#damn I feel old now that I remember when just the old series the first movie and the specials/shorts existed

[animationismycomfort]

bruh being born in the 2000s is so weird cause I grew up with one tmnt show was around when another came out and ended and I’m now around for another new release

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader

The first TLOU fic I ever read was a dbf!Joel story and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Unfortunately, I never bookmarked it so I have no idea which one it was. It's only natural that I had to try my hand at one at some point. So, here we are.

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.1k

Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which will be explained at some point.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

If you asked him over a decade ago where he’d be now, Joel Miller would not have placed himself as a single father to a tenacious pre-teen desperately trying to keep things afloat. He spent too many hours in the week working to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. He would be lost without the help of his brother and the few friends he had. He had no social life to speak of and could not for the life of him remember the last time he went on an actual date.

No, back then, Joel thought he’d be living the good life in ten years’ time – traveling, going out with the boys, maybe have a girlfriend or wife. Basically, just getting to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Don’t get him wrong, though. He was still living a good life; it just was a different sort of good than what he hoped for back in the day.

He loved his daughter with every fiber of his being. Sarah was the best damn thing that ever happened to him, his entire world, and he wouldn’t change the past ten years for anything. He bent over backwards doing whatever it took to make his little girl feel cared for, happy, and loved. He just wished there was a little energy left for something for himself at the end of the day.

Joel Miller was drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

He awoke with a groan as the bright sunlight broke through the gap in his curtains. It was Saturday – his birthday – and he hoped to sleep in, at least a little. Between the brightness of the morning and the stifled sounds of clanging pans and voices carrying up the stairs from his kitchen, sleeping in was not happening.

He hauled himself out of bed with a groan worthy of a man twenty years his senior and stretched out his limbs to ease the achiness in his bare back and chest from too much manual labor. Throwing on a pair of well-worn sleep pants and a faded tee shirt, Joel slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs. He moved rather quietly for a man of his size, stealing a moment to lean against the entryway into the kitchen and watch as Sarah and Tommy worked together making breakfast.

The counters were a mess of spilled pancake mix, eggshells, and… was that coffee dripping over the edge and onto the floor? It was a toss-up on who made the bigger mess, his ten-year-old daughter, or his grown ass brother. Still, Joel could not stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them laughing and teasing each other. That, right there, was the reason he worked so hard, why the loneliness was worth it.

When Tommy flipped the stovetop off, Sarah turned to find her dad smiling goofily at them. “Happy Birthday, Dad!” she exclaimed, launching herself at his chest. Her lanky arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Thanks, baby girl,” Joel replied, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before he settled her feet on the ground.

“We made you breakfast!” Sarah declared, gesturing toward the disaster zone formerly known as his kitchen.

“I see that,” he chuckled, voice still slightly rough with sleep.

Tommy turned with a smirk, hands grasping two plates filled with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Take a seat, brother. Let us take care of you on your birthday.” Placing the food on the small dining table, Tommy roughly patted his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mess, I’m on cleanup duty after we eat.”

“We expectin’ company? That’s a helluva lot of food,” Joel grumbled. He needed coffee, stat.

“Yeah, JB is comin’ over to see ya before heading to the airport. His daughter finished grad school over the summer and is moving back home.” Tommy set more food and a full mug of dark roast coffee in front of his brother. The scent alone made Joel perk up a little.

The Millers hadn’t met you yet, having only become friends with your dad through work after you’d already left for college on the east coast. Your dad had a good decade on Joel, but he and the Miller brothers got on like a forest fire from what he told you. With visits home always short and rushed, busy catching up with family and your own friends, there was never time for your dad to introduce you all. Now you were coming home for good and would have plentiful opportunities for spending time with your dad and his friends.

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered as the doorbell rang. Sarah bounded to the door to greet your dad with a hug. In many ways, the girl reminded him of you when you were young, and it always brought a smile to his face.

“There he is! The man of the hour. Happy Birthday, buddy!” Your dad, John, or JB as the Millers called him, ruffled Joel’s already mussed hair, leaving a few locks standing straight up in further disarray. Pulling a 12-pack of beer from behind his back, your dad set it on the table in front of Joel, topped with a little red bow. “I gotcha a lil’ something to celebrate.”

“Good man,” Joel replied with a chuckle. “Have a seat and help me eat all this. Tommy just told me your lil’ girl is coming home, finally.”

Your dad’s face lit up even more at the mention of you coming home. “She’s not so little anymore, but I sure am glad she’s moving back here. Said she had enough of the east coast, but I think she just missed her ol’ man.” After wolfing down some food, he added, “Think we could host a small barbecue here this coming weekend to celebrate? Your backyard is way nicer than mine and you got the pool and all.”

“Not to mention that fancy ass grill,” Tommy chimed in.

Swallowing a long sip of his morning go juice, Joel nodded. “Of course. Invite whoever you want. I’m looking forward to finally meeting your daughter.”

“Me too!” Sarah added. She heard a lot about you from your dad and hoped you were as cool in person as he made you out to be.

Joel’s mind started spinning upon hearing his daughter’s excitement. With her school hours being so different from his typical work hours, he was spending a small fortune on after school care for Sarah. She was still too young for him to leave home alone, especially on those days where he’s stuck late at a job. He was barely scraping by as it was and couldn’t really afford the cost of after school programs. Perhaps…

“JB, ya think your daughter would mind watching Sarah during the week while she’s home. Drop off and pick up from school and keeping her company ‘til I get home from work? I could pay her – it wouldn’t be much, but better than nothin’, I imagine.” He watched Sarah’s eyes light up at the suggestion and knew it was a good choice.

“I’m sure she’d love to. She wasn’t planning on finding a real job until after the holidays, so I know she’ll be free during the day,” your dad replied. “I’ll talk to her about it on the ride back from the airport and let you know.”

Three suitcases and a carry-on bag. That’s all you had left from six and a half years of pursuing higher education in North Carolina. You sold or gave away anything that did not fit into your luggage or hold sentimental value of your time away. Now, you were moving back home to save some money before you had to start chipping away at the mountain of student loan debt you accrued.

You loved learning, always have, but you were relieved to be done with school. Equipped with a bachelor’s degree in earth sciences and a master’s in education, you felt like a real adult ready to take the world of middle school by storm… well, starting after the new year, maybe. For now, you needed several months of limited to no responsibility to recoup your mental and physical energy. That last couple years of school really burned you out. Not to mention the last-minute rejection of a teaching position you thought was in the bag…

Anyway, you were better off leaving North Carolina behind and returning to Austin. You missed your dad something fierce and his particular brand of caring for you was exactly what your weary soul needed. It was you and him against the world, just like when you were a kid.

You flight was smooth and uneventful, yet you were relieved to deboard the plane. Something about being stuck in a tin can at the mercy of someone else’s ability to keep the thing from plummeting to the ground really aggravated your anxiety. Flying was something you would never enjoy; it was merely a means to an end when you wanted to travel long distances.

The journey to baggage claim was a slog with the crowd of passengers all heading to the same place. You were wondering how you’d wrangle three large suitcases by yourself when you caught sight of your dad. His broad smile took over his face when he spotted you, rushing over to sweep you up in a big bear hug.

“Hey Spud, how was the flight?” he asked as you waited for the baggage carousel to begin moving. “Looks like it was a full plane.”

“It was, but the flight was good. I’m really glad to be home.”

“Me, too, kid.”

You settled into a comfortable silence, watching various pieces of luggage pass by on the carousel. Your bags were scattered, and you had to wait several cycles to get all of them. Your dad lugged the final suitcase over the carousel with a grunt. “Jesus, what you got in this one? Bricks? A body?”

“That one has my gaming system and half a closet full of clothes,” you replied with a laugh.

Before long, everything was loaded into your dad’s truck, and you were heading back towards town. The radio hummed at a low volume as you both chatted about everything and nothing all at once.

“Hey, so I know you said you weren’t looking for full-time work until after the new year, but I have a proposition for you.” Your dad’s eyes stayed focused on the road, and you merely quirked a brow waiting for him to continue. “My buddy Joel – you know the one I told you about? Well, his daughter is ten and he needs some help with the school run and after school care. Our work hours aren’t exactly the same as elementary school, you know?”

You nodded, remembering all the times your dad spoke to you about Joel, as well as his daughter and brother. Despite never meeting them, you felt like you already knew their whole life story. “So, he’s looking for a nanny or something? I could do that. It would keep me from getting lazy while I navigate getting my Texas teaching certificate.”

Your dad grinned, one hand patting your leg. “I was hoping you’d say that. Joel will pay you, of course, but just… don’t expect much. It ain’t easy for him being a single dad trying to keep everything afloat.”

Again, you nodded, a soft smile creasing your lips. You knew all too well how challenging it could be for single parents, having grown up with just you and your dad. Much like what your dad told you about Joel’s experience with the mother of his child, your mom split when you were barely a toddler. Things weren’t always sunshine and roses, but your dad sure did his best to make sure you had a great life. Honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that life with your dad. You had a feeling it was much the same for Joel and his daughter.

“I’m happy to help, even if he doesn’t pay me. I’m sure his daughter will enjoy having a female influence in her life if nothing else. What’s her name again? Sarah?”

Your dad’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yup, that’s it. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Spud.”

A mist of tears prickled your eyes as you mumbled out a “Thanks, dad.” After a beat, you added, “Must you keep up with that nickname?”

“Of course. You’ll always be my little Spud,” he laughed as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, by the way, we’re going to the Millers on Saturday for your welcome home party.”

“What’s all this?” Joel questioned as Tommy and Sarah placed a heavy, wrapped package on the table before him along with a few smaller presents. The remains of a birthday cake sat nearby, having been delightfully devoured by the Millers while celebrating Joel’s birthday.

“Just a little somethin’ from me and Sarah,” Tommy replied, a boyish grin alighting his handsome features.

Joel gazed between them with curiosity. Not big on celebrating his own aging, he rarely got big gifts. “You wanna help me open this, nugget?” Sarah’s eyes lit up, small hands reaching to tear the wrapping paper into shreds. It only took a few moments for the contents to be revealed, leaving Joel confused at the modern contraption sitting in front of him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You play video games on it, dumbass.” Tommy harumphed as he began a diatribe on the features of the gaming system – he had one just like it at his place and it provided hours of entertainment when he didn’t feel like going out. “I figured it would be a good hobby for you since you never want to join me in going out.”

“Huh,” Joel grunted in return, brows furrowed as he read the instructions on how to setup up the machine. His attention was diverted by Sarah shoving the smaller parcels into his lap.

“Here, dad! These go with it.” Together, they tore into the wrapping paper to find several video games, a few of which were family friendly. The final gift was a spare controller for the gaming system so he and Sarah could play together.

Despite still being unsure that the gift was a good fit for him, Joel was grateful to Tommy for the effort. “This is too much, man. You shouldn’t spend this kind of money on me, Tommy.”

His brother waved him off. “I found a great deal and you never get anything for yourself, brother. You deserve something to indulge in. Believe me, you’ll have fun with this.”

The rest of the evening was spent with Tommy setting up the system and showing the father-daughter duo how to play some of the games he picked out. The living room filled with lots of laughter and teasing, and Joel found himself really getting into the fun of the video games.

After tucking Sarah into bed, Tommy showed Joel a game that was too violent for the little girl but entertaining for the men. The game was set in Washington DC which had been ravaged by a brutal pandemic and the main character was part of a group of agents fighting off nefarious gangs trying to take over the city. Joel caught onto the gameplay quickly and the two men found themselves building the loadout for Joel’s character, taking out bad guys, and chatting well into the night.

At two in the morning, the pair looked at each other with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and finally called it a night. Joel directed Tommy to crash in the spare room as he shuffled off to bed upstairs.

It didn’t take you long to get settled into your dad’s house. It wasn’t the home you grew up in and you only visited a few times after he bought it. After years living away on your own, you thought it would be an adjustment being under his roof again, but it wasn’t. He understood the need for personal space and never hovered unless you were hurt or sick. He gave you the downstairs bedroom – it was the largest in the house, with an ensuite bath and huge walk-in closet.

“Dad, no! Why in the world is this not your room?” you questioned when he placed your bags on the brand-new, king size bed he had delivered the week prior.

“Hell no, Spud. What do I need all this space for? I like the upstairs rooms better – the light is all wrong in this one anyway.”

You looked around, holding in a giggle. The room faced south, giving you just the right amount of natural light all day. That’s what your dad didn’t like. He preferred to live like a bat in a cave with blackout curtains and limited lighting.

“Alright, well, I love it. The natural light is perfect for me. I can actually put some plants on the windowsills. Thank you!” You kissed his cheek as he left you to get settled.

You spent the week rearranging the bedroom how you wanted it, setting up your gaming system, and putting all your clothes into the walk-in closet. Your dad hadn’t done much with the room other than furnish it, so you made a few trips to the store to get a bathroom set, floor lamps, and wall décor to make the room your own.

Before you knew it, Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. The day of your welcome home gathering arrived, and you would finally get to meet the Millers. An excited energy had you moving about your space in a flurry, tidying up and getting ready early. You’d seen some photos of the Millers that your dad sent you – Sarah was adorable with her dark, springy curls, and Joel… Joel was handsome, in a broody, overworked kind of way, with dark, riotous curls and big, warm chocolate eyes. Kind eyes, you called them.

“Hey Spud, you ready?” your dad called from the kitchen as you put the finishing touches on your hair. It was pinned up, leaving the smooth skin of your neck bare. The sundress you picked hugged your curves in just the right way, falling just at your knees in a flow of lightweight material. In early October, Austin was still hot, and you hoped the Millers’ yard was shaded.

“Bring a swimsuit! They have a pool!” he yelled as you grabbed the last of your things. Turning back to your closet, you grabbed a dark green one-piece suitable for family-friendly swimming and tucked it into your bag.

“I’m ready!”

Your dad smiled at the sight of you. “Let’s go then. We’re heading over early so you can officially meet the Millers and we’ll help them setup before everyone else arrives.”

“Sounds good. Who all’s coming anyway?” Your eyes widened as your dad rattled off a list of people he invited, including his work buddies and some of his and Joel’s neighbors. He would have invited some of your old friends from high school, but you all lost touch over the years. The party was turning out bigger than you thought. Your heart swelled with how happy your dad was to have you home for good.

The Millers lived in the same neighborhood, only a few blocks away, so close you could have walked if not for the scorching sun. The drive took only a few minutes before your dad pulled into the driveway of a two-story home similar to your dad’s, with simple landscaping and two wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Lovely and quaint, the house made you more curious about the people who lived there.

“Dayum! Get a load a JB’s daughter, Joel,” Tommy called from the living room, leaning over the couch to look out the front window. “She’s smokin’ hot!”

“Dammit, Tommy. Stop spying on ‘em,” Joel growled, sneaking a peek over his brother’s shoulder to do a little hypocritical spying of his own. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of you and he couldn’t break his gaze away, even as JB led you toward the front door.

“What was that about spyin’, brother?” Tommy teased, practically dragging Joel away from the window as a knock sounded against the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

Tommy opened the heavy wooden door revealing the pair of you standing there, matching bright eyes and wide grins greeting him. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Tommy.” Reaching a hand toward you, Tommy completely ignored JB, who just scowled at him.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” you replied, offering him your hand and name in return. Joel’s scowl matched your dad’s expression as Tommy held your hand for several beats too long.

“Back off, Tommy,” your dad grunted, swatting at the younger Miller brother. “This here is Tommy’s brother, Joel. The one who actually owns this house and the better Miller, if you ask me.”

“Ain’t no one askin’ you, old man,” Tommy’s smart mouth shot back at your dad.

Joel ignored both men, eyes like dark pools as he gazed at you, awed at how small and delicate your hand felt in his. “Howdy, darlin’,” his voice rumbled from his chest. “Come on in. There’s someone else lookin’ forward to meeting you.”

Leading the way through the kitchen into the backyard, Joel felt the heat of your gaze burning his back. Were you checking him out? There was no way. You were beautiful and likely in your early twenties. He felt ancient, though he was only in his early thirties, the hard labor of construction work having taken its toll on him.

“Hi Dad!” a young, sweet voice called from a small swing set where a precious little girl entertained herself. “Who’s this?”

Joel introduced you to his daughter, leaving the two of you to get acquainted as your dad called him away.

“You were away at college?” Sarah questioned, motioning for you to take a seat on the swing next to hers.

“I was,” you replied. “But I’m back for good now.”

“That’s good. What grade did you get to? I’m in fourth grade.”

You thought about it a moment. “I guess it would be 18th grade. But you stop counting grade numbers after 12th and start using different words to describe what year you’re in during college.”

Sarah listened raptly while you explained the different terms, what you studied in school, and what kind of job you were hoping to get.

“You want to be a teacher?” she asked, awed.

“I do! I want to teach middle grade science.”

“I love science! Maybe you could be my teacher when I get to sixth grade!”

Joel returned with your dad and Tommy in tow to find you and Sarah having a blast. The little girl sat in your lap as you kicked your feet out, swinging as high as you could, singing some camp song you remembered from your youth.

“See? Told ya she’d love to spend time with Sarah,” your dad said to Joel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring at the two of you with a glazed look in his dark eyes.

Shaking himself off, Joel turned to your dad. “Guess I better work out some details with her.” He stepped over to the swing set, taking a seat on the empty swing and hoping to the heavens above that it held his weight. He struggled internally on how to start the conversation and was just about to blurt something out when his amazing daughter saved the day.

“Dad! She wants to be a teacher! A science teacher! Isn’t that cool? Did you ask her about watching me yet? I think she’d love to.” Sarah rambled on excitedly, amusing you and Joel. Turning to you before Joel could chime in, Sarah turned to you with baby cow eyes, adding, “You would love to, right?”

How could you ever resist that look? No one could. Both you and Joel were powerless as you nodded, and the offer became official. Cell numbers were exchanged and before you knew it, you had a job starting Monday.

Hours later, slightly drunk on spiked fruit punch and buzzing with energy, you thanked Joel for hosting the barbecue and giving you a job. You kissed his stubbled cheek, forcing thoughts of how attractive he was as far down as they could go. You could not develop a crush on your boss. “I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” you declared before following your dad through the front door.

TBC

[greycaelum]

imagine past/young gojo and reader go into the future and meet the future gojo and reader with the kids and shi

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters: { Sweet Things }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

2016... The paycheck you got yesterday was dated 2010. "This is crazy..." Is this even possible? Your knees faltered, staggering back as you reread the paper. You have fallen into the wrong timeline. Did the curse have so much power to send you far to the present? How are you gonna go back?

𑁍 Genre: fluff, time-leap

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (1.4k)—/ glimpse of teen Satoru, teen reader, the reader got sucked in a curse's domain, clingy Satoru—/

𑁍 A/N: For some reason, there seems to be a number that likes this trope (I have two more of the same request in the inbox). This is not my forte, so sorry for the very long wait dear. I'll post the next part in Satoru's POV. This will be a three-shot I guess.

"Neh, can you fight?" A 19-year-old Satoru held his breath as he asks the girl he's been wanting to talk to for years now. "I can train you," he added.

"No, but if you do that stunt again I'm gonna knee you where the sun doesn't shine." You smiled sweetly at the male, contrasting with the blank look in your eyes. 

Satoru's heart only shivered. Please, you have to stop being so adorable it's making his heart go batshit pounding.

"Yaga-san, I'm going. Please wire my payment to the usual account." You bowed at the older male chanting to let down a curtain. You move to get out before the partition touched the ground.

"Oi!" Satoru almost choked on himself watching you turn your back on him. Not so fast pretty girl. Not when he's spent years looking at you from afar. He stopped you and handed over the blue folding umbrella.

"Sorry about that, I'm Gojo Satoru, and take this. It's going to rain," Satoru smiled and reach for your hand, depositing the umbrella before you could reply, and ran back into the curtain. He bit his lips, grinning to himself so badly he feels like he wants to roll on the ground. Damn it! You're just so cute. Seconds later small droplets started to fall.

That was how you "first" met the annoying but thoughtful menace. But little did you know...

Little by little he meets you more frequently in the missions, being a window, you're the first in the scene before the managers and sorcerers arrive. And it was supposed to be a normal mission and the sorcerers were just a bit late when you got entangled in the domain, with no way out. Just when your eyes are fully engulfed in the bottomless pit, a dash of white hair rushes forward and a shout called you.

"Y/n! Wake up, hey grab on me!" A crisp profanity flew out of the rude mouth. You swam into consciousness and gasped for oxygen.

You thought you're gonna die. That wasn't the first time you put down a curtain for a special grade curse but it sure will be the closest you get to dying. The curse messes up space and time. After regaining your breath, your eyes fluttered open and met the thick foliage of trees staring back at you.

The sound of loud children nearby occupied your hearing as you swam into full consciousness. This is Jujutsu Tech's grounds, the scenery is familiar but you don't know where it will lead since Master Tengen's barrier changes every day leading to different kinds of places to keep intruders from invading the school.

You started walking until you find yourself at the door of the mountain, towards the city. You look down at your dirty clothes and sighed. Perhaps getting a shower first makes sense. You hailed a cab and gave your address.

"!?"

The three-story building you're living in is nowhere and it was replaced by a fancy-looking cafe.

Les Sucreries

"What is going on?" You remember walking up and going out of your apartment this morning. You can't be in the wrong place since the ice cream parlor you love is right in front and a few blocks is the cafe you are working on part-time. 

"Ah, Miss. If you'd like please check out this flier it's time-limited so make sure to drop your entry!" A lad skip up to you and extended a flier then ran away.

Free Bouquet for the first three visitors... Fleur-de-Lis Bouquets. Only until July 27, 2016...

2016...

The paycheck you got yesterday was dated 2010.

"This is crazy..." Is this even possible?

Your knees faltered, staggering back as you reread the paper. You have fallen into the wrong timeline. Did the curse have so much power to send you far to the present? How are you gonna go back?

If in 2016 your apartment is not there anymore... Does that mean you finally got to buy your own house? What course did you take in college? Did you finally get a decent boyfriend?

A blush rose to your face. Why of all things did you have to think of that? You should first find a way home before worrying about that. Maybe going back to Jujutsu Tech will help. You started walking in the direction of the college.

The cafe door opened and a lady in a barista's apron peeked outside. The baby she's carrying on her hip calmed down when she walked out of the cafe. 

"Did you see someone we know Kou-chan?" The lady chuckled as she tickled her baby boy with striking white hair while he tried to babble and pointed his chubby finger at the lady walking away.

"Mama..."

"Mnn? Mama's right here sweetheart." 

II

Ahhh, this is crazy. The Tokyo of 2010 and Tokyo of 2016 look so alike and not at the same time.

You walked and walked and stopped.

That striking white hair that stands out of the crowd, lanky figure, and cool minty scent. The man is walking on the other side of the road and stopped on the red lights.

"Gojo?"

Your hands immediately flew to cover your mouth. He's wearing a weird white bandage over his eyes and his hair is fluffed up by the constricting cloth. But it's him! He looks just a 'bit' more handsome and mature...

Shit! You smacked your head. This is not the time for those thoughts.

And you'd never admit it to him or else his ego will gloat and you won't hear the end of it. Sometimes you wonder if ever someone has duct taped his mouth because he's so noisy and annoying.

Anyways, you can't help but trail after Gojo. Surely he'll help you if you just approach him. Everyone says he has a bad personality but when you first met him, he may sound condescending yet he ran after you to give you an umbrella because it was going to rain. That was thoughtful of him.

He's not that so bad... You thought and sighed. He may have the answer on how you could come back home. But at the same time, you're a little curious about how he turned out 6 years later. Just a little curious. After you're satisfied you'll approach him!

Come to think of it... Is he married? He should be 24 right now... It's quite young to be married yet but knowing that he came from the Gojo Clan and on top he's the heir it's not surprising if he already has an arranged marriage partner.

What does she look like? She must have a very unique curse technique and be from a prestigious clan.

Argh! Stop thinking about that Y/n. I need to go home. You steeled your thoughts.

Mustering up your courage you ran to the nearest pedestrian line and ran after Gojo but he walks damn fast.

"Damn, those lanky legs." You panted and look around only to realize you're back to where you were before. 

Les Sucreries

That's French... The name fits Gojo very much.

What is he doing here? Overcame by curiosity, you entered the cafe and sat on the farthest table. Will he recognize you?

That was when a woman came down the stairs, wearing a plain brown apron. She didn't notice you because she was focused on the man leaning on the stairs. The man was Gojo.

And the woman... was you...?

Your jaw dropped and took another look at the woman's face. It's definitely you!

It's just that your hair is longer and your body is more mature. And there's the palpable wedding band on your left ring finger.

But that's definitely "you" standing beside the strongest sorcerer, with his hands wrapped around "your" waist as he tries to sneak a kiss.

W-What happened?

Your heart was pounding and slowly regretted entering the cafe. Not in your wildest dreams did you think this would even be a possibility. I-Is he your h-husband?

So you got married. And not just married!

You're married to Gojo.

What were you thinking?! Ahhhhh! You felt your heart like a dying fish removed from the water. This isn't real... You could feel your soul escaping from your body.

You looked up and blue eyes met you. The same arrogant smirk on his lips and he whispered something to "your" ear and kissed her temples before walking towards your direction. The future "you" went up the stairs, still uninformed that her six years younger self is here.

"You blushing Y/n-chan?" He chimed and sat on the chair across from you, flashing a devilish grin. "So... how did my lil' teen crush get here?"

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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[ellana-ravenwood]

From parents to babies - Batfam x fem!reader

Synopsis : You and Bruce got turned into toddlers !! Shenanigans ensue, of course. 

This is part of a little “series” I guess, here’s the first part with Jason : Jason Todd(ler). I’m planning on writing a lil story for all the kids hehe, but I thought : “hey, what about Batmom and Bruce ?” and here we are. Hope you’ll like this ! 

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you. 

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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“Bruce !” 

“(Y/N) !” 

You manage to scream each other’s names before-

Before a white flash engulfed the both of you, and you suddenly disappeared, only a pool of your clothes remaining where you once stood. 

“Nooooo !!” is the last thing you hear before your mind goes blank, and you recognize the voice as being your youngest son’s, Damian. The sound of his scream greatly distresses you, but alas, you cannot do anything to help as you feel yourself slowly fading away and- 

Footsteps. Running fast to reach the place you stood on merely seconds before. But you’re not there anymore, you’re not there !

