#and I already ran away enough over the last four years

[wyn-n-tonic]

Being down bad? For a man? That’s not very hyper independent, traumatized eldest daughter of you, Wyn.

[broodybuck]

Title: The Boy Next Door

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, childhood friends, neighbors, pining, confessions, friends to lovers, first crush

Summary: Growing up, you always had a crush on the boy next door. Now, twelve years later, you might unexpectedly get your chance with Bucky Barnes.

[ao3 link]

Your parents just handed over the house you grew up in. It was that easy, now it's yours.

They want to be those typical, retired parents and move to Florida — boring! And since you've been renting a studio in Brooklyn for the past four years, you jumped at the chance to have a three-bedroom house in upstate New York. It's already paid off and your parents are wealthy enough, they don't need the earnings for their Florida condo.

You've only been back to your childhood home for holidays in the past few years. Everything has stayed the same, your parents were actually one of the few who didn't turn their daughter's bedroom into a home office or gym. They left the pink wallpaper, the twin bed with the floral comforter, and the tower of stuffed animals on the dresser.

When you arrive with your two suitcases and some extra cash in your pocket since you sold all your studio furniture, you stare up at the house. You smile from the warm memories before you glance over at the house next door.

An older boy named James lived there, but he always went by Bucky. Bucky Barnes is the name that lived in your diary for most of your adolescence. He was four years older than you which meant you had an embarrassing crush on him since you were twelve. He was nice, he always teased you when you saw each other, he even acknowledged your existence for the one year you were both in high school together — you as a freshman and him a senior.

That did wonders for your reputation, you became pretty popular even after he graduated. Still, you would've thrown away all the friends and parties for just one night with Bucky if that was a possibility.

You're not sure you ever got over your crush, more just accepted that it was never going to happen and moved on with your life. It was easy once he went away from college and three years later so did you. You never ran into him again even when you were visiting home for the holidays. It seems the Barnes' residence spent their holidays elsewhere as the house was always dark on those occasions.

Currently, it's two in the afternoon and the sun is beating down so strongly, you start to take off your jean jacket. You're sliding your arms out of the sleeves when a familiar voice makes you jump.

"Hey, y/n."

Your arms flap uncoordinatedly, still half in the jacket, pausing in an awkward position as you turn to see your childhood crush standing a few feet away from you. Bucky Barnes, looking sexier than ever.

"Oh, hi,” you splutter.

This man still has the ability to make you blush like a schoolgirl. You do some quick mental math and realize if you’re 27 now then he must be 31. And why do men age so spectacularly? He has somehow managed to become even more attractive in the last twelve years.

"What're you doing here?" you ask as you finally free your arms from the jacket.

"I'm house-sitting," Bucky explains. "What're you doing here?"

"Um, well, the house is sorta mine now."

"Parents gave you the whole thing?"

"Yep, the whole thing," you nod.

"Wow, congrats on the house," Bucky says.

"Thank you," you reply and you both stare at each other in a beat of silence.

"Um actually, since you're around, do you think I could pay you for some manual labor?" you ask suddenly.

"What kind?" Bucky grins fast. It truly takes your breath away, jesus this man should not be allowed to smile.

"I have a dumpster coming tomorrow morning," you explain. "I'm getting rid of my childhood bedroom furniture."

"Yeah, I can help."

"That would be so great, I'll pay you—"

"Don't sweat it. Just treat me to dinner sometime," Bucky shrugs, and your stomach drops. What in the world does he mean by that... like a dinner date?

"Oh, dinner... yeah, okay. You got it," you play it cool and awkward.

He smiles at you, amused.

"Anyway..." you mumble unsure how to retract yourself from this conversation, unsure if you even want to.

"You really grew up, huh?" Bucky says, and he scans you up and down.

"I guess so," you shrug, your face burning. "You too."

"Yeah, guess we haven't seen each other in..."

He appears to be trying to calculate the years but you unabashedly jump in with an exact answer.

"Twelve years."

"Has it been that long?" he asks.

"I... think so," you feign uncertainty.

"So, what time do you need me tomorrow?" he asks.

"Oh, anytime that works for you."

"How about noon?"

"Perfect."

Asking for Bucky's help might've been the worst idea you ever had. When he comes over, he's wearing a cotton-white t-shirt and jeans. His hair is damp and slicked back from a shower. He looks so comfy, it makes you imagine waking up with him. You yearn to know how warm his skin feels fresh from the steam.

You ignore your inappropriate desires and lead him up the stairs to your old room. It's then you realize how many years of your life you desperately wanted to show him your room. Have your crush see these walls, sit on your bed, and make out with you next to your teddy bear.

It's embarrassing but probably every teenage girl wanted the same thing. Unfortunately, the thought slips out of you with a laugh.

"I always wanted to show you my room."

You freeze in the doorway, realizing what you've just said out loud.

"What?" Bucky asks from behind you.

"When I was younger, I meant. I didn't mean... I don't know why I said that, actually."

You turn around and see the look of amused confusion on his face, a small smirk inching from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, fuck it. I had a major crush on you," you confess.

Bucky's eyebrows lift high.

"Yeah?"

"You couldn't tell?"

"I thought you were just awkward with everyone," he shrugs.

"Great, so you thought I was a total loser," you sigh.

"No..." he says quickly but takes a second to elaborate. "If it helps, I didn't think about you that way 'cause you were too young for me."

"Of course, you never thought about me," you brush off, trying not to let your younger self die too much inside.

You step into the room to create any amount of space from this conversation. But you instantly remember the countless hours you spent in here thinking about him. Staring out the window at his family's house hoping the catch a glimpse of him.

"Hey," Bucky says. His hand gently touches your shoulder.

You turn around to meet his eyes which oddly look darker, more intense now.

"I could see myself thinking about you now," he admits low.

You blink, your mouth is suddenly too dry to respond.

"I mean... look at you," he says so fondly that your heart could burst. And he looks you over again, his pupils dilating even more.

Is this really happening, you think.

His right hand hasn't moved from your shoulder. Boldly, you place a hand on his left forearm and you're right, his skin is still warm from the shower.

You breathe in sharply because just touching him, just standing this close for this long is something you were never lucky enough to get back then.

His eyes are still locked with yours and it's honestly so intense you can't look away even as you see him dip his head, lowering slowly to your lips. He waits, an inch from them, to see if this is okay. Of course, it's fucking okay.

You surge the last inch forward and kiss him harder than you anticipate. He stumbles a step back, in consequence grabbing onto your waist, and pushing forward. He walks you back toward the twin bed up against the wall.

When you fall back onto the mattress, it creaks from old age, but you couldn't care less. Because Bucky Barnes, your childhood crush, the extremely attractive neighbor next door, is crawling over you. And it's glorious, it's enough to make you arch up into him and moan.

He lets out a breathy laugh and then kisses you, his knee slides between your legs and presses down. You moan even louder. You're completely shameless, you are, but this is Bucky Barnes. You're not staying quiet for a second of this.

His mouth moves to your ear and he's kissing down your neck while his fingers slip under your shirt, rolling it up.

Your shirt is off and then you're pants are coming off too. You want to get him out of his clothes but his mouth finds the front of your panties and he's teasing you, mouthing at the fabric.

"Please," you whine.

He grins against your underwear and then slides the thin fabric off and sucks his thumb into his mouth.

When he touches you, he's not gentle. He goes right in and rubs your clit roughly but you're so turned on that it's like a jolt of electricity to your body, you leap up from the mattress.

He licks two fingers then and sinks them right inside you. Oh god, it's so easy because you're so wet.

"Fuck," he mutters, realizing this. He stares down, watching his fingers work inside you. Your skin boils endlessly.

He doesn't need to spend much time working you open and he must know that because it's not long before he pulls his fingers out and hurriedly works the button of his jeans open. He pulls open the fly and pushes them down when you sit up to get his shirt. You're not letting this happen without seeing that gorgeous chest again.

You remember so many summer nights when you got a glimpse of Bucky shirtless. Running through the sprinkles or coming home from a neighbor's pool. He was stunning, even back then, but now... oh lord, now he's filled out. He has a firm, thick chest and a set of perfect abs lining his torso. Because of course, he has a six-pack, you always fall for the most unattainable guys.

But somehow you have him, right here, in your very old, tiny twin bed.

You want to lick a long strip from his navel up to his neck but he doesn't give you the chance. Once his clothes are off, he pulls your legs over his waist and pushes inside you so fast you barely have time to prepare. You cling to him with your whole body, legs and arms. And you moan low.

"Oh god, you're so tight," he husks.

You tighten your hold around his neck, he looks up at you and kisses you. You're basically on his lap so start rolling your hips slowly, getting used to how big he feels inside you.

You push him back until he lies down. And then you're riding him. You're riding Bucky Barnes in your childhood bedroom on top of your pink comforter with yellow flowers.

This is your teenage dream come true and that realization plows through you, making you ride him even harder, snapping your hips as fast as you can over his cock. And it's enough that you get a moan out of him, a low gravelly groan that you immediately fawn over.

His fingertips dig into your skin as you keep riding him fast and hard. You know you're nearing the edge, your head falls with a whimper, you grip his shoulders tighter.

"Fuck, y/n. Come for me," he breathes.

And you lose all control the moment you hear that. Fuck, you come so hard.

"Oohhh, fuckkk," you wail and stop moving to let the orgasm crash through you.

Then his hands lift your ass, just enough so he can raise his hips and start fucking into you.

"Jesus," you hiss and scramble to hold onto him again.

He keeps fucking you, gaining speed and making your eyes roll back from the fact that your orgasm can't wane with his cock repeatedly slamming right into you.

He groans, squeezing the flesh on your ass now and you can tell he's close.

He curses under his breath and then he's coming and still fucking you so hard your vision's blurring.

When he finally slows down, he blows out a long breath. He releases his grip on your ass and closes his eyes, basking in the aftermath of his orgasm.

You can feel his cock twitch one last time inside you. You carefully try to pull off him. He winces as you do, still sensitive. You lean down and kiss him, you can't help yourself.

He smiles when you break to let him catch his breath. Okay, he's totally allowed to smile when he's naked in your bed, you decide. You admire the sight for as long as he lets you.

"Well, fuck," he laughs.

"Yeah, fuck," you agree, smiling. "Not sure if I should thank you for your help yet."

He laughs. "I haven't done anything yet."

"Oh, you've done plenty," you tease and plant another kiss on his lips.

He smirks at you and runs his hands up your sides, gentle and light.

"I'll help you move the furniture," he says. "Just give me a few minutes."

"Yeah, I need a few too," you say. "At least this bed is going out with a bang."

And you both laugh. Then you look at him and already remember what he said to you yesterday. You remember almost every word he's ever uttered to you.

"So, about that dinner," you say.

He smiles wide and just kisses you.

[msbigredmachine]

Nothing Left (Roman Reigns)

The tale of a marriage built on trust, torn apart by lies, and a woman’s breaking point that should never have been reached.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: Angst, dark themes, graphic content ahead

Word Count: 3.8k

Please check out my masterlist for all my other content!

The air in the mansion was different now. Thick, suffocating—like grief had taken up residence in the walls and refused to leave. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the cold cup of coffee Roman had poured for me this morning before he left for his latest “business meeting”. The smell of hazelnut creamer was sickly sweet, and I pushed it away as bile rose in my throat.

He was with her again. He didn’t say it outright, but he didn’t have to. My husband had a way of leaving breadcrumbs too obvious to ignore yet always denied when confronted. The gym bag packed with his best Jordans, the cologne he reserved for date nights, the freshly lined-up beard that hadn’t been between my legs in months…Roman wasn’t as subtle as he thought. But every time I brought it up, every time I asked for the truth, his voice would drop low, dangerously calm, like I was the one losing my mind.

“Why you always tryna start some shit, huh?” he’d said just last week, his jaw tightening as he leaned against the doorframe of our bedroom. “You think I don’t have enough pressure on me already? You don’t trust me? After all these years?”

The years. Ten years of marriage. A decade of giving everything I had—my time, my heart, my future. Waiting for him to prioritize me, to want what I wanted, to see me the way I saw him. Years of walking on eggshells, smoothing over cracks in a foundation I thought was unshakable. Ten years of loyalty, of devotion, of standing by his side while he chased dreams we once shared.

And what did I get in return? A hollowed-out shell of a man who wasn’t mine anymore. Maybe he never was. Maybe I was fooling myself all along, believing I could be enough for someone who was never content with what he had.

But nothing could’ve prepared me for the audacity of her. The way she waltzed into my life with her smug smile and flawless facade, acting like she belonged. Like she’d earned a place in the world I built. As if she wasn’t trying to steal my husband, my dreams, and my future right out from under me.

-----------------------

Her name was Brooke Harper. Twenty-four. A fitness influencer with a perfectly curated Instagram full of green smoothies, waist-high leggings, and glistening abs. The kind of woman whose body Roman would study in silent appreciation while scrolling late at night when he thought I wasn’t looking.

She wasn’t just his mistress—she was an opportunist. Brooke’s social media following had skyrocketed since her ‘rumored’ relationship with Roman became gossip fodder. Instagram stories showing glimpses of a luxury car, TikTok videos featuring expensive hotel rooms with cryptic captions, and a YouTube vlog about “staying humble” while wearing designer athleisure—her accounts crawling with thirsty followers dissecting every clue and propositioning her all at once.

I knew what this really was to her. Roman wasn’t just a man; he was a brand, a ladder, and she was climbing every rung with her perfectly manicured nails.

I ran into her—literally—three days ago at the grocery store. She stood there in the produce aisle, recording herself examining avocados while my hands shook around the cart. She looked up and smiled at me, her hazel eyes gleaming with recognition.

“Hey,” she said casually, like we were old friends.

I froze, my chest tightening. Her brown skin was luminous, her hair slicked back into a tight, high ponytail that made her cheekbones look like they’d been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. She was wearing a crop top and booty shorts, her stomach flat, the muscles rippling with every slight movement.

“You’re Roman’s wife, right?”

Her tone was light, but there was something underneath it. Amusement. Condescension. She looked at me like she already knew how the story would end.

“And you are?” I managed to get out, though my voice wavered.

“Brooke,” she said, extending a hand that I didn’t take. She noticed. “But I’m guessing you already knew that.”

The smirk on her lips sent a sharp, searing pain through my chest. She was enjoying this. Reveling in it.

“You know,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sincerity, “he talks about you sometimes. Says you’re a great cook. That lasagna you make? Chef’s kiss.” She leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “But maybe leave the lingerie for someone else, yeah? He’s not into the lace.”

My breath hitched, but I refused to let her see me break. Not here. Not in the middle of the damn grocery store. Without a word, I turned my cart around and walked away, the wheels squeaking loudly on the linoleum floor. Her laughter followed me all the way to the parking lot.

-----------------------

Two weeks later

I told myself I wouldn’t go. I had no reason to be at the arena tonight, no reason to throw myself into Roman’s world when he’d made it painfully clear I no longer fit in it.

But something tugged at me—a gnawing, insistent feeling in my gut that I couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was intuition. Maybe it was desperation. Whatever it was, it drove me to get in my Bentley and make the forty-five-minute drive to the arena.

When I arrived, the backstage area was buzzing with the usual chaos. Crew members ran back and forth, wrestlers joked and stretched, and the faint hum of the crowd echoed through the walls. I tried to keep my head down, to avoid the sympathetic looks from the few staff members and wrestlers who likely knew more about my crumbling marriage than I did.

I passed Jimmy and Jey in the hallway. The twins had always been like brothers to me. When Roman and I started dating in college, they welcomed me into the family with open arms. We were inseparable. Until now.

“Hey, uh, what’re you doing here, sis?” Jimmy asked, stepping in front of me with a strained smile.

“Just wanted to see my husband,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Now’s not a great time,” Jey chimed in, shifting uncomfortably. “He’s, uh, real busy tonight. Big match, ya know?”

“I know his schedule better than anyone,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes at them. “So stop lying to me, too. Don't do that. Not you two.”

They exchanged a quick glance, a silent conversation passing between them. It only confirmed what I already suspected—they were hiding something.

“Look, sis,” Jimmy said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe you should just head home, yeah? Roman is—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I interrupted, pushing past them before they could stop me.

Their protests faded behind me as I stormed down the hall toward Roman’s locker room. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of anger, fear, and dread swirling inside me.

When I reached the door, I didn’t hesitate. I pushed it open without knocking, and the sight that greeted me made my stomach drop.

Brooke was there.

She sat perched on the couch, her long legs crossed, wearing a short, flowy minidress that still showed off her assets. Her perfectly styled hair fell over one shoulder, and her glossy lips curled into a smug smile when she saw me.

Roman was leaning against the locker next to her, arms crossed, his face unreadable. If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t show it.

“What the fuck is this?” I demanded, my voice shaking as I stepped into the room.

“Hey, girl,” Brooke said, her tone casual, almost amused. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m not talking to you,” I snapped, not bothering to look at her as my eyes locked on my husband. “What is she doing here?”

Roman sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not what you think.”

“Really? Because it looks exactly like what I think,” I shot back, my voice rising. “I knew you were lying to me, Roman, but to bring her here? To your locker room?”

“Calm down,” he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. “You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” I repeated, incredulous. “I walked in on you and your mistress, and I’m the one overreacting?”

“Okay, first of all, let’s not use words like ‘mistress,’” Brooke interjected, her voice dripping with mock indignation. “That’s such an outdated term.”

My head finally snapped toward her, my eyes blazing. “Okay then, how ‘bout ‘side bitch’?” I snarled, “Shut the fuck up, little girl, and stay in your place!”

“Why? Because you can’t handle the truth?” she retorted, smirking as she leaned back against the couch. “Sweetie, you’ve been in denial for months. Maybe it’s time you faced facts.”

My hands clenched into fists. I was seconds away from exploding. “Get out,” I hissed, pointing to the door. “Get out before I beat your ass so bad you’ll never be able to show your face anywhere ever again!”

Brooke didn’t move. Instead, she looked at Roman, arching an eyebrow. “You gonna let her talk to me like that, babe?”

Babe. The word sent a wave of nausea crashing over me.

Roman straightened, his jaw tightening. “Brooke, maybe you should go.”

Her eyes widened in mock surprise. “Oh, so now I’m the bad guy? Fine.” She stood, grabbing her small Gucci shoulder bag, similar to the one Roman bought me on my last birthday, and sauntered toward the door. When she reached me, she paused, leaning in close enough that I could smell her sickly sweet perfume.

“Good luck, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice full of venom. “You’re gonna need it.”

She left, the sound of her heels clicking against the tile echoing in the silence.

I turned back to Roman, my hands shaking with fury. “How could you do this to me?”

“You don’t understand,” he said, already sounding irritated, like I interrupted something important.

“Then explain it to me!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “Explain how you can throw away ten years for that bitch! Do you even care about me anymore?”

“Of course I care,” he snapped. “But this…you…you’re suffocating me.”

“Suffocating you?” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. “I gave up everything for you, Roman! My dreams to become a chef, my career, my time. And now I’m suffocating you?”

“You don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “Brooke doesn’t—” He stopped himself, but it was too late.

“Brooke doesn’t what?” I demanded, stepping closer. “Doesn’t ask for anything? Doesn’t expect you to act like a husband? Is that it?”

He didn’t answer, but the look on his face told me everything I needed to know. “Babe-”

“Fuck you. You disgust me,” I spat, tears streaming down my face as I turned and stormed out of the room.

-----------------------

I decided to try. One last time.

Roman was returning from Toronto this evening, so I cooked his favorite dinner—ribeye steak, medium, with mashed potatoes and garlic green beans. I even made the dessert he used to tell me he loved so much, a rich chocolate lava cake. I set the table with candles, dimmed the lights, and waited.

When he came home, he looked at the effort I’d put in and raised an eyebrow. His expression was guarded, his shoulders tense. He dropped his bags and stood there for a moment, staring at the table like it was a trap.

“What’s all this?” he asked, his tone flat.

“I wanted to remind you of what we have,” I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Of what we could still be.”

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes lingered on the candles, the food, the delicate care I’d put into every detail. Then he sighed, walked over, and sat down without a word.

I sat across from him, trying to keep the weight of the silence from crushing me. He picked up his fork and knife, cutting into the steak with mechanical precision. He chewed slowly, his gaze fixed on his plate like he couldn’t bear to look at me.

“How is it?” I asked, my voice too bright, too desperate.

“It’s fine,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

“Fine?” I echoed, a brittle laugh escaping me. “I spent hours making your favorite meal, and all you can say is fine?”

He set his fork down, his jaw tightening. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to try, Roman!” I said, my voice cracking. “I want you to fight for us, for our marriage. Do you even care anymore?”

He looked up then, his dark eyes meeting mine. They were filled with something I couldn’t quite place—guilt? Anger? Resignation?

“Don’t do this again,” he said, his voice low.

“Don’t do what again?” I demanded, my hands trembling. “Don’t try to fix the mess you’ve made? Don’t try to save the life we built together while you’re off playing house with her?”

His expression hardened. “Babe, I'm tired. I'm not in the mood for another fight.”

“Another fight?” I repeated, incredulous. “You think this is about fighting? Roman, I walked in on you and Brooke not too long ago! I saw you with the woman you're cheating on me with! And now you expect me to just sit here and pretend everything’s fine?”

“You don’t know the whole story,” he said, his voice rising slightly.

I scoffed, folding my arms tightly across my chest. “Oh, enlighten me, then. What’s the whole story? That you’ve been sneaking around with some IG model while I’ve been sitting at home, waiting for you to remember you’re married?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “It’s not like that,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze. “It wasn’t supposed to…get this far.”

“What does that even mean?” I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief.

Roman hesitated, took a deep breath. “When we started having problems—when you started pushing me about kids, about everything—we stopped talking to each other. You didn’t even see it, but I did. I felt like I was losing myself, like I was just going through the motions to keep you happy. And then…she was just there.”

“‘She was just there?’” I mimicked him sarcastically. “That’s your excuse? She was 'just there' so you decided to wreck our marriage?”

“It wasn’t like I planned this!” he argued, his voice rising. “I didn’t wake up one day and decide to cheat! But Brooke…She wasn’t asking me for anything. She doesn’t have all these expectations. With her, I could just…be me.”

“Be you?” I spat, my voice shaking. “Who the fuck even are you, Roman? Because the man I thought I married would never have done this. He wouldn’t have entertained some clout-chasing, social-media leech who’s only with you because of your name!”

“It’s not just about her!” he yelled, standing up so abruptly his chair scraped against the floor. “It’s about us! About how we’ve been falling apart for years and you won’t admit it!”

Indignant, I stomped towards him. “We’re falling apart cuz of you! Because you’ve been lying, sneaking around, treating me like I’m the problem when it’s her! I’ve given you everything! I’ve stood by you through everything! Your injuries! The fucking leukemia! And this is how you repay me?”

“Man, I didn’t ask you to stand by me!” he lashed out, his voice cold and cutting.

His words hit me like a slap across the face. My chest tightened, my vision blurred, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

The room spun, and before I could think, my hand flew up and cracked across his face.

The sound of the slap echoed in the room, sharp and final. My palm stung, but the pain was drowned out by the adrenaline coursing through me. Roman’s head turned with the force of the blow, and he stood there for a moment, stunned. His jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he slowly straightened to look at me.

“You hit me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“And you deserved it!” My voice trembled. “How dare you? ‘You didn’t ask me?’ You didn’t ask me to give up my career to support yours? To put your dreams above mine? To be your wife? Your partner?”

Roman sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Then how the fuck did you mean it, Roman?” I shouted, tears streaming down my face. “Because all I hear is you telling me that I’ve wasted the last ten years of my life loving someone who doesn’t even care!”

“Do you think this is easy for me?” he yelled back, his voice booming as he took a step closer. “Do you think I like feeling this way? Feeling trapped?!”

“Trapped?” I echoed, my voice breaking as tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was here right now. “You think being loved by me is a prison? You think our marriage is some kind of cage?”

His words cut deep. Too deep. I stared at him, my chest heaving, the weight of his betrayal pressing down on me like a boulder. “You don’t even see what she’s doing to you. You're letting some gold-digging fitness Barbie play your old ass like a fiddle.”

Roman’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching. “You don’t know a damn thing about her.”

“And you do?” I countered. “I know enough to know she’s using you to boost her follower count. I know she entertains those guys in her comments propositioning her in her DMs. She doesn’t give a damn about you, Roman—not the way I do.”

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t what? Don’t tell the truth?” I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “You’re too blind to see it, but she’s using you, baby. And when she’s done, she’ll leave you just like—”

“Shut up!” he yelled, his voice booming in the small room.

The silence that followed was deafening. We stared at each other, both breathing heavily, the weight of our words hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “I can’t do this anymore.”

My heart dropped down to my toes as I realized what was coming next. “Roman, if you walk away, there’s no coming back,” I warned him.

He stopped pacing, turning to look at me. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—regret, maybe? But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t…This is over. I’m done.”

Without another word, he grabbed his keys off the counter and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

I sank to the floor, my chest heaving with sobs as the sound of his car engine roared to life and faded into the distance.

-----------------------

Two months later, another bomb dropped.

Social media was buzzing with the news: 

EXCLUSIVE: Brooke Harper, fitness influencer and rumored girlfriend of married WWE superstar Roman Reigns, is pregnant.

From Side Chick to Superstar: Influencer Brooke Harper Expecting WWE Champ Roman Reigns’ Baby!

Roman Reigns Revealed as Fitness Star Brooke Harper’s Baby Daddy in Shocking Pregnancy Announcement!

I stared at my phone, my hands trembling as I scrolled through the comments. Some fans were congratulating them, while others were outraged on my behalf. But the only thing I could focus on was the image of Brooke, glowing and smug, cradling her small but visible baby bump in a photo she’d posted on Instagram:

It was supposed to be me.

For years, I’d begged Roman to start a family, but he always had an excuse.

“It’s not the right time,” my husband had droned on, “Let me get through this next storyline”. “We’ll talk about it after WrestleMania”.

But he’d found the time for her.

For days, I cried. Screamed. Refused to eat and yelled into the empty rooms of this prison that was meant to be my home. It took me days before I began to accept the truth that my marriage was truly over. I couldn't keep fighting for someone who’d already left me. So, I started checking through divorce lawyers’ websites, needing guidance to commence arguably the most difficult process I’ll probably ever undertake in my life. As devastating as it was, it was time for the charade to end.

