#i'm... really shaken up by this honestly
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Born lucky, under a bad star.
Summary: Joel has always been lucky, in the worst of ways.
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader
Word count: ~13k (sorry)
Warnings: game!Joel, major spoilers for tlou part 2, angst with a happy ending, major injuries and recovery, anxiety, depression, relationship healing, mentions of death, mentions of violence, suicidal ideation
Disclaimers and A/N: Though this fic was based around some events in tlou part 2, almost all of the canon after the divergence from the canon timeline is thrown out. This fic is also based entirely around game events, characterization, and canon. This is honestly one of the most difficult things I've ever written. It took months and many many drafts, but I'm very proud of her. I hope you love her too, she was a labor of love.
As always, thank you for reading! I would love to know your thoughts! Please please please, be sure to leave feedback!
Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.
- Kait Rokowski.
The lights of the clinic are so bright they’re blinding.
Your hands are still shaking, covered in Joel’s blood. It’s been hours since you returned to the safety of Jackson’s walls but there’s still a frantic, frenetic energy in the air. Everyone is shaken. It feels a little like a thousand year old tree has been felled, like a giant has been swung at and leveled, like something monstrous and infallible has been brought to its knees.
You’ve seen it happen before. Rebar right through his belly. It should have killed him. It would have killed anyone else. You’ve pulled more bullets out of Joel than you would care to count, and swaddled him in probably several football fields worth of bandages over the years.
Still, nothing like this.
Because Joel has always been lucky, even when he hadn’t wanted to be.
Lucky, in all the worst ways.
That fucking rebar, you think bitterly. It should have hit at least one organ, should have severed his fucking spine. But it didn’t. He walked it off, really, mostly, at the end of it all.
This though — to see him tortured, beaten, bleeding to death slowly—
Your edge of your vision tips black, like your mind is already refusing to go back to that room, like you’ll pass out if you think of it for too long.
A part of you wonders if maybe it’s your fault. Maybe you forgot to stick lavender in his pocket before he left that morning, like you always do.
Someone pushes the door open, snow swirls in against the tile. Voices, rising and falling. The cold that rolls through the tiny waiting room is frigid.
It’s still so red, his blood, even dried and crusted around your fingers and up your wrists.
Tommy is still bleeding and even Maria hasn’t been able to convince him to sit down and let someone look at him. No, all attention needs to be focused on his brother. Anyone with any medical know how, has to be with Joel.
You agree.
Tommy, you, anyone else—can fucking wait.
Ellie is sitting next to you, looking just as numb and shocked as you feel, her fingers twined with Dina’s.
The chatter reaches a crescendo. Something about the worsening storm, something about tracking folks with that big of a headstart through a storm like this one, something about the rapidly deepening darkness, night coming on, something about well who could do something like that anyway? Who the fuck would we even send?
The quiet that follows is painful.
Joel.
Joel is the one you send. Joel is the one that could get a job like this one done, the one that could track people through a blizzard with a dogged determinism, with pragmatism and infallibility.
“What did they want?” Someone asks the room at large. You aren’t sure who asks, you can’t make the shapes in the room resolve into people you know. “Why us? Why Joel? They wanted something right? Who were they?”
You and Tommy look at each other, Ellie makes a half muffled, pained sound beside you. Joel crossed a lot of people, maybe there wasn’t any sense in guessing.
No one answers. You look at your hands again and wonder if the crimson will ever fade.
Someone says your name and you look up. A coat is tugged over your shoulders. You didn’t realize you were shivering and you don’t know what happened to your own coat. One of the patrolmen is looking at you, his name slips your memory but Jesse is standing behind him, Maria on the other side.
You feel the ghost of Ellie’s hand against your arm. Odd, you think distantly, because she hates you. She has for a long time.
“What happened?”
You look around, but Tommy isn’t where he’d been standing just a moment ago. Did they ask him, too?
There’s a dark hole in your memory.
“I don’t know.”
And it’s the truth.
There’s no one more dedicated, more involved, in keeping Jackson safe, than Joel.
Aside from Tommy, maybe.
Joel is an effective killer, like an executioner with a mission. It’s the thing that scared Tommy the most about his brother, and it’s also the thing that had kept him alive long enough to get his second chance in Jackson. It’s the thing you have always loved most about Joel, the violence born of necessity.
And, you suppose, that’s what he’d been. Dispatcher, destroyer.
Protector.
At the heart of it all, the meat of it is, that it had always been that with Joel. It had always been in the name of protect, provide, survive. He never shied away from telling you of his days as a hunter, or, something close to a hunter. And even then, it was keep Tommy alive, it was survive until Boston, it was we needed fucking food.
Survive and provide and protect.
Joel.
Jackson had been wary of him, at first. The stories of his dealings with infected and raiders alike at odds with the way he moved in the commune, with kindness and a certain gentleness, a competency and dependability, with something so soft in his gaze when it came to that little girl he arrived with.
That reticence and worry had dissolved as quickly as it had come.
They describe him as quiet and funny, because he’s prone to good natured teasing. They describe him as fierce and short to anger, because no one can say a word about him or his. They describe him as wonderfully dependable, ask Joel for something on a supply run and you would have it in short order; sigh about the state of something in your home and it would be taken care of, fixed, the very next day.
Jackson loves Joel.
Especially that softened up, gentle creature that had emerged in the wake of everything that had happened between Boston and Jackson. Joel had always had a soft interior, trotted out in brief glimpses over the years, but the shell he wore had been so thick and sharp it was near impenetrable, nearly unknowable.
Ellie is around plenty in those first couple of weeks after. She even takes to sleeping on the living room couch. She doesn’t say much to you or Joel, hardly anything at all, but she’s there and you figure that’s what matters. It seems like she isn’t sure what to say, and desperate for the connection that nearly shattered.
The first few days when Joel comes home from the clinic, someone knocks on the front door every couple of hours and you open it and have the same conversation over and over and over again. It’s always people worriedly asking after Joel’s wellbeing, dropping off food, expressing their anger that something like this could happen to one of their own, that it could happen to someone so widely and wildly beloved.
When the knocks finally stop coming, and you can convince Tommy to go home to Maria, before Maria has to walk over and collect her husband again, you take the stairs slowly up.
You’re exhausted. You hardly sleep and when you do, you have nightmares of Joel. Formless, mind numbing dreams that you can never remember when you wake up gasping. You aren’t sure if Joel dreams of it, too. He’s always mumbled in his sleep, eyes flickering behind closed lids, so it’s hard to tell.
And he hasn’t really been coherent enough, awake enough, to ask, anyway.
“Hey,” Ellie says when you round the doorway into the bedroom, lowering the comic book in her hands. She’s beside Joel, sitting on your side of the bed, back against the headboard. “Sleeping again.”
“Was he awake?”
“A little. Drank some water.”
Despite the tension of the last few years, you know she’s thinking of another time that Joel had slept a lot, injured and only half alive.
Now isn’t like then, but in some ways, it’s worse.
You nod and take a seat at the edge of the bed by her feet. “That’s good,” you reassure her. “It’s a good thing that he’s sleeping. He needs it.”
Ellie just holds up the comic in her lap and then jerks her chin at the box on the bedside table, Joel’s glasses and book about space pushed aside. “I, uh, found them in the study.”
You shrug. “He always picked up any he found on supply runs.” You watch her from the corner of your eye and then shift your gaze to Joel. The slow rise and fall of his chest is reassuring in its steadiness, though you hate how still he is.
The skin by his temple is puckered and red, the stitches a neat little row up to his hairline. It still looks raw as a live nerve, the swelling extending to his eye, purple and shadowed in a dark bruise that trails down his cheek and jaw.
“He never said—” She stops and shakes her head. “So stupid.”
“Well,” you scoot closer and pat her extended leg. “You didn’t exactly want to talk then. We tried giving them to you, once. Left them outside your door. They got a little rained on.”
“Yeah,” she says, mouth twisting to the side. “Some of them are. . .can’t fucking peel the pages apart.” In that moment, she sounds like that little kid you left Boston with, being told not to touch something and doing it anyway.
That might have been when you fell in love with Ellie, watching her snap at Bill, and watching Joel react like any father would. It had come back to him so quickly, so naturally.
There’s a long pause in which Ellie flips rapidly through the comic book and doesn’t say anything, her fingers nervous. She looks how you feel — exhausted. “Why don’t you go get some sleep in your own bed?” You ask, reaching out to twitch a fallen lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “You’re just across the yard. If anything happens, you’ll know.”
She looks up at you, eyes flicking over your face. “I was fucking mad at you too, you know,” she whispers suddenly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
You drop your hand and shake your head before looking back at Joel. He sleeps deeply now, deeper than you thought possible for someone like him, even drugged and injured.
There’s a knot tangled in your chest, that only tightens further with her question. “It wasn’t my place. He didn’t. . .he didn’t say anything to me about it for a long time, either. Wouldn’t explain what happened while we were separated. He told me the same lie. And you were going to be mad at me, too, no matter what. It had to be between the two of you.”
“And you think he was right,” she accuses hotly.
“And,” you level your eyes to hers, “I think he was right.” You dip your head. “I wouldn’t change anything, Ellie. I wouldn’t. You know Joel wouldn’t either. You matter more than that.”
Her bottom lip trembles for just a second. “Even knowing this happens?!” She gestures around the room, maybe just the situation at large.
Some of the tension knotting up your shoulders bleeds away. “He’s still here. It’s not too late.” She glances away and sucks in a harsh breath. You wait until she meets your eyes again. “And Ellie, it is not your fault. It’s not. None of it.”
“It almost was.” Her voice is strained. “Too late.”
You shrug. “He knows you care. Trust me, he does.”
She scrubs roughly at her eyes with the sleeves of her hoodie. “Yeah, uh, well, I’m still gonna sleep on the couch.”
“Why don’t you just stay right here, then? With Joel?” You ask and stand. “I’ll take the couch tonight.”
It is the ultimate admission of how scared she is, that she does not argue, doesn’t even try to.
For the first few weeks after the attack, Joel is in and out of consciousness. He sleeps much more than he’s awake.
And, it’s hard to tell, at first, why he’s sleeping so much. The pain medicine? That carefully doled out, nearly impossible to come by miracle drug — was it just knocking him out? Was he just sleeping because that’s what his body needed? Or, was it something deeper? Brain damage?
“He’s fucking. . .old!” Ellie says to you one morning around a mouthful of toast. It’s kind of odd, how easily she’s taken to old routines. And how weird the old routine is, because the third piece of your puzzle is missing, sleeping. “Old people take longer to heal, right?”
Right.
But he’s also Joel. And he isn’t that old.
It feels wrong, that he’s so still and silent.
“It’s not—” Her fist opens and closes. She sets down the toast in her other hand on the plate and turns, pacing the length of Joel’s kitchen, fidgeting with her fingers as she goes, white morning light slatting over her. You eye the toast. It’s hard to get her to eat, these days but you figure most of one piece is better than nothing. “His leg. It’s not infected or something, right? We’d know if it was.”
“It’s not infected,” you agree. When your own hands start to shake, you set down your mug, afraid to drop it or spill hot tea all over the floor, and make Ellie even more anxious in the process.
You don’t like to talk about it. You don’t like to think about it. The memories are like a hot brand.
The staircase creaks with the heavy thud of footsteps, before Tommy appears in the kitchen archway. You’ve always thought Tommy and Joel resembled each other, but now you see similarities in the kinds of expressions they make, too, the quirks in their movements that only siblings could share, and Tommy is sometimes a little hard to look at.
“Heading out?”
“Yeah, he’s, uh, sleepin’ again.” He leans against the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest.
Ellie doesn’t say anything, just slips past Tommy and heads up the steps. Tommy looks after her and then back at you. “She won’t say it but she doesn’t like leaving him alone,” you explain.
Tommy nods and then pushes away from the door to settle at the kitchen table. “Well, I don’t like the idea of it either. Good she’s with him.” He tips the chair onto its back legs and tilts his head. “How ya holdin’ up?”
“Probably about as good as you are.”
He huffs a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Maria told me you want off partols.”
You swallow and look away from him as you take the seat across from him at the table. “I - I know we’re down people already but I can’t. . .Tommy I can’t even look at the goddamn gate without feeling like—” You shake your head. “I just don’t think I can do it. I’d get somebody killed.”
“All right,” he says, not unkindly. “We’ll figure it out. It’s okay.”
A burn starts at the back of your eyes so you stand again and swipe your fingers against your cheeks. “You want coffee before you head out?”
“Nah, save that for Joel.” Then, “How you think this is gonna go? When he’s awake more?”
“I don’t know. You’d know better than me.”
Tommy laughs. The chair scrapes against the linoleum as he stands. He looks tired, and worried. It’s an odd look on him. It isn’t like Tommy at all. You and Tommy have always bonded over teasing Joel. There’s none of that now.
“Like hell. You’ve spent the last fifteen years with him, not me.”
“He’s your brother.”
“And you’re the love of his damn life.” He pauses and leans on the counter next to you.
That makes your mouth twitch, the pleasantly warm feeling in your chest consumed in the next second by a lancing pain that can only be an approximation of grief for someone and something that still breathed.
“I just can’t help worryin’,” he continues. “This might be enough for us, but not for him. If Joel can’t ever do anything again—”
“He just needs time, Tommy,” you cut him off quickly. Not able to stomach the thought. “We’ll figure it out. He’ll figure it out,” you say with more conviction than you feel. “We can probably figure something like a prosthetic out. People have been making them for thousands of years. We can do it. It’ll be fine. But it’s going to be different.”
Tommy’s right. You’ve spent the last fifteen years with Joel. You aren’t sure who you are without him anymore. You aren’t sure you know how to get along without him anymore. And you never want to have to find out. “He’s alive,” you finish with a nod. “Everything else, we can figure out.”
He nods. “You think we shoulda went after ‘em?”
“Maybe. But this is more important.”
Before he goes, Tommy wraps you in a hug. “So long as you and that girl stick around, it’ll be all right.”
“Ellie’s been playing the guitar up there,” you answer.
He nods and pulls back, one big hand clapping down on your shoulder. “See? Things might be all right yet. Always told Joel she’d come around eventually.” He releases you and heads toward the door then. “And get some sleep. Y’look terrible,” he calls over his shoulder. “Orders from Maria.”
For the first time in weeks, Joel wakes with some semblance of clarity. The bedroom is warm and dark, the tiniest pool of light washing over the form next to him from a little light plugged into the wall.
It’s the nightlight he found for Ellie when they first got to Jackson and her nightmares gave her more grief than she cared to admit to.
His whole body aches. He feels sick.
The sharpness of the pain is disorienting. He’s only been awake in brief, muddled flashes, the dulled fingers of drugged pain lancing through him and consuming most of his thoughts. He’d only been awake long enough to eat or drink or be helped to the bathroom like some kind of damn—
He remembers Tommy at his bedside. He hears the ghost notes of music in the air, your voice in his ear, the gentle slide of warm fingers over his skin. He remembers Ellie reading aloud, curled on her side next to him, like she used to do when she was younger, like when they’d stop for the night on the road.
That can’t be right, though. She hasn’t done that in years. She wouldn’t do something like that. Not anymore.
You’re next to him now, face tilted against the edge of his pillow. It’s hard to make you out in the dark, the shape and slope of your features hidden in the dim light.
When he says your name, you twitch, the slightest wrinkle to your nose, the tiniest spasm of your fingers against the sheets. “Darlin’,” he tries again. His voice grinds, catches and snags around his teeth. It feels like he hasn’t spoken in years.
He reaches for you and it’s agony, because his shoulder must be broken. His ribs contract painfully right, like the shrapnel of the bone is digging up into his lungs, piercing his heart. But your skin is soft and warm, pliant, beneath his fingers. It smells like you’ve been burning sage again. He wants to burrow his fingers beneath your skin, you’re so warm.
The cut of your cheekbones are sharper, the angle of your jaw reminds him of winter in the QZ, winter traveling with you and Ellie. Discolored circles line the space beneath your eyes like little hollows. You look exhausted, wan.
You blink, slowly at first, then more rapidly. “Joel?” Your voice is a whisper, like the dark is stealing it away.
Your fingers slide through the backs of his against your cheek when you shift closer, so careful about it, until you’re pressed to his side. “Joel,” you repeat, eyes sliding shut, forehead against the edge of his sore jaw.
He breathes you in, the warm scent of your skin, the smells of hearth and home, lavender and sage and woodsmoke. He closes his eyes for just a second when you shift up and tilt your forehead against his, breath whispering against his chin. “Joel.”
“You all right?” His voice still sounds rocky but clearing it doesn’t seem to help any.
Slowly, you sit up, hand still in his when you pull it away from your face. “You’re asking me that? You’re kidding, Joel,” your voice creaks. You’ve never really been a crier, but there’s a thickness in your mouth, softening out the vowels and snapping at the consonants. “Are you - We didn’t want you to be in pain. But you’ve been sleeping for so long, we gave you a lower dose so that—”
“I feel okay,” he interrupts your fretting, sweeping his thumb against the back of your hand. “Considerin’.”
You swallow and nod. “Hungry?” You glance at the window, where a gray, pale morning light is starting to leech into the room, the color of dirty snow.
“Yep.” He wishes you’d keep your eyes on him. “If you’ve got somethin’ ready.”
“We have anything you want,” you assure him. “Anything.”
Joel nods and attempts to push himself up next to you, chest and shoulder aching something awful. He bites back a groan but it still pushes past his teeth.
“Careful,” you say sharply. Before he can protest, you’re up and around the bed, one hand behind his back. “Your shoulder is broken in a million places.”
“A million?” He grunts.
“Three.”
“That ain’t a million.”
You don’t laugh and your hand doesn’t move from his back. “And broken ribs. Now lean back.” He does as you ask, real careful about it so you don’t worry.
An odd feeling creeps up inside his chest, dulled by the lighter dose of pain medicine coursing through his veins. It ain’t just a sick feeling, but something else. A helplessness, maybe. It feels wrong, in more ways than one.
Joel becomes acutely aware of what he already knows, every single injury, the graveness of them. He knows about the broken shoulder and ribs that had to be reset, torn skin that had to be stitched together, that he has internal bruising but by some miracle no internal bleeding. His face throbs suddenly, his temple tight with pain. He feels his heartbeat behind his eye and in the swelling in his cheek.
And, the worst of it, leg amputated to just above the knee. Sick crawls up the back of his throat. He doesn’t dare look.
The feeling in his chest swells until it chokes him.
Helpless, useless — something hard and fanged digs into his mind. It feels like grief, but what is he supposed to be mourning, exactly?
Everything, maybe.
His whole damn life.
“I’m fine,” he grunts suddenly. Sharply. “Quit fussin’.”
He feels like fucking crying.
“Just - shut up, Joel,” you snap back. “You almost fucking died.”
A fist curls around his throat, warm and tight. He almost can’t breathe through it. “Yeah,” he croaks, voice breaking the word in two.
“Yeah,” you snarl. “So shut up and let me fuss.”
You turn and leave before he can say anything else, footsteps rapidly descending the stairs. Voices trundle up, creased and folded, rising but muffled. You’ve always been mean when you got scared, ever since Joel can remember. You were mean as hell when he first met you, a hissing kind of frustrated, new to the QZ and new to trying your hand at smuggling.
You’ve softened up over the years. He hasn’t seen you like this in a long time, maybe not since you got separated in Salt Lake City.
More footsteps, this time heavy, stomping, coming upwards.
Ellie appears in the doorway a second later. Her hair is messy; her eyes are wild. She’s in sweatpants and a shirt that’s too big for her. She looks tired but unharmed. The knot tangled up around his lungs eases just a little. “Hey, kiddo.” He tries not to sound surprised.
Her eyes flick over him and then away. She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t leave either. Instead she picks up a book from the corner of the dresser and settles in the chair across the room.
A firm but unyielding presence.
He closes his eyes, tips his head back against the wall, and tries to push down the feeling of failure rising in his throat like a tide.
Joel’s fingers are clumsy.
He can’t walk, can’t work, can’t do much of anything without irritating every ligament and tendon and bone in his body.
But even worse than that, he can’t remember how to play the guitar.
And nothing makes him feel so helpless as that.
Even after not playing for twenty odd years, the notes and the placement of his fingers on the strings and frets had come back easily to him, almost like he’d never stopped playing at all.
Now, it doesn’t.
In part his shoulder is to blame. Even nearly healed, it’s stiff. But the other part of it is that he can’t remember how to play. Every note seems wrong, and he can’t decide if he’s hearing it wrong, if there’s something wrong with his hearing, his perception, or if the note really is just wrong.
Ellie plays for him, instead.
It’s easier than talking. Neither of them are really good at that, anyway. He’s just glad she’s around at all.
He can’t help but think of that last conversation he’d had with her on the back porch, that she wants to try to forgive him, even if she thinks she might never be able to. He supposes this is her way of trying her hand at that.
Sometimes he wonders if it would be like this if he hadn’t almost died, if he wasn’t collecting sympathy from everyone like there was some kind of shortage. Maybe that conversation on the porch would have meant nothing, otherwise.
The thought hurts him, no matter how glad he is that she’s there.
One evening, pretty late, as snow peppers down through the early winter black that curtains the window, she stops playing.
The living room is quiet, aside from their breathing and the crackle of flames in the fireplace.
“I was going to invite you over to watch a movie.”
The metallic twang of the last note she plucked hangs in the air.
“I was - I was going to fucking ask you to watch a movie with me. That night. One of those dumb action movies you like. Like the ones we used to watch, remember? Curtis and Viper 2.”
She doesn’t look at him. She stares at her fingers, idly, nervously, twisting the tuning pegs of the guitar. “Think I saw that one before,” he answers, voice a little choked. “Pretty good.”
Ellie rolls her eyes and doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. “Yeah, you would think so, old man,” she replies eventually but still doesn’t look up, her mouth twisting to the side. “I just - don’t want you to think I’m only here because you—” She shakes her head, and props the guitar against the wall before she stands and paces the room twice, toying with her fingers in that way she always has. “I never wanted anything bad to happen to you. Even when I was really mad.”
“Ellie,” he says but she doesn’t seem to hear him. “I know.”
“Anyway, I meant what I said.”
“Ellie.”
“I wanted things to get better. I wanted to try. I was going to.”
“Ellie.”
She spins suddenly toward the front door, one hand on the back of her neck, rubbing awkwardly. “I gotta get going.”
“Kiddo.” This time she turns and finally looks at him. The scent of pine and smoke fills the room. The red of the flames flash across her face, so serious and anxious.
When they first came to Jackson, they spent a lot of nights on the couch together. His neck always ached the next morning from sleeping upright but he’d never complain about it. Then the distance between them had grown, and he doesn’t know when the last time something like that had happened.
But that same distance is slowly shrinking now, even if things might never, never be the same again.
So many times when he looks at her, he still sees that fourteen year old kid. He’d had the same problem with Sarah, looking at his twelve year old and seeing her at five and eight. It was just how it went, being a parent.
“I know, Ellie,” he reassures her. “I do. It’s all right. Even if you didn’t mean a word of it, it’s all right. I meant what I said, too.”
And even though she said she needed to leave, she nods and sits down again. She plucks a few notes out on the guitar when she pulls it back into her lap.
“D'ya still wanna watch it?”
She does.
Joel is whittling.
It is decidedly not going well.
He’s too distracted for it. He never realized how much pressure settled on his shoulder, how much it pulled at the muscle around his ribs, from doing something as simple as this, and he doesn’t like the nausea that comes with the pain.
But it’s something he can do, so he does it.
It’s snowing outside again, wind raking against the siding, rattling the window panes. There’s a thin stream of air coming in around the window’s frame, cold.
His hands are chapped and raw, blood pooling at the seams of his knuckles.
The fix would be easy enough, but everything he needs to do it is in the basement. And the basement is a near impossible location for him to reach, so he puts up with it, hands growing more frustrated by the second because he wants to fucking fix it.
You use the office, his work space, often enough, and it’s one thing for him to be cold and uncomfortable, but another thing entirely for you to feel that way.
But he can’t make it down to the living room without help these days, let alone down two flights of stairs to the basement, and then back up them, too.
“Joel?”
He glances over his shoulder to find you standing in the doorway. You have a pair of shears in your hands.
“Still want me to cut your hair?”
He wants to do it himself. But you’d offered earlier, because you’ve been doing it for him for a long time, for years and years now. And he’d always liked it because your hands are kind with it and you’re better at doing it, anyway. But now it just feels like one more thing he can’t do for himself, one more thing he’s relying on someone else for, and that makes guilt and shame choke him.
Joel can’t seem to do a damn thing, not for himself, but, worse, not for anyone else either.
“Joel?” You ask again when the silence stretches until it’s uncomfortable. “I don’t have to; you can do it yourself.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s all right, darlin’.” You start forward when he labors up from the chair, teeth gritted, but quickly stop when he meets your eyes, warning you away with a glance.
You don’t say anything else, just back out the door and pad down the hall to the bathroom.
He isn’t sure if your feelings are hurt or not, all his focus directed on hauling himself upwards and then limping down the hall with one crutch under his arm. Feeble threads of pain lance up his leg, centering in his joints, the hinge of his knee. The space under his arm is sore too, from the crutch, even wrapped in cloth.
Joel is used to pain. He’s used to temporary aches, the sharp stab of healing wounds, the quick rip of a bullet or knife through skin, chronic pains from age and long healed injuries. On cold days, his side aches something fierce, like that rebar never really came out of him.
But this pain is different, without origin, and he’s having a hard time adjusting to it. Or maybe he’s just having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that this is not a healable injury, at least, not in the way he wants it to be.
For the rest of his life, he will be disabled. He’ll never get back to himself, never be what he once was.
The bathroom light is gold. It washes his skin into a better color, not so pale and strained and pained looking.
He hates looking in the mirror now. Joel never considered himself particularly good looking, never thought about it much, really. And, for most of his life, looks haven’t really mattered anyway.
But seeing his reflection now is a reminder of his failures. It’s a reminder of everything he can’t do.
His whole body is nothing but reminders.
He is a patchwork quilt of scars.
He doesn’t know how you can stand to look at him. But you just brush your hands through his hair when he leans the crutch against the counter and sits heavily on the stool you dragged upstairs.
The bathroom is thick with the scent of lavender and earth. Every winter it turns into a makeshift greenhouse, all the plants that can’t survive the winter dragged inside for the season.
The feeling of your hands through his hair is soothing and the tension in his shoulders slides away.
“I can do it myself,” he grumbles, despite himself, and without conviction when you run a comb through his hair.
You hum under your breath, not really paying him any mind. You know he doesn’t really mean it. Even if he feels like a fucking burden for it, it’s something you’ve always done for him, so it’s a little easier for him to accept. “I know. I like to.” You tilt his chin up and Joel steadfastly avoids looking in the mirror. “Besides, I’m better at it. You take to it like it’s a hack job.”
The trim doesn’t take long, since he keeps his hair longer anyway. It’s mostly an excuse for you to rake your fingers through his hair.
“The window needs fixin’,” he says when you slide in front of him and set about trimming his beard without asking. That’s fine, too. “I know you been, uh, kinda cold in that room.”
“It’s not so bad,” you say when you finish with him, brushing your fingers against his cheeks and then through his hair. You smile, eyes crossing his face, tracing his features like a well known map, before you twitch a lock of hair away from his forehead. “You gonna fix it for me or what?”
“Mighty big ask of ya,” he grouses, irritation itching at the edge of his mind.
You’re still smiling faintly, touching his face, the curl of hair behind his ear, the scar along his hairline and then the one over his nose.
“I just can’t see how,” you say and Joel almost snaps. He wants to. He wants to say you don’t fucking get it, that you don’t want to get it, that it’s different now. He wants to say he’s not the man you’ve always known, that shit ain’t as easy as it’s always been. He can’t do shit for you, anymore, and isn’t that the reason you’ve stuck around all these years?
But then you continue. “I left that damn caulking gun on the side table three days ago.”
“You what?”
You shrug. “Thought you might have noticed it too. And I’ve always been so bad at that stuff.”
