barely covered (deliciously voluptuous) thigh, while they both animatedly chatted, was enough to catch his scrutiny.

It was a bad idea to stay, he knew that, but he couldn’t help his primal instinct of protection to grab a hold of his brain, as he cared for this woman enough to keep an eye on possible harassment towards his crewmate. Right? At least that was what he kept telling himself, silently making his way towards a shadowy booth, sharp gaze focused on the scene before him.

There was an irritation growing inside him, a hand squeezing the pit of his stomach, making his hands clench under the table, for the mere thought of how adorable she looked gesticulating about a subject he couldn’t hear. It was him, a few months ago, who she would look after to share information and discoveries, it was him she would look with those big doe eyes, shining with excitement while she rambled away about something so new and interesting, she couldn’t help but have to share with someone willing to listen. 

And now he had shut her off, made her look for another person to give half the attention he had always been willing to offer, always enchanted by her intellect, but if he was a little more honest with himself, it was the way she’d seek him first. Holding him important enough to share her thoughts and confide her life with. Someone else having the same treatment was truly infuriating. 

But not only that, he could tell by the way the other man melted his entire posture towards her, he was very much interested in her beyond an intellectual stimulation. Only a few minutes of observation, and the Captain of the Heart Pirates was gritting his teeth, emotional brain rapidly winning over his logical responses to she’s not yours, never was, never will. Get yourself together. She didn’t seem bothered at all, either choosing to ignore or interested in what that man had to offer as well. 

His rational side was telling him to leave at this point, and he couldn't agree more to it. Sliding himself away from his seat, ready to ignore this whole encounter, before something caught his auditive senses, making his entire body go rigid. She laughed. That melodious and gorgeous sound, that he only ever heard during their shared times, alone in his office, talking about foolish memories and happier times.

In one shaky breath, heart hurting enough to suffocate, he turned back around, stalking his way towards the couple, stopping a foot from their forms, eyes blazing with quiet fury, but a placid expression of masked anger. She had only spinned around in her chair, before his gravy tone could be heard. “We need to talk. Come.” And he was leaving the establishment, not waiting for an answer, knowing she would follow anyway, as he was not only willing to speak about their problems, but he was her commanding figure in the hierarchy of their crew.

The quiet walk back to the was tense, even if he did slow his pace for her to keep the pace, aware of his long legs and more fit build to walk quickly compared to hers. He could feel her enragement and furious glare hitting the back of his head, but his mind was only filled with how he would go about this. 

Should he ask her to leave? She never truly wanted to join a pirate crew, their deal being about giving a space for her to work her medical research, be free to explore the islands they ported, to use her abilities to heal the people in need, in exchange, she’d use all her abilities to protect and treat the crew. 

But he didn’t think he could be that cruel nor that self centered with her, knowing she had no one prior to the heart pirates, who quickly became a found family of sorts to the female doctor. 

Walking through the deck, ignoring the questioning gazes, he went straight to his office, already planning to lie through his teeth to save himself from the situation he found himself into, pretend he was just saving her from an unfortunate encounter with someone she didn’t really wish to be around, he was too flirty, not interested in her as a intellectual partner, just a pass time. 

Perhaps come with terms of coming back to their somewhat friendship, with a level of boundaries around being too close and too personal, those feelings of desire would come to an end eventually, more hormones of his young blood, than actual wish for a relationship with someone who could make him happy. He didn’t wish for that kind of happiness, after all.

But before he could open his mouth, sitting in his chair, to gaze up to meet hers, she was already speaking, arms crossed over each other, face contorted in one of resolve and grief. “Law, perhaps I should leave this crew.”

And with just that, something he did thought about asking of her all this time, she broke his pathetic illusion of being fine with her leaving this ship, this crew, her leaving him. 

He could hear her speaking, lips moving around an explanation of why it was reasonable for her to find a different way of traveling, as this tension was hurting the ship’s crew morale. He had the feeling that she was nervously rambling, looking for him to give an answer to her plans, but all he could do was stare back, mind fogging and words turning too confusing for his understanding, slight sensation of disconnecting his mind from the harsh reality of She will leave me. She will actually leave me.

Why did it hurt so much? How could she hold such a tight grip around his heart? When did he allow this to happen? Was him that weak?

“LAW! Are you even listening to me? Please!” Came a distinct voice, in the middle of the chaos of his mind. He might be panicking, the medic on him was saying, his cardiac frequency was too loud, he could feel his entire body tingling, legs too weak to answer, he was going mad. 

But what made it more maddening, was the idea of never seeing her again, never hearing her eyes shining with excitement, never hearing her amused smile to one of his witty remarks, to never again gaze at this person who turned his days brighter by existing and knowing she was safe as long as he lived. It was like she could take all his breath away with one realization, and it was certainly not pleasant.

Licking his increasingly drying lips, he tried to focus back in reality, understanding of the situation coming back to him, she was asking for his opinion, she wasn’t leaving yet. “You can’t.” Was what he could come off as an answer, with the turmoil happening inside his being.

“What do you mean I can’t?”

“You… I- Just. Don’t.” He could hear his breath quicking, and she seemed too, medical trained eyes sharpening on his form, advancing in his direction like one would a hounded animal - and he despised her for it. How easily she could read him, how open and vulnerable she made him. 

But he also came to realize, those feelings would never leave him, ever again. Her love crawled her way through his defenses, climbed his colossal walls made of years of traumatic experiences, and reached his closed icy cold heart. He wanted to hate her for it, make her stop, tell her off, let him be comfortable with his loneliness once again, but when she looked back at him with those warmhearted eyes of hers, reached both hands to gently graze his tattooed ones, soothingly asking if he was feeling well… He could only give all of himself to her.

Both arms shooting up to bring her body closer, head dropping to her shoulder, trying to hide the shameful sob tearing itself from his throat, body entirely shaking in a full panic attack triggered by all the experiences he had lived so far. For a moment he was back into the child he once was, an orphan, lost, utterly lonely, rejected by all.

His pride in shambles, broken mind taking over his more rational being, the only solace in the hands caressing his hair, the weight sitting on his lap - as he made her lose her foot with the surprise. But she didn’t mind, she loved this foolish broken man, even if he never bothered to ask. 

She would hold and love him for the rest of their life, if only he allowed it. 

“Breath, Law. Can you hear my voice, dearest? Breath with me.”

A few minutes of caressing his hair locks, firmly holding him toward her soft body, soothing whispering to his reachable ear, and the breath started to settle into a more even rhythm, the sobs that wrecked his body, turning into soft exhales, but the arms around her only tightened, like she would run away the moment he came back to his senses. 

It was devastating to see such a strong and resilient man breaking apart, never once expressing his feelings so openly before, all those years of suffering on his own breaking like a torrent of guarded anguish, pouring down from every pore, making his body weak and tired. But if anyone should’ve seen it, he was glad it was her. 

There was no judgment, no pitiful gaze, no questions to be answered, only a warm body and hands resting against damp cheeks, forcing his tired eyes to gaze back at an adoring expression, already grasping the situation at hand. “Law, don’t suffer on your own anymore. You don’t need to keep your thoughts to yourself, you are only hurting yourself.” She kept on, smiling with fondness. “I understand it’s hard to trust, to allow yourself to give in to strange feelings, but I will only leave you if you wish for me to. Ok? I promise, I want to stay and hear all that goes inside your head, I want to protect you as much as you've been protecting me. Would you let me do that?”

A hesitant nod. A progress, or an emotional response of someone who was just so tired of fighting back, so afraid of losing what he had been building, so hopeful of what it could mean to give in and embrace the sun. Either way, acceptance in the way his head fell back to her body, resting against her ample bosom, focused on the way the rhythm of her heart lulled him back to a better reality. He knew from that moment, he would try to improve himself, if it meant she would keep kissing the top of his head like this, caressing his back and humming a foreign lullaby to calm his raging heart. He could love her fully, if it always felt like this safe haven. And perhaps there was hope, if she was the one who held his heart.

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x oc #trafalgar law angst #first OP fic in here? #dividers by cafekitsune #i guess can be read as law x reader too #rage writes

[dancingtotuyo]

3. pick up your clothes and curl your toes

Woman | Joel Miller

Series Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel settle into a routine.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (Reader is 42, Joel is 56). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: swearing, talks of & references to grief, death (child and spouse), and suicide. Anxiety. Reader has a panic attack. consumption of alcohol. Angst. Hurt. Comfort. SMUT. Explicit sex (P in V). Unprotected sex. Oral Sex (F receiving). Let me know if I missed anything.

Note: THANK YOU TO MY BEAUTIFUL BETA READERS @planet-marz1 @pamasaur & @kajashe

Words: 8926

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND IS INTENDED FOR READERS 18 YEARS AND OLDER. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT OR READ.

Joel Miller is going to hell in a handbasket. He already was, but this is the seal on the envelope, the pretty red ribbon tied neatly around it. He felt relieved that your husband is dead. What kind of person feels relief over someone’s misfortune? Their grief? A bad one. A person headed straight for the gates of hell. 

He lets out a huff of air, staring at the spinning ceiling fan. He tries not to think of you across the street, laying in bed in that fucking matching pajama set, but with most things the harder you try not to think of them, the more it’s at the forefront of your mind. The picture of your legs in those shorts jumps to his mind. He remembers those fleeting charged moments from tonight. Desire stirs in his gut drifting downward. 

He groans, flipping onto his stomach. He buries his head in the twenty-something-year-old pillow as he takes deep steadying breaths. He won’t do this. It can’t happen. You’re a friend. A connection to the past. A connection to his Sarah. He’s not gonna fuck that up. 

He falls asleep definitely not thinking of you and that fucking pajama set. Pictures of you definitely don’t invade his dreams. Joel Miller can only see you as a friend, and friends don’t do the things he does to you behind his eyelids. 

The next evening, Joel finds himself hardly waiting on his steps, worried he missed you until you step out tonight in jeans and a sweater. For that, he’s all too grateful. A smile stretches across your face. He stands his lips tipping upward as he meets you in the middle of the road once again. 

“Howdy, neighbor,” Joel says. 

You push back the small shiver that runs down your spine. You chalk it up to the lower temperatures. “Look at you, adjusting to the Jackson way of life.”

“Learnin from the best, Sweetheart.”

The chills hit again and you chalk it up to the chill. Spring is breaking through, but winter still clings to the darkening air. You settle in your route. The crunch of Joel’s steps is familiar next to you, comforting even in the silence between the two of you. 

It’s Joel who speaks first tonight. “It’s weird,” he says. He’s more eager to talk tonight.  “Being here- safe. I keep expectin’ raiders to ride in or infected to pop out.” He looks over at a small cluster of trees. 

“It takes a long time.” You watch the sun creep down, closing the gap between it and the mountain tops. “I’m not sure when it happened but one morning I just realized I’d stopped looking over my shoulder or listening for footsteps.” 

“It happens though?” He asks. You catch a glimmer of hope in his eyes. It barely peeks through the weariness he wears like a badge. 

“Eventually.”

“Not that I ever thought it was an option, but I’m not sure I wanted to find peace- to be still like this again.”

You cock your head to the side, but you don’t have to shed a word for him to tell you more. 

“Spending life on the run was easy. Always lookin’ toward the next haul, the next run. Didn’t leave any time for thinking.”

You nod. You understand from the other side. You lived alone for years, wild, haunted by your friends, rattling around an empty house with only your thoughts and memories. Somehow, you’d found peace here, a family even. 

“What about now?” You ask. 

On good days, you can push back the when of it all. When will the world take another person from you in a new way crueler than the last? When will your son’s innocence be stripped away? When will it be you who’s taken? On the bad days, you shut yourself in your room, only to be dragged out by Carter’s small voice or Maria cooking in your kitchen. Today is an especially good day. 

Joel studies the horizon. He takes in a hawk riding the air currents. It all mingles together in his chest: the grief, the joy, the pain, the acceptance. It’s hard to put words to it. “It still hurts. Can’t even say it hurts less… but I don’t fight it anymore. I think making room for someone else helped.” 

You bite your lip. A pang shoots through your heart. You fight to push the door to your heart closed. You can allow him to exist in your life, but anything more than neighbors is too much. You think you feel the door latch, but you don’t catch Joel’s foot wedged in the door jam. 

“How did you and Ellie cross paths?”

Joel spends the rest of your walk recounting his and Ellie’s adventures across the United States. You find yourself hanging on every description. You didn’t travel a lot before the world ended. Your parents had been die-hard Texans. You weren’t sure your dad had left state lines before meeting your mom. There were the yearly trips to your grandparents' house in the mountains surrounding Jackson, one trip to Disney World in 8th grade, and you’d gone to Mexico for spring break your junior year of college. That encapsulated your traveling days. 

After Joel tells you about Silver Lake, he stops in his tracks. You look back at him. He’s staring at the darkening horizon again. His eyes gloss over. “When things like that happen- I find myself relieved that she’s not here- that she doesn’t have to go through it- do all the shit we do.”

You suck in a breath. In some ways you understand it. As a parent who willingly brought a child into this world, you often wonder if it was the right choice or just a selfish one. You nod. 

“And then I feel guilty all over again. Because I would give anything to have her next to me, and see her smile. I mean, what kind of parent is relieved their child isn’t alive?” 

You give the words a minute to roll through your head. You’re not sure of the best words because there really are none, but you pull from your own experience. 

“I think that’s the reality of being a parent in this world. You feel guilty if they’re here because the world is fucked up, but you feel guilty if you’re relieved they’re not.”

Joel makes eye contact with you. “Bein’ around you makes me feel closer to her.” 

Joel is not sure where the confession comes from. He barely talked to you before last night and hasn’t seen your face in 20 years, yet the words just slip out. Something in him says you’re safe and he thinks maybe, he might just have room for you too. The air between you charges like it did the night before.

It sends a hum of electricity through your veins. It’s one you recognize all too well. It feels good and exciting, the thrum of desire, but it’s dangerous. It’s something you cannot afford. You look away, breaking the connection, but mellowing currents still wrack over your body in waves.

“You raised a really great kid, Joel.” You force a smile. ��and the world fucking sucks.” You kick at the dirt as everyone’s faces flash behind your eyes. 

“You helped.” 

Your head snaps back up, confusion on your brow. “I doubt that.”

“It’s true.” The memories flood to the surface- the ones you forget exist in the depths of your mind drowned by years of survival and trauma. “You helped her with all that stuff I was too awkward to boys, her period, shopping for her 7th grade banquet. I would’ve sent her in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.”

“I don’t think Sarah would’ve let you do that.” You manage a laugh. You appreciate Joel’s attempts to make you feel better even when he’s hurting. There’s a beauty to the way sadness and laughter coexist in the space the two of you create. 

Joel shrugs. “I’m just saying, you helped. A lot. Even if you don’t realize it.” 

“You should give yourself more credit.”

“So should you,” he says, eyebrows raising. 

You fight against the smile that wants to sprout on your face. He’s just as stubborn as you remember and probably more. 

As your walk draws to an end, you find yourself searching for anything to draw it out. You watch him walk up his porch steps, desperate to keep him in the street with you but his door shuts before you find the words. 

Joel joins you the next night and the night after that, and the night after that it rains. You catch the disappointment, trying to let it go. Carter won’t settle, too intent on watching the rain hit the window. After 30 minutes, you give up, pulling a light sweatshirt over his head. 

“You wanna sit out on the porch?”

Carter nods and you kiss his forehead. You see the sleepiness in his eyes, but you don’t have the energy to force him to sleep tonight. He grabs his two toy cars following behind you. You pull the blanket off the couch, opening the front door. 

“Oh my god.” You jump, heart rate spiking for a second. Carter runs into the back of your legs, promptly falling to his bottom. 

Joel Miller stands in front of you with a sheepish look on his face. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You turn around, picking your toddler off the floor. “You just hanging around on stranger’s porches now?” A grin starts to crowd the edges of your smile. 

“I’d hardly call you a stranger, Sweetheart.” Joel grins. 

That familiar feeling begins to seep through your chest, making you feel like a college student and not a woman in her 40s. Before it can completely overtake you, you push it down, clearing your throat. 

“I don’t think you’ve gotten the chance to meet Carter yet.” You nod toward your son.

Carter waves. “Hi.”

Joel smiles back at him. “Nice to meet you, little man.”

Carter holds out his toy cars for Joel to admire. Joel’s eyes glance over the faded and chipped paint of the old Hotwheels. “Those are very nice.” 

Carter looks toward you with a big grin. He’s a kid of few words but big expressions. You smile back with a nod and he slides out of your arms.

“He wouldn’t go to sleep so we came out to watch the rain.” You hesitate a minute, but the pull of Joel’s familiarity wins out. “You’re welcome to join us. The porch swing is a little rickety, but it does the trick.”

“I was hoping you’d want some company.” Joel pulls a bottle of dark liquor from under his arm. You notice his rain-damp hair and shoulders for the first time. A few droplets slide down his curls.

“You getting used to me, Joel Miller?”

“You could say that.” He cocks his head to the side, smirk playing on his lips. 

You turn your head so he doesn’t catch your own grin, but he does anyway. Spreading the blanket on the porch for Carter to play on, you disappear inside grabbing a couple of glasses. 

When you come back, Joel is on his hands and knees with Carter, both making race car noises with their lips. It knocks the wind from you, and you brace against the door frame. You’d imagined this lost moment a thousand times. Sometimes you swore you could see Gabe sitting on the floor with Carter, the proudest smile on his face, but this is real and it’s not Gabe. 

Carter makes a screeching noise, learning them from some racing movie they showed a few weeks ago, crashing his car into Joel’s. Joel makes his cart flip over and combust into flames. Carter laughs. There’s a piece of your heart that seems to mend, and another that seems to break. Gabe feels further away, a more distant past. Yet, you’re focused on what’s in front of you. 

When Joel catches you watching, he smiles, says something to Carter, and rises to his feet. It feels like a scene from a movie where you don’t hear anything, but the single look is the most significant part. 

Joel says something, taking the glasses from your hands. His lips move but you don’t hear him. His back is turned before you realize it, shaking your head to wake up your senses. “Sorry- what did you say?”

Joel chuckles, pouring a couple of fingers of whiskey into each glass. He hands one to you. “I said, I’m getting too old to get on the ground like that.”

You accept the glass, letting the liquid warm you. This feels so easy, too easy. It sends warning bells through your head, but you don’t want to deal with them. They're too easy to push away in Joel’s familiar presence. 

“You didn’t have to.” You move to the end of your porch, easing onto the swing. 

Joel’s eyes inspect the old swing with years of training before he decides it will hold for one night and settles next to you. “Nah- it was fun. I haven’t played cars in a long time.” 

You take a sip of the whiskey to hide your grin. 

“He doesn’t look a thing like you.” Joel teases. 

“Spitting image of his father.” You laugh. “Gabe always said his genetics would win out. I can only imagine the gloating I would’ve heard from him.” 

“He never knew him?”

You shake your head. “Gabe was infected while out on patrol when I was 7 months pregnant.” 

You leave it at that. You don’t expound on one of the darkest times of your life, and Joel doesn’t ask. He’s being trained for patrol now. He knows a bite earns you a bullet in the head and your body burnt to a crisp. You sip from the glass, taking a little too much whiskey. It burns away the tears. 

“I don’t know how you did it,” Joel says. You turn to meet his gaze, eyebrows raised. “Survive out here all those years alone. I wouldn’t have made it.”

“You did.”

Joel shakes his head. “No, I had Tommy and some friends along the way. And that almo- it wasn’t enough.” 

He turns away subconsciously presenting his profile. You catch the scar on his temple. You’d never given it much stock until now. It hits you like a brick to the chest. Your fingers drift toward it, brushing over the old wound. 

“After Sarah died- I didn’t see much point in going on.” His eyes land on yours again. Your fingers stay. “I flinched when I pulled the trigger. Missed”

He searches your eyes for judgment but finds none. He’s certain all he finds is understanding, a silent assurance that you know that hopeless feeling too. 

Your fingers edge toward his hairline. The rain seems to fall heavier around you, creating a mist under the overhang, but it all seems far away with Joel Miller right in front of you. You’re both still, scared to spook the other, waiting for a sign you refuse to give yourself. 

“Joel!” Clumsy footsteps clamber up the wooden steps to your home. Ellie appears with a lopsided grin and soaked hair. “You’ll never guess what I traded for, morherfucker.”

The tension snaps away until nothing. The space on the porch swing is seemingly greater than ever. 

Joel raises an eyebrow at her, arms crossed over his chest. 

Carter looks up at the intruder, taking stock before returning his attention to his cars. 

“Oh, what? Did I interrupt something?” 

“No,” you say, possibly too fast. You don’t leave time to consider what was potentially interrupted. You latch on to Ellie’s joy instead. “What did you get?” You ease back, casting Joel a teasing look. He doesn’t look your way this time.

“I knew I liked you, Nurse… er- Lady.”

Joel opens his mouth to supply your name but you beat him to it. “That’s me, Nurse Lady.” 

Carter points at you. “Mommy.”

Ellie looks you dead in the eye. “I’m not calling you that.” 

You laugh. 

“What did you get, Ellie?” Joel asks, a little more give in his frame than a few seconds ago. 

Ellie pulls a big, atlas-looking book from under her damp sweatshirt. “It’s pictures of space! Ones I haven’t seen before!” 

“Space?” Carter’s head shoots up and a smile spreads across your face. 

“Yeah!” Ellie exclaims, opening the book toward him. “See! Isn’t it cool?”

Carter ventures toward the new person carrying a book of great interest to him. “You like space too?”

He nods, watching with wide eyes for a few more pages, and then grabs Ellie’s hand, pulling her toward his blanket. “Sit.”

She listens and Carter climbs into her lap. “More.”

Ellie laughs. “Sure thing, bud.”

You go to tell Ellie that she doesn’t have to listen to the two-year-old. She can take her book home and enjoy it in peace, but you stop yourself. Something tells you that Ellie wouldn’t stay if she didn’t want to. She reads the words in the book with the same fascination that shines in Carter's young eyes until he falls asleep. 

Joel stays next to you, the swing creaking rhythmically, the moment hidden away from the rest of Jackson by the cover of rain and a setting sun. 

You and Joel go back to walking the next evening. 

A couple of days later, Maria sits at your kitchen table when you come in from your walk with Joel. A steaming cup of tea sits in front of her and another caddy corner from her. You furrow your brow. The last time she’d greeted you with tea was when she told you she was pregnant. This welcome was usually reserved for serious conversations. 

“Carter wake up?” You slide into the chair, taking the mug into your hands. 

“No, just wanted to talk to you. It’s been a couple of days.” She eases back, hand resting atop her swollen stomach. 

“I saw you at the clinic this morning.” You raise an eyebrow.

Now 7 months pregnant, you’ve monitored Maria and the baby closely. Tommy and Maria are so excited. You see it in their eyes every time it comes up. You’re trying your hardest not to let your fears cloud it, but you won’t be able to make it if something happens to Maria. 

“We haven’t really talked though. Not since Sunday at dinner and Tommy has the guys over for Poker tonight.”

“You miss me after 3 days? I thought I was the codependent one.” You smile up at her with a laugh.

Gabe would have called it a sparkly smile. Maria clocks it immediately, and it stays, lingering across your features. She gasps. She’s seen nothing but glimpses and flickers of it since his death and now here it is on full display.

“Did I grow a third head or something?” 

“No, just haven’t seen you like this in a while.”

“Like what?”

“Happy, Smiling.” Maria tilts her head to the side. “I thought I was imagining it this morning. Tommy mentioned it too.” 

“I smile.”

“Not the sparkly kind.”

You pause, heart clenching at the thought. You know it’s what Gabe would have wanted. He loved your sparkly smile- given it its name. It feels like it should feel wrong for someone else to bring that out of you, but it doesn’t. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy. 

“This have anything to do with your new walking partner?” Maria says over the lip of her mug. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You feign innocence, looking out the window. Joel’s porch light glows across the road. Your wedding band is cool against your fingertips as you twist it. A smile pushes against the borders of your lips. 

“You act like your route doesn’t cut directly through town and past everyone’s houses 3 times.” 

“We just walk together, Maria.” 

She raises a suggestive eyebrow. 

You roll your eyes. “Just walking.”

“More than walking is okay too.”

You cross your arms. “I thought you didn’t like Joel. It was all I heard about after he came through the first time.”

“He’s my brother-in-law. I have to try.” Maria bites her lip. “And he grows on you.”

You sigh trying to push away the thoughts that crowd your restless mind. Your attachment to him is beginning to feel inevitable like you never stood a chance because it had always been there. A holdover from before. It reminds you of the way you and Tommy bonded when he came to Jackson, that invisible tug from a former life tying you together, but there is something different with Joel. The all-encompassing crush from your early ears creeps up like a blush. You won’t say it lingered, but you know something is forming now as much as you try to ignore it. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“This,” you motion around you. “Building a life with someone just for the world to rip it all away.”

“That’s not-“

“Not what, Maria? You know it will happen.”

“Might not.”

“Might happen tomorrow.” You square your shoulders. Joel goes on patrol for the first time tomorrow. It’s a short shift for him to get the lay of the land, but so was Gabe’s. you’re terrified, and you’re terrified to admit you’re terrified. 

She stares into your eyes with a still determination searching for any cracks to slip through as your impenetrable walls rise back up. All evidence of the sparkly smile is gone, erased from your face. Maria sighs, slowly rising to her feet, her cup of tea dried up. 

The two of you say nothing as she moves about your kitchen with easy familiarity. She’s moving slower these days and for good reason. It eases your anxiety to know that she’s listening to you in that department. 

She sets her cleaned mug on the dish wrack, drying her hands with a towel. You sip on your tea letting it warm you from within. It does nothing to ease your racing mind. 

Maria’s firm, caring touch lands on your shoulder, drawing your attention up toward her. You know she can see it behind your eyes. It’s that same wild look she saw in you when she met you. You can only hold her gaze for so long until you have to look away. She can see too much in you. 

Maria squeezes your shoulder. Her hands slide around your shoulders as she pulls your reluctant frame closer to her. She’s warm and comforting like a well-worn sweater. When her warm breath hits your temple followed by the soft kiss of a concerned parent or older sibling, you let your eyes flutter shut and inhale deeply. Your body relaxes as your sympathetic nervous system accepts the easy pressure of her embrace and your mind seems a little more quiet. You lean to the side, temple pressed to your best friend’s forehead. 

“I’ll see you at Sunday Dinner,” Maria says. She’s using her soothing mom voice, and it works. 

“Okay.”

She gives one more squeeze before releasing you. Your hands wrap back around the mug, searching for the warmth you lost. 

Maria grabs her coat. “Oh, I invited Joel and Ellie too.”

You snap your head around. Maria wears a knowing grin but gives you a shrug. “They’re family now.” 

You roll your eyes. Maria’s laugh is the last thing you hear before the front door clicks behind her. Silence falls over your home. When a tear falls from your eye, you swipe it away, stuffing down all the feelings rising to the surface. 

The next evening, Joel isn’t on his porch when you come out. The worry you’ve pushed down all day bubbles over before you can stop it. Your heart beats in your ears as you stare at Joel’s front door, hoping, praying it opens. In the minutes you watch for him, you beg the world for a sign that Joel is okay, nothing happens. The house is still with no signs of life. 

Anticipation melts to dread. They haven’t gotten back yet. That can only mean bad things. The same resolve hits you over and over. You can’t let this happen, not again. Stepping into the street, you try to go on as usual. Same path. Same pace, but the further you get from his front porch, the more you fight against the tug pulling you toward it- toward him. It wraps tight up your ankle like a vine. You think you can snap it with enough force and distance. 

Instead, it climbs your leg further, piercing through your stomach. It constricts around your lungs like a snake and its branches encircle your heart. Your breathing quickens and shortens until you can’t see more than 2 feet in front of you. You can’t do this. Can’t let this happen. Your fingers bite into a tree as you stumble forward, grasping for stability. Bark digs under your fingernails. A sob releases from your throat, the one that sounds otherworldly but you’re all too familiar with, and you realize it’s tears that blind you because you refuse to give the world another person to tear from your arms, yet you fear you already have. 

A warm hand lands on your back. You whip around in a fury of tears and ragged breathing. He recognizes it instantly. It’s the same look he used to see every time he looked in the mirror. He sucks in a breath and takes a step back. 

