#but they are alive and all have names. the two closest to her face are babies :-]

[ratgingi]

another nonfandom oc falls victim to the dialed town beam. everyone say hi to felicity, shes like if government spy drone pigeons were a person doing their best

[bethanythebogwitch]

I recently found out a show I liked is 10 years old now so to not be the oldest thing on this blog I'm talking coelacanths for Wet Beast Wednesday. Coelacanths are rare fish famed for being living fossils. While that term is highly misleading, it is true that coelacanths are among the only remaining lobe-fined fish and were thought to have gone extinct millions of years ago before being rediscovered in modern times.

(image id: a wild coelacanth. It is a large, mostly grey fish with splotches of yellowish scales. Its fins are attached to fleshy lobes. It is seen from the side, facing the top right corner of the picture)

Coelacanth fossils had been known since the 1800s and they were believed to have gone extinct in the late Cretaceous period. That was until December 1938, when a museum curator named Marjorie Courtenay-Latimer was informed of an unusual specimen that had been pulled in by local fishermen. After being unable to identify the fish, she contacted a friend, ichthyologist J. L. B. Smith, who told her to preserve the specimen until he could examine it. Upon examining it early next year, he realized it was indeed a coelacanth, confirming that they had survived, undetected, for 66 million years. Note that fishermen living in coelacanth territory were already aware of the fish before they were formally described by science. Coelacanths are among the most famous examples of a lazarus taxon. This term, in the context of ecology and conservation, means a species or population that is believed to have gone extinct but is later discovered to still be alive. While coelacanths are among the oldest living lazarus taxa, they aren't the oldest. They are beaten out by a genus of fly (100 million years old) and a type of mollusk (over 300 million years old).

(image: a coelacanth fossil. It is a dark brown imprint of a coelacanth on white rock. Its skeleton is visible in the imprint)

Coelacanths are one of only two surviving groups of lobe-finned fish along with the lungfishes. Lobe-finned fish are bony fish notable for their fins being attached to muscular lobes. By contrast, ray-finned fish (AKA pretty much every fish you've ever heard of that isn't a shark) have their fins attached directly to the body. That may not sound like a big difference, but it actually is. The lobes of lobe-finned fish eventually evolved into the first vertebrate limbs. That makes lobe-finned fish the ancestors of all reptiles, amphibians, and mammals, including you. In fact, you are more closely related to a coelacanth than a coelacanth is to a tuna. Coelacanths were thought to be the closest living link to tetrapods, but genetic testing has shown that lungfish are actually closer to the ancestor of tetrapods.

(image id: a scientific diagram depicting the taxonomic relationships of early lobe-finned fish showing their evolution to proto-tetrapods like Tiktaalik and Ichthyostega, to true tetrapods. Source)

There are two known living coelacanth species: the west Indian ocean coelacanth (Latimeria chalumnae) and the Indonesian coelacanth (L. menadoensis). Both are very large fish, capable of exceeding 2 m (6.6 ft) in length and 90 kg (200 lbs). Their wikipedia page describes them as "plump", which seems a little judgmental to me. Their tails are unique, consisting of two lobes above and below the end of the tail, which has its own fin. Their scales are very hard and thick, acting like armor. The mouth is small, but a hinge in its skull, not found in any other animal, allows the mouth to open extremely wide for its size. In addition, they lack a maxilla (upper jawbone), instead using specialized tissue in its place. They lack backbones, instead having an oil-filled notochord that serve the same function. The presence of a notochord is the key characteristic of being a chordate, but most vertebrates only have one in embryo, after which it is replaced by a backbone. Instead of a swim bladder, coelacanths have a vestigial lung filled with fatty tissue that serves the same purpose. In addition to the lung, another fatty organ also helps control buoyancy. The fatty organ is large enough that it forced the kidneys to move backwards and fuse into one organ. Coelacanths have tiny brains. Only about 15% of the skull cavity is filled by the brain, the rest is filled with fat.

(image id: a coalacanth. It is similar to the one on the above image, but this one is blue in color and the head is seen more clearly, showing an open mouth and large eye)

One of the reasons it took so long for coelacanths to be rediscovered is their habitat. They prefer to live in deeper waters in the twilight zone, between 150 and 250 meters deep. They are also nocturnal and spend the day either in underwater caves or swimming down into deeper water. They typically stay in deeper water or caves during the day as colder water keeps their metabolism low and conserves energy. While they do not appear to be social animals, coelacanths are tolerant of each other's presence and the caves they stay in may be packed to the brim during the day. Coelacanths are all about conserving energy even when looking for food. They are drift feeders, moving slowly with the currents and eating whatever they come across. Their diet primarily consists of fish and squid. Not much is known about how they catch their prey, but they are capable of rapid bursts of speed that may be used to catch prey and is definitely used to escape predators. They are believed to be capable of electroreception, which is likely used to locate prey and avoid obstacles. Coelacanths swim differently than other fish. They use their lobe fins like limbs to stabilize their movements as they drift. This means that while coelacanths are slow, they are very maneuverable. Some have even been seen swimming upside-down or with their heads pointed down.

(image: an underwater cave wilt multiple coelacanths residing in it. 5 are clearly visible, with the fins of others showing from offscreen)

Coelacanths are a vary race example of bony fish that give live birth. They are ovoviviparous, meaning the egg is retained and hatches inside the mother. Gestation can take between 2 and 5 years (estimates differ) and multiple offspring are born at a time. It is possible that females may only mate with a single male at a time, though this is not confirmed. Coelacanths can live over 100 years and do not reach full maturity until age 55. This very slow reproduction and maturation rate likely contributes to the rarity of the fish.

(image: a juvenile coelacanth. Its body shape is the same as those of adults, but with proportionately larger fins. There are green laser beams shining on it. These are used by submersibles to calculate the size of animals and objects)

Coelacanths are often described as living fossils. This term refers to species that are still similar to their ancient ancestors. The term is losing favor amongst biologists due to how misleading it can be. The term os often understood to mean that modern species are exactly the same as ancient ones. This is not the case. Living coelacanth are now known to be different than those who existed during the Cretaceous, let alone the older fossil species. Living fossils often live in very stable environments that result in low selective pressure, but they are still evolving, just slower.

(image: a coelacanth swimming next to a SCUBA diver)

Because of the rarity of coelacanths, it's hard to figure out what conservation needs they have. The IUCN currently classifies the west Indian ocean coelacanth as critically endangered (with an estimated population of less than 500) and the Indonesian coelacanth as vulnerable. Their main threat is bycatch, when they are caught in nets intended for other species. They aren't fished commercially as their meat is very unappetizing, but getting caught in nets is still very dangerous and their slow reproduction and maturation means that it is long and difficult to replace population losses. There is an international organization, the Coelacanth Conservation Council, dedicated to coelacanth conservation and preservation.

(image: a coelacanth facing the camera. The shape of its mouth makes it look as though it is smiling)

[robin374]

𝔊𝔢𝔱 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔪𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯 : Alastor x Reader, platonic

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰: I AM SO SORRY I GOT TOO CARRIED AWAY SORRY

Months passed by and you found yourself to enjoy their company. Alastor happened to be very close to you, he had been alive at the same time as you! You both talked quite a lot about the old times, well, it was more Alastor talking to you while you nodded and added a comment or two to his monologue. One time, he managed to get you to smile. He felt really proud of himself, he didn't tell you yet, but he did recognize you. He couldn't forget his daughter's eyes after all those decades. It was painful for him to see you so broken. He felt angry. He knew that your mother didn't want you to exist, to be born, but he would strangely feel guilty if he killed you. Just if he had taken you before the nun opened the door, he would've raised you as his daughter. After talking to Charlie and Husk about it, he decided to tell the truth.

You were reading next to Sir Pentious, the egg boys were bothering you too much, so you were subtly kicking them with your feet. Alastor approached you and asked to talk with you privately. He had all planned in his mind. He started telling you about his past, about how he was a radio host. "And tell me, sweetheart, do you remember your parents' names? Maybe I knew them." He noticed the annoyed twitch you eyelid did when he indirectly mentioned himself. You had grown up just like him. "I never met them." You murmured, you didn't know why you were telling him that. "Not that you care." Now his smile almost broke. "Of course I care", he leaned down to your eye level and placed a hand on your shoulder. "You're my daughter, after all."

Impossible. You didn't hear what you just heard, right? The man that you always hated was in front of you. The man you promised to never talk to if you met him was one of your closests friends. You shoved his hand away, "It's a joke, right? You're not him. You're nicer, you protect me, you... You can't be him." He was still smiling, was this funny to him? Your broken voice was funny? Your tears were funny? Your betrayed gaze was funny? Absolutely not. "You wouldn't abandon me, Alastor. Please... Tell me that this is a joke." You started to step back from him, getting yourself more and more away as his words sunk in your skin.

"It's not a joke." His voice was broken as well, the sound of the radio static grew more, making you feel anxious. You felt betrayed. "Why?" You asked, it was the only thing you wanted to know. He didn't seem to catch it as his head tilted, "Why did you abandon me? Why didn't you kill me? Why did you leave to live a life full of misery and suffering? You don't know how much I suffered." You looked him in the eye, you were furious, you just gave up all the emotions you bottled up for decades. "I hated you and I hate you! You're just a liar," He stepped towards you and tried to speak, but you interrupted him, his ears curved downwards emphasizing his sadness. However, what hurt you most was his smile. That hypocrite was still smiling. "Get away from me," you stated your voice was rough, all those venomous words stabbed his heart. "You're a coward, do not talk to me ever again. You're not my father, I hate you." You turned around and walked away from him. "You should've had kill me, it would have made me happier."

Suddenly, he was human again. It was raining again and he was watching you cry in front of the church's door. Your mother had left a while ago, her statement of leaving you alone and not rescuing you was still echoing in his head. His clothes were wet, the rain stained his face as his tears mixed with the drops. Once in his life, he regretted his decisions. He should have rescued you. 

[totaly-obsessed]

Rory

Leah Williamson x reader

-> A teenage squabble over a plant turns into a heartwarming symbol of family as two best friends prepare to embark on the journey of motherhood together.

-> Happy (a little late) Birthday @alotofpockets!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“What the fuck is that?”

“Leah Williamson, Language! Or I will call Amanda!” Your mum’s voice was shrill as she scolded a thirteen-year-old Leah for her cursing. Leah just had a smug smirk on her face, she got her potty mouth from her mum, who always acted outraged when her eldest swore in front of other people.

“That is my favorite plant, Lee! My sister gave it to me.”

Your best friend didn’t even have the audacity to look guilty or lie. “Well that’s fucking hideous thing, I’ll tell you that.”

“Leah!” Oh shit. She just got first-named.

“W- Well you can’t tell me that’s a pretty plant! What is it even called? Tree Tumbo?

Now that she saw the tears brimming your eyes she knew she had fucked up. Her hand that had flown, trying to defend herself slowly sank.

“No, it’s called Dracaena. But I named it Rory, short for Aurora.”

Just last week Leah and you had talked about names for future children, or rather your future children. The blonde was already sure that she liked girls, so kids were out of sight for now. Aurora was a name that stuck with her though, and you had promised to name your first kid Aurora if your husband would agree.

“Oh… Darling, I’m so so-”

“I think you should go home now.” Your teary eyes nearly killed the teen, but with one last kiss on your forehead, she left the room, saying goodbye to your very confused mother.

—

“No way.”

“Yes, Leah! I am not leaving her behind!”

The blonde defender tried to barricade the door and deny you access, but with just a gentle nudge she moved, even picking up the heavy plant for you.

“I can’t believe you’re taking that fucking thing with you.”

After that eventful first day of having Rory, Leah had properly apologized with chocolate, flowers, and a hand-knitted little sweater for a plant pot. She obviously didn't make it herself. God, that would have been a disaster. Her Granny, Berny, had made it for her.

“Well she’s my daughter and as long as I am alive I will take her with me. Either deal with it or go.”

Leah was stunned standing in the hallways “OH! You wouldn’t dare, darling! What would you do without me? Who carries the grocery bags for you?”

“You haven’t carried anything yet!”

The two of you had just signed your first senior contract with Arsenal for a year - and to live closer to the facilities you were moving into a house with Emma Mitchell and Emma Byrne. Both of them were experienced players and filled with excitement they had agreed to take two young talents in.

But seeing you call a plant your daughter, and Leah hating it with such passion surely was a sight to see and just a teaser for the coming year.

—

“You can’t be serious?”

Leah had been busy over the day, doing media stuff. So with having the new house all to yourself, you brought Rory back in, much to your girlfriend's demise.

She had just re-signed her arsenal contract for the foreseeable future while you had signed with the London City Lionesses last year, working part-time as a librarian at your closest school - a dream of yours.

After multiple failed relationships with men, you had come to the realization that the real thing was right in front of you, in the form of your best friend.

Now you had moved out of the old, small apartment into your very own first home, and Leah apparently liked to ignore the time plans you had made. So now you stood there, Rory still in your hands as your girlfriend got out of the car.

“I thought we talked about this Darling!”

Quickly she had walked over, taking the now huge plant out of your hands, and carried it into the house.

“Where do you want it then?”

She already knew that you couldn’t leave Rory behind, you had looked so sad when you promised her not to take the Dracaena with you.

“Next to the couch please!”

“Of course darling…”

—

The nerves picked at you as you made a little sign with ‘big sister’ on it. It shouldn’t be that much of a surprise to Leah that you are pregnant, the road here was long after all. But you would never know.

Rory would officially be a big sister in the making, in just a few more months, and then a little baby would share the place with your loved plant.

After leaning the sign next to the ultrasound and the pregnancy test you sat back down at the dining table, now you just needed to wait until your wife was home.

It was as if you were in a trance, looking at your book but not actually taking anything in from it when the blonde entered your home.

“I’m home darling!” Her first act of service once entering was greeting you with a kiss - but she was a little taken aback by your nervous expression. You had been home the entire day, what could have happened?

“I’m gonna shower, my love. I’ll leave the door open for ya!”

Hastily you stood up, pulling Leah back by her arm, ignoring the cocky smirk on her beautiful face. “Can you water Rory please?”

Her nose scrunched up in confusion. You, letting her near your beloved plant? unheard of, but she’d take it any day if it would make you happy.

“Yeah! Sure!"

Your wife nearly skipped through the living room, a half-full watering can in one hand, a müsli riegel in the other. 

“How much does she need?”

No answer.

“Darling, What’s up? You’ve been we- Oh.”

She saw it.

the watering can and food forgotten she picked up the hints you had positioned, looking at the positive test and the picture.

“It worked! We’re gonna be mothers!”

[lina-lovebug]

You Are Mine

Na'vi! Quaritch x fem! Na'vi! Reader

All sentences in italics are the Na'vi language.

Background: Reader was kidnapped along with the kids and is Neytiri older sister. Quaritch wouldn't let her escape and became his direct line into the world of Pandora.

_

You still couldn't believe it. That monster, that bastard, was somehow alive. And when he dared to lay hands on the kids, you made sure he would have a reminder of what pain he would experience the next time that happened.

You bit his neck. Hard.

"You do this with all your partners, sweetheart?" Quaritch smirked at you, the blood gone but the marks of your fangs still scarred onto his skin.

I hissed in retaliation, a reminder that I was not to be tamed.

"Leave her alone!" Spider hissed, protective over his aunt. You adored Spider and saw him as your son.

I never got the chance to make a bond. Despite my parents' best efforts to pair me with Tsu'tey, you wanted to bond for the sake of love and trust. And I knew well that Tsu'tey did not love me, so I was seen as a lone Na'vi.

"Do they hurt?" Spider questioned, referring to the restraints on my wrists and ankles.

"I am fine, do not worry about me. Besides, this sky bastard would not know a woman's touch if it was shoved up his ass," I smirked and Spider laughed.

"What? What's so damn funny?" Quaritch questioned.

"Stupid oaf," I giggled, knowing he couldn't understand shit.

"It was nothing," Spider insisted.

"Tch," He walked away, leaving you and Spider.

Quaritch hated to admit it, but you were a damn beauty. He remembered you vaguely from his human memories, seeing you land on his ship and fire two arrows straight at two pilots. The fear he felt knowing you could have pulled out one more and struck him, but didn't and left. A fierce Na'vi warrior who was strong and willing to kill for her people, plus the looks were an added bonus.

"What do we know about her?"

"Her name is (Y/N), she's the daughter of the previous leader of the Omaticaya, Eytucan and the Tsahik, Mo'at. Her mother and sister, Neytiri, are her only living relatives-"

"So she's Mrs. Sullys' sister?" Quaritch chuckled and looked back at you, who was staring out at the forest.

He could have guessed, judging by the similar faces, but you were taller and much more. . .up close than Neytiri. Sure, Neytiri literally got the closest you can be by killing him, but you were his captive.

Meaning he could get information from you.

_

"So you are Neytiris' sister. Could have guessed from the mark you gave me," Quaritch approached me in my cell, shutting the door behind him. My tail flicked, in tune with my nerves, as I only stared at him.

"Much prettier, I will admit," He sat down next to me, to which I scooted away and kept a sharp gaze on him.

And did not respond.

"So sorry about your father. My condolences. I did not mean to cause such harm," My chest rose higher, feeling angry that he thought he could even speak of my father.

But still, I stayed silent.

"You're pretty close with my son. Did you raise him?" He crossed his arms together, but my eyes traveled to his neck. When his comrades tore me away, my fangs dragged and tore the skin open.

"Do you even speak Engli-"

"Your language was too easy for me. It shows just how intelligent your species are," I responded in perfect English.

"Why tha-"

"It was not a compliment," I cut him off, my stare deadly and my lips in a firm line.

"And Spider is not your son," I knew Spider, and he was the kindest soul. He wanted so badly to be Na'vi, but he had a human body. It did not discourage him and that is why I was proud to call him my own.

"So you did raise him then. You taught him the language?"

"Rather mine than yours," I retorted.

"I'll take that as a yes. Look, I'm hopeless with this stuff, and in order to better connect with him," He got closer.

"I would like you to teach me. I want to bond with him - the way we were meant to. Could you help me with that, sweetheart?" His hand went to grab my hair, and my hands went to grab his wrist and restrain him.

But he did so to me.

My shackled hands fell against the wall, and he stared down at me. His hand grabbed my chains and pushed them upwards, against the wall.

I hissed, bearing my fangs but all he did was chuckle.

"I can do this all day, sweetheart. I won't let them torture you, as a thank you for raising my son, but," He moved his face closer to my own.

"Don't think for a second that you're getting out of here."

_

It had been three months and he still spoke like a baby.

"Nari!"

"Narni."

"No!" My hand went up to smack his forehead and he grabbed my wrist, frustrated.

"This is stupid. I'm clearly saying it right!"

"No, you are not," I expressed. We had these lessons twice a day in my prison, and as a reward, he would let me out for a day. I still had my ankle shackles on but it felt nice to move around.

"As much as I would love to agree and get you out of my sight-"

"Aw c'mon, sweetheart, you don't mean that," He expressed, his hand still around my wrist.

"I ain't that bad to look at," And his teeth grazed my wrist, over my veins and his eyes. . .oh great mother, his eyes looked at me in such a way only mated pairs should.

"You-You-"

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Tch," I tore my wrist away, "your behavior is very inappropriate. Only mated pairs should look at each other like that."

"Mated pairs?" I sighed at his question.

"When a woman chooses her man, and he in return, they then bond and become Mated for life," It was a simple yet perfect way of life. That is all you wished for yourself and any other Na'vi.

"You don't fool around? Have a taste of anyone else?"

