#so here is one in my constant rotation

[whothefuckiskatlyn]

for when you’re making out covered in blood or whatever

#someone sent me an ask saying they miss when I post my playlists #so here is one in my constant rotation #go check it out and tell me what you think #music #mine #spotify playlists #888 #vampires #narrow head #interpol #motionless in white #slipknot #pixies #mr kitty #boy harsher #sleep token #a perfect circle #jah phnx #nine inch nails #social order #sisters of mercy #deftones #she pleasures herself #mareux #misfits #him #bad omens #godsmack #Alice in chains #silent planet

[perfectly-clear-from-here]

could we take a moment to appreciate my favourite tags out of context (all to do with milex cause guys. its me.)

(please feel free to reblog with your own ahh!!)

#god theyre so cute i feel sick #just snog already ffs #the miracle aligner music video changed my brain chemistry #please come home the kids miss you #personal vendetta with the camera man who cuts away while this is still going on #i dont envy anyone who has to interview these lads #miles miles miles fucking kane #feel like im interrupting something #dont understand how alex didnt just faint from the way miles looks at him in the 5th gif #whats going on here #miles looks like hes about to snog him senseless stop #miles in a kimono is my religion #at this point my tags are just questions that need to be answered #very good question miles #first time i watched the miracle aligner mv i genuinely thought they were about to snog #that clip is on constant rotation in my mind #the giggle on last resort is taking me out #convinced every single death ramps performance was followed with mindblowing sex and no one can change my mind #very subtle alex #you aint fooling anyone boys #how do they not just give in and snog? #i saw a post about how his outfits got more wild as the tour went on and honestly i blame the sex #miles is pure blowing their cover #not the only thing hes blowing by the sounds of it. #THANKYOU FOR LISTENING AHHH #milex

[kazumist]

COULD IF YOU WOULD .ᐟ

✩ — the two times aventurine referred to you as his "work wife" and the one time he seems to have left out the "work" part.

✩ — includes: aventurine x f!reader. fluff (?), crack. cw: ooc!aventurine probably, very messy and i kinda hate this piece LOL. wc: 820. reblogs are very much appreciated !!

✩ — note: trying to write aventurine as his usual self now and not some delusional hc that i have of him yay! (i went through hell and back writing this just to get the dialogue match his way of speaking.) pretend that the ipc holds company dinners btw 🥹.

you don’t really know how it started. but maybe it’s because your co-workers tease you both too much about how you and aventurine act like an “old married couple” due to your constant banter, or maybe it’s because of aventurine’s (annoying) flirtatious remarks towards you.

however with the constant jokes and all, even aventurine got infected because there’s times when he would refer to you as his “work wife” as well. the first was when you were out at a company dinner. working in the same department with aventurine didn’t really help your… predicament, but for some reason, it wasn’t so bad.

“so how are you two love birds doing?” a co-worker asked, clearly drunk from the way they slurred their words and how red their face was slowly getting. aventurine just laughs at them—casually swinging an arm and resting it on the back of your chair. “my work wife here seems to be doing well, right?” he glances at you, a whiskey glass in hand, as he rotates it with his wrist. he was simply met with a glare in return. people wouldn’t care if you responded anyway because they’re too drunk to even remember this in the morning.

the second time was when you two got stuck in an elevator ride. and the worst part? aventurine purposely pressed at least four floors below your destination on the panel just so he could chat with you. “wouldn’t it be a nice idea to ditch work for today?” he asks, his eyes focused on both of your reflections from the elevator’s doors.

“you’re insane.”

“my dearest work wife, you wound me! i was simply asking you out.”

“no one would ever agree if you asked them in that way.” you refused to make eye contact with him.

“if i asked normally, then where’s the fun in that?”

when the elevator hit the current floor, you made your exit despite the floor not being your destination yet. 

of course, he had called or referred to you as his “work wife” many more times than this. however, as for the third one, it was when you were assigned to work with aventurine to dig up some information in a bar of sorts. a bar is quite a dangerous place in general, but you both had no choice but to split up so work would be faster.

that is, until you started being pestered by some stranger at the bartender’s counter.

no matter how many times you told him to go away (in reality, you really wanted him to go fuck off already), he was just being too persistent. but you couldn’t do anything because it would most definitely cause a scene—and you don’t want that. it was starting to suffocate you, how the stranger kept getting closer.

“dear, who is this?” you knew that voice from anywhere. you looked over to your side and saw aventurine next to you, already wrapping his arm around your waist as he looked at the stranger from head to toe. after telling him that you had no idea, you swore you could’ve seen his jaw clench for a quick second. playing along was mandatory with how the situation is turning now, even if aventurine had to pretend that he was actually your partner (well, technically, he is your partner for this assignment).

“who knew that there was actually someone indecent enough to hit on someone’s wife?” it was weird. you always felt icked by how aventurine kept calling you his “work wife." but this time, it was weird. and you hate it.

because you had a revelation that you liked the fact aventurine called you his wife at this very moment.

aventurine has a way with words. he always does; he knows what to say to rile up someone—to provoke them. it was no surprise that the stranger became another one of aventurine’s victims when it came to his provocative terms. yet, it was all over in a blink of an eye because the guy retreated. (you weren’t able to understand what aventurine specifically said to him, but does it really matter at this point?)

“are you alright?” he asks. 

“yeah. thank you.”

“how about we hit the hay for tonight? i managed to gather some information anyway.”

“agree, i was able to catch some as well.”

“really now? we make a great team, don’t we?”

“don’t let it get to your head, aventurine.”

he chuckles. “i was serious, though.” you look at him, confused. “about…?” aventurine leans to your ear and whispers low: “we could actually get married if you would let me do the honors of asking for your hand.”

thwack!

“ow! hey! i was only kidding! okay maybe i wasn’t but—hey! that actually hurts a lot now!” he yelps as you slap him by the shoulder repeatedly. “you’re insane, i tell you!”

maybe being called aventurine's work wife had its perks after all.

#( writings ) #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine #x reader

[janeyseymour]

I Wouldn't Tell Anyone

based off of that tiktok trend: "i wouldn't tell anyone i won the lottery, but there'd be signs".

WC: ~2.75k

Melissa Schemmenti has worked at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School for years. And in those years, the one constant in her life has been Barbara Howard. The two had started the same year, and while many things have changed, their friendship would never. No, Melissa had watched as Barbara married Gerald, witnessed the woman’s growing belly as she carried both of her daughters, had seen the ups and downs in the Howard family. And likewise, Barbara had been there to see the marriage to Joe, the divorce of Joe, the lean years… and everything in between. They’ve seen the way that teachers come and go, children grow up before their very eyes, and at this point they’ve taught children of students that they had in the starting years. Teaching practices have grown and changed- it’s really an ever-evolving world that they live in.

The second grade teacher had a solid wardrobe that she kept in rotation over the years- really just a few blazers, her signature leather jacket, the same shirt in various colors, a few pairs of slacks and jeans, and of course her heeled boots that she wore everyday without fail.

“Melissa,” Barbara had asked one day. “Perhaps you and I should hit the mall? I know some great places that have wonderful clearance sections.”

“Are you tellin’ me I need to change out my wardrobe?” the redhead teased as she threw her bag over her shoulder.

“You know that is not what I am saying, woman,” Barb rolled her eyes. “But I see the way that your shirts are starting to wear thin. I also need an outfit for the end of the year banquet that this damned superintendent is forcing me to go to.”

“When you’re part of a committee, you have to go to that kind of stuff,” the second grade teacher had smirked. “Why you think I ain’t a part of all that?”

Even after the two of them hit it off, going to the mall whenever they found themselves with enough money to spare to treat themselves to a shopping spree, Melissa’s outfits still mostly circulate without fail. 

Years pass, and then she meets you one night while she’s out at the bar. She walks in, and you’re captivated. You don’t know what draws you to her, but whatever it is is magical. Your eyes hardly leave her stunning figure as she dances. You know that by the end of the night, you have to at least attempt to make a move on her.

And you do when she decides to take a break from dancing to come over to the bar. Conveniently, the only opening is by where you’re sitting and nursing a margarita.

By some grace of God, she’s been watching you too- trying to figure out how to start a conversation with you over the loud music and people dancing all around you.

She saunters up to the spot that you’re at and smiles at you. Wow… her smile is radiant.

“How come a pretty girl like you ain’t out there dancing with someone?”

“Just came here after a hard day at work,” you shrug. “Wanted a marg, thought maybe the music and drinks would brighten my spirit.”

“Well, you got the marg,” she gestures to your half empty glass. “Why don’t I buy you another, and then we can listen to the music together?”

“I’m sure you have friends here that wouldn’t want me crashing.”

“I’m here alone,” the redhead reveals. “The name’s Melissa. And you are?”

“Y/N,” you tell her.

“Well, Y/N, why don’t you let me buy you a drink, and we can be alone… together.”

You end up getting her number as you part ways for the night, and simply text her when you get home that night, time and place.

She’s just walked into her own house when your text comes through. How does Renata’s Kitchen at 5:30 on Tuesday sound?

I have to wait tomorrow and Monday to see you?

I mean, I could grab a coffee tomorrow after church if you’d rather that, the redheaded beauty sends.

You send her the address of your favorite coffee place, which just so happens to be hers as well. You wonder if the two of you have ever run into each other and just not known it at the time.

The outing for coffee ends up being an entire day’s worth of just walking around the city together as you chat about life. You find out that she’s a second grade teacher at one of the local schools and that she has Sunday dinners with her family every week (that is actually the only reason she has to regretfully leave you that day) among many other things. She finds out that you work for one of the local law firms down the street from Abbott, ironically enough. How have the two of you never bumped into each other, or at least seen each other? You get to your place of work at the same time as she does, you’ve both gone down to the same Wawa at the same time for lunch because your lunch hours coincide, and she quite literally walks past your firm to get to happy hour specials with her coworkers.

Once she leaves you to head to her family dinner, she texts you to let you know that she would still love to do dinner with you on Tuesday. You excitedly reply that you would be absolutely delighted. 

The two of you have been going out for quite some time now, and it’s quite funny that you’ve both kept it on the down low. You’re a bit concerned that while courtrooms have progressed with society that if your relationship were to become public, it could get in the way of cases. And she, similarly is nervous that she could face backlash at the school she works for for being in a homosexual relationship. So, neither of you have said anything to your coworkers. And it’s all going swimmingly. While you had both just stumbled upon each other one night at the bar, not expecting to find each other, here you are two years later as a happy couple.

You land the case of a lifetime, one where you could make a decent profit off of your already relatively high paying salary. On top of that, you know that you’re about to be promoted after working with this firm for the last five years.

You end up winning the case, bringing in some good money, and then you’re moving up the ladder and finding yourself with more cash outflow than you know what to do with at the moment. It’s too much for you, living in a small apartment in the city by yourself with nothing else to worry about. So, when your girlfriend comes over to your apartment for dinner, you propose something.

“Mel?” you ask as she stands at your stovetop. She hums to let you know that she’s listening, but her eyes stay trained on the vegetables that she’s chopping right now. “How would you feel if we moved in together?”

The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board halts, and she turns to face you. “What?”

“We’ve been together for almost two years,” you tell her. “I just got that nice promotion, plus a huge payout from the settlement with DuBoise, so… I was thinking maybe we could move in together? Find a nice townhouse somewhere in the city and settle into our lives together?”

About a million emotions flicker through the redhead’s face before it settles on a smile. “I think that might be a good idea.”

So, after months of looking, you both say goodbye to your small apartments and are able to move into a beautiful townhouse in Queen Village. When Melissa files the paperwork to change her address for paychecks, Ava comes flying into the staff lounge with her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.

“Uh, ahem,” the principal coughs out and raises her brows, waving the paperwork in front of the second grade teacher during lunch.

“What?” your girlfriend grumbles as she grades a few papers and shoves a forkful of her salad into her mouth.

“Since when did you move?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” Melissa shrugs.

Barbara’s brows furrow. She wasn’t aware her friend was moving house. “Oh, Melissa. Could you not afford the place anymore?”

“Girl, she upgraded big time! Went from living in the slums to a three bedroom townhouse in Queen Village!”

“Queen Village?” the kindergarten teacher repeats.

Again, the redhead just shrugs.

“Melissa, how did you manage that? I know what you make, and there is no way you could afford to live somewhere like that!” Janine cuts in.

“Can it, pipsqueak,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “Let’s just say… I have my ways.”

Nobody is brave enough to ask the mob-like woman what the hell that could even mean.

“Well, when do we get to see the place?” Jacob tries to invite himself over.

Green eyes glare over at the man. “If I can help it, never.”

“Oh c’mon, Mel Mel,” Jacobs whines out. “I lived with you at one point! Why can’t we come see your new place?”

“At the time, I did not know it was you,” the redhead huffs. “And then you moved out on me.”

“Because I found 

The second grade teacher blows out a breath. “Maybe once I have it all furnished and put together.”

So, once the two of you have the place put together for the most part, the Abbott clan makes their way over while you’re out of town for a convention that you were forced to go to.

To say that the crew is beyond impressed is an understatement.

“Melissa, this is beautiful,” Barbara compliments.

“How? How?” is all Jacob and Janine can stutter out.

The redhead just smirks. “I know a guy.”

They leave not knowing that the guy that she knows is you- her girlfriend of almost two and a half years at this point. And because it’s you, and you have an unwavering love for Melissa, the house is impeccable and everything she could ever want it to. You take good care of her.

Since moving in together, Melissa’s meals have only become more extravagant. With both of your finances almost entirely combined at this point, you spoil her with the best foods and ingredients that you can get her at any moment. So when she comes into the staff room with way fancier dishes for her lunch, it raises a few eyebrows. The teachers have seen Melissa stretch a dollar like a big headed baby stretches a… the redhead smirks.

“I know a guy,” is all she offers up.

The eyebrows of her coworkers only creep further up her head when she comes in with leftovers from one of the nicest restaurants in the city- a place known nationally for the delicate dishes and absolutely delectable desserts.

She’s eating the extra slice of cheesecake the two of you had brought home when Janine leans over. “How’d you get that?”

“I know a guy.”

“You sure seem to know a lot of guys.”

They have no idea that there are not multiple people- you are almost singlehandedly responsible for the lavish lifestyle that your girlfriend suddenly leads. 

Somehow, Melissa is forced to go to one of the banquet dinners that the district is holding because she’s hit a milestone in her teaching, and they’re highlighting her. So, of course Barb offers to go with her to try to find something nice to wear to the dinner that she too will be attending.

“Oh, I think I actually have an outfit,” the redhead refutes the offer. “But thank you.”

“Girl, you never turn down an opportunity to go out shopping,” the kindergarten teacher raises a brow.

“I just… know a guy that already bought me an outfit.”

Melissa shows up to the event looking like a million bucks, and Barbara almost can’t believe it. The redhead’s hair is curled to perfection, the dress that she’s in has clearly been tailored to accentuate all of her curves and to be the proper length. The shoes that she’s wearing are not the black heeled boots Barbara is so used to seeing her work wife wear- no, instead she’s got on a pair of heels that have to be at least two hundred dollars if the kindergarten teacher had to guess. 

Of course, their picture gets snapped and is posted to the school website a few days later. 

At lunch, while Janine is eating and on her laptop, her eyes go wide. “Melissa!”

“What?”

“You looked beautiful the other night!”

“Thanks, kid.”

“How did you get all of that?”

“I know a guy.”

Jacob moves his chair so he too can get a look.

“Melissa, that is…” he thinks to himself quietly. “At least a six hundred dollar look! For a school event? Girl, where are you getting all of this stuff?!”

“I told youse, I know a guy.”

It’s a weekend when the Abbott crew decides to get together, and they all have plans to go to Barbara’s house for game night, but Gerald gets sick and they can no longer use the Howard residence.

“Well, I guess we should cancel,” Melissa sighs as they’re all leaving the school that day.

“What if we just came to your place?” the kindergarten teacher asks. “It’s the only other space big enough to accommodate us all.”

Begrudgingly, the second grade teacher agrees. As everyone is on their way over, she calls you.

“Hello?”

“Hey hun,” she says softly. “So… change in plans for tonight.”

“Oh? Do I get you all to myself tonight?”

“Not exactly…” the redhead trails off. “We’re moving game night to our house.”

“Oh,” you say softly, your face dropping as you thumb through papers in your office.

“Yeah,” she hums.

“I mean, I guess I can go out to dinner with my mom or something to pass the-”

“What if we just… came out? At least just to the crew,” your girlfriend suggests quietly.

You mull that option over for a few seconds. “Y-yeah. If you’re ready for that.”

“I am if you are.”

“I can pick up dinner,” you tell her. “I should be out of here by 5:30, and then I can head over to grab some food before coming home.”

“There’s…” she counts in her head. “eight of us.”

“Eight?”

“Somehow Mr. J wormed himself into this get together,” Melissa laughs softly. “Something about getting the band back together- whatever the hell that means. 

Once you’re free from work, you head over to one of the nicer restaurants in the city, and because you and Melissa have become frequent flyers there, they’re able to oblige your request for a few trays of food. You leave a generous tip before packing the food into your car and making your way back to your townhouse. 

Upon pulling in, you take a few deep breaths before gathering your briefcase and the food and making your way to the door.

When you push it open, all eyes are on you.

“Hey,” you sigh as you kick off your shoes and head for the kitchen table to put down all the food.

“Melissa, you didn’t tell us you have a roommate, never mind a hot one!” Ava grins.

The redhead just rolls her eyes before glaring. That glare is gone though once you make your way back into the living room and sit down next to your girlfriend.

“Hey babe,” you smile at her before kissing her cheek softly.

“Babe?” Barbara’s eyes go wide. “Melissa Ann, do you have a girlfriend?”

The redhead just smirks. “Oh, did I not mention that I am happily in a relationship and have been for two and a half years?”

“Wait a minute,” Mr. Johnson furrows his brows and looks you over. “Ain’t you one of those fancy lawyers that works at the firm down the street from Abbott?”

You nod. “Hi. I’m Y/N.” You cordially shake everybody’s hand with a kind smile.

“Wait,” Janine pieces it all together. “Is this why you moved and could afford this place? Why your meals have gotten a lot fancier, and how you could afford the clothes you wore to the dinner the other night?”

Melissa just nods. “I guess you could say… I won the lottery with this one.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Human's greatest hatred

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Announcer: Welcome back to Fibnar’s most popular talk show

Crowd: NOMAR’S CORNER!!!!

Announcer: And here’s our host, NOMAR!

*Nomar slithers on stage, waves at camera and crowd*

Nomar: So nice to have a live audience for a change.

Nomar: Last rotation we taped in front of a crowd of Cyberdiams and I swear they were so quiet I could hear the electricity running through their circuits.

Audience: *Laughs*

Nomar: Tonight we have a real treat for you all with our first guest Holland Mackavich, author of the latest best seller “The mind of humanity”.

Nomar: Now I want to tell you all that Mr. Mackavich is in fact a human and it took a hell of a lot of effort to get him here tonight.

*Audience murmurs*

Nomar: That’s right.

Nomar: We had to offer him everything we had in the fridge and one of our interns as a sacrifice.

*Shocked audience*

Nomar: Don’t worry about the intern; we drew a smiley face on a lamp and said they were part of an exchange program.

*Audience laughs*

Nomar: Now let’s bring out our guest, Mr. Mackavich!

*Mackavich walks on stage and smiles at crowd before shaking Nomar’s hands and sitting down*

Nomar: Thanks for coming out tonight.

Mackavich: You know I could hear all of that back stage, right?

Nomar: Oh come now; you’re not upset about a few jabs are you?

Mackavich: Of course not.

Mackavich: You’re right about human’s being rather hungry.

Mackavich: In fact your wife invited me out to dinner later tonight.

Nomar: What?

Mackavich: She said she wanted to get a hold of some special man meat herself.

Audience: Ooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Nomar: *Forced chuckle* Well played.

*Nomar holds up book*

Nomar: Now you’re best seller here is doing well with non-humans as it tells them how your kind think and act.

Mackavich: That’s true.

Nomar: Aren’t you afraid this would be used by, say, military leaders?

Mackavich: My people are still here, so clearly they’re not reading it right.

Nomar: Well I have read this book, and it’s a great book.

Nomar: But there’s one thing I wanted to ask you that isn’t mentioned in your book.

Mackavich: Ask away.

Nomar: What species in the galaxy do humans hate the most?

Nomar: Is it the Fellions and their constant staring eyes? Or maybe the-

Mackavich: *Laughs*

Nomar: Do you find this funny?

Mackavich: A little bit, yeah.

Mackavich: Here I was preparing for hard questions and you give me the easiest one.

Nomar: Really?

Nomar: So who do human’s hate the most?

Mackavich: Humans.

Nomar: Excuse me?

Mackavich: Humans most hated species in the galaxy are other humans.

Nomar: Well…..that was…ah…that was not what I was expecting.

#humans are insane #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #funny

[morallyinept]

Candles - A Joel Miller Birthday One Shot

Summary: It's your birthday and you're convinced that Joel has forgotten. Or worse, that he's hiding something from you.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 4.8k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Smutty - Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!) Angst & Joel being a miserable bastard on your birthday.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

Author’s Note: Written for my birthday. Completely self-indulgent; Joel's the best gift, right? For anyone else celebrating their birthday today, I'm sending you the biggest smooch. 💋🖤

Check out my other birthday story, featuring Frankie Morales, called Birthday Cake.

MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Joel doesn't like birthdays.

His birthday, September twenty-sixth, was the day the whole world went to shit. Outbreak day.

He lost Sarah on his birthday. His watch stopped when he was shot at, so he can't be sure if it was still his birthday or not, but that day and the events are ingrained in his mind, carved into the blood smeared bone in the back of his skull.

The root of all of his resentment at how he failed to stick a bullet in himself and hold his sweet Sarah again in the afterlife.

Even before the world fell, birthdays were just another day. Another brick in the wall. But they matter to you; bending his ear constantly about imaginary scenarios and the types of things you’d do if you still could celebrate it.

He wants to tell you to quit harpin' on 'bout it, but he's not cruel, despite that reputation preceding him.

Ordinarily, your excitement at such a trivial thing of adding rings to your tree trunk would give him some morsel of joy, but not when it serves a harshly confronting reminder of everything he's lost.

He remains stoic and focused, unreadable. Life and constant, crushing hardship has turned Joel into a shell of the man he once was. He knows no peace, alienated from calm.

The ink is running off the pages in his book that you thought you could read so well in the early days. The chirpy rambling from your mouth soon dips and you withdraw, keeping schtum about it further when you see the hackles of his shoulders rise.

Your birthday has been on the approach for some time now, layers of carbonic dread forming under the skin as the days move closer and closer towards it, and it's evident that Joel doesn't share your enthusiasm.

And Joel, although resolute in his usual steeliness, seems more distracted as of late too.

The lights are on, but there’s no-one home when he looks at you anymore. Conversation has been reduced to annoyed grunts and the three-sixty roll of his eyeballs clacking around in his sockets more so than usual.

And it’s all reduced to ash as the uninvited thoughts begin to infect and plague you about the possible root cause.

You ask him, one gloomy afternoon as the rain pelts against the grubby pane in your shared apartment in the QZ. Joel invited you into his home in the embryonic stage of your courting. Cleared some space through the little that he has to accommodate you and slot you into his life this past year. Made room for you in his bed.

You struggle sometimes to remember what life was like without him, as cliché as it sounds. Almost a full, singular rotation around the sun and yet Joel feels ingrained in your blood, kindred.

So why do you feel so sick to your gut right now?

He’s pulling on his boots, a low grumble heard when he leans forward and he feels his back crack with the strain. You’re getting ready mentally for him to depart from you for a few days on a scouting run, and it gets harder each time he leaves.

“Joel, is everything okay?” You ask him, looking at him through the reflection in the glass from behind you, with eyes that tell you he knows that you know something is up with him.

More so than his usual grouchy self that you find endearing despite the fluctuating temperance. That a part of him isn’t functioning properly like it used to, and the thought of that - that you can see that so plainly when he tries his damndest to hide it from you - is disconcerting to say the very least.

What else are you hiding from me, Joel?

“What d’ya mean?” He asks, his eyes and thick fingers focused on battling with small knots that aren’t made for giant hands.

“Us.” You say tentatively like it's a foreign word in your mouth.

Taboo to announce it out loud; you've both never confirmed it wholly. It's always been assumed that you're his and he's yours.

You look at the bleak, grey of the outside world. A gated world that’s incredibly small, and getting smaller as the intrepid seconds wear on.

Questions, thoughts and images; all blinking through you trying to piece it all together whilst you move stagnantly through a heavy swamp of confusion. The exact truth is staring you in the face, but try as you might to refute it; it’s plainly obvious and it begins to terrify you in new ways.

He’s pulling away from you, has been for some time now.

You can feel it in your bones as they twist and contort under your skin mercilessly. Invading your dreams and depriving you of any sleep. Nightmarish images invade tenfold of a face you know, yet don’t at the same time.

Renegade tears make themselves acknowledged, at the most inconvenient of times, and there’s only so long you can convince Joel that it’s nothing or that of a pre-menstrual crisis starting, so he’d immediately back off.

He never pushes, never probes. And it's as equally welcome as it is frustrating at times.

Emotionally you’re a wreck and you need it to stop, or for certain realisation to bear its face to Joel. It’s been a lengthy waiting game. Teetering on the edge to realisation, although part of you already knows.

He just doesn't know how to tell you. How to break your heart. And it’s worse somehow, because he’s forcing you to do it instead.

“Ya bein’ stupid.” He says, finished with the tirade of mumbles and grunts directed at the laces, and stands.

You don’t say anything to him when he asks you to explain your odd behaviour in not so many words. Instead, you stand there, forehead propped against the mottled window, steaming up from your breath, and not facing him, sulking like a prepubescent teenager being scolded for staying out too late by an overbearing father.

You can see he’s growing testy and this irks you further. Should you finally go there, omit the truth and deal with the chips wherever they may fall? Would that even be possible?

You have to tell him what's swirling a cyclone in your mind, whether it's absurd or not, right?

His broad frame in the window reflects back at you. Stepped forward and closer now so he’s looming almost. You begin to inadvertently cower into yourself a little, arms encapsulating for warmth and reassurance, and you’re sure he’s noticed because he seems to grow in height, feeding off your inward distress. His eyes are piercing and his mouth is that thin, hard line again.

He tells you you're being stupid, but it does little to cease the heavy gnawing.

Sighing, he gathers his jacket and pack. The rifle resting on the table from cleaning it most of the early hours of the morning - and not spent in bed with you - is swept up in his hands.

He hasn't touched me in so long…

He must have observed your realisations no doubt, surely the man cannot be so blind to the plight and tension you feel when you're under his nose?

And if he took pleasure in seeing your mind switch back and forth from an aurora of amplified emotions, he certainly hid it fucking well from you.

Joel turns to you before he disappears outside the door. You cling onto a desperate hope for a moment that he’ll leave something soft to accompany you; give you some affirmative reassurance and confirm that your stupidity, is in fact, that.

But he doesn’t.

He simply shuts the door behind him and leaves you floundering. Your eyes prickle, but the tears don’t fall.

You’ve cried enough now over Joel Miller.

Your birthday arrives, the dawn spent waking up in the bed alone without Joel’s warmth suffocating you; his tan skin sticking you to him.

You can't remember the last time he was inside you. A part of you.

Despite wanting to indulge in dysania, to sink into a despair that's been riding shotgun with you for a while, you will yourself up to continue with the monotony.

The day is spent as though meandering through a blur, your body robotically doing the things you’re supposed to, but your mind not being fully coherent.

Get up, eat a little something bland, exist… and so on. It's just another day. You don't even know why you expected anything different. You're foolish for even thinking it.

Your brain ticks continuously whilst your limbs belong to those of the infected that try to ravage you any chance they get beyond the walls of the QZ.

But what about those unanswered questions and coincidences floating around the apartment and jabbing you in the temple?

Joel’s disappearing acts and seeing him weary and more dishevelled when he did eventually reappear again? It's difficult to accept that you're replaceable. That the space you once fit in has been filled by something else.

Someone else, perhaps?

Your stomach lurches and you barely make it to the bathroom before you bring up all your fears and watch in numb disgust as they flush away. Piecing it all together to make any sense is a doom filled thought.

You're tired. You've had enough. You only succeed in confusing yourself further and are rewarded with a brewing migraine. And as you throw yourself onto the bed to get some rest to quell the ache behind your eyelids, you conclude that you now utterly despise birthdays.

Confronting him has to be the only option, but bravery’s lost to you; hidden away under the dank comforter, pulled up tight over its head, refusing to surface.

You're in the shower later that evening, washing away the day, when Joel returns from the scouting run.

You hear the sounds of the door rattle and his heavy sighs, even over the water flooding your ears.

But as you come out, hair dripping down your shoulders, he’s already left abruptly again, sealing you in with once more the claws of your festive loneliness.

You make you both some supper. A few cans he’d left on the table with peeling stickers and some without. The smell turns your stomach as you stare down at two plates of uneaten food that had long since gone cold and wonder how the fuck you've got here.

It's late when he comes back, startled somewhat to find you still sitting at the table. Glancing down at the food, his eyes soften and then they find yours, vacuous and empty.

You're not even pissed at him anymore.

Before he acknowledges you, you freeze momentarily and can’t abnegate yourself from looking at him, as much as you want to avoid it. But each time you falter, his hatchet eyes are staring right back at you, sending prickles all down your back.

The comprehension is a difficult task itself, but you're fruitless in your attempt to disentangle it all, even if you aren't going to be the victor in this battle that you're bound to lose.

You're going to lose him.

Perhaps you already have. You want to remember his face, so you take it all in as he hovers by the door; a large hand twisting and groping at the knob unconsciously as it squeaks around the crush of it, a nervous tick.

He’s anxious, worried. He wants this to be quick and painless. As do you.

Even if Joel has completely no idea what's been happening, surely he had to know how this situation cuts you open, how you're bleeding onto the floor.

How can he not see it?

You feel no animosity towards him at this precise moment, which confuses you further, but more of a sense of intrusion. You aren't ready for this now that he's actually here.

Joel's reaction is unguarded and you can see him looking at you, somewhat askance, around the crinkled edges of his eyes. You soften a little and let him have a final smile from you.

Something for him to remember you by.

“I have somethin’ I wanna show ya.” He says, quietly to you.

You look at him carefully as you baulk.

“What is it?” You question, suspiciously.

“Just… c'mon.” He holds out his hand, an olive branch, and you stand.

You don't take it as you follow him out into the scabby hall where the wallpaper peels and the carpet still has that burnt umber stain of blood from decades ago.

He leads you towards the stairway, heading up them and you follow, still confused.

Once you reach the top floor of the building, and the door that leads out onto the roof, Joel slightly out of breath as he rests for a second, he instructs you to close your eyes.

“Keep ‘em closed.” He murmurs to you and you feel his hand inside yours now.

Skin on skin. It makes you audibly gasp at the warmth of his touch and you remember how he feels as it tugs the remaining strangled beats out of your heart.

Joel’s hands are always warm, even if he wields death about so freely with them. You feel his grip tighten in yours, guiding you down the stone steps out onto the roof where the cool air of the dark autumnal night pierces through your thin, moth-eaten sweater.

“You’re not planning on pushing me off the roof, are you?” You snicker. But it would be a kindness, considering.

You have your other arm out in front, feeling your way, blindly.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Joel mutters. There’s a smile inside of his words; you can hear it, although his tone is hard like granite. You miss that smile.

Your feet are clumsy as you step and you wobble.

“I got ya.” He steadies you, his other hand on your hip and the feel of it makes your skin burn up in a corona. It strips you of your breath.

He stops and lets go of you completely after a few more steps.

“Y’can open ‘em now.” Joel whispers to you. You can feel his breath against your ear and it leaves you feeling warm despite the nip in their air at the new altitude on the roof.

Despite the fact that you're slowly dying.

You take a breath. A slow breath to steady your nerves. You're not sure you're ready for it. Perhaps if you can keep them closed, it will never happen.

You won't have to watch him walk away.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing when you finally open them, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

But it's anything but. It stuns you.

The roof is lit with candles; hundreds of them, maybe even a thousand there's so many. All various sizes, thicknesses, colours and in different states of burn, casting eerie, yet brilliant shadows across the brick walls.

They trail all the way across the rooftop towards you. Flickering in the gentle night’s breeze, it invokes an immediate tranquil state within you, and the warmth emanating from this gloaming wonder is enough to stop the prickles on your skin almost instantly.

"Joel..." you murmer, perplexed.

It must have taken him ages to set this up, and you’re momentarily lost for words in the confusion that makes itself known at the back of your throat in dumb astonishment.

Joel watches as you walk amongst them, slowly taking it all in and holding your palms out to feel their warmth kissing at your fingertips.

The surprise and wonder spreads out on your face as you turn back to him in wordless disbelief.

“Made it with a few seconds to spare.” He glances at his watch, then realises it’s still broken, still a constant, crushing reminder strapped to his wrist, and then beholds you with a crooked smile melting away.

You look back at him, with a frown starting to topple your awe.

“Ya thought I forgot,” Joel confirms.

You shake your head. “No. Just thought you didn’t care about it, is all.”

He steps forward to you, the flames flickering all around you both. “I care 'bout you.”

You feel your heart stop beating for a second. “You didn’t have to do this...”

“I wanted to. I know m'a grouch and-”

“Joel. Stop talking.” The low timbre of his voice jars you. It's gentle in its gruffness. And it’s too much as your eyes well up without your control, without your say so.

“Hey,” he turns your head to him, to face him head on. His thumbs smoothing across your cheeks as you grip onto his thick wrists.

“I thought-”

“I know what ya thought. S’not gonna happen, okay?” He says earnestly and for the first time in what feels like a long time, Joel pulls those inane fears out of you and stamps on them until they’re all dead.

You nod, sniffing the tears back with all your might, but they fall in your stringent relief anyway.

“C’mere,” he crushes you into his stacked chest, the soft ebb of his heartbeat the only sound you can hear as it clears out the dusty crevices of your mind.

You pull away to marvel and feel the balminess from the candles all over your body.

“See, it’s things like this that make me believe you’re human after all,” you whisper in complete awe.

He frowns. “Ya wrong ‘bout that.”

You scoff. “Are you kidding me? Look at this, Joel. At what you did, for me. It’s... amazing. Are you seriously going to tell me that a monster would do that for someone, because I don’t believe that?”

He can see the reflection of a thousand or so candles in your eyes, twinkling back at him like glitter.

After being lost in them momentarily, he rubs up and down your arms with his hands.

“Y'don’t believe in monsters, do ya? Even when the world's full of 'em?” He questions carefully.

“Not in the slightest. People are just people.” You reply. Although some of them admittedly more fucked up than others.

“What 'bout people who do bad things?”

You look at him sincerely. And it makes more sense now. There's still a wall there. “They’re still people.”

Joel absorbs your answer, the answer you always give him when he gets like this. When he needs you to convince him there's still good in the world, because you're good.

When he feels unworthy.

“D’you believe that a man can ever be changed of his ways?” Joel asks.

“People can always change, if they really want to. Why?”

“Hypothetical question.” He replies, quickly.

“Do you really believe that you’re a monster, Joel?” You ask him carefully.

You watch as he kicks up a piece of grit on the ground repeatedly, unsure of whether he'd heard you at first.

“Y’don’t," he begins and makes his way back after losing it for a second. "Y'don't make me feel like one.” He mutters with rust in his throat.

You take his hands, those giant, calloused paws inside your own and squeeze them until he can’t feel them anymore.

He looks at you, and it bothers him more than it should do - more than he would have liked it to - the thought of you at home alone, especially on your birthday, thinking that he was going to leave you as he was filling his pack full of all the candles he could scavenge in and around the QZ.

Months of planning and keeping this from you, and you thought he was going to say goodbye. Surely that's monstrous, for him to have allowed it to get so bad.

He failed you. He made you feel unworthy. And that doesn't sit right with Joel Miller.

He watches as you stare a while at the candles, flickering in the night’s air with the inviting sound of silence to accompany you both.

No thrashing heartbeat, no thudding of blood pulsing in your ears. No static.

Just a strange peace, which has seemingly gorged on all the confusion, all the angst and fears that had been mounting within you for so long.

He goes to speak, clears his throat of the block, and then chokes on his words as he tries to assimilate them together into something coherent, something meaningful.

You turn to him sensing his unease and it equally fascinates and infuriates him that you can do that; that you can put him at ease to get them out without sounding like a bumbling fool.

You sense that what he wants to say will be relevant and would give you what you need, but you never expect him to say, in all your remotest dreams or fears:

“I love ya.”

He’s known it for a while. Felt that this was more than just two people surviving and fucking together through the dark nights to feel anything more than just pain and existing.

Joel had poked his head in the bathroom one evening, watching as you’d showered after a rough day and a close call; your body mottled with dirt and bruises and he’d felt it then.

That overpowering need to protect you. To keep the bad things at bay, even if that meant he had to do some bad things in exchange. His soul was a fair price to trade to keep you by his side. And what's love, if it's not protection?

Helping you out with a towel ready for you, bubbles splodged all up your back and glistening at him, he realised that perhaps he was falling in love with you.

He didn't want to be in love with you though. He wanted to keep you at bay, to not let you in under the layers of his skin. Not let you unravel what was left of him; a small thread wound so close to the spool.

Love would make protecting you that much more difficult.

He was never confident in negotiating all the social interactions that came with dating, especially in this world now. It was foolish to bear your heart because at any point it could be ripped away and eaten.

But with you? His heart was always on his sleeve, soaking it damp in his blood. Whatever this was between you, it felt easy somehow, like breathing.

Joel could finally breathe.

There was no choice in falling for you. And Joel never wanted to make another choice ever again.

You reach up on your tiptoes and place a gentle kiss on his mouth; revelling in the feel of his mustache and greying scruff tickling soft at your face.

A feeling that if you never got to experience again, the way it leaves lightning streaking through your blood, would kill you.

You slip your tongue into his mouth and he welcomes you in, squeezing you closer to him and groaning around your taught gums. You lick gently across his bottom lip before taking it in your teeth and pulling deep growls from him.

“M’trying to be a gentleman here, darlin’. But if y’keep doing that, I’m fuckin’ ya up against the wall.”

His breath trips up in his throat and your body soars at his warning as it rolls acrid and sharp off his tongue into your mouth, forcing you to taste his cavities. To taste his promises.

He still wants you, he’ll always want you despite your stupid neuroses.

You bite and suck his lip again deliberately, and he growls.

"Ya leavin' me very little recourse."

“I love you, Joel.” You gasp as your hands grapple and devour him just as hungrily. Breathing out like a balloon losing its helium, you pant and moan for more air; for more of him.

He’s quick, like steam; power marching you backwards and your back hits the brickwork, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

The shadows of the night dance over his hard facial features and he glows ethereal at you from the candlelight illuminating his left side. A constant ying-yang of who he is and you want both sides of him, forever.

You want the distant and the present. You want the soft and the rough. You just want him.

"Say it again" he hisses.

"I love you-"

He silences you with a swamping kiss. Joel’s wilder now; like a rabid dog drooling all over you. His hands are clawing, groping and squeezing.

Quick, desperate fingers stripping you of your jeans and unbuttoning his own at the same time; a messy blur of his hands as you stay glued to his lips and taste the notes of his tongue.

He massages the soft fat of your buttocks, malleable warm flesh in his giant hands as he kneads gently with thumbs that’ll bruise. You can feel his cock pushing hard and swollen against your slit as he moves your ass back and forth, pulling you closer to his body.

Closer to the broken fragments of his soul.

"Joel…" you whine into his mouth with pathetic need, fingers curling into the hair at his nape.

"Tell me what ya want, darlin'." He sucks on your lip and lets it go with a little squelchy pop. Lips and tongue trailing across your jaw and feasting on the skin at your throat.

"You. Always you.” You mewl mesmerised as his cock slides up against your clit; your body flinches like it’s been electrocuted. You’re crashing, falling into him and surrendering. "Need you."

"Want me inside?" He groans as you nod, lost to the heated desire that burns through your body and drips down your thighs.

"Deep. Hard." You plead. You crave his chaos, it's been so long since you tasted it. "I need you."

"I want ya." He groans.

"Have me, fuck me. Joel, just fuck me, please!"

Hungry brown eyes are pulling yours into them as his swollen head delves into your soaked lips. His stretch burns, opening you up for him again. Sliding with ease into the hilt of you, where he ultimately belongs.

"Hear that? Hear how wet ya are for me? God damn..." He teases, pulling you closer by your ass cheeks as his fat cock pushes up inside the tight channel of your cunt.

You hiss as he pulls up your leg, wrapping it around his waist as he hoists you fully up against the wall. The brickwork is rough against your skin, despite the protective layer of your sweater that grazes against it as he starts to pummel.

He loses all control with you. Can never keep his shit together as you unravel him from that spool completely.

"Fuck," you groan, biting down on your lip as he fills you. His breath leaves him in a wheeze and floods your face as he thrusts in and out; marvels at how well you always take him until he’s completely obliterated.

You can feel yourself soaring, higher into the sky as it holds its arms out for you ready to pull you in. Only he knows how to take you to this height, to this place. A place where, for a moment, only you exist, the two of you, on this bleak rooftop, surrounded by decades of carnage.

But it’s all stripped away in his groans and your pants as you feed each other your imbibed love in a world where everything dies.

In a world where physical gifts are pointless and sparse tokens of fleeting affection, he does the next best thing. Joel gives you something that he knows you’ll always want.

He gifts himself to you.

“Ain’t ever leaving ya, y’hear?” He sounds off in your ear through reckless pants and groans that suffocate on the floor below you. “M’here, always here. Fuck!” He spits. "Gonna be inside ya always, darlin'."

You grip onto him, meeting him with every shunt of his hips into yours, feeling him continuously bottom out as the light from the candles start to blind you over his shoulder.

Feeling your mind grow and body start to pull apart. Feeling the wall scuffing and blistering against your flesh and revelling in the delicious masochism it evokes as he fucks you hard agasint it.

Fucks you like he’s never letting you go.

He laments it over and over. And you believe the sincerity.

“Harder.” You beg, your fingers digging into his shoulders; your nails leaving crescent moons indented in his neck.