“It’s not possible !” 

That’s Jason. His voice breaking at the end of his sentence, as he approaches the bunch of clothes left on the floor, a lump in his throat as the inevitable is starting to be clearer and clearer, and he cannot refuse reality anymore.

Vaporized. His parents just got vaporized by that wannabe-magician’s laser ! 

In the mess of it all, that asshole even escaped ! Which was a good thing, in a way, because Jason promised you and Bruce he would never kill again, but he wasn’t sure he could hold that promise if he was faced with the man who took away his beloved parents. 

You all only just made peace with each other, only just became a family again ! How was he suppose to go on losing you once more ?

Dick was the first to reach the spot in which you were. He had always been the fastest of them all. His heart beats too fast in his chest, and he has this horrible thought that it’s the second time he sees his parents being killed right in front of him when-

Movements. Small movements. There, amongst his father’s suit. And there, amongst his mother’s clothes. And then-

Little hands. Fighting to find an exit in this labyrinth of fabrics. Little grunts of frustration, like when a child is trying to do something but doesn’t quite manage to do it. Finally finding an out. And-

“Oh shit.” 

Dick says, as he stares at- Two kids ?? 

One, a little boy. who couldn’t be more than two years old, black hair, bright blue eyes. The second one, (E/C) eyes and (H/C) hair and-

“Oh shit.” 

Tim says, as he’s the second one to reach the place and he immediately understands that his parents aren’t dead, but rather...

They’ve been turned into toddlers ! 

“Oh shit !” You exclaim happily, giggling. 

“Oh shit !” Baby Bruce repeats, and you both look at each other and giggle even more. Damn it. They’ve been in the care of children for only a second, and they already taught you bad words !

Bruce reaches for you, and there’s no doubt now that those two kids are indeed you and your husband ! Because immediately, you move closer to each other, your clothe much too big for you now being like blankets on you. 

Dick picks the both of you up, wrapping you in the cloths, and turns around to greet his siblings. 

Slowly, all your children reach you and-

“Oh shit !” You and Bruce say in unison, proud to show everyone (whomever those people were) that new word you just learned. 

And “oh shit” indeed, is on all of your kids’ mind. 

************

Of course, it had to happen when Alfred was away on his one vacation a year...Of freaking course. 

It wouldn’t be funny otherwise, right ? 

Only Alfred, could find a solution to this problem ! Your kids were totally lost ! 

Evidently, neither you nor Bruce remembered who you really were. You were clearly just two two years old. 

And it seemed you didn’t mind being picked up by people you didn’t know, as long as you could stay together (you two downright SCREAMED so loudly, when Jason tried to take you from Dick’s arms so his brother wouldn’t have to hold the both of you). 

It was as if that, at least, remained. Your bond. 

As if you were just- Instant friends, or something. 

They got you home, and : 

“Ok, any of you ever took care of babies ?” 

“Me not baby !” You say, glaring at your oldest son. It’s true, you knew you were two (somehow), you were no baby anymore ! 

“I’m sorry mom, I just- Oh gods this is so weird.” 

And it truly was, weird, to see their parents, the two people they knew they could always count on if they had a problem, being literal children. 

They couldn’t call them for help, you guys barely knew how to properly walk ! And had a very small vocabulary, too...Dick shook his head. This wasn’t a time to diss babies, this really wasn’t the time ! 

“Ok, first things first, we need to find them clothes. Duke, Jason, go the a shop and get them some stuffs to wear. While Cass and I will go buy some food for them. Damian and Dick, stay here and take care of them.” Aaaah Tim, ever so pragmatic. In a matter of seconds, he had gotten over the shock of the situation, and was taking matter in his own hands. 

And it was good. It was a start. They had no idea what they were going to do after, except the fact they had to find a way to get you back to normal. But at least, they had the beginning of a plan. 

They knew they could all count on Tim for plans. From A to Z, he would find a way. He had no idea how to take care of babies, of course, but his mind could find solutions to every problems. 

Yes. Yes. They only had to start moving. And things would be alright. They could do this. 

They could do this. 

They had to do this, for both your sake. 

************

Officially, Bruce and (Y/N) Wayne went away on a surprise vacation. Your disappearance had to be explained. 

None of your kids called Alfred, the butler deserved his annually vacation after all, and they knew he would come right home if he heard. So they let him be, and started to take care of their “baby parents”. 

Brucie ish scared

Before being the way Gotham’s media, models and such, called him when he still had his playboy persona, and not his “family man” one that he now had, “Brucie” was the nickname his mom gave him. 

Never in public, of course, but when they were home. When she was telling him bed time stories or singing lullabies to him. When she woke him up, gently, in the mornings. When she told him to come home for dinner, as he was playing in the garden. 

“Brucie”, was a name Bruce always associated with his mother’s affection and love. Which is why he hated how the media, and certain people, self-appropriated that name, and associated it with that persona who wasn’t even himself. 

It’s not like he could do anything about it, though. He had a role to play. 

And so, “Brucie” became that “other him”, while initially, it was his true self...

It had been years, since anyone had called him that. He wasn't a playboy, anymore, and your little nickname for him (aside from “my heart” and other term of endearment) was “my Broosh”. 

And so finally, this name came full circle. 

Brucie. 

That’s how he called himself. Toddlers had that tendency to talk about themselves in the third person, sometimes. And Bruce, was referring to himself as “Brucie”, not “Bruce”. 

Your children were a hundred percent sure it was because even if he didn’t seem to ask for his parents, a part of him remembered them, and how his mom called him. 

Even turned into a toddler who didn’t remember much of his own life, Bruce still had his parents in mind. 

And so he called himself Brucie. 

And Brucie was a scaredy cat ! 

The irony of which didn’t escape any of your kids. 

What, the “fearless Batman” was afraid of literally everything ? That was funny. Dick made sure to take PLENTY of videos (just if he needed leverage for something one day). 

Brucie got scared of the vacuum cleaner. Brucie got scared of the dark. Brucie got scared of any noise that was too loud. Brucie got scared whenever (Y/N) wasn’t around. Brucie-

“Brucie ish scared !” He’d whimper, and run towards the closest “adult” he could find (any of your children, though over half of them were far from being official adults), seeking comfort. 

Every time, and it was the most adorable thing to witness, you’d rush to him, and hold him saying : “No scared Brooshie, no scared, me here. Me here.” 

First, “Brooshie” = so darn cute, a toddler adaptation of the traditional “Broosh”. Second, the way you’d shield him in your little arms, and how he’d hide his face and close his eyes, how he’d hold onto you and calm down as you told him to not be scared, it had to be peak adorableness.

And in a way, toddlers you were a good reflection of adults you. 

Bruce was no longer scared, in the strictest sense of the term. He had shunned all his emotions, locked them away deep in his heart, for years. Ignored his pain, and the remnant of his fears. 

And then you came in, and forced open his heart, shattering all the walls he build for years, and making it impossible for him to live without you (and vice versa). 

Just as Baby Bruce found comfort and safety in your arms, just as he was soothed by your voice, Adult Bruce knew he could always be safe and warm in your embrace. 

Nobody, when witnessing such scenes, could even dare say you weren’t made for each other. 

DICK 

It was so weird. 

Dick just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you two were turned into kids. Like, what ? 

His...parents were now younger than him. How weird was that ?? 

Of course, he knew he should be used to weird things by now. After all, over the years, from when he first became Robin to now, he had seen his fair share of strange stuffs. But this-

This was really, really odd. 

“Ick !” was the name you and Bruce decided to give him. No matter how many times he made you repeat it, you could never truly manage to say his name properly. And so, he was now “Ick”. 

And “Ick” had no clue how to take care of children. 

Was this how Bruce felt, when he officially adopted him ? Was this how you felt, when you became his mom while being so young ? 

Of course, Dick was older when he first arrived. But he was also a lot more traumatized. And he knew he could be difficult, at times. He could be so damn angry, back then. 

While you and Bruce ? You were adorable kids. You’d listen to him, and never talk back. What, you were supposed to be in your “terrible twos” era, yet it seemed like you were just good kids. 

Of course, the fact that your eldest son let you do absolutely everything you wanted might’ve been a reason as to why you two were so “nice” with him, and didn’t throw any tantrum. 

No tantrum needed, when the person taking care of you would let you do whatever you wanted. 

You didn’t wanna wear pants ? No problems. You didn’t want to eat your vegetables, but wanted sweets instead ? All good. You didn’t want to take a nap ? Then he could play with you a little longer. 

Yes. It became quite apparent that Dick could not resist you, at all. 

Which wasn’t much of a surprise, really. Because he was the same way with his siblings. They could make him do whatever they wanted to (outside of work, of course. When they were vigilantes, it was an entire other story, but it was because he often had to take the “leader” job, and a mistake could cost a life). 

And so, even though he found it extremely weird, and couldn’t quite call you “mom” and “dad” anymore (and who would blame him ?), he didn’t hate taking care of you. 

He sort of saw it as “payback”, for all the years you put up with his moods. For all the time you didn’t give up on him, and all the moments you were there to catch him when he fell. 

The reason he found it so hard to accept and fathom the situation, was because you and Bruce had become such “safety nets”, for him. 

You were his parents. He couldn’t think of a life without you. Without your guidance. Without your soothing words. Without your scolding, when he needed one. Without-

He couldn’t accept this turn of event, because he needed you. He had pushed you enough, in his teenage years and early adulthood. Now, he realized he absolutely needed his parents. 

He had to find a solution, and fast. Because although he didn’t mind taking care of you as you were nice kids, he just wanted his parents back. 

JASON 

Jason was the most responsible one. 

Which, when people knew your children, wasn’t that surprising.

He’d always been a responsible kid, despite what anyone could think. 

He was a really good big brother, always looking out for his little siblings, and being there to be their voice of reason (Dick being his...he had a "decent teacher”). 

And so he became the “mom” of the house (it’s a nickname Tim, Duke and Damian gave him, when he wasn’t there). 

He had always loved cooking, ever since he was a kid. So he took it upon himself to cook healthy meals for both you and Bruce, and would scold Dick whenever he’d caught his brother red handed giving you candies and other ice cream right before dinner ! 

Bruce hated carrots, and you despised spinach. Other than that, it seemed you were willing to try everything he made for you two. 

Jason spend hours on the internet searching for recipes fit for two years old, for things you should feed kids this young. And he came up with quite a diet for the both of you. 

The food he made was delicious (and more than once, he caught one of his sibling eating from your spoon instead of feeding you !). 

Jason would be the one to remind everyone of yours and Bruce’s bed time. After all, “bed time” in the Wayne household had always been a little;..different, to say the least. But with toddlers ? It couldn’t be. It had to be regular, or they’d be too tired. 

Jason made a carefully planned sleep schedule for his “parents”. And when he wasn’t the one babysitting at night (they all took shifts so they could still do their vigilante jobs), he would call his sibling when it was bed time to make sure they’d respect it. He would genuinely harass Dick, because he knew his older brother was “weak” and could never refuse puppy eyes (after all, he abused of that technique to get him to do whatever he wanted, when he was younger), and he had to be reminded that a regular bed time was important !

How odd it was, for thugs, being downright beaten down by the scary Red Hood, while the latter would talk in his income and say things like : “I can’t believe you gave them ice cream before sleepy time again !” and others : “They’re babies, they need at least ten hours of sleep !” 

Jason didn’t let any tantrum through. Where Dick would just let you and Bruce do whatever you wanted, Jason had clear limits.

Because that is how you raised him. Sure, Bruce could be a little too strict sometimes, especially with Dick. But he had grown as a father, and slowly learned the difference between being too rigid and allowing his kids to be kids. 

Jason often joked that Dick was the “trial and error” era, but he wasn’t too far off. With Dick, you and Bruce made plenty of mistakes. You did with your other kids too, of course, but with your eldest most of all. Because he was your first child, and you had no idea what you were doing at the time. 

But, yes. Jason knew the importance of limits, for children. Kids needed boundaries, so they could feel safe. He knew, because it totally worked on him. 

And so, you’d have a tantrum ? Too bad, you’d just have to calm down and ask again nicely. Jason was intransigeant. 

He was, though, the first one there if you or Bruce woke up crying during the night. And he’d take you in his arms (always the both of you at the same time), and sing to you. Or tell you stories. Up until you’d fall asleep again. 

Jason, although he had strict schedules and food diet, was such a gentle soul. Such a gentle carer. You knew that one day, he would make a great dad. And if that experience taught any of you anything, it was that yes, yes. 

Jason told would one day make a wonderful father. 

TIM 

"I think he doesn’t like me...” 

Tim said, deflated and defeated, as, once again, his dad (in baby form) cowered away from him as he approached. 

You ? You enjoyed being taken care of by Tim. You liked him very much. But for some reasons, “Brucie” seemed scared of him. 

“Don’t say that. I think he’s just- shy.” 

“Conner, honey, I appreciate you trying to comfort me, but if he was truly shy, he wouldn’t just- Oh come on !” 

Of course, Bruce chose that exact moment to jump in Conner’s arms, and to hide his face in his chest so he wouldn’t see Tim anymore. Superboy chuckled uncomfortably, trying to act as if it wasn’t because Bruce was scared or anything, but Tim couldn’t be fooled. 

Tim could never be fooled. 

And so he sighed, and held you a little closer. At least, his mom always loved him, no matter what age she was. 

You seemed to understand that Bruce’s actions made Tim sad, and even as a toddler, it greatly distressed you to see one of your “kids” sad. So you wiggled to signify to Tim that you want him to put you back down and-

“Oh, not you too, mom ?” 

You walk towards Conner, and Tim looks even sadder, as now, both of his “parents” seem to like others better than him...Even if they were just kids, and that Tim knew they weren’t doing it on purpose, his feelings were still hurt. 

But then-

You shake Conner’s pants, signifying for him to crouch down to your level. Baby Bruce is in his arms, and beams as he sees you. 

“’Own, ‘own !” He says, meaning “down”, and Conner puts him next to you. 

Immediately, Bruce takes your hand, and smiles widely. Which comforts Tim a little. At least, even as toddlers, it seemed you two were inseparable.

But then, you drag him towards Tim, and it’s obvious Bruce only follows because he seems very attached to you. The little boy does not want to be there, in front of Timothy Wayne-Drake.

And Tim looks down, sadly. He ruffles your hair affectionately, and says : 

“Good try mom, good try. But I don't think he likes me, at all.” 

You look at Tim, and then turns around towards Bruce, who was currently hiding behind you (how cute it was, that you always seemed to protect him when he was scared). But this time, you’d have none of it. 

Very much alike when you were adults, and you took none of your husband’s shit. You’d always set him back on track. Always. 

And so, toddler you said : 

“Bwooshie, Tim nice ! Tim good ! Tim fwiend !”

You let go of Bruce’s hand, and the boy whimpers and tries to catch your hand again, but takes a few steps back because he doesn’t want to get too close from Tim. But then-

Then you hop in Tim’s arms, and you snuggle against him. You smile at Bruce, and nods at him saying again : “Tim fwiend ! Tim nice !” and your son cannot help himself and hold you tight. 

Even turned into a toddler, he could count on his mama to cheer him up, it seemed...

Slowly, unsure, Bruce approached Tim. The boy was still obviously wary, but those were first steps. 

After a while, Bruce finally came towards Tim, and laid his hands on your son’s knees. 

He looked deeply into Tim’s eyes, and must’ve finally decided that he wasn’t so scary, because then, he climbed into his laps and everything was resolved. 

And oh, oh how much this meant to Tim...

DAMIAN 

“Father, you need to give her some air. I swear, even as children you two are impossible !” 

“AAAAAAAAAAH !” is Bruce’s response, as Damian tries to take him away from you. Apparently, young Bruce seemed to think screaming was an appropriate response to show his unwillingness to do something. 

And it frustrated Damian greatly. 

You had fallen asleep on the floor. Laid on your back, you were in a deep slumber, a pacifier in your mouth, your breathing regular. And Bruce was sitting next to you, your head was in his lap, and he was watching TV as one of his hand was on your head, the other one on your cheek. 

He too, had a pacifier in his mouth, and although he was focused on the TV show he was watching, it seemed like he had absolutely no intention on letting you go.

When Damian entered the room, he found the both of you like that, and decided it would be better if you slept in your bed. So he went to pick you up, gently taking his father’s hands off of you and-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH !” The pacifier falls from his mouth, as he tightens his grip on you, and glares at a bewildered Damian. 

You’re so deep asleep that you don’t budge, and then Bruce, after glaring some more at Damian, turns back to watch the TV. 

But Damian will have none of it. “Be firm, sometimes.” Jason told him, and he was going to take his big brother advice to heart ! And so he made Bruce let go, and took you into his arms. 

After a pause, as Baby Bruce was too shocked to react, his mouth slowly turned down into a frown and-

The little boy bursted into tears. Big, real tears. Ugly sobs with lots of snots running down his nose. 

And it made Damian panic. 

He hated that. He hated those cries. It reminded him of so many bad memories. He couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t bear it. 

Even less so knowing this was his dad ! 

And so he quickly went to the floor, and took little Bruce in his arms, soothing him expertly as he was still holding you in his other arms. 

His shirt was wet from Bruce holding onto it and burying his face into it. But eventually, the boy’s sobs died down, and-

Asleep.

Bruce was fast asleep, too. And his little face looked so at ease.

There. In Damian’s arms, a hand holding one of your hand. 

It reminded him of his father as an adult, in fact. How sometimes, he would surprise you and him as you fell asleep on the couch in each other’s arms. And how his father’s face would look the most relaxed and pleased, when you were holding him...

Damian tightened his grip on both of you. He was ready to protect you even if it meant he would have to sacrifice himself ! 

And oh- Oh he felt something growing inside him. Something important.  

Eventually, you and Bruce would be back to normal. He knew it, he knew his siblings would figure something out. Yes. You’d become his parents again. 

But he-

He somehow wanted a baby,  in this house. 

CASS

You both clearly adored Cass. 

You would walk towards her, and demand for her to pick you up. And then, when she would inevitably do it, you’d both snuggle against her and quickly fall asleep, absolutely content. 

Damian mentioned that he read somewhere that children felt people’s calmness. And so he conjectured that you liked falling asleep on her, because you felt calmed and secure. 

Which was the truth. 

It made Cass’ heart melt. She, for obvious reasons, never held children before. And she definitely never thought that the first kids she would hold would be her own parents...

Physical touch had always soothed Cass. 

Before she met you and Bruce, she was never allowed to be touch, and to touch other. She’d never receive a hug, or a soothing kiss. 

Never. 

So when you adopted her, she swore she’d take every opportunity to snuggle against you. Against her parents. Oh, and her brothers. None of them could resist a hug from her, not even Jason or Damian. 

If Cass wanted a hug, she would have it. 

So, she felt so fulfilled, when baby you and baby Bruce came to seek hugs from her. As if everything went full circle. 

You and your husband gave her the comfort of parental love. Gave her the safety of your arms, and taught her how important it was to have people you loved close. 

And here she was, soothing little versions of you, making you stop crying just by holding you. 

Yes. It was a full, nice, comforting and warm circle. 

And Cass felt so happy, when you hugged her. Whether you were kids or adults. 

DUKE

Duke had tons of little cousins. 

Cousins he still saw now, of course. None of his uncles and aunts could take him in, for different reasons (the main one being that none of them lived in Gotham anymore, what happened to Duke’s parents being the last straw...And Duke did not want to leave the city just yet). But he still stayed in contact with them. 

Before they all moved, Duke, who was the oldest of the kids in his family, used to babysit his cousins all the time. So, he had experience with children. 

And it showed. 

With you and Bruce, he was nice, yet strict. He (and Jason) was the only one who didn’t let you do whatever you wanted, and who would plainly ignore any of your tantrums. 

He was the only one able to detach himself from the fact you were his parents, and viewed you as normal children he had to take care of. 

This is probably what saved him. What made him be able to live with that situation. Just like Dick, he really wanted you back to normal. But his defense mechanism was to pretend you weren’t you, but random kids he had in his care. 

It was a lot, for a seventeen years old, but Duke was strong. 

You’d always known he was strong, from the moment he became your ward, to now, as he was officially adopted and called you “mom”. 

For his own sanity, Duke viewed this as a “baby sitter” job, and so, on purpose, didn’t get attached to baby you and baby Bruce too much. He didn't want to, because he didn’t want you to stay like that. 

He wanted his parents back too, he needed you still, he was too young to lose parents a second time ! 

And so Duke shut his feelings away, and took care of you as if you weren’t really you. He gave you lots of care and love, as a child needed, but-

But he pretended you, as his parents, were away for a while. And constantly thought of a plan to get you back to your normal self.

They never sleep alone 

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !!” Baby Bruce screamed, as loud as he could, holding onto your hands for dear life. 

“Me not want, me not want !” You say, kicking Dick with your little legs and holding Brucie’s hands too. 

Your kids quickly realized that they COULD NOT separate you for bed time. 

They had bought two children’s bed, but in the end, only one was used. You’d fall asleep all snuggled to each others, pacifier in your mouth. 

“It’s- Kind of like when they’re grown up.” Damian says, and they all nod. 

Yes. Yes it’s true that you two found it really hard to find sleep, when the other one was absent. True insomnia would hit you, in the event that one of you couldn’t be here for the night. 

What transpired in your toddler form, how you’d scream if separated, also existed with the adult versions of you. 

And it comforted your children, in a way.

They knew that their parents were still in there, somewhere. 

ACE 

“Doggy !” Little Bruce beamed happily, as he ran as fast as he could towards..Well, his dog, actually. 

Ace was taken aback, at first, as he recognized his master’s smell, but couldn’t figure out why he was so...small. 

Bruce ran to him, and literally fell on the dog hugging him tightly. 

“Doggy !” The little boy said, and your children felt their heart melt. 

None of them ever thought they’d ever call their dad “cute”, despite you trying to convince them that he really could be cute (some would say you were biased). 

But here, in that moment, as their dad seemed so damn happy just because of his dog, no other words came to their minds. 

Cute. 

Unruly little buggers !! 

You two, together, could be...

“Tornadoes !! They’re goddamn tornadoes !!” Jason screams, as he was running after you. 

You were wearing only your diaper, managing to escape the grasp of your son by taking sharp turns there and there, and knocking down every single things on your way. 

On the other side of the living room, Tim and Damian were trying to catch Bruce, as he was doing the exact same things. 

Ten seconds. 

They left the both of you alone for less than ten seconds !! 

And when they came back, you and Bruce apparently had decided that it was fun to break extremely valuable objects, including vase, and a large array of ornaments. 

You were giggling like a little devil, as you slowly devastated the living room. 

“Alfred is going to kill us !” Duke says, holding his head in his hands, standing there watching the disaster unfold in front of him. What else could he do, really, when some of Gotham’s mightiest heroes couldn’t even get a hold of you ?? 

Finally, Jason catches you, just as Tim lunges forward and grasp his dad as well. The two of you wiggle like snakes as you try to get away, but you do not cry. 

No, on the contrary, you both laugh way too loudly, probably thinking that “destroying the house” was a great game.

And your kids could swear that your laughs were genuine “evil laughs”. 

Later, on the security camera, they’d know what happened. 

At first, you were both sitting on the floor, playing with toys, waiting patiently. But then, Bruce got on his feet, and walked that wobbly unsure walk all children have at first towards the coffee table. 

Something had caught his attention. It was a small crystal vase, that Alfred had put there years ago, for decoration. It went splendidly with the carpet, and matched the room perfectly. 

And it was shiny, and Bruce wanted it. 

He tried to climb on the coffee table, wiggling his little butt to give himself some momentum and get on it...but he couldn’t do it. That’s when you came into action, and pushed him so he would get on. 

He turned around, and giggled, as if to thank you, and then-

Then he brought you the vase. 

It was quite adorable, really. He wanted it, because it was shiny and looked cool. But then he decided to give it to you, instead. 

He let himself fall on the floor from the coffee table once he gave you the vase, and you both stared at it for a second. Before, for some reason, you took it and threw it hard on the wall ! 

Seriously, sometimes, kids were absolutely impossible to understand. What made you want to suddenly throw that vase like that ? Nobody would ever know. But what was known, is that it seemed like both you and Bruce liked that, because you looked at each others, as if conniving, and pushed yourself off of the floor, standing up. 

And then, as your children entered the room with some food, you proceeded to start destroying everything you could get your hands on, up until they finally managed to get a hold on you.

And your downright EVIL laughter filled the room.  

Your kids were DEFINITELY going to get that security camera footage out one day again, if you ever decided to punish them or scold them about something. 

Back to normal 

Zatanna, as usual, to the rescue. 

When your kids were finally able to reach her. She arrived barely minutes after they exposed the problems to her. She had been in another dimension, and therefor couldn’t be reached for a while. 

From her understanding, it’s been almost a month since you turned into toddlers. And finally, she was there (which was good, because Alfred’s one month vacation a year was coming to an end, and your kids really wanted to pretend nothing ever happened). 

Ah but she was accompanied by an unwanted visitor...

“What are you doing here, Constantine ?” Damian asks, holding you in one arm, and his father in the other. Protectively. 

“What, I learn that the big bad bat got turned into a kid and you think I could miss that ? No bloody way haha. Curiosity got the best of me !” 

“I’m sorry guys, I didn’t mean to tell him but he was there when you called...”

“It’s all good aunt Z, it’s all good. To be fair, I was hoping someone else would see this too, so we can NEVER let them forget they had to wear diapers again haha.” 

“Grayson !” your youngest son exclaimed. It’s been a while, since Damian called Dick “Grayson”, but he was absolutely shocked about this “betrayal” ! 

“Ok, ok. Let’s make sure dad never forget he had to wear diaper again !”

Damian thought about it for a while, and then said : “And you’ll leave mom alone ?”

“Yes, promised.” Dick says, and Constantine nods too (he wasn’t about to mock you anyway, he was too scared of you). 

“Alright, then it’s acceptable.” 

And on that note, Zatanna started a ritual. 

************

“What the hell happened ??” Are Bruce’s first words. And then, he sees you, and takes you into his arms, holding you with almost too strongly. 

“I thought I had lost you...” He whispers, and you hold him back just as strongly, because you had the same thought. The last thing you remembered, after all, was that laser coming towards the two of you and then-

And then what ? 

