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scuderiahoney · 5 months

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Tangerine

Oscar Piastri x reader

Masterlist // Part 1 // Part 1.5 // Part 2

Summary: You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried. Or: I wrote this while actually being unable to sleep, passed out for 3 hours, woke up and finished it. So… here you go, I guess?

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: insomnia, anxiety/mild paranoia?, alcohol, limited knowledge of the actual structure of the MTC and the corporate structure of McLaren in general, a poorly researched night in Tokyo

The MTC lobby is empty, besides you. The lights are half turned off, motion sensors that have gone hours without detecting anything. You’ve stuck to your table in the corner. It’s quiet, just how you like it.

You look up from your notebook after who knows how long, blinking your weary eyes. Outside, the floodlights reflect off the inky black lake. There’s a car, pulling up in the drop off area outside the front doors. It’s Oscar, you think, his car one of a few that are easily recognizable. Sure enough, it’s confirmed when he climbs out of the driver’s side door. He leaves it running as he makes his way up to the door.

Oscar scans his pass and the doors swing open, followed by all of the lights in the lobby flickering on. You squint, fighting the urge to shield your eyes from the harsh lighting. Oscar is rushing through the lobby, a man on a mission, but he skids to a stop about halfway across the shiny tiled floor.

He turns, slowly, and makes eye contact with you. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

You hold back a laugh, thinking that might be a little mean, all things considered. “What are you doing here?”

He sighs, hands hanging at his sides. “I forgot my phone charger, and my laptop, and…” he pauses, frowning at you. “What are you doing here?”

You raise your brows right back. “Working?”

You watch his eyes flicker across your setup. You’re still in the same McLaren sweatshirt you’d been wearing when you saw him that morning. Your hair is piled atop your head. Your laptop sits open in front of you, the only source of light before Oscar burst through the doors. There are papers and notebooks scattered on the tabletop. Your pen is missing- you selfishly hope that as he scours your table, he’ll spot it.

“You got here at 8am,” he says, bewildered. “It’s almost midnight. That’s almost 16 hours.”

He says nothing about the pen. Why would he? He doesn’t know it’s missing. Logically, it must be here somewhere, probably under a paper or clipped to a notebook, but you’ve given up.

“Yes,” you answer, smirking. “You’re great at math, Oscar.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, home? Sleeping?”

You shrug. “I took breaks. It’s not like I’ve been working all day straight.”

You’re not lying. You’d taken a good, long lunch break, and an afternoon walk around the grounds. You’ve gotten up to stretch a couple times, made runs to the break room for coffee. You hope he doesn’t see straight through it, though. Hope he can’t see the dark circles under your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the exhaustion weighing your shoulders.

It’s not that you weren’t tired. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. One of those days. So instead, you had decided to be productive. Which had led to this- you in the lobby of your office building, hunched over a laptop. Oscar, the driver whose data you’re scouring, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Go grab your stuff,” you tell him, nodding towards the doors he’d been headed to. “You have an early flight tomorrow.”

He blinks wildly. “We’re on the same flight.”

You nod, because you both know this quite well. There’d been a meeting this morning about who had to be where and at what times. You’re on the first flight out with the main team, headed to Singapore.

“I’m not the one who has to drive the car at very high speeds this weekend,” you remind him, pointing the eraser of your pencil at him. “Or the one who has to be in front of the cameras. You need your beauty sleep.”

Oscar laughs at that, a happy sound that makes you smile, too. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

You think about disappearing to the bathroom or the break room while he’s gone, just to avoid any further questions. You know Oscar relatively well, though, and knowing him, he’d just wait around until you came back. Or worse, come and try to find you. You can picture it- you pouring your third cup of coffee in the last hour, Oscar watching from the doorway with disdain. You stay put, sipping from your mug and scribbling notes.

He’s back within a few minutes, a backpack in hand. His keys dangle from his fingertips. You don’t look up from your laptop as he walks towards you, that is until he’s standing right in front of you. You blink up at him through your lashes. There’s a frown on his face- this close, you know your lack of sleep must be obvious.

He nudges the top panel of your laptop with a single fingertip. “C’mon. Time to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“What, you just gonna stay here until we all meet up in the morning to go to the airport?” He scoffs.

“That would be ridiculous,” you laugh.

“It would,” he agrees. He seems to see straight through you, though. “Come on. Close the laptop, close the notebooks. You can work on this on the flight, like a normal person.”

“I’m trying to improve your car, you know.”

“I’m not leaving until you do,” he finally says, and you scoff with wide eyes. “And remember, I’m the one who has to actually drive the car. And go in front of the cameras. I need my beauty sleep.”

You rear your head back, unsure how to even counter that. He takes the opportunity to close the laptop for you, and you bat at his hands. Then he’s sweeping your papers into piles, stacking your notebooks and gathering them up into his arms.

“That’s my intellectual property, you know,” you scold him, reaching for the papers. He holds them up above your head easily, and you groan. “Okay, okay, I’ll go, just- I lost my pen, earlier. It’s my favorite one. I just have find it and then I promise I’ll go- you can go home, really, I’ll see you-“

He’s reaching for your head, suddenly, and you freeze. When his hand returns to your view, he’d holding the pen between his fingertips. You blink once, twice, then reach for it, but he’s holding it above your head within seconds, too.

“We’re leaving,” he tells you, firmly. “Come on. Up we go.”

You get to your feet reluctantly and pack your things into your bag. Oscar helps, handing you your papers in neat little piles. He keeps you in front of him as you both exit the lobby, like he’s afraid you might take off running further into the office building. His car is still parked out front, still running, and you see him wince.

“Didn’t expect to be inside for so long,” he says sheepishly.

You laugh lightly, starting your walk towards the employee lot. It’s down a well lit path, but every step feels heavy this late at night.

“Wait,” he says, and you pause. “Do you want a ride? You seem tired. You know, sometimes that’s as bad as driving drunk.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep behind the wheel,” you tell him. You say it with confidence, because it’s pretty likely you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

He cocks his head at you, cast in the bright glow of the floodlights. “At least let me drive you to your car. Otherwise, how do I know you’re not going to just go back inside?”

You roll your eyes. “And how do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?”

You end up getting in the car, because he makes it pretty clear he’s not leaving until you do. You contemplate just walking to your own car, but honestly your feet feel so heavy it’s just not worth the fight. Oscar, to his credit, doesn’t kidnap you. He also doesn’t comment on your very modest car, the only one left in the parking lot. He does try to offer you a ride home one more time, but he lets it go after your repeat refusal.

You say goodbye, climb into your own car, and start the engine. The heat kicks on quickly, thank god, and you start up a playlist. It’s only when you look up, ready to leave, that you notice his car is still sitting there. You can just barely see Oscar behind the windshield, and he waves at you. He’s waiting for you to leave.

You flip him off as you roll out of the parking lot, and you watch him laugh in response.

…..

You’re one of the first ones at the office the next morning, and therefore one of the first ones on a shuttle to the airport. Oscar’s chronically late, or as he would call it, chronically precisely on time, so you don’t see him until he’s climbing on the plane. McLaren’s rented out a charter plane for this trip, with the double header making it the easiest solution.

You’re already settled into a seat, laptop open on the table in front of you, headphones on. You barely even look up when you feel him looking over you, but then he’s tugging one side of your headphones off your ear.

“Did you even sleep?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you lie, raising your brows at him defensively.

Oscar raises his brows in return. He obviously doesn’t believe you.

Before he can say anything else, Lando’s behind him, leaning up over his shoulder. “Oscar, mate, get a move on.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but does as Lando’s urging. There’s not assigned seats, per say, but the two drivers are headed towards the middle of the plane where their trainers and other senior staff are sitting. That’s how these things normally go- it just makes sense. They’ll have meetings on the plane, talk about meal plans and strategies and get ready for the weekend. You’ll spend your flight going through the data just one more time, trying to unlock all of the secrets to give Oscar the best possible chance on Sunday.

…..

Singapore is good. Not great, not perfect, but good. For Lando’s team, it’s a huge weekend. And honestly, 4th place for Oscar in his rookie year is huge too. He’s thrilled, tells you as much after the race, after the briefing.

“I know you worked hard this weekend, put in a lot of hours,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

“Right.” He says. “Thanks, though.”

You smile up at him, knowing it’s wobbly and insincere. You don’t take compliments well. “No problem.”

When you get to the hotel that night, you lay down in the bed and try to fall asleep. It’s no use, really, because it’s not your bed, and because your mind is racing. There’s nothing even bothering you, that’s the stupid thing. Just… a billion thoughts flying by all at once. So you wander the hotel, up and down the stairs, down the halls. You make a pit stop in the exercise room, walk on the treadmill, try out the rowing machine. You’ve never been one for working out, but the internet says exercise can help with sleep issues. It’s worth a try, but it doesn’t work.

You contemplate sneaking into the closed hotel pool, but ultimately decide against it. You’d probably get caught, and then you’d get in trouble, and it would somehow make it back to your boss. Then you’d get fired in Singapore, left to find your own way home. So instead, you head for the vending machines on your floor. There’s got to be something in there that’ll cure the racing in your head. Or at least bring you some comfort in the dead of night.

What doesn’t bring you comfort in the dead of night is a face in the reflection on the glass of the vending machine. You nearly scream when you meet someone else’s eyes. You whirl around, arms in a defensive position, and come face to face with Oscar.

“Would’ve pegged you for flight, not fight,” he says drowsily.

“You can’t sneak up on people like that,” you hiss, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Payback,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face clumsily. “B‘sides, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I was trying to get a snack.”

You blink at him. “Oscar, it’s 3am.”

He nods, blinks slowly. You almost expect his eyes to stay closed, almost expect him to fall asleep standing up.

“I woke up starving,” he says, shuffling towards one of the vending machines. “Promise you won’t tell Kim? I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. You want to tuck him into bed and tell him bedtime stories. You want to kiss his forehead. You blink hard, trying to reset your brain. The sleep deprivation is really getting to you. This is your coworker, your teammate.

You shrug and nod in agreement. “Would’ve kept the secret without the bribe, but if you’re offering…”

Oscar laughs, a quiet sound in the empty night air. “What’ll it be, then?”

He’s leaning against the glass heavily. He must still be half asleep. You can’t blame him. You point at the bag of chips you’d been eyeing, and then at the gummy worms in the corner. He nods in approval of both, selects them, feeds the machine his money. Then he’s picking his own snack- a poptart and a bag of Cheetos. He backs away, but you make a noise and point at the drinks machine.

“And a Red Bull?” You ask, pointing at your favorite flavor where it sits, lit up by fluorescent light.

He turns back, almost puts the money in, and then he pauses and looks at you. “It’s 3am.”

“Right, we established that.”

“Why would you drink Red Bull at 3am?” He asks, bewildered.

You shrug. “Because I like Red Bull.”

“Go work for them, then,” he suggests. You laugh. “Actually, I have a feeling that would be severely detrimental to your health. Too many free energy drinks. Do you ever sleep?”

“Those are big words for 3am,” you tease, nudging his shoulder. “Come on. The tangerine one, please.”

“I’m not buying you a Red Bull.” He shakes his head. “I am walking you back to your room and you’re going to bed.”

“I’ll tell Kim about your snacks.”

“No, you won’t.”

You let him walk you back to your room. He stands there as you swipe the key card, as you open the door and shuffle inside. He says goodnight from the doorway. You close the door after you echo the sentiment, lock all the locks, and lay down in your bed. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep. You really, truly try. But when the clock turns over to 4am, and you realize it’s useless, you roll out of bed and head down to the vending machine. You buy the Redbull with your own money, carry it back to your room, turn on the tv, and settle in until the sun comes up.

…..

Tokyo may just be your favorite city in the entire world. Everything is open all the time. You’ve never felt more seen by a city. The days that you and the rest of the team spend there between the two races are heaven. You have meetings during the day, but they’re short and easy. At night, there are plenty of places for you to roam, plenty of things to do and see.

You spend your nights in ramen bars, in arcades, in toy stores that seem to stretch on for miles. You collect so many souvenirs you’re worried you’ll have to buy a second suitcase. Frankly, you’re going on week two of sleeping only in one to two hour stints, and it’s likely you’re beginning to get a little manic. In Tokyo, though, nobody bats an eye.

You join the team for breakfast in the hotel lobby on Thursday. You’ve somehow ended up at a table with Oscar and Lando- you’d gotten here before anyone else, and Oscar had chosen the seat across from you. Lando asks what you’ve been up to. They’ve been busy with promo stuff, you’ve hardly seen the two of them all week.

You regale them with your stories and hand off your phone to Lando so he can scroll through your pictures. Oscar listens with rapt attention, leaning to look at the photos too.

“How do you do all this and find time to sleep?” Lando asks, an amused tone in his voice.

“She doesn’t, mate,” Oscar replies, pointing at your phone. “Look at the time stamps.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the phone away from them. Lando’s looking at you with wide eyes, Oscar is smiling amusedly.

“Sleep is for the weak,” you tell them, and you swear Lando’s eyes are going to bug out of his head. “We’re in Tokyo, I’m making the most of it.”

To Oscar’s credit, he doesn’t bring up the encounter at the MTC, or the run in at the vending machines. Still, this revelation seems to bewilder Lando.

“Sleep is like, the most important thing,” he says, shaking his head. “For your health.”

“Not all of us have to be in tip top shape,” you say, stabbing your fork into a waffle on your plate. “Some of us get to have fun. Exhibit B. Our breakfasts.”

Lando looks at your plate, filled with waffles and bacon and your cup of coffee, next to it. He casts his glance to his sad looking bowl of oatmeal, then, and sighs heavily. Oscar’s laughing at the two of you, though his plate looks just as sad.

“When you pass out halfway through the day,” Lando says, a retaliatory furrow in his brow, “I’m telling Andrea why.”

“That won’t happen,” you reassure him. “And besides, it’s media day. I have it easy.”

…..

Oscar makes it on the podium on Sunday. You scream your lungs out with the rest of the team, run to the pit wall, watch the podium celebrations. He’s wrapping everyone in enthusiastic hugs, slapping everyone’s backs and grinning so, so widely. All the lost sleep feels worth it, just to see him smile like that.

When he makes it to you, he hauls you into his chest, arms around your shoulders, holding you tight. You could stay like that forever, if he’d let you. He tucks his chin atop your head and you think you’d like to make a home right there, in his arms.

