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shellshocklove · 4 months

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does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

next part -> here! i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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luvtak · 1 month

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when you know, you know ✭ yji

✭ genre/tw sugary sweet fluff, est. relationship, innie being very sweet, innie and reader being so in love its sick, ‘tiny’ used as a petname, like one swear word ? mostly unedited

✭ w/c 1005

✭ a/n i wrote this in about 5 hours so it could be so bad, who knows :// also, i was listening to the most sickeningly soft love songs so this is where all my devastation went… i hope you love it!! (divider from @cafekitsune !!)

There's something about the morning air that makes you look like an angel: Flushed cheeks and bitten-red lips, your hair still mussed from his hands. He can’t stop himself from staring at you, eyes sweeping to your form huddled in the corner of the practice room. You didn’t want to be here, adamantly refusing when he woke you up this morning, only agreeing when he told you he’d buy you ice cream for breakfast–a deal that left him exasperated until he tasted the sugary treat from your lips. He was reminded why he loved you then… it was the way the sun glinted off your cheekbones, warm light encasing you in a glow that hit him right in the heart.

When you arrived at practice, greeting all the boys with tight hugs and uncontained grins, the lovesickness started rising up in his throat, and Jeongin did all he could not to embarrass himself in front of his hyungs. He never thought he’d be this gone, so incredibly smitten for somebody, alas the picture you form in his life is endlessly heart breaking.

“You know, in the last ten minutes Innie has looked over here probably five times…” Laughs Seugmin from his place next to you.

“I did notice that, yes.” you respond. In truth, there hasn’t been one moment of your relationship where you haven’t noticed when Jeongin looks at you. Something about his stare being so hot against your skin that even with your eyes closed you would know he was looking.

It makes you shy to think about Seungmin noticing your boyfriend’s devotion– your love is so often a secret, a whisper in the dark, a kiss shared with the light off. A love so intimate that it’s often masked with jokes and incessant teasing, anything to make it seem less than it is. When someone is your whole world, when you could survive just off the air in their lungs, that love is too great to be shared.

Although, you can’t blame Seungmin for noticing. Your boyfriend has looked at you an inane amount of times in the last hour, glimpsing and glaring at you while he should be focused on the choreo. You could count on both hands how many times he’s been yelled at for messing up a step, even now during their break, with Minho berating him, he’s staring at you.

“See! look at that! What a love drunk dummy, Minho Hyung is gonna kill him.” You can only half hear Seungmin, your eyes stuck on Jeongin’s smile, so pretty and all yours. You didn’t want to be here this morning, having plans to laze around the house in nothing but his sweater and watch stupid tv until he got home, but he begged and begged you to join him; cuddling into you and kissing all over your face until you agreed to come. The ice cream he bought you was only the icing on the cake, as sweet as all the kisses he placed on your skin. How happy you are now that you’re here, getting to see your boy smile and laugh and stare. “Oh god, there you go… you’d think you two would be over each other by now.”

Unfortunately, the boy is left unanswered as Jeongin finds himself walking towards you, shit eating grin on full display, love in his eyes and mischief on his tongue. He’s so desirable, so undeniably handsome that it kills you to have other people around.

“Hey loser,” your boyfriend says, “wanna go get a snack?”

��Will that snack be another ice cream cone? Cause if so count me in.”

“Whatever you want, tiny.” he smiles, grabbing your hand to pull you off the floor and out of the room. Arms holding you tight through the hallways of the company, yet before you can go too far, he’s pulling you into an empty room and pressing his skin to yours.

It’s not a hug really, his arms aren’t wrapped around you, but he’s so close to you. His nose is settled in your hair and his hands are so warm around your wrists, and even with your eyes closed you know his eyes are settled on you. He’s looking everywhere, from your sneakers to his sweater that wraps around you. Jeongin thinks you’re the loveliest thing he’s ever seen, and if he was braver he would’ve kissed you in the practice room. He would’ve touched you where the light hit, breathed in your air before stealing the words from your lips. If he was braver he would take the teasing from the other boys, if he was braver he would share his love with the whole world… but it’s so safe like this.

The planet goes silent when he’s alone with you, the only thing on his mind your strawberry kisses.

“You’re so pretty, tiny.” he whispers, his hands coming around your waist to clutch at you, holding on to you like he’ll never get the chance again.

“You’re prettier, Innie, like a daydream.” In any other situation, your words would bring a scowl to his face, but here all alone in this empty room, he can’t help but smile. How lovesick can he be that he doesn’t find your silly confessions corny anymore?

He can’t wait another moment without kissing you, without feeling your life bleed into his. In seconds he’s decided, and without hesitation he’s settling his rosebud lips against yours. The kiss is slow, a profession of everything he won’t let himself say out loud: He loves you, you’re perfect, you’re all he’s ever wanted. He kisses you in place of words that won’t come, his palms encasing your face so delicately, a caress that's been perfected.

After a lifetime he pulls away, leaving you with goosebumps and shaky vision, you understood what he was saying. Heard every word he put into the kiss, felt every feeling he needed you to feel.

He may not be able to love you in more than a whisper, but it’s the prettiest lullaby you’ve ever heard.

#k lables #skz #stray kids #jeongin #i.n #i.n x reader #jeongin x reader #jeongin fluff #yang jeongin x reader #i.n fluff #jeongin imagines #i.n skz #i.n imagine #skz drabbles #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz imagines

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rogueddie · 2 years

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996 hours, 39 minutes and 12 seconds.

Gareth has had enough. It's been long enough. He's sick and tired of waiting- he's taking matters into his own hands. He can't wait any longer. It'll kill him.

"Oh, hey," Steve looks surprised when he opens the door. "Gareth. Uh, what are you-?"

"Are you home alone?"

"What? Yeah, but-"

He grabs Steve by the shoulders, turning him around and directing him into his house, kicking the door shut behind him. He walks them all the way to the kitchen and nudges Steve into one of the seats.

Gareth sits across from him, narrowing his eyes. "Are you a homophobe?"

"What? No!" Steve looks deeply offended at the question, before a more curious, understanding look takes over. "Wait, are you-?"

"No, I just need to make sure you're safe. You don't have a problem with any of that?"

"No, I don't. I'm not an asshole- not anymore, anyway."

Gareth glances at the clock.

996 hours, 42 minutes, 08 seconds.

"Alright... do you like Eddie?"

"What?"

"Eddie Munson. Do. You. Like. Him."

"That- I don't- what- what does that have to- to do with, like, anything?" Steve flushes, shifting uncomfortably.

That's a yes, Gareth thinks, nodding to himself.

"I'm going to send him over here in, like... two, maybe three, hours. He likes horror movies, salted popcorn and diet coke."

"I don't know what you mean."

Gareth sighs, rubbing his head as he glances at the clock again.

996 hours, 42 minutes, 58 seconds.

"I can't deal with his stupid pining anymore," he grabs Steves hands, giving him his best pleading look, hoping his desperation shows. "Just... try one date. Please, for the love of God, I won't survive another day listening to him ranting about your hair."

"What? Wait... does- does he... like me?"

Steves voice is so quiet, timid, it nearly makes Gareth falter. It sounds so much like his little sister, when she lets the cruel shit other kids say get to her.

"Don't let him know I told you, but... yeah. Yeah, Steve, he really likes you."

"Oh."

Gareth can't help but laugh at how starstruck he looks, eyes so wide and awed.

"Wait, what- what does he say about me? You said... my hair?"

"Alright, I'm taking that as a yes," Gareth quickly gets up, waving off Steves excited questions. "Two to three hours, Harrington!"

1,002 hours, 34 minutes, 58 seconds.

Eddie shoves Gareth out the way as soon as he opens the door, immediately starting to pace in his living room.

"You alright?"

"No!" Eddie screeches, eyes almost as wild as his hair. "Steve kissed me!"

"What? Dude, that's great!"

"I know! I just- fuck, I have to thank you for giving him the heads up that I was on the way with his VHS," Eddie grabs both of his hands. "He set up a pillow fort so we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street together. Gar, the movie scared him but he put it on because I like it and... fuck."

"So, it went well?"

"It was amazing."

They sit together, Eddie walking him through every little detail of their date. It just further proves that Steve more than earnt his romantic reputation.

It's also a relief to finally hear Eddie talking with so much joy, and love. Even just talking about Steve, he has a look like he thinks he hung the moon. His own personal sun.

"Hey," Gareth interrupts. "Congrats, man. You deserve this."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #gareth my beloved #steddie fic #ficlet #alittlelaughtime

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alltheirdamn · 5 months

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 8 Stages

Summary: The truth is the hardest pill to swallow. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 9.5k Warnings: **THIS CONTAINS SERIES SPOILERS** violence, blood, angst x1000, language, brief hospital setting, mentions of alcohol, stages of grief, heavy emotions A/N: This was one of the most cathartic and emotional pieces of writing I've ever done.

Masterlist | Ko-fi

You didn’t realize how white your knuckles were until you glanced down at your hands gripping the steering wheel. You hadn’t moved the car a single inch since you saw Bennett’s car. It was the same piece of shit silver sedan he always drove; you’d know it in a heartbeat. Even if you didn’t recognize it, you could spot his floppy blonde hair and lean frame standing on your porch. You mindlessly searched your purse for your phone, dialing Joel’s number. You’d hate yourself for this later, but you needed to lie.

“Everythin’ okay?” Joel answered.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you lied. For your sake, you hoped that your voice wouldn’t be as shaky as your body. “I didn’t mean to freak you out earlier. Why don’t you come over later, okay? I just got home, and my head is pounding.”

“I was ‘bout to leave my house, baby. Can I come over with some medicine and some food? I’ll take care of you,” Joel insisted.

“No!” You panicked. “No, it’s okay. I’ll call you later, and you can come over. I promise.”

“Baby, y’sure you’re okay?”

You inhaled sharply, your eyes glued to Bennett only yards away. God, you were terrible at lying, but if Joel knew Bennett was here, you’d be left with a dead body in your front yard.

“I’m fine, Joel,” you sighed. “Just need some rest.”

“I’ll be waitin’ for you to call,” Joel said. You could hear the defeat in his voice.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“See you later, baby.”

You couldn’t hang up the phone fast enough. Joel would hate you for lying, but you needed to do this—whatever it was—alone. Everything in your life had been flipped on its head in just a week, and now, the man who had broken your heart beyond amends was standing at your front door. You weren’t sure if you would survive this.

Taking your foot off the brake, you rolled your car into the driveway. Bennett glanced at your car as you put it in park, his blue eyes piercing through the distance between your bodies. The coldness of his stare was just the same as it was two years ago; nothing about him had changed.

Your legs could barely hold up your trembling body as you exited the car and made your way to the porch. Bennett wore a casual business suit, the pale blue dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, and his black slacks hugged his long legs. He hadn’t changed one bit. He was always the businessman.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You questioned, bounding up the porch steps.

Bennett eyed you as you got closer, shifting his weight and drinking you in. You were well aware of your appearance: the long work day had left your hair tousled and your blouse wrinkled from sitting at your desk. You spent two years imagining what seeing him again would be like, and in every stupid imagination, you weren’t looking worn down and tired. You imagined you’d be triumphant and strong, but you were small again in his shadow.

“Hello to you, too,” Bennett grinned. Your name off his tongue was venomous, a slow, poisonous drip that ran through your veins. Compared to Joel’s accent drawling out your name, Bennett said it like a curse.

“I’ll ask you again, Bennett. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Bennett’s hands twisted together in front of his body, and your eyes caught the sun’s light radiating off a golden band sitting snugly on his left hand. He was married. You steadied your body's sway, your vision blurring around the edges.

“You’re— you’re married,” you stammered.

Bennett glanced at his hand, his eyes roaming back to yours with a smug grin.

“Just tied the knot in May,” he shrugged.

“To who? What—. I don’t understand why you’re here.” Your mind was reeling.

“Her name is Natalie. We met through work about a year ago. We hit it off immediately, and I knew she was the one.”

Your knees threatened to buckle, and the strong composure you tried to maintain slipped. Bennett was married. He was in love. And it was to someone else.

“If she’s the one, then why are you here? At my house?”

Bennett looked up at the porch overhang, his eyes tracking over the flowers planted in the yard on the walkway leading to the front door. You saw it in his eyes; you had made this a home.

“Your house,” Bennett echoed.

“Yes, Bennett. My fucking house. The one you abandoned when you ran away.”

Bennett scoffed, tucking his hands into his pocket.

“You still don’t remember, huh?” He asked, tilting his head as he looked at you.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethed. You stepped forward, baring your teeth.

Not only was Bennett here, but he was taunting your memory. Nothing had fucking changed.

“A friend of mine saw you out to dinner with someone a couple of weeks ago,” Bennett started. “I was curious and figured I’d drop by and ask about it.”

You laughed.

“Not only did you leave me, but you got married. And now you want to act like you give a shit about who I date?” You accused. “Are you that fucking cruel, Bennett? Do you have any clue how fucking insane you sound? You have no control over my life anymore. Who I date and what I do is none of your business! You decided that the day you left.”

“I’m here because I care about you,” he defended.

“You never cared about me!” You yelled. “You left me! You have no right to come back. Not now. Not ever.”

Bennett stepped forward, both of you toe to toe. You couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes. Something about the way he stared at you made you rethink his words. He looked concerned; he looked at you like he did care. It was a look you hadn’t seen since before the accident.

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” He asked.

“Know what, Bennett? Stop being so fucking cryptic!”

Bennett opened his mouth to speak, but the words were drowned out by the sound of tires squealing. Your head whipped to the side, your eyes widening as you saw Joel barreling out of his truck and up the yard.

“Joel?” You exhaled.

You told him you’d call him later. You told him not to come here. Why didn’t he fucking listen? Why now?

“Bennett!” He shouted, running up the front steps.

You barely made it out of the way before Joel’s fist sailed into Bennett’s jaw, the sound of bones cracking echoing around you. There was no time to recover or react as Joel grabbed Bennett by the shirt collar, spinning him into the wall and shoving him on his toes. Joel was only a few inches taller than Bennett, but in his grip, Bennett looked smaller than you had ever seen him. Blood dripped from his lip as he whimpered in Joel’s grasp, a deep purple bruise blooming across his cheek and jaw.

“Joel!” You gasped, your voice finally returning.

You ran toward his body, trying to tear him off Bennett’s body. Joel only shrugged away your hands, his fists tightening around Bennett’s collar.

“I told you I’d kill you if you ever came back,” Joel snarled.

You staggered back after hearing his words. What did Joel mean? What was he saying?

Bennett smiled through bloodied teeth, pushing his face closer to Joel’s. His eyes shifted between yours and Joel's, and his lips curled back.

“We both agreed to stay away,” Bennett said. “Then I find out you just couldn’t give up. You came right back to her. Does she even know?”

“Y’have no fuckin’ business to be back here, Bennett,” Joel snapped.

Joel used brute strength to wrangle Bennett to the ground, his arm winding back before he assaulted him with another pound of his fist. Bennett’s face snapped to the side, blood spurting onto the wood-paneled floor. Joel delivered an onslaught of punches, an explosive display of his anger shown in the form of sadistic violence. Never did you imagine Joel to be so cruel, so unforgiving… so terrifying. You watched in horror as Joel terrorized Bennett with strike after strike. You couldn’t stomach it, your body swirling with nausea as more blood pooled around Bennett’s face.

“Joel! Stop it!” You finally screamed.

You threw yourself at him, yanking at his shoulders to try and tear him away from Bennett’s limp body. Bennett’s eyes were hardly open, shallow groans escaping his mouth as he shook his head back and forth. He was hardly recognizable.

“Joel!” You pleaded. “Stop it, please!”

Finally, Joel relented, rocking back onto his heels with blood splattered on his hands and shirt. This wasn’t the man you loved. This was someone else… someone terrifying.

“I’m calling the cops,” you panted, your breath ragged as you tried to swallow down the vomit rising in your throat.

“Don’t,” Joel argued. You didn’t recognize the tone of his voice; it was so harsh and angry.

“I can’t just leave him like this, Joel! Don’t you see what you did to him? I don’t—I don’t know what the fuck just happened. I told you to stay home. I can’t… We need to call an ambulance.”

Joel stood to his full height, glancing down at his hands, their tanned skin battered and bloody. Whoever this man was before you, it was not the man you were falling in love with.

“What are you gonna tell them, baby? Because if they see me like this, I’m goin’ to jail.”

“Are you threatening me right now, Joel?” You gaped. “After everything you just did.”

His eyes met yours, the darkness inside them drowning out the brown you were so familiar with. His eyebrows furrowed together, scrutinizing your body language and disgust as you stared at him.

“Call them,” he grunted. “I don’t give a fuck. I told him what to expect if he ever came back.”

There it was again. That same sentence that confused the hell out of you. It jarred you in an unsettling way, but you pushed it down and focused on the man lying unconscious on the porch. You ran to your car, dug for your phone, and dialed 911.

You remained by your car until the police showed up, their flashing lights and sirens lighting up the fading sun as it drifted into duskfall. Joel sat on the porch steps, his head hung low and bruised hands in his lap. Neither of you had spoken a word since you called the police, and his words to Bennett still swarmed inside your mind. You had lied about the headache to him earlier, but now it was true. And you felt fucking miserable.

Two police officers exited their car, meeting you on the driveway.

“Can you tell us what happened here, ma’am?” One of them asked. He was taller than Joel, his face clean-shaven and creased with aging skin. His hand remained comfortably over the grip of his gun on his utility belt, and you tracked each movement as your heart thumped in your ears.

You swallowed thickly, deciding to do the unspeakable. You lied.

“I came home, and my ex-fiancé was waiting for me,” you explained, meticulously fabricating a story that would save Joel. Despite your confusion, a small piece of you still wanted to protect him. “I called my boyfriend and told him I felt unsafe. I tried waiting in my car, but—but my ex dragged me from the car and was threatening to hurt me if I didn’t let him inside. That's when Joel, my boyfriend, showed up. Everything he did was to protect me.”

The lie tasted bitter as it sat heavy on your tongue. It was hard to remain composed as your headache grew stronger.

“We’ll need statements from both parties,” the officer explained, reaching for a small notepad.

The other officer, a short, tan-skinned man, stayed with you and gathered your personal information. You watched as the first officer approached Joel, your body tense as you worried the stories wouldn’t add up. You lied for Joel. You hoped for both of your sakes he would fuck this up more than he had already.

The blaring sound of sirens jolted you from your fixation on Joel, the ambulance coming to a rolling stop in front of your driveway. The neighborhood was slowly becoming crowded, with watchful neighbors littering the streets and front yards. You shrunk away from their wandering eyes, wishing the world could grow quiet and dark.

Medics bounded up your driveway, a stretcher and medical supplies in hand. You bit your lip to contain the cries threatening to explode. You hated Bennett, but the brutal image of Joel’s fist crushing his face over and over again… you couldn’t erase it from your mind. Bennett was a piece of shit, but he didn’t deserve what happened.

The other officer joined you again, tapping his pen against the notepad. Anxiety wove its way through your pounding headache, straining the air, trying to expel from your chest.

“The medics are working on stabilizing him now,” he explained. “Mr. Miller’s story matches yours, so our next step is prosecution. Is that something you’d like to do, Miss Smith? I recommend filing a restraining order as soon as possible to prevent another incident like this.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” you nodded. “Whatever you think is best.”

The officer cocked an eyebrow at your response, visibly confused. If you were following the path of your lie, a restraining order would make sense, but you also wanted to speak to Bennett after he recovered. You needed answers. You needed answers from him and Joel.

“I’ll give you the contact information for an attorney that can help with the process, but other than that, we have everything we need tonight,” he said. “When your ex-fiance is awake and alert, we’ll gather his statement and file a full report. Medics will transfer him to St. David’s for further evaluations and motoring. If Mr. Miller needs further medical attention, please contact us so we can include it in the report.”

He handed you a business card with his name and number, and slowly, the commotion began to die out. You looked on in horror as the medics wheeled Bennett off in a stretcher, his face swollen and bandaged. He was a hollow version of the man you once considered so powerful. Your memories, your happiness… they were always his. And you didn’t know who owned those things anymore. Everything was crashing down around you, and you had no control.

Joel’s figure was shrouded in darkness as he stood by your front door. The anger still radiated off his body, but it was far more tame than it had been just an hour ago. The medics had cleaned and bandaged his hand, and he kept it cradled to his body. You made a conscious effort not to look at the red stains marring your porch; you’d worry about cleaning the mess tomorrow. You couldn’t stomach the smell and sight of it, not when your mind was plunging further under the pressure of your migraine.

Joel said your name, steering you out of your swarming thoughts. You blinked up at him, your eyes hazy and blurred from tears.

“Why the hell are you here, Joel?” You snapped. “I told you to stay home, so why the fuck did you show up?”

“Somethin’ bout the way you sounded on the phone made me nervous. I’m not sorry I showed up, though,” he confessed. That wasn’t good enough.

“You either explain to me what the fuck just happened, or you leave,” you ordered.

“I can explain everythin’, baby. Can we just go inside?” Joel asked.

“You actually think I’m letting you in my house after you almost killed someone?” You raged. “I don’t even recognize you right now, Joel! And what the fuck did you mean when you told Bennett never to come back? What did he mean when he said you both agreed to stay away? Do you know him, Joel? Have you been lying to me this whole time?”

Joel sighed, his eyes falling to the ground; he couldn’t even fucking look at you.

“Answer me, damn it!” You cried. “Why won’t you answer me!”

“Baby, can we please go in the house? I need you to sit down and listen to me when I explain everythin’.”

“No! I want you to tell me right now.”

Joel nodded, standing idle in front of you.

“I knew about your accident before we met.”

You looked at him horrified, your body frozen.

“How?” You asked. “You didn’t even know me until almost three months ago.”

“I knew ‘bout it ‘cause we were datin’ when it happened,” he sighed. Joel’s features began to soften, and the pain in his voice was almost impossible to ignore.

“No,” you shook your head. “You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not! Would you just listen to me? Please?” He pleaded, stepping forward.

You staggered back, your back hitting the side wall of the house. Your knees barely held your weight as you tried to grasp his words. Joel rubbed his bandaged knuckles, sucking in a breath before continuing.

“You and Bennett broke up after you moved to Austin,” he began. “Y’all had some big argument, so y’moved in with Maria since you were substitute teachin’ at her school—the same school you teach at now. It musta been a couple of months after the breakup, but there was a parent-teacher conference night, and I ran into you. That's how you and I met, baby. That was nearly five years ago.”

