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xximperioxx · 3 months ago

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Work Crush

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word count: 3k (I blacked out)

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, nothing too spicy - my man just wants to kiss his girl, sex toy mentioned lmao

Notes: y’all this man has me in a chokehold. He may be a little ooc but idc. This is kind of set before the first episode. I literally don’t know any about social workers so please ignore. It’s been soooooo long since I’ve written something so please be gentle. Also when you read it you can totally tell I listened to I Can See You by Taylor Swift writing this.

———————————————

Being a social worker at the Pitt has been interesting to say the least. You never know what’s going to come through those doors. The days are long and the shifts are difficult but the people and families you’ve helped regardless of the situations have made it worth it.

You started as an intern a few years ago, working directly with Kiara. You’ve become a tight knit family in the Pitt in a short amount of time.

You obviously cared for some co-workers more than others. Kiara was like your mom in and out of hospital. Dana was your work mom, Langdon was like your annoying brother, Collins and McKay felt like older sisters. Robby was different.

At first it started as a silly work crush. Blushing every time he said your name. It had to be how he looks in scrubs. That’s what you told yourself anyways. That was until you both saw each other outside of work at a local coffee shop.

You walked into the coffee shop down the street from your apartment, half asleep even though it’s after 2pm on your day off. Lifting your sunglasses to the top of your head, you scan the restaurant. You take an earbud out and stare at the menu debating on trying something new.

You feel someone stand next to you. Not ready to order, you turn to the person, “Oh I’m not ready yet, you can…Robby?”

He looks down in surprise, almost not recognizing you in casual clothes. His eyes travel down to your leggings and an old band tee with your hair in a lazy ponytail. You wanted to cringe, immediately regretting the lazy outfit.

He gives you a smile, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Your cheeks warm from his smile. “Just needed an afternoon pick me up.. well technically morning.”

He lets out a chuckle, “Just woke up too? I think I rolled out of bed like an hour ago.” Lies. He barely slept.

You nod with a smile, noting the lie you can see in his eyes. He feels like you see right through him.

He looks down at you, “Do you come here often?”

You purse your lips, not trying to laugh, “Was that supposed to be a pick up line?”

Robby feels himself grow red. He didn’t mean it like that. At least he thought. He opens his mouth to respond but the barista interrupts him. “Dr. Robby! You want your usual?”

Robby slowly nods in response and takes a step towards the register. You let your eyes finally take him in. Off shift Robby. He was wearing sweats and a hoodie. God he’s hot in regular clothes too. You find yourself thinking he looks a little too good in sweatpants. Get a hold of yourself.

Robby clears his throat. You’re caught red handed. Your eyes meet his. “Let me buy your coffee.”

“You really don’t need to do that.” You stutter out embarrassed. Is he being nice or flirting?

He gives you a look. “Too late. Order.” He motions you over, “C’mon, before I change my mind.”

“Yes, Sir,” you mumble before taking a step towards the barista with a smile. You can feel Robby’s eyes on you. His mind is racing with a million thoughts. He hopes you can’t hear his heart beating out his chest.

As you’re ordering, Robby pulls out his wallet. His eyes can’t help but wander over your ass. He catches himself and pulls himself back when he hears the barista’s voice. He feels like a dirty old man. He meets the eyes of the employee already looking at him. The barista repeats the amount due. Robby quickly hands the cash over.

You both walk to a table. “Thank you for the coffee. I really appreciate it.”

The smile he gives you almost weakens your knees.

“Anything for my favorite social worker.”

You let out a laugh, “Yeah, when Kiara’s not at work. She’s the best. ”

He shakes his head, “Give yourself some credit, kid.” You feel yourself deflate at the name but shake it off. “You’re fantastic at your job.”

“Says you, Dr. Robinavitch.” He makes a face at the praise and shakes his head.

It’s quiet between the two of you. You can see him thinking. Taking a sip of your coffee, you joke quietly, “One of these days, Michael.” His brown eyes meet yours with furrowed eyebrows in response, “You’ll tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the coffee shop, you found yourself watching how he carried himself around patients, around his coworkers, those he thought of as friends, and you. How he cares more about others than himself. The way he smirks when jokes around, the way he smiles when he sees his residents working hard. Your heart begins to beat faster whenever he catches your eye.

You began to feel Robby’s eyes on you more. The lingering touches when he brushes past you to get to another patient. The two of you ignoring what you’re both feeling.

Langdon even noticed the tension. He thinks it’s funny to gag whenever he catches you two looking at each other. It normally ends in a hard shove and a wince.

You don’t realize you’re spacing out in front of the computer until Collins repeats your name for the third time and McKay is snapping her fingers in your face. You blink a few times before looking at her. “Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Collins hums, “Any particular reason?”

You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “I guess I have a lot on my mind recently.”

McKay frowns at you, “Are you taking your medication? You really…”

You stop listening to her as you see Robby walk through the door. His eyes find yours and gives you a smile with tired eyes.

McKay stops talking, following your eyes. She scoffs as Collins and Mohan both snicker.

“How does that song go?” Mohan begins to sing, “‘Daddy’s home, home for meee.”

Collins lets out a loud laugh before joining, “You know your daddy’s home. It’s time to playyyy”

“You guys are mean.” “It’s too early for this” You and McKay say at the same time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had only been about two hours into the shift and you had already talked to families about tough situations. A miscarriage, death, postpartum mental health, addiction. You had lost count already.

Sighing as the low battery message popped up on the tablet you were using, you walked over to the desk to get a new one. Langdon, Mateo, and Mohan were deep in conversation about a patient you assume.

“Listen, all I’m saying is, the majority of the people who use toys like that aren’t getting laid.” Langdon said as if it proved a point.

You turn to the trio in shock, “What the fuck did I just walk in to?”

Mohan greeted you with a smile, “Patient‘s penis got stuck in one of those hands free strokers.”

You blanched at the thought. “That’s rough.”

Mateo nods in response before joking, “It was a sticky situation.”

A snort escapes you, Mohan stifles a giggle, and Langdon groans at the bad joke.

“Alright tea party’s over.” Robby interrupts the group, “Gloria is already up my ass today. I don’t need her seeing this.”

The doctors go in separate directions, each going to check on patients. Robby sits down at a computer with a sigh. He puts his readers on. You glance at him with a smirk as you work on paperwork for a recent patient, “Is today the day?”

He lets out a snarky laugh, “To talk about my feelings? In your dreams.”

“You always are, Dr. Robinavitch. You wouldn’t believe half the things I dream about,” You cheekily respond. He shakes his head at you. A real laugh escapes him.

Kiara comes up to you with a smile and you greet her. She looks between you and Robby. Noting the smiles on your faces. “What’d I miss?”

You hear McKay call you over to a patient. Picking up a new tablet you begin to walk away. You turn your head and joke, “Dr. Robby just mentioned to me he was finally interested in talking to you about what’s going on in that brain of his!”

Kiara looks at Robby with a hopeful smile, “Really?”

“No.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later in the day, you found yourself at the counter again working on a patient file. Langdon noticed you and looked away from Dr. Robby, “What about you, (Y/N), what’s your take on dogs and kids?”

Glancing up from your tablet, “I’m actually more of a cat person myself. Had one growing up and I have one now.” You answer with a shrug.

Langdon scoffed, “You’re basically an old cat lady.”

You send a glare his way.

“You have a cat and haven’t gotten laid in like a year.”

Your face turns red in embarrassment. You confessed to Langdon that it’s been over a year since you’ve had sex when you went out drinking with him and his girlfriend not too long ago. You could almost hear the way the couple let out a sad oh in response now. Could this get anymore embarrassing?

Thankfully you don’t notice Dr. Robby’s eyes widened after hearing Langdon. Surely a young woman like yourself didn’t spend most nights alone. He finds you attractive, he wouldn’t deny that. He remembers hearing you mention Leo a few times in passing. Does this mean you don’t have a boyfriend? He shakes his head, ignoring his thoughts. He could be your dad for Christ’s sake.

“And you’re a swiftie.” Dana added.

You gape at her. “How did you even know that?”

The charge nurse chuckled, “I saw you crying in your car at All Too Well a couple months ago. The 10 minute version if I recall.”

The two doctors raise their eyebrows at Dana, surprised to know her knowledge of the song.

Robby slides his glasses down to look at the charge nurse with a smirk, “Kinda sounds like you’re a swiftie, Dana.”

Your eyes find his and you try not to smile at his way to try to change the conversation. Robby’s smirk turns into a soft smile at you. Langdon looks between the two of you and keeps his mouth shut this time.

She puts her hands up in defense, “Blame my daughters.”

“They have great taste!” You defend her daughters. Ignoring the urge to cringe knowing Dana had caught you crying over a silly guy who broke your heart.

Langdon turned his attention back to you. Pointing his pen at you, he smirks, “Officially an old cat lady…just in a 20 something year old’s body.”

Dana puts her hand on your arm, “Sweetie, you’re too young to turn into a cat lady. You can’t be spending your nights off with your cat.” she says with a light laugh.

“For your information, Leo is great company.”

Robby looks up from the computer, “Leo’s your cat?” Langdon and Dana let out a laugh at his comment.

You pick up your tablet with an eye roll. You mumble, “You guys suck.” You begin walking away before you look back, “You guys remember this next time you need me for a patient!”

Robby found himself standing up and following you. As he got closer to you he began to regret his decision. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie with a sigh.

Now in step with you, his elbow bumps your shoulder.

“That last part didn’t include me, right? Because I-..” A laugh from you interrupts him. He lets out a chuckle too.

“No Robby, I’m all yours.” You stop, eyes wide after realizing what you said. “I mean like - you don’t suck,” Robby’s grin grows causing you to turn red. “..I’m going to stop talking now.”

“Oh no, please keep going.” He teases.

You try to joke, “Is this karma for earlier?”

Your smiles wipe off you when you see Gloria standing with an unimpressed look on her face. She’s looking at Robby. You slowly turn to look at him, placing your hand on his bicep. You purse your lips and lie, “I’ll um… go talk to that patient in 103 that you mentioned,” you lean in whispering, “Good luck.”

He gives you a tight lipped smile.

Collins stops you on your way to speak to one of her patients about counseling. You walk into the patient's room with a calming smile.

As you’re discussing what services will be covered by their insurance, you get interrupted by Robby’s annoyed voice yelling, “I can only tell you so many times that this wouldn’t be happening if you hired more help! It’s fucking ridiculous. We are doing all we can down here while upstairs is empty.”

Your eyes widen and your patient lets out a laugh. You apologize for the language before casually peeking out the door to see what happened. You only see an irked Gloria and a group of nurses and doctors looking at each other awkwardly. No Robby to be seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After finishing up your conversation with the patient you excuse yourself. Dana looks up from the computer to see you at the desk signing some paperwork.

“You talk to Robby?” She questions.

You meet her gaze and shake your head. She sighs and you look around the room, still not seeing him. “I was going to ask you that. Where did he disappear to?” You get a shrug in response. Nodding, you put away your tablet and decide to look for the stressed doctor.

You end up finding Robby leaning up against the wall in a quiet hallway. His head against the wall with his eyes closed. You watch him for a minute, debating if you should leave him alone.

You decide to join him. Leaning on the wall, your arms brush. It’s quiet.

You rest your head back and close your eyes as you enjoy the moment of peace.

Robby’s voice fills the air, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

You hum, “I know.”

