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azzifudd · 4 days

Text

possession

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: four times paige & azzi knew they belonged to each other

rated: teen

2.5k words

disclaimer: many made up events obviously

[AO3 LINK]

The ball swishes through the net, nearly soundless in the empty gym. Azzi has been taking shots for the past three minutes. She hasn’t missed yet.

She had arrived at the UConn campus only 15 minutes ago, to surprise Paige for her birthday, and after nearly five minutes of hugging, that Azzi is sure Paige would’ve turned into more if her parents hadn’t been there, she had been dragged to the gym where the other girls were in recovery after a strenuous practice.

Paige had left her in the gym, promising to be back soon with the others, and Azzi had picked up a ball to pass the time. As she takes another jumpshot, one of the doors bangs open and she flinches. Her shot goes wide, bouncing off the back of the rim.

Two boys have entered the gym, and Azzi vaguely recognizes them. One of them rebounds her ball and brings it over to her.

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. I’m Andre. I’m on the men’s basketball team.”

She’s heard Paige mention him once or twice.

“Y’know if you want any pointers with your jumper, I could help you out.” His eyes run over her, from head to toe.

“What’s your name?” He asks, overeager.

“Azzi,” she replies, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Dude, that’s Azzi. Bueckers’ girl.” His friend has come up beside them, after hearing Azzi introduce herself.

Azzi feels a flush overtake her entire body. Part of her almost wants to be offended that this boy, on one of the top college teams in the nation, didn’t recognize her. She’s the number one high school player in the nation, and it’s not even close. But another part of her, a bigger part of her, loves that so many miles away from home, a complete stranger hears her name and knows she’s Paige’s.

“Oh shit, you’re Paige’s Azzi. Azzi Fudd!” Andre covers his mouth and groans. “I was trying to teach you how to shoot.”

His teammate cackles beside him, slapping him on the back. “She’s been in three point contests with Steph Curry, my guy, I think she’s good.”

“Damn, that’s embarrassing. I’m so sorry.”

She smiles up at him, now charmed by the whole thing. “It’s cool, I didn’t know who you were either.”

“Oh! She got your ass.” His friend laughs again before turning to her and introducing himself. “I’m James.”

“Azzi.” They shake hands.

“Like I said, I know. PB does not shut up about you.” He does a quick dribble behind his back before pulling up into a smooth jump shot that swishes through the net. “We’ll be shooting around after practice and it’s ‘Oh, Azzi never would have missed that shot. She’s the hardest worker I know.”

“You shoulda seen her a few months ago. Always tapping away on that iPad, putting together clips.”

Azzi remembers the video that Paige had so proudly shown to her family. How silly, and sweet, and how Paige it had been. It makes Azzi even more excited for dinner tonight, where she will finally get to tell Paige that she is committing to UConn.

The door pushes open again, and this time it’s Paige who rushes over to them, throwing an arm around Azzi’s neck.

“Hey, these losers bothering you?” Paige asks, laughter clear in her voice. But Azzi knows that it would only take one word from her to set her off if Azzi asked.

“No, they’ve been cool,” she says.

“Well, Coach heard you were here and wanted to say hi. See you guys later.” Paige leads Azzi deeper into the facility.

And if they’re a little late to meet everyone because Azzi pulls Paige into a secluded broom closet for some alone time, no one needs to know but them.

Azzi’s sprinting around the top of the court, rounding one screen and then another, trying desperately to get open. She’s open for a split second, and that’s all it takes for Paige to hit her with the pitch perfect pass. She rises to take the three that could tie the game when a body barrels into her legs.

She hits the floor hard. A whistle blows as the referee calls what Azzi hopes is a shooting foul. She stays on the floor for a moment longer, catching her breath, when suddenly the arena erupts in noise.

Whistles blow, and she finally looks up to see a furious Paige being pulled back by their teammates as one of the referees signals a technical foul. She is spitting furiously at an opposing player. Nika is at her side, simultaneously holding her back from causing more trouble for them and firing Croatian insults at the other team.

Azzi won’t find out until someone shows her the footage after the game, but Paige had stormed over the moment she was fouled and had pushed the offending player with two hands to the chest.

The referee points off the court. Paige has been ejected.

Coach has run over, screaming as the officials struggle to get everything under control. Aaliyah runs over to help Azzi up.

“Paige! Get your ass over here, now!” Geno’s voice somehow booms over the raucous Gampel crowd.

Paige throws her arms up, shrugging their teammates off of her. Satisfied that she has calmed down, everyone begins to back off. But instead of heading off the court like she’s supposed to, she makes a beeline for Azzi, who is still slightly shaken but standing.

Paige raises a hand as if to touch Azzi’s face, but she stops, recognizing where they are. She rests the hand on her shoulder instead.

“You good?” She asks, voice hoarse from shouting.

Azzi nods, still breathing hard. “Why did you do that, you idiot.” But even as she asks, she knows the answer.

Paige smiles crookedly. It is soft despite the noise around them, tender in a way Azzi knows Paige saves just for her.

“Bueckers!” Geno roars. They know if he could storm the court for her, he would have already.

“Go,” Azzi says. “I’ll see you after I win this game.”

“That’s my girl.” Paige leaves the court with a smirk on her face, cheers of her name following her.

Azzi sinks the free throws to send them to overtime. And when they end up winning by eight, even Geno can’t complain too much.

@bueckersbuckets35 it’s bullshit that paige had to apologize. they were targeting azzi all game. bet she’d do it again in a heartbeat if she had to

Paige Bueckers liked this tweet.

“That layup you had in the third!” Paige mimes a euro step, mimics taking a shot with her left hand. “Left hand, baby, bang!”

Hailey van Lith laughs at Paige’s antics, pushing at her playfully. “I mean, it wasn’t enough to get the win against you guys, but it’s always a good time pulling up against you.”

Even if they didn’t talk all the time, it feels like there would always be a special connection between all the girls who had played together for USA Basketball.

Hailey glances around. “How’s the wifey been? I didn’t get a chance to talk with her at the arena.”

Paige grins at that. She knows Hailey means it as a joke, that they are way too young to even think about marriage, but there is always something deeply satisfying for Paige to hear someone acknowledge that she is Azzi's and Azzi is hers.

“She’s doing aight. Her surgery went well. It’s just a shit deal y’know.” There have been plenty of tear filled nights for them both since Azzi had experienced the freak injury, but now Azzi’s ready to move forward, and Paige will be there every step of the way, like Azzi was for her.

Hailey smiles apologetically. “I was really sorry to hear about it. I remember you could never shut up about playing with her.”

“Thank you.” They both jump when Azzi pops up beside them. She gives Hailey a quick hug hello before turning to Paige.

She’s surprised when Azzi wraps her arms around her waist, tucking herself under Paige’s arm, pressing their bodies together.

They are no strangers to PDA. In fact, if Paige had her way, she would never stop touching Azzi. But the younger girl is usually more reluctant around people she doesn’t know, and with Hailey’s teammates around, it is a surprise to see her so affectionate.

Paige isn’t going to complain. She tightens her arm around Azzi’s shoulder and presses a quick kiss to her temple. She catches a whiff of alcohol on her breath. That explains the touchiness.

They chat with Hailey for a bit longer, but when Azzi begins to zone out mid convo, Paige excuses them both and walks them up to Azzi’s apartment.

“She’s so pretty.”

“Huh?” Paige pauses as she wipes the last of Azzi’s makeup from her face as they stand in the bathroom together.

“Hailey. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

Paige shrugs. “Mm, I guess so.” She moves in closer, nose pressing into Azzi’s head, breathing in the scent of her. “Let’s go to bed.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything else until they’re tucked in together in her bed.

“You were talking to her for a long time.”

“Huh?” Paige groans into the back of Azzi’s neck, already half asleep. When she finally registers the words, she replies, “Who?”

“Hailey,” she replies, like Paige should know exactly what she’s talking about.

“We were just catching up. It’s been a while.” Paige presses a kiss to the side of Azzi’s neck, ready to fall asleep.

“Do you miss playing with her?”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” Paige props herself up on her elbow, turning Azzi onto her back to face her. She softens at the look on her girl’s face.

She presses a soft kiss to the dimple in Azzi’s cheek. And then she kisses her nose, her forehead, and all over her face until she’s smiling.

“Hey,” Paige says, making sure Azzi is looking into her eyes as she speaks. “You’ll be back. Best player in the nation, baby.”

Azzi pulls her into a deep kiss that still sends Paige’s head spinning and heart racing even after they have shared so many. When they pull apart, they are both breathless.

“Me and you.” Azzi’s eyes are shining and clear.

“You and me.” Paige gives Azzi a roguish grin and lets her pull her down once more.

“Yo, where’s P?” KK asks, scanning the room. It’s Senior Night, and they’re all getting dressed for the game. Even Azzi has just slipped into a jersey, even though she isn’t playing tonight.

“The seniors are on the court already. I think they had to do a run through of the ceremony. Why?”

Azzi is suspicious. KK looking for Paige is always a sign of something potentially stress inducing on the way.

“Oh, no reason, I just wanna make sure I’m outta the way when Daddy Paige sees you in her jersey for the first time.” KK cackles, ducking out of the way of the towel that Azzi flings at her.

“Nah, we all know there’s no way this is the first time she’s worn it.” Ice chimes in.

“Shut up,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes, glad that the fluorescent lights hide her blush. Surprisingly, she hasn’t worn Paige’s jersey since they were in high school, and even though she’d never admit it to her teammates, she is very excited to see how Paige reacts to it.

The injured players head into the arena just before tip off. The place is packed with fans there to celebrate the players who have given their all for UConn.

Besides that though, the media presence is palpable. The entire basketball world is waiting to hear whether Paige is staying or declaring. Azzi has known for weeks that Paige has decided to stay at UConn for another season. She has unfinished business, and even if they won the title this season, her injuries have robbed her of too much time here.

Azzi feels eyes on her as soon as they get into the open. She has been linked to Paige since before they even came here, so everyone is clearly gauging her mood on such an important night. She could try to play it more coy, but she can’t fight the smile on her face when she sees Paige warming up.

She’s getting one more year with her person. One more chance to fulfill the promise they made to each other when she chose UConn. She’s so happy.

Azzi waves up into the stands where hers and Paige’s family sit together, all wearing Bueckers gear. Drew jumps up and down when she makes a heart with her hands in his direction.

She’s stepping onto the court when she feels it. Goosebumps pimple her skin and she turns to where the majority of the team is casually warming up.

Paige stands at midcourt, staring at her, slack jawed. Azzi smiles coyly at her when Paige takes a step toward her, only to be stopped by CD who is standing next to her with a clipboard and an eyeroll.

Azzi just laughs and goes to take a few shots near the others. She isn’t close to being cleared to play, but she misses it so much. Even just being on the court during game days can be emotional lately. Soon, she feels a heated presence at her back.

Azzi turns around and finds Paige standing close. Too close for such a public place, but she can’t bring herself to move. Paige runs her eyes up and down Azzi’s body, lingering on where the number five splays proudly over her chest.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. You tryin’ to get me in trouble?” Paige asks, voice low.

“Just wanted to support my favorite player.” Azzi looks up at Paige from beneath her lashes, and finds those blue eyes fixated on her lips.

“She must be pretty damn good if she’s your favorite.”

Azzi watches the muscles in Paige’s arms and shoulders flex as she links her hands behind her back, stopping herself from reaching out to touch.

“She’s not bad.” Azzi smirks. “Could use some work on her shooting stroke though.”

Paige scoffs. “I’ll show you my str-”

Two arms suddenly wrap around their shoulders as KK comes barreling into them.

“K, what the hell?” Paige pushes at her as they fight to stay steady on their feet.

“Yo, mom and dad, y’all have got to tone it down.”

KK smiles at them. “Media girl is on the way for some pics and P looks like she’s about to jump you.”

Azzi flushes as they all separate.

“What would y’all do without me though, seriously.”

KK strikes a ridiculous pose, distracting the media girl so Paige and Azzi can rearrange themselves into a more platonic pose.

Azzi hopes no one can see how flustered she is when Paige whispers in her ear to keep the jersey on for after the game.

They take a few quick pictures before it’s time for tip off. It’s an easy win, everyone playing with joy and anticipation of the celebration after the game.

For a moment, Azzi feels deeply sad. She wants to be out there, next to her girls.

But then the final buzzer sounds, and Azzi watches Paige bask in the attention of the crowd who loves her almost as much as Azzi does, and forgets everything but the beaming smile on Paige’s face.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #first time writing something like this hope its not shit #felt cute might delete later

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jpbpxma · 1 month

Text

mile high club;

content warnings/tags: nsfw, contains smut, sex on an airplane, javier peña x f!reader.

The air conditioning of the first class cabin makes you shiver. You're annoyed at yourself for wearing only a dress - caught up in your excitement at the thought of finally going on a vacation with your boyfriend. Javier settles into his seat next to you noisily before looking over to smile at you, when he notices you shivering. Putting his hand up to catch the flight attendant's attention, he calls her over, "Could we get a blanket, please? " She nods and goes to retrieve it while Javier puts his warm hand over yours and gives it a squeeze. She returns and hands the neatly folded blanket to him, which he unfurls and drapes across both of your laps, pulling it up over your shoulders.

You rest your head on Javier's shoulder as you casually watch some random movie he chose, genre being romance of course, his favourite. After some time passes, you feel yourself getting sleepy. You're close to dozing off when you feel his hand that had been resting on your knee, under the blanket, slowly trace a purposeful path up your thigh, lifting your dress up with it. Now fully alert, you raise and turn your head to look at him questioningly, to which he simply responds with the corner of his mouth lifting up and leans in close to kiss you full on the lips. You happily return the kiss as his fingers grip at your thigh, the other hand sliding into your hair to pull you closer.

As he's kissing you, his hand on your thigh makes it way up into your inner thighs, stretching his fingers to part your legs. You grab his arm tightly when he slides his fingertips up and down over your lips before moving up to press against your clit, making you let out a quiet moan unexpectedly. Wanting to return the favour, you slip your hand under the blanket and rub over the bulge straining against the fabric of his jeans. You feel his body shudder in response and you apply more pressure with your palm, he gasps a little mid kiss and you feel his hot breath against your face.

He starts rubbing quick, tight circles right on your clit, making you arch your back and stifle a groan of pleasure, as you palm him harder. You can't help but stare at the way he bites his bottom lip to hold back any sounds, he's just so pretty. You both freeze when you see the flight attendant passing by with a noisy cart on the other side of the aisle. You stay frozen when you realize how disheveled you two look from your sinful deeds and you definitely wanted more than what you could do here in this small, very public space.

"Maybe we should do this somewhere more private? " He asks you, clearly thinking the same thing. You nod and move to stand up, letting the blanket drop and pulling your dress down hastily - not before you notice his eyes dragging across the exposed skin with half-lidded eyes. "Wait a minute and then come join me," you tell him and he nods quickly. You turn your body away from him and step across in front of him but before you could walk away, he places both hands on your hips and pulls you down onto his lap. The sudden movement startles you and you gasp as he wraps his arms around your waist.

You feel his bulge pushing against your ass as you sit on his lap and he leans forward to whisper into your ear, "Oops, turbulence I guess." Javier chuckles as you panickedly sit up even though the cabin was nearly empty and no one was paying you two any attention. "One minute," you breathe out, trying to calm your flustered self. Javier just nods and laughs again, smacking your ass lightly when you step out into the aisle and head straight for the washroom. God, he's such a dick. There's no one around the door and when you look back at him, he nods at you once, smiling with a wink, as you enter and close the door behind you.

You're buzzing with anticipation as you try to calm yourself down by taking in your surroundings. This is your first time in a first class washroom and you notice it's roomier than economy washrooms, although not by much. You check yourself out in the mirror, fixing you hair and swiping your lipstick that's been smudged. Biting your lip, you start to wonder if a minute has always been this long when you hear a noise outside the door - almost like a tapping sound rather than an actual knock. You open the door quickly to see Javier standing outside with one arm propped on the door frame, looking over at you with a knowing smirk.

Smiling back at him, you grab ahold of his jeans by the waist and pull him towards you before you close the door and lock it. His hands rest on your hips immediately as his body is forced to be close to yours in the small space. He leans closer and claims your lips again in a kiss, his lips feel so soft and warm, you feel yourself melting into the kiss. While you're kissing, he turns you around, slowly backing you into the door with his whole body pressing up against you. He moves one of his hands up to cup your cheek while your arms snake around his shoulders, pulling him into you. His fingers squeeze the flesh on your hips, then move to wrap his arm around your waist and pull your hips forward so they meet his.

You let out a gasp when you feel him grind his hips into yours and you feel how hard he is again. He takes this opportunity to wander his tongue into your mouth, kissing you hungrily as he continues to grind against you. You're moaning into his mouth, gripping his shoulder tightly as you feel yourself getting wetter, your core tingling at the feeling. He groans as you move your hips against him faster, the friction felt delicious. You gasp at how good it feels, but this wasn't enough, you definitely needed more. "Hmm, Javier," you moan out, moving to stop his hips so you can pull down his jeans and boxers.

He stares at your face with lust-filled, dark eyes as you do this, lifting your dress up and pulling you panties down. He takes one of your thighs and lifts it up so he’s holding your leg around his waist. You take his cock in your hand and stroke him gently, rubbing your thumb over his tip; he hisses, his grip on your thigh tightening, his fingers pressing dents into your skin. He takes over, pushing himself into you, until he’s all the way in. You moan breathlessly, gripping his biceps as he stays still to let you adjust. You squirm a little when you’re ready for him to move, wriggling your hips, unable to speak. Fortunately, he understands and begins to move.

His thrusts are hard and focused, angling himself and holding your thigh up securely so he hits your sweet spot every time. You moan louder than you expected, quivering a bit as he thrusts into you. Your mouth hangs open as you glance over to see the reflection of you both in the almost full-sized mirror. You're transfixed by how sexy Javier looks, his hair all touseled, concentrated on moving in and out of you while scrunching his face to control his pleasure. You watch him as he drops his head back, eyes closed and as his lips parted in a almost smile, low groans escaping his throat.

A rush of pleasure floods through you as you watch him, you turn your head back forward and pull Javier in to kiss him again. This kiss is deep and intense right from the start, he wraps his long fingers around the nape of your neck to hold you tightly. He smells so incredible; you feel like you're in a haze, enveloped in lust, musk and linen. The combination of all of this stimulation along with the element of danger of being caught is enough to have you climaxing like you never have before. You moan as you come, mouth agape, eyes closed, your head leaning against the wall.

Lost in your own orgasm, you hadn't noticed that he had orgasmed with you, now panting heavily. He holds you close to his body as you both come down from your high when suddenly, you're interrupted by a knock on the door and someone asking if the washroom was free. You both freeze instantly, but Javier quickly gathers himself and replies, "Sorry, it's occupied." As you hear receding footsteps, you let out a huge breath you didn't realize you were holding. He laughs at this, "You were really scared, huh? Poor baby." You smack him on the chest, rolling your eyes, "You're an idiot, Javier Peña." He laughs again and sighs happily, resting his forehead on yours.

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hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog · 3 months

Note

Vox doesn't mean to overhear the conversation. He really doesn't. He's just passing by his daughter's bedroom when Charlie says something that makes him pause.

"…I went to go see Angel at the Porn Studios and ran into Valentino."

"What happened?"