Like a saw cutting bone, your headache fractured into a million tiny pieces, each one a sharp stab to your brain as you tried to grasp onto Joel's words. It wasn’t true. He was lying. You were going crazy; all your hard work at remembering everything and moving on was crumbling down, sand through your fingertips you could not keep from falling away.

“No, I know you’re lying,” you denied, tears streaming down your face. “You’re just making some sick fucking joke out of my memory loss. That’s what this is, isn’t it? You saw an opportunity to make up some story after I shared the most traumatic part of myself. You and Bennett…” You heaved in a breath. “No. This—this isn’t true. You’re lying.”

“I’m not! And I can prove it, but let me finish explainin’,” he begged before continuing. “We dated for almost two years, alright? Best fuckin’ years of my life. Y’were the best thing to ever happen to me. You even moved in with me and Sarah! She loved you so so much, baby. We would go to her soccer games together and watch cartoons together. We took her campin’ in the summer before the accident. Everythin’ was amazing. So fuckin’ amazing.”

“Sarah?” You interjected. “She would have said something to me months ago. You can’t expect me to believe this.”

“I begged her not to say anythin’ to you when she started school,” he explained. “I didn’t want you knowin’ till I was ready. I wanted to do this my way.”

“Your way?” You scoffed. “You get to decide when it’s a good time to tell me everything I’ve known is a lie? Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?”

“Everyone wanted to wait ‘til it was the right time,” he defended. “We all hoped you'd remember if I came back into your life.”

You slid down the wall, your body crumbling to the ground. You buried your head in your hands, trying to quell the pain squeezing together inside your head. Nothing made sense. Everything felt like a lie. It wasn’t true. You kept telling yourself that if it was true, everyone you loved and trusted had lied to you for years. You had struggled alone for so long without the truth.

“My parents? My sisters? They all knew?” You muttered. “Everyone kept this from me?”

Joel crouched in front of you, his hand hovering over your leg.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled. You shrunk away from him, curling your legs up to your chest and pressing into the wall.

“The doctors and your parents thought it was best we didn’t mess with your memory,” he said, exasperated. “Bringin’ me into your life when y’didn’t remember me woulda set you back in recovery.”

“So, what?” You laughed bitterly. “Bennett just magically reappeared to save the day? Why did he come back if he and I were broken up?”

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed tight. You shivered against the wind rustling through the yard, your thin shirt barely keeping you warm. Not even the warmth of your tears coating your cheeks could fight the chill creeping through your spine.

“Your parents made the decision to reach out to Bennett,” Joel argued. “And he loved the idea. Bennet loved knowin’ I’d have no access to your life, and he’d have you back.”

“My parents wouldn’t do that. They hate him.” You kept shaking your head, hoping things would begin to make sense.

“They hate him, but they love you more, baby,” he whispered. “And I loved you—I love you—and I was willing to risk it all. If there were some chance you would get your memory back, then I’d be here waiting for you.”

“But I never remembered! I still don’t remember, Joel! So why now? Why did you come back?”

Joel rocked back onto his heels, his body falling back until he sat before you. Tears glistened in his eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. He didn’t have the right to be sad; he fucked up. He lied to you, and now he was paying the consequences. Your indifference and anger would torture him like he had tortured you. Like everyone had tortured you.

“I just wanted the chance,” he admitted. “I wanted to know if that spark was still here between us. I know it’s still there, baby. This is real.”

“Don’t call me baby,” you cried, your voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t real. You lied to me, Joel, and so did everyone else. Everyone decided what they thought was best for me, and I have suffered because of it. Do you not see that?”

“We did it to protect you,” he defended. “Y’gotta understand that.”

You pulled yourself to your feet, tripping over his body and toward the door. You wanted nothing to do with this conversation anymore. You fumbled with the door handle, the tremor of your fingers making your grip weak on the lock. The sound of Joel standing behind you ignited another wave of nerves, and you spun to face him.

“I will never forgive you for this,” you cried.

He stepped forward, his eyes pleading with words he couldn’t say. You shoved at his chest, forcing him away from you. Joel’s brown eyes looked at you as if he could see your heart breaking. He choked out your name, broken syllables that no longer sounded beautiful on his tongue.

“Don’t ever come back here,” you threatened. “Don’t contact me. Don’t contact my family. You need to leave. Now.”

“Please,” he begged. Heavy tears fell down his tanned cheeks, leading to the scruff lining his jaw. You would have ached to soothe his sadness yesterday, but not now. Not when his sadness stemmed from the lies that filled the gaps in your memories.

“Leave!” You screamed, shoving him again.

Joel stumbled back, staring at you wide-eyed and heartbroken. You stepped forward again, your hands ready to push against his chest one more time. He lifted his hands in defeat, walking backward down the porch steps.

“I love you,” he whispered in the night. “I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t wait to see him leave. You threw open the front door and slammed it shut just as fast, your body slumping against the wood as you swallowed down your nausea.

You wanted to vomit.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to stop loving Joel.

The room was spinning around you, and you had no chance to find your bearings before the haze washed over your mind and dropped you to the ground.

Everything was dark around you. You groaned as you peeled yourself from the floor, your head still throbbing. The lies grew louder as you tried to recall everything Joel had said.

I wanted to do this my way.

I love you.

Lie after lie, overlapping in the ocean of pain, threading its way through your body. The house felt colder than you were used to, your body still shivering as you stood on unsteady legs. You walked to the kitchen in search of water; every swallow felt like knives slicing through your throat. You fumbled for the kitchen light, rummaging through the cup cabinet for a glass. Two gray mugs sat snug on the shelf, the reminder of Joel staring straight at you. Another wave of emotions coursed through you, and you reached for them.

You turned them in your hands, the faint smell of coffee lingering on the ceramic. The quiet moment spent together no longer felt special; it felt like a disgusting lie. Joel didn’t guess how you liked your coffee; he knew. He knew everything about you. The rage inside you returned, stronger than it had been on the porch. Your hands squeezed the mugs, and you hurled them into the nearest wall, a scream erupting from your mouth. You didn’t flinch as they shattered. You didn’t blink as they pierced the wall and chipped the paint. This house was built on lies, and you wanted to ruin every inch of it. You reached for another mug, smashing it on the ground before you. Then another…and another, until you stood in a pile of broken shards of your life.

It wasn’t enough.

You walked around the house, shattering anything you could find worth breaking. You stood in the living room and stared at the dust-covered bookshelf, your chest rising and falling. The books crammed on the shelves taunted you, the broken spines and dog-eared pages another reminder of the years you’d never remember. The adrenaline and anger led you to the shelf, and you used all of your strength to push it over. It toppled to the ground, its weight shaking the floor beneath your feet. A few books made their way out of the destruction, their bindings crushed by the downfall.

You staggered back to the couch, slumping into the stiff cushions. Flashes of Joel wrapped around you flooded your mind, and you immediately rolled off of it. Your ass hit the ground, and you crumbled into a ball. Somewhere in the distance, your phone rang, the shrill of the ringer echoing through the destruction you had created. Maybe it was your mom with news of your dad. Maybe it was Beth. But you knew your phone would never light up with Joel’s name again.

You rubbed your temples, trying to massage the ache throbbing in your skull.

You spent another hour on the ground until you finally decided to drag yourself to the bathroom. Under the blinding lights, you stared at the stranger in the mirror. You didn’t recognize her. Whoever she was, she wasn’t the girl you had been hours ago. Your eyes were swollen from crying, your cheeks flushed, and your lips chapped from screaming. The wrinkles in your blouse were worse than they had been after school, the corners untucked from your work pants and splattered with remnants of Bennett’s blood. You didn’t recall ever getting close enough to the bloodshed, but the evidence of Joel’s violence was all over your body. You couldn’t tear your clothes off fast enough.

You turned on the shower and didn’t wait for the water to run warm. The cold spray washed over your hair, and you scrubbed every inch of your body until your skin was raw and red. You ran the loufa over the places on your body Joel had touched: your stomach, your neck, your breasts. There wasn’t enough soap and water to rid yourself of the phantom touches left on your skin. You hated him. No, you wanted to hate him. You shook your head… you hated him.

You hated everyone in your life.

The imprint of Joel’s body was still pressed into the other side of the bed, and you couldn’t stand looking at the pillow he had laid his head on beside you. Those moments you shared under the light of the moon no longer felt special. He knew your body once before; he had seen you stripped bare and spread open. You gave yourself to him willingly, which meant something to you. Stripping off the sheets, you tossed them to the floor, curling up on the cold mattress. Sleep evaded you, so you let the night pass, your eyes watching the hours slip away through the view behind the bedroom window.

Eventually, the sun rose and colored your room in soft morning sunshine. It angered you that the Earth continued to spin; the world hadn’t stopped moving, though you remained stuck in the series of events from yesterday. It was so fucking unfair that people around you would wake up today and move through their day with contentment and happiness. You didn’t know if you’d ever experience those emotions again. You were spiraling into each stage of grief, the overwhelming pressure of them consuming every fiber of your being.

You mustered up whatever energy you had from yesterday to pull yourself from the empty bed. You were numb as you dressed yourself for work, avoiding the mirror as you put on a black dress and flats. You had briefly considered covering your dark circles and puffy eyes with makeup, but your exhaustion and lack of care said otherwise.

Vacating your room, you walked into the mess you had created. Shards of broken dishes and glass littered the floor, the wallpaper torn in areas, and the bookshelf still lying half-destroyed in the living room. A laugh bubbled out of your mouth, the sound foreign and distorted. You did this. Your rage and hatred for everything around you ruined the only haven you had left. You couldn’t contain the laughter as it wracked through your body, tears springing from your eyes as your eyes glazed over the catastrophe of each room. The denial settled back over you when the laughter died, leaving you weeping in an empty house.

As you left the house, you averted your eyes, your self-restraint working overtime not to focus on the blood stains marring the porch. You’d deal with that later. The silence inside your car weighed heavy on you while you drove to the school, your mind numb and empty as you pulled into your parking space. You should have found a substitute for the day, but you needed the distraction. Who knows what would have become of your house if you stayed in it any longer. The idea of setting it on fire didn’t sound so bad.

You decided to lock your classroom door until school began; you didn’t need nor want to see Maria. She was just as much a liar as the rest, leading you on all these months and pushing you toward Joel. That “Happy Hour” night was just a ploy to get you and Joel in the same space; her intentions were never pure. Everyone had blood on their hands in this stupid fucking plan.

The school bell rang, and you hesitantly opened your door. You plastered on the fake smile you had mastered, feeling uncomfortable after the last few months of actually feeling happy. Joel took that away in the span of a night.

As the students filed in, you greeted them with a tight-lipped smile and a brief hello before settling into your desk chair. You weren’t in the right headspace to teach today, so you opted for quiet reading time and a few worksheets: anything to keep the noise levels down and the questions to a bare minimum.

The classes went as smoothly as possible, with only a few outbursts of noise from each class. You hadn’t found the time to cry between each one, too busy finding the courage to face Sarah.

Joel’s voice rang in your head as you watched her walk into the classroom, her curls bouncing with each step.

She loved you so much, baby.

How could you believe Joel when he said something like that? It wasn’t true; it was manipulative. You never knew Sarah until this year. She was just as much a stranger to you as any other student until Joel entered your life. Yes, you cared for her, but you didn’t love her. Even she had been a part of all of this, her last conversation with you was just as much of a lie as everything else. You doubted Joel told Tommy he loved you, and you doubted Sarah even heard the conversation—if there really was a conversation to begin with. She was pushing you toward him like everyone else did.

Everyone had a say in your life except for you. You were a bystander among their choices; nothing in the last three years had been in your control. You were a puppet on a string, tossed everywhere until it pleased them.

“Okay, class, today is just an easy day for you,” you announced, your voice harsh and clipped. “Take out your reading for the next unit and work on chapters one through three. Once you finish, please grab a worksheet from my desk and get started on that.”

A unified groan sounded through the room, and that was your breaking point. Standing from your desk, you leveled the entire desk with a heavy glare.

“I don’t want to hear a single word today,” you snapped. “Open your books and start reading. Please.”

They all looked at you in terror. You had never been one to snap or be quick to anger, but you were teetering on the edge of eruption. One more word, and you would explode. The students sorted their backpacks for their books, the sound of pages rustling the only noise surrounding you. Slumping back into your chair, you sighed heavily and turned to your computer.

An email sat unread in your mailbox, and you clicked it open with a pit in your stomach.

Ms. Smith: My deepest apologies for your recent family emergency. Per the quarterly requirements, parent-teacher conferences must be completed by the end of the week. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to reach out. Many thanks, Principal Edmonds

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck Fuck.

You completely forgot about parent-teacher conferences. In the chaos of the last week, it had slipped your mind entirely. You scrounged through your binder of schedules and pulled out the spreadsheet you had created, skimming through the list to find Sarah’s name. She was the last on the list. Fuck.

Seeing Joel this week would be too soon for the open wound bleeding inside your chest. You created a mock email to send to each parent, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you landed on Joel’s email. You couldn’t avoid just one student during the conferences, even though every atom in your body screamed at you to do it. Without a second to overthink your choices, you sent your mass email and closed your inbox.

As the class continued, students drifted to your desk for their worksheets. Sarah was among the first in the groups to come up; her eyes lowered to the ground, and a frown dragged down her lips. A piece you ached for her; she was just a child amid a web of lies. Then, there was another piece of you that understood Sarah was wiser than you realized. She understood the severity of the situation, yet she continued to persist. Were the soccer games even part of Joel's meticulous plan?

“Miss Smith,” she cautioned.

“Is there something you need, Sarah?” You scowled. You were being harsh, but you couldn’t find a fuck to give about it.

“No. I—uh—I just wanted to ask if things were okay,” she stammered. “You know, between you and my dad. I shouldn’t have said anything yesterday. It was—.”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Sarah,” you interjected. You leaned forward, locking your hands together. “You shouldn’t be worrying about my dating life, nor should you worry about your father’s. I am your teacher, and these conversations need to stop.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her eyes still staring at the ground. “I understand.”

She sulked back to her desk, never looking back at you.

When the final bell rang, you exhaled relief and listened to the class chatter quietly as they packed up to leave. You quickly cleaned your desk, stuffed your things into your bag, and slung it over your shoulder. Maria's voice drifted down the hall before you could lock your door correctly.

“I’ve been trying to catch you all day!” She said, exasperated.

You rolled your eyes, dropping your keys in your bag. Inhale. Exhale.

“Sorry, Maria. I’ve just been busy,” you lied. “I need to get home, okay? We can catch up later.”

“Is everything alright?” She pressed. “Is it your dad? Is he okay?”

You whipped your head toward her, the venom creeping over your tongue. Inhale. Exhale.

“I haven’t had time to check in. I’ve been busy.”

Maria eyed you wearily, the dots connecting in her head the longer she stared at you. She saw the anger plastered on your face; she could hear the bitterness in your voice. Her lips trembled as she tried to piece together something to say.

“Did something happen with Joel…” Her voice drifted off.

“Don’t, Maria. I need to get going.”

You rushed down the hall, leaving her between empty classrooms and lingering students.

St. David’s Medical Center looked the same as it did three years ago. Nothing had changed since you had been rushed here in an ambulance, your life hanging in the balance and memory gone. You’d never forget the moment you woke up in the hospital bed, bleary-eyed and confused.

The brick building towered over you as you entered the ER. You stilled the erratic pulse in your veins before asking a nurse which floor Bennett had been transferred to. You didn’t want to do this—you didn’t want to see him—but you deserved answers that Joel didn’t have to offer. He hadn’t been the one with you the last three years; he didn’t know the other side of the story.

The elevator ride up to the trauma unit was miserable, the nerves building inside you with each passing floor. You weren’t sure what to expect when you entered Bennett’s room, but you hoped for the best. Maybe he’d talk. Maybe he’d scream. Maybe he’d threaten to sue you…or Joel. All of which were valid reactions. The elevator door slid open, exposing you to a fluorescent hallway, a blur of nurses passing by as you walked through the corridor.

The door to his room was shut, but you spotted a petite blonde woman through the cracks of the blinds. Natalie. Dammit, you forgot he had a wife, and that made all of this much more complicated. Sucking in a deep breath, you knocked.

“You aren’t welcome here,” she seethed, cracking the door open an inch.

“I understand, and I’m so sorry. I just—I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I’m at fault for all of this. I really am sorry,” you apologized.

Natalie’s green eyes pierced into you, little daggers jabbing into the places in your heart that were still left intact. She was a few inches taller than you, her frame more petite and athletic than yours. You could understand why Bennett married her; she was perfect. You had no reason to be angry with her for his decisions, but you needed Natalie to know why you needed answers.

“Is he awake?” You asked, attempting to peer over her shoulder into the room.

She quickly blocked your view, moving into the space that allowed you to see in.

“You need to leave,” she snapped. “Our lawyer will contact you, and you can apologize to him.”

“Has he told you anything about me?” You tried a different angle. “If he has, you know why I need to talk to him. What happened yesterday…I had nothing to do with it. I was a bystander in all of it, and I know that doesn’t make the situation better, but I need to talk to him.”

“And I need you to fucking leave!” She raged.

You were defeated, tired, and left with gaps in your memory that would never be filled with answers. Nodding slowly, you wound your hands together, twisting your fingers as you stood, reluctant to leave.

“Listen, when he gets better can you please just—can someone let me know? And if he ever wants to talk to me again, I’d really like to speak with him.”

“Like I said, our lawyer will contact you.”

The sound of movement behind her stirred her away, her head glancing back at the bed. You waited idly, trying to get a glimpse of Bennett. All you could make out was splotchy, swollen skin and bandages covering half his face. When you thought about Joel, a new wave of disgust flooded you. He did this. He not only ruined your life, but he ruined Bennett’s life, too. Joel nearly killed him last night, and the guilt would weigh on you heavily for that.

“Natalie,” you heard Bennett’s voice echo into the hall. It was broken and raw, and you watched the door close in your face as she returned to his bedside.

You remained outside the door for several minutes, not knowing what to say or where to go. This had been your only chance at learning the truth from his side, but Natalie persisted in not giving you the opportunity. You understood, though; you understood her pain.

You made your way down the hall toward the nurse's station. An older woman in blue scrubs looked up at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile.

“Can I help you with somethin’, dear?” She asked.

“Do you mind if I leave my number with you? It’s for the patient down in room 201. I would really appreciate it if you could leave it with him when he gets discharged.”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart. Let me grab a notepad.”

You jotted down your number and left the hospital with tears streaming down your face. Everything was hopeless, completely hopeless. You would never get answers or closure; you’d have to spend however long to accept it and move forward. But that wasn’t good enough. You deserved answers. It was your life you had lost, and everyone else got the pleasure of knowing… everyone except you.

You were too tired to care about the mess when you arrived home. You walked barefoot through the house, tiptoeing around the broken dishes, not bothered by the thought of stepping on the shards. You were numb; nothing would hurt right now. You had no appetite for dinner, so you settled for a glass of wine; at least the buzz would overlap the throbbing pain in your head.

Your phone sat on the dining table, untouched. You hadn’t checked it in nearly twenty-four hours and were scared of what you might find. Despite the anger toward your family, you still worried for your dad. It was hard to push aside the emotions weighing down your chest, but you needed to make sure he was okay.

Taking a long gulp of your wine, you finally checked your phone.

Seven missed calls from Mom

Ten missed calls from Beth

Two missed calls from Stella

You dialed your mom’s number and waited with trembling hands.

“Sweetheart! I was so worried about you. Why haven’t you answered me?” Your mom sounded flustered.

“I’ve been busy,” you lied.

“We’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day. Dad woke up this morning, and everything was okay, like we hoped. He’s going to have a bit of recovery with his hip, but there were no other issues. His memory is fine, and he’s alert.”

That was the tipping point.

“I’m glad he can remember everything. I would really hate it if you had to lie to someone again about their life,” you said bitterly.

The silence was louder than words.

“Sweetie…” Your mom pleaded.

“I know, Mom. I know you lied. I know about everything, so save it.”

“You have to understand—.”

“I don’t have to understand anything! You don’t get to decide what I think or feel right now. You all chose to lie to me for years!”

“It was what we thought was right,” your mom begged. “We didn’t want to lose you. We—we were all so scared that messing with your memory would make things worse.”

You laughed, your body void of any emotion other than anger. Your words were weapons, and you were ready to aim to kill.

“And what were you planning on doing if I got those memories back?” You questioned. “Were you hoping I’d just carry on with my life without giving a shit? You took two years of my life and kept it a secret! You took everything from me, Mom. You all did.”

There was no mistaking the sound of her crying through the phone. You pulled your cell phone from your ear, letting the muffled sounds linger in static air. Your name floated through the receiver, and you slowly brought it back to your ear. Your mom's words mumbled together.

“…sorry, sweetie. I’m so—I’m so sorry. We should have told you sooner. We shouldn’t have…”

You tore the phone from your ear again and lifted your wine glass to your lips. The rich-bodied taste paired well with your resentment, the tinge of bitterness coating your tongue and poisoning your words.

“There’s a lot you should have done and said, but it’s too late now, isn’t it?” You raged. “You should have told me the truth the moment I woke up. You should have never let Bennett back into my life, and you should have never kept Joel a secret. I understand now why you all acted so weird around Joel in Boston. I understand why everyone was shoving it down my throat to tell him about the accident. You wanted me to be the one that took the fall when everything connected. I’m sure you’re so happy now that you’re free from all the secrets you’ve been hiding.”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” she sobbed. “We all did.”

“Happy?” you repeated. “I’ve been miserable for years. You all knew how Bennett treated me, and you let it happen! You made that decision, and now you have to live with it. You were worried you’d lose me? Well, congrats, Mom, you’ve lost me.”

You ended the call before she could utter another word and returned to your wine glass. Sitting at the dining table, surrounded by unfamiliar ghosts, you drank until the bottle ran empty.

Light-headed and drunk, you staggered through dark hallways to your room. The world spun around you as you collapsed onto the bed, your body on an endless merry-go-round as you tried to shut your eyes. Even with an entire bottle of wine in your system, you still couldn’t sleep. You watched the ceiling fan rotate for hours, your head spinning in the same cadence. Around and around, your thoughts turned until nausea led you to the bathroom.

You laid your head on the edge of the toilet seat, exhausted and defeated. You wanted to cry, but the tears never came. You wanted to scream, but you had no voice. All you had was a handful of anger and nowhere to place it.