But then I came home one day and saw them.

Roman and Brooke. In our bed.

She was curled up against him, her head on his chest as they slept, her hand resting on his heart like it was hers to take. Roman’s hand was on her growing belly, protective and intimate, his fingers splayed like he was claiming the life they’d created together.

My stomach churned as it all hit me. Crashed into me with the force of a freight train.

This bitch hadn’t just stolen my husband. She had stolen my life.

A younger, skinnier version of me. And he let her.

I let her.

Something inside me snapped—like a taut string stretched too far, finally breaking under the weight of years of betrayal, lies, and disappointment. It wasn’t a single moment or thought that did it. It was everything. The nights I cried alone, the constant gaslighting, the humiliation of seeing my husband flaunt another woman while I held onto the tattered remnants of our marriage.

It all collided, an unstoppable force crashing into an immovable wall of my patience, my love, my restraint. In that instant, the part of me that once cared, that once hoped, disintegrated into nothingness. What filled the void was something raw, primal, and entirely unforgiving.

Unforgivable.

Quietly, I backed out of the room and closed the door. I walked through the house, locking every door, sealing every window. I yanked out the hose of the gas stove in the kitchen. My movements were calm, methodical. The storm inside me had settled, replaced by a chilling clarity.

When everything was secure, I grabbed a can of lighter fluid from the garage and walked back to the bedroom. I poured the fluid all over the room, then around the base of the bed and on the sheets, careful not to make a sound, careful not to miss a spot.

As I struck the match, I felt a strange sense of peace.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t hurt.

I was free.

The flames spread quickly, consuming the master bedroom in a matter of minutes. But I didn’t stay to watch. Roman and Brooke woke up, their screams and frantic banging on the door that I locked from the outside muffled by the roar of the fire.

I calmly strolled out of the house, the heat of the flames warming my back, and sat silently on the lawn as sirens sounded in the distance.

By the time the firefighters arrived, the house was an inferno, red and orange flames hungrily devouring everything inside. My husband. His mistress. Their demon spawn. The life we built for ten years, all now reduced to ash and smoke in a mere couple of hours.

I watched as the blaze rose higher, unmoved by the chaos around me. I felt nothing. No grief. No regret.

I didn’t care. Not anymore.

THE END

-----------------------

This is the first fic of this kind I've ever done 😬 How was it?

Please leave comments! I love comments 😁😙😊

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[baocean]

NOT INTERESTED - JJ MAYBANK

Summary: your friends have been trying to set you and JJ up all summer, they just don’t know one tiny detail

Pairing: JJ x pogue!reader

Warnings: none

“Kie, how many times will it take to get it through your head that I’m not interested?” You groaned, turning away from her.

She followed you off the porch of the chateau. “Cmon, just think about it. You and JJ have so much in common. It would be like…like a power couple.”

“No. Not a chance.”

Kiara had been going on about you and JJ all summer, Pope, John B, and Sarah too. Trying to push JJ and you together.

They had fifty bucks that the two of you would start dating by the time school started. Someone was going to be broke.

You joined the boys and Sarah over on the dock, Kie following swiftly behind.

“So?” John B asked Kie once she sat down, out of breath.

“I got nothing, but I’m not giving up.” She said, giving you a smug look. Your friends laughed. JJ and you exchanged an annoyed expression.

“Maybe y’all should just give up. I’m not even sure y/n here likes boys.” JJ spoke, slinging his arm up and over the wood.

Your mouth fell open and you flipped him off, rolling your eyes as he laughed.

He was right though, while the other pogues were flirting with anyone and everyone, you were off with, well, JJ.

“I like boys. Just not you, JJ.”

“Oh, that explains all the guys you get.”

“Not like you’re getting any action either, pretty boy.” You gave him a wicked smile, letting him know that two could most definitely play at that game.

“Oh, I am certainly getting action.” His head tipped to the side. You grimaced.

“Gross, dude.” Pope groaned, shaking his head.

It was quiet for a minute, just you and JJ looking at each other, with your friends surrounding.

“Would you look at the time? We’ve got to go!” Sarah looked at her phone, pulling John B up with her, Kie and Pope following suite.

You rolled your eyes again, peaking over at JJ. He wasn’t even trying to hide the smirk that was painted across his face.

As your friends giggled and ran off the dock, JJ chuckled. He scooted closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Now that we’re alone,” He trailed off, leaning in.

“JJ, our friends are right there.” You turned and pointed towards one of the big trees in John B’s backyard.

Sure enough, four pairs of eyes were staring back at us, disappearing once you two looked their way.

“But babe, I haven’t kissed you all day.” JJ whined. He threw his head on your shoulder in protest.

“You’re the one that came up with that stupid plan.” You told him.

JJ and you had already been dating since last summer, but it wasn’t something we planned on telling your friends anytime soon.

For half of your relationship, you two were pretty much terrified of telling your friends that you were dating, afraid of what it would do to the group. So you and JJ kept it a secret.

When you realized our friends were trying to set you up with your boyfriend at the end of the school year, your relationship turned into a game of how long could you go until your friends found out. JJ had come up with the plan.

“Baby, just one kiss. One peck, that’s it.” He tried again, leaning up to look you.

He peaked down at your lips as he smiled, knowing you were gonna give in soon enough.

You guys had pretty much lasted all summer without your friends catching on. You sort of wanted to fool them until the first day of school.

“No, J. You decided until the end of summer and then we’d tell them. Who am I to go against your plan?” You gave him a sweet, sick smile.

You suggested you tell your friends the second you found out they weren’t going to be mad. JJ had other plans.

“I’m overruling this plan. Let’s make out right now.” He pulled you into his lap in a swift second and placed his hands loosely on your legs.

“JJ-,” You laughed as he cut you off with a kiss.

JJ’s kisses were like your drug, because you couldn’t remember how long you were kissing his lips and neck before your friends ran back down the dock.

Kie got there first, screaming as the two of you pulled apart.

“I just won fifty bucks!” She yelled, throwing her hands in the air. Pope and John B shook their heads, watching Kie dance. Sarah was leaning against John B, giving you a smug look.

“I dunno, babe. Should we just pretend this is our first kiss?” JJ grinned at you as you slid off his lap. He stood up with you, standing behind you and linking his arms around your shoulders.

Kie’s smile dropped, along with her hands. “What the fuck did you just say?”

The rest of your friends looked just as confused as Kie did.

“No, nothing.” JJ played it off, placing his head on yours.

“We’ve been dating since last year.” You spoke over your boyfriend, slightly annoyed by his game playing.

It looked like Pope’s eyes were going to fall out of his head. John B and Sarah shared a confused expression.

“Huh?” Was all Kie could muster. You looked at your bestfriends, certain that your boyfriend behind you was sharing the same look you were.

“So does that mean we win the fifty bucks? It would be great for the date we have planned tomorrow night.” JJ joked.

…..

[concretecultist]

Muscle Memory

summary: “Falling out of love is the saddest thing two people can do to one another. It just means that they have grown too comfortable enough to not make an effort to try,”

pairing: introvert!reader x noah sebastian

warnings: angst, lots of crying, heartbreak

word count: ~5k

lightly inspired by ‘The Greatest’ by Billie Eilish

THIS IS ALL PURE FICTION!

A/N: i don’t know if i want to make this into a part two or leave it open ended! let me know what you think and please be sure to comment and reblog if you enjoyed 🥰

~Berry🫐

——

Things just aren’t what they used to be.

Falling in love was scary enough but knowing the one you love is falling out of love with you is even scarier.

It started with the missed date nights.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I got stuck at the studio with Jolly,”

Then it was the barely there kisses. Each night before bed, you’d give each other three kisses, one for each word in the phrase ‘I love you’

But now you’re lucky if you even get one.

The sex that was once passionate isn’t even there. He’d come home from tour and there was no sexual tension, you’d tease him and he’d brush you off.

You’d cook dinner for the two of you but he’d come home with take out and the guys following in tow without letting you know beforehand, luckily, Folio and Jolly had an appetite so your food never went to waste.

But tonight, tonight was the final straw.

“I love you,” you said to him as you set his plate in front of him. It took him a few seconds, as if he was finding the courage to say the words that at one point, slipped out to easily.

“Love you too,”

And that’s when you knew. You knew that once the ‘I’ was no longer there, it was done. After four years, the love that burned bright, completely untamable, has been reduced to embers and there was no saving it. There was no lighter fluid, no extra wood and no match to bring that fire back to life.

It was gone.

“It’s all just muscle memory at this point… isn’t it?,”

Noah finished chewing before frowning at you.

“What?,”

You could tell he knew what you were referring to but he loved to play clueless. Now is not the time for that though.

“Just… saying ‘love you’? You fell out of love a long time ago but stayed to soften the blow,” you whisper as you pick at your food.

Noah ran a hand over his face and sighed, “Y/N, no. That’s not-,”

“You can be honest with me. I’ll be a little hurt but I already know,” you smile sadly as you glance at him, “I already know,”

“I tried to make it work,” he says lowly, saying the words as if his teeth are barbed wire, as if it’s hurting him to say this, “I still am,”

“When was the last time you touched me?,” you couldn’t even look at him when you asked that question, “All the times I waited for you to want me naked and you just… looked at me as if there was nothing enticing about me,”

“That’s not how it was, at all and you know that, with tour and everything my mind has been all over the place,”

“You still could’ve given me some form of passion, Noah! Not just sex! Flowers, a fucking chocolate bar because it’s my favorite and you passed by it in the store. Something, something to make me believe you actually cared!,”

“I do!,”

“I can’t tell!,” you had to keep yourself from raising your voice, “I just wanted what I gave you. I waited and I waited and I waited. I thought that maybe it was the burnout, that you being home and resting would fix it but it’s been like this for MONTHS and I’m tired of feeling you pulling away so please, just rip off the fucking bandaid already,”

“Y/N please don’t do this. Not now. I said I was trying,” even now, his voice is void of any emotion. How do you claim to try but it can’t even be heard. Why doesn’t he care enough to fight for you harder right now.

Right now he’s throwing weak punches as his defense, he’s barely trying. It’s over.

“I know I probably won’t ever be the one for you,” you tightened your lips, trying to keep yourself from spilling the words but you need to say it, “But you were it for me and I don’t think I’ll ever fall in love again,”

The words rush out like projectile vomit, you couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want to make it seem like you were begging but you figured if this is it, then to get it all out, right?

“Life will never be the same. I won’t be able to listen to certain songs, eat certain foods, watch shows, visit certain cities because they’ll all remind me of you and it’s going to kill me,” you twirl your fork in the mess of noodles on your plate, finding it more intriguing than this conversation, “I was so… desperate to make it better. To be better so that you would still love me but nothing was ever good enough. You may have thought that you were good at hiding it but… I could feel you slipping away from me and it’s crushing me,”

“Baby, please don’t do this,”

“Don’t call me that”

He had some nerve. For months it’s been ‘Y/N this, Y/N that’ but now he wants to pull the “Baby” card? He’s just driving the sword deeper into your chest and he can’t feel remorse. He can’t shed a tear because he’s the cause of all the blood. You sit before him, chest open as you give him your last breath. You deserved to say your piece before he does his finishing move.

“I’m sorry,” he swallowed thickly, following suit in picking at the food on his plate. He never wanted it to come to this. He always thought you were the one but with the rising fame, he was finding it hard to juggle. He started paying more attention to the band than feeding the energy into your relationship. He stopped trying and that’s what started all of this.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. These things happen,” you sniffle and wipe your cheeks, forking some of your dinner in your mouth to hopefully subdue the churning you feel in your gut, but all it did was make you want to regurgitate it all, “I can be out by the end of the week,”

“You don’t have to do that,” he scoffed as if what you were saying was absurd. Did he really expect you to stick around?

“You don’t understand,” you tilt your head, finally looking at him. Eyes skimming over every feature of his, that way you’d never forget it, “You could offer me this place and I still wouldn’t take it. There’s too many memories. It would just eat at me,”

Maybe you’d live out in the woods. Away from society. You didn’t like the outside world much anyway. And with you losing Noah, there was no point. Solitude was your safety blanket, always forced to find solace in your own company, it’s been a long time since it’s come to that, but, right now you just wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you happy,”

“Y/N, please,” Noah sighs, “It’s not like that at all,”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you love me,” your throat clenches around the words, “Look me in my eyes and tell me that I still make you as happy as the day you met me! That I’m not utterly alone in this world. That it doesn’t feel like an elephant is on your shoulders when you come home all because you don’t have the balls to tell me there’s nothing here anymore,”

“Oh c’mon!! You’re blowing this out of proportion! This can work just give me time,”

“Say it, Noah” fists banging on the table causing the silverware to clank loudly against the glass plates, “Do you or do you not love me? It’s simple!,”

You watched the way his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened.

He couldn’t even say it.

“You don’t love me anymore and you can’t even be a man and say it?!,”

“What good is it gonna do, Y/N?!,” he shouted over you. Frustration filling his eyes as he sends you a look of annoyance.

There it goes.

The confirmation without it being explicit.

This wasn’t your Noah anymore.

“I hate to see the fact that you’re hurting right now, why would I make it worse?! You think I want to be having this conversation? You think I want to see you shattering all while trying to keep it together? I never wanted to hurt you,”

“I just need to hear you say it so I can go about my life,” you whimper, you know it’s going to hurt like hell, but you need to hear it, “I need to hear it so I can cut the cord, Noah,”

The silence from him is heavy. This is the least he could do. If he couldn’t love you the way you needed then so be it, but he could at least do this last thing for you.

“If you ever cared about me then you owe me this much. If this is it then you need to fucking say it so that I can start healing! This is on you! Fucking say i-,”

“I love you but not like I used to,” he cuts you off, words rushing out as if they burned his tongue to speak, wearing a look of shame in his face, shaking his head and for a second.. he kind of looks heartbroken.

“I thought I could get around it, thought that if I just gave myself time that I could regenerate the love I felt, but I don’t know how. I started to feel less guilt when I missed date nights, I stayed late at the studio so that I wouldn’t have to see the sad, longing look in your eyes. I’m not who I was when I got into this. I don’t know who I am and I need time to figure it out,”

The air is stripped from your lungs and while you were begging him to say it, it didn’t burn any less. It felt like you were on display for him, bare and vulnerable and he just kept taking a hot fire poker, marking you, tainting you for anyone else.

“Th-thank you,” you nod, eyes filling with tears, his face becoming distorted, “Thank you, Noah, for your candor,”

“Y/N,”

“Can we just eat in peace?,” you cleared your throat, smiling so sadly, you’ve never been so dejected. You were embarrassed by the tears on your face as you sipped your water.

“I just want to end this night on a good note. So let’s just eat quietly. I’ll do the dishes and go to bed,”

All he could do was nod. Your requests for him were always simple and even with your heart breaking because of him, you wanted one last meal with him, one last peaceful souvenir.

Your dinner was finished in silence and you followed through with what you said. You did the dishes, you cleaned up, but, before you went to bed, you roamed the house for a bit, wanting to take it all in before this place became only a memory.

The living room, where you two had your first kiss. The lamp with the broken lampshade that you two never replaced because it added “character”, you two broke it while watching Michael Jackson’s Thriller music video, trying to learn the dance.

The coffee table that you two fought over the instructions about (you were the one reading them correctly), there’s pictures of you two on the walls but you had to do yourself and him a favor by just taking them down and trashing them.

Which leads you to the kitchen… where he taught you his secret method to dicing potatoes. The place where you two held a cooking contest, with your friends as the audience after watching a few episodes of ‘Beat Bobby Flay’, this was the place where you two sat and got two spoons to eat out of a singular tub of ice cream when you guys couldn’t sleep.

Then the dining room��� my God. All the holidays in there, familial dishes displayed on the table as you two hosted parties with your friends. All the laughs, all the card games and fights over if you could put a draw 2 over a draw 4 in UNO (Nicholas says you can’t but… you say otherwise)

Then the bathrooms… you helped him paint them all, running around the house screaming after you flicked paint, getting it in his hair and he sprinted after you trying to get you back. All the decorative seasonal hand towels you gawked over in Home Goods that he only got because you laid it on thick with how “cuuuuuute they would compliment the seasonal shower curtain” that you also talked him into getting.

The porch, where you two would wake up before sunrise, he makes your tea, you make his coffee and swap cups when you two went to sit on the porch swing and just listen to the birds as they wake up. The porch that you two were so excited to decorate for Halloween and Christmas each year.

Then the backyard. Memories flash before your eyes of slip and slide you guys pulled out every summer. The barbecues you had every chance you got. Noah feeling like the cool dad on the grill and you were the sweet mom everyone loved and thanked while passing around your famous freshly squeezed lemonade with Davis always asking what your secret is and your reply always being ‘if I tell ya, I might have to kill ya’ but… now that things were ending… you suppose you could tell him that the secret is agave nectar, a pinch of salt and some sparkling water.

Then you have the basement where you’d have to pull him off the game when it got late but he talked you into playing a round, even though you weren’t the best.

Or the attic, where you guys stored things for the future… a future together that was no longer in the cards for you.

And finally the bedroom.

The first place he told you he loved you. The intimacy that happened here. The funny recollection of Noah bumping his head on the headboard in the middle of having sex and both of you had to take a break because you were laughing too hard. The movie marathons that happened in here. The competitions you two held at who could solve the murder mysteries first (he says you’re tied, but you know you’re winning by at least 3), all the late night talks, the cuddles, the stolen kisses, the tickles.

How?… how do you move on from that? How do you go about your life as if you didn’t devote yourself to this singular person for years? How do you go back to a life without him? And your friends are mutual friends so you know you’ll have to give them up.

Why does it have to be such a lonely road.

This is why falling in love is scary… you don’t get how people start over. It felt like your world was ending, things weren’t always like this. He’d surprised you with your favorite flowers, take you on trips, do karaoke. There was a time where he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Always walked down the baby aisles to look at the clothes, always texted and called when he was away. He brought you out of your shell but now, now you must retreat back in.

What could you have done? You weren’t going to beg him to love you but what was his final straw? As much as you hate this, you can’t hate him, you can’t blame him for falling out of love it happens to people all the time.

But yeah, the woods sound nice. You’ve always told yourself if love never worked out, it would be a secluded life. A garden to tend to, hunting, you wouldn’t have to bump into very many reminders as the reminders in your mind were enough. So, through the tears and aching chest, you get to packing and searching.

You weren’t sure if you were ever going to be okay. But outside of loving him, being alone was muscle memory…

You’ll make do.

———

*A Year Later*

A life in the woods wasn’t so bad. Your fruits, vegetables, and herbs were flourishing, your gourds were thriving. You had some chickens for eggs and for things you didn’t have, you always traveled on foot to the farmers market on the outskirts.

Life out here was simple but it was far from easy just yet.

Your last night at the house, Noah tried to talk it out once more but you’d told him the damage is done.

“Just give me time to get back to who I was,” he’d said.

But you didn’t have time. You didn’t need him to be who he once was because you know there are different versions someone grows to be, meaning you have to learn to love every new edition of them. You put in the effort to love every version of him but unfortunately, his idea of love just didn’t evolve with him, leaving you high and dry.

There were nights where you still called for him in the midst of your cries but then there were days where it was easier to swallow. You’d genuinely secluded yourself. No social media. You had cut off any communication with everyone, they didn’t deserve the cold shoulder and ghosting but they have to understand… you had no place in their circle anymore and it wouldn’t feel right.

If you stayed in contact with them you wouldn’t have healed, not even the slightest bit. You’d always want to ask about him, you would always hope that they would tell you that he misses you. You couldn’t do that to yourself.

There’s times where you still want to call him, see what he’s up to, but instead of sending messages or making the mistake of calling him. You write letters that will never be sent. Telling him of all that you’ve endured over the past year.

So you write and write and write as a form of closure to move on with your life.

It was a light morning. You woke up before sunrise as you always do, cup of earl grey in your hands as you sit in your rocking chair, taking in the view of the squirrels running, the birds chirping and the beetles flying by.

Things still weren’t easy but you were keeping your head above water.

A sweet noise pulls you from your thoughts and you set your mug down on the side table, it was practically empty at this point but you’d make a mental note to get it later.

You make your way through the quiet, cool cabin, hearing the noise louder. Your gown brushing against your calves with each step.

As you make your way into your room, a part of you still longs to see pictures of you and him hanging on the walls as if you were back at the house. Micro-dosing delusion here and there wasn’t too big of a deal. You were still healing after all.

Your body carries you closer to your bed and the white cradle that was attached.

Peaking your head over to see a pair of little hazel eyes looking up at you in adoration.

“Hi, baby girl,” you coo softly, lifting her up and hearing her little grunts as she stretches, “Always an early bird just like your mama, huh?,”

You bounce her in your arms as you make your way to the kitchen to pull a brick of breast milk out of the freezer.

“I had my tea and you’ll have your morning beverage shortly,”

You don’t know why you talked to her as if she could understand you, but you enjoyed it. She was calm when you talked, so you figured she liked it.

You take your time to wrap her up into your chest so you could have her close with free arms as you craft her bottle.

“This would be a lot easier if I had help huh?,” you tighten the straps so she’s snug and secure while you’re both also comfortable, “But, It’s just you and me, Sunshine,”

Noelle was short of three months old so all she really did was shine her eyes at you and smile.

“But we’re gonna be okay!,” you cheer, testing her milk on your wrist, deeming it just the right temperature before taking her to the couch to feed her.

She had Noah’s nose, his eye shape, she even had his Cupid’s bow above her top lip, she had your cheeks, your hair and your frown of concentration. She was perfect and even if you were alone you were going to be the best damn parent you could be.

A part of you knows you should have told him when you found out but… you figured he’d be too busy to take care of a baby. He still had so much time on the road, he wouldn’t give that up.

So… it was just you and Noelle, you two against the world.

She babbles as you adjust your wrap to angle her properly to feed her.

“You are my sunshine,” you sing, smiling so proudly to yourself. You’d never expected to find yourself in this position but she was your reason to keep going. To not give up.

“And no one will take my sunshine away,”

After feeding her and cleaning up the cabin, you decided to head to the farmer’s market for some fresh meat and honey.

Noelle was in her stroller enjoying the smooth ride on the path. It was only a 10 minute walk and it was a great time to look at the pretty leaves and listen to what the wind has to say as it whisks past you.

When you hear all the laughing and chatter is when you know you’re close to the market. You’re a regular so although you’ve come to enjoy the lack of human interaction, you love seeing the smile on the faces of the vendors you shop with.

When you’re off the path, you see how packed it is and get overwhelmed.

“We got this, Sunshine,” you sigh to her, smiling and booping her nose, “Your mama did this to herself really, made herself damn near agoraphobic- oh shoot, shouldn’t cuss in front of you. Don’t store that in your subconscious anywhere!,”

All she could do was smile at you, not understanding a single word you said.

“Meat, oat milk, and fresh honey. That’s it! Should be easy right?,”

You stroll to the milk truck and wave at the elderly woman in the window,

“Hey there, Y/N!,”

“Hi, Ms. Ernie!,” smiling brightly. Ms. Ernie was a sweetheart and always special made oat milk for you. She doesn’t sell it much but she makes sure to keep it on hand just for you.

“How are you and your little Plum?,��� she’s always called Noelle that, when you found out you were pregnant with her she was about the size of a plum, and when you met Ms. Ernie she could tell you had a lot on your mind, so, she sat and talked with you and gave you your first gallon of milk on the house, it was a nice glass bottle with her logo on it that you now use as a vase for flowers.

“Can’t complain! She’s growing up so fast!,”

“It’s my milks doing!,” she pointed and winked, “It’s making mama strong which is making her strong,”

“You got me there. I gotta admit it,” you joked with her. It was always like this. She was like a grandma to you and the conversations were always wholesome.

After purchasing your milk she throws in a small container.

“I’m making yogurt now! It’s got that oat milk ya like so let me know what ya think! And don’t be a stranger, come into town and have some dinner sometime,”

You verbalized how grateful you were for her kindness and took her up on her offer. It did get a little overwhelming trying to cook dinner and take care of an infant all on your own while also tending to a garden and a chicken coop.

You bid your goodbyes and make your way to the local honey tent.

“Hey, Y/N!,” a young man waved

“Hi, Reid!,”

“And hello little miss sunshine!,” he peaked his head around the stroller, as soon as your daughter sees him she squeals and kicks her feet, she loves Reid. He tickles her and chuckles before standing up and waving his hand to his table.

“What are we having today? We’ve got some new flavors; Orange Blossom, Blueberry Blossom, Lavender- we even got them in sticks so you can try before you buy,” he trails off.

“Can I get my normal wildflower aaaand I’ll try the orange blossom,” you point the sample sized container.

Reid bags everything up nicely for you and you watch him throw a few of the new flavor sticks in the bag before you pay.

“Enjoy, Y/N!,”

Once you give your goodbyes to Reid, you’re on your way to the next truck. Phyllis and her husband, Dan, greet you just as they always do and you order your meats and cuts the way you like them and are all set to head back home. You’re almost to the path when you realize there’s one more thing you needed.

“Shoot, Sunshine. I need bread!,” You turn yourself around to see where the bread truck is and bump into an unsuspecting soul. Neither of you paying attention.

“Oh goodness! I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, helping him pick up his bag of goods.

“Y/N?,”

You stop what you’re doing. You recognize that voice anywhere. After years of being near it and talking with him, it was unmistakable. You slowly raise your head to make eye contact with him.

“M-Matt?,” you hand him his fallen apple and step in front of your stroller, obscuring his view of Noelle.

“What are you- where have you been? We’ve been worried sick,”

“I can’t talk to you,” You reply with a shaky tone, “I can’t handle it right now. Just act like you never saw me,”

He frowns at your words, disheartened at how you could seem so scared of him. Not physically but mentally, emotionally even. You were doing so well and now… here is a physical reminder of your past life.

Birthing Noelle was different because while she did have features of her father, she was a reminder of the future and what is to come but seeing Matt right now pushed you all the way back to where you were emotionally a year ago.

He notices the stroller behind you but before he can get a word out, you’re cutting him off.