"Well, Valentino offered me a job there—"

Vox slams the door open, his screen displaying a mess of static and a pair ominous, glowing red eyes. "Valentino did what."

Charlie jumps and Vaggie reflexively points her spear at him. "Dad! Uh, how much h did you hear?"

Vox takes a step forward. "I heard the part where you said Valentino offered you a job." His tone is deceptively calm. "Charlie, is that all that happened? Please don't lie."

Charlie averts her eyes guiltily and fiddles with the lapels of her blazer. But once Vaggie lays a comforting hand on her, she takes a deep breath and starts, "Well, I went there to find Angel and ran into him. We talked and then…he grabbed my arm and licked it."

Vox tilts his head curiously—a habit he picked up from Alastor. His screen flashes blood-red for a second. "He grabbed you…and licked your arm." He thinks for a moment before coming to a decision. "Alright then, I'll take care of it."

Charlie nervously watches him straighten up and head out of the room, electricity crackling with each step. "Dad, please be careful!"

Vox looks back at her, his screen fading from static to his usual face.

Charlie looks worried and Vaggie looks pensive. Neither of them look particularly excited about his vague statement.

He smiles reassuringly at the two girls. "I'll be fine, honey. Don't worry about it "

He leaves the room after that.

Alastor, he says through the radio waves. Al, there's something important we have to take care of.

What is it? Alastor replies.

Valentino hit on Charlie and offered her a job, Vox says, straight to the point.

Alastor falls silent in the other end for a moment before responding, I'll be there in five minutes. I need to grab a few things.

Vox smirks and sends out a feeling of appreciation through their connection before he turns into electricity and jumps into a nearby wire.

The world around him is filled with color rushing by and information invading his mind. Time simultaneously slows down and speeds up. Each action takes nanoseconds, reducing the time he needs to find what he's searching for.

With the Pride ring's technology in his grasp, Vox sees everything. He peers through every camera, looking for his business partner. If Valentino isn't spotted, Vox moves on.

Valentino is a slippery bastard, but he has some charm and a general aura that attracts demons whether they're aware of it or not. Vox isn't sure why it doesn't affect him, and if it weren't for Vox co-parenting Charlie with Alastor for years, he thinks he might have fallen for the moth's flirtations and propositions eventually.

The thought of that scares him. He knows what Valentino does to Angel Dust.

He and Alastor are trying to find a sponsored way to break the spider demon's contract with him. They're close now. They just need to find the physical contract.

Lost in his rage and thoughts, Vox nearly misses the bright red of Valentino's coat through one of the various screens in the Porn Studios.

He grits his teeth.

"Valentino."

Vox appears on the largest screen, his face back to the mess of pixels and static.

Valentino merely gives him an unimpressed glance. "What?"

"Did you offer the Princess a job?"

Valentino shrugs, walking up to the screen. "Of course I did. Even if she's a spineless little thing she's still royalty. Demons will pay big bucks for that. If it wasn't for her being Lucifer's daughter I might have snatched her up for myself."

Vox goes quiet. All the screens in the building freeze and black out, except for the one Vox is peering through.

Vox retreats into the data stream, and the screen flickers out.

The next moment, that same screen erupts with a surge of power and blasts Valentino point blank with a concentrated bolt of electricity.

Vox rematerializes in mid-air, grabbing onto Valentino's collar and, with the help of his initial momentum, sends him flying through the front of the studio and out onto the street.

Vox is alight with electricity as he steps towards the fallen moth. His voice starts to echo. "The one nonnegotiable term I had for our partnership was that involving the Princess in anything was off limits. I let you do as you pleased for a good portion of our time in the past because the benefits outweighed some of the costs, but you've crossed a line this time, Valentino."

Valentino spit out a mouthful of blood and sneered at him. "What the fuck? You know, I never understood why you put that clause there. Did you want her all for yourself? I don't mind sloppy seconds if that's true."

Vox fires another bolt at Valentino from his face, this one bigger than the last. Bundles of wires snake around him as parts of his screen shift and move to grow. The wires envelop him fully, and melt together as the mass grows before falling away to reveal Vox's full demon form: a large billboard screen held up by large metallic joints simmering with large sparks of electricity. A deep navy blue suit wraps around his figure, and a single hypnotizing eye amidst black static stares accusingly down at the other Overlord.

"I've tolerated your behavior for the past few decades Valentino. I'm at my limit now. Our partnership is over. You are not welcome here. Now get. Out."

FANFICTION ANON IS BACK AND THIS TIME ITS BADASS

The detail to which you describe things amazes me, it builds up just the right amount of angry tension

Post(s) this is referencing: 1, 2

Edit: fanfiction anon has blessed us with a full version on ao3

#ask #fanfiction #dadstaticradio au #staticradio #radiostatic #staticlovetune

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chronically-ghosted · 5 months

Note

I always thought the scene from Deadpool was hot where he and Vanessa are having hot sex mixed with food on Thanksgiving.

Maybe that with Joel or Javier P?

Ahhh, anon. this has been stewing in my brain since you sent it. And I know you said thanksgiving, but the line in this happened in, like, a single scene after the thanksgiving one! please forgive my timing!

kiss me ‘till I’m warm

rating: T

Pairing: jaiver peña x f!reader

word count: 1.6K

summary: a very drunk javi has something he wants to share with you.

warnings/tags: mentions of alcohol, drunkenness, one stupid joke, the absurdity of someone drunk off their ass trying to flirt, light kissing on body parts, references to smut, but ultimately this is fluffy as hell

a/n: wishing all of you a great start to your week as december plods along! shout out to the incredible @saradika for the divider!

🤍Masterlist

Javier Peña is a giggly drunk.

Not all the time, mind you, not always. Depends on the liquor, his mood, and what he’s had to eat that day – if anything at all. But given the right circumstances and the stars align, once in a blue moon, Javier blushes and giggles like a fourteen year old with a first crush.

Now, that might come as a surprise to anyone who has seen him lurking around the hallways of the American Embassy, scowling and smelling of stale cigarettes. The women he used to visit would swear up and down that Javier Peña was not a giggly drunk, having seen him knock back a drink or two, or three, or five. Certainly, all the narcos he’d rounded up and captured would be rather offended to hear that about the man who sent them to prison. It would shock them all to hear that, in the end, it was eggnog. Eggnog, the creamy, thick holiday drink that in terms of calories and sugar blew every other frappuccino out of the water – it was eggnog that turned Javier’s world upside down. From frown-set smokestack, to someone who wanders into his girlfriend’s bedroom after her office party and nearly blows his knee out on the bed frame.

“Javier, honey, are you okay?” You scramble towards where he tripped, expecting either blood or for him to be knocked on conscious. But instead, you just see fluff. White fluff. White fluff that proceeds red velvet, more fluff, and then thick dark hair.

Javier stands up, grinning from ear to ear. He stretches his arms wide, his white undershirt thin on his chest. He arches further, revealing a dusting of hair below the hem of his shirt that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. Well, when his pants are buttoned.

“Tada!” he beams. You roll your eyes and he giggles, following you on his hands and knees as you crawl back to your spot by the pillows. You had come in here to get some lotion for your hands and despite your insistence that he does not leave the couch, he stumbled in after you.

“Pero, mi amor,” he pouts when he sits on his knees behind you, “te fuiste.”

“You poor thing,” you frown at him over your shoulder as you rub the lotion into your hands, then your knees. His eyes bob between your tits through your sleep shirt and your circular motions over your skin. You narrow your eyes at him when his mouth goes slack and his eyes dark. “Oh, absolutely not, Javier. You are drunk as a skunk and about two minutes away from passing out.”

He rolls his eyes and leans forward, wobbling slightly as he crawls towards you. “Please?”

“No.”

“¿Por favor?”

“No!”

You frown, suspicious, when he chuckles as he loosely grabs you by the ankles, thumbs pressed in below the knot of bone. His shirt is loose enough you can see down the collar to his tanned chest. It’s not like the idea isn’t enticing, but you’d only seen him this drunk once before after the Christmas party at Steve and Connie’s two years ago. He made the same proposition back then and when he went to lie down on the floor to take his pants off, you looked over the bed to find him passed out, spread eagle and only his belt undone.

“Bien, bien,” he waves his hand in the air, the cotton ball of his Santa hat falling over his eyes, “pero tengo un chiste para ti.”

Another sign that Javier had reached the point of no return: he spoke much more in Spanish and the words blurred together, as if sticking on top of each other.

You eye him with faux annoyance when he uses your legs to pull himself in between your ankles. He kisses the tops of your knees, his palms warm beneath the weight of your calf muscles. Giddy and care-free until he wakes up with a pounding headache, drunk Javier is something you always cherished, because it is one of the few times he can be care-free. Relaxed. You are the only person he lets see him like this and you would protect that vulnerability with everything in your heart.

“Javier.” He hums, his teeth against your knee and dropping lower. His eyes are closed and his breathing’s changed. “I think you had something you wanted to tell me.”

He blinks, open mouth freezing on the bone of your calf. “Right. Yeah. Of course, mi vida.”

That heady, blurred look of desire on his face melts away almost as fast as it came on. He presses the arch of his nose against your other knee, giggling, as he readjusts his feet under him.

“Okay, okay,” he sniffs, sits up, and looks at you with bleary, water-y brown eyes. “Steve told it to me, so if you don’t think it’s funny, it’s his fault.”

You nod and then he taps the inside of your thigh with two fingers.

“If your left leg is Thanksgiving y tu pierna derecha es Navidad,” he outright gropes your other thigh, his slur worsening, mouth full of damp, gummy cotton balls. “Can I visit you entre días festivos?

Javier Peña raises a single eyebrow at you, as if he had been the first one to discover pick up lines, perfected the art of flirting, and discovered he had the ritz to seduce any woman in the world all in one night. His hands tighten in the meat of your inner thighs as he pushes them apart, his chest pressing forward, down, into you. With surprising dexterity and stability, he crawls between your open legs, hands firm as they plant on either side of your head. He’s still wearing that infuriatingly smug grin, his hips rolling forward until you feel the scrape of the teeth of his jeans on your thigh.

“What do you say, baby?” his teeth edge the rim of your ear, “¿p-p-puedo –,”

He full-on snorts in your ear, suddenly overcome with giggles and you jerk away. “Javi!”

You pinch his waist and he flops over on to the other side of the bed, his face turning red as he howls with laughter. His Santa hat pushed up over his forehead, the back of his hair sticking up from where he’s nestled against the pillows, Javier clutches his sides as he rolls back and forth.

You sit up, smiling, and watch the man you love enjoy himself for once. Sure, he could (and did, often) get lost in sex, but this is different. Your mother always said there was something healing about laughter, about feeling safe enough to close your eyes around another person, and Javier had spent far too long with his eyes wide open.

Tears are streaming down his cheeks by the time you pluck the Santa hat off his head and kiss his forehead. Giggles trickling down, he curls onto his side, his bare feet seemingly so large on your covers. You stroke his cheek, your thumb brushing the corner of his mustache, and the last giggle fades to a hum. He closes his eyes, cheeks pink, his head turning ever so slightly towards your touch.

“Do you need some water, baby?”

“Mhm hmm.”

Kissing him on his nose, you slide off the bed and go towards the kitchen. After filling up a glass from the filter, you turn off the lights, check the front door, and close the blinds. But when you come back to your bedroom, the golden light of your bedside lamp the only glow left in the entire apartment, you know instantly he’s already asleep. Javier lies still curled up on his side, his wide shoulders curled in, the white expanse of his t-shirt rising and falling with each breath.

You didn’t know him very well the first time you slept together, but the night he stayed over, all the way until the morning light broke through your shutters, you knew it had been an extraordinary step for him.

Now he sleeps in your bed, unguarded and unburdened, as much as he can.

You put the glass of water on his side of the bed and gently ease him onto his back. His arm slithers over his torso as his shoulder collides with the mattress, his matted hair where the hat sat in a line stiff against his forehead.

In his more morose moments, Javier announced he was getting old. His back hurt, his eyesight was shit, and he swears he spots more and more gray hairs in the mirror every day.

But, when he’s like this, when he’s Javi not Javier, when he’s just yours and no one else’s, he is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

A hand pressed to his warm chest, you lean forward and kiss his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” you whisper against his skin. He stirs, but doesn’t open his eyes.

Sliding your earrings out of their posts and into the little dish beside your bed, you glance at him one more time before turning off the light. The room is dark, warm, and in the emptiness you can hear him breathing.

The shape of him is more familiar to you than your own, able to trace his profile with nothing but memory, so without searching, as though reaching for a piece of yourself, you intertwine your hand with his.

His fingers twitch and the sound of his breathing slows.

In the absence of every other sense, you are overwhelmed by the weight of his palm in yours, the soothing rock of the rise and fall of his chest, your ears tuned to his every sigh, every noise –

In the absence of everything else, you listen to him inhale –

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

– and exhale.

#merry thanksgiving nonsense 2023 #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fluff #javi peña #javier pena #javier pena fanfiction

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xoxoskai · 8 months

Text

ELIAVA HEADCANNONS

May 2024 is too far, and the delusion preservation is imperative.

Eli listens to classical music just for Ava.

Ava sometimes sneaks into the library at the King's mansion just to swipe a book or two that she may have seen Eli reading. Other times, she bribes Creighton.

Eli is practically adopted by Silver the moment Elsa reveals his little crush (privately, of course) on her daughter. It does not stop Cole from throwing jabs at him whenever he comes over to hang out with Aunt Silver and to spy on his girl.

During their childhood, they've been locked together by their friends/siblings/cousins in the same room/closet plenty of times.

As a sign of rebellion against her parents, Ava once dyes her entire hair pink. The mortification hits her soon after and she refuses to talk to anyone until one text, one silent drive to the salon later she's sharing her snickers bar with Eli as a form of thanks.

Eli always leaves an anonymous bouquet of pink roses (her favorite) for Ava before her recitals in her dressing room. It's the only sign that he attends her recitals at all (Eli has attended every single one of them).

Whenever Eli goes AWOL, only Ava knows he's hiding in the library in a dark nook that has space behind the shelf just enough for two people. Sometimes, she joins him. Other times, she lays her head against his shoulder as he reads in the quiet.

All the teasing garnered from her friends due to Eli's attention suddenly stops one day. Becomes more...cautious.

Eli swears he had nothing to do with it and that he would never threaten them (he's lying, he nearly makes Remi cry).

Ava, like her mom, also writes journals where a lot of pages have Eli's name written, circled, crossed and scribbled out.

For prom, RES hosts a masquerade theme but every single boy in the school is terrified to ask Ava to prom. Glyndon decides to go without a date as well and Cecily flies in to join them. Both friends pretend not to notice Ava dancing with a masked stranger on the dancefloor at midnight.

Eli never stays longer than five minutes at any of Ava's birthdays/sometimes she never finds him at all, but she always finds his gifts in her room.

Ava has a jersey with Eli's number on it that Cole secretly swipes out of her closet to burn but gets caught by Silver.

Ariella is Eli's partner-in-crime.

After Eli leaves for University, Ava shows up at the King's mansion under the pretense of hanging out with Elsa but it's just to sneak into Eli's room and look at all his awards and trophies longingly she does not miss him.

When they finally start dating, they are met with long-suffering sighs, "finally"'s and "took you guys forever."

Ava drops little hints of herself wherever she can find a place for it. Scrunchie on his gearshift. Perfume bottle on his desk. "Accidental" kiss mark on his collar. Her ring on a chain around his neck.

Ava makes Eli watch all the chick-flicks she can because she's appalled when she finds out he hasn't watched Mean Girls.

"BOo, yoU wHoRE" - Remi says, sitting next to Cecy, Glyn, Annika and Ava wearing a facemask matching theirs.

The moment Cole opens the door to see his daughter and King's spawn standing together, hand-in-hand, the first thing he says is "No"

And it's final, too. No amount of convincing from both Silver and Ava seems to work.

When he finally comes around and they all sit down for dinner, they have a "Daddy, can you pass the salt?" moment after which Eli is chased out of the house by Cole and his gün.

Eli sneaks in thru the balcony into Ava's room anyway. Both Ariella and Silver know and choose not to tell Cole.

Eli's only saving grace with Cole is that Eli would kilI for his daughter or die trying and Cole wouldn't want any man willing to give anything lesser for his Ava.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Part two?

#eli king #ava nash #eliava #royaleliteseries #legacy of gods #cole nash #silver queens #ruthless empire #rina kent

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nicoline1998enilocin · 6 months

Text

Dancing in the street

Pairing | Steve Rogers x Civilian!Female!Reader

Word count | ~ 750 words

Summary Steve hasn't been himself lately, so he returns to his roots and goes to the part of New York he grew up in. As he's strolling around Brooklyn, he suddenly spots you dancing in the middle of a crosswalk, and he can't help but smile at your enthusiasm. When he gets pulled into a dance, he lets himself go and dances with the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

Warning(s) This occurs between Infinity War and Endgame but doesn't necessarily follow all canon events | Swearing.

Request @tittittoee | Hii!! Omg omg as soon as i saw this video I thought of Steve Rogers having a grumpy day and when he saw y/n dancing. He couldn't help but to let out a chuckle. (In the video when she turned to look at the other person while she pointed her hands at them) can it be y/n grabbing steve to dance with her. So they’ll just be dancing in the middle of the crosswalk 🥰

A/n I want to thank you for this sweet request! I enjoyed the video, and the idea is lovely because I always want to make a smile appear on his face 🥰 My requests are currently closed, and I will post the ones I already received over the next few weeks. Thank you to @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading this one! 🖤

Banners: @vase-of-lilies | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF credit to the owner

Main Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist | Read on AO3

It's been nearly two years since Thanos made the Snap happen, and half the popularity on Earth has vanished. Despite all his best efforts, Steve's still adjusting to this, but it's incredibly difficult without his best friend by his side.

Bucky vanished all that time ago, and Steve hasn't been the same. His only tether to the past he once knew and loved is gone, and he's been trying his hardest to adjust.

''He'll come back, don't worry!'' or ''He'll be back before you know it!'' were only a few of the things he heard almost daily, and he was getting sick of it by now.

And that's precisely why he stormed out of the Avengers Compound to make his way to Brooklyn. He needs to go back to where he grew up and where he met his best friend, back to his memories.

He took his motorcycle and drove off, not caring about the mess he left behind right now.

The wind blows through his long, golden locks as he makes his way to his old neighborhood, ready to get lost in his thoughts, all so he doesn't have to endure more pity from strangers, coworkers, or friends.

When he reaches his old neighborhood, he parks the motorcycle and takes the keys out of the ignition before taking in every building around him.

After a short walk of a few minutes, he arrives at the house he used to share with his Mom as he was growing up, and when he looks up at the windows, he feels a lump in his throat.

''I'm sorry, Mom. Sorry I couldn't be there for you before you passed,'' he whispers, wiping away a tear from his cheek, and he sits down on the stairs in front of the door, his elbows leaning on his knees.

His head hangs low, his hands constantly raking through his hair to calm his mind, but nothing seems to work. His mind is filled with pictures of his Mom, but also Bucky.

He still can't believe it's been nearly two years since his best friend vanished right before his eyes. It's been two years since he lost the last bit of hope he had. And it's been two years of a neverending battle.

''FUCK!'' he exclaims loudly, and a few people on the street look at him, but he doesn't care. The entire world could vanish for all he cares, with him included.

He stays on those steps for nearly an hour before he decides to go somewhere else because being here only makes him feel worse, and he wipes his tears away aggressively.