"Joel, fuck me harder, please. I want it all."

“That’s some big smack talk for a little lady.” He pants with a smirk.

“Joel!” You whine as he speeds up, giving you what you want so wholly and irrevocably. "Fuck! Yes!"

Your howls of insistence are stripped of any sanity or verbosity as you let go fully and gush around his cock, right to the root.

Pumping himself harder into you and hearing you scream, feeling you buck with the pleasure of it all on the end of his cock as you shake and give him the best of yourself. The parts of you that are only for him to keep.

The part where you're completely stripped back and bare, and he can see you. And you're so fucking beautiful.

And it's right there, he can see it, that love you have back for him as your eyes come unstuck from the back of your head and stare into him as you can see all of him; bruised and fleshed with vulnerability.

Watery with relief, with the fading ebbs of your pleasure. The acceptance of this piece of him he's plucked from his chest and plopped in your hands.

And it's his complete undoing.

Joel grunts out your name as he releases, giving you the final pieces of him as he fills you full of his warm, thick spend.

“Fuck…” He drones, your arms tight around the back of his neck as you slip down the wall onto jellied feet.

His hands stay on your hips, cock slippery and poking you in the belly. Sweaty forehead pressed to yours as he tells you he loves you again on a barely there whisper.

You steal another glance round at the candles, their light blinding your retinas and searing this moment into your mind forever.

You kiss him and he kisses back harder, deeper; a man ravaged of affection, yet he still has small, bloodied parts of him left to share with you. Even if it fucking terrifies him.

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” Joel whispers.

You don’t need to blow out the candles and make a wish.

You’ve already got everything you want, right here, in your arms.

Thank you so much for reading this lil' birthday fic of mine! 🎉 Re-blogs & comments are always appreciated & fuel me. 🖤

MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

#jett's birthday #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fic #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #jett's pedro boys

[teaableu]

Pssst...

Last one I promise I swear- *sweats*

OH my god

YES YOU GET IT this is exactly what rotates in my brain for these two AGH

I am having a hard time communicating how perfect this is but believe me this is wonderful I love it so much and their expressions are PERFECT. I hold this gently thank you so much

I made a joke a while ago that One's got the "I'm the villain and I always will be" (emo) complex while Two has the "I'm the villain and I always will be" (sparkles) complex but when it comes to the deepest most vulnerable layers of the twins as brothers in constant competition with one another and Two's role in his family it's more like a bitter reality moment with the exact tone that you portrayed here. One internalizes being a villain as a necessary fate he can't escape, so he really leans into it (you want me to be the bad guy? Fine, I'll be the bad guy), but Two just accepts it as who he is and he's fine with that (very slight distinction but one that I think of so much). Two doing exactly what he (thinks he) has to even if One resents him for it, "Guess that makes me evil"-- AGH sorry I am emotional

Two looks so tired and upset I'm holding him gently. The way One tries to hurt Two but Two just spits it back in his face.. gah, it's so them

#emd au #sorry for the rant but this is exactly why I love this song for Two specifically #even more of a disaster twins au #rottmnt separated au

[harlowcomehome]

Concealer and concealing:

Walking into his trailer you were apprehensive, you didn’t know much about him. You knew your client was a rapper, you had heard a few of his songs mainly when they were on constant rotation on the radio but you were somewhat familiar.

He carried himself with confidence, extending a hand to introduce himself immediately.

“Hi, I’m Jack! Nice to meet you” his warm welcome made you feel at ease as you smiled back at him.

You were worried that small talk would be awkward as it usually was but the two of you hit it off immediately.

“How long have you been a makeup artist?” He watched as you set out all of your brushes and foundation shades.

“A few years now!” You hummed as you unpacked your kit. Jack took notice of the over abundance of luxury items you had and assumed you knew what you were doing.

You applied a base layer, answering all his questions as you stressed that he would benefit from wearing SPF.

“Is that your way of saying I’m pale?” He gasped, making you nervously drop your makeup brush into his lap.

“No! Not at all. You have really good skin” You were worried he was offended unable to tell by his tone.

He chuckled handing the brush back to you, flashing you a smile to let you know he was only joking.

“Are you always this funny?”

“I’ve been told I can be obnoxious but funny is a good choice of words too. Are you here all day?”

“After I finish your glam, I’m free for the rest of the day.” You smiled, taking a green concealer shade out of your kit to cover some of his red spots.

“Now I’m not Kermit the frog so I’m not entirely sure what you’re doing there” Jack laughed, deeply questioning if you were colorblind.

“Okay, now you’re being obnoxious” you snorted making him hunch over with laughter momentarily as you finished up everything. He was easy to talk to and made your day a lot easier.

You were only there to finish his makeup, packing everything back up as he went to set, he had a long day ahead of him and thanked you for being his distraction prior to it.

The interaction between the two of you made an impression on him, taking note of the fact that you mentioned you were free the rest of the day.

“Neelam, I need a favor” Jack smiled as he ran over to his manager, explaining that he needed to get your contact number from one of the production assistants.

As Jack finished getting showered and cleaned up to go back to his LA Airbnb, Neelam knocked on his dressing room door with a folded piece of paper.

“You owe me” she laughed, handing him a phone number before leaving him alone.

Jack sat down, pulling his phone out of his brown leather MCM backpack, ignoring the tons of notifications he had and calling your number.

“Hello? This is Y/N with your makeup needs, how can I help you?”

Jack was smitten, hearing your forced customer service voice made his stomach do flips.

“Kermit the frog here” he joked in his best impression voice.

“Jack? Did something happen with your makeup?” You were surprised he was calling you, wondering if he had been thinking about you too.

“Actually I was wondering if you-“

He was cut off by a male voice on your end.

“Babe? Babe? You home?” Your fiance Roy had just arrived home from work, you shushed him as you pointed to your phone held up to your ear.

“I’m sorry Jack, you were saying?”

“I was wondering if you’d be available to do my makeup for a music video I was working on, maybe next month?” He lied, his ego completely taking a hit.

You felt a wave of disappointment wash over you, hoping selfishly he was calling for another reason.

“Yeah, when you know specifics just let me know” you faked an overly excited voice as he hung up the call, both of you overwhelmed with disappointment.

#Jack Harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #Jack Harlow fics #Jack Harlow fanfic

[chokememaximoff]

Fainted into your arms

Wanda Maximoff x reader

Abstract: As Y/N navigates the demands of college and her family responsibilities, she forms a deep and unexpected connection with Wanda Maximoff

TW: none

Y/N Y/L/N's life had become a whirlwind of responsibilities. Her days were a relentless cycle of attending veterinary classes, completing clinical rotations, and serving coffee at the cafe until the early morning hours. Sleep had become a luxury she couldn't afford. But beyond her studies and work, she shouldered the weight of her family's needs. Her hometown visits meant taking care of her niece and her ailing mother, who required constant attention. Yet, Y/N somehow found the strength to study amidst the chaos.

As the finals loomed closer, spring swept in, bringing with it warmer days that only added to her exhaustion. One evening, on her way back home from the cafe, Y/N felt a wave of dizziness hit her. She stumbled and clutched onto a nearby tree for support, her body aching, her stomach churning. The combination of exhaustion, hunger, and dehydration had finally taken its toll.

Out of nowhere, a voice cut through the haze, "Are you okay, darling?" Startled, Y/N turned to see a striking older woman standing there. Dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, the woman exuded an air of elegance that left Y/N momentarily breathless. Concern etched on her face, the woman's presence was both comforting and bewildering.

Trying to steady herself, Y/N managed to stammer, "I'm... I'm okay, just... exhausted." But as the woman spoke, a sudden ringing overwhelmed her senses. She strained to hear, but the sound grew deafening, and darkness swallowed her whole.

When consciousness returned, Y/N was met with a throbbing headache. As she gingerly sat up, she realized a cold cloth had been placed on her forehead. Blinking, she looked around, disoriented by the opulent surroundings. Confusion gnawed at her, and an involuntary "What the fuck..." escaped her lips.

Footsteps approached, and the older woman entered the room, holding a tray of food that looked incredibly tempting. Warmth radiated from her smile as she noticed Y/N awake. Settling into a chair across from Y/N, she asked with genuine concern, "How are you feeling?"

Managing a weak chuckle, Y/N admitted, "Honestly, like shit." The woman's laughter danced in response. "You had me quite worried. Fainting into my arms was a bit unexpected. I brought you here so you could rest," she explained, her eyes conveying kindness.

A mixture of embarrassment and gratitude washed over Y/N. "Thank you. I... I appreciate it," she murmured, her cheeks flushing slightly. When the woman's hand landed on her knee, an electric current seemed to surge through Y/N, leaving her both surprised and intrigued. She attempted to shake off the sensation, not quite understanding it.

"You must have pushed yourself too hard," the woman, Wanda Maximoff, offered softly. Y/N nodded, feeling a strange connection forming between them. Despite the circumstances, a comfortable silence settled as they exchanged glances, understanding passing between them.

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N," Y/N finally introduced herself, extending her hand. Wanda's grip was warm and reassuring, and as their fingers touched, an undeniable spark coursed through Y/N. "Wanda Maximoff," the woman replied, her voice carrying a richness that resonated deep within Y/N.

...

Y/N savored each bite of the delicious food Wanda had prepared. The flavors danced on her taste buds, and she couldn't help but let out a satisfied moan. "This is the best food I've had all week!" she exclaimed, looking at Wanda with genuine appreciation.

Wanda's cheeks tinted with a faint blush. "Oh, it's nothing really. I just quickly put it together for you," she replied modestly.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. "Trust me, this is like Gordon Ramsay-level stuff. It's a huge shift after the cafeteria food... not that I eat that very much either. Most days, I forget to eat anything at all."

A shadow of concern flickered across Wanda's face. "That's not good, honey. You should take better care of yourself."

Y/N blushed at the endearing term of address. She looked down, a bit bashful. "I know, but there's so much on my plate. I don't want to burden you with my problems. Besides, you've already done so much by bringing me here."

Leaning in with a playful glint in her eyes, Wanda asked, "Now you've intrigued me. What caused you to faint dramatically into my arms?"

Y/N let out a sigh and began to open up, sharing the overwhelming challenges she faced daily. Wanda's concern was palpable as she listened intently to Y/N's story.

"Honey," Wanda said softly when Y/N finished, "you need to consider dropping that job. You're already managing so much."

Y/N arched an eyebrow skeptically. "And how am I supposed to pay for my dorm then?"

Wanda hesitated, a thoughtful look crossing her face. But then she changed the subject, asking if Y/N wanted a drink. Y/N, feeling flustered, declined, mumbling about overstaying her welcome.

Wanda shook her head, a warm smile on her lips. "You're not overstaying. You're welcome to stay, even overnight if you'd like."

Standing up, Y/N felt a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. "I appreciate that, but I wouldn't want to cause any trouble if someone else comes over."

Wanda chuckled softly. "I don't have a partner to worry about, whether husband or wife. Being 34 doesn't mean I have to be married, right, darling?"

Y/N's cheeks flushed as she stammered, "I didn't mean it like that." The proximity of Wanda's hand on her arm sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a spark of connection she couldn't ignore.

Leaning in even closer, Wanda's voice dropped. "And who said anything about marriage? I like to keep my options open."

Before Y/N could react, Wanda had retrieved her car keys. "Well, whether you're staying or not, I'll at least drive you to your dorm."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the stern determination in Wanda's gaze silenced her. They walked down to Wanda's sleek Dodge Hellcat, chatting amiably during the drive. As they pulled up to Y/N's dorm, Wanda smiled warmly.

"Would you mind if I had your number?" Wanda inquired, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.

Y/N's blush deepened, but she nodded. Wanda handed her the phone, and Y/N typed in her number. Wanda saved the contact, and then she exited the car, opening the door for Y/N.

"Thank you," Y/N said, her voice a bit shaky as she stepped out.

Wanda's tone was affectionate as she said, "Take care of yourself, okay?" Then, in a surprising move, Wanda leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Y/N's cheek.

"Bye, Y/N," Wanda said with a grin, before driving away, leaving Y/N standing there, her heart racing and her mind reeling from the unexpected whirlwind of emotions and connections that had unfolded between them.

...

As Y/N stepped into the dorm room, her roommate Kate Bishop sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes. "Where have you been?" Kate asked, her voice half-awake yet curious.

Y/N winced sheepishly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. I felt weak, so I stopped."

Kate raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And then what happened? You woke me up by entering the room like you were being chased by a ghost."

A flush spread across Y/N's cheeks as she recounted the story. "Well, this incredibly hot 34-year-old woman came up to me and asked if I was okay. I, uh, totally embarrassed myself by fainting into her arms."

Kate's eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait, what? You fainted into the arms of a hot woman? Damn, Y/N, that's one way to make an impression."

Y/N rolled her eyes, flustered. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. She was really nice though. She even offered for me to stay over at her place, but I was too... flustered to accept. I gave her my number instead."

Kate chuckled, leaning back against her pillows. "Sounds like you've had quite the night. Maybe you'll actually get some rest now."

Y/N sighed, dropping dramatically onto her bed. Just as she was about to say something, her phone dinged with a message. She practically leaped off her bed to grab it, excitement bubbling within her.

Kate observed the scene with amusement. "Wow, you're like a kid on Christmas morning."

Y/N's face lit up as she read the message from the unknown number. "Hope you're getting rest, darling."

In her excitement, Y/N threw her phone at Kate, who caught it with a bemused expression. "Okay, what's got you this excited?" Kate asked.

Y/N bounced up and down, a wide grin on her face. "It's her! It's a message from Wanda! She actually texted me!"

Kate glanced at the message, then back at Y/N, and without hesitation, she playfully slapped Y/N's shoulder. "Damn, Y/N, you're gonna score an older woman. I'm so jealous!"

Y/N's blush deepened as she reclaimed her phone, practically beaming. "I can't believe this is happening."

Kate smirked. "Well, Miss Y/N Y/L/N, looks like you're in for an interesting ride. Now, lay down and sleep before I have to call Wanda to bend you over her knee for not resting."

Y/N laughed, finally settling onto her bed. As she closed her eyes, thoughts of Wanda and their unexpected connection filled her mind, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation for what lay ahead.

...

As the week progressed, Y/N Y/L/N found herself engaged in lively text conversations with Wanda Maximoff. Their exchanges became a bright spot in her demanding schedule, a source of comfort and excitement amidst her overwhelming commitments. Yet, despite Wanda's gentle reminders to take care of herself and rest, Y/N struggled to break free from her relentless routine.

Friday evening descended, and Y/N stumbled out of the cafe, weariness etched into her features. In her sleep-deprived state, she collided with someone just outside the door. Her murmured apology was met with a chuckle, and as Y/N looked up, her gaze locked onto Wanda's concerned expression.

"Honey, you told me you were resting more," Wanda remarked softly, concern etched in her voice. "You look like a zombie."

Y/N's cheeks flushed, her exhaustion becoming more evident. Attempting to inject some humor, she teased, "Am I a hot zombie, at least?"

A playful grin tugged at the corners of Wanda's lips. "The hottest zombie, I'd say. But this particular zombie is now coming with me to my apartment. It seems I can't trust you to rest properly on your own."

Y/N opened her mouth to object, but Wanda's hand was already wrapping around hers, leading her to Wanda's car. The sensation of Wanda's warm touch sent shivers down Y/N's spine, igniting a series of emotions she couldn't quite comprehend. The ride to Wanda's apartment was marked by a comfortable silence, a palpable connection existing between them.

Once they arrived, Y/N expressed her hesitations. "I really don't want to impose."

Wanda dismissed her concerns with a casual wave. "Darling, you're an intelligent woman. If someone invites you to their house, are you really intruding?"

Blushing deeply, Y/N murmured, "Okay, Maximoff. I'm guessing you want me here."

Wanda's grin was infectious. "Smart guess. Now, have you eaten, darling?"

Avoiding Wanda's gaze, Y/N admitted softly, "I haven't had the time."

Wanda's expression turned incredulous. "It's 11 PM. You should have at least eaten something."

Sighing, Y/N nodded. "Okay."

"Go on, make yourself comfortable on the couch," Wanda directed. "I'll whip up something delicious for you."

Following Wanda's guidance, Y/N settled onto the couch, pulling out her phone to send a quick text to Kate, updating her on the change of plans. Kate's response made her chuckle, and after stowing her phone away, she took a moment to appreciate the elegance of Wanda's apartment.

Heading into the kitchen, Y/N found Wanda with her hair in a bun, orchestrating a culinary masterpiece. The tantalizing aroma of the cooking filled the space, making Y/N's stomach rumble. However, her attention shifted from the food to Wanda, who was humming a catchy tune and swaying her hips to the rhythm. The sight was mesmerizing, and Y/N was caught off-guard when Wanda's voice interrupted her thoughts, "Enjoying the view, darling?"

Flustered, Y/N stammered, "I just... uh, wanted to check if you needed any assistance."

Wanda turned to face Y/N with a knowing smirk. "Darling, just sit there and look pretty. That's all the assistance I require from you."

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as she obeyed, taking a seat in the kitchen. Wanda's smile was warm and inviting as she continued to prepare the meal. Y/N found herself captivated by Wanda's presence, a growing connection forming between them that seemed to transcend words.

As Wanda hummed a tune, Y/N recognized the song and pulled it up on her phone. Wanda's grin grew wider. "Ah, so you appreciate good music too?"

Embarrassed but sincere, Y/N replied, "Well, it's a classic..."

With the song playing softly in the background, their interaction continued to flow seamlessly, building a sense of familiarity and intimacy. Y/N couldn't help but feel drawn to Wanda's energy, and with every passing moment, she found herself sinking deeper into the unexpected connection that had bloomed between them.

After a satisfying meal, a pleasant drowsiness began to envelop Y/N Y/L/N. Wanda Maximoff noticed the telltale signs and smiled gently. "Well, it looks like it's time to head to bed, darling."

Y/N nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Standing up, Wanda gestured for Y/N to follow her. Y/N complied, trailing behind Wanda as they entered a room that appeared to be Wanda's. Y/N's heart raced at the prospect of spending the night in the same room as Wanda.

Wanda pulled out some comfortable clothes from her closet and handed them to Y/N. "I wasn't going to let you sleep in jeans," she said with a chuckle. "There's a brand new toothbrush in the cabinet in the bathroom for you."

As Wanda retrieved a blanket and pillow, Y/N hesitated, glancing around the room. "Wait, where are you going? This is your bed."

Wanda smiled warmly, her eyes holding a reassuring glint. "I'm going to take the couch so that you can rest in a comfortable bed."

Y/N's expression turned into one of concern. "No, no, I can't let you sleep on the couch because of me. I'll take the couch or something."

Wanda shook her head, her tone firm but caring. "Darling, you need quality rest. The couch won't give you that."

Y/N sighed, feeling torn. "Well, you need quality rest too. Just stay in the bed. I don't mind sleeping with you."

Wanda's eyebrows raised, a blush tinting her cheeks. Y/N's words seemed to hang in the air, charged with unintended implications. Y/N quickly stumbled over her words, flustered. "I mean, I didn't mean it like that. I just don't want you to be tired tomorrow. I mean, look, I don't want you to think that I wouldn't... Oh god, just sleep in the bed and don't comment on it, please."

Wanda chuckled, her fingers lightly pinching Y/N's cheek. "I make you quite nervous, don't I? But that's okay. You're adorable when you're nervous."

Y/N blushed even deeper, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and fondness for Wanda's teasing. She quickly excused herself, retreating to the bathroom. Changing into the shorts and t-shirt Wanda had given her, Y/N couldn't help but smile when she realized the clothes carried Wanda's scent.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, Y/N took a deep breath and looked at her reflection in the mirror. This was it—a chance to sleep in the same bed as the woman she had developed a crush on, a bit too intensely.

As Y/N emerged from the bathroom after changing, her eyes widened at the sight of Wanda Maximoff, now clad in shorts and a tank top. The subtle curve of Wanda's figure caught her attention, and she quickly averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Wanda's chuckle rippled through the air. "You're easy to impress, darling."

Y/N shushed her, her embarrassment evident. Walking over to the bed, she slipped under the covers, her heart racing. Just a moment later, Wanda returned from the bathroom, her presence making Y/N's heart skip a beat. Climbing into the bed as well, Wanda settled beside her.

Y/N fumbled for her phone, trying to steady her nerves. She turned on an alarm, prompting Wanda to raise an eyebrow. "Why set an alarm? You don't have any classes tomorrow."

Y/N hesitated for a moment before answering, "I have to catch the bus to my hometown for the weekend. You know, my mom and niece—I have to help out."

Wanda gently took Y/N's phone from her hands and turned off the alarm. Handing it back, she declared, "We're sleeping in tomorrow. I'm driving you to your parents' place."

Y/N shook her head, protest forming on her lips. "No, no, I can't have you do that."

Rolling her eyes playfully, Wanda insisted, "Honey, consider it done."

Y/N let out a resigned sigh, still feeling overwhelmed by Wanda's kindness. "I don't understand why you're being so nice to me."

There was a brief pause, a sense of vulnerability hanging in the air. Wanda's usual confidence seemed to waver for the first time that night. But then, she brushed off the moment, a smile gracing her lips. "Rest now, darling. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

Y/N nodded, her heart fluttering as Wanda leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Good night, Y/N."