It took you three days to finally clean the mess inside your house. Your energy levels ran so low from work and parent-teacher conferences that you would just lay on the couch and stare at the ruined walls. Your fridge was empty, and nothing in your pantry had been touched aside from the aged bottles of wine you kept stored on a dark shelf. You weren’t the type to drink yourself into oblivion, but it had been your only comfort amid the heartbreak. You didn’t sleep much, either, and it began showing. Makeup no longer hid the dark circles sinking in beneath your eyes; you gave up trying to hide it. Your students slowly started to notice the shift in your mood as the week passed; their books were open and ready to read before you could even sit down. It was a nonverbal agreement between them and you; they kept their voices down, and you didn’t lash out. You never wanted to be the teacher who didn’t care about what they learned, but you didn’t even care about yourself right now.

But now it was the last day of conferences, and you had to see the person you hated most—the person who built up and tore down your happiness and trust.

I love you.

You wished you could love the sound of those words. You wished you could hear them again in a different life and believe them. In whatever memories you lost, you knew Joel meant those words, and you knew you probably meant them, too. And the longer you thought about it, the more your heart shattered. It was all a lie.

The clock was nearing six o'clock when you finished your conference with Georgia and her parents. Of course, she got high accolades and praises, and you carried yourself as best as you could the entire time. With tight smiles and agreeing nods of your head, her family finally shuffled out.

You tried your hardest to contain the emotions welling inside your chest. There had been nothing but a static numbness rolling through your veins the last several days, but any moment now, Joel would walk through your classroom door and tear off the bandaid, barely keeping your heart together. You sorted through papers on your desk, trying to busy yourself as you waited while cursing yourself for ever deciding to be a teacher. If you hadn't chosen this school, maybe you could have avoided meeting Joel—back then and now. You might have never met if you had chosen a different career path. If you never met, then—

A familiar voice said your name and roused you from your endless ‘what ifs.’ Your head snapped toward the door and saw Joel standing with Sarah at his side. He didn’t need to say anything else; he saw everything written on your face—the anger, the pain, the exhaustion. He saw right through your hard exterior—he always did. And you hated him all over again.

“Hello, Sarah,” you greeted her with a tight smile. You kept your eyes below Joel’s neck when you greeted him. “Hello, Mr. Miller.”

You didn’t want to spend another second lost in the dark brown of his eyes, wondering about what could have happened if things had been different. You pulled Sarah’s report from your pile of papers and jotted down the list of what to talk about and how quickly you could sum it up. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed something in Joel’s hand, his bruised knuckles squeezing it tight.

Sarah went to one of the desks, readying herself to sit down. You held out a hand to stop her, urging her to remain standing.

You started, “I’ll keep it short and sweet, so I don’t waste any of your time.”

“What happened to your hand?” Joel’s voice radiated around the room, the concerned tone vibrating through your body.

You glanced at your hand and realized it was red and scabbed with cuts from cleaning the house—you hadn’t been particularly careful or safe when you picked up the broken pieces. You dropped your arms to your sides, keeping your features schooled and replacing any emotions with the professionalism you had mastered through the years.

“Like I was saying.” You cleared your throat. “Sarah has done great on the units so far this year. She’s among the highest-scoring students in the class and did exceptionally well on our poetry unit. I do not doubt the rest of the year will be even greater academically for her.”

Sarah stood awkwardly between you and Joel, her teeth chewing into her bottom lip. Joel shifted beside her, his hands drawn behind his back, keeping whatever he held a secret. You looked over your paper again, skimming the words that had been pre-written weeks ago.

“I have no concerns about Sarah or her capabilities in the class, so I think we should end it there,” you said. If this had been any other student, you would have spent more time talking them up and genuinely putting effort into the conference. But you wanted nothing more than to see them both walk out the door and leave.

Joel repeated your name, attempting to capture your attention. It worked, but not to his benefit.

“I am your daughter’s teacher, Mr. Miller,” you snapped. “Please address me correctly.”

You glared at him, finally meeting his eyes. He looked just as awful as you did. The glimmering amber of his eyes had dulled to a dark color you had never seen before, and his patchy beard was far past unkempt, the dark, wiry hairs traveling down his neck. Even his tan skin looked paler than you could recall.

Good, you thought. You wanted Joel to suffer.

“Miss Smith,” he tried again, dragging a hand down his face. “Can we just talk for a minute?”

“Unless you have a question about Sarah or the class material, there isn’t anything else to discuss,” you countered, clenching your jaw.

Joel turned his head toward Sarah, giving her a brief nod. She slid her eyes to you again, their hazel-colored softness filled with concern. Before you could question it, she moved toward the door, leaving you alone with Joel faster than you could register.

“Sarah!” You called, stomping to the door.

She was already running down the hallway, curls bouncing around her head.

Your body muscles tightened and contracted as you stood helplessly in the doorway. Joel’s warmth swarmed around you, even at the healthy distance he maintained.

“Hey,” Joel said from behind you.

You glanced back over your shoulder, watching as Joel brought forward the item he had hidden behind his back. It was a book. You recognized it immediately. Romeo and Juliet.

“Look, I just—.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his biceps flexing under the cotton sleeves of his shirt. “I just wanted to bring this to you. It’s yours. I kept it all these years after the accident. I don’t really know why. I mean, I do know why. It’s stupid, but it’s your book, and you deserve it back.”

“Oh.” You blinked up at him, not knowing how to respond.

“Still got all your notes and scribbles,” he sighed, handing it to you. “Used to lay up at night with it, readin’ what you wrote on the sides of the pages after the accident. Y’know, I already knew it was your favorite when I asked you. I just wanted to hear y’talk ‘bout it one more time. Y’used to talk my ear off ‘bout your favorite books.” He laughed at a memory you didn’t know existed. “Anyway, I won’t keep you any longer. Y’have a good day, Miss Smith.”

He placed the book in your hands, his body brushing your shoulder as he walked out the door. Words lodged in your throat, words you didn’t want to say. The anger you were carrying inside you was becoming unbearable, but in the same breath, you hurt for him just the same.

Joel was long gone when the words finally came out, and you whispered thank you as you held the worn-down book between your hands.

You half-considered throwing away the book when you got home, your hand hovering over the trash bin with the book grasped between your shaking fingers. There wasn’t an ounce of you that wanted to open it and see your writing. Joel had carried this with him for years, holding onto a secret only he could remember. He had read this play probably a thousand times before he had even asked about it on the soccer fields. The facade of ‘doing research’ was a lie; he only wanted to share a moment of the past with you. A moment you couldn’t remember and a moment he only wanted to relive, even for just a few seconds. And you did it. You gave him hope that his plan would work, never knowing the truth.

You hated him. But it wasn’t enough hate to drown out the immense suffering of still falling in love.

Walking to your closet, you found the darkest corner and buried the book deep into the shadows. You’d be ready to flip through the pages one day, but you needed time.

Sitting back on your heels, you stared at the cuts along your hands and felt absolutely nothing. There was no more anger.

There was nothing.

#joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x teacher!f!reader #joel miller #tlou #pre outbreak!joel #tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #i need a better word than angst at this point #angst angst angst

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mediumgayitalian · 5 months

Text

“You ready, Lou?”

“Duh.”

“Cecil? You’ve got full faith in your cabin?”

“Yep.”

“What about you, Will? Were your threats successful?”

“My bribes went wonderfully, thank you.”

“Then I think we’re a go.”

“Gods, this is going to be great.”

———

Knockknockknock.

Nico locks in on his game. He is so, so close to finally making it through this stupid quest, he can feel it, and if he doesn’t beat The Imprisoned before Percy he’s going to set the camp on fire.

Knockknockknock.

“Just — hold on a second!” He spams B, cursing loudly to himself, ignoring the twinge in his lower back from holding this position for so long. “Fuck, fuck, come on.” He clenches his teeth, knuckles white against the Wii remote, until finally — the boss falls. He cheers.

Fuck yes. Take that, Percy.

Tossing the remote on his bed, he jogs over to the door, sliding open the three bolts and unlocking the chains. On his porch is a blur of movement, hair frizzy and pulled-on, shirt rumbled.

“Oh, hey, Annabeth.”

She barely acknowledges him, focusing intently on pacing back and forth on the stone porch at the speed of light. He settles against the door frame, stretching out his spine, watching her mutter to herself.

“Chiron is leaving,” she says.

Nico raises an amused eyebrow. “I am aware.”

“With Mr. D. To some conference.”

“I heard.”

“He’s gone until early tomorrow evening.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He left me in charge.”

“Probably wise.”

“I need an allegiance, Nico.”

“Slow down and tell me what you mean, first.”

She sighs, coming to a stop in front of him. Her fingers still drum across her biceps, and her eyes dart around, evaluating. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip.

“Camp’s a lot of work,” she says finally. “I’ve never been in charge of so many people at once before, and like hell am I gonna let Chiron think I can’t handle it. I have a Plan, and you’re a part of it.”

Nico resists the urge to groan. Chiron leaving is supposed to mean he gets the next day or so off — no classes, no socializing, nothing. Just him in his cabin and the genuinely disgusting amount of junk food he has amassed.

(…And Will. Maybe.)

“It’s nothing crazy,” she promises. “I just need you to lurk.”

“…Lurk?”

“Yeah, you know. Chill in the shadows and scare people into complacency. You don’t even need to do much, just that thing where you stare at people like you know the exact day they’re going to die.”

“I do love lurking,” Nico admits. And to basically have a free pass to scare the shit out of whoever he wants… “I’ll do it.”

She smiles brightly. “Thanks, Nico! I knew I could count on you. I’ll meet up with you right after Chiron heads out, okay? To give you a list of people to keep your eye on.”

“Sure. Bye, Annabeth.”

“See ya!”

He closes the door and pads back to his setup, shaking the remote to get it going again. He can’t quite shake the smirk off his face.

The next twenty four hours are going to rock.

———

“Swiper No Swiping, initiate phase one.”

“Roger that, Sunny Dick.”

“…I’m revoking your code name priveledges.”

“No no no, I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”

———

Before Chiron leaves, he gathers them all in the amphitheatre.

“Children,” he calls, adjusting the bow slung across his back. “I am leaving now for my conference. I will be back before the sun sets tomorrow.” He gestures towards Annabeth, standing stiffly beside him. “Annabeth is in charge. Consider all my authority transferred to her before I return, am I understood?”

“Yes, Chiron,” courses the camp, some with significantly more attitude than others. Across the gathered crowd, Will catches his eye and winks. (Well, tries to. He has yet to catch on to the fact that he cannot, actually, wink, and instead just blinks really intentionally. Kayla and Austin have sworn him to secrecy.) Nico rolls his eyes, ears burning, and looks away.

“Good. Regular rules; no maiming, killing, or injuries above level seven. Any arson will result in a revoking of dessert privileges. Yes, Julia, even if you help in putting out the arson. It is the fire that is the issue, you understand. Excellent.” He claps his hands together. “I am looking forward to one day of peace. Try to avoid ruining it for me too quickly. Goodbye, children.”

With a wave and a fond squeeze of Annabeth’s shoulder, he trots over to Half-Blood Hill, ignoring Mr. D’s loud complaining about how long he took. With a snap of Mr. D’s fingers, they disappear. For a brief, uncanny moment, everything is still.

“Alright,” Annabeth shouts, clapping her hands together. Nico jumps. “Dinner is in an hour. Whoever is the first to fuck something up will be doing dishes. I will be watching. Dismissed.”

Wading through the swathes of ambling teenagers, she walks by where Nico is leaning against a pillar, half-hidden in the shadows.

“Lurk,” she orders, passing him.

Nico shoots her a mocking salute, fading into the shadow behind him. He barely catches her grin before he dissolves into the darkness.

———

“Phase two in effect. Ready to go, Sabrina Spellman?”

“Prepped to go, Teletubbies Sun Baby.”

“I hate both of you.”

———

“Halt!”

Across the common, three suspicious figures freeze, glance behind them, and then resume walking as casually as they can.

“I said halt! Do not move! Cease all function!”

Milling nervously towards each other, Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest pause, shifting the three massive cardboard boxes they hold each.

“Hi, Annabeth,” Will says, smiling innocently. Cecil and Lou Ellen match him, eyes wide, expressions angelic.

Annabeth stomps over to them, fists clenched at her sides, entirely unmoved by the cherubic display in front of her. Nico stays right where he is, hidden by the shade of Cabin Eight.

“Explain yourselves,” Annabeth orders.

The three stooges exchange a look.

“Whatever do you mean,” Lou Ellen asks, shifting the boxes to free up her hand only to place it delicately over her chest. “Why, we are only helping our dear friend William —”

“Our dear, dear friend,” Cecil adds.

“— carry these many boxes of medical supplies, so as to lower his great burden —”

“Massive burden,” Will says sagely.

“— and free up his evening in order for him to spend his limited time with us, his most cherished friends.”

“Especially cherished,” Will and Cecil chorus together.

Unable to bite back a smile, Nico rolls his eyes so hard his skull hurts. They’re not even trying to not get caught, at this point. Idiots.

Clearly agreeing, Annabeth scoffs. “Yeah, right. Boxes down, all three of you. You’re being detained for suspected illicit substances.”

“Annabeth!” Will cries, hand to his chest, “after all I do for this camp, you would accuse me of being — illicit?! Me?! The outrage! The insult! The impugn, the —”

“Can it, Solace. Open the boxes.”

Huffing in perfect unison, the three of them carefully lower their boxes to the ground.

“Tape off.”

Intentionally slowly, they run a nail along the edge of the packing tape.

“Flaps open, guys, c’mon.”

With flourish, the trio fling open the thin cardboard panels. Inside each box is rows of bandages, packaged syringes, sterile bands, tongue compresses, and more that Nico can’t name. Annabeth glares at the boxes with perhaps more disdain than the situation calls for.

Then again.

It is camp.

“See?” says Cecil, gesturing grandly. “The shipment just came in from my dad.”

Like a hound dog locking in on a bleeding squirrel, Annabeth’s eyes narrow. Her lips spread into wide, frankly maniacal smirk.

“Your dad is in a conference with the rest of the Olympians right now, Markowitz.”

Caught.

“Well,” Cecil says, and then nothing else.

“He meant it in the royal sense,” Lou Ellen pipes up in his silence. Cecil nods frantically. “You know, ‘just’ as in, like, recently, as in this morning —”

“Do you three think I’m stupid.”

“It’s just medical supplies! You can look through them if you want —”

Even if they weren’t acting like criminals, Nico knows his friends. He knows his boyfriend, especially, and recognises that damn look on his face. He can also physically see Annabeth’s stress ulcer coming back.

Closing his eyes, Nico fades into Cabin Six’s shadow. It’s a quick jump, so the stretch is easy, and the darkness bows easily to his hold. He reappears silently behind the group, taking advantage of the setting sun, and darts out to grip Lou Ellen’s arm.

“Boo,” he whispers.

She shrieks at the top of her lungs, jumping three clean feet in the air. Coincidently, the boxes of medical supplies flicker, turning into a truly baffling amount of instant mashed potato boxes.

“I knew it!” Annabeth shouts.

On cue, all three doofuses turn to Nico, jeering and complaining about ‘ruining the fun’. Nico’s glare is ineffective on Doofus #1, but the other two can be cowed. He focuses on channelling the flames of hell to reflect in his eyes like his father showed him until they look away, muttering at the ground.

“We still don’t have any illicit substances,” Will insists, glaring right back. Nico sticks out his tongue. He crosses his eyes like a four year old. How immature, honestly. “So we’re just gonna take our stuff and —”

“Absolutely not, Golden Boy. Put that hand away.”

Wisely, Will draws slowly back from the boxes, tucking his hands in his pocket.

Annabeth stares, hard, at the three of them, flicking her dark eyes from the potatoes and back. The tips of her worn-out converse tap slowly on the packed grass, tip-tap-tip-tap, as they all squirm.

Understanding dawns on her quickly.

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, for the strawberry plants.”

They squirm harder.

“Oh, you godsdamn bitches.”

“It would’ve been really funny,” Cecil mumbles, staring at the ground. “Rain making the ground turn into a sea of mashed potatoes. Like Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs.”

“The only meatballs around here are the ones clogging up your skull!” Annabeth shouts, which doesn’t quite make sense but sounds clever coming from her anyway. “Who was gonna clean that up, huh? Magic?”

“I mean, probably,” Lou Ellen says, promptly shutting up at Annabeth’s glare.

“And you, Will! I cannot believe! Where is that responsibility you’re known for, huh?”

Will pouts. “I can be responsible and do fun things.”

“Fun, he says. I’m going to fucking kill you, how’s that for fun. The one day I’m left in charge, I cannot believe —”

“If it helps, it’s less about you and more about April Fools being tomorrow,” Cecil interjects tentatively. “Like, we were going to do this whether or not Chiron left.”

Annabeth glares darkly. “Of fucking course you were. It’s always you three, I swear to the gods. I should have known.”

“It’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you guys,” Nico adds. He smiles smugly at them, relishing in their rolled eyes and mocking hands. “Like, everyone expected this. You did this to yourselves, honestly.”

“Boo, you jag,” Lou Ellen protests. The other two knuckleheads joint in the booing, Will taking it an extra stop forward and blowing a raspberry, both thumbs pointing down. Nico responds with a wide grin and two middle fingers.

“Enough,” Annabeth says, rubbing her temples. “Extra chores, all three of you. Go help the cleaning harpies until sundown. And not another peep of complaint or I’ll have you on chores tomorrow, too.”

Without another glance at them, she turns around and walks away, muttering at least you caught it early at least you caught it early at least you caught it early over and over to herself.

“Pretty sure you guys have physical labour to do,” Nico says brightly when she disappears into the Big House. “I’d get started on that, if I were you.”

“Butthead,” Cecil mutters.

“Kiss-ass,” Lou Ellen agrees, making a face.

“Traitor,” Will whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he walks past.

Nico watches them go, standing guard over the boxes in case they try to come back for them.

He can’t help but think that they all look a little too jovial for having their plans ruined before they even started.

———

“Is he still looking?”

“No.”

“Okay, Phase Three, let’s go let’s go let’s go —”

———

Every time Nico wakes with the sun, he sets aside twenty minutes of his morning routine to curse Apollo, his father, Apollo again, Phanes, and Prometheus. In that order.

He does like the bonus of getting breakfast. Usually he sleeps through it and has to hope Will saved him coffee cake, which he does, every time, because he wants to bribe his way into Nico’s affections. But there is something to be said about camp coffee cake when it is still warm, crumbly on the top and soft on the inside. It is a rare and occasionally worth-it treat, and on his bleary walk to the dining pavilion, Nico tries to keep this in the forefront of his mind. Fresh coffee cake. Fresh coffee. Fresh fruit. And Will, probably, not that seeing him is worth getting up early or anything. (So what that he gets all excited and energetic when he sees Nico up in the morning. If anything it’s embarrassing for him.)

For once, he’s actually early enough that there are very few people already at breakfast. He sees most of the Athena kids, still half-asleep over their mugs, and pretty much every camper under the age of eleven. A few head counsellors, too, watching out for the little ones or catching up on a rare moment of quiet. Nico makes a beeline for the breakfast spread, cutting a slice of coffee cake to leave on the platter and putting the rest of it on his plate. He puts a single strawberry in the middle of it so no one can accuse him of being unhealthy, then ambles over to the Apollo table.

“Neeks? Where’re you going?”

Nico pauses. He shifts his plate to one hand, rubbing at his bleary eyes. He looks at the Apollo table. He counts one, two, three heads — Kayla, Austin, and…Cecil?

“Nico? You good, babes?”

He turns, slowly, to face the voice. Picking at a plate full of pineapple, next to Reika Onason, Lou Ellen's sister, is Will.

“I know mornings are hard for you, but you’re meant to eat at your table,” he teases. “Come sit, doofus. Unless you’re taking advantage of Chiron’s absence to make friends elsewhere, I guess, but it seems unlike you.”

“You’re — what’re you — what?“ Nico says dumbly, struggling to reconcile the imagine in front of him.

For some reason, Will is eating his breakfast at the Hecate table.

And that is not all.

For some reason, his camp shirt does not say head medic. For some reason, he is wearing black jeans. For some reason, dozens of Celestial bronze rings adorn his fingers, carved with sigils. For some reason, his hair is clipped back, and there is black eyeliner around his bright blue eyes, and his nails are painted darker than Nico’s, and he is sitting at the Hecate table.

“What are you doing?”

“Having…breakfast,” Will says slowly. His lips turn down in concern. “Nico, are you okay?”

“I’m fine! It’s — you’re the one acting weird!”

Will and Reika exchange a look.

“Maybe you should go see Cecil,” Will suggests carefully. “Did you sleep okay last night? Maybe you hit your head —”

Nico looks desperately back at the Apollo table. They watch him strangely now, too, and after a second Cecil gets up from his — Will’s — seat, and walks over.

“Everything okay?” he asks, impish expression almost serious. “You look pale, Nico.”

“I’m worried,” Will says. “He’s acting — confused, Cece, maybe there’s a —”

“I’m not confused,” Nico scowls. “You two are — doing something.” He gestures vaguely between them. “As revenge for yesterday.”

Will snorts. “What, the potatoes? Don’t let Lou hear you discredit her like that. If you think she’d plan some revenge prank on you this early, you don’t know her at all.”

Nico’s head starts to hurt. He sets down his plate, rubbing his temples. Why would Lou Ellen be so bothered by that? Why isn’t she here, with her sister? What the hell is going on?

“Both of you — cut it out. Whatever dumbass prank you’re pulling is just stupid.”

“Did I hear something about a prank?” Bounding over from the camp store, arms laden with contraband junk food, is Lou Ellen, smiling brightly. “Whatever it is, I want in!”

“Oh, thank the gods, you’re back.” Will makes grabby hands at the pile. She tosses him a pack of twizzlers off the top, rolling her eyes as he tears into like he didn’t just polish off two and a half entire pineapples and three bowls of oatmeal. “I was going through withdrawal.”

“I’m not helping you when your stomach cramps up,” Cecil promises, snorting. His eyes follow the candy ropes in their harried journey towards Will's gaping maw. “You can sit in your misery.”

“Bleh bleh bleh.”

Nico narrows his eyes at them. Clearly, they’re all in on this — bit, or whatever it is. It’s a little too coordinated to be a quickly-planned revenge prank. They must have had a backup to the potatoes, although a pretty weak one. Unless they somehow managed to bribe the entire camp into agreeing to act along with their dumbassery, and Nico knows none of them can come even close to affording that, then all it takes is one person on Nico’s side before their little ruse is broken.