After picking himself back together, he makes the trip back to his motorcycle. He has to stop at a red light before a crosswalk, and that's where his attention is immediately drawn to you.

It is a beautiful day outside, and you take full advantage of it as you stroll through Brooklyn, getting to know the neighborhood you just moved into.

You were bouncing happily on the soles of your feet at the side of the road, and Steve couldn't help but smile at your enthusiasm. Seeing you like that somehow worked wonders for his mood as well.

As soon as the light turned green, you couldn't contain your excitement, and you danced onto the crosswalk and stretched your arms out at Steve, a stranger to you.

''Come on, dance with me!'' you exclaim happily, and Steve does, smiling from ear to ear at your happiness. He lifts your arm to let you twirl a few times before you pull him to the side of the road he just came from.

He didn't care, though, because he wanted to go wherever you were going, too. With a wink, you let go of his hands and turned around on your way to your destination, and Steve was left with a massive smile on his face.

All he could hope for was that he would see you again because seeing you made his day just a little brighter. Even if his best friend wasn't here, you managed to make him smile like an idiot, and he wasn't complaining for a single second.

Suddenly, it felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, and the drive back to the Compound wasn't so bad anymore. You showed him how you can make the best out of every day, even if it's just by dancing with strangers on a crosswalk.

And for that, he will never be able to repay you.

#steve rogers #steve rogers request #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff #captain america #captain america request #captain america one shot #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic #captain america x female reader #captain america x reader #captain america x y/n #captain america fluff

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mrsbarnesxxx · 3 months

Note

Hi, I saw you were after requests and thought I'd send one in! I have a few in mind but o won't overload you with them all haha. I'm going to leave one or two here for Eddie diaz.

Reader feels ill at work but brushed it off as a bug or something and eddie asks if she's okay. When they get back from a call she gets out of the truck and nearly falls on the ground in pain. Eddie catches her and helps put her on a gurney. After they get to hospital they find out she has appendicitis and they risk her to surgery. After she's back in a room eddie is there holding her hand and she wakes up and it's all fluffy and cute especially when he takes her home and takes care of her. Chris could also turn up with a handmade get well soon card

The other idea is eddie plans on proposing to reader and discusses it with the team but eventually gets chris involved and eddie ends up on one knee when they are at the station or just come back from a call or something? All fluffy and cute.

Thank you! Hope this wasn't too much!

A/n: Not me having to google appendicitis symptoms even though I literally had it last year...

I'm working on the second idea and will post it ~here~ when I'm done

Warnings: mentions of fainting, mentions of hospital and all that jazz, mentions of sickness, slight angst, love confessions, female reader, Christopher Diaz

You had woken up feeling awful. Your whole body hurt, your back, your side, your stomach. You had a 24-hour shift today and since they were always short-staffed, you couldn't call out. You pulled yourself out of bed, pain shooting through your stomach. As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you took two Tylenol and got dressed for work. Once you reached the fire station, you sat in your car for a minute, trying to ignore the sickly feeling spreading throughout your body. Eventually, you got out of your car and walked in, changing and heading out to greet your friends. "Morning, Hen." You fake a smile, walking over to the coffee pot before deciding better of it and putting your cup away. "You feeling okay?" She asks giving you a raised brow. "Yeah, just feeling a little queasy. I think I had bad Chinese food last night." You smile waving her concerned glance off.

The alarm goes off just as Chimney, Buck, and Eddie start to get breakfast. They all sigh before we head to the truck. We head off towards a call of a small apartment fire with minor burns. You hop out of the truck when we get to the scene, immediately feeling really dizzy and queasy. Apparently hiding it poorly due to your slight swaying back and forth, Eddie comes over to stead you. His hands coming to rest on your waist lightly. "Woah, you okay?" He asks searching your eyes. "I'm fine Eddie." You assure him with a smile. "I just got a little dizzy."

He watches you throughout the whole call as you bandage a woman's first-degree burn on her arm. He watches you cautiously as you climb back into the truck, opting to stand behind you in case you try to fall again. His eyes catch yours as the truck backs into the station. He watches you the whole time you're getting out of the truck. Even offering you his hand. "I told you, Eddie. I'm fi-AH!" You exclaim, clutching your side as a sharp pain shoots through your right side. Eddie closes the 2-foot distance between you in a second, holding you as you faint in his arms due to the pain.

"CAP!" He yells moving to carefully set you on the ground. "What happened?" Hen asks rushing in with Cap and the others behind her. "I don't know, she just collapsed." He explains checking your pulse. "She grabbed her side and then just passed out." "Which side?" Hen asks looking up at him with wide eyes. Realization comes across his face as he looks up at her "right." "Okay, let's get her to the hospital, she could have appendicitis," Hen says. "Buck, chim, get a gurney."

They put you onto a gurney and load you into the ambulance before rushing you to the hospital. Eddie gets there in 3 minutes instead of the normal 5 or more it would usually take them.

"27-year-old female collapsed after clutching her right side, possible appendicitis, complained of upset stomach, bp stable, tachycardic, fever of 100.7" Hen explains once they reach the emergency entrance.

"Her appendix probably ruptured, we're going to have to take her into surgery right now." The doctor says wheeling the gurney away.

Eddie just watches as they wheel your unconscious form away. "Hey, she'll be okay," Hen assures him softly. "Why don't you go wait for her?" "I can't I have work and then Christopher-" "We'll take care of everything. Go sit with your girl." Hen smiles putting a hand on his shoulder. Eddie gives her a puzzled look. She just laughs, "Please. You think we didn't notice the two of you giving each other googly eyes every day?" Eddie laughs, giving her a hug before heading inside. After about an hour, a doctor comes to the waiting room and finds Eddie.

"Excuse me, sir?" She says and Eddie snaps his head up. "Your friend is out of surgery. It went very well. Her appendix had burst, so we have her on antibiotics and will have to monitor her for a few days to make sure she doesn't develop an infection." "Can I see her?" He asks standing up. "Of course, I'll take you to her now." She smiles and leads him to your room. "She's still under anesthesia, so she'll probably be asleep and a bit groggy for a while, but you're welcome to sit with her." "Thank you." He says giving the doctor a small smile before walking to the chair next to your bed. "You scared me, Vida mía." He says taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it.

Eddie responds to the messages he has asking how you are. Telling everyone that you'll be okay. You start to shift suddenly causing him to stop the text he was writing to Buck and look up at you.

"Ow," is the first thing you say. Eddie smiles so big hearing your voice again. A part of him didn't know if he would ever hear your voice again. "What happened?" You ask seeing that you're in the hospital.

"Your appendix burst. They have you on antibiotics and you should be fine." He explains never letting go of your hand.

"I guess it wasn't the Chinese food." You groan dropping your head.

"No it wasn't." He says sadly. "I wish it had been."

"What are you doing here? What about work? What about Chris?" You ask suddenly.

"Relax," he says softly his thumb caressing the back of your hand. "you're going to hurt yourself if you keep worrying. Bobby understands, told me to stay with you. Chris is fine. He's at school and then Carla is going to get him. And I'm going to stay here with you."

"Okay." You smile looking over at him. "Eddie.." you whisper a minute later.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Come here." He stands up and walks closer to you, leaning down to be able to hear you. What he doesn't expect is for you to wrap a hand around the back of his neck and pull his lips to yours. Not that he's complaining. He's not at all. He's just shocked. He never would have expected you felt the same way.

"Thank you." You whisper after pulling away from his lips. "For staying with me."

"Always." He smiles.

"Y/n!" Christopher exclaims coming into your room. "Hey!" You exclaim sitting up to see him better but wincing in the process. "Careful." Eddie chastises you. You just glare at him before turning back to his son. "What are you doing here, buddy?" You ask as he reaches you. "I came to see you. The team and I made cards." He explains. "Yeah?" You ask and he holds up a stack of paper cards. You try not to laugh at the sass he inherited from his father. "Here, why don't you hop up here so you can show me?"

He does just that. Carefully maneuvering his way onto your hospital bed. He sits next to you and flips through each card. Finally you get to his, it's a card with a drawing of you on the front. You and him and Eddie. Your heart melts as the boy shows you this. He opens the card to reveal a message he wrote

Get well soon y/n. We miss you.

P.s. my dad is in love with you

You can't help but laugh at the message inside. "Thanks, Chris." You smile before looking over to Eddie. He has the biggest smile on his face watching you entertain his son. He doesn't think he could fall any more in love with you.

"You should be at home with Chris." You complain as Eddie helps you into your apartment. "Chris is fine. He's at home with Carla." He says unlocking your door and walking through the door. "I'm fine, Eddie. I can take care of myself." He only gives me his sassy look to which you roll your eyes. "You can't stand by yourself or walk up the stairs. How exactly do you plan to take care of yourself?" He asks. "I can take care of myself just fine, Diaz." You insist with sass of your own. "Just...let me take care of you, okay? You could have died." He sighs. "Okay." You smile as he helps you into your bed.

"Are you hungry?" He asks

"There's no way in hell I'm letting you cook for me Diaz. I'm not getting food poisoning." He just flares at you. "I'm fine, Eddie. Just...lay with me?"

"Whatever you want." He smiles climbing into bed next to you, wrapping an arm around you.

#mrsbarnesxx #eddie diaz x reader #Eddie Diaz fluff #christopher diaz #We love Christopher Diaz #Christopher Diaz is a national treasure

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dairy-farmer · 19 days

Note

Newly appointed Robin!Tim gets captured by Ivy during an Arkham breakout. Everyone else is busy so it's just him for now, and Ivy has always had a soft spot for the Robin's, so she isn't particularly cruel. It's easy to mess with them tho, what with their hormones being so out of wack with the onset of puberty

She doesn't realize this Robin has a pussy tho, not until after she's given him some mild sex pollen, just to make him squirm. Instead of a little hard-on like she expects tho, there's a little wet spot where his tiny baby pussy is absolutely soaking wet. She decides to take advantage of this opportunity for an experiment she's been working on: crossbreeding

She wants to see if she can breed more intelligent or healthy plants if they're birthed from a human womb. So she uses her vines to pull off Robin's pants and he's such a natural little slut, begging for more and to be fucked (which is funny bc she really didn't dose him with much. He's really a cockslut in the making) before his pants are even all the way off

But she obliges, and has her vines fuck his sweet baby pussy until he's drooling and nearly delirious with pleasure. Once he's cum for the fifth time, she brings in her ovipositor and has it quickly replace the vine that was steadily fucking him. Robin just things it's another vine ready to fuck him silly, but then the seeds start to slip inside and he cums to hard he passes out for a few moments. He thought the vines felt good? Well this is insane, better than he ever could have imagined!

Ivy was originally gonna do a small handful of fast growing seeds that would practically fall out a few minutes after being implanted, just to spare Robin that possible discomfort, but the little slut loves it so much that she changes her mind. The seeds are bigger, instead of the size of gumballs like she originally planned, they're the size of chicken eggs. Instead of five or six small seeds, she has Tim packed full until something on his suit snaps from the swelling of his belly

The boy is a drooling mess, and Ivy is excited for this next bit. Bc these plants need to be fertilized, so Robin is filled even further, with a sweet smelling, viscous liquid that bloats him even bigger. The small seeds she was going to give him in the beginning would have been in and out within 10 minutes. But these ones take about an hour to cook, and they grow as time passes. When it's time for him to give birth, the seeds are the size of a softball. His belly is big and fat and hanging, stuffed full of goop and seeds, and Tim is a horny mess. Everytime a seed is pushed out of him, he cums

His top is opened up when they realize he's lactating, and two vines with little mouths on the ends nurse from him (but something must be in that goo that filled Tim earlier bc he can already feel his tits refilling and swelling bigger and bigger as time goes by). Ivy is v pleased with how Robin does, bc by the end, he has delivered twenty new seeds

Even better (worse?), Robin is gone all weekend, stuck with Ivy and giving birth to her seeds like clockwork every hour. By the time someone finds him, he's given birth upwards of fifty times, and he's surrounded by a small mountain of slimey seeds

This weekend of being a breeding experiment for Ivy changes him tho, and Tim is an insatiable little slut, to the point where Batman has to make a deal with Ivy to take one of the plants with them to grow and care for with the sole purpose of fucking and filling Tim up. They're able to twist something's around tho and the seeds Tim delivers aren't evil or malevolent, so he spends most of his time strung up in the Cave and getting filled with seeds to his heart's content (after just a few weeks he has big heavy tits and a big belly that's soft and heavy even when he isn't pregnant). He's the absolute picture of maternity and depravity

😍😍😍😍 tim turned desperate to be a little breeder like its encoded in his dna 😍

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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sinofwriting · 1 year

Text

Sweet Nothing - Clay Spenser

Words: 4,912

Note(s): This is a long one that I honestly did not want to end. Also this is x reader but she goes by the nickname Mira. And anything in italics unless stated otherwise is them speaking Urdu. (Oh, and title is of course from a Taylor Swift song)

Tagging @nerdyreaderpapi who said they were really excited for this. Hope they and everyone else enjoys this.

Summary: Clay has a wife and no one believes him. He’s been a part of Bravo for eight months, the wife excuse is getting old, got old after the first month and yet he sticks to it, despite the fact that they never met her, don’t know her name, or seen a single picture of her.

Turning his phone on, a tired smile crosses his lips at the sight of his lockscreen and he can’t help the way his thumb caresses the screen as he mouths the words on it that he knows by heart, a yawn leaving him in the middle as he adjusts to being awake.

The always there ache in his heart, grows now that they’re so close to being home. And he has to resist rubbing at his chest. He didn’t need to catch Trent’s attention, the medic was like a mother hen to all of the team, but especially him since he was the youngest.

Unlocking his phone, he goes to his texts and scrolls through his missed texts, body relaxing into his hammock as he looks at the texts from his wife. Some just random tidbits of things she had to translate, or things she had to buy that they ran out of, things she made for dinner, how she forgot to pick her meds up but not to worry because she did end up getting them, just a week later than she should’ve and he can ignore the email from the pharmacy about it, and that yes Clay she knows she hopeless without him and she’s more than okay without.

He lets out a chuckle at one of her texts telling him that she wants a dog and he needs to stop dragging his feet about it.

“It’s been nearly a year, husband. The longer we go without any paws running about, the more I’ll want.”

He lifts his eyes from his phone, letting them drift around until they land on Brock who’s also laying in his hammock, though he’s more upright, Cerberus in between his legs.

“Hey, Brock.” “Hmm?” Clay doesn’t notice that the rest of the team have also turned their attention to Clay. It wasn’t often that the kid was talkative after missions, especially one like this one. “I’ve been meaning to get a dog, anything I should keep in mind with Cerb?” The dog lifts its head at his name, tail wagging as he looks at Clay. Brock runs a hand over the dog's head. “I’d say once they settle in, we introduce them, just in case.” “What kind of dog you getting?” Clay shrugs, “not too sure yet. It’ll be a puppy, that’s for sure.” His wife would have his head if they’re first pet together wasn’t a puppy. “Puppy? That’s a lot for our job.” “Yeah, who’s getting to watch it when we get spun out or are on deployment?” “My wife, who absolutely exists.” He throws up a middle finger at Sonny, already knowing what comment was going to leave the Texan’s mouth. He makes a noise and half hearted denial, but doesn’t say anything, jaw twitching as Clay tries to press that he had a wife on them again.

“She going to pick you up?” Clay’s eyebrow raises, and he pockets his phone as he feels a shift in the altitude. They’d be landing within the next thirty minutes. “I drove myself. So, no.” Ray makes a noise at that and he has to resist the urge to snap at him or one of the other guys who was staring at him.

“Join us for beers tomorrow?” Sonny asks, as they all step out and start heading to their cars. “We just spent nearly two weeks together, next time absolutely.” Sonny grunts. “Fine, but just remember what you're missing out on, GQ. I could get you a great girl.” “Married.” He shouts, as he rushes to his car. The door shuts before he can hear Sonny’s reply and with it comes a sigh of relief.

The drive home passes quickly and before he knows it, he’s in the driveway of his house. His wife’s car parked in its spot and the porch light on, with its automatic timer set to turn on at eighteen hundred and shut off at four hundred.

Clay feels the ache in his chest grow, being so close and yet still so far away. So, he doesn’t bother grabbing his go bag, even though everything needs to be washed, he just climbs out of the car, barely remembering to lock it and running up the steps to the front door.

Opening the door, he quickly steps into the house, kicking off his boots as he closes the door behind him.

“Baby?” He calls, anxiety and excitement warring inside of him. “Mira?” He uses the name that her parents started calling after learning that he and her grandmother had taken to calling her Miracle in Urdu. “I’m home.” He hears the sound of feet rounding the corner before a cry of his name greets him and he’s got an armful of his wife.

He holds her tight, lifting her off her feet, his hands moving down to her bottom to hold it as her legs wrap themselves around his waist.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He whispers into the skin of her neck, tears pricking at his eyes, as he takes in the feeling of home, the smell of it, of her. “Missed you too.” Her arms loosen from around his shoulders and she pulls back slightly, looking into his eyes as her hands come up to his face. She sighs, thumbs rubbing his cheekbones. “You got even more handsome. I think you can’t, then you leave me and somehow it happens.”

His cheeks turn pink at the compliment, the one she always gives him when he comes home to her. At one point he had denied it, thought she was just saying it, that she didn’t mean it, but with over a decade together, he knew that she meant it. It was clear in her face, the way her eyes were lit up in awe and they couldn’t stop looking at him. Clear in her body, how her breath still sped up, heart hammering in her chest.

Emotion bubbles up in him, how overwhelmingly he is in love with this woman and has been since they met, since he was fifteen. And he knows that if he speaks right now, he’ll stumble over his words, so instead he presses their lips together.

And the ache that had been plaguing him vanishes at the contact. At the soft lips pressed to his. Her hands slip from his face to his neck, her right pointer finger tracing the shell of his ear making him tighten his grip on her and press his tongue to the seam of her lips, gently touching them, before retreating. Even with the sigh into his mouth.

“Do you have anything cooking?” “No.” She breathes, “take me to bed, soldier.” He grins at the command, pressing their lips together, once than twice before starting the trip to their bedroom. “Yes, ma’am.”

—

“Stop looking at me like that.” She murmurs, eyes scanning the menu. “How am I looking at you?” She lifts her eyes off the menu, her husbands grinning face staring at her. “Like you won the lottery.” His grin grows wider, eyes alight with amusement. “Everyday with you is like winning the lottery, miracle.” She has to look away for a moment, lips pressing together to suppress a giggle. Fuck, her husband was a charmer.

Her eyes drift back towards the menu. Despite having dinner two hours earlier, she was hungry again, but not hungry enough to eat something all by herself, so it was a good thing she had Clay with her. She swore sometimes he had more than one stomach on him with the way he ate.

“Want to share a chicken strip basket with me?” “Sure. You want a beer?” He asks, looking out for a waitress. “Please, just whatever you get.”

Resting her chin on her hand, she watches as he orders for them. Seamlessly keeping the waitress's attention off her.

“It ran over. Complications?” She asks when the waitress leaves, curiosity pulling at her. He nods, “Intel was bad. HAVOC nearly blew a gasket.” “But, no injuries.” “No injuries.” The whole team had basically been glorified bodyguards for two weeks. “It was a milk run that went long. Only reason we were there for so long was because of the intel and having to get new contacts.” She hums, switching back to english. “This place seems nice.” She takes a glance around. “Only opened up a month or so ago. Kids aren’t allowed after eight.” “Yes, sir.” The waitress says, setting down two beers in front of them. “And the last family we had just left. So just a warning the music will be going up and our cook is only here until ten.” “Thank you.” She smiles at the waitress. “Of course. Let me know if you need a refill and your food should be out shortly.”