"Your culture seems to think that is all love is, but you are wrong. You know when you have found your mate, and it is like no other feeling. You will do anything for your mate and your children. Na'vi women are noted to become feral when their child is in danger and are considered the most dangerous creature," You saw now Neytiri loved her children and even when they had the smallest scratch, she became so protective of them.

"How do you guys mate? Just attach your braid things?" He was genuinely curious and it made me smile, but not enough for him to notice.

"Guess you're a happy woman then," He was a bit bummed, as you were beautiful, and your spirit is strong.

"I am not mated. Many men were killed the last you were here," I admitted, the fall of my people still bringing a light mist to my eyes. Many friends, and even my own father - all lost but never forgotten. They were all with Eywa now.

"You have sex," I stated bluntly, "and you share your memories."

"Hmm. . .good to know," I watched as he got up and made his way to the door.

"Oh, and (Y/N)? I was checking your pulse. You do find me attractive," He chuckled, leaving as I recalled his fangs grazing over my veins and my cheeks flared.

"As if, you bastard!"

_

"Can you look away?"

"And let you escape? I'm not that fucking stupid."

I rolled my eyes at my captors, who were allowing me to bathe in the natural spring waters because I did not like their mechanical baths.

I moved further into the water, making sure my body was covered. Only my eyes were up above as I moved behind the waterfall, and I caught Miles Quaritchs gaze as I disappeared.

The cool water brought a smile to my face as I bathed, using soap we made from the land and relishing in the cleanliness.

"Having fun?"

I gasped, dipping back down into the water as I saw Miles Quaritch move his body into the waterfall, his shirt off.

"Don't worry, I covered my eyes, sweetheart. Just making sure you aren't running away," He said, averting his gaze.

But mine lingered.

It was shameful, for sure, but my eyes lingered on the water droplets that traveled over every muscle of his chest.

"Why did you hate us?" I asked quietly, and he looked at me.

"Why did you come here?" And kill so many.

He let out a sigh of sadness, like he himself did not know.

"I know my memories say that it was for money. I could see through his eyes that all he saw were disgusting creatures in the way of his goals," He seemed ashamed, like he didn't want to be that man but his memories and name force him to remain that same person.

"Do you hate me?" I asked, my body fully out of the water but his eyes did not trail my body. His eyes remained on mine, and his gentle hand came up to my chin.

"Never, sweetheart."

_

I knew I was in deep trouble. The many times Miles Quaritch came to visit me, and the many times I got to know him - he was a changed man. I could see it in his spirit. He came to adore my planet and our ways, but those around him would not allow him to fully embrace it. It would mean he would abandon his mission, and they would kill him for it.

Which is why I was unsure of my own heart.

I was his prisoner. I was his captive, and yet I felt my heart race anytime he looked at me.

Neytiri would be disappointed in me.

Father would be disappointed in me.

Mother would not be able to stand the sight of me.

Which is why I was crying.

It was late and all were asleep, so I sat in my corner and wept. I had fallen for such a cruel man who killed hundreds of my people, and why? Why did I choose him? Because he might have changed? I did not understand.

"(Y/N)? Are you crying?" Once I heard his hushed voice, I wiped my tears away. The lights remained off, but we could see each other as our bodies gave off the bioluminescent glow.

"Go away, Quaritch."

"If you need anything, you can ask-"

"I do not want anything from you. I want to go home," I hissed, trying to move the focus from my tears.

"I. . .you know I can't let you do that," He sighed, conflicted with himself.

"I do not understand," I whispered, and he grabbed my chin and had me look up at him.

"Understand what?"

"My heart," I admitted, "it wages war with itself."

"Why?"

"You have a strong spirit and a kind heart, and you are not the same man you were once were. . .but I do not understand why my own heart is intertwined with yours," I confessed, and his hand on my chin relaxed and he looked shocked.

"Neytiri will hate me," The thought of my own sister shaming me and looking at me with great hatred made me hate myself.

"Don't say that."

"As much as I yearn for you, that does not erase the things you have done," He held me against him as I wept. My nails dug so deep into the fabric of his shirt that it left holes.

"I wish I stayed dead," He admitted.

"Then maybe I wouldn't see so many Na'vi who despise me. I wouldn't fear death every time I saw an arrow. . .but if I stayed dead, I never would have gotten to know you, sweetheart," He confessed, holding my face in his hands.

There did not need to be any other words as he leaned down and captured my lips in his. In this moment, I did not think of how my people would hate me or that my own mother would not love me. I only thought of his soft lips against mine, and how he felt absolutely perfect to me.

[joeloverture]

comeuppance | qz!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog

pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader summary: [post outbreak] when your recklessness causes an arms deal to go south, joel makes sure you regret it. warnings: (18+ mdni) qz!joel, age gap (late 20s/early 50s), written with hbo!joel in mind but with game!joel lore, guns, mentioned executions, misogynistic names outside (and in!) a sexual context, canon-typical violence as in murder (joel kills a soldier 'on-screen'), reader is a little shit but joel is worse, darkish & dubcon, spanking as a punishment, gunplay, attempted boot humping, degradation, humiliation, one kick to the cunt, mean!joel, orgasm denial [no use of y/n] word count: 2.7k a/n: this is my (admittedly late) submission for @iamasaddie's writing challenge 2.0! my prompt was 'you can't hide forever'. the genre was technically dark but joel himself isn't scarily dark here. thank you so much to aly for, once again, bringing this fandom together with her challenges. it's a steep task but she does a great job every time! and even more thanks to @joelsdagger and @lovesickonmybed for helping me brainstorm! (i have half of a brain without my wonderfully creative friends).

It only takes one deal gone south to fuck everything up.

You know the compass is already ticking that way the moment you and Joel, your longtime smuggling partner, enter the abandoned warehouse. Much like everything else in the Boston QZ, it’s falling apart. The corrugated metal walls are pitted with rust, and old blood is caked all over the floors. In another life, it might’ve been a slaughterhouse, but there’s no real way of knowing. It’s been long enough that any signage has deteriorated. The building’s state of decay, however, isn’t what messes things up.

It’s the singular man that walks in from the opposite side of the atrium.

FEDRA’s favorite executioner. Slitted eyes far apart, thinned out lips, and graying black hair. Rarely seen away from the gallows, only recognizable to you from all of the nightmares you’ve had of his face being the last you see.

If it were drugs, you’d think nothing of it. FEDRA soldiers buy quietly from you all of the time – but they have no need for guns that they don’t already have.

Joel steps forward, merchandise in the duffel bag over his shoulder, none the wiser. A knot ties itself in the base of your throat. You’re too busy trying to figure out what to do, what to do, what to do that you barely even realize that the soldier has a gun aimed right between your eyes until you’re looking right down the barrel.

Your hand jerks to your holster, drawing your pistol in one swipe.

“Drop your fucking gun!” he barks in your direction. It clatters out of your hands. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” Your hands fly up as you take a step back, nearly stumbling into a nearby crate. “Joel Miller and his bitch,” the man sneers. “What a lucky find. You two have quite the bounty on your heads.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Joel says, face completely blank.

“Easy for you to say,” the guard says with a nagging smirk. “Your little cunt here already did. Pretty fucking dumb not to check who you’re selling your merchandise to, huh?”

Joel tenses, ultimately huffing through his nose. “Can we get this over with?”

“I’ll make it easy, Miller. Come with me alive so I get paid, or come with me dead so I still get paid.”

Joel’s fingers twitch behind his back, and after almost three years of working with him, it’s impossible not to pick up on the subtext. Keep him busy. His hand is already reaching for the revolver in his back pocket.

“Turn the other way. I can make this worth your time,” you say. “But you’re lucky if those sons of bitches you work for even offer you half the reward they’ve posted for us. Dragging the bodies from Area 5 to the closest checkpoint… you’d have your work cut out for you.”

“Yeah fucking right,” he spits. “You two have been running around free for too damn long. Causing too much trouble. Not anymo–”

The man’s mouth freezes around the words by the time the bullet soars throat the canvas fabric of Joel’s duffel bag and through the man’s jugular. The soldier’s hands claw for his throat while he gargles on the blood as he begins the descent to the ground. New blood, still pumping directionless from the split artery, joins the old.

Much like him, where he’s slumping against the ground, chest moving until the very end, your hands clutch at your own throat. “We need to go,” you say, knowing the rest of FEDRA will come looking for the firefight at any second now. Joel doesn’t move. “Joel!” You reach out to tug his sleeve, but he doesn’t react. “Jesus– move!”

Joel turns to face you, gun still hanging from his hand. His fingers flex around the grip. “What the hell were you thinkin’, little girl?” You can hear his breathing, amplified from how close he is to you. His once inexpressive face is now red, lips curled, skin tight like a crushed soda can. 

“I– what?”

“Not vettin’ your buyers. First fuckin’ thing I told you all them years ago, wasn’t it? Gotta check so you don’t sell shit to the wrong guy, yeah?” He stalks closer to you – you stumble back.

Not vetting the now dead executioner, whose blood is currently creeping up to the soles of your boots. Your mistake, yes, a potentially catastrophic one that you’ll definitely never make again after this, but he’d been on your ass about finding buyers and after an entire day of burning bodies, the last thing you wanted to do was go asking around about the ‘John’ in search of guns that you’d talked to over the radio tower.

“We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Joel finally jerks his sleeve away from your grip. Your hand falls slack by your side, burning from his fire stoker touch. “And you oughta count your fuckin’ blessings for that. Dumbfuck of a girl, gonna get me killed,” he spits. Spittle flies across your neck. 

You flinch – and not because you’re scared. You’ve never seen him like this before. You hear noise in the distance, the moving of FEDRA trucks, no doubt. “Joel! We can do this later – we need to fucking go–”

“Then you better start running,” he says gruffly.

You don’t need to be told twice.

You sprint out of the atrium, cursing as your bloodied soles carve tracks behind you. A stack of crates blocks the door, which you vault over and shimmy your way through the broken glass panel. The hallway ahead of you is dark, and you have no idea where the fuck you’re going, only that you can’t stop. Each impact of your foot on the ground is like being struck by lightning, carbonating the racing blood pumping through your body. More glass crunches behind you, and a shock of terror pierces you when you hear Joel’s snarls filling the corridor.

There’s a metal cart in your way, which you send whirling in Joel’s direction. He grunts, presumably hitting him in the stomach before it goes clattering on the ground. You make the most of the diversion, hurtling forward and lurching through a cracked door.

Dead fucking end.

An office, by the looks of it. Desks all over the place, leftover tasks still pinned on cork boards from outbreak day, chairs on their sides. You hear Joel huffing and puffing behind you, and fear forks through you. You fall to your hands and knees, crawling underneath the labyrinth of desks and tucking yourself against a wall, carpet-burned hand to your mouth to muffle your breathing. Your chest avalanches with every single breath.

“You ain’t off the hook,” Joel says, voice getting closer with every word. You can hear the thump of his boots against the carpet. See the spread of his shadow roaming across the wall. You squint through the seam of two desks. He's looking over his shoulder when you haul yourself across the room to the next closest desk.

You look around for anything that might get you out of this long enough to slip back out of the door. If you can make it back to the apartment, maybe he can cool off on his own walk back. You reach up for a stapler and take a brief second to peek over a filing cabinet before flinging it against the wall. It snaps open, spilling decades old staples all over the floor.

“Only a clicker’s fallin’ for that,” he tuts at you. His boots land on the floor again, one, two, three steps closer to you. You wince, balling your hands into fists. 

All you can hear is the thrashing of your own heart. You scooch away from the desk – maybe if you throw something small at him, like a pack of sticky notes, it’ll be enough to abduct his attention long enough for you to slip by–

“You can’t hide forever,” Joel goddamn coos at you. You see him bending at the waist, scoping out the undersides of desks, seeking you out–

You crawl out from under the desk and book it to the door.

Stupid. Fucking. Idea.

Joel hauls you back by the belt loop, laughing as you cry out. You try squirming away, kicking at him, but his other arm wraps around your torso. It hits you then that you have no idea what he might do to you. You’ve trusted him with your life before, but what would he do when you risked his? You’d always been too scared to find out. He spins you, slamming you over the desk. You cry out as your chest meets the wood. His hand drags your wrists together, pinning them at the small of your back.

“Let me – the fuck– go!” you yell at him, trying to bend your elbow at the right angle to nail him in the chest.

He tightens his grip so much that you can barely move an inch. “Made your fuckin’ bed, gotta lie in it, sweetheart,” he tuts, shaking his head at you. His hand grazes over your ass, and you stiffen as he looms over you. He is just a man. Your mind spins to the worst-case scenario. No, no, no, no–

“How about an… old-fashioned corporal punishment to set ya straight?” Within the next second, he’s yanking your jeans down your thighs.

Oh. Oh fuck.

“Joel–” you exhale, breath shuddery. “Knock it off–”

“No panties? I was gonna be nice and spank ya over them…” Joel frowns at you. “Poor baby. ‘S gonna sting real bad.”

You snap at him, “What, you want me to go to the local QZ Victoria’s Secret?”

Joel swats, hard, across your asscheek.

You’ve seen how intense Joel’s brute strength can be. You’ve just never been on the receiving end of it. A cry pushes out of your throat, and you hunch over the desk as you struggle helplessly against Joel. Tears spring at your eyes.

Mercifully, Joel runs his calloused palm over the smarting skin. “Shh, shh, shh, shh. ‘S okay, Jus’ gotta teach ya a lesson. Make sure it sticks.” He strokes the nape of your neck as you whimper into the desk.

You tense up in preparation for the second hit, but, if anything, it just makes the impact worse. It prickles your other cheek, leaving your knees shaky. And God help you, your clit twitches. Twitches. Your thighs are already heating up, and you can’t help but squirm in a good way underneath Joel. A single tear slips over your waterline, and you have to tilt your head into the shoulder of your shirt to wipe it off. You don’t want him to see you weak – not that weak.

The next spank makes him grunt from how hard he swings his palm into your backside. “Joel!” you shout, pain nearly splitting you in two. Your feet raise off of the ground as you prop yourself up on the desk, kicking uselessly at his shins. All he does is chuckle at you.

Horror sinks like a cinderblock in your stomach when you realize that your hole, leaking slick, is practically fucking winking at him. You thank the darkness. It’s about the only good thing about this place.

“You don’t like that?” he mock-pouts at you. It’s enough to make you throb. The opposite, you’d say if you could.

A series of spanks follows, but at least these are lighter, and in rapid succession. Still, you jerk with each impact, squirming so that your fingers dance in his grip. “Stupid little girl. Thought you could sell our shit to a FEDRA bitch and get off scot-free? Really thought you could get away from me, huh?”

You try clamming up, desperately attempting to close your legs together. You squeeze your thighs together, relieved at the pressure – and then you hear a resounding click behind you.

You still.

Joel’s gun, still fucking hot from the bullet it’d fired right into the executioner’s throat, traces up the small of your back… all the way to your throat. “Could put one right here,” Joel whispers, more to himself than you. “Show ya what happens to girls that don’t follow orders.” He jams it into your skin, and you hiss at the pain, at the bruise it’s sure to leave. And in spite of it all, you fucking gush. God, you’re fucked up.

He wouldn’t kill you – he needs you more than you need him. But common sense isn’t enough to prevent the thrill, the arousal smiting your body from head to toe.

“I’ll reconsider if ya give it a kiss.” He nudges the barrel carefully against your lips and you stop breathing for a second, maybe two. “Go on. Give it some lovin’. Suck it like a cock. I know you’re good at it. Hear all the guys you bring over.”

You whimper at the thought of Joel listening to you getting your hook ups off – at the thought of him fisting his own cock while he listens. Obediently, you part your lips, slowly, ever so slowly, taking the gun down your throat. It fills your mouth up in such a strange way – all hard edges. It’d be freezing cold if not for the fact that it’s a weapon of death, a scythe in its own way. One press of the trigger, and you’d be just like the guard. You suck even harder at it, eyes rolling back in your skull. Your thighs twitch, stripes of slick running down your thighs. 

Joel reaches between your legs, grabbing at the meat of your inner thigh to spread you open. Instead, he gets a handful of the arousal that’s been pooling between your legs since he first bent you over the desk.

You freeze, pausing your ministrations on the pistol. He himself freezes before he drags his hips over your folds. His finger pads hover over your swollen clit before he properly rubs you once, and then twice. Your hips cant into the closest thing – his hand.

Joel makes a disgusted noise and swats your leaking pussy before shoving you forward and stepping back. You’re panting, properly fucked out even though he’d barely touched you. Cross-eyed, tongue hanging out, face hot. He looks you up and down, brows furrowing with revulsion. “Horny fuckin’ bitch. Creamin’ all over me. That long since you got action that a spankin’ and a gun in your mouth is all it takes to get you riled up? Pathetic.” He shoves the gun back in his pocket, still shining with your saliva.

He wipes your wetness all over your leg, grabs the back of your collar, and drags you to the floor in one foul swoop. You fall on your hands and knees again, ass still stinging from his treatment, lightheaded from how needy you are. Even his brutal treatment makes you whimper. 

You reach for his calf, pulling yourself up to brace your dripping cunt against his boot. You rut against it, not even fully cognizant of your movements as you roll your hips, praying that he lets you have this if nothing else. Your orgasm, wetting his boot thoroughly. Your scent, clinging to him on the walk back to the apartment. You buck into the boot, moaning as the toe bumps against your clit. It might be enough, if you could just do it one more time–

Joel tears his shoe out from underneath you, face pinched with aversion. “No!” you cry, still grabbing for his calf. You fall onto your back, legs spread and panting. Your ass needles from his spanking. The ceiling tiles spin above you. 

The same toe you’d been humping kicks into your cunt, and you yelp, curling in on yourself. Another tear slides down your burning cheek as you reach down to cup your sore pussy. Even that pressure feels like touching a live wire. 

Joel looks down at his shining boot and makes a disgusted noise. “Does humiliatin’ yourself always get ya dicked down?” 

He turns around, already walking away from you without a care in the world. The gun grip pokes out of his pocket, taunting you.

“Pull your goddamn pants up and get a move on. Curfew’s soon.”

[animesmolbean]

Words Hold Power

An "The Umbrella Academy" fanfiction

Five x Reader

(Female)

Author's Note: Still no spoilers for S4, please. I'm halfway through my third watch of S1 - S3, which I started before S4 was released.

Hope you enjoy the chapter! ♥️

Chapter 2: We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals (A Funeral and Some Trouble)

The siblings couldn't believe their eyes. Their other sibling had woken up from her coma. She was alive.

Klaus was the first to react, hopping off the table and embracing the girl. “Oh (Your Name)! My precious sister! You're back from the dead!”

(Your Name) chuckled softly behind her face mask and hugged her brother back. She pulled away and signed, “I'm happy to see you too.”

Allison was next, hugging her sister. “Hello, honey. I'm so relieved.” She whispered. (Your Name) hummed happily. “Did you just wake up?” She asked the girl, noticing her pajamas. The girl nodded her head.

Vanya came over shyly. “Hi, (Your Name).” She whispered.

(Your Name) hummed softly but happily and the two sisters hugged gently. “I'm happy you're alive.” She told (Your Name). The masked girl hummed happily again before they pulled away.

“Hello, sis.”

(Your Name) turned to see Diego, giving her a gentle smile. She nodded her head to the man. While she and Diego didn't always agree and weren't the closest, they didn't outright hate each other.

Luther came over after, looking down at the girl. “I'm glad you're awake.” He simply said. He was still shocked over this. Having been here the longest and having reached on her several times, never seeing her move an inch. But, (Your Name) knew he was relieved and she nodded at him again, patting his arm.

