#the tags: so it all started in 2003-

[toustik-blogs]

Tw eyestrain

This is for the draw this in your style by @ricky-tiki-tah ^^

I wanted to do this wayyyy earlier but i was busy with stuff

Hope ya like it ^^

[wetbloodworm]

oh we found some OLD art, friends

[jazziejax]

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - In which two twin gangsters return home after years in Chicago, to 2003 Jackson, Mississippi. Only to find that the chubby, brace-faced tomboy from across the street has grown into a woman they can’t ignore.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - drug use, swearing

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - something short because I literally have five other Smoke and Stack fics cooking in my drafts

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 2,178+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢

It always started with noise. Summer in Mississippi wasn’t just heat and humidity—it was loud. Between the swatting screen doors, the bugs flying, kids playing double dutch with mismatched ropes, and the rickety hum of box fans, it was hard to hear yourself think. But for young Juicy, the noise was a comfort… until it wasn’t.

Back in ‘95, Juicy was about eleven, braces still fresh, glasses sliding down her nose every five minutes, and dressed in a floral pattered dress that matches her sisters, though hers fit her more boxier than it did on the older girl. But she didn’t care much about appearances, and it didn’t help that her mama always compared her to her older sister, Sinclair, thin and pretty like the girls in those Jet beauty ads or the ones on the perm boxes. “If only you laid off them pork chops,” was her mama’s idea of encouragement. Her daddy didn’t say much at all.

Juicy found her peace elsewhere—mainly across the street.

The Moore twins, Elias and Elijah—known as Smoke and Stack to others—were about six years older, fast-mouthed, sharp-eyed boys sly grins and problems they never spoke too loudly about. Their father was known around the neighborhood for being the kind of man who left bruises instead of blessings, and their mother was long gone. But the Hall’s took to them like family. Martin, Juicy’s older brother, clicked with them right away over cassette tapes and corner store hustles. Sinclair even crushed on Stack for a while, though he never acted on it.

But it was Juicy—a little awkward, big-bodied, and always scribbling in her notebook—who lingered in the background. She wasn’t really friends with the boys, not like her siblings were. But some days, when things were too loud at her house and Mary, her only friend, couldn’t come out, Smoke would let her sit on the porch with them, passing her a freeze cup and tossing her lazy jokes that made her laugh until her gums showed. Or when Stack would let her old onto him as she rode on back of his bike as he made stops around the neighborhood.

Those little moments were enough. They made her feel seen.

And then, they were gone. Moved up to Chicago when she was fifteen, chasing something bigger—money, maybe, or just a way out. Life moved on. And the city was still as loud as ever.

But in 2003, the block got loud again in their return.

They came back in a long black Lincoln, rolling slow like they owned the pavement. Elias drove, toothpick between his teeth, silver chains glinting in the sun as she rubbed down his waves. Elijah was in the passenger seat, shades low on his nose, hair in tight cornrows. They’d filled out—solid, broad-shouldered men now, still dressed in dark clothes with just enough shine to show they had money. Word spread fast.

Smoke and Stack were home.

First stop was the gas station—for fuel and the liquor store next to it, then the old park where half the benches were gone and the other half were tagged up in Sharpie and knife scratches, looking for their homeboy in his usual spot. A few heads turned, so they dapped up old friends, nodded at familiar faces.

But the real reunion happened on Vernon Street.

Martin Hall was leaned up against his Impala, blunt behind his ear, gold ring glinting. He caught sight of the car before it even parked at the house across the street, and when he caught sight of the men in the car, he instantly grinned.

“Nahhh, I know this ain’t who I think it is.” He shouted, arms already wide open.

Stack stepped out first, grinning, and then Smoke followed. The three embraced like no time had passed at all, Martin falling the men up. Loud laughs, back slaps, the kind of reunion that made neighbors peek through blinds.

“Man, what the hell are yall doing back? And ain’t told a nigga?” Marin asked as he leaned backed against his hood, taking the blunt his girlfriend passed him from her place in his serving seat.

“It was quick to us too, man.” Smoke said, shaking his head a bit. “Them Chiraq niggas different, too much shit going on up there.” He said, placing his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie, his baggy white tee hanging from underneath a bit.

“Money was good, though.” Stack smirked, moving his gaze away from the woman in the car that was eyeing him with a lustful glint in her, to look at the against the hood.

“I bet.” Martin smirked. “I could only imagine what you niggas got up to up there. Especially to come back as fly as that.” He said, nodding over to the cars in front of the boys old home as he blew away the smoke from the blunt.

“Shit, us?” Stack questioned. “Look at you. The jewelry, new whip. Seems money down here moving smooth.”

“Mmm…it’s aight.” Martin shrugged, causing the twins to chuckle with a shake of their heads.

“You know we gotta celebrate.”Martin said, standing from the car a bit as he handed the blunt to his shorty in the car. “Whole block been a bit dry without y’all. Let me throw something together for tonight.” He suggested. “Plus, I gotta clean some paper anyway.” He shrugged, trying to ease the blow of an unexpected gathering upon the men.

Smoke and Stack exchanged a glance before both men looked back at their old friend and shrugged Martin clapped his hands with a smirk. “Aight.” He nodded. “Tracy, go call yo homegirls and shit, tell ‘em to come through while I get shit situated.” He said to the girl in his drivers seat. Tracy didn’t even say anything, she simply got out the car and made her at into the house, bit before making a bit of a show of pulling down her booty shorts. Stack and Smoke exchanged another look at that, but nothing was said further.

Plans were made fast. A block party. Speakers, coolers, grills were pulled out faster than the men could think. Now they just had to get everything jumpin’.

The men sat around Martin’s car catching up, reminiscing on old scams, and laughing at things they never got caught for. Smoke lit a cigarette while Stack leaned back, tapping his fingers on the dashboard.

That’s when they saw her.

Juicy.

She came walking up the sidewalk with Mary next to her, both of them laughing at something too far to hear. Juicy was still thick, but this time, she wore it like armor. Curves hugged up in a baby pink Juicy Couture set, midriff peeking under the hoodie. Her wedged flip flops clicked against the concrete with purpose. Her acrylics—French tips—glinted when she lifted her lollipop to her lips. Lips lined and glossy, brown skin smooth and glowing, gold hoops in her ears catching sun. Her sunglasses were perched on her head, the blonde highlighted tresses in a bun, looking like it just came out of a fresh roller set. It was only when she got closer that they could see that she still had the tiniest gap when she smiled, but now it looked like part of the charm.

Mary had her own vibe—low-rise jeans, rhinestone tank and a high pony—but no one was looking at her. Not the twins at least.

It was Juicy who had the street paused.

Smoke sat up a little straighter. Stack cocked his head. “Lil’ Juicy?” He mumbled.

And just like that, the heat of Mississippi summer wasn’t the loudest thing on the block anymore.

The heat clung to the air, and the bass from someone’s backyard radio pulsed low in the distance. Juicy walked like she owned the sidewalk, hips swaying in perfect rhythm with the click of her heels. She was curvy in all the right places—thicker than the girls on TV, but built with softness and strength that couldn’t be ignored.

Smoke and Stack hadn’t said a word yet. They’d gone still the second they saw her. Not obviously—nothing as sloppy as ogling—but they noticed everything. The gloss, the tips, the squinting, whenever from the sun or her needing her prescription. They both could remember how they used to slide down her nose every few seconds.

She no longer looked like the quiet girl who used to sit on the porch with a notebook. She looked like a woman now. A whole one.

Martin lifted a hand. “Juice! Come say what’s up.” He called out, waving the girl over.

Juicy raised a brow as she stopped at the curb, Mary lingering just behind her. “You actin’ like I don’t live here.”he caused, causing Martin to smack his lips. “You know what I mean.”

Juicy clocked the twins as soon as she approached. But her eyes didn’t widen, she didn’t blink. She just popped that lollipop out her mouth slow, head tilted, and said—

“Well, well. Look who finally came home.” All soft like.

Smoke stepped forward, arms crossed, head tilted just slightly. “Ain’t seen you in years, Juicy.” He said, voice a little lower than usual.

Stack nodded. “You done grown all up now.” He said, his eyes subconsciously giving the girl before him a quick once over, one that had him wanting to trace his eyes over her body again.

Juicy didn’t blush—she never did. She just looked between them, slow and deliberate, then popped the lollipop from her mouth and smiled, tiny gap and all. “Y’all look the same.” She said, though they really didn’t. “Maybe taller. Maybe.” She shrugged, not hiding the way she analyzed the men from head to toe, taking in their otherwise plain street wear, which she knew had to still be a decent penny for.

Martin chuckled. “They back for good. Figured I’d throw a little somethin’ tonight. Let the block know.”

Juicy nodded, barely glancing back at the twins. “That’s cute. I’ll see what’s up.” Then to Mary, “Come on.”

She turned without another word, strutting toward the house, and the two men made it their mission to not look at the rhinestones bedazzled on her booty, reading ‘Juicy’ across the span of the area. Mary, however, lingered just a second longer. Her eyes locked on Stack like she was sizing him up for dessert. No shame at all. She flashed a grin that was all teeth and trouble before jogging up the steps behind Juicy.

When they were gone, Martin lit his blunt, shaking his head. “Y’all look like you saw a ghost.” He said as he blew the smoke out. “Was it Mary? Yeah, I know, still freaks me out a bit to see her down here.” He added, not even waiting for an explanation from them.

Smoke leaned against the hood, eyes still on the porch. “Nah.” He muttered, voice tight. “Yeah, you right. Just didn’t expect that.” He said, though he was simply agreeing to save face.

A few minutes later, it seemed as though this party was about to take off as people began to show up, their drinks of chose and blunts in their clutches. This made Martin head inside to grab more beers while the twins stayed posted at the car, quiet now that the noise of the street settled down.

It was silent between them for a bit before Stack spoke up, not even looking at his brother. “Juicy is far from the girl we left them heard back.” Stack said, rubbing the back of his neck, internally questioning himself over the quick flashes of ‘not so pure’ thoughts he had about the girl he grew up with.

“Yeah.” Smoke replied. “She is.”

They didn’t say anything else for a moment, both thinking the same thing—how time had a funny way of flipping the script. How the girl who used to scribble doodles on everything and watch them from the corner of the porch now walked like she didn’t owe anybody her attention.

Smoke remembered the way she used to listen when he talked—really listen—without judgment or noise. How he used to feel stupid for sharing some of his serpent moments with someone so young. How at first he just needed her for an ear, and she levered that, and when he needed some answers, she was quick to help as well. And she had those same eyes. Soft but knowing. That hadn’t changed.

Stack was still thinking about her walk. The way she didn’t give them a second glance, like she’d seen men like them a thousand times. It didn’t bruise his ego—it just made him curious.

“And I peep she’s got a smart mouth on her now.” He finally said, half a smile on his lips.

Smoke nodded, but his gaze didn’t leave the front door. “Yeah.” He muttered, and that’s all he seemed to be able to say, as if she had rendered him speechless.

Stack’s smirked widen, longing his lips as a thought crossed his mind.

“Wonder who she’s lettin’ have it.”

If you would like to be added to the taglist, comment here.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 🗑️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬★ ★ ★ ★ ★

[stealingpotatoes]

POTES SEMI-LIVEBLOGS KOTOR!

ive been writing my thoughts in the notes app but due to popular demand (one person asked for it) i'm posting my liveblogging DO NOT SAY/TAG/COMMENT SPOILERS PLEASE i read tags

warning im a yapper, im 10 hours in and theres a lot already (separated into sessions):

SESSION 1

whos this clown i thought i would be playing as revan

ive been too spoiled by dragon age origins this character creator sucks ass

only human???? ): fr?? ill just imagine her different in my brain or some shit

my life is being mansplained to me. is this bad writing or do i have amnesiacs

hes meta now??? hes talking abt the screen controls?????

omg a jedi and an evil jediii

omg their asses suckedddd they both died immediately

i <3 bringing a sword to a gun fight

WHY R THERE SO MANY SITH WHERE IS TJE RULE OF TWO

i clicked a workbench and it said lightsaber so either i get a lightsaber or i get a jedi friend whose lightsaber i can steal if im careful

I assume u play as revan in kotor2 so im gonna buy that now so i can play it when im done playing w this clown

i got light side points im getting a good grade in game morality which is something both normal to want and possible to achieve

everyone keeps saying revan is dead but thats my friend revan from tumblr hes clearly alive. or they???

my characters ass is distractingly present onscreen

huge fan of the way everyone collapsed drunk what the FUCK was in that wine

ok these sith ppl might be the bad guys but their armour is DRIPPY AS FUCK

ideologically i dont agree w the sith but they kinda went off w the fits

googling how to become a sith without being evil cause they have Drip

SESSION 2

i paid £1.19 to see revan he better show up in this game at some point

all these sith n i still cant find one revan….. stop faking ur death rn come out n talk to me babygirl this isnt like u….

why can i be light/dark side if im not a jedi. give me a laser sword

maybe this jedi gyal will know where revan is faking his death. or give me a fuckin lightsaber PLEASEEE

was just thinking 'does this game have romance' and then carth called me beautiful. i dont think im gonna romance anyone until i get this amnesia sorted

why is carth questioning me so much abt the crash im pretty sure i have amnesia

why tf did the jedi lady have me transferred to this ship are we in lesbians with each other???

carth's not wrong it is suspicious but i lowkey have amnesia so i coulda done that i coulda not

a lot of clone wars voice actors in this. was lucasfilm so broke in the 2000s that they could only afford the same 3 VAs for every project

mission is 14??????? we need to get my girl back in school

SESH 3

tale as old as time i fucking suck at racing games

ok i didnt realise you had to mash click i won

REVAN!!! REVAN!!!!!!!!!

why am i dreaming abt revan tho. real as hell but ?????

lmao cringe revan getting blown up. i thought the jedi beat rev-meister in a fight but no. accident

"such visions are often a sign of force sensitivity" COOL YAY GIVE ME A LIGHTSABER

BASTILLE LOST HER FUCKING LIGHTSABER??

CARTH IS RIGHT THATS LIKE DAY ONE JEDI SHIT. ok i still love her even tho shes a bit of a bitch and also doesnt have a saber

if we find a lightsaber im taking it first tho

whys carth getting weird abt me being weird that he doesnt trust me. i just wanna be friends mate

SESH IV: A NEW HOPE

'i mean no disrespect, but perhaps one of the male slaves could serve you better' i went in here to start a slave revolution and instead got called a lesbo

LMAO THERES A SPICE LAB???? WALTER WHITE WHERE ARE YOU

thats insaneee they blew up BILLIONS of people to get to one jedi?????? these sith arent fucking around theyre scary

UM THIS IS CRAZY GRAPHICS THE LIGHTING IS CLEARER/DARKER WHEN I COVER THE SUN W THE SHIP EDGE?? 2003 IS THE YEAR OF THE FUTURE

someone just called me padawan i kinda assumed i was in my late 20s do i just have baby vibes

all the jedi in the movies are so chill but every kotor jedi i've met so far has been a bit of a bitch

YO THEY HAVE A YODA!!! its not THE yoda but

cool so these guys are just the regional managers at best. your asses are not the council

why can everyone smell my force juju so strong

THATS STRAIGHT UP YODA'S CLONE WARS VA

why does fake yoda not blink both eyes at the same time. im calling him master tortimer he reminds me of the animal crossing mayor

bastila there was no need for such a fancy bow

malak is like evil aang

revan is so much shorter than malak omg

are me and bastila sharing dreams. are we both obsessed w revan

poor mission ):

WHAT WAS MASTER TORTIMER ABT TO SAY????????? EVER SINCE WHEN??? DID WE KNOW EACH OTHER BEFORE MY AMNESIACS????? DID BASTILA TELL U SMTHN MORE WHEN I WASNT IN THE ROOM???

im intrigued i like this whole hidden jedi shtick its very compelling. so is whatever theyre hiding from me

kinda surprising no jedi found me before tho given my force juju is so strong

IM A LEGIT JEDI NOW??? SICK!!!

does revan rlly not have pronouns i thought that was a tumblr thing but they straight up are a nonbinary icon ive never heard a single pronoun used. revan's pronouns are revan/revan's

damn revan seems so cool in these stories (charismatic war hero that convinced their troops to join them as conqueror?? julius caesar) and yet all we've seen them do onscreen is get blown up and die by accident

A YEAR AGO? the way they were talking i assumed revan died like. a week before the game started

master uh i forgot his name he has martin scorcese vibes said revan was a paragon of the jedi so what im getting is that all jedi gifted kids turn evil

even if i didnt know revan as a tumblr darling id KNOW revan has to be alive somewhere they way everyone talks abt them is too cool for a character who exploded and died. i think. i hope. I PAID £1.19 TO MEET REVAN

'only you and bastila can stop malak' seriously????? just us two?? ive been a jedi for like, 6 minutes and you guys keep calling bastila young???? do you guys not wanna help??

omg im getting carth to traumadump! <3

HE WAS ON REVAN'S ARMY>??

i totally knew the jedi code and did not have to google it whatsoever

they rlly said fuck going to illum heres a crystal from the bin

he told me id be a great sentinel and i was like i know but i want blue cause i dont wanna be matchies with bastila

OGH!!! I HAVE A LIGHTSABER!!!! THIS IS GAME OF THE YEAR!!!!

omg i made my lightsaber perfectlyyy which is rare <3 getting a good grade in jedi

maybe i was a travelling lightsaber salesman before my amnesia

seriously though WHO was i everyone's kinda stopped acting like i have amnesia since the first mission BUT IVE PLAYED DRAGON AGE THAT GIVES YOU OPPORTUNITIES TO RP UR PAST. THIS DOESNT. EITHER THIS GAME IS BAD (but i love it so its not) OR I HAVE RETROGRADE AMNESIA

also everyone keeps being like "Oh ur force juju is so strong" AND NOBODY FOUND ME TIL NOW??? suspicious. did getting a really bad concussion activate the force in me

im too confused and amnesiac'd to think abt anything except the fact i have a glowing stick now

FSESH FIVE:

big fan of using aliens to avoid having to get VAs to read every line

oh so carth's boyfriend saul betrayed him and became leader of the sith fleet so he has trust issues

well he needs to calm down. i can't betray him cause i dont know what the fuck is happening

yooo i love the design differences on the mandalorians

oh my god this lady wanted to fuck her droid cause it was her husband's. and then it killed itself. wtf. game of the year tho

wtf they jebaited this juhani person into going dark side but then i talked her out of it. that seems a bit mean of them

i hope she can join my party she looks too unique to be a random npc

ive been thinking and I might be going crazy but there was a loading screen tip ages ago that said jedis could wipe ppl's mind and all i thought at the time was 'fuck the shitshow acolyte didnt make that up'. but what if one of them wiped MY memory and i used to be a jedi or smthn ????????

cause they keep being like ur weirdly good at this??? did bastila steal my memories??????????

I KNOW I HAVE AMNESIA!! EVEN IF EVERYONE DOESN'T BRING IT UP BC THEYRE PROBABLY TRYING TO SAVE MY FEELINGS

if i dont have amnesia and im just deeping the fact the opening had my life being mansplained then im gonna look real stupid

anyway time 2 go to the fuckshit ruins cave where r-dog and malak went to

"it must be referring to revan. the dark lord and malak--" revan's pronouns are revan/thedarklord

bastila said theres no mention of the Builders in the archives. does she just know every text off by heart

THIS DROID IS 20K YEARS OLD ???

omg i can equip 2 lightsabers at once. game of the year

OK I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT THE AMNESIA BASTILA IS ASKING ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY BACKGROUND THAT I CAN ANSWER. I REPEAT I DO NOT HAVE AMNESIA

ok i didnt get choices and i didnt really uh… say anything that i didnt already get told im still not ruling out amnesia

also booo i didnt get to find out how old i was

master tortimer rlly looks like the ultimate ketamine yoda

LMAO THERE WAS A DIALOGUE OPTION 2 CALL JUHANI A CATGIRL

omg kashyyk from jedi fallen order!!!

I CAN UPGRADE MY LIGHTSABER THIS IS JUST LIKE JFO

omg this ship is fun i wish everyone had personalised bunk spaces like hfw… a game which came out 19 years after this i should probably just take what we have

im gonna start w manaan cause im p sure thats what B-dog said n its the same language the droid was speakin

omg hyperspace from star wars

THE GUY THE BUILDING FELL ON???

am i having dreams abt revan bc bastila killed revan and im connected to her this is so roundabout

maybe i'd sleep better if my ponytail wasnt clipping into the pillow

[kiwi accent] six

carth needs a xanax every time i think we're friends he stops trusting me

also lmao he actually pointed out how wild it was that a day one padawan is being sent on this uber important mission and HES RIGHT IT IS WEIRD!! i thought it was main character logic but he's calling it out

i really really like the sense of unease that's setting in like at first i thought it was just cause im not used to 2003 games but no this is on purpose bc carth my friend carth keeps calling it out

THERE IS A CHILD ON MY SHIP ??????????????????

lmao the representative for menaan is roland wann. its like poetry it rhymes

there are no cameras in the sith hangar <3 rookie error i can commit crimes now

bastila's favourite hobby is getting shot and walking into my grenades

this isnt a combat system this is a missing system

I GOT ARRESTED???? IM JUST A GIRL

nvm i had a datapad that said the sith were evil so theyve let me go free and we're besties

why do i feel like ive just walked into an underwater horror mission

this suit waddles at the speed of a penguin on fentanyl

i tamed the beastie this is like how to train your dragon

MALAK FIRED ON REVAN?????? WERENT THEY BEST FRIENDS???????

but maybe revan escaped when bastila wasnt looking THEYRE FINE THEYRE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. I BELIEVE

so hopefully when we run into revan they'll be like agh i changed my ways cause of the being shot thing and they'll be my bestie

great news i successfully communicated w the ship child and gave her back to dantooine. my girl has shockingly good linguisitics skills

bastila is so dour "oh watch out for the dark side" GIRL I AM. I NEED TO GET THE BEST GRADE IN GAME MORALITY

ok OFF TO KASHYYK i hope cal kestis is there… thru the force i guess… bc he wont be born for another 4000 years but its whatever

omg you'll never guess what. another vision. wow its one of the thangs. cool this is a tomorrow me problem

[sheliesshattered]

I'm reblogging this because I need to once again vague-post about this old friend/business partner of my dad's, whom I have codenamed "Lazlo"

(I gave him a codename specifically because he's so ridiculously Googleable and once you have his name it's a very short process of elimination to figure out my dad's name and thus me and Jack and our whole family. and I like to have some amount of online privacy, unlike some people, Lazlo.)

I met Lazlo like. twice. maybe three times. nearly 30 years ago. I do not remember what he looked like at the time, and he would only know who I am if I namedropped my dad. and then he would know instantly because yeah it was three decades ago but only like two or three companies ago, and you don't forget shit like 'the guy who you started and sold two start-ups with'

but anyway.

despite not having spoken to codename Lazlo since a year beginning with a 1, every few years he just. crosses my path. inexplicably.

and I mean, we work in semi-related fields, so it's not that surprising that we would know people in common or whatever. but no. it's never anything that normal when Lazlo suddenly bursts through the metaphorical wall of my life like the fucking Kool-Aid Man

it's always something much weirder than that. and it always seems to come in clusters that makes it feel like goddamned kaiju attacks. the last major cluster was in the summer of 2016, back when I could actually call my dad and say 'wtf why is Lazlo haunting my online existence??'

it's happened a few times since then, just scattered Lazlo sightings out in the wild, and every time I think about what I wrote in this first vague-post about him, how I'm just noticing the same guy going by in the spin-cycle of life and going wait what every fucking time. you'd think I'd get used to it. but no.

which brings me to the cluster happening now.

so a couple of weeks ago I was working my through my very slow rewatch of The West Wing, and a line from Leo McGarry caught my attention, because he mentioned a bit of 90s-invented technology that exists in our real world, but that I never stopped to think about existing in the alternate timeline of TWW. tech that, in the real world, was invented/shepherded by that phantom in my life: Lazlo

I had to pause the episode and go on a wikispiral to doublecheck, but yep, in the real world, the tech that Leo just namedropped was created by the start-up company that Lazlo founded after he sold the second of his two start-ups with my dad. the one that kind of literally caught on fire and led to a panicked phone call to my dad in ~2003, the details of which are in the tags of the post I'm reblogging.

does that mean that Lazlo exists in the universe of The West Wing?? it kind of has to, right? does that mean my dad exists in TWW, since it was the sale of their two start-ups together that allowed Lazlo to strike out on his own for the next start-up??? do I exist in TWW????