You think the space will make it easier to breathe, but the panic sets in deeper. You don’t want him to go. It’s not fair. You thought you were stronger, but it only took days for Joel Miller to demolish the walls you worked so desperately to build. He had pinpointed the weakness in them as if he’d built them himself and came in swinging. 

Your hand shoots out, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. You’re a dear in the headlights, unsure if you should flee for your safety or stay and get hit by what’s coming. 

Joel’s hand slowly covers yours. It’s warm. It settles your breathing. His heart beats under your palm a little faster than his calm demeanor lets on. 

You sniff back the tears. You realize you were so focused on the traps underfoot that you didn’t realize you walked right into the mouth of one from the very beginning. The moment you leaned into Joel’s familiarity, it snapped shut with no way out. Joel cautiously reaches out, swiping away the tears on one cheek. When you don’t shy away from his touch, he wipes away the others.

It’s a spacious trap. There’s room to roam around. You don’t feel confined, and Joel is in it with you. 

“I don’t have to walk with ya tonight.” His voice is quiet. His eyes are soft and understanding. “I understand if you need some space.” 

Despite offering you space, he squeezes your hand tighter and leans in, and godamnit, you like it. 

“No.” You shake your head. “Stay. I like the company.” 

His brow furrows. “You sure, Sweetheart?” 

“Yeah.” You nod. His shirt eases back around his chest now crinkled from your grip, but your hand stays. “Believe it or not, I enjoy having you around.” 

You force a smile. 

“Yeah…” He smiles softly. “Me too.” He takes a step backward. You ignore the soft pang in your chest at the increased distance. 

You and Joel settle back into the path as you have the past two nights, but he’s closer tonight. His shoulder brushes yours every so often. He keeps the conversation light. He doesn’t ask about your anxiety attack. 

At the end of your walk, Joel’s arm slides around your waist pulling you against his chest. Your breath catches as his other hand slides across your shoulder blades leaving a trail of fire behind it, landing at the base of your skull. He comes over you like a wave, heavy and disorienting when it hits but peaceful once it settles. Your eyes close, resting your head against his chest. 

His fingers knead slowly at your skull, releasing built-up tension. Sparks ignite low in your belly. You don’t try to extinguish them this time. 

“Sleep well, Sweetheart.” 

You swear you feel his lips on your forehead, but he’s gone before you have time to consider it further, back behind his door leaving you to wrestle with that moment all night. 

On Thursday morning, Joel works in the barn fixing the big swinging door when Tommy strides in. Joel is so focused on his craft, the long-forgotten feel of wood beneath his touch that he doesn’t catch the grin etched on his younger brother’s face. 

“What’s going on, big brother?” Tommy says with a prying tone.

“Can you hand me that hammer?” Joel says, sweat beading his forehead. 

Tommy chuckles, handing it to Joel. 

Joel turns an eye toward him. “You’re in a good mood.”

“A little birdie told me something.” 

Joel lifts an eyebrow. He doesn’t have time for Tommy’s antics. There’s a door to fix and he knows his brother gets more joy drawing things out. Joel does not. “What?”

“Oh come on- you have to guess.”

“Tommy, since when have I played along with your games?”

Tommy sighs. “Buzz kill.” 

Joel chuckles.

“Rumor has it, you’ve been walking around with a certain babysitter.”

Joel’s face falls stoic. “She’s not the babysitter anymore.” He sets down the tools with a sigh “What’s it to you?”

“Oh come on, Joel. Is that why she’s been smiling so much lately? You giving her a reason to smile?” Tommy grins.

Joel looks at Tommy through the corner of his eye. “You askin’ me if I’m fucking your dead buddy’s widow?”

It flashes across his face, the pain of losing someone so close before his smile is back in place. Joel doesn’t have time to feel bad for it. 

“Not to sound crass, but he’d be happy if you were.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Joel lets the tool drop to the ground, giving in to Tommy. 

Tommy sighs. “When I came to Jackson, she smiled all the time. Reminded me of when we’d get back from a job and she and Sarah were up to no good.” Joel’s nods. He’d felt the same pull toward you. “Gabe- he kept her smiling. I know we’ve all been through some dark shit, but she went at it alone. Since his death, her smiles have been few and far between ‘til now. He didn’t want her to go back to how she was before. Told Maria that much.”

“Maria?”

“Yeah, they were out on patrol together when he got infected.” 

Hit stomach hit the ground. If Maria was with Gabe when-  “Shit,” Joel breathes. “I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah…” Tommy says but doesn’t let the silence linger. Gabe’s demise is still a sore subject for him. “Gabe, all he wanted was for her to be happy, for her to smile. You’re doing that, and it’s a big deal.”

Joel hopes his brother doesn’t catch the stutter in his breathing, the way his thoughts drift back to you. He doesn’t need anyone’s permission. You’re grown adults, but it’s there. Gabe wanted you to be happy- they all want you to be happy and somehow, he’s one of the people that does that. Tommy’s not judging him at the possibility of being interested in a woman 13 years his junior. If anything, he’s encouraging it. Joel feels easier and lighter. In it all, he realizes just how much he wants you. 

The following evening, Joel is almost embarrassed at how quickly he clocks the missing gold band on your left knuckle. His mind races with possibilities. He knows you don’t wear it when you work at the clinic, but he hasn’t seen you without it outside of the clinic. Granted, the only time he’s noticed was on your walks. Did you forget it? His heart leaps a little. Did you do it on purpose? And you’re wearing those damn matching pajamas again. The same ones that got him here in the first place. 

There’s something in the air tonight. The hairs on his arms stand on end. He walks closer to you. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or make things weird, but the whole time his eyes keep drifting back to your bare knuckle. What does it mean? And he wants to know if you feel the same. 

He can't feel the way your skin burns, heat exploding like fireworks across your body blooming and fizzling one after another. You’re tempted to pull him off your beaten path early, dragging him in front of the whole town across your threshold after just the first lap, but you resist and spend the next lap wondering if he’s walking closer tonight, talking slower tonight. Even the timbre of his voice seems to change, conveying the burning need of desire. Still, you hesitate to confirm it. Maybe you’re wrong about it all. What if you’re wrong about it all? 

Joel follows you to your porch tonight. Maria’s suggestive remarks fill your brain. More than walking is okay. It puts out any doubts filling your head. You glance up at Joel, you read it in his expressive eyes. Eyes you’ve come to know so well. You’re fighting the fire blazing its way through your body with logic and reasoning. Neither is good at fighting fires, and your limbs burn with desire.

Joel waits at the bottom of your porch steps. You rest against the support beam watching him with a careful eye. 

He gives you an easy smile. “I enjoy our walks.”

He makes no moves toward or away from you. He’s leaving this in your hands. You’re not naive. Just sex in this world comes with its own set of risks. It requires trust in a world without STD testing, treatment, and contraceptives. You’re still well within childbearing age. Maria’s pregnancy is a constant reminder, but you trust Joel. You always have.

He stands at the bottom of your porch steps, hands in his pockets as you lean against the support beam. He’s staring at you with that look you’ve caught glimpses of this past week but it’s on full display now, burning into you like a raging wildfire. 

You tip your head up, catching a glimpse of the moon under the awning. A smile plays on your lips. You’re buzzing like you’ve spent the evening sipping on cocktails at the bar. “I shouldn’t tell you this- but here we are.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. “Tell me what?”

His voice is smooth and bold like a cup of morning coffee. You can taste it on your tongue- bitter but full of life. You laugh to cover up the embarrassment flooding to the surface, but you feel alive for the first time in a long time. You wonder if he’s seen the desire in your eyes too. You know it’s been there. You want him, and you intend to have him tonight.

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school and college.” 

Something about putting the words out there doesn’t seem as embarrassing as it did 5 seconds ago. You’re a grown-ass adult and that was 20 years ago. Joel chuckles and you join him again, laughing under the moonlight like he’s dropping you off after a first date and you’re playing with your keys. 

Joel’s boots hit the first step, hand gliding over the worn railing. “You did? Must’ve done a damn good job at hiding it.”

“Or maybe you were just blinder than a bat.” 

“Were you trying to make moves on me then?” Joel comes up the second step. His body heat is just out of reach. 

“No. Wouldn’t have been appropriate. I knew that much.”

Joel rises to your level. You can smell him now- pine. It's one of the three scents you can trade for in this town. You didn’t imagine differently. Joel didn’t strike you as a Lavender or Lemon kind of guy. His hand rests above your head as he invades your space. You feel his body heat close in. You stand straighter, meeting his searing gaze. The air is thick between you as your breathing deepens. 

“And what about now? Would it be appropriate now?” 

His voice is low and husky. Just how you imagined it would be all those years ago, but you still catch the hesitancy in his eyes, the restraint pulling at his throat. It sets a fire burning across your skin.

You step back, ducking out of his space. You miss his proximity immediately. You catch the slight embarrassment that flashes across Joel’s face. He looks around nervously like he didn’t just read the situation completely wrong. You feel almost bad as your hand touches the door knob and you look back at him.

“Are you gonna come in?” You open the door. He looks relieved. “I think the neighbors are gonna talk, but I’d rather keep them talking than put on a show.”

You turn your back to him crossing the threshold. You try to calm your beating heart. His boots are heavy on the porch. Before you can comprehend it, the front door shuts. The hardwood presses against your back, and Joel’s hands rest against the door on either side of your head. You feel the heat radiating off him, but he doesn’t touch you. Your hands hang in fists at your side refusing to touch him first. You meet his wild gaze. 

He leans in and heat rushes through your body settling in your core. You squeeze your legs together and wonder if he catches it. You tilt your chin up to meet his lips. They come so close but circle just out of your reach. His hot breath hits your ear making your toes curl. You want to fuss at him. You almost do, but resist. You’re wet and he has yet to touch you. 

“Tell me this is okay. Tell me you want this.” He’s still hovering, refusing to touch you.

Your head turns to meet his gaze. He thinks he’s doing something wrong. “Joel, I’m a 43-year-old woman, not some naive-”

“Tell me.” There’s a force behind it, a desperation. 

You look at his eyes, blow wide with lust. It shortens your breath. Your limbs feel heavy with need.

“I want you.”

He surges forward, lips crashing into yours. Your teeth nash against each other, but you don’t care. Threading your fingers in his thick curls, you pull him closer, craving him. Desire pumps through every ounce of your being.

His hand settles over your hip slipping under your pajama shirt. Your nipples harden as his hand glides over your skin, going up until he cups your breast. His thumb circles over your clothed nipple and you gasp into his mouth. He smirks pressing you further into the door. Your leg instinctively hooks over his hip and his hard cock presses against your core. 

“Joel.” You moan, moving your hips against him.

A moan falls off his lips as he sucks on your bottom lip. “You’re killing me, Sweetheart.”

He moves to your neck. His fingers wrap around the back of your thigh guiding your other leg around his waist. He squeezes your breast again and your legs squeeze around him. He bucks into you. 

Your head falls back granting him further access to your neck. You need to be out of your clothes. You want Joel out of his. You don’t care if it’s here or in your bedroom or somewhere else. It needs to happen and it needs to happen soon. 

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt. There’s an urge to rip it open and let the buttons scatter across the floor like you’d seen in movies, but you don’t. Resource management is still essential even in the throws of passion. 

The first two pop open. He’s sucking on your neck, nipping like a herd dog. “You tryin' to mark me, Miller?” He pulls your Texas draw out like honey.

He doesn’t respond, teeth grazing your collarbone, making you gasp. His hips jut forward and his name rolls off your tongue. 

He pulls up your shirt, groaning when your sports bra comes into view. He’s not getting you out of that while you’re against the door. It’s like you can read his mind. “First door at the top of the steps.”

He glances up the staircase behind him. You think he’s gonna let your legs drop to the floor and drag you up the steps. Instead, his fingers dig into your ass. Before he can lift you away from the door, he realizes you’re not wearing underwear under your thin pajama shorts. 

“How long have you been walkin around without panties, Sweetheart?” His cock brushes over your core. You’re sure you’ve left a wet spot on his jeans by now. 

“How long have you known me?” It’s out of your mouth before you have time to think it through. Your cognitive function has been reduced to one goal: getting Joel Miller into your bed. 

Joel considers the implication. For a split second, you think it might make him bolt. Remind him that he knew you as a teenager, but he groans, leaving you putty in his calloused hands. He presses hot, open-mouth kisses on your neck. Your fingers tangle in his hair to keep his mouth on your flesh. His hands adjust under your ass and he’s carrying you up the steps. 

It doesn’t matter how fit survival made you, going up the steps with the extra weight of a toddler was hard enough, much less your entire body. It’s far from effortless on Joel’s part. He gives up on the third step. You applaud his efforts through your laugh. 

“Come on, old man.” You wink, dragging him behind you up the remaining stairs. 

“Who you calling old man?” He growls, crowding behind you. 

He kicks your bedroom door closed and you pray it doesn’t wake your sleeping child. 

You pull off your shirt. Joel backs you onto your soft mattress. Before you have a chance to catch up, his fingers are in the elastic of your flimsy pajama shorts sliding them down your legs in haste. Letting them fly across the room. Your bra joins them in quick succession. 

He’s crawling over you so slowly, eyes raking over your bare body as he does. You burn under his gaze and he’s still not touching you, not in all the places you crave. 

His jean-clad thighs push against yours, spreading your legs slowly. They’re rough against your thighs, but in the way you love. You reach up, allowing your fingers to play in his hair again. He pushes into your touch, eyes fluttering closed as his lips leave soft kisses over your palm. 

His hand starts on your hip. You push into his touch a soft moan vibrating in your throat as you bite your lip. You’ve always loved the feel of your hips being touched. He chuckles, sliding his hand up your sternum. He comes just under your breast before ghosting his fingers back down. He repeats the path but this time with his lip. They leave a fire burning across your body in their wake. You watch him under heavy lids and low hums. 

He doesn’t stop under your breasts this time. His tongue slips out as he makes it to your nipple, going over it with one smooth swipe. It pulls a sweet gasp from you. He repeats the process with your second breast. You roll your hips as his name rolls off your lips. 

He groans nipping up your chest again. Your hands roam up and down his back. You catch the faint catch of scarring every now and then, but it’s all a part of Joel. It tells his story and you’re a part of that now. If it’s just tonight, that’s fine. If it’s more- you won’t think about that. 

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, pulling you back into the here and now. He doesn’t slow down as he ascends your throat crawling higher and higher until his lips are on yours. Your fingers are in his hair. He slides his tongue into your mouth and his hand over your breast, tweaking your tight nipple every third interval. 

You push your pelvis against his. You’re slick and desperate for relief, and his jeans are still on. 

Joel chuckles, squeezing your breast as he devours your mouth. Your hands make their way down his chest to the fly of his pants. You pop open the button before Joel pulls back. You try to capture him again, but he slips away.

You want to whine and throw a temper tantrum. “Joel.” You fuss, pupils blown wide. 

He chuckles deeply. “I know, Sweetheart.” 

He brushes over your hips with his fingers dragging them down your thigh. Before you can spread your legs for him, he pushes your knees up revealing your slick cunt. 

You expect more teasing, for him to lean in and pull back right away, but he doesn’t. He leans in, nose running through your wet folds. You moan out his name trying desperately to get closer to him. 

His hand drags down your stomach, spreading your lips. He eased down again, dragging his tongue through on his second journey. 

Your moans grow louder. You tug on his curls. When he pulls your clit between his lips, your legs snap, trapping his head between your thighs. There’s a tug in your stomach. Joel continues to work the sensitive bundle over and over and over. Your pleas turn to encouragement until they’re no longer words at all. Please. Yes. Yes. More. More. More. The sounds marry together with your body, an extension of sensation until warmth spreads throughout like water soaking through a paper towel across your entire body in a crescendo long laid dormant. 

Joel works his way back up your body with hot opened mouth kisses as you pant, catching your breath. Your fingers brush across his back in smooth trails. He shivers against your touch. 

“So beautiful.”

Heat races toward your cheeks as if the previous minutes weren’t worthy of that. He smiles, dipping down to touch your lips. 

Your hands work toward his waistband. You shove his pants down as best you can. Joel tuts your name softly but helps in your pursuit. His pants and underwear fall to the floor, his cock standing tall. You ogle it like it’s water in the desert.  “Someone’s eager.”

“Wanna take care of you too.” You pant, still fighting for breath. 

Joel's head falls back. “Fuck, not to tonight, Sweetheart.” His hand tangles in your hair. 

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw and then another and another. “I’m not gonna last long tonight and I wanna make sure I get the chance to be inside you.”

It is the damn truth too. Joel hasn’t been with anyone in almost a year. He hadn’t had the chance for much other relief while traipsing across the western states either. His body is only starting to come down from the constant alertness and tension that came with being on the outside. 

You spread your legs out, your dripping pussy on display for Joel. He swallows, crawling over you. You hook a leg over his waist. Joel takes his time, igniting small fires over your skin. You whimper with impatience, making him laugh. 

“Please, Joel.”

“So goddamn impatient for me.”

Does he know how goddamn patient you’ve been? That this picture embedded itself in your mind 25 years ago? A picture you labeled never gonna happen. 

Finally, he eases into you, slowly, like he’s savoring it. Watching his eyes roll back in his head confirms that he is, sending shivers down your spine. You force your hips toward him, forcing him further into you. You’d forgotten the satisfying stretch of being wrapped around a man. Your moans tangle with Joel’s as he enters you fully, sweat forming across your abdomen.

His fingers intertwine with yours on the mattress. His eyes lock with yours, sending more shock waves across your skin. Your walls clench around him of their own volition. He falls forward with a hiss, catching himself on his forearm. “Fuck, Sweetheart. It’s been a long time. I ain’t gonna last if you keep doing that.”

You squeeze his hand and trail your fingertips down his chest and stomach. He shudders at your touch. It sends another thrill, another wave of electricity straight to your bones. You squeeze him again, and he gasps. You’ve forgotten what it was like to have this effect on a man. 

“You gonna fuck me, old man?”

He groans, burying his face in your neck. Hot breath spreads across your skin in an uncontrollable blaze. Finally, his hips rock against yours, setting sparks off where his skin connects with yours. You moan, arching your back and baring for skin for him to consume. He nips at your neck and collarbone, teeth scraping behind. Your breath catches and Joel notices. His eyes sparkle down at you with mischief. 

He nibbles at your ear lobe. “I’m going to keep that tucked away for later.” and then he picks up the pace, pulling out and pushing in over and over. Your stomach clenches at the promise of more. More than one night. Nights. You shut your brain off there. Any further and you’ll spiral. 

You focus on the thrust of his hips. In and out. In and out. Your hands land on his hips, thumbs caressing the skin there. A bead of sweat falls from Joel’s brown. His lips land on yours again. You can tell he’s close, the tension of your orgasm building. 

You slip a hand to your cunt, reaching for your clit. Joel smacks your hand away, replacing it with his own. “That’s my job, Darlin.” 

Your nipples tighten. Your walls clench around him, your head swimming with incoherent thoughts and words as the sweat builds across your flushed body. Joel barely touches your clit before you’re crying out, muscles tightening before releasing with pleasure. It crashes over your body like much-needed waves after years of drought. 

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, pulling out of you completely. 

His lips connect with yours, soft and tender this time. His calloused hands cradle your face as small cries come from your mouth as words still fail to form. 

“I know, baby. I know.” He kisses your forehead, pushing back your hair until you come back down. 

Your limbs tingle and your body buzzes with a relaxing energy. You’d forgotten what the high was like- the comedown. You feel lighter than you have in months, years even. A smile begins to spread across your face, the bubbling of laughter in your chest. You run your fingers through Joel’s hair and he smiles back. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing really.” But the soft rumble of your chest continues.

“Is that so?” Joel’s crow’s feet crinkle making your heart clench. He presses another soft kiss to your lips, another to your forehead. 

“That’s so,” you hum with contentment. 

He chuckles. “We should get you cleaned up.” 

Joel eases off the bed, entering through the open door of your en-suite bathroom. You take a second to appreciate his bare form before your gaze travels to your own body. Your brain finally registers Joel’s warm semen, sticky across your stomach. 

You send up a prayer that Joel had the wherewithal you didn’t in the moment. You’re almost embarrassed how long it took you to realize he finished on your stomach. 

Joel steps back into the room, washcloth in hand. “Thank god for modern amenities.” He winks at you as he sits on the edge of the bed, bringing the warm cloth to your stomach. 

“I’ve got it,” you say, pushing Joel’s hand away as he tries to clean you up. 

“I don’t mind cleaning up after myself.” A smirk plays in his eyes but flickers away when you don’t reciprocate. 

You lean away from him, shoulders tensing. “I prefer to do it.” 

His fingers glide over your bare thigh as you wipe away the last of him, setting the cloth on your nightstand. Goosebumps raise in salute with each of his motions. Your back rests against the headboard as you both sit in naked silence. 

Not a word passes between you. His fingers continue across your thigh. You watch him, his profile, his fingers until the anxiety sets in. Your stomach twists in knots. Your frame is rigid. You pick at the sheets, unable to look Joel’s way. 

He knows it. He feels your walls go up before you can’t look his way so he withdraws his hand, collects his clothes- all but the flannel lying downstairs- and kisses your forehead. Then he waits. 

He’s waiting for you to look at him. His eyes watch your profile, burning it until you can no longer bear it. You push back the tears, meeting his eyes. 

He smiles softly, understandingly. “Same time tomorrow?” 

Your stomach clenches and turns in a ball of excitement and dread. “Same time tomorrow.”

With the reassurance, he kisses your head for a final time. “Sleep well, Sweetheart.”

Then he leaves for the night like you told yourself you wanted.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller #TLOU #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #woman #woman (joel’s version) #woman (joel miller) #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

[nayatarot777]

why are people intimidated by you? - pac

{ pile one } 🤍

[the hierophant, temperance, judgement, knight of cups]

people are intimidated by how structured and peaceful you seem. you’re viewed as someone who has a clear viewpoint of what you want to achieve and how you’re going to get there. you appear to be extremely balanced and content with each stage of life that you’re in and it’s almost like you’ve reached a major milestone in your life. perhaps before the majority of people your own age. i’m sensing that for most of you, this refers to something internal. internal balance. i feel like most people see the acts of kindness and self care that you direct towards yourself, but most of all the self respect and self-value that you hold. i heard “self-married” so you might be the type to take yourself out on dates, treat yourself to nice things, and practice a lot of self care for yourself. you’re committed to yourself more than anyone else. for those of you in a commitment (could be a long term relationship or even a marriage) people are intimidated by how peaceful your relationship seems, for some reason. i’m not gonna lie, people think that you’ve hit the jackpot in life in one area or another. there’s also a message about either the types of people who you attract romantically or your confidence towards the people who you approach. it’s clear that you have extremely high expectations for yourself as well as whoever you date/get into a relationship with. there’s an energy of being unreachable - but not in a typical, whimsical, piscean, dreamy type of way. it stems more from people putting you up on a pedestal and comparing themselves to you and their lives to yours. i’m even hearing that people who are romantically interested in you usually end up developing actual feelings for you - even when they usually wouldn’t. you’re “commitment material” in a lot of people’s eyes. but most of these suitors don’t feel like they’re even on your level. it seems like you have everything that you want or need already. your (perceivable) contentment intimidates people.

{ pile two } 🤍

[10 of swords, king of cups, king of swords]

you guys are way too smart and intuitive for people. people with negative intentions in particular. they get intimidated because their plans to backstab you and fuck you over in some way is met with a complete reversal, and they’re the ones who end up in an extremely negative situation. these are people who perhaps talk shit behind your back? or just send you evil eye quietly? they don’t understand how you manage to know what they’re up to. and i feel like they’re terrified to get into a verbal conflict with you because they know that they’d be ripped to shreds verbally 😭. people really don’t want smoke with you. your words are venomous and lethal when you want them to be. you protect your energy amazingly this way. you’re a pure divine feminine. nothing can get past your observation and intuition. and what’s scarier is that you’ll keep quiet about what you know about someone for a while. especially when it comes to betrayers - fake friends, people who smile in your face but plan to take something that you have. but yet they start to feel the shift in your energy, even if there’s no shift in your behaviour towards them at first. it causes them to ruminate and worry that you’re onto them, but your poker face is immaculate and they can’t figure the answer to their questions out. it’s almost like this is their karma? a self-induced psychic attack for playing with you. the duality between when you act out of love towards genuine people and when you act out of defence towards backstabbers and shady people is terrifying to most. the way that you switch up leaves people drowning in their thoughts. they’re genuinely fearful and anxiety-ridden at the thought of having to feel your wrath. this is how you implement your boundaries. you’re very clear, concise and direct, and as long as you’re not fucked with, you’re the most loving person someone could meet. even so, you keep the boundaries firm between most people that you invite into your life and what you’re nurturing in your life. unless someone manages to get extremely close to you. but that takes a very long while, after many trials and observations on your part. as soon as there’s a significant tribulation, they’re out of your life. but even after people cause you problems, it’s almost like you forgive them silently, but never want to interact with them again. you go back to your relaxed, divine feminine energy. nothing keeps you out of it for too long. your quiet peacefulness after the fact intimidates people even more though lmaoo. they don’t know if you’re one of those “crazy” calm-before-the-actual-storm types of people.

{ pile three } 🤍

[6 of wands, the wheel of fortune, 6 of cups, death]

people are intimidated by how you seem to have support and acquire success on any journey that you put yourself on. there could be a group of people who support you that people are very intimidated by (i feel like this is a group of masculines - doesn’t necessarily have to be men, but definitely people who are ride or dies for a lot of you). if these masculine energies aren’t physical people, then this is your spirit guides and ancestors for those of you who have a connection with them. i’m seeing that this support brings you major abundance. major positive changes in life at times. but there are times where your transformations are not easy at all. particularly after you have gotten used to the previous abundance that came in for you. you always share it around with others, but i’m picking up on the energy that you guys may sometimes purposefully go through difficult transformations and changes if you’ve outgrown what you considered to be abundance before. it’s like you’re not afraid of change - no matter how difficult - so you don’t get comfortable with things for long. you know when it’s time for an ego death, and you go through your dark night of the soul to purge, just to be met with support from this group of energies/people who help support you when you usher yourself into great abundance yet again. i’m feeling plutonic energy because of the major extremities here. your life is full of extremes that you manage to balance yourself out with. because you accept the “good” and the “bad”. i feel like you understand that those are human judgements - not factual observations about something, so you journey through life with the mindset of “it is what it is”. you take the positive with the negative as they both come in waves, but you’re never knocked off of your path. you’re in constant alignment, even when it doesn’t seem like it to other people. because of your acceptance towards the dualities and polarities of life. you don’t complain. when you have more than you need, you’re extremely charitable. whether that be about money, time, energy. and that’s why karma comes around and offers you an abundance of support when you’re in need. i feel like you guys don’t even stress throughout negative experiences as much as others would. because you understand that you’ll be all good soon enough. and you understand that loss is a natural part of life as much as gain, so you don’t cling onto what you gain like others would. you flow with life. and this intimidates those who struggle to see life from a higher perspective. as well as those who have control issues. you have way more wisdom about the human experience than the majority of people on this planet. you know what it means to surrender

#divination #pick a card #pick a photo #pick a picture #psychic readings #spirituality #tarot #pac #tarot reading #pac reading #collective reading #intuition #daily tarot #tarot witch #tarot cards #tarotcommunity

[alcides]

Hello, could you please do a Velvet x reader with social anxiety?

So here's something to go off of. Basically Velvet does not know you have social anxiety and she likes to jokingly make fun of you (or not jokingly) or bring the attetion to you a lot. So one day after bringing the attention to you she finds you having a panic attack and finds out about the social anxiety. Please and Thanks.

Talk to strangers

“I seriously don’t get what you’re afraid of.” She obviously talks about your social anxiety as if it doesn’t bother you either.

“I don’t get it either.” You spat back a little hurt that she made no attempt to actually feel sorry for you, not that you needed her pity but some empathy is nice. She groaned a little bit at your response not looking for a fight even though the thing she was about to say could definitely start one.

“Well suck it up! We don’t need to going out there shaking and stuttering. It doesn’t look good for either of us.”

You rolled your eyes so hard that it could probably stay like that if you did it again. “Sure.” You weren’t really in the mood to talk to her or the interviewer, but you really didn’t have much of a choice as the two of you walked out to the stage.