After letting you hug each other, your children finally tell you what went on. 

And oh. Oh you were so damn proud of them, they did so good ! 

I want a baby sibling 

A few weeks went by. 

A few weeks, during which both Dick and John Constantine flooded the group chat all the supers had together with baby pictures of the Batman (oddly enough, they didn’t divulge any picture of you...probably because you scared them a little), and embarrassing videos. It was an endless source of jokes, and teasing from everyone. 

But you didn’t worry too much though, you knew your husband would have his revenge (in fact, you were more worried for your son and for Constantine than anything else). 

In any case, that episode would be soon behind you, save for a few mockeries there and there. At least, that’s what you thought. 

One morning, Damian just casually entered your bedroom and stood before your bed, staring at the two of you, as you were slowly leaving the dream world. 

You thought it was an emergency, at first, as none of your children would ever dare to just walk in your bedroom like that (lest they witness something that could scar them for life). But Damian calculated the risks. 

It was much too early, for either of you to be awake. So it was safe. And so he came in, without knocking, and planted his feet resolutely in the floor, his hands on his waist, staring the both of you down. 

“What is it, buddy ?” You ask, half-asleep. Bruce, his hair a mess, sat up, dazed. 

“I came to an important decision. One taken in the light of recent events.”

Confused, neither you nor your husband say anything. Waiting for what your son is going to say next. Slowly, he turns around, and starts to walk left, then right, then left...Pacing in front of your bed, his eyes never leaving you two. 

Finally, he stops, and solemnly says : 

“I want a baby sibling. Sister or brother I do not care, I just want a little one to take care of, and to be a big brother. I think, I am done being the youngest.”

Bruce stares dumbly at his son, his face blank and expressionless, sure now that he must still be dreaming. And you’re not doing any better. You blink fast a few time, and repeat : 

“A baby sibling ?”

Damian doesn’t miss a beat as he says : 

“That’s right. Like I said, a little brother or sister, it does not matter to me, as long as it’s mine. My little brother or sister, I mean. Of course, they’ll be their own person, and we won’t own them per se. We’ll just take care of them.” 

Silence. 

A long silence. 

Finally broken by your son : 

“Well. I’ll leave you to it then. I expect you will take my request seriously. We will talk about it again another day. Thank you for listening to me, and see you at breakfast.” 

And on that note, your son leaves just as casually, as you look at him, astonished. 

You turn to your husband and-

You know what he’s thinking. You and Bruce never talked about having biological children, because the kids you already have were always enough for your happiness. You didn’t need more, you already loved them so much. 

But you both always told yourselves that if it were to happen...

Of course, you would accept it. You would raise that child with joy, too. It would be quite a bonus, to an already happy life. 

And so as your son leaves, and you look at each others you think-

A baby in the house, wouldn’t be so bad. 

__________________________________________________

Well, here we are ! I hope you liked this ! As per usual, comments/reblogs are more than welcomed, and always a great motivation to post more :). Don’t hesitate to tell me what you thought of this ! It always makes the time spend on a story worth it, when I hear from y’all :) <3. Thanks in advance, and thanks for reading this, too ! See you soon with another story ! 

[cerebralisis]

I decided to make my analysis of So High School into a separate post, because I can’t help but think of this song every time I see photos of Taylor at the games. And sure, it sounds like a love song on the surface until you remember that Taylor was bullied in high school and start to dig a little deeper. Feeling "so high school" is not something a 34 year old woman wants to feel.

Let’s look at the lyrics.

"I'm sinking, our fingers entwined, cheeks pink in the twinkling lights" = To me this sounds like drowning, embarrassment, and diving in with the sharks

"Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me" = You mean her first Chiefs appearance when they 'slid off in the getaway car' at the end? Nothing good starts in a getaway car, babes.

"I'll drink what you think and I'm high from smoking your jokes all damn night" = I mean...

“I'm watching American Pie with you on a Saturday night" = What do we know about this movie? We know that it is renowned for its high school immaturity and misogyny. It’s about a bunch of horny boneheaded men who treat women like sex objects instead of people. Sounds a lot like football culture to me.

"Your friends are around so be quiet. I'm trying to stifle my sighs." = I'm in the box with your friends and family. I need to hold it together so I don't offend them, but I legit hate this.

"Cause I feel so high school" = SHE HATES THIS.

"Bittersweet 16 suddenly" = I don't think she was a fan of high school, you guys.

"Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? It's just a game but really, I'm betting on all 3." = A clear reference to that kiss/marry/kill interview with Travis, while also saying "we're gonna get together, put on a show for everyone, and I'm going to slowly die inside until we're done."

"Get my car door, isn't that sweet. Now pull me to the backseat" = All I hear with this is Movie Director Taylor giving instructions to her leading man so they can get a good reaction from the audience.

"You know how to ball, I know Aristotle." = You're a jock. I'm a nerd. We are not compatible.

"Touch me while your bros play grand theft auto." = The official song lyrics on Spotify put grand theft auto in lowercase the first time and capitalized the second time. The capitalized GTA could refer to Travis's friends playing the video game, sure. But also - you know who was arrested in August 2023 for grand theft auto? Bashaud Breeland, a cornerback for the Kansas City Chiefs who played with Travis in the 2020 Super Bowl.

"It's true, swear, Scout's Honor" = Look it up, I dare you.

And my absolute favorite:

"On the brink of a wrinkle in time" = This is TTPD, folks. Of course there's going to be a literary reference. A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle. The main character is a girl named Meg who is incredibly bright but struggles in school because she doesn't fit in with the other kids. After meeting a trio of badass witchy women, Meg travels to far-off worlds (a sort of deep portal time travel, you might say) where she joins the battle of light vs. darkness. What do we know about Taylor’s usage of light and darkness throughout her discography? It's giving… Reputation vs. Daylight? Shrouded in secrecy vs. out in the open? Based on everything else that Taylor has been hinting at through TTPD (not to mention Evermore and Midnights), it sounds like she is on the verge of diving into a much larger battle. And if I had to guess, I would bet that this battle will start during the Reputation re-release. Around Halloween. 🎃 When exile ends. Almost exactly 2 years after the Bejeweled music video was released. Maybe the old Taylor can't come to the phone right now cause she's dead?

I'm just speculating, but I will add that the 3rd book in the Time series is called A Swiftly Tilting Planet. There is a poem referenced through the book that goes like this:

With Ananda in this fateful hour, I place all Heaven with its power, And the sun with its brightness, And the snow with its whiteness, And the fire with all the strength it hath, And the lightning with its rapid wrath, And the winds with their swiftness along its path, And the sea with its deepness, And the rocks with their steepness, And the Earth with its starkness, All these I place with God's almighty help and grace between myself and the powers of darkness.

The word ‘Ananda’ mentioned above is the name of a character in the book, which is significant to the story because it’s a Sanskrit word that describes the eternal bliss that accompanies the ending of the rebirth cycle. If this series is what Taylor is referencing then it’s sounding more and more like she’s going to kill off Taylor TM and be done with the games, done with the reinvention. The plot summary of A Swiftly Tilting Planet says that it’s a book about "going back in time and changing might-have-beens." What decisions would she have made differently if she could do it all over again?

I don't know, friends. Take from this what you will. All I know is, this woman and all her brilliant duality is going to send me to a padded room. ✌🏻

[sanji-piss-hell]

ZOSAN FIC REC

Here is some of my fave zosan fics. Some of these I read years ago and so I don't fully remember what theyre about but they we're good enough that I still have strong emotional attachments when I see the name. Most of them are things I've read recently. Literally all I do all day is homework and have an app tts fanfics to me like an audio book so there's quite a few of recs here. I am not the best at summeries but just trust me bro these are GOOD SHIT. I only provide the best. What I consider a good fic: - Takes place in the one piece world (I don't like modern aus) - Characters stay in character or if they do have changes from their canon portrayal there is a justifiable reason from within the story. - Solid story telling and arcs (even the shorter fics) - The Zosan dynamic is kept mostly how it is in canon they fight and bicker. (I know some like when they're soft with eachother like a loving married couple. You won't find much of that here) - Some of these have pervy sanji, que nose bleeds and ogling. With that out of the way here's the list!! Now to my fave zosan fic of all time and ironically enough the only fic taking place in a modern setting: Life is fine series. TW: Drug abuse, heavy angst, depression I have reread this twice and forced a friend to read it too. It is so amazing not just for the zosan but for the genuinely good story telling. You follow zoro reeling from his sudden loss of relationship with Sanji and falling down a...Well uh, path. It's fucked it's dark it's depressing and its fucking riviting. Alot of the time reading this you're just like WHY DID SANJI LEAVE HIM WHAT IS GOING ON??? Honestly I need to reread this again. Onto softer fics to heal your heart after that one: Honor in limits, his strengths in weakness By Hawksbrood

“Fucking hell cook, what happened to you?” Zoro demanded, voice low so as not to disturb the others sleeping nearby.

Sanji rolled his eyes. “What do you think? I told you we got in a fight earlier.”

“Not that, your fucking feet!”

The cook snarled at that, crushing his cigarette in his teeth. “What the fuck do you mean, my feet? They’re just feet!”

Zoro’s eyes widened, looking at the bruised flesh before him. This wasn’t that.

This was just so good and cute. I appreciate watching zoro appreciate sanji. They take care of eachother but in a way where theyre both still them yeah know? I appreciate how sanji is written letting himself be vulnerable but understanding that he's always gonna be crass cause it's just a part of who he is.

come on, come on (turn a little faster) by donutsandcoffee

The one where everyone thinks they’re dating, Sanji is oblivious, and Zoro takes everything in stride.

Sometimes a love story can go in reverse.

I reread this one recently and it's just soft and sweet. I like watching sanji flounder around. The gay panic is great.

a complete guide to falling in love by ThousandSunny Sanji was trained in the Bridal Arts; this does not go unnoticed by the rest of his crew. I read this like 3 years ago and I dont remember much but I do remember loving it!

Part Timer By 8ball Sanji really, really doesn't want to give Zoro a job at his restaurant. Zoro doesn't really even want to work there in the first place, but, well, there’s this thing with Sanji, and this thing with feelings and the whole thing is pretty damn stupid all together. Zeff just wants grandkids. He’s too old for this bullshit anyways. I am sure everyone knows 8ball very well they're like zosan famous but still just in case this one is really fucking good. Also read this 3 years ago so I don't remember much but I consider this a zosan classic. Onto the rated R Grand Buffet by asyndese Drunk fic!! If there was one thing Zoro knew, it was that you could always trust Sanji's inclinations to do a beautiful 180 as soon as he was drunk. Luckily, Zoro was more than equipped to handle it. I spent. 30 minutes. Trying to find this fic again because that's how much I loved it. It altered my brain chemistry. Sanji getting a nose job during sex is just. aaaaaaaaa. Read it. Cannot suggest enough. Horrors not yet known by Trixree

Sanji doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, is the thing. Of all the times he has seen Zoro shirtless (in battle, mostly) he just… never noticed. The problem is, once he has noticed, Sanji can’t seem to stop noticing. And neither can anyone else.

In which Zoro has a nipple piercing and Sanji has a Problem.

I recently reread this and the first time I read it I didn't really get the whole gender sanji shit. Now though???? Yeah another fic that rewired my brain chemistry. This fic opened doors for me it exposed me to a new world. Also sanji gay panic is in here and I live for that. It can be pretty raunchy (love that too) Three rounds with a tiger by KobochaKitsune Another drunk Fic!! also in modern times damn maybe I lied sdklfj

Liquid courage, drunken decisions, terrible euphemisms, and texts from last night, or: how to think entirely with the booze (and your dick) for once.

Or: By the time Sanji got to the party, everyone was already drunk.

I read this 3 years ago (theres a trend going on can you tell??) It also rewired my brain chemistry (from this point on just assume all of these nsfw fics rewired my brain chemistry each of these opened doors for me. This one opened the doors to bottom zoro.) Fucking 20k words of just pwp. I dont even know how the author did that bro like damn. Nature of things by stark_black Tw: Sex work and prostitutes When the Sunny docks, Sanji and Zoro sometimes seek out relief in some not so savory places. After crossing paths in town on more than one occasion, the two find they have a lot more in common than they would like to admit. I hunted this down for like fucking hours a couple of weeks ago because it was that good. Stark_Black has a fucking library worth of zosan fics this one is a classic to me. But if you want more content check out his other fics I think they have like over 100 zosan its kinda insane. Coregasm by Yakarmi

Sanji discovers that sometimes, Zoro has orgasms while he lifts.

-----

“You…” Sanji trailed off, gaze turning down as he licked his lips. Pink tongue darting out nervously. “You orgasm when you exercise?”

Zoro clenched his jaw. Shrugged. Trying to act nonchalant.

“Sometimes.”

Sanji’s eye went wide, and like his mouth had suddenly been liberated from his brain, blurted out, “that’s so fucking hot,” before clamping his hands over his mouth. His cigarette fell from his mouth, bouncing soundlessly on the ground.

Bro bestie, the way this put me on nose bleed Sanji. Perv sanji. I need that gif thats like mmm cause man this is good. Ending this fic rec with a BANG we have

Contingencies and Congruencies by PeaceSignDisasterBi

Somewhere between finishing the bottles of alcohol and mugs of beer, the crew comes together to create a contingency plan for something that may-or-may-not-happen during their time on the Grand Line and beyond. Usopp thinks it's more likely than bumping into zombies, Zoro wants to stay out of this, Sanji is just going with the flow, and Nami may or may not keep things legally binding and above board with consistent consensual acquiescence. Robin finds it all amusing.

The damn chart stays in the locked drawer in her desk, split into three neat categories: Devil Fruit Powers, Science, and Magic. Each represents whatever they're hit with but also categorizes the amount of self-control the person has during.

AKA: 5 times Zoro and Sanji had to help each other as Consensual Helpers of Dubious Consent + 1 Time There Was Nothing Dubious At All

Ok this is 152k long its pretty insane. It regoes over the arcs so throughly so carefully that I literally had to question my memory because I havent experienced alot of these arcs in a while (it's one of the reasons im rewatching one piece). I will say despite how amazing and well written this is I had a hard time comprehending sometimes. now I was sick at the time of reading this so that might be why but sometimes the way things were phrased felt like yoda talking. I think it's just me though. I'm not used to big words :( And thats a wrap!! These arent even all the ones I wanted to include I have at least 20 more off the top of my head but I'll save that for another day. I hope you find joy in these fics Like i did I'll def do another one of these as cause I didnt even touch my sanji centric fics or germa 66 or just in general the best sanji fanfic writers. (Mentioned some of them like 8ball, thousand sunny and donuts and coffee.) Best of luck to yall and let me know what you think!

[dancingtotuyo]

9. the fear of what's to come

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel navigate life changing news.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of potential pregnancy complications including but not limited to miscarriage and stillbirth, single reference to a fetus being a child (not intended in a pro life way), angst, grief, complicated feelings surrounding pregnancy.

Notes: A huge thanks to my amazing beta readers and friends @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin & @janaispunk

If you have not checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3088

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

You know three weeks after your missed period what is happening. It’s not hard to figure out. It’s just like last time. Menopause crosses your mind briefly, but the symptoms don’t line up. You’re sensitive to the same foods, nausea rolls in and out like the ocean tides throughout the day. The insatiable craving for a tomato sandwich cements it two days later. Tears run down your cheeks as you quickly finish off the sandwich and prepare another. 

You don’t get excited. You don’t make plans, and most importantly, you don’t tell Joel. You’re 45. Joel is in his late 50s. You know the statistics, the pre-end-of-the-world ones. You can’t imagine they’ve improved. 

Instead, you just hope that when it happens, nothing goes wrong. There’s no DNC, no pills to make sure everything passes properly or ensure no infection sets in. You’ve aided many women through this, many much younger than yourself. Some make it just fine, others have complications with nothing but prayer, poultices, and 20-year-old antibiotics to help. You’re not sure what actually does it when the women make it through. Some of them you've buried. Their faces flicker through your mind. You cannot be one of them. You cannot leave Carter without either of his parents in this world.  

You tell Maria. You tell her everything she needs to know. What to do step by step when it happens. Since Adam’s injury, Dr. Pooley refuses to practice anything more than simple first aid. You’re both certain it’s dementia. You spend most mornings listening to him talk through different lectures he attended. On the mornings his brain won’t cooperate, you sip tea together. He’s writing down what he remembers, but you have to fact-check it. He’s already taught you most of it anyway. 

“You have to tell Joel,” Maria says when you tell her. 

You refuse. You won’t do it. You won’t bring him into this. You have this silent agreement that you’re partners in this world, but he still lives in the house across the street with Ellie. There’s never been discussions about moving in together or anything past that. You don’t call him your boyfriend. He doesn’t call you his girlfriend. Making those commitments, those plans, it will hurt too much when the world takes him away. 

Carter calls him “Daddy.” It makes Joel smile every time. He’s accepted that commitment. It makes you smile too, but there’s still a little ache in your heart each time. Carter knows about Gabe. You tell him stories all the time. If you ask him, he says he has two daddies. One here and one in heaven. 

But you won’t tell Joel about this child. He’s lost one. He doesn’t need to lose another. 

Maria fights you on it. She looks at her son pointing out that she was 2 years older than you are now when he was born healthy. You don’t remind her she almost died, but she sees it in your eyes. You still have nightmares about that night.

You’re firm. You’re not going to tell Joel. Neither will she, and she damn sure won’t tell Tommy either. 

You wait for the cramps and the blood, but they never come. You hit the 3-month mark, your 2nd trimester at the beginning of October. You don’t cry in the bathroom. You square your shoulders. Second-trimester miscarriages happen. Stillbirths happen, but hope gathers in the depths of your soul, growing with each day. You push it away with logic and reasoning. 

Two sides of you war against each other. You can’t bring another life into this world. At one point you were okay with it. You felt safe here, and while you still do, it doesn’t feel okay anymore. The world still digs its ugly claws into this community. Yet, the hopes you used to hold in your mind, the ones you had with Gabe, and the ones you had before the outbreak still linger. In a perfect, uncomplicated world, this is what you would choose. 

You hide the sickness from Joel with relative ease. He’s often awake and out of bed before you for patrol shifts, early morning chores, or waking up with Carter so you can sleep in.

You deliver the Crosby twins a week later without complications. Melissa is only a couple of years younger than you, but at your age, you know how crucial those few years are. When you finally reach your front porch, you sit in the darkness of Wyoming and finally let the tears fall because fate seems to be telling you that this is happening, or just sending you another person to lose. The realization hits you like a freight train. Time is up. You have to tell Joel. 

You crack open the door to Carter’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep and it relieves you to know he's here. You’re less on edge when he’s close, and It means Joel picked him up from Maria and Tommy’s. It means Joel is in your bed.

Sure enough, he’s there when you creep in. He sleeps on his side curled up over your pillow. You roll your eyes. Yes, it's endearing, but it’s also a pain in the ass to get your pillow back.

The bathroom light is blinding at first, but your eyes slowly adjust as you turn on the shower and steam fills the space. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you undress, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You’ve noticed the subtle changes in your body over these past couple of months, but they’re becoming more noticeable. Your breasts have grown, they’re so sensitive, and your sports bra pulls at the seams. Joel commented on it last week. You joked you were packing on extra weight for winter acting like it was nothing. 

Your favorite pair of jeans no longer fit. You’ve mostly stuck to leggings since. You’re starting to clock the subtle changes in your body. They’re happening faster than with your last pregnancy. The past week, you’ve shut Joel down sexually, scared he would catch on despite your sex drive skyrocketing. It’s been difficult. 

The shower washes away everything: the sweat and grime of the day, your tears, the tension in your muscles. You stand under the water until it runs cold, slipping on Joel’s worn soft t-shirt.

Your pillow is back on your side of the bed, Joel still on his side. A smile creeps onto your face. He keeps his eyes closed, but you know he’s awake. You don’t say anything as you slide into bed, but your anxiety spikes, your heart fluttering in your chest. You have to tell him. 

You’re staring at the ceiling when he breaks the silence. “What happened?” 

You suck in a breath. He thinks something went wrong tonight. He’s probably preparing to dig a grave. “Nothing, mom and babies are fine.”

“So it was twins?” 

“Yeah.” You had suspected as much, but the ultrasound machine doesn’t work, try as you might to get it operational. You hadn’t been able to find a second heartbeat with the Doppler. 

“So what’s buggin you?” His drawl is deeper, soaked with sleep. 

He scoots a little closer, hot breath tickling your ear. You can’t move. You should look him in the eye when you tell him, but you can’t. The words are at the back of your throat surging forward toward your lips. The anxiety in your chest feels like a herd of buffalo stomping across the countryside. You squeeze your eyes shut to try and stop it.

“Sweetheart?” His hand reaches toward you, eyes trained on your profile as concern laces his brow. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

His hand stops over your arm. You feel its warmth so close, and then it goes away. You dare to look at him. You expect him to get out of bed and bolt. You don’t know why. He’s only shown you otherwise the entirety of your relationship, but this is more than either of you signed up for. Instead, you watch as it sinks in. He connects the dots, all the symptoms and signs that were right in front of his face, his subconscious absorbing them, but refusing to put it all together. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.

You look back toward the ceiling, tears slipping from your eyes. 

His hand covers your abdomen, forehead pressing against your temple. He starts to feel the changes to your body for what they are. You shudder. 

“How long have you known?”

There’s not a trace of judgment or fear in his voice, but it does little to assure you. You’re scared. It doesn’t matter what Joel says or does, the fear is overwhelming. 

“Beginning of August.”

“Shit, baby.” He pulls you into him, cradling your head against his chest. “You didn’t have to carry this alone.”

“I didn’t think it would last.” After months of holding the tears back, you finally let them out, a mix of relief and fear. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to-” 

You can’t finish it. You can’t say it out loud, but Joel knows what you’re trying to say. You didn’t want him to lose another child, and it wrecks him. His grip on you is crushing, but it soothes your shaking frame. Just as you come down, his sobs greet your ear because he’s scared too. Every single fear and anxiety that has come over you the past months, he feels too. Maria’s labor and delivery flash through his mind. If that happens to you, who’s going to save you? 

You reach up to cradle his face. He presses into your neck. Your skin is sticky and salty again, but you don’t even think about it as the man you love and can’t tell cries in your arms. You’re unable to return his soothing squeeze, but you lay there to provide any comfort you can. The two of you fall asleep tangled in each other. 

You feel Joel’s fingers dancing across your abdomen before you’re fully conscious. There’s no rhyme or reason to his movements. His other hand brushes over your temple and through your hair. Every once in a while you feel his breath and lips across your neck, up and down your arm, over your collarbone. It feels like he’s memorizing you, fear present in all of his movements even now. 

You finally open your eyes. His movements still as you look at him. There are tears in his eyes as his head falls forward, resting against yours. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.” You reach out, nails raking across his arm. 

He shudders under your touch. “I wish you told me sooner.” 

You bit your lips. “I’m sorry.” 

He lets out a deep sigh, kissing your forehead. His hand drifts to your abdomen again. You watch his eyes, so expressive filled with fear and anxiety and maybe a little bit of awe and guilt?

“I should’ve been more careful.”

You press your head to his, inhaling softly. “We.”

Joel’s fingers scrape along your jaw, his beard rough against your chin. “I like being a we.”

“Me too.”

Silence settles between the two of you. The wind knocks against the window, but it’s warm next to Joel. His arm snakes around you, tugging you closer to him. 

“I suppose you’ve told Maria?”

You can’t hide the guilty smile on your lips. “If it makes a difference, she told me I needed to tell you right away. Pretty sure she was gonna tell you herself if I didn’t do it soon.” You mess with the collar of his shirt. 

“How long do we have?”

“Figure it’ll be May. If we get that far.” You say. Joel nods and something clenches around your heart, a need to protect him, warn him of the danger. “You know there’s a lot of risks. No guarantee…” 

“One day at a time.” He kisses your cheek but you see all the fear he’s pushing away plastered to his face like a movie poster. 

Joel asks you how you are, but other than that, you don’t talk about it. You feel like a weight has lifted off your shoulders but there’s an anvil hanging above your head, waiting to drop at a moment’s notice. 

You’ve outgrown your last pair of jeans. When you manage to trade with someone, they give you a look, like they know what’s going on inside your body. 

You take more naps, sometimes at the clinic, sometimes on the couch. You’re constantly tired. Maria brings dinner to the house every few days. She never asked, but you don’t complain. 

One evening you open your eyes to find Ellie staring down at you, worry etched in her features. It startles you at first. 

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” She says. 

“You’ve noticed?” You pull yourself into a seated position. It feels like someone shoved a bunch of cotton into your mouth. You reach for the now room-temperature water on your end table. 

“You only take naps when you’re sick or depressed.” You raise an eyebrow at her. She crosses her arms as if to say she knows you’re neither right now. “What’s going on?”

You finish off the water. Despite its temperature, it helps. “I’m fine.” You reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder, but it does nothing. At 17 years old, Ellie is turning into a woman before your very eyes. At times, you’re convinced any semblance of childhood has been replaced with adulthood, but there are other times you still see the slivers of the girl you met two and a half years ago. Right now, she’s the one sitting in front of you.  

“Bullshit. What’s going on? You and Joel have been acting weird.”

Had things really been that different in the past couple of weeks? You open your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. You and Joel hadn’t talked about telling anyone, which seemed silly. You can’t hide this forever. 

The door opens and Carter bursts in with Joel on his heels. A smile instantly finds your lips. 

“Mommy! Look!” He holds up a package of seemingly new Crayola crayons. 

Your eyes widen with exaggeration. “Wow, buddy. That’s awesome.”

“John Lacy found a bunch of them on patrol. They handed them out today,” Joel smiles. “Grabbed you some colored pencils.” He hands a set of non-crayola pencils to Ellie.

“Thanks.” She smiles but is still distracted by her worry over you. 

Carter crawls up beside you, eagerly pulling out the surprisingly intact crayons one by one. Joel leans over to kiss your cheek and tousles Ellie’s hair. She makes a face of displeasure but doesn’t fight him on it.

“You two look like you were talkin about somethin serious.”

“I was trying to figure out why the two of you have been acting weird,” Ellie says. 

Joel’s drops to unreadable. He looks at you and you shrug in response. “We have to tell them eventually.”