“She’s nice.” “Hasn’t worked long enough in food service.” Her eyes roll. “Says the man who's never worked in food service.” “But you did. Worst six months of our marriage.” Her mouth falls open, “you were deployed for all of it.” He shrugs, “you were miserable working at the place. Me not being there just made that worse.” “Such a softy.” Clay smiles, tangling their fingers together on top of the table. “Only for you, my miracle.”

They're halfway through their beers when the music gets turned up and their basket of chicken strips arrive. Grabbing one, she hisses at how hot it is immediately dropping it back down. She shakes her hand out, rubbing the pads of fingers together.

“Cut it?” “Please.” He doesn’t say anything, sending her a fond look before grabbing the fork and knife that had been resting on the table and cutting the chicken up.

Nearly an hour later and on her third beer and last one, since Clay was also stopping at three since he was driving, the door opening to the bar and raucous noise catches her attention.

Turning her head, she eyes the group of six men and two women, military she noted by some of their stances and they way all the men seemed to be surveying the building. It’s then that her eyes focus on their faces and her eyes widen, recognizing some of them.

“Clay,” she kicks his shin lightly. She hears his sharp intake of breath and she blindly reaches for his hand, squeezing it tight. Her heart thuds painfully in her chest when he grasps it tight, clinging to it. “Do you want to leave?” “No.” “Are you sure?” “It's your choice.” She takes her eyes off his team, going to protest, but he stops her. “No, it’s your choice. I know you don’t particularly like them.” His face twists at that, because that was a light way of putting it.

His wife nearly despised them for judging him just because he had the last name Spenser. Add on Sonny’s treatment those first few missions and how Jason treated him after that first time he worked with Bravo. He was surprised that she hadn’t stormed onto base using her clearance to give the Master Chief a piece of her mind. It wouldn’t shock him if them meeting eventually resulted in that happening. She wasn’t one to hold back, not when it concerned him.

She eyes her husband, remembering how he had come home practically collapsing in her arms because of Bravo, because he had the last name Spenser and more stupid military men weren’t willing to not judge a book by its cover. Remembering their refusal to believe that he was married, all because he won’t introduce them or talk about her, because he was a kid, despite being twenty-seven. But she also remembers the light in his eyes as he talks about Cerb, Trent’s mother henning, Ray’s quiet accompaniment to the range. He’s been with them for nearly a year and she knows that they’ve become like family to them, so close to being brothers in not just name but also bond. And she knows that the only thing that is stopping him from letting them in and really see who he is behind that cocky façade is her. And she can’t deny him family, more people to love him, so she squeezes his hand again.

“Let’s stay.” “Really?” She nods. “They’re your brothers, honey. I can’t deny you people that love you, just because of my misgivings.” He looks at her in awe, blue eyes shining. “I don’t deserve you, not one bit.” He sounds reverent and before she can deny it, protest, he’s leaning across the table, crushing their lips together in a passionate kiss.

A loud whistle breaks them apart and he’s still looking at her in absolute awe. “You, Mrs. Spenser, are going to be spoiled so much later.” She swallows harshly, thighs pressing together at the promise. “And I can’t wait, husband.” His eyes flash but the sound of a chair being pulled out stops him from kissing her again.

“I’m going to take these up and get something else to drink. You want anything?” She asks, grabbing their beer bottles. “Water, please.” She nods, flashing him a smile before standing and heading to the bar, a slight limp in her gait.

He watches her, heat simmering inside of him.

Clay looks away when someone sits across from him, knocking their feet together,

“Would ya look at that, GQ. Said you didn’t want to come out drinking with us and we still ended up at the same place.” The Texan accent makes him sigh. “Sonny. First stop of the night?” “Yeah, even managed to get Blackburn to join us.” Clay spots the rest of the group in the corner where there’s pool tables, brows going up seeing Naima standing next to Lisa. He had forgotten that her parents were in town this week. “Naima eat?” “You think Ray would’ve let her out of the house to drink without food in her stomach?” “I don’t think Ray tells her to do anything.” Sonny laughs, “right you are, brother. Last time Ray tried to tell her to do something,” he whistles. “I don’t think I’ve seen a man regret something so much.” He chuckles, he hadn’t been part of the team for that but he could imagine it. “Lisa text you, we were coming here? Decide to join us anyways?” “No, I actually,” he begins before he can continue, two glasses are being put on the table and a familiar weight is settling on his leg that’s planted outside the booth.

“Next time we should Uber, they’ve got some interesting cocktails.” She tells him, before turning her head to look at the stunned Seal sitting across from them. “Hi, I hope I wasn’t interrupting.” Clay has to press his face against her back to hide his smile. She knew damn well what she was doing and he couldn’t love her more for it. “No, ma’am. You known Clay long?” His eyes flicker between the two. She lets out a laugh, just a little off from her normal one. “Long enough.” He squeezes her waist and she relaxes a little back into him. “Well, my name's Sonny Quinn, I work with Clay since he ain’t got the manners to introduce us.” She extends her hand, giving the Texan’s a quick shake before giving her name and they both watch as his jaw drops and his eyes widen. “But please, call me Mira. Everyone does.”

“Spenser?” He repeats, barely hearing her request. “Yes, sir. And proud.” She lifts her left hand and gives it a small shake where both his grandmother’s wedding band sits and her grandmother's wedding ring. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you” He manages to say after a few seconds. “Mira, I don’t think you’ve met the rest of the team, but if you’d like you could join us. We're just playing some pool and drinking.”

“Join?” The french makes him blink, but he nods. “Sure.” “We’d love to.” He blinks at the language change, but nods, standing. “Alright, then. Can I get you anything to drink?” His eyes flicker to Clay, expecting to see some sort of scowl on the younger man’s face at his offer but the kid just looks amused and tension he didn’t know he was holding, vanishes. “I’m alright. I just got us some water.” She tells him, standing, grabbing one of the waters from the table.

Nodding, he watches as Clay also stands, doing the same as her, his arm looping around his wife’s waist, lips brushing her temple. They make an interesting picture, a pretty one. Cause of course Clay would have a wife even prettier than he was.

Leading them over to the corner that Bravo had commandeered, Jason spots them first, smiling at him, before a brief look of concern takes over at his wide eyes. And a quick nudge to Ray’s ribs from Jason gets everyone else's attention.

“Ladies,” he nods to Lisa and Naima, “gents. Look who I ran into?” He steps aside letting them more easily see Clay, who’s setting their waters down on a high table they took over. “Hey!” A few say at the time, catching other people's attention for a moment. “What are you doing here?” Lisa asks, smiling at the youngest member of Bravo. He tilts his head to the left, gesturing, “date night. Went to dinner then ended up here. Would’ve gone somewhere else if I knew who we’d run into.” He grins, catching the elbow his wife starts to throw before it can make contact. “You love us.” She teases and Clay rolls his eyes but the soft line of his shoulders and grin betrays him. “And who is this?” She looks at the woman next to Clay offering her smile. She smiles at the woman who Clay talks about fondly, always having their back in HAVOC, “I’m Mira, Clay’s wife.” Her smile doesn’t flicker at the sharp intakes of breaths her introduction causes. “You must be Lisa, Clay talks about you often. He talks about all of you often.” She looks at the rest of them. Naima hits Ray’s chest. “I had no idea that Clay was married.”

She quickly shakes the younger girl's hand. “I’m Naima, Ray’s wife. If Ray had something sooner, we could have set up something sooner. All of us wives and girlfriends have a groupchat. I know how difficult it can be.” “Thank you. We’ll have to exchange numbers. You have two kids right? Jameelah and RJ?” “We do.” Her smile widens at Mira remembering her kids names just from hearing Clay talk about them. “Clay mentioned them. He’s never been uncle Clay before. Came home all lit up.” He nudges her slightly. “They meet you and you’ll be Auntie.” “Damn straight, I married you for the benefits, honey.” “And my body.” He grins down at her, holding her tighter against him. She pats his chest. “And your body.”

Naima awes a bit at the young couple. She remembered when her and Ray were first together, they had also been stuck together at the hip. Now with being together for so long and two kids, there wasn’t a lot of being stuck at the hip.

“How long have you two been together? Or married?” She asks, curious. They seemed like newlyweds, just a couple of months under their belt, still firmly in the honeymoon phase. “Been together for twelve years, married for eight.” Clay tells everyone, a proud look in his eyes. “Seven, honey. We got engaged eight years ago.” She corrects, watching the shocked faces of his team. He scowls at the reminder of the near year of waiting he had before they finally could get married. “Worst year of my life.” “It wasn’t even a year!” “It was nearly a year.”

“Now, why do I feel like there’s a story there?” One of the guys says, recovering first. “Trent,” he offers his name, just in case. “That would be because there is.” She pats Clay’s hand. “Clay and I got together when we were fifteen, but there’s nearly a year between us. So, Clay turns eighteen, proposes, is already to go to the courthouse and be married and I had to remind him that we had to wait a good eight months to get married since I was still seventeen.”

“The wait was horrible.” He groans. Mira laughs, “what wait? The only thing that changed was my last name and us getting a piece of paper. Nothing else changed.” “Sex.” Sonny chokes on his beer. “We had sex before.” Lisa lets out a laugh at the exasperated look on her face, she already liked this girl. “Yeah, but it wasn’t married sex.” “Oh my god.” She rolls her eyes, not needing to look at him to know he was grinning, chest puffed out a bit.

She looks at the other women in the group, “Please save me from him.” Naima laughs at the girl, but steps over to the booth where Brock is sitting and motions for her to join. “Sit with me and Brock. I want to know all about you.”

She feels Clay squeeze her hip and brush his lips across her temple before letting her go. She sends him a smile before joining the older woman at the booth, sliding in on the same side that Naima’s sitting on.

“Nice to meet you, Brock.” She greets the man. “You too.”

Clay watches as Naima and Mira start to talk, Brock paying rapid attention if the way his body language is anything to go by.

“So, Bam Bam does have a wife.” He scowls at the Texan, “Told you I did.” “Still. Can see why you kept her away. She’s so far out of your league.” Sonny laughs, sending Clay a wink as he dodges an elbow from Lisa. He looks back at Mira, who’s laughing. “Damn right.”

He felt lucky most days that she even took a glance at him.

“Why did it take so long for us to meet her?” Jason asks. “Does she not like the job? Cause problems at home?” Clay scoffs, “god, no.” It wasn’t that they hadn’t had problems, they’d been together for over a decade they had them, but the idea of his job causing some was laughable. “She encouraged me to enlist, wouldn’t have made it as far without her. And she understands the job.” Something in his tone sets Jason on edge, “Not too much, I hope.” “Spenser,” Eric starts, realizing where Jason’s head went and it’s clear Ray did too by the way he sets his pool cue down. He sticks his chin out, shaking his head. “She’s a linguist.” He gets blank looks. “She knows as many languages as me, more. She’s been a consultant for the CIA since we were twenty. She’s got higher clearance than me.” Sonny whistles, “she’s really out of your league.” He grins at him.

“So, what was the problem?” Jason asks and god was he like a dog with a bone. He could tell there was a reason and all of them knew he wouldn’t stop until he knew why. Clay sighs, sending a look over to Mira, who sensing it, looks back at him and sends him a smile and nod. “I talk shop with her.” Jason sends him a disapproving look, but he ignores it. He liked Jason, but he wasn’t about to take relationship advice from the older man. “So, if I’ve had a bad day or something went wrong I talk about it.” “I don’t get it.” Lisa whacks the Texan on his arm, understanding why Clay hadn’t introduced her or even talked about her. He sighs, “she doesn’t like you,” he looks at Sonny. “Or you.” he looks at Jason. “What? For what reason?” Trent and Ray let out laughs at Sonny’s confusion. They could take a good guess for why she didn’t like either Sonny or Jason and they couldn’t say they blamed her. “She doesn’t have much tolerance for anyone who sees the last name Spenser and immediately assumes I’m like my father.” Jason winces at the statement and reminder of what he had first thought of Clay and how he treated him because of it. Yeah, he could see the reason for dislike. “Shit, Bam Bam. I fucked that one, huh?”

Clay smiles at the older man, “give her a year, maybe two. You’ll get off her shitlist.” “And me?” Jason asks, noticing that his eyes hadn’t drifted over to him. He winces, “that’s a bit more complicated.” Ray lets out a laugh at Jason’s face, slapping him on the back. “I told you that one of these days your big mouth and unwillingness to let things go would bite you in the ass.”

“He did not, Mira!” Naima’s scandalized voice rings out and makes them all turn their heads to look over at the booth where her, Mira, and Brock were sitting. She lets out a laugh, people’s reactions to how exactly Clay proposed never ceased to make her laugh. “He absolutely did.” Naima’s scandalized expression vanishes and her jaw locks as she ushers the younger out of the booth, turning her attention to the man they had just been talking about. “Clay Spenser!” His eyes widen at his name being said like that and he sends a look to Ray, but the 2IC just shakes his head. He was on his own with this one. “I can not believe you! Proposing like that!” She stands with her hands on her hips, lips pressed together in a frown. He relaxes at that. He knew how he proposed wasn’t normal and had pointedly not mentioned how he had to her parents or his grandparents knowing he’d got smacked upside the head. “Naima, I was eighteen.” He pleads, putting his hands up in surrender, sending a look to Mira who’s giggling. “Really, it’s funny more than anything.” “Oh, I’ve got to know this.” Sonny mutters under his breath. There would never be enough material to tease Clay with. And something from his relationship, well that was even juicer.

“How exactly did Clay propose?” Lisa asks, wondering what had the normally chill woman up in arms. “Well, honey, should I tell them or do you want to?” She asks, teasingly as she walks over to him. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her closer. “You can, miracle. Already told it once today, what’s two times?” She nods, wrapping an arm around him as well. Might as well get as comfy as she could with all the eyes on her.

“Well, you already know that Clay was very eager to get married.” “Be a fool not to.” He mutters, interrupting her which she ignores but Trent snorts hearing the mutter. “But he was really eager. My parents and his grandparents were missionaries, so they kept odd hours, were really only home to sleep and even then sometimes depending on how bad the area they were at was they sometimes would sleep there. Which meant we had a lot of time to ourselves.” The guys all grin at that, knowing exactly what that meant. “And with our luck, the week that Clay turned eighteen, they were away helping a village six hours away that experienced a horrible fire.” That earns a few frowns, but everyone is still listening intently to her.

“So, when it rolled over to midnight, I woke him up to wish him a happy eighteenth and to have birthday sex.” She earns a few laughs at how unashamed she is and she smiles at the sound. She could blame it on being a horny teenager but she still wanted to climb Clay like a tree as much if not more than when they were teens. “In the middle of said birthday sex, he just asks me to marry him. Tells me that one of the guys in the village we were in owes him a favor and we could take his truck to get married as soon as the sun was up.” “You didn’t?” Clay shrugs at the disappointed look from Jason. “I’d been thinking about it for months, it slipped out.” He defends. “It was sweet.” Mira also defends him. “Even if my response put a damper on things.” He winces at that, because yeah, he hadn’t reacted the best to hearing the word can’t right after he had proposed and then forced onto his back so she could ride him. It was one of the few times that he had stopped in the middle of sex for a reason that wasn’t cramping or someone knocking on the door. “And what was your response?”

“Can’t, just the word can’t.” She gives Clay a sorry smile. “Even in the middle of sex the logical side of my brain was working.” “Sounds like someone wasn’t doing a good job.” Sonny jokes. “Nah, I was thinking of a way to flip him on his back right before he started talking.” Sonny lets out a loud laugh at that and the way it makes Jason slightly bug eyed. “I definitely like you, Mrs. GQ.” “Can I be Mrs. Bam Bam instead?” She asks, grinning. “Rolls off the tongue better.” “You can have whatever nickname you want, Mrs. Bam Bam.” The Texan tells her, a bit more southern drawl in his voice as he gives her a wink.

#clay spenser x reader #clay spenser imagine #seal team imagine #seal team x reader

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cookieswithay · 7 months

Text

"The happy feelings club!"

🧡Ichigo x Orihime🧡 Ichihime fic

💝Episode 1: The gingers meet!

°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•

• Ichigo's pov!

• "Don't let it happen again, Kurosaki."

• "Yeah, yeah. It won't."

• Once again, I'm leaving the principal's office. But at least I got sent for actual reason this time.

• Hi there, I'm Ichigo Kurosaki. Near straight A student. I got 2 sisters and 1 insane dad. And I'm a natural carrot top. You'd think with my high grades and all, teachers wouldn't pay me any mind. But no. I'm on everyone's radar. The color orange means trouble. Everyone picks a fight. But, I know how to win this messed up game...most of the time.

• "Did you hear? That guy punched someone."

• "No way, that's horrible."

• "Whispers" aren't anything new, but this rumor has truth in it. (Although those girls could at least TRY to be quiet) The "guy" I punched, was some loser who thought he could get handsy with the girls in my class. I don't know them very well, but I'm not a fan of hearing my classmates scream. So I took care of him. Nice and quick.

• (Tatsuki wanted to kill him, so I just took the fall.)

• "Oh no,"

• One of the girls griped.

• "Here comes that orange haired girl again."

• Orange haired girl? This cruddy school has one? Since when? I turned around and sure enough, there's a carrot top! She's running down the hall...towards me. I...should run, but... My feet feel stuck to the ground. She screeches to a halt and fell to her knees panting. So...she shouldn't of ran that fast. A few minutes passed and she's still wheezing. Damn, is she okay?

• "Um, are you okay?"

🧡

• Orihime's pov

• My lungs...are burning! But...I wanna...pass...these out! My name is Orihime Inoue! I have a busy older brother and I'm new to this school! I also like "weird combinations" of food. (Sweet treats ramen is so tasty!) And last but not least, I'm in charge of the happy feelings club! A blissful hour of doing your favorite things at school! All I need to do is get 3 more members and we can stay afloat. Hence my constant flyer passing! Like right now. But, I REALLY need to...catch...my breath. This tall guy...looks real nice.

• "Should I get the nurse...?"

• (Ichigo said that) Ah! Not the nurse again! I'll get scolded! I shot up. And I was face to face with a...with a...super cute boy. His hair is orange too...And...he probably has girlfriend! Don't wanna get my hopes up for nothing! I scrambled to my feet. I'm not dirty, am I?

• "Hi!"

• I said, flashing my persuasion smile. (It always works!)

• "I'm Orihime Inoue and I run the happy feelings club!"

• The cutie noodle looked confused. But, that's okay. It's a new club, so of course he never heard of it. This is what flyers are for! I pulled one from my backpack.

• "The details are on here."

• I gave it to him, nearly touching his long fingers. He's reading in his head. ...Why am I so NERVOUS!? He's reading the flyer! Not looking at me! Should I run!? Hide? Pass out!?

• "Ah-em."

• Huh?

• "Yes?"

• Did I say that too fast? He had on a half smile.

• "The meetings are after-school on fridays and wednesdays, right?"

• I nodded. My favorite days of the week.

• "Good, I'll be there."