I had a moment of just staring blankly at the wikipedia article, and then went back to the episode and tried to remember wtf Leo had been saying before a single word set me off into a tailspin

so then today I find out that Lazlo is once again in the news because his company is being bought. sure, fine, in 2016 his company was the main reason that I couldn't avoid random Lazlo sightings online, couldn't even avoid him here on fucking Tumblr, so sure, his company is in the news again. fine. whatever.

but I learned about this news because the CEO of the start-up that my little company is contracting for posted it in his company's discord. with the comment that the sale is only happening because Lazlo wants to move on "and do his weird shit"

the CEO of the company that my company is contracting for does not know that I know Lazlo

and I am decidedly scared to ask what "weird shit" Lazlo might be up to this time.

My dad had a business partner in the mid and late 90s whom I met like a handful of times, he probably wouldn’t even remember my name. I mostly remember him because his last name made up part of a password my dad’s business used for a long time, you kinda had to spell it to yourself to type it correctly. In the ~20 years since, he’s repeatedly popped back up in my life in some completely different context, each one more bizarre than the last. And every single time I go what?? wHAT??? like it can’t possibly be the same guy, can it? over here too??? how does this keep happening???? No one knows. There is no sense in the universe. It’s just me, noticing the same guy going past in the spin-cycle that is life and going wait what.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2003 - i can see us lost in the memory

chapter summary: After searching for answers about his past, Logan comes back to the mansion after finding nothing at Alkali Lake. When he comes back he sees you, the only thing he can remember.

word count: 6.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i skipped x1 (mostly because i felt like i couldn't place reader into the story and have her actually make a change in it) so we're starting with x2! don't worry, next chapter is going to make you sick with tooth rotting fluff

(also thank you for 700 followers!! and happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate! <3)

warnings/tags: follows events of x2 (strays slightly), reader is a mutant with time manipulation powers, reader wears glasses, shy!reader, light violence

series masterlist - chapter 6 → chapter 8, chapter 8.5

Alkali Lake held nothing. No clues, no leads, nothing. And because of that he’s still drifting, unable to remember anything but you.

He’s not sure when the last time he saw you was, he can only remember that he’s had you 5 times and lost you 5 times.

But now… now he has nothing but fragments, barely more than dreams, and a dull ache he can’t ignore, even if he can no longer remember the details. He knows you were there, remembers the way your touch soothed him, the warmth of your voice—and each time he replays those memories, he feels something deeper, sharper, tugging at the places in him that will never mend.

---

Logan opened the doors to the mansion, Rogue walking towards him. “Logan!” She went up to hug him before quickly pulling back.

“You miss me, kid?”

“Not really.” She shook her head sarcastically.

“Hmm. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Who’s this?” Logan gestured with his head behind Rogue.

Rogue turned around, “oh, this is Bobby. He’s my- ”

“I’m her boyfriend.” Bobby cut in, shaking Logan’s hand using his ice powers, “call me Ice Man.”

Logan pulled away with a slight scowl, “right. Boyfriend? So how do you guys…?”

Bobby and Rogue shared a look, “well, we’re still working on that.” He said.

“Look who’s come back. Just in time.” Ororo spoke, as she walked down the stairs.

“For what?” Logan questioned.

“We need another babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

“Nice to see you again, Logan.” Ororo said kindly.

“Hi, Logan.” Jean spoke, announcing herself as she walked down the stairs.

Logan briefly looked her way, “Jean.”

“Uh, I should go and get the jet ready.” Ororo said quietly.

“Yeah, well, it was good to meet you.” Bobby grabbed Rogue’s hand, “come on, let’s go.”

“Bye, Logan. I’ll see- I’ll see you later!” Rogue called out.

Jean walked in front of Logan, “Storm and I are heading to Boston. We won’t be gone long. The professor wants us to track down a mutant who attacked the president.”

“So it was a mutant.” Logan responded.

“You’ll be here when we get back- unless you plan on running off again.”

Logan tilted his head slightly. “Oh, I could—” His words trailed off as he caught sight of you. The stack of papers in your hands wobbled as you came down the stairs, muttering under your breath. He watched you, the tilt of your head as you pushed your glasses back up, the way you carefully balanced the papers in your hands.

You. He knew you. He knew that face, that presence. It hit him like a punch to the gut, an undeniable recognition buried beneath layers of fractured memories. You were the only thing that came back to him clearly in all the chaos. The short-lived lives you had, and every time it ended up with you dead in his arms.

He blinked, processing, as if you’d vanish if he looked away. You glanced up, catching his stare, and you stopped mid-step, eyes widening a little.

“Oh, uh… hi,” you said, awkwardly adjusting your glasses.

“Hi,” he echoed, still staring, as if searching for something familiar in the way you moved.

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, then tried a smile. “You’re… Logan, right?”

He swallowed, feeling something catch in his throat. “Yeah. Logan.”

Breaking the tension, Scott walked down the stairs, “find what you were looking for, Logan?”

Logan barely acknowledged Scott’s words, his gaze fixed on you. The room, the people around him, the mansion itself—they all blurred, faded, became nothing more than static in the background. He knew you. The only thing he remembered clearly, despite all the fog in his mind, was you.

The stack of papers shifted in your hands as you glanced between him and Scott, your unease clear. It was like you sensed something, too, even if you couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” Logan finally replied, his voice gruff, his eyes still on you. “Thought I’d… found something. Guess not.”

Scott didn’t seem too interested in probing. “Well, welcome back. Make yourself at home.”

But Logan barely heard him. He watched as you attempted a shy smile, not quite meeting his eyes. “I… I should go.” You hesitated, lifting the papers as if they’d shield you. “It was nice meeting you, Logan.”

He nodded, his throat dry. “Same.”

You hurried past, your steps soft but quick, almost like you were escaping.

Scott raised an eyebrow at Logan, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t know you were one for the shy ones.”

Logan shot him a look that could’ve split wood, but Scott just shrugged and walked off, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

For a moment, Logan debated following you. He’d known you before; he was sure of it. And even if he couldn’t recall the exact details, there was no mistaking the pull he felt, the way his chest tightened just being in your presence. He couldn’t remember much, barely fragments, yet you were a constant. And every time, he’d lost you. Every damn time.

---

After double checking that everyone was out of their rooms, whether taken or already escaped, you made your way to the secret tunnel, hitting the paneled wall as it opened.

You saw Rogue, Bobby, John, and Logan running down the hall. “Go on,” you said, letting the kids go through before you did. You noticed no one behind you as the door slid down, closing.

“Logan!” Rogue called out.

Bobby and John had already started to run down the tunnel while you stayed by the wall, ear pressed against it trying to hear what was happening.

Rogue stayed by you, clearly worried about Logan. You opened the door quietly as Bobby and John came back. It was quiet in the hall, Logan was walking slowly toward the older man as your eyes briefly fluttered shut, pausing the intruders in time.

“Logan, come on. Let’s go.” Rogue yelled out.

“Logan,” you said gently, as he finally turned his head towards the group.

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

“But we won’t.” Rogue responded.

Logan contemplated for a few moments before walking towards you, “go. Keep going.” Logan entered the tunnel as the door closed behind him while you un-paused the men in the hall.

The five of you ran down the tunnel before climbing up a ladder to the garage. “Come on, get in. Get in!” Logan said.

You went to open the passenger door to the back when a large, warm hand landed on your waist, the grip warm and familiar even though you knew you'd never been this close to him before. Your breath hitched, and you glanced over your shoulder, only to meet his intense gaze as he gently nudged you toward the front seat. His hand lingered a second longer than it needed to, his touch almost hesitant, as if he was committing the feel of you to memory.

“Front seat, Y/N,” he murmured.

“R-Right. Thanks,” you stammered, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you slid into the passenger seat. He followed, taking his place behind the wheel, while Rogue, Bobby, and John piled into the back.

“This is Cyclops’s car.” Bobby said.

“Oh, yeah?” Logan unsheathed a singular claw, stabbing it into the ignition and turning on the car. The garage doors opened as the car sped out.

“What the hell was that back there?” John finally asked.

“Stryker.” Logan answered. “His name is Stryker.”

“Who is he?” Rogue questioned.

“I can’t remember.” Logan said quietly.

Rogue, after a few moments of silence, took off the dog tags around her wrist, passing them to Logan in the front, “here. This is yours.”

Even though you couldn’t see the kids in the back, you could tell they were uncomfortable with the silence. John leaned forward, “I don’t like uncomfortable silences.”

“What are you doing?” Rogue asked from beside him.

John turned on the radio as music played loudly from the car’s stereo’s, “bye, bye, bye…” Everyone groaned at the loud intrusion as John promptly turned it back off.

But, a small compartment opened, revealing a sleek metal device. “I don’t think that’s the CD player.” John said.

Logan grabbed it, twisting it in his hands. It blipped once, “whoa,” he muttered. Logan looked at John momentarily, “sit back.”

“Where we going?” John asked.

“Storm and Jean are in Boston. We’ll head that way.” Logan answered.

Bobby looked off to the side, “my parents live in Boston.”

“Good.” Logan said.

---

It was morning when you arrived at Bobby’s parents’ house. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, “mom! Dad! Ronny! Is anybody home?” No one responded, the house was empty. Bobby looked at Rogue, “I’ll try and find you some clothes.” Bobby then looked over at John, who was continuously flicking his lighter open, “don’t burn anything.”

Logan was in the kitchen, trying to get the phone, or comm device he wasn’t sure, to work. He put it to his ear, “hello?” Static crackled over the device, “hello?” Logan asked again. “Come on, Jean. Where are you?”

You had just freshened up a bit when the door opened, Bobby’s family entering the house, looking at Logan in the kitchen with an open beer bottle.

“Hey, Ronny, next time you…” Bobby’s father started, but stopped when he saw Logan. “Who the hell are you?”

“Uh…” Logan pointed at the stairs as Bobby ran down them.

“Bobby…?”

“Honey, aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Bobby’s mother asked. Rogue quietly walked down the stairs.

“Bobby, who is this guy?”

“Uh… this is Professor Logan.” Bobby paused before speaking again, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Soon, you all ended up in the living area, the kids and Bobby’s parents sitting down on the couch with you and Logan standing in the doorway.

“So, uh, when did you first know you were a… a…” Bobby’s mother trailed off.

“A mutant?” John spoke up, still flicking his lighter open and closed.

“Would you cut that out?” she said.

“You have to understand, we thought Bobby was going to a school for the gifted.” his father spoke.

“Bobby is gifted.” Rogue cut in.

“We know that. We just didn’t realize…”

His mother cut off her husband, “we still love you, Bobby. It’s just… this mutant problem is a little…”

“What mutant problem?” Logan interrupted, leaning against the other side of the doorway as you with his arms crossed.

“…complicated.” she finished.

Bobby’s father spoke again, “what exactly are you a professor of Mr. Logan?”

“Art.”

“Well, you should see what Bobby can do.” Rogue said.

Bobby leaned forward, gently touching his mother’s teacup with one finger as the tea turned to ice.

“Bobby…” his mother trailed off. She flipped the teacup on its side as the ice slid to the plate.

“I can do a lot more than that.”

His mother shakily put the plate and teacup on the glass table as the cat jumped up and started to lick the ice. Bobby’s brother Ronny left the room with a quiet anger.

“Ronny?” His mother called out as he went up the stairs. “This is all my fault.”

John spoke up, “actually, they discovered that males are the ones who carry the mutant gene and pass it on, so it’s his fault.”

A few moments later, the comm device started to beep. “Oh, God…” Logan took the device out of his pocket and started to walk to the sliding door, “it’s for me.”

“Bobby… have you tried… not being a mutant?” His mother asked.

Logan came back inside and locked the sliding door, “we have to go now. Now!”

“Why?” Rogue questioned. “Logan, what’s wrong?”

He walked to the front door, claws extended and you and the kids following to come face to face with police officers on the front lawn, point guns at you.

“Drop the knives and put your hands in the air.” An officer ordered from their right.

“What’s going on here?” Logan muttered.

“Ronny.” Bobby answered, coming to the realization.

“I said, drop the knives!” The officer ordered again.

Glass shattered from inside the house, “turn around! Up against the wall! Up against the wall!” An officer ordered Bobby’s parents, still in the living area.

“This is just a misunderstanding.” Logan said.

“Put the knives down!”

Logan turned to look at the officer, “I can’t. Look,” he raised his arm slowly as the officer fired a shot, straight into Logan’s forehead.

Rogue screamed and you gasped as Logan hit the patio floor.

“All right, the rest of you- on the ground now!” The same officer ordered.

You, Bobby, and Rogue slowly sank to the ground, but John stayed standing.

“Look, kid, I said on the ground!”

“We don’t want to hurt you, kid.” The officer on the other side said.

“You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about on the news?” John flicked open his lighter as you murmured his name, “I’m the worst one.” He blasted fire at the officer who shot Logan, sending him off the patio. He turned and did the same to the woman on the other side, then inside the house at the two officers.

John turned forward, blasting fire at the officers on the front lawn, the car exploding, before doing the same to another police car. A siren sounded down the street, coming to the house, as John blasted another stationary car by the front lawn, throwing the moving car off track. He blasted that car too.

Rogue, on the ground in front of you, took off her white glove and grabbed John’s ankle. The fire in his hands died off as Rogue stopped the fires surrounding the police cars and lawn.

The bullet popped out of Logan’s head as he woke up, the Blackbird slowly landing in the street. Logan stood up, cracking his neck. Bobby and the kids rushed off the stairs first, heading to the jet.

Logan instinctively put a hand on the small of your back, not pushing you or guiding you just… resting there. You took a quick glance up at him before reverting your gaze back to what was ahead of you.

John was the first one to walk up the ramp, and the first one to see Kurt turn in his chair. “Guten tag.” Kurt greeted.

The rest of you got onto the jet, buckling in, “who the hell is this?” Logan asked.

“Kurt Wagner. But in the Munich circus, I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler.”

“As, save it. Storm?”

“We’re out of here.” The engines powered up as the ship jerked slightly while taking off.

---

“How far are we?” Logan asked, walking up behind Jean’s chair.

“We’re actually coming up on the mansion now.” Jean replied, as the console started to beep.

“I’ve got two signals approaching.” Ororo said, “coming in fast.”

“Unidentified aircraft, you are ordered to descend to 20,000 feet. Return with our escort to Hanscom Air Force Base. You have ten seconds to comply.”

“Wow, somebody’s angry.” Ororo commented.

Logan looked back at John, “I wonder why.”

“We are coming up alongside you to escort you to Hanscom Air Force Base. Lower your altitude now.” The two planes come up on both sides of the jet, “repeat-lower your altitude to 20,000 feet. This is your last warning.”

The planes started to fly behind, “they’re falling back.” Ororo spoke. Rapid beeping sounded out from the console. “They’re marking us.”

“What?” Logan asked.

“They’re going to fire! Hang on!” Ororo started to fly the jet in a defensive position as they buckled into their seats. “I got to shake them.”

The jet briefly flew upside down then righted itself, “please don’t do that again.” John said.

“I agree.” Logan remarked. “Don’t we have any weapons in this heap?”

The sky started to darken as dark clouds formed, quickly turning into tornadoes. The jet started to shake from the heavy winds as Ororo tried getting the two planes off their tails.

Once their radar was clear, Ororo stopped, the sky brightening back to its natural state.

“Everybody okay back there?” Jean questioned.

“No,” Logan answered simply.

Rapid beeping sounded out from the console once again, “oh, my God, there’s two of them,” Ororo said. Jean used her powers and took out one of the missiles, “there’s one more.” The remaining missile continued flying closer to them, “Jean?”

Jean gasped, “oh, God!” At the last second, Jean directed the missile slightly up, causing the back end of the jet to blow open.

Rogue, who wasn’t buckled in, flew out the back as Bobby yelled for her. Kurt briefly looked back before disappearing and then reappearing in the jet, right by the pilot’s seat next to Ororo and Jean as the jet nosedived.

The panels in the ship began to crackle as metal creaked and the back of the jet repaired itself. “Jean?” Ororo asked.

“It’s not me.” Jean answered, as the jet suddenly stopped, hovering over an older man and woman you didn’t recognize.

---

You had your head and arms buried deep into the jet's console, a strand of hair falling in front of your face as you tried to twist one more wire into place. The tech was scrambled from the missile hit, panels still flickering with bursts of static, and while it wasn’t exactly in your wheelhouse, you knew enough to give it a try. Besides, it kept your hands busy while the rest of the team talked to Erik around the fire and the kids set up tents.

After some time, you walked down the stairs of the jet, mostly for a small break from the incessant lighting and saw Logan smoking a cigar by the ramp. You almost turned around and walked back up, until he turned to look at you, more than halfway down the stairs.

You gulped and played with the tool in your hands as Logan looked at his cigar briefly, noticing the smoke was frozen in the air. He turned his gaze to the trees nearby also taking note that they were frozen as well; no wind blowing through their leaves.

“Ya always freeze time when you get nervous?” Logan tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you, trapped in your own nervous suspension of time. You gave a tight, embarrassed smile, the tool in your hands twisting around your fingers as you took a deep breath and forced yourself to let go of the freeze.

“No. Only sometimes,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat. The trees resumed their gentle sway, and the smoke from his cigar curled upward lazily again. Logan watched the subtle shift, something almost playful glinting in his gaze.

He took another drag of his cigar, eyes not leaving you. “So, what’s got you nervous?”

Your fingers fumbled with the tool. “It’s, um… I don’t usually come across people who…” You trailed off, looking down at your hands.

Truth was, he made you nervous. Why wouldn’t he? He was… a lot of things, and in the few days you have known him you couldn’t help but feel more reserved than usual.

Logan leaned back against the ramp, watching you with a calm expression, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Care to be more specific?” He seemed content to let you fumble, patient in a way that only made your pulse quicken more.

You shrugged, pretending to focus on the tool in your hands. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the… whole mysterious, intense thing you’ve got going. That, and the fact that I accidentally freeze time whenever you look at me like that.”

He raised an eyebrow, letting out a low chuckle. “Like what?”

“Like…” You trailed off, finally looking up at him. “Like you’re trying to figure something out, but I’m not sure I want to know what.”

“Maybe I am,” Logan said, taking a drag of his cigar. His eyes softened a bit, and you felt a warmth settle over you. He didn’t push, didn’t pry—just waited. After all, patience was one of the many things he’d perfected over the years.

You shifted on your feet, glancing down to where your fingers had turned the wrench over and over, antsy. “Maybe I just don’t know what to make of you,” you murmured, feeling the weight of his gaze again.

“Guess that makes two of us,” he replied, his voice low. There was something unspoken in his words, something you couldn’t quite name.

The silence stretched out, and then, because there was something about the way he looked at you that felt like an invitation, you spoke. “Why’d you come out here, anyway? I thought you were all about avoiding everyone else.”

Logan flicked some ash off the end of his cigar. “Maybe I was gettin’ tired of avoidin’ things.” He paused, looking out toward the treeline, then back at you. “Or maybe I just wanted to see if you’d freeze time again.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Not exactly something I can control.”

“Good to know,” Logan replied, smirking. He took another puff, the smoke curling up in wisps around him. “So, are you fixin’ that thing, or just givin’ it the ol’ college try?”

You looked back at the jet, the half-repaired panel flickering with static. “Oh, definitely just winging it.”

Logan chuckled, the sound rich and deep, and for a moment, the tension seemed to ease. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a ‘wing it’ type.”

You shrugged, biting back a smirk. “I’m full of surprises.”

The easy conversation brought a hint of a grin to his face, something warm and fleeting, and he tilted his head toward the jet. “C’mon, let’s see what else you can do, winging it.” He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging you.

You looked at him, then back at the jet, a bit of excitement tingling under your skin. “Alright, Logan. Let’s see what we can fix.”

---

“Stay with the kids.” Jean said. You opened your mouth to argue, you weren’t a child, yet it seemed like every mission you were treated like one. Never allowed on the field, never even brought in on a debriefing.

The rest of the group, other than Mystique who was already in the base, were outside the jet, making their way into Alkali Base. You were supposed to stay behind with Rogue, Bobby, and John.

“But, Jean—” you started, voice catching on the frustrated protest that lingered in your chest.

Jean turned, a hand on her hip and an exasperated look that was all too familiar. “We’ve talked about this, Y/N. You’re here to look after them.”

“Right,” you muttered, crossing your arms, your gaze falling on the others, who were half paying attention, half pretending not to notice. Rogue’s worried glance lingered on you; Bobby looked between you and the hallway where the rest of the team had disappeared.

Jean’s expression softened just slightly. “This isn’t a punishment, okay? The kids need someone they trust to keep them safe.”

You glanced at Logan, who gave you a slight nod, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Fine,” you mumbled, “I’ll stay with them.”

Jean pressed a reassuring hand to your shoulder. “We’ll be back soon.” She turned to catch up with the others, her footsteps echoing as they faded into the depths of the base.

Logan lingered for a moment, gaze unwavering. He looked at you for a beat too long, and something tightened in his expression. He gave a faint nod before heading off.

As the rest of the team disappeared down the corridor, John grinned, clearly amused by your frustration. "Looks like you got a babysitting gig, huh?"

You shot him a withering look, but Rogue was quick to jump in. "It's not like that, John."

“Could be worse,” Bobby added, trying to lighten the mood, “at least we’re safe here.”

You leaned against the cold metal wall, fingers tapping the console out of habit. “Yeah,” you replied, though your voice held none of the certainty you tried to convey.

From the depths of the corridor, Logan’s scent still lingered faintly in the air. You felt the tug of something unexplainable—a pull toward him that you’d noticed ever since he first set foot in the mansion. It was like trying to remember something you knew you’d forgotten.

Your hand, almost of its own accord, clenched into a fist, feeling the temptation to slow time, to buy a few seconds to gather your thoughts and process what lingered between you and Logan. But with Rogue, Bobby, and John right there, you resisted, focusing on keeping things steady.

And, yet, as you listened to the faint sounds echoing down the hall, a deep sense of restlessness settled in your chest.

---

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly from the water before disappearing as quickly as it came.

“She’s gone,” Ororo said quietly.

The vision broke your focus as you flew the jet, the emergency landing protocol activated as it landed harshly, Rogue and Bobby standing in the cockpit by your seat.

A whoosh made you turn to the side to see Kurt putting Charles down in a seat. Kids started to climb up the stairs into the ramp as Ororo came by your side, “I got this, Y/N,” she said gently.

You let out a few more heavy breaths before standing up from the pilot’s seat, letting Ororo take your place.

As Scott fiddled with some of the controls, Charles spoke up, “Scott, we’ve got to get to Washington. I fear this has gone beyond Alkali Lake.”

Logan finally climbed up the stairs, a young boy in his arms, “Bobby.”