But, when she turned her head towards the kitchen table, she felt her heart beat faster. There, she saw Five, face showing slight shock but his eyes showed relief. She slowly walked up to him, like she was on autopilot.

Five couldn't believe what he was seeing. (Your Name). The one he was the closest to, standing before him, after just being told she was in a coma. Just when he thought she wasn't alive.

“(Your Name).”

Hearing her name come out of his mouth, (Your Name) sniffled behind her mask and jogged a bit towards the boy; immediately wrapping her arms around him. Five hugged back, clinging onto her. The two embraced for some time, afraid of letting each other go.

They eventually pull away but they can't take their eyes off each other. (Your Name) was still in disbelief that she reached her hands out again and started poking Five's face and playing with his slightly messy hair.

Five gently batted her hands away. “I'm real. I'm right here.” He told her.

(Your Name) raised her hands up a little, backing up a little. That's when she noticed the newspaper. She walked over and picked it up. Her eyes widened at the headline stating that her father was dead.

“This must be very shocking for you.” Allison said to the masked girl. The girl nodded her head before placing the newspaper back on the table. She had no idea how to feel about this. Five, on the other hand,

“Like I said, nice to see nothing's changed.” Five turned and started to leave the kitchen.

“Uh, that's it? That's all you have to say?” Allison asked.

“What else is there to say? The circle of life.” Five said dismissively.

“Well… that was interesting.” Luther said.

Everyone agreed.

Allison spoke again, “(Your Name). Do you want to change your clothes?”

The girl looked at her pajamas and nodded her head.

“Okay. I'll take you upstairs.” Allison offered.

“Come on, Allison. She's not a baby. She can take care of herself.” Diego stated.

“Oh, but Diego, she's been out cold for seventeen years. She probably can't function correctly after not moving for that long.” Klaus whined, defending Allison and (Your Name).

“She's seventeen, not seven.” Diego snapped.

Allison sighed, rolling her eyes. “Come on.” She took (Your Name) upstairs. “You remember where the bathroom is?” She asked. (Your Name) nodded. “Great. You can get cleaned up if you can do it by yourself. We'll wait for you.”

“Thank you.” (Your Name) signed. “You're welcome.” Allison said. “I'm so happy to have my sister back, alive and well.” She added with a smile before she left to go back downstairs.

(Your Name) watched her leave, feeling a comfortable warmth all over her body at Allison's kind words. She went over to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. She heard Five curse in one of the other rooms but thought nothing of it.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She didn't change a bit. She looked like what she did when she was seventeen. But her hair had grown significantly longer; it was almost to her knees. She rummaged around and found a brush and a pair of hair scissors. She brushed it out slowly, getting stuck on a few knots. Once it was smooth, she immediately started cutting the strands of hair. She started by bluntly cutting about ¾ of it off. Now the length was just underneath her breasts. She started to cut it more strategically. She did it in sections and after around ten minutes, her hair was now just above her breasts and in layers. (You can do whatever style you want, whether shorter or longer.)

She turned on the shower and closed the door. She removed her clothes and mask and stepped into the shower, sighing as the warm water hit her skin. She showered until she felt clean, which took her some time, then stepped out, dripping wet. She grabbed the towel and started to dry herself off. She then wrapped the towel around herself and headed to her room to find some clothes.

However, when she got to the door, she saw a glimpse of Five in there and backed away with a soft gasp. Five must've heard her because he spoke up,

“(Your Name). Sorry about this, but I heard you in the shower and decided to pick out your clothes. It's the uniform only, unfortunately.”

The girl peeked inside her room, only showing Five her eyes and up. She reached her hands out and signed, “Thank you.”

Five hummed, giving her a nod. “I'll let you change.” He left her room. (Your Name) watched him leave, noticing his cheeks were a faint shade of pink.

‘Is it because I caught him in my room? Or because he saw me in only a towel? Or both, maybe?’

The girl shrugged, not thinking too much about it, and closed the door once she was inside her room. She slipped on the oh-too-familiar uniform. She looked at herself in her full-body mirror and sighed, not liking how the skirt looked. She then noticed a pair of pants on the bed and decided to switch the skirt out for them. Luckily, the pants fit and checked herself again. She hummed in approval and left the room.

(Your Name) headed downstairs and decided to go to the foyer. She saw Vanya heading over there too, so she walked with her. “You look good.” She spoke quietly. (Your Name) hummed in thanks.

They get to the foyer and see Five standing in there, in front of the fireplace and the portrait of him over the wall. She shyly walked to him, looking at the portrait too.

“Nice to know Dad didn't forget about me.” He said. He turned to see Vanya and (Your Name) standing next to each other. “Read your book, by the way.” He added, addressing Vanya. “Found it in a library that was still standing.”

‘Still standing. What does that mean? And Vanya wrote a book?’ (Your Name) thought to herself.

Five continued as he walked, looking around. “I thought it was pretty good, all things considered. Yeah, definitely ballsy, giving up the family secrets. Sure that went over well.”

‘Did Vanya write about us? Was it positive? Negative? In between? I need to read it myself.’ (Your Name) thought to herself.

“They hate me.” Vanya simply said.

‘I don't hate you.’ (Your Name) thought to herself.

“Oh, there are worse things that can happen.” Five told Vanya.

“You mean like what happened to Ben?” Vanya asked.

This made (Your Name)’s eyes widen. ‘Wait. Where is Ben?!’ Then it hit her. ‘Don't tell me he's …’

Five asked quietly, “Was it bad?”

Vanya only nodded.

(Your Name) felt her heart drop. ‘Oh my God.’

☂

It was pouring out, thunder rumbling as the siblings all walked out to the courtyard for the funeral. Luther led the way, holding the urn that held their late father's ashes. Almost everyone opened up their black umbrellas, minus Klaus who had a clear umbrella with hot pink trim; basically a little kid umbrella. (Your Name) shared an umbrella with Five.

Luther separated from the other siblings, standing a little ways away while the others made a half circle.

“Did something happen?” Their mother, Grace, asked. Everyone looked at their mother. Allison was the one to respond, “Dad died. Remember?”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” She replied, sounding solemn. “Is Mom okay?” Allison asked in concern. “Yeah, yeah, she's fine.” Diego replied.

Klaus pulled out a cigarette and (Your Name) let out a sigh behind her mask.

“She just needs to rest. You know, recharge.” Diego continued.

Pogo arrived with his own black umbrella. “Whenever you're ready, dear boy.” He addressed Luther.

Luther opened the urn and turned it sideways to dump the ashes. However, the ashes just fell onto the ground, making things very awkward.

“Probably would have been better with some wind.” Luther pointed out.

(Your Name) secretly agreed with that statement.

“Does anyone wish to speak?” Pogo asked.

No one volunteered. They just looked around, blank faces. (Your Name) would've stepped up if she wasn't afraid to speak in general.

“Very well.” Pogo started his speech, “In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master… and my friends and I shall miss him very much.”

(Your Name) could tell Pogo was trying to keep it together. She felt a frown form on her face. She knew Pogo and her late father were close, and she wished she could go over and hug the monkey.

“He leaves behind a complicated legacy-”

“He was a monster.” Diego interrupted.

Klaus laughed quietly and (Your Name) looked to Klaus with a blank stare that immediately shut him up. She moved her stare to Diego. Even though Diego had a point, it was still rude to interrupt Pogo like that.

“He was a bad person and a worse father.” Diego continued. “The world's better off without him.”

“Diego.” Allison scolded.

“My name is Number Two. You know why? Because our father couldn't be bothered to give us actual names. He had Mom do it.” Diego said.

(Your Name) looked at Five and she could tell that comment kind of affected him. He masked it well but she could read him like a book.

“Would anyone like something to eat?” Their mom spoke up. “No, it's okay, Mom.” Vanya replied. “Oh, okay.”

“Look, you wanna pay your respects? Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was.” Diego said.

“You should stop talking now.” Luther spoke up.

Diego turned to look at Luther. “You know, you of all people should be on my side, Number One.” He taunted.

“I am warning you.” Luther spoke threateningly.

“After everything he did to you?”

Things were slowly reaching a boiling point.

“He had to ship you a million miles away.”

“Diego, stop talking.” Luther growled out his sentence.

But Diego kept going. “That's how much he couldn't stand the sight of you!” He exclaimed, poking his finger on Luther's chest.

With that comment, Luther roughly pushed Diego's hand away and started to throw punches at the other male. Now the two of them were in a full on fist fight. Allison rolled her eyes while Vanya gently ushered their mom back.

“Boy, stop this at once!” Pogo ordered.

Vanya yelled at them to stop. Klaus encouraged the fighting. The two boys kept fighting. Pogo sighed before scoffing and leaving. (Your Name) didn't know what to do; she just watched with wide eyes.

“We don't have time for this.” Five muttered in disinterest as he left. (Your Name) wanted to follow him but stayed back, standing with Klaus.

The fight hit a low point when Luther went to punch Diego, but the latter dodged, causing Luther's fist to collide with Ben's memorial statue. It fell over and when it hit the ground, the head came clean off.

Klaus audibly cringed and (Your Name) flinched.

“And there goes Ben's statue.” Allison said, quietly fuming before she turned around, leaving.

Suddenly, Diego pulled out a knife.

“Diego, no!” Vanya yelled.

(Your Name) knew then, this has gone too far. She pulled down her mask as Diego went to throw the knife.

“Stop!”

Just as she used her power, the knife was thrown. But when he went to grab another, he froze when her power hit him, making him freeze. The blade scratched Luther's arm, revealing a lot of hair. Luther quickly covered it with his hand and walked away quickly, panting and gasping hard.

Everyone else was in shock. They all looked at (Your Name), who was breathing a bit heavily. She saw their eyes on her, and she quickly pulled her mask up and ran inside.

She ran past Allison and Five as she headed to her room. “(Your Name)! What's wrong?!” Allison called out to her in worry. (Your Name) couldn't hear her. She got to her room and shut the door. She sat on her bed, moving her head as she looked down at the floor, panting softly. She subconsciously felt her hand on to her wrist as she remembered a moment from her past.

〰️

17 YEARS AGO

“Nietzsche once said, “Man is as a rope stretched between the animal and the superhuman. A rope over an abyss. It is a dangerous crossing, a dangerous looking-back, a dangerous trembling, and halting.”

The seven super-powered children waited at the foot of long spiral stairs, dressed in matching green and white tracksuits. She had her signature mask on, but this one had a special invention hooked in it, allowing her to use her ability without removing her mask. Reginald said that sometimes it's needed in desperate situations or in the training they were doing today.

With the blow of a whistle from Vanya, the seven kids started running up the spiral staircase.

“As much as you strive for individual greatness, and strive you must, for it won't come to you of its own accord…”

The kids all ran as fast as they could. Luther was in the lead for some time until Diego managed to squeeze through and take the lead.

“You must also remember that there is no individual stronger than the collective.”

Out of nowhere, (Your Name) watched Five disappear and reappear ahead of Diego.

“That's not fair, Five's cheating!” Diego yelled.

“He adapted.” Reginald simply stated.

Thinking fast (Your Name) used her ability on Luther and Diego. “Pause!”

The two froze as (Your Name) ran past them. After two seconds, they came to. “What?! Now (Your Name)’s cheating!” Diego yelled.

“She adapted, too.” Reginald said simply.

Five felt a small smirk stretch onto his lips as (Your Name) caught up with him.

They both finished at the same time.

☂

“The ties that bind you together make you stronger than you are alone.”

The kids were getting tattoos today. Allison was crying as Klaus held her, comforting her. They got theirs already.

Diego was in the chair, getting his. He was squirming a bit in pain. Their mother tried to comfort him, but he flicked away, not wanting to seem like a baby.

“They will make you impervious to the pain and hardship the world will thrust upon you.”

Reginald watched them quietly. He turned to the other four, still in chairs waiting. Luther shifted uncomfortably, trying to stay strong. Ben was panting softly.

“And believe me when I tell you, life will be hard.”

Five was the most put together, only blinking nervously and fidgeting his hands a bit. He turned to (Your Name), who sat on his right. She was also panting softly, looking down at her feet nervously. Five knew she was on the verge of a panic attack. He reached his hand out to her and took her hand in his. The masked girl turned to him, eyes shiny with unshed tears. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze to ground herself. Five let her, watching her quietly.

Vanya watched from the stairway. Feeling left out, she took a marker and drew the tattoo on her wrist.

☂

“We can accomplish anything when we accept responsibility together. This is what creates trust.”

Reginald watched his children sleep, monitoring them through wires taped on their heads. The surveillance cameras showed each of them in their room as he worked at his desk.

“Together, you will stand against the reign of evil.”

〰️

(Your Name) sighed through her nose. The action made her cough a little. She looked around her room to see if there was any more throat medication. She managed to find a lot of vials in her bathroom in a secret compartment. She took a bottle, put it in her pocket and headed back downstairs.

☂

In the kitchen, Five was searching the cabinets. Klaus was seated at the table, feet up on the table as usual, guitar in his hands. Allison came in, removing her jacket.

“Where's Vanya and (Your Name)?” She asked.

“Oh. She's gone. As for (Your Name), I don't know. Haven't seen her since she used her ability on Diego.” Klaus replied.

“Wait. She used her ability?” Allison asked in surprise. Five took a moment to look at Klaus, curiosity etched on his face, but he was also secretly surprised.

“Yeah. To try to stop Diego from harming Luther. She looked scared after using it, though.” Klaus observed.

“You know she's afraid of using her ability. She always has been.” Allison said.

Just then, (Your Name) came into the kitchen. Klaus saw her first. “Oh, there you are, dear sister! I missed you!” He whined. (Your Name)’s shoulders went up in a quiet chuckle at his words.

Allison went over. “Are you okay? Klaus told us about what happened.”

The masked girl signed, “I'm okay.”

Allison nodded at her. Then, (Your Name) signed, “Where's Vanya?”

Klaus saw her hand movements and replied, “She's gone.”

“That's unfortunate.” Five spoke up.

Allison agreed verbally.

But Five was talking about something else. “An entire square block. Forty-two bedrooms, nineteen bathrooms, but no, not a single drop of coffee.”

“Dad hated caffeine.” Allison reminded him.

“Well, he hated children, too, and he had plenty of us.” Klaus pointed out, laughing afterward.

(Your Name) nodded her head at both statements.

“I'm taking the car.” Five said.

This caught the other three siblings’ attention. ‘He can drive?!’ (Your Name) thought to herself.

“Where are you going?” Klaus asked, curiosity etched on his face but also intrigue as he sat up properly.

Five glared at Klaus. “To get a decent cup of coffee.” His gaze softened when he turned to look at (Your Name). “Want to come with me?” He offered.

(Your Name) was surprised by the offer, but she nodded her head, kind of excited to hang out with Five again.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Allison asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“I know how to do everything.” Five replied. He looked at (Your Name). “You know where the car is. Head over there.” He told her before he blinked away.

(Your Name) looked at Klaus and Allison before shrugging and leaving the kitchen, heading to where the car was.

She got out by the alleyway by the mansion and saw headlights coming her way. She raised a hand up to shield her eyes from the bright lights. The car stopped in front of her. The driver side window rolled down, revealing Five.

“Need a ride?” He asked, a teasing smirk on his face.

The masked girl nodded and walked over to the other side of the car. She opened the passenger side door and got in. Five started to drive again. “We're heading to Griddy's. You remember that place, right?” Five asked. (Your Name) nodded yes excitedly.

A comfortable silence fell in the car. A few minutes passed without the two talking. Until Five asked a question,

“Why was everyone talking about you being dead?”

(Your Name) shifted uncomfortably. Five noticed her discomfort. “You don't have to tell me.”

The girl shook her head. “I was in a coma. For seventeen years.” She signed.

Five looked at (Your Name) in surprise. “Seventeen years?!” The girl nodded. “I don't know how, but I'm still seventeen physically. I should technically be 34 years old.” She signed.

‘She's like me in a way.’ Five thought to himself.

“Strange.” He muttered.

They arrived at Griddy's. Five turned the car off and got out. (Your Name) followed out and walked with him. Someone held the door open for them, and (Your Name) nodded to them in thanks. The two sit down on the high table, next to each other, and Five rings the bell on the table.

As the two waited, someone else came in and started on Five's left side.

Then, a waitress walked in after leaving the back. “Sorry, sink was clogged. So, what'll it be?” She pulled out a notepad.

“Uh, give me a chocolate éclair.” The man told her. She wrote it down and looked at the kids. “Can I get the kids a glass of milk or something?”

Five scoffed. “The kid wants coffee. Black. And she'll have (Favorite Donut).”

On cue, (Your Name)’s stomach growled.

“Cute kids.” The waitress chuckled awkwardly at the man, who was confused.

Five gave her a very fake smile, making (Your Name) lightly nudge him, silently reprimanding him.

Sensing more awkwardness, the waitress started to get the orders.

Five let out a sigh. “Don't remember this place being such a shithole. I used to come here as a kid. Used to sneak out with my brothers and sisters and eat doughnuts till we puked. You remember, right?” The last question was directed to (Your Name) who nodded her head.

“Simpler times, huh?” Five said to the man.

The man was very confused but played along. “Eh. I suppose.”

The waitress came back with the orders. The older man took out money and gave it to the waitress. “Here. I got theirs.”

“Thanks.” Five said. (Your Name) hummed and nodded her head to the man before she turned around, facing away from the two as she started to eat her donut.

Five noticed the man's jacket, seeing the logo on the front. “You must know your way around the city.” He told the man. “I hope so. I've been driving it for twenty years.” Five nodded a bit. “Good. I need an address.”

(Your Name) wasn't listening to the two, too focused on eating the sweet treat. She didn't realize how hungry she was until then.

She heard the door open and close, and she turned around again, facing the right way. She just finished her doughnut and pulled her mask back up. “Thank you.” She signed to Five.

Five hummed, nodding at her. He folded a napkin and put it in his pocket. He went to sip his coffee but stopped when the door opened again. In the reflection of the bell, he saw people enter. (Your Name) heard it too.

“Hmm. That was fast. I thought I had more time before they found me.” Five spoke.

(Your Name) looked using her peripheral vision and saw men pointing their guns at them. She felt panic rush through her veins, but she stayed still. ‘What is happening?’ She thought to herself.

One of the armed men spoke, “Okay. So let's all be professional about this, yeah? On your feet and come with us. They want to talk.”

‘Who's they?’ (Your Name) thought.

“I've got nothing to say.” Five simply said.

The armed man then suddenly pointed his gun at (Your Name). “It doesn't have to go this way. You think I want to shoot a kid? Let alone two? One that's not even involved in this? Go home with that on my conscience?”

(Your Name) swallowed nervously. She looked at Five from her peripheral vision. She saw his hands move underneath the table. He was signing to her.

“Be ready.”

The masked girl nodded a bit.

Five spoke again, “Well, I wouldn't worry about that.” He turned to look at the man. “You won't be going home.” He stealthily picked up the butter knife on the table, and with a blink of an eye, he disappeared and reappeared behind the man and threw the knife at the man. The knife lodged into the man, killing him instantly.

The other armed men started shooting, and (Your Name) immediately ducked down, avoiding the flying bullets.

“Hey assholes!” Five caught their attention before he blinked away. The armed men started shooting again. (Your Name) stayed ducked down, but she pulled down her mask, getting ready for anything.

Five appeared again, jabbing the end of a mop into one of the men in the side before blinking away again. He reappeared behind another and used his necktie to pin the guy down on a table and strangle him. One of them tried to shoot at Five, but (Your Name) quickly stood up.