“It’s too early for this,” Nico says, interrupting their bickering. He picks up his breakfast and trudges off to his actual table, ignoring Will’s pouting. He has to brush the dust off the bench, but it’s worth it to avoid whatever headache the three of them will inevitably give him.

Coffee cake, save him.

———

“It’s not looking good, Katara —”

“I actually like that one.”

“— he’s totally onto us.”

“Just stick to the plan. Power onto Phase Four.”

———

To Nico's great satisfaction, many other people do double takes as they walk into breakfast.

As the Athena table, minus Annabeth, who is likely putting out a literal or metaphorical fire somewhere, wakes up, they start to notice the strange seating situation. It starts with Malcolm, who stares at Cecil in a lab coat with the same expression Nico has seen him wear when attempting to solve the Hodge conjecture. He leans over to murmur something in his brother’s ear, and then all seven of them are looking between the Hecate, Apollo, and mostly-empty Hermes tables with suspicious frowns and furrowed brows.

Nico catches Will’s eye, smirking.

Game’s up, he mouths. Will only shrugs innocently at him.

It’s Annabeth who finally puts a stop to the nonsense, striding in at the tail end of the rest of the slowly-waking crowd. She has grass in her hair and murder in her eyes.

Excellent.

“I swear to the gods, I just dealt with you three,” she snaps, raising her voice so they all can hear her. Coincidentally, it attracts the attention of every other nosy person at camp, which is everybody. “Just ‘cause Chiron’s not here doesn’t mean the rules go out the window. Back to your tables, let’s move.”

“We’re at our tables,” Cecil protests. “Why do people keep saying that?”

Annabeth takes a very deep, very long breath. She has a whole day of this, too. How unfortunate for her.

“Maybe because you are full of shit, Markowitz. Go sit with the rest of you troublemakers.”

Kayla clears her throat. “Annabeth, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Her thin eyebrows are drawn tightly together, lips turned down into a frown. “Cecil is exactly where he’s supposed to be.”

That gives her pause.

That gives a lot of people pause. Nico sets down his coffee cake.

“Cecil’s at the Apollo table,” Annabeth says slowly.

Kayla meets her gaze, face creased in concern. “...Yeah, I know.”

“Cecil is a Hermes kid, Kayla.”

She snorts. “Yeah, sometimes I think so, too. But as much as I would absolutely love to trade my brother —”

“Hey!”

“He’s a healer, Annabeth. He got claimed and everything.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Annabeth says, dragging her hand down her face. “Kayla, I don’t know what they paid you —”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” With a clatter of plates, Will clambers on the table, clapping his hands. “Your attention please, everyone!”

Without so much as a pause, Will claps his hands together. Immediately, a ball of green light expands from them, flashing almost too bright to look at. Nico watches, slack jawed, as he tosses it into the air, making it explode into a thousand little sparkles, descending gently over everyone’s heads. The little kids laugh in delight, reaching for them like they’re bubbles.

“Does that settle things?” he demands.

Silence rings for one, two, three seconds.

The camp erupts.

Dozens of voices overlap, all shouting over each other at once. Hands gesture wildly at Will, at Cecil, at Lou — trying to piece things together. Will is their head medic — isn’t he? Then why is Cecil wearing scrubs? And why is Lou chilling at the Hermes’ table, chatting with Julia over a bowl of cereal? Something isn’t right.

“Just — everybody quiet!”

It takes a minute, but everyone settles down, sitting back in their seats and fidgeting, looking around with half-confused, half-amused smiles. Like they’re laughing at a joke they’re half convinced is real.

“Who thinks this —” Annabeth makes some vaguely indicative movement at Will, Lou, and Cecil — “is weird? Raise your hand.”

Almost all hands go up. Only a handful stay down — Will, Lou Ellen, and Cecil, of course, but the entirety of the Hermes cabin stays oddly silent, as do Kayla, Austin, Reika, and, shockingly, Clovis.

“Stoll,” Nico demands before Annabeth gets the chance, “you’re buying this?”

“Buying what?” Connor says after a moment. He shrugs, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m just chillin’ with my sister, Nico. Cecil is great, but he hasn’t been in our cabin since he got claimed.”

The rest of the Hermes kids nod in agreement. Whispers filter through the tables — first Kayla, now all the Hermes kids?

“If I may,” interjects Clovis, yawning. “There’s an…energy, around.”

“Gods, yeah, I was feeling it too,” Will agrees frantically. “Almost a…blanket, of some kind. Something heavy and stifling.”

Malcolm looks over with interest. “You think we got cursed, or something? The whole camp?”

Will shrugs. “Maybe? Can’t think of any other reason you guys are remembering things weird.”

“It could be a god’s interference,” Nyssa suggests, raising her voice to be heard from the Hephaestus table. “I mean, that’s what happened to Jason and Leo and Piper, right? Their memories got fudged.”

“Yeah, but camp-wide…”

“Could still be possible.”

“There’s no way! They’re fucking with us, come on —”

It doesn’t take long for the arguing to start up again. This time, though, more people looked spooked — more people look to the dumbass trio themselves, eyes wide like they’re looking at ghosts.

Like they’re believing this shit.

Nico scowls, shoving away from his table and stomping over to his boyfriend.

“You are so full of shit I can smell you from across the room,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He wiggles his fingers in Nico’s direction. They spark with the same green light. “Want me to switch your eyes and ears again?”

That sounds horrifying. “Try it and die.”

“Alright, grouchy.” He holds his hands up, stepping back from Nico’s glare. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Alarm bells go off in Nico’s head. This is more than just strange, it’s wrong. And not just ‘cause he looks different — so what if he looks different. Will could shave his head bald and tattoo himself purple, Nico wouldn’t care.

But his aura.

The essence of Will, that Nico has grown so used to be stopped noticing. The quiet, warmth strength, the feeling of a soft breeze in the summer, of walking past a window in the late afternoon, of smokey August campfires and scratchy guitar, is gone. Is different, rather; almost blocked. It feels like a cloud blowing over the sun, making everything warped and off and shadowy.

Something is afoot. Something is wrong, and not just some vague, made-up spell like the Trickster Trio would have the camp believe. Something like smoke and mirrors, something shadier.

He watches Will fall into step next to Cecil, ducking away from his ruffling hand. He frowns.

If there’s one thing Nico can do, it’s wade through the shadows.

———

#can anyone guess what these dumb ass mother fuckers did.#pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo & will solace #solangelo #established solangelo #will solace & cecil markowitz & lou ellen blackstone #annabeth chase #nico di angelo & annabeth chase #my writing #fic #longpost

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stevie-petey · 10 months

Text

episode four: the body

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal. “Hey! Henderson!” “Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you. His unexpected shouting causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you. “Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?”

summary: you basically have a "no babe don't cry over ur dead brother ur so sexy" moment with jonathan, hopper plays mr love doctor (cute date idea: coffin shopping), and somehow nancy wheeler makes you realize that you're a horrible babysitter and an even bigger idiot. meanwhile: steve harrington is frustratingly charming.

rating: general but plenty of cursing as usual.

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 8k

before you swing in: hello ! happy eve of a spending time with loved ones, however ya choose to celebrate or not celebrate and all that jazz. i hope y'all are well and doing okay :) a LOT happens in this chapter, so buckle up. so many feelings and revelations my god. also this chapter is one i really loved writing purely because i got to explore more of steve and reader so ,,, ya welcome ! (hopefully i was able to clear up jonathans thoughts and how he processes, i really want it to come across as someone hurt and overwhelmed rather than just him being cranky lmao). anyways, enjoy !!

It’s a quiet morning.

You roll over, the sunlight streaming through your curtains, and for a moment you forget. It’s a blissful moment, sweet naivety that strokes your cheek and coaxes your eyes open. As you throw your arms over your head and stretch, last night’s events haven’t caught up to you quite yet.

Then you feel Jonathan’s body next to yours and for a moment you’re confused. He never sleeps in your bed whenever he spends the night, being ever the gentleman. No matter how many times you offer, he always insists on respecting your mother’s wishes and sleeping on the giant beanbag chair within your room, and it always makes your heart warm.

Your mother had specifically bought the beanbag for Jonathan when you were thirteen. He had been spending more and more nights at your home, sneaking in through your window to avoid his parents fighting. At first he would simply fall asleep on your carpet, despite your many reassurances that he could sleep in your bed, so when your mom unexpectedly barged into your room one morning and saw him lying face down on the ground, she freaked.

Once you had explained everything to her (with Jonathan’s permission), she had shoved you guys into her car, dropped him off at his house, and then found the beanbag at a garage sale for $10.

“This way, he’ll have a place to sleep that’s soft and cozy, away from my young daughter,” she had said during the drive home. You had covered your face in embarrassment at her implication, but you were also incredibly proud to call her your mom at that moment. She may be overbearing at times, but she was the kindest woman you’ve ever met.

You rub your eyes and glance at the bean bag that sits between your bed and wall, its dusty blue color almost glowing in the early morning light. Then you glance at Jonathan, who has woken up before you, and notice the redness in his eyes and the dark circles now darker than ever.

Then it all comes rushing back to you.

Will’s body in the quarry.

Holding your brother as he mourned his friend.

El, so quiet and shy and sweet, running away after your cruel dismissal.

Jonathan showing up to your window hours later, broken and devastated.

Then, late into the night, the two of you falling asleep, side by side in your bed, both needing each other more than ever before.

The two of you get ready without saying anything. You hand Jonathan some spare clothes of his that you keep in a drawer before giving him some space as you go and take a shower. You spend longer than usual getting ready, but you pay no attention to the clock. There’s no way you’re going to school today. You’re not leaving Jonathan alone for even a second.

Jonathan finishes getting ready before you do and waits in your room. Neither of you have said anything yet, last night being too fresh in your memories, but words aren’t needed between the two of you.

You take his hand and lead him into your kitchen and wordlessly hand him a banana. He stares at you, and you stare back, silently challenging him to decline the food. He needs to eat. You’ve noticed how thin he’s gotten with everything happening.

He sighs, knowing he won’t win this fight, and takes a bite out of the banana in a mocking manner, but you’re just relieved he’s eating.

You grab your own breakfast before writing a note for your mom, informing her that you’ll be with Jonathan today and promising to make up any missed assignments as soon as you can. Then you quietly go into Dustin’s room to check up on him, but his bed is empty. You glance at his alarm clock and note the early hour, he doesn’t normally leave for school for another thirty minutes, which makes you frown.

Where the hell did the kid run off to?

An uneasy feeling settles over you, but you don’t have time to question anything. Knowing Dustin, he ran off to school earlier than usual to see his friends and distract himself from last night. While your mom offered you both to stay home for the rest of the week due to Will’s death, neither of you have ever been good at staying put and dealing with your emotions.

Wherever your brother is, you know he needs his space.

Once everything is settled, you join Jonathan in his car and drive to his place. While he never explicitly asked you to this morning, you know that you’re going to his house with him to help him deal with his mother and the funeral preparations.

He doesn’t have to ask, and you don’t have to tell him that you’ll help.

You both just know.

About halfway to his place, Jonathan finally speaks.

“The cops say that Will crashed his bike and fell into the quarry,”

“Jonathan, we don’t have to talk about it right now-”

“My mom doesn’t believe that he’s dead. She-she insists that he’s in the walls, that he can speak through-through… Christmas lights.”

His voice shakes as he speaks, and you can’t tell if it’s due to grief or anger.

“Will is dead and my mom chooses to believe that there’s some monster in our walls that took him.”

“A monster?” you think about El and her powers and the fear on the boys’ faces when she pulled out the Demogorgon piece. Then you remember the other night at the Byers’ home when Joyce came running outside as the lights were flickering wildly. Her fear had been genuine.

“A fucking monster that’s hiding in our walls. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t listen, Y/N. I tried talking to her, to calm her down, but she just…” His words fade off, and he clenches his jaw as tightens his hands around the steering wheel.

You’re not sure what to say. It’s a tough situation, a fucking heartbreaking one, and it’s all so unfair. Jonathan needs his mom, but his mom needs Will.

You rest your hand behind his head and allow your fingers to rub circles against his skin. He leans into your touch, and for now this is all you can do.

The state of the Byers’ home has only gotten worse since the last time you were there. There’s now letters painted on the wall and string lights placed all throughout the house. There’s also clothes in random corners and trash thrown around.

Jonathan had been staying in this house alone, watching his mother spiral. Your stomach twists with guilt.

You should’ve been there more for him, but instead you allowed your petty need to help everyone distract you from what’s important.

Joyce is passed out on the couch with an ax clutched between her hands, which breaks your heart even more. Jonathan walks over to wake her up and you give the two of them some privacy as you head into the kitchen to make Joyce some breakfast.

Their fridge is barren, but you aren’t surprised. You make do with the few eggs you find and get to work; it isn’t much, but it’ll have to do. As you prepare breakfast, you notice a stack of Will’s drawings on the kitchen table, which causes you to gag with remorse.

There’s still so much of Will within these walls, his entire childhood still locked inside, untouched, and yet the house lacks his presence.

He’s gone.

–

You wait with Hopper in the morgue waiting room, nervously tapping your foot and frantically trying to distract yourself with a comic. The words blur together in your head and the images float around. You can’t focus on anything. For once, Spidey’s quips and banter can’t distract you from reality.

Not only are you incredibly worried for Joyce and Jonathan, but the thought of Will’s body being a wall away from you sends chills down your spine. You can’t imagine what’s happening behind the doors, and you’re secretly relieved that you’ll never know.

“What’s taking so long?” Hopper’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

You put your comic down and listen, figuring that it’s best if you’re caught up on everything so that you can store away any useful information for later.

The front desk lady sighs. “Well, everything’s been a bit chaotic around here without Gary.”

This catches Hopper’s attention. “Without Gary?”

“I thought you knew. Those men from State, they… they sent Gary home last night.”

Now this catches your attention. Why would the State replace the town’s coroner?

“So who did the autopsy?”

“Someone from State.”

Hopper looks at you, almost as if to ask if you’re also hearing this, and you give him a slight nod. It’s odd, really damn odd.

“Why would they send someone for a little boy?” You ask Hopper, but he only shakes his head in response.

In the back of your mind, you think about what El had warned you of. The bad men, the people she has to hide from… it didn’t make sense at the time, but now…

Your thoughts are cut off as Jonathan runs out the door, his hand over his mouth, and you immediately get up to help him outside. He throws up against the wall outside, and you wince at the smell. You’ve never been good with people getting sick, but Jonathan needs you right now, so you rub soothing circles on his back as he throws up. Once he’s done, you head back inside and wait for Joyce.

You offer Jonathan a tissue before coaxing him to rest his head on your shoulder. Having nothing else to do, yet urgently wanting to help, you begin to read him some panels from your comic. He doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a sign to keep going. Your voice is hoarse from all your crying, but you read aloud anyways.

Hopper watches your interaction with a small interest. You don’t notice his curious eyes and the way they seem to glint with sincerity. In his eyes, the two of you will get together soon enough.

After a couple minutes, Hopper finally asks Jonathan how Joyce is holding up. The boy straightens up, but grabs your hand to steady himself, and responds as best as he can. He explains the lights, the letters on the wall, everything.

“She’s had anxiety problems in the past, but this…? I don’t know.” He takes a shaky breath, and you draw reassuring patterns on the back of his hand. “I’m worried it could be… god, I don’t know.”

“She’s grieving,” you remind him, and he nods.

“Yeah, she’s grieving, but she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay; my mom, she’s tough.”

“Like Spider-Man,” you say, though you don’t really mean to. You’re tired and the words just slip out, but Jonathan begins to laugh.

“Yeah, like Spider-Man, you’re right. Thanks, bug.”

“Anytime, bee.”

Jonathan smiles at you, still softly laughing, and it’s then that you realize. He hasn’t laughed in days, he’s hardly even smiled, and yet here he is, smiling at the stupid nickname you gave him and laughing at the stupid joke you didn’t even mean to say; you realize you’d do anything to get him to laugh again, to give you that smile that he’s only ever reserved for you. He squeezes your hand and his eyes shine for a moment with a familiar warmness that has always made you weak.

It hits you like a cold, cruel wave on a harsh winter day.

You’re in love with Jonathan.

Fuck.

It’s horrible timing, and you feel sick with guilt for realizing that you love your best friend merely hours after his brother has died, but now it’s all you can think about.

You love him, you love him more than you’ve ever loved anything before, but you can’t tell him. It wouldn’t be fair, and you don’t have the time.

You’re thankful when Hopper begins to talk again, reiterating that Joyce is tough, so that you have the time to process your newfound feelings.

Then Joyce comes crashing through the door, screaming about how whatever is in the other room isn’t Will, ignoring everyone who tells her to calm down. Both you and Jonathan stand up to calm her down, your comic dropping to the ground in the process, but she doesn’t listen and instead runs outside.

“Mom!” Jonathan follows after her.

You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears before picking up the comic. You know that Jonathan needs to be alone with Joyce right now, give them some privacy, it’s a personal matter. More personal than anything else, and yet you also selfishly don’t want to be near him for a few moments so you can collect yourself as well.

As you’re gathering your things, Hopper clears his throat.

“Do you love him?”

You freeze, having not expected such a personal question. You’ve only just realized your feelings for him, how the hell has Hopper already figured it out? “What does it matter? His brother is dead and his mom is losing it.”

Hopper rubs his hand over his face, giving you a warning look. “But do you love the kid?”

It’s the way he says it, like it means life or death, that has you respond, “I do.”

“Take care of him, then.” He looks you in the eyes as he says it, urging you to understand the weight of his words, and you do.

You’ve heard about how his daughter had died and his wife divorced him soon after. They’d only ever been rumors to you, but now you know that they’re true. He’s telling you to take care of Jonathan, that your love for him means that you have to take care of him in a way that no one else can.

In a way, you suppose that you and Hopper aren’t so different after all, and you gain a new sense of respect for the man.

You swallow deeply and nod at him before excusing yourself to follow after Jonathan and Joyce.

–

The mother and son in question are a few blocks down the street, Joyce waving her son away as he follows her with the car.

You sigh.

This day definitely sucks.

Running up to them is a pain in the ass, honestly. You get that you gave them some privacy, but damn. Did Jonathan seriously have to take the car as well?

When you finally catch up, he’s parking. “Hey, what are you-”

He doesn’t spare you a glance as he turns the engine off and runs after his mom.

“Seriously?” You groan, clutching at a stitch in your side from running. Usually you’re a great runner, actually choosing to go for a run whenever you’re particularly stressed out or anxious. However with the shitshow that this week has been, you haven’t gone on your morning run in a while and you’re starting to feel the effects of being out of practice.

Joyce, being surprisingly fast, is hard to catch up with, but you do your best as Jonathan sprints ahead of you. When he finally reaches her, he grabs at her jacket with a determined look in his eyes.

You hang back, now regretting the fact that you left the coroner’s office in the first place.

“Mom, stop!”

“Just go home, Jonathan.”

“No, this is not an okay time for you to shut down.”

“Shut down… what-” The confusion in Joyce’s eyes is enough to make you feel Jonathan’s frustration as well. You feel for the woman, you really do, but she has another son to worry about. Jonathan is still here, he’s lost his own baby brother, he needs his mom now more than ever.

But Joyce, too lost in her own grief and desperation, can’t see that.

“We have to deal with this, mom. We have to deal with the funeral!” You’ve never heard Jonathan raise his voice at his mom before, but after days of begging for her attention, you’re proud of him for defending himself.

The word “funeral” seems to snap Joyce out of her daze and once again she goes on her tangent about how Will’s body isn’t really back at the morgue, that he’s still alive, and Jonathan’s anger in his voice makes you ache.

As he and his mom continue to yell at one another, a few nosy people in the town area stand and watch. They whisper to each other, no doubt about how Will’s death has made Joyce Byers crazy, and you kick a few rocks at them.

“Fuck off! At least pretend that you aren’t a bunch of nosy assholes like most decent people do.” A woman sneers at you, but you wave your arms above your head, “Oh! Scary! Get fucked!”

Eventually they do as they’re told and walk away from the screaming mother and son, which pleases you.

You really hope that random lady wasn’t a patron of Bookstrordinary though.

“Yeah, well, while you’re talking to the lights, Y/N and I will be planning a funeral for Will!” Jonathan’s voice is laced with bitterness as he screams at his mother, breaking your heart even more. “I’m not letting him sit in that freezer another day!”

Joyce storms off, but you notice that her shoulders shake with tears as she leaves.

It’s such a devastating situation, and while you’re also frustrated with the way she’s been treating Jonathan, you also know that maybe her craziness isn’t exactly “crazy”. El is still out there, even if you’re not sure where, and you think about how she was able to control the comic book and the game pieces. The static electricity you felt in the air when she used her powers, the same static you felt at the Byers’ home a few nights ago when Joyce came running outside with the lights flashing and Will’s song playing on the radio.

But then you think about how El promised that Will was alive.

He isn’t; you see his dead body every time you close your eyes.

So really, what is there to believe?

Lost in thought, you don’t notice Jonathan walking towards you until he grasps at your arm and flings you along back to the car with him. He’s breathing heavily and you notice that he’s shaking. He’s in no condition to drive.

As you near the car you quickly reach around and grab his keys from his pocket before running over to the driver’s side and throwing yourself into the seat. Jonathan hates when you drive the car, not because you’re a bad driver, but because some part of him truly believes it’s impolite to make a girl drive.

As cute as you think his chivalry is, today you couldn’t give more of a damn.

Jonathan stands outside your door. “Y/N-”

“Nope, no time to argue, Byers. Get in.”

“But-”

“In.”

He does as he’s told, albeit with some attitude, but eventually the two of you are off. Without having to ask, you drive to the local funeral home. While you and Jonathan are similar in many ways, the one thing that pulls you together is planning. You both cling onto the stability that planning provides, and right now Jonathan is clinging onto his responsibilities for Will’s funeral.

Like he told his mom earlier, you and him have a funeral to plan.

The funeral home is closer to the edge of Hawkins, so the drive is a longer one. Along the way Jonathan slowly begins to calm down, untensing his shoulders and releasing his clenched jaw. You let him take all the time he needs, thankful that for now you have some time to yourself to reflect over today’s revelation.

You love Jonathan.

Those three words are heavy within your chest, and you almost don’t want to think about them, but you know that sooner or later you’ll have to. You glance at Jonathan, the late fall sun casts a warm glow on his face that for a brief moment brings back the boy you knew only a week ago, before everything changed. Then he turns to face you and you see the red in his eyes, his cheeks sunken in, and you know that you don’t have the time to unravel whatever you feel for him.