He turns his head to look at you. Feeling his stare, you peek at him with one eye. You can’t decipher the look he’s giving you. “Stop looking at me like that.”

He lets out a chuckle and turns away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laugh.

The two of you stand in comfortable silence. The loud noise from down the hall drowns out the loudness of your beating hearts.

“Does it bother you that I’m twice your age?”

The question takes you by surprise. This time you turn your head to look at him.

“I find it sexy.” You tease and he lets out a huffed laugh.

It's quiet again. You sigh, “No, it doesn’t bother me. It never did,” you pause almost hesitant, “Does it bother you that I’m young?”

Robby let’s out a tired sigh, “It would be a whole lot fucking easier if it did but it doesn’t.” He runs his hands over his face. “Everything would be a lot easier if I didn’t feel this way about you.”

You nudge his shoulder. You push yourself off the wall and face him, “Tell me about it. I’ve had the hots for you since I started here,” you begin to take a step backward to create some space and laugh, “I tried to convince myself it was purely a work crush and next then I knew is - you’re all I could think about. Day and night.”

Robby reaches for your waist and pulls you in close.Your hands rest on his chest.“Remember when you blushed every time I said your name?” You roll your eyes, “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

He turns serious again, “You take one look at me and I feel like you see right through me and it’s fucking scary. Yet every time you smile at me I suddenly feel like a teenager again.” His thumbs grazing your hips he holds you and jokes, “More like a dirty old perv actually.”

You scrunch your face, “We all have our quirks. Me with my attraction to sexy older men and being a cat lady - ”

“You’re ridiculous,” He cuts you off with a shake of his head and a smirk. “And one sexy cat lady.”

You let out a giggle.

The two of you look into each other's eyes. Robby’s eyes occasionally glancing down at your lips. His head dips down and you lift head up to meet his lips. Your lips brush against each other and you mumble, “Michael, if don’t you don’t kiss me soon I think I might pass away.”

You feel the rumble of his chest as he chuckles, “Always so dramatic.” His lips finally meet yours for a slow, gentle kiss.

You eagerly kiss him back. His hands trail up your body and cup your face, kissing you harder. You both deepen the kiss and find yourself unzipping his sweatshirt and taking it off him. He pulls his hands away from your face for a second to help take it off, your lips never parting. It falls to the ground. Your hands travel up his biceps and back to his chest. After a few seconds, you both pull away with cheesy smiles on your faces, breathless. His hands fall back to your waist and gives you a squeeze.

Your hands wrap around his neck, “That was really nice.”

He lets out a snicker before pulling you into another passionate kiss. His lips begin to travel to your jaw and down your neck. You let out a breathy sigh, “This is even better.”

Your breath hitches as he begins to suck at your neck. This couldn’t keep going farther. It'll only be a matter of time before someone catches the two of you. You let out a moan, “You've had me hot and bothered since you told Gloria off.” He groans before he nips at your shoulder in response and pinches your sides.

You squeak, “And as much as I would love to jump your old man bones right now,” another pinch, “We should really get back before she comes looking for you.” You gently pull his face back up to yours.

He nods. “You’re right.” The look in his brown eyes says otherwise. He shrugs with a teasing smile, “Maybe just one more.”

You roll your eyes before pulling him into another kiss.

It was only a matter of time until Dana found the two of you, “Hey! We don’t have time for this! Get your asses back to work.”

You jump away from each other embarrassed, blushing like two teenagers who got caught by their parent.

#dr robinavitch #dr. robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt x reader #the pitt #the pitt hbo #dr robby #dr michael robinavitch #the pitt fic #the pitt imagine #noah wyle #hbo

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uvobreakmylegs · 1 month ago

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Astray

Chrollo x female!reader

Part 2 (coming soon)

Warnings: death, implied torture, graphic depictions of violence, reader isn't necessarily a terrible person but she's not all that great either

Word Count: 7.2k

“Excuse me, miss?”

The voice that called out to you made you stop in your tracks, and though internally you were cursing, you made sure there was a pleasant smile on your face while you turned away from the hamper full of linens you'd been wheeling to the third floor laundry chute, folding your hands politely in front as you addressed the person who had called for you.

A man stood before you, one who was very obviously here as a guest for the banquet your employer was hosting based on the nice suit he wore that was in line with the dress code of this particular black-tie event. The paleness of his skin seemed to be accentuated by the darkness of his short black hair and the equally dark black suit he wore. Though with how clearly expensive his suit was, you were a little surprised at the bandage which covered his forehead. Had he possibly injured himself and wanted to cover it up? His earrings also seemed a bit odd.

It didn't really matter to you, however. Whatever curiosities you may or may not have about him, it was in your best interests to make him leave you alone so you could continue with what you were doing.

“What did you need, sir?” you asked politely.

He smiled at you, appearing to be embarrassed as he scratched at his cheek while saying “I'm afraid I've gotten a bit lost. I'm not quite sure where the main dining hall is. Can you help me?”

“Of course, sir,” you replied, pointing down the hallway he'd come from as you continued “you'll need to walk down to the very end of this hall, make a right, then go down the first set of stairs you come across. You should find yourself outside the dining hall once you reach the bottom.”

“Ah, that simple, is it?” the man said.

How did you even end up over here when the event is clearly being held on the first floor? You thought to yourself.

You kept your outward appearance pleasant as you continued to smile at him.

The man shook his head as he added “now I feel silly. I'm sorry to waste your time over this. You must be busy with all the work that must be done around here.”

“It's no trouble, sir. The mansion's layout can be confusing for those who haven't been here before,” you cheerfully answered.

Now go away. Don't make me escort you there, either.

Sadly for you, the man wanted to talk.

“You know the layout well, then,” he said.

No fucking shit

“They wouldn't keep me employed here if I couldn't memorize that much.”

After hearing your answer, it seemed as though he was studying you. His gray eyes took in every detail about your face, your hair and the way you held yourself. Though the moment wouldn't last long, it was somewhat unsettling.

Maybe he had a thing for maids.

That thought made you cringe internally before another possibility came to mind:

Maybe he recognized the face of the dead girl you were using as your disguise.

You wouldn't have thought anyone would have noticed the likeness, given that the girl in question had died five years prior due to a boating accident in a different country. As the story was kept largely local to the area in which it happened, not many international news outlets bothered to cover it, most not caring much about a single woman dying.

No one working within the mansion questioned you during the time you'd been here, but with guests coming from all different parts of the world, you were aware of the possibility that at least one of them might recognize your disguise and possibly expose you.

Did he know about her?

More importantly, was he going to question you about it and keep you here longer?

“You've been working here for some time, then?” he asked.

Motherfucker

“Yes sir. Nearly six months,” you told him.

Go away

“That's a decent amount of time,” he said.

“I suppose so, sir,” you agreed.

Go away

“May I ask you another question?”

No. Go away

“Of course, sir.”

“Do you know of the diadem the Pelletier's acquired nearly two years back?” he asked.

…. That gave you pause, and though you tried to hide it, he had likely noticed your reaction.

Of all the things he could've asked about, why did it need to be that?

“I do, sir,” you answered.

Suddenly, you were very unsure of where this conversation was going.

“I've heard that it's kept within a vault on this floor,” he told you, “I understand that there is a very thin chance that you would allow for it, but if possible, I was wondering if you might take me to it.”

Are you fucking serious?

“… Sir, even if I do know where the vault is located,” you answered carefully, “my employers would never entrust the vault combination to a lowly maid like myself. There would be no point in taking you there.”

He smiled.

“Just being in the proximity would be enough. And I'd be more than happy to compensate for your troubles.”

“I'm sure you could, sir. But what I'm not sure of is if your compensation would be enough to provide for me when I lose my job after a stunt like that,” you said, “I'm afraid the answer will have to be 'no'.”

Just go away already

“Hm.”

Despite your desperate wishes, he wasn't going away. He was looking you over yet again, and though you didn't see any signs that he recognized your face yet, you didn't like how closely he observed you.

He couldn't tell you were using nen, could he?

“There really isn't anything I can do for you to help me out?” he asked.

You laughed a bit.

“Not unless you're willing to take me in and provide for me so I never need to work again, but I get the feeling you wouldn't want that,” you answered.

After you spoke, you realized how casual your tone had become, which didn't fit at all with the role of the polite maid who worked for the upper class couple that you were currently playing. You then cleared your throat before switching to the tone that was expected of you.

“So I'm afraid that continuing this discussion would be a waste of time for both of us,” you said.

He nodded.

“I agree,” he said.

He smiled after saying that, and suddenly it was like all of the playful charm he'd been using to try and win you over with was gone. The smile seemed incredibly fake, and the coldness you could see in his eyes sent a chill running down your spine.

For an instant, it felt like you were in danger being alone with him.

The feeling went away when you saw him glance back in the direction he had come from, and your gaze followed where his went when you heard a voice that yelled out.

“Minette! What are you – ! Oh.”

The voice that was yelling down the hallway ceased almost immediately, and when you and the man turned to see who had called out your alias, you found yourself looking at the head butler, Nikolos. He looked uncomfortable, most likely because he had been ready to reprimand you but hadn't expected to find you with one of the guests. Evidently he was upset with you, but was not willing to scream at you in front of the man who was speaking to you.

He composed himself, if barely, forcing a smile as he looked at the man.

“Ah, good evening, sir,” Nikolos said to him, “how may we help you?”

Before the man could answer him, you interjected.

“He lost his way,” you said, “he stopped to ask me how get to the dining hall. He was just about to head back.”

Surprisingly, the man played along, affirming your story with a nod of his head when Nikolos looked to him. Although maybe it wasn't too surprising seeing as he'd been trying to bribe you so he could get close to an expensive piece that belonged to the master of the house. Whatever this guy was hoping to gain from tonight, he wouldn't be able to do that if he was kicked out of the event.

“I see,” Nikolos said, adding “my apologies for keeping you, sir.”

“Not at all,” the man answered, a pleasant smile on his face as he continued with “I hope my getting lost hasn't caused issues for anyone.”

“Of course not, sir.”

The man looked back to you one last time as he thanked you for your help.

His smile looked fake again.

But in fairness, the smile you gave back to him was equally fake.

Still, that moment between you had been uncomfortable, as brief as it had been, so you were more than happy when the man finally made his way back where he was supposed to be, and you let out a small breath of relief. Though you caught him looking back at you as he rounded the corner.

Whatever it was that guy really wanted, you got the feeling he wouldn't be giving up so easily.

But that wasn't important right now, as the instant the man was out of sight, Nikolos turned to you, his expression stiff and and his form shaking with badly hidden rage.

“What. The hell. Do you think you're doing?” he hissed.

He was much quieter than when he had first approached you.

“I'm taking the linens to the chute,” you answered.

“Right now? When we have guests and need everyone at their stations? You thinks now is a good time to mess around with the laundry?”

You swore you could see steam beginning to come out of his ears. The other maids weren't lying when they said he was a control freak whenever it came to the lavish feasts the Pelletier's hosted.

“I'm sorry, sir,” you said, your tone apologetic, “I just thought it would be better to get this out of the way and then focus on the banquet.”

“You thought wrong,” Nikolos said, “now hurry up and get to your station.”

“Of course, sir.”

You began to walk down the hall, leaving the cart of linens where you'd left it.

Nikolos stopped you.

“You're just going to leave that?” he asked, pointing to the cart.

“But you told me to get to my station?” you replied, feigning ignorance.