You sat right next to Velvet in a stick and lumpy chair. It wasn’t very pretty or clean. No sense why it would be either of those things. Your mind began to wander right before the show started as Velvet and the interviewer went on and on and on.

Their conversation was cut short due to the camera men shouting and counting down numbers right before the show started. All you had to do was sit there and look normal and answer a few questions. Not hard, right?

Soon as you started to overthink and bright light blinded you and most definitely everyone around you. Now you felt as stiff and lumpy as the chair. You don’t know what kind of magical power the chair had to make you just forget your whole existence but it did and you were not feeling good.

You felt a hand lightly slap you on your forearm. It was Velvet grabbing your attention. The interviewer had already started asking questions.

You shake a little as you look up at the interviewer waiting for them to repeat their question but they never did. They just started right back at you with no empathy for you. You smile and shake your head to make it look like you were most definitely searching for an answer that you found.

“Oh!- Yes, of course” you quickly got out and that is when you realized you most definitely messed everything up.

The interviewer started laughing. “I don’t think you understood.” They giggled some more and continued with the show not asking you anymore questions, which you were grateful for but also a bit mad at yourself for not listening.

So soon as they cut out the lights and dismissed you and Velvet, you booked it to the dressing room and immediately put yourself in a corner of the room and started have one of the worst break downs ever. It didn’t take long for Velvet to find you.

“(Y/n)? A-are you okay?” She hesitated asking wondering if you needed space but you felt like this was the perfect time to snap at her. “No! I am not okay! Neither you or the interviewer helped me when I was lost! And you! You never understand or even want to try to understand my emotions!”

You broke down back into the corner crying harder after yelling at Velvet.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t want to-“ you cut her off again by telling her to leave before she makes it worse for you and her. Velvet left very shortly after that, not wanting to left in your anger.

You calmed yourself down after a little bit doing something that helps and you know for sure will help you. But soon as you stepped back into your little room you found a small note with your favorite snack next to it.

The note was from Velvet.

The whole note was her apologizing and telling you how she’ll be better for you. Which was really sweet but the sweetest thing was waking up to her poorly made breakfast she tried to make as an apology for you.

#stan writes 🦇 #trolls band together x reader #trolls x reader #trolls band together #troll velvet #velvet x reader #velvet and veneer

[atlabeth]

here with me - george karim

request from @iloveyousomuchhhhhh

summary: ghost-hunting isn't the easiest occupation in the world. it helps when you've got someone like george in your corner.

a/n: thank you for this request, it was very cute and i loved my first delve into george, especially writing completely in his pov!

im not an expert on anxiety but i based the reader's anxiety and panic attack on my experience with them; not everyone experiences them the same way so keep that in mind. thank you again for the request and i hope you enjoy<3 shoutout to my restless reader characters you guys are struggling

wc: 3k

warning(s): reader has anxiety, reader has a small panic attack, emotional hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

You were a restless person. 

It was the first thing George noticed when he guided you into the living room and watched you settle into the cushions. Your leg almost instantly started bobbing up and down, and he could feel the vibrations through the wooden floor. He gave a small nod to Lockwood before he walked off. 

Restless wasn’t necessarily bad, he thought as he stood in the kitchen, watching the kettle and waiting for it to boil. Restless meant more time to be productive, more time to go over plans, more time to spend in the archives. There was always more time to be spent in the archives. 

Restless also wasn’t necessarily good, he thought with another glance at Lockwood. He was already plying you with easy smiles and kind words, and George wondered how long it would be until you ran off screaming like the last few girls. Restless meant absolutely zero patience, a blatant disregard for his pleas of a little more time, a penchant for getting into trouble. 

Well. It wasn’t exactly like he was a stranger to those things, working with Lockwood. George just didn’t know if he would be able to handle another one. 

George walked back into the room with a tray of tea, about to announce himself, when Lockwood shot him a warning look. You were sitting there with your eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as you held Lockwood’s watch in your hands. George stood there, watching you in all your focus, when suddenly your eyes flew open and you practically threw the watch back to the table. 

“I’m sorry for that,” you breathed, “but absolutely nobody should have that thing near them. It almost hurts to go further with it.” 

Lockwood’s lips twitched. George chuckled. 

“Tea?” George asked, and your whole body flinched as your head whipped around to him. 

“Yes, please.” The words rushed out of your mouth, as if you were afraid to use up more time than needed. He handed you a cup that you accepted gratefully. 

“Pitkin’s best,” he said. 

Your leg had stopped bouncing up and down with such ferocity, George noticed. 

He smiled. 

“Well, that’s a good sign,” Lockwood continued, picking up the watch with a slight glance and an even slighter smile at George. “You see, that was my watch…” 

Lockwood’s words trailed off in his ears as George continued to watch you. How you shifted every few seconds, trying to get comfortable like it was a fruitless task. How you latched onto every word Lockwood said with ferocious attentiveness, as if you were scared of what would happen if you missed a single syllable. Your eyes flicked over to George for the shortest moment, but it was enough for him to realize he’d been staring. 

He cleared his throat and set the tray down on the table, settling down in his seat. He’d meant to take his armchair as usual, be judgmental as usual, say something clever to Lockwood when you turned out to not be the right fit as usual. 

But instead, George stayed silent. 

And he watched. 

-

George ran into you the next morning—a slight exaggeration, calling it morning, seeing as it was four in the morning—and it was hardly planned. He’d woken up with cotton in his mouth, and on his noble voyage for a glass of water, that was when he nearly ran into you. 

“Oh, god—” the words rushed out of your mouth, an already placating hand flying up as you put distance in between the two of you— “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even notice you.” 

George squinted, nudging his glasses back up with the tip of his finger. “What are you doing up?” 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you explained with a gesture back at the table. George noticed the binder, the folder, the scattered papers. “I thought I would make sure I was ready.” 

“...You’re reading through our notes,” he said slowly, “again.” 

“It never hurts to be prepared,” you said. 

George huffed. “I’d say we’re quite prepared. This is one of the rare times I’ve been able to get Lockwood to slow down.” He shrugged. “I suppose I have you to thank for that, since you’re quite new. He doesn’t want to lose an agent he just got.” 

Your eyes widened slightly. “I don’t plan on being lost.” 

He made an off-handed gesture. “Don’t take anything I say too seriously. I’m still waking up.” 

“Ah.” You stared at him for a moment before you seemed to snap out of it, and you cleared your throat. “I was just going up to get my coat. It’s a bit drafty in here.” 

“I’d recommend you go to sleep instead,” George said. “You’re bright, and I’d like you to stay that way for the job tomorrow.” He frowned. “Today, rather.” 

“I just like going over everything until I know I can’t forget it,” you said. “It eases my mind.” 

“I’m pretty sure you know it by now.” 

“I am as well,” you agreed, “but you never really know what you know until you’re staring a ghost down point blank, do you?” 

The smallest of smiles formed against his will. “You aren’t helping your case.” 

You tilted your head to the side. “Really?” 

“Really,” he agreed. “We don’t need the entire agency sleep-deprived tomorrow.” 

“The entire agency?” 

“Lockwood does not sleep,” George said. “I think he came out of the womb with dark circles.” 

You chuckled, and you nodded after a moment. “Alright. I’ll turn in just for you.” 

“It’s an honor,” he said. 

He meant to be facetious, but he found he meant it more than he realized. George watched you go, up the stairs and into the attic, and it took the sound of the door closing for him to snap out of it. 

He blinked, shaking his head as he went back to his own room. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat to an audience of no one but himself that he realized he never even got that glass of water. 

-

“Does Lockwood spend much time in the archives?” you asked. 

You were trying to make pleasant enough small talk to fill in the silence on your walk over—George appreciated the concept, but not so much the reality. 

“He’s not one for details,” George said. “He can’t charm his way through articles.” 

You chuckled, and George smiled. He felt a strange swell of pride every time he managed to make you laugh, or really just happy in any kind of way. 

“It’s the reason he got me from Fittes,” he continued. “Lockwood can fence his way out of a box, but sometimes it’s like he’d rather die than wait a few more days so I can make sure we’ve got enough information.” 

“Well, you’ve got another member on your team,” you said with a slight smile of your own. “I’m not very good with talking to people. He can stick to that—I’d much rather be in the archives with you.” 

George felt his cheeks heat the slightest bit. He looked over at you, once again finding himself studying your features, and his eyes darted away the second you looked back at him. 

“Welcome to the team,” he finally settled on. George found he meant it wholly. 

-

George Karim prides himself on noticing things. 

He is, after all, a researcher above all else. He’s able to find breaks in cases Lockwood could never dream of. He was able to get one up on Fittes kids all the time without even trying. He was, henceforth, very easily able to notice when his higher-ups were getting annoyed with his questions and poking around, and happily allowed himself to be ‘stolen’ from the company by Anthony Lockwood. 

And George Karim, as someone who prided himself on noticing things, noticed you an awful lot. 

He noticed that, whenever they got Arif’s, you waited until he and Lockwood had gotten their first pick before you took your own. 

He noticed that your favorite kind of gum to chew on jobs was the strongest spearmint available, and though you hated cinnamon mints, you pretended to love them just to put Lockwood up in arms. 

He noticed that you preferred to lace up your left boot before your right, no matter what. George was sure you all could have been on the run from a dozen Type Twos and you would still take the time for the specifics. 

He noticed that you doubted every single thing you did, questioned yourself whenever possible, and always let George take the lead whenever the two of you ended up researching together. 

There was one time in the archives, on the most frustrating case he’d had in a while when George felt like he could have pulled all his hair out in pure annoyance. You then offered up what turned out to be a crucial bit of information, something that led them down the path to solving it—you’d found it an hour earlier, but you were so unsure about actually being right that you held it back until you had triple checked it. 

George made sure that from then on, whenever you two were researching together, you would share whatever you found immediately. 

(“You’re valuable,” he’d scoffed, “almost as much a genius in here as I am. So don’t hold anything back.

He wouldn’t forget the smile you graced him with for a long time.)

George noticed more and more about you the more the three of you worked together, even more so when you went to the archives together while Lockwood worked the field, or went off with each other to pick up groceries while Lockwood met with clients, or any time when it was just the two of you. 

Lockwood enjoyed leaving George with you, for some strange reason. Maybe he thought you would drive him crazy, with your almost neurotic double and triple-checking of everything and excessive need for cleanliness. The joke was on Lockwood, though—George rather enjoyed your company. 

You were pleasant, quiet, intelligent, and you were willing to work with him. George actually quite liked you. What more could he need in a colleague? 

So when George heard quite a large crash coming from the attic, he took it upon himself to investigate. He figured he at least owed it to you, what with how much you’d been helping him lately in the archives. Your small marks on the Thinking Cloth in defense of him in the midst of his and Lockwood’s scribbled squabble were another point in your favor, as well as the fact that whenever things went wrong in your vicinity, you were prone to stubborn insistence that you figure it out on your own without any help. 

He thought it was ridiculous—even more so that both you and Lockwood shared that trait. What was the damn point of working in an agency if you weren’t going to accept help from your colleagues? 

So when he got to the top of the stairs, he knocked on the door to the attic and called out your name. “Is everything alright?” 

There was no response. George pressed his ear against the door, and he could hear heavy breathing. He didn’t consider himself much of an expert on breathing, but it was obviously yours—you sounded as if you’d just run a marathon. 

He frowned as he knocked again and said your name again. When there was yet again no response, he sighed. 

“I hope you’re decent,” he said, “because I’m coming in.” 

There was no immediate protest, so George cracked open the door and peered in. You were in fact decent, much to his relief, but that was about the only good thing. 

You were sitting against your dresser, back pressed flat against the wood. It wasn’t exactly what he’d expected to find—you, hyperventilating, eyes rimmed red with visible tear tracks down your cheeks, and a few fallen books on the floor across from you. 

But George didn’t panic, only stared at you for a moment before he moved into action. He was no stranger to all of this. 

He knelt down across from you and looked you right in the eye, saying your name. “Do you want me to stay?” 

You nodded shakily, and he mirrored the action. “Can you speak?” 

“A— a bit,” you managed through heaved breaths. 

He nodded again. “Breathe with me. Can you do that?” 

You nodded again. You seemed to be calming down just the slightest amount, if only because someone else was with you. He would take whatever he could get. 

George slowly let out all the air in his lungs, keeping eye contact with you the entire time as you followed along with him. Then he breathed in, counting the four seconds on his fingers for you, and held it for eight and let it out for seven doing the same.

“That’s it,” he said. “You’re doing great.” 

You screwed your eyes shut, a hand reaching out blindly, and without fully thinking, George took it. His breath caught for a split second as your fingers tightened around his, then he just swallowed as he squeezed back. 

“It’s alright,” George murmured. “I’m here with you. I’ve got you.” 

You continued to breathe the way he showed you, holding onto George’s hand while he murmured reassurances to get you through it. Eventually, the haggard breathing ceased, your vice-like grip on his hand loosened, and the storm had been weathered. 

“Are you alright?” George asked quietly. “Well— better than before?” 

You nodded yet again, and you used your free hand to wipe away drying tear tracks on your cheeks. “Yeah. I— I’m better.” 

“Good.” 

“I’m sorry,” you rasped. 

He frowned. “For what?” 

“For this,” you mumbled, and you pulled your hand away. “I know you didn’t sign up to deal with this—” 

George reached for your hand again, lacing his fingers with yours, and you stopped as your gaze met his. 

“No need to apologize,” he said. “You’re part of the team, remember? I’ve got your back.” 

You nodded a few times, that smile he’d come to appreciate slowly coming back. “Right. Thank you, George.” 

“Of course,” he said. “We deal with ghosts every day. I’m… no stranger to panic attacks.” 

Something in your eyes changed, and your throat bobbed. “It… it was because of the ghost. From today.” 

“I figured,” he murmured. 

“It hit a bit too close to home,” you said wryly, “the way they died and all. And it didn’t help that you nearly got ghost-touched.” 

That gave him pause. “It was because of me?” 

You shrugged, glancing away again. “It would honestly be better if I hated you all. I wouldn’t get so scared every time something went wrong. Which—” you huffed a laugh— “with us, is practically every case.” 

George still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. Apparently, his silence was a sign, because you sighed. 

“I keep seeing it, George,” you said, voice slightly strained. “I keep seeing you and that damned ghost, except when I try to sleep, Lockwood isn’t there with his rapier to save you.” 

He couldn’t help but look into your eyes then, really see you. How could he not, when you said things like that? 

“I’m here,” he said softly, holding up your intertwined hands. “Flesh and bone.” He moved your hands to his heart. “Still beating.” 

“Still beating,” you repeated in a whisper. 

And the two of you remained like that for a touch longer than would be considered normal, but George didn’t want to let go. There was something about you, there had always been something about you, that made him not want to let go. 

“Do you want to come to my room?” he asked, and it took a beat for him to realize how sudden it was. “Not— not like that, I swear. I just—” George laughed nervously as he let your hands fall back down— “I figure you don’t really want to be alone right now.” 

“You figured right.” You glanced around your room and shivered. “The buzz of the ghost lamps really starts to get to you after a while.” 

George chuckled, and he helped you up. Your hands remained intertwined as you went out the room, down the stairs, and into his own. He felt a bit ashamed at the clutter, but you didn’t seem bothered. 

“My bed’s quite comfy,” he said, shifting a bit as he stared at it. “It should be good for the both of us.” The burst of confidence that guided him from your room to his seemed to have faded, leaving him holding hands with a girl and not much idea of where to go from there. 

And again, you didn’t seem to care. “Thank you for doing this,” you said. “I— I appreciate it more than you know. I don’t think I could have gotten through the night alone.” You paused. “I don’t think I could have gotten through that alone.” 

“I told you,” George said, “you’re part of the team. We’ll always be here for you.” 

You smiled, and George understood why poetry was written. 

“I’ll always be here for you,” he added. 

“And I’ll always be here for you,” you said. “As long as you’ll have me.” 

“Barring our deaths, I think we’ll have you around for a while,” George said. He cleared his throat. “Apologies. That’s not very funny after this afternoon.” 

You laughed, and you tugged George towards the bed. You pulled your knee up to your chest when you sat down. “You can joke about it all you want as long as it stays a joke.” 

George smiled. “Got it.” 

The two of you settled into his bed, backs facing each other and him staring at the wall. George had never paid so much attention to his breathing, but he found that when he was around you lately, he’d been paying attention to everything.

(George should have known the moment he considered asking Lockwood for advice that he was too far gone.) 

“George,” you said, breaking the silence. He’d never thought his name could sound so pleasant. “Thank you again. For all of this.” 

“Any time,” he said. He meant it with all his heart. 

And with your body warmth so close to him, the extra weight on the mattress, your soft breathing in even intervals, George fell asleep faster than ever. 

#me when im george and im oblivious “lockwood left us alone bc he thinks she'll annoy me lol jokes on him bc i like her” idiot #matchmaker lockwood is special to me #george karim x reader #george karim x you #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood and co x reader #george karim #x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

[reasonsmandy]

I'm addicted to you

Warren Rojas x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — So my idea was maybe with Warren or even Billy (if you want to write for him of course), the reader is super shy (maybe she's friends with Daisy, who dragged her along one day you know) and Warren/Billy just took an interest in her and flirts to make her blush, but at first she thinks he's joking or just being nice because "no one actually likes the shy girl". Hope you like it, sorry if it's too specific 😅

✧.* summary — From the first time you met The Six's drummer he was always around you praising you, and picking up on you. And one day you put your shyness aside and return it in kind.

✧.* warnings — none

✧.* word count — 3.7k

✧.* 🥁 — Warren's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I apologize for the delay in answering your asks, college has been making me crazy lately, but I promise that soon everything will be back to normal, also this isn't revised so there might be some mistakes. Hope you like it 🫶🏾

"Come on Y/N we need your help." Daisy repeats it for the fourth time that morning. "I mean, I can write good songs but you're going to add something to the mix, you know? I already talked to Teddy, he loved the idea."

"Of course he loved it, he loves any opportunity to bring me to the label." You laugh, stirring the food in the pot. "I would love to help you Daisy, but you know I prefer the backstage."

"I promise you it's just going to be the people in the band, no one else." She lifts her pinky for you to intertwine yours. "Come on Y/N, please."

You let out a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut tightly, sure you'd regret it. "Alright, when do we start?"

Your passion for music was no secret to anyone, you always loved portraying your emotions, your feelings, frustrations through music and that's what you've been doing since you were 14 years old, obviously you didn't start professionally at first, it was just you your guitar a paper and a pen in the afternoons after class for a long time before you get the courage to show anyone your lyrics. You knew Daisy from school, and it was to her that you first presented your songs, after that your passion for the musical world brought you two together.

Daisy had the courage that you would never have, and you admired her so much for it, the fact that you were backstage writing the songs, without the public attention, without the fame was never something that bothered you, in fact it was something you preferred. There was something about attention that activated the most intense peak of your anxiety.

Whenever you found yourself in the spotlight, your heart would start to race, pounding in your chest like a wild animal trying to break free. Your palms would become slick with sweat, and your fingers would twitch nervously as if trying to escape the situation. Your breaths would come in short, shallow gasps, as if your lungs were struggling to get enough air. Your stomach would churn with nausea, and you would feel the muscles in your abdomen tighten into knots. You could feel your whole body trembling with tension, every nerve ending on high alert as if waiting for the next attack.

So yeah, you were much better off stage.

Daisy had great difficulty understanding this position of yours, and when she joined The Six she was sure that what they needed was your help to improve those lyrics. She knew that with you, they were going to make the best album in the whole world. She had spent a few weeks preparing the territory, Daisy knew if she wanted you to agree she had to go slowly implanting the ideas in your head little by little until in the end, you agreed.

You didn't have the courage to open your eyes as you felt the wind hit your face, you knew that if you noticed the paths Daisy's car took you would feel butterflies in your stomach. As you approached the label, Daisy glanced at you from time to time, smiling as she found your reaction amusing.

"You're gonna be fine Y/N" You feel the car stop, opening your eyes slowly you notice they had stopped at a light, relieved you let out a sight. "They're nice people, I swear to you… well, except for Billy but don't worry I'll handle him."

"I knew I was going to regret this Daisy." Your voice was weak. "I work much better at home, I might as well work on my parts and hand them to you later."

Daisy looks at you with arched eyebrows. "Without listening to the instruments?"

You shrug, trying to convince yourself you could handle it. Daisy just laughs, and you roll your eyes. "What?"

"Are you serious?" The redhead questions. "You urgently need more social activities."

…

As you stepped out of Daisy's car, your heart began to race. You tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself down, but your anxiety only seemed to intensify with each passing second. You followed Daisy into the label building, feeling like a fish out of water among all the bright lights and bustling activity.

Daisy leads you to the studio they used to record, Teddy says hello from across the sound booth, you wave back at him then turn back to the band members watching you curiously. Immediately you regret it and take your eyes to the ground trying little by little to hide behind Daisy.

"Well, well, well," he said, sauntering over to you. "Who's this pretty little thing that Daisy's brought us?"

You felt your face heat up as you tried to hide behind Daisy, who just rolled her eyes at Warren's flirting.

"This is Y/N," she said, introducing you. "She's a songwriter, and she's been helping me out with the album."

Warren's eyes lit up with interest. "A songwriter, huh? Well, we could always use more talent around here."

He extended his hand towards you, and you hesitated for a moment before shaking it tentatively. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel your cheeks turning pink.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," he said, still holding onto your hand. "I'm Warren."

You pulled your hand back, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Uh, yeah, nice to meet you too."

…

Warren's flirty mood had become a pattern, he loved the way your cheeks flushed in his presence, or how you widen your eyes at every flirtation he gave you, and he thought it was adorable the way you never knew how to handle his compliments, so he always made an effort to come up with something new.

You never knew what to expect, he always took you by surprise at the most unexpected moments, and you just loved that attention coming from him.

The band was sitting on the studio floor, you were further away from the group, in the corner of the room with your notebook, your pen and some crumpled sheets of paper around you. You hummed the tune Graham had created, trying to match your ideas to it, your pen hanging from your lips as you picked it up every now and then to make some adjustments.

Warren tapped some cans while watching you from afar. He loved how you seemed to shut out the world around you when you started writing, how you smiled when you got the lyrics right. He even thought it was really cute when you hated something and dropped your notebook on the floor to take a break.

He smiles at the idea that is born in his mind, he opens his notebook on a random sheet of paper writing something and then making a paper airplane with it. He takes aim in your direction, tongue sticking out as if that will help him concentrate more, and when he feels ready he throws it towards you.

You are snapped out of your concentration by the piece of paper that hits your eye. "Ouch." you exclaim, closing your eyes and rubbing them.

"Shit!" Warren exclaims, moving closer to you. "I'm sorry cariño."

"What was that for?" You struggle to get used to the light in the room again.

"It was supposed to be something cute, now it seems like I wanted to make you blind." He says running his hands through his curls. "Is it rude of me to ask you to read it?"

You can't contain your laughter, he laughs along with you and you shake your head. "I can try."

You undo the paper plane, a little nervous to have the man's gaze centered on you, his handwriting wasn't difficult to understand but with your eye "damaged" by the little accident it took you a while. It read "You must be tired, right?"

You arch your eyebrows in question, looking at him blankly. Rojas had a smirk on his face and soon you knew something curious was coming, he had a smile on his face waiting for you to question him why. So you do so.

"Why?" You ask quietly, he smiles wider.

"Because you've been running through my mind all day long mi amor." He finishes the sentence almost in a whisper, the Spanish nickname sends a chill down your spine that almost immediately brings the blush to your cheeks. "You know something mamita, you're so fucking pretty when you're shy."

He winks at you before standing up, leaving you with a flushed face, a racing heart, and a goofy smile on your face.

…

The smell of fresh coffee invaded their noses, that morning contained a fresh climate and yet the sun was shining brightly in the Los Angeles sky. It's been a few hours since they've been locked in the label's studio trying to improve the pre-chorus of "Aurora". Daisy, Billy and you had been working on this song for the past few days but knew there was something missing right there. Daisy once again stated that she didn't know how to work with empty stomach, so together with The Six they went to the nearest bakery for a more elaborate breakfast.

"You know what? I think it turned out cool that way." Graham states, pointing to the chord Eddie had just written in his notebook. "Maybe you could add longer notes, so as not to overshadow Warren's solo and still show the bass..."

"Great idea dude." Eddie says writing it down, taking a bite of his toast next.

Warren looked uneasy, he had noticed since leaving the studio that you hadn't accompanied them, which left him a little disappointed, as he liked to spend as much time as possible by your side, he eats his order quickly while tapping his feet nonstop, after drinking his juice he turns to Daisy, lighting a cigarette.

"Hey Daisy." He calls for her, catching her attention. "Do you know why she didn't come?"

Daisy smiles, she arches an eyebrow enjoying seeing the drummer's interest in her friend. "It's like you don't know her, any chance to spend some time alone she accepts."

"Yeah yeah of course." He really wanted to go back there, spend more time with you, he was afraid that now that the album was almost finished he wouldn't see you anymore. "Now that I remember! I forgot my drumsticks in the studio." he exclaims, capturing the attention of everyone at the table.

"So what?" Eddie asks. "You're not going to play right now anyways, chill out." He chuckles.

"Actually I just had an inspiration, I need to go get them." Rojas stands up, adjusting the vest on his torso.

Without giving a chance to be contradicted, he leaves through the front door, leaving his friends without understanding much. Daisy smiles at the ridiculous excuse the drummer had come up with to go find you, eager to find out what it would lead to.

The record company wasn't far away, Warren only had to walk a few blocks to reach his destination. He brought you a croissant and coffee, figuring you might be hungry since you didn't join them, he enters the record label excited, wanting to see you as soon as possible but as soon as he hears something different he stops in front of the door of the studio where you record.

He doesn't move listening to the sound of a beautiful, calm, light and yet powerful voice echoing from the room, he doesn't take long to recognize Aurora's melody and without being able to contain his curiosity, open the door slowly. Coming across you sitting on the floor, some sheets spread out next to you and your notebook, pencil dangling from your ear and a guitar in your lap.

He can't contain his smile when he sees you sing, with each passing day he is more and more enchanted by you and your talent always surprises him in a good way. As soon as you finish he makes his presence known by knocking on the door, you take your gaze up to him and he holds up the bag he brought you.

"How long have you been there, uh?" You question without looking him in the eye.

"Long enough to need to ask you something." You definitely didn't expect that answer, so you just wait for him to finish. "Did it hurt when you fell from the sky? Because you have an angelic voice mi amor."

You roll your eyes smiling weakly, Rojas approaches you sitting beside you admiring your flushed face. You muster up the courage to face him, something he didn't expect and as soon as your eyes met his he felt like he was floating, or dreaming even.

"Can I ask you something Warren?" You say softly, directing your speech just for him.

Rojas arches his eyebrows curiously, he rests his head in the palm of his hand watching you closely.

"Sure, go ahead," he says, smiling warmly.

You think twice before saying something, you take a deep breath and say, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears."

The drummer had a surprised and yet admiring expression, he licks his lips smiling wide then, the way his eyes get tiny when he smiles makes your heart warm. But as soon as you realized what you said your gaze dropped to your hands, you felt embarrassed by what you said, it seemed ridiculous that you wanted to flirt with a man like him.

"Hey." He says bringing his hand to your chin, lifting your face to look at him. "I never knew you had it in you," he says, still chuckling. "That was actually really cute."

"It was ridiculous." You state, nervous to look him straight in the eye.

"Nothing that comes from you can be ridiculous, mamita." He stops smiling, staring into your eyes as if he's admiring the most beautiful view in the world, and maybe he is. "You're so gorgeous."

…

You were lying on the couch in your apartment, Daisy was sitting on the floor in front of you with the guitar in her lap composing. You bit the pencil and every now and then tapped it against the notebook you have in your hands, you were trying to finish the lyrics to "Regret Me", a song that Daisy had started a few days ago.

"Y/N! Are you here?" The redhead exclaims, snapping her fingers in front of your face.

"Uh? Oh yeah sorry, where were we?" You sit on the couch, your thoughts still in the air.

"What do you have?” Daisy asks, a faint smile on her face. “Want to talk about it?”

"Does Warren usually do that whole pick-up line thing with everyone?" You ask, Daisy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What pick-up line thing?" Daisy says, not understanding what you were talking about.

