#maybe it's too early in the season for this realization lol

[kuromi-hoemie]

i just finished iron blooded orphans and need to lay down for a bit

[seddair]

9-1-1 is great and all (would argue definitely less “great” and more just “good” over the last couple seasons but w/e), but Buck’s storylines ever since the shooting at the end of season 4 have been all over the place and shoddy tbh.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: stop, you’re losing me || part two: in the trees, in the breeze

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ Coriolanus Snow had once a sweet girlfriend that helped him in his darkest days. Until he betrayed her and on the post-Hunger Games celebration, he gave her all the reasons to leave him. Not without causing her a breakdown that makes him regret everything.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ capitol ballerina!reader, soft!Coryo at the beginning, slight canon divergence, manipulation, sex implied, violence, reader has a mental breakdown that ends in tragedy, if you don’t want to read about mental health, beware!!!!!!

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ I had to split this into two parts. Next part will be slowburn, early politician!Coryo realising he married a half rebel woman and many many dramaaaa. Songs for this: Stop, you’re losing me and tírate lol.

♪ ♫ awful Coriolanus Snow playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

__________________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t possible. But Coriolanus could swear that even days after, the smell of fresh paint was still lingering on the air of his penthouse. Maybe because the smell was actually gone since a week ago, but he refused to let go the memory of you and your face with splotches of paint.

On a bright winter morning, you appeared early with buckets of paint. Tigris insisted that none of the Snows could accept the offer, saying it was too much. The walls were full of humidity, paint falling by itself. You could see the sadness on Grandma’am, Coriolanus and his grandmother were very patriotic, the old woman would frequently miss the days before the war, where the penthouse was bright and full of life.

Through a peaceful argument, as Tigris insisted on not taking the buckets of paint, you had already opened one and with a big brush, you splashed a wall from the entrance. The new color was shiny on top of the old layer, and it brought a giant smile to the elder woman.

Coriolanus had so much fun, thinking his girlfriend was the best and spent the day together, listening to the old radio as both of you painted the whole place.

Now, the apartment was still a mess, but the bright olive-green walls made it better.

It had been a thing of destiny that you appeared on the second year of the Academy. You were a loner, always choosing to work on your own for projects. During lunch, you only had two girlfriends, and Coriolanus was able to see that you laughed so hard every time you were with them. He also learned you had a dark humor, making fun of everyone. Like the school staff, Arachne Crane, other classmates, even the president. He grew curious of you. And one random day, after only you and Coriolanus where the only people missing a partner for a science project, a teacher matched you two.

Some months later, you discovered about his financial situation. And Coriolanus had been so scared, thinking you would share the secret and ruin his life. But the next morning, you handed him half of your lunch, knowing he was starving, because at the time, the Academy didn’t offered lunch yet.

The act made Coriolanus Snow realize he could trust you. You met his cousin and grandmother, bringing a giant box full of pastries as a present for them.

Tigris was at the verge of tears and immediately thought you were the one for her little cousin.

Soon it became real. After you turned seventeen, he asked if you wanted to be his girlfriend. Now, time had slowly passed, moving you two into a different season.

“CORYO! IT’S ABOUT TO START! HURRY UP!” Tigris shouted from the kitchen. He sighed, only to end up coughing.

“ALMOST DONE!” He shouted back. His wet hair making him shiver, rapidly wandering across his room to find his body lotion. Eucalyptus. Coriolanus used to hate the smell of eucalyptus. But he started liking the odor since you had a candle made of it in your room. A little after, you gifted him a lotion and perfume of eucalyptus.

Only that Coriolanus couldn’t smell since his nose was congested. He caught a flu, and while he was feeling better, he was still struggling to inhale and breathe properly.

“IF YOU ARE NOT HERE IN THE FOLLOWING FIVE MINUTES, I’M COMING TO GET YOU!” Coriolanus giggled at his cousin threatening him. After putting on a warm sweater and some dressing pants, he came out of his room.

His family was already gathered in the living room, with the tv on. He turned to the dining table, looking at the bouquet of white and red roses, he smiled, hoping you would be happy to see them. Spring was around the corner, the firsts flowers from his grandmother’s top garden had bloomed. At the same time, your first-year anniversary with the young Snow was coming.

The annual gala of arts had existed since the first days of Panem. With music, sculpture, paint, drama and dance performances. It used to be private, then the war happened, and it was suspended. And now, it had been five years since it started to be a show anyone with a tv could see.

Your father was the owner of production establishments of Panem, who happened to have married a famous dancer, also owner of the biggest dance company in the Capitol. No clue how you turned out to be a wonderful sight on stage.

And that’s why Coriolanus was expected to come and see the tv. You were about to perform in the gala.

“Who’s out now?” He asked, sitting beside Tigris.

Grandma’am was crocheting something pink and the whole place was cold as the North Pole.

“A girl from District 1.” Before meeting you, Coriolanus had less than the slight knowledge on dance styles. He just knew it was mostly for women, with exorbitant gowns and shoes that seemed pretty. However, the girl on the screen was dancing with bare feet, along a man.

Some weeks after Coriolanus accepted he had feelings for you, he questioned if it was a good idea to join your mother’s dance company so that you would fall easily for him. It wasn’t necessary because you liked him as soon as he made you smile and laugh.

“Oh Coryo! She’s next!” Tigris said, taking his hand while looking nervously at the tv. Coriolanus always thought Tigris was a worrier most of the time, she always got so into her job, always thinking of what if. Seconds later, you appeared, immediately Grandma’am started to cheer and say out loud how beautiful you looked. Red and black dress with a ruffled tutu, your pink thighs and pointe shoes in a perfectly hidden ribbon. And a red flower with feathers and sequins in your head that had Tigris worried about. She made the headpiece for you. And she feared it would fall from your head. Coriolanus soothed her before coming back to smile like an idiot on the tv.

That was his girlfriend. He had literally pulled one of the most beautiful, if not the most perfect girl of Panem.

The music started and it was a delight for him. He always enjoyed classical music. And the one you danced along was a little faster and vivid than usual, making it impossible to keep any eye in any other place but you and your cocky smile.

Coriolanus knew you had an ego. And he loved to fuel it by saying how gorgeous you were all the time. So, he couldn’t wait for you to arrive on his door. Even when he pleaded you not to come, since he didn’t want to be a contagious asset for you. You hadn’t care, bringing some medicines, chicken broth soup and a lot of mint to help with his congestion the day before.

That’s why he felt even more empowered to keep going and win that prize. It was announced before the winter break and the holidays. He promised himself to win so he could become someone. Enough greater to make him worthy from having you. Because now at eighteen, he aspired to be in your life forever.

So, as you shined on that stage, spinning and standing on pointe, Coriolanus mentally repeated that he loved you. He said it occasionally to you, but most of the time he preferred saying it by holding your hand, kissing you and helping with your homework. Sometimes he wondered what true love was. If he was a capable of giving that to you. He wasn’t able to give you presents, only a tiny bouquet of flowers from his grandma’am. He couldn’t take you out on dates to fancy restaurants, not even offering you to stay for dinner in his place. Your dates where on his old rooftop, your bedroom or patio. Unlike you, who came every Friday after school with food for the family. You constantly gifted little things, like perfumes, a new shirt, anything to make his life easier.

His smile only grows bigger as your performance is about to be over. He admires the way your body is able to be so flexible and consistent. He had also seen the pain behind looking like an elegant feather. Some afternoons when he visited your room, you were tired, soaking your feet in warm water to soothe the ache.

But for now, he treasures the image of your smile as you make some reverence, ending your presentation.

“Oh dear… She was perfect!” Grandma’am said happily, with the round of applause on the tv in the background.

“And the headpiece survived the whole time!” Coriolanus rolled his eyes, smiling at his cousin.

As his family talked about your dress and the investments of your parents, the blonde boy returned to see the flower bouquet.

He really hoped you would love them, that you hadn’t turned bored of only receiving flowers from him.

One day, he would buy you expensive jewelry. He would give you the finest dinners and he would find the most beautiful house around the area for you. Only that way he would feel worthy of having you. Only that way he would find appropriate to call you his in all matters.

For now, he was just hanging there. Doing everything to win that prize. Giving you the least he had and shyly accepting all the things you provided him. That’s how he knew you truly loved him. You cared for his family and him. And Coriolanus swore nobody on earth would care that much for him like you.

Making it the main reason why he knew he had to rush it. He had to give you everything.

Not that you minded.

As you encouraged the family driver; Trevor, to take the route he considered most convenient to make it faster to your boyfriend’s place. You smile.

Oh, how you loved your boy.

You loved greeting him with a kiss on the lips followed by little pecks around. He giggled, probably believing you were so silly, but he would lean to kiss you so deeply again.

“We’re almost there, miss” you nod, looking through the window.

“Thank you, Trevor.”

“Should I wait or send Roger to pick you up late?” Roger was your father’s bodyguard. He was tasked to take care of you for his night shift sometimes. You liked Trevor better; he was a kind man of family. You had met his wife and beautiful daughters, sending them presents for their birthdays.

“Not sure yet. But you can go home and rest. It’s Friday and you need to be with your family, Trevor” he smiled, thinking how sweet you were. He cared a lot for you, almost like another daughter.

“Your mother won’t be happy. She was already irritated that you left the gala so early…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out” with that being said, he parked outside of the building. Trevor handed you some bags, full of food, wood and other things. Then your ballet bag. Ready to leave. The whole day, after leaving the Academy, you were only lounging to finish with the gala to went straight to your man’s arms.

“If anything, you call me. Alright?” You smile nodding at the man.

“Alright.” After a exchange of smiles, you wave him goodbye, and he disappears through the empty street.

It was a cloudy day, Lucky Flickerman said it was going to be a thunderstorm night at the Capitol. Gripping your coat tightly, you enter the building.

…

The door suddenly is open, and Coriolanus hears your voice calling from the entrance.

“Where’s everyone?” Tigris volts out from the living room, hurrying to greet you.

“But of course, we were watching you on the tv. Where else?” You laugh, hugging the young woman.

Then Grandma’am also joins to greet, saying you are gorgeous on stage.

“And where’s my boy?” You asked, wandering around. Coriolanus finally appears from the hallway with a smile. You could tell he had showered. His curls looked softer than ever.

He wants to laugh; you are still on thighs. With some black heels, and he can see a tutu under your coat.

Tigris and the elder woman decide to take the food to serve dinner, leaving you and your boyfriend alone. Both of you hear them saying how thankful they were to have food another week.

You open your arms, and he goes straight to hug you. Your hands cradle his face before standing on your tip toes to kiss him.

“How are you feeling?” He seemed to look and feel better. Apparently, the medicines worked.

“A lot better…”

“I missed you.” He also did. If his health hadn’t been compromised, he would’ve attended the gala with you.

“Me too. But you should have stayed home.” It had been a rough week at the Academy, the rehearsals for the gala, acting as a nurse for your sick boyfriend.

“We always spend Fridays together, silly.” He doesn’t deserve you.

“You were beautiful today. Although… you’re always perfect.” You blush, kissing his cheek before following him inside his penthouse.

The smell of mashed potatoes, the piece of ham you brought, and bread fill the place. It had been a little while since Coriolanus could only smell the boiled cabbage and hear his stomach painfully churning.

When you enter the room, you see the big bouquet of roses. You turn to see Coriolanus in disbelief, smiling.

“I hope you like them” the jar is old, but it looks amazing with the perfectly accommodated flowers. Your fingers gently grasp the soft petals. You are so in love with him.

“I will never get tired of this. I love them!” You turn around and Coriolanus sees your face full of adoration. You literally jump to kiss him. Always being received by the passionate yet slow and delicate of his kisses. One hand gently on your neck while the other rested on your cheek. Some strands of his blonde curls brushing against your forehead as your heels make it slightly even when it comes to height.

“Look at them. My future president of Panem and his First Lady.” Tigris giggles at her grandmother, but smiles deeply, happy to see her little cousin in love. And extremely thankful that he found a warm and generous woman like you to have in his life. Because in her head, Coriolanus deserved better.

“Let’s just pray that they graduate for now, Grandma’am.” She adds grabbing the old porcelain plates they have to serve the food.

And it’s a thunder what startles you, squirming away from your boyfriend. He laughs, holding you closer again after seeing you got scared.

“It’s raining!” Tigris announces from the kitchen.

“Guess you’ll have to stay the night.” His cheeky smile makes you gently push him. Your mother was going to be mad. But Tigris would intervene and say it was okay.

It wasn’t the first time you stayed though.

…

There are at least six candles around the room. The temperature decreased significantly after dinner. The water you used to clean the dishes was almost freezing. And Coriolanus wanted to die out of embarrassment when you started heating water on the fireplace to take a shower.

You had said it was nothing and that you don’t mind. But still, he felt so wrong.

Now, he was seating against the head of his bed. Watching how you curated your swollen feet. You pinched some blisters with a needle that had carefully been burned with a match. And now, it was time to put some cream and finally wrap the area with bandages.

“Does it hurt a lot?” He asked.

“Not much. I’m used to it now” you replied without looking at him. Still concentrated on your feet.

“I’m sorry about the water.” You frown, finally turning to see him.

“Why do you keep apologizing?” He shrugs, slightly irritated.

“Because I wish I could give you more and I can’t.” he didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he does. Your lips form a line, before crawling until you mere kneeling bedside him on the bed.

“I hate to see you doing things you don’t have the necessity to do so. I hate not being able to treat you like my girlfriend and more like friend. I want to give you the world and I can’t.”

“Coriolanus… Look at me.” You take his hand, and with the other, you are tracing invisible line on his chin with your thumb. He looks at you, eyes slightly watered, making your heart swell for him.

“Life could’ve been so different, I could’ve been in your position, and you in mine.” He closes his eyes, thinking about his terrible luck.

“You charmed me before I knew everything about you. You know it, right?” He nods, tilting his head just to feel more of your touch. In response, you are again grabbing his cheeks.

“You have to let me help you now. That’s what couples do. They help each other. One day you’ll be able to give me anything you want. But for now, I will give you anything just to not see you struggling. Nor your family” your forehead is brushing his, and he can only attempt to nod as you speak.

“And remember, my love. You already make me happy. I’m already proud of you.” He doesn’t cry, but he’s at the verge of. He just hides his face on your neck. And there’s a wet spot on your skin, but you don’t say anything, you just tighten your embrace of him, smiling as you kiss his hair.

“I love you.” He says and it surprises you. While you know he loves you, you are aware that he’s not used to say it very often.

“I love you too, Coryo.”

He promises himself that he will do everything in his will to chase power. To change his faith and give you what you deserve.

The thunderstorm was powerful enough to scare you once in a while. As you were playing cards with Coriolanus, he took your hand every time you got startled. Tigris said goodnight and suggested to keep the door unlocked. Making you blush and Coriolanus too.

“I’m bored.” You said, laying on your side, facing your boyfriend. He dropped his joint of card too, hand landing on your hip, caressing the skin.

“What do you want to do?” You notice the way he’s touching you. It’s slightly inappropriate and it makes you grin.

“You are already suggesting something” his eyes widened, embarrassment flooding him.

“I’m sorry” you chuckle, noticing how shy and insecure he could be.

“Don’t you want to?” It’s your next move what almost makes him choke. You move forward, taking a sit on his lap.

“Of course I want to. Just not here.” You roll your eyes, hands massaging his shoulders, making him groan in delight. Your cream nightgown had lifted, showing him your bare legs. The long sleeve felt so soft against his hands.

“As long as you’re with me, I don’t mind where we’re doing it.” He’s unsure, but he can feel himself getting hard. Finally, after months of having only the company of his hand, he could claim you. He doesn’t love that it’s going to happen in his old bed, in his messed-up room. But you look so gorgeous with bare light from the candles. Now half naked showing him for the first time your naked body.

“Are you sure?” He asks one last time, feeling a string of saliva connected between your lips and his. It’s dirty, messy and extremely erotic to be the first time.

“Believe me, nothing wakes up Tigris and Grandma’am. We’re safe…”

“Alright. I trust you, Coryo.”

“Good. Now get on your back and spread those legs for me.” His possessive side would always surprise you. But you enjoyed it. And now, as the thunderstorm keeps going you let his possessive side dominate you.

“God, I love you.” You say as he makes you believe the rain falling outside were actually stars.

…

“Look at the tragic lovers, already in pose for a war memorial portrait”. You roll your eyes at Arachne. You hear Felix, Festus and even Clemmie laughing along other classmates. Coriolanus ignores her, taking your hand, reassuring you. The building was getting crowded. The Reaping was around the corner, but you were only praying for your boyfriend. Hoping to leave the place with the prize on his hands.

“Careful, Arachne. One day they might have a portrait in the parliament building” Clemensia says giggling.

“How? Because Coriolanus would be Panem’s president and y/n as First Lady? Allow me to laugh…” you can listen to her annoying voice. Something you always wished was a good friendship with your classmates. But it was difficult. Arachne was very competitive and judgmental; Festus was tedious along Felix. Persephone was extremely quiet; Livia was too naïve. Only Clemensia and Sejanus seemed to be genuine with you.

“Who knows?” Sejanus spoke from the other side of rows, walking to seat beside Arachne and your boyfriend. You smiled at him, and he reciprocated it. Coriolanus was too lost on his thoughts to pay attention to the little argument. Until Sejanus tilted his head to whisper something to him.

“There is no prize anymore.” The blonde turns to look at him in confusion. But the ceremony has officially started. He feels you taking his hand in disguise. And it’s the only reason why he feels less nervous.

Until Dean Highbottom reveals the sudden changes, which makes your heart pound faster. And without a warning, the listing of tributes begins. You look away when you see the little girl named Wovey being focused on camera, the sadness and uneasy churn in your stomach hitting you by the end of District 11 tributes.

And finally, the songbird is paired with Coriolanus.

He sees the way you frown, cringed by her singing. Even when she had a wonderful voice, it was unexpected and certainly odd for some. Then, he sees you cover your mouth in disbelief when she curses on the microphone. Coriolanus can’t tell, but he assumes it’s gonna be a little difficult to deal with that girl. Seeing zero chances to win.

Then he realised the tributes were mentioned. The Reaping had finished.

It’s over. Everyone has a tribute except for you. Dean Highbottom resumes the listing walking away, making you turn to see him, raising your hand immediately. Ready to ask questions.

“Put your hand down, Miss y/l/n. It’s not a mistake the order of the listing” you hear Dr. Gaul saying firmly. When you turn around, she’s there, offering a cold yet deep look with her unmatched eye irises.

Slowly, your hand goes down, laying on your lap, slightly shaking.

“Your parents have been generous enough to become official sponsors of the games.” Voices echo across the room, gossiping about the news. Even for you, this was a surprise.

Coriolanus looks at you but doesn’t say anything. He just wondered how much this would make your family richer.

“The mentors have to make their tributes a spectacle. But your task is to make all of the 10th Hunger Games a massive spectacle. Propaganda, production and strategy…” your face goes pale. But you dare to question it.

“Is this some type of punishment?” Gaul laughs, offering a genuine smile later, her hands together, like she was comfortable on her spot.

“Consider this your admission test. You won’t be fighting for the prize, but this would give you enough honors to automatically join the best branches of the Capitol’s University.” Quietly, you nod under the curious look of your classmates. The look of Arachne full of envy, Clemensia confused, Sejanus doubting. And your dear Coriolanus, he was happy to be honest. You could easily make his tribute look presentable so he could win. He would get the prize, get into university, become a political figure if not president and finally give you anything he couldn’t before.

But for now, the ceremony is over. You say goodbye to your friends, and you walk with Coriolanus, he takes your hand and together leave the place.

…

Your vision looks lost, but seemingly focused on the cracked floor. Coriolanus had been looking at you, he crossed his arms, but still nothing. Your heels were scattered, but you looked very comfortable at the edge of his bed.

“What’s on your mind, sweets?” You feel the cushions sinking beside you, his palm goes to rub your back, taking you back to reality.

“I don’t want the weight of all those upcoming deaths on me. On making it an entertainment…” rarely you spoke about the games or politics with your boyfriend. Mostly it was about university, future plans, music, and random pieces of your lives.

“It won’t be your fault, y/n. This will prove to everyone in the Capitol how worthy you are” he tries to soothe you.

“Still. While I do believe we deserve peace and to gain the respect the First Rebellion took from us, I do believe that putting some children to kill each other in the arena each year isn’t going to make a change” he sighed.

“That little girl…” he had seen the kid. But he grew indifferent to that, he was only focused on winning, and he was going to try to psyche you into the same.

“What terrifies you so much?” He asks, finally making you look at him in the eye.

“I have a bad feeling, Coryo. Like everything is gonna go down bad” you admit. You couldn’t tell if it was the change, your new task or Lucy Gray Baird. You were avoiding being judgmental, but as soon as you saw what she did with that snake, your initial thought was that she was a problem.

“None of that. You are making this Hunger Games unforgettable; I’m winning the prize. And that’s it, we will go to university together and make all those things we’ve talked about. That’s all that matters, y/n. Right?” It’s inevitable, you know it’s some sort of manipulation.

He does it with good intentions, but you don’t like it.

“I will give my best to make this whole thing memorable. I will try to make your songbird win. But none of this will wash away the guilt.”

Before the moment can get uncomfortable, Tigris enters the room. She smiles before standing against the little desk Coriolanus had.

“How was it? Tell me everything” she’s anxious to know everything, but for sure knows Coriolanus didn’t get the prize.

“We’ll give you the details in the table. But for now, I’m mentoring the tribute from District 12. y/n is in charge of the game's propaganda” her blonde brows furrow.

“The girl who singed?” Both of you nod. She sighs, crossing her arms.

“This isn’t what was supposed to happen…” Tigris adds. Again, you let yourself fall against the mattress, covering your face.

“Making the games’ an spectacle. What were they thinking?” Coriolanus exchanged looks with Tigris. She understood his look. Mentally telling him to give you some female soothing advice. She decided then to take seat too. You end up sandwiched between them.

It’s her hand brushing some hairs away your neck and face. Tigris had always treated you like family. And that’s why you felt more guilty. Because you wanted Coriolanus to win so badly, to help his family but you also thought about the tributes. About making their deaths some type of entertainment for everyone to watch.

“Sounds unfair. A lot of things from the Capitol are wrong.” You nod. When you see them, you are received by the cousins giving you soothing looks.

“I just want this to be over…”

“It’ll pass. Everything will go great. You’re smart and very talented. And we’ll help you in everything we can” you have to give her a little hug.

“And I’ll help my boy too. That girl is going to be a problem” Coriolanus rolls his eyes, thinking the same as you.

“See? Let’s just be optimistic.” Tigris stands up excitedly, later looking for something on her dress pocket.

“Tigris. I’m making dinner. Do not boil any more cabbage” you giggle, and Coriolanus has to smile, admitting to himself that just by seeing you happy he felt better.

“No. You don’t have to.”

“Please. Just let me go for some groceries.” She nods shyly. Then she pulls out some little bag from the pocket.

“Fine. But you are taking these from now on…” she throws the bag and dissapears. When you look inside the bag, you take out a box of pills. Immediately your cheeks turn red.

“Oh my god” you hand the box to the boy.

“Oh…” they’re birth control pills.

Soon both of you start laughing before you have to give him a kiss. Probably it was for the best because Coriolanus Snow never pulled out. And luckily you weren’t pregnant yet.

“I’ll get the groceries from Trevor” he nods, watching you walk away.

You briefly stop after seeing the picture on a frame. Of Coriolanus as a baby and his mother carrying him. Beside that picture, there’s one you hadn’t seen before. It’s you, from the gala of last year. You wore a red dress with pink ribbons and long gloves that matched the gown. You are smiling, not at the camera.

You were smiling at Coriolanus, who had insisted the photographer to take a picture of only you.

The feeling of happiness, bliss and peace hit you, making it impossible to leave your boyfriend’s room without a giant smile.

…

Speaking out loud had never been your thing. You sucked for speeches, debates. Well, only to prepare for them. Your hands would shake, and your face would turn red. But at the moment to step into the highlight, you were wonderful.

And it was noticeable.

“Here I am with the lovely y/n y/l/n, who’s in charge of directing the course of this games this year. Tell me y/n, was your idea to bring the tributes to the zoo?”

“No. To be honest, my directing journey officially starts as soon as the tributes are here. For now, I’m not doing anything… Yet.” Lucky Flickerman laughs.

“Well… I believe this is going to be a heated road. Don’t you think so? OH-, forget about her opinion, no one cares. THE TRIBUTES ARE HERE!” You turn behind to look. The vehicle opened its doors and the tributes fell. But you have to move away from the cameras after seeing a red uniform of the Academy. What the hell was Coriolanus doing there?

He doesn’t notice you yet. But you are able to see him talking with the girl. You see Lucy Gray Baird in person for the first time. She’s very pretty, short as you and her dress is very pretty. That’s not the problem though. You don’t like the way Coriolanus leans to whisper to her something, then he pulls the rose on his uniform and pins it behind her ear. Hearing Lucky Flickerman calling them, the couple holds hands, and they start answering questions.

It’s just for the views. It’s just to win that damn prize. Relax… You can trust him.

When Lucy Gray starts talking with a girl, Coriolanus spots you. You can’t decipher his look, but he knows for sure you aren’t pleased. Your hands making fists against the fabric on your wide dressing pants.

As soon as the cameras are gone, you go on a straight line towards him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He drops the songbird’s hand, looking seriously taken aback.

“I told you I was meeting my tribute” Lucy Gray looks intrigued by your sudden appearance. Your moles, orange makeup, heavy golden earrings and perfectly painted lips. You’re perfect.

“This is embarrassing. What are my parents going to think? This could get you into trouble, Coriolanus” he sighs. Takes your hand through the giant cage but you whisk away, looking very angry.

“I’m sorry. This is just… too much.” He will talk to you later, he knows you’re head is spinning. Probably the rose and taking the songbird’s hand wasn’t a good idea.

“This is Lucy Gray…” he introduces the girl. And you finally acknowledge her. You give her a fake smile, just trying to look calm and be polite. She only stares.

“Nice to meet you. I’m sorry this is the way were meeting” she looks proud, like the fact that you look gorgeous, and she had just been thrown into an animal cage wasn’t humbling for her.

“Aren’t you in charge of making this a good show? Like putting us here like we were some kind of animals?” She must hate the Capitol. And it pisses you off the way she’s talking to you. A hostile tone in disguise.

“I’m only working for this to get more views and get into Univeristy. Where etiquette and manners are taught with much emphasis. But I’m not the one doing the rules” you respond colder, giving a little hint that Lucy Gray needed to be refined. After that, you proceed to ignore her again.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to get your back with Highbottom if anything happens” you whisper to the blonde, and before he can say anything you leave. You exchange some words with Flickerman and the camera production before leaving with them.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Lucy Gray asks. Coriolanus turns to see her.

“That’s my girlfriend.” His confirmation slightly surprised the girl. You seemed very… Capitol. Like the perfect match for him.

“She’s very pretty.” He wants to chuckle, but he only nods. In his mind, he wasn’t sure if Lucy gray meant it or if she was just trying to be sarcastic. Either way he doesn’t care much.