The celebrations go late, and so does the debrief. By the time it’s all said and done, everyone looks exhausted, including the drivers. They start shuttling you all back to the hotel for the night, back in Tokyo so you can get on the plane easily tomorrow morning. You’re just glad to be back in the city. On a night like tonight, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, there’s no way you’re falling asleep.

You somehow end up in a shuttle with Oscar. He smells like champagne and sweat, and you tease him about it when he sits down in the back row next to you.

He smiled sheepishly. “So I smell like a podium finisher, then.”

You watch as the city goes by out the window and listen to him chat idly with the others in the van. When you get back, you’re the last one out of the car. He’s waiting outside the hotel, leaning on the wall.

“So, what’s your plan for the night?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“No judgement?” You ask.

“No judgement,” he promises.

You shrug. “Not exactly sure. There’s a lot to do. I’ll probably get some ramen, maybe go shopping. Might just take a walk.”

He nods. “Sleep?”

“Not high on the priority list,” you admit.

He nods again. “Can I come with?”

You blank, staring at him. “What?”

“On your adventure,” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I come along?”

Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest. He wants to come with? Why? There’s a part of you that doesn’t like the idea, that thinks your sleepless adventures are for you and you alone. The other part of you, the one that wins out, thinks it might not be so bad to have some companionship.

“… sure,” you agree, eyeing him carefully. “But you have to play along. No forcing me to go to sleep.”

“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky.

You hook yours with his and seal the deal.

…..

You both head up to your hotel rooms to change clothes, and in Oscar’s case, to take a shower. He sends you a text when he’s ready and you meet him in the lobby. He’s in a casual outfit, jeans and a hoodie. You’re dressed similarly, in a pair of black jeans and a crewneck.

“Where to?” He asks, wide grin on his face.

It turns out that Oscar is the ideal late night adventure companion. You start your night out at a sushi conveyor restaurant, both of you joking about how Lando would never dare to eat there. You eat to your heart’s content and make comments about fueling up for the night ahead. He even joins you in having an energy drink, some Japanese brand that you’ve never heard of. Oscar reads part of the label to you, balks at the amount of caffeine in it, and drinks it anyways.

After the restaurant, the two of you climb into a cab and head to the Shibuya district. It’s crawling with people, buzzing with energy, and you feel right at home. Oscar sticks close to your side, hanging onto the back of your sweatshirt as you cross the busy crosswalks in a sea of people. When you turn, though, he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. The two of you climb the stairs to an observatory where you can watch the dance of pedestrians and traffic from above. There’s a glow to the city that feels akin to how your brain feels when you can’t sleep- like it never goes out, never turns off.

You tell this to Oscar, who gives you a contemplative look.

“Is it the energy drinks?” He asks. His hand is on your wrist, likely just to keep track of you in the crowds.

You shake your head. “The energy drinks came after the… not sleeping-“

“Insomnia,” he suggests.

“… not sleeping,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Anyways. I was like a zombie. The energy drinks make it so I’m functional. I figure if I’m gonna be awake, may as well enjoy it.”

You head back out onto the streets and begin to wander again. Oscar follows along, always holding onto you in some way, always smiling when you look at him. The two of you wander through art galleries and museums lit up with neon lights. Somewhere in the middle of one of them, he slips his fingers between yours. You’re not complaining. There’s something grounding, leveling about his presence.

You stop for drinks at a bar- some sort of local beer that Oscar orders for both of you in Japanese. It’s followed by a vodka Red Bull, at your insistence. Oscar wrinkles his nose but drinks the whole thing, seemingly determined to match you.

Next door, there’s a highly American themed bowling alley. Oscar laughs about how Logan would love it and pulls you inside. It’s the first stop of the night that he’s suggested, so you go along eagerly. He’s snapping pictures, ones to send to Logan, ones for himself, ones of you smiling, renting out bowling shoes. He pays for the game, and you both do terribly. The worker puts the bumper guards up out of pity, because the two of you obviously have no idea what you’re doing. He’s a world renowned athlete, you’re a highly skilled engineer, and yet, you both suck at bowling.

“When did the in-“ you fix him with a glare, and he stops mid sentence. “When did the not sleeping start?”

You look up at the ceiling of the bowling alley and purse your lips, watching the disco ball spin. “Next question.”

He huffs and shrugs, rolling the ball down the lane. “I don’t have a next question.”

“What’s your family like?”’you ask him, and he smiles, softer than you’ve ever seen him smile before.

“Well, I have three sisters,” he starts, eyes lighting up.

Somewhere between the bowling alley, the next bar, and the shopping mall you end up in, you start to really get to know Oscar. It’s funny how the night opens people up. Everything feels safer in the dark, surrounded by other people. It’s creeping up on 1am- in theory, both of you should be sound asleep. The fact that you’re not makes anything okay. You learn about his family, his childhood, his friends back home and in the UK. You tell him about yourself, too. He listens with an eager look on his face, laughing at all the right moments, squeezing your hand at the right ones, too.

You end up in a store that’s packed to the brim with stuffed animals. He lets you drag him around the whole thing, pointing out cute ones and the ones you think are a bit odd. Then you gasp, pointing excitedly, pulling on his hand.

“It’s you,” you squeak, the delirium beginning to set in. It’s a stuffed Kangaroo, and he groans softly. “Look, you’re even making the same face.”

Oscar seems unable to argue with that. Both he and the stuffed kangaroo do seem to be scowling. He smiles instead, picks it up, and takes it to the register. He buys it before you can really even say anything, and the cashier packages it in a bag. The kangaroo’s head sticks out over the paper, your second faithful companion for the night.

By 3am, Oscar is starting to drag. He perks up every time you look at him and smiles brightly, but you can tell. His grip on your hand is looser lately, and his blinks are growing longer and longer. You turn to him, a sympathetic smile on your face.

“We can go back to the hotel, if you want,” you say, poking his cheek lightly.

He smiles. “Are you tired?”

You sigh. “No, but you are.”

“I’m okay,” he insists, shaking his head. “What about the batting cages you mentioned? That sounded fun.”

You pout at him. “Oscar, you’re half asleep. You’d definitely get hit by a ball.”

He nods in agreement. “Maybe I just need another energy drink?”

You cock your head at him, take in his heavy eyelids, his parted lips. “That would be your third one of the night. And that would be very unhealthy.”

He nods again. “Yeah. Okay. Just… I said I’d be along for the ride.”

“We can hang out at the hotel,” you suggest. “The pool area is open all night.”

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

“Me neither.”

You somehow end up with a pizza on your way back, and the two of you plant yourselves in the pool area on one of the chaise lounge chairs, the pizza box in front of you. You eat the greasy, cheesy food, and even Oscar indulges in it. He has his hand planted on the chair behind your back. Every so often you lean backs against his arm just to feel his presence. His knee bumps against yours, and you smile.

The pool is clear and blue. Neither of you will be swimming, but this felt like a neutral enough place. You’d thought about inviting him back to your room but had felt weird about it. There’s something calming about the still water and the smell of the chlorine, anyways.

He leans his head on your shoulder. The heavy weight of him is nice. He’s solid, sturdy, grounding. You’re chatting idly about something that happened at the race, something he’d missed while he was driving the car. You break off in the middle of a sentence to yawn, and then you close your eyes for just a moment. Oscar’s breath hitches.

The two of you are silent for a moment. You stare into the clear water, aching to drift and float and fall asleep. You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest.

“It started when I was a kid,” you tell him. “I just… stopped sleeping. It comes and goes in cycles. Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I just…”

“Can’t sleep,” Oscar finishes for you, his words contradicting the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, blinking slowly again.

Your head droops, resting against his. He’s so warm, so comforting. He must feel you drifting, must feel your grip faltering, because then he’s sitting up, tucking you into his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, drowsily.

“M’so tired,” you admit, curling into him. “Justwannasleep.”

Tears are stinging at your eyes. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t been prepared for this part. The moment when your lack of sleep catches up to you, and you become an emotional, distraught mess. You’re seconds away from full on sobbing.

Oscar seems to sense this. “Okay. Okay, how about- I have a pull out couch in my suite. Why don’t you- if you’re comfortable, you could come sleep there. Maybe it would help to know somebody’s there if you need it? Maybe-“

“Okay,” you answer, nodding against his chest. “Okay, yeah.”

He takes care of the empty pizza box and guides you up to his room. You know there’ll be questions to answer if anyone sees you, but you’re comforted by the fact that it’s 4am and nearly every sane person is sound asleep. He scans into the room, and you let out a sigh when he lets go of your hand. He moves quickly, unfolding the pull out couch, grabbing extra blankets from the cabinets. Before you know it, you’re sitting down on the bed, rubbing your eyes.

It’s strange, now that you’re here. You’re in Oscar’s hotel room. You’ve just spent the night wandering Tokyo with him. You’re exhausted, sleep deprived, still on the verge of tears. Everything feels hazy and blurry.

“I can… go, if you want,” he says, and you blink up at him through your blurry vision. “Or I can sit with you till you fall asleep.”

“That might take a while,” you tell him. “Like, you’re more likely to fall asleep. Even… when I finally get to this point, it takes a while.”

He shrugs. “We could put on a movie.”

That’s exactly what you do. He turns on the tv, spots Finding Nemo on the guide, and turns it on. He sinks down on the bed, leaning against the couch back. You crawl up next to him as he turns the volume low. At first, you just sit shoulder to shoulder. Then he reaches out, wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his side. You sigh against him. Cradled close, you let the exhausted tears flow. He can’t see you, probably, and even if he can, you can’t bring yourself to care. He leans down, brushes his lips against your forehead.

“M’right here,” he says, softly. “I’ve got you.”

You wake up at 8am with your head in his lap. His alarm is blaring from the side table, and you’re both springing apart. He fumbles for his phone, shutting the alarm off with the shaky hands of someone who’s just been woken up from not nearly enough sleep.

You, on the other hand, have gotten the most consecutive sleep of your last two weeks. You stretch, rubbing the blur from your eyes and blinking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?” He asks, voice steady.

“For… I don’t know. Keeping you up so late? Falling asleep on you?” You shrug. “I… that was a lot, for me to put that all on you.”

Oscar shrugs, so nonchalant about it. “It’s what friends are for.”

You nod, though you’re not convinced. You pull away, and Oscar’s soft smile drops to a flat frown. He reaches for you, but you dodge his touch.

“I should go,” you tell him. “We have to leave soon, people are going to be getting up and- if they see me come out of your room-“

“We can be friends,” he says, again, brows furrowing. “We didn’t do anything wrong, everything is okay-“

He doesn’t understand. It’s fine for him, but this is too much for you. He wants to be friends, but you’re looking at him and thinking about how if you could curl up on his chest every night, you might never have trouble sleeping again. He wants friends, you want more. You can’t have more, though, because there’s no way you’ll keep your job. And he doesn’t want that, anyways. Why would he? You’re just his pity project, the poor girl who can’t sleep, who fails at counting sheep.

“I should go,” you repeat, standing up. You can’t look at him, can’t watch him watching you. “Thank you. For everything. I’m sorry.”

He stands up too, and he grabs your hand. You pause, stuck between ripping your hand from his and running, or whirling around and snapping at him. Fight or flight. Instead, you take a deep breath. You’re still sleep deprived, still exhausted. 4 hours doesn’t fix two weeks of little to no sleep.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, shoulders sagging. “I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says. “Just- come sit down? Let’s talk, okay?”

You sink down on the bed, rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “Why do you care?”

Oscar sits down next to you. He reaches out, knits your fingers together. You’re reminded of the art galleries, of the crowds, of the bowling alley. You split yourself open last night, in the safety of the time when you should’ve been sleeping. He saw you and he’s still here, somehow, hanging on. Your bones are tired. Your head is pounding. You need caffeine.

“I care,” he says, gently, “because I care about you. Because I think you’re a good person, and I want to get to know you better. And because this whole thing is not healthy.”

You sigh. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand methodically, back and forth. The funny thing is, you could fall asleep again, just like this. You could lean into his shoulder, let the warmth of him seep into your skin, and fall asleep. You wonder if he knows it.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, rubbing at your face sleepily. “Osc, I’ve been like this for years. It’s not just going to change now.”

“Not overnight,” he says, softly. There’s a callous on his thumb, you can feel the scrape of it over your skin. It’s oddly soothing. “But I can try. I can be here.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because despite all the craziness, last night was the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” he says, and you could cry. “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. Take you on dates. The whole nine yards.”

You should’ve expected this. Oscar can be shy, and quiet, but he can be straightforward, too. He’s pretty easy to read. He’s blunt with Lando, almost to the point of contention sometimes. But you’d been so focused on trying to prove to him that you were just fine that you hadn’t considered he was feeling the sparks, too. That maybe he wasn’t holding onto you in the crowd just so he didn’t lose you. That maybe he liked the feeling of your skin on his, too.

“If you want that,” he says, voice low.

You blink blearily, pull away to look up at him. “I do.”

He nods, leans forward, kisses your forehead. The rest of it will come later, you think. You can work all the details out when you’re both more awake. Right now, he pulls you into his chest and flops back onto the bed.

“We have an hour before anyone comes looking for us,” he says, rubbing your back lightly. “Close your eyes? You don’t have to sleep, just-“

You blink once, twice, and then you’re fast asleep before he can get another word out.

…..

Oscar wins the sprint race in Qatar, and then takes second on Sunday. He’s nothing but endless wide grins all weekend, despite the heat and the dehydration and his obvious exhaustion. You laugh when you watch him lay down on the floor in the cool down room and smile when he gets sprayed with champagne on the podium. He chases you through the garage afterwards to give you a hug, despite your screeching about how sticky he is.

He tucks you into his chest. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby.”

Later, you help corral a very tired Oscar and Lando to the shuttles and back to the hotel. They’re each stumbling over their own feet, giggling and laughing about the race, shoving at each other’s shoulders. For a minute, you’re walking through an empty parking lot, far from any other McLaren staff, and Oscar links his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His fingers are sticky with champagne, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Lando sees and doesn’t say anything, just smiles.

You’re keeping it quiet for now. Time to figure it out between the two of you before you get your bosses involved. You have a feeling it’ll be mostly okay. You’ll figure it out, one way or another.

You follow Oscar up to his hotel room, saying goodnight to Lando as he heads further down the hall. He knits his fingers with yours again, leads you into his room, and collapses onto the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you?”

You smile down at him, laid out on the bed. He should probably shower, at the very least change his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that.

