#the norm was for us to have to wait until a couple days before for the chapters to be uploaded even if there wasnt that much going on

[joelscurls]

to the ends of the earth

pt ii of feel it in your bones | epilogue

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12k

summary: You spend the week of Spring Break in Austin with your long-distance-boyfriend Joel. As you settle into a comfortable routine together, questions regarding your future arise.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), fluff, angst (ik ik i’m sorry), smut, phone sex, masturbation (f, m), semi-public touching, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie, soft dom!Joel, hair pulling, tiniest bit of nipple play, implied oral (f receiving), brief mention of shower sex, use of pet names (darlin’, baby, etc.)

a/n: i’m honestly so overwhelmed with all the positive feedback I got on part 1 - thank you all so much! there will be a part 3 in the form of a lil epilogue, so stay tuned for more of these two! as always, ty to @caffeinated-validation for giving this your eyes <3

Long distance sucks. 

It’s been six months to the day since Homecoming Weekend, five since you and Joel put a label on things: “exclusive”. Not like you’d been talking to anyone else. Since Joel left Vermont that first time, he’d occupied your mind, made a home there, nestled deep between grooves of soft brain matter. 

He’s been back a couple of times since. Quick weekend trips — much like the first one — just without the bad art and couch surfing. And each time he’s come and gone has been more painful than the last. More memories to reminisce on when you lay in bed alone. More words exchanged to drown in. You feel as if your heart has been ripped apart and stitched haphazardly back together every time he slips from your embrace.

The last time you’d seen him in person was New Year’s, when you’d rented a cabin in the Green Mountains, watched Joel react to his first snow, exchanged I love yous for the first time under falling flurries. 

It feels now as if it were a lifetime ago.

It’s never enough — time, kisses, touches. It’s all so fleeting. You want, more than anything, to burrow into Joel’s chest and make a permanent residence there. To go with him where he goes, be with him where he is, always. 

But you know you can’t — it’s not realistic. You have your life here, and Joel has his there. You remind yourself of this fact more times a day than you’d like to admit. 

You will be with him again soon enough, though, and for the longest stint of time yet. An entire week in Texas, you and Joel. 

The thought of it keeps you going in the leadup to spring break.

It’s the night before your flight, an early-morning departure from Burlington International Airport. You’ve waited until the last minute to pack, so here you are, hovering above your suitcase — which lays sprawled out on your bed — aimlessly throwing pairs of underwear and t-shirts into the main compartment. 

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. A much welcomed distraction. 

And then you notice that it’s Joel calling. 

Your heart skips a beat. You answer. Put it on speaker-phone. 

“Hello?,” you purr, flopping down on the small empty space on the bed. 

“Hi baby,” he drawls, his voice so sweet and saccharine it makes you melt. “All packed?” 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m ready.” 

“Me too,” he says. “So ready. I miss you.”

“I miss you,” you parrot. “How was your day?”

He sighs. “Fine, I guess. Had a bunch’a loose ends to tie up at this site before Tommy takes over for the week. A lot’a back and forth on the phone, orderin’ shit.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I hope you won’t be stressed all week thinking about it.”

He hums, so deep it vibrates through the phone. It goes straight to your core. “Impossible, babygirl. Once I have you here, ‘m not gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout anything else.”

Your face heats. An unignorable pang of desire swells in your chest.

“Joel,” you say, desperation already coloring your voice.

“Yeah?”

“I need you.”

Phone sex has become somewhat of a norm for you and Joel, that overwhelming need to be close to one another manifesting as desperate touches of your own fingers and half-coherent pleas through the speaker. It’s rare that a bedtime conversation between the two of you doesn’t end in panting down the line, telling each other goodnight through labored, satiated breaths.

Tonight, your need for him is bordering on carnal, carving into your skin like a sharp blade. You know you’ll have him tomorrow, and a number of days after that, but still, it feels so intangible, unreal. Like you can’t let yourself fully believe it until he’s in your arms. 

And so you need him — right now — in any way you can have him.

“You wanna touch yourself?” 

“Yes Joel — please.”  

“Fuck babygirl,” he breathes. “Okay. Lemme take care’a you.” 

You slip your fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants impatiently. You feel yourself through the thin fabric of your panties and, unsurprisingly, you’re soaked. It’s like you’ve been pavloved  — like all you need is the sound of Joel’s voice, soft and deep like crushed velvet, and you’re gone  — every single time.

“I’m so wet,” you mewl. 

Joel groans on the other end. He sounds almost pained, like not being there to feel you, to taste you, is physically hurting him. If it is though, he covers it up well, snapping his attention back to you like a reflex. 

“You still got your pants on?,” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Take ‘em off for me. And your panties.”

You do as he says, pulling your sweatpants and underwear down in one tug, letting them bunch at your ankles. 

“They’re off,” you say. 

“Good. Now touch yourself baby, go ahead.”

You shallowly dip two fingers into the pool of arousal that’s formed between your thighs. Then you glide slick digits over your aching clit, back and forth, a quiet whimper slipping from your mouth.

“‘ts it, darlin’,” he coos, “rub that pretty pussy for me.”

You pretend your fingers are his — bigger, rougher ��� as you increase the pressure you’re applying and begin to rub tight circles against your clit. The thought of your touches being his, instead, leaves you failing to swallow back a moan.

“Joel – ngh – it feels good.”

“‘Good, baby,” he says. “Doin’ so good for me.”

You keep going, your breaths becoming increasingly uneven, your hips inadvertently canting off the bed in an attempt to create more friction. You can sense that you’re dripping onto the duvet below you, staining it with your arousal. You’re way past caring at this point — you just need to cum.

You bring your other hand between your thighs, teasing your entrance. You sigh when you find how much wetter you’ve gotten in just a few minutes. You’re sure Joel must be able to hear the lewd slickslickslick of your fingers swirling against your sopping cunt — which he confirms when he curses under his breath.

“Fuck; that all for me, darlin’?”

“Mhm,” you moan.

“Gonna fuck yourself with your fingers for me? Cum all over ‘em, imaginin’ it’s my cock, instead?”

“Yes,” you cry. “Please, Joel, need your cock so bad.” 

“I know babygirl, I know.”

You push two fingers inside as deep as you can get them, crooking them against your walls until you find that spongy spot. You fuck yourself in time with the fingers rubbing your clit, your pace reflexively increasing when you start to feel that familiar warmth growing in your abdomen.

You feel it build, up up up — and then it falls, fading completely. 

“Fuck,” you murmur. 

You don’t relent. But again and again, even with the perfect amount of pressure applied to your clit and the fingers in your pussy curved just right, you find your orgasm just out of reach. You let out a frustrated whine, your movements stalling completely. You can’t get there, not like this, not alone. 

“Joel,” you punch out, “need you to touch yourself. Need you to cum with me.”

He inhales a sharp breath through his teeth. “Fuck, sweetheart — okay.”

You hear a faint clink of his belt on the other side of the phone, followed by the telltale whir of a zipper. There’s rustling over the line. When you hear him sigh, you know his cock is in his hand. And then there’s a shift in his breathing, subtle, but enough that you pick up on it. Evidence that he’s started stroking himself.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Miss that perfect little cunt so bad, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you again. Gonna ruin you.”

You love when he talks to you like this — when he loses himself in it and his tongue works faster than his brain. You’d never imagined when you first met him, reserved, quiet Joel, that he could be so filthy.

“Tell me —“ you plead — “tell me how you’re gonna fuck me, Joel.”

“Fuck, gonna get you in my bed, burry my face between your legs until you’re beggin’ me to stop…”

“Shit,” you gasp, your fingers stuttering at his words.

“‘N then ’m gonna fill you up with this cock, make you go dumb on it, fuck you so good your eyes roll back in your head.”

You whimper. You know he’s not just all talk from experience, and the thought of him fulfilling all these promises so soon has you plummeting toward the brink. As long as he keeps going, keeps talking, you’re not going to last another minute. 

“Gonna make you soak it, make you cum all over my fuckin’ cock. Fuck — swear ’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

You feel your orgasm approaching again. But it’s not waning, not this time. You chase it, letting Joel’s words run on a loop in your head: gonna fill you up with this cock, gonna make you feel so good, bury my face between your legs until you’re beggin’, gonna make you go dumb on it, gonna make you feel so good, so good, so good…

“So close Joel,” you breathe. “So fucking close.”

“‘ts it, darlin’”, he says, his voice strained. “‘m right behind you — shit — let me hear you cum. Wanna — ahh — wanna hear you.” 

That’s all it takes, just his encouragement, and you’re cumming so hard the room spins.

You can faintly register Joel talking you through it, able to make out a string of good girls through ringing ears. When you finally start to come down, you can tell he’s nearing his own climax, panting down the line as your own breaths begin to even.

“Please Joel,” you beg. “Please cum for me.”

He lets out a low growl, and then your name is spilling from the tip of his tongue, over and over again, in between strangled moans. 

The line is quiet for a moment, apart from you and Joel’s shallow breathing. 

“Fuck,” he says when he’s recovered from his orgasm, “how many hours til you get here?

You laugh. “I don’t know — too many.”

“Yeah, too many,” he agrees. 

There’s another lull. You yawn exasperatedly, only now realizing how exhausted you are. An earth shattering orgasm will do that to you, you guess.

Joel chuckles on the other end.

“Go to bed, baby. It’ll make the time go faster.”

You sigh. You don’t want to hang up. Don’t want to be without him again. But he’s right. He usually is — though you’d never admit it out loud.

“Yeah, okay,” you acquiesce after a moment.

“I love you,” he hums. 

“I love you too, Joel.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he adds.

You smile. You’re glad he can’t see you right now, can’t see how ridiculously giddy he makes you. 

“Me either,” you say. “Goodnight.”

“Night, darlin’.”

You’re still grinning like an idiot when you hang up the phone. You lay there for a few minutes, just staring at the ceiling, willing time to move faster.

Eventually you peel yourself off the bed and finish packing. You throw in some lacy bras you know Joel will love — if you end up wearing any real clothes this week, that is. Then you zip your suitcase shut, toss it onto the floor somewhere, and slip under the covers. 

You flick your bedside lamp off with a sigh, and begin your attempt to coax sleep. You are tired, but you’re more excited.

When you finally do drift off — at some ungodly hour of the morning — you dream of Joel, of his large arms wrapped around you, his honeyed voice in your ear. Tomorrow, he whispers, again and again. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

You wake up the next morning with butterflies the size of baseballs in your stomach. You get to the airport unnecessarily early, make it through security in record time, and plant yourself down at your gate with a coffee in hand two hours before your scheduled departure. 

Your body is practically vibrating in your seat, only partially due to the caffeine. Joel will no doubt still be asleep at this hour, so you shoot him a text to wake up to: 

at the airport, all checked in. can’t wait to see you, cowboy <3

And then you send one to Sarah, who you know will be awake, her study-abroad trip to Cambodia meaning she’s probably studying or eating dinner right now.

On my way to see your dad; miss you! Can’t wait to hear all about your studies sometime soon :) 

She almost immediately responds:

Yay! Miss you both so much! Yes, talk soon pls - lots to catch you up on. The professors here want me to stay forever (I won’t, dw, need to be able to bother you and my dad on a more regular basis).

You laugh to yourself. 

Sarah had been thrilled when she’d found out about your relationship. Had been way too proud of herself for setting you up. When you’d learned she’d faked sick the night you met Joel at the art exhibition, you’d found yourself unable to feign disapproval. How could you care, really, when you’d ended the night straddling him, kissing him?

Not that you’d told her that, of course. She didn’t need to know every detail of that weekend.

It had been…interesting, to say the least, navigating a long-distance-something with the father of one of your students. But Sarah hadn’t pried, even when you’d suspected she wanted to. She’d let it bloom into something more, something real, before beginning to pester you with the questions: isn’t he the worst cook? do you think you guys will get married? can I be your maid of honor if you do?

To which you’d responded: yes (affectionately), I don’t know, and of course you can.

You’ll miss her this week, but another part of you — a more selfish part — is thrilled to have a week alone with Joel, without any distractions. 

So thrilled, you can barely steady your shaking hands enough to plug your phone into the outlet under your seat.

You scroll mindlessly on social media as it charges until it’s time to board. Then you’re shuffling single-file down the aisle of the plane to your row, hauling your suitcase into the overhead, and taking your seat next to the window.

It’s your first flight of two, separated by a three-hour layover. You make it to Philadelphia in just over an hour, halfway through the cheesy 2000s rom-com you’d selected on the inflight entertainment screen. You make a mental note to finish it on the next leg.

You get lunch once you’ve tracked down your new gate  — pay seventeen bucks for a soggy airport sandwich and a bag of chips that, upon opening, is mostly air. When you sit down to eat, you notice that Joel texted you back.

Got one foot out the front door already. Can’t wait to see you babygirl.

You can’t help the embarrassing smile that pulls across your face. 

You re-read the text no less than ten times before you board your next flight — then once more for good measure just before you put your phone on airplane-mode and shove it in your sweatshirt pocket. 

This is it, you think as the wheels lift off the ground and the clouds come closer into view. No more countdown. It’s here.

You have to refrain from sprinting off of the plane as soon as it’s landed in Austin.

You grab your suitcase from the overhead with reckless abandon, nearly knocking another piece of luggage out of the compartment and onto a passing flight attendant. 

“Shit, sorry,” you curse. 

She glares at you, unamused. 

“I’m just…I’m meeting someone here,” you ramble. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Too excited.” 

She nods. Pops her gum. “Mhm. Have a good day, ma’am. Thanks for flying with us.” 

You keep your head down as you disembark.

It’d been a packed flight, and so you find yourself weaving through the crowd that’s gathered at the gate as you exit, around parents who have stopped to tie their kids’ shoes and solo travelers pausing to book their ride shares.

You check your phone as you walk, unwilling to waste even a fraction of a second. Find the directions buried in the text thread between you and Joel detailing how to get from your terminal to the passenger pickup area. 

You follow them, suitcase rolling behind you as you trudge along, down a couple escalators and through a corridor.

You round one last corner — and then you see him, standing with his back to a pillar, hands anxiously fiddling at his sides. 

Now you are sprinting.

Your suitcase is abandoned somewhere behind you as you run toward Joel. He doesn’t see you at first. You make it a few feet, shoes squeaking on tile, before his head snaps up and his eyes catch yours. And then he’s bounding forward, meeting you in the middle, your bodies colliding, hard. 

He throws both arms around you, squeezes you so tightly you think your blood vessels may burst. You accept your fate willingly, breathing him in, letting your hands rove along his broad back.

He smells like pine and worn leather and Joel. 

He feels like home. 

He bruises a kiss in your hair, whispering against your scalp in disbelief: baby, you’re here.

You stand wrapped up together for a long moment, Joel rocking you back and forth as you catch your breath. Then you pull apart to look at each other. 

Only then does it begin to sink in — Joel is right in front of you, touching you — and you’re about to spend a whole week together.

“C’mere,” he drawls, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing his lips into yours. It’s a slow kiss, punctuated by gentle strokes of his fingertips along your jaw. Your tongue rolls against his and your fingers anchor into his shirt collar. It simultaneously feels like it lasts forever and not nearly long enough.

“C’mon,” he whispers against your lips when you part. “Let’s go home, darlin.”

You grab your forgotten suitcase and pull it behind you with one hand, the other in Joel’s as you walk to his truck. It’s parked just outside, at the curb, hazard lights blinking. 

“Was supposed to wait here for you,” he explains as he opens the passenger door, helping you in. He takes your suitcase, throws it onto the backseat like it weighs nothing. 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you smile as he gets into the driver’s seat. “Felt like a rom-com — I liked it.” 

“Yeah,” he says, turning his key in the ignition. His cheeks flush. “I liked it too.”

You stop for fast food on the way to Joel’s — Whataburger, naturally. They don’t have these in Vermont, so you try to savor your burger, but your long day of travel has you ravenous, so you wolf it down, ketchup smearing on the corners of your mouth between bites. Joel just laughs at you from the driver’s seat, piece of lettuce lodged between his front teeth. 

You get it for him — fingernails prodding at his gums, but he lets you. Even sighs at the contact. When you flick the leaf off your fingertip, he pulls you in for a kiss, much softer than the one you shared in the airport, but dizzying, nonetheless. “Better?,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if he’s asking about his teeth or you, but both are true, so you hum affirmingly. 

You sink back into your seat, adjusting your seatbelt where it’s tightened around your neck.

You feel full and drowsy as you throw your trash into the paper bag the food came in, tucking it by your feet. 

You let your head rest against the window. The glass rattles against your skull as the truck begins to move, but you ignore it, too tired to care. And then you let your eyes shut —  just to rest them — that’s all.

You don’t remember falling asleep. 

You come to when you feel Joel at your side, trying to move you from the passenger seat. 

“Baby,” you hear him say. Your eyes flutter open. He brings a hand up to your face, peeling stray strands of hair from where they’re stuck to your forehead and pushing them behind your ear. 

“We’re home,” he drawls. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” 

You nod groggily, still letting your eyes adjust to the daylight. You take in your surroundings: you’re parked in his driveway, his house right in front of you. Somehow, it’s just as you’d imagined it to be — big, sprawling porch at the front, meticulously kempt yard ornamented with a beautiful red oak tree. It’s so Texan, you think, so Joel.

He grabs your luggage from the truck. Then he helps you out, walks you with a large hand wrapped around your middle to the front door and into the house. Once inside, he sets your suitcase down. 

And then he hugs you again, like he’s afraid to let you out of his embrace, lest you vaporize into thin air.

“Still tired? Wanna take a nap?,” he asks.

You yawn, right in his ear. He laughs; that’s enough of an answer. 

“Alright,” he says. You follow him to his bedroom, too sleepy to argue. You pass through the kitchen and living room on the way. Through drooping eyes, you notice scattered pieces of Joel — the guitar leaning against its stand next to the couch, the pictures of him and Sarah lining the staircase. It makes your chest tighten, being here in his house, seeing the parts of him that he can’t bring with him when he visits you.

His room is the most him though — masculine and minimalist. A canvas with a ram painted on it hangs above his bed — a gift from someone, you assume. You can’t exactly imagine Joel strolling the aisles of Target, picking out artwork to hang in his house. There’s another photo of him and Sarah on his bedside table that must’ve been taken at her highschool graduation, cap adorning her head full of curls. 

It makes you smile — all of it. 

You lope over to the bed, climbing in when Joel pulls back the covers for you. He tucks you in with a kiss to your forehead. His duvet wafts his scent, when you pull it up to your face. You inhale it deeply. Commit it to memory.

“Wait,” you say as he turns to leave the room. “Aren’t you going to stay with me?” 

He leans against the doorframe, wood creaking under his weight. “Well I don’t really nap, darlin’,” he admits. “You get some rest, I’ll just be doin’ some stuff around the house.” 

“Please,” you say, sticking out your bottom lip at him. You watch as he thinks on it for a minute, then sighs in defeat. 

“Okay, I’ll nap with you baby.” 

He climbs in next to you. “Only for a little bit, though,” he mumbles, like he’s trying to convince himself.

His broad chest presses into your back. He drapes an arm over your side as you nuzzle into his embrace, so warm, so safe. He noses at your neck, leaving gentle kisses along your exposed shoulder. This, you think, is what heaven must feel like. 

The sound of Joel’s breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up, the room is cast in shadows. It’s dusk, you realize, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You roll over. Find that Joel is no longer next to you.

His side of the bed is still warm, you notice, so he must not have gotten up too long ago.

You clamber to your feet, ignoring the blood rushing to your head as you stumble out of his room. You make your way down the stairs, hand braced against the wall as you descend. The lights are on in the living room — a sign of life. But Joel isn’t there. 

You wander into the kitchen. He’s not here either.  Did he leave the house? You look around for a note, fish your phone out of your pocket to see if he texted you. But you have zero notifications and the dining table is empty, apart from a pair of salt & pepper shakers and a napkin holder. 

You call out for him, to no avail. Stumped, you make your way to the door that leads to the garage, the only room you haven’t checked yet, and wedge it open. 

To your surprise, you find Joel standing at the back of his truck, loading something into the bed. Upon further inspection, you see that it’s blankets.

Huh?

“Hey,” you announce, making your way down the small set of stairs. He whips around at the sound of your voice. The color in his face drains, like he’s just been caught in the act of something.

“Darlin’,” he says, eyes wide. “You’re up.”

You join him by the truck. Let him rest a heavy arm on your shoulder. You peer up at him with a quirked brow. “What are you doing out here?”

“Well, I uh, I had planned somethin’ for you. Not sure if you’re up for it?”

You look back at the blankets in the truck bed. It’s not just blankets, you discover. There are pillows too, big ones, like the kinds you put on patio furniture, plus a small radio situated in the corner. And there’s a bag of chips leaned up against one of the pillows, next to a box of your favorite candy.

“A picnic… in your truck?”

He laughs. “Not quite. There’s a drive-in movie theater down the road. Thought we could go.”

Those butterflies from this morning suddenly return, swarming your insides at the realization — Joel planned a date for you.

It’s not that he isn’t normally romantic, because he is. 

You recall one particular weekend he’d visited — he’d insisted on cooking dinner for you at your apartment, determined to make it perfect for you. He’d ended up burning the chicken and oversalting his sauce, but you hadn’t cared one bit — not when he’d gazed at you so adoringly across the candlelit table, one of your hands in his as he’d peppered each of your knuckles with kisses.

On another visit, he’d scouted one of the only nearby mountains you hadn’t hiked yet and climbed to the top with you — because the internet said this was the best spot to catch the sunset. You’d stood at the lookout, hand in hand, and shared your greatest dreams — yours to have your research published in a major publication, his to leave contracting behind and buy a sheep ranch. And when the sun had dipped behind the horizon, the sky bleeding vibrant pinks and oranges, he’d just looked at you.

So you know he’s romantic. Still though, you’re practically swooning at the scene in front of you.

“So, you wanna go?,” he asks. He scuffs his boot along the concrete floor, awkwardly. “It’s okay if you d-“

“Joel,” you say. “I wanna go.”

He smiles. Rolls the cover over the truck bed. Presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The sky is dark by the time you get to the drive-in. There are already quite a few cars in the dirt lot, parked in neat rows facing the giant movie screen that sits at the edge of a treeline. There’s a person directing traffic, a teenage boy, you guess, based on his stature, and he twirls his light-up batons in the rearview as Joel rounds the corner to the back row.

He backs into a spot at the far-left, car to your right parked a good ten feet away. And then he cuts the ignition with a quiet grunt, steps out, and makes his way over to your door to open it for you and help you down.

