#i am guilty of this a little i think a couple year ago BUT. you guys. come on now.

[captainfern]

Breed

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Breed” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary – you and price meet up off base. you fuck lol. • rating – 18+ [mdni] • wordcount – 4.6k • warnings – fem!reader, praise kink, breeding kink [i'm being so fr it's in bold], unprotected piv, oral [f!receiving], price is a whore for you <3, strong language

(let me know if i missed any warnings! ok hope you like <3)

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You had been off base for all of four hours.

It was supposed to be a weekend away from your colleagues and the cutthroat environment of a military job. You planned on enjoying a peaceful couple of days with the company of excessive amounts of alcohol, a spa, and that one situationship you had been dealing with for the past year.

So now, before your holiday even begun, you were already regretting even leaving.

You sat in a quaint little bar: complete with all the bells and whistles to make it seem like a 1920’s speakeasy. The light was dim, settling the room in a golden ambiance, as people conversed with each other, nursing crystal tumblers of dark liquor or caressing the thin neck of martini glasses.

You reclined into the plush leather sofa beneath you, a glass of— as the familiar bartender described it— your usual in your hand. You swirled it around your glass, watching the liquid slosh against the sides as your “situationship” rambled on about something (you had stopped paying attention five minutes ago).

“I mean, he drove to work in a Porsche and I drove a Jaguar,” Max downed the rest of his beer. “I think we both know who has the superior taste in cars, don’t we?”

“Mhm…” you hummed, taking a sip of your drink.

Max had never been the most interesting person— hell, he was actually really fucking annoying. His only redeeming quality was that you could fuck him and not feel guilty about leaving the next morning. Convenience, really.

Max peered at you over the rim of his pint glass, cocking his head to the side as he placed it back onto the table. “Something on you mind?” He asked, sounding genuinely worried.

You looked up at him, slightly startled. “Oh, no, sorry. It’s just been a long day—”

“Okay, great, now can I finish my story?”

You blinked at him as he continued, rambling on with no real punchline to his story— he was just trying to make himself seem richer. At this point, you were cringing. Embarrassing.

After a while of putting up with… whatever the hell Max was even talking about, you excused yourself. You popped to the bathroom, drawing out the process of washing your hands by a good five minutes, before reluctantly exiting the bathroom.

You collided with a wall.

Well, it wasn’t a wall. The wall was a man.

The body you crashed into immediately steadied you: two strong arms wrapping around your upper body, pressing you gently to a taut abdomen. You gasped out as the wall, smelling strongly of bergamot orange and whiskey, settled your firmly on your feet and held you within arms reach. Large hands gripped your shoulders, completely enveloping them.

You screwed your eyes shut, waiting for a drunken insult of some kind. “Shit, I am so sorry—!”

“Sergeant?”

You looked up, locking eyes with your captain. Captain John Price, the man responsable for leading your taskforce.

“Captain? I… I am so sorry.” You rambled, taking a step out of his reach and fidgeting nervously with the hem of your shirt. “I wasn’t looking where I was going—”

He laughed, deep and melodic. “S’all right, love. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“No, sir.”

“Oh, none of that crap,” he smiled, nudging you softly. “John’s fine. Or Price, if you really prefer it.”

You nodded, hiding a small smile. “Alright, Price.”

Price looked you up and down, taking in your attire and the way you had dolled yourself up. He let a small smile fall onto his lips as he leaned back against the standing-table he was situated at, elbow across it.

“Who’s got you dressed all nice, love?”

You rolled your eyes. “I was meant to be on a date, but it isn’t going well at all.”

His smile faded. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing major,” you said with a shrug. “Just an old… friend. He loves to talk about himself, and he hasn’t asked about what I’ve been up to since I got here.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Two hours.”

Price let out a low whistle, shaking his head slowly. “Sounds like a right arsehole, that one. Why don’t you just head on home?”

“I’d feel guilty—”

“You kill people for a living, sergeant,” Price quipped, grabbing his whiskey tumbler and raising it to his lips. “I doubt you’d feel guilty about leaving this tosser.”

You watched him take a sip of his drink, licking the liquor off his lips as he placed the tumbler back down. You sighed, realising that he was probably right, before squaring your shoulders and setting a determined look on your face. Price laughed at your expression.

“I’ll tell him I’m leaving.” You said.

Price chuckled, giving you a wink. “You go do that, love.”

You left Price and crossed the bar, to where Max was sitting on the couch, smiling at his phone. He was typing fast, and didn’t even look up when you cleared your throat to get his attention, now standing just a few feet from him.

“I’m leaving,” you said simply. “Thanks for… the company, I guess.”

Max looked up, shutting his phone off and shoving it into his pocket as he got to his feet. “Are we not gonna fuck?”

The words leaving his mouth sounded horrid, and you withheld a grimace at his desperate tone. You shook your head, “No, we’re not.”

He scoffed. “So this has been a complete waste of time, then?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded as he shoved past you and vanished out the door. He left you with the bill and, not only that, but he was your ride— and you heard the unmistakable sound of his Jaguar revving it’s engine and tearing off down the street.

You blinked, dumbfounded, at the door, trying not to let the stinging of embarrassed tears fall from behind your eyes. With a frustrated sigh, you were about to head to the bar and pay when Price stopped you, walking into your path.

“Come on, love. I’ll take you home.”

You shook your head adamantly. “Price, no, I’ve gotta pay—”

“I’ll put it on my tab,” he said simply. “Now, come on. I’ll take you home since that fuckwit wants to leave a lady stranded here.”

He ushered you gently out the door, a large, warm hand on your lower back. He didn’t let you protest: he just simply guided you out into the chilly night air. His body heat was warm against your back as he led you towards his car. His smell was intoxicating. You had the sudden urge to just whirl around and rub yourself all over him, collecting his scent like a cat.

Um, what the fuck— suddenly crossed your mind.

When you both reached his car, he opened the passenger door for you and allowed you to slide into the seat, before closing it and moving to the other side, clambering into the driver seat and slotting the key into the ignition, the car rumbling to life.

Once out onto the main road, he cast you a quick glance, both hands on the wheel, running his thumbs along the seam of the wheel’s curve. “We’re you staying?”

You gave him your address, and he raised a brow. “A penthouse suite, eh? We are clearly not being paid the same.”

You laughed, warm in his car. You smelt that same scent of bergamot citrus and whiskey floating through the car. It was tainted with cigar smoke and mint. You wanted to get the smell tattooed into your fucking brain.

The drive to your flat was comfortable. You talked with Price as though he was an old friend and not your boss. He seemed to enjoy your company, too: sparing subtly glances in your direction whenever you laughed, or whenever you got particularly excited when telling him a story. His eyes twinkled.

A few minutes later, Price had pulled up outside your building, killing the engine and hopping out of the car. You went to protest, but he moved and opened your door, beckoning you outside with a small wave of his hand.

“I’ll be walking you to your door, sergeant,” Price said, almost sternly. “I’m a man of my word. I said I’d take you home, so I will.”

Ignoring the heat in your cheeks, you allowed him to gently lead you across the foyer and into the lift. You hit your floor level and as the doors closed, you suddenly became aware of how close you and Price were to one another. You could feel his body heat. You could feel the gentle brush of his chest against your back every time he breathed.

Maybe it was the small amount of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you suddenly felt hot. Like, underwear getting wet kinda hot. In the corner of the lift, you shifted your legs, pressing your thighs together as the lift travelled upwards.

No way you’re horny right now, you thought as the lift doors opened.

You were quick to depart, hurrying down the hall and reaching your door in record speed, fumbling to get the keys out of your purse. You felt Price sidle up behind you. When you finally got the door open, you pushed it and stepped into the doorway, flicking the light on before turning and looking up at Price.

“Thank you so much for bringing me home,” you said sincerely. “And I am genuinely sorry if I ruined your night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You didn’t ruin my night. I’m always here if you need me, love.”

You bit your lip. The way he said that was way to hot for the way you were feeling right now. You could feel the flush creeping up your neck, and it seemed that Price took notice.

He cocked his head to the side, appraising you. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, reaching a hand out and placing it heavily on your arm. It was a solid form that was warm and strong and you had a sudden urge to just bite it.

What the fuck.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay.” You said. Liar.

Price raised a brow, looking at the way you squirmed under his gaze. Now, he wasn’t stupid by any means— he could read your body language like a book and it made a triumphant smile flicker across his face.

He shifted the hand on your arm and dragged it to your chin, gripping it carefully and lifting it, forcing you to look up at him.

“What do you want, love?”

You blinked at him.

He tutted. “Don’t get shy on me now, sergeant. Tell me what you want. What’s getting you all worked up, huh?” He stroked your jaw, your cheek, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “You like the way I talk to you? You like when I call you love?”

You let out a quiet whimper, nodding. He smiled down at you, leaning in as though he was about to kiss you. But he stopped, mint and whiskey laced breath fanning across your face.

“Use your words when you speak to your captain.”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hummed, pleased. “That’s a good girl.” And then pressed his mouth to yours. It was possessive— his tongue breached past your lips, plunging desperately into your mouth as you tried to keep up. You wound your arms around his broad shoulders, sliding fingers into his hair and gripping the strands. He groaned into your mouth, pushing you further into your flat without breaking the kiss.

He slammed the door shut and locked it blindly, opting to move you around and slam your body up against it. He cupped your jaw with one hand, shifting his other to run down your side, brushing over your hip and settling on your upper thigh. He squeezed it as he slid one leg between yours, jutting his knee upwards and pressing it against your clothed core.

You let out a strangled whimper, choking on the possessive nature of the kiss as Price pressed your body against his knee, using the hand at your hip to help you move against it. You stuttered on a moan, breaking the kiss to take some short breaths, the pressure on your core alleviating the building sensations.

“This what you want?” Price grinned against your jawline, placing kisses there. “You want me to make you feel good, love?”

You nodded desperately, moaning out a pathetic “yes, sir,” before he was whirling you around and guiding you deeper into your flat. He eventually found your bedroom, and pushed you onto the bed. Your back hit the silken sheets, and he wasted no time in following you; pressing his body to yours and immediately reattaching his mouth to yours hungrily.

As the two of you kissed, he gently began to pry your clothes from your body. He slipped your shirt off, making quick work in popping off your bra. He moved down, planting kisses along your chest and across the swell of your breasts. He then drew his tongue, hot, over your right nipple before taking it into his mouth. You moaned loudly, huskily, gripping at his hair as he sucked. He moved to your left one, and repeated the process until you were a whimpering, needy mess beneath him.

After a moment, he leaned back and admired the hickeys he had created over your soft skin, running calloused fingers over them.

“This okay, love?”

You nodded, reaching up and looping your fingers around his belt. “Yes, sir.” You whined, finally managing to undo the buckle on his belt.

But he stopped you, gently pushing your hands above your head before he dipped down and kissed you again. The way he licked into your mouth made you squirm, fingers flexing beneath his strong grip. He released your arms, running his hands along the bare skin and all the way past your shoulders, over your breasts and along your sides.

His eyes never left yours as he popped the button on your pants, pulling them down your legs and throwing them across the room. When the cool air of your room hit, you realised just how wet you were— favourite pair of underwear, soaked through. Your face lit up in embarrassment as you felt Price’s eyes drift down your body.

“S’all for me?” Price uttered, finger skimming the edge of your underwear. He hooked his finger beneath it and let it go with a snap against the plush fat of your thigh.

You felt hot all over when you mumbled out a “yeah.”

“Yeah?” He pulled your underwear down your legs, dragging his hands heavily along your skin alongside it. Like your pants, he flicked your underwear across the room. Then, his hands were on your thighs and in the blink of an eye, you were flipped over.

Price lay on his back, arms wrapped around your thighs. You straddled his chest, hands resting on his pecs. Your fingers brushed through his chest hair as he looked up at you, an expectant look on his face. Your stomach flipped.

“Price…” You whined.

“Sit on my face, love.”

You hesitantly shook your head. “I don’t want to hurt—”

“Come on, darling,” Price drawled, tugging you forward. “You won’t hurt me.”

You let out a stuttered sigh as your thighs rested either side of his head, and you slowly sank your aching cunt down onto his face. You huffed out a load moan when he licked a stripe up your folds, before plunging his tongue right into your dripping heat. You snatched at his head, pulling his hair as your hips shifted against him— his nose nudging your clit, his tongue drawing animalistic sounds from your mouth.

“Price—!”

“That’s a good girl,” Price uttered against your core. “Ride my face, love. Take what you need.” He had an iron grip on your thighs, helping you rock yourself against his mouth. “Such a pretty, wet cunt. Tastes so fucking good.”

You moaned at his words. Your captain speaking to you like that with his face drowning in your cunt. What the fuck—

“P-Price…” You breathed. “Gonna… gonna come.”

He moaned against your cunt— the vibrations making that coil in your stomach tighten. He squeezed your thighs, running his tongue up your folds and swirling it around your clit, repeating this action a few times.

You felt yourself drawing tight, a thin sheen of sweat gathering across your bare skin. “Price—”

“I know, darling, I know,” he said. “Come for me. Come in my mouth like a good girl, yeah?”

“Yeah, fuck, Price—!” You came with a moan of his name, gushing into his mouth as your hips stuttered against his face. You felt him groan beneath you, tongue working you through your orgasm.

After a long moment, Price re-surfaced— shifting you carefully onto your back and hovering over you. You smiled hazily at him, seeing his beard slick with you, shiny. He hummed, pressing his mouth to yours.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you, sergeant?” He said into your mouth.

You could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. You hummed a response, too busy stroking his facial hair, feeling your own arousal sticky on your fingers.

When Price pulled back, his lips were flushed and his dark eyes glassy. His eyes scanned your face.

“Price?” Your thumb stroked his cheekbone.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He grumbled, deep and low from his chest. “Gonna let me fill this pretty cunt?”

Your eyes widened momentarily as he shifted his gaze down your body. You arched off the bed when his hands went back to travelling down your sides. He sat back on his heels, spreading your legs as wide as they could go, warm hands on your inner thighs.

He stared at your dripping core, and you watched him harden even more in his pants.

“Such a pretty cunt, eh, darling?” Price ran two fingers along your folds, collecting a shiny mix of your arousal and his saliva. He brought his fingers to your mouth and shoved them roughly passed your lips. “Tastes fucking heavenly, too.”

You choked on his fingers, moaning. Wrapping your tongue around them, you noticed his pupils dilate even more as he watched you.

“Jesus…” He pulled his fingers out, then began tracing them along your core again. He watched his fingertips slip between your folds, and then watched the way you writhed in anticipation each time his fingers skimmed your aching hole.

“Fuck, just— Price, please—” You warbled, body hot. You could feel your arousal leaking out of you, pooling below your arse on the bedsheets.

Price laughed lowly, before sinking two fingers into your desperate cunt, right up to the knuckle. You keened, a high-pitched moan filtering between your lips at the intrusion. His digits were thick, dragging against your gummy walls, stretching you open with obscene squelching noises.

He cooed at you as he added a third finger. “Take it, darling. Such a good girl taking all three, aren’t you? This pretty cunt’s so good for me. Just for me.”

You moaned and wiggled against the bed as he pumped three fingers inside you. You felt full, satiated. Your slick was dripping down his hand, his wrist and sliding into the hairs along his forearms.

“Making such a mess, and I haven’t even given you my cock yet…” Price drawled as you fluttered around his fingers, hips bucking.

“Price, sir, need you to fuck me.”

He didn’t relent the movements of his fingers, and you felt your second orgasm building strongly within you. He tutted, clucking his tongue as he thrusted his fingers into you. “Want you to come on my fingers first. You can do that, can’t you, love? Come all over my fingers before you can come on my cock.”

You whined, forcing yourself to nod and nod and nod as your orgasm towered over you, looming like a shadow. “F-fuck, m’gonna—”

The words died on your tongue as your orgasm ripped through you, a blinding pressure released from your abdomen. A wet gush of arousal flooded beneath you, and you felt it. As you shook, legs trembling, chest heaving, you heard Price chuckling to himself as he retracted his dripping fingers.

“Such a messy girl,” he mused. “Look what you’ve done.”

You used your remaining strength to look down at where he was— his shirt splattered with your arousal, wet dripping onto his lap. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but Price prevented you from shying away. He dragged himself up your body and placed kisses as he went— ending his exploration by settling a deep kiss to your mouth.

“You gonna let me fuck you now? You deserve it, don’t you? Been such a good girl for me, letting me eat that pretty cunt.”

Such lewd words coming from your captain’s mouth— a man of such impressive status and honourability— was slightly disconcerting. However, you couldn’t find into yourself to care, nor think about the HR nightmare the two of you were in the midst of causing.

All you were focussing on was ripping open your tear-lined eyes and watching as the captain— your captain— shed himself of his dress shirt and then his pants. When he pulled down his boxers, you literally tossed your head back and moaned, much to the amusement of Price— who chuckled lowly at you, gripping his cock at the base.

“Want it that bad, darling?” He mused, leaning forward to run the head of his cock up and down your glistening folds.

“Yes, fuck—!”

“Ask nicely,” Price placed a couple of soft kisses along the underside of your jaw. “Good girl’s ask nicely, don’t they?”

You whined out some pathetic excuse for a please, lifting your arms to thread your fingers into his hair as he hovered over you. His body was heavy against you: the weight of his cock firm against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

Price lined himself up with your dripping cunt, slowly pushing in. He released a low groan from the depths of his chest as his cock slid into your tight heat, your cunt fluttering around him. You joined him, breathing out panting moans as he sunk deeper and deeper.

With one final push, Price’s cockhead was nestled up against the plug of your womb, pulsing within you. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily.

“You feel… Jesus Christ— you feel so good, love. So tight around me,” his voice had a whiny undertone. “Can I move, darling?”