You’re perfect.

…

In your room, only the gentle morning breeze can be heard. You look at the balcony, looking at the mountains that surrounded the Capitol. It was summer, soon after fall began, the white would cover the city.

There’s a knock on your door and when you turn to see who it is, there is your mother.

“How did Coriolanus end up with the tributes?” You look away, already feeling ashamed.

“I don’t know, mother. He was supposed to meet the tribute at the train station. I don’t know how he ended up there…”

“It was a… messy entrance. But he seemed to have charmed the cameras on his favor. Don’t you think so?” Your mother liked your boyfriend, but sometimes she thought he had some secrets hidden, and that made you set some alarms. Probably because only, you knew about his financial problems.

“As it was expected. How do you think I felt when everyone knew he is my boyfriend? It was embarrassing.” She giggles, stepping inside of your room. Grabbing your perfectly ironed Academy uniform and accommodating the sleeves.

“I didn’t like the way he… forced that interaction with the girl.” You admit in a quiet tone.

“They were holding hands. He tucked his rose on her ear.” Your blood boils at the memory, making you groan in discontent.

“Yes.” You confirm to her.

“You’re jealous. And you shouldn’t be… Coriolanus loves you. Why would he even turn to look down at a dirty and disheveled girl from District 12? When he has you, a gorgeous and already successful young woman. Who’s capitol to his luck.” You smile. But the uncomfortable omen would have you spinning until the games were over.

“You can’t let any feelings get in the way of your task, my dear.” Says your father appearing at the door. You just stare at him.

“Let the boy play along the untidy girl for now. It will help to raise the views and create dubiety. You will complete your duty and that will make you memorable. As a daughter of mine and your mother we want you to exceed our accomplishments, this would be the first step. As soon as you make it, all the doors will be open for you. And the boy will be eating from the palm of your hand.” You know that’s not how it works, but he is right. As much as you wanted your boyfriend to win the games. You had to think on your own for the first time.

“You’re right.” Your dad smiles, only entering the room to leave a kiss on your head. Silently telling you how proud he is of you.

“Good. Now put some makeup and the uniform.” You nod at your mom, replying at her smile but feeling slightly empty on the inside.

…

Once again you have zoned out.

Coriolanus sees the way you are lost in your thoughts. As Dean Highbottom and Dr. Gaul are slightly debating after he was almost penalized for the zoo events, the gossip between the students doesn’t flush away easily.

You were quiet since that day. Same kisses, same smile, and same giggles. But the sudden lack of communication and sex was worrying Coriolanus.

Then Arachne died. Clemensia hadn’t been on class for some days. You weren’t around to see, but the news made you feel weird. Coriolanus was getting obsessed with the songbird, but that didn’t mean he was leaving aside… yet.

He had heard and seen how most of the student's made fun of you and your task for the Hunger Games. Saying that you had been put on that position for your parents. Very much like what everyone thought of Sejanus Plinth on daily basis. It made you feel anxious, that guilt only increasing. And unfortunately, Coriolanus hadn’t been around to soothe those fears.

“Are you sure you’re okay, y/n?” He asks once for all. You seem to hear him, but before you can answer him. Gaul had made everyone go quiet.

“Has a decision been made, Miss. y/l/n?” You raise your head, looking at the woman and slowly you nod, standing up.

“A decision has been made with the council of the games and the production team. The mentors and their tributes have to make a strategy, it’s obligatory. The mentors have to make detailed research on the district of their tribute. In two days, the research must be submitted so the tributes can be guaranteed an interview before the games. Only that way, the sponsors will come and by the end of the games, the mentors will be honored in the post-games' celebration.” The more you talked, the more the students seemed to hate you. Coriolanus can only think that you’re doing it because of rage, and he isn’t unsure if he likes it or not.

Dr. Gaul wants to laugh, believing you had shut everyone’s mouth. She can see a female enraged lover can react when cards are played against her. And she is savoring the way her Hunger Games are making everyone fight for their own good, not only the tributes.

When class is over, you don’t wait for Coriolanus. You just start grabbing your stuff and decide to leave.

He has to hurry so he can follow your pace. He calls your name once, but until his hand gently grabs your forearm, you stop.

“What is going on?” He asks, ignoring that both of you are in the middle of a hallway.

“About what?” There’s a lot to say, but you just can’t seem to be able to respond.

He sighs, and looking around, he drags you to an empty room. Open to public, but perfect for some minutes of privacy.

“You can talk to me…”

“I know… It’s just…” he inspects your face, looking at any details to try to understand you.

“Just what, sweets?”

“There’s too much going on at the same time. I’m just stressed out. I’m sorry for being distant, Coryo” you refuse to admit you’re jealous, that you are following your father’s advice, that you are sick of everything.

“It’ll be over in three more days or so. Then you know what departs for us…” you nod as he leans to close the distance, your foreheads touching. It was Coriolanus silent way of saying I love you and I’m here. So you take the moment to treasure it.

“Just one thing, Coryo…”

“Yes, dear?” He asks on your lips.

“If things get tricky… Are you going to fight for me if needed?” He smiles, your lips trembling against his chin.

“I would walk the whole territory of Panem just to get you, y/n” and with that, he kisses you so hard that it makes you remember why you choose him.

And why you would always choose him.

…

It’s late in the night and you opted to stay for late rehearsals. Your nails are a mess as you had anxiously been biting them. You see a burgundy spot on the right side of your pointe shoe. Your feet are bleeding. But that doesn’t compare to the waves of chills you had every day.

“AGAIN!” Your instructor yells. You are the opening act for the celebration. Every district would have a dance and some mentors would have an honorific mention. However, yours was a delicate piece of ballet. The music was beautiful, but it made you feel little, very vulnerable.

You try every single time, but your instructor kept saying that you needed to look sadder by the end.

“Miss y/n?…” your mother’s assistant came to the door of the studio, making you stop and your instructor to pause the music.

“Your mother has informed to me that there was a rebel bombing on the games’ arena earlier. The tributes were there with their mentors.” Your heart stops, remembering Coriolanus and his own task of taking the songbird there.

“Your partner, Mr. Snow… he was injured…”

Half an hour later, you’re entering the hospital. The wide room is empty. At the end of the bed’s row, you see Tigris and Sejanus. The young woman being the first to notice you.

“Y/N!” She hurries to hug you and offer her jacket since it was slightly cold. And you were once again in your ballet attire, pointe shoes still on.

“It’s okay. But… How is him?”

“Stable. Just his back was compromised” Sejanus reveals, making you smile sadly. Coriolanus is sleeping. His forehead looks sweaty, and you can only attempt to brush some of his curls.

“They said it was a rebel attack. The president’s son was heavily injured” you sigh.

“Felix?” Sejanus nods at you.

“This is where I side with the Capitol.”

“Exactly. This isn’t the solution” neither of you say out loud. But Sejanus was a rebel sympathizer, Tigris was only against the capitol but not with the rebels. And you were a neutral.

“I just hope this doesn’t come with long term injuries…” you finally add. Under the curious look of Tigris, she feels bad for you. Although she offered her help, there wasn’t much she could do. Only to design the attires for the upcoming celebration. But other than that, she could feel the stress on you.

Only worsening when Coriolanus woke up.

“Is Lucy Gray fine?” You act like it didn’t hurt you. And both Tigris and Sejanus pretend they didn’t see your sad face.

“She’s fine.”

“How do you feel?” You ask, and Coriolanus finally sees you.

“My shoulder and back hurt” the tv ends up disconcerting everyone. When you turn there is a video of you being played with the logo of the Capitol behind you. Coriolanus wants to smile, but he’s too unsure of what’s happening to say you looked adorable in a tulle skirt.

[Citizens of Panem, welcome back. We are less than 24 hours away from the start of the 10th Hunger Games. To make the wait less painful, we are about to explore about this year’s tributes. We’ll get to know them in this section. For the first time, we are about to see an exclusive series of interviews with our lovely host; Lucky Flickerman. Now, it’s turn of of the final district, which is District 12. Do not forget that anyone can be a sponsor. Enjoy the show!]

You ignore the looks. You weren’t proud of yourself for filming that type of promos. But that is quickly forgotten after Lucy Gray was introduced and she started singing again. You have to roll your eyes. You have to bite your tongue after seeing the way Coriolanus literally jumped out of the bed to see the songbird closely.

He seemed hypnotized by her. And without even processing there are tears forming on your eyes.

The end is coming. The end is coming. Get ready…

You try to ignore your head. But it’s like a prolonged free fall. Since the moment of the Reaping Ceremony, you knew it.

That bad omen was something you should’ve payed more attention to.

Now you let some tears fall as you see it. Tigris is also crying, and you have to admit how wonderful Lucy Gray Baird is. But it leads you to question.

How could Coriolanus just be… losing you?

When you look down at your feet, your brain can pay attention to the damage, immediately releasing a lot of pain.

Your pointe shoes are almost soaked in blood. You quickly seat in one of the bed, hurrying to untie it. Your heart beats faster. With the sudden increase of negativity, you feel panicked.

And it scares you, because you feel like you don’t have enough control.

Sejanus is the first one to look away.

“Oh my god, y/n” he knees in front of you. Looking at the mess. Now that the pointe shoes are gone, the damage is more than visible.

Tigris follows and finally Coriolanus remembers you. He seats beside you, frowning in disgust as he sees the pointe shoes covered in dry blood. Then your feet, you try to stop the bleeding, cleaning it, sobbing in silent.

You feel his hand on your shoulder. But you ignore him. You feel hurt by everyone. Your parents, the Capitol, and Coriolanus especially.

You squirm away from him.

“I’m just trying to soothe you.” Coriolanus admits in shock after seeing your reaction.

“I can handle it on my own” you spit out crying quietly, cleaning the tears with a hand, while the other holds some gazes against the wounded skin.

“We’ll bring a nurse” Tigris says, grabbing Sejanus and walking out of the room.

For the first time, Coriolanus knows something is going wrong. He officially sees how things are getting tricky.

Only you would know that your tears were for your boyfriend rather than the blood soaking your feet.

He was losing you. And later that night, he sealed the faith of your love for him after visiting Lucy Gray in the zoo one last time.

…

When the 10th Hunger Games started, you were making sudden apparitions at the camera. Coriolanus was focused on Lucy Gray moving through the arena. And you were too invested on following all the procedures. After some hours, a lot of people had left. Coriolanus was growing tired. He started eyeing you out, he saw your lilac makeup that matched your sweater. He saw the way your hips and waist looked in a pencil skirt.

After some failed attempts to make you look at him, he made eye contact. And minutes later, both of you ended up having a quick fuck in the restroom. Somehow it had worked as a makeup, he made you smile before you had to leave again. He kissed you and he promised to himself that no more mistakes were allowed. He would win the games with Lucy Gray and then… only eyes for you.

Things took a turn after Sejanus meant to give a proper goodbye to his tribute and old friend.

Coriolanus had killed a tribute. You are still unable to comprehend how you feel about it. He had come to your house during the night, red eyes and disheveled uniform. You wrapped your arms around him, shushing him to not disturb your parents.

He told you everything as you prepared the tub for him. He cried on your shoulder and stayed there for hours.

“You are good, Coriolanus. You are a good man. This doesn’t make you a monster…” you had said.

“What about the power I felt?…” you knew that was a warning sign.

“In the Hunger Games’ arena anything feels like power, my love” it was supposed to be enough to make him avoid thinking on power and death at the same time.

And now, adding the fact that he seemed to have built a connection with the songbird, you were everything but calm.

Nonetheless, that night you hold him protectively. You assure him everything would be fine.

“I would be lost without you” Coriolanus says, his nose pressed against your chest.

“I help the people I love, Coryo. That’s how will always be…” he reminds himself, no more errors. He holds tighter at you, knowing he had already messed up his promise one night ago.

…

You run, ignoring the pain of your wounded feet. The nurse said to take it easy if you wanted to dance after the games.

But you can’t help it. Coriolanus had won. While you ignored Lucy Gray Baird as the victor, you acknowledged your boyfriend as it. You run faster than Tigris, so you get to hug him before kissing him. He replies immediately. Holding your waist and smiling like an idiot. Everyone was looking and cheering around but neither of you cared. He deepened the kiss, feeling peace, he knew he had won. He had a good future secured. Along you.

“You did it, my love” you say in his lips, giggling. He also smiles, taking your hand before going to find Tigris who stayed back.

“You also did it.” He speaks. Making you realize it’s over.

And for the rest of the day, you are happy. You leave early because of the celebration.

You really want to stay with Coriolanus. But he was called away. Tigris stays with you the whole day. She calls Grandma’am as soon as you both enter the theater where the celebration was being held.

Both of you give the elder woman all details. She really cries and says she can’t wait to see his boy coming home that night. She wishes you good luck and the call is over.

“Okay. Let’s get over with this so we can celebrate with some posca tonight.” You laugh, taking a seat on the vanity.

“Coryo hates posca, Tigris.” She also laughs.

“If he can pretend to like it for formal events, he can pretend at home for his win and yours.” Between laughs and jokes, she starts to help you with makeup and hair.

An hour later, you start receiving good luck flowers and notice of being on the stage in fifteen minutes.

“You look perfect, y/n” she says smiling, making you turn around to see the pastel tutu and flower corset of the attire.

“I can’t breathe but this will make my shoulders look so aligned…” you thank her and after good luck wishes and a hug, she excuses herself to go to her seat.

Now alone, you make sure the makeup is perfect. Until you see Coriolanus in the door frame. He enters and closes the door. He looks so lost and sad, which worries you.

“I cheated on the games” you frown, hurrying to get to him. He sits on the couch, head between his legs, notifying to you how serious the issue is.

“What did you do?” He explains how he cheated. He kept it secret. He didn’t tell you.

“Is there a punishment or penalty?” He nods, looking at you now.

“Exile. Serve as a peacekeeper for twenty years” you look shocked. Your heart stops and you lean to grab his shoulders.

“I’ll go with you. University can wait. I’ll find a job where you’re sent to. And work with my mother at the same time. We’ll send money to Tigris and Grandma’am and-“

“No, y/n. I can’t let you do this.” You start to feel panicked again. You need to hear a solution.

“So what? You’re just leaving like that?” He remains quiet.

“You said you would fight for me.” He thinks about possibilities. He could marry you as soon as training was over. You two could find a little house, live there and send money to his family like you said. You already said you were willing to leave the Capitol for him.

“Oh, Coryo. Why did you had to do this?” He sighs frustrated.

“To win. For my family. For you… to give you all I promised.” You are at the verge of crying. And he has to be honest. If you were going to leave everything for him. He would be honest.

“I kissed her.”

You can only hear your heartbeat after that.

You don’t say anything for some seconds. His hands are sweating.

Something stronger than silence fills the room. You slap him.

Your hand burns afterwards. But the damage is done.

“Get. Out.” You spit out, quietly, yet extremely filled with poison.

He’s too shocked to say something back.

You are mentally collapsing. Finally feeling betrayed and mocked by him.

“You won’t get out? I will…” it’s bad when you start hearing a pitch in your ears. You know it’s not a good sign. But you’re so traumatized, that you lean closer to him.

“You’re a mistake… Such a big lie.” The last memory he sees before you have disappeared is the layers of tulle of your tutu, your perfume of jasmine and the sound of your distant sobs.

If he had lost you. His last memory of you would be dancing.

He stares from the backstage. And he wonders if destiny wanted you to dance such a melancholic song. Because he can literally see your sadness. You look so fragile that he curses himself. Maybe if he had mentored another district. Or maybe if he just had decided to shut up and avoid mentioning the kiss to you.

Did he ever love you? Why wasn’t enough?

However, that’s not enough suffering. While your head was spinning with many thoughts, the rest of your body was pleading you to stop. But you keep dancing. You feel the music and you let yourself to give the most emotional presentation of the history of Panem.

You don’t realize you have captured the same effect as Lucy Gray Baird singing. There are people crying. Throwing flowers at you. You don’t see it; you’re starting to see everything blurred.

As you leave the stage, people congratulate you. Coriolanus sees you look pale, darkened lips. You stop hearing, only the annoying pitch. Every step feels heavier than the last one. The sudden nausea makes you give up.

Coriolanus sees how you faint. Your body collapsing to the floor.

“Get a doctor… GET A DOCTOR, PLEASE!” He yells at a girl who was also in a tutu. She nods in shock, running. Some people gather, but only Coriolanus is there holding your unconscious body.

…

“I’m so sorry. This isn’t what I wanted. I wished so many things for us.” Coriolanus is crying. Holding your hand as you are asleep on a hospital bed. Your diagnosis said you suffered a collapse due to stress and traumatic experience. He knew it was caused by him. But he lies to your mother, saying it must’ve been for the pressure of the games and the death of Arachne Crane.

“I’m not a good man. And you deserve someone better than me…” he can now see the purple under your lashes, eye bags and cracked lips.

“But I’m coming back for you.”

After memorizing your image sleeping and kissing your forehead, he quietly leaves.

Your mother enters his line of vision.

“Coriolanus. Are you coming tomorrow? She’ll likely be awake” he swallows the rest of his tears and shakes his head.

“Unfortunately. I have peacekeeper duty away from the Capitol, required for me to get into university.”

“Oh no. Y/n knows, right?” He nods.

“But don’t worry, I’ll send her letters every week” it’s a promise. One he would make no matter what.

His hopes increase by the time he’s able to serve in District 12. Knowing he could give some closure to his situation with Lucy Gray but sickening because he’s also going there to soothe his urges to see his songbird again.

As for you. You just hope and pray your sole image to haunt Coriolanus Snow for the rest of his life. Because the moment you walked out of that hospital, you would do everything to get rid of him and his memory. Promising to make his mere existence the most insignificant matter. Even when you knew your heart would never beat again the same way it did for him.

______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @edb954 @poppyflower-22 @dear-bunnyboo @bryandechartisasmolbean @taylordaughter @coryoskywalker @maryvibess @reader-bookling123 @astarborntowrite @ewwwitsel @spring-goddess1 @real-lana-del-rey @electraphyng @athanasia-day @folklorelogy

[kedsandtubesocks]

game changer

MLB pitcher!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: back from your first semester of grad school your parents lovingly drag you out to celebrate with an old family friend - but what unfolds there (and after) cracks you wide open

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, dad’s friend!Joel, unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but is a drinking aged adult & Joel is in his early 50’s), light use of gendered language, yearning & flirting, some light angst, brief alcohol consumption, masturbation (f), smutty thoughts, heavy makeout, spicy themes, allusions to smut (p in v), Joel’s dirty talk, one use of “good girl,” one light ass smack, reserved but soft!Joel, start of secret relationship, lots of baseball talk

word count: 9.1k (I’m sorry)

a/n: i know, i know another non-typical AU for Joel but I blame my sports girlie heart & baseball season so here we are lol big thank you to @swiftispunk for always putting up with my sports ramblings LMAO im so sorry Han ily, special thanks to @burntheedges @undercoverpena @tightjeansjavi @msjarvis because this truly wouldn’t be here without y’all - you don’t know how much you babes mean to me & I can’t thank y’all enough…now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You barely have any solid memories of Joel Miller, even if he was your dad’s oldest friend. And if you were being honest, you remember his brother Tommy more who smiled so warmly and seemed to radiate warmth.

Now you stand before Joel Miller’s face on the side of the Globe Life field along with the rest of the Texas Rangers professional baseball team.

It’s a cool evening in Arlington. Everyone seems to bask in the weather that feels perfect for a night of baseball.

Home from your first grad school semester, you didn’t think you’d be going to a game. But your parents explained how good the tickets were, and that even if you didn’t care about the game, you could just enjoy the stadium. So with the promise of free food and a nice night out, you were sold.

Now you’re here.

“Yesterday Joel said to head to the side entrance, that’s where we can check in.” Your dad eagerly explains and stunned you simply follow along like a confused duckling.

The sea of jerseys sweeps you into a sports wave until you’re deposited in a new space. Your jaw almost drops.

The VIP suites sit at the very side edge of the field, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.

The seats are incredible. Everything feels deluxe but comfortable. Someone calls out to your mom, and soon enough the rest of the Miller family approaches.

Tommy’s married now and his wife Maria is lovely, so is their baby. Joel’s daughters, Sarah and Ellie, are older. Time sucker punches you in the gut seeing how much time has passed, but you warmly greet everyone. You realize how long it really has been since you saw any of them.

You greet everyone warmly and appreciate all their surprised welcome seeing you back.

“Joel’s glad y’all were finally able to make it. Been talking about it since yesterday.” Tommy explains.

“Yeah us too! Just worked out that we all could come out and enjoy this with someone back home now.” You mom teases, but it’s warm.

Even though you were cities away, the new workload just kept you so busy.

You’re grateful to be here too. Even though your mind still swirls trying to grasp all of this.

You knew your dad’s friend made it big as a professional baseball player. Joel and his family left Austin to move to Arlington after he signed for the Rangers. So you rarely saw them. But with your mom’s job recently relocating here, your dad talked non stop about maybe seeing more of the games. It never really clicked that your family knew a professional sports athlete. Plus you never cared too much for sports to even look more into it.

Now as the game starts with a wild explosive and electric opening, you feel like you’ve slipped into another reality.

Then Joel’s entrance arrives, and your heart jumps out of your chest. The stadium erupts in a wild frenzy. The music for his arrival is western themed, grand and epic.

“All of this is because the league calls him Cowboy Miller.” Your dad explains.

The nickname was given to him not just because of his very southern twang, but Joel’s cold demeanor on the mound along with his wild style of pitching. All this led to him being deemed a Cowboy.

You understand why.

A serious air of power radiates from Joel while he approaches the mound.

Wearing a jersey with the number two on it, he’s older, more distinguished than the last time you remember him. Grays pepper his beard and the shadow of his baseball cap highlights the wrinkles flowing across his face.

He’s handsome, utterly gorgeous. His shoulders look broad, pure striking mountains, in his white jersey.

It’s like your mind finally registers and settles into the reality he’s a man, a full grown and incredible man.

And he really is incredible.

Even though he’s older for a pitcher, he still possesses dazzling talent. You even clap loudly when he strikes one of the batters out.

Your eyes never leave him. Joel sternly staring down the batter is terrifying. His legs look strong as he whips the ball fast to the home plate. Your eyes can’t help but flicker to his ass when he walks back to the dugout.

He’s gorgeous.

But cold reality crashes into you when your dad brightly yells. Joel is your dad’s friend, and that thought sours the bubbling feelings in your chest.

So you try focusing on the game, which actually turns out to be rather fun. The vibe of the stadium, along with the atmosphere of the game itself, is easy to melt into.

At one point someone gets a hit off Joel and he has to run to cover first. He’s surprisingly fast. Seeing him catch the ball, get the out, is so impressive and hot as fuck.

After that the Rangers switch pitchers.

As he leaves the mound, the stadium cheers at Joel’s exit. Very politely he nods, raising his hand in a quick goodbye to everyone. Then he scans the crowd.

It’s admirable seeing how he instantly finds where his family is. Joel’s roughed face melts soft with a small crooked grin hearing the applause they give him. He even spots your dad proudly cheering.

Joel’s eyes then lock with yours. Still walking towards the dugout, his face stays on you while his focus narrows in a cloudy confusion like he’s trying to recognize you.

Then his eyes go wide as realization sinks in.

You weakly grin back. It’s all you can do before Joel is fully gone from your line sight. Your heart thumps erratically within its cage.

The Rangers unfortunately lose by three. Once the game ends, you decide to swing by the merch store.

“Guess the game made you a fan huh?” You mom perks up noticing you eyeing the jerseys.

You shrug easily with an eased grin.

After this the Rangers have a five game stretch at home.

You only know because after the game you check for all things about the team, about Joel. You haven’t brought yourself to look at any videos of Joel yet. But you did discover from the team's instagram that he has one too.

Early the next morning, still lounging in bed, you scroll through Joel’s instagram page. It seems very professional, like it’s run by a social media manager primarily using it to promote Joel without being too personal.

You’re not paying attention, still a bit too focused on your phone, when a knock comes at the door.

Your face scrunches up confused. Then terror sucker punches you when you see who’s at the door.

No way.

Opening the door Joel stares at you, but this time wearing striking thick black rimmed glasses. They make him incredibly distinguished. Instead of seeming like a professional baseball player you’re reminded of a studious professor. And without a baseball cap on, you’re given sight of his soft glorious curls and the light gray streaks dancing among them.

He’s knockout beautiful.

Of course, you’re still in your mismatched lounge clothes and barely look like you’ve left bed.

He says your name, greeting you with a curt nod. You swiftly greet him with an awkward hello.

“Are you going for like a Clark Kent thing?” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

Joel’s face scrunches up as he sighs.

“Gotta take a break from my contacts s’all.” He admits with a grumpy reply.

But it’s his thick twang, the familiar southern accent - that sweeps you breathless.

“How do they even let you pitch?” You lightly tease, and

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Good to see ya too.” He rumbles, finally greeting you.

Now realizing he’s still standing in your doorway, you let him in.

Joel explains how he wanted to come by, visit your folks, catch up, and thank them for getting to stop by.

You’re the one early thanking him.

“The tickets were incredible. And you did amazing the other night.” You add sincerely.

“Oh, yeah thanks. Glad we won.” Joel nods.

“So they let you just roam around?” You ask slightly stunned still seeing him here in your family kitchen.

Joel scoffs. “Ain’t gotta be at the stadium till later.”

“So, was uh…surprised to see ya at the game.” His tone now reeks of trying to just make small talk.

Weakly you grin back explaining it was a nice change from your days on campus.

“So…back from school, huh.” That awkward thick small talk tone of his gets worse especially as he asks how’s it going and what you’re doing.

For being a talented professional pitcher, right now he simply seems like just some guy…

Just your dad’s pal.

The thought brings a strange acidic taste in your mouth.

You explain school is going good and how you’re here just visiting until the next semester starts up again.

Politely he asks what you’re going to school for. You tell him about your program, explaining all the classes you’re taking and even about the undergrad classes you help TA for.

Joel nods, quiet. You wonder if this sounds boring to a man who professionally plays baseball everyday.

“You’re damn smart.” He then whistles low, and his compliment jumpstarts your heart.

“Haven’t read a book since… shit can’t even remember when.” Joel muses.

“What? They don’t have you take baseball quizzes for pitching?” You joke, but it falls flat. Joel just gives you a dull look.

However his lips twitch faintly, like he’s fighting a grin, and it makes you grin.

“Though, I’ve heard you could maybe work on your slider pitch.” You add.

From the clips you’ve seen and the comments you’ve read, that's the one thing others have commented on, along with how unbearably handsome he is. ESPN even named him one of sports top most eligible bachelors.

“Oh?” Joel’s eyebrows rise up fast. Crossing his hands over his chest, Joel turns towards you more.

“Suddenly you’re a sports analyst now, huh?” The way his voice perks up confidently, matching your edge of playfulness, causes something to get stuck in your throat.

“Y’gonna start telling me how to pitch too? Just like your old man used to.” Joel adds still with that same tone and even chuckles.