The guilt that settles in him is heavy, but familiar. The shape of it is different, but it's still like shrugging on an old coat, it’s so natural and intimate.
He must be destined for some kind of failure, born under a bad star, something.
Everything he touches falls apart, no matter what he does. Everyone he holds dear, leaves him, one way or another, somehow. His mama, Sarah, and then Tommy, and then Tess. Most recently Ellie, though maybe things there were being mended. Maybe you were next, soon as you came to your senses.
Joel has spent most of his life taking care of people. And when he wasn’t taking care of people, he was moving, working. He hardly ever sat still. He didn’t have time to sit still.
Not before the outbreak, and certainly not after.
Even in Jackson where the pace of the world is slower, he was always busy. If he wasn’t on patrol, he was on wall duty, looking after Jackson’s security. Or, he was fixing something for someone, building something, helping with the horses. If he wasn’t doing any of that, he was improving his house, he was working on a new carving, he was playing the guitar.
Healing up, it’s involved a whole lot of sitting still and feeling useless. It had involved a lot of other people fussing over him.
A lot of sitting still and feeling like he was failing everyone he knew. Like he had already failed everyone he knew. For all the effort he put into it, it would never be enough. He cares wrong, he loves wrong, and now he can’t even do that.
He fails you in this, too. Of wishing he could accuse you of all the things he thinks of himself.
Joel knows you think of it too, you just haven’t gotten frustrated enough with him to say it yet. You haven’t had the full weight of his broken, uselessness on you, yet.
That day will come. There’s no way it won’t, because he can’t do for you what he’s always done, what he was put on this god forsaken earth to do. The one thing he’s always been able to do. Not just for you, but for everyone. Ellie, Tommy and his family, Jackson at large.
It’s always been the thing he could point to and say look, this is why I am like this, this is why you need me, why I’m around. You survived because of me. Because I made sure you did.
So he’s not worth much now, really, and all the promises he made you and all the promises he made to himself, he can’t keep them anymore. And isn’t that why you stuck by him all these years? Despite all his shortcomings?
“Sorry, darlin’,” he cups your face in his hands, smoothes his thumbs over your cheeks, the hinge of your jaw. “I’ll get right on fixin’ that for you.”
“I know you will. Thank you, Joel.” The full weight of your head tips into his hands, and your eyes slide shut. His hands are large against your jaw, scarred and calloused, harsh. Reminders, maybe, of what he used to be. He looks at the hollows beneath your eyes, the raw, worried skin of your bottom lip.
You don’t sleep anymore and when you do you have nightmares. You hate to leave the house. And sometimes you flinch even when nothing is happening around you, like memories are snapping at your heels.
He did all that to you, too. Terrible gifts he’s given and can’t take back.
When he glances back up to your eyes, you’re staring at him, a worried, anxious kind of look lodged there that he absolutely hates.
“What?” He asks, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks and then the delicate hinge of your jaw.
“Nothing.” Your eyes shift away from his, and you twitch in his grasp. He already knows what you’re about to say, because you’ve never gotten better at saying it, just like him. He doesn’t need you to say it, but you do anyway, and he hates how much he likes hearing it. It’s like a ray of golden sun. “I love you, Joel,” you murmur and hook your hands around his wrists.
For a long time, you just look at him, the silence is heavy with unsaid words, but he isn’t sure which of you is the one not saying something. “That enough?” He eventually grunts. “For you?”
You frown. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do you think it’s not?”
It shouldn’t be. All those promises stack up in his mind again, everything he can’t keep.
“It shouldn’t be.”
You pull his hands away from your face with a shake of your head and lean in to kiss him. Your lips part softly against his, the hitch of your breath sweet against his mouth. The heat of you is so close and intoxicating, it’s something he never wants to have to give up, not when your thumbs are pressed to the pulse in his wrists, and not when you taste like apple, honey.
He shakes one of your hands away to wrap his arm around your back and pull you closer, until the warmth of your body is pressed securely to his chest. Your tongue slides against his, teeth nipping gently at his bottom lip. Something warm floods his cheeks and his chest goes tight.
When you pull back, you tug on a piece of his hair then touch the blush pinking on his face. “You look real handsome, Texas.”
He tucks his forehead against your collarbone, and you fold your hands against the back of his head. “It’s enough,” you say. “Always has been.”
The next day, he finds that most of his tools have been relocated upstairs, either to one of the cabinets in the living room, or to the office upstairs.
Either way, he no longer has to traverse two staircases down and back up.
He isn’t sure when you had the time to do it, or why he didn’t at least hear you doing it.
Joel’s chest swells with love for you, right alongside the guilt that does nothing but grow.
He fixes the window.
Some days are easier than others.
He has good days and bad, and some of the bad days are worse than others. He sows the feelings up inside himself, cocoons the bad away inside his chest. It’s easier that way. And it’s necessary now. It’s just another thing you’d have to deal with.
He’s never been good at saying the things that needed said, anyway.
He tries not to snap at you. He’s trying not to get mean, and he can’t just walk away like he used to be able to when his mind got messy. But he’s been failing because he wants you to fight with him, wants you to hate him.
Joel wants you to say that he fucking failed, that he’s been failing his whole life at the one thing he was supposed to be able to do. The one thing he’s really good for.
“Stop it,” Joel snarls one day in the spring, when you offer your hand down the steps to the living room.
He doesn’t mean to snap at you like that, but he doesn’t take it back either. He’s in too much pain. And he doesn’t want to admit it.
The smile slips off your face as you step back from him, a stoney expression sliding over your face instead. It’s routine, you helping him, and maybe that’s the problem. He grits his teeth, that look reminds him of Boston, reminds him of the time before you used to trust each other.
“I ain’t helpless.”
You raise your hands and take another step back, looking away from him as you do.
The breeze that comes in the landing’s open window is cool. It isn’t quite warm enough for the window to be open but the house needs airing out after such a long winter, such a hard winter. The air is crisp with the scent of pine and the lavender hung in dried clumps above each doorway.
“I know, Joel.”
When he looks at you, you visibly brace yourself.
A wave of self-hatred so hot it burns immediately follows the guilt. But it also doesn’t stop the angry, frustrated pulse beneath the surface of his skin, pressing against the back of his teeth.
“I don’t know why you didn’t just leave me there.” The words are bitter, poisonous. Accusatory. “You should have left me to fuckin’ die.”
Whatever you might be expecting him to say, it isn’t that. Your breath catches hard.
You can be cruel, too. He waits for your anger, the burn of words he deserves to hear, something mean and hateful but true.
But the words don’t come; your anger doesn’t come. You just look tired and empty, sad.
You pace the landing, the soft shush of your footsteps echoed by the creaking of the floorboards. Your silence pricks at him. He wants you to scream at him, blame him, for failing, for being so fucking stupid.
“What if it was me?”
Your voice is so low, he almost doesn’t catch your words.
The quiet of your footsteps come to a halt. “What if it had been me, Joel? It could have been. It could have easily been me. They knew who you were. We’ve done a lot of the same shit. We’ve made a lot of the same enemies over the years.”
Your hands are shaking, your breath comes in quick little pants. The acrid, bone aching feeling of cresting anxiety and panic floods the little landing. “Me and you and Tess, we were kind of a package fucking deal. So, what if it was me?”
The breeze sliding through the open window feels different now. Colder, older, more brutal.
“That’s fuckin’ different and y’know it,” he snarls.
“Why?” Anger floods your face, the curl of your fingers harsh against your arms when you cross them. “Why would that have been different? Because you think I always need to be taken care of?”
He doesn’t answer. He looks away from you, but he can’t go anywhere. He’s at your mercy and you both hate it.
Joel leans heavily against the wall, his right hand curling around his left wrist, a nervous, anxious tick he’s never been able to shake.
“Tell me,” you beg. “Say it, Joel. How is it different? Why?”
He shakes his head once, slowly, and doesn’t look up at you. “You can say it,” you continue, your voice eerily quiet. “You never trusted me to have your back.”
That ain’t it at all.
It’s not your failure. It’s his, in every single way. He doesn’t blame you or Tommy or Ellie or anyone else. He doesn’t believe for a second that you don’t know that.
It would have been better, probably, if he died.
He doesn’t understand the guilt you feel.
He can’t take care of you anymore, can’t protect you anymore.
Worse, he can’t do that for his kid.
If he’d died, maybe that final sacrifice would have been enough to make up for everything else. Maybe it would all just be done.
He’s the one breaking promises, not you, just like he always has been.
Sometimes, when he thinks of Sarah, he can only remember her final moments. He can’t think of anything else but her blood, how red it was in the dark. He can’t think of anything else than what could have been. He can only see the halo of that mounted flashlight glaring into his eyes, his own voice pleading. Please don’t.
If he’d just been shot, he would have died first, he wouldn’t have ever known how bad he failed in that moment. He would have died first, like a parent was supposed to. No good father should ever outlive his kid.
Maybe, this had been his second chance, to finally die first.
Born lucky, bad star, like always.
So, what would he do, if it had been you? He’d have taken care of you, just like you’re doing for him. But that is not anathema to him; that is just how things are supposed to go. It wouldn’t have been a failure.
He’s no use to you anymore, no use to anyone.
He doesn’t say any of that.
Instead, he nods.
“You’re right.” He shrugs and pain splinters across his shoulders. “It would have been different.”
Your expression flickers blank and you turn away. It would have been easier to stomach if you screamed at him, if you slammed a door.
But you’re just quiet.
Once, during the late autumn, when you were traveling with Joel and Ellie, you noticed Joel wasn’t eating.
Food was in short supply. None of the houses or buildings you looted turned up anything edible, and wild game had been elusive for weeks as the weather turned wetter and chillier.
You’d noticed him doing it a few times before, but nothing like then. Joel would dole out carefully rationed food and not allocate any to himself. The bags under his eyes deepened. His temper was shorter. He’d gotten pale and hollows appeared in his cheeks that meant he hadn’t been getting enough. Joel had always been huge, broad and strong and tall, with thick arms and thighs, but when he dropped weight, it always showed in those little hollows first.
Then, one evening, after clearing out a barn of infected, he’d stumbled, hand to his forehead, pale as you’d ever seen him. “Christ,” he’d mumbled.
“Joel?” Ellie’s voice had pitched up with worry. She’d looked at you, and said, “He hasn’t been eating.” The words were all a rush, accusatory and begging for you to do something.
“Ellie—” He’d growled.
“I know she’s right, Joel,” You’d interrupted with a snap. “You think we wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t notice?”
He’d gotten pissed off and marched off into the woods to the stream to refill your canteens. You’d given him a wide berth for several hours, making the newly cleared barn into something livable for the night with Ellie. When dark had started to set in you went after him, boots crunching through frozen leaves.
He’d been sitting by the creek bed, an inscrutable expression on his face. “We ain’t got enough,” he’d said, not looking at you. “You and Ellie need it more. I’m fine.”
“But you're not. You can’t just not eat. You can’t take care of us if you aren’t okay, Joel.”
The air had smelled like earth and decaying leaves and stagnant water and ice. The scent reminded you of better times, of apple cider and cinnamon and new beginnings, of autumn fairs and coffee shops.
You’d sat behind him, pulled him against you for just a moment, chin on his shoulder, and said, “It’s all right to let me look after you, too.”
You figure that even with the change in circumstances, things are still like that with Joel. He’s always doing the metaphorical equivalent of making sure everyone else eats first, even if it means he’s starving.
He’s never been one to give up or give in or let go. When Tess was bitten, Joel hadn’t wanted to leave her. He’d wanted to stay and fight. To fight a useless and unwinnable fight. That mindset was never going to fade.
You don’t speak for a few days. Guilt swallows the whole of your heart and leaves you dry and empty. Joel blames you, you think, even if he won’t say it.
He comes to you late one night.
It’s dark and the bedroom is overly warm. He sits heavily but without help at the edge of the bed. He’s getting better at that, even if he doesn’t think he is.
His hair is longer and it falls into his face when he leans over you, fingers against your forehead and temple and then your cheek.
“When I was real young,” he says. “My dad died. We didn’t have much money and my mama worked all the time.”
You turn on your back and try to make his face out but his expression is unreadable.
Joel hardly ever talks about his folks.
“I got my first job when I was fourteen, to help with the bills. Money was better on account of half of it not bein’ drank away, but we still needed the cash.” Joel pauses and you scoot over. It takes a minute for him to find a comfortable position with you but when he does, he continues. His voice echoes against your ear, the beat of his heart pounds against your cheek. His chin rubs against your forehead, one large hand splayed across your shoulders.
“Since she worked so much, I was always takin’ care of Tommy, of damn near everything else. And my mama, too, sometimes.” He swallows, and you feel the bob of his throat against your forehead. His chest is warm beneath your cheek, even through the two layers he always wears. “So I knew I was young when Sarah came along, but I didn’t really feel it. I took care of her and her mother, ‘til she went her own way. Just the way I always had.”
The rise and fall of his chest is steady. He cups his free hand around yours and tucks your palm against his heart.
“I know I’m not easy, in any sense of the word. I never have been.” A heavy tug of shame weighs his voice down. “Too mean and bitter, I guess.” There’s a long pause, and you want to protest but you’re sure if you interrupt, Joel won’t finish saying whatever it is he needs to.
“So anyway,” he continues. “I try to make up for it. By doin’ what I always have, even if it means I end up alone. I wouldn’t change anything. I don’t know what I’m good for if—” His hand slides up your spine, thick fingers resting at the base of your neck. “And I can’t do it anymore. Can’t take care of ya. So, it woulda been different, if it had been you. Because it’s you we’re talkin’ about.”
Joel goes quiet after that. His palm continues its nervous path over your spine. The bristles of his beard are soft against your temple. The rhythm of his breathing is still slow and even, but you feel the prickle of nerves in the way he touches you.
It isn’t easy for Joel to say the things he feels, even to you, even all these years later.
His body is so familiar to you, so warm and strong beneath you. Comfort, in short, in its purest form.
You aren’t expecting him to say any more, but he does. “Things. . .they always have a way of fallin’ apart, in the end.”
When you lift your head, he doesn’t look at you. You press a finger against the edge of his jaw, turning his head gently until his eyes meet yours. “Joel,” you touch your forehead to his. You aren’t good with words either, but you try. “You are more than that. More than what you can do for people.”
He’s quiet for a long time, eyes fluttering closed, his breath a calm pool against your mouth. “And I’m more than that? To you?”
“Joel, if I only wanted some guard dog, I would have gotten one that could listen better.”
He snorts, and a little of the tension melts away. “Yeah, I reckon you would have.”
The dark is a warm cocoon of things less easily said in the light.
“Yes,” you say quietly after a long, peaceful silence. “Joel. You’re so much more to me than that.”
It’s late spring again. The Wyoming air is mild, and heavy with the scent of blooming life.
Sage grows in dense clumps up in the mountains, deep between the ridges of the sharp peaks. The smell of it, earthy and crisp, chases itself on the breeze, all the way down to Jackson. It twines with the smell of flowers painstakingly planted along his front path.
Arrowleaf. Goldenrod.
Lavender, right by the mailbox, courtesy of some superstition held onto from before the outbreak.
It’s thick, cloying, pungent.
It’s overripe, rotting. It smells like death.
It’s making Joel fucking nauseous.
He squeezes your arm, a warning without words that he needs a break.
It’s the smell.
It’s the sun and the gentle breeze.
He tells himself the sick, crawling pain mixing sourly in his stomach has nothing at all to do with his newly fitted prosthetic leg.
Slowly, without a word, you turn and guide him back through his familiar backyard to the porch.
He sits heavily on the steps, just inside the cool pool of shade, and pulls in deep breaths that rattle in his lungs and do nothing to stave off the dizziness, or the pain.
Your hand slides up and down his back before your palm settles against the back of his neck and urges his head down between his knees.
Joel feels like a fucking kid. His hands are shaking.
“Damn thing is useless,” he growls after a minute when the nausea passes and he can lift his head, because it’s the only thing he can do, because it’s goddamn humiliating.
Everything is, these days.
You just bump your shoulder into his and hum low under your breath, used to his attitude, used to his bark that only sometimes has a bite.
You’re patient with him, but tough, not willing to indulge his foul moods. “It’s just something you have to get used to,” you assure him. “It’s not going to be like before.”
Joel doesn’t want to admit that he wants to take the prosthetic off. It’s like admitting defeat before he’s even gotten a chance to fight.
And he’s tired.
Exhausted, really.
“Hey,” you dig your nails into his wrist. He meets your eyes, pragmatic, practical, his match in everything. “We aren’t supposed to go at it so hard anyway, remember? You did really well.”
He doesn’t want to admit that, either, that your praise washes pink in his veins, that he likes to hear it, thrives on it. If he’s doing right by you, good in your eyes, things can’t be awful as they might seem.
That’s what he latches onto. Your pride. Your acceptance.
“This was just the first time, Joel,” you continue. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
He ain’t so sure about that, not with the way his leg aches. A leg that isn’t even there anymore, chopped off right above the knee, to save his life, apparently. It’s part of why it hurts so goddamn much. Feels like he’s pushing his calf into something it can’t fit in, like the long gone meat and bone are getting ground up into his thigh.
But if he gets the hang of it, then things will be better. He’ll at least be able to move on his own. He might be able to find some way to work again. Wall duty was looking pretty good, because all you really have to do is sit there and watch the horizon and be able to shoot pretty well.
There is hope in the future. There is hope in you reminding him of that, realistic to a fault, pragmatic to your core.
And unlike Joel, you’ve never had it in you to lie.
Joel tightens his hand on your forearm again, pressure on your sun warmed skin. It’s a poor substitute for the thank you that you deserve. You seem to get his meaning though. Your hand feathers through his hair again and the sun doesn’t feel so abrasive, and the smells of spring don’t seem so weighed down by death.
“Ellie’s coming for dinner,” you offer. “Said she’s got a movie or a game or something that she wants to show you.”
Yeah, so maybe the day ain’t so bleak as he thought it was.
“All right.”
You offer him a hand up, and slip your arm behind his back. He carefully drapes his arm around your shoulders, mindful, even now, of his weight against yours. “What a strong thing you are,” he comments, not able to stop the corner of his mouth from twitching. You look so determined.
It’s the way you always look, when put to task.
You roll your eyes. “Lucky for you.”
“Lucky for me,” he says, soft about it.
The stairs are the worst part of getting back inside, but it's much easier than it had been before.
It’s a relief to collapse into the couch and take the prosthetic off. The phantom pains still ache and stretch painfully tight, like the skin is being pulled taut, like there was a knot that just needed massaged out. He grits his teeth and represses the urge to reach down and rub sore muscle that no longer exists.
It’s a relief to collapse into the couch, even if guilt punches him in the chest for it.
It’s an even bigger relief when you press yourself into the space next to him. He doesn’t know how you stand it sometimes. How you can look at him and still not hate him for every mistake he’s ever made.
“Knee always fuckin’ bothered me anyhow,” he comments, turning his head so his words brush against your temple. “Don’t gotta worry about it gettin’ stiff now, I reckon.”
You reward him with a snort, the scrape of your fingernails against his cheek, a kiss.
It’s easier to get around, with the prosthetic that he hates.
But he’s slow. Slower than he’s ever been in his whole life. And sometimes, most times, it frustrates him.
Being able to walk is one thing. It’s a fine thing. But he needs to be able to do more than that. Run, fight, shoot. A fucking pipe dream. But he’s back to building, carpentry, and that’s something at least. Something useful.
Joel has tried asking you about that day, because he doesn’t remember a whole lot besides the pain. But your chest goes fluttery with panic, the rise and fall of it unfamiliar to him. You don’t get nervous. You never have, not over anything.
But when he asks about that day, you mutter something about Tommy and blood, and he can’t get anything else out of you. Tommy does the same, eyes cast to the side, thumbs hooked in his belt, foot starting a nervous rhythm.
He doesn’t understand what’s wrong with either of you, what the goddamn problem is.
In some ways, Joel’s always thought you were tougher than him, a balance of brutal and rough and unforgiving with softened sweetness. Bash the skull of a hunter in with a metal pipe, then use your unsullied hand to stroke back Ellie’s hair, to offer help to strangers, to pat the nose of your horse gently.
He would never want to be on the other side of the wrath you kept wrapped up inside your heart.
But, now, you don’t leave Jackson anymore. You haven’t been outside Jackson’s walls since that day.
Tommy tells him you can’t even bear to take a shift on the wall, which mainly comprised of sitting at the top of the wall and doing a whole lot of nothing, looking at the horizon, shuffling your feet to keep warm.
It’s unlike you. You love to patrol, just like him.
That’s his fault, too. Your nightmares, your sleeplessness.
Ellie plays the guitar for him, even after he gets the hang of it again, even after he’s walking on his own again, the chords coming back to him easier and easier. They don’t have to talk much, that way.
She’s still mad, but he almost died, and she’s willing to try with him.
She comes over for dinner. She always brings a movie.
It gets easier.
And slowly, by the end of the summer, she smiles when she sees him.
He’s gotten the hang of walking again, which is never a sentiment he thought he’d have about himself. Joel always assumed he’d be killed before something like really old age could set in, or something like this, a disability he doesn’t want to learn to live with.
It’s rained recently and the yard smells like perchitor and the ever present mountain sage. The grass is just a little muddy from the many loops around the yard. “You’re going to fall and break your neck, old man.”
“Breakin’ my neck can’t be much worse than what it is right now. We ain’t goin’ around the yard anyhow. Now c’mon, put your shoes on, kiddo.”
“It’s still raining,” she complains.
“Means no one’s outside to see me humiliatin’ myself.”
Ellie only rolls her eyes but does it anyway. He doesn’t need a hand anymore, but he’s shaky sometimes and despite your best efforts he’s still refusing a cane. But he also hasn’t been using the track in the yard in weeks.
That, and he actually has somewhere to be these days, figuring out better security for Jackson, looking after the patrol teams, assessing who was ready to be put into rotation. Managing is what he should be calling it, though he doesn’t care for it. He and Maria butt heads too often for it to be anything close to enjoyable.
When they pass the mailbox, Ellie points to the lavender. “I never thought to ask about it before. It’s everywhere. Some nailed above the door and everything.”
“Some kinda thing about protectin’ the home,” Joel explains. “Far as I remember, it protects from bad energy. Somethin’ like that.”
“I thought that was sage?”
“Sage you burn,” he explains. “And we get plenty of that too. Whole damn house smells like it.”
“Seems like the kinda thing Dina would do,” she says and then seems to realize who she’s said it to. But she doesn’t change the subject. “Didn’t take her for the superstitious type. Doesn’t seem like it really works anyway.”
Joel shrugs. “She was before the outbreak, I guess.” He watches Ellie from the corner of his eye. She’s steadfastly not looking at him, but she also doesn’t usually say so much to him. “Didn’t have reason to think of it for a long time. Lavender wasn’t exactly in high supply in Boston.”
Ellie nods.
“She used to, uh, put some in your backpack when she knew you was goin’ out. Same with me, always put some in my pocket.”
There’s a long silence. Jackson’s streets are oddly empty in the pouring rain. Lights glow in the windows; inviting, homely. “She didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugs and his shoulder only aches a little for it. “It’s just the kinda thing parents do, even if it don’t make any damn sense.”
“Yeah,” Ellie agrees as the turn toward the center of Jackson. “You wanna stop in the Bison?”
“Sure,” he agrees. “For a minute.”
“Full schedule?” She teases. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your sunset years?”
“Well, gotta have something to fill up the days, kiddo. Maybe one day you’ll actually be able to keep up.”
She just scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, whatever."
Joel tries not to smile.
Being mobile again, busy again, feels good.
It feels good, but it also means he’s in near constant pain.
He tells himself it’s good, that pain sharpens him, makes him better.
Until he’s slumped on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night, heaving his guts up from the ache in his leg.
You find him there, sweaty and panting, with a glass of water in hand. Joel pushes himself upright against the wall with a sigh as you close the lid of the toilet and flush it before sitting beside him on the cool tile.
“You’re overdoing it again,” you say, not unkindly.
“I ain’t tryin’ to,” he mutters and takes the glass of water when you offer it to him.
“I know.” You cover his free hand with yours. “Wanna get up?”
You smell faintly of peppermint, burned incense.
When he shakes his head, you stretch to flip the light switch over your head. He’s plunged into darkness, alone, for just a moment, before you settle again. The warmth of your head against his shoulder feels stolen.
For a long time, neither of you say anything. He breathes through the pain still crawling around his knee, the phantom flesh of his calf.
“I was a goddamn fool,” he whispers into the silence. “You know what I was thinkin’ that day?” He’s not sure where the words come from, the confession. It feels a little like the words are being pulled up out of his body, yanked right from the center of his chest.
“Tell me,” your nose is warm when it bumps against his collarbone.
“‘Bout Ellie. How I’d want someone to help her, if she needed it. So I helped that girl. Almost got all of us fuckin’ killed.”
You don’t answer, not at first. But eventually, you lean into him and say, “If you want me to blame you, I won’t. I will never find fault in kindness.” Your thumb strokes his knuckles slowly. “Never. Especially not yours.”
He brushes his mouth along your hairline, skin silken against his mouth. “Y’know when we was on the road, I was sure you’d get us killed. But y’always knew when to trust someone. How much to trust ‘em.”
“I. . .” you start and then trail off, fingers squeezing around his. “I was always lucky, and I always knew I had you at my back. If I messed up, you were always there.”
His eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the bathroom, and when he meets your gaze, he can see the glaze of tears in your eyes. You suck in a shaking breath and clear your throat but don’t continue. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there the same way.”
“This ain’t on you,” he says. “Don’t think that. It’s me. It was a long time comin’ somethin’ would catch up to me.”
You settle in against him, one hand digging into the sore muscle of his thigh. The heat feels like, the flex of your gentle fingers even better. The pain that doesn’t exist fades just a little.
“And for the record, darlin’, you were there the same way.”
It’s autumn again when you go back onto the patrol rotation. There’s frost on the windows and on the spikes of overgrown grass in the front yard. He just got back from a night watch on the wall.
You’re taking his old routes with Tommy, and you don’t tell him about it until the morning of. Not a fucking soul breathed a word of it to him, and he’s the one figuring out the goddamned rotations.
And Joel realizes though he’d been worried about you not wanting to leave Jackson anymore, not even being able to go near the gates, he was glad you hadn’t wanted to. It meant you were safe. Even if he couldn’t keep you safe anymore, the walls of Jackson could.
“I’m not doing this with you right now,” you say before you leave, pretending like he can’t clearly see your hands shaking before you walk out the door.
He follows you onto the porch. He can’t remember what he says, just that you look upset and then hurt, just that you don’t say goodbye when you walk away and that you probably don’t have lavender tucked into your pocket like he always did.
“Please.” A word he hardly ever says, a plea he never gives into.
He says it to your retreating back as you pass the mailbox, but you either don’t hear him or choose to ignore him.
Maybe he didn’t say it at all.
That day is hell. It’s long and pocketed with anger and anxiety. If something happens to you, he isn’t sure what he’ll do. He doesn’t like that you left him upset.
Maria doesn’t entertain his outburst about it when he finally corners her after looking for her all morning. “She was ready.”
“I didn’t even know we were considerin’ sendin’ her back out!”
Maria just levels him with a glare that could freeze hell over. “That isn’t up to just you. And why do you think she didn’t want to tell you?”
He’s at the stables with Ellie that evening when you come home, waiting. It’s cold and his leg is aching something bitter and awful but he doesn’t move and Ellie doesn’t suggest going back home because she knows he won’t hear it. Dina stops by and he listens to them talk. Ellie’s face softens when she looks at Dina, cheeks a soft pink in the fading light, ducking her head and fidgeting with her fingers.
Joel tries not to pay them any mind, but it's hard not to find endearing.
When you and Tommy get back, it’s full dark. He wants to throttle his brother for not telling him you were going back out on the trails, but it’s too cold for much of that. All thoughts of strangling Tommy fly from his head as soon as he sees you, because you have a smear of blood on your cheek and down your neck.
“Goddamn it, what happened?” He demands, hands against your face before you’ve even fully dismounted.
