#and it fits perfectly with some writing she did ages ago

[nczennie]

it's ok if it hurts.

Pairing: Reader & Stray Kid's Hyunjin AU: Historical, Royalty Genre: Angst Preview: Hyunjin was always a romantic. Maybe that's why the second he found love he left you for dead. Words: 3.8k *warnings undercut

WARNINGS: Death, mentions of blood, mentions of sexual harassment

You've come to find out that you learn a lot of things growing up in a palace.

You may not learn how to read or write. How to walk so perfectly straight you can balance a book on your head. You'll never learn how to sweet talk delegates from other regions, but you think the lessons you've learned are just as valuable.

You know to always keep your eyes trained down, you know when it is okay for you to speak. You know to listen and observe every conversation you stumble upon. You've learned the techniques it takes to survive living as your rank in a place run by royals.

Your father is one of the King's chefs, your mother one of the ladies in charge of making the Queen's tea. They fell in love and married, you coming along shortly after. This meant you were apart of the palace life since you were born. And once you were old enough you were put to work as well, helping the other ladies in the garden picking herbs and cutting flowers.

You didn't mind your job, not that you had anything to compare it to. You enjoyed being able to work outside and the older women doted on you endlessly.

The King and Queen had two sons. Two boys blessed in beauty and had their own unique talents. The oldest of the two was eager to adopt his role as future King. Loving to read the history of the region, often taking his horse to explore the land. The youngest of the two boys was quite the opposite. He was a softer boy who loved poetry and art. Eager to make his own paintings rather than read about those who already did.

The younger Prince, Hyunjin, was your age. In fact, he was born merely months after you. The Queen found comfort in talking about her pregnancy with your mother as she served her tea. Comparing symptoms and trying to guess if that meant they were having a boy or a girl.

And though not proper, you and Hyunjin often played together when you were young, though it came with disapproving looks from his father whenever he caught you both. "It's alright, they're still young." his mother would say.

You always wondered if that meant once you become older you and Hyunjin would no longer be friends. But here you are now, having recently turned eighteen, pulling weeds from the garden as Hyunjin sat next to you sketching a newly bloomed flower.

The late summer humidity was getting to you as you move to wipe the sweat from your brow, the wide brim hat protecting you from the sunlight but did little to help your temperature when there was no breeze out. Reaching to place another weed in your basket you let out a huff.

"Did you hear the news?" Hyunjin speaks up, one of the first words he's spoke since concentrated on his writing. You turn to look at him but he doesn't move his gaze from his paper. "Maehwa is pregnant."

Maehwa is Hyunjin's sister-in-law. She married his brother some years ago and is set to be the future Queen. You hum, removing one of your gloves to relieve a bit of the heat, "Yes, mother told me. She seems very excited." Now alongside the Queen, your mother also serves Maehwa her tea as well.

Hyunjin puts his pencil down, opening and closing his fist as if to relieve his charcoal coated fingers of the stiffness. "My brother says he secretly wishes it's a girl," Hyunjin chuckles knowing if their father heard he would yell at him, knowing tradition calls for needing sons in order to keep their position as royal family.

You smile at the thought, you were fond of Hyunjin's brother. He was always very polite and nice to not only you but everyone he met. He was well read and modern and determined to make a difference when he became King. Even Maehwa, whom he was arranged to marry was a perfect fit for him. Sharing his kindness and beliefs.

Returning your glove to your hand, you reach for another weed hidden beneath a dirt pile, "I know he will be a great father no matter what." Hyunjin hums in agreement moving to smudge bits of his drawing.

"Well, well, well," Someone draws out and you and Hyunjin look in surprise as someone approaches you both.

Upon seeing him, you avert your gaze, secretly rolling your eyes as he approaches, "What are you both doing alone?" It was Hyunjin's personal guard. A young man by the name of Sahan.

On Hyunjin's eighteenth birthday, a personal guard was hired to make sure he was safe, especially since it meant he could now travel outside of the palace. This is where Sahan came in, he was some years older than the Prince but much more immature. There was something about the man you didn't quite trust, and the inappropriate comments he makes to the women staff around the palace make you all uncomfortable. But Hyunjin doesn't see that, in fact he seems to love Sahan. Growing up his only contact with people around his age were his brother and you. You figure he takes pleasure in having Sahan around and sees him as a friend.

Hyunjin smiles as the man approaches, "Oh come on, you know she is my friend." He chuckles standing to his feet and wipes at his clothes to remove any dirt. You still don't move to look at them but you could basically hear the smirk in Sahan's voice, "That may be but you know it's inappropriate for you both to be alone. Especially when you are friends with someone so beautiful, it could be tempting."

You don't give the man the satisfaction of a reaction, biting your tongue and keeping your gaze fixed on the plant before you.

Hyunjin lets out an amused scoff and your stomach clenches as he speaks, "Oh, please. It's not like that." Sahan laughs loudly at this, perhaps finding amusement in your friends rejection of you. "Suit yourself," you hear Hyunjin gather his art supplies.

You don't dare to look back, not even when Hyunjin calls your name and tells you goodbye. You listen to the sound of their footsteps growing further and further away on the gravel.

Your mom always warned you your feelings for Hyunjin were dangerous.

But you merely rolled your eyes. You weren't stupid, you felt like saying. You knew you could never be with Hyunjin and you would never try to. Those thoughts you had about him falling in love with you and begging his parents to let him marry you were just fantasies you knew were for your head only.

But that doesn't mean it hurt any less when they announced he was getting married.

A scholar's daughter. Her family quicking raising in social status and wealth. Not acceptable for an heir, but for a second son, she would do.

You feel grateful that it isn't Hyunjin that breaks the news to you. That way when your mother tells you, you could cry in her arms as she tells you off for your feelings but hugs you tight nonetheless.

Hyunjin has always been romantic.

And now that he is getting his chance at love he seems happier than ever. Now sitting below the tree where you pick apples. Hanging on to the ladder and biting your tongue as he drowns out about his wedding.

"I think I will paint her something and surprise her with it the night of the wedding." He looks up at you and you fill the bag with the ripe fruit. You hum but don't speak, focusing on reaching and keeping your balance.

"She'll probably be so nervous to move into the palace. But after the wedding when we're finally alone, I'll reassure her I'll love her and protect her. And then I'll present her with the painting and we can display it in our room." He drones on.

He's always been like this, coming up with romantic scenarios where he's the hero that can save and comfort someone he loves. But unfortunately they've never been about you.

"I could paint a picture of her town, to remind her of home. What do you think?" He asks and you sigh. "That's sweet, Hyunjin." You say because no matter how bitter you feel, you can't deny the sentiment.

"I just met her, she's is quite the beauty."

You jump with a start, turning to see who has joined you in the gardeners shed. A chill runs through you as you see Sahan standing in the doorway. Without giving him a response, you turn back to the bucket of water where you were washing the vegetables.

Your heart pounds as he walks closer to you, your breath hitches as he stands directly behind you. "Salin, that's her name." He says in a low voice behind you.

He's speaking of Hyunjin's finacé. The wedding is tomorrow, and she arrived to the palace tonight.

"Leave me alone, Sahan." You finally say, scrubbing the radish for the wedding celebrations even harder.

Suddenly, you feel the weight of his hand over your waist, causing the vegetable to slip from your hand. You turn, burning red as he has the nerve to touch you.

"Don't touch me." You say firmly but he only looks down at you with a smirk. "Hyunjin is not yours anymore." He whispers, "He belongs to Salin now." He moves closer, pushing you into the large bucket, pressing against you and you try to push at his chest to keep your space.

"I can help you forget him, I can distract you." He leans in to whisper in your ear as you yank your head to the side. He hand form before returns to your waist giving it a squeeze.

"Get out. I'll scream." You say trying your best to keep your voice steady. But he merely laughs, "I think it's funny you have any power over me. You think anyone here will care what I do to you?"

Your lip wobbles as you look past his shoulder. Because no matter how small it made you feel, it was true.

There's a bustle of commotion from outside. You assume more gardeners returning to work after finishing their dinner. The whole palace will be awake all night to finish preparing for the big day tomorrow.

Sahan glances towards the door before pulling away from you completely. "I'll see you another time." He says simply before slipping out into the night. Leaving you to finish washing radishes as quiet sobs leave your mouth.

The wedding goes splendidly.

Not that you would know as you were not allowed near the occasion, but the rest of the palace speaks happily about the whole ordeal.

You haven't seen Hyunjin in over a month. You suppose you should've expected this as he is married now. But a part of you wanted to believe you meant a least a fraction as much to him as he did to you.

On that note, you haven't seen Sahan since that night as well. He was busy accompanying Hyunjin and Salin around the town as they explored her new home.

But now a sense of paranoia and dread filled you whenever you were alone. Not wanted to run into him in fear of what he would do to you.

It was one early morning when you and the rest of the garders were busy planting seeds for a new crop. However your work was interrupted when the newly appointed princess, Salin walked with her staff into the field.

As protocol has it, you all stopped your work, standing to bow before standing still with your gaze pointed to the ground.

"I came to check out the work," she speaks and her voice is light as a feather. It's the first time you've been in the same room as her and you're dying to cast your gaze up to get a glance at her. But you restrain yourself.

"Thank you for all your hard work." She speaks over everyone, walking down the line of you all before stopping merely feet from you. "As you all know, I am now Prince Hyunjin's wife. And I just want to remind you all that you are gardeners. You work for the palace."

"And palace staff is all you'll stay. Please remember your place. Staff should not be on comfortable speaking terms with any of the royal family." Your mouth runs dry at her words.

She is talking to you all, but you know she is speaking to you.

She thanks you all once again before taking her leave. Shakily, you get back to your position. She had to be talking about you, there was no other explanation. Somehow she must've found out about your friendship with Hyunjin, but how?

A couple of days later when it's your turn to set the fruit buckets to dry, you notice Hyunjin sitting under the tree just ahead of you.

A smile quirks on your face as for a second it feels like the old days. "Hyunjin," you call as you walk up to him giving him a friendly smile. He looks up from where he was drawing, eyebrows furrowed as if he didn't hear you approach.

But instead of his familiar warm smile or playful smirk he once gave you, his face stays still. A look of blankness casting over him like a veil. As if twenty years of memories slipped his mind.

"I hope you are not forgetting you are speaking to a member of the royal family." He speaks in an even tone.

You take a small step back taking a moment to consider his words. Hoping for a second that he was joking. Unfortunately there is not a hint of amusement in his face, instead a coldness that passes from his gaze to your blood.

"Your highness, excuse me." You say quietly before turning and scrambling off, forgetting about what you originally came for.

Your chest heaves as you make your way back to your working quarters. A dull pain lingering in your head as you try to comprehend what happened.

For as long as you've known Hyunjin you've never adhered to the rules that everyone else was expected to follow. He made it clear to you from the start that you were friends and there was no need to treat him otherwise.

Not realising that must've ended for him as soon as he got married.

You keep your head down as you enter the gardening shed, your coworkers chattering loudly. Suddenly, you remember about drying the baskets, so you quickly make your way into the corner pretending you came to grab more.

Stacking them slowly, you give yourself a minute to cry. Tears streaming down your face as you mourn your friend. It seems so sudden he was ripped from you without you even knowing.

You hear the door open but don't bother to look, not even when the loud chatter becomes murmurs.

You still work as you feel a presence behind you before a voice speaks, "I suppose whatever relationship you had with the Prince has come to an end."

It's Sahan. You recognize his chilling voice from anywhere. That must also explain why the other ladies have quieted. For there is no woman in the palace who feels comfortable with him.

You don't speak or acknowledge him as he only brings out a burning anger from within you.

"It's a shame the Princess doesn't want him around you. I must've let your friendship slip." He teases with a smirk you don't have to see to know is there.

So that's what happened. It's Sahan who told Princess Salin about your friendship with Hyunjin. That's why she visited you all in the fields the other day. That explains Hyunjin's behavior.

Sahan turns to leave a second later, perhaps not finding fun in your lack of reaction but you would never give him the satisfaction. You would never let him know that he's ruined you.

The next month has been miserable.

Not only is there a big harvest coming up that has you working from sunup to sundown, but you miss Hyunjin.

You loved Hyunjin. And although you were smart enough not to admit it to anyone it still doesn't stop the fact that you feel utterly heartbroken.

You've lost not only a love, but your only friend in the palace. At this point you feel as if you've had nothing left. Even your parents have got to retire from their years of hard work and loyalty, living in a house outside of the palace and in town. It may be small but it was their own.

One night you feel like you're sleepwalking as you make your way back to your sleeping quarters. The palace is dark as everyone who is inside sleeps, but you volunteered to be the one to cleaned and prepped the tools ready for the morning.

Walking past one of the building you freeze.

It could be your sleep deprivation, or the wind, but from within just for a second it sounded like a yelp.

You pause listening for more. Surely if there was something, the guards would be alerted by now.

There was not another yelp, but instead a large thud.

This, not something you could blame on being tired. You heard it loud and clear.

You look around, waiting for someone to come to check out the noises, but there are only crickets. Hesitantly you take a step towards the door. If no one else was coming you had to make sure everything was okay.

Slowly, you start to slide the door open, as if to warn whoever was on the other side of your entry. Once you slip in, you let your eyes adjust, only a single candle lighting the room from the corner.

Standing in the middle of the room, is Prince Salin, causing you to freeze. You're about to bow and apologize before you noticed the terrified look on her face. She's heaving, sweating from her brow.

Looking at her hands, you freeze noticing the blood.

A panic wells in you as you begin to think she is hurt.

She holds what looks like a piece of a vase. Your gaze continues to the floor. You quickly move your hands to your mouth before the sound of shock can leave you.

There lies his body.

A pool of blood spilling from his neck, looking black in the dark lighting. The remains of the broken vase scattered around him.

You make a quick decision, entering the room completely before shutting the door quietly behind you.

"He-He was trying to touch me! I just wanted him to stop!" Salin cries, far too loud for your liking.

You hush her, moving in front of her to throw your hand over her mouth. "It's okay." You comfort her, knowing in fact it was anything but with a dead body on the floor beneath you both.

Keeping your hand over her mouth as she cries, you look down at the mess. Your mind wheeling with what to do next. What you finally decide scares you at first, but you start to move before you can think too much.