Flustered, Y/N managed to reply, "Good night, Wanda," as she watched Wanda's retreating figure. Alone in the dimly lit room, Y/N couldn't help but replay the events of the evening, the weight of Wanda's presence, and the gentle kiss on her cheek, making it difficult for her to fall asleep.

...

As the morning sun began to filter through the curtains, Y/N's phone rang, stirring her from her slumber. With a groan, she moved to reach for it, only to realize that she was met with resistance. Blinking in confusion, she realized that her arms were wrapped around someone, and she was on top of them. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Wanda Maximoff, peacefully sleeping beneath her, arms wrapped securely around Y/N.

For a moment, Y/N couldn't help but admire the tranquility of Wanda's sleeping form. The soft rise and fall of her chest, the delicate curve of her lips, and the way her hair cascaded across the pillow—it was a sight to behold.

As Y/N's phone continued to ring, she decided to answer it before it woke Wanda. Her mother's voice greeted her from the other side, a mix of concern and scolding evident. "Y/N, why weren't you answering? Did you get on the bus safely?"

Y/N winced, feeling slightly guilty. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm fine, really. I just...slept in."

Wanda stirred slightly at the sound of Y/N's voice, letting out a soft groan. Y/N's mother continued, oblivious to Wanda's presence. "Did you wake Kate up?"

Y/N quickly shook her head, forgetting that her mom couldn't see her. "No, it's not Kate. Uh, a friend will be driving me to your house, so I just slept in a bit."

Y/N's mother sounded puzzled. "Well, if it's not Kate, then who is it?"

Blushing, Y/N stammered, "Uh, it's someone... Anyway, see ya, love you, bye, Mom."

As she hung up the phone, she became aware of Wanda's amused gaze upon her. Wanda's voice, tinged with a playful tone, broke the silence. "A friend, huh?"

Y/N playfully slapped Wanda's shoulder. "My mom won't let me live this down now."

Wanda laughed, rubbing Y/N's back gently. "Well, at least you're awake now. By the way, who's Kate?"

Raising her eyebrows, Y/N teased, "Jealous?"

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Just tell me."

Y/N chuckled, explaining, "Kate is my roommate."

Satisfied with the response, Wanda gestured towards the bathroom. "Alright, time to get up. I'm making breakfast."

Y/N nodded, finally mustering the will to extricate herself from Wanda's embrace. The warmth of Wanda's presence lingered, leaving Y/N with a mixture of emotions that she wasn't quite sure how to process. As she headed to the bathroom, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn of events that had brought her into Wanda's orbit.

As they sat down to enjoy breakfast, the morning sunlight painted the room with a warm glow. Y/N took a deep breath, mustering the courage to ask the question that had been lingering in her mind. "Wanda, can you tell me why you've been so nice to me?"

Wanda's expression shifted, a mixture of nervousness and vulnerability crossing her features. She cleared her throat, her gaze fixed on her plate. "Look, I don't want you to find this weird, and I really don't want it to ruin anything between us, even if you don't feel the same way."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her curiosity piqued. "Wanda, you can tell me. I promise I won't judge."

Wanda took a deep breath, her voice wavering slightly. "From the moment I laid my eyes on you, even though you were fainting, I couldn't help but feel drawn to you and your beauty. The more we talked, the more I got to know you, the more I realized I liked you."

Y/N's eyes widened, the realization hitting her like a wave. She listened intently as Wanda continued, her voice soft but filled with sincerity. "I'm nice to you because, honestly, I like you in way more than just a friend way. I would like to take care of you because you obviously need someone to. I know this might be too forward, and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, but I have a crush on you, you could say."

Y/N was at a loss for words, her mind racing to process what she had just heard. She cleared her throat, her voice shaky as she repeated, "Take care of me?"

Wanda nodded, a determined look in her eyes. "Yes. I would offer you to stay at my place so you don't have to go to work, and you can rest more and just focus on your studies and your family. I really don't want anything in return. I just... I have more than enough money to take you under my wing and help you out."

Y/N's mind was a whirlwind of emotions as she tried to absorb everything. She chuckled nervously, looking up at Wanda. "Wait, you really think I don't like you back?"

Wanda's brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Y/N's chuckle turned into a genuine smile. "Wanda, I get flustered when you so much as breathe my way. I like you a bit too much if I'm honest."

Wanda's face broke into a wide grin, her eyes lighting up. "You do?"

Y/N nodded, her cheeks flushed but her gaze unwavering. "But I didn't want to push anything because I didn't know if you wanted anything with me. I mean, I'm younger..."

Wanda's grin remained, and she leaned in closer. "You know what they say, darling. Age is just a number."

As their eyes locked, the weight of their unspoken feelings hung in the air. The breakfast table was forgotten, the world around them fading as they shared a moment filled with possibility and newfound understanding.

...

Wanda followed through on her promise. She drove Y/N to her family's house, the journey filled with casual conversation and stolen glances that held a world of unspoken emotions. As they reached their destination, Wanda pulled the car to a stop. Turning to Y/N, she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Have a good time, Y/N. Take care."

Y/N blushed, her heart fluttering at the touch of Wanda's lips against her skin. "Thank you, Wanda," she replied, her voice soft.

Wanda offered a warm smile before retracting and exiting the car. She waved at Y/N and watched as Y/N walked towards her family's home. Once Y/N was safely inside, Wanda turned back to her car and drove away, her thoughts consumed by the woman she had come to care for.

Inside her family's home, Y/N's grin was practically infectious as she greeted her niece with open arms. The little girl's small arms wrapped around Y/N's knees, and Y/N scooped her up, showering her with kisses and affection. After greeting her niece, she moved on to her mother, kissing her cheek and exchanging warm greetings. Her brother and his wife received the same treatment, and soon the entire family was caught up in laughter and conversation.

As they settled in, Y/N's mother couldn't help but notice the newfound glow in her daughter's demeanor. With a curious smile, she leaned in and whispered, "Who was that woman you were with this morning? And who was in that expensive car that drove you here?"

Y/N blushed, glancing down at her plate momentarily before looking up. "Well, Mom, I met a woman named Wanda. She's pretty amazing. She's a bit older, but she's really good to me and helps me out a lot."

Her brother couldn't resist chiming in with a teasing grin. "And what does she ask for in return?"

Y/N shook her head, a soft smile on her lips. "Nothing, actually. She's taking things as I want to."

Her brother exchanged a knowing glance with his wife before both of them requested to see a picture of this "amazing" woman. Y/N obliged, showing them a photo of Wanda on her phone. Their jaws dropped slightly, and her brother whistled, exclaiming, "Damn, sis."

Y/N laughed, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and pride. The weekend was spent helping out around the house, catching up with family, and exchanging stories of their lives.

Finally, Sunday night arrived, and Y/N's phone buzzed with a message from Wanda, indicating her arrival. Y/N said her goodbyes to her family, embracing each of them in turn. With a smile on her lips and thoughts of Wanda swirling in her mind, Y/N left her family's house and headed toward the waiting car.

As Y/N stepped into the car, the air was charged with a mix of excitement and nervousness. She couldn't hold back the surge of emotions that had built up over the weekend. Before she could overthink it, she reached out and gently cupped Wanda's cheeks, drawing her in for a tender kiss on the lips.

Wanda's surprise was evident, but she quickly responded to the kiss, her lips meeting Y/N's with a mixture of passion and softness. The moment was fleeting yet filled with an undeniable connection that spoke volumes beyond words.

As they pulled away, Wanda's eyes held a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "What was that for?"

Y/N's cheeks were tinted pink, but her smile was genuine. "Just missed you."

Wanda chuckled, her own blush evident. "If that's how you're always gonna greet me, I will be more than happy to drive you to your family every weekend."

Y/N laughed, her heart fluttering at Wanda's response. "Well, I guess you'll just have to find out."

The car started moving, carrying them down the road, away from Y/N's family home and toward the uncertain yet exciting path that lay ahead. With each passing moment, their bond grew stronger, and the connection they shared became more profound. As they journeyed together, they were both aware that their lives had taken an unexpected turn, but it was a turn that they were more than willing to explore.

...

On a typical afternoon, Y/N found herself in Wanda's apartment, engrossed in her studies after a long day of classes. Wanda was still at work, and Y/N appreciated the quiet atmosphere that allowed her to focus. However, her concentration was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Assuming it was Wanda returning earlier than expected, Y/N got up and walked over to the door. But when she opened it, she was met with the sight of an unfamiliar woman with striking ginger hair. Their eyes met, both puzzled by the unexpected encounter.

The woman spoke first, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. "Um, do I have the wrong apartment?"

Y/N leaned against the door frame, her brow furrowing. "Well, who are you looking for?"

The woman hesitated for a moment before responding, "I'm looking for Wanda Maximoff."

Y/N's expression cleared as she realized the situation. "No, you have the right apartment. Wanda isn't home yet."

The woman offered a faint smile. "May I come in then?"

Y/N stepped aside, welcoming her guest. Once inside, the woman introduced herself as Natasha Romanoff, a close friend of Wanda's. Y/N's curiosity piqued, and she looked at Natasha with interest.

Natasha's gaze was quizzical as she observed Y/N. "And who might you be?"

Y/N extended her hand with a friendly smile. "I'm Y/N, Wanda's girlfriend."

Natasha's eyebrows raised, a playful smirk forming on her lips. "Oh, Wanda keeps you a secret, huh?"

Y/N chuckled, feeling a mixture of flattery and awkwardness. "It's all very sudden."

Natasha leaned against a nearby surface, her posture relaxed. She shot Y/N a teasing glance. "Well, Y/N, it's nice to finally meet the elusive girlfriend."

Y/N blushed, not entirely sure how to respond to Natasha's playful demeanor. "Nice to meet you too, Natasha."

The teasing took an unexpected turn as Natasha leaned in slightly, a flirtatious glint in her eye. "You know, Y/N, if Wanda's keeping secrets, maybe you deserve a little fun too."

Y/N chuckled nervously, her cheeks pink. "Natasha, I don't think that's a smart idea. I'm with Wanda."

Before Natasha could continue the flirtatious banter, the door swung open, and Wanda walked in, her voice cutting through the moment. "Give her a break, Nat."

Wanda's presence instantly changed the atmosphere, and Natasha straightened up, her demeanor shifting to a more composed one. Y/N let out a relieved breath as Wanda entered the room, her eyes meeting Y/N's with warmth and familiarity.

"Well, Wands, I just had to check if she was loyal to you," Natasha quipped, her tone light. "I gotta make sure my friend is happy, you know."

Y/N's cheeks heated up, and she playfully hid her face against Wanda's neck, letting out a nervous laugh. Wanda chuckled and wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist, looking at Natasha with an amused expression. "You have a funny way of looking out for me, Nat."

Natasha grinned mischievously, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, I take my job as a friend seriously."

The tension eased as they all burst into laughter, the awkwardness of the situation dissipating into shared amusement. Wanda's gaze landed on Y/N again, a playful glint in her eyes. "So, Y/N, did you pass the loyalty test?"

Y/N peeked out from her hiding spot, still blushing but more at ease. "I think so?"

Natasha gave a mock-exasperated sigh. "Yes, she did. I mean, who could resist me?"

Wanda chuckled, giving Y/N's waist a gentle squeeze. "Well, I managed to."

The camaraderie between the three of them was palpable as they exchanged playful banter. Natasha's curiosity shifted toward a more serious topic as she asked, "So, how come Y/N is already living here?"

Wanda looked at Y/N with a fond smile before turning back to Natasha. "Y/N is working really hard, juggling studies, a part-time job, and taking care of her family. I wanted to help her out, make things a bit easier."

Natasha's smile softened, her eyes conveying a mix of respect and admiration. "You've always had a heart of gold, Wands."

Y/N chimed in, her voice filled with gratitude. "It's true. Wanda's been amazing, Natasha. She's been there for me when I needed someone the most."

Natasha nodded appreciatively. "Well, you're lucky to have her. I've been trying to score this one for a while, but I'm guessing now she was just waiting for a young, hot one."

Y/N burst into laughter, the tension fully lifted now. "Maybe she was."

The atmosphere was easy and light, a testament to the bond between the three of them. As the conversation continued, Y/N realized that Wanda's friendships were as unique and genuine as the woman herself, and she couldn't help but feel grateful for having been welcomed into this circle of care and camaraderie.

...

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of studying, hard work, and determination. Y/N was relentless in her pursuit of success, and her dedication paid off as she passed all her finals with amazing grades. With her accomplishments in hand, she decided to celebrate with her roommate Kate and Kate's girlfriend Yelena. Y/N extended an invitation to Wanda and Natasha as well, eager to share her joy with those who had become so important to her.

As they arrived at the club for their celebratory night out, Y/N's excitement was palpable. The atmosphere was charged with music and energy, setting the stage for a memorable evening. Natasha's presence, however, sparked a surprised reaction.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, looking at Yelena with a mixture of amusement and confusion. "What are you doing here?"

The others exchanged curious glances, wondering about the unexpected connection. Yelena rolled her eyes playfully. "She's my sister."

Laughter erupted, the coincidental meeting of sisters in such a vast city adding a layer of camaraderie to the group. As they settled into the night, the drinks flowed, and inhibitions slowly faded away. Y/N found herself dancing energetically, her body moving to the rhythm of the music.

In the midst of the pulsating lights and music, Y/N felt Wanda's presence beside her. Their bodies moved in sync, and Y/N couldn't resist leaning in closer, feeling the magnetic pull that had drawn them together. As the night progressed, the alcohol added a layer of courage, and Y/N found herself becoming bolder.

Kate, with her playful nature, teased Y/N about Wanda, causing a blush to spread across Y/N's cheeks. Just as Y/N was about to stammer a response, Wanda's hand cupped her cheek, and their lips met in a soft yet passionate kiss.

Y/N's heart raced, the world around them fading as Wanda's touch enveloped her. As they broke apart, Wanda's eyes held an affectionate gaze, and her words were whispered with tenderness. "You're adorable."

The music and laughter continued to fill the air, the night a tapestry of joy and connection. Y/N had found herself surrounded by people who cared for her deeply, who had become a part of her journey and her heart. As they danced and laughed together, Y/N realized that life had taken her on an unexpected yet beautiful path, one filled with love, friendship, and unforgettable moments.

...

In the days that followed Y/N's graduation, a sense of accomplishment and relief washed over her. She had worked tirelessly to excel in her studies, and now that she had successfully passed all her finals with remarkable grades, a new chapter of life awaited. As she basked in the glow of her achievement, she couldn't help but appreciate the support and love she had received from her friends and loved ones.

Among those who had been a constant presence was Wanda Maximoff. Ever since their chance encounter and the subsequent connection they had formed, Wanda had become an integral part of Y/N's life. They had shared moments of vulnerability, laughter, and genuine companionship. Y/N was grateful for Wanda's unwavering encouragement and support throughout her academic journey.

Yet, as graduation day approached, Y/N noticed a curious change in Wanda's behavior. She seemed to take a keen interest in cars, a topic that Y/N hadn't seen Wanda express much enthusiasm about before. Wanda would often ask Y/N about her preferences, the type of cars she liked, and even her dream car.

One evening, as they were sitting in a cozy corner of their favorite café, Y/N couldn't help but voice her curiosity. "Wanda, you seem really interested in cars lately. Is there a reason for that?"

Wanda looked at Y/N, a playful glint in her eyes. "You can tell a lot about a person by which car is their dream car."

Y/N chuckled, intrigued by the enigmatic response but not thinking too deeply about it. They shifted the conversation to other topics, enjoying the comfort of each other's company. Graduation day came and went, filled with the joy of accomplishment and the anticipation of new beginnings.

On a warm evening, after a celebratory dinner with her family, Y/N returned home with a contented smile. The apartment was dimly lit, and the air was charged with an air of mystery. Wanda's eyes twinkled as she approached Y/N, a blindfold in her hand.

"Close your eyes," Wanda instructed, her voice gentle.

Y/N complied, feeling a mixture of excitement and curiosity. The blindfold was carefully placed over her eyes, and Wanda's fingers brushed against her skin as she tied it securely. Y/N's heart raced as she wondered what surprise awaited her.

Wanda took Y/N's hand and led her carefully, their steps measured and deliberate. Y/N's mind raced with possibilities, trying to guess where they were headed. The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallways, and Y/N felt a rush of anticipation.

Finally, Wanda's voice broke through the silence. "Okay, open your eyes."

Y/N removed the blindfold, and her eyes widened in astonishment. Before her stood a sleek and elegant Tesla, bathed in the soft glow of the evening lights. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. She turned to Wanda, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"Wanda, what is this?"

Wanda's smile was warm and genuine as she took out a set of keys and placed them in Y/N's hand. "This is a graduation gift from me."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, her emotions overwhelming her. "Wanda, I can't accept this. It's too much."

Wanda's expression was gentle yet resolute. "You deserve it, Y/N. To me, it's nothing, and seeing you happy makes me happy."

Y/N tried to find the right words, to express her gratitude and disbelief, but they eluded her. Instead, she reached out and pulled Wanda into a tight embrace, her heart overflowing with emotions. They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, celebrating an achievement that felt even more special because it was shared.

As they pulled apart, Y/N's gaze fell on a neatly wrapped box placed on the driver's seat. She looked at Wanda, her curiosity piqued. Wanda's playful expression and a subtle raise of her eyebrows indicated that there was more to come.

With trembling fingers, Y/N carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a stethoscope of exquisite craftsmanship. The instrument was beautifully designed, with Y/N's name elegantly engraved on it. Y/N's eyes widened in astonishment, her hand touching the stethoscope as if it were a precious artifact.

She looked at Wanda, her voice filled with awe. "This is amazing, thank you so much."

Wanda's fingers brushed against Y/N's cheek, her gaze soft and affectionate. "You're welcome, darling. You've worked so hard, and I wanted to mark this moment for you."

Y/N's heart swelled with gratitude, her emotions swirling within her. She cupped Wanda's cheeks, a mixture of tenderness and adoration in her eyes. Without another word, she leaned in and pressed her lips against Wanda's, a kiss filled with a depth of emotion words could never convey.

As the kiss deepened, the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them and the shared bond that had grown between them. It was a kiss that spoke of gratitude, love, and the promise of a future filled with shared moments and cherished memories.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N's gaze fell upon the Tesla once more. With newfound determination, she unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for Wanda. Wanda smiled appreciatively, leaning in to place a soft kiss on Y/N's cheek.

"Thank you," Y/N whispered, her voice filled with sincerity.

Wanda winked playfully. "Now, are you going to drive me around, or what?"

Y/N grinned, the excitement bubbling within her. She entered the driver's seat, the car's interior a blend of sleek design and cutting-edge technology. Wanda settled into the passenger seat, her smile warm and her eyes filled with affection.

As they drove off into the night, the city's lights illuminating their path, Y/N couldn't help but gush about the car's features. Wanda listened with a fond smile, her heart full as she watched Y/N's animated expressions and heard the excitement in her voice.

The wind tousled their hair, carrying with it a sense of freedom and possibility. Y/N glanced at Wanda, her heart swelling with gratitude for the woman who had not only gifted her a remarkable car but had also filled her life with love, support, and moments that would forever be etched in her heart.

...

Years had flowed by since that pivotal graduation day, where Y/N's life had taken an unforeseen turn. Her world had been forever altered by the chance encounter with Wanda Maximoff, and their love had grown in strength and depth.

In the intervening years, Y/N's veterinary career had soared to greater heights. Her clinic had become a beacon of excellence in animal care, drawing clients from near and far. The walls of her office were adorned with framed degrees and accolades, a testament to her dedication and skill.

But it wasn't just professional success that had filled Y/N's life. It was the unwavering support and boundless love of Wanda that had truly enriched her existence. Wanda had been her anchor, her confidante, and her biggest cheerleader. Their love had evolved into an unbreakable bond, a love story that had touched the hearts of all who knew them.

Wanda's own journey had continued to impress. Her law firm had flourished under her expert guidance, and she had become a formidable presence in the legal world. Yet, her true fulfillment came from the positive impact she had on her community. Wanda was known for her philanthropic endeavors, her commitment to justice, and her kindness to those in need.

Their shared life was a vibrant tapestry woven with love and laughter. Their home, once just a place to reside, had transformed into a sanctuary of warmth and comfort. It was a place where the aroma of Wanda's delicious cooking filled the air, where playful banter echoed through the halls, and where their love story was etched into every corner.

One thing that had remained unchanged was Wanda's knack for surprising Y/N. Special occasions were marked with grand gestures, such as romantic getaways to exotic destinations or extravagant celebrations with friends and family. But it was the everyday surprises that often meant the most—a heartfelt note left on a pillow or a spontaneous dance in the living room to their favorite song.

Their love story was a living testament to the power of connection, resilience, and unwavering support. Through trials and triumphs, they had weathered life's challenges hand in hand, growing closer with each obstacle they overcame. Their love had deepened, matured, and become a source of strength for them both.

As they continued to walk the winding path of life, Y/N and Wanda knew that whatever the future held, they would face it together. Their love was a testament to the enduring power of two souls united by destiny, a love story that would continue to inspire and enchant for years to come.