"It's just... It just seems ridiculous now that I'm going to tell someone." You let out a laugh, and Daisy still looks lost on the subject. "It's just that lately he's always been hitting on me, or complimenting me whenever he can…"

Daisy looked surprised, she arched her eyebrows and a smile spread across her face. You shake your head, feeling ridiculous for thinking maybe he was actually interested in you.

"Nevermind, it's ridiculous." You say, trying to focus on your notebook but the heat on your cheek wouldn't let you.

"Wait wait, so you're telling me that Warren is flirting with you?" Daisy had a look on your face that couldn't quite name, so you just nod. "Oh my God, I knew it!"

"Excuse me?" You ask, lost in her words. "What do you mean?" Your heart was pounding on your chest.

"I mean, it's obvious that he likes you," Daisy says with a smirk, strumming a few chords on her guitar. "Every time you're around, he's practically glowing."

You let out a small laugh, feeling relieved yet nervous. "I don't know, I mean, he's my coworker and I don't want to make things awkward between us."

Daisy puts down the guitar and turns to you, placing a reassuring hand on your knee. "Trust me, I've seen this before. Sometimes you just have to take a chance on someone and see where it goes."

You look at Daisy, feeling grateful for her support. "What do you suggest I do?"

Daisy thinks for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across her face. "I suggest you give him a taste of his own medicine. Flirt back a little, see how he reacts."

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a little hesitant. "I don't know if I'm good at that."

Daisy gives you a playful nudge. "Come on, it's all in good fun. And who knows, you might actually enjoy it."

You nod, feeling a little more confident. "Okay, I'll give it a try."

Daisy claps her hands, looking pleased with herself. "That's what I like to hear! Now, let's get back to these lyrics."

As you both return to working on the song, you can't help but feel a little excited about the possibility of something more with Warren.

…

Warren was sitting on the other side of the room, you walked in and he took his gaze to you immediately watching you with a smile on his face. You take a deep breath, remembering Daisy's words, you let out without thinking.

You walk up to him. "Hey there, handsome," you say with a playful smile.

Warren looks up at you, surprised by your sudden flirtation. He stammers for a moment before finally responding, "Uh, hey. What's up hermosa?"

As soon as you see the blush rising on Warren's cheeks, you can't help but feel a sense of pride and excitement. It's as if you've just won a game that you've been practicing for ages. You smile to yourself, feeling like you've finally accomplished something that you've been wanting to do for a long time.

"Nothing much, just wanted to come over and say hi," you say, trying to keep up the playful tone. "But I have to admit, I'm enjoying making you a little shy."

Warren lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm not used to this, you know. Usually, it's me doing the flirting," he says, still looking a little flustered.

"Well, maybe it's time for a change," you say, feeling encouraged by his reaction. "Who knows, maybe I'll be the one making you blush all day long."

Warren looks at you with a mix of surprise and amusement, but you can tell that he's enjoying the attention. You spend the rest of the day playfully flirting with him, and every time he blushes or stammers, you feel a sense of satisfaction and pride.

You couldn't believe how good it felt to flirt with Warren. All day long, you kept up your teasing and pick-up lines, enjoying the way he blushed and stumbled over his words. Each time he seemed caught off guard, your confidence grew, and you felt a newfound boldness you hadn't known before.

In the break room, you caught him staring at you as you filled up your coffee cup.

"You know, I'm pretty sure this coffee isn't the only thing that's hot around here." you said with a grin.

Warren choked on his own sip of coffee, coughing as he tried to regain his composure. You couldn't help but giggle at the effect you had on him.

Later you find him at the drums playing around with some ideas he had, realizing it was just the two of you. You see another opportunity and approach him, he watches you and already smiles, imagining what could come.

"You know pretty boy, I kinda have a thing for drummers in rock bands." You lean lightly on the drums, winking at him.

"Do you?" He says, his low voice reaching your ears like honey. "Well this drummer right here really is into you, actually…"

"Is that so?" You try to maintain your posture, but it's impossible to deny that every time he smiles your legs give way.

Warren comes out from behind the drums, approaching you, his proximity makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, he doesn't take his eyes off yours and you could spend hours looking into those eyes. When you can already feel his breathing is when he stops, his hands rest on your waist and your breathing becomes increasingly uneven.

"I mean it cariño, I really like you." He whispers, and you feel your heart give up. "I don't think I've ever met someone as unique as you and holy shit I love it. I'm addicted to you, everything that you do, every detail of your face I just can't get enough of your presence… Damn you make me want to get up early to come work in this studio, don't get me wrong, I love my job... My point is, you make everything better."

You didn't expect his words, an involuntary smile takes over your face and you take your hands to his curls, he smiles at the touch caressing your waist pulling you closer to him. He licks his lips bringing his eyes to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, you nod and he does so.

As Warren's lips meet yours, you feel a jolt of electricity surge through your body. His kiss is gentle and passionate, and it feels like he's been waiting to do this for a long time. You respond to him with equal fervor, your hands slipping up into his hair and your body pressing against his. The kiss is sweet and tender, yet full of longing and desire. You can feel your heart racing in your chest as the kiss deepens, and you wrap your arms around Warren, not wanting this moment to end. As you finally break the kiss, you look up into his eyes and see the same passion and affection that you feel reflected back at you.

"I'm addicted to you too." You manage to say, still mesmerized by his eyes.

He places several kisses on your lips, and you smile at his act. "Let me take you out? Promise you, no more cheesy pick up lines."

"I would accept this invitation even if you spend the whole time hitting on me." You say and he smiles, wasting no time closing the space between you.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

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[pityslash]

— “IN THE WATER.”

SHIP: bakugo x fem reader

DESCRIPTION: one year unexpectedly turned into two, you start to think all hope is lost in the apocalypse. spoiler warning: the real danger in the zombie apocalypse isn't the dead, it's the living.

TW: short series, apocalypse au, rawr rawr zombies & mild gore, descriptions of a panic attack, friends to lovers, main character injury.

　　I. WHO ARE YOU?

“please let there be something other than canned beans.”

you stood watch in front while he was looking around the back aisles. you two were in search of food, but everything else has been wiped out already. you weren’t excited about moving onto the next town.

it was cold out, you bury your face in the scarf around your neck when a shiver runs down your spine. occasionally you would see a few undead stumble towards you, empty eyes and its jaw hanging loose. you always took care of them quickly, you just have to aim for the head. “katsuki.”

it’s been years since everything turned to shit. when the bitten were who you feared and everyone you knew was gone. sacrifice or idiocy, it didn’t matter. but sometimes, you’ll catch a glimpse of the survivors —they always traveled in groups and you wanted to avoid them at all costs.

you had to remind yourself what kind of people would be left over, what morals they have.

the screams met deaf ears when katsuki saved you from this other man, grabbing his neck and throwing his body on the ground, the eyes of horror before getting a shot to the head. you shift slowly, shards of glass dig into your hands as he comes closer.

“you killed them.” you hated the way your voice trembles. blood leaks out of the holes in their heads, your throat tightens and aches like you’re about to cry.

it was like static noise on television, the buzz of city life only a memory in the back of your mind. now all you hear was the groaning of the undead, and the screams of those who weren’t resourceful enough.

your small moment of peace doesn't last long, broken by the slide of the glass door behind you and a pair of footsteps. you don't need to look over your shoulder to know who it is. “there’s nothing but dog food. some fucks must have found our stash.”

you can’t hide the disappointment on your face and it makes katsuki roll his eyes, pushing up the safety lever on the beretta 92 before sliding it back into the band around his waist. “i see more revenants coming this way, let’s go.”

katsuki holds out a hand and you take it.

the man took a glance at your arms and legs and you knew what you’d see from the excruciating agony. “yeah, should i have left you for dead?” he kicks your leg with his shoe, “maybe i’ll shoot you anyway, just in case.”

in case you were bitten? you were bleeding too much for it to be a bite.

“no— of course not!”

you hold your breath, bruised cheeks burning and you felt dizzy when he raised the pistol again, unblinking and focused. “stop yelling, jackass.” you can’t even look at him directly.

you’re shaking and everything hurts, and the blood everywhere makes you so scared, the gun pointed at you makes you so scared. it was the ease with which he saved your life, the complete lack of hesitation.

“keep zoning out and you’ll get lost again.”

“that was one time.” you take a deep breath, the smell of wet grass doing little to calm your nerves about being in the open like this. “how much further?”

“just a few miles.” katsuki says quietly, not a hint of hostility in his voice for the first time, and you nod, fighting to get your breathing under control. you wished, more than anything, that you had your anxiety medication.

“hey, relax. before you make yourself pass out,”

it took a long time to gain his trust, having to pack up the bedding while he took care of the rest before you two made it to the city, in case you made a run for it with days worth of food. the hours and hours on your feet and the whining while this man told you to shut up, struggling through a harsh winter.

but he was true to his word.

“it looks abandoned.” you look up at the house with boarded up windows and a wooden fence, it was too quiet. “wanna do it?” the sky was pretty and clear, finally warming up but that meant the undead would venture out again, too. katsuki sighs, “we can’t be too sure, be careful.”

you duck behind the car halfway up the driveway and creep up the stairs of the front porch.

the slits between the boards give you a limited view inside, seeing only the first room but there was a gate leading to the backyard, though it was chained up. katsuki kept watch while you tried the knob. it was locked, of course.

you share a glance and he held his gun at the ready with a nod. pulling out the crowbar from your backpack, you pry at the door as quietly as possible, the sound of wood splintering. it took a few tries but you finally eased the door open.

you two searched the house, both floors came up empty besides a few dead animals. there were four bedrooms, one belonging to a young girl and you wondered about the kind of family who once lived here.

smudged pencil marks on the door frame, glittery princess stickers peeling off the yellow walls. you find out the girl’s name and it didn’t make you feel any better.

the sun was setting so you two settled in for the night, putting your sleeping bags down in the living room and lighting a small candle. the house was empty and wasn’t completely falling apart. “here, take it.”

he was giving up his share. you offer half of the jerky and he reluctantly takes it, the grumble of his stomach enough to shut his mouth.

“thanks.”

for miles all that could be heard was the sound of running water and kicking a stone on the road, that random tune that got stuck in your head last night.

the sun was high in the sky and it reminded you that you’d have to meet with katsuki at noon. you were the one who suggested the split up to cover more ground even if he was reluctant.

“is it too early for lunch?” you asked no one, digging through your bag for the last of the jam and bread you packed before leaving home. things were getting harder every day, and you two were getting more and more frustrated when you came back empty handed.

you take a bite out of the bread and savor the blueberry jam, rich and sweet. katsuki would always tell you to make it last, maybe you’ll save him half.

you finally made it back to the market. those things always wandered about, and the place was too big to just walk inside hoping for the best.

so you knock your crowbar against the tile floor to call out any more undead but there was only silence. you start to go through the mess. sunflower seeds, some dented cans of tuna and fried apples, it must have been luck.

you were looking at the arrangement of dead flowers and think about taking a magazine with a cover that caught your eye, but then you heard a scream.

there’s gunshots and names thrown around as you rush over to see the commotion. you quickly see more undead thanks to all the noise, hoping katsuki wouldn’t come this way, because you could be stuck here for a while.

two kids were cornered just across the street, it used to be a barber shop, those disgusting things getting closer and closer. leave them or give into the last bit of humanity you had. “hey, this way!”

you call out to them from the other side, it was a little girl standing in front of the boy, who you assume was her brother. she cried in frustration when the gun clicked each time she pulled the trigger. revenants are fast, but they’re clumsy, so you could be faster.

you stab two in the head without breaking a sweat, they fall to the ground with a hollow thump. you make a run for it since more were drawn by the noise. “come on!”

they caught up quickly, the scraping of that girl’s shoes against the cement makes you want to cover your ears. “katsuma!” you hear from behind, turning to see her pick him up from the ground. he tripped.

“hurry!” you might have pushed their backs too hard if the squeak that left the boy’s mouth was any tell, struggling to keep up with their small legs. then you notice the alley, taking a sharp turn and yanking their arms to pick them up.

suddenly you were inside a heavy metal door, it was dark and they whisper as you slide down the handle and there’s a click.

“quiet,” you shush them, using your own body to shield them if worst turns to worst. you feel the boy bury his face in your shirt, grossed out by tears and snot, and the little girl squeezed your hand, so tight it felt like it’d bruise.

you were horribly out of breath, maybe even scared. but the undead finally passed —waiting a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. you listen as the groans and growls get far enough, taking a deep inhale and slowly moving away from the cool surface.

it was alright.

“we’re safe now.“ but you can't even turn back before there is something cold on the back of your head. this time she holds the gun with confidence, fingers on the trigger.

“put your hands up and close your eyes.” you feel your blood boil, the tone of this girl’s voice not sitting right but maybe that was the point. “don’t do anything dumb.. take the bag.”

you noticed the boy, katsuma, had dried the tears from his face and started to walk over while you slowly took off your backpack, which he took with shaky hands. “so i just saved you and now you’re robbing me?”

he must have been surprised it felt so heavy.

the girl snatches it from him. “we were fine, didn’t ask for your help.” sure seemed like it. you turn your head and watch her digging around in your backpack and you know katsuki will kill you.

“we’ll just take this, thanks. keep your eyes closed and count to fifty before you go.” she said, and for some reason you did.

the silence after their small footsteps fade out, even with your keen ear. you finally found katsuki waiting for you anxiously outside of the market.

“i heard the gunshots. what happened?” he was quick to ask and you were never one to hold back from him. too bad he was as upset as you expected. “—but you’re alright?”

the question made your smile get bigger, and you feign a small limp. “mm, i twisted my ankle so bad.” katsuki didn’t look impressed. “anyway.. katsuki, they could have been with a group, don’t you think? maybe they got separated.”

you made it home before dark. when you finally are able to shake off the feeling of being watched, you collapse on a chair in the dining room, the legs scraping against the floor loudly. katsuki drops his bag on the table and you make grabby hands, “so, what’s for dinner?”

“beans. and more beans.”

the look you give him makes katsuki glare back, opening the lid of one can. “don’t complain! next time, don’t let some kid take our shit.”

you snatch a can of beans and katsuki rolls his eyes, spoon flinging a bean at you from across the table. “didn’t your mom ever tell you not to play with your food?” but katsuki only gives a half smile, and it makes dimples dig into his cheeks. you swear you haven’t seen him smile before, or maybe you never noticed.

you two eat in silence and start to get ready for bed, doing one last house check and finally putting out the light. you stayed up a little longer though, wrapped in a small matted blanket as those kids have yet to leave your mind.

glancing out the window, stars bright in the unpolluted sky, you hoped they had a safe place to sleep tonight. you sigh and finally close your eyes, not that it makes a difference in the dark.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x you #apocalypse au #bakugou fic #mha x you #bakugou angst #mha x y/n #my writing

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: mentions of death, anxiety attacks!

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

you GUYS this CHAPTER is a DOOZY. I’m so excited and also kind of jittery lmao. you wanted the secret keeper’s story? you got it fam

part twenty-eight

❝ THE TRUTH ❞

MONDAY — AUGUST 17 — 7:52PM

ON MINUTE ELEVEN, WHEN THE WHOLE CABIN WAS QUIET APART FROM THE STORM OUTSIDE, BENTLEY STEPPED TOWARD THE TRAPDOOR.

“No! Please don’t leave me up here by myself,” Nico begged, lurching forward and latching onto Bentley like some kind of leech. His fists were balled up in the left sleeve of the redhead’s jacket so hard his hands were shaking. (Or maybe they’d already been shaking, which was probable.)

Bentley met his big blue eyes, half hidden by his blonde hair, which were properly watering now. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be fast. You can come if you want.”

Nico sniffled even though his tears hadn’t fallen yet. “I want to go home.”

Bentley said nothing, but attempted a reassuring smile like Bruce always did. He, too, had nerves buzzing beneath his skin, threatening to vibrate him across the floor, but Asten was right; they couldn’t give up now. They’d come so far (literally.) and this might’ve been exactly what they were looking for. The key to taking down the Secret Keeper, to becoming a Wayne, to saving his family. So no matter how (not) scared, (not) anxious, and (not) desperate to go back to the Manor Bentley was, he was going to do it. He had to win.

“Guys…” Asten’s voice floated up from the dark abyss. Bentley could see the light from his flashlight go brighter and darker, like he was moving it around the room. 

Bentley went for the stairwell, and, because Nico’s grip wasn’t letting up, he shuffled along behind him.

They took the dark stairs one step at a time. Bentley heard Nico gasp every time a piece of wood groaned under their weight. There was no telling what was down there — what Asten was seeing. There could’ve been people tied up. The newly missing citizens whose bodies hadn’t been found yet, or people that were… dead. There could’ve been dead bodies down there.

Bentley swallowed thickly, his heart whamming in his ribcage as they neared the bottom of the dimly illuminated staircase. All he could really see were plywood walls and a concrete floor.

And then Asten came into view.

He was standing with his back toward them, completely still, his flashlight aimed right ahead. The basement was big — the parts Bentley could see, anyways — and he was pointing the light at the farthest wall; a concrete wall. 

It was long, and seemed to be full of… square doors? At least two dozen, lined in two rows. It reminded Bentley of something Alfred had in the butler’s kitchen — tall metal fridges with a bunch of square doors. But these weren’t those, these were made into the wall. Each door had a sticker on the front, some green, some yellow, and some red, but Bentley couldn’t read them from where they stood.

“Ah merda,” Asten muttered under his breath. Nico made a strange little squeak, and while Bentley couldn’t quite see him in the dark, he thought he felt what may have been his forehead land against the back of his shoulder.

He was obviously missing something wrong. What was it?

“What is that?” Bentley whispered, hardly audible. Asten opened and closed his mouth a few times, eyes not leaving the doors. 

“It’s a morgue,”

Bentley said nothing. What was a morgue?

Asten cleared his throat, not looking back at them. “You… know what that is, ginger?”

“No…” Bentley muttered. Nico was crying. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what a morgue was.

Asten ran a hand over his blue hair. “It’s where they put people. After they… die. Morgues are… only supposed to be in hospitals.”

Bentley took a deep breath, his brown eyes bouncing across all of the metal doors. There were dead people in there?

They were in the room with a bunch of dead people? 

Bentley fought away the slight vertigo that threatened to take over as he stared at the doors. Tons of them. Dozens of them. With dead people inside.

In an attempt to distract himself in absolutely any way possible, he kept looking around the room. He couldn’t see much from the flashlight’s beam, but he did catch a pile of boxes to the left, and a large desk with a computer monitor to the right.

He felt Nico’s grip leave his arm, and the telltale rattle-rattle-rattle-hiss-hiss of his inhaler came from over Bentley’s left shoulder.

They were in a basement full of dead people.

Bentley’s mind was only brought back to him when Asten dared to step closer to the doors, shining the flashlight on the closest door’s red sticker.

The words came into focus for Bentley in the light — OLIVIA WRIGHT, THE VOID.

Bentley blinked. He knew that name; both of them. Olivia Wright was a girl that went missing after seeing the Secret Keeper — presumed dead. The Void was a portal-shooting metahuman that the Wayne’s fought on patrol not too long ago.

Bentley heard Asten let out a puff of air, moving the beam of light to the door to the left, another red sticker. This one looked like someone had attempted to rip it off. Half of the words were missing, but the name THE SECRET KEEPER was still clearly visible.

The next sticker was green, with a yellow one haphazardly placed on top. Bentley stayed rooted to the concrete floor as Asten carefully peeled the yellow one up to read the green one.

DAVIS HENDERSON, THE REAPER.

Bentley breathed out. Davis Henderson. The waiter from the bar.

The yellow sticker on top only said one word: COMPROMISED.

Asten moved to the next one, a red sticker with a yellow one beside it.

TITUS LANCASTER, PATHFINDER, the red one said. COMPROMISED, replied the yellow.

Titus Lancaster — the twelve-year-old boy who went missing. Whose parents…

Bentley took a breath, blinking a few times to steel himself.

The next sticker was green. AMANDA TODRYK, THE RAVEN.

Asten froze there.

Bentley’s own thoughts seemed to startle him enough to make him flinch. It was her. It was Mandy Todryk — they’d found her. They’d actually, legitimately found her.

It didn’t feel near as good as he thought it would.

Asten grabbed the handle.

“What are you doing?! Don’t you dare!” Nico ordered in a violent whisper muffled by his crying, brushing past Bentley’s shoulder toward their friend. “Are you insane? Are you insane?! We have to go, we have to call the police!”

Asten’s hand just hovered there. He was staring intently at the door, and Bentley couldn’t see much of his face, but he could imagine his signature stormy eyes.

“Asten!” Nico pleaded. Like his near-shout was a pulse of adrenaline, Asten jerked on the handle, and the door popped open.

All three of them froze.

The square hole was deep, almost the size of a coffin, and vapor billowed out when the door was opened like it was refrigerated. Laying in that coffin-like-hole, the top of her head facing them, was Amanda Todryk. Amanda Todryk. She was staring at the ceiling of the box she was in, her light eyes unseeing, her skin whiter than a ghost and lips a ghastly blue. 

Bentley’s hand found his mouth before he told it to. It was really cold in there. Asten didn’t make a sound other than a slow exhale, his green eyes focused, frozen. 

Amanda Todryk was dead. They were staring at her body.

Bentley felt like he was going to pass out.

His mind — God, he couldn’t focus, he couldn’t focus on anything — drifted and wandered and only floated back when Nico turned on a dime, took maybe a half step toward him, and threw up all over the floor.

Bentley couldn’t move. Not when the quiet thunk of Asten closing the door came, not when Nico sat down in the concrete and started well-and-truly sobbing. Bentley felt like he’d swallowed a bee hive. Like he was vibrating into numbness, like he was in some dark, cold place and he couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t hear anything.

He wanted to go home.

A few more clicks and thunks came from the wall. Some distant part of Bentley’s mind told him that meant Asten was opening and closing the other doors. 

A blur of time passed. Asten was at the computer — when had he walked over there?

For a while, the only occasional sounds in the basement were Asten typing, and periodic rattling from Nico’s inhaler. 

They’d broken into a house and found a dead body. They’d broken into a house and found a dead body. They’d broken into a house and found a dead body.

“Ginger, come look at this,” Asten ordered. Bentley’s legs numbly carried him over to the desk without much thought — he wasn’t thinking very well anyhow. He wanted to go home.

There was a folder of videos pulled up on the screen. Each one had a different title, starting at SUBJECT ONE and ending at SUBJECT SEVENTY-NINE.

Asten clicked on subject one.

The video began to play, and a sterile white lab appeared on the screen. The only thing in the frame besides the floor, wall, and ceiling, was a large, white machine that stood probably two Bentleys tall. A conglomerate of machinery sat on top of it, as well as a button panel to the side covered with multicolored, glowing buttons.

“This is Dr. A. R. Keene. The date is March twenty-ninth, year two of the genome sequencing study. This is video number B101,” Their teacher’s voice came through the screen, though they couldn’t see him. “The Synchronizer, after it's year-long trial phase, is in complete working order. Now, the human testing will begin.”

The camera angle moved slightly as though the device had been bumped, and someone chuckled behind the camera.

“Charlie has ever-so-willingly offered herself up as test Subject One,” Said Dr. Keene, sounding a little exasperated. 

A gasp came from off camera, and then a female voice chimed: “C’mon, dad! I can’t let you rise to scientific fame without me! And why are you sounding so proper? You said these recordings are just for you.”

Bentley blinked when a girl came into the frame — young, probably around Jason’s age. She had shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and large, piercing blue eyes. She crouched down in front of the camera and crossed her eyes, sticking her tongue out with an audible blegh noise. She was wearing a royal purple dress that, oddly enough, Bentley thought Steph owned, too.

“They’re also for my boss. He wants complete reassurance that the process is safe for his son. That’s quite enough, Charlie,” Dr. Keene sighed, and she stopped making faces and rolled her eyes instead. “Recent blood and DNA work goes to show that Charlie does not have the genetic mutation which turns common people into, what the press call, metahumans.”

The screen of a tablet appeared on the monitor when someone (supposedly Dr. Keene) held it there, full of charts and notes Bentley couldn’t really read. It disappeared just as fast.

Charlie sighed, glancing down at her nails. “Blah, blah, blah, science, science, science. Can we do this thing now?”

Dr. Keene sighed, and a few sounds came from behind the camera. “The internal Neuron Amplification System has been implemented inside the Subject for seventy-two hours. She’s reported minimal pain, and responds immediately to orders. The Subject has no memory of actions taken when the NeuroAmp is active.” 

“I forgot to tell you, I woke up sore yesterday from all the hurdles you made me run. Maybe you can mind control me to go workout. Then I won’t remember hating it!” Charlie chuckled. She leaned forward and began to twist at her blonde curls like she could see herself in the camera.

“It’s Neuron Amplification, Charlie, not mind control,” He deadpanned. Charlie flicked a hand toward the camera.

“You make me do whatever you want and I don’t remember it. Pretty sure that’s mind control,” She said with a sarcastic smile. “It’s fine; I trust you, dad. Just don’t read my mind.”

“I can’t read your mind,” He replied with a sigh. “Shall we begin?”

Charlie jumped to her feet, only her legs visible in the frame. “Heck yeah!”

Dr. Keene moved onto the screen. He looked normal — maybe a little younger? — and he was wearing a stark white lab coat that fell to his knees. There was a symbol on the back of the coat, small and subtle.

“That’s the symbol that was branded on the Secret Keeper’s head,” Asten whispered. Bentley watched in silence as Dr. Keene tapped buttons on the keypad next to the big machine. A loud whirring and beeping came, and the whole front of the machine was lifted up and out of the frame, revealing a yellow, padded interior shaped like a person. There were metal clamps on the wrists, ankles, and torso.

“Please enclose subject,” Came a robotic female voice.

Charlie hopped inside like she was excited to get in the thing. She lined up with the person shaped padding, and the metal clamps closed around her.

“The full DNA exchange process takes anywhere from half an hour to three hours, depending on the genetic makeup of the subject,” Dr. Keene continued to speak. “My guess is that Charlie’s will take more around the forty-five minute mark. I’ll continue the recording then.”

He pushed a few final buttons, and the machine closed around his daughter.

The video cut, and Dr. Keene’s face was suddenly right in the camera, his light eyes boring into their souls. “Charlie’s exchange is nearly complete. We’ll see how she reacts when she comes out, if the NeuroAmp still activates under her altered DNA, as well as testing if her newfound abilities come forth as predicted. In the future subjects, the NeuroAmp will be administered inside the Synchronizer,” He gestured to the machine.

“Exchange complete. Releasing subject,” Came the robotic voice again. Dr. Keene stood up and turned toward the Synchronizer, getting out of the way of the camera as it opened. What looked to be smoke plumed out of the opening, making it impossible for them to see Charlie.

And then she stumbled out.

Bentley inhaled sharply at the sight of her ever-familiar, stringy, platinum blonde hair. Charlie was breathing so hard he could hear it through the camera, and her eyes were squeezed shut so tightly it probably hurt.

“Charlie?” Dr. Keene questioned.

She snapped her eyes open, and Bentley gasped: “Oh my God.”

Her eyes were amber, and glowing.

Dr. Keene… had he.. he had turned his daughter into the Secret Keeper.

“Dad?” She blinked, looking around the room. “Did it work?”

“I’m activating your NeuroAmp now,” He replied. Bentley watched as Dr. Keene merely stared at Charlie for a solid five seconds, before she stilled and stared back. Another person came into view — a man in what looked to be a white janitor jumpsuit on the other end of the room.

“I can use verbal commands to activate the NeuroAmp, or simply think of the actions I wish for her to undertake. For example; kill him,” Dr. Keene ordered.

Without any hesitation or awareness, with a hauntingly blank expression on her face, Charlie — the Secret Keeper — turned to the janitor-looking man. She cocked her head slightly, and his eyes turned amber. Blood began to run out of his nose, then his ears, then his eyes, and he collapsed without a sound.

“Internal NeuroAmp is functioning at full capacity. Subject has lost all free will,” Dr. Keene recorded. “Transition from human to metahuman is complete and whole — no visible genetic mutations or diseases recorded. Metahuman abilities confirmed to act just as predicted. I will take a full blood and DNA panel.” 

Charlie turned toward Dr. Keene and held out her arm without hesitation, like he was about to take her blood. “I will email you the panel results and new DNA makeup, Mister Whittaker. You were right — we’re having a breakthrough. As of our first full conversion, the metahuman DNA exchange seems safe for Bentley. More tests and subjects will be sent to you for further analysis. We will destroy Batman — I can assure you that.”