"Listen to me," You whisper to her, waiting for her to meet your gaze. "You need to sneak back into your room okay? Don't let anyone see you. Wash your hands and burn the dress, do you understand?" She merely stares at you so you push your hand into her, "Do you understand?" You whisper harshly.

She finally nods, looking desperate. You remove your hand, "Only get the help of your most trusted lady. Don't speak a word of what happened, just have her wash you and burn the dress." You repeat hoping she gets it despite her shocked state.

You step away, taking the sharp glass from her hand before nodding at her, "Go." She doesn't move for a second, looking at you before you point to the door.

She doesn't spare you another glace as she leaves as quietly as you entered.

You stare at the door for a few moments before finally looking down at the body again.

Sahan.

Leaning down you let yourself check for a pulse, confirming he was dead. You return to your standing position, looking at him and not finding it in yourself to feel sorry for him at all. You contemplate, for even in death he continues to ruin your life.

And that's how they find you.

Hyunjin was always a romantic. Maybe that's why the second he found love he left you for dead.

You knew this would be the ending of your story as soon as you made the decision to take Salin's place.

Tied and kneeling in the courtyard of the palace, moments away from death.

Though your heart pounds with fear, you don't let yourself look away from Hyunjin, hoping to catch a glimpse at your old friend before you go.

But the reality is, he is no longer there.

For he was the one who suggested execution when they told him you had murdered his beloved Sahan. At the beginning you tried to plead, explaining how he was regularing harassing women around the palace. How you were merely defending yourself but it fell on deaf ears.

Sahan was right when he said he had more power than you, even now that he was gone.

You move your gaze from Hyunjin to Salin. You're welcome, you try to convey with your eyes. This could be you. You're lucky I'm the one who found you. All messages you want her to know, but you doubt she even cares at this point. Merely happy she got away with murder.

The guards ask if you have any last words.

You've been practicing for this. You clear your throat looking at Hyunjin in the eye. It didn't really matter what you said anyways, in moments you'd be dead.

You speak clearly, hoping to conceal any traces of fear from them.

"Hyunjin," You say loud enough to make sure he can hear, "It's ok if it hurts, because I love you."

A silence follows and though not even in your fantasies you imagined this is how you confess your love, you're just glad that you got to. Even if no reaction follows.

You keep Hyunjin's blank gaze until they throw the cloth bag over your head. Darkness consumes you, but you wish you could somehow see Hyunjin's reaction. To see if there is even a sliver of sadness or remorse as he see your life taken away from you.

Copyright © 2024 by nczennie. All rights reserved.

🌼 All feedback is appreciated and welcomed 🌼

[ne0n-rust]

"Not that it’s any of your concern, hm?"

Beloved Eli and quote are from @nw-art 😌

[yesimwriting]

Pulling Away

A/n did i write smut for once? yeah. also timeline wise is this perfectly accurate? it’s iffy,, but this fic isn’t about the plot too much so it’s okay

Summary: You’re not the only one that’s feeling a little territorial thanks to the influx of people you’re around in Jackson. 

warnings: 18+, implied age gap, no condom, a tiny bit manipulative if you squint, brief mention of losing virginity.

----

He’s not a force of nature, no matter how hard he might pretend to be for the sake of those around him. Joel can’t actually change anything. So the shift in temperature you feel as Joel stills has to be a byproduct of what’s in your head. 

The kind of burning cold that better fits a fever runs through you and you hate yourself for it. This isn’t the first time you’ve been delusional when it comes to him. 

You’re working off of a quarter of his face against low lighting. It doesn’t make sense for you to be able to feel so much from the little of him that you can see. It’s not anger. Or at least, not just that. There’s definitely a subdued rage radiating from him, but it’s undercut by something that punches you straight in the gut. 

Maybe you’re being a little unfair, but you have a right to it at this point. You can’t follow him around blindly like some kind of puppy forever. Especially now that you’re both settled enough to be able to think of things outside of pure survival.

“Ellie’s asleep.” A flat observation that you can’t explain. Maybe it’s the need to break the silence, or maybe it’s a genuine attempt at making things feel normal. You two should still be able to talk. You never wanted that to end. “Swore she wasn’t tired, but passed out as soon as her head touched the mattress.” 

Joel lets out a small sound from the back of his throat. It’s a spike in the atmosphere. “Think I’m gonna go to bed, too.” You don’t understand your awkwardness or the urge to create distance. It’s not like Joel would hurt you, but then again, the buzz of adrenaline doesn’t seem to be coming from a place of fear. It’s an uneasy burning that worsens when you raise your eyes enough to meet his. “Night.” 

The one word is a little better and somehow so much worse. Not aggressive or trying to make things better. It’s just there. Civil. 

When he says nothing, you take it as your sign to call it a night. Tomorrow could be better. Sure, your rocky dynamic might be going through growing pains while you set boundaries that should have been established long ago, but you’ll likely survive this. You’re all staying together in the same house in Jackson for the time being and you both care too much about Ellie to separate over something small. 

Even if Joel won’t directly admit to it, the part of your relationship that feels like co-parenting is sacred. That’s part of the reason why the feelings you’ve been fighting with yourself to dismantle are so complicated. He cares about Ellie more than he wants to admit and the last thing you need right now is to tear away the little stability she’s finally been given. Not over a few awkward conversations and stiff moments. 

The weird irony that vaguely reflects the issues of the world before isn’t lost on you. If someone were to squint at the situation, you’d seem like a wife trapped in a marriage for the sake of her children. Maybe if it was happening to someone else you’d have enough energy to find it funny. 

You turn carefully, like a too loud squeak of your shoes could be what snaps the thinning thread tying you two to a hint of casualness. You don’t need to pass him to get to where you’re sleeping. The three of you had been set up in a space that allowed for each person to have their own room. It’s like that in theory, but in practice it’s more like Ellie’s room, Joel’s room, and the spare. 

A comfortable enough bedroom that you’ve maybe spent the entire night alone in twice in the weeks you’ve been here. You can’t even pretend that you keep the few things you own in there either. Joel’s an even lighter traveler than you, so slowly your items made their way into the drawers in his room. Now, your room is basically just where you go to change into and out of sleepwear.

You’ll get used to it, used to the draft that originally led to you giving up on rocky sleep the first night you ended up sleeping next to Joel. Your dreams kept you up even more than the cold, but when Joel’s drowsy voice called out to you in the dark, asking why you were awake, you blamed the night’s chill. That’s how it first happened. 

It was a mistake you should have never let turn into habit. You’re correcting it now. Setting boundaries to prevent heartbreak. It’s only a matter of time considering the way the women here look at him.

“Since when do you sleep in there?”

His voice is so gruff it instinctually freezes you. Any sarcastic comment at the back of your throat vanishes immediately. The both of you are fully aware of how you end up each night, but it’s a boundary in itself not to mention it. You’re not sure if it’s more him or you, but what happens at night and early in the morning is never mentioned.

It’s a dip into another reality. A space where Joel’s a little lighter, almost more open. Sometimes he’ll drag your arm with him when he moves onto his side, a silent way of asking you to stay close. On the best nights, he’ll joke about it, letting your limbs meld together under a blanket and swear he’s just trying to keep you warm out of the kindness of his heart. 

His humor is the worst. The kind that some might justify as a result of years of it being at a stalemate for years considering the tragic state of the world, but you know better. They’re the kind of jokes that take a second to settle because of his general exterior, but are meant to be so dumb they force out a smile. In another life, the little comments are dad jokes.

The peace bleeds into the mornings now, he’ll keep the closeness and remind you that you don’t have to get up immediately by mumbling something about Ellie still being asleep. Like she’s the only thing significant enough to get you two to return to reality. 

You’re convinced that these moments exist because neither of you mention them. He’s crossing a line you didn’t realize meant so much to you and he’s being dramatic it, too. It’s not the rarest thing for you to ‘attempt’ to sleep in your own bed. Sure, you’re more likely to lay in that room for a few hours on nights where Ellie stays up a little later, but this isn’t the strangest thing you’ve done. 

He’s ripping any chance of returning to that separate world away from you. It stings more than it should. “Thought I’d give it a try,” you voice is too low, too defensive, “It’s not a big deal.” 

The defense sounds so weak in your own ears, you don’t even want to imagine what he took from it. “Bullshit.”

His voice comes out in such a low huff you feel it more than hear it. If the sound had felt any less dangerous, you would have pretended to mistake it for another wordless grunt. Your lips part slowly as your mind struggles to create any kind of logical response. 

Pretending is clearly getting you nowhere. The only reason you ever pretended it would was pure delusion. Joel has always been able to see through you, through any shift in mood. Even when your lies are better, his ability to sense them is uncanny. 

He turns with no warning. Joel crosses the space between you before you can even fully register his steps. Your body tenses as heat rushes to your face in result of an oddly charged parody of fight or flight. You almost step back, one heel shifting back, but then you meet his gaze and the determined glint behind his eye is enough to melt you into place. 

There’s something else there, too. A focus that pins you into place even further. Holds you there better than the barrel of a pistol could. 

The absurdity of the warmth rooted in your chest should be enough to make the feeling go away. It doesn’t, so you force your lips to part again. You need to say something. Anything. “Joel?” Not that. Not just his name in a voice that feels violently small. 

“You’re pullin’ away.” 

The accusation in his voice leaves no room for argument. You try anyways, “No.” The rest of your thoughts can’t come out while you’re looking at him at the same time. There’s shame in dropping your gaze to focus on your shoes and the little space between you. “It’s not like that.” 

Joel lets out a low sound. The creak of the floor as he steps forward again snaps you out of your trance. You step back in a desperate attempt to keep the space between the two of you equal. Your back hits the wall before you can come close to achieving your goal. It’s a knee jerk reaction that leaves your face feeling even warmer than before. A part of you expects Joel to laugh at the sound or at least comment on it. He doesn’t. He continues forward until his mouth is so close to your ear the warmth of his breath lingers when he exhales. 

He takes a second there, relishing in your stillness. “Don’t lie to me.” Joel pulls away just enough to look you in the eye. “You don’t want to talk to me, you’re talkin’ about leavin’.” The southern drawl of his voice is increasing with his frustration. It’s distracting in a way that feels too convenient. Like he’s doing this on purpose. 

You swallow once. “You found your brother. I have a sister out there, I’d--I think now that things are more settled with Ellie it wouldn’t be the worst thing for me to look for her.” 

“And you don’t want us goin’ with you, but you’re more than willing to let the guy that’s always lookin’ at you--” 

“Oh my god, is that what this is about?” You are insane. Of course his issue is who mentioned it. John knows travel, leaves Jackson and comes back in one piece when he needs to. He wouldn’t be the worst person to have with you if you did want to start a rudimentary search for your sister. “I didn’t make any plans with John, it just came up.” 

“You don’t want us goin’ with you.” 

Your throat feels dry. The thought of it makes you feel cold. You haven’t seen your sister in a few years and so much has changed. You’re no longer in the QZ and your sister has no way of knowing that. She can’t reach out if there’s trouble or good news and she has no reason to assume that you’re safe. You know where she lives, and if she’s not there, you know a few of her usual spots. She doesn’t typically stray too far from her bubble. It wouldn’t be a long trip, just long enough. 

Long enough to give you some space. Long enough to remember what it’s like to not be around Joel all the time. Long enough to feel less about him. 

And you’d come back. You wouldn’t just walk out of his life and Ellie’s forever. The little bit of space you’re trying to get would make it easier for you to stick around in the long run because it’s the only way you can think to get rid of the feelings that are trying to ruin everything. 

“We haven’t been here that long and Ellie’s finally starting to feel settled. I don’t want to drag her out of that yet and make her feel like her entire life is just going to be her being dragged around the country.” 

Your words are a jumble, rushed together in a way that makes the honesty of them less effective. It’s a good point. Ellie just called her room hers the other day and even asked about moving the bed against a different wall.

Joel lets out a low breath, eyes hardening. “You’re right. She’s settlin’ and she needs you.” He knows he’s hit his mark when you don’t respond. “How do you think she’s gonna take the news that you’re leaving?” 

“Leaving to visit my sister.” You struggle to swallow. “Temporarily. It’ll take less than two weeks.” 

His lips pull into a frown as his eyebrows together. Moody and brooding. The look you’ve openly referred to as his old man scowl. “With John.” 

Ugh. This again. Why does it matter? Yes, John will be there, but it’s not like it’s just you and John. Your sister isn’t that far and she has access to supplies that aren’t common, she has an understanding with people that have easy access to medical supplies. 

But even if it was just you and John, it doesn’t matter. There are a lot of areas in which you factor in Joel’s opinion, but this is definitely not one of them. You two aren’t together and with the way he does nothing to show any discontent when the girls here start to look at him, he definitely doesn’t need you keeping his bed warm at night. 

“If I go, he wouldn’t be the only one there.” The fact that you’re trying to justify John’s presence leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You’re a grown woman, free to associate with whoever you want. You might jokingly call him your old man from time to time, but he has no right. “And if even if he was, what does it matter?” 

His jaw locks and the downwards tilt of his chin erases the little bit of confidence you’ve managed to build. “You’ve seen the way that boy looks at you.”

You have to bite your tongue to avoid from blurting out that he’s also seen the way majority of the women you see on a daily basis look at him. Joel’s also exaggerating. John does not have any feelings for you, and if he did, it wouldn’t matter. It’s not like you see John as anything more than a friend. But even if you did--it is not his business. At all. 

“He doesn’t.” There’s little point in saying that, Joel’s not one to have his mind so easily swayed and he’s been wary of John since the beginning. Sometimes it even feels like the more you insist that he’s a good friend, the more Joel seems to dislike him. “And if he did, it doesn’t matter.” 

Your words feel like a retreat they shouldn’t need to be. Small, the meaning of the sentence compacted and straining against the limited syllables. A part of you expects Joel to understand what you do mean. That it doesn’t matter because it takes two interested parties to form any kind of relationship. That your mind isn’t even there in terms of feeling safe...that the only person who has ever made you feel safe enough to imagine anything beyond friendship is right in front of you. 

For the first time, Joel doesn’t pick up on the relevance of what isn’t said. You can feel his lack of understanding in the way he moves, placing one hand on the wall, near your head. You blink, trying in vain to explain the motion, explain his proximity. He’s caging you in. 