“Stop!”

The man froze in place, and Five took the opportunity to grab a pencil off another table and stabbed the guy, and threw a plate at one that was behind (Your Name), knocking him down. He then pulled the pencil out of the man and stabbed him in the eye. The man screamed in pain and fell back, blood spraying out the wound.

The last two standing armed men stood up, charging at the two. Five ran to the table counter and blinked away while (Your Name) dodge rolled away, making two of them shoot each other instead of them.

Five blinked back, sighing as he walked around the carnage. (Your Name) saw one was still breathing. She turned to him.

“Die.”

With that word said, the man took his last breath and died on the spot.

(Your Name) pulled up her mask. “Great work, (Your Name). You still have it in you.” Five praised her as he got his necktie off the guy he strangled. The masked girl felt her cheeks warm up a little at the praise.

Five heard beeping and picked up a device that looked like a tracking device. He immediately grabbed a bigger knife and rolled up his right sleeve.

(Your Name) was confused at first, but when she saw Five cutting his arm, she internally panicked and went to stop him.

“It's all right, (Your Name).” He tried to reassure her. With a groan of pain, he dug into the self made cut, making poor (Your Name) whine in worry. After a few seconds, Five pulled out a tiny tracking chip, beeping softly and flashing a green dot.

‘Why does he have that in his arm? And who were those men that we just killed?’ (Your Name) thought to herself.

Five wrapped his cut with napkins and rolled his sleeve down. “Let's go, (Your Name).” He gestured her to follow him, with his head. (Your Name) followed willingly and walked on Five's right side. She watched him drop the tracking chop into a puddle near a drain. He fixed his tie with a smirk as he continued walking, with (Your Name) following beside him.

“Who were those people? Why did they follow us? What did they want with us?” The masked girl signed, getting over the slight shock she just experienced.

“Don't worry. I'll answer those questions soon. But we need to go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Just follow me.” Five instructed. “You trust me, right?” He gave the masked girl a barely there smile.

(Your Name) felt her cheeks warm up again. She nodded, signing, “Always.”

Five nodded back at her with a hum as he led her to their next destination.

☂

The pair arrived at an apartment complex.

“Who lives here?” (Your Name) signed.

“You'll see.” Five placed his hands on (Your Name)’s arms. “All right. I'm going to blink us up to the floor we need to. Hold onto me.”

(Your Name) instinctively grabbed Five's arms, and within seconds, the two were teleported into one of the rooms. The masked girl felt dizzy but managed to steady herself. She heard Five sit down in the armchair, and she just stood by him.

They heard the door unlocking and opening. Five turned on the light switch. It was Vanya.

“Jesus!” Vanya flinched in surprise.

“You should have locks on your windows.”

“I live on the second floor.” Vanya said.

“Rapists can climb.” Five coolly retorted.

“And murderers, and robbers.” (Your Name) signed.

“You two are so weird.” Vanya closed the apartment door. She removed her jacket and sat down on the couch. That's when she noticed something red on Five's shirt. “Is that blood?”

“It's nothing.” Five simply replied. (Your Name) shook her head frantically at his words, humming in denial, but the two others ignored her.

“Why are you here?” Vanya asked.

Five sighed. “I've decided you are the only one I can trust. Along with (Your Name).”

“Why me?” Vanya asked.

“Because you're ordinary.” Five replied.

(Your Name) gently hit Five's shoulder in response, silently scolding him. “Because you'll listen.” He corrected himself. “(Your Name) too.”

Vanya agreed and got up to get medical supplies. She came back, and Five rolled up his sleeve, revealing the blood-soaked napkin. Vanya started to fix him up as she looked at (Your Name).

“What about you? Do you need any fixing up?” She asked. (Your Name) shook her head, and she tapped on her pocket before pulling out a vial of throat medicine. “Oh. That's good.” Vanya nodded before she continued helping Five. (Your Name) turned the cap on the bottle and pulled up her mask before she started drinking out of the bottle. The liquid soothed her sore throat. She put the now empty bottle back in her pocket as she heard Five explain,

“When I jumped forward and got stuck in the future, do you know what I found?”

“No.” Vanya replied. (Your Name) shook her head.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Five said. “As far as I could tell, I was the last person left alive. I never figured out what killed the human race, but… I did find something else. The date it happens.” Five paused for a moment.

“The world ends in eight days, and I have no idea how to stop it.”

(Your Name) and Vanya were shocked. They couldn't believe what they just heard.

Vanya offered to make coffee while (Your Name) stayed, still in shock.

‘The world is ending soon? What will we do?’

[marlsswrites]

Coffee and skates

Ice skating AU, part one!!

July 1st - words: 518

Figure skating was most definitely the highlight of Regulus' day, he can't imagine who he would be without it. He went to a prestigious art university in London, and survived mostly from the money that he was able to take from his parents before he moved in with his best friends for his university accommodation - but figure skating was the only thing that really felt like it belonged to him.

He's been doing it since he could walk, start his day with an early morning brain that perfectly cleared his mind of any negative thought, for a few hours, it was just him and the smooth, gliding, sharply cold ice underneath his feet. He's ever so grateful that his university offers a figure skating extra curricular.

One of the things he loved most about his skating, was his coach. Euphemia Potter. She was the kindest woman Regulus had ever met, so rough and brave, yet soft and caring. She's the closest to a mother that he's ever had, it is a low bar, considering the state of his last one.

She understood when Regulus jumped away at any touch, or when he was startled about how motherly she was with him, it wasn't something he was used to. 

He can be quite quiet with anyone he doesn't know very well, for the first year of knowing her - Regulus hardly spoke. But now Regulus knows that she has a husband, Monty, or Flea sometimes, he's not entirely sure what that mans actual name was.

She also has a son, only a year or so older than Regulus, James Potter, described by Effie as 'the joy that keeps this world alive.' He seemed alright, Regulus didn't know much about the man, nor had he met him. All he did know was that James and Regulus' brother, Sirius, were actually quite close friends from uni - though he doesn't see his brother too much any more, he's been rather busy.

"One, two, one, two..." He heard Effie shout along in tune with the song as his skates sliced through the ice in graceful patterns. "Amazing!" She praised as he halted into his finishing position, she was helping Regulus prepare for his competition which takes place in a few months, for once he finally feels good enough. "Just perfect." As Regulus skated over to the rinks exit and smiled at her.

"I'm glad." He pushed away the smile he was hiding at her words.

"You're allowed to smile Regulus." She sighed, still a fond smile on her face. "I've got to shoot, I'm meeting James for coffee."

He nodded, sitting down next to her and unlacing his skates with quick, painted black fingers. "Have fun, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes yes, of course." She offered. She wasn't young, Regulus had never asked her age, but she had to be in her sixties, but he was the best coach he'd had in all his years of skating. "You'll have to meet him soon, you two would get along."

"Would we?" He questioned as the older woman hummed in response, an unreadable yet smug smile present on her face. "We'll see."

Next part

-

a/n: I want to clarify that Sirius lives with James in uni accommodation, and he never ran away to the Potters, he went to Andromeda who helped him join uni, then that's when he and James met. They're in their third year, Reg in his second. :)

[adventuringblind]

Deserving

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Summary: while she falls into the pit of her mind, Charles is there to pull her out.

Warnings: mentioned self-harm, anxiety, toxic media, mentions of addiction

Notes: A Nonny request, I hope you like it!! This one is definitely an insight into how my brain works.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Everyone says rookie years are the hardest. Which, she won't say everyone is wrong, just that she also had consistently bad years. They blend into each other now. A never-ending cycle of the same lame excuses as to why she's so downcast.

She's a rookie driver and having a pretty decent season. Logan and Oscar are two of her closest friends. She's dating Charles Leclerc of all people.

So why is that piece of her brain still nagging at her? Years of therapy and help hasn't done the trick. The stinging still pushes through to the front of her mind.

The habit started so young. It was a distraction from the pain of whatever she'd been going through at the time. A means to satisfy her the voices in her head. Now it's to remind her she's still alive. That the media hasn't shattered her already frail will to live quite yet.

Everything in her wants to just... stop. Everyday she's reminded that her place is somewhere else. Not in the car, not with Charles, not even on the planet.

It doesn't matter that she's having a good year, that the car is good, or that she has people who love her. The voices always come back in those dark hours when she's alone.

She staggered herself in the beginning. Enough that her physio wasn't catching on. She lived in Charles' hoodies, and he thought nothing of it. Just another source of comfort.

He'd seen the faded scars, asked her about it every occasionally. He never pushes her to talk about it.

She doesn't deserve Charles, or anyone for that matter. Mentors, family, friends, they are all to wonderful for her to drag them down into her misery. The constant pity party she throws herself has no guests, only her and her demons.

Redbull isn't the best environment for someone as fragile as her. Despite the boosts of confidence Christian gives her daily and the constant reassurance from Max, she doesn't feel like she deserves it. The media is eating her alive. The next teammate to be crucified to Redbull and Mad Max.

It's starting to become noticeable again. The lack of sleep and covering clothes. Charles is skeptical and keeps reassuring her she can talk to him.

If she does that, he'll leave. Her mind can't take being alone yet.

Max is the first to catch sight of the new lines adorning her wrist. He asks if she's alright, but again, nobody pushes for more. Maybe if they did, she would break. Her fragile walls would come tumbling down.

Oscar is the next to push. A good friend of hers and they've both had good seasons. He and Logan show up one night with comfort food and cards. It manages to make her smile like when they were younger.

But they have to leave eventually. The voices swallow her whole the second she's alone again.

Charles finally pushes for answers. He finds her alone, body slumped along the hotel bathroom wall. She's exhausted, but manages to give a crooked, tired smile.

He crouches down in front of her and looks at the fresh line on her thighs. Bandages are something she has readily available, and Charles knows exactly where to find them.

He works quietly, just humming softly as he patches her up. It's a classical song that he listens enough that she knows the tune but not the name.

Charles dresses her into comfy clothes and tucks her into bed. A hand plays with her hair and strokes her cheek.

She doesn't deserve him.

"Tell me what's eating away at you, chéri. Please, I hate that you won't talk to me."

She scoots her body closer to Charles so she doesn't have to see his face. "Just hard - I guess."

"It's okay to have hard days. It's okay that you feel the way you do. But this thing, hurting yourself, is not the way to make it better."

"I know that, Charlie!" Her voice cracks at saying his name. "I just can't help it."

Those fragile walls she has come tumbling down. The pit of despair finally swallows her, and she can't stop the tears.

It hurts. Her head, her heart, her bones, it all hurts. She falls and shatters, but Charles is here to put the pieces back together.

"I don't deserve you. You're everything people love, and I don't want to drag you down with me."

"Who put that idea in your head?"

"The voices," She sniffles. Her words muffled when Charles pulls her into his chest.

"Well, the voices are incorrect. I, of all people, know what it's like for the media to pick you a part. Whether it's appearances, my driving, my relationships, they will always find something." Charles pulls her back just a bit, enough for him to make eye contact. She hates how his eyes are as glassy as hers. "You don't have to suffer all alone, in silence. You have people around you that understand and want to help. None of us are asking for perfection. We - I - don't want to see you hurting so much."

"What if it's too much?"

"Then we figure it out together."

She falls asleep in Charles' arms. Tears soak into everything, but he doesn't tell her to move. He comforts, because Charles loves her.

She has people who want to be there for her. Yes, slips happen, healing is never straightforward, but she can try. She can lean on Charles, let him love her; let him be the steady rock she needs in her life.

"Progress chéri, not perfection."

"You sound like all team principles."

"And? It's a good saying!"

Charles pulls a laugh out of her. A genuine laugh at something that isn't even funny. She blames her love for him.

"Maybe I do deserve you."

"If this is an insult, I'm taking all the covers tonight."

[burntheedges-updates]

over again, chapter 1

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it)18+ minors DNI chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, light angst, cursing, no use of y/n, no description of reader (see note below), smallish age difference (reader is 26, Joel is 32/almost 33 when they meet in 2000) (small for this fandom, anyway) (the smut comes later, y'all, we're just getting started here) a/n: Well, here we go! This is part 1. This fic is completely finished. It’s a 5+1 and for some of the 5 parts I’ll post them together (on Sundays) and for some I’ll post them separately (on Sundays and Wednesdays) just due to length. Obviously I'm posting this one early (lol). I’ll tell you whatever the schedule is for the different parts. I've paid a lot of attention to the reader's description in this fic. I've avoided skin color, hair type, body shape/size descriptions, and even clothing (except for one or two spots where you are specifically wearing jeans and boots). You are vaguely shorter than Joel. He does not run his fingers through your hair, and you feel the blood rush to your face or your face heat, but you don't turn red or pink. Please tell me if you notice anything I missed - I want this to be as inclusive as possible. word count: 1724 (for this part) series main post & chapter list | series playlist (w/ plot-related mix) ao3 | chapter 2

Chapter 1: Meet Cute

Jackson, Early Winter, 2023

You’ve been heading northwest from somewhere in Kansas, thinking you’ve never bothered going out this way, even Before, so why not? It’s been months since you saw another person. You’re not even sure the last time you spoke out loud. 

You blame the lengthy isolation for how easily they get the jump on you. 

It's just after dawn when you're rudely awakened - at first, you’re not sure why, but a second kick to your hip sends you scrambling to sit up in your sleeping bag, which is tangled around your legs. Looking around as you struggle, you realize you’re surrounded by people on foot and on horseback. Every single one of them is pointing a gun at you. You glance to the side and realize your backpack along with anything possibly useful inside of it has been kicked away from you. The woman who kicked you has a steely look in her eye that reminds you, in your half awake state, of the last boss you had Before. 

“State your business.” As she speaks you notice the two men closest to her start to fan out a bit, but you don’t dare look away from her.

“I’m just passing through, I’ve been looking for a good place to spend the winter.”

Or, that’s what you would have said, if not for the voice from your past shouting your name in shock just as you open your mouth. “No goddamn way, is that really you?”

You think you must be hallucinating, because everyone you knew Before is dead, but then Tommy fucking Miller pushes his way in front of the woman who spoke. For a moment you can’t do more than stare at each other — him with his gun hanging limply in his right hand, you with your legs still tangled in your godforsaken sleeping bag. Then you launch into motion and start to kick it away as you find your voice. It comes out shaky. Or maybe you’re shaking all over.

“Tommy? But — you’re alive? Where the hell have you been? Wait, are Joel and—“

Tommy cuts you off as he pulls you to your feet and into a tight hug. “Holy shit, we thought you were dead. Holy fucking shit.”

“We? Tommy wait, are they—“

Tommy pulls back, keeping hold of your shoulders as he looks you in the eye. He’s grinning, his eyes wandering all over your face. “He’s alive, sunshine. Or he was when he came through here about a month ago. We’re expecting them back in the spring.”

You can feel your heart racing and your whole body feels hot and tingly. You’re overwhelmed. You didn’t think you could still feel hope like this. It’s terrifying, but you have to know. “He’s- Them? They’re both alive? Sarah?”

You know the answer before he even says anything. Tommy’s face falls, his eyes drop from yours, and you feel it like a sucker punch, as bad as it was the first time around. Your knees give out even though this is what you’ve known, or tried to convince yourself must be true, for 20 years. Tommy falls gently with you to the ground.

Your baby girl. “Oh god, Sarah. And Joel, he must have been—“

“Yeah, sunshine. He thought he lost you both. It wasn’t… well. It wasn’t good.” 

You’re starting to feel numb. You have no idea what your face is doing right now, but judging by Tommy’s, it isn’t pretty. 10 minutes ago you were alone in the apocalypse, and suddenly you’re face-to-face with your almost-brother-in-law and you know, without a doubt, that your fiancé hasn’t been dead this whole time. Is this shock? It’s been 20 years since you felt a shock like this. Since you felt anything like this. 

“Tommy, I… I need to sit down.”

“Well, you are sitting down, sunshine. But get up, gather your stuff. You can come to town with us. Stay as long as you’d like.” You nod, unsteady, and Tommy guides you carefully towards what must be his horse. 

The day passes in a daze. You think you might actually be hallucinating, or still back in your sleeping bag, dreaming, because a whole, functional town? A commune, and a house they’re just going to let you have as your own? A real community? With your only remaining family, miraculously alive? It’s impossible. You float through the rest of the day and find yourself sitting on a bed in a house with indoor plumbing that somehow belongs to you, having just eaten real food in the company of the family you thought you lost 20 years ago.

You give up and go to sleep. (What else are you going to do?)

...

As you settle into life in Jackson, the knowledge that you might see Joel — your Joel, any day now — never leaves your thoughts. It’s like a drum beat at the back of your mind that only repeats his name, marking time every hour of every day. You don’t know how you’ll prepare yourself for it. How could you? You haven’t seen him in 20 years. Anything could be different. You can so easily picture him with a daughter, but it’s Sarah in your mind, not Ellie, who Tommy has told you a bit about. Every time you open those old wounds that you’ve done your best to bury it hurts like the first time. Would he still want you? Still know you? Do you still know him? Would Ellie like you? You can’t imagine not knowing Joel, or Joel not knowing you, but it’s been 20 years and people change. You’ve changed, after all. Some days you barely recognize yourself. 

You express these fears to Tommy once, but he only laughs and says his brother may be stupid but he’s not stupid enough not to want you. It’s reassuring and rude, so, exactly like Tommy. At least some things never change.

The day Joel Miller walks back into Jackson you happen to be standing on the road near the gates, talking to Tommy, and you swear he spots you in less than 5 seconds. It’s like you can’t help but look to each other first, even when you don’t know the other is alive, even when you haven’t seen each other in 20 years. You’d know the shape of him anywhere and your eyes have never stopped looking for it, never stopped catching on a set of shoulders, a cocked hip, a tilted head, only to be disappointed when it faded like a mirage. When the person in front of you didn’t fit the hole he left behind. It hurt every time. Maybe it’s been the same for him. 

Joel looks like he’s seen a ghost, and you have no idea what expression is on your face, but the moment you lock eyes all you see is the moment you first met, almost 24 years ago, like a film negative laid on top of what’s really in front of you. He’s older, of course, but so are you, and he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

He steps towards you and whispers your name like a prayer.

Joel fucking Miller. 

Austin, Summer 2000

It was a Saturday morning in late summer, so not yet the hottest part of the day, but not comfortable, either. Your belongings were steadily moving from the truck to your new rental house under your somewhat careful supervision when movement from the house next door caught your eye. You looked up just as one of the guys from the moving company almost dropped your nightstand off the back of the truck, distracting you from the sight of a young girl, maybe about 10, rocketing out of the house next door and down her front steps. She was wearing a bright green soccer uniform.

By the time your nightstand had been righted and you looked back towards your neighbors’ house, she’d made her way to the bushes between your driveways, standing on her tiptoes and taking in all of the commotion. She met your eye and grinned. You grinned back as she called, “Hi, new neighbor!” 

You walked over, stopping on the other side of the bush to introduce yourself. “Hi there, neighbor.” 

It didn’t seem possible, but she grinned even wider. “I’m Sarah, that’s my dad.”

You looked up, realizing there was a man coming down their steps towards the two of you — the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life. He was tall, with broad shoulders and the look of a man who spent a lot of time in the sun, tan lines peeking out of his shirt sleeves. His brown curls were a bit messy and his shoulders and strong arms drew your eye like a magnet. You caught yourself giving him a quick once over and felt your face start to warm, embarrassed, but when you met his eyes again you caught him doing the same to you. You realized you were both caught and you smiled, introducing yourself. 