“Hey, I got him,” Bobby replied, carefully taking the boy from Logan’s arms.

Logan watched for a moment as Bobby wrapped an arm around the kid, murmuring something reassuring to him. When the boy seemed to relax, Logan shifted his gaze to you, lingering just a beat too long, that same unreadable look in his eyes.

The jet was buzzing with energy as everyone settled in, but his eyes never left yours. You felt it, that weight, the unspoken thing hanging between you both ever since you met. The others didn’t seem to notice—Bobby was focused on the kid, Rogue was buckling in, and Ororo and Scott were adjusting settings on the console. But Logan, he was watching you, something intense simmering beneath his stoic expression.

You tried to brush it off, focusing on the quiet hum of the jet as it prepared for takeoff. But that pull was there, like something forgotten tugging at your memory, or maybe… not forgotten, exactly. Maybe something you’d never known.

Finally, unable to help yourself, you looked back at him. “What?” you asked softly, half a smile on your lips to cover the nervous energy prickling at the base of your spine.

Logan didn’t smile back. “Nothing,” he replied, voice rough. But his gaze softened, just barely, and there was a glimmer of something warm. “Just making sure you’re alright.”

His words were casual, but you caught the faintest edge of something… familiar. Like a memory you couldn’t quite touch. You felt your fingers twitch, the familiar itch to pull time in around you, but you held back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear as you tried to shake off the strange feeling. “Thanks for asking.”

Logan nodded, but his gaze didn’t waver. He watched you for a beat longer, almost as if he were searching for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it—or maybe he did but decided not to say. Instead, he moved forward to Ororo, where her and Scott were trying to power the engines.

“What’s wrong?” Logan questioned.

“Vertical thrusters are offline.” Scott answered.

“So fix ’em.”

“I’m trying.”

“Hey, has anyone seen John?” Rogue called out.

“Pyro?” Logan asked. “Where the hell is he?”

“He’s with Magneto.” Jean replied.

“…but I don’t know how long they’re going to last.”

“I’m trying to override, but it’s not responding.” Scott grunted, “come on!”

“Oh, no, we’ve lost the power.” Ororo said.

“It’s coming. Come on!”

“There’s power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

“Jean,” you whispered under your breath, too scared to act, fearing what would happen if you intervened. Instead, you watched as she walked down the ramp of the jet, glancing at the group one last time.

Charles tilted his head slightly to the side, “Jean?”

“Wait, where’s Jean?” Logan asked.

“She’s outside.” Charles said.

Scott bolted up from his seat to the ramp, but it closed as he got there, separating Jean from the rest of them. The consoles lit up as the engines came back online.

“No! We’re not leaving! Lower the ramp! Storm, lower it!” Scott yelled.

“I can’t!” She replied.

The water finally washed over to them, but because of Jean and her telekinesis it went around her.

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly-

“-power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

As Jean walked toward the ramp, you reached out and grabbed her forearm, halting her determined steps. Her head turned, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, her eyes softened. There was a weariness, a resignation in her look that you couldn’t ignore.

“Jean,” you whispered, tightening your grip. “There has to be another way.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away, staring into the distance. The ramp was only steps away, but she hadn’t pulled her arm free. “It’s the only way to save everyone,” she said, her voice barely audible, as if speaking louder would shatter whatever resolve she had left.

“I’m not gonna let you die,” you spoke quietly.

Jean tilted her head, looking at the cockpit one more time before back at you, “you rewound. Didn’t you?” She hadn’t tried to pull away, and you could feel the rapid beat of her pulse through your grip on her arm. She knew. Somehow, she’d pieced it together—how you’d rewound, maybe even more than once.

“Yes,” you replied softly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the jet, “but this time—”

“This time won’t be any different,” Jean cut in, a trace of regret in her tone. “Some things… you can’t just rewind.”

You tightened your grip, not willing to let go. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe it has to end like this.”

Her gaze softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that you couldn’t bear. “You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “We’re a team, Jean. You can power on the jet, and I can pause the water.”

She looked away, clearly weighing every word you said against her own grim resolve, then back at you with a look of resigned understanding. "You don’t understand, Y/N. This—" she gestured to the waters crashing around them, then down to her own chest, her hand resting over her heart—"what’s happening to me... it’s too much. It’s a flood I can’t hold back.”

You could feel her pulse, still wild beneath your hand, and the memory of her last words echoed in your mind. "You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

But she wasn’t gone, not yet, and the desperation that rose inside you felt like a fight against fate itself. “Jean, I’ve seen things go wrong before.” The words slipped out, the ghost of a memory that you couldn’t quite catch. “But I can feel it this time… we don’t have to lose you. Just trust me.”

For a moment, Jean’s gaze softened, and her grip on her resolve wavered. “Y/N…” she started, and you caught a glimmer of something in her eyes—gratitude, or maybe even hope. Her hand rested lightly over yours, though you could feel her power humming beneath her skin. “Alright,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible. “But if something goes wrong… if it’s too much…”

You cut her off, squeezing her hand tighter. “Then we find another way. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

With a quick nod from Jean, you focused your energy, feeling time ripple and bend beneath your skin. Jean closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she took in the extra moments you’d gifted her, enough to gather her power without tearing herself apart in the process.

Outside the jet, the water slowed, hovering just a few inches away from the plane, frozen in time. Everyone held their breath, the hum of the jet's engines amplified in the stillness. Scott turned back to the controls, guiding the jet forward through the suspended water. “It’s working,” he murmured, almost to himself. "We’re moving.”

In the cockpit, you felt your pulse race as you held the time bubble steady, feeling the strain build in your bones. This level of control was more intense than anything you’d managed before, but you pushed yourself to hold on, the determination to keep Jean and everyone safe steeling your resolve.

The jet jolted slightly as it broke through the edge of the water and rose higher, out of immediate danger. But the strain was starting to build, the sheer amount of energy it took to hold everything at bay beginning to wear on you. Your hand slipped, and you nearly stumbled, but before you could lose your focus entirely, a strong hand caught your arm.

Logan was at your side, his face mere inches from yours, concern laced in his voice. “You good?” he asked, his grip grounding you.

“Yeah… just give me a sec.” You took a breath, focusing on the feel of his hand, the warmth in his touch that felt familiar in a way you couldn’t explain. With that small, grounding connection, you found the strength to hold the time bubble for a few seconds more.

When the jet was finally clear, you released the grip on time, and the rush of water resumed its course beneath them. You staggered slightly, feeling a rush of exhaustion course through you, but Logan’s arm was still steady around you, even as you fell to the ground, your eyes fluttering shut.

Logan’s grip tightened as you slumped back, your breath shuddering as exhaustion swept over you. His hand was warm, rough fingers gently brushing against your cheek, bringing you back just enough to the moment. Your back was draped over his knees, your pulse still racing as you struggled to catch your breath. The world was a muted blur, but his voice broke through, steady and low, anchoring you.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow circle on your cheek. “You’re alright. I got you.”

It was only his words, and the softness in them, that made you blink back the haze of exhaustion. As your vision cleared, you saw his face just inches from yours, an intensity in his gaze that seemed to search for something… something deeper than he was saying.

“Logan,” you whispered, not sure why his name slipped out so easily or why it felt so familiar, as if you’d said it before, in another life or another time. But the look he gave you held a weight you couldn’t name, a history you couldn’t remember.

“You with me?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper, but beneath it, there was something else, something almost pleading. He waited as you blinked up at him, your pulse slowly settling, tethered by his touch. “Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You tried to push yourself up, but the strain of holding time around the jet had left your muscles aching, feeling drained in a way you’d never experienced before. Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened, steadying you, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, feeling his warmth.

His face softened, a flicker of relief crossing his expression, though he didn’t let go. “You pulled us out of that mess,” he said, his voice low, and for a second, something raw flickered in his eyes. “What were you thinking? Freezing the water like that—it could’ve knocked you out cold.”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t just watch Jean go.” You inhaled deeply, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced toward the cockpit, where Jean’s quiet breathing filled the jet with a fragile peace. “I couldn’t let her do it alone.”

Logan gave a slow nod, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. You felt the intensity of his gaze, as if he was seeing something beyond what you could understand. There was a warmth to it, one that made your heart stutter, something deep and unexplainably familiar. He paused, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. “You’ve always been this way… haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, thrown by the hint of something personal, something he couldn’t quite put into words. He dropped his hand from your face, settling it on your shoulder, but you could still feel the warmth lingering where he’d touched you.

“Never mind.” He looked away, his expression unreadable. But his hand remained steady on your shoulder, grounding you as the jet finally stabilized, the engines humming to life. You could hear the others bustling around, but for this moment, it was just the two of you, a silent understanding hovering between you.

“Logan…?” you started, not sure what you wanted to say or why his presence felt so deeply familiar. He turned back, a question in his eyes, as if he were waiting for something. But the words wouldn’t come. How could you ask him about a feeling you didn’t understand? About a memory that didn’t exist?

Instead, you exhaled, letting the silence fill the space between you. “Thank you.”

He watched you, his gaze lingering on your face, as if there were a thousand things he wanted to say. But he only nodded, a soft look crossing his face, one that felt almost like longing.

“Anytime,” he murmured, his hand finally slipping away, leaving a chill in its place.

“Y/N, you good back there?” Ororo’s voice broke the spell, and you managed a nod, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Yeah. Just… catching my breath.” You gave her a small smile, forcing your muscles to relax, even as your heart was still pounding. Logan stood, his gaze lingering on you for a beat before he moved to check on the others. But before he left, he looked back at you, his eyes holding a silent promise, a feeling that maybe—just maybe—he was still there, still watching over you.

---

A storm crackled outside thanks to Ororo and everyone around the group was frozen in time courtesy of you.

“Good morning, Mr. President.” Charles said. The President looked over to the side where Kurt was crouched on a small table. He began to stand up slowly, “please, don’t be alarmed. We’re not going to harm anyone.”

“Who are you people?”

“We’re mutants. My name is Charles Xavier. Please, sit down.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Rogue.” Charles briefly glanced over at her, as she placed a large file onto the President’s desk. “These files were taken from the private offices of William Stryker.”

The President started to flip through the file, “how did you get this?”

“Well, let’s just say I know a little girl who can walk through walls.” Charles said, as the President looked over at Kurt who let out a quiet snicker. He finally sat back down.

“I’ve never seen this information.”

“I know.”

“Then you also know I don’t respond well to threats.”

“Mr. President, this is not a threat, this is an opportunity. There are forces in this world, both mutant and human alike, who believe that a war is coming. You’ll see from those files that some have already tried to start one. And there have been casualties. Losses on both sides. Mr. President, what you are about to tell the world is true. This is a moment. A moment to repeat the mistakes of the past, or to work together for a better future. We’re here to stay, Mr. President. The next move is yours.”

“We’ll be watching,” Logan said.

logan is around 171 years old (but at this point in the story, he doesn't really know how old he is so it's kinda irrelevant now) and reader is around 26 years old

[ireid]

THE NOTEBOOK | spencer reid x female reader

summary: you and spencer reid are married and you have a daughter, mia. one day you decide to stay home while the both of them went out to spend some time together. you decided to do some decluttering and you find his notebook. you read all the letters he wrote to maeve.

pairing: spencer reid x female reader

word count: 4,8k

content warnings: fluff/angst. mention of someone passing away.

author's note: i wrote this after a movie i saw a few days ago. my dear friend jem (@/blvrrface on twitter) wrote this with me. a bot about this will be out soon, too! my cai account is @/ohmyreid. you can get updates on my twitter account @/spookyrydel. it's my first time writing a one shot so i hope you all will enjoy! 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

“You sure you don’t wanna tag along?” Spencer asks you, as he was fixing Mia’s curly hair in a (really messy) braid. You nodded.

“Positive. You two can go and have your fun. You have been out for a few days. I’m going to give you some daddy-daughter moments alone.” You reply, giving him a sweet smile, before looking down at Mia, who was already pouting.

“But mommy–” she starts, giving you her usual puppy eyes. “You don’t want ice cream?” You sigh, before booping her nose with your finger. “Not today peanut. Mommy has things to do.” “Actually mommy just wants to relax.” Spencer says, slightly teasing you. You raise your eyebrows.

“That, too. And I told you I want to clean up a bit. We have too many things in our closets.”

“Don’t–” He starts saying, pointing his finger at you, knowing he was starting to be sassy. You interrupt him.

“I’m not throwing away your Doctor Who action figures. Don’t worry.” “I wasn’t about to say that.” He lied, trying to hold back a smile. “Come on sweetie, we are ready. Let’s go get some ice cream and then we’ll go to the science museum. And mommy will miss all the fun.” He says, before Mia sticks her tongue out at you. You laugh.

“I will miss all the fun, I know.” You sarcastically say, gently fixing Mia’s hair since Spencer made a mess. “But I will wait for you two to come back home. And we can watch Barbie?” “Barbie in the nutcracker?” Mia asks, pouting again. As if you two are able to say no to that adorable face. You smile.

“That one. Come on, go before it’s late. Have fun without me.” You say, giving Mia a kiss on her forehead, making her giggle.

“We will.” Spencer smugly says, holding Mia’s hand. Before leaving he gives you a quick peck on your lips. “Relax a bit too. You deserve it.” “Do I?” You ask, raising your eyebrows, before giving him another quick kiss. “And you have fun. You deserve it, too.” “Bye mommy! We will see you later! I love you!” Mia says, waving at you.

“See you later peanut. Be good for daddy, okay? Love you more.” “What about me?” Spencer asks, with a fake pout. You laugh.

“Yeah, love you too. Come on, go.”

He smiles. “Love you more. See you when we come back”. He says, before they both leave.

You sigh. It feels weird being home alone, it barely happens. But sometimes you need time for yourself– and those closets won’t be emptied on their own. It was supposed to be a quiet, simple kind of day. It barely happens that you are home alone so you decided to take care of yourself, clean up your house a bit and just make beauty masks, have a glass of wine and watch some trashy tv show.

You started with yours and Spencer’s closet, putting away some old clothes to give those to people that needed them. Then you cleaned up Mia’s closet too, a nostalgic feeling spreading through your bones. It seemed like yesterday that she was born and she is already four years old.

Strange how time passes.

Now you were just trying to clean up the guest room closet. The one that had slowly morphed into a museum of Spencer’s past—boxes of books, stacks of old FBI files, that one cardigan he swore he lost but you knew was buried somewhere under a psychology textbook from 2003…

But then something catches your attention.

It was tucked beneath some old clothes. The cover was worn leather, the spine frayed. No title. No label. Just a rubber band wrapped twice around it. It was a notebook that belonged to Spencer.

You didn’t mean to look. You really didn’t. But curiosity got you so you opened it.

You immediately saw her name.

Maeve.

And the first line of the first page felt like it reached into your chest and twisted something deep inside.

“Maeve,

I never got to say goodbye. So I will write to you instead. Hoping you’ll read this whenever you are (I hope it’s in Heaven).

I’m not sure if this helps or hurts. Maybe both. But I have to keep you somewhere, and, even if I have an eidetic memory, my memory isn’t reliable when it comes to feelings. Mostly when it comes to you.”

-----

“Maeve,

I met someone a few weeks ago. I was drinking my usual too-sweet black coffee when I heard someone arguing over the phone. I didn’t mean to make her feel uncomfortable but when she hung up she was crying. So I offered her a hot chocolate and asked her what’s wrong. I usually don’t do these things but I felt really sorry for her.

She’s… she’s not like you. I don’t mean that in a bad way. She’s loud. And messy. She sings off-key in the street while we walk and doesn’t know what to do with silence.

But when she smiles at me, it’s like I finally learned a new language after years of only speaking grief.

Sometimes I wonder if you’d be angry. If you’d think I moved on too fast. But then I remember what you told me in my dream—that you wanted me to live. I’m trying, Maeve. I’m really trying.”

-----

“Maeve,

Something unexpected happened. I couldn’t even believe my own ears when I asked her to go out with me. We did hang out sometimes in that coffee place we met and then walked around, but it wasn’t something super serious.

I asked Penelope what to do in this kind of situation and she told me that I should ask her out for a romantic dinner. Is that how it works?

I also read an academic article just in case.

I really don’t know. I didn’t even get to have a romantic dinner with you. I’m still a newbie in these kinds of things.

But she said yes. No, she said exactly: “A date? That would be awesome”. That’s what she said. I guess she is excited, right? Because I didn’t get to sleep last night. At all. What if she doesn’t like me in that way? What if I’m not ready?

Is it too early for me to move on from you? I wish you could answer. It has been two years but it still feels like yesterday when I lost you. What if I’m using her just to feel the void that you left? I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t think I would be able to forgive myself.

But I really like her. I like her smile, her hair. I like her sense of humor, even if sometimes I can’t totally get it. My stomach hurts when I think about her. Scientifically speaking, this is the result of the abnormal anxiety that I have been feeling since the moment I asked her (three days ago), but romantically speaking… I think those are actually butterflies. Or whatever romantic people call them.

I’m going to pick her up in half an hour. I really don’t like driving but I want to be a gentleman. I got her flowers, too. She mentioned that she didn’t like roses so I got her tulips. I hope she’ll like them.

I hope she’ll like me.

She feels like when you are cold and a ray of sunshine gently hits your face.

I hope I’m not sounding too sappy.

I still miss you. I hope you and Merton are good friends up there.”

————

“Maeve,

I’m sorry if I reach out twice in the same day, but I just wanted to tell you that the date was magical. I brought her to an Italian restaurant and the food was delicious. She is the most beautiful person in the whole world (don’t be mad, I think you were really beautiful, too. You must still be).

She really liked the flowers and I guess she really likes me too since we kissed.

I mean, she kissed me. I couldn’t stop rambling when I brought her home and she decided to shut me up in the sweetest way ever.

I’m glad she did it. I wouldn’t have the courage to do that.

I can still feel her cherry lipstick on my lips.

I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep tonight.

I can’t wait to kiss her again.

I hope you are doing fine with all the angels in Heaven. Thank you for being here for me.”

-----

“Maeve,

She stayed the night last week.

We didn’t sleep. Not in the way you think. We talked. For hours. She fell asleep on my shoulder while I read her a short story by Stephen King. I think you’d like her. She listens.

But she also argues. A lot. With this look on her face like she’s daring me to be smarter than her. Sometimes I let her win.

I laugh around her. Do you know how strange that feels? Laughing again?”

-----

“Maeve,

We just had a fight. Our first big fight.

It’s so strange to say —

I mean, we argued before, but nothing too serious.

Now we fought, she cried and I was just frozen in place, I didn’t know what to do.

She told me that every time I’m out for work she worries too much, because anything could happen to me.

I hate having an eidetic memory because I remember every single one of her words, she said: “Didn’t you wish to become a teacher? As you always said? Because I don't understand why you keep putting yourself in danger every day. You want to have a family some day, but you don't even know if you will come back home when you walk out of that door”.

I said that I get her point of view, but I also told her that she doesn’t understand me — she cut me off immediately after this. She said that I’m the one who doesn’t understand, and that she needs some time alone.

Did I screw it up, Maeve?”

⸻

“I wanted to update you about my last letter. I didn’t screw it up, apparently.

Right after I wrote to you I decided to act on it and try to fix things, so I went to her place with her favourite food and I told her I’m sorry if it seems like I don't care about what she thinks.

She told me that she was sorry too, that she understands that I love helping people, and that she will try to understand, even if she won't ever accept that I put my own life in danger.

But I think that's because she cares about me, right?

We ate the food together and cuddled in bed, I didn’t even think about the germs!

I think I love her.”

-----

“Maeve.

We have been together for six months now, I love her. Not in the same way I loved you, but I’m in love with her just the same as I was with you. You just can't love two people in the same way, you know? But she makes me happy, she makes me breathe again. I just love her.

When she kisses me she always smiles, and then she jokes and makes fun of me all the time — but she doesn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s refreshing, you know? She keeps me on my toes, and challenges me every time.

Sometimes I’m scared we are too different, but then she snuggles on me whispering how much she loves me, and I feel at peace again. Maybe we are meant to be.

Did you send her to me, Maeve? Thank you if you did, you gave me back my life.”

-----

“Maeve,

She moved in today, we have been together for one year. Is it rushed?

Maybe, but it feels right with her.

I always imagined my life with someone calmer, but maybe I was meant for noises all around me.

You should hear how she sings when she is cooking. She is the worst singer I have ever heard — but somehow I would listen to that tune all day, forever.

I guess I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy. How is it going in heaven? Are you playing chess with Einstein? I root for you.”

-----

“Maeve,

I hope I’m not bothering you. Sorry if my letters aren’t really constant but life has been chaotic lately. Remember when I told you that she moved in with me? Now we have been living together for more than a year, but my apartment started being really small for the both of us.

We started house hunting. I didn’t think it could be so stressful. Some houses were too old, some too modern— and you know how I feel about modernity. Some houses were in really dangerous neighborhoods and I didn’t want us to live there. Also what if we end up having a family? I don’t want my kids to be in danger.

Or maybe I’m just daydreaming now. I’m a logical person but when it comes to her even the stars seem closer to me. Which isn’t technically possible— but you get me.

God Maeve, I wish you could have seen the smile on her face when I agreed to purchase that green couch that she loved so much. I didn’t really like it (don’t tell her that) but I’d give up everything just to see her face lighting up, even just a bit.

We have been having small arguments on furniture and decorations for weeks. But at the end of the day, I’m still the happiest man ever and I feel lucky, even if that means that I’ll have to carry too many boxes.

It’s our first night here in the new house— our new house. It still feels weird to say that.

Our new house.

I hope you are happy for me, but I know that you are. I still think you sent her to me as a blessing.

I hope you are still working on your research.

And sorry if I talk about her too much. She is just my everything.”

-----

“Maeve,

I bought her a ring. I didn’t think that diamond rings could be so expensive. But when I saw it I just knew it belonged to her. Actually both Penelope and JJ helped me. They have been trying to investigate for me for weeks and they found out that she was looking for rings and wedding gowns on her Pinterest page.

I have been wanting to do this for a while. We have been together for such a long time.

Today is also the anniversary of your death. It has been five years since that day. I went to the cemetery on my own and I talked to you (to your grave, at least. But I like to think that you were listening). I cried, a lot. I haven’t been crying this much for some time.

I didn’t even get the chance to say I love you back. But I did. And a part of me will always love you, no matter what.

But I love her endlessly. I didn’t think that I would be able to feel something this big and tremendous for someone. She changed the structure of my heart.

I have been having this ring for a few weeks and she is completely oblivious about it. It’s starting to feel heavy in my pants’ pocket but I want the proposal to be special.

I’m probably going to take her to the same restaurant where we had our first date and then to the beach. It’s her favorite place— I mean, I really don’t get the appeal of having sand everywhere, but she loves it.

I think I’m going to do it tomorrow. God, she doesn’t know anything. She thinks we are just going out as we usually do every weekend when I’m not working on a case.

I’m really nervous. What if she says no? I don’t think I will handle it.

But she won’t, right?

I hope you will be here with us at the beach, maybe in between the waves. I need you to be here with me. It’s going to be one of the most important moments of my whole life.

All I want is for her to say yes.

I’ll keep you updated.

I hope you are happy up there.”

-----

“Maeve,

she said yes. I know that you knew, because I could feel your presence there. Maybe I’m crazy but I just know you were looking at us with a big smile on your face.

After dinner I took her to the beach as I wanted to and we were just walking, hand in hand, while she was rambling about what happened today at her workplace.

I wasn’t really listening (which I’m sorry for) because I couldn’t wait to get on my knee and ask her to be my wife.

So I did that.

I tripped over my own foot and my eyes were glossy all the time. I tried to come up with something romantic to say but she kept on saying “oh my god stop” and she just kept on crying.