You sigh. “I mean, yeah, but if you’re asking if I’ll be able to sleep… probably not.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “D’you think… would you just… stay, until I fall asleep?” He asks, blinking up at you. “After that you can take my card and get a Red Bull and go do whatever, just-“

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you tell him.

It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He gets ready for bed, and you do the same. You lean against the headboard and he crawls up the bed. He puts his head on a pillow in your lap, curls up into a little c shape. He’s very cat like, you’ve noticed, especially when he’s sleepy. You run your fingers through his hair, the tv playing quietly in the background, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He’s out within minutes. Oscar is a sound sleeper. You could move him, could shift his head and get up. You could wander the halls, take his card and buy all the energy drinks you desire. But you look down at him, his brow unfurrowed, lips parted, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You could sit here and watch him breathe all night. It’s a terrifying and comforting thought, all at once.

You don’t sleep. It’s likely you’ll crash on the flight home, or maybe shortly after that. With your luck, you’ll pass out in a meeting when you get back to the MTC. Oscar doesn’t scold you when he wakes up and it’s obvious you’ve been awake all night.

He gets you coffee from the breakfast bar, exactly how you like it. And when he finds you in the backseat of the airport shuttle, he hands you a tangerine Red Bull. It’s early, the sun just peeking up over the horizon, washing the whole city with orange. He’s smiling at you, and you’re smiling right back.

When you fall asleep on his shoulder on the way to the airport, nobody dares to say a word.

…..

“Did you hear we’re gonna be sponsored by Monster next year?” Lando asks, throwing a tennis ball at a wall in the courtyard.

You sit up in the grass nearby, eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. Free Monster?”

Oscar, whose stomach you’d been laying on, sits up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Your consumption will be restricted,” he says, and you laugh.

You suppose that’s fair. Besides, Monster is fine, but nothing will ever top tangerine Red Bull.

check out the companion blurb, Glad You’re Here

thanks for reading, hope you sleep better than me! you can find my other fics here! sweet dreams y’all

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #formula 1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #f1 fanfic #Oscar piastri oneshot #pls be gentle I am tired #honeywrites #op81 #Oscar piastri #tangerine!verse

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littledata · 13 days

Text

@princington's amazing art brought me back to this fic so have a little extra for them.

There are many, many terrible things about dating Beatrice.

For example: she manages to wake up at six AM every single morning to go jogging and comes home looking sweaty and sexy while Ava is still dealing with bedhead. She's also organised to the point of insanity and remembers every important date, even the ones Ava didn't realise she knew (like the date she opened the coffee shop. They hadn't even met for fuck's sake), and manages to swoop in with a thoughtful gift or kind word to mark the occasion. Meanwhile, Ava is still scribbling DON'T FORGET DENTIST - TUESDAY?? on the back of her hand like a high schooler.

And if all of that wasn't horrible enough, even after almost a year of dating, Beatrice can still roll up the cuffs of her sleeves or adjust her glasses or recite some complicated piece of research, and Ava winds up hopelessly turned on in public on the regular.

It sucks, actually. Ava's life is awful.

None of that is the worst part of it though. The worst part of dating Beatrice, who is sexy and thoughtful and intelligent, is that she's fucking impossible to buy gifts for.

Beatrice doesn't actually want anything is half the problem. She reads a lot of books but she mostly checks them out from the university library. She drinks a lot of tea, but Ava runs a coffee shop. If her girlfriend wants tea, she has a store room full of it. Other than that, she mostly likes crosswords, the gym, her friends, and… well. Ava.

It's making planning for the first birthday Beatrice has had since they've been together exceptionally stressful. Particularly since Ava knows for a fact that Beatrice's parents believed in a "socks and school supplies" style of gift giving which, as far as she's concerned, barely even count.

"What are you getting Bea for her birthday?" she whispers conspiriatorially to Camila one Saturday afternoon in Mary and Shannon's back yard. Beatrice herself is bouncing the baby on her knee and debating some obscure scientific hypothesis - something about mold. Ava is surprised to find she actually has an opinion on the topic. Probably all those mold documentaries.

Camila snorts, "Have you just figured out she's impossible to buy for?"

"Yes," Ava stresses, "C'mon, what are you getting her? And if it's really good I'm stealing your idea."

"Oh no." Camila shakes her head, "It took me all year to think of something. You're on your own."

"Cam." Ava tries her best pleading, puppy dog eyes. They don't work nearly as well on Camila as they do on Beatrice.

"Ava." Camila pats her hand comiseratingly, "Just get her what every self-respecting lesbian wants for their birthday."

Ava frowns, "Power tools?"

Camila smirks, "Strap-on and lingerie."

So that conversation was entirely useless - mostly because Ava already owns more than enough of both those things and they sort of seem like a gift for both of them more than just Beatrice. And more than anything else, Ava wants her girlfriend to feel special. Like she's worth something great that's for her and only her.

Shannon is her next port of call. Ava corners her in the kitchen where she's refilling drinks and, probably pre-warned by Camila, looks entirely unsurprised to be accosted.

"We normally order some of the gross British candy she likes," Shannon informs her. "And before you even try it - she knows that's what we get her every year, so don't try and steal the idea."

Ava groans despondently, "I'm hitting a wall here. What the fuck do you buy for someone who doesn't actually want anything?"

Beatrice does always say that her best friend is unreasonably logical and practical in her advice. For the first time, Ava understands her plight when Shannon shrugs and says, "Have you tried asking her?"

With nothing else to do, Ava tries. Admittedly, she probably picks a bad time to do it: she's shirtless and sitting cross-legged on their bed while Beatrice massages lotion into the new tattoo on her shoulder. Bea's fingers are gentle and thorough and very, extremely distracting.

"Hey," Ava says a little breathlessly, her eyes closed, "What do you want for your birthday?"

Beatrice, because she is Beatrice, says, "You don't have to get me anything."

Typical. This is why dating her is so difficult. "Obviously I do," Ava points out. "For my birthday you took me to a theme park even though it's your idea of actual, literal hell." Bea had even bought and worn a t-shirt that said "I RODE THE BIG ONE". Camila has the photograph framed in her office.

"Not actual, literal hell," Beatrice argues, "I enjoyed that you had fun."

"There's really nothing you want?" Ava asks.

Disappointingly, Beatrice's fingers stop their movement and she puts a cap on the lotion, moving off the bed behind Ava. "Is this what you were whispering with Camila and Shannon about earlier?"

"Maybe. They weren't helpful."

Beatrice's smile is affectionate, "They never are." She leans in to kiss her, her hand landing on Ava's bare shoulder and skirting over her neck, "I'd like to spend my birthday with you. That's all."

Ava wraps her arms aroud her shoulders and sighs, "Dating you is the worst."

"Mm, awful," Beatrice agrees, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her jaw. "Shall we break up?"

"Yep." Ava turns her head to press their lips together again and uses her distraction to lie back, pulling Beatrice down on top of her. "We're over."

(On her birthday, they drink tea in bed and do a crossword puzzle with Ava's head on Beatrice's shoulder. Later, they wander through a museum eating wine gums and holding hands. At Shannon and Mary's place, Beatrice unwraps the cordless drill that Ava bought for her.

"Thank you," she says, "It's just what I wanted.")

(Ava saves the strap-on and lingerie for later.)

#warrior nun #avatrice #extra writing

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julesthequirky · 2 months

Text

The Choice: Chapter Nine

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, angst, dashed dreams, mental breakdown.

W/C: 1,617

Everything hurt. Your throat felt tight and sore. Your head pounded, and your eyes felt gummy from all your tears. Your knees ached, and your soul felt irreparable. God knows how long you’d been here for. It felt like a century.

“Sh, sh, shhh.”

There was that low, soothing voice again.

Your fingers felt stiff as they clutched the jacket of the person it belonged to. Your tears had soaked into their shirt, leaving a wet patch. They were warm, whoever they were, with a steady heartbeat, which helped to calm you. And they smelt nice. Musky aftershave…

Hands pushed at your shoulders, pulling you back. You didn’t want to leave the safety or the comfort of whoever’s arms you were in. The busy hum and the bright lights of the mall came rushing back. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you were anywhere but here.

Warm, dry hands cupped your face, thumbs stroking over your hot, gummy eyes, catching any lingering tears caught on your lashes.

“C’mon, darlin’.”

You expected a Southern drawl but got Dean’s deep-timbred, Mid-Kansas accent instead.

“It’s safe. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you. Not on my watch.”

Shame filled you, remembering the event that transpired and what you must’ve looked like to everyone in Walmart. You couldn’t.

“Hey, hey. Look at me. Look at me.”

Your eyes open, and Dean’s green eyes filled your vision. Magnetised, you focused on the flecks of colour, the hue changes and just how emerald they looked in the brightness.

“Where’s Ben?”

You’d left him alone in the middle of the store with Mark and the girlfriend.

Dean’s lips turned into somewhat of a smirk.

“Well, after you ran out, he tore right into the guy. Beau had to pull him away before he could land a punch. They’re both still inside the store, waiting for you. I suppose he’s not such a bad guy after all.”

Oh.

“We can go right home, put all this right behind us. I won’t pry. Hell, I don’t blame you if you never wanna talk about it ever again, but if you do want an ear, I’m here.”

Thanks to Dean, the intensity you’d felt a moment ago had calmed. The tightness in your chest and throat receded, your breath steadied, and the thoughts in your head cleared. You flung your arms back around him, breathing in his manly musky scent that was so distinctively his.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“No…I’m okay. Thanks, D.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

Your knees were aching on the hard mall floor. Dean pulled back and helped you up. You turned to the store and took a deep breath. Beau and Ben were inside, waiting. They would understand if you decided to abandon the shopping trip. But in all honesty, you weren’t a quitter. At least not in trivial matters.

You brushed yourself down and wiped your eyes. They still felt a little gummy but were quickly returning to normal.

You just hoped that Mark and his girlfriend weren’t still inside.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head. “No, I want to.”

You took steady steps towards Walmart. Your cart and shopping were still in there, probably being looked after by Ben and Beau. You wondered how Ben was getting on. How angry he must‘ve been flashed through your mind. Angry enough to have a punch-up in public.

The hand on your lower back had your shoulders and back easing. It reminded you that you weren’t alone. Dean had your back. Literally. His touch felt natural like it belonged, but there was no way in Hell you were telling him that. You’d look crazy.

You returned to your cart, manned by Beau and Ben. Your ex-husband was nowhere in sight, and relief ran through you.

“Darlin’,” Beau hugged you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, almost setting you off again. “He never deserved you. He’s an asshole.”

Beau’s Southern drawl comforted you to no end.

He let you go, and you gripped the bar of the cart. So much was added. All that was missing were groceries. You steered the cart away from the clothing section. Walking in a daze, you grabbed items from the list in your pocket, whipping around the store. Ben added a crate of beer and the whiskey he had been drinking from.

You paid for the items, not bothering to bag them until you reached your cart. You opened the trunk. The guys helped you put it away, and you soon found yourself in the driving seat, staring into space, with Ben beside you.

The image of your ex’s new girlfriend’s pregnant round belly occupied your mind.

Ben poked you.

“You gonna drive?”

“Right.” You murmured.

You couldn’t remember the drive home or how the groceries made it inside. Somehow, you ended up in the room where Dean was sleeping, pulling open a drawer and taking out the set of baby booties from within.

The dream you so long wished for was now being taken over by someone else. Sitting on the bed, you let your heart break all over again.

A loud crack pulled you out of it, then a yell of rage. Sitting up, you placed the baby booties on the mattress and slowly headed down. Dean and Beau were surrounding the kitchen. From further in, you heard grunting, huffing and panting.

“I am NOT the one to blame!!”

Beau and Dean looked at each other. You stepped closer. You saw Ben’s eye lock on you from the space between Beau and Dean. Your heart leapt to your throat, and he was barrelling through both of them in a matter of seconds just to get to you.

“You!” He roared.

He was dirty and unkempt. His undershirt had stains on, as did the grey sweats he wore. He had great big bags under his eyes, and looked absolutely feral.

He grabbed your arm, gripping it tightly. Your eyes widened in shock, unable to free yourself.

“This fuck up is on you! I’m sick of taking the fucking blame for your fuck ups!”

You could barely take it in. Your brain was on the go-slow still.

“I didn’t—”

“No, but they sure have.” He pointed to Dean and Beau.

Ben was angry and bitter and had been for a while. He stormed past you and up the stairs. You followed, scrambling up after him.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m doing what they’re too fucking pussy to do.”

He headed into the room you’ve been sleeping in, Dean’s room. Your heart leapt to your throat again, and your pulse spiked as panic shot down your system. Not the baby clothes.

The door barged open, slamming into the wall and splintering. You ran in after him, gripping the back of his vest, desperately trying to pull him back. He shoved you off like he was swatting a fly, and you landed on your ass with a thud.

He picked up the booties on the bed, keeping them in his fist. He turned to you.

“Where are the rest!”

You shook your head.

“I’m gonna start tearing out each fucking drawer until I find them.” It wasn’t a warning. It was a promise.

When you didn’t answer, he yanked the first drawer out of the chest, throwing it on the bed when it didn’t have what he was looking for.

“No!!”

You scrambled up.

“Please!” Your desperate, futile beg went over his head.

You needed him to turn and walk away like your life depended on it.

“I won’t ask again. Where are they, Y/N?”

You shook your head, pleading, tears streaming down your eyes, still trying to pull him away, feet slipping on the carpet. But he was superhuman. Your strength was nothing compared to his.

He couldn’t really be doing this.

The emotion in your chest expanded as he yanked open another drawer, ripping it from its hinges and chucking it on the bed when it wasn’t the right one.

The gaping wound seemed only to worsen.

“Stop!!” You screamed, raining your fists down his back. He ignored you and opened the third drawer.

The wound gaped further. Your heart lurched when his hand reached out. You leapt up, straddling his back and covering his eyes. He yanked you off, pushing you back against the bed. You grunted as pain sliced all the way up your back.

“Please, Ben.”

You didn’t understand why he would do this.

He turned to you, fists full of the tiny garments. “Your problem, Y/N, is you don’t believe in yourself. These clothes fulfil nothing. They don’t mean shit! Wake the fuck up and stop holding on to shit that’s meaningless.”

His words shredded your heart.

“They mean everything!”

He shot you daggers.

“Bullshit!”

Spittle flew off and landed on your forehead. You grimaced as you wiped it off and scrambled to get up as he turned away.