The heat of his body is practically inescapable, amplified by the way he smells. Joel showered a little earlier, his natural scent combining pleasantly with that of plain soap. After so many nights next to him, you would think you would have developed a tolerance. You haven’t. And even if you did, you doubt it’d matter...this is different. Dizzying. 

“Doesn’t matter?” 

He’s somehow even closer and somehow not touching you. The realization that that’s the worst part of this leaves your stomach fluttering. You need the feeling gone, so you force out the first words that come to mind, “It matters as much as all the girls that look at you like that.” 

It feels more bitter than it comes out, leaving a metallic taste on your tongue. You need out. You need space. You need sleep. Joel’s silence feels like opportunity, so as subtly as you can you try to shift away from the wall. Your back is off the wall for less than a second before you’re pushed back against it. 

Your body hits the wall before you can realize that Joel’s hand is on your hip. There’s too much surprise for that fact to settle, so you look up at him almost bewildered. You expect him to let go or at least look somewhat apologetic. He does the opposite, moving the hand on the wall under your jaw and closing the distance between you in a motion so quick you can barely register it. 

His mouth is on yours before your mind can catch up. It makes no difference to him. He’s rabid in his patience, taking what he wants without forcing your lips to part. His hand squeezes your hip and all at once it connects. You gasp and Joel pins you to the wall even more securely, deepening the kiss with an expert’s ease. 

It lasts until you can’t breathe and ends with his teeth grazing against your bottom lip as he pulls away. “All of this,” the words are exhaled lowly, “’Cause you’re jealous.” 

The kiss left you so light headed your first instinct is to just agree. To not think and do or say whatever you need to in order to get him that close again. But his tone is too sure, too teasing, and the implication isn’t something he can just get away with. “Jealous?” His smugness is hard to take with him holding you against the wall like this. It’s too vulnerable, like this might be some kind of game to him. It makes you feel transparent. Hollow. “Fuck whoever you want, I don’t care.” 

It’s like you’ve said nothing until Joel has the audacity to squeeze your hip. “Whoever I want?” His hand shifts up your hip, your shirt moving with him. “Hm.” His hum settles beneath your skin, effectively silencing you as his eyes take their time raking over your face and down your body. “Those were some big words from you.” 

Heat rushes to your face. It’s ridiculous--you curse more than that on a regular basis. He’s playing into context, too aware of what he’s doing. The urge to push burns twice as hard as buzzing in your chest. “They’re true. We’re not--we’re not anything, so if I want to go with--” 

“I’m not losin’ you.” There’s a desperation in there that comes out so hard it circles back to vulnerable. “You wanna go see your sister, we go see your sister. That’s how we got through everything else.” The hand on your hip moves down, his fingers dipping beneath the elastic waistband of your shorts. You hate yourself a little for the way your breath audibly catches. “Understand?” 

His hand lowers even further, long fingers pressing against the fabric of your underwear. You’re not breathing right and you can’t bring yourself to care. The only thing you can think of is closer. “Y-yes.” 

“’Yes’ what?” No sympathy in his voice or anything that would give away that he has a hand shoed down your pants. 

His touch picks up pace, rubbing against you until a whimper escapes your lips. “Yes, sir.”

Joel moves his hand away with no warning. The whine that escapes your lips doesn’t feel like your own. He’s barely touched you and you’re already like this. “Barely touched you and you’re already listening.” He hooks two fingers in between the band of your underwear. “Should’ve done this awhile again, then.” 

You’re burning all over, the only thing you can manage is a quick, “Shut up.” It lacks any bite. 

He pulls at the band of our underwear, letting it snap back into place. If you didn’t know any better, you’d consider the flash of something softer across his face as amusement. “If you want me to stop, you’ve gotta tell me.” 

Your nod feels desperate. Your entire body feels desperate. For the way he kissed you, the way he touched you. “I-I’ll tell you.” He’s still not moving, not doing anything. It’s some sort of punishment. It has to be. “Joel...” 

“You going to say ‘please’?” 

You have half a mind to tell him to fuck off, but then his fingers hook around your underwear again. A promise. “Please, Joel.” This is all unfamiliar but you trust Joel to get what you want, what you need. “Need you.” 

With no warning, he yanks down your shorts and underwear. They fall down your legs and you blindly kick them to the side. “Need me?” He tilts his head down, pressing an open mouthed kiss against your cheek, then two to your jaw. “Need me where, sweetheart?” 

God. Anywhere. Everywhere. Your desperation reminds you of how incredibly unfair it is that you’re already down to just our t-shirt and Joel’s still fully dressed. You move your hand slowly, carefully tugging at whatever piece of clothing on him you can reach. 

He’s unimpressed. “C’mon, use your big girl words.” His hand is in between your thighs, his fingers teasing at your entrance in a way that makes it impossible to focus on anything else. “You were usin’ them just fine a second ago.” 

“Joel,” he kisses your jaw again, forcing away all train of thought. It has to be intentional. “Joel,” again, too soft. 

“I know,” he exhales the words against your neck, “I know, sweetheart. Need me to take care of you.” Joel doesn’t wait for a reaction, just pushes his fingers fully into you. You gasp too loudly, Joel moves his free hand over your mouth. “Be a good girl and be quiet. Can’t wake up Ellie.” 

Shit. How did you not think of that? “You’ll be good and quiet for me? Let me stretch you out a bit first?” There’s a knot in your stomach that’s slowly taking over all of your senses. As long as Joel keeps working at it, you could promise him anything. You nod against the palm of his hand. 

You bite your tongue to keep from whimpering too loudly. “Need you to relax,” he presses into you even more firmly, “Get you ready for me.” 

He slowly eases his hand off of your face. “Joel, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, you just know you need more. You want him to consume you entirely. Feel him until he’s all there is.

You hear the sound of a belt buckle and his jeans shifting. Instinctually, you move a hand towards him, wanting to help, wanting to feel him. “There’ll be time for that, right now it’s about you.” You’re about to argue when he skillfully adds another finger. Fuck. “You’re tight,” he breathes, “No one’s ever touched you here?” 

His fingers curl inside of you and you have to burry your face into the fabric of his shirt to keep from crying out. “Only you.” 

“Look who’s found her manners.” He’s picking up the pace and smoothing down your hair as you squirm against him. “Should’ve done this sooner.” Just as the coil in your lower stomach tightens, Joel takes his hand back. 

You push yourself off of him, staring at him with an expression you know he’ll consider pouting. “Why’d you--” 

“Because I want you to remember this.” He pushes you back to the wall, pressing his body against you. The head of his cock brushes against your entrance. With no warning, he pushes into you. Your sharp gasp overlaps with Joel’s low groan. “Y’need a man to fuck the attitude out of you.” He moves slowly, the friction unbelievably overwhelming and somehow not enough. “That boy wouldn’t know what to do with you.” 

Joel presses you further into the wall, sinking into you as deep as possible before pulling out just to sink back in. His pace is even until his breathing picks up. You’re a mess against him, hiding your face in his chest when he starts fucking you with full force.

“You’re squeezing me so good.” Joel practically pants the words into your skin. “Fuck, ‘m going to--you gonna finish with me, sweetheart?” 

Your mind is mush, you can barely nod against him as his thrusts start to lose their focus. You’re pushed over the edge as Joel’s teeth graze against your neck. He pulls at your orgasm, dragging it along until your legs are jelly and he’s pulling out in order to not finish inside you. 

The two of you stay holding onto each other for what feels like a long time and not enough. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, okay?”

You pull your head off of him enough to look him in the eye. “Not without you.” 

He smiles, lines that you can imagine kissing forever etching themselves into his skin. “That’s my girl.” Joel runs a hand up and down your back fondly. “Let’s go to bed,” he presses a kiss against your jaw, “Give me the space to properly appreciate you.”

The thought makes your body burn all over again. “You sure you aren’t tired out, old man?” 

Joel huffs out what’s almost a laugh, “We’ll see who’s tiring who out, sweetheart.” 

[romanarose]

Wreckage

Joel Miller

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Summary: Joel and Tommy go back to Joel's home the morning after outbreak day and comb through the wreckage of their life.

Warnings: I'll be clear, Joel attempts suicide. Major, major, major trigger warning. Joel's extreme grief, guilt as a parent, just sadness. Endless slightly hopeful, a hint that he will find healing. But it's mostly wump. PLEASE head the warning, i cried writing this.

Based on Wreckage by Pearl Jam. I heard it and immidiatly thought of Joel and Tommy, pleeeeeease listen.

Visited by thought, another darkened day

How you're like the sun, hiding somewhere beyond the rain

I'm needing for the light, stormy is the grey

Rivers overflowing, drowning all our yesterdays

It was over. His life was over. Sarah, his baby daughter, his sweet teenager who was his reason for getting to the end of every hard day, his smart, talented, matured-to-early-because-he-couldn’t-give-her-what-she-needed daughter died in his arms hours ago. Minutes later, him and Tommy were arrested, torn away from where he held her, Sarah’s young body limp in his arms. Joel screamed as the soldiers tried to take him, wanting him to walk away from her when he wanted to lay down and waste away in the field with him. Tommy tried to calm him down but eventually the soldiers took them both away. They were released not too long later, sent back to their little town to gather up their things and move into some quarantine area. Wanting to avoid it, they went to Tommy’s first, grabbing his identification and what he could fit into a bag. Tommy lived in a studio, a messy bachelor pad�� Joel had to look through a whole life lived in that house. They stood at the front door, bodies of their neighbors having been cleaned up already. Tommy put his hand on Joel’s back. 

“Are you ready, brother?”

Joel shrugged Tommy off. “No.” He opened the door.

Visited by thoughts on another darkened week

How even every winner hits a losing streak

The mistakes we all make and perfectly repeat

Chains are made by DNA refusing

Refusing to release

Everything was her.

Her soccer shoes on the floor he yelled at her to pick up that day.

The countertop she sat on as a toddler as he cooked breakfast for her on a Sunday that Tommy inevitably would come over and eat. Joel always made extra just incase.

The staircase they had their first major fight when she was 11. She came home late and after years of fairly lax parenting for a mature little girl, he laid down the law. She screamed that he was never around anyway, so why did it matter? Joel wanted to tell her it mattered because he was worried, that he spent the last hour calling every parent he knew, Tommy driving around town after dark because they didn’t know where she was. Instead, he got defensive and raised his voice.

The couch. Every late night movie they fell asleep watching, every time he woke up and she was dozed off on his chest or the arm of the chair. Every night he scooped her up and carried her to bed. Nights she faked being asleep so he’d do it. Feeling her growing up in her arms and feeling his age in his knees but never letting that stop him from picking her carrying her up the stairs, even in her teens. He would have done it last night. Instead he carried her past burning buildings and people killing each other as he and Tommy tried in vain to save her.

Combing through the wreckage, pouring through the sand

Surrounded by the remnants, what we could and couldn't have

Raking through the ashes, falling through my hands

Charcoal on the faces in the burned up photographs

“Whaddya need?” Tommy asked, the question two fold. They were being moved, shuffled to some containment area to be assessed for illness and then… who knows. Joel and Tommy would need clothes for a few days, they were told. But Tommy was also asking Joel, ‘How can I help you?’ But he couldn’t. Not really.

“Some bags in the cupboard.” He answered, looking at Sarah’s 100% paper he hung up on the fridge. Tommy grabbed them, waiting on Joel. They didn't have luggage, he didn’t travel enough for it. Well, Sarah had one, but he didn’t feel like taking a Spongebob suitcase. He had a backpack upstairs where he’d put his clothes in. “Food. Get canned shit.” They had enough of it. Joel was always feeding Sarah chef boyardee and campbells soups, like the lazy parent he was. Why didn’t he take the time to cook her real food? He was always so tired… too tired to take care of his only kid? She was in soccer, she was growing, she was in puberty, why couldn’t he be what she needed? WHy did he have to fail her, again and again and again and…

“M’ going upstairs…” 

Tommy said something, but Joel’s ears were ringing and he couldn’t hear. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t face his daughter's bedroom… Joel closed his eyes as he walked past. Backpack was in his closet, he would just grab it, shove some basics in there, and get the hell out. When Joel opened his closet door, his backpack was there… And so was the gun he had up top for emergencies.

Oh, visited by thought and this I got to say

If you're feeling the leaving, I can't make you stay

I've only ever wanted for it not to be this way

But you're now like the water

And the water will find its way

He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. Joel was baptist, he was raised think suicide meant he was going to hell, but what was this world without Sarah? For 13 years, Joel poured everything he had into raising her and it wasn’t enough. He was never home, she said as much in the card she gave him for his birthday. He didn’t feed her right, he didn’t spend enough time with her, every single one of her accomplishments from soccer to her grades was all her. 

The gun was enticing,  up there for him, hidden in a lock box after Sarah got sent home with a pamphlet on gun safety after Columbine. Maybe he should just take it, just incase there was trouble… No, that was stupid. If the government was rounding up civilians, they weren’t going to let him walk in with a gun, everything would be searched. And one guy with a gun wasn’t going to be a match for 100 guys with guns. Joel would probably end up getting Tommy shot too, failing everyone he loved. 

Still, Joel got the keys and opened the lock box.

Combing through the wreckage

Holding out, holding on

Combing through the wreckage

Combing through the wreckage

“Joel, you wanna take a picture or something?” Tommy calls upstairs, startling Joel as he looked at the gun. He barked a no. Joel didn’t need a reminder every day of how he failed Sarah, how his one fucking job was to keep her alive and he couldn’t do that. He was a failure, and without Sarah there was no point.

There was no point.

Oh, visited by thoughts and not just in the night

That I no longer give a fuck who is wrong and who's right

This game of winner takes all and all means nothing left

Spoils go the victor and the other left for dead

Joel took the gun to Sarah’s room. If his home hurt, the pain he felt in here was unbearable. Purple was everywhere, her favorite color. Her bed was unmade, because it never was. He traced fingers over the pictures on her walls, her with her friend, with im, with Tommy. He looked around the room. She was everywhere and nowhere. Tears burned in his eyes, and he didn’t hesitate to let them fall again. Half done homework. When would this have been due? He didn’t know because he didn’t ask. A hair bonnet on the bed stand with some vampire book. The cover looked suggestive, was she old enough to be reading it? Joel knew so little, he was realizing. Did he know too little? It didn’t matter now. All those failures collided into that moment one last night, the moment he lived over and over again. The moment that would be his last thought.  