So I cried too.

Then I asked her to be mine forever and she said yes.

She said yes, Maeve. Can you believe it? Can you believe that someone wants to spend their life with me?

If it’s a dream I hope I never wake up.

She is now talking with her friends on the phone, showing them her rings. I can hear them screaming from here.

I can’t wait to marry her.

I’ll send you an invitation.

Sometimes I still feel guilty but then I look at her and I realize that I feel alive.

Talk to you soon.”

-----

“Maeve,

We just came back from our honeymoon — with “just” I mean it’s already been a week from that day when we stepped foot back in our home. I didn’t have time to write to you, jet lag has been crazy. How can people deal with that?

We spent two weeks around Europe. Paris first, then around Italy and lastly in London.

I thought she hated the idea of walking around cities all day, but she was happy as long as she had a pastry in her hands, even if she made me eat most of it anyway. I think I gained a couple of pounds, you know? I have always been a little too skinny anyway, so maybe it’s for the best. I would call those happy pounds.

The days right before the wedding have been the most anxious days of my life, but the moment I saw her walking down the aisle it was like… breathing for the first time — even if she took my breath away.

She has always been stunning to me, but maybe I fell a little more in love after seeing her in that white dress.

By the way, the honeymoon was magical. We saw so many places and took so many pictures.

I wanted to visit Greece as well, but we didn’t have much time for it. Hopefully we will go there soon.

She also stopped every two seconds to pet every stray cat or dog we met, isn’t she the sweetest?

I wish I could show you the pictures she took of me, and the ones we took together.

Could you see us walking down the streets of Paris from up there? I think we are beautiful together, at least everyone told us so.”

-----

“Maeve,

I’m going to be a dad. I wanted to write something else before being so blunt but I wanted to tell you as soon as possible.

I’m going to be a dad. She is pregnant.

She has been keeping this from me for a few weeks. I did pick up on the fact that she was just drinking water and that she stopped eating sushi (I thought she actually had a stomach bug). Then when I came back earlier from a case in New Jersey she wanted me to solve a riddle. I didn’t even think about the fact that she was trying to make me say the word “baby” for half an hour. Then I realized.

I cried, Maeve. I couldn’t believe it. How is this happening to me? Is this what happiness feels like?

She cried a lot, too. Then we hugged. I wanted to hold her super tightly but I didn’t want to hurt the baby. Our baby.

Can you believe it? I always wanted to be a dad. Is it possible to already love someone so much even if they aren’t even a formed human being yet?

I’m going to protect them from everything. I’m going to be the perfect dad— I have to.

I don’t want to be like mine. I would never give up on my child and on my wife. I want to give them the whole world.

I’m going to wake up really early tomorrow morning so I can go to the library and read as many things as possible on pregnancy and newborns.

Do you think I will be good at this? God, I hope so. I don’t even know what I did to deserve this— all of this. This is something too precious. I hope I won’t ruin it.

I love her, Maeve. And I love those little cells inside her already. I feel like my heart is going to burst.

I can’t wait to meet him. Or her. I don’t care as long as they are healthy.

I didn’t think I would have another chance at this after you passed away but I was wrong.

She proved me wrong so many times, and now she is carrying our child.

I hope you’ll watch over the three (two and a half now) of us from there.”

-----

“Maeve,

I’m really sorry for not reaching out as I once used to. Our little girl is keeping us occupied— and her mom, too. Our baby is actually a girl, did I mention that? I wish I could show you the ultrasound pictures. She looks so small and I can’t wait to hold her.

Her mom’s belly is growing everyday and it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I still can’t believe she is carrying the life we created together.

Sometimes she lashes out at me but I read it’s normal. It’s the pregnancy hormones. But it’s okay, I’m not the one having a tiny human in his belly.

I’m trying to be the perfect husband as soon-to-be-dad for both of them. Sometimes the cravings are too weird and disgusting but I deal with them easily.

Our baby is growing and she is healthy.

I’m loving this journey.

I hope you are proud of me and that you won’t be mad because I moved on from you.

But I know you won’t.

You sent them to me, after all.”

-----

“Maeve,

The most beautiful thing in the world just happened to me.

My daughter. She is born.

Can you believe it? I’m a dad. D-A-D.

God, it still sounds insane to me.

Her name is Mia Diana Reid.

Mia means “mine” in Italian, but I read that it's a shortened form of the Hebrew name Maria, which itself is derived from Miryam. I didn’t really like those names, so we decided that Mia was perfect.

And Diana because, well, you know, it’s my mom’s name. I’m still scared that someday she would wake up without even remembering my name, so giving her that name I think was a sort of coping mechanism.

At least I will always have her.

She was born on August 1st, I think it's a beautiful day to be born in, because she reminds me of the summer.

My wife says that Mia is a leo, and that means that she will grow up confident and sure of herself. I know nothing about astrology, but I trust her, I hope she is right. She is really into those things.

She was a mess after the delivery, so I had to hold her and comfort her, convincing her to rest — not that I’m complaining about it.

When I held Mia the first time it was the most amazing feeling in the world, I didn’t think my heart could take that much joy.

I hope I will be a good father, Maeve. I’m a bit scared about it, but she keeps saying I’m already great at it.

I didn’t sleep at all last night, I just held Mia and I didn’t want to let her go, I’m scared I might wake up just to realise nothing has ever been real.

Hopefully I’m very much awake.”

After all those pages you just stood there, speechless after those words. You kept on touching the pages over and over again. You are not upset, why should you? I mean, he always said the best things about you, it’s not like he said anything hurtful.

Before you can even decide what to do, if talk to him about it or pretend you never saw anything, the front door opens, and you hear your daughter’s voice and Spencer laughing.

Then silence.

You look toward the door, Spencer is leaning there, his eyes a bit wider, then he walks and kneels next to you.

“Love I— What are you doing?”

You stay silent for a couple of seconds and then looks at him, stuttering.

“Spence— Love I— I didn’t want to read it. I didn’t think—“ .

He stops you immediately with a smile and a kiss on your forehead, curling an arm around you and holding you tight against his chest

“Hey. Hey, breathe. I know, It’s okay. It’s nothing. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything, but i just needed a space to talk freely about you when I had those overwhelming moments.” He chuckles a little before continuing “You really gave me an hard time, in the best way possible. I hope you’re not upset.”

You shake your head. “I’m not, I’m not, I just feel bad because I read all those things you probably needed to keep to yourself.”

He shakes his head again laughing “No, those were meant for you as well. Now you know how I really feel — how much I feel.”

That stirred something inside you, and you let out some tears.

After a little you laugh softly through the tears “You really don’t like the green couch?”

He laughs as well “I didn’t. Like at all, baby. But I learned to love it.” Then he kisses your hair “Just as much as I love you.”

-----

“Maeve,

I think this will be the last time I write to you.

Not that I don't miss you anymore, I wish you could see me every day, I think you would be proud of the man I became.

Some days ago she found out about this notebook. Not that she was mad or angry about it, she wasn’t upset at all.

We talked about it, and we hugged a lot too — at least until Mia didn’t interrupt us because she wanted to play with the Barbies after watching the movie and we all had our dolls to role-play (of course I’m Ken and I barely do anything).

You have been a big part of my life, Maeve, one of the most important chapters.

I don't even know how to tell you goodbye, since time hasn't belonged to you for years now. Can you still see the passing of days and nights from up there, or is it always daytime?

When you left, something broke. Not forever, but enough to make me realize that love does not end with absence. There are days when I wonder what would have been if you had stayed. If we had had a wider, slower, less cruel time. But then I look at my family, and I realize that life is not about choosing between one love and another. Sometimes, we are only given to keep carrying everything, despite what life throws at us.

I know that you are always here, even though I cannot see you. Sometimes I feel your hand on my shoulder, and I feel you smile seeing my wife and daughter. I know you like them very much too. In one of the first letters I wrote to you I was wrong, she is not a rebound.

Are you proud of me, Maeve? I hope so.

I have to go now, Mia is calling me - it's time for a bedtime story.

Until we meet again.

Give my regards to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I hope he has written new Sherlock Holmes stories for you (save them for me. As soon as I get there I want to read them too).”

[burntheedges]

Falling For You - Part 1

Joel Miller x f!reader | 7.3k | 18+ | masterlist | fic masterlist | ao3

fic summary: Joel Miller gave up on the idea of a soulmate at least 20 years and one apocalypse ago. But it turns out the universe hasn't given up on him quite yet.

Part 1: Back in Jackson, settling in was both easier and harder than Joel expected.

a/n: here's part 1! I hope you enjoy! we're starting out with Joel stumbling his way through settling into Jackson. Ellie, too. see tags/warnings below and check the fic masterlist for the full tags. Thank you again @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta!! 🧡

tags/warnings for part 1: angst, Joel is having a lot of feelings ok, family vibes, family fluff, reference to (unnamed) David, Ellie has a bit of a dissociative episode (school related), get ready for soulmate lore (for this AU)

Part 1

“She’s the one, Joel.”

Joel didn’t know what to make of Maria at first. 

Sure, she didn’t seem to like him much, but he didn’t really expect or need to be liked. She’d definitely heard a few too many stories from Tommy and made up her mind that most of it (if not all of it) was Joel’s fault. 

Fair enough. 

But that wasn’t what was throwing him off, what was making him feel like everything he’d known had picked up and settled just a bit to the left. Leaving him out of step and off balance, trying to move forward but uncertain where to find solid ground. 

Tommy hadn’t told him right away, but once he had him alone, he couldn’t hold it in. 

“She’s the one, my one. First time we locked eyes — over the barrel of her gun, of course, didn’t trust me one bit — I heard ‘em. Ours are bells, can you believe it?” Tommy laughed, and Joel knew with certainty he’d never seen a smile quite like that on his brother’s face before. “I froze, had no idea what to do. Couldn’t hear anything but the song in my head, couldn’t see anything but Maria. And then she said, ‘well. Better come with me, then.’” Tommy laughed again. “Got her to smile at me for the first time later that night. Wasn’t easy.”

Joel huffed a single laugh, trying not to frown for Tommy’s sake. 

“After… well. After everything, I’d given up. And then there she was, last place I ever thought I’d find her.” Tommy sighed and looked so in love Joel wanted to throw his glass of whiskey across the bar.

He didn’t. He downed it, instead. 

“I…” he shook his head. “I’m happy for you.”

Tommy chuckled. “Don’t look it, but I know you, so I’m not offended.”

Joel winced and frowned again. “I—“

Tommy waved his hand in the air. “No, no, I remember. ‘Soulmates? That type of crap don’t matter when the world’s gone to shit. Why bother?’ I’ve heard you say it enough times, Joel.”

Joel hunched his shoulders up by his ears and sighed. “I am happy for you. I know I ain’t… I know how I’ve been.” He glanced at Tommy, whose eyebrows had flown upwards at Joel’s admission, and then back down to his empty glass. “If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

“Thank you,” Tommy said, voice sincere, if surprised. “I think you’ll like her, though she doesn’t like you much.”

This time Joel did laugh as he replied, “just say it. I know you’re thinkin’ it.” He elbowed Tommy and in unison, they said, “means she’s got good taste.”

Tommy laughed and started telling Joel more about the town and Joel sighed, relieved to change the topic. 

Soulmates. 

He hadn’t thought about finding his since 2003, and he wasn’t going to start now. They were probably dead, anyway. 

Why bother?

…

Joel had never talked about it with Tess. Like so many things, she’d understood him without him needing to say anything at all. 

He worried that he’d taken that for granted, by the end. 

Tess had lost her soulmate in the outbreak, and she wasn’t looking for a replacement, she said.

They fit together. 

(There were stories, rare ones, of people who heard the music after knowing each other for years instead of instantly or after only a short time — usually kids who knew each other growing up and didn’t hear their music until later. 

It was even more rare to have more than one soulmate.

Joel only let himself think about that in his darkest, lowest moments. That maybe one day he’d hear it. Maybe it would be nice if that were in the cards for him and Tess. 

It wasn’t.)

They never talked about it, but he knew that she always knew what he wasn’t saying — I’ll never find them, they’re probably gone, and I don’t want to know if they are gone. 

Who would want me now?

Finding them would be worse. 

Tess never pushed, and he never offered.

After everything, looking back, he only wished he had. She had wanted him. She deserved better. 

…

Jackson was strange, at first. Joel found it harder than he’d expected to settle in after he and Ellie returned from Salt Lake. 

Ellie didn’t take to it easily, either, which made Joel feel both better and worse. 

After the first week, the two of them made a deal that they’d eat most of their dinners at the dining hall for a while, if not the rest of their meals. He was pretty sure getting out of the house would be good for her, and even if he didn’t bother to apply the same standard to himself, he’d never say so where she could hear him. 

Teenagers loved to call out hypocrisy, after all, and this particular teenager could spot it a mile away. 

(He remembered the lessons he’d learned with Sarah, even if recalling them was like flexing a muscle he hadn’t used in 20 years. Getting back in shape wasn’t painless.)

About three weeks after their return, Maria broached the topic at dinner. 

“So, Joel, I’ve been meaning to ask. We’ve got quite a few buildings around town that could use some TLC.”

Ellie made a thoughtful noise. “No one’s ever told me what that stands for,” she interrupted, mouth full of potatoes. “Tough… large…” she trailed off, frowning. “Contractors?”

Tommy laughed and Joel couldn’t help but smile. 

Maria smiled at Ellie. “In this case, not far off. But it stands for tender loving care.”

Ellie hummed and turned to Joel with the look that he knew meant she was about to say something at his expense that Tommy would probably think was hilarious. “Joel, your hair could use some TLC.”

He sighed while Tommy laughed so hard he looked like he might fall off the bench. Maria chuckled and Ellie grinned. 

“Alright, alright.” Joel resisted the urge to shove Tommy the rest of the way off the bench and kicked his brother under the table instead. “What kind of TLC are we talkin’, here,” he asked Maria. 

“Some windows that are letting in air, stairs that are worn down. A couple leaks. A few houses that need to be made livable.” Maria started ticking off her fingers. “A roof or two that need a look at.”

“I’ve got a running list written down in the office,” Tommy said. “Come by tomorrow and we’ll look it over.”

“Tomorrow is Ellie’s first day of school,” Joel said, voice mild. He knew Tommy would know what he wasn’t saying — that he needed to be available and easy for her to find. Just in case. 

“I’ll point out where the office is after dinner,” his brother said, looking at Ellie. “It’s closer to the school than your house.”

Ellie looked like she would rather crawl under the table than acknowledge she had any idea what they were talking about, so he changed the subject. 

“Thought I’d be doin’ patrol,” he observed, and Maria nodded. 

“You will. Everyone who can, does, but we have a rotation, so people can actually use their other skills, too. We need it, and that way everyone can contribute what they can.”

Ellie perked up, and Joel sighed before she even opened her mouth. She elbowed him. “Can I go on patrol?”

“No,” Joel, Tommy and Maria chorused together. 

“Ugh,” she replied, rolling her eyes. 

“Training starts at 16, then actual training runs. Can’t patrol until you’re 17 at the earliest.” Maria’s voice was even and Ellie sighed and nodded. “You’ll hear about it in school.”

After dinner Tommy walked home with them and pointed out the office. “School’s right down the road,” he pointed towards it and Ellie tensed. Joel nudged her with his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there after breakfast, Joel. Have a good first day, Ellie.” Tommy waved and headed towards his house. 

When Joel opened their front door and waved Ellie inside, he eyed her tense shoulders and made a quick adjustment to his evening plans.

“Want to watch that movie? The space one.”

Ellie immediately perked up and grinned, leading the way into the living room, and he couldn��t help but smile. 

She plopped down onto the couch in such a way that she sprawled over most of it. By the end of the movie, she was leaning on his shoulder and covered in a blanket, half asleep.

“Hey,” he murmured, not wanting to mess up the moment or the ease in her shoulders but knowing he needed to say it. “Come find me if you need me tomorrow, alright?”

Ellie didn’t say anything, but the way she buried her face in his shoulder told him enough. 

“It’s ok if you need a break or can’t do the whole day. Just find me.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Ok?”

“Ok,” she mumbled. 

“Ok,” he repeated. He nudged her into a standing position. “Time for bed, kiddo.”

She sighed dramatically and stomped off towards the stairs. When she got there, though, she stopped and looked back at him. “Hey Joel,” she said, voice low.

“Yeah?” He stood from the couch and watched as she worked her jaw over what she wanted to say.

“Thanks,” she said, quiet.

He smiled. “Anytime.”

…

Joel saw Ellie off to school in the morning and almost had an anxiety attack at the way it reminded him of sending Sarah to school Before. 

In some ways, knowing what school had been like for Ellie with FEDRA in Boston made it worse, this time around.

He stood with Tommy by the office while she walked down the street towards the school. When she got there she turned and looked back. He could tell she rolled her eyes when she found them both looking at her. She waved, but even that felt somehow like she was being sarcastic.

They waved back and Tommy laughed as they watched Ellie go inside the school building. “Can’t believe you managed to find your clone running around Boston,” he mused, elbowing Joel in the ribs. “Did she act like that before you carted her across the country?”

“She comes by it honestly,” Joel said, and Tommy smirked. He couldn’t even pretend he didn’t know what his brother was talking about, and besides, the idea that Ellie was like him was filling his entire chest with warmth. Not that he was going to tell Tommy that.

“Well, your terrifying mini-me will be fine. Let me show you the plans.” 

They spent the entire day poring over the various plans and maps Tommy had in the main office, and Joel started to understand the scale of what they were doing in Jackson. There were more residents than he realized, more people who needed a home or needed their home fixed.

“This is a lot, Tommy,” he observed some time in the afternoon. “We need more manpower.”

Tommy nodded. “We have it. I’ve been training some people, and we have a couple more that did some building before.”

Joel nodded. “And supplies. How are we there?”

Tommy smiled when Joel said “we” but didn’t acknowledge it otherwise, which he appreciated. “We’re doing alright. We have a policy to either collect or go back for anything useful when people are on patrol. Got a nice stash, almost like a little hardware store. Can use anything in there for repairs, but you have to barter like normal for personal projects.”

Joel hummed. “I’ll need to go take a look, then.”

“I’ll start prioritizin’,” Tommy said, already rearranging the papers on his desk. “Why don’t you start with that tomorrow – get a lay of the land, stop by Nuts n’ Bolts. See what we’ve got.”

Joel raised his eyebrows at his brother. “Nuts and bolts?”

Tommy laughed. “Ah, right. It’s not official but that’s what we’ve all taken to calling our little hardware store. We even call her Bolts sometimes, ‘stead of her name. The woman who organizes everything and handles the inventory. She should be there tomorrow, she can show you around. She knows it back to front.”

That night Joel told Ellie about his plans once she was done telling him every single thing that had happened to her at school that day. 

“So you think it’ll be alright?” He asked her once she seemed to wind down.

She nodded, and he took a deep breath in relief when she looked away. “I might… I don’t fuckin’ know. It was a lot. But it seemed ok. Can I…” she trailed off, and he thought he knew what she wasn’t asking.

“Offer stands,” he said, nodding. “Come find me. I’ll be at the office again, but in the morning I might be over at Nuts ‘n Bolts.”

“What’s that?” She asked, looking confused.

“The local hardware store, apparently,” he explained, stretching his neck. He’d been sitting around a lot more lately and noticed he was getting stiff. “I need to see what supplies they got so we can start fixin’ stuff up.”

Ellie furrowed her brow. “Will you teach me?”

“Teach you what?”

She curled into a ball on the couch with her knees to her chest and propped her cheek on one knee, looking at him. He smiled. “To fix things,” she replied.

“Course I will,” he said, reaching out to push her lightly on the shoulder. She didn’t release her knees and dramatically fell over on the couch with an oof. He laughed and she grinned. “Anything you want to know.”

“Cool.”

…

After seeing Ellie off to school again, Joel took a walk around town. 

He kept an eye out for the projects he’d gone over with Tommy the day before and spotted most of them. He could see why they were so eager to get going. 

On his way back to the office he swung by Nuts ‘n Bolts. It was easy to spot, since someone had made a wooden sign with a nut and a bolt carved into it and hung it above the door. 

It was an old storefront with actual rows of shelving and big windows. It even looked like a hardware store from the outside. 

When he stepped inside and a little bell rang above his head, he was almost transported back 25 years. He took a deep breath. 

“Morning,” a voice called out from the back. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Take your time,” he called back. “Just lookin’ around.”

“Ah, you must be Joel,” the voice said, and it sounded like they were smiling. “Tommy told me you’d stop by. Alright, I’ll be out there in a bit. Holler if you need anything.”

He sighed, knowing that Tommy had probably told them something ridiculous, and started looking around. 

It really did look like a hardware store. There were tools and supplies of all kinds, neatly organized on clean shelves. There were also signs of a meticulous inventory being kept, with numbers updated in pencil on little slips of paper in front of each item. 

Joel was leaning over some bins of nails when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

Ellie was walking up the street towards the store, jaw set, arms crossed. In a sudden overwhelming rush Joel felt worry rise and begin to choke him. He turned and speed walked towards the door.

“Gotta go,” he barely remembered to call out. “Another time.”

He heard some kind of acknowledgement, but it was faint and he was already mostly out the door.

…

When he stepped outside, he could see on Ellie’s face that she wasn’t ready to talk about it, whatever it might be. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder and said, “office or home?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, despite her hunched shoulders and general fuck-off aura. 

“Office.”

“Alright,” he agreed, and led the way. She trailed after him silently and he worked his jaw as he tried not to draw any similarities with her silence after Silver Lake. “I’ll show you what we’re working on.”

When they stepped into the office, Ellie’s shoulders relaxed just a bit, and he did not allow himself a deep breath in relief. 

He’d learned the hard way on the road that she liked him talking but not asking questions, not when she was feeling like this, so he started showing her the list and the repairs. She eased into a chair and leaned in to look at the town map. 

By the time he got to the smaller projects on the outskirts, she had her chin in her hand and was staring off into the middle distance. 

When she interrupted him, he stopped talking immediately. 

“It was math class,” she said, voice quiet. Joel tensed and then forced himself to relax his muscles. “The teacher here isn’t even a man, isn’t…” she trailed off and frowned, and he could see her wrestling with herself. “But I couldn’t… fucking why couldn’t I—“

Joel was up and around the desk before he even realized he was moving, then on his knees next to her chair. He reached up and ran his hand over her hair and relaxed, just a bit, when she leaned into it. “Ellie, you don’t—“

“I can’t fucking sit through a math class, Joel,” she said, sounding disgusted with herself. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on his shoulder. “It wasn’t the teacher or the school, it was just math, and I ran away like a weak little b—“

“Hey,” he said, voice low and soothing. He cupped the back of her head in his hand and started running the palm of his free hand up and down her back. “Running away does not make you weak. It’s ok to not be ok, baby girl. And look, Tommy told me something.” He squeezed the back of her neck with his hand. “Plenty of the kids here haven’t been able to do school right away. Plenty of ‘em have eased into it.” She started to pull back but he squeezed her again and she settled. “It’s hard… to go from the road to something like school. Turns out they have whole plans here for kids who need more time.”

“Plans?” She asked, finally raising her head and looking at him skeptically. “Like what?”

Joel settled onto one knee and leaned against the arm of her chair. “Like half days, and doin’ some work on their own at home. Or every other day.” He took one of her hands and squeezed it. “I bet we could work out a plan for you to do your math work at home, or here, even.” He waved his free hand around the office. “Seems like I’ll be spendin’ some time here, if you wanted to hang around.”

Ellie frowned as she mulled that over, staring down at their hands. She picked at the seam of her jeans with her free hand and Joel fought the urge to hold that one, too. “Other kids have really done this, too?”