• Oh..my...gosh! A new member! After two weeks of demanding nicely, someone finally joined-

🧡

• Ichigo's pov

• Out of nowhere, Orihime fell into my chest. It hurt but...some softer things touched me too. ...Holy crap! What do I do? Move her? Ask if she's okay? What am I saying, of course I check if she's alright! ...Um. Where to tap? I don't wanna make her uncomfortable or anything. Suddenly, she popped up and...looks raring to go like she didn't just fall? What is this girl?

• I was gonna actually ask that, but someone caught my eye. It was that one black haired chick with the fuchsia eyes. She's snickering with her tomboy friend. (Menoly, she goes to Tatsuki's boxing class.) Why...is that ticking me off? ...Whatever, whatever. Back to Orihime.

• "Orihime-"

• I paused. She looked...hateful and she was gripping her hair. And that's kinda hot. Not angry, but not fully sad either. But, what's the hair clutching about. ...I get it! Those two owe her money. Of course. I would be furrowing my brow too if I was in this situation. Man, people are so cheap nowadays.

• "Ah-em."

• I looked down straight into Orihime's big brown eyes. Shit, she's pretty. She looked down at a hip and back up at me. Ah! I haven't let her go! I stumbled back, muttering a apology. Damn, I'm bad at this.

• "So, I'll see you after school?"

• I said somewhat cooly. She nodded, with the biggest smile on her face. I couldn't help but laugh. Seriously, what is this girl? I just felt like ass a minute ago and now I feel like I won the lottery.

• Rinnnnng!

• That's the bell. Here dies my good mood. I looked back at Orihime.

• "Um, bye."

• I couldn't of said anything smoother than that!?

• "Bye!"

• "See you after school!"

• I waved and watched her skip off to whatever class she's in. Huh, I'm actually looking forward to the club thing.

🧡

• A few hours later

🧡

• Orihime's pov

• "So, tell me more about this hunk you met."

• Um...I did, did I say hunk? He's just really, really handsome is all. I pulled some games out of the cabinet.

• "He was really just nice, Rangiku."

• (Rangiku is one of my favorite upper classmen. She's nice and taught me how to get on Mr. Hitsugaya's good side! He gives out snacks! And she has a thing for Sora. She said she's gonna get serious soon.)

• "Men are nice,"

• She said, leaning on the table.

• "But they all have little quirks and one of your mystery man's caught your eye."

• She...got me there. I really like his hair...and his face. Plus his voice too. She opened her arms up.

• "Come here, tell me all about it."

• I sighed and laid in her squishy embrace. This is probably my favorite thing about Rangiku. She so soft! I could almost...fall asleep on her... Suddenly, I felt hands on my sides. Oh no. She's gonna tickle me again!

• "Don't fall asleep on me now, Orihime~!"

• "I wanna hear all about your little crush."

• Eeeek! I don't wanna pee! Again.

• "Rangiku, stop it!"

• I said through laughs. My uniforms gonna get all crinkly! I tried to push her away, but she laid me on the table!

• "Wow, your skin is so smooth. What lotion do you use?"

• The answer is Cloudy delight moisturizer, but I can't breathe from too much laughter! Suddenly, she stops. Thank goodness. My bladder couldn't take too much more.

• "Oh shit..."

• She mumbled. Wait? What's wrong? I grabbed onto Rangiku's arm, pulling myself up. Is it a teacher? It was just tickling-

• It's the cute guy from earlier in the door way.

• (And two guys I ran into at lunch.)

🧡

• Ichigo's pov

• I'm sure my face is beet red. But, I mean, come on! It's my first seeing two girls ontop of one another. (I'm not a adult film kinda guy) My hand shook on the doorknob.

• "Um...is this a bad time-"

• Suddenly, Keigo's hand was on my mouth.

• "Shut up, Ichigo! This is a once in a lifetime moment!"

• "Don't mess this up!"

• He shouted, while yanking me down. What the f-!? Mizuro put his hand over my mouth too.

• "Please ladies, continue,"

• "We don't mind."

• The older girl snickered.

• "Well, I guess we could do a little a something."

• She said, while tugging on her shirt. Orihime squeaked from under her. She looked just as embarrassed as me. That's it. This ends now. I bit down on one of Keigo's finger.

• "Ouch!"

• I shot up.

• "Knock it off!"

• I snapped. Man, this is a bad look for me. I'm flushed. Probably sweating now. And I had yet another "loud outburst". (Counseling stuff, don't ask.) Orihime's gonna think I'm crazy. The blonde burst into laughter.

• "Easy, easy, kiddo,"

• She crawled off the table. And Orihime.

• "I already have a guy I'm into, so calm down."

• She must a upperclassmen. No one my age would talk down to me like that. She strolled over, sizing me up. ...What's happening right now? She reached out and...patted my head?

• "No wonder a certain somebody likes you!"

• "You're adorable."

• What the- I am not adorable. I pushed her hand away.

• "Who're you anyway?"

• Yeah, I'm done being polite.

🧡

• Orihime's pov

• "I'm Rangiku Matsumoto. The prettiest 3rd year."

• As she introduced herself, I sat up and fixed my clothes. (My underwear wasn't out, was it!?) That was embarrassing. Hopefully mr. unknown doesn't think I'm in love with Rangiku or something. Or a creepy pervert. I'm being crazy. If he ask, I'll explain. Easy peasy.

• "Okay, okay, I'm sorry for intruding,"

• I turned around. She's gonna leave!?

• "You two have fun,"

• Fun? (Why'd she say it like that!?)

• "And you two are gonna clean up with me!"

• The brown haired guy looked horrified.

• "You're a total hottie, but-"

• Rangiku snatched him by collar and pulled threw the door. He was screaming alot. (The other guy followed with no complaints.)

• "Bye bye, you too~!"

• She shut the door, leaving us in quietness.

• "I'm sorry about my friends."

• ...He's apologizing too?

• "No, no, it's my fault!"

• "Rangiku probably freaked you out."

• He turned red and shook his head.

• "It's fine, really."

• I nodded. And hello the crushing quietness. I looked around. What could we do? What's screams 'welcome new member'? Bingo! I grabbed the kitty notebooks.

• "Wanna draw cats with me?"

• He looked surprised, but smiled.

• "Why not?"

• Alright! Perfect time for my new scented markers! (Hopefully, they actually smell like their names.) I spread them out on the table and passed him a notebook. This is gonna be great! I'm great at drawing kitties!

🧡

• Ichigo's pov

• This takes me back. The markers. Cats. And the breeze outside. When I was younger and my sisters were like 4, my old man went out. (I dunno if it was shopping or doctor stuff.) But, he was taking awhile, so that freaked them out. And I remember pulling out my school books and markers. We drew for what felt hours. Needless to say, we had alot to show to dad. Heh, feels like forever ago. Although, I'm not any better at it. They still look like malnourished stick cats. Poor things.

• I looked over at Orihime. She was laser focused. I wanted to peek at her drawing but...I got lost. The afternoon sun made her look great. Ah, what am I doing!? I'm s'posed to be drawing right now. Suddenly, she shot up. I flinched. (Did she notice me?) She turned to me.

• "Do you hear that?"

• "Hear what?"

• I said way too casually.

• "Just listen."

• She whispered. So I did. ...What're we listening in for?

• Mew.

• Orihime grabbed my face and pointed towards the window.

• "It's there!"

• I pried her hands off and walked towards the window. What the- It's a frickin cat in the tree. (Cliché much?)

• But, how'd it get up HERE of all places? We're on the third floor!? Orihime popped out from under my arm.

• "I think I can grab it from here."

• What!? She tugged me back and lifted her leg on the windowsill. Hiking her skirt up with it. Oh hell no. I gripped her waist.

• "Orihime!"

• She turned around, looking genuinely confused. I snatched my hands back.

• "Lemme get the cat."

• Good excuse!

• "I'm taller."

• She nodded, and got back in. We swapped places.

🧡

• Orihime's pov

• "Let's make a plan."

• The mysterious prince said. He turned around, towering over me. Oh my...

• "I'll get the cat and you grab a teacher, okay?"

• "Okay!"

• I can do that!

• (I needed to give Mr. Kyõraku a assignment anyway)

• He smiled and stretched his long legs out the window. That's my cue to run like a track star!

• "Good luck!"

• I shouted and ran out the room. Just like earlier, I'm running down the hall. I'm hearing alot of not nice comments as I do, but I can't stop now. For the kitten's sake!

• A little more running later...

• "Mr. Shunsui!"

• He jumped and sat up straight. I slammed my hands on his desk.

• "I found a...a cat...I need...we..."

• I gotta...catch my breath! Just all the other times, I come in here, he chuckled.

• "Slow down, miss Inoue."

• He patted my head. (I'm kinda wheezing on his desk.)

• "I'm not going anywhere."

�� My lungs are on FIRE, but...that guy probably has the cat already. And it could be hungry. I took a breath.

• "Me and this guy found a cat in a tree!"

• "A cat?"

• I nodded quickly.

• "On the 3rd floor too!"

• Mr. Shunsui stood and tugged his hair.

• "Oh boy."

• "Let's go find the kitty."

🧡

• Ichigo's pov

• This cat is putting up a fight. I know it's scared and all, but I seriously not being threatening. I'm even smiling! (That's what's scaring it, my guy) And what's really irritating is, I almost got it. I can literally poke it with my finger. But, I'm almost out the window. If I loose my footing, I'm dead.

• "Come here..."

• The cat meowed and hugged the branch tighter. Dammit...I got it! It's afraid to fall! Just like me. I can do this. I saved one of Karin's friend before. Still shaking like crazy, I lowered my hands.

• "Fall right here,"

• I said, in my softest voice.

• "You're gonna be okay..."

• Slowly, the cat began to relax. (Although It looked at me with a oddly expressive face as like it was trying to call bull shit.) After a little time, it fell into my hands. It's a tad heavy, but it's nothing I can't handle.

• Suddenly, my foot slipped.

• Am I falling out the window!?

• Yes I am.

• Everything moved extremely fast. I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die-!

• "Ichigo!"

• My leg was caught. I looked up.

• "Orihime?"

• (She knows my name?😳) She smiled.

• "You're gonna be okay!"

• A much bigger hand grabbed my other leg. I shivered. Which teacher did she bring!?

• "I gotcha kid."

• Ohh, it's Mr. Shunsui. (Glad she didn't get crazy Coach Zaraki)

• After a little pulling and touching places, I hoped no man would. I was back inside.

• But, without the cat. When did I drop it!

🧡

• Orihime's pov

• "Ichigo, what's wrong-"

• The cat.

• "Eeek! Where's the cat!?"

• We both pushed Mr. Shunsui out of the way and looked out the window. Where is it!? Where is it!? (I hope I'm not saying this outloud.)

• "There it is!"

• Ichigo shouted, pointing down. I hopped on his arm, getting a closer look. Down below, I saw a dark skinned guy with wavy hair. He had the kitty in his hands. (The poor thing was trembling) Have I met him before? He looked up at us.

• "Is this yours?"

• He called up. I shook my head.

• "I wish, but he's a stray we found in the tree!"

• I shouted back. I'm sure I know who he is. Mr. Shunsui scooted me over.

• "Son, could you be a dear and bring that cat up here?"

• He nodded and walked off. So did my teacher. I looked over at Ichigo. He was panting and sweating He looked my way and raised his hand.

• "Good job, we saved a cat."

• Oh, we're gonna high five. I only put my hand on his. I'm too tired to actually slap it.

• "Good job."

• I wheezed. He chuckled and looked back at the sunset. A light wind blew by. ...I'm so thankful for golden hour.

• "So, can I become a member?"

• Huh?

• "Of course!"

• "This is the most fun I had in weeks!"

• He looked over at me.

• "And cause your a nice guy!"

• I don't want him to think he's just a source of entertainment or anything. Ichigo stuck out his hand.

• "Agreed?"

• I smiled.

• "Agreed!"

• We shook hands.

• "Welcome to the happy feelings club."

°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°

• "Orihime,''

• (We're putting the stuff away.)

• "Yeah?"

• "How come you suddenly know my name?"

• I know I forgot to tell her about it. She thought for a moment.

• "The cat you drew earlier!"

• "You signed it."

• Ah, she saw it!?

• "That's great."

• I said with a fake smile. She nodded.

• "It's going on your nametag!"

• Huh!?

°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°

This was so long! But, y'know what, first episodes are always long. (And I may of done it on my tablet) Anyway, I really like this one. I can't wait for the next episode. Stay cool!

Little tag list: @elyonholic @o0o0thorn0o0o @ichihimelover1503 @takibikaen @usoppsstar

#bleach #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #happy feelings club #first episode #finally got this done #loved it #real tired #hope you enjoy #ichigo x orihime #ichihime #stay cool #love u all

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pedrito-friskito · 11 months

Text

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part twenty-seven

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

you reach Kansas City, things don’t go exactly as planned.

a/n: remember when I said this was gonna be up what a week ago? MY BAD. love you all🤍

word count: 8.6k

warnings: if you’ve been reading this far, you know the drill. a good chunk of violence in this one.

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

Ellie wakes to a strange rattling noise. It sounds almost liquidy, but metallic at the same time, but definitely fucking annoying.

With a quiet groan, she pokes her head out of the sleeping bag, finding the source of the noise. There’s some kind of container on the camping stove, like a taller version of the pot she’d watched you warm the ravioli up in last night, but more narrow, the handle attached at two ends instead of one.

The sun’s up, the ground beneath her isn’t as hard as she anticipated, and slowly, she rolls onto her knees, still encased in the sleeping bag as she shuffles forward to inspect the thing on the stove. The lid looks like plastic, and she can see the liquid inside, dark brown and sputtering as she flips the lid.

The smell hits her like a damn truck, and she groans loudly. “Ugh! What the fuck is that?”

She hears your instant laughter, turning to see both you and Joel standing at the back of the truck, packing things back up. You have the rifle slung across your back, and Joel lifts his brows at Ellie. “You don’t like coffee?”

She makes a face in response, rolling back over and flopping onto her back, and you appear a moment later, backlit by the cloudy sun, hands on your hips. “Up and at ‘em, kid. We need to get a move on.”

Once all the packing is done, you and Joel start to bicker about who’s driving first. Joel keeps insisting that he take the first shift, and you keep reminding him that you took the first watch, so you drive first. Ellie doesn’t miss the way his jaw goes tight when your voice drops and you say something he can’t make out, but then he shoves the thermos of coffee at you, stalking towards the trucks and climbing into the backseat. Your eyes follow him, but then shoot back to Ellie, who nearly flinches, reaching for her bag. “Let’s go.”

It takes Joel all of five minutes to pass out in the backseat, and you shake your head, glancing at him over your shoulder as you pull back onto the highway, the truck wobbling slightly as it goes from grass to asphalt.

“Stubborn as fuck, I tell you.”

Ellie settles deeper into her seat. You leave the radio off to let Joel sleep, and when you reach for the thermos, Ellie keeps her voice low. “Is that seriously what those Starbucks in the QZ used to sell?”

“Hah, they had better stuff than this. Bill had a stockpile, but none of it was as fresh as theirs.”

She wrinkles her nose. “It smells like burnt shit.”

You huff a little laugh. “Used to be able to get it with all kinds of stuff, caramel, cinnamon, hazelnut. Smelled like a damn dream.” You jut your chin towards the little door in front of Ellie’s legs. “Open that, yeah? Get the map out. I think I know where I’m going, but the last thing we need is to get lost.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Ellie agrees, and reaches for the handle. The door drops open when she pulls on it, and fishes the maps out, unfolding it in her lap. “Have you ever been to Wyoming before?”

“Never,” you reply, sipping the coffee again. She watches as you close the cap one-handed, your other braced on top of the steering wheel. “We moved around a bit when I was a kid, but I guess it’s not far from where my sister was born, now that I think about it.”

“You have a sister?” Ellie asks instantly, her curiosity piqued. She’s still not quite sure what it is about you that has her so curious, her questions coming one after another. And she’s no fool, she knows Joel has about had it with the questions, but you indulge her, and it’s…it’s nice.

“Had,” you say quickly, and Ellie bites her tongue, instantly regretting it, wondering if you’re about to make another rule for her, like you had back in Lincoln. “She was in Austin, with our parents, but then Joel found her in Cincinnati. She, uh, she died. She got bit and FEDRA dragged her off.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

You lift a shoulder, moving both hands to the steering wheel. Your eyes are glued to the windshield in front of you.

But Ellie can’t help herself. She wants to know; she has to know. “What about your parents?”

“Remember how I told you they bombed Boston?” you say, and Ellie nods, remembering the story, the craters in the streets, how it looks like a fucked-up moon. “Austin was overrun, and FEDRA levelled the city. My parents were in a shelter when they dropped the bombs, and no one survived.”

The map flutters in Ellie’s grip as her finger curl, the paper crinkling. “I…”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, kid,” you say, but she can see the strange expression on your face, something she doesn’t have a name for. “It happened a long time ago.”

You both go quiet for a while, and the only sound is the rumble of the truck, Joel’s quiet breathing in the backseat, and the rustle of the map as Ellie tries to figure out where you are, where you’re going. You offer help where you can, splitting your focus between the road and the map. “Right about there,” you point, “that’s where we camped.”

“Okay, so it’s 76 West, and then 70 West for, like, ever.”

“Then Wyoming?”

Ellie nods in agreement. “And then Wyoming. Do we know where in Wyoming, exactly?”

You shake your head. “Joel knows. There’s a radio tower that we used to send messages through it; I can’t remember the city. Last we heard from Tommy, that’s where it came from.”

“Tommy is Joel’s brother?”

“He is,” Joel answers, startling you both. He leans forward from the backseat, reaching for the thermos of coffee. “The tower is in Cody.”

Ellie turns back to the map, ignoring the loud slurp as Joel drinks from the thermos. “Cody…Cody.” She spots it, along the fold in the map. “Ah, man, that is deep up in there.”

“Great,” you mumble, reaching for the thermos as Joel hands it to you.

“Yeah,” Joel grumbles in response, and Ellie sees the way his hand lingers on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“And if he’s not there?” she asks.

“Then odds are, he’ll be near a settlement,” Joel replies, “probably close to another city. Ain’t too many of ‘em in Wyoming, thankfully.”

Ellie’s eyes find another city name on the map. “Chee-Yen.”

“Cheyenne,” you correct, and she looks at you.

“Che—really?”

The corner of your mouth quirks and you nod. “Really.”

“Cheyenne,” Ellie repeats, searching for more cities. “Laramie. Casper?” Another question piques, and she turns to Joel. “Is Tommy older than you or younger than you?”

His brow furrows in that way of his and he reaches for the thermos again. “Younger.”

“Why isn’t he with you?”

“Long story.”

“You people and your long stories,” Ellie groans, tipping her head back. “Is it longer than twenty-five hours? Cuz I think that’s what we got.”

Joel sighs, and she sees his eyes flick up, no doubt meeting yours in the mirror. Your grin is gone, your lips now pressed into a tight line.

Another sigh, and then the man speaks. “Tommy’s what we used to call a ‘joiner,’” he starts, fiddling with the cap on the thermos. “Dreams of becomin’ a hero. So, he enlisted in the army right outta high school. Few months later, they ship him off to Desert Storm. It’s what they called that war, it doesn’t matter. Point is, bein’ in the army didn’t make him feel much like a hero. Cut to twelve years later, outbreak happens, and he convinces me to join a group makin’ their way out to Baltimore, which I did, mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive. That’s where we met Tess, and her husband. That whole crew. We, uh…”

He trails off, and Ellie sees his eyes flick up again. You adjust your hands on the steering wheel.