Combing through the wreckage

Holding out, holding on

Combing through the wreckage

He was taught to believe suicide meant going to hell, but Joel couldn’t fathom that. If there was a God out there, and Joel believed there was, Joel would pay his dues in purgatory and then go on to heaven. If there wasn’t a God, he would just be at peace. 

Either was better than this world without Sarah

Combing through the wreckage

Joel laid down on her bed, smelling her hair products on the silk pillow. 

He raised the gun to his head.

“I’m coming, baby girl.”

Holding out, holding on

Holding out

Holding in

Holding on

Combing through the wreckage

“Joel?”

He flinched. It was a flash of a thought at he pulled the trigger. Tommy. 

The gun went off, grazing his head.

Holding on (combing through the wreckage)

Holding on, oh (combing through the wreckage)

Holding on (combing through the wreckage)

It was unbearable.

When the gun went up, Tommy screamed Joel’s name, running upstairs to find his big brother bleeding out on his niece's bed, and there must have been a moment when Tommy thought Joel was dead.

The pain in his head wasn’t what hurt so bad, it was the pain of Tommy seeing him like this, of being so vulnerable, of having to have the person he should be protecting worrying about him. It was the pain of Sarah’s death. It was the pain of every failure that mounted in his house.

Joel began to scream. He wasn’t sure when it started or when it stopped, but as Tommy sat on the bed and pulled Joel into his arms he screamed.

Falling through the wreckage

“I need you, Joel!” Tommy shouted, frantic as he held gauze to Joel’s head. “You don’t get to leave me! You don’t get to do this!” Tommy was crying too.

But he was right.

Crawling through the wreckage

He had to take care of Tommy. Tommy had to live. Joel had always watched out for his brother, raised him, protected him, made sure he was fed when their dad was passed out drunk and their mom was out late with ‘friends’. Joel had to keep him alive. He failed Sarah, he couldn’t fail Tommy too. 

Joel would lock everything away. He’d push away it all, he’d shove down every feeling about Sarah. He didn’t want a picture, wasn’t going to think of her every day when he had to focus on Tommy.

He looked down at his wrist. When he went to go unlatch it, leave it in the house… but he couldn’t. In that moment, removing the watch would be like removing her again. He decided to keep it. A watch was useful, right?

One reminder. A reminder of what he lost so he remembered to do better for Tommy.

Everywhere, and nowhere at all.

Combing through the wreckage

As they stepped out of the house, the cul de sac seemed far too bright and sunny for the occasion. Too nice. Too happy. But it didn’t matter, Joel reminded himself. He looked at his brother, the younger man’s face seeming aged 10 years in one night. Joel found a new sense of hope.

He’d live for Tommy, he’d keep his family alive. Save who he can.

It didn’t matter what Joel had to do to do it.

*************

Thank you so, so, so much for reading and giving this a chance even though it's not a x reader. I appriciate each and every bit of love you all give.

2 more Joel WIPS to clear out before i excit this fandom

I hope yall give the song a listen, i cried listening to it while writing.

tagging those who might like but dont feel presured!!! i know it cn be triggering

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @miraclesabound @jennaispunk

[maybege]

Pleasure

Summary: You get dared by your old school friends to ask a stranger to play with your tits.

Pairing: dad’s friend!Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4.1k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, older man/younger woman, implied age gap, alcohol consumption, sex with strangers, coming untouched, semi-public intimacy, dom!Boba, sub!Reader, nipple play, dirty talk, little bit of humiliation, Reader is not described but it is mentioned that she does not wear a bra at some point

Alrighty, alrighty. Okay, alright. Are we ready? Like are we really, truly, ready for this? This is obviously set in the dad’s friend!Boba AU which is more of a sandbox AU for me to play in. This is their first meeting (obv) and it is based on another idea I had and I thought it would fit perfectly. Please do let me know what you think and if you like it and if so, what you liked and all that good stuff! Maybe I will write another part or another story set in this AU.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

A year ago, you had never thought you would drown your sorrows at a house party of a person whose name you did not even know in the town you had grown up in with people you had not seen since high school. But here you were, drowning out your disappointment, your sadness and your frustration by the way of loud techno beats and unnaturally coloured alcohol.

“All right,” Marissa passed the hot pink shots she had gotten to you and Chants, though her eyes did not leave yours, “You want a dare?”

For a second you regretted ever having asked her for a dare (“Something to liven up the party,” you had said half-jokingly after the conversation with your two oldest high school friends had come to an awkwardly silent end) but then you also remembered the fun time you had with them in your childhood bedroom, prank calling the neighbours before playing fuck marry killer with the seniors at school.

That was an eternity ago now but it had all seemed to light then. Your happiness did not have an expiration date then and the dream to make it out of your small town by the lake and into the big cities of the opposite coast had kept you company every night.

You hadn’t known yet that your dream would fail.

“Ask any random person here to play with your tits.”

Her voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your face must have shown your shock at the task because her pink-coloured lips (a perfect match to her equally pink hair) pulled up in a mischievous grin. Marissa always had been the joker of your group, you should have known better than to think that the years would have changed anything about that.

“Marissa!” Chants gasped, “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, calm down,” she waved him off, “It’s not like she has to do it. But we're in a house full of strangers and stars know it's been ages since you got laid” – you hated how right she was about that – “So let’s not pretend like I'm not doing you a favour.”

“I’ll do it,” you heard yourself say, steel in your voice as you threw back the sickly sweet drink. There was nothing worse than the artificial strawberry flavour.

“It’s not like I know anyone here anyway,” you stated, looking around the giant living room you were standing in. The villa (because there was no other word to describe the building you were in) was absolutely packed with what seemed to be the entire party population of your town and the few surrounding beach towns as well. It was all stark white walls and cement floors and floor-length windows and furniture that looked more like art than actually something to sit on. Only the colourful lights and (several) mirror balls hued the entire space in ever-changing colours.

No wonder whoever lived here threw all these parties. The place must seem pretty depressing otherwise.

With encouraging whoop whoop!s and You can do it!s you left Marissa and Chants behind and wandered through the dancing, yelling, drinking crowd that took up the entire ground floor. Until you spotted a figure leaning against one of the doorways to the stairway.

Your feet changed your course until you stood in front of him. He was older than you, though certainly not the oldest guest in attendance. (That would be Chants’ 94-year-old grandmother who had a reputation for attending the best raves in the province.)

But what struck you most was how unbothered he looked. How in control. He was dressed in dark pants and a black button-up, his sleeves were rolled up too, revealing strong veiny forearms that had your eyes lingering longer than they should have. He held a glass in his hand and when his eyes landed on you, making your way towards him, you imagined that his grip twitched just the slightest bit.  

“Hi,” you said when you finally stood in front of him.

The main raised his eyebrows, “You lost there?”

You pressed your shoulders back, “No. You are the one

His lips lifted in a smirk and it took our breath away for a moment, how handsome he was, and your courage faltered. But you

“My friend dared me to ask someone to play with my tits.”

If your words caught him off guard, the man did not show it.

“So?” he smiled before taking a sip from the amber liquid, “That wasn’t a question.”

Was he really going to make you say it? Your ears burned with shame and something else as you looked at him. But he simply cocked his head as if to say I am waiting. And you somehow found that this was not a man you wanted to leave waiting.

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “Will you play with my tits?”

“No,” he said easily and finished his drink, “Congratulations, your dare is fulfilled.”

He turned to leave and you surprised yourself when your hand landed on his thick arm. He froze, as did you, and when his eyes met yours, it felt like a switch flipped in your head.

“No, wait, I –“ you paused, “I actually want it.”

His body faced yours again and stars was he broad as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Stars what are you doing, trying to convince a man to touch you.”

“Ask me again, then, little one,” he rumbled and the pet name had your belly fluttering. Though maybe it was not your belly, maybe it was something else …  

“Will you play with my tits, please?” you added the last word quietly, your pulse thrumming as you avoided his eyes. The bass reverberated in your chest and you tried to even out your breathing. This was fine. Everything was fine.

For the first time since you started talking, his eyes left your face and roamed down your body. Over your tight jeans and the loose but not quite opaque top you had chosen to wear. You found yourself wanting to impress him, wanting to please him and you were almost completely sure he would reject you again when he opened his mouth.

“You really want that?”

You nodded, too shy, too embarrassed to say anything more. It had been ages since you had been touched and something about the way he held himself made you feel like he knew how to touch you.

“Good,” he rumbled, his voice dropping even lower and causing a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You watched as he set his glass down on the side table, “But not here out in the open.”

“No,” you shook your head, agreeing with him, though you were a little scared to admit that you would have let him. You would have let him pull you into a corner somewhere and strip you down to nothing and do anything he wanted to you. You would have let him expose you however he saw fit.

Stars, I really need to get laid.

The man brought his hand around you, settling it on your lower back as he led you away from the improvised dance floor. There were throngs of people everywhere but they grew sparser the higher up the stairs he led you. Until you arrived in a hallway that was completely abandoned save for a couple that seemed too busy to make out to notice you. And then he continues, leading you around a corner and suddenly you were alone and the lights were dim and the music only a muted sound in the background.

“Do you live here?” you asked, nervously looking around. What if someone caught you?

“No,” he said, his voice calm as his hand landed on your hip, “but I know the owner. No one will disturb us here.”

You nodded and took another deep breath. That sounded good. That sounded safe.  

“Do you still want this?

It but you were grateful. You nodded, your heart racing. And your pussy too.

“I need to hear words, little one,” he said with a crooked smile, still not touching you save for the hand on your hip that seemed to burn through the layers of clothes.

“Yes, I still want this.”

“Want what?”

Oh, now he was just teasing you!

“I want you to play with my tits, please.”

Shame and arousal had your cheeks burning but it was worth it when he hummed, his hand inching under the hem of your shirt. “Good girl.”

Oh.

Oh, that was new. That was lovely. That was something that had your eyes flutter and your pussy get surprisingly wet.

“You liked that,” he grunted, “You like praise.”

It was not a question and so you did not answer. The wet patch in your panties that grew by the second was answer enough. Though you could not shake the feeling that he liked you liking praise. Which made it all the better.

“Lift your shirt for me,” he instructed, tongue running over his lips, “You wear a bra?”

You nodded, your hands trembling as you lifted the soft fabric of your favourite going-out blouse. It was black and just the lightest bit sheer and breezy which made it the perfect sexy thing to wear in the warmer temperatures. The air wasn’t cold – it was the height of summer after all – but your nipples pebbled, still, beneath the lace of your bra.

Big hands reached for your tits, cupping them in his palms before lightly squeezing. His touches were softer, first, before they grew firm and had you squirming against the wall. Your breath got quicker already as you thought about the fact that you did not even know this man and he had you half-naked in the corridor of another stranger’s home.

A year ago, you never would have done something like that.

“Wh-What are you doing?” you whined when he still only squeezed your tits, his fingers gently digging into the soft flesh, “Why aren’t you touching me?”

“You asked me to play with your tits,” he replied steadily, his thumb rubbing over the lace that covered your nipple, “That is exactly what I am doing. Playing with your pretty tits.”

“Don’t you want me to take off my shirt?” you asked, confusion clear in your voice as you tried to shift your hands over your shoulders.

“Nah, little one,” he shook his head, a smile on his lips that made your breath hitch, “You are going to hold up your shirt for me. You want me to play with your tits, you got to do something for that, right?”

You nodded, chest heaving as you leaned your head back against the wall. “Right.”

The older man continued his ministrations, gently massaging your tits, pushing and pulling, making them bounce, teasing your nipples through the lace with the pads of his thumbs or his blunt fingernails. You had never been this turned on in your life.

His finger teased under the scalloped edge of your bra, the touch of his bare skin on yours driving you insane.

When he finally pulled down the cups of your bra, baring you to his eyes, you could have wept from relief. “Arch your back for me,” he murmured, sounding so focused and so in control. You did, doing your best to get your chest closer to his hands.

There was no shame now, now apprehension about what you were doing. This man seemed to know exactly what he was doing and you could not help but trust him.

“You have beautiful tits, you know that?” he asked casually as his fingers rolled your nipples, sending little pangs of pleasure through your entire body, “When was the last time somebody properly paid attention to you, hm?”

Too long ago.

And that was what you told him but he pulled your nipples sharply, “Specifics,” he instructed you lowly as you tried to keep your knees from buckling at the sheer sensation this man caused in you.

“Few – few months,” you tried to think feverishly, “Se-seven months. No, nine months.”

“Nine months,” he tsked, his thumb flicking over your pebbled nipple, “What a shame. What a waste. You deserve to have

Not knowing what to say to that, you simply leant into his touch. He expertly rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger before pulling on it ever so slightly, making you whimper. The mix of gentle and rough had you dizzy and wet and you swore none of your eyes had ever made you feel this way.

Stars you did not even know you could feel this way.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” he asked.

Your eyes flew open and you looked at him in surprise. But the older man simply returned your gaze, never pausing in his ministrations and he seemed serious in his questions. He really wanted to touch you more.

 “Yes, please,” you nodded feebly, as if the way you were melting in his hands was not answer enough.

“Good girl,” he praised you again, a smirk on his face, “So polite.”

You squirmed, pressing your thighs together to get some sort of friction to your aching clit. He lowered his head to your chest, his warm breath washing over your skin and you whined, needing him more and more. But he did not let himself be rushed, no. His finger pulled on your nipple again until your whine turned into a gasp. Only then did he let you go and carefully closed his mouth around you. He sucked on you, ever so gently, with just a hint of teeth scraping over the sensitive flesh and you swore your vision went white for just a moment.

He must have noticed the way your entire body spasmed just for him because he pulled away, a glint in his eyes that told you he was far from done with you.

“I wonder if I can make you come just from this,” he murmured against your chest, “Just playing with you until your gorgeous pussy drips all on her own,” he lightly sucked on your nipple, “You want me to try?”

Speaking seemed like the last thing you would be capable of so you nodded, your heavy breaths echoing in the dark hallway.  

“Answer me with words, little one,” he admonished you, pinching your nipple tightly and another wave of wetness rushed down your legs. You wouldn’t be able to sit down anywhere today without leaving a wet patch, that was for sure.