#marvel mcu #mcu #marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff

[c4tsc4pe]

Classpect Analysis Definitions Guide Combob

i read a Smashing aspect analysis by @/alicesonions (which this is very inspired by check it out right now the redesigned symbols are awesome) and wanted to revamp my own so here we go shaggy 2 dope classpect guide 2.0 (og draft here)

this is just a rundown on how i personally understand/use classpects even though i love talking my ass off and want to over explain all this i tried to write hopefully easily digestible and to the point definitions using key words and phrases bc thats how i personally learn things (i might make an extended version with further information and analysis later)

this can always be edited too i am So open to discussion criticism etc please tell me every single one of your thoughts about classpects in tags comments whatever I LOVE HEARING IT

anyway fat megapost ahead man the cannons

- - >

Classpects

A “Classpect” is a player’s title in Sburb, which uses the formula [Class] of [Aspect]. Not only does a Classpect dictate a player's reality-bending powers, but it defines a player’s place in their session, their place in reality, and their place within the narrative itself.

There are two components that make up a player's Classpect: their aspect and their class. There are 12 aspects and 14 classes in total. Hypothetically, ANY player could be ANY of the 168 total combos of these, no matter the person, but Sburb will narrow down the options and pick a player’s Classpect depending on how it thinks it can BEST use them in the game/their specific session.

A Classpect is chosen via a sort of “sorting hat” method. The person you are (struggles, goals, gaming strategies, how you interact with the world and others, etc.) inadvertently dictates your Classpect, but that is only BEFORE THE GAME STARTS. Once you’ve entered Sburb, Skaia will ultimately decide your role based on everything it gathered, and you are stuck with it whether you like it or not.

[In total: Classpects are a predetermined in-game role to fulfill as well as a narrative tool.]

Aspects

Aspects are described as “the basic building blocks of everything that exists within paradox space”; a cosmic property that relates MOST to a player and that they have the potential to BEST excel at.

A player’s aspect is always something the player starts out STRUGGLING with in some way. No one ever has total control or knowledge of their aspect right off the bat. It is something that challenges the player and must be learned over time so the player can grow and reach their full potential as a Hero of their aspect.

Aspects are a neutral and nuanced concept- no aspect is inherently good nor bad.

The 12 aspects: Breath, Light, Time, Space, Life, Hope, Void, Heart, Blood, Mind, Doom, and Rage.

Breath: The aspect of freedom and detachment. Breath is impossible to hold down, easy breezy, head in the clouds, go with the flow. Breath is breeze, movement, flight, weightlessness, indirection, and independence. Breath blows whatever way it feels like, not caring about much else.

Narrative connection: Plot development.

Breath’s opposing aspect is Blood.

Light: The aspect of knowledge and illumination. Light exposes the hidden, brightens the dark corners, brings things into the spotlight. Light is relevance, illumination, luck, enlightenment, sight, visibility, definition, and attention. Light brings itself to what is hidden in the dark.

Narrative connection: Plot relevance.

Lights opposing aspect is Void.

Time: The aspect of rhythm and destruction. Time is connected to death, the past and future, taking action, small details, the destination over the journey. Time is repetition, iteration, cycles, pace, patterns, preservation, decay, continuity, and management. Time is the steady tick of a clock, the constant rotation of an ever-turning gear.

Narrative connection: Pacing.

Times opposing aspect is Space.

[Time is one of the fundamental fabrics making up paradox space and is therefore an aspect required to win Sburb. If your session does not have a Time player, your session is doomed to fail.]

Space: The aspect of creation and beginnings. Space is new things, focused on the wait-and-see, the big picture, the here-and-now, the journey over the destination. Space is destiny, matter, physics, making, innovation, and intuition. Space is a vast endless infinity of possibility.

Narrative connection: Setting.

Spaces opposing aspect is Time.

[Space is one of the fundamental fabrics making up paradox space and is therefore an aspect required to win Sburb. If your session does not have a Space player, your session is doomed to fail.]

Life: The aspect of agency and autonomy. Life is foraging your own path, own destiny, self-direction, growing and strengthening. Life is nature, health, resilience, energy, progress, healing, vitality, and nourishment. Life sees its route and fights to take it.

Narrative connection: Agency/action.

Life’s opposing aspect is Doom.

Hope: The aspect of belief. Hope is dreams and wishes, blind optimism, unstoppable force, the "there’s always a way, nothings impossible". Hope is faith, possibility, positivity, will, imagination, and determination. Hope is a clear, enthusiastic "YES!".

Narrative connection: Convenience.

Hopes opposing aspect is Rage.

Void: The aspect of nothingness and the unknown. Void is a blank canvas, an empty page, a dark corner, a shadow concealing darkness. Void is secrets, mystery, invisibility, unexplained, ignorance, irrelevance, and uncertainty. Void obscures what the light can't reach.

Narrative connection: Plot irrelevance.

Voids opposing aspect is Light.

Heart: The aspect of feeling and self. Heart is the core of a person, their identity, passions and interests, the soul, feelings instead of thoughts. Heart is motivation, love, emotions, uniqueness, personal, individualism, bias, and passion. Heart follows itself.

Narrative connection: Inner self.

Hearts opposing aspect is Mind.

Blood: The aspect of unity. Blood is down to earth, grounded and chained, has expectations, forms relationships. Blood is community, responsibility, care, effort, stability, obligation, and connection. Blood is running through everyone's veins and knows it.

Narrative connection: Character dynamics.

Blood’s opposing aspect is Breath.

Mind: The aspect of thought. Mind is unbiased decision making, apathy, black and white, blends in with the crowd. Mind is equality, ration, logic, reason, judgement, calculation, choice, balance, and justification. Mind pushes away feelings and thinks instead.

Narrative connection: Outer self.

Minds opposing aspect is Heart.

Doom: The aspect of fate and constraint. Doom works within the rules, within restriction, follows damands. Doom is burdens, prophecy, acceptance, necessity, limitation, punishment, and misfortune. Doom does not negotiate against the inevitable.

Narrative connection: Conflict.

Doom’s opposing aspect is Life.

Rage: The aspect of refusal and rebellion. Rage is the ugly truth, holding back, immovable object, being stuck, “it’s impossible, there’s no way out”. Rage is cynicism, defiance, fury, negativity, anger, riot and revenge. Rage is a loud, guttural “NO!”.

Narrative connection: Contrivance.

Rage’s opposing aspect is Hope.

Classes

Classes are the second ingredient of the Classpect formula. Since an aspect is a cosmic property that relates most to a player, a class is how that player USES/INTERACTS with that cosmic property & its powers. Classes are NOT something a player struggles with and are just dictated by how they approach/play the game.

Classes are a neutral and nuanced concept- no class is a “worse/better” or “evolved” version of another, no class is gender locked, and no class is inherently good nor bad.

There are six functions of classes: creation, destruction, exploitation, manipulation, knowledge, and relocation.

[Creation: Bringing something into existence.

Destruction: Taking something out of existence.

Exploitation: Having something and using it.

Manipulation: Changing or altering something.

Knowledge: Knowing all about something.

Relocation: Stealing and/or moving something.]

The 14 classes: Heir, Seer, Knight, Witch, Maid, Page, Rogue, Prince, Mage, Sylph, Thief, and Bard, and the two master classes: Lord and Muse.

Heir: One who changes with their aspect or is changed through their aspect. Heirs inherit their aspect and can greatly use it for their session and coplayers.

Class function: Manipulation.

Heirs' counterpart class is Witch.

Seer: One who knows their aspect or knows through their aspect. Seers are knowledge-seekers who obtain information by observing, and guide their coplayers using what they learn.

Class function: Knowledge.

Seer's counterpart class is Mage.

Knight: One who fights for/protects their aspect or fights/protects using their aspect. Knights are set on serving and defending their session and coplayers, using their persona as a shield and their aspect as a weapon.

Class function: Exploitation.

Knight's counterpart class is Page.

Witch: One who alters/bends their aspect or alters/bends using their aspect. Witches utilize their powers to bend the rules and test the limits of their aspect and session itself.

Class function: Manipulation.

Witch's counterpart class is Heir.

Maid: One who serves/repairs their aspect or serves/repairs with their aspect. Maids clean, preserve, and maintain their session with/and their aspect, just as a housekeeper would.

Class function: Creation.

Maid's counterpart class is Sylph.

Page: One who strengthens their aspect or finds themselves through their aspect. Pages start out as weaker underdogs, but once their potential is fully realized, they can use their power to an astounding degree.

Class function: Exploitation.

Page's counterpart class is Knight.

Rogue: One who steals their aspect or steals from their aspect to provide others with it. Rouges take from their aspect and redistribute what they steal to their coplayers Robin Hood style.

Class function: Relocation.

Rouge's counterpart class is Thief.

Prince: One who destroys their aspect or destroys with their aspect. Princes are powerful, blunt forces in their session who once fully realized, will stop at nothing until they reach their goal.

Class function: Destruction.

Prince's counterpart class is Bard.

Mage: One who understands their aspect or understands through their aspect. Mages are the experiencers of their aspect that utilize their experience with it to guide themselves.

Class function: Knowledge.

Mage's counterpart class is Seer.

Thief: One who steals their aspect or steals from their aspect to keep themselves. Thieves are focused on taking from their session and others in it, then keeping that power for their own benefit.

Class function: Relocation.

Thief's counterpart class is Rogue.

Sylph: One who heals/mends their aspect or heals/mends using their aspect. Sylphs are vastly supportive to their coplayers through both backstage influence and personal interference.

Class function: Creation.

Sylph's counterpart class is Maid.

Bard: One who allows the destruction of their aspect or invites destruction through their aspect. Bards can be kind of a wildcard for their session, possibly for the best (or the worst).

Class function: Destruction.

Bard's counterpart class is Prince.

Master Classes

Lord: One who rules their aspect or rules using their aspect. Lords are intensely powerful domineers who command their aspect, session, and everything in it to bow down to them.

Lord's counterpart class is Muse.

Muse: One who inspires their aspect or inspires through their aspect. Muses are completely in tune with their aspect and influence their session with it, leading it like a conductor with their baton.

Muse's counterpart class is Lord.

#homestuck analysis #classpects #homestuck #classpect analysis

[pursuitseternal]

“Bites in the Night: Part 3…” Astarion x Reader on the road… with sexy daggers this time ⚔️

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Part 3: “Daggers are a love language, my sweet…”

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4k of swords + smut

Summary: You keep watch over your companions, but after the events of the… and after weeks of growing closer with your Vampire Rogue in terms other than sex… you need to burn some of your energy off. A midnight session with your blades seems the solution… especially when you find yourself with… a sparring partner.

Inspired by Careful—ibite’s post and amazing blog! Thank you @careful---ibite !

CW: sword sexual innuendo, getting handedly defeated by Astarion, true feelings confession ™️, NSFW: forest edition, and some bad “sheathing” puns that make Astarion roll his eyes.

Read here if you prefer AO3

Don’t lose your breath on this one, Darling…

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Keeping watch, you sit by the fire, the sound of your companions breathing joins the soft crackles and pops of the fire. Your rotation falls tonight, it’s crisp in the mountains, the pine air is cool, so you stay by the fire, tending it until your watch is done. Keeping the others warm and safe.

Well…. All the others except for Astarion. You watched him slip into the trees an hour ago, one last look thrown you way over his shoulder. Your vampire, heading out to hunt.

Your heart aches, knowing full well just how many long horrors he endured as a spawn. Watching him hide that self doubt behind his swagger, covering his self-loathing behind constant flirtation as smooth as silk. It had been easy to give him the space he had asked for you, to grow in your knowledge of one another, not just carnally.

In fact, it had been weeks. Traveling and fighting, and seeking down cures… and all the while, he had not asked for you to come to his bed again. Of course, he had crept beside yours to feed when you gave him every opportunity, but his touches were light. You scoff to yourself, thinking as you scan the treeline for movement. You would call his attentions almost chaste if it were not for the way he looks at you, undressing you in his mind, and the way his words beckon you with every little flirtatious thought that crosses that same dirty mind.

But you wait. You show him there is more to intimacy than fucking. Every conversation you have, every time you offer for him to feed when he begins to look haphazard and bedraggled, all those little ways you do care.

Grabbing two more logs, you set them in the blaze. Wiping your hands together, you slowly stand, eyeing the rest of your party as they sleep. Blissful for now. Exhausted from the journey and from your latest grisly encounter of the day. Sometimes, you had even seen your own life flash before your eyes, let alone watched in horror as every one of your companions nearly met an end today.

It was a rest well deserved. And you had taken the watch tonight, guilt plaguing you to have put every single one of them in such mortal peril.

Nothing a little self-prescribed training couldn’t fix. Or at least, couldn’t help clear your conscience.

You check your hips, blade on one side, dagger at the other. These weapons were… newly acquired. Well, stolen… well, stolen for you by your Vampire rogue. Thievery seemed to be his love language. But they were unfamiliar at best, their balance, their grip were strange, even if they were stronger and more powerful. And it had almost cost lives today.

You walk towards the forest, sure that the fire would keep burning for a couple hours at least now. The hard scrape of your weapons as you draw them both sets you on edge, wakes you up.

They feel light, lighter than the blades you knew. You give them a spin, the soft handles steady in your palms, trying hard not to fumble them, to catch your fingers on the elegant cross guards. Holding them aloft, you settle yourself on the balls of your toes, readying stance, primed to begin your forms. They flow through you, form after form, swiping and stabbing and parrying. Slowly. Carefully at first.

Then you pick up speed. Swiping faster, sword and dagger more familiar now. You spin on your toes, as if you mean to strike your enemies from behind.

And you jolt as your blade meets another with a clang.

Astarion smirks at you, that twist of his lips and cant of his brows that makes your blood run hot. His dagger shines in the moonlight as he slowly scrapes it down the length of your sword.

“Hello, darling,” he purrs. “I see you took some advice to practice for once.” He pushes your sword to your side, but that sharpened dagger still remains in his hand, his smirk widens as he slowly presses its point beneath your chin.

You laugh, breathless, unable to deny the edge of fear he still manages to incite in you. “Amazing, Astarion,” you try to laugh, feeling his body drawing closer. “You can’t help but shove cold, pointed things in my face even when we aren’t…”

“What?” he smirks wider, clearly enjoying where this is going, “doing the deed?”

Your own smirk turns your mouth, your tongue suddenly wet as you try to swallow. Not as wet as other parts of your grow, however. “Exactly,” you manage to reply the single word steadily.

“Hmm, yes, about that,” he continues, voice suddenly quiet and steady and raw. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for you. You are different, you do care. Enough to actually become acquainted with me, to come to know me, more than I do myself it seems.” That veil of seduction slips, his voice cracking a bit as he lowers his dagger from your skin. “Today, watching you almost get vivisected on some enemy spear, however, made me realize many things.”

“Oh?” you breathe. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, hard and throbbing to hear his confessions, and to be reminded of your burning guilt yet again.

“Many things,” he repeats, “the least of which is that you are far too precious to me to watch you die.” His words are filled with ache, his crimson eyes wide and wet as he looks down at you.

Tears? you wonder. It is too dark to really see, but from the way his voice seems to stick in his throat…

But he clears his voice, quickly back to that honeyed tone. “I also realize that you need a sparring partner, training alone will only do you so much good. And since I’m so much better than you…”

You step back, folding your arms across your chest, trying to be exacting. But your back bumps unceremoniously against some pine. And his body closes in to cover you, faster than you can gasp. His hands pin you in, splaying around your shoulders as he pushes into your frame, your back scratched by the peeling bark. But you can’t care. Not with the ecstacy of his body bearing into you, all hard and strong and everywhere.

You sigh, “Gods, I’ve missed this…” the words are out of your mouth before you can even think them.

“Mmm, I have, as well,” his words rasp in your mouth, his lips, his fangs so close again. “Almost losing you today, I realized one more thing, that I would go mad, I would rather die, than to lose you, to live my life alone without your affection, your care… and without that perfect body of yours, darling.”

Molten. Your blood is singing in your veins, your mouth waters and your cunt aches, positively drenching your breeches, you are sure.

Your body writhes, a little unbidden roll of your hips against him as he presses you harder.

“Your dual-wielding requires finesse, darling,” he is insufferable, the way his eyes skate over your face, fixing on the way your veins pulse in your neck. “Shame I only have one weapon you could grip to practice with… guess we will have to do this the old-fashioned way…”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to think of you in terms of….”

“A person can have a change of heart, can’t they?” His voice is like music, lilting and deep. “In fact, I’d like to up the ante, raise the stakes a bit, my dear…”

He withdraws from you, his hands unsheathing two daggers, so sharp you can almost hear them whistle in the air as he grips them with a flourish. A smile plays around his lips, more enticing than fear inducing, though you feel both pounding in your body as you watch him square up to you. “If you win, you get to have me in whatever fashion you so desire, darling. Let your imagination run wild….”

“And if you win?” You force an air of confidence, a swing of your side sword and dagger that mimics his own flare.

But Astarion only laughs, that rapid, low-toned giggle as he grins so wide, you see his fangs in the starlight. “No spoilers, my dear, but I promise you will never forget it…”

“You’re not going to…”

“Kill you? No,” his brows furrow in a rush of hurt. “Weren’t you listening? The only way for me not to personally worry myself into another grave about you is to make sure you are up to snuff with those new blades. Now, put up and shut up….” He breathes, a deep exhale that eases the clenching of his body, “…darling.”

You smile, heart pounding as you take the sight of him in. You remember the way you first met… his dagger at your throat, your body trapped between his legs. And now, the way he sways on his feet, a bit feline and totally predacious. His fingers twitch on the hilts of his elegant blades, his eyes watching you. Daring you. Assessing you.

He waits for you to move first. So you do, you stab, you spin. But every swing of your sword, he deflects, barely moving as he parries you just so easily. There is no way, no way his two short daggers should be able to work the magic he draws from them. They seem part of his body, just as cold and hard, sharper than his tongue.

You try a few more swings, doing your best to catch him off guard. But he always anticipates you. Always blocks you. Steady and unmoving.

Until he begins to press his advantage. You notice the way he begins to lean on his toes, his dodges becoming advances, his parries turning into quick little attacks. And then, you see him smile, brow arching in that rakish way that unsettles your stomach and makes your neck burn where he bites you.

He lunges, his blades everywhere at once. His silver hair whips in the breeze, moving so quickly. You dodge, having to retreat step after step, so you don’t get sliced by more than his fangs. You manage to hook one dagger with yours, a slight twist sends it careening to the forest floor. But it’s all he will allow you as a small victory. He knocks first one blade out of your grip, then the next.

His empty hand grips both of yours, lighting-quick speed flying you back against that same fated tree. He raises your arms above your head, pinned in one large, icy palm, leaving you dangling by his preternatural strength.

But that other hand still holds one weapon, its sharp tip pressing along the line of your jaw.

You pant, unable to catch your breath or cease your racing heart. But he, he stands, cooler than the shade, not even a sweat on his brow. He lets the blade of his dagger score down your skin, careful not to cut. Just the delicious drag of metal to send you panting and writhing.

“It would seem you lost, darling…”

“Have I, though?” you let yourself give in to the feeling of being his prey. Savoring the clenching of his body as he cages you in. “I’m fairly certain by now you just shove daggers at my throat as a way of saying you want me, Astarion…”

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth and cocks his head, eyeing you with deep enjoyment. “Daggers are a love language, my sweet, one of my favorites.” He leans in closer to you, that dangerous blade still pushed gently against your flesh. “When you’ve seduced as many as I have, you learn to use… all… your weapons. But I’ve saved the best for you, my love.”

“Thoughtful of you, my love,” you match his ardor, throwing the same new pet name back between his hovering lips.

“Mmm, best wait to thank me until I’ve finished claiming my victory, since you…” he reaches your hands higher above you head, blade of his dagger slipping like hard silk under your chin, tilting your mouth higher. Closer. “… since you lost, darling.”

“Did I? I’m pretty sure I’ll win, once you’ve… stowed your weapon…”

His eyes flash in humor, a giggle erupting loudly from his throat. “Gods, don’t spoil my winnings with such puns, I plan to have such a good time…”

Your lips flutter, stomach sinking to your knees, pulling on his hand that holds you pinned, raising on the tips of your toes until his blade slips away and your lips crash into his. He releases the dagger, letting clatter at your feet. Unleashing his favorite weapons, his lust and his fangs, and both tear into you. The surge of his hunger pushes into you, his tongue tangling with your, his hands dropping, caressing and massaging your body everywhere. Like he can’t feel you enough. Can’t bring him into his body, his mouth enough to sate him.

Your hands meet his in equal need, your fingers tearing at his doublet, snapping the buttons until Astarion can easily shirk it off. His hands make quick work of his own tunic, and you hold your breath, the moment you see that ivory body, chiseled and hard and perfect. You throb for more. Hand cupping at the back of your neck, he devours you again, lips working yours with demand, your hands wandering up and down the ridges of his stomach. That always hungry stomach. Your hands pull him, all your pent up need igniting to feel his smooth, icy skin against you. You pull your own shirt from your breeches, his hands instantly aiding, making quick work of it, pulling it over your head.

He won’t stop there, instantly ripping into your breeches, tearing them open until you feel his cool touch slipping into your folds. So swollen, so drenched, you shudder, instantly throwing your head back against the tree.