“…. You're either incurably stupid or a smart ass,” he said, “neither option is one that I care for.”

“Get the linens out of the hallway and to the chute,” Nikolos continued, “and then get to your station.”

“Of course, sir,” you replied happily.

Nikolos' eye twitched upon hearing your tone. As you grabbed the cart again and began to push, he called after you.

“Once the dinner is finished, we will be having a very long discussion about your conduct today, Minette.”

“Yes sir!”

Fat chance, asshole

The instant you came upon the room with the laundry chute, you let out an even bigger sigh of relief. You weren't safe yet, but you felt that you were at least halfway done with this operation.

And in your opinion, getting the diadem out of the vault had been the harder part.

Digging through the linens, you found the small messenger bag that you had stashed inside of it only minutes earlier and you couldn't help but laugh a little. That man had tried to get you to take him to the Pelletier's bedroom while telling you that just being in the diadem's proximity would be enough, and yet he'd had no clue that he was standing only a few feet from it the entire time he'd been talking to you.

As much as you wanted to pull it out to look at it, this wasn't the place nor the time to revel in the spoils of your heist. Anyone could still find you in here – most likely Nikolos since you were clearly on his radar. If you weren't where you were supposed to be within the next five minutes he'd be raging.

Best to not be around for that.

Sliding up the door that opened up into the chute, you pulled the messenger bag over your head and secured it to yourself, keeping a hand on the box within that held the diadem.

After that, you took a breath –

And jumped down the chute.

Your fall was broken by the dirty laundry and the multitude of pillows and sheets that you had been padding the bottom with throughout the entire day, slipping away whenever you had the chance to make sure you wouldn't break anything when you jumped down there. That was likely part of what Nikolos had been referring to when he mentioned your conduct, as several of the other members of staff had been annoyed with how often you had left.

Just as you had anticipated, there was no one in the laundry room when you popped out from the bottom of the chute. Everyone else was busy with the banquet. And as such, no one would notice a single maid slipping out through the back.

But just to make sure of that fact, you enacted your zetsu before making your way into the back courtyard.

You felt your heart racing in your chest despite everything going just as you had planned. The only thing that was unexpected was when you came across the smaller back entrance. With everyone's attention being on the mansion and the main gates, this entrance was meant to be locked and bolted. For some reason it wasn't. Odd, but at least it saved you a few seconds that would've been eaten up with you undoing the locks.

You were on higher alert, though, and you kept your movements quiet as you exited through the back and made your way into a wooded area that surrounded the walls of the mansion.

Not too much longer. I'll find it soon and then I can – Ah!

Beneath a tarp, a pile of leaves and some branches was the motorized scooter you had stashed the other week for a quick and easy escape. Though starting up the motor this close to the mansion wouldn't be the wisest idea, so after pulling up the kickstand, you walked the scooter through the trees, looking back every so often to the mansion in case your plans had somehow been discovered and there were people coming out to find you.

There wasn't any such activity, and when you made it to the road, you hopped onto the scooter, started it up and drove off. It was somewhat difficult driving with the skirt of your dress being as long as it was, but you managed. Right now you wanted to have a good distance between you and the mansion before you removed your disguise.

The adrenaline was pumping through you again. Just as it had when you snuck into the Pelletier's master bedroom and input the code to the vault. The chances of you being caught were high and if that were to happen, the half a year you'd spent at that place would've all been wasted. All the time, effort and planning gone up in smoke.

But no one had come in, and you got into the vault without issue, taking the diadem out of its glass case and replacing it with a cheap plastic replica that you'd bought online. Your disappearance would noted tonight, but with any luck, it would take a few days before your former employers would realize the switch. And by that point, you'd be long gone. Your alias would vanish into thin air and there would be nothing to connect you to the theft of the Pelletier's most prized possession.

You drove, getting further and further away from the mansion and closer and closer to the coastal town where a ferry would be leaving soon, one that would take you from Begerosse to Hantane, and from there you'd head east, taking the diadem with you for the sake of the awaiting buyer.

But before you got to that point, you needed to change.

And as a darkened church building came into view, you turned and pulled into the parking lot, heading towards a dumpster that sat in the back. The building itself wasn't useful to you, but what was important was that there would be no one here at this time of night, and you knew for a fact that the cameras that had been mounted on the sides of the church were only for show and weren't actually recording anything.

So no one would witness it when you took off that dead girl's face.

Turning off the bike and setting it on the kickstand, you moved fast, undoing the buttons at the back of your maid dress while you walked to the large dumpster. All other clothing you'd worn during your time at the mansion had been destroyed earlier, so this was all that was left. While a fire wouldn't destroy everything, it would be difficult for any potential investigators to find much that was useful on the remains of the clothes if or when they were discovered.

After fully removing the dress that had hidden your regular clothing beneath it, switching out the black heeled shoes for ones a bit more comfortable and tossing all of it into the largely empty space of the dumpster, there was only one thing left to do.

Death Mask: deactivate

For the third and final time since you had donned her visage, the skin at the edges of your face began to peel off. You grabbed hold of them and pulled so as to speed up the process of removing her face, like you were pulling off a face mask. As the illusion of her features were removed, yours were returned, and within a matter of moments, you were holding a paper thin copy of the boating accident girl's face, the empty holes that made up the eyes and mouth gaping at you while your own face was now restored.

Now you needed to finish the last of your conditions for your hatsu.

Throwing the mask on top of the pile, you pulled out the last two things you'd been hiding in the bag: a box of matches and a small canister of lighter fluid. You soaked the contents of the pile with the lighter fluid before throwing the canister on top as well, and took one of the matches from the box and struck it.

The thin layer of skin that had hidden your face for six months stared up at you as it sat on top of your maid uniform, quietly watching both you and the lit match you held above it.

Ah….. Her name. It was Jennica.

“I'm really sorry you died in that accident, Jennica,” you said aloud, “I hope you're at peace and that you ended up somewhere good. You deserved better than what you got.”

The flames shot up after you threw the match and the rest of the box onto the pile, making you quickly back away as soon as you felt the heat hitting your skin. No time to stay and watch – you got on the scooter again and started it up. Within seconds you were on the road again, keeping an eye on your surroundings and the names of the roads.

By now “Minette” would likely be discovered as being absent, and you could imagine Nikolos trying to keep his composure for the sake of appearances while desperately – and no doubt angrily – trying to find the missing maid.

The thought made you smile; after the six months of dealing with him on a daily basis, that stress of his was well-earned.

As was your reward.

When you were far away enough that you felt comfortable that no one would suspect that you had anything to do with the mansion or the evidence burning at the back of the church, you couldn't help but pull over, leaving the bike running as you parked beneath a flickering streetlight.

You needed to see it.

You'd spent so long on this job, so much time and effort and close calls that were much closer than you would ever admit out loud. So much effort spent on one piece of jewelry. You needed to get a look at it. A proper look, not the quick five second glance you'd gotten before stuffing it into the bag when you were in a hurry to leave the vault.

After pulling it out from the confines of the messenger bag, the diadem sparkled in the lamplight. You could see why this was a piece many would want.

A large, circular sapphire sat at the center, accompanied by a piece of opal on the side that had been shaped so that both gems together resembled the light and the dark of a crescent moon. The rest of the diadem was made of silver, and the material had been bent in places so it resembled the clouds of a night sky, and sprinkled throughout the piece were diamonds that represented far off stars.

It was very pretty, if a bit gaudy. Certainly a product of it's time, when one's status was determined by the amount of diamonds you were able to afford to place on literally everything.

Excessive, but very pretty regardless, and it was little wonder why there were people willing to anything to get their hands on it.

That's enough time looking at it, you told yourself, shoving it back into the bag and quickly driving off again. If you dawdled any longer you ran the risk of missing the ferry.

But this time you couldn't help the smile that reached from ear to ear. You'd done it. You'd actually pulled off the biggest heist of your career. Once this got to the buyer, you'd be set for life. You could spend the rest of your days relaxing on a beach while sipping expensive drinks if you wanted. Or maybe something a bit less extravagant and on the down-low. Maybe you could find a cabin near a lake and spend your time reading under a heated blanket. That also sounded nice. Then again, you didn't necessarily need to be tied down to one place; you could always travel wherever you liked without worrying about cost. Ah, the possibilities were endless.

Get it to the buyer first, you told yourself. Finish the job so you can get your money, and then plan for the vacation that would be the rest of your life.

The smile stayed on your face as you drove, and you knew that this was a turning point in your life.

A major one.

“Boss.”

There was an oddly flat tone to Phinks' voice as he called out, Chrollo noted as he and Pakunoda turned to look in the enhancer's direction.

“Something wrong, Phinks?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Phinks turned to look at him while he pointed to the diadem with his thumb.

“This is fake.”

Chrollo didn't betray any emotion when he heard that. He walked forward and stood next to Phinks, inspecting the piece from where it sat on a small display stand before he hummed to himself.

“So it is.”

At first glance, the piece behind the glass looked to be the real thing. But when one looked closer, it became clear that it was nothing more than shiny plastic.

“This is just a decoy, then?” Phinks asked him.

“It seems to be,” Chrollo answered.

He looked back to Pakunoda.

“The man of the house is still alive, correct?”

“He should be.”

“Have Feitan interrogate him some more. Find out where the real one is,” he said.

“Got it,” Pakunoda said before she left the vault.

Chrollo looked back to the fake. A cheap decoy. Perhaps a bit odd, but it did make sense; while the other items in the vault were real, the diadem was worth more than everything else combined. That the owners would take extra precaution in hiding their most valuable piece wouldn't be unreasonable.

And yet….

Even with that train of logic, Chrollo couldn't help feeling that there was something about this that felt off. Something about this situation didn't feel right, but what it was exactly, he wasn't sure.

His mind kept going back to the maid he'd encountered earlier.

Something had been off with her as well. Not only had there been an air of strangeness about her, she was eager to get away from him, like she was in a hurry to do something else. And while she had been polite with him, he'd been able to sense the growing irritation in her the longer he kept her.

Though perhaps that could've been explained away as a maid who was busy with her duties that came with a high-stress position in a mansion while being forced to entertain a pushy guest when she had other things to do.

But still, the longer Chrollo thought about her, the more he felt that there had been something going on with her. He simply couldn't place what it was yet, nor could he connect anything between her or the fake diadem in front of him.

She had gotten visibly nervous when he mentioned the diadem earlier, he noted to himself.

Phinks had pulled the glass case off of its stand before grabbing the plastic copy. He began to inspect it, turning it around and stopping when he read something on the back.

“Anouilh Museum,” he mumbled.

“That was where the real one was kept for a time before it made its way to auction,” Chrollo said, “it seems this one was originally from their gift shop.”

“Hm.”

There wasn't much else to say about it, and Phinks put the fake back in place on the stand before he and Chrollo went through the rest of the vault's contents. Under normal circumstances, Feitan would get the information out of his victim quickly and they would have the item they were searching for.

Clearly the circumstances were far from normal as Pakunoda returned a short while later with a hint of worry on her face.

“He doesn't know where it is,” she said.

“He doesn't?” Chrollo repeated.

“No. Even with Feitan working him over, he insisted that it was in this vault,” said Pakunoda, “just to be certain, I looked through his memories to see if he was lying, and he isn't. It's supposed to be in here.”

…. Chrollo's feeling that something was off was starting to become more justified.