But his words slice through you. Swallowing hard, you steel yourself tight.

Thankfully the sound of the front door unlocking arrives. Your parents are home.

“You’re fantastic, Joel. Glad I got to see it live.” You tell him earnestly looking him straight in the eye, as if to stare him down and remind him unwavering you’re a grown adult. Even if you’re in lounge shorts and holey t-shirt, you try holding your head high with as much grace as you can.

With that you head to tell your parents Joel is here then quietly slip back to your room.

Eventually your mom knocks on your door and pops her head in.

“There’s another game tonight. Wanna go?” She offers.

You decline, explaining you want to rest and catch up with a few shows you’ve been neglecting. Thankfully neither of your parents pressure you to join them.

With the house to yourself, you now search for as many videos of Joel you can.

Even slowly starting to understand baseball at a base level, you realize Joel ‘Cowboy’ Miller really is spectacular. You hear about his time playing for The University of Texas and how adored he is by his alma mater.

Then heat crawls up your chest when you see clips of him drenched in sweat, heavily breathing, or even licking his lingers to help with the ball grip.

You quickly turn the videos off before you get yourself worked up.

This has to be just a simple infatuated infestation. You simply need to try to shake it off.

The last home game the Rangers play the Minnesota Twins and Joel isn’t pitching. You again decide to sit this game out. You just have to detox yourself of Joel Miller.

Until you’re invited to a dinner cookout at his home. You thought about maybe playing sick, but with how hungry you are, you see this just as an opportunity to get a nice meal.

Your dad casually mentions Joel’s house has a pool, a nice bonus. He just forgot to mention how huge the Miller house would be.

Though gorgeously grand, it’s still surprisingly cozy. In the backyard you spot Joel at the grill and it makes your head spin. The weathered old burnt orange Texas longhorn shirt he wears looks cozy and casual, sits on him beautifully highlighting his shoulders.

You slip into the pool hoping it will cool you off. But your eyes always find Joel who now laughs with your dad.

Joel’s eyes suddenly flicker to yours, catching you staring red handed. Immediately you sink back into the water.

There’s more people here than expected and you feel a bit out of place. After drying off, you decide to head inside for a drink.

The soft Texas evening illuminates the home in a gentle glow. The music from outside floats in a soft hum making the room feel like it’s underwater.

Ellie told you the house was free for you to roam and from the quick tour she gave, you caught a glimpse of something you want to see more.

So letting yourself maybe take another peek, you walk back to the small alcove carved in the wall. It’s honestly a rather quiet achievement exhibition compared to other grand trophy rooms you’ve imagined.

There are honestly more pictures of Sarah and Ellie, along with Tommy and the rest of the Miller clan, decorating the main hallway of the house. All of it suits Joel.

His UT longhorn jersey is framed on the wall. There are a few awards clustered together, a couple of magazine covers where he looks so dashing in his uniform.

But what makes your heart float are the framed drawings of Joel with a baseball on the mound that range from adorable scribbles to a rather good pencil sketch. These had to be Ellie and Sarah’s work.

“If you’re thinkin’ about stealin’ somethin’ maybe go for the jersey. I can always get another one.”

Joel’s drawl trickles out, and you almost jump out of your skin. Turning to the side he walks to where you are. You hate how exposed you feel just being caught in his gaze and also obviously browsing in his home.

“Nah, I was hoping for a World Series ring to steal and sell but.” You shrug playful, knowing now he’s gone to the Series but never won.

Joel makes a low hissing sound like he’s injured.

“Damn, y’hit low.” He chuckles low.

You grin triumphantly.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get a ring someday.” You say simply.

“Sound sure about that.” He replies.

“Cause it’s true.” You nod. “You’re pretty great.”

Even with your limited knowledge of baseball, it’s easy to see how great he is. Joel is incredibly talented, a shining star stitched in accomplishment. Yet you can tell hasn’t let it go to his head. He’s anchored by his loved ones, and it’s admirable. You even tell him that.

“I…thanks.” He stumbles for a moment, deep dark eyes a bit cloudy as he searches your face with his voice thick and rumbled.

“What game has been your favorite?” You suddenly ask, wanting to know more about him.

His eyebrows furrow and his deep eyes glaze over a bit distant, creating a face of thought that looks adorable.

Then he nods with a soft grin remembering.

“One of the first games the girls gotta go to.” He paints a picture of seeing his daughters, sitting with their uncle Tommy, wearing too large adorable Texas Rangers jerseys.

“One of the best games I ever played.” He adds gently.

He really is a rare beauty of a man with a gilded heart of gold.

“And you? Your folks talk about ya nonstop. Tell me about grad school. And none of that simple ‘it’s good’ crap.” The quick playful mimic he does of your voice makes you laugh warm and bright.

So you tell him about your favorite moments from lecture and the fondness you have for simply embracing subjects you love so much.

Joel stares fully focused on you. You swear his eyes twinkle like stars might be sowed right in his deep earth depths.

He opens his mouth, eager to continue the conversation. Until the kitchen comes alive with more people entering inside. The bubble breaks, but electricity still brews under your skin.

The next day the Rangers have a game at Globe Life Field you go.

Even if Joel isn’t pitching, you want to experience this world he loves so much. You’re however surprised to find Joel is starting.

Your dad explains how one of the pitchers planned for today had to rest. So Joel will simply be the opener before the rest of the bullpen steps in.

Your heart doesn’t rage wildly as it did like seeing him the first time. Now you feel almost drawn to Joel. You focus on his stance on the mound, so disciplined and almost hauntingly serious.

The Arizona Diamondbacks batter hits the ball solid. It flies straight at Joel, and fear sinks its fangs into you.

Until with fast reflexes Cowboy Miller catches the ball eased. You and the stadium erupt wild.

The Rangers win one to four. On the high of the game, you head to the jerseys again in the shop.

“You should get one!” Your mom urges.

Your fingers itch, almost begging you to grab the jersey that says Miller on it. But something continues to hold you back.

On the drive back home, you now see all the great reaction clips and memes of the game. There's a particular one of Joel catching the ball that includes a great western music overlay, like he’s a hero in an old cowboy movie.

Feeling brave, you send the reel to his Instagram profile. You even add underneath the message “now you just gotta work on that slider pitch.”

You send it. Think, hell at worst the poor social media manager will see it and not even give it the time or day. He must get so many messages anyway.

When you get home, you see the message has been read.

But also, a new profile has followed you.

JM_8712

The profile also sent you a message.

JM_8712: ain’t nothing wrong with my slider

No way.

This can’t be who you think it is. You message back saying this possibly can’t be the real Joel Miller because he doesn’t seem like the type to even know how to send a gif.

JM_8712: think ur so funny huh

The account sends a simple gif of someone rolling their eyes.

Then another message flies in.

JM_8712: ur dad get those damn nachos he kept bitchin about with Tommy?

It feels like one of Joel’s changeup pitches knocks you out.

Because it’s really him messaging you. When you even go to double check the blank profile just to make sure, it barely follows more than twenty people and you spot Ellie and Sarah’s accounts among those profiles.

Warmth unfolds from your chest, dangerous and electric. This is Joel’s personal private account.

Unknowingly this all kicks off something you never thought would have ever started. You and Joel start talking.

The messages flow between you and him, back and forth, at first just talking about the games. Then, when the Rangers leave to travel, the messaging increases.

Joel sends you pictures of the places he travels, the food he eats, the vacant stadiums he gets to enjoy.

You devour it all with a greedy eagerness. However it dawns on you that you’re sliding down a slope too slippery to stop.

For the rest of the summer you earnestly check your messages on the app.

One evening, on a stormy delayed game against the Dodgers, your messages don’t send through. The weather is getting worse in Los Angeles.

“They’re gonna reschedule the game. Storm’s not letting up.” Your dad comments glumly.

You just hope Joel is alright.

Instagram finally alerts you of a message and your heart jumps.

Joel.

JM_8712: sorry connections shit

Then he simply sends you his phone number.

You wonder if you’re seeing things.

Trying to keep calm you text the number a simple message asking if he’s alright.

When your text alert chimes, it rattles your brain.

Yeah im good thanks

Then another message follows. It’s a photo from the locker, bags packed like he’s ready to leave.

Looks like room service for tonight

It’s Joel. You’re texting Joel right now.

It feels like a step deeper into a current you never want to leave.

Texting seems to shift the energy between you and him, a transmutation you never could have imagined.

You text Joel good morning and he tells you good night. You and him bond over a love of music. He’s got incredible taste while also complimenting yours. You stay up late on game days when pitched and now feel your throat dry up knowing you’re getting to know the man on the mound.

The desire brewing more for Joel mixes with the summer heat and melts the days away. Soon enough summer dwindles away, and your new semester approaches.

The drive back to your apartment is a good couple of hours. Funny enough Joel is also traveling today for a game. Stopping for gas midway, your phone goes off.

You think at first it must be one of your parents.

But instead it’s Joel.

You scramble to answer.

“Hey,” his voice sounds incredibly richer and deep on the phone.

“Y’doin’ alright?” Joel asks hesitant.

That catches you off guard.

“Oh yeah, just finished putting in gas actually. Why, what’s up?” You relax more into the conversation now curious to why he called asking that.

Joel sighs.

“Sorry I just…your last text uh, it just got me worried.”

Now you’re really curious about what you texted him. It had been half an incomplete response you sent. Even from your side it seemed abrupted and strange.

Sighing, you apologize that you didn’t even realize you had done that. In the rush of wanting to get out on the road you must have just sent the text.

But it suddenly hits you. Joel called because he was worried. That thought rips into you with a ferocious rawness.

“Okay yeah,” Joel says a bit clumsily. “I’ll…let you go.”

“No, it’s okay.” You quickly reassure him. “How’s the traveling going?”

“Good, just finished rewatching one of the inflight movies.”

“Please tell me it was Field of Dreams.” You tease him with the iconic baseball film as you head back on the road. Just now with Joel on the phone.

On speaker, Joel scoffs echoing in your car all around you. You realize this might be a bad decision trying to stay focused driving while also talking to him.

“Funny.” His thick drawl is dry but so softly teasing just below the surface.

“Was some new movie Sarah told me to watch but…fell asleep.” Joel admits low.

Thinking of him asleep on the plane clutches at something warm and deep in you.

Yes you can admit how badly you want Joel, how you picture what his calloused fingers would feel like on you, in you. But you also are finding yourself aching for more now…

Like falling asleep beside him while watching a movie, or sharing a meal with him and teasing him over his dry sense of humor.

It’s dangerous falling deeper like this.

Especially now in a blink you realize you’ve been talking to Joel this entire drive to your apartment.

“Shit sorry.” He realizes it when he sees the time. “Y’should’ve told me to fuck off. Don’t gotta waste your time talkin’ to some old ass like me.”

He rarely comments on his age, and his words sink hard into your gut.

“Trust me… I’m glad I get to talk to you.” You truthfully tell him.

“You’re the one who probably has better things to do than talk to me.” You add slightly dejected. The words even sting your lips.

“Like watching Field of Dreams.” You quickly add some light humor trying to dispel your heartache leaking in.

Joel snorts.

“Definitely would rather chat with you than watch that.” Joel mutters, but his world electrifies your skin.

“I’m flattered knowing I can beat Kevin Costner.” You joke. When he snorts amused, warmth fills you to the brim.

Someone in the distance calls out to Joel, and you know your time with him is limited. It’s confirmed when he sighs.

“Gonna be landing soon. Ya make it to your place okay?” He asks.

“I did, thank you. And thanks for keeping me company on the drive.” You smile to yourself.

“Don’t mention it. Uh, glad you made it back safe.” Joel replies and his words make you melt.

You say his name quick.

“Can you just… Text me when you make it to the hotel?” Just to know he’s safe. It’s simple, but it feels as if the words weigh a ton.

A moment passes.

“Yeah, will do.” Joel agrees.

He doesn’t text you. Instead Joel calls you when he gets to the hotel.

“Saw a full on fuckin’ fight at the airport when we landed.” Joel rambles immediately, and you learn how much of a secret gossip he is. While Joel breaks down all the details of what he saw, you realize he wanted to tell you about this.

A light burst in your chest because you want to tell Joel everything too.

And when your next semester starts, you tell him all you can.

The texting stays but evolves into more frequent phone calls. Joel listens to you with a gruff saint’s patience. He faintly picks up the names of your professors, even the name of your roommate. At one point he even stays on the phone with you when you cook dinner.

Joel calls during the stretch of waiting at the airports, a few times after games. Sometimes he rants about his teammates, sighs about his frustrations when they lose or when he ends up not doing well on the mound.

While every inch in your body still hums for Joel, it’s steady now - like you’re slowly accepting these emotions fully into your bloodstream and part of your existence.

You adore Joel, maybe more than you want to admit.

During a rare night out with your friends from class, feeling nice in your favorite outfit, courage courses through you. After posting a few photos from your night out, you also post a rather nice selfie.

You pray Joel sees it. Then you get a bit tipsy, and it takes all your willpower not to text Joel.

But the alcohol burns in you. Once you’re back at your apartment, in the safety of your room, you pull up your favorite video.

It’s a spring training video the Rangers made of the team preparing for the upcoming season. The video ranged from showing the guys on the field practicing, to them in the weight room.

There’s a nice small segment just on Cowboy Joel Miller. Specifically he’s training with a few weights and when you first saw it, your throat got so dry.

Joel is drenched in sweat. The simple worn navy blue shirt sticks to his body, highlighting the tone of his arms and width of his shoulders. Curls wet with sweat stick to his forehead. His concentrated face is sinful.

But not as hot as the sounds he makes.

The grunts, the soft growls, the exhales he gives lifting the weights… they drench your thoughts with images of him fucking.

You’ve never done this before, never gotten off on his videos. You never wanted to fall this far.

But it’s so hard when your body feels molten, so wet hearing with his groans directly in your ears. Your fingers trail down to relieve the throbbing wet ache between your legs.

Imagining Joel’s sweaty gorgeous body pressed against yours, picturing his thicker fingers in you, getting to taste him on your tongue - you come incredibly fast.

The next morning a text and a somber guilt wait for you.

Joel of course had messaged you.

Looks like you had fun last night

So he did see your pictures. A blistering heat crawls in your throat.

But reality sinks in fast. You got off to Joel. You don’t want to feel guilty. You reason there’s probably others who have maybe done it. But it does quietly eat at you.

So much that you don’t even reply to Joel for the whole day trying to sort your mind out. He’s the one that eventually calls you.

“Y’go out on a date or somethin’?” Joel asks about the night out, and your mind sputters to a halt.

“Oh uh, no. Just went out with some friends in class.”

“Oh.” He replies quick. “Well, looked like fun.”

You agree and thank him.

“But yeah, no dates for me.” You weakly laugh.

“Yeah? Any reason why?” Joel presses.

Because you’re partially head over heels for him, but you can’t admit that yet.

“No one’s asked me recently that’s all.” You reply simply. You’ve done the dating apps, had the headache mess of ghosting and awkward dates.

Joel snorts. “Pretty thing like you? Hard to imagine.”

His words, like a change up ball that drops wildly in the air, disorient you.

“Trust me, it’s real.” You dryly reply.

“And you? You must be seeing some famous celebrity in secret huh?” You teasingly ask.

You’ve seen the ESPN clips of the beautiful reporters flirting with him, cooing at how handsome he is. He probably could snag a supermodel or other famous person.

Joel barks a hollow laugh of a thing.

“No, none of that.” He answers.

“Ain’t not time for that or…mainly…haven’t found anyone who’s got the patience for me.”

Your heart sinks.

“Wait, what do you mean?” You quietly press.

He sighs.

“M’ older, a single dad. My schedule ain’t perfect. And those that have tried to uh… pursue something haven’t always had the best intentions.”

His voice trails off somber. You wonder how many just wanted him for his money or fame.

A grim cloud seems to settle above you.

“You’re a great guy Joel, an incredible one.” You earnestly tell him. “Those who can’t see it don’t deserve you.”

“And I have to say it but…you’re a real catch.” You go for the obvious baseball pun.

Joel’s chuckle is a beautiful low gruff treasure.

“That was bad.” You can almost picture him shaking his head. “But thanks…same uh, same goes for you. You’re smart, gorgeous. Someone will come around to see you’re worth it.”

You’re drowning in his words. They feel too much.

He ends up having to quickly end the call with his manager calling, and you’re thankful for it. Because this blooming rawness in you feels like it’s getting too much, yet not enough.

Joel’s compliments are sincere. But many feelings tangle you up. It hurts, like you’re stuck in a rose bush trying to get comfortable within the thorns.

Then, the universe decides to pull you away from Joel.

Classes kick up and the workload piles on. You’re exhausted. It even gets harder to reply to Joel as swiftly as you did. You even miss a few of his phone calls and don’t even call him back.

The days blur together.

Then, one morning you find a text waiting for you.

hope you’re alright

You want to cradle that message.

When you call Joel, it’s like not a day has passed between you and him. Your heart soars hearing his voice again.

“So uh…” Joel begins cautiously, and you’ve never heard him this nervous almost. “We’ll be heading your way into town soon.”

That’s right.

Caught up in the semester you completely forgot the team would be playing the Astros soon. Excitement immediately rises in you.

“Hope ya can come out and see us. And if ya do, let me know.” Joel suggests and you swear his voice sounds shy.

The minute the conversation ends, you try checking for tickets. But they’re a pretty penny. You jokingly circle the top section, the highest nosebleeds, and text him saying he needs to try and find you from here.

He texts back immediately.

Don’t worry about the tickets. Just head to will call and let them know you’re with me. Got it covered

That might be one of the hottest things you’ve ever read.

Game day can’t approach any faster. Your parents even mention the upcoming game when you call to check up.

“You should try to go!” Your dad urges, eager.

A part of you has wondered if Joel mentioned you to your dad. You’ve kept quiet, not saying a thing about whatever this is with Joel, and you now think so did Joel.

You take a small comfort in that.

When game day does arrive, you head to Minute Maid Park alone. Your closest friend and classmate couldn’t make it, and neither could your roommate. But for some reason, you’re slightly okay with being here by yourself.

At the ticket window, you nervously say that you’re here for Joel. Like if nothing they verify your name, and with an ease slide tickets your way.

Not just any tickets, but seats right by the Rangers dugout.

Still stunned, but now slightly lost, you can’t help but feel stranded in the stadium.

“You okay, sweetie?” A lovely voice comes and when you turn, you find a sweet older motherly woman. She wears a Texas Rangers jersey and another younger woman stands besides her in the same jersey. They both stare at you concerned.

“You lost?” The younger woman asks sympathetically.

It must be that obvious. The motherly older woman politely asks to check your tickets to point you in the right direction. She perks up.

“Aw look at that! You’re sitting close to us! Come on, we’ll show ya around!” She beams warmly.

“Wait, are you sure?” You ask worried.

“Oh of course,” the younger woman reassures you with a smile. “The stadium is so huge and besides, us Rangers fans gotta stick together.”

She then winks, noticing the Rangers shirt you bought and wore for the game.

You find out Malinda, the older woman, is the mother of the first baseman. And the other lady, Casey, is his wife.

Kindly, this sweet family adopts you, guiding you towards the section literally right besides the dugout on the other side of the net.

You’re stunned in shock yet again.

Even though your tickets are a few rows away from the two sweet ladies, they reassure you you’ll be fine sitting with them.

It’s beautiful and comforting.

“So, who are you here for?” Casey asks with a friendly gossip like whisper. “These seats are for friends and family, and I haven’t seen you around before.”

But then she quickly reassures you don’t have to explain if you don't want to.

You with a weak laugh you’re here to see Joel, adding that he’s a family friend. Her eyes go wide.

“Oh wow! And he warmed up today too so he might pitch!” She says excitedly.

Joel had texted you before the line up was confirmed that he would be warming up.

Don’t know if I’m gonna get put in but just in case

Even if he didn’t, you told him you just wanted to be there to support him.

With the Rangers being the visiting team, they bat first. You want to root for the guys to get a hit and get on base, but you also already selfishly want to see Joel.

Three outs come and the Rangers switch to take the field. No sign of Joel.

In fact he doesn’t show up until the fifth inning, and it happens so casually. Joel simply walks out from the dugout and takes your breath away.

The team wears their cobalt blue jerseys and the color flatters Joel marvelously.

It feels like seeing him for the first time all over again but through a deeper lens you can’t explain.

You clap and cheer with pride when he manages to strike out the first batter. Then the second.

Two strikeouts back to back.

Joel told you back in his younger days he struck out seven hitters in a row. Now for him to get two, much less strike out the third batter, is something to applaud and admire. And the Rangers fans here, including yourself, cheer loud when the team heads back for the next inning.

“Cowboy Miller in his golden age.” Someone off to the side whistles appreciatively.

You don’t fight the syrupy fondness swallowing you whole.

“It’s rare that a more…seasoned pitcher like Joel still is relied on,” your new friend Casey explains. “But it’s hard to see why not. Everyone’s been saying like he’s almost found a new groove and still has so much power.”

He’s a force you’re terribly in awe of.

Seeing the whip of how strong his body still pitches the ball with a dizzying speed, how handsome he looks under the baseball cap, you want to savor this as much as you can.

Joel manages to get two more strikes out in the second inning. Then by the seventh they get a hit off him but thankfully, no runs come in. Cowboy Miller ends the inning striking out the final batter. You, and the other Rangers fans present, erupt wild.

He did amazing.

Laser focused, locked in on the game, he doesn’t search the crowd or even glance up and you understand. The game gets intense when the Astros manage to hit a home run in the eight. In the end the Rangers win because of an error.

But it’s still a sweet victory.

You relish and warmly celebrate it with your co cheerleaders for the game that made you feel so welcomed with them. You’re about to head up and leave, start looking for an Uber ride home, when Malinda calls to you.

“Sweetie? Aren’t ya gonna wait with us and greet the guys!?” She asks with warm curious sweetness.

You can’t say no.

The commotion sweeps you into a neon coated excitement. There’s a special area sectioned off, almost in a backstage-like section that connects to the entry way for the visiting teams. You’re surprised at how many others wait here.

The team slowly trickles out of the locker room and into the hallway. You’re hilariously reminded of a class being let out.

Then the world then melts away when Joel walks out. Focused on his phone you almost want to call out to him, but your voice gets caught in your throat.

Putting his phone away Joel finally glances up and spots you.

Even with his baseball cap on, you see his eyes widen for a fraction. Your body reacts on its own moving towards him. But he also walks fiercely towards you.

The world blurs away for a moment and then without even thinking, you’re embracing him.

It happens so naturally you don’t even realize what you did until you blink and it’s like you’ve been thrown into cold water.

Panicking, you’re about to pull away until Joel’s arms slowly wrap around you.

“Good to see ya too.” He says low gruff but you’re taken out by the knees grateful your body doesn’t give out.

He smells of sweat, of the dirt on the field, and something sharply Joel, and it’s wonderful.

Quickly you draw yourself away to proudly tell him how amazing he did. Joel waves you off with a gruff noise as his eyes refuse to meet you, almost bashful.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him this close, been in the same space as him. And it feels so different.

“Alright, dinner?” Someone says, and when you turn, you’re stunned to see it’s the team manager.

Guess this means you’ll be saying goodbye.

“Headin’ home?” Joel asks when he notices you staying back once everyone funnels outside.

“Uh yeah, gotta grab an Uber first. Didn’t wanna drive down here and deal with Houston traffic along with awful parking during a game.” You joke, and Joel snorts.

“Let me take ya back then.” He offers, and you almost drop your phone.

You scramble out reassuring Joel it’s fine.

“Besides, don’t you have dinner to go to?” And where would he even get a car to take you.

“S’fine. Would rather make sure you get home safe anyway.” He then tells you to hang tight then goes to grab one of the rental cars the team has on ready.

Because of course they do.

Your blood hums wild knowing Joel is taking you home, that you’re going to be alone with him. Even in this glimmering dusted dream you still want to tell Malinda and Casey goodbye and thanks for treating you so kindly.

You wish them well and even welcome their warm goodbye hug.

“Wish you could come to dinner!” Casey frowns.

“Maybe next time.” Her mother in law says bright.

Next time.

“Yes hope to see you at more games.” Casey grins and the possibility bubbles iridescent in you.

With a goodbye to them you wait for Joel. There are still a few others of the wives or girlfriends hanging around while the team sorts out where to go.

You haven’t turned to give them any attention. However something crawls on your skin like you’re hyper aware of being watched.

“Did you see how she hugged him? Probably just using him, poor Joel.” One of them whispers.

“She’s not even that pretty.” Another one giggles.

“Oh then you know he’s maybe just using her then! And if that’s the case then good for Joel.” The other replies with a searing joke that makes your stomach sick.

Joel returns, keys in his hand. “Ready to go?”

You weakly grin back.

You should be basking in this moment of finally getting to be alone with Joel, of getting to see him drive you around. Once in the car he took off his cap allowing you sight of his soft hair. The darkness of the car, the warmth of the city lights flickering by, all coat him glorious. Yet those comments from earlier fester poisonous and sour any hope of enjoying this.

You stay rather quiet while giving him directions to your place.

Joel however is surprisingly talkative.

“So you’ll have to give me recommendations of places to go around here.” His voice even sounds just traces softer, higher almost - like he’s happy being here.

And it kills you.

“Y’seem quiet, you okay?” He notices it of course, ever aware.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t know the game would take that much outta me.” You lie.

Eventually you arrive at your apartment complex.

“Your place is nice.” Joel admires as he helps you out of the car like the Texan gentleman he is. He even follows you to your door.

You graciously thank him again for this night and for taking you home.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again.

You walk a few steps away from him. The night all around is still quiet, feels soupy with how much hangs in you.

You refuse to cry about this, don’t want to get emotional. If anything, you deserve to treat this like an adult.

“Joel…” you start cautiously, already hating the way your voice wavers.

“Yeah?” His voice stays steady, unbothered, but his eyes furrowing say otherwise.

“What…what is this? What are we?” You ask as steady as you can, but your tone continues to crack.

Joel’s eyes brow furrow and his mouth closes, tightening his jaw.

“Just…good friends.” He replies simply, almost cold. “Just showing my pal’s daughter a nice night.”

There it is.

Your soul deflates. So all the times you’ve felt like this might be something, maybe it's just been you wishing it would be.

So salvaging whatever dignity left, you nod.

“Thanks again, Joel.” You reply briskly and return walking towards your door.

He says your name. It stops you dead in your tracks.

“Why? Why d’ya ask that?” He asks, pressing firm and hard.

You turn back to him, and a deep scowl is etched on his face.

“It doesn’t matter.” You answer.

“The fuck does that mean?” He snaps a bit sharp.

“It means what it means.” You fire back.

“Bullshit. Why did you ask that?” Joel growls out firmer.

“Even if I told you, it doesn’t matter.” You repeat.

“Stop sounding like a fuckin’ owl.” His voice rises hard and fast, like a hand slamming on the wall.

It startles you, makes your eyes water and something in you shakes. Mainly because you know this is beginning to taste like the end. The smallest trace of hope is dissipating right before you.

You blink back tears, and immediately Joel’s face falls.