“More,” you pant, sliding your own clothing from your legs.

“If you joke about sheathing my weapon, right now; I swear I’ll bite you…” he growls, hand freed now to work into you all the more.

“You’re going to bite me anyway,” you sigh a laugh, “why not let you stow…”

His mouth stops your words, his fingers crooking and thrusting into your folds, arousal dripping down his knuckles, making other noises come from your throat than less-than-tasteful wordplay.

Your hands shake, fingers trying so hard to free the buckle at his waist, to sneak into the fastened band of his breeches. Fumbling with the clasp, you make him gasp, scoring your nails into his belly.

He hisses into your mouth, “Careful, love, unless you’re so eager to draw my blood. Just as much a danger with your nails as you are your blades…”

You laugh, slow as his hand slips from inside you, giving you the aid you seek with haste. Clothing falls, his cock springs free, prodding against your mound, your belly. His skin is a relief against your flushed body, you crave more. Need more.

He sees it on your face as he looks down at you. “Gods, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, “the glisten of your sweat, the dilation of your eyes and swell of your kissed lips… the only thing missing is a little blood…” his face quirks into that rakish leer, twisting smirk and canting brows. You nod, pulling your own hair from your neck, crying out the moment he bites into you. The intoxicating way you feel him feeding, swallowing down your blood, you bodies joined before he even fucks you. You moan, aching for more of him as he lifts his mouth from your skin.

Hands grasp at your ass, lifting you, and you jump into his arms. He treads to the mossy hills around you, settling you down. Covering you with the weight of his body, the force of his desire that you had craved for so, so long.

You would have it no other way, giving him everything under the stars, finally seeing his eyes fixed into yours as he enters you. At last. His words run dry, mouth far too busy stealing your breath and tongue too occupied dancing with yours to make any sultry remarks.

He is speechless. But the thrusts of his body, the obsessive stare into your eyes, the working of his kiss, it showers you with more praise than any flirtation ever had.

This. This was real. No holding back, no pretense. Just his absolute need to bury himself to his balls in you. To consume your every living breath as if it would give him life again.

He takes his time, making you feel every inch of his massive length dragging through you, in and out. His arms wrap you into him, clinging around your shoulders. And you do the same, hands clutching those mysterious lines of infernal that cover the clenching muscles of his back. You wrap him in your arms, your legs, as if to reassure him you won’t let go. Won’t ever let go. His breathing grows harsh, damp in your mouth. Aching as if a million emotions will burst from his chest. Your hands move to his cheeks, feeling them slightly damp beneath your fingers.

Sweat or tears, you don’t know. You can’t know in this darkness. But he wants it that way. You kiss the damp, salt on your lips as you keep your mouth there. Hands cradling his face as he still draws himself in and out.

You breathe his name, your hands caressing into those silver silken locks… “Astarion…”

Something between you shifts he lifts his head, mouth devouring yours, hands wandering from that hard embrace to cling to your ass, holding you as his thrusts suddenly pick up speed, hammering into you with all the precision and force of his fighting. You can feel him winding tight like a spring, bearing into you with hunger. Single focused need. As if you are the last morsel between him and starvation.

He grunts with each thrust, your own wave of climax swirling through you, driven higher with his pounding. The slaps of his body against yours echo in your ears, his voice silken even as he curses, “Gods below, so tight, so wet… so good…”

You shatter with his praise, tumbling in a writhing stuttering, wet mess as you come. His head thrown back, face blissfully contorted, he follows you into his own. Hardest yet, he slams into you, collapsing against your body on the forest floor.

His head nestles into the crook of your shoulder, blood still seeping. And you don’t fail to notice that his tongue licks you slowly.

“Well, handsome victor,” you tease, “enjoy your prize?”

He props himself up from you slightly, his eyes even smirking as he smiles. A little swivel of his hips drags his still hard cock through the mingling juices of you both. “Enjoy it? Yes, very much, my love. But I am hardly satisfied…” He giggles in that bubbly way of his, pulling out and pulling you to your feet. “I think it requires closer inspection in my tent…”

He doesn’t stop to collect your clothes or your weapons, no. His strength is tenfold with all your blood inside him as he bends down to throw you over his shoulder. You give a muffled yelp, one he corrects with a slight slap on your rear as you dangle down his back.

“Prizes don’t need to draw so much attention to themselves, darling…” He carries you, your body swaying over his shoulder like some good he pinched, coming closer and closer to the circle of light from your camp.

“Attention? I was on watch, Astarion,” you growl, mortified as you realize what you abandoned.

“Not anymore,” you hear a sleepy voice from behind you. Gale clears his throat louder as he does not approach you, your naked vampire rogue drawing nearer to his own tent. “You’re both off the watch rotation until you can practice some self control.” He sounds grumpy, but you don’t care as Astarion swings you around.

“I’ll be much obliged to you, wizard,” he taunts, running a hand over the pert swell of your ass “Might take some time you know…. Practice does make perfect…”

#astarion romance #baldur’s gate spoilers #astarion baldurs gate #astarion smut #vampire romance #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate iii #baldurs gate smut #baldurs gate spoilers #baldur’s gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldursgate3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x mc #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x reader #reader x astarion #x reader #astarion x tav

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Stubborn Sickness - D.Malfoy

Summary - Y/N is too stubborn to take a pepperup potion even though she is sick and madam Pomphrey has a bunch. The kind hearted slytherin in turn suffers through it in her boyfriend’s bed, snoring her days away. Thankfully Pansy is there to save the day and give her best friend the potion that will make her better. 

Word Count - 819

Warnings - Illness(common cold), swearing, use of y/n, female reader, Theo and Pansy are kinda comedic relief, (let me know If I missed any)

Author's Note- Day Six! Welcome! This is my first Draco fic but it really doesn't have a lot of Draco. I am still trying my damndest to keep up with the 25 days! I'm writing and scheduling my uploads ahead of time!

Harry Potter Masterlist

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

Because of the winter, illnesses were inevitable, students at a constant rotation in the hospital wing for a pepperup potion. There were a few students however, that were particularly stubborn, one of them being Y/N Y/L/N. She knew how busy madam Pomphrey was during this time of year, so she wanted to lessen the load a little bit, even if it was just by one student. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, thought she was being an idiot for not going to get the potion. 

Draco, the ever dutiful boyfriend, was at his ill girlfriend’s every beck and call. She was staying in his dorm so his roommates also had to go through the pleasures of her acting like she was dying over a cold. She had been sleeping in Draco’s bed, covers pulled up over her shoulders, tissues scattered around her, snoring due to her clogged sinuses. 

She woke with a start due to a pillow smacking into her head. “What the fuck!?” She whined, her eyes still closed, her mouth completely dry. 

“You snore louder than a dragon! I’m trying to study here,” Theo complained right back.

“I can’t help it, I’m sick! I don’t usually snore, go study in the library if it bothers you that much.”

Draco walked into the room, a glass of water in his hand and his bag swung over his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of her snoring, she can’t help what she does while she sleeps. Darling, you snore all the time, it’s just louder than usual,” Draco chimed in, dropping his bag at the end of his bed and giving her the glass of water. He made sure she drank at least half before he went about pulling any homework out of his bag. 

“I snore all the time?” She questioned her boyfriend.

“Yes, but it’s cute! And you know I’d never lie to you.” He was in the process of starting his homework and handing Y/N hers. She pouted but started her homework with Draco. She was halfway through before she went into a sneezing fit, her boyfriend sighing because he had been pestering her to go see Pomphrey which she kept refusing. 

“At this point just ask Snape for the damn potion. I don’t want to get sick too,” Blaise added to the conversation. 

“I’m not gonna get you sick!” Before Blaise and Theo could go back at her, Pansy waltzed into the room like it was her own. In her hand she held a potion, more specifically the pepperup potion and it was enough for all of them just in case the boys got sick too. 

“I come bearing a gift! Not only is there enough for our dear Y/N, but there’s also enough for the rest of you if you get sick. Well, more like when you get sick,” Pansy sing-songed as she skipped to her sick friend. Y/N was more than thankful for her friend and roommate, willingly taking the bit of potion that Pansy had given her. 

She started to feel better after about an hour, her sinuses opening up, her headache disappearing, and the ache in her body leaving completely. She spent the rest of her night catching up on homework and cleaning up around the dorm since she had taken over for a few days. Draco insisted she stayed one more night with him before returning to her own room so of course she couldn’t say no. 

The next morning she was once again rudely woken up, this time it was the boys around her all whining. She had officially gotten all of them sick, including Draco who was still asleep but snoring like a freight train. Oh how the tables have turned, the boys choosing to give her a taste of her own medicine, having her bring them tissues and their homework as well as going into the kitchens to get them all food.

Later that day, after all of them agreed to take the potion, she felt relieved and exhausted. “I am never going to be stubborn about this bloody potion ever again, you guys are too much!” She ranted.

“Karma,” Pansy added in her two cents. 

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“Not at all darling. We were just exaggerating,” Draco assured his girlfriend.

“No, you were worse,” Theo told her truthfully.

“What the fuck, Nott! I told you not to say anything!”

 “I can’t lie to her!  She’s one of my best friends, Malfoy! I need to tell her the truth about how whiney she actually was.”

Her face was hot with embarrassment, as she hid her head in Draco’s neck. She was slightly thankful for Theo’s honesty, she never realized how bad she actually was when she was sick. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll always take care of you when you’re sick, even if you’re too stubborn to take a pepperup potion.”

#harry potter #professor snape #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #hpdm #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x fem!reader #draco malfoy x you #hp fandom #harry potter fandom #draco malfoy fanfiction

[devilmademewriteit]

completely inspired by a gif set u reblogged. Javi helping you into a bullet proof/tactical vest. you’re scared and he just says a gentle “arms up” as he secures the velcro. he’s scared as well, doesn’t wanna lose you, doesn’t want you to get hurt. but it’s like the fear, the adrenaline, has your emotions haywire and you look into his eyes as he takes hold of your hand so gently and tells you that you’re gonna be okay, and you just want to kiss him, and he wants to kiss you too, but then it’s time to go, and he tells you “later”

IDK WHAT THIS IS LMFAO Javi brings the slut outta me

you’ve inspired me anon here is a TINY FIC/DRABBLE YEEEEEEEE

pairing: javier peña x fem!afab!reader

warnings: fem!afab!reader; use of pet name ‘sweetheart’; canon-typical allusions to violence; language; ANGSTY POO

omg I can’t believe there’s no smut. GUYS I WROTE SOMETHING WITHOUT SMUT. I loooove writing my javi tho so while im busting my ass working on Salvatore part 3 feel so free to leave me lil thingies like this.

-em<3

—

“Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but—”

It was never supposed to be like this.

It was just a summer job — something safe, boring, admin and agendas and addendums. Should’ve known better, taking a government job in the world’s most dangerous city.

She should’ve known better, taking a government job in the world’s most dangerous city. Shit. My chest feels like it’s on fire, burnin’ through kerosene.

Is she gonna clock how unsteady I am?

Javi’s footsteps echo down the nearby hallway; you recognize them immediately, and their slanted, hard-right-drag-left rhythm. He comes lumbering through the door, cradling tactical gear between his big, bulging biceps. God, you’d had… thoughts about those biceps.

Even now, with the embassy under cartel-siege, it’s oh-so-hard to push away the x-rated daydreams swirling inside your stress-addled mind.

And he doesn’t look scared.

Fuck, she looks so scared.

“Here,” he says, extending the protective vest towards you. Gingerly peeling your hips off of the desk at your back, you extend your fingers to greet and grab at the rough, thick canvas. The sheer weight of it makes your heart lurch into your throat. Neither one of you lowers your hands.

The dark-green-death-sweater you’d seen him wear so many times, cursing yourself for registering, for caring about what it meant.

That it meant Peña — schmoozing, cocky, effortlessly crude Javier Peña — was going into the field.

So neither of you let go.

The stupid vest had always served as a kind of divining rod, leading you both to the real source of your constant bickering, your irritation and the look of mutual, unabashed worry you had shared as a soldier came bursting into the office, panting in tune with the sirens, carrying news of the currently unfolding attack.

Caring without meaning to.

Giving a shit without wanting to.

“I-“ you swallow, trailing off, cursing the swelling bubble forming at neck-breaking speed inside your throat, “I don’t know what to do with this.”

Of course she doesn’t. That one’s on me. ‘Thing like her should never have to wear one of these.

Shouldn’t even have to see one of these.

“S’okay,” he mutters, taking the burden of the gear into his hands, brow furrowing into a look of delicate responsibility. “Turn around.”

Under different circumstances, those words might’ve (embarrassingly enough) enticed a very different feeling from you.

Now, they were simply effective.

Acceding, you rotate, painfully slowly as every hair along your spine lifts, one after the other. Peña shuffles, adjusting both himself and the gear to stand close — too close — behind you.

“Arms up, sweetheart.”

You listen, dragging your arms up into the static air, trying to ignore the soft edge in his voice. It reminds you of something.

Something like resistance.

Stifled want.

Desire with a sock shoved down its bone-dry throat.

And it’s so level, so calm. How is he so calm?

Can she tell I’m totally freaking out?

Your shoulders sag under the weight of the vest. Jesus. It’s so much heavier than you’d imagined. Not quite as heavy as the feeling of doom settling over you, grief from the naive sense of safety you’d walked into work with.

Just this morning.

Javi busies himself with the Velcro, uncharacteristically silent. His knuckles brush the insides of your wrists, and you try to resist it — God, you really do — but all efforts to keep those prickling tears at bay are undertaken in vain.

You quiver slightly, face burning in shame.

Is she shaking?

Gentle, unusually gentle when his fingers wrap around your upper arm, spinning you around to face him once more.

“Look at me.”

You do. His shadowed eyes swim, dance, rage with experience, and you’re left envious, wishing that you’d hardened yourself to the world in the same way. How many times had this man woken up, driven to work, drunk his morning coffee and smoked his morning smoke, accepting that it could be his last?

Knowing Peña, he probably found ways not to think about it.

For sure, he didn’t think about it.

But you did.

Every time that vest came out.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, alright?”

It’s an almost whisper, a mere brush of air against your brow. His own creases in earnestness as he utters the pledge.

“How can you do this for a living?”

You don’t mean for it to come out so rough and jagged, hissing for help like a neglected kettle on the stove. Javi offers you a smile of understanding as though remembering his own first time.

Then, before either of you can stop it, he places the flat of his palm to your cheek.

And you can’t keep from noticing how easily the calloused pad of his thumb molds to your complying skin.

“You get used to it,” he returns, and every word is coated, soaked in the sad, tragic truth. “Though this part’s always hard.”

Nothing exists beyond the smell of tobacco on his breath and the total absorption in his eyes. You’re sure the latter is mirrored in your own, too.

Timid, uneasy, begging him to ease the discomfort for you. “What part is this?”

The part where I lie to you. The part where I bubble-wrap the only thing in this country worth protecting into a shitty, almost useless accessory of war.

The part where I remember—

Is it the part where we remember how easily we could lose each other?

And we don’t even have each other, for God’s sake. Lookin’ up at me as if she can trust me, and the only thing I’ve been able to trust for years is that the moment will come, that moment where it all just gets to be too much and fuck—is this it? Maybe—

This is the part where we—

Kiss her, God, I just wanna fuckin’ kiss her—

Kiss?

“Peña! Time to move!”

Murphy’s voice slices — easily — through the tentative moment of uncertainty. It erodes the softness of Javi’s features into that familiar, hardened stone.

His hand drops from your face, but the tracings linger.

If you couldn’t trust the world outside, maybe you could trust Javi inside. Maybe he’d learned to live without something to lean on, but you weren’t yet prepared to go on—

She doesn’t know how much I fuckin’ need her. Or how many times I’ve tried to say it—and in so many ways—but every time I open my goddamn mouth it just comes out… wrong. Like it’s not enough. Like it’s not true that I can finally fuckin’ breathe when she’s… just… existing around me. Like losing her wouldn’t mean goin’ on—

Faithlessly. Radically accepting the confusing, overwhelming uncertainty of the world.

He clears his throat.

“I’ll see you after.”

Your gaze tumbles down, averting the twinge of dishonesty in his own at his promise.

“Yeah—yeah, see you after.”

He backs away without turning. For a moment, you think he’s gearing up to say something. Something like he always says, like, don’t be a fuckin’ idiot, or use your head or maybe even a smile, sweetheart.

But he doesn’t. He just shakes his head, his dark hair tumbling around and exaggerating his hesitation. Although it hurts, you force yourself to watch as he walks away. How he bows his crown, brings a hand up to anxiously rub at the side of his jaw, the roundness of his shoulder responding and near-bulging under the blue cotton.

Admittedly, a kiss from Javier Peña would’ve been nice.

But to be cradled between those arms, wrapped up in him instead of the goddamn tactical gear squeezing, robbing the air from your lungs…

That would’ve been it.

When this is all over, you think to yourself.

And as Javi greets Steve, apologizing for the delay, the hand squeezing his gun feels strangely empty, haunted by the novelty of touching your burning skin.

When this is all over, he thinks to himself.

Anyways, isn’t that what faith is? Making plans for later, as if anyone’s ‘later’ is promised, a guarantee? As if either of you could count on tomorrow?

Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

Joining the gaggle of scared, hopeless government employees, desperate for reassurance, for the realization blooming inside the depths of your knowing; you pause, letting it hit you, translating it into words…

“—I have it.”

—

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x female reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña x y/n #javier peña angst #javier pena narcos #javier peña fic #javier pena x y/n #javier pena #narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

[nameless-ken]

Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

I'm so excited about my brand new series! Not going to lie this first chapter was difficult for me to write. I have a serious battle with the dreaded delete button!

Anyways, hope you all enjoy this first chapter. It truly means a lot to me how excited you have been for this series <3 Comment below to be added to the taglist.

(Please reblog!!!)

Happy reading!

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: mostly angst with some slight rude remarks/bullying

Introduction to the series here!

Masterlist

(had this song in my head while writing this chapter)

In the tumultuous whirlwind of your teenage existence, embarking on your final year of high school, you've recently become aware of a singular truth: put full trust into the future that stretches far beyond the grasp of your present moment. Amidst the unexpected certainties that await, there's one you never anticipated – Billy Hargrove.

Billy reigns as the new king of Hawkins High, his “coronation” following the departure of Steve "The Hair" Harrington. He embodies the archetype of a manic attention-seeker, parading through the halls with a rotating carousel of girls, each week presenting a fresh face to the crowded hallways. It's a spectacle that leaves you utterly perplexed, unable to fathom the allure that draws countless girls into his orbit, only to be summarily discarded days later.

Thankfully, you've managed to maintain a safe distance from Billy and his band of lunatics, skillfully navigating the school corridors to avoid any unwanted encounters. While you share a few classes with his entourage, you've strategically positioned yourself in the front row, creating a buffer zone that shields you from their antics.

However, fate has a penchant for upheaval, as evidenced by your first detention – a consequence of arriving late to homeroom on three separate occasions. As you begrudgingly endure the mind-numbing 30-minute sentence after school, Robin, your loquacious best friend, offers her trademark blend of sympathy and sarcasm.

“They seriously gave you a detention for that? Couldn’t you pull the ‘I’m a straight A student who has never gotten in trouble before, please help dear little me this one time’ on them?” 

“Sadly no. I definitely tried to get out of it but they’ve been cracking down on a bunch of seniors for a couple weeks now.” 

“I'll wait up for you after band practice.” Robin slams her locker shut. 

“Thanks. See you later.” You turn to go down the opposite hallway than her. 

“Have fun troublemaker.” Robin pokes fun at your new “status” and you give her the finger back jokingly before you both wave and disappear down your own paths.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to the monotony of detention, selecting a seat near the window to alleviate the stifling atmosphere of confinement. The rules plastered on the board, NO FOOD. NO TALKING. STAY IN YOUR SEAT, serve as a constant reminder of the school’s misguided attempts at discipline.

You roll your eyes at the obnoxious nature of this situation. Why do schools think detention is ever going to work? You are put in a room for a certain amount of time with other delinquents. If anything you’re setting up a scenario for more trouble to happen. 

You pull out the current book you're reading, ignoring all the rest of the students who walk in. 

“Alright, welcome to detention. I have quite a lot of work to finish so I will be checking in periodically. When it’s your time to leave per your detention slip, come see me in my classroom and I’ll sign you out. Please respect the rules.” Mr. Thomson, the junior science teacher turned detention overseer, delivers a perfunctory address before retreating to his sanctuary, leaving the delinquent assembly to their own devices. 

Amidst the murmurs of discontent, Billy's name resonates like a discordant note, signaling the unwelcome intrusion of Hawkins High's reigning sovereign.

“Are we gonna flake out again Billy?” It didn’t even cross your mind about the possibility of being stuck in the same room as him.

“Can’t. I’ve skipped so many that they want to try and expel me.” 

“That'd be hardcore to see.” 

“Not to my dad it wouldn’t. Besides, it's not that bad. We have quite the sight sitting up there in the left corner today.” 

As Billy and his cohorts encroach upon your solitude, you bury your nose in your book in a feeble attempt to shield yourself from their presence. 

