#*big sigh* she’s having a hard time folks

[pink-anonymous-person]

in the mood to draw Sprigatito and Scorbunny with Yin and Peter! <3

no context :3

[katsu28]

welcome to miami

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando wins miami, and you're there to see it happen (2.1k)

a/n: had to crank this one out for lando's first win 🧡 i'm still buzzing with excitement and pride omg

You’d decided to fly out to Miami on a whim, really. 

The last race you’d gone to had been a whole ordeal for you. The airline had nearly lost your luggage, Lando’s request for your paddock pass hadn’t gone through in time so you had to sit outside for hours until things got sorted out, just a few of the many things that definitely weren’t great.

But all things aside, Lando had done great in the race and you were there to witness him in his element—something you’d always love to see.

With all the chaos that seemed to come with the Miami Grand Prix, Lando assured you he’d understand if you wanted to sit this one out. You really were planning to stay behind, honest to god. But when you’d wished him luck and kissed him goodbye before he left for Miami, something in you shifted. 

Something was telling you to go, to be there for him in the flesh, even though it could get crazy and it was definitely a little bit out of your comfort zone. But your love for your boyfriend spanned far and beyond, so you did it. 

The unfortunate thing about the last minute planning was that your flight landed at the same time the race began. Between the mad scramble to make your redeye and confirm things like your pass and credentials when you got to the track, you’d forgotten to actually tell Lando you were coming. 

By the time you’d touched down in Miami, it was far too late. You’d have to settle for surprising him afterwards. 

You arrived at the paddock a little over halfway through the race, collapsing into an armchair at McLaren hospitality with the biggest sigh known to man. Your neck ached, your feet were killing you, you were starving and it was too damn hot here in Miami.

Maybe you could go grab some food in a second, but right now you were so exhausted you wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d fallen asleep right there and then.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice drew you out of your stupor a while later, and you looked up to see Oscar’s girlfriend Lily staring back, a mix of confused and glad to see you. “Oh my god, you’re here! Lando said you weren't coming, he’s going to be so happy to see you!” 

“Yeah, it was a last minute thing, honestly. Lando doesn't even know I’m here.” 

“You must be on the edge of your seat right now.”

“Sorry?” 

 Lily nodded over your shoulder. “He’s winning. Lando’s leading the race, look.”

Suddenly you were wide awake, previous fatigue gone and forgotten as you spun around to look at one of the big screens showing the race. Lo and behold, there Lando was, holding steady at the front of the pack a good few seconds ahead of Max’s RedBull. 

“Holy shit.” You blinked a few times in disbelief, because maybe you were seeing things, but nothing changed. Lando was still P1 with only a handful of laps to go. “Holy shit!” 

“He’s gonna do it, Y/N. Lando’s gonna win.” Lily promised, squeezing your hand tightly. 

And she was right. 

The entire McLaren portion of the paddock erupted into deafening cheers the moment Lando sped past the waving checkered flag, you included. You were cheering so loud you felt your ears start to ring.

People were jumping around with each other left and right, folks you didn’t know hugging you and congratulating you on Lando’s win. It was odd, because you weren’t the one who’d won, it was your boyfriend, but you accepted the praise nonetheless. 

He’d done it. For the first time in his career, Lando had won. All the hard work, all the long days and sleepless nights, all the time and energy and training the entire team had put in to make a dream a reality had finally paid off. 

It felt like a sort of out-of-body experience for you, watching Lando throw himself across the barrier into his team, seeing him up on the top step of the podium with his first P1 trophy. Part of it didn’t feel real, but it was. 

You could hardly sit still while you waited for Lando and the rest of the team to return to the paddock. Of course he had to do a couple post-race interviews, the podium press conference, all that stuff, but you could stick it out. All would be worth it to see the look on his face when he saw that you were here instead of back home. 

It was only fitting that you heard them all coming before you saw them. Cheering, chanting, you even heard some singing going on, and then there he was. He was nothing but smiles all around as you watched him break away from the others and pull out his phone. 

It took everything you had in you not to yell out his name. Instead, you video called him with shaky hands, waiting eagerly for him to pick up. He answered immediately, his gleefully smiling face filling your screen. 

“Hi, I won!” He exclaimed, beaming so big and bright his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I won Miami!”

“I know! I’m so proud of you, Lan!” 

“I really wish you were here to see it, but it’s alright. Everything is so crazy here, I—” He stopped in his tracks as soon as he glanced back down at his screen, bringing the phone so close to his face you could only see one of his eyes and the fading cut across his nose. 

“What’re you doing, bub?” You laughed, feigning cluelessness. 

“Where are you? It’s…” His nose scrunched adorably as he tried to calculate the time difference in his head. “Eleven at night back home, why is it bright out on your end?”

“Maybe I’m not at home.” You shrugged, angling your own phone towards the McLaren logo behind you casually. “Maybe I’m…”

“No. What the fuck? Are you—” He cut himself off a second time, squinting at his phone. It was funny, watching his head whip up both on your screen and from where you were standing, even funnier when he clocked you instantly and all but threw his phone off to the side as he broke out in a full on sprint towards you. “Holy fuck, you’re here! How—what—” Lando was so shocked he couldn’t even finish his sentence, but he didn’t need to.

You let him all but tackle you around the waist, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life as he spun you around a few times. He was hot and sticky with champagne and smelled like sweat and gasoline, but you didn’t care. You were so beyond proud of him you couldn’t even put it into words. Not bursting into tears of pride was all you could do. 

It turned out you couldn’t even do that, because as soon as your feet touched the ground again and he pulled back to look at you with stars in his eyes, the tears started to gather in yours. 

“Oh my god, are you crying?” He laughed, big hands coming up to cup your face tenderly. His thumb swiped over your cheek, catching a lone tear that had managed to escape. “Don’t cry, woman, or else I’ll start crying again.” 

“Of course I’m crying, you dick!” You exclaimed, sniffling a few times in hopes of keeping the waterworks at bay. “I’m happy, I’m proud, I’m really fucking jet lagged right now, I don’t know what I’m doing!” 

“So this is why you weren’t answering my texts!” He exclaimed, holding you at arms length. Even that only lasted a fleeting moment before he was bringing you right back in for another bone-crushing hug. “I knew you weren’t ignoring me! Oscar was being a dickhead, he said I was being clingy.”

“I’m sorry, I was twenty thousand feet in the air at the time.” You gave a watery chuckle, tightening your arms around his neck. “I’m so, so fucking proud of you, baby. Never had a doubt in my mind that you’d be a Grand Prix winner one day. Kinda wish that day was one where I could’ve put on a cuter outfit, ‘cause I can already picture all the god awful photos of this moment right now, but whatever.” 

“Thank you. Thank you for standing by me, thank you for loving me—thank you for everything. I love you. I love you so much.” Lando said, lips pressed to the crown of your head. “I’m beyond fucking lucky to have you, darling. And you always look cute, what’re you even talking about?” 

“You may be a winner now but you’re still a god awful liar, Lando Norris.” 

“Shut up and c’mere,” He murmured, tugging you flush against him with a hand splayed across your back. Before you could say a word, he tilted your chin up with his thumb and pointer finger and he kissed you, finally.

It wasn’t a graceful kiss by any means, but it didn’t matter. He tasted sweet like champagne and victory as he kissed you with his whole soul, nearly knocking you backwards had he not been keeping you firmly in place. 

He pulled away far too early, but pressed one more, much shorter kiss to your lips before he gave you a not-so-subtle once over. Concern bloomed across his face, and instantly you readied yourself for the barrage of questions coming your way in three, two, one. 

“How was your flight? Are you tired? I still can’t believe you forgot to tell me you were coming. Do you want to head to the hotel? I think I've got some more media stuff to do, but I can send for a car to take you back now and I’ll meet you later?” 

“I’m fine, you muppet! Stop fussing over me.” You griped playfully, nudging him with your elbow. “Do what you have to do, I’ll wait here for you.” 

Lando tutted, pressing close to murmur into your ear, breath hot. “What I want to do and what I have to do are two very different things. One involves you, and I can’t do it with all these people around, but—” 

“Lando.” 

“What?” He pouted. You reached up to tug at his earlobe, to which he huffed out a sigh. “Fine. We’ll discuss it later then. I was actually supposed to fly home tonight to get back to you, if you wanted to know.” 

“Really?” Warmth bloomed in your chest at his words. He could’ve done anything he wanted the night following the race, but he’d booked a flight to go home to you. 

“Of course. No matter what the outcome could’ve been, I wanted to see you.” He replied, smiling warmly at you. You turned your head towards him, puckering your lips for a kiss that he happily planted on you. “But since you’re here and not thousands of miles away…how ‘bout we celebrate? Dinner out, maybe go clubbing? Miami’s got a killer party scene, I’ve heard. Unless you’re tired from your flight, we could always just stay in.” 

“My winner wants to go clubbing, then we go clubbing.” You said firmly. Good thing you’d thrown that dress Lando loved on you into your bag, just in case. (Though you suspected he wouldn't have minded buying you a brand new one if you asked.) 

“Your winner, huh?” Lando beamed. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Formula 1 winner Lando Norris takes on Miami! To the clubs we go!” 

-------

“We shouldn't have gone clubbing.” 

You glanced up from where your face had been buried in Lando’s shoulder since the plane had taken off, squinting at your boyfriend through bleary eyes. Even the dim light of the cabin was almost too much for the throbbing in your head, making you wince. “Huh?” 

“Last night. We should’ve just ordered takeaway. Watched a movie or something.” 

“You wanted to go out though?” 

He let out a pained groan, shifting in his seat gingerly. “Yeah, and look where that got me.” 

“What’re you even—oh.” You blinked a few times, and when your vision cleared, you saw it. A ugly looking bruise right above his eyebrow, darkening the surrounding skin. “Did you get that last night?” Lando nodded, prodding at the area gently before you had the sense to swat his hand away. “Stop touching it. I don’t even remember how you did that. I don’t really remember a lot of last night, really.” 

“Me neither.” He snuggled deeper into you, letting his cheek fall against the top of your head comfortably. “Next time I suggest something, tell me I’m being stupid.” 

“I love you even when you suggest stupid things.” 

Lando scowled, but not for long until it morphed into a wince. “I’m too hungover to even argue with that right now. I love you too.” 

“Lando Norris, Grand Prix winner, parties so hard he doesn’t know how he injured himself. Nice.” 

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?” 

You dotted a kiss to his cheek, smiling bright as you could manage. “No. Do you want me to stop calling you that?” 

“...No.”

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[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l ten

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[multi-fandoms-posts]

Unexpected Visitor(but somehow not)

X Men Masterlist

It is a quiet afternoon in the small, secluded cabin that Y/N and Logan call home. The sun casts golden light through the windows, and a peaceful silence fills the air, interrupted only by the soft breathing of the baby sleeping in Y/N’s arms. Logan sits beside her on the couch, looking at the tiny figure with a look of sincere tenderness that few have ever seen on him.

“She’s beautiful,” Y/N murmurs softly, so as not to wake the baby.

Logan nods and gently strokes a finger over the tiny hand of their newborn child. “Yes, she is. Just like her mother.”

A smile touches Y/N’s face as she leans against Logan. It’s hard to believe that this moment of peace and happiness is truly their life. After all the struggles and dangers they’ve faced together, this serene family life seems almost like a dream.

But that dream is abruptly interrupted when the door bursts open with a loud bang and Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool, storms in without warning. He is carrying an oversized baby carrier filled with colorful toys, and a silly baby hat with a wiggling propeller sits on his head.

“Daddy Logan and Mommy Y/N!” Wade exclaims enthusiastically, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m here to entertain the baby and give you some parenting tips!”

Logan sighs deeply and closes his eyes for a moment, as if preparing himself to deal with Wade. “Wade, the baby is sleeping. Can you maybe… be a little quieter?”

Wade makes a face and loudly whispers, “Oh, of course! Sorry. I forgot you’ve gone soft now.”

Y/N suppresses a laugh and shakes her head. “Wade, this isn’t a toy store. We’re trying to get her to sleep.”

Wade sneaks closer and glances at the sleeping baby in Y/N’s arms. His expression softens for a moment, almost tender, before he suddenly reverts to his usual grinning mask. “She’s cuter than a frosting burrito! But seriously, folks, I never thought I’d see Logan as a loving dad. What happened to the wild Wolverine, huh?”

Logan lets out a soft growl, but Y/N soothingly places a hand on his shoulder. “He’s still the same Logan. Just with a new job being a dad.”

“I bet you’ve even learned how to change diapers, huh?” says Wade grins

Logan takes a deep breath to stay calm, “Yes, Wade. And if you don’t stop, you’ll be changing them next.”

“Don’t worry, big guy,” Wade grins back. “I’m just here to see if you now have a pacifier instead of your claws. But hey, I get it. Fatherhood can soften you up. But where’s the fun if you don’t stir up a bit of chaos now and then?”

“Wade,” Y/N begins patiently as she adjusts the baby into a more comfortable position, “we really just want some peace and quiet. You know this is new for us, right?”

Wade pretends to think, then nods as if he’s had a great idea. “You’re right! You need time to adjust to the new life. So I’ll be on my best behavior today. Promise!”

Logan looks at him skeptically. “I doubt that means anything good from you.”

But Wade ignores the comment and sits in an armchair opposite Y/N and Logan. He watches the baby attentively as she continues to sleep peacefully.

“You know, Logan,” Wade starts after a while, “I never thought you’d become so… tamed. But somehow, it suits you. The big, gruff Wolverine as a loving dad. It’s almost… heartwarming.”

Logan rolls his eyes, but it’s Y/N who responds. “Wade, life changes. People change. And Logan has always been more than just his claws.”

Wade nods in agreement. “Well, I guess I have to accept that. But tell me one thing, Logan what will you do when the little one gets a boyfriend? Will you show him your claws? Or maybe your best ‘I’ll tear you apart’ look?”

Logan smirks and replies in a dry tone, “I’ll show him that I’m very, very old and can be very, very dangerous. That usually suffices.”

Wade laughs loudly and nods approvingly. “I like that, Daddy Logan. Strict but fair.”

The baby stirs in Y/N’s arms and slowly opens her eyes as if awakened by Wade’s laughter. She looks up at Logan. “I’ll put her to bed,” murmurs Logan as he carefully stands up and takes the baby from Y/N. Wade watches him with an almost reverent look as Logan gently presses the little girl to his chest and takes her to her room.

Once Logan is out of earshot, Wade leans closer to Y/N and whispers conspiratorially, “He’s really gone soft, hasn’t he? The Wolverine we knew would have thrown me through the wall by now.”

Y/N laughs softly and shakes her head. “He’s still himself. But the love for our child has changed him in a way you might understand someday, Wade.”

Wade shrugs and puts his usual mask back on. “Maybe, maybe not. But I have to admit he’s not doing so badly as a dad. And if it comes down to it, I can always lend him a handful of grenades to keep the boys away.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Please, Wade. Leave the grenades out.”

Logan returns to the living room after successfully getting the little one to sleep. He gives Wade a warning look before sitting back down next to Y/N.

“You’re not actually planning to be quiet today, are you?” Logan asks, eyeing Wade warily.

Wade raises his hands in an innocent gesture. “I’ve been very restrained! But you have to admit, I’m the best babysitter option you have. No one else will take care of the little one as well while you get a break.”

Logan snorts. “Wade, if you ever babysit our child, I’ll make sure you’re under constant supervision.”

Wade grins widely. “Deal! But I bet she’ll love me. I mean, who can resist this face?”

Y/N tilts her head and regards Wade thoughtfully. “Alright, Wade. Maybe we’ll let you babysit sometime when we’re sure you can behave. But until then… maybe you could just keep us company without causing chaos.”

Wade pretends to bow. “A task I will undertake with pride! But if you ever need a bit of action, you know where to find me.”

Logan and Y/N exchange amused smiles as Wade settles into his chair and actually remains a relatively quiet guest for the rest of the afternoon. Of course, they know this won’t last forever. Wade remains Wade always ready with a crazy comment or an even crazier idea.

But for now, in this moment, everything is perfect. They are together as a family and even Wade somehow fits in.

[murdockparker]

Paralyzed

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: She walked in on a Friday afternoon. Steve needed nothing more than to get to know her--if only he could find it in himself to speak to her.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: just pure fluff, mentions of murder (but not frfr)

A/N: no this isn't based on a big time rush song you're crazy anyway!! I think this is my first real Steve fic? The first real one I got around to posting I guess. Cheers!

__

It was a Friday afternoon.

Correction, it was a terribly busy Friday afternoon. Family Video was seemingly the place to be, people swarming the building in hopes of renting new releases for their perspective weekends. Steve usually loathed his Friday shifts for this exact reason, countless questions about the new tapes, a dozen or so mothers berating him when a certain movie is out of stock—as if Steve Harrington himself is the reason behind the madness.

But, this afternoon was different. 

This afternoon she walked in. 

He had enough of the madness, leaving Robin all alone to deal with the wolves for a mere five minutes—he needed to get out of there. With his head in his hands, he sat on an unopened box filled to the brim with different assortments of candy—candy he needed to stock sometime today, a fact he surely couldn’t have forgotten even if he tried. Only two minutes into his escape, Robin came bounding in the backroom, a wild look grazing her eyes.

“Steve,” she nearly panted. “You gotta take over for a minute. This woman is just—ugh—not taking no for an answer! I told her we don’t have The Breakfast Club in stock, but oh no, why trust the employee who rented all ten copies earlier today? Huh? How about we give the girl who makes a little over three bucks an hour a hard fucking time!” Robin was rambling at this point, the words falling deaf on Steve’s ears.

“Robs,” Steve groaned, finally looking up at his friend. “Give me another minute, I have a nasty headache—”

“Me too, Harrington,” Robin sighed, plopping down on the box next to him. “Her name’s probably Debra and she’s a beast in fake leopard print.”

Steve snorted with laughter. “Fine, I’ll head back out there,” he stood up, dramatically dusting off his jeans. “I just don’t know why the hell our help wanted sign hasn’t brought in more folks, we’re dying out here.”

“No one wants to work for Keith,” Robin said simply.

“Damn straight,” Steve pointed, pushing his way back onto the sales floor. The leopard printed demon was nowhere to be seen, much to Steve’s utter relief—he didn’t have the energy to fight her off anyway. Finding his way behind the counter, the doorbell rang out, a pavlovian response nearly spilled from Steve’s lips. “Welcome to Family Vid—”

His heart stopped.