The pillows in the truck bed had jostled around a bit on the drive over, Joel finds when he unfurls the cover. So he adjusts them, making sure everything is just right. Then he unlatches the tailgate and helps you hoist yourself up, following closely behind you as you crawl toward the back. 

Once he’s set the radio to the right channel, Joel sits with his back flush to the truck cab and spreads his legs, patting one of his thighs in invitation. He doesn’t need to ask twice — you immediately crawl between them, letting your head fall back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in him. 

A satisfied hum escapes your lips. The realization hits you then that you hadn’t even asked what movie you were seeing. Not that you care much — it could be a documentary about grass, and you’d still have a good time, thanks to the company. 

It’s some dystopian sci-fi thriller, you find, as the opening credits begin to roll, with a title you vaguely remember hearing in passing at some point. 

And it’s good. You’re invested in the story by the end of the first act, curious to find out how the main character is going to save her love interest. 

But then you lose interest, quickly, when you feel the white-hot touch of Joel’s fingers against your skin as he slips them under your shirt, inching down your stomach.

He halts when he gets to the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitches, lodged somewhere in your throat when he dips one finger under the denim. Your hips lift reflexively and he laughs lowly in your ear, prompting a shaky exhale to sputter out of you.

“Stay still, darlin,” he whispers, slipping another finger into your pants.

You try, you really try not to move, but he’s teasing you, his fingers moving the pace of molasses toward your core, where he hasn’t touched you in months. You feel like your entire body is going to combust if he doesn’t make contact with your clit in the next five seconds. 

You whine, quiet enough that it’s muffled by the sounds of the movie echoing from the radio, but still too loud for Joel, apparently. He reaches his free hand out to turn the volume up, pushing the nob a few decibels higher. 

He returns his attention to you. “You want this, babygirl?,” he asks, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. 

“Yes,” you whisper pleadingly. “Please touch me, Joel.” You feel his cock stiffen behind you, prodding your back. 

“Okay,” he says. He pulls his hand out completely to unbutton your pants and unzip them halfway. Then he’s cupping your sex through your panties, letting his fingers brush over the wet spot that has already formed. 

“Gotta be quiet then,” he purrs. “Can ya do that for me?”

You’re not sure you can, to be honest. He’s barely touching you and you already feel like you’ve lost all control over your body. Whatever it does, however you react — you have no say in the matter. Still, you’re not about to tell him that, risk him stopping, so you nod, furiously, your desperate face illuminated by the flashing light of an action sequence playing out on screen. 

He dips two fingers into your underwear, immediately pressing them to your seam. He curses under his breath behind you, clearly pleased with how wet you are for him, with how easily he breaks you down. He brings them up to your clit, then, swiping back and forth, back and forth, his calloused touch forcing you to suppress a yelp. His fingers feel so rough compared to yours, so good. Breaths are pouring out of you in quick succession, your chest heaving with pleasure. 

You’re briefly paranoid as Joel continues his ministrations that someone might see — but as you glance around the parking lot, you realize that you can’t see anyone else, just shadows in cars and on folding chairs, all focused on the movie in front of them. Slouched within the walls of Joel’s truck bed, it’s impossible for anyone to clock what’s happening.

So you let your body relax, melting into Joel behind you, your hands clinging onto his thighs to hold yourself steady. “‘ts it baby,” he says, your pliancy encouraging him to press his fingers down harder. “Always so good for me, huh?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, your voice still hushed. 

“Yeah, you are” he agrees, rubbing your clit faster, more deliberately. He knows by now just how to touch you — exactly how to bring you straight to the edge and send you toppling over. And it’s clear that time apart hasn’t affected this in the slightest, your abdomen already tensing, familiar coil tightening threateningly in your core.

You warn Joel with a squeal. His free hand flies up to your face, covering your mouth in an instant. Your eyes roll back instinctively at the lewdness of it, of him muffling you with his palm. You moan freely against it, teeth scraping the skin there as your orgasm grows nearer and nearer and nearer.

It hits you hard. You have to bite down on Joel’s hand to keep from screaming out as it scorches through you, heating every inch of your skin as it does. Your fingernails are digging into Joel’s legs so hard you think you may be drawing blood even through thick denim. He talks you through it, quietly, his utters of atta girl, look at you, ya cum so pretty for me baby keeping you tethered to reality.

When your breathing begins to even and the trembling in your thighs subsides, he removes his hand from your mouth and the other from your pants. 

You gaze up at him through bleary eyes just as he brings the fingers that were pressed against your pussy straight to his mouth, sucking on them through a satisfied hum. He pulls them out slowly, and your body nearly buckles at the sight.

“Taste so sweet,” he whispers in your ear. “Always taste so goddamn sweet.”

Your head swims. 

“Joel,” you say, pointedly. 

“Yeah, darlin’?” 

“We need to leave. Right now.”

He cocks his head at you, confused. “Are you alr-”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off. “But I need you to fuck me right now, and I don’t think we can do that here.” 

You see his eyes darken, his jaw twitch. 

“Yeah,” he says after a few seconds. “Let’s get out of here.”

Joel speeds the entire way home.

The hand he doesn’t have on the wheel grips your thigh, making you dizzy with desire by the time he pulls into the driveway. He lodges the passenger side door open so hard you’d think there was an emergency (maybe needing to fuck your significant other after months of not seeing them in person does constitute as an emergency, though — who’s to say?).

He unbuckles your seatbelt for you, barely letting your feet hit the pavement before his lips are on you and he’s slamming the truck door shut, caging you against it. It feels like he’s everywhere all at once, his tongue sliding along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You’re panting by the time he pulls back, begging him in not so many words to bring you inside and pound you into the mattress.

It must take you five whole minutes to get from the front door to his room. Joel’s hand is splayed across the globe of your ass as you walk. He stops you every ten feet to spin your around and kiss you again, sucking on your tongue, needy moans slipping from his parted lips. His shirt has been discarded by the time you get to the stairs, and your hands greedily take in every inch of skin they can reach as you make your way up step by agonizing step. 

When you finally make it upstairs, he backs you through the threshold, straight to his bed. You tumble down onto the mattress in a heap, mouths melding together in desperation as he reaches a hand behind you, under your shirt, and unclasps your bra. You help him out, reaching up your sleeve to tug down one strap, then shifting your weight to pull down the other. When you move, he follows you, not letting his mouth part from yours a second sooner than it needs to. 

He tugs the bra the rest of the way off your body and pulls your shirt up over your chest, revealing your bare breasts. Only then does he unlatch his lips from yours so that he can admire you.

“More gorgeous every time I see you,” he mutters, rolling one of your nipples between two fingers until it hardens under his touch. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. He leans down, lathing his flat tongue over the sensitive peak, eliciting a heady moan from you. 

“Joel,” you cry beneath him, a hand coming up to his shoulder. You push against him lightly. 

And he gets it — as much as he loves teasing, now is not the time. You’ve been teased enough by the miles between you and him. So he pulls back. Lets you roll him over. You straddle him, bracing your hands on his chest and experimentally roll your hips. You immediately feel his hard cock straining against his jeans underneath you. 

You reach between your bodies then, prying open his button and yanking the zipper down. Then your hand is in his pants, tracing the outline of his heavy cock where it bulges under cotton.

You lean down and press a kiss to his clothed length. He hisses through his teeth. 

“Baby,” he groans, hand coming down to tilt your chin up towards his face. “Another time. I need to be inside you. Right now.”

You don’t argue. He sits up. Shuffles back to the headboard, bringing you with him. He pulls your shirt the rest of the way off, over your head. And then he’s helping you slip out of your jeans and panties so that you’re completely naked atop him. 

He pulls you in for another bruising kiss as he tugs his pants and boxers down, just enough to free his leaking cock. He strokes it languidly, smearing pre-cum from the tip down his length. You’re already impatient by the time he’s lining himself up with your entrance, so much so that you have to refrain from taking him all the way down in one go. You use your better judgment, sinking onto him slowly, until you’re flush with his pelvis, the hair at his base tickling your inner thighs. 

His eyes are squeezed shut, his breathing labored as you adjust to the size of him. You’ve missed the sweet, burning stretch of him, the fullness you feel when he’s inside you, like you’re complete, whole. You’re pretty sure you could stay like this forever, make a home here on his throbbing cock. 

When the sting dissipates, you begin to move, rocking on top of him. He grabs onto your hips, steadying you, his eyes blinking half-open to take you in.

“Fuck,” he rasps as you set a steady pace, his cock disappearing from you, then filling you to the brim again and again. “‘ts it baby, take my fuckin’ cock; ridin’ it so good.”

His hips snap up, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. You wrap your hands around his neck reflexively, digging your nails into his shoulders, indenting crescent moons in the muscle there as he ruts against your g-spot. Your face falls against his chest, your muffled pleas for Joel to fuck you harder, harder, right there barely coherent.

He gets the message regardless.

He pulls you down onto his cock, essentially spearing you on it. You think he must be bruising your cervix, the way his thick head is repeatedly bumping it, but you don’t care. You need every inch of him, need to take everything he has to give you; it feels as essential as the air being punched out of your chest right now. 

He’s fucking up into you so brutally that you find yourself delirious, eyes rolling back in your head for the second time tonight. You can’t even find the strength to warn him of your rapidly approaching orgasm, your body going limp in his grasp. He doesn’t need you to, though — he can tell just by the way you squeeze him that you’re close. 

“Gonna cum for me, baby?,” he growls, hitting that spongy spot over and over and over. 

“Uh — ahhh — uh-huh,” you moan weakly into his skin. Your fingers loosen at his neck, too weak to hold onto him any longer.

Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head off of his chest and holding it up so that you’re looking him in the eye. 

His gaze is lascivious, almost carnal, like going without you for so long has him ready to swallow you whole.

“Look at me,” he spits, “look at me when you cum.”

You nod wearily. You want to give him that, want to give him anything he asks of you. But you’re not sure if you can, not when your eyelids feel like boulders on your face. 

“C-can’t Joel,” you manage through moans as they fall shut again. 

“Nuh-uh,” he snaps, yanking at your roots. Your eyes fly open at the intrusion. 

“You can do it baby, c’mon. Missed these pretty eyes so much — wanna see ‘em.”

You can only imagine how absolutely fucked-out you must look, using every last ounce of energy in your body to keep from slipping again. Your eyes glaze over slightly as he gives a particularly rough thrust, and you feel yourself skyrocket to the edge.

You feel like putty in his hands — and maybe you are. You’d let him mold you to whatever shape he pleased right about now, when he’s making you feel this good.

“There ya go,” Joel coos, bringing his thumb to your clit. He lazily swipes it once — twice — and you begin to fall apart in his arms.

It’s almost violent, your second orgasm of the night. It rips through you, your body thrashing on top of Joel’s, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he continues pounding into you. It feels different too, something more intense lingering, the threat of it just behind your walls. 

And then he hits that spot again, the one that makes you see stars, and you’re gushing around him. Your release splatters out onto the duvet below you, soaking it. If Joel notices, he doesn’t care.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groans.

Your eyes adjust as you come to. You take in Joel’s, charcoal black and blown-out with lust. You feel shy, almost, which you know is ridiculous given he’s still inside you. But even so, the way he looks at you, like you’re the most desirable thing he’s ever seen — it makes your cheeks heat.

He flips you over onto your back in one swift movement, slipping from you momentarily as he helps you to wrap your shaky legs around him. Presses a gentle kiss to your trembling ankle as he does. And then he’s burying himself in you again, right to the hilt, his pace slowing as he nears the edge. 

“Please baby,” you cry. “Please cum inside. Need to feel you.”

Your body feels boneless under Joel’s weight, like he’s fucked near everything out of you. And now you need him to feel good, to take whatever he needs from you, whatever you have left to give. 

“Fuck,” he grunts. His hips stall abruptly. He spills into you, deep moans pulling from the back of his throat. You dig your heels into the meat of his ass, dragging him closer, forcing him so deep he paints your cervix.

He pulls out with a hiss, his length softening against your mound as he lifts himself up on his elbows to kiss you. It’s a meager kiss, both of you still too out of breath to deepen it, but it soothes you, along with the soft graze of his thumb over your ribs.

You hold each other for a while, in no rush to move from this moment. You’re pretty sure you drift off more than once, awoken each time by the vibration of his gentle hums against your neck. When you finally do move, it’s not far, just up the bed and under the covers. And then his arms are right back where they were, around you, pulling you tightly to him.

He falls asleep before you, snoring quietly at the crown of your head. You try to wiggle from his grasp, move to the other side of the bed, but even in his sleep, he’s acutely aware of your presence. He just grips you harder, nuzzles his head deeper into your hair. You’ve never felt more content being stuck somewhere.

You slip under again eventually. You’re pretty sure you dream of nothing — no need for your brain to conjure up anything more than what you already have. 

The following morning, you wake up with Joel’s tongue between your legs. He nibbles at your inner thigh, waiting for you to give him the go ahead to continue. And then he makes you cum twice on his mouth before you even eat breakfast. 

He doesn’t let you get up for that, either. He brings you hot coffee in a Texas Longhorns mug and a plate of toast, slathered with butter and grape jelly, and doesn’t complain when you get crumbs on the sheets. 

You’re satiated and caffeinated before you even start your day — which Joel has planned out to a t. 

He brings you to his favorite spot for lunch, a BBQ place by the river, and acts smug when you tell him these are the best ribs I’ve ever had in my life. Then you go home, take a shower — together, of course — and you rinse shampoo out of your hair with his cock nestled comfortably inside you.

He fucks you with your hands braced against the shower wall until you’re screaming, the echoes bouncing off of tile, and then you get back in bed, laze around in your towels until dinnertime. 

Joel orders takeout — sushi for you, lo mein and teriyaki beef for him. You sprawl out on the couch as you eat, your feet in his lap and the calming buzz of the tv on in the background.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a long time.

You easily fall into a routine over the course of the week: wake up, fuck, eat breakfast in bed, fuck, get up around noon, shower, eat lunch, grade papers while Joel cleans up or does yardwork, eat dinner, fuck, go to sleep. 

You almost forget that this isn’t permanent, that you’re going to have to get on a plane and go home soon, that this isn’t your home, here with Joel. That is, until Friday night, over dinner — when Joel abruptly pulls you back down to earth. 

You’re finishing your pasta, spooning the last remnants of sauce into your mouth. Some western flashes across the tv — Joel’s choice, and as you put your bowl down on the coffee table and snuggle up to him, he sighs. 

“This has gotta be the best vacation of my life — or, staycation, I guess.” He says it innocently enough. Still, you feel jolted. Vacation, you repeat in your head until your brain catches up with reality. You feel smothered, suddenly, warm, like your whole body is an ore about to be smelted. You extricate yourself from Joel’s arms and settle on the other side of the couch. 

“Just hot,” you lie. “Sorry.” 

“‘ts alright,” he murmurs, unphased, eyes glued to the tv. 

He doesn’t notice the way you tense, the way your breathing picks up when you excuse yourself to the bathroom. But why should he? There’s no reason for you to be freaking out. 

Except there is.

Because the thought of leaving in a couple days, leaving behind Joel and this routine, not seeing him again for several more months, and even then, only having a weekend, or if you’re lucky, a week with him – it’s making you spiral.

You lock yourself in the bathroom. Close the lid to the toilet. When you sit down, your head falls into your hands, heaving breaths warming the skin of your palms uncomfortably. I can’t do this, you think. I can’t keep doing this.

You love Joel — you do, more than anything. And you can’t begin to imagine living without him. But you also can’t help but wonder, elbows digging into your knees, how this has become your life — all the leaving. 

Something heavy settles in the pit of your stomach. You feel nauseous.

You get up. Splash cold water on your face. Curse your reflection, all sunken eyes and tear-stained cheeks. So stupid. This is why you didn’t want to get into another relationship. The pain, the pain, the unbearable pain.

Why did you have to fall in love with him?

There’s a clanging on the other side of the door — Joel clearing your dishes from dinner — an act of domesticity that plunges the dagger deeper into your bleeding heart.

You wipe your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. Huff at how pathetic you feel.

It’s so stupid, so silly, crying in Joel’s bathroom when he’s right outside, right there waiting for you. Even still, you can’t seem to shake the dread that hangs over you like a storm cloud when you make your way back into the living room with dried eyes, back into his arms.

You hope, silently, that it’ll go away with a good night’s sleep. That this is just a minor breakdown, a hormonal thing, maybe, and you’ll feel better in the morning.

It doesn’t, it’s not — and you don’t.

Joel can tell something is wrong the moment he hands you your morning coffee. You’d slept in today, legs tangled under the sheets, trepidation still clawing its way up your throat. You’d been quiet, had only hummed in response when he’d told you good morning. 

That, he hadn’t noticed. But when he passes you the mug, steam billowing from the mouth, he detects the way you won’t look at him, your mumbled thank you. 

You catch the way he steps back with a dejected hmph, and rounds the bed to climb in next to you.

You feel awful.

The mattress springs creak as he settles, balancing his full mug in one hand, laying the other over yours where it sits on top of the duvet, resting on your covered leg. 

“Y’alright?,” he asks, even though you know he knows the answer. It’s why you don’t lie, shake your head. Your eyes flick up to his as a frown sets under his nose. 

You downplay it. “I’m fine, really. It’s just — I — I’m sad that today’s our last full day. I don’t wanna go home yet.” 

“Don’t have to go,” he drawls, drawing light circles over your skin with his index finger. 

And you know he means it — know he’d let you move in with him in a heartbeat. But you also know you can’t. Can’t leave behind the life you worked so hard to make in Vermont. 

“I wish,” you sigh, taking a cautious sip of your coffee. 

“Well…d’you wanna do somethin’ today? Go into the city? I know we haven’t done much’a anything this week.” He smirks. And just for a moment, the look on his face — that dopey smile and those sweet cinnamon eyes — makes you forget about the darkness fogging your mind. 

“We can do touristy stuff,” he continues. “Do anythin’ you want. To take your mind off things. Make the most of the day, ya know?”

His brows are raised as he anticipates your response. He’s so eager to do whatever it takes for you to be happy, and that makes your chest clench. More than you want to protect your own heart, you want to appease him. He deserves that, at the very least.

So you say yes, let’s do it; show me around Austin.

The cracks in your heart deepen when he nearly jumps out of bed in excitement. 

Joel is a great tour guide, for what it’s worth.

He brings you to his favorite hiking trail in the city. It runs along a lake, the water busy with kayakers and paddle boarders. 

The sky above is overcast. A sliver of sun cuts through the clouds, casting your forehead in a light sheen of sweat as you walk.

Every single passerby waves at you or says hello, all in the same singsong twang. Joel waves back, grunts a greeting. It throws you off, how nice everyone is here. You’ve grown used to New England, with its temperamental weather and even more temperamental people.

“Busy,” you note when another group passes you. 

“Mhm,” Joel hums. Wraps a sweaty arm around you, pulling you into his side. It’s awkward to walk like this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Sarah used to love this place. We’d come all the time when she was little.”

You lean into his embrace. Nuzzle your face into the fabric of his T-shirt.

“I know you must’ve missed her this week. Is this the first spring break she hasn’t been home?”

“Yeah,” Joel’s other hand rests at the back of his neck, fingers absently working at a knot in the muscle there. “Gotta get used to it though, I guess, with her stayin’ north after school is over and all.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” you admit. “When did she decide?”

He sighs so deep you can almost feel it in your own chest. 

“Couple weeks ago,” he says. “Guess she got some unofficial job offer for after she graduates, from this research institute in Boston. She’s all excited about it.”

You know Joel is proud. He’s always proud of Sarah. How could he not be? But you also know his heart is breaking right now, the long-established plans for Sarah to come home to Texas, to come home to him after finishing undergrad, suddenly squashed. 

And then there’s you — leaving too — again.

The thought of hurting Joel is overbearing, more so than the thought of hurting yourself. He doesn’t deserve to be so far away from the woman he’s in a relationship with when his own daughter is already out of reach.

You feel selfish, suddenly. 

It plagues your mind for the rest of the day — when you go to a diner after the hike and split a strawberry milkshake the size of your head with Joel — and still, later, when you wander hand-in-hand into a tacky gift shop. 

You try your best to ignore the ache in your chest as you scan the store.

The back wall is stacked top to bottom with cowboy boots of varying colors and styles. There are cowboy hats too, displayed on a long table.

Joel picks up an oversized straw hat, resting it on the top of his head with a laugh. “Looks ridiculous, right?” 

“Somehow, no,” you say. And it’s the truth. You think he’s the only person who could put that thing on and look hot in it. 

He grabs another hat off of the table, a more traditional one — brown leather with a braided band wrapped around the base of the crown. You let him affix it on your head. He steps back to get a good look at you and nods. 

“Looks good. Looks sexy,” he amends. 

“Yeah?” You dip your head in faux greeting, fingers pressed into the front corner of the brim.

He scans over you then, his eyes darkening. It looks like he’s pondering something, the corner of his mouth curving. 

“What?”

He steps closer. Leans down to whisper in your ear. “Think we should get ‘em. Wear ‘em later.”

Your breath pulls. The thought of Joel wearing that and nothing but that underneath you is enough to make you forget your quandaries, temporarily.

“Yeah,” you respond way too quickly. “Let’s get them, Cowboy.”

You watch his entire body tense at the nickname. And then he’s yanking the hat off of you, bringing both to the register in a hurry. 

The house is dark when you get home, bag of Greek takeout in hand.

Joel flicks a light on in the entrance. You squint reflexively, your eyes adjusting as you set the food down on the coffee table in the living room. Joel brings your new hats upstairs, then joins you on the couch. You pull out two styrofoam containers, passing the one with Joel’s name scribbled on it to him and leaning back with yours in your lap. 

“‘m starvin,” he mumbles as he cracks his open, squeezes a wedge of lemon over his rice. 

You eat quickly, something else clearly on both of your minds as you shovel falafel into your mouths. You even forget to turn the tv on. 

When you’re done, you insist you’ll clean up, bringing the trash into the kitchen as Joel disappears upstairs. Once everything is tidied, you re-situate yourself on the couch.

He returns a few minutes later — shirtless, that ridiculous cowboy hat fastened on his head, dark jeans sitting low on his hips. He’s holding your hat in his left hand.

There’s a dull throbbing between your legs. He starts across the room, toward you.

“Joel-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, bracketing you against the cushions, his hat bumping into your head. He pulls it off immediately, like if it’s going to interfere in any way, it’s not worth it. It falls onto the floor somewhere behind him.

Joel pulls at the fabric of your shirt. Your back arches, allowing him to pull it up and off before tossing it aside. His mouth moves from yours, trailing lower, lower, and settling at the column of your throat. He sucks a bruise there, the contact sending your hips bucking off the couch, the need for him to touch you already borderline painful.