“Honey, I’m sorry-”

Shaking your head, you cut him off. Not even the sweet pet name he effortlessly uses can shake you.

Through gritted teeth you tell him to go.

“Not when you’re this upset.” He urges.

Through tears a sad water laugh escapes you and Joel’s eyes go cloudy.

“I’m realizing…I’ll never be anything to you then just your friend's kid, huh?” Your voice is waterlogged and you can’t fight it.

“You are.” He states simple and straightforward.

You nod, swallowing back the heartache boiling over.

“Can’t be anythin’ more than that.” Joel adds through mutter.

“Why?” You now ask him. Under the amber light of your apartment’s hallway the most frustrated cloudy look hardens his face.

His eyes scan your face then he steps closer towards you

“Don’t act dumb, sweetheart.” His voice rips out low cruel, slightly harsh.

You’re not and you tell him that.

“I…” the words you’ve held locked up so fiercely in your heart now sneak out from their bars to escape.

“I’d give anything to be yours, Joel.” You croak barely realizing you even said that.

He inhales, and his face goes taunt.

You wait for the sharp reply, even brace for it.

Instead Joel swoops in, kisses you wild like a sudden storm, and presses you against the door of your apartment.

Greedily, you claw onto him not wanting to ever let this go, to let him go. Your mouth begs him more to invade and consume. And he does so with a steady hunger.

The clamor into your apartment is messy, but at one point Joel cautiously stops to look around.

“My roommate’s visiting family…” you reassure, kissing his neck and softly under the side of his jaw with delicate cautious lips.

“Just you and me.” You whisper soft.

Joel takes command the minute you lead him to your room.

“Thought about this. Fuck, think about ya all the damn time.” He growls against your neck as he slides your bra off and runs a callous hand over your chest.

“Fucked my fist that first night you went swimmin’ at m’house.” Joel’s words make you whine and then his lips lick against your skin trying to savor you.

“Me too.” You admit through a whimper. “Touched myself thinking of you.”

Joel freezes.

“Tell me,” he says rather calmly, deadly almost.

Your syrupy lust begins fading away when you realize what you said, what he asks for, and what your answer will be.

Your lips and eyes shut close.

Then Joel’s warm breath, like a ghost, crawls against up your chest and tickles against your ear now.

“Come on, honey,” his voice is utterly decadent with a plea. “Tell me, please.”

You swallow hard telling Joel you don't want him to get weirded out.

He hums against your neck already starting to suck a mark against your skin. Your eyes roll back, and the embarrassment is quickly fading away.

“Promise, I’ll be okay.” Joel reassures you with a mumble against your skin.

So with a shaky voice, you weakly admit how you touched yourself to videos of him.

He groans.

“Baby, oh fuck, fuckin - shit.” Joel sputters out hard, like he just got kicked in the gut, and you’re worried until his lips smash into yours.

He devours you.

You’re swept into a tangled dizzying frenzy. Your clothes practically get ripped off as do Joel’s while he clutches onto you and licks into your mouth.

“That’s my girl. Knew you’d be m’good girl.” He says almost drunk and you’re done for.

You fall into the chasm with no hopes of turning back. But you don’t want to.

Joel feels like a god carving open your universe. You want to consume him and want him to consume you. He becomes your center of gravity.

In the aftermath, you’re left basking in Joel’s warmth and never want to leave.

Even though you were in his arms, Joel had to sit up to take a call and now scrolls through his phone. Your fingers trace his beautiful back.

You’re thankful for all the soft lamps you bought that now melt him into a dreamlike glow.

“Joel.”

He hums a gruff gentle noise that says he’s listening.

“I don’t…” you begin softly, then tell him your doubts. You don’t want him to think you’re simply using him for his status or money.

“Joel… you could quit or retire tomorrow and work with your brother as a contractor and I’d still always want you the way I want you.” Your deliciously aching limbs, the soft afterglow, all of it has you speaking soft and freely.

You never wanted Joel because of his fame or even because of the forbidden taste of him being friends with your dad. You wanted Joel for deeper reasons, some that have carved out a chasm in your heart.

You explain this all to him best as you can without rambling or sounding silly.

Joel sighs.

“Y’shouldn’t.” His voice is a hollow rumble. “I’m old, friends with your dad. We shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

Now a bitter venom spills in you.

You glare at his back, how his shoulders slump defeated while you sit up

“I'm an adult, Joel. And if that’s all you’re worried about then sorry it’s a shit reason.” You launch back.

Over his shoulder he glares at you.

“If…” you swallow hard. “If you’re the one who wants to leave, because i’m that young, or you really don't want this or don’t feel what I feel, then fine. At least tell me that.”

“But I care about you. And I want to make this, us, work.” You finish firmly, even with how much emotions clash in your chest.

Joel sighs again. His eyes face turns away now down downcasted.

“Didn’t wanna want you the way I do. You’re so bright, fucking’ smart and so g’damn gorgeous.” He softly admits.

A pause settles between him and you.

“Y’could be with someone younger, less complicated.” Joel admits low.

“Don’t want anyone younger or less complicated. Just want you.” You reassure with a soft steady mutter.

He goes quiet again.

“Used to not get bothered when I started leavin’ away games by myself. With Tommy married and the business booming, then the girls startin’ to have their own lives…I didn’t mind doing this alone.”

Underneath his words you catch it, his rusting loneliness.

“But then…these past few months…and now today seeing ya waitin’ for me…” he says clipped, like the rest of his words are caught in his throat and he can’t free them yet

Joel turns, and his eyes bore into you.

The silence stays as you stare unflinchingly back at him.

He doesn’t need to say anything else. You don’t think you have to either. Like a magnetic pull, it’s effortless moving towards him. Joel’s warm large calloused hand, seasoned from so many seasons of hard work, of pitching, cradles your face. You kiss him with every inch of your heart.

Even after spending the night, you’re surprised Joel hasn’t left yet. He even comments about figuring out lunch plans with you.

“You have another game today, Cowboy.” You comment.

The term makes his eyebrows rise, and the most coy smirk tugs his face making him look so charming.

“Got today off to rest, ya little shit.” It’s affectionate. “Besides my back ain’t what it use to be and after goin’ more rounds with ya this morning-”

In the middle of your living room you rush to kiss him.

The rest of the day unfolds like a dream drenched and stitched from every domestic fantasy you’ve ever had. Joel stands in your kitchen when you make him a quick lunch and you laugh apologizing that your fridge isn’t MLB diet certified. Joel steals your last saved snack after that joke.

Cuddled snug on the couch with him, you try watching a movie but Joel, so greedy and handsy, ends up fucking your brains out with his tongue.

When dinner rolls around, you order from your favorite local takeout place and Joel pays for everything. You ignore all the work you need to do for the week and don’t care. You’re here at this moment and want to stay crystalized in it for as long as you can.

But tomorrow is the last day before the team leaves to Miami to play the Marlins.

While showering with him, you wrap yourself against Joel’s back already dreading his leave. He seems to sense it too because his hands squeezes yours.

Against your shower wall he glides into you tender and slow, almost trying to draw out every inch of this.

Later that night, you try staying up but the day begins settling in. Your eyes flutter trying to fight sleep.

He mutters your name soft while his fingers run soft against your side.

“Hm?” You answer, trying hard to fight your tired eyes.

“Don’t want ya to think i’m ever using you, honey. You’re not just some young thing keepin’ me company.”

His words are simple, but they erupt so much in you.

Joel had been spooning you from behind, but now you immediately turn around to burrow your face against his chest. You reassure him and his arms tighten around you wonderful chains you wish never break.

But the next morning arrives.

“Gonna come to our last game here?” Joel asks while he packs up.

“Don’t know, I heard you guys still have that really old guy who might be pitching.” You say with a shrug.

His face frowns hard, but Joel moves to playfully smack your ass while you laugh. He quickly draws you in for another kiss.

You have class tomorrow and work you need to jump on, but you go to the game. Joel doesn’t play, but you don’t mind. Getting to hug him goodbye one last night in the shadow of the stadium is worth it.

“Text ya when we get to the airport.” Joel promises, secretly placing a soft kiss on your head.

That night when you get home you order not one, but two Joel Miller jerseys.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Dressing for revenge [K. B]

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

word count: 7k

summary: when Kaz and his crows return from Ravka they run into trouble, and to solve it, he looks for a childhood friend who is too resentful and too in love with him

warnings: trauma, PTSD, spoilers for S&B season 2, no physical contact, here Kaz has no romantic feelings for Inej

A/N: I LOVE Kanej, but I wanted to write something with Kazzle Dazzle because I love him too, lol. I hope you like it!

taglist (who I thought might be interested): @rustyyyyspoonz

The rumor had already spread throughout the Barrel: “Kaz Brekker and his crows are back” How long had it been since they had embarked into the Fold? Just a couple of months? They had felt like years, if you were being honest.

If it was true that they were back, you felt sorry for the trouble they were going to run into. The change of ownership of their club, the strengthening of the other gangs, and mainly the fact that they were being tried for murder thanks to the fact that Pekka Rollins had awarded it to them... all these problems were going to fall on them like a bucket of water cold. It had already fallen on them, in fact, since the rumor was accompanied that they had escaped from the stadwatch once they were captured.

You didn't know how much of what everyone was saying was true and how much was false, trying to stay as calm as possible when the name Kaz came from someone's lips for fear that Pekka had some magical ability and could read your mind or sense the fear in your eyes every time you met him. Afraid of him and afraid of what he might do to you if he knew you knew the black-haired man.

Things had changed a lot since the last time you saw the boy and that was more than noticeable. Your story goes back long before he made his reputation when you were just a couple of neighbor kids playing on the farms. You two arrived in Ketterdam together, with nothing but hopes for a better future and Jordie as your protector (or an attempt at that, at least), after your father and Mr. Rietveld died in the same accident, reuniting with Kaz’s mother and later to be matched by your mother, who had died of sadness, if that was possible. Three helpless children thrown into the cruel world were what came of that and the rest is history.

Crime, robbery, gangs, and a life of hardship were what you had to adjust to as a child, but you doubted very much that a single person living in The Barrel would be in a different situation. You weren't fully involved in the disgraced jobs of the majority, but if there was one true thing, it was that when it came to obtaining information you were, to say the least, excellent. You and Kaz had to fend for yourselves, and you learned what you could from the streets. In this way he and you became a team, so to speak, for a few teenage years, and for that period of your lives having each other was the only thing in the world. Over time he became ruthless, rude, a great fighter and earned the nickname 'dirtyhands' thanks to his gambling skills, from which he obtained most of the things you had. You learned to move quickly, to go unnoticed, and to defend yourself from those who tried to harm you, always supporting the boy’s plans.

Less than a year was enough for his name to become known and he began to think big. Sometimes he would tell you about the plans he had: to run Fifth Harbor, to establish the crow club, to become the best of The Barrel. All of that sounded like crazy ideas at first, but looking back you realized that he had accomplished too much in that pit for your relatively young age.

You never knew what made you and Kaz go their separate ways, but somehow it had happened. It was gradual, maybe that's why it was hard for you to notice, but one day you woke up and realized the distance that existed between him, who previously was practically the only family you knew, and you. It didn't take much for him to decide to break the bond that had held you together from a very early age; he never gave reasons for this and you never asked him.

You lived under some protection from the leader of The Crows, of course, but very few people could link you to The Bastard of the Barrel. Sometimes you still provided him with information, but when he found someone else, the inquiries became less and less frequent until one day they turned into none. You managed to eat and have a roof over your head pretty well (and mostly honestly) and you tried to stay out of trouble for a long time.

Until one day he flew away from Ketterdam without warning and order in the Barrel was disturbed in every possible way. With his team gone, it didn't take long for Pekka to seize control and anyone who didn't work for him was inevitably against him. It was only a matter of time before he found out the talent you had tried to hide and forced you to carry his lion shield... figuratively speaking.

If he ever knew that you used to work with Kaz he never mentioned it or maybe your relationship with him had been severed so long that no one remembered it anymore. Now you were just a little girl, as he used to call you, slippery enough that she seemed so harmless that, in his eyes, that became a benefit. You were never one to look rude, unfortunately for you, and that allowed men like him to feel entitled to take advantage of you. You thanked the saints that Rollins didn't find you attractive or who knows what other services he would have requested from you. It was always better to provide him with the information he needed than for him to force you to be his lover.

You weren't a part of the meetings that the Dime Lions had and you weren't considered a member either, which kept you calm every night. You were just another piece in the enormous chess game that Pekka moved at his convenience, the same game that was threatened by the mere existence of Kaz Brekker and much more so now that he had returned.

In the middle of the night it was logical to ask yourself, what kind of strange plans would he have in mind now?

One, two, and three knocks surprised you at the rickety wooden door and made you jump out of your chair, where you were already asleep. An old lamp was on the even older table and it illuminated the little space that your provisional home had so you took it to approach to open the door. It was raining outside (quite unusual for that time of year) and by the time it was you figured it was one of Rollins' idiots coming to do a job for you. What would he want now? Harbor information? Talk to a policeman? He was supposed to control everything, sometimes you kept wondering why he asked for your help.

When you opened the door, the air slipped in and almost extinguished the flame of the fire, but the temperature of the night wasn’t what left you freezing, but the presence that was in front of you. With his hat, a completely black outfit, and his cane in hand, but above all soaked from head to toe, there was him; Kaz. You almost feared you were imagining it, but you knew it was him by the clear, penetrating eyes that were watching you, even though you admitted that he had changed so much that in other circumstances you would have had trouble recognizing him.

“Did I arrive at a bad time?” he asked. No warm greetings, no smiles, no explanations. Just a cold, serious question, just the way he was.

“Someone followed you? If this place is horrible by itself, I don't want blood staining the floor” you replied with the same tone. You wanted to tell him that you had missed him, ask him if he was okay, and give him a huge hug, but those actions should be reserved for your nocturnal fantasies, because as soon as you took a step forward he would be able to hit you with his cane. Or at least that's what the Kaz you knew would do, but you doubted very much that the passing of the years would have softened his heart.

"Nobody followed me" was all he said and you stepped aside at the door so he could go inside. Even with his words, you felt the need to look out on both sides of the street in search of someone, but with the level of rain, you doubted very much that someone would want to stay and spy because he would probably die of pneumonia.

When you closed the door and turned around he didn't say anything, he just stood in front of you while the water drained from his coat. During that moment of silence, you allowed yourself to admire it under the warm light of the candle; his eyes definitely hadn't changed one bit, but now there was a tinge of contempt more noticeable than before. His features had hardened and he was thinner, barely resembling the boy you remembered, perhaps as a reminder of just that... that he was now a man.

“So the rumors are true…” you started to say “You are back”

"I think that's more than obvious," he exclaimed. For a second you forgot that it was he who had knocked on your door and you felt uncomfortable as if you were an intruder who had to get out of there.

There was silence again and you two just looked at each other. Kaz had made his own mental list of changes he noticed in you and was reflecting on when was the last time he had looked at you in such detail. You were wearing light clothes, because before he arrived you were about to go to sleep, and your face, although as childish as always, looked more tired than before. You had also cut your hair, which was messy around your shoulders and a bit darker in tone.

“And may I know to what I owe your visit? I guess you don't want to have tea” you said to break the silence. The dryness of your words in a certain way was to protect yourself because you never knew how much a sharp tongue like his could hurt you.

"I'm in a job and I need people"

Of course it was going to be due to a job, and of course that was why he had sought you out after so many years. A part of you, tremendously stupid, to tell you the truth, was hoping that during the time your friend was away from Ketterdam some divine clarity would have illuminated him so that he would realize that he had to look for you to repair your relationship and offer at least apologies. But you would have to pay him every kruge in the country for him to do something like that.

"I'm glad you considered me, but I'm sorry I have to decline."

"Why?" he asked immediately, his raspy voice showing annoyance at the refusal.

“Because it happens that you can’t work for opposing sides. At least not at the same time” you replied. Maybe it was due to fatigue, but you swore you saw a slight look of surprise on the man's face when you answered that. Most likely, he had assumed that you would be one of the few people who wouldn’t be on Pekka’s side and therefore a safe option.

“Do you work for Pekka?” he muttered. You knew him well enough to know that he was hurt, you could see it in his posture, in his voice, and especially in his look “After all he did to us?”

"And what did you want him to do?" you said, trying to ignore the fact that he had spoken in the plural. Us “You practically handed us over to him. My options were that or receive a bullet in the forehead."

"I didn’t hand you over to anyone"

"You abandoned us and left us in his hands, it's the same thing" you replied, shrugging. There was so much resentment and pain from never-closed wounds floating in the air that it was hard for him and you to think clearly. “Your vacation in Ravka may have been nice, but things only just went to hell here. So don't you dare judge me by the choices I made” you exclaimed defensively.

You didn't imagine that your first conversation with him after so long would be like this, but unfortunately, things never turned out the way you expected. After all, they were a crook and a spy talking in the dead of night.

"You could get information from him more easily," Kaz concluded, shrugging the same way you did. "And so we sink him from the inside."

"And risk him finding out and killing me?"

“You know that would never happen,” he said firmly “The thing about killing you. I wouldn't allow him” his eyes stared at you almost offended by the lack of trust you had towards him. There was silence for the third time and this time your gaze moved away to focus on anything but him.

"Plus you have this girl you took out of The Menagerie, don't you?" you said in your defense. The one you replaced me with, you wanted to add, but held back "So I don't know what you might need me for" 

"With so many problems going on, I thought it would be better to have as many alliances as possible," he explained to you. You continued without looking at him, with your head still full of worries and sorrows, and when he didn’t receive an answer, he spoke again "You know that it is your best option"

"I don't know that, but I do know that I would have liked you to at least ask how I am before asking me to join the team you never wanted me in and from which you separated me as soon as you had the chance" you exhaled, in an attempt to lighten the weight on your chest. 

It was no secret that you had always felt betrayed by Kaz’s treatment of you, even though he treated dozens of others the same way, because you somehow thought that your backstory was enough to deserve at least the sympathy or some consideration on the part of the crow. And of course you wanted to run from Pekka's clutches and plunge him into the deepest muck, but the resentment for what you considered your friend’s abandonment was stronger. You didn't even know if it was correct to call him ‘friend’.

"You would be a good ace up my sleeve" was all he replied, in an attempt to convince you. Kaz begged absolutely no one, but if there was one thing he had decided before coming to find you, it was that he wouldn't leave until you agreed to help him. Although the nature of your current job made things a bit difficult for him, "Pekka never knew you worked for me, did he?"

"With you" you corrected him "I didn't work for you but with you. We got to The Barrel at the same time”

"Y/N" he murmured. Your name sounded strange coming from his lips after so long without hearing it and that caught you off guard “I'm trying to help you so you don't end up hurt or dead. If you work for… with me, I can tell you where not to be. Otherwise I could find you in the rubble of some confrontation or with a knife from Inej or a bullet from Jesper through your chest”

"Always so thoughtful," you replied with a smirk, but as much as it pained you to admit it, he had a point. You knew what he was capable of and what Pekka was capable of… which side was more convenient to be on? "How much are you going to pay me?" you asked and Kaz smiled, but it wasn't a sign of happiness but mockery “You've always said that's what's really important, haven't you?”

He took something out of his coat and tossed it on the table. They were bills. 

"An advance, when I recover the crow club, I will pay you the rest"

“So my pay depends on whether we win or not. That doesn't sound so convenient to me,” you muttered, clicking your tongue, as you fought the urge to say yes just to be near him. It was cold outside, the rain was making a lot of noise and you just wanted to sleep at once, but you knew that you could have been arguing with him all night and neither of you would back down. Kaz was stubborn, one way or another he would get what he wanted. "This isn't just about the club, is it?" you said, with your voice noticeably lower and you would even say with a touch of softness. You and Kaz never talked about what had happened, but each of you was dealing with the weight of the trauma in your own way. He didn't say anything and this time you saw something in him that was different from his usual behavior, knowing that it was those ghosts from the past tormenting him.

"If someone should make him pay, it's us"

Us, again. 

"I'll think about it" was what you answered, after reflecting on what would be the appropriate response. The speechless moment gave you something else to think about, and you knew that a huge flaw of yours was how easily you let your heart take over. Because even with all the other feelings on top, you still worried about him "Now that the crow club isn't yours..." you started to say, afraid of what he might say "do you have a place to stay?"

You would have offered to sleep there if he said no, but instead he said he’d manage. That didn't completely reassure you, but you decided not to insist.

“First thing tomorrow, send a reply to this address,” he asked you, holding out a piece of paper that had a few drops on it “Don't go there personally or you'll screw everything up, just send me a note. A yes or a no will suffice”

“What if someone tracks down the note?” you asked, which was a totally valid concern.

Kaz was silent while he thought of an alternative, and then spoke again.

“Just write crows of a feather, murder together. I'll understand” he murmured and you nodded. You knew the poem he was quoting from, had read it many times from the worn-out book he had gotten for you. Kaz didn't wait for anything else and took long steps to the door, which he opened as soon as he could. "Good night, Y/N."

And then he left.

That night you thought a lot about the solution you would give him in the morning, thinking about the pros and cons of each possible answer, until you decided that it was best to say yes. You needed to do it if you wanted to live peacefully (as much as the place allowed) but the main reason was to support him. If he had been about any stupid dispute you would have said no, but you knew this was something else. Kaz missed Jordie every day of his life and his way of honoring him was by planning revenge against the one who led him to that fate, so it was kind of an obligation for you to help him with that too.

You wrote the note on a piece of paper and carefully folded it to put it in an envelope. You signed the outside with his name, written in the best handwriting you had, and although you were hesitant to do so, at the end you wrote a little ‘from a friend’ in the hope of making it clear to him, and perhaps even encouraging him that, if he was willing, you could recover a little of what you had lost. And you weren’t referring to physical things, but to what existed between you.

All your life you had lived with almost opposite feelings when it came to Kaz. Somehow you were upset with him for only seeing you as an instrument that he could dispose of for his interests, but this was linked to the feeling of affection that you wanted him to experience for you and that apparently didn’t exist. It was difficult to decipher anything he was thinking, not just about you, since he had taken it upon himself to build such a convincing facade that it made it complicated to see beyond. Added to that was his aversion to touch of any kind, which, while quite understandable and justified, still made you feel sad. More than once you tried, in vain, to be able to touch him in some way, even if it was something tiny, but he always pushed you away. He pushed you away physically and eventually emotionally, and yet with all this background you wanted to help him.

You knew you couldn't expect a reply to your note, but you were confident that he had received it, and your suspicions were confirmed when another letter came back a couple of days later. It contained a day, a time, and a place, which you assumed was a meeting with him.

You were very careful when you headed there, because you thought that the fewer people saw you together, the better, or else Pekka might suspect something. You covered yourself with a long black cloak for this task and when you arrived you noticed that it wasn't Kaz who was there, but a couple of boys.

"Who are you?"

"And you?" you asked, with the same defensive tone. The place seemed to be an experiment workshop and looking at it in more detail you noticed that there was a bed, so it could even be some kind of apartment. The two men, one brown-skinned and the other pale as snow, wore simple brown suits and were looking at you warily.

“She is Y/N,” said a voice behind you. By the sound of the cane accompanied by the footsteps you knew it was Kaz, “she will work with us”

"Oh," said the dark-haired boy, looking happier with the answer, as he walked in your direction "Welcome, in that case" he muttered flirtatiously, as he held out his hand for you to greet him "Jesper Fahey, at your service”

"I am Wylan" intervened the other, from his place, timidly and quickly.

"You arrived" Kaz spoke again. You turned and a couple of women appeared, you guessed that the shorter one with Suli features was the famous wraith of Kaz. And she was beautiful, you couldn't help but notice.

There was a brief conversation with the six of you there and then Kaz asked you to walk him up to the roof of the place. Once there you instinctively stood next to the only one you knew and he just looked at you out of the corner of his eye while he adopted the typical position of him leaning on the cane.

“Brick by brick” whispered the man’s raspy voice and you were about to ask what you were supposed to do there when an explosion went off in the distance so impressively that you stepped back a bit. It didn't take you more than a few seconds to locate the space and realize the place it was.

"The crow club" you said in a low voice, only for the black-haired man to hear you, while you watched him in profile. But he didn't look at you, just exchanged words with the others and talked about how Pekka's apparent reign was coming to an end.

You'd always known that Kaz Brekker was a little unhinged, and that night you proved it for sure, but you weren't even the least bit afraid. Rather, it was some strange hope that this madness would allow you to go far. Even freedom, perhaps.

After that clear declaration of war, things got considerably complicated, especially when you were summoned before Pekka and he asked you to investigate someone in particular and it turned out to be none other than the man you were now secretly working with. You assumed it was something logical, but even so you feared that Rollins had noticed the slight tremor in your hands when he asked you to complete the task.

You summoned Kaz to Black Veil Cemetery, late at night, and there you confessed to him everything that had happened. He of course found something good in this and devised a way to use it to your advantage, which put you at ease. It still amazed you a little at how nervous you became around him as if you knew nothing of what you were doing, but when you regained your composure you thought it was an excellent plan.

Meetings with Kaz were regular, but always in secret and alone, and they worked to exchange information that you considered useful for him with what he would allow Pekka to know.

You didn't know the full plans and you weren't part of them in any way, or you would be found out, but you knew about almost everything that was going on. The attacks, the fights, the traps, the injuries... you had to look at everything from the outside without being able to intervene. It was frustrating for you, more than anything in the world, and you had to admit that you had taken a liking to crows, even if you had seen them only a couple of times, so you also looked after their safety.

One day you received a note and went to a meeting with all the members of his group present, to finally hear the full version of what Kaz intended to do to finish off your boss. It was a brilliant idea, but you were a little worried about your position in all of this.

“You mean I'm going to be there watching everything Pekka and his thugs do?”

"It will be the best" he answered you. His face still had a bruise on his cheek, a memory from the last fight he had, and he looked exhausted "Jesper and Nina will be there, plus you'll be in disguise" he added and you nodded at that.

When the moment came you thought it would be an easy task, but when Kaz started to get brutally beaten you had to muster all your willpower not to throw yourself into trying to face Pekka, even with your zero skill. He sounded so convincing when he said about Alby that even you believed it, feeling suddenly awed by the cynical smile on Kaz's blood-smeared face. And he also mentioned you in the story, although not directly, saying that it was all about revenge for having abandoned you two when you were children.

You were able to breathe again until Pekka and his entire gang left the place in search of a son who wasn't really buried and you four were left alone. Under other circumstances you would have run to Kaz, cupped his face in your hands, sobbed, and told him it was over. But instead, you just stood in front of him and watched him; his eyes were wild with fury and a thirst for revenge that had already been quenched, but you sensed a hint of calm when he became aware of your presence.