“No,” you grit through your teeth, “No! Don’t even,” you point at him

“Does he know?,”

“I don’t owe any of you anything,”

“She looks just like him, Y/N”

“Stop it!,” you hold your hand up to quiet him, “I have been through hell and back trying to heal. I don’t need this right now. Go about your day, you didn’t see me, you didn’t see anything!,”

“He deserves to know,”

“I can’t let him back in my life. If he finds out, he will be around and I won’t get better! He’ll take her away from me,”

“It’s not about you or him. If he has a baby, he deserves to know and she deserves a dad. He wouldn’t take her from you, he wouldn’t do that,”

“I can’t take that chance, Matt. He broke up with me, he fell out of love because tour and the fame was too much. How do you expect him to juggle being a father when he couldn’t even juggle being a boyfriend! If you tell him and he comes after me, I will NEVER forgive you!,”

“What’s going on?,” you turn to your left and see Reid coming to stand between you and Matt, “Is he bothering you?,”

“We’re friends,” Matt defends himself. This is getting a lot bigger than what you needed right now.

“Yeah? Well it doesn’t seem that way. So if you could, please leave. She looks uncomfortable,”

“Y/N, please,” he begged. He hadn’t seen nor heard from you in over a year, all of you were a family and it’s been hard to process for all of them how you were there one day then gone without a trace.

“You should go, Matt,” you hide behind Reid and wait until he leaves. He stood there waiting to see if you’d change your mind but when you didn’t, he got the hint and went on his way.

“I’ll wait till he’s gone then I’ll have Morgan watch the tent, I’ll walk you home,”

“Thank you,” your voice was barely above a whisper, you wipe your tears and you turn around to crouch down in front of Noelle, making sure she’s okay, she’s half asleep, usually you’re back at the cabin by now to put her down for a nap but this little scuffle pushed it back.

“Is there anything you need before we leave? I saw you turn back around like you forgot something,”

“I… I needed bread,”

“What kind?,”

“Pumpernickel and sourdough,”

“I’ll be right back,”

“Reid, you don’t have to,”

“I got it,” he rests a hand on your shoulders to calm you down. A lot happen just now, it made sense why your nerves would be all over the place

You decided not to protest as he was already on his way over to the bread truck. You look back to Noelle and see she’s finally out like a light just that quick.

Matt’s words began echoing in your mind as you stare at her. Why couldn’t today have just been like any other day? What are the fucking odds that he ends up at this market in particular? You know he loves them but there’s one closer to the city that’s his favorite. Why’d he have to come out to the countryside?

Was this a coincidence or was it somehow planned? You know for sure he’s going to tell Noah, that’s his best friend and you don’t know how to handle any of it. They don’t know where you live but now you’re worried they’ll come out here looking for you, which means you’ll have to ask Reid to do a weekly pick up and drop off. You know he won’t mind but you hate asking for help.

He deserves to know

It’s like tinnitus now. Just an irritating ringing in your ears that won’t go away.

But as you stare at your daughter, you realize she was an embodiment of the bright rays that peaked through the cloud that rained over your head for months. She was your sunshine.

And no one would take your sunshine away.

——————

——————

Let me know if you want a part two or if I should leave it open ended like this? 👀

Be sure to comment and reblog! Much love!

tags: @lma1986

[mythicalmyles]

Hiya myth! Is it okay for me to request?

Because if it is, then can I request for a reader who is just a big ball of sunshine and a virgin?

You can put any creepy pastas and kinks c: That's all! Thank you :D

-🍀

Naga!Toby x Sunshine!Curious!Reader

(18+, Ovi, Overstimulation, Double pen, Dubcon, rimming, sex venom, breeding)

You stumbled over a branch, letting out a gasp as one sliced across your cheek. You let out a whine as you rubbed your cheek, fingertips coming back red. You pouted and slumped your shoulders, rolling your eyes as you shuffled back to your feet. Your lip twisted as you rooted through your bag, pulling out some antiseptic spray.

You tended your wound as best as you could, hissing as the liquid burned your wound. Luckily you didn't think it was that deep. Part of you was ready to give up, it had already been hours since you had set out on your exploration. But curiosity kept your feet moving, determined to see if the reports were real. Part of you knew it was stupid, for god's sake it was a report from almost 100 years ago.

But when you found it, you knew you had to find out. It was locked up in an old government building for a reason.

And that was that, you booked the flight and bought a boat. It had taken almost a year for you to get to the island, completely isolated and abandoned. It was thick with foliage, leaves almost triple your size. You pulled out a bottle of water, quickly downing the sweet liquid but careful to ration it. It didn't rain often but it was enough to not have to worry too much. The island was also ripe with fruits, it wasn't the best but it could keep you going as far as you needed.

You took in the sight for a moment as you mindlessly slipped your water bottle back into your bag, vibrant greens purples and reds filled your vision. It was breath taking, almost hard to believe somewhere existed on earth that was so beautiful.

You froze for a moment, focusing hard as you tried to listen closer to the sound. You let out a small breath as a smile spread wide across your features, quickly pulling the report out of your bag. It had been burnt but there was at least something to go on.

'Water ran red with blood

Everyone d'

There was water, and you could hear the sound of a very distant waterfall. It sounded really far away but hope overrode your brain and you hastily made your way towards it, batting leaves out of your way.

The sound got louder as you got closer, cementing that you were going in the right direction. You must've been speed walking for an hour before you finally had to stop, chest heaving as you practically dropped against a tree. Your mouth felt as dry as a bone in the desert, you practically ripped your bag open to get your water. Care going out the window as you chugged down the sweet liquid, you drank the entire bottle thanking the stars you at least had two more.

You popped the now empty bottle back into your bag, letting yourself breath as you stared up at the trees. You pulled out the report again, going to the page about its appearance.

'It had a long dark green patterned, scaled tail, it must have went on for at least four foot. It had long black spikes down its back and a ferocious human face permanently set in a scowl. It bleeds black as the night sky as it hisses and spits venom at those who dare get too close. It has already taken out five men

Gus torn in half beast gripped his ne

wont last much lo'

You read as best as you could around the burned edges, feeling bad for the poor creature. It probably just wanted to be alone, instead it was ganged up on and attacked. You knew there was a danger to what you were doing, it wouldn't trust humans. You knew that much. But you hoped coming alone and unarmed might make it see you wouldn't hurt it, you just needed to know more.

If what they had written was true and there really was a Naga out there, you had fixated on the being since you had first read about. Utterly hypnotised and hungry to learn more. A half snake half man, you almost shook in excitement. Surely if it wasn't entirely human then it wouldn't have a human life cycle? It was what you prayed for anyway.

Once you had finally relaxed into the tree you rose yourself back up, shaking out tense thighs and cracking your neck. "Let's go." You whispered to yourself, beginning your journey again.

Just as you felt you were going to drop dead, you finally saw it through the trees. A large pound and the waterfall that sounded like heavens trumpets. With a newfound energy you surged forward, ignoring the leaves and branches that scratched at your skin.

At this point all you could think about was the sweet water, all thoughts flung out of your mind as you raced towards the pond. You dropped to your knees as you cupped your palms and gulped up the water. It could be infected with something but at this point you didn't care, all that mattered was the cold liquid sliding down your throat as you guzzled it down.

You stretched forward, sliding your body into the water and letting out a groan of appreciation as the cool water sloshed against your skin. The heat on the island had gotten unbearable at this point and you finally relaxed as you felt the hot sticky sweat coating your body washed away.

You pushed your self up, shaking the water out of your hair as you finally took a look around. Eyes quickly drawn to the large green striped lump, eyes doubling as you scrambled up and ran over to it. You saw it laying passed out on the ground, you couldn't deny the fact your breath got sucked out of your lungs.

He was gorgeous, thick brown hair framing his pale face. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his chest was defined, his biceps thick. You had no doubt it could kill you in a heart beat, the thought alone excited you in a twisted way. You brushed the thoughts away, bending down and searching him for any obvious wounds. You found what looked like a tip of a spear stuck into his tail, mind thinking back to the report. From the angle it was, he wouldn't have been able to properly grip and pry it out himself.

You frowned, you didn't know it's anatomy. Just what humans guessed was it's anatomy. For all you knew you could tear a vein pulling it out, yet the thick yellow and black crust that had built up around it had your chances limited. It was clearly infected, it had to be removed.

You squatted down, hands grasping the spear tip as you pulled with all your might. His skin was thick and clung to it, but you finally got it, throwing it as far away as you could. Blood quickly ran from the wound and without a second thought you pulled your shirt off and used it to try and clot the wound. A sudden hiss and you dipped down just in time to miss venom that had been shot at you.

"I want to help!" You yelled out, keeping pressure on the wound. "Please don't move." He stilled, looking at you with an untrusting glare. Yet he made no move as you kept pushing down on his wound, his black blood soaking through your shirt and coating your hands.

"Why?" He hissed, baring his fangs at you in warning. "You didn't deserve what happened. I just. Want to know more about you." You hoped he was see the sincerity on your face, instead he spat again. At least he didn't aim for you. You tumbled back onto your ass as it rose up, towering over you and making you feel tiny.

You anxiously gazed up at him, fear sparking through your body. "Ssso you can tell other humanss where I am?" His voice bellowed and you swore it shook the entire forest. You threw your hands up, shaking them and your head. "No! I swear! I wont ever tell anyone." You gasped out as you slid back, his eyes glowing as his slit pupils constricted. His eyes searched your body. "You wont. You can't leave now." Your face dropped when he suddenly ripped you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"You would look ssssoo pretty full of my eggss." Your eyes bulged out as you choked. "Wh-what?" You shrieked out, panic swimming through your veins and stabbing you straight into the heart. "Theress no otherss like me. You will do." He chuckled as a long tongue suddenly ran up your neck, you let out a deep breath as you froze.

His abnormally long tongue ran over your neck, leaving saliva in its trail as it explored you. Whimpers left you when his tongue finally found your nipple, massaging the bud and smirking as you twitched in his grasp. He had no idea humans were so sensitive. He pulled you off of him, dropping you to the floor before quickly turning you around and shoving you face first into the ground.

You whined as he yanked off your shorts, clawed hands grasping your ass and spreading it apart. You dug your nails into the ground, yelping when you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your ass. "Wha-wha." You choked out, getting cut off when he dove his tongue into you. "A-Ah!" You whined out, back arching as his tongue dug deep inside of you rubbing the most sensitive parts of you.

You shook in his hold as he ate you out, his cheeks pressing against you as drool dripped down your ballsack. You sobbed as you rocked back, lost in the feeling of his tongue twisting inside of you. Your voice only got higher, his fingers leaving bruises on your ass as he gripped you tight, trying to keep you in place.

"Puh-please." You begged, entire body shaking. He slipped a finger into you, slurping obscenely around the digit. You came hard, you hadn't ever felt anything like this. You hadn't been touched by anyone before, and here a supposed mythical creature was tongue deep inside of you and you felt like you were floating away.

Despite already cuming you whined when he pulled his fingers and tongue out, a chuckle coming from him as he picked you up and wrapped your legs around his hips. He pulled you close, mouthing your neck before biting down onto your flesh. You let out a groan at the pain, face scrunching up as your body began loosing up.

"What. Are you doing?" You questioned, voice lethargic. "You could never take me with out thiss." Instead of questioning him you rested your chin on top of his shoulder, almost passing out in his arms.

The feeling of something slimy rubbing against your hole had you moaning and pulling back, lidded eyes gazing at the naga. His hand wrapped around your neck, keeping your face in his view as he began sinking you down onto his cock. You whined desperately the further he pushed in, lungs sinking as you were stretched beyond your limit. Desperate begging falling from your lips as he bottomed out inside of you.

You looked down to see your stomach bulge with his cock, lips dropping and moaning at the sight of it. "You will do very good indeed." Toby thanked the god's for this, finally he had been provided a suitable mate to store his eggs inside of.

He easily bounced you on his cock, drinking in every moan that left your lips. Smirk coating his face as he watched his little mate writhe with pleasure all because of him. You were reduced to a moaning whining mess, crying in his arms as pleasure tore your very being apart.

You mindlessly rode him, head flung back as his hand around your neck kept you tethered to reality. You could barley take a breath, his cock hitting deep inside of you. You yelped when he slid two fingers into you, gasping at the burning stretch. "N-no. Too much." You rasped out. He chcukled. "it'ss okay. You can take it. I need to fertilisse my eggss." He grinned before he dove into your neck, sucking into your flesh.

"Aa-." You groaned out, voice wreaked. Once toby had worked four more fingers into you he pulled them out, laughing at the way you whined. "Don't worry. You'll be full sssooon." He drawled out, teeth gleaming in the now moonlight. You hadn't even noticed it hadn't gotten dark.

The feeling of another cock penetrating you threw all thoughts out of the window, breath and body freezing as you gaped at Toby. Choking as he slid his other appendage deep into you. He let out a loud groan. "F-fuck. Ssso goo-good." He groaned out, his self control leaving him as he began ramming into you. He punched the breath back into you and if you could be embarrassed you would, your voice was incredibly pitched and whiney.

You freely cried, moaning as you sobbed. Completely overwhelmed was how you felt as the Naga impaled you on not one but two cocks. You thrashed in his arms as your body shook, cum shooting out of your cock and coating both of your chests. Toby felt victorious, his mate clearly enjoyed their breeding. It made him ecstatic.

It wasn't long before you felt something push into you, before you knew it a few more somethings were shooting into you. You whined in confusion and slight fear, the idea of the naga actually inserting egg's in to you shaking you to your core. "You ca-can take it." You just whined pitifully, fully spent as your body spasmed around his cock.

You watched as your own stomach expanded, jaw dropping. You couldn't tell if you were horrified or excited. Before you could stop yourself you pressed your lips to his, whining into his mouth as his cum flooded inside of you. It felt almost unbearable.

He gently fucked you through it, stopping once he had finally given you all he could. "Ssso pretty. My pretty mate." He grinned while petting your hair, keeping his cocks buried deep inside of you so he didn't spill any of his precious eggs.

[presidentstalkeyes]

Pines Family Headcanons (Take 2)

I know I already did something like this, but that was a while ago and my headcanons have evolved since then, and my fixation brain is in Pines mode again so here we go! (Mostly focused on the Mystery Twins but with some attention to the older generations scattered about)

Past:

The first member of the Pines family to arrive in America in the 1800s was Gabriel Penzak, a Sephardic Jew from somewhere in the Balkans. His last name was changed to Pines at Ellis Island, and his family later assimilated into the majority-Ashkenazi Jewish community in New Jersey. He was the father of Elmer Pines and grandfather of Filbrick.

Filbrick was the youngest of four brothers (the others were Philip, Fillmore and Fulton). He was the 'weakest' of the four, compensating with his intellect and business sense. He was also born with highly sensitive eyesight - flashes of light would blind him for hours - requiring dark glasses later in life.

His eyesight also meant he was passed over for the draft in WWII. Since all three of his brothers died in the war, this possibly saved his life. As a young man, he operated and maintained film projectors at a traveling carnival, under a boss who taught him many tricks (and bore a resentment towards 'freak show' acts, viewing them as talentless). It was here he met - and accidentally impregnated - his future wife Caryn.

Caryn Romanoff's parents were Pavel, a grizzled sailor, and Tanya, a fortune-teller - both Ukrainian Jews who fled to America to escape persecution from Stalin's Soviet Union. She also had two siblings - older brother Dimitri, a troublemaker and later hatchet-man for the Mafia (never a made man due to his non-Italian ancestry, but close enough for his family to disown him) and little sister Shprintze, who was married three times and had five children in total, all of them named after Roman emperors (except for her only daughter Cleopatra).

Filbrick and Caryn's first son was Shermie, born in 1947. Their second sons, Stanford and Stanley, came 8 years later in 1954. Shermie was a star athlete in high school and always kinda distant from his little brothers, in addition to being Filbrick's obvious favourite. Also a notorious flirt and brought many girls back to the pawn shop (and distracting Stanford from his homework with the resulting noises), and tattled on Stanley for bringing a possum into the store, forcing him to let Shanklin go. Was later drafted into the Vietnam War in the 60s, missing out on Stan's eviction from the house. When he returned from the war, the first thing he did after finding out he was a brother short was to track down Ford and deck him in the face.

While in Hawaii on R&R, Shermie started a relationship with a local waitress called Wikiola Kale. After getting pregnant with his daughter, Wikiola got a plane ticket all the way to NJ to ask Shermie's parents to look after the child, being too poor to raise a child herself. Filbrick almost slammed the door in her face until Caryn intervened. The baby - Louise - was the one in Caryn's arms the night Stan was kicked out.

Louise Pines first grew up in Glass Shard, then moved to L.A. after her dad married a rich businesswoman called Fiona Safesmith (the relationship with Wikiola having not worked out). Fiona was a less-than-ideal stepmom, trying to force her daughter to go into acting and disparaging her interest in DD&D and mystery novels. She also cheated on her husband after an old war injury acted up and he lost the use of his legs, and later went to prison for tax fraud.

Louise would later get a degree in criminology and met a computer geek, amateur ufologist and 'radical cool dude' called Emile Sauvageon (who ran away from a strict, isolated religious family). They started a relationship and had twins in 1999: Mason and Mabel.

Present:

Dipper and Mabel's full names are Mason Emile Pines and Mabel Louise Pines, respectively.

Lou and Em only moved to Piedmont on Shermie's recommendation (and with his money). They would regularly clash with their neighbours for their 'weird' habits (and refusing to maintain their lawn). They considered themselves the arch-enemies of the local HWA.

Em worked at a fancy silicon valley tech start-up, while Lou was a private investigator (the boring realistic kind that mostly deals with insurance fraud and the occasional adulterer).

When he was little, Emile used to wow his son with stories about he was secretly an awesome space pirate with a cosmic ancestry, evidenced by Dipper's birthmark. And Dipper believed him. Really believed him. When his dad finally told him the truth, he did not take it well. Dipper also butted heads with his mom a lot over the existence of the supernatural - she would encourage him to examine things rather than blindly accept them, but he'd often think she was just doubting him for no reason. In short, he had some trust issues with his parents.

Dipper did have some friends in elementary school, but most of them moved away, and in middle school he alienated his fellow nerds after he was kicked out of the tabletop gaming club for being too rules lawyer-y. The resulting slump also lead to him falling behind on band practice.

Mabel is asexual and aromantic, but didn't realize it until much later. Finding she was drifting apart from her friends, she wrongfully attributed it to not having a crush (in truth they simply started to see her as immature and embarassing to be around - you know how kids can get :V). Not wanting to be 'left behind', she dedicated the summer in Gravity Falls to getting a romance as 'proof' that she was a totally grown-up big gal now (while her only reference material were 80s animated comedies and age-inappropriate romance novels).

Mabel very nearly didn't get to go to Gravity Falls at all - she was in danger of being forced to go to summer school due to poor grades (unlike her brother - and like her Grunkle Stan - she experienced great difficulty with any subject involving figures and rote memorization, especially math, the sciences, and computer studies). Only a week of late-night cram sessions spared her from this fate.

Contributing to the above, she also suffered from a form of anterograde amnesia - she would easily forget things that happened just the day before - sometimes even less - until presented with a reminder, usually in the form of an object or person, often her brother. She originally started scrapbooking to help her remember things. This wasn't diagnosed until a year after that summer.

Dipper was in the Boy Scouts in 2011. He hated the experience, camping out in the woods with no games or books, not relating to the other boys and resenting being ordered around by his hardass ex-army Scoutmaster. But he did get a merit badge in astro-navigation, so that's something.

Mabel had a brief stint in the Girl Scouts as well. She quit after an attempt to sell cookies somehow ended with her troop being chased out of a neighbourhood by a knife-wielding maniac in a bathrobe. To this day she's only told Dipper the full story.

One time, Dipper watched Small Soldiers and subsequently destroyed all his action figures checking them for military control chips. He was also banned from Chuck E. Cheese after his 7th birthday when he checked the animatronics for anything suspicious and made Pasquale's head fall off in front of everyone (on the same trip, Mabel tried to get the animatronic band freed from their exploitative contract so they could pursue their true musical potential).

One of Mabel's favourite movies is Rocky IV. For a long time she genuinely believed that's how the Cold War ended and was very disappointed to learn that wasn't the case.

Mabel had a bug-catching phase when she was 10, spurred on by all the creepy-crawlies that would nest in their unmaintained lawn. She'd catch bugs in jars and invite them to have tea and review movies with her. This came to an end after one of the jars smashed and released fireflies all over the house. She was finding descendants of Francisco the Firefly living in the basement as late as 2014.

Lou and Em were not getting divorced - they merely had a fight about paying off their mortgage after Em lost his job, and Dipper simply overreacted and assumed the worst. They sent the kids away that summer while they got their affairs in order. In the end, they had to sell the house and move into a cheaper apartment in Oakland.

Future:

When they first returned from Gravity Falls, the twins' grades took a nosedive as they had difficulty re-adjusting to mundane life, experiencing frequent traumatic episodes and refusing to follow instructions. Their parents had to be called in multiple times after both twins got into a fight in the hallway because another kid made up some dumb rumour that they'd joined a cult or had been abused by their 'creepy uncle', or were just faking their episodes for attention. They were only spared mandatory counseling thanks to emergency 'how to pretend to be normal' coaching from the Grunks.

Dipper has to start wearing glasses a few months after leaving Gravity Falls. Mabel of course made fun of this, thinking that only the male Pineses turn short-sighted (and forgetting about her mom). She had to start wearing glasses at 16, to which Dipper only replied by smugly grinning at her.

In high school, Mabel started a knitting club, which ended up being the most popular club in school - mostly because she insisted that it was a safe space for anyone, and anyone who tried anything funny would have their lives made hell. In her clubroom, nerds, preps, goths and jocks sat side-by-side in peace.

Mabel also took up sports, especially wrestling, becoming captain of the girls' wrestling team by Junior year. She took up a high-protein diet to build her strength - this combined with a childhood spent binging candy finally catching up to her lead to her putting on a lot of weight. By adulthood she's developed what she calls a 'sumo bod' - chubby, but strong (and great for hugs).

Meanwhile, Dipper took up track and gymnastics while regularly going to the gym - to the shock of everyone, as getting pre-Gravity Falls Dipper to exercise was like pulling teeth. If he was gonna have to brave another apocalypse, he didn't want to be saddled with noodle arms. By his 20s, the combination of his 'baby face' with his square jaw and muscular body has attracted a good amount of attention from girls (and boys) - attention he is alternately mildly perturbed by or totally oblivious to.

Dipper also devoted extra effort to his art skills, hoping to achieve the same level as Ford. Sometimes he'd climb up onto rooftops to get a good view of the landscape to draw, and then add a completely gratuitous monster because why not?

Despite his best efforts, Dipper was never able to overcome Mabel's height advantage. In fact, in their teen years she gained a few extra inches on him.

Dipper still regularly wears hats even as an adult - though he's no longer self-conscious about his birthmark, he's been wearing hats for so long it feels weird not to. It's like his 'thing' - Mabel has her sweaters, he has his hats.

Past his school years, Dipper mostly goes by Mason, especially with strangers - 'Dipper' is reserved for friends and family.

Dipper got a doctorate in forensic science at college, and also interned at a coroner's office. He also did some work as a runner on a film set, but the experience at the Used To Be About History Channel soured him on show business. Instead, after getting his doctorate he decided to take up Ford's offer to apprentice under him from years before, hoping to become a paranormal investigator in his own right (incidentally, Candy Chiu took the same offer, and now they work together).

Mabel went to college too, but didn't particularly want to, only going because she felt pressured. She ended up dropping out after the first year and still feels aimless, not knowing what to do with her life. She currently still lives with her parents and has a decently fulfilling job at an independent haberdashery (sweaters will always be there for her), but she's not sure that's what she wants to do.

Both twins are adored by Soos and Melody's 6-year-old kids (also twins) - they're considered honourary Uncle DipDip and Aunt MayMay.

When he turned 16, Soos gave Dipper his old truck - as much as he liked it, he can't exactly stick his kids in the cargo bay. Mabel meanwhile drives the Mabel-Mobile, an old Soviet military van painted pink with a huge shooting star mural, plus a liberal amount of graffitti and bumper stickers. Where she got it remains a mystery - not even she seems to remember.

Mabel has a serious weakness for booze. She experimented a lot with various substances during her brief time at college, but cocktails really stuck. When she's drunk, she tends to shift between giddy and sentimental, grumpy and ranty, and depressed and regretful. You know she's had too much when she starts singing about 'Lady Apocalypse'.

Dipper never got as into that stuff himself, but he was introduced to weed by Wendy, relying on it to calm his anxieties during exam season. He's currently trying to wean himself off it by means of alternate herbal cigarettes.

Waddles had to be sent back to Gravity Falls after a few years, since he rapidly grew too big to keep at Piedmont. He currently lives in a lean-to next to the Shack that Soos built. He still regularly sees Gompers, to Mabel's delight.

Wendy also got both twins into tattoos, convincing Mabel to get a huge shooting star on her upper right arm. For her 18th birthday she also got a special pair of tats on the forearms - a pair of arrows with the right marked 'Fasten In Case Of Hug!'. Dipper was reluctant at first, but caved when Mabel designed him a 'pine tree heart' emblem, which he wears on his right shoulder.

Both twins are in a special 'Never Mind All That' group chat, along with almost everyone else in the Zodiac, plus Candy and Grenda (but not Gideon). Mabel had the idea for a 'hotline' of sorts that they could message whenever the old post-apocalypse trauma started acting up - knowing from experience how important is to have people to remind you they're there.

Every year on the anniversary of the end of Weirdmageddon, both twins visit Bill's petrified body, and scribble tally marks on his face - one for each year, alternating between Dipper's blue marker and Mabel's pink one (this is something I've already mentioned elsewhere but I felt like it deserved to be at the end. :P)

[greynatomy]

soulmates

lia wälti x reader

i just started writing and came up with this. idk how i feel about it, but it was an idea.

also… writing endings are very difficult.

———

A couple years back, in a small town in Switzerland, two best friends decided to have a stroll around their town. They come across a very familiar park that they’ve been going to as kids.

Not far from the girls, are two boys, playing a game of football. Too occupied in their game, they didn’t see the two girls, who also weren’t paying attention to their surroundings, and ran into them, literally.