And then that voice returns, the one that’s been screaming in your head since last night.

This’ll be the last time for a while. Maybe forever. Last time he touches you like this, kisses you like this. Don’t think about it — don’t. Just enjoy it. Just-

“Joel,” you pant. He stops immediately. Pulls back. 

“What? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Tears well in your eyes, blur your vision. You can barely make out the look of concern plastered across Joel’s face as he kneels down in front of you and grips both of your shoulders. 

When you speak, your voice comes out shaky. “No, it’s not — I just.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“What? What is it darlin’?,” he tries, massaging tense muscle under his palms. 

You hadn’t wanted him to see you like this. You feel embarrassed that he has to comfort you like you’re a child who’s just had a nightmare, and not a grown woman with a PhD. You groan. Catch your breath. 

“Fuck. I’m fine,” you try. Joel clearly isn’t buying it. He quirks a brow at you. 

“C’mon baby, talk to me. I wanna help, whatever it is. Let me in — please” 

And you want to, you do, it’s just — you don’t know how to even explain how you’re feeling. 

“This is all so hard,” you start. Joel nods. He wants you to continue. “This whole — situation,” you try. “Being long-distance. It’s just — being here for a whole week and waking up together every morning, having coffee, watching tv at night, like a — fuck — like a real couple — and now I have to go back to normal?”

His face falls.

“Real couple? Is this not real to you?” 

“It is real,” you sob. “It’s too real. That’s why it hurts so fucking much. I just, I can’t —”

“Can’t what?” His voice is quiet. Low.

“Can’t do this. Can’t handle the pain. And it must be hurting you too, Joel. Between me and Sarah—”

“I’m fine,” he barks, suddenly jumping to his feet. He takes a deep breath. “This isn’t about Sarah. This is about us. Do you not want this? Me?” 

Your hands tremble in your lap. “Of course I want you, Joel,” you sniff. “I want you more than anything. But-”

“But not like this. This is too hard.”

You nod weakly. 

He sighs.

“You know you can move here — stay with me.”

You do know. He’s said it so many times before. But you’ve worked way too hard to pack up and start over, to give up your professorship after only three years with the blind hope that you’ll land a new position in Austin. And now you’re mad — infuriated, almost, that he keeps suggesting it.

You scoff. “You know I can’t just give up my life, Joel.” 

“So what, you’re just gonna give up on us, instead?” His voice is strained. 

“I’m not giving up,” you clip, defensively.

“Certainly doesn’t sound like you’re tryin’.”

He stares at the ceiling. You watch as his eyes mist, his concentration palpable as he wills the tears not to fall. Your anger dissipates into guilt. 

This is exactly what you’d feared — breaking his heart. It’s like you can see it fracturing, chipping at the edges. 

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “I don’t — I don’t know. I just can’t.”

His face contorts. A single tear slips down his cheek, which he wipes away quickly with the back of his hand. “Fuck,” he curses.

You stand from the couch, begin to move cautiously toward him. “Joel, I-”

“Don’t,” he snaps. Throws his hands up defensively. And then he’s turning, heading up the stairs, leaving you standing there in the middle of the living room with a ringing in your ears.

When you climb into bed twenty minutes later, he doesn’t acknowledge you.

You fly home the next day. Joel doesn’t say anything on the drive to the airport. 

Once there, he pulls over to the curb at the drop-off and puts the car in park. You’re not sure what to do — should you kiss him? Tell him you love him? Because you do, so fucking much. You’re just — not sure if he wants to hear that right now. 

He makes the decision for you, cradling your face as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. He lets his forehead fall to yours with a sigh, and then he pulls back. 

He doesn’t open your door for you, though. Doesn’t grab your bags from the back when you clamber down from the passenger seat. 

It’s as if he’s saying: I love you, but I’m going to give you space.

You pry open the back door. Pull out your suitcase and rest your new cowboy hat over the handle. You almost wish now that he hadn’t gotten it for you. It’ll just serve as another reminder of everything you’ve left behind once your home. 

“Text me,” he offers once your things are all gathered on the curb. “Let me know when you board, when you’re home safe.”

“Yeah,” you nod. Search his eyes for something. Some indicator that he’s okay. But he’s stoic, his lips set in a straight line. “I will. Promise.”

His mouth opens, like he wants to add something else. But whatever he’s thinking, he decides against saying out loud. Instead he just tells you safe travels, and then he’s pulling the passenger side door closed from the inside.

You stand unmoving. As his truck disappears down the roadway and out of view, a list of all the things you should’ve said rolls through your brain like the end credits of a film.

You send Joel a message when you get home. Let him know you got in safe. You don’t call, like you normally would, because that’s not what he’d asked of you.

Then you climb straight into bed, still in your clothes, and let the tears consume you. You wallow in them for what feels like hours, the natural light in your bedroom gradually sinking into the floorboards. You welcome the nightfall, the way the darkness soothes the pounding in your head, the way it feels like nothing. 

Morning comes before Joel responds. You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, the time on your phone reading 11:09, and the notification from him just below it nearly jolts you: 

Okay. Thanks. 

No love you, no miss you. 

You curse under your breath. 

Why did you have to say anything? Why did you have to ruin this?

The pain of possibly losing Joel for good makes the pain of long distance feel like a papercut. All you want is to go back in time, take back everything you said, tell Joel you love him a million-and-one times. Anything to undo this.

You fleetingly consider quitting your job, handing in your resignation letter the second you get to campus tomorrow. You’ll take your unpacked suitcase and head right back to the airport.

You don’t let the temptation win. But it lingers, sits at the top of your chest like a threat. Like if he asks one more time — you’ll do it.

He doesn’t, though. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything — which you should’ve expected — but it still stings. You hadn’t broken up, not technically, so you’re stuck in this weird limbo, one in which neither of you wants to talk about what happened in Austin.

Instead, you text each other once a day or so — weird, surface-level messages, ones you’d send to an acquaintance, not someone who literally knows you inside and out.

Finally above 60°, you say, on Monday morning, attached to a screenshot of your weather app. 

Your walk to campus must’ve been nice today, he replies.

And the next day:

Guy at the job site today was talking about that show you like. 

Parks & Rec?!

Yeah, that one.

It’s barely enough to keep you going, to keep you sane. You feel pitiful, looking forward to Joel’s text-of-the-day like it’s a re-up of your drug of choice. Better than heroin, you tell yourself.

Two weeks pass with no phone calls and minimal messages. It’s 5:45 pm on a rainy Tuesday when you sit at your dining room table with a pile of papers to grade in front of you, some low-fi playlist on in the background, unable to focus.

Because Joel hasn’t texted you all day.

Usually he’d send something by now. And it’s not like you hadn’t texted him — in fact, you’d double-texted, one message sent this morning about how you burned your tongue on your coffee, and another after your final class of the day when you’d seen he still hadn’t responded:

Busy day? 

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, the gears in your mind whirring as you debate whether or not to send the words punctuated by a flickering cursor on your screen:

Can I call you later?

He’ll probably say no. Or worse, continue to ignore you. Maybe this is it — maybe weeks of dancing around residual tension have driven him to call it quits. He’ll block you, and then you’ll never hear from him again. 

The thought has bile rising up your throat.

You close out of the app and put your phone down before stalking over to the living room, letting yourself fall stomach-first onto the couch. You stuff your face into a throw pillow and scream.

You almost don’t hear it over your muffled yells — the rapping at your front door. 

You still, lifting your head from the pillow. Listening intently. It comes again — rapraprap.

Ugh, you groan, lifting yourself onto your elbows, then your feet. You pull your cardigan tighter over your front. Drag your feet across the hardwood to the entranceway, wondering who the fuck could be at your door on a Tuesday evening, unannounced. 

Is it the property manager?, you speculate as you reach the door. Was there an issue with my rent?

Your fingers wind around the handle apprehensively. You peer through the peephole and your heart plummets into your stomach.

Because Joel is standing right outside your apartment.

You wonder if you’re seeing things. If you’ve gone full-on hysterical. But it’s him, it’s unmistakably him — in his favorite flannel and his workwear jacket, which is smattered in rain spots. His gaze is trained on the floor by his feet and his hands are fidgeting at his sides — just like the first time you met him.

You throw the door open. Joel’s eyes shoot up. For a long moment, you just stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something — do something. 

When your breath pulls, he rushes forward and crashes his lips into yours. He backs you into your apartment, letting the door slam shut behind you. 

You barely hear it, still registering that Joel is here, he’s here and he’s kissing the hell out of you. And just minutes ago, you’d been sulking on your couch, convinced it was over between you two. 

You feel dizzy. You pull back, only because you fear if you don’t, you’ll literally topple over. Joel’s breathing is heavy — it matches yours.

“What are you — fuck — what are you doing here, Joel?”

“I need to talk to you,” he pants. 

“Could’ve called,” you say, as if there’s any universe in which you’d prefer that. 

You lead him to the living room. Fall back onto the couch. He sits down next to you, taking both of your hands in his. You get a good look at him for the first time since he’d barreled into your apartment, and he looks wrecked.

“Are you okay?,” you ask. 

His response isn’t much of an answer. “’m selling my house.”

Your head spins. “You — what?” 

“Listed it last week,” he says. “Already got a couple offers.” 

“Oh,” you blink. “Okay.”

“‘m gonna move up here.”

Oh. 

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of your chest. You’re — speechless.

“I put an offer on a place,” he continues. “‘ts a ranch with some land. Room for sheep. I’m sellin’ my half of the business to Tommy. Leavin’ Texas.”

He exhales. His eyes search yours with tangible desperation. “Say somethin’.”

“I — fuck, Joel,” you breathe. “You’re — when? How?”

“Found the place a couple days ago. ‘ts about thirty minutes Southeast of here. Just went and saw it in person. Sent my offer letter before I came here.”

“Right,” you nod. “But Joel, you can’t just leave-”

“Sure I can,” he interrupts. “Nothin’ there for me anymore. Not Sarah, not you.”

A beat passes. And then he adds:

“I can’t lose you.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you imagine Joel this past week, making all of these plans to rectify the distance between you, to be sure he doesn’t lose you. And still — you’re not sure if you deserve it after the way you hurt him.

“You — you still want me, even after what I said?” 

“Darlin’,” he says, in that honey-sweet drawl. “I love you. There’s nothin’ you could do to make me not want you. You were right. This isn’t feasible. We can’t do this forever.”

“Joel,” you sigh, “I just — you’re sure you want this?”

“I want you,” he says plainly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world — like nothing else matters. “And you need to be here. So it’s a no-brainer”

The rain picks up outside. It patters against the windows.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he says. “I’ll retract my offer. Go back to Texas.”

“I do Joel — want you here more than anything, love you more than anything. But-”

“Good.” He cups your face in his hands. You stare into his eyes, your future.

“It’s settled, then,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt. “I’m movin’ to Vermont.”

“This is crazy,” you laugh. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you more,” he beams. “No gettin’ rid of me now.”

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Cowboy.” 

end notes: ty again for reading! pls consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you liked it <3

tagging everyone who expressed interest in reading a part 2 (lmk if you don't want to be included going forward): @anoverwhelmingdin, @joelalorian, @lol-im-done, @bensonispunk, @sereindreams, @survivingandenduring, @stevie75, @vee-bees-blog, @brittmb115, @casssiopeia, @bbyanarchist, @janaispunk, @barbellpedro

[erenjaegerwifee]

Moonlight Heights

Survive the night: Day 3

Paring: Jake x Human!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+ NSFW, Taking drugs, drinking alcohol, rough sex, explicit language, female receiving orals, infidelity, size kink, slight breeding kink, Jake being a big heavy, sexy dilf☺️

Word Count: 3.7K

Disclaimer: if you feel unfortunate simply don’t read! Thank you I hope you enjoy! Any feedback is appreciated!

Event Masterlist

Today is norms birthday, the humans are having a big part at the outpost, humans, avatars and adult na’vi are invited. Jake was so excited, not only for the party but just to get away for a bit. He just can’t catch a break with his damn kids always getting in trouble and his wife constantly on his ass.  

Jake just wants to drink, do some drugs and have a good time. Just like the good old days back on earth. You were a medic at the outpost for both humans and avatars, while you do have an avatar yourself, you don't use it much unless you have to go outside, you rather your human body. You and jake have known each other since you were in high school. 

You joined the military together and he always protected his little doctor until the incident where he lost his legs. Even after that, you were the one who took care of him, you were the one to save his life in the field and get him to a hospital, you were the one who sat on his bedside waiting for him to wake up. And when he did, you took him home and became something of a care giver, a wife. 

When jake was given the opportunity to come to pandora in his late brother’s place, he advocated for you to go along, he said ‘if she’s not going neither am I.’ Honestly, it touched your heart a bit to see the way he still cared for you. Within a few weeks on being on the new moon, everyone was convinced you and Jake were a couple, and you both made no move to correct them. You slept in the same room, ate off each other's plates, you were generally very close, attached to the hip. 

Unfortunately for you, jake didn't develop feelings the same way you did when he ended up mating with his wife, Neytiri. She was an amazing warrior and am incredible mother. You couldn’t help but be a bit envious, its natural, you loved jake, and she just took him out from right under you. You couldn’t be that mad though, could you? You never told him you loved him. You stuffed those feelings down like it would kill you, everyone thought you'd be heartbroken at the news and truthfully you were, but you loved him enough to see how happy he was when he first mated and there was nothing you could have done by then. So, you just moved on with life. 

Which brings you too tonight. Many of the na’vi has taken a liking to Norm. He respects their ways and in turn they respect him too, so the turnout was great. You could have sworn the entire clan was here. You knew that wasn't true though when you spot jake sitting next to Norm and group of their other friends around a fire pit by the indoor pool. 

You walk up to them and take a seat next to jake, he snorts some blue powder before taking a swing of his drink and dropping his big heavy arm around your smaller body. “Hey Babygirl, I was starting to think you weren’t coming” he smiled widely down at you, his pupils were dilatated, only a sliver of green showed itself.  

“What's that?” you say as you take a shot of na’vi liquor, it has to be the strongest alcohol you’ve ever had. You point to the blue powder on the table in front of them, glancing around you saw other na’vi snorting the same. “It’s drugs, like coke on earth, it has the same kind of effects on na’vi, I would offer you but they said not to give it to humans, something about unlikable side effects” jake explained before taking another swing of alcohol 

“Will it kill me?” you look up at him, your hair was tied into a messy ponytail and you were wearing a low-neck crop top and ripped jeans that fits just perfectly around your hips and ass, at least that's what jake thought.  

 He shook his head knowing where you were going with this conversation, you both have been trying new drugs since high school, honestly you are surprised you made it this far in life with all the damage you must have done to your organs together. “But I shouldn’t let you try, I don’t think you’ll like how it’ll make you feel Babygirl” 

You sigh before pulling in his fingers in front your chest from the hand that was hanging on your shoulder, “Doesn’t it make you feel good jake? You're gonna deny me?” you plead with him. “Ugh ok fine, but not here, I'm not getting in trouble for your bad trip, let’s go to our old room” he holds your hand as you both walk down the small hallways to the bed room, it's the last room in the hallways so it had a nice big window in it with the view of the forest.  

You walk in taking off your shoes to lay on your bed, Jake walks over to the na’vi sized computer chair he insisted was in this room whenever he felt like coming over, he dragged it over to the table and sat down emptying some of the pretty blue powder on it, he lined it up with a ruler on your desk and snorted. You watch his pupils dilate even more before you walk up to the desk.  

Jake tried to explain how you should take it but you quickly cut him off saying you’ve done coke before; you remember how to snort. Your sassy comments always make him laugh and he raises his hands up in surrender watching you bend over to the table a snort one of the more generous lines. 

After 15 minutes of waiting, you start to feel annoyed. Jake sits happily numb on the chair, spinning and making weird noises, “jake this isn’t doing anything. Normal coke would kick in by now” you say laying back on the bed, “Then snort another line girl”  

You hope off the bed and snort the remaining 2 more lines. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea, you stumble back onto jake’s huge thigh and his hand comes up to your back to stop you from falling. His hand covers your entire back and its very warm, almost hot. You melt into the feeling when he picks you up and puts you to sit on his thighs. “You ok?” he asked, you nod your head leaning back on his chest 

He’s not wearing his cummerbund or arm guards that he usually would. He smells really good? He always smelt good but tonight, something is different. “So, tell me why you are over here partying it up, and getting drunk and high out of your mind instead of cuddling with your warrior princess wife and children jake?” you tilt your head back looking up at him your eyes have a mischievous glint but he makes no move to question it.

He only shrugs and says, “Don’t want to be there, I need a fucking break, who knew having children would be so fucking hard, I just can’t catch a break. Honestly, I have never been as annoyed in my entire life than I've been in this pass week. Those goddamn kids don’t fucking listen” His ranting makes you laugh 

You wondered if your kids with him would have been so bad? But the two of you combined, it just might have been worse. “You know, I’m sorry you feel like that, kids are tuff huh” you giggle. You shut your eyes tightly as your skin starts feeling hot, hotter than his.  

Jake feels it too and rest a big hand on your forehead just to make sure. “Jake I-..” you mumble before your get off his body and stand up on wobbling legs. You move to stand by the ac vent to cool down your body but it doesn’t really work. ‘Is this a bad trip? maybe you should have listened’  

Without thinking you pull your crop top over your head, exposing your bra, this is not a weird thing for you and jake. He has seen you in many bras over the span of your life. “Is it hot?” you question, “No you’re tripping” he replies almost immediately.  

Your vision becomes blurry, almost red when you look back at him then it hits you. The emptiness, the unbelievable, painful emptiness. Your hands came up to rest on your lower stomach as you hunched over, your eyes shut tightly as you try to coup with the feeling, you didn’t know if you were about to throw up or shit yourself, is this supposed to happen? 

Jake noticing your state comes up to kneel in front of you, talking to you throw the feeling. All his words go in one ear and other the other as you try to catch your breath. However, you don't inhale oxygen, you inhale jake’s scent. It sends you spiraling, your eyes open looking up at him and he observes the color change from black to just a ring of white, you can still see him, your body becomes suddenly aware of his evert movement, every shift of his muscles, every inhale of air from the mask hanging around his neck. 

“Jake help...” tears fall from your eyes “empty please- it's so empty it hurts!" 

“What? What's empty?” he picks you up bridal style and rest you to lay down on your bed. You hunch over pulling your legs up to your chest and your hands in between your legs. Jake is panicking, how did he let this happen. “Hang on I’m gonna get some help” he starts to back away from you towards the bedroom door, “NO! Come back come back Help me!!” you shout at him, one hand reaching out for him. 

Jake only now realizes what is going on when he turns back to face you and he gets hit with your strong scent, you are horny, you are wet. He knows what this smells like because of his now sensitive nose, and from all the times you came to the clan and picked up a nice young adult to fuck you through the night. ‘So, this is what happens to humans? Fuck she took a lot’ 

He watched you writhe in pain trying to make the emptiness go away, he knows this must be awful for you. He remembers the first time he experienced Neytiri’s heat, it must he so much worse for a human. He can’t leave you like this, he caused this, he let you take those drugs, and so much of it too, you’re his best friend, he’ll have to help you. 

It’s not cheating. You are his best friend, since he could walk. Then after he started walking again. You have never left his side not once; he could always rely on you for everything. He would be a horrible person if he left you like this. “Ok, ok Babygirl let me help you” his voice was nervous but he still walked up to you and unbuttoned your pants pulling it down your flawless legs.  

You kick the jeans off and your body tries to go back to its previous position but jake stops it with his hand holding both your knees. It isn’t that hard, you aren’t strong so he doesn't use much effort, he just makes sure he doesn’t hurt you. His eyes dart over your half naked body. It is tonight jake can admit, you were always incredible hot, but you have grown into one of the hottest chicks he’s ever seen in his life, like right up there with his wife. 

He takes a deep breath when his eyes make contact with your panties that you have soaked up so much that even your thighs got some slick on it. “Jake pleeease” your sweaty hands grip his large fingers as you try to pull him closer. “Ok, ok-” he visibly swallows as he nervously answers. Jake is still very high, he has so much energy in him, he could fuck you until you pass out. But he knows you aren’t in your right mind, what if you regret his choice to help you. Fuck that 

Jake didn’t even try to talk to you again he just pulled your panties off a little too harshly pulling your entire body down and accidently ripping them in the process, but you didn’t care. When the cool air hit your wet pussy, you were reeling, your slick was thick, the wider jake spread your legs the long the string in the middle connected your folds, and he loved it.  

He wanted so bad to get in your pants but he didn’t want to be unfaithful, that’s not the kind of person he is. His groan sent shockwaves through you just hearing him, you shut your eyes as you reach out for him when his head bullies its way in between your legs, it's like wrapping your legs around a tree trunk, this man was huge compared to you.  

You didn't spend too much time pondering over that when you felt his wet tongue dart between your folds as if he was tasting you. You moan loudly at the slight bit of relief it gave you. Your hands tangled into his dreads as you pull him closer to you. Jake’s big hands snaked up your body resting on your tits that are hidden under the bra. One of his hands moved under you to the hook and unhooked it effortlessly with his big fingers, your legs were thrown over his should hanging up in the air, you toes curled when he sucked so sweetly on your clit. 

You thought you’d cum on the spot but nothing prepared you for when his cat like tongue pushed its way into your hole making you clench around him. He groaned at the feeling sending vibrations through your cunt. His fingers played with your small nipples, rubbing and pressing on your sensitive nubs making you squirm and whimper in his grasp. 

Jake felt his loincloth tighten when he left you gush on his tongue, and like a good boy, he lapped it all up. Jake didn’t let a drop of your pussy juice touch the bedsheets he slurped it all up. The obscene noises finally came to note when you were coming down from your high and you realized what you had done in your moment of clarity. You looked down at jake’s head stuffed in between your thighs as you squirm to back away from him. 

But fuck, it felt so good having him down there. Watching his huge body bend to make sure you were comfortable, watching him kneel on the floor half off your bed, all for you. “Fuck Jake!” his finger slipped right in, you didn't even process his hand had moved from your tits but now it was pumping in and out of you. You throw your head back enjoying this as much as you can before it’s over, you mewl when he adds another finger gripping his forearms tightly, “Gosh baby, this pussy is stretching so nice for me” his mouth detaches from your clit to raise up and say that before he goes right back down. 

You arch your back feeling yourself come for the second time on his mouth, you feel his fingers speed up hitting your g-spot amazingly with every small thrust. You aren’t even sure his entire fingers are in there but you don’t care. You scream out his name when you cum on his fingers. Your body shakes as your dig your nails into his skin. 