He needs his best friend right now.

Jonathan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, his voice cracking a bit from disuse. “Can we talk about yesterday?”

You cast him a quick glance. “Yesterday?”

“Our… our fight, I guess.”

“Oh,” you shift your hands on the steering wheel, now suddenly painfully aware of the silence within the car. “We don’t have to right now, bee. We should be focusing on the funeral arrangements.”

Your voice catches on the word “funeral”, it still hasn’t sunk in yet that Will is really gone.

“Bug, for the past eighteen hours all I’ve been thinking about is Will,” he takes a shaky breath and you gently place a hand on his, encouraging him to keep talking, “but when I’m not thinking about him… I’m thinking about you and what-what you said yesterday.”

“I said a lot yesterday-”

Jonathan gives you a pleading look. “Please just let me get this out, okay?”

You purse your lips but remain silent.

“I will never, ever deserve you. This week and my actions have proven that. This isn’t some pathetic attempt to make you pity me, I was an asshole to you and I recognize that. You love people in a way that terrifies me, Y/N. You’re my best friend and I think I would actually die if I ever lost you.”

A snort escapes your lips, “you probably would.”

“I definitely would, but this isn’t about me. I’m so, so sorry for how I’ve been treating you lately and the fact that you’re driving me to a funeral home after watching my mom have a meltdown in the town square without even batting an eye is all the more proof that you’re too good for me.”

“I wouldn’t say too good, but yeah. Close enough.”

“It’s more than enough, bug. That’s what terrifies me: I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to repay you for all that you’ve done for me, even before Will disappeared; you’ve been taking care of me since we were twelve.”

His words hang in the air as you allow them to wash over you. There’s so much you want to disagree with, namely the fact that he doesn't deserve you, but you know that he wouldn’t want to hear your arguments.

Again you think about how similar the two of you are, and while you both give your all to the people that you love, your love comes freely while Jonathan has grown up believing that it comes with conditions. It’s never been a problem in your relationship until now, but you guess with how much you’ve been overcompensating for everything, the need to return it all has caught up with him.

Finally, you speak. “You feel that you can’t accept my help because I’ve already done enough for you. Is that it?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan takes a deep breath. “I know it’s stupid, especially because I’m asking for your help right now with the funeral preparations, but…”

“I understand, but we’ll get through it,” you pull into the funeral home parking lot and turn the car off. “We always do, right?”

“Right,” Jonathan’s smile is a weak one, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Now, you ready to go look at children’s coffins like real men and women do?”

He laughs at your poor attempt at a joke, but even he can admit that objectively the entire situation is morbid. “Only real best friends go coffin shopping together.”

“My thoughts exactly, good sir.” Then, before you forget, you reach over and whack Jonathan’s head with the back of your hand.

“Ow! What was that for?”

You shrug your shoulders, “ask Nancy.”

And with that, you unbuckle your seatbelt and head into the funeral home, trusting that Jonathan will follow eventually enough. Things aren’t exactly the same between the two of you, especially with your newfound feelings for him, but it’s a start.

“I deserved that,” you hear Jonathan grumble, which makes you smile.

You’ll take whatever you can get.

–

You spot Nancy before Jonathan does.

It wasn’t intentional, really, but the funeral home director was droning on and on about the different wood selections for coffins and finishes that you can customize and it all makes you want to throw up; the coffins before you are so small, you weren't really paying attention in the first place.

She stands in the doorway and motions for you to get Jonathan’s attention, who is deeply focused on everything the old man is saying. A part of you wants to ignore the girl, but the scared look on her face tells you that this is something serious.

You nudge your shoulder against Jonathan’s and point at Nancy; he excuses the two of you as you walk towards her.

Jonathan shoves his hands in his pockets, a bit guarded. “Hey,”

“Hey, your mom, um… said you’d be here.”

“You talked to Mrs. Byers?” You ask, feeling a sudden possessiveness over the woman. Sure, you were kind of okay sharing Jonathan with Nancy so long as she was with Harrington, but Joyce? She’s like a second mother to you.

It made you uneasy that Joyce even talked to her in the first place.

Nancy tilts her head at you. “Yeah, it was only for a brief moment though. She seemed pretty… distracted.”

“No shit. Her son died, Nancy.”

The girl flinches a bit at your tone, which causes Jonathan to yank at your sleeve and shove you behind him. “Ignore her, we’ve had… Well, it’s been a long day.”

You feel your shoulders drop and unclench your fists. “Sorry, is everything okay? Is it the boys?”

“No, they’re fine, I just,” Nancy’s eyes shoot towards you, uncertain, before directing them towards Jonathan. “Can we talk for a second?”

The photos Nancy shows you makes your blood run cold. They start with Barb sitting alone by the pool, but slowly she pulls out more and more pieces of the torn picture to create a terrifying image with a shadow-like figure looming over her friend.

Jonathan tries to sum the shadow up to lens distortion, but you know that he’s wrong. Nancy asks more questions, trying to figure out exactly what has happened to Barb, but all you can think about is El.

You check the time on your watch and curse. It’s late afternoon now, you’ve been gone with Jonathan since early this morning. Dustin hadn’t been in his room when you left and you stupidly assumed that he’d gone off to school. Now, seeing the picture of Barb and that thing… Something is so goddamn wrong.

“The cops think that she ran away,” Nancy says.

“Just like they did with Will,” you’re whispering more to yourself than to them, but Jonathan hears you anyway.

“Maybe she did run away-”

Nancy shakes her head. “No, she wouldn’t do that. They don’t know Barb. When I went back to Steve’s… I thought I saw something.”

Your head shoots up. “Nancy, what did you see?”

“Some weird man,” the urgence in your voice confuses the girl, but you silently push her to keep talking, “or… I don’t know what it was.”

Both you and Jonathan are quiet afterwards for very different reasons.

He’s quiet because he probably thinks Nancy is crazy, just like his mom.

You’re quiet because you’re currently afraid you’ve accidentally left your idiotic brother and his friends and El alone with very real monsters and possible bad men. The figure Nancy saw… El being terrified of bad people finding and hurting her…

Well shit.

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have come here today-”

You stop Nancy from leaving. “No, you should stay… I think,” you look at Jonathan, nervous for how he may react to what you’re about to say. “I think I might have an idea of what you saw last night. A lot has happened since Will disappeared, things that I’m still trying to understand, but I think I know where to start finding an explanation.”

Jonathan turns to you. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Technically I did try telling you a few nights ago but then you yelled at me and threw a jacket at my face-”

“You threw a jacket at Y/N?” Nancy asks, which you and Jonathan ignore.

“But for now I can’t tell you anything else. I made a promise, and I’m not sure I’m right or even sane for considering it an explanation, but we need to leave. Now.”

“A promise? To who?” There’s an edge of hurt in Jonathan’s voice and you desperately wish you could explain more to him, but now isn’t the time. Not with Nancy sitting between you two and her own brother involved. You don’t want to cause any unnecessary worry for her; right now she needs to focus on Barb. You’ll wrangle in the boys, it’s your fault they’re even alone right now with El.

“I can’t exactly say who, but just trust me, okay? Again: I really hope I’m just insane and worried about nothing and that this will all be an embarrassing laugh for us later.”

“Y/N-”

“Jonathan, we need to go.”

“‘We’?” Nancy now speaks up, seemingly fed up by your vague exchange with Jonathan.

You try to collect yourself and pretend like you have some amazing plan. “Yes, we. Jonathan will take you to the photo developing room at school and see if you can make the pictures clearer. On the way there, he’ll drop me off at home so I can grab my bike and head out.”

“And what will you be doing?” The boy asks.

“Tracking down my brother, unfortunately.”

He gives you a doubtful look. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to just let you run off on your own without more of an explanation.”

You know he’s right, but you just… you can’t tell him about El and the bad men yet. You can’t. Not until you know for sure what the hell is happening.

“I’m sure it’s nothing… but just in case, I really need to find Dustin, okay?”

I’m a really, really bad babysitter, you think.

Jonathan opens his mouth again as if to argue, but you hold your hand up to silence him. You really don’t want to waste time fighting with him. He has to trust you on this, whether he likes it or not.

He sighs with defeat, “Just be safe, please.”

You also really don’t want to put anyone else in danger. It’s bad enough that you allowed the boys to get dragged into this mess, but you refuse to drag your best friend in as well. But really, who knows? Maybe you’re just a regular idiot who believes in fairy tales and monsters, not some idiot who leaves three overly naive boys alone with a girl with superpowers.

God you hope you’re just a regular idiot.

However, if Joyce believes that Will is alive, even without the knowledge of El and her powers, then you’re sure that the boys also believe he’s alive and will inevitably go looking for him again. Alone. In the same woods Nancy saw that strange figure.

You cast those thoughts out of your head and give Jonathan what you hope is a reassuring smile. “When am I not safe?”

You really, truly hope that you’re just an idiot, but if the photos that you just saw scare you. Before he can change his mind, you quickly reach over and snatch Jonathan’s keys from his jacket and give him a peck on the cheek before running out to his car.

“I call shotgun, Nancy!”

–

Unsurprisingly, the drive with Nancy and Jonathan is an awkward one. Things are still a bit tense between you and him for reasons you’re not sure you can tell him about just yet, and now Nancy is in the backseat trying not to make any sound, so really it was a doomed car ride from the start.

It’s not that you don’t like the girl, but there’s something about the way she acts around Jonathan that honestly makes you want to collapse. You know she’s with Harrington, but the tenderness Jonathan has shown her the few times they’ve interacted makes you uneasy.

Yesterday you chalked the uneasiness to simply never sharing Jonathan before, but now you know the truth.

You’re jealous because you’re in love with him.

It’s a nauseating feeling.

“So, how long have the two of you been friends?” Nancy’s question surprises you, mostly because she should already know the answer. You know she’s just trying to make conversation, but the question itself further reminds you of why the two of you had drifted apart in the first place.

“I moved here when I was twelve, remember? Your family helped us move in.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” You see Nancy nervously playing with her fingers in the rearview mirror, which makes you feel bad. She’s trying, you know she is.

“It’s fine,” you try to catch her eye, and when you do you give her a smile. “I know you probably don’t remember much from that day. It was the middle of the school year and our brothers immediately started being annoying together, so you had gone inside after only a couple minutes.”

Nancy laughs, now remembering that day. “Didn’t Mike hold an initiation for Dustin that night?”

“Yeah,” you laugh with her now. “That’s actually how Jonathan and I met. Remember, bee?”

Jonathan’s smile is a soft one, a smile that makes you feel weak because you know you’re the reason it’s there. “Of course I do. We both showed up at the Wheeler’s house at the same time to pick up our brothers.”

“And then-”

“I answered the door.” Nancy finishes for you.

“Yup. Ever since then, Jonathan hasn’t been able to get rid of me.”

“It’s been horrible,” he says with a monotone voice, but it’s clear to everyone that he’s joking.

You punch his shoulder. “You weren’t complaining when I saved you from those bullies later that week.”

Jonathan gives you a pointed look and tries to subtly motion towards Nancy, clearly embarrassed that you've brought the bullies up in front of her. Like he wants her to think he’s someone cooler than he really is.

Your smile vanishes.

He wants to impress her.

“Right, sorry,” you clear your throat and if Nancy notices your sudden mood change, she doesn’t say anything. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and remind yourself that what matters right now are the boys and El. They should be your priority, not petty boy drama.

Luckily Jonathan pulls into your driveway not long after the abrupt conversation ending, which you’re thankful for.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face Nancy, and it takes everything in you to force a smile on your face. “Alright, well, this is my stop! Nancy, I’m trusting you to tell me whatever you and Jonathan find. I’d ask him to keep me updated, but I know he’ll inevitably forget.”

The girl nods at you. “You can trust me.”

Can I?

Although you’re not exactly sure what it is that you don’t think you can trust her with. Then, your eyes drift to Jonathan and the way he’s staring at her from his own mirror, and you realize that maybe she’s not the one you should be worried about.

“Good,” you turn to Jonathan now. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“And I’ll answer… probably.”

“You’re so sweet to me.”

“I know, right?”

You snort at the boy and wave goodbye to him and Nancy before getting out of the car. Your bike is in the shed, so you motion to Jonathan that he’s good to leave. When he’s sure you’re okay, he waves at you one last time and drives away.

It feels like you’ve made a huge mistake as you watch Jonathan and Nancy leave, but you don’t have time to think about why. Dustin’s bike isn’t in the shed alongside yours, which you expected, and you have to find him.

Your brother and his idiotic friends need you right now.

–

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal.

“Henderson!”

“Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you.

His unexpected shouting from the other side of the road causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you.

“Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?”

You glare at the boy. “You are a man, I am a woman. It’s getting dark outside. What exactly made you think it’s a good idea to yell out at me?”

“Well, I mean, I called after you.” He says, so matter of factly that it makes you want to strangle him.

You hate him. You really do.

A strand of hair has fallen in your face, so you blow it away before bothering to answer. “My apologies, you called after me and almost killed me in the process.”

Steve winks at you. “Apology accepted.”

You stare at him, unamused and still in the middle of the damn road, and after a couple beats of silence you cock your head at the boy. “Are you going to tell me what you need or…?”

“Oh,” Steve coughs, as if startled by your question. “Honestly I didn’t really have a plan when I called after you. I just kinda did, so…”

“Right, well.” You clench your jaw in annoyance. Why are you even surprised that Harrington has wasted your time? “This was fun, let’s never do it again sometime!”

You ride off on your bike, trying to quickly get up the hill so that you can get to the Wheeler’s before it gets too dark to see. The hill is brutal and it’s almost embarrassing how long it’s taking you to get up it, and as you’re huffing and dripping in sweat, headlights come up from behind you.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groan.

Steve’s car is now right next to you, the fucker having done a complete u-turn to follow after you. His window is still rolled down and he has one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out his window.

“Hello again, Henderson.”

“I never said hello back to you.”

“C’mon, at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

You let out another groan as you continue to struggle up the hill. “I physically cannot do that, sorry.”

Steve, ever the comedian, responds, “It doesn’t seem like you can physically get up this hill either.”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of laughing, but you’re a bit annoyed that his quip was funny. What a jackass, honestly.

“Henderson,” your silence doesn’t deter the boy, “just get in the damn car already.”

Once again you almost crash into the BMW, this time because of your complete shock at his request.

“What?”

He gives you a look as if you’re the insane one in this situation. “You’re sweatier than I am after basketball, and at the rate you’re going I’d say you’ll reach your destination in about three to five business days.”

You stare at him, speechless.

He stares back at you with a smirk on his smug little face, knowing that he’s won the argument. “Get in the car and I’ll throw your bike in the back.”

You do as he says, your mind completely blank and still taken aback. Sweatier than him after basketball? There’s no way that’s true, and also who says that to someone they barely even know? As if you’re really that sweaty-

You see your reflection in his car mirror and wince.

Okay, so maybe you’re a little sweaty.

Fuck Steve Harrington.

The boy in question tosses your bike in the trunk as you hesitantly get in the car. He watches as you sit yourself down and laughs. “It’s a car, Henderson. It won’t bite.”

“Yeah, but you might.” You slap a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the implications of your words.

Steve raises an eyebrow at you as he turns the car back on. “Careful there, last I checked you’re a taken lady.”

The embarrassment you previously felt is gone, now replaced with your usual annoyance when it comes to Steve. You think about what he did yesterday to Jonathan’s camera, the cruelty in his eyes as he watched the thing shatter onto the ground. He didn’t show any remorse, and while you understand that he had been defending his girlfriend, he had taken it too far.

“How many times do I have to tell you that Jonathan and I are just friends?”

“Please,” Steve huffs with amusement, “the two of you have been inseparable for years. Besides, no way a guy like Byers can just be friends with a girl like you. Not scientifically possible.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What’s ‘a girl like you’ supposed to mean?” Then another thought occurs to you, “Also, you didn’t even know my name until this week, so don’t go acting like you know my relationship with Jonathan.”

“Relax, Henderson. It was a compliment. All I meant is that you’re decently pretty, all things considered, so I wouldn’t blame Byers if he was in love with you. It’s human nature.”

“Okay, that’s just really sexist-”

“As for knowing your name only this week, you’re wrong.”

“I’m sorry?” You ask, confused.

Steve places a hand over his chest, almost as if he’s reaching for his heart. “Apology accepted, it means a lot to me.”

“Ugh,” you scoff at him. “That wasn’t an apology and you know it. Can you just take me to the Wheeler’s, please?”

“Woah, slow down there. First I need you to tell me why you thought I didn’t know your name, then I’ll take you to my girlfriend’s house. Free of charge.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you see some offense in Steve’s eyes for thinking he only recently learned your name, but why would he care? Besides, you know he’s never paid any attention to you before this week.

“It was literally this week that I had to tell you my name after you almost hit me with your car, Harrington.”

“Okay, hey,” the boy holds a finger up. “Actually, you almost hit me with your bike because you were too busy hysterically sobbing.”

He’s right, but you won’t tell him that. Minor details, honestly. You’re about to tell him as much before you realize what he’s said. “Wait, you knew I had been crying?”

Steve gives you a well, duh look. “Yeah, that’s why I pretended not to know your name. Figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it and the least I could do was make you laugh. And viola, I did.”

He had willingly tried to make you laugh?

His words make you flush, which seems to only amuse him further as he chuckles at you. You wave your hand at him, now more annoyed than ever. “Okay, fine. Whatever, so you knew my name before this week, big whoop. Can you just drive now?”

“I’ll take that as an ‘I’m sorry Steve for assuming you’re an asshole who hadn’t noticed a girl you’ve known since you were thirteen’, then.” Steve takes the car out of park and begins to drive to the Wheeler’s which you’re relieved by.

You feel uncomfortably warm after that conversation, regardless of the fact that you’re still overheated from your biking. There’s no way that Steve has seriously known about you since you were twelve and he was thirteen. No, you decide that he must be lying, playing up his usual boyish charm. He’s been this untouchable entity ever since you moved to Hawkins, so why would he have paid any attention to you?

Then your mind floats to his compliment, calling you “decently pretty”, but then again not even five minutes earlier he stated that you sweat more than he does after basketball, so really his words should mean nothing.

And yet, after the week you’ve had and your fight with Jonathan and Will’s death and El’s mysterious powers…

Steve’s words make you a bit giddy, embarrassingly enough. You hate that they do, because he’s Steve Harrington and he’s with Nancy who is beautiful and kind and everything you’re not. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you.

You pick at your nails as he drives, the car silent, and you accidentally graze against the cut on your finger from yesterday. It’s scabbed over by now, but the pain is still fresh.

“I know that what Jonathan did was wrong, I won’t excuse his actions. Standing up for Nancy was the right thing to do and I admire you for it, really,” Steve spares you a glance as he drives, nodding his head slightly to indicate that he’s listening. “But breaking Jonathan’s camera wasn’t.”

He groans. “Nancy said the same thing, but what’s the big deal? The creep shouldn’t have access to a camera if he can’t use it properly.”

The slight warmth that Steve had somehow put in your chest dissipates at his words. “Jonathan isn’t a creep, but regardless of the situation, the big deal is this: not everyone can afford a fancy BMW and Raybans. Not everyone in Hawkins lives in a giant mansion with a pool. He worked so hard to afford that camera, it’s not something that he can just buy again on a whim.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Henderson, you know I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I know, but it was still a shitty thing to do.”

The silence that settles in the car is a heavy one, and you almost feel bad for Steve. You know he hadn’t thought about the repercussions of his actions, but you suppose that the fact that he hadn’t considered the price of a camera was proof enough of his naivety.

When you get to the Wheeler’s, Steve gets out of the car to help you with your bike. He doesn’t let you do a thing, so you stand there and awkwardly watch. You can tell that he’s trying to make up for his actions from yesterday, which you appreciate.

“Thank you,” you say once he places the bike down.

“All in a day’s work.” Steve responds, wiping his hands off on his jeans.

As he turns to leave, you stop him. “And thank you for earlier this week, ya know, for making me laugh after falling off my bike. I, uh, appreciate it.”

He seems surprised by your sincerity, but he smiles. “Again: all in a day’s work. And listen, I’m sorry about Byers’ camera,” Then he quickly adds, as if afraid he won’t have the nerve to later, “I’m sorry about Will, too. I figure you were close with him and now he’s…”

His words trail off, not wanting to say the word “dead”, which you can’t blame him for.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person.” Steve turns to face you now, your words catching his undivided attention. “You just have the worst taste in friends, but when you aren’t around them… I guess you’re alright.”

He laughs a bit, but there’s a certain emotion in his eyes that you can’t quite name; you have to stop yourself from leaning in closer to him. Suddenly the space between you feels too close and you take a step back, but as you move you feel Steve’s hand ruffle your hair. “I guess you’re ‘alright’ too, Henderson.”

You watch as he leaves, standing in the Wheeler’s driveway for longer than necessary. You place your hand on your head and find yourself smiling, the warmth of his touch still faintly there.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added or removed from my taglist please just let me know :)

⌑ taglist - @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #hey what happens in this chapter ? everything #the answer is everything

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peachyfnaf · 25 days

Text

sun and moon show tumblr dashboard simulator. because i find these hilarious and this fandom needs one. assume this takes place in a "bad shit happens, but everyone's still on speaking terms" au for it to make the most sense kfjhsfd

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🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

when the nightmare goes so hard when you wake up you have to walk into the ocean just to make sure

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

Lunar, are you okay..?

🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

guess

22 notes

👤 sunsthirdfingerjoint Follow

ok but the creator is kind of a dilf tho

🦙 TSAJSwillprevail Follow

he's killed hundreds

👤sunsthirdfingerjoint Follow

is a man not allowed to be a manic pixie dream girl in this day and age

🛸 moonenjoyer9315 Follow

guys are we just ignoring op's url

536 notes

☣️ mellorinefuega Follow

coming across montgomery gator in the wild is crazy. like i was just trying to make a deposit at the bank one time and he came up behind me and punched the teller in the face

🐩 hottodoggors Follow

op my girlfriend went thru a similar experience a few months ago. this dude sounds like a menace, fr. so happy hes not near me.

🐊 trustmewithyourinformation Follow

182.62.250.90

🐩 hottodoggors Follow

is that my fukcign ip address

1,102 notes

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

This is a gentle reminder that everything will be okay, you just have to give it time!!!

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

im seriously at my limit

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

Just give it time, everyone!!!