“Well,” he continues after a beat, staring down into the thermos, “for what it was, it worked. Until it didn’t. We got kicked outta Baltimore, Tommy convinces us to try Boston, and…”

Ellie looks at you. “And then you found each other again.”

You nod slowly, your lips still pressed together.

“We did,” Joel agrees. “And it worked, again, being in the QZ, keepin’ ourselves busy, keepin’ the smuggling under the radar. Then Tommy meets Marlene, and she talks him into joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen.” He shakes his head. “Wants to save the world. Pipe dream. Him, Fireflies, all of ‘em, delusional.”

You inhale sharply.

“‘Course, last I heard,” Joel says, “he quit the Fireflies, too. So now he’s on his own out there, and…we gotta go get him.”

It goes silent in the truck again, save for your quiet swallow as Joel gives you the thermos again. But it’s only a moment before Ellie breaks it. “If you don’t think there’s hope for the world, why bother going on? I mean, you gotta try, right?”

Joel’s brow pinches again. “You haven’t seen the world, so you don’t know.” His eyes flick up again, but yours stay glued to the road ahead. “You keep goin’ for family. That’s about it.”

“I’m not family,” Ellie says, and ignores the way the words make her chest hurt.

“No,” Joel says instantly. “You’re cargo. We made a promise to Tess, and she was like family.”

She turns her head away from him, staring at the world rolling by outside. “What if you don’t find him?”

“We will,” you answer, a strange waver in your voice. “We’re persistent people, Ellie. Capable people. We’ll find Tommy, and we’ll get you to the Fireflies.”

She’s too distracted by the weird tone in your voice to notice the truck rolling to a stop. You push the stick on the middle console forward, and your eyes flick up to Joel’s.

“Outside. Now.” Before Ellie can say a word, you’re getting out of the truck, your eyes flashing to her before you shut the door. “Stay here. I just need a minute.”

Ellie just watches, the truck wobbling slightly as Joel shuffles out after you, slamming his door shut. You walk around to the front of the truck, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, and Joel follows.

“Cargo?” you shout, whirling on him when Joel reaches for your arm, your name halfway out of his mouth. “Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?”

“What are you—”

“She’s a person,” you nearly cry, grabbing the front of his jacket with both hands. “She’s just a kid, Joel. You can’t fucking…Cargo?”

“I’m sorry,” Joel grunts, wrapping a hand around your wrist. “It just came out, all right? I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m gonna say it once,” you say, smacking his hand away, pointing a finger in his chest. “Don’t ever call her that again. You hear me? She’s not fucking cargo.”

He just stares at you for a moment, lifting his hand again. When you don’t immediately smack it away again, he curls his fingers around your wrist, tugging on your hand. “Liv, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

He lifts a brow. “I don’t know the last time you snapped on me like this, so maybe you are.” He presses his fingers against your pulse. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

You try to turn away from him, but he sees your bottom lip wobble, and pulls you back. “Last night, I just…I let my mind wander.”

“And?”

“And this feels like some kind of karmic joke,” you say, shrugging your shoulder, your eyes going shiny. “We’ve been hiding what I am for what, almost fifteen years? We could have stopped this a long time ago, and yet somehow, here we are, doing favours for Marlene of all people, putting our asses on the line, taking this kid across the country on a wing and prayer, and for what? To make up for all the terrible shit we did? She could save the damn world, and I’d still feel guilty.”

“Liv, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” you say, cutting him off, lifting a hand in the air. “I know why we made the choices we did, Joel. And I don’t regret them — I don’t regret choosing you over everything else. I never will. Ever. But this kid? She’s not just cargo, okay? It’s more than that. And don’t try to tell me that it’s not.”

Joel swallows hard, the guilt gnawing at his gut, and he pulls you against his chest, his words muffled by your hair. “I made you a promise,” he says, your words from the forest echoing through his head. “No questions asked. And…it is more than that. I know that. I just…”

He pulls back, holding you at arm’s length, and his eyes catch on his watch, just visible past the cuff of his jacket. Your eyes follow his, and you cover it with your hand, brushing your fingers against the band. “Joel.”

“We need to keep goin’,” he says, effectively ending the conversation. He turns on his heel, swallowing down the barrage of emotion that’s crept up his throat. You don’t fight him as you follow, slipping your hand into his as you walk back to the truck. From the corner of his eye, he sees you wipe your cheeks, and you don’t say a word as he gets into the driver’s seat, you taking his place in the back.

Ellie glances between the two of you as he shifts the truck back into drive, the tires starting to roll as his foot comes off the break. “Ya got up pretty early,” he says to the kid. “If you wanna grab some more sleep.”

He can see the flash of protest in her face, but then she nods. In the backseat, you pull your jacket over you like a blanket, curling up on the seat. Joel pushes the gas pedal, the engine revving as he finds a comfortable speed. He puts the Linda Ronstadt cassette back in, keeps the volume low enough, and it’s not long before you’re both asleep. He finishes off the coffee, gripping the steering wheel one-handed as the grey sky starts to darken, but not into night.

He can almost smell it, the shift in the air, the feeling of rain before it comes. His joints ache, and he can hear your voice in his head: old man. He keeps his eyes on the road, humming along with the cassette, and when she croons out Bill and Frank’s song again, his eyes dart to your sleeping form in the backseat.

His eyes slide to Ellie next, passed out in the passenger’s seat, her head tipped back, mouth wide open. That thing crawls up his throat again, but he swallows it back, shakes his head, clears his throat.

Not now.

The thunder starts first, loud rumbles that echo inside the truck cab. You both sleep through the first few, but as the rain starts to fall, he hears you stirring, one hand reaching for his arm, calling his name softly.

“We might have to stop for a bit,” he tells you, covering your hand with his free one. “Dunno how bad it’s gonna get.”

Not thirty minutes later, and he’s pulling the truck to the side of the road, trying to tuck it amongst other abandoned vehicles. Ellie wakes a little later, clearly confused, and you put a hand on her shoulder as you explain why you’ve stopped. Joel does his best to ignore the twist that forms in his gut, seeing you be gentle with her.

Not here.

Thankfully all the food is in the cab of the truck, so you fish out some dry stuff, trail mix and some semi-stale crackers, a sports drink passed between the three of you. Ellie makes a face at the yellow colour, and Joel shakes his head. “They all taste the same.”

“They do not,” you laugh, taking the bottle from Ellie. “Is it weird to say the yellow ones were my favourite?”

“Yes,” Ellie says instantly, making a face as you take a big sip. “It literally looks like pee!”

“Lemon-flavoured,” you shoot back, waggling your eyebrows. The kid barks a laugh, and Joel chews the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling.

A few more puns are told, Joel shaking his head at you both, and you field a few more of Ellie’s questions. Only one of them has you glancing in his direction, unable to give her an answer. Are all the QZs like Boston?

“No,” he says bluntly, staring out the truck windshield, at the watery world beyond, smudged through the soaked glass, “no, they aren’t.”

It’s answer enough for the kid.

The rain refuses to let up, and it’s getting cold in the cab of the truck. You and Ellie switch places, some artful manoeuvring on your part that ends with you more in Joel’s lap than the passenger’s seat. You linger a moment, and he brushes his hand across your back before you’re folding yourself into the other seat. You’d thought to stick the sleeping bags in the cab as well, and Ellie unzips hers, tucking it around herself as she settles into the backseat. It’s not long at all until she’s passed out again, face buried in the sleeping bag.

You shed your boots, and Joel reaches for your sore ankle again, rubbing the same way he had in the forest. You hum happily, leaning half against the door, half against the seat. The blanket is settled over you both, stretched across the console, and Joel lets his hand snake a bit up your pant leg, fingers seeking your warm skin, massaging your muscles.

“You are damn good at that, Joel Miller,” you murmur, watching him from your spot, your head cocked to the side.

He lets the corner of his mouth lift. “I’m an expert when it comes to touching you, baby.”

Your grin matches his. “Ain’t that the truth.”

You both fall quiet, and the only noise is the patter of the rain on the roof of the truck, the softer noise of it against the windows, and Ellie’s quiet breathing. He doesn’t let up on your ankle, and for a long moment, you just stare at each other, your head still tilted to the side, Joel looking up at you under his eyelashes.

“I’m sorry, for snapping on you earlier,” you say, pushing your head against your fist. Your eyes are shiny again.

He squeezes his hand around your leg, pressing into the muscle of your calf. “You don’t have to apologize, Liv.”

“I do,” you say, your voice insistent, and you reach across the space between you, fingers curling in his sleeve, tugging his hands into yours. “It wasn’t fair of me, I just—”

“You were looking out for the kid,” he says, tangling your fingers together. “I know that.”

Both of your heads turn, looking at Ellie’s sleeping form in the back. Joel doesn’t let his gaze linger, focusing on your linked finger instead.

“What are we gonna do, Joel,” you ask, “when this is all over?” When he doesn’t answer right away, you elaborate. “After we get her to the Fireflies, I mean. After we find Tommy.”

He squeezes your knuckles with his own. “I haven’t really thought that far, if I’m bein’ honest.” His brow furrows as he looks at you, sees something unspoken on your face. “Why, what are you thinkin’, baby?”

You lift your shoulder slowly. “I thought maybe…maybe we go back to Lincoln. Bill’s bunker was still full, even after we took what we did. We could give them a proper funeral, clean the place up again, build the walls up. Have our own place.” Your eyes drop to your lap. “Our own home.”

“Is that what you imagined for us?” Joel asks you, reaching over and cupping your chin in his palm, lifting your eyes to his. You lean into his touch, bending forward to make it easier for him. “White picket fence, big house with a yard…”

The last part goes unspoken, but it’s loud as hell in his mind.

…kids?

Your face twists, a sad smile on your lips as you cover his hand with yours, keeping his hand against your cheek. “You know, I never actually let myself imagine it after I left Austin. Cuz when I finally let myself want that with you, I had to let you go, and once I let himself start to want you again, the world ended.”

Joel’s throat goes thick. You’ve never told him that before. “Want me…again?”

You nod into his palm. “Our birthday. You called me, and we talked, and you—”

“I asked you if Dean had proposed.”

Another nod. “And I told you if he asked, I would have said no. And you told me that you’d always be there for me. I thought about it the whole way home, and I just…” You turn your head, pressing a soft kiss to the centre of his palm. “I never stopped wanting you, Joel. Never stopped loving you. I can’t ever stop.”

A single tear slides down your cheek, and Joel reaches for you, centre console be damned. “C’mere,” he husks, hauling you into his lap, arranging your limbs until you’re comfortable, the blanket now draped over you both. His words are muffled by your hair. “Love you so goddamned much.”

You tilt your head back to press a kiss to the scruff of his jaw. “Love you more.”

The road is clear, until it’s not.

You’re not totally sure where you are. The maps have you a bit turned around, and it’s hard as hell to pinpoint a location on the map. You’re in the passenger’s seat again, Joel behind the wheel, Ellie in the back. You split your gaze between the maps and the outside, trying to find some kind of marker, some landmark that might help you figure out where you are. But too many signs are rusted away, the names snapped in half, the highway signs rotted and scattered in pieces on the highway.

Eventually, things start to look more…industrial. You’re at a loss; you haven’t been this far out of Boston since the outbreak, and even before, you never went Northwest. An overpass has you squinting at the maps, trying to find the number, but the vehicles have grown more concentrated, and Joel manoeuvres the truck around an abandoned ambulance, but then hits the breaks, seeing an eighteen-wheeler stretched sideways along the tunnel beneath the overpass, effectively blocking the way.

“Stay put,” you tell Ellie, tossing the maps onto the dashboard. Joel gestures to the rifle in the backseat and Ellie hands it to him, while you unholster your gun, sliding out of the passenger’s side.

You walk towards the blocked tunnel slowly, both of your gazes sweeping left and right, every rustle of leaves in the wind making your sense prickle. You feel…uneasy.

Glancing back at the truck, you can see Ellie through the windshield, leaning between the front seats, concern evident on her face. “Joel,” you call as he sinks to one knee, peering through the small space beneath the eighteen-wheeler’s trailer, “we’re not getting through this. None of these cars are movable.” You gesture around, the smashed cars and rusted-out vans only proving your point. “You even know where we are?”

“Kansas City,” he supplies.

You scratch your fingers across your forehead. “Missouri?”

“Sure as fuck ain’t Wyoming,” he grunts, and reaches out a hand. You haul him to his feet, holstering your gun as you start back to the truck. “I need to look at the map.”

Ellie glances between you as you get back into the truck, instantly handing Joel the map, trying to make sense of one of the smaller ones. “How far back are we gonna have to go to get around this?” you ask Joel, jutting your chin at the map in his hands. He traces his finger across the highway lines, but doesn’t say anything, just sighs. “Joel?”

“Screw it,” he says, and shifts the truck into reverse. Ellie falls back into her seat as Joel tosses you the maps.

“What are you doing?”

“We can jog right around this tunnel,” he says, three-point-turning the truck around, bracing his hand on the back of your seat as he does so, “take the next ramp,” he shifts it into drive, “and we’re back on the road, a minute tops.”

You reach for the map again, not totally convinced as he drives off the on-ramp, leading away from the tunnel.

Somehow, you end up in the city.

“We’re going the wrong way,” you say, shaking your head at him as the buildings start to become more and more concentrated. “Joel, this is taking us in the opposite direction of the highway.”

“Well, then where the fuck is the highway?” he shoots back at you, exasperated. His tone makes you bristle. “Tell me which way to go.”

“I don’t know where it is,” you say, smacking your hand against the map. “I’m all turned around, and I have no clue where the fuck we are right now.”

He glances over you, turning onto the next street. “Don’t look at the state map, Liv, look at the inset.”

“You look at the fucking inset!” You heave a sigh, shoving your hand through your hair. “Sorry, I’ve never been to Kansas fucking City before. We’re going…north. I think.”

“And the highway is—”

“West,” Ellie supplies from the backseat, and when you shoot her a look over your shoulder, she shrugs her shoulders, holds her hands out apologetically.

“Okay, so it’s gotta be the right,” Joel grunts, but then shakes his head, murmuring what the fuck?

“We’re going in a circle,” you sigh, dropping the map in your lap. “We’re just—”

“Stop!” Ellie says suddenly, leaning between the seats. Joel slams on the brakes, the tires screeching as the truck come to a halt. She points out Joel’s window. “Is that the QZ?”

Your heart slams against your ribs as you see the QZ wall. It looks…abandoned, for lack of a much better word. The gate in the wall is wide open, and your hand shoots out, landing on Joel’s leg, curling your fingers in the fabric of his jeans. “Where the fuck is FEDRA?”

“Hey!” someone shouts, and you nearly jump out of your skin. Joel goes rigid. “Please help!”

The man stumbles forward on the street ahead of you, clutching his side, half-draped in a blanket. “Seatbelts,” Joel grits out, and you do as he says, turning to make sure Ellie gets hers on.

She stares at you wide-eyed as Joel grips the wheel, steps on the gas. “Aren’t we gonna help him?”

“No,” you reply, pressing yourself against the seat as the truck accelerates down the road. “No, we’re not.”

The man shouts, diving for cover, and you spot someone on the fire escape of the building on the right side of the road. “Joel!” you shout, the rev of the engine nearly drowning you out, but a moment later, the windshield crunches, a cinderblock splintering the glass. The impact throws the truck of course for a second, but Joel straightens it out, just in time for the tires to roll over a spike strip in the road. You can hear the air hissing from the tires, the truck rocking from left to right across the road. Ellie squeaks from the backseat, and you throw your arm back, your chest going tight when her hand wraps in yours.

Another man blocks the road, lifting a gun and pointing it right at the truck. Joel shouts a curse, cranking the wheel all the way to the right, and the truck nearly slides across the pavement, speeding right through the glass front of a laundromat. The hood crunches inward as it slams into the row of washing machines, and you’re jolted in your seat, your arm bent at an awkward angle, hand still wrapped around Ellie’s.

“You okay?” Joel asks, palm coming down on your leg. “You’re not hurt?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine,” you reply, gritting your teeth against the slight pain in your shoulder. “Nothing major. Ellie?”

“I don’t think so,” she answers, a waver in her voice.

Gunshots ring out, and you all duck on instinct. It keeps coming, shattering the glass doors of the machines, and Joel pushes at your shoulder, ripping your hand from Ellie’s. “Belts off, out of the truck!” he shouts, more gunshots cutting him off. You do as he says, reaching for the handle of the door. They keep shooting and you reach for the back door the moment you’re out, nearly yanking Ellie out of the truck. Joel goes for the rifle, and when you shut the door again, you put Ellie between you two, leaning against the truck as Joel loads the gun. She has your bat clutched in her hands.

There are more of them, more gunshots ringing through the laundromat, pinging off the body of the truck, flying over your heads to the back wall. Joel meets your eyes over Ellie’s head, and you draw your gun in one hand, and reach for the bat with the other. Ellie gives it willingly. You look around for something — anything — that might help, and finally, you spot a hole in the wall to your right, a kid-sized hole in the drywall leading to the other side.

“Ellie,” you say quietly, putting your hand on her arm. It makes her flinch. “You see that hole over there?” She follows your eyes, her chin lowering once. “You’re gonna squeeze through it, okay?” Gunfire cuts you off, and she grabs your hand, squeezing it between both of hers, her palms clammy.

“Last chance!” the fuckers outside yell. It makes your gut twist.

You shake your head, your attention turning to the kid, who now has a faraway expression on her face. “Ellie. When I say go, you crawl to the wall, you squeeze through, and you don’t come out until one of us gets you, okay?”

A bullet shatters the passenger’s side window, glass raining down on you. Out of reflex, you throw yourself over Ellie, protecting her. Her head whips around as more bullets ping off the truck. “They’re not gonna hit you,” Joel tells her. Her eyes are everywhere, and you try to brush glass away as Joel grabs the front of her coat. “Look at me!”

She listens. A bullet skims off the concrete floor beside your hand and it makes you flinch, an unseen mark, the burn of metal making you snatch your hand up off the floor.

“They’re not gonna hit you,” Joel says, his eyes locked with Ellie’s. “You stay down, you stay low, you stay quiet. Okay?”

“Okay,” she says meekly, with a nod.

“Go!” Joel shouts, and you both swing upwards, aiming your weapons. From the corner of your eye, you can see Ellie slide across the floor. You just keep shooting, training your gun on anything that moves until you know she’s against the wall. You empty your clip, dropping to your knee to reload, and she’s through the hole, behind the wall.

She’s safe.

You and Joel pull the trigger at the same time, your bullets finding new homes, dropping two of your attackers. “Motherfuckers!” someone yells, and you drop back down behind the truck. Your chest is heaving, your eyes darting to the hole in the wall. Joel whispers your name, juts his chin toward an old vending machine at the back of the laundromat. He moves first, and you follow, feeling his hand on your back, pushing you to safety.

The crunch of glass gives the guy away, and you straighten, pushing Joel’s shoulder down and pulling the trigger at the same time. It only takes one shot to drop him. You’re trying to catch your breath, forcing your eyes away from the blood now pooling around the guy’s head. Joel pulls the lever on the rifle, but it’s jammed. He curses, yanking on it hard, just as back doors you hadn’t noticed burst open, a new opponent barreling through.