“No!! Please! No!”

No amount of begging or pleading would work. They all fell on deaf ears. He gripped the doorknob and swung it shut behind him, leaving you screaming and crying. You tried the handle; it rattled, but the door remained. He was on the other side keeping you from the clothes.

Your fists bashed on the splintering wood, and your throat burned from begging, pleading and sobbing, your energy fast draining. Anger spiked your system, and you kicked at the door. When that didn’t work, you gathered the remnants of your energy and threw it at him.

“I hate you!!”

Silence.

You slumped against the door, eyes hot and gummy, stinging with fresh tears.

Of course, you didn’t hate him. It would have made everything so much easier if you did.

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan, @afro-hispwriter, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @ladysparkles78, @nescavaneck, @winharry, @stellasfictionalworld

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harrysmimi · 10 months

Text

Boo-Boo Away

Synopsis: One where Harry's left alone with two kinds under two as his wife rests on a sick day

Dadrry Fic

More of my work

Harry loves his family.

Without help he was loosing his mind. All of his family is sick from flu. It really started from him, then his wife got sick one of the the kid is breastfeeding.

Bea, the twenty month old and Maeve the two month old were grumpy and moody since last night. Both the parents stayed up to tend to their kids. But YN got even more sick this morning, and she was advised to take rest by her doctor.

Been given birth just two months ago via C-section has already taken a huge toll on her. So, Harry took it upon himself to make YN take a nap and the littlest was all fed and bundled up and fast asleep as well.

Maeve was being difficult to put to sleep, it took him all of a hour and half just rocking her to sleep but it was worth it the moment she fell asleep and he put her next to her Mumma on her bed. She seems to be a little too young to be sick but she's doing the best out of three of the ladies.

Bea could walk, sprint even, so she followed her dad around the house with her blankie dragging behind her as he did the chores. He'd warned the little girl that she could trip and fall with her blankie dragging behind her.

"Princess you will trip like that." He tried to have her hold her blankie in a way she wouldn't fall, bundled up in her arm. But she threw a tantrum. She was adamant to drag it around with her. "Okay, okay, you can have it as your wish." He surrendered.

He placed all of Maeve's clean laundry in the basket as he ran another batch of both the girls clothes. He took the basket out To the kids' room. None of them slept in there, they both liked to sleep in their parents bed. Maeve especially, she is already bonded with her Mummy where as Bea always wants Papa with her.

"Papa." Bea called for him, showing him a toy she's been obsessed with lately. It was a yellow Lego building block. She showed him asking him to go play with her with the building blocks.

"That's so cool, baby." Harry engaged in little conversations with her. She went back out to the living room. "You're still obsessed with that one?"

"Mhmm." She nodded.

Both YN and Harry have been used to help by their Doula, who helped them both everything as YN healed from giving birth and the parents focused on bonding with their new baby. It was the same when Bea was born. But now that they're both on their own, the chores have become more challenging.

Especially for Harry today. He had to place each of his steps carefully, not wanting to kick his toddler like a football on accident.

As Harry placed the basket of clean laundry in the kids' room he walked out to a living room scattered with toys. They weren't just just limited to the play area but everywhere in the living room.

Harry wanted to cry.

But he left it at that, he doesn't want Bea to cry, and wake up her Mummy and little sister by that. He'd let be on her own until he's done with the dishes.

The little green eyed girl walked upto him again to show him a scribbly drawing of hers. Harry gave her some encouraging words as she walked back out.

She was still dragging that blankie around the house.

It wasn't until he heard a thud and a loud cry that sent him running outside. Bea had fallen down the two little steps which separated their kitchen and living room. She never missed those, it was definitely that dang blankie. Her cried were loud enough to have her sleepy Mummy get out to see her.

"What happened?" YN came running out too, her tired eyes just daring to shut closed again.

"Hey baby," Harry cooed as both the parents gathered around the toddler. "Did you get hurt?"

"Yes." She nodded as she cried, "here." She pointed at her knee which was obviously red.

"Can you move you leg for me?" YN asked and the girl did, "good baby. And again?"

"Hurt." She sniffled. "Hurt."

"I know baby, but we have to move your leg a little so it won't hurt as much." Harry assured her and made her bend her knee a couple of time carefully but apparently it still hurt.

"Boo-Boo away." She leaned onto her Mummy who was closer to her as her dad inspected her knee, "Boo-Boo away!"

"It's alright, see," Harry placed a delicate kiss on her joint and looked at his wife. "Kiss Boo-Boo away, Mummy." And her mummy did too.

"Why don't we go take a nap? With May-may too." YN suggested, "your Boo-Boo will go away after."

She usually just moves on, but given the toddler is sick her tiny body must already be aching already to add to her injury. Harry picked her up like a little doll she is and walked them to the master bedroom.

It was also when Maeve started to wake up all fussy too. It was hour past her feeding time, Harry didn't even realise that. But YN picked her up immediately and brought her to the bed. She lied down the baby as it was the most comfortable position to feed her. Harry placed Bea on the other side.

"May-may no!" Bea cooed as she gently stroked her sister's head. "Mumma, May-may hurt?"

"No, baby she's just hungry." YN explained, "why don't you just lay down, hmm? Cuddle with May-may and Mummy."

Bea lied down on her dad's side of the bed immediately. Making him jealous just as fast. He could use a nap too, he's been up all night and hasn't slept for even a blink. Since yesterday morning.

"Hey, you wanna join us?" YN asked as he was making his way around their bed to go out and finish up all the chores.

"I've got dishes to wash," he shared.

"We can do that later, take a nap with us." YN pressed so he can take some rest too. And he's just recovered from a flu. "Come on!"

"Okay, okay." He walked back to his side and lied on his side.

It was bit crowded with two babies, but it's cosy. Maeve sleeps in the cot kept in her parents room because she's just too small to be on her own. And her older sister likes to sleep right in between her parents on their bed. It is warm and cosy and safe feeling. But when she's in mood she'll demand to sleep in the nursery, in her own bed. And there also another crib in the parents room where Harry would eventually move Bea too. Especially when she's kicking her dad in stomach and face there.

Bea scooted closer to her dad, using his bicep as her pillow she buried herself in his chest for cuddles. It was quiet. Bea asleep and Maeve still having her milk.

The littlest one was drifting in and out of her sleep there, it was so adorable as she smiled and tiniest dimples popped up on her chubby and fluffy cheeks. And she go right to sucking onto her mum's boob until she was breathless. A hungry, hungry little human she is.

"She's running a marathon." Harry whispered and chuckled softly. He doesn't want Bea to wake up. He moved her to the crib carefully.

Only so her fever doesn't go up with her warming up too much. And they can't turn up the AC too much as all of the girls have cold too. He picked up the baby when she was done eating too, and burped her before she was back in her cot too. He sighed seeing how peaceful both of their babies were sleeping. Finally getting the rest they need.

"Now come here, will you?" Now his wife was demanding his attention. And he obliged. He pulled in closer to his chest there.

"You know I love our babies, but I miss our time alone." He shared.

"Awh!" YN cooed, "we can have alone time after they've recovered from flu."

"Mhmm." He sounded tiredly, "hate to see them that way. Bea has been to grumpy since last night."

"Give her a break, she's still a baby." YN chuckled.

"I know, I know." He nodded, "I'm just jealous they get all your time now."

"They get all your time too!"

"Well..." He laughed, "touché."

"Yeah!" YN got all defensive.

"Once you're all recovered, we're gonna it a good few days, the kiddos can go live with my mum for the weekend and we can go to our villa." He layed a rough plan knowing well it could go wrong anyday, anytime.

"You know both of them haven't been to our home in Italy yet?" YN reminded him.

"Need to get their passports sorted then we can take them there for Christmas, yeah?" He suggested, "till then you and I can have some us time there."

"Yeah we can." She smiled. "I love you."

"And I love you more." He placed a kiss on her forehead.

......................................................................

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its-time-to-write · 10 months

Note

i honestly would love to see more of jamie with bea like him deciding to take her to see the team for the first time after she’s born because maybe him and reader wanted some time for themselves and get adjusted before having everyone meet her?

My whole family is out today and I have nothing to do, so I’m going to be answering some requests! And maybe opening up my inbox again

I’m a sucker for requests that ask for continuations of my other fics. Thanks for requesting!

lyrical smile, indigo eyes

How did you become lucky enough to have a baby like this with the absolute love of your life? You were pretty sure that you and Jamie had peaked at marriage, but Beatrice Georgie Tartt just takes the cake. You are exhausted because labor was intense, and Jamie swears if you gripped his hand any tighter you would have shattered it. But you didn’t, and you’re out of the hospital and back at home. Bea is a week and a half old, and there are only four people who have met her, outside of the hospital staff: Georgie, Simon, Roy, and Keeley. Jamie didn’t want you to be overwhelmed by a lot of visitors right after you had Bea, so he asked a favor from Ted, who promised to keep AFC Richmond so busy that they wouldn’t have time to drop in unannounced.

But now Jamie’s getting ready to go back to training, and he wants to take Bea with him before it starts.

“I can take her this Friday, Isaac’s been texting me all week and Coach said he’d end training early,” he says from his place on the living room floor, folding onesie after onesie.

You roll your eyes from the couch with Bea in your arms, half-asleep in the middle of her feeding.

“You sure you’re up to it, babe? She goes through diapers like crazy. You’re gonna have to bring a brand new pack if you even want to stand half a chance.”

Jamie just grins. “No problem babe, I’m a pro. Ain’t in the Premier League for nothing.”

“Alright,” you say, “I’m coming too, but only to go have girl time with Rebecca and Keeley. Becca says she has some like spa-day stuff for me. Apparently she did all the research into postpartum care.”

Jamie makes a hm, interesting face and Bea lets out a gurgle and wakes herself up.

—

You roll up to Nelson Road at 1pm, diaper bag packed with everything you could possibly need. This is your first time out of the house with Bea, and both you and Jamie are nervous. He’s trying to make you laugh with dumb jokes but your eyebrows are tightly knit together.

Bea is incredibly tiny, and the Richmond boys are… well, they’re not. You know they can be gentle, but you also know they are capable of getting overexcited way too easily. You nervously fiddle with the toy hanging from Bea’s carseat so Jamie looks at you in the rearview mirror and says, “Babe, relax, it’ll be fine, yeah? They don’t have to hold her or anything, and I’ll make sure she’s alright.”

That calms you down a little. You know Jamie means it. He’ll watch Bea like a hawk, and isn’t afraid to be a prick when it comes to taking care of the people he loves. You take a breath and nod as he pulls into a parking space.

—

The team is on the pitch, so you and Jamie walk out to meet Ted, Roy, and Beard. The boy see you walk up and immediately stop their drills, but Roy shouts “Oi! You lot still have got thirty fucking minutes! Keep fucking going!” So they go back to whatever the heck they’re doing.

Ted says, “Look at this cute little tartlet! Ain’t she just the sweetest thing?” and you can tell by Beard’s reaction that Ted’s been waiting to use that one for a while.

“I washed and sanitized my hands three minutes ago,” says Roy, “can I hold her?”

That is a little bit surprising. You would have assumed Ted would be the first one to ask, but you suppose he’s Phoebe’s favorite “Uncle Roy,” a reason, so you hand her over with a kiss on her forehead. You kiss Jamie and say, “Bye babe, I’m headed to see Keels and Becca,” then turn on your heel to Rebecca’s office. You’re headed inside when you throw one last glance at Bea, and almost burst out laughing; Jamie’s helping Roy put on the wrap so he can wear Bea while yelling at the team. You look out the window once you make it to the second floor of Nelson Road and see Roy coaching with Bea snugly secured to his chest and Jamie hovering close by. You’re glad today’s drills don’t seem to involve any footballs.

You tap on Rebecca’s door then push it open, and are immediately almost knocked over by Keeley, who has launched herself at you.

“HI BABE, HOW-FUCKING-ARE YOU?” she squeals, and you wonder if she’s so loud because she was containing herself when she met Bea. You grin and squeeze her back.

“I am so fucking tired and so fucking happy,” you reply. “Hi Bec!!”

Rebecca gets up off the couch and gives you a tight hug as best she can, because Keeley is still holding you.

“It is so wonderful to see you, darling,” she says, “I saw Roy has the baby out on the pitch. She’s going to be kicking a football before she knows how to walk properly.”

You laugh and Keeley says, “Oi, Roy’s got her? Good luck getting her back. If she’s anything like Phoebe she’ll throw a right fit when it’s time to go.”

“I know,” you sigh, “She’s going to have so many aunts and uncles, it’s insane. Not sure where Jaim and I are going to fall on her ranking of favorite people.”

Rebecca smiles and moves to the couch. “Would you like to sit and have some tea? I read there are certain types that help with breastfeeding.”

You grimace. “I would, except sitting is not exactly my favorite right now. But tea sounds wonderful.”

“You can lay down on your stomach, babe,” Keeley says helpfully. “Rebecca and can cuddle and catch you up on everything you’ve missed.”

You say, “That sounds fucking amazing,” and you’re asleep ten minutes into their chattering.

—

You startle awake to the sound of a knock on the door. Rebecca calls, “Come in,” and it takes you a moment to figure out where you are. There’s a blanket draped over you and Rebecca and Keeley are still on the other side of the couch, both furiously typing and scrolling on their laptops.

You rasp, “How long was I out?” as Roy pokes his head in the door. He’s still wearing Bea.

“Twenty minutes,” Rebecca answers. “Keeley and I thought it best to leave you be.” Keeley nods, not looking up from her screen.

Roy clears his throat. “Hi babe!” says Keeley. She half glances up from her screen then does a double take.

“Holy fuck, you look right sexy like that, Kent.”

Roy grins at her. “Don’t get any fucking ideas.”

Keeley says, “Too late. I have so many fucking ideas,” to which you and Rebecca share a disgusted face.

“That’s disgusting, Keeley,” you tease.

“Oi, you’re one to talk!” she returns and Rebecca nods as if to say, she’s got a point.

“Any-fucking-way,” Roy says, looking at you, “Figured you’d want to be downstairs when the boys meet Bea. They’re changing and getting clean so it’s going to take a fucking minute.”

You nod. “Hey Bec, you wanna hold her?”

Rebecca closes her laptop. “I would absolutely love to.”

Roy growls in a way that means fuck no, but Bea’s your baby so he unwraps her and gently hands her to Rebecca. Bea settles so sweetly into Rebecca’s arms that you swear you want to cry. Stupid hormones.