“Let’s have some fun.” You turn another page as footsteps echo towards you, stopping in front of your occupance. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met.” 

You don’t give him the time of day in reality but in your head, you’re fighting with the embarrassment and attention he’s solely giving you right now. Billy's charisma knows no bounds, his toothy grin and smug demeanor penetrate your defenses with effortless ease.

“I’m Billy but you may already know that. What’s your name, little mouse?” Billy rests his hands face down on your desk, leaning in so his face is parallel with yours. 

“Such a quiet thing.” Ignoring his advances proves to be an exercise in futility as Billy's persistent pestering chips away at your resolve, culminating in a daring theft of your cherished book. Yet, you refuse to grant him the satisfaction of a response, maintaining a stoic facade despite the numerous emotions raging beneath the surface.

“It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.” His friend to the right chimes in. 

“There’s some ways I can think of to change that.” You look up, narrow eyes meeting Billy’s. He sends you a wink with his usual smirk resting on his face. 

“Not going to say anything?” You can feel your heart racing, hating the way he’s making you feel, more annoying that he’s causing any kind of reaction from you. 

The sudden arrival of Mr. Thomson offers a reprieve from Billy's relentless pursuit. 

“Y/N, you’re free to go.” He grants you an opportunity to escape the confines of Billy's gaze. As you hastily gather your belongings and make your exit, Billy's parting words linger in the air as he whispers close to your ear, “See you around little mouse.” 

Feeling like you could breathe again, you're greeted by a note from Robin stuck to your locker.

I got called into work :( Call me later - Robin

You groan inwardly, the frustration of detention compounded by the looming task of finding a new ride home. Billy and his entourage have succeeded in tainting what was already shaping up to be a less-than-ideal day. You trudge outside, seeking solace in the cool breeze that sweeps through the schoolyard.

The pleasant Indiana weather offers a small comfort, prompting you to forgo the immediate need for a ride and opt instead for a beautiful stroll to clear your mind. As you walk, you reach into your bag and retrieve your trusty cassette player, the familiar weight of it grounding you in the midst of chaos running through your mind. You mentally curse Billy for crowding every corner of your mind. 

With a deft motion, you slipbthe cassette into the player, the soft click of the mechanism soothing in its familiarity. The strains of your favorite mix fill the air, providing a welcome distraction from the events of the day.

Lost in the music, you barely notice the passing cars, each one a blur against the backdrop of your thoughts. That is, until a certain familiar shade of blue catches your eye, the sudden halt of the vehicle drawing your attention like a magnet.

You turn, locking eyes with Billy as he idles beside you, his presence an unwelcome intrusion on your solitary walk. His voice cuts through the quiet, laced with an air of amusement that irritates your nerves.

“Didn’t think we’d meet again this soon little mouse.” he remarks, his smirk evident even from the confines of his car.

You pause your tape, the rhythmic pulse of the music abruptly silenced as you face him, a mix of irritation and annoyance evident in your expression.

"What do you want, Billy?" you questione, the weariness of the day showing in your voice.

He chuckles, the sound grating on your nerves as he leanes casually against the driver's side door, his gaze fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

"She speaks!" he exclaims, his laughter ringing out in the quiet of the street. "Need a ride somewhere?"

You bristle at the suggestion, your resolve hardening as you met his gaze with a steely glare.

"Not from you," you retort, tone firm and uncompromising.

“Oh come on, I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.” You rolle your eyes at his innuendo, a flush rising in your cheeks as you resist the urge to give in to his persistent advances.

"I don’t need your help, Billy.”

He relents, his expression shifting to one of mock innocence as he reaches over to open the passenger door, a silent invitation hanging in the air between you.

"Come on, little mouse," he urges, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Just this one time."

You hesitate, torn between pride and practicality, before ultimately capitulating to the inevitable. You step into the car, the door closing with a soft click behind you as you buckle yourself in.

"No speeding," you warn, your voice firm as Billy complies with a laugh, the car pulling away from the curb at a reasonable pace.

As you settle into the seat, a strange sense of calm washes over you, the tension of the day slowly dissipating in the confines of the car. Despite your reservations, there was an undeniable comfort in Billy's presence, a realization that both puzzles and unnerves you in equal measure.

“So are you going to tell me where you live or am I bringing you back to my house?” 

“I live near Curly. By that trailer park.” 

“Thought you lived more in the pristine area of the Wheelers and Harringtons.” 

“Well you thought wrong.” 

As Billy maneuveres through the streets, you couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort mixed with a strange intrigue. You steal glances at him, his confident demeanor and reckless charm contrasting sharply with your own cautious nature.

"Why'd you get detention anyway?" Billy's question broke the silence, his eyes briefly leaving the road to meet yours.

"Too many tardies to homeroom," you reply, keeping your answers short.

"That's it? Seems a bit harsh," he remarks, his tone genuinely curious.

You shrug, not wanting to delve into the details of your run-in with authority.

As the familiar landmarks of Hawkins pass by in a blur, you couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead, the uncertainty of the future looming large on the horizon. You couldn’t help but think if this would be the last time Billy would go out of his way to acknowledge you. 

Navigating the familiar streets of Hawkins alongside Billy, you're acutely aware of the palpable tension that simmers between you, a potent cocktail of unease but also lingering with intrigue. Though you strive to maintain a facade of indifference, the magnetic pull of Billy's presence proves undeniable, stirring emotions you've long sought to suppress.

You’re thankful the remainder of the drive passes by in a relative quiet, punctuated only by the loud rock n roll blasting from the radio. When you finally reach your destination, you find yourself hesitating before getting out of the car.

"Thanks for the ride," you say, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your voice.

Billy grins, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Anytime, little mouse."

With that, you step out onto the sidewalk, watching as Billy drives off into the distance. As you make your way towards your house, you couldn't shake the feeling that this chance encounter with Billy Hargrove was just the beginning of something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Little did you know, the lines between your world and the world of Hawkins' resident bad boy were about to blur in ways you never imagined possible.

The following day, you find yourself once again navigating the familiar halls of Hawkins High, the events of the previous day still fresh in your mind. As you settle into your seat in English class, you can’t seem to shake the lingering sense of unease that accompanies your newfound proximity to Billy Hargrove.

It’s the most infuriating feeling and you hate yourself for allowing him to overtake your waking thoughts all throughout your night and morning. 

The classroom buzzes with the usual chatter of students, the mundane rhythm of academic life marching on despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. As the bell rang, signaling the start of class, Ms. Paterson enters the room with her characteristic air of authority, a stack of papers in hand.

"Good morning, class," she greets as she makes her way to the front of the room. "Today, we'll be embarking on a new project that will count towards a significant portion of your grade for this year."

A collective groan echoes through the room at the mention of yet another assignment, but Ms. Paterson pays it no mind.

"As part of this project, you'll be working in pairs to research and present on a book report of your choosing," she announces, her gaze sweeping over the room as she distributed the assignment sheets. "I'll be assigning partners randomly, so I expect everyone to work together cooperatively."

Everyone exchanges a wary glance around the classroom, the prospect of being paired with someone like Billy Hargrove looming ominously in the air. As Ms, Paterson began calling out pairs, you held your breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

"Y/N, you'll be paired with... Billy Hargrove.”

You felt a sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach as Billy's name reverberated through the classroom, the weight of his presence suddenly suffocating in its proximity. You glance in his direction, meeting his gaze with a mixture of apprehension and resignation.

Billy, for his part, seemingly unfazed by the news, his trademark smirk firmly in place as he turned to face you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of class, you found yourself hesitating by your desk, unsure of how to broach the subject of the upcoming project with your enigmatic partner.

Billy saunters over to your desk with his characteristic swagger, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Well, looks like we're partners, little mouse" he remarks, his tone laced with amusement as he leans against the edge of your desk.

You fight to suppress the urge to roll your eyes at his cavalier attitude, instead meeting his gaze with a steely determination of your own.

"Yeah, looks like it," you reply as you gather your belongings.

Billy's smirk widens at your response, his gaze lingers on you with a mixture of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"So, partner," he begins falling into step beside you as you both maneuver out of the classroom. "Where do you wanna meet up?"

You pause, considering your options carefully before responding. The thought of inviting Billy into your home sent a shiver of apprehension down your spine, but meeting up at his place didn't seem much better.

"How about we meet at the library?" you suggest, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. "It's neutral ground, and we'll have access to all the resources we need."

Billy raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, his smirk morphing into a grin of approval.

"Works for me," he nonchalantly responds. His tone surprises you at how agreeable it is and non combative about trying to get you into his bedroom. 

"4 pm. Don’t be late. I will not be waiting on you." You demand. 

“See you then, little mouse.” He winks, walking in the opposite direction. You groan internally at the use of that nickname he’s decided to give you. This is going to be a long year. 

As you and Robin sat on the bleachers in the gym during lunchtime, the rhythmic thud of basketballs hitting the court filled the air, punctuated by the occasional cheer from the squad as they practice their routines. Your eyes involuntarily flicker towards the court, where Billy’s shirtless form glistens with sweat under the fluorescent lights of the gym, his green gym shorts leaving little to the imagination as he moves with fluid grace among his teammates.

Robin's incredulous tone breaks through your reverie, snapping you back to reality.

"Wait, you got paired up with Billy for a project?" Robin exclaims, her disbelief palpable as she tore her gaze away from the court to focus on you.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, the absurdity of the situation not lost on either of you.

"Yeah, tell me about it," you respond, taking a bite of your sandwich as you try to mask the unease that churns in your stomach. "I have no idea how I'm going to survive working with him for the rest of the year."

Caught in a moment of distraction, your eyes lock with Billy's across the expanse of the gym. Time comes to a stand still leaving only the two of you in a silent battle of uncertainty. For a fleeting moment, you found yourself captivated by the intensity of his gaze, the depths of his eyes holding a tantalizing promise of something unknown. It was a gaze that spoke volumes, conveying a myriad of emotions that stirs something deep and unexpected within you.

As if sensing the weight of your scrutiny, Billy's lips quirk into a knowing smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he holds your gaze with unwavering confidence. Before you could fully process the significance of the moment, the spell breaks as Billy turns his attention back to the game, seamlessly blending into the rhythm of the practice session as if the moment didn’t just happen. 

You tear your gaze away, a flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks as you focus once more on your conversation with Robin. But despite your best efforts to dismiss the encounter, the feeling of Billy's piercing gaze lingers in the back of your mind, a silent reminder of the unexpected allure of the boy who has unwittingly become a sudden constant in your life now.  

Robin offers words of encouragement, her unwavering support a welcome balm to your frazzled nerves.

"Don't worry, Y/N," her voice a beacon of optimism in the darkness. "You're strong enough to handle anything that comes your way. Besides, who knows? Maybe working with Billy will be...interesting."

You couldn't suppress a snort of disbelief at her suggestion, the image of Billy's smug smirk and cocky attitude flashing through your mind.

"Yeah, interesting is one word for it," you remark dryly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's just hope I survive long enough to at least be there for graduation."

The town library stands as a quiet sanctuary amidst the bustling small town streets of Hawkins, its walls lined with rows upon rows of books that hold the promise of knowledge and adventure. As you step through the entrance, the familiar scent of old paper and ink washes over you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you sought out a secluded corner to await Billy's arrival.

Minutes tick by, each second stretching into an annoying eternity as you scan the quiet aisles for any sign of your partner. Just as you begin to resign yourself to the possibility of being stood up, a figure appears in the doorway, his presence commanding attention as he makes his way towards you with purposeful strides.

"Sorry I'm late," Billy greets, his tone apologetic as he approaches, a faint crease of worry marrying his brow. "Had to drop off my step-sister at home."

You nod understandingly, "No worries," offering him a reassuring smile as you gesture towards the table. "Let's get started."

Billy's expression softens at your words, a hint of gratitude shining in his eyes as you don’t try to pry. For a moment, the weight of his troubles seem to lift from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of camaraderie as you delve into the task at hand.

As you and Billy sift through the titles of various books, searching for the perfect one to base your project on, the atmosphere between you remains comfortably casual, the initial awkwardness of your partnership gradually melting away.

"So, any preferences on which book we should choose?" you ask, breaking the silence that has settled over the table.

"Not really," he replies with a casual shrug, his gaze flicking between the book covers with mild interest. "I'm good with whatever you want."

“Do you have a favorite book?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really finished one before.” Billy admits. 

“That’s quite sad to hear. What do you even do for fun?” 

“You think this is fun? Holding old pieces of paper about fake people and worlds. Seems like a waste of time to me.” 

You raise an eyebrow at Billy's dismissive remark, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Well, not everyone finds joy in reading, I suppose," you remark lightly, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite the underlying tension between you. "But there's something magical about getting lost in a good book, don't you think?"

Billy shrugs, his expression guarded as he leans back in his chair, his gaze fixes on the bookshelves before him.

"I guess," he replies with a noncommittal shrug, his tone tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I've just never really seen the appeal, you know?"

You nod in understanding, sensing the reluctance in his voice as he skirts around the topic of his own interests.

"Well, what about movies or music?" you press, eager to draw him out of his shell and uncover the layers of complexity that lie beneath his tough exterior. "Surely there must be something you enjoy doing in your free time."

Billy hesitates for a moment, his features softening slightly as he considers your question.

"I don't know, I guess I like playing basketball," he admits, a faint glimmer of enthusiasm shining in his eyes. "And...uh, sometimes I'll mess around with drawing when I'm bored."

You smile at his admission, a flicker of curiosity igniting within you as you get to witness a glimpse of the person behind the tough facade.

"That's cool," you reply, genuine warmth coloring your voice as you lean in closer, the distance between you suddenly feeling much smaller. "I didn't know you drew. Maybe you could show me some another time?"

"Yeah, maybe," Billy replies, his tone gruff and defensive, a faint edge of defiance creeping back into his voice. "But don't get your hopes up. It’s not that great"

You sense the walls he's built around himself, the layers of protection he's carefully constructed to shield himself from vulnerability. But beneath the tough exterior, you know there’s something raw and real, a flicker of longing that hints at the depth of his hidden desires.

"That's okay," you reassure him with a smile, your voice gentle as you reach out to bridge the gap between you. "We all have to start somewhere, right?"

"Yeah," he murmurs softly, a rare vulnerability creeping into his voice. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

“So, what about you, little mouse? Any other hobbies besides reading old stories?” A spark of enthusiasm ignites within you, quite surprised at his continuing of the conversation. 

"Yeah, actually," you begin, a smile spreading across your face as you lean forward, excitement bubbling within you. "I love photography. There's just something about capturing moments and memories with people and things I love that feels so special. I don’t know, I mostly do it for fun."

A mischievous glint sparks in Billy’s eyes as he leans in closer, his voice low and teasing. " I guess I'll have to watch out for those sneaky snapshots next time."

You can't help but roll your eyes at his playful banter, the Billy everyone around Hawkins knows showing back up. 

"Please," you retort with a playful scoff, feigning indifference as you brush off his teasing with a wave of your hand. "Like you're worth wasting film on."

Billy chuckles at your response, a grin spreading across his face as he leans back in his chair, his gaze lingering on you with amusement.

"Ouch, that hurts, little mouse," he replies with mock indignation, his tone light and playful despite the underlying tension between you. "But hey, don't worry. I'll make sure to give you my best angle next time."

"Keep dreaming, Hargrove," you retort, a flicker of annoyance flashing in your eyes as you notice Billy building those tough walls back up, leaving you to the same mysteries as the rest of the town. 

As the conversation fizzles out, you can't shake the feeling of disappointment lingering in the air. Despite the brief moment of connection, it seems that Billy's walls are too high to breach, leaving you with a sense of frustration at the missed opportunity for genuine connection. You can't help but wonder about the masks he wears so loudly, each one a cacophony of distractions meant to hide the vulnerability beneath. With a resigned sigh, you turn back to the task at hand, burying your disappointment as you focus on finding the perfect book not without stealing another glance at Billy as he picks up one of the books and rifles through the pages. 

If these past two days have shown you anything, it’s how little time it takes for a stranger to become a big part of your life. It's unsettling how quickly he's managed to weave himself into the fabric of your daily existence with a persistence that both frustrates and intrigues you. You've always valued your privacy, cherished the solitude of your inner sanctuary, but now, in the wake of Billy's arrival, you find yourself craving his attention in a way you never thought possible. 

Perhaps the greatest risk is not in letting someone new in, but in closing yourself off to the possibility of genuine connection. And even with the knowledge of Billy having a tangled labyrinth for a heart, perhaps he’s worth the risk after all.

Taglist: @msbillyhargrove @uselessbutinteresting @milestellergfs @periwinkle-quill @ghostcastaway

#billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove masterlist #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #billy hargrove x female reader #Spotify

[imshymorph]

Gather around everyone, here’s some soft!Gaz headcanons. Idk if it's a blorbo or me ranting and fangirling but i need to share the brain rot. another post today cause fuck it, i’ve been thinking about it for a while. also this was like a constant stream of thought and not proof read.

I truly don’t understand why this man gets ignored so much and I never will. He literally has everything you could ever want, saying he’s a ten doesn’t cut it. And yet I barely see people talking about him. (Except the gaz nation pookies, I see you).

This man absolutely bags the hottest significant other, doesn’t even know how. Don’t get me wrong, he 100% has rizz but he’s also just naturally attractive and inviting so i feel like by the time he starts to flirt on purpose it’s been two hours of pure smoothness. He’s also absolutely whipped but plays it off really smoothly.

- - - - -

Not only does he bag the hottest and meanest pookie aka you, but he also absolutely knows he did. And he’ll let right about everyone else know. I do think he’s more private about his life than say Soap, so it’s not like he’ll stop a random recruit and tell him about you (which i truly believe Johnny would do). But he has absolutely followed Price around base while he tells him about the two weeks leave he took to be with you.

Poor Price on his desk, dealing with the paperwork that comes as a necessity after Ghost and Soap blew something up during a drill that didn’t involve explosives at all. Not only is he having to fill out like fifteen different forms and reports, but he has Gaz sitting across from him, scrolling through his gallery and showing pictures of the place he took you out to on your Friday dinner date. Not only that but if Price just pretends to look but doesn’t actually pay attention Kyle will know and insist until the captain actually looks at the slideshow.

He doesn’t hammer your dates' knowledge onto Soap and Ghost as much, but he’ll definitely do subtle flexes. He chest the time on his phone instead of his watch so they’ll see the picture of you he has as a background. If someone brings up a weekend plan he’ll say how he can’t because he’s already going out with his darling. Subtly will tell anyone that will listen how you got him his new shirt, pants, cap, whatever it is tbh.

He also knows every single product that you prefer, doesn’t matter what kind it is. Makeup, skincare, cologne, fabric softener, snacks, beverages, food places, clothing brands. He doesn’t care, he knows all of them by heart. It’s like he has a six sense too, every time you’re close to running out of them he’ll randomly stop in the store on his way back to you from base and get them.

While i headcanon that Johnny gets into skin care after his darling introduces him to it (which you can read here, if you want). I believe Kyle absolutely has his own routine and that he is the one who first brings up the idea of having a spa night once a week. He’s the one to get the products, he even goes all out and does them themed, like by scent or colour or something.

Has a bunch of hoodies in rotation (or any other clothing piece you might steal from him) always making sure to wear at least one of them for a few days before “forgetting” it at yours or “forgetting” to take it to base once you’ve moved in together. He knows how much you love wearing them and how important it is that it smells like him. So he dutifully makes sure you always have a fresh Kyle™ piece of clothing available. Also it absolutely works for him too because he takes back the one you’ve had with you meanwhile. The mix of your cologne, body wash and fabric softener his favourite scent for sure.

And last but not least of my Gaz is the perfect boyfriend agenda (for today) is the fact that i know he just gives the best back massages. You don’t even have to ask for it, he’ll just come to the living room, lightly pat your shoulder so you move forward. He fits himself between the couch and your back and just gives you the massage of your life. He just laughs it off when you tell him he could be a masseuse if he ever retires from the military.

It takes less than 5 minutes to have you absolutely melting, and when he’s pleased with how comfortable and relaxed you look he just pulls you back against his chest. His arms wrap around your waist and his chin rests on your shoulder as you sit between his legs, the both of you watching a random show he saw good ratings of.

#cod x reader #x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz x you #gaz x reader #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #gaz nation #soft!gaz

[clu-ven]

The Closet

Summary: The Wolfpack is sick of the constant arguing between you and Wolffe, so they take matters into their own hands. Surely if you and the Commander were accidentally locked into one of the supply closets, you’d come to some sort of middle ground, right?

Well, there’s one thing they’re forgetting… you’re claustrophobic.

TW: small spaces, claustrophobia, panic attack 

Word Count: 4.7k

-> Reader uses she/her pronouns - masterlist can be found here <-

“It’s the perfect plan!” Boost exclaims, slapping the table in front of him for emphasis. 

The mesh hall is relatively crowded today, many hungry troopers finally getting some time to relax after another tough mission. Despite the loud chatter of the room, Sinker keeps his voice low. 

“I’m not sure,” he concludes with the shake of his head “it sounds risky and Wolffe is in a bad mood as it is, I don’t want this to make him worse”.

At the other side of the table, Boost shares a mild look of annoyance with Comet. “C’mon Sarge, this solves all of our problems!” Comet replies with a whine. It took him and Boost the past week to come up with this plan, putting more time into it than they’d like to admit.