Without thinking, you throw yourself in the line of fire, angling yourself in front of Joel. There’s a barrel of a shotgun in your face, and your instincts kick into gear. You swing the bat up, knocking the barrel away as the man pulls the trigger, the shot hitting the ceiling instead of you. But it’s not enough to loosen his grip.

The butt of the shotgun cracks across your face a second later, your vision instantly tinging black, and you go toppling, your head hitting the ground hard. Joel screams your name, but the sound is distant. The bat skitters out of your grip, but you have the wherewithal to keep your fingers tight around your gun. Joel, where is J—

You black out for a moment, the world slipping away completely, but a loud bang yanks you back, pained grunting following. “Now you’re gonna fuckin’ pay!” Your head lolls to the side, and you can’t quite make out what’s happening. Your head screams at you to move, and you see Joel’s boots scraping against the floor. Someone’s on him, someone’s—

Another shot rings out. It makes your ears ring. Someone shouts, and Joel starts coughing. He’s gasping, wheezing, crawling on his hands and knees toward you. He grabs your face in his hands, and something on your cheek feels hot, too hot. “Liv,” he calls, his voice hoarse. “Baby, are you okay?”

Slowly, he helps you up. Your head is spinning, but over his shoulder, you see Ellie step forward, her gun trained on your attacker, now sprawled on the floor. Joel’s eyes follow yours, and they widen when he sees her weapon of choice. The realization makes your heart twist; she shot the guy attacking you.

Joel pulls his hand from your face, and you see it’s covered in blood. The man groans, and when he spots Ellie and her gun, he lifts his hands in surrender. “No, no, no, no, it’s okay! It’s over! We’re not fighting anymore.” He wheezes, clearly in pain, and Joel gets to his feet, reaching down for you, his eyes trained on the guy.

He looks young. Too young.

“I’m gonna go home,” he says, “and I’ll tell everyone you’re good.” He starts crying, his voice going high-pitched. “I don’t know what to do! My legs don’t work!”

Even through your haze, you can put two and two together. She must have hit him in the spine.

“My mom isn’t far,” he continues, near sobbing. “If you could get me to her.” His eyes cut to you and Joel, now on your feet. You stumble slightly, but Joel has a tight grip on you. “We could trade with you guys. We could be friends. I didn’t know. I’m Bryan. I’m Bryan.”

Still with a tight grip on you, Joel turns to Ellie. She lowers the gun, and he holds his hand out. You open your mouth to say something, but she sniffs, shaking her head, and hands it to him. One-handed, Joel tucks it into the waist of his jeans.

“Take her,” he says to Ellie, and it takes a second for you to realize he’s referring to you. His grip on you disappears, and for a moment, you think you might topple over, but Ellie fits herself beneath your arm, one arm tight around your waist, tugging your arm around her shoulders.

Joel pulls out his knife. “Wait, wait, wait!” Bryan shouts, and pulls a knife from his belt, letting it clatter to the floor. “You can have it! It’s a good knife.”

“Turn around,” Joel says, nailing Ellie with dark eyes that send a chill down your spine. His tone clears away some of the haze in your head. “Now.”

“No, no, no, no!” Bryan shouts again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Liv,” Joel calls, his tone still shiver-inducing. Blinking hard, you turn Ellie towards the wall, angling yourself in front of her. She’s still holding you upright, and buries her face in your chest. You can feel the tears on her cheeks, and you lift your hand, letting it rest on the back of her head.

“Please, please, please,” Bryan whimpers.

“Cover your ears,” you whisper to Ellie, propping your chin on the top of her head. Blood drips down your face, sticky and hot, and you ignore it as best you can, though it’s hard to ignore the throb in your cheek.

“I’m sorry, please! You don’t have to! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please!”

Ellie’s breathing gets heavy, the front of your shirt almost damp with it.

You hear Joel take the man’s life. You wait until the gasping stops, and then you tap Ellie’s shoulder. “It’s over.” For a moment, she doesn’t move, squeezing both arms around you. You sway slightly, and Joel’s hand touches between your shoulders. It makes you flinch, and Ellie jumps back, pressing herself to the wall.

He’s got your chin in his hand a second later, turning your head slightly, giving you a once-over. “You okay? Nothing broken?”

“Hurts,” you admit, and he wipes away a bit of the blood with his sleeve. “I’ll live.”

Ellie’s eyes dart past Joel, towards where Bryan lies, and he steps to the side, blocking her view, taking you with him. Joel gestures to the hole. “Need you to find a door or something, we’re not gonna fit through that.”

She nods, her lip quivering, and immediately climbs back through the hole, disappearing from view. Joel grabs your chin again, and you notice how heavy his breathing is, how shaky his hands are. It’s quiet, for a moment, no more gunfire or shouting. “Scared me.”

“Makes two of us,” you agree, sighing as he leans in, pressing a kiss to the uninjured side of your face, right at your jaw. “We need to get out of here.”

He glances over your shoulder at the wrench of the truck and the front of the laundromat. “Truck’s toast, we’ll figure it out. We need to find somewhere safe, for the night at least. High up, find a way out of the city. And get you cleaned up.” He bends slightly, peering through the hole in the wall. “Ellie!”

“There’s some stuff against the door,” she calls back, and you can hear her sigh.

Joel’s jaw goes tight. “Well, can you move it?”

It’s slow-going. Your head throbs with every step, twin shocks of pain in your skull and along your cheek. Joel’s grip is tight around your waist, his head whipping in every direction as he keeps you close to the building, and then he leans you against the front of brick as Ellie pulls whatever’s blocking the door out of the way, Joel pushing hard against it to help. The moment the door swings inward, he rushes you in, shuts the door, and then motions for Ellie to help push the table back into place. “Let’s go,” he says to her. “Fast.”

“Right.”

The door clangs as the table is pushed back into it. The noise makes your ears ring, and you sag against the table, exhaling heavily. Ellie sniffs loudly, and both you and Joel look at her. “I’m okay,” she says quickly, dropping down to grab her backpack. “I’m good.” She sets the bag on the table, unzips it. “I, uh, got some food in here still, and I got your light,” she says, and pulls out Joel’s flashlight, handing it to him. She looks between the two of you, wincing when she sees the blood on your face. “Fuck, Liv, are you—”

“I’ll be fine, kid,” you tell her, ignoring the way the words make your head throb. Your breath hitches, and you glance across at the hole in the wall. “Shit, Joel, the bat.”

His face goes hard, and you know what he’s gonna say. You can’t go back over there. There are bodies, evidence of the violence, and whoever sent the men will come looking. Standing here as long as you have is risk enough. “Liv, we—”

“I’ll go,” Ellie says, already walking toward the wall. “I can grab it and just—”

The distant screech of tires makes you freeze and you flash your hand out, grabbing the back of her coat and hauling her backward. “Leave it,” you grit out, lifting yourself up off the table. “We need to go now.”

“Where?” Ellie asks, and Joel heads to the door in the back of the room, clicking his flashlight on as he pushes it open slowly. Ellie fits herself under your arm again, your forearm resting on her backpack. “What are we gonna do now?”

“We go up,” you tell her, echoing what Joel had said earlier. “See if we can spot a path outta here.”

Joel glances over his shoulder at you, eyeing your arm around the kid’s shoulders. “Stay close.”

She nods. “Got it.”

You follow Joel down a hallway that leads out into an alley beside the building. There are cars scattered, and as the rumble of a truck gets closer, you duck down, wincing as you go, hiding behind an SUV as a pickup rolls past the mouth of the alleyway, followed by a larger armoured truck.

They start shouting Bryan’s name.

Joel signals for you to stay put, and darts across the alley, to the side door of the building across the way. You hold your breath as he pulls it open, peering inside before turning back to you and Ellie, giving a quick nod. You rise slowly, but then push yourself, moving as fast as you can across the pavement to Joel’s side. He leads you inside, and Ellie pulls the door shut behind you.

It’s dark inside, and for a moment, you pause. Joel puts his gun away, and you follow suit. You sag against the wall slightly, and he’s got his hand under your chin. “Look at me,” he commands, and you listen, blinking hard as you stare back at him. “Think it’s a concussion?”

“No,” you tell him, lifting your head out of his palm. “I’m fine, Joel.” It comes out snappier than you intend, and your body gives you away, wobbling slightly with the turn of your head. “Fuck. I just need to sit down a minute, or something.”

As quietly as possible, you make your way through the building. It seems to be some kind of abandoned retail space, a bunch of different stores and shops connected by one main hallway. Right at the end of the block is an old coffee house, and Joel decides it’s a good place to spot, seeing the newspaper-covered windows and dark-painted walls.

“Are we okay in here?” Ellie asks as you walk in, Joel heading for the front of the shop. You watch as he peels back a small corner of the newspaper, just enough to peer through, and you sink into a chair nearby.

“For now,” you tell her, and wipe some more of the blood from your face. The bleeding’s stopped, as far as you can tell, and something in your chest pangs as Ellie reaches into her bag and pulls out what looks like an old t-shirt.

“Here,” she says, handing it to you. “It’s mostly clean.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Thanks, kid.”

Silence settles over the three of you as Joel peers out the window. “That wasn’t FEDRA that attacked us,” you say as he sinks back a little.

“Wasn’t Fireflies either,” Ellie says, and you nod. “Then who are they?”

“People,” Joel sighs. “Looks like they’re checkin’ out apartment buildings first.” He shakes his head. “But they’ll be comin’ through these places soon enough.” He rises to his feet, turning and walking towards you. Ellie takes his place, looking through the crack in the newspaper. He taps your shoulder as soon as he’s close enough, and takes the t-shirt from you. You can almost hear the ache in his knees as he crouches down and starts wiping the blood from your face. His face is a hard mask, and you can stop yourself from cupping his cheek, swiping your thumb across his cheekbone. “When he burst through the door back there,” he mutters, shaking his head ever so slightly, “and then I saw you drop. I heard the shot, but I didn’t see where he—”

“Joel,” you murmur, brushing your fingers through his hair. “We’re fine. I’m fine.”

“Cracked you damn good,” he replies, dabbing lightly. You try not to wince. “Lucky it didn’t break your cheekbone.”

Before you can respond, Ellie pipes up. “There’s a really tall building, like, four blocks away.”

“Yeah,” Joel grunts, and hands you the now-stained t-shirt. You hold it against your cheek, watching as he sinks into the chair across from yours. “Saw it.”

“That’s where we’re going?” she asks, glancing at you over her shoulder. “Up?”

Joel nods. “As soon as we don’t hear a truck, we move. Fast as we can.”

He props his elbow on the table, puts his face in his hand, and you reach over, curling your fingers around his forearm. He’s shaking.

You murmur his name as Ellie slides down to sit against the wall, drawing her knees up to his chest. He doesn’t answer you, but drops his hand, catching yours in the process. “Are you okay?” Ellie asks, and when your eyes flick to her, you see she’s addressing Joel.

“I’m all right,” he grumbles, but his fingers twitch against yours, his brow furrowing. Damn that hard mask of his. “Are you…all right?” he asks in return, and you press your fingers against his wrist. His heartbeat races beneath his skin.

“Yeah,” Ellie says quietly, but she doesn’t elaborate.

“Joel,” you murmur again, and he shakes his head, staring down at his boots. You don’t have to see his face to know the guilt, the realization. If Ellie hadn’t done what she had, you’d probably all be laying dead in that laundromat.

“Thing is,” Joel says after a moment, his voice gruff, “is I didn’t hear that guy comin’. And…you…you shouldn’t have had to…you know?”

God, he’s bad at this. You know what he’s trying to say to her, but you can’t try and take over. He needs to say this himself.

“Well, you’re glad I did, right?” Ellie asks, and her eyes dart to you for a second.

“You’re just a kid,” he says, and suddenly your chest feels tight. “You shouldn’t know what it means to…” He trails off, but then lifts a hand. “It’s not like you killed him, but, shootin’ or…I know what it’s like, first time you, uh, hurt someone like that.”

Her eyes slide fully to you for a moment, and you just nod in return, the message silent. I do too.

“If you, uh, w—uh,” Joel tries to continue, but shakes his head, looking at you, a near cry for help in his eyes. “I’m not good at this.”

“Yeah, you really aren’t,” Ellie quips, and you squeeze his hand.

“I mean, it was my fault,” he says, shaking his head some more. “You shouldn’t have had to. And I’m sorry.”

You haven’t had a chance, really, to take in what happened. What Ellie did. Listening to Joel now, feeling his pulse race beneath your fingers, and seeing tears on the kid’s face as he tells her he’s sorry…It breaks your heart.

“I should have heard it,” you say, and Joel’s eyes flick to you. You lift your chin, ignoring the way your gut twists as Ellie wipes her cheeks. “I should have shot first, and I didn’t. I’m sorry, too, Ellie. I am. We’re here to protect you, and we…Joel’s right. You shouldn’t have had to do it.”

She nails you to your spot with those big dark eyes, wet with tears. That thing you’ve been feeling since this kid barrelled her way into your lives screams at you to grab her, to hug her close and tell her everything is gonna be okay, but you feel frozen, stuck in place, unable to move.

“It wasn’t my first time,” Ellie tells you both, and your brows raise. You can see the shock on Joel’s face, too.

Your fingers tap against Joel’s wrist. “Give her the gun.”

His head snaps back to you, one brow lifting slightly.

“It’s hers,” you prompt, lifting your chin slightly. “Give it back.”

Slowly, he moves over, closing the small space between the two of you and her, leaning down on one knee as he pulls the gun out of the back of his jeans. Ellie’s face perks up as he hands the small pistol back to her after pulling out the clip. “Show me your grip.”

She stares up at him as she does as asked, obeying when Joel tells her to take her finger off the trigger.

“Now, who taught you that?”

“FEDRA school,” she answers.

“Figures,” he grunts, and you push your chin into your palm as he reaches for her hands, adjusting her grip, showing her the proper way. The thing in your chest relaxes slightly, watching him with her. “Thumb over your thumb. Left hand squeezes down on the right. You got it?” She nods, doing what he tells her. You hear his voice soften ever so slightly. “There ya go.”

Ellie looks at you over Joel’s shoulder, almost like she’s looking for your approval. You try to blink away the wetness that’s formed in your eyes, and nod at her, giving her a little grin.

“Now, look it,” Joel says, and grabs the top of the gun, trying to pull it away. But she’s got the grip right and the gun doesn’t budge. Joel pulls again, nearly yanking her off the wall, and Ellie laughs. Then she relaxes, the laughter trailing off, but the smile on her face stays in place. “Okay?”

She nods. Joel gestures for the gun back, slides the clip back into place, and Ellie watches his movements. He hands it back to her, handle first, and the triumphant look on her face almost makes you laugh. She goes to put it in her pocket, but Joel stops her.

“Nuh-uh, you put it in your pack. You’ll shoot your damn ass off.” He gets back to his feet with a loud groan, and walks back to you. “How’s your head?”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, and take his offered hand, letting him help you up. You stuff the bloody t-shirt in the pocket of your coat. “I’ll feel better when we find somewhere safe for the night.” As of on cue, your face throbs so hard your eyes flutter shut. Joel squeezes your hip. “I’d murder for an ice pack right now.”

It’s a few more minutes, a few more pauses to determine where the truck that rumbles past goes, before Joel walks to the shop’s front door, starting to pull at the wood that’s been nailed over it. You try to help, but he waves you off. Once the door is free, Ellie comes up beside you, her hand slipping into yours. Joel sees it, and his eyes move from your hands to your faces, one at a time.

“We’ll get through this,” he says to Ellie, and you tighten your grip on her hand.

She gives a little nod. “I know.”

Without another word, Joel yanks the door open, and you step out into the daylight.

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themultifandomgal · 1 year

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Jay- Fist Date

Although Voight has a no dating rule in intelligence, Jay and I have been very flirty with each other. The whole, try not to get caught by your boss, thing only makes Jay flirt more and in all honesty... I like it, like a lot. It's kind of like when you tell a child not to do something and they go and do it. We have been sleeping with each other, have been a month after I joined intelligence, that was 4 months ago. The first time was because we were both drunk, we woke up the next day feeling awkward and agreed that it was a mistake and wouldn't happen again. The next time we slept together was after a tough case and it hit both of us hard, we found comfort in one another. At least that's what we said it was. Once turned into two, two turned into three and three turned into 3 months of sneaking around. I can't deny that Jay is an extremely attractive guy, but he's also very sweet and considering his flirting game has stepped up I can only assume he feels the same way.

I'm stood making a drink in the break room when Jay walks in and leans over my shoulder

"Come over to my place tonight I have a surprise" laughing I shake my head thinking Jays surprise is just sex

"Was last night not enough" I turn around and smirk at Jay. Our faces only inches away from one another

"Please" he practically begs

"Ok I'll be over at 7" I lean in to kiss Jay but quickly pull away as Erin walks in frowning

"Hey Erin" I smile and go back to the drink you were making "that's fine Jay I'll take a look at those files in a minute"

"Thanks" Jay nods and walks out

"What was that?"

"What was what?" I ask earning a 'are you serious' look

"You and Jay looked rather cosy"

"I don't know what your on about" I shrug

"You nearly kissed so come on spill"

"Fine I'll tell you but you cannot tell a soul" I whisper making sure the break room door is shut

"I won't tell anyone"

"Jay and I have been sleeping together the last three months. But that's all it it is. I.. we just both have an itch we have to scratch you know. Toys just don't..."

"Ewww ok I got it" Erin scrunches her face

"Sorry. He was asking me to come over tonight, but please Erin Voight has a no dating rule and I think that extends to friends with benefits"

"Don't worry your secrets safe" Erin turns to leave then stops "but I don't think it's just sex for either of you"

7pm

I arrive at Jays place and knock on the door. I'm not time at all he opens it up wearing a black shirt and jeans

"Come on in" he says opening the door up more. He takes my coat from me and hangs it up before leading me into the living room. The lights are dim and there are candles lit everywhere

"What's all this?" I frown looking around the room

"This is our first date" I then look at Jay

"Jay" I sigh. This confirms my thoughts that Jay also has feelings for me. I'm just worried about Voight

"I know what your going to say, but I seriously don't care what Voight says. Let's just see how this goes"

"What if Voight kicks one of us off intelligence?" I ask worriedly

"I won't let that happen" Jay moves a piece of hair off my face

"Ok" I say giving in because I do want to go on this date with Jay. He leads me to the couch and passes me a plate thats on the coffee table

"I can't cook so I hope you don't mind pizza" he says opening up the pizza box that was also on the coffee table

"Thank you" I take the plate off Jay

"I know this isn't the best date, and I will take you on a proper one..."

"Jay, it's perfect" I kiss his cheek before tucking into the pizza. Jay puts the TV on and we cuddle watching a movie.

For the first time ever I arrived at Jays place and leave that night, not having had sex with him.

#jay halstead x yn #jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x oc #one chicago imagine #chicago pd

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quietwingsinthesky · 2 months

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38 for the Master and/or 39 for Even? Up to u what qualifies as disturbing :3

what the fuck lee. (<- appreciative)

so here is. 4000 words. of that. unedited, right now, because it is nearly midnight and i've been writing for. well, let's see, you sent this six hours ago so. let's say four-ish hours? and with any luck. this thing that i have created is 👍. that's all i want. i need it to be 👍. anyway. pokes him.

Even has decided they don't like deserts.