“Your prick husband is still downstairs bothering Sam and Dani,” Roy says, and you remember oh yeah, I have a prick husband. You get up off the couch.

“I should probably go see him,” you reply. “Becca, you want to come, or..?”

Rebecca is still gazing at Bea, but she nods and stands up, heels discarded on the floor.

You make your way to the locker room to find Jamie surrounded by the team, scrolling through something on his phone.

“…And this is her wearing her Tartt onesie. Here she is with me mum, and this one…” he trails off when he sees you.

“Hi love!” he says, “Just showing the lads the pictures I got of Bea.”

There’s something about Jamie standing in the middle of the locker room crowded by his team that just makes your heart feel like it’s going to explode. You laugh and bound over to him, throwing your arms around his neck.

“You’re such a dad, Jamie Tartt,” you tell him affectionately, to which he replies, “Learned from the best, didn’t I?” with a glance at Ted.

“Alright,” you say, arms off of Jamie’s neck but now entwined around his left bicep, “who wants to meet Bea officially?”

Hands go up around the room and to your surprise, they’re all quiet. In scary unison, they move to sit on the benches and hold their hands up, palms facing outward.

“What the fuck is happening?” you whisper to Beard.

“Ted had a baby-etiquette debrief,” he whispers back. “Inside voices, clean hands, neck support, the whole deal. Had me make a slideshow to back him up.”

Rebecca shakes her head in disbelief as you all watch Isaac make his way around the room, inspecting hands and pronouncing them clean.

Rebecca does not look like she wants to give up Bea, but you tell her you’ll invite her over in a few days, as long as she doesn’t mind a messy house and takeout. She reluctantly hands Bea to Dani, who is beaming so hard you’re worried for his face muscles.

Jamie, meanwhile, rests his head on yours.

He leans down and whispers, “Hey babe?”

“Hm?” you respond.

“I’m going to fall asleep standing up. D’you think Bea would be fine if we crashed in Ted’s office?”

You grin. You think Bea would be fine anywhere there’s a member of AFC Richmond.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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asamiontop · 1 year

Text

“Bea.”

“Hm?” Beatrice grumbles, too close to sleep to keep from sounding grumpy.

“I’m cold.”

Ava sounds sheepish, unsure of herself in a way that Beatrice immediately aches to soothe. She turns to regard her bedmate.

(The singular bed in their Switzerland apartment had starred in many of their disagreements during their first week. Both of them refused to relegate the other to the narrow futon across the room—Beatrice because self-sacrifice was hammered into her cellular makeup and Ava because she couldn’t abide the idea of a too-tall Beatrice unable to fully lay flat on the lumpy cushion. In the end, stubbornness won and they agreed to share the bed, leaving a tenuous twenty centimeters of empty mattress between them. Twenty centimeters of which Beatrice was constantly and acutely aware.)

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Ava continues after a brief silence, “I know we have training early, I just… I can’t sleep. It’s too cold.”

The nervousness in Ava’s voice is unacceptable. Self-doubt in the Warrior Nun is unacceptable, Beatrice corrects. One of those truths urges her into alertness.

“It’s alright, Ava,” she offers with a yawn, “I understand.”

Working from memory, Beatrice calls up an image of their budget. She projects their next paychecks and expenses, factors in the potential for extra tips during the holiday weekend influx, and concludes they can afford to purchase an extra blanket at the flea market tomorrow. She had watched Ava steal the last available one—the scratchy wool thing thrown over the back of the couch—earlier this evening before bed.

“If we’re careful for the next week, tomorrow we can—”

“Canwemaybecuddle,” Ava blurts, interrupting Beatrice’s half-formed explanation. It’s supposed to be a question, Beatrice thinks, but the words sputter into the quiet midnight air like some sort of manic exclamation.

Sister Beatrice blinks. She breathes through the uncomfortably pleasant fluttering in her chest until she can consider the request rationally. Ava isn’t patient enough to await the deliberation.

“It’s just,” she begins, sounding increasingly panicked, “we don’t have any more blankets and my warm clothes are in the laundry and you’re always so hot—I mean, shit. I mean, that’s a survival tactic right? Huddling together for warmth? I saw it on a penguin documentary once.”

Ava’s logic is sound but Beatrice is too busy stifling a fond smile to say much of anything. Her silence drags on long enough that her bedmate whips her head over, wide-eyed and apologetic. Ava opens her mouth to backtrack, but in the diffuse lamplight her eyes catch on Beatrice’s lips wrapped tight around a swell of affection.

The worry slips away and a knowing grin transforms Ava’s expression. Ava doesn’t smother her fondness the way Beatrice does. No; it shines plain as day in her eyes as she mutters, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Letting me talk in circles?”

Beatrice’s mouth pulls to one side and she allows a small chuckle to slip through her control. “Just a bit. You have quite a talent for it.”

Ava snorts and nudges Bea with her elbow. “Well sometimes I can’t help it. You’re silent brooding can be pretty intimidating, you know.”

“Brooding?” Beatrice frowns, affronted. “I wouldn’t call it—”

Ava’s laugh tinkles in the room and Beatrice’s mouth snaps shut.

“Don’t worry, Bea. It’s cute brooding.”

Beatrice’s cheeks heat and she’s grateful for the dim lighting as her eyes seek neutral territory on the ceiling.

Maybe I only run hot around you.

The thought catches Beatrice entirely by surprise and she’s wrestling madly with it when Ava’s hand brushes hers, a small but meaningful breach of the no-man’s-land between them. It’s immediately comforting.

“Hey, don’t worry about it if it makes you uncomfortable,” Ava entreats, all teasing gone from her voice. “We don’t need to—uh, touch or anything. I’ll be okay.”

“No,” Beatrice latches into Ava’s fingers before she can pull away. Her brain catches up to her and she clears her throat, loosens her unexpectedly urgent grip on Ava’s hand. “I mean. You’re right. Increased proximity is an effective tactic to maintain body temperature.”

Stupidly, she adds, “And yes, Emperor Penguins do it.”

She can practically hear Ava’s smirk. “Oh my god, Bea.” The smirk grows into a laugh and Beatrice lets the small blasphemy slide.

“Did you just tell me that I’m right?” Ava’s delight practically glows as Beatrice rolls her eyes. Maybe the Halo is enjoying this too. “I can’t believe it. Wow, that’s like—”

“Shut up and turn over so I can spoon you.”

Ava goes absolutely still at the interruption.

“Uh—wh—” Ava chokes a bit, clears her throat of it eventually. “What?” She finally manages, barely above a whisper.

Calmly, which is an effort all on its own, Beatrice explains.

“The most efficient way to exchange body heat between two people is to maximize physical contact.” Her face burns at the words, which Beatrice will dismiss as productive, all things considered. “Therefore, spooning is the optimal, ahem, position.”

Beatrice makes no mention of the other ways to enhance the exchange of body heat that decide to flash across her pure, untainted mind.

“Oh, okay. Yeah.” Ava agrees and quickly does as she’s told, turning away from Bea and onto her side.

Beatrice follows, muttering a thoughtless “good, just like that” before it occurs to her not to. Ava makes a muffled squeak that Beatrice furiously ignores.

Faced with the planes of Ava’s shoulders, a commonplace sight made extraordinary by the offer hanging between them, Beatrice pauses to take a breath.

There’s no denying the acute eagerness with which her body prepares to scoot closer. The pull towards Ava is magnetic and steady—stronger the closer Beatrice gets. But it’s also honest and peaceful—right in a way that threatens to drag Beatrice’s entire value system into the blinding harshness of questioning light.

Beatrice struggles against the ease with which she slides forward. She finds her soul and her faith with no foes to fight. It’s jarring to spend a lifetime steeling oneself for resistance only to encounter nothing to oppose. Nothing but love, pure and unassuming, seeping through every crevice in the weakening constructs of Beatrice’s life.

(Love is the twist that Sister Beatrice never expected, undeniably holy and propelling her towards Ava, centimeter by broken centimeter.)

Her hand hovers above Ava’s waist, hesitant to initiate a contact that seems liable to shatter everything. She sucks in a fortifying breath and begins to count backwards from ten.

“Bea?” Ava’s gentle concern slices through her at seven and something settles in her chest.

“I’m here,” Beatrice murmurs and drops her palm over the dip of Ava’s side with a decisive exhale. Ava breathes along with her and somehow that small synchronicity is what erases all remaining doubt. “I’m going to move closer now. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ava confirms.

Beatrice smiles and shuffles forward, aligning her front to Ava’s back before settling into the mattress behind her. She stops breathing completely as Ava shifts to accommodate their closeness. Not because of friction or anything so untoward, but because the perfection with which Ava’s body slots against hers has the power to break her.

There’s a debilitating effortlessness in the way Ava fits, backside nestled benignly in the cradle of Beatrice’s hips and shoulder blades pressed evenly to the expanse of her chest. Beatrice’s legs jerk forward and settle completely against the length of Ava’s.

Ava sinks languidly into the curve of Beatrice’s body. Her smaller frame makes it so Beatrice is wrapped around her in every way but one.

Beatrice’s hand still hovers, debating whether it can go where it wants and maintain plausible deniability. Ava decides for her, reaching swiftly for Beatrice’s wrist and bringing it to her chest before either of them can question it.

Her arm falls around Ava’s middle, snaking up through the Halo Bearer’s and into a tangle of their hands. In the spaces between her fingers, Beatrice feels the faint thump of Ava’s heart.

Ava twitches once and tucks her frigid toes between Beatrice’s feet with a huff. The sting of cold draws Beatrice’s attention to the gooseflesh prickling the skin of Ava’s arms.

“You are cold,” she breathes, unsure why she’s surprised. It’s absolutely involuntary how her hold on Ava tightens at the observation.

“Mm,” Ava answers. She wriggles, making herself small, and settles deeper in Beatrice’s arms. “Better now, though.”

Beatrice finds herself beaming, haloed in a warmth that’s a different kind of divine than the ring burning in Ava’s back. She takes stock of the moment, each sound and each breath, and discovers nothing at all out of place. She reaches for every point of contact between them, extending her awareness into her body, and finds it balanced, utterly relaxed.

Here with Ava, there is peace. Peace for every unsettled part of her. And that… that is something new indeed.

Beatrice lets herself tip forward, rests her forehead against the crown of Ava’s head.

“Glad I could help,” she whispers, tugging Ava closer as her heart lurches with the piercing truth of that statement.

“You always help, Bea,” Ava mumbles sleepily. “You’re the best. ‘S why I love you.”

Beatrice inhales sharply, inadvertently fills her lungs with the simple cleanliness of Ava’s shampoo. It calms her unsettlingly fast.

Her shaky exhale ruffles the ends of Ava’s hair.

“Goodnight Ava,” Beatrice says in place of the emotion that’s taking hold of her windpipe.

“Night,” comes the barely intelligible response.

In one more breath, Ava’s asleep.

Slowly, Beatrice lifts her chin. Carefully, carefully, her lips make contact with the softness of Ava’s hair. Beatrice sighs, pressing the slightest of kisses where she rests.

“I love you, too,” she mouths inaudibly in the safety of her hiding place. “More than you know.”

Ava shifts, sighs, and sinks into Beatrice once more.

#Avatrice #warrior nun #ficlet #cuddling in Switzerland #many exist but add it to the list #couldn’t get this out of my head

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be-missed · 6 months

Text

Not Strong Enough (Chap 3)

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

(picture not mine)

Summary: Jenna was visiting her mom in the hospital to drop off the food that will be eaten for the hospital party, but she met a resident surgeon and she thought "God forbid I ran into an accident, but I want her to open me and stitch me up." While the surgeon tries her best to keep her fan girling low-key.

Warning: curse words

A/N: Hey, 3rd chapter in a row. Thank you again for reading and enjoy!

Masterlist

Chap 1 | Chap 2

______________________________________________________________

Chap 3

"Had a fun time in the party, I'm so glad we got to have this celebration for our achievements in our department" Ava said as she dropped her bags beside their front door. Behind her is her wife Beatrice, followed by Y/N and their other friend Camila, who is also a doctor in the Pediatric Department.

"Aww, that really sucks, why do I always get to be left out by you guys." Camila said with a pout on her lips while the other three people inside the house just laughed at her.

"Well sweety, you chose to do your residency in Pedia Department and you love kids, that is why." Beatrice answered her while she went to Ava in their kitchen to help with reheating the premade dinner that they cooked earlier today.

As Y/N and Camila got settled in the living room, they started to catch up with each others life and what stresses them in their department. A little banter over here and there, laughs were echoing throughout the household until Ava called them to go to the dining table to eat.

"Cheers to us noobs to conquering and still being here thriving to do our best, cheers." Y/N tells as she raised their glass and drink their wine.

"I told you having a monthly dinner between the four of us is a great idea, us being free and to catch up with one another." Camila said with a cheeky grin while the other three are just laughing.

"We are all well informed with each others life since we are just literally in the same department unlike you." Beatrice chimed in which makes them laugh, because they love to tease Camila for being the only one that chose pediatrics, but they truly support her since that is where her passion goes but they also love teasing her.

"Not fair guys, I'm getting bullied here, I'm all by myself." Camila teasingly moping and laughing.

"But truly, I really am thankful for the three of you for adopting me in your friend group. I always feel that my home is far but when I'm with you all, home just gets a little bit closer." Y/N tells with a grateful smile on her face.

"Okay, stop with the cheesiness, Halloween is just around the corner so Bea and I planned of a Halloween party, but you know, just for the four of us since we can't really handle big crowds and get overstimulated." Ava proposed and laughs.

"I'm definitely in." Y/N approved and everyone nodded while they enjoy their dinner.

While Y/N is having fun in Ava and Bea's household, Jenna on the other side is facing her mom with the questions that she expected to be asked.

"Well?" Natalie asked Jenna with her left hand on her hip.

"She is new and she looks fun, what is wrong with having a new friend right?" Jenna answered.

Natalie looked at her daughter with questioning eyes, not fully believing what her daughter answered, but, she won't push through, she doesn't want to rush and pressure her daughter.

"Okay, I believe in you. But don't pull that stunt on me again mija, I am a nurse not an actress." Natalie answered with a smile and kissed her daughter's forehead as she leaves Jenna's room.

---

Sun goes up so then another day arrived. The beams of light never shined so bright for Y/N because today is her day-off, which means she can just lay-down and just spend the rest of her day snuggling her pillow and ordering a whole pizza for dinner just to binge watch Brooklyn 99 for the nth time.