"Breathe," you said in a whisper. Jesper and Nina were dismayed by the closeness with which you spoke to him, as they knew little of your history together “You're fine. We all are,” you assured him. That situation took you back to multiple panic attacks in the past where, given the impossibility of physical contact, all you could do for him was talk to calm him down. It always worked and Kaz had forgotten how soft your voice was and the way you brought him back to the real world. You decided to risk trying to do something else to comfort him and cautiously stretched out your hand towards him, instantly seeing his eyes widen in terror. But your hand ended up landing, more like a touch than a squeeze, on the man's bicep, which was covered by his coat; it wasn't intrusive, or abrupt, and Kaz was surprised that he didn't feel anything negative about it. He looked at your hand and then he looked at you with that usual serious expression, but he didn't push you away and allowed you to stay that way for just a few seconds, after which you decided to move your limb back.

You didn’t receive a verbal response at any time, but you did see him exhale shakily (so softly that you barely noticed) and nod his head while still looking at you, as if he were letting go of a huge weight that was stuck in his chest and at the same time assure you that it felt like a victory. Victory for beating Pekka, victory because he wasn't engulfed by an attack when you touched him, and victory because somehow you were there. You were with him, again.

“Now can we go back to normal?” Jesper asked, to break the silence, and you felt like laughing. Have they ever had a normal life? you asked yourself, but you didn't say.

"Yes" was all Kaz said and taking one last look at you he began to walk in the direction of the exit.

Both of them were curious about the type of relationship you had with Kaz but neither thought it wise to ask at the time, although Nina was getting an idea of things thanks to your racing heartbeat and his that it was impossible not to hear a moment ago. You stayed there just long enough to have a drink with Jesper and then you left the Emerald Palace. You didn't want to go back home, but going with one of them didn't seem like an option either, and once you were on the street you felt worried about remembering the state the black-haired man had left. You trusted that by that time he would be calmer and as if they thought for themselves your legs began to walk to look for him.

It was cold again and you feared you would meet someone dangerous on the road, but you only saw a couple of drunks and a girl looking for clients. Until you were in front of the door, you wondered if it was a good idea to go in, thinking that you would probably be crossing a line that Kaz was not going to allow you to, and wondering if you were going to put up with his refusal, which was a pretty good chance.

With trembling hands you opened the door, which luckily was unlocked, and as if some unknown instinct were guiding you, you found Kaz's room; it was the only one from which light came out through the crack in the door and something told you that he was there. You knocked twice, fearing you had knocked so low that he hadn't heard, and even considered walking back the way you came, but didn't have time to as the door opened a few seconds later. He had already taken off his coat and vest, probably because they were stained with blood, and his black shirt was open at the top buttons, with the suspenders that held up his pants hanging on his thighs. But what caught your attention the most were his pale, gloveless hands.

"What do you need?" he asked you directly. His face looked worse now that the bruises had swollen and the blood was dry. He'd probably have them for a couple of days, and he was definitely going to have a scar over his eyebrow.

"I wanted to see you" you replied, instantly regretting not having considered your sincere words better "I mean... to see how you were" you tried to correct. You thought he would slam the door in your face, but instead he scooted to the side to let you in, then closed the door behind you with a soft click.

Again you felt alien to the place for a moment, thanks to the fact that he looked at you from head to toe as if your presence bothered him. You had to mentally remind yourself that he saw most of them that way.

“Your pay will be ready soon”

"That doesn't matter," you said softly. Several things had changed since the first conversation you had with him, because now that you knew why Kaz had done everything he had done and the traumatic memories returned to both of you, the money had taken a backseat.

You didn't say anything for a moment and you looked for a place where you could sit later. Kaz’s room, once painted green but now just damp walls, had a small bed by the window, a desk littered with papers and a lamp facing another window, with a simple bookcase placed on the top of the side wall; a nightstand, a place to wash your hands with a mirror above it, a circular table in the middle of the free space, and a single armchair that at least looked comfortable. It wasn't the prettiest place, but at least it was cozy.

"Your girl, did she leave?"

“Inej is not my girl. Or from anyone, she is free now” he answered you. He still wasn't looking at you and you noticed that he was having a hard time staying on his feet.

"I'm glad to hear it. She deserves it” you murmured sincerely. You thought that she would be important to Kaz, like all his partners, and you decided to venture out to see if he revealed something else to you. "She's very smart."

"She is"

"And she's pretty too" you added and without moving his head he looked out at yours. You felt as if he was reading your intentions through your eyes, a quality he had always had.

"I think so," he said without much interest.

"Are you very hurt?" you asked, changing the subject, as you took a step towards him. By inertia he took the same step, in the opposite direction, and that made you stop abruptly.

"Nothing to worry about" he exclaimed and though he thought, you couldn't have known, of course, get close to you, you decided to take that step back before he did anything else. 

"Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm"

"What did I do to make you walk away?" you exclaimed, finally expressing a question that had been eating away at your chest and tormenting you for many nights in a row. And since there was silence, you spoke again: “Not like right now, but a long time ago. It's just… I never understood it. Before we were friends and for me… you were even like a family. I loved your brother too and I know losing him never affected us the same, but I was glad you were there for me after that. Then we got older and things got more difficult, but I still had you and that calmed me down. And then… we just drifted apart,” you muttered, shrugging, as you avoided his gaze. Kaz still didn't answer anything and you felt the obligation to fill the silence “Sometimes I remember the things we went through when we were young. The good ones, of course. Like that time we stole a cake to celebrate your birthday and it was probably the best sweet I've ever eaten” you commented, smiling at the memory "And when I made you laugh with my bad jokes, no matter how angry or sad you were... I haven't seen you smile for a long time and I don't know if you celebrate your birthday anymore” you reflected wistfully, almost as if you were talking to yourself. And well, in the face of Kaz's inexpressiveness, that's practically what you were doing.

He hadn't said anything yet and you concluded that all your effort was useless. It had been a mistake to go looking for him, as well as trying to get even the slightest proof that he had ever missed you and you wished you had never opened your mouth. You sighed to contain the urge to cry and without saying anything else you turned towards the exit, intending to leave and return only for your money, but Kaz's voice echoed. 

"Do you remember what I told Pekka?"

You stopped.

“You told him many things, you will have to be more specific”

"About not loving anything" he replied. Your hand trembled on the doorknob at the mere thought of what he was implying and I was able to hear your racing heart pounding in your chest. You heard footsteps and, still without moving, you heard him speak again "That's why I drifted apart”

You never, even in your wildest dreams, imagined that he would say something like that to you and perhaps you were just deluding yourself with the implication of the words, but it was enough to make you freeze in place.

"I still don't understand how that relates to me” you expressed in a low voice. Kaz took a few more steps towards you until you could see his shadow mingling with yours and you felt it was time to turn. He was watching you from above, seriously.

"I didn't want…" he trailed off. You would almost say he was nervous “I didn't want you to be…”

"A weak spot," you said without thinking, followed by a sigh that sounded almost amused "That's your problem, Kaz," you continued, your gaze far across the room, "You think love is a person's greatest weakness, when it's not like that"

"It is not?"

"No" you exclaimed with determination "I believe that... many times love is what keeps us alive. Struggling"

You were speaking for yourself when you said this. What was your motivation every day? In the past, the love for Kaz. Now, it was love for yourself and the hope that one day someone could love you with the intensity with which you loved others.

“I had already lost Jordie. I didn't want to lose you too,” he finally said and that's when your eyes locked with his. You never thought he would verbally express something like that.

“And did you prefer that I lose you?" you whispered in pain. You wanted him to be aware of things, because it seemed like it had never crossed his mind to stop thinking about your well-being and start thinking about your feelings. “You don't just lose someone when they die, Kaz. You can also lose those who are fully alive”

He didn't say anything, because he clearly didn't know what to answer to that, and while he reflected on your words, you caught a glimpse of a certain vulnerability in his blue eyes that you had rarely seen. I couldn't say that you knew the man in front of you better than anyone, but you had a considerable advantage thanks to the years you had lived with him.

“Okay, just… listen” you started to say, knowing he most likely wouldn't give you an answer “I know it's hard to live as we do— as all of us at The Barrel live, but the risks I decide or don't take. They are my decision, not yours. These years you have sought to keep me out of danger and I appreciate it, but you have to learn to trust me”

"I do. I trust you"

"Then show me," you replied. You couldn't help noticing that, even with his stained face, Kaz was still the most handsome man you'd ever seen “Friends do not avoid each other, nor do they move away and despite that, during all these years I have trusted you as from the first moment we were left alone”

You didn't know if you were saying the right thing, but at least you were saying something.

"And if it's too late?"

It was too late? Kaz wondered. He wondered if it was too late to open up to someone, to try to get over his trauma, to let go and finally love you the way he wanted to.

But all this remained as a thought, phrases that couldn’t leave his throat.

“It's not for me,” you assured him. “But my patience won't last forever. I think you should know that”

You couldn't even imagine how many emotions Kaz was trying to process at that moment, but even he himself didn't understand what a mess you'd made of him with that conversation. From his perception, he had admitted that he loved you, but from his eyes, you didn't seem affected by it. And you, contrary to what he thought, felt like you were going to faint.

You were about to leave, for the second time, but he spoke:

“Stay,” he said, sounding more desperate than he would have liked. “I don't know what to say, but… just stay here. I don't want us to be alone tonight”

Us. That fucking habit of Kaz's to speak in the plural and make you a nervous wreck.

You looked at the bed and found that it was too small for both of you, to which we had to add his refusal to be close to others. Proof of this was the unconscious movement of sticking your hands as close as possible to his body during the entire time you were talking.

"Use the bed, obviously you need it more than me" you muttered and went directly to the armchair. Fortunately your first impression wasn’t wrong, it was very comfortable.

The room was so small that the apparent distance between the pieces of furniture didn't mean much, so when he sat on the bed you could see him perfectly.

The memory of one of the times when both of you were in similar situations came to your mind. That night you had been woken by frightened screams from the next room, in that abandoned house where you and Kaz found shelter, forcing you out of bed to investigate.

It was hard to comfort a person without physically touching them, especially when he had nightmares, and over the months you'd had to get used to it. The boy hated waking you up, it made him feel guilty and stupid, but you always kept him company. You never spoke, never asked questions, you just stayed there so he knew he wasn't alone.

Maybe something like that was what Kaz needed tonight. 

"Rest" you exclaimed. His head turned to look at you and you detected a different and special glow in his eyes; as if it were a mixture of fear, softness, and gentleness. You appreciated that look for a few more seconds, which you feared you would never see again in your life, and then you reached out your hand to turn off the light on the desk.

Silence reigned in the darkness.

You settled in the chair, trying to figure out what would be the best sleeping position, and at the same time you heard Kaz slide between the sheets on the bed. After a while, your eyelids felt heavy, a consequence of the fatigue that the hustle and bustle of the day had left you, and when you were about to fall asleep, a voice pulled you out of your reverie.

"Thank you. For everything”

The phrase was a whisper, a delicate caress in your ear, but you understood it clearly. And you decided to think that when Kaz said 'for everything' he meant literally everything you had selflessly done for him during his life; like he just realized you were important. But it's not that he had just noticed it, but that he had just accepted it.

You wanted to stretch out the moment as long as you could because, even if you weren't looking at him, you knew he was awake thanks to the sound of his breathing, but at some point sleep overcame you and you fell fast asleep.

Kaz had nightmares that night, like always, but the difference was that when he woke up in shock in the morning, you were in the same room. So seeing you there, keeping him company, was reason enough to calm him down.

And like every time this had happened, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

[teambyler]

New Mil*ven footage: There's a reason they get interrupted (Byler analysis)

Whoever posted this new footage said they're "not breaking up" because El is smiling?

That's presumptuous of you ;)

Source

Maybe they're not breaking up in THIS scene. Or maybe they are, and making clear that things are alright between them. It's possible to be on good terms with someone you break up with. (Shocker!) And even crack a smile while you're wishing the other the best.

One really can't conclude either way. The body language does suggest honesty between them though. (Something not seen in s4.) But that honesty could be about anything.

WHAT'S MORE IMPORTANT IS THAT WE GET THE INTERRUPTION TROPE LOL:

If you ask me, this is CONFIRMATION that not everything's sunny in Mileven land. This is not a "will they or won't they?" interruption of a kiss, because they're already a canon couple. No, this is something closer to the Pineapple Pizza Interruption scene(TM) where SOMETHING the audience is WAITING to be said is NOT said:

In s4, the GA was supposed to think Mike was going to say "I love you." (Or perhaps he was going to call it off after thinking the painting was from Will? Can't say for sure.) POINT BEING: the Interruption Trope is a writing device to tease something, only to deny it. The purpose of it is to set up an IMPORTANT conflict/tension in the story that will be resolved later.

(EDIT: After writing all this I realize that there's another time interruptions happen: AFTER a scene achieves resolution. Will and Mike had one of these in 4x4 with "It looks like it'll be up to us again." "It always is, isn't it?" and Jonathan barges in. For Mike and El, the Painting Lie still needs resolution and is almost certainly related to this conversation. So everything I say here might actually not get interrupted and is actually SAID, leading to a new phase in their relationship. I just think it's less likely because any frank discussion of the Painting Lie makes a Byler conclusion too obvious. Okay, on to the likelier theory!)

Now what is this NEW unspoken thing between Mike and El? Season 4 was all about Mike being unable to say "I love you" to El. And now he has already SAID IT. On paper -- what Milevens call "canon" -- the Mileven relationship is fine and healthy.

So why prepare the audience for a NEW development in their relationship if it's not a breakup, or at least an emotional confession of some kind that threatens the last canon development that made everything "fine"?

The Painting Lie is Chekhov's gun. If this scene is indeed early in s5 (there are very few scenes with Mike and El together in the s5 teaser, perhaps she's with Mike only at the start of the season), then there's very little time for the writers to prepare something ELSE "waiting to be said" that is NOT related to the Painting Lie.

So what is being interrupted? Is it:

Mike asking if she commissioned the painting?

El saying she didn't commission it and telling Mike she thinks Will loves him?

Mike has realized the painting was from Will and is about to confess he doesn't know how he feels about him?

One of them is initiating a breakup?

WHATEVER IT IS, the Painting Lie challenges the stability of Mileven because it was core to the Pizza Freezer Confession(TM) that was supposed to tie up Mileven in a neat bow at the end of s4. The moment the Painting Lie is mentioned, this tells the GA that not everything will stay the same between Mike, El, and Will.

By the time Mike and El get interrupted, (1) the audience has already been made to expect something to come to light between them (likely related to the Painting Lie), and (2) resolution of this plot point will not happen right away and is IMPORTANT to s5.

That's because Stranger Things follows nearly 100% of all TV/movie writing in following a three-act structure. The start of each season sets up the conflicts and character motivations that drive the rest of the season. (Just as the first episodes of s4 set up El's "problem" of feeling like she's the monster and why she went on a journey of self-discovery.)

It's hard to imagine the writers setting up Round THREE of Mike struggling to say "I love you" to El. No, what's being interrupted is the next development, which has to do with the Painting Lie and its ramifications for Mike, Will, and El.

Add to this the fact that all the teasers we're getting suggest that El is separated from Mike and most of the others for some chunk of the season. What's left unsaid between them might remain unsaid. And we know that Mike and Will are side-by-side much of this season. (As promised, Mike said they will "be a team.")

Which begs the question: WHAT is interrupted between Mike and El, and what is it setting up plot-wise? Is it something whose RESOLUTION involves multiple scenes of Mike ALONE with the boy who canonically loves him and made the painting that made him feel so wonderful? Someone who Mike confessed he REALLY missed and Hawkins "isn't the same" without him?

The conflict's GOT to have something to do with Mike's feelings for Will. It FAR surpasses any other possibility, given how much set-up there has been for it.

Another plot point for season 5: on Will's end, he still hasn't come out of the closet. Doesn't part of his "emotional arc" have to include coming out to his BEST FRIEND? This is probably set up in the first episode, also.

That, together with the interruption of Mike and El, helps prime the GA to look at every scene with Mike and Will, reading every interaction and figuring out what will happen between these 2 best friends who have never lied to each other, until now. We'll even see a flashback of when they were younger. How their relationship changes after the inevitable revelations is central to s5.

The ENTIRE SEASON will be the Interruption Trope for Mike and Will, while they confront the full danger of Vecna together. It will be "the painting tucked away in Will's backpack" times a hundred.

-teambyler

(My own theory of how Byler will culminate, in case you haven't seen it!)

[mythunderstorm]

Angie gets a mom | MS47

mick schumacher x fem!reader

word count: 980

summary: Mick loves you. Angie loves you. Time to make you her mom officially.

warnings: none?? maybe one swear word lol

masterlist

It is summer break for Formula 1 and after months you guys are finally visiting your parents in your hometown again.

The weather is currently not really summer-ish, it’s cloudy, not too hot and sometimes it rains a bit but you don’t mind. It reminded you of autumn, a season which you dearly loved so the combination of your favorite season and being able to spend lots of time with Mick was absolutely amazing.

You’re awoken by the sound of wind blowing, taking a look at the clock you realize it’s still early. Too early to get up, you decide, so you move closer to your boyfriend hugging him tight. Spending time with Mick is probably your favorite activity, no matter what you guys are doing. Soon, the second half of the season begins so you have to cherish every moment with your lovely boyfriend.

You’re almost back in the land of dreams, when suddenly you can feel soft tapping against your leg. Turning your head you spot Angie, trying to get your attention.

„Oh Angie, you wanna come cuddle?“ you say while making room for her to squeeze between you and Mick. „Good Girl, come here.“ You adored cuddling with Angie, she was just so soft and sweet.

„I think at this point she might love you more than she loves me.“ Mick suddenly says, after letting out a yawn.

„Oh sorry baby, did we wake you?“ you say, ignoring what Mick just said.

„No, it’s okay. I love waking up next to may favorite girls.“ he says, kissing you on the forehead. You only smile, enjoying this calm morning with your loved ones.

About half an hour later Angie gets a bit restless, a sign that it’s time for her morning walk. After brushing your teeth and changing your clothes into something that’s appropriate for the weather, you and Mick start walking to the small forest near your childhood home. Your parents were still sound asleep when you guys left, so you wrote them a note, telling where you and Mick went incase they wake up.

„I love this. I wish we could go on walks like this every morning.“ Mick suddenly says, making you lean more into his side.

„I‘d love that too baby, but you love your job aswell. And now walks like this are something special, so enjoy it and look forward to our next visit here“ you smile, kissing his cheek. Mick signs, he knows you’re right. He loves racing and he loves working for Mercedes but most importantly he loves you. So he only gives you a quick kiss on the lips, enjoying this moment like you said.

Angie enjoys it too, she’s running around, taking in all the different smells but is still staying close to you two. Her excitement makes you giggle.

„Anything funny sweetheart?“ Mick absolutely loves your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he has ever heard.

„I‘m just happy that Angie is enjoying herself so much.“ you say in a gentle voice. „Sometimes i feel like she’s our firstborn, just my little baby which I want to be happy and pleased at all times.“

Mick can only stare at you. He loves you so much, it’s insane. Hearing you say that makes him even crazier about actually starting a family with you. And now is the perfect timing to do the first step.

He already asked your father. It was really important for Mick to have your dad’s blessing and after he said that it would make him the happiest dad ever to have Mick as his son in law, the young Schumacher thought everyday about the perfect moment to pop the question.

And now, seeing you so happy, enjoying this calm morning walk with Angie while holding his hand, rambling about nature and how much you love being here with him, he knew. He knew this was the moment.

You, being blissfully unaware about what’s going on in your boyfriends head, continued walking and rambling about everything that came to your mind until you realized that Mick stopped. Turning around you looked at him with a questioning look, tilting your head. „Everything okay, Micky?“

Mick just looked at you, his eyes being so full of love and adoration that you started to blush under this intense gaze. He took one step towards you, until he slowly started to get down on one knee.

„Oh my god…“ you mumble, tears starting to form in your eyes.

Mick smiles. „Darling, you’re my home“, he starts. „I love you more than life itself and I can’t believe that I managed to get a girl like you. You are absolutely perfect, perfect for me. I don’t deserve the love you give me everyday but I am willing to show you for the rest of our lives how much I love and appreciate you. You‘re the perfect mom for Angie and the perfect wife for me. Soo..“ Mick clears his throat briefly, the tears that formed in his eyes are now rolling freely over his cheeks. „y/n/n, will you marry me?“ your boyfriend (for now) asks, fishing a dark blue velvet box from his pocket, showing you the most beautiful ring you‘ve ever seen.

You are absolutely baffled. You would have never expected this to happen today, maybe someday, but not today. But you know your answer, you knew you wanted to marry Mick two month into your relationship.

Happily you throw yourself into his arms, kissing him all over his face while mumbling „yes, yes, yes“ between kisses. Mick laughs, hugging you close. „I love you Micky, oh my god I- fuck I‘m speechless!“ you giggle, while more tears are streaming down both your faces.

„Now you’re going to be Angies Mom officially“ Mick quips, making you even happier.

You’re going to marry the love of your life.

[sammy-is-not-smiley]

Let It Hurt (Pt 2)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader (afab)

Summary: Steve has been your best friend for years despite his douchery in early high school. You would tell him anything... well, anything except for the fact that you've been feeling his physical pain since elementary school. The way he finds out is less than ideal. But he's been keeping secrets of his own...

Word Count: 5.2k (I went nuts lol)

Warnings/Tags: Soulmate au (kinda), language, no use of (y/n), depictions of severe pain, depictions of torture, injuries mentioned, crying, kind of a breakdown, angst, a period is mentioned so reader is afab, set in season 3, soulmates to lovers, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort (yes there's eventually comfort this time, I promise)

A/N: GOOD GOD Y'ALL I did not expect the last one to absolutely blow up. I've gained like an extra 100 followers from all this so thank you so much. I wouldn't have written something so loved if I hadn't gotten a request. If you have an idea you wanna entrust me to write, don't hesitate to jump in my asks! I love hearing from people. (p.s. angst is my favorite to write) Now here's your part 2!

Part 1: Right Here!

You awoke to echoes of screaming. You didn't want to open your eyes, the light in the room behind your eyelids was already making your head throb with a vengeance.

"Help!! Someone, help!" Robin's desperate voice rang out, the sound bouncing off the walls and judding into your skull. It was then you realized you were sat up, straps compressing your legs, arms, and chest. You were bound even more than before.

"Hey, would you stop yellin'?" You heard Steve's voice grumble behind you.

It took you a moment to register it was him, but when you did, a small light of hope lit up in your chest. You lifted your head up slightly, trying to take in a breath. The pain in your head stemmed down your neck now. In fact, it encapsulated your entire skull.

"Steve! Oh my god," Robin exclaimed, still a bit too loud for your taste.

"Steve?" You croaked out.

"Oh my god! Oh my god, you're both awake," She chuckled slightly, simply out of disbelief. "Both awake. Um, are- are you okay?"

You shook your head no as if she could see from where she sat behind you.

Steve took in a breath. "My ears are ringing, I can't really breathe, and my eye feels like it's about to pop out of my skull…"

"That checks out," You muttered, not intending for anyone to hear. Nobody seemed to.

"But you know, apart from that… I'm doing pretty good." He finished, his nose sounding stuffy. They really liked hitting his nose.

Robin let out a breath. "Alright, well, the good news is they're calling a doctor for you both."

There was a moment of silence before Steve registered her words. "Both?" You felt him turn slightly in your direction. "They hurt you?"

"No," You quickly replied.

"Wait, I thought-"

"Robin, shush," You snapped too loud, making your head throb again.

It was silent once more as Robin connected the dots. Steve didn't know, and you didn't want him to know. "Right, no, I meant… I meant just for you Steve."

"They didn't hurt me," You tried to reinforce. "Robin's just… tired."

"Oh." He uttered, clearly confused.

"Hey, guys," Robin changed the subject. "I have an idea. Steve, you see that table to your right?"

You felt Steve turn his head to your side.

"No, your other right."

"Oh," Steve looked the other way. Apparently the table was behind where you sat.

"You see those scissors?"

"Uh-huh."

"I think if we moved at the same time, we could move over there, I could maybe kick the table, and knock them into my lap."

You snorted, turning your head in her direction. "They left scissors in here with us?"

"What morons," Steve laughed. He was definitely letting on that he was doing better than he felt.

At the count of three, you all scooched in unison, Steve and Robin to their side, you backwards. Just as you finally were seeing some light at the end of the tunnel, only a mere few feet from the table, you all over shot your momentum. All together as a unit, the chairs slid out from under you and you all fell to the floor with a hefty clank of the chairs.

At first you groaned, but then a grin slowly spread across your face. "Shit," You giggled with no choice but to look up at the ceiling as you laid on your back. This was all insane. Absolutely insane.

Robin was obviously feeling the same as she began giggling as well. She shook under you, small squeaks bubbling from her.

"You- You guys okay?" Steve asked, clearly not gathering what could be so funny to you both.

"This is fucking ridiculous," You half suppressed a laugh.

You felt Robin nodding. "I can't believe I'm gonna die in a secret Russian base in a sailor costume." You could hear the smile on her face, jovial despite the situation. The comment only made you laugh harder.

Just as your giggles died down, the door burst open once again and men flooded the room. Your giddy moods were cut short, instantly replaced with terror. Over you now stood a man in uniform, obviously some sort of high ranking official, probably the man in charge. He towered over you, shaking his head and tutting.

"You wake up too, eh? Good," He smirked, looking over the predicament you three had gotten yourselves into. "Where did you think you were going?"

He gestured with his hand, motioning the men in the room to lift you all back upright in your chairs.

"P-please-" You nearly whimpered when sat back up, nothing on your mind but to simply beg. What for, you weren't sure yet, but you were scared and desperate.

"Let us try again," The man said, ignoring your plea. Slowly, he circled around you all, like a predator observing prey, before making it back around to Steve.

Your eyes followed the man as he brought his hand up and thumbed Steve's busted lip. Not only did it elicit a wince from Steve, but you as well.

Your stomach dropped as soon as it happened, making you quickly turn your head away from the man hoping he didn't notice. However, the tingling on your neck told you he had, and he was staring right at you.

"Don't touch him," You breathed. It came out a lot less menacing than you intended.

The man hummed, standing up straight again and murmured something in Russian to one of the men. You watched as the guard walked over to Steve, grabbing him by the hair and raising a fist.

"Wait, stop!" You jolted, fighting against your restraints.

Steve struggled as well, gritting his teeth. "No, no, no, no-"

"Shush!" The general yelled, driving a spike of pain into your skull. He leaned down in front of you, eyes squinted, analyzing you for a moment. Then a question. "Who do you work for?"

"Scoops Ahoy," You responded like it was obvious.

Without hesitation, the guard over Steve delivered a swift blow to the eye socket. You yelped in pain as Steve groaned, now being held up by his hair. You on the other hand were allowed to drop your head, once again tasked with withstanding the pain.

Your breath stuttered in your throat. "Please, s-stop, it… It hurts…"

The general tilted his head, then grasped your chin roughly, tilting your head up and tilting from side to side as he examined you. There were no notable injuries on your person. Other than squinting the same eye as Steve's bruised one, not a scratch was on you. You wanted to kick yourself when you realized he took notice of it, glancing between you and Steve.

His brow was together in thought as he once again gave a command you didn't understand.

Another punch to Steve's jaw made you flinch in the general's hand, pitifully letting out a sob.