“I’m fine.”
“That ain’t what I asked,” he sweeps his thumb over your skin, flakes of red shifting to the ground. The knot in his chest tightens as he watches it flutter through the air. “What happened?” He growls again. “Tommy?”
“The usual, Joel,” you pull his attention back to you. “It was just cleanup. A couple of infected. Nothing.”
“Uh huh,” he tilts your face one way and then the other.
“Just some splatter.” You shrug and smile at him; your mouth twitches, and he realizes you’re teasing him.
“Splatter,” he repeats flatly. “That ain’t funny. You ain’t funny. C’mon, let’s go home.”
Ellie and Dina have disappeared with your arrival but they aren’t far; he can hear their chatter as they walk along the street toward the center of Jackson, the echoes of their voices reaching back towards him. “I’ll deal with you later,” he says to his brother.
Tommy just raises his hands and says he’ll stable the horses. But he’s grinning and maybe that’s a good thing. It’s been awhile since his brother has seemed himself. It’s been awhile since the two of you have given him grief together.
“Leave Tommy alone,” you say as you walk toward Rancher Street. You seem steadier than you had been that morning, more confident, more yourself. It isn’t a long walk back, even with his leg, though he limps worse than usual because of the cold. You wrap an arm around his waist, your fingers digging into his back pocket, body warm against his side. “We did good together today.”
“Mhm. I’m sure you did.”
“You mad at me?”
“I wish you’d tell me,” he murmurs. “When you’re goin’ off to do somethin’ stupid. I need you to talk to me. Worried the whole goddamn day. You ain’t exactly in practice out there anymore.”
You hum and then nudge closer to him. “Put your arm around me.”
“I’m fine,” he grunts, maybe a little harshly.
“Joel,” you laugh and nuzzle your face against his shoulder. “C’mon. I’m cold and I had a rough day. Put your arm around me.”
So, he does. And he leaves it there until you’re in the bathroom, sitting on the counter in front of him, lavender plants stacked in the sink behind you once again as the colder weather sets in.
This is better. So much fucking better, than the other way around. This is right.
He cleans the blood away, finds the swell of a bruise on your shoulder and a cut lengthways over your collarbone.
It’s easy enough to take care of. It isn’t as bad as what he’d been imagining all day long.
He’s well in practice for this sort of thing, for bandaging and assessing wounds.
“Sorry,” he says as he works. “For this mornin’.”
“Mhm.”
“I worried all day. Not much I can do now, if you get into a spot of trouble.”
“I handle myself fine. Tommy was there. He’s a good partner out there.”
Joel grunts, dabs rubbing alcohol along the cut. “He is,” he agrees reluctantly. He supposes if you had to go on patrol with anyone, he’d prefer you go with his brother.
You touch him as he works, fingers patting over his jacket, the collar of his flannel, the frayed edge of the t-shirt beneath that. “I had to go back out, Joel. You would have argued with me and I can’t be afraid and useless forever.”
“Useless,” he scoffs and unspools a length of bandage. “You don’t know nothin’ about that.”
“Joel,” you say softly, exasperated. “Baby, you don’t know what it was like that day. I thought you were already dead.” Your voice trembles and you have to swallow harshly before you can continue. “Helpless and useless doesn’t even begin to cover what I felt. What I still feel.” You shake your head and cup your fingers around his. “I dream about it every single night and I still don’t really remember what happened. That scares me a lot.”
He slides his thumb along the gauze, your eyes wide and worried when he meets them.“I’ll never be who I was, sweetheart.” His voice sounds mournful to his own ears.
“You’re exactly the same man, Joel. I’m just happy you’re here and alive and you’re worried you aren’t alive the right damn way.” You shake your head. “I can’t ask for much more than what I have. Than what we do. Me and you. Ellie back in our life. A home. Food. Family. You,” you touch his jaw and smile. “Still here. Still taking care of me.”
There’s a lump in his throat, hard as a stone. “Yep.” He coughs in an attempt to clear his voice but he sounds just as wrecked when he speaks. “Patrol musta been real good to y’today.”
You just laugh, and the sound of it is wet. “Yeah. It was. I thought it would be terrible but I missed it.”
“I know you did.”
“You should come on a ride with me sometime,” you say slyly. “I bet it’d feel good to be back in the saddle. You’ve always been a good shot from the back of a horse.”
He has.
Maybe he should.
💞 If you made it this far, thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞
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Army, Man
Juan was your average guy before his life was changed forever. Decent grades at his dream college, but no friends to speak of. So when he received a letter to join the US army in his assigned mailbox Juan was very confused.
"The army? They must joking." Juan spoke as he looked at the recruitment flyer in his dorm room.
Juan and being enlisted in the army sounded like a twisted joke to him. He was scrawny and could barely do one pushup in gym class. Either way, Juan noticed a number at the bottom of the flyer in big bold letters and some voice in his head was nagging at him to call it.
"I guess it wouldn't hurt. Maybe it'll be fun! Who knows!" So Juan grabbed his phone and dialed the number.
Some rings later and it sounded like a guy picked a phone.
"Hey there, Name's Gruff, I'm assuming you're calling cause of the flyer you got in the mail, yeah?" Gruff's was deep and masculine. Definitely Juan's type but I bet he was straight.
"Y-Yeah! I thought I'd give it a shot since it's not like I got anything better to do!"
"That's the spirit man! Our army count has been real low due to... events so even one guy joining is great! But first I just need to ask you a few questions..."
"A-Alright. Go on ahead..." Juan had to wonder what they would ask.
"First question! Are you sure you want to join the army?" Gruff's tone was dead serious on this one and it shook Juan up a bit.
"U-Uh... Yeah!" Juan was too far in to quit now at least that was his reasoning.
"Wonderful! Next question. How muscular are you?"
Juan frowned. As mentioned before, he barely had muscle and never went to the gym. Still, he felt the need to answer honestly.
"N-Not really sir. Sorry."
"Haha don't worry about it! Alright that's all see you soon!" Gruff hung up before Juan could even say bye.
Juan was a bit shaken but that wasn't too bad. Juan pondered the interaction and something hit him.
"Wait... I didn't tell him my address and he said he'll see me soo-" A wave of pain immediately hit Juan and he fell to the floor.
It wasn't before long Juan's body began to grow and get more muscular. Juan's arms became much beefier as his biceps were the size of sports balls. Six perfect abs popped onto Juan's stomach as his nonexistent chest began to inflate and become thick poppable pecs as his back expanded to support his new musculature making his tshirt real tight. Soon after, Juan's neck got thicker as his adam's apple was now ever more prominent than before as he gained some facial hair around his mouth. Juan's legs were next to grow as his thighs became much larger and his legs more defined as feet increased some sizes. Luckily Juan wasn't wearing any shoes but Juan's socks definitely didn't survive the growth. Some more minor changes appeared like a bigger dick and Juan's body aging physically. It's a miracle none of Juan's clothes ripped apart but it's not like it mattered anyway as Juan's apparel began to change.
Juan's graphic tee became more tough material and more generic as it became a dark green. It was still tight around Juan's figure though. Next up was Juan's pants as it gained a camouflage pattern and became cargo pants. A belt magically appeared and looped around the belt holes of his news pants as well as an army hat wrapping around Juan's head. Juan's socks were stitched back together and went a dark black and suddenly army boots were now being worn by Juan. The last change was an army tag appearing around Juan's neck saying "Juan Graham". Juan was now the definition of a buff army man.
Once the pain subsided and Juan regained his bearings he readjusted his glasses and looked at the mirror nearby.
"What the- WHAT THE FU- Oh god, my voice... my EVERYTHING!" Juan was amazed but also scared. He gained muscles in seconds but how?
And before Juan could question things further, Juan's phone rang once again. Juan saw that it was the army recruit number. He concluded they must be involved so he answered the call.
"Hey Juan, ready for your first day?" It was Gruff again
"First day? You did this to me, didn't you?"
"Not sure what you mean, but you agreed to join the army and we need you now."
"But I don't even know anything about how to do anythin-" One more sound of pain hit Juan as memories of years of military training and gym workouts filled his mind. Everything he could ever need to be in the army was now in his brain. Juan now much more confident started a new sentence.
"Nevermind. When does the car get here?"
"That's our Juan! Should be there soon. You can walk out and wait already."
"Perfect. See you soon." Juan hung up and left his dorm and old life behind. It was probably for the best anyway. He much preferred being a beefcake army man than some twink in college.
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Apologies for not posting for a couple months. I got major writer's block but here's a story for you guys hope you like it!
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The Helping Hands of your Tipsy Dads
~Fandom(s): Hazbin Hotel
~Warning(s): Swearing
~Ship(s): Huskerdust if you squint
~Word count: 1,600
Stars platonic preteen/teen reader !
~In which Charlie has given you homework to revise on to keep your mind sharp. even down here- and you’ve sat down at the bar between two residents of the hotel, one drunk, one clueless and not yet drunk.
-♥+♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥+♥-
It was late at night, and in the dimly-lit foyer of the Hazbin Hotel, you sat alone on a velvety stool with a crisp sheet of times tables in front of you, numbers of all sizes causing your vision to flick from left to right across the page. You were in hell- why you were being forced to continue your education in the bitter afterlife, you weren’t sure, but you were reluctant about it as any child your age would be, even if everything was clean. Charlie had tried to teach you for a while, but noting your scowl and silence, she had thrust a book into your hands and sent you on your way, leaving you stuck on the fifth question on the page of all- that being a world problem of triple multiplication. What made her think you would understand this?
The situation was even more ironic considering where you had chosen to sit. There wasn’t really anywhere to sit down and work on math problems in the hotel, let alone anywhere in hell, and choosing the bar felt like a joke in itself. Once you had sat down, Husker had eyed your work, but hadn’t attempted to assist you. Perhaps he was as shaken by your venomous glare as the princess of hell had been.
You were scribbling out bits of the writing on the paper as an act of rebelliance, when the door to the hotel swung open, making you shiver from the night air. In walks Angeldust, the hotel’s resident ‘celebrity’. You and Angel had seldom communicated besides the occasional greeting and him sometimes hoisting you up under your armpits when you got too close to something you shouldn’t and depositing you elsewhere- those interactions were often silent on his end, as well. You glance towards him, interested in anything other than the tedious task ahead of you. He looks a little…messy. Ruffled. He isn’t exactly secretive about his profession, and you’re not some innocent baby, so you know of what he does, but not what happens to him exactly.
He cracks his back, his lower pair of arms adjusting out his striped blazer, and comes right over to the bar as he always does after a rough shoot, greeting Husker with a blown kiss and sitting down a seat away from you, resting the elbows of his upper arms on the counter top.
“Summin’ strong, Whiskers.” he says, smoothing down his hair. “I’m drinkin’ to forget.”
As Husk sighs softly at the usual nickname and nods, turning away, Angel’s eyes are drawn onto you- sat there in your pyjamas, with a booklet in your small hands. His eyebrows pinch together.
“You’re not here to drink, are ya, tiny?”
You look up at him, then shake your head, looking annoyed. Angel is amused by your expression. “Well ya look like ya could use one, honestly. What’s that?” he taps your work book as you start to scowl all over again.
“Homework.”
“What? Homewo- we have schools down here??”
You shake your head, and your hand itches to vandalize the page in front of you. “No. Charlie told me I have to. I have to keep learning.”
Angel can’t help but snicker at your predicament. “Buzzkill. Well I'm okay in some areas, little buddy. Pass it over.”
You’re surprised, for a split-second. A porn star wants to help you do…math. Still, you’d do anything to get out of it, so you cap your marker and slide the sheet across the countertop to him. He reads it over, squinting- much to Husk’s amusement.
“Ehh…oookayy. Yeaah. I g….I get it. Kay, so…” he sets the sheet down again, switching seats to be closer to you. He taps the page again, getting your attention. “It looks like- oh, what the- dammit, toots. Why’d ya scribble all over the page, huh?”
When you don’t give him an answer, he looks up to Husk, sighing. “Fetch us a rubber, wouldya, baby?”
“I ain’t your slave.” Husker mumbles, but takes the rubber he uses to rid his notes on orders of mistakes and puts it on the table by your hands. Angel takes a hold of it, scrubbing the words and brushing away the shavings afterwards.
“Neat. Lemme see again.” he looks over the word problem, and starts to look just as confused as you. “This is- this is bull. What’s it even askin ya for?”
“I have to tell it how many biscuits are in the boxes.” you mumble, and hear Husker bite back raspy chuckles, with Angel struggling not to laugh as well. Your scowl deepens.
“B-biscuits?” Angel giggles, looking closer at the sheet. “Classic princess sunshine, huh? Okay, well…it says seventeen biscuits in each packet, and three in a- a box…what does that mean, toots?” he turns to you, secretly hoping you have the answer already. You don’t.
“How am I supposed to know?” you ask him, glaring down at the sheet again. “I don’t care about biscuits. They can figure it out themselves.” you reach forward to rip the sheet, before Angel takes your wrists in his hands, stopping you.
“Hold on, hold on, tiny.” he coos, trying not to laugh again. “It- it’s okay, alright? We can figure this out. So. seventeen- uh…seventeen in…three. Right? Wait, hold on…”
Husker snorts from behind the counter. “You suck at this, Angel.”
“Shut your pussy mouth.” Angel growls back, making you giggle out of shock. “You wish you could do math like me.”
You take your phone from your pocket, entering the problem into an online calculator under the table, hoping they haven’t just caught you cheating. “Got it.” you say, putting back your phone. “It’s seventeen times-”
“You little minx.” You’re suddenly pick-pocketed by Angeldust, making you internally curse yourself as he tsks at you. He dangles your phone above your head. “I have eight eyes, toots. Didya really think that would work?”
“I hate you.”
“Woah!” Angel laughs, and Husker even chuckles a little. “So vulgar, little young’un! What do ya think Charlie would do, huh?” He pokes up your sides with his lower pair of arms, making you squeal and giggle dumbly.
“Stop!” you push him away, embarrassed to have laughed. “You can’t even do it! There’s nothing left to do but cheat!”
“You make it sound like it’s the end of the world, piccino!” He affectionately ruffles your hair. “C'mon! Ya one of the only sober people here, ya got this.”
“That’s because they’re under eighteen, Angel.” Husker mutters condescendingly, making Angel scowl. Angel moves the sheet around, getting you to look at it again.
“Eyes on the prize, y/n. This’ll make you smarter than ever. Now do it off your head. Seventeen times three is..?”
You sigh, uncapping your marker and writing seventeen, then an x, and a three below it. You write fifty-one as the answer, having remembered it from earlier. Angel grins.
“Sweet. Okay. then um….okay, next the question asks how many biscuits will be in…” Angel gasps, taken aback by the lack of sense in the scenarios, making you giggle. “Fif- fifteen thousand biscuits?!” He snatches up the sheet, waving it around in front of Husker’s face. “These fat fuckers need fifteen thousand biscuits calculated for ‘em! Cows!”
Both you and Husker start to laugh, your hands clutching the countertop so you won’t fall off your stool. Through the hysterical giggles, your brain has turned up to be useful after all. “I got it!” you shriek, taking back the sheet as your hand shakes with laughter. “I-I got it, I know! It wanted me to do- do seventeen times three, then the answer times f-fifteen thousand three hundred n seventy nine!”
You scratch down the answer, then fact check it on your phone after getting Angel to give it back to you. The three of you all cheer as the answer comes up- Seven hundred thousand and eighty- four, three hundred and twenty-nine. Biscuits.
By then, you were hungry enough to eat that many biscuits, so Husker makes you a juice to drink along with them as Angel gets tipsier. You tick off the fifth question, drawing a quick doodle of Angel and Husker beside it in acknowledgement. It’s cute- who needs math when you’ve got such a talented hand? Your eyes scan down the sheet, and you giggle tiredly at the irony, looking back up at Angel and Husker.
“Okay, guys.” you say, rubbing your eyes and catching the attention of their own. “Only thirty five more questions to go.”
That was how you ended up spending the rest of your night- well, at least until you fell asleep at the bar with ten questions left on your sheet and Angel scooped you up into his many arms, taking you off to bed whilst Husker stayed at the bar, finishing off the sheet for you in his best attempt at replicating your shaky chicken scratch. Charlie didn’t have to know, and so long as you kept going back to them, she never would.
-♥+♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥+♥-
So cute hehehe thank u for reading pookies
More coming soon!
#huskerdust#husk x angeldust#angeldust x husk#gn reader#reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin angel dust#hazbin husk#vivziepop#fanfic#fanfiction#gay#hellaverse#young!reader#teen!reader
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what i'm tryna say is . . .
pairing: percy jackson x gn! reader
summary: you make a point to finally confront percy about why he's been acting so distant.
warning(s): slightly angsty at the start, mutual pining, idiots in love, interrupted love confession.
part 2 part 3
when it came to feelings and relationships, you had to admit. you weren't the best at them.
you weren't stupid. you knew when someone's intentions weren't as platonic as they wanted it to seem. television taught you that -- though tv wasn't the same as reality and sometimes things aren't as forward as they usually were made to be, people just don't work like that.
you kind of hated that fact, actually. the fact that people were so complicated annoyed you so to speak. especially when it came to the various relationships in your life. your relationship with your mother was..rocky. so, the fact that your father was that of an immortal all powerful deity didn't help at all. you hated the fact that the gods were so fickle with the way they spoke to their demigod children.
they'd abandoned them, yet couldn't even offer them a direct sentence or word of advice. it seemed so bittersweet to you. the existence of camp half-blood was a comforting thought yet, challenged you with hard questions at the same time.
why couldn't the god protect their children themselves? why the hell would they just their put kids in danger knowing there was monsters out to get them? and most of all, why didn't they care enough to stick around?
these questions were built on nothing but anger and hatred yet, you couldn't stop them from popping up whenever you had a moment to yourself. this kind of stuff was complex, hard to understand. it was probably why you even hated thinking about it for too long.
you tried your best to avoid bringing up complex feelings, you really did. but.. sometimes you had to face your fears. or -- something like that you figured.
you idled in front of the poseidon cabin, an unnerving feeling in the pit of your stomach as you tried your best to put on a brave face. you had nothing to be scared of, honestly! it was such a stupid situation you'd found yourself worrying about. it'd only been a few weeks since percy, annabeth, grover and thalia had returned from their quest to find artemis.
you practically busted your ass making your way over to find percy and the others, a comical grin on your face being met with the tired and shaken up faces of the group. thalia left with the hunters, nico was informed of the death of his sister and everyone in the camp seemed to be in grimmer spirits than before.
percy included.
he seemed..distant -- in a way. it made you wonder about what the hell happened on the quest. what he had to witness while he was out on the open road. it made your heart hurt for him. i mean, how could it not? percy was like a shell of his normal self and you hadn't a clue what it was about, especially when he started to avoid your presence around the camp.
it was the main reason you were situated outside his cabin, hesitating to knock on it as your head raced with questions. something in the back of your head told you to just go back to your own cabin and hold your tongue. a part of you wished you'd listened to it, sucking in a breath as you knocked earnestly on cabin 3's door.
you exhaled shakily,
“hey,” you started, pausing as you tried to find something to say. you and percy hadn't spoken in weeks, what could you say..? he looked back at you with wide eyes, like he hadn't expected to see you here at all. you couldn't blame him -- you didn't expect yourself to be there either.
“uh, can we talk..?”
percy shut the door behind you as you strolled sheepishly into his cabin, looking around the practically empty cabin as you stood in the middle of the room awkwardly.
percy walked over to you nervously, leaning against the frame of cabin 3's bunk bed as he turned to face you with a concerned expression. “what did you wanna talk about?” you paused, analyzing percy's worried gaze
“are you avoiding me?” you blurted out suddenly.
percy blinked a few times before his eyebrows furrowed. “..what are you talking about?”
“i mean.. i haven't seen you in so long? are you like” you cleared your throat. "do you not wanna be friends..anymore?"
“no.” you turned to him. percy's face was slightly flushed though, you couldn't pinpoint if it was because of the fact the sun was boiling today or for..another reason.
“it's not like that.” he added, rubbing the back of his neck. “i've just been..feeling weird, i guess.”
“and you didn't feel the need to tell me about it?”
he paused.
silence fell over the two of you as you began to regret ever coming to cabin 3 before percy spoke once more.
“i don't think i feel the same way i did..” he trailed off. "about..us."
your heart pounded in your ears as your eyebrows furrowed. “what you don't wanna be friends anymore?”
“are you." he sighed in frustration. “no, that's not what i meant.”
you felt slightly jittery now, it must've been your body growing tired of the still position you were in. the vagueness of percy's words were starting to cause thoughts to race in your head as well. why couldn't he just be honest? what excuse is so great that it makes up for the fact he's been ignoring you all this time?
“then,” you mumbled. “ what did you mean?”
percy sucked in a sharp breath, shifting on his leg as he crossed his arms impatiently. he looked like he was trying to psych himself up to say something. he locked eyes with you before shuffling over sheepishly and gently directing you to a sitting position on his bed.
you tapped against the frame of the bunk bed absentmindedly waiting for percy to continue.
“you're uh..” he paused again. “i don't want to just be friends.”
you shot him a confused look. “you wanna be..best friends?”
percy deadpanned. you felt slightly bad for still not getting what he was trying to say. though, what were you supposed to assume when he kept talking in riddles? percy's hand inched towards your own that rested on the bed slowly before he cleared his throat.
“i like - ”
“percy! you have to..” annabeth trailed off, observing the scene in front of her with calculated eyes. she bit back an amused grin, shaking her head slightly. “did i..walk in on something?”
“no!” percy exclaimed, moving his inching hand away from yours to rest in his lap. his face was red and his lips were folded into a thin line. “uh - we weren't doing anything.”
you eyes percy curiously before turning to annabeth. “what's going on?”
“chiron's asking for him..” her eyes shifted between the two of you. “i can tell him you're busy..”
“you don't have to,” you stood up from the bed, dusting yourself off. “i was gonna..leave anyways.” you turned to percy. “catch you later, i guess.” percy nodded his head, waving at you robotically.
you shut the door behind you, trying your best to shake off the awkward conversation.
you weren't able to decipher what percy was saying to you, nor did you even get a straight answer about why he'd be avoiding you. you squinted your eyes as the sun shun over your face.
why were people so complex?
#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson fluff#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x you#x reader#x reader fluff#mutual pining#love confessions#pjo fluff#fluff
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haikyuu boys with an s/o who's really scared of horror movies
pairings: iwaizumi x reader, oikawa x reader, tsukishima x reader, bokuto x reader
a/n: lol this is me i actually cannot with horror like at all
warnings: post-timeskip in iwaizumi's
iwaizumi hajime
iwaizumi's pretty good with horror movies
occasionally, he'll be a little caught off-guard with a sudden jumpscare, but he's pretty much fine otherwise
now YOU..
you are not ok.
you are screaming, hiding, and tearing up
he honestly doesn't really understand what's so scary about them
since i hc iwaizumi to be a realist, he'd be like
it's a movie. it was filmed. those are actors. it's so obvious none of that stuff could ever happen in real life
still, he understands that you're really scared and tries his best to comfort you
time to put those beefy athletic trainer arms to work
he lets you cling onto them for the whole movie and lets you use then as a stress ball
iwaizumi's a traditional, old school, cheesy hopeless romantic. convince me otherwise.
therefore, his method of comfort usually comes in the form of soothing words and back rubs in his arms
its actually quite nice. he lets you scream into his titties (HE HAS TITTIES AND THEYRE MORE ROCK SOLID THAN REGINA GEORGE'S MOM'S. CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.)
when you're truly scared scared (like heart pounding, sobs racking ur body, you're def gonna get rlly bad nightmares type of scared scared)
he will probs turn it off bc he thinks that no movie ending is worth this much terror
he cares about you a lot, after all. he thinks its slightly amusing when you're screaming your head off at the obviously fake blood, but he would never want you to be fearful for real
rubs your back and whispers soothing words into your ear
"its ok" "i'm right here" "don't worry, i'd protect you if they ever came" type of stuff
after you've calmed down a bit, he'll try to make you laugh
jokes, tickles, anything, really!
he hates seeing you scared. he just wants you to be happy
10/10. marry me sir.
oikawa tooru
lol
hate to break it to you but
tooru is equally as scared of horror movies
you guys have to cuddle up in blanket burritos together and scream at every jumpscare
honestly you both only make it through the movie through sheer willpower
if you're crying, he'll try to comfort you, but tbh he's pretty damn scared himself
however, once the movie is over, he's totally fine
movie forgotten. out of memories. what movie should you guys watch next?
but YOU
you're still crying
you're still really shaken up
you're def gonna have nightmares
he takes that opportunity to be the manly man he is and swoops you up bridal style
he's very charming. he looks at you in the most dazzling, heart-melting way
lol boy u were just crying too stfu
he cuddles you close, and just like iwa, whispers sweet words into your ear
however, unlike iwa, they're much more...childish? playful? how to describe them..
"it'll be ok. your big, strong, boyfriend will protect anything that tries to hurt his princess" "*dramatic gasp* YOU DON'T THINK I'M CAPABLE OF FIGHTING IT OFF BY MYSELF? HOW COULD YOU UNDERESTIMATE ME LIKE THIS? THIS.. THIS IS BETRAYAL" "they don't even look that strong. im sure i could hit a volleyball at one and it would rip into two!"
stuff like that
he would make sure to cuddle you extra close that night
overall, he's pretty fun and is good at making everything seem less serious. 8.5/10!
tsukishima kei
honestly, he's as affected by horror movies at the average guy
he doesn't find them as terrifying as oikawa, but he's definitely not as unaffected as iwaizumi
but you'd never know that
why?
he just hides his emotions really, really well
also he just sometimes focuses on the wall behind the tv and drowns out the voices
he just sits through them and bears them, basically
now, why? why in the world would he do this when he doesn't even enjoy it?
to make fun of you, duh. shouldn't that have been obvious?
when you leap 30ft out of your seat into the air, he laughs at you
he'll even add onto your fear by like grazing your opposite shoulder when you aren't looking and pretending he didn't do it
hes a brat
but honestly, he partially enjoys it when you spring onto him at the jump scares, no matter how much he denies it
as we all know, the boys a lil shy about asking for affection
with horror movies, he gets your affection without even asking for it! yay!
but once the movies over, if you're really shaken up, he'll use his giant beanpole arms and spoon you until you fall asleep
but then he'll be an ass about it the following week
pokes, grabs, jabs you and will say,
"huh? it wasn't me. maybe it was the (wtv villain or ghost or spirit or wtv from the movie)!"