BUT. There is a big but that comes to her mind. If they will have a costume party, that means that she needs to buy a costume for herself, because if she did not, Ava will totally gonna punch her face, Camila will kick her in the stomach, and Beatrice will gonna Aikido her. So yes, what she planned was never gonna happen.

Y/N rolled over on her bed until her feet falls and touches the ground, and tries to push her body to stand up. She is trying so hard, looking like a baby that wants to stand up and just walk, and after fighting her own for a second, she got the chance to stand up and scream.

Screaming, that was therapeutic for Y/N, you just scream and all the tension inside your body will somehow get out. For her it is good, but for her neighbors, probably no.

Finding some clothes and going outside to her car, she received a notification.

Fr Jenna:

Thank you again for yesterday.

To Jenna:

No worries. You can text me or call me if you need something :D.

Fr Jenna:

Wow, that is something that I will hold on to ;)

And with that, Y/N smashed her head in her steering wheel, asking WHY OH WHY, Jenna just sent her a wink. A FUCKING WINK. It's just a wink but her heart can't seem to follow the right rhythm for it to function naturally.

Breathing in, Breathing out. A minute of breathing exercise helped Y/N to pull herself together and starts her car to go to the mall.

Traffic lights turned from green to red from red to green, driving around corners and street while listening to NIKI, Y/N arrived at the mall and had one thing in mind; to buy a dress just like Mavis from Hotel Transylvania.

She loved that movie, that is probably one of her comfort movie. So, on the drive to the mall, she sets her mind on finding a black dress, a red and black striped thigh and some pair of fangs.

Going in and out of different stores, she got to buy the dress and the fangs, but those damn red and black striped thighs are surely nowhere to be found. Going down the escalator, she saw a crowd of people that is following a person, with their cellphones out, flashes from their phone camera on, a paper to sign on.

Y/N thinks that it must be a pain in the ass to be in the middle of a crowd and getting huddled at. Trying to find the person that causes a crowd, she stops on the foot of the escalator and tried to tip on her toes and found her target.

While seeing the person that was in the middle she thought "Wow, she is so small in the middle, with her big ass headphones? Damn she might not here a thing, and that fit, she knows how to dress." Slowly, her eyes trail from the girl's outfit and focused on her face that was hidden with those bangs.

And Y/N realised, like she got hit by a truck, struck by lighting, and thrown in an ice bath. HOLY SHIT IT IS JENNA YOU DUMBASS. Y/N hurriedly went and followed the crowd yelling Jenna's name.

"JENNA..... JEEENNNAAAA." Y/N realised that that was a dumb move, everyone calling Jenna. So the next thing that Y/N did is to thread along in the crowd until she is close enough to touch Jenna.

But Jenna is inside her head thinking, she just wants to chill and relax by the roof top in the mall, reading a book that she just bought so she could have a relaxing day. But then a person noticed her and the news that Jenna Ortega was in the building spread like a wildfire until she builds a crowd that is now huddling her.

All Jenna wanted was some peace. She just wants to do the things that she did in the past, but it looks like she also can't have that now. Being so much in her head, she never realised that Y/N was totally yelling at her and calling her, not until she felt someone tugged at her elbow, and she really tried to be polite, but tugging her elbow was her last straw. So she looked up with her brow meeting at the end and ready to throw some bad looks to the person that just tugged her.

That's when she realised that it was you. The angry face and her eyes that holds a look that can kill slowly disappear. Her eyes are now looking at you with such tender and softness, her lips are holding a sad smile, and her brows never looked so calm. So what she did was to stop on her tracks to focus on you more.

"You wanna get out?" Y/N asked, while Jenna just nodded.

Y/N graced Jenna with a bright smile and asked "Think you can run?" and without waiting for Jenna's answer, Y/N tugged Jenna's hands as they started to run away from the crowd and went inside the department store which where they try to lose the people that is trying to follow Jenna.

Even though they are out of breath, smiles was plastered in their faces, hands are tightly held with each other and with every passing floor that they run to, they got into a secluded place of the store and got the chance to take a little rest and chase their breaths.

Y/N was the one to break the silence "Well that was fun." and she handed Jenna a handkerchief that was neatly folded inside her back pocket while she swiped her own sweat with another handkerchief that she got from her front pocket.

Jenna accepted the handkerchief and helped herself "Always ready. huh?" and smirked, while Y/N answered "Yup, we never know when a pretty lady needs one, right?" and winked at Jenna.

AND DAMN, Jenna knows that she is blushing so she just kept on blotting her face.

"Do you have a ride home? I can drop you by if you want." Y/N kindly offered, and Jenna is too tired to defy so she just nodded and said "Yes please."

---

While in the car, the album that Y/N played earlier continued to help them blur out the noise from the outside.

"Thank you for earlier, I was just trying to relax then everything got out of hand and then one moment I was alone the I got crowded by a lot of people and I kind of just shut down and blurred my environment." Looking at y/N's side profile with a sad look on her face.

"Hey now, don't be hard on yourself. It's fine and you're welcome. I don't know how you fully feel about the situation that happened earlier but I am right here to listen to it and to understand you okay? I'm here to listen. It's okay to blur things out when everything got out of hand." Y/N answered with a soft smile plastered on her face.

Red light was indicated by the traffic light and that got Y/N a chance to reach for Jenna's hand and squeeze it without looking at her.

Jenna smiled, thankful not only for what Y/N did earlier but for what she also said. Because it sometimes irritates her when someone tells her "I know and I understand your situation" because they just don't. Jenna believed that even if we are faced with the exact same thing in our life, it doesn't mean that we get to experience it just the same. This is where Jenna's understanding the life of other people is not as easy or hard as hers, we have different perspective in life and how we view things.

A comfortable silence once again situated in the air not until Jenna hears Y/N humming to the song that is playing that is slowly turning into mumbled lyrics.

"So why can't you for once, disregard the world and run to what you know is real." Y/N sang without a care in her mind and not noticing that Jenna is now staring at her.

"Take a chance with me... take a chance with me." Y?N sang with such desperation that got Jenna thinking "who the hell is she pertaining that to?"

The car suddenly breaks and Y/N looked at Jenna "Well, we arrived at our destination."

That got Jenna sad, since it means no Y/N beside her.

"Thank you again for earlier and driving me home. I can't think of anything to repay your kindness." Jenna said shyly.

"Hey, don't mind it, we are friends, and I will totally help you whenever you need me." Y/N said, which hurt Jenna slight because Y/N just used the word "friend" but that is a good start isn't it?

"Okay let's stop moping and what if you repay me by going to a concert with me this coming weekend?" Y/N hopefully asked Jenna. Asking her in a concert might be to dangerous since there are a lot of people that will notice them, but taking a risk isn't bad thing, right?

Jenna smirked and nodded her head "Sure, absolutely, I would love to join you."

Y/N went out of her side and went to Jenna's side to open her car door "This way m'lady" Y/N said with a curtsy that made Jenna laugh.

"Hmm, a gentle woman who open doors and gives me a curtsy huh." Jenna teased while Y/N answered "Well this probably will never get out of style huh?" with a grin.

"Oh yeah? You doing some old stuff like curtsy get you girls? Is that why you are still driving a stick?" Jenna teased with a laugh and Y/N acted hurt and answered "Why would you say that? I love my car and it makes me feel like I'm racing just like in Fast and the Furious."

They walked to the Ortega's front door and stand in front of each other.

Jenna broke the silence "Thank you again." and her pointer finger silently reached for Y/N's pointer finger, which Y/N decided to give and they intertwined it with each other.

With Y/N's other hand, she swats the flying hair away from Jenna's face and tell her "Again, if it is for you, I'll always be there." and smiles.

"That's fucking cheesy."

Jenna and Y/N heard from their side and saw Aliyah with a teasing face. The both of them didn't noticed that the door opened just a few seconds after they got situated in the front door.

Jenna immediately closed their front door and yelled "WHAT THE HELL ALIYAH."

Y/N just laughed and said "I'm going now, have some rest." and waved going to her car.

Jenna then yelled "Text me when you got home and stay safe!"

Jenna stayed at their front porch playing with her finger that touched Y/N not knowing that Y/N is also doing the same inside of her car.

Y/N smiled at herself and screams inside her car, not because she is stressed but she is filled with happiness that was caused by this girl whom she just dropped off.

Jenna entered their living room and yelled "ALIYAH YOU ARE SO DEAD."

______________________________________________________________

Chap 4

A/N: Thanks for reading. Comments and suggestions are appreciated! Hope you enjoyed the story and you can click this song title to listen to the song Take A Chance With Me by NIKI.

#jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #NotStrongEnough #fiction #fanfic #jenna ortega imagine #wednesday addams imagine #tara carpenter x reader

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familyvideostevie · 5 months

Text

living high until that fatal day

a/n: i never do this. literally, never. when i'm not here i'm writing stuff that's not x reader for ao3 and this is a fic i posted over there. it's a time loop story about joel and ellie. @bageldaddy told me i had to post it here. without her this fic would not exist. thank you so much, bea. so, here we go. if you read it, thank you. let me know what you think. joel miller & ellie williams gen fic. 7.5k words warnings: Time Loop, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, kind of???, it resolves, Suicide, only in one of the loops!, Canon-Typical Violence, joel gets stuck and has to figure it out, Father-Daughter Relationship, thoughts about sacrifice and love, POV Joel, mostly, this one is kind of intense folks, major character death tag is cause well the loop ends one way or another, gonna diverge at the end, but it ends well!!! i promise, also this is pretty firmly game but hbo folks should be okay!

summary: joel finds himself stuck in a time loop of that day in salt lake city.

Joel lies to her.

He's got dried blood under his fingernails and his shoulder aches from the kick of the rifle and he's so, so tired.

But he lies to her.

If he was a smarter man he'd have thought of something better. Told her that the hospital got raided or they had a FEDRA mole, how the whole thing was a sham from the start. He doesn't know if she was awake for any of it. If the last thing she remembers is him reaching for her and failing to save her. If she remembers what it feels like to drown.

It's hard to look at her in the mirror but he manages. Just keep driving, hands tight on the wheel. Don't white knuckle, don't spook her. She's in the car. She's safe. He did it.

"We found the Fireflies," he says. She doesn't look at him. "Turns out there's a...a whole lot more like you, Ellie. People that're immune. It's dozens, actually."

There's a strange pull in his gut, a pull that he's felt a few times before in the moments before everything went south. When the soldier pointed his gun by the river, when Tess looked at him on her last day, when he fell off the ledge in Colorado. But he ignores it.

"Ain't done a damn bit of good, either. They've actually st--" Ellie closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. She doesn't look at him. "They've stopped looking for a cure. I'm takin' us home. I'm sorry."

She turns her back to him and the pull becomes a burn, becomes a black hole under his ribcage taking everything with him. He blinks once, twice, wonders if he got shot and didn't notice, if he cracked a rib and it punctured his lung, if --

The road in front of him disappears.

He can't see a damn thing -- not like the lights went out, like there is nothing to see. There is nothing in front of him at all.

Then, Joel wakes up yesterday.

___

He jolts awake with a strangled yell. Ellie kneels over him, the rifle he taught her to hold slung over her shoulder. It's just past dawn based on the color of the sky and how he can make out most of her face, her withdrawing hand and her unimpressed but slightly concerned frown.

"You were talking again," Ellie says. "Nightmares?"

Joel tears his eyes from her and thunks his head back down on his crumpled up jacket. The trees stretch high above him and he tries to get it together so he doesn't spook her.

They’re camped within sight of the highway. Salt Lake City has been looming for days now and Joel doesn't want to take any chances. The ring-road is almost clear, dotted here and there with cars and a fair amount of supplies, enough that Joel suspects people haven't been here for some time. If this is another Colorado State situation, he's going to have to put Ellie in a car and take them back to Jackson before she does something stupid.

She's fine. Well, no, not quite. Things aren't the same and they never will be but he can tell she's doing her best and he won't ask more than that. Their pace has slowed this week and he's having a hard time figuring out if she's sliding back into some sort of post-Colorado haze or if she's nervous about actually arriving in Salt Lake.

God knows he's nervous as hell.

But every day she'll walk as far as he tells her to and won't complain. He knows she wants to get there. They have to get there and it has to work -- because he doesn't know what they're going to do otherwise.

She asked him a question. Nightmares. Joel sits up and drags his hand down his face.

"Somethin' like that."

Ellie shrugs and starts to clean up their camp now that he's awake. He still hates letting her take watch, but she needs to feel in control of things, so they split it most nights. She hums a little bit as she works and he has hopes that today might be a good day.

But that dream... It comes back in flashes: the giraffes, the tunnel. Ellie hanging from the side of the bus because she jumped to save him, her small frame sinking slowly, just out of reach. The crack of her ribs underneath his hands. The hospital. The Fireflies.

Joel gets up, rolls his shoulder at a phantom pain and looks down at his hands. Crusted with dirt and nothing more.

Jesus Christ. He's losing it.

They set off.

The blue hospital sign seems to shine in the spring sun all too soon.

"This is where we get off. Let's go, kiddo."

Joel talks even though he knows she's not listening. He talks to take his mind off of the echo that sits at the base of his neck with every step. Has he told her he'll teach her guitar before? He's been thinking it for months.

Ellie trails behind him, kicking rocks and half-heartedly searching cars when he asks her to. She heads for a faded blue sedan but he stops her.

"Blue one won't open, don't bother."

The look she gives him makes him think about what he just said. "How do you know that?"

He blinks. How does he know that? Before he can explain it, Ellie shrugs and keeps walking.

The disinterest is new and it doesn't sit well with him. She's been through a lot, more than any kid deserves, and they're almost there. He figures it's worse today because of that.

"I dreamt about flying the other night."

Joel's stomach twists. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Go on, tell me about it."

She tells him about her dream, about how it felt to fly and then fall, and he is dizzy with deja vu.

"I've never been on a plane." Ellie looks at him like he can tell her what it means. Like he has any damn answers at all. "Isn't that weird?"

Joel hums and swallows the lump in his throat. The bus terminal. Ellie, drowning. Firefly after Firefly in his path. His hands flex around a gun that isn't there.

"Well, you know. Dreams are weird." It tastes like a lie in his mouth but he can't figure out why.