Worry makes its home on Ellie’s face. “So something is wrong with you.with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You sigh deeply. You run your fingers over Carter’s head, kissing it. 

“You’re sure acting like there is,” She says impatiently.

“Ellie,” Joel reprimands, traces of his asshole voice laced into it. 

Ellie bites her lip. It looks like she might be fighting off tears as she looks directly at you. “I’m worried about you.”

You force a smile, leaning forward. Your forearms rest on your knees. One would think it would get easier to say each time. Instead, it’s like picking at a scab that’s not healed. You’re forcing yourself to say something, your brain isn’t ready to accept. “I’m pregnant.”

Ellie sits up straighter, her eyes widen with shock. “Oh wow…”

You wonder if the pictures fill her mind too. She saw Maria the night Elias was born. She saw the blood that covered you. Joel’s fingers brush over your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before they run over the back of your neck. You lean against him. “I’m sorry we worried you. We’re still getting used to the idea,” You say. 

She nods and then her arms around your neck. She basically knocks you backward with the force of it. “I’m glad you’re not dying.”

You squeeze her tightly, a faint lilt of humor in your voice. “Me too.”

Then her voice drops to a whisper right at your ear. “You’ll be okay. I know you will.”  

Your head rests on Joel’s bare chest that night. The full moon sends light drifting through your window, casting the room in a cool glow. You play absentmindedly with the hair on his chest. His heart beats under your ear. The room is otherwise silent. 

“I told Tommy today.” 

You nod. 

“He wanted to know why I was so quiet. Told him I was always quiet.”

That pulls a smile across your lips. “Surprised he shut up long enough to notice.”

Joel chuckles. His arm around you tightens. His lips find your forehead. “I know we’re not ready to think too much about it.”

“Don’t think it’s something we can really ignore.” You nuzzle further into him. 

“Baby steps.” He kisses your nose this time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Baby steps? Really?” You flip onto your stomach while you still can.

He chuckles. “Poor word choice.”

You kiss his bicep and then his shoulder. He looks at you like your entire world and your stomach erupts in butterflies and twists in knots all at the same time. You still won’t let him say it, but you feel it every time he looks at you like that. 

You rest your chin on his shoulder. “What are these steps you had in mind?”

His thumb traces over your jaw and cheek. “Don’t bolt on me, okay?”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

He chuckles and then inhales deeply. “I think we should probably share a house. I figured you’d prefer to stay here, but it’s up to you.” He searches your eyes for any signs of panic or signs that you might shut down but finds nothing. In fact, you’re so calm that it’s hard to read. 

“It would be nice to have you officially living here,” you say. It feels right to say, to think about. “And Ellie if she wants.” 

“That was easier than I’d thought it would be.”

“You pretty much live here as is.” You turn on your side, nuzzling back into him. “I’ll miss your fireplace though.”

Joel smiles. “Guess I'll just have to keep you warm instead.” 

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 17

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: Ready for some feels? ❤️‍🩹

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, injuries, hurt/comfort and feels, tinge of spice.~

Part 17: “The Real Deal”

The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.

Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.

“She has carbon monoxide poisoning,” he said. Dean’s brows furrowed, but before he could start worrying too badly, Sam cut in again. “She’s okay. They’ve got her on 100% oxygen. Eileen and Andréa are with her right now.”

Dean nodded on a breath of relief, despite coughing himself. He still wore an oxygen mask, but he knew his exposure hadn’t been as bad as yours.

“CO poisoning’s no joke. Don’t let her take off that damn mask for anything until they clear her,” he said.

Sam raised a placating hand. “Don’t worry. She knows she’s got to stay put this time.”

Dean shook his head. You were so damn stubborn. He still couldn’t believe you’d dragged yourself out of bed within minutes of waking up, just to see him.

…Well, he could believe it, but he didn’t have to like it.

“Okay, do you need anything before Eileen and I run home to get you guys some stuff?” Sam asked.

He’d already drawn up a list for both you and Dean of things you two would need for the next couple of days in the hospital. Dean’s stay would likely be longer than yours.

“Nah, I’m good, man,” Dean replied.

He was still trying to find a comfortable position in bed. His back couldn’t fully touch the mattress, so he had to lie on one side or the other. Truth be told, it sucked. His head swam with the effects of the painkillers and antibiotics they were pumping him with, along with his head injury.

While his body wanted to keep sleeping, Dean wanted to see you. He wanted to make sure you were all right. He wanted to know what happened before the fire, and how you’d found out about Nick being Azazel’s son.

And he wanted to get you both home.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to get to do any of those things, any time soon.  

Sam saw his discomfort and frowned in sympathy. He went over to help Dean shift onto his other side. Dean shot him a look of annoyance, but Sam was firm.

“Let me help, or I’m calling Nurse Jeff,” he warned.

Dean's lips pursed. Jeff was nice and all, but Dean could concede this time. At least when it was his brother helping him, he didn’t feel like a complete invalid.  

“Andréa’s gonna stay with her?” Dean asked, while Sam helped him ease over and nodded at his question.

“Yeah. Ellen and Jo are on the way too. They’ll keep you company.”

Dean wanted to quip that he didn’t need a babysitter, but he held it in. It would be nice to see Ellen. He remembered seeing his father, briefly, before he fell back asleep. Sam told him John had gone back to the precinct to work out their protective detail, once you and Dean were eventually discharged from the hospital.

Over the last few hours, the rest of his team from Firehouse 25 had come in to see him in small groups, including Benny, Gordon, and Jack, Meg and Chuck, and Bobby himself, with his gruff worrying. Dean knew the Chief felt responsible anytime his firefighters got hurt, but Dean also knew the only one to blame was himself.

Still, he didn’t regret breaking ranks to go and find you. He’d never regret that choice.

Sam’s hand on his shoulder grounded Dean back into reality.

“Okay, I’ll be back,” said Sam.

Dean nodded, with a hint of a smile. “All right, Sasquatch. Get goin’ then.”   

Sam’s face betrayed his dry amusement…and a hint of fondness. He squeezed the shoulder he held, and hesitated, almost like he was steadying himself before he left his brother alone.

“Hey,” Dean said. He gave his little brother a true smile, if one edged with tiredness. “I’m okay. I don’t break easy.”

After a moment, Sam nodded. His lips flickered at a smile.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, clearing his throat. Before they both might’ve succumbed to a dreaded “chick flick moment,” as Dean called them, there was a knock at the door. Ellen’s head soon peeked through into the hospital room. She smiled as soon as her gaze landed on Sam and Dean.

“There’s my boys,” she said. Sam welcomed her in, along with Jo, before he slipped out. The Harvelles brought food, of course, for you and Dean. And Ellen had bought some flowers.

Dean took off his oxygen mask and teased her a little. “Ooh, for me? You shouldn’t have.”

Ellen shook her head at his familiar antics. Jo came up on his other side of his bed and gave him a softer smile than usual. He tried to return it.

“These are for your girl,” said Ellen. “How’s she doin’? Have you been able to see her?”

Dean’s good humor dimmed. “She’s got carbon monoxide poisoning from the fire, but Sam tells me she’s resting. I haven’t been able to get over there yet.”

Ellen frowned, but she nodded and rubbed his arm. “Okay, well you just stay here and rest. I’ll go over and bring these to her, make sure she’s doing all right. Then I’ll come back and give you a full report. How’s that?”

Dean met her gaze with relief and gratefulness in his. “Thanks, Ellen.”

She nodded, giving him a motherly pat on the cheek. Maybe her brown eyes welled up with tears she would refuse to shed. And maybe Dean pretended he didn’t see them, knowing how she’d hate for him to call her out.  

“You two are gonna be just fine,” she said. Dean agreed with a nod and a smile. She left soon after with the flowers, discreetly wiping at her face.

When the door shut behind her, Jo took a seat beside his bed. She was looking around at the wires, the monitors, the minor burns and scrapes on his face, while trying not to look at the gauze spanning his upper back.

“How’re you really feeling?” she asked eventually, when she was able to meet his gaze.

Dean chuckled a little. “Like shit.”

She laughed too, though it soon ended in tears. She bit her lip against it, with her eyes squeezing shut.

Dean faltered. “Hey, none a’ that.”

It was an effort, but he reached for her shoulder. She clasped his hand there, then she held it between both of hers. Dean squeezed her hands.

“I’m okay. Scouts honor,” he said. He wished he didn’t have to keep telling people that, but here they were.

When she drew his hand against her cheek though, Dean internally sighed. He had to pull away.

Jo felt the loss of his hand, and of him. She looked up at him with sad blue eyes. Dean couldn’t answer her. Or at least, he couldn’t give her the one she wanted.

She ducked her head and tried not to cry harder.

“Jo,” Dean sighed. “Listen to me.”

She wiped at her face and managed to look up at him again. He was direct, but still gentle as he could be.

“You know I love you like family,” he said, “but you also know…I can’t be that guy for you.”

Her brows furrowed as she shook her head. “We had something, Dean.”

“We did,” he acknowledged. He could admit that much, even as he blew out a breath. “I fucked it up.”

At that, Jo’s face shifted towards resignation. “I did my fair share.”

“You were worried about me on the job, that’s all.”

“But you also didn’t fight for me. The second it got hard, you left and called it quits.”

“I know,” Dean admitted. He thought hard, and he nodded. He was a different man when he and Jo began. He hadn’t totally figured out what it was he wanted. He’d just known, instinctively, that it was different with her. He’d wanted to try to be more for her.

But, he’d let Ellen’s warnings and his own fears take over. He knew he’d been a coward, and at the time, he’d convinced himself that Jo was better off without that in her life. He knew now how that had just been a nice justification for breaking her heart.

“I know,” he repeated. “I guess I wasn’t ready for the real deal…but you’re the first one who made me want to try.”

Jo heaved a tremulous sigh, laced with tears that she brushed away from her face. She had already known it, deep down, but now she supposed she had closure. She knew now that he loved you, for real.

“And she’s the one who made it stick,” Jo supplied.

“Yeah,” Dean said. The truth was in his eyes. She’s the one.

After a moment, in which Jo locked away the rest of her heartbreak and denied herself a flash of jealousy, she wiped her face dry and looked up at Dean.  

“Then you rest up,” she said, with a small smile and red-rimmed eyes. “And whatever happens next, you better fight for her.”

Dean smiled back. He gestured at his prone form with a hand.

“And what do you think I’m doing here?”

“Looks to me like you’re sitting on your ass,” she quipped.

Dean laughed so hard he started coughing. Jo shook her head and helped him put his oxygen mask back on.

“God, you’re a mess,” she said.

Dean gave her a mock incredulous look. “Hey, no sympathy for the injured here?”

“If it was sympathy you wanted, you should’ve kept the mask on.”

Hours later, Sam and Eileen came back freshly showered and with plenty of clothes and necessities for you and Dean. And when his hospital room door opened, Dean fought through the haze of the drugs and his swimming head to wake up. He smiled at Eileen, who stepped through the door first. But then his eyes widened.

Sam carefully guided you in a wheelchair, with your oxygen tank rolling in next to you. You held the mask to your face, but Dean still spotted the edge of your smile.

Your eyes shone bright with unshed tears the closer you came. He had to clear his throat himself before he reached for your hand at the same time you held out for his.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey, yourself,” Dean replied. He brought your hand to his lips and held it there. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

“I’m okay, thanks to you,” you said, smiling, even though your voice shook. Tears slipped down your cheeks. Your lips trembled, and your face ducked down. “I’m so…so sorry.”

Dean frowned and squeezed your hand. “Don’t you do that. This isn’t on you.”

You shook your head, like you didn’t believe him. Or you didn’t want to believe.

He wasn’t having that.

“Hey, look at me,” he demanded. He tugged on your hand, until finally you did as he said. Your eyes were red and spilling over with tears. It made his heart clench, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sam holding Eileen close. Both of them were getting emotional, though Sam was trying not to. 

Jo stood with her mother in the corner. While Ellen dabbed at her eyes, Jo had to avert her gaze. That part, Dean didn't notice, because his lips pressed together as he returned his attention back to you.

“You don’t gotta worry about me,” he said. “I’ll shake this in a few weeks. Tops.”

You nodded, but your denial was still obvious as your shoulders trembled. He could see there was no reasoning with you on this one, so he just tugged you closer—as close as you could get without leaving your wheelchair or taking off your oxygen mask.

He managed to reach for your face, soothing his thumb across your tear-stained cheek. You covered his hand and kept him there, for as long as he was able.

You were discharged from the hospital a couple of days later. It was a few more before Dean was able to join you. He wasn’t happy to learn that his head injury would put him out of commission for at least one to three months.

You wished he would be more fair to himself. He’d suffered a subdural hematoma after he was struck by the beam. The doctor officially labelled it a TBI, or a concussion, and he was already dealing with headaches and bouts of vertigo.

Not to mention the large second-degree burn that was only just starting to heal across his upper back. The doctor also warned that he might suffer some mood swings, due to the head injury.

Meanwhile, you were starting to recover from your cuts and yellowing bruises. Though the carbon monoxide had been driven out of your system, you still had your own headaches, nausea, and a lingering cough.

You both were a bit of a mess. Sam and Eileen had incredible patience, and you were so grateful for their help in those first days back home in Sam and Dean’s apartment. However, you couldn’t shake off your nature to help as much as you could in taking care of Dean while Sam and Eileen were back at work.

You knew your boyfriend wasn’t used to being catered to. He didn’t like being, what he deemed in his mind, “useless.” In your mind, that was just too damn bad. He was going to be cared for whether he liked it or not.

So you helped Dean adjust where he lied in bed for the third time this morning, arranging the pillows just so. All while you ignored his crabby mood.

“How’s that?” you asked, fluffing one more pillow between the small of his back and the headboard. You’d managed to find a way for him to sit up without his upper back touching the bedframe.

“Fine,” he said grumpily. He was channel surfing on the TV above his dresser. “And it was fine half an hour ago.” 

His mood was always dour after a shower; it meant you had to help him stand, and make sure he didn’t kill himself by slipping and falling. You sighed and brushed your fingers through his wet hair, mindful of the shaved and bandaged portion on the back of his head. He sure was an awful patient. 

“You used to like it when I joined you in the shower,” you tried to tease gently. He shot you a glance.

“Yeah, that was before I could barely piss standing up,” he replied. You rubbed his arm.

“Come on, babe. Don’t be like this. You’ll be healed up in a couple of months, and we can put this behind us,” you said. If he really wanted you not to feel guilty about his current state, then he was doing a bang-up job.

Dean turned to you then, and you understood the look on his face. Will it really be over?

You couldn’t fault him for it because you didn’t know the answer either. You both knew that Savage & Co. burning down was likely just another battle with Azazel, not the end of the war. 

And that was when John and Cas arrived for a visit, with the doorbell interrupting the silence. It was the first time they’d come together, and that told you one thing: this was more than a familial check-in.

You welcomed them into the apartment and made some coffee for everyone. Cas helped you get the mugs ready in the kitchen. Meanwhile, it gave John a moment with his son.

John dragged a desk chair over and sat by Dean’s side of the bed.

“How’s your head?” John asked.

Dean nodded, though his face said he wished people would stop asking him that.

“On the mend,” he replied instead.

John nodded in return. The space between them was awkward and quiet, except for the drone of the TV. Both men had their protective walls and their thoughts, but neither one was able to lower their guard.

When you and Cas came into the room with fresh coffee, it was a silent relief all around. You sat beside Dean in bed and handed him a mug of decaf. You might’ve claimed it was the real stuff, but Dean’s nose knew the difference; he didn’t play when it came to his coffee. Yet another reason why he hated being on these antibiotics. 

“So, let’s start from the beginning,” John said. He lowered his mug into his lap and looked straight at you. “What happened before the fire? Start from the very top of the day.”

You took in a deep breath and glanced at both Cas and Dean. Cas seemed encouraging, while Dean looked just as grave and interested as his father. 

You explained everything from the moment Marv came to give you his report, intended for Nick. You were going to just leave it with his assistant, but his office door had been open a crack, and you’d heard the voices within. You’d been curious enough to approach the door and listen in.

You recounted what you’d heard between Nick and the other man.

“We’re working together on this,” said Nick. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”

“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.

Your eyes widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!

“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.

Your eyes widened. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.

You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.

You remembered going back to your office, just to find Nick Savage waiting for you.

Dean’s grip on the bedsheets tightened when you told that part of the story. You tried to spare the details, but there were some things you couldn’t avoid…

A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.

But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.

It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.

On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser.

“After I…managed to get out of my office, that’s when I saw the smoke,” you said. Your voice became a tad more unsteady as the memories flit through your mind.

“It was chaos. People were getting trampled trying to get down the stairs…and when we saw the fire coming from below too, I barely made it out of the stairwell.”

You raised a slightly trembling hand to your mouth, but a warm hand slipped into yours, taking it from you. You met Dean’s furrowed brows and softened eyes.

“Come ‘ere,” he said quietly. You let him pull you towards him, against his side, and you blinked past the sting of tears.

“The rest you guys know,” you continued. “I couldn’t get out. Dean and his guys came and found me. He got hurt trying to get us out of there.”

Dean’s hand rubbed up and down your arm in comfort. He pressed a kiss to your forehead while you wiped at the few tears that managed to escape.

“Did you see Nick at all after what happened in the office?” John asked.

You shook your head. “No. I hope he burned to a damn crisp.”

“He’s officially missing, but his body hasn’t yet been identified from the remains at the building site,” said Cas.

That sobered you. You knew there were many people who hadn’t made it out of the building in time. You just couldn’t fathom the kind of person who would intentionally set that fire, damn the costs.

“What about the other man he was talking to?” John asked. You shook your head, but you provided a detailed description of him, from what you could remember: tall and lean, graying short hair, a nasal sounding voice.

“Any other details you can remember? Anything at all. Could be something you saw or heard, or even smelled,” John pressed.

Your lips pursed. The stress alone of reliving all of this was giving you a headache, not to mention making your chest feel tight. Your reply was a bit more clipped than you intended.

“What, other than the part where I was fighting for my life?” you said. “I think I gave a pretty good statement of the events, Detective.”

John paused. His mouth firmed, but he watched you with more sympathetic eyes. Dean saw that his father was trying to ease up. He rubbed your back in comfort again.

“All right, it’s okay,” said Dean. “You did good.”

You glanced at him and took a small, steadying breath. You relaxed a bit and met John’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you said, with sincerity. “If I remember something else, I’ll let you know.”

John nodded.

“That’s all right. We’ve got enough to arrest Nick Savage on assault charges, once we find him.” He shared a brief look with Cas. “In the meantime, we’ve got a couple of guys stationed outside the apartment building here. They’ll keep an eye on things.”

You and Dean nodded; it was a relief, but also disconcerting to know the police were watching you. A chime on your phone soon distracted you though. You reached over for where it lay on your nightstand and read the reminder notification. You turned to Dean.

“Ready for your pain meds?” you asked him. You saw the answer in the tightness around his tired eyes. You rubbed a soothing hand on his thigh. “You should eat something first though. Want some of the soup Eileen made?”

Dean shrugged, making an unenthusiastic sound. Your head tilted as you considered him. Then, an idea struck you.

“Ooh, I could make you a grilled cheese on the side,” you offered in a tempting tone. Your leading smile was just enough to get Dean to smile back, if more reserved.

“Hmm?” you prompted. “Come on, three different cheeses on some buttery bread…”

His smile became more genuine. “Okay, sounds good.”

You nodded and pat his thigh once more. You looked up at the detectives.

“You guys want lunch?” you asked. John started to shake his head, but Dean cut in.

“Trust me, you want to get in on this,” he said. The promise of your cooking managed to cut through some of the haze of his pain and discomfort.

Cas conceded first, with a nod. Though he got up from where he’d been sitting at the end of the bed.

“I’ll help,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. He soon followed you downstairs into the kitchen.

Again, it left father and son glancing at one another in silence. John was leaning elbows on his knees, hands folded. His lips drew upwards as he looked up at his oldest.

“Want some advice from an old man?” he asked.

“What’s that?” Dean replied.

John nodded, quirking a smile. “Hold onto that girl.”

A couple of weeks later, however, tensions were still running high. Dean was frustrated with his own inability, worsening with each bout of vertigo, and every time the pain in his skull necessitated a pill to cope with it. Part of it was also that he needed so much of your help when Sam was at work.

Every time Dean saw you cooking, cleaning, changing his bandages, reminding him to take his meds, helping him get around when he was feeling off…

He was grateful, more than you knew. He just couldn’t feel right about letting you do it all when he saw how tired you were. You were still healing up too. And he could only imagine how stressed you were after everything you’d been through in the past few weeks. Hell, in the past few months.

He felt guilty, and useless, and angry at how you’d gotten caught up in all this, and at Nick Savage and Azazel and everything in between.

So Dean now stewed in all of this while he sat watching mindless reruns of some dumbass show about fake ghost hunters, even though he was trying not to think of anything at all. Somehow he had nothing to do but think, even though the meds he was taking often made him want to crawl into bed and sleep.

You appeared from down the hall, looking and smelling like your nice floral soap after a shower, wearing nothing more than one of his old shirts. Your thighs were bare. Your hair was twisted up on top of your head, just asking to be taken down with a practiced hand. 

Dean liked the look of you.

Not that I can do anything about it, came a dull reminder.

You came around the couch with a roll of gauze and a medicated cream for his burns.

“Okay, Dean. Let’s go ahead and change the bandages,” you said, nodding at his back.

He was reluctant to move. He was finally somewhat comfortable sitting in the corner of the couch with a shit ton of pillows propped against his lower back. And he hadn’t told you this, but a headache had been building for the last hour. He’d been trying to wean himself off the pain meds.

“It can wait until Sam gets home,” he said. “Why don’t you relax? Take a nap or something.”

You frowned at him, tilting your head. “Sam works late every night. Doesn’t it make more sense to get it over with now?”

“You see it would, if you hadn’t already done it yesterday,” Dean replied, with a dry edge to his tone.

You arched a brow at him. You'd re-bandaged the burn across his back yesterday morning. It was now late afternoon.

“The doctor said once a day,” you said. “You want to get an infection?”

The back of Dean’s head pulsed with pain. He gritted his teeth in trying to ignore it.

“You want to get off my back? Literally?” he snarked.

You frowned at him and set down the medical supplies. Your hands went to your hips as you looked down at him.

“I don’t appreciate the attitude,” you said. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“I get that, but you don’t have to take care of me right now,” he said. “You can just let me watch this shitty-ass show in peace.”

Your brows knitted together. Both of you were stubborn, if in different flavors. You tried to come at it with a gentler approach, drawing near him to set a hand on his shoulder.

“I know it’s unpleasant, but you can’t change your bandages by yourself,” you said. Your thumb swept along his neck. You really hated seeing him in so much discomfort. “Don’t you want to get it over with so you can relax for the rest of the day?”

A sharper pain pulsed behind his eyes for a moment, making Dean take in a deeper breath through his nose. He could later admit, he lost patience with you (and his temper).

He turned off the TV and tossed down the remote.

“What is this compulsive need you have to control everything? Do everything?” he snapped. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t need you to wipe my ass! Just give it a goddamn rest!”

Irritation was hot under his skin…until he actually looked up at your face. The open-mouthed look of shock, and hurt, your eyes welling up with tears as your hand fell away from his shoulder…

That’s when Dean knew this concussion was fucking with him.

There was no way he could be this much of an asshole, could he?

“Shit. Baby,” he tried, but you shook your head at him, making a negative sound when he reached for you. You walked away from him.

“Hold on!” said Dean. His first attempt to get off the couch was unsuccessful, and it made his head swim.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He grimaced in annoyance, but he used the couch and the coffee table as leverage and pushed through onto his feet.

Once he knew he was steady, he thought he heard you in the kitchen. He found you there, trying to hide your face behind the open door of the pantry while you cried. It broke his heart, really.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. His hand rested on your back, prompting you to look up at him with red, watery eyes.

“What now?” you asked. “Want to yell at me some more?”

Dean’s sad frown deepened as he tugged you closer, guiding you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. I don’t know where the hell that came from.” 

Maybe the knife stabbing through the back of your head, 'cause you're too stubborn to take all your damn meds, came the dry edge of his conscience.

You held onto him as tightly as you dared while you pressed your tear-stained face into his chest.

“That wasn’t you, Dean,” you said. “I get that you’re in pain, and that you're frustrated, but you don’t have to white-knuckle it. Or take it out on me, for that matter.”

“…I know,” he agreed, laying a kiss on your forehead. “If it happens again, I give you full permission to slap me. Concussion be damned.”

You snorted at that, despite a couple more tears slipping down your cheeks. You wiped them away.

“I know I was being a bit pushy,” you said, with a sigh. “But Sam does work late. I’d feel like shit just lying around here waiting for him to help you. And I’m the reason this all happened anyway, so I might as well—”

“Wait. Stop,” Dean said. He pulled away so he could grasp your arms and look down at you. His brows furrowed, and his jaw worked. “What did you just say?”

You looked up at him, and he saw the vulnerability in your eyes. Your lips pressed together, and you averted your gaze.

“No,” he said, curling his fingers under your chin and lifting your face back up to his. He didn’t like what he saw.

“Okay. Sit with me,” he said. He guided you to the dining table, where he pulled out both chairs. After you sat, he raised a waiting finger to you, just so he could grab his prescription from the kitchen counter and down what should've been his morning dose of pain medication with some water. Then he returned to the table and sat across from you.

By the time he got you to look at him again, your eyes were already filled with tears. He took your hands in both of his.

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault,” Dean said at last. He’d said it before, but apparently it hadn’t gotten through your head.

“You disobeyed a direct order to find me,” you argued. 

“I would’ve gotten called to that fire no matter what,” Dean countered. Still, that didn’t seem to sway you.

“You don’t know what it was like,” you said. You squeezed his hands, and your voice shook. “When I saw you in the ICU…”

All those wires, the newly wrapped burns, the oxygen mask, his skin pale and clammy, and his eyes closed…

“Before you got to me, of course I was scared. For a minute there, I thought I was going to die,” you managed to say. His hold tightened on yours. “But in that room, it was…it was different. It was you, but it was also my grandfather all over again. And I was so damn afraid.”

After that confession, you crumbled once again.

Dean slid his chair forward and held you close. His fingers swept through your hair after taking down your haphazard bun. He managed to pull you into his lap and he shushed you gently.