🔧 applejackenjoyer Follow

earth are you okay

🌎 princessandthepaupersupreme Follow

guess

🌑 twilightsparkleno1fan Follow

🔧 applejackenjoyer Follow

nexus NO

179 notes

🪔 cloudandloud Follow

eclipse v2 and nexus are one in the same. hit post. and go to bed

🪔 cloudandloud Follow

i just woke up. ive never been this scared to look at notes in my life

979 notes

💡 ballogmore Follow

i love going to the pizzaplex with my little sister bc she's there for the glamrocks. i'm there to see if i can get my hands on that twinky little jester

🔋 buttonsandbatterypacks Follow

Which twinky little jester op

💡 ballogmore Follow

the daycare attendant model??? whomst the fuck else?????

🔋 buttonsandbatterypacks Follow

You'd be surprised how little that narrows it down, actually

34,343 notes

🧛🏿‍♀️ horseonabeach-man Follow

🗡️ leavethatlittleguyalone Follow

bro what did v2 do to you

🧛🏿‍♀️ horseonabeach-man Follow

exist

557 notes

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

every day i try to not let my brother rob a bank, and then every day he provides me good reasons as to why i should let him

🌕 ricksanchezreborn Follow

sun do yuo know what you could do with the money

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

i dont want to know, moon

🌕 ricksanchezreborn Follow

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

do you need a getaway diver

52 notes

🌊 themagicwawa Follow

"sun is so cute!! solar's such a dilf. nexus being insane is so ho-"

absolutely none of you can handle what i have to say about him

99 notes

👾 certifiedrobotfracker

god help me, hes so fine

🏝 chronicappleeater-deactiaved062324

yeah, him and all 5 pixels

👾 certifiedrobotfracker

i see god smited you for this one

😈 itsme-fromthebible

wrong deity, but appreciate it regardless

👾 certifiedrobotfracker

THE DEVIL FROM THE BIBLE??!?!

823,383 notes

🦌 dailydazzledeer Follow

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

if anything happens to this blog i genuinely hope taurus destroys the planet

55,932 notes

🦫 elchipichipichapachapa Follow

it's taken months, but i've finally finished it. the document explaining everything wrong with the sun and moon show

here's the link. enjoy

732 notes

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

every time one of us makes them mad, moon and nexus get closer to becoming the Hitachiin twins from ohshc to retaliate, and i fear the day they decide to just do it

🌕 ricksanchezreborn Follow

even the thought of doing that is stupid

🌑 twilightsparkleno1fan Follow

even the thought of doing that is stupid

☀️ catdadofthedecade Follow

HOW DID YOU BOTH REBLOG AT THE EXACT SAME TIME THIS POST HAS BEEN UP FOR 4 MINUTES

18 notes

🟦 woobificationofthesillies Follow

"we need more evil women in the world!!!" you people cant even handle miku

932,382 notes

🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

starting a conspiracy theory that we're all just puppets in a youtube show's script and that's why our lives are so miserable

🌠 worldrecordnutellaeater Follow

hey guys why was i shadowbanned after posting this

8 notes

#tsams #the sun and moon show #sams #sun and moon show #the lunar and earth show #tlaes #lunar and earth show #laes #tumblr dashboard simulator #funny things tag #lunar (tsbs)#earth (tsbs)#sun (tsbs)#old moon (tsbs)#new moon/nexus (tsbs)#solar (tsbs)#'why isnt eclipse in this?' hes too busy with the two Leash Children in the new dimension fdkjsdf

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cannellee · 4 months

Note

Who were the other options you had in mind for parhetic alphas, considering you said there were so many choices for the number 3 place before you gave it to Hakkai? Who is in the top 10 pathetic whipped Alphas?

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ alpha! tokyorev x omega! reader (pairing : shinichiro, takemichi, hakkai, yamagishi, angry, naoto, kisaki, shion, kazutora, hanma)

— top 10 pathetic alphas of tokyorev (part. 1)

I struggled a bit to finish this, I honestly don't think there are 10 real pathetic men, shinichiro and takemichi easily take the first places. but after them, it's hard to choose. it's obviously not extremely representative but here's my thoughts on this!

MY MASTERLIST : ☆

𐙚. N°1 : ALPHA! SHINICHIRO

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 2 : ALPHA! TAKEMICHI

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N°3 : ALPHA! HAKKAI

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 4 : ALPHA! YAMAGISHI

yamagishi is an awkward nerd who never felt the touch of an omega, he's sweating buckets the first time you initiate skinship. it feels too unreal to him, you have him malfunctioning and you simply enjoy his panicked look.

he's such a beta-passing alpha and that's what he's most insecure about, despite being told he needs to toughen up, he can't help but crave your validation. people often mock him for how your roles seem to have been exchanged, but what else is he supposed to do when his goddess of an omega talks ever so sweetly to him like that ?

you often laugh at him whenever he acts all serious and tough, you love it when he tries to impress you that way, thinking the way he glances at you to judge your reactions is subtle (it's not), but you play along and give him the attention he needs.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 5 : ALPHA! ANGRY

of course angry is on the list. he's so sensitive and attentive, always carefully analysing your reactions and what you say to him, making sure he never upsets his lovely omega.

you're such an important person to angry that he can't help but let his whole world spin around you like you're his sun. he cooks, he cleans and gives plenty of gifts. whatever you want is yours in the minute. he'll cry if you get mad at him or even show him the slightest form of disapproval. if you refuse to talk to him, he throws the little pride he had to beg and plead for you to look at him again.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 6 : ALPHA! NAOTO

naoto isn't that pathetic, but shy and nervous enough to stir up funny reactions from him whenever he's around you. what's best, is how composed he is with everyone else but you. he acts all serious and shit, but all of that crumble when you're looking at him with your big doe eyes, sweetly smiling at him.

how could such a tall and honorable alpha fold so fast for a tiny omega such as yourself ? that's what everyone is wondering. but naoto doesn't care about stupid gender roles and simply embraces the fact that you make him double check himself when you're about to meet up.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 7 : ALPHA! KISAKI

bro started a whole war and killed people 'for' his omega, you can't tell me this isn't pathetic behaviour. see it however you like, but when kisaki sets his eyes on something or someone, he is obssessed. never lets you out of his sight, desperately scenting you, having people spy on you... in my opinion, kisaki is giving stalker vibes and only loosers choose that option : they're too scared to confront their crush and end up caring for them from a distance.

kisaki is a red flag who wants to keep control of his omega but at the same, can't keep the conversation going because of his sweaty hands and sloppy speech. however, while some alphas are okay with appearing weaker, kisaki hates that and absolutely despises the way you make him feel. he has little outbursts here and there if you jokingly bring it up.

he just can't wait to make you his, turn you into a submissive omega who won't dare mock him anymore whenever he gets nervous. but for now, he'll settle for the photos he took of you and your faint scent of honey and candy lingering on his jacket after you grabbed his arms.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 8 : ALPHA! SHION

shion isn't exactly pathetic, he's just a dumb alpha who absolutely can't resist your manipulation and mind games. I don't remember where exactly I saw this, but it's somehow popular in the fandom (I think?) that shion is a bit of a himbo, and I agree.

he's got the muscles, but honestly, you outbrain him easily. yes, he's aggressive and yes, he does bark and bite. but not towards his omega! he follows exactly what you say without even fully grasping the whole situation, point someone with your finger and you can be sure shion is jumping on him, convinced he offended you. his protectiveness is just genuine and has that comical simplicity.

he might overcomplicate your relationships with others and see a rival in any of them. you have to be careful with your words just in case he misunderstands them and causes a huge ruckus.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 9 : ALPHA! KAZUTORA

similarly, kazutora isn't exactly pathetic but has his own special ways of showing he's interested which would make him worthy of the 9th place.

alpha kazutora who's absolutely wrecked and deranged by his background and relationship with mikey, can do no good. still, he has learned ways to control himself as to not scare you off. which is why he'd rather stay away from you and instead, look at you from a distance. he's very subtle actually so you won't ever catch him staring.

but what makes him slightly pathetic is how delusional he is about your relationship while still being insecure. he'll get aggressive at times when he senses a tiny bit of disinterest from you and get mad. he's toxic and hopeless, but can't make up his mind to leave you alone. his contradictory spirit is very hard to grasp, but what's clear is his dependance on you, his innocent omega. he's constantly checking and making sure you love him, asking questions he expects only one answer to. he's jealous and paranoid, often clinging to you and asking for your forgiveness if his possessiveness pushed him to go too far.

overall, it's his emotional instability which makes kazutora pathetic.

· · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 10 : ALPHA! HANMA

hanma isn't pathetic at all, but I had to find someone for the last one sooo.

he isn't pathetic but he just has little to no regard to his dignity as an alpha and as a person. he likes the thrill of trying new things and getting out of his comfort zone, which is exactly what his sweet omega urges him to.

you like that side of hanma, you can do whatever and he'll let you, simply because he enjoys the unexpected, being surprised and not being stuck in a routine.

you can be temperamental, vulgar and mean all you want, he'll just laugh because that's unusual for an omega. his ego won't get hurt because he's confident in himself, he can fight, is part of a gang and has a lot of connections, pleasing his omega by doing a few shameful tricks is far from being degrading in his eyes.

but that only works if you also let him play with you however he wants. so with hanma, it's more like, how far are you ready to take it. you're not necessarily on top and you'll find out soon enough that he's the one with the less limits, which can be scary something.

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arc-misadventures · 7 months

Text

An Offer You Won’t Refuse

Jaune: Why can’t you guys believe me when I say I got laid?

SN: Because it’s you.

Jaune: Haaaa… Assholes.

The person complaining that his roommates couldn’t believe he had sex was one, Jaune Luna Arc. A first year college student majoring in business. While his collage roommate’s doubting the fact that he had sex were a blonde hair monkey faunas named, Sun Wukong, and their friend the blue haired self proclaimed ‘ladies man’ named, Neptune Vasilias.

The duo had dragged, Jaune to a bar with the intent of, ‘picking up some ladies.’ And, where he had actually managed to score a night with a beautiful lady, they had failed to get anything. And, because of this they doubted that he got anything. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it…

Jaune: You guys are just jealous I spent a night with a lady, while the only thing you guys got was a pair of matching black eyes.

Jaune’s remark was a very accurate statement of fact that after he come from an enjoyable one-night stand he came back to see the pair with ice packs over their eyes.

Sun: Not true!

Neptune: I would have totally banged that chick! If her boyfriend didn’t arrive…

Jaune: Yeah, that’s why you didn’t get any.

Neptune: Hey man, you just don’t understand the art, of seduction~!

Jaune: The what?

Sun: The art of seducing a woman~!

Jaune: And, that is?

Neptune: We’re falcons pal…

Sun: Falcons~!

Neptune: You can’t just send us out when a pretty girls is there, and expect us to capture her now can you?

Sun: That’s not how we falcons fly.

Neptune: We gotta fly high, and scope out the prey, and when we find our mark we’ll swoop in for the kill. We just can’t go in, and steal the girl on command now can we?

Sun: It’s an art, Jaune. You wouldn’t understand it.

Jaune just looked at the duo as he was forced to comprehend the dumbest thing he had yet heard, and considering the people who he hung around that was something.

Jaune: What the hell are you two talking about?! Yes you can send a falcon out on command to hunt its prey! There’s an entire sport based around it: Falconry!

Sun: Eh?

Neptune: Beg pardon?

Jaune: It’s like one of the oldests sports out there! People are still doing it to this day! Hell, people have been using falcons, and hawks to take down drones!

Neptune: That’s not true… right?

Sun: Oh shit, they actually use hawks to take down drones.

Neptune: Wait really?!

Jaune: Haa… if hitting on girls was like hitting the broadside of a barn, you lot couldn’t hit it with a, Javelin missile.

Sun: I couldn’t do that!

Neptune: Guns scare me!

Jaune dropped his head as he sighed at the duo’s stupidity, or more accurately their ignorance.

Although stupidity is a more adept description the pair. The duo would offer a drowning man a drink thinking he’s not drowning, just really thirsty.

Jaune: A Javelin missile is an rpg with an auto-lock feature. Not a gun.

Neptune: There’s a difference?

Jaune: Haa… you see this is why I don’t invite you to play, Arma with my clan.

Neptune: Well we may not know the difference between… weapons…? But, that still doesn’t mean you had sex with a girl.

Jaune: Guys, it’s been two weeks since we went to the bar, can we just drop it, and move…

“Knock, knock, knock.”

Jaune: On…?

Jaune stopped talking in his tracks as he heard a knocking upon the door. He looked at the pair while pointing his finger at the door.

Jaune: We’re you…?

The pair shook their heads, and shrugged their shoulders. They weren’t expecting anyone to come visit them. Like anyone would anyway.

Jaune just shrugged his shoulders as he walked over, and opened the door, he was met with several individuals dressed in black suits with tinted shades hiding their face. The quartet seemed to be watching around them to see if anyone was coming.

Jaune was worried they were a hit squad coming to make get their mark. He could only cower as he wondered whose girl, Neptune pissed off that they would put a mark on him. But, that thought swiftly died as he started at the woman between what actually were four bodyguards. For it was not someone he expected to meet again. He never thought she would grace his presence with her beauty ever again.

With flowing ashen white hair cascading down her elegant shoulders. Draped in a tapestry of fine jewelry of silver, sapphires, and ruby’s. A red gown that displayed a fair amount of her sizeable cleavage, as a dark coat hung lazily off her shoulders. But, what drew, Jaune in the most were those red tinted glasses, that hid a pair of striking vibrant red eyes that he lost himself in.

It was the lady from his one night stand. A woman, Jaune would never forget until death took him.

Jaune: S-Salem?!

Salem: Hello, Ar… no. Hello, Jaune. You’re looking well.

Jaune: Thank you! Y-You’re looking fantastic. But, uhh… why are you here? You said after our… night together that it would be just a one time thing, and we would never see each other again. And, yet here you are.

Salem: And, yet here I am…

Jaune could barely see, Salem’s eyes because they blended beautifully with her glasses, but he could tell by the way her body was seemingly twitching that she was nervous. He was about to ask her whats wrong, but then his roommates happened.

Sun: Holy hell?! You actually had sex?!

Neptune: Damnmmm! She is smoking hot! How much did she cost you? Eh, eh?!

Salem could tell by his teasing manner upon which the blue boy spoke he was joking with, Jaune. But, to insinuate that she was a call girl?! Maybe she should let her associates teach this child some manners.

But before, Salem could give the command, Jaune held a single finger up, silently asking for a moment before shutting the door. She was wondering what was going on, but then she heard a loud thud as if something had fallen over. As the door soon reopened to reveal the smiling face of, Jaune Arc. She could see behind him the form of the blue haired boy, groaning in pain as he clutched his groin.

Salem shot, Jaune a small smile from the corner of her lips, and he just waved it off as if it was nothing.

Jaune: So… What bring you to our humble abode?

Salem: I need to discuss something with you of the utmost importance.

Jaune: Okay, what is it?

Salem’s eyes darted around as if she was trying to find the words to speak before she returned his gaze.

Salem: This would be a discussion best help in private.

Jaune nodded his head as he told his friends to scram. The blond monkey nodded his head as he pulled his friend, who was in the fetal position whilst still clutching his privates on the floor out the room. As soon as they were out of the room, Jaune stood aside allowing, Salem to enter his dorm room.

Salem: Thank you for allowing me… in…?

Salem’s thought process stopped in its tracks rather abruptly. She was going to tell him something important, but as she took in the absolute state of, Jaune’s apartment her mind did a reset, and was the midst of a reboot as she processed this, ‘mess.’

Jaune was about to ask her if something was wrong, then he saw where her eyes were going, and he sighed in understanding.

Jaune: Yeah its a…

Salem: A pig sty?

Jaune: That’s an… apt description.

Jaune’s apartment was an absolute mess: Wrappers, and empty bottles strewn across the place. Half finished take out boxes laying across every table in sight. Clothes from teeshirts to underwear draped all over the furniture. But, there was one thing that was most damning of all that was the crown jewel of this pig sty.

Salem: I-Is that a banana peel on the lamp shade?

Jaune: Haa… Gods dammit, Sun…

Jaune looked over, and groaned in disgust as he grabbed a bucket, seemingly filled to the brim with banana peels, and tossed the latest addition into the bucket.

Jaune: Sun, uhh… the blond monkey faunas you saw earlier. His family are all monkey faunas’s so the have a habit of eating a banana, and tossing the peal away when they’re finished.

Salem: Not into the trash I assume?

Jaune: Unfortunately not. I’ve told him to stop doing that, but he won’t listen to me. So, I’ve been collecting his banana peels for the past two weeks, and I plan to stuff them in his pillow case as form of petty vengeance.

Salem: Do you think that will work?

Jaune: Well, they stink so they should send a message of sorts. If not I’ll tie his tail to the bed frame, or something.

Salem: You would do that to a faunas; That seems rather cruel don’t you think?

Jaune: I have slipped on several banana peels, and landed hard on my back, I will make sure he learns through pain that I am very vindictive bastard.

Salem: And, is the rest of this mess from that blue haired boy?

Jaune: Neptune? Ehh no. It’s from both of them, they’re total slobs. I was about to threaten them with bodily harm if they didn’t clean up the place. But, they started going on again that I totally didn’t have sex with a woman who had the body of an angel carved from the finest of marble slabs, craved painstakingly by a superb master craftsman.

Salem: Why thank you~! You would make a handsome marble statue yourself, Jaune.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Ahck?! I-I-I’m sorry?! I didn’t want to tell them anything about you, but they wouldn’t believe me, so I had to say something?! N-Not a lie, you are gorgeous! Divine even… But… Uhh… It’s a little hot in here…? Perhaps I s-should open a window…

Jaune made way for a window, but was stopped in his tracks as he heard, Salem’s melody of laughter. During the time they spent at the bar talking, he spent every moment trying to get a laugh out of her. Her laughter was angelic, and her smile divine. One he spent the whole night trying to make appear before his very eyes.

Salem had told him the sad story of her life, and her past love. It was a story of sorrow, regret, and betrayal. A love that was, a life that could have been, and the truth to a lie that ruined it all.

She didn’t tell him every detail, it was her right to have her secrets. Jaune didn’t want to know everything either, they were just two strangers sitting alone at a bar. One musing over her drink, the other musing over time. He was just there to be the ear who heard her complaining, the voice to ask the question she wanted asked, and the shoulder to cry over.

Afterwards, Salem asked if, Jaune could give her a ride home. She hadn’t drunk a lot, but even a little alcohol mixed with driving a car could be fatal. And, being the gentleman he tried to be, he accepted her request for aid.

He took her home, and he would have left things at that. But, she insisted that he come in, he remembered her giving him a vague excuse of why he should stay, but he never remembered it. What made him stay was the pleading look in her eyes that beg that she didn’t want to be alone. So he stayed, and one thing lead to another, and he awoke in her bed with her resting softly against him.

It was a moment of weakness, and desire of the flesh. One that they both knew that shouldn’t have happened. But, it was one neither would deny they regretted. After that they agreed to part ways, they would never regret this moment of fleeting love shared between them. But, it was a one time deal, and they would never see each other again.

And yet, Salem was here, right now, right before, Jaune’s very eyes.

Jaune: Why don’t we go to my room? I can assure you it doesn’t look like a bomb went off at a dump.

Jaune opened the door to his room, and ushered, Salem inside his room. Salem was hesitant to enter his room, because it was his, but he assured her it wasn’t like the pigsty she was currently standing in, so she walked in. And, what surprised her ahead l was that, Jaune, once again, he was true to his word.

While the description of, ‘a bomb that went off at a dump,’ was an adept description of their living room, Jaune’s room was a complete contrast to that.

His bed was made, his clothes hanged on their hooks, his floor was vacuumed, and his books neatly arrange along the book case. Even the little figurines he had were neatly in their display cases. The only mess there was upon his desk where an assortment of art supplied, and school books lay strewn about. And, if anything, it would be considered an organized mess at best.

Jaune: Would you like a seat?

Jaune pushed, his charge towards her, and graciously offered her a seat. Salem looked towards the chair, and simply shook her head at his kind offer.

Salem: No, no thank you. But, perhaps you should take a seat.

Jaune: Why, is something wrong, Salem?

Salem: Over a week after our night together, I went in for a medical check up. Standard routine check up for me, I usually have one every three months, or so.

Jaune: That’s a good routine to have. I probably should get a check up myself, it’s been a while since I last saw a doctor.

Salem: Yes… while I was having my check up… They discovered something rather… unexpected…

Jaune: You’re dying?!

Jaune didn’t understand why someone he had a fling with was coming here to tell him that. Unless, was it his fault she was dying?

Jaune was about to start having a panic attack, when, Salem rushed forward, and spoke softly as she tried to calm his nerves.

Salem: Nononono… It’s nothing like that. Quite the opposite really.

Jaune: What’s the opposite of dying? Reincarnation?

Salem laughed as she shook her head, taking off her glasses, and gently placing them on his desk.

Salem: I forgot how much of an adorable goofball you are.

Jaune: Thank you?

Salem: Jaune… let me put this to you bluntly.

Jaune: Okay?

Salem straightened her back, and started, Jaune dead in the eye. Crimson, and cerulean locked in a bitter struggle, neither wanting to look away from the beauty before their eyes.

What felt like an eternity, but merely lasted a few seconds, Salem took a deep breath, and told, Jaune the reasons she was here. A reason that filled her with equal parts dread, and hope. So, with those blood red eyes, she stared at the young man, and spoke words with a voice of steel that completely enthralled him to ever word that dropped from her luscious red lips.

Salem: Jaune… You better take responsibility, or else…

Jaune: …

Jaune: Eh…?