The boys quickly get off the ground, dusting themselves off and offering a hand to each lady.

“We are sorry about that.” One of the boys said.

“We weren’t paying attention.” The other saying.

“Oh, it’s alright.”

“We weren’t paying attention ourselves.”

This was the start of four friends’ unbreakable bond.

Over the years, the four grew up together. If you see one of them, the other three aren’t too far behind. Each girl eventually fell in love with one of the boys, same with the boys.

They finished school, got married, moved into houses right next to each other and to no one’s surprise, the girls fell pregnant at the same time.

Two girls.

Born within a month of each other.

Two girls who would grow up being best friends. You both would become inseparable. Always attached to the hip.

You started preschool together, eventually going off to kindergarten together.

One day, when you were both ten years old, under the old maple tree in her backyard, two other friends of yours are standing close together, both her hands holding onto yours.

Your parents watch through the kitchen window, wondering what you kids were up to now. To their surprise, they watch as Lia pulled you close, like how she sees her parents do, and gave you a little kiss on the lips, pulling away, wide smiles on both your faces, your two friends clapping and cheering.

Only when the two of you ran inside the house did they understand what happened.

“We got married!” You yelled, while Lia said, “She’s my wife!” Referring to you.

The four friends looked at one another in understanding.

They created soulmates.

From then on, Lia would always refer to you as her wife. “Hi, wife.” She would often say whenever she sees you, a love struck expression on her face. You would always respond with a kiss on her cheek, caressing the other with your hand.

You both were quite young, but old enough to know what love was, as both your parents were the examples you had to know about what love was.

Unfortunately, on one summer day, your parents had informed you of your move. Having to move away to another country. Away from Lia.

Your twelve year old self immediately ran towards her house, never needing to knock, straight towards her room, where you found her on her bed. She already knew it was you without having to look up, but once she did, she saw tears staining your cheeks.

“What’s wrong?”

“Papa said that we’re moving away. I don’t want to move away.”

All Lia could do is hug you tight and not let go.

When the time came, everyone promised that they would communicate and not lose contact of each other. It could be the first time in years that the best friends would no longer be together.

Lia gives you one last kiss and you hope it wouldn’t be the last.

You ended up in the United States, telling Lia through letters which you send through the post, Lia doing the same. But as the years go on, the letters eventually stopped when you were fourteen. You cried for a week straight, mourning what could be the ending of a beautiful friendship.

———

You were now thirty years old, who’ve accomplished so much and made a name for yourself. You became a professor at Stanford, teaching about the wonders of science, becoming quite popular to students.

Lia of course became a force in the world of football. You were never one for sports m, but you aren’t ashamed to admit that you’ve kept up with her career, cheering her on through the television.

It’s been sixteen years since your last contact with her, you don’t know whether she still remembers you or not, but she was someone you couldn’t exactly forget.

You did hear that the Arsenal women’s team would be playing a match in Los Angeles, so you asked for a few days off and made your journey all the way down.

You were lucky enough to get tickets close to the field. Watching Lia play in person for the first time was quite the experience. You cheered for her as loud as you could, cringing whenever she was tackled down.

Arsenal ended up wining 1-0 with an assist from Wälti. The team made their rounds around the stadium, thanking as much of their supporters as they can. You stayed in your seat, eyes following her as fans started filtering out, you being one of the last ones still there.

“Hello, Miss.” You’re snapped out of your thoughts by security.

“Yes?”

“I was informed that I needed to escort you down to the locker room.” You didn’t really know what was happening, but you did follow him. “Just go right in there.” He points to a door.

You walk through the door to be met with the whole team of Arsenal, who quieted down once they saw you. You stand awkwardly in front of everyone as they stare at you.

“Hi, um, did you get lost?” Someone asked.

“Uh, I don’t think so? I followed some security person.”

“Hi, wife.”

You snap your head to the left so fast it could’ve given you whiplash. You turn you whole body to face her, her standing so close to you. Slowly, you lift your right hand to her cheek, caressing it with your thumb as she nuzzles into it, your lips finding its place on the other, the familiar gesture makes the midfielder starts to tear up.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

“How could I forget our wedding under the maple tree?”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

“You know,” Lia began. “I’ve been waiting for the day I see you again.”

“How come?”

“Because I wanna make it real?”

“Make what real?”

“You being my wife.”

You and Lia were in your own bubble, completely forgetting about the rest of the team that surrounds you, who has never seen the love struck look on Lia’s face until now.

“What’s going on?” Caitlin asks, confused as the rest of the team is.

“This is my wife, and we’re gonna make sure it is not fake this time.”

At this moment, you felt like you were back in Switzerland, under the maple tree in her backyard, Lia by your side.

Two souls who lost their way, back together again.

[caitwritesao3]

Based off this art, story inspired with the help of @krizariel 🖤 happy early Christmas

Jason grimaced at the tiny slip of paper sitting on his counter. ‘Timothy Drake’ Raising the beer bottle to his lips he took a long sip. He already disliked Christmas, even more so now that he had been expected to attend the festivities at the manor. Alfred once again this year pulled out the tattered blue stocking with their names stuffed inside. Secret Santa.

Last year Jason had pulled Bruce’s name, the year before that Alfred’s but this year… this year he pulled the pretenders name. Jason had audibly hissed and crumbled it up in his fist, downing the rest of his whiskey before heading home. Now three hours and several beers later Jason couldn’t look away from the name scrawled in neat cursive.

What the fuck was he supposed to get Tim! That little prick already had everything in the world. He ran a multi billion dollar company, had taken Jason’s place as Robin, had pretty boy looks…

Jason shook his head downing the last of the sour drink, the bottle clinking on the counter. No, no he wasn’t going down that road again. Tim wasn’t pretty, at least not to Jason. Nope, sure his dark hair framed his slightly round face perfectly, those bright baby blues that seemed to stare into Jason’s soul, not to mention his smooth pale skin that looked so soft.

“Fuck!” Jason swore digging the palms of his hands into his eye sockets.

Roy popped up from the couch where he had been asleep. “What! Who, ow!” he cried out falling onto the floor, his elbow smacking the coffee table. The red head grumbled rubbing the bone as he padded into the kitchen. “You still on about this? Surprised it hasn’t burst into flames yet with you staring so hard.”

Jason glared at his friend snatching the paper up and pocketing it. “This is fucking stupid. I don’t even like him, what do I get him for Christmas.”

Roy gave Jason a knowing look which was met with a middle finger. Jason deposited all his empty bottles into the recycling, swaying on his feet. His vision going slightly blurry, all the alcohol finally hitting him. “Ya know…ya know it’s fucking stupid. Like, I’m already gift enough ya know!”

“No…” Roy deadpanned, crossing his arms.

“I came back from the dead! Like fucking Jesus!” Jason shouted, pointing at Roy. “Why aren’t I being celebrated and having gifts brought to me!”

Roy slapped Jason’s hand away, “Firstly, wrong holiday you’re confused with Easter. Second, how drunk are you?”

Jason did laps around the couch, running his hands through his already mess of curls. Still running his mouth about how the family should be worshipping him, how stupid Christmas was and how fucking stupidly pretty Tim is.

Roy let Jason rant his eye drifting over to the corner of their apartment. Rolls of wrapping paper leaned against the wall, rolls of ribbon tossed across the floor. “You’re absolutely right Jaybird!” Jason blinked at Roy, mouth still open from where he stopped his ranting. “You are a gift and I think Timmy should see that!”

Jason cocked his head like a little lost puppy, still swaying back and forth. “Wha? Yeah… yeah!”

Roy grinned evilly as he plucked the roll of thick red ribbon off the floor. “Get naked, I’ll get your phone!”

—

Tim sighed, head hitting the back of his office chair. His eyes were starting to cross from staring at the same reports for the last four hours. The meeting had run over and he missed Alfred’s annual secret santa pick. Last year Bruce had drawn his name and handed Tim a blank check right then and there. That check which still sat in the desk drawer to his right. Bruce always did like to cheap out.

A ping from his phone caught his attention, Jason’s name flashing. Groaning Tim waited, this late Jason never contacted Tim unless he was being annoying or bleeding out. A minute later it pinged again, bleeding out it was. Time to go. Tim gathered his things, picking his phone up before leaving the office.

The reminder vibration caught Tim’s attention, he pulled the phone from his pocket swiping up on the screen. “What the fuck!” He exclaimed, his face burning. Next thing Tim saw was the floor after he had walked directly into the closed elevator doors. Scrambling for the phone, not that anyone else was here this late, Tim took a deep breath glancing down at it.

The first text said ‘Merry Christmas! I’m your gift’ with a winking emoji.

The next was a picture of Jason, naked. Well not fully… wrapped around his body haphazardly was red ribbon. It crossed down his chest, twisted around his waist before layers of it were wrapped around his thigh and his… Tim’s mouth went dry as he zoomed in on Jason’s crotch. Was he half hard or was it just that, no. No bad Tim!

Tim slapped his face once, twice, three times. Before he could stop himself he texted back. ‘Have you been compromised?’

The response was instant. ‘Compromised by those abs of yours Timbit.’ Tim choked on his spit, throwing the phone into the passenger seat.

[system-to-the-madness]

Two Strays - Nakahara Chūya x Reader

Pairing: Nakahara Chūya x fem!Reader Genre: meet-cute Word Count: 942 Warnings: none Summary: Chūya makes an unexpected encounter over some poster Prompts:  lost pet meet-cute A/N: I’m not saying I’m participating in Inktober or Flufftober or whatever else. But I’m trying to get back into a writing routine, so I thought this would be a good start. No promises on how many days I’ll actually write.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of his black dress pants, Chūya strode down the streets of Yokohama. The air was still warm even though it was already October, but the dark clouds overhead weighted down on his mood. He should be in his office, he thought, doing paperwork, but his head seemed to be filled with the same kind of dark and heavy clouds as those that hung over the city.

His eyes, absentmindedly wandering over the shopping windows, stopped at a poster. It wasn’t the first one he saw like this today, but he had not paid it closer attention yet. Anyone who saw him walk past these printed out posters, no bigger than the size of a normal notebook would have assumed he just didn’t care, but the truth was that Chūya ’s heart hurt at what he knew the poster would contain.

From a single look at it, it was obvious, that someone had put them up, looking for their lost pet, the picture of an animal he didn’t want to take a closer look at gave it away.

Chūya sighed and quickly turned away. Sure, he was a mafia executive, and barely human at that, but he still could understand the pain of someone who had lost their pet that was like a member of their family. Stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to ward off the depressing atmosphere of the day, he kept moving, and promptly bumped into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the young woman quickly apologized, seeming to shrink under Chūya ’s glare. “Uhm, you haven’t seen my dog by any chance?”

And before Chūya had had the chance to avert his eyes, she had lifted a poster between them, the same kind of poster he had so desperately been avoiding looking at.

It showed a colour picture of a small dog underneath big fat letters that read ‘LOST’. Under the picture, there was a short description of the dog, name, colour, age, and so on, as well as contact information.

“He ran away from the dog walker last night, in Yamashita Park,” you continued explaining, and Chūya quickly averted his eyes from your pained, yet hopeful ones, opting to study the poster instead.

Yamashita Park, hm? That wasn’t too far from where they were at now. And there were a lot of restaurants around, so it wasn’t the strangest idea to come looking for your dog here.

“Haven’t seen it,” Chūya mumbled out, trying to move past you. He knew it was rather rude, but he had the distinct feeling he would get roped into something he had no interest in getting roped into if he continued this conversation.

His attempt to escape the conversation got foiled by you though, as you stepped into his way.

“Please,” you begged him, drawing his eyes to your face again. “His name is Kotaro, he’s five years old, I got him from a shelter, he’s lived on the street for the first four years of his life. He’s been through enough bad things in his life.”

“So have I,” Chūya growled, but his mood seemed to have no impact on your determination to get him to listen.

“Then you know how bad it is, don’t you? He’s just an animal, he doesn’t understand why humans are cruel to him. Please, if you see him…”

You grabbed one of the posters you had been holding and offered it to Chūya.

“Why should I,” he mumbled, both annoyed and impressed by your persistence. It wasn’t every day that someone had the courage to get in his way so shamelessly. But then again you had no idea who he was, how dangerous he was. And your dedication to your pet made his resistance falter. He did want to help, but how could he?

“Because you’re a decent guy,” you offered, “and because you know how hard life is when you don’t know where you belong.”

Chūya stared at you. The confidence with which you had said the last sentence had thrown him off more than he liked, this much he had to admit. There was a shimmer in your eyes that made an impression on him, and he had a feeling he would regret it, if he wouldn’t at least pretend to show some sort of interest in your search.

He sighed. “I really don’t have the time-”

“Just take the flyer,” you demanded, shoving the sheet of paper against his chest. “And call me if you see him.”

And with that you turned away, already calling out to the next pedestrian, some American looking tourists. The poster you had shoved against his chest begun sailing to the ground, and Chūya was barely quick enough to pull one of his hands out of his pockets to catch it. Your dog did look like he had been through some stuff, but also as if he had found a home with you. The random thought, whether you had enough space for another stray appeared in Chūya’s head, and he quickly shook it, trying to get rid of the idea.

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his phone and dialled the number of one of his subordinates. “I want everyone to look for a lost dog, about knee hight, black, called Kotaro.”

And when five hours later said dog was curled up in an armchair in Chūya’s office, and you invited Chūya out for dinner over the phone, as a thank you, he wondered whether maybe, if he played his cards right, it would only be the first of many dinners he could spend with you.

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Five

Words: 6k

Preparations for Jackson's first ever prom are well underway, and even Ellie is helping out. As Jackson's only teacher it is, of course, your job to run the show and you'd be more than capable if one parent didn't keep distracting you.

Chapter warnings: Illusions to smut, slow burn, angsty memories of being a teenager, 'She' finally arrives. Minors DNI.

A/N: Ok, second act kicks off after this chapter. You'll get a glimpse of what that means now. Hope you enjoy!

Four | Series Masterlist | Six

Your dreams were changing. Used to waking with a chill, the echoes of loss and the face of your sister blurred in the grey clouds streaking across your dreamscape, you’d started to wake now with a warmth, a vein of light. You felt it on your skin like the first spring day out of a long, cold winter. You’d wake trying to grip its tail as it slipped from you.

The prom thing was your idea, and you only half regretted it. You’d had the idea when Isaiah had asked you what school for you was like, so fascinated by the before times, the kids trying hard to imagine classroom upon classroom filled with students all of the same age. You’d tried to explain that school wasn’t anything, really, that sometimes you didn’t even go because it was so boring, and they gawped at you, disbelieving. You felt a little sliver of shame at having wasted it, reminded yourself that was what you were supposed to do at age 14.

You’d mentioned prom, and there had been a ripple of interest throughout the room.

‘So, there was dancing? But it wasn’t the whole town, it was just you and your friends?’

‘Well, there were teachers and parents as chaperones, but…yeah, there were so many of us that it was just each grade. We got all dressed up, we had our picture taken, we had to choose dates.’

‘You went with a boy?’ Celina piped up from the front row, her nine-year-old face scandalised by the idea that you would willingly expose yourself to boy germs.

‘Yeah, well, some girls had boyfriends in their grade.’

‘Did you have a boyfriend?’ someone asked, the judgement almost silent, and you knew without looking that it was Ellie.

‘No, I didn’t. I had a crush on a boy, but it didn’t really…’

You remembered him, even now, an actual apocalypse not enough to erase the shame. You’d let your friends talk you into a promposal, standing in the bleachers as he ran track with an enormous sign that you’d spent far too many hours painting at your bestie’s kitchen table. It had heart-shaped glitter. You were especially proud of that detail.

You hadn’t realised that the entire track team would also see it, that you would need to specifically point him out in the crowd. Never had you imagined that he would dodge away from your finger, pretending to hide behind another boy, dodging your desire for him while his teammates laughed. It was enough to shrivel your heart into coal. You’re not sure you ever recovered.

You said none of that in your Jackson classroom. Instead, you focused on the decorations, that there was always a theme, that you heard the high school two towns over got Nelly Furtado to play live at theirs, but you weren’t convinced that was any more than an urban legend. They had no idea who Nelly Furtado was. You didn’t try to explain.

‘So can we have one?’ Mika asked, finally looking up from his comic book. You hadn’t thought he was paying attention.

‘A prom? Well, I’d have to talk to the town council.’

‘Tommy’s my uncle, I got an in,’ Ellie said, her face lighting up with the power of being connected, such nepotism so rare as the last vestiges of civilisation withered.

The kids grinned up at you, and you realised that maybe this was something they needed. Jackson already did Christmas, blew eggs, painted them with bees wax and dye from mashed beets and honey, and held a hunt on the first weekend of what the town council’s best guess was April. You could get the kids to decorate with paper flowers. It would be really cute to watch them decorate the mess hall, and there was probably some kind of educational value in it, too.

--

From his post, Joel watched Guillaume and Jonah, his new patrol partner, disappear into the treeline. He watched them, a little nugget of shame festering in the depths of his belly, but mostly – if he allowed himself to admit it – he was happy to have been moved to shifts on the wall. It meant he wasn’t back so late for Ellie, that he could be home to help with her homework or make her help him make dinner, and he didn’t feel so paranoid all the time when he could see the horizon. He didn’t mind the early starts, preferred the quiet up there, liked being able to turn and survey the town as much as the wilds outside it.

If he turned and leaned over a little, up on one foot on the top rung of the ladder, and leaned a little to the right he could make out the path heading up to the schoolhouse. When Billy asked him what he was doing, he explained he wanted to make sure his girl got to school OK. He generally, for the most part, broadly speaking, was referring to Ellie.

Tommy had been nice to enough not to give him shit for it, even after a bloody-nosed Guillaume took it upon himself to point out that Joel was a liability out there. Tommy had appeared on his doorstep the next morning, his brows crowding together, but Joel had spent most of the early morning on the wall, had imagined you lying in bed as he made sure to keep the nastiness away from you, and he was more ready than his little brother expected to hang up his boots.

‘M’getting older, Tommy, we talked about that,’ Joel reminded him, and Tommy nodded.

‘Still the best shot we got, and the best survivalist.’

‘Don’t mean I can’t advise if anyone asks it of me,’ he said. ‘S’not even that hard, just gotta keep your wits about ya.’ He thought for a long moment. ‘Maybe it’s gettin’ harder, now I think about it,’ he conceded.

‘Well, so long as you’re agreeable,’ Tommy said, shuffling awkwardly.

‘What would’ya have done if I wasn’t?’ Joel asked, a crooked grin forming on his face.

‘Would have taken you off patrol, but mighta felt a little bad about it,’ Tommy answered, earnest. Joel scoffed.

‘You’d pull rank, Town Councilman?’

‘Yes’sir, I would,’ Tommy said, no less earnest. Joel nodded at him.

‘Good,’ he affirmed, and saw the way Tommy expanded under the praise of his big brother. ‘You do what’s right for Jackson, always,’ Joel said, and Tommy agreed.

It was cold up there, though, the windchill on his face and his fingertips causing his whole body to tremor in his coat. It was Spring, but it was turning out to be a cold one, not a lot of warmth getting around the mountain. Joel shuffled his feet, trying to get the feeling back in his toes a little. He hadn’t brought his big coat, thinking the sun would be enough to keep him warm, but now that it was nearing the end of the day, the sun disappearing below the mountain ridge, he was counting every minute until he could clamber down and warm up.

He knew you’d be at his place already, working with Ellie at his kitchen table now that the heat had gone out of the day. He was going to try and make his beef stew tonight, had practically begged the kitchen staff to let him have a side of the meat. He hadn’t resorted to violence, but he would have.

He just wanted to thank you for everything you were doing for his daughter. Wanted to nourish your body the way you were nourishing her mind.

Billy called up to him from the bottom of the ladder. ‘Come on down, Joel, night shift’s here.’ Casting one last glance at the treeline, he vaulted down the ladder to rungs at a time.

--

You’d held a democratic process to determine the theme for the prom, but Ellie had dominated it anyway, either unfamiliar with, or just straight up unwilling to, compromise. As the day grew closer you gave up any pretence of tutoring her, working instead on cutting out yellow paper stars at Joel’s kitchen table.

‘Why does the moon change?’ Ellie asked, one day, and you’d paused for a second. You weren’t sure how bad FEDRA school was by the time she was in it, but that seemed fundamental.

‘Well, I mean, you know we’re a planet, right? That we’re like, a big round ball? Floating in the sky?’ Ellie levelled an impatient gaze at you, and you swallowed.

‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’ she asked, and you thought very hard and very fast.

‘I think you’re brilliant and FEDRA school is terrible,’ you said, diplomatically. She softened, her cheeks pinking up a little.

‘Can’t argue with you there,’ she said, quietly.

‘I mean, how much did they teach you about planets?’

‘Sweet fuck all,’ she said, plainly, and you wanted to tell her not to swear but she was in her own house, and it felt like the horse had bolted long ago in any case. ‘But I read about it as much as I can.’

‘The moon?’

‘All space… being that high up where nothing can, no-one up there who can…it’s just so cool. Were you alive when they landed on it?’

‘Ellie, that was the 60s,’ you complained, waiting for her to do the mental maths and wondering how old she thought you were, or if all adults were just ‘old’ to her, a kind of non-descript age in which you are both responsible for everything and also mere moments from shuffling off into death.

She stared at you blankly. ‘I wasn’t born for another like, twenty years,’ you said.

She nodded. ‘Oh.’

‘A lot of people didn’t even believe we really did land on the moon,’ you said. You picked up another piece of paper, your pile of stars nearly double the size of Ellie’s. She wasn’t being careful, her general distractedness was making her slow.

‘What? But wasn’t it on TV?’

‘Yes, it was, but they said it was faked.’ Her eyes blew wide at this, and you realised she was considering it. ‘Ellie, there’s no way it was faked. There are footprints up there that’ll be there forever.’

‘Guess we’ll never know, now,’ she said, quietly, and you suddenly wondered whether the space theme was such a good idea, after all, whether you were tormenting the kids with something they would never see, never have even the smallest chance to explore.’

‘Ellie…’ you said, but she wasn’t looking at you anymore, concentrating hard on her paper star.

‘It’s ok, it’ll be fun to pretend for the night,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot of pretending, won’t be too hard.’

You wanted to ask her what she meant, who she thought was pretending, but you heard heavy footsteps on the front porch and knew Joel was home. You felt your cheeks flush, your hands picking up a little tremble that make it hard to grip your scissors.

‘Hello, ladies,’ Joel said, and when you looked up, he was grinning at you both from the doorway, his hands criss-crossed over his chest as he leant on the frame. It was a domestic enough moment that you had to fight the impulse to go over to him and welcome him properly, into your arms. Ellie barely acknowledged him, because she was 14.

‘What are we making?’ he asked, picking up one of Ellie’s ‘stars’ and genuinely requiring clarification. You winced a little at it. Perhaps it could go towards the back.

‘Prom decorations,’ Ellie said, and she still seemed a little down. You watched her, carefully, trying to determine if she’d already lit her fuse.  

‘Oh, I won’t interrupt,’ Joel said, raising his hands, feeling something in the air. ‘You stayin’ to eat, Teach?’ he asked, and he hoped his voice didn’t make him sound too eager, didn’t give him away.

‘I don’t want to be a bother,’ you said, just like you always did.

‘Oh my God!’ Ellie sighed, throwing her star down in front of her and pushing her chair back. ‘Just say yes, you always end up staying anyway.’

‘Ellie!’ Joel barked at her, and she huffed, her shoulders so high they nearly touched her ears.

‘It’s true, you guys do all this polite bullshit and for what? Just say what you want and then you can get it. It’s not so hard.’

You looked over at Joel, who was staring at his likely hormonal teenager with a perplexed look on his face. You took a second to gather yourself.

‘I would love to stay for dinner, Joel, but one of these days I want you to let me cook for you both.’

Joel paused, considering this. Eyes still on Ellie, who was still quietly fuming, he nodded his head, once. ‘I would like that, Teach,’ he said, his careful tone that of every bewildered teenage-girl-Dad the world over. ‘Ellie, I want you to go wash up before dinner, then I want you to peel the carrots.’

She stood up, stomping to the washroom. You concentrated hard on the paper in your hands, hoping it was enough to stifle your smile.

‘I want to know what the fuck that was about,’ Joel said to you, but smiling.

‘I want to remind you there’s nothing worse than being a teenage girl,’ you replied.

--

You stood, wobbling on the end of a step ladder, hanging up the stars. Tommy found some string lights and put them up around the mess hall, and Johnny and his assembly of post-apocalyptic musicians set up in the corner. You and Tommy had already pushed all the tables back against the wall to make a dance floor. As you worked, he regaled you with his favourite memories of his own prom, most of which seemed to involve trying to get up the skirt of someone called Tammy Schmidt. She’d never let him anywhere near her, and you told Tommy to his face she was right to do it.

‘You would have been Tommy and Tammy,’ you said, and he started to giggle. Actually giggle.

‘That was the appeal!’ he said, sheepish. ‘I figured it sounded like those made-up celebrity names.’

‘Brangelina,’ you said, and he grinned.

‘Tomammy,’ he replied, and you rolled your eyes.

After everything was set up you went home to get dressed, pulling out a little black number foraged from the bottom of Maria’s wardrobe. She had complained she was never going to get back into it, and you had waved her off. It made you feel silly and out of place and pretty and ridiculous, and you liked the way it swished when you walked. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d swished anywhere. It felt so normal you weren’t sure you could trust it.

When you arrived back at the mess hall the lights had been dimmed, and Johnny and his band were starting to warm up. With the lights down and the paper streamers and stars you could forget for a moment it wasn’t a normal prom, a real one. You felt a surge of pride in your belly, looked around at the tangible good.

You heard the doors to the mess hall swing open, followed by shrieks and laughter and multiple sets of rapidly advancing feet.

‘Oh my god it’s so amazing!’ Mika said, his face illuminated by the warm glow of the string lights, of the smile stretching his cheeks.

‘This is cool,’ Dina said, quietly, up the back, and you grinned. Something in you, some teenage part of you, was quietly relieved.