He glanced up heavenward and actually asked George for the right thing to say to you right now, because he had no damn clue.

After a moment, he released a humorless chuckle.

“You wanna know fear?” he said. “When my dad told me what you’d found out about Nick. And when I got the call that the building was on fire, somehow, I knew you were still in there.”

His fingers brushed along the shallow cut above your brow that was still healing.

“You had to deal with that bastard by yourself. That alone pretty much kills me,” Dean admitted. “And if I hadn’t gotten to you when I did…I’ll never regret that. Ever. I’ll take the whole damn building on top of me if that’s what it takes.”

You leaned back and shook your head at him, but he took your chin between his fingers and stilled you.   

“But I told you,” Dean said firmly. “I’m not leaving you.”

Your eyes met his before you let out a shaky breath. Maybe this time you would believe him.

He leaned down and kissed you soundly, so you’d get the idea. Your hand reached up to caress his cheek, and you moaned when his tongue caressed yours. His hand tightened on your hip.

“Dean.” Your warning was gentle. The doctor hadn’t cleared this yet for him, and he knew it.

“Just a little bit,” he said, smiling against your lips. His hand slipped under your (his) shirt and teased the edge of your panties.

You sighed with conflicting need when you felt the pads of his fingers stroke you through the fabric. It also stroked your arousal back to life.

“Okay, bedroom,” you caved. “But go easy. I’m serious, Dean.”

He smirked and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Oh, I’ll definitely be easy.”

AN: Lol trust Dean to push his limits there. 😅 We also got some closure on the Jo & Dean arc, some supportive Sam and Eileen, and some major feels.

In Part 18, Sam and John work together to try and pin down Nick and Daniel/Azazel, Law & Order style...

Next Time:

The charges included four counts of murder in the first degree: the murders-for-hire, enacted by Alastair Rolston.

Followed by attempted murder in the first degree, ten counts of murder in the second degree (those who had lost their lives in the most recent building fire), conspiracy to commit murder, arson, and if that weren’t enough, a charge each of attempted sexual assault and sexual harassment.

When the last two charges were read out loud in the courtroom, Nick looked visibly angry.

Sam glanced over at the defendant with thinly veiled satisfaction. Some days, it was difficult for him to come to work.

Today was not that day.

“All right, that is a laundry list of potential misdeeds,” Judge Deveraux remarked. He looked up at Nick Savage. “How does the defendant plead?”

At the prodding of his lawyer, Amelia Richardson, Nick spoke up.

“Not guilty,” he said. Though he rolled his eyes, as if this was a waste of his time.

“What’s the deal here, Mr. Winchester?” Judge Devereaux asked.

“The primary charges are murder-for-hire, your Honor,” Sam replied.

Keep Reading: PART 18

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[thetriumphantpanda]

baby, I'm the whole damn meal

I have no explanation other than I need to find myself a dbf!Joel of my own because this man is magic. Welcome to part 6 with our friendly neighbourhood DILF. Enjoy.

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary | Joel saves your ass by giving you a ride to work, and then promises you a night you won't forget.

Word Count | 4.2k

Warnings | As ever, blanket warning for dbf!Joel being a general menace. Age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), flirting, light sexting, edging/orgasm denial, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, protected PiV sex, aftercare.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Texas Sun Playlist

You’re late. Not exactly the first impression you were hoping to make on the start of your second week at work. It was sweltering outside, which meant you’d opted for a shorter and thinner dress to begin with, then thrown it off and gone for something more work-appropriate when you remembered the archives were basically like a freezer from the air-conditioning. You said a silent prayer to your beat-up car that it’s feeling generous with you on the drive into the city and will let the aircon work, so you don’t turn up looking like you’d run five miles. 

You grab your keys and your bag and bound out of the door, straight into the back of your dad, who is stood on the porch talking to Joel. 

“Woah, careful there, kiddo,” Your dad murmurs, catching you before you can fall back on your ass, “In a rush?” 

“If I don’t leave in the next thirty seconds, I’ll be late for work,” You explain, steadying yourself on your feet, “Oh, morning Joel.” You shoot over your dad’s shoulder, as if you hadn’t spotted him the second you opened the door. 

“Morning,” He shoots back, giving his signature smile to you, which causes a blush to flush across your cheeks, “You have a good day now.” 

“You too!” You call over your shoulder, unlocking your car and throwing your back in the back seat. 

You settle into the driver’s side and turn your key and groan, because of course the engine is spluttering and refusing to actually switch on. It’s like it can sense you’re in a rush, the one morning you really need it to cooperate with you, it decides it’s had enough. 

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” You mumble, letting your forehead hit the top of the steering wheel, “I ask one thing and you can’t even do that.” 

A light tapping on the driver’s window makes you jump, but it’s just Joel. You open the door slightly, “You need a ride?” 

“I don’t want you to go out of your way for me,” You mumble, “But yeah, I need a ride.” 

“I’m headin’ into town for some supplies so it’s no trouble at all, sugar,” He speaks quietly so your dad doesn’t catch the new nickname Joel’s got for you, “You hop into my truck, and we’ll get goin’ as soon as I’ve said goodbye to your old man.” 

You’re listening to their conversation as you reach for your bag and heat to the passenger side of Joel’s truck. 

“You make sure you bring the little lady over when she’s back,” Your dad is saying, “I’ll make sure to get the grill going.” 

“I will,” Joel promises, reaching out his hand for your dad to shake it, “I’ll catch you later, old man.” 

Your dad chuckles, “Make sure she pays you for gas, Joel!” He exclaims once Joel has turned around to make his way to his truck, “It’s her own fault for not buying a new car sooner.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” He shoots a look at you through his open driver’s side window, “I’ll make sure she pays for her ride.” 

You’re stunned into silence for a while as he sits down behind the wheel and makes to pull out of your dad’s driveway. He looks over at you and shrugs with a laugh, “You okay, darlin’?” 

“Are you for real?” You scoff, “You’re a subtle as a brick sometimes, Joel Miller.” 

“I didn’t say anythin’ that wasn’t true.” 

It’s too early in the morning for this, you decide, “What were you doing over here anyway?” 

“Your dad wanted to borrow some tools for somethin’,” He answers, pulling out of your street and onto the main road, “Brought ‘em over before I went to work.” 

You nod in understanding, “And Sarah, she’s back soon, right?” 

He hums in the affirmative, letting his palm rest on your knee, “Back tomorrow evenin’, means it might be harder to see you.” 

You take hold of his hand at your knee, “We always knew that Joel,” You turn and smile at him, “We’ll make it work.” 

It. Whatever it was, you were determined to make it work. In the space of a few weeks, he’d well and truly wormed his way under your skin and settled there, refusing to leave even if you’d wanted him to. Too caught up in how he fucked you and not wanting to cause him to run off into the sunset with your conversations of commitment, you’d skirted round asking what it was that you two were doing exactly. If it meant you could keep him by your side and buried deep inside you, you’d carry on avoiding the conversation too. 

“How about you come to mine after work?” He suggests, “I don’t know, tell ya’ dad you’re going out, I’ll pick you up and I can make the most of you while I still can?” 

You think for a second about how you’ll get that one past your dad. You’d been home straight after work every night last night, staying up only long enough to eat your dinner, before collapsing into bed. And it was a Monday night, who the hell goes out on a Monday night after work? But if this was the last time you were going to get Joel, in his house alone, you were damn sure you were going to do it. 

“Alright,” You agree, giving his hand a squeeze, “Pick me up at six?” 

“I’ll be ready and waiting, sugar.” 

*

“I promise I’ll be sensible dad,” You sigh, shoveling another forkful of salad into your mouth, “It’s just a few drinks, we won’t be that late.” 

“Alright, well, if you need pickin’ up earlier, you just call, okay?” You know he only means well when he goes into protective mode, but you’re twenty-five years old and managed to live in New York City for years without any real incident, “And if your designated driver starts drinkin’ you call me.” 

You feel your phone vibrate against your ear, signaling a text, “I will dad,” You spear another bit of lettuce with your fork, “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.” 

“See you later, kiddo,” He speaks, “Love you.” 

“Love you too!” 

As soon as you hang up, you’re checking your messages. It’s Joel. He’s a man of few words when it comes to texting, only ever really using it to make plans with you to sneak around somewhere. 

Joel Miller. 

Can’t stop thinking about you. 

You smile at your desk, resting your chin in your palm as you read it over. 

Can’t stop thinking about you either. 

You put your phone back on your desk and finish your lunch. Not only is he a man of few words when it comes to texting, but it usually takes him a good ten minutes to reply. You’ve seen him texting Sarah to the point that it’s actually comical. 

Been thinking of bending you over my kitchen counter, what do you think? 

You almost splutter the mouthful of water you were drinking all over the computer screen in front of you. Was Joel Miller attempting to sext you at work? 

Dangerous thoughts for the middle of the day. But you know I like being bent over just for you. 

This time he does take a few minutes to respond. You like to think you’ve got him flustered on whatever jobsite he’s at today, shoving his phone back into his pocket and taking deep breaths so he can go back to work with a clear head. 

I know you do baby. Gonna fuck you so good later, be feeling me for days. 

That’s not much of a change Joel, I always feel you for days after. 

You grab your phone and the list of documents your manager had given you to pull for the afternoon and head down into the archive itself. You check your phone, thankful there’s enough signal for any more of his messages to come through to you. 

Might not get the chance again for a while, gotta make sure you’re remembering me for as long as possible. 

You scoff a little, as if you’d ever forget. 

Gonna be in for a long night then? 

You start pulling the documents on the list, getting three down before your phone is vibrating again. 

If you can walk outta my house, I’ve not done it properly. 

You can feel the arousal pooling in your lower stomach, goosebumps peppering your skin at the thought of him doing just as he promised. Burying himself deep inside you, pounding his cock into from behind. You can already feel the delicious ache he usually leaves you with. 

I hope that’s a promise, Miller. Now stop distracting me and go back to work. 

His reply, for once, is almost instantaneous.

Yes ma’am. See you at six. 

The rest of the day is a blur. You’re too distracted by Joel’s promises that it takes you far longer than it should to finish pulling all the documents you needed. Then, when your mind wanders to visions of the last time he had you bent over a kitchen island, you have to double check where you’re distributing them to. You’re grateful when, at six o’clock, your colleague Hanna comes up behind you, your bag in her hand, to tell you it’s time to leave. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” She smiles. 

Hanna was close to your age, which was a welcome change to the mostly older women who worked in your team. She was Canadian, moving to Austin after her degree and you’d already become fast work friends. When you exit the building, Joel is stood against the hood of his truck, one ankle folded over the over, with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Who is that?” Hanna enquires when he waves at you. 

“That’s Joel,” You smile, not able to hide the pride that this man was yours, “He’s my…. Well, I actually don’t know what he is, but we fuck.” 

Hanna’s eyes dart between you and Joel, a smirk on her face, “Damn girl, get it.” 

You both break into fits of giggles before you give each other a hug, Hanna heading down to catch the bus to her apartment whilst you practically jog over to Joel’s truck. 

“What’s so funny?” He grumbles, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Oh nothing,” You tease, standing on your tiptoes to press another kiss to his lips, “Just happy to see you.” 

You feel his hand trail down your back to grip the globe of your ass through your dress, “You talkin’ about me, pretty girl?” He growls into your ear. 

“Might have been,” You shrug, “Just showing you off, handsome.” 

“Get in the damn truck.” He says with a playful swat to your ass. 

“Yes sir.” You smirk, hopping up into your seat. 

The drive back to his house in thick with tension. He’s got his hand on your leg, much like he had this morning, but this time his fingers are gripping into the meat of your thigh. Whenever it’s safe, his eyes are trailing over your body, dark with wanting. He pulls up outside his house in no time, taking a few moments to look up the street to make sure no-one is going to notice you sneaking in through his front door. 

When the coast is clear, you grab your bag and follow him to the door. He unlocks it and pushes it open, letting you through first. 

“You hungry, Joel?” You call over your shoulder once you’ve thrown your bag next to his couch, “We could order something in?” 

You’re rooting through his fridge for something cold to drink and don’t hear a reply. Gripping the tops of two bottles of beer, you stand back up, “Hey, Joel, did you hear me?!” You yell as you’re closing the fridge door. 

“I heard ya.” He’s standing at the kitchen island, leant on his palms, with those deep, brown eyes trailing over your body. 

“So, are you hungry?” You ask again, flicking the tops off the bottles before placing one down in front of him. 

His eyes drag slowly down your body as he tips his bottle to his lips, “I could eat, yeah.” 

“What are you hungry for?” You question, “We could get pizza, or maybe a Chinese takeout?”

He shakes his head, “Not hungry for those.” He shrugs. 

“Well, what are you hungry for?” 

“You.”

Your eyes widen at his words, “I’m not even really a snack Joel.” 

He’s shifted his position to be leaning on his hip at the end of the island with his hand outstretched to you, “Sugar, you’re so wrong,” He breathes as you take hold of his hand, “You’re a whole damn meal.” 

He’s leading you to the table and gesturing for you to sit on it, “You want me to sit on there?” You ask with a snort, not sure that it’s going to hold your weight. 

“I said I was hungry for ya, didn’t I?” Joel asks with an eyebrow raised, you nod in agreement though, “Well then sit down and let me eat that perfect pussy.” 

He steadies you with wide palms on your hips as you settle your ass on the table. Of course, it holds your weight, because he built it. You remember Sarah gushing over how he’d made it a few years back. 

Joel drops to his knees after he’s pulled the chair away from the table, his hands dragging from your hips to the hem of your dress just above your knees. He’s pushing the fabric up your thighs devastatingly slowly, pressing hot kisses to each inch of new skin he uncovers. You’re leaning back with your palms braced on the wood behind you, soft gasps tumbling from your lips at each touch of his lips to your skin. 

Once he’s shucked as much of the material to bunch at your waist as he can, his hands are back on your hips, this time under your dress, keeping you in place as he drags the same slow trail of kisses back down your other thigh until he reaches your knee. He’s hooking both of your legs over his shoulders, shuffling into you a little more on his knees before you can feel hit hot breath fanning the material of your underwear which is practically sticking to your core from arousal. 

“You gonna be all wet for me, sugar?” He asks, “All that textin’ got you worked up for me?

“What don’t you find out for yourself?” You challenge, feeling your legs shake on his shoulders from the slight chuckle he lets out. 

“Would rather you tell me,” He murmurs, planting a kiss on the skin of your groin, right where the seam of your underwear begins, “Tell me how hot I made ya?” 

“So fucking hot, Joel,” You whimper as he presses a similar kiss to the other side of your underwear, “Couldn’t think straight.” 

He’s gently running his thumb along the seam of your pussy through the cotton covering your core. It’s so featherlight that if you weren’t burning from every nerve ending, you’d probably have missed it, but it’s there, and it has you bucking your hips and begging for more friction. 

“So, if I peeled these off, you’d be soaked for me, right sugar?” 

You gather what sanity is left in your brain, reaching down between your thighs to take his chin in your hand, tilting his face to meet yours, “Why don’t you fuck around and find out, Joel Miller?” 

With his eyes on yours you swear you see something snap behind his brown orbs. His hands are practically ripping the material off your body. They’re thrown over his shoulder and forgotten, just like his need to incessantly tease you when the flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe along the now naked seam of your pussy. A soft sigh leaves your lips as his tongue mimics the movement once more, this time, the tip of his tongue dipping just below your folds to graze your clit, ever so gently. 

You’re widening your thighs, baring your naked cunt to his face. He’s got his hands splayed back on your hips to keep you still, his tongue once against licking a familiar stripe, this time through your folds, stopping to flick the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue yet again, but this time with more purpose than before, more purpose that to just tease you. This man between your thighs wants to devour you. 

Joel’s hands are spreading your pussy wide, baring your entire core to his mouth as his tongue moves from the precise movements over your clit, down to the weeping entrance. His tongue swirls and gathers the slick that has gathered there. 

“God, you taste so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,” He groans into your core, taking his time to swipe his tongue through the wetness again, “Best damn meal I ever had.” 

“Joel, please,” You beg, letting your fingers run through the dark strands of his hair, “It’s not enough.” 

You can feel his mouth grin into the skin of your pussy, he licks a stripe back up to your clit before focusing on your clit, making short and fast flicks to the bud with the tip of his tongue. Your grind your hips into his face, hands gripping at the back of his head to keep him in place because this is exactly what you needed. The movement of his tongue is precise, switching from short flicks in and up and down motion, to tight circles. It’s enough to have you teetering on the edge but still not enough. You’re shifting your ass to the edge of the table, hoping that bringing his tongue closer to you will help, but it doesn’t.

“Fingers, Joel,” You demand, groaning in frustration when his movements stop altogether, “Please baby, I need it so bad.” 

“All you had to do was ask nicely.” He says, pulling back just enough to give him room to speak before you feel two of his thick fingers pushing inside of you. 

He curls them up into your pussy almost immediately, whilst his lips wrap around your clit. The pressure of him sucking on your clit, teamed with his still precise flicks, and the thrusting of his fingers inside you have you hurtling towards the cliff face of your orgasm in record time. You’re so close you can almost reach out a hand and grab it to pull yourself over the edge. Joel knows it, can feel your pussy clenching and fluttering around his fingers, and the son of a bitch pulls his fingers and mouth from you just before you can come. 

“No!” You exclaimed, looking down at him with wide eyes full of frustration, you’re pulling at his hair to try and get him to put himself back on you, “Nonononono.” You whine in frustration as he stands from his knees. 

He dips down, pressing a kiss wet with your slick to your cheek, bringing his lips to your ear, “Patience sugar,” He chuckles, hands moving to undo his belt, “Promise it’ll feel better if you wait for it.” 

Your chest is heaving, pussy fluttering around nothing as you sit and watch as he sheds his jeans, kicking them backwards to join your underwear on the kitchen floor. Then he’s tugging his t-shirt over his head. If you weren’t so angry with him, you’d be able to appreciate the broad expanse of his chest, the way the muscles of his biceps clenched whenever he moved. All you could focus on was the intense need to chase the high he’d deprived you of. You weren’t even overly bothered when he helps you stand, dragging your dress over your body to meet it on the floor with the rest of his clothes. You’re aware of the fact that he unclips your bra, grateful more than anything that it’s off after a long day. 

Then, Joel is turning you around, placing his warm palm at the nape of your neck and pushing you down to the table. Your palms are resting on the wood in front of you. You turn around and watch as he fishes a condom from his wallet, shucking his boxers off before sheathing himself. 

“Gonna fuck you so good, pretty girl,” He murmurs behind you, using one of his feet to kick gently at your ankle, causing you to widen your stance, “Promised you I would.”

You can feel the head of his cock nudging at your slick entrance before he’s slowly burying himself inside you to the hilt. You let out a whine of satisfaction at the feeling of him filling you. He pulls himself back a little before he’s slamming back into your pussy like he means it this time. He’s pounding into you so hard that your hips are digging into the table in front of you. He’s got one hand gripping the nape of your neck again, keeping you pressed down, the other gripping the meat of your ass. 

“You like that?” He asks, grunting behind you as he pulls out and thrusts back in, “Like it when I fill your pretty pussy like this.” 

Oh God, I really do, is all you can think, but the way his cock is brushing against that perfect spot inside you means you can’t talk, only let a throaty moan drop from your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ you so good you can’t even talk, pretty girl,” Joel chuckles, his point proven when he shifts the angle of his hips slightly and has you crying out when he thrusts back into you, “Gotta remember this, okay?” You nod, “Remember how well I fuck you when I can’t be there.” 

It’s desperate from here on out. He’s rutting into you like a man starved, hips beginning to stutter as he climbs towards his own climax. You think he might actually leave you hanging until the hand that was gripping your ass slips in front of you and begins circling your clit. You almost cry with relief. The circles on your clit are messy but they’re doing their job. You can feel your tight walls clenching around Joel’s cock, can hear that way his moans change when you do. Neither of you are going to last much longer, it’s just a question of who gets there first. 

Just as you think the answer is going to be you, Joel once more pulls his hand from your pussy, and you actually cry. The second time he’s cruelly denied you your release and you’re fed up. He’s always been a giver. Always made sure you finish before he does. But right now, he doesn’t seem to care. Both his hands are gripping your hips, you know there will be bruises of his fingertips there tomorrow. He thrusts into your pussy twice more, maybe three times before he’s stilling inside of you and groaning your name behind you. 

You don’t really think he gives himself enough time before he’s slipping out of you, pulling you up and around to sit you back on the table before he’s once again on his knees with his face buried in your cunt. 

“You wanna come, pretty girl?” He asks, thumbing at your clit gently. 

“Make me come right now Joel Miller,” You demand, tears dripping from the corner of your eyes in frustration, “Before I kill you.” 

His lips circle your clit again and he’s lapping at your pussy like it’s his last meal on earth. His fingers are back inside you, curling again, reaching that sweet spot inside you that has your back arching into him. 

It’s quick and it’s overwhelming when it arrives. Your whole body is convulsing and you’re calling his name out into the emptiness of the room. There’s are dark spots in your vision and the aftershocks are more intense than you’d ever felt before. Joel is slipping his fingers from you but continues pressing light kisses to your clit as you come down from your high. 

He lets you fall back onto the table for a moment as he disposes of the condom, but is back quickly, gathering you up into his arms and walking you to the couch. He lies down and settles you on top of him. He knows that he pushed you tonight, knows that the shaking of your shoulders and the tears in your eyes are because you’re overwhelmed. He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing soft kisses to your forehead whilst you recover. 

“You okay, sugar?” He whispers into your hair as his other hand rubs soothing lines up and down your spine. 

You look up at him, eyes glazed, “I am more than okay, Miller.” You mumble, letting your lips drop to his chest to press a kiss to them. 

He tilts your chin to his face, shuffling a little to capture your lips in his for a tender kiss, he pulls away, leaving barely any space between your lips and his, “Did so well for me,” He praises, “Hopefully that’ll keep you going until I can see you again.” 

You press forward and kiss him again, letting your arms circle his neck, “Seriously now though,” You whisper, gathering your strength, “What do you want to eat, because I’m starving.” 

[rex-shadao]

The Lonely End of Belos

Or why Hunter, Caleb, Evelyn, Lilith, Collector, or anyone that Belos personally wronged didn't get to be the witness to his demise.

I admit, I was a bit unsatisfied with Belos' demise. After all the build up with Caleb hallucinations and Grimwalker bones, I thought he would fall into the graveyard pit, see the ghosts, and realizing all too late it's his fault before he melts into a pile of bones.

Prior to that, before Thanks to Them, I speculated on Belos' fate would be him being hunted down by an angry mob of humans led by Jacob Hopkins believing him to be some kind of cryptid monster either threatening the town... or offer a rare opportunity to get rich on the news. And then he falls apart like an animal.

And when Watching and Dreaming trailer hinted at Belos possessing the Titan, I wondered how they were going to defeat Belos without resorting to revenge or poetic irony (since Belos is this big final boss that the heroes would blow up like with the core). I thought perhaps they would turn Belos into a Palisman tree and make him give back all the Palisman he devoured in a twisted form of redemption. Perhaps they'll remind him of his past and start a mental collapse that causes him to lose control of the Titan as he sees images of Caleb. I was pretty sure Caleb would show up just before Belos dies, giving him the realization that he's damned.

But his actual demise... feels empty. He did fall apart as I expected and there's sense of loneliness in his demise, but... no Caleb. No Evelyn. Nothing hinting to his past. Heck, I don't think the name Philip is even brought up once. It feels like we've been cheated out of a cathartic demise, and I spent the hours since the special aired trying to make sense of this choice and why. Why is there no Wittebane lore.

And ultimately, I make this conclusion:

Belos refused to open up about his past. It's quite telling the Collector spilled everything of his Freudian Excuse from being bullied by the Archivists to being wrongfully imprisoned by King's Dad to his desire for friends and being accepted. Him opening up communications of his insecurities allowed Luz, Eda, and King to empathize and help him. To teach him kindness and forgiveness. To teach him the value of life through death. And through their teachings does the Collector become better and ultimately redeemed.

But Belos? We know he had a traumatic past and a lot of insecurities with his brother. We know he's a lot like Luz and the Collector when he was a child. But unlike them, he never opened up about his insecurities. He forcibly molds them into abstract ideas and rules. For the greater good of humanity. For the good of your souls. He always tries to make it non personal, thinking it makes him selfless and pure.

But what he ends up creating is a caricature of himself. A shallow representation of his former human life. The Hollow Mind portraits released this week on Twitter shows tragedy with the happy memories being free of scratches and burns. Those were the original looks. But in the actual episodes, even the happy memories were scarred and burned. As Understanding Willow reveals, if you burn the memory pictures, you essentially erase them from existence. This means that Belos barely remembers his past. Now that I think about it, Belos never actually used the word brother at any point. Just an old friend. At first, I thought he was trying to avoid triggering trauma memories regarding Caleb's murder, but now I wonder... did he actually forget Caleb was his brother?

Because if he did, then it explains why he never seem to make the connection that Eda and Lilith may in fact be the descendants of Evelyn and Caleb. He only remembers Evelyn's first name but can't remember her face or anything that would link her to the Clawthrones.

And then it hits me. Despite being the big main antagonist of the series... Belos has only one personal connection to our main trio: Luz the Human. Eda, he dismisses her as an Owl Lady outlaw who isn't important in the grand scheme of thing. And King, he thinks it's a weird dog demon, not a baby Titan. But Luz, he's obsessed with because A) she would help him learn the Light Glyph and find the Collector and B) she's the first human he has seen in centuries.

Thus, it is Luz that Belos focuses on the most. It's Luz that Belos wants to form an actual connection since Caleb's death. And when you think about those witnessed Belos' demise... Luz is the only one that Belos has any genuine interactions with. Eda, King, and Raine... they were all background pawns or obstacles, not even worth specializing personal grudges towards like he would with Lilith, Hunter, Evelyn, or even Caleb.

So in spirit, Luz is the last lifeline for redemption and forgiveness. And Belos blew it. He was so obessed with Luz due to her human status but he never gave anything about his past to her (Luz only got Belos' backstory from Masha). He assumes that being human alone is sufficient enough for speaking terms. And he choose the best looking human look for her: A non-broken nose Philip Wittebane. Just as how she saw him in Elsewhere and Elsewhen. The ideal adventurer and hero of the 17th century. He evidently forgot that this bearded Phillip destroyed Luz's respect for him. This Philip lied to her and betrayed her and Lilith. This Philip was not the hero Luz envisioned. After all, the Philip she idolized in the diaries was clean shaven. He could have chosen that form... if he actually remembers that.