She was gorgeous, like she just stepped out of a magazine ad—the one’s his mom bought, not the trashy shit they sell down at the gas station. Sunglasses adorned her temple like a crown, her hair perfectly falling around the pink lenses. Steve didn’t know what to say, it felt as if he simultaneously forgot all the words in the English language and stuffed seventeen Saltines in his mouth—he was tongue tied.

“Uh, hi,” the girl said softly, waving towards the frozen spectacle behind the counter. “I saw you have a help wanted sign outside?”

Steve could only nod, making a good effort to keep his jaw from falling on the floor. 

“Well,” she smiled, the kind that would make babies giggle at the sight, “I just moved here and sorta need a job so…” A resume was placed on the counter before him. It looked professional—way more than what Family Video could ever hope to ask for from an applicant, anyway. Steve couldn’t stop reading it. She was literally an angel, an answer to his very prayers—every one of them. If he had the power to hire her on the spot, he’d be tossing her a green vest from the back without a second thought. Part of him was cursing the fact Keith wasn’t here to interview her this very second, he needed to get to know this girl. 

“I-I…” Steve tried to speak, feeling his cheeks grow inflamed with embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being so… foolish around a girl.

“Steve, is it?” 

She knew his name. 

Of course he knew she read it off his name tag, he wasn’t that thick, but hearing it come straight from her lips? He could have melted directly into the floor and no one could have stopped him. 

“Yeah, this doofus here’s Steve, I’m Robin,” Robin appeared by his side, seemingly in the knick of time. “Don’t worry about him, we’re getting him the help he needs.”

The mystery girl giggled. “Ah, I see.”

“You want to apply here?” Robin asked, prying the resume from Steve’s—reluctant—hands. “Oh thank God, we’re dying for more bodies around here.”

“I love movies,” she explained quickly, noting how intently Robin was reading over her simple paper. “A-and I used to work at a movie theater back home before moving here, so I know a lot about the recent releases—”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Robin said, leaning onto the counter, voice dripping with secrecy. “You’re probably too good for this place, I mean, way too good for this shit-hole—”

“I need a job,” she repeated, almost desperately. “My folks forced me to move here and I’m trying to save up to get my own place back in Chicago, I’m not built for this small-town bullshit.”

This made Robin explode with laughter and Steve shrivel in despair. She had an expiration date—a way out of Hawkins.

“Well, I’ll make sure to pass this off to our manager—with a glowing recommendation, of course,” Robin winked.

“I appreciate it!” She smiled again, the sight nearly had Steve wishing he had his own pair of sunglasses to wear—it was blinding. “Well, I hope to see you guys around?”

“We’ll be here!” Robin called out, watching the girl walk back towards the door and out towards her car. A hand smacked across Steve’s bicep. 

“Hey!” He finally responded, rubbing the aforementioned spot. “What the hell?”

“I should bring that whiteboard out of retirement,” Robin arched her brow. “You’re positively hopeless, Steve Harrington. What the fuck was that all about?” 

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve sighed. “She was just—I didn’t even know what to say!”

“Clearly,” she snorted. “You looked like a gaping trout—”

“I did not—”

“This was worse than the girl who asked for a Mint-Choco Deluxe and you handed her a straight scoop of ice cream—no cone. I had to practically chase her out with a stack of napkins and a thousand apologies.”

Steve cringed at the memory. “Maybe…”

“When Keith hires her—and you know he’s gonna—you better get your act together. I don’t wanna deal with…this every day.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved. “Sure.”

And deal with it, she did. 

(Y/N) was her name, Steve had the pleasure of unpacking her new name tag for her first day. He almost wanted to keep it, but figured it would make him look like a crazed lunatic. Patiently, he waited by the front door, hoping to see her pull up in her car, ready and rearing for her first day on the job. Steve begged Robin to allow him the pleasure of training her, given he could somehow speak in her presence, of course. She simply rolled her eyes and agreed to the shift exchange. 

A shiny, cherry-red BMW peeled into the lot—Steve noted it looked awfully familiar to his own car, minus the color of course. It seemed a bit out of place in a small town like Hawkins, but the car had suited her just fine. Everything about her suited her kindly, Steve had noticed, especially the clothing she wore. Family Video was no place for a fashion show, Steve could attest to that himself, but with the way she was practically strutting towards the doors? The parking lot was her runway and he was begging to see more. 

“Good morning!” (Y/N) greeted cheerfully, pushing the glass door open wide.

“Morning,” Steve managed to squeak out. He pushed the unflattering green vest towards her. “Your uniform.” She easily slipped the fabric over her own shirt, the stark whiteness of her blouse really made the green pop.

“Well?” She spun around, twirling like a princess. “Do I look the part?”

Steve could only nod. 

“So what’s the first thing on the agenda? Do y’all have a time clock?”

Steve nodded again, pointing his thumb towards the break room.

“Ok..ay…” She said quietly, walking in the direction she was given.

He could cry—it was so pathetic. The way this girl had him so worked up? How was he expected to train her? No, forget training her, how was he supposed to even talk to her? Steve had been in pickles before, but this one took the cake.

“So you just… don’t speak then?”

She had managed to sneak up behind Steve, who had clearly been deep in thought. Her angelic voice alone made him jump. 

“I-I speak,” Steve explained. “I just… have a lot on my plate currently, s’all.”

“I’m sure working at the Family Video is real hard work, superstar,” she giggled, jumping up onto the countertop. “But I’m glad I don’t have to understand your training through charades."

“I’m pretty good at charades,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “O-or so I’m told…”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she smiled. “But seriously, I really thought you just didn’t want to talk to me or something.”

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. 

“So… I should probably show you the computer system for rentals,” Steve tried changing the subject—poorly, but she graciously turned her attention to the computer she so-conveniently sat next to. “Y’know, because that’s like, the entire job.”

The girl leaned in, not daring to remove herself from the counter top, trying to see what Steve was clicking on. 

“You seem tense,” she noticed. 

“It takes me a while to get warmed up to new people,” he lied. 

“What? Like a cat?”

“…exactly like a cat.”

“Well, Steve,” she hopped off the counter, “it’s a good thing I like cats.”

He tried his best to hide the redness flooding his cheeks.

She made Family Video more enjoyable, even after her first shift, Steve thought. He already liked the job enough, spending time with his best friend and getting paid for it was already a huge perk, but now that he got to know her? He might just keep this job forever.

Forever lasted only four months. 

“Steve!”

He peeked his head over the horror aisle, finding (Y/N) staring at him expectantly from the front counter. 

“Yes?”

“I’m dying over here,” she said dramatically, falling over on the countertop. “It’s so… boring.”

“It’s a Monday morning,” Steve said simply, commanding every fiber in his being to not shrug at the statement. “Mondays are usually boring around here.”

“Everything about Hawkins is boring,” she said, not lifting her face up from the counter. “How do you manage living in this God-forsaken town?”

“I don’t think everything is boring,” Steve scoffed, ignoring the rest of the tapes that needed to be put away. His feet were already leading him towards the counter, as if they had a mind of their own. “I mean, I doubt you’ve run through everything this town's got to offer?”

She lifted her head up from the counter, a red mark gracing her forehead. “In the last four months of living here? I think I have. Hell, the one cool place y’all could have had burned to the ground.”

Steve winced at the mention of StarCourt, the wounds still fresh. “It wasn’t that cool…”

“Fine,” (Y/N) propped herself up, head in her hands, “name one cool place in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock.”

He doesn’t know why he said it.

“Skull Rock?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve sheepishly said, hand finding the back of his neck quickly. “It’s the go-to for the coolest kids in Hawkins—made popular by yours truly.”

“And what exactly is Skull Rock?” Her arms were neatly crossed by the time he managed to look back at her. 

A make-out spot.

“A-an… experience?” Steve squeaked, trying his best to sound cool. “It’s hard to explain, you just kinda gotta go and see for yourself.”

“Huh,” she tutted. “Why haven’t I heard of this Skull Rock until now? Certainly if it was as neat as you say it is I would’ve heard about it by now.”

“It’s underground,” Steve tried to convince her. “Not physically, I mean. It's above ground, I promise. Underground in the sense that only the cool kids know about it.”

She snorted. “Cool kids?”

“Y-yeah,” He tried to double down.

“As in, like, high schoolers?”

“Other people besides high schoolers can be cool kids, y’know,” Steve said, trying his best not to cough. 

“Maybe I’ll ask Robin about it when she comes in—”

“I could take you?” Steve is quick to interject. “To Skull Rock, I mean. Tonight, if you’re free.”

A smile crept across her ruby red lips. “Like a date?”

“Pshht, no,” Steve waved. “Like a thing friends do! An activity of sorts.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“An activity,” Steve corrected, feeling queasy at the thought she may actually say yes. 

As if mulling over her options for the evening, (Y/N) stared directly into Steve Harrington’s brown eyes, pinning him to the spot with such a glare. “Hm. Alright.”

“A-alright?”

“Do you think I have to change for this ‘activity’?” (Y/N) motioned her hands up and down her body, giving Steve actual permission to fully look at her. Her outfit was already sensible enough—she was here to work, after all—he didn’t ever see a reason for her to change.

“Maybe different shoes?” Steve offered, looking down at her feet, adorned with ruby red flats to match her lips. 

“What sort of shoes do you recommend? These are my favorite flats.”

“Sneakers. Something you don’t mind getting dirty—”

“I don’t mind getting these dirty.”

“Something more suitable for the forest,” Steve amended. “Sticks, mud, poison ivy. Would hate for the tops of your feet to succumb to that bullshit.”

“Succumb,” (Y/N) repeated. “Big word.”

“Average word,” Steve mumbled, feeling only a tad bit embarrassed.

“Average is fine,” she shrugged. “I have sneakers in my car. We could go after work?”

—

Six o’clock couldn’t have come faster. 

Steve had spent the last few hours of his shift trying to best plan his escape from Family Video—an escape that involved pulling (Y/N) into his car before Robin could tell her what Skull Rock really was. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t had the mind to tell Robin what their plans were after work yet, but he knew it would come.

The minute hand finally ticked to the top of the clock. 6pm on the dot. Steve practically threw off his vest and ran to the wall clock to punch out.

“In a rush?” Robin asked. 

“Something like that,” Steve said, not wanting to share much more. 

“Well, enjoy yourself Rob!” (Y/N) nearly sang, now standing behind Steve waiting for her turn with the wall clock. “I left the counter nice and warm for you!”

“I know you meant that to sound endearing, but it just sounds gross,” Robin laughed, not even looking up from the book she had been reading. “Get out of here before Keith makes you both work overtime.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” (Y/N) said, pushing her pink sunglasses—which were housed in the tiny locker she used every day—onto her head. “Besides, we’ve got plans.”

“We?”

“Gotta go Robin!” Steve could only shout, pushing (Y/N) out of the small room in the back—it could hardly be called a break room. Containing a small T.V on the wall, a stack of lockers, a small fridge, quaint table and a broken microwave.

“Alright, weirdo,” (Y/N) laughed, “we made it outside.”

Steve hand only blinked, but she was right. Somehow he didn’t recall the jaunt from the break room to the front door, much less the fact they made it out to their cars. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she laughed again, “oh.”

He was sure his face was the near same color as her lipstick—cherry red and probably emitting the heat of a thousand suns. “Are you gonna change your shoes?” Somehow he strung together a full sentence.

“Go start up your car, pretty boy,” (Y/N) said smoothly, “I’ll meet you in a second.”

Pretty boy. 

Start up his car, he did. He fumbled through the few cassette tapes he stored in his glove box, eager to find one she’d like. Though a thought like this had crossed his mind a handful of times, he never thought she’d actually agree to go out with him. No, not go out, this wasn’t a date. Right? 

She had called him pretty boy. 

And he was planning on taking her to the unofficial make out spot of Hawkins. 

Maybe it was a date. 

“There!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sliding into his passenger seat, showing off her worn shoes. “My well-loved sneakers! Just like you requested. How I allowed you to talk me into going to a random forest is beyond me.”

Me too. Steve thought. 

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“What!?” Steve had already begun driving to their destination, but her sudden question had him nearly swerving off the road. “No!”

“That’s what a murderer would say.”

“I—why would I…?” Steve was at a loss for words. “If I was going to murder you, don’t you think I’d admit to it at this point?”

“No,” she shrugged, crossing her legs. Her sneakers were red too—her favorite color, perhaps? “I assume you’d admit it right before you kill me, not in transit to the murder location.”

Steve could only laugh. “You confuse me.”

“You love me,” she admonished. 

Maybe he did, and if he didn’t? He certainly could see himself, though, sooner than later. 

It only took another fifteen minutes of driving to reach their destination, parking his beloved BMW in a spot he knew all too well—part of himself cringed that he could admit that, even to just himself. “We’re here.”

“I’m still not convinced you’re not going to murder me,” (Y/N) hummed, hopping out of the car, a spring in her step. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, popping his trunk to dig for a blanket he knew he had left behind for one reason or another. “Come on,” he ducked his head towards a clearing, “it’s this way.”

“You really have to start explaining the appeal, Harrington,” (Y/N) said, pushing past a rather suspicious looking bush, following closely behind Steve. “This trek is nothing to scoff at.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I thought the murder accusations already confirmed that I did not?”

“Yet you still got into a car with me,” Steve said.

“I still got into a car with you,” she repeated. 

As if on cue, Skull Rock, in all of its glory, peeked through the brush and into view—thankfully with no one else around. 

“We made it!” Steve exclaimed, nearly impressed he remembered how to get here. Quickly unfurling the blanket he grabbed, he sat on the ground. “Come on, I promise it’s clean.”

“Doubting that,” she said, still sitting beside him. “So, spill it, what makes this place so cool?”

Steve took a deep breath. 

“I, uh, may have stretched the truth a bit?”

“How far?”

“Huh?”

“How far did you stretch the truth?”

“Not by much…”

“You’re sweating,” she pointed. 

“No I’m not!” Steve said, trying his very best to not look down at his pits, afraid they were betraying him. Looking back up at the girl sitting beside him, her ruby lips were twisted in a wicked smirk. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Nah,” she said, almost sounding honest. “But I also know pretty well what goes on around this rock—sick as fuck, by the way, it really looks like a skull.”

“You know about Skull Rock?” He was nearly dejected, embarrassed, even.

“I do.”

“And you still came here with me?”

“If it meant I could spend some time with you outside of work? Sure,” she said with her brilliant smile. “Though, don’t expect any swapping of saliva.”

“Then why…?”

Her knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped fully around them. “I don’t have many friends here. You and Robin kind of are it for me, at least, since I moved here. I figured I should try and spend time with y’all before I move again.”

Her big move. The one she was saving up for. 

“Back to Chicago, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Though, it’s going to be a while until I do actually move. Who knew trying to rent your own apartment in a big city is stupid expensive? Wait—don’t answer that, that’s a stupid fucking observation.”

“It’s a bit silly,” he agreed, trying his best not to laugh. “But, yeah, way more expensive than Hawkins.”

The sun had begun to set, not that they could see it, through the trees and all, but the sky was now a warm orange. The kind of color that reminded Steve of summer, melted creamsicles and sweet memories.

“What’s in Chicago, anyway?” Steve finally asked, eyes glued to the sky. The question had been on the tip of his tongue since he met her. “I mean, I never really hear you talk much about it—only when you feel the need to dig at Hawkins.”

“It’s where I grew up,” she shrugged. “All of my friends are out there, my life is out there.”

“I mean, you did just say Robin and I were your friends?” He offered, leaning back on his hands. 

She narrowed her gaze, pulling her head up from her knees ever-so-slightly. “Most of my friends are out there,” she corrected. “I just… my dad moved out here for work, a job he literally can’t tell us about—my mom is stuck being some bored housewife waiting every night for him to come home, slaving over a home cooked meal, and I’m just his failure of a daughter who works at a video store.”

Steve knows that feeling a bit too well. 

“It doesn’t even have to be Chicago,” she chuckled, mostly to herself. “I just can’t stay here. My forward thinking mind is too big for this town. I figure, maybe in the city I can find myself, figure out what this planet has in store for me, you know?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I mean, I never had the thought to leave Hawkins,” Steve said, still looking up at the sky—darker now, but still orange. “Especially now with all of the…”

How does he explain the Upside Down? Does he explain the Upside Down? No. She doesn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway.

“…you know, the missing people,” he finally said, finding the right explanation. “But the idea of going to a big city, finding my way and maybe figuring out what this big head is good for?” His self deprecating laugh echoed from under the large rock formation. “I get it.”

“Y’know,” (Y/N) relaxed her grip on her knees, “my mom had hesitations about moving here because of the missing people—afraid I was going to go missing too.”

“And your dad still moved you here anyway?” Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact people would move here willingly, especially all that’s been in the news about their small town. 

“I told you, big secret job,” she said, as if that was the only answer. “My dad’s answer to the problem was buying my mom a new kitchen set and me a car.”

“The BMW?”

“Hell yeah,” she snorted. “Though I suppose once I get to the city—any of them, I’ve decided—I’ll sell it. No need for a car if you’ve got decent public transit. I wonder how much I can get for it?”

“Probably less than what you’re thinking.”

“You’re probably right.”

The sun had finally set, leaving a hazy, sort of mystical hue over the rock and clearing. 

“You could come with me, you know,” (Y/N) finally spoke up. 

“Huh?”

“Get out of Hawkins? Lord knows I’d need a roommate. Rent is gonna be insane regardless.”

He pondered the thought. Moving out of this God-forsaken town with practically the girl of his dreams? It sounded too good to be true. “Huh.”

“You obviously don’t have to answer right now,” she said, nearly flustered. Was she flustered? “It was just a dumb thought…”

“It’s not dumb,” he said steadily, truthfully. “Not dumb at all.”

“What? You’re actually considering it?”

“Don’t ask me things if you’re not serious about them,” Steve joked, pointing at her. “I mean, it sounds pretty perfect. Leaving Hawkins, making a way for myself, trying to not rely on my parents… I dunno. Something to think about.”

She only nodded.

“Of course, I can’t leave yet,” Steve corrected, mostly to himself. “I have… unfinished business.”

“Ominous,” she snorted. 

“A man has his secrets,” he smirked, turning to look at her. “Not murder-y secrets, I really can’t stress that one enough.”

“Handsome, funny and mysterious, the full package,” she hummed.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t want to stroke your ego,” (Y/N) said. “Surely you know you’re handsome.”