When Chrollo stood before Benoit Pelletier not long after, the man was kneeling in the middle of the third floor hallway and wheezing out every breath as he cradled an injured hand. Feitan hadn't needed to do much to make him crack, it seemed. The former grandiose man of the house looked up when Chrollo, Phinks and Pakunoda approached him, and when he saw the fake that Phinks was holding, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why…. Why are you asking about where it is if you have it?” Benoit asked. Then despite the circumstances, a small bit of pompous arrogance came back as he asked “are you stupid?”

That annoyed Phinks to the point that he crushed the fake in his hands, much to the man's shock and disbelief as he yelled as to what he was doing.

“It's a fake, dumbass,” Phinks growled at him.

Benoit seemed just as shocked upon realizing that, looking at the plastic pieces that now littered the floor.

“It can't be,” he breathed, “it was real. I… The historians confirmed it….. I didn't buy a fake. It was genuine.”

There was no point in continuing to ask if he knew where the real one was; his reaction was proof enough that the place where the fake had been was supposed to be where the real one was.

“Did your wife know the code to the vault?” Chrollo asked him, “did she move it elsewhere for safekeeping?”

He shook his head.

“I'm the only one that knows….. If she wanted anything she needed to ask me first,” he mumbled, “no one….. No one else could've known.”

“I see,” said Chrollo, “then I have only one more question: what can you tell me about a maid in your employ who goes by the name 'Minette'?”

Benoit seemed bewildered at the question.

“Who is that?” he asked in response.

“You don't know your own employees?” Chrollo asked back.

“We have dozens of maids who work here; how am I supposed to know a single one of them?”

“I see. In that case, your usefulness has run out.”

“Wha-”

He hadn't even gotten out one word before Feitan had pulled out his sword and stabbed it through his head, the blade passing through the top of his mouth and forcing open his jaw as it stabbed through. The blood that dripped down along the blade caused a gurgling noise to emit from his throat as the light left his eyes and his body grew limp. Feitan then placed his foot on the man's shoulder as he pulled the sword out, and the body fell to the floor, blood now beginning to pool around the head as his mouth hung open, gaping like a fish.

“So the diadem was never real, then?” Phinks asked.

“No, it had to be. The fake wasn't good enough to fool someone for long. You were able to confirm it after looking at it for a few moments,” Chrollo pointed out.

“So then….?”

“Someone switched it out.”

“And if it wasn't the owners….” Phinks said, trailing off as he glanced down at the body.

Pakunoda finished the enhancer's sentence as she said “then someone else must have gotten to it before we could.”

“It's beginning to seem that way,” Chrollo confirmed.

The three members of the troupe that were gathered glanced at each other while the face of the maid flashed in Chrollo's mind again.

He'd seen her last in the hallway of one of the upper floors – this floor, pushing a cart of linens toward a laundry chute. He'd been listening in to her conversation with the butler, and had heard him order her to remove the cart before she returned to her station.

Remove the cart and take it to the chute, he had told her.

“There's a laundry chute on this floor, correct?” Chrollo asked.

“Yeah,” Pakunoda replied, “somewhere on the other side of the house.”

“Is the chute important?” Phinks asked him.

“I'm not sure yet,” Chrollo said.

Looking back to Phinks and Feitan, Chrollo gave his orders as he said “Phinks, I want you to go back to the vault and continue packaging the items in there. Feitan, you go downstairs and bring Shizuku back up, and the two of you will help Phinks in the vault. Under no circumstances is she to use Blinky for anything else unless I say so. Tell her that, and remind her if she forgets.”

Phinks and Feitan nodded in understanding, and while the torturer began to make his way downstairs, Phinks lingered as he asked “what about you, boss?”

“Pakunoda and I need to check something out.”

That was enough for Phinks before he made his way back to the vault, leaving Chrollo and Pakunoda to being their walk to the other side of the mansion. Pakunoda was already looking at him expectantly, correctly anticipating that he needed her for a specific reason.

“Paku, I need you to scan my mind,” Chrollo said, “look in my memories for a maid I spoke with who went by the name of Minette.”

He held his hand out, and Pakunoda took it as they walked while she repeated “a maid named Minette?”

Within a moment, Pakunoda hummed as she gained the memories of the maid from Chrollo.

“You think she's the one who switched the diadem out for the fake?” she asked as she let go of his hand.

“Possibly,” said Chrollo.

“That could be an issue if she hid it before she died.”

“If she died.”

“You think she escaped?”

“That's what we're going to see,” Chrollo said, “depending on what we find, we may need to have Shizuku bring back the bodies Blinky cleaned up and go through the remains of the maids one by one.”

“That could take some time. The Pelletier's employed a lot of staff for their day to day needs, and that doesn't include the extra workers they hired just for tonight.” Paku commented.

“I know. It's not ideal, but we'll at least have a few hours before anyone notices something amiss here. If a majority of us look through the bodies we should be able to find her.”

“Unless she left.”

“Unless she left,” Chrollo confirmed.

A few short moments later, Chrollo and Pakunoda were in the same place he'd been not even an hour earlier, where he had spoken to the maid. From there, it was a short walk until they found the room that had the laundry chute.

“The cart is here,” Chrollo noted aloud, looking at the cart the maid had been pushing when he first saw her. It stood in the middle of the room, right in front of the chute.

“She didn't bother to take the sheets out,” Pakunoda commented.

“She took something out,” Chrollo said as he looked over the contents of the cart. The sheets were disturbed, as though they had been rooted through. Had the diadem been inside it the entire time and he hadn't realized? And if that was the case, where did she go after she came to this room?

His eyes went to the most direct answer: the laundry chute at the end of the room.

Chrollo pushed the cart to the side, and once he reached the chute, he pushed up the small door to open it and then pulled his leg over the edge. He then looked to Paku, who hadn't moved.

“Care to join me?” he asked.

“I think I'd rather take the stairs,” she answered.

Chrollo huffed out a small laugh as he playfully asked “what, no sense of adventure, Paku?”

“Oddly enough, I don't see jumping into a pit of dirty laundry to be much of an adventure,” she said, but she smiled as she added “I'll see you below.”

Chrollo smiled back at her, and then lifted his other leg. Shortly after, he was falling down the chute.

His fall was broken by more padding than he had expected. Lifting up a portion of the linens he'd fallen on, he hummed to himself when he found a great deal of pillows and sheets underneath.

So this was where “Minette” had landed.

The path was obvious to him after he'd stepped out of the laundry room; in an adjacent hallway, there was a door that led out to the back of the mansion, and even from where he currently stood, through the window of the door he was able to see a clear path to an exit within the wall that surrounded the structure, one that appeared to have been left unlocked. With all of the focus at the time being on the banquet hall, no one would have noticed the maid slip out that way.

“How likely is it that she got away?” Pakunoda's voice called out to him.

He turned to find her approaching.

“Extremely likely,” he answered.

She stopped when she reached him as she asked “should we still look through the bodies?”

“For now, no,” Chrollo said, “for now the others will continue as planned for the rest of the job.”

Pakunoda cocked her head to the side as she asked “should I assume that the two of us will be looking for the maid beyond the mansion?”

Chrollo nodded, then added with a small smirk “I hope going out into the woods at night is more acceptable than jumping into dirty laundry.”

“It is. Slightly,” Paku countered.

With that, the two exited down the hall and through the back door that lead to the outside. As the two spiders made their way across the large open courtyard enclosed within the walls, Chrollo's thoughts were consumed by one person and one person alone:

Minette.

The maid.

The thief.

Or rather, the fellow thief.

At the very least, a potential one. Even if the evidence he had found at this point seemed to point to that conclusion, Chrollo wanted to see more before he accepted that as fact. If the maid had indeed escaped with the treasure he had set his sights on, there would be evidence of that beyond the mansion.

That evidence was easily found only a few minutes later, when he and Pakunoda came across a discarded piece of tarp left abandoned within the woods. That evidence was accompanied by combination of tire tracks and footprints which had been embedded into the soft dirt of the forest floor. The two naturally followed, only for their journey to be cut relatively short when they reached the road and found no more tracks to find on the dense pavement.

“Depending on when she left, she could be long gone by now,” Pakunoda said aloud.

“She could,” Chrollo agreed.

“Do we intend to follow her?”

“… At this moment, no.”

With everything falling into place and it all but being confirmed that the maid had stolen the diadem, Chrollo turned and began to make his way back through the woods as he said “even if we went by vehicle, it's unlikely that we'll catch up to her. We'll only be wandering around aimlessly since we don't know where she went. At this point, it's better to finish the current job and then figure out the most likely route she took after the fact.”

He noted the way Pakunoda followed him once more as they both headed towards the mansion, but Chrollo's thoughts were consumed once more – on what to do from here, and how this had occurred in the first place.

It was an unprecedented situation – for the Phantom Troupe to have someone swoop in and steal their target before they could.

That fact would inevitably mar the heist, no matter how many others of the high-value items they collected from the mansion. The Diadem of Princess Despoina was the main item he had set his sights on when he chose to have the troupe descend on the Pelletiers, so to have it be snatched away from him by the hands of another thief only left his carefully laid out plan to end in failure.

Yet as Chrollo continued his walk through the woods, he found that he wasn't upset by the idea.

Perhaps that was a bit odd. Others in his position would likely be raging, and while he wasn't prone to bursts of anger like that, being irritated at the situation and the individual who had caused it would have been reasonable. Or even to be irritated with himself, as when he thought back to his brief encounter with the maid, Chrollo quickly realized that everything could have wound up differently had he chosen to act sooner. If he had chosen to kill the maid and the butler that had come barging around the corner, he wouldn't be outside searching for a sign of where she had gone. Instead, he or one of the other members of the troupe would have found the diadem hidden in the linens and that would be that. That the maid was stealing the diadem would be an interesting tidbit which would be easily forgotten in time.

To know now that the outcome he had desired hinged completely on that one action of his should have been annoying, at the very least.

But he didn't even feel that.

Instead, an entirely different emotion was filling within him, and though he attempted to keep his true feelings hidden, Pakunoda was far too perceptive for him to hide it from her.

“You seem rather amused by this, boss,” she said.

Chrollo shrugged lightly as he said “it's not something that's ever happened before.”

“No. But even I thought you would be a little upset over it.”

“I don't see it worth being upset over. If anything, it's an interesting turn of events. That some little sneak was able to get in and out with our intended prize.”

He felt the eyebrow Pakunoda raised in his direction as she said “you sound like you want to praise her, boss.”

“Maybe a little,” Chrollo admitted, “with the members we have in our rank, the fact that she was able to get away without anyone noticing deserves at least some praise.”

“But was that due to skill on her part? Or luck?”

“That's what we'll find out.”

As the lights in the mansion grew brighter as they got closer, Chrollo was thinking of the steps to be taken next; once the current job was done, the obvious action was to have Shalnark look up the fastest routes out of this area. Though Shalnark may not even have to do that much – there was a coastal town nearby, as Chrollo recalled, and he felt certain that if he was in the shoes of that maid, he would have headed there and left as soon as possible. If that was the case, it would be as simple as finding out what ships had left the port during that window of time and getting ahold of any possible security video.

The issue of retrieving the diadem could be taken care of within a few days if that was the case.

But Chrollo had a feeling that it wouldn't be so simple.

There was something about her that still bothered him. But all he could truly point to in that regard was that her voice didn't match her face. It was hardly conclusive proof of anything, and yet that fact felt important. Time would only tell if he was correct or not.