“Yes,” you gasped out, “Please make me come.”

“With pleasure,” he grinned, “You just lean back and keep holding up your shirt for me, yeah? I will take care of the rest.”

And he did. He licked and sucked and pinched until you were a dripping, moaning mess. Your hips had a mind of their own as you started to move against him, trying to grind against the considerable bulge in his pants that had your mouth watering, but his hand was strong on your hip, pinning you back against the wall.

“You are going to come only from this,” he instructed darkly and you nodded. The yes sir almost slipping out of you. You felt like you were on cloud nine, floating above everyone and everything. The dim light, the loud bass that echoed throughout the house, hell, even the sound of partying people two stories below – it all added to the thrill of this stranger sucking on your tit while rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

It felt like you could not breathe, like your whole body was pulled taut with pleasure and he was the only one who could release you. Who could give you release.

“You are such a good girl for me,” he grunted in your ear, “I wish you could see yourself. Absolutely depraved right now. Presenting your tits for a man you don’t know anything about except that he is the one that is going to make you come.”

“I know you would have let me do this downstairs, too,” he added, “But here's the thing: I don’t share. And I don’t think any of these boys even deserve the sight of your pretty tits like this, now, do they?”

You shook your head. “Only you,” you mumbled feverishly, your fingers tightening their grip on the fabric, “Only you, sir.”

His groan was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. “That’s right,” he pressed a hard kiss against your neck, “Only I see you like this. Only I get to see how pretty you look when you come from this.”

For a moment, you debated telling him that you did not think you would come. That you were so turned on – more than ever before – and that what he did felt great but you were not sure if it would actually make you come. But then he bit down on your nipple and pulled the other one and your whole world reeled.

You came. You actually came.

And you did not stop coming for what felt like a solid two minutes. You were shaking, gasping, and at some point, you must have let go of your shirt because you were gripping his broad shoulders with all of your might as if they anchored you to gravity.

“Holy shit,” you brought out when you finally regained control of everything, “Holy fucking shit.”

The stranger had let go of your tits. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a hug. Strange enough, this felt way more intimate than what you had done before but you could not bring yourself to worry. Not when he smelled so good and the post-orgasm fatigue set in.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised you, his eyes soft and warm as he looked you over, “Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded weakly and he pressed a kiss to your cheek before pulling away. You were still completely out of breath and your pussy pulsed when you saw him adjusting himself in his slacks. You wanted to touch him.

You wanted to be touched by him.

But you were scared, too. Shocked, mostly. At what you had just done. Had you really let a stranger just make you come in a house full of people?

“Let's get you some water,” he murmured as he helped you straighten out your clothes, “And then off to your friends you go.”

You nodded numbly, legs shaking and still unsteady on your feet. But he helped you, one hand on your lower back and the other supporting your arm as you made your way down the stairs. The louder the music got, the more you felt like you had just returned to reality from some sort of dream. Some perfect, delicious, very hot dream.

Returning to the living room turned dance floor, neither of you spoke and you simply accepted the glass of cool water he got you. “Drink it,” he instructed you softly, “And make sure you get home safe tonight.”

When you found Marissa and Chants again, you were still torn between pure shock at what you had just done and grief at not having asked him for his name.

*

Your nipples were sore the next day but you still would have done anything to have that man play with you again. Maybe you could have asked him to spend the night at his place, letting him fuck you seven ways ‘till Sunday. If he had made you come this hard just from playing with your chest, you wanted to find out what he could do if he had you all to himself for a whole night.

Still, you stayed in bed until well past noon, trying to avoid the reality that had seemed to be suspended for just a moment last night.  

It was unlike you and, to be honest, you were a little scared of your forwardness. Of your courage. But it had been rewarded in the best ways and finally, it felt like maybe you really could start fresh. Like maybe this was the moment you needed to gain back the trust in yourself.

You could do things!

You did not have to have everything figured out right now, you just needed the courage to somehow move forward.

And if you could ask a stranger for intimacy at a party, then moving forward seemed like no effort at all.

You skipped a bra, not wanting to subject your chest to more sensation than necessary, and instead opted for a long flowy summer dress and a light cardigan over top. It would give you some coverage, still, so it would not be awkward for your sister’s fiancée to face you.

Looking in the mirror, you felt like your new self. Like maybe you had needed yesterday to get back some of your courage, some of the spirit that had made the past year so fun before everything had just crumbled around you.

“Oh honey, there you are,” your mother greeted you as you came down the stairs, “You came home late last night. Was it a good party, then?”

You knew she was worried and you knew she tried her best to give you the privacy you needed. After all, you weren’t a child anymore. You were a grown woman who had to move back to her parents across the country after losing her job. It was an unfamiliar situation for you all and you appreciated her effort at making you feel like a roommate more than a child.

“It was,” you replied, grabbing a slice of fruit, “It was nice seeing some people from school again. It is like nothing changed.”

“Oh, you and your change,” she tutted good-naturedly, swatting your hand away as you reached for another slice of orange, “That’s for after lunch. It's almost ready.”

You glanced at the clock. “That’s early.”

“Your father has some friends over,” she explained, “From work. They’re going golfing this afternoon so I thought that is the perfect opportunity for an early lunch.”

Thank the stars for your father and his friends because you were starving.

“Go and say hi, honey,” she shooed you out of the kitchen and you smiled, your bare feet hitting the cold tiles of the hallway, “And you can tell them to set the table.”

You found your dad and his friends on the patio, soaking up the warm summer air.

“There you are, hon,” he greeted you with a smile and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hi, dad. Mom says lunch’s almost ready.”

“Ah,” he slapped his palms on his thighs before standing up, “You know what that means, boys! Time to set the table.”

One of your dad’s friends stood up. George, you remembered. He had lived down the street ever since you could remember and his kids were good friends with your sister. “It's been ages,” he said, a genuine smile on his face. “Look at how you’ve grown!”

You were pretty sure you hadn’t changed that much since graduating college but you were not about to correct him. He meant well, you knew.  

Your father paused, “Oh I am sorry. Everyone, this is my eldest daughter, fresh back from the other end of the world.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not the end of the world,” you corrected him gently, “Just the other side of the country.”

And what wouldn’t you give to be back there right now.

The men all chuckled and you paused when you heard a familiar voice. You ran your eyes over the mostly familiar faces, faces you had known since childhood or at least from the pictures your parents posted regularly on Facebook. Faintly you could hear your dad introduce them all again – George from accounting, of course, then there was Paul and Obi-Wan and James (an absolute perv as you and your sister had determined years ago) and not to forget Bail Organa.

But it was the newest face, the face that was supposed to be unfamiliar, that made your heart freeze for a scary few seconds before it started racing so fast you thought you might throw up.

“Boba Fett,” he said, holding out an all too familiar hand. A hand that had spent considerable time playing with your tits just last night.

“Boba is the CFO after the merger,” your dad introduced the man, “Recently moved here from – where was it again, Boba?”

“Tatooine,” he replied without taking his eyes off you.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you heard yourself say, his hand closing around yours. His grip was gentle but firm. And warm. You could feel the callouses on his fingertips, the ones that had made him playing with you so fucking delicious. Your nipples hardened under the soft fabric of your dress and you prayed that he did not notice.

“Believe me,” he smiled, though his eyes said so much more than the usual pleasantries when they fell to your chest for a fraction of a second, “The pleasure is all mine.”

[estro-gem]

Jax x Ragatha: The snake and the water spring

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis.

Author's note: I found this show by chance and I took a great liking to it! So now I did a thing, instead of studying for upcoming exams, because I love making things difficult for myself, apparently.

I have no idea what the fandom is like, but I'm playing it safe just to be... well... safe. I just loved the concept of this show so much that I couldn't help but be inspired by it! It got me thinking and I let it all out in this... thing.

I want to write more one-shot fics about the other characters and how they fit into this au too, but I don't know when I'll be able to.

WARNING! None of these characters are mine and everything mentioned and described is purely made-up fiction; inspired by works that are not my own. Nothing should be considered canon or taken seriously - we are all here to have some harmless fun! No age restrictions. I think this might be appropriate for all ages...?

Please show some love and support for Gooseworx; the creator of The Amazing Digital Circus!

I definitely butchered Gooseworx's characters by adding unnecessary 'relationship dynamics' and deviating from their original personalities. I promise that the actual show and characters are so much better than they are in my false portrayal of them.

SUMMARY:

A fanmade take on the events following Pomni's arrival and after the crew had dinner together. This is focused on Jax's point of view, but still written in the third person.

Jax confronts Ragatha after the pilot episode's 'dinner' and does his best to comfort her in a way that works for them. That's it.

Please enjoy!

THE SNAKE AND THE WATER SPRING

Jax was a desert snake.

Nothing but a cold-blooded pest that lived to find his next meal.

When one is left to die under the scorching sun, you can’t stomp on the sun for creating a desert, but you could stomp on the desert snake if it added to the pain of surviving in said desert. The Digital Realm was nothing but a desert sun – a cage with no exit and an evil with no target.

It was no secret why so many had lost their minds here.

Jax took on the role of being the snake. It was never announced or planned, but it was deemed necessary by all who came to know the realm. The inhabitants of The Amazing Digital Circus craved any sense of control; something they could hold accountable for their torment – something they could punish. A menace, parasite.

Evil with a target: Jax.

It was fun to act out while everybody went about their lives. He could unapologetically be the worst being known to man and thrive on the rage and hatred of all he had affected. If they hated him, he was fulfilling his role perfectly… and that meant they could stay sane and do their parts as he did his. Less people would be lost to insanity… and the group would grow stronger.

Everyone had a role in their system – an oasis was established, with Ragatha as the heart of the oasis; their very own water spring.

But when a new invading creature bursts into the oasis with no knowledge of this system, their system would be doomed. Pomni happened to be that invader. Everyone could collectively, yet silently agree that she was acting by her own careless devices since she arrived a few hours ago. She greedily soaked up their water source and left it barren, dry, and suffering.

Granted, Pomni didn’t know how their oasis worked, but it didn’t change the fact that she disrupted everything by showing up. She would have to catch on quickly and prove herself useful, before anyone else loses their minds.

They lost one of their own already… and they almost lost their beloved Ragatha; Jax’s equal and opposite.

Their precious water source.

Snakes offered venom, while water springs offered hope of life. They all desperately needed Ragatha to survive. While most would assume her to be fine after being fixed by Caine, Jax knew better than that. He saw her reluctantly stand aside Pomni to support her – beautifully acting within her role as she always would, but it was clear that Pomni still didn’t understand how scarce the water was by then. Rags was spread thin enough by handling the extra stress and enduring the continuous pain of being corrupted by the abstraction, but that didn’t stop Pomni from practically having a mental breakdown at the dinner table.

Jax saw that coming from a mile away. Thank goodness he silently took the open seat next to Pomni, silent in his insistence that the ragdoll should keep her distance for the time being. He’d give anything to destroy the little jester for abusing his doll. Ragatha was acting perfectly normal at the time – her masked smile perfectly set on her face – until it was time for them all to retire to their respective bedrooms.

Jax wished that he would’ve just dragged her after him when he booked it from the abstraction earlier today. Pomni would have been the perfect distraction for them to escape and get Caine.

He stood at Ragatha’s door after dinner.

Jax made a point to ring the doorbell this time. Usually, he’d just pluck out a key and saunter in like he owns the place, but with what happened today, he’d make an exception. Everyone has their limit – and someone has already reached their limit today. They couldn’t risk losing another one. Especially not Raggs. They all really needed her.

When she didn’t open, he tried the bell again. Nothing.

Well, time for the key, then.

He shoved his hand down his front pocket and fished out the doll’s room key. The bunny didn’t waste time opening the door. He wanted to see what state the girl was in, despite dreading the possibility of finding an abstracted amalgamation on the other side.

Silence.

Not even a creak was heard from the hallway. The room was lit up as it usually was, so that was a good sign, at least. Jax couldn’t see an obvious black body of eyes – another win. But where was Ragatha? He did see her walk into her room, so she had to be here.

He walked around, keeping his cool, casual composure fixed, despite no one being around. It was effortless at this point. It became a way for him to focus on what he could control in this crazy digital prison; himself.

He couldn’t, however, control his ability to spot a blasted ragdoll, it would seem. He scanned the room again, until his eyes fell on her ¾ bed. Could she-?

The bunny rolled his eyes at himself as he lowered himself onto his knees – maybe he could convince himself that he was not phased by the situation. Bending down, he peered beneath the bed frame.

Jax sighed in exasperation. Or was it relief? Both?

Ragatha was in the state she was in before retiring to her room. No gliching, no extra eyes.

Just Raggs.

She didn’t look good, though. The doll was curled up beneath her bed and blindly staring ahead of her. It didn’t look like she was breathing – not that they needed to anyway, but it was uncanny to see Rags like this. She was their voice of reason. She was a water spring in this desert.

If she dried up, their desert would be doomed.

Jax silently stood up and walked back to the open door again. No need to make a fuss over this. He took hold of the door handle and shut it from the inside. Key in hand, he locked the door and nodded to himself. Ragatha needed a raincloud… and he’d have to fill that role now. It’s the least he could do after leaving her to fend for herself when they found the abstraction today.

Why didn’t she run with him? Why did think she could fix someone whose mind was broken beyond repair? Why didn’t she just leave the rookie as bait?

Because that just wasn’t her role, was it?

If it weren’t for her nature – her role – none of them would have made it this far. It dawned on Jax, once again, how close they were to losing their beloved doll. How close they were to being stuck with an invader who knew nothing about what it took to survive in this hell hole.

Enough.

Back to the bed, crouched down and silent Jax positioned himself to lay down and simply look over the red head from a relative distance. There was enough space for the doll to crawl out of hiding without having to touch him. The bunny still hadn’t said a word. It’d be stupid to talk, and he didn’t feel like making the effort. He just wanted things back to normal again – well… as normal as it could have been.

Now Kaufmo is gone, a new creature was invading their home, tearing it up from the roots and tipping the delicate scales of the balance they worked very hard on creating. All because of a lunatic ringmaster having the bright idea of creating a fake exit-door. Someone better get that jester on a tight leash to get her to fall in line, like the rest of them were forced to.

He knew he, for one, wouldn’t mind roughing her up a bit. It was his specialty – his role. The parasite. The menace. The instigator.