“I didn’t know you thought I was handsome.”

“I think everyone thinks you’re handsome,” her eyebrow raised. “Especially all those girls who come in to rent movies I know for a fact they have no interest in. Robin says you had a similar effect back at the ice cream place.”

“You’ve talked to Robin about my handsomeness?”

“I’ve talked to Robin about your obliviousness,” she corrected, “I think there’s a difference.”

He felt like his brain was melting. If he had a mirror, he’d check his ears to make sure no pink matter was dripping out. “But you think I’m handsome?” If the lighting hadn’t been as low as it was, he’d probably be able to see just how dark her cheeks had become.

“Irrelevant.”

He found the courage to scoot a little closer to her. “I mean, I think it’s pretty relevant… considering I think you’re pretty handsome too.”

Her head couldn’t have turned faster.

“Beautiful! I meant beautiful! Not that you can’t be handsome,” Steve felt himself choking on his own foot, falling deeper into a hole he knew he couldn’t get out of. “If you’d rather be called handsome, that’s fine by me, but traditionally, you’re stunning—so so pretty and I—”

“Steve—”

“A-and I’m messing this up,” Steve deflates. The crickets around Skull Rock must have been paid actors at this point. Steve made a mental note to bring a can of Raid the next time he came here—revenge of some sorts. “I can’t believe I’m messing this up.”

Something slightly wet touched his cheek.

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” (Y/N) said, pulling away from his face. She kissed his cheek. “I think you’re a little silly and overthinking a lot, though.”

“You kissed me?”

“I kissed your cheek, no need to short-circuit,” she smiled softly. “I figured it was a good way to bring you back down to Earth. Did it work?”

He nodded, a bit too fast for his liking. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” she said, so sure of herself. “You were really spiraling there for a moment.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

More crickets. 

“Would you have kissed Robin on the cheek? If she was spiraling like that?”

“No,” she said honestly. “Just you.”

“Oh.”

“You took me to the make-out spot of Hawkins,” (Y/N) gestured to the rock above them. “Did you expect me to not kiss you?”

“You kissed my cheek,” he clarified, feeling bolder. “I don’t think that counts.”

“Hm,” she tapped her chin in faux-thought. “It probably doesn’t.”

“I could let you try again?”

“Oh you’d let me?” She crossed her arms, voice airy, light.

“Or I could kiss you,” he shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

“Oh what endless options I have,” she laughed, getting up from the blanket. It was only a little scratchy. “Come on, pretty boy, it’s getting late. My mom is probably worried sick I haven’t made it home yet. Probably waiting by the front window with some terrible dinner in the oven, I assume.”

She offered her hand, helping Steve up off the ground. “You’re probably right.”

“This was nice,” she said, walking back to the car. “Thanks for taking me out here, Steve. I finally found the one good thing in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock is just that impressive, huh?” Steve laughed, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Something like that,” her smile was just as big. 

--

BONUS: “Pop your trunk, I’ll put this nasty blanket away,” (Y/N) said, circling to the back of Steve’s car.

“It’s not that nasty,” he snorted, fulfilling her request. Climbing into his car and starting up the engine, he waited for her to throw the scrap of fabric in the back. In the corner of his eye, he could see her through the mirror, staring intently at the contents of his trunk. “How long does it take to put a blanket away?” He sighed, hopping back out of the car to join her, realizing quickly why she was just staring in his trunk. 

“Y’know,” she clicked, “this doesn’t really help the whole ‘I’m not gonna murder you’ thing.”

In her hands was his tried and true baseball bat—still outfitted with spiky nails and the very essence of dried blood. 

“I-I can explain—”

“You probably can,” she said, throwing the bat back into the trunk, slamming it shut. “How about over dinner sometime?”

He’d be stupid to say no.

[miguel-ohara-lover]

Miguel ohara x spiderwoman/single mom reader, where she brings her baby to work at the spider society

Ooooh yes yes yes. I thrive on dad!Miguel so this is amazing.

Miguel x Spider-Woman W/ a Baby

CW: Fluff, dad!Miguel, reader has a baby, Mig is a little tough at first but don’t worry… slight angst cuz of Gabi

I had to ask my mom some stuff cuz… I don’t know shit about babies… also I might have projected a little towards the end don’t mind me…

Part two

It’s not uncommon for spider-people to bring their children to the spider society. Hell, that’s what the day passes are for. Peter B started the trend with Mayday, and after that many spiders wanted to bring their little ones too.

Today you were no different, deciding to bring your baby girl, Alice, to the society. You knew of all places in the multiverse she’d be the safest here. A few folks were surprised to see you with the baby, some cooing and saying she’s adorable, but most kept to themselves.

You headed to the boss’s office, grabbing a coffee from the cafeteria along the way. You needed to make sure you weren’t assigned any missions today. As you walked in, Miguel turned to you to see what you needed, a familiar frown settling on his face when he saw your baby.

He had never liked all the spider people bringing their children. I mean, who would after what he’s been through. Peter seemed to love torturing him with Mayday constantly, but Miguel would never admit it hurt. You noticed the look and chose to keep some distance.

After a few seconds you spoke. “Hey, Miguel, I was just popping in to ask if I have any missions today?”

“Actually…” He turns to one of his screens. “You just got one. In an hour.”

“What? I can’t do a mission today, I have my daughter with me.”

“That’s not my problem.” Miguel doesn’t turn to look at you again. You huff and look around the room while debating what you should do, Alice cooing a little and looking around the unfamiliar room as well.

“Maybe… you could watch her?”

Miguel groaned a little. “Me? Why me?”

“Well I trust you’d keep her safe, boss. And she seems to like you.” You gesture to Alice making the cutest grabby hands at the big scary man. That makes Miguel’s hard outer shell crumble a little, images of his daughter flashing in his mind.

“Hm… how long…?”

“However long the mission is.” You smiled.

Miguel sighed. “Fine… fine… leave her with me…” He lowered his platform more and got down, holding his arms out to take the baby. You carefully handed off the baby to him, and he holds her expertly. He knew what he was doing.

You smiled up at him, a slight blush on your cheeks. “Thank you so much, Miguel.” Alice giggled and cooed at Miguel, waving her little hands at him. All he did was nod to you as a response, his eyes on the baby. You give her a gentle kiss to the forehead before heading off to get ready for your mission.

———

After the mission

———

You returned from your surprisingly easy mission, heading straight for Miguel’s office to retrieve your baby. When you walk in you see Miguel on his platform, holding Alice against his shoulder. He’s gently bouncing her and singing in Spanish, lulling her to sleep. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Miguel notices you and placed a finger to his lips, telling you to stay quiet. Once the baby was asleep he spoke in a very quiet whisper.

“You we’re gone longer than I thought you’d be, y/n. Run into any trouble?”

You shook your head no. “The mission was pretty easy, surprisingly.”

“That’s good. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to Alice’s mami.” His eyes were still on your baby, hand on her back as he continued to gently rock and bounce her as she slept so peacefully.

You look up at Miguel. “You make a lovely dad.” He froze for a moment and looked at you.

“Really…?” Is all he said. Your smile grew and you nodded. The corners of his mouth slowly turned up, and for the first time since you’ve known him, Miguel smiled. A real genuine smile.

You swing up to his platform and place a gentle hand on his free shoulder. He glanced at your hand, a little confused by the gesture. There’s a slight blush on his cheeks, and you could tell you finally cracked through those walls he had put up.

“I’m sure her father wouldn’t enjoy this.” He tried to pull away from you, tried to put his walls back up.

You shook your head again. “Her father isn’t in the picture…”

“Really? What kind of father would abandon his daughter?” His red eyes almost seem to glow as anger fills him. He couldn’t imagine a dad causing harm, mentally or otherwise, to his own child. The thought made him sick, made him want to hunt down your ex and-

“Hey.” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Don’t worry about it. She’ll have you…” You gave him a gentle smile. Miguel was surprised at that, but it made him happy. He loved the idea of being in Alice’s life more, of being a father figure to her.

“Would you… perhaps like to get dinner later?” Miguel looked into your eyes, and you could see the anger dissipating, being replaced with love.

“I’d love that.” You lean up and give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

[wyattjohnston]

kinda hope they catch us - andrei svechnikov

summary: 3 times the engagement was a secret and 1 time it wasn't.

word count: 1,698

note: this is a fic written for @isconnormcdavidok as part of a server exchange run by @mp0625 💚

It never ceased to amuse Eva that seeing the other WAGs was like seeing a friend you hadn’t seen in months. It had been 2 days since the last home game, and yet it would still be all hugs, kisses and tell me what I’ve missed. Some of them weren’t at the game so Eva could talk about dragging Andrei along to Christmas with her folks, at least. Everyone else would get a somewhat rehearsed story about her plans for starting the New Year off on the right foot.

It was only ever so hard during the holidays when everyone always expected a big, grand tale every time they saw each other.

And only more so of a big deal because she was keeping a secret.

A large secret.

A secret taking up quite a bit of real estate on her left hand.

1.

Eva sighed at the line up of cars in the driveway and on the street outside her parents’ house. She had tried so hard to not be late for once, and she thought she was doing an excellent job.

Andrei assured her that they were, actually, only fifteen minutes late, which was the most on time Eva could ever remember being and her family would hopefully be impressed by that fact.

They made their way to the front door, arms so loaded with presents that she had to awkwardly press her nose to the doorbell because neither of them could free a hand to let themselves in.

A nervous buzz zipped through Eva’s body, her body bursting to tell her family news they’d been waiting to hear for what felt like forever, and she had her mouth open to spill it as soon as the door opened in front of her—except she was grabbed by the arm, her cousin letting out an exasperated “finally”, and hauled into the living room where the entire family was waiting.

Eva looked at Andrei, about to ask him if this was all his doing, to ask if he’d planned this, only to be met with him staring back at her and about to ask the same thing.

There wasn’t any time to work it out between them, though, because Eva’s sister was pulling her husband in front of them all and announcing that she was pregnant. Eva’s left hand got suddenly heavier.

It didn’t matter, though, that it had to put their plans on hold—and there was no question that that had to be the case—Eva used the now empty couches to unload presents from her arms, taking the ones Andrei was carrying.

“We’ll still be engaged tomorrow,” she whispered to him, the pressure of his hand on her upper back settling her.

His laugh was deep but soft when he said, “I know, Zolotse. I know.”

Eva joined the line to celebrate her sister and the pregnancy that she had all but given up on ever happening.

No effort was made throughout lunch to hide the new engagement ring, not intentionally on her part, anyway. Andrei holding hers hand throughout lunch, or when everyone moved back to the couch after, was the norm so nobody thought anything of it. He just so happened to be hiding the news they’d been so eager to share.

2.

Eva always made an effort to watch Andrei’s home games; she’d very much grown to enjoy over the course of their relationship, having met Andrei very early on in his NHL career. There was a nice rotating cast of significant others and kids who appeared at games, too, and Eva’s relationships with them had become some of her most cherished.

“Are you going to take your coat off?” Courtney asked, tugging at material as she passed Eva. “And gloves?”

Eva balled her hands up and then shoved them under her thighs. Her ring caught on the glove which in turn caught on her jeans, but she wasn’t going to let the cold get to her.

“Are you coming down with something?” Gracia asked, concerned enough to put her hand against Eva’s forehead. “It doesn’t feel like you have a fever.”

“I’m just really cold. I haven’t been able to get warm all day.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re twenty-three not eighty-three. Can you start telling us when it’s about to rain?”

Eva rolled her eyes, insisting that she wasn’t sick or old or anything else. She was cold.

There was a period of time before the game started where people were seeming to give her a wide berth; Eva was unsure if it was because they thought her contagious or if she looked generally unhappy about being at the game. And she wasn’t unhappy to be there; she made that very clear when Nykki finally sat next to her.

“Are you sure? You’re a little grumpier than usual.”

“Because nobody will let me be cold!” Eva protested. “I’m just trying to get warm.”

During the first intermission, a blanket from the team store was delivered. It was mortifying.

Andrei, when they were both home after the game, found it amusing at least, when he saw it laid across their bed where she was waiting for him with the covers tucked up under her chin.

3.

The boys were, yet again, off in a road trip. This time, just for one game in Toronto before they flew back for New Years’ Eve. Eva was out to brunch with most of the younger cohort of WAGs, ready to start ringing in the new year even if it was a day early.

Before she left, she’d spoken on the phone with Andrei as he was rushing out the door to get on the bus for practice.

“I think I’m going to take the ring off,” she had said, spinning the ring around her finger as she spoke.

There was a beat, much thicker than Eva had been expecting, before Andrei asked in a thick voice, “You what?”

“Nobody knows yet, right?” she asked, unsure if Andrei had told any of his teammates. It wouldn’t be a big deal, but she would have expected him to tell her. “Taking it off until you get home won’t be a big deal.”

Another beat followed, and Eva was expecting him to tell her that people already knew, that he was nervous to do so. She was opening her mouth to say that she wouldn’t bother if people already knew—because everyone would definitely know before she left for brunch—but Andrei beat her to it, sounding even more dejected.

“Zolotse… You don’t want a ring? You don’t want to be engaged?”

“Oh, god. Andrei. No. That is not what I mean!” Eva said in a rush, her voice becoming more and more high pitched with each word.

“What you mean?”

“If I take it off, we can tell people tomorrow! Together!” she held her left hand to her chest and bit the inside of her cheek as her eyes started to water. “Andrei, baby, I just want to tell people together. That’s all.”

Andrei asked her softly, a couple more times before he had to leave, to promise him she was telling the truth.

It put a bit of a damper on heading out to brunch, because she found that, even though it had been her idea, taking off the ring was a struggle. Still, she put it delicately on her bedside table, and headed out to see her friends.

+1

Hiding the ring was easy when her hand was securely in Andrei’s as they walked into the New Years’ Eve party. She was filled with nervous energy, and even though the ring was hidden she found herself looking at everyone as if they would be able to tell with just one look at her.

Not that they had up to that point.

They weren’t without drinks for very long as someone seemed to have been tasked with holding a tray right near the doors. Eva, without any input from Andrei, led them straight to where Martin and Nykki were standing off to the side—they were the first people they wanted to tell, after all.

There were handshakes and hugs the second Martin and Nykki noticed their arrival.

“Did you find the non-alcoholic wine?” Nykki asked, gesturing to Eva’s champagne flute and earning a furrowed brow in response.

“No? Why would—no, that’s not what I want to talk about. We have something to tell you.”

“I fucking knew it,” Nykki shouted, immediately turning to Martin and excitedly smacking his chest. “I told you she was pregnant?”

Andrei choked on his drink.

“Pregnant?” he asked, hurried and panicked.

“What the fuck?” asked Eva. “Where the fuck did you get that idea?”

“You’re obviously keeping a big secret.” Nykki’s tone was more accusatory than Eva expected. “You’ve been weird since Christmas, and you were really sick at the game on Saturday, and you’re not drinking—”

Eva cut her off to exclaim, “I had three mimosas at brunch yesterday!”

“They weren’t orange juice? What have you been hiding from us then?”

“This fucking dwarf planet I’ve been wearing for a week?” Eva pulled her hand from Andrei’s to hold it out to Nykki and Martin. “That somehow nobody has noticed? It has gravitational pull.”

Nykki grabbed Eva’s hand so rapidly that Eva was startled, but she let Nykki inspect it closely whilst Andrei and Martin had a silent conversation over Nykki’s excited screaming. It drew the attention of everybody nearby.

There was a lengthy conversation once more of the WAGs gathered, how did he do it? When did he do it? Why didn’t you tell us? And Eva had to try and convince them that she hadn’t meant to—aside from the brunch—it had just ended up that way. Not one of them believed her in the moment.

Her hand was being passed around the group, everyone admiring the ring and asking questions Eva didn’t know the answer to, so Eva caught Andrei’s eye here he was holding court with the boys and nearly melted at the softness of his smile. At the pride behind his eyes. At the love that emanated from his entire body.

[adnauseum11]

Restricted Operating Zone (John Price x Reader)

Kate has a job offer for John.

850 words

CW: swearing, reference to oral sex

Kate considers it lucky that John is about as relaxed as she’s ever seen him, because he’s not going to be pleased when she delivers the lines she’s been asked to say. John’s a pro, surely, he knows how it goes. Kate’s orders aren’t her own half the time, and often not a first choice. 

“You’re looking better every time I see you, John, still having fun in retirement?”

John nods slowly, a flicker of something crossing his face before he replies. 

In a split second he’s called forth an image in his mind’s eye of his love, her leg thrown over his shoulder and fingers tangled in his hair while he knelt before her in the shower. Her head thrown back as she cried out into the steamy room. She had given him shit over making her cum that hard before work, which had made him laugh. She would be back by now, rattling around alone in that drafty, shitty place she was calling home for the moment.  

“Yeah, you could say that.” He plays a card and leans back, observing her. “Any particular reason you mention it?” He may be out of work but his senses are still keen to corporate grade bullshit. 

“We’ve been having issues with an objective-“

“Oh hell –“

“Just hear me out John” Kate’s trying to get a word in edgewise but John’s not entertaining it.

“No, I don’t need to hear what you’re gonna say. The answer is no.”

Kate sighs, knowing it would go this way and yet, she still has a job to do. She presses on, pushing her luck as much as she dares. She waits a few extra beats to play her card – both literally and figuratively - not because she is unsure, but because she needs John to settle. It works and the anger bleeds out of his eyes, replaced with the cold calculating look she’s more intimately familiar with. 

“They’re offering a wildly lucrative contract. It’s a highly sensitive mission, small task force, Gaz is available and will sign on if you do. An intercept and collect. Exfil already lined up. Just need a signature on the dotted line.”

“Laswell, I’m going to get you a hearing aid for your next birthday. No.”

“John, I wasn’t authorized to accept ‘No.’ This needs to happen, or shit gets hairy on a global scale. Hence the price tag. One last job and you can set up shop with your little missus. I’m guessing you two are still seeing each other?”

The mention of John’s love in the same breath as work makes him clench his cards. His focus narrows onto Laswell, and she has the presence of mind to be uncomfortable with his sudden laser focused attention.

“What did you just say?” There’s a very real threat of menace in his tone.

“Hey – ho. This is a friendly card game, folks. Kate, don’t talk shop at the card table.” Kate’s wife attempts to intercede, placing her own cards down and looking from guest to guest with concern. 

Every invited guest around the table has worked with Kate, and understand the implications of the work. None have worked as long or as closely with Kate as John, and even retired he’s a leader. All eyes swing to Kate to see how she will react. 