He could hear what she was really asking — she didn’t want to be the only one with a problem. It was a pretty normal thing to worry about, of course, but it was also such a teenager thing to worry about that he couldn’t help but smile. “They have. Pretty sure no one would think you were weird.” He eyed her and took a gamble.  “Not for that, anyway. Got plenty of other reasons, like the way you put sugar on grits,” he said, voice teasing. 

She rolled her eyes at him and he smiled, fully. “You’re the weird one, Joel. No one likes grits, I don’t care what you say. And Tommy told me no one else actually likes those old movies you told me about, too.”

“Tommy ain’t got any taste,” he said, moving to stand. He stopped when her grip on his hand tightened. “I’ll talk to the teachers, alright? We’ll figure it out.”

She nodded, looking much calmer than she had when he’d found her outside. He pulled her into another hug. 

“And we’re in this together, right? We made a deal.” She nodded again, and smiled, this time, the way she did every time he referenced their deal.

When he let go, she started asking him questions about the repairs that needed doing, and he heaved himself off the floor to answer. 

They’d be alright. 

…

Their deal, as they’d both come to call it, had been hashed out on their fifth night back in Jackson.

Joel hadn’t wanted to rush her, he’d known she was feeling like shit. But he knew he couldn’t let the two of them start up a pattern of never leaving the house. Not if Ellie was going to have an actual life there. And that’s what he wanted for her, more than anything – to have a life. 

It turned out she wanted something similar for him.

“How about just dinners, then?” he’d offered, when she’d refused to go out for lunch again. “We can start tomorrow. See how it goes.”

She’d agreed, but their truce had been short lived when she’d discovered he also wanted her to go to school. Not yet, but apparently wanting her to go at all was the problem.

“Why the fuck do I need school,” she’d spat, and he’d thanked his years of experience with teenage anger and discontent for his even response.

“Life here seems alright, don’t it?” he’d asked, and eventually, frowning, she’d nodded. “Seems like we can give things a try, the way things are done here. See how it goes.”

Ellie had frowned down at her hands in her lap on the couch but eventually looked back up at him. “If I’m trying,” she’d emphasized, “you have to, too.”

“Ellie, I don’t need anything, just—“ just you, he’d been about to say. Just for you to be happy. 

“No, Joel. You, too.” She’d been implacable. And at the end of the day, all he wanted was to give her what she wanted. 

So they shook on it. She would try, and he would try, and they wouldn’t just give up because something sounded dumb or like a waste of time. 

They’d try living this new life they’d found, and they’d do it together. And see how it went.

…

The teachers were more than happy to come up with a plan for Ellie, it turned out. So she spent her mornings at school, and her afternoons in the office with Joel or Tommy, doing work they assigned for her to take home.

Joel loved it.

He knew it wouldn’t last forever – eventually she’d feel fine with school, he knew, and he’d lose this time they had together – so he tried to savor it. Tried to find time to teach her about what they were doing, to let her be a part of it. Every time he gave her something to do, she stood a little taller, smiled a little wider.

It turned out actually trying was good for her. And seeing her settle in and start to smile more? That was good for him.

She’d taken to sitting at a little desk Tommy had found god-knows-where in the corner of the office and chattering about what she was doing, which suited him just fine. Sometimes she threw balled up pieces of old homework at him to catch his attention and he always sent them right back, bouncing them off her forehead. It never failed to make her laugh.

About a week and a half into their new arrangement she finished her work early and started rummaging around in office shelves, keeping up her stream of consciousness stories about her new classmates as she went. 

“... and did you hear about that new group that came into town? From somewhere west? Turns out one of them is Miss Jenna’s soulmate.” Ellie fiddled with an old broken stapler she found on a shelf, frowning at it as she turned to look at him expectantly. 

It took Joel a minute to catch up with what she was talking about, but his mind snagged on soulmate. He knew Miss Jenna was her history teacher. “What?”

Ellie nodded. “Miss Tasha is taking over for her for the rest of the week to give them time to, I don’t know.” Ellie shrugged expansively. “What do soulmates even do? Talk, or some shit.”

He raised his eyebrows at her and smiled. “Or some shit?”

She sighed and flopped the stapler open. “What is this thing?”

“A stapler,” he told her, “but I doubt we have any staples. Used to use ‘em to bind piles of paper together with little metal bits.”

“The staples?” She asked, peering at it and then at him. He nodded. “Weird. Anyway, I don’t fuckin’ know. FEDRA never talked about soulmates. We only heard stuff from the other kids.” She shrugged again. “You hear music, right? In your head?” She looked baffled by this idea.

“‘S what they say.” He stretched his shoulders, settling in to talk about this. “I’ve never heard it myself, but Tommy and Maria did. You could ask them what it was like.”

Ellie leaned forward on the desk, stapler forgotten by her hand. “They’re soulmates?!” She looked intrigued. “Why didn’t you say so?”

He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes at him and flopped into the chair in front of the desk. “Useless, Joel. You’re supposed to find out things and then tell them to me. Duh.” She grinned at him when he huffed a laugh. “I’ve never met soulmates before. Everyone’s music is different, right?”

He nodded again. “‘S what they say.”

She hummed and kicked her feet up on the desk. He reached across and nudged them back onto the floor with a ruler and she grumbled. When she was quiet for a long moment, he looked up, and found her frowning thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“Ellie?” he prompted, and she sighed.

“Did most people, Before,” she started, and then cleared her throat. “Did most people find them? Their soulmates?”

Joel thought about it for a moment before answering. “A lot of people did, sure,” he said, thinking about his parents for the first time in years. “Our parents were soulmates, mine and Tommy’s. And I knew a lot of people who found theirs.” He shrugged. “Not sure of the numbers. One of your teachers might know.”

“Did…” she trailed off, looking hesitant, and he figured she was about to ask about him. “You said you didn’t–”

He shook his head. “Never found ‘em.”

She hesitated again, and he figured she was about to ask about Tess. He poked at her memory in his mind and discovered it didn’t hurt quite as much as it used to.

Still hurt, though.

“Did Tess–”

He shook his head again. “Lost hers in the outbreak,” he said, and he could hear the gruffness in his own voice. He cleared his throat. “We weren’t… we weren’t.”

She nodded, looking thoughtful. “Wonder how many there are in Jackson.”

“You’ll have to ask Tommy,” he said, sighing, “Wouldn’t know.”

Ellie hummed again, but before she could ask him another question about it the man himself walked in the door.

“Howdy, folks,” Tommy said, drawing out his accent a bit more than normal. It made Ellie snicker, which was the point. “What are you troublemakers up to today?”

“You didn’t tell me you and Maria are soulmates!” Ellie accused, and Tommy looked slightly taken aback before he smiled.

“So sorry, ma’am, didn’t realize you wanted to know.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Duh. What was it like?”

Joel figured Tommy had brought this on himself and turned back to his work. After all, only the day before he’d told Ellie she could ask him “anything at all” and he’d answer.

“The music?” Tommy asked, propping himself against the desk. Ellie nodded. “Pretty weird. It’s not like when you have a song stuck in your head, it’s like actual music playing inside your head. Full sound.” He tilted his head from side to side. “And it’s a song I’d never heard, never in my life, which made it even weirder.”

Ellie looked captivated by this information. “And Maria heard the same thing?!”

Tommy nodded. “Yep.”

“And were you, like, instantly in love?” Ellie looked both intrigued and put off by the idea, which made Joel smile down at his maps.

“I was,” Tommy said with a wink, grinning. “Maria took a little convincing, but she’s smarter than me, anyway.”

Ellie seemed to mull that over and then nodded. “Did you hear about Miss Jenna?”

Joel looked up, interested to hear the answer on this one, and found Tommy nodding. “Yep. I was standing right next to them when it happened, too.”

Ellie’s mouth dropped open and Joel smiled to himself – she had a true love of gossip, his kid. “What was it like? Seeing it?”

“Now, don’t go repeatin’ this to all the other miscreants, alright?” Tommy fixed her with a look and Ellie nodded eagerly. “But it looked like it went the same for them as it did for me. Mena was getting down off her horse when she happened to look up and catch Jenna’s eye and, well. They both stared, Mena fell down the rest of the way and landed in the dirt. Jenna helped her up and said something like, ‘did you hear that?’” He smiled. “So there you go.”

Ellie squinted at him. “That’s it?” 

Tommy laughed. “What else do you want?”

She shrugged, and Joel smiled down at his maps again. “Guess I thought it would be a bigger deal, or something.”

Tommy hummed. “Well, for them it was. We got enough soulmates here in town that I guess it’s not so novel anymore,” he said, thoughtfully.

“Really?” Ellie asked. “Like, a lot?”

He shrugged. “Not sure what’s a lot. But enough. Not the first time it’s happened at the gates, either.”

Ellie considered that for a minute. “Huh,” she said, sounding surprised. “Maybe mine is here, too. Oh, or Joel’s!” He looked up from his work to find her grinning at him. “Somebody who can fall in love with that grumpy face.”

He frowned at her and she frowned back. “Soulmates–”

Tommy cut him off, and Joel recognized the voice he used as his Joel impression. He sighed as Tommy said in a deep, growling voice, “soulmates? Why bother?” And then laughed. 

Ellie looked between him and Joel. “Was that supposed to be Joel?”

“Duh,” Tommy said, smiling as he repeated the word back to her with the same intonation she’d used when he came in. “Heard him say it enough times.” 

Joel sighed again. 

Ellie frowned at him. “Do you not want to meet ‘em?”

Joel looked at her and fought down his initial response of obviously not and who would want me now? That wasn’t exactly the message about love and relationships he wanted to pass on to his kid, not when all he wanted was for her to be happy. Even if it wasn’t in the cards for him. “Figure they’re not around anymore,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Been long enough.”

“You are old as dirt,” Ellie said, rolling her eyes. “But they could be here. You never know.”

Joel couldn’t help but notice that she seemed pretty excited about the whole thing, maybe because it was so different from what she knew in Boston with FEDRA. He sighed again. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I ain’t lookin’. Got plenty of other things to worry about.” Like you, he didn’t say. 

“Joel,” she said, frowning. “We have a deal.”

He eyed her and tried not to notice Tommy looking between them curiously out of the corner of his eye. “Didn’t realize soulmates were part of the deal.”

“Of course they are!” She said, raising both of her arms and then letting her hands fall against her legs in exasperation. “Living, Joel. Life, or whatever.”

“Alright, alright, ok.” He worked his jaw for a moment, figuring out what he wanted to say. “If they’re here, somehow. I’ll tell you, alright? And I’ll…” he winced. “I’ll talk to them, I guess.”

Ellie grinned and Tommy looked shocked. “Deal,” she said, looking smug. 

Tommy gave him a look that said, you really are wrapped around her little finger, you know, and Joel flipped him off the second Ellie’s back was turned. 

…

The soulmates conversation was, thankfully, put to the side after that. Joel was certain Ellie asked Tommy about it more, apparently insatiable in her desire for more knowledge, but she didn’t talk to him about it again. 

Considering that his opinion was still finding them now would be worse, despite the recent, more positive changes in his life, he figured that was a good thing. 

So Joel settled into a daily rhythm of mornings at work and afternoons with Ellie and marveled at how much he liked this new life they’d found. 

Ellie started running errands for them, too, and learning more about the work they were doing. It made him feel proud, which made Tommy tease him, which made him put Tommy in a headlock with a cheering Ellie off to the side. 

It was nice. And Joel hadn’t had nice in decades, so it was difficult to trust. Difficult not to wonder when the other shoe was going to drop. 

He figured if he kept his head down and did his work he’d stay out of trouble. Hopefully. 

“Joel! I’m back," Ellie called, bursting into the office with a box in her arms. “Bolts had everything you asked for except, well.” She snickered. “Except the bolts. She said she’d check the storage area and get back to me.”

This wasn’t the first time Ellie had run over to get something from Nuts ‘n Bolts — she’d mostly taken over the job, in fact. 

“She said you still haven’t been over there to introduce yourself. Not very social of you,” Ellie said, repeating what Maria had said a couple nights before, waggling a finger at him. He rolled his eyes and caught it, smiling when she squealed. 

“I know, keep meaning to,” he said, releasing her but reaching out to mess with her hair as he stepped back. She swatted him away, laughing. 

“Well you can’t have my job, slacker.” Tommy had taught her that word the week before and Ellie had been using it with delight ever since. “You’ll have to go over there on your own.”

He started going through the box and was impressed as always by how meticulously organized it was. Each different item was in its own little box or folded in paper with a tag noting how many were there in neat handwriting. It satisfied something inside of him, to see competence like this on display.

“Still checking her work?” Tommy said, stomping inside. “I told you she knows what she’s doing.”

Ellie nodded, agreeing. 

“No, just looking,” Joel said, knowing they probably didn’t believe him. But he wasn’t. 

He was more appreciating her work than anything else. 

“Well, let’s get going then,” Tommy said, motioning towards the door. “Those stairs won’t fix themselves.”

…

About a month after Ellie started school, Joel did his first patrol. 

It was time, but he was grateful for the extra time to settle in and prepare Ellie for him to leave and come back. 

Well, for him to try to prepare her, anyway. And attempt to prepare himself, too.

“I want to come,” she said, stomping next to him towards the gate. She’d said the same thing every day since Maria had asked him three days ago. 

“You know the rules,” he said, tone mild. “Not—“

“Not until I’m 17, ugh, I fucking know, Joel.” She frowned and crossed her arms. “What if something happens? What if—“

“Hey,” he said, stopping and kneeling next to her on the ground. She looked thrown, like she always did when he put himself below her like that. He hoped she’d stop being surprised by it eventually. “I’ll be with a group, and with Tommy, alright? I’ll be ok. We aren’t even going that far—“

“Just out to the dam, I know.” She finished for him. Her body was coiled as tight as a spring and he reached out to squeeze her shoulder. 

He nodded. “Back by sundown. I’ll meet you right there.” He pointed to the tree by the gate. “Ok?”

She worked her jaw for a minute but nodded. “Ok. And you better not get hurt.”

He smiled and stood up, cupping her face gently. “I won’t. You don’t either, alright?”

She sighed, sounding so much like an exasperated teenager he had to hold in a grin. “I’m just going to hang out with Bolts and sort nails. Ooh, scary.” She waggled her fingers at him. He let his hand drop on top of her head and waggled it gently in response. She made a noise in protest and grabbed his hand. 

“Alright. Be good for Bolts. I’ll see you later, ok?” She nodded and, quicker than lightning, ducked under his arm into a hug. He squeezed her and let his cheek rest on top of her head for a moment. 

He wasn’t going to say so, but knowing she’d be safe with an adult she trusted while he was gone was the only thing letting him go at all. 

“I’ll be right back, baby girl,” he murmured, and she squeezed him once more before letting go and watching him lead his horse to the gate. When he looked back after mounting up, she waved. 

He waved back and ignored the feeling that he was leaving his heart behind with every step his horse took. He knew it was good for them to be separated for a bit, knew he couldn’t let her live in his pocket forever, even if in the moment all he wanted was to turn around and go home.

. . . 

At dinner that night, Ellie sat much closer to him than usual. It comforted him, too, so he didn’t say anything. In between demands for stories about the (pretty boring, all things considered) patrol, he started to notice a pattern in her speech that he was pretty sure had been forming for a while, he just hadn’t noticed.

“Bolts said that Before, people used to put coins in machines and squish them, like, on purpose. And the machine would print a little design on them. That’s fucking wild! I thought money was important? Why would you squish it?”

“Bolts told me that Before people used to do something called glamping. Joel, did you ever go glamping? Why wouldn’t you just go normal camping? And why would you go camping on purpose at all? Didn’t you have a house?”

“When we were checking the storage area, Bolts found a box of staples, those little metal things you told me about! She let me staple some papers but then she said I had to stop because I was helping ‘a bit too enthusiastically and we only have so many staples, Ellie.’”

He knew he could trust her with Bolts, just based on the stories she told and what Tommy had said about her. But he’d never met her. Maybe it was time he made time to do that.

…

In the end, Joel didn’t make it over to Nuts ‘n Bolts for almost a week after he’d made up his mind to actually do it. The patrol had gone well, but Ellie had been more his shadow than ever afterwards, and he spent a lot of time reassuring her – and himself – that everything was fine.

Her teachers had suggested that she start attending the art class that happened in the afternoons at the school once a week on Tuesdays, and so Joel took advantage of her absence to go over and do Ellie’s usual pick up at the hardware shop.

As he walked up to the shop, he realized how strange it was that he’d been in town for so long and hadn’t actually been back there. When he stepped inside, he was again impressed with the meticulous organization and care. 

He recognized the handwriting on all of the shelf labels, now, the same handwriting that would appear on the labels in each of the boxes Ellie picked up on her errands.

Must be Bolts’, he thought to himself as he ran his fingers over the words “washers, 4mm” in clear, tidy handwriting.

“Afternoon,” a voice called from the back. “‘S that you, Ellie?”

Joel called back a greeting. “She has art class on Tuesdays, now,” he explained, voice raised a bit to be heard as he continued exploring the shelves. 

“Ooh, and how’s she feel about you taking over her job?” The voice was teasing, now, and it made him laugh. 

“She warned me I better do it right and be polite,” he said, and he heard a laugh from the back. He turned another corner and found hooks of all shapes and sizes carefully organized and displayed along a shelf. “Said I had a reputation to uphold.”

“She’s right,” the voice called, and he could hear the laugh in it. “It’s an important mantle you’re taking on, you know. And you must be Joel.”

He was grinning at a shelf of caulk, he realized, and blinked. “That’s me. And you must be Bolts? Or should I call you–” 

Another laugh interrupted him. “Bolts is fine! No one calls me anything but that around here.”

Joel was starting to feel like he was walking through a maze, looking for the corner to turn that would take him to the back, where the voice was coming from.

“I’ve heard all about you, you know,” Bolts called. “To hear Ellie tell it, there’s nothing you can’t do, you’re the tallest person alive, and you’re old as dirt.” He snorted. “Now, I know that’s not true from Tommy – maybe just old to a teenager, anyway – but I’ve been looking forward to seeing for myself.”

He couldn’t stop smiling. Walking through this maze of a hardware store was starting to feel like an out of body experience. He was pretty sure he was close, though, to figuring out where she was.

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you too, you know,” he said, and the warmth in his own voice startled him. “Ellie thinks the world of you.”

“She’s a special kid, Joel,” Bolts said, voice softer now, but a bit muffled. 

“She is,” he agreed, and finally turned the corner to where he was pretty sure she was working. He was right – down at the end of the row, at a makeshift sales counter, there was a woman.

He couldn’t tell if she was shorter than him – she was leaning over a box with almost her entire torso inside of it.

She had a very nice ass, he couldn’t help but notice, and her jeans did nothing to hide it.

He blinked away from it as she started to rise, and his eyes trailed along her spine. He stepped forward, and she must have heard because she turned.

And then his eyes met hers.

In all the times he’d been told about soulmates, either no one had ever said, or he hadn’t been paying attention when they did, that the music that played inside your head was loud.

Or maybe it wasn’t that way for everyone. Maybe it was just loud for them.

He looked into her eyes and just like that, his mind was taken over by the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. Tommy had said bells but theirs wasn’t bells – it was strings. Almost like a symphony inside his mind, rising and falling and swelling together into a crescendo that took his breath away.

He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, staring into the eyes of the woman who was his soulmate.

The song started to fade, and Bolts took a single step towards him, face breaking open with some emotion he couldn’t name. 

“Joel?” she said, one of her hands lifting towards him.

He blinked, and felt the space the music had left behind start to fill with panic.

He ran.

...

a/n: I know!! Joel, what are you doing?? find out next Tuesday in part 2! (and this fic has a happy ending, I promise)

[taleeater]

Heavy Sleeper

I wrote like half of this at 3am 6 months ago and finally decided to finish it 😅

Generation: Bayverse, 2003, 2007 TMNT

TMNT Donatello x Reader

Pronouns: Gender Neutral

Warnings: illness, fainting, fever, IV

Tags: angst, fluff, illness

Summary: You overworked yourself past exhaustion helping Donnie with a new project. Not that you minded. Or noticed, until it was too late.

Word Count: 3229

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It has been a long night. …..and a long morning. You had been spending the last few days with Donnie occupied in the lab, helping him with some of the smaller, more detailed work on his new security device. While you were busy soldering pathways onto extra small microchips at the workbench, Donnie was typing away creating the programming at his computer. It required a high level of focus. Which, honestly, you usually didn’t have. However, this project had all your attention, and you had been happily hyper focused on designing the little golden pathways on those tiny green wafer boards for almost 3 days straight.

Donnie was extremely grateful for your help. But he was suspicious how his energetic little dove was being so quiet and still while they worked. The thought came to him a few times that he should go check on you again, but he was equally engrossed in his own project and kept getting sucked back into the work.

Your trick was: caffeine. You had discovered in college that if you drank caffeine on an empty stomach, you could stay extra focused for hours on end. Obviously, this wasn’t good for your health. Or your stomach. But usually you would finish whatever project it was you were laser focused on within the day, so the strain on your body wouldn’t last that long.

This was lasting very long. Very very long. And you had no idea of the passage of time. There was no sun peeking through curtains to inform you that you had worked through the night, or disgruntled roommate checking in to wonder why you hadn’t emerged all day. Donnie’s brothers were very well used to his overworking tendencies, so they paid it no mind he was only coming out for coffee and pop tarts. What they didn’t realize was that you were still in the lair, all assuming you had gone home after the first night. So none had thought to go in to check on the lab.

Here lies the dilemma. It had been maybe 64 hours since you had slept or properly consumed anything besides coffee and a singular package of pop tarts, frequently forgetting about the pile of snacks Donnie kept leaving on your desk. Your back was stiff, muscles sore, and your throat was starting to feel incredibly dry. But all your attention being on finishing your project meant all your physical awareness was finely tuned out.

Except that little tickle in the back of your throat.

It started maybe 5…. 6 hours ago. It was a little bothersome, making you clear your throat and drink a little more coffee to soothe it. But it kept coming back. The tickle started to become a little painful, and clearing your throat turned into small dry coughs. You were drinking more and more coffee to try and wash down the feeling or maybe chase away the dehydration. Your lips started to feel dry, then your eyes, joining in with your uncomfortably dry throat. By the time evening rolled around, your chest was burning terribly, and a migraine had started to thrum with your pulse. Having finished your pot of coffee maybe 2 hours ago and hadn’t bothered to go make more, you were thinking you just needed to get more to drink.

You took a small pause in your welding to push up your goggles and wipe at your dry eyes, when suddenly your vision blurred. For a second, you suddenly found your body lurching to the side off your chair before you caught yourself on the side of the desk.

‘Huh… that was weird. Maybe I’m just tired. I’ll go make more coffee.’

Donnie had been bringing you refills whenever he had gotten up to make more, but you had finished your pot twice as fast as usual. You moved to the side of your chair to stand, and your feet touched the ground with your full weight. To your surprise, your knees almost buckled underneath you, and blackness started to creep in the edges of your vision.

Your body felt weak, and your muscles ached. Keeping a death grip on the edge of the table, you took a slow step towards Donnie’s part of the lab, then another. You blinked rapidly to try and chase away the encroaching darkness creeping in your vision, but too soon your eyesight went dark, and it felt like your brain was shutting down. Internally, you were panicking and fighting to stay conscious, but all you could manage was weakly calling out for Donnie before you blacked out. You didn’t even feel yourself hit the ground.