2/10. makes fun of you and makes the movie even scarier tbh. the 2 points r only bc of the comfort he gives after its over.
bokuto koutaro
like most things in life, bokuto goes between two extremes, and never crosses into the middle
he's either having super insane cut shots that go BOOM
OR he's doing awful and is in his emo mode
same thing with this
he either isn't affected by it at all and just laughs
or he screams when the character breathes a lil too heavily
now, if he thinks the movie's not scary at all, he's pretty good to watch with if you're super scared
during the scary parts, he lets you cling onto his beefy arm while he just watches the movie in amusement
like there's a really scary scene where there's a huge jumpscare into the most climatic scene in the movie and you're burying your face into his arm but in the background you just hear:
"HAHAHAHAHA! Y/N Y/N! YOU GOTTA SEE THIS! HE'S...HE'S GETTING CHASED BY THIS GREY LITTLE CHILD! HAHAHAHA ITHIHIHIT'S EYES LOOK LIKE TAPIOCAAHAHAAHA"
"oh the grey little child is smiling! it's kinda cute! why is the main character guy sweating? he looks like me right after a long game"
"why'd the grey little child pull a purple thing out of his throat? what's that? i wonder what it tastes like though..i think it would be a thick gummy texture, but maybe a little gooey on the inside. definitely grape-flavored. the really sweet artificial good one. oh.. now i want a gummy!"
yeah
he definitely makes it less scary because he makes all the scary stuff seem really stupid
honestly pretty nice. you might not get as many nightmares because of him
now
when he's terrified, he's more terrified than you
*main character sneezes* "AHHHHHHH"
think oikawa x 800
mhm
honestly, you kind of have to take the comfort role even though you're deathly afraid of horror movies
"kou, he's just walking. its ok."
honestly he makes it seem less scary like this too because it forces you to see why the movie isn't actually that scary because you have to find out the reasons to comfort him
8.7/10. a sweetie
#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi x you#iwaizumi comfort#iwaizumi hajime x reader#iwaizumi fluff#iwaizumi#haikyuu iwaizumi#iwaizumi drabble#iwaizumi x y/n#iwaizumi hcs#iwaizumi drabbles#iwaizumi scenarios#oikawa x reader#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa toru x reader#oikawa comfort#oikawa drabbles#oikawa drabble#oikawa tooru#oikawa headcanons#oikawa fluff#haikyuu oikawa#oikawa x y/n#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima x you#tsukishima comfort#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima fluff#tsukishima#haikyuu tsukishima
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soft terror
zoro x gn!reader (no pronouns used), zoro's pov
in which zoro attempts to identify what he feels for you. (he's not entirely successful.)
warnings: none, just fluff (please lmk if there are any i should add!)
word count: 2.3k
part 2
honestly, zoro is scared of you.
terrified.
it's a strange, unknown feeling to him. in fact, it isn’t until many long months after you’ve joined the crew that he even recognizes the emotion.
no, he had felt no apprehension at all when he first saw you. you were being held prisoner on a pirate ship, one that had engaged the merry in battle in hopes of cashing in on the straw hats' massive bounties. in the midst of the gunpowder plumes and flying splinters he had seen you, cowering on the enemy deck with your wrists cuffed in front of you, trembling but eyes bright and determined. he couldn’t keep his own eyes off you, distracted as they tracked your path to what he assumed was the edge of the enemy ship. what were you trying to do?
zoro swung absentmindedly at a rope that was thrown over the rail of the going merry, realizing the strength behind his swing too late. all he could do was tear his eyes away from you and watch as the force of his blade traveled across the water before slicing the enemy ship clean in half.
a silence fell over the scene, everyone seemingly frozen on both sides as the two halves of the ship began to slowly tilt inwards on each other, before--
“whoo! nice one, zoro!” luffy cried out, arms thrown up in the air. his yell was immediately followed by the panicked sounds of the enemy pirates as they began to scramble in hopes of survival, the straw hats entirely forgotten.
usopp crawled out of his hiding spot, cheering as he made his way to the merry’s railing to watch the enemy ship’s slow descent into the murky water. “perfect! exactly as i planned!”
he glanced nervously over at zoro to see if the swordsman would call out his lie, but zoro’s attention was back on you. were you-- were you going to jump? what were you thinking? still, he couldn’t help but admire your tenacity. you really weren’t going to give up, willing to even brave the ocean with your hands bound to escape.
“luffy!” he called out, pointing you out in the chaos.
luffy, hearing the urgency in zoro’s voice, looked in the direction he was pointing at and quickly found you, understanding what zoro was requesting of him almost immediately. he reached forward, gummy arms stretching far before wrapping themselves around your waist and retracting with the same speed.
you stumbled as you both lost and found the ground from under your feet in a matter of seconds. it didn't take you long to find your footing, however, and you quickly produced a roughly carved wooden stake from the folds of your tattered clothes. you held it defensively in front of you, eyes darting wildly between the straw hats as you tried to gauge the situation. "what- what the hell?" you breathed out, eyes wide with panic.
at your words, zoro sheathed his swords and held his hands out in front of him reassuringly (he knew he'd be able to handle you and the stick you clutched desperately, even unarmed-- despite your apparent confidence in your makeshift weapon, he could tell it wouldn't withstand a single hit, and you yourself were at least a good foot shorter than him). he cleared his throat before speaking, still a few feet away from you. "i'm not going to hurt you. none of us are. are you okay?"
unexpectedly, zoro found himself trusting you-- at least, trusting you to not be a threat to the crew. you couldn't be, he tried to justify to himself. you were too shaken, too frail, too exhausted to have been faking it. the terror in your eyes as they darted between his crewmates was too real for him to even consider suspecting you.
(looking back, zoro definitely thinks his decision had been unwise. he had been correct, of course: you would never do anything that would put the crew in danger. that isn’t the problem.
the problem is that he had believed you way too quickly.
but he also knows he doesn't regret it, because it had been you.)
it had taken a good fifteen minutes for the crew to calm you down and convince you that they weren't planning on killing you or taking you prisoner. zoro still remembers the relief flooding your eyes, your shoulders sagging for what seemed like the first time in months, the gratitude cluttering your mouth and spilling out all at once in a jumble. your flimsy weapon slipped from your fingers and laid indistinguishably amongst the debris from the fight. luffy stepped towards you, his friendly demeanor disarming your alarm as he easily broke off the wooden cuffs around your wrists. tears of exhaustion dropped from your eyes as you collapsed on the merry's deck, still conscious but too overwhelmed to keep standing or even properly cry. but the joy on your face was unforgettable.
(he doesn't want to admit it to himself, but he remembers every face you've made from then till now. he remembers it all. he can't help but to.)
he had let luffy take over introducing the crew to you, instead choosing to hang back against the wall of the kitchen and watch you. you were still slightly guarded, not entirely believing you were truly safe but not having any fight left in you to question it at the moment.
when your lips finally curved into a small, cautious smile, zoro had felt a strange sort of satisfaction deep within him. as if an itch that started when he first saw you had finally been scratched. and then-- and then you turned to glance back at zoro. his breath caught as his eyes met yours. yours were hopeful, searching, as if looking for confirmation that this was all really happening, that this wasn't too good to be true. he remembers being taken aback, surprised that you had looked at him of all people, but he hadn't shown it. instead, he'd just nodded once, and that'd seemed to be enough for you-- your smile had grown and your shoulders had relaxed by another inch.
that was the first time he had felt the strange feeling stirring within him. he hadn't known what it was, and that meant he didn't like it.
it had surfaced a few more times as you slowly but surely began to integrate yourself into the crew. at first, the plan had been to drop you off at the next town they found along their way, but that was quickly forgotten. you fit in well with the crew, like a puzzle piece they hadn't realized they'd been missing. it took a bit, but soon you opened up and were laughing as loud as luffy, usopp, and chopper during meal times. your love for reading helped you bond with robin and nami, and of course the damn cook was infatuated with you, what with how nice you looked.
you looked so nice, in fact, that zoro found his eyes glued to you whenever you were around.
which, unexpectedly, had seemed to be increasingly often in the weeks that followed. he had begun to notice you hanging out in his vicinity whenever he'd been taking a nap. same with when he'd been training.
at first, he tried to ignore you. tried to pretend like everything was normal and that your presence didn't make him feel strange things he'd never felt before. but it was hard to do. you were like a magnet; he was unavoidably drawn to you.
(you still are; he still is.)
when he couldn't take it anymore, when tamping down his nerves with strong doses of denial stopped working, he finally asked you, "what're you sitting here for?"
you smiled and he felt the familiar pit begin to form in his stomach. "where else would i sit?"
he jerked his head to the side, indicating with his eyes. "with everyone else."
your eyes followed his to the kitchen, from where the sound of some of the others laughing drifted out from behind the closed door. your smile didn't waver as you responded, "but being with you is... peaceful." your eyes found his again and your smile widened. he felt the pit grow, his heart thrumming loudly in his ears-- was he dying? "calming,” you continued. “i'd rather stay out here with you, if that's okay."
he barely managed a nod before turning back to continue his workout, desperately trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck and hoping you had, too.
it was that night as he lay in his hammock staring at the ceiling that he finally recognized the strange feeling that overtook him every time you were near.
fear.
you are terrifying to zoro.
now that it’s occurred to him, he is sure of it. of course it’s fear. it explains the way he's always aware of you when you’re near, the way his pulse seems to quicken when you draw close to him, the way your eyes on his seem to freeze him in place. and of course he didn't recognize it at first. he’s roronoa zoro-- he didn't feel fear.
at least, not normally.
(somehow, you are always the exception to all his rules.)
it's not that he thinks you could hurt him or the crew that makes you scary-- he knows you wouldn't, even if you could.
he thinks it's your smile, wide and unabashed-- or maybe it's your laugh, so bright and sunny and full of joy. it could also be your eyes, with their tendency to display your thoughts to him in high resolution, vibrant as a flower field in bloom and just as alive.
no, that's not true. he knows what it is-- it's you. all of you. your hands that seem to be so gentle when helping chopper tend to the crew's wounds, but also so determined as they clutched your weapon of choice in battle. your legs, the way they always tucked underneath you so neatly as you folded yourself into odd positions whenever you took a seat. your lips, that he could not help but dream of, to long to touch.
you are so soft.
you are the complete opposite of him, he who had been forged in combat. he who only knows of sharp edges and swift force. he, who is so afraid of what will happen if he ever dares to allow himself to grow accustomed to your touch.
because it is so tempting.
he remembers the first time he touched you like it happened yesterday. it was so innocent, so inconspicuous and not even really anything worth remembering, but he did. of course he did.
he had just taken his seat at the merry's dining table when you passed him his plate of riceballs that sanji prepared for him. his fingers brushed against yours as he took the plate from you-- and that was it. see, nothing, just a whisper of a touch-- and yet, to him, everything.
your fingers had been so warm. he couldn't stop wondering how your entire hand might feel, held in his, and he later dreamt of it when he took a nap on deck in the warm early evening sun-- the sun that always reminded him of you.
he felt so pathetic, so torn apart and undone at just that slight brush.
the second time you touched him had been considerably more significant. it had been just after a fierce showdown with a family of sea kings; your exhaustion after taking down one entirely on your own had you stumbling as you walked back to the sleeping quarters. luckily, he was right behind you, also hoping to get some more rest after the spontaneous morning exercise, and caught you in his arms before your knees hit the ground when you suddenly collapsed.
your eyes widened slightly in surprise before you looked up at him with a sheepish smile, cheeks pink. "thanks. guess i was more tired than i thought."
he wasn’t able to fall asleep once you both made it back to your own respective hammocks a few minutes later. instead, he listened to the faint sound of your breathing as it evened out and slowed down. the soft breaths barely reaching his ears were meditative, trance inducing, and before he knew it you were stirring and stretching, urging the sleep to leave your bones after having resided there for a few hours. he remained still, pretending to be asleep as you quietly slipped away so not to disturb him. it wasn't until your footsteps faded away that he was finally able to sleep, no longer electrified by your presence.
(he dreamt of you, of course.)
after that, though, zoro lost count.
it had been as if him catching you that day had broken a spell-- suddenly, he found himself encountering your casual touches almost daily. you seem more at ease around him, slightly leaning against him when sitting next to him on a bench or playfully poking him when talking to him. and all zoro can do is gather these memories like precious stones and hoard them away in his heart.
but he never reciprocates. he can't. because what if he gets used to you? your soft touches and smiles and laughs and eyes and god, what is he supposed to do if he can't imagine life without you?
he knows.
he knows that you're dangerous-- tempting.
he can see it so clearly, a life by your side, sharing every moment with you. he wants it, he dreams of it, he aches for it with all his heart, but he fears it all the same.
because he already has a dream.
(is he allowed to have two dreams, or is that being too greedy?)
it’s only at night, when he's keeping watch over the merry and staring across the endless silence of the black-blue sea, that he allows himself to question what he feels for you.
he wonders if maybe he loves you instead.
#zoro x you#zoro roronoa x reader#zoro roronoa x you#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x you#roronoa zoro#zoro#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece x you#zoro fluff#zoro fanfiction#my writing#youremyonepiece#ahhhh so happy to finally be posting again#it's been 8 years since i've been active on tumblr omg#and ofc my first post back is zoro 😌
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i love the imagine u wrote where zhongli would give us up for the world 🥹🥹 and it got me thinking:
what if the reader gets incarnated to the current timeline we have and meets zhongli again? they don’t have the past memories but somehow zhongli feels familiar for them. Z thinks this era is the right time for him to take back the past and do things right so he spends time w them but he somehow finds out that reader has a lover (maybe another playable character). Z begins to asks questions abt their lover and idk how their convo would play out but I just imagine where reader gets a question where they answer with “i would give up the world for them (their lover)” and zhong is just hit with past memories and regrets wishing how he could have done things differently idk i j imagine it rly angsty 😭😭
Sorry to disturb but this has been on my mind i cant stop thinking abt it and i wanted to share 😭😭 Anyways, i look forward to more of ur works!! keep up the good work ur doing great 🥺🫶
: following zhongli (world > you)
Imagine how had Mor- Zhongli tried to get close to you, you who obviously was rather uncomfortable with his presence. And the only key to it was the traveller, the same old traveller that had help Liyue and Monstand and is now away on their venture in Inazuma. That being said, nowadays he had been keeping you company.
"You've been off since the departure of the Traveller." Zhongli spoke as he stand right beside you in the harbor.
"Really? I didn't notice." You have him a small smile.
"But I guess you're right, I've been missing the traveller so bad nowadays." You chuckle.
Imagine, at that very moment, Zhongli hoped he didn't not see you. Not when you're looking like that. Not when you're looking so soft, so lovely, obviously longing for someone, someone who definitely wasn't him.
Imagine the way his heart dropped to his stomach. The way his hand clenched around nothing before realising it. And after a few moments of silence.
"Do you.. Perhaps have feelings for the traveller?"
Imagine the way his voice shaken, obviously did go unnoticed by you. The way his amber iris were shaking, hoping and trying to deny reality as best as he can. He had hope for a chance. He knew this time, nothing can go wrong with the two of you. So he approached you, he tried to get close to you, he really did. But perhaps it was already too late, or was it? Did he even had a chance in this new persona he now possess?
"Honestly, I'm not sure myself." You chuckle.
"Or so I thought before the traveller left. Did you know? The traveller confessed to me, but Traveller also told me that they had so many things going on at the moment so.." As you look beyond the sea, you smile genuinely.
"I was wondering that in the world was the Traveller even thinking confessing and leaving me just like that, but now that I think about it. Its wasn't so bad."
Imagine the way you smile, the way your brush back your hair, trying to fix it upon the harsh breeze that have been messing with your hair earlier.
"If the world wants me dead, if the world see me as a threat, what would you do?"
"Huh?"
"What was the question that suddenly came into mind as soon as te Traveller confessed."
"What was the Traveller reply?"
Imagine the way you laugh, the way you smile genuinely as you recall the answer of that silly, adventurous, kind Traveller reply.
Imagine the way Zhongli kept staring at you, you who looked all refesh and happy, bright as you were before. Oh how much it hurts him he was no longer the reason why.
"How about a new world?"
"What?"
"I'll just have to take you to a new world. As you are already aware I wasn't from this world. All we have to do is to escape and find a new world where no one can take you away from me. Although my twin always somes first, I cannot afford to loose you, you know?"
"..." "(First name)? Are you o-?" "Pfff.."
"Did I say something funny?" "No.. hehe, I'm just.. I don't know." Was it relief that you felt?
Imagine the way you let out a sigh. Thinking about the Traveller only makes you miss them more. Perhaps you should have given the Traveller a reply back then but both of you agreed to put more thought into it and give them a reply upon coming back.
"Escape." It was just one word.
"I see." Zhongli replied, this time he looked away from you.
"If you don't mind me asking." "What is it?"
"If it's for the sake of the world, would you be willing to kill them?"
Imagine the way you once again let out a sigh, as you went quite only for a few moments, you face him and tug his sleeve.
"If that person meant the world for you, isn't that enough reason to be selfish?" You chuckle.
"Isn't a world without your beloved would only felt like a living hell?" You added as you never once look away from him.
"It goes on without saying that it's them over the world. That's how much they matter to me, that's how much I love them."
Imagine the way Zhongli chuckle and the way his lips form a bitter smile afterwards nevertheless, he agreed to you and eventually excuse himself. Leaving you all alone in the harbor, all waiting for the Traveller and not him. But it's alright, one way or another, he deserves this.
Imagine as Zhongli walks away from you, you stare at him and as you do so. He looks so lonely. But then you blink as a harsh breeze passes by, turning your look into the horizon, the sun was peacefully setting. How beautiful yet it left a bitter taste in your mouth in which you soon ignore.
"Escape huh."
Imagine, it's not like he did not think about it. But back then, the best choice was to kill you. But after hearing what you said, he starts to doubt if he did perhaps made a mistake, leaving regrets behind. After all, you were right. A world were he couldn't embrace you when you were right in front of him was like a living hell.
Imagine the way it was making him wonder if he was only a little bit selfish, if only he did not listen to the pleads of his people, his friends. If only he tried to find another way. If only he choses the other way. Would the two of you be happy and still together like you were back then?
He doesn't know, after all, those were the choices he didn't take. And this was the consequence he had to face.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°
: I think I strayed away from what was asked. Crap, did I do this right?
#genshin impact#dark night hero#genshin imagines#genshin#zhongli angst#zhongli x reader#genshin impact zhongli#genshin impact morax#morax#zhongli x yn#zhongli x you#zhongli#aether x reader#lumine x reader#genshin x y/n#genshin angst#genshin impact angst#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you
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I can't help but wonder about your One Piece OC! I know you've mentioned that he's a mature person in the crew, but do you see him as more of a sibling/parental role to Luffy, or is he part of the shenanigans with usopp/chopper/luffy, or is he like tired uncle like Jinbei (or secretly amused like zoro) ? I am eager to hear about where he meshes in with crew especially luffy
I also can't help but wonder if our first mate gets jealous of him often. You mentioned that you do, but I think about like what if some days luffy just misses Ace, and luff will stare at Jean a lot more sometimes or just hover around him just to relive being with his brother *cries*
✨Kira kira yoho!✨
Hello!
Ahhh!! Im so happy and excited every time I get question about my OCs (❤´艸｀❤) Thank you for taking interest and being curious about Jean!
To answer. He is more of big brother type. Not just to Luffy but to everyone. Even the older mature straw hats. Jean just have so much love to give, growing up not knowing much about the world, isolated and thinking himself to be a slave until death. It really is Luffy and the strawhats who saved him and his fellow slaves so, he's enthusiastic in showing them how much he cares for them. how thankful he is to them for saving him, and along with that, his life. So he spoils everyone like this cool doting brother.
I'm actually planning to make one paged comic series ( kind of like 4 koma? ) in his interactions with the strawhats. As well as discovering more of the world.
little sneak peek with Sanji ( ignore the cross. i changed that to a locket )
Here, Jean becomes the big brother Sanji dreamed and should have had. At first it annoys Sanji to no end even saying stuff like " gross, dont touch me. its weird! " but Jean is so gentle towards the crew, even helping Sanji wash the dishes, even cleaning the kitchen at night to surprise Sanji that eventually, Sanji accepts Jean. And finally allows himself to be spoiled. Even bringing out that side of Sanji that longs for a caring brother. One he only dreamed back then.
Jean has that ability to let everyone's hidden side of wanting to be spoiled and Jean is all to happy to do so. He is just so happy to be there with everyone. That he never really asks for anything in return.
--------------
As for Zoro being made Jealous by Jean. Yes he does that. but there is a moment only the three of them knows. Its when Luffy gets nightmares about Ace every now and then. most of the time he can deal with it, but there are times he's so shaken. When Jean wasn't around yet, it's Zoro trying to calm him down. But when jean arrived, the three of them found out that, despite being freaked out by jean and Ace looking alike, Jean helps Luffy calm down due to his voice being exactly like Ace's. Along with it, Jean's hugs is just one of the best. Even beating hugs from Jinbei. There's a strange therapeutic effect.
Here is a comic I doodled quickly just now to show that.
I still wanted to emphasize the eerie feeling from Jean and Ace's similarities are so the comic ended up a bit off. (laughs) please forgive me!
Every time this happens, Luffy does apologize to Jean for asking him to 'talk' like Ace. He knows it's wrong, but honestly, Jean would do anything to calm Luffy. and He knows Luffy doesn't mean it and that he's just suffering, So Jean is very patient with him and never really feels offended at all.
And that is all the answers I have!
Thank you for being interested in Jean!! 💖💖
✨Have a sparkling day!✨
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Any lestappen fic rec to share ? 😣 Any favourite author on ao3! I need some!
Hi anon 😘 Of course! In fact I've actually been working on a personal fic rec, so I'm glad I get to share it with you!
Here you go, hope you enjoy <3
Lestappen fic rec
Short-ish fics 🩵
control systems a College AU by @itsgoingdutchin2021 | 1.2 k
Summary:
Due to an unfortunate encounter in their freshman year, both Charles and Max hate each other. Then they are assigned a group project.
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
<3
your hands are cold a High School AU by dhufflebee | 3.9 k
Summary:
“I feel like this event should really be called ‘Frosty Fusion’ or something like that.”“That is, of course, incredibly stupid.”“Hey!”“It doesn’t mean that ‘Snowmen Competition’ isn’t the most boring name ever, though.”OR: long-time friends and rivals Charles and Max hail from neighboring schools, and brave the biting cold, the challenges of snow sculpture, and their own buried feelings
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
<3
Kiss It Goodbye (Your Little Panic Attack) F1 Fic by @celientjeee | 5.1 k
Summary:
‘What- How did you do that?’ Charles asked, he still felt a bit shaken and hot, but the tingling had disappeared.Max smiled at him and let his hands drop away from Charles’ cheeks.‘I once read that holding your breath could stop a panic attack and when I kissed you, you held your breath.’‘I did?’ Charles winced at how high his voice sounded. OR: Charles gets a panic attack and Max helps him (more than once)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
<3
Fics between 10 k and 20 k 🧡
Cheating at Bingo and Other Christmas Traditions a Cozy Winter AU by @wanderingblindly | 12.4 k
Summary:
"You know, there’s a very nice, very handsome young man in my neighborhood –” She starts back up, flagging down their waiter for another glass of wine.“Absolutely not,” He cuts her off with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Next topic.”“So you’re too good for him, is that it?” She sounds defensive, but her tone still has a mocking edge to it – emphasized by the quirk of her brows.Hardly holding back a groan, Charles tries to think of a way out of this. She’s like a cat, batting at him until he gives up, rolls over, and plays dead. “That’s not – I’m just busy, and it’s –” OR: Hallmark style fluff featuring an irritated Charles, a well-meaning Max, and the grandma that just wants them to kiss
Rating: General Audiences
<3
Golden Hour a Uni AU by Chariots4 | 13.2 k
Summary:
Max is a great roommate. So great that when Lando asks him to be part of a music video he’s filming he does so, without asking what it will be about.Turns out he will have to model with no other than Charles Leclerc. As lovers. The two men’s desire to not be outdone by the other takes the whole thing to new levels.
Rating: Explicit
-> This is also a personal favorite of mine since it was my first ever Formula 1 RPF fic and honestly, it's written amazingly well!👌
<3
oui chef a Chef AU by @sunshineyoujustwait | 16.2 k
Summary:
There’s someone standing in his kitchen.He looks young, maybe close to Max’s age, with messy dark brown hair that’s pulled back from his face by a red bandana, and he’s leaning against the kitchen counter like he’s supposed to be here.Max’s first rather unhelpful thought is; fuck, he’s gorgeous. His second, more reasonable thought is;“Who the fuck are you?”“Charles Leclerc,” the man smiles. It's a little bit dazzling and Max is not at all distracted by it. He extends his hand for Max to shake. “I’m your new executive sous chef.” OR: Max is very happy with his life, thank you very much. He has his restaurant, his team, and two Michelin stars at the age of 24. He definitely does not need some pretentious Monegasque chef coming in and throwing everything into chaos.Except, maybe he does.
Rating: General Audiences
<3
you got me a College AU by @fueledbyremembering | 16.6 k
Summary:
When Max looks up he stares into pretty green eyes behind black rimmed glasses. His hand is still blindly feeling around to find the books—his brain lagging—as he stares at the guy from last night. He straightens up and Max follows, staring dumbly as he holds out the books for Max to take.“Thanks,” Max says, feeling like an idiot as he takes the books, their fingers brushing for a split second. This was not how he wanted to meet again. “Again, I’m so sorry.”The guy smiles and Max thinks he might just die a little when he notices he has dimples. Of course he has dimples. OR: Max falls head over heels for the cute guy at a college party and he can't stop thinking about him (aka the lestappen college au nobody needs).
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
<3
Fics above 30 k ❤
Late night devil put your hands on me a Thief/Detective AU by @f1-giuki | 42.1 k
Summary:
"Do you want to know what is more incredible?" Max asks, staring at Charles' full and round pecs without any shame. "What?" Charles asks, enjoying how Max's cheeks get redder and redder as he licks clean the fork. "Stealing the Nine Pieces of Eight, with me," Max says and Charles drops his fork in the plate. "The Nine pieces of eight? Isn't that like a legend? The owner of those artworks is unknown…" The Monegasque asks, furrowing his brows. Max grins and rolls his eyes. "I know a guy..." Max says, pulling Charles close by the elastic band of his boxers. OR: World-class thief Max Verstappen asks Interpol Detective Charles Leclerc out on a date (to put on the world's most complicated heist ever conceived) but things never go as planned.
Rating: Mature
<3
To Your Heart’s Content a Mafia AU by @cornerofacry | 119.4 k
Summary:
Max pinched the bridge of his nose as he went into the car. Before his chauffeur could close the door, however, Daniel leant in, having rushed from the bar’s entrance."I forgot to tell you…" the Australian begun, his face serious and grave.Max gritted his teeth, silently nodding for the man to continue. He couldn’t stand much more. He wanted to scream at the entire world. To run home and hide and force some sense down his own throat.To put himself back together."I left a- a gift at your house. For your birthday… I planned it long ago, before-""Alright," Max cut him, short and harsh. OR: Charles, a high end prostitute, finds himself in the arms of a man who really, really, cares for him, despite the gun on his nightstand.
Rating: Explicit
<3
Favorite lestappen authors 💕
NovaCloud, Richardmarie75, WanderingBlindly, xxcelientje, amarynas, charlescoded, LestappenForever, linearity
Note to the authors: If your fic is on here and you would like me to take it down I will. Feel free to just dm me about it or drop and ask 😌
And anon I hope you find something you like on this list!
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Nothing to Gain - Azul
Author Notes: I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this fic. Part of me really likes and another part of me.... Either way, I decided I might as well post it since I really didn't know what I wanted to post for this week. This fic was written while I listened to "Whataya Want From Me" by Adam Lambert which definitely affected the overall tone of this fic. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!
Type: Gender-netural reader/ fluff/ some angst/ pining/ romance/ mentions of Octavinelle and Scarabia overblot so spoilers for those chapters
Word Count: 1820
There was something frightening about relying on others. It was something that Azul had noticed before and was the reason he preferred to surround himself with only the most reliable individuals.
He could rely on them, and they could rely on him.
But his overblot had shaken him to his core. He’d questioned even his most basic beliefs about himself, and, to be honest, he still wasn’t entirely sure what to think of the events of that day.
However, neither Jade nor Floyd had changed their opinions of him or abandoned him after that day, as he’d feared they would. Instead, they remained by his side, as they always did. But there was a benefit to being there. Even after his overblot, Azul was still housewarden and had a say in how the Octavinelle dorm was run.
There might be some cost, but the benefit was great enough that the twins stayed, and Azul was comfortable with that. He understood it.
What he didn’t understand was you.
You stood nothing to gain by being kind to him and supporting him. If you were a normal person, you would either attempt to blackmail him or avoid him. Only allowing enough interaction to show how much you detested him for what he’d put you through.
But you apparently weren’t a normal person. Because you stayed by him and helped him through the aftermath of the overblot.
Soothing the fleeing students whom he’d robbed of their spells and talents. Assuring them that all was well and such a thing wouldn’t occur again. Reminding them what a good, competent housewarden he was.
It hadn’t been easy, and it had taken you, Jade, Floyd, and Azul all working together to cover up everything that had happened and finally put his overblot to rest. And the entire time you were there, it made him nervous.
But at least after it was done, you would leave. That only made sense. There was no reason for you to stay past that point.