Perhaps that was why he was so unbothered by the theft. Perhaps that theft itself was why he found himself more interested in the person who had committed it. By little “Minette” who was trying so hard to appear soft and sweet while barely being able to hide her true self and the way she wanted to strangle him for holding her up.

Thinking back to that previous encounter, Chrollo couldn't help but chuckle, and he found himself wanting to see her again – to see you again, whoever you were. He sincerely hoped that you had been sloppy when you made your escape and would make hunting you down easier for him, because he wanted to get his hands on you as soon as possible to learn more about you, to learn what exactly your ability was.

And to see exactly how you would react if he was able to take that from you.

The diadem was an afterthought by this point.

#reader insert #yandere x reader #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere hxh #hxh x reader

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dissolved-g1rl · 2 months ago

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༻ ♡ ༺

He’s never considered himself to be a religious man. Not in the 40’s and certainly not now. Though….he does feel the slight guilt when he’s with you. Like there really is a big man above wagging his finger because he’s dating a twenty something year old. Dating as a centurion just feels icky. Like touching something sticky, or stepping on a wad of gum. Even the word “boyfriend” makes him cringe. He’s far past the stage of “boy” and he’s sure it makes people expect some college aged brat, and not well…him. He’s a congressman now, dating at his age is…embarrassing to say the least. He feels less embarrassed when you’re giving him kisses and attention, irrelevant. You got carded when he took you out, carded, he didn’t get checked—well he did just in a judgy sort of way.

He would’ve courted you if he had gotten the chance. Would’ve asked your parents for permission and picked you up to go out to the theatre or to a carnival. Though things never seem to work out the way he wants. He’s rubbing your back as you lie on his chest scrolling on your phone, taking the time to show him something silly that made you laugh. The little tank top you’re wearing isn’t jarring, he’s gotten used to 21st century fashion. Still, he knows, had this been his early twenties it would really make his head spin. You regularly keep him on his toes.

He sighs, which makes you look up at him. “okay?” You ask, he smooths your hair down and nods. “Fine, little sleepy.” He murmurs, getting you to lay your head back down. “You wanna go to sleep?” You ask and he shakes his head, he feels like an old man enough, he doesn’t need a bedtime. You go back to lying down and he feels like a worm again. The softness and smoothness of your skin, god, you aren’t even calloused. Just never worked a day in your life have you? He wants to make sure you never have to. You’re not some midlife crisis, he’s ready to ride or die. Both probably soon, he doesn’t worry about it that much anymore, you’ve done a lot to ease his worries. He’s knows you aren’t a baby, you’re a modern lady, and he’s trying to be your modern man.

credit to @cursed-carmine for dividers

#bucky barns x fem reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #bucky barns #bucky barnes #.☘︎ ݁˖

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munsster · 4 months ago

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hey girl!! so i was rewatching season 3 and saw the part where max and eleven are playing the spin the bottle and spying on people and had an idea! what if the reader is babysitting them and the girls drag her in to play and they spin in on steve, so she’s like “alright that’s enough” bc she doesn’t want to invade on her friends privacy but she sits through it anyway, and she hears him talking to robin about how much he likes her and wants to ask her out. IDK i thought that was cute :))

don’t hate the game

A/N: UR SO RIGHT THIS IS SO CUTE. I’m so glad i FINALLYYY found motivation to tackle it <3 (gif creds: @buckysbarnes)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: The girls convince you to play an embarrassing party game from your past. It’s nothing like you remember. 2.4k words

Warnings: pet names (sweetheart, honey), ‘like’, overthinking, implied bullying, stupid pining, insecurity

It's a Friday night in the middle of summer, and you're wondering how you got here. Well, actually you're in your living room, so it's not that great of a mystery, but more confusing than that, you're letting two adolescent girls teach you how to play spin the bottle. If someone had told you at graduation that this is where you'd end up, you'd laugh right in their face.

Who's laughing now.

"But!" Max says, "if you hadn't noticed, none of these people are in the room, so how would we kiss them?"

You fight the urge to sink into your seat, blithely nodding and avoiding anything that might alienate you from your younger counterparts. You're almost sorry you surrendered your night to babysit two capable teens, but you promised El's dad who promised to pay you handsomely. Plus, they seem to like you enough to find you cool. Enough to tell you teenage secrets and complain about their boyfriends.

As they're explaining the rules, a memory creeps in of the first time you ever played this godforsaken party game. On Steve Harrington's floor in eighth grade. The cheers dying off as the mouth of the bottle slowed to a stop in your direction. No one expected him to actually lean over and kiss you. Or that you'd stay good friends despite his high school career soaring into stardom while yours sort of... didn't.

"We don't kiss them!" El chirps with an excited glint in her eye. The girls lean in like it's the first time they're hearing the rules but you're almost certain they made them up.

"Right. Instead, El here becomes our spy. I'm not exactly sure how it works, but she can see into their conversations or something. It's wicked." Max looks to El with something like admiration.

Intrigued, you glance down at the post-it notes arranged in a circle, scribbled with assorted names from yearbooks and yellow pages. A few you recognize: Mike and Lucas, one of the Hawkins Middle math teachers, even Will’s mom wasn’t safe from their antics.

But among the many names, you're most drawn to Steve. The way the letters loop and curl into his name, you go a little dizzy imagining that you really were playing the game. That he was seated across from you now. That he might lean over like he did the first time while your mind raced with a thousand possibilities. It's a prank or a dare or his wholehearted commitment to the game, anything other than his own free will.

You blink out of your silly, nostalgia-fueled trance when Max presses the cold glass bottle to your palm.

"You first."

They giggle and fall into each other when you half-twist the bottle. You're still in disbelief that you agreed to this as you watch the bottle spin, ticking off names as it loses momentum.

"Who is that?" you ask, leaning closer as if you'd read the yellow post-it wrong.

"Oh," El says. She cringes away from the board and crosses her arms over her chest in defiance.

"That bitch from P.E.," Max grumbles, and you have half a mind to scold her if you hand’t found universal bitch-aversion endlessly amusing. "You can spin again, she's not worth the trouble anyway."

You imagine your dream game once again. The bottle flies in the other direction at your fingertips, haywire and picking up a new gravity. It draws a wild, fiery line beneath your stare as you consider the possibility of Steve. It slows and slows until it's spinning almost at the same pace as Earth from a distance. Listening to the roaring sound of the universe as the bottle turns. Turns and turns and turns. Your eyes light up.

The girls giggle.

"No," you say sternly, regretting all your daydreams and fantasies in the face of cold, hard reality. "No, not Steve."

"Please!" they whine.

"Ladies, that's enough. He's a good friend, we're not spying on him."

They act like kicked puppies, though you know they're tricking you as they pout and bat their eyes. You know they know more than they should. About you. You and your feelings towards Steve Harrington. Something they discovered through a quiz in some teeny bopper magazine or other. Those magazines that somehow hold the secrets of the universe and the answers to every haircare question.

“Come on, I’ll make us popcorn and we can start a movie. A horror, if you really want.”

They seem satisfied enough, springing to the couch and settling into the cushions there.

The stove heats slowly. You fish through your cabinet for the last pan of Jiffy Pop, peeling back the thin cardboard cover when you hear snickering from the other room.

“What’s he saying?” Max whispers. You strain to hear her with your back pressed to the wall, just out of sight.

You shouldn’t be eavesdropping. You know better. You’re not a prepubescent girl anymore, you’re the babysitter with responsibilities. Like a job. Yet, you can’t seem to pull yourself away from the doorway. Every time you hear his name, your heart soars with what-ifs. You feel your eyes slip closed as El speaks.

“Steve is speaking to someone. I see her”—Your heart sinks—“Robin!”

You selfishly let out a breath. You’re mostly thankful he’s not spending his evening alone, but you also knew his friendship with Robin was strictly platonic. Robin had sworn by it without you even having to raise the question. You didn’t have to, she said, she could see it in your face. You wondered if Steve found you that transparent.

“He’s talking about… A girl. Her eyes. A smile. And he’s smiling, too. Oh, wait, now he’s frowning because Robin flicked him,” she says with a playful lilt.

She gasps.

“What?” Max yelps, shifting closer on the squeaky couch.

“Steve wants to confess his feelings. Big feelings, he says. Like-like.”

You not sure if that’s El’s paraphrase of Steve’s so-called big feelings or if the term like-like came from his own mouth. Neither option would surprise you. What does surprise you is that you’d never heard any of this from Steve before. You liked to think you were friends, even one of his best friends. He was surely one of yours. You told each other almost everything because you can’t exactly discuss complex relationships and sex with middle schoolers.

But you’d never heard of Steve’s seemingly new, mystery like-liker lover.

“He’s thinking of asking her out. Robin told him he might as well, it’s obvious that the girl he’s talking about likes him back. He doesn’t agree,” El says, her brows furrowed beneath the thick black blindfold, “Robin’s shouting. Steve looks sad.”

“What’s she saying?” Max whispers.

“Shh! ‘You like her so much, you might as well tell her and let her react. But I’ll say this, she’s going to say yes. That girl has been in love with you since the eighth grade’. He’s thinking.”

“Think faster, hair-brain!”

El giggles, her face suddenly falling serious. “‘Really?’” You stifle a laugh at the deeper voice she affects.

“‘She’s never said anything to me about it’. Robin looks angry. ‘Obviously, dingus! Do you go around telling people you’re in love with them?’”

“She has a point,” Max says. “Who’s he talking about?”

“I don’t know—Oh! Here we go,” El huffs, fists clenched eagerly, “He’s making a plan to ask her out, he’s going to call her. He’s getting up—”

Just then, the popcorn bursts from its aluminum confines with a bang. You let out a strangled noise between a yelp and a grumble, annoyed at the rude and very loud interruption. As you set the burner knob in place, you consider the fact that Steve has very real feelings for someone else. Someone who’s just not you. And as you shake the popcorn into a ceramic bowl, the landline rings.

“Will someone get that?” you call, grabbing a few small packages of sweets stashed in the cabinet. You hear the girls spring from the couch, and you shuffle into the living room to a giddy scene huddled around the receiver.

“Yes, she’s here!” El squeals. There’s a muffled response from the other line, and they share a conspiratorial glance.

“It’s for you,” Max says, handing you the phone with a smirk.

“Thank you. Go pick a movie while the popcorn’s hot.” You clear your throat, preparing yourself for the worst. Maybe your boss firing you or a repo man taking your TV. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to interrupt girl’s night, I can call back later,” Steve’s gentle voice filters clear through the speaker. In the silence, static hums, and you press the phone closer to your ear.

Trying to listen for what he might be thinking. He sounds like rain. Like Sunday and a lack of pressure. He sounds inviting and warm like that big green sweater he’s always wearing. If only you knew he wears it because you adore it. You tell him every time; why would he ever stop.

“No!” you chirp, “no, perfect timing actually, we were just about to start a movie.”

“Oh! That sounds fun,” he says. You fidget with the springy cord, facing away from the living room and from the attention of the two flittering girls.

“Yeah,” you say, hoping he doesn’t recognize the disappointment coloring your tone. “So, how’d it go?”

He chokes a little. “How’d… what? Go?” There’s a soft snicker from the other line at his incidental voice crack.

“Your… I mean, did you have something you wanted to tell me?”

The line dips, but you hadn’t heard the telltale plastic clatter of a hang up. Just soft shuffling and a curse from under his breath. You curdle at the near silence.

“What did Robin tell you?” he grumbles.