And then he sloppily try to make himself sound like he's freed from a curse, sloppily using the term dark magic instead of wild magic, and taking great pains to even say that he did horrible things, even under the excuse of a curse. He has no idea on how to make himself relatable when it's all there within him deep down. He just uses the surface-deep level of relatability and Luz doesn't buy it. And the boiling rain melts away that skin deep humanity, revealing a rotting ghoul barely clinging onto life, screaming of how witches are evil and unforgivable as he crawls to Luz. Notably, he still doesn't give a reason as to why he thinks they're all evil. We all know what it likely is, but Belos never confirms it to Luz.

Belos is virtually on autopilot, repeating the mantra of humans are superior and witches are evil. He never speaks about how Caleb was "stolen" from him by a witch. He never speaks about how Gravesfield taught that witches are evil. His memories almost completely erased by his self-inflicted denial, all he can think of is wiping out witches and saving humanity. A caricature of his former self.

And by failing to swayed Luz, he's completely alone. There is no Caleb now. No Evelyn. No Hunter. No Lilith. No Grimwalkers. No Flapjack. Just Luz whose connection he tries to forge is now a shallow parody because of how much he doesn't understand her at all. But she wouldn't kill him since that would give him a known company at his last moment. Instead he meets his end by those that he doesn't even see as personally important beyond pawns. Though they have a lot of personal grudges against the former Emperor and tyrant, Belos only sees strangers at the end of in his long life.

Philip Wittebane is nothing more than a faded memory of a bygone era. He died with his brother Caleb, regulated to just folklore ghost stories told in Halloween of Gravesfield. To some, they may never really exist in the first place since 1613 is a very long time.

The creature that resembles Philip is just Belos and he is little more but a parody of a man, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

[teyamsatan]

Lo'ak x Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: angst, suggestive language, cursing

Word count: 3,1k words

Notes: surprise!! here I am once more writing things outside of what I had planned to, but people have been asking for a Lo'ak story and you know me besties, I aim to please. I really loved writing Lo'ak in my Cardigan series, so I'm excited about this. enjoy x

Na'vi words used: ma 'ite - daughter; sa'nok - mother; skxawng - idiot; tsantu - good guy, txepvi - spark

next part (x)

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain He wanted a bride, I was making my own name He stayed the same, all of me changed like midnight

You and Lo’ak have been friends for longer than you can remember. Literally. You couldn’t remember becoming friends, because, as Neytiri loves reminding you both, your connection was immediate and permanent.

“Did you know, ma ‘ite, that you and Lo’ak held hands for the first time when you had just been born? Yes, yes… he was just a few months old when we brought him by as you were born, and your little fingers wrapped around him when he reached out for you. You were so tiny, the most precious baby. And I’m pretty sure my son fell in love with you that day.” 

“SA’NOK!” 

You laughed as Lo’ak’s face dropped in shock, and smiled almost bashfully as he shuddered when your fingers made contact with the freckles on his cheek, that shone brighter than they normally do, probably due to the deep contrast between them and the new shade of purple that signalled a beautiful blush, that you could never get used to, no matter how many times you have seen it through the years. 

“Oh, son, am I embarrassing you?” 

He huffed and got up from where he stood, and you joined in as all the family starting laughing at the beautiful boy that left the tent stomping, his tail swishing furiously behind him. 

You scoffed softly and followed him, rolling your eyes as Spider made kissy noises and Neteyam chuckled to himself. 

“Wait up, skxawng.” 

“I’m so damn tired of being my family’s clown.” 

“Oh, Lo’ak…” you caught up to him outside of the village, and took his hand in yours to stop him in his tracks. He didn’t look at you, even as you manoeuvred around him to come face to face with this boy the you loved so much, this boy who knew you, who you knew, who will always be everything to you.

“You’re nobody’s clown, Lo'ak. We all love you so much, but you take things too seriously. It wouldn’t be funny if you didn’t get so upset about it. What’s so bad about your mother said? I think it’s sweet.”

Your hand trailed up his arm slowly, and you saw goosebumps appear in its wake, and you smiled at the reaction his body had to your touch. Your hand stopped as it reached his face, that you caressed, and his lips, lips that you’ve dreamt about, that you loved the thought of, that you could feel on yours in dreams and wishful reveries. The same purple tint took over his features once more, and you couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t help the way your face inched closer to his, closer and closer, until your lips touched. It was so soft - the kiss, his lips, the feelings that enveloped you. It felt like home. He felt like home. 

“I think you’re sweet. And I think I fell in love with you the day I was born, too. I think it's always been you, Lo’ak.” 

He could no longer be upset at his mother after that, not when her meddling led to the happiest day of his life. 

Lo’ak loved watching you get ready for battle. How could he not, when your body, tall and supple, a body that had such grace and elegance to it, he felt everyone else in the world would be privileged to ever get to see, was now covered in war paint that complimented your blue skin so well. Orange and yellow lines travelled from your face to your neck, and Lo’ak stood there, mouth agape, once again needing to thank Eywa for whatever luck or happenstance brought you in his life. 

You looked up at him, a mischievous gleam in your big yellow eyes, one that he knew too well, one that seemed ever-present on your face. This look and all it encompassed is why he called you what he did. Txepvi. Spark. His spark. As much as his family gave him grief about his own behaviour, about this recklessness and propensity to get himself into trouble, you were worse - much worse. Always looking for adventure, for danger, for adrenaline rushes that electrified your senses and set your body ablaze. You told him once that you needed it, needed this. That it made you feel alive. You always said there has to be more to life than sitting in the village every day, learning to weave, learning about plants and how to best combine them to make pastes and ointments. You were bored easily, bored of the same mundane, of the same routines, so you always looked for new ones. And you got exactly what you wanted when the Sky People returned. 

Lo’ak knows you hated it, hated them, that you would have happily watched all of them die at your hands, but he also knew that deep down you loved it. Loved how each day was a new challenge, was a new opportunity to prove to yourself, and to him, and to the Olo’eyktan, that you were an asset, that you would be worthy of one day of being Neytiri’s successor, of your parents’ legacy as warriors that gave their lives in the war that came to their doorstep so many years ago. 

“I want you to mark me. You always bring me good luck. And I need it today. I want your hand on me, on my heart. I need a reminder of what’s good in the world. Of what’s mine.” 

Lo’ak’s heart was booming in his ears at your words. You have always been brave. You had a strong heart. You always knew your own mind, always knew what you wanted, who you wanted. And he still couldn’t believe his luck that what you wanted was him. You pushed the bowl of paint towards him and eyed him expectantly, and he obliged you. He placed his five-fingered hand palm first in the bowl and watched as the paint dripped back in it as he removed it, trying to shake off the excess so it doesn’t mess with the design already on your body. Trying to calm his thoughts, he placed his hand on your chest, right in between your breasts, and felt your own heart beating loudly against him, and he smirked, placated in knowing he wasn’t the only one whose emotions were running wild, whose desires were pulsating through every fibre of his being. 

“I still think it’s unfair you get to fight while I am still stuck being a spotter. You’re younger than me, for fuck’s sake.” 

“I’m better than you, ma tsantu, how many times do I have to prove it to you?” 

He scoffed, and tugged at your beaded top until your lips connected, the white paint on your lips smudged and diffused now, coating his own, and he didn’t care. He thought it was fair, that there were physical traces of you on him, coating his body like you did his being, his heart and soul. Your tongue traced his bottom lip and explored and he let you, meeting you halfway, a messy needy dance that left him panting and weak. He kissed you to shut you up, but now he was the one speechless. How did this always happen? 

You pecked him once more, then moved to reapply the painting that had just been erased. He could hear the small smile in your voice as you spoke. 

“Your father loves you. He doesn’t want you to put yourself at risk. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, and doesn’t want Neteyam to get hurt trying to protect you, like he always does. He doesn’t have the same compulsions with me. That's why you're a spotter and I'm not.” 

You grinned at him, your large, sharp canines coming into view, and he yelped a little as you directed them to his neck, biting on it until a sharp sting traveled through his body. You licked the blood that came out of the two small puncture wounds and he shuddered at your touch. 

“Come, mighty warrior. Let’s go show them what happens when they mess with the Omatikaya.” 

It was surreal to you, how much life changed, how fast life changes. It seemed like yesterday that you were swinging through the trees of the Omatikaya forest, innocent and mild, just happy to exist, happy to be alive, happy that there was air in your lungs and sun shining through the leaves and hitting your bare skin, that soaked it all, that loved it, loved every ray, loved it all. You were different now, so different you could barely recognise yourself. You don’t know if child you would have liked the current you… or vice versa. Current you wanted more. More than just the forest, more than just being, and existing peacefully, more than what every other Omatikaya seemed to be satisfied with. You wanted chaos, and pain. You wanted deep, earth-shattering experiences, you wanted life to course through your veins like ice water through the stream near the village. You wanted to fly and you wanted to fall, you wanted to be remembered, you wanted to be revered. You wanted everything. 

You knew the Sullys would be angry at you for taking their son away again, for bringing him along with you on one of your unprompted and unplanned trips, where you just got on your ikran and didn’t look back for days, until you discovered something new, something more than what you knew. It was your favourite thing to do, outside of what you were currently doing, limbs tangled with this boy that brought light to your life, and shivers down your spine. 

“I can’t believe this place. It might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, present company excluded, of course.”

You giggled and propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the beach that surrounded your entire line of sight, on this beautiful small tropical island. You flew until you reached the Eastern Sea, and your sights both locked on this little slice of Paradise, that felt so isolated, so wild and untamed, so untouched by Na’vi or animals alike, and you knew this was the place to spend the night, with nothing but the endless stars watching over you. You never got to see the sky like this in the forest, so clear and unperturbed by all the trees obstructing the view - yet another reason you loved your little adventures. 

“My dad’s going to kill me when I get home, you know? And then he’ll kill you.” 

“I know. But that’s a problem for future me. Present me wants to swim in the ocean, and she wants you to join me. She’ll show you a good time. You won’t think about your dad anymore by the end, I promise.” 

He growled lowly at your words, and followed you as you got up and ran into the water, diving for its depths, revelling in this feeling you hoped would never end, and in his presence, that quieted the tumult that was ever-present in your mind. You loved him. He was your home, your calm. He was the best thing in the world, and he was yours. 

You felt nervous as Lo'ak entered your tent, a troubled, tearful look on his face, one that meant danger, one that meant hurt, for both of you.

“Dad says we have to go. I have to go.” 

Your mind went blank at his words, a new feeling for you. You couldn’t quite understand what he was telling you.

“Go? Go where?” 

“The Metkayina. He says we’re to start a new life there.” 

“But… but you can’t go. He’s the Olo’eyktan, he’s the Toruk Makto. You can’t just up and leave us.” 

You watched as Lo’ak’s face changed from sorrow to anger, directed at you, at his father, at the world - you couldn’t quite tell. 

“Do you think I want to fucking go? Do you think I chose this? I don’t get to choose what happens, none of us do, but this is happening.”

You felt tears pricking at your eyes painfully, but you couldn't shed them yet, not when it felt like there was still so much heartbreak still waiting to ambush you.

“So you’re just going to leave me? Leave what we have behind?” 

His eyes softened at your words, as he approached you and his hands immediately found your face, the face he adored more than everything else in the world. 

“Of course not. I could never leave you. I love you. I’ve loved you my whole life, I have dreamt about your life woven with mine for as long as I can remember. I have always known you were the one, the only one. I never had the courage to tell you, but you did. You told me, and you kissed me, and I am so grateful. So grateful that you chose me, so grateful that I get to know that you’re mine, that our children will be the best warriors this clan has ever seen, just like their mother is.” 

Your heart fluttered upon hearing his confession, and a smile swiftly replaced your deep frown and stubborn tears. You couldn’t help tightening your arms around his waist and pulling his body into yours, until you felt every crevice, every indentation, every scar and mark on it, until you were so close you felt like you were becoming one, unable to ever be separated again. 

“I don’t understand, Lo’ak. What are you saying?” 

“I want you to come with me. You have to come with me. I can’t live without you, and I know you feel the same. We have to be together, and this way we get to.”

It quickly felt like the world quieted around you, dead quiet, like a grave or an unopened tomb, like no life has ever touched it.

You have to come with me. I can’t live without you.

You didn’t notice your arms dropped sluggishly to your side until Lo’ak grabbed them and tugged at them, at you, trying to pull you out of your lethargic state. 

“Ma txepvi… please say you’ll come. Please.” He was pleading now, anguish coating every word as he was pushing them out, and you felt it all, deep within your soul, you felt it overtaking you too, felt it killing you as you knew what you had to do, knew what you had to say. 

“No.”

As soon as the word escaped your lips, so did a pained sob escape Lo’ak’s. 

“No?” 

And there they were, the tears, the hot tears that stung each inch of your body they travelled down to, the tears that signified the end of childhood, the end of peace, the end of your life as you knew it, of happiness as you dreamt it.

“I can’t, Lo’ak. You can’t ask this of me. You know me, you know me better than anyone else. You want me to give up everything I have worked so hard for, everything I have yearned for, everything that’s finally within my grasp, all of it, to come and be at the Metkayina’s beck and call? To be a trainee again, to be useless again? To give up my bow, my mother’s bow, and pick up a spear, to give up my ikran, my sister, for some sea creature that will never compare?” 

He was crying, too, painfully tugging at your arms, hoping that by doing so, you wouldn’t leave him, you would change your mind, you wouldn’t do what he feared you would, what he always dreaded. He always wondered if he would ever be enough for you, and he was terrified that, each moment passed, it seemed as if he got his answer, the monstrous answer he didn’t know if he could deal with.

“I’m asking you to be with me. I’m asking you to love me the way I love you, I am asking you to give us a chance to grow old together.”

 

The pain was shooting through your body like a lightning hit, powerful and all-consuming, and you felt as though you were going to drown in your own tears, and you would welcome it, welcome the sudden death, welcome the chance to be put out of your misery. This is what you wanted, you thought bitterly to yourself. You always wanted pain and hurt. You wanted to feel alive. Now you did. So alive it felt like death, it felt like your demise, it felt like everything and nothing, like the beginning and the end.

“I love you. I will always love you. And I am sorry. But I am more than this. I have more to give to the world, to this clan, than just myself to you. Someone has to stay behind and protect the people when your whole family is gone. Someone has to stay and fight. There’s still so much of the world I’ve yet to see, so much of myself I have yet to meet. I can’t let you take that away from me, Lo’ak. I’m sorry.” 

You didn't wait for his response as you removed your body from his grasp, that all of a sudden felt trapping, felt suffocating, and took off, leaving nothing but heartache and the shattered promises of a picture perfect future, of love and a shiny family, of a life worth living, but one that wasn't yours.

"Good job today. It's been tough dealing with the demons on our own, without our Toruk Makto, but you're doing great. You're indispensable to our clan, to this village. I hope you know that."

"I know, Tarsem. Thank you." you brought your fingers to your forehead and bode the new Olo'eyktan and the Tsa'hik a goodnight, and made your way out of the tent quietly.

This place felt empty in the months following their departure... his departure. You felt his absence in your every bone. You felt it in the loneliness that haunted you every night, in your body that ached for his touch and warmth, in your mind that never knew peace, not anymore. You wondered if he felt the same. If he ever thought about you, about what you had. You wondered if he's doing well, adapting well, if he found himself a girl, quiet and beautiful, smart and kind, that wanted everything you didn't, that was able to fill the hole you left behind. You hoped he did. You hoped he didn't.

I guess sometimes we all get Just what we wanted And I never think of him Except on midnights like this 

dk about a p2 but we'll see how my besties feel x

thank you @firefly-graphics for the dividers xo

[dearmantis]

So I stayed in the darkness with you

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x wife!Reader

Summary: When you finally wake up and the joy of seeing your husband alive and well dies down you have a conversation you've always wanted to avoid.

Warnings: mentions of death, murder and violence, mentions of grisha persecution, this is not a healthy relationship but they love each other very much, slight gaslighting, mentions of human trafficking

Word Count: 3.6k words

Authors Note: I really thought I would never write this, but I'm having a rare moment where I crave comfort. Also, a few people asked for this (and apparently, some people cried after part 2??? I'm so sorry about that I hope you guys are alright now!). I think this is the end of this? Its not the ending I expected when I first wrote the A lost embrace one shot but it is where we ended up. I hope you guys like it :) I'm not a native English speaker and this isn't edited.

The title of this part (and the name of the series) is from Cosmic Love by Florence + the Machine

Previous Part | Masterlist

When you wake up, it's to the sound of a few birds chirping outside and waves crashing against rocks. You don't open your eyes for a while, instead choosing to enjoy the soft atmosphere around you, letting yourself glide into consciousness slowly and carefully.

It's warm and soft, wherever you are. You feel safe.

Your arms and legs still feel a bit sore even without trying to move them, so you simply breathe in and back out, enjoying the fresh air that faintly smells of lavender, salt and rosemary.

With every minute you spend laying there, eyes still tightly closed, you notice more things around you.

A weak breeze moves the leaves on a tree outside. Occasionally, you can hear muffled steps coming from somewhere other than wherever you are right now. Someone other than you is in the room, fabric rustling quietly when they move. You're not afraid.

It takes a while until you feel ready to try and open your eyes, and when you do, your gaze imediately and instinctively move to the chair next to your bed where your husband is waiting for you, his dark eyes glued to your face and a glass of water in his hand. He's not wearing his kefta, you notice. Just a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Not a single speck of gold is visible on him.

A small smile charms itself onto your lips before you can stop it.

"Do you feel ready to rejoin the world of the living?" he asks quietly, waiting for your nod before reaching over to hold the glass of water against your lips.

You empty the glass quickly, your dry throat desperate for any kind of liquid. He takes the glass away slowly, moving to fill it up with more water before placing it back against your lips.

You drink three glasses of water that way. That's how much you need to drink to banish the itching from your throat. Damn those soldiers.

"How long... how long was I asleep?" You ask after Aleksander places the glass back down on the nightstand next to the bed. He doesn't respond for a while, instead moving carefully to check if your body is fully tucked in and warm under the thick blanket covering your body.

"Two weeks," He answers finally while he shuffles around. "You were woken up a few times to make sure you eat and drink, but I doubt you remember that. Fedyor thought it was best if your body got time to recover energy on its own. The two weeks in the cage, the torture, the starving and dehydration, lack of sleep, and even the healing took a huge toll on your body."

The Shadow Summoner moves back to his chair, but before he sits down, he checks if your pillow is fluffy, his gaze awfully serious considering his current task.

Letting the information settle for a bit, you look around in the room you're in. You don't recognize where you are. The old, dark wooden floors are new to you, just like the walls decorated with small drawings and letters you're too far away from to read. When you look outside, you see the ocean.

"Where are we?"

Your hand moves to grab Aleksanders wrist before he can step back to sit down on his chair again, carefully pulling him closer towards you. He looks tired, deep shadows visible below his dark eyes. He needs to rest, probably more than you do, considering you apparently slept for two full weeks. A small, amused smile finds its way onto his lips before he carefully moves to sit down next to you on the large bed you're occupying. You move to give him space, encouraging him to lay down instead of sitting.

"I'll be more relaxed if you're next to me," you reason when he tries to argue, and the mighty, dangerous Darkling gives in, slipping under your blanket and resting his head next to yours on the pillows. You're still mad at him, a deep-rooted hatred for him burning deep in your chest, hotter than the sun itself, but feeling him next to you is nice. It almost feels safe.

Once he settles down, he answers, his voice even quieter and softer than it was before.

"In Fjerda. Kenst Hjerte, to be exact."

Ulla. You're with Ulla. Outside of Ravka. Away from everything he has built. Away from his sun summoner.

"Ivan is still in Ravka with a few others to make sure that no Grisha are left in cages. The rest is up here."

You want to say something, like acknowledge the fact that it must've been almost impossible to move a large group of Grisha through Fjerda undetected, but you don't want to interrupt him. He has that far away look in his eyes, and you assume this must be the first time he's letting himself actually work through and think over the events of the past month.

"Ulla wasn't particularly excited to see such a huge group, you can probably imagine. She has never been fond of company, after all, but she accepted it as long as she could stay away, and I don't tell anyone about her presence."

A smirk appears on his lips, and his eyes find yours. "The last bit that convinced her was the absence of Baghra, of course. As soon as she found out that she was still in Ravka, she was suddenly alright with everyone staying as long as the group doesn't pull attention towards the islands, and no one get's close to her."

Mirroring his smile, you watch him for a few seconds, carefully turning your body to lay on its side.

"So we're hiding again."

Aleksander opens his mouth to respond, probably ready to justify his decision, not realising that he doesn't have to. You're glad. Disappearing back into hiding is arguably the first sensible decision he has made since the sun summoner showed up. You're just surprised that he got to this decision himself. He's usually not someone who admits defeat, at least not without you forcing him to. You expected him to do something stupid, like try to fight the entire First Army and the Sun Summomer on his own and get killed in the process.

"I've never really been in hiding before, not since I was a child, at least. Most of the others never had to be. This will probably be really weird, but I'm excited to learn. Are we going to stay here or move somewhere else?"

He seems a bit surprised by the fact that you're not against his decision, pausing for a few seconds to study your facial expressions before he answers.

"I hope to stay here as long as possible, but we have to be prepared to leave any minute. I hope that Ivans group can collect the last Grisha that don't want to serve Vasily and come up here without attracting too much attention, but it's impossible to tell if that will work out."

You nod slowly, carefully putting together a picture of what has happened in the month that you've been out of the loop.

"Do you think there's a risk that Vasily could find out that we're hiding here and tell the Grimjer family? Maybe as an offering of some kind to kindle peace between Ravka and Fjerda and end the war?"

The darkness that flickers in his eyes for just a second makes clear that he has thought about that possibility as well. It would make sense, after all. Give up the Darkling, his wife, and the Grisha that side with them in exchange for peace. You are all considered enemies of the ravkan royal family anyway, so it wouldn't be a loss for Vasily.

"The risk is always there, but I have hope that the preparation of the royal wedding will distract everyone enough to make sure that we can get everyone out of the country without anyone noticing. The people want to celebrate their sun queen and hope for a better future. It should be easy for skilled soldiers to get through and out of the country unnoticed."

It takes you a few seconds until you realize what he just said, and when you finally do, a confused frown appears on your face.

"Sun queen? Is Vasily marrying Alina?"

Aleksander nods.

"And you're not... you're not on your way to rip him to shreds and take her for yourself?"

He let's out a long, loud sigh and turns his head to look at the ceiling, choosing to stay silent for so long that you start to believe that he's not going to respond at all. The only proof that you have that he's actively thinking about his response are the shadows slowly crawling over the floor and walls, swallowing the room and covering you under the familiar blanket of his very own darkness.

You have spent many private moments like this, cloaked by his powers, including your first kiss, your first time sleeping together, and your wedding night. As long as he controls his shadows, you will always have a home.

When he finally does speak, it's soft and light as a feather, his voice drifting through the air like an ancient melody.

"In those two weeks where I was convinced I would be too late, that you were dead, I learned something very important about myself."

Behind him, the shadows crawl up to cover the window, swallowing the last bit of light in the room.

"You are part of me the same way the shadows are part of me. Even if I hate you and you hate me, I can't change that. Losing you would be like losing a vital organ. Even if you chose to despise me for eternity, to never speak to me again, I need to be around you. I'm not fully myself if I'm not with you, sweet girl. You are part of me, just like I hope I am part of you."

You can't see him, but you can hear how he turns his head to look at you. "You can hate your heart and your powers as much as you want, you can't get rid of either. You need both to survive. And I need you the same way."

If anyone else, literally anyone else in the whole world had said this to you, you would've laughed so loud that you could still hear it in the Fold, but hearing those words come out of Aleksanders mouth, especially in that tone, makes you pause.

You know how he sounds when he lies, how his tone shifts to make every word sound just a bit smoother, a bit more convincing, but none of those signs are noticeable now. It's just his voice, in the same, normal, serious tone he uses during important discussions. The same tone he uses when he marries you once every hundred years.

"I have waited many centuries for the sun summoner. I can wait a few more if that means I can keep you with me."

The shadows retreat from the window, letting sunlight back into the room, but they continue to cover the walls, floor, and ceiling.

The light shows you his facial expression, the warm smile that softens his features and smooths the wrinkles in his skin.

"And what if I don't want to stay with you?" You ask quietly, afraid that you could shatter the atmosphere if you speak too loudly. "You hurt me a lot, Aleksander. I don't think I can do this again. What do I do if you randomly decide that you actually want the sun summoner more than me? If you leave me behind? What do I do if she dies and a new sun summoner appears in 300 years and you fall in love with them as well? I can't be your little bed warmer that fills the space next to you until your sun summoner comes back. I'm not strong enough to go through this again. Not tomorrow, not in twenty years, not in a thousand years. I can't do it again."

You try to turn away from him, but before you even get the chance to move, he wraps his arm around your torso and pulls you on top of him, every inch of your body touching his. His large hands cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"What can I do to prove to you that I will never leave you again?" he asks earnestly, and you can't stop yourself from whispering as you harshly move your head to escape from his grasp, your voice so quiet that it barely makes a sound at all.

"Kill Alina"

Your husband laughs, this time louder, amusement clear in his gaze as he grasps your face once more to make sure your eyes meet his.

"What was that, little wife?"

"What?"

"What you just said. You said something about Alina."

"No, I didn't. What are you talking about? Why would I talk about her while I'm lying on top of you? You must be hallucinating because of how exhausted you are." Your face contorts with mock concern, and Aleksander scoffs, swatting your hand away when you try to touch his face the way he's touching yours. "You should really sleep, my love. This isn't healthy for you at all. Come on, let's sleep. Good night."

You lean forward to press a quick good night kiss onto his lips – more of a peck than a kiss, really – when his grip on your face suddenly tightens, a loud squeak leaving your lips as he pushes you off of him and positions himself above you, switching your positions.

For a few seconds, you just stare at each other, taking each other in for a few seconds until Aleksander slowly bends down to press his lips against yours.