You nodded, full. It’s like you could feel him in your chest.

With a deep grunt, Price dragged his cock all the way out until the wet tip of him rested at your entrance— before he pushed back in roughly. You jolted, moaning as he set a pace that you hadn’t at all been expecting. You felt the need to be stabilised, your hands groping across his shoulders, down his back, along his arms. Your hands travelled down his torso, feeling the rigid planes of muscle and wiry hair.

Price panted in your ear. “Such a— fuck— such a good girl. Being such a good girl for your captain, darling. Making me— hngh— making me so proud.”

Your stomach and cunt fluttered simultaneously at the praise, eliciting a moan from both you and Price. He was truly fucking you into your bed: the mattress creaking along with the bed frame; the cushioned headboard knocking gently against the wall. Somewhere across your apartment, your radio was playing— you’d left it on before you left for the evening— and Breed by Nirvana was playing. Fitting for the occasion, considering—

“Fuck, gonna come in this tight fucking cunt,” Price groaned. “Gonna fill you up so good. Gonna stuff you full ‘o me.”

You writhed beneath him, back arching off the bed and aching nipples brushing against his chest. You were getting close, judging by the way that familial coil was tightening in the depths of your belly. Tighter and tighter as he fucked his fat cock harder and harder into you, deeper and deeper against your cervix.

A thin sheen of sweat lay across your skin, glowing. Price didn’t care, clearly, as he peppered kisses across your chest, sucking bites onto the base of your neck as he rutted into you, hips slamming against yours. You felt one of his large, warm hands slide from your waist and across your pelvis, settling a finger on your sensitive clit.

You whined, and he shushed your gently. “Take it, darling, take it. I know you can… come on.”

Price rubbed tight circles against the bundle of nerves as he fucked you, hitting that same spot within you that had you seeing stars behind your eyelids and whimpering his name repeatedly.

It only took a couple of seconds for you to reach your peak.

“Price, m’gonna come,” you gasped, trembling and snapping your eyes open. “Please, sir—!”

He groaned, gruff and pleasure-strained. “That’s a good girl, darling. ‘Course you can come. Come all over my fucking cock and show me how much of a good girl you are for your captain.”

Yeah, that was it.

You came, for lack of better words, violently. You legs shook, knees trembling as you arched your back off the mattress. Your body pressed tight to Price’s, his cock angling deeper as he fucked you through your post-orgasmic haze. Your breaths came in pants, face flushed and clit throbbing.

Price meanwhile was nearing his peak as well. He was fucking you into your silken sheets like a scene out of some kind of porno— large hands gripping at your waist, your thighs; eyes travelling hungrily down your body to where his cock repeatedly entered your tight hole. His cock was completely slick with you, his pelvis and lower stomach splashed and glimmering with your arousal.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” Price groaned, eyelids fluttering for a moment. “Come so deep in this cunt you’ll feel me for weeks— ruin you for any other man, eh, love? That fuckwit from the bar has nothing on me.”

You didn’t even have the energy to moan like you really fucking wanted too. Everything he was saying was going straight to your aching cunt, and it was probably sending you to an early ovulation. You felt like you craved him.

Price suddenly grabbed your hand, bringing it downwards to where his cock slammed into you. He pushed your fingers around your hole so that you could feel where his fat cock entered you over and over again. You moaned at the feeling, just as Price knocked your hand aside and folded you in half— pressing your legs up against your chest. A mating press.

He was huffing now, drawing near his climax as another one built within you.

“One more time for me, love.” He said and Jesus Christ you didn’t need to be told again.

Another orgasm overtook you before you knew it was there: drowning you and leaving you gasping as you gushed around him, hands gripping the back of his neck for support. You sighed out his name, airy and exhausted, as his thrusts began to lose rhythm.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he uttered. “So good for me. Now ‘m gonna fill this cunt so good— shit— fucking breed you nice and full. Might take, eh, love? You’d love that wouldn’t you? Love being all nice and fat with my kid, and I’d fuck you whenever you wanted— hngh, Jesus— give this needy cunt my cock whenever you wanted.”

These words were coming out of your captain’s mouth… Soap is never going to believe you.

Price let out a low, almost whimper of a sound as he thrusted sloppily a couple more times. “Take it, darling, fuck. Take my come. Fucking take it like my good girl. So proud of you.”

He came with a shudder and a deep groan: warmth flooding your insides and splashing deep into your cervix— helpful thanks to the fact you could feel him in your guts.

The both of you breathed heavily in tandem until his cock softened inside you and he pulled out carefully. His come oozed out of your hole, and he shoved it back inside with two fingers.

Price cleared his throat. “I’m gonna have to do a lot of paperwork to get us out of whatever mess we’ve just put ourselves in.”

You sighed. “Let’s not talk about work when you’re knuckle deep in my pussy.”

Price stopped talking, leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips.

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[thedarlingdearestdead]

Injured Soldier:

Summary: You were injured in battle, stuck in the hospital wing for days. About to get up and escape from your bed you are interrupted by the infamous General Skywalker. He is amused by your attempt and offers you a whole new kind of escape...

Warnings: MATURE, pretty shameless smut, R18, talk of violence.

Word count: 2,430

The medical bay had been your home for days following the attack on Bandomeer. You didn't remember the flight back from the battlefield, only the smoke and the rain, and the fiery agony when the shrapnel hit your abdomen. You were lucky to be here though, even if the sterile white lights kept your head in a constant ache, at least you were being medicated. 

You signed against your pillows, positively vibrating with energy and impatience. Surely your ribs had healed enough by now so that you could take a walk. The chamber was empty, Master Che had left about an hour ago, deployed to some other place where her talents were needed. You make the decision that she would be a while, and as such you could probably try to escape. 

Slowly, you edged up into a sitting position. Your head rushed slightly and your middle ached sharply, causing your hand to move and press against it. You let out a breath. It was not so bad...

Next was your legs, which you manoeuvred slowly off the bed one by one, swinging them around you stood up. Easy. Your balance was slightly weak so you gripped the side of your cot, looking around for some clothes. 

You had put on your old trousers, standing in your bra as you wrapped your wounds up with some gauze to keep them padded and covered, when the doors to the wing swung open.

Like a deer caught in headlights you turned to see the one, and only, General Skywalker. You did not know him well, being a couple years younger, but you knew him well enough as the rouge war hero. 

He raised an eyebrow at your guilty look, you movements to secure your bandages stopped.

"Going somewhere, soldier?" General Skywalker asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You bowed your head in respect, feeling a little embarrassed for being caught. "I was just going to take a walk, sir," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite your nerves. You felt exposed in your bra and trousers, the gauze sticking out like a sore thumb. You instinctively crossed your arms in front of your chest, feeling a flush creep up your neck. 

General Skywalker nodded, his piercing blue eyes scanning over your bandages. "I see. And has Master Che cleared you yet?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Master Che. You knew you were in trouble. You shook your head, feeling a pang of guilt for disobeying orders. "No, sir. I just needed to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. I'll be back soon." You assured him. 

General Skywalker's gaze softened with amusement as he stepped closer. "Those look like some nasty wounds." 

"I was on Bandomeer, sir."

His eyes drop to the floor. He had heard about the losses during that battle. "I commend you. It's L/N isn't it? Y/N?" 

"Yes sir." You say, surprised at his knowing of your name.

His mouth turns up sightly at that, an inexcrutable look passing across his face. "There's no need to call me 'sir'. Anakin, please." He nods across the room at you. 

You look down at your hand, busying yourself by securing the bandages and trying not to blush.

Anakin took a step closer to you, his gaze intense. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the magnetic energy he exuded. "Do you have any other injuries?" He asked, his voice soft and concerned.

"No, well only a few... These of course," you gestured downwards at yourself, "I fell after impact so there are a few cuts and scrapes but most of the damage was internal." You attempt to shrug but it comes off more as a wince. "I am not a natural fighter, General Skywalker." 

"I think you are a fighter," he says, his voice low and gentle. "You survived Bandomeer, after all. Not many can say that."

You feel your heart racing in your chest as you look up at him. There's something about him, something magnetic, that draws you in despite your better judgement. 

"Here," he says, passing you the shirt from atop the dresser. "I won't stop you. I always escape early too, I hate it here." 

You take the shirt gratefully, pulling it over your head and smoothing it down over your bandages. Anakin's eyes never leave you as you do so, and you feel a warmth spreading through your chest. You've never felt so seen before. 

"Thank you, Anakin," you say, testing out his name on your tongue. It feels foreign, but not uncomfortable. "I really was intending on returning, it's just been so dull staring at the ceiling all these days."

Anakin nods, stepping aside to let you pass. You feel a jolt as your arm brushes against his, and you look up to see him staring at you. 

There's a moment of hesitation before Anakin leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your ear. "If you're looking for some excitement, I could show you a few things," he murmurs, his tone shockingly suggestive.

Your heart picks up its pace as you look up at him, feeling a rush of desire washing over you. You know you should say no, that it's inappropriate and against the rules, but there's something about Anakin that draws you in. Something you can't resist.

Without another word, he takes your hand and leads you out of the medical bay. You feel confident making your escape with him. Like if you got caught you wouldn’t get in trouble, not from that at least. Your eyes didn't move from where he was grasping your hand. The two of you make your way down the corridors, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can't believe you're doing this, you don't even know him, but there's a sense of freedom in breaking the rules. Freedom that you had been longing for. 

Anakin leads you to a small side door, pulling you out with him into the fresh air. You breathe deeply, feeling the cool breeze across your skin. The night sky is clear, the stars shining down on you like little diamonds. You can't remember the last time you felt so alive. 

It was some kind of rooftop balcony which overlooked the entire city but shielded you from view.

He grins at you as the door closes. "So, you wanted to stretch your legs?" Anakin moves closer to you, his hand settling on your lower back as he guides you towards the edge of the balcony.

"Try not to move too much, you don't want to reopen your wounds," he warns, his voice low and husky.

You shiver at the sound of it, the desire pooling low in your stomach. Anakin's hands move up to your shoulders, pushing your hair aside to expose your neck. He starts by gently nipping at you from behind, pulling a small noise of surprise from you. He squeezes your hips slightly, pushing you forward gently onto the railing. Your head starts to swim, becoming overwhelmed with this turn of events. Never in your wildest dream did you think you could have Anakin Skywalker. 

You turn your head to meet his gaze and he leans in for a deep, passionate kiss, finally on the mouth. His lips are soft and warm against yours, his tongue sliding past your lips to explore your mouth. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Or you try to, one of your arms still couldn't extend so far upwards, you flinched but tried to push down the pain.

He tuts seeing this immediately. "Just be still, let me take care of you." 

Anakin's hands move down to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. You moan softly into his mouth, your body igniting with desire. The pain in your arm is forgotten as Anakin's touch leaves a trail of fire across your skin. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your jawline to your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him better access.

"I want you, Y/N," he whispers against your skin, his hands moving up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. "I can feel how much you want me too."

You gasp as he squeezes your breasts, the pleasure shooting through your body. You're embarrassed at how much you're enjoying this, but you can't help it. "Please," you beg, arching your back into his touch. Anakin grins, his hands moving down to your hips.

Without another word, Anakin turns you around and presses you up against the railing again. His hands move down to your hips, grazing your damaged abdomen and with care and pulling you closer as he grinds against you. You moan, feeling the growing bulge in his pants rubbing against your ass. Anakin's hands move up to your breasts again, his fingers continuing to play over your nipples through the fabric of his shirt. 

His knee moves to separate your legs, thigh providing friction where you need it most. 

"I want to fuck you so badly right now, Y/N," Anakin whispers into your ear, his words making you shiver. 

You watch as his hands move down to your hips again, his fingers hooking into the waistline of your pants and pulling them down. Turning to face him, Anakin's gaze was hungry as he looks you up and down. 

You felt him pressing against your stomach, causing you to shudder in anticipation. You reach down, unbuttoning the top of Anakin's trousers to expose his erection. He moans softly as your hand wraps around his shaft, the calluses of your palm making him shudder.

Anakin's mouth moves down to your neck, leaving a trail of warm, luscious kisses down your skin. You tilt your head back, gasping as you feel his teeth nip down your throat. He pulls you closer, his knee moves from in between your legs and he spins you around, your chest meeting the metal barrier. He pulled your ass back, stopping you from crushing your ribs and stomach. His breath hits the side of your neck, hot and heavy with lust. 

You feel the tip of his cock pressing against you, begging for entrance. You let out a deep moan as you feel him enter you, your body pulsing around him as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you. You try to relax around him, tried to let the pain pass but you still couldn't help but flinch slightly. 

Anakin stops moving for a second, "You alright?" He asks, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, I'm okay, just... go slow, please," you say, your voice breathy. Anakin's hands move to your hips, holding you in place as he moves in and out of you, your body slowly growing accustomed to his size. You let out a sigh of relief as he begins thrusting again, your body growing more comfortable with each passing second.

You can feel the pressure building inside you, your body tingling from the pleasure that it was getting. You moaned again, pushing back into him to meet his thrusts. 

Anakin's hands move up from your hips, resting on your breasts as he leans in to whisper into your ear, "You're so tight, Y/N," he groaned softly.

Anakin moves a hand down to your clit, rubbing his fingers gently against the nub. You let out a deep moan, your eyes fluttering shut. You were so close, all you needed was a little more. His other arm moves around your waist, holding you up as he ruts into you. Your body quivers, the pleasure more intense than anything you've ever felt before. You can feel him inside you, feel him filling you up. You could feel the pressure building inside you again, your moans becoming louder and louder.

You feel your body shake, your orgasm shaking your entire body as you come hard against his cock. Anakin stops moving for a second, letting you enjoy the waves of pleasure that crash over you, sucking at your neck. He thrusts into you again, and soon his own body shudders in delight. He buries his face into your shoulder, muffling his own groans of pleasure. He'd pulled out and was leaking onto the concrete beneath you both, whispering your name like a prayer. 

You sigh in content, your body tingling with pleasure as you lean forward onto the railing.

"Force, I needed that." He says after a minute. Zipping himself back into his pants. He sees your weakness and there is a flash of pride in his eyes as he eases you underwear and trousers back up your legs. 

"How do you feel?" You turn around slowly, wincing slightly as your abdominal muscles are pulled. He looks you over, concern pulling at his face, "Are you sure you're okay?"

You smile softly, "yeah, I'm okay, I think I should get back to the med bay though." 

"Of course, I'll walk with you." His manner was very casual now, he stood straight and put a hand on your lower back to guide you back to the halls. 

"You know, you're pretty good at that," you say to him with a smirk, making him blush slightly.

"At what?" He asks, his face turning a darker shade of red.

"The whole 'taking care of someone' thing."

He smiles, "You're not so bad yourself. You know, I came to the med bay because I needed something to help me calm down," 

"And have you?"

“Considerably,”  his shoulders were more relaxed than they had been when you'd first laid eyes on him, his gaze easier, lighter. 

The hall is busier than before, more people are flooding out of the hanger. They are all wearing grim expressions, you hear a few of them talking about another battle somewhere and see Anakin’s interest peaked. 

There is conflict in his eyes and you watch a veil come down, clearly back in General mode, he interrupts two talking nurses and asks about the incident quickly. Listening to their words and visibly steering himself towards the door to leave, to go help, he sends you a quick glance over his shoulder. 

"Get some rest L/N, it seems the war is not over yet." He nods at you, any other thoughts clouded by the urgency of his position. He leaves you standing in the med bay, brushing past a hassled Master Che whose eyes had found you standing over your bed. She was not well pleased with your state. 

[natailiatulls07]

Could you please do part two of first impressions, some other drivers reactions?

Formula one grid x female!driver!reader Male!OC x female!driver!reader

Summary - Being youngest on the grid meant that Y/n was heavily protected by many other drivers so when she gets a partner it's mixed emotions all around

Warning - Pushing someone into a wall??

Reader drives for Mercedes

Part one

-

Climbing up the stairs on the parade truck, Y/n heard someone just behind her calling out her name. Instantly recongising the voice, she turned to Charles with a smile.

Only to be met with a awkward smile in return. "Uh Y/n, so I heard from Carlos" Her eyes went wide, realisation evident on my face. "Noah huh?"

Nodding my head excitedly, suddenly feel really happy. "Yeah, he's my new boyfriend" The younger of the two blushing softly, only now feeling giddy and shy about the topic of the conversation.

Charles bursted into laughter, finding Y/n's giddiness hilarious. "Oh I have to meet him, Carlos said that he scared the poor thing" Laughter broke out between the two when they heard shout from down the stairs, it was the spaniard with a guilty smile.

"I'm sorry about that!"

The mercedes driver just waved him off, before replying to Charles. "Yeah he met Max after that so he was eager to prove himself" There was a pause where the two driver started to waved in to the fan in the crowds before Y/n spoke again. "But yeah of course, I'd love for you to meet him! He's a real gentleman!"

With a playfully shocked look on his face, the Monégasque turning to face his friend. "A real gentleman? I'll be the judge of that" A smirk on his face. "We only want the best for the sassiest and pickiest driver on the grid!"

-

They had finished the race just over a hour ago and most of the drivers were hanging around the paddock, most being told to stay back for media purposes.

Y/n was sat at the front of the Mercedes hospitality waiting and eating with Adam. The race was hard for her and hadn't been her best one yet. Leaving her disappointed that this was Adams first race.

"I'm sorry I wasn't the best today..." She took a pause to pick at her plate of food, avoiding any eye contact. "I wanted to be better for you"

The man sat across from her sighed before reaching forward gently grasping her chin. Forcing her to look into his eyes, the eyes that looked at her lovingly.