Azul had surmised that you must just be one of those people who liked to see their work done. Sort of like Jack, who’d been with you since the very start, even though he quite obviously had a distaste for both Azul and the tweels.
And, as expected, Jack left as soon as everything was settled. He had no further business with Octavinelle, and all was well on that front. But you didn’t leave.
Rather, you kept appearing in the very fringes of Azul’s vision. Smiling and offering a wave that was always returned by at least one of the tweels, as Azul found himself faltering.
Why were you still here? There was nothing to gain.
By the time winter break had come, he’d come up with a new plan and explanation for your strange behavior. You were always around because you wanted remuneration for your services. That made sense.
Having the tweels offer you a place to stay over winter break with an ever-benevolent warning about the fee was easy enough. An offer for your payment that wasn’t grounded in worry for the fact you were staying in the most run-down building on campus, no matter what Floyd said.
But you hadn’t accepted, and Azul was lost once more. You’d turned the offer down with a fond smile, joking that you didn’t want a bill like the one his offer would mean hanging over your head.
But that was that. Azul was sure he wouldn’t hear anything from you, at least until the next school year had begun. And by then, he would surely have figured out what it was that you wanted.
But he did hear from you. You’d quite literally crashed into the Mostro Lounge, landing in a heap on the ground. Covered in sand and trembling in fear as you’d looked up at the horde of angry Scarabia students that had come to collect you.
And Azul repaid you right then and there. He’d shielded you from those who’d sought you out and handled that matter promptly.
It wasn’t as if there had been no reward for his actions after all. He’d assured himself that this was all just to get information on how, exactly, you’d managed to upset the students of Scarabia.
And that had led to another debacle, not entirely unlike what had happened to him. Jamil’s overblot.
Despite what Jade and Floyd may have teasingly suggested, Azul knew he’d only assisted you to give himself an in to winning over Jamil. And as for you spending the night safely in Octavinelle under his and the tweels protection for free one night…. That was just another part of his plan. Nothing odd at all.
By the end of the winter break, he’d repaid you, now had a perfectly good excuse to seek Jamil out for conversation, and everything was as it should be.
Or rather, it should have been.
Some part of Azul had seemed to grow cold when he’d seen you run into Ace and Deuce’s arms just after the Scarabia overblot, though. Perfectly happy to leave him behind in favor of your two friends.
And now Azul was having to question himself. Why did that upset him? He’d wanted you gone and handled because there had been no reason for you to be around him. Your lingering had made no sense, and his moroseness was equally ridiculous.
…. Right?
Azul wasn’t expecting much as the next term started. He was fully prepared to go back to the way things were. With you hardly ever noticing his presence, while he would do his very best to ignore yours.
But he didn’t have to ignore you. Because as soon as he saw you in the hallway, you were turning to look his way. A smile on your face and a hand raised in cheerful greeting.
And suddenly Azul was frightened. What did you want? Why did you seem so happy to see him when you had your friends right by your side?
There was no benefit to staying near him, and you had seen him at his weakest, lowest, and most vile. So shouldn’t you want to have nothing to do with him?
He’d overblotted and attacked not only you but your friends. There was no reason to look so happy in this instance.
In his confusion, Azul found himself walking towards you quickly. Stopping as you looked at him with a slightly startled expression.
“Angelfish, if we might talk,” He started before glancing at both of the young men who flanked you with confused expressions that matched yours, save the wariness in their eyes.
“Alone,” He finished a little more firmly than he’d intended, but if you noticed, you didn’t react.
Instead, you just nodded, a slightly uncertain smile appearing on your face as you responded, “Okay.”
You waved off your two obviously concerned friends and followed Azul without a single concern. Only confusion.
Like you really did trust him. Like you really weren’t concerned in the slightest by his reputation or the things you knew that he did.
As if his past actions didn’t bother you and you weren’t the slightest bit upset by how he’d attempted to shoo you away with paltry offerings.
And it frightened Azul. He didn’t know what you wanted, and he didn’t know what he wanted.
It was only once he was sure it was only the two of you that he turned to face you once more. Dropping any facade he had of confidence the very moment his eyes met yours.
“What do you want from me?” His voice quivered slightly, but he stood firm as you looked at him with utter confusion.
But then, as if you saw something in the depths of his pale blue eyes, your expression shifted to one of concern for him, and you stepped closer. Your voice dropping to a whisper that was perfectly filled with loving worry and that only made Azul feel more lost than he had before, “Azul? What do you mean?”
Azul had lived the entire first part of his life in the very deepest part of the ocean, but he knew that in this moment he was well beyond his depth.
Because suddenly all Azul could really think was that he didn’t want to let you down. Not when, as your simplistic question had just evidenced, you’d never been with him for any ulterior motive.
No, you stayed for a reason that Azul himself was only just now beginning to understand. You stayed because you cared for Azul, and that was enough.
And, looking back, Azul knew all those things he’d done in the past…. Offering you a room in Octavinelle for a fee only to waive that fee the very moment you’d appeared in front of him, frightened and covered in sand…. All of that had been him not wanting you to come to harm.
Because even after seeing him at his most shameful, you hadn’t judged him as weak, untalented, or anything less. Instead, you looked at him like he had just as much worth as anyone else here.
And you genuinely cared for him. In your own way, you’d been supporting him ever since then, as he leaned on you without even realizing it.
Knowing all of that now, it felt wrong to ask you what you wanted. Because was it really you that wanted something, or was it him?
You continued to look at him, worriedly searching his eyes for an answer as one of your hands reached up to cup his cheek, “Azul?”
Your voice was so soft, and it nearly broke him as he realized exactly how wonderful you were and how it didn’t make any sense for you to be here with him when he was so perfectly broken.
But he inhaled, a smile working its way onto his face as he let his hand cover your own, “I’m sorry, Angelfish. I… Just don’t give up on me yet.”
Your eyes widened as his hand wrapped around yours and pulled it from his face before squeezing it lightly, “I’m having to work all of this out and…”
He trailed off, faltering as he searched for words, but you only smiled. Shaking your head slightly before you responded, “No, I understand. You need time, and what happened to you… It messed you up.”
Azul nodded, half-touched that you could still be so understanding despite the confusing circumstances he’d put you in, and half-disappointed in himself.
Because he could only hope that you would keep appearing in peripheral vision and helping him get through the difficult days.
And he would do his best. He was slowly coming to understand what it was to care for someone without a cost-benefit relationship. And even if he didn’t know exactly what he wanted from you, he would with time, and he would repay you tenfold for everything you’d given him.
#Twisted wonderland imagines#briarvalleyarchives#Azul x reader#azul ashengrotto#Twisted wonderland#Twisted wonderland x reader#gender neutral reader#potential spoilers for octavinelle and scarabia#Octavinelle#mentions of overblots#Azul x you#Azul x y/n#twst#Twisted wonderland x y/n#Twisted wonderland x you#fluff#romance#pining#some angst#mywritings#it-happened-one-fic#twst x reader#twst x you#twst x y/n#Disney TW#Disney fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#fic
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Can you do a Neymar fic where he calls her clingy behind her back and she overhears and changes
i'm done doing the "pairing, summary, cw" thing cause it's kinda obvious by the req! also i changed this into more of an argument LOL.
angst!! insecurity. mentions of past relationships were reader was cheated on.
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you and neymar had always been open about what you want out of your relationship, how you feel about certain things- etcetera.
you gave him your all- always making sure his jerseys were ready for whatever game he had next, making sure he had food to eat after practice, and letting your hearts beat together at night- him holding you close.
during practice season him, messi, and kylian would all carpool and switch off, this time in particular messi and kylian decided it best that they would come over after practice and play some fifa on the couch.
when neymar came in- you welcomed his friends and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
you were working on something on your laptop so you went straight back to the room and continued working on it.
after about half an hour you needed to use the bathroom which was directly across the hall from the living room, you sat your laptop on the bed and quietly made your way to the bathroom so as to not disrupt the guys.
once you'd done your business, you washed your hands and dried them.
"antonella wasn't able to be home last night so i woke up so late." you heard lionel's voice echo through the living room.
"i couldn't imagine having to go home to someone every single night and not be able to drop onto the bed and just fall asleep- i feel bad for you guys."
at this. neymar laughed loudly, "honestly, it becomes a lot- having to talk to them 24-7- especially y/n she's a little-"
"clingy?" lionel questioned. curious to where this was going.
you could've sworn your heart dropped- time seemed to slow down as you waited for his answer.
"extremely. she's just-" he also laughed and sighed at the same time. "not simple."
your heart dropped even further, your eyes brimming with tears. were you honestly that clingy? were you mistaking being caring with being a burden? were you really that bad? so bad that he had to talk about you like this while you were still in the house.
your ears were ringing, how many times had he spoken down on you like this without you knowing? so many questions and regrets.
your hand was still on the doorknob, if you left now he would know that you'd overheard and it would result in an awkward and insincere apology from him. but you couldn't just hideout in the bathroom.
you'd decided to leave the bathroom, trying to slip by as you did before- it went unnoticed by everyone in the room that you rushed past with your head down.
neymar was laughing for practically the rest of his friends visit before they'd decided to call it a night and head home.
you on the other hand were sat on the bed- laptop closed. your thoughts focused on only one thing.
the pressure in your throat builds as tears still stung at your eyes. every single betrayal came back crawling onto your shaken skin- every disloyal relationship, every time you'd been cheated on, thought of as lesser than, everytime you wanted to crawl out of your own skin, the skin that neymar had worshipped.
"she's just not simple."
you squeezed your eyes shut, you'd gotten too comfortable. you were torn back to those times where you were struck with someone elses dishonesty- poisoned by their greed. where those that you loved were too blind to see that your kindness was their stability. undermined, unworthy, and manipulated.
maybe you'd blown it out of proportion, he laughed when he said it- he must've not meant it. wether he was saying it to make his friends laugh or not- it had no other outcome than tears running down your cheeks, desperately trying to pull yourself together.
you looked at yourself in the mirror- you felt so stupid, so small, so insignificant like the life had been torn from you. didn't this go to show that you'd been to clingy? that you cared too much?
you heard his friends leave. you really had to get your shit together now.
you wiped your tears and walked to your armoire, folding the stray t-shirts that were spread over the inside.
in walked a straight faced neymar, who came up behind you to press a kiss to your cheek.
he grabbed a few of the shirts in the folding pile, trying to lessen the task for you- but in all honesty, what does he care? "i've got it, " you spoke without looking up at him.
he persisted, continuing to fold the shirts.
you hastily grabbed the shirts from his grasp, "i said i've got it."
he was caught off guard with the sudden attitude, he genuinely couldn't think of what he'd done to make you unhappy. "what's wrong meu amor?"
"nothing, just let me fold the clothes." you looked him in his eyes for the first time tonight and wondered how someone who looked at you so softly, like you were delicate pieces of china- could say belittling things about you knowing what you had gone through.
you wanted to blame him, you wanted to not internalize it and say it's his fault and not yours for the way that you let his words change your outlook on things, to change you.
"no tell me what's wrong." he began walking towards you, "i know somethings wrong."
you became angry, angry because you so badly wanted to breakdown into tears- curl into a ball and disappear, but his stupid, selfish, greedy words made you decide against it. "god neymar, drop it."
you prayed he would let you go to bed angry, and you'd wake up and act like nothing happened, but he couldn't think like that. "no." he furrowed his eyebrows, "what's gotten into you? is it because i didn't spend enough time with you? if it is then i'm s-"
you audibly laughed in his face, it was ironic. "no it's the opposite neymar, maybe i spend too much time with you."
he remained confused for a mere few seconds, before his mouth shut, he didn't know what to say. "y/n."
"i mean i guess i already got a head start to the clingy thing, i didn't make you dinner tonight was that better for you? did that make things easier?" you mockingly spoke. sure it was evil to shove this in his face but you were tired of being calm about this when you were so far from it.
"that's not what i meant. i didn't mean it like that." he stood on the other side of the bed from you, tears brimmed his eyes now. how could he have the capacity within himself to hurt the person who has saved him from darkness? why did he say things like that so spitefully when you were someone who had filled his lungs with air and left the kiss of the sun on his skin.
but you'd wonder what life would be like if you were an easy girl. if all those people from the past wouldn't have done those things to you, if neymar wouldn't feel sideways about you. this was rubbing away at a part of you, the giving part of you- you were running out of these kind gestures bit by bit, but what did it matter? he didnt care for them anyways right?
you didnt even realize you were crying nor did you realize he'd came up behind you and wiped your tears.
"no i'm sorry baby." he buried his head into your neck. "i'm so sorry."
your tears fell regardless. your heart rate still at an all time low. you didn't believe that he was truly sorry, he gave unsolicited backlash to your raw wounds and spoke so openly about it.
you freed yourself from his grasp, and began to pace around the room, "no." you wiped the tears with your hand that ran down your face. he refused to let you make these decisions blind with anger. he corned you, begging you to say something, to yell at him, to tell him that he's stupid. god anything. "i can't believe you embarrassed me like that."
"i know y/n. i know, i know, im sorry." he ran a hand through his hair.
"i have given you every part of me since i have loved you and for you to-" you spoke through sobs- sobs that tore the air from you, "god what were you thinking."
his heart broke with that last line, he knew what it meant. it meant something had changed for you, that something would never be the same and the scariest part was that he didn't know what it was.
"i wasnt thinking i don't know what i was saying, please forgive me baby please." he was breaking down now too.
"who's simple?" you asked, expressionless besides the tears that stained your cheeks.
"what?"
"was bruna simple?"
three words and his expression fell. now equally as hurt as you that you had to bring that up, you were both hurting so it resulted in hurting each other. his hand that was once reaching for your cheek now fell this his side as he ran a hand over his mouth. he was more speechless now than before.
you took heavy note of him taking more offense to the mention of his ex than his comments towards you. you knew you were in the wrong to bring it up, but didn't he deserve it?
"im going to stay with my sister tonight." you grabbed your car keys and left- nevermjnd the fact that you didn't have a spare change of clothes.
he stood, watching you leave- not preferring it but not objecting, just letting it happen.
#neymar jr#neymar#neymar angst#neymar fluff#neymar headcanon#neymar smut#neymar x you#neymar imagine#neymar x reader#neymar imagines#neymajr
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episode five: the flea and the acrobat
“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?”
Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?”
“Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend.
Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”
summary: you and dustin have a long overdue Sibling Moment, at will's funeral you and jonathan exchange information and surprise ! it's all horrible news ! nancy has awful timing and when you leave her alone with jonathan one damn time you and steve end up trauma bonded on her front porch #bffs.
rating: general, though there's the use of guns in here for plot point sake, as well as cursing
warnings: use of guns, cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.
words: 14.4k (whew)
before you swing in: i'm back gang ! fall semester is almost done and i am in the trenches, so i leave y'all with this monster of a chapter before hell week (i have three finals in one day next week, no i don't want to talk about it). please enjoy this beauty, i had so much fun messing with character relationships in this and it was very ;)
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With how many times you’ve knocked on the Wheeler’s door this week, you’d think that Mrs. Wheeler would stop looking so surprised when she answers.
“Y/N?”
You give the woman a small smile. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. Is, uh, Mike home?”
“Yes… he stayed home today because of Will. Is there something you need?” The usually friendly woman seems beaten down from this week’s events as well, which you’re understanding of.
“I was wondering if I could come in and see how he’s doing? Dustin is really shaken up about it, so I figured…” You shrug, trying to come across as a concerned older sister figure rather than a worried and horrible babysitter who should really retire.
Mrs. Wheeler places a hand over her heart. “Oh, Y/N. You’ve always been so good with the boys, of course you can check on him. It means a lot that you care.”
Oh, no problem, but if we’re being honest I’m here because I’m scared I accidentally let your son get involved with the supernatural and dangerous monster men thingies that I honestly can’t wrap my head around!
Of course you can’t tell the woman this, so instead you thank her and let yourself in. Immediately you head towards the basement and fling the door open. You like Mrs. Wheeler, but the amount of times her son has snuck out of the house without her noticing honestly concerns you, so you’re a bit unsure if Mike even is home.
You get deja-vu from a few days ago as you head down the basement steps, once again hearing the three boys panicking as they try to hide El. Unlike last time, which had only annoyed you, seeing them scramble to hide the girl makes you relieved.
They’re here, alive and well. You’d let Steve distract you from your worrying on the drive over, so the relief hits you like a damn truck.
“Oh god not again!” Dustin groans when he sees you, worried that he’s once again going to get yelled at for being at the Wheeler’s with El.
You ignore his theatrics and walk over to the girl, who is laying face down on the couch. You notice that she’s dressed in one of Nancy’s old costumes and a blonde wig that suits her well. What the hell did the kids get up to today?
“Do I want to know why El is dressed like a doll and almost passed out on the couch?”
“That depends on if you’re going to yell at us again,” Mike says.
You shoot him a glare, but you guess he has a point. The last few times you’ve been with the kids you’ve ended up yelling at them one way or another. You feel bad about that, but then again: they won’t stop getting into trouble.
El manages to raise her head from the couch, “Hi, Y/N.”
“Hi, sweetie,” you approach the couch and gently nudge her to the side so that you can sit down and place her head on your lap. She nuzzles into your warmth and lets out a sleepy sigh. “And to answer your question, Mike: I’m not here to yell at you guys. I just… Please tell me what’s been going on. I know I haven’t been here for you guys like I should’ve, but-”
“Your boyfriend needed you more,” Mike quips, though there’s some resentment in his voice that causes you to feel even worse.
Dustin hits his shoulder against the boy. “He isn’t her boyfriend, but she couldn’t just abandon him; he needed her. Besides, we have been sneaking off without telling her anything.”
You cast an appreciative smile at your brother, thankful that even though he’s a pain in your ass, he always has your back like you do his. It’s something he’s always done with you and Mike; being so similar, you and him are constantly butting heads, yet Dustin has always been the first to defend you against his friend (even if you’ve never needed it in the first place).
“I’m sorry, okay? I messed up, but I’m here now and I really, really need to know if I’m being paranoid. What mess did you dweebs manage to get into?”
The three boys suddenly can’t look at you. Their heads turn in different directions, Lucas scratches the back of his neck, Mike kicks at a board piece on the ground, and Dustin whistles a tune.
Your shoulders slump. “Is it that bad?”
“It started this morning,”
“Lucas!”
“Mike, she could help us! The weirdo clearly likes her,” he gestures over to El practically asleep in your lap, “plus, she’s the only sane one left in this group. I need backup.”
“Backup?” You ask.
Mike throws his head back in annoyance and lets out a groan as if he’s dying. Truly, this kid is the most dramatic person you’ve ever met. “Fine, we’ll tell you everything if you agree to stop hounding us for sneaking around. Will is missing, he’s our friend, and no one in the party gets left behind.”
You think this over for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “I will agree to those terms if you guys agree to keep me updated on everything at all times.”
The boys try to argue, but you don’t let them.
“I mean it, another person is missing. Nancy’s friend, Barb, was in the same woods that Will was, the same woods that you guys keep insisting on trekking through without supervision. This is serious, guys. Whatever, or whoever, is out there… it’s dangerous, and I-” You swallow down some tears that claw against your throat. “I can’t lose anyone else, okay?”
The mood in the room is solemn, the three boys silent as your words hang in the air. Naturally, you try to lighten things up. “I’ll deny this if anyone asks, but unfortunately I love you boys.”
As expected, they immediately begin to gag and pretend that they’ve been impaled with something as they all scream “ew” and “yuck” at your words. You laugh, which causes El to laugh as well, and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed.
“So?” You ask after the boys have finished their gross theatrics.
Dustin is the one who makes the decision for them. “We promise to keep you updated, for real this time.”
“Good, now again I ask: why is El dressed like a doll and half asleep on my lap as we speak?”
Lucas, Dustin, and Mike begin to talk all at once.
“Mike radioed for me to head over, claiming he heard Will on the walkie.”
“Yeah, and then they radioed me to join. Sorry, by the way. I would’ve woken you up, but you and Jonathan looked so cozy in your bed so-”
“I thought you said they weren’t dating?”
“Not now, Mike.”
It continues like this for a while as they explain everything they did today. Sneaking El into the school, having to to talk to Mr. Clark, attending the assembly for Will, Mike fighting some idiotic kids for making fun of him before El made the head bully pee himself.
You look down at the girl in your lap. “You can really make people pee themselves?”
“Sometimes,” she shrugs.
“Lovely.”
“That’s what you focus on, Y/N?” Mike asks you, and you simply shrug your shoulders in response. Sue you for still having doubts about Will being alive, you’ve gotten your hopes up one too many times.
“Are you suggesting I believe that you heard Will through your cheap little walkies?”
Dustin puts his head in his hands in defeat while Lucas gestures over to you. “See, she’s the sane backup I need.”
Mike groans at you once more. “No, that’s why we snuck El into the radio room and used the heathkit that Mr. Clark got us. Keep up!”
“What, did you tell the guy that El was a new student?”
“Don’t be stupid, we told Mr. Clark that she’s my cousin.”
“Uhh, Y/N,” Dustin laughs nervously, motioning for you to stop talking. “You promised you’d be cool about everything if we told you.”
Knowing that your brother is right, you deflate a bit against the couch and start playing with El’s hair. “I am being cool, I just have so many questions.”
“Oh, just wait.” Lucas snorts.
Mike now crosses the room to stand in front of you, as if he’s gearing up to tell you some major news. “We heard Will on the heathkit. El, she managed to use her powers to communicate with him.”
Like always, the seriousness in his voice concerns yet intrigues you. “Lucas, do you really believe that it was Will?”
The boy nods at you, his face grim. You don’t like how scared he looks, because out of the entire group he’s the one who is always the most reasonable. If he’s willingly telling you that he thinks it was Will, then you have to start taking the situation at hand seriously.
“Okay, tell me exactly what you guys heard.”
And they do. One by one they tell you about Will’s pleading for his mom, telling her that it’s like home but cold and dark, the banging that followed after his words, how El had used so much of her energy trying to maintain the communication before the radio caught fire and she was too exhausted to do much else.
“So, you believe us now?” Mike asks after you’re silent for a moment.
You look down at the girl in your lap, in awe that someone so small and shy could hold so much power. This time you believe what the boys tell you without much conviction. Now that you know that Barb is missing as well, lost in the same woods as Will, the same woods where you found El, the photos from Nancy and the figure she claims she saw… It’s all starting to come together.
You’re not sure exactly what you’re caught up in, but you know it’s too late to back out. Whatever is going on, whatever thing took Will and transported him to some unknown place with possibly the same powers that El has, you know it’s your responsibility to handle it.
“Yes,” you respond, and the boys all sigh with relief. “Just one question though,”
Dustin sighs. “Yes, Y/N?”
“How did it take you guys so long to set fire to the school? Honestly, Jonathan and I thought it’d happen sooner.”
“You’re hilarious.” Mike deadpans, which only causes you and El to giggle together again.
“I hate to ruin the good mood, but we seriously need to figure out what Will meant when he said that wherever he is ‘is like home’.” Your brother interrupts.
Mike spins to face him. “He said, ‘like home, but dark’, right?”
“And ‘empty’.” Lucas adds.
“‘Empty’ and ‘cold’. Wait, did he say cold?” Dustin asks the group.
You nod your head. “You mentioned cold earlier.”
Lucas throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “The stupid radio kept going in and out!”
“It’s like riddles in the dark…” Your brother sighs, which you hum in agreement to.
Will’s words were pretty vague, but you wish you had been there at the middle school as well. Maybe if you had heard the tone of Will’s voice, you’d be of more help.
Mike continues to mumble about “like home” and “dark” for a few more seconds, now pacing around the room. You watch from the couch, El still resting with her head in your lap, and as you’re playing with her hair she finally speaks up after having been silent for a while.
“Upside down.”
“What’d she say?” Lucas asks.
“Upside down? I guess?” Is all you can tell him.
“What?”
While you, Dustin, and Lucas are confused by El’s words, Mike rushes over to the forgotten board from a few days ago and sits down. He frantically flips it over and motions for you to come and join him. You hesitate for a second, but he only doubles down on his waving you over, so you gently lift El’s head up and walk over.
“God, took you long enough.”
“I was literally three feet away from you on the couch, why did I have to move?”
Mike ignores your question and begins to explain the thirty million thoughts flying through his head at the moment, “When El showed us where Will was, she flipped the board over, remember?”
You nod, slowly understanding where he’s going with this. “She flipped it upside down.”
“Exactly! Dark. Empty.”
Lucas looks over at you and Dustin, unamused. “Do you understand what he’s talking about?”
“No,” your brother says at the same time as you saying “the upside down part? Yes. The dark and empty part? No.”
Mike tries to explain further. “Guys, come on, think about it. When El took us to find Will, she took us to his house, right?”
“You mean last night when they found Will’s body in the water?” You ask, not really understanding where Mike is going with all this.
“Like Y/N said, he wasn’t there.” Lucas reminds everyone, but Mike still tries to get his point across.
“But what if he was there? What if we just couldn’t see him, what if he was on the other side?”
You think about Jonathan’s words from earlier today in the car while on the way to the funeral home, trying to calm down from his fight with his mom. He had told you about how Joyce was convinced that Will was in the walls within their home, that the body they saw in the morgue hadn’t been his.
“Hold on,” you interrupt Mike, “you guys said that there was some, like, banging where Will was, right? And that he had been begging his mom to come get him?”
“Yeah, it was like some sick sci-fi movie!”
You glare at your brother. “Ignoring you. Anyways, did you guys hear Mrs. Byers on the radio as well?”
Mike shakes his head. “No, all we could hear was the banging and something... Growling, I guess.”
Knowing Joyce, you’d bet money that the banging had been her. You know that the next time you go over to their house, the walls might actually be destroyed, but she’d been right all along. Will is alive, he has to be. The pieces that you’ve slowly been collecting this past week fall together one by one.
“That explains the walls and the weird monster thing in Jonathan’s picture,” you mumble to yourself, but Lucas hears you.
“Do I wanna know?”
You purse your lips. “Let’s focus on figuring out where Will is, then I’ll tell you guys what I’ve been up to this week.”
“Okay, so,” Mike begins again, now grabbing the board game and flipping it onto its normal, light side. “What if this is Hawkins,” he flips it upside down onto its dark side, “and this is where Will is?”
“The Upside Down.” You finish for him.
“The Upside Down.” Mike confirms.
Slowly Dustin follows along. “Like the Vale of Shadows.”
Somehow you always end up the one confused when it comes to these damn kids. “The Vale of Shadows? What the hell is that?”
Dustin runs over to the bookshelf and pulls out a thick binder full of paper, but as he flips through it you realize it’s a rulebook for Dungeons and Dragons. He lands on the page he’s looking for, and you feel your shoulders drop. Great. More confusing terminology ahead.
“‘The Vale of Shadows’,” he begins to read, “‘is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters’.”
“Wait, didn’t you say something about a monster, Y/N?” Lucas asks, but you shush him so you don't miss whatever else Dustin will say next.
“‘It is right next to you, and you don’t even see it’.” He finishes.
His words hang in the air for a moment, but Mike, always somehow three steps ahead, pieces it together. “An alternate dimension.”
Lucas finally accepts what’s happening. “But how do we get there?”
“I’m sorry, we?” You look between all three boys, their faces still young and holding the childish innocence that you once had yourself. “No, there’s no ‘we’ in this. I may not know much about alternate dimensions, but there’s no way I’m letting you guys try to find and go to one.”
Mike rolls his eyes at you. “Well what choice do we have? Do you want to tell that mean police chief about this?”
“I…well… I mean-no.” You sink down in the seat, annoyed that Mike is right. No way Hopper believes any of this, you hardly believe any of it.
“Can we cast shadow walk?” Dustin focuses back on the conversation at hand.
You don’t bother to ask what that means.
“In real life, dummy.” Lucas reminds him.
“We can’t shadow walk, but…” Your brother’s eyes land on El, who is still laying on the couch, silent and unmoving. “Maybe she can.”
The four of you turn towards the girl, and Mike voices his own question. “Do you know how we get there? To the Upside Down?”