Bentley froze.

Mister Whittaker was the boss Dr. Keene was talking about?

Bentley’s father was the one who’d created the Secret Keeper? Who was turning normal people into metahumans?

He didn’t even realize he was falling over until Asten caught him firmly by the shoulders, ordering: “Nico! Get that chair!”

Nico must’ve been nearby, because Bentley was sitting in a chair he didn’t even know was down there what seemed to be a half-second later. 

His dad had been the man behind the Secret Keeper.

He was never going to get away from him, was he?

Bentley could feel arms on him — small ones that looped around his neck from behind.

He only snapped back to reality when Dr. Keene’s voice came again: “This is Dr. A. R. Keene, video B1701, coming to report urgent findings — Subject Eighteen is reacting rather negatively to the DNA exchange.”

When Bentley worked up the willpower to look at the screen, there was a hospital bed sitting in the center of a solid white room, with a very small person laying it. They had black hair on their head and ghastly pale skin, but Bentley couldn’t pinpoint their face.

“Subject Eighteen’s body seems to be rejecting the newly transformed DNA. Symptoms include: fever up to a-hundred-and-five degrees, severe vomiting and abdominal pain, delirium, fatigue, vertigo, periodic loss of consciousness, severe sweating, and bouts of severe and intense pain described as burning,” Dr. Keene explained. “Titus Lancaster is our youngest subject, therefore we are getting our hands on a few younger than him to see if they share the same reaction. As for right now, we are keeping close tabs on his condition and caring for him as best we can. Sickness ensued as soon as he emerged from the Synchronizer, and has remained constant over the past ninety-six hours. His abilities have yet to be tested. His NeuroAmp is unresponsive in his current delirious and/or unconscious state.”

The screen went black, then a white wall with a large window appeared.

“This is Dr. A.R. Keene, video log B2301, regarding Subject Eighteen’s recent health issues — the sickness, after five days, seemed to resolve itself. Titus’s NeuroAmp is still unresponsive, so he’s scheduled for surgery to implant a new one on August twenty-ninth. As of now, since I am unable to control him, we have him in an enclosed space suitable for someone with his abilities. Titus, if you would, make yourself visible to the camera,” 

After a few moments of silence, Titus Lancaster appeared out of thin air with a whoosh on the other side of the large window. A white hospital gown hung loosely on his small frame, starkly contrasting his deep, nearly black hair. He had large, gray eyes that were bloodshot, and his face was lined with tear-streaks. Where had he come from?

“Please — perform your abilities so Dr. Whittaker can witness them,” 

Titus looked straight into the camera through the glass that was keeping him enclosed. Directly into it, like he was staring into Bentley’s very soul. ‘Please help me.’ He mouthed.

“None of that, boy. Do as I say or you’ll be punished,”

On command, there was a whoosh and a blur of color, and Titus appeared a few feet away from his previous spot. Then again, a whoosh, and he was back where he’d started.

“As you can see, he has the ability to teleport anywhere in the world, so long as he’s seen it before. We have him enclosed in a box of electromagnetic pulses that he can’t travel through until we get his NeuroAmp implanted,” Dr. Keene explained from off-screen. “We’re keeping a close eye on his health and wellness. As of now, he is the fastest Metahuman to grasp their abilities. Besides Charlie. Other young children have undergone the exchange without health issues, so we aren’t quite sure what caused his sickness. Thank you, Titus,” Dr. Keene said, and the boy whooshed out of sight. “Bless him; he prefers to stay in the rafters of his enclosure like some kind of bird at the zoo.”

The video ended.

Asten moved the cursor around and clicked on one of the videos at the bottom. The screen came up, and the camera was pointing at the floor and shaking so badly Bentley couldn’t even tell what was happening — like someone was running with it.

“This is Dr. A.R. Keene, video log B5301. This is regarding Subject Seventy-One- no! Don’t go back until Charlie gets here!” There was a muffled shout in the background, but the camera kept shaking. “Subject Seventy-One suffered extreme emotional trauma by seeing another subject he once knew — his NeuroAmp is unresponsive to me, and his abilities have grown dangerous and deadly. He’s killed at least twenty-five…”

There was muffled running footsteps. “He is attempting to escape the facility. Charlie! I need you to knock Davis out, cold, and keep him down until I can fix his NeuroAmp.”

Davis. The waiter.

“Yes, father,”

“Abilities seem to grow more powerful, volatile in the presence of extreme emotional stress. This is common knowledge, as a natural metahuman’s powers typically surface under extreme circumstances. Davis holds the power of death — he can kill anything living just by touching it! But-but under such stress, death seems to radiate from him like a slow-moving shockwave. People who can’t even see him are dying rooms away as his radius of death gets bigger. I… I’ll send you more tests with severe emotional stimuli with other Subjects who aren’t quite so deadly!”

The video ended, and Asten navigated to another one.

“This is Dr. A.R. Keene, video log B8601,” Their teacher was actually in the camera this time, sitting ahead of a solid white wall, the camera trained on his face. “Regarding Subject Seventy-Nine, Amanda Todryk. My initial DNA scans revealed that she already had the genetic makeup of a metahuman whose powers hadn’t surfaced yet. I would typically dispose of her, because I avoid messing with the DNA of already established metahumans, but I put her in the Synchronizer just for research's sake.”

He looked down, like he had a clipboard or tablet in his hand. “And she responded very pleasantly to the DNA exchange. It didn’t destroy her former DNA like I thought, but actually fused itself into it. The synchronizer endowed her with the abilities I chose for her — the ability to fly — and after the fact, I had Charlie work her magic in Amanda’s mind; traumatize her enough to awaken her natural metahuman powers. Funny enough, they’re the most cliche superpowers of this age — the ability to commune with animals. Now, Amanda is in good health, her NeuroAmp is working, and she has two fully functional abilities. The ability to fly, and commune with animals. She lives in an enclosure with a flock of Ravens.”

Dr. Keene tapped a few times on the tablet they couldn’t see. “Since she’s so stable, I’m sending her to the cryogenic waiting facility on the outskirts of Somerset to await release. You know the address.”

Cryogenic? Cryogenic meant… freezing stuff, didn’t it? Was Mandy just frozen? Not dead?

“Give me the word when you want me to release her into Gotham and I’ll let her out. I use-“

The video was suddenly drowned out by a wham! that came from upstairs. Asten’s hand flew up and closed all the tabs on the computer, flicking the power button.

Someone was upstairs. Upstairs where the cabin was a wreck. Upstairs where the rug was moved and the trapdoor was standing wide open.

Asten hardly looked at Bentley and Nico before he had ahold of each of their wrists, pulling them across the room. “Don’t make a sound,” He whispered almost inaudibly, so quiet Bentley didn’t even know how he’d done it. 

Bentley obeyed. There wasn’t much he could do, anyways. His mind was nothing more than panic and sadness and fear and anger and rage and terror all mixed together in a loud static that made him feel… nothing. Empty. There were so many things floating around in his head — Charlie, Dr. Keene turning normal people into metahumans, Davis, Titus, Bruce. It was so much that he couldn’t focus.

Asten pulled one of the fridges with a red sticker open, and Nico flinched away harshly — but much to Bentley’s surprise, there was no body inside. “Get in. Now.”

Footsteps thudded around the cabin above them, dust falling from the hardwood and settling on the concrete floor.

Nico, terrified, climbed in, and Asten shut the door. Then he opened another one with a red sticker — empty. Maybe that’s what red meant.

Bentley climbed in without hesitation. It was cold — the concrete box. Really cold. It went pitch black when Asten closed the door with a thump.

And he sat. 

He couldn’t hear anything very good anymore, but he thought he might’ve heard footsteps. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His hands — no, his whole body was trembling but he couldn’t make it stop. It wasn’t from the cold. Colors were swirling in his vision even though all he could see was black, and if felt like someone was tying something around his throat  — like he was going to choke and die.

He wanted to go home so bad. Why couldn’t they just live normally? Why was his father, Dr. Keene… why were they doing this? 

His heartbeat sounded like a gong in his ears. His lungs seemed to be spasming for air, but he forced them with every bit of willpower left in his whole body to stop so he wouldn’t wheeze, so he wouldn’t give himself away. Everything just needed to stop. It all needed to stop. How was he supposed to make it all stop when it was spinning so fast he couldn’t see?

He heard someone thump thump thump down the steps.

He could hardly make out the difference between their footsteps and his own heartbeat. It sounded like explosions in his ears, in his head, boom, boom, boom, deafening to everything else. He pulled his knees up close to his shaking body, wrapping his arms around himself, too. Something icy streaked across his face, and that’s when he realized he was crying.

God, he wanted Bruce. This was a terrible, terrible idea, and now they were going to die from it. They were literally going to die and Bruce would have no clue where or when or how or why until Bentley was nothing more than a memory.

There was a slam.

They were going to die.

Bentley didn’t dare let himself move, not an inch, until the door to the box was whipped open again.

“C’mon, Bentley. We’ve gotta go,” Asten’s voice was near his head, and suddenly he was being touched, tugged. He forced himself out of the box, and as soon as his feet hit the floor, he fell.

“Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey,” 

Bentley hardly noticed the strange maneuver Asten had to do to keep him from hitting the floor. He was on his knees, being held up by a pair of arms that were around him but were definitely not his own. 

“Hey, buddy,” Asten patted him on the back firmly, but he barely felt it. He barely felt anything besides his own trembling and the sobs tearing their way out of him. (It wasn’t helping that Nico was standing to their left, absolutely crying his eyeballs out, too.) “I know this sh- this stuff is scary, but you have to stay with me so we can get out. Please breathe.”

It was pitch black in the basement apart from the flashlight that was laying on the floor — where Asten had dropped it to catch him, he assumed. There was no light streaming from upstairs, which meant the trapdoor was closed.

Asten stood up, dragging Bentley with him. “Can you run?”

Running, right now, was the last thing Bentley felt like he could do. But it was also the only thing he could do to save his own life.

He nodded jerkily.

Asten grabbed their flashlight and turned to the staircase, creeping back up the stairs with his bag and light in hand.

Bentley glanced over at Nico, whose right hand seemed glued over his mouth. His face was flushed red and he sounded more like he was choking than actually crying. 

“C’mon, guys! He’s out back, I can see the beam of his flashlight!” Asten ordered. Both Nico and Bentley, both varying degrees of numb, pushed themselves forward.

Bentley couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe when Asten shoved them up the stairs, couldn’t breathe when they ran as fast as they could out the front door, couldn’t breathe when they bee-lined for the woods instead of the road they’d come down.

They were going to die.

“Bentley. Bentley, c’mon dude. Breathe. We gotta go,”

Bentley was trying to breathe, but he couldn’t. The air he managed to suck in was coming out as nothing more than painful wheezes, and his heart felt like it was going to rip his chest open. They were in the middle of a forest on the outskirts of Somerset, and not a single Wayne knew about it. The only sounds that came to his muffled ears were the crunching of leaves and the clinking of the crowbar against other tools in Asten’s toolbelt. Everything was a blur of black and dark and he could hardly see.

Nico was lagging behind, crying too hard to run properly. That was fine, because Bentley’s inability to breathe was making him pretty slow, too. 

“He’s freaking coming, you guys,” Asten whispered anxiously, whirling around and trying his best to keep the panic off of his face, for the sake of his younger friends. The crowbar hanging on his belt nearly hit Bentley in the stomach with the speed he pivoted. But Bentley was too focused on trying to get air into his lungs through his wheezy sobs and splutters to see Asten’s green eyes flick nervously between the two of them.

“Jesus…” He muttered, and Bentley felt Asten’s hand land on the side of his head. “Are you having a panic attack?”

Bentley was pretty sure he absolutely was. 

He wasn’t able to respond between the ragged breaths and cries that were forcing their way out of him, so he didn’t.

“Nico, can you-“

“I’m getting it!” The blonde exclaimed through sniffles and sobs of his own. He dug around in the pocket of his blue jacket, and Bentley heard the telltale shake of his inhaler right before the hiss of the medicine being released a couple times.

“Here,”

Bentley saw the quick exchange of the inhaler from hand to hand, and Asten started shaking it, leaning down farther so he could see Bentley’s face. His hand had moved from his head to his shoulder and stayed firmly there.

“You gotta breathe deep when I shove this thing in your mouth, Whittaker. It’ll help you breathe,”

Bentley nodded quickly, and Asten promptly put the inhaler in his mouth and pressed on it. He sucked in about as much air as he could force into his rebelling lungs.

“Perfect, just do it one more time,” Asten stated, moving his hand from Bentley’s shoulder to the back of his neck to keep his head in place. “Nico, you see anyone?”

“No,” He whimpered, his voice obstructed by his near endless crying. Asten pressed on the inhaler again, and Bentley made himself suck in what felt like a gallon of air. (It wasn’t actually that much air at all.) The medicine made him feel kind of woozy for a moment.

Asten kept his hand on Bentley, but stood up straighter and looked around the woods, behind them at the cabin they’d come out of. “We have to go. You think you can run? I will not hesitate to give you the most terrifying piggyback of your life.”

Bentley forced a few more breaths in and out, and while the inhaler wasn’t making his stomach stop cramping or his panic fade, he wasn’t gasping for air so much anymore. 

Nico squeaked, a high noise in the back of his throat, and jerked on the sleeve of Asten’s jacket and choked on a few more sobs. “I see him coming.” 

Bentley turned back, and the unmistakable ray of light coming from a flashlight not that far behind them made him want to curl up and die.

“Run, go,” Asten ordered, ushering Nico out in front of him. “You got it, Bentley?”

“I got it,” He murmured. Running from Somerset to Crime Alley probably wasn’t ideal for someone still in the midst of an anxiety attack, but he didn’t really have a choice at this point. Asten shoved Nico’s inhaler in Bentley’s jacket pocket, and they started running.

The cracking and crunching of leaves under their feet was nearly deafening in the pitch black, vacant forest, and the dim light from the moon and stars were their only source of vision, as Asten’s flashlight had been abandoned when Bentley wasn't paying attention. Asten stayed in the back, behind them like some kind of bodyguard. 

Bentley was so focused on not falling and not throwing up and not hyperventilating that he shouted in fear when there was a loud metal CHINK! and Asten screamed.

Like actually screamed. Bentley hadn’t heard a sound like that since he’d been poisoned, and definitely not from Asten. It sent both him and Nico pivoting backwards instantly.

Asten was on his hands and knees in the leaves and dirt, heaving for shaky breaths, and there was a bear trap on his right leg.

There was a bear trap on his right leg.

“Oh my God!” Nico shouted, dropping to his knees next to him. Bentley stood in a mixture of shock and terror before Asten forced out the words:

“Get it off,”

He wasn’t crying, but he was batting tears out of his eyes. How was he not crying? How was he so okay? Bentley dropped down into the dirt on the other side of him, fighting to keep himself present.

Even in the dim light, Bentley could see the blood soaking through the leg of his pants. A lot of blood. And Asten was trembling, so Bentley put a hand on his side to give some kind of support. He had no idea how to remove a bear trap.

“These are freaking illegal-“ Nico was muttering (and still crying, now harder than he had been.) as he examined the trap, trying to figure out any way to get it off. 

And there were footsteps coming. Bentley had only just heard them, glancing up, and he could see the beam of a flashlight panning through the forest.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” Nico murmured, bringing one hand up to his mouth and sobbing into it. 

“Just…” Asten cursed under his breath, leaning into Bentley slightly. “Just take it out of the ground, and… and we’ll get it off later.”

“You’re going to drag a bear trap on your foot where? Onto a bus? A taxi maybe?!” Nico squeaked. Asten reached for his toolbelt and pulled out the crowbar, holding it out to Bentley. The footsteps and flashlight beam were getting closer, and they wouldn’t be able to get away in time.

“Bentley,” Asten said seriously, grabbing his shoulder with one hand and attempting to hide a grimace of pain. Bentley looked down at the long, cool piece of metal he put in his hands. Wasn’t getting beaten by a crowbar how Jason died all those years ago?

He didn’t have much time to think about it, because the footsteps were getting closer, and they weren’t going anywhere.

Asten was hit by a wave of trembling, and he squeezed Bentley’s shoulder. “When he gets here, beat the hell out of him.”

Bentley looked back at the flashlight in the woods. Nico was crying hysterically, hands hovering and gently touching the bear trap.

“Hey!” A voice came — Dr. Keene’s voice. A voice that would’ve been reassuring if Bentley’s life was normal. “Don’t move!”

He held tight to the crowbar, bringing it up in front of him, ready to swing. He’d never hit anybody like that before. What if he wasn’t strong enough?

Something thudded and bounced on the ground next to Asten. They all looked at it.

Was that a grenade?

The world went white.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

#batfamily #batman #batboys #oc; bentley whittaker #oc; bentley #mb; a hundred ways to become a wayne #oc; asten #oc; asten evans #oc; nico allen #oc; nico rockefeller #oc; nico #ov; the secret keeper #ov; secret keeper #ov; charlie reins #oc; titus lancaster #oc; titus #oc; davis henderson #oc; davis #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #barbara gordon #oracle #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #cassandra cain #orphan #tim drake #red robin

[yelenasdiary]

Different Kind of Love || Part VII 2/2

Pairing: CEO! MobBoss! Natasha Romanoff x Assistant! Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Working for Natasha was never easy and being a low-level assistant for the CEO wasn’t where you thought you’d be after working your hardest for 2 years. After catching you in tears on Christmas Eve, Natasha’s cold ways start to warm up.

DARK Themes | Language Warning | DARK! Natasha | Mentions of Blood | Details of Torture | Murder | Violence | SA Mentions | Brief Mentions of Anxiety | Dark Thoughts | Mentions of Suicide | Mentions of Depression | 5K | 

Notes: Dylan’s dialog is meant to sound like how a 5-year-old would talk and his nickname is Dyl and not a misspell.

I want to give a HUGE thank you to @daddynattt for helping me so much with this last chapter! It means a lot to me and I just know my readers will also be thankful xx

Different Kind of Love Masterlist

"Are you completely sure?" Natasha asked just to assure herself she heard you correctly as you stood in front of her. "I don't want to hear a single word about it. Do it, but don't tell me when or how or where. I never, ever want to hear his name come from your mouth again" you explained, your stomach turning at the idea, knowing you just asked Natasha to murder somebody for you. 

"That fee-"

"Save it, please. By morning, I want to take my son home and you and I" you paused for a moment after cutting her off, "you are my boss, I can't get involved with this" you added. 

"Y/n, you already are" Natasha informed you, "you're asking me to k-"

"I know what I'm asking of you" you stopped her from saying that one word. "I need space from you, I need space from all of this. Please understand that I'm thankful for everything you have done for Dylan and I…but I need you to just leave us alone" 

Your words hurt Natasha deeply as she nodded slowly, losing you as her best friend wasn't something she thought about if you had ever found out about her true business. She watched you walk away before downing a shot of vodka and for the first time in her life, she hated what she did for a living. 

Morning came a moment too quickly for you, Dylan woke up with a burst of energy as he woke you from the 20-minute nap you managed to get in from overthinking all night. "Mommy!! It's breakfast time!!" He shook you the best he could with a sparkle in his eyes, "come on mommy!!" he added. 

"I'm awake, you cheeky monster!" you attacked him with kisses over his cheek just to hear his precious giggle and just for those short moments you forgot about the world, just for a moment. "Can I please have ice cream for breakfast?" Dylan asked once he had calmed down, giving you his signature baby face and puppy eyes in hopes of convincing you. "I don't think so Mr!" you smiled softly while shaking your head, "how about we go out for breakfast this morning?" you suggested. 

"Can aunty Nat come?" Dylan pouted slightly. You looked at your son and did your best to let him down easy, not wanting to worry him about anything that you knew. "She's got work today darling, so I think she's a bit busy this morning but I'm sure we can do something with her again another time" you said, brushing his messy bed hair back, "lets to pack up your toys and get home for a bath then we can go to iHop for breakfast" you added. Dylan sighed as expected when a child doesn't usually get their own way. 

You were able to get yourself and Dylan out of Natasha's condo without seeing her, telling Dylan that she would've already left for work. He was sad that he couldn't see the woman he called his aunty, and you could only hope with some deep distractions, he'd get used to her not being around much anymore. 

----

"Can I dress myself today?" Dylan asked as he played with his bath toys while you washed the shampoo from his curly locks that you adore so much. "As long as it's not summer clothing" you smiled before pouring another jug of water through his hair.

While Dylan took his time finding his own fashion statement for the day, you took a moment to tidy up your apartment and charge your mobile. It wasn't a surprise when your phone was charged enough that you had plenty of unread text messages from your mother and Natasha. You couldn't help but stare at Natasha's worried messages for a moment without thinking about what she could possibly do to Kane. Would she torture him? Or would she make it something quick and he wouldn't feel anything? You snapped out of your thoughts when a text from your mother popped up at the top of your screen.

"Honey, please call me when you can! Your father and I are worried about you xo – mom"

Feeling like a young teenager again, you did what the message said and waited patiently for your mother's voice to bring you comfort. 

"Darling! Oh my god, are you okay?!" 

"Hey mom, I'm so sorry about not being in touch. I had a work meeting come up and Dylan was up sick last night, so I haven't had a chance to look at my phone" You've never lied as well as you did just now. 

"Oh, my poor baby, is he okay?" 

"Yeah, just a little too much ice cream" you chuckled, "I was wondering, are you and dad free today for me to drop Dylan off for a few days?" You asked already knowing the answer, but you just had to be sure. 

"Of course, honey but that's a long drive, will you stay with us too?" Your mother asked in her worried tone. 

"I have a lot of work to do so I can't stay, but I promise when I come to pick him up, I'll stay for a while" 

"Is it the court stuff? Because if so, your father and I want to be there for you. We'll come stay at a hotel if you need" Your stomach dropped, and your mind instantly thought about Natasha and what she would likely be doing today. 

"It's okay mom, I would rather keep Dylan away from it all but I promise to keep you guys updated on everything" you did your best to keep a convincing tone. "We should be at yours a little after lunch time, I promised Dylan breakfast at iHop on the way" you added with a soft smile on your face. 

"Alright darling, we will make sure we have everything he needs. What does he eat? Toys he likes? Anything I can get him, I will" 

"He loves his fruit and veg so he'll love your roast dinners for sure! He loves fire trucks at the moment but I'll make sure to pack him with plenty of toys and clothing. He is allergic to honey but I'll write down what he likes and doesn't" 

"Honey? That's new" 

"Trust my son to be one with a rare allergy" you chuckled just as Dylan came out into the living room dressed in sweaters, an orange t-shirt on inside out and his firefighter helmet. You chuckled at your son who stood proudly with a smile, "I'll send you a text message when we're on our way, I love you mom" you added and hung up after your mother said she loved you too. 

"Look at you! Come here so I can fix your t-shirt" you opened your arms wide for him to come running to you and that he did. "Do you like my outfit mommy?" he asked with his smile still wide and proud, "I love it honey! We just need to get you a hoodie or jacket and you're all set" you kissed his forehead before taking off his inside out shirt to fix. "I couldn't find my red hoodie" he pouted, his favorite hoodie that you had a struggle getting it off him and into the wash. "That's because it needed a wash but it should be in the tumble dryer" you pulled the t-shirt over his head and put his helmet back on, "there you go my little fire fighter" you smiled. 

"Can we go to breakfast now mommy? Please, I'm hungry" Dylan picked at the herm of his t-shirt as if he was nervous. 

"We will, but first we need to go pack some toys and clothes. You're going to go have a big sleep over with grandma and grandpa" 

"I am?!" Dylan's eyes widened at the news with excitement, "you are buddy! Why don't you go back some of your favourite toys in your paw patrol backpack, I'll get your red hoodie from the tumble dryer and pack you some clothes" you suggested with a soft smile. Dylan nodded quickly before racing off to his room once again. 

----

Natasha knew you and Dylan were gone before she even made her way to her large kitchen, dismissing her personal chef and making herself a pot of coffee as she tried to keep herself from tearing up. Her phone buzzed with messages from Bucky asking what the plan was only made her sigh deeply. She took a shower and took a moment to clear her mind. She was going to kill somebody today and not just anybody. 

She would kill Kane in a heartbeat if it meant she still had her closest friend but the thought of not being close to you anymore dawned on her, not seeing Dylan's adorable little smile, not being able to feel like she finally made a friend on her own and not from the illegal acts of her business. 

Natasha had to remind herself why she was about to kill Kane. The hurt he brought you and your son, the fear she saw in your eyes when she read you the email he sent, the panic you had at the thought of Kane taking Dylan away from you. Knowing that since Dylan came into this world you weren't ever able to feel safe, always looking over your shoulder and wondering if you'd wake up to your son missing. All thoughts of your fears ran through Natasha's mind as she looked at herself in the mirror with a faint smirk on her lips as she felt herself soon start thinking about a world without Kane.

----

"Please stop!!" Kane begged, his face beaten and bruised and covered with his own blood. "If you're going to kill me, just do it already!" he spat with tears streaming down his face while Natasha sat down in front of him. It had been hours of harsh torture for Kane as Natasha soaked up his cries and begs to stop, she loved the sound of his life in her hands and knowing she had full control over his final moments. 

"Oh, I am going to kill you, don't worry about that" Nat winked before rolling her wrists, releasing a cracking sound. "Then what are you waiting for?! I've admitted to everything, I know I'm not leaving this hell hole alive so just do it! DO IT ALREADY!" Kane begged once more as Natasha stared him down coldly. "I like hearing you beg, it's fun. If I had it my way, I would've liked to let you go and have you look over your shoulder every fucking day wondering if anybody is watching everything you do. I'd love to keep you on your toes and tossing at night wondering if it was safe to be in your own home. But, killing you sounds just a lot better" she smirked as she leant back in her seat. 

It surprised Natasha how long Kane was able to serve the brutal torture she delivered to him. Plying most of his fingers off, breaking both of his legs with a sledgehammer, multiple stab wounds including two combat knives still stabbed through his hands that kept him even more combined to the chair he was chained too. Kane passed out a few times only for Natasha to drench him in cold, dirty water keeping him from any form of comfort. 

She could see the fear she installed in him, the loss of hope in his eyes, the trembling in his bottom lip, the shakiness in his voice, she had him right where she wanted him. Completely begging for her to end his pain. 

"You're fucking sick!" Kane threw his head back slightly, "what else do you want from me?!" he asked. 

"I already have what I wanted" Natasha chuckled leaving a smirk on her lips just before her phone broke the moment of silence between the two. Seeing your name lit up on her phone was the last thing she'd see today; Natasha left the room and took a deep breath before answering. 

"Hey" she spoke softly. 

"Don't do it, Nat! Please tell me you haven't already done it, please!"

"Woah, Y/n calm down, nothing has been done. Is everything okay? Have you changed your mind?"

"I…I want to talk to him, please" 

"Are you sure? I don't know if that's a goo-"

"Please Nat….if you're going to do it, I need to speak to him before you do it…please" you begged.

"Alright, where are you? I'll come get you" Natasha finally replied after moments of silence. 

"I just got home; Dylan is with my parents until things die down" 

"I'll be half hour, are you sure you want to do this?" Natasha asked once more. 

"I'm sure, Nat….please" you begged one last time. 

"Okay, I'll see you soon" 

"Thank you, Nat" you replied before the call hung up. 

Natasha walked into her office where Bucky had made himself a little too comfortable with a pizza and beer to keep himself 'busy' as he would say. "You're done already? I thought you would've been a lot longer" he looked up at the redhead with a cold smirk. "Y/n wants to talk to him" Nat grabbed her coat, "What?" Bucky asked in a confused tone as he quickly sat up, removing his feet from Nat's desk. 

"I'll be back. Don't let him fall asleep or die" she ordered as she grabbed her keys. 

----

The drive back to Natasha's bunker was silent. You could barely look at her, even for a second without the feeling of your stomach-turning upside down. She notices the way you couldn't stop rubbing your hands up and down the top of your thighs and the way you couldn't stop blinking or trying to swallow the lump that was stuck in your throat. 

"You don't have to do this, Y/n" Natasha broke the silence as she looked over at you for a short moment before her eyes focused on the road in front of her. "W-what?" you asked with a stutter when her voice broke you from your thoughts. Natasha pulled the car over, turned the car off and turned to you. "You don't have to do it" she repeated. 