"Baby...you have to understand that coming seventh is great! And also I came here this weekend to see you do your passionate, I didn't come here particularly to see you stand on the top of the podium"

He brought their lips together in a sweet and delicate kiss. It was a sweet moment, there weren't many in the hospitality and it felt somewhat private. Until-

"Oh merde! I'm so sorry!" A familiar accent once again interupted. Charles, again.

The couple separated quickly, blush coating their cheeks after being caught in an intimate moment. Almost like two awkward teenagers being caught giggling together by a parent. "Am I interupting something?"

Laughter broke through Y/n and Adam, leaving the Ferrari driver scared and confused. It was only when she shook her head that he relaxed.

"No don't worry Charlie" They calmed themselves down before she introduced the two. "Adam meet Charlie and Charlie meet Adam, my new partner..."

Shaking hands, Charles decided to tease the younger man a little bit. "I heard you've been eager to prove yourself and been a gentleman to our little Y/n!" He paused as he smirked cheekily. "What's your intentions Adam? What's your five year plan? And how do you feel about classical music?"

"Charlie, stop it! You're just like Carlos!"

-

Charles was sat in the media centre waiting for his turn when Oscar approached him. The two had a media session together.

"Everyone saw you go to the Mercedes hospitality the other weekend, the press think you might be moving to Mercedes when Lewis leaves..." Oscar starts up a conversation

Turning to face the Australian boy, Charles almost gave himself wiplash. "What?! Really?" He was shocked by the assumption of a move from Ferrari. Shaking his head, he started to laugh as he realized how they came to that conspiracy.

"No! Gosh no, I was just meeting Adam" But only then did he notice how the Mclaren driver was now the one confused. Had he not known about Adam?

Oscars eyebrows frowned, genuine confusion on his face. "Adam? Who's Adam?" That's when Charles started to smirk, making him scared. "Charles, why are you smirking?"

"Adam is Y/n's new partner..." It was as if they were middle school again, and they were all very giddy and immature when it came to the topic of romance.

"Oh, she's finally found someone to handle her sarcasm and sassiness? I'll honestly say that I am surprised" Oscar know smirking, much like the Ferrari driver.

Once again, Charles nodded his head. Agreeing with the Australian. "Yep, I think we were all very surprised"

"Surprised? About what?"

The two drivers turned to see a confused Lando Norris approaching them. They were both unsure if they should tell the Brit but knew he wouldn't stop until he get the gossip.

After taking a deep breath, Charles told him. Soon the confused look on his face turned to one of fierce protectiveness. "Where are they?" Not wanting to get on his teammates bad side, Oscar pointed to the Mercedes hospitality and within seconds Lando was gone.

-

"This is your fault, I'm so fucking tired!" Y/n complained, resting her head on Adams shoulder whilst he had his hand gently resting on his thigh. "Totally your fault..."

He just laughed and playfully rolled his eyes, casting his mind back to the night before. "You wanted to try out those chocolate and you knew the consequences darling..." Paused thinking through his next words. "I'm glad we ate them, I had fun..."

Y/n gasped before lightly smacking his chest. "Adam! Shh we in the middle of my work place!"

She was about say something when Adam was ripped from her and he was pushed into the wall. Only then did she notice an angry looking Lando Norris staring him down.

"So you want to date her huh? What is it that you really want? To get into her pants? Her money? Fame? Gossip huh? What's your real intentions?" Everyone in hospitality were stood watching on in shock.

Continuing on, Lando kept shouting at him when he felt two people pull him back from Adam. Charles and Oscar were pulling him away and restraining him.

Rushing over to her partner, Y/n was quick to check if he was okay. And once she felt like he was okay, only then did she realise her anger towards Lando.

"What the hell? Lando! What was that?" She felt Adam rubbing up and down her arms, trying to calm her down. "And I thought Carlos was harsh, you fucking pushed him into a wall before he could even make a proper impression!"

After hearing how angry she was at him, Lando had realised what he had done. He was too focused on protecting Y/n that he didn't even give her partner a chance to prove himself.

So when he slumped softly, Charles and Oscar knew it was okay to let go of his arm. He brush a hand through his messed hair, sighing shamefully. "I'm so sorry, I just don't trust many new people. I've seen Y/n and other driver get hurt and used before"

Adam stepped forward towards the Mclaren driver, he had a small sympathic smile on his face. "Don't worry about it, I just want you to know that I love Y/n so much and I will continue to treat her the why she deserves to be treated" Sticking his hand, hoping that Lando will shake it and believe his words. "I promise"

A proud smile replaced the frown on Landos face as he started to shake the other hand. "You still have to prove yourself mate, but I'm sure you'll get there in no time"

Quietly behind Lando, Oscar turned to Charles whispering to him. "He's the one for her, I know it."

-

[the-fiction-witch]

Away

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Daemon Targaryen Couple - Daemon X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Niece, Viserys Second daughter with Aemma) Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1122

Y/n could barely believe the sights she was seeing, you'd think he had taken her to some magical realm not this dirty street in King's Landing. But Y/n had rarely been out of the red keep so this was a whole new world to her and she looked at it with wonder,

Daemon could sense her fascination. At this moment, she was a source of entertainment for him. His eyes drank it up. He wrapped her close under one arm, and guided her down the street, past the stalls and the drunks and the children shouting in pleasure and fear at the jugglers and tricksters and acrobats.

The young princess is beyond fascinated and she trusts her uncle likely more than she should, she stays within his grip giggling away with that wide innocent smile,

Daemon found her innocence adorable. She hadn't been corrupted by the capital or by the world yet, he squeezed her close by the shoulder. Your presence made him very comfortable and he began to speak, to bring up the matter he knew would upset her. "You know I won't be gone for long, sweetling." Then he kissed her head.

"but you always say that," she said almost childishly pouting as they walk, "you always say you won't be gone long and sometimes I don't see you for months, even years. And you only returned three months ago,"

Daemon smiled. 'She’s too cute.’ he thought, "That's true. But do you know why I was away for so long?" He asked.

"fighting a war..." She pouted,

"That's right, and what else?" He asked as he looked at her in the eye. "Wasn't I fighting to bring back the Targaryen legacy? Wasn't I trying to protect that in which our family has always believed? We Targaryen must never let anyone forget that we are superior to everyone else. Our blood runs in our veins with the blood of Old Valyria, of dragons."

"I know but... You were gone so long, you were away for three whole years. And you took all your men. Father just locked himself away with his new wife, rhaenyra of doing goodness knows what" she explained, "Everyone leaves me…” She sighed, “If you’re not here I'm always alone, locked away in my chambers, not even my king's guard protector will talk to me"

"I knew you were feeling sad for my absence, sweetling. How can I not feel love for a creature so gentle and beautiful like you?" Daemon kissed one of her cheeks and smiled, feeling guilty for keeping you alone. "Would you like to know about what I was doing in those three years?" He asked, knowing she wouldn't refuse.

"fighting I suppose," she chuckled a little,

Daemon chuckled seeing his little niece laugh. It was endearing to see her laugh that way. "Now I was fighting for Targaryen cause, just as you assumed. But it was more than just that. I was gathering supporters for your dear sister. No matter how the crown falls war is coming, other members of our family are merely too foolish to see it. I was preparing the ground for her rightful claim. I want the realm to recognize her claim above all others."

"a noble pursuit," she said slightly sadly,

"Does this sadden you, Sweetling?" he asked,

"I simply... Have no interest." She answered honestly as they walked through the streets, "My father is king, and in good health at least good enough to be attempting to sow more seeds with his new wife. You are off fighting wars and when in the city you are off leading the city watch into greatness. My sister preps for the throne as is her birthright. And as father has a son with his new bride it would be a fight between my sister and half-brother. I am... Irrelevant. A spare girl. In this world I am worthless and I have no doubt soon Father will sell me off to a noble house like Lannister or Baratheon for the sake of army numbers..."

Daemon listened intently Her words were wise and she was very mature. His protective instincts towards you kicked in full force as he heard her speak of this matter.

"You are not worthless, my sweetling. You have a dragon's blood in your veins. You are special. Your father can never sell you to a random Lord. You are a princess." he explained, "And besides, you are never worthless to me. You are my very special sweetling, you know that my little Y/n." He gave her a quick squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

"I know, but I worry Is all. One day you'll go away again and... Perhaps it'll be years before I see you again. Father will ship me to casterly rock, or storms end, or winter fell and I'll be away from everyone alone without any company at all....forced to... Squeeze out heirs of potential dragon blood,"

Daemon frowned. He hated the thought of her being shipped off to marry a boring lord who would just use her for their blood and nothing else. He felt jealous just by the thought of it. His eyes narrowed. "I won't allow that to happen, you know that." He said, his voice soft but with an edge to it, and he kept his voice so low that no one else could hear he took her by the arm and met her eyes with his,

"Father will wait till you go away again... Then he'll ship me off. No one but you would try and stop him"

"Don't worry. I promise that I won't allow your father to just marry you off like that. I would rather take to the sky on caraxes and burn the red keep to the ground than have you sent away to be some lord's babymaker." He chuckled, but he meant it. "You are far too precious for just marrying off somewhere. You are dragon blood. Valyiran blood. Targaryen.” He held her even closer, squeezing her close to his chest. "I will always come back to you and I will never let anybody hurt you or force you into something you don't want to do. Your father may be your King but I am your uncle, and I won't let anybody hurt my sweetling."

she squeezed him back even if it was clear she was frightened she knew her father had already been taking letters about betrothing her,

He found it heart-warming that she was so worried. It saddened him deeply and he felt a burning sensation in his blood, a fire boiling at the thought of her being used like a prize breeding mare and nothing more. "I know you have heard rumours about who your father wants to marry you off to but trust me, it won't happen. Not while I am here."

Part Two out now

[tarjapearce]

Bad Teachings (Pt. 8)

Older!Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: Slow Burn, Relationship Building, Mild squeeze of jealousy, daily snippets of life, strained parental relationship, gossips, awkward truths, friendly bickering, a little instrospection on main characters.

Summary: Rekindling things lead to new and unexpected discoveries.

Absolute thanks to my beta reader <;3 @oharasmommymilkers00

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated c: Masterlist Pt. 9

"So, how's it going? When did you return?"

Manicured hands clasped together, inviting Simon to keep talking. After your little impromptu reunion, you had texted him the next day, and between little jokes and mild flirting, Simon asked you on a date.

Let's catch up and see where it goes.

He had stayed the same since college. Ever straightforward and head-on with his words.

Even though the small restaurant bustled with people, you could still hear each other.

"Been alright. I was back a couple of weeks ago. I have been wandering the city to see any changes, but nah. The same. Can't say the same about you."

Your eyebrow arched at his words, which he quickly tried to explain.

"Not in a bad way! I swear! It just... took me by surprise seeing you so different. All I can remember is you wearing hoodies, jeans, or sweatpants."

Chuckling, you took a sip of your drink and pursed your lips.

"Had to get my glow up one way or another."

"What I'm trying to say is that you look fantastic."

"Thank you, Si. You look great as well."

And he did. Both of you had changed for the better. He used to be that average exchange student that was more remarkable for people making fun of his accent between lighthearted jokes and a bit of a chubber.

Simon was tall, but if it came to compare heights, he'd reach Miguel by the shoulders. He had to crane his neck up to meet his eyes. And now that he had been gone for nearly three years to pursue his dream of finishing his career abroad, he had changed physically.

Earning looks from the people as he walked by. He was handsome. But the goofiness and soft-spoken person he was remained the same.

Your glasses clinked as both of you enjoyed the talk.

His eyes remained fixed on your face with a guilty smile "I am sorry, though. For leaving so suddenly."

Your eyes widened softly at his words but quickly dismissed them.

"Are you kidding me? I would've done the same if I had a chance to study abroad with a scholarship, too. Don't feel guilty about it."

"I want to make things right and avoid any misunderstanding between us. Or for you to think I escaped from you."

You couldn't help but laugh and cover your mouth to tone it down.

"You say so like it was so bad and toxic!"

It was his turn to giggle.

"It was."

You gasped as he laughed while taking your hand.

"I'm joking, of course. I had fun those four months."

"Even though we barely had time in between classes?"

"Yes. I was so glad when we had to take that class together with... Miss Lyla, I think?"

"Oh! Office Automation. Yeah. Man, she was such a good teacher."

"She was unhinged."

You had to hold back an ugly snort as your cheeks reddened in laughter.

"She was. But I owe my job to her and Mi-... Mr. O'Hara." You swallowed, "That's what I do daily."

"I'm surprised you know Mr. O'Hara after all these years."

You've got no idea.

Your brow quirked nervously, and he leaned in towards you.

"Like, I heard so much about him back then, but I didn't know who he was, and when he introduced himself when I found you, it clicked. Didn't know he was that guy."

"That guy? What do you mean?"

Simon cleared his throat.

"I know this is an old story, but a couple of days before my dropout, I heard Miss Lyla and him were hooking up."

You blinked as little waves of confusion washed over you at this information. Even though Miguel had told you about his little affairs here and there, you didn't expect it to be with one of your favorite teachers.

"The things you learn. Like for real?"

"Yeah. I mean, both hooked a couple of times before he called it off, but don't believe me. The source was a girl that had a massive crush on him."

A little glint in your eyes shone as he mentioned Miguel stopping it.

"It makes so much sense now! She was one of the few teachers, along with Mrs. Drew, that you could see him being comfortable around enough to be more talkative."

You spoke, and he shrugged.

"I wouldn't know for real. I quit before the semester ended, and I never took classes with him remember? But damn, gossip was a thing."

"He was brutal."

"Oh, I bet. Mr. O’Hara looks quite intimidating. You passed?."

You laughed humorlessly

"I nearly fail. But I pushed through. He was demanding, but yeah."

"Right. College aside, are you still... y'know, living with your parents?"

"Oh no, no. I moved out. Mostly to be near my job."

"Great. I just moved in with my roommate as well. Nice guy, gives me his leftover pizza."

Both giggled and mocked at the silliness of the situation. It brought you back to times when you'd be holed up in the library, either talking or sharing quick kisses between studying sessions when you had the time to do so.

But right now, catching up with him felt good. Your social circle expanded in baby steps, which made you feel like a blooming social butterfly.

Simon's hand took yours to squeeze it softly with a charming smile.

"Wanna go for a walk?"

"Sure."

---

As days went by, your work grew more interesting. The new Bossman, Julius, was strict enough to make most of your coworkers work for real.

You had a couple of photoshoots redone since his eyes were as critical as his mouth. But you had not only learned. But apply those tricks to your arts and hobbies.

The knitting had improved despite the need to buy more supplies soon, but finally, you got the garter stitch right. And as predictable as it was, you'd get started with a scarf. So far, it looked decent, and the wools Hobie sold you seemed perfect for the task.

As you created a mental note to tell Hobie to save you some colors in your next paycheck your phone buzzed. Miguel's name on your screen gave your chest a little irregular thump upon remembering the conversation with Simon. It seemed like the perfect timing.

"Huh-lo?"

You could hear him laughing on the other line

"It's Aló, not huh-lo."

"I'm trying!"

He chuckled "Try harder 'cause that was awful."

"Teach me then." You rolled your eyes, and there was a silence as he gulped involuntarily.

"Are you sure?"

"You were already a teacher, so yeah. You want me to understand it, right? Then teach me."

His grip on his phone tightened as he sighed, asking for strength from the heavens.

"I will. Promise."

"Good. Anyways, is everything ok?"

There was a slight shuffling on his side of the call before the sound of a dragged chair made you scrunch your nose at the sudden noise.

"Yeah. Sorry for that, deep cleaning day."

"Oh? Cool. Want me to make you a Playlist for your cleaning days?"

His rich, deep laugh sent you chuckling, and your skin crawled.

"No, thanks. Though, music is a good way to start learning a language."

"Aye, sir. Any artist you recommend?"

He chuckled

"Might do get you a playlist for simple things. It's a good start."

"Why, thank you. Mr. O'Hara."

He groaned in annoyance, and you giggled. If you’d had any idea of how much he hated when you called him like that, he was sure you’d stop. Even if it was just to annoy him. It made him feel old.

"I appreciate it though. I always wanted to learn another language."

"How's the French going?"

It was your turn to groan. A 'How's Simon doing' would be the most accurate translation of it.

"Not so good. My tongue gets twisted. Might do ask Simon directly as well."

There was more shuffling on your line as you got the Bluetooth earbuds and linked them to continue your closet and makeup cleaning as you were on the call.

The silence stretched for a solid minute until you spoke again.

"Hello? Are you still there?

"Yeah, I was getting some coffee."

His tone was soft.

"Jesus, stop drinking that much coffee." You shook your head with a disapproving look you were sure he’d just laugh off. "Anyways, I wanna ask you something. And I need you to be honest."

"Why do I feel you're about to ask something ridiculous or unhinged?"

You laughed

"Up to you to decide if it is. Did you hook up with Miss Lyla?"

He burned his tongue at your sudden question with the coffee, truly surprised you’d ask such things.

"Oh... That." He cleared his throat, "I did. Just twice, though. Why?"

Your eyes widened as your mouth clammed up for a moment. As uncomfortable as it was, Miguel didn’t lie. After all, he had told you about these things in your first outing together.

"Was it before... or after me?" 

Clearly. you remembered the conversation like a lucid dream. 

Desperate times.

"Before. Why are we discussing this? More importantly, who told you this?"

You swallowed and sighed. His voice was a bit on the edge.

"Old stories I recently heard. And Simon did. Our date was full of old stories. I'm so glad he didn't take classes with you."

His eyes drooped in boredom upon you saying the word date. Of course, you’d have a date with him. It was natural to return to what one knew. He thought you were less naive than that but would watch it unfold from afar. He’d never miss a chance to say “I told you so”. 