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby salem #neptune vasilias #sun wukong #jaune x salem #salem x jaune #rwby grimmknight

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asagaciousmind · 4 months

Text

TOUR THOUGHTS

Saw the Les Miserables Tour at the Princess of Wales Theatre in Toronto on May 21 2024; here are my thoughts (Long read, sorry I have a lot of feelings)

Prologue/Look Down/Valjean's Soliloquy

We got like, holographic waves crashing and the men are rowing a boat LIKE THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO BE it's awesome

Oh my god the pipes on the background actors were so good. THE SUN IS STRONG ITS HOT AS HEEELLL BELOW

I miss Javert's stupid guard hat. Was bareheaded as he gave Valjean his yellow ticket

PETIT GERVAIS?????????? Valjean steals a little boy's coin when he's roaming the countryside 😭

Randy Jeter as the Bishop blew me away. Not just his voice but his acting was FANTASTIC every single movement was like. I am an old bishop. This is how an old bishop moves. Idk idk it was really good

Nick Cartell did a great job w Valjean overall, but I totally loved him as pre-MsurM Valjean the most. He acts like a feral animal, grabbing the wine out of the nun's hands and the bread from the priest all hunched over and practically snarling - very very cool and awesome

At the End of the Day

Not a negative but when we went to At the End of the Day there was very minimal lighting and my first thought was Oh no the lighting broke hope they fix it and we don't have to have a brief intermission but then when they went 'At the end of the day there's another day dawning' the lights went up and I was like OHHHHHHHHHHHH so that's just me not understanding lighting direction

Foreman killed it, so did all of the factory workers I love all the interactions and ad-libbing in the background it makes me so happy to see

Every time I saw a tall graceful ensemble member I was like '"That's Kyle Adams" and 8/10 times I was right. Otherwise it was Daniel Gerard Bittner

I Dreamed A Dream

OKKKK VOCALS???? Haley Dortch has such a beautiful, clear, emotional sound and she left not a dry eye in the house. Literally the second intermission hit my parents and myself were like. Holy shit dude what about that Fantine

I got her autograph after the show and she was so so sweet 🥺 She accidentally messed up her signature and had to redo it and was apologising to me and I was like GIRL you brought the house down you could stab me right now and I'd be like 'Thanks have a good one'

Lovely Ladies / Fantine's Arrest

Bamatabois (David Andino) was a standout performance, really chewed the scenery and I adored every second he was on stage (Plus his costume was fantastic)

The other girls defending Fantine 🥺

I like that after the police show up and they basically arrest all of the ladies and pimps, regular well-off citizens come out to witness Valjean defending Fantine from Javert. Thought it was a nice touch

Fantine's Death

My first and only cry of the evening, Haley Dortch no one does it like you

The Confrontation

If you've heard me talk about the confrontation you'll know that I absolutely hate the new chain choreography, HOWEVER. I really really liked it this time. Preston in particular gave it a lot of physicality that I enjoyed

Nick Cartell is a little guy and I don't really believe that his Valjean managed to knock out Preston's Javert

For some reason the percussion was really loud and I could barely hear the vocals so I don't have many thoughts on them

Master of the House / Waltz of Treachery

MATT CROWLE YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS

Both Thenardiers were fantastic, not a crazy amount of ad-libbing but when they did they made it count ("BYE, BAGUETTE")

Madame in particular was hilarious

Master of the House is very busy in a good way, everywhere you look interesting things are happening. Another number where the ensemble shines and you can tell everyone is having a blast

The Bargain was funny as hell, Thenardier tells Cosette to die in his arms and she goes limp when he's saying she's 'often been ill'

Valjean gives Cosette Catherine!

Look Down / The Robbery

Gavroche was super charismatic and confident, really great child actor (Milo Maharlika)

Eponine tosses Marius' book across the stage and he goes "I like the way you always ... tease 😐" They're such cute friends together

After Enjolras and the boys are done their preaching Enjolras gets stopped by a policeman and is told off 😭

During the robbery Montparnasse keeps Marius away by brandishing his little knife at him which I thought was cute

Also! Montparnasse is the only member of Thenardier's gang to escape during the Robbery!!! Which is a nice Brick reference

After Thenardier's 'In the absense of a victim' spiel he does this exact pose

Gavroche's little 'Clear the streets' 🫡moment is so cute

Stars

God I love Preston Truman Boyd

His Javert is so stalwart and reserved and dedicated, he's kind of robocop and it really really works, and you get to see just a smidge of vulnerability peek out in this song

ABC Cafe / Red and Black

I DON'T REMEMBER A LOT bare with me

Grantaire was absolutely the standout. Slapped Marius' butt with his coat. Stuck his wine bottle dick in Enjolras' face. Offered Combeferre a sip of his wine (who reluctantly accepted). Blew a kiss at Enjolras

Kyle Adams physicality is probably my favourite aspect of his Grantaire - he moves very assuredly, like a cat, in a way that is like okay he's drunk but he's so used to being drunk that his stumbling is more like dancing. I remember reading a fic that described Grantaire's movements in a similar way and I wonder if that was one of the fics Kyle took inspiration from?

OOH they did the wine bottle keep-away thing with Grantaire and Marius which I didn't know they still did so that was exciting

J.T Wood is such a cute Joly I love his voice

In Do You Hear the People Sing Grantaire grabs a gun and holds it at arms-length like it has cooties before handing it off to another student

Combeferre waves the flag both times (Here and in One Day More) and I'm not sure if it's always Combeferre who does that or if it's because Andrew Marks Maughan is clearly the most physically strong of the Barricade Boys

In My Life / A Heart Full of Love

Delaney Guyer is a really good Cosette in that she has a gorgeous voice and also has a lot of personality and actually reacts to things going on around her

Marius (who was played by Christopher James Tamayo for this performance) is such a cute little nerd. You can see him try to figure out what he's going to do, then he throws a rock at Cosette's window and kind of cringes at the noise - he's so unsure of himself and awkward

Cosette is very excited that he's here and closes the window right away, which prompts Marius' 'I'm doing everything all wrong!' until she reappears downstairs and they get to be cute dorks in love

Attack on Rue Plumet

I don't remember a lot but I DO remember that Eponine was really good here

When Valjean is like 'Tomorrow we'll away' Cosette goes 'WHAT? NO!'

David Andino is so good as Babet he is a chronic scene stealer at this point

One Day More

If you know Another thing about me you know I hate the One Day More box-step but it actually did not bug me this time. They put Grantaire next to Enjolras for the marching portion which is cute

On My Own

Holy shit Mya Rena Hunter delivered the most heartbreaking and powerful rendition of this I've ever heard

The Barricade

Loved Feuilly in his little part

Javert is a good spy. If I didn't know the plot of Les Mis I would've been like Holy shit that's Javert? Crazy. I love him drawing the 'plans' he'd overheard into the ground with a stick

Gavroche flipping Javert off >>>>>

Buff Combeferre is one of the two to drag Javert away to be tied up lol

A Little Fall of Rain

The only version of ALFoR that actually made me feel something

Marius and Eponine get a lot of time to be cute together before the barricade actually notices that she's dying - and Gavroche is the first to notice and gets a front row seat to her death which is heartbreaking

The First Attack

Grantaire's "AND SO THE WAR WAS WON!" was sooo scathingly sarcastic

Javert waited, like, 30 seconds to leave after Valjean freed him, with his back almost against the barrel of Valjean's gun as if he were hoping to be shot

When the gun went off the entire barricade abruptly snapped their heads to look at Valjean and the audience laughed 😭

Telling Valjean 'Well done' for shooting a tied up hostage is a strange choice

Drink With Me

I still hate 'For certain as the eagle flies' I think it's the dumbest line in the entire musical

Grantaire's part was very grand - His voice has like noticeably changed at this point in the musical to give it a sort of hoarse hopeless quality to it which absolutely hits you in the feels

Enjolras comforted him and I swear Grantaire let his hand linger on his cheek for a few seconds longer than normal before pushing him away

Gavroche hugged Grantaire from behind and Grantaire couldn't even turn around at first because he was so distraught and kind of blindly reached for him 😭

Chris Tamayo's Marius is such a poor little meow meow

Bring Him Home

Absolutely jaw-dropping performance from Nick Cartell

He sings Bring Him Home like it's a lullaby - which it's supposed to be

I don't exaggerate when I say that the applause went on for about a minute straight, and was the loudest of the night by far

Death of Gavroche / The Final Battle

Oh poor thang

Grantaire near the end of Gavroche's singing was turned away facing the audience like he knew Gav was going to die and couldn't bear to watch 🥺

Later on in the final battle Grantaire spends most of the time next to Gavroche's body in like a catatonic state

The SPOTLIGHTS representing BULLETS as Les Amis died almost made me lose it

Grantaire dies last, I'm sure he said something before he started climbing the barricade but I couldn't hear it 😭He and Enjolras still have their moment over Marius' body

The Sewer

Javert comes across Enjolras' cart-carried body (Still hate the cart but I can learn to appreciate it) and looks a bit uncomfortable

Then he stumbles upon Gavroche's corpse, kneels, and does the sign of the cross over him

Almost made me cry ngl

DOG EATS DOG WAS SO GOOD I LOVED IT

Javert looked like he wanted to shoot Valjean as he walked away with Marius

Javert's Suicide

HOOOOOOLYYYY SHIIIIITTTTT

It was so good

Preston Truman Boyd you will always be famous I fully believe that Javert had completely lost his mind at this point in the play

I don't have many thoughts on the rest but I loved Marius and Cosette reading Valjean's confession as he walked away with Fantine - and the Bishop hugging him as he arrives in heaven

Also Kyle Adams as Major Domo mincing about the stage in The Wedding was an absolute delight

Am very sleepy now but overall 10/10 I love this cast so much

#les mis #les miserables #kyle adams #les mis tour #les mis us tour

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echobx · 4 months

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Timing - JJ Maybank × fem!reader

summary: reader is dealing with losing JJ after he went missing with the rest of the Pogues (end of s2! to start of s3!), leaving her and her heart behind

warnings: angst, visions of drowning (not detailed), delusions and visions because of malnutrition and depression

word count: 1.3k

Your dream has destroyed your peace. Peace as much as anyone can call your state of being such. There is nothing peaceful about the depression you have fallen into, nothing quirky about the way your body trembles at every touch, always reminded of him.

author's note: I write angsty shit when I'm depressed. it's a theme.

You're curled up in your bed, eyes burning red, nose runny, mouth slightly agape. The alarm clock on your nightstand reads 2:48am and you watch the minutes run.

2:49am.

You know you should drink something to regain a tiny bit of strength and maybe fall back asleep, but when you drink you'll just be able to cry even more. So you don't. Maybe if you refuse to, it will end faster.

2:50am.

The branch outside your window keeps knocking against the glass. The same dull noise that his knuckles made almost every night. But you know it's not him. You know he's gone.

2:51am.

Maybe a shower would help. But you'd have to get up for that, so it's a no for the shower. No one there to jokingly say, “you're gonna shower without me, princess?”

2:52am.

If you'd look out of the window you'd see his bike, parked in the same spot where he'd left it that day. Quickly stopping by to tell you about a new lead. Telling you to not worry. Telling you to stay home because it probably meant nothing, and after all, it's too dangerous, he'd kill himself if something happened to you.

2:53am.

And your mind drifts back to sleep, exhausted from the pain and malnutrition.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave you, my love,” JJ is standing in front of your house. He looks as pretty as ever. Cut off shirt, cargo shorts, boots, his favorite red cap on backwards and a sorry smile on his face. But when you jump forwards into his arms you fall and you fall and fall and fall. Drowning, really. Sinking to the bottom of the ocean. His lost treasure, truly.

Maybe that's what you had signed up for unknowingly. A life of pain because you fell in love with a boy who couldn't sit still for the life of him.

“Hey, shhh, it's okay. I'm right here,” JJ’s voice is like music to you and when you open your eyes he's holding you close in his arms.

“Is this real? Are you really here?” you ask, close to tears.

“Of course I'm here. Where else would I be but with my favorite girl,” he laughs softly and kisses your forehead, but you can't feel it.

“This is a dream,” you remind yourself and sit up.

“Does it matter? I'm here now. You have me. Isn't that enough?” JJ asks and you press your hands to your ears and cradle your body, swinging back and forth in your seat.

“Not real. Wake up. Wake up!” you tell yourself and after some time it finally works.

The alarm clock reads 4:21am.

The sun is coming up soon. You think about how real it had felt before he had kissed you. You think about how much more comfortable it had been to drown than to be alive.

4:22am.

Maybe it's the dumbest thing ever, love. It's just too painful. You could do good without love.

4:23am.

Your favorite shirt of his doesn't even smell like him anymore.

4:24am.

In ten minutes it'll be four weeks that your parents had woken you up in panic to make sure you hadn't vanished the same way your friends had.

4:25am.

Your feet carry you to your closet. Getting dressed is methodical.

4:26am.

He left his keys. “So I have no choice but to come back to you, princess.”

4:27am.

You know your parents will wake up when they hear the engine of the bike, so you decide to push it for a bit, down the road and then you can get on.

4:28am.

He didn't park in neutral. Stupid boy. Stupid stupid boy who stole your stupid stupid heart.

4:29am.

The engine is louder than you expected. You see the lights turn on inside your home, but you're already gone by the time your parents have realized what you are doing.

4:30am.

Cold air stings when it shoots right into your teary face.

4:31am.

The sun is coming up in the distance, it's beautiful. You remember doing this with JJ. Staying up all night and driving around to see the sunset and come up again.

4:32am.

You stop at a red light although no one is there. JJ had started touching your ankles on the pegs every time he had to stop.

4:33am.

The Shack is sitting lonely at the sound. The hammock’s empty, the porch lonely and the pick-up orphaned.

4:24am.

Breaking and Entering is illegal actually. Not that you care, you've done worse with JJ by your side. You need a new shirt, maybe the ones in the closet here still smell like him. You need it like a drug addict seeks the next kick.

4:25am.

One month and no life sign. You should stop hoping. Stop wishing. Stop. “JUST STOP” you scream and fall down on the bed.

4:26am.

“I'm not even doing anything,” JJ whispers from next to you.

“Leave me. I don't want to love you anymore. It hurts so much. Please,” you cry and curl up on the bed, holding onto the shirt.

“I can't. You know why,” he whispers, lying opposite of you.

“I don't want it,” you cry and screw your eyes shut.

“All you gotta do is let go,” JJ whispers.

“I don't know how to not love you,” you hush and reach out for him, but there's nothing there. You're alone.

6:34am.

Ghosts don't know how to make dishes clatter.

6:35am.

You pinch yourself before walking out of the bedroom, making sure it's not another dream.

6:36am.

It has to be a dream. Gotta be. No other explanation.

6:37am.

He hasn't turned around yet. It's a dream. It's a dream, has to be. 5.3% chance that he's real, maybe less.

6:38am.

You take the baseball bat that stands next to the bedroom door in your hand. Ghosts don't feel pain.

6:39am.

You don't know what hurts more, JJ's head or your heart.

6:40am.

“Jesus fucking Christ, who the fuck is trying to murder-” he spins around, one hand still holding onto the bat to stop it from hitting him again.

6:41am.

You can hear your head hitting the wooden floor as you go down.

11:57am.

Hospital beds are not comfortable. The lights are harsh. Your head is screaming.

11:58am.

Someone is holding your hand. Rings, familiar ones at that. You blink slowly. How is this real?

11:59am.

“My ghost keeps torturing me,” you whisper and he turns his blonde head around to you. Furrowed brows and blue eyes stare back at you.

12:00pm.

“You got ghosts? Can I get one too?” JJ smiles and you shake your head.

“You're my ghost, there's no ghost who needs ghosts.”

“Could a ghost do this?”

12:01pm.

His lips are pressed to yours and you can feel it. Hot and heavy and not a dream. Not a Dream. Not. A. Dream.

12:02pm.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave like that, and when we came back I wanted to clean up first. But you got to me quicker,” JJ whispers. “I wish I could turn back time and take you with me.”

12:03pm.

I love you's are underrated. You could hear him mumble it against your lips until you die. And when you say it back he smiles wider.

12:04pm.

Your parents yell at you for running out, but you don't care, you have your ghost. And this time, everyone else can see your ghost too. Everyone can see how much he loves you, and you him.

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

#jj maybank #obx #my writing #~fanfiction #~blurb #outer banks #obx fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank angst #angst

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natigail · 1 month

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I wanted to see how insane their solo stories from this video looked written out, so please enjoy!

Dan's story "The Dragon Prince"

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Dan from the House of Fire who's motto was "the fire in our ass will never die!" And from Phil, House Amazing, the kingdom of squatting. They were sworn enemies whose houses were at war ever since the great lamp licking incidence. One day, Dan was bathing his fiery drake, Kamala, when he saw a glint in the reflection of his gauntlet. It was a surprise attack from that scallywag Phil! He mounted his dragon and yelled his signature war cry: "ZING!" Phil looked down at the fire kingdom. "Hah, more like squishy kingdom." But before he knew it, Dan was on his tail, he was so close he was practically on his toe. Their beasts, Kamala and Markiplier, released flames at the same time like a torrent of lethal piss. Double K.O. They fell to the ground and lost consciousness. Dan awoke to find Phil's brain stuck in Dan's eye. He shouted, "wow, this is a moist situation." Phil roused gayly. "You saved me," he said. They locked eyes and in that moment, they knew how futile their feud was. They saved each other. Did they have to slay each other? In that moment, Phil felt something skipping down his hips. He swam as hard as he could and suddenly, he felt it, Phil had birthed a beautiful, purple egg. Dan scoffed, "the prophecy is true." "It's our child," Phil said. "The legendary worm and we shall name him Gary." The end.

Phil's story "The Princes"

Once upon a castle in a kingdom called Evony, there were two princing belonging to warring families. Tonight was the last time they would meet before the great battle. Danielo awoke, sword in hand, as he heard a shuffle at the door. Philipus walked into his bedroom wearing a panty. "I didn't mean to disturb you but I thought I should tell you that my father is bringing a dragon to the party and also a large, enchanted hippo. Danielo cried a single tear. "I don't want to die for this stupid family, I just want to be a knight with you and help old ladies cross the street." "Why must we spill blood?" Danielo smirked. "Glory and Amazon coins. Philipus said, "it's our final night together, I thought we could do our favourite activity - twerking. It might make us a bit sweaty but it makes me constipated. As the sun rose, the two knights had fallen asleep in a hay field, using rabbit shit as bedding. This was the morning of the battle, they would be on opposing side. Danielo flew into battle on his dragon Jeff, scanning the skies for his prince Philipus. Philipus raised a sword into the sky as he was silhouetted by the beast. This was not a fair fight. The war had begun. Thousands were being killed. Philipus had a secret weapon, a medieval salami. His best friend flew down from his dragon and approached him. They crossed swords. "I can't do this, Philipus," screamed Danielo. "I want to move to North Korea, start our jobs as Only Phans models." Philipus tried to reason with him but suddenly, Danielo's dragon Jeff started to breath fire at them both. It was so hot, Danielo was on fire. He had one final word for Philipus: "yeee..." as both knights burned to death. They were then eaten by the dragon as a toasty, barbecue snack. They tasted like Takis Fuego. The dragon went on to kill all soldiers and both kings. It ruled the castle in a happy, gay life with his dragon boyfriend, Allisandra, and laid a dragon egg, which he called Kip. They never saw another human again. The princes would always be remembered as the tastiest snacks in the kingdom.

#Writing Phan Fiction About Ourselves #dan and phil #dan howell #phil lester #DanAndPhilGAMES

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runningfrom2am · 9 months

Text

leveling the playing field XV

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 5.7k (omg)

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do.). implications and mentions of abuse and some non-graphic violence, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (heavy on that one in this part guys). also, r is unhinged as shit in this one!! enjoy!!

a/n: and it all comes down to this… damn. only one more part 🥲. this one was long but so so fun to write and i really hope you enjoy it!! final part and the epilogue are coming soon! oh! and the playlist is here!!

series masterlist // playlist

When you finally make it to the compound, you're grateful that it's almost deserted by the peacekeepers. There were a few around here and there, but from the hole in the fence you were about to enter through, you had a clear shot to where Sejanus was supposedly being held.

Deep breath. I've got to make this quick.

You exhale and start running, light on your feet with a crowbar in hand, either to break the bars or swing at anyone who tries to stop you from freeing him. Crouched down next to the wall now, you peek in the barred window to one of their many interrogation rooms. Nothing. He has to be in one of these, so you slide over against the wall to look in the next window. At least you didn't have to go far.

"Sejanus." You whisper through the open window, seeing that he's alone inside. And he doesn't look good. His face is swollen, cut, and bruised. Clearly, he's been tortured, but hopefully he hadn't given up Coryo.

He looks up, dazed as if he wasn't sure he was really hearing you. "Sejanus." You repeat. "Get up, we have to go. Right now."

Before he responds, you're already attempting to pry the bars apart.

"Y/N?" He says quietly, stumbling to get up as he makes his way over to the window.

"Yeah, it's me." You nod quickly. "Now how were you going to open these bars for that girl? We don't have much time."

"Uh, okay, uh... Give it to me." He says, gesturing for you to hand him the tool, which you quickly slide through the bars. As soon as he takes it you're digging in your bag, pulling out a hammer to see if you can help pull them out with the backend.

He's much stronger than you, so it doesn't take long for him to yank out three of them- just enough for him to fit through. He moves a chair over to help himself climb out, and you pull him the rest of the way, both of you falling back into the dirt.

You're grabbing him as soon as you get your footing, and you're both sprinting for the hole in the fence where you entered, hidden behind the generator shed. You run until you get to the treeline, stopping to catch your breath once you're out of sight. You don't believe anyone saw you. You're home free.

Panting, hands pressed on your knees, you look over at Sejanus who collapsed into the grass, chest heaving from the exertion. His injuries likely didn't help. "We gotta keep going." You breathe, throat stinging.

"Yeah, I know..." He agrees, clearly just as out of breath. He was in better shape than you, but you assume his injuries are no help. "Why did you do it?" He adds, sitting up and pressing a hand to his chest as if that will help slow his heartbeat.

"What?"

"Come save me." He takes a quick, shaky breath. "You could have been caught, they would kill you too."

"I won't bury another friend." You answer, standing up straight again with a shake of your head. It was a stretch to call Arachne, Felix, or the Twins your friends, but they were just about the closest thing you had to it besides him and Coryo. "You didn't do anything worth killing you over."

Sejanus squints at the sun as he breaks a small smile, looking up at you. "Thank you."

"Anytime." You nod, readjusting the bag over your shoulder. "Now, we gotta get out of here. I don't know where we're gonna hide until morning, but...”

"We?" He asks, brow furrowed as he gets up, dusting off his blue peacekeeper jumpsuit.

"Yes." You confirm. "The four of us are gonna go, without anyone else who was there last night."

"Four..." He hums to himself. "Me, you..."

"Lucy Gray and Coriolanus." You nod, finishing the thought for him.

"I... why?"

You sigh, looking past the trees back to the base. "They're looking for the guns that killed Mayfair and Billy Taupe. The mayor is deadset that it was Lucy Gray, but if they find the guns it'll be both her and Coryo who are killed for it. And I... just aided a rebel escape." You explain, smiling a little as you point to yourself. "And released all those birds. My fingerprints are probably all over those cages, that's probably treason."