“Nice to meet you, darlin’. Joel Miller, and I think you’ve met Sarah.” You felt your face turn hot at the endearment but you knew he probably didn’t mean anything by it. Southern hospitality and all. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

You’d opened your mouth to respond when you were rudely interrupted by a crashing noise from the moving truck behind you, and you whirled around to see a box on its side on the ground that definitely should not have been. You glanced back at your neighbors as you excused yourself. “It’s great to meet you! Sorry, I need to see what that was.”

They shooed you along before you could even finish your sentence, reassuring you that they understood. “Let me know if anything broke, darlin,’ I’m pretty handy, could probably fix it. It’d be my pleasure.” He smiled at you a bit, just on one side, edging towards a smirk, and you did your best not to stare at his mouth. “Deal,” you agreed, grinning. Both you and Joel seemed unable to draw your eyes away from each other. You were stuck, pinned in place under his gaze until Sarah tugged on his arm and dragged him towards their truck. “Dad, we’re gonna be late!”

The view from the back was just as nice as the front. 

...

a/n: ch 2 is up!

taglist: @morgaussy

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 01/07

Anonymous asked:i think youre the first liveblogger ive seen to actually remember that orphaner dualscar was eridan’s flarping name?

Mindfang clearly describes the Serkets, so I wonder if Dualscar says anything about the Amporas?

Eridan's greatest enemy does have a duality theme, after all - and he was certainly scarred when the guy stole his crush >:)

@captorations asked:i have terrible news regarding homestuck and the good place: https://x.com/nbcthegoodplace/status/1039908767763259392?lang=en not to mention that. well. the two share more than you've encountered yet. it's very likely not a coincidence. have fun! oh and. re: my ongoing campaign of pointing out the homestuck ancestry of tlt characters. please compare aradia's "i am very much alive and i intend to stay that way" with dulcinea's "i'm not in the river and i won't ever be again"

...oh my god.

On reflection, this makes a lot of sense. Homestuck's fandom is pretty large, and some of its members were bound to be involved in the production of mainstream media. Still, it's wild to see a Homestuck reference - or, technically, a Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff reference - on the official Twitter for a show this big.

And Aradia does have a lot in common with Dulcinea, doesn't she? For one thing, they didn't really start influencing the plot until after they died.

Anonymous asked: Not really important anymore, but looking at what Gamzee has in his Strife Deck, it doesn’t look like he has any ranged options: he’s got the bowling pins, what appear to be a discarded sickle and lance from Karkat and Tavros respectively, what I’m PRETTY SURE is a whip of some sort, and the Zillyhoo hammer. The closest to a ranged weapon in that stack is the whip, or maybe the pins if he’s willing to throw them, but neither seem like they’d work very well against Vriska. Barring some secret power or other plot twist, I think Gamzee would genuinely be the underdog in that matchup. (Which feels weird, because Gamzee’s been mutating into a slasher villain while Vriska’s still very much an antihero protagonist. Usually the power balance is the other way around with those archetypes!)

On the face of it, Gamzee didn't seem to have great odds in that fight - but it's hard to know for sure with this pesky Bard. His Strife Deck contains plenty of cards we haven't seen, and whatever he did to the Black King is still shrouded in mystery. Everything's just so uncertain with him.

@mimescantscream asked: I've really been holding back all this time, but now that we've met the Grand-highblood, it really is extra painful to see a Gamzee who was once incredibly loving of his friends (despite their constant ridicule) end up falling down the path that fate seems to have pre-ordained for him. Was he truly always meant to repeat echoes of the past? Could things ever have gone differently for him?

Yeah, I've been having similar thoughts. His PoV seemed completely sincere, so I don't think his original personality was a fabrication, or anything. I think there is a part of Gamzee that cares about his friends - and maybe even he wants it back.

@jade-harley-real asked: […] I want a rant on the bad doctor from you pls pls pls

Scratch is straight up the scariest character in Homestuck.

What's he up to now? Hard to say since we're not telling him what to do. Guardians can never be told what to do.

The aura of menace he's cultivated is incredible, especially considering he barely even moves. He's playing the entire cast like a fiddle, armed with nothing but a typewriter and his own supercharged brain - and there's no doubt in my mind that his confidence isn't a mask. He knows he's going to win in the end.

English is coming. He's basically already here.

@elkian asked: I'll probably never be a Vriska FAN, but I gotta admit, she really never had a chance, what with the only adults in her life being: a trollvorous spider 1 missed meal away from eating her, Marquise "I do what I want" Mindfang, and Doc Scratch. Some role models! @manorinthewoods asked: So, now that Mindfang has been revealed, here's a question for you: how much of Vriska's Vriskyness is because she's Vriska, how much is because of Mindfang, how much is because of her lusus, and how much is because of Alternia in general? ~LOSS (20/6/24)

This is why I don't think she'd be like this on Earth. At this point, it's obvious that none of her Incidents were the result of her personality as it naturally arose.

I mean, look how anti-Aradiacide she was! They weren't even really friends!

Anonymous asked: ‘AA: there are all sorts of friends to meet AA: ones you already know and ones you dont’ I mean…couldn’t she just be referring to various doomed selves? I don’t see why the dream bubbles would just be confined to the alpha timeline seeing as the furthest ring is weird in terms of time and space

I was assuming that only Alpha Timeline deaths would be preserved by the Bubbles, but you're right - I'm not sure that was a reasonable assumption.

The Horrorterrors seem to eschew the concept of the Alpha Timeline. and, they've coordinated with both Doomed and Alpha versions of Rose and Dave. Plus, yeah, there is no time in the Ring, so timelines are probably meaningless there. Why would it only interface with the Alpha?

If the Bubbles do preserve doomed souls, then we might also run into the John who died to Typheus, and the Jade he couldn't save. That's a pair of ghosts I'd be very interested to meet.

Anonymous asked: If every Aradia comes back from every doomed timeline, the number would double each time, so you could get over a thousand of her with only ten doomed timelines.

Fair point- although, if an already doomed Aradia went back in time again, she'd be double doomed. Is that even possible? Would she die twice as quickly?

@mhafanlol2000 asked: Your issues with quirks and speech-to-text are pretty simple to explain. If a troll were to speak into a non-modified speech-to-text program, it would output text with their quirk. Because they, quite literally, speak in their quirk. Terezi probably isnt actually saying “YOU H4V3 LOST TH3 G4M3”, each number at a time, but the vibes are definitely there. I don’t know, this is hard to describe if you don’t inherently get it.

I think, jokes aside, it is indeed about the vibes.

In the troll intro pages, you get told a little about how each troll talks, and I think that's how we're supposed to translate their quirks to an audible medium.

Anonymous asked: i think ppl in the fandom have over time kinda built up a like, generally separate understanding of quadrants from how theyre described in the "official" explanation. which is like, not representative of how these terms are used in homestuck, but probably more useful for describing Good relationships that Do Not Suck. like basically making moirails equivalent to being queer platonic partners, making blackrom more about having a healthy fun rivalry, that kinda stuff.

It's funny, actually - I don't think I've encountered a single asker who accepts the quadrants as they're originally described.

The main issue is that, with the possible exception of matespritship, we haven't seen a single troll relationship with reflects the infodump's explanation of the quadrants. I think Hussie might just have jumped the gun a little when dropping it.

Anonymous asked: Shoutout to Karkat poking his friends in the background! Terezi (crying over Dave) and now Soloux (talking to Terezi). Karkat isn’t sure what the right response is but wants to be included! Reminds me of actual cats, just putting a paw on you for no discernible reason. @manorinthewoods asked: I'd like to note that Karkat poking Terezi's tears is the same sprite (and same 'poooke'!) as Karkat poking Sollux's burnt-out eyesockets. ~LOSS (12/6/24)

My man just likes poking.

@alicesoinions asked: not much to say just wanted to say I really enjoy your liveblog!!

Glad you're enjoying!

I've actually got a few new followers recently. Maybe I'm showing up in people's recommendations?

@heliotropopause asked: Dream bubbles are pretty neat, eh? Neat enough to inspire half of HtN, I'd bet.

…wait.

Oh my god, you're right. It's literally a River Bubble. They're both located in afterlives, for crying out loud!

Anonymous asked: Wanted to thank your liveblog for reminding me of a lot that I had flat out missed in canon, due to not putting it together or just reading too quickly. Most recently and notably on my mind right now, is that Feferi is the one who set up the dreambubbles!!! I had always thought that they were just a part of the world that readers didn’t know about yet, like how we weren’t yet introduced to Alternia and it’s moons until act 5. This went right over my head and it has me absolutely REELING (fishing pun included just for fef!!)

Feferi truly is the MVP.

I wonder what happened to dead Players before the Bubbles?

They're certainly not the only type of afterlife in the multiverse. Alternia has at least two types of undead, which implies that the Players are very, very lucky to have retained their personhood postmortem. Imagine this was what Feferi looked like in Jade's dream.

Anonymous asked: Knowing sollux, he probably already had coded his tech to recognize if his speech ever changed, and gave himself a different typing quirk for it, long ago. Not because he knew or thought it would happen, but because he thought it would be a fun coding project ((I know nothing about coding))

And yet, you somehow know exactly how we think.

Anonymous asked: Something I hadn’t really thought about, until I started reading this liveblog, is how much VRISKA ((autocorrect decided to caps that and I’m leaving it in lol)) was manipul8ted into a lot of her violence. Scratch pushed her towards vengeance against Aradia, and she didn’t want to go through with it. Did VRISKA ever tell anyone how much of her live she spent resisting these forces, or even really acknowledge it? She didn’t hide Spidermom, and arguably her need to kill other trolls was to prevent herself from being killed. BUT on the other hand, VRISKA voice would make it sound like a compliment “I almost didn’t kill you why don’t you appreciate me!!!!!!!!”

The thing is, VRISKA probably felt a lot of social pressure not to tell people she was coerced into her crimes. That would reveal that she was reluctant to kill, which is the opposite of what the Empire wants.

@manorinthewoods asked: You could have written a great Homestuck if you'd been Hussie. I think your style, if translated from reacting-to-comic to making-comic, would work great with what Homestuck is, and could have made a better product. I think you'd make a cerebral Homestuck, which would have been cool to read, except I would have botched reading it like I botched reading Homestuck in our Alpha Timeline. ~LOSS (11/6/24)

Thank you! I've tried to write before, actually, but whenever I reread my stories, they come off as esoteric, stilted and a little hard to follow. It's not an insurmountable problem, of course, and I really need to take a writing workshop at some point.

I'd love to make a webcomic, too, but my art also leaves a lot to be desired. I can adapt sprites just fine, but original drawings are hard, guys. Did anyone else know about this?

Anonymous asked: i counted just now, and only like 24 out of all 54 paradox space comics have zero spoilers. some of them are certainly more substantial than others (e.g. i counted ones that include jade’s consorts that you havent seen yet as spoilers) but a lot of them have Very Big Spoilers

It would have been awfully messy. I'm probably just going to read it once I've reached the Gigapause of 2013, and no longer need to worry about spoilers.

@bladekindeyewear asked: “Nepeta wasn't trying to pacify Equius, nor did she seem to be fulfilling any rigidly defined 'role' in his life. They just came off as very good friends, and their relationship was much better for it.” Well, maybe we ought to look at it through the lens of real relationships between friends? Once a healthy dynamic and boundaries are established, perhaps Moirails stabilize as long as they’re together.

That's a good way to interpret moirallegence - although, it does raise an issue with the quadrant that I'll be discussing on its own post, once I've finished the comp. There's no point in prehashing what I'm about to say, so I'll see you there!

Anonymous asked: karkats message didn't go through because of trollians narrative awareness feature, where it'll display something different in service of one of the several "all"-seeing entities, of which the reader is one <3 watsonian and doylist explanations are kissing with tongue

Since the fourth wall is an actual, physical piece of technology in this world, this isn't even that far-fetched!

@sashonya asked: So, as the session's timers continues to count down, what do you think will happen after The Scratch?

Beyond 'the session ends', it's difficult to say for sure. I think the two most likely possibilities are that the kids start exploring other sessions, or travel to a location completely outside the current scope of the comic. I am, of course, hoping for both.

@ericvilas asked: "I still believe that out of all the trolls, Karkat’s traits were featured the most prominently in humanity" yeah, I guess even humans aren't free from the effects of carcinization

CG: THERE IS ONLY ONE STEP. CG: AND IT IS ME.

[drugsorgasmsandcheese]

i’m not going anywhere | j. miller

joel miller x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of joel’s suicide attempt, mental health problems, reader & joel being purely in love and devoted to each other i love it 💯, age gap (reader in 20’s, joel in 50’s), violence, murder, death, angst, reader being ellie’s mother figure YES MA’AM, flashbacks in italics, reader has a past with david, no word count cause i forgot 😔

i bet your shoulders can hold more than

just the straps of that tiny dress

that i’ll help you slide aside

when we get home

joel watches you from across the room, talking to some of the other women in jackson. he sees you laughing, the sight of your smile putting him at ease, knowing that you were at least comfortable.

it’s been a few months since the three of you arrived in jackson: yourself, joel and ellie. ellie was the first one to settle in, happy to be somewhere that wasn’t the QZ or the outside world, and you were soon to follow after her. all you ever wanted was a peaceful place to live, and jackson was the closest thing to it. and joel, he was the last, but only because he couldn’t settle until both you and ellie had.

the dress you wore was white and short, it hugged your chest tightly and pushed your breasts up like a corset would. joel didn’t know where you found that dress, but he’s glad you did. all he’s been thinking about is taking you home, slipping that dress off your body and worshipping you like a theist to their god.

he walks over, places his hand on your waist in a gentle grip and forcefully smiles at the rest of the women. “excuse me, ladies, need some time with my girl.” joel watches as the women nod enthusiastically, he doesn’t know if it’s because they like how he treats you or just like him. he doesn’t know because he can’t read other women, he’s only ever spent his time learning you.

“hi, honey.” you smile brightly at him, looking into his eyes with such care that joel feels himself melting under your gaze.

“missed ‘ya, darlin.” he tells you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, causing you to giggle.

“was only across the room. could’ve joined in the conversation.” he hums, continuing to press a series of kisses across your face. “joel!” you squeal playfully.

“wouldn’t be able to focus when i got you by my side, darlin.” his southern twang hits in the pet name. “‘specially when you wear that dress. ‘s sin, baby, look at ‘cha .” he runs his hands up and down your hips, drawing you in closer to his chest. you smile at him, hands hooking together round the back of his neck. “feel so damn good against me, sugar.”

you giggle. “then do something about it, tex.” joel stares at you, hunger flashing through his brown eyes as he drunkenly takes you in. he’s drunk off you, the idea of you, the thought of you. he’s wrapped around your finger, and if he has it his way, you’ll be wrapped up in the sheets together in no time.

i’ve seen em carry family

and the steel drum weight of me

effortless just like that dress

that i’ll help off

that day was the worst. joel being injured meant you and ellie were left to your own. she trusted you, she always did, you had always cared for her. before marlene, before joel; there was you. you taught her the tricks with her knife, you taught her how to tackle, to fight, the same way your uncle taught you when the outbreak began.

two innocent, vulnerable women seen by themselves in the wilderness would’ve caught anyone’s attention. especially ellie, a young girl who seemingly looks alone and lost. you knew you should’ve fought harder to have her stay with joel whilst you collect supplies. it wasn’t her fault you both got caught in that position, you should’ve warned her.

but it was too late.

you were both locked up in delegate cages across the room from one another. david torments you by talking to ellie. he doesn’t know that you’re not the same scared little girl you were way back when your uncle was still alive, but he will know soon. when his time has come.

he seems giddy as he walks over to her, child-like charm in his step, maybe from all the years he’d snatched it away from other children did he take it for himself. you didn’t understand that before, but you do now. you understand perfectly. you know who he is, what he does, you watched and experienced it for an entire three days.

but, for whatever reason, you’re back in his trap, ellie by your side. making every killer instinct in your body heighten.

you looked over to her. she was sat down whilst you were stood up. she’s looking at you in what you know is fear, and for a second, her face blurs and you’re staring into the eyes of your fourteen year old self. you’re snapped out of it by david telling her to look at him, not you. his hand reaches behind the bars of her cell. that’s when you snap.

“move the fuck away, david.” you hiss, body pressed up against the bars of your cell. he looks at you, smirks, before turning back round to face ellie. you know you’re letting him win by reacting to his psychological torture, this warfare he seems to have mastered countless times, but he doesn’t know who you are now, what you’re capable of. so you showed him.

ellie stood watching as you stabbed him with his own machete. you didn’t notice she was still with you, but ideally, you should’ve known better. you should’ve known she doesn’t go anywhere without you.

you’re crying out, over and over again as you face the brute that is reality as it strikes you in the face, harder than the machete does to david. ellie almost faced the same fate you did, she’s seen too much, she’s been through too much, she’s only a kid. you could’ve done better to protect her. you could’ve-

hands cupping your face stop your train of thoughts and your actions. joel is knelt down next to you, looking at you with such sincerity and love that you can’t even process that his injury is healed and that he’s here. his hands feel so soft, so tender. they are calloused and rough from years of hard labour but the way he holds you suggests differently, like he’s spent a lifetime waiting to hold you.

“baby, look at me.” his texan accent heightened. “sweet girl,” his pointer finger gently taps your cheek “look at me. i got you. ‘s just us, baby, ‘s just us.” you feel ellie by your side again, and you unconsciously lift your arm for her to tuck herself into your side as joel welcomes you both into his waiting arms.

“‘s just us.”

—

you had come back to the house after being out in the school the entire day. you had never considered yourself as someone who liked kids, too sticky and messy for you. ellie was the only exception, and she had been with you since you were a teenager.

maria was opting to give you the job at the school per your request. you wanted something easy, something that didn’t require you to look over your damn shoulder every waking second. you wanted to settle, to rest, to find peace, and you finally had the opportunity to do so in jackson.

when you got to the house that joel, ellie, and yourself were staying at, you didn’t expect to hear shouting. you ran up the stairs, just in time to see joel leave ellie’s room. you glare at him, hitting his shoulder with your own as he walks past. you make your way over to ellie, but you can tell by the way she doesn’t look your way that she wants to be by herself. you whisper to her, before leaving and walking into joel’s room.

“what the fuck was that?” the venomous tone in your voice causes his gaze to snap towards you. “the fuck did you say to her.”

“calm down-”

“calm down? calm down?! you tell me what you said to her right now, joel.” you move towards him, finger pushing into his chest. he sighs, gently moving your hand away.

“started talking to me about loss. she doesn’t know what loss is.” he says with such certainty, like he’s confident in his words and that makes the urge to hit him heighten. joel shakes his head. “ain’t her damn father, either.”

“think about what you’ve just said.”

“darlin-”

“dont darlin’ me! ellie watched her best friend turn into a fucking infected and couldn’t do anything until i showed up! you know how much she begged me not to kill riley?” your eyes tear up. “she begged, pleaded with me, joel. i couldn’t risk it. i couldn’t risk riley hurting her. i couldn’t live with that.” your breathing is erratic. “then tess, then sam and…and you pushing her away isn’t helping.”

you’re angry, you’re in his face practically hissing at him. “we’ve all lost something, joel. she lost her childhood, her best friend. the only people she has right now are me and you, and if you’re not willing to be there, then fucking go! ‘cause i’m staying, with or without you i’m staying with her.” a tear slides down your cheek, and you’re quick to wipe it away.

“you may not be her father, but the way you act with her says otherwise, ‘nd i’m not giving that girl another person to lose. so either stay, or don’t bother. but if you choose the latter…don’t come near us again.”