Donnie, on the other side of the lab, had pulled away from his computer moments before to rub a hand down over his face. This line of code was driving him crazy and he couldn’t figure out where he’d gone wrong. He briefly heard the scrape of (y/n) pushing their chair away from the table, and expected to hear your footsteps head past him to the small bathroom in the back of the lab. He took a moment to flag this line of code- again, for further meddling later. The genius turtle had to admit he was reaching his limits on staying awake and figured it was time he took himself and (y/n) to bed.

But where was (y/n)? They hadn’t come in to greet him yet. Were they just adjusting their chair? That was when he heard it.

“d….don nie…” your voice called out weakly, strained, and barely above a whisper before he heard a light thud from the other room. Had you dropped something? He quickly pulled himself to stand and made his way to the other room to check on what it was you needed.

There. On the floor. You laid still and unmoving on your side against the cold floor.

“(Y/N)!!!!” Donnie exclaimed. Startled, he rushed to your side and dropped down beside you, pulling you into his lap. “(Y/n)! (Y/N)!!!!” He shook you slightly trying to rouse your attention, but your eyes were closed and your body fully limp in his arms. Unresponsive. Quickly, he felt for your pulse, sighing when he found it, but worried by the heightened pace. Donnie scooped you up into his arms and quickly carried you towards the med bay across the lair.

He made his way out of his lab and passed the living room where Mikey and Leo were watching a movie on the TV, and Raph was making a sandwich in the kitchen.

“Huh? Donnie? Is that (y/n)? I didn’t see them come in… are they asleep??” Leo asked when he saw Donnie rush out holding you in his arms.

“No time. (Y/n) fainted in the lab.” Donnie rushed out and speed walked through the clear plastic panels into the med bay, ignoring the startled ‘WHAT’ echoed by Leo and Mikey, and what sounded like Raph choking on his sandwich.

He laid you out gently on the padded white exam table, 3 sizes too big for you, and rushed around the drawers and cabinets. He acquired a stethoscope, thermometer, blood pressure pump, and various other tools to properly check your health and brought them over to the table beside you just as his brothers rushed in.

“ANGELCAKES ARE YOU OKAY??? Ow-“ Mikey rushed in pushing past Leo and Raph and dramatically ran to your side before Raph smacked the back of his head.

“Mikey, chill out. Give ‘em some room.” Raph growled out, trying to pull his dramatic little brother back while Leo stepped forward.

“Donnie, what happened to (y/n)?”

Donnie was now wearing the stethoscope and had the end pressed to the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing strained.

“Hmm… heart palpitations… lungs… crackling sound… that can’t be good.” Donnie was muttering notes under his breath, reaching up to place his hand over your forehead. He found a scorching hot fever and his heart sank. Only then did he turn to Leo. “We… we’ve been working in the lab the past few days… pretty intensely….” Donnie winched. “In hindsight, we did not take as many breaks as we should have. It appears (y/n) has collapsed from exhaustion.” Donnie’s eyes went downcast. He looked equally tired, but guilt was weighing heavy on his shoulders.

“They’ve been here all along?? We thought they went home days ago. Aren’t they usually the one making sure you’re eating and taking breaks to sleep?” The shock in Leo’s voice was clear. You were usually so doting with Donnie, cooking his favorite foods and dragging him off to bed with you to make sure he was well taken care of when he got too involved in his work. It appears this time the tables were turned. “They were helping you with a project? Have they been eating enough?” Leo pressed.

That seemed to have caught Donnie’s attention and he suddenly turned back to continue his check on you. “Yes, I’ve been bringing them snacks whenever I’d get up for coffee. They must’ve been weakened from lack of rest and dehydration…. I’m going to check their blood pressure.” Donnie wrapped the cuff around your arm, and started to inflate it when you started to stir.

“Huh… that doesn’t look good.”

Your eyes fluttered open and you took a deep breath. The bright lights making you wince and shut your eyes again. You moved to bring a hand up to your face but was surprised to feel the tug of something around your arm.

“Mmh? Donnie…? What time is it…” You stretched, confused as to why your body ached so much. Why was he looming over you? And his room was never this bright or cold.

“(Y/n)! Thank goodness… Darling, when was the last time you ate?” Donnie held your shaky hand in his and gently stroked his thumb over your knuckles.

“Hm…? The uh…. Pop tarts you gave me…”

Donnie sighed in relief, remembering he had brought you a package of pop tarts to set on your desk just that afternoon.

“Right after we took a nap together.”

Then Donnie blanched.

“Sweetheart… our last nap together was almost 3 days ago. What happened to the snacks I was leaving on your desk…?” He asked, trying to be hopeful. They had disappeared each time he had returned, so he assumed you had eaten them.

“3 days…? Oh…. Um… they were in the way, so I moved them to the bench for later…. I must’ve forgotten about them.”

Leo slapped a hand over his face. He was realizing you and his brother had more in common than he thought.

“Mikey, can you please go make some soup? Raph, please let dad know that (y/n) will be staying over for the next few days.” Mikey did a mock salute and rushed to the kitchen to make some light chicken noodle soup and Raph left to find Master Splinter in his plant room. Leo went to grab some clean blankets and a spare pillow from their storage room.

Your breathing was labored in the now quiet room. You turned your head to the side to rest against the cool pillow as you gazed up at Donnie with your shiny dazed eyes, cheeks flushed and red. “I almost finished the motherboard… just gotta… add the red and yellow wires…” You trailed off as your eyes slid shut. They burned with exhaustion and the light was hurting your head.

Donnie leaned in close and cupped your cheek gently, and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. His brow furrowed with worry, but his eyes were soft with adoration. “You did an amazing job. I’ll finish it up later, you just get some rest. Okay?” His thumb stroked your cheek.

“Mh hm… don’t forget the… polyimide adhesive tape…’s under my jacket…” You mumbled as you easily slipped into sleep.

Donnie smiled at you. He loves you. He loves that you taught yourself engineering to help him out with his workload. But right now he was regretting it, seeing the heavy bags under your eyes as you slept soundly. He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed.

When you learned that it was difficult for him and his brothers to do the delicate work of designing circuit boards for their tech, he was surprised you immediately showed interest in learning. He admittedly didn’t take you very seriously at first. But then you started joining him in the lab on long nights to study books you had checked out from the library on basic engineering, he taught you how to assemble his tech and how to solder and weld the machines together into things that would help them on patrol and repair things around the lair. He still remembers the first thing you’d ever made. The poorly soldered little metal band he wore around his right pinky finger.

Leo came back in with the blankets in tow. “Should we move them to your bed?” He asked Donnie.

“Not yet, I need to set them up with an IV to get some fluids in them first. I suspect they’re very dehydrated, on top of the general exhaustion.” Donnie was swaying in place. He looked exhausted, and Leo felt worry for you and his brother. It had been a long time since you last let him overwork himself to this extent. He blamed himself for not checking in on his brother sooner.

”Why don’t you go lie down? I’ll set up (y/n)’s IV and keep an eye on them.”

”But (y/n)….”

”-Would want you to rest.” Leo finished with a knowing smile.

Donnie sighed and looked you over. Leo unfolded the blanket and draped it over you so you wouldn’t get cold. Donnie fussed with bringing the edge right up under your chin and fixed your hair. He didn’t want to leave you in here, but he knew Leo was right. He wouldn’t be much use to you if both of you collapsed from exhaustion, so he relented.

”Wake me up if you need anything.” Donnie stood up on shaky legs.

”Uh huh.” Leo put his hands on Donnie’s shoulders and led him out of the med bay.

”And I mean anything-“

“Of course Donnie, now go to bed.” Leo pushed him out in the direction of their bedrooms. Raph and Mikey in the kitchen watched as Donnie trudged and swayed towards his bedroom, and disappeared into the darkness swinging his door shut.

“Duuude. Do I gotta start hiding the coffee again?” Mikey said from where he was chopping veggies for your soup.

Leo pointed at Mikey, “No more caffeine for those two for a month!”

Raph grunted a laugh.

Leo had set up your IV, just like Donnie had taught him. After an hour and a half, your body had absorbed most of the fluids, so Leo felt satisfied enough to wake you up. He shook your shoulder a bit to wake you up. You were deep asleep. The soup at your bedside that Mikey had brought in had cooled to a safe temperature, so he wanted to make sure you ate something hearty before he sent you back to bed.

”Mmh?” You finally started to stir.

”(Y/n), wake up. You’ve got to eat something.” Leo coaxed.

Your eyes fluttered open and immediately winced at the bright light. Leo stood over you to shield your eyes from the overhead light as you adjusted.

“Where’s Donnie?” You asked a bit dazed, looking around. The tickle in your throat was now a scratchy and irritated pain. You coughed hard into your fist.

”He went to bed. Here, Mikey made you some soup. It should still be warm enough.” Once you had sat up he handed you the bowl.

“Try and eat as much of it as you can, so you can take your medicine.”

You hummed in response, stifling another cough. You balanced the soup in your lap and slowly ate, spooning the warm chicken stock and veggies into your mouth. It soothed your throat, and with a few more bites you felt less shaky. You ate slowly, but you managed to finish almost the entire bowl.

Leo looked pleased and handed you your meds to swallow. Mikey poked his head in through the door to check on you as well.

”How’s angelcakes feeling?”

You paused a long moment as you sipped at a glass of water.

“Better.” You croaked. You still felt absolutely dreadful, but, “the soup helped. Thank you Mikey.”

The orange ninja beamed. Raph also peaked in over his little brother’s shoulder.

Leo looked back to you and took the bowl and spoon from your lap. He checked your IV pack and saw that most of it was gone. Your eyes looked heavy again as your body begged for more rest.

”I think it’s time you got some more sleep.” Leo mothered you. He tried to lift the edge of the blanket to cover you as you lay down but your hand stopped him.

Your red rimmed eyes were distant, and you cleared your throat as you found your words. “….Can I go to Donnie’s room? Please?”

Leo couldn’t help but smile at the innocent request. “Sure thing. Come on-“ You sat back up and Leo removed your IV. He motioned for you to adjust yourself, and Leo wrapped you up like a burrito in the blanket before scooping you up and carried you out of the med bay.

Mikey chuckled and rushed over to open Donnie’s door for you and his brother.

”Special delivery!!” He called into the darkness of Donnie’s room. A groan echoed out as the exhausted purple turtle was woken up. Leo carried you in and Donnie scooted over to make room for you to be deposited on his bed.

”Thanks Leo… hey babe…” Donnie greeted you sleepily, sitting up in bed as he received you and untangled you from the blanket.

Leo quietly walked out of the room to give you two privacy, and shoved Mikey’s face out of the way so he could close the heavy metal door behind him.

You stifled a cough, and reached out for Donnie in the darkness. The purple turtle dipped down into your embrace, and smooched your flushed red cheek. His arms slid up your back, and he pulled you flush against him in a warm embrace. He patted around for the edge of the blanket, before pulling it up and covering the both of you. He sighed deeply as he relaxed again against the pillows with you wrapped up in his arms.

”Thanks for helping me….. but please don’t ever do that again.” He mumbled against the crown of your head.

”Do what?” You asked, already half asleep.

”Collapse.”

You hummed a little laugh and snuggled in impossibly closer.

”I’ll do my best…”

Donnie pressed another quick kiss to your head, and you both quickly slipped back asleep.

The End :]

[infiniteglitterfall]

this is my most autistic half-birthday ever!

I gave myself the day to pursue a special interest and fulfill an offer I'd made last year.

The Jewish Virtual Library has a page listing all the rocket and mortar attacks on Israel since 2001 (which was when they first started). But it's incomplete. Last fall, I noticed it stopped in August, so I wrote to them offering to help update it. They thanked me and gave me some places I could look.

Today, I finally did it. I ended up cross-referencing with the lists on Wikipedia, digging through multiple Twitter accounts and outside news sources and NGOs, and sending them an email with my updates... plus an html file where I'd updated the code on the page so they could just check it and upload it instead of typing in all the data themselves.

I am such a huge nerd.

There's definitely more research to do. But I think I found a strong stopping place that let me actually send what I found and post about it. Which is always the hardest part. As my drafts folder could tell you.

I have more than two thousand drafts on here.

Anyway, I'm going to put my findings under a cut tag. Before you read on, I want you to try to guess.

Because one of the things I've been told most often by people who wanna Argue About Palestine Without Having To Learn Anything About Palestine (Or Israel Or History Or Imperialism Or Fact-Checking Or ?????) is that the reason for October 7, the reason for literally anything in fact, is that "Israel bombs Palestine constantly."

I want to put together a list of Israeli airstrikes next. I would love to reblog this with that information. But first, I want you to guess:

Note that this DOES NOT include terrorist car rammings, mass shootings, mass stabbings, bus bombings, suicide bombings, etc. It therefore excludes almost the entire Second Intifada.

After correcting the most recent four years and sending in my corrections, I made a list of the totals using the most complete collection I could find for each year. (Sometimes it was Jewish Virtual Library, sometimes it was Wikipedia, and sometimes they matched.)

2024: 12,629 (an average of 35 per day)

2023: 12,295 (34 per day)

2022: 1,180 (only 3 per day)

2021: 4,425 (12 per day)

2020: about 203

2019: 798+

2018: 348+, 0.95 per day

2017: Only 47!!! Why, it's almost like living in Canada!! 0.1 per day.

2016: Wow, only 20. See, if you go through the years backwards, it looks like progress is being made.  Very exciting. Until I get to the Second Intifada, probably. 0.05 per day.

2015: 58.

2014: oh right, that war. 4,778. (Wikipedia's 2015 list claims " In August 2014, Operation Protective Edge was ended after 4,594 rockets and mortars launched toward Israel. From the end of the operation came into force an unofficial cease-fire between Israel and Hamas." but there were three more after that, and 181 before it, listed on wikipedia alone. so like. 4,778 actually, for 13 a day.)

2013: 70 total. Wikipedia notes this was the lowest number since 2001.

2012: 2,442, or 6.7 per day.

2011: 680, for 1.9 a day.

2010: 365, for exactly one a day.

2009: 858, or 2.4 per day.

2008: 3,107! that's 8.5 a day.

2007: 2,807: 7.7 a day.

2006: 1,275, or 3.5 a day.

2005: 858. An average of 2.4 per day.

2004: 1,158.

2003: 637.

2002: 472.]

2001: "These attacks commenced in April 2001, although the first rocket to hit an Israeli city was on 5 March 2002, and the first Israeli fatality was 28 June 2004." I count 173 mortar attacks in 2001, however. Which makes the first fatality a critically-injured baby in 2001. And as soon as I make 250+ more edits and have the power to edit Wikipedia articles on "controversial" topics, I'll make it say so.

Grand Total: 51,685.

An average of SIX PER DAY.

FOR 24 YEARS.

I've been saying four.

But there were actually thousands that weren't listed on the Virtual Library site yet. It really cranked up that average.

Now consider this: between 10%-30% misfire and either crash into the sea, or hit Gaza.

A surprising number of Gazan casualties in every "conflict" have been from Hamas & Co's own missiles.

And they know this. And not only do they not care, but they keep using everything from mosques to humanitarian zones as rocket launch sites.

And why shouldn't they? You have to really dig to find information on how many Gazans die that way. Almost everyone just attributes the deaths to Israel. Hamas is never going to get any actual flak for accidentally killing its own civilians. It barely gets any flak for intentionally killing Israeli civilians, for pete's sake.

[grison-in-space]

I'm sorry? Pigeons have to coo to ovulate?

okay, okay, I left this one out in the tags without elaborating the other day and you were not the only person who asked-- @nanavn and @corvus--caurinus were also curious. I did not have a ton of time yesterday when my brain was not leaking out my ears, so here I am today.

First, I apparently misremembered my grad school teachings: the best-documented case study of doves being required to hear their own coo in order to ovulate is that of the ring or Barbary dove (Streptopelia risoria), not the rock dove which gave rise to our domestic pigeons (Columba livia). They look like this:

They're the domestic doves you see sometimes that aren't domestic pigeons.

But yes, I was completely serious: hens need to very specifically hear their own nest coo to ovulate. The way it works is this: these doves have a very specific courtship pattern, where courting males at different stages of the nesting process perform first a "bow" coo, then a nest coo. Then the hen makes a nest coo back, and the pair goes on to build a nest together in which the hen will lay fertile eggs.

If you prevent the hen from producing this coo--and the first paper I've linked does this in several different ways with both neural lesions and also mechanical blocks of the synrinx--she will not ovulate. Then Dr. Cheng tried rescuing the effect for doves who could hear but not produce their own coos by playing back recordings of devocalized doves' own nest coos, recordings of other hen's nest coos, recordings of male nest coos (their own males, I think, for preference?) and no recordings at all. Hen nest coo recordings, especially the recordings of the hens themselves, were enough to rescue ovulation effect... but deafened hens who could, themselves produce nest coos weren't able to make ovulation happen half the time even when the male was right there. The male nest coo and his mating display is really important, because his coo stimulates the female to make her nest coo, and that's where ovulation starts.

In 2003, a little over a decade later, Dr. Cheng wrote a whole book chapter about auditory self-stimulation as a phenomenon in neuroendocrine shifts. It makes for pretty interesting reading! I'm going to really enjoy it this afternoon. Stimulated ovulation is actually a pretty common phenomenon in animals--often it makes more sense to only bother ovulating if you know there's a partner around to use whatever eggs you yield up--but this one is one of the most interesting and elaborate systems out there, and definitely the one that offers the most options to a given female dove to potentially consciously control her reproductive output.

But grison, you might ask, what about the doves outside my window? Is this just a function of this one dove species, or are lots of doves doing this to make ovulation happen? So I went looking to find out whether anyone has checked. The thing is that the heyday of pigeon behavioral research has faded somewhat in the intervening decades since Dr. Cheng's discovery, so there's not as much as I might hope where people sat down to investigate the question. I did, however, find a neat study on Columba livia demonstrating that auditory stimulation is more important to courtship displays and success than visual displays are, although of course the multisensory courtship is stronger than either sensory modality alone. So yeah, the cooing back and forth really loudly is part of a display that is functionally necessary for successfully producing offspring, and the auditory component is important for basically every pigeon that has been studied in this respect (albeit that number is pitifully small).

I also found this really interesting review of known uses of birdsong to set internal emotional states in birds (either for the self or for a partner or flockmates) that I want to look into with more detail, plus this really thoughtful review from Dr. Donna Maney talking about how "incentive salience" can use learning and experience to make certain cues bring up neuroendocrine changes in state over time, which helps individuals control how their endocrine system is reacting to stimuli in the world they've been shaped by. Clearly I have some reading to do...

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 5

chapter 4 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 6

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after what happened a couple of months ago, you are ready to move forward. joel? not so much. he might need a little... prodding.

warnings: 18+, mdni. internal and verbal discussions of feelings, trauma and past relationships. some jealousy (if you squint very hard). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). again, absolutely filthy smut because i don’t know any better (sorry not sorry). fluff. voyeurism (you spy on joel). masturbation (f and m). oral (f and m receiving). finger sucking. unprotected piv. praise kink. sir kink. size kink. cum eating. a bit of cum play. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. squirting. dirty talk. you are very needy in this one and joel is very possessive over you. soft!dom!joel. aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, honey). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

a/n: hiya! first i want to thank you all for the positive feedback this series has gotten! [: i started writing this for myself mainly, and decided to post it here thinking that if a couple of people liked it, it'd make my heart happy. also, i have taken some licenses with joel's past, as neither the game nor the tv show gives many details (you'll understand what i mean). anyways! after the last chapter, our two protagonists (you!) deserve a bit of calm, peace and quiet... right? 😈 as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests/side stories if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

w/c: ~6.3k (sorry?).

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

August came around relatively quickly. Tommy had proposed you got closer to civilisation, which meant long trekking trips while the sunlight was still up. Joel agreed reluctantly, as he still thought that was dangerous. You just went along with it, letting them decide ― you didn’t really care where you ended up as long as the Millers were by your side.

Well, one of them especially.

At daytime you barely had time to yourself. However, the story was completely different at nighttime. The second you closed your eyes, snippets of what had happened two months ago flooded your memory. For the first few weeks, the nightmares were unbearable. You would wake up in the dead of night, sweaty and shaking.

And every time you woke up, Joel was by your side. He would hug you while you both laid on improvised beds, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Neither of you would talk, you would just cry in silence while your panic attack subsided ― Joel holding you throughout the whole episode. He had truly been a rock you could hold onto in the middle of a sea storm.

It got to the point where Tommy had started to realise that something was up between you two. Neither you nor Joel denied nor confirmed anything, although Tommy never asked. He would just look away when his brother would attend to you if you fell behind or would offer to do the first night shifts so Joel could be by your side at bedtime.

You were somewhat sure that Joel really cared about you. The way he would look at you… it sent shivers down your spine. The intensity in his eyes was hypnotising ― sometimes you would find yourself lost in his brown orbs, unable to look away. You also really cared about him.

You didn’t want to put a label to your feelings, mainly because you were not sure how Joel would react. You had come to understand that the man was prone to evade any topic about his feelings in general ― physical, emotional or otherwise. You could still not get him to tell you whenever he felt off. Since the blow to his head a couple of months back, Joel had been suffering with horrible headaches, to the point where he had fainted in a couple of instances.

The man was such a closed book you found out about his deceased wife the same way you knew about Sarah ― through Tommy. You assumed he had one or at least a partner at some point in time before the outbreak. The younger brother didn’t give you many details though, not that you asked either ― some wounds were better left untouched.

You liked Tommy a lot. He was a godsend ― so very different to Joel, but so similar in many ways. He was talkative and filled in long silences with stories about how they would cause mayhem at home when they were kids. You didn’t know if they were true or not, but they were entertaining nonetheless. You were under the impression that Tommy was the one who got into sticky situations and Joel was the one who had to fix them.

“I’m gonna go to the lake for a bit”, Joel told you, derailing your train of thought.

“No worries, I’ll get the fire going. Poor Tommy is always the one setting up camp”, you replied with a slight smile.

“Yeah, poor me, relegated to such unsignificant tasks”, said Tommy with a chuckle.

You smiled back and then looked in Joel’s direction. He was frowning at both of you, but quickly controlled his face expression.

“I’ll be back soon”, Joel crouched to look through his backpack, grabbing a couple of towels.

Something inside of you twisted. But you pushed the thought to the back of your head. You had already volunteered to start the fire.

You really tried to focus on the bonfire. And after a few attempts, you finally got it going. Joel had not come back yet from the lake ― it had only been ten minutes, but you were slightly worried in case he had lost consciousness again while no one was around.

“I’ll go check on him”, you told Tommy.

He looked at you with a sarcastic smile.

“Sure thing”, he replied while he started to skin a rabbit.

You rolled your eyes before you left in the direction Joel had gone.

You walked the hundred metres that separated the camp and the lake. The brothers had ensured the area was completely devoid of human existence before they decided to settle there for the night. You were now in Mark Twain National Forest, near St. Louis. You had checked out Kansas City a week ago, but both Tommy and Joel had deemed it too unsafe. So Chicago was your final destination. None of you knew what you would encounter there, but it was worth a try. The wilderness had not proven to be any safer.

Before you got to the bank of the lake, you spotted Joel in the water. He had his back towards you, your eager eyes checking out his broad shoulders, the water level up to his hips. He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back.

You stopped walking, somewhat mesmerised, your head slightly tilted to one side with curiosity. In the last two months, you had discovered a new side to Joel you didn’t know he had.

You guessed that what happened that night also affected him in a different way it did you. After he almost decapitated that man, you saw guilt in his eyes when he looked at you ― you still sometimes caught a glimpse of it to this day. As you found out later, that culpability was because he felt responsible for what those men did to you ― he really thought he could have done more. And he did in a sense, because for the next couple of days he hunted down every man in that group until there was no one left to hurt you. Apparently, that was not enough in his eyes, although it was in yours. But as much as you tried to explain that to him, it just wouldn’t sink in. He was so stubborn it made you go crazy sometimes.