“I never see him anymore unless it’s here at cards.” Kate says by way of defence, petulant even in the face of a pissed off John Price. “All I’m saying is it would be nice to start a new life with a nest egg, is all. What if she gets sick?” Her tone is innocent but John sees red.

Kate’s wife is shaking her head in warning, but Kate is too bullheaded to take the advice on. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to see you unless we’re playing cards, Kate.” John responds coolly, folding the cards in his hands flat against the table. “I served my time. I’m moving on with my life. Don’t mention her again, that’s a warning.” His big frame is sitting fully upright now, the loose-limb posture he’d been in since he’d arrived evaporating. 

“You’ve got 96 hours to decide John, or the offer disappears.”

“I don’t need any hours to decide, Laswell, ‘cause I won’t be attending your latest clusterfuck. In fact, I’m not going to attend this poker game.” John throws what could have been a winning hand on the table and stands abruptly.   

“John, there’s no need – “ 

Kate’s backpedaling, realizing she’s overstepped far too late. 

“I’ll see you in a few weeks. In the meantime, don’t contact me.” 

John tucks the chair back into place with way more force than necessary, spilling Kate’s drink as it collides with the frame of the table.

“Jesus Christ Kate – “ 

Her wife is wide-eyed, staring at her with disappointment as John yanks his coat from a peg, slamming the door on his way out.

“Shit.” Kate curses, holding her dripping cards up.

“Did that go how you hoped? Maybe listen to your wife next time.”

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos

Next Chapter

[atinylittlepain]

Big Fan - Part Two

Joel Miller x actress!reader

joel miller masterlist

Joel is smitten. But he's having a hard time figuring out when she's being real and when she's just acting.

warnings | 18+ lil angst, mostly fluff, fun times abound

a/n | this is a continuation of a request that I was not expecting so many people to like lol, read the first part here!

........................

“Real or fake?”

“Oh, definitely fake. I still don’t think I know how to hold a gun right. Those were all just plasticky props.” Joel laughs with a shake of his head as she shrugs. They’re sitting in the spot they usually find themselves in as the sun starts to turn syrupy over the mountains, Joel’s arm draped across the back of the bench seat on her porch with her ever so slightly leaning into his side. By the time he says goodnight to her, he knows she’ll be melted right under his arm, pressed fully into his side, since that’s how these nights tend to unravel. 

It’s been entirely too sweet, all this time he’s been spending with her. They’ll talk for hours, well into the night, but not without a few interruptions. Word had spread fast around Jackson about the pre-apocalyptic starlet, and Ellie was right, it wasn’t just Joel who had been a big fan of hers before. It was typically women, recognizing her from some sappy movie he remembers Sarah liking, stopping by her porch to tell her that they loved her work and if she needed anything at all, to not hesitate to ask. Joel couldn’t help but roll his eyes at these displays, but she always handled it with an awkward grace, giving them a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Not like the smiles she gave to him.

The men that show up are a different story. Joel would like to do a bit more than roll his eyes at them, with the way they lean up against the railing, shooting her crooked grins and telling her how they just can’t believe there’s someone “so darn pretty” calling Jackson home. But she treats them just the same as the others that show up, a clean smile and a few polite words, a far cry from the sailor’s mouth Joel has found her to have around him. And he thought he couldn’t like her more than he already did. 

After a few of these visitors had come by, Joel had fixed her with a quirked look, asking her if she was “putting on a show for these folks.” She had shrugged with a grin, and that’s how this game they play came about of Joel asking her what was real, and what was fake.

“They didn’t have someone teaching you that?” She sighs, nudging a little closer into his side.

“Mm, no. Think they were a little more concerned with how my tits looked behind the machine gun than if I was holding it right.” Joel clears his throat, her crass language flustering him a bit, and she seems to know it, giggling lightly as she looks up at him.

“Well, you seem to be holding your own just fine. But I could, um, give you some pointers some time if you want. Check out your form.” He regrets those last words the instant they come out of his mouth while she throws her head back against his shoulder in a hard laugh. He grumbles, heat creeping up his neck as her cackling finally dies down. She sighs, craning her neck to catch his downturned gaze.

“You wanna check out my form, Joel?” He huffs as she dissolves back into laughter, leaning over her thighs with her elbows propping her up. This was also something that often happened during their time together. Joel would manage to put his foot in his mouth, looking like a “hopeless fool” as Ellie lovingly put it, and she’d start teasing him until he could barely stand it. They flirted like dumb teenagers with each other, Joel wasn’t so thick that he couldn’t see that. But it never went any further than her resting her cheek against his chest in the darkening night, his arm sliding to drape over her. He knows it's silly, but he'd really like for it to go further.

She glances over her shoulder at him, sighing as her laughter finally dies down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. No more teasing, I promise.” She leans back into his side as he shakes his head.

“Have a hard time believing that, darlin.” He savors the effect that little name has on her, the melty smile she offers him whenever he calls her that. She smacks his knee before squeezing it lightly.

“Pfft, be nice, Miller. After all, you did have my poster in your bedroom.” She can barely get the words out behind her giggles. Joel tries to press a scowl across his face, but he dissolves too easily at her bright laughter, a defeated chuckle leaving his lips. 

“Alright, I couldn’t help myself. But I’m done now, I swear. In all seriousness, I’d appreciate that. You checking out my form. Could probably learn a thing or two from you.” She settles down into his side, the spot that Joel likes her in the most. He lets his arm slip down around her shoulder, hand brushing idly along her forearm.

“Why don’t we go out tomorrow for a little target practice? You can show me what you got, hollywood.” She snorts at that, hand squeezing his knee again.

“Sounds good, Texas. I’m game.”

…

“Real or fake?” She stops walking for a moment, a shy grin crinkling up her face. Joel chuckles.

“No, really?” She shrugs, picking back up the pace. They’re hiking out to a clearing Joel had used a few times to help Ellie with her target practice, a bright spring day that has them both dressed down in t-shirts, packs loosely slung over their shoulders.

“It was just a publicity stunt. Two co-stars in love. Certainly sold movie tickets, I can tell you that. But no, it was very, very fake. Truthfully, I couldn’t stand the guy.” He can’t help but laugh at her admission, shaking his head as they keep moving.

“My daughter had the biggest crush on that guy. I can remember her telling me she thought you were the luckiest lady alive to be dating him.” He lets out a long sigh. It’s been getting easier, talking about Sarah. Less of a pain and more of a relief in getting to remember her and share it with people he cares about, but a twinge still runs through his heart when he talks about her. She has been easy to talk to about it, letting him share as much or as little as he wants to, in turn telling him about her own family that she had lost, a little sister that she never got to see again. He couldn’t help being surprised at how easily they both talked with each other, coming from two completely different worlds. Though he supposes they share a whole lot more in this world they live in now.

She hums, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Yeah, her and everybody else thought that I’m pretty sure. Such a shame he was actually a total asshat.” He snorts at that, picking up his pace to walk alongside her.

“Asshat. That’s a new one. You’ll have to share that one with Ellie. Kid’s always looking to expand her, uh, vocabulary.” She grins at him, eyes crinkling up as she laughs.

“Oh, I know. I taught her “douchebag” last week.” Joel huffs as she giggles at his exasperated expression, muttering a low “was wondering where she picked that up.” 

They fall into a comfortable silence as they reach the clearing and Joel is quick to shrug off his pack and take out the old street signs he and Ellie had painted targets on, setting them up against a stand of trees. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she had been checking him out as he turned back around to her. But he knows better, right?

He sidles up next to her and hands her the pistol he had brought along. 

“Alright, show me how you’d normally stand.” She nods, staggering her feet slightly and cocking the gun up in one hand. Joel sighs, shaking his head as he comes up behind her.

“Almost as bad as Ellie, Jesus christ. Here–” He guides her one hand up to clasp over her other hand, bringing both his arms around her to firm up her grip with a light press of his palms. He can hear the clipped inhale she takes, can feel the stuttered rise of her shoulders from where his chest is hovering against her back. He clears his throat, leaving one more firm touch over her hands before stepping back.

“Thumb over thumb. Ain’t nobody gonna knock it out of your hands that way. And two hands are always steadier than one.” She hums in confirmation, glancing back over her shoulder at him. He nods toward the makeshift targets.

“Let’s see what kinda damage you can do, darlin.” It happens so quick, Joel can barely pick his jaw up off the ground as she turns around with a bright smile. She smoked it, hitting all three targets dead center without so much as a flinch. She saunters back over to him with a chuckle at his slack expression. 

“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” She shrugs.

“What can I say? You learn early on as an actress to always hit your mark. Thanks for the tip though, definitely made it easier to stay steady.” She goes to hand him back the pistol and he clasps his hand around hers, pulling her a little closer.

“You didn’t need my help, not really.” She just shrugs, a crooked grin on her face as she looks at him. Joel huffs.

“So why exactly did you wanna do target practice with me?” She steps a little closer, bringing her hand that’s not clasped in his up to splay over his chest.

“Maybe I just wanted to spend a little more time with you, Miller. Is that so bad?” Joel sighs, shaking his head and letting go of her hand to drag his through his hair.

“Christ, you can’t just say shit like that. Not when–” Her brow is furrowed as she cuts him off.

“Not when what?” He huffs, keeping his eyes on his boots.

“Not when you don’t really mean it.” The laugh she lets out shocks him into meeting her gaze again. She shakes her head at him.

“Who says I don’t mean it?” His head is spinning at her words, at the warm look she’s giving him and he has to scrunch his eyes shut to refocus on reality. His eyes flicker back open when he feels her palm coming up to cup his jaw.

“Joel, if you don’t believe it, just ask me. I haven’t lied to you once.” At first, he’s not quite sure what she means, but when he finally gets it, he lets out a long sigh.

“Alright. Real or fake– you’ve been flirting with me.” She smiles, her fingers lightly drumming against his chest.

“Real.” 

“Real or fake– you flirt with everyone.” She scoffs, shaking her head.

“Fake, and I’m insulted too, geez.” It’s playful, but Joel is already posing his next question.

“Real or fake– you like flirting with me because you like messing with me.” She laughs at that.

“Hmm, fake. But also a little real.” His brow furrows, but she just smiles.

“Real or fake–” She cuts him off, bringing both her arms to wrap over his shoulders.

“Wait a minute. It’s my turn. I’m gonna do something, and you tell me if it’s real or fake.” Before he can ask her what she’s going to do, she’s leaning up and guiding him down with her hand at the nape of his neck, brushing a fluttering kiss to his lips. Joel’s mind goes blank, the only thing he can focus on are her eyes as she pulls back just slightly. She grins.

“Well, was that real or–” He cuts her off this time, dipping back down for a much more demanding kiss, bringing his hands to cup her face. They both pull away a bit breathless and Joel lets out a laugh, his thumb stroking the arc of her cheek.

“Real. That was very real.”

................................

taglist: @littleshadow17 @stevesdick @agent007knight @inanni

[sissylittlefeather]

Let's Forget About the Stars: Chapter 1

A/N: Here it is! First chapter of the new series featuring Elvis and Dove Morningstar! This one begins in 1957 and will go on for a looooong time. I hope you all enjoy the fluff! It makes my heart so happy.

Warnings: none. Just cotton candy sweetness for these two. I guess there's some kissing.

Word count: ~2.5k

Dove looks in the mirror, sitting in front of the vanity in the tiny dressing room behind the stage. She blots her lipstick one more time and smooths her black hair into its low bun. Her dark eyes are perfectly rimmed by feathery black lashes. She'd be beautiful if it weren't for the color of her skin: two shades too dark to be acceptable in mainstream culture and two shades too light to fit into the lively subculture she attempts to surround herself with. But no matter where she goes, she's an outsider.

Her name gives her away. Morningstar. It's hard to deny her Native heritage with a name like that. To their credit, her parents tried to give her a chance by naming her Eleanor, a good white name, but it didn't stick. As soon as she had a voice, her cousins started calling her Dove and she's never gotten away from it. And Eleanor Morningstar doesn't look any better on a billing than Dove Morningstar. She's considered changing her name, but she knows it would break her daddy's heart. It's true he's back in Oklahoma and would probably never know, but it's ingrained in her to respect him, so she does.

But if her career doesn't pick up soon, she'll have to change it. Maybe to something that sounds Mexican or Italian.

"Dove, you're up. Come on." She sighs and stands up, smoothing the black skirt. The manager of the club holds open the door for her to walk onto the stage.

She makes her way up to the mic and begins her set, her voice soft and sensuous. There's a reason they call her Dove. More than that, she sways her hips, winding them to the rhythm as she sings. This is the other reason she has to play here and not on big stages. She just can't seem to stand still when she sings. Her wide skirt is an attempt to hide it, but it's impossible to ignore. Between the way she moves and the way she holds her microphone, she's dripping sex the second she walks on stage. Her talent is undeniable, but the sizzle of her performance makes people uncomfortable. Even here, she's an outsider, and her style is not accepted. The applause is sparse and most people ignore her, paying more attention to their drinks or their dates.

But tonight, she's caught someone's attention. He hasn't noticed his date or his drink since she started singing. He's actually not sure he's remembered to breathe since he saw her. It's like she's put a spell on him with her cooing and dancing and he's powerless to stop it.

She's not even his type, but something about her draws him in like the proverbial moth to a flame. He's pretty sure she'd set him on fire, but he's not sure he cares. As soon as she finishes singing, she opens her eyes and bows slightly. A few people clap and she scans the audience with a nervous smile. She turns to walk off the stage and he immediately stands up.

"Elvis, where are you going?" His date pouts and pulls on his hand.

"I'll be right back, baby." He says it with no intention of returning to her, pulling his hand back and making his way across the club to the manager, Joe. He's been here many times before, so he knows Joe, but she's new, so he wants to gather some information before he finds her.

"Hey, Joe, who was that?"

"On stage?"

"Yeah."

"That was Dove Morningstar." Elvis raises his eyebrows.

"Thats a helluva name."

"I know. She's a helluva gal. Wish there was a place for her."

"What do you mean?"

"You saw her. Where do you think she can sing like that? Not here. And sure as hell not at the Opry."

"Not here?"

"Tonight was proof. Folks don't like it. She's just ahead of her time, I think." Elvis nods.

"Where can I find her?"

"She oughtta be coming out from backstage any minute. Why? You wanna meet her?" Joe gets a knowing glint in his eye and Elvis damn near blushes.

"If it ain't too much trouble."

"Stay here. I'll get her." He walks away as Elvis shifts nervously from one foot to the other. Why does meeting her make his stomach flip flop like this? He's Elvis Presley and it's 1957. He might be the most desirable and eligible bachelor on the planet. But this girl, this Dove Morningstar, has him completely disarmed. He feels Joe tap on his arm and he turns to face her, trying to remind himself to breathe.

"Dove, this is Elvis Presley. Elvis, this is Dove Morningstar." There's a moment of silence between them. She can't believe she's standing this close to Elvis Presley and he seems to have forgotten that that's him. Finally, she breaks the silence.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Presley? Elvis? What should I call you?" She laughs nervously. Her laugh makes his heart skip a few beats. Joe nudges him and he remembers he's supposed to speak now.

"Oh! Elvis is fine." She laughs again and he has to hold in a groan. What is this girl doing to him?

"I love your music. I wish I'd known you would be here. I'd love to get you to sign something for me, but I don't have anything with me."

"You want my autograph?"

"Yeah... is that...? I'm sorry. You're just here to relax and I'm asking you for an autograph."

"No, honey, it's okay. I just... I feel like I should be asking for yours."

"Mine?!"

"Your set was incredible." She looks up at him wide-eyed.

"You're bluffing."

"No, I'm still reeling from it. You were great." A blush rises in her cheeks.

"Thank you... I think you're the only one who liked it." She whispers the last part. They stand and stare at each other again. Joe looks between them and rolls his eyes.

"Maybe you want to get her a drink and take her somewhere to talk?" That seems to jar Elvis back to reality.

"Yes! Can I get you something?"

"Just a Pepsi please." He smiles softly, orders two Pepsis from the bartender, holding them in one hand, and then puts his other hand on her lower back to lead her through the crowd. The contact has them both shivering. He maneuvers her to a door that opens to a staircase. She looks at him suspiciously.

"Where does this go?"

"It's a surprise. Do you trust me?" She thinks for a second, looking up into his face.

"Yes." He smiles again and leads her up the stairs. At the top, he pushes open the door to the warm night air. They're on the roof looking out over Beale Street. "Oh, wow."

He watches her as she takes in the view. She's beautiful, made even more radiant by the night sky and her delight. Something inside him has him wanting to spend the rest of his life making her smile like that. He walks to a bench and sits down, patting the seat beside him. She plops down next to him and he puts his arm on the bench behind her. Without thinking, she leans back into him, her head finding his shoulder easily.

"This is really neat. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it."

"You really like my music?" She asks tentatively.

"I really do. Your voice is hypnotic and the way you move... You really like mine?"

"Oh yes!" She sits up to turn and look at him. "You're incredible! I'm pretty sure I have every record you've ever released..."

She trails off as he puts his hand on the side of her neck, his thumb grazing her cheek.

His heart is racing as he touches her. He has no idea what he's doing but something about it just feels right. He's dying to kiss her, but they just met.

"I sound like a crazy person don't I? Telling you I have all your records." He laughs and pulls his hand back.

"Nah, I just wish I could buy some a' yours."

"I don't have any."

"That's a damn shame."

"Elvis?" Her eyes flick between his nervously.

"Yeah, Dove?" He sits up and leans forward a little.

"Would you kiss me? I know you kiss your fans sometimes and I just... well... I'd like you to be my first kiss." Elvis has to work to breathe normally. The thought of kissing her is intoxicating.

"Oh, honey, I-"

"Never mind. It's silly." She stands up and walks over to a railing. He follows her, his heart pounding in his chest.

"No, no it's not. And I'm not sayin' no." He looks down at her and she turns to look up into his face.

"You're not?" He swallows hard. He's kissed a hundred girls. Why is the thought of kissing this one making his whole body tingle?

"But I don't wanna kiss ya like a fan. Dovey, when I kiss you, I wanna mean it." She almost swoons with his nickname for her. He cups her chin in his hand and she just about melts right there on the rooftop. He's so much more in person than she expected. Sure, he's cute, cuter even than the pictures she has of him, but she never dreamed he would be so gentle, so warm, so sweet. If he's not careful, he'll have her head over heels by the end of the night.