“What? Nothing. Was she supposed to?”

“Well, no! I just called to tell you—”

He goes silent, and this time you’re actually convinced he hung up. There’s no sound at all, and you double check your receiver to make sure the problem’s not on your end.

“Stevie?”

“Yep, sorry. Just… feel silly.”

“Okay, you’re starting to scare me a little,” you hum, clutching onto the handheld.

“No! Sorry, not trying to scare you, honey, I just need to get something off my chest. But it’s not scary. Or, well, I guess it could be taken that way, and that would be okay. A little sad, but yeah, no hard feelings—”

At this point, you’re sure he’s talking about his prospective date. He knows you have a stupid, obvious crush on him, and he’s trying to soften the blow of new romantic conquest. Of course, introducing his new girlfriend to you would be terrifying, but you’d always put on a brave face for Steve. He knows that. He’d do the same for you.

“Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“Just get it over with,” you sigh, leaning your head against the wall and bracing for heartache.

“Right. Not trying to waste your time. Here goes.”

I’ve got a new, smoking hot girlfriend who just agreed to go on a date with me. And she’s got beautiful eyes and a gorgeous smile, and I’ve been in love with her since I can remember, and we’re gonna run away together forever and get married and have perfect babies.

“I like you,” he huffs.

“Well, duh, I like you, too, you’re only my closest friend,” you say. You’re tense, waiting for the other shoe to come hurling through the skylight. “Now, tell me.”

“No, sweetheart, I like-like you. Have since I was nine. Miss Boyd’s class, if I’m not mistaken.” There’s a soft thud like his forehead colliding with the wall beside his phone.

You inhale a shaky breath. He’s kidding, and it’s a prank. Your heart races, and you want to curse him out for picking on you. He should know better. Right?

“Steve,” you warble, “please tell me you’re joking.”

There’s more shuffling, muffled voices, and you think you’ve just exposed one long drawn out joke. You’re about to hang up with what’s left of your dignity when he says:

“Are you rejecting me?”

He sounds almost mad. Hair ruffled, skin on edge. How you imagine his father might sound just before one of his awful fits. But there’s something much softer to Steve, more understanding. Hurt like a child.

Still, you can’t help your suspicion.

“Quit it. I know it’s a joke, don’t drag it out.”

“Hey, wait a second,” he urges, “It’s not a joke. I like you. A lot.” He says it so softly, your heart just might believe him. As if all the stars have aligned, and he’s actually confessing his feelings for you. You didn’t think the stars did that. Not really, anyway.

There’s a new tune to his voice you’d almost name teasing, “c’mon, don’t leave me hangin’.”

And just like that, he’s back in school again, fawning over you from a distance, finding any excuse to tag you during recess only to avoid you in class so you wouldn’t see him blush. He’s back to whispered secrets through the phone at midnight so his parents wouldn’t catch him. He only ever told you what wouldn’t give him away. He’s back to not letting you pay for your ice cream and shrugging it off with a smile. He’s back, and he might just be yours.

“I—Sorry, you like me? Like like-like, like enough to ask me on a real date?” you huff. He chuckles.

“Well, that last part kinda depends on whether or not you like me back. But yes, I like-like like like-like you.”

You spin to face the living room only to be confronted by an empty popcorn bowl and two fidgety, blushing, wide-eyed teens. They urge you for answers, gesturing wildly and wiggling towards you across the floor.

“Of course, I like you. I thought you knew.”

“Everyone keeps saying that. I guess I was too distracted,” he admits.

“I guess we both were,” you say, unable to keep a grin from your face, succumbing to joy as your fingers dance along the telephone cord.

“So, how about that date?” It escapes him barely above a whisper. He can’t believe he’s actually saying it after all this time. The only thing that convinces him it even came out is your soft laughter.

“Sounds wonderful!”

“Good!” he coos.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Great, yeah. That’s… I can’t wait.” He’s earnest until his cheeks hurt, and Robin teases him for it.

“Tomorrow, it is,” you purr, nearly in tune with the low hum of the receiver, “I’ll call you later.”

“Bye, sweetheart. Don’t forget: I like-like you.”

You smile, slotting the phone back into its place. A chorus of giggles erupts at your feet. Spin the bottle had been a good idea, after all.

stranger things masterlist

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fluff #stranger things x reader #x reader #x fem!reader #spin the bottle #friends to lovers

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screamlet · 2 months ago

Note

♞: Caring for each other while ill

thank you for the prompt! have another 1.2k of fluff, this time set during the summer between s7/s8 when bucktommy was new and anything we wanted it to be, lol. from the nonsexual acts of intimacy prompt list

---

On a really good, horny day, Buck might be strong enough to haul Tommy off his living room floor and drop him on the couch. That's not one of those days, though: Buck is sick, Tommy is sick, and they might be better off dying together in each other's arms on the floor of the loft.

"I should just go home."

"Tommy, you fainted when you tried to put on a sock."

They're lying side-by-side on the floor of the loft; Tommy did try to put on a sock and faint, but Buck caught him before he shattered his skull on the floor. Once he had saved Tommy's life, he felt vertigo kick in and slowly lowered himself to the floor, too, where he and Tommy could lie together for the last 10-15 minutes of their lives.

"I don't need socks to drive," Tommy answers.

Buck laughs quietly. "Don't make me laugh, everything hurts."

"It's too early for flu season, it's the fucking Fourth of July."

"Eighth."

"It's the fucking Eighth of July."

"You know, the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4th, but on July 8th at 12 PM, it was read aloud in public for the first time."

"So… Happy Public Declaration of the Declaration of Independence Day?"

"It's a little wordy."

"Just a little."

"And it doesn't need to be flu season for my niece to get us sick." Buck turns his head and pouts. "I'm sorry you're sick. I'm sorry I'm sick, too, but I'm more sorry you're sick."

"Don't apologize. People get sick sometimes. This'll probably be the last time I'm sick, though, since I'm gonna die from this, whatever it is."

"No you're not." Suddenly Buck's eyes widen as he flails at Tommy. "Are you? You don't have like a compromised immune system or anything? Are you actually dying? Tommy, we're first responders, why haven't we called 9-1-1?"

Tommy's eyes close for a beat. "I'm not dying, I'm just a very melodramatic 39-year-old man who doesn't want to be sick in front of this guy he really likes."

"Oh," Buck says.

Tommy turns his head to look at Buck. "I'm sorry. I was saving that for my deathbed confession, but that could be now. You can't cringe at a guy's deathbed confession, Evan. It's the law."

Buck doesn't—he doesn't know how to—how he can talk to Tommy. He doesn't know how to keep up with him when he's so—he's funny and flirty and sexy and sometimes he seems so serious that everything in Buck's soul quakes in a way he doesn't understand because he's never felt it before. There's a hundred, a thousand things Buck wants to say to him: he wants to flirt back, he wants to be funny, he wants to say something that will get Tommy to smile in this way he has, when the grin breaks across his face like a sunrise Buck stayed up all night waiting to see. He's so—he's so much, and Buck wants so much.

Buck softly replies, "Okay, I won't."

Tommy's eyes soften, too, like Buck had done or said any of the things that might make Tommy fall in love with him. He hadn't, though. Maybe Tommy just likes him.

"Is it more embarrassing to DoorDash Gatorade and more cold medicine, or to text Eddie and make him our DoorDash guy?" Buck asks.

Tommy's eyes crinkle a little. "Do you think either of those entities have the capacity for shame?"

"No, it's me, I'm ashamed. Which is more embarrassing?"

"Well how about this." Tommy closes his eyes and sighs as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone like it's made out of lead. "You keep your shame and I will get a whole pharmacy delivered to your door, and no one will ever know that you have a cold, too."

"Now it just sounds silly. It's fine, I'll do it."

Tommy swings a hand to Buck and holds it out. Buck rolls his eyes and takes it, links their fingers together. "Let me treat you to some electrolytes and cold medicine before we spend our 48 off on this floor, choking on our own phlegm."

"Yeah, not even each other's," Buck says. "I bet your phlegm tastes great."

It slips out of Buck's mouth and makes Tommy stutter and laugh with his whole achy body. Buck's so embarrassed and so proud and so embarrassed, but how can he want to wither and die when Tommy's looking at him so—

The way Buck looks at him? This warm look like—like he can't look away from Buck, the way Buck can't look away from him.

"I can't believe you've been depriving the queer community of hits like that all these years," Tommy replies, still grinning at him. Buck squeezes his hand and hopes this lightheaded feeling is just—it's that he likes his boyfriend, not that worms are eating his brain or anything.

"Hey, uh." Tommy's hand has loosened around Buck's. Buck wants him back, but maybe he's letting go for a good reason. Or a bad one. Buck doesn't care, he wants it back. "So I'm gonna build this delivery order to end all orders, and then maybe…"

"Maybe…"

Tommy turns his head, but he looks less confident than he did 90 seconds ago. "I know we had really amazing plans for this 48 off, so many things we were going to do to each other's bodies that didn't involve cold compresses and acetaminophen. But now that's all been crushed… would it be so bad if we… like if we still, I don't know, spent them together?"

Buck stares at him, long enough that Tommy looks away and shakes his head. "Never mind, I was—"

"Tommy, you fainted trying to put on a sock," Buck interrupts. "You're not leaving here until I say you can."

"I mean, that sounds very hot and in charge of you, but this was supposed to be a fun little weekend. You didn't sign up for—"

"Yes I did," Buck says. "You're gonna stay here until we're strong enough to fuck each other's brains out again. Upstairs. On the bed." Buck links his fingers with Tommy's again and squeezes (clutches) his hand. "It might take a while. We might even need to take a sick day."

There's something around Tommy's eyes that Buck wants to rub away. Tommy, his fun Tommy, the one who's been funny enough to keep him on the floor for this long, is slowly coming back, but Buck wants—he wants. He wants to be the one to say or do the thing that gets Tommy to stop thinking dumb things like is he gonna kick me out of his house when I'm sick. Just like Tommy makes him laugh and think, Buck wants to be the one to—

He just really wants to be something, mean something, to him.

"If you mean it." Tommy lets out a long-suffering sigh. "If you'll have me, Evan Buckley, I would really like to take a sick day with you."

Buck nods with more confidence than he actually has. "Good. Cause you're gonna. Add some popsicles on there, too."

"Oh, good idea, you're very smart."

Tommy flashes him a grin that makes Buck an even weaker puddle on the floor. Good thing he doesn't have to get up yet so he can lie here, watching Tommy order them Gatorade and popsicles and cold medicine, and try not to fall in love with him.

#911 fic #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan #tevan fic #my writing #my fic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #writing games #writing games: acts of intimacy

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tfatwsbarnes · 2 months ago

Text

male bird courting | tlou jesse

summary: 3 times jesse embarrassed himself acting tough +1 time it worked

pairing: au beefcake!jesse x sunshine fem!oc — oc has no name, just referred to as ‘pretty girl’. more of jesse’s POV!

word count: 4.7k

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, death and sexual themes (no smut), romance, kissing and jesse being somewhat of a meathead. this is meant to be silly and cliche!

a/n: this will have inaccuracies of characters everywhere bc this is purely self indulgent. also the horde that happened on the show has been changed bc i said so. CALL IT AN AU IF YOU WILL. I have an oc locked IN but obvs imagine whomever as there’s minimal description! this idea came to me from the one scene of jesse in his slutty black t-shirt hammering away. mhm.

gif credit @pedgito

The first time was when Tommy Miller brought her to the stables whilst Jesse and Ellie were tossing hay bales for the stables.