—

“don’t tempt me, darlin’.” joel smirks, lips lightly grazing your cheek as they make their way back down to your lips. he pecks them one, two, three times before you’re pulling him in for a passionate and heartfelt kiss.

“not doing anything.” you laugh into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers twirling into the bottom of his curled hair and he elicits a hushed groan. “just showing my man some love, that so bad, tex?”

he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. “say your goodbyes, baby, ‘m taking you home.” joel lightly kisses your forehead. “ellie’s staying with dina tonight, means you’re all mine.” he smirks, kissing your forehead again.

“oh really?” you grin, now holding his hand in yours. his smirk widens, and it tells you that he’s not joking. that you have ten seconds to wander off to say your goodbyes or else he’s carrying you over his shoulder out of here. “i’ll be back.”

he watched you walk over to the women, giving them all a gentle hug as you wave your goodbyes. telling them that you best get home before ellie starts to grow concerned. when you’re finished, you walk back over to joel, who wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into him as you walk away.

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere

“i’m scared.” he says. you look up at him, arms folded over your chest. it’s not long after your earlier confrontation about what he said to ellie. you’re both sat across from each other, him sat at the dining room table and you on the sofa.

“about what?” you ask.

“she…i can’t protect her. not like you can. i’m old an…and i’m tired, darlin’. i ain’t made for this, can’t look after myself, let alone a teenage girl and yourself.” he doesn’t look at you whilst he speaks. it’s like he can’t say it to your face, saying it to your face means the truth in his admission and he’s not ready to look into your alluring eyes and face the reality of his feelings.

“you’ve taken care of us pretty damn well, joel.” you sit up, arms no longer folded but bent and resting on your knees.

“but i won’t for much longer. i’m so much older than you, sweetheart, i’m fuckin’ deaf in one ear and i ain’t as sharp as i used to be. ellie needs someone to protect her, ‘s why she’s got you.”

“she has you too.”

“i can’t help her, can’t be the man you need, either.” he takes a deep breath in, and your eyes catch the way his hands slightly tremble. he’s never been like this with anyone, so vulnerable, so open. him and tess seemed to have their own dynamic. business partners, friends, lovers, whatever the fuck it was, but you can tell by the lack of eye contact and body language that he never opened up to her like he’s doing with you right now.

“when…when the dogs were there, smelling her. i knew they smelt something on her, but i didn’t do anything. all i could do was stand there and panic.”

“you couldn’t do anything. any movements we made would’ve made everyone suspicious.” you state.

“couldn’t even protect my own daughter and-” he shakes, you can see the tears in his eyes and he’s not even looking at you. “i failed her, and ‘m gonna fail you both now.”

you stand up immediately, walking over to his chair until you’re stood between his legs. your hands find their place on either side of his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks and brushing away his tears, forcing him to look up at you. you hesitate, but your thumb gently traces the scar on his temple, and you hear him take a sharp breath in at the simple, yet doting touch of the place that marks the darkest time of his life after the death of his daughter.

“you’ve never failed us. not at the beginning, and definitely not now. you’ve done so much to protect us, tex. taking on a fourteen year old girl is a lot, but taking on me, too? well, i have to applaud you for that.” he laughs. “but don’t think i don’t admire you for what you’ve done. hell, most men out there would’ve ditched us when they had the chance but you? you stuck by, guided us, saved us, loved ellie like a daughter. a…and, you’ve made me feel at home.” a soft smile graced your lips. “everything you’ve done for us, been for us? that’s home.”

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere

“i’ve got you.” you say, grabbing his hand, rubbing your hand over the watch. “you didn’t fail sarah, you’ve never failed ellie and you could never fail me.”

“but-”

“no buts. you will never know how proud i am of you and everything you’ve done for us. to open up like this…” you sigh “i just…i’m glad you did.”

he removes his hand from yours, wrapping them both around your waist and pulling you into him. his head rests on your stomach, and your hands find their way into his hair. “home.” he mumbles, and you feel the smile on your chest.

i bet your back can carry more than

just the weight of your button down

one by one they come undone

when we get home

you stand by as you watch joel enter the house. three days, three damn days without him by your side because he was on patrol. you couldn’t blame him, it’s his part in making the community of jackson safe. besides, you knew he’d lose his mind if he had to sit around all day and lack any form of agency. he’d been in this world for too damn long to not find a piece of his mind in protecting others, especially you and ellie.

joel walks over to you, embracing you in a tight hug as he places a small kiss on your forehead. it’s followed by one on your lips, to which he smiles slightly, tipping his forehead so it meets yours. “missed ‘ya so much, darlin’.” his texan drawl makes you laugh.

“missed you too, baby.” you place both hands on either side of joel’s face, pulling back slightly to admire all that is him. his scars, his soul, his heart, everything. “ellie’s missed you too. been waiting on your arrival the entire day.”

joel chuckles, kissing you on the forehead. “i’ll go give her this, then.” he pulls out a book from under his arm, something you completely missed when he entered your house. he holds it up to you, and you read the name. a soft smile graces your lips, and you feel yourself wanting to tear up.

“she’ll love it.” you whisper.

it’s a couple hours later, the three of you having just eaten dinner, and joel and ellie are sat on the couch together. the tv is turned on, but joel is nowhere near paying attention, all of it is on ellie. she reads out the jokes in the joke book he gifted her, he complained about the bad ones, laughed at the good ones, and even shared some of his own.

you find yourself admiring them both, smiling wildly as you watch their dynamic. you knew you had the best relationship with ellie, but nothing could compare to how joel was with her. like a father, he cared and loved her without overstepping ellie’s boundaries.

and that? that’s all you could ever ask for in a man.

i’ve seen you carry family

and all my insecurities

one by one they’ll come undone

when we get home

you stand before joel, blood splattered on your clothes and covered in bruises in visible places. you hated to know how you looked underneath. you sat perched upon the counter in the bathroom as joel runs a cloth under the running tap, dabbing it on your face to remove the dried blood.

it was a patrol gone wrong. you thought you could handle it by yourself, you had done in the past. but when your patrol partner had lured you into a raiders den, it had all gone south from there. they got a fair few hits and wounds onto you before you remembered who you were, and you showed them no mercy.

brown, puppy dog eyes stare down at you, it’s almost comical. a hardened man with the softest expression on his face, all because you were bruised and injured. he sighs, placing the cloth on the side. “need you to take your clothes off, sweetheart. see if there’s any more damage.”

your eyes immediately snap up to meet his, panic arising in your body so much so he saw it in your face. “hey, ‘s okay.” his hand gently cups underneath your jaw, keeping your eyes on his. “ain’t gonna do anything, baby. just need to clean you u-”

“no.” you shake your head feverishly, cutting him off. “no.”

“got to make sure you ain’t hurt anywhere else.” he stares at you, and he looks so concerned and worried that you cave. pulling off your jumper and shirt, stood in your bra and sweatpants, completely exposed.

joel’s eyes trace your body, and you feels his eyes catch the wounds, but the scars that cut across your skin in a variety of places. he stiffens up, hand hesitantly reaching out to gently trace one, much like you had done with his.

he looks up at you when he’s done, stepping closer with his hand on your hip, where the scar his finger had just traced lingered. he tips his forehead to meet yours, both of your eyes closing. “i gotcha, sweet girl. always do.”

he pulls back and grabs the cloth from the sink, running it under water again before he starts to clean the cuts on your body. he traces every scar on your skin, each time making you shudder from the sheer amount of love he dedicates towards you, ensuring your comfort and trust, much like you had done with him.

he’s got you. he always has, always will.

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere

falling on top of you, joel’s hands travel underneath the hem of your dress, pulling down your panties. you sit up, pulling the white dress over your head, now completely naked and bare in front of the man you love.

joel tips your head up so you look at him, admiring your body as you sit naked and bare. he starts to take off his own clothes, pulling you close to him so he hovers of you. he kisses you lips passionately, your arms winding round his neck as you pull him in closer.

he chuckles as you moan when he bites your lip, pulling away to kiss down your neck, your chest, all the way down until he looks up at you, asking for permission.

you nod, and let him ravish you.

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere.

a/n: fun fact, this was gonna end in tlou2 with joel and reader being murdered together but i said no <3

taglist: (if you want to be added, pls message me!!)

@theeblackmedusa @joeldjarin

[honeybeebard]

Helping You Remember (Enver Gortash x DarkUrge!Tav)

Summary// Ever since the crash Tav had been stripped of her memories, with nothing but her name and this violent urge inside her body wreaking havoc with every step she took. It was no small feat to control it, or at least tame it, and just when she thought she had gotten it under control a new foe, or an old ally, comes to remind her where she came from.

(I didn’t expect my first fic in the BG3 fandom to be about Gortash. In fact, I have several half-written projects of other characters but for whatever reason this man has recently taken a hold of me and I’m afraid I’ve sunk too deep. This was originally going to be a one-shot but it’s taken on a life of its own and will now be a multi-chapter!

This first chapter is heavy on angst but the next chapter will be better, I promise! I just imagine this is how your companions would react to the news as well as how Gortash gets his foot in the door of reclaiming you. I hope you like it! I normally write for ACOTAR so this was so much fun!) WARNINGS: Heavy angst, Mentions of past Dark Urge actions

It had been a long, painful journey to get to Baldur’s Gate but Tav had made it. Her companions had made it. Everyone was alive and mostly well, save for the tadpole in their brains, the end of the world, and the recent discovery of Tav’s family history. As they made their way to Wrym’s Rock Fortress it was the only thing her mind could focus on. Astarion, Karlach, and Wyll were all too happy to chat about being back but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she was. 

Bhaalspawn.

Parents throughout Baldur’s Gate told stories of her kind to warn their children of the dangers of the world. She felt all the sins of her kin crawling up her back, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze in fear that they would see her for who she was. A monster. It didn’t matter how hard she fought the Urge inside her… her fate seemed to be already written in the stars. How could she save herself from this? She hadn’t even realized they had made it to the doors of the fortress until Astarion gently nudged her arm, giving her a concerned look as she was torn from her thoughts. “Are you alright, darling? You’re looking a bit clammy.” His voice was smooth but she could see the worry in his eyes. He was the first one she had told when she found out, seeking comfort in his arms just as he had done back in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. They didn’t have an official title to whatever their relationship was, sometimes friends and other times lovers, but they were each other’s closest confidants. He understood her better than herself sometimes and he had assured her that whatever she was facing, he would be there to help. So it pained her to lie through her teeth as she mumbled, “Fine. Let’s just get this over with. Hopefully, we can kill two birds with one stone.” Astarion knew she was lying but didn’t press her further, his shoulders tensing slightly as he gave a curt nod and entered the building with the others. The air was buzzing with excitement as everyone awaited the coronation of Lord Gortash. His posters were everywhere, most people hailing him as a hero, but from what she had heard from Karlach he was anything but that. And especially after discovering him at Moonrise, netherstone in the gauntlet decorating his hand, she only felt that anger within her rise more at the ignorance of the city. There was something else too, like a flash of nostalgia, but it flitted from her mind before she could grasp it. Tav shook her head as they made their way up the stairs, preparing for anything as they arrived at the grand hall.

Rows of seats lined the sides as a dark red carpet decorated the ground, leading all the way up to where Duke Ravengard and Gortash stood. Wyll visibly bristled at the sight of his father, his hand steady on the edge of his blade while Karlach slowly began to grow hotter and hotter at the sight of her former friend. 

“I can practically taste his blood from here.” Karlach seethed, her fists clenching. Astarion gave Tav a worrying look, wondering if now, underneath the watchful gaze of multiple Flaming Fists and the Steel Watch, was the right time to pick a fight.

Tav gave him a reassuring smile, turning to Karlach with a solemn expression. “I know you want nothing more than to rip his heart out but here might not be the best place to do it. Let’s hear him out first.” She speaks slowly, hoping to calm the tiefling. 

“Hear him out? He speaks nothing but lies! There is nothing he could say that could be of use to us.” Karlach snarls, turning her heated eyes to her and frowning. 

“Just trust me on this, okay?” Tav pleaded. “I promise that you will be the first one to rip him limb from limb.”

She seemed to calm slightly at Tav’s reassurance, her flames dulling as she nodded once. “I’ll hold you to that, soldier.” Karlach says, following in step as the four of them begin to walk up the aisle.

Gortash is the first to spot them, his lips turning up in a smile as he spies Karlach first. “My eyes must be deceiving me! Karlach, my dear girl, come and be welcome.” His voice was dripping with arrogance, his arms spread wide in greeting. 

“I’m not your dear anything!” Karlach snaps, her hand immediately falling to her weapon. However, just as Tav tries to step in front of them, his dark eyes turn to her and widen in surprise.

“And with you, my, why it’s my favorite bhaalspawn!” He grins as he comes closer to Tav, eyeing her up and down. “I never thought I would see you again either.”

“Wait, you know each other?” Karlach frowns, turning to look at Tav with betrayal in her eyes. 

“I swear I have no memory of him Karlach. I would’ve told you.” She stresses, holding up her hands in innocence while shaking her head rapidly. 

“Oh, I’d forgotten,” Gortash says smugly, chuckling to himself. “Your memories are quite lost aren’t they? Orin told me she’d made a fool of you. And to think you two have traveled together all this time and she hadn’t the faintest idea that you were one of my nearest and dearest.”

This time it was Astarion who spoke, his eyes hard as his jaw clenched. “What do you mean nearest and dearest?” There was a sense of urgency under his tone, something that Tav felt as well as she tried desperately to remember what Gortash already knew.

The dark-haired Lord smirked, taking a deep breath as he turned back to Tav and began to tell fill in the missing puzzle pieces of her memory. “You and I initiated this plot. No one could stand against the Dead Three so, after obtaining the crown, enslaving the brain, and creating a false God to rule the masses, there was little to stand in our way.”

Tav stumbled back a step, her head throbbing and pulse racing. No, she couldn’t have. She couldn’t have formed this plot, couldn’t have worked with Gortash. It wasn’t who she was. Was it? 

“No. I would never.” She whispered, her eyes full of anger while Gortash ignored her and carried on weaving the tale. 

“In Bhaal’s name, you set your bloody dagger to cause panic in the streets, killing in the Absolute’s name,” He smiled again as if recalling a fond memory. It made her want to vomit. “It was all going well until you had vanished, Orin claiming to be the new voice of Bhaal and taking over. She, unlike you, couldn’t control herself. She made a mess of things.”

Her stomach lurched, her knees buckling as bits and pieces of her past flashed through her mind. The blood, the screams, the wicked smile of her reflection as she all but bathed in the slain bodies of the innocent. Astarion noticed her trembling, reaching out to steady her as she tried to block out everything. 

“Have you gone soft?” Gortash asked as he stepped closer to Tav, examining her guilt filled gaze with a disappointed look. “I find that hard to believe. One’s true nature will always rise to the top.”

“That is not my true nature.” She hissed through gritted teeth, rage heating her blood as she pushed out of Astarion’s grasp and walked towards the man before her. “Take it back. Tell me you’re lying.”

“I know you know the truth, Tav.” He coos as if talking to a startled babe. “I can see it in your eyes. That Urge deep within you, clawing at its cage to be unleashed. We had something great, are something great, until you were taken. I tolerated Orin, tolerated Ketheric, but I liked you. We can still finish this together.”

As he finishes his sentence one of his hands comes up to rest on her arm, an intimate gesture that sends feelings of disgust and warmth through her body. She hated this, hated him, hated how little control she felt. Once again she felt a battle in her body between the past and the present. 

“Don’t touch me.” Tav growls, pulling away from him as if she had been burned. “I want nothing to do with you, with this plot. If anything this has only solidified my plans to kill you.”

She could feel Karlach’s approval from behind her, could feel her own body tensing for a fight only to falter when Gortash barked out a harsh laugh. 

“Oh, my dear bhaalspawn, you have no choice.” His eyes were suddenly hard and his tone like ice as he gestured around him. “The quakes are a clear warning. Without all three netherstones ruling the brain, it will break free and complete the Grand Design. Your choices are to join me and rule or subject this entire city, yourself and companions included, to becoming illithids.”

All of her companions shifted uneasily, looking at Tav for guidance. She tried to run through all the scenarios, looking for an out that didn’t include digging herself further into her past self, but the choices remained the same. 

“Together though,” Gortash straightens, giving her a charming smile. “Together we can control the brain. Renew our old partnership.”

“What kind of partnership?” Tav asked cautiously, hating how weak she sounded. Astarion cleared his throat beside her, pleading with her not to do this, but she ignored him. If she was going to find another way out of this she at least needed to get all angles of the problem…and that started with hearing Gortash’s bargain. 

“Let’s discuss it somewhere more private, hm? Away from the prying eyes of both nobles and…your group.” He looked behind her distastefully. “Meet me in my office after the ceremony. Alone.”

And before she can say another word he struts back to the middle of the room, letting the Duke continue with the blasphemous ceremony. Tav immediately motions for her friends to follow her towards the back, ignoring the words of Wyll’s father as she finally takes a moment to breathe.

“You can’t possibly be considering partnering with him.” Astarion huffs. “Please tell me you aren’t that stupid.”

“Look at what he’s done to this city, to my father,” Wyll adds, crossing his arms. “An alliance with Gortash is like asking to be stabbed in the back. He cannot be trusted.” “You’re damn right he can’t be trusted!” Karlach fumes, gnashing her teeth together. “That man is worse than a devil, Tav! He’s just trying to get in your head!”

“Enough!” Tav snapped, rubbing her temples as the pounding returned. Everyone’s opinions, including Gortash’s, were starting to make her head spin. “I know this is…a lot. I can’t process it all myself-”

“What, that you and Gortash created this entire cult, this entire problem that is threatening the lives of millions of people?” Karlach’s voice was rising with each word, her flames growing by the second. “I knew you were a bhaalspawn but Bhaal’s chosen? You are half the bloody reason we are here in the first place!”

“Karlach-” Wyll tries to intervene but she brushes him off, stalking towards Tav and jamming a red hot finger in her chest.

“No, don’t Karlach me.” She snarls, glaring down at her. “Did you not hear what she has done? The acts she committed in Bhaal’s name? Amnesia or not, you all have to see how dangerous she is.”

“I’m not!” Tav protested, tears pricking her eyes as she felt their gazes on her. It was her worst fear realized. “I’m not a monster, I don’t remember doing any of those things. I would never…”

“And yet here you are, ready to make nice with the viper.” Karlach spits, standing to her full height while regarding her with revulsion. “I need time to think.” 

Before Tav can say anything or reach out to plead for forgiveness, she storms off back to the entrance. Wyll looks between the two of them, his eyes full of sadness before he simply shakes his head and follows Karlach. The only one left is Astarion who is staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“Star…” She whispers, throat tight as she tries to reach for him only to physically recoil when he moves away from her hand. It wasn’t much, just a slight sway to the side, but it was enough to make the knife in her gut twist deeper. “Please.”

“I…I need a moment.” He murmurs, bowing his head before following the same path as her companions. Tav can’t stop herself from sinking to the floor, her soul aching as she brings her knees to her chest and cries. She doesn’t care that she’s in a room full of nobles, doesn’t care that everyone is watching her finally break, she just doesn’t care anymore.

Her friends, her entire world ever since escaping that damned nautiloid, had abandoned her. They had found out who she had been and had left her here, alone. Tav wanted to hate them, wanted to curse them, and never see them again, but could she blame them?

She was part of the reason this was all happening in the first place. She had caused all this pain, all this death, in the name of her father. Even if she didn’t remember it that didn’t absolve her of the guilt. If roles were reversed, she would probably question her relationship with the person as well.