El meets your eyes, and you can see that she’s hesitant about something. She’s been quieter than usual, almost suspiciously so, and you know that the more Mike figures things out, the more hesitant she becomes. She shakes her head at you, and you give her a sad smile.
Lucas flings his head back and groans. “Oh my god!”
Mike and Dustin seem to be thinking the same thing, disappointed by El’s lack of help. You don’t blame them, also frustrated by the fact that it feels like you guys are so close to discovering something big. You can feel hope reignite in your chest; you haven’t been this close to an explanation about Will all week. This has to be it. It’s the only way you can explain everything that’s been happening lately.
Speaking of which:
“Remember how I mentioned Barb and a possible monster?”
You tell them everything, about Jonathan’s worry for his mom, how their phone got charred by lightning, Hopper’s theory that Will had been running from something, Nancy and Barb attending Steve’s party and how Barb had been on her own near the woods. You tell them about how Barb has been missing ever since and the photos Jonathan took (leaving out the horrible ones of Nancy) that Nancy brought to your attention at the funeral home. The figure in the background, looming over Barb, how it didn’t seem to have a face.
Then you tell them about Joyce and her spiral, though now you know she actually wasn’t crazy. You tell them about the Christmas lights and Will communicating with her through them. How she claimed that she could hear him through the wall and that the body in the quarry hadn’t been him.
When you’re finally done catching them up, they stare at you with their jaws open.
“Dustin,” Mike says, “remind me to never leave your sister out ever again.”
“Noted.”
–
The events from the day had left El exhausted and she refuses to say anything else after you explain everything to the boys. Her eyes droop while Mike interrogates you for answers you can’t give him, so finally you take pity on the poor girl and tell him that you’ll talk more in the morning.
Mike isn’t too happy about being shut down, but when you point towards a half asleep El he reluctantly gives in. “Fine, but as soon as the funeral is over we’re discussing this further.”
Right. Will’s funeral is tomorrow.
“Yeah, sure,” you tuck your hair behind your ears and motion over to Dustin. “We need to go, it’s late and mom will be wondering where we are.”
He tries to argue with you but you just gather your things and head for the stairs. There’s still a lot you need to think about and a million things you need to sort before the funeral tomorrow. Did Jonathan even buy the coffin? Who had made the arrangements after you and him left the funeral home with Nancy?
There’s a lot you need to talk about when you call him tonight.
The bike ride home with Lucas and Dustin is a quiet one, both boys understanding that you need some time to think about everything you learned tonight.
You make a list in your head of what you do know, but it’s a frustratingly short list.
1) El, one way or another, has powers that enable her to communicate with Will in some weird upside down universe that you can’t actually get to (can you even count this as something you know?)
2) Hopper was right: Will went missing because he was running from something (probably the same faceless thing that’s in Jonathan’s photo).
3) Whatever took Will also took Barb, bringing Nancy into this wonderfully confusing mess (you still don’t know if her involvement is a good or bad thing).
Everything else? You have no fucking clue what’s going on.
When you get home with Dustin, it’s late; the two of you have to sneak past your mom, who fell asleep with Mews on her lap in the living room. Dustin heads straight for his room but you stop him, motioning for him to come into yours for a second.
“What-”
“Shh!” You quickly shut your door to ensure that your mom won’t hear anything.
Dustin groans. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna yell at me?”
You roll your eyes at him. “I yell at you guys twice after years of patience, now suddenly I’m a screaming monster,” he doesn’t say anything and flings himself onto the bean bag by your bed. “Anyways, we’re long overdue for a code blue.”
Your brother shoots up from the bean bag, eyes wide. “No.”
“Yes,” you join him on the bean bag. “Code blue time, we’re going to talk about our feelings after the hellish week we’ve had. C’mon, you know the drill.”
Code blue was something the two of you came up with when your dad left. You had been twelve when it happened, Dustin had been nine. It’d been a really rough few months for you guys, dealing with the betrayal of your dad while also moving away from your hometown in Virginia all within a year. Neither of you had adjusted well to the sudden changes, and though you were angry and bitter about what had happened, the moment you saw that it was affecting your brother you decided to implement code blue.
It’s simple, really. Whoever calls for a code blue gets to talk about or ask whatever they want while the other is required to answer. Originally it was so that you could force Dustin into telling you his feelings, but over the years it’s become a way to bond with each other and know that no matter what you’ll be there for one another. No half truths or a vague “I’m fine”; it’s a time for you guys to be vulnerable with one another without using it as leverage against the other.
Dustin plops his head back down. “Fine, but I’m tired so can this be quick?”
“Hey, no complaining during code blue. That’s like, rule number one.”
“Y/N.” His tone is one of annoyance and you know that if you don’t start talking soon then you’ll lose his interest.
“Right, sorry. Okay,” you clear your throat and face your brother. “Today’s code blue topic is this: I’m worried about you getting your hopes up about Will. We don’t know that he’s alive just yet.”
As expected, Dustin is unhappy with what you’ve said. “We do know that he’s alive, I heard him on the heathkit. He’s alive, Y/N.” He sees the uncertainty on your face and doubles down on what he’s saying. “He is.”
You bite your lip, scared that you’ll say the wrong thing. “Dustin, nothing is certain. Even though we’re definitely onto something, and while I believe that you heard Will on the radio, that doesn’t change the fact that there’s something else out there that wants to hurt him. I mean, he’s trapped in some weird alternate dimension that we have no idea how to even get into. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
You think about the way your brother’s face fell when they pulled Will’s body out of the water. How the hope that had been in his eyes immediately died alongside his childhood naivety. He had built all of his hope upon a shaky foundation; the moment it collapsed he fell apart.
“Look I know you’re trying to look out for me, but Will is a part of the party. He’s our friend, we can’t just lose hope and leave him behind. He needs us.” Dustin speaks with so much certainty and an aura of maturity that almost makes you forget that he’s twelve.
“I’m not saying it’s dangerous to have hope, but I need you to promise me that you’ll protect yourself from whatever happens next. How’s that sound?”
Dustin thinks for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin. “Hmm, I think I can make that deal if you promise the same thing. I mean, c’mon, it’s obvious that you’re the sensitive one out of the two of us. You and hope? Doomed.”
You laugh, knowing he’s right. You’ve always been branded by hope; hopeful for love, for dreams, and for those who may not always deserve it. You and hope haven’t always gotten along, but she’s become a familiar friend.
“I think you’ve got yourself a deal. Now, it’s late and I have to call Jonathan and catch him up on everything, so let’s conclude code blue with its mandatory hug.”
“Woah woah woah, I don’t think we gotta-”
Dustin’s words become muffled as you throw yourself on top of him and squish him into a hug. He squirms against you for a second, claiming he can’t breathe, but you shush him and force him to accept the hug. Though you won’t ever tell him this, losing Will has only made you more appreciative of having a wonderfully annoying little brother.
After code blue, Dustin goes to his room claiming that “alternate dimensions are super draining”, and before he leaves you tell him to be ready tomorrow by nine for the funeral and that your mom will take him. You’ll be at the Byers’ helping Jonathan.
Once he’s gone you give yourself a few moments to sit in silence, letting the events from today settle over you. It seems like all you’ve felt this week is exhaustion and hurt and at the rate everything is going, there’s no telling how long you’ll feel this way.
The moment you’re done wallowing you roll off the bean bag and walk over to your desk to call Jonathan. You’re honestly not sure what you’ll even tell him tonight, there’s no way you’ll be able to cover everything before the night ends. The two of you have a long day tomorrow, so you figure you’ll have to make do with the limited time you have and summarize.
Jonathan answers after a few rings. “How’d your little secret mission go?”
You make a face. “Is it even a secret mission if I told you I was going on it?”
“It is if you refuse to tell me what you did during it.”
“Touche, bee.”
He laughs, which sends a cascading warmth throughout your body. You can envision him perfectly on the other end of the line, leaning against his kitchen wall with the phone wire wrapped around his finger as he absent mindedly fiddles with it while he talks to you.
You clear your throat and shake the thought from your mind, you called him for a reason. “Anyways… we need to talk.”
Jonathan is silent for a moment and you can feel the playfulness fade away. “Yeah, you first though. You already know what Nance and I were up to.”
Nance?
Awesome. Cool. Totally not going to be consumed by that later.
“Right. Uh, well. I went looking for Dustin because the other night when I was with the boys we stumbled upon this, well, this little girl.”
“A girl?”
“Yeah, she’s bald.”
“Okay… is that important or…?”
“Unsure, but it felt important to tell you. Sorry,” you take a deep breath, “I’m not sure why I’m so nervous right now.”
“It’s okay, bug. It’s me, you can tell me anything.”
No I can’t.
“Sure, yeah, totally. Um, so anyways we found her, her name is El, and she’s our only connection to Will right now.”
A beat of silence. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she kinda has… powers?”
“Powers,”
“Powers.”
You hear Jonathan sigh on the other end of the call. “Bug, you’re not seriously telling me that the boys have somehow dragged you into one of their little schemes, right?”
Yeah, he’s reacting exactly how you figured he would.
“I know what it sounds like, but Jonathan… How else would you explain everything going on? Will disappeared, Barb did too, your mom and her lights. Now that thing Nancy saw in the woods, which I know you definitely have an update that will only further prove how weird this all is.”
Again Jonathan is quiet, and this time you envision him pacing little circles in the kitchen as he carefully thinks through your words, trying to piece it all together. “We developed the photo again and you’re right, there’s something behind Barb in it.”
You close your eyes and exhale. “So, you believe me now?”
“Guess I don’t really have a choice.”
“You don’t.”
“Then we’ll talk about it after the funeral tomorrow.” He concedes.
“Yeah,” you let out a shaky breath, “the funeral. I’ll make my way over the second I wake up tomorrow to help with everything.”
“You don’t have to-”
“I know.”
More silence settles over the two of you. It’s still hard to wrap your head around the fact that it was only a week ago where everything was normal. No disappearances, no weird feelings, no heartbreak and confusion.
“Bug?” Jonathan is practically whispering.
“Yeah?”
“Lonnie is here.”
The words hit you hard. Why the fuck is Lonnie back in Hawkins? “Do you need to spend the night? I can finally bake those cookies for your mom and we can watch whatever you want.”
“No,” he sounds exhausted. “He hasn’t been a problem yet, and I can’t…”
“Leave your mom with him?” You finish.
“He thinks she’s crazy and her axing down one of our walls doesn’t help-”
So you were right, Joyce did indeed break down her wall to try and get to Will.
“Jonathan, it’s okay. I understand, stay with her and get some rest. Sleep, that’s an order.”
He lets out a weak laugh. “I love you, bug.”
Like how I love you?
“I love you too, bee.” The words burn your tongue.
“Goodnight,”
“Sleep well.”
–
You’re up before the sun this morning.
You spent hours tossing and turning last night, hardly getting any sleep. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to turn your mind off. All you could think about was Jonathan, his smile and his voice and the way he kisses your forehead whenever you’ve done something especially endearing to him. You were surrounded by him last night.
Now you stand outside his front door holding a tin of cookies, dressed in a simple knitted black dress and tights with mary janes that used to belong to your mom for Will’s funeral. The shoes are your favorite, but now you’re afraid they’re tainted by the occasion you’re wearing them for.
It’s Lonnie who opens the door. “Well if it isn’t little miss Henderson. I missed ya, sweetheart.”
You haven’t seen the man in two years, having been fourteen when he left Joyce and the kids. Since then he’s only aged horribly, his eyes slightly yellowed and his beer gut now more prominent. Clearly he still prefers alcohol over human company. Figures.
“Can’t say the same about you.” Your shoulder hits his as you walk in and he lets out an annoyed huff.
The man follows you but you pay him no attention. Instead you head straight towards Joyce and the second she sees you she runs into your arms; you only have a few seconds to place down the cookies before she’s in your arms.
“Y/N! You’re here!” She squeezes you tight and you melt into her embrace. She’s always given the best hugs whenever you’ve needed the comfort, but now it’s your turn to be the one offering the support.
“Of course, Mrs. Byers. Who else will make sure Jonathan is ready on time?” You mean for it to be a joke, but the way that Joyce’s eyes harden tells you that the funeral is a sore topic for her. She still doesn’t believe that Will is dead and it breaks your fucking heart that you can’t tell her she’s right.
Joyce wipes away a tear before pulling away. She goes to say something before seeing the tin of cookies on the counter; she immediately pulls you into another hug. “Oatmeal raisin,”
“They’re your favorite.”
“And Will’s.”
“And Will’s favorite. You know I gotta take care of my Byers.” You whisper into her ear, feeling Lonnie’s eyes on you during the exchange. You have to bite back your tongue, though his presence always makes you feel a type of anger that’s normally foreign to you.
Joyce pulls away and you know it’s taking everything in her to give you a smile. “You’re too good, sweetie,” she tucks a loose strand of hair that came out of its braid. “Jonathan’s in his room.”
You grab her hand and give it a squeeze, trying to convey just how much you love and admire her into a simple gesture, before letting go and walking over to Jonathan’s door.
He’s struggling with his tie when you let yourself in. He’s dressed in the only nice white button down he owns, something he bought for his aunt’s funeral a few years ago that now hardly fits. You can tell that he’s getting frustrated with the tie, so you walk over and help.
“Here, let me,” you wrap your fingers around the piece of cloth and quickly fashion it into a tie. The two of you don’t talk while you fix the clothing and you know that today will be a wordless day with Jonathan.
When you’ve finished, you begin to pull away before he places his hands around yours. He cups your hands at the base of his neck as they rest against his collarbones; your fingers are still wrapped around his tie. He squeezes your hands and brings them to his lips and kisses your knuckles so softly that you feel all the love within you simmer.
You know he’s only trying to express his gratitude for you but the butterflies in your stomach make you feel faint.
You’d do anything for him.
–
The funeral has a surprising turnout, not because you ever doubted Will’s incredible ability to be loved by anyone he meets, but because you see faces in the crowd who you’ve never seen before.
You stand behind Jonathan during the funeral with your hand on his shoulder as he sits with his family in a weak attempt to provide comfort during the service. It’s really fucking bleak. Your other hand is on Dustin’s shoulder as he stands next to you while Mike and Lucas are to the right of him.
Your mother is in the back of the crowd having known she’d cry the entire service, and faintly you can hear her blow her nose into a tissue and sniffle.
The pastor drones on for a while about how a tragedy like this won’t separate everyone from God’s love, but if attending the funeral for a twelve year old boy is how God shows his love then you want no part in it. Joyce sits stoic alongside Lonnie, Jonathan hasn’t moved at all since the service began; they’re a family brought together by grief. This isn’t love.
“Just wait until we tell Will that Jennifer Hayes was crying at his funeral,” Dustin snickers, effectively breaking you from your thoughts. You hit his shoulder and shush him as Mrs. Wheeler reminds the boys to be quiet. You flash her an apologetic smile for your brother’s actions.
You know how firmly the boys believe Will is alive and you honestly can’t say you don’t think so as well, but nothing is certain. Even if he’s alive there’s no way you guys can get to wherever he is; you wish the boys would use some caution with how quickly they’re building their hopes up.
After the service you walk up to Will’s grave and bend down. You bring one of the yellow roses from the funeral director up to your lips and whisper, “If you’re out there little bee, please, come home.”
Before dropping the rose in you give it a gentle kiss, inhaling its sweet scent and watching as it falls down onto his coffin. Jonathan finds you there crouched down and sees the rose right as it lands. He doesn’t say anything, he just grabs your hand and helps you stand up to bring you over to where Nancy is waiting a couple yards away.
“Hey, Y/N.”
You don’t have it in you to do anything other than wave at the girl, but she seems to understand and gives you a sympathetic smile.
Soon the three of you are settled on the ground with your backs against an old rickety fence behind some tombstones. Jonathan is in the middle of you and Nancy and you rest your head against his shoulder, already exhausted from the day. It’s not the coziest spot to be sitting, but at least you’re away from prying eyes.
Once you’re seated, Jonathan finally talks for the first time today. “Alright, I already told you this over the phone last night bug, but Nancy was right. After we redeveloped the photo there’s definitely some kind of figure behind Barb, and we thought maybe if my mom has been right all along about some monster-”
“Then she’s right about Will being alive.” You finish for him, having already come to the same conclusion yourself.
“And Barb has to be alive if Will is.” Nancy says, and there’s a spark of hope in her voice that surprises you. You’re ashamed to admit that you didn’t think her and Barb were that close, but seeing how worried she’s been for the girl makes you realize that you’d been a fool not to have seen it sooner. Barb was Nancy’s closest friend. You don’t know what you’d do if Jonathan ever disappeared like Barb did.
Jonathan pushes your head with his shoulder. “Anything you want to share with the class?”
You look between him and Nancy and try to decide how much you should tell them. While you’ve already told Jonathan a little bit about El, you’re not sure if you can trust the information with Nancy. However, seeing her urgency to find her friend leaves you feeling a bit safer disclosing the information to her.
“It started the night after Will disappeared…”
It takes a while to tell them everything, and while Jonathan butts in a few times to ask questions, Nancy remains silent and eagerly listens. She nods when she’s supposed to, engages with the story as if her life depends on it. You’re incredibly impressed by her intelligence and openness to the situation at hand. Had it been anyone else they would’ve scoffed at you and called you insane. But Nancy? She holds onto every word and trusts that what you’re saying is true.
You’re starting to admire her, as painful as it is to admit. But Nancy Wheeler is fucking brilliant, there’s no denying that.
When you’re finally done explaining El and the Upside Down, Nancy finally speaks. “Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly, you’ve been helping my brother harbor a girl with superpowers in my basement?”
Huh.
You hadn’t thought of it that way.
“Ya know, you make a good point.”
Thankfully she laughs and doesn’t seem too upset, which relieves you. You reassure her that they’re fine and that El is someone you trust, and Nancy seems to take comfort in your words. It’s not that you purposely hid the situation from her, but looking back you definitely could’ve used her help now that you know how cool she is.
As the two of you are laughing, Jonathan pulls out a piece of paper.
“What’s that?” You ask.
He shows you. “I printed out a map of Hawkins and drew x’s on every place we know for sure the monster has been.”
“Two questions: one, so we’re officially calling it the monster now? And two, why don’t you ever put in this much effort for school projects we do together?”
Jonathan flicks the paper in your face. “Funny. And yes, we’re calling it the monster now. Can you pay attention please?”
“Sorry,”
Nancy shuffles in closer and her head is practically on Jonathan’s shoulder as well (you’re choosing to ignore that) and she studies the paper and points to one of the x’s. “So that’s-”
“Steve’s house,” Jonathan points to another x, “and that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike and where Y/N last saw him,” the familiar feeling of guilt washes over you, “and that’s my house.”
Nancy reaches over Jonathan and grabs your hand, surprising you both. “You saw Will last?”
“Yeah,” you swallow, your mouth now suddenly dry.
“I’m sorry,” her tone is sincere.
“We should get back to the map…” You dodge, highly uncomfortable with Nancy’s comfort. You appreciate it, but you’ve never been good at accepting help from others.
“Right, sorry,” Nancy clears her throat. “The x’s, they’re all so close.”
Jonathan observes the interaction with slight confusion but decides not to say anything besides, “Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s not traveling far.”
There’s a look in his eyes as he speaks, one of determination and disdain for whatever that thing is, and before you can tell him no, it’s Nancy who voices your concern first. “You want to go out there.”
Jonathan nods and you feel uneasy. “I trust you won’t try going alone again, right?” It’s a question, but he hears the underlying try and I’ll kill you hidden beneath your words.
“No, not this time… but we might not find anything.”
“I found something,” Nancy reminds him, which you nod at. She’s the only one out of the three of you who has seen the monster in person, and if you had to place any bets, she’s the one who will be able to figure out what the fuck to do with it.
Actually, what are you guys going to do?
“Do we, like, have a plan for after we’re done monster sightseeing? Or are we just going to take a look at it and call it a night?” You ask the two of them.
Nancy bites her lip and looks down, also unsure what exactly the three of you are supposed to do. It’s Jonathan who remains stone faced, and there’s a newfound sense of confidence within him that you’ve never seen when he boldly states, “We kill it.”
“Alright there tough guy,” you hit his chest with your hand and snort. “Sure, we kill it. Obviously.”
“Well, do you have any other ideas? For all we know, Mike and the others will be out there in those woods later looking for Will.”
“We don’t know that-”
“Bug, humor me, how did they find El again?”
You’re silent. He’s right, if you guys don’t go and find this monster before tonight then there’s a high chance the boys and El will find it themselves. Fuck.
“Nancy,” you say to the girl, “it seems like we’re now officially monster hunters.”
–
Of course Lonnie has a goddamn handgun just casually stored in his glove box.
You’re not entirely on board with this whole gun situation and apparently Nancy isn’t either, immediately questioning Jonathan when he picks the lock to get the gun.
“What, you want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it? Better yet, why doesn’t Y/N just round up the boys and El and have them take it down.”
“Okay, hey,” you point at Jonathan. “Out of line.”
He mumbles an apology under his breath while Nancy claims that this is all a terrible idea. You’re not sure where you fall in regards to what’s happening, but you’d say at the moment you’re a solid mix between Jonathan’s no time for nonsense mood and Nancy’s hey let’s slow down hesitation.
You kick a rock and watch as it dings against Lonnie’s car, which pleases you. “Oh it’s definitely a terrible idea, Nancy. Unfortunately it’s all we have going for us at the moment.”
Jonathan nods at your words. “She’s right, no one’s going to believe us if we tell them. You know that.”
“Your mom would.” Nancy responds, jutting her jaw out in defiance.
You cringe, unsure how Jonathan will respond to what she’s said. Joyce is a sore topic for him, he’s always been so protective of her.
“She’s been through enough,” he sighs, and you hum in agreement.
Nancy grows more frustrated. “She deserves to know!”
You step in between them. “Look, you’re right. Mrs. Byers deserves to know, but right now she isn’t well enough to handle the idea of her only remaining son actively seeking out a monster that may have taken her other son who could possibly be alive. If we’re wrong or Jonathan gets hurt, it might actually kill her.”
“Yeah, we’ll tell her when this thing is dead.” You note Jonathan’s word choice, saying “when” instead of “if”. In the four years you’ve been his friend, you’ve never seen him so self-assured before. You’d be proud of him if the circumstances weren’t so damn grim.
“What about the kids?” Nancy finally says after a few seconds of silence.
“They can’t get involved, I won’t let them.” You tell her and she nods as if expecting you’d say that.
She gestures over to the funeral home where the crowd of attendees are now gathered for the post burial service. “I know my brother, so you better go and tell him that they need to stay at our house while we deal with the monster. They like you better than they like me, they’ll listen to you if you explain what we’re doing.”
You’re flattered by her words, honestly. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas listening to you about staying put while you guys go monster hunting? They’d be out the door before you’d be even able to finish saying the phrase “monster hunting”. No way they’ll listen, and you’re about to say exactly that before catching the look Jonathan is giving you.
You groan at him. “You don’t actually believe they’ll listen to me, right? C’mon, you know those boys as well as I do. This is just a giant DnD game for them at this point.”
He shrugs, “It doesn’t hurt to try?”
Nancy gives you a hopeful look and bats her eyelashes at you, which, okay, shouldn’t work on you but does. Jonathan does the same, except instead of batting his eyelashes he winks at you and suddenly you’re very confused by the onslaught of emotions that wash over you.
“Ugh, fine. But when they show up in the woods later you guys are on your own!”
–
When you step inside the service hall, everyone is gathered into small groups talking amongst themselves. You scan the room for the kids and spot them across the room sitting at a table with Mr. Clark. He’s talking to them about something while holding a paper plate up. You’re not sure what exactly he’s saying to the boys, but they’re leaning in close to him and are listening intently.
This worries you.
You try to make your way over as quickly as you can, but being Jonathan’s best friend has some challenges. Every few steps you take you’re stopped by an extended family member of the Byers to ask how you are or a stranger stops to offer you their condolences because you’re close with the family. You do your best to make small talk and thank the people, but you don’t have time to say much else besides, “thank you” or “you were Will’s favorite great aunt”.
By the time you finally get to the table with Mr. Clark and the boys, the man has folded up the paper plate and stabs it with a pen. You really, really don’t want to know whatever the hell this man is explaining to the kids.
“You create a doorway,” he explains, holding up the plate and smiling at the boys.
Dustin looks enthralled. “Like a gate?”
“Sure, like a gate. But again, this is all-”
“Theoretical.” Lucas says, nodding his head.
A gate?
What are the odds the boys are talking about a gate to Disneyland?
You sigh, not liking the odds at all.
You slide yourself into Dustin’s chair and force your brother to share with you. He squeaks in surprise and you flash him a tight lipped smile, which causes him to gulp. He knows he’s been busted.
Mike scoffs at your arrival. “Gee, wonder why you’re here Y/N.”
“Go on, continue this conversation with Mr. Clark here. I wanna hear it.”
Mr. Clark looks at you uncertainly but Mike simply carries on with the conversation as if you aren’t even here. “But what if this gate already existed?”
“Well, if it did I think we’d know.”
You snort. “Wanna bet?”
Again the man looks at you uncertainly and clears his throat, uncomfortable by your presence. “What I mean to say is that it would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment.”
“So if there is a gate, it’d be really bad?” You ask, but you already know the answer.
“Oh, definitely. It might even swallow us up whole!”
You and the boys look around the table at one another, not at all liking what Mr. Clark is saying. Swallow you guys up whole? That’s not really something you’re interested in.
Mr. Clark sees your nervousness and shrugs. “Science is neat, but it’s not very forgiving.”
Silence falls upon the table.
Mr. Clark is such a peachy person.
“Well!” You throw your hands upon the table and the loud noise causes everyone to flinch. “Thank you so much for that lovely information, Mr. Clark. It was truly riveting, but would you mind giving me and the boys a second alone? I just, I want to make sure they’re doing okay after today.”
You bat your eyes at the man, something you never do, and he clears his throat and excuses himself. The second he’s gone you snap your finger in the boys’ faces. “Hey, listen up. Whatever you guys are planning? Don’t.”
As usual, Mike is the one who argues. “But-”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what we’re-”
“No.”
“Can you at least let me-”
“Sure,”
“Really?”
“No.”
Lucas and Dustin watch the interaction with slight pleasure, amused by your ability to shut Mike up, but when he turns to them for help they reluctantly give in.
“Y/N,” Dustin sighs, “honestly, how many times are we gonna do this whole ‘we’re not allowed but we’re going to do it anyways’ bit?”
You glare at your brother. “However many times it takes for you guys to finally listen.”
“Cool. Then we’ll expect you to bust down Mike’s door later tonight.”
“I’m not kidding,” you face all the kids and make sure they’re listening. “Whatever you’re trying to do, don’t. Jonathan and I-”
“You told Jonathan?” Mike exclaims but Lucas shushes him.
“We’re going to handle it, we already have a plan but whatever you do: stay out of the woods from here on out. We think… We think there’s a monster out there hiding. I just want to make sure you guys are safe.”
“Monster hunting?” Dustin’s eyes light up and you silently curse Jonathan and Nancy for even suggesting you do this in the first place.
“Technically… yes, but you guys absolutely have to stay put.”
They stare at you as if you’re insane.
“You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” Dustin asks.
You flick his head. “Yes, and I’m putting a lot of trust in you guys right now. I’ll let you guys do whatever you want so long as it doesn’t include the woods. Until you get an all clear from me, it’s off limits.”
Mike thinks this over. “Can we look for the gate then?”
You sigh. There’s no other way to appease them. “If you don’t go near the woods… then fine.”
The boys begin to cheer, which causes several funeral guests to stare at you with judgment. You realize now that this probably hadn’t been the right setting to have this conversation in. Oh well.
You don’t let the boys cheer for long. “However-”
“There she goes,” Lucas sinks into his seat and squeezes his eyes shut.
“I get full updates whenever I please. I don’t care if I have to track you guys down from the gates of hell itself, but I will find you and you will tell me everything. Deal?”