Evil with an actual target.

The sound of shifting and movement had Jax blink out of his own head. Ragatha was slowly and dumbly making her way out from under her bed. Her eyes were still fogged over and her face still eerily blank, but at least she came out of hiding out of her own will. In a matter of seconds, the doll was out from her hiding place and settled on the floor beside Jax. She was staring him in the eyes now, waiting for the bunny, silently pleading.

Jax hadn’t had his aloof-douchebag persona engaged since he locked Ragatha’s door. She didn’t need a menace now – she needed to be grounded; revitalized. She needed a dark raincloud to fill up the water spring they all needed.

He didn’t look forward to what needed to be done, but he wouldn’t allow anyone else to do it.

He moved to stand up and held out a hand to help her up. He took note of the way her hand was shaking when she took his and gently guided her to the bed. The red head was the first to sit, then moved to lay down on her back and numbly stare at the ceiling. With a deep breath, Jax gathered himself mentally and cautiously crept onto the bed and positioned himself to briefly hover over her, before lowering his full weight onto Ragatha.

He had his head in the crook of her neck, on the left shoulder with his ears folding back to floppily droop to his upper back… with his left hand resting on the opposite shoulder. His body, although slim, enveloped hers and caused her to sink slightly into the mattress. His legs just loosely laid over and aside the ragdoll’s. It was more important to have his weight resting on her torso anyway.

For a long moment, they just motionlessly laid on the bed like this. To an outsider, it would look like they fell asleep atop each other or simply cuddled together very closely.

An outsider wouldn’t see that Jax was focused on the slow process of Ragatha’s body relaxing under his weight and her breathing slowing to a regular rhythm. An outsider wouldn’t have known that this was hardly the first time they’d done this – how long it took Jax to learn that this make-shift deep-pressure therapy was the most effective grounding technique for Ragatha to collect herself again.

They wouldn’t understand that Jax didn’t do this out of wanting to, but rather out of necessity.

Jax didn’t like to be touched. If anything, he was very capable of merely tolerating it. Everyone in the circus knew that he was touch-averse; some even used that as leverage to mess with him if the situation called for it. It was a necessity that he endured to keep his doll sane – to keep anyone of importance here in the circus, sane. Their whole lives revolved around mental strength. It was all just a matter of staying sane.

The laid there for what felt like a lifetime.

Slight shifting beside Jax alerted him that the doll was moving her arms – previously stiffly pinned to her sides. This was good, she felt comfortable enough to move around now!

Her left hand gently snaked up to the bunny’s head and slowly, softly petted his ears in a longitude motion. Her right hand wrapped loosely around his middle-to-lower back – motionless. This was bad, Jax did not like being touched like that!

While he was fine with the rhythmic touches of Ragatha’s left hand, he despised the idle position of the right hand resting on his back. He couldn’t prevent himself from tensing up in discomfort.

Bad touch, bad touch, bad-

This caused the ragdoll to tense up and rip her hands off him as if he burned her.

Oh no you don’t! We are not starting all over again.

He slowly pulls away and propped up unto his elbows, hearing Ragatha’s breathing pick up as she presumably spirals into her own thoughts on how he was going to leave her like this. Jax cast down a disapproving look. He broke his gaze to unceremoniously take her right hand – now clutched close to her chest – and intertwined their fingers, before resting his head on her left shoulder once again. He close eyes as he use his free hand to put her left hand on his head again, waiting for her to resume her petting.

Good touch; this was a good touch. Please understand.

Thankfully, Ragatha relaxed… and continued her previous slow, rhythmic motions. Slowly, Jax felt her relax once again and he indulged into her need for touch by stroking his thumb over hers occasionally.

Soon they fell into a rhythm; Ragatha would pet Jax’s ears 3 times, then it was his turn to stroke his thumb over hers. Then they would repeat the routine. This also helped Jax cope with the touching; the routine. The rhythm.

It felt like hours ticked by as the two just practiced their little unspoken routine. Jax grew used to it after a while, almost forgetting that his new mattress was now a sentient ragdoll and completely tuned into their rhythm of touches.

Pet… pet… pet… thumb. Pet… pet… pet… thumb.

Jax didn’t like touch, but he loved routine.

The doll and the bunny’s time together, once nothing but grounding techniques, grew to become an intimate exchange of touches and caresses – all wrapped in a routine, like a dance. Jax felt warm and fuzzy inside; for once he basked in the moment of enjoying his dolly. He lazily wondered if Ragatha felt the same. He shifted his head to look at her.

The doll looked down to meet his eyes when she felt him move. He could swear that she looked at peace, basking in the bliss of their closeness. For some reason, she looked like an angel. They all saw her as their angel. Had he successfully pinned a heavenly body beneath him?

Her gentle, longing gaze made a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt from his core.

This wasn’t the first time this feeling invaded his being when they did this – as rare as these moments were. He wasn’t sure when he started experiencing such feelings during these rare encounters, but as months crawled by, he felt drawn to his dolly more and more. Based on how she looked at him, he could only assume that she felt it too.

Something so foreign, yet so familiar.

He didn’t fail to spot the warmth rushing to her cheeks when their eyes met. She looked so ethereal beneath him, especially when her breathing picked up under his firm gaze. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were lidded. This time, it wasn’t fear or overstimulation. It was anticipation. It was desire.

Jax internally flinched at the tingly sensation when he smoothly burrowed his face into Ragatha’s neck. She shivered at the breath he let out against her skin. He could tolerate the touching a little longer, as long as he could see her crumble again. He wanted to see her walls crumble again.

“Jax- ”

Oh… he had to hear her again. More clearly, next time. This was torture, but she made him into her own personal masochist. His skin crawled at the sensation of her skin shivering against him, but he needed more. He could take it. Just a little longer – he just had to stand these sensations a little longer. He looked at her again.

Ragatha was reverting to a helpless puddle. The doll’s arms were gripping at the covers beneath her, successfully eliminating the bother of excessive contact that he despised. Jax didn’t know if she did it with that intension or without thinking, but either way, he was thankful. He really wanted more.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

He lifted onto his elbows again and – dare one say – lovingly looked at her face. She could only peek back at him, breathing slightly faster than usual. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shaky hand rise from the covers and hover next to his cheek, while her eyes pleaded for his mercy. He hesitated but bit the bullet to comply; leaning into her touch while desperately trying to ignore the odd tingles. Jax convinced himself to kiss her wrist and drowned himself in the pleasure of hearing her softly call his name.

He only heard it because he was listening so closely for it.

Yes.

DING DONG

In a flash, Jax braced himself up into a crouch and slammed his foot down with a mighty THUMP upon hearing Ragatha startle into a fit when the doorbell chimed. His hair on his back stood on end and his claws ripped through his gloves, leaving gouges in the covers beside the doll’s head.

His precious doll was disturbed again!

He heard her soft cry of fear and his blood boiled with a thirst for vengeance. Only he can make her cry out. He’ll skin the soul that dared to-

“Ragatha…? Can we talk?”

That DAMN jester!

“Jax?” a quiet voice trembled in his ear from beneath him. Jax stopped glaring at the door to softly glance down and see what his little doll wanted.

“Don’t…” Raggs sounded like she was begging while being held at gunpoint, whispering despite their rooms being enchanted to not hear anything from the outside when the door is shut.

Jax wouldn’t dare let that thing inside. Raggs was upset enough as it is.

“Look, I know it probably wouldn’t make a difference…” Pomni’s voice came from the other side door again, “…but I’m so sorry for running off… Again… I saw that exit and I had to see if it was real. No one else believed me and I started to think that I was losing my mind. You understand that, right?”

Jax placed both his hands down on the mattress, blocking the doll’s view of the door as if it could block the sound of the voice from reaching the Raggs’s ears, still hovering over her. He knew that his dolly didn’t want to hear anything the harlequin had to say now – he had half the mind to get up and bash the newbie’s head in.

“I hope we can talk about this some time. You are probably tired after such a long, crazy day.” Pomni’s voice died down near the end, “It feels like you’re the only good person here.”

She really is, but she’s too good for you. Selfish leech.

Jax looks down to the girl, still stiff as a board beneath him. Her eye was shiny with the swell of tears. He melted at the sight – anger simmering down. She was just a sweet little rag dolly, she didn’t deserve any of this, but oh, he was so happy to see Ragatha finally emote something again. She was OK again. Their water source was filled once again, now threatening to spill over. He’d happily welcome the flood.

He needed her.

The sound of fading footsteps causes Jax to rip his eyes to the direction of the door. His hearing was better than the dolls, probably thanks to being a rabbit.

Good riddance.

Ragatha seemed to relax at the sight of Jax deflating his stance, reading that Pomni probably left her door. She hesitantly reached up to cup Jax’s cheek. Jax followed her hand’s motion and scoffed, cringing at the invasion. He’s had enough touching for a week. It sucked to leave his doll so soon after being distressed again, but he couldn’t bring himself stand any more of this. He quickly got up and smoothed out his clothes, but not without missing the flash of hurt in the doll’s eyes. He felt bad, but he had to be strong with the new girl around, so straining himself now would only make matters worse and mess up the whole system.

Still, seemingly bored, Jax stood in his spot while rocking on his heels and looking off to the side, only sparing her a glance. Raggs sat up by then. She looked a little worse for wear, but it’s an improvement from hiding under her bed. She rested her elbows on her knees with her chin in her hands. The hurt in her eyes was long gone, but she looked tired. Poor thing, Jax shared the sentiment.

He felt her eye bore into the side of his face and the bunny couldn’t stop himself before he rolled his eyes and looked to her again. He could’ve choked on air when he saw her face, but the years of steeling his demeanor left no trace of his inner turmoil.

Raggs sported that longing look in her eyes again.

They were so close this time – closer than they’ve ever been before. Each time they spent together on nights like this, although few and far between, they grew closer… and hungrier. Neither understood what it was, but they never had the chance to just collapse into it, tonight being the closest to that.

But there was always something, right?

Jax allowed gaze to soften. His doll offered a small smile that almost ripped his heart out if his chest. It was drenched with melancholy of something she knew they could never have.

Because their roles in their little ecosystem didn’t allow for it to ever be theirs. It would never work.

This was survival.

The rabbit steeled his demeanor once again, but this time, his doll’s face didn’t fall.

Good, as it should be.

Jax walked to the door and fished out the key from his front pocket. He didn’t bother looking back. If he did, he wouldn’t have the will to leave anymore. When he opened the door, though, he couldn’t help but mumble out teasingly.

“See yah later, Doll~!”

He wished that he could shout his affections for her out into the void instead.

“I’m not your doll.” Ragatha responded, voice still wobbly and tired, but perky regardless. She knew just how to indulge him.

Yes, she is… she always will be.

Fanart: Evil with a target

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

[beiasluv]

Hiii! Love your writing! I was wondering if you can write a cute avatar fic with the reader is human and lo’ak or netayam falling in love with reader and always checking on her like checking if her mask is on properly and stuff. Thank youuuu 🥰🥰🥰

lo’ak x human!reader

a/n: YES PLEASE, I WANNA WRITE FOR LO’AK / enjoy 🤍

masterlist

being one of those babies who got left on pandora has its pro’s and con’s

pro’s, you get to spend time on this excellent planet, instead of the crusty dusty earth.

con’s, it gets quite lonely.

you imagine it couldn’t get worst; until your human friend, spider, wandered out of the lab for the first time. not being of the age yet, you were basically left behind by him.

for the first few times, you felt isolated and lonely in the lab. you started to recognize how weird the lab actually is, how quiet it gets during the day and night, how the pandora plants glowed in the dark, and different tools wiring around the lab

spider, being a good friend he is, never visited the lab, unless he is terribly hungry. which, he crammed a lot of stuff into his mouth, and without a glance, he’s off into the forest.

well, you always like to babble to grace since you were a baby. now, she’s your only candle burning. it felt weird at first, but who is there to actually care? none, you can talk none sense all day long.

grace twitches sometimes to your blabbing but non other than that. crazy as it might sound, it gave you a little hope that she was listing to your heart and soul.

until one day, spider brought some visitors.

he introduced you to kiri and lo’ak. your breath was taken away by the resemblance of kiri to grace, it was like eywa responded to your prayer for a friend. kiri connected to you immediately like you’ve known each other for so long. well, she’s glad that at least there is another girl alive.

the other visitor gave you a lingered look on your small frame and your face

you didn’t say anything but a lump in your throat started to form. had to excuse yourself out of the room to catch some breath, but faith isn’t quite on your side, or is it?

“hey, i saw you back there, are you okay?” he crouched down held your shoulder questioning.

“i- i am fine, thank you.”

“by the way, i’m lo’ak, nice to meet you,” he held out his blue giant hand.

“i’m y/n,” you reached out for his hand, which it engulfed your tiny hand in it, spreading the coldness against your skin.

lo’ak was definitely screaming internally how small your hand was compared to his. on that moment, unknowingly, he made a vow to protect you and swear with his life on it.

“your face is getting hot, are you okay?” you cubbed his reddened face in your tiny hands.

flustered lo’ak entered the chat

now, that was about 5 years ago. lo’ak was still a baby (even though he was bigger than you, but anyways) you guys were still 13 years old. until these past few years, puberty hit him like a BUS

he had grown taller, obviously, and more muscly. his chubby face grew some sharp angles, contrasting to his soft pouty lips

your frame had changed as well. you’ve grew more comfortable in your own flesh and body, which lo’ak definitely noticed.

he just loves how tiny you are (compared to him) and how easily he can crush your bone in his hand. hell yeah, he can even lift you off the ground with one hand. it made him even more determined to protect you from everything this planet had to offer

you guys didn’t grew only physically, but also emotionally. your souls bonded and fitted together perfectly like a piece that was missing from each other.

one day, lo’ak decided to took an action and asked you to be his partner, and he did it the sweetest way possible.

that whole day, i can guarantee that you guys barely had a moment where you skins are not touching each other. he lovesss staying close to you, especially that special day.

when you agreed to finally leave the lab, he was so thrilled. to the point that he never leave your side like you are a baby 🥺

“got your mask?” he caressed your face.

“yep.”

“oxy- oxygen tank?”

“yep.”