When he pulls out his fingers and raises his head, he looks up at you with a goofy smile, “Feel good baby? Did you like that?” his sweet laugh following his words as he observes your fucked out face. You nod laughing along with him and pull on his arm for him to lay on the pillows next to you.  

Luckily, you have one of the bigger avatar beds on your room so jake fits fine, your body curls up into his warm chest as you catch your breath and his arms are thrown over you, “Jake...”  

“shh..its ok, we can take about it after, tomorrow when we both sober up” he shushes you and pulls you a bit closer, your thigh grazes his bulge hidden under the loincloths and you feel the familiar emptiness return. You boldly run your hand down his abdomen feeling the slight fat that accumulated over the years, you think it’s pretty fucking hot, he’s not a dad, he’s a daddy now. 

You grip his bulge running your small palm up and down his big, thick length. You feel hotter thinking about all the things he could do to you with it, jake doesn’t stop you, he has some idea by now your symptoms mimic that of a female na’vi’s heat. He knows you aren’t done yet. 

The fingers on your other hand trial to his tail, untying his loincloths and pulling it off his body, you are a bit dazed as you watch it spring up in between your bodies resting nicely on the entire length of your stomach. The size difference only makes you want to take him more. Your mind is completely dazed now when you sit up pushing him to lay on his back. Jake has yet to say anything just taking in the feeling of your small, soft hands stroking his cock, he watching your smaller body bend over and drop a blob of spit right on the head making him hiss. 

You make no move to suck him off though and jake is fighting all his urges not to push your head down on him. He could just imagine how good it would feel for your sweet, small mouth sucking in his cock head- 

“Jake-” you look at him with pleading eyes. “Go ahead, do whatever you have too” he says to you in a soft tone. You swing your legs over his body straddling his thighs, still stroking his cock with both your hands.

You sit up over his cock and slowly sit yourself down on it. If it weren’t for the drugs in your system, you know this stretch would have been painful, but right now. It feels so fucking delicious. How have gone this entire time without feeling this. When your bottom out on his huge cock there is a noticeable bulge in your tummy going up to your navel. Jake looks like he's about to explode.  

One of his hands cover his eyes and the other squeezes the flesh of your hip tightly. His teeth are clenched, biting down on nothing leaving his fangs on full display. It looks so sexy; you wish he’d bite you a bit- 

“Fuck Babygirl you’re so fucking tight” he says through his teeth, his eyes finally uncovered and looking down at you. His comment makes you grin wickedly, you bet he’s never felt anything like this before, anyone like you. 

You raise your hips moving up and down with shallow thrust as you get used to his massive cock, but you are so horny and his cock seems to be the only thing that's helping you fill the emptiness you once felt. You feel like if you pull out completely you are gonna turn inside out, but it feels fucking amazing. 

“Yea you like that?” your movements speed up causing your cute, perky tits to bounce in his face. One of his hands push you close to him from your back while you bounce up and down on him, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue flicks making you mewl, you grind down on his cock somehow fitting more of it up there causing him to moan, “fuck- fuck yess” his hands come down to rest on your hips helping you bounce on him by effortlessly raising you up and dropping you back down.  

He moves your entire body on him, using you as some kind of flesh light but you aren’t complaining, you love this feeling, he is gonna make you come so hard on him, you feel like your gonna spray. “Baby your clenching, I didn’t even think it was possible for you to get tighter fuck-” jake pants, cursing under his breath as the feel of your body in him.  

“God, I used to think about this all the time, bouncing this sweet little ass on my big cock” jake moans, his chest vibrates with it, almost like he’s purring. Your small hands come to rest on his chest for some stability. His thrust becomes erratic.  

You can hear his tail thumbing on the bed harshly as it moves around. Your vision blurs with tears but this time it's from pleasure. You can’t focus, everything moves so fast with his pace. You scream out when his large palm presses down on the bulge in your lower stomach. “Feel that baby? That's me deep inside your little cunt.” 

“Yes! Yes- I- feels so good Jaaake” you whimper and pant trying to speak. You know he likes what you said when his grip tightens impossibly and he smirks at your words. He watches you intensely as he uses your body to get off but he knows you love it. He doesn’t even want to admit how much he loves it and fuck he loves it so much. 

He has wanted to feel the inside of this pussy since you got older, in your 20s when you blossomed into this beautiful, sexy little thing. But by then he was already mated with his first son on the way. Oh, how he's glad he’s getting the chance to fuck you now, he doesn't feel like he ever wants to stop but when you scream out his name for the millionth time tonight and your juices squirt all over his abdomen and thighs, he knows he’s not lasting long. 

He bounces you faster on him overstimulating you, making you wail out for him some more. His thrust ease slightly when he’s pumping his cum into you. Jake has 4 kids already, but Eywa he’s hoping this one takes. He doesn't pull out of your spent hole; he just lets you collapse on his chest and he rubs your back for comfort as you pass out on him. 

What a perfect fucking party, Jake couldn’t have asked for anything better than this. Just like the good old days.  

✨ I hope you enjoyed reading! Repost, comments and likes are always appreciated! If anyone would like to be added or removed from the Taglist feel free to comment!🩵

Taglist:

@strongheartneteyam @rivatar @delusionalwh6re @nilahsstuff @xylianasblog @quicktosimp @xrollingmyeyesx

[shadowxamyweek]

Art piece is by @lambpaca! Happy Leap Year to all you Lovers

Oh I love this. Friend, again, thank you, thank you, thank you

So there's a silly little tradition that was/is still practiced in several different countries. The tradition was, on the 29th of February, women could propose to men. It is still practiced today, more in jest than anything else, but in my own sphere, I have seen the Leap Year Day become a time when 'unconventional' couples of all stripes get together, both cis and queer.

I always liked this unofficial tradition. My partner and I actually made our plans to get married last Leap Year, in 2020, over text during lockdown. Sitting here, now married to my best friend, I still have a copy of this original print on my phone to remind me of the joy in that moment, as this picture was the thing that started that conversation.

So it's got a lot of sentimentality for me

---

The above was drafted before news broke that Tumblr would be partnering with Midjourney and Open Ai. As such, this beautiful art is now protected by the brilliant people of Chicago University and their relentless work to combat scrapping with Glaze and Nightshade.

There is a certain poetics, to me at least, posting this work now. The whole concept of Leap Year engagements was to go against the norm, pushing back against expectations and current reality as we strive for something better. The reason the tradition is no longer mainstream is because many of us have reached a point in our existence where we do not have to wait to be free.

Many, but nowhere near all. The fight is not yet done. As such, we will continue on until it is, in fact, all of us.

This goes for all aspects of personhood, but now, in this specific case, it also means joy in the freedom of art and artistic expression directly in spite of the companies that would seek to try to steal that from us and profit off of its corpse.

In short, fuck the concept that what is happening is normal. Fuck the concept that we are powerless to change it. Love is Love. People are People. Art is Art. Joy cannot be minted in artificial hands, be it those of societal dictation or designed machine. No matter what happens, the human spirit will prevail, and we will break any shit that stands in our way of achieving happiness.

Thank you again, @lambpaca - This means more than words can say.

[coupleoffanfics]

I might write about this one day. Maybe. Probably.

Random things about y/n with the batfam

Based on First Post

Bruce Wayne

Bruce never knew how to deal with y/n’s emotional outbursts even before they drifted apart. Out of everyone y/n was hands down the most emotional out of all the kids. Like what he is supposed to do when she’s crying about stray cats that don’t have a home. Or those times when she’d tear up over failing a test.

Just gives her a pat on the back and tries saying that it's not the end of the world. Not really helping as it invalidates her emotions. She makes a mental note to not go to Bruce after getting the same “reassuring words” from him every time.

Nearly spat out his coffee when she called him Pa for the first time. It was only after a couple of months of living there. Seeing the shocked reaction, she quickly tried to take it back until he reassured her with a small smile.

“You won’t be my dad, but you can be my pa. So when I have kids you can be called peepaw.”

Bruce isn’t sure when y/n stopped calling him Pa, but he remembers how he felt hearing her call him Sir or Bruce. How unnatural it sounded. It was too formal, but what hurt the most was how she said it without a second thought. Acting like it was the norm.

What happened to him being Pa?

What does he have to do to get his Pa status back?

Hopefully he doesn’t learn that y/n gave that title to someone else.

Dick Grayson

Kinda regrets not getting to know y/n before he and the whole family start going off into the deep end. It's not like they never interact or anything. Dick had trained her when she was working toward becoming Batgirl, but it was Bruce who mainly trained her.

Dick wasn’t nearly as close to her as Tim or even Jason. He didn’t have the time when juggling the Teen Titans, establishing himself as Nightwing, and being a Wayne. It was a stressful time of his life.

But he has much more free time now. Meaning he has much more time to make up for not being a big brother for y/n.

Slightly jealous that everyone except for him and Damian know or at least knew y/n. Some more than others.

So to gain an edge he read her diary. Only once he swears and it wasn’t like he went searching for it or anything. Didn’t know she had one. It was just sitting there in a box under her bed. Anyone could have found it really.

Reading the neat handwriting and discovering the personality of y/n was interesting. Kinda expected something along the lines of teen angst constering how aloof she comes off when around the family. Instead he found words of an insecure yet optimistic girl.

Dick uses his newly acquired intel to make it easier for y/n to talk to him. Brings up media that she likes to bond over the “same” interests they have. Uses her insecurities against her.

If she gets mad at him for trying to plant the idea that her best friend was a bad person, he’ll act like she’s overrating. Say that she was yelling even if she wasn’t. When asking if there was any validity to his bullshit, he’ll bring up one of her insecurity.

“You’ve always been slow when it comes to everything, but good thing your favorite brother is always there for you.”

“Yeah, good thing I’ll always have Tim.”

“Yeah, wait-”

Jason Todd

They were somewhat close before he died as they trained and sparred with each other. He wished he was able to see her put on her suit for the first time as he knows how hard she worked for it. Could practically hear her squealing when she looked in the mirror.

Unlike the others, Jason avoided y/n on purpose. He felt ashamed for beating and having snapped her arm when he was trying to kill everyone. She wasn’t even fighting back. If it wasn’t for Bruce and Tim, y/n would have ended up in a casket.

When hearing that she quit being Batgirl, he was kind of surprised. He remembers the younger y/n trying so hard to meet Bruce’s expectations. Despite failing more than he could count, she always got back to work. Always trying to improve. Never being satisfied with herself.

Wanted to know what made her quit, but decided against it. It wasn’t his place to ask and he doubted that she’d tell him. It wasn’t like she told anyone though.

Was kinda glad that y/n quit. Jason always felt queasy when seeing or even thinking of her getting hurt since it reminds him of when he was so close to taking her life. And he always felt that she wasn’t made for this kind of work.

She was too soft to fight the Killer Croc or face Scarecrow. Even though Jason always felt that way, he’d never say it aloud. He couldn’t bring himself to dampen that twinkle in her eyes.

“I saw how hard you hit the punching bag, why are you holding back now?”

“I don’t know…I don’t want to hurt you or anything.”

“y/n, you're supposed to come at me with everything you got.”

“But I don’t like hurting you or anyone.”

Tim Drake

Tim and y/n were close even though it was a bit awkward at first. They geeked out about the latest games and shows. Staying up late enjoying whatever type entertainment with junk food much to the dismay of Bruce and Alfred.

y/n admired his intelligence and how patient he was when explaining something to her. Whether it was homework or something else entirely, he was the one she felt most comfortable asking for help from.

She was low-key jealous of how quickly Tim was able to gain the title of Robin while it took her years of training to become Batgirl. But the jealousy would later be admiration for a time.

Tim always felt privileged when y/n showed her artwork to him. She never likes showing it to anyone and hates when someone tries to look at what she was drawing. So when she asks for his attention and flips her notebook/tablet around he can't help smiling.

Even when they were on good terms, he wasn't sure how to approach her when going through a low. She either needed to be alone, talk, or push. The thing is Tim doesn't know how to appropriately react. He just doesn't want to make anything worse, so he ends up having her sit outside to absorb the sun rays. Since he noticed how that had brightened her low mood.

When y/n quit being Batgirl he gave her some space before asking about it. Surprisingly he didn't get much of an answer. She was usually so open about everything, especially with him.

Realizing that they were getting nowhere with this he backed off. Assuming that she'd tell him when she was ready.

Overtime they began hanging out less and less. He hadn't realized how far they drifted apart until one night. Just making a quick run to the kitchen for some coffee. It was pretty late and he didn't think any else was or would be awake.

Yet there was y/n sitting at the kitchen island writing on a paper with notes scattered around her. Homework. When Tim made his presence known with a simple hi, he noticed how…tense she got. Like she got caught stealing from the forbidden cookie jar.

When asking what she was working on, she gave short answers. He'd expected a monologue of how frustrating learning this new material is. Then asking if she needed help, he saw her jaw slightly clench. It looked like she was going to say more, but only declined with a no.

It was odd, but he didn't think too much of it at the time. He had…He didn't want to admit it, but he had more important things to deal with. If he knew of things that were going to happen, he would've done so much differently.

"— Really? I think this is my worst one yet."

"I don't know what you're talking about, it looks great. I couldn't ever draw something that good."

"Just because you can't draw doesn't make my drawing better. Wait, you were just shitting on me for comparing myself to others."

"Yeah, but that's different."

Damian Wayne/Al Ghul

Never liked y/n from the start. Before she even opened her mouth, just that smile looked so wrong. Damian couldn't put his finger on it, but didn't like it. It seemed so fake because it was.

There wasn't anything that made him feel like he needed to respect her like the others. Sure, she was Batgirl but only for a few years.

She never helped them with anything. She's never there to help in the first place. In his opinion she wasn't anything more than dead weight.

When insulted there was never an insult thrown back. He can tell when he struck a nerve when her lips move to the right and her eyes slightly harden. Maybe her nose will flare up if he hit hard enough.

Then she just responds with a hum before ignoring him or leaving the room. If she didn't respect herself enough to defend herself then why should he even bother with her.

When the family slowly/is yandere he'll reevaluate his view of y/n. Still thinks she's weak and cannot do anything, but less hateful. Which is a good thing until he's trying to have her attention whenever they're in the same room.

Or when he's digging through all her artwork while Dick is giggling to himself when reading her diary. Finding out their interest in the arts, he's forcing her to paint. Doesn't care if she doesn't like it, they're painting together.

"Why can't you carry your weight around the house? All you do is sit in your room."

"Hm."

"I don't even know why you're still here, Father should have kicked you out after you stopped being useful."

"Mhhm."

"I know you can hear me. You just don't know how to respond because it's true."

"Hmm."

|*|*|*|*|

Dear Diary,

Today my family tried to talk to me.

It was weird.

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 2

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

Some of the conversation feels a little clunky, but we want these two to make up and move on, right?

Part 1 Here Part 7 Here Part 12 Here

Part 3 Here Part 8 Here

Part 4 Here Part 9 Here

Part 5 Here Part 10 Here

Part 6 Here Part 11 Here

Norm hates this feeling. Laying in bed, he can feel his stomach twisted in knots. This gut-wrenching feeling has kept him up most of the night, realizing he’s got to make a decision. As far as he’s deduced from his sleepless night of pondering, he’s got two primary options. 

Option A. He pretends yesterday’s conversation with (Y/N) never happened, and they continue exchanging small talk, pleasantries, and those awkward neighbor half-waves until the end of time. The scaredy cat in him prefers this option. It avoids confrontation and maintains the status quo they’ve held for the last couple of years. It is simple and lacks any unnecessary entanglements. Things just go on according to plan. He’s done it before, it can easily be done again. 

OR he can proceed with Option B to confront (Y/N) about what she said in the cafeteria yesterday. This option has sparked his curious side. Cause that entire interaction was odd, wasn’t it? Norm had so many questions, but are they worth pursuing? Opening that can of worms could lead to more problems, more decisions, and fewer answers. No. He needed to know. Curiosity might just kill the cat, but at least he’d be able to sleep at night. 

(Y/N) worked in one of the maintenance labs as Vault 33’s official Pip-Boy Programmer—one of the perks of doing well on the Vault G.O.A.T exams. Norm was eager, planning to stop by the lab first thing before he headed to his desk. Unless someone had major issues with their Pip-Boy, they’d probably have the lab to themselves that early. Alright, it was decided. He threw off the certified Vault-Tec comforter, climbed out of bed, and headed toward the shower to get ready. 

—--------------------

You were already at your desk, pretending to be occupied, when Norm MacLean appeared in the doorway of the lab, leaning on the doorframe and fiddling with his Pip-Boy. Truth be told, you were half-expecting him, especially after yesterday. But maybe not this soon. You were hoping he’d stew on this decision for at least a day.

“Good Morning, Norm. Pip-Boy on the fritz?” you ask, knowing full well that the reason he was here had nothing to do with his Pip-Boy. Even if his Pip-Boy was malfunctioning, Norm was more than capable of taking care of that repair without your assistance. 

“Yeah, I think I’m having some software issues. Do you think you could do a diagnostic run for me?” 

You smile, “Of course. If you wouldn’t mind taking it off and filling out the repair form, I can start right away.” 

He complies, handing you his Pip-Boy and taking the clipboard with the attached Vault-Tec paperwork. As he starts on the paperwork, he estimates he’s got roughly twenty minutes of fake errand cover to work with. 

You attach the Pip-Boy to the diagnostic cable running from your computer, load up the program, and wait. “It will just be a few minutes to get a full picture of what’s going on,” you reassure him. 

“That’s fine. My supervisor knows I was having a few issues with it this morning,” Norm says, barely looking up from the clipboard. 

The two of you fall into awkward silence, neither wanting to be the first to break it. 

You relent. “Hey, I’m sorry if yesterday made you uncomfortable. I know we haven’t spoken much at all lately, but I heard about what happened from Reg, and I just couldn’t stop myself from coming over. It wasn’t right of me to use your situation as my catharsis, especially since we had that failing out. I should have respected that. We can continue on as we were, friendly neighbors in the same Vault.” The words stuck in your throat on the way out. That’s not what you wanted, but if that’s what Norm came here to say, better get it out of the way sooner. 

Oof, now he felt terrible. Norm should have known you’d apologize for thinking you made him uncomfortable. That’s your nature. You’ve always been empathic to the needs of your friends. He needs to come clean. 

“I never wanted that.” 

I’m sorry. What did he say? He never wanted that. To stop being friends? Your brain was going a mile a minute, swirling with questions, too many to vocalize at once. Thankfully, Norm elaborated before you even tried. 

“I never wanted to stop being friends, but the closer we got to graduation, the more effort you seemed to put into exams and passing, being the best in the class. You had ambitions and goals, and (Y/N) you could achieve them. You didn’t need to be dragged down by the Black Sheep of Vault 33.” He tries not to think about his label, and usually, it doesn’t bother him. But right now,  it weighs on him; it feels laminated across his forehead, defining him. 

“Norman,” you manage to sigh out. “I’ve always admired that about you. That’s what I meant yesterday. I wish I had the confidence to act that way before now; I’m sure I’d be much happier. After my dad passed away, I wasn’t sure how I was going to navigate,” you gesture to the air around you, "everything. I was on my own, and subconsciously, I picked up on the reality that the better I did in that classroom or for the Vault, the more control I thought I could have over my life.” 

She didn’t need to explain. He knew exactly what she meant. It is kind of an unspoken rule of Vault 33. Obviously, those who did well on their exams got matched into the most coveted jobs within the vault, but those placements also impacted other situations. Those higher-achieving students had more say in when and to whom they were married, more access to leadership positions, and the list goes on. 

“I had no idea how my life would go, but at least I knew I wanted a hand on the steering wheel. I mean, I’m not sure if I actually want to be married or if that’s part of the programming to be in a relationship, but whatever happens, I want it to at least feel as though I made the decision." You pause and add, "Seriously, could you imagine if I got stuck having to marry Chad Johnston?” 

Norm snorted. The juxtaposition of his former classmates as a married couple was hilarious. Those two couldn’t be more opposites. “Well, at least he’d have someone to teach him to read,” he managed between laughs. 

This garnered a snicker from you as well. “Haha, you’re hilarious,” you say in the most sarcastic tone you can muster. “So, what do you think? Can we act like adults and finally move on? Or do we double down on whatever self-destructive tendencies we’ve got going on here?” 

“Hmmm, I don’t know about you, but I’m really leaning into that second one.” He pauses and puts his hand to his chin. “On the other hand, it might be nice to have lunch with someone I’m not related to.”

DING. “Vault-Tec Pip-Boy diagnostic program is now complete, no issues were detected.” 

You both smile. “Well, it looks like the software issues seemed to have resolved themselves.” 

“Isn’t technology incredible?” Norm asks as he stands to leave. 

[topgun-imagines]

Forget Me Not (iv)

Requested: no

Summary: With the simple stress-induced headache out of the way, you finally get the opportunity to reconnect with Bradley.

Word count: 2.0k

Warnings: hospitals, amnesia, mentions of death, headaches, memory loss, inaccurate medical terms, angst.

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x wife!reader

Previous part | Next part

“Jake,” No matter how many times Natasha called his name, the head-strong pilot refused to stop. Still, they followed him through the sterile-smelling halls of the hospital until he stopped abruptly. “Hangman,” She tried again, more firm this time. Wordlessly, he turned to her and snapped something along the lines of ‘What, Trace?’ “Look, you know that we’ll be behind you no matter what,” Jake stared at her blankly and willed her to just get to the point. Your doctor was on the other side of the door right in front of him. He could be talking to him right now if Phoenix would just hurry up. “But you have to tell us what’s going on.”

The pilot should feel elated. He should be excited at the fact that his wife is feeling better. However, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of dread that was growing stronger and stronger by the second. Jake may not have been a doctor, but he did know that a headache after brain trauma was not a good sign.

He tried to muster up a grateful smile, he really did, but all he could offer her was a barely-there tired grin. “I know, Nix,” Sucking in a sharp breath, he knew that he had to tell his friends why he was in such a rush. “We were just talking and then she suddenly seemed like she was in pain. She said she was going to sleep.” Instantly, Bradley and Natasha understood what the problem was.

They stood behind him as he knocked on the door and waited for your doctor to answer. When the door was pulled open, the man was just putting his stethoscope around his neck. He greeted Jake with a smile. “What can I help you with, Lieutenant?”

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Jake started, attempting to remain professional even though he was worried sick. Once the older man assured him that it wasn’t a problem, he continued. “But I was hoping that you could come check on my wife. She appeared to have a headache earlier.” The man nodded and followed Jake back to your room. When he stepped inside quietly with Jake close on his heels, Bradley and Natasha took that as a sign to return to their seats.