"I do, it's something I feel I need to do before…you know" your eyes struggled to look at her for more than a second, "he needs to know what he did was wrong, and I don't mean that I don't love Dylan because I do. Without him I probably would've done something really bad" tears start to build up in your eyes, "but I've been hurting for so long and I need him to know that. This whole situation isn't how I imagined telling him, you've kil-…you did, I me"

"I know" Natasha interrupted making you look at her once again. 

"Please don't do it" the tears now streaming freely, "I can't live with the thought of it. I know you might be able too, but I can't, please" you added. Natasha nodded softly, "how can you do it? How can you live with yourself?" you asked before Natasha could open her mouth. 

"I" Natasha was speechless, she'd never thought about how she was able to torture people and take their lives without it playing on her mind. She got a kick from it all but she couldn't admit that to you, you'd think she's more than just sick. "W-what I do, what I have done…I, it's…I don't just target anybody. Everybody has something and honestly, they deserved what they got" she struggled to explain. 

"But you can't decide who lives and dies Natasha. You're a lawyer, there's rules, there are legal ways to deal with people. Kane needs prison time, nature will take its course, not you" 

"If you don't want me to do it, I won't. But I can't risk letting him free, you have to understand that" Nat reached for your hand, "you can't keep him forever" you frowned with worry as you pulled your hand away from her. 

"Y/n, I can't let him go. He'll talk and with the injuries he has, it would be believable"

"H-h…how bad have you hurt him?" You looked at her with fear while your tears kept streaming. "Can you please take my word for it?" she looked at you with pleading eyes, "I know you want to talk to him and you can but I don't want the image of him to scare you" she added.

"He's bad, isn't he?"

Natasha nodded. 

"He going to die anyway, isn't he?"

Natasha nodded once again, "I should've waited, I'm sorry" she spoke while you wiped your tears. "Let's just go before it's too late" you turned away from Natasha and kept your attention to the passenger window. 

The rest of the drive was just as silent to begin with, every now and then Natasha would look over at you and wish things were different. She wished you never found out. 

----

Natasha walked you to the room where she was keeping Kane, the only sounds that could be heard throughout her bunker were your footsteps and Bucky blasting some old radio tunes from her office. 

"Y/n, please wait" Natasha gently grabbed your hand and turned you to face her. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that you found out about all of this. I didn't want you to know and I understand if you don't want anything to do with me again, I do but please…you're my best friend. I just want you to know that" she looked into your eyes hoping that you could see that she never meant for any of this to harm you. 

"Can you wait here? I need to talk to him alone" you replied almost shrugging off her words as she nodded. You took a moment to prepare yourself before opening the door, gasping to yourself when you saw Kane's condition. 

"Y/n?" he mumbled, covered in blood and smelt awful as you slowly turned away from the door to face him. A chair was placed in front of him, one you can only assume that Natasha used to intimidate the man. "Wh-what are you doing here? Y-you have you leave! Your b-boss, she's fucking cr-crazy!" he added in a stutter while you took small steps towards the chair. The sight of him made your eyes fill with tears once more, as much as you hated Kane, you'd never seen anybody as beaten and in pain as Kane is right now. 

"I mean it, Y/n! g-get out of here!" he choked, spitting out blood to the floor. 

"I..I need you to listen to me" you spoke as you sat down in front of him, his face swollen from the torture Natasha's fist delivered. "I'm sorry, okay?! I'm s-so, so, s-sorry! I hurt you and Dylan; I know but you h-have to get out of here! P-please!" 

"You hurt me, Kane" you ignored his pleas for you to leave, "you were my friend…I trusted you and you didn't listen to me….I said no, I begged you to stop" you added while remembering the night your life changed. 

"I k-know"

"You don't!" you spat with tears streaming down your cheeks, "you don't know! You didn't care! You laughed at me, held me down while you and your…friends…Kane, you hurt me in ways I didn't know I could be hurt. You broke my trust, my confidence, my safety net, you broke me. Do you know how scared I was when that pregnancy test came back positive? Do you know how sick I felt? Knowing that I was pregnant by one of my…r-rapists…you made me grow up when I wa-"

"Please d-don't do this"

"LISTEN!" you shouted at him, even Dylan had never been yelled at in such a high shout. "I need you to know all of this, so please…just listen!" Kane struggled to keep eye contact with you as you waited for him to response, "can you do that? Can you listen for a moment?" you asked, finally Kane nodded. 

"I had plans, I had dreams and you took all over that from me. I couldn't bear to look at my parents after finding out I was pregnant; I couldn't leave my house because of you! My father wanted to kill you himself when he found out, when my mother found me on the floor in the bathroom begging for a god to just take me, she broke. You did that! I thought about hurting myself so many times that my mother had to sleep in the same room as me because she didn't trust me, she took me to my first appointment and the moment I heard my, MY baby's heartbeat, I knew I had to be strong for him. 

Since I found out I was pregnant I wanted nothing more than to get rid of him and hope I could somehow move on. I hated knowing I had a child growing inside of me, but hearing his heartbeat I realized he didn't deserve the hate and anger I had for him. I promised him, before I found out he was a boy that no matter what was going to happen, I would love them, I would protect them and I would do anything for them. 

Dylan is MY child, MY son. He is nothing like you! He's beautiful, he's caring, he's so full of life, he reaches for the stars with everything he does! He doesn't have a bad bone in him, he once made me look after a squirrel that was hit by a car and I did it for him, to see that beautiful smile he has. So don't you ever think for a second that Dylan is your son or that you have anything to do with him. Everything Dylan is comes from me!

I kept him safe; I kept a roof over his head, I gave him everything I had while you made things harder for me. I knew the moment he was born, the second I saw him I knew that it was your DNA. But for the first time since that night, I wasn't mad, I didn't wish for a god to take me, I was happy. I had a healthy, strong and beautiful baby boy" Your eyes stared heavily into Kane's while tears had now made a river of your cheeks. 

"I want you to hurt like I did, to only see darkness, to fear everything you do! I want you to never feel safe, I want you to wonder what you might wake up too in the morning. I want all your hopes and dreams to be crushed" you added when Kane's eyes dropped to the bloody splattered floor in front of him. 

"Y/n…I…I was drunk, we all w-were. Y-you said you wa-"

"No!" you stood up, your fists in balls of anger, "Don't you ever say I asked for what you did to me! You drugged me! You forced me to say I wanted it, that I liked it! Every day I remember something from that night, and it breaks me all over again!" you added in anger before slowly sitting down again. "You're going to feel guilty, are you? You're never going to see the wrong you did, the hurt you brought, are you?" you asked. 

"You d-don't think I'm hurting?!" Kane spat, "LOOK AT ME Y/N!" He shouted, "You did THIS TO ME!" he added. His words only confirmed your thoughts, "I didn't do this" you spoke as you stood up again, "you did this" you added before making your way to the door. 

"Y/n, I'm s-sorry! Pl-please! h-help me out of h-here! I'll leave y-you and D-Dylan alone forever, I pr-promise" he begged, his injuries causing his stutter of words. His begs only got louder as you ignored him and opened the too to see Natasha and Bucky waiting outside. With one hand you did your best to wipe your tears while the over closed the door behind you, draining out Kane's begs for help. 

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked as she took a step towards you. "Just do it" you nodded before your eyes dropped to your feet, "he didn't care" you added in a mumble, your legs felt wobbly as if you were about to fall, Bucky looked at Natasha who gave you a soft nod.

"He didn't even try to care" you started to sob as you started to walk away, "I'll wait in the car" you added without looking back at Natasha. "Hey, come here" Bucky opened his arms for you, without a second thought you crashed into him and cried as he held you. 

"I've got her" Bucky mouthed to Natasha who didn't want to leave you but it was only a matter of hours before Kane's body would shut down. She nodded to Bucky and waited for him to take you out of the bunker before she entered the room where Kane's cries for help came to a stop. Nat closed the door and locked it before walking over to the countertop and picked up her favorite combat knife and began to sharpen as Kane watched in fear. 

"Please stop, I'm done okay! You win! Just fucking kill me already!" He began to cry when Natasha turned and looked at him with a dark smirk on her lips. "I already told you, I'm going to kill you but after that I think it's only fair we deal with the reason you're here in the first place, right?" she chuckled as she walked over to him, kicking his chair over. He yelled in pain as his head smacked the hard flooring, not hard enough to knock him out but enough to give him a headache later on. 

"What t-the f-uck are you doing?!" He panicked as Natasha unzipped his trousers and harshly grabbed his cock from his boxers. "No, no no! PLEASE DON'T!" Kane yelled at the top of his lungs as Nat brought her knife closer to his penis, "I told you. It's only fair we deal with that got you into this mess first, didn't I?" She looked over at him and smiled as she kept her eye contact with him while her knife made a clear slice from the base of his genitals. Blood splattered everywhere while Kane screamed in pain, almost passing out. 

"Oh, stop your fucking crying!" Natasha as she pulled Kane's chair up from the floor before dangling his penis in front of his eyes, "Y-YOU CUT OFF M-MY D-DICK?!" Kane shouted while Nat chuckled, "it's not like you're missing much" she joked as she walked back over to the countertop of weapons. Kane's penis was tossed onto the counter as if it was a useless item that Natasha couldn't care less if it broke. She put a face mask on and grabbed the blow-torch before testing its blue flame causing Kane to squirm and shout louder for help, help he knew he would never get. 

"Since you think you know how to use this ugly thing" Natasha grabbed his penis from the counter with her free hand, the blow-torch in the other as she turned around and faced her victim once again. "You can watch me destroy it" she smiled before letting the blue flame turn orange as she lit Kane's member on fire. Kane was losing blood by the second, his skin turning pale as Natasha tossed the body part in flames onto Kane's lap, he screamed and squirmed as the flames came in contact with his thighs, setting him alight. 

Natasha watched by the door as Kane's screams were something she'd never heard from anybody before, she watched as his entire body became covered in flames. She let out a deep breath and left the room and waited for his cries to stop, when she knew that Kane had finally died, she turned the roof sprinklers on putting the flames out.

----

Bucky waiting outside your apartment door, not wanting to leave you alone even though you begged him to leave and slammed the door in his face. He didn't take it personally; he knew you were going through more emotions than he could even imagine. Natasha arrived to see him guarding your door while your sobs could faintly be heard from the inside. 

"She wants to be alone" Bucky looked at Natasha, "I couldn't leave" he added. 

"Give me a moment" Nat replied in a soft tone. Unsure if it was a good idea, Bucky moved aside, and Natasha let herself into your apartment. She could hear you crying from your bedroom and slowly made her way, knocking softly on your door. You ripped the covers off from over your head and looked at Natasha with wet, puffy eyes. 

"Is he?" you asked, unable to say the word.

"He is" Natasha confirmed, "I wanted you to know. You don't have to worry about him…or me anymore" she added. Slowly you sat up still looking at her, "please stay" you spoke before Natasha could walk away, she looked at you with surprise. 

"Y-you're my best friend and friends fight, we have up and downs but…. but I love you even if right now I'm a mess and have no idea what to do. You're my best friend, Nat. I'm mad at you, I'm confused, and it might take me some time to come to terms with things, but friends fight, right?" You smiled brokenly at her. "I don't want to be alone right now, I need my best friend" you added. 

Nat smiled softly with tears of her own filling her eyes, she took her coat off and placed it on your dresser before she made herself comfortable in your bed, letting you rest your head on her shoulder. For the first time in a very, very long time Natasha felt love, a different kind of love that she didn't know she longed for. 

"I'm right here" she whispered as you cried, letting yourself let all those built-up feelings over the past 6 years out. You were free, Dylan was free, and you have Natasha, your best friend to thank.

Taglist: @marvelogic | @randomnessbecausewhynot | @blackwidow-3 | @lilsmeaux | @mmmmokdok | @wandanats-goodgirl | @toouncreativeforausername | @agent99galanzo | @marvelwomen-simp | @its-just-geek | @fxckmiup | @loneliestafterparty | @pikachooo3 | @monaekelis | 

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #fanfiction #black widow #marvel #different kind of love

[goldenchunkycat]

The way she looks at me you | Chapter 2

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Pairing: Neteyam x Ao'nung x Na'vi!Reader x Lo'ak

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Chapter Warnings:

- ANGST (bullying (both verbally and kind of physically), anxiety attack, xenophobia, Lo'ak in an ungrateful brother, Neteyam is a meany) - FLUFF (just a bit, Kiri Lo'ak and Reader being crackhead, jokes ?, Lo'ak is a really good friend)

- BAD ENGLIIIISH (not proof read, feel free to correct me if you want to)

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A/N: The song that Neytiri sang at Neteyam's funeral is on Youtube, at this point I'm just torturing myself. Anyway, reblog are appreciated and comments even more ♡♡

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Previous chapter | Series' Masterlist | Masterlist

The next day, you and the Sullys woke up, exhausted but relieved to have slept in a real bed - even though you had shared yours with Kiri, which neither of you minded. Jake gave you his speech about respecting their traditions and people, and had especially looked at Lo'ak when he told you to behave - which made you discreetly laugh. So you and the siblings were on the road to the beach, ready to take your first steps into a completely new world, different from what you knew.

"I hope you drown." Kiri said playfully to her brother, nudging his shoulder to annoy him.

"If it's after you I don't care."

As you watched the two idiots make a scene in front of you while holding Tuk's hand, you couldn't help but laugh at their ridiculous insults. They may not be related by blood but they sure acted like they were. Sometimes it really fascinated you and you couldn't look away from their whining, secretly choosing a side to support.

"Don't you feel hot ?"

Neteyam's voice snapped you out of your analysis, causing you to jump and almost stumble headlong into the sand. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you almost broke your neck as you turned your gaze to his handsome face that was smiling at your nonsenses. It was cute.

"No- I'm fine. I'm really good." you repeated, not knowing what else to say to ease his concerns.

Doubtful, he looked at your getup, skeptical before reaching for the strange top you were wearing that covered your entire upper body.

"I've always seen you in that but never questioned it, since that's what father's friend wears too. But I can't help but think it must be uncomfortable, isn't it?"

"No. I'm used to it. But I'm not used to wearing your clothes. I feel…exposed ?"

Neteyam did not understand what you meant by 'exposed'. Which was quite understandable since he had grown up seeing women and men wearing nothing by your standards. His own clothes, as well as those of all the Na'vis, only covered their private parts. So seeing you show up on a beach in a baggy t-shirt and cargo pants that looked way too big for you was one of the reasons why Neteyam would never consider you his sister, unlike Tuk. You were just too different.

Shrugging, he did not question your choice of words and continued on his way by your side, sometimes asking you questions such as 'did you sleep well ?' or 'what do you think of this place ?', or interfering in the passionate discussions Tuk was having with you. So, even though the walk was not that long, you had the impression that it lasted only a few seconds. For the second time, in a short period of time, you had talked to your crush and said more than two sentences. Maybe this new place was going to work out for you after all.

"Look at them, they're worse than babies." 

"Can't even stay three minutes underwater."

No, you were wrong, you were going to hate this place. Eywa, you already hated it. When you arrived on the beach, almost panting from the heat since you were used to the coolness of the lab, the two boys from yesterday and the pretty girl were waiting for you, half sunk into the water. While she had welcomed you warmly, her brother, if you had understood correctly what Lo'ak had told you last night with passionate insults, had only rolled his eyes. You were sure you had heard him mocking the Sully's and were selfishly glad to have gone under the radar. But you couldn't stay invisible for long.

"You ! What are you doing on the shore ?" the boy with the bun had called you in a scathing voice, drawing everyone's attention to you. "You think that you're too good to learn our way ?"

"Ao'nung !" his sister chided him, a frown on her face. Slowly, she swam until she was within reach of you and started a conversation with you, surely trying to make you feel comfortable. "Hi, my name is Tsireya, I'm sorry my brother can be a skxawng sometimes. Why don't you come with us ?"

You blushed and looked at her pretty face, then at her hand that was extended to you, urging you to take it and join her into the water.

Snapping out of your trance, you shook your head at full speed, moving away from the waves that licked the sand beneath your feet. "Maybe later… Thanks."

"Fine. We'll wait, don't worry. If you need help you can call me, I'll be right there."

You blushed again but did not answered. Eywa, she was so nice and pretty. Did you sounded rude ? But from what little you saw, she seemed to be understanding, the opposite of her brother, who you knew was looking at you with a nasty look from where he was standing. You couldn't hear what he was saying, but from his friend's laugh and Lo'ak's look you were sure you did not want to know.

So, from a distance, you watched them practicing diving underwater. They did not move or swim, they just tried to see their current predisposition. Not surprisingly, Lo'ak and Tuk were the first to get their heads out of the water to take a deep breath. Always, when they did so, Lo'ak would turn to you to see if you were still watching them. When he saw you laughing at him, which you always did, he would make faces at you before being called to order, which made you laugh even more.

Sometimes Neteyam would pop his head out of the water. In those moments you felt like you were going to explode because of how hot your face was. But you could blame it on the heat, couldn't you ? On the other hand, you could not look away from the spectacle that was offered to you every time he emerged from the waves. His skin glistening, his eyes shining, his hair dripping with sea water. He really was a sight. Fortunately, he did not see you scrutinizing him like the Nantangs scrutinized their prey. At least you thought so, because Neteyam did notice the way you looked away whenever he caught you looking at him. He did not mind though, he loved the attention…

As for Kiri, you could not help but feel amazed and impressed when she was the last one out of the water. No matter what she did, she always succeeded, whether it was her Ikniyama, something as complicated as healing, and now freediving. Part of you knew you should not feel this way since she was your best friend but you could not help but feel…jealous. She was different from you in so many ways and was proving it once again right here. Even away from home, she seemed to be a genius and learned faster than anyone else. And you could only watch from afar, sitting on the edge of this beach, insecure.

The morning had gone by quite quickly and it was soon enough time to eat. One by one, the Sully came out of the water, soaked, exhausted, out of breath, but above all hungry. Immediately, Lo'ak walked towards you and, sensing the stupidity coming, you got up at full speed, trying to escape the mischievous boy. Nothing on his face gave away his intentions, not even a smile. But you knew. You knew him so well.

Obviously you were not quick enough, because in one swift move Lo'ak had jumped on your back, throwing you both to the ground. And, to your dismay, he was soaked.

"Get off of me moron!" you yelled, trying as best as you could to escape from his wet arms as he took great pleasure in soaking your clothes with sea water.

"Why should we be the only one who are wet huh ?" he said in a defying tone, muffling your protests by putting his hand on your mouth. Unfortunately fro him, you were a quick thinker.

"Ah ! That's disgusting !" he cried out and took his hand away from your mouth at the wet sensation on his palm.

You grinned and laughed out loud, not caring about being soaked anymore. His face was priceless. The kind of 'bitch what the fuck' face. It really was a 'Lo'ak thing' to do. Rolling her eyes at your childish games, Kiri took the matter into her own hands by grabbing her brother tail and pulling on it until he let you go. And all of this under the three Metkayina's eyes. Neteyam was embarrassed. He took his little sister hand and walked away from the scene, acting like he did not know you.

"Fish."

"Yes, it's the local dietary regime." Neytiri said, putting a big plate in the middle of the circle that you all were forming as you were sitting on the ground. "There's not much meat around here, unless you go in the forest behind the village. But apparently, it's dangerous."

"What can be more dangerous than Palulukan ?" Lo'ak scoffed before eating a piece of fish.

"We're trying to fit in, so just eat your fish and stop complaining." Jake said as he too took a piece of fish from the wooden plate. "Don't make this harder than it already is."

"Yes sir."

Silence reigned for most of the meal, everyone lost in their own thoughts, or simply focusing on their meal. When no one was looking at you, you and Lo'ak exchanged glances full of meaning. After years of being around each other, you had managed to create a language of your own, one that even Kiri found difficult to understand at times. Sometimes it only took a glance for you to understand what the other wanted. It was a habit that you had taken to avoid Lo'ak being reprimanded by his father for having breathed a little too loudly.

Sensing the tension in the atmosphere, Jake cleared his throat and moved awkwardly in his seat, speaking up.

"So… What did you guys do this morning ?"

"We practiced breath-hold diving for as long as we could." Neteyam replied with a nonchalant shrug. He knew the subject was going to be brought up and their father wanted to know about their progress.

"So what ? Are you doing okay ?"

"Yes. Me and Kiri lasted the longest." Neteyam replied without missing a beat, proud of his completions. Obviously, his father had to know about it.

"And Lo'ak also did very well for a first time !" you interjected, hoping to get your friend out of a situation that was already starting to look bad. "It's normal to have some difficulties when trying something new-" your voice got smaller and smaller as Jake looked you in the eyes, surely looking for the lie in your voice. But he couldn't find one, because even though Lo'ak's performance was not as good as his siblings', in your eyes he was doing really well. "…right ?" you squealed, looking down.

"Yes. As long as you're trying. But don't stagnate, tomorrow I want to hear that you made great progresses." he said, pointing his finger at his youngest son, who didn't look up once in his direction. Jake turned his attention to you and asked, "What about you ?"

"She did just fine." Lo'ak interrupted, looking into your eyes as yours widened at his lie. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Tuk holding back the words that wanted to come out of her mouth while Kiri and Neteyam froze. All the Sully children knew that you had not even approached the water. But they all continued with their meal, deciding that it was better for you to avoid Jake's disappointment. Neteyam and Lo'ak were used to it, Kiri had never been reprimanded, nor Tuk. But they knew that if you, of all people, was reprimanded by Jake, it would mean loud cries and heavy heart for the rest of the day. If they all knew something about you, it was that you were… well, fragile.

Lo'ak gave you an 'I-got-you' look and you slightly nodded back, smiling and resuming eating your fish as Kiri engaged a conversation with her mother about her morning.

"Gotta go back swimming." Lo'ak complained when his father disappeared behind a Marui, annoyed at the thought of spending time with those weird blue Na'vis again. He could not stand them, even more after he heard them talk about you this morning. They were disgustingly disrespectful, just because your tail was fluffy and your clothes not like theirs. 

"I did not said that to save your ass, you really did good this morning." you said in a soft voice while playfully pushing him with your shoulder.

He pushed you away from him and muttered "You're embarrassing." Since the light was bright around you, you missed the way his freckles started to glow.

"Stop being babygirl material." the English words left your mouth before you could even think about it and you freckles glowed as you stopped in your tracks.

"What the- What does that even mean ?" he said, genuinely curious at the new expression. He was used to some English words and turn of phrase that you used but this one was a new one. He was pretty good at remembering the insults.

"Hum. It's like- I don't how to explain it." you shrugged, going back to walking, Lo'ak following behind you while rolling his eyes.

"If you don't know what that means don't use it."

"I know what that means !" you said, put out, " I just don't know how to explain it..."

"Then don't use it."

"Oh hush."

Soon enough you all arrived on the same beach as this morning and, to your dismay, you were feeling hotter than before. The ambient temperature was making your skin glistening with your sweat and your shirt was almost sticking to your body. You really hated it, here. You really should have stayed with Norm, in the labs, enjoying his company while experimenting on new things. 

"You're coming ?" Kiri asked, side hugging you.

Well, whatever, you were going to be fine. You just needed to make some efforts to fit in. Your gaze wandered over your surroundings, and you saw Neteyam and Tuk diving into the water, Tsireya floating a bit farther away.

Something felt off but you could not pinpoint what it was.

"Hum. Yeah ? I guess than I can try..."

"I got you." Lo'ak said, his hand hovering over your back in case you needed help. He could tell that you were not feeling comfortable and that for some reasons you did not wanted to go in the water. But it was fine, he was just behind you, it would not let you get hurt on uncomfortable.

"As always." you chuckled nervously, trying to ease the wariness inside of your head that was preventing you from stepping into the water. "Don't let me drown. Hold me tight."

"It will depend on you."

"Ahah you're so funny."

"Come on we don't have all day !" Tuk complained, unhappy that she could not yet have fun in the water because of how slow you were.

Why would you do this to yourself when you could just sit quietly on the beach while watching them swim and have fun ?

"Come on crybaby." Lo'ak rolled his eyes, trying to push you further into the water. But you planted your feet on the sand, resisting and not budging. Frowning at your resistance, he tried another way. Encircling your hips with his arms, he carried you in order to walk further into the water. You squealed and tried to resist, immediately clinging to him once you realized that him letting you go would mean that you would end up in the cold water.

"Don't you dare putting me down or walking further into the water ! My tail is sensitive, more than yours, it's very cold." you said, putting the emphasis on 'very'. And it was true. Despite not knowing were you came from, you still knew quite some things about your body. And one thing that you learn quick enough was that your tail was really sensitive. As if each hair on it was just some kind of ultra sensitive sensor. 

"No my tail is sensitive." You heard someone make fun of you and the minute after your body and your head were immersed into the water, your clothes and your tail soaked. As if that was not enough, since you were holding into Lo'ak's neck, said boy fell on top of you, crushing you under his weight in the short time he had been off balance. Your mouth opened in shock and you swallowed water, coughing up bubbles. Before you could panic unnecessarily since you could still touch the bottom, Lo'ak pulled you to the surface.

You coughed and spat out the water that had entered your lungs, not feeling as hot as you did before. As you caught your breath, slumped against your friend's chest, you heard laughter a few feet away. Now you knew what was off. Tsireya's brother and his friend were not here when you arrived. They were missing. And now you understood why.

"Look at their faces !"

"Whoops, my bad. You do not belong in the water, children of the forest, especially you, human-freak."

You did not look up, your eyes round and your breath short, still shocked by what had just transpired. You felt like you were making a big deal out of nothing, but you could not just ignore what had just happened since your mind and thoughts were too messy. Being pushed into the water had affected you, sure, but what had caused you to be so shaken up was the violence of the actions and words you had just been victims of. Did they hate you that much ?

"I'm going to fucking kill them…" you heard Lo'ak mutter. He tightened his grip on your waist before pulling your body away from his, gently handling you to his sister whose mouth was wide open, shocked by the events. Striding in their direction, he pushed Ao'nung violently once he was within arms reach. "What's your fucking problem ?!"

Before the situation could get any worse, Neteyam, who had been watching from afar what had just happened, swam as quickly as possible to hold back his brother. "Lo'ak ! Stop it !"

"No ! I'm not stopping anything, you saw what he did to us-"

"It's fine !" Neteyam grabbed his brother's shoulder, dragging him away from the boys who were making fun of you just before his eyes. Lo'ak, in disbelief, quickly turned around to look at his brother, ready to protest, but he was interrupted once again.

"Look, nobody's hurt. There's no need to make a big deal out of it. Just...let it slide okay ?"

Now Lo'ak was shocked by his brother's reaction. It's true that he did not return your feelings and had no reason to defend you, but it was more than that. It was a matter of pride. Did he not even consider you a friend ? Or even his siblings' best friend ?

"You're kidding me right ?"

"..."

"Wow, you reached a whole new level of dickhead. And you're supposed to watch over us ? Don't make me laugh."

Lo'ak swam back to you, guiding your shivering form to the shore with Kiri's help. And as if the whole afternoon was not bad enough, Jake and the chief of the village showed up on the beach,  probably to examine the progress you had made. You could not fight here, in front of the chief of the Metkayina's but above all in front of Jake. And Ao'nung definitely knew that because he was laughing out loud at Lo'ak's face, acting like you all were good friends.

"Everything's good here ?" Jake asked, looking between the three of you and the others in the water.

"Yes." Ao'nung answered, smiling big.

"Such a sxkawng..."

"Lo'ak !" Jake yelled, having clearly heard Lo'ak's insult. "Behave and go back to training."

She looked at you, worried, not knowing if she should return to you to help you or give in to her father's wishes.

Lo'ak rolled his eyes and stayed on the beach next to you as Kiri was slowly going back into the water. She looked at you, worried, not knowing if she should return to you to help you or give in to her father's wishes. You nodded in order to reassure her, silently telling her that you were going to be fine. Unfortunately, you knew that you could not just stand on the beach when Jake was standing a few feet away from you. Especially not after lying to him during lunch break.

"Don't do it if you don't want to..." your friend whispered to you, trying to be discreet enough to not be heard by his father.

"I don't have any choice, he's watching us." you whispered back, frowning as you made your way towards the sea, watching fearfully the water submerge your body little by little. You almost lost your balance when your tail, who got heavier due to the water, sank into the wave. It wasn't like the Omatikayan's or Metkayinan's tails. Yours was obviously not fitting into the water. At least the Sully's tail was slender. But yours was heavy. You were not used to feel that amount of heaviness on your back.