It's a soft kiss. Slow and sweet with an underlying bitterness that you want to ignore but can't.

His weight on you is familiar despite the fact that he isn't crushing you into the mattress the way he usually would, holding himself up with his arms to keep the majority of his weight off of your still recovering body.

When he finally lifts his head and ends the kiss, you smile at him for a second before seriousness washes the softness from your face.

"I'm serious, Sasha. You hurt me. A lot. And I'm not strong enough to withstand this again. If you want your sun summoner, tell me now. I won't even leave, I promise, so you can just tell me. I just want to be prepared, please." Unshed tears fill your eyes, turning your sight blurry as you stare up at your husband who simply watches you, his own face focused solely on you, face blank like a sheet of paper as he listens to your words.

"You left me. After more than 200 years together, you left me for a child. You lied to me and deceived me, pushed me to the side, and ignored me. Two centuries of partnership thrown away because of her. How am I supposed to ever trust you again?"

You regret letting him turn you now. Sitting on top of him gave you a bit of strength, made you feel stronger and bigger than you really are, especially right now in your weakened state. Now you feel small, caged in by his body and his watchful gaze that you're unable to escape. Pathetic, that's how you feel. You should be stronger than this by now, yet here you are, fighting back tears like a child.

"What if you suddenly decide you want her instead of me in a year or two? Do I have to put myself into a life-threatening situation just to remind you that I'm apparently important to you? What will it take next time? All of Fjerda hunting me? Getting sold like cattle in Ketterdam? Experiments in Shu Han? Is that what needs to happen to keep you interested in me? Because that's not worth it, Aleksander. I love you, I do, but I deserve better than that."

He doesn't react for a while, his eyes simply studying your face while he thinks over his response. After a few minutes, he lets himself sink down next to you, laying back on his side, his gaze still glued to you.

Aleksanders dark eyes do not move from you for what feels like hours, taking in every pore, every wrinkle, every bit of texture, taking his time to catalogue every single milimetre of your face in his mind.

He watches how you try to blink away your tears, angry at yourself for showing weakness in a moment where you have to be strong, and he hates himself for pushing you so far away from his heart that you feel like being vulnerable around him, showing weakness in from of your own husband, is a mistake.

He watches you bite your chapped lips, tearing the flesh and covering your front teeth with a bit of blood. An act of self-punishment or a nasty habit you may have developed while he was occupied with Alina? He hates himself more for not being able to answer that question.

It takes a while, but then his hands move to cup your face, holding you like a precious gem, his rough hands suddenly softer than cotton.

Aleksander doesn't tear up like you do. His hands don't shake, and his voice doesn't break when he speaks, but you can feel his sincerity ringing in the air like a bell.

"I'm sorry."

He apologized several times when he found you. Panicked, pained apologies filled with dread and relief and more fear than anyone should be able to feel. But now he's calm. He's not scared of death ripping you out of his grasp in the next minute, isn't trying to lift some of his own guilt off his shoulders before you die in his arms. He had two weeks of processing his thoughts on his own. He had time to think over every mistake he has made, and he intends to right them, starting with you and what he has done to you.

"I'm sorry that I ever made you feel like you weren't enough. I'm sorry for acting like you aren't enough. I'm sorry for forgetting how much greater you are than me. You are and will always be the most precious thing in my life, the most wonderful thing the making could've ever given me. I am a foolish man, but I should know better than that. And you shouldn't forgive me. I do not deserve forgiveness, but I can't help but hope for it anyway. I pray that you find it in your endlessly kind heart to give me one last chance. If you do, my love, my beautiful, wonderful, perfect little wife, I swear I'll make you queen. I will end the Lantsov line and kill the sun summoner and give you the country we once called home. I will give you anything you want, I promise it."

A loud sob tears through your throat, tears running freely over your face and soaking into the pillow below you as you listen to him bear his old, rotten heart and soul to you.

"I don't want the throne," you rasp out. "I just want you. That's all I've ever wanted."

"I know. And I failed to give it to you, but I promise that this will never happen again. Kill me if it does. Stab me in the heart while I sleep, poison my food, slit my throat. I swear that I will not defend myself. Bring my head to the Apparat and let him turn you into a Saint if I betray you again, my love, but please give me this one chance to prove myself to you. I will not fail you again, I swear it."

You almost laugh at that, but the shimmering in his eyes stops you before you can even smile. It's like he's fighting himself to make sure he doesn't cry, reminding you that this is serious.

"I will actually do it, you hear me? If you betray me again, I will rally the Grisha against you. Ulla, too, while I'm at it. They like me more than you anyway. I'll chop your head off and give it to the Apparat and become Sankta Y/N of the dawn or whatever they end up calling me. I'll make sure there are thousands of paintings of how I murdered you. And I'll make it seem like it was easy, too. I'll tell them I overpowered you effortlessly and cut your heart out while you confessed your love to me or something. All of Ravka will make fun of how you died. It'll overshadow the horror stories about the Black Heretic. You will become the joke of a whole nation."

He smiles softly. "I would expect nothing less of you, my love."

You mirror his smile weakly, eyes flickering down to his lips twice before slowly leaning in. Aleksander waits for you, refusing to move while your breath ghosts over his lips.

"Are you sure?" he asks, waiting for you to decide what to do. The tension between you two is heavy, your nose filling with his oh so familiar scent with every breath you take.

"I am," you answer almost silently. "I don't forgive you, not yet. But I think I can give you one last chance. I think I can do it."

Laughing weakly, you continue, "Especially now that I'm allowed to murder you if you betray my trust again."

He hums, his nose brushing softly against yours as he waits for you to confirm your decision.

When you do, your lips pressing against his, it tastes like ash and death, like destruction and poison and chocolate and peace and promises.

It tastes like sin. It tastes like coming home. It tastes like love.

Taglist: @budugu @purebloodwitch @hells-escapees @savagejane1 @deadunicorn159

[its-avalon-08]

hearts intertwined (hamilton x sister! driver!rosberg) pt4

chapter 4: lines were crossed

warnings - none at all

series so far - pt1 pt2 pt3

The Bahrain post-race celebrations were in full swing at the swanky F1 club. Y/N, still riding the high of her P2 finish, sipped on a non-alcoholic drink, surrounded by the jubilant Red Bull team. Max, ever the party animal, was already on the dance floor, his gangly limbs flailing to the thumping music.

Across the room, Lewis nursed a beer, a dark cloud hanging over him. Y/N's talent was undeniable, and her audacious overtake had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't help but steal glances at her, her laughter echoing amidst the chatter.

Suddenly, Y/N spotted Nico weaving through the crowd. A smile lit up her face. "Hey, Nico! Come meet Lando," she waved him over.

Lewis watched their interaction, tension coiling in his gut. Nico, ever the protective brother, ruffled Y/N's hair. "So, the wonder rookie," he chuckled, turning to Lando. "Looks like you've got some competition on your hands."

Lando grinned. "Always up for a challenge, Mr. Rosberg. But seriously, P2 in your first race? That's legendary!"

Y/N snorted. "Calm down, Lando. It was just luck."

"Luck, talent, and a whole lot of Rosberg grit," Nico winked. A strong whiff of vanilla overwhelmed the air when Lewis walked past. Then, leaning closer to Y/N, Nico added, "Is the motherfucker wearing vanilla cologne? You remember when you said you loved vanilla on men?"

Y/N's eyes widened in amusement. "Oh my god! He really is. He used to smell like vanilla cupcakes all the time. Too bad he's an asshole now."

A jolt of electricity shot through Lewis. The memory slammed into him with the force of a high-speed collision. 2014, pre-championship battles, a time when he and Nico were still friends. A time when he'd harbored a secret crush on Y/N. He'd doused himself in that damn vanilla cologne, hoping to catch her attention.

The image of Y/N snuggling into his chest, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she inhaled the scent, flooded his mind. He'd been so close, so naively hopeful. But then 2015 came, shattering their friendship and burying his feelings under an avalanche of competitive fury.

The past dissolved as he saw Y/N and Lando laughing, their bodies swaying close as they danced. A bitter pang of jealousy twisted in his gut. He couldn't help but notice the way Lando's arm brushed against Y/N's back, sending a fresh wave of irritation through him.

Just then, Lewis's gaze collided with Nico's. Nico's expression was a chilling mix of anger and concern. He strode across the room, his movements purposeful. Stopping in front of Lewis, he lowered his voice, a dangerous edge to it. "You can hate me," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You can fight me, Lewis, that's old news. But raise a hand on my sister ever again… and I will make your life hell," he trailed off, his eyes blazing.

Lewis's breath hitched. Only then did he truly see the bruise on Y/N's hand, a dark purple blotch against her pale skin. Shame washed over him, hot and unwelcome. His eyes darted between the bruise and Nico's furious face. He knew, with a sickening certainty, that he'd crossed a line.

credits for gif - @lewishamiltongifs

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[miller-n-morgan]

And I Feel Fine (.i)

Joel Miller x Jackson!Reader

18+, mdni

Summary: Random selection on weekly patrol is a completely normal occurrence. A coincidental raid on the Jackson dam generator by Tommy’s older brother (and a little stranger) is absolutely not.

Warnings: there's a lot to unpack here, bear with me; mentions of death, violence, gore, blood, mentions of sex abuse and trafficking. Mentions of teenage pregnancy. Mention of drugs and substances. This one literally has ✨️the works.✨️

Word Count: 5.7k

Hi everyone! Thank you guys for the likes and shares and encouragement of my work before I even posted it! I appreciate you guys so much and I hope you enjoy (if that's even possible yet this is so messy for a first chapter)

Series Masterlist

The man is tall, his face looks worn and tried by the tests of time. It’s not a bad face, you reason. It’s just older, seen more things. You recognized him, though he doesn’t look the same now as the source material from which you know him. He used to wear a smile, you’re pretty sure. “Have we… met?” He seemed confused, trying to meet your wandering stare. Tommy stepped in, thinking he’d better introduce you both. “This is my brother, J-” “Joel,” you nodded, turning back to Tommy for only a second. “I remember from those pictures you brought back.”

Fall leaves are on the ground, on your front porch, and practically everywhere you look this morning. Other houses wear the orange and red upon their rooftops and over their outdoor furniture. It’s your favorite season while it’s in motion, while the leaves are still falling. It’s romantic somehow, after waking up from the nightmares. The rainbow after the rain, or something like that. 

In a few weeks, you know the best of it will be over, and the wind will carry the leaves to the middle of the street, into the town area, and it will be impossible to see anything else but the dead color bursts. That is when you hate fall, when its leaves need to be raked up and out of the way. By then they are crisp and dry beneath your feet, a reminiscent sound of something else that isn’t as pleasing. You will be loathing when that time rolls around, but for now you are at peace, and savoring the momentary beauty. Nothing is permanent, including your ability to sit in the warmth of your house, sipping the hot coffee you’d brewed before patrol.

You’ve only rotated twice in two weeks, which doesn’t make a damn lick of sense considering you are one of only three people that knows the western route. 

Tommy’s put you on for this morning, he and Maria are to accompany you and a few others around the power plant by the dam. There’s been some noise going on the past few weeks, and with the livelihood of the commune on the line, it’s best to sort these things out, nip them in the bud. 

You take your mug to the kitchen sink and give it a quick rinse, grabbing the two lonely carrots in your fridge on the way out, stuffing them in the pocket of your jacket. 

By the time you’ve actually laced up your boots, and tripped on your doorway’s crooked ridge - a morning tradition, no matter how many years you’ve lived here - the sun is cresting over the mountains, the light barely shining over the homes and their leafy crowns of orange and red and yellow and brown. 

It’s still only seven-thirty by the time you reach the stables. You know Maria’s probably got something to eat packed away for later, you never got too hungry in the morning anyways. Tommy un-hatches the gate for you, walking up with half a smile on his face.  

“Provoker is living up to his name just now, kicked my ass right out of his stall,” he shook his head, throwing an annoyed hand behind him to spite the horse. “And here I was tryna do somethin’ nice for ya.”

You huffed a laugh, trying to seem apologetic for your stallion’s bad behavior. He always teased you, ‘your old horse wasn’t like this,’ and ‘maybe I’ll shoot him and claim self defense.’ But of course, Maria wouldn’t stand for that. Casper, or as Tommy so lovingly has taken to calling him, ‘Provoker’ was found several miles south of the commune, just a scared and hungry horse. He was strong and sturdy and learned the routes quickly. Tommy was just an ass because the horse didn’t seem to like men.

“What did you do this time?” 

“Ain’t done nothing, swear it. Keith saw me, was just passin’ through,” he defended, his hands in the air. 

“With you, that can be enough,” you shouldered passed him into the stables, hearing him follow on your trail. 

“You callin’ me fat?” 

“Absolutely.”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing his bridal from the wall and handing you yours. The horses are usually saddled early in the morning, all except for Casper. Maria does good with him, and when you get to his stall you can see she’s already prepared the tall stallion for the ride. 

“Good mornin’, handsome…” you pulled a carrot from your pocket and fed it up to the horse, his grateful blow of air a signal that he was in a better mood now.

“Can’t believe you’re rewardin’ his bad behavior.”

Tommy’s voice is not upset, but vaguely annoyed over your shoulder.

“Maybe I’m rewarding his good behavior,” you say it smugly, giving him a narrowed gaze as you turn your head. “You’re higher in rank than me, if I dispose of you I get all the power.” 

Maria heard you from the next stall down, snickering under her breath. 

“Oh, so that was an assassination attempt, then?” 

“No, you have to be someone of high importance for it to be considered an assassination,” Maria replied, leading her bronze mare from the stalls. Elsie, the horse’s name was. 

You were still fixing the bit for Casper before adjusting the bridal. 

“She just admitted I was higher in rank,” he argued, pulling his own horse forward now, leaving only you to catch up behind them. 

“Still lower in rank to me, bud,” she teased, nudging his shoulder and smiling in his direction. He smiled back, and by witnessing it alone, you mirrored both expressions. 

You’d been here since before they were even together. Almost ten years since you’d met Tommy, and eight since you’d met Maria. You saw them meet each other, saw them interact before this was ever the norm. You swore back then they hated each other’s guts, hated whatever one had to say to them. With time the hatred melted to a dull dislike, and by the time the Jackson commune was established, they seemed to have forgotten any ill feelings they ever had. It was like watching a movie over the span of four years, the personal threats and arguments turned into strange and somehow meaningful compliments or encouragements. They were married three years ago, and it was the first wedding you’d ever attended. You remember it so well because you imagined that maybe someday you’d get a shot. You would have a chance at loving someone the way Tommy adored Maria, heart and soul. 

“There’s a few boys still stationed out at the generator. I reckon they kept clear any danger during the night, but we should still be vigilant.”

Tommy’s warning brought you back, allowing you to pick up time from where you left it. The three of you lined up in front of the commune’s entrance point, mounting your horses and waiting for the go ahead from the men guarding the gates. It’s been a rough season, dealing with raiders, hunters, and even on the odd occasion, children in need of shelter. 

Casper took off before you even had to tell him, because he’s gone out enough times to know the drill. Maria follows closely behind, with Tommy lagging slightly. His horse, Dakota, was an old girl… probably one of the oldest in town. But she was smart, reliable, and got where she needed to be… eventually.

The ride was quiet this morning, no animals in the trail or clickers wandering the premises. It was actually nice and serene, matching the beautiful scenery of the fall ambers. 

It wasn’t long before your horse’s legs slowed, trotting to the checkpoint and coming to a halt when the watchers spotted you. 

You recognized one of the guys in the tower, Billy. He was a little younger than you, but closer in age than most of the company you keep. Nice guy, but not a thought behind those eyes.

“Top of the mornin to ya,” he called out, leaning over the edge of the rail with a cheesy grin. 

“Morning,” you called up, dismounting Casper and leading him around the wall now. “Heard you boys had some trouble last night.”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle. How about you, princess, you sleep okay?” 

You snorted, looking up to him with a bright expression. 

“Like a baby.”

You tied the reins by the makeshift trough that had been half assed and reconstructed over the years, looking out over the dam where the checkpoint sat upon. Everything was running smoothly, so either they actually did dispose of last night’s threats, or they were keeping them hidden extremely well. The water flowed, the power ran. 

You weren’t really paying attention to what Tommy said when he came around the corner, just hummed along to his words and hoped he didn’t notice. 

You liked this checkpoint more than the rest. The water was beautiful, the nature around it even prettier of a sight. You wished you could have seen it under better circumstances, without a gun on your hip and a knife in your pocket. 

You wish that in another life you could come here, lay a picnic blanket down, and just sit by the water and the trees behind it in the distance, the mountains over and above framing them like a painting. What a shame for something to lose its beauty on the technicality of implication. The men stationed at every point on the river implies it isn’t safe. The weapons in their arms imply that the dangers are not few, and the way they look to each other implies they would rather not be here, with Jackson’s commune being the only place they can really feel at home anymore. 

“Hey,” Tommy’s direct call to the back of your head made it turn. “You listenin’?”

“Huh?” 

He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes as he repeated his words. 

“Can you go check the bridge and see about damages?” 

You nodded, a small ‘yeah’ rolling off your lips when you started into that direction. 

You passed by Billy going up the stairs, giving him a small smile and a nod before turning the corner. You liked him, really, you did… but you were too tired and too hungry to interact with a guy who thought a great point of conversation was mentioning the different soups of the week in the dining hall. 

“Come to inspect my handy work?” Terry, an older man with a strange wit about him, had been waiting for you on the bridge when you got there. 

“Yep, Tommy just wants to make sure all the bases are covered.”

You peeked around one of the smaller generators, seeing the body of a dead raider that had been dragged aside from the walkway. He was already starting to smell, the rotten odor making you scrunch your nose in disgust. 

“You just left him here all night?” You asked, kicking the boot of the stiff, cold man. He had a bullet hole in his neck, and you figured, Terry was awfully proud of putting it there. The man had a good aim, one of the better shots in town. 

“Didn’t know exactly where to put ‘im until the shift was over. Guess that’s your job, now,” he grinned devilishly, jabbing you in the ribs with his elbow. You tried to get him back but he just caught your arm and left it loose. “Easy now, don’t hurt your arm… gonna need it to carry him.”

You sighed, walking around to where you could get a good grip on his boots, picking them up one by one before dragging him from that corner. 

“Was he the only one?” 

“As far as we know, we called it in as soon as we shot him. There haven’t been any other surprises since then.”

“Good to know,” you let out, getting him around the corner and to the stairs. Billy didn’t seem to be as chatty now that you were accompanied by a dead body, but he stared the entire time you got him positioned at the staircase. 

“Need some help?” he finally offered, but at this point, you had it covered. 

“I’m good.”

You kicked hard enough to roll him over, letting his body topple over the stairs until he reached the bottom. Years ago, doing this may have bothered you. Disrespecting the body of someone who died in this cruel world would have turned your stomach. But again, that was years ago. Now, this body was just some jackass who tried to ambush your family of survivors, and you had to dispose of him. 

“Well that looks… fun.” 

His dry attempt at humor made you huff a single laugh through your nose, following down the stairs a moment later. You got back to the work of pulling the guy’s tattered boots, dragging him through the dirt and leaving a muddy trail of blood from where it seeped out his neck. 

Tommy was coming around the corner with some tools, probably on his way to fix something important, but he stopped a moment to watch you and your unfortunate task. 

“Gonna lend a hand?” You asked him, the pace of your backwards steps slowing when you passed him. 

“No, I think you got it,” he joked, moving on with a smile the next moment. What an ass. He was like a big brother that you never had. You knew that man would kill for you, and has before, but still found every opportunity to mess with or tease you. What an ass.

Just wait till Maria hears about this, you think. Then he’ll be in for it.

You roll the body into the river once you get far enough away from the dam, making sure he won’t cause any harm to the flow or energy. Once you’re sure he’s completely out of the way and taken care of, you turn back to the checkpoint, walking over to Maria as she finished speaking with the main watchguard from last night. You figure you should blame him for your task, since he could have done it… but that’s petty, and you only have room to be petty when you know it’ll get you somewhere. 

“Guess what I just did?” you asked in a mocking tone, a fake smile plastered on your face as you crossed your arms.

“Probably something to earn the sandwich I brought you,” she returned, knowing you well enough by now to recognize your sarcastic behavior. 

“I dragged a body from the bridge to the river, it better be a fucking good sandw-”

“Turkey and cheese.”

“God bless you,” you folded, following her to her backpack inside.

As soon as the food was in your hands, you gave her a genuine smile, sitting down at an old abandoned desk almost immediately. The woman chuckles under her breath. She remembered too many times you’d skipped breakfast before a patrol… it was by now a part of the routine to make you something to eat when she got scheduled alongside you.

“Save some for later, we might be here a while.” She pat your shoulder, leaving without a response from your end. You were far too occupied to give her one, anyways. 

The town’s butcher was a nasty man, but everyone loved him dearly, and this was why. You imagine that before the outbreak he was probably some big time deli owner, one of the best around. It’s just a fucking sandwich, you think… but it’s so damn good.

You saved about half, knowing that now you were fed, you could tie yourself over until the next meal in the hall this evening. It was Wednesday, so the menu would probably consist of soups and salads. 

You get a bit caught up in wrapping your leftover food until you hear a bit of confused banter from outside. It sounds like Maria, but you can’t be sure. Whoever she’s just finished yelling at isn’t an imminent threat, you can tell that much, but you still worry. You take enough time to put the sandwich away and start to leave the warehouse, pulling the gun from its place at your hip. You don’t raise it, but having it close is better, you’ve learned. The noise outside has ceased but after a moment, the door opens.

“Maria?” You don’t even make it out of the hallway when you bump into Tommy, side by side with a stranger. He catches your eye in a familiar way. “Hey, I know you.”

The man is tall, his face looks worn and tried by the tests of time. It’s not a bad face, you reason. It’s just older, seen more things. You recognized him, though he doesn’t look the same now as the source material from which you know him. He used to wear a smile, you’re pretty sure.

“Have we… met?” He seemed confused, trying to meet your wandering stare. Tommy stepped in, thinking he’d better introduce you both. 

“This is my brother, J-”

“Joel,” you nodded, turning back to Tommy for only a second. “I remember from those pictures you brought back.”

“Right,” Tommy mumbled, stepping closer to you. “He’s brought a girl with him. Maria took her to get some of those rations in the back section, but I think you still have the keys on your chain. You might wanna head over there.”

“Alright,” you started in the direction of the exit, walking backward to give Tommy a warning. “I left half a sandwich in there, don’t touch it.”

-

You stood outside of the Boston QZ, fourteen years old and scared as hell. It was hard enough to get in without being caught, but once you were inside, you’d have to remain invisible for the next month, or at least, until you could settle your predicament. 

“This way,” echoed a voice in your head, the young man that accompanied you, trying to sneak you under the city tunnels. You followed him until you were in a sewer, having trouble making your way through given that your body specifications had changed over the last eight and a half months.

The man ahead of you didn’t bother to help or to make the path easier, but kept yelling for you to keep up. 

“I’m trying,” you trudged on, your swollen feet making you stumble along the sludgy water. “It’s really hard.”

He huffed, his face invisible to you as you blocked it out of your mind. “You have to move faster, we can’t get caught down here.”

Your eyes formed tears at his flippant tone, impatient and completely ridiculous about how fast you were moving when you clearly could only strain yourself so much. You let a hand fall subconsciously to your swollen stomach as you climbed out of the sewer, following the man ahead at an impressive speed given your condition. 

You hated him, wanted to leave him… but you knew you would die without his direction. 

“Alright, coast looks clear. If we linger around here a while we can blend with the crowd as we move down.”

He didn’t pay any mind to your state, the tears streaming down your face or the pain in your back and hips. The way you waddled just to meet him around the corner, watching for people passing by. 

“Once we find the contact, you know what to do.” Flat tone, flat words, unfeeling. You still couldn’t see his face, but his voice is strong. It plagues you.

“Yes…” and you turn to the dirty window beside you. Your appearance is appalling at best, scruffy and unbrushed hair pulled back in a ponytail, tear stained cheeks. Your torn jacket and ripped pants barely cling to you, now wet and sagging around you from the water in the sewer. The only thing left to stare at is your too thin body, struggling to hold the weight of what grew inside you. The face that looks you back in the eye… it’s young, too young for this. It has a dark history, and doubts about the future. It wants more than anything to be at peace, to relax and be settled… but it looks to you as is, not as it should be.

“Are you okay?” Maria asks, taking the key you were about to give her, your hand now frozen in mid air as you stare down the kid before you.

“Yeah, I’m good I just-” You can’t seem to move, breathing out shakily. You manage to lift a finger in her direction. “Who is-?”

“Ellie. She’s with Joel, they’ve been traveling together.” She finishes unlocking the storage base, shouldering the door open. When she turns back you haven’t barely moved. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“No…” 

And finally you beg your muscles to move, to turn your head away. Your eyes moving from the girl’s face causes a chain reaction, and you regain full motion again. You wait for Ellie to follow Maria, make sure there’s a good chunk of distance between you, then walk into the building, your head to the ground in deep thought. That face, it’s you… no. It’s her. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Ellie whispers to Maria, turning back to watch the way you struggle forward, trying everything in your power to avert your eyes from her, but she’s still there. 

“I don’t know,” Maria puts her hands on her hips, genuine concern arising.  “What's wrong with you?” 

Give an answer. Give a realistic answer that doesn’t raise more questions. Not the truth, though.

“She just reminds me of someone, that’s all.”

The girl seems angsty given your state and how shaken you seemed. Like you saw a ghost. You still aren’t sure she isn’t one.

“A dead someone?” She asks, louder than her last words.

“No,” You shake your head. Not a lie. You’re not dead yet, and you don’t think she is. Can’t be a ghost, especially not mine. Maria wouldn’t see her. “Sorry if I’m bein’ weird, you just… how old are you?”

“Fourteen... And a half.”

Fourteen was bad enough, but the little witty ‘and a half’ gave you a very good estimate of her birthday, or at least, birth month. You gasped lightly, whatever air you could take in was coming in small doses. You suddenly can’t take a deep breath, your head running in circles and repeating dates, times, names, places. Faces, even.

“Maria, I think I’m gonna sit down a while.”

You fell against the closest table, scooting back on it until your back hit the pole it was against. 