The satisfaction of being right about his intuition was a pleasure he enjoyed terribly.

"Bien pinche chismoso" (Such a freaking tattletale)

He grumbled after taking a sip of his bitter coffee

"Uh, what?"

"Nothing. I assume you dated him?"

You threw a couple of old eyeshadow palettes in the trash.

"Yeah, just for four months before he went back to France to finish his career there."

"How cute.”

“You’re just being mean. Don’t you trust my judgment?”

“ I don't trust Simon."

You laughed again, but his face remained serious

"Ah, C'mon. Why?"

"I was young too, guapa. Guys his age are up to no good."

You folded a couple of skirts as your lips pouted.

"I appreciate your concern regarding this. But seriously, Simon hasn't changed that much. He's the same goofy ass from college days."

He scoffed nonchalantly "Are you sure of it? People change. And sometimes is not precisely for the good."

You smiled at his words.

"Well, thanks for the support. Means alot. But I'll be fine."

You heard him sigh

"Right."

"And you're not that old."

He snorted as he put the half cup of coffee on the table

"I'm forty-two, guapa. I say I'm old enough to have my fair share of life wisdom. And that guy is certainly hiding something."

"I'm not arguing against that. You look like you have gone through a bit more stuff."

"Are you calling me a mess?"

Again, you laughed. The sound made him smile.

"My my, so sensitive!. I say you look mature enough. Even though I know maturity isn't linked directly with age, your way of carrying yourself about things makes you a reliable and trustworthy friend. I like that."

His eyes widened a bit at your words

"Didn't know you were into older guys."

"Yup. I mean, you guys know what you want. Or at least most of you do. And that's good cause I don't like teaching younger people what they want. I'm not a rehab center." Your lips pursed, "I like learning."

He gulped and wet his lips with his tongue.

"But yeah, anyways, thanks for calling. Always good to hear you."

"Likewise, guapa. Take care.""Bye, Miguel."

The call ended, and you smiled. Miguel on the other hand, rubbed his face as he pondered at your words.

You liked learning. That was certain. Either academically or in life. But you did. And he liked that too.

-----

— Hello Sweetheart

Dad's number had popped out on your screen, but Hobie's rambling snapped his attention back to you.

You returned home from work a couple of hours early and Mrs. Brown invited you over for a cup of tea.

The apartment smelled like a mix of spices and herbs, along with a touch of vanilla cigarettes. The apartment had two bedrooms, the kitchen was bigger than yours just like the living room area.

Your apartment was the smallest on the floor. Everyone had a two or three-bedroom lease, but for you, a one-bedroom accommodated just fine.

Mrs. Brown was gentle but didn't doubt voicing her concerns and opinions with such delicacy and refinement one would think she'd be complimenting you. No wonder Hobie or  Hobart, a little giggle from you when she called him that when he arrived from work carried himself the way he did.

She was supportive and loving. The only authority I wouldn't rebel against said the tattoo artist as you accompanied him into getting his weekly grocery shopping.

His van had been in repair, and now he wasn't sure if he’d get any news anytime soon.

                     Hey, Dad. How are you? —

Hobie took a look at your piercings and approved your current care. You had also told him about the wools, even paid him ahead, which he used to pay for the groceries.

—Missing you, darling. Are you alright?

The question had you smiling softly. He was always so caring and worried about you. When you first told him you'd move out, he was glad. Congratulated you even, au contraire of your mom who started complaining almost immediately.

"Birdie?"

"Hm?

Your eyes left your phone screen to look at him.

"You good? Kinda spaced out there."

You nodded.

"Yeah, just talking with my dad."

"They want you to visit?"

You nodded with an annoyed groan.

Not that you disliked your parents. Their relationship with you was strained as it was.

"Hard upbringing?"

"More like... Not really there- sort of upbringing."

Hobie put the groceries in the back seat of your Cooper and sat on the passenger seat.

"Yikes."

You shrugged. Not dwelling on the past trauma wound that remained ever fresh. You drove back to the apartment building.

"Sorry to hear that. Seems like people  have kids to fill their inner voids."

"Right?! But man, saying that out loud is sure a social death sentence."

"Hypocrisy at its finest. Society is always changing, most of the time is never for good reasons."

You nodded but snorted softly.

"Whut?"

"Nothing, It's funny when we talk like phylosophers on weed."

Hobie chuckled and relaxed into his seat.

"You know? I owe you an apology."

"Whatever for?"

You stopped at a red light and looked at him.

"My mother... she said some comments I didn't like when she came up for a visit a couple of days ago."

"And why do you apologize on her behalf?"

I'm good. A bit busy with work as usual, but I was planning on calling you—

"No, I apologize 'cause it wasn't nice."

You mumbled as you typed in your screen.

"Why are you assuming other's wrongdoings as yours? And in all honesty, I couldn't care less what people think of me. Specially corporate slaves."

The light turned green and you drove again.

"I don't know. Just..."

"Apologize when you are the one at fault, birdie. The rest is irrelevant. Thanks for the warning tho’."

—Yeah, your mom told me that you still have things packed up and that you're not ready yet to live alone.

—Wanna talk about it?

If only his passiveness wouldn't be so dragging to the point of always ending up siding with your mother in little matters that only added more weight to the already full bag of terribly handled emotions. He'd be your favorite.

You parked in the building and helped Hobie to carry the shops. Mrs. Brown made you both a delicious English breakfast for dinner. They didn't believe in consistency, if Mrs. Brown wanted something, she made it. And her cooking was good, especially in the pudding making.

You hadn't looked at the screen yet, so blissfully ignorant to not care for a bit.

Hobie then kept boasting about how it was bad for people to keep assuming other's fault. He told his mom about it, and she just agreed. They had this strong bond you had stopped longing for a long time ago. It was easier for you to see smells and taste colors than to keep a healthy relationship with your parents.

—Honey?

But of course, you dreaded so many things. Even though the upbringing seemed the perfect chance to toughen your mind, angry confrontations weren't your thing. Cause in a hypothetical perfect world, everyone is emotionally intelligent enough to know how to express and regulate their feelings.

But neither the world nor your life were perfect.

You went to your apartment and finally took a look at the messages. Anger boiled in your head, and as usual, you'd have to explain yourself.

You were tired of it.

I would appreciate it if you'd stop believing everything Mom says.

The message was clear, but you deleted it last second as you snapped a quick video and sent it to him instead.

Do you see any boxes on the floor? —

It sounded way too curt and petty than you intended to, but maybe that way he'd start getting his criterion in check.

—No, I'm sorry. When are you coming for a visit?

When you stop taking sides

Again, the message was deleted. Being passive-aggressive with them wouldn't help either. Sighing, you typed once more.

Next weekend, but I will stay Saturday night only. I use Sundays for prepping for the week :) —

Not even Judas was so disingenuous as that emoji at the end.

—Oh gotcha, gotcha. Still, would be wonderful to have you over.

Please don't tell Mom. I want it to be a surprise. —

More like, I don't want her to be all nagging and harassing my inbox with her pretentious texts.

Your mind chanted

—Of course. Love you

Hopefully, she will be out on a business trip and you'll be enjoying with your dad.

Love you too, dad —

It was going to be draining and difficult. But you’d push through. You always did. 

You had to. 

-----

Taglist:

@jkthinkstoomuch @queenofroses22 @katitakenway @amylasagna @rositabluemoon @lyrasdrawer @plumplumpurin @damhanallagorm @chibiiichann @incustellar @taeecups @vonev @kinkybandages @ittybxttykxttytxtty @del-ightfulling @tatatida

[car-sounds]

Midnight Loneliness

Solomon x (GN)reader

546 words

Summary: MCs feelings about the past versions of the brothers make them unable to fall asleep. Solomon helps them with that and talks them through their feelings. The story takes place early in Nightbringer.

Late at night Coutus hall

Solomon is still up working on a new spell, and Mc is still up, struggling to sleep.

The loneliness of the brothers and everyone else not remembering you has gotten to you.

You’ve spent god knows how long trying to fall asleep but your thoughts keep you awake. The only solution you’ve come up with is going to find Solomon to cure your loneliness.

You can see the light spill out from under the door of his room. Once you knock, he gives you permission to enter. “MC, usually you're asleep by now. Is anything wrong?”

You shuffle into his room holding your pillow “I’m feeling kinda lonely. Can I hang out with you for a little while?”

“Of course”

You make your way to an armchair in the corner of his room and curl up on it making yourself comfortable. He goes back to his experiments but this time his focus is split between his work and you “Are you missing the brothers?”

“Yeah…It’s so weird seeing the same people I’ve made connections with over those years not knowing who I am.”

“I understand what you mean, I hope to get us back to the timeline as soon as possible…even though this arrangement is in my favor.”

“Thanks for being here with me in this timeline, I don’t think I would know what to do without you.”

“I’m sure you would have handled it well on your own, you are my talented apprentice after all.” 

“Whether that’s true or not I’m still glad you're by my side. Not only to guide me through the past but to keep me company, it’s been nice living with you!” Your tone brightens for a moment before the thoughts of your right timeline come back. “Glad we feel the same way about this new living arrangement.”

“Even if we get back to the right timeline, what if I miss the past version of the others?”

“They are still the same people, they are just a little different, for better or for worse. You know we can’t stay in the past forever so it’s not like there is any choice to make.”

“I know, I know. I just can’t help but feel guilty. I know I’m going to have to leave them at some point, and it feels wrong getting close to them when I know it’s going to end soon.”

“We have to do this to get back to the right timeline. Even if you can’t stay forever I know you’ll have a positive impact on the brothers in this timeline nonetheless.” His words comfort you, your doubt is still there but the validation that you’re doing things right was just what you needed.

“Thank you, Solomon.” Your voice has gotten softer than it was a couple of minutes ago. Solomon decided to finish his experimenting early tonight and offered you a place next to him in bed to make you feel not as lonely, and you accepted his offer.

The warmth of him and his bed fills you with the comfort you needed today. You finally feel the sleepiness taking you away. The doubt may come back another day but for now, you’re confident in the choices you know have to be made.

Masterlist

[mikefrawley]

Maybe Self Forgiveness is Possible Part II

Okay, quickly now as this was supposed to be a positive little story.  I’ve actually been drug free now for a little over three years, and cigarettes I quit a couple of months later.  My lungs have indeed paid a heavy price for this, but I refuse to ungrateful at this point.  Somehow, I truly know I cannot afford to be.  I’ve written a few times recently about self-love and writing, reading, therapy, medication and meditation have been real game changers, and I truly believe I’m taking baby steps on a very good path.  Let me pause for a second and let you know that I will be 66 years old in early May?  Isn’t this kind of late some of you may ask.  Yes, it is, but I am certain it is NOT too late.  What I have gained so far has been well worth any time and tears I’ve put into it.  I also pray that these posts may help at least one person who may be sharing some of these feelings and doubts.  If you happen to be one of them, please know that you too can learn to love yourself, you are definitely worthy of it, and it is not too late!  Okay, now I think we should share a little self-forgiveness.  To be honest, for over twenty years now, I have not forgiven myself for destroying my first career and the life that went with it.  For the past two years, up until about a year ago, I would take Uber to see specialists for my thyroid and lungs, and with every drive past nice apartment complexes, subdivisions, bookstores, restaurants, etc., I would feel terribly sad and even guilty, knowing that I had totally screwed myself out of this lifestyle forever.  Oh, by the way, I do actually have my own car now, and driving in those same areas, I still feel positive inside.  OMG, am I actually starting to forgive myself?  I honestly believe I may be, even if slowly, on my way.  Please forgive me my friends.  I know this was way too long, but I do want to share as a possible message of hope for anyone who needs it.  If you are one of us, please remember, you deserve your own self-love and self-forgiveness, you are indeed worthy of these gifts, and I assure you, it is not too late to begin.

I love you, Mike <3

[queenshelby]

The Director (Part Four)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity

After saying goodbye, Cillian made his way back to the hotel where you were staying to quickly shower and get changed and, just as he emerged from the bathroom, he noticed that he had three missed calls from his wife Danielle. 

As their relationship had been strained of late, he knew he had to call her back, but he dreaded beginning the conversation.

Nervously, he took a deep breath before pressing the green button on his phone.

"Hey," he said, as soon as his wife answered and, immediately, she asked him why he did not answer the phone when she called. 

"I was in the shower," Cillian sighed before telling her about his busy schedule on set, but Danielle appeared somewhat irritated by the lack of correspondence on his part of late.

"You could at least make an effort to communicate with me while you are away filming," she told him, her voice breaking a little. "I am so sick of me having to work around your schedule all the time," her voice rose and he could hear her sigh deeply.

"Dani, I am sorry, but with my work there needs to be flexibility and you know that," he tried to reason with her.

Since the very beginning, Cillian's career demands had resulted in schedules that changed frequently and, unfortunately, this began affecting their marriage.

Lately, there was less communication between the both of them and it felt as though they were living separate lives especially since, just two years ago, when Cillian was away filming, Danielle had cheated on him with no other than his best friend at the time. 

This indiscretion had only come to light after the dust had settled and it took a heavy toll on their ability to reconnect intimately.

Ever since then, they had both struggled to revive the zest of their earlier days together, a time when they could effortlessly laugh, banter, and share secrets until the sun came up.

Yet, somehow, it seemed like the fractures that had riddled their relationship became increasingly hard to ignore, and they grew further apart.

With both his children being older now and one of them having moved out to live abroad, he couldn't help but question whether the time they had left as a couple was being wasted and, before long, he found himself at a crossroads: should he maintain the status quo, or would he allow himself the freedom to explore new horizons available to him, even if just in his mind?

While he was contemplating these questions, his thoughts repeatedly circled back to the connection that he had formed with you on set.

He marveled at your strength and intelligence, struck by your blunt honesty and love for the art of filmmaking as the very qualities that he found so wildly attractive in you.

And of course, he felt guilty for even entertaining such thoughts about another woman; he was, after all, a married man.

"Cillian, are you there?" his wife's voice broke through the silence, pulling him back to the present.

"Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about work. I promise to communicate more with you from now on, okay?" he said, hoping that this would alleviate some of her frustrations.

"Okay, I'll hold you to that," she replied, sounding slightly mollified. "And, by the way, you should fire this assistant of yours. She really gets on my nerves," Danielle said, sighing heavily before continuing. "Every time she takes my calls, she is sounding rather annoyed, and I still think that she's got the hots for you," she added, her voice skipping between annoyance and an unspoken jealousy.

"Oh god, here we go again," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as his wife's insecurities drifted back into the conversation. "She is not interested in me and, even if she was, I am not the unfaithful one here," he told his wife, thinking back to her affair with a man he had trusted for years. 

Sighing deeply, he added, "Look, I've got to go now," cutting the conversation short before the anger within him boiled over.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he promised, already dreading the conversation to come after his wife had time to reconsider her actions and accusations, all of which left him feeling emotionally exhausted.

With the stark reality of his crumbling marriage now believing, Cillian changed into a pair of dark jeans and a grey sweater before making his way downstairs to the hotel lobby where he was to meet Emily, Robert and Y/N.

Emily had booked a restaurant nearby, one that was small and somewhat private so that all of them could avoid unwanted attention.

"Sorry I am late," he told you and the others when, finally, he arrived at 7.30pm and Emily gave him a quick friendly hug before leading him towards the table.

"At least you made it," Emily said gently in reply, casting a knowing glance at you before Cillian sat down besides you. 

You were sitting next to Cillian, your knees practically brushing against one another while his presence and touch somehow still lingered in your soul, triggering a longing for something that you couldn't quite understand.

Fumbling with the sleeves of your shirt, you again tried to hide your scars from him as you were unbearably self-conscious about your appearance and whilst Cillian noticed your slight discomfort, he was polite enough not to say anything.

Instead, he asked you about your family, revealing tidbits of his own life in the process. You told Cillian about your two children and a soft smile played at the corners of his inviting lips as he listened attentively to you, and you watched as he tapped his fingers rhythmically against the table, a beat in his heart that perfectly mirrored the dynamic energy of the conversation between you both.

Cillian, in turn, told you about his daughter who was 16 and his son who was 19.  He also talked about his wife, Danielle, but there was a certain hesitance in his voice as he described their relationship.

The night went on, and you found yourselves becoming increasingly immersed in conversation, discussing not only your lives but also your passions and interests.

Cillian joked and laughed, making witty comments that would have you chuckling softly, while Emily and Robert could not help but notice your connection. 

For a moment, you could forget the stress and troubles that plagued by life, feeling alive and free in a way that you had not experienced in a long time.

For that moment, the world seemed like a perfect place, and everything about this night felt just right.

In the end though, Cillian had to call it day as his first scene tomorrow was scheduled for 5 o'clock in the morning. 

"I suppose I should hit the hay," he said to you and the others as he glanced at his watch and drained his glass.

"Oh come on, Cill! It's still early!" Emily protested with a pout, but Cillian shook his head.

"I have to be up at four," he reminded her. "And I need at least a few hours of sleep before that," he then told her honestly, hiding a yawn behind his hand which was causing you to giggle.

"I suppose I should head back too. I have to be up at 4 as well," you agreed, feeling a slight disappointment that the night was coming to an end.

Cillian hesitated for a moment before standing up, causing you to avert your eyes from gazing any further into the deep blue ocean that was his eyes.

"Should we walk back together then?" Cillian asked, his gaze holding yours for just a moment too long, and you felt a flutter in your chest.

"Sure," you finally said, smiling at everyone before standing up.

As you left the restaurant, Cillian matched your pace and chatted casually about the movie set and the previous scene they had worked on. Every now and then, you would laugh, and, in those moments, it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

But you knew that wasn't true. You were acutely aware of each passerby, each car that drove past you, each potential witness to the chemistry between you and Cillian.