Although Joel had been there for you emotionally, he had not touched you for the last two months. You managed to steal a few kisses from him and that was it. He had been extremely cautious with you in that respect. You were relieved he was as you tried to come to terms with what had happened, but after a few weeks it started to feel… frustrating. You were not broken and despite what he thought, you still had needs.

He suddenly looked over his right shoulder, offering you his side profile ― to you, he was gorgeous. Feeling like a child caught causing mischief, you quickly hid behind a tree. Joel looked around, eyebrows touching in confusion, but then he shook his head as if he was imagining things and proceeded to cup his hands in the water to wet his face.

You couldn’t not watch. You instantly realised that was the first time you saw him naked. The last ―and, regrettably, the only― time you two had sex, he was fully clothed. There was something very intimate about seeing him washing up.

You were so transfixed on the picture in front of you it was like the world had disappeared around you. Joel rubbed his skin with a hand towel ― his strong arms, his chest, his back, his lower stomach… Your breath quickened a bit, your heart picking up a pace. Everything about him invited you in ― it wasn’t only his rugged appearance that appealed to you, but also his character.

You started to feel hot. Had the temperature suddenly gone up? It seemed like it. Joel put the hand towel on his left shoulder. When you saw his right hand disappear below the water in front of him, your mouth went dry wishing it was your hand. You wanted to help him clean his manhood so badly ― memories of his delightful cock rocking you into a trance short-circuited your brain.

Before you could stop yourself, you placed one hand on your belly, biting your bottom lip. You finally gave in to temptation, pushing past the edge of your panties. You dipped two fingers in your slit, doing circular movements around your clit. Your eyes, albeit halfway closed in pleasure, could not leave Joel as he kept on freshening up. You pushed down your fingers a bit more, sliding one of them in your needy hole.

You closed your eyes, a half-smile showing on the corner of your lips. That felt so good. If Joel was going to do nothing about it ― fine, you would. Still behind the tree, out of sight, you held on to the bark with your free hand, upping the rhythm of your wet fingers, your thumb rubbing that tight knot in your fold. Then you slightly opened your eyes again ― you wanted to stare at Joel while you came.

But he wasn’t there anymore. You frowned, confused, but you were too busy to worry about that right now. So you closed your eyes again to fully focus on the task at hand. You leaned your forehead against the tree, feeling your orgasm wash over you with intensity. You pressed your lips, suppressing a moan as to not alert Joel of your presence.

“Am I interrupting?”, his soft voice forced you to glance in his direction with starry eyes.

He was on your righthand side, just half a metre away from you. Entirely naked in all his glory, an erection creeping up on him. You were speechless, partially because you had been caught spying on him and partially because you were still feeling the last remnants of your climax, your inner walls crying for something to choke.

“I―I…”, you really tried to excuse yourself, but your voice faltered when your eyes checked him out from top to bottom.

His body was chiselled, his muscles somewhat defined, especially around his waist. He had a pronounced V line with a hairy, happy trail which you avidly followed with your eyes until you were gifted with the sight of his veiny cock. You unconsciously licked your bottom lip.

Your fingers were still dunked in your warm pussy. Joel grabbed your wrist and took your hand out of your underwear, raising it to eye level. Your digits were sticky, covered in your own cum. You should feel ashamed, but you definitely didn’t. Not with him. Joel looked into your eyes, and, without breaking visual contact, he brought your slick fingers closer to his face. With no hesitation, he opened his mouth and pushed them into it, licking them clean. You felt your cunt gushing, eyelids half closed. You could have easily come again for him, but he released your fingers far too quickly for your liking.

“You naughty girl”, he whispered as he pulled you from the wrist to get you closer to his chest. “You taste even better than what I imagined”.

“I didn’t think you were…”

“Aware of your presence? Always, darlin’”, he finished for you.

Your cheeks burnt when he freed your wrist and lifted your chin up. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, his mouth just an inch away from yours. You bowed to kiss him, but he backed up a little, denying you.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?”, he asked, you could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

You nodded vehemently.

“Yes, please, Joel, I really need to feel you, to have you fuck me senseless”, you emphasized, short-breathed.

He seemed to consider your words for longer than what was acceptable. You saw his eyes flying between yours and your lips.

“Please?”, you begged.

Your prayers might have been heard, because he leaned forward, brushing your mouth with his.

“Then go down on your knees, darlin’”, he whispered against your lips.

You silently gasped as your clit pulsed at his words. You were delighted to follow his command, and so you kneeled compliantly.

When your knees touched the grass, his cock was at eye level. You couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. His dick was as big as you remembered, the memory of it filling you up still haunted you. It was so erected now that the tip touched his belly button. Joel looked so strained you thought he had to be in pain. And you were more than willing to help him alleviate it.

You moved your hand forward, but before you could try to wrap your fingers around him, Joel stopped you.

“No, with your mouth”, was his order.

You intertwined your fingers on your lower back and inclined your heard towards him. You gazed up at him, his jawline very tense. You let your tongue out and shyly tapped his glans with the tip. Joel closed his eyes immediately and grumbled loudly as his cock twitched in front of you.

That was all you needed to spur you on. You widely opened your mouth to house his manhood and sealed your lips around the head, the tip of your tongue trying to push open the slit on his foreskin. You played with him for a bit while your jaw relaxed. Then you started to push him in further and further down your mouth, as far as you could take him. His glans pushed past your uvula, you could barely breathe, just as you had imagined a few months ago ― a dream come true. You bobbed your head back and forth, feeling him in your throat, your eyes watering. But you were still not close to have his dick entirely in your mouth ― he was so damn big.

Joel growled in ecstasy as he looked down to you. The sight of you on your knees with your mouth stuffed, bright beautiful eyes, your tongue maliciously inciting him… He just couldn’t believe how giving you were.

“Look at you with your mouth so full”, he said placing one of his hands under your chin. He could feel his own cock expanding your throat. “You look so damn pretty, baby”.

You leaned back a bit, releasing most of his erection except for the tip. With the help of one hand you started pumping his shaft, the other gently massaging his balls. Joel eyed you intensely while you ate him up like a lollypop. His salty flavour inundated all your senses, your eyes pinned on his.

His fingers clenched in frustration.

“Shit, stop, I’m gonna come”, he mumbled as he pushed back to free his dick from your wicked lips.

No way in hell, you thought. He was not about to deny you that. You had been thinking about this moment for fucking months, you wouldn’t let him take that pleasure away from you.

You grasped him by his ass, your palms firmly pressing on his buttocks to take his cock even deeper. You then gave him head as best as you knew how, fastening the rhythm when you felt the pulsation coming from him.

“Fuck, baby―”, he moaned your name as he came in your hot, wet cavity.

You felt his spent hit the back of your throat. It was so tangy and musky. You swallowed all of it. Ah, delicious, you thought gleefully. You let go of his ass and released his dick from the prison of your lips.

You placed the palms of your hands on your knees, still on the ground, and glanced up at him innocently with a sweet smile painting your face. You then opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show Joel you had eaten all his cum ― a bridge of spit connecting the tip of your tongue to his glans.

He dropped one hand to break off the arch of saliva between you and him with his index, and fed it to you ― you gladly accepted, sucking his finger clean.

“Did I do good, sir?”, you asked with a small voice, looking for praise.

“Good? You did fucking splendid, sweetheart”, you beamed with the compliment and got up to your feet when he offered you a hand.

He took your hand, walking behind him as he headed towards the lake. He turned around to face you and kissed you slowly, his tongue caressing your palate. He then took a step back. The sun was setting on his back, the orange and red lighting reflecting off the waterbed. His brown eyes, bearded jaw, hooked nose, his hair curling at the nape of his neck… He looked like a roman God ― Mars, you thought. Joel looked like a man about to fight for his life and yours on the battlefield.

He sat down on a massive flat rock one metre away from the bank of the lake, which was approximately two metres wide in both directions.

“Now undress for me, baby”, he instructed.

You did not hesitate ― all your clothing fell to your feet, piece by piece, while Joel eagerly watched the show you put on. He wetted his bottom lip while he readjusted his cock on his lap. You stood there with dreamy eyes, awaiting. He motioned one hand towards the rock he was sat on, an invitation for you to join him.

Once you were sat on his right, he placed his left hand around the front of your neck ― a very slight touch that forced you to flatten your back against the rock while he positioned himself on top of you. He bit your chin while his left hand put a sweet amount of pressure on your throat. You could tell he was controlling himself.

“My turn”, he whispered, coming off you.

He got off the rock, kneeling on the ground in front of you. You put your elbows down on the rock to lift your torso and be able to look at him, your knees bent, the sole of your feet against the cold surface of the rocky platform. Joel grabbed you by the hips and scooted your ass over to the edge of the rock. Your legs were firmly pressed against each other, trying to hide your quivering cunt ― suddenly you felt shy.

“Spread your legs open for me, darlin’, lemme see”, he commended you with his hands on your knees.

You couldn’t say no to him, you didn’t want to. So you obeyed, dropping your legs to the sides, offering him your dripping fold. He traced your slit with his index, and you moaned.

“You’re so fucking wet already. So receptive, aren’t you?”, he asked looking at you dead in the eye, his finger sinking in between your legs, looking for the entrance. “Who gets your pussy so wet?”, he pushed his fingertip in your hole, and you groaned loudly. “Who, darlin’? Use your words”.

“You, only you, sir”, you gasped.

“This is mine”. He pushed in the second phalange.

You closed your eyes, trying to control your breathing.

“All yours, yes”.

His finger got completely sucked in down to his knuckle, stroking your g-spot. You harshly pressed your lips.

“Exactly, don’t you dare forget that”, his tone was so serious you looked at him enigmatically, not really understanding where that sudden possessiveness came from, but you loved every bit of it. And you were more than happy to put his doubts to rest.

You nodded frantically.

“I would never, sir, I swear my pussy is all yours”, you really meant it.

“As it should be”, he added a second finger as he leaned forward and kissed your mound.

You sighed, eyes teary, and flattened your back against the rock again, as Joel made out with the fatty skin above your clit. He introduced a third finger, all of them rubbing your anterior wall. Then his mouth dropped and sucked in your clit. Your knees trembled while you held both of your breasts, playing with your nipples and biting down your lip to stop your wanton screams. He insisted with his kissing until your wet cunt started fluttering around his fingers, a clear tell you were about to come. He stroked your clit with his teeth, very lightly, sending shivers up your spine. Your legs pressed against his head, tension building up. And then, finally, sweet release. You came so hard on his mouth, and he drank it all.

He unburied his head from in between your legs and glanced at you with a sufficient smile.

“You taste even better directly from your creamy cunt, baby”, you were glad he was so talkative during sex, especially if it was to praise you.

Joel placed the palm of his hand over your mound, his fingers covering your damp pussy, and rubbed with just the right amount of friction. You exhaled slowly.

“I’m gonna make you come again”, he promised.

You pursed your lips, your cunt palpitating at the prospect.

“I don’t know if I can―”, you uttered under your breath.

He raised an eyebrow, almost as if he was offended. Joel grabbed your thighs and pulled towards him; the back of your knees placed on his shoulders.

“Don’t doubt me, of course you can. I said I’ll make you”, his mouth was so close to your moist pussy you felt his cool breath on your damp skin.

You whimpered when his tongue swept your entire slit unhurriedly, from your perineum to your clit, his hand climbing up your body to squeeze one of your breasts firmly. Joel repeated that move a few times ― and your brain chemistry would be changed forever after that. He briefly pinched your nipple while he paid special attention to the core of your pleasure. Joel smothered your clit with his lips ― you closed your eyes while placing a hand over his on your boob.

Joel’s tongue stopped torturing you for a second. He nudged your clit with the tip of his hooked nose and then inhaled your sweet smell. That scent was making him go wild with lust to the point where he started fisting his cock, the tip already leaking with precum. He flattened his tongue against your swollen lips, wiggling it through the slit to touch your needy hole. He could not believe you were this wet for him ― if he had the chance, he would drink from your seeping fold every single day. This was how ambrosia tasted like ― he was damn sure of it.

He placed his hands to each side of your puffy flaps to spread your pussy open, while the tip of his tongue slipped inside of you. Your free hand flew to his head, fisting a handful of hair. Your toes clenched as he started to fuck your hole with his tongue. You felt your whole uterus contracting so hard it was almost painful. Your cum started to ooze out as a new orgasm hit you with full force, yelling his name. Joel did not waste any of it, licking it off you shamelessly.

What just happened ― that felt like sin, the most beautiful sin you had ever experienced. Your breathing was so irregular you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Then you heard Joel snickering as he got back up to his feet.

“See? Told ya”, he said smugly as you placed the elbows on the rock to lift your chest and glance at him.

He was jerking off, his cock ready for you again. You sat back up and leaned forward, your hands on his muscular thighs as you kissed the slippery tip, the shaft, then his balls. You showered pecks all over his manhood, worshipping it.

“S-sorry, sir, can I ask? Is your cock only mine? P-please?”, you asked in between smooches, almost panting, looking at him with puppy eyes.

Joel’s irises were swirling with desire, his hips slightly slanted forward towards your mouth, his dick visibly spasming while he caressed your cheek.

“All yours, yes”, he replicated your exact words, your heart fluttering with contempt.

You smiled at him before licking his testicles again ― your hand pushing his shaft against his lower belly to give you better access. Your eyes never abandoned his as your saliva covered his soft ball sacks.

This time he did step back, and you let him.

“I need you inside me, please”, you murmured.

His jaw was so tight he didn’t dare to speak. Joel could feel his heartbeat on his cock, all because of you and your wanton mouth. You looked so damn beautiful ― on your knees, staring at him through your eyelashes, patiently waiting. He knew you very well by now, fully conscious that as sweet as you were acting now, that was it ― an act. And he loved every bit of it. He liked the way you replied to him when sex wasn’t involved, taking no shit from anyone, your snarky remarks driving him crazy.

Joel sat down on the rock and motioned for you to join him on his lap. You joyfully obliged, sitting atop of him. Your knees to each side of his waist, your bust against his, skin to skin. Your nipples grazed his chest, becoming harder at the electric contact. He cupped both of your boobs and pushed them up, so he could kiss them tenderly. You sighed, your mouth against his ear. Still holding your breasts, he unattached his lips from your nipples to peck your chin.

“Fuck me, darlin’”.

You looked down between you two. His erection was so prominent you knew it was hurting him. And you could ease that pain for him. Heaving, you lifted your hips up and grabbed his dick. It was hard but soft at the same time, velvety, very warm and beating. So sensitive to the touch he groaned ― music to your ears. You hugged his neck with your free arm as you guided his tip to your leaking entrance.

With a sudden drop of your hips, you impaled yourself harshly ― his bollocks kissing your tumid lips. You circled your hips against his, very slowly, which made you both moan in unison. Then you raised your body, his cock slipping out completely. Holding him from the base, you came down on him sharply again.

Joel was close to losing his mind. If you did that one more time, he wasn’t going to be able to hold it for much longer. You seemed to understand that, because you started to rock your hips back and forth, up and down. He kneaded your ass, feeling your rhythm, spurring you on. His fingers squeezed the skin under them while he kissed your collarbone. His mind was completely blank ― he could only focus on your sweet pussy hugging him, choking him. His dick felt so wet, so hot, throbbing for release… You kept on riding him, your movements growing erratic as you both were close to climax.

You surrounded Joel’s neck with both arms, pressing your breasts against his handsome face, your hips flushed with his, as your cunt angrily convulsed around his erection in blissful liberation. Joel held it together while you recovered, his hands still on your ass cheeks, fingers so clutched they were close to dislocating.

“Baby, if you don’t get off, I’m―”, pain smeared his tone. He was really fighting for his life right there and then.

“Oh, sorry”, you said with a small voice, still feeling your own pleasure. You elevated your hips, so his manhood popped out with a squelching sound.

You were not going to leave him hanging, obviously. So you kneeled before him, in between his strong legs, and kissed his tip. Joel sighed loudly when you closed off your lips around him for the second time today and pumped his shaft fast and strong, milking him dry. A minute later, your throat was clogged with his spent. A drop of it trickled down the corner of your mouth.

Joel leaned forward and caught the cum off the corner of your mouth with his thumb before rubbing it on your lips. Then he kissed you wetly, devouring you. He could never have enough of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you whispered with a smile when he was done assaulting your mouth.

He just smiled back. A genuine smile, the first you had seen from him. It tugged at your heart a little.

You were still feeling restless. Although you had orgasmed four times already, your pussy lips were so inflamed you thought you were on your way down to hell. Still on your knees in front of him, you softly massaged your sensitive clit. It was burning ― you suppressed a sob as you glanced up at him, lips slightly parted.

“What is it? Is your tight pussy still gushing, sweetheart?”, he asked you, cupping your chin.

You nodded, tears of frustration blurring your vision.

“I need more, I can’t ― my pussy is on fire, sir”, you muttered, feeling sorry for yourself. You were in a heightened state of sensory overload.

“Let me help you with that then”, you almost cried of relief at his words.

You quickly got up and kneeled on top of his lap again. He slipped a hand in between your bodies to caress your core. Your flesh trembled at the touch. Suddenly you realised you desperately needed to find your own rhythm ― you didn’t have to communicate it, Joel understood it in a second. He stopped and let you do what you had to do. You placed the palm of your hands on his shoulders and started rubbing your pussy against the side of his still hand. You slid your cunt further up to his elbow, and then returned back to his wrist. Your clit greedily welcomed the tingling sensation of the hair on his forearm against your wet slit.

You kept on rocking your hips back and forth on his forearm, pressing hard against it, sliding, rubbing and causing as much friction as you could, the heat in your belly flowing down to your crotch. You buried your fingers in his wet hair and tilted his head backwards so you could rest your forehead against his. Your inner walls contracted extremely hard and then you let go, squirting plentifully for a few never-ending seconds on Joel’s forearm. Your overstimulated cunt was leaking on top of him as if someone had opened the tap of your pleasure and couldn’t close it. When the last wave of your climax abandoned you, you looked down to see how it all trickled down from his forearm onto his lap.

You closed your eyes, content, when he gently tapped your pussy a few times. You breathed in deeply, feeling completely satisfied, finally at peace. Then you pecked his lips with gratitude.

“Better now, baby?”.

“Yes, infinitely better. I―I’m sorry I made a mess”.

“Don’t you apologise for that”.

You both remained in that position for a few minutes ― his now relaxed, wet cock warmly lodged between the flaps of your still dribbling cunt. He hugged your waist to bring you closer to him, his mouth brushing yours in a moment of calmness you had not experienced with him yet.

When his lips released yours, you placed your cheek against his right shoulder, your fingertips tracing the scar on it. Silence ensued, neither of you felt the need to fill it with words.

As much as you fought against yourself, you had feelings for Joel. Although you probably didn’t know all his faces, you knew enough about him to love him. The way he would have you on your tiptoes with his sarcastic comments, his bluntness, his rudeness, the way he would snap back at you when you pressed his buttons ― but also his kindness, his caring side, his softness, how he worried about you making sure you were okay, his demanding sexual needs, the way he made you feel when his hands mapped out your skin.

But you were not sure what he thought about all of this. In some respects, his mind was inscrutable. It was part of his charming personality, you guessed. You kissed the scar on his shoulder as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“I love how you smell”, he murmured.

“Is that the only thing you love about me?”, you couldn’t resist, the words just slipped out of your mouth. You wished you could take them back, but it was too late for that.

Joel slightly froze in place at your question. He couldn’t deny that he had started to develop feelings for you. The way you looked at him made him want to be a better person. Although you drove him crazy sometimes, you made his days bearable, a shining beautiful light amongst so much darkness. You were his lighthouse, guiding him to shore. He just needed to learn how to surf through the violent waves before he could safely approach the coast.

Knowing how close he had been to losing you had opened his eyes to a new, unknown reality. He would literally kill for you if he had to ― he had already done it and would do it all over again without blinking. No regrets whatsoever.

But he had some unresolved trust issues when it came to romantic relationships. Joel married Sarah’s mother, Charlotte, when they were both twenty-one years old, as soon as they knew they were expecting. The first two years were very hard on them both, parenthood was not a piece of cake. Resentment had grown between them, to the point where Charlotte had accused him of robbing her of her fun years, which led her to cheat on him. They tried to salvage their marriage for the sake of Sarah, but they never did ― Charlotte died in a car accident while on a heated, angry phone call with Joel.

He locked away those thoughts ― it wasn’t the time nor the place to dwell on the past. Not when he had you with him.

“I… well, no. I love everything about you, sweetheart”, he conceded.

Your heart skipped a beat with joy. No, it wasn’t a love confession, but it was much more than what you were expecting of him. You turned your face against his neck and placed a kiss on his Adam’s apple.

“C’mon, let’s freshen up, I want to clean my mess off you, I do feel a bit bad”, you said with a chuckle.

You got off his lap, the cool breeze touching your sweaty skin. You offered him a hand, which he took, standing up behind you. Without letting go of his fingers interlaced with yours, you guided him to the water. It was cold, but you ventured inside with Joel following you. When the level was up to your waist, you turned around in Joel’s embrace.

You proceeded to wash off your cum and his off his cock, his lap, his forearm. When you were done, he kissed the top of your head. His left hand did the same to you, his fingers caressing your pussy, cleaning the proof of your shared pleasure. He did so not in a sexual way, but in a caring, intimate way. A minute later, you both disappeared beneath the water to emerge a second later, to wash off all the sweat. You found yourself in his arms again, your cheek against his chest ― you could hear his heart beating loudly but steadily.

“Joel, I―”, you didn’t know where to start. There were thoughts you had been wanting to put into words for a while now. “What happened to me sucks and I still die a bit inside when the memories come back at night. But none of it was your fault, nor mine. I do not want those bastards to win, to ruin my life. And my life with you. And I know it will take time to heal that part of me, or maybe it will never heal, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. I want you so badly, Joel, but what I do not want is you walking on eggshells around me. I’m not broken, I want to move forward, not get stuck in the past. Do you understand what I mean?”, you asked, your cheek still against his chest, looking up at him.

His eyes were focused on yours. His heart shrunk a bit, sharing your pain. If he could, he would take it away, all of it ― the fear, the panic attacks, the agony, the memories, the nightmares. But he couldn’t change the past. So, he nodded.

“I do, honey”, he whispered as he bowed down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You both stood there for a few more minutes, hugging each other in silence. Then Joel grumpily ended the embrace.

“We should get back, Tommy is going to kill us”.

You laughed because it was so true. You both got out of the lake, towelled down and got dressed. You started walking towards the campsite besides him ― your hand in his, fingers entangled. When you saw the tent and Tommy’s outline against the fire, you got ready to release his hand. But he didn’t let go when Tommy turned around to look at both of you.

You tried to hide a soft smile ― and failed.

The younger Miller noticed you holding hands but made no comment about it. But he did smile. A very wide smile.

“Well, about damn time, dinner is almost ready”, he said with amusement, pointing to the rabbit impaled with a stick roasting on top of the fire. “If you took any longer, the rabbit was going to come back to life and run away”.

“Always so theatrical, Tommy”, you chuckled.

[jazziejax]

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’, 𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’

"Wait.you fucked both?!"

"Shut the fuck up, Mary."

"Oh, you nasty freak! Why didn't I know about this right after it happened?! Did you do it at the same time?"

"We are in a church parking lot! Have some couth!"

It's the summer of 2003 in the deep heat of Mississippi, and Juicy's just trying to live life loud-jewelry clinking, hips swinging, and lip gloss always fresh. Between running around with Mary, eating good southern cooking, keeping her name clean in a town full of loose talk, all while taking a break from behind a perfect college student, Juicy doesn't have time for love... not that it stops love from finding her anyway.