“Take your time,” She muttered, nodding and pulling Ellie along to the lockers.

She pried one open, pulling a few cans of food from the containment and giving them to her. Peaches, baked beans, chicken soup, all were pretty good options in comparison to the hunted and gathered rations she and Joel had been surviving on. She would have been far more excited had she not been focused on the woman sitting down, her eyes closed and hands raised to her head from the other side of the room. 

“Does this happen to her a lot?” She couldn’t stop staring either, the fear about the woman lingering as something familiar.

“Never.”

Maria wasn’t sure what had gotten into you. She had to look through the files of her mind to try and come up with an answer to your madness. The most stoic and brave faced person she’d come across, now sitting in shambles of thought. 

“Do you know who I remind her of?” 

Maria shakes her head, handing Ellie a can opener and a spoon. “No.” 

For a moment she thinks that maybe it could be your sister, deceased… but you said the specific someone wasn’t dead.

“Her whole family died a while ago, and I don’t know anyone back home that looks like you.” 

“She’s on her own?” Ellie dug into the chicken soup can first, her hunger now distracting from the conversation.

“She’s got us, but yeah I guess so.”

All alone. No family left, all gone to cordyceps and raiders. Mother, Father, young brother, baby sister. No one made it. 

“That’s sad. I hope I don’t make her upset or anything.”

Maria shook her head, sitting next to the girl. This poor kid has probably been through a lot. Knowing what she does of Joel, she thinks he can’t be a pleasant traveling companion. Ellie doesn’t need anything else to worry about, least of all a total stranger.

“No, that’s not it. I think she might just be remembering someone she forgot about. Life’s been tough on her.”

The girl nodded, spooning into the can of soup now that it had finally been opened.

-

The woman was tall, dark hair cropped higher than her shoulders, her face was stiff and unexpressive, like most people in this QZ. 

“You got the pills?” She asked, her voice low as she looked around to make sure no one watched on. No Fedra officers or anything of the like.

“Yeah,” the faceless voice spoke, a hand reaching out with the pill bag. It was half full, probably more than one bottle. “Vicodin, hospital standard. You can try 'em, they’re still good.”

“Alright,” she took them, inspecting the sides of the bag. She’s done this enough times, she can tell they’re real. “I found a family that’s willing to take another baby. Had to pull some strings, but they’re open to it.”

“Where are they?” he asked, and you turned to him, the forceful tone he had made you jump a little. The woman before you noticed, and didn’t seem thrilled about it. She turned to you, slightly more compassionate than when she was scowling at the man by your side. 

“How old are you, kid?” 

You looked to him first, and he looked apprehensive. You needed an out, this is it. “Fourteen.”

She took a sharp inhale, turning to the man, her arms crossed. Her face was again ruthless, the glare she sent him was unrelenting. 

“And how old are you?” 

He didn’t answer for a moment, feeling cornered. “That’s not really your business. You got the pills, just tell us where to go.” 

The woman shook her head, dropping it as a chuckle escaped her. 

“I’ll take her,” she answered, eyes flitting back and forth between you. Your body language when she spoke told her you were relieved.”Without you.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

And before you knew it, she pulled a gun from the back of her pants. You gasped, standing back, and the man grabbed at your arm, but you shrugged it away. This is where you get off the train, away from the way it’s been carrying you along the long and winding tracks, only making stops in the most complicated of stations. 

“The deal is I find a safe place for her to have a kid, and someone to hand it off to. Those are the terms, and I intend to keep my end.” 

You stepped closer to her, watching as she placed her finger on the trigger. “I didn’t agree to what I didn’t know.”

“Look, I know where to find more pills, just take us where you’re supposed to and I can get you more,” he raised his hands, trying to beg, trying to argue, but the woman didn’t budge. She knew that you’d either been forced into this companionship, or trafficked into it. She wasn’t a good person by any means, but she wasn’t going to turn a blind eye to something she wouldn’t condone herself. 

“I’m about to ask her a question, and if the answer isn’t no… you’re gettin’ your head blown off, ya hear?” She turned to you, looking you up and down. She wants to be wrong, wants to find out this guy is just a nice companion that happened to be helping you out of the kindness of his heart. But she’s doubtful, call it an apocalyptic mindset. “Is that his kid?”

You chanced a look at the faceless man, feeling his eyes on you though you could not place them. He was expectant, waiting for you to lie so that he could go back to being your keeper, telling you what to do.

“Yes,” you nodded, the tears from earlier returning to your eyes and making the stains on your cheeks even darker than before. 

“Just stop, I can get you more!”

The woman raised her gun more steady, her finger beginning to pull back on the trigger before you stopped her, a hand at her arm. 

“Wait,” you breathed, the rapid inhales were evening out as you asked her: “Can I do it?” 

“Honey, you don’t know what you’re doing, don’t do this,” he begged, the reverberation of his words like a whirring siren in your head. You remember sirens, from before the outbreak. Cops cars, ambulances, fire trucks. You remember them. They always signaled help was on the way, and that’s what this felt like. 

The woman was shocked, but didn’t hesitate to hand you her gun. You’d been through hell with this asshole, and you couldn’t let someone else have the satisfaction of dealing with him. She understood your mindset well, as others in her past brought about the same feelings. 

You raised the gun to him, and heard one more cry of your name pass from his lips before pulling the trigger. The tears stopped flooding your cheeks almost instantly, and you breathed out in relief. The woman didn’t wait for you to hand it back, she took the gun from you and placed it back in her pants. 

“You okay?” She asked. 

“I’m better…”

And then she nudged you out of the alleyway, beginning to lead you in the direction of your next steps. You weren’t out of the woods, yet. 

You don’t even know what happened during the attack, just that you went into autopilot and started shooting from the first sign of intruders. It was more of those fuckin hunters. The ones who killed whole groups of people at a time in order to steal the most trivial items off their bodies. Too bad not one of them survived. 

You tossed up a look and your eyes met the familiar stranger. Joel, Tommy’s long lost brother. Your head was foggy, but you’re pretty sure he just saved your ass from getting shot. Not like it was your fault, you weren’t at your best, and you probably wouldn’t be until you figured shit out.

“Are you alright?” Tommy came up beside you, his arm on your shoulder, sleeve torn where the bullet just missed. 

“Physically.” You turned to see Ellie run up to Joel. 

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

You froze again, watching how she interacted with the older man, the way she was so expressive. Tommy hadn't ever seen you like this. So… affected.

“Means I’m all over the place. Not really sure what’s real right now.” You turned back to him, following him around, trying to find Maria.

“Well, maybe you should ride back with Billy, he’s about to head out. You can go home, rest.”

“No, I don’t-” You cut yourself short, trying to recouperate your words. “I don’t need rest, I need some clarity.”

“On what?” His exasperation was not due to annoyance, but rather the fact that he knew… it had something to do with his brother and Ellie.

“Where did Joel find that girl?” You crossed your arms, trying to broach the subject without just telling him yet.

“Probably back in Boston, why?” 

You’ve known Tommy for ten years, since right after he left his brother. Since he’d gone off on the trail of the fireflies, a trail you’d gone down a while, too. He knew practically everything about you. Knew about your family, about the hunters you used to run with as a kid, the guy who basically kidnapped you… and yeah, he knew about the baby you gave up.

“You remember that one story I told you? From when I was younger?” 

He stopped in his tracks, not turning around fully, but tossing a look over his shoulder at you. It was unsettled and confused, but not upset. He knew you had good reason to believe what you did… but still. It was a one in a million chance, right?

“C’mon… you can’t possibly think that’s her.”

“Tommy…” you knew he was trying to keep your hopes down, that he didn’t want you to over excite yourself on a whim… but what if? You’d prayed for this day, to find her again. You went back for her once and she wasn’t there, neither was the family you left her with. You hoped she was alive, but until now you were never sure… you’re still not sure but you hope, you hope.

“There could be a hundred other kids out there that look a bit like you, you know that.” The chances are a million to one… but he can’t stand to look at you, your eyes so full of something he hasn’t seen there before. Not just hope, but something else, something full of a happiness that is only at its most basic potential, unknowing. “Did you ask her anything? Check for the birthmark?” 

You shook your head, arms tightening as you looked back to Ellie in the distance. 

“No, I was terrified. Kept thinking I was gettin’ haunted by the ghost of my past self.” 

It was meant as a joke, but it was partially serious.

He sighed, following your line of sight and tilting his head. Yeah, he saw the resemblance. He’d met you at age eighteen, but he pictured you younger. Cheeks still a little puffy from the unlost baby fat, eyes still bright and twinkling despite the things you’d seen. Probably quite a bit shorter, too. He figured that she’s the spitting image of you from that age.

“You really think it’s her?”

You threw your hands up in the air. How many times did you have to say it? Try to convince him? No, you weren’t sure… but you had every reason to believe it. 

“Same age, same face, same QZ-”

“Look… talk to her. Ask her some questions. See if anything matches up.” He ran a hand over his face. He’d made up his mind about something only a minute ago, and it was plaguing him even more now that you came to him. “Now, I gotta go talk to Maria, and after that I’m gonna take her off of Joel’s hands. She’s gonna go to the fireflies. You’re more than welcome to join me, I’ll need the help.”

You used to make runs with Tommy all the time. No problem… but this also meant more time with Ellie, possibly your Ellie. You could ask her more, find out the answers you’ve been longing for since you left her. 

“Okay…” 

Tags: open

[nrdmssgs]

Alex Keller meeting civilian reader scenario

Masterlist

Ok, so I'm well aware, that Farah exists, and I respect all those, who ship her with Alex. She is the queen, hands down. But I wanted to do a series of “COD men meeting civilian reader”, so sorry guys, this time you, readers, get him. The reader is just a small nervous overthinker here. So that's where all this "veterans" stuff comes from. I usually bear an AFAB reader in mind, but, I think, I've made no specific allusions to the gender of the reader here.

You didn't like this whole idea from the start. From the very moment, when a friend of yours paused from laughing on your joke and turned to her spouse.

"Babe, you know, who has a tad similar sense of humor? Alex does..." - yeah, that "Alex does" didn't sound good to you. This wasn't the first time these two had tried to end your quiet single life by introducing you to someone.

"Alex?" - you tensed up.

"Yeah Alex. He is a friend. A good lad.", they both grinned at you. "Good lad" was a very bad sign. A sign that this "good lad" was only a few minutes apart from getting your number from your friends.

"No. I'm done with this. The last time was... THE LAST EVER!", you really were hoping, you would convince these two to leave your single ass alone in your happy hiatus. The last guy they tried to set you up with turned out to be a disaster!

"I promise, it's not like that this time! He is funny, has a charming personality, absolutely your type, I think you even have the same tastes in music, if I remember correctly" - your friend started rambling.

And just when you were about to interrupt her with a reminder that you are too old to date guys based on the same taste in music, her husband added 4 words that made you stumble.

"He is a veteran."

Now that was a problem...

No, you didn't disrespect or dislike people with such a background. And by no means, you could even think to discriminate them. If anything, they deserved endless respect, gratitude, care and love. But you weren't naive. You understood that the life of such a person could turn into hell if he was not supported by someone incredibly strong. And you did not believe that you would ever become such a strong person. Damn, you had sometimes problems coping even with yourself.

But you also could never say, "I'll never speak to a guy, just because he is a veteran". No way.

So you sighed and thought to yourself, that you'll just meet him once, be nice and friendly, thank him for what he was doing, shake his hand and buy him a beer.

That's why you agreed to this date, albeit with a heavy heart.

So you ended up at the bar waiting for this guy on a chilly autumn evening.

You were still questioning yourself if it was even fair to go on a date that is meant to be the last one (and only one participant knew it for sure), when you heard someone call your name behind your back.

You turned back and froze for a moment.

Why did this guy had to have an absolutely disarming smile and those charming clear blue eyes and barely noticeable precious freckles?

Your brain seemed to short circuit, because all you managed to answer was "Oh..."

"I prefer Alex, but if it's a happy "oh" - I'm ok with that too" - he grinned and gave you a friendly hug.

And at that moment you knew, you were gone.

Well, maybe there was a tiny bit of hope for you... What if the guy was just a jerk? This would make stopping any interaction easier for you. "C'mon, help me out here, man, please!" - you desperately thought as the date began.

He didn't help you. Not at all.

As promised: he was funny, charming, wildly beautiful and... warm. Not "formally friendly", but really, sincerely warm.

In an hour, you didn't even feel like it was a date. You were just chatting with your old buddy.

And yes, he got all your jokes. The way he laughed, closing his eyes sometimes, just made you weak.

You even forgot to worry about all that "Oh no, how do I pay respect and show gratitude to the veteran" stuff. He made you feel comfortable and relaxed.

Well, at least until he caught you staring at his tattoos, when you thought, he looked in the other direction.

"Wanna see the rest?" - he smiled and rolled the sleeve of his shirt up.

You were a blushing, apologetic mess, till he turned it all up into a joke.

"C'mon, it's not every day, that I catch the attention of someone so adorable. Just pretend, you are interested and ill be reminiscing on how I showed you my ink for the rest of my life and boost my self-esteem" - he chuckled.

Oh, his sweet, a bit raspy little laughs.

He looked you right in the eyes, but somehow didn't make eye contact uncomfortable.

You didn't even notice how time passed until it was time to say goodbye.

"Did your friend already give you my number? No? Ok, time to fix this!" - he takes your phone from your hands and writes something down there. Then he laughs softly and makes a funny face at the camera.

When he returns the phone to you, his number is written there and there is even a funny photo on his contact.

"Alex "Oh" Keller".

Well, of course, he wrote his name down that way.

"Our mutual friend said that you somehow take the military too seriously. Here's a reminder for you that we are just goofballs in a uniform sometimes."

When you came back home, you opened a chat with your friend. Of course, she already spammed you with a ton of questions on how did you like Alex.

"What did you tell him about me?!" "I mean... thanks" "Hes perfect", you type, but then delete and type instead "Really, thnx!"

[sorchathered]

Sacred New Beginnings- Chapter 10

A/N- Holy cow yall we are finally here! Our last chapter of this series, but not the end for Jake and Stormy! I will be checking in here and there, I have some one shots planned for them in the future and I’m excited for you guys to see how things have been going for them. Again thank you all so much for the love, I will always have a special place for this series since it’s my first baby. I want to give a massive shout out to @mamachasesmayhem for being my cheerleader from the very beginning of this series, proofreading for me and helping me brainstorm when I couldn’t push through the writer’s block. You have been amazing and I love you!! 😘

Pairing- Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader (oc Stormy)

Warnings- language, PTSD, smut

It had been a little over a week since you showed up at Jake's doorstep, he still couldn’t believe that he’d finally gotten what he wished for. Waking up next to you every morning, getting to commute to work together, sneaking off to hook up during lunch, it was all so much more than he could’ve hoped for. You were so damn happy, you and Viper had integrated seamlessly into your new squad, some people like Harvard and Omaha you already knew but there were new players as well and everyone had been so welcoming. You had kind of dreaded running into Bradley and Erin but even that seemed to go well, they had welcomed their son Nicky a few months after your accident and he was now a full blown toddler, the spitting image of his father. Both of them had been friendly, Bradley welcoming you back and Erin saying she was so happy you’d recovered, you knew they truly meant it and graciously accepted their words.

Jake maintained that you were a saint but really it was just that you hadn’t truly loved Bradley, at least not in a way that would’ve lasted. Neither of you had been compatible, and it was so easy to see now that you’d been with Jake for nearly two years; when it was truly meant to be it was unlike anything else mattered but the one you loved, and you couldn’t imagine life without Jake beside you. The ring in the top of his closet seemed to mock him every day, he wanted it to be absolutely perfect but nothing seemed good enough for his girl, so he let it sit untouched for yet another week as he took you out to the arcade on Friday for what had quickly become a weekly date night.

You had put a bunch of ideas in a jar the week before, told him to shake it up and pick one and off you both went on whatever adventure was scribbled on the tiny note, tonight was burgers and laser tag and while he’d joked that he was too old for that he had been the one hunting you down to shoot you as he cackled, maybe he just needed to be reminded that things didn’t always have to be so stressful because he couldn’t remember when he’d had this much fun.

After a lazy Sunday beach day and dinner on the grill he’d curled up with you on the couch with a movie, you’d meant for things to be innocent but he smelled so good and you found yourself turning in his arms to sling your leg over his hip, making out with him like you were a pair of teenagers. He fucked you slow and steady into the leather couch while the movie droned on in the background, his mouth slotted against yours as his hands roamed your body, you loved to joke how insatiable he had become since you moved in but you knew you were just as gone for him, too many nights had been spent apart and now having him in close proximity all you wanted was to make him feel good. You both came undone together as you whispered I love you into his neck, and all Jake could think of was how perfect his life had become.

Monday morning before he’d even had his coffee he’d gotten a text from Maverick to head to Cyclone’s office as soon as he got in, he immediately felt his stomach drop just thinking of what that meant. Deployment, for who knows how long and who knows where, and ultimately having to say goodbye to you again after he just got you back. He couldn’t bear to say anything to you until he knew for sure, so he went through the motions business as usual as you both ate breakfast and headed to work, kissing you a little longer than normal before you parted but you didn’t seem to notice anything off, promising to meet him for lunch with a wink and kisses blown in his direction. His feet felt like lead standing outside of Admiral Simpson’s office, he knew nothing good was coming from this meeting and when he entered he could tell by the look on his face that it was exactly what he thought. “How long?” He said as Mav handed him his papers, he could feel the lump forming in his throat and wanted out of this room as soon as possible. “Nine weeks son, I’m sorry Jake I know Y/N just got here, but you’re the best for the task and if I could I’d let you stay. She’ll be alright, I’ll keep an eye on her, you just do the job and come home safe.” Jake nodded and shook his hand, bailing from the room as soon as he could, he swiped his phone open and dialed you as fast as he could, but he couldn’t seem to catch his breath and when you answered he was full blown panicking, choking out to meet him by the truck and hanging up as he collapsed into the seat of his f-150. He wasn’t ready to go, you’d only been back in the air for a few months and now he finally had you here where he could take care of you, why couldn’t someone else have been picked?

You’d run across the lot to find him with his head in his hands in the front seat, wrenching the door open to wrap your arms around him, anything to help him regulate his emotions. He finally seemed to settle his breathing, relaxing into your arms while you stroked his sandy hair and kissed his cheeks. “What’s going on baby? You’ve got me scared now, did something happen with your family? Is your mom ok?” He squeezed your hand and passed the papers off to you, you knew exactly what it meant and you felt cold all over. This was the job, and while you both loved it you hated this part more than anything. He would miss all the major holidays together in your new home, your heart broke a little at having to celebrate Christmas without him and he let you curl into his arms and cry.

He only had a week from getting his papers to shipping out and it felt like the time was speeding away from him and he couldn’t catch it. He’d been adamant that the two of you update your wills on Tuesday and you had vehemently opposed it, he was stressing a little too much for your liking and it left you unmoored. Deployments were a part of this life, and yes you’d had a serious scare this last time but that didn’t mean he needed to become doom and gloom over it, you were worried about his mindset going into this, he needed a clear head if he had any hope of getting through this unscathed.

Wednesday night he was meticulously going through his packing list, gear spread all over the living room when you stepped into the house with take out, the vein in his forehead that only came out when he was angry seemed to be a permanent presence as of late, he was all furrowed brows and tense shoulders and you couldn’t take it for one more minute. “Jacob Thomas Seresin!” You called from the kitchen and he snapped his head to attention, he hadn’t even noticed you had gotten home until you shouted, looking across the room to find you with a pizza box in one hand and you completely stripped to nothing as you leaned against the doorframe. You sauntered over to where he sat cross legged on the floor, dropping the pizza box on the coffee table as you lowered yourself onto his lap, he was already getting hard for you when you pressed your bare pussy to the front of his gym shorts, his face going completely blank, no sign of that pesky forehead vein in sight.

“Fuck Stormy what are you doing baby? I gotta get this-“ he stopped short with a gasp as you ground yourself into him as you yanked a little roughly on his hair, pulling his face to yours and sloppily licking into his open mouth, he seemed to short circuit for a moment but recovered quickly as he wrapped his arms around your bare torso and kissed you back with fervor. Yanking his head back again to look up at you he blinked glazed emerald orbs at you, you were frustrated with him, he could see that now but he couldn’t focus enough to ask with you on top of him like this, he thought about asking but thought better of it when you reached down and took his length from his shorts, thoughts scattering all over again when you got up on your knees and sunk down on him, you still hadn’t said anything but he couldn’t be bothered anymore, whining out your name as you took him to the hilt with your warm center clenching around him. You nibbled on his lip and rubbed your nose along his as you wrapped your arms around his neck and you could feel the tension leaving him as you held him close, you knew he’d needed it as much as you, just the closeness of your bodies pressed together was enough to soothe whatever had been ailing both your minds.

“I’m going to sit here with you just like this until you calm the fuck down and tell me what’s got you so amped up, you’ve been like an exposed nerve ever since you got your papers and I can’t let you leave like this. You’re scaring me Jake, you can’t leave for a mission distracted you know better than that. You’re the best pilot I’ve ever seen and they picked you to head this op. You have to tell me what’s going on, you just have to!” You cried out as tears began to pour from your eyes, your throat felt raw with the emotion bubbling out of you and you began to shake in his embrace, the combination of being so full of him and revealing your worry almost too much. He seemed to jolt out of whatever trance he’d been in at your tears, swiping at them as they ran down your cheeks and kissing you hard, he knew he’d been distant and stressed couldn’t begin to describe how he’d been feeling, but he hadn’t even thought about himself and how it could affect the mission; all his worries had been solely focused on you.

“Oh baby I’m so sorry, shh hey I’m here ok? I’ll tell you all of it, just don’t cry sugar. I can't stand knowing I hurt you.” He was kissing every bit of your face he could get to, smoothing his hands all over you as you began to come down and regulate your breathing. You couldn’t be closer if you tried and yet he still felt so far away, you needed more so you latched on to his mouth and tightened your arms around his neck, he let you ground yourself and calm down, just breathing you in until the tears finally stopped. “Baby, baby I love you so much, I’m sorry” he murmured against your lips, you nodded and sniffled a little but didn’t loosen your grip, rocking into him slowly knowing he’d know what you wanted. He groaned low in his throat and flipped the two of you over as he pressed you gently into the carpet, letting the hot languid kisses burn the two of you up, all heat and bodies grinding into each other, letting all the stress go and just being hopelessly in love.

Hours later after you were both fully sated and relaxed you laid naked in his arms and ate the cold pizza while he let out all the words he’d kept bottled up. “It hadn’t ever occurred to me that we could lose this, I mean our job is dangerous sure but some naive part of me just thought we were untouchable.”

“Until I got hurt” you said quietly.

“Until you got hurt. It felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under me, every dream I’d ever had of us and our future could’ve been gone in an instant and I am terrified that something could happen to me and I’d leave you here alone.” He tightened his grip on your waist and you pressed a kiss to his chest, you knew exactly how he felt because you’d felt it all as you fell out of the sky during your ejection. But he couldn’t live in fear, it made him a liability to his fellow pilots and he was too damn good at what he did to let this destroy his confidence.

“You have to have faith baby, faith that you’ll make it through, that I’ll make it through and that we will get that long happy life that we want. I’m not going anywhere Jake, and I need you to be my cocky asshole pilot who thinks he’s God’s gift to the navy. Go be a badass and come home to me.”

You both laughed at that, he’d grown so much from that dickish holier than thou douchebag he had been when you first met, he was so much more level headed and mature. He promised he’d fight like hell and you knew he would.

The missions were grueling, the weather had been miserable lately and it made drills almost impossible, intel was scarce and worst of all he hadn’t been able to hear your voice in weeks. He had missed Halloween and thanksgiving, both squads had joined up for a potluck and you’d sent him a bunch of pictures, he was just grateful you weren’t doing this alone. He had gotten an email from his mother earlier in the week hoping he could talk to you about staying for the Christmas holidays and he couldn’t think of a better place for you to be. You loved Christmas, it used to annoy him because it wasn’t his cup of tea but somehow you’d softened him to it. He wrote to her quickly to tell her it was a great idea and to give you a call, when he’d had a knock on his door. Fritz leaned in with a look he knew all too well, it was time to fly out. He emailed you as well, telling you he loved you and then grabbed his gear and headed for the tarmac, he could only hope he’d be able to execute this and get home safely.

You stepped off the plane in Austin on December 18th to the entire Seresin clan in the lobby, Jake’s sisters and mom rushing forward to wrap you up in hugs and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this kind of love, probably not since your grandmother had passed nearly a decade before. She would have adored Jake and his family, they spent the holiday season showing you all over town, hitting up all of Jake’s old haunts and embarrassing family pictures. Movie nights and Christmas cookie bake offs, family dinners and shopping trips with the girls; it had been so much fun and the Seresin’s had welcomed you with open arms, it felt like somehow you belonged here, the only thing missing was your 6 foot sandy blonde dreamboat boyfriend.

Correspondence had been spotty with Jake for a while, you’d gotten a FaceTime call after a mission and he had seemed grim, they’d lost a teammate to enemy fire and the weather had been abysmal, almost everyone had come down with the flu and he was miserable. He said he hoped he’d make it home by mid January and your heart broke all over again at not getting to spend Christmas together in your home, but he was adamant that the best place for you was with his family, and that next year would be a big blowout, he even agreed to let you buy any and every inflatable you wanted to cover the yard in Christmas cheer.

What you didn’t realize was that he was already on his way back to Coronado, he had coordinated with Phoenix to help him turn the house into a Christmas wonderland and would be back just in time for you to get home. He couldn’t let the ring sit any longer, he needed it on your finger now. After too many hours covering his house from top to bottom in snowflakes and Christmas lights, it was finally time for your plane to land. He was so nervous, he knew he didn’t have any reason to be, Javy had kept him up to date on when your plane landed and when he picked you up. Jake could barely sit still, so full of nervous energy knowing what was to come. Finally, he heard Javy’s truck pull into the drive and watched through the blinds as he helped you gather your luggage, even in leggings and his old UT Austin sweatshirt you looked like you’d stepped off a runway in his eyes, every bit his dream come true. This was it, when you came through the door he’d finally get to make you his forever, it had all been worth the wait.

Epilogue (Lover)

Jake Seresin masterlist

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