Lucas, Dustin, and Mike gather close together and duck their heads down so whisper to one another. You roll your eyes but wait for them to finish. When they’ve reached a decision, Mike interlocks his fingers and places his hands on the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
–
As soon as you’ve changed out of your funeral clothes and into a simple pair of jeans and a sweater, Jonathan arrives at your house. You kiss your mom’s cheek before leaving and shout over your shoulder, “Remember the deal, Dustin!”
You don’t quite catch what your brother responds with but you honestly don’t care enough as you run over to Jonathan’s car and hop into the passenger seat.
“You certainly didn’t waste any time getting here,” you say in lieu of a hello.
Jonathan shrugs. “No time to waste when it comes to monster hunting.”
“You do realize that we’re only scouting out the woods tonight, right?”
You, Jonathan, and Nancy had decided earlier to simply go and explore the woods for any clues of the monster and then figure out how, or even if, you can kill it.
“I know, but monster hunting sounds cooler.”
“Bless you, bee.”
The two of you get to the field in no time. Jonathan had been the one to suggest the spot a few yards behind his house for target practice and Nancy had agreed to bring a bat just in case you needed more protection.
And you?
You’re bringing the cans to serve as targets for shooting. Your family has never owned a gun and last time you checked, Dustin doesn’t play any sports, so all you can offer is your emptied recycling bin contents.
It doesn’t take long for you and Jonathan to set up the cans on top of the tree trunks before he begins shooting. Jonathan takes a deep breath and holds the gun up so it’s eye level and looks over at you. “Ready?”
You take a deep breath as well and prepare yourself, knowing it’s about to become loud. “Yeah, start shootin cowboy.”
The first shot hits a tree behind the can, nowhere near its intended target, and you wince. It’s looking like the monster might actually win at the rate Jonathan’s aim is going.
“It’s okay,” you tell your friend. “The tree looked at me funny, he had it coming.”
Jonathan snorts. “You’re laughing now, but I can’t exactly hunt a monster if I can’t even shoot it.”
“Maybe you could talk nicely to it?”
“And say what, exactly? ‘Hey, Mr. Monster, where are you hiding my brother?’”
You step closer to him so that you’re now side by side and you nudge his shoulder. “Hey, you never know. It could work.”
Jonathan readjusts his grip on the gun and aims it once more. He takes another shot, this time it lands a bit closer to the can, but not by much. He lets out an agitated, “Fuck!”
He tries shooting again and again but each shot is as unpredictable as the last. After his sixth round of firing you can see how tense his shoulders are and the way he’s clenching his fists against the weapon. You remember how he acted earlier today, the newfound anger and resentment within Jonathan that had originally impressed you. Now it only frightens you.
When he goes to re-aim the gun for the seventh time, you grab at his hand and stop him.
“Bug, what are you-”
“Let’s go for a walk.”
Jonathan looks at you like you’re crazy but you simply take the gun from his hands, click the safety back on, and then walk over to the tree stumps to rest it against one of them. When you’re done you walk back over to the boy and interlock your fingers with his to drag him along.
There’s not a whole bunch of room in the clearing for a walk per say, but there’s enough to go a few laps around for Jonathan to take a breather. You’re not sure exactly what’s going on with him but a walk has never hurt anyone.
Jonathan’s silent the first lap around. You’re content with this and you admire the fall weather and enjoy the slight warmth from the sun as it kisses your face. When you’re on the third lap you decide to ask a question that’s been on your mind since yesterday when Nancy showed up at the funeral home.
“Do you really believe Will is alive?”
Jonathan thinks the question over for a moment, and as he’s lost in thought you notice that he begins gently swinging your hands back and forth absentmindedly. “I can still feel him.”
“Feel him?”
“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but…”
“No, I think I get it. I mean, I’d be able to feel if something bad happened to Dustin. I know I’d be able to, even if there’s not necessarily a science behind it. It’s like there’s a lifeline connecting us, like some unspoken sibling thread that neither one of us can sever.”
“A sibling thread?” Jonathan asks, a slight laugh accompanying his question.
“Oh, you know what I mean, bee.”
“No, no. I wanna hear all about this thread theory of yours.”
Jonathan’s bright mood is back, reminiscent of the boy you once believed you knew better than you knew yourself, so you entertain his teasing if only to sustain his light a little longer. “If I explain this theory you have to promise not to laugh at me.”
“I promise,” he says and he gives your hand a light squeeze.
“Alright, but if you decide I’m insane after this, just know that you legally cannot leave me. You signed a contract.”
“Oh, did I?”
“You sure did, bee. Anyways, back to me,” a slight breeze surrounds you for a moment and you let the crisp air fill your lungs. “I have this theory that we’re all connected to each other in some way by different threads. Some threads are older than others, stronger, or maybe even more rigid, but they’re there. Whether it’s a thread between you and your family, the love of your life, or a stranger you happen to pass on the street one day, none of it happens by accident.”
“The threads are the reason it all happens?”
“Not necessarily, but yeah. To put it simply, I guess you could say that.”
“So, for our thread,” Jonathan stops walking and tugs at you to stop as well. “After everything we’ve been through, all that we’ve done for one another, what thread would you say our’s is?”
His question catches you off guard; you can hear your heart beating within your chest. There’s so many things you wish you could tell him.
Our thread is one of romance, of lovers, of soulmates, even.
The feelings build within you and the words threaten to spill out. The November sun is beginning to set and everything is golden in its light and Jonathan is a part of it all. His brown eyes are like warm honey on a cold winter morning and his hair is slightly ruffled from the wind that leaves his cheeks flushed and rosy.
“Our thread,” your voice catches in your throat for a moment. “You know what our thread is, bee.”
He pulls you closer to him and in this moment all you can focus on are the slight freckles that dot across his face and neck. “Do I?”
Jonathan has never, ever looked at you like this before. There’s an intensity within his eyes that frightens you and leaves you feeling bare before him. Does he know? Has he figured it all out?
“I…” You can’t form the words you want to say; the three words that have been weighing upon you feel even heavier than before. They’re thick on your tongue, syrupy and dense and you feel as if you can’t breathe.
“Y/N?” He whispers, but you can only shake your head.
It’s too much. It’s all too much.
And then suddenly Jonathan leans in.
Maybe you’re imagining it.
Maybe you’re delirious after almost a week of sleepless nights and exhausting encounters.
Or maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way about you.
You lean in as well and allow yourself to close your eyes; you believe that just this once you can be selfish and accept more than you may deserve.
“Hey! Guys!”
Nancy’s shout causes you and Jonathan to spring apart.
You want to scream.
Of course it’s Nancy fucking Wheeler.
Jonathan drops your hand and waves the girl over while you stand there, trying to collect yourself. As she walks over, you have just enough pride left over to say, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”
The question is one Jonathan isn’t expecting. He steps back a bit, now even more aware of the close proximity the two of you had only seconds ago. “Of course I do, bug. You’re my best friend.”
Best friend.
The words hurt more than they should, really.
“Right. Best friend, ha.” You step even further away from Jonathan, which he raises his eyebrows at.
“Did I miss something or…?”
If you had the time, you’d ask him why he wanted to know about the thread between the two of you. Why he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the entire room. Why, just minutes ago, he leaned in as if to kiss you.
But Nancy is now only a couple feet away and it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to give the two of you some privacy. You spot the bat in her hand and it serves as a reminder of what the three of you are here for in the first place.
Will, Barb, the monster.
“No, of course not,” you clear your throat and greet Nancy as she arrives. “Hey, Nancy.”
She smiles at you and then says hello to Jonathan. “Hey, where’s the gun?”
You point over to the cans and the tree stumps. “Over there, we just wanted to go for a little walk after shooting a few rounds.”
Nancy nods and walks over to inspect the undamaged cans. “You said you already shot a few rounds?”
Jonathan ducks his head down. “Yeah, well. It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.”
“Y/N, did you try shooting?”
“Pfft, I’m definitely not a weapons kind of girl. I prefer to use my crippling good looks instead.”
While you and Nancy talk, Jonathan walks back over to the gun and reloads it. He motions for the two of you to step back and he shoots a few more times. Not once does he hit the can. You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh.
“You’re awful at this, bee.”
“Yeah,” Nancy agrees.
Jonathan looks over at her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”
She scoffs. “Have you met my parents?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Wheeler seems like the type to have a hidden gun.” You say, and Nancy waves you off.
“Well, I haven’t shot one since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday and made me kill a rabbit.” Jonathan’s words make you frown. Every day he gives you another reason to hate Lonnie.
Nancy sympathizes with Jonathan and the two of them fall into an easy banter that you’ve never seen before with him. He’s comfortable around her in a way that makes your stomach twist. He tells her about his parents and how they may have loved each other at one point but now no longer do. He’s opening up to her after only a few days of really knowing her.
Lovely.
Nancy shares some details about her own family and how she believes her parents never loved each other, which you can relate to. You watch as Jonathan hands her the gun as she explains how her mom had been younger than her father. “He had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of a cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”
“Isn’t it funny how the fathers never seem to suffer the same fate as the mothers?” You ask, and Nancy looks over at you in confusion, so you explain further. “My own parents, they were like yours except the moment my mom was no longer young, my dad left. Found a newer and cheaper model back home in Virginia.”
“I didn’t know that, I’m sorry Y/N.”
You shrug. “It’s not like I go and advertise it. Besides, he was an asshole anyways and my mom is better off without him. She’s the sweetest woman in the world who was forced to run back to her family in Hawkins. Nuclear families aren’t all they’re cracked out to be.”
Jonathan ruffles your hair to get you to laugh, which he succeeds in doing. “Screw that.”
Nancy raises the gun to eye level and closes one of her eyes, her beautiful face now scrunched in concentration. “Yeah, screw that.”
And with that, she shoots a perfectly aimed shot and knocks the can off the stump. You and Jonathan look at her, stunned, but she can only laugh.
“Damn, Jonathan. Remind me to never piss Nancy off.” You say, still staring at the fallen can.
Only he doesn’t hear what you’ve said because he’s too busy staring at Nancy. You can tell he’s impressed by her hidden shooting talent and the way she holds herself with such confidence. His eyes shine as he stares at her and he almost seems to come to life whenever she looks back at him.
Jonathan looks at Nancy and you know he sees what everyone in Hawkins sees: a beautiful, fierce, and incredible girl.
Nancy Wheeler, the perfect enigma.
Suddenly it clicks.
Jonathan is in love with her, or at least he’s beginning to fall in love with her.
You want to hate her. Afterall, she already has Harrington head over heels for her, and yet you can’t blame either one of the boys. She’s perfect and brilliant and everything you’re not. You’d fall in love with her too if you weren’t already in love with someone else.
You watch as Nancy and Jonathan become lost in their own little world, him helping her reload the gun as she flashes him a shy smile, and you no longer exist near their presence. It feels like a fucking stab to your already open wound of a heart. You watch the way he ducks his head down whenever she looks at him and the way she stares at him when he isn’t looking.
Nancy shoots a few more rounds and each shot feels like a hammer coming down onto your own coffin. Each time Jonathan looks at her you feel another nail enter.
Clearly there’s no room for you here.
Which is fucking ironic given that you’re in a giant field outside.
You reach for Jonathan’s hand and tug him forward. He gives you a look as if asking is everything okay? and you wish more than ever that things were different between the two of you. You give him a soft shake of the head. “I can feel a headache coming on and I just remembered that I have a shift tonight, so I should get going.”
He frowns. “But what about the monster? We can’t look for him without you.”
“You’ll be fine without me,” to your horror you can feel tears forming, which you quickly wipe away before Jonathan can notice. “I doubt I’d be any help, anyways. I suck with guns. Nancy’s the professional here.”
“I mean, I guess, but…” He looks over at Nancy, who is busy firing the gun and hitting every target she aims for, before pulling you even closer to him. “Are we okay? I feel like, I don’t know… like I’m losing you.”
Your breath catches in your throat. He could never, ever lose you, but if you don’t leave now then you’re afraid that maybe you’ll lose yourself.
“Don’t be silly, bee. You’re not losing me, no matter how much you may want me to.” You try to tease him, but your heart isn’t in it.
“You didn’t answer my question, Y/N. Are we okay?” He’s looking at you with so much adoration and concern in his eyes that it almost makes you sick.
“Of course we are. I promise. I think it’s all just catching up to me, if I’m being honest. Between finding Will and tracking down my own brother, I think this monster hunting business may break me.”
Jonathan eyes you for a moment as if to try and catch you in a lie, but while you’re only telling him this as an excuse to get away from him and Nancy, it’s not technically a lie. You are exhausted. Plus, you really do have a shift.
The boy scans your face once more before deciding that you’re telling the truth. You know he suspects there’s something else behind your words, but thankfully he doesn’t pry. “Let me tell Nance that I’m driving you home,”
And there it is again.
Nance.
The nickname is like a punch to your gut and only solidifies that you should go. “It’s okay, bee. It’s still nice out, figured I’d walk home and get some sun before winter officially takes over Hawkins.”
“You can’t expect me to let you walk alone now that we know there’s a monster out there taking people, bug.”
You kiss his cheek, letting your lips linger for a little longer than necessary. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Stay with Nancy and call me tonight after you guys are done scouting around. We’ll figure out where to go from there. Okay?”
You don’t give Jonathan time to argue because you pull away and inform Nancy of your departure. She also frowns at the idea but has already learned that you’re not one to be told what to do. She understands this aspect of you, and you understand it within her as well, so she wishes you goodbye and tells you to stay safe before going back to shooting.
As you leave, you feel Jonathan’s eyes follow after you.
–
The walk ends up being more than enough to clear your head. You haven’t had any time to be alone in god knows how long, so it’s nice to have some time to just think and enjoy the quiet. There’s a lot you need to think about, but at the very forefront of your concerns are Will and El. You still have no idea how they’re connected or how the monster comes into play.
Then there’s Steve, oddly enough.
You’re not really sure why he’s in the midst of your thoughts, but there he is. Smiling at you and laughing at your jokes and telling you that you’re pretty as he instills a carefree sense within you that feels foreign to enjoy.
As his words ring through your head, you find your thoughts drifting towards Jonathan and the way he holds your hand every time you’re worried about something and the way he kisses your hair after a particularly hard day.
You’re not sure why the two boys almost seem to clash within your mind, but you don’t have time to look into it. Your shift starts soon and god knows how long your coworker Alex can survive on his own if you’re late.
Work is slow as usual tonight, but you find the downtime a pleasant relief. It gives you the opportunity to skim some new books that shipped in and catch up on some Spidey storylines. In between stocking books and arranging comic displays you find yourself wondering just how true to his word Dustin stayed earlier.
Like hell those kids really stayed out of the woods.
Your question is answered as soon as you get home and find your brother crying in his room. Panic immediately swells within your chest and you run over to him.
“What’s wrong?” You check Dustin’s body for any sign of injury and he lets you as he cries, too upset to wave you away. When you’re assured that he’s okay, you feel your heartbeat calm down again.
Christ, everytime you see this kid he takes ten damn years off of your life.
You pull a chair from his desk and sit in front of him. “Dustin, do we need to have another code blue?”
“Maybe,” Dustin sniffles, wiping away a few tears.
“Okay, then code blue. What happened? Is everyone okay? Is it El?” At the mention of the girl’s name, Dustin flinches. Your blood runs cold. “Dustin, what happened with El?”
“You won’t yell at me?”
You smooth down his always wild hair. “Never during code blue. Please talk to me, bud.”
Dustin explains how he and the group had gone looking for the gate like they told you they would. He explained how they’d followed the train tracks throughout Hawkins for what seemed like hours.
“The train tracks that go through the same woods I told you not to go in?”
“Like hell we were gonna listen to you.”
“Yeah, I know.”
This gets Dustin to laugh a bit, which you’re relieved to see, before he continues his story. When he reveals El’s weird behavior and the way she seemed to be hiding something from them, you feel dread creep in. “Did she… Did she do something to prevent you guys from finding the gate?”
“She used her powers to mess with the compass. Lucas found the blood on her jacket.”
You sense that there’s more. “And then?”
“Mike and Lucas… they-they started fighting.” Dustin’s voice breaks, “they started really going at it, and I tried to stop them. I swear I tried, Y/N!”
“Shh,” you reach for his hand to try and calm him down. “I know you did, but I also know how Mike can get when he’s protective of someone and I know that Lucas isn’t El’s biggest fan. It was a recipe for disaster.”
Dustin snorts, “No kidding.” Then his face darkens once more, “but they wouldn’t listen, and that’s when El screamed.”
“She screamed?”
“I think she was overwhelmed, but she used her powers on Lucas and flung him across the yard and he hit his head pretty hard…”
“She what-”
“She didn’t mean to! She looked really upset after, and Lucas was fine after he woke up-”
“He was knocked unconscious?”
“And then he stormed off and El ran off. We searched for her, but…”
You stare at your brother in shock. That definitely hadn’t been what you were expecting. El never struck you as a violent girl, but she knocked Lucas out with her mind. Sure, she may have been trying to break up the fight, but you’re willing to bet that she lost control for a moment and Lucas ended up getting hurt as a result.
Maybe you don’t want superpowers.
“Y/N, have I lost all my friends?” Dustin asks.
You shush him once more. “No, of course not. You three boys have always been so drastically different from one another, and this week has been one from pure hell. It makes sense that Lucas and Mike finally snapped, but I promise you that they’ll bounce back eventually.”
“And El?”
“I’m not sure what to make of her,” you admit. “She isn’t violent, I know she’s not. But we also clearly don’t know her as well as we think we do. I just, I need you to be careful around her, okay? Fight for her, defend her like you would for the boys, but be cautious as well.”
“Cautious, got it.” He cocks his head at you, “but what about Lucas and Mike? They’re still friends, right?”
“Of course they are. Just… sometimes friendship can be hard, but it’s almost always worth fighting for. It’s rare to find friends as loyal as Mike or as brave as Lucas or even as sincere as Will. Yet look at you guys, all together; you’re all incredibly lucky to have one another.”
“Lucky like you and Jonathan?” Dustin asks, a sly glint in his eyes.
You smile, even if he’s teasing you. “Yeah, like me and Jonathan.”
Dustin returns your smile and you squeeze his hand. “Anyways, I say give Lucas some time to calm down. I think he was scared, more than anything. Tomorrow you can try to talk to him again.”
Your brother nods at your words and he seems better than he did when you first started the conversation, so you open your arms wide and engulf him into a hug.
“Code blue concluded, I guess.” Dustin mumbles against your chest, which causes the two of you to laugh.
–
After your talk with Dustin, you head back to your room and wait for Jonathan to call. You glance at the clock and figure that maybe him and Nancy were still out scouting for clues, so you busy yourself with some homework.
When it nears ten at night and the phone still hasn’t rung, you sigh and reach over for the phone on your desk. You dial Jonathan’s number and hope he simply forgot to call, but when no one answers after your fifth time calling: you begin to worry.
Ya know, maybe it wasn’t your best idea letting him and Nancy go off alone with a monster on the loose.
You find yourself frantically biking to the Wheeler’s house before you can even think about it. The night blurs past you and as you walk up their driveway and try to rest your bike against their mailbox, a familiar BMW parks next to you.
“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Henderson.” Steve says as he sends you a wink.
You almost greet the boy before Tommy’s head pops out from the passenger side window. “Hey good lookin.”
You hear Carol berate him and the two begin to bicker as Steve gets out of the car.
Great. He brought the idiots.
Steve walks over and takes your bike from your hands. After a couple seconds of repositioning and balancing, he finally manages to get the bike to stay upright. “Tada!”
“I almost had it,” you glare at him.
“Sure ya did.”
Steve’s presence is frustrating as always, but you spot Jonathan’s car parked down the street and Carol’s shrill voice becomes increasingly irritating. You don’t have time for this right now. “What are you doing here, Harrington?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” When you glare at him, he finally says, “Nancy promised she’d call me but hasn’t, so I wanted to check on her.”
His sincerity is why you say, “I’m here for…” You realize you can’t necessarily tell Steve about Jonathan possibly being here. You have a feeling it wouldn’t end well, but you’re also not keen on lying to the boy. You’re already keeping secrets from practically everyone in your life; you don’t want to add Steve to the list. Not when he doesn’t deserve it.
“I’m looking for Jonathan,” you confess, worried about Steve’s reaction.
He frowns. “Why would Byers be here?”
“Him and Nancy have this… thing for english. Due tomorrow. A big thing. Like, huge. So they’re working on it together. In the house. Where Nancy lives. Here.” You stumble over your words, more nervous than usual, but you weren’t expecting Steve to be here or that you’d need a cover story.
“Uh huh,” something almost aggressive flickers across Steve’s face and you silently curse to yourself. You said the wrong thing.
“Funny, Nancy told me she was only helping Byers for the funeral.”
Shit.
Tommy and Carol watch from the car, obviously amused by the whole situation.
“Right! She was, now she’s working on an assignment with him.” Technically not a lie, you’re just omitting the fact that the assignment in question is monster hunting.
“You’re really bad at lying, Henderson.” Steve walks past you, now over the conversation, and you struggle to keep up. You try to block his path, assuming that he’ll use the front door, but as you near the front step he side steps you and starts heading towards the bushes.
“What are you doing?” You whisper loudly, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself.
Steve ignores your whispered yelling and jumps on top of the radiator. Once he’s up, he begins to pull himself over the overhang and up onto the roof. There’s a window just above the ledge with a light on, which you presume to be Nancy’s room due to the practiced ease in which Steve scaled the house.
You don’t try to climb up after him in fear that you’ll only end up embarrassing yourself. “Ya know, Mrs. Wheeler loves me, I could’ve just knocked on the door.”
Steve peers down at you, an easygoing smile now back on his face. “Relax, this is quicker. Besides, you gotta admit it was impressive to watch.”
Again he winks at you and you feel your cheeks flush. He’s right, it had been impressive to watch; he had made it look so easy. While you struggle to come up with a witty retort, Steve almost knocks on Nancy’s window before his smile drops.
You notice the way his face hardens. “Steve?”
He doesn’t respond, which only concerns you more. You begin to think about the millions of possibilities surrounding Nancy, Jonathan, and monster hunting; fear creeps in. “Is Nancy there? Is she okay?”
“Of course you’d be worried about Nancy right now,” Steve laughs bitterly. You frown at his words, unsure what they mean, but before you can ask anything else Steve angrily climbs back down.
“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?”
Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?”
“Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend.
Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”
A wave of nausea hits you.
“W-what?” You drop your hand and release his jacket.
“It’s incredible, really. Byers has some fucking nerve.” Steve runs a hand through his hair in agitation and begins to pace. You’re too numb to stop him. “I mean, look at you! He has everything he could possibly want, but he decides to go after my girlfriend.”
“It’s not like that-”
“Did he tell you they’d be in her room, alone in her bed, underneath her blanket?”
More nausea hits you. “No,”
They were supposed to look for any signs of the monster in the woods. That’s all he told me, you think.
“So he’s a liar, too.” Steve scoffs, “you deserve better, Y/N.”
And with that, he heads back to his car and drives away, leaving you standing alone once more in the Wheeler’s driveway. You get a sense of deja-vu, watching Steve’s BMW descend down the street, but only this time there’s no warmth fluttering within your stomach as he leaves.
All you feel is nausea.
You don’t remember the bike ride home; you’re not sure how you even made it back safely without crashing into anything. All you remember is that you cried the entire way.
You’ve lost Jonathan, there’s no denying that now. He’s Nancy’s, wholly and truly, he’s hers.
He was never yours in the first place, you remind yourself.
But if he was never yours in the first place, then why does it feel like you were almost something?
No.
You don’t want to think about it that way.
Yours or not, you can’t afford to lose Jonathan.
Something or everything, you’ll take whatever you can when it comes to him.
Everything, anything, nothing. Whatever he gives you, you know you’ll cling onto it with all that’s within you.
But your friendship with Jonathan is too precious to lose, too meaningful to let stupid feelings ruin it. You refuse to let anything come between your friendship with him, and you swear to yourself to shove everything down. Every hurt feeling, all the pain stabbing within your chest, you force it all down to focus on finding Will.
He’s all that matters right now, even if it feels like the thread connecting you to Jonathan has begun to wither.
Will has to come first.
You have to find him, something good and lovely has to come from this. You can’t let this all be for nothing.
-
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#steve harrington x henderson!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things rewrite#slowburn#angst#wdtai#m's writing#jonathan the man that u are ....#and steve my beloved#cannot wait to see how yall react to the field scene i feel like an evil villain
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so how did someone older jk and oc celebrate new years? A midnight kiss?? :)))
Warning for suggestive stuff? It's not quite new years celebration but I honestly started to drift off way too much for a drabble haha
"Oh no!" You gasp out, earning Jungkook's immediate attention as he looks towards where you're standing in his kitchen.
"What's wrong?" He asks, while you hide your face behind your hands. "Darling?" He questions, as he gets up to walk towards you, a letter opened on the counter.
"Oh god I'm so sorry-" you tell him, visibly shaken. "I'm really sorry, I don't know why I- I think I thought I was home and opened it-" you rambles, hands shaking. "I didn't even read it, I swear, it was just-"
"Darling, hey, look at me." He tells you, turning you away from the scene of the crime to instead fully face him, hands on your shoulders. "You're fine." He states, makes sure to emphasize, as you go through the same steps you both go through every time things like these happen.
Breathe. This is Jungkook. Nothing is going to happen.
"There we go." He chuckles, squeezing your shoulders for a split second before he lets go. "What is it about?" He wonders easily, taking the letter to read it.
"I.. I don't know." You mumble, still ashamed. "I just.. read the first line and realized that it's not addressed to me- I really don't know why I even opened it-" You again state in defense, but his hand reaches out to pull you closer holding you gently by your waist.
"Its about that new year's celebration. I told them I wouldn't go this year.." he simply sighs, before he throws the letter and envelope away. "And it's understandable. You've been spending quite a lot of time here recently- I'll take it as a compliment that you feel like this is home." He jokes easily, hands on your hips as he grins at you.
"Why- if there's an event you're invited to you should go though?" You ask, but he shakes his head.
"I want to spend it with you." He answers. "Except if you'd like to go with me to that event?" He asks, moving your hair out of your face.
"I.. uhm.. would that even be.. appropriate?" You ask quietly. "Given.. you know. The age difference and all.." you worry, but he shakes his head.
"Its not an issue to me at all, if that's what worries you." He shrugs. "We're both adults. And trust me- our age difference wouldn't be the biggest. One of the investors has a wife almost twenty-five years younger!" He laughs. "Or does it bother you?"
"No, not.. anymore." You admit. "It used to. It felt.. a little intimidating. Sometimes it still does but not as much." You explain.
"I'm glad then." He hums towards you. "So?" He questions. "If you'd like to go, we can. I usually don't like events like these, but if you're there I'd go in a heartbeat." He flirts without realizing it.
"I don't even have.. proper attire. I bet those things are super fancy.." you worry, but he just grins.
"I mean, we still got time. I could call up someone, his wife owns a clothing label, we could go and get something fit for you." He shrugs easily.
"Jungkook, no way!" You gasp. "That.. already sounds way too expensive." You worry.
"Not really. I can just tell her to not mention any cost and you'd never know." He impishly grins, as your back rests against the kitchen counter. "Though.. I'd honestly rather take your.. measurements myself." He purrs, leaning in for a teasing peck.
"I'm just.. that's not.." you stammer, easily overpowered by his recently growing confidence in his pursuit of you. Its clear that he's starting to become comfortable with you to the point of feeling confident in his actions, even in how he reassures you whenever you tend to fall back into old fears.
"Oh but it is. I know exactly what she'd need for a pretty dress." He hums. "And while I already think I know your body like my own.."
"I think I need to make sure I got the measurements correct."
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagine#bts jungkook imagine#bts smut#bts jungkook fanfic
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one bed? - featuring the aot boys
today, we have: jean, bertholdt, and reiner
in which: there's only one bed? lmao have fun! note that in reiner's part, you are a warrior that escaped back to marley with reiner after the shiganshina arc.
warnings: none. i have extreme paranoia when it comes to me writing smut, so you will not see some from me until i get better (i am literally touch-starved, so i feel like anything i write will be cringe)!
author's note: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know what to write next. i'm literally out of ideas. either in the comments, or in my messages. i will appreciate ANYTHING.
jean
"alright everyone," hange says, "go to your respective rooms. we'll meet back up in the morning and explore some more!" she turns to leave with onyankopon and levi who were staying in a nearby hotel as to not draw too much attention.
you look around for jean, sasha, and connie who were also staying in this hotel with you. as soon as you went to grab sasha to room with, connie swooped in, and the two were so excited that they were going to have a "sleepover". you heave a small sigh.