Inside the room, you were peacefully sleeping on the scratchy hospital sheets, breathing softly and eyelids fluttering every few seconds. Jake watched you worriedly, working his lip between his teeth. The doctor was careful as he looked in your eyes, still trying not to wake you up. He checked a few more monitors before offering Jake a reassuring smile. “Everything seems fine. Given all the stress she has endured in the past couple days, a headache isn’t out of the norm.” With those words, Jake could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Jake thanked your doctor as he stepped out of the room. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage. After everything that had happened over the past few days, all he wanted was for things to be okay. At least for a little while.

When Bradley saw your doctor step out of the room, he patted Phoenix’s hand gently before stepping inside. The first thing he noticed was Jake leaning against the wall, his head tipped back and eyes shut tightly. “You okay, man?” The usually put-together pilot startled at the sound of his friend's voice.

He cleared his throat and nodded, his eyes only meeting Bradley’s briefly before looking back to you. Bradshaw stepped forward to comfort his friend, but instantly noticed the dishevelled state of his clothes and hair. He had been wearing the same outfit for almost a week and Bradley was convinced that he hadn’t showered for at least two. “Jake,” Bradley started cautiously, not wanting to piss the man off. He only hummed, not taking his eyes off your peacefully sleeping form. “When was the last time you showered?” That caused his eyes to snap to Bradley.

“I’m not leaving her. Not again.” The words were out of his mouth in mere seconds. Jake squeezed your hand softly, completely disregarding Bradley’s statement as he looked at your sleeping face.

Bradley shook his head. “That’s not what I'm saying,” Trying again, Bradley chose his words even more carefully this time. “I’m just saying that she’s sleeping now. You have time to go and take a shower and take care of yourself,” He knew that there was one statement he could use that was a surefire way to get Jake to agree. “She wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Silently, Jake stood from that creaky, uncomfortable chair and turned to his wingman. Before he responded, he sucked in a long breath and released it. “You’re right,” He nodded, silently thanking Rooster for calling him out. Just as he was about to step out the door, he turned back. “Would you stay with her? I don’t want her waking up alone.” Bradley could hear the care laced with worry in his friend's voice.

He nodded reassuringly, taking a seat in the creaky plastic chair and pulling his phone out. As Jake closed the door softly, Bradley began swiping through another level of Candy Crush.

“Morning, Sleepyhead,” Bradley grinned as you blinked your eyes open. You smiled at the sound of his voice and twisted your head to face him. You noticed that you could no longer feel your heart beating in your temples. That sent a surge of relief through you. Before you could respond to the mustached man, he spoke again. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

You nodded with a soft smile, giving Bradley permission to ask whatever he wished. “I know that you probably don’t like people asking you this, but can you remember anything else?” His words were quiet as he tried not to scare you. While he was curious to know whether you could remember anything else, he didn’t want you to feel pressured.

You nodded before you began speaking. “It’s okay,” Pausing for a few seconds, you tried your hardest to remember anything that you could. “I remember.” Suddenly, memories of a breakfast spent in bed with someone flooded through your mind. You could see the colour of the sheets and feel the cool sea breeze from the open window. There was a man next to you, he had his arm wound around your waist, his thumb drawing delicate patterns into the bare skin of your waist. You were looking at him with pure love. The only problem was that you couldn’t see his face. You had no idea who he was.

You gasped, tears welling in your eyes at the knowledge that you had someone to come home to. Someone that you loved more than you could know. And you couldn’t even remember him. You sniffled quietly and Bradley watched you through concerned eyes. “I remember a breakfast in bed,” You started and the pilot immediately softened. “I can remember the colour of the sheets and the smell of the food. But there’s someone beside me that I can’t see,” Eyes slipped shut, fat, hot tears rolling down your flushed cheeks in waves. Desperately, your mind chased the man that you couldn’t remember, regardless of how hard you tried. “I can’t remember him.” It sounded almost like a whimper as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

Suddenly, you remembered the man sitting beside you. “I’m sorry.” You murmured, embarrassment serging through you. The lump in your throat was almost overwhelming as you cleared your throat.

Once you wiped your eyes once more, you turned to Bradley. You couldn’t pretend to miss the sympathetic look in his eyes. You hated seeing that look. It felt as if everyone around you had been looking at you like that ever since you woke up. For once, you wished that the people around you could just treat you like they did before the incident. Not that you could remember how that was. You knew that it was because they cared about you, and you really did appreciate it, but you couldn’t help but feel as if they were looking down on you in some way.

Bradley watched as you tried your hardest not to let any more tears fall. It reminded him of the scared girl that he had met all those years ago. When Bradley first met you, you had just joined the Navy. You were living in a small apartment on the south side of Baltimore, away from any of your family and friends. It had only been a few weeks since you moved into your tiny apartment when he met you.

The pilot had met you in a bar, spending the entire night trying to befriend you. It was obvious to most that you were the more reserved type, and even though you tried to ignore him, eventually, Bradley was able to crack through your tough exterior. Ever since that moment, he was your best friend. The two of you were inseparable. It almost made you wonder whether there was something else between the two of you that you couldn’t remember.

“Scoot over.” Bradley tilted his chin forward. You shuffled over slowly, tears still welling in your eyes as you thought back on your memory. Who was the man in the dream? Could it have been Bradley? One of his arms settled around your shoulder after you nodded in approval. Pulling you into his side, one of his thick thighs rested against yours and his foot nudged yours.

Your head dropped down to rest on his shoulder. Bradley’s thumb brushed slowly over the soft skin on your arm. “You don’t have to remember everything all right now,” He murmured, no louder than a whisper. “The most important thing is that you're okay,” You could feel his chest rumbling under your ear, his voice being even deeper than it normally was. “You gave us all a really good scare. All we want is for you to be okay. Okay?” He grinned when you giggled from the tickle of his mustache against your cheek.

All that could be heard in the small hospital rooms was the sound of your soft laughs as Bradley told you tales of the mischief that you and he got into over the past few years. While you enjoyed hearing Jake tell you stories about how the two of you met, there was just something about listening to Rooster talk than had you snuggling further into him.

“One of my favourite memories of us was in that bar one night in Tulsa. With the piano.” That was all you had to say and Bradley knew what you were talking about. One night, after the two of you had been reunited in Oklahoma, you headed out to the local bar. Bradley decided to teach you how to play Great Balls of Fire on the piano. That night had ended with you and Bradley stumbling drunkenly back to his housing, lying out on the back porch while you stared up at the stars. It was by far one of your favourite moments.

That had Bradley chuckling quietly as he reminisced on that wonderful night. As your head dropped further into his chest, you started to wonder whether or not it could have been Bradley in your memory. Your hand reached up and you fiddled with his dog tags, seeking comfort in the presence of the mustached aviator. After the hell that you had endured over the past few days, you were ecstatic that you could finally feel at peace.

Bradley continued whispering softly to you, not sparing any detail as he recounted moment after moment from your past. Your eyes fluttered shut, soothed by the low timbre of Bradley's voice. It was hard to remember a time when you had ever felt this relaxed. Holding you closely, Bradley was happy that he was able to draw your mind away from the overwhelming stress of the past few days. Little did you know that Jake was standing just outside the door, listening intently to every word whispered between you and his wingman.

a/n: thank you all so much for reading!! Stay tuned for future parts of this series and let me know if you would like to be tagged <3

Tagging: @topguncultleader @soulmates8 @t0kyoreveng3rs @there-goes-thefighter @supercatgirl006 @blueoorchid @dempy @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @randomfangirl97 @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @nyx2021 @aviatorobsessed @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @angelbabyange @oliviah-25 @cassiemitchell @classyunknownlover @shelbycillian @khaylin27 @bruher @sunsetsimpsblog @lovelywiseprincess @fandom-life-12 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @emmza63 @cornishkat @iceman-kazansky @himbos-on-ice @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @wkndwlff @entertainmentgal8 @djs8891 @blackwidownat2814 @dakotakazansky @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @memoriesat30 @sarahjoestewy-blog @ducks118 @marvelouslyme96 @linkpk88 @missathlete31 @xoxabs88xox @abbymwall @eternallyvenus @keileighr @rey26 @lt-spork

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[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Dou you still write for fenrys? If you do, can we get some fluff? Everything you wrote about him is absolutely PERFECT!! But ofc, take your time❤️❤️

Hard days

warning: some tog spoilers, loss of a family member, grief.

You had taken shelter in one of the rebuilt cities once Aelin had rightfully claimed her throne. The court was filling up way quicker than expected. The city growing and expanding every day. You had come there with hopes of a better future as well. Full of hope. Full of longing for something better. You had a little shop of your own. Kindly gifted by the queen herself. It wasn't anything big, you just loved sowing. Dresses, tunics, suits you name it. It was an honor to be able to bring your queen's wishes to life.

But it wasn't only the queen who had taken a liking to you. Fenrys had been a regular visitor to your shop. You only knew a couple of things about him. And those too were only from the gossip floating around town. He had a brother. Had. He had been killed by Maeve and he had never truly recovered. Most said that he only walked through the city in his wolf form. Rarely in any of the gatherings as a male. So the white wolf had because quite a regular visitor.

He sat outside for almost all the time. Until it had started snowing and your heart simply couldn't take it any longer. Dropping the fabric and needles you reached for the door. Your heart suddenly started beating fast. In the wolf form, he was huge. No average wild wolf. His head turned to you as you stepped outside. You swallowed quickly. Slightly regret your choice but there was no backing out now.

"It's snowing", you muttered, "You should come inside, the fire is blazing", you nodded towards the fireplace. Fanrys glanced through the window. "I bet wet fur ain't too pleasant either", you giggled slightly. The wolf let out a huff but still got up. Slowly stepping inside. "Is it okay if I close the door, i'll get it open for you the moment you want to go", you said softly, truly to make as little noise as possible. He nodded, continuing to sniff around.

You had continued to talk to him the whole night as you got back to work. Occasionally asking for his opinion on draping and color choices. He responded with blinks nods or growls at times. But you could tell that soon his anxiety eased, his fur getting all fluffy and smooth as he drifted off to sleep. That had been a useful norm for weeks now. Almost every night he was there waiting for the moment the last customer left. You had also started making more food, offering him a pot of his dinner.

Until almost a couple of months down the line when Fenrys hadn't shown up and your anxiety had peaked straight away. You had sat for hours waiting for him but there had been no sign of him coming any time soon. So you did the first thing that came to your mind. "Your grace", you bowed deeply as Aelin opened her cabin door. Dinner sounds falling through the open door. "Yn, what a pleasant surprise", she had smiled, "come in".

But you shook your head, "Have you seen Fenrys, is he here by any chance?". Her face changed instantly as she looked over her shoulder, "No, dear, he doesn't spend time with us that often. Is something wrong?". You swallowed thickly, "He spends nights in my shop but... he didn't show up tonight and I just have this bad feeling", you said, worry lacing your words. A large male with dark features stepped up, "Today marks a year since his brother had been killed, it's better if you leave him alone, girl", the male snarled at you. "Lorcan", another female called out in your defense.

But you only held yourself higher, "I'm telling you that I need to find him. I need to make sure he's okay", your hands twisted into fists, "With or without your help", you said firmly. Lorcan narrowed his eyes at you but something in his eyes had shifted. "Gavriel, you mind", he turned towards the table where a male with long blond hair sat. He simply nodded before getting up, "This won't be pretty", he said in a much calmer tone. "Does it look to you like I care if it's pretty?", you grumbled back.

The woods were dark and maker, you would never step into them on your own. You bad no idea how Gavriel and Lorcan even saw anything. "He might be in a mood", Lorcan warned you. "He's been going through it, our boy", Gavriel added, "But I'm glad that he found a friend in you". You smiled at them your mind still racing. Till your eye fell on a heaving figure. Labored breathing, pained cries. Your steps picked up instantly as you rushed before the two males.

"Fenrys", you called out, pushing through the branches. The wolf only howled in pain. "Fen", you said once more making his head twirl to the side. Fangs out as he gets ready to attack. You stopped instantly and within a beat of a heart two fea soldiers were right in front of you but that only made Fenrys grow more. "Let me", you muttered, stepping from between them. "I got worried", you muttered, "Was waiting for you all night", you said softly, extending your hand towards him. Fenrys's eyes softened as a pained whine left his lips. You simply nodded along, "I know, but you don't have to go through this alone". Almost at the last sound of your words a warm light flashed and a male almost twisted your size and sagged forward. You had reached to catch him your Fenrys as you two sunk to the floor. His hair was all matted and dirty, the scars on his face in desperate need of cleaning and some soothing salve. Yet he was still so beautiful. "Oh, Fenrys", you said softly, guiding his face to your shoulder as you pulled your cloak over him.

The two males had helped you carry him back to your shop, where you had ushered him into a warm bath filled with soothing oil mixtures. Humming to yourself as you carefully detangled his hair section by section. A satisfied growl left the wolf's lips from time to time. "I can give it a little trim, just the tips though", you said after a moment, "Braid it for you as well". Fenrys turned to you slightly, "You should be disgusted by this", his voice was raspy and shaky almost no doubt from the lack of using it. "Nothing about you can be disgusting", you said with a smile, "You are going through a rough period in your life and if I can help even a little, I will", you said firmly, making sure he understood that you truly meant it. "But you've already done so much. You've given me hope", his eyes trailed down and you instantly cupped his cheek, wanting to look him in the eyes, "and I am willing to give you so much more, my white wolf", you leaned in brushing your lips over Fenrys's cheek.

[marymary-diva17]

The outcast twins (5)

Exiled and disowned was something that was common and unknown in your young life. When you had thought life couldn't get even more harder and heartbreak you had been proven wrong. As now enemies from the past are after you and your family, and now it seems like your family had been broken apart for good. Banished from the place where you were born and made you life for many years. Now it was time to began the new journey and fight in life, in the end will thing still be the same or different.

Jake " so will you all be okay here"

norm " yes will be fine here thanks for staying here to help us get settled"

Jake " anytime buddy"

norm " today didn't go plan as we all thought it will"

Jake " no it didn't"

norm " I'm sorry for what happened Jake you and the kids they are to young for this much pain all together"

Jake " yes I know are you sure you don't want to come with us we can take a few more with us"

norm " I don't know spider still human and he my family I can't just leave him here"

Jake " it okay I understand I will have some words once we get there, I will get on their good side and see if you all can come"

norm " thanks better but please take care of yourself and the kids"Jake had nodded his head the two adults had looked at the three kids, as they looked from where they came. Even the adults were hurting the most from what happened, they all knew this situation will greatly affect three teens.

max " they are so young in life and now what has happened will change them"

Jake " I wish they could stay tense living their old lives in the forest, having a good time but now those times are over they are growing up to fast"

norm " I fear what will happen to them after this all settled their relationship with the other kids, the clan, and everyone else"

max " well with us all here life will move on but slowly but I have a feeling those three and the other children will make us all proud" The three adults had talked a bit more. The group knew after leaving the forest matters will never be the same, as the words that had been spoken by Tsu’tey had greatly affected everyone and the actions of everyone else as well.

The tiro

y/n " we are so far from home now, even do we are near form forest it still not home"

spider " yes we are we have never been this far from home or the clan ... I miss all of them"

lo'ak " I miss neteyam and my sisters it doesn't feel the same without them"

y/n " the ocean not that bad after all but I was hoping everyone will be here with us ... I hope they are all okay after all they said to us"

lo'ak " why do we still care for all of them after what they have done"

y/n " we had been raised right that why we know the great mother has, something planned for us and I can't wait to see what happens"

Jake " hey kids ready to get leaving"

lo'ak " sure dad hey bro we will see you in couple days will you be okay"

spider " I will be good don't worry and we can still call time to time, and hey there has to be someone young here to keep this adults in good health" the three teens had laughed as Jake heard what was said, even he had laughed as well.

y/n " take care spider" you soon hugged spider knowing it will be a long time until, you see him for some time.

spider " you two as well and hey make some new friends so us, if we are going to make a whole new life here"

lo'ak " deal and you do the same for us as well" The group had hugged one last time before the twins left with Jake.

Hours later

Jake " we are here kids look" the twins soon spotted a village coming close, a smile had grown on your face the village looked amazing, and the whole ocean and everything was beautiful. Soon the group had been spotted by a group of navi below them and soon enough a horn had been blown as well.

Jake " don't worry everything will be alright" you and lo'ak nodded your heads to Jake words, soon circling around and soon landing on the sandy ground.

Jake " hello we mean no harm" you and your brother soon follow after Jake as he was walking towards the group of navi that came to see them or greet them.

y/n " ........" the father and twins had stopped walking as the crowd start surrounded them, looking at the new arrivals that just came here. Soon two boys had come towards the front you and lo'ak greet them, and they seem to do the same kinda of.

lo'ak " well it seems like we made a good impression" soon you and lo'ak looked around, but you brother stopped looking as you soon looked where he stare had been placed on. Soon a teenage girl had arrived at the inland on one ocean creatures.

lo'ak " ......"

y/n " I think someone already like our new home" you had giggle getting lo'ak attention.

aonung " they are kinda of weird"

rotxo " look at their baby tails"

tsireya " aonung rotxo be nice"

lo'ak " hey" lo'ak had give the girl a what up head movement which made the girl laugh and giggle, as you shake your head looking around when you felt someone walk around you. Soon enough you had spotted a teen boy looking at you, he seem to be near neteaym age or year younger.

y/n " hello"

???? " hello"

tsireya " Sayoa there you are" the boy had smirked towards you before he walked off to join the girl and other two teen boys.

lo'ak " look like you found something good to" you had once again laugh as you father look back at you two, and smile a bit but soon enough a call had been heard as three creatures fly over you three. the one who was the leader had land first and soon got off the creature's, soon walking back onto the shore.

Jake " tonowari I see you"

tonowari " i see you Jake sully but why have you and two young ones come here" Before your dad could say anything ronal had showed up as well.

Jake " I and my kids along with some friends of ours that stayed a bir from here have come here seeking uturu, the sky people are back and mean to do harm"

ronal " uturu"

Jake " yes please for my kids and others with me please"

tonowari " we have heard about this war and I see that scar, I been told of the rumors of your relationship with olo'eytahn tsutey and neytiri ... it a sad new"

Jake " yes it has become sad news and rest of my family an land stayed behind"

ronal " why if enemies have come back"

Jake " as I and my kids along with everyone else in our group has been exiled and disowned"

ronal " you have children with you"

Jake " yes it seems like exiled and banished but fallen on them as well, for things that have been out of their control" whispers had been heard as the crowd was looking, they all seem to hate the idea of kids being exiled.

ronal " these are just children it seems like they have inherited your blood in them" ronal was looking at your hands and soon at your brother.

ronal " other will say they have demon blood in them"

Jake " yes I was one sky people but u have given up my old body and adapt, we can adapt myself and my kids along with the others"

y/n " we can adapt that is true"

lo'ak " yes"

tonowari " we gave heard about your great tales of becoming toruk makto and warning you had tried to make, that had fallen on death ears ... I hope you can help us when the time comes"

Jake " yes I can" tonowari and ronal had looked at each other and seem to be having a silent conversation, with each other soon enough they came up with a decision.

tonowari " you and your children can stay here we have some emptied homes, but you most learn our ways"

Jake " yes thank you"

tonowari " I wish to hear more about your and your family here, along with the rest of this group"

Jake " yes that can happen"

tonowari " my three sons and daughter will teach your kids the way" tonowari and looked towards the group of teens from earlier.

aonung " father why ...."

tonowari " it been decided my brothers and sister we will welcome Jake and his children into our clan, we will help them adapt as they and we might learn something from them as well" it was done the family of three had been given refugee in the clan, and it seems like they had been welcome so far.

tsireya " here let me help you move you stuff into you new home and show you around"

sayoa " I will help as well sister"

rotxo " don't forget us as well"

Jake " thank you" the family had been take to their new home.

tisreya " this is your new home we will let you all get unpacked and settled we will start lessons tomorrow"

y/n " thank you" the teens soon left after they place the stuff into the home, soon the family of three had gotten everything set up for their new home. Once everything was up it was night time, loak had went together some fire wood that will be used for cooking and heat. While you helped Jake make dinner.

Jake “ you are a brave girl”

y/n “ how I’m brave girl day I was not able to defend our home, and now we lost the one place we love so much”

Jake “ you are brave for being here my dear and always making sure I and your brother are okay, and being there for everyone else speak up as well”

y/n “ dad you will always be the mighty toruk makto to me” Jake had smiled soon kissing your forehead, making you smile as you finished helping make dinner. Loak had came back and started a fire for cooking. The tiro had ate dinner this was not their first time having dinner, as a family of three but this time time it hurts more then usual as you all were no longer at home but in a new place that was the unknown.

Jake “ calling to home is anyone there” Jake was trying to call home tree with the help of max, and others to see how the children back there were doing. Nothing was working call signs that had been made between families didn’t work and either did the children.

Jake “ I understand where you all are coming from and I’m sorry, I hope one day we can meet again but I understand if you wish to never see us again… but know we will do everything to defend our …. Your home if you ever need help just call” Jake soon ended the call and the signal as well had been destroyed. Jake looked at twins loak was showing no emotions,but you were crying. Jake and loak soon hugged you the hopes of everything going back to normal, was becoming a dream to you maybe one day you will see the forests once again if you kept on dreaming and believe maybe some parts of life will be the same again or changed forever.

[hugmeimtouchdeprived]

Ghost!Johnny Original drabble

Thought I'd post the original drabble that I posted a couple months ago but deleted it for reasons.

But I kinda like it, so posting it again! It was just the rough idea for the fic and the story will still be changing in the future.

Content warning: MW3 (2023) major spoilers

Original drabble | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

She always takes the same train to work and back. Maybe she works at some library or bookstore.

A normal life. Boring, even, she oftentimes thinks to herself. Going about her routine, day in and day out, nothing ever changes. Doesn't even have the time to hang out with family or friends as much as she used to. Maybe something happened, maybe she doesn't even want to be around people right now.

Until weird things start happening around her, everywhere it goes.

It starts at the train station. Feelings of being watched. But it's busy during the weekdays, there's a lot of people around.

Looking around, that's all she sees. People minding their own business, going about their day. She thinks she sees a dark figure in the corner of her eye, staring eight at her, but when she turns to look, it's gone. Maybe she's just being paranoid.

But it happens again a few days later. And the day after that. And soon it's an everyday occurrence, both in the morning while waiting for her train and in the evening, when she arrives on the platform and leaves the station.