The Moore twins are back, and so are the memories they all tried to keep buried. Elijah 'Smoke' Moore is silent and steady. And he still had those burning eyes like he knew things she hasn't even admitted to herself yet. Observant as ever. And Elias 'Stack' Moore is still as bold, reckless, and shameless in the way he flirts, always saying the wrong thing at the right time just to see her blush.

It was just like old times. They're her brothers best friends, and she's not supposed to fall for either of them-let alone both. But in the hectic summer of '03, feelings begin to slip through the cracks as they all depend on one another, just how they did when they were younger.

What starts as teasing glances and late-night conversations grows into something tender, tangled, and far more complicated than Juicy ever expected. She's never been one to choose between sweet and wild... so why start now?

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 | ★ ★ ★ ★

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 | 𝐒𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | ★ ★

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐤 | ★ ★ ★

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 | *𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 | ★ ★ ★ ★

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 | 𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧 | ★ ★ ★

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 | 𝐖𝐞𝐭 ‘𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 | ★ ★ ★ ★

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 | …

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | …

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 | …

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐧 | ….

If you would like to be added to the tag list, comment on this post!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 🗑️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬★ ★ ★ ★ ★

[psychemochanight]

What do you think about the labels for Robins? Especially the "happy robin" and the "angry robin"?

Dude, you've opened a Pandora's box there-

I've said before that I'm against these labels, especially the "angry Robin" one, but I think the one that bothers me the most is the "happy Robin" one, and yes, I have reasons-

I haven't been in the fandom for years, but from what I saw, tags started to become popular after Damian came out. Specifically with the "angry Robin" one, which was assigned to him.

Then, people started arguing that it was actually Dick the "angry Robin", usually using as a reference his animated version, both the one from Batman (2004) and the one from Teen Titans (2003), which are the same Dick Grayson btw.

As I once said, the "angry Robin" label bothers me because it encompasses so much of Dick's character, especially since most of it comes from an exaggeration of his character, not an actual trait. Dick was never bloodthirsty as they say, yes, he wanted revenge for his parents, but his moral compass was ALWAYS on the right side. In his time, he was always considered an optimistic and charismatic character, yes, with a strong character when necessary, but never "mainly angry."

Dick was literally the heart of the dynamic duo. The color in the darkness, the light in the shadow of Batman.Where do they get that he was always angry??? His angriest moment was in his early years as Nightwing, not even Robin.

And no, he didn't leave Batman because "he was too soft" either, in the versions where Dick leaves Bruce, this is because Batman is controlling, he doesn't treat Dick as his equal, but as his subordinate, even despite the years working together.

Now, the "happy Robin" tag, Ironically, it is assigned to Jason specifically due to his pre-Crisis appearances, since post-Crisis, although there were moments where he was still optimistic and liked his work as Robin, he was more rebellious.

Why do I say it's ironic that they call Jason the "happy Robin" because of his pre-Crisis moments? Because it was at those times that Jason was considered a carbon copy of Dick Grayson, story included.

Those joyful moments that stand out so much about him were a copy of Dick's personality, moments that so many people hated back then. Remember, especially in the golden and silver ages, Dick was known for being optimistic and a symbol of hope, Robin was that.

Even if we only take into account his post-Crisis stage, yes, Jason still enjoyed being Robin, but he was still rebellious and had his moments being troubled. Just like Dick, he was not "just happy" or "just angry".

In theory, to recap, it's even likely that Dick will have more moments of being a ray of sunshine than Jason, although this is obviously partly due to him being Robin for longer.

I never liked both labels, because, first, it makes them flat characters, and second, because most of them are due to fandom exaggerations, not anything well founded.

Does it affect me in any way? No, not at all; but it becomes annoying when it is used as an argument for an argument.

"Dick was Batman's shining light", No, it's impossible, he was the bloodthirsty and angry robin.

"Jason had his moments of being rebellious and argued with Batman," No. It's impossible, you're confusing him with Dick, Jason was Bruce's happy and adorable baby.

???????

Jason was a teenager, OF COURSE HE'S GOING TO ARGUE SOMETIMES, LET MY BOY HAVE NORMAL TEENAGER MOMENTS.

Dick was a child, LET MY BABY HAVE HAPPY TIMES, NOT PURE ANGST IN HIS SHORT LIFE.

BOTH were happy, BOTH were angry, BOTH were intelligent Robins.

Shut the fuck up /jjjjjj

And seriously. Despite all this, I don't mind that people still prefer to see Jason as a happy Robin, or Dick as a wild Robin, that is up to each person and what adaptation of the character they prefer.

I'm just saying that it gets annoying when they want to IMPOSE on you those same versions that they prefer, especially when you choose to see beyond that.

And many times these labels seem to be just to praise their favorites, without really taking into account the stories of the other Robins-

I love reading when they give all the Robins all the values and character nuances, they're not just "happy" or "angry" or "smart" or "calm." Being able to read the Robins as having all these characteristics, but expressing them in different ways is what makes them so special to me.

Idk-

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 9 🍒

"First Time for Everything"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 3,251

Summary: a continuance from Chapter 8 - pizza, movies, and.. dessert 

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, adult language, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), takes place in summer 2003, fluff, idiots in love, secret relationship, underage drinking (reader drinks a beer), horny!Joel, bit of an innocence kink, fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), reader has some experience w/oral), open conversation about sex & experience, daddy kink, use of nicknames (daddy, babygirl, cumslut), come eating, softDom!Joel, reader's race not mentioned but described as tomboyish, reader has hair long enough for Joel to grab, no use of y/n (if I missed any tags lemme know!)

Author's Note: more smut. but, like, romantic smut. I know there's been a few mentions of underage drinking, I'm just going by my own experiences at that age. If you want to drink, wait until you're 21!

Series Masterlist

It's late when the rain stops and even then you and Joel are oblivious to it, lost in each other, sweaty, satiated though all you've done is touch and kiss. You could do more, but the park is closing and so you clean up as best you can and get dressed to head back to your car.

On the drive back, you hold hands. Your skin is warm, your heart is singing. You're in love for the first time in your life. No longer shy, you can't help admiring Joel, watching him as he drives, your body humming pleasantly each time he looks at you and gives you that damn smirk. You love him and he loves you. It's too wondrous a possibility to wrap your mind around.

Your car is the only one in the Starbucks parking lot. "You oughta start parkin' underneath the light poles, you'll be safer that way," Joel tells you, his finger stroking your bare thigh.

"But I like parking near the front," you tell him, even as you delight in this little intimate gesture of his.

"Don't be stubborn." His voice holds a hint of authority. You playfully grumble and kiss his cheek. He walks you to your car, holding your hand, ever your knight in t-shirt and jeans. "Is that a Toyota Tercel? You know they stopped makin' these five years ago," he teases you.

"It was my dad's," you say with more solemnity than you realize. He puts his arm around you and you lean into him where it's warm and safe. "I'm surprised no one's broken into it yet. It doesn't lock."

Joel laughs, a deep grumble that always brings a smile to your face. "Jesus, girl. You are a mess."

"Yeah, but you love me."

He kisses you softly on the mouth. "Bet your ass I do. We still on for tonight?"

"Absolutely. And thanks for the ride."

"Which one?"

You give him a confused look until you see him break into a playful grin. Laughing, you hit his arm. "I'll see you at the house in a bit. I'm sure we both need to shower after that ride."

He nods a little sheepishly. "I'll follow you home to make sure you get there safe."

And even though you only live ten minutes away from the cafe, you are moved by his protectiveness.

You and Joel have agreed to keep your feelings for each other private from Sarah, at least for now, while it's still new for both of you. You have to act normal around him and it feels unnatural because what is natural is wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his neck where you can feel his pulse beneath your kiss.

After pizza, the three of you settle down to watch a movie. You like the feeling of being with family, even if it's not necessarily your own. "What did y'all decide on?"

"I want to watch a horror movie," Sarah answers you with confidence.

"You'll get nightmares," Joel warns her. "Why don't we let our guest choose?"

"I'm a huge horror fan, so I'm sure I'll love whatever you have in mind," you tell Sarah.

"'Nightmare on Elm Street,'" she replies right away and you can see Joel rolling his eyes behind her.

You stifle a smirk. "A classic. Let's get started."

On the sofa, you and Sarah sit on either side of Joel. Sarah leans her head on her dad's shoulder and you take hold of his hand, hiding it between your laps. With the lights down and the movie playing on the TV you have the urge to cuddle up with him, hoping for a moment soon when you can do exactly that.

A particularly scary jump scene startles you and you hide your face in Joel's shoulder before you even realize what you're doing. "Sorry," you whisper, straightening up. Joel give you a soft smile and Sarah giggles at you from the other side of him. Every now and then she takes a glimpse at you and at Joel, unbeknownst to you.

"Well, I'm not going to sleep anytime soon," you announce when the credits start rolling. "Wanna take a stretch and then watch another?"

Sarah's half-asleep on Joel's shoulder. "I'm ready for a break, Dad.." she mumbles.

You smile. "I can't blame her. We did get a late start on the evening. You think maybe we should call it a night?" But the truth is you're not ready to go home.

Joel laughs. "I swear, this girl loves to try to keep me awake till 2 in the mornin' watchin' movies most of the time. I think I better get her to bed."

You smile. "Of course. I'll be here." With a pang of jealousy you watch as Joel carries Sarah upstairs to her room. When was the last time your father did that for you? You open a couple bottles of beer and hand one to Joel when he comes back downstairs. "You're so good to her.. you're a good dad."

He sits back on the couch with you, taking a swig of beer. "Yeah.. I try my best for her. She's my whole world and I would do anything for her."

"That's how it should be. I wish my own dad had stuck around." You rest your head on Joel's shoulder, which you wish you'd done earlier.

He frowns. "I'm sorry your dad didn't stick around. But I'm here, sweetheart, and I'm not goin' anywhere."

You return his gaze, absorbing the significance of his words. "I know," you tell him, and lean in to kiss him. He holds you close and you taste the beer on his tongue as he explores your mouth. His fingers run through your hair and you moan as quietly as possible, wrapping your arms around him.

Softly breaking the kiss you ask, "What do you think? Should we start another movie?"

He smirks and sets you on his lap crosswise. "Not if it means I have to keep my hands off ya. Let's just.. get comfortable."

"Mm. How comfortable?" You nuzzle his neck, taking in his scent, wanting to extend this pure moment for as long as you can.

He answers you with a kiss, sweeping your hair away from your face before his hand drops down to trace across the top of your breast. You bring his hand beneath your top. "No bra? You naughty thing," he murmurs against your lips.

"You should see what else I'm missing.."

He practically salivates as he delicately reaches past the waistband of your bottoms. "No panties either." His voice is guttural, utterly primal. "Girl, what are you doin' to me?"

You press his hand further down and watch the change of expression on his face: his eyes close and his jaw tightens. The next moment he's tugging off your bottoms for better access to you.

"Wait!" you whisper, halting his progress. "Not with Sarah in the house!"

"She's a deep sleeper," he says quickly, eager to continue, licking his lips.

"Joel" you scold.

"Third step from the top has a creak. We'll hear her if she comes down."

"I mean it!" you insist. "Let's go to my place. It's empty tonight."

The speed with which you both race next door is impressive. In your room, the lights dim, Joel asks you, "Are we doin' this?"

You hesitate. In truth you were just going on pure impulse. "I just want to explore you. And I want you to explore me."

Your admission makes him growl. "Little girl, you have no idea how much I want that. I've been thinkin' about our moment in the truck all night. I barely paid attention to the movie. I was wonderin' what else you would allow me to do to you."

"Joel," you moan, and pull him on top of you on your bed. "I want your hands on me. I want you to make me come again."

It's all he can do to not rip your clothes right off you. He forces himself to go slow, starting with your shirt, pulling it off to reveal those breasts he loves to lavish attention on. He palms each one in his large hands, nibbling and swirling his tongue around your nipples, sending ripples of pleasure straight to your cunt. You're already wet for him, which he discovers when he pulls down your bottoms, revealing yourself to him once more. "Such a pretty little virgin pussy, and it's all for me," he rumbles.

There's something intimidating about being laid bare this way. The hungry look in his eyes is reminiscent of a lion stalking its prey. It's the gentle touch of his fingers at your entrance that snap you out of your apprehension. Crazy to think this man would ever hurt you. One finger presses in, testing your resistance. You give a sharp intake of breath and close your eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

You nod. "More."

He grins. "Patience." He strokes that one finger inside you, exploring. You make a little sighing sound and the look on Joel's face is obvious that he's trying like hell to hold back.

Slowly he inserts another finger. It's slightly uncomfortable but you're growing more wet with each pump of his hand. He swipes the pad of his thumb across your clit and you clench around his digits, eliciting a small gasp and praise from Joel. "Atta girl. Just like that. No need to rush. Oh you're so fuckin' tight.." He dips down to kiss you, his tongue invading your mouth once more as he fingers you. "Do you want to try three?" he rasps into your ear, lightly kissing your neck.

"Yes," you say as your heart jumps and once again you clench around his fingers. You feel that third digit stretching you out. He pumps his hand slowly, treating you with the utmost care. "See? You can take it. And soon you'll be able to take all of me." He presses a kiss to your neck, your collarbone, your chest, both breasts, and down to your stomach. Anticipation surges in your veins. You've had so little experience and Joel keeps surprising you. Each kiss upon your skin is like a lick of fire.

"Sweetheart," he murmurs as his lips move lower. You timidly part your legs and he raises your knees. "You're glistening like ripe fuckin' fruit, baby. And I wanna taste ya." He takes your impatient moan as a green light and dips his head to your cunt using his broad tongue to lick a slow stripe upwards, smiling when your legs shake. His tongue laps across your folds, teasing each little crevice before finally delving inside you. Your fingers find their way through his hair, your senses consumed with desire. "Joel.. yes!" And all other thoughts vacate your brain. Joel gives a muffled groan that vibrates against your cunt. "Oh, sweetheart, you taste so good."

You pick up your head, resting back on your elbows, and your eyes lock with his for a few sweet, burning moments. "Damn, Joel.." This image is going to be something you'll think about years from now, the sight of Joel Miller feasting on your pussy like it's his last fucking meal. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, his biceps protruding as he keeps you where he wants you. His tongue makes small circles against your clit. You whimper something completely unintelligible, grabbing his hair as you lift your hips to give him access to every part of you. Your back arches and you give a deep groan, followed by several staccato, high-pitched gasps. "Joel.. I'm gonna come!" Your nails dig into his shoulders.

"Yes, babygirl, come for me," he growls and suctions his lips around your clit. You cry out as your orgasm uncoils in the pit of your stomach. It grows and grows, radiating outward to your limbs and claims you as you give a long low moan and you press yourself to his eager mouth.

"Jesus, baby, you're makin' a mess on me," he chuckles, and you feel him lick up every last drop. "You're so fuckin' delicious. I want more."

Your mind is a sweet blank nothingness, your body completely satisfied. "I've never ever felt like that before," you whisper, meeting his gaze again. The lovingly playful look in his eyes is like an arrow to your heart. "More? I think if I have any more I'll have a heart attack." But his tongue is back, carefully avoiding your sensitive clit, lapping at each fold and planting kisses on your inner thighs until you beg for release again. Then he's sucking your clit with three fingers inside you, less gentle this time. Joel wrenches another, stronger, sweeter release from you and it's a good thing you're alone because you've never been so loud in your life.

"Damn, babygirl.. I could do this all night.."

You lose track of how long he eats you out and how many times you come, but eventually you need a respite from the onslaught of pleasure he gives you. Trying to catch your breath, Joel rests his head on your belly as you stroke his hair. The glow of the fairy lights on your headboard adds to the dreaminess of your post-orgasm tranquility. "I think I love you even more now," you whisper, and excitement builds up when he moves over you to kiss you. You taste yourself on his mouth, sharing your essence. And you can feel him through his jeans, hard against your thigh. You've been the only one receiving pleasure and you find that unfair. "I want to go down on you," you tell him.

His brows raise and you feel him grow even harder at your thigh. "Really?" He's holding back his excitement. "Only if you want to."

"I do. I like it.. that's as far as I ever went with my ex, Trevor. He wouldn't do me but I'd do him. I'm confident in my ability," you give a saucy grin.

He doesn't even blink when you mention your ex. "What an idiot to pass up on this sweet little pussy," he rumbles. His hand wanders down to the V of your legs and you smirk and remove his hand.

"I said, it's your turn. I want to make you come, and this will suffice until I'm ready for the real thing." You move onto your side, comfortable now with your nakedness because from his eyes you see you have him in thrall. "You're wearing too many clothes."

You laugh when you see just how quickly he sheds his shirt and jeans, as eager as a boy your own age. His erection juts out, tenting his boxers. Biting your lip you pull down the waistband. You commit this moment to memory, as if seeing it in slow motion. You watch in awe as his cock springs to life. "Oh my god," you whisper.

Joel smiles at your reaction. His arms are crossed behind his head. "Let me guess: I'm givin' you more to work with than he ever did?" You wordlessly nod and he puts a hand on your thigh. "Do you want it, babygirl?"

Thick. Long. Your brain can only construct basic descriptions. The base of his cock springs up from a neat nest of short, curly brown hair. A vein bulges out alongside the top, and you follow with your eyes then your hands the slight curve towards the end, the way the top half is almost a rosy pink color, and the large head that is already moist with precum. You swipe your thumb over the top and Joel hisses in pleasure. It's heavy in your hand. You give his cock a few trial pumps, feeling him flex beneath your touch. Fuck, I'm lucky. Mouth watering, you dip your head to taste him. You swirl your tongue around his very sensitive head, holding the base with your hand. Joel gives another intake of breath and you smile. Relaxing your throat you breathe through your nose as you take in the first few inches in your mouth, using your hand on his base to stroke. There's no way you'd be able to take the entirety of him down your throat, but you love the thought of trying. You bring as much of him as you can until you begin to gag, then stroke him with your saliva. As Joel watches you you can see the darkness of his gaze, the expression changing from one of powerfulness to longing to submission. And it's because of you. "I love the way you look, all laid out comfortable for me.. it's so hot." He groans again and gathers your hair back into a makeshift ponytail, gently guiding you up and down as you suck.

Your hair is tousled, eyes shining bright, lips swollen and wet. "I think you're so close, Joel.. let me help you."

"You look so fuckin' beautiful like that. Just tell me where you want it, babygirl. I might not last much longer."

You pause only a moment, wondering what he means. In the past, your ex would typically finish in a Kleenex, so you've never had a guy come in your mouth before. But where else would it go?

"Come wherever you want, daddy.." you tell him.

He stops you mid-suck. His eyes have a look you've never seen before. "What.. what did you call me?"

You realize it too late. "Daddy," you say, caught up in the moment. "Where does daddy want his babygirl to have his cum?"

It's as if you've released the Devil himself. "Down your fuckin' throat. I want to watch my babygirl swallow every drop like a good little cumslut."

You've never talked dirty to someone before, but this first time has you worked up like never before. "Cum in my mouth, daddy, give me my little reward.."

With a groan Joel tenses up, hips bucking up to thrust into your mouth. You feel his cock begin to swell and then it twitches as several jets of his warm jizz hit the back of your throat and tongue. It's thick and salty, but not unpleasant. The hottest thing about it is the way he looks at you as you take in every last drop.

You're laying side by side, breathing hard, both riding a euphoric high. The intensity of your intimacy has brought you closer together, and if you're honest, your love for him has deepened.

"You were amazing, sweetheart.. guess I didn't mean to sound so harsh to you in those last few moments. I apologize," he says.

"Not at all.. I thought it was pretty hot. It made everything more intense between us. I kinda felt like.. I don't know, like a porn star or something."

"Careful, you're gonna get me going again," he warned in a semi-playful manner. "That might've been the best I ever had." He scoffs and rubs his hands over his eyes. "Did I just say that out loud?"

"You did," you snuggle against him, your nakedness against his. "Isn't that a cliche? Don't you tell that to all your women?" you tease him.

"It's never been like this with anyone else," he says, looking into your eyes and kissing your forehead.

You touch his cheek. The roughness of his beard tickles your hand and you're pink between your thighs where his beard scratched you just moments ago. "I guess there's a first time for everything.."

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[1nk20ul]

I would love to know the birthdays of the other tma characters (particularly Gerry, Micheal Shelley, and Tim)

TMA Birthdays Revealed (Continued)

You've got it.

Let's go in the order that you requested, starting with Gerry Keay.

(This is a continuation of my previous post, where I determine Jon and Martin's birthdays to the best of my ability. Make sure to check it out if you haven't yet!)

Spoiler alert: Gerard is one of the few characters for whom we have an objectively correct/confirmed answer. Just like last time, I'll list all of the results in the tags as a TLDR. Let's begin!

As I said, Gerry's birthday is shockingly the easiest to find out of everyone in the entire main series. However, none of our clues are actually found in Archives. Rather, it's the Magnus Protocol ARG that flat-out gives us this answer. Compared to last post, I feel like I'm being spoiled.

For those unaware, chdb.xlsx (Child_Database.Excel) is a 250-row list of participants in the Magnus Institute's Gifted Child programme. Of these, last names like Dyer, Nolan, Barker, Baldwin, etc. appear, although it's possible some are simply a coincidence.

One we know is not. Behold:

(Yes, his last name is spelled Kaey in this dataset. It's an easy typo to miss in a 250-row document. Don't worry about it.)

According to Chdb, Gerry's birthday is 4th February, 1988. For those paying attention to my original Birthday post, this is exactly two days after my calculation for Jon's birthday, down to the year. This pleases me.

I'll even throw in a bonus for you. Based on his data, he is quite empathetic - yet not very susceptible to peer pressure! You're welcome, Gerrianators.

Let's move to Michael Shelley.

Unfortunately, we're not as lucky this time. Michael's age is just as twisted up as what became of him. Here's what we know:

Michael worked with Eric Delano prior to Eric's resignation in 1990, but was also hired to replace Fiona Law during or after 2003.

Michael's death was sometime between 2009-2011, however was supposedly already distorted in 2006.

Jonny joked on Twitter that Michael "is 92 at all points in the timeline."

There is virtually nothing to go off of here... The month and day are an absolute mystery to us as well. So congrats! His birthday is 92.

Thankfully, Tim is a little bit easier on us.

We need to use Danny Stoker's death as a starting point here. We know that Danny died in 2013 at no younger than 21 years old. Beforehand, Tim spent the previous 5 years at Victory House Publishing. Before that, in 2007, he completed his First in Anthropology at Trinity College. As a Bachelors degree typically takes three years to complete, we can assume Tim was most likely 18 in 2004. The birth year is easy to calculate from there.

For month, all we can do is process of elimination. Let's start with when his birth month isn't. Since the tapes contain no mention of a birthday party like Jon and Martin had prior to MAG 40 (when shit hits the fan), we know that it is less likely to be between September to mid-March, although this is mainly a mix of speculation and educated guessing. We can at least confirm the September cutoff, though, by cross-referencing age requirements for schooling in the UK. Unfortunately, this is where our luck ends. All in all, I think we still did quite well here.

Our final result is April-August 1986. He died at 31 years old. Bonus: He is anywhere from 1-6 years older than his brother. This is not a surprise to absolutely anyone.

A recap of our final results:

Gerard Keay - 4th February, 1988

Michael Shelley - Permanently 92 years old

Timothy Stoker - April-August, 1986

Thanks again, everyone. I have a wonderful time making these, it's great fun! I have a few more posts in mind that I'd like to make, so feel free to leave an Ask. See you next time!