"This is where our livestock are kept. The Jackson community — established and taken in by Maria and her father — helped build this from the ground up." His gravelled voice travelled far enough for Ellie Williams and her friend, Jesse, to halt their hauling of hay bales.

"Who is that?" Jesse asked as he watched the backs of Tommy and the new stranger tour around the stables, hands patting a few of the horses hoofing at the dried mud for some treats.

Ellie shrugged, "Haven't seen her before."

As the pair disappeared round the corner, Jesse caught a glimpse of her side profile, dimple so apparent as her eyes crinkled whilst speaking with the younger Miller brother. He didn't need an up close inspection to deduce that whoever Tommy was touring around the Commune; she was an outstanding level of beautiful.

Ellie swatted him to get back to her least favourable task, hoping Jesse would take the brunt of it so they could finish early and head back so she could stop by Dina's to smoke.

As they resumed, talking amongst themselves in between grunts of throwing the heavy stacks of hay, Tommy and the new resident rounded the stables and made a direct bee-line to where they were finishing up.

"Jesse, Ellie." Tommy called, "I want you to meet our new resident of Jackson." He gestured toward her, both of them halting their competitive hauling of the last of the bales. Tommy smiled, "I was jus' giving her a tour of the Commune before setting her up. This is Ellie Williams, she came here with my brother Joel, that you jus' met back there."

She nodded to confirmation before smiling and reaching a hand out to Ellie to shake as she announced her name. It took Ellie by surprise, nobody of their age really shook hands as a formal introduction. Also, most physical contact was limited since the Outbreak; people were suspicious of transmittable viruses.

"And this is, Jesse, uh—Jesse." Tommy internally cringed, not knowing the younger male's surname.

"Jesse Jesse, huh?" She teased as she went to shake Jesse's hand, "I won't forget that."

Jesse made quick work to rub off the majority of the clammy sweat on the palm of his hands, "Aha—" I won't forget you, he thought to himself, "—You just arrive here?"

"Just last night." She didn't go into further detail as she stepped back in line with Tommy Miller, her confidence shrouded by whatever history she had beyond the walls of the Jackson Commune.

Jesse nodded with a little more vigour than expected, flicking his hair from his eyes as he wanted to encourage her to speak more for his own self indulgence. Her voice was honey-coated, her tone dripping with an essence that enticed him in a Siren-like way. He was already stuck.

As Tommy, Ellie and the new girl continued the conversation, Jesse blinked a couple of times as he stared so obviously at her. The Spring Sun beaming on her skin, although, he thought, the glow was radiating from within her. Her doe-eyes scrunching as Ellie made a crude joke, that dimple he had noticed in full effect making him almost whimper like a kicked dog.

She spared him a glance with a friendly smile, and he felt himself turn to goo, a lopsided smile showing on his face.

Get it together, Jesse.

He straightened up, his chest puffing outward, arms crossing over his torso as he made an effort to pronounce his biceps. The cuffs of his black t-shirt straining against his muscles. Immediately, he rid of the grin on his face, tightening his jaw and pulling his brows into a sultry furrow. Eyes narrowed, although the sun was beating on his back — minor details, really.

Suddenly, Jesse was attempting to make himself three times bigger than he was, nodding along to Ellie who spared a second glance at him; her brows furrowing for a separate reason to his.

"Well, hate to cut this short—" Tommy cut in as Ellie mouthed a 'What the fuck are you doing?' to Jesse. The Miller male clapped his hands together, "—I gotta show her where she will be stayin'."

"It was nice meeting you both." She was genuine in her statement, both Ellie and Jesse catching the subtle lisp in her speech.

Jesse remained stoic and, well, large as he nodded, his lips pressed outward to give off a pout — it was then Tommy's turn to side-eye the guy.

"Likewise. If you like the horses, I can show you more of them. Maybe, even ride me—" The incidental sentence was out before his brain could compute to filter it. Eyes going wide, Jesse felt mortified as all sets of eyes stared at him, exasperated by what his sentence insinuated so soon after meeting the new resident. Knuckles going white as he dug his fingernails into the palm of his hands, Jesse huffed out a nervous laugh, "I meant, I meant ride them with me."

He had fumbled. He knew it.

It was only when a small, knowing smile crossed her face that Jesse let out a breath he had been holding. His broad shoulders deflating as the heat of embarrassment reached the top of his ears. He couldn't recall being this fucking sloppy with his game when he first met Dina. Even then, he had just met this girl, there was no immediate intention of scoring her in bed.

"Alrigh. . ." Brows furrowing for a moment, Tommy let a chuckle escape his lips as he watched Ellie press her lips into a thin line to prevent any laughter escaping. "Well, we'll be goin'. Thanks for y'all's help with livestock — Ellie, Joel was askin' for ya to swing by for some food later tonight." He tipped his head as a goodbye and guided the new girl away from the stables.

As they left, Ellie scoffed the request from Joel, soon ridding her thought of it as she turned to Jesse.

"What?" Jesse didn't want to know what. Actually, he wanted his question to be rhetorical.

"You were like a fucking male bird." Ellie stated making Jesse raise his brows. She dropped the string that held the hay bale together before hunching her shoulders, emphasising her arms as she mocked his pout, "Save a horse, ride me! All you needed was a couple of bright feathers sticking out of your ass." She laughed.

Jesse stared at her blankly as she mocked him further.

"Shut up and get the last of this bale on the trailer, so I can go get a drink." He picked up the penultimate bale with ease, cursing himself for how he acted as he watched her frame becoming smaller in the distance side by side with Tommy Miller.

Ellie, in fact, did not shut up that night.

The second time was a handful of weeks into Spring later. He had been watching Ellie spar with another Patrol member in the barn, offering her insight in how to retaliate in an appropriate manner towards her sparring mate. Back leant against a wooden pillar, and arms crossed as his eyes watched for any faults as they resumed their sparring, the door to the barn slid open; earning a turn of his head in interest.

He would've chastised whoever it was, if it weren't the leader of their Community and the whole reason they could spar so openly and loudly without the infected blitzing through.

Maria Miller watched as Ellie and the male continued their fight, Ellie happily pinning her component down with his arm twisted behind his back. Next to her stood the whole reason why Dina and Ellie nicknamed Jesse "Captain Male Bird" for a week after his incident upon meeting the pretty girl.

Immediately, Jesse pushed himself off of the pillar and walked toward them with a big grin on his features. He had seen her in passing a couple of times after their first introduction, most of the time he had been solely focussed on leading Patrol as she passed in the street with a wheelbarrow, or a horse on rope.

"Hey, Maria." Jesse spoke, acknowledging pretty girl also. He could feel it coming before he could prevent it from happening. As Maria greeted him, he crossed his arms across his chest, hands beneath his biceps to push the meat of his muscles out. Chin slightly tucked as he clenched his jaw, his eyes darting to the female who was staring past him at the pair fighting.

OK, he almost felt offended. But, then she looked back to him and offered another one of her smiles — dimple present — and he forgave her. No questions asked.

"Ellie is coming along in her sparring." Maria complimented, "Jesse, you'll now have this one in Patrol starting two weeks from today. She will be under your watch so I need you to put things in place for her to be prepared for Patrol in fourteen days."

Jesse didn't miss a beat, "Of course." He looked in her god damn pretty eyes, his tongue going fat, "You'll be under me—I mean, under my watch. I'll look after her, Maria."

The heat of embarrassment scorched in the tips of his ears, but neither women paid mind to his minor slip up as Maria bid farewell; leaving them to stand together. Partially alone for the first time.

Think of something. Anything! Jesse clambered at ideas to talk about, being mindful not to present a topic where he would trip over his tongue the minute she looked him directly in the eyes and entranced him with her tone. Speak about the fucking wheelbarrow, how good she looked wheeling it away — no. Scratch that.

"Is this part of training?" She asked before Jesse could finalise a topic to talk about with her.

Thankful, Jesse hummed, "Yeah. Sort of. A slim chance, but if you come toe-to-toe with a Raider, it's best to have some quality fighting skills under your belt. We try not to play dirty together, but it doesn't matter out on the field."

"A raider is a raider, right?"

"Right." Jesse affirmed, "You won't have to worry about all that though."

She looked up at him, "How so?"

"Well—You'll be with me."

"Oh, they go running when they see you?" She teased and Jesse let a smile slip past his brooding facade. She hummed, rolling onto the heels of her feet, "Can I try?"

"Ellie and Karl are done." Jesse watched the pair shake hands, wiping their noses of blood, Ellie quick to throw a wave to the girl standing next to him.

As Ellie approached, pretty girl quipped, "I could spar with you?"

Jesse and Ellie shared a laugh and the girl questioned their humour. She was smaller in frame compared to Jesse, in height and weight. Presumably, he had years of experience on her head even when they were similar in age. It would be out of the question, a record breaking fight that lasted a second.

There was a shine of disappointment in her face and, well, Jesse didn't like that he caused the wrinkle between her brows.

"OK. One round." Ellie gawped at Jesse as he casually put his hands on the pretty girl's shoulders, guiding her to the middle of the barn. He craned his neck to look back at Ellie, who began shamelessly flapping around like a bird. His middle finger went up.

Pretty girl turned around as they reached the middle of the barn, her eyes shifting to the horses pulling at the Play & Hay ball she had tied up for them in their pens that morning. Jesse watched as her face filled with glee, excited they were playing with them after she begged a few of the farmers to let her use them.

How could he possibly fight her?

Regardless, this was a chance to impress her. Gently. He didn't want to break any bones in her body, but he wanted to reaffirm that he could protect her against Raiders with his fighting skills.

"OK." He started, feet parting as he took his stance, "We'll take it slow, I'll go easy for you. Assess my movements and counteract them, if you can."

"Got it." She straightened up, her arms swinging back and forth to warm herself up for their spar. Ellie gave her a thumbs up from behind Jesse and she gave a playful wink.

Jesse wasn't jealous of that. No. But, he wouldn't let it slide as he took the opportunity of her distraction to advance toward her, he wouldn't be aggressive but he would prove a point that distraction could result in fatality on Patrol. No matter if he found her attractive or not.

As his stronger arm came out to grab her, Jesse's vision of the barn went from upright, to upside down, to finally staring up at the wooden slacks of the roof as the wind got knocked out of him; the dust between the hay unsettled and puffed into the air from the sheer force of his body landing in it.

He let out an 'oof' on impact, attempting to lift his head, before he saw a fist strike down like thunder. The sheer force knocking his head back into the concrete beneath the hay and his vision knocked black as he laid unconscious.

When he woke, he could hear the commotion around him, his eyes still bleary as he groaned out.

"Oh my god!" Her voice filtered through and Jesse furrowed his brows, hands coming to his chest, "Oh my god—I'm so sorry, I—I just got a fright, oh my god, Ellie, what do I do?"

Ellie's laughter came in thick, "That was fucking amazing!"

Jesse scrunched his eyes shut, before blinking a few times to get his vision back, two figures knelt above him. He went to sit up, only to feel the severe ache throb at the back of his head, stars shining vividly in his vision allowing him to gently be pushed back down. His head cushioned by a jacket.

"Jesse, I am so sorry." She whined, "Just lay there for a minute. You might have a concussion."

"Go slow and easy, he said." Ellie threw her head back, clutching her stomach as she found hilarity in the situation. She huffed a few breaths as pretty girl tended to the gash on the bridge of Jesse's nose.