"I think I'd like that a lot."

"You're pretty incredible, you know that?" She smiles.

"You barely know me."

"I feel like I do. Is that crazy?" He drags his thumb across her bottom lip. Everything inside him is screaming at him to kiss her.

"No. I feel it too." She whispers again, her eyes flicking down to his lips. He can't help it anymore. He starts to lean in slowly, so painfully slowly, trying to control himself. What he really wants is to dramatically sweep her into his arms and make her his right there on the rooftop, but that would be way too much. He wouldn't even know where to begin with that. So instead, he hovers above her lips for a second and then presses his mouth to hers so very gently.

She's about to lose it. The kiss is so tender it makes her want to cry, but there's something in it that rushes through her whole body. Her heart races and her hands tremble and she's overcome with the desire to touch him. She holds back, but the need is there and it's strong.

He goes to pull out of the kiss but he's not ready yet. He needs more, so he changes the angle and kisses her again, this time with a little more passion. Still a closed-mouth kiss, but he presses a little harder against her lips. Almost without his control, his shaking hands find her hips and pull her body in close to his. When he backs away again, she throws her arms around him and pulls him back down to kissing her. This time, he lets his lips part hers and he dips his tongue in carefully. When she doesn't resist, he deepens the kiss pulling her body flush against his and sliding his tongue in to explore her mouth fully.

She has no idea what she's doing, but it feels good and he tastes sweet and oh the ecstasy of pressing up against him is delicious. She could let him kiss her like this all night. The thought occurs to her that he might try and obviously she's never done that before but she might be willing to do it with him.

Every fiber of his being is invested in kissing her and the thought of stopping seems almost impossible. Still, he can feel his body reacting to her closeness and he knows that if this keeps up he may not be able to stop himself. It would be his first time and there's a big part of him that would be okay with it being her, but not yet. So he comes up for air and presses his forehead to hers.

"We need to slow down. I don't want to take this further than we want it to go tonight." She nods.

"I've never..."

"Me neither." She's a little surprised, but it makes him even sweeter in her eyes. "We should wait."

"Yes." She says it breathlessly, noticing how he says wait like it's going to happen for them, just not yet.

"Here. C'mere. Let's sit on the bench and talk for a bit." They go back to the bench and she settles on his shoulder again with his arm around her. He picks up her hand and kisses her fingers. "Where did you come from?"

"Oklahoma. My people are Seminole, but my father moved us away from our land. My parents live in Tulsa and I'm the oldest of five. I'm sorry, you don't want to hear all this boring-"

"I want to know you. Keep talking." She looks up at him and he kisses her gently. There's something about her that makes it impossible for him to keep his lips off of her for too long.

She goes back to telling him about her family and how she ended up in Memphis chasing her music career. He listens attentively and asks questions and kisses her periodically. Eventually, it's his turn and he tells her about growing up in Mississippi, moving here, his parents, and everything else.

They don't even realize how much time passes until the sky begins to lighten and the sun peeks over the horizon. When it does, it finds them kissing again, her legs thrown over his lap, his hand on her knee. His body is weak with wanting to slide it further up her thigh, but he doesn't, praying she can't feel him where his hardness is pressing against his pants. He's never wanted a girl the way he wants her. And it's not just a physical desire. His soul is desperate to connect with her and keep her close. Her presence comforts him and if he didn't know any better he'd swear this is what it feels like to be in love.

She's the one who notices the sunrise, but she doesn't want the night to end.

"Elvis, the sun is coming up." She whispers against his lips. He turns and looks to the horizon.

"I'll be damned. We were up here all night." She laughs her little bird-like laugh and his heart swells.

"I don't want this to be over." She pouts a little. He pushes a piece of her hair back behind her ear and gently caresses her cheek.

"Me neither."

"Will I ever see you again?" He smiles and kisses her softly.

"Honey, I've been looking for you my whole life. You'll never get rid of me now." A warm smile spreads across her face.

"So it's not over? Even when we leave here?"

"Dovey, I think this is just the beginning for us."

He kisses her again as the sun rises on them. And he's right. This is only the beginning.

******

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb

[clangenrising]

Month 17 - Greenleaf

As the group approached the city, Sparrowsway did his best to listen to Scorchplume’s advice. She talked on and on about rules to follow while in the city and he tried to remember them all but there were a lot of them. One in particular made it hard to concentrate on any of the others.

“Oh,” Scorchplume said as they were getting close, “and Goldenstar, when we’re in the city, you’ll have to avoid twining tails with me or using pet names or anything of the sort. No one can know we’re involved with each other.” 

“Really?” Goldenstar frowned sadly.

“Why not?” Floodstrike’s frown was more hostile. 

“Because that kind of thing isn’t okay in the city,” said Scorchplume matter of factly.

“What, having mates isn’t allowed?” asked Sparrowsway, puzzled beyond belief. 

“No,” Scorch sighed, seeming irritated with them. “Cats being mates with someone of the same gender. Or cats changing genders for that matter.” 

“What?!” Sparrowsway and Floodstrike said together. Floodstrike was bristling all over. 

“Easy, boys,” Goldenstar said, “Scorch doesn’t make the rules, she’s just telling us what they are.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Floodstrike hissed. “Why under the stars would those things be against the rules?”

“Because it’s unnatural,” huffed Mystique, the first time she’d spoken the entire trip. “Mollies belong with toms, it’s just biology.” Sparrowsway’s fur prickled with unease at the words. He didn’t exactly know what biology was but he didn’t like the way she said it. 

“Is that what your brother told you?” Branchbark growled venomously. Mystique flinched into herself and dropped her gaze and despite the sick feeling in his gut, Sparrowsway felt bad for her. 

“Hey,” Goldenstar shot Branchbark a stern look. “That’s enough out of everyone, alright? There’s no need to get aggressive.”

“Are you hearing the same thing I’m hearing?” Floodstrike protested. 

“I am,” Goldenstar said, “and I don’t like it any more than you do, but we’re here to find Songdust, not bicker. Let’s save our energy for what’s important.” There was a moment of hesitation where she searched everyone’s faces, Scorchplume joining her with a judgmentally quirked brow. Branchbark grit his teeth but nodded. Floodstrike turned his head away with a frustrated huff. Sparrowsway didn’t feel satisfied at all but he saw the wisdom in Goldenstar’s argument and decided to push his distrust down for now. Russetfrond had taught him better than to get caught up in distracting squabbles. 

“Alright,” he said. “How do we find Songdust?” Goldenstar smiled in relief.

“She’s been gone for a long time,” Scorchplume said, turning forward again, “So she’s either dead, imprisoned somehow, or the Folk took her in. We’ll have to ask around to find out which.”

“We can’t just find her scent and follow it?” asked Floodstrike. 

“The city is as big as all four territories,” Scorchplume rolled her eyes, “maybe bigger. That would take forever and it’s definitely rained since she went missing so we wouldn’t even know where to start. You’ll just have to trust that I know what I’m doing and follow my lead.” 

“Okay,” Sparrowsway nodded. 

They passed by a large twoleg nest with a fenced off field full of strange, smelly grazing animals in relative silence. Sparrowsway was still thinking about what Mystique had said, unable to make sense of it. He could tell Floodstrike was doing the same. Scorchplume led them around the nest to a long, wide, gravel path that they followed towards the city for a good, long while under the blazing sun. 

“The scents aren’t as strong as last time,” Branchbark noted, mouth open to taste the air. 

“They were holding battle drills out here,” Scorchplume hummed. “Maybe they’ve stopped.” Mystique’s tail twitched. 

“Let’s hope so,” Goldenstar said. 

“I wish they’d stop hunting in our territory too,” Floodstrike grumbled. 

The city drew nearer and nearer, looming over them, all strange scents and harsh shapes and loud noises. Sparrowsway’s fur started to lift from his pelt just being close to it. He imagined Songdust wandering this place all alone and a mournful frown tugged painfully at the corners of his mouth. The smell of cats grew stronger and where the gravel turned into a thunderpath, there was a strong border marker carrying the scents of many different toms. The group paused for a moment to scent it, uneasy.

Eventually, Goldenstar stepped over the border and the rest of them followed. After another ten or so minutes of walking, they reached the edge of the city proper, where the fences of twoleg nests sat in a mismatched line stretching east and west for ages. Sparrowsway spotted a cat perched on a fence post just before they dropped down, out of sight. 

“They’ve seen us,” Scorchplume muttered. “When you see them, project strength without aggression. We’re not here to fight them.” 

“Got it,” said Branchbark. 

They walked past the first row of nests to find the thunderpath they had been following split perfectly in two and ran parallel to the nests. Sparrowsway shifted his paws uncomfortably on the hot, stone path that ran along the thunderpath like a riverbank. There were barely any trees here and the grass was shorter than he had ever seen a field of grass, leaving no places to hide. 

“This way,” Scorchplume said, starting across the thunderpath. Sparrowsway took a deep breath and followed her. She led the group over a fence and through a pair of gardens then across another thunderpath and so on and so on for several minutes at a time. Every so often, they spotted twoleg kits squealing and playing or stopped to let a monster rush by along the thunderpath. Sparrowsway bristled at every event. His heart pounded like it was going to burst out of his chest. How did any cat bear to live in a place like this?

Then suddenly there weren’t any more fences or gardens, just the thunderbanks and small patches of that same short grass between the thunderpaths and the red stone nests. The monsters only became more frequent, dashing furiously past them only to stop for seemingly no reason before dashing on again. Sometimes, multiple monsters paused behind each other, standing in lines and rumbling as they poured heat from under their shells. 

There were more cats here, many of them with notched ears, lingering around corners and on flimsy looking black structures that clung to the sides of the nests. Sparrowsway even spotted some resting underneath the bellies of sleeping monsters and the sight made his stomach twist in fear. All of the city cats were staring. Some darted off once they spotted the group of Clan cats but most just sat and stared. 

“I can make it from here,” Mystique said as they all paused under a small wooden outcropping by one thunderbank. Sparrowsway, panting in the heat, couldn’t believe his ears. She wanted to go off alone?!

“Are you sure?” he asked, worriedly. 

“Yeah,” the kittypet rolled her eyes and started to step away. “I know how to get to my own house just fine, thank you. I’m a big girl.” Branchbark lashed his tail. 

“Well, alright,” said Goldenstar. “If you’re certain.” 

“I am,” Mystique sighed in exasperation. Starting to stroll away, she called over her shoulder, “Bye, assholes! Let’s never see each other again!” Floodstrike growled under his breath and Branchbark scowled after her but Scorchplume swished her tail to get everyone’s attention. 

“Forget about her,” she said. “We have a mission to take care of. We’re going to cross the road in three… two… one! Go!” Sparrowsway barely managed to draw his focus back in time to join the mad dash across the thunderpath. They raced behind the line of waiting monsters and onto the thunderbank on the other side. Sparrowsway looked back to make sure everyone had made it with them and sighed in relief. 

“How do cats live here?” Floodstrike panted. “This is terrible!” 

“They’re used to it,” Scorch shrugged, barely out of breath. “Come on.” 

She hurried around the corner into a shaded gap between two of the nests and the others slank after her. Sparrowsway, at least, was grateful to be out of the heat and into a relatively sheltered hiding spot. They padded on through the gap, past some large, foul smelling black things, presumably towards another thunderpath. 

“This way,” a voice sounded from behind them and the warriors bristled, turning around. There was some unintelligible whispering from around the corner and then, after a breathless moment, a trio of cats came around the corner. Two of them had notched ears, including the pitch black tom in the lead. 

“Well, look at that,” he said, yellow eyes roving over the group, “they are wild cats.” 

“They’re here with my permission,” Scorch said, pushing her way through the others to stand in front of him. “I am Gingersnap, the exalted-” 

“We know who you are,” said the other notched cat, a calico tabby with heavy scarring on her neck. “You’re Razor’s girl.” 

“I was,” Scorchplume hissed back. “He’s dead now and I’m my own cat.” 

“Rumor has it you’ve gone native,” said the black tom, shifting his weight. Sparrowsway was struggling to follow the conversation. Scorchplume’s posture was stiff despite her casually disdainful expression. 

“You can’t believe everything you hear,” she laughed coldly. 

“Maybe not,” the tom said, “you came to town with a group of wild cats and you smell just like them. That seems like plenty of proof to me.” Scorch was quiet for a moment too long. 

The calico spoke up again. “Where are you leading them?” 

“We’re looking for a Clanmate of ours,” Goldenstar said, stepping up beside Scorchplume. Sparrowsway noticed the way her tail almost reached out for Scorch’s before flicking the other way at the last second. “She went missing here and we’d like to take her home.” 

“So she’s still in the city?” the calico muttered to the third cat, a blue tabby tom covered in dark smudges of grease. 

“Seems so,” he muttered back.

“That’s nice,” said the black tom, “but you’ll need to leave. Wild cats aren’t welcome here.” 

“Watch your tone, Chaff,” Scorchplume bristled, rising on her toes a bit. “You have no right to tell me and my guests what to do.” 

“What, you’re saying these mangy mountain cats are better than we are?” scoffed the leader. He took a step closer, arching his back, and Floodstrike started to growl. 

“I’m saying they will do what I say they will,” Scorch hissed, stepping up, nose to nose with the black cat, “and you will do the same, or else.”

“Or else what?” laughed the tom. “You said so yourself, Razor’s dead.”

“I am still Exalted,” snarled Scorch. Sparrowsway couldn’t help but shiver at the way she spoke.

“Okay, so we won’t touch you,” the black cat pulled back a bit. “Your wild friends are fair game here.” 

“We outnumber you,” Goldenstar growled. “Walk away. This doesn’t have to get violent.” 

“Did you hear that?” the black cat called back to his companions. “The wild cat threatened to kill me!” 

“Guess we don’t have a choice,” the calico smiled, flexing her claws. 

“Listen to her, Jack,” snapped a voice from further down the alleyway. Sparrowsway turned his head to see a tortoiseshell tabby who looked very much like Goldenstar, if a lot older and more grizzled, limping in their direction. She had a scattering of scars across her face and a torn left ear and, judging by her limp, her right hind leg didn’t work quite right. Despite her haggard appearance, the cats they had been speaking to shifted uneasily as she approached. In that way, she almost reminded him of Sagetooth. He stepped to the side to let her pass. 

“Scram before someone kicks your dumb fuckin’ ass,” the she-cat continued as she came to the front of the crowd. 

“Figures you would be a Clan lover, Jo,” growled the tom - Jack she had called him. 

“Figures you’d be dumb enough to pick fights you can’t finish,” glared Jo. “Now run along or I’ll kick your ass myself.” She squared her shoulders and Sparrowsway watched the muscle ripple under her fur. It didn’t seem to be an empty threat. 

Jack seemed to think so as well and with a disgruntled glance at his companions, he turned and headed back the way he had come. The others followed, grumbling to each other. Sparrowsway let out a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you for that,” Goldenstar said, smiling at the cat who could have easily passed as her grandmother. 

“Eh, it’s no problem,” said Jo with a rugged smile of her own. “Skyraiders are all the fuckin’ same. Lots of talk, no guts.”

“Skyraiders?” Sparrowsway raised his brows. 

“Yeah,” shrugged Jo. “Rudy’s little gang. They call ‘em Skyraiders because Rudy lives on Skyraider Street.” 

“Rudy…” Scorchplume furrowed her brow in thought. “Since when did Rudy have a gang?” 

Jo laughed and started padding back in the direction they had originally been going. “You’ve missed a lot while you’ve been away, miss high and mighty. Come on, I’ll explain everything once your friends are safe.” The patrol looked to Goldenstar for direction. Goldenstar looked to Scorchplume. Scorchplume frowned. 

“I guess it can’t hurt to follow her,” she said. “She’s definitely not Exalted or anything. I doubt she’s leading us into a trap…”

“I think we should trust her,” Goldenstar said, her smile still in place. “Come on, let’s go.” 

“If you say so,” Floodstrike said. They followed after Jo who glanced back with an amused grin. 

“My name’s Jo, by the way,” she said, although it wasn’t necessary. “You are?” 

“Goldenstar. These are my Clanmates, Floodstrike, Sparrowsway, and Branchbark.”

“And your Exalted friend?” Jo quirked one brow knowingly as she glanced at Scorch. 

“Scorch,” she said, casting her gaze up the wall instead of making eye contact. Jo hummed in response and Sparrowsway couldn’t quite place the expression on her face. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you all,” said Jo. “Sorry I didn’t intercept you sooner. My leg ain’t what it used to be.” 

“You were looking for us?” Sparrowsway asked. 

“Oh, yes,” nodded Jo. “A friend of a friend saw you coming in and, well, someone had to get you before those fuckin’ meatheads did.” 

“We appreciate it,” Goldenstar said. “We’re looking for a Clanmate of ours who’s been lost in the city for a few months. She’s a-”

“Yes, yes,” Jo interrupted. “I know Songdust. You’ll see her soon enough.” 

“What?” Branchbark gaped. 

“I told you,” Jo said, “I’ll explain everything once we’re somewhere safe, now get ready, we’ve got to cross the road.” She led them out of the alley towards another thunderpath while everyone exchanged confused but excited glances. Scorchplume chewed her lip, a storm of thoughts behind her eyes, but Goldenstar was smiling ear to ear. 

Sparrowsway couldn’t believe it. They’d already stumbled into a cat who could take them straight to Songdust. It was almost too good to be true! Still, stranger things had happened. Sparrowsway whispered his thanks to StarClan and braced himself for the terrifying sprint between him and his missing Clanmate.

[katelynnwrites]

All I Want For Christmas (Is You) | Laura Freigang

warnings: f for fluff and c for christmas

word count: 2176

summary: you surprise your girlfriend for christmas

a/n: merry christmas folks, have a good one 🎄❤️

Lucas thinks his sister is sulking. Correction, he knows she is sulking.

The blonde has been sitting at their family table, staring at her phone silently with a small frown on her face.

Her breakfast has been left untouched and he kicks her shin under the table to get her attention.

‘What?’ Laura snaps, setting her phone down and leveling her brother with a glare.

He simply asks, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Lau come on.’ He tries although he’s already pretty sure he knows what’s wrong.

His suspicions are confirmed when his sister lets out a quiet sigh.

‘I miss her.’

The forward looks so sad at the thought of your absence that Lucas can’t help but feel sorry for her.

Luckily, he knows something she doesn’t, something that will definitely make her feel better.