Another command, another punch, right into Steve's aching ribs.

If not for the straps holding you upright, you would have once again doubled over. Instead you only moved slightly against the mans hand, your abdomen visibly tensing.

"Stop! Stop it, you bastards!" Robin screamed, however to no avail as she was promptly ignored.

The general let you go as you silently suffered again, standing upright and smiling down at you. "Very interesting…"

The men scattered around the room as soon as another command was uttered from the man's mouth. Hands surrounded you all as the men tugged and removed the straps holding you as a unit only to strap you down again, individually in each of your chairs this time. They pushed Robin into the corner of the room, then grabbed Steve and slid him in front of you to face you. Only then did you see the extent of his wounds. Dried blood smeared on his face from an obvious nose bleed, uniform stained red, his eye a deep shade of purple and nearly swollen shut. Anger bubbled over inside you at the sight, making you finally find your voice.

"Don't touch him, he's had enough!"

The general simply smiled at you as he pulled a red handkerchief from his pocket, then circled around behind you.

The last thing you saw was Steve, worry written all over his face. Then you were shrouded in darkness as the handkerchief was pulled over your eyes, secured at the back of your head.

"What are you doing?" Steve panted as he watched. "Don't you dare hurt her, I swear, if you do anything to her-"

"Oh, not to worry," The man behind you interrupted dismissively. You could hear his footsteps walking around you back to Steve. Your teeth began to chatter as your adrenaline was surely hitting its peak now.

What did they not want you to see?

"We will not hurt her. Only you will."

"What-"

"Just sit. Watch your friend carefully, hm?"

It was silent for a moment before there were footsteps again, then Steve burst to life. "What is that? Wait, no, stop, get that away- Agh!"

Pain instantly webbed over two of your fingers as if they were slowly being crushed by a tool. You fought your restraints and flexed the hand in question, small whimpers emitting from you helplessly.

The pain gradually got worse as Steve yelled and begged, as did you. Then it steadied to a single ongoing pain. "Stop-" A cry slipped from you.

"Where is the pain, little one?" The man called over to you.

You shook your head, mostly in confusion, but the man interpreted it as resistance.

The pain fluctuated, making you lurch. "Agh- Th-the hand! His fingers, the first two fingers," You sobbed in defeat. "Stop, stop, please stop, make it stop…"

The pain was relieved then, if only enough to assure you they weren't going to break Steve's fingers. The ache of a bruise would remain and you flexed your hand again as if it would help. You still let out a sigh of relief.

Light stung your eyes when the blindfold was pulled off, now soaked with tears. When your eyes adjusted, you looked up to meet the half swollen gaze of Steve. Realization, hurt, sympathy, horror, all of it was draped over his face like a thick veil as he stared back at you. You looked down and saw the red impressions on his fingers from whatever had been clamped down on them. Next to him stood a man in white, a metal tool held in his hand.

The general stood there, holding Steve's head up by the hair to watch you. The man's grin was borderline psychotic. "Congratulations, you were correct."

You closed your eyes and lowered your head, teeth still chattering. The jolly expression on the official's face told you he planned on using this new information completely against you. Especially the longer you overstayed your welcome.

The man in power looked over to the man in the white overcoat, the man you assumed was supposed to be the doctor Robin mentioned. Another command in Russian, and the doctor walked to the table behind you. You couldn't bring yourself to look up at anyone, especially Steve.

"Now, try telling the truth this time, yes?" The general asserted as he wandered his eyes over each one of you. They pulled Robin up next to you both again. "It will make your visit with Doctor Zharkov less painful."

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Your body swayed slightly before you let yourself lean back onto the side of the ambulance, watching the smoke rise. The mighty Starcourt was completely destroyed. Destroyed by a-… Well, you had yet to fully comprehend what it was and the events that had even transpired. All you were able to understand clearly was that you were alive, along with a couple adults, a group of middle schoolers, and your co-workers…. Could you technically call them co-workers now? Maybe just leaving it to friends was safer to say.

Your stomach was still a little queasy from whatever drug that doctor had injected you with, and your muscles ached from overexertion. Your eyes were so heavy they felt swollen, yet you knew if you laid down, sleep wouldn't come to you easily. Watching the last remaining flames and the smoke ahead of you was mesmerizing. Like you were sleeping with your eyes open.

The moment was broken as your face twitched a little in pain. Steve must have accidentally scratched his stitches again.

You hadn't looked at him since you all threw up in the bathrooms together. In fact, once you were sober, you had walked out claiming to need another drink of water from the fountain. After that, events happened so quickly you could hardly keep up. You were grateful at the time to have had something to distract you both with. Even now you were trying to distract yourself.

Bringing your hand up to your face you rubbed your forehead, a headache still refusing to leave you and Steve be. You'd come to accept that the pain probably wouldn't subside for a while.

Robin rounded the ambulance, wrapped in a security blanket. Her eyes were still red and it was clear she needed sleep as badly as you. Yet there you both were, still up and running.

"Hey… They look over you already?" Her voice was more gravely than usual, most likely from all the yelling she had done while you all were held hostage.

You nodded, still gazing at the wrecked mall. "Other than a couple bruises, I'm fine."

"Mm-hm," She hummed, clearly unconvinced.

"What?"

She rested her shoulder on the ambulance, leaning in closer. "Look… I don't fully understand a lot of what's happened, but I do think you need to talk to Steve. At least before we go home."

You sighed begrudgingly. You knew that was probably what you should do, yet all you wanted to do was hide from him. "What would I even say, Rob?" You mumbled.

She snorted then, causing you to look at her. "Dude, all you'd probably have to say to him is 'hi' before he'd do all the talking. He always has shit to talk about."

It was your turn to snort. "Yeah, sure…" You sniffled then, guilt blossoming in your chest. "It's… It's because of me they hurt him more…"

"Yeah… I-I mean no!" She caught herself, making you smile. "That all was just…. It was…. A lot. What was all that? With the Russians I mean, and the blindfold?"

By this point, and with everything you had gone through together, you thought Robin could handle what you've kept to yourself for so long. After all, your empathy with Steve was by far the tamest secret of the night.

You let your head rest back on the ambulance and closed your eyes. "I've been able to feel his pain ever since I was a kid," You let out in a breath.

When it was silent for longer than you liked, you looked to her worriedly. She was simply staring at you, looking as though she were thinking.

"You can feel his pain? Like, all of it?"

You nodded. "Physical, yeah."

It took her a moment more, hugging herself in the blanket as she thought. "That…. Makes sense actually." She snapped her fingers and pointed. "That's why they did that stuff, they tested you!"

You nodded, a shadow of gloom over your brow.

"And that's…. Why you passed out. Because he passed out."

Another nod.

"And he doesn't know, does he?"

You couldn't help but give a grin then, not one of joy, but more out of nihilism. "Of course not."

"And why, exactly?"

"I don't know, I just…. Got into the habit of keeping it from him. I think in general I was just scared. Scared I would scare him away or make life harder somehow." You hugged yourself, finding it hard to look at even Robin now. "I couldn't lose him… or bear him not believing me."

Robin began giggling, catching you off guard.

"What?"

She shook her head, dragging a hand down her tired face in exasperation. "I seriously doubt he would do any of that, especially after tonight. Also, you weren't in the bathroom when he talked about you."

"Talked about me?"

"Mm-hm," She nodded. "You're not the only one keeping secrets."

Your eyes widened and you pushed yourself off the ambulance. "The hell does that mean?"

"Nope, no more," She put her hands up defensively, "I wash my hands of this, I'm not enabling you any further."

"Oh, come on, Rob-"

"No! The only way you'll get more is if you talk to him yourself," She smirked. "Or do I have to actually drag you over there?" Her thumb thrown over her shoulder, she pointed to Steve in the neighboring ambulance, speaking with the paramedic. For the first time you looked past her to gaze at Steve, his shoulders sagged as he had an arm wrapped around his abdomen. You could feel the bruised ribs he was cradling.

You looked back at Robin, giving her a small pout. She returned it, although much more sarcastically. Simultaneously, you both broke out in smiles and giggles.

"You're a dick," You said, shaking your head.

"Only when you guys are idiots."

You rolled your eyes, turning to glance at Steve again. This time you caught him already looking at you, swollen eye and all. He raised his hand ever so slightly to offer a tiny wave, as if he were scared he would drive you away again.

You gave a tiny wave back.

"Fine," You muttered, walking past Robin and making your way over to him, eyes trained in the ground.

From this angle, the police car lights flickered blue and red over Steve's face, almost hiding the fact he was covered in purple bruises. Slowly you slipped next to him, sitting on the bumper between the open doors. Loose gravel crunched under your feet on the asphalt.

"Hi…"

"Hey…"

A shiver ran up your spine, but you weren't sure if it was from the breeze or your nerves.

"So, uh, Robin said I should talk to you."

He nodded, a single strand of grimy hair bouncing to his forehead. "Yeah, she told me to talk to you too."

You blew a puff of air out of your nose in a laugh. "Was that when you wouldn't stop talking about me in the bathrooms?"

Steve let out a laugh then, scratching the back of his head. "She told you what I said, huh?"

"Nah. Only that you said stuff. She left me on a cliffhanger just to get me to come over and talk to you," You dryly chuckled.

"Hm," He replied, "So you were kind of ignoring me after we got out."

You grimaced, looking down at your beat up shoes. "Yeah… Look, I'm sorry, I really didn't wan-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" He interjected, turning to look right at you.

"... Tell you...?"

He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. "That you can feel this," He lifted his arm and pinched it.

Your hand balled into a fist at the pain and you looked away. Why were you still so scared? Why did you still feel so shameful about all of this?

"You figured that out, huh?"

Steve shifted himself closer, close enough now that your shoulders were touching. "I'm not upset, okay? I just…" He sighed. "It's all so crazy. How long have you been able to feel it— When I hurt?"

You chuckled lightly. "A while. Since like elementary school."

"Shit," His hand reached out and grasped yours. "Look, if I had known, I would've-"

"I know-"

"No, you don't," He turned himself to you, bare knee bumping yours. "You really don't know. You don't know how much I would have done differently. How much more I would've cared, how I would have treated you better, how I would have… How I would have stood up to my dad somehow…" He paused, then cleared his throat. "I wouldn't have thrown myself into fights as much if I knew you were out there feeling everything, thinking you couldn't say a thing about it. If I had known, I would've realized you understood me more than literally anyone I've ever met."

You could feel your nose begin to tingle, a clear warning of tears threatening to bubble up. You pursed your lips, not trusting yourself to reply.

Steve scooched even closer, his knee now pulled up and resting behind your back, his other on the ground. He smelled of sweat, smoke, and blood, yet somehow a small wisp of his cologne still lingered. It all mixed together into a scent that would only ever remind you of this night.

His warm hand left yours to delicately glide up your opposing cheek. You sniffed as he pulled your face to turn and look at him.

"If you had told me, I would have told you that I've felt things too."

Your brow softened when your eyes went round, your heart sinking to your stomach. "Things?"

His face went downcast for a moment, as if in some sort of regret. "Remember when you dislocated your wrist in 3rd grade? And I went and got help?"

You nodded. You remembered the teacher had come to help you after Steve ran off, but then he didn't come back. The next time you saw him wasn't until school the next day. You had been upset that he hadn't come back with the teacher to help or even come over to your house to see if you were okay after school. He had apologized when you went off on him, but that was all. As kids, it was easy to just forgive and move on. Play the next game of tag.

"You were pissed at me… I ran and hid from you because I felt it too." He scratched his chin, looking off at the demolished mall. "That was the first time. It freaked me the hell out. I felt when it happened, and I felt when they popped it back in a few hours later at the hospital. I could tell when you bumped it wrong or strained it. I could feel it all." He looked you dead in the eyes then. "And everything after that."

You shook your head, your brow laden with confusion as you put your hand over his on your face. "You never said anything either…"

He smiled softly and shrugged. "I didn't think you had to know. To be honest, I thought it was all just some weird hallucination or something."

Your expression shifted into one of disapproval.

"Oh don't you even," His smile grew at you, "You're just as guilty for not telling me."

"Yeah, I…. I know… I'm sorry," You muttered, the wounds scattered over his face taunting you again. While only a few hits had been delivered upon the discovery that Russian general had made about you, all of the injuries hurt the same. Both physically and otherwise. "I guess we all have our secrets."

Steve moved his other hand to cradle your face fully, his face moving closer to nearly rest his forehead on yours. While smiling only a second before, his eyes were now filled with something more serious. Something you had never seen directed at you before. It made your attention on him freeze and heat rise to the back of your neck.

"Well, while we're confessing secrets… Can I let one more slip?"

You couldn't tear your eyes away from his, which you quickly noticed kept darting down to your lips. Was he really doing this?

"You… have another?" You squeaked, voice barely audible.

He nodded. "If you'll let me show you?"

You dumbly nodded back, your mouth slightly agape and eyes as round as a couple of full moons.

He leaned in, finally resting his forehead onto yours, one of his hands sliding down to the nape of your neck. When your noses bumped he turned his head slightly, fitting your faces together like a puzzle. His breath brushed over your lips, puzzle pieces almost completely flush.

A jolt went through you like electricity by a single thought. "Wait-" You pushed him back slightly at the chest.

His eyes shot open, gazing at you in anticipation.

You didn't continue, only stared at him a moment, trying to get a handle on the speeding thoughts swirling your mind. Your pause was just long enough to watch sorrow cover his features.

"I read it wrong, didn't I?" The hand on your neck slid down to your shoulder in dismay, the weight of it heavy.

"No… No! God no, I just…. There's…." You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to think. "You don't… Have to do that… if you dont really want to."

He tilted his head. "Who says I don't want to?"

You shook your head, biting your lip nervously. "You don't have to be close and sweet like that just because you feel bad for me." The tingling returned, tears now visibly welling.

Steve leaned back further, far enough to be able to start analyzing you. His eyes darted around, trying to pick apart what you had just said. "Because I feel ba-?… You think I want this just to make it up to you somehow?" He challenged, his thumb stroking your cheek in an attempt to possibly keep you calm.

Alas, a tear still escaped and dripped down your face. "Yeah you don't have to get with me like that just because you feel bad for a few fights, okay? I'm not upset that you-"

"That's not why," He deadpanned.

"Huh?"

"That's not why I want to kiss you."

The tears froze, as did the internalized denial of the situation at the utterance of those words.

I want to kiss you.

"I mean, it's part of it," He admitted, "The whole pain thing I mean. But I don't want this because I pity you or anything or because I feel bad for getting beat up. I mean sure, I never want you to feel that again, but… You have to know those aren't the only reasons, right?"

All you could do was stare back down at your lap, fighting the additional tears threatening to spill and flood the whole parking lot.

"Shit, you really don't…" He muttered, letting the hand on your cheek slide upwards into the roots of your hair. "You're so much more than just that empathy to me. Really, you are, you hear me?"

You sniffled, once again squeezing your eyes shut causing a round of tears to fall down at rapid fire. Steve caught all of them with a gentle brush.

"Seriously, you're one of the funniest people I've ever met. You have the prettiest eyelashes, the most adorable laugh, and you're hell of a lot smarter than I am," He lightly joked, reaching down to grab your hand once more. "You've helped me be better, forgave me when I didn't deserve it, and let me rant to you about whatever shit would piss me off. And you care so much about Henderson and his nerd friends. My life would be so sucky without you... even if I do have to feel your god awful period cramps." He snickered. "I want you in it more for as long as possible. I want you closer."

Despite the joke, your body shuddered in a frame wracking sob. The emotions were now pouring out from you in violent waves. The tears weren't just from Steve, it was buildup from the whole damned night. A dam of hurt, fear, sorrow, anxiety, disappointment, horror, regret, sadness, and pain had been building up over the course of hours and hours. Suddenly, this was the pressure that made everything come flooding out… and you couldn't stop it.

"Oh, babe," Steve cooed, his soft hand hooking your neck and pulling your face into his chest. The pet name sparked something inside you, but it was quickly engulfed by the absolute tornado of intensity ripping you apart from the inside.

Steve couldn't feel your emotions, true, but he could feel how hard you bit your lip trying to stifle any noise that tried to escape. He could feel your body shudder in his clutch. He could feel the wet tears you rubbed into his shirt. And he could feel his heart breaking, not because he was hurt by you— hurt that you thought he would do such a thing to you out of guilt. No, it was because you had genuinely thought he couldn't love you like that. He could see the denial in your face, the false belief you must have come to adopt over time.

Steve waited patiently for you to calm, rubbing your back and resting his cheek on the top of your head. Your lungs began aching with each breath, your throat was going dry and burning. Eventually your choppy inhales slowed and your whimpers began to cease. Deep breaths became easier to take in and the blur in your vision cleared. When you came back to the moment at hand, you realized you had brought your legs up off the ground and to your chest, leaning against the warm body beside you. In a ball, Steve had wrapped around you like a shell, rocking you ever so slightly.

Your body shook again, this time in a small laugh. "I should be the one comforting you, you know. You're the one with broken ribs and stitches in your face."

You felt him chuckle against you, the sound rumbling your ear against his chest. He smiled, relieved to hear you joke around again. Tilting his head, he looked down at you trying to see your eyes. They were finally open again.

When you caught his gaze, you stared back up at him in attention, eyes red and nose runny. While you were sure you looked like hell, all he could see was the damp sheen of tears and sweat highlighting his favorite parts of your face.

"Can I please kiss you now?"

You let out a breath as you sat up, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "I'm all gross, though."

He grabbed the back of your neck again and gently yanked your face to his. "Shut up and just let me kiss it better."

You rolled your eyes. "You're such a dork-"

His lips greeted yours, warm and soothing, the obvious pain of his busted lip cast aside just to feel each other's being. Your chest exploded once again with overwhelming feeling, but this time it was manageable. It was more than manageable, in fact, it was welcome. It was no longer a spark sucked into a gloomy tornado, but a ray of light, casting a sensation of healing rays from your chest outwards. Both of your movements melded together like clay, as did your breaths, creating a back and forth that you had been longing for. It was as if you were charging each other with hope after a night full of negatives and hopelessness. It was like being at home again after being gone for so long.

He was the first to pull away, his hands holding your head with a slight tremble in them. It made your heart swell. He was just as worked up as you.

"Ouch." He said under his breath.

A woozy smile burst over your face, rays of light reaching the surface. You brought your hand up to lightly brush your thumb over his bottom lip. "I think this should heal more before we try that again."

He shook his head, eyes drooped with lovesick admiration. "Let it hurt," He mumbled before leaning in once more, pressing his mouth to yours.

You accepted it with a grateful hum.

A/N: Thanks again for reading! Seriously loved the new people flowing into this blog and the comments you all leave. It means a lot. My confidence is boosted <3 Requests are open!

Tags: @solarbxby @mxcheese @junglecoxk @iheartmyguitars @freezaz123 @love-kurdt @johnricharddeacy @fangeekkk @kategables @thehybridprincesshatedchild @eternallyvenus @wenddsmuks-blog @spideyharrington @basketcaseeeeee @carinacassiopeiae @impossibelle @artsyjazzs @xjessmorley @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @alana4610 @reidsgubbler @let-the-music-take-c0ntrol @mynameismothra @munsonzzgf @biscuitbeater15 (if tags are in red, then it would not let me tag you, I'm sorry 😔)

[psychic-refugee]

I agree with pretty much everyone that the season was rushed. They had so much going on and just didn’t do any kind of exposition or building of the storyline. Even if they had the normal 10-episode season, I don’t know how they would have done anyone’s storyline justice.

So, even for a Netflix season, it was short and rushed.

I think it could have been a really good season if they had the time to actually tell the story.

Some things I wished they had developed.

The bond between Jennifer and Ben. Or just having a backstory for Jennifer at all. She was literally just there and I felt I knew nothing about her. Marigold made 43 gifted children, did Durango only make Jennifer? If Marigold gives powers, does Durango make them even more ordinary? lol

They could have had a plot where maybe both particles give powers, but when they are in proximity to someone with the opposite particle, their powers get nullified.

If Lila and Five were gonna go Timeline hopping, they could have shown several timelines where Jennifer and Ben keep meeting tragic ends when they meet each other. I would have loved it if they were “Star Crossed Lovers” on steroids where literally every time they meet, they either die or bring about the end of the world.

I wished they played up more the idea that the Umbrella Academy as a unit/existing at all meant doom for the Universe.

Where if Ben and Jennifer don’t meet/die early enough, then Viktor causes the apocalypse. If Viktor doesn’t cause the apocalypse, then it’s Five with his wrecking the timeline to the point it creates a kugleblitz. If Five doesn’t cause it, then show how the others all bring about the doom.

Klaus always awakens too many of the dead and they kill everyone, zombie apocalypse style.

Alison’s ability progresses to the point that anything she says becomes reality, and she inadvertently causes the world to end because she gets pissed and wished “everyone would drop dead” or some other kind of Monkey Paw consequence to a misguided wish.

Diego is blamed for every assassination because of his abilities, and it starts a nuclear war between countries.

Luther gets captured by a shady government entity where they want to use his DNA or recreate Reginald’s serum to create super soldiers, as his powers are the most coveted for a fascist regime. They’re successful and there’s an apocalypse created by world wars.

Instead of Viktor getting two seasons of ending the world and Five and Ben getting one; It should have been a 7-season storyline where they each end the world in their own way and they continuously try to fix it. Season 7 is where it ends with all of them voluntarily being absorbed by the Cleanse because they realize, “It’s me. Hi, I’m the problem it’s me.”

I wish they had gone deeper into Abigail Hargreeves, and not only on her research for Marigold and Durango, but her apparent resentment of being brought back to life. Like, how did she come to the plan of putting the Cleanse in motion? They couldn’t have at least done a montage of the six years between the resurrecting time reset and the beginning of season 4?

It would have been nice to see the dynamic between Reginald and Abigail. Is he so self-centered that he never noticed his wife was plotting to end the universe as they knew it? Was she horrified at the lengths he went to in order to resurrect her? Was he completely different around her? Soft, caring?

Did she try to live a happy life with Reginald, but couldn’t knowing that because Marigold and Durango still existed, that it was only a matter of time before it went to shit?

Was Abigail aware of the broken timeline and the inevitable eternal loop of apocalypse and resets, and that’s why she chose the Cleanse?

Season Four wasn’t finished, IMO, and we really only saw the Wiki version.

[depressopax]

Hi!!! if it's okay (and if your request is still open) I was wondering if I could request a fluff scenario for Jimmy McGill? :D where he gets all soft and loving sjdjdj can be both sfw and nsfw ... thank you !! ♡

Thank you for the request!!! <3 Been meaning to write about Jimmy for quite a while, so this was the perfect sign to do it lmaooo I was gonna do a NSFW too but realized that the SFW version was at 1K word already 💀 Will do a part 2 tho!  Oh well, enjoy these cheesy Jimmy headcanons 🥹🫶

Jimmy McGill relationships headcanons

Fandom - Breaking Bad/Better call Saul

Jimmy x gn!reader || SFW HC's

Pairing: Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman x gender-neutral reader Genre: Fluff, headcanons Warning(s): None that I can think off?? Cuss words maybe, slightly angsty Jimmy lol. Reader is gender-neutral and referred to as "partner" and gn!pet-names. Words: 1.1K Summary: Being in a relationship with Jimmy McGill would include... English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 || AO3 link || Masterlist || Request || NSFW version ||

Jimmy is not good at figuring out his feelings.

That’s why it took him a while to realize he’d fallen in love with you. 

It’d take some time for him to accept what he’s feeling though.

Homeboy would be in denial at first. He’s scared to fall in love with someone, in fear of commitment and getting hurt etc…

But he’d show interest in other ways, without realizing it himself.

We’re talking about cheesy stuff: - Always looking good (and that’s not so difficult, HE GORGEOUSSSSS 👀) - Trying to impress you with his knowledge about things - Making sure to say something funny and make others laugh when you’re around, to let you know how funny and amazing he is lol - Compliments and teasing 

Noticing his attempt, you straight up ask him about it. “...Do you like me, Jimmy?” “What?? I-” … “Yes. I do.”

Once it’s said and done, he eventually asks you out on a date.

Listen… Jimmy may be overconfident, especially when it comes to his seduction skills

However, there’s something about you that makes him nervous.

What you think about him and how he comes across matters to him.

That’s why he plans a date weeks ahead, trying to make everything perfect

He tries figuring out what you like and dislike so he can use that to make a good impression. 

He takes you out to some fancy restaurant (RIP early season Jimmy’s wallet 😭)

The date goes well and he is very smug with his effort.

After a few dates, Jimmy realizes he’s fallen for you.

At first he tries to hide it. He doesn’t want to come across as “desperate” or “needy”. 

But then again… He’s not good at hiding his true feelings.

Luckily, you feel the same and eventually you become a couple for real. 

He was the first one to say “I love you”, and did so without realizing it.

You were leaving for work or something and he just goes: “Bye, love ya!” Completely flustered when he heard what he just said.

When you say it back, he feels a wave of relief. 

After that, he makes sure to say ILY as often as he can.

He won’t shut up about you. Like ever. 

“So then my partner said…” “My partner brought me this shirt!” “I’m taking my babe out on a date tonight” And everyone else will eventually be like: 😐”Shut up”😐

He’ll refer to you as his spouse/wife/husband, watching everyone confused “You’re married?” “I will be soon” 🤭

Jimmy’s a sucker for cute pet names. And yeah, some of them are probably “cringe” but that won’t stop him 

Baby, Boo, Sugar, Sweetie, Hot stuff, Doll, Kitten (😭)

He loves it when you wear his shirts. Especially as lounge clothing or when sleeping.

Jimmy also finds matching outfits adorable. 

Would probably take you shopping for either suits/blazers or just hoodies that you can match. 

He also buys matching jewelry, towels, morning robes etc etc… He’s one of those guys 😭

He has a picture of you standing on the desk in his office, as a way to carry the sweetheart with him all the time. 

…And also to brag about you to anyone that enters his office (but he puts the picture away when dealing with some of his unpredictable clients, homeboy is overprotective)

Speaking of being overprotective: He deals with a lot of shady people, so he’s very careful with who he chooses to trust when it comes to talking his love to you.

He prioritizes your safety over anything else. 

Ofc he’s scared for his own safety too, but pretty much puts it aside to make sure you’re safe first off. 

If danger comes up, he’d make sure to find somewhere safe for you to stay whilst he deals with it.

He would go so far as hiring a bodyguard for you tbh.

Being with him might be a struggle too

Homeboy is a bit unpredictable and impulsive

Doing stupid things is his speciality- 😭

No but literally, you’ll sometimes have to stop him from acting out on his weird revenge ideas or stuff that could get him into trouble.

“I was just gonna-” “No.” “But…” “Jimmy, no.” 

Sometimes you succeed, sometimes you don’t. But you love him either ways. <3

He also likes talking shit about people with you *cough* probably Howard *cough* - sure, a bit rude - but he finds it hilarious lol 

Lot of in-jokes between you and him

Jimmy is a daydreamer and is easily distracted

Especially by you.

He sometimes gets stuck thinking about you when doing boring work.