It isn't a hard decision. No matter how well they believe they've covered every inch of skin while they trudge through the sand after the Master, Gallifrey's twin suns still find the gaps and cook them to a deep, stinging red. The goggles meant to protect their eyes are too tight, digging into their sunburnt cheeks, but they're still a better option than having to wipe the grit out to see every five minutes. They're soaked in sweat under their clothes, sore from head to toe, and the only thing they can be glad of, if anything, is that the Master is just as miserable as they are.

They don't know why he wanted to come here. He'd dragged them all the way out to that abandoned shack, as though he was expecting something. Whatever it was didn't come to him. They'd at least had some shade under the rotting wooden roof, watching him with their head against the wall and their watch between their fingers. It had been very warm, but that wasn't surprising, given the climate. (Though they'd kept it beneath their robes, lest they risk accidentally burning their fingertips on hot metal when they went to play with it.) Now, he's dragging them back out to their TARDIS—too paranoid about a completely empty stretch of sand to park closer to their destination. Even can make out her shape. The goggles are tinted darker than Even would have liked, but the rise of bone from the sand is impossible to miss, some long-decayed Gallifreyan megafauna for them to crawl inside of.

He's too quiet. It puts them on edge. Out here, it might be understandable, but he'd snapped at and shut down any attempt at finding out what they were doing out here before they'd set out, been almost completely silent at that old building, and they doubted he'd be any more talkative once he was back inside their TARDIS.

And there's tension in his neck. A twitch that won't go away in his arm. However quick his feet fall, they hit the sand too hard, a constant, rhythmic thud that's only aggravating him more.

They look out across the desert and see nothing. They don't know what he's seen out here.

They can guess hazard a guess as to what he hears, though.

They tuck their head down and focus on setting their feet down in the footsteps he leaves behind. It passes the time better than watching the slow approach of the carcass that camouflages their vehicle.

That's why they notice the patch of sand that doesn't match the others. It's dark. The grains don't flow with the wind the way everything around it does. Too much of it is moving.

"Stop." He doesn't, and they can barely hear themselves through the fabric keeping the lower half of their face out of the sun. They yank it down. "Stop!"

That time, at least, they know he just isn't listening.

His foot goes down into the sand, sinks as he tries to recoil from the instability, and then the sand starts moving up his leg.

It's not a Dalek, which is good, and it's not something worse than a Dalek, which is better. Their minuscule bodies glitter in the harsh sunlight brightly enough that Even can see each one easily through their goggles. There are dozens of them digging themselves out of the sand, scurrying up towards the Master's leg. A few of them cling onto the outside of his clothing, and he's able to shake those off. Others go beneath. Even loses track of them.

The Master lifts his arm. Even's not sure what he's about to do, but they take the opportunity he's given them to duck and slip underneath it, grabbing his hand so that he'll hold onto them. They have two feet to brace compared to his one. His fingers dig into their shoulder harshly, and they grip his hand tighter in return as they pull, once, twice—he hisses between his teeth like they're threatening to yank his arm out of its socket—and with one final lurch, he comes free. The sudden momentum sends them both spinning, and though Even lets him go to try and catch their own balance, he doesn't, pulling them down the dune with him.

Each tumble leaves their sides aching. They spit sand dry from their uncovered mouth, enough that they regret bothering to warn the Master at all. It gets under their lips, against their gums, and there's nothing they can do about that but shove it to the side to deal with later. They get traction, turning as they roll to grasp out at the shifting dune and drag themself to a halt. They don't roll as far as he does. Even gets their knees under them. The sand is so hot that they can feel it beneath their palms, through their gloves. They suck in a breath, only to choke on it, hot grains flying freely down their airway. By the time they've managed to gag up a pitiful amount of saliva from the back of their throat, they look up to see the tiny, shining things moving together like a snake through the sand towards them.

Even carries the weapons, as they carry the water. To reach for their gun is almost comforting in how familiar it is, from the weight to the notches their fingers find to grip it to the way it wakes up in their hands as they aim.

The sound it makes when they fire is just as familiar, though it lingers in their ears with different ghosts. Exterminate, their mind echoes when nothing else supplies the sound. (Certainly not the long-destroyed owner they'd peeled the foundation of their weapon off of.) Their lips part slightly, the first syllable curling their tongue- And then the shot lands with a burning crackle at the head of the illusory snake. It breaks apart, scattering bodies across the sand, some burrowing immediately to get away from the fire that catches briefly against the sand. The blast area is charred black. They can't tell if that's the sand or the tiny…

"What were those?" they ask the Master, tipping their head back towards him. The calm feeling that follows a successful shot shrinks away. At first, they think he's seizing, but his movements are too coordinated. He's trying to strip his clothes away from his leg, and the skin he reveals is crawling with the things.

Or bleeding. Why is he bleeding?

Even shakes their head before they skid down the rest of the dune towards him. When they touch him, he snaps his head in their direction, teeth bared and eyes wild with as much fear and anger that can fit in them. Even freezes like prey should.

The Master squeezes his eyes shut. He gropes for their hand, haphazardly slapping their weapon from it. It lands in the sand, forgotten as he drags them in closer. "Kill them," he coughs. There's sand sticking to every bit of his face that's exposed. "The ones that haven't burrowed-"

They hate that word, suddenly. "Hold still!" they snap back, pulling their hand out of his grip. He tenses up. Their heart pounds hard in their skull, right at their temple. The things are wriggling across his skin, and they see one- The tint of the goggles makes it hard to tell when they're in the shadow cast by Even's own body, but it stops moving, squirms, and then the Master's skin breaks around it as they realize too late where it's going. Even's stomach clenches. The Master makes a painful whine in the back of his throat, leg convulsing.

They don't know what else to do. They slap one of the things. There's a crunch underneath their palm. They draw it back, and that one isn't moving.

They hit another one, and the Master bites down on a scream. It's his skin they're striking to get at the creatures.

Are they alive? Their bodies don't come apart when they cease to move, no matter how hard Even hits them. A leg breaks off of one of them, but they don't burst like a body that small should. They don't leak any fluid onto their gloves or the Master's skin.

Even kills them, one by one, not nearly fast enough to stop more from digging into him. He can feel where the things are crawling and can direct Even's hands, but the Master can't catch any of them fast enough without seeing them, without being distracted by the rest making their way deeper into his flesh.

The sand is littered with tiny broken bodies. Even doesn't have time to examine them. "Get up," they tell him. His head rolls back against the sand, expression contorted with pain. Even doesn't wait for him to listen. They pick up their gun and stow it. They get on one knee, their heel sinking slightly into the sand as they get ready. They haul him up into a sitting position. He protests that with a hiss between his teeth, which they ignore. "Get! Up! I need to fix you!" They're grateful that of the two of them, they weigh more. It's still a struggle to pull him up to his feet. They don't think they could carry him outright, but if he can do even a little of the work, they can stumble the rest of the way to their TARDIS.

The Master tries to take too much of his own weight. He screams.

Even winces. They adjust their grip on him until he's slumped against them, his head knocking theirs as his heavy inhales ring in their ear.

"I said to stop," they whisper, very quietly. They're pretty sure he doesn't hear them. That he can't hear anything but his own breathing.

They lumber the final stretch to the TARDIS like a three-legged beast. The Master staggers more than he steps, and Even shoulders the unsteady burden of him as best they can.

They between two ribs, and their foot hits the floor of their TARDIS rather than more sand. They drag the Master forward a few more feet before they finally let him slip away from them. He doesn't scream this time, but they still hear the sound that could have been one as its strangled to death in his throat.

They can't move. They have to, but they can't look away from his collapsed body, shaking with pain. Not until the Master's voice scrapes out of his raw throat and breaks whatever was holding them in place. "Tweezers." Even nods. "Keep one alive. I want to see it. Kill the rest, and don't let them touch you."

Even wants badly to discard the outer layers they're wearing, but they don't. They'll take whatever protection they can get.

The Doctor's TARDIS had a very well-stocked medical chamber. Theirs is not, but it keeps them alive. (And they have the feeling it still would have been thousands of years more advanced than anything Earth had access to, at the least. Some medical technology doesn't change, however. Like tweezers.) Even will probably help him into it later, once the active threat is gone and he still needs patching up.

They bring a box with them. It did have something else in it, but they turned it upside down and dumped its contents on the floor. It's a box for specimens now.

The Master is not dead when they get back. They let out a breath. He's propped himself against a wall, working to expose each of the bleeding intrusions. Even counts thirteen of them.

They sit in front of him. He's knocking his head back against the wall. They try not to count out the beats, head down to work.

There are three in his torso, and they hope those are the most shallow. They had to crawl further than the others to get there. Even swallows back nausea imagining the tiny bodies clawing and digging deeper into him. They rest a hand against his sternum to keep him still, the beat of his skull against the wall the only thing they can hear as they concentrate. The tweezers widen the hole the thing had made slightly. The Master's mouth twists. Even wants to drag their hand through their hair, but both are too busy to allow it. The tweezers slide deeper, grasping at nothing at first. Deeper, deeper, and Even thinks they have something. It's bumping the end of the tweezers, something they hope means that whatever is at the end is moving on its own. They squeeze the tweezers a few times until they catch hold. Even drags it back out gingerly.

They pause to look at the thing. It's sort of like a bug, with a fat, bullet body cased in black and flailing legs, covered in slick blood. It looks vaguely familiar to them, but they can't place it. Then again, most bugs look the same to them. They put the first one they retrieve in the box and shut it in.

Again, they delve inside him. The Master begins to whine again, but this time, the noise doesn't stop, just rises and falls as they dig around for the bug.

"Distract yourself," Even urges. "Talk at me." The Master pushes a breath out between his teeth.

He shoots a hand out. The movement jars Even's arm and jabs the tweezers into something inside him that makes him squirm. They manage to get a hold on the next bug. It struggles against them as they pull it free from his belly and slap it against the ground, crushing it under their foot for good measure. The metallic crunch they heard before is even louder that time.

The Master curls his fingers twice, jerking his hand towards the box. Even pauses to give it to him. He can see the bug safely through the translucent sides.

His brow furrows, this time in more concentration than pain as they go digging for the third bug.

"I don't know what that is," he finally says. "It's not organic?"

"Not organic. Doesn't bleed," they answer.

"It's almost shaped like a sand beetle." He tilts the box. "Too short, I think. The coloring is wrong. It might be enough to fool someone else. Not anyone who spends their free time in the drylands, but who would ever go there voluntarily?"

We did, Even doesn't say. They're too focused now, and they don't want to break his train of thought and risk him dropping away from speech into more awful noises. He's stopped beating his head so hard against the wall.

"I don't think they were meant to be there, or we would have seen more of them." He shuts his eyes briefly. "Or not now. Not yet. Not anymore." He squeezes them shut tighter, his whole face wrinkling around the force of it. "You have no idea what it feels like when time is breaking and reforming around us!" he snaps at them, volume rising out of nowhere. Even shrinks back, eyes narrowed at him, but they don't stop digging for the bug. "It's all deteriorating, with us inside! I don't-" He cuts himself off, sucking in breaths hard and fast as Even grabs for the bug, hits something, and then only pulls free one broken leg of it.

"No. Talk." He's shaking again. "Talk!" They force the tweezers back into the same hole. They get the body of the bug this time. they pull it out.

"I don't know what it is," he says, quiet again. "I left. I left before it got worse. So I don't know what it is, or who made it." Even straightens his leg out to dig in his thigh for more bugs. "Or maybe it isn't from the war. Maybe someone's science fair project got out."

"Science fair projects don't kill people," Even says. "They're… bananas. I think." They try to cast their mind back to when they heard about that, and they think that's what the Doctor said they were. "You plug batteries into them." The Master's leg twitches as they pull another bloody hunk of bug out of him.

"Not at the Academy." Their eyes flick up to his face, but his are closed, his hand resting over them. The box with their living specimen rests on his stomach, the thing inside angrily twisting and clicking away to no avail. "Well, xenobiology, maybe, but you would never win anything if you were playing with something from Earth."

"Don't all the children win at a science fair?"

"Not," the Master repeats, "at the Academy." (Even mouths the phrase themself, very quietly, because it feels wrong for it to only be repeated once.) He pauses. "I'm sure wherever taught you gave you plenty of little fake metals so that you felt like you were worth something."

Even crushes another bug. Only a few more. The Master looks slightly dazed when he opens his eyes, staring up at nothing.

They stare down at the bloody tweezers for a moment, considering their words.

"I didn't go to school," they offer.

"I'm not surprised. The Doctor enjoys when you're all so easily impressed."

Even was going to tell him more.

They glare at him instead before shoving the tweezers in again. The Master jerks hard enough that his head cracks back against the wall.

Soon, they're surrounded by tiny broken bugs. Even has to help him back into the guts of their TARDIS, to the medical chamber where he'll be able to heal the rest of the damage or tell them how to. Only once as they make their way down does Even turn their head and shove their nose against his neck. They breathe in deep. He just smells like blood and sand and sweat. His cells are staying exactly the way they are. Nothing burns. They did a good job. They relax.

They aren't sure what he does with the specimen they pulled out of him.

~~~~~

He only thinks of sending them something after he gets 'fired.'

The problem being, of course, that at that exact point in time, he's not sure where Even would be. He considers investigating St. Paul's Cathedral, but however small the chance is, the idea of running into herself-

He thinks about it one last time: walking up to them, perhaps as they're peering through the water like they could see the cybermen inside, watching the refracted light play off the 'uniform' she'd picked out for them to wear, and he would say…

He would say...

In the end, there's an easier time, an easier place. One of the benefits of time travel: he never pays for postage, and his presents always arrive when he means them to.

-----

"You're thinking about it," Even says, kneeling down in front of the coffee table to do the puzzle they laid out on it. Rose had told them to do it on the kitchen table instead, but they hadn't wanted to use up the space. Their legs feel numb now. They keep delaying the painful restart of pins and needles. "Torchwood?" they look up at Rose. She's sprawled over the couch, chewing on her nails, brow furrowed. Even wonders if that's because of the conversation or because she's starting to taste the nail polish she's chipped off. Even hates how nail polish tastes more than they hate how it smells.

"It's not the same, I know that," Rose says. Even tilts their head. "This universe, I'd have Jack watching my back, and I think I'd take that over anything." She pauses for a moment. "It's weird, though. It's almost like he doesn't want me there."

"…He asked," Even says, slowly, unsure what she means. If Jack didn't want her, he wouldn't offer at all, right?

They turn the puzzle piece in their hands over and over. They don't like the texture of it. They drop it, and their hands inevitably fall back to the watch, still strange in its warmth, its various edges not fully memorized by their fingers. They play with it absently.

"I think he felt bad for me." There's a tone of voice Rose uses when things hurt, and Even isn't supposed to poke at them. Or, not Even specifically, but they think other people recognize the tone better and they were the one who had ended up poking too much before they started listening for it.

They still want to ask, but they keep their mouth shut instead.

"There's UNIT," they say. "…Martha works with UNIT." Rose smiles at Martha's name.

"Or I could go back to school," she says. "Get myself a degree in…" She trails off, then shakes her head. "Anything I want."

Even frowns. They squeeze the watch. They thought this was a choice they were both making. They hadn't considered Rose might want to go somewhere they couldn't follow.

"I don't want to lie to him," Rose says.

"But we are."

"Then I'm not adding more on top of it." Rose sits up. "Maybe. I don't know." She squishes the side of her face against her hand and then lets it slide down, turning her head to look at Even over the tips of her fingers. Her eyes flick down at the puzzle, back to the piece Even is stuck on, and after a few moments, she says, "Pretty sure it goes on the top right." Even looks right. "Other right." Oh. There it goes. "Yeah."

"You love him. It's okay." They aren't sure if that's the right thing to say. Rose's small smile wavers for a moment, her eyes cast down.

"I do." Even opens their mouth to find something better to say, something right that'll help Rose. The Doctor would know. He'd have the right words. Even never does. Instead, they can both hear a door open and close, the flash of the sound of the rain outside, shuffling footsteps, and Rose says, "Can't miss a chance to be part of a conversation about him, can he?"

"You're talking about me?" The Doctor-

John, Even corrects, loudly, inside their own head. John. John.

Too loud. It slips out. "John." He grins at them. They say his name twice more. Rose starts to give them an odd look before it smooths out like she's remembered something, and he doesn't react at all. He's too busy running a hand through his hair like he can get the water out of it that way.

"Told you to bring an umbrella," Rose says. She looks at John the way she looks at no one else, Even thinks, save the Doctor, who isn't here to be looked at.

"I know, and you're always right." Rose sticks her tongue between her teeth when she smiles at that. John holds something up. "You've got mail, Even," John says. The package is small and slightly soggy. "Who do you know from… Australia? There's no name on it." He sounds perplexed, but Even's heart skips a beat.

"No one," they answer truthfully, because that means there's only one person it can be. Rose knows the moment they say it.

"Open it," she says, quick, as excited as Even feels. Even tries to get up, but their legs don't work. They flop to the side, kicking them out and scrunching their face up as their legs wake up. Luckily, John takes pity on them, bringing the package over to the coffee table and placing it in the middle of their unfinished puzzle. It doesn't touch any of the pieces.

Even tears it open with the two of them watching.

There are two things inside.

There's a very small card. Even turns it over, squinting. They always have trouble with handwriting. "'Thinking of you,'" they read, slowly.

"Is it signed?" Rose asks.

Even's frown deepens. "Maybe?" They hand the card over to Rose. She peers at it for a minute. John does, too, leaning against her and laying his chin over her shoulder.

"That could be a D," Rose says, hopefully, at the same time that John says,

"That's definitely an O."

Even is already pulling the other object out. It's a small… rock. It's beautiful, orange and shiny. They turn it, and with a slightly better view, they can see something inside it. They tilt it another way for a better look. "It's a bug."

"A bug?"

"A bug." They trade again, and when Even looks at the card a second time… Rose is right. It could be a D.

Why not Doctor, though? Why not… more? Something aches in Even's chest, and they curl up slightly. They wish he'd said anything else. Why is he thinking of them? What's the rock? Or the bug? Where'd he get them? Is he coming to visit? Will he ever come to visit?

He promised he'd visit.

"You alright?" Rose says. Even looks up, ready to tell her they're okay. She's not looking at them, though. She's looking at John. He's gone still and pale staring at the bug trapped inside its rock. Rose holds it back out to Even, and they take it, unsure of what to do with something that scares the- That scares John. Who may not remember why he's scared of it, but if he is… Even looks down at the bug again. It's trapped. It looks harmless. Whatever it is would have suffocated a long time ago. It can't hurt them.

They don't even know why they're thinking about that. The Doctor would never send them something dangerous.

John swallows. He inhales shakily.

"Fine," he manages. "I don't know why I- Sorry." He shakes himself. "Sorry. It's nice. Very… very pretty."

He doesn't like it, so Even doesn't like it.

They can't get rid of it, though. The Doctor did send it. The card, eventually, gets lost, much easier than the amber does. They just tuck it away somewhere they don't have to look at it. It's still there the day they leave home and don't come back.

They don't have much time to ask the Doctor why he sent it the next time they see him.

And by the time after that, they barely remember it at all.

Which is probably for the best. It isn't like he could have answered with anything but, "I never sent you a package."

#this is. the most substantial thing i've ever written for Even. holy shit.#this baby's got everything we got actual stomping around on gallifrey in the time hell bubble. we got even cohabitating with rose and tento #we got timey-wimey fun and codependent bullshit. everything anyone could want.#<3 thank you dearly for the opportunity to ramble on like this #but also oh dear lord. wh y.#dw oc #ask #fanfiction #doctor who

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