"Don't worry, I got you." Fortunately, Lo'ak prevented you from falling - once again, by holding your waist, trying to make you stand up straight. At least in front of his father. He did not wanted you to be reprimanded by him, it would suck. 

"Great. Good work, see you tonight." Jake nodded, satisfied, and left after Tonowari, leaving you all silent into the water. You carefully in Lo'ak's waited until As soon as he was out of sight, you hurried up to the shore, tripping, head low, embarrassed upon hearing the mocking laughter of the two Metkayina's boys.

You really hated this place.

Your tail took hours to dry. You tried to absorb the water with a weird towel that Tsireya, the nice sister, gave you, but it only helped a little. Because when it dried, oh Eywa, you wanted to cry. Your once beautiful shaggy and soft tail that you took care of was full of knots, everywhere. 

And now you were really crying. Neytiri and Kiri was trying to remove the knots with wooden brushes and comb and it hurt. It hurt like hell. While you were just suffering, Lo'ak was kind enough to turn his head away from you when the need to laugh was too strong, but overall he was just looking at you with a blank a face. You knew for a fact that he was thinking about how he could get back to them. A 'Lo'ak thing' to do. Or maybe he was just trying to show some sympathy - which he obviously could not do.

While looking at him, a weird feeling suddenly flooded your body. You felt...hot. Strangely, you had the impression that you could still feel the lingering sensation of his body against yours. His breath on the top of your head and his warm, comforting embrace. When did he become so muscular, so 'adult looking' ? Eywa, he was your friend. You best friend. Just a friend. You shook your head and slapped your cheeks to get your mind out of the gutter. But the Kiri and her mother could tell that something was troubling you sine your tail was wagging between their hands, preventing them from helping you out with it.

As you were still crying your eyes out, overwhelmed, whining whenever Lo'ak was humming 'crybaby', Neteyam walked inside the Marui. He scanned the room with his eyes, his gaze landing on your glowing freckles and glistening face. Smiling, he made his way toward you, but was quickly stopped by a hand on his shoulder, gripping him firmly and preventing him from going further.

"We need to talk." 

You all stopped what you were doing to look at the duo in the middle of the room, sensing the air get tense. The look on Lo'ak's face did not bode well. Or maybe it was just his 'bitch resting face'. In any case, Neteyam seemed just as surprised as you and simply looked at him, silently questioning his intentions. But Lo'ak did not answered nor budge, he only tightened his grip around his brother's shoulder and insisted, narrowing his eyes.

"Right now."

Lo'ak did not wait for his brother's response and dragged him out of the tent by force, leaving you, girls, wondering about what just happened. Neytiri was used to them going away to discuss 'private' things.

"Boys." Kiri huffed, resuming her previous actions by carefully stroking your wiggling tail. You yelped as Neytiri simply shrugged at the boys antics, going back to brushing your tail, trying to untangle a particularly strong knot.

"Stay put."

Oh Eywa, you were going to spend your night here, tortured by their unmerciful hands.

"I think that I already told you to go and talk to her." Lo'ak said to his brother once they were far enough from the Marui, frowning, angry.

"About what ? Are you getting worked up because of what happened this afternoon ?"

"I don't give a fuck about what happened this afternoon. Just wait and see. I'm talking about her feelings for you. You think that just because we moved you can start to talk to her, acting like a charming prince ? Do you have feelings for her ? Do you even consider her like a friend ?"

HIssing, Neteyam shoved his brother's shoulder, pushing him away from him. He did not look happy; his ears were pinned to his head and he was baring his teeth, a low growl emitting from his chest.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Oh so you're angry at me when I'm speaking the truth but don't react when those sxkawng basically attack us ?"

"I'm trying to protect you ! I'm supposed to watch over you, not her !" Neteyam hissed again, shoving his brother's chest with his finger at every words he said. "You can't go and fight for a girl when we are supposed to fit in and not cause any troubles !"

"A girl ? Huh, a girl." Lo'ak shook his head, obviously disappointed with his brother before nodding, shrugging his shoulders and taking a few steps back, hands in the air, as if giving up. His expression darkened and it was his turn to poke his brothers chest with his finger. "If I see you smile at her, laugh with her, let her think that something's possible between you two, I'm going to punch you in the face. I don't care that you are my brother, or a mighty warrior, I don't care if afterward you beat me to pulp or if mom and dad reprimand me. Stay. Away. From her."

Neteyam ran his hand through his hair and laughed, incredulous and annoyed at his little brother's ridiculous behavior. He could not wrap his head around the idea that his brother was willing to fight with him over some enamored girl who could not see that he was obviously not interested in her. "Just for a girl ?"

"That girl spent more time with me than you did. She protected me physically and verbally more than you did. So yeah, I would do that for a girl."

As Neteyam was, out of pure rage, about to tell Lo'ak what he really thought about you, tell him things which would definitely broke your heart if you heard them and start a fight between him and his brother, a voice interrupted them.

"Boys ? What's going on." 

They kept silent, only looking at each other with their ears still pinned to their heads, their eyes shining with unsaid things. Lo'ak was the first one to step back. "Nothing sir." He respectfully greeted his father and headed back to their Marui.

"Neteyam ?"

"Nothing... How was your day ?" 

The eclipse had darkened the sky for a while now and the whole village was asleep, the light of the torches extinguished by the strong night winds coming right from the ocean. Looking around you and once you were sure that everyone was asleep, you got up and got out of the bed, being careful not to wake Kiri. Tiptoeing out of the Marui, bouncing on the net under your feet and laughing softly, you headed for the beach.

You could not continue to be a burden to the family that had taken you in and brought you with them. Tonight, despite the reassuring words of Kiri and Tuk, you could not even look at Jake in the eyes, let alone in his direction. You were so ashamed that you had to continue lying when you did not even dare to step into the water since your mishap. Not to mention the fact that your crush had seen the whole thing unfold. He had seen you come out of the water soaked to the skin, with your tail between your legs. You must have looked pathetic. But you were determined to change. So you thought that, maybe, you could start by desensitizing your tail to the coldness of the water and try to find your balance, even when it seemed to have doubled in weight.

Once on the beach, you walked with long, determined strides toward the waves that stretched across the sand before stopping at a reasonable distance.

"You can do it."

Taking a deep breath, you slowly approached the water, putting both feet in and trying to dip the tip of your tail. But instead you jumped and took two steps back. The water was freezing. Even more so than during the day.

"It's fine. It's gonna help."

You stepped forward again, ignoring the tremor in your hands and the sweat that was starting to run down your back.

You can't do it. 

"I can do it."

Your thoughts were no longer clear and, even if you tried, you could not ignore that voice in your head. The world seemed to be spinning around you and a vice was compressing your chest, preventing you from breathing properly.

You can't do it.

"I- I can't do it." you stuttered, stumbling back and falling on the cold sand. Clenching your fist around the rough little minerals, you tried to clear your mind and make the void inside your head.

What a sight, you were pitiful. Every time you tried something new you would fail, destroy, deceive. No wonder Neteyam would never like you. You could not even step into the water. Intrusive thoughts were running in your head, making you feel like you were just incompetent. You were failing to see the beauty around you. The glowing fish and shining stars, bioluminescent flowers and corals. You were selfish, pessimist, close-minded, useless, weren't you ?

It was not unusual for you to feel like this. Like you were not in control of your own body, like someone was just talking inside your head and make fun of your failures. It started when you were young. You would hide under the desk in the labs or at the Avatar's sleeping quarters, breathing heavily and crying. But every time, he was there for you. He was holding your hand, hugging your side.

"Breath in, breath out."

The memory of Spider was as clear as the water in front of you. HIs laugh, is smile, his weird habits and clothes. Spider. Spider. Brother.

But no one was here to hold you or tell you sweet words. Not anymore. You were supported by your friends and yet, you still felt like you were alone. Fighting your demons alone, in your head. Just like you were on this beach. Without anyone around you. No sound, no warmth. 

You tried, you really tried. Maybe not hard enough. But you knew that tonight, once again, you would fall asleep with a burning sensation in your eyes and an excruciating headache. You would wake up, the next day, smiley, pretending like nothing ever happened. Like you were not drowning in self-pity every night, getting closer to a bottomless abyss.

"Eywa, please, protect him."

Your Ikran landed just before you, nudging you, gently demanding you to stroke him. You smiled through your tears and hugged him, bathing in his warmth. He, at least, was not going to give up on you. He would stay by your side, forever.

Taglist: @soxfix / @pwallettes / @arminsgfloll / @dazecrea / @annamarieisbae / @mabdxs-omfg / @nao-cchi / @tiddieshakeshownu / @hellokittiesxbae / @yeosxxx / @neteyamo / @itszzmoon / @todod0kii / @almighty-raiden-shogunate / @dakotali / @findingourtreasure / @ayanies / @kachowness / @b0rednb1tchy / @sushibatebue / @artologia-blog1 / @purplepursepaint / @official-witch-of-night / @swagiores

#atwow #atwow x reader #neteyam x reader #ao'nung x reader #lo'ak x reader #atwow angst #neteyam angst #lo'ak angst #ao'nung angst #atwow fanfiction #you landed on pandora #the way she looks at you

[snaililita]

I adore Len and Rin! I have been trying my hand in x readers lately by making a load of Lyney x Reader so why not make some nostalgic (for me at least) Len x Reader🤔? As cringe as it may sound I've been reading all the fics left over by the fandom of old since I was 10 I'm so obsessed with Len>< So I pretty much have a headcanon for everything under the sun about him! So this mini thing will be a breeze:>

Len is a very cautious lover.

Used to all the memes and hate he used to regularly get back when the Vocaloid fandom was rampant; he is very hesitant with just about everything he does lest it become yet another meme and another reason to make fun of him.

As you can guess this leads to major anxiety and constantly feeling like he has done something wrong.

Please don't let him feel this way.

This being said, he is great at recognizing panic/anxiety attacks long before they happen.

He has a tendency to memorize what triggers them and avoids those places/topics entirely.

It's almost like he was built to be some form of anxiety relief android. Maybe he has some beta coding for future therapy androids?

Either way despite his physical age and mindset his is incredibly observant and can read a person pretty well.

He has a tendency to make assumptions though.

Brush his hair and don't tell him he needs to whack his ponytail off.

He'll love you.

Maybe he will let you braid it if you ask nicely.

He owns a saluki named Happy. No questions asked.

No he does not co-own her with Rin. Happy is *his* dog and neither him or the dog will accept otherwise.

If his dog approves of you 9 times outta 10 he will too.

He also likes cats, he and Rin are just allergic.

If you're someone like me and covered in cat hair 24/7, he will sneeze around you all the time.

It's cute though.

Len sneezes are adorable.

He is bad at english/kanji class please help him.

That being said he is a math wizard.

If you're like me and suck at math he can help you don't need to worry.

He would probably just do your homework for you if you ask.

Which is why you shouldn't.

Len has a problem with doing things for others so he'll do just about anything (within reason) for you if he loves you enough.

We already know he would die for his sister if I had to guess he would die for you too if you won him over.

He will take his hoodie off for you and let you wear it. He never takes his hoodies off.

Please please protect him.

Him is verr ee wholesome.

Len has some serious self doubt issues (as I mentioned earlier) so remind him that he *is* talented and that his sister isn't any better than he is.

I mentioned earlier he is good at recognising the signs of a panic attack and I think he is just as prepared to handle them as he is good at sensing them.

If you need words of comfort he can provide you with those but if you just want him to hold you while you cry he can do that too.

He actually prefers the latter because he is afraid he may say something wrong.

He has attachment issues and separation anxiety.

To certain extent he has separation anxiety with his sister and dog but it's not as bad as it is with you.

He gets so nervous and scared. He doesn't like being without you.

He is also super attached to you because you aren't mean to him.

That's probably one of the big reasons he loves you so much; you treat him like a person.

Len gets angry when people say he is a little gay twink.

He likes girls too!

He thinks no matter what's in your pants if your beautiful and kind you are beautiful and kind>:[

Please play minecraft and animal crossing with him♡♡♡

He is often littered with band-aids for no reason. He thinks they look cool lol.

Big cuddler!

Winter and autumn are his favourite seasons because he can cuddle with you in bed and wear layers:)

He has *so* many blankets and he shares all of them with you!

Doesn't mind if you fart in the bed. Doesn't run away squealing in disgust like his sister. Literally could not care less it's no different from a sneeze to him. True manliness right there.

Apple cider is his favourite!

He loves the smell so much his room has diffusers everywhere in it and they all have the scent:)

He also has his windows open a lot of the time!

So it smells like that windy-open-window-bedroom *and* apple cider!

If you open his door without expecting it, it's like being hit in the face with essence of bard. (If you get it you get it.)

Hates anything to do with zombies. They trigger panic attacks in him because he knows he would survive because he is an android but he wouldn't know how to keep you and your loved ones safe.

Not knowing what to do in certain situations enduces anixety and panic attacks in him whether it be an on the spot question from a teacher or just thinking about a situation like such his room.

He cries a lot.

I mean he is adorable and it's impossible to not find him cute when he does cry but he has one of those crying faces that makes you just feel so much guilt and a need to protect him.

Smooch his cheeks when he cries, if you do it enough he cries a little less.

Don't make him bottle up his emotions though, but also help him to stop crying because it's not very good for his eye cameras.

His eyes can glow in the dark by the way.

Every android's can.

But his are so pretty! When they glow they are a bright, electric blue that fades into a slightly deeper shade and they are *so*, SO sparkly!!

Make sure to tell him his sparkle eyes are beautiful✨✨

He has a lot of plushies.

He likes Journey to the West and is a Sun Wukong enthusiast!

He really likes Dragon Ball so he wanted to know about the design origins of Goku and you get the picture.

He doesn't quite understand all the symbolism in JTTW but he still enjoys it regardless because MONKEY KING SMASH!!!

Has a lanyard that he really likes and doesn't take off often.

He has a Vocaloid tomogatchi and the little character in it is the same Rin he has had since he first got it back when they were released.

He can't let his sister die on him!

His sister has one with him in it that she takes just as good care of♡

They may argue all the time but they really do love eachother!

Len and Rin are you best friends and Len is the best, most accommodating boyfriend you could ever ask for so please treasure him and his sister you lucky you!

Handle with care U^U

#adelita writes #vocaloid #len x reader #len kagamine #kagamine len #vocaloid x reader

[splitt]

CORRUPTION

Chapter one

Ticci Toby x Reader Nsfw

SENSITIVE CONTENT WARNINGS: Manipulation, Gaslighting, Angst, Abuse, Non-con, Dub-con, Nsfw - Smut, Masturbation, Cockwarming, Kinda yandere, Unhealthy relationship, Kinks, Major Character Death, Anxiety and Panic attacks, Violance, Trauma.

Masterlist

You were laying on your shared bedroom, waiting for Toby to come back from another mission It’s been five hours you think to yourself, remembering what he said before leaving you in this cold boring room “Don’t worry, i will be ba-back soon bumblebee.”

You two had been dating for almost a year now. He had always been kind towards you, treating as if you could shatter under his touch. Of course there are times when he hurt you in both mentality and physically way but he never really mean to do it.

Not wanting to waste your time doing nothing but staring at the wall and dive inside of your gloomy thoughts you decided to read a book.

Toby came back after hours, he shut the door harshly and locked it, he is mad, you sit on the edge of the bed looking at him must have been a rough mission you thought to yourself. His gaze softened as he looked at you, seeing that you were wearing his hoodie. He approached you tenderly, kneeled down in front of you before hugging your belly burying his face on your lap.

“It had been seven hours” you cooed as your hands run through his messy hair taking out the leafs on that tangled mess wondering how they even get there. “We argued with Tim, Asshole, and almost fai-failed, failed, failed the mission” he hugged you tighter as whimpering. “I miss you” he said finally looking to your face “i miss you too darling” you smile warmly and he kissed those perfect lips of yours.

He stand up as you grabbed his hoodie tightly, wanting things to get naughty. Still he was kissing you innocently.

Dry blood covered hands grabbed your waist, laying you on the bed as he take his place top of you. Soft lips touching your neck, he politely pulled you closer.

Slowly taking all of your clothes off, leaving you naked. Kisses getting rougher each time making you moan his name. You placed your hand on his member above his pants, slovly teasing him and enjoying how hard he gets for you. He take his hoodie off and throw it on the ground. “Y/N…” he mumbled. Rest of his clothes are thrown away carelessly not long after, thats right he was so hard and it was obvious yht he is hardly controling himself. beautiful hazel eyes met with yours. “ if you allow me” Toby, sweetest boy you have ever met, asked for permission kindly, refusing to take it any further without your answer. “Toby, yes”. He looks way more than attractive with that grin.

Toby separate your legs as kissing and playing with your breasts, leaving his love marks everywhere. His other hand slowly rubbing your cilt and then pressing his fingers inside of you in and out slowly just to tease you, driving you mad with pleasure, “Damn bum-bumblebee, i made you this wet already?” He jokingly said not allowing you to finish. Making your cheeks go red. He rubbed his hard member few times before gently pressing it against your entrance, “Ngh..” you hold his arm as he split your cunt with his rock hard cock.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to your body. "Tight." He buried his head on your hair taking you in with deep breaths. "God... Y/N yo-you're so warm inside..."

Getting deeper and harder with each thrust, he started sucking and biting your necck again, making you fill the room with moans not even caring about others to hear you. He is all you wanted tyo have right now, his love is more precious than anything else.

"Darling..." Toby moaned as he changed his position. Grabbing your waist roughly with his bloody hands, he was losing himself again not being able to understand it's hurting you, you almost, almost, whimpered with pain. But then again you were so close to the edge that you couldn't even care about it. It take few pushs and you cummed all over your lovers man sword, and soon after he realised inside of you.

That was a quick joy before sleep, to color both of your dreams.

Toby pulled himself out and lay next to you smiling, giving you a comfortable hug. "Thank you my bee" he kissed your head "you're welcome honey" you smiled "ı like the new, new, new nickname" that was the last thing you remember before passing out.

You wake up by Toby who is hugging you from behind a little too tight, you turned to him hugging him back, trying to calm him by playing with his hair.

Sweet boy finally woke up from the torture. He relaxed as soon as he realise your naked body. "Good morning Toby". He give you a huge warm smile. "Good morning".

Pretty hazel eyes scan your body, he wanted to make sure that he didn't hurt you too much. His smile fade away as his eyes locked on your abused waist. "Bumblebee... ı'm so so sorry" it take so long to convince him that it's okay.

His attractive naked body was cleaned up, out of his other injuries there was something new, something from you, hickeys on his neck and scratches behind his back, you couldn't help but smiled. You lay your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat while he play with your messed up hair.

It was just like a dream untill someone tried to open the door harshly. “Open the fucking door Rogers!” He yelled aggressively kicking the door, it would be a lie if you say you aren’t scared. Toby sighed with annoyance, “I told you not t-to call me th-that asshole, g-guess your brain is too small to understand even li-little things.” Every word was filled with disgust. You giggled and he winked at you.

Tim started kicking the door outside “i said open the god damn door Toby!” You stare at Toby with anxiety this time. “Ba-bastard…” he leave the warm bed and wear his pants "Stay in bed". He kissed your head before unlocking the door. “What do you want Tim?” Not even allowing for him to open the door fully Tim entered inside, placing his hands on Toby’s neck.

Before you could understand anything your lover was pinned on the ground while being choked to death. “i will fucking kill you!” Tim shouted.

Toby tried to punch and kick him off yet he failed. His ticks were getting worse as he kept cursing, “g-g-get off, off, off son of a bi-bitch, bi-“ not even giving him time to finish Tim grabbed his hair and started banging Toby’s head on the ground wildly. "learn how to speak you ticci bitch." He was acting like an animal.

That was too much, you can’t just stay there and watch this. You get up and grab an empty wine bottle, thanks lord the room wasn’t cleaned up yet, your darlings hazel eyes watching you in panic. He understands.

The sound of shattered glass filled the room, little pieces falling into the ground. It caused Tim to lose his balance. His eyes scan your still naked body with rage “you will regret this little sh-“ he let go of Toby and attack you.

Hopefully there was enough time for Toby to pull himself together and get up. He hold your wrist and pulled you behind him. “Don’t you fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, touch her.” Both of the boys heads were covered with blood yet Toby's conscious was almost gone.

"Give me back my fucking pills Rogers. I told you not to touch my stuff." Tim said. Your boyfriend pulled out the pills Tim asked for, throwing them at the savage man infront of you. "And my drugs too, give them" Toby was losing too much blood. "Jeff got them." Toby replied coldly.

The other man was satisfied to see your lover injured and covered in blood. "wery well." You could feel his eyes on your body as you place Toby on your shared bed.

Turning back to Tim again, you were looking at him full of disgust he ruined your morning "Get out Tim you got what you wanted, now leave us alone." you said. "Not yet sugar but ı will leave this time." His gaze on your breasts, you uncomfortably covered yourself making him giggle at your action. "Behave your toy, Rogers..." and he finally left the room.

Toby kept his silence as you take care of his wounds which made you quiet nervous. He would normally rent about silly things to lighten the mood. There is nothing wrong, he must be having a sudden mood change you think to yourself. “I t-told you to stay in bed.” He broke the silence. “You didn’t think that I would just watch, did you?” You said with a little smile but it only caused him to get angrier.

He was looking at you as if a wolf looking at its prey, filling this little bunny with nothing but fear. “Toby i-“ he didn’t let you finish. “Tell me, darling, didn’t i told you to stay.” There is nowhere you can run bunny, you had already reached the dead end. "yes, but-" he covered your mouth "Shut up. fuck off, fuck off, don't you know wh-what could happen?" the other hand grabbed your wrist, holding it tightly. "mgh-"

Thats it, big bad wolf finally hunt the bunny. “Maybe It’s better to show you, agh, you would l-like that wouldn’t you.” He woofed. You know exactly what he is planning to do, Toby knows you overhate it but this never stopped him so far. Bubbles of He pull off his claws. Hazel eyes locked into your teary ones, “N-no, please everything but not that.” You begged.

He stand up and grab some clothes of his, handing them over you with a grin. “You wouldn’t like your clothes to get dirty right?” You hide under the bedsheet trying to ignore him “Cmon sunshine, d-dress up. We’re going out.” Toby cooed.

The silence keeps it easy, keeps you safe for the moment. It’s all over now, so why are you still trembling with fear? Toby placed his hands on your shoulders “Good girl.” He said with a satisfied voice. You couldn’t stop starting at the mess you caused, motionless bodies covered with blood. Toby’s hands slowly slipped to yours, taking his hatchets from you. “You made a huge mess, bumblebee. I w-wasn’t expecting this much.” Soft lips touched your neck.

“I did’t… i-i never wanted t-to…” you cried. Toby turned around, places his hands on your cheeks. “Don’t cry.” He wiped your tears away “i only s-show you how you could end up.” You hugged him and hide your face, there was no sound but your tear drops meeting the ground. A panic attack followed your irregular heartbeats. He didn't mean to broke you this much, no, Toby only wanted to show you what could have happend. "Hey...it's o-okay." strong arms wrapped around your body, keeping you safe.

Same feelings swallows you every time. Trying to get out of this mess is pointless, the more you struggle the more you sink in deeper. Your struggles are nothing.

“You tear up every time…” he said as he left kisses on your neck. “Aren’t you h-happy, we are the same.” Toby grabbed your hairs carefully, exposing the neck he kissed. “You’re a murderer just like me, don’t cry.” Toby spoke the truth you didn’t wanted to hear. “Please, home…” you cried. “Alright, bum-bumblebee.”

He walked you to an old felled tree, you two sit side by side. "Don't cry anymore bumblebee, everything is alright now." He said with a sade tone. Your hands were trapped between his, warm and a little bit shaky too. Toby cracked his necks unwillingly, "Fuck! that hurt." his words made you laugh a little bit. Oh, he will never change will he? Both of your laughs echoed among the woods.

Toby left you on your shared room when the sun get placed by the moon, he said he will be back at late and you shouldn’t wait for him, locked the door and take the key with him. So here you are again, trapped in this booring room all by yourself.

You could watch tv or read a book to entertain yourself but you didn’t wanted to, other alternatives to be entertained are masturbating and sleeping but you didn’t wanted to do them either. You left alone to repeat same things whenever Toby locks you, yeah maybe you enjoy it most of the time but when this became a part of your regular day it started to get boring.

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta fandom #ticci toby x y/n #ticci toby x you #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby smut #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader smut #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #creepypasta oneshot #creepypasta masky #creepypasta hoodie #masky

[daphnebowen]

percy jackson episode five thoughts

I skipped a couple episodes where I wrote down my thoughts, but I'm about to rewatch and write don't worry! warning: lots of screaming, fangirling, heart attacks, and nonsense below :))

also these are all just copied straight from the notebook I use when I'm writing down my thoughts and I barely proofread them :)

Annabeths trust in Percy being alive is literally just like her belief that Luke is alive later on and even though it's kinda sorta different (or at least people are gonna treat it that way) I'm all here for it

WHY WERE THE FATES SO CREEPY HELLO

AAAAAHHHH THE PERCABETH HUGGGG I IGNORED SO MANY SPOILERS AND IM SO GLAD 2 minutes in and I'm already fangirling so hard haha

is Grover blushing at them??

"surprise" omg Walker 😭🥹

the droplet of water clinging to walkers chin is so distracting

"I'm the last person to realize this aren't I?" It's okay Percy

his eyes are SO FREAKING BLUE it's giving zac efron from hsm2

"it doesn't have to be a thing, yk. That you hugged me." OHKAY HES NOT ENTIRE CLULESS THIS IS FAN SERVICE RIGHT HERE WE KNOW THAT IT MOST ABSOLUTELY WILL BE A THING LMAO and annabeths "oh boy" and Grover's clear exasperation HAHAH

where the heck did the motorcycle go lol we know it's ares but like it doesn't take that long to drive

"we're all gonna die... eventually" wise words Percy wise words

ugh the fact that it's Luke's string 💔

Ares ‼️‼️‼️

Ok but why is ares literally EXACTLY how I thought he would be?!?!

"that's my cousin? what kind of family is this?" A dysfunctional one for sure, sorry Percy you're in for a rough ride

ares starting a fight on twitter is ABSOLUTELY CRAZY and yet so in character lmao

"I'm gonna kill him" same Percy SAME I will gladly help you - although all things considered I am glad they decided to keep delinquent percy in the show

they keep bringing up the "push someone down a flight of stairs" thing! There's no way this is just a coincidence anymore, what with chalice of the gods and earlier on with Annabeth and like... they're obviously doing it on purpose. is that gonna be the shows new thing?? trusting someone enough so that if they can push you down the stairs they're the one? idk man, love the metaphor tho

PLS LET THERE BE THE ZOO TRUCK SCENE OH MY PLS

leah's eyebrow quirk is 💋

WATERLAND IS PERFECT OMG

walker portrayed Percy's anxiety and nervousness and scaredness (is that a word?) perfectly

Can't tell if Grover is actually a history buff or playing Ares so he will talk but that scene was actually cool, I like the change they made to have Grover stay behind (this was what I wrote originally, but now after seeing peoples interpretations and opinions and things I know he was playing ares and I think it's BRILLIANT how smartly he played the god of war. Good for you buddy!)

"I didn't say anything" "I can feel you thinking it" OHKAY THEN

thrill ride of love = flawless. No words. I am speechless.

"I hate kids" relatable

ARES IS ACTUALLY BEING SMART AND MAKING SENSE FOR ONCE not to mention he's so funny and so relatable!

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH SEAWEED BRAIN ALERT 🚨 SEAWEED BRAIN ALERT 🚨 SHE CALLED HIM SEAWEED BRAIN AND I LOVED IT never mind the actual SCREAM i let out lmao

is Annabeth about to cry?!?!

yeah she's definitely about to cry

why am I so scared. This cannot be happening. What?? What??? he's the main character. main characters don't die. well except for Magnus chase BUT THOSE ARE DIFFERENT GODS AND DIFFERENT RULES NO WALKER

why am I actually so scared about this chair thing omg

(I would just like to say that I was so speechless and in shock throughout the whole chair thing, so I didn't write down a single quote but I loved them all I just was in too much shock to pause the show lol)

um.

WHAT. JUST. HAPPENED.