And soon, it's not just the train station, it's happening at work. The feeling of someone staring at her, a cold shiver up her spine. Shadows in the corner of her eye, disappearing when she turns to look. Books falling from shelves randomly when nobody's around. The pen she left on her desk in the backroom? She, eventually, finds it on the floor under the couch on the other side of the room.

And then, blah blah blah, weird shit keeps happening, and she keeps coming up with excuses for it.

It starts happening in her home. Things aren't where she's sure she placed them; the kitchen sink keeps turning on. A dark figure following her around. She sees it when she wakes up in the middle of the night, staring at her from the corner until she rubs her eyes and it's gone. In the bathroom mirror while she's showering. Hell, it's in every reflective surface; windows, the TV when she turns it off and the screen turns black.

Ok, maybe there is something odd going on here.

But she's not scared. Maybe she should be, and it does spook her in the beginning. I mean, who wouldn't gasp and jump a bit when they're taking a nice, relaxing shower, and suddenly see someone staring at them for a split second?

But she gets used to it. It becomes her new norm, in a way. The thing - she doesn't know what it is, and calling it a ghost doesn't feel right, even if that's probably exactly what it is- never does any harm, after all. It follows her to work and back, watches her from dark corners. Sometimes it might throw down a book, or some papers from her desk. Once she watched her mug slowly move, across the kitchen counter, as if being pushed, and shatter on the floor before she could catch it. She scolded the air quite harshly as she cleaned up the mess. It never happened again after that. (Or maybe it does happen, when she brings home a date or just some friend who happens to be a guy...)

Other than what she figured out were supposed to be some sort of pranks, or maybe just trying to get her attention, the thing was harmless. She starts talking to it, as if to another person. Just telling it about her day, complaining about that one coworker who just won't leave her alone and always finds reasons to scold her. Sometimes she might talk about the cute guy who came in at work and flirted with her - she doesn't see the shadow for the rest of the day. Huh, maybe she said something it didn't like, or it got upset when she turned off the TV.

And then it becomes clearer. In a literal sense, that is, it doesn't clear up her confusion at all.

As the weeks and months pass, the dark shadow starts to slowly resemble a human being. It's blurry, and she still can't catch a proper look at it, but she swears on her life it's starting to look more and more like a human man. A tall one, at that. Sure, it was tall before, towering behind her in her reflection before she blinks, but the more human it looks, the more its - his? - size shocks her, somehow. And not only is he tall, he's muscular, and looks almost as if he's wearing some sort of military gear. She swears she can sometimes see a glimpse of blood running down the side of his head and neck.

Weeks and months pass by. At least it's making her life more interesting, that's what she wanted, right? But the questions are endless in her mind. Who is he? Why is he following her, making himself at home in her apartment? Even more morbid questions, like how did he die, was it painful, was it quick, what does being dead feel like?

And she does try asking him sometimes, trying to get to know more about her new "roommate", but he never indulges her. Won't even tell her his name, although she's not sure if it's because he doesn't want to, or because he simply can't. (After she asks, in the bathroom of all places, a bar of soap falls onto the floor.)

And that's just how things go in her life now, apparently. Sometimes she thinks she might just have lost her mind, that she's imagining things. I mean, there's no way she's being haunted by some ghost, she doesn't even believe in that kind of stuff, or at the very least is a bit skeptical.

Not that she can keep denying the reality of it for long, it feels too real to be just a figment of her imagination. So she accepts it as a part of her life now. Not that she could do anything about it, anyway; she tried begging and pleading for him to just leave her alone in the beginning. He left her alone for all of two days before coming back.

Is she's gone from home for a long time, maybe visiting her family for the holidays or going on a little trip with a friend?

She'll come back to her flat, and to say the place is a mess is an understatement. Nothing seems to be broken, thankfully, but her clothes have been thrown onto the floor, same with any pens, papers and such that were on her desk, the candle in the living room has been knocked over. Brat, she thinks to herself as she spends the rest of the day cleaning it all up.

And then there's that one night. She wakes up and it's still dark and quiet outside. It takes a moment for her to realize in her half-asleep state that something's off, and even longer to realize just what it is.

The unmistakable weight of another human being lying behind her in the bed, their arm thrown over her waist, chest pressed up against her back.

The panic settles in slow. She doesn't dare turn around and look; this is just a dream, right? A nightmare, maybe. But it's cold, both the air around her and the person behind her.

She squeezes her eyes shut tight as she considers her next move. She could probably bolt, jump out of bed and run out. Grab her phone from the nightstand if she can, find help. She could try and fight them, but who knows if they're armed or not. Going back to sleep and pretending everything's fine is not an option.

So she chooses to do possible the dumbest thing she can in the moment. She's going to turn around, carefully, to see just who's in the bed with her. It takes her a moment to calm her breath and prepare to possibly run or fight the intruder.

She turns slowly, just in case the person is asleep and she can avoid waking them.

She turns, and there's no one there. The cold weight disappears into thin air, like it was never there. Her eyes close and she takes a deep breath, telling herself it was some fucked up dream that just felt too real. She has been stressed out lately, more so than usual, so it's not that out of the question that it would start affecting her in different ways. She promptly chooses to ignore the still cold to the touch indentation on the mattress beside her. It was just a dream, after all. Right?

Thank you for reading!🌷

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

Not going to lie guys I was so excited about this project but when I sat down to actually write it I struggled sooo much. So here it is Part 1, it’s short, it’s setting the scene, it is what it is

Pairings: Jake Kiszka X Danny Wagner *slash for the baes

Warnings and tags: 18+ ONLY!! sorry minors disperse! Adult themes including: insecurity, mention of body dismorphia (very breif), mentions of death of a loved one, mentions of depression, Dad Jake AU, uncle Danny AU (I am not using Danny’s irl sister as inspiration for this, the character referred to here is completely made up), flirting, slow burn

Word count: 3.7k

Jake never imagined his life would end up the definition of suburbia. The days came and went one after the other in a blur of cut-and-dry: school, work, practice, dinner, bed, and repeat. He loved his life, he loved his home, he loved his daughter, but he never really knew what he was missing until life brought him the unexpected.

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Another morning went by after Jake packed a lunch for his daughter and got her ready for school.

“Daddy?” Her little voice called out from the backseat as they waited in line at the drop off. The school was only a couple of blocks away but Jake preferred to drive her himself rather than let her take the bus at such a young age- he could be a little overprotective sometimes.

“Yes darling?” He replied, looking through the rear view mirror to catch a glimpse at her as she spoke.

“Are you coming to my graduation?” She asked, carefully anouncuating ‘graduation’ after they had spent some time practicing on it together.

“Of course I am. You only graduate kindergarten once”.

“Did you graduate kindergarten?”

“I did, a long time ago” Jake chuckled. She was at the stage where everything was a question that led to another question, but rather than being annoyed by it he liked to indulge her a little sometimes.

“Did Mommy graduate kindergarten?”

“She did, when she was just a little girl like you” he answered her again, only this time he quietly hoped this was the end of her string of questioning for now.

When she was younger she never seemed to be bothered about being raised by Jake alone. Having been too little to really remember much about her mother or her passing. It wasn’t until she’d started school last year that she heard other children talking about their daddies and mommies that she started to realize their home life wasn’t exactly the norm.

It was a tough conversation for him to have with her, still believing she was too innocent to have to grasp the concept of death. But when she’d randomly asked one day after school why she didn’t have a mommy, he knew he had to tell her that she did and she was loved so incredibly much, but her mommy just wasn’t here with them anymore.

To make up for that Jake tried to give his daughter as much love and attention as possible. Although even if he’d never admit it, he was exhausted, wearing himself thin with both solo-parenting and working on running the foundation his wife had left him in charge of.

After another successful drop off at the elementary school, Jake finished getting himself ready for the day. Work was just busy enough to keep himself sufficiently occupied, powering through lunch so he could leave early.

Today was the first day of practice with the pee-wee soccer team Jake had volunteered to coach. Sure that was just another responsibility to juggle on his plate, but Jake was actually excited to get onto the field again- even if it was just teaching a bunch of 5-7 year old girls how to kick a ball.

“Did you see that!” Luna gleefully exclaimed as she turned to make sure Jake had seen her kick the ball into her first goal.

“I did! Good job” he smiled back at her, but his grin slowly faded when out in the distance behind her he saw a figure sitting on one of the bleachers. He narrowed his eyes, calling a few of the girls back over and making sure all the little ones were accounted for before he approached.

“Excuse me, you can’t smoke on the field”.

“Oh shit, my bad” the unknown man pressed the cherry of his cigarette into the metal of the bleacher next to him.

Jake crossed his arms across his chest, looking him up and down with an unamused glare. He was wearing a pair of worn in black jeans with a cut up black t-shirt that looked like it barely fit him. “Can I ask what you’re doing here?”

“I’m watching my niece practice” he replied with a casual sideways smile, returning the same up and down look to Jake in his athletic shirt and sweatpants combo he’d just been awarded.

Jake was about to open his mouth again to question him further but one of the kids excitedly yelled from behind him “Uncle Danny!”

Danny hopped off the steps he’d been leaning on and bent at the knees, squatting with his arms held open for a hug. “Hi little miss soccer pro!” He praised her as he picked her up and spun her around, “did you miss me?”

“I missed you!” She squealed as he kissed at her rosy cheeks and gently let her down. “Coach Jake, this is my uncle Danny. I haven’t seen him since Christmas!”

“Is that so?” Jake replied, still deciding if he should give her parents a call and make sure this was okay.

Danny could sense Jake’s reservations and offered with the same smile he’d had since Jake approached, his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you coach”.

Jake took his hand, expecting the simple embrace to be stiff, but Danny didn’t put any strength in his grasp as their hands closed together. “I’m going to be walking Emma home after practices if that’s okay with you”.

Even without having the responsibility of being in charge of all the girls on his soccer team, Jake’s over protective tendencies extended past just his own daughter Luna to Emma specifically. She lived only a block over in their small tight knit suburb and he’d met her parents at a PTA meeting at the start of the school year.

Realizing how close they lived, they started scheduling play dates at the park next to the field between Luna and Emma who easily became best friends. As quickly as Jake announced at a later meeting that he’d be volunteering to coach soccer to the kids, Emma was signed up. Jake had picked them both up from school and got them situated with some snacks before heading out to the field. He’d expected one of her parents would pick her up from his place afterwards, having never heard of an uncle being in the picture.

“Alright, well practice is over in about ten minutes” Jake decided to allow it for now since Emma had been so excited to see him, and guided the girls back over to the others who were still enthusiasticly kicking balls around.

Soon after the other parents started showing up to collect their kids one by one until the only two left were his and Emma. “Luna, do you want to walk Emma home today?” Jake asked, getting no complaint from the girls as they gathered up their things.

“Can I carry something for you?” Danny offered once he’d realized Jake was dead set on following them back to Emma’s parents house, just to be safe. He didn’t mind, in fact he found it quite charming that Jake was so diligent in monitoring the safety of his little team.

Jake was carrying his backpack on one shoulder, full of supplies like a first aid kit, some extra bottles of water in case any of the parents forgot to send their kid with some, and a list of emergency contacts for all the kids in the event something were to happen- otherwise he’d come prepared. Additionally, he had a net full of soccer balls slung over the other shoulder. Neither bag was very heavy, but his hands were full and he’d already made the trip with all of it once when they were heading out to the field earlier.

Before Jake could even get out an ‘I’m fine, thanks’ Danny was already tugging on the drawstring of the bag holding the balls, taking it from Jake’s hand and tossing it over his shoulder instead.

“She’s yours?” Danny questioned next, him and Jake both attentively watching the two girls holding hands on the sidewalk in front of them. Jake nod his head, still reserved towards conversing too much with this random guy who’d interrupted his first practice.

Despite Jake’s initial observation of Danny, leaning on the bleachers in his dark clothes with a cigarette perched uncaringly between his middle and pointer finger- the picture of nothing but a delinquent punk, he actually seemed pretty harmless.

“She’s cute, must get that from her mom”.

Jake shot him a glaring look not sure which rattled him more, the mention of Luna's mom by some stranger, or the fact that Danny had just offhandedly insulted him.

Danny chuckled again, never once feeling intimidated by Jake or his judgmental first impressions. “I mean, she couldn’t have gotten it from you, because you’re way too charming to be considered just cute”.

Taking into account how he was still dressed- not to impress that was, and that his windblown hair surely had strands sticking up every which way out of the loose knot at the base of his neck, Jake wasn’t sure how to respond. Perhaps even his second impression was wrong, maybe Danny was going to be a problem.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward” the lighthearted tone left Danny’s voice, afraid he might have come on a little strong. “My sister told me about the hot single dad teaching Emma soccer today. I had to come out to see it for myself”.

Instead of lingering on the offense turned compliment Jake focused on the reveal that he was Emma’s mom’s brother. With a closer look it made sense. They both had similar facial features, Danny’s were just more chiseled and defined. He was a handsome guy Jake had to admit, but he didn’t let that distract him from the fact that Danny seemed to have this aura of youthful irresponsibility.

Sure Danny might be a good uncle, Emma certainly was enthused to see him, but coming from someone who tended to take things into his own hands Jake almost always doubted the competence of others until proven otherwise.

Saving him from having to come up with a response to that statement, they reached Emma’s house just as the sun was starting to set behind the trees in the distance. He and Luna would have to hurry so they could make it home before night cast its cloak of darkness over the suburb’s quiet late evening streets.

Jake waited until Emma’s parents met them at the door, waving over at them with smiles on their faces as their little one started spilling about her day, how fun practice was, and of course the surprise visit from Uncle Danny. Her dad ushered her along to the kitchen where dinner waited, leaving the rest of them on the porch to talk.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you who was picking her up, I didn’t know he was going to be staying with us until just this afternoon” Emma’s mom apologized, turning to her brother with a cocked eyebrow and her hands on her hips. Obviously she was a little irritated at the situation, but something about her tone gave Jake the impression this was not a one time happening.

“It’s alright, I just wanted to make sure she got home safe” Jake responded, catching a small scoff from Danny who stood by himself against a banister. “Next practice is Saturday afternoon, parents are free to join”.

“Absolutely we will be there! Thanks for all the help by the way, it’s been a madhouse at the firm these past few weeks feels like we’re getting cases by the truckload”.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help, and Luna is always thrilled to play with Emma after school”.

“Yeah, Emma is my best friend!” Luna chimed in, making the two parents chuckle.

“Well, I better be getting her home, we still need to eat dinner ourselves and wash up”. Jake excused himself, looking over his shoulder once as he reclaimed his bag of soccer balls at the edge of the yard to see Danny and his sister deep in conversation together on the porch. Danny had his arms crossed over his chest while she shook her head and closed the front door behind her, then Danny pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and disappeared into the open garage.

After getting Luna settled in bed Jake wind down for the night with his own hot shower. He stood in front of the foggy bathroom mirror in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, the details of his figure coming more and more into focus as the stream from the shower started to clear.

Staring at his reflection wasn’t something he’d normally do, but he couldn’t get the comment Danny had made on their walk out of his head. He studied the face that stared back at him, feeling a little dysmorphic about all the changes he saw in himself.

Confidence was always a difficult concept for him to grasp. On one hand he knew he was relatively attractive so that he wasn’t bothered by. On the other hand however, he realized how the more he dedicated himself to parenting and work the less time he spent on maintaining himself.

He remembered watching hours of YouTube videos about how to do his daughter's hair once she started school, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a haircut. Eating well balanced meals was important for him when he had Luna at home for dinner, but when it came to his own lunchtime he opted more for ease, or sometimes even skipped it all together if he was too busy. When he was a teenager it worked, but now that he was an adult he could tell he was filling out a little and it was becoming more of a chore to stay healthy.

Across his chest, on full display in his nakedness, Jake’s eyes caught his wedding band. White gold secured around his neck with a simple silver chain. He’d taken it from his finger over a year ago but couldn’t bring himself to leave it sitting in a drawer somewhere. So instead he slid the ring onto the necklace and it had been there ever since. Its weight against his heart was a comfort in the times when he felt the most alone.

His late wife’s passing was something he had time to prepare himself for. She knew she was sick before her symptoms even started. The genetic mutation apparent in her blood from the first test she was brave enough to take. That didn’t make losing her any easier though. Depression didn’t even seem to cover the raging storm of emotions he felt when she was gone, but he couldn’t even let himself get lost for too long because now he was all little Luna had.

As time went on things got better. Jake still had that sting from the hole left in his heart, but now it was more of a dull burn than a constant pull. Even three years later, he felt like he was living with her ghost. He saw her everywhere, from the photos he still had placed around the house, to her large glossy white piano sitting hauntingly in the bay window, most of all to the image of her in their daughter.

The ringing of his cell phone from where he’d tossed it onto his bed earlier pulled Jake out of his reflective moment, and he flicked the lights to the bathroom off on his way out.

“How’d practice go?” Josh asked the moment Jake slid the button over to answer.

Jake hit the speaker button next and put the phone back down, speaking up as he turned to gather something to sleep in out of his dresser. “It went well”.

“Did my little LuLu score any goals?”

“I mean she kicked a ball into the net, but they’re not exactly playing soccer yet” Jake snarkily replied before shoving his head through a shirt, trapping his still dripping hair against his back before pulling it out and running the towel through once more.

“I still can’t believe you agreed to coach, what are you going to do if she gets hurt?”

“Soccer is a low contact sport. Just because you got banned from the league for kicking other kids does not mean I’m letting the kids on my team run wild”.

Josh was laughing on the other end of the phone, remembering when they were kids themselves how badly Jake wanted to go to soccer tryouts. Their parents had made them both go even though he really didn’t want to. “Mom let me join theater after that so it was a win for me”.

“Hey, can I tell you something and you not blow it out of proportion?” Jake asked once the laughter died down.

“I’ll try my best, no promises”.

Jake switched off all his bedroom lights next, and picked up the phone before crawling into bed. He hoped talking to his twin about the strange encounter would help him go to sleep and not lay awake over analyzing it. “I think I might’ve gotten hit on today”.

“I told you she was into you!” Josh immediately started going off about one of the girls that worked at Jake’s office. A girl he’d only met once and ever since had hounded Jake about asking her out. She was a sweet girl, but he was technically her boss so he just couldn’t see himself crossing any professional boundaries he’d set to date her.

“No not at work” Jake corrected, though he didn’t offer much more information either.

“On the field?” The animation in Josh’s voice only grew as he tried to piece together what Jake was saying. “You got hit on while coaching soccer? Wow, if I’d known there was more game out there than just scoring goals then I would’ve been onboard with this a lot sooner”.

“Shut up, I hate that you’re always trying to pimp me out. I have enough going on right now to throw dating into the mix”. That was always his excuse when Josh would trick him into double dates or try to give him some random person's number. It was true, Jake didn’t have the time to meet people which is probably why he hadn’t. Underneath that though, Jake worried if he was even ready to be with anyone else yet.

“I just want you to be happy brother” Josh sighed, the tone of the late night phone call turning more serious than he’d originally intended. “You can make time for your own happiness, that isn’t selfish you know”.

“I am happy” Jake tried to argue even though there was a little part of him that knew Josh was right. “Luna makes me happier than anything on this Earth”.

“And that’s beautiful. That child has more love coming at her everyday, but I’m talking about a different kind of love” Josh, ever the wise and thoughtful one, countered.

“I think before we start talking about being in love again I need to meet someone I’m actually interested in first”.

Jake had tried before to get himself back out there. Josh of course was always thrilled to babysit his favorite niece so that his brother could attempt a couple of dates- most of which he had selected for him. They were nice, Josh had good taste in just about everything even including when he played matchmaking, but sadly each date Jake left feeling more hollow and alone than he did going in.

He was missing that spark he felt before. The intensity that started as attraction and built deep within himself to pure adoration for his partner. No one had ever come close to comparing.

“Okay, and what about today stuck out to you?” Josh pushed him, knowing that Jake didn’t bring it up for no reason. He wanted his input. “Are you interested in the person who hit on you today?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know how I felt about it”. Jake groaned, running his hand across his face as he stared up at his bedroom ceiling contemplating why he was getting so frustrated.

“Sounds to me like you know, you just don’t want to admit it”.

Again, Josh was probably right. Jake wasn’t exactly vexed about Danny’s backward as it was compliment. If he had been then he could easily brush it off and forget about it. What he wasn’t admitting to himself was that for once someone had caught him off guard, and he’d kind of liked the shock it had given him.

The reason he wasn’t allowing himself to enjoy it though was because he had no idea who Danny was. For all he knew Danny could’ve just been fucking with him. In Jake’s mind it made more sense that Danny would think it was funny to flirt with the ‘hot single dad’ rather than be actually interested in him.

“I don’t know Josh. I kind of just want to forget about it and go to bed”. He’d had no luck in talking through this. In fact he was even more worked up now than he’d been earlier, playing out the whole scenario in his head in ways that only led to him looking like an idiot. He couldn’t risk it.

“Alright. Just try not to close yourself off, you never know who life is going to bring you when you’re least expecting it”. Josh sounded like he wanted to say more, he could probably chat Jake’s ear off for at least another good hour, but he knew it was getting late and his brother was on a tight schedule with it being a school night.

The two said their good nights and Jake rolled over, tucking his hand underneath his pillow and closed his eyes. Though he’d had a good time with the kids, he was glad today was finally over with. Both his mind and body were tired enough to pass out within minutes.

He was sure by tomorrow he’d be feeling normal again. Just another day cut-and-dry.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Special thanks to @kultavalo for listening to me complain about writing this

Tags: @lyndz2names @gracev0609 @lipstickitty @sanguinebats

[minecraftbookshelf]

For the marriage of the state au, what was the empires citizens reactions to the war/marriage (if they were affected by it)

I'm so sorry for the long wait! RL happened but here we go!

Since you didn't specify, I'm going to talk about both the marriages that get arranged XD

For Joel and Lizzie, the relevant empires were Mezalea and the Ocean Empire.

For the Oceanic citizens, they didn't think much of it tbh. In the context of the original situation, it was an incredibly normal situation of "enemy has been conquered, ruler gets a harem member out of it." And then later, when Joel got promoted to consort, they had gotten used to him by then and honestly, several of the sea folk were incredibly invested in the relationship. It was the hottest gossip in the most positive way. They love their god-queen and her weird, air-breathing husband.

The Mezaleans had a much less positive view of it for a very long time. Joel was a favorite to the people and so for them it was "our kingdom was invaded and conquered and they stole one of our princes." They were eventually won over but it took a few hundred years. There was some resentment up until a generation or so before the events of the Flower Husbands arc, long after Mezalea was free again.

In the Current Day...