“good girl,” 😳 he petted your hair. “let’s go,” without a second word you are hurled up against his back.

always carrying you arounddddd. when you say you can walk yourself he would be like: “noooo, sweetheart, you will hurt your feet, let me carry you.”

if you say he’ll get tired he’ll say that he’ll never get tired of you, plus you fitted perfectly in his embrace. AHEM, just another excuse to hold you close.

of course, he loves to change up the position around. his favorite is bridal style, cuz who doesn’t love seeing your face every time he looks down. plus, he can feel your hands around his neck and your breath against his chest.

your favorite have to be piggy back, ALL THE WAY. you love holding your body against his back. plus, teasing him by kissing his neck is so funny. he’ll tremble in your touch and his purrs will slip out 😳

if you are flying together, he will be super extra EXTRA careful for you, like wrapping an arm around your waist smth like that 😩

will and definitely have a safe word with you. if he gets too extreme sometimes, you’ll have to pull him back (you dirty minded, guys, i was talking about like jumping off a clif or smth 😳)

but you rarely have to use the safe word because he is super caring for youu

he knows how your much your human body can take and will be super acknowledging towards that. if you are tired, he will immediately drop everything and hold you close so you can have a nappy time 🥺

made it as his habit to always carry around an extra mask, in case sometime goes wrong

buttt his favorite of all time would be touching your skin and hands

it brings comfort to him when he knows that he isn’t the only one with five fingers in the family. well, yes, his dad might have them, but he never really acknowledged the judgment from others. people respected him, lo’ak just wanted a simpler life like his dad’s.

your babyboy is sad, so you will do something. every night, he will be showered with comforting and reassuring words. holding his hand and emphasizing on his pinkie, you will kiss them one by one. intertwining them as if you will never take them off.

“see, we have the same pinkie, and these fingers are special. you are special to me, lo’ak.”

we all know that in that moment he wanted to crush you in his arm and inject you into his vein. he loves you so much but it pains him for not being able to hold your face.

so, obviously, his favorite place to spend time with you is at the lab. BECAUSE he can caress your face and every inch of you without the problem of the mask.

he loves tracing down from your eyebrows, feeling the tickling sensation against his fingertips, your nose, how they are more curved out from your face than his, and your mouth, touching your juicy lips as he resist the urge to plant a kiss on them

going down your chin, neck, and everything AAAAA

you LOVE touching his nose, how cute it is and how it twitches to every little sensitive things. your honorable mention is his tail, how it brushes and wraps against your skin.

BUTT YOU LOVE EVERY PART OF HIM PERIODT

he will DROOL if he sees you wearing them na’vi clothes. he loves how it accentuated your body and every part of you.

obviously, because it was more revealing to him and he is OBSESSED. gets protective when other people look at you tho >: “you are only my sight to see, only for me”

obsessed with your hairrr

whether it is straight, curly, wavy, long, or short he will find a way to style it according to na’vi’s culture.

will beg kiri to braid your hair and compliment you every 10 seconds

OVERALL = PROTECTIVE LO’AK BBG FOR YOU 10000/10

today’s a great day to take a break 🤍 emotionally and physically, you deserve it <3

@rosaryos / @bumblinbumblvee / @nyotamalfoy / @fangirl-2610 / @astablacksword / @lokisblueskin

[musings-of-a-rose]

I'll Always Wait For You - Chapter 18 (Final Chapter)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word Count: 6900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

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

Notes: Well, this is it. The final chapter. I’m feeling very emotional about this one, as these 2 are my babies. This fic was the second thing I ever started writing AND my first series. I started it in November of 2021 and now I’m ending it in June of 2023. Thank you to everyone who has read it, left comments, reblogged it, talked about it off of Tumblr (I am still FLOORED that this has happened!). This is what keeps people creating. Even if you think you have nothing important to say, or if all you say is just a keyboard mash of letters, I can promise you ALL of it means the world to us. So I dedicate this fic to you, the reader. You’re the real star here and I can’t express my love enough. If you’re ever wanting more, I am always down to write one shots, drabbles, character insights, what ifs, etc for this fic (and any of my others).

Now excuse me while I go cry

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

I'll Always Wait For You Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

<&lt;Chapter 17

“You look so beautiful!” Olivia gushes over you after she tucks the last braid into place, watching you stand and do a little twirl in your white dress.

“You think so? It’s not too much?”

“Too much? Girl, it’s your wedding day. You can’t be too much!”

Smiling, you smooth out your dress as you take in your reflection. You’re marrying Frankie. Your Frankie. Frankie, whom you’ve been in love with since you were 19. This is real. It’s happening.

Ok, technically, in the eyes of the law, it happened a few weeks ago at a courthouse. But there’s something special about gathering in front of your close friends and family, wearing a beautiful dress, and getting to repeat those vows in front of everyone. A soft knock at the door brings you out of your head and Olivia walks across the room to peak her head outside. 

“Mosa, it’s the photographer. Are you ready for the first look?”

“It’s HERmosa!” Frankie’s muffled yell comes from behind the door and Olivia smirks. 

One last glance in the mirror at your reflection and you nod, turning your back towards the door. You hear some shuffling as Frankie is ushered in backwards and the photographers get into place. 

“Turn in 3..2..1..Turn!” Olivia says and then steps back.

You turn, your eyes finding his almost immediately, as if they were drawn there. He’s dressed in a tailored suit, fitting his form perfectly, his grandfather’s kerchief folded and poking from the pocket. But what you’re really interested in is his face, his eyes growing wider and glossier the longer he looks at you.

“Hermosa, you…you’re beautiful,” Frankie says, awestruck.

“You’re just figuring that out?” You say behind a smile.

“No, I mean I always knew but…wow.”

He walks up to you and cups your cheek, running his thumb across it as Olivia hisses something about makeup from the corner of the room. But you couldn’t care less. Frankie was here, marrying you. This is all you’ve dreamt of for well over 10 years. A tear runs down Frankie’s cheek and you wipe it away.

“Are you ok?”

He sniffs and smiles. “I’m the best I’ve felt in a long time. I just…I only wish we would’ve done this sooner.”

“We did. We got married in the courthouse, remember?” 

He smiles at you. “I meant more that we never…that we stayed together since that first kiss.”

“Me too. But we can’t dwell on what-ifs. We can only think about the here-and-nows.”

Frankie tips your chin up and presses a light kiss to your lips, the clicks from the camera going crazy. You pose for photos for several minutes before Olivia ushers everyone from the room, winking at you when she says she’ll give you 10 minutes of alone time before she came to get you. The second the door closes, Frankie pushes his tongue in your mouth, pulling you as close as he can. 

“I can’t mess this dress up, Frankie,” You say pouting.

“That’s ok. I can work with that.” Frankie grips your hips and spins you around, bending you over the back of the chair and clasping a hand to your mouth as he takes you, your hands desperately trying to reach behind you to pull him in closer. 

15 minutes later, Olivia knocks on the door and enters hesitantly, smirking when she sees you smoothing down your dress, Frankie’s face more pink than when she had left. 

“It’s time,” she says, tossing her thumb over her shoulder and looking at Frankie pointedly. He turns to you and kisses your cheek.

“See you out there?”

“Raging sharks couldn’t keep me away.” 

He kisses you once more before Olivia starts clearing her throat. When he straightens up a curl falls on his forehead and you softly push it back to where it was, feeling Frankie’s eyes on you the entire time. He opens the door and looks outside befire turning back to you. 

“Your gift is here.”

“You don’t have to get me a gift, Frank-”

Santi walks through the door, dressed in a nice tux and smiling from ear to ear. You hadn’t seen him since the day he confessed his love for you and you had missed him terribly. Frankie was your best friend, but Santi was a close second and you’d hated the idea of getting married without him there.

“Santi?”

“Hey, Hermosa.”

You catch a glimpse of Frankie’s smile before he closes the door as you wrap your arms around Santi, feeling him squeeze you back just as hard. Separating a few moments later, you dab under your eyes as you try to choke back tears. 

“If I smudge my makeup, Olivia may kill me.”

Santi laughs. “She’s Benny’s girl, right? She’s perfect for him.”

“She’s really great…but how are you here?”

“I uh…Frankie called me a few weeks ago and told me…well, everything. I’m sorry I was screening my calls, Hermosa. I just…I needed time.”

“I understand. But…you’re here now! Are you ok?”

“I’m doing alright, Hermosa. Actually, pretty good.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about her.”

He laughs. “I will. But uh, hey - do you need a Man of Honor? If…if that would…be ok?”

“I would love to have to as my Man of Honor! But…Benny already agreed and I don’t know how to tell him -”

Santi waves his hand. “Benny was in on this. He knows and already said it was ok with him as long as you wanted it.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wait. Benny knew you were coming and he didn’t tell me?”

“Yeah.”

You gasp. “That bitch!”

Santi laughs his hardest yet. “So…”

“Let’s go, Man of Honor.”

The next thing you know, Frankie’s kissing you, everyone whooping and cheering, Aurelia throwing more flower petals into the air as they announce “Mr. and Mrs. Morales.” The rest of the night was like a blur, between photos and eating, first dances and cake, you barely had time to sit until things started to wind down long into the night. When you tried to help clean up, Olivia literally slapped your hand away and glared at you.

“Absolutely not. Benny!” He walks over and play groans when she says she’s recruited him to help clean up. She pretends to twist his nipple when he starts to complain and he yelps, high pitched and smiling as they play fight for a few moments before he gives in, grabbing plates and stacking them to wash. 

Frankie looks exhausted and he’s limping a little, so you beg him to not carry you over the threshold. “You did that when we got courthouse married.”

“Yeah but-”

“No. I’m not having you throw your hip out on our wedding day. Not from this.”

He chokes and smiles, giving in, a dark twinkle in his eye. “Alright. If you insist.” But by the time you’d made it upstairs and gotten your clothes off, both of you were too exhausted to do much of anything aside from a shower and literally fall into bed. But Frankie made up for lost time the next morning, waking you with what he claims was already your third orgasm of the day, his curls mussed up from being buried between your legs. He presses his body to yours, swallowing your whimpers before he adds his own, hips shaking with release. 

You spend your honeymoon at the Miller family cabin upstate, the only clothing you wear being one of Frankie’s shirts and sometimes his hat, which drives him wild. He celebrates another sobriety milestone while there, smiling wide at your praise. When you get back home, you can see he has an extra pep in his step, always a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, always wanting to touch you, whether a hand to your wrist, a touch to your lower back, or a smack on your ass, chuckling as you yelp and smack him back. When you ask him why he looks exceptionally happy, he credits you. “I finally got the girl of my dreams, the love of my life.”

—-

Frankie and you settle into a comfortable routine. You were no strangers to living together, the adjustment taking no time at all. Life goes on as normal, except now, you get to live it with Frankie, no longer separated by a stupid argument, misconceptions, or a bitch of an ex wife. This was exactly where you were meant to be. 

Several months later, Frankie follows you into the family restroom at Target, slinging your purse over his shoulder as he rifles through the bag of stuff you’d just purchased.

“Pink dye first, right?” He asks, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you.

“Yeah. They’re more accurate supposedly.” 

Frankie tears open the box and studies the directions, as if he hadn’t done this several times already. He opens one of the sticks and hands it to you, turning around to give you a little privacy. 

“Start the timer,” you say as you zip up your pants. Frankie hits go on his timer and turns to face you, a pregnancy stick held face down in your hand. He can see your nerves, your worry and concern on your face.

“It’ll be ok, Hermosa.”

“Yeah I know. But what if it isn’t?”

“It will be-”

“We’ve been trying for months, Frankie. I know the OB said to try for a year before fertility testing but-”

Frankie walks up to you and pulls you to him, applying a gentle pressure as he hugs you close, kissing the side of your head. “If it’s negative, then we keep trying, ok? It hasn’t been a year yet and sometimes these things take time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Will told me that it took them months to conceive Liam. And they were trying too. Just…breathe. In….out…”

You breathe with him for a few breaths. “You always were annoyingly calm in a crisis.”

He smiles. “Wouldn’t help to freak out behind the joystick.” 

You open your mouth to reply, but his timer cuts you off. Your mouth jams shut, nerves taking over your body as Frankie holds your gaze. 

“If it says negative, we can keep trying. Remember that. I love you no matter what, Hermosa.” You nod, taking a deep breath. “Ready?”

“Ready.” You flip the test over and look, 2 bright pink lines staring back at you. Tears immediately fall as you laugh, turning the test around to show Frankie, who yells, grabbing you up in his arms and hugging you tightly. He kisses you for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“I fucking love you, Hermosa.”

“I love you, Frankie.”

He yanks the door open and whoops loudly, people turning to look at him as you follow him out of the bathroom. 

“I’m going to be a father again!” He pumps his fists in the air, smiling from ear to ear as people cheer, clapping and congratulating you as they finish their purchases, one older couple handing you a gift card on their way out, telling you to spoil that baby. 

—-

Frankie was hesitant at first with your pregnancy, despite being so supportive and actually wanting a child with you. A couple months in, you finally ask him why he seems afraid to touch you, that you won’t break. He finally confesses to you that when Elizabeth was pregnant, she did nothing but yell at him, belittling him and wouldn’t let him touch her at all, not her belly, not even to rub her back or feet. She called him horrible names and would blame it on the hormones. Your heart breaks for him and you have no words. Well, you have words but they aren’t nice ones. Instead, you sit next to him on the bed, leaning back onto one arm, and take his hand with the other, gently placing it on your lower belly. His eyes light up as he looks at your tiny for the moment bump, tears welling in his eyes as he brings his other hand up to take the other side. He pulls your shirt up just enough to see your belly skin, giving it a tiny kiss.

“Hey, little one. You grow strong in there and don’t give your mom too much of a hard time.”

From then on, Frankie is all in. Whatever you need, he gets it, even if it’s a ridiculous request at 3am. He’s constantly touching your growing belly, talking to it as much as you do. He finds Aurelia’s old crib in the attic, a few boxes of baby stuff and a bassinet up there as well. He sets up the nursery under your instruction, letting Aurelia help with the decorations when she comes on the weekends. You decide to wait to find out the sex of the baby, thinking it would be something fun to do. So instead you call it “Bean”.

“Think Bean will like this?” Frankie asks, pointing to a baby swing. 

“They might, but Frankie, that swing is nearly $150. We can’t afford that.”