******

Letting your girlfriend think you both would be spending Christmas apart has been one of the hardest things you’ve ever done.

The German woman had been eagerly planning on spending her holiday with both you and her family back in Kiel when you told her about your grandmother asking you to go home to Sweden.

Laura knows how close you are to your grandmother and with you playing in Frankfurt with her, knows how much you have missed her.

So she had insistently told you to go despite your protests that you didn’t have to because you’d already promised to go to Kiel with her.

At the very beginning of your relationship, the blonde and you had already decided to take turns spending Christmas with each other’s families.

It was meant to be Laura’s family’s turn to have you both over this year.

Celebrating the holiday apart had never been an option until now.

It still isn’t to you.

But you had let the striker believe that you were going back to Sweden, taking the chance to surprise her.

Surprising Laura is a rare thing for you. It’s not for a lack of trying but rather your girlfriend simply knows you too well.

It’s awfully hard keeping your secret, especially when the Eintracht Frankfurt player was nearly in tears as she saw you off at the airport.

‘I’ll miss you so.’ She had whispered, tucking her face into the side of your neck and holding you close.

You had given her heaps of kisses, pressing them onto her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and her lips.

Enough to cause the German woman to smile when you finally stepped back.

‘I’ll see you soon Lau. Promise.’

‘I’m going to hold you to that.’ She’d softly answered, linking her pinky with yours for a brief moment.

Then it had been time for you to go and Laura had stood at the departure hall as you went through airport security till she couldn’t see you anymore.

Her brother had been right when he said his sister was a big ‘anything for my person’ kind of girl.

******

Lucas had been brought into your plan as soon as you had thought of it and he had readily agreed to help.

He did however, count it as his Christmas present to Laura.

Your time back in your home country was enjoyable, filled with helping your grandmother to bake Christmas cookies and spending time with your other family members.

Your girlfriend video called every day, blowing kisses hello and pouting a little every time the call had to end.

She sends you photos of everything, be it the small snow man she had made or the supermarket nearest her family home, all decorated for the holiday.

It’s sweet how much she tries to make sure you don’t miss out on anything.

As the days go by back in Kiel though, Lucas does begin to get a little annoyed at his sister’s ability to look at virtually anything and think of you.

But he cannot fault her for it, not when you both have been together for six years already, ever since Laura had asked you out shortly after you met on Penn State’s college team.

Being the only Europeans on the team, it made sense for the two of you to bond. What you hadn’t anticipated was how quickly the blonde had made herself a place in your heart.

Now you can easily say that your heart belongs to her.

Your girlfriend says the same for herself, occasionally dramatically claiming that you stole her heart the second you walked into the locker room back in Pennsylvania.

She’s a unique one for sure but she is your Laura and you wouldn’t change her for the world.

******

If Lucas thought his sister had been sad on Christmas morning, it’s nothing compared to how she is now.

It is nearing evening and she’s quietly sitting on the couch, holding her phone in her hands and staring at it’s blank screen.

You haven’t called or answered any of her texts and frankly, that is so unlike you that the blonde is seriously considering getting on a plane to Sweden.

She is weighing the pros and cons of the decision when her mother sits down beside her, pulling her into a side hug.

‘I’m sorry. I know the holiday doesn’t seem right without her.’

‘I miss her. More than I ever thought possible.’ Laura chokes out, tears springing to her eyes at the admission.

‘I know honey I know.’

The older woman strokes her hair gently and the striker sniffles.

Your girlfriend is subdued as she mumbles, ‘I wished her Merry Christmas hours ago and she still hasn’t answered…’

‘She’ll reply to you. You know she will. Now why don’t you come with me and your father to the Christmas market while you wait for that? You’ve always liked it there and you can pick out a little something for my future daughter in law.’

The Eintracht Frankfurt forward is not upset enough to miss her mother’s less than subtle way of distracting her.

She rolls her eyes, wiping at them with her sleeve as she composes herself.

‘Is Lucas coming?’ She asks after a moment, her voice significantly steadier.

Laura’s mother keeps her smile hidden as she answers, ‘No. He has an errand to run.’

******

His errand is in fact, to pick you up from the airport and smuggle you into his bedroom before your girlfriend gets back.

Lucas manages to do so and you thank him gratefully, only for him to teasingly say that he only did so because his sister wouldn’t stop moping.

‘She’s making Christmas depressing.’ He complains.

You laugh.

‘I miss her a lot too. She’s my other half and I don’t remember how to properly celebrate Christmas without her.’

‘Oh not you too.’ Lucas groans.

‘Sorry.’ You say, with a grin.

‘My sister should be back anytime now so just wait here for a while, until I can sneak you down as my present.’

Hugging your girlfriend’s brother tightly, you murmur your thanks again before he leaves.

******

You know the moment Laura comes back because your girlfriend is far from the quietest person. Even with the room door closed, you can hear her.

The sound of her laughter makes you smile softly. It’s only been a week since you’ve last heard it in person but that’s too long.

You swear that even in the midst of a crowd, you’ll be able to pick out your girlfriend’s laugh every time.

It is your favourite sound.

You have missed the blonde so much that having her just downstairs and not being to go to her immediately makes you impatient.

Fiddling with the gift you had chosen for Laura seems like a good distraction.

You hope she likes it because it certainly wasn’t easy to find.

******

Just when you are beginning to wonder if Lucas is ever going to come back, the door opens.

‘Come on. Mom’s in the kitchen distracting Laura.’

He hurries you down and leads you through the living room and out the front door, which he promptly closes in your face, with a mischievous smile.

You giggle softly when seconds later, his raised voice can be heard ‘Laura! My Christmas present for you is outside!’

You can picture your girlfriend’s suspicious look and know that she’ll be grumbling to herself.

There’s a little smile on your face as you hear her footsteps as well as a not so quiet, ‘I swear Lucas if this is some joke of yours…’

The striker is taking her time and her brother tries to get her to speed up.

‘Laura, your present is getting cold out there!’

‘How can it possibly be getting-’

The door opens and your girlfriend’s words trail off.

‘Merry Christmas schatz.’ You greet cheekily, holding out the wrapped gift you had brought for her.

Your favorite person flings herself at you and you giggle as you catch her, stumbling backwards slightly.

The blonde wraps her legs around your waist, pressing her face into your shoulder.

‘Lau. I love you but you gotta get down. I’m going to drop your gift. You breathlessly say.

‘Drop it.’ She mumbles.

Even with the German woman’s hair in your face, you can see her parents chuckle. They’re watching you both from the doorway, along with Lucas who rolls his eyes fondly.

‘You really don’t want me to do that. It’s fragile.’ You try but your girlfriend stubbornly refuses.

‘Schatz just a second okay?’

Laura frowns but relents reluctantly.

Her beautiful claret grey eyes are sparkling and you lean in to kiss her gently.

‘I love you.’

‘Love you too.’ She whispers.

The striker is still in somewhat of a daze, staring at you in disbelief.

‘How are you here? Why are you here?’

Her family laughs at her words and you shrug with a smile.

‘Couldn’t spend Christmas away from you. Also your brother mentioned something about you being a bit of a Grinch?’

‘Was not. And I was only sad because I missed you so much.’ Laura defends.

You chuckle, placing another delicate kiss onto her lips.

‘I’m here now.’

******

Your girlfriend sticks close to you, absolutely refusing to let go of your hand.

The only exception is when she opens the present you give her.

She’d been eyeing the box ever since you passed it to her.

‘Is it a camera?’ The blonde hopefully asks.

‘Possibly.’ You smile.

Laura’s excitement increases and she carefully undoes the tape holding the wrapping paper close.

Your grin grows as she opens it, the striker’s jaw practically dropping open as she sees it.

‘I’ve been looking for this forever.’ She whispers.

‘I know.’ You tell her.

It’s a vintage Leica analog camera. One that your girlfriend has been searching for to add to her collection.

‘You’re incredible. Thank you.’

Your girlfriend can’t stop smiling long enough to kiss you properly but she tries to anyway.

‘Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.’ She says as she peppers your face with kisses.

‘You’re welcome.’ You get out, in between bright giggles.

Laura’s happiness is radiant and you find yourself captivated by it.

‘I love you.’ The German woman tells you.

‘I mean it.’ She adds after a moment.

The way your gaze on her softens lets her know that you get it. That you get what she’s trying to put into words.

It’s a moment that you want captured, one that Laura’s father is more than happy to help with.

******

Your girlfriend pulls you out onto the porch of her family house after the rest of her family have finished opening their presents.

‘You okay?’ You ask in concern.

‘Yeah. More than okay. I just wanted to be alone with you for a while.’ The striker explains.

Your heart practically melts and that reflects in your body language as you lean into Laura’s arms, letting the German woman press your back flush against her front.

She kisses the shell of your ear affectionately before resting her chin on your shoulder.

‘Are you sure that your grandmother is okay with you being here?’ She murmurs quietly.

You squeeze Laura’s hand lightly, ‘She is. She even insisted on me packing you a box of the Christmas cookies that we made together. It’s in my suitcase upstairs.’

‘Oh good. I like those.’

You laugh a little and soak in the embrace, the blonde’s presence alone, making you feel content.

She smells like home, home is wherever she is.

Your girlfriend takes in a deep breath before letting it out in a huff.

‘I left your present back home in Frankfurt.’ Laura dejectedly says.

‘That’s okay schatz. I was meant to surprise you after all.’

Your favourite person kisses the top of your head.

‘You’re the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.’

‘Does Lucas not get credit for it?’ You tease.

The forward sighs, ‘I’ll thank him but can we please have a few more minutes where it’s just us first? I don’t want to share you yet.’

You giggle, turning around to kiss her senseless.

‘Of course. I love you Lau.’

‘I love you too.’ She breathes, pulling you impossibly closer and pressing her own lips onto yours.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Could you please write an imagine about biding Jack Gibbs with Gibbs and your kids? Maybe baby and toddler going for weekend at grandpas

Moments Like These

Jethro pulled into the gravel driveway behind his father’s truck, who was sitting in an old wicker chair on his porch and waving. Turning towards the backseat, you saw your little girl’s eyes closed in sleep while holding onto her favorite stuffie.

“Sweetie, wake up. We’re at Grandpa’s,” you said, gently touching her leg. She opened her eyes and looked around curiously, stretching her arms above her head.

As soon as she caught sight of Jackson walking over, her eyes lit up with joy.

“Pop-pop!”

You got out to help her but by the time you went to open her door, she was already unbuckled and climbing out.

“Hold on bug. Let me help you.”

Once her feet were on the ground, she made a beeline for Jackson, her little light up shoes flashing rainbows with every step.

“There she is!” yelled Jackson as he caught her in a big hug. You smiled at their interaction and helped Jethro grab the bags from the car, everyone following him into his childhood home. Jackson had already arranged everything so the two of you were staying in the guest room and your daughter in Jethro’s old room right next door. After unpacking, you and Jethro conjured downstairs where your daughter was munching on some goldfish and Jackson was sipping on some coffee. Like a moth to a flame, Jethro poured himself a cup of as well.

“You know, you all came at the perfect time. I just talked with Tommy and he said he’d be more than happy to take you folks out to see the ranch,” Jackson offered.

You heard a grunt come from Jethro as he turned. “Tommy Claireborn? He still out being the town’s poster boy?”

“Now Jethro. I know you two had your differences in the past but he’s not like that anymore. Heath sold him that ranch a few years back and he’s been a hard working man ever since. I just thought little miss would have fun seeing some horses.”

Hearing the word horse, your daughter’s blue eyes got bright with excitement.

“I wanna see horsies!”

Knowing he couldn’t deny her, Jethro sighed and you made a mental note to ask him about his quarrel with Tommy.

————

Jackson opted to stay and wait for you guys at house, telling you his legs weren’t a match for the countryside terrain. After getting a quick rundown from Jackson on how to get there, you three loaded up in the car and headed out.

“So was Tommy one of your many rivals you got into a fight with?” you inquired, knowing Jethro didn’t have many admirers back in the day.

“He was a stuck up punk that relied on his rich dad to get him out of trouble. When him and his friends tried hotwiring my truck, I knocked him out and his dad got me suspended,” he explained nonchalantly.

“My my. You did have quite the temper back then didn’t you Jethro?” you teased. “Hopefully he’s a changed man like your father said.”

He just let out a doubtful snort and you rolled your eyes at his stubbornness.

It didn’t take long to get to the ranch and a man came out to meet us halfway, dressed in your standard cowboy rancher outfit.

“Leroy Gibbs! Never thought I’d see you back in this town. Especially with a wife and kid,” the man you assumed was Tommy joked.

“Good to see you too Tommy,” Jethro replied, biting his tongue you were sure. Feeling his annoyance, you took a hold of his arm and gave him a gentle squeeze.

“Alright. Well Jackson told me ya’ll wanted to see the new filly. Follow me.”

You all walked over to the barn and Tommy opened up the top of one of the stalls revealing a beautiful chestnut mare.

“I’ll go get you folks some apples you can feed them,” he stated before walking off.

Jethro picked up your little girl whose eyes were wide with wonder at the massive animal. He pet her first, making sure she didn’t spook and you could see your daughter’s grip get tighter on his jacket.

“You wanna pet her? She won’t hurt you. Just be gentle.”

He took her tiny hand in his and placed it on the bridge of her nose, petting softly. She let out a little smile and you couldn’t resist pulling your phone out to take some pictures.

“Horsey,” she stated, looking at her dad with pure happiness.

“Here we go,” Tommy said while coming over with some sliced apples. He gave a couple to each of us and opened the stall door so we could see the filly that was sleeping as well.

As soon as the momma horse took the apple slice out of Jethro and your daughter’s hand, she let out a delighted squeal, making all of you laugh. It was moments like these that had you forever grateful for the life you shared with Jethro and your little girl.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Accent

Jaskier has a Northern accent that he works really hard to hide. He learned early on that most people, especially among the nobility, considered Northerners to be lower than peasants. A Northern accent was a black mark on the person, labeling them as bumpkins or hill folk.

Jaskier saw how anyone with an accent even remotely close to Northern was ridiculed and bullied both inside and outside of Court. So he spent a lot of time practicing speaking in a Court accent until he perfected it.

By the time he went off to study in Oxenfurt, he had become comfortable with the new accent, and it sounded completely natural. He didn't have to worry about being looked down on, or ridiculed, and he discovered that a lot of people found a Court accent attractive.

But there was always that fear that he was going to slip and some one would find out about his Northern accent. He was terrifed when he started following Geralt, and when he met Yennefer.

Geralt never said anything, but he could hear that Jaskier's accent wasn't natural. There were slight differences in inflection, and pronunciation, and tiny inconsistencies that normal humans would never notice but a Witcher's sensitive ears easily picked up on. Whatever the reason was for the affectation was none of Geralt's business.

The more time Geralt spent with Jaskier, the more he noticed the little slips in this Court accent. He figured out the reason for the fake accent when he started hearing his real accent come through.

Geralt remembered the first time Jaskier's accent had slipped out.

The had made camp after a long day of entertaining at the town festival. Jaskier had been very tired, and he was upset about a few things Valdo Marx had said to him. He'd laughed it off, turning the insults and insinuations into an improv song that had the crowd laughing and cheering him boistrously before sweeping him away to the closest inn for a round of drinks while Valdo stood fuming impotently.

But now that they were alone, he'd allowed himself to feel the hurt, and his accent had taken on a sing-songy quality, and he'd gone hard on his T's for a second when he referred to Valdo Marx as "that b**tart!"

Oh, f**k!

Jaskier internally panicked the second he realized he'd dropped his affected accent. Ok, calm down! Maybe he didn't hear. You know he tunes you out most of the time. Act natural, pretend like everything is normal!

Jaskier continued rummaging through his pack, sneaking a quick glance at Geralt while continuing to insult Valdo as he shook out his bedroll, flapping the blanket aggresssively before laying it out. Geralt seemed oblivious, his attention on gathering deadfall for the fire and digging out the fire pit.

Jaskier allowed himself to breathe a silent sigh of relief. The Witcher hadn't noticed. Thank all the gods!

Geralt was scraping out a little pit for the fire when he heard Jaskier drop his accent for just a second. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bard freeze for a split second, and Geralt calmly continued with his task as if he hadn't noticed. All the while he was thinking "He has a Northern accent! No wonder he sounds off sometimes!"

From then on, Geralt started really listening, intrigued and wanting to hear more of his real voice. He caught little snatches of it here and there, mostly when Jaskier was drunk, tired, upset, or excited. Or when he thought he was alone, and was composing a song or poem.

Geralt was always careful to never let on that he noticed when that lovely, sing-songy accent slipped out. It was hard, forcing himself to keep that big stupid smile off his face that threatened to come out whenever he heard Jaskier 'go Northern'.

When Yennefer came into the picture, Jaskier was on edge, constantly on guard to keep his Northern accent hidden. She was the last person he wanted to find out about it.

She already hates me. No reason to make her think I'm stupid, too!

He did an excellent job of hiding it, not wanting to give the witch any ammunition in their perpetual war of words. He finally bonded with her, saw her as family like he did Geralt, and he doubled down on keeping his accent a secret.

He could talk to her about anything, show her every side of him, like he could with Geralt, but the accent was one thing he did not want to share. He was terrified that she would look at him differently. That both of them would. He didn't think his heart would survive that.

Yennefer had been fighting for her life the first time she heard Jaskier's Northern accent come out.

Jaskier had caught a fever while performing in one of the towns. He was delirious, and Yennefer had been getting him to drink a potion and he'd just completely dropped his affected accent as he started talking random nonsense to her.

She had paused as she was tucking him back in, staring at him in disbelief as he chattered on.

Yennefer had squealed in lowercase.

"Oh! My! Gods! He's, he's got a-!"

"Northern accent. I know. He's been faking a Court accent-!"

"I know what it is, and it's f***ing cute!"

"Gods you sound like a giddy little maid!"

"Like you can say anything, Geralt, when you're standing there grinning like a boy who's just gotten his first peek at a pair of tits!"

Yennefer and Geralt never let on that they knew, and it bothered them that Jaskier didn't seem to feel like he could trust them. They understood why he was hiding it, though, so they satisfied themselves with enjoying the rare times when it slipped out.

It was not heavy, like many Northerners' accents were. Jaskier's accent was lighter, more delicate, but it did tend to get heavier when he was in an emotional state.

They did their best to pretend they didn't notice the little lapses, but they couldn't help but smile when it happened. And Jaskier eventually figured out that they both knew--had known for a while.