It gets worse when they find the bus station, when she runs off in search of something that's got her smiling. Her small hand reaches for the giraffe, her eyes bright, but Joel feels like he's watching it through a fog. He knows what she's going to say before she says it.

"So fucking cool."

Joel has seen a lot of weird shit in his life but whatever is happening here is leagues above the rest. It bumps up against something in his brain, like the answer is just out of reach but he can't fucking get there. Always a step behind when it counts.

Ellie hands him a picture of his dead daughter and something in him comes dangerously close to snapping. Instead of gratitude or sorrow or anything that would make sense, he's terrified.

He's fucking terrified because this happened. Which means he knows what comes next.

But there's no time to worry about it. They pick their way through the tunnel, through the runners and the clickers and the fucking bloaters. The pressure on his neck gets heavier, gets almost unbearable. He's strung tighter than he's been in years, like the walls are closing in on him and there's a timer he can't see.

When they get to the rapids, he waits for Ellie to get to the other side of the bus until he jumps on it but it dislodges. The dam in his head breaks and he yells, screams at her to run, to leave him, but she jumps on the bus anyway.

She drowns.

Joel doesn't doubt that the Fireflies are coming -- he hears them -- but he doesn't take his eyes off of her, doesn't stop the chest compressions until he's knocked out.

The rest of it is a blur, his sense of reality already warped by his need to get to the operating room. To save her.

Joel picks them off one by one, floor by floor, hardly taking note of how familiar it all feels. He doesn't even give the surgeon a chance to speak before he's dead, a bullet between the eyes. He knows they'll make it to the elevator. He kills Marlene. He drives them away.

He lies.

He wakes up yesterday again.

___

It takes a few days before Joel purposely deviates from what he's thinking of as the script. His head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds when he wakes in the clearing, Ellie's eyes on him.

He thinks about it as they pack up camp. Can he get them out of here? Would that be allowed? The rules of this aren't clear to him but he figures it can't hurt to try. They could turn around right now and make it back to Jackson in a week or so.

He watches Ellie carefully arrange her things in her bag, watches her stop to admire a butterfly in the branches above. He watches her and tries to see her alive and not pale on an operating table.

"Ellie," he says. "I got a bad feelin' about this."

She loves to tell him he's overreacting but today she crosses her arms and sits back on her heels. "What do you mean?"

Her scream as she falls into the water. Her ribs cracking beneath his hands. The piercing alarm in the hospital, her body warm but limp in his arms.

"What if we waited?" She frowns but he keeps going. "Went back to Jackson, rested up. Took a break. Come back in a few months with a bit of a crew. Tommy'll give us some guys, hell, I bet he'll come with if you want --"

"No," Ellie says sharply. There's an edge to her voice he hasn't heard in a long time. "Joel, shut up."

"Ellie --"

She stands abruptly, takes a few steps back. "I said no." The look on her face tells Joel he's already lost. "Are you -- are you fucking kidding me? You want to go back? Now?"

He sighs. "Just to rest up. We don't know what we're walking into --"

Ellie throws her hands around in disbelief. Her eyes look wet. Christ, he's made her cry again. He promised himself he wouldn't do that.

"We don't know if they'll still be there."

"We don't know if they are there."

"And we won't find out if we fucking run away like cowards!"

Joel stands. "I don't want another Colorado State situation, Ellie --" Her face shutters. Mistake.

"Don't bring up Colorado," she growls. "You don't know what that was like."

Damn right he doesn't. He knows by now what happened but he'll never know how hard it was for her to survive when he was busy dying on that mattress. But he has to try something or they'll just end up here again tomorrow. Yesterday. Whatever.

The idea of her suffering makes his hackles rise, makes his blood run cold

"Can I finish a god damned sentence?" he snaps. Ellie is undeterred and snaps back.

"Not if it's going to be about leaving. We-- I -- we're not fucking leaving. Not after everything. We can't."

Joel sighs and drags a hand down his face. This girl. He's trying to save her and she can't see it. There's no way to make her see it and it's his fault. She should know by now that he'd do anything, anything, for her. He lost that battle a long time ago, probably longer ago than he'd like to admit.

"I know," he tells her. "Just...if you want to give it all up, to go back, we can. We don't have to go through with this."

Ellie's eyes are blazing and her tone is disappointed. It cuts deep. "Yes we do. I thought you'd understand that, Joel."

He follows her this time as she stalks down the highway towards the hospital. No mention of six strings, no dreams about planes. They catch the giraffes but she doesn't stick around to watch them for as long. It's a different kind of loss to be without her smile, her laughter. Joel wishes he'd never opened his god damned mouth.

"I'm sorry," he says. "For earlier." Ellie pauses on the stairs and half turns to look up at him. "I know it's important to you."

She sighs. "I know you mean well." Joel closes his eyes. He knows what comes next. "But there's no halfway with this. Once we're done, we'll go wherever you want, okay?"

He plays his part for the rest of the day, just to get it over with.

___

Next time, Joel waits until they're watching the giraffes to try something different.

"So," he says. "This everything you were hoping for?"

Ellie gives him her half-smile. "It's got its ups and downs, but...you can't deny that view, though."

He seizes his chance. "Wanna go down there?"

She perks up. "Really? Do you think they'll let us get close?"

"They might. Let's try."

They manage to backtrack a little bit and end up on the field. It smells like a zoo but Ellie is thrilled to be so close so they post up on the roof of a rusty FEDRA Jeep. Two of the giraffes end up eating out of the tree right above them. Ellie holds her breath.

"They just...don't care, do they?" she whispers. "How long do you think they've been here?"

She leans into his side and cranes her neck to watch one of them use its tongue.

"Don't know," he says. "Big ones could've been from before. But the tiny one s'probably younger than you."

"So cool," she says again. "They're from a zoo, right? I wonder if anything else lives in the city."

They've been sitting here long enough that the sun has started to set. Joel allows himself to hope.

"Might be. What do you say we spend the night here and look on the way to the hospital tomorrow? Daylight'll do us better."

Ellie chews on his suggestion. "I guess," she says. "Are we safe here?"

"Should be." Joel has no idea, frankly. He sure as hell wants them to wake up here in the morning. He wants to make good on this idea, wants to show her something else that'll make her smile. He wants this to be a bizarre, unexplainable day that he'll forget about with time.

"I'll keep watch."

They set up camp crowded against the fence so Joel can see the whole field. The giraffes leave them alone and Ellie falls asleep quickly after they eat.

In the quiet open air the dread in his gut returns full-force and he knows he's wrong. Again.

A branch cracks and he whirls around, rifle in hand to find three men pointing their guns at him through the wire. They might be wearing Firefly jackets but he can't tell. He doesn't care. Joel dares to look at Ellie for a second and sees she's still asleep.

It's a mistake.

One of them follows his gaze and his eyes widen.

"Holy shit," he whispers. "She looks like who Marlene said --"

"Shut up," the second one hisses. "On the ground, old man."

"How are you gonna get around that fence, hotshot?" he says. "Ellie. Ellie, wake up."

She blinks a few times and sees his stance. scrambling to her feet with her knife in hand.

"Holy shit. What the fuck?"

"Get behind me."

One of the soldiers points his gun at her.

"Don't move."

It's chaos after that. The guys shout at each other.

"Don't point it at her! Don't you remember the fucking briefing?"

"You hadn't even joined when we got here, you don't know. We've been looking for her for months --"

"If you shoot her we're all dead --"

Joel locks eyes with Ellie.

"When I say run, you run. Okay?"

The fear in her eyes turns to determination. Brave girl, he thinks. I'm sorry. He waits for the idiot pointing at her to look away and takes a deep breath. What's one more day?

"Run!"

Joel doesn't check to see if she obeys before firing through the fence. The rifle is incredibly powerful at such a short range and where there was once a head there's only mist. Joel clears the chamber as fast as he can and gets the second one in the shoulder but he's not fast enough for a third and before he realizes it he's on his back in the grass.

The Firefly's assault rifle litters Joel's chest with bullets but he doesn't feel it until he tries to take a breath and nothing comes. It's like he's underwater.

At least he didn't make her cry this time.

Joel isn't much of a believer in anything but he decides fairly quickly that he's in Hell or something close. God knows he deserves it.

His sins are countless, his ledger dripping with red just like his hands. They will never be clean. What he can't figure out is how he got here. Did he die somewhere in St. Mary's? Is the real world somewhere else beyond his reach, now? If he died then what happened to Ellie?

He tries to make tallies in the bark of a tree on the edge of camp but they disappear every time he wakes up. He makes do with his own slowly unspooling brain. Two, five, ten.

Ellie is much the same every time but somewhere around day twenty she asks him about it. "How do you know where everything is?"

They're in the bus depot before the tunnel. He's taking them quickly around the tents, putting off Ellie handing him a photo of his dead daughter. It's muscle memory at this point. A pair of pliers here, some rags there. A half-empty but uncracked bottle of hooch behind that blood-stained bed, some bullets under that overturned partition.

"Just payin' attention."

"I pay attention!"

Joel uses the excuse to grin at her. It's hard sometimes to remember that she has no idea what's coming, that he can and should be good to her every chance he gets. The violence has already started to blur together in his mind. Killing everyone in the hospital is by far the easiest part of this fucking loop. These parts are harder.

"Didn't say you don't."

"I feel like that was a double negative."

She's still energized from the giraffes and he knows she's working up the courage to talk about Sarah, but right now he wants to spend time with her. He spots the Firefly medal tangled in the shattered floodlight and points it out.

"Ellie," he says. She's at his side in seconds, looking up at him with eyes brighter than he's seen in weeks. "Wanna get that down?"

She gives him her classic why are you like this look. "Are you going to be weird and pick it up?"

Joel shrugs and leans on the rotting tank nearby. "Just want to check your aim."

"My aim is really fucking good and you know it!" Even so, she picks up a brick from her feet and palms it, eyeing the silver circle before winding her arm back and hurling the brick towards it.

She misses. Maybe three hundred miles and a trail of dead bodies ago she'd have stormed off, embarrassed and pissed. But she just makes a face at the still-swinging medal and then looks at him. "How did I miss that?"

He pushes off the tank and scoops up a glass bottle. "Sun s'probably in your eyes." Joel stands next to her and eyes the target, trying to compensate in his mind for her height. "Stand here." Ellie moves over in front of him and he hovers his arm over her. "Can I?"

She nods. Joel presses the bottle into her hand and she takes it as he maneuvers her with a hand on her elbow until she's got the trajectory he thinks will work.

"Now?" she asks. "Feels pretty fucking similar to what I was doing."

"Just trust me. Throw a little lighter than last time. And higher."

Ellie sighs, but once he steps back she does as he says and nails the medal hard enough that it drops to the ground. She whoops and turns around, hands high in the air and a wide smile on her face. Joel tries to breathe through how easily she puts her faith in him.

"Fuck yeah! Did you see that?" She holds both hands out for a high five and he obliges.

"Sure did. Nice job, kiddo."

When Ellie hands him the picture of Sarah, he pulls her in for a hug. He half expects her to shove him off but instead she allows it, twisting her hands in his shirt as he cups the back of her head.

"Thank you," Joel says quietly, thickly.

Later, when he finds her on the operating table, he presses his lips to her forehead for an extra moment before picking her up and heading for the elevator.

He messes with the order of things a little bit. Tries to make their morning last longer, tries to stay watching the giraffes for an hour or so.

Sometimes it works.

Sometimes it doesn't.

Watching Ellie drown over and over fucks with his head more than the hospital does because he can't stop it. At least while he's leaving behind corpse after corpse he knows that she's asleep upstairs, waiting for him. In the tunnel, he knows that the only way out is through, but she has to fucking drown first.

He gets sloppy.

He forgets about the runners in the side rooms when he ducks in to avoid a clicker and takes a step too close. Ellie is behind him as always and he shoves her back blindly as three runners slam him against the metal railing of the stairs before he can reach for his gun. He's too surprised to feel anything, but their breath smells like rotting meat and something worse, something that makes his eyes water.

Joel searches the room for her and finds her -- pale-faced and terrified, already reaching for her knife. He tries to say her name but it comes out as a scream when one of the runners goes for his shoulder, jagged teeth ripping through his shirt in an instant.

"Ellie -- run, Ellie -- GO --" He begs her to leave him but his voice stops working as his throat is ripped out. The last thing he sees is her horrified face as she raises her pistol.

And then he wakes up yesterday.

___

It occurs to him on day 30 -- if he's keeping track accurately -- that he's got one of the smartest people he knows at his disposal. Kid's got an encyclopedic knowledge of space as well as science fiction stories. He asks her while they're still on the highway, stalling though he can see the blue H sign from here.

"Y'ever read stuff about time?" No reply. "Ellie?" She's staring at that deer again. "Ellie."

"What?"

"You read any stories about time back in school?"

"Uh, sure," she says. She tugs her sleeves over her hands and catches up to him, eyes on the ground. "Why?"

"Saw a weird movie 'bout it once. Somethin' reminded me of it this mornin'. Guy gets stuck in a...shit, what did they call it?" Joel peeks inside an RV and smells rot so he leaves it be. "He lives the same day over and over."

"A time loop!" Ellie sounds more excited about this than anything they've talked about for days. "Those are so fucking cool. Scary, though. I feel like I'd go crazy."

Joel drags a hand down his face. "Yeah," he says. "How do you think you get outta one?"

"Well, how did the guy in the movie do it?"

"He stopped bein' an asshole," he says. Ellie laughs.

"Well, we know that's not possible for you. Guess you're fucked."

"Guess so," he mutters.

The H sign is close enough that she'll see it any minute. He wishes for the hundredth time that they could just stay out here all day, just talking. If he had a guitar he'd play for her. If he had a fucking car he'd put her in it and turn around, even though it wouldn't do any good. They'd just end up right back here because he can't fucking figure out how to get out of this.

"I think you just have to change, right?" Ellie says. She's looking at the photo of an airplane on the bus. This time she doesn't tell him about her dream. Is he losing pieces of her, already? "I guess it doesn't have to be about yourself. Maybe something you do, or something you say. It's the universe telling you to make a different choice, right?"

That's the fucking thing. The choice isn't an option. It's not even a choice.

The one thing he hasn't tried and will not try is leaving the hospital when Marlene tells him to. He'd rather die a thousand times, rather live this shit show over and over for the rest of eternity than let them cut her brain out. They will not touch her while there is still breath in his body.

He'd do it all over again. He will.

Joel tries a hundred things and they don't work.