WHY IS MY BABY GOLD

WHY IS MY CHILD GOLDDDD

I AM SO CONFUSED RIGHT NOW THIS DEFINITELY DIDNT HAPPEN IN THE BOOKS MY BRAIN IS TOO SLOW FOR THIS 😭😭😭

oh my gosh ITS HEPHEASTUS

dude the way that door suddenly opened scared the crap out of me

leah is absolutely shining as Annabeth, her monologue was so profound and heartfelt, love that addition 💗

THAT CLIFFHANGER GOES CRAZYYYY

okay of course those of us who read the books know who really stole the lightning bolt and stuff but the clueless fools just watching the show are gonna be like OMG WHO WHO and even if they piece it together technically they'll only be half right. and their confusion and confidence in what they think they know is going to be SO entertaining in the coming weeks hehehehe and even throughout the whole series if we continue to get green lights for the series

but yes that episode was utter perfection! Now for the teaser...

WHO DID PERCY JUST TACKLE EXCUSE ME

duuuuude. The lotus casino is MASSIVE and actually super pretty I cannot wait for the episode tomorrow!

WHY IS PERCY DRIVING OMG THIS IS NOT LEGAL although tell me why he is literally better at driving than I am HAHAHAHAHAH

ugh and that is it! Those are all my random thoughts from the episode! thanks for reading :))

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #percy jackson and the olympians #percy pjo #pjo tv show #annabeth chase #ares #grover underwood

[oceansssblue]

[THE BAD BATCH]—COMFORTING THE STUDENT series.

HUNTER/GN READER

WARNINGS: DISCUSSIONS OF ANXIETY (WITH VOMITING ISSUES) 💔 AND COMFORTING FLUFF 💖. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS OF READER.

EVER BEEN STRESSED AS A STUDENT? WELL, JUST IMAGINE IF YOUR BB BOYFRIEND CAME TO THE RESCUE. THAT'S THIS.

You start to feel anxiety seeping into your bones and slowly conquering your body. Your heart beats faster, your breathing pattern changes and increases. The knot in your throat constricts further. Words blurr together in your mind; and you know you need to take a few minutes to yourself and pause. You close the textbook on your datapad, turning the screen off, and close your eyes too. You have to calm down. You still have three days left to study for your first exam of the semester. You've been working for this for months, learning as much as you can; and even if you don't know every single unit of the subject, and you won't in time for your tests, it's alright. You'll do what you can. You always do; and most of the times –with a few minor exceptions– it works alright.

"Cyare?" Hunter's deep voice carefully calls you all the way across the room.

You're studying in the living room-comedor table; while he has been sitting on your sofa and checking his latest mission report for a while.

You open your eyes and look at him; inmediately feeling scanned by his beautiful set of dark coffee-coloured eyes. Hunter is beautiful. He's undoubtedly sexy; and handsome, too. You adore his long hair and sharp jaw line, his tattoos and shoulders. Every inch of his skin; and who he is as a person too. You can't believe you're the lucky girl who gets to call him boyfriend.

"Yeah, love?" You answer, trying to regulate your anxiety still.

You don't want to worry him; but Hunter's inquisitive stare always finds out what you're hiding and it's not an exception this time.

"Are you feeling alright? You in pain?" He asks, trying to figure out what's the deal, frowning slightly in his investigation. "Your breathing pattern and hearbeat have sped up quite a lot in just a handfull of minutes. You've been fidgeting around in your chair more than usual, too. What's wrong? Have you pulled a muscle again?"

You can't help but smile at Hunter's guess. He has helped you through those kind of pains before; always the caring boyfriend. You are hesitant, however, to tell him the truth. You know what people say about anxiety; they think it's a stupid thing, a way of asking for attention, or a simple dramatization. They think you can simply whisk it away; they don't understand it's not just in your head –which already feels like a lot–, but it affects you physically as well.

"It's... It's stress" you end up admitting, just because it's Hunter, and you know he'd never make fun of you. "I have anxiety. It makes it difficult to concentrate and my whole body feels sick sometimes".

Hunter seems to be surprised by the revelation. You realise he's never experienced one of your episodes before. Thankfully, this is a light one. It's a good slow introduction to what you sometimes have to go through.

"How long has this been happening to you?" He asks, gently and cautiously.

You shrug your shoudlers like it doesn't matter –it does–, and look downwards to your datapad.

"Years, now" you answer, quietly. "It used to be so much worse a few years back, though. I had this near pannick attacks and I vomited every single day for like close to a year straight. I... Had a lot of stomach gastritis and such and nearly had to be hospitalised once."

You weren't planning to tell all that; but the words just keep coming. It's something you've never shared with anyone. It was a terrible, scaring moment of your life; you felt like your body was not listening to you, and each breakfeast, lunch and dinner were a total torture. You wanted to eat; you just couldn't.

"That sounds horrible, darling" he answers, his voice soft and full of affection. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. You're better now, though?"

You nodded calmly. Somehow, talking about it has made your current episode subside.

"Yeah. My uh, head doctor, sugested I started taking pills for a few months to help me cope with that, but I refused. I knew my problems would come back when I was done with them and needed to learn how to control it by myself. So I kept trying til I slowly got back to normal, day by day. Nowadays my anxiety attacks are nowhere as strong as back then. My heartbeat and breathing speeds up and my throat closes. I ocasionally feel nausea; but I don't end up vomiting or anything like that. It's just a once in a three months kind of thing now, too. Other than that, I just feel stress as a regular person would."

Hunter nods, satisfied and happy to hear that. You suddenly feel shy after your explanation. Hopefully he understands.

"Good. Is there something I can do for you right now?" he adds, and patiently waits for your answer while you think about it.

Honestly, you just need a break now. You've been studying for hours straight and you need to rest and recharge, if only for a handfull of minutes. And Hunter is the best hugger in the world, so...

"Can we cuddle for a tiny?" you ask, and Hunter smiles like the request has made him happy too.

"Of course, mesh'la" he agrees, gesturing to you with one hand while he readjusts in the sofa. "Get your wonderful ass here".

You can't help but chuckle and you quickly follow him to the sofa, droping your body besides his and wasting no time in finding the perfect spot against him. Hunter opens his arms; let's you find your place. Once you do –head resting on his strong chest and one arm wrapped around his abdomen– he folds himself around you. He hugs you to his body tighter with both hands; head tilting forward and to the side so it rests on top of yours. He gives a small kiss to your hair before letting out a sigh and melting into the embrace.

"We can stay like this as long as you want, cyar'ika" he whispers, softly, caressing your back with one of his hands. "There's no rush".

You humm and nuzzle against him. You'd stay right here forever if you could, with Hunter's arms wrapped around you and his familiar scent tickling your nose. He's home.

THE END.

---------------------

AND THAT'S MY SPIN ON HUNTER FOR THE "COMFORTING THE STUDENT" SERIES"! I FEEL LIKE EACH OF THEM WOULD HAVE A DIFFERENT APROACH AND IT'S FUN WRITING THEIR INDIVIDUAL ONE-SHOTS. TECH WAS THE FIRST ONE ON THE LIST; NOW WE HAVE ECHO, CROSSHAIR AND WRECKER LEFT.

PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES. WHATEVER YOU'RE GOING THROUGH DOESN'T NEED TO BE PERMANENT; YOUR LIFE MOVES ON AND KEEPS CHANGING, AND EVEN IF IT'S SCARY, YOU'LL PUSH THROUGH IT. EACH EPISODE OF YOUR STORY WILL BRING NEW CHALLENGES, UPS AND DOWNS AND THAT'S OKAY. I'M HERE TO TALK IF YOU NEED TO!

LIKE ALWAYS, LET ME KNOW IF YOU'VE LIKED IT AND REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED. REQUESTS/PROMPTS OPENED.

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT ONE!

Xx,

Sky.

Back to my masterlist here!

#hunter tbb #hunter bad batch #tbb hunter #fanfic #star wars #clones #fics #tbb #tech tbb #wrecker tbb #clone wars #echo tbb #star wars tbb #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #sw tbb #tbb echo #the bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #sargent hunter #hunter x reader #clone au #the clone wars #clone troopers #clone force 99 #fluff #light angst #comfort

[polarisbibliotheque]

Survivor's Blood (Leon x Reader) - Chapter 1

Survivor's Blood

Pairing: Leon x Reader

Summary: After Raccoon City, Leon became the only Government agent with that kind of expertise. With relentless training, he was now a Special Agent - again, on his first day in the job. He just didn't expect to live Raccoon City all over again... Maybe Leon was fated to always have the worst first-days-at-work ever.

Age Restriction: 18+. It's horror - so expect a LOT of blood, corpses, dismemberments, very graphic descriptions of violence, dubious morals and people doing everything to survive. Nothing we haven't seen on RE, but reader discretion advised.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Ok. Long story short, Leon has PTSD. He'll be trying to deal with that while again living very violent and traumatizing experiences. The reader is also damaged by the whole situation - again, expect PTSD, anxiety attacks, doom and gloom, all that stuff. I'll leave warnings every chapter there is something very explicit and potentially triggering, though.

Author's Notes: RE4 remake is among us! Bet you guys didn't see this coming - I didn't either. I have 50+ pages of this sitting on my pc since before I started this blog. I was writing it in Portuguese just to indulge me, but with all the RE4 thing, I'm quite hyped for it - and it came in a good time, I'm in need of keeping my head distracted. Like Nemesis, I'll try to update this one weekly. The good side, it's already halfway written, so I'll only have to work on translating to post - with Nemesis, I actually have to write it.

This one is between RE2 and RE4 - I wanted to explore the innocent little rookie cop Leon becoming badass goofy special agent Leon, so this is kinda it. Almost like a character study that capcom never does &lt;3

Fret not, I do finish my works in progress ;)

Also very proud of this header as well

Chapter 1

Leon dreamt almost every day with the horrors he had lived in Raccoon City.

To wake up before the sun painted the sky in golden tones, with his hair plastered on his face from the sweat, already grabbing a gun he got in the habit of leaving by his nightstand and aiming it at a random point in the darkness wasn’t a random occurrence anymore.

“Shit…” And he always cursed between a tired sigh, feeling the cold floor under his feet as his elbows rested on his knees, head hanging low.

He could choose the moment that appeared in his dreams, as if he was still there: the cop Leon tried to save and got cut in half right in his hands, the many heads he blew up of innocent people, his very own colleagues who dragged themselves towards him trying to eat him alive, those terrible monsters who followed Leon around as if the was the only living being in that hell…

Leon had enough memories for a whole lifetime. And, most probably, Post-traumatic Stress Disorder also enough for a lifetime.

It was to be expected that the government would find him for intense interrogation sessions and soon decided to turn him into one of its Special Agents – precisely those who do the job that no one else could. And all of that because no one had the experience he had; the Raccoon City experience.

Who would’ve known that from a rookie cop on his first day at the job, Leon would become a Special Agent of the Government.

Even though he had that experience, and it made Leon become a Special Agent, now he was just a rookie again. He had been in some field activities – simple stuff, but, in his dictionary, almost nothing compared to surviving the virus outbreak at the RPD. So, for all effects and purposes, he was still a rookie.

And he never imagined what kind of mission would be his first as a Special Agent. Leon was probably doomed by fate to have the worst first days at work ever.

**

New Setosa, April 29th, 2001 – 16h43

“The whole city is a mess, Chief Nakai. We managed to rescue a few people, but, truth is, everyone is scattered around and we don’t know what to do.” A police officer reported to the police Chief of New Setosa, the city that turned into hell in a few hours. “We don’t know if there are any more survivors or where they are.”

Chief Nakai kept his eyebrows together, evidently worried. Screams of mayhem could be heard all over the town outside the department, and the officers in New Setosa had been called to help in that mess they found themselves in. They said it was a virus, something that could become an epidemic, and it spread faster than a fever at a kindergarten.

“What about Washington? You spoke to them, right? Are them sending more people? Help? Rescue…?” The police officer himself was desperate. In all his years in duty, he had never been through something like that.

“The Government promised to send a team to help us, with a specialist in this kind of situation.” Nakai sighed, finally leaving his room with the officer – only to find a bunch of desolate people needing first aid and food, terrorized with what could be outside.

“How can someone be a specialist in this?!” The police officer was already far from trying to control himself. “I’ve never heard of anything like this shit! I don’t even know what those… Things out there are!”

“In Raccoon City, around two years ago, there was a similar incident. Do you remember…? They blew up the whole city ‘cause apparently a virus spread around and that was the only way to contain the epidemics…?” Nakai tried to remind his subordinate, but the man only denied with his head. They probably found a good way to cover up the story of Racoon City and only a few people remembered what had happened. “Well. Maybe this Special Agent from the Government will be able to help us with this. Maybe he led the extractions in Raccoon City. Maybe he helped the dozen poor bastards who survived to get out of there.”

As if on cue to the words of Chief Nakai, the symphony of approaching helicopters made everyone pay attention to what was happening outside. They approached and distanced right after, making the sound of coordinated steps at the top of the Police Department – the NSPD – be heard. The steps approached in a hurry – and no one knew if they would be friendly or not. One of the internal doors opened with a loud noise, giving way to men in black uniforms and heavy weapons, led by a tall man with gray hair in a military cut.

“Commander Rogers?” Nakai asked as the man immediately approached, offering his hand to start the conversation in the friendlier tone they could at that time. “It doesn’t look like a sufficient number of men to save a whole city.”

“If our suspicions are correct, there may be not that much people to save, Chief Nakai.” The Commander answered with a strong handshake, observing the despair in the eyes of the people in the NSPD. “What’s the situation?”

“There’s a lot more people to save, but we don’t have enough police force. The entire city is chaos outside, and this is the most we were able to do at the moment. We already had too many losses; many good police officers died today.”

Leon observed the entrance hall of the NSPD, in silence. He remembered when he first entered the RPD, years ago, and there was no one. The silence was deadly, and he could only hear the noises of the undead chasing him through the corridors of the police department. That was very similar to Raccoon City…  Too similar.

He hoped with all his heart his PTSD wouldn’t trigger that night. That was the closest he found himself to Raccoon City in years.

“We will try to rescue the greatest number of people we can.” Rogers walked alongside Nakai and the police officer to a nearby meeting room. The Commander signaled Leon to follow him, and he did without a word. As they entered the room, there was a map of New Setosa taped to the wall.

“The issue is that people are spread around the whole city.” Nakai pointed at the map, hopeless. “We tried to gather as much as we could, but those things are at the gates, ready to kill anyone who tries to leave the NSPD. I don’t think people left their homes, and those who did… Well. You saw how it’s like outside. It’s gonna be impossible to gather everyone, we never saw anything like this.”

“We haven’t, but I have a Special Agent who has already gone through something similar.” Rogers confirmed with his head, making Nakai and the officer look at him with hope blooming in their chests. They waited for someone strong and unrelenting to walk in, a war machine, almost like Rambo or the Terminator. “Leon Kennedy.”

As the Commander pointed at Leon, their glances were a little… Disappointed. Leon looked like everything but a war machine like they expected: not that strong, not that imposing, maybe a little too skinny, albeit fit. He looked too young, too inexperienced, too cute for… That.

“No offense, Commander…” The police officer had to say something. After more than ten years working on the streets, he only saw rookies with that face. “But he doesn’t look like the type of person who would know what to do in this situation. We had cops with fifteen years of experience and training dying like cattle today.”

“I told you, Commander…” Leon closed his eyes and took a deep sigh, not in the mood to at least try to smile. He was certain no one would respect him, precisely for looking too young, maybe even inexperienced. And, honestly, that was his first day as a Special Agent, in what could be a copy of Raccoon City. What if he had a panic attack? No one would ever respect him again.

“Kennedy is one of the few survivors of the disaster in Raccoon City.” Rogers words were harsh, ignoring completely how desolated Leon was by his side. “I never dealt with those things, nor anyone else in my team, and even lesser you. Leon, on the other hand, killed dozens of those creatures, survived the massacre, avoided worse consequences and helped other survivors to get out of there alive. Everything new we will see today, won’t be any news for him. If there’s a person here who may know the best strategies for surviving and saving people, this person is him.”

“You survived Raccoon City?” Nakai had his eyebrows furrowed. “Again, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look too young, Mr. Kennedy.”

“It was my first day at work.” Now Leon had a not so happy smile on his lips. “I have a completely different definition of ‘hellish first day in the job’.”

There was something of strange in his eyes; something different. Leon could look too young and even naïve, but something changed when they looked into his eyes. They had something of tired, too harsh and too merciless for someone so young. Those eyes carried something impossible to erase from the mind – as if they would never forget the blood and the death. They expected eyes filled with kindness and innocence, but all they got was cold and emptiness.

“So… Mr. Kennedy.” The police officer looked a little ashamed of his own antics, pointing at the map once again. “What do you think? How was it with you guys? Did you manage to rescue someone?”

“Well… We were able to find a few people. They managed to protect themselves somewhere strategic and had guns for protection.” Leon sighed, taking a look at the city map. “An emergency announcement led everyone to the RPD, but the virus also got there, and it was a massacre. They couldn’t rescue the people fast enough, no one was there for us.”

Leon fell silent for a while, still observing the map. Nakai and the police officer exchanged wary looks while Rogers remained in silence. No one was there, Leon remembered. He and Claire found each other for a whim of fate and had to make their own way between hungry creatures who literally wanted to eat them alive. In the end, the city was destroyed with a bomb. There was nothing left. If Leon and Claire hadn’t insisted so much in their survival, they would’ve had died. The same thing with Jill and Carlos, who now had to battle their own demons because of all that and almost didn’t manage to leave the city on time. They were one of the few who were lucky, very lucky.

“Leon…?” And he was brought back by the Commander’s voice. Leon shook his head slightly and pointed at the map again.

“I don’t think that many people who stayed at home survived. Unfortunately, that’s what happened in Raccoon… We can try to gather some people in big places: schools, hospitals, supermarkets; and then we rescue them little by little with police cars.”

“Most streets are blocked.” Nakai denied with his head, hands on his waist. “We had too many accidents, the streets are pure chaos. Cars, trucks, motorbikes… You choose. They’re all thrown in the streets, in pieces or in flames.”

“In pieces and in flames too.” The police officer had to point it out.

“That happened in Raccoon as well. We can ask people to gather somewhere nearby, and our team goes in for the rescue. We'll call the base and ask for enough helicopters to take everyone away from here.” Leon suggested right after, looking at Rogers for approval.

“And how are we going to gather everyone in one single place?” The Commander still thought about it, albeit knowing it was the best shot they had. “It’s not like we can go around screaming a PSA.”

“Radio and television. When things like this happen, people try to communicate and keep waiting for communication.” Leon nodded as he remembered what happened in his own city, years prior. “When they announced the bomb, it was through a special announcement in the TV, I remember Carlos told me. He woke up and it was basically an audio telling everyone who survived to leave the city ‘cause a missile was programed to blow it up. We can try at least through the radio.”

“Hmmm… Grace is here in the NSPD with her assistant, Chief.” The officer was starting to see the first glimmer of hope amidst that hell. “If there’s still someone alive in the studio, she might be able to record the announcement here and we can start an emergency broadcast in Channel 8.”

“Grace is the weather girl; she was in the middle of a transmission when one of those things almost ate her and the whole team.” The Chief explained, shaking his head right after. “They lost two assistants, but the cameraman was able to flee with his camera untouched. Grace appeared running after him completely desperate, still holding the microphone.”

“It might work. If we can guarantee there’s someone at the studio, it’s possible gather people in… The hospital, maybe?” Leon observed the map, but soon received a frantic negative answer both from the police officer and Nakai.

“That was the starting point of all this disgrace.” The Chief ran his hand over his forehead. “We’re avoiding it like the plague. I’m sure no one survived in there.”

“Ok. Let’s talk to this Grace and see if we can get some communication at the broadcast station.” Rogers fumbled with the rifle in his hands, apparently having no worries with Leon carrying just one handgun, dearly named Matilda.

Rogers didn’t mind Leon’s weirdness. The kid had survived hell. In his point of view, he could be as weird as he wanted to.

“If we can’t contact anyone there…” With that, Rogers glanced at his Special Agent. Once more, Leon’s steel blue eyes carried that quite atypical coldness.

“I’ll go there, and I’ll find someone. If there isn’t anyone, you can just guide me, and I’ll make it work.” Leon had a small smile in his lips, remembering the first end of the world he had gone through. “I already had to learn a couple things the hard way. Making a TV broadcast work mustn’t be that hard.”

“Great. Let’s redirect the survivors to the school, any objections?” Rogers finally decided and got only negative answers from both Nakai and the police officer.

He wouldn’t make it obvious, but he was proud of Leon – for an ex-rookie cop, he was behaving quite well as a Special Agent.

**

“Grace?” In the packed entrance hall of the police department, filled with crying and mayhem, the voice of the police Chief made a woman with dark hair and shiny green eyes turn around to him, startled. “We need your help.”

“You?!” That’s what she spat back at him as an answer, completely baffled. The red suit jacket and skirt were dirty and misaligned, the white shirt stained with blood. “We are the ones who need help! Are you doin’ somethin’ to take us out of here or just chattin’ and drinkin’ tea?!”

“Charming.” Leon murmured to Rogers, already internally sighing upon realizing they really needed her help and couldn’t just ask someone else for it. They didn’t need someone with a superstar complex at that moment. The Commander just answered with a small, almost inaudible, laugh.

“We need you to make an emergency broadcast to the city. Where’s your assistant? What is his name?”

“His name is assistant.” Grace huffed, crossing her arms and already looking impatient. “What emergency broadcast? You guys want me to go to the studio for that? I am not leavin’ here.”

“Grace, please… Be reasonable.” Nakai gently touched her arm, approaching the woman. The police Chief lowered his voice. “We want all the survivors to gather in one single place. A TV broadcast helped some people to survive in Raccoon City, it might help here too. We need you to call the studio and see if there’s someone alive in there to broadcast while you give the announcement and the assistant records it.”

“In Raccoon City…? How do you know that?” The woman now looked confused and less combative. She also lowered her voice and seemed a little more prone to help.

“I was there.” Leon almost shrugged, being noticed for the first time. “If there’s no one in the studio, I’ll go there, and you tell me how to broadcast. The goal here is to gather the most people we can in just one place so we can get you all out of the city.”

Grace remained silent for a few seconds, observing Leon. She slowly ran her eyes through each of them, confirming with her head as she thought about it, finally uncrossing her arms.

“It might work…” She murmured back. “If there’s someone alive in the station, I know who’s gonna be. Let’s hope they listen the phone ringin’.”

The group headed back to the meeting room, closing the door and putting the phone in speakers. Grace dialed as fast as she could, watching her cameraman lost outside the room and signaling him to enter and remain silent. Patience wasn’t her virtue.

The phone barely rang once until a silent voice picked it up on the other side.

“Hello…?” It was uncertain, probably hiding. They didn’t let the phone ring so it wouldn’t draw unwanted attention.

“Hello? Y/n?!” Grace rested both her hands on the table, almost covering the phone with her body. The voice on the other side sighed in delight and had to contain itself not to scream.

“Gracie?! You’re alive?!” You took a deep breath while the woman affirmed enthusiastically, your heart beating fast and tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“Y/n, oh my, y/n…!” Grace murmured, sighing right after, trying to hold back her tears. “I knew that you would be alive…!”

“It was tough, Grace. Almost died. Where are you?”

“On the NSPD! That’s exactly why I’m callin’! They are here with…”

“Wait…! Stop talking…!” You suddenly fell silent and everyone in the meeting room heard insistent knocks on a door, alongside horrible undead moans. They exchanged quick looks, not knowing what was going on.

After a few good minutes in silence, the banging finally stopped and the dragged steps couldn’t be heard anymore. You controlled your breath and barely made any noise – they started to ask themselves if you still were on the other side of the line.

“Hey. I’m at the Director’s room, I barricaded the door but those things still try to enter here until changing their attention to fresh blood.” You finally got back to the call, speaking even lower than before. They had to make the speakers louder on their side.

“Is there anyone else alive in there…?” Grace was even scared to ask. Actually, she didn’t want to, but she knew they would ask you that eventually.

“No. Not that I know of.” You sighed on the other side, following with a humorless laugh. “But, I think this is going to comfort you: the fresh blood is from the Director. I tied him up one of the windows after he died; he bled so much that he immediately grabs the attention of those things who are feasting on him.”

“Hmmm…” And Grace laughed briefly after hearing the news, a little more content than she should’ve. “It’s a lot more than what that shitty abuser deserved.”

“Well, at least he was useful for something, right?” You shrugged, understanding Grace’s anger. Anyone would understand it.

“Y/n, my dear, I need you to do me a favor. That’s why I called.”

“When do you call me not to ask for a favor?” You tried to joke for a while, making Grace let out a genuine laugh. “Even in the apocalypse you call me for favors. What if I had died?”

“I knew you hadn’t died. Out of every person in that studio, you’re the only one who had a chance; I’m just alive now ‘cause I wasn’t there when all hell broke loose.” Grace suddenly turned serious, looking a lot more professional than before. “Chief Nakai and Commander Rogers of the Special Forces want me to record an emergency broadcast so all survivors will go to the school, and they can be escorted to the NSPD and rescued. The idea is to broadcast it on the TV and the radio, so I’m gonna need someone inside the studio to broadcast the signal of our camera to TVs across the town and my audio through the radio.”

“Hmmm, ok. I’ve no idea how to do that nor how I’m gonna get there, but we’ll worry about it when I actually get there.” You mirrored her tone, immediately understanding the seriousness of the situation.

“Excuse me, y/n?” Leon finally decided to take over the call. “Leon Kennedy, Special Agent and Raccoon City survivor. I can help. Do you have any radio in there?”

“Like a walkie talkie?” You asked back and, from the noise, it seemed like you were going around the room. “Dunno. The Director had all kinds of junk in here.”

“He had one of our police radios.” The officer added with a long sigh, receiving suspicious looks. “How do you think he knew exactly when some interesting crime happened and appeared there out of the blue, sometimes even before than us? The man was never worth a dime.”

“Well. At least now he’s worth something.” You considered in a mumble, followed by a rather loud noise and some things being fumbled around. “Locked drawer, the key is probably still with him. I don’t think I’ll be able to get rid of the half-dead people already feeding on the piece of crap at the moment.”

Grace giggled – that was the internal nickname of the Director to anyone who worked in the broadcast station; specially women.

“Hmmm, found it. How can I turn it on?”

“There’s a switch on top of it that shows the frequencies, can you see it?” Leon’s answer was in autopilot, getting a positive response from you after a few seconds. “We can find a frequency…”

“0.5 hertz. No one uses that channel, you won’t be interrupted.” The police Chief added before Leon could finish talking, throwing him a similar radio. Leon adjusted on that very same frequency.

“Great. You just have to press a button on the side to open the channel to talk to me. I’m gonna test it here and you tell me if it works, ok?” He didn’t even have to say much for you to agree. With a few words, you could hear him loud and clear.

“Ok, it works. What about you?”

“Working as well.” Leon smiled. Luckily, you seemed to be a fast learner. “Talk to me as you walk around the studio, and I can help you around those things. I was a cop in Raccoon City.”

“Yeah, I know. Claire and Jill told me about you.” Your answer came with a sigh, not at all happy with the perspective of getting out of the room you had made so secure for yourself. “Gimme a minute to get ready. I’ll call you on the radio, ok?”

“Ok, that works.”

“Y/n.” Before ending the call, Grace called you one more time. “Just… Don’t die, ok? I wanna see you again. I don’t wanna be the only one left from the studio.”

“Don’t worry, Gracie. We need a lot more than half a dozen slow zombies to kill me.” You had a cocky smile in your voice, making her laugh before finally ending the call.

The only problem was that there was a lot more than half a dozen zombies in the studio.

**

To be continued...

#resident evil #re4 #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil imagine #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon x you #long fic #re4 remake #after years and years collecting dust in my drawer #this is finally seeing the light of day #treat it well please xD #what's interesting is that I kinda started to write this to cope with the pandemics when it started #reading it all over again is certainly interesting #I know it's a weird way to cope but hey #no normal people in the bibliotheque #also Leon and Dante are my two favourite himbos in this world #I had to bring 'im here eventually "^^ #hope you guys like it!! #I JUST REALIZED I DUNNO THE YEAR RE4 HAPPENS #ok chill I just checked it's 2004 #I did my research before writing this thank the gods