"You..?" Sejanus asks, shock crossing his features. "You set them free?"

"Yeah." You nod matter-of-factly. "God, it feels so good to tell someone too. I wouldn't have gotten any credit otherwise."

"Why?" He asks, tilting his head at you.

You shrug. "Wanted to piss off Coryo. It worked, didn't it?"

"Kinda..." He gives you a weird look you can't quite decipher.

"Anyway, let's get going. We have to get Lucy Gray."

"Why are we waiting until morning?" He asks, and you can't help but feel it's somewhat of a stupid question. He's also literally a peacekeeper.

"Coryo can't leave until dawn." You explain. "Probably has to spend the rest of the day hunting you down, now..." You say, mulling over the words as they leave your mouth. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to stick around, but you weren't leaving without Coryo. "Actually, why don't you go ahead?"

"I... Well..." He looks back over his shoulder at the camp as it disappears between the trees, both of you walking deeper into the woods to take the long way back to Lucy Gray's meadow.

"When we get to the meadow there's a pretty clear path out to this lake and cabin in the woods. About three hours walk on that knee, you could be there by supper time, spend the night there and we'll meet you there in the morning." You tell him. "No one knows about it spare for the Covey. You'll be safe there tonight."

"Okay. Yeah, that's a better idea." He agrees, following along after you through the woods.

The night couldn't have gone by slower. Curled up under the trees on the far side of the meadow, you and Lucy Gray hardly said a word to one another but you knew neither one of you was sleeping. That was, until just before you had to leave to meet Coryo. You felt a little guilty for waking her up when she had only just fallen asleep, soft snores falling from her lips until you shook her awake.

Groggily, the two of you made your way to the hanging tree, a clearing in the woods near the peacekeepers compound. It was a haunting area, to be certain. You didn't dare say a word, in case the Jabberjays were to make an echo of it.

You sat down behind the tree just before the sun was set to rise, letting Lucy Gray lean her head on your shoulder to try and get a bit more sleep before Coriolanus showed up. But again, that wouldn't be long.

It was a solid half hour, and the sky was in the middle of its slow shift from orange to blue when you heard footsteps approaching. You both stood quickly, backs pressed to the tree. You peak around it, relieved to see it was him.

"Coryo." You whisper, smiling softly and pulling him into a hug.

"Hey, Y/N/N..." He hums, rubbing your back gently. You can still see the sleep in his eyes; at least one of you got some rest.

"Alright." You sigh, turning to face Lucy Gray before gesturing in the direction of the woods. "Lead the way."

She nods, small smile forming on her face as she looks up at your boyfriend. You had to assume that's what he was to you now- friends don't do what you do.

The two of you follow after her for miles, as quickly but as quietly as possible. It's hard to think about the fact that you're leaving your whole life behind, so you just don't. You zone out as your feet crunch through the now familiar underbrush of the woods, thinking of what the future will hold. Not what it will lack.

It'll lack structure, no doubt, but you'll have all the freedom the world has to offer. You don't know where you'll go, but you can't help but daydream about building a cabin out of the woods, maybe by another lake, where you and Coryo could live together forever. Maybe you'd learn how to make new clothes with materials you find, if you could find any, or maybe you would start your garden again and grow all kinds of beautiful natural flowers alongside almost all of your food. Maybe Coriolanus would become a proficient hunter, and all you would have to do is lay in the sun and look pretty, occasionally gathering things from your garden to go with his catch for dinner. Maybe you'd grow raspberries and wild roses.

Maybe you'd have a child. A little boy he could teach how to speak as eloquently as he does, or hunt as successfully as he will. Maybe it'll be a little girl, who he can dote over while you tend to your garden, and teach her songs you learned from the Covey. She'll be a beautiful singer, a beautiful girl with Coryo's blonde hair and blue eyes to die for. Regardless, you can tell your kids about your lives. About home, about where you grew up and what life used to be. About the uncle they have back home but will never meet, and about your friends who you lost. About Arachne, and Felix, and the twins, about the games and about Sejanus who needed saving more often than not and about how you were both full of pride when your tribute won, Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray.

You're snapped out of your daydreams within a moment. You don't know how long you had been lost in your own mind, imagining a life that doesn't exist, but by now, Coryo was walking a few feet ahead of you with her.

The endearing smile on her face that you can see only when she turns her head to look at him is making you uneasy. She would be there, you won't have to tell your kids about her because she will be there. That's not necessarily a bad thing, Lucy Gray is lovely, and by now you consider her a friend. But maybe she's too lovely. Maybe Coriolanus considers her a friend too, it's clear he does. He has much of a right to as you do, you both saved her life, but mostly him. He pulled the strings, you just helped however you were asked to and more. He decided that her life was worth risking both his and yours to save.

Maybe she meant more to him than you thought. Maybe she is what brought him to Twelve. Maybe, he got to choose and he chose her moments after "choosing" to throw your life away in front of you. He chose her.

"Are you thinking about Sejanus?" She asks, and it's the first bit of their conversation you catch.

"He's fine. Not too injured, he should be waiting at the cabin. I said we'd meet him there." You interject, reminding them of something they already knew.

"I just wish it hadn't come to that." Coryo replies, looking back at you for a fraction of a second before turning back to Lucy Gray. "Sorry, you had to leave this place." He adds after a few moments of silence.

"I'll miss the Covey." She hums, "I hope they'll follow me someday, though." You look at the orange scarf draped over her shoulders, a pit of unease settling uncomfortably just behind your ribs.

"You know what I won't miss? People." Coryo says, and you hum in agreement.

"People aren't so bad. Not really." Lucy Gray shrugs. "It's what the world does to them, like all of us in the arena. I think there's a natural goodness born into us all."

Both of you scoff in practical unison. If you had to guess, it was quite the opposite.

"No, really. You can either... cross that line, into evil... or not. And it's our life's work to stay on the right side of that line."

"It's not always that simple." Coryo replies, looking back at you with something indecipherable behind his stare. Pity? An acknowledgment of your nature being something unworldly in her description? You bite your tongue.

"I know. I'm a victor." Lucy Gray says with a click of her tongue, distaste dripping from her tone. "It sure will be nice to not have to kill anyone else out north though, huh?"

"Two and a half is enough for me." Coryo chuckles, stopping as she continues ahead. You stop with him. "I'm gonna make a walking stick. You want one?" He offers to you, picking up a tree branch from the underbrush.

"I'm fine, thanks." You smile, watching as he tries to brush it off and wincing when he sticks himself on the wood.

"Three? Who's the third?" Lucy Gray asks, turning slowly up ahead.

"You okay?" You ask, ignoring her as he sucks his thumb into his mouth to stop the bleeding you already saw begin.

"What?"

"-Person you killed, Coriolanus. You said you killed three people I only know about two. Do not lie to me." Her voice is harsh. Accusatory. And you don't like it one bit.

"He said two and a half." You chuckle hesitantly, eyeing the girl up and down at her drastic change in attitude. You didn't know who he was talking about either, but you were the one with a hot temper and you wouldn't even react like that.

"Can you help me get this out?" He asks, taking a few steps over to her in effort to distract her from the question.

"Here." You stop him with a gentle hand on his arm. "Let me look..." He stops, looking between the two of you as you take his hand, looking down at the splinter in his thumb.

"There was Bobbin, in the arena, and Mayfair, and who's the third?" Lucy Gray continues, only escalating in her upset over nothing.

Coryo locks eyes with you for a moment, and you raise your eyebrows slightly to try and portray your antipathy with her reaction.

"My old self." He speaks, looking back over at her as you gently try and push the splinter out from under his skin. "I killed him, so I could come with you girls."

"And Sejanus." You giggle, trying to lighten the mood and also distract him from you using your nail to pull the splinter out. It looked painful. "Also, I would say your old self is half of you. Well put."

Lucy Gray clearly wasn't buying it. You could see it in her face as he hissed at you finally getting it out. "There you go." You hum, squeezing his hand gently as it was still cradled in between yours.

"Thank you, Darling." He smiles, pulling back his hand and patting your arm, gesturing to the faded path ahead. "C'mon."

You try your hardest not to glare as you catch up with Lucy Gray, Coryo's arm now rested comfortably over your shoulder.

The rain picked up into a downpour, further softening the ground you were walking on.

"Why don't we stop here at the cabin? Wait out the storm." Coryo suggests as the cabin comes into view up ahead.

"Ugh, please." You agree, already attempting to flatten your soaked hair that is frizzing up from the rain and the humidity.

"We should really keep goin'." Lucy Gray cuts in, making you roll your eyes.

"We're gonna need food on the way." Coryo insists. "Let's catch some fish while we're here." Even if you got to sit in the cabin for a few minutes, it would be well worth it to try and dry off just a bit.

"Sejanus!" You call out as you climb up the steps. "It's us! You okay?" You push open the door, finally feeling like you're able to breathe out of the rain until you realize he's not there. "Sejanus?" You ask, looking around the only corner in the small cabin.

"Not here?" Coryo asks and you shake your head, brow furrowed.

"No..." You hum, peeking out the window. "He must be nearby though. We'll have to wait for him to get back."

"If you wanted fish, there's rods under the floorboards." Lucy Gray says, completely ignoring you and closing the door as she's the last to enter.

Coryo nods, stomping around on the floor to check for which ones were loose. "These ones?"

"Uh-huh." Lucy Gray nods at him, watching as he kneels down to lift the old wooden planks.

"You gonna stay in here, Y/N/N? Dry up a bit?" He asks you and you nod, giving him a small smile. In the corner of your eye you can see Lucy Gray looking at you. She doesn't necessarily look mad, but something is just so... off.

You can't help but wonder if all her negative energy she's putting out is because of you. Not literally, because you remember her being so sweet when you were alone. Is she mad because of you and Coryo? That has to be it. What happened to the girl who helped you write a love song to him and encourage you to sing it?

She helped write it. She was dead set on writing it, actually. You provided the tune and she did most of the rest. You were never much of a poet. She wrote that song to him- you were just the voice she used to tell him. You were a puppet to her, and suddenly your wrists ache from the mere idea that she manipulated you in that way.

The floorboards creak underneath you as you sit down, leaning against the wall. If Lucy Gray was going to be handing out dirty looks, you could too. You lock eyes with her, trying to maintain some semblance of a smile, but you just stare at each other.

Within seconds it's evident that any bit of trust you had for one another is gone. That just won't do if you were running away together. She had to go.

She's the first to cower away from the staring contest, of course, when Coryo stands up again.

"What is it?" She asks him, and as you look, you see he's holding the gun.

You gasp, shooting up from where you had just settled on the ground. "Is that?"

"It's the gun." He answers before you finish your question, an expression of shock and relief embedded in his features.

"The one you fired at Mayfair." Lucy Gray gathers, seeming as she wasn't there. "Spruce must've known about this place." She shrugs, avoiding your gaze completely. "Well, you destroy that gun you're free. You can go back home."

You and Coryo look at each other, unsure what to do or say. He could go back, he was home free. But leaving you with her? And poor Sejanus who was out in the rain somewhere either dead or limping on an almost useless knee? No chance.

"Will you?" She asks.

"No more loose ends..." He nods a little to himself, looking down at the gun in his hands. You poke your tongue into your cheek and look down at the floor. He's actually considering leaving you behind.

"Besides us." You look at Lucy Gray through narrowed eyes as she speaks. What was she trying to imply? You would never do that to him. You figured that was pretty obvious.

"Besides you?" Coryo asks, looking between the two of you. When his eyes land on you he’s more worried, with something more accusatory when they glue on to Lucy Grayverifying your perspective that yes, he knows you would never do that. "You wouldn't tell anyone." He says to her, but it comes out more as a question.

She hesitates before shaking her head with a smile that's so anger inducing you'd like to throw her in the lake and watch her drown. "Course not..." She tops it off with, and you tick your head to the right.

"I mean, it's not like anyone would really believe you." You state. "They're all convinced it was you who pulled the trigger."

"I'm just gonna go dig up some Katniss. There's a good patch down by the lake." She ignores you again. Am I missing something? Am I fucking invisible?

"Thought it was too early for that." Coryo reminds her, and the nervous smile on his face brings you hope that he also knows something is off.

"Well, the world changes awful fast." Even so much as her heavy district accent is driving you up the wall at this point. It's hardly even english.

"Lucy Gray. It's still raining." Coryo pleads with her and you eye the knife in her hand, taking a small step closer to his side.

"Well, I'm not made outta sugar." Lucy Gray says, smiling innocently before turning and walking out, closing the door behind her.

You both stand there in silence for a few moments, him staring at the gun, you staring at him.

"It was Sejanus." He says so quietly you can hardly make it out from under a yard away.

"Huh?"

"I sent a recording of his confession to Dr. Gaul. I was the reason they were going to..." He can't even say it.

"You?" You whisper back. "I... no. That's not your fault."

"It is."

You shake your head, reaching out to gently lower the gun so you can place your hand on his cheek. "It's not, but it doesn't matter anyways because he is out here, with us, and we're gonna be okay. He's gonna be fine, and you're gonna be fine. Yeah?" You assure him, smiling softly as you run your thumb over his cheekbone.

"Yeah..." He mumbles, relaxing under your touch.

"Will you go home?" You ask, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. You really, really didn't want him to leave you out here alone. You wouldn't survive and you knew that.

Coryo looks down at you, shaking his head softly. "No. Not without you. I told you that."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? No, no. Don't be sorry. We're doing the right thing." He promises.

"You think?"

"I know." He smiles. "Don't you trust me?"

"More than anything." You whisper. "But I have one... fear, I guess." You say, rubbing your forearm nervously and looking out the window.

"What is it?"

"Oh, no. It's nothing. I think I'm just being crazy." You chuckle, going over to the window to look out now.

"Y/N, what are you afraid of?" Coryo's tone is serious now, and you have to fight back a smile.

"Well, I was just thinking on the walk out here... Like, what will happen to us, what will we do, you know?" You start, letting the smile slip through at the memory of your daydreams. "I'm thinking we'll build a house out here, a little bigger than this one, but not a whole lot, and I'll have a garden and grow our food and some roses just for you, and we'll just have a happy little life."

The crease of worry in his forehead morphs into one of confusion as he smiles. "What? Then what are you afraid of? That sounds lovely."

"Well... And like I said, I'm sure I'm just being crazy, but Lucy Gray... I just feel like she doesn't want that for us." You say, looking up at him and scanning his face for a reaction.

"Why not?"

"I don't know! That's why it's making me feel crazy because it's so out of character for her but she's been really mean to me all day. Like, I don't know if you've noticed but she's been ignoring me or glaring at me and when she snapped earlier about what you said and I just... Yeah. It's not sitting right with me." You try and wave it off with a nervous smile, but Coryo's eyes are locked on the window, deep in thought.

"Do you think she was using us?" You ask him, when you can see that you're getting in his head. "I mean, from the beginning. She is a performer, after all. Maybe it was all a show, and she didn't want us to come here and she's been waiting for a chance to get rid of us ever since, but now she's stuck with us for the rest of all of our lives. I feel almost... unsafe."

Coryo looks over at you now, eyes cold.

"Okay, and actually, what the hell was that that just happened? She would totally go back and tell them it was you! That was the fakest reaction I have ever seen, and I was friends with Arachne and Clemensia for years!" You laugh bitterly. "Like, who's to say she wouldn't run straight back to town and tell them you shot Mayfair and exactly where to find me? I'm sure my father put out a reward!"

"You're not crazy." He mumbles, joining you at the window with the gun gripped tighter in his hands.

"You don't think so?" You ask, painting on the puppy dog eyes as you look up at him.

"No." Coryo shakes his head slightly, looking through the window to where you both know the katniss patch is, and Lucy Gray is nowhere to be seen.

"...She's been gone for a while." You add for good measure, and he just nods.

"Stay here. Don't come out. I'm gonna get rid of these." He says, picking up the bag of guns and walking out the door.

You huff at the seriousness of his tone and sit back down on the ground, leaning back against the wall. You really wish you had taken a towel from the house or something to attempt at drying your hair or warming your skin, but the only thing you had time to pack in your rush yesterday was those tools and your clothes from home. Most of the backpack was full of that coat Tigris gave you, folded up as small as you could possibly get it at the bottom. It was beautiful, and real, and you could tell it meant something to her so you wouldn't dare use it as a towel. Besides, it probably wouldn't be very effective anyway.

But, the Covey did always come out here to swim, so maybe there was one lying around here somewhere. Under another loose floorboard, or something.

While you're looking, you hear Coriolanus's voice fading as he calls out for Lucy Gray. Clearly, she wasn't at the katniss patch like she said she would be.

Maybe she did run back. She had a solid head start on you guys if she did, and as you scrap your task of looking for a towel to swing the door open, you freeze. Coryo told you to stay, to wait for him to come back. He's got it handled. But does he? Is he just going off to find her and they'll both run off without you?

Screw it. He'll forgive you for not listening later.

You open the door, looking out to see if you can catch a glimpse of his white shirt or blonde buzzcut anywhere, but you can't. "Lucy Gray? If something happened we can talk about it!" You hear his voice fading into the woods.

You take a hatchet from the side of the cabin, and follow the sound of his voice as best as you can, still not wanting to make your presence known.

Until you hear Coriolanus screaming. Pained screaming that makes your stomach turn in fear for his life.

"Coryo!" You break into a run toward the sound, trying to track him down with the axe clutched in your hand.

"Is that poisonous?" He shouts, and while you're absolutely panicking, you're happy to hear that he's not already dead. "Are you trying to kill me?" Much closer now, and you spot him kneeling on the ground a little ways away. "Lucy Gray!" His voice flipped from pained to angry like a switch, but you knew he was already on the brink. You designed it, after all. "I said, are you trying to kill me?!"

"Coryo, Coryo what happened?" You ask, running up and dropping to your knees in front of him as he starts to laugh, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Hey, look at me, what happened?"

He ignores your question, chest heaving as he clutches the scarf in his hands. It was a beautiful, orange silk that was now completely muddy and destroyed from being on the wet, muddy ground.

"Are you hurt?" You ask, dropping the hatchet and reaching for his face instead while he holds the crumpled-up fabric to his face.

"Snake." He chuckles dryly, shaking his head. It turns quickly into his shoulders quaking as he sobbed into the material.

"Hey, okay, okay. Let me see. Let me see it. Where are you bit?" You ask, trying to look him over.

When it's clear you won't get a better answer out of him, you stand up, picking the small tool up again, feeling the shift of the wood as it turns into a weapon in your grip.

"Lucy Gray?" You call out, trying to quell the shakiness of anger into something soothing. "You don't need to hide! Come talk to me. I'm not going to hurt you..."

You stop a few feet away from your friend, looking at the area around you and wishing you could see through the trees. "He didn't mean to scare you, Hun!" You adjust your grip on the wet handle of the weapon sitting heavy in your palm.

"Lucy Gray!" You yell, unable to hide the frustration in your tone as you walk further into the woods. "Did you do it on purpose?!"

A few more steps, and you hear twigs cracking a ways to your right. You quickly look, but see nothing. "Fine, Lucy Gray. If you want to play Hunger Games, we can play Hunger Games..." You settle the hatchet between both hands now, lifting it up to your shoulder as you walk toward the sound. "Don't forget, we survived it too."

"Y/N." You hear Coryo's voice behind you and you turn to look at him. He gives a quick whistle, nodding for you to come back to him as he stands with the gun back in his hands.

You look around quickly again before backing up to meet him halfway. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's breathing heavily. You can see it in the tense rise and fall of his shoulders.

He steps in front of you, nudging you behind him with his elbow as he lifts the gun. A twig snaps a little ways away, and by the time you look past him and catch a glimpse at Lucy Gray's dress between the trees he's already fired the gun.

She yelps, stumbling and falling behind some bushes. You grip the small axe tighter, brushing past him to go to her. To make sure the job is finished.

"Y/N. No." Coryo barks at you, voice stern. "Go back to the cabin, gather our stuff. I'll handle it."

You nod, glancing at him only briefly before following his direction and heading back toward the cabin.

You open the door, sighing with a small smile on your face. "Y/N? What happened? I heard a shot."

You're confronted with Sejanus standing inside now. You just stare at him in your shock. You had completely forgotten about him, Coryo must have as well.

When you don't reply, he speaks again. "I just was looking around to see what direction we should go from here, I came back as soon as I heard it."

Your eyes narrow as you look at him, eyes flitting back and forth while you decide what to say.

"Where's Coryo? And Lucy Gray?"

You glance back over your shoulder out the still open door.

"Y/N..." He mumbles, concern riddling his face. "Did he... did he do something to her?"

The silence that falls in the room is suddenly thick, and heavy, and it changes everything.

"Is she..."

You tighten your hold on the hatchet, shaking any reason out of your head. "No loose ends."

"Loose ends..?" Sejanus asks, taking a step back from you. "I won't- I won't tell anyone, there's no one for me to tell... but you have to understand he's dangerous right now."

"Lucy Gray," You take a step closer, lightly swinging the weapon. "Was plotting against us. You have to understand, he didn't have a choice. So I don't either."

"Y/N, you do." He holds his hands up defensively between the two of you. "You can be better. You don't want to do this, okay? You're just... panicking, and I get that, but let's just talk. Okay? We can sort it out." His voice is shaking now.

You bite into your cheek. "No. You're not one of us. You've made that very clear, Sejanus." You shake your head, raising the axe over your shoulder. "We, are going to have our own house, our own family, and I am going to have my own garden, and I am sick of people trying to stop me." You say through gritted teeth, taking steps closer with every statement.

"Y/N, I won't stop you. We're best friends, I know you don't want-" His panicked pleas are halted as his back hits the wall behind him, and you hear several more shots fire out in the woods. You look back for just a second before snapping your eyes back to your friend.

"Run." You tell him, tossing the hatchet onto the ground a few feet away in a moment of weakness.

"Y/N, I can't leave you out here with him like this. I just-"

"Sejanus, run." You tell him again, taking in the fear and panic on his face.

He nods, and you let him walk past you to the door. He stops, and you both turn to face each other at the same time. As you look at his beat up, sad face, you know you'll never see him again and your eyes start to well up with tears that you quickly blink away.

Before you know it, he's pulling you into a hug. "Thank you," He mumbles as you hesitate to hug him back. "For everything."

"I'm sorry." Is all you can muster up, whispering it as you rest your chin on his shoulder.

He pulls away, patting your shoulders gently. "Your garden will be beautiful." He smiles weakly, voice still shaking as he turns and walks out of your sight. Hopefully, for the last time.

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