After his conversation with Ellie he decides to really fuck with the day. Doesn't matter, right? So long as she's not put in any extra danger he considers it. He begs her to walk away, get on his knees and pleads with her throughout the day. Doesn't work. She just gets pissed at him like that first time and he doesn't push it because he can't bear to see her cry. He lengthens their morning in the clearing, fakes sick or says the rifle is jammed and needs cleaning. That goes south, too, when a pack of runners wanders through the woods and straight into them. They make it to the highway and have to miss the giraffes because they're running.

One time Joel spends all day zig-zagging them around the city to avoid the tunnel. The Fireflies find them much the same way except they shoot him on sight and grab Ellie right out of his arms as he bleeds out on the cracked asphalt, her screams echoing in his ears.

Another time, he ties them together in the tunnel with some fraying rope and they both drown.

Killing Marlene early gets him a bullet in the head and not killing her at all gets him back where he started, no change.

Joel even begs the doctor to run more tests first, to try blood, to try anything, but it takes too long and the alarm sounds and he's cornered in the operating room before he can grab Ellie and go.

Nothing fucking works.

But what is there left to change?

His mind starts to fray. He loses count of the loops and it becomes hard to detach himself from the slaughter. Not even the good moments -- Ellie's laughter, the awe in her face when she sees the giraffes, her jokes and her muted but still sharp sarcasm -- keep him afloat. He's lost, adrift in a sea of blood and bullets and it starts to eat away any humanity that was left in him.

The blood of hundreds, thousands maybe, is on his hands and he feels nothing.

Once and only once does he get there too late. Everything else goes like it always does but maybe he took too long on the first floor, maybe he took too long picking the guys one by one instead of using the assault rifle, maybe maybe maybe.

When Joel gets to the pediatric ward he knows something is different -- he can hear a buzzing sound, something loud and unnatural. The stale air is thick with something metallic, tinged with death. The buzzing stops and he finds his feet glued to the floor outside the operating room. Voices on the other side of it, murmuring and the clink of metal on a tray. Joel's hand shakes when he reaches for the knob because he knows whatever he finds on the other side is going to kill him.

But he opens it because he has to. The doctor is at the sink this time, the nurses nowhere to be found. Ellie's body is covered in a sheet, blood seeping through the fabric. Joel looks away. He just stands there, his heartbeat loud in his ears as the world ends.

The first time his daughter died, Joel thought he could will it not to be so. He held her as long as he could, whispered her name with her blood drying on his hands until Tommy begged him to get moving.

This time, he knows it's true and he knows there's only one ending.

He raises his gun at the doctor who is now leaning on the edge of the sink. The door swings open and the nurses return, eyes wide and vibrating with the energy of a job well done. He swings over to them and kills them both with quick headshots. The doctor has barely turned around when he's dead, too.

Joel breathes, ears ringing. He manages one step closer to the operating table but his knees buckle and he goes down hard on the cool tile. His vision is blurry. Is he crying?

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby." He angles himself so he won't get any blood on her and then presses the barrel of his gun to his temple and pulls the trigger.

If Joel was on the edge of losing his mind before, now he's laser focused. He doesn't pull any more shit. He settles back into the loop, savoring Ellie's laughter with the giraffe and gunning down every sorry motherfucker in his way at the hospital. He will not get there late ever again.

So when Marlene says something different the next time around and he almost misses it.

Ellie is dead weight in his arms but she's warm and he can see the rise and fall of her chest. The hospital was messier than usual because he rushed this time, cutting down the Fireflies like it was his last stand. There's blood in his hair and crusted under his fingernails and his shirt is beyond ruined.

"Are you going to tell her what happened here?" Marlene presses her hand into her side, blood leaking from around her crimson palm. "Are you going to tell her what you did?"

He lies to her.

Every time.

It's never occurred to him to try something else. Even though he's changed almost everything about this damn day except that.

Because Joel knows what happens if he tells the truth. He knows what that will cost him.

And he doesn't know if he'll survive it.

He's afraid. Joel doesn't want to lose her and if that makes him selfish then so be it. He wants to take her back to Jackson and give her a bedroom of her own and as many stupid comics as she wants and three meals a day for the rest of her long, peaceful life. He wants her to grow up and grow old.

He'd kill a thousand more Fireflies to make it happen.

He'd damn the whole world.

Because he loves her and it fucking hurts.

This girl and her puns and her comics and her god damned bravery and her bleeding heart. He doesn't want to lose her.

But is this, whatever this endless hell is, is it fair to her?

If it's breakable, if he has the ability to get them to tomorrow, to get them to Jackson, to get them home, shouldn't he? If he loves her shouldn't he give her a life even if he's not in it?

Joel gently arranges Ellie in the backseat and shoots Marlene in the head.

For a few seconds Ellie thinks she's in the car on the way into Pittsburgh. The hum of the old engine, the rocking motion of the truck. But -- wait. She's lying down. The car smells...musty. And she's cold like she's wearing a dress and --

"What the hell am I wearing?"

She flutters her eyes open. Different truck. Backseat. Is she in a...hospital gown? What the fuck? Where is she?

"Just take it easy," Joel says. Okay, so she's with Joel. Something in her chest settles. She must be safe. "Drugs are still wearin' off."

Drugs? Ellie pushes back into her memory and tries to find something, anything that'll give her a clue as to what's going on here. They were in the bus tunnel. The water was rushing, Joel jumped on the bus and it started moving and she...fell into the water?

It's a blur after that. More of a blank, really. Did they get to the hospital? Did they find the Fireflies? Based on her weird fucking outfit it sure seems like it.

"What happened?"

Joel's eyes flick up in the rearview mirror to look at her. "Let's get you into some clothes, first. Then we'll take a break and I'll tell you everythin'."

He sounds tired. More tired than he's ever sounded, frankly, but she can't imagine why. And he can't seem to stop looking at her like she's going to disappear. Like he hasn't seen her in ages.

"Okay," she says slowly. "Where the hell are we going to get those?"

"Your bag is on the floor by your feet." Joel veers off the highway down an exit ramp and Ellie sits up. Her head feels light for a second and then really heavy so she braces her hands on the seat in front of her and takes a few deep breaths. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah. Fucking...drugs, I guess. What'd they do that for?"

"They ran some tests. We'll talk about it."

Normally she'd push him but something feels off. Ellie tries to get a good look at his face but she can't, not from this angle, and not with her head fucking pounding like it is. She's missing so much time. It makes her skin crawl, makes her heart race. Joel is here, she tells herself. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to her.

He parks them at the edge of a cemetery and gets out of the car to stand guard while she changes out of the gown. Her last pair of jeans, apparently, and a grey t-shirt with a few holes in the collar. She wishes she had a sweatshirt or something to wrap around herself, to pull over her hands and feel covered. But beggars can't be choosers. At least someone put her shoes in her backpack.

Joel doesn't turn around when she opens the door but she sees him stiffen.

"I'm done." He looks back at her and she finally sees his face. "Jesus Christ, Joel, what happened to you?"

It's not just the blood. Sure, he's got dried streaks of it on his neck and in his hair. Ellie glances at his hands and sees it crusted under his fingernails, too. But he looks wrecked. Older, somehow. He looks like something terrible happened, the way she remembers his face when he fell from the balcony in Colorado, when he found her in the burning restaurant. But somehow it's worse.

He's looking at her like he can't believe she's real.

"Alright." Joel lowers the rifle and ignores her question, clearly. "Didn't see anythin'. Should be fine to sit here for a bit."

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck happened?"

He moves like he's going to drag a hand down his face but thinks better of it. "Yeah," he says. "I am."

Ellie swings her legs so they're hanging out the door. Joel leans the rifle against the truck and crosses his arms. "You're making me kind of nervous, man."

"Just...promise me you'll hear me out to the end."

Yeah, something is going on. She doesn't like it.

"Uh, sure."

"What do you remember?"

Good fucking question. "The tunnel. The bus and -- water. I fell in, right?"

Joel nods, clears his throat. "Jumpin' on the bus was dumb. Don't do that again."

She snorts. "Yeah, okay. Point taken. But I was afraid you were going to drown!"

"You did." He delivers the news in a flat tone she doesn't like. She drowned?

"Are you serious?"

"I got us out of the water and tried to get you breathin' again." Ellie realizes her chest is sore. She imagines Joel doing compressions like they showered her in school, imagines his panicked face, his hoarse voice calling her name. Fuck.

"Did it work?"

"No," he says. "Fireflies found us first and knocked me out."

"That doesn't make sense." She frowns. "They knocked you out?"

Joel shrugs. "Just tellin' you what happened."

This isn't how she imagined it would go. She never told Joel, but for weeks she's been thinking about waltzing up to the hospital and telling them who she is. She pictured Joel telling her jokes while she got her blood drawn, pictured him staring down nurses and doctors while they made the cure. She figured it would take a few days, maybe a week, and then they'd be on their way back to Jackson. She had hoped Marlene might be there, too. She has so many questions about her mom.

"What did they do with me?"

Joel looks troubled. "I...don't exactly know. It was a while before I saw you again."

It makes her skin crawl. He must be able to tell because he keeps talking. "I'm sure they just ran some tests while you were out. They brought you back, made sure you were breathin' okay."

"Tests?"

"I'm gettin' there." She feels like he's having a hard time looking at her. Something close to but not quiet dread sits heavy in her stomach. What happened?

"Joel..."

"I woke up inside the hospital. Marlene was there. Told me they didn't know it was us, that they'd been waiting." He pauses, drags a hand down his face. "You didn't wake up or nothin'? You sure?"

Ellie shakes her head. She doesn't remember anything after the tunnel.

"Well, she told me they could do it. They had a doctor who could make the cure."

The air rushes out of Ellie all at once. "Are you fucking serious?"

"And then she said..." Joel chews on his words and looks away from her. He looks angry.

"What did she say?"

"Makin' a vaccine...would've killed you."

The bottom drops out of Ellie's world. It's like a hundred doors in her brain open at once.

It would have killed her? Are they sure? Did they do enough tests? Were they going to? Why didn't they wake her up? Were they going to ask her? How did they get out?

She swallows them all and manages just one in a broken whisper. "What did you do?"

Joel looks right at her. "I stopped them."

If Ellie wasn’t already sitting down she thinks her legs would give out. She knows that Joel meant what he said to her in Silver Lake. Knows that he'd do anything for her.

But this?

"What do you mean?" He shakes his head. "Joel. What do you mean, you stopped them?"

His shoulders slump. "They told me to leave and I refused. And I made sure no one can follow us to try again."

Static builds in her ears. She can read between the lines. She speaks Joel now. He killed them all, that much is clear to her. He killed them all, Marlene, too, probably, because she was supposed to die to save the world. Hot tears sting her nose and gather at the corner of her eyes.

"But I -- but we -- I was supposed to...I'm the cure!"

"You're a person. You're a kid. Don't matter what's in your brain, you ain't dyin' for --"

Ellie pushes out of the truck and to her feet. Joel steps back to give her room but she knows he probably wants to touch her, to reassure her. The anger fills her, makes her face hot and her heart race.

"Who said you get to make that choice? If they said I had to die maybe I should have? Then it would mean something --"

"Your immunity ain't the thing that matters most. You are. So I picked you," Joel yells.

She's really crying now, huge heaving sobs that make it hard to talk, make it hard to convey how angry she is. "Well, you picked wrong, asshole."

"I ain't gonna apologize for it. I'd do it all over again, the exact same way. Every time." Joel's expression is as serious as it gets. He used to look this way all the time. No nonsense, no room for argument.

She tries to find the words anyway but they don't come.

"Now, you've got some options here," he says. "I think the best one is for us to go back to Jackson. I know Tommy'll take you in, and --

She laughs, or tries to.

It sounds like something bitter and awful to her own ears. First he tells her she was supposed to die today and now he wants to leave her?

"Are you fucking serious, Joel? You want to leave me again?"

Joel's brows pinch together. He looks pained. Good. It feels like her chest is caving in, like her lungs aren't working right anymore. This must be what it felt like to drown in the bus terminal, to sink slowly, to fade away entirely. She read once that drowning was supposed to be peaceful. This hurts.

"I want you to be safe," he says. "Jackson is the best place for that. I don't have to be there if you don't want me there --"

"I didn't fucking say that!" she yells. "I -- Jesus, give me a fucking second, okay?"

He stands by the door as she paces back and forth, tugging her hands through her hair.

She was supposed to die. But she didn't. There's no cure. And it sure fucking sounds like Joel didn't leave any option to try again.

He traded saving the world for her.

It's too much.

"What do you want, Ellie?" Joel sounds like he's been awake for days. Like he's in pain, like he's being hollowed out. He sounds like how she feels.

She digs the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"I want none of this to have happened! I want us to go back to this morning and I want us to not have gone into the bus tunnel and I want you to have asked for tests first, I want them to try something else. I want Marlene to tell me why they didn't wake me up. I want to do it again but differently, I want things to be different, I --"

Her words break off into a sob. "Ellie..." She opens her eyes and finds him reaching for her. His shirt is stained with dried blood but she steps into his hold and his arm wraps around her.

"I don't know what to do, now," she whispers.

Joel exhales a shaky breath. "I know you wish things were different. I wish things were different. But they ain't."

They stand there, his hand dragging up and down her back. She listens to his heartbeat and remembers those nights in the basement when she thought it would stop any minute.

"Fuck," she whispers, then pulls away. He lets her go. "Fuck, Joel."

He sighs. "Yeah, kiddo. Fuck."

He told her the truth and that means something. It hurts, it hurts so bad, and it doesn't absolve him of anything, but that matters.

"I'm so angry with you," she says. "I don't know how to forgive you for...for...saving me."

It sounds stupid as she says it but Joel nods solemnly.

"That's alright."

"But I..." She wants to get this part right. "Let's go back. To Jackson. We'll figure it out there. But you...you have to swear to tell me the truth. Just like this. We have to be honest with each other."

Joel meets her gaze without blinking. "I swear."

Ellie takes a deep breath. The anger, the horror, the disbelief at what he's done settle a little bit. She has no clue what comes next, but this is a start.

"Okay."

Joel wakes up.

His back hurts and his shoulder aches. It's dark, darker than it should be, darker than it's been for hundreds of days.

Ellie is asleep in the backseat of the truck.

It's tomorrow.

thank you for reading. let me know what you thought!

#the last of us fanfiction #i dont know how to tag this #the last of us #bea this is your fault!

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