"I usually hate going out after work, but I had a lot of fun tonight," Cillian suddenly admitted as you reached the lobby of your hotel, interrupting the thoughts that had invaded your mind. 

"Me too," you replied truthfully, a warmth spreading in your cheeks. "It's nice to socialize now and then I guess," you added, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian smiled, his eyes brightening with excitement as he spoke. "We should definitely do this again sometime," he suggested, his tone casual but his gaze steady. You nodded, completely captivated by the actor's presence.

There was an undeniable pull between the two of you and although you were aware of the risks involved, you couldn't shake off the connection that had formed between the two of you.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Cillian said, his voice deep and husky as he looked at you with an intensity that stole your breath away.

"Goodnight, Cillian," you replied, feeling a strange mix of excitement and guilt as you turned to leave.

As you entered the safety of your hotel room, your mind was racing. You couldn't stop thinking about Cillian and the way he made you feel alive.

Despite your marriage to James, you couldn't deny the attraction between you and Cillian.

You had never felt this way before, at least not since the early days of your relationship with James.

Your mind was in turmoil as you tried to make sense of these conflicting emotions. Was it just physical attraction, or was there something deeper at play? Was it worth risking your marriage and family for this fleeting desire? You didn't have the answers to any of these questions, but one thing was clear: you couldn't ignore the feelings that had surfaced.

The following two days on set were uneventful and, unfortunately for you, your interactions with Cillian were limited as you were tasked to film scenes with Robert instead. 

Every time you passed him by, he would flash you a warm smile that would light up your insides, and sometimes, your heart would skip a beat when his eyes would meet yours for just a moment too long.

On day six, you finally found yourself on set with Cillian again, and there was an undeniable tension that hung in the air between the two of you, a magnetic pull that was impossible to ignore.

You spent the whole day directing him, seemingly lost in his charismatic blue eyes, while he seemed to have only eyes for you. At one point, you had to ask him to put on a prop hat for a scene, and you couldn't stop yourself from letting your fingers linger on his forehead just for a moment longer than necessary.

Cillian's eyes widened slightly at your touch, but he didn't say anything.

Just a simple smile, a brushing of hands, a linger of stares and this continued all day until, eventually, after 14 hours, you were finished filming for the day and Cillian asked you whether you would like to grab a bite to eat.

"I, uhm, yeah," you agreed hesitantly, already knowing that this was a step closer to the slippery slope that both of you had been treading on for a while.

"But maybe we could get take away or something and eat it up at the room because I am pretty tired," you admitted softly, hoping that he would understand that you weren't pushing him away but rather, you simply needed to rest.

Cillian nodded in response, understanding your sentiments perfectly.

"Yeah, that sounds good," he said, a curve at his lips as he smiled. "We could just hang out at your room and order some food from the restaurant downstairs, unless you think that's weird," Cillian trailed off, leaving the last part open-ended as if giving you an option to change your mind.

"No, no. That sounds perfect," you assured him, trying to keep your voice from wavering.

"Grand," Cillian nodded, his smile representing his relief.

"See you at your room at about 7 then?" he asked, and you nodded nervously before finishing up on set and making your way to the hotel room that you had been staying in for the past week.

As you stepped into your room, you couldn't shake off the sense of apprehension gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Your mind was in turmoil, battling between your sense of loyalty to James and the undeniable attraction you felt for Cillian.

You paced back and forth in your hotel room, trying to sort through your conflicting emotions.

The sound of incoming messages pinged on your phone, and you picked it up, hoping it would distract you from the thoughts plaguing your mind. It was a message from James and, after what he did to you the last night at home, he was the last person you wanted to hear from. 

You sighed, knowing that you couldn't ignore him forever though, so you crafted a quick response, assuring him that everything was fine.

After messaging him, you quickly made your way to the bathroom for a shower, letting the hot water wash over your skin as you tried to calm your nerves.

Then, as you stepped out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and looked at your reflection in the mirror.

Your hair was damp and unsettled, your bruises and scars visible, and your usually bright eyes looked tired and worried.

"Everything will be fine," you told yourself, but your reflection didn't look convinced. "It's literally just dinner and socializing. Nothing more," you whispered to yourself, trying to convince your reflection. But as you looked into your own eyes, you saw the doubt and uncertainty.

In that moment, time had gotten the better of you and, as you were still standing there in a towel, you heard a knock on the door.

For a brief moment, you stood completely still, unsure of what to do. You were feeling vulnerable, and the idea of opening the door wrapped in nothing more than a towel was a little disconcerting.

But then, as you heard the knocking again, you shook yourself out of your trance to realize that you couldn't possibly leave Cillian waiting outside. So you took a deep breath and quickly walked over to the door, giving the towel a little tug to ensure that it wasn't coming loose.

"Hang on, I am just getting changed," you told him after opening the door a little bit so that he could not see you before hurrying back to the bathroom while, at the same time, yelling out for him to come inside. 

The situation was awkward, but you handled it well and, after as little as two minutes, you came back out of the bathroom, dressed in a long sleeve shirt and tracksuit pants.

Cillian was still standing close to the door, a curious expression painted on his face, one that you couldn't quite decipher.

"Everything alright?" he then asked, watching you itch your arm where you had been burned.

His eyes gave away a hint of sympathy, but he didn't mention anything else.

You glanced at him for a moment, realizing how you had caught him looking at your arm. You wondered if he saw the pain behind your eyes, the long nights of reliving the accident.

"Yeah, I'm alright," you said, forcing a smile. "Sorry. just time had gotten the better of me," you explained, and Cillian nodded, taking a step forward to sit down on your bed before noticing a blood stain on your shirt, coming from the wound you were hiding. 

The wound had not yet healed properly due to a lack of medical care, and Cillian's eyes darkened with concern.

"Y/N, I was not going to say anything," he began to say, but you interrupted him gently.

"I know, I know," you confessed, absently rubbing your arm before catching yourself and looking away. "I accidently burned myself a few days ago," you lied, trying to pass it off as a minor mishap.

"And I am glad you work behind the camera and not in front of it," he told you jokingly to lighten the mood and you couldn't help but chuckle before he continued in a more serious tone. "Listen, it is none of my business, but I think you need to get this looked at by the medics on set," he said, a faint crease furrowing his brow.

"I can't," you stammered, your heart racing as you avoided his gaze. The thought of revealing the truth about the home situation you were in scared you. You didn't want Cillian or anyone else to pity you or, worse yet, to judge you but he quickly picked up on your cue.

"You should report him Y/N," Cillian said, his voice soft but firm. "No one should have to endure that," he added, anger flashing in his eyes as he placed a gentle hand on to yours. 

You were touched by his concern but at the same time, you didn't want to burden him with your problems. 

"You don't understand Cillian. I really can't!" you insisted, pulling your hand away from Cillian and standing up from the bed. You couldn't let him get involved in your personal life, as much as you wanted to confide in him.

"But why not?" Cillian asked, confusion etched on his face. "You don't deserve to be treated like that. No one fucking does. It's abuse," Cillian told you. 

"I know I do," you whispered, turning away from him. "But it's not that simple."

Cillian sighed before standing up as well, his towering figure casting a long shadow over you.

"Alright, I won't push it," he said, his voice low and soothing. "I am sorry," he told you with a warm smile, taking a step closer to you, close enough for his warmth to caress your skin. "I didn't mean to upset you," he added, concern evident in his voice.

"I know," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, "It's just complicated, and I don't want to talk about it right now."

Cillian furrowed his brow at your words, but he didn't push the issue, understanding that there were some things that one simply couldn't force.

Instead, he changed the subject, steering the conversation towards your shared love of cinema and the project you were working on.

As you talked, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Cillian's understanding and acceptance of your situation made you feel seen, heard, and respected – a stark contrast to your own husband's behavior.

As you continued your conversation, the tension between you slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of ease and familiarity.

It was as if you had known each other for years, rather than just days, and you reveled in the feeling.

Cillian's genuine interest in your thoughts and opinions was refreshing, and you found yourself opening up to him in a way that you hadn't with anyone else in a long time. You spoke about your love for storytelling and the power of film to transport and transform audiences.

Cillian listened intently, nodding along and contributing thoughtful insights of his own.

He shared his experiences working with various directors and actors, discussing their different approaches to the craft. You felt a sense of excitement building within you as you connected over your shared passion for film.

As you spoke, Cillian couldn't help but feel drawn to you. There was something about your confidence and intelligence that captivated him. Your vulnerability, too, pulled at his heartstrings, making him want to protect you from whatever was causing you pain.

But Cillian knew he had to tread carefully. He was married and had a family of his own to consider.

Besides, he wasn't the type of man to go after another man's wife, even if that woman seemed to be in need of rescuing.

"It is getting late, and we both have a big day tomorrow," Cillian finally said, glancing at his watch.

"I suppose you're right," you agreed, feeling a twinge of disappointment that your conversation was coming to an end.

As he stood up to leave however, there was an awkward silence that hung in the air between you both.

Cillian hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to say goodbye to you without crossing any boundaries.

Sensing his discomfort, you leaned in and gave him a friendly hug, feeling his warmth and strength surround you.

"Thank you," you told him, your voice soft as you stepped back, releasing him from the embrace. "For tonight, I mean and for caring and so on," you stammered nervously, and Cillian smiled, understanding the gravity of your words.

He nodded slowly, moving to open the door, before turning to you one last time. "I'm here if you need me, Y/N," he promised.

And with that, he stepped out into the hallway, leaving you behind in your room, pondering over the gravity of your words and his response.

You locked the door behind him and leaned against it, letting out a deep breath. Your thoughts were racing. You were playing back the entire evening, analyzing every little detail, not knowing what all these emotions you experienced meant.

It had been a long time since you've opened your heart and soul to someone other than your family. Cillian Murphy had this certain charm that lured you in, and you didn't want to resist it.

To be continued...

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[musings-of-a-rose]

I Never Stopped Loving You

I Never Stopped Loving You

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC “Catie”

Word Count: 7700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes:  @theewokingdead is such an enabler and I love her for it! This is 100% her idea (I’ll post it at the end). I’m just doing the words!

And yes, this is my first OFC character! 

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Joel Miller Masterlist

I Never Stopped Loving You Part 2>>

September 26th, 2013

2 pink lines.

2 little pink lines that will change the entire course of my life from here on out. Not just my life, but his life too.

Joel.

It’s not like we just started dating. It’s been a couple of years, but we hadn’t really brought up the idea of adding another child alongside his Sarah. And yet, here I am, staring down in disbelief at these 2 little pink lines, memories of the night that caused this from a couple weeks ago flashing before my eyes briefly before my brain starts to spiral.

Would he be happy? Mad? Leave me? Feel obligated to marry me? How will Sarah feel?

Before I can spiral more, my phone springs to life, it’s ring loud in my tiny bathroom as it vibrates across the counter. I knew from the ring it was him, but what I didn’t expect was Joel to sound so tired and frustrated.

“Hey baby.”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Is that contractor being a dick again?”

He chuckles, low and deep. “How’d you guess?”

“He’s been giving you shit for weeks. I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“Because I need the money. But I’m starting to think it may not be worth it to keep my mouth shut.”

He launches into a story about his day from hell, how the contractor is making everything take 10 times as long as it should. When he finishes, he takes a deep sigh before speaking again.

“You able to check on Sarah?”

“Yeah. She’s doing fine. Ordered a pizza. Sorry I couldn’t hang with her.”

“It’s alright. You feelin’ any better, sweetheart?”

I could tell him now, tell him that my secret suspicion of my nausea over the last several days has been confirmed, but I don’t want to tell him like this. Not over the phone, not when he’s exhausted and frustrated. I’ll tell him when I see him next.

“A little.”

A beep sounds and Joel pauses. “That’s Tommy. I’ll call him back later.”

“No, no. It’s ok, answer it. Just go home and get some sleep.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely, sweetheart. Feel better.”

I feel guilty for not telling him right away, but the timing just isn’t right. Besides, this gives me some time to wrap my own head around it and figure out exactly how to tell him.

—----

Waiting was not a great idea.

I had fallen asleep at some point, but I was woken up by…is that screaming? Something is happening outside and it doesn’t sound good. 

Creeping up to the window, I pull the curtains back just enough to peek outside. People are moving about the street, but something isn’t right. They’re all running from Mr. Stevens, my neighbor from several houses down. He’s running after them, but it’s not normal. No…not human. He leaps forward, jumping onto the nearest person and…shit!

I run back to my nightstand and grab my phone. The first few times I try to get a call out, it’s a busy signal. Whether the lines are cut or busy is beyond me, but I have to keep trying. My fingers tremble as I use speed dial to try to get Joel. The phone slips from my hand and clatters to the floor.

“Shit!”

I bend down and pick it up, hitting the green call button and miraculously, the call goes through. My breathing speeds up, I feel like my heart is about to pound out of my chest. I’ve never needed a call to go through more than now-

“Catie?”

“Joel?”

“Thank God. Listen, somethin’ is happening. Something with the people-”

“I know. I saw the neighbor-”

“Stay away from them-.....not right-....Sarah and I-.....”

“Joel?” The line keeps breaking up, static cutting out more than half of whatever he was trying to tell me.

“....just stay put….no lights….there soon…”

“I- ok. I’ll stay here.”

“Love you, sweethea-”

The phone cuts off and the connection dies with it. I pull the phone away from my ear and look down at the screen. My phone still has battery but over the service bars is an X. Guess they either cut the service or something happened at a tower. Either way, it’s not good. 

I stay there a moment longer until more screams and glass breaking from across the street somewhere bring me harshly back to reality. I click my lamp off and head into my closet, finding the new hiking backpack I’d bought a couple weeks ago with Joel, who planned to take Sarah and I hiking soon. Be smart, Catie. It’s just like camping. What do I need realistically?

I’m no stranger to traveling, so I roll all my clothes, putting on a 3rd pair of jeans and a shirt, making sure to pack and wear thicker socks that will last longer. I also toss in a bar of soap, my waterproof matches and firestarter, some salves I had just finished making last week, and some other random items. The pack isn’t too heavy, which I’m grateful for. I grab one of Joel’s flannels and throw it on over my clothes before hoisting the backpack over one shoulder. 

Quietly, I creep downstairs, ears straining to hear anything out of place. I hear nothing - well, nothing aside from the ominous noises from outside. I’m so glad that I have curtains all around my house, never wanting people to see in, especially at night. I fill my canteen with water and grab a bunch of high protein, portable snacks, tossing them in my bag and strapping the water to the side. I make up another canteen to add to the other side to balance the weight. Plus, having extra water wasn’t a bad thing. Right?

I kept my phone on me in case Joel managed to get through again. I pull it out to see if anything had changed, but nothing. It’s been at least 20 minutes since I spoke to him, but even if he had left his home right at that moment, it would still be another 5 or so minutes before he’d get here. And I’m sure he’s running into obstacles outside. 

When it hits the hour mark, I become officially worried. 

I know he told me to stay put, but the screams outside are lessening, which can only mean one thing. I’m not waiting around for it to be my turn.

Grabbing a pen, I scribble a quick note telling Joel to meet me at the cabin, my parent’s cabin that they had given me to use with Joel and Sarah. It’s out in the middle of nowhere but it’s self sustainable and the perfect place to hideout from…whatever is happening. 

I leave the note in a conspicuous place, hoping that he’ll be able to see it. I check the knives I stored in my boot and one in a leg strap on my thigh. Initially a gag gift from my brother when I started hiking more, I learned how to use them a little, just in case. Otherwise, I have my bow-my bow!

Quickly, I head into my office closet and grab my bow and quiver of arrows, making sure I have the proper attachments for attaching them to my backpack. I pick up my keys, fingers trembling and I nearly drop them. 

Then my sliding door crashes open, glass shattering everywhere, inhuman noises coming from whatever fell through it.

I don’t even bother to look, throwing open the front door and slamming it behind me, eyes scanning the yard for any threats. Thank God I have a keyless entry, the car unlocking for me and I throw my bag and bow in as I slide in the seat of my suv, slamming the door shut behind me. I fumble with the keys, trying to jam them in the ignition when I hear my front door slam against the ground. I manage to jam the key in and the engine turns over. I backup quickly out of my driveway and peel off down the street as Mr. Stevens comes out of my house, moving towards my car but quickly giving up as I drive away. 

I make it about 10 blocks when I see her. My neighborhood friend Lucia, running for her life from…something who used to be a someone. No hesitation, I turn my suv, slamming into the something and sending it flying. Lucia turns and sees me, eyes wide with fear as she runs towards me as I beckon her to get in. She throws open the passenger door and screams at me to go before she even closes it behind her. I do, speeding off down the road and somehow managing to get out of the nieghborhood without road blocks or hitting anything else.

For now, I’m ignoring what I see and focusing on getting us out. 

Lucia says nothing, eyes scanning the road and looking behind us to make sure everything is clear. By the grace of a higher power, we manage to make it to the back highway that will eventually bring us to my parent’s cabin. Or my cabin now, I guess. 

“Luce, are you ok?”

Lucia is breathing heavy but she nods, turning her head towards me as she starts to relax slightly. “Thank you for stopping. I..I wouldn’t have made it otherwise.”

“I’m just glad I could help.”

A few moments of silence pass between us before I speak again.

“Are you hurt or..or bit? I don’t..I don’t know what-”

“No. I don’t know how but no.”

“What are they?”

Lucia takes a shaking breath and I can hear her trying to hold back tears. “I..I don’t know. They aren’t…they were people but now?”

“Yeah that’s pretty much all I saw too…oh is there anywhere I need to go or drive by for you?”

She looks away from me quickly. “I uh…no.”

“Where’s your brother?”

She was quiet for a moment. “He left on his business trip a day ago.”