“It’s all my fault.” She whispers, pressing her palms against her eyes harshly. The tears were hot as they ran down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking. Tav was so caught up in her emotions she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching her.

It wasn’t until she felt cold, metal claws tip her chin up that she finally came to her senses, blinking up at the man who had just revealed all her immoral acts as if they were nothing. 

“My poor little bhaalspawn,” He purred, using his other hand to pull her up to stand. “All alone again.”

Tav sniffled, feeling vulnerable as he wiped a tear away with his thumb. Her entire body felt numb as he pulled her into his arms, shushing her with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Come.” He ordered. “Let me save you once more.” 

[konigbabe]

the version of you and me

Pairing: John Price x fem!reader

Word count: 4.6k

Tags/Warnings: smut; nsfw; angst and feels; age gap; gendered terminology; female anatomy; alcohol; cunnilingus; oral sex (fem receive); safe sex; protected sex; soft sex; love making; feelings realization; smut wiht feelings

Summary: John was a beacon, a lighthouse that kept you safe and warm in the raging storms of life. He was the one constant in your life, the one person you could always count on. No matter what happened in your life, he was there for you and that made all the difference.

A/N: Not sure whether this should be also classified as angst - what do you think? Requested by @sinclxirx. Part of my A to Z kinks game [A is for Age Gap].

Song associated: To Be Alone by Hozier

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

That night, embraced in his presence, you felt like you were drowning. Drowning in an endless abyss of feelings. His eyes were dark pools of emotion, and you felt yourself falling into them, unable to resist; his touch gentle, as if he was trying to capture the essence of your soul; his lips inviting and you felt his warmth radiating through your entire body. You felt safe, secure, and so incredibly alive.

His lips followed the curves of your collarbones, caressing each crevice of your body. Soft grunts, words of adoration and praise flew from his mouth as he worshipped you to your highs, prolonging the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, underneath him, between his fingers.

They were here again.

He was here again.

Similar crew to the last time, few changed; they always do. Sitting at the other side of the pub, side by side, he sat closest to you - his men by his right. Music surrounded you like a cloud of smoke, the same old songs with a new beat. The conversation ebbed and flowed between them like the tide of the sea, and you found yourself drawn to them; like always.

Only his name was a constant though; years of seeing the familiar face, the same blue eyes, eyes squinting, wrinkles pooling around them as he smiled, laughed occasionally. Him and the skull face; they called him Ghost, you learned early on - other soldiers respected him, he respected him. During your first shifts, that man was someone you avoided like the devil himself; but he was indifferent to you, reverent even.

Soon enough, you found yourself drawn to him and the captain. The two of them a comfort zone during long shifts; as you served the soldiers, avoiding their touches, slaps and whistles; these two offered peace in their silence and nonchalance.

Over the years, your eyes started to search his whenever you entered the pub. John Price, his name a sweet melody, as sweet as honey on your tongue. He was a lieutenant back then; back when you got to know him first.

“What’s with the sad face, darling?” he’d ask one day. Sitting at the pub, he came with a woman; a pretty one, around his age, a civilian; based on her clothes. American, you deduced.

Never before you attempted to have a conversation with any soldier at the pub; most of them left too drunk out of their minds to ever remember you, you believed. He wasn’t one of them - he’d start with a glass of bourbon on ice, savoring the bittersweet taste as the rest of his crew drank one pint of beer after another.

The woman left soon after he introduced himself; John.

Since then, he was the reason you looked forward to your job. The conversations grew longer. Deeper. More meaningful. He offered you a hand in friendship and you took it. It was a friendship that was built on trust and understanding, and it was something that you treasured. Your life was changing constantly; people came and went as you lived through university. He was that one constant in it.

John was the first person to congratulate you on your degree; you were the first outside military to congratulate him on becoming captain. He watched you grow, celebrated your achievements with you. You, in turn, helped him as he stepped into a leadership role. Always there for him, offering words of encouragement, advice, and support. You both had each other's back; yet you never saw each other outside that dimly lit pub - with a front pub separating each and every conversation. Or it used to be like that.

Later on, you started wondering if him being a captain was something you should applaud him for. His visits to the pub became less frequent. Deployments started to be longer. The people, his crew, changed constantly. He aged; not only with time - worry and the weight of his decisions had taken their toll. He grew a beard, it suited him though. His voice became rougher. Stern. Demanding.

The role of captain suited him; there was no doubt, but it took away the John you once knew. He had to take on a mantle of authority and honor, and it came with a certain amount of gravity and seriousness. But, despite all of this, he still had a good heart beneath it all.

A pang of pain occasionally exploded in your chest when you saw some of his team members at the pub. But not him. The worst-case scenarios always wandered into your brain, but you still had hope. Praying for the best, you focused on what was within your control at the time.

When he came, you’d stay with him. It was a routine you developed quietly; he’d stay and wait for your shift to be over, you’d sit by his side after, a drink in your hand as you talked the night away. He’d tell you about his adventures, people he’d met - not in detail, he wasn’t allowed to do that; he talked vaguely about everything as if he was reciting a movie.

Those moments were like an anchor to you. It was your own little world, and you were content in it. John was a beacon, a lighthouse that kept you safe and warm in the raging storms of life. He was the one constant in your life, the one person you could always count on. No matter what happened in your life, he was there for you and that made all the difference.

Then you’d part your ways. He would always leave last, sending you off into the night with a good night.

The more you got to know the captain, the more intrigued you became by him. The friendship blossomed, sometimes becoming the talk of his crew; they’d sneak looks at you, whisper among themselves (especially those you learned to be Johnny and Gaz), sharing a knowing smile and you knew; you knew that they knew.

He didn’t know. Or at least never acknowledged it.

Eventually, your conversations outgrew the walls of the pub and you found yourself on the chilly streets of London, laughing and talking about the day's events.

Gaz’s words of encouragement echoed in your mind, alcohol rushing through your veins as you walked through the city. The streetlights shone on the cobblestone streets, illuminating your path. John talked most of the time, your eyes staring at the night sky; stars barely visible.

It took years for John to find out where you lived; yet you never knew much about him in that way, you realized. He had a girl back when he was a lieutenant, that much he told you. That didn’t last long for him as his job took most of his life away, taking the girl away too.

John never dared to cross the doorstep. Your doorstep. The first time you asked, it was an innocent invite; it was extremely late, almost an early morning, and in the middle of January, the coldest time to be in London, and you felt bad letting him go into the bitter cold. Not knowing where he lived, where his home was, you didn’t know if he’d get any sleep before work; at your place, he could at least take a nap.

He retreated; with a thank you and have a good night, he was gone.

The second time, your intentions differed. Walking side by side, arms linked, his gloves warmed your freezing hands; he kept his own in his pockets as he walked you home; he seemed to always do that as of lately.

Each step brought you closer to him. Joined at hips, you cherished the moment. The beanie, his beanie, messed up your hair but you didn’t mind. You watched as he talked, a cloud of cold breeze surrounding his blueish lips as cold nicked at his face. Face illuminated by the ring of light cast by his cigar that he pulled from his jacket when you left the pub; the chilly night was filled with sweet smoke billowing from his mouth.

His words quickly dissipated into the darkness of midnight. Eyes fixated on the way his lips wrapped around the head of the cigar, you watched as he sucked the smoke in before exhaling it out of his lungs, the smoke curling up in the air, creating a mesmerizing show of shapes and figures before eventually melding with the night sky.

It felt like a fever dream for a moment, John’s side profile blurry, the golden glow of the cigar contrasting with the inky darkness of the night and the faint stars twinkling in the background.

The bright blue of his eyes seemed to sparkle with a certain kind of warmth as he looked at you; the stillness of the London streets was almost deafening, the only sound being John’s steady footsteps echoing in the night air as you made your way home.

“You wanna try?” he tipped the cigar your way, “it’ll warm ya up.”

The warm twinkle emanating from his eyes seemed to draw you in. Shaking your head, you murmured, “I shouldn’t smoke, it’s bad for your health.”

His arm shook as he laughed, the sound of his amusement vibrant and joyful.

He leaned onto your side, his hand still cradling the rich brown cigar, and said, “I worry about your health, too. But sometimes it’s nice to do something just a little bit wrong, don’t you think?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief and his lips curled into a mischievous smirk. You couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement as you looked into his eyes, and you found yourself considering his offer.

“Just this once,” you raised a finger. He nodded, the familiar close-lip smile appearing on his face.

Turning the cigar’s head towards you, your fingers wrapped reluctantly around it. With a lick to wet your lips, you brought the cigar to your mouth, feeling the strange texture against your tongue. The taste of tobacco filled your senses; a touch of earthiness, a faint taste of sweet, soft spicy note.

You felt the unfamiliar sensation of the smoke, and the slight sting of the burning embers. It was a strange experience, one that left you feeling overwhelmed, yet strangely satisfied. As smoke filled your lungs, you could feel the heat of the burning embers and the sharpness of the smoke as it seared through your airways, ending with a convulsive cough.

“You’re not supposed to swallow,” John chuckled, taking the cigar from your shaking hand and letting it sit on his own tongue.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you tried explaining between each cough; a flurry of emotions coursed through you as you finally took a deep breath, the smoke lingering in your lungs and the taste of the cigar still on your tongue.

Though you hadn't enjoyed it in the way you had hoped, you found yourself strangely content with the experience.

“Maybe next time you’ll get it right, darling,” his smile warm and reassuring.

The walk home halted when you reached your door. The ritual stayed the same; John swayed behind you and you could swear you felt his hot breath on your neck as you reached for the keys, Gaz’s words swirling inside your otherwise dizzy head while you put the keys inside the lock.

“He has absolutely no reason to say no.”

“Just ask, the world won’t end if he says no.”

“Okay, if he doesn’t accept, I’ll take you out, honey.”

A smile crept on your lips, Gaz’s encouragement mingling with the alcohol in your veins like two dancing flames. The door creaked as you opened them, stepping inside and turning to face your companion; the captain himself.

His hands stayed in the pockets of his jacket, a faint pink tint ran across his cheeks. Even in civil, John radiated with authority and control. The aura demanding. Presence captivating. His eyes followed your every move, ensuring you safely entered your flat; your own intoxication made you stumble a bit as you shifted your weight against the door.

“Do you, maybe, want to come in?” you asked, almost mumbling, “grab a cuppa?”

The blue of his eyes pierced yours, face stern. Impassive. Giving nothing away. His thoughts unknown. He understood what you were asking, what you truly desired.

The silence stretched, feeling like an eternity; and you knew. There was no need for an answer, no more. You did it. And now there was no going back; but neither going forward as John looked at you with anguish, sympathy.

“Maybe ‘nother time,” no darling, “I have early work.”

A mask of a smile graced his face, but his eyes screamed the truth. Trying to figure out his thoughts felt like searching for a needle in a haystack. Dizzy and tired, you forced a smile on your face. Deep down you were aware of just how badly you messed up; years of your most precious friendship, a companionship of your dreams, shattered in a minute - even less than it.

Dread spread through you the day you were meant to return to work. He’d be there, he always was. And you'd have to confront the truth. His beanie, accompanied by the gloves he kindly lent you, laid still in your locker.

A week trickled away.

Two weeks soon became a month; that month spilled into two, followed by another.

The pub seemed to stay in time, familiar faces showing up every other week. Yet, no sign of him; your head spun with a whirlwind of emotions and questions. It felt like your heart was sinking into an endless sea of doubt.

Seventeen weeks.

Four months.

That was how long it took until your heart leaped as a familiar figure stepped into the pub, followed by a group of others. Eyes glued to the men, you watched them taking their seats.

All three of them looked at you with weary eyes, yet they managed to offer you a reassuring smile, telling you that everything was alright, that he was fine; simply running late due to all the paperwork. A wave of relief swept over you like a summer breeze, calming your anxious heart a little. At least he was safe…all of them were.

Eventually, they left; he never came.

Or at least you thought.

Stepping into the cold spring night, you registered the same aura, the one you were so accustomed to, before noticing his silhouette. Still, partly in his uniform, he stood near the entrance, fingers wrapped around his cigar like a lifeline, smoke curling around him in a gentle embrace.

“Well hello there, stranger,” he said casually.

“John,” the door clicked behind you, “I thought you were avoiding me.”

He let out a long, low breath, his used cigar dropping into the ashtray bin with a soft thud.

“Wouldn’t miss our midnight strolls for all the tea in England, darling.”

Soft smile decorated his face, the blue in his eyes twinkling like the starry night sky above you; his gaze filled with a sense of comity. Tenderness.

The walk remained peaceful; comforting silence followed your footsteps as he lead you through the city. The fall back into your routine seemed seamless, coherent; making you question what was about to come.

The doorstep separated John and you, but you felt a lingering sadness in the air that could not be ignored. The moment seemed to stretch on endlessly, a bittersweet taste on your tongue; wondering whether you should ask him again.

He came back to you. Seemingly not heaved by the weight of your question like you were for the past weeks.

His words exceeded your mind as he asked, “May I come in?”

Hand on the door handle, eyes boring into his, you stepped to the side. A hand wrapped around your heart and squeezed; hard and heavy. As you watched him enter your flat, his back stayed turned to you, eyes scanning your home for the first time.

A wave of emotions crashed over you; nervousness, anticipation, expectation. Excitement. Your heart raced as you waited for him to turn around and face you. When he finally did, the warmth of his smile melted away all the tension.

The doors chilled your skin through the clothes as you leaned on them, watching John take a step toward you.

He reached out his hand and touched your face, tracing the curve of your jawline with his fingertips. His eyes bore into yours and you felt like you were floating in a dream. The energy between you was palpable and you desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel his warmth and love. But you stood still, almost afraid to break the spell.

“I’m sorry,” his words felt distant as your heartbeat echoed in your ears.

“For what?”

You weren’t sure the words even came out but his answer ensured that they did.

“For not explaining myself better,” he reassured you, the feeling of his breath fanning over your heated cheeks as you swallowed the bile in your throat, “I just- couldn’t bring myself to it.”

The warmth of his hand stayed on the side of your neck, thumb hooking underneath your chin to bring your face closer. Hands squeezing the door handle, his lips brushed over yours; silently asking for permission.

“You were just there, so fuckin’ inviting,” he closed his eyes, leaning against your forehead, “and I just knew, Christ, I knew I couldn’t do it to you.”

“John,” his name was a mere exhale swallowed by his lips as he breathed you in. His leg moved between your legs, thigh pressing against your aching core. Chest smushed against yours, belt digging into your abdomen; his presence was suffocating, yet you welcomed it.

“I didn’t want to be a dick for leaving,” his eyes remained closed, thumb swiping over your chin before moving upwards, the tip of his fingertip brushing over your parted lips, “knew I was goin’ away for months and you had to ask that night. That bloody night.”

Invisible strings pulled you towards the man before you. Lips pressing against his; the scratch of his beard tingled against your upper lip. Your body was on fire. Months of pent-up loneliness, solitude, slowly bottling up to the point where just his lips, just the brush of them against yours, ignited a wildfire inside you.

The kiss was more of a peck. Testing the waters.

“Stay tonight,” you could feel his beard tickle your lips from the close proximity of his body as you whispered the plea. His eyes finally opened, staring into yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

His fingertips traced the side of your face, skimming over the heated flesh of your cheekbones before resting on each side of your neck.

“I’d love to.”

A gentle nudge sent your face into him; lips smashing against John’s in a desperate kiss. Hands hopelessly gripping his sides. Head filled with dizziness, completely succumbing to the moment. The heat of his skin melted you away; compliant to his every move as if he was pulling you down into his depths.

Tongue gently grazing your lips, a content moan escaped you. Taking the opportunity, you felt him slide into your mouth; soft and delicate, brushing over your teeth before twisting with your tongue. The kiss was like a drug, a seductive intoxication that left you wanting more.

His lips moved against yours with a passionate intensity, as if his very life depended on the connection between the two of you; electrifying, sending sparks of pleasure cascading through every part of your body. You felt as if you were melting into him, becoming one with him, until nothing else mattered. The heat of his embrace was intoxicating.

Hand moving into his jacket, you could feel his heartbeat on your palm; it felt like his heart was racing with yours, quick beats drumming against your skin. Time seemed to freeze, all while his lips moved over yours, grunts and moans filling the otherwise quiet midnight air.

An arm snuck behind your back, tightening around you; pressing your body into his as if he wanted to consume you all. The kiss became messy quickly, hands moving, touching everywhere they could reach until suddenly; somehow, your legs were wrapped around his narrow hips, feeling the bones dig into your thighs, one arm hoisting you up as the other held the back of your head, cradling it like a precious treasure.

“Bed-” his attempt to speak failed, “bedroom,” he tried asking between the kisses; your hungry lips didn’t allow him much space. His mouth devoured yours with a hunger that seemed to grow with each passing second, his tongue exploring and tasting every inch of you as if it was the first and last time he'd ever got to do it.

“Down the hall, the only door to the right,” you pulled away to catch your breath, eyes closed in a blissful moment; John’s mouth latching on your throat as he maneuvered through your flat before opening the door. Cool air hits your overheated skin.

Opening your eyes in surprise, you look around before a chuckle left your kiss-stained lips.

“My right, not yours,” you almost moaned as John sucked at the sensitive skin on your neck, “we’re in my bathroom.”

“Christ,” he mumbled against your flesh, “clear instructions next time.”

Turning around, John almost bashed your doors open. Everything felt like a fever dream; the moment his lips captured yours in the first kiss to now, spread open for him like a blossoming flower, pure and yet-to-be-stained by his blood-red hands.

Completely naked, laying before him as if you were an empty canvas, awaiting the brushstrokes of his touch. His lips traced the skin of your inner thighs, kisses and bites sending shivers through your body; tongue exploring, tasting, and teasing until you were lost in a sea of pleasure.

The rough caress of his hand moved along your wrist, fingers intertwining with yours; reassuring squeeze, a swipe of his thumb over the soft skin of your palm. His beard stung in places, teeth sinking into the apex of your thighs, breath fanning over your soaking core, the cold breeze causing electricity to run through you as he skipped your center and moved to the other leg.

His name left your lips in a whimper, back arched and hips pushing towards his mouth, begging him to finally touch you. To feel you. To taste you.

The room was dark, lit only by the street lamp near your window; looking down between your legs, you could see John’s silhouette, hair messy from your desperate attempts to hold onto him as he kissed away your sanity; cogency.

Your breath hitched at the sight of his eyes, dark and brooding like a stormy sky; the blue oceans turning into tidal waves, crashing against your desire, the urgency to feel him; to feel anything he was willing to give you.

So pretty, so fuckin’ pretty.

His own affirmations of reality spiraled around you, creating a frenzy of longing, surging through your veins the same way hot metal surges through a forge; those words weren’t meant for you.

Wet on wet; his tongue laid flat against your soaking core before he kissed your folds, delving into the depths of your innermost. Devouring you like a ravenous beast. Back arched, hips pushed into him, you felt like he was everywhere; the smell of sandalwood, the taste of tobacco and spice, the scorching feel of his touch leaving a trail on your body, heat spreading underneath the flesh, warming the room.

A cascade of fucks, Christs, moans, and his name fell from your lips. The moment the Captain escaped your lips in a frenzied whimper, his fingers curled upwards, dots of white swirling in your eyesight as he thrust his fingers to the place that made you basically scream, plead for him to finally fuck the living soul out of you, to fill you up with his warmth and attentiveness, to take you to that place where nothing else mattered.