Rivendell as a whole is Very Suspicious of the situation. Mostly of the whole "Xornoth sending Scott away" element. Xornoth may be fairly popular by this point but it doesn't mean people have forgotten the whole Champion of Exor thing. So there's quite a bit of side-eyeing going on. A few of the noble families are feeling very miffed because they were basically competing to get him married into one of them. There's also some judgement because while Scott is technically an adult and old enough to get married he's young enough its questionable. Elves don't usually marry young, Xornoth was a couple decades older than Scott is now when they were married and even that was unusually young. The norm is what would be the equivalent of early-mid-thirties, after both parties have had time to build their skills and qualify themselves as good partners. Xornoth and Scott are both getting married in the equivalent of their early twenties instead.

The Swamp as a whole are pretty suspicious of outsiders, so they are wary. They're a bit defensive, both of their situation as a whole, and their somewhat unimpressive god-ruler. ( and not always in a good way) Tensions with Mythland are also high, and have been for centuries, though it has been ramping up lately so everyone is on edge. And Rivendell is a well-known ally of Mythland. Several people are hoping that Jimmy will at least expand to a harem with some "proper partners" soon. There's also a significant party who are throwing themselves into welcoming the Codfather's new husband. It's a very mixed bag, mostly divided into extremes.

[xxrainshadowsxx]

New Elite Chapter 4

For the next couple of weeks, things were quiet. Not much of your daily life changed, save for the fact that you had to pin your hair up every time you left the house now. But there were no more balls, and no men to call on you.

According to your mother, it wasn’t a cause for worry… yet. Apparently, it wasn’t uncommon for men to wait a few weeks, or even until a second event, to call on someone. It was the first sign of courtship after all, and most men needed to be sure that was a step they wanted to take before making so bold of a move. However, if a second event or a couple months passed and you heard nothing, then there was trouble.

Two weeks to the day after the ball, you were sitting with your needlework with your mother in the drawing room when Nellie announced herself, carrying a bouquet of lilies. “These just arrived for you, miss,” she explained excitedly. Before you could even process her words, your mother was out of her seat, the same hungry look she had at the ball back on her face.

“See if there’s a note,” she demanded of you, as you were still trying to set down your needlework. You attempt to hasten, though you’re still quite a bit perturbed, as you look through the flowers for a card of some sort.

Eventually, you find something nestled in the middle of the bunch. Being mindful not to disturb the lilies, you pull out the card and read it aloud.

“‘I hope I’ve been on your mind as frequently as you’ve been on mine. I should like to see you tomorrow and will call on you in the afternoon.”’

“Well? Who is it from?” your mother pesters over your shoulder.

“Um… it doesn’t say,” you mutter, which isn’t a lie, but you’re also glad you’re facing away from your mother at the moment, for you know your face has gone white as a sheet. The card might not bear a physical signature, but you instantly recognized the handwriting as belonging to Mr. Onceler.

You weren’t going to reveal that information, however. She knew nothing of the note you received from him and you planned to keep it that way. You’d have to feign ignorance until he showed up at your doorstep tomorrow.

Your mother peers over your shoulder, like she can’t believe the note isn’t signed, then turns to poor Nellie. “And the delivery man said nothing about who it’s from?” she asks, completely aghast.

Nellie confirms that the delivery only stressed that you were to be the recipient. “A fine game, to leave us all guessing!” your mother declares. “If this is indeed from young Mr. Hunte, he had better come prepared with an explanation.”

His last name would be explanation enough for you, you think waspishly. It’s a bit childish, you know, to be this harsh on your mother, but you also know you’re correct. The name of Hunte would be enough for your mother to forgive Thomas of manners as dreadful as she judged Mr. Onceler’s to be.

Oh, you can picture her face now when he shows up tomorrow. It might be enough to have her faint in the entryway.

“Nellie, can you be a dear and get these into a vase and put them in my room?” you ask her with a meaningful look, making your mother’s mouth twist a bit. Mother didn’t like it when you were overly friendly with the staff, but Nellie is the only real friend and confidante you have. 

“Of course, miss,” she says, and based on the look she gives you in return, you knew she figured out exactly who those flowers were from, and had every intention of discussing it with you later.

When she leaves, your mother rounds on you and grills you about how you’re supposed to behave on outings, and spends an equal amount of time bemoaning that chaperones have largely gone out of fashion in America. You’d never be caught alone with a man, of course, but unlike in England, as long as you were in a public place, it was no longer the norm to have someone follow you around the whole time unless they were invited. You couldn’t say you were upset about that. Mr. Hunte would probably have invited your mother to join you. You’re fairly confident Mr. Onceler won’t.

When you finally manage to get away and make it back to your bedchamber, Nellie is waiting for you. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” she cautions. “Your mother’s patience should not be tested for long, you know this. The longer you keep this secret relationship from her–”

“It’s not a secret relationship!” you cut her off hastily. “I don’t have any sort of relationship with Mr. Onceler, nor do I want one. If there’s any interest, it’s entirely one-sided. I might have to agree to a few things for the sake of being polite, but I still have some power afforded to me. My mother would never agree to a courtship. And if he attempted to circumvent her and ask me directly, I am perfectly within my rights to refuse. And I shall be making my lack of interest quite plain tomorrow.”

Nellie doesn’t look completely convinced. “Forgive me for saying, miss, but I don’t think you’re as disinterested as you would like to believe. He’s the only gentleman you’ve spoken of by name since your debutante.”

You were about to protest that you’d brought up Mr. Hunte, but as you thought more about it, you realized you hadn’t. It had always been your mother who was the first to speak of him, and you never mentioned him in private with Nellie. Her brutal honesty made you squirm uncomfortably. “He… made an impression on me,” you admit haltingly. “I won’t deny that. However, it wasn’t necessarily a good impression. He’s very uncouth, rude even. And as I’ve said before, Mother would never allow it even if I was interested. He’s New Money.”

“Women have more choice than they have in years past,” Nellie muses as she begins turning off the lamps. “If you speak with her now, she might be willing to agree on an engagement down the line.”

You’re shaking your head before she even finishes speaking. “She’s far too set in her ways for that. She’d never agree. And you’re missing the main point, Nellie. I don’t fancy him. I’m not delusional enough to believe I’ll get to marry someone I love, but I would prefer to at least like the man. Mr. Onceler does not fill that particular requirement,” you huff with an air of finality. You were very much inclined to finish speaking of Mr. Onceler for the night.

“All right, miss. Whatever you say.” Nellie backs off, although you can tell that despite your stubbornness, you still haven’t fully convinced her just yet. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting enough sleep, in an attempt to prepare for what was sure to be a maelstrom of a day on the morrow.

Sure enough, your mother has Nellie wake you earlier than usual so you can sit through the tedious journey of getting your hair both curled and neatly pinned up. Today took even longer than usual, since your hair had to be pinned into a hat. You didn’t know how your mother managed this every day. The pins plus the hat pulled your hair so tight you were sure you’d have a headache before the day’s end. 

Getting you ready took most of the morning. The card didn’t specify at what time you should be expecting company, it just vaguely mentioned ‘in the afternoon.’ That potentially left a few hours of nothing to do but wait.

You would have preferred to spend the time reading to calm your nerves, but now that you were grown, your mother seemed to think that wasn’t an acceptable use of your time. You were left with one of two options: either do your needlework, which you’d become sick to death of, or practice piano. Piano won wholeheartedly.

At two o’clock on the dot, the doorbell rings, and you immediately cease your playing to join your mother in the drawing room as Nellie runs to get the door. You hold your breath, waiting to see if your mother lets hell break loose.

If your steadily growing nerves are evident on your face, your mother thankfully doesn’t comment on them. You’ve chosen a seat that faces away from the entrance of the room, but as the seconds pass, you can hear two sets of footsteps coming down the hall. Ready or not, this was about to happen.

“Ma’am?” Nellie’s voice comes from behind you, and you can nearly feel your heartbeat stop. “There’s a Mr. Onceler here to see you.”

Your mother’s reaction almost makes this whole situation worth it. Almost. Her face changes from that hopeful, hungry look she sported at the ball to the color of beets faster than turning a light on or off. You can see all of her hopes and dreams for you going up in smoke in her eyes.

But if there was one thing your mother knew how to do, it was keep her manners, even if her world had been turned upside-down. She knows he’s just around the corner and can hear every word being said. “Of course,” she says, though she doesn’t bother to keep the ice out of her tone. She might keep her manners, but that didn’t mean she had to pretend to be happy with the situation. She was a master of toeing the line of societal niceties and true disdain.

But for now, it’s your turn to also play a part, and convince her that his arrival was a surprise to you as well. You crane your neck to look behind you just in time to see him enter the room. He removes his hat and makes a short bow to the two of you, but when he stands, he has a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that immediately puts you on your guard.

“Good afternoon,” he murmurs, looking directly at you. “I hope I’m not causing too much of a wrench in your plans for the day with my visit.”

You wait for your mother to answer, but it’s abundantly clear he’s not speaking to her. You glance at her out of the corner of your eye and find she’s not at all happy about being ignored; her gaze has narrowed to a hard glint. It does, however, leave the burden of answering him on you. “Not at all, sir,” you say coolly, attempting to convey your indifference in your tone.

If he notices, he’s not put off in the slightest. “Then I was wondering if you might accompany me for a stroll around Central Park?” There it was. Your mother was going to be utterly livid.

However, this was your chance to end things before they had an opportunity to begin. You didn’t want him to scare away any other potential matches. “Of course,” you say haltingly as you grab your wrap.

Your preparation from earlier that day means there’s little you can do to stall leaving. With one last breath, you turn to face him. He holds his arm out to you, and you place your hand in the crook of his elbow. You get in a hasty goodbye to your mother, then he’s whisking you out the door.

Your house isn’t far from Central Park, though there are still busy streets to traverse. New York was nothing if not alive, and you knew for certain someone was bound to see the two of you today, and rumors that he was officially courting you were going to be inevitable. Your mother was going to be furious.

You’re silent until you actually reach the park. You certainly weren’t going to speak first, and he seemed to have no interest in doing so either. It’s only when you begin walking the long path through the flora does he finally open his mouth. “I trust you received the flowers I sent?”

You loathed that ever-constant smirk he was wearing. Insufferable man. “They were lovely,” you say, though you allow no emotion, not even confusion, to creep into your tone. “I’m assuming you won’t tell me why you sent them?” you presume, allowing yourself a hint of haughtiness at this point. 

He raises an eyebrow. “I would have thought that obvious from my note. You have been on my mind, and I daresay I think I made enough of an impression that I’ve been on yours. You didn’t seem at all surprised to see me today.”

“I recognized your handwriting,” you scoff. “In case you’ve forgotten, that was not the first note you’ve given me, sir.”

He laughs at that. “You have been paying attention, haven’t you,” he muses, and for the first time, you notice something about his dialect. He tries very hard to mimic the accent of yourself and your peers–a unique blend of an English and New York accent–and he usually does very well, but it suddenly becomes clear to you that it isn’t his native way of speaking. You don’t know why you suddenly notice it now, but you can’t unhear it.

“Do you have a natural Southern accent?” you blurt out, derailing the conversation, and clearly catching him by surprise. If nothing else, doing that, at least, was an accomplishment.

But on the other hand, you also think you’ve finally managed to offend him; a deep scowl mars his face. “Of course not,” he claims, highly affronted. “And if you’re hoping for me to display hidden Southern charm, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. I hold no love for Atlanta, and I have no intention of ever returning. How did you even know that’s where I was from? It’s not something I discuss often, especially not among society.”

“Mrs. Ryan mentioned it,” you murmur. Out of habit, you almost apologize before you remember you don’t care if you offend him or not. In fact, it will probably help in your unique circumstance.

“Damn gossip,” he mutters, probably in response to Mrs. Ryan. “I can’t tell that woman anything unless I want everyone to know about it the next day. And that’s a piece of information I would have preferred to keep to myself for a while longer. I didn’t intend to tell you until later.”

That wording immediately makes you suspicious. “Why would you intend to tell me at all?” you ask carefully. “We’re hardly acquaintances; you owe me no answers about your past.”

Now the sarcastic grin has returned to his face. “I told you before, I don’t like playing mind games. You know perfectly well the answer to your own question. So shall we make this easier on each other and agree not to be coy and speak plainly?” You study his face, trying to discern any hidden motive, but find none. In response to his question, you simply nod once.

“Then you and I both know that I have made my interest quite clear. I have every intention of courting you,” he states bluntly and even though you were expecting it, it still causes a lump to form in your throat.

“My mother will never allow it,” you whisper. “You’re New Money. She would never accept a courtship, much less an engagement, from anyone that is New Money. And I have no interest either.”

That just makes him laugh again. “Your mother can pretend all she wants that I’m not good enough for her type, but I’ve seen people like her before. I know exactly what your family situation is. There’s no money left, is there? All you have is a name and nothing else.”

You can feel your face blanche the longer he speaks. You’d never spoken to anyone about your financial situation. You hardly even speak of it out loud to your mother–that would mean forcing her to accept that the problem exists. How could he possibly have known…?

Apparently the question is clear on your expression, for he answers your unasked question but a moment later. “You remember the Spire family? They had the same desperation in their eyes to get their eldest daughter married off as soon as possible to someone rich. The look in your mother’s eyes was the same as Mr. and Mrs. Spire’s from events I attended with them. It’s easy to find once you know the signs.” Unfortunately, you knew exactly what he was referencing. Poor Abigail Spire was barely older than you when she was forced to marry a widower in his sixties. He’d died from a heart attack on their honeymoon before his will could be changed. His children wrenched his money away, leaving Abigail with nothing, and it was revealed that the Spire’s were penniless. Abigail was working as a seamstress now, so you heard. The scandal had rocked New York, and your mother had been terrified that the same might befall the two of you.

“Your mother won’t let that happen to you, or more importantly, her,” Mr. Onceler remarks, eerily answering your thoughts again. “Eventually, she will agree to sell you off to the highest bidder, New Money or not. And I fully intend to remain that highest bidder.”

“You don’t get it. As long as there is another option, even if the money is slightly less, she will pick that,” you insist. “And there is another option that she is far more partial to.”

“Have you not noticed something that I’m being very deliberate about?” he asks quietly. He stops walking altogether and turns to you. “I’m not asking her. I know she’s too stubborn and set in her ways to allow you to have free will at first. You’ve got a much brighter head on your shoulders. You know half of the families who inherited their wealth rely on nothing more than their names or stocks. It could be gone in an instant. I have enough money set aside already that I could live off of for the rest of my life if I needed. It’s real, not behind some old promise. I can keep you safe. I’m not asking for your mother’s permission to court you. I’m asking for yours.”

You thought your knees were going to give out under the weight of his implications. There was no mincing words, there was no playing games, there was just a black-and-white offer on the table for you to accept if you so chose. But there was also a nagging at the back of your mind.

“What do you want from me in return?” you say lowly. “As you’ve noticed, my family fortune is… it’s gone. So what do you have to gain from this union? What do you want from me?”

“Besides the usual heirs that a man expects from his wife?” Oh, Lord, he was serious. This was not some casual courtship for him, he fully intended to see this through… “As much as I detest it, I cannot deny that the vast majority of society, not just in New York but in all of New England, believes the same as your mother. They value an old name over hard work. You have an old, respected family here. Marrying you would open up doors for me that would otherwise be closed, bring a new level of respectability to my own name. They are entirely selfish reasons, but we have agreed to a mutually beneficial relationship, have we not? This is not for love, do not make the mistake of thinking so.”

You close your eyes briefly, weighing everything he just laid on you. This was your choice, he was making that clear. But after eighteen years of having very little choice in the world, suddenly being asked to make one that would determine the course of the rest of your life seemed like the most daunting obstacle that could be placed in front of you.

“Can I… have some time to think on it?” you plead. “You must understand how huge of a decision this is. I don’t want to make it in an afternoon with emotions running high. I want to have a level head.”

“I’d think less of you if you didn’t,” he commends. “Meet me here in a week’s time to let me know. And if you don’t come, I’ll never bother you again. I promise.”

You nod once, and without speaking, you both turn in the direction of the exit. You somehow manage to keep yourself composed the whole way home. There’s so many thoughts racing through your head, you feel as though you’ve gone numb out of self-defense, but you knew that wouldn’t last forever.

“Until I see you again,” he whispers before kissing the back of your hand. After one last, lingering look, he disappears down the streets, and you have no choice but to reenter your family home.

“Well? What happened?” your mother demands the second you cross the threshold. You blink, then decide.

“It was fine. I explained my lack of interest. There will be no future problems,” you lie. “I am tired though. I’ll take my supper in my room, then retire. If you’ll excuse me, Mother. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.” You slip past her down the hall, ignoring her look of slight astonishment that you would speak to her in such a way.

Whatever choice you made about Mr. Onceler, it would be yours and yours alone. She would not influence you. It was thrilling, finally having the freedom to decide something for yourself. 

But if you chose wrongly… you’d have no one to blame but yourself. That knowledge was as terrifying as it was intoxicating. You had to make sure you chose wisely, for your whole future hung in the balance.

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 11

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

We continue our field trip to Vault 32 and then join our couple as they wrestle with big feelings and new revelations from exploring Vault 32.

Part 1 Here Part 6 Here Part 12 Here

Part 2 Here Part 7 Here

Part 3 Here Part 8 Here

Part 4 Here Part 9 Here

Part 5 Here Part 10 Here

The further you walked down the corridors, the more questions you had and the fewer answers you seemed to find. What truth had these people uncovered? Was it enough to justify the madness that clearly occurred here? The gruesome scenes of death, violence, and despair laid out before you were something you were taught to expect of the surface, not the supposed safety of the trio of Vaults. With every step, it became apparent that the real threat, at least to the dwellers of Vault 32, was within the Vault. We were supposed to be safe down here. 

Your path down the hallway was continuously littered with overturned furniture and debris, creating a maze of obstacles, which Norm dotingly still offered to help you navigate. The three of you continued this way until you entered the waiting area before the Overseer's office. The space was darker than the hallway outside. Glows from hanging Pip-Boys cast an eerie light in the otherwise dark room. You paused, unable to stop yourself from staring at the bodies hanging from the ceiling; you wondered what had led these people to make such a drastic choice.

The main door to the Overseer's office was opened just enough for you to slide under on your stomach. You and Norm simultaneously dropped to the floor and began making your way through the gap. Chet made his disdain known with an "Oh, geez," but you urged him to press forward; he wouldn’t be left alone in any room in Vault 32. You crawled through a mess of scattered paperwork and broken glass on the floor, trying your best to avoid any more injuries. You emerge on the other side of the door in the Overseer’s office, identical in layout to one Overseer MacLean occupied in Vault 33, but this office had definitely seen better days. The Overseer’s office was in a state similar of neglect and disarray to the rest of the Vault, with overturned furniture, limited power, and blood spattered across the walls. You nearly jumped out of your skin when your eyes panned across Overseer’s desk in the middle of the room. Behind his desk, the rotting remains of the last Overseer, still at his post, bound in place by electrical cords.

"Okay, I think it's safe to say they went bananas," Chet remarked, his voice tinged with unease. Horrified but still focused on the main quest at hand, Norm said, "That doesn't explain how the raiders got in." He turned to you, pointing to equipment on the right wall. "Check the mainframe terminals and see what you can find.”  He looped around to the Overseer's terminal behind the desk. “I’ll see what I can find on the Overseer’s terminal.” 

The silence of the Vault was broken by the occasional clicking of the keyboards; Chet continued pacing around the room while you focused on the task. His Pip-Boy illuminated the office's far left wall, highlighting another set of words written in blood: "Death to Management." Seeing the phrase, he doubled down on his earlier statement. "These people were crazy. If any survivors were down here, they probably opened the door and welcomed the raiders right in."

You looked up from your attempts at unlocking the terminals to respond. "I don't know. These people were basically us at one point; I think something must have happened to make them go mad.”

“Seriously, what on Earth would make you- Chet stopped, not wanting to utter the next words- do any of this?” he finished, gesturing towards the scenes in the Vault. 

Not having an answer, you continued plugging away at the keyboard, trying to figure out the series of access codes that would grant you entrance to the mainframe systems. As you typed, the terminal screen sputtered, struggling to run without power; any progress you had made was now reset. Frustrated, you said, "I'm not having much luck here."

Norm continued typing on the Overseer's terminal, seemingly having better luck. He scrolled through the logs, searching for clues about how the raiders had gotten into Vault 32. The computer commands appeared in green text across the screen: Accessing Vault Door Control Interlink. His nimble fingers moved quickly as he entered more commands, looking for the external vault door logs. His expression turned to surprise as he read the information on the screen. "It says it was opened from the outside."

You stopped and turned towards him. "How did they manage that?"

Chet added, "They would need a Pip-Boy to open the door."

Norm's face was pale as he answered. "They had one."

Chet's confusion was evident. "Whose?"

Norm's voice was barely a whisper. "My mom's."

On the screen, in highlighted green text, was the name MacLean, Rose. You all stood around Norm, too stunned to speak. The room seemed to close around you, the weight of the discovery pressing down heavily.

_________________________

The two of you entered his quarters and found a silent space on the couch. The stillness was almost suffocating, neither of you daring to break it. Your head was spinning with questions and theories. What exactly had happened in Vault 32 before the raiders arrived? And why did the MacLeans seem to be at the center? You had been unsure how to bring it up to Norm, curious why the raiders had targeted his father of all people, capturing him without any ransom or demands. It had seemed odd to you at the time, but you were sure now it had to be connected; you just couldn’t see the threads yet.  And now, for his mom's Pip-Boy to be the one that allowed surface dwellers access to the vault, this couldn’t be a coincidence. 

You pulled yourself from your thoughts and focused on the young man before you. He had to realize it, too. His family was connected to the events occurring in the vault. You took a deep breath and asked, "How are you doing, Norm?"

He stared at the floor, his shoulders slumped. "I don't know," he said quietly, his voice hollow. "I mean, I always knew my family was involved in the vault’s management, but this... This is something else entirely."

You nodded, unsure of what to say.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and pain. "Why would my mom's Pip-Boy be used to open the vault door? She’s been gone for years. And my dad... He never talked about any of this.”

You took his hand, squeezing it gently. "There has to be an explanation.”

Norm shook his head, frustration etched on his face. "But why? And why would my mom’s Pip-Boy be out there, in the hands of raiders, when she’s supposed to be dead and buried?"

You hesitated, your thoughts swirling, nervous to ask him the following question. "Norm, do you think your dad knew about this?” 

He went silent, the question hanging heavily in the air. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know. I want to believe he wasn't involved in anything like this. But with everything we’ve found... I just don’t know anymore. I find it hard to believe he could be Overseer and not know."