Right. Japan or something.

I reach over and squeeze her hand, feeling us both shaking. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

More silence.

“What about Joel? And Sarah?”

“I uh…I was waiting for them but… I left a note telling them where to meet me.”

“Oh. I’m sure they’re fine.”

We drive for a little bit longer, Lucia messing with the radio to try and find anything that was playing. It was all just static. I take the exit I need and clear my throat.

“I’m pregnant.”

Lucia’s head snaps towards me. “You’re what?”

I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Great timing, huh?”

“Does Joel know?”

A sob jumps out of my throat, one I didn’t know I had. “No. I..he had a hard day at work and I figured I’d tell him tomorrow…”

“Oh, Cat. It’s ok. He…he’ll find you for sure. I know it. Buuut…until then, you have me! Wait, did you pick me up just because I’m a midwife?” I can hear the smile in her words, but she’s still not 100% certain.

“I picked you up because you needed help. And you didn’t look injured.” She laughs at my admission. 

“I love your honesty, Cat.”

We chat about the pregnancy the entire way, only quieting when we reach the long, hidden drive to my cabin. We do a quick perimeter check, inside and out. Nothing and no one. The closest neighbors we have are literally miles away. We have more chances of seeing a bear than another person. 

Lucia helps me unload the few things I have in the car and heads inside. We take a quick stock of all pantry items and I’m thankful that Sarah and I did so much canning the last time we were here. She had gotten slightly obsessed with the idea and was looking forward to eating it when they were ready. Water wouldn’t be an issue either as we have our own private well, no need for electricity. Which is good because that doesn’t work without the generator and we are not turning that on. It’s too noisy and would attract trouble.

Lucia and I have a low key dinner of beef sticks and some dried vegetables, chatting with each other to try and lighten the dark cloud that has crept over the world. She heads off to one of the bedrooms and I head off to mine, the one I share with Joel. Once I’m finally able to collapse in the bed, I allow myself a moment to cry, worrying about Joel and Sarah and the baby that’s currently growing inside of me. I still have hope they’ll make their way here. I have to or I’ll crumble into bits and float away on the wind.

—----

20 years later…

Lucia and I stayed in the cabin for nearly 10 years. She helped me safely bring my daughter Penelope, or “Poppy”, earthside. We raised her in the cabin, teaching her everything she needed to know about survival and life, despite her young age. This is how life is now. She’s still allowed to have kid time of course, which is why there are murals painted on nearly every corner of the cabin. 

About 10 years in, Lucia, who had never given up on finding someone or a transmission on either the radio or the ham radio, finally found one talking about a settlement in Jackson, Wyoming. It would take us nearly a month to get there, let alone the danger we’d be in. The suv would never make it, having given out years ago, but luckily we had managed to make a small farm for us and that included a few horses and a couple that could pull a wagon or 2. After gathering up all the information we could on Jackson, we determined it must be a real place and put it to a vote with all of us. After the winter snows melted, we left for Jackson, packing up our entire lives, or what we could anyway, and plotting out the safest route possible. It would take us about a month, especially with the detours we were taking, but they were necessary to avoid the areas that would most likely have bandits. Or worse.

The last thing I did before I closed the door was to write a letter to Joel and Sarah, telling them where we were going. Even 10 years later, I had not given up on them.

—----

A month later, we arrived in Jackson, a few more scrapes and bruises to our name, but luckily, we hadn’t run into too much trouble.

Lucia got work right away, considering her background as an official midwife. I was hired to help with the gardening because of my immensely green thumb and knowledge of herbs, and Poppy was allowed to help with the livestock we brought, after school was done for the day. Poppy was beside herself with the idea of going to actual school, even though she knew most of what they were teaching anyway. 

We all settled nicely, Lucia falling in love with a nice man on the other side of town, eventually moving in with him and starting a family of their own. Poppy made a ton of friends, finally allowed the freedom to be a kid for more than a couple of hours. 

As for me? 

I never really dated anyone, my heart given to Joel a long time ago. I know the likelihood of seeing him again is extremely slim, but I still have a tiny sliver of hope that he’s around. And maybe he’s heard about Jackson and will head this way. Which didn’t impact my decision to come here. Nope. Not at all. 

But the biggest surprise that Jackson held for us was Tommy, Joel’s brother. He was married to Maria, the woman who started this community with her father, and lived on the farm where they kept the horses. Poppy and he got along right away, her begging for more stories about her dad and he would pretend to be annoyed but would give in every single time. She continued this ritual as she grew, eventually bringing her boyfriends with her, searching for Tommy’s approval, just like a father.

One beautiful fall day, I’m walking through the market, trading for new produce and supplies when I hear some people gossiping over lemonade at the small eatery in town. I tend to ignore gossip, never having been one for it, until the phrase “Tommy Miller’s brother” reaches my ear. I freeze, listening intently on their words, but I’m only able to make out that he was here in town. 

Joel was here. In Jackson.  Joel. 

I turn, marching towards the small group of people that were doing the gossiping when I heart the alert - bandits were attempting to attack the dam. Growling out in frustration, I turn to run towards that side of town, slinging the rifle from around my back once I assumed my nearly hidden position on the wall. We make quick work of the bandits, especially since we are heavily fortified and secured. That doesn’t stop them from trying, though. 

Once the attack is over, I search the throngs of people for Tommy, just spotting him getting on his horse and heading home. Cursing, I turn, heading towards Tommy’s house on foot, my mind now completely on Joel since the bandit attack was over. Was he still in town? Does he know I’m here? Does he know he has a daughter?

I arrive at the farm and immediately head for the barn, knowing Tommy would still be tending to his horse. Sure enough, he had just finished putting her away, locking the gate behind him.

“Tommy!”

He sighs and doesn’t look at me right away. Which tells me he knows exactly why I’m here.

“Hey, Catie.”

“Is he here?” I’m standing just a couple feet from him, arms crossed and my foot tapping slightly with nerves.

“Who?”

“Fuck you, Tommy. You know who.”

“I-”

“Tell me the truth.”

He meets my gaze for a moment before nodding. “He was.”

He was here. Joel was here, in Jackson, alive and I didn’t- wait. Did he say was?

I swallow hard, willing my tears to just wait until I’m by myself. “Is he ok?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean as much ok as we all are.”

I let out a breath of relief. He was ok. Probably a little worse for wear but he was ok.

“Did…did you tell him I’m here?”

Tommy studies me for several moments, his dark eyes bouncing between mine, as if he’s debating with himself. “I…did.”

He knows I’m here. Joel knows I’m here, alive and well and he just-

Oh. 

Of course. It’s been nearly 20 years and it would be ridiculous to think the man still loved me after all this time. He didn’t even know I was still alive. He’d never even met his daughter. If he no longer cared about me, fine. But why wouldn’t he want to meet his daughter? Unless…

“Did you tell him about Poppy?”

Tommy’s entire stance is apologetic and I know his reply before his lips even part. “No.”

“What the fuck, Tommy?”

He puts his hands up in a calming manner. “It shouldn’t come from me.”

“Fuck you, Tommy! He doesn’t even know he has another daughter. He deserves to know-”

“You’re right, he does. But not from me-”

“I can’t fucking believe this. It’s been 20 years, Tommy. 20 years and he didn’t even stop to say hi? Maybe if you’d have told him about Poppy, he’d at least stayed long enough to see her.”

I poke him in the chest as hard as I can. “It’s your fault he left!”

Tommy grabs my wrist and pulls me closer, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. “He had other things to take care of.”

“What could be more important than family?”

“All of humanity.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He had a girl with him. Maybe…14? 15?”

My heart sinks. Did he have another daughter after the clickers came? As if he could read my mind, Tommy shakes his head.

“Not his. Her name is Ellie and she’s….special.”

“That’s disgusting, Tommy.”

He gives me a look. “She was bit.”

“Bit? And you let her into Jackson?”

“And she hadn’t turned.”

I could feel my eyes grow wide. Bit? Without turning? That’s impossible.

“How do you -”

“Saw the bite myself. I’ve seen enough of ‘em to know what they look like. It’s legit.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. This is huge. Definitely bigger than me.

“Yeah… anyway, he was takin’ Ellie to the Fireflies because they can supposedly make a cure out of her blood. Or that’s the hope anyway.”

“A cure?”

“Yup. This whole mess could be put behind us.”

This…this is life changing. World changing. My 20 year long devotion to a man I was deeply in love with paled in comparison to a cure for the clickers. Tommy told me Joel still had a long way to go, but if anyone could make it, he could. 

“ ‘m sorry, Cat. I wish he could’ve stayed to say hi.”

“Did…did he say anything about me?” I hate how needy I sound.

“Honestly, we didn’t really talk about you other than me mentioning you were here. The focus was Ellie.”

I nod. The focus was on the right thing.

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I doubt it. It’s a long trek and pretty dangerous. He’d be smart to just stay put, especially to take care of Ellie.”

I left the barn and headed straight home. Poppy was out with her boyfriend so I had the whole place to myself. Which gave me plenty of alone time to cry and, for the first time in 20 years, try to move on from the dream I had about starting a little family with a man I never stopped loving.

—----

Spring in Jackson is always beautiful. The colors come alive, blooming from every surface they can for miles in greeting the season change. It’s also the perfect time to start planting certain crops so they’ll be ready when it comes harvest season. 

I’ve finished planting in the community garden, dirt crusted under my fingernails despite my scrubbing at the garden sink. I’ll be able to use a brush at home, but for now, I smile at the grime on my clothes. It means Jackson will have food and enough to last through winter. 

Taking off my apron, I toss it into the laundry basket to be cleaned and head towards the home I share with Poppy. She doesn’t spend as much time there these days, but I can hardly blame her. She is 20 and in a pretty serious relationship. I would not be surprised if the boy popped the question any day now. 

I turn onto Main Street and Mrs. NoseyPants stops me. I know it’s not her real name but it fits her better.

“Catie! How are the crops going? Jackson going to survive?”

“Mmhhmm. We should be great.” I try to step around her, but she blocks my path.

“How’s that daughter of yours? Still getting on with the Miller boy?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I hope he makes an honest woman of her before something happens.”

“Something happens?”

She looks around, as if she expects anyone to actually give a fuck about what we’re saying. “Yes. Like an out of wedlock child.”

I plaster on a fake smile. “Oh yeah. That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t like your tone, Catie.”

I open my mouth to offer some sarcastic retort about not really giving a rat’s ass what she thought of my tone, but my gaze moves over her shoulder and the crowd parts just enough for me to see him.

Joel. 

Unmistakably him, despite what the last 20 years has put on his shoulders. His back is to me, but his head is turned to the side, looking at all of the houses and buildings that line Main Street. Fuck he’s still handsome.

“Are you listening to me, Catie?”

I blink but don’t take my eyes off Joel, afraid he’d disappear if I did. “Full offense Mrs. Bennett, but I don’t have time to listen to your outdated and hateful words. Have a nice day.”

I know her jaw has dropped as I scoot around her, and I know I’ll probably pay for that later, but I couldn’t care less. My eyes are fixed on him as he walks slowly, eyes still moving from house to to house, taking it all in. I’m only several feet away before someone literally walks into him, dropping the giant stack of boxes they had been carrying.

“I am so sorry sir!”

The young man stoops to try and gather up the boxes and Joel turns to face him, bending to help him gather them up and reassemble them in his arms. “Don’t worry about it.”

The boy nods and takes off. Joel’s eyes follow him, making sure he doesn’t drop them again when his gaze meets mine. Those dark eyes move right into recognition and shock, blowing wide as it finally sets in who he’s looking at. 

I hesitate only a moment before I move towards him, nearly running and shoving a few people out of my way. And suddenly, I’m standing in front of him, all 5’11 and broad shouldered, just as he had been 20 years ago. More lines adorn his face, and several scars, his hair is speckled and streaked with greys, but somehow it makes him all the more attractive. My breath catches in my throat and I find myself speechless in front of the man I would’ve given anything to speak to for 20 years.

“Catie?” He chokes out my name, eyes scanning mine as if he was waiting for me to say he was mistaken. That I wasn’t who he thought I was.

A quick sob escapes me as I nod frantically. “It’s me.”

His hand, large and warm just as it always has been, comes up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my cheek, as if touching me was proving to him that I was real. And then he pulls me into his chest, hugging on to me tight, like I would disappear from his grip if he didn’t. I hug him back, crying into his broad chest, unable to believe that I was finally, finally, holding onto him. 

He pushes me back slightly, only to look at my face. “You’re…you’re alive.”

I chuckle through my tears. “And so are you. I thought Tommy told you I was here?”

He nods, his dark eyes still on my face. “I thought he was makin’ shit up to try and keep me here.”

“Well that does sound like Tommy.”

Joel chuckles deeply and it sends a jolt through my body. God how I missed that sound. 

“He told me you lived down this way.”

I cock my head to the side. “Were..were you looking for me?”

Pink blooms across his cheeks as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I had to see if he was full of shit.”

“Fair point.”

We stand there, in the middle of the street just staring at each other for several minutes before I blink back to reality.

“Are you hungry? I was heading home to make something to eat and shower. I…if you want to join me?”

His eyes darken briefly and I realize too late what I said. 

“I’d love to. But…”

He’s struggling with words.

“..but… what?”

He clears his throat, looking away from me for the first time. “Wouldn’t your uh…husband or boy friend or whatever be upset?”

Smiling up at him, I shake my head. “I don’t have either of those.”

His shoulder seem to slacken in relief. “Oh. ‘m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

The corners of his mouth tick upwards in a small grin and I feel like my insides are melting through my skin. How can this man still get me going after 20 years?

“Lead the way.”

I gesture down the street in the direction we’d have to go to get to my place. We don’t say much, Joel still taking in Jackson but always having one eye on me. I know we’re about to have a difficult conversation. How will he feel about Poppy? About how our life turned out? Or his? Tommy had told me about Sarah when I first came to Jackson. The hardness behind his eyes shows that he’s still dealing with the grief and I imagine he always will. It’s no easy thing to lose a child. 

We arrive at my house and I unlock the door, heading inside and flipping on a light.

“You have power?” He asks.

“Mmhmm. Tommy was able to hook up a generator of sorts to the power grid. It’s heavily guarded and taken care of so no one has messed with it. He’s been talking about trying to use water or wind energy, but we need someone who knows that.”

I kick off my boots and Joel copies me, setting his down next to mine. 

“Poppy? You home?” I call out, not wanting her to walk in the middle of whatever was about to take place. When I receive no reply after a few calls of her name, I shrug my shoulders in a ‘guess she’s not home’ way.

“Who’s Poppy?”

“You thirsty?” I head towards the kitchen and Joel follows, watching as I take out a pitcher of lemonade. “I also have beer. It’s…not the greatest but it’s something.”

“You make the best lemonade. I’ve been dreaming of it for years.”

I smile, turning to grab 2 glasses and putting some ice in each of them before adding the lemonade. I hand Joel his glass and his fingers briefly brush against mine. They’re rougher than before but not by much, and the jolt this light touch sends through is just as strong as it was 20 years ago.

I head back to the living area and sit on the couch, taking a sip while I motion for him to sit as well. He does, taking his own sip and I catch a nearly imperceivable moan at the back of his throat when he tastes the lemonade. I quickly shove my legs together, hoping he doesn’t notice. I try to cover by setting my glass on the coffee table and he copies me, wiping his hand on his jeans as he settles back, his body slightly shifted towards mine. 

“Is Poppy your uh…girlfriend?”

I laugh this time, not at the idea of me having a girlfriend but at the look on his face while saying it. “No. No she’s-” time to tell him what you should have all those years ago “- my daughter.”

Joel nods, his eyes looking down at his hands and his shoulder slump slightly as if sad. “You- you said you didn’t have anyone.”

“I don’t.”

A knowing look passes over his eyes. “Oh. ‘m sorry for your loss.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “My loss? No, Joel. Poppy is 20.”

“20…what?”

“20 years old.”

It’s his turn to look confused, as if math was passing over his vision. “She’s…20?”

“Yes.”

“So…that…that would mean when…you…” He shifts nervously in his spot on the couch, another swipe of his palms across his jean clad legs.

“Is…is she…”

“Do you remember that night? You had called me, telling me about that pain in the ass contractor you had to work with?”

Joel nods, his eyes glazed over in memory. “Yeah. I called to check on you because you couldn’t stop throwing…up…” His eyes snap to mine, and to my surprise, they were full of hope.

“I told myself it wasn’t the right time to tell you. But how the fuck would I have known that the world would end?” I chuckle nervously, fumbling as I reach got my glass to try and cover my nerves.

He lets out a puff of air. “So I have a daughter?”

My face feels warm under his intense gaze. “Yes.”

He lets out a half sob half laugh of joy, tears welling in his eyes before he tries to wipe them away with the back of his hand. “All these years I had a kid and I didn’t know. I didn’t know, Catie. I-” Another half sob half laugh escapes him and he takes a moment to compose himself, his body not used to such displays of emotion. Not anymore.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that night?”

Why didn’t I? “You sounded so stressed and worried and I didn’t want to add onto that. I was going to tell you the next time I saw you but…” but indeed. 

“How long had you known?”

“That day. I had suspected for a couple of days but I had to wait until I was sure I had missed my period to test and I didn’t want to tell you and be wrong.”

“You should’ve told me, sweetheart. We could’ve done the test together.”

I chuckle darkly. “Yeah I probably should’ve done that.”

“Tommy never told me.”

“What?”

“When I was here before. He told me you were here but not that I…that I have…why the fuck wouldn’t he tell me?” Joel pushes himself up from the couch in anger, pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor. “He should’ve told me!”

“Joel, he did what he thought was right.”