Yennefer had run into them in town, and they were having dinner in their room at the inn. Jaskier had been chattering on about how one of his sets had gone, and he'd gotten a little too excited. Yennefer's eyes had gone soft and...and sparkly, and she'd glanced at Geralt, whose face was lit up with the sunniest smile which he was desperately trying to hide behind his tankard of ale.

OhHhH f**K, tHeY'd hEaRd iT!!!! He froze, going stock still. Any minute now, they were going to start lauging at him.

Geralt just smiled and took another drink while Yennefer just kept looking at him with that, that adoring look. That was when he knew.

"When?" Jaskier had asked, mortified after he realized.

Geralt had swallowed his ale with a thoughtful 'Hm' and replied. "A few days after you started following me around. Your accent sounded off, but I wasn't sure why. Figured it out after you started b*tching about Valdo Marx one night."

Jaskier mentally kicked himself. Of course a Witcher would have been able to tell!

"And you?", he asked Yennefer

"That time you had that bad fever. You babbled on in the most intriguing accent about everything under the heavens. We got to listen to it for two whole days!"

Jaskier hid his face in his hands, dinner forgotten as he slid down in his chair with an embarrassed groan.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because we knew why you were hiding it, Lark", Yennefer said, "I've been in Court. I know how the nobility are."

"You don't have to hide it anymore. Not around us," Geralt said.

"You...you don't think I sound...stupid?"

Yennefer tapped him on the head with her empty plate as she walked by, "No, you little b*llend! It's sing-songy and cute, and you sound adorable!"

It took him some time, but he was finally able to let himself relax and stop using the adopted accent with Yennefer and Geralt.

He would forget sometimes, because he was a performer, and an act could be hard to put aside. Especially if it had helped you survive for so many years.

It would sometimes take an hour or two after a long day of performing for the public for Geralt and Yennefer's 'Sing-Songy Twit' to relax enought to drop the Court accent and be himself. And when he did, one of them would always say warmly "There you are, Jaskier!"

[movedtone0mile]

the perfect hostess

60s AU 

husband!Jaehyun x housewife!F!reader

feat Johnny and Taeyong

warnings: 60s gender roles, mention of alcohol, johnny and taeyong are attracted to Y/N, smut, minors dni!!! bad english from a french person (blame grammarly), probably anachronisms idk how folks talked in this period but you ain’t reading this for historical accuracy.

word count: 3.5K

AN: I tried something new ok, I addressed Y/N as “she” rather than “you”, tell me if you have a preference, but I’m not a big fan of this formula (“she” sounds more repetitive to me for some reason and I had to use  ”Y/N”  a lot more which I know can bother some people)

summary: Jaehyun loves his wife, she's lovely, pretty and most importantly: the perfect hostess. So when he invites his co-workers Johnny and Taeyong over, he's pleased to see that they all envy his marriage.

Jaehyun and Y/N could not be a happier couple. They lived in a well-furnished suburban house, Y/N was a dedicated housewife and Jaehyun was a successful businessman. He worked hard to provide for his family, but always found time to enjoy his wife’s company, despite his busy schedule. Oh Y/N was certain she made the best match in town. 

Jaehyun was very much in love with his wife, and always looked forward to coming home to her after a long day at work. Y/N, on her side, admired Jaehyun's work and dedication to what he did. She loved hearing about his work projects and the challenges he faced. So when Jaehyun suggested this dinner with his colleagues, she was happy to accept. “It sounds like a great idea darling.”

He nodded excitedly. “Yes, I would be delighted if you met them.” Walking behind her, he blew air on her exposed neck, making her shiver. “And it would also be an opportunity for me to show off your fantastic cooking skills.” 

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at his compliment. "Well, I'd love to have them over. How many are we talking about?"

“Just a few. Two, maybe.” Jaehyun said. “I would not want the whole office to think that I am their friend. I have to maintain some kind of hierarchy, you know.” 

"I'll start planning the menu then," Y/N replied, already thinking about the dishes she could prepare.

“Well, we are not in a hurry..” Jaehyun kissed her neck, down to her clavicles and Y/N gripped the counter as she sighed. 

꧁ ♡ ꧂

Dinner was scheduled for Friday, and as the end of the week approached, Y/N's excitement grew, and she spent her week focusing on making sure everything was perfect. She was both impatient and anxious. She was determined to make a good impression. 

On the morning of the dinner, Y/N woke up early, eager to get started on the preparations. She took extra care in selecting the ingredients for the meal, making sure they were fresh and of the highest quality. She meticulously cleaned and arranged the dining room, preparing the house for the arrival of Jaehyun and his colleagues. Then, she spent hours in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. 

In the evening, she heard the sound of keys turning in the lock, accompanied by a bunch of husky voices. The men arrived promptly at the agreed-upon time, Jaehyun insisted on not making his wife wait. 

When they walked through the door, Y/N rushed out of her apron and into the lobby. 

The two men putting their jackets on the coat rack were very handsome. The former threw her a bright smile, to which she responded shyly, meanwhile, the other was taller than Jaehyun and had sharp eyes. Hers dropped to the floor, and she did not dare to hold eye contact with him. 

“Don’t mind her, she can be a bit shy.” Jaehyun chuckled. 

His soft smile managed to ease his wife a little, and she eventually welcomed their guests with a warm demeanour. Jaehyun introduced Y/N to the two men, who she now recognized as Taeyong and Johnny. Jaeyhun had insisted on her calling them by their first names, but she did not feel comfortable enough yet.

Y/N led her guests to the dining room, where they were met with a beautifully set table and the delicious smell of the food she had prepared. Jaehyun followed closely behind and the group settled in around the table. 

꧁ ♡ ꧂

Y/N came back from the kitchen, holding a platter of steaming hot lasagna in her hands. She felt a surge of nervous excitement when she set it in the centre of the beautiful spread she had laid on the table her husband and his colleagues were seated. “I hope you all like lasagna.”

Jaehyun looked up at her with a grin. “I am sure it will be perfect, love.”

Johnny and Taeyong took in her elegant dress and overall stunning appearance and smiled. She felt her cheeks flush under their gaze, not used to receiving the attention of men who weren’t her husband. 

“Thank you for having us over, Y/N.” Taeyong said, his voice smooth. “It looks absolutely delicious.”

Johnny nodded in agreement, his eyes still fixed on his friend’s wife. “Yeah thanks for having us. You look beautiful, by the way.”

Jaehyun arched an eyebrow and Y/N, flattered, muttered a small “thank you”. 

As they started to dig into the lasagna, Y/N watched the men anxiously, waiting for their reaction. She needn’t have worried though. 

“This is amazing, Y/N,” Taeyong said between bites. “You are a fantastic cook.”

“I have to say, Jaehyun, you’re lucky to have such a talented wife.” His colleague added. 

Jaehyun’s eyes narrowed at the comment, curious about where this was going. 

Y/N, on the other hand, was simply relieved that her efforts had paid off. 

The dinner progressed and Jaehyun, Johnny and Taeyong found themselves drawn into a conversation about business -probably to avoid the elephant in the room. They discussed challenges they faced, other co-workers and business strategies.

Y/N, noticing the intensity of the conversation, couldn’t help but feel a little left out. She had always been proud of her husband���s success in his field, but she had little interest in it.

As the conversation continued, she excused herself from the table, taking their now empty plates with her. The technical jargon and strategic planning were a bit too much for her, and she felt a little out of place. She retreated to the kitchen to clean up a bit and finish preparing dessert. 

Jaehyun had noticed her discomfort. He had realized that the conversation had become a little too technical and business-oriented for her liking. He did feel a twinge of guilt for not including her more, but he needed her out in order to discuss the matter he wanted to discuss with the men at the table.

He hadn’t even need to bring the subject up by himself, as after a moment of awkward silence, Johnny spoke up. “Jaehyun, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you are very lucky to have a wife like yours.”

Taeyong nodded in agreement. “It is hard not to be drawn to her…”

“I can see why you’re so crazy about her man.” the taller man pursued, sipping on his wine. 

At first, Jaehyun had felt a twinge of jealousy. He loved Y/N more than anything in the world, and the thought of anyone else showing interest in her would usually upset him. But right now, he found the situation quite amusing. In fact, he felt a strange sense of pride that his wife could be so appealing to other men. It was proof of how wonderful she was, and he couldn’t help but feel a little smug about the fact that he was the one to have you. 

 “She is quite amazing, right?”

Taeyong and Johnny both nodded, their eyes lingering on the kitchen door, where Y/N had disappeared. 

“You guys seem to be really interested in Y/N.” Jaehyun said, looking directly at them. 

Taeyong and Johnny exchanged a glance before Johnny spoke up again.

“I told you, and I told her, I won’t deny that she is a very attractive woman,” he said “but we would never do anything to jeopardize your marriage, I hope you know that. We are friends after all.”

Jaehyun took a sip of his drink before responding. 

“I am very lucky to have her, indeed.”

Setting down his glass, he stood up, “Excuse me for a moment, gentlemen. I need to check on my wife.” and made his way to the kitchen to find her. 

When he found her, Y/N was arranging the plates for dessert. He could see the tension in her shoulders and got closer. 

“Are you okay darling?”

She jumped when she noticed him, looking up. “Yes, I’m fine don’t worry.”

Putting his head on her shoulder, he waited quietly for her to be honest, as he always did, and it had always worked. 

“I feel a little out of place with all that business talk.” She admitted. “I don’t understand all those technical terms, and I feel like I don’t belong in the conversation…”

He wrapped his arms around her before apologizing: “I am sorry Y/N. I should have made sure you were included.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s important to you, and I want you to know that I am proud of you and all of your accomplishments.” With that, she turned around and leaned in to kiss him softly. 

Jaehyun helped Y/N carry all the plates when they both emerged from the kitchen. Y/N apologized for her absence and, now in better spirits she was ready to be attentive to all of her guests’ needs, making sure they had everything they needed and that their glasses were always full. She engaged in lively conversations, in which they seemed very interested, and quickly found herself enjoying their company. She was grateful for the opportunity to get to know her husband’s colleagues and friends better. 

However, as they chatted and laughed over dinner, Jaehyun couldn’t help but notice the way that Taeyong and Johnny paid his wife extra attention. They both leaned in when she spoke, their eyes never leaving her. It was as if they were both competing for her attention. 

Even though Y/N enjoyed both of their companies, her impressions of Johnny and Taeyong were quite different. 

Taeyong was very charming, and she already grew acquainted with his infectious laugh. She found herself giggling at his jokes and feeling an odd flutter in her stomach when he shot her a smile. He was attentive, engaging and seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. There was something about him that was hard to resist.

On the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by Johnny’s presence. Something about him made her feel strange. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, with his intense gaze and easy smile, or maybe it was the way he seemed to effortlessly dominate the conversation, his every word commanding attention, even from her husband. 

However she felt, she felt a little guilty for feeling this way. After all, they were colleagues and friends of Jaehyun’s, but she couldn’t help it. 

Jaehyun could see the way that Y/N was flustered by all the attention she was receiving, the proud feeling lingering. It was somehow gratifying to see others recognize the woman he had chosen to dedicate his life to, and he could tell that she enjoyed it as well. In the end, he knew he had nothing to worry about, Y/N loved him just as much as he loved her. He still made a mental note to keep an eye on the situation though. 

As they finished dessert and coffee, the conversation turned to more lighthearted topics. Y/N told a funny story about her parents’ dog, and Johnny shared hilarious anecdotes from his trips, which contrasted a bit with the cold first impression he made on Y/N. Taeyong laughed along with them, his eyes lingering on Y/N whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. 

The dinner drew to a close and Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction wash over her. She had succeeded in making the evening a success, and her guests had enjoyed themselves. She knew that Jaehyun would be pleased as well, and that thought was enough to make her happy. 

Jaehyun thanked his colleagues for coming and walked them to the door. 

Before they could say their goodbyes, Jaehyun could not fight the urge to take Y/N by the waist, lean in and kiss her. He knew he didn’t have to be scared of his guests, and jealousy had been replaced by something else throughout the night, but Jaehyun still somehow felt like he had something to prove. 

Heat rushed to Y/N’s cheeks. She was pleased with her husband’s display of affection, but she was surprised he would do this in front of his co-workers. Placing his hands on the small of her back, Jaehyun deepened the kiss, pulling her closer. 

Johnny and Taeyong watched them with envy from the front door, feeling a bit jealous of the loving couple in front of them, as they were both unmarried. He felt their burning gazes on him, but all Jaehyun could focus on was the way his wife melted into his kiss, her hands gripping his arms. 

Johnny cleared his throat, trying to break the tension, “Well, we should probably get going.” 

The couple untangled from each other, Y/N still a bit dazed by her husband’s action. 

Taeyong nodded, his eyes still fixed on Y/N, “Yes, it is getting late.” 

“Well, goodnight guys,” Jaehyun said, his voice light, and smile smug. “Thanks for coming over.”

“It was nice to meet you.” Y/N added politely. 

Both men reluctantly tore their gaze away from Y/N, and as they made their way to the sidewalk, they couldn’t help but daydream about what it would be like to be in Jaehyun’s shoes. 

꧁ ♡ ꧂

When they left and the couple was finally left alone, Jaehyun pulled his wife close. 

“You did an amazing job tonight Y/N,” he declared, wrapping his strong arms around her. 

She smiled back at him, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. “Thank you, I am glad you enjoyed it,” she said, snuggling into his embrace. 

“I knew you would be the perfect hostess. Thank you for making this evening so special.” He whispered, his breath hot on her skin. “Let me thank you as you deserve.”

Suddenly, he leaned in and kissed her one more time. This time, it was a gentle, tender kiss. Y/N felt a warm feeling spread through her chest and wrapped her arms around Jaehyun’s neck. They stood there for a long moment, lost in the feeling of each other’s lips, before Jaehyun decided to lead Y/N to the living room, loosening his tie in the process. 

Once there, he pushed her gently to sit on the couch and kneeled in front of her on the ground. With his hands, he began to stroke her legs, Y/N shivered as Jaehyun’s fingers went up from her ankles to the inside of her thighs. He took one of her feet and placed it on his shoulder, he then proceeded to take off the heels she was wearing, his eyes intensely looking into hers. 

“You have worked so hard today. You deserve a rest.”

Y/N sighed, getting more and more relaxed, and Jaehyun released her right leg to repeat his action on the left one, leaving a few kisses here and there. 

With his wife’s shoes off, Jaehyun got up and took place next to her, where he got her to sit on his lap. Y/N placed her hands on his shoulders, waiting for his next move, but Jaehyun was taking a moment to observe her face. 

Her lips always offered him the brightest smile when he came home, her cheeks lit up with a pink shade when he complimented her, and her eyes were always the ones to betray her emotions, whenever she did not dare to speak up. 

“I love you so much.” He murmured. 

“Oh, Jaehyun..” Y/N leaned in to connect their lips with a new fervour. She cradled his face in her hands and pushed her chest onto his. Jaehyun’s hands travelled from her neck to the collar of her dress and began to unbutton it, exposing more and more of her skin. Pulling the dress down her shoulders, he attached his lips to it and grabbed her thighs to fumble them. Y/N let out a moan and he took advantage of her open mouth to slide his tongue inside of it. Her hands went to his hair and began to mindlessly tug on his locks. “Would you let me take it off?” He asked sweetly, tugging on the fabric. Y/N nodded in agreement and got up on her feet before dropping her dress to the floor. 

Jaehyun admired his wife’s body for a moment before motioning her to join him on the couch. “You know, you’ve made quite an impression tonight.”

Y/N smiled, pleased with Jaehyun’s satisfaction. “Thank you, I hope they liked my cooking.” Jaehyun chuckled and she frowned, apprehensive. 

“They’ve liked more than that darling.” He laid her down under him on the sofa and went back to kiss her neck, an enigmatic smile on his face. 

Y/N sighed, but curiosity about what he had just said prevented her from enjoying his gestures to the fullest. Feeling her tense, Jaehyun straightened, looking into her eyes for any kind of discomfort. 

“Jaehyun, what do you mean “more than that”?” 

With a raise of his eyebrows, he grinned, again. “Oh, how can I tell you that, love? You know Johnny and Taeyong aren’t married, and I think tonight you made them quite envious of our life together.” 

“Really?” Y/N asked, worried. She never meant to make them uncomfortable or for them to feel unhappy with their own situation.  

“Well, it is not our marriage that they envy the most.” He went down to whisper in her ear. “It is you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“They are very attracted to you darling. But how could I blame them? You are indeed the most beautiful woman one’s ever laid their eyes on.”

She looked at him sceptically. “Well, I am flattered, but I think you are just teasing me Jaehyun.”

“Believe me, Y/N.” he said, “They told me.”

Confusion and embarrassment washed through Y/N as she processed what she had just heard. Was he angry? Should she apologize? Was it going to change something at work? 

Catching the glimpse of concern in her eyes, he answered her muted questions, “Don’t worry my love, I am not mad. In fact, I understand them very much.”

His lips went back to her chest, as he began peppering kisses along her breasts and belly, and Y/N tried to push the thought of her husband’s colleagues being attracted to her to the side and focus on his touch. 

“Jaehyun, we should go to the bedroom.” Y/N sighed, her breathing already unsteady. 

Jaehyun’s hand reached to her chest and took her breasts out of her bra’s cups. “I am too impatient for that Y/N.” He began to suck on one of her breasts and fumble the other, making her shiver and whine under him. “Please, let’s do it here.” 

When she gave him her agreement, chuckling about how adventurous he was being tonight, his fingers travelled between her legs and he began to touch her through her underwear. 

As his fingers continued their ministrations, Y/N threw her head back and started to thrust her hips thoughtlessly, moaning the name of her lover over and over.

Jaehyun got up on his knees, unbuttoned his shirt and Y/N ran the tip of her fingers on his chest and arms as he dropped the fabric. She gave little pecks on his shoulders as he fumbled with his belt, to take off his pants. Eventually, he succeeded and got out of his trousers. Jaehyun slid Y/N’s panties down her legs and placed his body between them. 

One of his hands, next to Y/N’s head, steadied him, while the other held one of her thighs. Y/N gripped the sofa’s cushions as Jaehyun entered her heat, a long moan resounding. She gritted her teeth and they both waited for the uneasy feeling of stretching to disappear. Jaehyun stroked her cheek affectionately, as he peppered kisses on her face to ease her through the pain. 