You nodded, understanding his turmoil. “There’s a chance that’s true; we don’t have much information on Vaults 31 and 32.” 

“That’s another concern I have. My dad is from 31, and I can barely remember him talking about it. No childhood memories, no friends or family he wished he could have kept in contact with. It’s like his life started in Vault 33 when he married my mom.” 

“We’ll figure this out.” 

Norm managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. (Y/N), would you mind staying the night? Being alone doesn't sound appealing."

You leaned closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I was planning on it.” 

_______________________

The heaviness of the day’s discoveries followed you both into Norm’s quarters, but the familiar, comforting space offered a small measure of solace. The silence enveloped you as the door clicked shut behind you, starkly contrasting the chaotic thoughts whirling in your mind.

Norm sighed deeply and glanced around the room. “I guess we should get ready for bed,” he said softly, barely above a whisper.

You nodded in agreement as the exhaustion from the day hit you. 

He paused, looking slightly embarrassed. “Um, I don’t have a spare toothbrush or anything...”

You smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay. I can make do for one night.”

Norm seemed relieved and moved towards the small bathroom he shared with Lucy, turning on the tap to splash his face with cool water. He rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a pair of soft, worn pajamas. “Here, they’re Lucy’s, but these should be comfortable. And no comment, please, about you sleeping in my sister’s pjs while we’re in my childhood bedroom; I’m aware of the implication. ”

“Thanks, and you said it, not me,” you said, laughing it off, taking the clothes from him. You stepped into the bathroom to change, noticing the ordinary domesticity of his space: the familiar scent of his soap, the neatly hung towels, the small potted plant on the windowsill, probably his sisters, too. It was comforting in its normalcy.

When you emerged, you found Norm holding out his spare toothbrush. “I remembered I had a new one. You can use it.”

“Perfect timing,” you joked, taking the toothbrush from him. You both stood side by side at the sink, silently brushing your teeth. The rhythmic motions and the minty taste of the toothpaste were soothing, grounding you in the present moment. When you were done, you rinsed and spit, wiping your mouth with a towel as Norm did the same.

“I’ll get the bed ready,” you said, moving towards the tiny bedroom area. You pulled back the covers, smoothing the sheets and fluffing the pillows. Norm joined you a moment later, pulling off his shirt and slipping into his Vault Tec-issued pajamas. You couldn’t help but stare, and when he caught you admiring him, you patted the bed, welcoming him to join you under the comforter. He climbed into bed beside you, the mattress creaking slightly under your shared weight. 

Once settled, Norm reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a soft, comforting darkness. You shifted closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close, and he rested his head on your chest this time; it was your turn to comfort him. For a while, neither of you spoke. Your fingers traced lazy patterns on Norm’s back as he closed his eyes. He lay there still listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, still in somewhat disbelief you chose to be here with him. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Norm murmured into the darkness.

“Me too,” you whispered back. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything,” you responded back, curious about what the topic of his inquiry could be.

“Why me? I mean, you could have had anyone in the vault, and you picked the shortest guy in Vault 33?” he joked, but his tone was hesitant. He was interested but may be afraid of the answer he might get. 

You chuckled softly, shifting slightly to look down at him. “You must be misremembering. I was clearly the weird book girl.”

Norm smiled, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. “No, really. I want to know.”

You took a deep breath, considering how to put your feelings into words. “Okay. I enjoy the way your mind works, Norm. I love trying to figure out what’s going on up there,” you said, gently tapping his forehead. “You’re direct and honest. Seriously, it’s a breath of fresh air in a place where people often hide behind politeness.”

Norm listened intently, his expression softening as you spoke.

“Not everyone gets to see it, but you’re fiercely loyal to those you care about. It was wrong, but you cared about me so much that you isolated yourself, thinking it was for my own good. That’s a rare kind of selflessness, even if it was uncharacteristically dumb and misguided.”

He laughed.

“There’s so much to like about you, Norman MacLean,” you continued, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity. Norm's eyes glistened in the dim light, clearly moved by your words. He pulled himself closer to you, his embrace tightening.

“But there’s more,” you added, a playful note in your voice. “I also love that you play into my judgments of other people. Not only the humor in it, but it’s like you validate my intuition. You help me see the good or bad in people without any pretenses.”

Norm raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. “You mean I’m your secret weapon?”

“Exactly,” you laughed softly. “You’re like my compass. You help me navigate this place, and I trust your instincts. They’ve gotten us this far.” 

He grinned, his humor breaking through. “So, you’re saying the shortest guy in Vault 33 has some hidden talents, huh?”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine in the quiet room. “Absolutely. You’re my secret weapon, compass, and favorite person in this vault, shortness and all.”

“Hmm, sounds like you’ve fallen pretty hard for me,” he replied, his tone dripping with smugness. “Kinda hard not to,” you smiled, playing into it, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. 

Norm lay silently for a moment, his thoughts clearly still racing. Then, with a sigh, he began to speak. “ Wanna hear my reasons?”

“Should I be nervous?” you joked.  “I’ll be serious, I promise. It’s only fair.” He took a second to gather his thoughts and began again. 

“First off, you’re not just the ‘weird book girl’ to me, I mean, you are. No normal person reads the entire Vault library for fun-” 

“Hey!” 

He continued as you squeezed him a little tighter. “But that’s uniquely you. I couldn’t imagine you any other way,” he began, his tone earnest. “And you’re beautiful,” he added softly, his gaze intense and genuine. You returned a soft blush as he looked up at you.

“I don’t think you’ve ever seen it in yourself. How stunning you are; I wish you could see yourself how I see you. And it’s not just your looks, though you are absolutely gorgeous. It’s how you carry yourself and how your eyes light up when you’re passionate about something. It makes me want to be around you all the time.” 

He paused, searching for the right words. “And you’re kind. So incredibly kind and not the fake ‘Vault Tec approved’ kindness we learned here. Do you remember that time when we were kids, and I got in trouble for sneaking into the hydroponics lab?” 

You nodded, recalling the memory. “Yeah, I remember. You were trying to get a closer look at the strawberries.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s right. I wanted to see if they were as sweet as they looked. But I ended up knocking over a whole tray of seedlings. My dad was so pissed at me. I thought I was going to be punished for weeks.”

“You did get into a lot of trouble,” you agreed, remembering the tense atmosphere following the incident.

“But then you did something I’ll never forget,” Norm continued, his voice filled with admiration. “You came forward and told the Overseer that it was your fault. That you had dared me to go into the lab.”

You blinked, surprised by the memory. “I forgot about that.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “You took the blame for something you didn’t do. And because of that, my punishment was a lot lighter. I only had to do extra weekly chores instead of being grounded for a month.”

You shrugged modestly. “It was nothing.”

“But it wasn’t nothing,” Norm insisted. “You were always doing the kindest things like that for me. I have so many memories like that, which you probably don’t recall. You could have let me face the consequences alone, but you didn’t. You stood by me, even though it meant you got into trouble too.”

“I just didn’t want you to be miserable,” you said softly. You blushed, feeling a mixture of pride and humility. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

Norm’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. “But more than all of that, you see me. The real me. You don’t just see the Black Sheep of Vault 33 or the son of the Overseer. You see past all of that and accept me for who I am, flaws and all.”

“I think I’m trying to say that I love you. And I think I’ve always loved you.” 

“I love you too, Norm,” you said, wrapping your arms around him and locking him into a kiss.

[bibliotheque-des-reves]

Late Night Poetry and Kindness - Yi Sang x Reader

(Y/N) = Your name

Reader uses They/Them pronouns and there are no gendered terms

831 words

Fluff

Closing time is closing time, but perhaps one last customer for your bookstore is worth waiting around for.

"Have a nice day!" (Y/N) would wave to the departing customers with a smile upon their face. The bell chimed, announcing the couple leaving the store. After taking a note at the clock, it looked like it was time to call it quits and take care of everything before (Y/N) had to scurry home.

Getting up from a stool, the bookstore owner would go up to the door and reach out for the sign to flip it and yet-

"Ah-"

A man stood in the doorway, wearing a rather unique uniform. He was quite pale at that and had short black hair that appeared slightly unkempt.

Not only that, but goodness did he look tired-

"Oh! Yi Sang!"

"I tried to come as fast as I could... Am I too late..."

(Y/N) shook their head, allowing him into the building and flipping the sign once he had stepped in. "You are, but... I know you missed me last time, so I'll make an exception." They smiled, locking the door to ensure no one else would come in. "You certainly get out of work late..."

Yi Sang sighed, instantly going over to the poetry section. Not a man of many words, but (Y/N) didn't mind. "...Do you have any recommendations?"

"Huh?" That was a first, quite typically Yi Sang would be the one who would browse the section without a care of what anyone else thought. "Um... Some of these I haven't read, I'll admit."

There was a slow nod from Yi Sang.

"I'm going to be dusting up a bit around some shelves, so just call if you need anything!" (Y/N) gave a gentle wave and walked off, knowing that Yi Sang wouldn't cause any trouble.

Grabbing the broom and dustpan, (Y/N) would walk back to the shelves, humming as they swept. Normally, they'd be a bit upset with a straggler or two, but-

Yi Sang was at least good company.

He didn't talk much and frankly, he never really needed to. Whenever he walked into the bookstore, it seemed like Yi Sang knew exactly what he wanted. Though, tonight it seemed like he was lingering a bit longer than usual.

"(Y/N)-"

"Oh, all set?" After finishing the shelf of history books, (Y/N) would turn around, looking at Yi Sang as he stood by the counter. "Give me a moment!"

After setting down their tools for cleaning, (Y/N) went to the register and began to ring Yi Sang up for the books. "Oh, you picked two copies- Did they stick together...?"

"That copy is actually for you."

"...Huh?"

"You mentioned you hadn't read any of those books. I just tried to pick out one I thought you'd like best..." Yi Sang spoke softly, giving a small nod. "Besides, I want you to consider it my apology for arriving so late."

(Y/N) shook their head in surprise. "You don't have to do that-! I'm more than happy to get a chance to see you!"

"...I see-"

Upon realizing what they just said, (Y/N)'s cheeks became a rosy pink and they quietly went back to scanning the books. They told Yi Sang the total meekly and finished ringing him out.

"...(Y/N)-"

"Y-yes?"

"Thank you for allowing me in." Yi Sang would give a look- he wasn't smiling, but it was perhaps the norm. It was within the way he spoke did (Y/N) know it was genuine. "I do hope I am not being too selfish with my presence or even my gift."

"N-not at all!" (Y/N) gave a nervous smile, shaking their head once more. "You're normally still at work, right...? You don't get out until very late... if you get out at all."

Yi Sang nodded.

"Hmm- Maybe I can rearrange my hours..."

"Are you sure?"

(Y/N) hummed. "Well... You really seem to like being here. It makes me feel bad when I'm locking the doors and I turn and see you around the corner, honestly."

"...I really am being selfish..."

"N-not at all! Besides... It means I can sleep in a bit." (Y/N) would bring up, offering a small smile. "I'll think about it, but it sounds like we both win here."

"As long as you're certain. I'd much rather this not be one-sided." Yi Sang would take the bag of books. "...Please don't forget this-"

He placed the gifted one on the counter- making sure it wasn't going home with him by accident.

"...I won't, don't worry." (Y/N) smiled. "Let me get the door for you."

Yi Sang looked like he wanted to say something, but simply nodded. "...Good night, (Y/N)."

"Have a good one!" (Y/N) waved before locking the doors. They gave a small sigh, walking back to the counter to count the money.

Eyes went down to the book and a hand gently went over the spine.

"...Isn't the selfish one me?"

[navibluebees]

Someone to be Proud of (Recom Quaritch x Female Human Reader) - Part 16

Please read before interacting.

Ka'ani helped you and Spider down from his ikran. He hadn't asked why you had an extra passenger going back and had chatted easily with Spider while you were sandwiched between them. Spider looked around nervously at the Omaticaya gathered when you arrived. A few waved and smiled kindly, but had remained wary due to his connection with Miles.

"Come on, Spider."

You wrapped a hand around his and led him behind you. He stumbled along, feeling more lost and alone than he had as a child. You put a protective arm around him and laughed slightly.

"You've grown some. Getting a little too tall for me to do this, huh?"

He let a small smile slip onto his face and leaned his taller frame into yours as you went into the lab pod and took off your masks. The scientists were startled and jumped up, running to greet the child they'd collectively raised. He flourished under their excited words and hugs. He looked to you, haunted eyes worried.

"I want to tell them," he blurted.

"Tell us.. what?" Norm asked hesitantly.

Spider moved to stand beside you. He fidgeted with his hands as he relayed what he'd told Kiri only a couple days before. Their faces were mixed shock, sadness, and disappointment. Spider's chest was growing tighter and tighter by the minute and you stepped slightly in front of him.

"He made a choice. We haven't seen him come after us or Spider and the Sully's. He's staying away.

"How long have you known about this?" Norm crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at you.

You sighed and met his gaze fully. "Since Neteyam's memorial at the Tree of Souls."

"Are you kidding me?!"

Norm's outburst shocked you, but you steeled yourself for the onslaught.

"Go back to my room, Spider. I'll be there in a little while."

He tried to speak up, but you held a hand up. "Let me do this. It's the one right back there," you said with a gesture of your hand.

Spider walked back, shoulders drooped and you waited until you heard your door shut before turning back to the group of scientists. You lowered your voice slightly.

"He is just a child," you hissed. "He saw someone in pain and couldn't let them suffer."

"But he's a terrible person!" one of them shot back.

"And I'm not disagreeing with you, but that is the closest thing that child will have to a living parent and you will not shame him for that choice, for having compassion for another living being."

"What about the Sully's?" Max asked.

You stood straight, arms crossed and looked at him.

"You have to have seen the way Neytiri treats him. She will never care for him like that. Jake may care for him but if anything it seems more like he feels sorry for Spider. Miles has done terrible things, yes. But Spider spent months with him, teaching him the language, how to move through the forest and get to know the world. You never saw the way he talked about Spider, how desperately he wanted to impress him. It's more complicated than just him rescuing someone who's made terrible decisions."

"Wait," Norm said. "You said you found out at the Tree of Souls. When we left you in the forest and couldn't find you. Where were you really?"

You clenched your teeth, having expected this would come out eventually.

"I was with Miles." Their voices started to raise, but you put a hand up. "He came up behind me, startled me. I thought grief was just overwhelming me and I went into shock and lost consciousness. He took me on his ikran and flew away but when I woke up, I scared him. He landed, we fought. I told him to go away. I ended up falling off of his ikran. That's how I hurt my shoulder. I haven't seen him since."

They looked like they wanted to say more but you cut them off again with a wave of your hand.

"He told Kiri before we left that Miles is alive. She was going to tell her parents and knew he shouldn't be around them. That's why he's here. If you have more to say about it, you can tell me tomorrow. You will not treat him differently. You will not harass him about this. I'll see you all in the morning."

You turned on your heel and went into your room, hoping you'd see him already asleep, but he sat on the edge of your bed with his head in his hands. You rubbed a gentle hand over his shoulder and you heard a sniffle from him. His eyes were bloodshot and your heart ached for him. You encouraged him to lay down and laid down beside him.

You both stared at the ceiling and sighed at the same time. A weak stream of giggles escaped from your mouths and you reached between you to find his hand and wrap your fingers around it.

"It's going to be okay, Spider. It'll work out."

He wasn't so sure, but in this moment, he felt safe with you and he settled into that comfort as he went to sleep.

~~~

Miles sat up as soon as his eyes opened. He was done wallowing in self-pity. He didn't know when he would see you both again, if ever, but he wouldn't be someone you would be ashamed to know. He would be better. Someone to be proud of.

He flew on Cupcake over the clan's camp and the water. He flew low and brushed his fingertips in the water. The air whipped through his grown-out hair, the curls now in disarray. He'd have to start braiding it soon. He circled back around and flew to the usual training area. He sat quietly at the edge of the ring and closed his eyes. Cupcake hovered nearby, guarding him and chirped when another person came up to the area. Varang eyed him curiously.

"You were not at breakfast," she said. "Why are you up here alone?"

He sighed. "I wanted to think. To be sure."

"What do you need to be sure of?"

He smiled at her, confident in his decision.

"I will be pierced. If you will allow me."

---

Due to the Ash people having nowhere nearby to connect to Eywa, when they wanted to reach out to Her, they would often partake in bloodletting for spiritual purposes. They sacrificed part of themselves to Her through piercing or bloodletting to become closer.

Miles had learned more of this in the time he'd been with the clan. He had been in his lowest moments here, witnessed by a people unfamiliar to him. For the first time in his life, he was an outsider and had plenty of time to ruminate on his mistakes. He had come to see that just because he was given an order didn't mean it was right to follow it. He'd seen where following orders had led him. What it had taken from him.

He winced as he felt needles pushed through both ears. Small yellow gems were pushed through each hole and he groaned at the pain. He tried to keep his ears still, but they flicked around after hands had let go of them. He wrapped his tail around his own leg, determined to hold still for the last part. His nostrils flared, but he would see this through. He had lost everything. He was broken now, and willing to become more. He would do this.

His chin was tilted up and Varang looked deep into his eyes, searching for any hesitation. He nodded firmly at her and her smile grew at what she saw. She stepped back as the Tsahìk gripped his jaw and pushed the final needle through his septum. His eyes shut tight in pain as he felt blood roll down his lips. The spiritual leader threaded the simple gold hoop through where the needle had gone and pinched it closed. He sniffed, adjusting to the new additions to his body.

The Tsahìk helped him stand and he breathed heavily, almost surprised at himself for his choice. Of all the places he thought his journey would take him, he never could have imagined this. Varang steadied him with hands on his chest. She looked deeply into his eyes and nodded. "You are one of us now. You are one of the People."

Hands were suddenly everywhere, touching him if they could and the shoulders of others if they couldn't. Some part of his broken heart fluttered in acceptance and he knew he was made for this. He relaxed under their touch and allowed himself a moment of peace.

Whether he got you back or not, he would not continue to destroy lives the way he had before. He was Na'vi now. His denial of it had only brought heartache and it was time to admit his purpose. He had not been brought back to hunt Jake Sully. He would make a vow to take the RDA down and send them away from this world. His world.

~~~

Across the very same world, bright screens lit up the face of another recom. Lyle Wainfleet stared at the screens, desperately seeking any piece of information of his commander. He had pawed through every camera, every recording over and over in the months he'd been left with nothing to do. After falling off of the ship and losing consciousness, he'd barely made it, but his ikran had found him and helped pull him out. They'd rested until Lyle felt strong enough to fly to Bridgehead, hoping to see one of his team there. He'd been sorely disappointed to find out he'd missed Quaritch fairly recently.

Nobody seemed worried about finding him, and Lyle couldn't let that go. He stared harder until he saw familiar gold markings on an ikran above the ocean. There, he thought. He zoomed in and although it was a bit blurry, the posture was the same. The ikran was the same. His heart felt lighter as he ran through plan after plan in his mind.

He resolved himself to escape and find his leader. He'd had a lot of time to be alone. A lot of time to think. And seeing the footage from around the world, he'd seen the Na'vi. People just living their lives. Doing no harm. He clenched his hands into fists, thinking of all the violence and hurt he'd brought down on them. Not again. He would find Quaritch and show him the plans he'd found. The plans to attack the clans.

***

Note: I have heard rumors/theories that the Ash people will be based off Mesoamerican cultures, which is where the spiritual bloodletting came from. I researched it a bit and I have tried my best to be respectful of the source material, but if there are any things I should change to be more accurate, please let me know! Thank you guys for reading and supporting.

Taglist:

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @mechformers @nuttyrebelflower @ikranwings @myh3artt @sweetirilly

[throne-for-queens]

I'm wondering if anyone else has noticed the way MF constantly victimizes herself and if long time fans of hers know if this is out of the norm for her? I've known of her but was never a fan. I'm not really aware of how she presents herself normally. What I have noticed, is that she really leans into being a victim. Even if it is back handed comments such as the one on her voice acting vampire post where she says it's cathartic for all her haters to kill her in the video game. Also, not going to repeat all the slander that's coming from her book.

My theory? She saw how hated he is. Just like she saw how he loves pretty feet and got a pedicure before meeting him with the intention of him noticing (her self proclaimed story anyway who knows if it is true she seems like a pathological liar sometimes) I think she saw how targeted he is by the media. Saw how codependent he is. I mean... She is an expert in personalities and birth charts. She knows everything about him, right? It seems to me like she is trying to relate to him on that level. Not for herself. But for him. So that he will feel a kinship with her. Both "misunderstood, outcasts, bullied by the media, 'no one understands who we truly are baby, all you have is ME, I am the ONLY one who sees your soul baby, I am the ONLY one who will ever truly love you'" blah blah. Maybe I am insensitive 😕 but this is something I've been thinking more and more lately and I need to know if anyone has had this feeling.

Before anyone comes for me or the blog owner:

Celebrities sign up for scrutiny, over analysis, public scrutiny, speculation from the masses, and ridiculous amounts of payout for the contracts they sign for that peak behind the curtain. And... are we really-in 2023- pretending that social media and paparazzi aren't the new reality TV shows of the day?

I can see that, their meeting story always seemed pretty odd and all over the place, because in the podcast with Randall and Lala they made it seem like they met on set. Megan claims to have instantly known that he was her twin flame and colson says that he waited everyday (more like 24 hours) until she noticed him.

But then they had the GQ couples interview and suddenly they met at a party where neither felt this instant connection and "I am weed" became their signature. The story isn't straight because before she says she instantly knew of their connection, but the GQ party proves otherwise.

Megan also pushes herself as a healer in his life, and she said this in the interview with Nylon. "It's more that he looks to me to avoid his own self destructive tendencies. And that's where I'm useful because on his own and left to his own devices I don't know how much interest he has in caring for himself."

Colson also refers to Megan as the Sun to him, and I don't think I need to explain what happens if the sun goes away. There is so much emotional dependency placed on Megan that I personally feel like it's unhealthy. It sounds like he has completely rid himself of the possibility of doing life without her, and she not only accepts that but she encourages such a toxic dynamic.

The song sid & Nancy will always have me as its number 1 hater, because she said that they should go out murder/sui if they ever broke up. Considering that he nearly deleted himself on the phone after that loss of his father, I think it was a pretty tone deaf thing to say. And even though I hope I'm wrong, if the redditor is right about their analysis of her book, I have a pretty strong feeling that the lover who asked her if she wanted him deleted is him. And again, I hope I'm wrong because that would mean that my previous statements about her being Jada is 100% true because that woman is very narcissistic and doesn't care about outing someone who trusted her.