Until Francesca tells him to pull himself together lmao

Jimmy spends all possible time together with you. 

He is ambitious and serious about work, but after you and him became a couple his priorities changed. 

He finds time to spend with you. Last thing he wants is for you to feel like he cares more about work than he does for you.

If you’re adventurous and like being outdoors, he does too.

But honestly? He prefers cuddling at home and watching movies with you.

He is not a good chef, so he buys a lot of food from restaurants and brings it home if you’ve had a long day at work.

He makes sure to be a romantic bastard too. 

Candlelit dinners, taking baths together, picnics… You name it. He loves spoiling you. 

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone else but hear me out… Home-spa dates 👀

He did use to have his office at a nail salon, so he knows his way around those things

If you allow him to, he likes painting your nails - with him choosing the color

Like I said, Jimmy enjoys cuddling you.

He has a lot of feelings, traumas etc pent up, which he dares to let out around you.

He has learnt that he can be vulnerable with you and not get judged, which he appreciates.

That’s why he loves coming home to you after a long day and simply resting in your arms.

He prefers being the little spoon - to feel protected and loved by you. <3

To summarize: It might take him a while to put the pieces together and actually confess his feelings for you - but once he does he spends every day letting you know how much you mean to him.

I just remembered why I love Jimmy sm AHHH he deserves love and happiness <3<3 Part 2 soon!

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 6 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

ummmmm HIII so sorry i know i still owe you guys a million drabbles and i haven't been posting as much but this chapter is just chock-full of drama and i'm so excited to share it bc hehehe it's a rollercoaster. also we should def stop listening to sasha. sneaky posting; have fun babies!!!! i cannot WAIT to hear your thoughts

specific cws: alcohol use, violence (like fist-fighting level not insane), mentions of drugs, swearing, incredibly awkward tension lol

-

“The course of true love never did run smooth.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)

You’ve done a lot of partying in your days, but you never thought a hangover could float over your shoulders for damn near two weeks. Then again, maybe that rancid taste in your mouth is regret instead of the practical gallons of liquor you’d guzzled that night.

Historia tells you to delete the evidence, have a glass of wine with your friends, focus on your studies, put meaning back into the happy distractions that make up life. Sasha tells you to suck it up, download Tinder, do something other than wallow in your bed with nothing on but the fairy lights along your ceiling. Ymir tells you men aren’t worth embarrassing yourself for, maybe start swinging the other way, that she knows a few very pretty single ladies.

You meet all of their advice with a slow nod, sometimes a chuckle, put your head down, and go about your business, letting the shame follow you around like a little rain cloud from building to building around campus. Even your students have noticed something’s making you tick; Falco and Gabi left a package of Crumbl cookies in your office the other day, and for the first time, Zofia has begun to raise her hand in class. It’s heartwarming, really, but it doesn’t solve your problem.

Problems would be the better term for it. To start, there was your royal fuck-up with Eren. You had over-indulged and gotten a little too flirty to be “friends”, sure, it happens, but something had snapped in you when you saw Eren with that leggy blonde hanging all over him at the club.

Breeze. Even wearing naught but a skirt and some thin tights with the early winter wind whipping around your legs, just the thought of her name makes your blood boil. She was perfect, all bouncy and easygoing and cool, hippie clothes. To be fair, she was the one with the true claim on Eren; you had dug your own grave, far too confident in your ability to be just friends with someone so…so Eren.

Your friendship had been growing closer and closer by the passing day before that night, texting at nearly every minute of the day and spending time together wherever you could fit it in your full schedule. You had made plans to bake Christmas cookies together, even despite Eren’s protests that Christmas was a “capitalistic hellhole of a holiday season”, had acted out your favorite Shakespeare scenes in your pajamas, much to Eren’s amusement, and had made a habit of staying up late into the night watching and rewatching your favorite animes, heatedly debating characters. It had been butterfly-inducing, dizzying, perfect. Until you had indulged in one too many shots and humiliated yourself, that is.

Seeing Breeze all over Eren had made you realize the severity of your mistake trying to keep Eren in your life, realize the warm feeling blooming in your chest every time he grinned at you, all teeth and his little chin dimple, was decidedly much more than a platonic appreciation for a new friend. It turned out that you’d been right from the start; you weren’t his type, and to make matters worse, his actual taste in women had been thrust in your face unexpectedly.

When you had awoken the next morning, debating on whether to fall back asleep immediately or dash to the toilet, Historia had greeted you with a sorry smile, a cup of coffee, and a quiet word of advice to look through your phone. Knowing your drunken self, you pulled up your phone calls first, wanting to make sure you hadn’t accidentally Facetimed your mom to tell her how much fun you were having or something cringe-worthy of the sort. But no, of course it had to be much worse than that.

There was a phone call– to Eren. Your call log had recorded a one minute and thirty-six second phone call between you and Eren, one you obviously didn’t remember making.

“Please tell me you were with me when I called Eren,” you groan, so naive, “did I completely embarrass myself?”

Historia blushes. “Well, he didn’t answer, if it’s any consolation–”

“Oh, thank god–”

“But that didn’t exactly stop you,” Historia fiddles with the edge of her t-shirt, “you left him a voicemail.”

Even through your throbbing headache, you shoot right up out of bed at that. “What?! What did I say?”

“I don’t know,” Historia moans woefully, putting her hands over her face, “I’m sorry, I tried to stop you, but you ran off as soon as you started talking. By the time I caught up to you, you were already hanging up.”

“So, there’s a voicemail from drunk me on Eren’s phone, and neither of us have any idea what it says?”

“Correct.”

“My life fucking sucks.”

“It’s about to get a whole lot worse,” Historia says, throwing your sheets back and snuggling beside you in the bed, burrowing her face in your shoulder, “check your texts.”

And oh, had it gotten worse. Your drunken, foolish text sat in your outbox, unanswered, unread, and inexcusable. Six months later and you were right back where you started, begging a ghost of a man to explain why he couldn’t love you.

> hi luke, i’m sorta ficked up, but i misz you. why did yoi never call me???? you owe me at leasttg that. a fcking explanation,. 

Storming through campus, coat tucked around your shoulders against the biting chill, you wince at the memory. You haven’t deleted the unanswered text yet, keeping it stale in your phone as a reminder of what happens when you get too attached to people you know aren’t good for you.

You thought you’d be more heartbroken over the text to Luke and its lack of an answer, but surprisingly, you’re not. It’s Eren haunting your thoughts, Luke’s just the placeholder for all of your anger at this point. Eren isn’t to blame for all of this, you are, and that’s why you can’t bring yourself to face him, can’t bring yourself to answer any of the hesitant texts he’s sent you since that god-awful night.

You’re not in college anymore, you have to keep reminding yourself. You’re twenty-four, and you’d like to think you’re past the phase of your life where you’re handing your heart out to anyone that passes like it’s a Costco sample. You aren’t even sure if you want Luke anymore at this point, if you could even speak to him if you bumped into him these days. He had, admittedly, treated you like dirt, wrenched your heart out from your chest and left it on the sidewalk to collect dust. At least you can hate him, hate what he did to you, hate that you’re stuck on him like a broken record skipping to the same chorus every few weeks.

You can’t hate Eren, though. You can be disappointed in him for entertaining his terrible ex-girlfriend, not aloud of course because he hadn’t actually mentioned her to you himself, but you can do it internally. Even that isn’t enough to make you feel better; not only had he not trusted you, not felt safe or comfortable enough with you to share the skeletons in his closet, but he was likely zooming full-speed down a dead-end street, the way Sasha tells the story. Your heart aches for him out of a painful mixture of pining and fervent concern.

Your only solution so far has been to dive headfirst into your coursework and your students; it hasn’t done much to distract you, but with finals on the horizon, it’s not the worst method of coping you’ve come up with in your days.

Your newly invigorated dedication to your work and your courses are the cause of you dragging yourself across campus to 104, desperate for caffeine and practically a corpse after two weeks of near-constant self-shaming keeping you up at night.

The smell of the coffee shop, earthy and warm, hits you almost as hard as the blasting heat inside, and you practically slouch upon entering, the weight of the cozy atmosphere cocooning you like a warm blanket. If there’s one place that will always feel like a hug, it’s 104 Beans, your coffee shop of choice (and obligation, considering the small size of your campus) for the last six years.

Pieck, your favorite barista, greets you in her typical dreamy manner. “Hi love, same as usual?”

“Hey Pieck,” you greet her with a weary smile. As you dig around in your bag for your wallet, the extent of your exhaustion versus the amount of work you have left to do surfaces in your brain. “Actually…no, not my usual. Can I get a quad shot Americano?”

Pieck pauses where she’s scribbling onto a paper cup with a Sharpie, eyes flitting back up to you in disbelief. “A quad shot Americano?”

“A quad shot Americano.”

“Jesus,” Pieck sighs, eyes wide, “work’s that rough, huh? Black coffee not going to cut it?”

“The shakes will be worth it,” you confirm, swiping your card through the machine.

“Can I please make it a cappuccino then? You’re going to need something creamy to get all that espresso down,” Pieck looks back up at you, eyes pleading.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but–”

“Almond milk, I know,” Pieck winks at you, sliding your cup down the assembly line of baristas working amongst the hissing of the espresso machine and the pleasant, folky music floating from the speakers. “We’re a little busy, so give me five and I’ll bring it over to you.”

You smile gratefully and collect your things, turning to scout out what’s hopefully a quiet table in the corner, when a pair of arms tossed around your shoulders stops you. The familiar scent of fruity perfume tickles your nose, and you slump against the tight grip in relief.

“You made it out of the house!” Sasha’s eyes glow with pride, as if you’d just run a marathon.

“It’s not like I’m a hermit,” you roll your eyes, “I have class five days a week.”

“You don’t go anywhere besides class or your house though, so you still get participation points,” Sasha grins, shaking your shoulders, “how are you feeling?”

“Well…”

Sasha’s expression crumples. “Still that bad, huh?”

“The Luke thing was pathetic of me, but honestly, it’s not haunting me as much as I thought it would,” you admit, pausing for a moment to allow Sasha to grab her coffee from the barista when her name is called, “the one thing that’s really sticking with me is the Eren issue.”

“Like, the voicemail? Or Breeze?”

“Both. I would give anything to know what that voicemail said, but whatever was going on between us aside, I just hope he’s okay, y’know? With Breeze back in the picture and everything.”

Sasha bites into her bottom lip and glances around the coffee shop, checking every face at every table. You know that face; she’s hiding something.

“What?”

“What?” Sasha cocks her head innocently. You nearly smack her.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“Uh…okay, yeah, I’m not, but I’m not sure if I should. I mean, you’re actually out of the house–”

“I leave my house plenty!”

“You know what I mean,” Sasha scoffs, “it’s just…if you’re feeling better, I don’t want to throw you back into the deep end.”

You have no words for that, absolutely despising the way that she is completely correct. Whatever information lies behind Sasha’s bitten lip could either make you feel a hundred times better or a hundred times worse, and you’re stuck debating on whether you should gamble or not when Sasha makes the decision for you.

 “Fine, you wore me down,” she sighs.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you point out, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to,” Sasha says, annoyed, “you have this, like, fucking puppy dog look. Makes me sick. Get your coffee, I’ll find a table, and we can talk.”

Like clockwork, the moment Sasha steps away, Pieck grabs your attention and hands your coffee over along with an extra hot cup half-full of steamed almond milk. You look at her questioningly, and she merely shrugs.

“That’s a lot of espresso. I know you’re in, like, your depressed writer phase right now, but I figured a little extra milk would come in handy.”

“You’re the best,” you smile at her affectionately, thinking absentmindedly that you should invite her out to Scout’s sometime. Before she can respond, Pieck’s gaze lands on something just over your shoulder. You can smell him even before you turn around, musky cologne and a little hint of weed. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey Pieck. Usual?” His throaty timbre cuts through the thick air, sharp as a knife. Pieck nods politely and gets to work on his coffee, forgoing a trip to the cash register. That tracks; Pieck’s hooded eyes are bloodshot more often than not.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, trying to sneak around him, but Eren’s quicker than you, side-stepping to cut you off.

“Hey stranger,” he smiles down at you, but it’s tense, nervous, “trying to run off on me?”

“Didn’t even realize that was you, sorry,” you lie, offering him a thin smile in return. You spot Sasha gaping at you across the cafe, waving her arms wildly and mouthing What the fuck?. You can’t help but feel similarly.

“It’s been awhile, how are you?”

“M’fine, just really busy with school.” God, you hate this, this awkward small talk barely parsing its way through the jungle of things left unsaid between you two. “You?”

“Fine,” Eren looks around awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Good,” you speak directly into your coffee, unable to stomach the emerald green peering down at you.

“You know,” Eren’s words come out quite like he can’t believe he’s saying them, “I kinda thought you were avoiding me.”

“Did you?” Your voice is caught in your throat, coming out in a pathetic squeak. Has he heard the voicemail? The startling turn the conversation’s taken must be visible all over your face, because Sasha’s flailing arms beckoning you over to the table grow more urgent.

“You haven’t texted me back, haven’t seen you in a couple weeks,” Eren’s incredibly focused on his shoes, kicking one Vans sneaker idly back and forth on the floor and making a squeaking sound, “so yeah, sort of.”

“I’m busy,” you deadpan, praying to any god you can remember the name of that you’ll just disintegrate right where you stand. Eren meets your eyes again, smirks disbelievingly.

“You said that.”

Something in his tone annoys you, something about his insinuation that he knows you’re blatantly lying, that he’s teasing you over your embarrassment, ignites a little flame in your chest. You scowl at him.

“I mean, you must be pretty busy too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Breeze just got back into town, didn’t she?” No going back now. Eren’s face blanches for a moment, features growing pale, but he manages to school his face back into that nonchalant pout that you want to slap right off his face.

“Historia told you?” He doesn’t sound surprised; in face, he sounds almost expectant, like he knew you’d find out at some point. It stakes the embers burning in your chest.

“She’s my best friend, so yeah.” This feels like an argument. It shouldn’t be an argument, but your clipped tone is pushing it in that direction. You’ve spent the last two weeks reminding yourself that you have no claim on Eren, no reason to be hurt or upset, but here you are, feeling that familiar rush of anger coursing through your veins.

“I mean, we haven’t been hanging out or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Who said I was worried?”

Eren’s eyebrows knit together, a little frown playing at his mouth. “I don’t know, I mean–”

“Look, Sasha’s waiting for me,” you point over Eren’s shoulder to the little two-top table, where Sasha has stilled within the blink of an eye, shooting Eren an innocent smile and a little wave. “I’d love to catch up, but maybe another time.”

“It was good seeing you.” Eren looks confused, albeit, a little bit hurt, and you hate it. Why is that so much worse, even worse than the sight of him with Breeze hanging off of his arm? His little pout puts a needle through your ballooning anger, and you deflate, sighing.

“I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Eren takes his coffee from Pieck and ambles towards the door, sparing you one last glance over his shoulder. Unwilling to hold his eyes any longer, you scurry to your table, just having realized that Pieck forgot to put a coffee sleeve around your cup and that it’s been burning your hand for the last several minutes.

“Ow! Shit!” You practically crash land across from Sasha, dropping your cups in synchronicity and shaking your red palms around in the air to cool them down.

“What was that?” Sasha hisses, leaning across the table so viciously that your drinks nearly topple over.

“He just showed up!”

“You didn’t have to talk to him.”

“I didn’t try to. He just, like, materialized behind me and started talking. What was I supposed to do? Run away?”

“Little shit,” Sasha swears, glaring at the door as if her anger can shoot through it like a laser beam, cut Eren down where he’s surely almost a block down the street by now, “what did he say?”

“He asked if I’ve been avoiding him," you say, twirling your wooden coffee stirrer through your drink idly and trying to look as if your heart’s not still beating at what’s sure to be a dangerous rate.

“Well, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He got all smug about it,” you scoff, the replayed scene of Eren’s self-assured smirk wiping off of his face bringing you a little bit of petty satisfaction, “until I brought up Breeze.”

Sasha’s eyes grow wide, and she looks around the coffee shop again, as if Eren or Breeze might come popping out of one of the large potted plants in the corners. “That’s actually what I wanted to tell you. What did he say about it?”

“What did you hear?” You narrow your eyes at her, and she narrows hers back.

“You first.”

“He didn’t say much, just looked really surprised that I brought her up. Said they haven’t been hanging out.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sasha snorts, rolling her eyes. Something in your chest that had begun to glimmer, something akin to hope, feels like it just got a bucket of ice-water poured over it. You cock your head, furrow your brows.

“How would you know?”

“Because Hitch and I grabbed some coffee–”

“Hitch? I thought that was a–”

“Okay, don’t crucify me, I know,” Sasha holds her hands up defensively, “it was supposed to be a one night stand, but…I don’t know. She’s cool.”

“Cool?” Even through your desperation for anything Eren-related after a two week drought, you smile knowingly at her. Sasha’s not hard to read, especially when her face goes bright red from chin to forehead.

“Yes,” she hisses, “cool. Anyway, we came by a few days ago, and Eren was here. With Breeze.”

“I mean, I expected as much.”

You’re lying, you’re so lying. The only consolation you’ve had over the last two weeks that you’re not a complete moron is the hope that maybe, just maybe, Eren’s just as forlorn as you, laying around and wishing his phone would buzz with your name on it, wishing you’d pop up at his door with a bag of popcorn ready for movie night. Instead, your worst suspicions have been confirmed, and not only is Eren very much involved with Breeze again, but he had lied straight to your face about it. Ouch.

“They weren’t like, holding hands or anything. Honestly, it looked like they were fighting.”

“Well, what did Hitch say about it?” You don’t even know if you want to know, but with your brain short-circuiting inside your skull, your mouth has free reign to seek out information that will be about as soothing as lemon juice on a papercut.

“Eren won’t talk to any of them about her,” Sasha burns her tongue on her coffee and sucks in a sharp breath, “not even Armin, apparently. She said he’s been moody lately.”

“Wonder why,” you mumble, mulling all of this new information over in your head. Breeze is bad for him, makes him crazy, you already know that. But you didn’t think it would start this soon– you feel like if anything, he should be ecstatic that his long-lost love has finally come back to him. And he can stop trying to replace her, your brain adds helpfully, only doubling the watery ache swelling in your chest.

“Who cares?” Sasha rips open a granola bar, biting into it and continuing to speak with her mouth full. “That’s why you’ve got to stop avoiding him.”

“Huh? That seems like the opposite–”

“No,” Sasha cuts you off, an air of authority in her normally chipper voice, “you’re not going to cower in the corner just because Eren’s back with his shitty ex girlfriend–”

“It’s not just because of Breeze,” you correct her, “it’s because of that voicemail. I have no idea what I said. There’s a lot that’s contributing to my self-induced isolation, trust me.”

“Regardless,” Sasha mouths around another bite of her granola bar, “the only thing that will make you feel better is being around him.”

“That sounds a little contradictory–”

“Trust me,” Sasha interrupts you again, “the best way to make a guy come around is to be up in his face, flaunting how hot and single you are, and to not give him an ounce of your attention. It’s a tried and true method, I promise.”

It turns out that you are a beacon for those with bad ideas, evidently, because later that night, you’ve ended up at Scout’s, cuddled up against the bar with Sasha despite Historia’s fervent protests. If Historia shows up later, just to “check in” (read: see what’s come of Sasha’s terrible plan), you won’t be surprised. She’s prone to being the mom friend and the harbinger of gossip, but she hasn’t shown face quite yet. It’s just you, Sasha, and a handful of regulars, sipping unreasonably cold beers and trying to act as if the early December chill hasn’t rattled you to your bones.

“This is a stupid idea,” you murmur against the lip of your bottle, trying not to seem as unnerved as you are, even after an hour of waiting and sipping. Sasha scoffs beside you, picking through your near-empty basket of peanut shells in search of a full pod.

“It’s not. He’ll be here.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you dragged me out. It only took a week for me to start missing this place,” you run a thoughtful hand along the varnished wooden bartop, “but I’m just still not sure about this whole seeing-Eren-on-purpose thing.”

Before Sasha can answer, the door swings open to reveal the man in question: Eren, accompanied by Armin and Connie, as always, and sporting his standard uniform. Black hoodie, slouchy khaki pants that are tightened around the ankles, and his beat-up Vans.

You nearly sigh into your drink at how delicious he looks, only stopping when the little voice in your head reminds you that the voicemail you’d left him exists. Friends– no, strangers now? The concept of labeling your bizarre, gray-areas-only relationship with Eren brings a chuckle up your throat, one that spills onto the bar.

You can feel him watching you, but to your simultaneous surprise and disappointment, he gives you space, sidling up to the bar a few seats down from where you and Sasha are occupying a couple of bar stools. When Connie throws up a cheerful hand in greeting to you, you tentatively wave back, only for Armin to grab Connie’s attention and turn him toward the bar.

“Ha!” Sasha says triumphantly, looking at you with her eyes glowing like you’re supposed to have reached a revelation of some sort. “See?”

“Did you plot this with Connie?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion.

“No, I’m just a genius, that’s all.”

“I feel like your theory is being proven wrong, not right. He’s not even sitting near us.”

“Because you have the upper hand!” Sasha grins.

“The upper hand?”

“Yeah, he’s giving you some space so you can make the first move, get what you want out of him.”

“And what do I want out of him?” You nearly growl in your frustration, feeling silly sitting exactly four barstools down from Eren with him running through your mind as if he isn’t close enough to just hop up and hug. It’s a genuine question more than a rhetorical one; you’re not even sure what you expect out of him anymore. Another fuck? A fancy date night? A lifetime worth of radio silence, as if Eren isn’t the person you’ve connected better with than nearly anyone else in your romantic history?

Sasha’s brows furrow. “Don’t you know?”

“No! That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

“Oh,” Sasha frowns, rubs her chin, “we should have figured that part out before we came, I guess.”

“Sasha!” You whisper-hiss, ever mindful of what you’re sure to be prying ears only a few feet away. “So you have no plan?”

Sasha stumbles, stutters, and eventually, flushes bright red with a shrug. “Okay, fine, I have no plan. But at least it’s something to break up your routine of laying in bed eating chips and moping around the library.”

“You’re such a bitch.” You roll your eyes, but you don’t mean it, not really. Regardless of how things stand, at the very least you can sneak little glances at Eren, take in how good he looks– no, you correct yourself firmly. You hopped off that train of your own accord, and you’re better for it.

With some verbal manhandling, you goad Sasha into a lull of small talk, classes, anything that comes to mind. A pair of eyes finds you, not the emerald that keeps you up at night, but a pair of hazel old-and-new eyes draw to you, and you can feel the scratch of an unwelcome gaze on your skin.

“Floch’s here,” you state the obvious, sipping your drink and giving no physical indication that you’ve noticed him, staring straight ahead as you mutter to Sasha.

“Christ, this was not a good idea,” Sasha groans, face-palming.

“Wow, I sure wish that someone had suggested this was a bad idea, wouldn’t that have been nice?”

“Shut up,” Sasha says, peeking warily over her shoulder, “I think that’s Hitch in the corner, too.”

You frown, confused at the hunched, anxious change in her posture. “Why are you being weird? Go say hey.”

“I’m not abandoning you!”

“Oh, shut it. Why are you really being weird?”

“I, uh…” Sasha twirls her beer around on the counter, blushing, “I haven’t texted her back in like, four or five days.”

“Sasha! You like her, I can tell. What’s gotten into you?”

“It was supposed to be a one-night thing,” Sasha moans, letting her face fall dramatically into her hands, “and then it was movie nights and coffee and just…way beyond casual hooking up. I like her, but…I don’t know! I panicked.”

You chew on her admission for a second, selfishly comparing Sasha’s situation to your own. Was that what you were doing with Eren? No, surely not, but was that what he was doing with you? You knew he had loved Breeze, that she had wrecked him, but maybe…just maybe some small part of you wants to hope that he’s moved on, that the coffee shop sighting was a fluke.

You shoo Sasha in Hitch’s direction, demanding she run over to apologize and make nice with Hitch, partially to save Sasha’s first shot at a real relationship in years and partially because you want to stew alone with your thoughts. Before you can get too deep into your black hole of what ifs, a familiar presence is sliding into Sasha’s seat, grinning lewdly.

You sigh; it was only a matter of time before he sought you out.

“What do you want, Forster?”

“Last name only? Ouch,” Floch places a hand over his heart, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the countertop. You recognize his demeanor immediately: pupils blown wide, buzzing to the brim with nervous energy. Floch’s always dabbled in party drugs, part of why you could only stand to be around him in small doses back when you were hooking up.

“Are you coked out right now?” Mindful of Levi’s hovering presence behind the bar, you keep your voice to a low hiss.

“So you can’t call me by my first name, but you can ask such personal questions? Jesus, you really are full of it, aren’t you?”

“Floch,” you nearly groan in frustration, “I thought I made it perfectly clear the last time I saw you that I’m not interested.”

“Why are you being so mean to me, hm?” Floch snakes a hand around your shoulders, jostling you until your face is mere inches from his. You’re more than aware of a pair of green eyes nearly boring a hole in your forehead, and you feel a pang of regret that you sent Sasha away so quickly, remembering far too late that Hitch’s table doesn’t offer a great view of where you’re seated at the bar.

“I’m not being mean,” you try to push at him, but he’s locked around you, “I’m just not interested.”

“Stop being such a bitch, Jesus Christ,” Floch finally lets you shove him away from you, but he’s far from done, “when did you get so stuck up, huh?”

“Floch. Keep your voice down, and walk away.” You try to warn him; Floch may be a pain in your ass, but you’d like to believe that he’s not a bad guy, deep down. You’re too late, however. 

Eren’s materialized between you and Floch before you can blink, before you can even get another word out. His sudden presence forces you out of your barstool, stepping around him to get a better read on what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Eren seems not to notice you trying to insert yourself between him and Floch, and the look on his face makes you step back momentarily.

He looks terrifying. Eren’s nostrils are flaring, eyes blown wide and jaw clenched tight. He’s taking full advantage of his height, glaring down at Floch with such menace that if looks could kill, Floch would already be laid out on the floor.

“Get the fuck out of here, dude. She said no.”

“What are you, her little guard dog?” Floch, infamous for never knowing what’s best for him, scoffs at Eren’s incredibly intimidating posture.

“Maybe I am,” Eren sneers, “I’m damn sure not going to sit there and let you speak to her like that.”

“Who’s this loser?” Connie’s to your right now, gesturing to Floch. You don’t miss the telltale clenching of Eren’s hands by his side, and it hits your dizzied mind what’s going on. Eren’s going to end up swinging if you don’t interfere, and Connie’s there for backup. 

“Floch, please.” You reach a feeble hand up to Floch’s chest, trying to gently push him in the other direction.

In the blink of an eye, Floch’s grabbing you by the wrist hard enough to solicit a yelp from your lips, throwing your arm away from him with a look of disgust.

“Oh, so now you want to touch me, bitch?”

No sooner has Floch’s hand released your arm than Connie’s got his arms wrapped around you, yanking you out of the crossfire. Amidst a series of gasps, Eren grabs Floch around the back of the neck, pins him face-first to the bar. 