"don't sound too disappointed." jean says, giving you a small smile. "sad you're stuck with me tonight?"
"never." you say, bumping your shoulder with his. "it will just be much harder to keep an eye on those two." jean's smile slowly slides off his face.
"oh yeah." not much you can do about it now. you grab jean's hand and pull him to go find your room.
"this is actually so interesting, being in marley. i can't believe they have actual cars!" you say excitedly, smiling while looking out the window. you couldn't believe how advanced this place is.
"you sound like hange now! keep it down before your dumbass gets us caught." you give jean a little smack.
"oh shut up." the two of you finally reach the room, and as jean opens the door, he stops halfway into the room.
"hey! get out of my way, horse-face!" jean turns to look at you, his face a little red.
"i think they gave us the wrong room." confused, you look around jean to see there is only one bed in the entire room.
"oh." the thought of spending the night with your best friend in the same bed also made you a little pink. much to your relief, jean didn't see because he was too busy hurrying to use the bathroom. in reality, he was trying to calm himself down, but you didn't know that.
your stomach was swirling as jean finally came out of the bathroom, his face wet, like he had washed it. you had to look away. of course you were nervous. you've had a crush on the man for quite a while now. but you'd rather die than admit that.
an awkward, uncomfortable silence blanketed the room. until jean spoke up. "I honestly think we should just share it. it's pretty big. and we've grown up together. it won't be awkward."
that's a relief. "yeah. as long as your big horse feet won't kick me in the middle of the night."
"hey! my feet are normal shaped!" you giggle, the previous tension gone. "yeah yeah."
the two of you chat a little bit before calling it a night. you tuck yourself under the covers, turning your back to jean. "i hope you don't snore."
"guess you'll find out tonight." the two of you try sleeping, and for a few hours, it was successful. until the room got incredibly cold. you shuffle closer to jean, but it wasn't helping all that much. you turn around, facing jean, who looked fast asleep.
"hey." silence. "hey!" nothing. so you start poking his face, and he flinches. "what?" now you're embarrassed.
"nevermind."
"oh no. you didn’t wake me up for nothing." he pokes your face. "what do you want?"
"can you hold me?"
"what?!"
"i'm cold!"
"oh. alright then, come here."
"really?"
"yes, y/n. now hurry up." so you weasel your way into his arms, sinking into his chest. he is so warm.
and in the morning, when he wakes up before you, he'll let you sleep, with your leg around his waist and his arms around you. maybe he will finally work up the courage to ask you out.
bertholdt
you were shaken. of course you were, you were kidnapped. the last thing you remember is walking away with armin on the wall, and you could faintly hear hange talking to moblit about titans that could dig. but you wake up on a tree, in the forest which was surrounded by titans. you see ymir awake, scowling at two men up on higher trees. is that eren over there? you have to blink because it's so bright, but when it finally comes into focus, you realize it's reiner and bertholdt. oh yeah. the traitors. you start breathing heavily, thinking about how it's your lover up there. ymir tries to calm you down, her eyes wide, but it doesn't work. how could he do this to you. was everything fake? were your friends still alive. why were you here? you start feeling faint, and feel hot tears pooling at your eyes. you faintly hear the screeching of odm gear coming closer, and you hear bertholdt talking to ymir, but it's too late, and you pass out once again.
when you awaken a second time, it's night. you have to adjust your eyes to try to figure out where you are. but all you see are stars. you're on the wall. you feel a hand on your shoulder.
"y/n?" you turn your head without moving your body and see him. bertholdt, who's eyes are red and swollen. you reach your hand up to hold his face but then think better of it. you let your hand fall.
"i'm so sorry. y/n, i'm so sor-"
"bertholdt!" you recognize reiner's voice and lift your body up, with his hand on your back. you shove his hand away, ignoring the hurt look on his face. you see reiner and ymir coming your way. while bertholdt and reiner whisper to each other, ymir comes to check on you.
"are you alright?" you shrug. which earns a sad smirk from ymir. shortly after, bertholdt returns to kneeling next to you, but not saying anything. after a while, you find your voice.
you turn your head to bertholdt and ask, "how did i get here?" he flinches at your strained tone, but softly explains what happened while reiner and ymir set up sleeping bags they found in the district below. you also find out the truth about bertholdt's background. about him being from marley, his mission, why he decided to become a warrior. he explained about his sick father and the oppression he received just because he was eldian.
and suddenly, your heart was conflicted. there was life outside of the walls. but they weren't free. they had the same blood you did, and they were being tortured for it. but they killed so many innocent people from inside the walls. those people didn't know what they were dying for. they didn't deserve to die. you wanted to yell and scream at him, but you also wanted to comfort him. so you cried. you cried and cried and fell into him because you were weak, and despite hating him for all he had done, you loved him. and he held you as you cried, and eventually he started crying with you. so the two of you cried until there were no tears left. in the silence left behind, you whispered to him, "take me with you. take me home with you." too weak to argue, he agreed. he placed a soft kiss on your forehead and wiped away your tears.
"ok."
what felt like hours later, reiner came to drop off the sleeping bag.
"i'm sorry, but we could only find three." while bertholdt starting insisting you take it, you just stand up and take the sleeping back from reiner, giving the man a hug, which surprised him.
"thank you. one is enough. we can share." and so you did.
you held onto his long ass body and just held each other, oozing comfort the both of you needed.
reiner
while porco and pieck were mocking him from behind, you were at his side, giggling at his little pout. you intertwined your arm with his and put your head on his shoulder, causing the two goons to laugh and mock even more. but the two of you didn't care. you guys were considered pretty close before, but after returning from paradise, the two of you were inseparable. the two of you walked along the festival, reiner occasionally having to stop to pay for gabi and the others, but never separating from you.
"oh, reiner!" pieck says, "don't forget about the meeting we have tomorrow." the both of you sigh.
"we haven't forgotten pieck," he replies. you detach yourself from reiner when you see porco beckoning to you. while reiner and pieck chatted, you were able to talk a bit with porco. the two of you wandered for a bit before reiner came to pull you away, looking a bit jealous, which porco wouldn't let him live down.
the two of you follow the children around until they get too tired and full from all the festival food. while reiner is dragging gabi around, the two of you talk about the trek you will have to make for the meeting.
"we should rent a hotel room. that way we won't have to get up too early tomorrow to travel."
"good idea!" so after dropping off the children at their respective homes, the two of you hitch a ride to the hotel nearest to HQ where the meeting was taking place. when the two of you check in, you only ask for one room, but two separate beds.
however, when the two of you went to go to sleep, there was only one bed. although, it didn't bother you two that much, as the two of you often slept over together.
so when it was time for bed, the two of you crawled in together, immediately cuddling together. you lay your head on his chest and he holds you. this was how you often found comfort when the two of you first got back from the island, often crying about bertholdt, annie, and the comrades you considered friends. and the two of you haven't stopped this little routine, even years later.
but this time felt a little different. reiner was holding you more tightly than usual. but you couldn't bring yourself to ask why because you were too tired. as you were falling asleep, you hear him whisper, "I love you." not that you would know this, but he had been telling you this for a long time when you were sleeping. so it quite surprise to him when you opened your eyes and smiled.
"I love you too." you slowly press a kiss to his lips and he graciously returns it.
author's note (again): will there be a part two? idk yet. let me know if y'all want one in the comments section. (and i know you saw my author's note up top. *suspicious side eye* you better tell me what to write next)
#eren yeager x reader#eren jaeger x reader#eren x reader#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirschstein x reader#jean kirschtein x reader#jean x reader#bertoldt hoover x reader#bertholdt hoover x reader#bertholdt x reader#bertolt x reader#bertolt hoover x reader#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan#aot#reiner fluff#reiner headcanons#reiner braun x reader#reiner x reader#snk reiner#reiner braun fluff#reiner x y/n
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On My Own / Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Summary: After your encounter with Rafe, you are understandably shaken up. JJ comforts you and vows to keep you safe.
Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, abusive and manipulative Rafe, lmk if I missed anything.
Author's note: I am so so sorry for how long this has taken, I've had so many requests and life has taken a few rough turns so I've been quite behind with everything. I am so grateful for your patience and understanding, much love! 😘☺️ Thank you so much for reading, please enjoy! Liking, reblogging, and commenting really helps me out! 😁
Word count: 1.4k
You sigh as you sit curled up with a thin blanket around your legs and waist, a hot cup of tea in hand that JJ had made to comfort you. Your hand is on your stomach, stroking absentmindedly at the clothed skin of your stomach. JJ sat closely in front of you, your knees touching and his hand stroking your leg closest to him. You had managed to stop crying a little while ago, it had been an hour since Rafe came over uninvited. You were honestly so fed up with Rafe trying to control your life, he didn't want anything to do with you or this baby and yet he couldn't stand the thought of someone else wanting you? What kind of bullshit was that?
JJ agreed that he would stay with you for the night, you didn't want to be a pain and ask but you also didn't want to be by yourself tonight. Luckily JJ offered without you having to ask, he offered, saying he would feel better if he was there. You were so thankful for your best friend, you didn't know what you would do without him. JJ looked over at you with concern, "you okay, sweetheart?" he questioned with worry, his eyebrows furrowed at you. You smile at him, reaching over to squeeze his free hand in comfort. "I'm fine, just exhausted." You huff in exhaustion, tiredness taking over your features.
"We can go to bed if you want to?" he asks sweetly, rubbing your hand tenderly before intertwining your fingers. You shake your head with a tired smile, "No, not that kind of tired. I'm physically exhausted, not just because of the pregnancy but Rafe also. He creates problems upon problems constantly. I just want him to go away and leave me alone for good." You groan, rubbing your forehead in frustration. JJ hums with a nod, "I get you. He's being such a prick and I don't know why but nothing Rafe does makes sense so y'know." he shrugs, rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. You huff with a laugh, "Absolutely. He just does whatever he wants without consequence no matter who he hurts along the way. What I saw in him I don't know." You roll your eyes at your own stupidity. You had loved him, but it was quickly wearing off with the need to protect your baby.
JJ watches as you go quiet for a moment, looking down at your stomach with sadness as you rub the area. "I... Just wish I could have had this baby with literally anyone else. I wouldn't change them for the world but I just their father wasn't Rafe, y'know?" JJ nods understanding, squeezing your hand tighter. You smile to yourself at your thought process, "If I could have chosen, I would have chosen you. You'd make a great father, contrary to your belief because of yours." You swear you see JJ's cheeks go pink, he places his free hand on your stomach to feel the baby. "You really think so?" he asks unsurely, a flash of insecurity on his face. You frown with a nod, grabbing his face with your free hand, and rubbing his cheek with your thumb lovingly.
He leans instantly into your touch as if he craved the feel of you and it made your heart melt. You both stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the innocent feel of one another's skin and presence. It honestly seemed like you both needed some comfort, affection and love right now. You knew now that this is what it felt like to truly be loved by someone, even if JJ only saw you as a friend, this is what true real love was. The way he stared at you with so much love and care was making your chest feel heavy and your heart skips a beat, this felt different. Maybe in another life, JJ would have been the one, your perfect man but at last, in this lifetime he is not.
By the time you both headed to bed, it was well past 11 pm, almost midnight. You were both exhausted as you pulled the couch out and turned it into a couch bed, neither bothering to head upstairs. Your parents were away on vacation for a while so no stress there thankfully. You grabbed your favourite blanket and pulled it over the pair of you as you snuggled into JJ, making sure your belly was not being lent on. JJ let you use him as an anchor to lean on, I mean he wasn't complaining because he got to snuggle you either way. You both fell asleep fairly quietly, today was too stressful.
-
You woke up to the sound of talking, three voices you recognised. JJ, Sarah and John B. You honestly didn't feel like getting up or talking to anyone yet so you pretended to still be asleep. You and JJ were still cuddled up on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around you and his chin snuggled into the top of your head. "Here bro." You felt JJ stretch as slowly as possible, obviously trying to not wake you up like a sweetheart. "Thanks, you are a lifesaver." JJ thanks John B gratefully before settling back in place with one less arm around you.
You were about to "wake up" when you heard John B ask how you were, you stayed put. You were curious. Plus JJ's hand drawing aimless soft circles on your arm was really nice, so lying there still wasn't hard. JJ sighed, "she was really shaken up last night after Rafe came here. I wish I could have been there when he showed up, maybe if I had been thirty minutes quicker-" John B interrupted JJ, "Mate, you didn't know and you know how unpredictable Rafe is. You couldn't have known okay? Plus, you know she would never blame you." JJ hummed thoughtfully but nodded in agreement, he stretched to, assumably, put his coffee down.
"I'm going to make breakfast, okay? She'll be hungry when she wakes up." Sarah voiced, the sound of shuffling and footsteps following. You feel JJ pull you closer, gently so as to not hurt or put pressure on your belly, and place a tender hand on your stomach. You feel JJ place a soft kiss on your head as John B speaks, "Bro have you still not told her how you feel?" This perks your interest, did he mean you? JJ turned his face to presumably face John B, "I can't. She's one of my best friends, not to mention pregnant with another man's baby. Isn't exactly the right time, is it?" JJ remarked sarcastically, you could imagine he would be rolling his eyes right now with a frown on his beautiful face.
You opened your eyes to peek and unfortunately, John B was staring directly at your face, JJ was looking past you both. John B winked at you with a small knowing smirk before answering JJ, "When if not now? No time is better than the present. You'll only end up regretting it if you don't. You never know, she may feel the same." You feel JJ's grip on you tighten slightly as he speaks, "She actually told me last night that if she could have chosen the father of her baby, she would have chosen me. Me, dude." He honestly sounded so happy that you couldn't help but smile happily. John B smirked like a knowing idiot at you both, "Sounds like you already have your answer."
You pretend to wake up, and you take a large stretch. "Morning beautiful," JJ says with a smile, looking down at you curled into his side like a cat. You smile up at him happily and place a kiss on his cheek, "Hi handsome." You greet in return, JJ stretches across to grab his coffee as Sarah asks for his help to plate up. JJ kisses your head and gets up to help her, all while John B stares at you with a knowing smirk. You wait until JJ moves over to the kitchen and then throws a pillow from next to you at John B, he laughs and catches it effortlessly. "Real smooth," Sarah calls for you both for breakfast, the smell of waffles and bacon filling your senses. John B stands, crossing over to stand in front of you to help you get up off the couch. "You and I are talking about this later!" He announces quietly.
Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @brooklynscherry-z @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo
Do we ship a potential relationship with our bby JJ? :D
#y/n#fluff#angst#outer banks jj#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#obx#pregnant reader
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SSR Ortho Shroud - Playful Gear Vignette
"That's super rare and amazing"
[Playful Land – Stage]
Ortho: Heheh, I got to sing and dance with everyone from Night Raven College, as well as all the other guests…
Ortho: That was the best stage show ever. I'm super glad I got to come to Playful Land!
Ortho: Now then. Time for me to check out some more places.
Ortho: I was at the game corner with Vil's group earlier, so maybe I'll get on some rides in a different area.
Lilia: Well then, how about you join us, then?
Ortho: Oh, Lilia Vanrouge-san, and Trey Clover-san!
Ortho: Thanks for inviting me to go with you. Where are you two heading now?
Trey: We're heading to the Undersea Walk area. Apparently, they make it look like you're actually at the bottom of the ocean there.
Trey: Really makes you feel like we're in a theme park, huh. Just walking through that will probably be fun.
Lilia: And of course, we're gonna find stuff to ride, as well. The one I'm looking forward to ride is the 'Whirl Bottle"!
Ortho: "Whirl Bottle"… That's one of those trackless rides. According to the park guide map…
Ortho: "This is a thrilling attraction where carriages shaped like glass bottles spin around on a revolving floor."
Ortho: "Once you climb on board, all that's left to do is to leave your fate to the ocean's tides! Careful not to become too dizzy."
Lilia: Yup. Doesn't it sound like a swell old time?
Trey: So basically, it's a teacup ride.
Trey: Back home… At the amusement park in the Queendom of Roses, just like the name says, the ride is with teacups.
Ortho: I bet that's 'cause the people in the Queendom drink tea basically every day. It's fascinating to see the differences just based on the region.
Ortho: Since the Playful Land's attractions are all based on the Wish Upon a Star story…
Ortho: Whirl Bottle must be modeled after the scene where the Wooden Puppet's teacher braved the stormy seas by using a bottle as his ship, right?
Trey: Aah… That makes sense. Now that you say it that way, I can see it now.
Lilia: I can't wait to see it in person. So let's hurry and get on to check it out ourselves!
Ortho: YEAH!
[Playful Land – Bazaar]
Lilia: ALRIGHT YOU SCALLYWAGS, TURN THE WHEEL, TURN THE WHEEL～～～
Ortho: AYE AYE SIR!! LET'S GOOO～～～!!
Trey: Both of you don't go so hard…! Urgh, I'm starting to get dizzy…
Trey: …That was a much harder ride than I was expecting. My head is still going in circles.
Ortho: Trey-san, are you alright? Did you get motion sickness from all of our spinning?
Lilia: I'm perfectly alright, but… Guess I just trained my inner ear better.
Lilia: Here ya go, I brought you water. You should take a rest on that bench yonder.
Trey: Thanks, Lilia. Once I feel a bit better, I'll go see how Ace's group is getting on and take a stroll around the park a little.
Trey: So you two go on ahead and have some fun. Go and enjoy Playful Land.
Ortho: Oh… Alright. Then we'll head on out.
Trey: Yeah, go on. Take care, have fun.
Lilia/Ortho: Yeh! / Okay!
Ortho: Trey-san said he'd be alright so we just left him there, but… Was that really okay?
Lilia: Kufufu, no need to worry about him. He said it himself, didn't he? It was just a slight bit of motion sickness.
Lilia: He's the Vice Housewarden of Heartslabyul. There's no way he's that weak of a person.
Ortho: I don't think being the Vice Housewarden of Heartslabyul really matters… But I do agree that he's not weak.
Ortho: But that ride just now…
Ortho: …Honestly, it wasn't too wild, right?
Lilia: RIGHT!? I was just thinking that it wasn't thrilling enough.
Lilia: Just as you surmised, the Whirl Bottle ride was based on the scene of the Wooden Puppet's teacher floating on the stormy seas.
Lilia: So don't you think that they should have had water splashing us, or a giant seagull attacking us during the ride?
Ortho: Absolutely! And instead of just spinning around and around, I would have loved being shaken all up and down, left and right too.
Lilia: Mhm. That would've been a great idea. There's not many rides out there that can give you the feeling of roughing it in a storm.
Ortho: But if we want to implement more random movements, we'd have to completely redesign the attraction's structure…
Ortho: Ah, but if we just adjust the program, maybe the movement and spinning could become even more random.
Ortho: It would be much more exciting to not be able to predict which way it'll move next, don't you think?
Lilia: Mhm. That's because it's just as thrilling whenever you face a foe that doesn't showcase their next move, after all.
Lilia: ...AH! ORTHO, CHECK THAT OUT!
Ortho: EH!?
[Playful Land – Bazaar]
Lilia: ...AH! ORTHO, CHECK THAT OUT!
Ortho: EH!?
Ortho: THAT!? …WAIT, WHAT THING!?
Lilia: When I say that, I of course, mean that. The ever exciting…
Lilia: GIFT SHOP!!!
Ortho: A gift shop…? Ah, I see it. They have a lot of character merchandise and sweets on display.
Ortho: It's probably a little too early to even think about going home yet… But are you thinking of looking at souvenirs already?
Lilia: Mhm. So actually, last night I tried to invite Silver and Sebek here too, but…
Lilia: Neither of them had the slightest interest in skipping school.
Lilia: Malleus had gone off somewhere on his own again, so I couldn’t find him. I wasn't able to invite him at all.
Lilia: That's why I thought I'd at least bring home some souvenirs from Playful Land for them.
Ortho: I'm sure if you got them special Playful Land merch, it'll be just like they came here with you.
Ortho: In general, the souvenir shops get crowded near closing time, so…
Ortho: The risk of the item you wanted selling out, or rushing and forgetting to buy something you wanted may increase.
Ortho: I've decided! I'll shop for souvenirs with you, Lilia-san.
Lilia: Good. Then, let's go on a little treasure hunt!
Ortho: They have chocolate crunch, cookies, and candy… They have the whole array of standard theme park fare.
Lilia: These are marshmallows, hm. I'm not really a fan, but the package is so cute that I'm seriously considering it.
Ortho: Ah! This pasta snack is made into the shapes of the Friendly Fox and Gentle Cat.
Ortho: This looks easy to eat even while gaming… I think I'll get this for my brother.
Fellow: Well, well, what a discerning eye you have, young scholar! That pasta snack is the third most popular gift here.
Gidel: … [nods]
Ortho: Fellow-san, and Gidel-san! You surprised me showing up out of the blue.
Lilia: It's usually my forte to catch others unawares, but… Looks like you've won this time.
Ortho: You said the pasta snack is the third most popular, right? So then…
Ortho: The assortment tin that had plain cookies in the shape of the Friendly Fox and cocoa cookies in the shape of the Gentle Cat must be the second popular!
Ortho: And the chocolate crunch with 12 different kinds of little charms randomly thrown in must be the first popular!
Ortho: …Is my calculated prediction, how did I do?
Fellow: Amazing deduction, young scholar, what keen insight! However… Mmm～ You're just a little off!
Fellow: You're correct about the second popular. However, the first popular is something else entirely…
Ortho: Ehhh～ I was wrong? I chose those based on the rankings of other theme parks in general, though.
Lilia: Kufufu… How naïve of you, Ortho. I knew at a single glance, you know.
Ortho: Eh, really?
Lilia: Mhm. The number one popular souvenir for Playful Land is…
Lilia: WITHOUT QUESTION, THE WHALE FIGURINE!!
Ortho: EEH!?
Lilia: Those raging waves, the violent sprays of water, and the lone figure of the fiercesome whale that opens its mouth widely to swallow everything it can!
Lilia: I'm surprised an amusement park has something of this quality. Isn't this more of a work of art?
Ortho: Hmmm… I do think it's really well made, but… Isn't think too big to even fit in one of the park's lockers?
Ortho: It looks heavy, too, and I don't think it'd be a great souvenir to want to haul home after a long and tiring day at the park.
Ortho: Besides, the scene depicted here is one of the scariest scenes in the Wish Upon a Star story.
Ortho: I can't expect this to be anywhere close to the top of the popularity rankings.
Fellow: Well now, how astounding that this figure caught your eye. You certainly know your stuff!
Fellow: This figure was made as a souvenir for those who have ridden the Expedition Whale ride.
Fellow: The whale's teeth, the waves, and the spray of the water… Everything is so meticulously added down to the smallest detail!
Lilia: As I thought. Come now, Fellow, tell us. Where on the popularity scale does this figure fall!?
Fellow: The rank of this figurine is…
Lilia/Ortho: Is…?
Fellow: Dead last.
Gidel: …
Lilia: DEAD LAST…!?
Fellow: Indeed. Rather, ever since this park opened, never has a guest actually chosen to buy this item.
Fellow: Ortho-kun hit on every possible reason. It's heavy, unwieldly, and above all, terrifying!
Fellow: It seems our pursuit of quality was our downfall. Ahh, how disastrous!
Ortho: That's what I thought… So then, what's the number one popular item?
[Playful Land – Bazaar]
Fellow: Playful Land's number one popular souvenir is… The "apple core" flavored candy.
Ortho: Apple core flavored candy! You mentioned those to us earlier.
Lilia: An apple core flavor is rather unusual. I wonder if it has its own specific tang.
Ortho: Vil-san said that the apple core flavored popcorn just tasted like regular apples…
Ortho: But if you're interested, we can go to Candy Road after this.
Lilia: Mhm. But first, I have to find proper souvenirs to bring home here.
Lilia: Oho, here's a hat that looks like the head of the Friendly Fox! And they have one of the Gentle Cat as well. I need to get both.
Lilia: I'll give these to Silver and Sebek, and for Malleus… I think the goldfish hat would be cute.
Lilia: Oh but wait, would he even be able to wear this with his horns…?
Fellow: Come now, Ortho-kun, you should also pick out something you want. Please take as much as you want home.
Ortho: Thank you! Although, both my carrying capacity and the space available in my room is limited, so I'll have to be more selective in my choices.
Ortho: My brother doesn't really tend to use stationary… Ah, but these might be good!
Fellow: This? Ah, our postcards. They're light, thin, and easy to carry around, so it's perfect.
Ortho: There's a ton of different designs, and there's even some that have a pop-up. I bet my brother would love something like this.
Ortho: It says here that we can drop them off in the mailbox in Gentle Square, but…
Ortho: If I write the address and drop it in the mailbox, will it really reach Night Raven College?
Fellow: Why, yes. It should reach your school in a few days. In addition, it'll come with a special stamp.
Ortho: A special Playful Land stamp! That's super rare and amazing.
Ortho: It'll be a nice little surprise for it to show up in a few days… I think I'll send a postcard to my brother.
Fellow: You sure are rather thoughtful towards your brother, Ortho-kun. Now, what sort of card design are you thinking to choose?
Ortho: There's so many good scenes in Wish Upon a Star, it's hard to decide.
Ortho: This one shows when the Wooden Puppet met the Friendly Fox and the Gentle Cat. Heheh, they're all smiles.
Ortho: It's always great to make new friends. But I think my brother would be more scared that bright and cheerful strangers are coming up to talk to him…
Ortho: This scene of the Old Toymaker and the Wooden Puppet dancing looks really fun too…
Ortho: The card with the scene where they're searching for a whale at the bottom of the ocean is really interesting with these little moving fish and shells.
Ortho: And this hologrammed card is… The scene of the miracle of when the Wooden Puppet became a real boy.
Ortho: Hrrrrm… There's so many that it's hard to choose, but…
Ortho: If I have to pick one to send to my brother, then it has to be this one!
Fellow: Have you made your decision? If so, then please, use our counter available for you in the back to write your message.
Ortho: Thank you! I picked out the card, alright, but now what about the message?
Ortho: If I write about how I had fun hanging with Vil-san and Lilia-san, that may go into too much detail and may hamper his ability to read everything.
Fellow: Oh my, is there that much you wish to write about? I'm so honored that you have enjoyed Playful Land so dearly.
Fellow: Sure hope your postcard actually arrives where you need it to safely～
Gidel: … [nods with smirk]
Ortho: Yeah! …Oh right, I'll write down about the Playful Stage performance.
Ortho: With all that singing and dancing… I had such a great time!
[Ignihyde Dorm - Idia's Room]
Ortho: Nii-saaan, you have a package. It's that thing you mail ordered, and… Ah, this is…
Ortho: As I thought! It's the post card I sent out from Playful Land!
Ortho: All of my souvenirs were left with the amusement park, so I had completely given up hope that this card would ever show up…
Ortho: What a surprise that it actually arrived here safely!
Ortho: I wonder if Fellow-san sent it for me? That must mean they made it safely to some other town.
Ortho: …That was really an ordeal, but I guess it still made for a good memory.
Ortho: I sure hope my brother likes the postcard I chose.
Ortho: Similar to how the Wooden Puppet and the Old Toymaker used their wisdom and courage to escape the belly of the whale like in this postcard art...
Ortho: As long as me and my brother join forces, we can take on quests of any difficulty.
Ortho: That's why next time, I really hope we'll be able to go to an amusement park together!
#twisted wonderland#twst#ortho shroud#trey clover#lilia vanrouge#fellow honest#twst ortho#twst trey#twst lilia#twst fellow#twst gidel#twst translation#twst stage in playful land#mention: ace#mention: vil#mention: idia#mention: malleus#mention: silver#mention: sebek
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