When pleasure got the better of discomfort, Y/N gave a nod of her head to her husband and he began to thrust into her. 

Y/N whined and Jaehyun bit his lip, he was always reluctant to be noisy when they slept together. He started off slow at first, but his speed gradually increased and he took hold of both of her thighs to hit deeper. Pleasure rushed to his head and he began to hit harder.

“Jaehyun, it’s- it’s too much! Slow down!” Y/N cried out. 

He stopped his movements, realizing he had been lost in the euphoria of the moment and had gone too far. He cradled his wife’s face in his hands and peppered kisses on it. “I am deeply sorry darling, I- you feel too good…” 

“It’s okay, just… keep moving..” Y/N said before giving him a kiss.

Jaehyun resumed his thrusts and watched Y/N’s chest rise from the sofa, as her back arched, with self-sufficiency. His muffled groans also grew louder, and it was becoming more and more difficult to keep quiet. 

Y/N was overwhelmed with the pleasure he was providing her, and her moans grew louder and louder. She felt the coil in her belly tighten and Jaehyun’s movements became sloppy and uneven. Her grip on his neck tightened, and her nails, planting onto his flesh, would certainly leave marks in the morning that would stay for a few days. 

Y/N’s eyes teared up, as a wave of pleasure washed through her and they both came together. With a low groan, Jaehyun embraced her and released his load in a final thrust. Y/N snuggled in his hug as heat filled her up, and she felt all of his love wrap around her.  

Jaehyun had come inside, but he and Y/N were still trying for a baby after all.

[ktwritesstuff]

The Babysitter (a Last of Us fanfic) pt. 2

Title: The Babysitter Fandom: The Last of Us Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: ~3,500 Summary: Outbreak day and adventures in babysitting. Lovingly beta-read by @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut

Part 1 | Part 2 (below cut) | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Content Notes & Warnings: Man, oh, man, the Last of Us girlies are thirsty! This part follows the game/show fairly closely so there shouldn't be too many surprises. Just to forewarn you, this chapter includes a teenager fantasizing about a grown ass man (explicit, but short,) canon violence, & character death.

Austin 2003

You usually didn’t get into the school spirit, especially when it came to football.  You played in the marching band at halftime, but weren’t usually invited to the afterparties.  It was your senior year and the Bulldogs were headed to the playoffs for the first time in over a decade. So when your best friend invited you to a celebratory bonfire after the game, you figured it was probably the last chance you had to make fond memories of the place.

You drank a few beers while Cheryl and her boyfriend made out on the blanket next to you and listened to Mike Zurowski try to give an inspiring speech about how they would dominate the state championship.  But after the first string running back took off his pants and streaked across the highway you decided you’d better leave before someone called the cops.  You were just heading out when your phone rang.  It was Joel Miller.  You felt butterflies in your chest, wondering why he would call you so late.  

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sweetpea,  It’s Joel.  I didn’t wake you, did I?” he sounded tired.

“No,” you said.  “We were out celebrating the big game.  I was just heading home.  What’s up?”

“Listen, I’m sorry to call so late,” he explained.  “I’ve got to go see Tommy–is there any chance you could come keep an eye on Sarah?  She’s already in bed, I just don’t want her waking up in an empty house.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said.  Of course it was for Sarah, it was the only thing that made any sense.  

“Give me about 10 minutes. I’ll have Andy and Cheryl to drop me off.”

“You’re an angel,” Joel sighed.  

“I’ll see you soon.”

The short drive was surprisingly harrowing; you nearly got pancaked by a fleet of firetrucks and emergency vehicles.  You guessed some folks had partied a little too hard.  

Joel already had his keys in hand as Andy dropped you at the curb.  Thankfully, he seemed to be in too much of a hurry to notice you still reeked of Lone Star beer, despite the mints Andy kept stashed in his glove compartment.  

“Thanks again,” Joel said, meeting you at the door.  “Be sure to lock up behind me.  Make yourself at home; help yourself to anything in the fridge.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“Sure thing, Mr. Joel,”  you said.  “Drive safe; I think the drunks are out.”  

You went to the kitchen and checked the fridge.  You contemplated helping yourself to another beer, but decided against it.  The Millers didn’t drink soda, but they always kept a few cans of Diet Coke on hand for you.  You took a seat on the couch and turned on the television.  

About half an hour into reruns of Dawson’s Creek, a car alarm started going off.  You ignored it at first, but it just kept going.  Finally you switched off the television and turned to peer through the blinds onto the street.

“What the hell is going on out there?” You murmured to yourself; finally the alarm went silent. 

You climbed the stairs in the darkened house to check on Sarah, cracking her door open just enough to find her sleeping soundly in the bed.  You closed the door softly.  Your gaze drifted down the hall, lingering on the door to Joel’s room.  A little voice in the back of your mind told you to turn around and go back downstairs, but he had told you to make yourself at home.

You tiptoed down the hall and put your hand on the knob, turning it slowly.  The door creaked on its hinges as you pushed it open.  You froze, listening intently, but all you could hear was a neighbor’s dog barking in the distance.  Your heart was pounding as you stepped into the room.  

There was an exercise bike in the corner, a full laundry basket with used towels and worn clothes spilling on the floor.  You had never been in a man’s room before.  Even at home, your mother devoted considerable effort to cleaning up after your father and brother.  You noticed a framed picture of Sarah on the cluttered dresser along with an oscillating fan and radio.  The bed was unmade, a striped quilt and dark sheets looking comfortably rumpled and inviting.  You took a seat on the bed, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips.  Against your better judgment, you laid down.

The bed smelled faintly of sweat and old spice.  You closed your eyes and rolled over, pressing your face into one of the pillows.  You liked the idea of sharing Joel’s bed.  Not now, but in a few years.  You’d be 22 when Sarah graduated from high school, Joel would still be in his early 40s.  That wasn’t so unthinkable, was it?

A weight settled onto the bed beside you, warm and firm.  A soft whisper of a moan by your ear.  Your right hand followed the path of his as it snaked over your waist and between your legs.  You reached behind you with your left, fingers twisting in thick curls.  His breath was warm and his beard tickled the delicate skin of your neck as he kissed you.  You felt safe.  You felt peaceful.  You felt loved.

You leaned into him as his mouth traveled across your shoulder and down to the top of your breast.  You opened your legs so he could slip inside you, fingers stroking through your hot folds up and down and up and down as hips rocked into you.  You felt a knot tightening in your belly.  You wanted to feel him there.  You pressed back into him.  Your toes curled.  You were so close; you were already so full of him, but you needed more.  Just a little more.

You jolted out of sleep at the sound of the front door opening.  Your face felt hot and flushed with sleep with one hand stuffed down the front of your jeans–how embarrassing.  You pushed yourself up and glanced at the clock on the bedside table.  It was after 2 in the morning.  You had no idea what had kept Joel out so late, but you did not want him catching you in his bed with your hand down your pants.  You jumped up, re-ruffling the sheets as quickly and quietly as you could before slipping out of the bedroom.

In the hall, Sarah’s bedroom door was open and her bed was empty.  From the top of the stairs you could see the front door had been left hanging open as well.

“Shit,” you gasped, pounding down the stairs.  “Fuck!  Shit.  Sarah!  Sarah!”

You spotted her in the neighbor’s yard, dragging their dog toward the house by the collar.  It was fighting her hard, like it didn’t want to go.  

“Sarah!” you screamed.  Your heart pounded as you ran to her.  “What the hell are you doing?!”

The dog finally managed to slip its collar and took off down the street.  

“Mercy!” Sarah yelled, lunging after the dog.  “Mercy got out.”

You grabbed Sarah by the arm, harder than you intended.  As you stood there on the dark street, there was a deafening roar.  You looked up to see a plane flying low, too low.  A wave of icy dread washed over you.  

“Leave it!  Get back in the house!” you yelled, pushing her in front of you as you rushed back to the house.  “Now!”

Once you were inside and had locked the door, you took a breath.  Sarah rubbed her arm with a frown.  You felt terrible, realizing you had really scared her.

“I’m sorry,” you said.  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I didn’t mean to yell.  I just got scared.”

“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked.   “Where’s my dad?” 

“He had to see your Uncle Tommy,” you explained.  “He didn’t tell me why, but he asked me to come keep an eye on you.”

Sarah went to the living room and grabbed the remote from the coffee table to flip on the television.  The station that had been playing reruns earlier was now nothing but static.  She began to scroll through the channels, still nothing.  

You screamed at the sound of a key scraping in the lock and threw your arms around Sarah.  The front door swung open, Joel and Tommy were on the other side.

“Jesus, you girls alright?” Joel asked.

“We’re fine,” Sarah sighed in relief.  “You just startled us.”    

“What’s going on?” you asked.  

“There’s been an accident,” Joel said, breathlessly, pushing Sarah up the stairs.  “Tommy’s going to take you home.  Sarah, go get your backpack, come on.”     

You remembered the morning of September 11th–sitting in the auditorium as the kids with parents at Camp Mambry got called out of the room–all the teachers would say was there had been an accident, a plane crash.   

You watched with increasing anxiety as Joel disappeared up the stairs with Sarah.  No more discussion.

“Come on,” Tommy said, ushering you out of the house.  “We gotta go.”

You had met Tommy only a few times, but you knew him by reputation.  He had served in the Gulf War and spent over a year in Afghanistan before an honorable discharge.  Given that he was such a hothead, you sometimes wondered about the honorable part.  

“What’s really going on?” you asked, as he climbed into the cab of the truck beside you.  

“I don’t know,” he said, starting the engine and peeling out of the driveway fast enough that you grabbed on to what your mother referred to as the ‘Oh, Shit’ handle above the door.  Somehow that answer managed to scare you even more.  

“Are we going to be okay?” you asked.  

“You just get inside and lock your doors,” he instructed.  

You thought you heard a scream and turned to look out the rear windshield, straining your eyes in the darkness, but there was nothing.

“You got a basement?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah.”  You met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Get in it,” he instructed.  “You grab whatever food and water you’ve got.  Take your family down there and seal up the windows and doors, you hear me?”

You nodded.  You were shaking.  Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you wiped them away with the cuffs of your sleeves.  You felt like you were going to be sick.  Tommy’s driving didn’t help; he took the turn down your street hard enough to slam your body into the passenger side door.  

“If they don’t listen to you, you make them listen,” Tommy warned.  “Or leave them.”

You nodded.  Tommy pulled into your driveway, slamming on the breaks just shy of running into the back of Paul’s Jeep.

“Get your keys out now,” Tommy instructed, he flipped on the overhead light as you fumbled through your purse with shaking hands.  “Get inside, quick.”

You sprinted up the stone path and steps to the door.  The porch light was off and you scrambled to get the key in the lock.  After a few seconds the door finally swung open and you glanced over your shoulder to see that Tommy was still parked in the drive.

As you turned back, you realized Paul was standing in the hallway, but he didn’t look right–his head cocked to one side as he watched you.  There was something in his mouth.  He was covered in blood.  It coated his arms and dripped from his chin, staining the white and gold of his football jersey.         

You screamed.  Paul ran at you, slamming into you like a freight train.  You threw your arms in front of your face as he snapped at you like an animal, grabbing for your throat.  You screamed again, trying to fight him off–he grabbed your breasts with both hands, like he wanted to tear them from your body.  You knew you were going to die; you kept fighting anyway.   

There was a deafening bang…

The next thing you were aware of, you were in the bed of Tommy’s truck.  It was dark except for the headlight beams stretching out across a deserted cotton field.  

“She ain’t family.  Doesn’t mean she’s sick; I’m just saying we don’t know.”  

You blinked, willing your eyes to focus.  Tommy and Joel were standing at the tailgate speaking in hushed tones.  Tommy had his rifle in his hands, not aiming it, but still too close for comfort.

“I know,” Joel said.  “But she goes to school with Sarah–been with her all night.  If she’s sick…”

“Sarah,” you started to panic, trying to push yourself up.  Everything hurt; your arms felt like jello.  “Where’s Sarah?”

“Daddy,” a soft voice called from inside the cab of the truck.  

“You stay in the truck, baby,” Joel yelled.  “Don’t come out here.”

You smelled metallic, copper penny.  You were covered in blood.  Whose was it?  Your momma’s?  Daddy’s?  Paul?  Your chest hurt from where he had grabbed you.  He was so strong.  How had you gotten away?  Your eyes drifted back to Tommy’s gun.

“Do it,” you said.  

Joel and Tommy both froze, realizing for the first time that you had been listening.  That you understood they were debating what to do with you.  Paul had tried to kill you; Tommy had killed Paul.  Your parents, you realized, were almost certainly dead.  And whatever happened to them, that was making people go crazy and hurt one another, would happen to you, too.  

“Do it,” you repeated.  You didn’t want to die, but if you were going to hurt someone, maybe even Sarah.

“Please.  I’d do it myself, but I’m scared.” 

“Shit,” Joel sighed, lowering the tailgate of the truck.  “C’mere, Sweetpea.  Come here, let me take a look at you.  You’re gonna be alright.”  

You inched forward on hands and knees.  Joel ran his hands over your arms, your face, your neck, you weren’t sure what he was looking for.  He took an extra moment, adjusting the collar of your shirt to examine the bruises blooming across your chest, probing them with his fingertips.  You realized it was the first time he had touched you, not rough, but insistent, hurried.  

“Open your mouth,” Tommy instructed, shining a flashlight into your face, still holding his rifle in the other hand.

You blinked against the bright light, opening your mouth.

“If she’s got it,” Tommy concluded.  “She doesn’t look like the others.”

“You stay down and hang on,” Joel instructed, slamming the tailgate closed; he and Tommy got back in the truck.  “We’ll head north and cut across toward Barton Creek.”

The road back into town was rough, but once you were back on the main drag things got a lot worse.  Most folks were running and screaming–others had gone violent, feral, grabbing on to whoever they could reach and tearing them apart.

You were terrified that one of them might jump into the bed of the truck.  You grabbed onto the handle of the big toolbox and hunkered down as best you could, squeezing your eyes closed while Tommy struggled to navigate through the chaos.

By some stroke of luck, you were thrown clear of the wreckage when the truck turned over.  You must have had a concussion–you lost consciousness for a moment–your head was screaming but you were alive and as Tommy hauled you up by the collar of your shirt, you were able to get your feet under you and stand.

“Come on, girl,” he said with surprising tenderness.  “You got this.”

Your vision cleared; Joel was digging Sarah out of the wreckage of the truck.  Her ankle had been pinned, probably broken, and wouldn’t bear weight.  You stumbled toward them and ducked under Sarah’s arm to help support her as Tommy went around to the other side of the truck to retrieve his rifle.    

“Look out!” you screamed, watching helplessly.  Tommy dove out of the way as a police cruiser slammed into the overturned truck.  The officer inside slumped over the steering wheel, unmoving.

“Don’t look, baby,” you reached to cover Sarah’s eyes.  “Don’t look.”  You had read how seeing human remains could really mess a person up.  You didn’t have time to wonder how what you had seen tonight would affect you.

“You go!” Tommy called from the other side of the wreckage.  “I’ll find another way through.”

You and Joel started down the sidestreet supporting Sarah’s weight between you.  You turned down the adjoining alley, trying to get away from the crowds and the chaos, and nearly ran straight into more carnage.  Joel froze in place; there on the other side of the alley one of those things–you wondered when they stopped being human–was, well, you could only think to describe it as feeding.  Like a vampire.  You had never really cared for Tom Cruise.  But its victim was still alive.  He saw you, reached out for help with a low moan.

“Here,” you whispered, lifting Sarah’s weight into Joel’s arms, slowly, carefully.  “Here.” 

“Don’t,” Joel hissed back, holding Sarah in his arms like a new bride. 

“Go,” you said, taking another step into the alley.  

You didn’t know what you were going to do, but you had to do something.  If sharing air and close contact with these things is what made you sick, then you were already dead.  But Joel and Sarah still had a chance. 

Then the thing sat up.  You met its eyes and it met yours and you knew whatever it was, it wanted you.  You had fucked up.

“Go!” you called, sprinting back through the alley after Joel and Sarah.  You were just a few feet behind them with the thing closing in fast.

You did have one advantage that perhaps even Joel or Tommy did not.  Like every girl you knew, you had devoted a considerable amount of your brain power every day to planning what you would do if there were a predator after you.  

You followed Joel through the back door of an abandoned bar, pushing tables and tearing down stools into the path behind you as you went.  The thing stumbled and clawed its way through–one leg jutting out at a sickening angle, but it still kept coming impossibly fast and unfeeling.

As you followed Joel’s path through the kitchen you used the extra seconds you had bought to push the standing cooler in front of the swinging door.  It took all of your might–adrenaline flooding your body.  But as you raced from the kitchen, you could hear the thing forcing its way through your blockade.

You heard a shot, staring down the road at a humvee and a soldier, but even with the thing chasing you clearly dead, he didn’t lower his gun.       

“Take her,” Joel said, handing Sarah off to you.  “Stay behind me.”  

You lifted Sarah, she was too big to be carried like a child, but you cradled her with her legs looped around your waist, covering her head with one hand.

“What about Uncle Tommy,” Sarah said.  

“He’ll be fine,” you said.  “We’ll go back for him.”

The soldier was talking on his radio, you strained to listen, but your hearing hadn’t recovered from all the gunfire.  Then the soldier was lifting his gun.

“Run!”  Joel shouted.  “Run!”

He was turning toward you and you turned to run, but then you heard the shots.  Joel slammed into your back.  You tried to hold on to Sarah, but you fell–all the wind knocked out of you–rolling down the hillside.

You pushed yourself up from where you had landed on your belly.  You saw Sarah on the ground a few feet away, a dark stain spreading across the front of her shirt.

“No,” you chanted, scrambling toward her on hands and knees.  “No, Sarah.”  

Sarah moaned as you drew her head into your lap and pressed your hands into her belly.

“I have to,” you cried, pressing down hard.  “I’m sorry.  I have to.”

You didn’t even notice the soldier had followed you to finish the job until you heard the second shot and saw Tommy standing beside Joel with the rifle, the dead man at his feet.

Then they saw you, struggling to keep Sarah’s blood inside her.  Joel lunged at you, pushing you off her.  Sarah cried in pain as he tried to lift her.  You watched as life drained out of her and she went limp in his arms.  You felt cold.  You felt sick.  You felt numb.  

“You’re hit,” Tommy said, kneeling down beside you.  You didn’t know what he meant until he pressed his hand into your shoulder and searing pain ripped through your body.