More kids arrived, some trailed by their parents, and you busied yourself setting up the orange juice and cola station. The kitchen had done little sandwiches and finger food and you wanted to make sure the kids ate, worried you’d send them home on empty stomachs and sugar pinging through their veins. That their parents would never forgive you, and that they would be right.

As soon as the band started up you stepped back, letting the kids swarm the plates and start to dance. You wanted to join them but you also felt a pull back to the edge of the room, kept thinking you were seeing snatches of your sister in the half-light, of you as a girl. You weren’t sure what the feeling was, some kind of melancholic nostalgia, some kind of longing for something that didn’t make sense to you. You’d never even liked prom that much, had mostly just gone because everyone else was. But it was different seeing one from the other side: from the other side of adolescences, from the other side of the end of the world. It felt precious and sad and joyful, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to turn away from it or bottle it up and store it safe under the bed.

You kept wondering if this was what your 14-year-old self ever envisioned for herself, if she could have envisioned anything so apocalyptic at all.

The doors swung open again, and you exhaled the breath you didn’t realise you were holding when Ellie strode in, almost skipping, her face titled up to the ceiling to see all her decorations hanging in the rafters. ‘Holy shit!’ you heard her exclaim, and you cringed a little, trying to avoid the eyes of the parents. You would have to speak to her about that, eventually.

You turned to pour yourself a juice, the acid tingling at the back of your teeth, before you heard heavy footsteps behind you, even over the thrum of the music and of Ellie grabbing Mika and swinging him around the dancefloor.

‘Hey, Teach,’ Joel said, his baritone rumbling out from his chest. You suppressed a shiver.

‘Joel,’ you turned to him, allowing the surprise to show on your face. ‘What are you doing here?’ You were ignoring that he was standing in black suit pants and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, maybe a size too big, you couldn’t be sure. He’d done his hair, or had made an attempt at it, maybe running water through it and in the humidity of the room it had started to curl. You were alarmed at how distinctly you wanted to lean forward and sink your teeth into his neck, to lave at the skin there, to feel his pulse with your tongue.

You swallowed, the juice catching in your throat and making you splutter. Suddenly Joel was beside you, an enormous warm hand between your shoulder blades as you fought, doubled over, for breath.

‘Easy, easy,’ he was saying, and you wanted to slam your eyes shut and imagine him whispering exactly that as he slid inside you, as he rocked into you and felt your cunt quiver around his length. Jesus Christ, you were going to spontaneously combust.

‘Sorry, went down the wrong hole,’ you said, fluttering your hand in front of your face in the hope it would ward him off somewhat. As you straightened, he let his hand slide down your spine and away just as he reached the small of your back, and you felt your spine arch towards where his touch had been.

Fucks sake, you needed to get it together. You were like some horny teenager at, well, prom.

‘Tommy had something he needed to do at home, something with the baby.’

‘Is he OK? Is Maria Ok?’

‘Yeah, they’re fine, the baby just has a sniffle and I believe Maria’s exact words were “you’re not going out there to watch teenagers marinate in their hormones while I sit at home being snotted on by your crotch fruit”.’

You gaped at him. ‘Maria did not say crotch fruit.’

‘Might have put my spin on that bit,’ Joel said, grinning.

For his part, Joel was watching your eyes so that he wouldn’t look down at your dress, a little black flitty number that came up to your knees and down close enough on your chest that when you leant over trying to get your breath he had to move away to resist the urge to stare at the swell of your breasts, instead coming to stand beside you and placing his hand on your back just to try and keep himself standing. You were so fuckin’ pretty, done your hair all up nice. He wanted to swivel you around, tuck you into his chest and nibble on the nape of your neck, put his nose in your hair and inhale as he flipped that silly little skirt over your rear, letting one hand wonder over your cheeks as he slid further down, cupping and probing, into the slick between your legs.

Christ on a cracker, he needed to get it together. He was behaving like Tommy at, well, prom.

‘Place looks great,’ he said, his voice slightly strangled. You gazed up at him, taking a second to comprehend his words.

‘Thanks, Ellie did amazing work with the stars,’ you said, and you knew he knew you were lying, and you also knew he was a good enough Dad that he was going to let you get away with it.

‘She certainly has her own style,’ Joel replied, eyeing one particularly wonky cutout you had strategically placed in a dark corner.

You turned to watch the kids dance, Ellie’s hair bouncing around her face as she twisted her hips, holding Mika’s hand as she did.

‘She’s really gravitated towards him,’ you commented, and you looked over at Joel just in time to see a cloud pass over his face.

‘He probably reminds her of…’ he said, but then he trailed off, recalibrated. ‘He’s a sweet kid, so it makes sense,’ he finished.

‘Oh, speaking of sweet, Billy loves having you on the wall,’ you said, smiling at him and watching him blush.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, and you swore you could see genuine anxiety on his face.

‘Big Bad Joel Miller helping out? Billy getting to tell you what to do? He’s like a pig in shit.’

Joel could feel the heat on his cheeks and was powerless to stop it. ‘Big Bad Joel Miller,’ he echoed, feeling the words on his tongue, seeing how they tasted. ‘Not sure about that.’

‘You must know there are stories,’ you said, leaning into him a little, goading him a little, wanting to see if you could get him to crack and tell you something about himself.

‘Don’t pay any of that much mind,’ he said. ‘Don’t reckon any of ‘em are close to the truth.’

‘Well, no they can’t be,’ you agreed, quickly, feeling like the conversation was slipping from you and not really knowing why.

‘Not sure there are words for some of the shit I’ve…seen,’ he said, and he saw the shift in your face, the shock before you covered it, and he knew that he’d scared you a little, but there were things he didn’t want to talk about, shit that he’d had to do to get Ellie here, to get her to be able to forget the cost of it all. Big Bad Joel Miller. No one had any fucking clue.

He looked over at you, at the way you had sunk into yourself, and he cursed himself. You were too sweet, too warm, and he’d gone and thrown a wet rag on your fire. If you knew about him you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him. He took a step back, too. You’d made him forget for a second, that he was no good to anyone. Especially not to someone like you.

You were lost in your thoughts, watching the kids again but not really seeing. It wasn’t even what Joel had said, although you felt the way he was pushing you away, and you went willingly. It was that as he spoke you realised, finally realised, what the feeling was that had been pulling at you all night.

You were fucking lonely. 14-year-old you might have been OK with the QZ stuff, with what you had to do to survive, with keeping your sister alive along as you could, with making sure her death meant something, even just until they cleared her body away. 14-year-old you might have even been OK with the teaching, although that would take some convincing. But the fact that you were alone, that you were nearing 40 and hadn’t ever really loved anyone other than your family, hadn’t ever really had anyone love you. OK, so you hadn’t married Jonathan Taylor Thomas, in the circumstances maybe for that you got a pass. But that you weren’t with anyone, that you had wanted love for yourself and never got it, that you had wanted to belong in that most specific way and you hadn’t, hadn’t ever really come home. 14-year-old you was screaming and howling and gnashing her teeth. You’d failed her, failed the both of you.

You were horrified to feel a tightness across your throat, the heat building behind your eyes. You needed to get away from all these people, needed to go and pity yourself in peace.

‘I just need some air,’ you said, barely above a whisper, pushing past Joel with your face turned away lest he see your eyes growing redder and wetter by the second.

‘Teach…’ he called after you, but you were gone, heading straight to the door, not seeing Ellie turn to follow Joel’s voice, to see you making a break for it, turning back to him with her hands in the air.

Joel felt his stomach drop, staring back at Ellie with panic written all over his face.

‘What did you do?’ she mouthed to him, and he shrugged, helpless. He’d pushed you away, had shut you down, had been rude and cruel and cold. But he had no idea how to mouth that to his teenage daughter across a dance floor. ‘GO AFTER HER’ Ellie whisper-screamed at him, and it jolted him, got his feet moving before he’d even given it another thought.

You were standing under the awning a couple of paces from the door, leaning on the railing and sucking in the chill of the air. You realised when you heard the door swing open that you’d cornered yourself, cursed yourself for getting all your years in the QZ.

‘Teach,’ he said, and you hung your head. ‘M’sorry, I didn’t mean to…’

‘Wasn’t you, wasn’t that, I just…I needed to breathe for a second.’

Joel paused, watching the way your shoulders rose and fell, sharp and insistent, as you gathered yourself.

He took a step forward towards you, saw the way you flinched and turned away, and stopped, deciding instead to sit on the steps, giving you space but not too much, distance but enough that he could reach out for you if you wanted him to.

‘I did a lot of things to get here,’ he said, after a while. The hair stood up on the back of your neck. ‘I ain’t ashamed of ‘em, I’d do ‘em all again to keep her safe, you understand?’ he asked, and you nodded, still with your back half-turned. ‘Never regretted getting her here, both of us, to safety and to family.’ You nodded again. You knew all of this, had lived all of this, but you didn’t stop him, couldn’t turn to look at him, just let him talk because you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. ‘What bothers me, Teach, is that Big Bad Joel Miller might be too old to do ‘em again.’

You felt a pull towards him, turned your body to peer at his face. He was staring down main street, avoiding looking at you, too.

‘What if I can’t keep her safe?’ he asked, almost to himself. You swallowed, moving towards him, sucked into his gravitational pull. As you sank down beside him on the step, he shuffled to make room for you, but you didn’t want distance, leaning further over so that your shoulders touched. He was so warm even in the chill of the night. You wanted him to take your hands and blow warm breath onto them, smile and put them on his chest to warm them even though the cold of your skin stung him.

‘She’s so capable, Joel,’ you said. ‘You did that. She’ll keep herself safe, soon.’

‘She’s just a kid,’ Joel said, but he wasn’t attacking, just stating a fact.

‘I wasn’t much older on outbreak day,’ you said, simply.

‘Lotsa girls her age weren’t so lucky,’ he replied, quiet.

Blood smattered all over a pink and purple tee-shirt. Curls caked in blood and mud. He swallowed.

‘I know that,’ you said, after a while. Joel watched your face. He saw that it was true, that you knew.

‘S’what was it, if it wasn’t me being so rude to ya?’ he asked, after a long silence that would have made his bones itch if he’d been sharing it with anyone else but you. You shied away a little, and he watched as you started to recede. ‘Hey,’ he said, reprising the conversation from the night at the kitchen table. ‘I want you to tell me what’s up,’ he said, and you smiled, faintly, recognising what he was doing.

‘Prom, I guess. Memories. I don’t know.’ You paused, tried to form the words. ‘It’s all about promise, isn’t it, being a kid and being in high school and doing all of these…rites of passages. There’s an assumption about how things will go. We all make ‘em, made ‘em. Guess it’s hard when they didn’t come true.’

Joel nodded. He wanted to pull you into his lap and rock you, gentle and soft in the night, feel your warm breath on his neck as you pushed your fingertips through the buttonholes of his shirt.

‘Most of the time I’m OK,’ you went on, trying to repair it, slink back under your shell, your slimy snail body suddenly exposed to the elements.

‘Everyone’s OK til they ain’t.’ Joel said. He turned to look at you, swivelled his body to yours so that your knees rested against his. His eyes were so deep and dark in the streetlights, his brows saddled as he petitioned you. ‘I don’t mind it, Teach. You can be all of it with me.’

You felt your heart gallop in your chest, heat suddenly in your belly.

‘So can you, Big Bad Joel Miller,’ you told him, smiling but earnest, wanting him to believe it was true. ‘I’ll take whatever you got,’ you said.

There was a moment, Joel knew, when he could pull back from it. That this was that moment, when he could turn away from you, could crack a joke or make some excuse to head back inside. Could get up and bolt for the gate, swing it open and face whatever demons were out in the darkness so as not to have to face his own. He knew this was the moment of no return, for him.

He looked down at your lips, painted red for prom and so soft, so plump. Your skin soft and glowing so gently in the light. How many more times was he going to have to resist you by porchlight? How many times could he?

‘Joel…’ you whispered, edging yourself closer to him, leaning in without even really thinking about it, watching him mirror you and Joel knew the moment had passed, that your little whimper of his name was branded on his chest, that he would parade it around town for you, would bare it to anyone who wanted to lay their claim.

Your hair was soft, so soft, in his palms as he pulled you into him, his lips crashing into yours, your mouth opening to welcome him, tongue dancing across his. He groaned, from deep down in his belly, for the want of it, for the way his tummy flipped at his first taste of you.

You were pretty sure you were dead. It was the only explanation. But if this was heaven then so fucking be it, because Joel was cupping your face in his hands, and his kiss was insistent and gentle and he was guiding you through it, teasing you open as you felt the hinge of your jaw creak under the pressure of your want for him. You weren’t sure you were breathing. You weren’t sure you cared.

He was pulling you closer, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you into him, the weird angle meaning both sets of knees were in the way. You considered vaulting over the top of him, riding him on the steps of the mess hall while a bunch of teenagers supposedly under your charge danced under paper stars, but you had the wherewithal to hold back, to pry yourself from him, to lean your forehead on his and catch your breath.

Granted, you didn’t have a lot of experience. But you’d never had a kiss that felt like that.

‘Teach,’ Joel said, so quiet and just for you, and you could hear that he was out of breath, that his chest was heaving, that he was fighting it back just as hard as you. He lifted his head and gazed at you, the look of naked desire on his face such that you wanted it to be photographed, painted, hung in a gallery and studied by future generations.

Then, alarms. And yes, you thought, that felt about right. Everything had just shifted off its axis, after all, it made sense that the universe was now screaming.

Except it sounded weirdly familiar. Kind of like the one that you pulled when there was a problem at the gate.

You turned your head down main street as you saw the flood lights come on. You were up, Joel just behind you, as you and your little swishy dress headed towards it, front doors ripping open around you, men and women pulling on jackets over their pyjamas, arming themselves for war.

‘State your business!’ you heard Billy yell from the top of the gate, his rifle trained at a hard angle just beneath him. Jesus, they were close, you realised. Nearly right up on the iron.

You couldn’t hear the reply, vaulting up the ladder without thinking, without a weapon, leaving Joel to defend the gate.

‘State your business!’ Billy called again, and you came up beside him, peeping over the edge to report back on what you could see. There were three of them, that you could see from here. You scanned the treeline, the floodlights turning the trees into fingers scratching harsh at the night sky.

‘Where they come from, Billy?’ you asked, and he gestured with his head over to the right. You picked up the binoculars and scanned.

‘Can’t see any others,’ you reported back, going to the other side and holding up three fingers to the crowd.

‘We’re just passing through,’ the man called back, ‘saw your lights and thought…we’re injured.’

‘Injured how?’ Billy called. You could hear murmuring beneath you, a plan being hatched.

‘One of us is a woman. We were ambushed. They took everything we have, nearly took her but she got away.’

You peered down over the gate, could see that a woman was indeed holding her arm in a sling, her face pale. She was wavering, like she was ready to collapse.

You heard footsteps on the ladder, felt it sway the wall as Tommy appeared beside you.

‘Whatdya reckon?’ he asked you, his eyes focussed but his breath coming in short and fast.

‘They’re telling the truth so far,’ you said, ‘best I can tell.’

You stepped out of the way, Tommy taking your place at the wall while Billy stayed fixed, his gun unwavering from the strangers.

You heard a gasp, a kind of choking shock. ‘No fucking way,’ Tommy said, and you peered over his shoulder again, trying to figure out what he could see. ‘Shauna?’ he called down, the woman’s face snapping up to him, a shaky hand covering her eyes to make him out.

‘Tommy?’ she asked, as though she was dead and found herself at the gates of heaven, surprisingly less gilded than expected. You swallowed, saw Billy’s hold on the gun waver.

‘Open the gates!’ Tommy called, before turning back to the strangers. ‘Hands up and come forward slowly, I’ll meet you there.’

‘Who is that, Tommy?’ you asked him, grabbing at him as he made to hurry past.

‘It’s Shauna,’ he said, his face pale and disbelieving. ‘Where’s Joel?’

‘Who the fuck is Shauna?’ you asked, every nerve ending screaming.

‘She’s Sarah’s mom,’ he said, before he disappeared down the ladder, calling for Joel as he went.

‘Who the fuck is Sarah?’ Billy said to you, his gun lowered but eyeballing the group all the same.

You had no idea.

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[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-four | logical

They moved back to New York shortly before the summer breakup. In a letter redirected to Percy’s apartment for you, your stepmom wrote that things were getting better. Your dad sold up abroad and moved back to be closer to you, apparently, so you could visit more often. The thought of it made you uncomfortable. Moving back to be near you wasn’t the worst thing, though—Rachel having another baby, was.

“The poor kid,” you stared, horrified at the letter.

Through a mouthful of Froot Loops, Percy raised his brows. “Huh?”

“I’m getting another sister,” you tilted your head, a flurry of emotions whirling. You’d love her like you loved Finn, but the thought of her going through the motions the way you did was not particularly pleasant. Would she be stuck inside, too? Would she be barred from leaving? Would she be judged on what she wore, or said or laughed at? Would she be in danger, too? Girls are always judged terribly. You wouldn’t worry like this over Finn.

“You don’t look…happy about that,” he chewed.

You hum softly. “I am happy. Just…I don’t know.”

Percy knew quite a bit about your unpleasant home life. He knew you had ran away last year to escape it, and he knew about the wilderness camp fiasco that felt so long ago. He knew you’d attended Yancy simply because your family didn’t know what to do with you, and it hurt. They were most certainly not equipped with the knowledge or the readiness to be parents to one, let alone three.

“They didn’t know what to do with just me,” you scoff, throwing down the letter in a stray spill of milk. “Why are they…?” Of course that always was the question—why? Why to everything they said and did. It made your brain hurt.

Cooking over by the stove, Paul Blofis flipped pancakes. You shared a table of them, Froot Loops and toppings, a feast fit for a king—and enough of it, too. Paul even let you and Percy flip your pancakes. You’d never been allowed to, before. Not because you were incapable—there was no reason at all. Your father just didn’t want you to, so you never did. But Paul? Patience. Of. A. Saint. Between the giant mess that was mixing the pancake mix with Percy, and actually scooping the mix from the bowl to the pan, burning your pancakes and flipping fresh ones, he was only smiles and encouraging (often strained) words. Percy found it all hilarious, of course, throwing the mix around and getting it on the ceiling. And once Percy did it you had to do it too, because what was being silly if not with your best friend? Sally had rushed to the store on the corner for more supplies and would be back soon with the promise of breakfast and then a visit to Central Park Zoo.

When another letter was redirected to Percy’s apartment, you discovered that your family had at last moved back. With the address scratched with a near-empty pen on a piece of scrap paper, Sally took you over while the boys sorted dinner. You didn’t want to go in, you explained. Only to check the place out. The address took you to a five-storey in a nice neighbourhood in the Upper East Side.

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” said Sally.

You stared, and tried to imagine your family inside. “It’s kind of a wasted trip, then.”

With the car parked up to the curb, you watched the street for a few seconds, Sally allowing you to collect your thoughts. “They’re having another kid,” you blurt. “They sent me away, but they’re having another kid. Is there something wrong with me?”

Sally reached out to you and took your hand in a surprising gesture. She did it to Percy all the time, laying her hand on his shoulder, or grabbing his hand when he struggled with something. You turn your head, to find her already looking at you. Your throat burned.

“No,” she shook her head. Percy had her nose, and her honesty. “Don’t ever think that. You’re one of the smartest, kindest kids I’ve ever met, and if they don’t see that, that is not your fault. Okay?”

Of course it wasn’t okay. You were more of a maid than a daughter, just something pretty to brag about in conversation and meetings. So how could you be okay with their new children potentially being brought up the same way, with a man who believed women were made for everything housework and then some, and that children were seen and not heard, made to abide by every rule the ‘man of the house’ sets?

“Can we go back to your house?” You asked.

She didn’t hesitate in turning around. Perhaps one day, you would tell her all about your thoughts in this moment, and of how despite them, you’d go right back again and again to be upset and humiliated. Human nature, and the want to feel loved. That’s all it ever was. And as a fifteen-year-old, setting boundaries didn’t come as second-nature.

The evening was spent playing Mario Kart, throwing Paul off-course with turtle shells and bananas. Percy beat you Every. Damn. Time. (but he let you win once, and that was enough). The evening ended on cheesy pizza and ice-cream, the radio blasting some recently released song, and Percy cracking jokes from the other room in the dark.

So…the tunnel was a dead end. Of course. You couldn’t have anything lucky. Gasping for breath after sprinting the whole way down, you leaned against the wall trying to catch some oxygen.

Percy keeled over with his hands on his knees. “Holy sh—”

“We’re dead!” Cried Grover. His hands flew to his hair hysterically. “We’re—oh, there’s another tunnel!”

Which, essentially, happened to be half your height and forced you to face the realistic possibility that you might have a fear of enclosed spaces. Crawling through on your stomach, monsters echoing, coming closer down the tunnel was not on the agenda. Something one-hundred-percent not human was too close for comfort, and just when you thought you were dead, the tunnel beneath you gave way, and you slid down a bright-red, plastic slide with a sudden scream, swirling around and around until you came to a stop, slamming into metal bars in a dark room. Percy came to a stop, slamming you once more against the wall with a yelp, and then Grover, screaming his way down the slide, and also colliding with the two of you.

“At least we’ve lost it,” huffed Percy, getting to his feet. He offered a hand down to you, and you took it. “There’s no way it can fit through…well, it’s closed up anyway. Fantastic.”

You offered a hand to Grover, pulling him up to his feet. He shakily exhaled. “But we’ve trapped ourselves, now. Look.”

You turned. The room was huge, a giant square space in which you were trapped, encased by metal bars from floor to ceiling. You approached the silver wall and tested the bars. They were cold to the touch, but moveable. Like jello, when you pressed your hand to it they wobbled but didn’t move apart. Taking the end of your dagger, you poked a bar tentatively. You created a dent in the middle of it that quickly closed up again.

“What the hell?…”

Through the bars were rows of what could only be described as cells, each with metal bars of different thickness and material. At least three stories of cells, except the two above yours were ordinary-looking and simple enough, joined by metal catwalks.

You hadn’t noticed Percy come to your side until he spoke. “It’s a prison,” he pushed on the bars. Though they wobbled, they bent ever so slightly. “Maybe we could…” he reached out for your dagger and tried sawing at them, creating little gashes that left dust floating to the ground. With enough friction, the bars would most definitely cut apart.

Grover approach the bars and tested them. “Someone take that side. If we pull on either side, someone can slip between the bars and get out.”

It might have been the most productive idea anyone’s had in a while. You take a hold of a bar just as Grover said and pull so hard that your arms are shaking. Percy shrugs off his backpack and throws it through the wider gap you’ve created before sliding through, breathing in dramatically with wide eyes. On the other side, he jumped around cheering. You might have smiled and joined him, if the chanting hadn’t started. A deep, low sobbing jolted Percy to shut up quickly, dropping his arms. High above in the building, a raspy voice came, words you didn’t understand.

“What’s that supposed to be?” You whispered to Grover anxiously.

He’d turned shaky, and nodded for Percy to take your bar. “Let’s keep moving. Like, now, Percy. I don’t like the sound of that.”

“But what is it?” The boy asked, pulling for you to slip between the bendy bars.

Grover didn’t reply. You held the bar for him and when he was through you carried on through the building. The ancient-sounding language had stopped, but the crying continued. The lights flickered, and you could hear the electricity running through them, clicking.

“I think it’s a prison,” you said, eyeing the cells. “A huge one. Ha! Imagine we’re in Alcatraz.”

“Be just our luck,” rolled Percy’s eyes.

It didn’t seem possible in the slightest that you could have exited the maze on the other side of the country far from camp, but realistically anything was possible these days. You’d nearly reached halfway through the room when Grover threw out his arm and hissed. “Stop!” You paused. “Can you see that?” He nodded above, eyes trained high.

You look where he did, and focussed on the shape of the second-floor balcony. Standing, if that was the right word, was a monster you’d only seen in books and history class at camp. At least twenty-feet long with the lower-half the body of a dragon and from the waist upward a woman, with constantly changing shapes and animals at her waist. Her hair reminded you of Medusa’s so long ago, snakes snapping and hissing.

“Get down,” Grover prompted, pulling on your arm. You hadn’t even noticed the boys had crouched in the shadows. The monster paid you no attention, and though the language was foreign to you, it was easy to understand that it spoke directly to whoever was in the cell. Everyone held their breath when the footsteps sounded on the stairs, descending. She spread wings you’d failed to see, and in a gust of hot, sulphuric-smelling air, disappeared.

Grover exhaled beside you. A glance at him provided you the sight of him sweating lightly, weary. “H-horrible. I haven’t smelt a monster that strong since forever.”

“Definitely an old one,” you agreed, leaning forward ever so slightly to peer up the floors, hands pressed to the cold ground for balance.

“What was that?” Asked Percy, shoes scuffing as he shifted.

“Kampê,” shook Grover. “When the Titans ruled the world, they imprisoned Gaea and Ouranos’s earlier children. Cyclopes, and Hekatonkheires.”

Percy spluttered. “The Heka-what?”

“The Hundred-Handed Ones,” you shivered. You felt a little ashamed of the disgust you acknowledge at parts of your own world, the unpretty parts. If the gods could hand down traits to their children, you were sure that liking and paying attention to only the nice things was one you had unfortunately inherited. Vanity, and ignorance. “They called them that because they had, like, a hundred hands. They’re the elder brothers of the Cyclopes. Grim, right?”

“Kampê worked for Kronos,” Grover continued. “She kept the Hundred-Handed Ones in Tartarus, tortured them and kept them imprisoned for years. Until Zeus came, I mean. He killed Kampê and freed them all. In return, they fought in the war, against Kronos.”

“And now she’s back.”

Grover nodded. “And now she’s back. So who’s in that cell?”

“Maybe it’s someone she’s captured before? I mean, why else would she be back and making someone cry?”

There was only one solution: checking it out.

With your dagger drawn, Grover on high alert and ready to indicate monsters, and Percy with his sword, together you crept up the metal steps, backs to the wall, scaling. As you grew nearer to the cell, the crying grew louder. You couldn’t help holding back when you saw the creature inside, because you weren’t completely sure on how you would react. It sat against a wall, the colour of milk and pale as anything, with long limbs. His chest sprouted more arms than you could count. His face was long and sad, and the eyes were dark brown with no whites to be seen. All in all, you felt a little sick. No wonder Aphrodite paid special attention to you; you only liked the pretty things in life. Despite the aversion to him, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Somebody so sad didn’t deserve your hate.