“Jaeger!” Levi barks sharply, darting over to the scene of the commotion.

“Is that what gets you off, huh?” Eren’s nearly nose-to-nose with Floch, whose busted lip is twisted in a grimace and dribbling little bits of blood onto the varnished bartop. “Calling women bitches when they don’t want your little dick?”

“Let him go, Eren,” Armin tries to intervene, having already dashed over from his barstool. You want to back him up, but you’re frozen where you’re pinned to Connie’s chest, trembling in his arms. You know Eren’s a little rough-and-tumble, but this, seeing it in real life, is much more terrifying than you could have imagined.

“What the hell? Are you okay?” You can hear Sasha’s voice from beside you, close enough to touch but distant in comparison to where your vision is zeroed in on Eren’s grip on the back of Floch’s neck.

“Answer me!” Eren rears Floch back a few inches and slams him against the bar again. Floch curses under his breath, wriggles fruitlessly under Eren’s weight.

“Get the fuck off me, Jaeger!”

“You fucking wish,” Eren hisses, tightening his grip further, “now apologize to my girl before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Eren,” you find your voice again, shaking out of Connie’s grip. You fist your hands into Eren’s hoodie sleeves, tugging hard enough to get his attention. “He’s not worth it. Let him go.”

“Listen to her, Jaeger,” Levi’s already-deep voice is stained with warning.

When you pull at his sleeve a little harder, Eren turns to you, eyes still blown wide and teeth bared. It startles you, but you hold firm, setting your own jaw and shaking your head.

“Let. Him. Go. Now, Eren.” You’re not sure how you’ve managed to muster up the conviction in your voice, but you’re grateful for it, as it seems to shake Eren back into himself. Eren slowly releases Floch and in the same easy motion, he guides you behind him with one long, strong arm.

“You,” Levi points accusingly at Floch, “out.”

Floch’s jaw drops. “I didn’t even–”

“Out.” Levi’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Floch seems to understand at least that. He turns his glare back to you and Eren, scowling deeply.

“The next time I see you, Jaeger, it’s fucking over.”

“Get lost before you make me fucking embarrass you,” Eren says, voice dripping with venom. Floch shakes his head, lets his gaze land on you. A chilling smile breaks over his features.

“Next time, sweetheart.”

“Get the fuck out of here already, bro,” Connie snaps, pointing towards the exit. Floch takes his leave, sauntering towards the door with all the confidence of someone who hadn’t just been pinned against the countertop. A heavy, staticky silence falls over the bar.

“If I see you fighting in here again, it’s over.” Levi’s cold eyes fall on Eren, who nods curtly in understanding. Eren brushes his hands through his hair, rests a hand on the bun at the back of his head. Something strange is coursing through your body; something that tastes like anger, burns like heartbreak, falls bitter on your tongue like envy.

“Are you okay?” Sasha appears at your side again, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Floch’s such a psycho, I’m not even surprised he picked a fight.”

You nod numbly, eyes never leaving Eren. He finally looks back down at you, none of the heat having left his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” It takes you a moment to realize that it’s you speaking, you throwing those words up the inches from your mouth to Eren’s. Eren’s face contorts into a frown.

“What do you mean? He was bothering you, wasn’t he?”

“So you try to fight him?” You seethe. Maybe it is anger, this bizarre, foreign emotion tingling at the tips of your fingers. No, that’s not quite it, you’re not angry you’re just…confused. Hurt that Eren’s frolicking around with Breeze, doing whatever he pleases, and yet, he’s jumping into bar fights to save you from the tangible evidence of your past.

“What do you expect me to do when someone talks to you like that?” Eren hisses back, eyes narrowed.

Sasha’s backed away from the two of you now; you’re aware of your friends staring at you, noses scrunched as they try to figure out exactly what’s happening now. You wish you had an answer to give them, but all you can muster is this heartache shooting out of your mouth in the form of daggers.

“I don’t need you,” you spit, “I don’t need your protection.”

“It didn’t exactly look like you had that handled,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and what are you? My knight in shining fucking armor? Don’t you have other damsels in distress waiting for you?” It’s too far, you know that as soon as the words leave your mouth, but the liquid courage Sasha had insisted upon is making your tongue sharper than you’d anticipated.

Eren rears back from where he’s hunched to meet you on your level, nostrils flaring again. Before you can utter another word, he’s got an arm thrown around your shoulders none-too-gently, practically dragging your stumbling feet towards the exit.

“Outside.”

[twwings]

so I spent the last few months just marathoning The Magnus Archives??? I was curious and I have a long-ish commute that I need to fill with audio, so I went for it. I was somewhat spoiled by fanart I saw randomly over the years but not entirely spoiled, and I quite enjoyed it. Some thoughts (both positive and negative thoughts below) because I wanted to write them down as I chew over the show. Also my ramblings might be pleasurable to folks who are big fans and enjoy hearing about people listening to their thing for the first time?

Spoilers for all of TMA, but as I haven't listened to The Magnus Protocol yet (I'm sure I will) no spoilers for that.

thoughts in no particular order:

didn't know that my trypophobia could be activated aurally! thanks, season one. it's good to learn about yourself

because I had seen lots of fanarts around, I knew that Jon/Martin would eventually be a canon thing, so I just spent the early episodes making fun of Jon whenever he was mean about Martin. Jon would be like "ugh, Martin, amirite?" and I'd yell at the car speakers like "lol you're gonna MARRY that guy"

sometimes I found the show a little boring or too expositiony (like the episode where Leitner shows up) and it made me think a lot about the conditions of production, like, having fans who were super into the show and red stringing it up clearly made them want to explain things sometimes in a way not necessary to the story - or, at least, it didn't feel necessary to me as a casual listener who was coming in after the fact and not part of the fandom. maybe it felt necessary for other folks, or to the cast and crew at the time.

relatedly, oh god, I did not keep up with all the plotlines and stuff. like it took me a WHILE to realize that the show was not just gonna be standalone/anthology stuff and would have an overarching plot so I did not pay attention early on to repeated names or plots. and because I was listening on my commute I was like "welp, can't google it, gonna let it go" and I did. I'm here to tell you that the magnus archives is still enjoyable even if you don't care that much about what's going on

when I did really start to care was the end of season four/season five. absolutely love that they went there with the end of season four (I thought it'd just be a buffy-style "now we fight a BIGGER big bad at the end of this season" escalation forever, but no, they unleashed hell on earth, baller move, A+, loved it

so I was spoiled that Martin (and Jon? I wasn't sure) died at some point, though I didn't really know where or how. I also saw someone post something like "oh TMA, great show, too bad it ends after five minutes into episode 160" so from that I kind of extrapolated that Martin died in episode 160? so my experience of listening to that one was REALLY on tenterhooks because the first five minutes was Martin going for a nice walk! and then Jon getting taken over by the statement! so while listening to the middle bit of 160 I was convinced that when Martin came back from his walk Jon was gonna kill him (while possessed, obviously) as part of the ritual thing. so really the following 40 episodes of Martin being alive were pretty sweet to me. Every episode after that when Martin was alive I was like, score, bonus, love it, I'm glad Jon didn't stab him three seconds after they got into a relationship

kept listening for a physical description of Jon to match all the fanart and never got one? I guess the fanon of what Jon looks like is just super consistent for some reason?

hated Tim, I can't disguise it, I hated Tim and I was glad when he died and I was glad he didn't come back, sorry Tim fans, live your truth and I will live mine

wish there weren't so many cops on this show, tho the show did seem to recognize that a little in S5 and try to do some things about it

I'm just a huge sucker for every genre experiment in S5. omg I loved it. Terminus gets a coroner's report, The Unknowing gets slam poetry, The Flesh gets a gardening manual?????? mwah. it made me excited for the format of the statements again when they'd gotten stale. so many smart and interesting genre experiments in S5! and I, like Jon, don't even like poetry (just write some prose! I've never identified with a character more), so you know I'm impressed when I'm exclaiming about some poem

seriously! the genre experiments!!! so good

"queer couple navigate their new relationship and also The Hellscapes" = amazing, ty, also ty for doing it twice

somehow I managed not to notice the line about Jon being asexual at first and then I saw some tumblr post about it and I was like, wait what? my brain had gone pretty far down into some non-asexual fanfiction stories before I got that bit of canon and had to record-scratch freeze-frame. anyway I am pleased by the ace rep and hope to go read some non-sexual D/s for them in the future, please tell me if you know some good stuff

please also tell me if you know about fanfictions where Martin consensually feeds Jon his own memories and it's weird and intense

saw a cute fluffy domestic fanart where Jon was blind (ie had blinded himself to escape the eye) and I laughed and laughed that this is a fandom in which the happy fluffy AUs are the ones where the characters have violently blinded themselves. not to say I'm not gonna read the fluffy AUs where they've violently blinded themselves, I am, I'm sure they're lovely, it's just funny

don't think I wasn't thinking about Crowley and Aziraphale in the episode where Jon is like "what if we ran away together" in season four. When Jon is like "What if we ran away together, you and me, we could do it, what if we did" and he absolutely knows that Martin is not gonna say yes and maybe he doesn't want Martin to say yes but he wants to ask him anyway, he wants to try it anyway, because the fantasy of escape, together, is overpowering. anyway don't think I didn't think about Crowley

also laughed and laughed at the like four episodes at the end where Jon is like "maybe I should . . . . . . . . . . . become the Torment Nexus? From the classic scifi novel, Don't Become the Torment Nexus?" and first Martin and then everyone else is like "Jon, don't become the Torment Nexus" and it's really clear that you should not become the Torment Nexus but then later Jon says fuck it and becomes the Torment Nexus

I say it's really clear but the idea that you should strand and isolate and burn out the powers is not a bad one. I did like that the second to last episode was just a debate on morality with no clear resolution. that's a lovely way to send off your characters. tho it didn't matter a lot to the end plot? but still.

Jon "I think I'll just become the Torment Nexus" Simms, istg

THE TORMENT NEXUS

Sue Simms' voice is incredibly hot, Gertrude Robinson is absolutely deadass smokin, love how the Legend of Gertrude just built up over the seasons until by the end she was this like powerful callous avenging angel, no notes, might build a shrine in the woods with pictures of Gertrude in little jars

Gerry and Jurgen were both madly in love with her and she didn't notice or care because she was too busy kicking ass, no notes AT ALL

I really like the bit at the beginning of S5 where Jon is depression-listening to old archives tapes, like it's really effective to do the birthday party flashback just there when the world's just been apocalypsed, but I can't stop thinking about how Jon is listening to that tape and, in retrospect, being like "did Elias/Jonah use his all-powerful knowledge and vision to find out that there was cake in the office?" idk it really feels like Elias's motives in that flashback are like "eat cake" and no one else realizes that he's used his monstrous evil eye power to locate cake. anyway I imagine that Jon had all of these thoughts during his depression

Basira made me laugh ALL THE TIME, the voice acting was so good and she was so over everyone's shit. but at the same time there's this real softness to her at the end of S5 after she's killed Daisy, like she's still tough and grounded in her own perspective but suddenly more compassionate or sympathetic. she has such a good journey over the show

were Basira and Daisy a thing? I could not tell. maybe I should not ask. maybe I am not meant to know. maybe even asking shows how little I know, because their intense and murderous bond exceeds traditional relationship categories

I had a really nice time!!!

I will need to read fanfictions

I will need to watch animatics

I will need to seek out fanarts

the end

[philtstone]

title: check yes, juliet

Summary:

It doesn't matter that Juliet is a freshly-minted, top-of-her-class field agent (alright, so she hasn't actually been in the field yet) or one of the few women working for the Federal Bureau of Investigation's cutting edge check fraud department (just last week, their 20-year-old coffee maker broke and they ran out of number two pencils to mark up their overhead projector notes with): every time her mother calls, all she does is lament that her beautiful, intelligent daughter isn't meeting any eligible bachelors.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Maryanne sighs eventually. “All O’Hara women fall for liars, Julie. It’s our curse.”

Juliet has to wonder if she didn't scoff at her mother's claim a little bit too soon.

my brother & i had the earth shattering realization a month ago that the plot of "catch me if you can" (2002) is almost to a tee just a mildly alternate psych timeline and that thought has lived in my head rent free to such an insane degree that eventually 14 thousand words poured out of me in au fic form. im posting it so as many other people as possible can see the vision. and also because im sure theres one person other than me who revels in early seasons shawnjuliet's frankly insane levels of chemistry, lol. enjoy!

READ FULL FIC ON AO3

Excerpt:

“Your average bounced check would be routed to the bank it originates from, so you’d only really have a few days in one place before you were discovered. This guy’s been filing off the routing numbers, changing ‘em somehow – so cleanly and neatly that it’ll take a real sharp eye to notice. It’s all about the branch you’re cashing it in. A check cashed in at Chase Manhattan with the one changed to ten’s gonna bounce halfway around the country before anyone figures out it’s rotten, and by that point this asshole is long gone. The numbers go East, Central, West – you see how they cover 0-60, 70-80, and of course they require a special kind of ink to be recognized as real checks, which you’d all know if you’d read the report I circulated …”

Juliet doesn’t notice the full cup of orange juice in front of her until it’s too late. 

Her head’s still full of Carlton’s two hour long briefing this morning, during which she learned more about check fraud than she’d have ever thought a single person could in one lifespan. Certainly not Juliet, who’d originally studied literature at Florida State. Then again, back then she’d have never expected to end up an FBI agent, either.

Then there’s the wired, tense feeling in her gut that probably won’t go away ‘til this sting is over and they bring in the pathetic local guy Carlton’s been tracking for the last week. His MO is pretty girls in pastel dresses, which made Juliet the right man – woman – for the job. At least maybe doing this’ll help the guys in the office take her seriously as a field agent. And, well … she does love a nice peachy pink cardigan. The color goes well with her complexion.

“This idiot’s no real con man, he’s just a clown who can’t be bothered to work an honest job. Child’s play compared to the real thing. ” Carlton tends to pause here, angry that he’s got to acknowledge it like that – the real thin g. “ You know what they’ve been calling him in the papers these days?”  

Him . Always him. They don’t have a name on the subject yet, despite over a million cashed in fraudulent checks. Juliet hums and nods so her partner feels acknowledged. 

“ The skywayman . Pathetic. Like he’s some magician or something, instead of a two-bit liar who thinks he’s smarter than me. ”

“This isn’t personal, Carlton ,” Juliet says tiredly. “ It’s not like he knows who you are to be deliberately toying with you.”  

“Oh yes he is. I know he is. I know him .”

Her hands aren’t quite shaking, because that would be stupid; this guy, their local guy, shouldn’t have a gun on him, and if he does he’s not the type to shoot a woman. Juliet focuses on the paper in front of her and tucks a lock of her hair behind one ear. A window of ten minutes – that’s what Carlton said. Unlike Carlton’s unsub nemesis, they know plenty about this one. He’ll come in, dressed like the middle-aged schlub he is, loose tie probably, gray slacks, thinning hair. He’ll notice her, buy her a soda she’ll accept with a faulty check and then pick her pocket for the cash. The string of pearls at her neck makes her a sweet college girl whose parents have money. She mentally forces herself to stop chewing her lip and instead moves her right hand down to her lap, where she can pick at her nail polish without anyone seeing. 

“Well, obviously we wanna catch him,” Agent Dobson says, when they’re a third of the way through the morning briefing and half the room is asleep or dreaming of lunch. Juliet, of course, has been furiously taking notes. He means the Skywayman; he means the real thing. “But you gotta admit, Lassiter, there is a bit of a magic show to a good con, isn’t there? The press has that one thing right.”

“It’s not magic. It’s lies and deceit and a healthy helping of audacity, and a damn good typewriter. O’Hara, write that down. We’re gonna go through that list of makes and models again, see what we can come up with.”

Deep breath. Her purse, orange to match the cardigan, is in her lap. The gun’s in the purse. She’ll draw it, but not to shoot. This is the kind of work she’s begged the Chief for, and she’ll be just fine.

Maybe Juliet would feel less desperate to prove herself if this diner wasn’t in Miami, and her father didn’t gift her the only string of pearls she owns.

A voice clears itself quietly above her.

“Uh, excuse me? Hi, yeah, hi. That’s my seat.”

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[wooahaes]

just so autumn-y... you know?

pairing: non-idol!mark lee x gn!reader

genre: fluff + established relationship au

word count: ~0.8k

warnings: vague food mentions, nothing specific. usage of “dude” but its not meant to imply gender (i firmly believe mark would call literally anyone dude/bro as a term of endearment lol).

daisy's notes: hehe surprise :) men i am so delulu in love with fr actually

As simple and silly as it was to say, Mark liked going on dates with you at this time of year. That wasn’t to say he didn’t like going out with you any other time (“What? Nah, dude, I love going out with you! Just something about the autumn air… It’s so autumn-y, y’know?” had been his response when you asked), but he liked the atmosphere here the most. There was a reason it was his favorite season, and spending days of it with his favorite person just made it better. And, no, it wasn’t just because the two of you had matching sweaters and scarves and all the cute things that marked the two of you as a pair… Although that definitely did help now that he was with you.

Mark liked waiting for you. That one might be weirder to say, but it was true: he liked going to wherever the two of you were meeting up extra early for a few reasons. The first was the autumn air (it really, really was autumn-y, okay?), where it was kind-of cold but he could still savor the warmth of the sun as he waited for you. The second? Autumn leaves. Easy. The world was colorful, and he liked to admire it for what it was. The third (that made Mark realize these were not in order of importance or anything) had been you. He’d been late to things in the past, sure, but showing up early always guaranteed him that he’d get to see your cute face whenever you found him. The shiny look in your eyes when you made your way toward him, so genuinely happy to see him again? It’d give him whatever strength he was lacking, that was certain. He’d just find a cozy bench underneath the trees, and wait for you to come up while he scrolled through social media (or, sometimes, he’d write poetry that he’d share with you because he knew how much you adored it). And that was all he’d do: he’d just sit there, waiting for you, and watching.

He liked tangling his fingers with your own when you came up to him, always asking him about his day. He’d talk, watching the steps you took to ensure you would step on the crackly leaves that he’d heard skittering across the pavement earlier. He’d smile a little more over it, too, and hold your hand a little tighter before asking you about your day. 

“It’s been okay,” you usually said, “better now, though.”

You knew he’d always giggle a little, face scrunching up a little with pure joy because he knew what you meant by now. You’d said it outright enough that he always brightened your days, like your own little golden ray of sunshine. It felt like it’d always fluster him at least a little: you said it so casually, like it was merely another fact about your day that you chose to share with him. He liked that about you: you’d always been up front with how you felt about him…  past the circumstances of the two of you getting together. Donghyuck and the others still teased him (and you: you were not immune in the slightest) over how it finally happened with that dumb “if I make this shot, you gotta go out with me,” that ended in both of you missing the shot. 

Maybe it was silly, but something about that night just cemented something within his heart. You were his soulmate. You had to be, right? He wasn’t sure where he stood on soulmates sometimes, but he knew you had to be one of his if nothing else. He’d bought food for the two of you that night and admired you a little too much in his opinion (although he’d always admire you on dates, to be fair), and that had been your ‘day one’ of dating. There was just something about both of you missing a silly basketball shot and laughing your asses off that made Mark think you were it for him, though. Maybe one day he’d put in words. And then he’d put it in a poem, just to see that smile again.

You veered away from him a little, purposefully stepping on another crunchy leaf, and he just tightened his grip on your hand to pull you back in. With a giggle, you’d bumped into him, and he’d immediately steadied you.

“God, you’re so cute,” he said, eyes shining with pure joy over every little thing that made you you. “I really love you, y’know?”

And, oh, that smile warmed his chest. “I know,” you said, leaning in to steal a quick peck. “I love you, too, you dork.”Your dork. But you already knew that.

taglist: @twancingyunhao

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

I desperately want oblivious!Buddie to play out for just a LITTLE longer so we get some “off-screen” gems. As in, absolutely bonkers events and quirks that we don’t currently know, but slowly find out before the boys figure THEM out. Such as Buddie grocery shopping together, Buck knowing Chris’ (AND Eddie’s) SSN, Chris having Buck’s phone number memorized because he didn’t have a phone when they first met and would call him on the house phone like for the Hildy prank, Chris has called Buck his dad to one of the firefam or Carla, Buck and Abuela have weekly phone calls now that she lives in Texas, Eddie is Buck’s POA (and vice versa), Eddie has a second pair of keys to Buck’s Jeep (Buck doesn’t for Eddie’s truck ONLY because Eddie is a passenger princess and if he’s not the one driving his truck then he just hands his keys off to Buck anyway), as early as late season 3 Christopher was drawing Buck into his family portraits (bonus points if it’s before the well happened), Buck has Christopher’s drawings on his loft fridge, Buck uses the family calendar on Eddie’s fridge too, Eddie specifically doesn’t buy certain foods because Buck has a food restriction that the Diazes do NOT also have (canon vegan Buck anyone?), Buck picks Christopher up from school enough to be known to both the teachers AND administration, they have a shared google calendar that Eddie hates (technophobe) but Buck updates regularly, there hasn’t been a week where Buck hasn’t stayed the night at least once at the Diazes since the lawsuit (yes, even through the divorce arc idc, let me live).

The whole “didn’t know they were dating” thing is becoming more and more appealing to me for Buddie with every passing minute, and I just think it would be funny if we got Hen or Maddie or even Christopher to call them out on little things like this that they do that they didn’t really think hard enough about to realize it was partner shit, not best friend shit. Plus, I know a lot of people want Buddie NOW because of Buck being canonically bi, but I’m still happy to wait a little longer if it means giving both characters the patience and care their stories deserve. ABC making them canon the very first season after the network switch WOULD be iconic, but given that I’ve been both ecstatic and nervous about Buddie after last Thursday’s episode, I think they should pace it. Give them both full realizations about their sexualities, a lil crisis about it for each too, maybe a different man or two before each other, the jealousy they’re BOTH now famous for, just a pinch more therapy about the shock of it all, and then somebody or something to knock their heads together and make them realize that their partner has been right there all along.

Honestly, I won’t lie and say that some of these aren’t based off of fics I’ve read, but they’re also so basic to Buddie that I couldn’t tell you specific fics, and I also definitely tried to come up with some that aren’t from fics in my memory, but claim them if you want lol, I don’t mind

[f0point5]

What's your silly season prediction? I have been thinking bc to me there's no way Carlos doesn't have a seat for next year.

So we know that Lewis/Charles are in ferrari and Mclaren have their drivers locked down.

I think mercedes is gonna take Checo. Why? first they don't have the car to be breaking others drivers contract, they need a midfield that can help George but still be good at getting points, I feel Checo is better in a top car but not the top car. They need someone who bring some marketing, they are gonna take a blow now that Lewis is gone but Checo have the North America audience and is probably the driver that brings more money beside Lewis. I don't feel Kimi is ready for a Mercedes seat yet, Checo is old enough to retire when he's ready.

That leaves the RBR seat free, the obvious choice would be Carlos, I was very on board with this till the whole Horner mess and realized how messy Jos is and still have some power within the team so I bet he won't let Carlos get that seat lol. My bet is on Fernando then, I know Markos don't want him but Horner will, no way Daniel is getting that seat sorry.

So then Carlos to AM with Lance, hopeful it gets better and he can fight for podiums at least, he really deserves a top seat.

Zhou stay with Sauber but Bottas is gone, I'm not sure they would take their academy driver so my bet is Nico, he's wanted by Audi so he's just getting in one year early.

Haas stay with Magnussen because they won't have two rookie but Ollie gets the other seat.

Yuki stay and Daniel is out, Liam get his seat.

Williams stay with Albon, the other seat I'm not sure... I feel Kimi should do another year in f2 but Toto may get cocky and get him the seat. If not they would get maybee Gasly, I feel he wants out of alpine and this is the best he can get.

Alpine stay the same if Gasly doesn't leave, if he is gone then they are getting one of their academy drivers maybe Jack.

I agree with a lot of what you’ve said.

However, based on how things stand now, i think RB will resign Perez. They don’t need any more damn upheaval and he is delivering right now, as well as not making a nuisance of himself.

I think a lot of this hinges on Kimi and how he does in f2 and how much testing they are able to get him. But lets say he ends up needing another year in f2.

I think Alonso to Merc, and Carlos to AM. Alonso is not happy with the performance of the car, even Krack said it, he doesn’t want to drive in 10th. Toto likes a proven entity and Alonso is certainly that. But the other thing about Alonso, he’s old. He’ll take a one year contract because he doesn’t know how long he wants to do this, and Toto doesn’t have years to be offering, because he has to keep the seat warm for Kimi. You could say Carlos is ideal for Merc because there’s only one year until Audi comes in, but i have a sixth sense that Carlos would either want to bed down at Merc, or not go there at all. So I see Alonso to Merc on a one year contract, and Sainz to AM to hedge his bets on staying there if Daddy Warbucks manages to produce a good car, or switching to Audi if it’s the trenches.

On RBR, I don’t think anyone over there wants to add the sainzs to the list of obnoxious families involved in whatever is going on over there. And I don’t think they want to be playing games with Alonso either. They want to let Max do what Max does with minimal interruptions and as fun as Fernando is I don’t think his antics would be washing over there. I think Horner has lost too much pull over there to be making waves. He’s survived the assassination attempt but at the cost of realising he is ALONE in that garage. I don’t think he’ll be willing to stir up any animosity from Jos or Helmut by trying to bring back Daniel. And with Daniel’s performance he has no leg to stand on.

Yuki is a lock until 2026 which means Daniel is out and Liam is in (I think Liam has already signed).

Agree that Bearman and KMag will be the lineup for Haas.

Would love to see a whole new lineup for Sauber, but unlikely. I think they’re just as likely to stick with Zhou and Bottas as to get rid of them, because I think Audi will want a totally new lineup In 2026 anyway. I’m not sure what the pipeline is like for Sauber if Ferrari academy drivers go to Haas. Would not be surprised at all if it was Nico, I’d like to see him stay on the grid. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was Daniel, as an Audi audition and for the marketing.

I think Alex has one more year on the contract at Williams so he’s locked in. Sargeant definitely gone. I don’t know who else is in the Williams academy so can’t say who will get the seat. I am very skeptical about Kimi getting it. I think it will take James Vowles having NO other option before he takes on a Mercedes’ junior. I don’t think it’s unlikely that Kimi will go straight to Merc in 2026 (or 2025 honestly. They could use it as a test year for him if they are just giving up on the current regs). But yeah I see another rookie at Williams. Unless they get a hint that Alex is leaving…in which case they’ll be scrambling for someone with experience but idk who they will find. I don’t think they’ll take Gasly with that attitude of his.

I see alpine sticking with the baguettes. Maybe they dump Pierre but that’s a big maybe because the heck else are they going to get? Doohan doesn’t seem like he’d do a better job and their car is so bad a rookie might not even be able to keep it out of the wall. If they don’t improve the car, I see them sticking with the current lineup.

So yeah I mostly agree. But I’m just SO excited to see a couple of rookies on the grid, and Liam too.