He looks at me, anger flashing in his eyes. “He had no right to keep that from me. If I had known, I would’ve-”

“Not brought Ellie to the Fireflies for a chance to save humanity?”

He stops pacing, turning towards me with shock on his face. “He told you about Ellie?”

I nod, sighing. “He did.”

“And he didn’t tell me I had-have a fucking daughter? And that she was here?”

“In all fairness to Tommy, he only told me after I got pissed he didn’t mention her to you.”

Joel scoffs. “What an asshole.”

“I…I thought maybe if you knew, you would’ve…maybe you would’ve at least stayed to meet her.”

Anger leaves his body and he sits next to me on the couch, hesitantly placing his hand on my thigh. “I definitely would’ve. When he told me you were here…I was intent on seeing you. Or seeing if he was pulling shit out of his ass. But he reminded me how important my cause was and since it was time sensitive, I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t at least have simply said hi?”

“Sweetheart, there is no ‘simply’ between us. If I’d have seen you, I wouldn’t have been able to leave.”

Tears fall from my eyes and I wipe at them furiously. “Did it work out at least?”

“Did what work out?”

“Ellie. And the Fireflies.”

Joel grows quiet for several moments. “Turns out they didn’t need her after all. Found others and couldn’t use the blood.”

He’s lying. I know he’s lying but now’s not the time to press him for more information.

“She come here with you?”

Joel nods. “I wasn’t just gonna leave her there.”

“No, no. I think that’s great. There’s a good community here. I’m sure she’ll fit right in.”

“She was already makin’ friends the moment we walked in the gate.”

A long pause passes between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s a processing silence, both of us trying to categorize and file the information we both learned from the other. When I look at him, I can tell he’s far off, thinking and brooding on things, which isn’t always a good thing.

“I wish you’d have told me that night.”

Ah.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“It would’ve changed everything! I would’ve grabbed Sarah and headed straight over to your place, bringing you…I don’t know, ginger ale and crackers? Whatever you wanted. We’d have stayed with you, started our family. Sarah so wanted a sibling. Especially a sister. Shit, she’d be so happy right now if she were….”

His voice tapers off but I know what he was going to say.

If she were alive.

I place my hand on his and squeeze it. “Tommy told me. I know nothing I say can make up for it, but I am so sorry Joel. I miss her terribly. I can’t imagine how it is for you.”

His mouth sets in a line, his jaw clenching, hand squeezing a little tighter on my thigh as if he’s trying to prevent himself from losing it. 

“Maybe if I had known you were pregnant, and we came over, she’d still be alive.”

“Oh, Joel, no. You can’t think like that-”

“I failed her.”

He spoke so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. The guilt in his words, however, was loud enough to hear from space. I bring my other hand to the side of his face, cupping his cheek, his patchy greyish stubble poking at my fingers, and gently turn his face upwards to mine. 

“You are a great man, Joel. And a hell of a father. There is no way that Sarah would ever think that you failed her in any way. She loved you so much and idolized you.”

The tears come this time, unable to hold them back any longer. I pull him to me and hug him, cradling the back of his head as he cries into my shoulder, mourning the loss of his daughter anew as he attempts to put aside the intense load of guilt he’s carried around for the last 2 decades. We stay like this for a while, my own tears mixing with his, as the light from the setting sun streaks through the curtains. 

Eventually, Joel pulls back, wiping at his face with the back of his hand before he finally looks at me, his beautiful eyes puffy from tears. I’m sure mine don’t look any better.

“Sorry about that.”

“Sorry for what? Being human?”

He smiles and the room lights up with it. “You were always so good at that.”

“At what?”

“Letting me feel things. And makin’ me feel like I wasn’t a complete fuck up.”

“That’s because you aren’t.”

He scoffs, smirking at me in disbelief. “I’ve had to do some shady shit to survive, sweetheart.”

“Who hasn’t?”

“You got me there. I’m still a fuck up though. Don’t know how you didn’t see it.”

“Hhmm…” I put my finger to my chin in mock thinking. “It’s probably because I’m in love with you then.”

Joel cocks his head slightly to the side, questioning my statement. I’m not sure why, as my love for him is no secret to me. 

“In love? Not was in love?”

Oh.

“I-”

The front door opens and Poppy walks in. I nearly jump out of my skin, having been completely absorbed in our conversation. Or was it more of a confession?

“Hey Mom! I’m only home to grab some clothes. Then I’m heading to Lyra’s. There’s this new girl in town, Ellie? She’s only 15 but she’s pretty cool. Oh.” Poppy had walked into the living room, her eyes, exactly like her father’s, shifting from me to Joel. I stand and Joel copies me, staying put while I walk around the couch towards Poppy.

“Mom..I didn’t know you had company. You never have company.” She thinks she’s speaking quietly but it’s not quiet enough. 

“Poppy-”

“I mean, I think it’s great, but….but…” Her eyes fully take in Joel, landing on his face as she stares, her eyes slowly widening in realization. She had only seen him in the photos I was able to share with her, a few printed ones and then some on the cell phone I had refused to toss away, carting it across the country along with a charger in hopes of finding power to charge it. 

“Dad?” Poppy whispers in disbelief.

Joel looks nervous, his weight shifting from foot to foot. This man has faced countless clickers, bandits, and worse, but meeting his 20 year old daughter is the thing that does him in?

God I love this man.

His hand comes up and does a little wave as he stares back at her, clearing his throat. “Hi. I’m uh… I’m Joel.”

“Dad!” Poppy drops her bag and runs, launching herself over the couch and straight into his arms, wrapping herself around him as she cries. It takes Joel a moment to recover from the intense reaction, but he wraps his arms around her and holds her, hugging her just as tight. Tears obstruct my vision and I blink quickly, trying to wipe them away so I don’t miss a moment of this meeting. 

Her feet back on the floor, Poppy pulls back, her eyes raking over Joel’s face. “Was I too much?”

Joel laughs, smiling down at his daughter. “Not enough.”

She laughs and he brings his hand to her face, wiping away her tears. “I’m sorry, Poppy.”

“For what?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t know-”

She waves her hand. “Mom told me everything. You never knew I existed and then the world went to shit. It’s ok. You’re here now and that’s what matters! Wait - you are staying right?”

Joel’s eyes shift from Poppy’s to mine and I look back at him waiting for an answer myself. I want him to stay, desperately need him to stay, but I understand if he wants to leave. I never asked if he had someone waiting for him somewhere.

“I don’t wanna step on you or your mom’s toes-”

Poppy blows a raspberry. “Step away! I know mom is thrilled you’re here. And I want to get to know my dad….dad… I can finally say that! ‘Hey, this is my dad!’ ‘Have you met my dad?’ I just…I can’t believe you’re here and not….not here.”

Clever way of saying dead.

“Me too, Poppy.”

“Mom, I know I said I would meet my friends, but-” she glances back at me and then smiles, giving me a knowing wink “-but I..will be going…to meet up with…Benny. Yeah, he’s uh probably waiting. For me. So I’ll just…grab my things and leave you two…alone…”

She is so not slick, but I love her so much. 

She gives me another wink before fully turning to Joel. “We can hangout and talk more?”

“I look forward to it.”

She squeals and gives him one more hug before bounding across the hall to her room and reemerging only a handful of minutes later with a backpack. 

“Poppy?”

“Mom?”

“Stay for dinner at least. Then you can meet up with your friends.”

“Ugh, mom. You’re smothering me.” She has a smile while she says it, casually tossing her bag down before sitting next to Joel. 

I make dinner while they talk, Poppy telling him about her life and asking him a zillion questions about his. He seems to be able to talk about Sarah now, at least a little before Poppy tactfully changes the topic. They talk throughout dinner, laughing and joking, sounds I never thought I’d hear together. Eventually, Poppy leaves to hang out with her friends, excited to tell them about her dad. As soon as the door closes, Joel turns to me.

“Who’s Benny?”

Protective dad mode activated I see. Smiling, I tell him about Benny and how he’s a good guy and about he and Poppy. He seems more relaxed after but still in protective dad mode.

“I’ll have to meet him.”

“I’m sure you won’t have the choice not to.”

Dishes cleaned up, I offer Joel a glass of whiskey and he takes it, tasting a sip before setting it down on the coffee table as he relaxes back into the couch again.

“You and Ellie have a place to stay?”

“Yeah. Tommy and Maria gave us a house. Actually, it’s not too far from here I don’t think.”

“That’s great. I’m sure Ellie will be happy to have a more permanent place to live.”

“And her own room that she can slam the door to.”

We chat for a few minutes about parenting teenage daughters and the challenges it can bring. He takes another sip of his whiskey after telling me a bit about Ellie, or what he learned about her on their long trek anyway. It’s quiet between us again, but this time, I’m warmed by the whiskey and given a slight bit of confidence.

“In love.”

“What?” Joel asks, setting his glass down.

“From before. In love. Not was.”

He turns to me fully, his eyes raking across my face trying to detect a lie and finding none. 

“It’s been 20 years, sweetheart. I don’t expect anythin’-”

“It’s always been you, Joel.”

His large hand cups the back of my head and pulls me to him, his lips crashing against mine and it’s like no time has passed, my lips immediately parting for him like they were created for just this purpose. His other hand comes up to cradle the other side of my head as my fingers cling to his shirt, trying to find purchase on literally anything. I feel like I’m falling but in the most glorious way possible. While I never gave up hope that he was alive, having him here, now, 20 years later, how we both defied odds to just end up in the same community, after the world had been torn apart…

He pulls back, his nose brushing against mine. “I never stopped loving you either, sweetheart.”

My hands slide up his chest and around his neck, gripping the curls at the back of his neck and feeling him groan as he slips his tongue in my mouth again, kissing me harder than before. I feel his fingers gently brush against the exposed skin at my hips, his hands having settled there and I can’t help the moan that escapes me. Joel’s touch has always sent electricity through me, but not having had it for 20 years is a whole new level. 

“I don’t mean to be presumptuous, sweetheart, but-”

“My bedroom is down the hall, second door on the right.”

He smiles against my lips, chuckling darkly. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

—----

>>I Never Stopped Living You Part 2>>

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Original Idea from @theewokingdead:

"I have had this idea for a long-lost love refound fic with Joel Miller swimming around in my head for a while, but I don't think I'll ever get in the headspace to write it. So enjoy what I wish I could write and hope someone will steal. Warning: mention of pregnancy in the beginning.

Imagine it's September 26, 2013. You've been dating Joel for a while and, oops, you're pregnant. You're a flurry of emotions and have no idea how or when you're going to tell him. He calls you late that night, on his way home from a hellish day at the jobsite, telling you about the prick of a contractor he's been dealing with and can't risk losing his job. When he asks if you've checked in on Sarah you tell him that she's fine and you're sorry you were feeling too ill to stay with her today. When he inquires further about your illness, you opt not to say anything, not like this, not when he's had a shit day, and instead feign that everything is okay and you'll be fine. The call is interrupted by Tommy, and you insist Joel answer his call. He offers to call you back, but you tell him to go home and get some rest, that you'll hopefully see him tomorrow.

Of course, several hours later, all hell breaks loose. You manage to get a call through to Joel, telling you to stay put, that he'll come for you, then you lose connection. Joel never finds you, but you never lose hope.

Two decades later, you're living in Jackson, having crossed paths with Tommy a year earlier when he returned to Texas, where you never strayed far from. You overhear the talk - that Tommy Miller's brother is in town - but bandits attack before you can find the source of the rumor. Later, you find Tommy as he puts a horse away in the stable, and you question if it's true, that Joel is here, and he reluctantly tells you he was. You ask if he told Joel that you're here and he says that he did. Your heart sinks - of course he wouldn't still love you after all these years, but why wouldn't he at least want to see you before he left? You ask if he told Joel about your daughter - his daughter - and Tommy says no, that it shouldn't come from his mouth. You're furious, thinking maybe Joel would've stayed in town if he had known that he has a daughter. You let Tommy have it, and eventually he tells you why Joel was in town and why he left, about Ellie and the hope to find a cure. Finally, you come to your senses, realizing there are far more important matters, and try to move on from dreaming about having a little family with a man you never stopped loving.

Months later, you're walking around town when you run into Joel. There are a million different ways the reunion could go. How would you tell him about your shared daughter? How would he feel? Would he be pissed at Tommy for knowing and not telling him when he first came to Jackson? Would he be angry you didn't tell him that night when he called, before the Outbreak? Would he have done anything differently that night had he known - things that could've changed the trajectory of his entire life? Would he wonder if it would have kept you guys together as a family? Would he wonder if it would have even kept Sarah from suffering the fate she suffered? Would he blame you for it? I just imagine it would be one big emotional reunion. How would it end? I don't know. I just love a good re-found love fic - be it happy or sad. I love angst. I love an emotional Joel. It could be fun. But I'll never get around to writing it so let's just pretend I did 😭"

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @Hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @diaryofkali @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @jadore-andor @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for keeping a huge secret from my mom?

so i (26ftm) moved back in with my parents a little over a year ago due to the housing market. shakes fist at sky. you know how it is. anyways, uh, while i may be a broke zillennial, my parents are fairly financially well off, and it's in part due to my father's job. my mom recently retired and my father keeps saying he's going to retire, but still keeps pushing it off (and has been pushing it off for about a decade now).

now uh, shortly before i moved in, my mom was telling me that she was having problems with my father. that this was "the third time this had happened" and "this is his last chance" - i think you may see where i'm going with this. he was cheating. for the third time. and she'd caught him, got them to go to couples therapy, and told him there would be no fourth chance. she was willing to move out of the house and start anew somewhere else if she needed to.

um. enter me, the apple of my dad's eye. i move in. one night my mom is off at a book club so it's just me and him for dinner. he opens his phone (up til this point i've noticed he looks at his phone A Lot.) and opens up wechat. he's calling someone "babe" and sending them red heart emojis. i instantly feel kind of sick. i ask him, "are you texting mom?" and he gets SO confused for a second and says no (i don't think he knew i'd seen his phone screen).

that was almost a year ago today. since then i have seen him text this other woman nonstop, has talked about starting a family with her, has talked about taking her with him on his "work trips," and - for some reason - i've seen him google straight-up escort websites on his phone. uh, that one was while my mom and i were in the middle of showing him old family videos.

i feel so fucking guilty. every time i see him i want to [REDACTED DUE TO TUMBLR GUIDELINES]. i lost my therapist that i had known for five years in the move, i lost my entire support network, and i still haven't found anything like that up here. i am completely isolated, and while i have my own job right now, i am in no way financially stable enough to find my own place to live. if i tell my mom, i don't know what's going to happen to me. i don't know if she will kick him out or if she will move. i am trying to move back to where i was living, but i just can't afford it. i feel completely trapped in this situation, and i know what the right thing to do is, but i am terrified that on top of losing my entire life a year ago, i'm about to lose everything else, too.

a large part of me wants to confront my father first, but i am also terrified of him. i know i'm his favorite, but i am well aware of his temper, and while he's never physically harmed me, i feel like the situation might be a bit different if i'm the person that might get him divorced and ostracized from the entire family. i don't know. i honestly have no idea. everything is so confusing and i just have felt frozen for an entire year.

but the other night i saw him texting her again. she's mentioned she had been feeling sick lately and he told her that she might be pregnant. i was so close to losing it. i almost ripped his phone out of his hand and smashed it on the ground. i couldn't look him in the eye. i could barely even speak to him. maybe the funniest part about this is that he doesn't realize anything is wrong. he's a fucking narcissist and doesn't pay the slightest bit of attention to how other people act around him.

the next day, he was gone for another "work trip".

i am run completely ragged and i don't know how much longer i can take this. i find myself wishing someone else could take it out of my hands so that i don't have to be responsible for destroying our whole family.

anyways. am i the asshole for being a coward?

a bit of extra INFO as well though: as far as i'm aware, my parents are in a bit of a dead bedroom situation (frankly. my mom likes to oversshare.) so uh. at the very least i know she's not getting whatever diseases my dad surely must have by now.

What are these acronyms?

[charmingpplincardigans]

How’s everyone doing? I’ll go first, I’m bad!

I have been ~*~struggling~*~ since mid-September and in the last two weeks it has just gotten unbearable. I feel like I’m drowning all the time. I’m having trouble keeping up with and reaching out to people I want to talk to. And that’s like, on top of always having been bad at getting back to people. *stares forlornly at the ask Chaz sent me like, literally two years ago that I think about daily but just. haven’t. RESPONDED TO.*

Things are just. Closing in on all sides unfortunately. I’ve been sick several times. I bounced this month’s rent check. A thing I had NEVER DONE BEFORE IN MY LIFE before this last move. My job is literally never going to pay me what I’m worth. Or anyone what they’re worth, frankly. I broke down in front of my boss the other day and just sobbed for an hour because after I pay my bills every paycheck I have just enough left over to buy groceries for two weeks, if I’m careful, and little else. Which means I’m putting stuff like gas on credit cards, which isn’t helping the debt that makes me feel like drowning in the first place.  I’ve been at this job SEVENTEEN YEARS. A steady, corporate job. And I’ve never once in my entire time there made an actual cost of living raise!! The cost of living just keeps raising without me! (And also everyone else, I know!)

I’m super overdue on getting people the art they commissioned from me, but my brain just hasn’t been in a good enough place to create much of anything, and I keep thinking I have to get this done and then thinking they deserve better than this, around and around on a loop ad finitum. And there are a couple of other things going on personally that just fucking blow that I don’t know how to fix and I’m just gonna choke on it.

I haven’t done any fandom stuff since NYCC. I haven’t written on my WIP. I haven’t read fic. I don’t check in on the madness happening on twitter. I’ve barely popped my head into my favorite pirate group chat over the last five months or so. I miss doing all of that so much and my stupid brain is so broken that even when I try I can’t enjoy it.