“Either the sky isn’t so tall anymore,” uttered Percy, “or he’s short for a Hundred-Handed One.” Said creature looked up when he spoke. You jumped violently.

Grover’s voice shook when he approached the bars. “Hundred-Handed One, please help us.”

The creature wiped his face with numerous hands, and you had to turn around for a second and collect yourself. “Run while you can, Satyr, for I cannot even help myself.”

“But, sure you can! You’re a Hundred-Handed One. You can do anything!”

The false positivity did na-da. The creature’s hands twisted bits of metal and wood, building a toy boat, and pretend characters with swords and bows and arrows. As quickly as they appeared, they dismantled.

“I cannot!” He denied, weeping sadly. “Kampê has returned. The Titans will rise and throw us into Tartarus once more.” You couldn’t argue there. The way things were going, chances weren’t looking good.

“Come on! Put on a brave face and let’s do this!” Oh, Grover, ever the positive. You couldn’t say the same for Percy and yourself—you looked at him, to find him jabbing his thumb down the stairs.

The creature’s face morphed. He now had a pointed noise, arched brows and a strange smile, but it quickly faltered and melted away, returning to the sad one. “No good,” he sighed depressingly. “My scared face keeps coming back.”

“How did you do that?” Percy gasped.

You coughed. “The Hundred-Handed Ones have fifty different faces, Percy!” You smiled to say please shut up.

He shrugged. “Must make it hard to get a yearbook picture.” You struggled to not laugh.

“Guys,” Grover interrupted. “We have to get out of here. Kampê will be back and sooner or later she’s going to sense us in here.”

“Break the bars,” you nod to the creature. His hands start playing rock-paper-scissors, making no move to escape.

“Listen, what’s your name?” Said Grover.

The creature mumbled sadly, deflating visibly against the wall, slumping. “I am Briares.”

Percy leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Why is he not breaking out?”

You turn your head ever so slightly. “He’s just scared, I think. Imagine being imprisoned and tortured not once but twice?”

“I cannot,” Briares moaned. “Kampê will only punish me.”

“It’s alright!” Said Grover. “You’ve fought the Titans before, you can do it again!”

“I remember the war,” Briares’s face morphed into one of reminiscing. “Lightening shook the world. We tried hard. The Titans and the monsters almost won, and now they are close to doing so again. Kampê said so herself.”

You wave your dagger around flimsily as you talk. “What, and you just believe everything Kampê says, now? Come on, man! Get up. You can’t change anything if you don’t try.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cheered Percy. “Come on, Briares! You’ve got this!”

He didn’t move an inch.

“How about a game of rock-paper-scissors?” Voiced Percy lightly. You gave him an ‘are you crazy?’ look.

Briares’s face turned hopeful. “I always win rock-paper-scissors.”

Percy clapped his hands. The sound reverberated. “If I win, you come with us. If you win, you stay and rot in this cell. How about that?”

He agreed. There came a series of hands on palms, three times, and thanks to Briares’s hundred hands, it was like thunder rumbling. On three, he came up with an assortment of rocks, papers and scissors, enough for a school set. He shook his head sadly again. “I told you, I always—what is that?”

“A gun. Gun always wins.”

“That’s not fair!” Briares protested.

“I never said anything about fair,” smirked Percy. Kampê won’t be fair if we hang around. Now, get up, and let’s get out of here!”

Briares sniffled, but climbed to his feet. In one swift move, he reached out with his hands and ripped the bars right out. “Demigods are cheaters.”

You felt relief at finally moving again. That is, until you took the steps frantically, only to walk straight into Kampê, waiting at the bottom. She snarled at you, waiting. You backed up right into Grover, knocking him over.

“The other way,” said Percy.

Briares was more than happy to do this. In fact, he ran ahead, arms waving frantically at the sight of Kampê. You took the lead next, lungs burning, Grover and Percy right behind. The sound of giant wings took to the air above, and though she spoke in her ancient language, you didn’t have to understand it to understand her intentions. Through a corridor, down the stairs and out into another prison block, facing doorway after doorway. You faltered, skidding to a stop.

“Agh—that way!” You dove left, the boys close behind. Now in the prison yard, surrounded by security towers and old barbed wire, the bright sunshine blinded you. People milled idly, taking pictures of the building you emerged from. You turned, and lo and behold—“Alcatraz?!” You fumed. Over the edge, San Francisco stood proudly, in the North, dark clouds gathered over Mount Tamalpais, where Atlas held up the sky. You had a sudden, scary thought that that must be where the Titans were preparing. After all, nobody else would dare approach the area.

“Keep moving! She is behind us!”

To the far end of the yard, right up as the far wall exploded, raining dust and hard debris. Coughing as it pelted you, holding a hand out to the closest wall, you tried to wipe it from your face. People screamed all around.

Percy looked to you. Even covered in dry dust, his eyes were furiously bright, just like the green of the ocean on a clear day. “It’s your call,” he said.

“Run.” That was the end of the debate. Out the gates, emergency sirens blared. It was like something from a movie. A group of tourists stood by the Wharf, where a boat sat. Grover said you should take it.

“Too slow,” said Percy.

“We should go back into the maze.”

Across the yard, where you tripped on stray bricks, the wall to the cell block stood ripped open. Through the messed-up conundrum, you located the entrance to the maze. Briares ripped off the bars of your previous cell, but upon searching the wall for the mark of Daedalus, it came up smooth.

Grover reached high on the wall, for a tiny dent. Upon touching it, the indent changed shape and glowed. The wall opened up. Down the cell block, Kampê roared. She charged, but came up slow. As you were the last to dive into the maze, you watched as the wall closed up, and not a second too soon. Hot air cut off as the wall shut. You dug around your pockets for a flashlight, flicking it on.

The group moved through the maze, through a room purely made of waterfalls all leading into one large, slippery pit. The steps around it were covered in moss and dew; one wrong move and you’d fall and drown. When you shone the flashlight down the black pit, all you could see was murky, dark water, and not the bottom of the pit. Percy looked unsettled.

Briares slumped against a mossy wall along the steps. “This pit goes straight down into Tartarus,” he declared. “I should jump in now, and saw you demigods a lot of trouble.”

“Don’t think like that,” you sighed softly. “It’s not right. You could help with what’s coming.”

“I have nothing to offer,” he shook his head. “I have lost everything.”

“What about your brothers?” Asked Grover, offering logic. “Surely they’re still here. You could find them again.”

Briares offered only sadness and the sense of giving up. “They have faded. They are gone.”

Percy, a little irritated, clasped his hands. “What exactly do you mean they’re gone? Surely monsters are immortal like the gods.”

Grover said weakly, “Percy, even immortality has limits. Sometimes monsters are forgotten, and they lose their will to stay immortal. They grow tired.”

You only thought of Medusa, and her sisters having left her. As awful as she was, nothing could be worse than being alone and forgotten in the world. How cold it must be.

“I must go,” Briares stood.

“Kronos is going to take over the world!” Grover protested. He went to move, but looked at the waterfalls, and thought better of it. “Help us!”

“I cannot,” he hung his head. It was like watching a dying animal with nothing to help it. “I cannot, demigods. I do not have a finger gun to win this type of game.”

“Maybe that’s why you monsters fade,” Percy glared. “Because you give up on yourself. Not because mortals forget you.” Ouch.

Shame wrote all over his face. Without a word, Briares turned up the steps, where different paths had appeared. He took one at random and disappeared down the dark corridor.

You sighed, shrugging your backpack higher on your shoulders. “Come on, guys. I hate it in here. Let’s go find someplace to sit; I’m starving.”

In a marble corridor, with bronze torch holders lit and hanging from the walls, you settled against the wall. It reminded you very much of an old Greek tomb, and felt somewhat comfortable for the soul, like reattaching with a piece of yourself after so long. Chewing on a cereal bar, you said, “We’re probably close now. Hopefully. We’ll get going again in the morning.” If it was even night time, now.

“How do we know when it’s morning?”

You smiled. “When we wake up, Grover.”

He pulled a heap of straw from his bag and ate some, making the rest into a pillow. He was out like a light before you could say ‘goodnight’. Percy took a place a little away from you, further down the corridor from where you sat keeping watch. You dug out a thin book from your bag and read in the glow light from the walls, keeping your ears open and looking up every few seconds.

There’s a shuffle of Percy getting up and sliding down the wall beside you. You lay your book down on your knees.

“You should really get some sleep,” you tell him. “You’ll be exhausted, otherwise.”

“I can’t sleep. Are you doing okay?”

You eye the wall opposite. “Hm. I mean, besides being down here for a ton of time and not making any contributive progression to the quest? Sure.”

“Hey,” he reasoned softly. “You’re doing great. We’ll get to the workshop, I know we will.”

You sigh deeply, crossing your ankles out in front. “I know. I just wish it all made some sense, really. I mean, I thought that we could have a system and stick to it and get to the workshop and back as quick as possible. But everything keeps changing and none of my ideas are working out so…I mean, how have we travelled from state to state in a day or two? It doesn’t make sense. I thought I could do this. But really, Percy, I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing. I took a huge bite out of something that wasn’t meant for me, I think. I was kidding myself.”

“Look, if that was the case, the Oracle never would’ve given you the prophecy. She gave it to you because this was meant for you. Don’t doubt yourself, B, you’re doing great. And, besides, when do we ever really know what we’re doing? Like when we got led astray by the wood nymphs in Central Park—”

You bark an echoey laugh. “That was your fault!”

“And the time you got us thrown off that ride at Waterland?”

“Again, your fault!”

“See!” He laughed, knocking an outstretched leg into yours. “We’ll be okay. I promise.”

You smile, but Hera’s words suddenly do a loop in your head. “Percy…”

“Yes, B?” He tilts his head, thinking you’re going to say something funny. His face falters at your serious look.

“When Hera said you know how to get through this maze, was she telling the truth?” He opens his mouth. “Because if you know the way and you’re not telling me—”

“I don’t know what she was talking about,” he denies. “Honestly.”

You lift your brows at the front, knitting together. “You’d tell me if you did, wouldn’t you, though?”

“Of course I would. Just, maybe if…”

“Maybe what?”

“If you told me what the last line of the prophecy was, it might help.”

Being so busy in the maze had you forgetting that you’d kept that part of your prophecy a secret, not only to keep your panic at a low level, but everyone else’s, too. But maybe he’s right; you’d be admitting to something big, for you, but at the end of the day, if anything were to happen which you could prevent…

“…’Lose a love to worse than death’. That was the last line. Super cheery, huh?” You pick at a thread on your pants so you don’t have to look at him.

He sits silent for a minute. “‘Lose a love’ could be anyone, though, right? I mean…”

Your heart hammers away. You can’t look up but you know just the look he’ll have on his face. You both know which type of love the prophecy talks about. If he’s worried about Travis being the one, Travis isn’t here. And it certainly isn’t Grover.

Percy sighs quietly. “Oh…”

You chuckle. “Yeah, oh.”

“Is that why you were upset, in your cabin? That’s why you…asked for me to come, but worried about it…”

“Now do you see?” You shuffle, bringing your knees up to your chest again. You’ve just admitted that you love your best friend, and he’s oddly quiet about it. Maybe you’ve done the wrong thing. Maybe you ought to have kept your mouth closed. “I couldn’t imagine doing this without you, Percy, and clearly you’re a big part of this quest. I just don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. To any of us. I promise.”

You smile unsurely. “You’re making a lot of promises, dude. That’s a bad idea.”

Running a hand through his dark, dark hair, Percy denies. “Not if I keep them. You should get some rest, anyway. You’re tired.”

You won’t say no to a bit of sleep, so you ball up a t-shirt from your bag and use it as a pillow, laying down with your back to the wall. Failing to fall asleep quick enough, you open your mouth into the darkness. “I’ve been having these dreams about Nico. I think he’s trying to raise the dead.”

He replies straight away. “Me too. I think he’s been using the tunnels for a lot longer than we have. That’s where he went in winter, when he disappeared. I think, anyway.”

You can’t imagine how scared he must be. You’re fifteen, and with your friends, but the terror down here is unlike anything else. It’s a constant, eery feel up your spine, like somebody really is walking on your grave.

You don’t think on it too heavily. You close your eyes, hand under your cheek, and sleep.

You began to grow agitated the more time went on. A quick breakfast of cereal bars and a small box of apple juice, and the three of you were back once again to rule the roost of the labyrinth. Or, you liked to think so, anyway.

Dead end after dead end, you eventually started to lose it. “Goddamn it! This doesn’t make sense!”

Grover, eating a roll of straw noisily, nodded in agreement. He watched you like he was watching a reality television meltdown episode. “My brain feels like it’s turned into water.”

You point at him with the end of your dagger unintentionally, making him yelp and scatter backward. “That. That is accurate. Now—why is it turning into wood?!” You followed the changing interior with your eyes, from stone into wooden beams and rock. “It should still be stone!”

Nonetheless, your group pressed on until the walls turned into a room full of sharp stalagmites and dark, dirt floor. Nothing stood out—besides the giant, silver foil wrapper just laying around. You leaned down to pick it up with the tips of your fingers, grimacing at the crumbs falling out.

“D’you think Nico was down here?”

Percy hummed. “Summoning the dead, still.”

“Smells like the dead down here,” Grover agreed, sniffing violently. “Definitely dead things.”

“Beautiful.” You crunched the wrapper in your hand. “Do you think we could use it to find Nico?”

“Like Hansel and Gretel?” Percy quipped, with a cheeky smile. Grover belched a laugh promptly. Boys. Irritation became you.

Despite their joking at the serious matter, you were grateful they’d managed to keep their cool, especially since you’d been slowly losing yours the longer you were down in the maze. You walked on ahead, footsteps oddly quiet with the vast nature of the space. Behind you, the boys laughed about some stupid to programme and Burger King, but their odd conversation was the least of your worries. Through the dark tunnel ahead, a single beam of light shone through from above, like the clouds in the sky would part and let light in from a distance. Something twisted in your gut, and the farther you grew from the boys’ jesting, closer to the grid of light, the stronger the feeling became. You’d guided the way on pure feeling, of what felt right and what felt terribly wrong. You couldn’t help feeling, now, that you’d made the right choice coming this way.

Standing under the pitch of light, looking up, your stomach lurched, and a full-body feeling that you’d done the right thing came over you. You could see trees, and bright-blue sky. No clouds, but a whole lot of sunshine. It felt warm. You were looking through a metal grate, and staring a red-color cow in the face.

A red cow?

You pulled a face, and pocketed your dagger in your backpack. Reaching as tall as possible on your tiptoes, you reached up for the grate, touching your fingers to the metal bars and pushing as far as you could. The cow moved along, thank goodness, because you were starting to think that the feeling in your stomach wasn’t that you were going the right way but actually because the sight of a red cow was ringing alarm bells (and mild nausea).

By the time Percy and Grover caught up to you, you’d managed to shift the grate over a little bit.

“What is it?” Percy breathed. “We thought you’d—”

“I think it’s a cattle-guard,” you cut him off. “Give me a boost, Percy. I’ve got a feeling we’re about to find Nico.”

“What’s a cattle-guard?” He asked, kneeling. Percy cupped his hands, and you placed your foot in it. As he boosted you up, you grabbed Grover’s shoulder and pushed, leaning to shove the guard out of the way. Your fingers brushed soft grass, and you almost melted.

“They put them at the gates of ranches,” explained Grover. “So the cows don’t escape. They can’t walk on them.”

“How’d you know that?” Really, Percy?

Grover huffed indignantly. “Trust me—if you had hooves, you’d know about it.”

Once your upper body is out, you shift your lower body out of the grate, elbowing your way out and across the grass. It’s warm and soft, and you could almost believe you were safe. If it weren’t for the bright-red cows, the color of cherries, roaming the place and eyeing you like you were a great source of minerals. For some reason, Hera’s visit plays on your mind. You reach down on your stomach for Percy, next, as he steps into Grover’s clasped hands and reaches for your arms. After he’s up, the two of you reach for Grover, who takes a jump at the opening while you both grasp his arms, yanking him out of the maze.

Grover wrinkled his nose, eyeing your surroundings. It might have been heavenly if not for the animals and the weird smell of manure. “Red cows? They’re sacred to Apollo, aren’t they?”

Percy barked a laugh. “Holy cows?”

Nodding, Grover clicked his fingers. “Exactly. But what are they doing out here?”

“Go ask one—”

Percy slapped a sweaty hand over your mouth. You almost gagged, and pried his hand away. He shook his head, and that’s when you heard it. Rustling, and tiny treads. Turning around, goosebumps rattling your skin, you came face-to-face with…

A dog.

But not any normal dog, because you weren’t that lucky. A two-headed dog.

You rolled your eyes so violently it hurt. Waving a hand to the dodgy dog, you sighed. “Just go back to the maze. Get in the maze. I can’t, really.”

"Hang on!" Percy held out his hand. "Didn't Hera say something about a farm?"

Ah. "I mean...she couldn't have meant one with freaky dogs and cows, could she?" Abnormal is normal in your world. Unfortunately, more likely than not, abnormal means you're on the right track. Its when things die down that you have to worry.

"Nico might be here," Percy reasoned. "Why don't we go ahead, take a look around, and if he isn't here we'll go back, inside the maze"

With a deflated sigh, you cast your eyes around the fields. Hills rolled, and rolled, and rolled as far as the eye could see, holding your hand up to shield your face from the sun. Cacti and boulders dotted around, and trees sprouted randomly, almost bare under the burning of the sun. Those red cows grazed on grass, mooing in the distance. You didn't like the feel of the ranch by any means, but you did feel that you were on the right track. Percy was right; Nico was here, at least nearby. What was the harm?

The dog growled behind you, you'd almost forgotten it was there. With a bark from both heads, it advanced, sniffing the air. It closely resembled a greyhound, thin and long with sleek, brown fur. It, obviously, did not appreciate seeing you on its farm.

And neither did its owner.

A tall, broad man came trudging from the same bushes the dog emerged from, wearing a straw cowboy hat and a tee that said 'Don't Mess With TEXAS'. He carried a huge wooden club sporting spikes bristling from the end against his muscular shoulder. His white hair lay messed from whatever work he was doing, and his mouth was curled in an impressed snarl.

All in all, a very good sign.

"Heel, Orthus," he grumbled. The dog whined but sat, paws held tight together.

You choked on your own breath. "Orthus?" You wrangled out.

Percy leaned in close, as if the man and his dog were not standing right there. "Is that a bad thing or just a really bad name for a dog?"

"This is Cerberus's brother!" You beamed shakily. "The lovely dog we met in the Underworld, remember?"

Gulping, Percy leaned back. "Ah."

The place really was a Greek past come back to haunt you. From ancient monsters to ancient greek ghosts, the party never ended. Maybe it was Luke's doing, releasing them back into the world Perhaps you just got unluckier the further you wewnt on this quest.

"What've we got here?" the man swung down his club. "Cow-pushers?"

"We're only passing through. Just travelling."

"We're on a quest," added Grover helpfully.

The man, who couldn't have been older than middle-age, raised a suspicious brow. "Oh yeah?" he said sardonically. You nodded your head frantically. Being under fire was the least of your concerns when the dog still sat there. "Half-bloods, eh?"

Percy scratched his head. "Could you tell?"

Dropping your hand on his arm, you back Percy up peacefully. Maybe an explanation will help. The man considers the three of you. "This is Percy, son of Poseidon. And Grover, the satyr. I'm a daughter of Athena-"

With a nod of his head, the man's mouth curved. "She the mediator?" He looked from Percy to Grover, completely blanking you. Humiliation pinched you. The man dropped all feelings of humour at your expense and glowered. The change was so sudden you couldn't help raising your hand to the strap of your backpack and feeling for your dagger, making sure it was still there. "I know what you are, half-bloods, because I am one. Surely if you know your legends you should know who I am, missy?" You were not offered a chance to guess. "Eurytion, the cowherd for this ranch. Son of Ares. And I'm guessin' you came through the maze like the other one."

"The other one?" questioned Percy. "Did he mention his name?"

"We get a lot of people come through the ranch," Eurytion uttered somewhat darkly. "Not a lot leave."

"Wow," drawled Percy. "I feel so incredibly welcome."

Eurytion looked over his shoulder like he was expecting someone. Then he turned back and lowered his voice. "I'll only say it once, demigods. You'd better get back inside that maze before its too late."

"Ha! Don't have to tell me twice." You make for the empty cattle-grid hole. A firm hand pulls around the strap of your backpack and stops you before you can jump down.

"We're not going anywhere," Percy said adamantly, "until we see this other half-blood you mentioned."

Eurytion grumbled. He set on past you, past Grover analysing him, and the move of Percy's grip from your bag to your hand, gently tugging you along after the man. "Then you've left me no choice. Should have listened to your girlfriend, here."

Percy spluttered, you stared mortified after the man. Grover shoved a hand at either of your back's to urge you along the way.

Despite his threatening nature, and unhappy expression, the dog at Eurytion's feet seemed relatively happy, diving in and out of bushes and around cacti, barking and springing around. Heat danced off the beaten path he led you down, going on for forever. A blister began to rub at the back of your heel, and before long you were shaking off your jacket, sweating like crazy. It dripped down your face and flies buzzed at your ears, so when you swiped them away every five seconds you closely resembled a crazy woman. At this point, it didn't feel far off. Every few yards, you passed by pens of the cherry cows, and weirder animals, like horses with zebra stripes in black and green, and lizards in cages with tiny little wings and bloodshot eyes that followed you. A fence held back horses in a pen, covered in spikes. At first, you wanted to take Eurytion's giant club and break them free, until you watched a couple breathe fire. The ground at their feet was dirty and charred somewhat, and their stack of hay was on fire.

Percy and Grover shared your reluctance for the animals. "What are they for?" asked Percy. Grover attempted to talk to them and recieved a billow of fire.

"We raise animals for lots of clients; The Lord Apollo, Diomedes, others..."

You draw your eyes to him. "Such as?" you drawl.

"No more questions!"

Your guide came to an end at the approach of a big, white house on an incline, all stone and beautiful windows. It might have been Victorian, judging by the porch trimming and the rose-tinted stained-glass front door.

"Don't break the rules," uttered Eurytion, quiet as ever. "No fightin'. No weapons. And no comments about the boss."

Up the steps, you snorted. "What's wrong with 'the boss'?"

Before he could reply, a new voice called out along the porch. "Aha! Welcome to the Triple G Ranch!"

Oh, sweet gods. At first glance, he seemed normal enough, if you took away the Sportacus-style moustache on his face. He had shiny black hair, and smiled individually at each of you. The wrong part of this was the three bodies.

You held back a gag. The nightmares would be neverending once you got out of here.

Eurytion nudged you. "Say hello to Mr. Geryon," he muttered.

Your voice failed you. Before anyone could do anything, the colored doors to the house flew open, a young voice calling out. After so many months, hearing him was like a breath of fresh air. You could breathe, because Nico was here. Black hair in flat tendrils brushed his brown eyes, a very pale face and small nose scrunching, eyeing the labelled jar in his hands. You forgot, almost, how young Nico really was, but he was here, wandering the maze alone.

You stepped forward, the porch creaking. "Nico?"

It grew silent, but quickly changed. Nico threw the jar to the ground, and it smashed to tiny, tiny pieces. Drawing his sword, he angled it almost instantly at your throat, a fierce expression on his face. The sword he pointed at you was short, extremely sharp-edged, and black, some sort of iron you hadn't seen before. Was it a gift from Hades, you wondered?

Geryon yelled when he saw it. "Put the sword away, Mr. di Angelo. I will not have my guests killing each other."

Nico's face dropped, eyes wide. "But..."

Geryon threw down the skewers he was holding. They clattered against the metal grate of the barbecue he cooked at. You jumped. "I know who they are!"

"They let my sister die! They're here to kill me, too!"

"Nico!" astonished, you reached out your hands, but he shoved away, a terrible hatred in his eyes. "We want to help you, not hurt you. Bianca was an accident—”

“Don’t say her name!” He yelled. There was such an act of anger in his voice. “You’re not even worthy of talking about her! You killed her!”

“Hey!” Barked Percy, approaching behind. “That’s not fair. It’s—hang on, how do you know who we are?”

Geryon winked. “It’s my business to know of everyone who passes by the ranch, sonny. Everyone who comes this way wants something, you see. Now, Mr. di Angelo, put away the damned sword before I have Eurytion take it from you.”

Very reluctant, Nico sheathed his sword. If he weren’t a hell of a lot shorter than you, the boy might have been looking down his nose to you. “If any of you come near me, I’ll summon help. And trust me, you don’t want me to do that. Got it?”

So demanding. To keep the peace, you nodded once. “Yeah. Sure. That’s fine.” If you looked compliant to Nico’s demands, you stand a better chance of him leaving the maze with you.

Geryon approached heavily and clapped a hand on Nico’s shoulder. You wanted nothing more than to pull the young boy away from him. “There, there. We’ve all made nice. Come along folks, I wanna give you a tour of the ranch!”

You weren’t sure what to expect when he said tour, but a ride in a small two-cart and car mobile was not it in the slightest. The carts were painted black and white in a cowhide pattern, a bell dancing back and forth from the ceiling of the car cab.

“Damn,” you huffed, climbing up after Grover and settling heavily into the seat. “I was hoping for a Mercedes.” He snorted after you. “Never-less, we ride in style.”

The dire cart lurched forward, its gold bell ringing above. Geryon pointed out different animals and pens, chugging along the hills. You couldn’t help enjoying it somewhat, able to take the humour from the situation after a stressful few days. You pointed out some sheep with shaggy black hair and eight pudgy legs, like spiders. They walked in a line like Capybaras, round and round the pen. Past horses with wings but not Pegasus. Their wings were scarlet, and fluffy.

“Do they lay eggs?” Asked Grover, leaning forward to squint at the animals.

“Once a year!” Geryon called over his shoulder. You couldn’t help feeling sorry; the animals didn’t look too happy. “They’re very in demand, lately. The omelettes are spectacular!”

“That’s cruel!” Cried Grover, sitting back with hunched shoulders.