A blanket of darkness overtook your body, chest rising as your lungs seemed to forget how to function. The tight knot in your abdomen releasing a wave of pleasure inside you. John’s lips remained wrapped around your aching clit, tongue lapping at the nub with utter finesse, fingers stroking your gummy walls; eyes burning into your face as he watched your body reach its high.

A feeling of accomplishment flooded his veins; he did it, he finally did it; did you to be precise. His head swirled with all kinds of thoughts of you, the way your body reacted to his touch like it was starved for him. Did you deny yourself when he wasn’t around?

The tip of his tongue trailed between your breasts, feeling the burning skin underneath the wet muscle; still covered in your own juices, he painted you - tainted your skin with his filthy hands.

“Please tell me you have condoms,” he pleaded, voice raw with need as his tongue flicked against your earlobe before taking it into his mouth, tugging it ever so lightly. His body was like a furnace, enveloping you in its blistering heat.

Head spinning, utterly fucked up already, it took you a moment to process that he had spoken.

“Nightstand,” your lips searched for his skin, “my left.”

You felt him chuckle more than you heard it, mouth latched onto his collarbones as he stretched his body. Coarse hair of his chest scratching against your sensitive nipples, eliciting a moan.

Mind hazy, everything felt foggy yet so overwhelming; one moment, he asked you if you wanted to get the condom on, seeing your pupils blown, lips swollen and legs desperately locking his hips against you - so out of your mind, high on him; you were high on Captain Price - so he took the charge.

Then his hands landed on your ribs, thumb caressing the underside of your breasts, as his cock split you open in a slow, agonizingly taunting motion. Fingertips traced your side, gliding over the curve of your waist, the soft plump flesh of your hips, sending sparkles through your veins as it moved to your thigh, stroking its full length while he stayed seated deep inside you; he would pay anything in the world to see you like this again; so pliable, absolutely at his mercy.

Moving torturously slow, as if he was punishing you; savoring every inch of you against him, drawing filthy moans, his name, his rank out of your lips before capturing them in a bruising, messy kiss. All teeth, biting and grasping against each other while he rutted into you with a leisurely pace, hand resting on your thigh, the other stroking your cheek - you were so good to him, so tight, so pretty, so fuckin’ wet and pretty. Made for him, for his cock, to warm his bed, to be by his side in the morning, to kiss him goodbye as he deployed and be his welcome kiss as he left the gates of the headquarters as he returned.

That night, embraced in his presence, you felt like you were drowning. Drowning in an endless abyss of feelings. His eyes were dark pools of emotion, and you felt yourself falling into them, unable to resist; his touch gentle, as if he was trying to capture the essence of your soul; his lips inviting and you felt his warmth radiating through your entire body. You felt safe, secure, and so incredibly alive.

His lips followed the curves of your collarbones, caressing each crevice of your body. Soft grunts, words of adoration and praise flew from his mouth as he worshipped you to your highs, prolonging the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, underneath him, between his fingers.

His embrace never left you, not when he had your legs over his shoulders, heels digging into the flexing muscles of his back; not when he kissed you with a new-found passion as his hips rutted into yours in a steady rhythm, or when John crumbled underneath you, feeling the tight squeeze of your core as he reached his own high, hands grasping at your hips to guide you onto him, to let you know not to dare to stop.

Laying in his arms, hair freshly washed, skin glowing with that newfound orgasmic afterglow, he told you about his time away, the people he’d met; the same way as if you were back in the pub - but this time, you were at your home, feeling the heat of the captain’s naked skin against you, lips pressed against your temple as his fingers casually stroked your arm.

Oh, to be alone with you….

[antianakin]

Am I the only one who just lost any and all love for newer Star Wars material due to Jedi hate ? Like- the only merch or show or even FANDOM topic I get involved in is clone wars stuff and MAYBE TBB. Like- why would I want the watch shows who attempt to rewritte canon and portray the very heroes of Star Wars as the bad guys ?

Why would I want to watch shows that assassinate characters left and right (looking at you, Ahsoka and Sabine) ? Why would I want to buy merch of characters who I not only NOT care about, but who also are used as meta mouthpieces for stupid Jedi hate ?

I think there's TONS of good newer Star Wars material, to be honest.

I loved the Kenobi show and it is arguably one of the most pro Jedi pieces of media to have existed since the Prequels films. Aside from one itty bitty somewhat awkward word choice in one line of one episode, there is absolutely NOTHING in that show that can be used to indict the Jedi or blame them for anything and it is arguably one of the only shows to really spend time MOURNING the Jedi and recognizing the horror of what was done to them. Rebels comes closest after this, but its structure makes it a little less visceral than the Kenobi show was to me.

I really adore Visions and I recognize that this is sort-of Star Wars adjacent more than anything else, but SO LITTLE truly understands what makes Star Wars compelling as a story and really hits on those primary themes the way that Visions does. There's SO MUCH Jedi content in Visions and I remember people complaining about how much Jedi content was in Visions and other people responding that if you were given free reign to just play in the Star Wars sandbox with near zero restrictions on what you could make with it, you would probably ALSO immediately go for the psychic space wizards with laser swords. Who WOULDN'T? Visions also just genuinely has some of the most engaging and heart-wrenching stories to come out of Star Wars in a LONG while and it does it in these beautifully animated 15 minute packages. It's such a gem and I am so glad to be alive at the same time as Visions.

Rogue One is older now, but both Rogue One and Andor, despite having zero actual Jedi in them, really hinge on the themes from the Prequel trilogy about the tragedy in the Star Wars universe, stepping up when no one else will, choosing to be selfless and compassionate for the greater good, etc. Faith and hope are MASSIVE themes within these two works and even though there aren't any space wizards, good or evil, in either story, they feel like some of the most pro Jedi things Star Wars has come out with in a while based on thematic messages ALONE.

The Mandalorian's first two seasons actually have this absolutely BEAUTIFUL story about the selfless sacrifice of one man as he gives up everything in order to help this child find his way back to the culture he'd been ripped from. Everything AFTER that regarding Grogu and Din's storyline is a piece of shit (it's not explicitly anti-Jedi or anything, but it undoes a lot of the things that made their story so compelling and beautiful), but the first two seasons are genuinely GOOD and very pro Jedi in a lot of ways despite the lack of many actual Jedi characters.

The Book of Boba Fett is a terrible show for a LOT of reasons, but shockingly none of them have anything to do with its treatment of the Jedi. If it ever ends up with a season two, I desperately hope they leave Mace Windu's name the fuck out of it, but at this point it is a pretty Jedi neutral show if you're willing to deal with the rest of its bullshit.

Rebels is also somewhat older now, and it has a few lines here and there that are a tad more Jedi critical, but it is by and large VERY Jedi positive and does also follow a lot of the themes of selflessness and sacrifice that go along with being a Jedi. It also has themes of mercy and patience and facing your fears in Sabine's storyline that got entirely thrown away in her later storyline. Just thought that was worth pointing out. For reasons.

TBB is also fairly Jedi neutral, but its treatment of the clones is basically the clone version of being anti Jedi, so I'm not sure it's actually any better. It just traded hating on the Jedi to hating on the clones, and I find that just as distasteful.

I can't really speak to things like comics and novels much since I don't tend to consume them really. I've read a few of the adult novels in the High Republic Phase I and the first one was genuinely very good, but there were some relatively heavy-handed Jedi critical themes within the third book of Phase I (The Fallen Star) that put me off of it a little. I haven't continued into Phase II or III at all, so I have no idea if those themes got continued in later books. I've heard generally good things about the Padawan book, I think.

The Cal Kestis video games, Fallen Order and Survivor, also have their small Jedi critical moments, but much like Rebels, it has these massive overarching themes and messages about compassion and selflessness and sacrifice and facing your fears and mercy. They are immensely Jedi positive in a lot of ways and I really enjoyed both of them.

So out of everything I have seen (and know about) the only stuff that's truly heinously and insultingly anti-Jedi is the Ahsoka show, the Acolyte, and Tales of the Jedi. Three shows and like 30% of one book. Out of a list of like ten different shows and one film and some books and video games. It's not even really HALF of the content we've been getting recently.

A lot of people talk about the Disney era like it's ruined Star Wars, or like nothing it releases has ever been good. But it just straight up isn't true. It's a little insulting to all of the genuinely wonderful work that is being done by all of these other creators to just brush aside everything that's been coming out recently as awful and bad because some of the MOST recent things have been pretty explicitly hateful towards the Jedi. It's not fun that we had the Ahsoka show immediately followed by the Bad Batch followed by the Acolyte. I hate that, too, it feels like we're on this neverending shitshow of stories explicitly aimed at hating a group of characters for no obvious good reason. But I don't think that the last 6 months or so of bullshit should overshadow some of the really beautiful stories we HAVE gotten within the last several years.

If you feel like things are getting difficult, maybe do a "good Star Wars" marathon of sorts. Watch the Prequels, followed by the Kenobi show, then Andor, then Rebels, then Rogue One, then the Original trilogy. This one long beautiful story of people stepping up to fight against selfishness and greed and darkness no matter what.

Or go rewatch Visions or read some of your favorite fanfics and remember all the things about Star Wars that are just universally cool and compelling across the world. Hell, you can try writing something of your own! Anything! A lot of my AU concepts stemmed from spite and really helped me feel a little bit better about Star Wars when it sometimes felt like I was just surrounded by the parts of it I liked the least. Go buy yourself a cool t-shirt or some fun jewelry. Find some pretty stickers and put it on a water bottle or an enamel pin to put on a canvas tote bag or a corkboard.

Curating your fandom experience goes beyond just the internet. There's a reason I am boycotting the Acolyte and it isn't because I think Disney or its creators are going to care at all. I'm doing it for ME, because I had such a shitty time watching the Ahsoka show and it made me so miserable each week that I seriously think I will be better off just leaving it the hell alone and just absorbing whatever ends up crossing my dash from a distance. I only participate in Star Wars fandom servers that I feel safe in and only really get into discussions with personal friends who I know well. If participating in Star Wars fandom is making you sad, maybe take a step back or find a way to create your own corner of fandom that feels better. Ignore the damn Ahsoka show, pretend it never existed. Ignore the Acolyte. Ignore Tales of the Jedi. Ignore Filoni-related bullshit. Focus on the parts you DO like, or give yourself the space to remember why you liked it in the first place.

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (7)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

NOT BETA READ (I did try the best to my ability. If you would like to be my beta reader feel free to DM me :)

You had been walking down the hallway towards Namjoon’s room for your daily visit when someone from the room in front of his stomped out. The nurse had a scowl on her face as she turned around to bang on the door that shut closed. She threw the files in her hand onto the floor in a fit of rage, fists curled up into a ball.

“Rot in a hole, you son of a bitch!” She screamed, banging on the door again. You had frozen in your steps, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. You tried to quietly shuffle your feet along, but the scuffing of your shoes had caught the lady’s attention. 

“What are you looking at?” You shrunk back into your shoulders at her cold stare. With an upturned sneer of her lips, she marched off from where you had come from. 

Namjoon had immediately picked up on your distressed emotions from his bedroom so he quickly stepped out to check on you. “(Y/N)?” He had startled you, causing you to flinch. “Is everything okay?”

The large man took in your wide eyes the corner of your lips downturned. “Yes. I'm fine, Namjoon.” You shook your head, giving him a small smile as you started to calm down. “The other nurses aren't really nice.” You told him, glancing down the hall.

“Are they being mean to you?” The man spoke quickly, following closely behind you as you walked into his room. “I can speak to Hanseol about it.”

Your lips twitched at how informal Namjoon seemed to be with your boss. But then again, Namjoon had been in the facility for a long while. “No.” You shook your head with a grateful smile. “It's fine. I just saw one out in the hallway.”

“Ah.” Namjoon sighed deeply, nodding his head in understanding. “You mean the one coming out of Yoongi's room?”

“Yoongi?” You questioned, turning to him curious about the man’s friend. From what you were thinking the man was probably not the easiest to take care of. He must have made the nurse mad somehow if she was banging on his door.

“Yes. He's been here almost as long as me.” Namjoon explained. “He was my first friend here.” 

Your face beamed when you saw the man’s small smile overtake his face as he thought about his friend. His dimple had made an appearance and you would never tire of it. His words seemed to make the cogs in your head turn as he explained that Yoongi was the second patient to enter the facility. With that in mind, his door number was two.

“So the numbers on your doors and files-”

“Are how we each came in.” Namjoon smiled. “I was the first, Yoongi came next. Then Hobi, Jin, Jungkook, Taehyung, and finally Jimin.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as Namjoon said Jimin was the last one. “But there are 50 patients, so there are more after Jimin.” You spoke out loud.

“Yes, but we are the closest and have been here the longest.” Namjoon told you. His lips turned downward as he sighed. “10 years go by slow.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him with worry. “You've been here for 10 years? Underground?” You asked, starting to feel sad that they weren’t allowed to go up in the sun.

“It wasn't underground at first.” The man shook his head. “Once more patients started coming in Hanseol had us moved down here for more rooms.”

You squinted your eyes at the man’s name. “Are you close with Hanseol?” You asked, thinking back to how your boss told you Namjoon was an important patient to him. Also it was the second time Namjoon mentioned the man in an informal way. He said he would speak to Hanseol about the nurses being mean to you so you thought it meant that they were close enough to where Namjoon could get whatever.

“All I'll say is that I'm here because of him.” Namjoon sighed deeply, his jaw locking. You frowned thinking you were at fault for his irritated expression. 

Namjoon suddenly froze as his eyes seemed to gloss over, head tilting. You were about to ask him if he was okay when he suddenly returned to normal and looked at you. 

“I have to go out for a moment. Would you mind to come along?” The man asked you, leading you to the door.

You tried not to frown at how he had acted just now, but nodded your head anyways. “Not at all.”

As you two stepped out, you looked back over at the door on the other side of the hallway. The papers the nurse had thrown to the floor were still in front of the door, strewn everywhere. You walked over to pick them all up and gather them. Namjoon watched with furrowed eyebrows at how polite you were to pick up something that had nothing to do with you.

“The nurse left the files.” You spoke to him. As you went over the pages, you began to pout. “She didn't get anything done for today. Should I do them?” You asked Namjoon, turning to him.

“He's not your patient.” Namjoon shrugged, knowing how his friend tended to act. 

“Would you feel upset if I said I was curious about Yoongi?” You suddenly asked, causing the man to look at you oddly.

“Why would you be?” He asked.

“You said he's been here for as long as you have.” You started. “I want to see if he's like you. Besides, if he's friends with all of you I want to be too.”

With the excuse you had given it almost made Namjoon laugh out loud. He knew exactly how his best friend was as a person. It was tough for anyone to speak to him without feeling incompetent. He had a no-care attitude that got on a lot of people’s nerves. 

Namjoon knew the moment you walked in Yoongi would eat you up and spit you back out. However he admired you for the way you wanted to meet the others. You had already met the majority of them and it would come time you would have to know all of them. As much as Namjoon wanted to warn you about Yoongi he found it best to let you know the man yourself.

“Be my guest.” When Namjoon gave you a response, your face lit up causing a blush to spread on the man’s face. 

You turned around to knock on Yoongi’s door, only hearing shuffling from the other side. Looking at Namjoon, he nodded his head telling you to open it. As you did, you stuck your head into the dark room. There was no light from what you could see and it made you shuffle your feet along the floor for fear or running into something. 

Turning around, you tried to find Namjoon but noticed he was walking down the hallway in a hurry. You guess it had to do with what he needed to do before you stopped at Yoongi’s door.

“What do you want Namjoon?” A voice resounded from somewhere in the room. 

You froze in your place, trying to make out some kinds of shapes in the dark. “Namjoon left.” You called out, rubbing your arms as you suddenly felt scared from not being able to see anything.

“What are you doing?” You felt someone behind you, whipping your head back to catch them. However their presence quickly disappeared as soon as you did. 

“Your nurse left your room upset. She didn't do her check up.” You spoke out loud. Your eyes squinted as a very small night light seemed to turn on from somewhere in the room. It only allowed light to go around the area, keeping most of the corners and floor dark. 

However with what you could see you noticed the figure of a man walking away from the light he just turned on. He walked closer to you, causing you to step back keeping your eyes on him. He tilted his head to the side as he watched you carefully. 

“So?” He questioned.

“I'll do it for her.” You told him. 

Yoongi squinted his eyes at the smile on your face, frowning to himself. He had already known who you were the moment you walked in but he had just assumed the others were over exaggerating your overly sweet presence.  

“You're too nice. Don't do that for her.” He scrunched up his nose. “She's a bitch.”

“She's just doing her job.” You suddenly frowned, looking at him with an upset expression. 

He rolled his eyes, turning away from you to move around his room. “Wouldn't need to if we weren't here.”

You tried to look around more, to figure out what the man looked like so you opted to find the light switches. “It's really dark in here.” 

“Don't turn the lights on.” You froze up as he was suddenly behind you, keeping your body trapped. “They bother me.” You felt him relax against you.

You turned around to look up at him, trying to find something. All you got was his round cheeks that were under a harsh stare. 

“What are you a vampire?” You snorted, looking up at him with your lips pressed tightly. When his face didn’t move an inch you nodded your head and tried to escape his grasp. “Okay...well I can't really see.”

“And it's my problem?” The man questioned. Your shoulders dropped as you realized he was going to be difficult. He was nothing like Namjoon and you had no idea how he was friends with this guy. But then again, being stuck in the same place for years probably brought you closer together. 

Yoongi took in how your shoulders had dropped, your face turning down as you grew sad. He sighed silently, rolling his eyes at the way his emotions betrayed him. “Let me see my file.”

He clicked his tongue when you handed it over without much thought, seeing how you suddenly perked up from his words. He flipped through the pages and turned around to find a pen to write something in them. 

“There. I gave you all that you needed. It should be good.” He turned back to you in a hurry, shoving the file in your direction.

“Oh.” You frowned in confusion. “You didn't have to do that. I don't think you wrote them down correctly anyways.” You purse your lips as you whisper the last part. 

“My vitals never change. Don't bother with them.” Yoongi crossed his arms, waiting for you to do something. However, when you just kept your eyes on him he became uncomfortable. “Are you going back to Namjoon?”

“I'm going to go see Jungkook for a bit.” Your smile returned to your face, making Yoongi look at you in question.

He was suspicious of you for sure, but everyone else seemed to think that you were a saint sent from heaven. At least most of them did. Hobi told them all to be wary of you but only because there was something blocking him from entering your memories. 

“That boy is always asking for attention.” Yoongi rolled his eyes when you mentioned the younger boy.

“I find it endearing.” You laughed. “It's cute.”

“Yes. He is adorable.” Yoongi huffed, moving to his bed to lay down on it.

“Aren't you sweet.” He snapped his head towards you. While he was positive you were being sarcastic, the kind look in your eye made him question if you were being serious. 

“Majorly.” He grunted, turning to look up at the ceiling with closed eyes. “Absolutely tooth rotting sweet.”

“I better get going.” You spoke after a giggle from his response. “Have a good rest of your day, Yoongi.”

Yoongi was one of only two from the group who couldn’t tell right away what kind of person someone was. The others had some odd way of knowing if the person they were speaking to was being sincere in the way they acted or talked. They could go on and on about the kind of person you were but Yoongi was still the one who needed to see for himself. 

Your words seem to cause his non-beating heart to feel warm. There was something about hearing those kinds of things for the first time in a long while that made him feel again. He didn’t want to tell the others that they might just be right about you because his pride would not allow him to. But he knew one day they would know that he agreed with them. Especially with how you were so obvious with how kind of person you were. It was something that gave him hope.

“After so long.”

Series Masterlist