Recollection from his short-term memory began, "What the fuck."

"Where did that even come from?" Ellie questioned, sitting on her backside, watching Jesse slowly come to his senses.

"Well. . . Before the outbreak, my dad had me going to self-defence classes the minute I could walk and talk, really." She mumbled an apology as Jesse hissed from the ache in his nose, she looked to Ellie, "I guess, reflexes never really go away."

"Reflexes? You threw a man twice your size over your shoulder! You have got to show me some moves." Ellie pleaded, her cheeks flushed with giddiness.

"Of course. . . Are you OK, Jesse?"

From the floor, Jesse tried to keep a cool composure, finally zoning back into the situation. The concoction of the dull throb from his brain being rattled against his skull and the pure mortification of being knocked unconscious so suddenly after claiming subtle bragging rights to being the winner of the spar even prior to beginning made Jesse link his fingers together, resting on his stomach as he silently processed his defeat.

He pulled an expression of coolness, pretending to shrug off his ego being bruised.

"I'm good." He shrugged.

"I am so sorry, again." Her fingers carefully brushed his hair from his forehead, a playful smile reaching her lips, "I'll go slow and easy next time."

"Help me up."

The third time was almost a sign for Jesse that pretty girl was a bad omen to his usual calm and collected cool nature.

The fourteen day window of training and education on their Patrol logistics had come to an end and Maria was satisfied enough with pretty girl's knowledge and understanding in depth for her to branch out on a Patrol day. She had gone with Jesse to see Maria, fist pumping as she walked out of her office, her hands shaking Jesse's bicep from glee at her green light to patrol.

There was a naivety to her excitement. He could count on one hand how many people were eager to go on patrol missions. Ellie and Joel, and him. The people tending to the other aspects of the Jackson Commune, tended not to stray far from the confides of their sector, understandably warranted, of course.

Albeit nervous as he felt a great responsibility to keep her safe, Jesse fed into her excitement, praising her for her hard effort; also offering gratitude for lending a helping hand with the sparring.

Their encounter kept between him, her and Ellie. And, Dina. Not that he knew about that.

"You’ll attend the brief with the other patrollers before heading out tomorrow." He advised to her.

"OK. Wow—This is kind of exciting, right?"

"If you like this kind of stuff, yeah." Jesse shrugged, "You're not nervous?"

She nodded, "Yeah. Last time I came face to face with an infected, I almost died." She shivered at the memory, "And, I've met some Raiders. They gave me a nasty scar, the width of my shoulder to my belly button. It's pretty ugly."

"I don't think there could be a correct sentence where you and ugly related." Jesse spoke confidently, without fumbling over his words. They had, had enough time together for Jesse to relatively overcome his bad case of 'fat tongue' around her.

Especially after the barn incident, pretty girl had whipped up a cake with icing that wrote 'Haven't had any complaints yet.' referring to her running joke asking about how his head was after it being smacked so viciously against concrete. They had shared the cake together, their conversation flowing effortlessly meaning Jesse could feel himself falling harder for her.

They had spent a good amount of time together over the fourteen days, so, Jesse felt more at ease and less male bird courting female bird poorly.

Pretty girl blinked at his compliment, "Thanks, Jesse." He smiled down at her, finally feeling a win was on his side as he held the door open for her to the Tipsy Bison for a celebratory drink.

The bar was relatively busy, it was a Friday night and most of the Commune had fulfilled their duties to the community, leaving them some wiggle room of two rest days. Thus meaning, their bellies would be full of whatever alcoholic beverage of their fancy to wash away any wandering thoughts back to times they prayed to forget.

It was pretty girl's first time there. She wasn't particularly a heavy drinker, but she had her fair share of hangovers throughout the years. There was no initial plan to get that drunk, seeing as her first ever patrol was the next day and, although she was aware of Jesse's state of the obvious soft spot for her, she didn't take advantage of the fact that he would easily take that 'Patrol Privilege' away.

A few heads turned upon their entry, mostof them turning back to their conversations, aside from Ellie and Dina who were waving at the pair from a corner far into the room. Hadn't it been for their relatively vigorous hand waving, Jesse and pretty girl may have not seen them for how dimly the scene was lit.

As she averted her gaze elsewhere, Jesse watched on as both Ellie and Dina frantically pointed at his hair, incoherent with their mouthing. Nevertheless, Jesse's confidence fell short as he snatched a spoon from the table adjacent to him, inspecting his appearance through the convex mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary, Jesse shared his expression of lack of patience with the two — now snickering — girls.

"Find us a seat. I'll grab the first round." He meant all the rounds that she would like, not that she needed to know that. He caught her feet turning in the direction of Ellie and Dina and he was quick to guide her in the opposite direction with one palm to her waist, "Preferably away from those two."

Heading to the bar, Jesse slipped between two older men finding their sorrows at the bottom their whiskies, waving down the bartender, Seth, to order drinks. Elbow leant, regrettably, against the sticky surface, Jesse turned his attention to where pretty girl had chosen their seats.

She sat, a polite smile on her face as a man towered above her. Whatever the conversation was, her body language was reading anything but comfortable.

Immediately abandoning his position at the bar, Jesse bee-lined for her, his chest puffing and jaw clenched for the opposite reason in which he's used to doing so. His large palm came into contact with the other male's arm, firmly turning him on the spot away from pretty girl, and in the direct pathway of Jesse.

"Hey, buddy. My girlfriend isn't interested." He deepened his voice an octave and pretty girl's eyes went wide, her hand pressing against her forehead as Jesse mean-mugged the stranger.

"Girlfriend? You didn't tell me you were dating?"

". . . Jesse—This is my brother."

The horde came in with little warning. Fingers splintered as they desperately clawed themselves entry into the Commune, jaws snapping at the hunger for flesh. Bullets ricocheted off the surroundings, some hitting a few stragglers but not enough to keep them at bay as they broke through the barrier that separated the living from the dead.

Eager to protect and maintain the quality of their Commune, all hands were on deck, aside from the obvious candidates that didn't fit the role of protectors of Jackson. Guns in hands, the walls and streets were manned as the residents shot from all angles to prevent the horse from advancing within their home.

It was no easy feat, as all kinds of infected clambered in, taking down people whose guns didn't protect them enough against the onslaught occurring. In amongst the chaos, Jesse was shooting down what he could, his knife unsheathed as he took on some Clickers that were feasting upon defenceless residents that had been knocked over.

Kicking the deceased Clicker down, making a point to put a bullet through its head as it hit the concrete beneath it, Jesse assessed the situation around him; his breath wavering as he watched the people he had grown close to be mowed down.

Their training had prepared them for this. It had been expressed as a rarity, if not, completely out of the question that an infected horde would breach their safe haven in Wyoming and they'd be left to fight for all their livelihoods that was meticulously built for years and years. Regardless of their preparation, the ultimate shock of these creatures making an appearance was a hard pill to swallow. Even for the likes of Jesse.

Gun lifted, Jesse popped a few Runners, grunting as he reloaded, his ears ringing with the cacophony of wails of the dying members of their community. He could feel the bile scorch in his throat, stepping over dead bodies to get a cleaner shot at the infected.

Exhaling through his nose, he shot down another Runner, his aim faltering as he spotted pretty girl amongst the moving bodies, the butt of her gun being brought down on an already confirmed dead infected. Her face sprayed with human blood, eyes widened with fear as she stumbled away from the corpses.

He took a step forward, calling her name out making her snap her head towards where she heard the faint call. Lips parted and chest heaving, she waved casually at him as if they were crossing paths on an ordinary day in the Commune. For a moment, he chuckled at her gesture, waving back before locking back in — bullets flying through the air as he made his way across the street to her.

Continuously delayed getting to her, the fight continued for longer than anticipated. It seemed there was an endless amount of infected bustling through the broken gates, a Bloater spotted feet above the rest. This had sent a few people reeling, the shooters from above doing their best to take it down to no avail.

Tommy Miller took that task on the moment he saw the Bloater heading his wife's way.

Bloater distracted, Jesse lost sight of her, his head snapping in all directions, anticipating the worst. There was a moment of turmoil, before he spotted her further away, helping the injured but not bitten people up by the arms whilst she shot in the opposite direction.

Amidst the carnage of the bloodbath, pretty girl looked angelic to Jesse, although slick with mud and blood, her gritted teeth bared as she released an unquenchable anger on the infected close by. If they made it out of it alive, Jesse ought to ask her on a proper date. What else has he got to lose?

Her back turned for a moment, kneeling to help a woman up, and Jesse watched in real time as a Clicker advanced to her defenceless body, her name leaving his mouth in sheer panic before he broke out into a sprint; feet pounding against the ground to get to her.

The Clicker had managed to catch her off guard when she turned, a scream escaping her throat as it slammed her into the ground, its fungal blossomed head inches away from hers as she fought hard against it.

She closed her eyes shut tight, a cry replacing the scream as her arms became tired from holding the heavy body away from her. Nobody particularly wanted to die when the time wasn't right, but the odds didn't look to favour her as she grew weaker.

As her hands slipped, she braced for impact of the infected sinking into the meat of her neck, her breath caught at the back of her throat as she watched Jesse throw the Clicker off of her body, his face thunderous as he took his steel-toe capped boot and brought it down on the Clicker's head. The sheer force of the stomp killed the Clicker, but he didn't stop.

Boot squelching in the residue of the innards of the Clicker, Jesse cocked his gun and put a bullet through its chest for good measure. He was seething, the muscles in his arms flexing as he continued his battery on the singular — what once was — threat.

The heels of her hands pressed into the ground to hold her weight, pretty girl watched Jesse with her mouth agape. Her eyes trailing over his body, he could've been a sculpture carved out of marble. She blinked a couple of times, brought back to the present as Jesse turned to her, broad chest heaving as he offered a hand out to help her up.

As he helped her up, he rattled out, "I thought I told you to watch your back during our training."

"You told me not to worry." She stammered over her breathlessness, "Because I had you."

Jesse mulled it over and shook his head, "I did not mean—"

"—Will you shut up and give me a kiss."

Jesse didn't even hesitate. Feverishly, he pulled her in by her hand, throwing it over his shoulder as his hands pressed firmly across her back. Lips pressed against each other as their chests met, Jesse smirked into her lips, the idea of her feeling his toned muscles beneath his clothes. Despite his warranted cockiness, if pretty girl concentrated hard enough, she’d be able to feel the immense pounding of his heart. The endless amounts of showing himself off in front of her, resulted in a desperate anticipation to see if she felt an ounce of the same as he did. Even if she didn’t have half of the feelings, Jesse had enough to spare for the both of them.

Her delicate hands slipped from behind his head and onto his pecs, Jesse flexing them as the palms of her bloodied hands pressed against the fabric of his shirt. He was in such a state of euphoria, he couldn’t hear Maria Miller shouting harshly at them from the tops of the walls — pretty girl neither.

She pulled away slightly, their lips still brushed against each other, “I felt like a female bird being courted just now.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He pressed another kiss to her lips as she laughed.

Jesse was going to kill Ellie Williams.

#🔖 koolie writes #this is so pathetic #i couldn’t help myself #even w/ bad writing and plot #the last of us #tlou #jesse tlou #jesse x fem!oc #jesse tlou fic #jesse tlou imagine #joel miller #ellie williams #pedro pascal #young mazino #gabriel luna #jesse jesse lmao

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