“Gold is gold,” Geryon waved off, a mean grin taking place. “And, you haven’t tasted the omelettes. Hush.”

“That’s not right,” Grover muttered. Geryon continued his narrated tour with the sun beating down. You wished you packed sunscreen as your cheeks began to itch.

“Now, over here are the fire-breathing horses. You probably saw ‘em on your way up here. They’re bred for war, fightin’, if you couldn’t tell.”

“What war?” Asked Percy.

You didn’t like his sly face. “Oh, you know, whichever comes around. And over there are the prized red cows.”

“There’re so many!” Grover peered.

“Yes, well. Dear Apollo is too busy to see them,” he sneered. “He subcontracts to us. We breed them vigorously; there’s such demand as of late.”

“That’s not dodgy at all.”

“Demand for what?” Pried Percy tensely.

“Food, of course.” Duh, Percy, it sounded like. “Armies gotta eat.”

You hum. “So, if I’m getting this right, you kill the sacred cows of a god for burger meat? I swear that’s against some laws, man.”

“Lordy, girl! Don’t get so worked up! They’re just animals.”

Grover almost had a fit. “Just animals?!”

“Yes. If Apollo cared, he would let us know.”

“That’s if he knows,” you fold your arms, putting your feet up on the side of the cart. Geryon met your eye in the mirror—if looks could kill.

A little voice cried from the back cart. Nico. “We had business to discuss, Geryon, and this isn’t it!”

“All in good time, di Angelo,” he mused. He hooted. “Look over here; my exotic possessions.”

The field now was crawling with scorpions, the giant, creepy ones that originally backed you and Percy into the maze. They snapped and clacked, and tried pinching at the fence as you passed.

“Triple G Ranch! Your mark was on the crates at camp. Quintus got his scorpions from you!”

“Quintus?” Geryon shrugged. “Short, grey hair, muscular?”

“Yeah,” said Percy.

“Never heard of ‘im.”

Something cold spread in your chest. Realisation, almost. “Oh,” you shivered. “Hang on. Quintus knew about the maze the whole time, then. He’s been going in and out for who knows how long trading monsters. We’ve been trying to figure out how the maze works, but the loser’s known this whole time!” Grover whispered for you to quieten down, but you couldn’t. Because if Quintus knew about the maze, knew where the ranch was and how to get to it, and back out again, who could say he hadn’t done it before. Who could say he hadn’t led Luke and the army into the maze, and who was to say he wasn’t guiding them. He hadn’t protested your quest. Just what the hell was he playing at?

“Now, to your left you’ll see the very best the ranch has to offer!”

The ‘very best’ turned out to be a terrible state of a stables, containing horses just mulling around in their own…you know what. Sitting beside a giant, green-tinged river, the stables had to be the most disgusting display of very best you ever set your eyes on. From the back of the cart, Nico gagged loudly at the smell.

“What the hell is that?!”

Geryon smiled proudly. “My stables! Well, technically we house the horses for a small fee. Aren’t they just…” he inhaled deeply, “beautiful.”

Percy scoffed, and Grover yelled out. “They’re disgusting! How can you even keep innocent animals like that?”

Geryon slammed a palm down on the cart. You didn’t jump this time; you expected it. “Y’all are getting on my damn nerves. These are flesh-eating horses. They like these conditions!”

“Have you asked them?” You tapped your fingers on your thigh.

“It’s in their nature,” Geryon ground through clenched teeth. “They love it.”

“Plus, you’re too cheap to have them cleaned out,” came a voice beneath Eurytion’s hat.

Geryon snapped. “Quiet, now! Alright, perhaps the stables are challenging to keep on top of. Maybe they do make me feel nauseous. And what? I still get paid.”

There were many words you could have used to describe Geryon: cheap, distasteful, creepy, rude. The fitting word in this case, given his prideful and clearly narcissistic nature, was…

“You’re a monster.”

Geryon stopped the cart. Grover let out a sad sigh, watching the horrible man turn in his seat. He met your gaze. “What gave it away, sweetheart? Was it the three bodies?”

You rolled your eyes and looked away, slouching down the seat as if it would get the attention off of you. “Don’t be condescending. I’m only telling the truth.”

His nostrils flared, hot-tempered. “My clients appreciate it. I do good work, here.”

You let out a sudden laugh sitting upright. “Is one of these ‘clients’ Kronos, at all?” Percy whispered your name warningly. “You just supply his army, don’t you?”

Geryon shrugged and confirmed it without words. “I work for anyone who can pay.” He climbed out of the cart and took a leisurely stroll toward the stables, as if he hadn’t just confirmed he was working with Kronos. A tiny figure scampered after him, and a much bigger one—Eurytion—after him.

“We really need to grab Nico and get out of here.”

Grover nodded in agreement. “How, though? I might be wrong but he doesn’t really seem to want to come with us.”

“Anyone got snacks left? Maybe we can bribe him with food.”

“He isn’t a dog,” snickered Percy. “We just need to get close enough and then run.”

“We’re not kidnapping a kid, Percy.”

“I came here for business!” Nico screamed from the stables side. “And you haven’t answered me!”

Geryon reached out and plucked up a handful of cactuses like they were soft teddies. “You’ll get a deal, all right.”

Nico’s tiny figure got right in Geryon’s personal space. “My ghost told me you’d help! He said you could guide us to the soul we need.”

You groaned. “He has a personal ghost assistant now?” Laying your head back against the wood, you watched Percy, grappling with something internally. His face twisted, then he nodded his head.

“I think it’s Minos.”

Grover spluttered, hooves clattering on the cheap floor of the cart. “As in, King Minos? Dead Minos?”

“I haven’t heard of anyone else called Minos…”

You exhale slowly. “Damn, I thought I was the soul Nico wanted. Y’know, after what happened to Bianca.”

In a tiny voice, Percy murmured, “Me, too.”

“You thought Nico wanted my soul and didn’t say anything about it?”

“Apparently so.”

“Can you help me or not?!” Nico cried.

Geryon shrugged. “Oh, I could. Your ghost friend; where is he?”

Nico struggled, looking uneasy. “He can’t appear in broad daylight. But he’s around somewhere.”

Geryon nodded slowly, watching Nico’s reactions. “I figured. Typical Minos, always disappearing when things get difficult.”

Nico stepped back, right into Eurytion. “What do you mean by difficult?”

“You see, Nico, Luke Castellan is offering a bit of money for half-bloods, especially powerful ones like you and Percy, over there. When Luke learns just who you are, Nico, you’ll be priceless! He’ll pay…very well, to put it lightly.”

In a flash Nico drew his sword, but Eurytion grabbed it with a strong hand and threw it from his grip. You jumped up in an instant and pulled your dagger, only to be thrown down back in the seat by a strong force and a snap of snarling jaws. Geryon laughed heartily. “I’d stay in the car, you guys! Or Orthys will tear out your friend’s voice box! So, Eurytion, could you please secure Nico and take the sword. I do hate Stygian iron.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you absolute fool!”

Eurytion picked up Nico in one strong arm, kicking and flailing, and the sword in his free hand. Geryon turned and clapped his hands, pleased. “So, let’s go back to the house, hm? We can have lunch and send a message to our friends in Kronos’s army. Once Nico has been delivered, you three are free to go! I have been paid for your safe passage, which does not include Mr. di Angelo, I’m afraid.”

“Paid by who?” Threw Grover.

“Never you mind!” He snapped, then calmed. “Let’s go, then.”

“Wait!”

You wanted to tell Percy to shut up and let you make the plans, because you’d gotten this far. But the dog still had you pinned down, and smelled so bad you could scarcely breathe without wanting to heave.

“You said you’re a businessman,” said Percy. “So make me a deal. I’ve got something better than gold.”

Geryon mulled over this. “Mr. Jackson, you have nothing.”

“You could have him clean the stables,” offered Eurytion not-so-helpfully.

Percy jumped at the chance. “I’ll do it! If I fail, you get all of us. You can give us to Luke.”

“That’s assuming the horses don’t think you’re a bite to eat.”

“Either way, you’ll get my friends! But if I succeed, you have to let us all go, and Nico!”

“No!” Screamed Nico ungratefully. “I don’t want your help, Percy!”

Geryon laughed mirthlessly. “Percy, the stables have not been cleaned in years. Though I could probably sell more space if they’re cleaner…”

“So what have you got to lose?”

Idiot boy.

Eurytion stared at the sun and nodded. “Okay. I’ll accept your offer. But if you fail, your friends are sold off and I get rich.”

“Deal.”

Eurytion rubbed his hands together greedily. “I’ll take your friends back up the hill with me. They can wait for you there.” He whistled, and the dog on your lap jumped away from you and onto Grover’s feet.

Percy climbed out of the cart and rounded to your side, sitting up. He was red in the face from the heat of sitting under the sun in jeans, and the pressure of making a terrible deal. He locked eyes with you.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, here.”

“I hope so, too.” His hand slipped from the edge of the cart.

“Sunset!” Geryon instructed. “No more time after that.”

You left Percy by the lake under the hot, hot sun.

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[tojiscrack]

•°. *࿐ 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄

tw: swearing, mention of nipples, arguing (counts as bantering), just chaos tbh

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

notes: the way i was bawling my eyes out for the new jjk ep that came out today whilst also trying to simultaneously stay happy for my husband’s birthday. had to distract myself, so here’s my gojo!birthday post! enjoyyy <33

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

certain events were taken very seriously in your household. it would be extremely unnatural if you missed something as simple as the first day back to school or the last day of school, even.

to be fair, as much excitement as you held for little events such as those, your partner’s excitement was enough to accustom every other member of your house (there were three of you, excluding satoru gojo).

seriously: he had only recently thrown a child-like tantrum because you’d forgotten the anniversary of your first sparring session three years ago — who even remembers shit like that? what happened to the normal, memorable events like valentines day, mothers day, or fathers day?

or birthdays.

now that was one you took extremely seriously. that was one you’d understand if satoru threw a tantrum over forgetting something as important as the day commemorating the year the world turned upside down by the birth of satoru gojo himself (it would have been nice if you were given a warning — putting up with him was forced labour, you firmly believe that you deserve to be paid).

and getting a gift for satoru was easy as pie. the man was so full of sunshines and daisies that he accepted nearly everything. it came to a point where you’d been under the impression that he was simply pretending for your sake, that you tried giving him one of nanami’s weird old pointed shoes during his 17th. needless to say, he was not pretending to like your gifts, and that was proven very well when the strongest sorcerer in the world held up the pair in one large hand, teary eyed with his lips wobbling.

drama queen, you thought in your head.

this year, you had much planned: the dinner table where you usually forbid a number of more than four candies or sweets were now filled with enough to diagnose him with diabetes and at least twenty cavities.

that was not all.

sometime last month, satoru had bought a pretty, blue dress for tsumiki (no special occasion, it was ‘speaking’ to him, apparently — his words, not yours) but it ended up being a size too small. you, wisely, suggested returning it, but the idiot came up with something… unique.

“just let megumi wear it!” he’d said with a giant grin.

megumi did not take that too well. despite the fact that you were already on his side, scolding satoru for constantly teasing the innocent boy, megumi had run back into your shared bedroom and returned with one of your own pretty blue dresses.

satoru looked down at him, his opaque, round glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose to reveal his scarily-blue eyes.

“oh?” he’d said, brows raised. “i mean i see why you’d want to wear that one, but —"

“i don’t want to wear it, creep,” snapped megumi, dropping the dress at satoru’s feet. the height difference was comical, megumi barely reached higher than the snow-haired man’s knee. “it’s for you.”

your eyes narrowed.

“now wait just a minute —”

“i’ll wear tsumiki’s dress the day you wear that one,” scoffed megumi, who knew very well that satoru would never stoop that low. he did not wait for another response before walking away.

you and satoru watched him leave; you looked at satoru, who shrugged at you, and before either of you could blink, megumi was at satoru’s knees again.

“wha—”

kick!

“ow!”

the dark haired kid ran off without a word, leaving satoru to rub at his knee with his glasses askew on his face.

“the kid can seriously kick, huh?” he grunted, bouncing on the heels of his feet as you had approached him with a scowl.

“that’s what you get for even saying such a stupid thing,” you told him as you pinched his arm to stop him from bouncing around. his face came to level with yours and you took the opportunity to fix his glasses before flicking him on the forehead. “put my dress away.”

satoru grinned at you.

“i’ll skin you alive if i see you in that.”

“i paid for it.”

“and you’ll do that again if you wear it.”

so that brought you to the present day, where you found yourself actually pleading with megumi to… wear the dress.

“no,” he said, glaring at you (a rare sight, because despite your obvious similarities in humour with satoru, megumi still preferred to side with you in every situation). “it’s ugly.”

“you didn’t say it was ugly when tsumiki said she liked it.”

“tsumiki’s —” started megumi, looking at you as if you’d grown three different heads. “tsumiki’s a girl! why is — what’s wrong with you people?”

“it’ll look funny!”

“exactly.”

“he’ll be here in a couple of minutes, megumi. just for a minute… please?” you reasoned, hands clasped in pleading. “i want to make sure his birthday is perfect.”

“at my expense.”

you stared at him. “why does a kid like you even know those words?”

tsumiki had walked in the room by that point, a party hat sitting on top of the braids you had expertly done for her that morning.

“he reads non-fiction books,” she answered your question easily, placing her own wrapped gift on the table with very little room due to the pastries and goodies.

“of course,” you sighed. “because that’s so normal for a seven year old kid. you know, forget the dress. want me to take you to a doctor instead?”

“you’re not normal either,” megumi shot back grumpily.

“i am!” you argued back, unaware of the fact that satoru was now in the process of unlocking the door. “aren’t i, tsumiki?”

the girl, though hesitant, nodded enthusiastically. you’ll take it.

“see, megumi? i’m norm— what are you staring at?”

megumi’s face had paled, his pupils growing smaller and smaller with whatever view behind you he was met with. your eyes darted to tsumiki, who also looked visibly shocked, but you knew her well enough to analyse the fact that she also looked very… amused.

what was so amusing?

“I’M HOOOOME!” sang satoru, his voice smooth as silk and loud as though he’d spoken through a megaphone.

but satoru wasn’t that shocking. satoru was just satoru. satoru was…

you turned around.

satoru was wearing a dress.

your dress.

the one you’d forbidden him from touching.

the one you’d explicitly threatened him with.

the one he knew was off-limits.

the one he had now stretched and ripped due to his broad shoulders, his muscular frame, his tall body.

satoru seemed blissfully unaware of the issue at hand, pouting as his blue eyes darted from you, to megumi, to tsumiki.

“what, no birthday songs? you know i love your singing, y/n —”

“is infinity on?” you asked slowly, voice shaky with frustration.

satoru blinked.

“huh?”

“is. infinity. on.”

“i mean — yeah — but —”

“okay,” you smiled, walking over to the table and presenting all the treats you’d bought for him. you picked up a cinnamon roll with your bare hands, ignoring the way the sugary icing was now dripping down your skin.

“oh! those for me? i knew you’d come through! remember that shoe you gave me back when —”

splatter!

it was a good thing you were known for hitting your targets every time: satoru’s — your — dress was now tainted with the mess only a delicious cinnamon roll could cause. it dropped to the floor after sliding down his front for a good five seconds as you, him, and the kids watched with interest.

he stared at the wasted treat, mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the disaster. he looked back up again, ready to protest when he found you holding another one of his treats: it was kikufuku — edamame and cream flavour, also known as, satoru gojo’s favourite.

“hey, wait —”

smack!

square on the nose. target hit. mission… accomplished? no, not quite yet. that was not enough compensation for your previously, well-crafted, beloved dress.

the idiot tried catching it, only for it to slip between his unnecessarily long fingers and fall sadly onto the wooden floor.

“no!” he shouted dramatically, voice cracking with despair. “that was —”

“your favourite?” you finished off, head tilted mockingly. “i know. that was my dress.”

satoru shook his head vigorously; it would have made you laugh if not for the fact that the dress he was wearing belonged to you.

“it still is!” he stated desperately.

“it’s not even a dress anymore you stupid man-child!”

“i know it looks a little… weird —”

“just weird?”

“and… a little ripped —"

“a little?”

“but it’s still yo— put my kikufuku down right now!”

the next five minutes had been an unpleasant sight for all: you were trying to get him out of your ruined dress, he was trying to get his favourite treat out of your hand, not to be tragically wasted like the previous one. tsumiki had made one or two attempts to calm all the tension down, but megumi had hissed at her to stop interfering.

tsumiki knew it was because if the arguing had been an issue of the past, megumi and his claim that if satoru wore your dress then he’d wear tsumiki’s small one, would be an issue of the present.

satoru, with his arms wrapped around your body (somehow) to prevent you from grabbing another one of his goodies, looked over his shoulder to send a menacing glare to megumi.

“you’re not off the hook either, mister,” he said loudly, “get the dress on.”

you pushed satoru off of you with an impressive amount of strength seeing as he practically towered over you and bested you in physical strength any day.

“no, forget it megumi. he doesn’t deserve to see you in a dre—”

the rest of your sentence had been muffled by satoru’s large hand slapping over your mouth, making you stumble back in surprise and anger.

“ignore her megumi, put the damn dress on.”

you pulled at his already-dishevelled hair sharply. he bit back a high-pitched scream his inner girl had wanted to release.

“he doesn’t want to anyway, he’s not gonna listen to you!”

satoru tried pushing you with his chest away from the dinner table so it would be easier to hold you back. he’d decided that you wouldn’t give up on this, therefore creating some space between you and his beloved sugary treats would be ideal in this scenario.

“oi, i did what the little brat wanted me to do,” he hissed with fury. his hands closed around your wrist, he looked over his shoulder at megumi again. “and i feel like shit right now —”

“— no swearing in front of the kids —”

“— i feel like poop right now,” satoru obediently corrected himself without looking back at you. “now do your dad a favour and put the dress on —”

megumi gave him a look of disgust and did not hesitate to share his thoughts.

“ew you’re not my dad.”

and sometimes you genuinely believe that satoru has some mild form of adhd, for his attention diverted quickly from his physical battle with you to the random one picked up by megumi.

“what the hell?”

but it still seemed as though one side of his brain was still working, he hadn’t let go of your wrists just yet.

“oh my god,” you sighed, looking over at tsumiki as though she could help you in any way: the young girl shrugged, fiddling with the little bands that went round her face in order to keep her party hat in place.

“pause, this is getting really serious right now and i don’t like it,” said satoru, and then quickly turned his head to face you with a glare. “not that you wasting my food isn’t serious.”

you struggled with his iron-tight grip on your wrists.

“i paid for all of that,” you reminded him charmingly.

“and i paid for this dress.”

“and you also wrecked it,” you snapped, eyeing what once used to be your beautiful blue dress that now looked like something you’d seen peasants wear in a movie.

“i’ll buy you a closet full of dresses if that’s what you want!” satoru argued back.

“i don’t want a closet full of dresses,” you retorted, and then paused, looking up thoughtfully. “but i’ll hold you to that.”

satoru blinked at you, confused; you shook your head and focused.

“i want that dress!” you demanded angrily, the battle continuing despite yourself. “and you didn’t heed my warning, so your kikufuku and everything else i bought you gets it.”

“you’re evil —”

“and you look like a fool!”

satoru did not deny that, so with his eyes still trained on you, narrowing them slowly, he exhaled through his nose.

“megumi, i won’t ask again. wear the dress.”

before you could go for the dinner table again, satoru ducked and lifted you by your waist, using his long legs to make large strides towards the couch. you protested, your hands had instinctively held onto his shoulders, and without them, you could not fight back. you opted to dig your nails into him instead — he hissed but made no complaints as he continued to quickly jog you over to the couch.

“megumi!” you called out loudly: the boy still remained where you had last spoken to him, by the chairs of the table with a party hat he’d been fiddling with beneath his chin. “don’t —”

you were interrupted by your own gasp when your back harshly met the soft cushions of the couch. you did not have to focus that hard to hear megumi’s quiet ‘wasn’t planning on it’.

“one down, another to go!” cheered satoru, way too joyful for your liking.

your gaze hardened, taking a cushion and dashing it at the back of his head with as much force as you could gather. of course, you never missed, but it did little to stop satoru from approaching megumi (other than the offended look he sent you in that ridiculous dress you tried so hard not to laugh at).

megumi remained stagnant, his glare hardening with each step satoru took to get closer to him.

“clown,” muttered megumi, jumping off of the chair he’d been sitting on and running to his room.

“oh, good plan!” satoru called after him with a smile. “you go and get the dress and i’ll stay and wait here!”

tsumiki coughed nervously. “erm — i don’t think he’s going to get th—”

she cut herself off when she saw you get back up and charge towards satoru. he turned around a second too late, you’d pushed him back and grabbed a handful of random pastries and sweets, throwing them at him without another thought.

“you’re gonna have to use hollow purple to stop me,” you said over his shouts of protests.

“jokes — jokes on — oh my god, no! — jokes on you, i — stop! — could just use infinity!”

“what’s the point? the food gets wasted anyway, genius.”

the food war (and physical battle, when satoru had decided that enough was enough and the only way to pacify you was to beat you in a clash of strength) had gone on for at least another ten minutes. you were growing exhausted, but satoru? satoru, that monster, was still fighting you as if your attacks were nothing.

stamina now seemed like water on a dry desert for you.

but you refused to give up.

“i can see your nipple, you pervert, ew!” you shouted from underneath him.

it was an odd mix of your limbs. you were trying to flip him over but the stretch his body when you twisted his torso somehow only caused the fabric across his chest to tear, revealing one of his nipples.

“you see it every night,” satoru shot back with a grin.

you wanted to slap the smug look on his face badly.

“that’s why i tell you to stop sleeping shirtless every night —”

“why are you complaining? any other woman would be glad to —”

“what are you guys doing?” tsumiki’s soft voice interrupted you like the smooth spread of butter on toast.

the two of you looked up; your jaws dropped.

tsumiki had taken the time that you guys spent fighting to change out of her simple, regular dress and put on one of the new ones satoru had bought for her sometime last week. it was a similar shade to the blue he’d wanted megumi to wear (for some odd reason, the weirdo?) but was definitely much more flattering. much, much more prettier.

and it was her size.

“get off of me, you —"

“— no swearing —"

“you woman fetishise-r —”

“what’s that?” asked tsumiki, as you both got to your feet and dusted yourselves off.

“yeah, what’s that, y/n?” satoru cheekily repeated, staring at you as if he needed the answer or he’d die a sad and painful death.

“it’s —” you began sharply, trying not to kill him with your death stare before looking back at tsumiki with a smile, “it’s not important. the real question is: what’s that?”

“…it’s a dress,” said satoru unhelpfully. he was looking at you as if you had discovered new learning difficulties.

“another peep out of you and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” you threatened him quietly.

you did not need to look at him to know that he was pouting like a kicked puppy. at least he was mute, but not for long, it seemed.

“you’d do that to me on my birthda—”

“i’ve done a lot to you today, don’t push it,” you said, still eyeing tsumiki’s dress with obvious amazement and interest. you approached her, bending down to her height and tucking back some of the flyaways on her head. “it makes you look like a princess —”

“and it stopped you guys from fighting,” she smiled… like a princess.

satoru glared down at you, well aware that you could not see him.

“yeah i’m still not done with her —”

“i’ll make you sit in the naughty chair, gojo,” you said menacingly.

he wanted to let out a long, exaggerated sigh, but the sound of tsumiki laughing at your… mutual banter (?) had drawn his attention away from your backside to her and her new dress.

“ah,” sighed satoru, rubbing the back of his neck, “still wanted to see megumi in a dress.”

“can it, gojo.”

“i did!” he responded, sounding like a child getting scolded by their mother. he looked down at tsumiki and brushed her party hat aside to ruffle her hair (though not enough to mess her neat braids up). “i mean — you look so pretty with it on, i just wore this stupid dress for nothing now.”

“mhm,” you nodded, rising to your full height to raise a brow at him.

he shrugged, picking up an unwrapped lindor bar from the table. “can i at least get a picture of myself?”

“no,” you rolled your eyes. “your entire thought about putting megumi in a dress was just plain dumb, satoru.”

tsumiki blinked up at you. “but you spent all day trying to get megumi to agree to —”

your eye twitched as you felt satoru’s amused and interested stare directed at your cheek. you refused to look back at him.

you loved tsumiki, you really did. but just like any other kid, she had a tendency of speaking about something when it was very clear that it was simply not required. in other words, she spoke to make matters worse for you — unknowingly, of course. it stung a little more seeing as being proven wrong against the smug bastard that is satoru gojo is enough to make you want to jump into a big, black hole and never return again.

the idiot was just that cocky.

“a dumb idea, huh?” you heard him say.

you closed your eyes, as though they were the source of your hearing.

“mhm…” you hummed, irritated.

“that so?” said satoru, and when you did not respond, he took it as an opportunity to go on, and on, and on.

“aw, you did that for me?”

“just for me?”

“and she spent all day doing that, did she?”

“of course she did, look at all those treats for me!”

“i mean — not out of the ordinary for her to be bugging megumi but for me?”

“you know what?” you interrupted him loudly. you faced him with a frown. “i want a divorce!”

satoru stared down at you, glanced at tsumiki, before blinking down at you again. he raised his snow-white brow at you, acting as though you’d said something that deserved ten years in jail.

“we’re not even married!”

“and whose fucking fault is that?”

“language!”

“happy birthday!” you stated angrily, reaching up and kissing him on his cheek before storming out of the room, unaware of the dazed look he sent after you, unaware of the pink dusting his cheeks, unaware of the dreamy sigh he let out when the door slammed loud enough to shake the rest of the house.

soon, that argument could never be used against him, especially not by you.

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Hiii could you some breeding smut with prince consort aemond of drone with his wife ? Like they already have kids but he just can’t get enough of his ruler of dorne.😅

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Aemond x Wife!reader

summary: breeding smut with prince consort Aemond of Dorne with his wife ? Like they already have kids but he just can’t get enough of his ruler of Dorne.