Shit. I’m having a hard time getting work work done. I just sit down at my desk every day, answer emails, and then spend five or so hours frozen with anxiety because there’s too much to do and doing nothing is only making it worse every day.

I need to be back in therapy ASAP, but unfortunately you can’t eat therapy so I can’t pay for it!!

And I feel guilty saying any of this to almost everyone I would usually talk to. (Congrats and condolences to the rest of you!) Because they’re having a harder time than me. Or because they’d just want to give me a bit of money about it, which would fuck me up even more. Or because it’s just tedious and boring and no one wants to listen to me talk about this over and over again, even though it’s all my brain does every hour of every day. It’s a wonder I’m ever able to talk about anything else.

My boss is pretty great, in spite of it all. She’s constantly supportive (to the extent she can be), and she just. She tells me all the time how creative and wonderful and smart and cool to know I am. And every time I just like, tear up, because none of it feels true. But I also tear up when my friends and my partner say those things too. Because to me, a full grown adult without a savings or a 401K or the ability to like, go get drinks just because I want to, I feel like a complete and utter failure.  So like. Whatever I guess!!

I need to find a new job that pays me way more. Then I can get a therapist to fix my brain and save money to pay down my debts and have money to have fun with my friends and not feel like a constant financial burden on everyone. Then I can have the brain power back to maybe work on my fic or complete that art or like, I don’t know, talk to the people who actively want to talk to me. You wouldn't think that part would be so hard, but it really, really is.

I’m working on it. I’ll keep working on it. I have LinkedIn open right now. I’m gonna fucking sob through it, but that doesn’t mean none of it will get done.

In the meantime, if anyone knows of a good way to make a quick $30 grand, I’m all ears.

[komorezuki]

Unnamed Duke of the Hell, part 2

My thinking about The Infernal Lady is getting a sequel unexpectedly. After comment of @embracing-the-ineffable I had checked whether Lady participated in demon invasion. And she did.

She and her unnamed colleague from the Dark Council (so he is definitely not Ligur) are staying on either side of Eric.

Top view. What a luxurious ginger braid. And it looks like her duke compaion has black and grey split hair. Does anyone have an idea about what animal is he associated?

@yronnia gave me a good idea that her look might be a reference to unknown deity or spirit because of the unusual crown. Her long braid coupled with crown that looks like kokoshnik suggest slavic goddess as a variant. I can also suggest reference to mexican Calavera with a wreath. But in both cases her black strip on the forehead seems to stand out from the image.

Also the Lady has a little hat pin on her halo.

And at last they both will be discorporated. Even Hastur has done it with more style in a burning car.

What an inglorious and strange fail for dukes, isn't it? I am still convinced that they are not ordinary demons or secretaries. You will not call secretaries as "their maleficences". Dukes' presence on Earth can be explained by the fact that they both were witnesses of Furfur's endeavors and now they are verifying that Furfur was right. Though they could have realize that 4 years ago..... But Dukes of the Hell totally don't need to attack themselves.

...unless they were demoted. What if Hell wipes memory of guilty demons as the Heaven does? And a bottom of the barrel demon equals to 38th degree Angel scrivener. I will not imagine any reason of demoting - it might be literally everything - and I am writing it just as a possible version. On the other hand they would change their clothes after demotion, but this doesn't happen. Anyway i really don't want my Lady to be excluded from the Dark Council, she is soooo beautiful.

[primofate]

Hey Primo! This is only my opinion so please don't take it to heart. I remember reading your post about how bad the interaction (at the time) was with one of your posts. I felt a bit odd about it considering it was only 1 day apart and notes etc normally pick up over the span of a few days/weeks. I think that when writers reach to a point where they crave to hear what others think of their work, is when writing no longer becomes a fun pastime if that is what it originally intended to be. There was also someone that made a comment stating that alot of writers can't take criticism though they ask for it which is completely true. It's a constant back n' forth where at the end of the day we'll never truly be able to satisfy everyone. You'll just drive yourself mad (case in point, you're someone that normally gets thousands of notes but this time merely 1 day of little interaction seemed to have gotten to you which is extremely unhealthy.)

You're an amazing writer and overall genuine person. Don't let things like this eat away at you.

I quote from your post

You'll just drive yourself mad (case in point, you're someone that normally gets thousands of notes but this time merely 1 day of little interaction seemed to have gotten to you which is extremely unhealthy.)

Which is extremely true and it is very unhealthy that I expected so much out of that post when in truth I should know that not all of my posts is going to have thousands of notes. Some will reach further some will not, and that's something I should understand and accept.

Though I do agree with you that posts pick up over a couple of days... sometimes, for me who has a few thousand followers, if it doesn't pick up the first few hours and doesn't get reblogged the first few hours, it actually won't pick up anymore. At the moment it has 2,000 or so notes, unless someone revives it, it will actually remain stagnant and will even have difficulty climbing to 3,000. (This is the reason why you see some authors reblog their own post and caption it "in case you missed it #icymi "because it actually won't move anymore if they don't do that)

But here's the thing, the notes is not what really got to me. Yes that was part of it, but what really bugged me is that I spent so much time on that one post and I realized that I shouldn't have. Realizing that my TIME is now more precious than it was a year ago. Which ties in to what you said about it being unhealthy. Tumblr is not something I should spend my time on, to be quite frank. I love doing this, but I hate so much that I forgo something when I do it (e.g. Time with my family).

Thus my 10 minute quick writes was born, after realizing this fact. In that way I don't spend so much time in front of the computer, mulling over my writing, re-reading it, wondering how I can make the words flow better. Wondering how to make the words and story clearer in my mind and everyone else's. With the 10 minute quick writes, I don't really give a freak who read it, who interacts with it, who likes it...because it only took 10 minutes of my life (I actually put a 10 minute timer on whenever I feel like writing now) and some day when I have more time, then maybe I can write something longer but honestly, right now, I would rather not.

Thank you so much for your message! It has cemented me back to Earth, cause even with my 10 minute quick write I had felt guilty that I only wrote such a short thing...but reading your message has told me there's nothing to feel guilty about, specially when I MYSELF am already happy with doing 10 minutes of writing, regardless of what tumblr thinks.

<3

With love,

primofate

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Mirage Introducing You To The Other Autobots

Mirage X Human FemReader

Rating: None

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3k

Requested by Anonymous

Part 1 here

(A/N:) This was a request I had gotten a little bit ago and the requester has asked to remain anonymous. Which I can 100% respect and it shall stay that way. I wanted to get this done while I am on hiatus and after this is posted I will still remain on hiatus as I have so many things to do in time for next month plus several ideas that I need to get done. I have over 50 things in my drafts and a certain story I need to finish as well. My requests will still remain closed and my posting will still be few and far between. My family and I are still taking the loss of our cat we had over 16 years rough so please bear with me. I’m working as fast and much as I can. But anyway I really enjoyed this request and I hope the requester finds it everything they hoped for. Thank you for requesting and considering me worthy enough to do it. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope to see more Mirage requests in the future when I open them back up! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Mirage had been gone for a little while and you never realized how big of a part he had become in your life until he no longer came around. For a couple weeks you would go back to the usual meeting spot only for him to not show up. You would stay for a couple hours hoping that he would show up while keeping yourself busy by sketching the scenery, but you couldn’t wait forever. At first you worried something horrible happened to him, until you started to think that maybe you had made him mad and he no longer wanted to see you. The thought made you a little depressed as you couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing the goofy Autobot ever again. You stopped going for about a month now, as the disappointment at not seeing him was too much to stand anymore. But your heart longed to go once again, just to see if he had started to coming back again. You never realized how much those little moments (and even the stupid heart pounding joy rides) meant to you. 

Despite telling yourself that it was stupid, that possibly you were just delusional. That it was all just a dream and that it was a possibility that you were beginning to go crazy. But despite telling yourself these things mentally, you found yourself at the same spot gazing out at the scenery with your sketchbook on your lap. Despite the surrounding noises echoing through the air, you focused on the scratching of your pencil against the paper. Losing yourself in a fantasy that you could hear the rumble of Mirage’s familiar engine mixing in with the noisy bustle of strangers’ lives. Until you swore you heard it again, but this time closer. The movement of your pencil stopped and hit the paper as a mismatched Porsche of different colored and rusty parts skidded around the curve. A welcome honk piercing the air before the Porsche began to transform kicking up dust before revealing the mech you missed so dearly.

“Mirage,” you shouted tossing everything to the ground before racing towards him. He beamed brightly giving you a guilty wave until you clung to him tightly. Despite promising you wouldn’t cry if this day ever came, your emotions betrayed you as tears stung your eyes.

“Miss me,” he teased poking at your wet cheek.

“Shut up,” you growled not really in the mood for his teasing. Maybe you were dreaming or maybe this was just wishful thinking? You didn’t care at the moment nor did you want to think about it too hard. Mirage patiently waited for you to finish your moment of emotional release. You sniffed loudly, wiping at your eyes before stepping away. He still had that smug grin on his face which made you stick out your tongue in defiance.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he snorted. “I missed you too.”

“Stupid mech,” you muttered. “Where were you? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

He rubbed the back of his head, the human like gesture not lost on you, as he seemed to move anxiously with guilt on his face.

“It’s a long story,” he replied. “One that I promise to tell you in full later, but there’s something I have to do first.”

“Are you leaving again,” you mumbled as you felt the sorrow of him leaving beginning to drown you.

“Technically yes,” Mirage replied. “But you’re coming with me this time.”

“Really?!”

“Yep,” Mirage grinned. “Got some friends I’d like you to meet. Starting with my best bud! C’mon out Noah!”

You glanced at Mirage in confusion before movement caught your eye. A young man rounded the corner sheepishly waving before he glared up at the mech. He awkwardly walked towards you before offering his hand for you to shake.

“If it wasn’t for Noah here I wouldn’t be standing at all honestly. Despite the terrible paint job.”

“Shut up man,” Noah retorted.

That gave you some explanation on Mirage’s new less sleek look. After a little further explanation from Mirage, you and Noah were sitting inside Mirage’s cab cruising down the highway to a place that Mirage was being a little too secretive about. You scratched at the nylon of the seat belt while you watched the scenery go by.

“Mirage is a bit much ain’t he,” Noah spoke up causing you to jump at the sudden break in the quiet.

“Just a little bit,” you answered, causing the mech to scoff.

“I am a joy and you two know it,” he retorted.

“Hush,” you slapped his dash, “ the grown-ups are talking. Autobots need to keep quiet and watch the road.”

Said Autobot grumbled his displeasure but blessedly remained silent while you and Noah talked. Conversing eased you back into a sense of calm as you couldn’t help but be nervous while Mirage was being vague. When Mirage finally screeched to a halt in front of an abandoned warehouse you really began to get nervous. Why could he possibly want to bring you to such a place? You hadn’t seen him in forever and he brings a new friend and takes you to a place that could easily be seen as a crime scene. You began to wonder if this mech you were with was even Mirage. Which seemed silly how many talking, living, transforming robots were even on Earth let alone this city? That question was answered quickly as vehicles of all makes and colors began to drive out of the warehouse.

“Meet my fellow Autobots,” Mirage gestured. You stood there stiffly watching the vehicles transform just like Mirage. The biggest one that happened to be a semi scared you the most as you felt a tense aura surrounding him.

“This is Optimus Prime, the leader,” Mirage gestured to the bigger mech. “Here is Bumblebee, Arcee, and Wheeljack.”

“Hi,” you spoke timidly the whole group of transformers causing you to panic just a little bit.

“Okay,” Mirage sat down roughly before patting the concrete beside him. “I owe you a huge explanation.”

You plopped down right beside him, “Yes you do.”

Your mind whirled at all the information pouring forth. So far the only thing you could keep straight was something named Unicron had tried to destroy Earth and the Autobots stopped him with another team that transformed into animals and basically Mirage gave up his life. It was only because of Noah that he was here today. The other Autobots put in a few other details they thought Mirage had missed and by the end you were ready to take a nap. It was a lot but the one thing you weren’t confused was the sense of gratitude for Mirage and his fellow Autobots. If it hadn’t been for them, you wouldn’t even had a life to miss Mirage and you were glad that you finally got to meet the rest of them.

“It’s a lot to process,” Arcee spoke.

“It is,” you agreed before standing up. “But one thing that is easy to understand is thank you. Thank you all so much. I had no idea and none of you had to, but you saved our world anyway.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Optimus spoke, “while we live on your planet.”

“Hey,” you laughed, “stay as long as you want to. Sounds like we could use some protectors like you.”

Optimus nodded and Mirage’s optics began to gleam brighter in glee. He scooped you up pressing you against his metal cheek. You chuckled pressing against him in your version of a hug. Despite everything you were so glad that you met Mirage and you were glad he brought you here. You found yourself realizing that you wanted to remain here and get to know the others better. It wouldn’t take long for you to consider the other Autobots a friend as well as Mirage set you down in the middle of all of them. This was your life now and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret one moment of it.

[b-lessings]

On a super serious note, I know in modern day psychology it is advised not to bring up " faith " to a depressed person or someone struggling with their mental health because it might backfire, and it might cause them to feel guilty, feel like a not good enough Muslim for example, worse still, they could risk to denounce the whole concept altogether in a moment of anger or despair. However, reflecting on my personal experience. A couple of years ago I was on SSRIs and I suffered strong side effects and decided to go off of them all by myself (I totally do not recommend that). And now I am thinking how did I manage to wire my brain in a way it reabsorbs little miss Sarah Tonin on its own after that? What was the " agent " that helped my brain to function properly if I went off of my SSRIs ? Only to find that the answer was Eman. Faith. And learning to have tawakkul on Allah swt, learning how to shape your life around Allah swt, learning how to make Allah swt the center of your life and the essence of your existence, relate everything to Him swt, understand everything through Him swt. That's what got me afloat and then brought me back to shore. Sübhanallah. But, not to romanticize the struggle , I am well aware that writing comments like " you should read Quran" or " go make prayer " to someone who's opening up about their depression or any similar draining mental illnesses can sound very insensitive. You have to understand that this person may not be able to lift their head off of their pillow or leave their bed for days. The role Eman plays here starts in the heart. The light needs to sneak through the cracks of their heart, and that is something only Allah swt is capable of doing. They just have to be open to let that light enter. I think what I wanted with this is for it to be a little message of hope, a sign if you're looking for one, whatever you're going through, you'll overcome it, I promise. We all did. We are all still here, with hearts beating, loving, and worshipping their Creator. Alhamdullillah. Turn toward Him and rely on Him, because that's the only way out.

May Allah swt mend all broken hearts, tired hearts, sinking hearts. May Allah swt revive the dead hearts,make them flourish with the beauty of Eman, brigng them closer to Him and show them His straight path. Ameen.

- A.Z. 🤍🍃

[mxargo]

cold - spencer reid

summary: spencer is ready to give love another chance, but after maeve he might not be able to.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

word count: idk

warnings: mentions of past death.

bold italics are you singing to spencer.

based on the song: cold by novo amor.

p.s, i made this so long ago, just clearing out my drafts.

I miss her. i still think about the different futures we could of had, and I didn't even get to touch her.

for some reason, maeve was all I could think about when I'd see y/n.

maybe cause I was falling again.

y/n was perfect. she really was. her laugh, her smile, the way she'd pick out flowers or hand out soft pastries when someone was upset. her warmth and her happiness was contagious.

I couldn't get her out of my mind since I had met her. but when I thought of y/n, I thought of maeve. I felt so guilty and I didn't even know why. it's been four years. I should have gotten over this by now.

maeves gone. I thought I'd accepted that a long time ago. maybe I didn't and just pushed those feelings down, derek always mentioned I did that way too often, but I didn't mind it then.

y/n is here. she's alive, and she's always been there for me. which was only a couple of years but it always counted. I confined to her in so much. more so than the rest of the team, I trust her with my life.

when I got sent to prison she sat on the other side of the glass, looking at me with those beautiful eyes I fell in love with. I didn't want to fall in love again, but I did.

it's not like y/n and I are together, we're not. but, she deserves better. better than someone whose going to think of another girl whose already a ghost. I want to make myself a good enough person for y/n. she deserves that.

more than anyone.

y/n can sing. she sings to me when I'm sad. she sings to me when I practically break into her apartment and fall into her arms. she knows right away how to make me feel better. the same thing over and over again and I love it.

she takes her hand and and plays with my hair while the other rubs my shoulder. it's perfect, like a routine. I'm sad, and I need y/n. she's always here for me, even when I've managed to piss her off sometimes.

but here I am again, in y/n arms as she plays with my hair and rubs little hearts on my skin. her hands are so soft and soothing, which is probably why I end up falling asleep, either to that or her singing. maybe both.

"Heal your frays, just to know you'll wear them thin again. Peel off the name, that i gave and I knew you were within. Forget our nave, the summer spent within"

listening to her washes away everything.

"For all that its worth now you were worth it in the end. For all off your worth I would lapse and fall again. For all that its worth I would have loved you until the end"

I wish I could give her the everything she deserves.

"But i'm cold in your heart and you're branded into mine"

I want to be better. I want to be hers.

Bruise the hope, our endeavour would ever see the light"

I loved maeve. I did, but she's gone now.

"Choose your own, i'll face the world knowing that you've grown"

I love y/n, with everything in me.

"And i'll leave your curls and move past alone"

I want a future with someone, I always have. a wife, kids, a family. I want that.

"For all that its worth now you were worth it in the end. For all off your worth I would lapse and fall again"

I want to protect y/n, I can't lose her too.

"For all that its worth I would have loved you until the end. But i'm cold in your heart and you're branded into mine"

all I can do is look up at her and smile, curling back up against her letting the darkness take over.

she's everything now. hopefully forever.