With a deadpan voice, Sinker replies “Oh so this will end the war? And kill Dooku? And wash the gunships? Each and every problem we have will be instantly solved if we lock them in a supply closet?”.

Boost shrugs, trying to stay optimistic “You never know”. Sinker scoffs, rolling his eyes at his brother. 

The plan was simple but Comet and Boost couldn’t do it alone. They needed Sinker for this to work. Sighing, Boost leans across the table “Look, all you have to do is get her into the closet on the lower deck, that’s it”. 

Sinker is still unsure. “We’ll get the Commander, shove him in there, lock the door and ta-dah! Job done” Comet adds. 

This doesn’t sound like a good plan. Sinker knows that but it is enticing. He’s not sure if he can handle another mission full of you and Wolffe’s bickering, the two of you proclaiming you can’t stand the other.

Missions would be much easier if you both avoided each other but no, despite the constant arguing you two engage in, you will still insist on being near one another, whether that be sharing the same holomap (which is an absolute nightmare to witness) or standing next to one another in a briefing (which leads to you interrupting him and vice versa for the entire. damn. briefing.).

Sinker wants to say no, to put a stop to his brother’s shenanigans but would this do any harm? Maybe if you both got the opportunity to confront one another and get all of this arguing out of your system once and for all, then you might come to some sort of middle ground and let bygones be bygones.

“If I agree to this…” he begins and Boost impulsively throws his fist in the air “Yes! You're in!”.

“I said if…” Sinker says sternly “if I do this then the two of you have to wash the gunships”.

Boost nearly falls off his seat “H-how many are you expecting us to wash, Sarge?”. 

“I want four done by the end of the next rotation”.

Although Comet has never experienced a heart attack, he’s sure this is how it feels “What?! Four? C’mon Sinker, be reasonable”.

He folds his arms “Boys, if you want my help then that’s what it’ll cost ya”. Exchanging looks to one another, Comet huffs “Fine, we agree”.

***

The sound of your name makes you look up, eyes wide as you scan the corridor. Manoeuvring through some troopers, Sinker comes into view. 

Closing your datapad, you give the Sargeant your full attention, a relaxed smile on your face. 

“Sinker, what can I do for you?” You ask.

A flicker of sympathy crosses Sinker’s face as he answers “Well, I was just wondering if you could help me get some batca patches from the supply closet. There’s a whole box in there but, well, y’know me, I accidentally pushed them behind the shelving unit and now they’re stuck between that and the wall. Do you think you could get them for me?”.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, so quick to help that it makes the ball of guilt in Sinker’s stomach grow “lead the way”.

While usually you and Sinker always find things to talk about, he’s strangely quiet during your walk to the lower deck. It’s not something that alarms you but instead, it worries you. 

It’s no secret that things have been intense lately. The missions have gotten deadlier, injuries are harder to aid and the Separatist army seems to be growing more and more by the minute.

Even something as simple as accidentally knocking some bacta patches behind a cabinet seems like a dire problem nowadays. 

“It’s that one, just up ahead” Sinker slows his pace, pointing at one of the closets. 

“You’re not coming in?” You quirk an eyebrow, slowing your pace to match his. 

“Hm? Oh… uh, no I have to go help the General with something… sorry, I should’ve said that beforehand” he scratches the back of his neck, preferring to look down at the floor.

“That’s ok, you go on ahead, I’ll take care of this” with a firm nod, you open the door to the closet and disappear inside. Once Sinker’s certain the door has fully closed behind you, he lets out a long sigh. Kriff, that was harder than he thought it would be.

The inside of the closet is dark, the dim lights taking a few seconds to boot up. In your time serving the GAR, you’ve been on a multitude of ships, covered with the most cutting edge technology and yet in each and every ship, the closets are always neglected. 

They’re a second thought in comparison to the other elements of the ship. Cluttered floors, racks that are full of various stock that are probably out of date, a musty smell in the air, dull lights that are incapable of doing their sole purpose. It’s not a place you want to be for a long time.

Trying to look behind the metal shelving units, you mumble a curse. It’s dark behind the cabinets with barely enough space between them and the wall for you to fit your arm through.

Stooping down, you reach into the darkness, trying to find this damn box of bacta patches so you can quickly leave again. 

You’re so invested in finding the box, you pay no attention to the voices outside. “Why would the General want to meet me in there?” A voice says and without missing a beat, another voice replies “I’m not sure, Commander, I thought it was best not to ask”.

Behind you, the door opens but with the position you’re in, it’s hard to turn around and look. “I haven’t found it yet,” you call out “kriff, how far back did it fall?”.

The person doesn’t reply. 

“I know you’re really busy just standing there and all, Sinker,” you huff “but I’d really appreciate some help”.

“Sinker?” the voice scoffs, making you freeze. Clumsily removing your hand from behind the cabinet, you stand up straight and come face to face with Commander Wolffe.

You have to admit, you didn’t think you’d come this close to him, your chest almost bumping against his as you sway backwards to give him some space. “Oh! Commander-“ you start but Wolffe talks over you.

“I know us clones all look the same but the last time I checked, Sergeant Sinker has silver hair and both of his biological eyes”. You can hear the venom in his voice, his tone laced in sarcasm as he continues “Just a tip, so you don’t mix people up next time”.

You can’t help scoff, retorting “Mix people up? I wasn’t even looking at you! Am I just supposed to sense how many biological eyes you have?”.

“You should look whenever someone enters a room,” Wolffe begins to lecture you “that’s protocol 101; always be aware of your surroundings”.

“My apologies, Commander, I didn’t realise I came here to get a lesson in GAR protocol” you snap back. This is a usual occurrence whenever you and Wolffe are near each other, neither of you backing down and arguing until you’re separated by the others.

With the rolls of his eyes, Wolffe gestures towards the door “Just go, I have an important meeting in here”.

“With pleasure” you mumble, trying to move around the Commander without walking straight into him or colliding with the multiple cabinets.

Wolffe leans to the side, huffing loudly just to make sure you know this is a bother to him, giving you space to step over one of his legs and move to the door.

Your fingers brush against the control panel to the door, lighting it up. Nothing happens. You wait a few moments before doing it again but this time you press harder on the panel. Still nothing.

“Huh…” you crease your brow, repeating the action for a third time.

You hear some movement behind you and Wolffe turns his body to face you, peering over your shoulder at the control panel. With his critical gaze on you, you try again but to no avail. 

“Are you pressing it hard enough?” his voice is gruff and surprisingly close to your ear. 

You jerk your head away from him “Jeez, are you trying to make me go deaf? Of course I’m pressing it hard enough!”. With extra force, you press down on the control panel again. 

Nothing. 

Wolffe rolls his eyes, reaching his arm around you and trying it himself “Obviously you’re not if the door isn’t opening”. Stabbing his finger at the control panel, you hear a small “...oh” from behind you when the door still refuses to open. 

“Move over, let me have a proper look at it” Wolffe puts his hands on your shoulders, abruptly guiding you away from the control panel as you both switch places in a shuffling motion.

Now with Wolffe closest to the door, you lean against one of the cabinets, firmly planting your hands on the cool metal. 

You can feel your face becoming flushed, a surge of warmth spreading across your cheeks. The door will open, of course it will. This is just a small malfunction, that’s all. And then you can leave this stupid closet and never come back here again. 

Trying to distract yourself, you decide to subject yourself to small talk with Wolffe. 

“So, why are you here anyway?” you ask, your grip tightening on the shelves as if you’re bracing for impact. 

Wolffe keeps his focus on the control panel, fiddling with it as he answers “The General wants to meet me in here, says it’s something important”. 

Are you hallucinating or did he just say the General? Clarifying, you ask “General Plo wanted to talk to you… in a supply closet?”.

“That’s what I said”.

“And the General said this to you himself?” you pry, trying to ignore the loud thudding of your heart. 

“Not exactly” putting his hands on his hips, Wolffe pauses his investigation of the control panel “hmm, it was Comet and Boost. They said he wanted to meet me here”.

You force out a small laugh “And you believed them? Really?”.

Wolffe says something you don’t quite catch, something in Mando’a. Running his hand down his face, he gives the control panel a death stare for good measure. 

“The bad news is the door is locked from the outside, so I can’t open it from here but the good news is the maintenance droids run on a tight schedule so one of them should be…” glancing over his shoulder at you, his words fail him and for a moment, Wolffe’s taken aback.

The puzzled look on the Commander’s face makes you feel even worse, an overwhelming feeling of dread consuming your senses. “What? What is it?” you question, your tone a little too confrontational but thankfully Wolffe doesn’t bite back (for once).

“Why is your face so red?”.

Your stomach twists in directions you’re not sure it’s meant to, utterly embarrassed by such a question. Averting your gaze, your eyes lock onto the shelves that line the room, so cluttered it feels like they’re swarming you.

If you reach your arm out, you could touch almost any shelf. Could you do that beforehand? Is the room getting smaller?

With the surprisingly gentle call of your name, Wolffe brings your attention back to him, his hands out in front of him as if he’s trying to tame a wild animal. “Just tell me what’s wrong,” he coaxes, moving closer to you “are you hurt? Is that why you're in here?”.

With his hand a mere inch from touching you, you flinch, pressing yourself deeper into the cabinet as you screw your eyes shut. It’s not that you don’t mind being touched but the thoughts of feeling such a dominant presence as well as the cramped aura of the room makes your stomach churn. 

“No, no, I don’t like this room,” you blurt out, voice beginning to shake as you continue “everything feels too tight, it’s all too close, I-I don’t like it”.

Wolffe can handle fighting battle droids, kriff, he can even hold his own against a sith but this? He knows he’s out of his depth but Wolffe also knows this isn’t the time to freeze, not when it’s you. Right now, you need him and he’ll be damned if he doesn't help.

He notices your tight grip on the shelves, your knuckles turning white as if you’re holding on for dear life. “Do you want to sit down?” Wolffe keeps his voice uncharacteristically soft, stooping to the ground in the hopes you’ll follow. 

Hesitantly opening your eyes, you scan the floor below. It’s covered in loose, discarded items that once sat on the shelves but have since been looked over and forgotten.

Is there any part of this closet that’s clean? That doesn’t feel crowded? Your head pangs, pain lingering across your forehead. 

You let out a whine. Wolffe keeps one of his hands stretched out to you, opening his palm wide “Don’t be stupid about this, let me help you”. 

You don’t think he can help, in fact you don’t think anyone can help you right now. But then your gaze meets his. Wolffe looks up at you with calm, hopeful eyes, his rough exterior and brazen nature slowly melting away. 

You try to take a deep breath but the tightness in your throat makes it an impossible task. You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t even want to look at Wolffe right now, the embarrassment of your involuntary actions making you feel worse. But what other choice do you have? It’s not like you can walk away, you can barely take a step forward without face planting a cabinet.

Nervously nodding your head, you take his hand. Wolffe tentatively encloses his hand around yours, watching your reaction closely. At any sign of further discomfort or even the slight jerk of your hand, he would let go, not wanting to accidentally make matters worse. 

“Good… finally, you actually followed an order” he jibes, the subtle smirk on his face letting you know he’s not purposely dissing you. Although this is a comment you’d usually roll your eyes at, you weirdly find comfort in his typical teasing. 

With his hand to steady you, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. “There you go,” Wolffe comments “were you hurt? During the last battle?”. He knows you said it’s the room causing this but he doesn’t see how that’s possible. Not unless this was somehow caused by an injury you sustained in battle, one that’s only rearing its head now.

You shake your head, though that only makes you feel dizzy. “No, no… i-it’s too tight, this room, I need to get out,” you reply through laboured breaths.

Keeping one hand enclosed around yours, Wolffe uses his other hand to reach up and try the control panel again. He sighs when nothing happens. 

Letting out a small whimper, you slip your hand out of Wolffe’s, using both of your hands to pull your knees up against your chest as you hang your head low. 

You’ll never hear the end of this. Out of all the clones aboard, why did it have to be Wolffe in here? The one person you know will bring this up at a later date just to get the upper hand in an argument. 

What makes it worse is that you know he’ll only view you as being weak after this. Wolffe is a man that’s been through so much in his life, surviving a countless number of battles, disasters and attempts on his life. The heavy feeling of shame makes you hold onto your knees tighter. Wolffe is such a strong soldier and here you are, crumbling because of a locked door.

The soft sound of your name drags you away from your internal self-criticism, followed by a poking sensation on your leg.

Barely looking up, you see Wolffe prodding your knee, repeating your name again as he adds “I can’t help unless you give me something to work with, tell me what I can do”.

Wolffe has always had mixed feelings about you but that doesn’t mean he wants to see you upset. Sure, you’re stubborn… and feisty… and a headache to work with but in fairness, you’ve always been there for the Wolfpack. 

After a tough fight, you’ve helped them bandage up. When you don’t have full faith in a plan (usually one of Wolffe’s) you’ll create a backup plan for when things inevitably go off track. Even on those quiet rotations, when memories filled with loss and regret begin to flood his brother’s heads, you’re there, listening to them. You’re a comforting presence in many of their lives, even Wolffe’s.

But don’t even ask him to say that out loud. That’s never going to happen.

He pokes you again “C’mon, it’s not like I’m going anywhere… even if I wanted to”. You huff out a laugh, though that proves harder than you initially thought, your dry mouth making the laugh sound more like a cough.

If you don’t get out of here soon, you think you might get sick, the anxious feelings in your stomach continuing to gnaw away at you. 

“I… I need to get out, I need to leave” with newfound determination, you begin to stand. 

The second you plant your feet on the ground, you know it’s a bad idea, feeling your muscles tremble. It’s as if you can feel each and every one of your nerves twitching, your body involuntarily trembling with panic.

Wolffe is quick to follow suit, trying to stand without knocking into one of the shelves. “Woah, take your time” he says a bit more sharply than he anticipated. 

“No, let me leave, I need to-“ before you can even finish your sentence, your legs go from underneath you. You drop, about to crash back onto the ground when Wolffe catches you, scooping you up in his arms.

“What did I tell you?” He mutters with a huff, fully enclosing his arms around you as he lowers you back down to the ground. “Stay low,” he orders “the last thing either of us need is you fainting and smacking your head against the floor”.

You thought the feeling of someone else near you would make this worse, adding a new layer of suffocation to your mixture of emotions. But it’s actually kinda nice, the warmth radiating from Wolffe acting like a warm, welcoming blanket of comfort. 

Being in the professional setting of the GAR for so long, you’ve forgotten how soothing physical touch can be at times. Although your reaction is subtle, Wolffe notices how you faintly lean into him, your head a mere few inches from resting on his chest. He watches you for a moment, studying your face. 

Thankfully, you have your eyes closed again so he’s not worried you’ll catch him staring at you. Even though you’re in the middle of a panic attack, you look more relaxed than usual. Or at least more relaxed than how you usually are around Wolffe. 

Whenever he sees you, it’s only a matter of time before you both get worked up, the two of you bickering or making not so subtle jabs at one another. But looking at you now, there’s not a single trace of that annoyance he normally associates with you.

“Just relax, take some deep breaths” he encourages you, using his hand that’s resting on your upper back to give you a gentle nudge towards him. Wolffe isn’t sure how else to let you know it’s ok to relax against him, seeing the option of saying it directly being too awkward. 

He gives you a small smile and an approving nod as you do exactly that, letting your body fall against him as you rest your head on his chest.

Your hand comes up to his chest too, clutching onto the firm fabric of his Commander’s uniform, something you’re grateful he’s wearing considering his plastoid armour would be way too uncomfortable to relax against.

With your eyes still closed, you attempt to take some deep breaths, your breathing hitching every now and again. You try to sync your breathing up with Wolffe’s, finding the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest to be a lulling piece of comfort.

The tight sensation that grips your heart doesn’t fade instantaneously but you have to admit, it’s nice having someone close. It gives your mind something else to focus on instead of the cramped room, Wolffe’s presence distracting you from your worries.

The only time Wolffe ever expected you to be this close to him is if you had enough of his shit and decided to swing for him. Never in a million years would he imagine you being so peaceful and close to him.

With your voice coming out as a small whisper, you mumble “Thank you”. 

His heart beats faster at your small piece of gratitude, something Wolffe hopes you can’t hear through his uniform. He’s not used to things like this. Give him a blaster and Wolffe can handle himself just fine but holding someone and trying to comfort them? That’s not his strong suit. 

Taking a deep breath, you speak again, this time projecting your voice a bit more. “Did you really think you were meeting Master Plo here?” you sniffle, your head still aching but thankfully, the pain’s beginning to dull. 

Wolffe has to stop himself from doing another eye roll, not wanting to start a fight or get you worked up again. “That’s what I was told” he grunts.

To his surprise, you let out a small, genuine laugh. It makes his hands twitch, wanting to pull you even closer and relish in your laugh but he resists the urge. 

“And who told you that again? Oh yeah, Comet and Boost, two troopers known for their unwavering seriousness and hatred for pranks” you laugh, something Wolffe is thankful to hear again. 

“Alright you got me there,” he admits, knowing it wasn’t the smartest move to believe his troublesome brothers “but why are you in here? Did they say the same thing to you?”.

“Actually it was Sinker,” you reveal, getting rather comfy leaning against the Commander “he asked if I could get some bacta patches he accidentally dropped behind the cabinets”.

You can feel Wolffe deflate, puffing out a deep breath “Please tell me you didn’t actually believe that”.

“Why?” You crane your head to look up at him, watching as he tries to suppress his annoyed expression. 

Although you’d never say this outloud, he looks nice like this. Looking up at him in this position gives you a great view of his jawline, both of his eyes peering down at you and a genuine smile playing at his soft lips.

Damn, maybe you did actually hit your head. Trying to refocus on what he’s saying, you push any admiration you have for the Commander deep, deep down.

“Because the batca patches are stored on the upper deck,” removing one of his hands from you, he runs it down his face “kriff, you’ve been on this ship for months and you don’t even know where the batca patches are stored”.

While you would normally jeer back a response or scoff at Wolffe’s remark, immediately becoming defensive, you find it hard to do that after everything that’s happened. 

You finally feel relaxed again, a calmness settling in your stomach and putting your heart at ease. You’re in no mood to start a fight and frankly, you don’t think you have the energy for it either.

Instead you laugh again. After all, Wolffe has a point. You should’ve known where the bacta patches are kept and if you did then you wouldn’t be in this predicament. It was a silly mistake and at this moment, you can’t find the energy within you to do anything but laugh. 

Wolffe chuckles too, appreciating your reaction. Shrugging, he admits “Can’t blame you too much, it was only last week I realised the caff machine in the mesh hall has more than one setting”.

“Seriously?” you laugh again “But the default setting on that thing tastes like droid oil”.

“I know that all too well” Wolffe shakes his head, almost tasting the sour caff on his tastebuds from the mere mention of it.

You open your mouth to speak again but before you can, the door slides open, the bright lights from the corridor making you squint. A droid whirls into the room, taking no notice of you and going about it’s own business. 

And just like that, your time with Wolffe is over. 

Giving him a small smile, you climb off of him, getting to your feet. Watching Wolffe stand too, a sudden awkwardness hangs over you. Is that it? What do you say now? Thanks for the help but I’ll still call you out the next time you’re a jerk?

Noticing Wolffe’s expression, it’s clear you’re not the only one feeling this way. “Well, I guess that’s that” he nods, gesturing for you to leave the closet. You do so gratefully, shuffling past the droid and stepping into the wide and spacious hallway. 

When Wolffe steps out, you’re sure you see a flicker of reluctance in his eyes. But you quickly brush past it, blaming it on your vision still adjusting to the bright lights. 

“Are you going to be okay from here?” Wolffe asks, though it takes you a few moments to process his words, Wolffe’s head hanging low and voice just above a whisper. You’re not sure why he’s talking so low, it’s not like there’s many troopers on the lower deck to overhear. 

“Yeah,” you try to sound confident in your answer “I’ll take it easy for the rest of the rotation, just in case”. In an effort to persuade him, you give Wolffe a quick smile. 

“Right, well you know how to contact me if you need me…” he replies before realising how soft that sounds, immediately breaking eye contact with you and clearing his throat “or just go to the medbay, yes, that’s the better option, do that instead of contacting me. I’m very busy today”

“Busy getting stuck in closets?” you playfully tease, trying to brush past this awkward energy. 

He chuckles “Better me than you”. Kriff, that sounds too soft too. Wolffe’s not a tender, warm hearted kinda guy, so he’s not sure why he’s trying to be that around you, even if it’s subconsciously. 

Quickly shoving his feelings to one side, Wolffe chalks it up to your rare vulnerable moment bringing out his protective nature. That’s it. The next time he’ll see you, things will be normal, none of this small talk or softened expressions to one another.

With the curt nod of his head, the Commander walks away. It’s true, he does have a lot to do today but if you were to contact again, he’d be there in a heartbeat… even though he’s not exactly sure why he’d feel so much urgency to be there for you again. 

You blink a few times, surprised by his abrupt exit. But then you remember this is Wolffe so his sudden departure should’ve been expected. After all, he’s “so busy”. Rolling your eyes, you walk in the opposite direction, deciding to track down Sinker and give him a piece of your mind.

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