Word count: 1,9K

Warnings: Fluff, smut, breeding kink

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

You felt hot, way too hot, naturally in Dorne it was hot all the time but today it was exceptionally hot. You groaned trying to roll over in your bed to find a colder spot but was held back by someone. You cracked your eyes open to be met with the blazing sun of Dorne. You looked over your shoulder to find your husband sound asleep, is white-blonde hair around his head on the pillow and he was holding your tightly against his chest.

"Aemond" You tried pulling away from him but he only held you tightly. A sheer layer of sweat had covered the both of you throughout the night.

"Stop moving" Aemond whined with his morning voice. You sighed when you felt something hard rub against your thigh from below. Yet Aemond made no move to do anything except hold you.

"You seem to facing some trouble, husband" You teased flexing your thigh against his hard cock. Aemond groaned opening his eye to glare at you. His eyepatch long gone and the sapphire shinned under the sunlight.

"Stop that" He ordered. He pulled away from you laying on his back. The sun made his sweaty skin shimmer lightly. You turned to face him and placed a hand on his chest, he was much tanner now than when he first moved here to Dorne. It was not as smooth as it was now, he was cold and calculated shocked by the freedom you had in here. He scrunched his face in disgust at the fact that your father the prince will give you his position instead of your younger brother because you were older. However now after many years of marriage and several children and your father's passing he accepted your traditions and ways of life, he beamed with glee at the fact that your daughter Viselora will inherit the title princess after you.

"Let me help you" You whispered in his ear. You let your fingers run down his chest and laid it flat over his hard length. Aemond whined desperately rolling his hips to get some type of friction.

"The power you have over me woman" He groaned grabbing your hand to roll you over him to the other side of the bed climbing on top of you. You giggled wrapping your arms around him.

"How come you still look so beautiful even after four children?" he asked lips brushing against the skin below your chin. Small moans and heavy breaths escaped your lips as he began mouthing at the sweaty skin. He licked at the salty sweat not caring but instead loving it now that he grew used to it.

"What can I Ah- say the gods love me" You moaned. One of his hands trailed over to your breast giving it a small squeeze. He tweaked your nipple over the fabric of your very-very thin nightgown that was see through. His lips moved down to cover your other nipple, licking, bitting and sucking on it.

"Aemond-" You head fell back onto the pillows. He gave a harsh suck to your nipple imagining them filled with milk again. It has been two years since your last child was born, your only son named Rhaekar.

"I love you more" He raised his head up to look at you. He looked much healthier now than he did when he first arrived, his fave glowed and he no longer looked solemn and ready to murder someone at any given moment, he smiled more and he showed his softer side more.

"I know" You ran a hand through his hair. His eyes watched you reaction as he ran a hand up your though touching your hole softly. You huffed rolling your hips down. He always found a way to make you feel wet without even touching you.

"I wish to fuck a new babe into you" he admit moving to lean his forehead onto yours. His finger pushed inside smirking at the lack of a small cloth, you were used to his sexual appetite and have not worn underwear to bed for the majority of your marriage.

"What are you waiting for?" You asked teasingly. One hand into his hair and the other around his shoulder pressed him down claiming his lips with yours hungrily. He kissed you as if you water and he was a thirsty man who have been walking in the unforgiving dessert for the past at least decade.

"Fuck! You're so beautiful" He cursed pulling back to look at you. His hands scrambled to pull your night gown off and threw it somewhere in the room. His breeches followed your night gown, you knew the maids would know what you two did once they came to clean but you did not care, you never did.

"You are handsome as well, my prince, Prince Aemond of Westeros and Dorne" You ran a hand through his hair, it was untied as usual in bed an framed his face making it look almost like a mane around his head or a curtain shielding him from the world except you.

"The most handsome man in this world" You wrapped an arm around his shoulders pulling him closer. Aemond groaned leaning his head down to press desperate kisses to your throat.

"You have the tongue of a snake, my love" He jested against your ear. One of his hands moved down grabbing at his cock pumping it slowly making sure it was as hard as possible, only the best for his devoted wife.

"Only for you, husband" You whispered in his ear, tongue sooting out to lick a strip behind his ear making him shudder. Aemond let the tip of his cock run over the folds of your hole. You sighed in content rolling your hips up to meet his flesh.

"You surprise me, wife" He pushed himself inside of you. You mewled holding onto him tightly. His has always been too big for you. His lips mouthed at your neck slowly creeping down to the top of your breasts.

"Why so?-ah Aemond" You questioned. He rocked back and forth slowly trying not hurt you. One of your hands racked down his back as a punishment for making you wait for him to fuck you like you wanted, like you deserved.

"You could have a hundred lovers yet you chose to cum only on my cock" He answered. He pulled back to look down at your face. Your face grew red from anger at his words. You pushed him on his back much to his surprise making him yelp. You climbed on his lap literally shoving him inside of your tight pussy. He cried out holding onto your thighs in a deathly grip.

"Your cock is the only one I want in my orvorta" Private part/Pussy. His eye rolled back as you bounced up and down with no mercy on his cock. The sound of High Valyrian rolled off your tongue like a prayer, his lessons where not going in vain.

"My love-ah" Aemond was usually quiet in bed but right now at the sight of you on top of him, riding him like the dragon he was had him like a squirming teenager.

"Se mērī orvorta jaelan iemnȳ yno iksis aōhon, se mērī nūmo jaelan naejot plant iā riña iemnȳ yno iksis aōhon se daor else" The only cock I want inside of me is yours, the only seed I want to plant a child inside of me is yours and no else. Your hands ran up his chest feeling every muscle flex under your hands. Sweat doubled in amount on his skin making you want to lean down and lick it off him, you were twisted like that. Aemond's eye snapped open in shock when one of your hands wrapped around his long delicate neck.

"Gaomagon ao shifang?" Do you understand? You asked. He nodded whimpering below you. You leaned down claiming his lips and giving him space to move his hips against yours. he wrapped an arm around your waist holding up and jackhammered inside of you feeling his peak approach.

"Kessa qogralbar nyke hae se zaldrīzes iksā" Yes fuck me like the dragon you are. You cried in his ear. His cock filled you so good, it made you want to tear at your own flesh from how good it felt. You leaned your head between his neck and shoulder biting down on the flesh but Aemond did not care anymore.

"Iksan jāre naejot tepagon ao another riña" I'm going to give you another child. Aemond promised in the shell of your ear. He rutted inside of you like there was no tomorrow, like he will die soon and won't be getting to fuck your cunt anymore.

"I an feel you tightening around my cock, my love, are you close?" His voice sounded husky as he whispered in your ear. You nodded your head letting go of the flesh. Your eyes sparkled with pride at the red mark left behind and stuck your tongue out licking on the abused skin.

"Fuck, so good for me, princess" He moaned rolling you over. Your eyes met his the second your back was on the mattress again. His hand both of his hands beside your head hammering inside of you like there was no tomorrow. Your insides were twisting almost as if they were trying to make room for his cock inside of you.

"Aemond!" Your head fell back on the pillows eyes not daring to move away from his singular one and the sapphire, it looked like it was gleaming with pride, withe emotions. Your legs wrapped his waist locking just above his bottom pulling him closer if that were possible.

"So close" You heaved. Aemond smirked moving one of his hands between your sweaty bodies. You felt like your were crashing the second his pointer finger touched your clit. Your mouth fell open with a loud cry, one that you would hear in a brothel usually faked by one of the workers trying to get her costumers to cum but yours was anything but fake, it was real and the evidence was the wetness that coated the bed and Aemond's cock.

"So tight" The veins on Aemond's neck looked like they were on the verge of popping, his hips only stuttering when you squeezed him so tight, he was unable to move. You ran a hand through his hair and the other down his back letting some moans leave your lips at the overstimulation, you were trying to get him to peak faster.

"So good for me" He praised stilling inside of you balls deep letting his seed seep inside of your womb.

"You were so good for me as well, my Aemond" His heart soared at the nickname. He claimed your lips in a heated kiss as he pulled out of your cunt swallowing your gasps of shock. He pulled back only to watch as his seed seeped out of you. He ran the tip of his soft cock over the mess pushing it back inside of you and let his cock settle there.

"I love you" You moaned squeezing around him. He let his weight crush you but in a painful way. His head rested in between your neck and shoulder, arms laying on each side of you while he rested atop of you.

"I love you too" He whispered. You peppered kiss on his shoulder and neck, over any freckle you could find, peppering him with love and saliva the same.

"So much" He whimpered rutting his hardening cock inside of you. Aemond was determined to get you with child again. To show who you belonged to, who owned your body and heart. And you accepted with an open heart, open arms and legs and a weeping cunt, only for him.

[prettyyoungandbored]

See You Again - Charlie Dalton

Pairing: Adult!Charlie Dalton x Fem!Pregnant!Reader

NOT MY GIF

“What do you want for dinner tonight?” Charlie asked, rubbing his wife’s back.

“Everything that is terrible for me,” she replied with a tired sigh, putting one hand on her belly. “Probably a bad idea bringing me into the grocery store.”

“We’re almost done with the list,” he told her. “Besides, we’ll be here for a week. We can always come back if you need other stuff.”

They decided to spend the week at his parent’s vacation home in Vermont. Y/N had been itching to get away from the city but considering she was four months pregnant, Charlie didn’t feel like going too far.

“How about we do some roast chicken thighs tonight?” she suggested. “It’s easy enough.“

“Perfect.” He kissed her cheek.

“Ok, so for that we’ll need some chicken thighs, rosemary-.”

“Charlie?”

Charlie looked away from Y/N, his smile falling. His blood ran cold at the figure standing in front of him.

Mr. Perry.

The last he saw Neil’s father was at Neil’s funeral. That was a little over 10 years ago, yet the man hadn’t aged all that much.

In all the times Charlie’s returned to Vermont since being kicked out of Welton, he managed to avoid seeing the Perry’s. There was the scare when his mother invited them to his and Y/N’s wedding, but they never responded nor showed up.

Y/N’s shifted from Charlie and the old man, wondering if she should stay behind Charlie and protect their baby.

“Mr. Perry,” Charlie spoke up, trying to swallow the lump in the throat.

Y/N’s eyes widened in realization and she wondered if she should step in for Charlie’s sake.

Meanwhile, Charlie saw Mr. Perry’s eyes fall to Y/N’s stomach. Charlie tightened his jaw, fists clenched.

“Congratulations…son,” the old man said with a nod.

Once the old man turned away, Y/N sighed in relief. “Let’s just pay and go, ok?”

Charlie wasn’t going to argue.

==================================

Following by a silent car ride home, Y/N spoke up the moment they walked inside the vacation home.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we’re going to,” she said.

“Honey-.”

“Non-negotiable, Charlie.”

His jaw tightened. “Fine. Alright. He has no right to show his face to me. Not after what he did. And the way he looked at your stomach…like…who am I to be a father, right? Like he…he…”

“Charlie-.”

“Neil should be here, dammit! He should be here and the fact his asshole of father is still walking around after what he did! After what he caused!”

Tears streamed violently down his face. Y/N reached out to him, but he stepped back. He turned around and walked outside, slamming the door.

Y/N exhaled softly, guilty tears filling her eyes. She just wanted to talk with him about it, but she knew she should have known better.

As she sat down on the couch, she pretended to ignore the sound of the car driving off.

==============================

Charlie closed the car door and made his way up the hill, hands buried in his jacket pocket. He walked across the cemetery, glancing at the names until he saw the one he needed to see.

And then he spotted it, his heart dropping to his stomach.

NEIL ROBERT PERRY

NOVEMBER 10, 1943 - DECEMBER 15, 1959.

He’d avoided coming here long enough. He’d sworn after the funeral he wouldn’t go here, already traumatized by the fact his best friend was in a casket.

Hot tears strolled down his face, as he lowered his head.

“I’m sorry I haven’t come out here,” he spoke up. “I would say it’s not for a lack of trying, but…”

He shook his head. “You know, I never forgave myself for not stopping your dad. I thought if maybe I intervened or actually did something, I could’ve…you know. I promised myself that next time I’d see him, I’d give him a piece of mind. Tell him what I should’ve told him at the funeral. Yet the second I see the son of a bitch in the grocery store, I choke.”

He lowered his head, a tear rolling down his cheek and hitting the headstone.

“I’m gonna be a dad, Neil,” he continued. “How can I protect my kid when I couldn’t protect you?”

The silence that fell was a reminder that Neil could not respond. He couldn’t tell Charlie what he needed to hear. He couldn’t tell him that things would be ok.

And he never would.

Charlie wiped his tears and sniffled. “I miss you, Neil.”

===================================

When Charlie returned to the house, he hung his jacket and slid off his shoes. Figuring Y/N was probably asleep, he quietly made his way up the stairs into the master bedroom.

There, he found Y/N lying awake in bed, the soft glow from the television reflecting on her.

She propped herself up when she saw him walk in. “Charlie, I’m sorry I-.”

“No, no don’t apologize,” he said, crawling into bed beside her. “I’m sorry I screamed and ran off like that.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s ok. You were shaken up and I-.”

“No, Y/N, it’s not ok. There’s no justification for it.” He grabbed her hand, kissing her open palm. “I’m sorry and I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Y/N went to turn off the TV when Charlie asked, “Can we keep it on a bit longer?”

“Of course.”

She snuggled into him, as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

Not a moment passed by when Y/N broke the silence and returned to the subject. “Where did you go?”

Charlie sighed, wishing to avoid it but knowing he needed to face it one way or another.

“I went to Neil’s grave,” he answered.

She straightened up her posture, mouth hung open slightly. “You actually went?”

“I didn’t really know where else to go. Plus, I figured it was time.”

He wanted to end the conversation there, but she had that look he knew all too well. It was the kind of look that begged him to keep talking about it.

“It was strange,” he continued. “The idea of talking at a headstone, knowing that’s the only way I can talk to him.”

His eyes fell to her stomach. “You know what kills me the most? The way Mr. Perry looked at me after he saw your stomach, like I had the audacity to become a father.”

“He knows you’ll be better than he was and that’s what kills him,” she said.

He glanced back up at her. “You think so?”

“The fact you’re opening up about it means you care enough not to repeat the mistakes you’ve seen others make,” she said. “I know you’ll be a better father than Mr. Perry and your dad ever was.”

His hand met her stomach. She placed a hand over his.

“I promise I’m gonna do my best,” he said.

He used his other hand to take a strand of Y/N’s hair, tucking it behind her ears. “I’m sorry I yelled and walked out on you. You never deserved that.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you to talk about it. I should’ve let you had a moment to process it.”

“You were trying to help.”

“I could’ve gone about it better though.”

“How about we leave it at we’re both sorry and we focus on enjoying each other’s company during the trip?” he suggested gently.

She smiled in agreement. “Works for me.”

[ourfleur]

「Alone Together」　[Ada Wong x Fem Reader]

Summary: You were just supposed to retrieve the weapon, thats all. But when a woman from your past makes an appearance you can’t get your mind off of her.

Tags: ada wong x fem reader, angst, hurt/comfort, (mild?) smut, making out, ahhhhhh

An: Hii okay so I dont know how much I like this but yknow its whatever, i love ada tho so!!

follow my ao3

“Drop your weapon.” Your chilling voice rang out behind her. “I’m not fucking joking Ada. Drop your weapon.” She turned her head back to you, dropping her gun to the floor. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was cold and distant, as you pointed your pistol at Ada’s head. “Same as you I assume, we both have jobs to do, don’t we?” She said, eyes narrowing at the girl holding her at gun-point. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you right now for what you did to me.” You snarled. Ada stared at you silently, the quiet seeming to last forever, before familiar footsteps echoed from behind the door. ‘Shit’ you thought to yourself, the thing chasing you was here now. Your eyes darted over to the door, then back to Ada. “Don’t ever let me see you again.” Uttering one last thing before making your exit.

The moment you left your heart started aching at seeing the woman. Four years of having pure hatred for her dissolved the moment she was back in front of you. Every second you looked at her it became harder to keep yourself composed, only wanting to grab her and never let her go. And now that she was gone again all you wanted to do was run back to her. You sighed, pushing away your foolish thoughts and moving on with your mission.

You had been sent to France to retrieve a weapon of mass destruction, to make sure that it didn’t get into the wrong hands. This was an extremely important mission and you couldn’t risk and mistakes, it was already enough that there was this whole insane cult running the whole place but the fact your former partner, the partner who you had shared your deepest secrets, the partner who you had grown to love in ways that you couldn’t describe, the partner who had double crossed you, was there, working against you.

You made your way to a stronghold that you were told had information on locating the weapon, avoiding all of the cult members and obstacles. You carefully made your way into the large building, taking extra care to not be spotted. Once you were inside you couldn’t shake the feeling you were being watched. Eyes scanning any place someone could be hiding, but nothing. Making your way through the rooms and halls, you felt like you were losing your mind, everywhere you looked you swore you could see Ada. That dark red fabric appearing in the corner of your eye every time you turned your head. You cursed at yourself mentally, angered that you couldn’t stop thinking about her. You needed to focus, the mission depended on it. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself at the thought of Ada.

Finally you arrived in the right place, a computer lab. You looked all over for the right computer, finding it hidden away in a corner. You inspected the files on it for a bit till the right one finally crossed your eye. The only way to get to the weapon was through a locked door, only accessible with a keycard. To your luck, the keycard was only a short bit away, in the next building over. You let out a sigh of relief, soon your mission would be over and you could go home and not have to think about anything, especially the woman in red.

You ran out of the room, jogging down a long corridor that led to a large open room. Before you could reach the door though, you were grabbed and thrown to the floor brutally. Shocked, you turned around to see the thing that was chasing you finally caught up. You drew your gun, shooting it as much as you could. It flew towards you and before you could even react, it was on top of you. Its claws wrapping around your neck as it pushed you deeper into the ground. You tried and tried to pry it off of you but nothing was working. Your grip loosened as you faded in and out of consciousness. Your vision started to fade to black, your body growing limp as it started to accept its fate.

A muffled voice called your name, even with your blurry faded vision you could still see the familiar red fabric. “Ada..?” you choked out. You could feel the beast on top of you get up to attack the new threat that faced it. You tried to get your bearings, taking in a deep breath, air filling your lungs. You attempted to stand before collapsing, you could barely keep your eyes open. Before you could entirely lose consciousness you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around you. Ada pulled you up, keeping you stable as she walked you away from the scene that had just played out. “Hold on tight, okay?” You didn’t even have the energy to respond, only being able to meekly nod while you mustered all your strength to hold onto her waist.

Ada used her grappling hook to pull the both of you away. The two of you landed at the entrance to a different building. Ada pulled you into the room, holding you as tight as she could. She saw a couch and brought you to it, gently laying you down on it. Ada pulled away, looking down at your broken body and then back to the door. Ada turned to the door, giving you one last look before making her exit. But before she could, your hand shot to hers. Ada turned back to you, your tired eyes giving her a look of pain and desperation. You couldn’t pretend to hate her anymore and you couldn’t let her slip away from you again. “Please Ada… stay.” Her eyes softened, looking at the door again and then back to you. Ada let out a breath before moving back towards you. You tried to sit up but cried out in pain the moment you moved your body.

“I bet I look pretty pathetic right now.” Your tone both playful and full of pain. Ada chuckled, “Yeah, you do.” She said with a small smile. You laughed at Adas response, immediately regretting it afterwards when you felt a sharp pain in your side. You looked down to see a large thorn stuck in your side, blood soaking the fabric that surrounded your wound, you didn’t even notice. Adas eyes moved down to where yours were looking and widened when she saw the object, stuck deeply in your side. Your name left Adas' lips in a panic as she frantically searched the room you were in for any medical supplies. She opened drawer after drawer in the room that looked to be a lounge once you actually paid attention to your surroundings. You heard Ada shuffling around and then a relieved noise leave her mouth.

Ada came back to you, crouching down on the ground next to your wound. Her delicate hands wrapped around the thorn. “Are you ready?” She looked up at you for confirmation that she could pull it out. You nodded, moving your hand down to hold her free hand. As your fingers entwined she began to pull on the thing stuck in your side. You screamed in pain as it was torn out of you, blood now gushing freely from your open wound. Ada immediately grabbed some gauze she found, releasing her hand from yours to lift your back slightly off the couch so she could wrap the gauze around your wound. Ada stood back up, grabbing your hand to pull you into a sitting position. You groaned as she sat you up, the pain in your side still excruciating.

Ada sat down behind you, grabbing some of the leftover gauze. “Your back is pretty scrapped up too..” Adas fingers traced over the wounds she could see through your torn shirt. Your breath hitched as she moved down to lift your shirt. “A-Ada what are you doing..?” Your words coming out stuttered. “Helping. I am helping.” Your name left her tongue with a tinge of annoyance, almost to say ‘Just let me do this for you.’ You exhaled, muttering a small ‘okay’. Her fingers grabbing the hem of your tight shirt, pulling it up. “Raise your arms.” She said, her breath on your neck leaving goosebumps. You brought your arms up as much as you could, pained groans leaving your lips.

Ada pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in your bra and revealing your tattered back. There were cuts and bruises speckled all over you. Ada took off her gloves, setting them to the side. She took her hand and slowly caressed your wounds with her fingers. You hissed at the feeling, your cuts stinging every time they were touched. Ada took in a breath, reminding herself of what she was doing and what was in front of her. Ada removed her hands from your back. You could hear her rustling around a bit behind you but were unsure of what she was doing until you felt a cold, wet cloth rub against your back. The more you thought about it, the more insane this situation became and the more the silence between the two of you became agonising. You sensed Ada felt the same but before you could say anything, she beat you to it.

“You need to be more careful.” She sounded exasperated, stern, the way a mother sounds when lecturing their child. You snorted, “You sound just like my mom.” Finding amusement in Adas worry. “If I wasn’t there you would’ve died, and I still haven’t gotten a thank you.” She smiled slightly, as did you. “Fine, fine. Thank you, Ada… for saving me.” You could feel Adas content with your gratitude and another silence fell over the two of you.

After a little bit longer of Ada tending to the wounds on your back, she set down the rag. “There.” You could feel her lifting her body off of the couch and your body reacted before your mind. You turned around and pulled her back down. Her eyes went wide for a second as she was forced back onto the sofa. “Ada. I can’t do this.” Your voice cracked as you spoke. “Wha-”, “I can’t let you leave again.” You didn’t even mean to say these things but once you started you couldn’t stop. “I hated you for so long for betraying me. I thought about it every single day, I thought about you every single day.” Voice shaky as you relayed your feelings to the woman. “For months after you betrayed me I thought I saw you everywhere, I mean fuck, I hoped I did.” All Ada could do was just stare at the girl in front of her. “I mean, I don’t know… I thought I hated you, I wanted to see you and take everything out on you.” You felt tears prick your eyes as you continued. “I kept thinking about the things we did together, the person you helped me become when we worked together and the person I became after. I know it was probably all an act but… I can’t do this Ada.” You looked into Ada's dark eyes, you could see something in them but you weren’t quite sure what. “Ada please… please stay this time.” Your eyes were desperate, you were pleading for this woman to stay.

Your teary eyes stared into Ada’s stoic face, searching for any amount of feeling. You looked down at your legs, trying to hold back the sea of tears threatening to escape your already watery eyes. Suddenly, your face was pushed upwards. Ada's hand on your chin, she pulled you to meet her lips. You immediately melted into Ada's gentle touch, her free hand moving to the back of your head. The kiss was soft, almost shy, both of you unsure about what you were doing. Reluctantly you moved your arms to wrap around Adas waist. As the kiss went on for longer you became more comfortable, your kiss turning into something more passionate and desperate. Adas tongue gliding across your lips, requesting entrance, to which you obliged. As Ada explored you mouth, you explored her body, your hands running wild as they roamed Ada’s form.

As things started to heat up even more, Ada carefully laid you back, being careful not to agitate any of your wounds, not that you cared anymore, you had better things to focus on. The two of you broke apart, gasping for air. Ada looked at you in a way you couldn’t get enough of. “Please… don’t stop.” Your words coming out barely loud enough to be audible. Ada didn’t need to say anything, right now actions speak louder than words. She moved her head to your neck, gently kissing you. Ada took her time there, figuring out what move made what sound. While her mouth was occupied she made quick work of your pants. Moving her hand to your clit. Soft fingers finding the perfect rythme to elicit beautiful noises from you. You felt like you were dreaming. The pain from your wounds completely overshadowed by the feeling of pleasure building in your core from Ada’s fingers. You couldn’t contain yourself, soft whimpers escaping your mouth as Ada slowly worked you to your high.

She then moved her mouth down, making sure to flutter kisses wherever she moved. With one hand she unclasped your bra, moving it out of the way so she could have access to your breasts. Her mouth found its place around your nipple, the feeling almost too much for you. You could feel the knot in your stomach starting to tighten. Ada was like a drug you couldn’t get enough of. Her fingers picked up the pace, rubbing your clit at a speed that had you losing your mind. Before you knew it, you were climaxing. Whines and moans escaping your lips. Ada worked you through it so well, telling you how good you were doing, keeping the same pace, making sure you felt cared for. You sunk even more into the couch, body going limp after your high. You looked at Ada through half lidded eyes, you couldn’t describe what you were feeling, it was all too much.

To be with the woman you have spent the last four years thinking about every single second of every single day? It was so bittersweet. Noise erupted from Adas radio, both of your heads turning to the sound. In that moment you remembered that this was temporary. “Ada..” Her eyes softened the moment you spoke. “You’re going to leave me aren’t you..” You couldn’t hide the pain in your voice. This amazing moment all coming to a painful end at your realisation that no matter how much you beg her to stay.. she can’t. Ada looked away, trying to compose herself. “I have to.” She got off of you, pulling herself up and cleaning off her dress. You sat up too, the pain from your injuries back in full force. Ada grabbed your discarded clothing, moving behind you again so she could clip your bra back into place and help you put your shirt back on. Ada reached out her hand, to which you grabbed and she helped you up.

You were both now standing facing each other, sullen eyes not daring to break contact, your hands stills clasped together. The radio sprung to life once more, requesting Ada go somewhere, somewhere away from you. Ada sighed, breaking eye contact and releasing her hand from your hold. She picked up her gloves, slipping them back on and turning her back to you. Ada turned her head back to look at you once more, before speaking. “Don’t let this be the last time you ever see me.” The same subtle smile showing up on her face before she turned and walked out the door. Your face contorted into a pained expression. “I won’t Ada. I promise.”