His shoulder’s slump but he agrees. “Maybe we can check the thrift shop. It’s the one thing Will didn’t toss our way.”

He was there for all of the classes too, birthing ones, breathing ones, even the hypnobirthing ones. He signed up for a “birthing partners” class, learning the best ways to support you not just during labor and delivery, but during the 4th trimester, or immediately postpartum. He helped you practice your meditations, making sure you had everything you needed and that you remember to take your prenatal and drink enough water. 

When you’re 8 months pregnant, getting winded from walking down the hall, Frankie gets a call from his boss at Flyboyz on his day off, asking him to come in. He grabs his hat and gives you a quick kiss before leaving, reminding you to drink water. He’d been working a lot lately, trying to make extra money so he can stay home with you and the baby for the first month. You’re not sure how long he’ll be gone, so you plop yourself down on your bed, pulling over the basket of baby clothes that still have to be sorted and you get to work, separating the sizes, long sleeve vs short, nightgowns from onesies. A couple hours later, the front door opens and Frankie slams it behind him, the picture frames rattling on the walls. You set aside the footie pajamas you were folding and go to stand up, but Frankie comes storming into the bedroom before you can move, anger coming off of him in waves.

“Frankie?”

He yanks his hat from his head, tossing it onto his dresser, knocking some things off of it. “I can’t fucking believe her!”

Struggling a little, you manage to get up and cross the room to him, placing your hand on his mid back. He recoils, anger flashing in his eyes but it’s not directed at you. Unsure of what happened, you know he needs to calm down before he can tell you. You grab an ice cube out of your glass of water and turn to Frankie.

“Give me your hand.”

He looks at you, eyebrow raised. “What?”

“Just do it.”

He stares at you for a moment before shoving his hand out. You flip it palm up, opening his fingers and place the ice cube in his palm. He yelps, but you hold his hand firmly so he won’t drop the ice.

“What the fuck, Hermosa?”

“The cold will help reset your nervous system.”

“I don’t think- it’s too fucking cold, Hermosa.”

“Just another few seconds.”

His chest, which had been heaving a moment ago, has slowed down, the anger still there but at a manageable level. You tip his hand and grab the falling ice into your own palm, putting it in the sink in the bathroom before coming back to the bed and trying to sit on it. Frankie is there, taking your hand and helping you into bed. He goes to stand but you squeeze his hand and pull him until he sighs, sitting on the edge, his shoulders slumped.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucking angry, but…the edge is gone. Ice…who fucking knew?”

“So..may I ask what happened?”

His eyes darken with repressed outrage. “I thought I was getting extra work. Instead, my pilot’s license has been suspended, pending a review.”

You sit up quickly, eyes going wide. “What??”

He nods, his jaw clenching. “Apparently, someone made a claim that I was using when I flew some clients and now they have to investigate.”

You knew that Frankie had been clean over a year, that he wasn’t using at all. “Oh, Frankie. Wait..who made the claim?”

He looks at you. “It was anonymous but I know it was Elizabeth.” He says her name with absolute disgust and hate that you nearly pull back from him. 

“Elizabeth? Would she-”

“Oh come on, Hermosa. You don’t think it was her? I’ve been clean for well over a year. She’s the only one who would have known that I used that would make claims.”

“What about Rick?”

Frankie shakes his head. “Nah. He left Flyboyz while you were…out of town. I told him he had to leave or I would report him for selling. He started to threaten to bring me down with him, but then remembered you were…not in my life and he could see the rock bottom in me, I guess. So he backed off, just left to go elsewhere. There’s no way it’s him. It’s her. It’s always her causing shit. I’m so fucking sick of it!”

Placing a hand on his back, you start to rub it, adding in little scratches here and there like he likes. “She is a bitch.”

“I just got my license back. I worked so hard on that.” He puts his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his legs. You scoot towards him wrapping your arm around him. 

“I know you did. But you said suspended? That doesn’t mean revoked, right?”

He shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“So…what does it mean?”

“It means, I can’t fly until it’s reinstated. I have to pee in a cup at random times during the week for 6 months to prove I’m clean before they will lift the suspension.”

“Well there you go!”

He looks up at you, his eyebrows pulling together. “There I go, what? We can’t afford for me to not have this income, Hermosa.”

“We’ll be ok-”

“You’re about to have a baby. Your income won’t happen for a bit, and that’s fine, but we needed this extra money and now I can’t provide that. All because of my bitch of an ex!”

“Frankie, we’ll be ok. If we have to borrow money, we can.”

“I’m not borrowing money.”

“Fine. Then I will borrow it.”

“No, I’ll…I’ll figure something out.”

“Frankie-”

“Just…can we just stop for tonight? I’m trying to process this.”

You open your mouth to argue but then see the exhausted look on his face. “Sure. Why don’t you come talk to us? That always makes you feel better.”

Leaning back against the headboard, you watch as Frankie scoots up the bed, getting level with your belly as you turn on your side so you’re not being squished. He chats to the baby for a while, about everything and nothing and by the time he’s done, his shoulders are relaxed and he’s not as angry anymore. 

Elizabeth never fully admits to being the one to make the claim, but you see the look on her face through the car window when you make your next exchange for Aurelia after Frankie confronts her and you know she did it. There’s nothing you can say or do except wait it out. Frankie getting his license back will be all the revenge you’ll need.

—---- (Skip to the next line if you don’t want to read about labor. It’s not terribly graphic at all, but I know it’s not everyone’s thing)-------

“I never thought I’d have to beg you to have sex with me!” You stomp your foot, furious that Frankie won’t follow the doctor’s advice. 

It had been a few weeks since his license was revoked and you were a week past your due date and not happy about it.

“Hermosa, I don’t-”

“Want to hurt me, I know, I know. But the midwife even said that sex is the best way to induce labor because of the prostaglandins in your semen.”

“You make it sound so sexy.”

“Frankie,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep sigh. “I am the size of a house. I am miserable and sweaty and I haven’t seen my feet in months and I just want to have this baby already. If it’s my belly, I can turn around-”

“You are fucking gorgeous.”

“Then please?”

Frankie studies you for a long moment, his shoulders starting to slump and that’s when you knew you had him. “Alright, fine. We can try it. But we’re going slow, taking our time, ok?”

“No arguments here.”

Contractions started within an hour of Frankie cumming inside of you. You weren’t sure at first what you were feeling, but it sort of felt like a bad period cramp, so you assumed this must be it. Frankie timed them all for you, helping you breathe as they got more intense and closer together, and when they were close enough apart, Frankie helped you to his truck and drove to the hospital. In between contractions, you watched him as he drove, expertly winding his way through traffic, a look of focus on his face, a little furrow between his brow the only indication that this was not a normal day behind the wheel. How lucky you were to have this man, who can be calm in stressful situations, want to spend his life with you. 

“What?” Frankie glances sideways at you before turning back to the road.

“You’re cute when you focus.”

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Remember how cute I am when you’re in transition.”

Before you know it, you’re in a labor and delivery room, barely spending any time in triage before they whisked you away. Hospitals can be a frustrating place to have a baby. Each nurse walks in and tells you to rest between contractions, try to get some sleep when you can, but then a new nurse comes along within an hour, always rousing you from sleep to take your blood pressure or put their fingers where you didn’t want them. You’d finally had enough of the latter and told a nurse to kindly fuck off, and denied internal exams unless it was a medical emergency. Frankie was by your side the entire labor, putting counter pressure on your hips when you needed it, pulling your hair from your face, sneaking you snacks because they forbid food and you said you’d chomp off your own fingers if they didn’t let you eat. Transition was hard, but all of a sudden, you knew it was time to push. Following your body, you get on all fours, taking your calming breaths, but then realizing that Frankie was not next to you. Turning your head, you see him, wide eyed and backing towards the door.

“I’ll just-” He points his thumb over his shoulder at the door.

“No, please. I need you here with me.” Another contraction has you breathing again and it’s a minute before he replies.

“You want me here?”

“Yes. I need you, Frankie.” 

His eyes start to water over and it doesn’t occur to you then, but later that night it’l come to you - he wasn’t trying to dodge out of the delivery. He was having a flashback to when Elizabeth kicked him out of the room right when Aurelia was making her way into the world, and your heart hurt all over again. Frankie is at your side in an instant, turning to yell for the nurse who had surprisingly not come in for some random check.

“No time!” You yell, letting out a low groan, a technique you learned to help move baby down and out. Frankie’s face slides into focus mode and he moves behind you, just in time to catch the baby as it comes sliding out. He gathers the baby up, holding it close as it screams into the world. The nurse comes running in then, having heard the baby crying as you turn onto your back, arms outstretched to hold your baby, skin to skin.

“Baby is here! I didn’t even know you were transitioning! You were pretty quiet.”

The nurse bustles around and does her thing while Frankie transfers the baby to your bare chest. Tears stream down your face as you look at Frankie, who has tears of his own. He kisses the top of your head. “I am so proud of you, Hermosa.”

A few moments pass, the baby calming against your chest. “Hey Frankie? Is the baby a boy or girl?”

He slaps his hand to his forehead. “I forgot to look! I was so focused on catching the baby and whether it was breathing and not dropping it that I don’t think I looked! Here.” He lifts the hip of the baby and smiles.

“We have a son. I have a son!”

—---No more labor/delivery details—---

Luis Christian Francisco Morales was born perfect. 10 little fingers and 10 little toes, skin glowing. He was the perfect combination of you both, although you say he favors Frankie mostly. 

You both settle into your roles as new parents, a lot of it being new to Frankie too, since Elizabeth had denied him so much. He was determined to not miss out on things this time, making sure you both had everything you needed and watching Luis when he stayed awake between feeds so you could have a nap. Aurelia cries the first time she sees Luis, big ugly sobs, and when Frankie finally calms her down enough to ask what’s wrong, she simply says “He…he’s…s-so so cute!” She happily takes up the mantle of “Big Sister” when she’s with you. Once, you wake from your nap only to find all 3 of them sleeping, Luis curled up on Frankie’s broad chest, Aurelia tucked onto his other side. You snap a photo and then quietly leave the room, taking the time to actually shower. 

About a month in, Frankie comes back from dropping Aurelia with her mom. His eyebrows were pulled together in confusion as he stares down at his phone.

“Everything ok?” You ask, shifting the bottle you were feeding Luis with so it was a better angle.

“Yeah. Uh…Santi just texted me.”

“Oh yeah? Everything ok?”

“Uh..he says congrats on Luis, that he’s the cutest, and that he was out of service for a bit and he’s sorry he didn’t text earlier.”

“That’s ok. I know he’s busy.”

Frankie is quiet for a moment. “He offered me some work.”

“Work?”

“Well, not just me. Benny, Will, and Tom too.”

“What kind of work?” When he doesn’t answer, you look up at him. He kicks his shoes off and sits next to you on the couch. 

“Consulting.” His eyes don’t meet yours, focusing instead on his fingers, where he starts to pick at the skin around his nails.

“Consulting.” You say in disbelief. 

“Yeah.”

“Wait, like a mission?”

Frankie shrugs. “No? I mean, it’s just scoping out a place and looking for weaknesses. We give our report to the government he works with and then come back. Easy peasy.” 

“If it’s so easy peasy, why aren’t you looking at me?”

He takes a deep breath and let’s it out slowly before looking at you. “It’s for a week. Just trying to find holes in a fence.”

“And why do they need you?”

“They need a pilot.”

“You don’t have your license.”

“It probably doesn’t matter over there.”

“Frankie, I don’t-”

“I’ts $17k, Hermosa. We need the money.”

“I don’t like it. So much can go wrong. Who’s house is it? Definitely no one that’s a stand up citizen. What happens if they find you first? No, I don’t like it.”

“Just..he’s coming to town tomorrow and we’re going to chat about it at Benny’s fight. Let me ask some more questions.”

“I don’t like it, Frankie.”

“I know. Just..let me talk to Pope.”

—----

It’s late the next night and you start to pace the floor of your bedroom, wondering when he’ll be back. He’d texted you to tell you Benny had won the fight and they were stopping at the bar for a quick drink before Olivia takes him home to play nurse. 

That had been 2 hours ago.

The door finally opens downstairs and you quietly make your way to the kitchen, where you were hearing Frankie move around. 

“Did I wake you?”

You shake your head. “I was awake. Luis is asleep.”

“Good, good. He go down ok?”

“Yeah, actually in his bassinet, but Frankie? How did it go?” 

He gets a glass of water, chugging half of it before setting the glass down on the counter. “It’s just a recce. No live fire.”

“There’s a possibility of people shooting at you??”

“I mean, we are casing a place. It’s always possible if guards see you or-”

“No.”

He looks at you. “Hermosa, we need the money.”

“No.”

“I don’t have a job. We need this.”

“No money is worth your life, Frankie. None of your lives.”

“I won’t be in any major danger. I’ve done worse.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have a family then.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No. No, I don’t like this, no.”

Frankie puts his hands on his hips, cocking one hip back as he looks at you. “We’re behind on bills.”

“So? I’ll borrow some money and you can stay.”

“Hermosa-”

“Or I can get another job? A new client. I can-”

“You just had a baby, so no.”

“Then I can-”

“Hermosa.” He says it firmly, that hip still cocked back as his eyes find yours, resolve in them.

“You’ve…you’ve already said yes, haven’t you?”

His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip. “We leave Thursday.”

Silence stretches between you both as you stare at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you made that decision without me.”

“I made the decision for us. We need the money.”

“Oh, fuck you and the money! I said I could borrow it. You’re just being stubborn!”

“I’m taking responsibility! We needed money and this just happens to come our way? I have to take it.”

“So you’re saying it’s fate that Santi texted you to lure you down there with the promise of $17k? You’re telling me that it’s just consulting and nothing else? Can you promise me that?”

He shrugs. “That was the original deal.”

“But can you promise me?”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes lingering on yours. “I’m going, Hermosa.”

And with that, you turn on your heel and walk out of the kitchen, closing the door behind you, wishing you could slam it. 

The next couple days were torture. You kept trying to convince Frankie to stay, convince all of them to stay. You didn’t want any of them going. But they all said the same thing that Frankie said. “It’s just consulting.” Thursday morning, Tom comes to pick up Frankie pretty early. He leans over to kiss you in bed and you take one more shot at trying to get him to stay. Your fingers wind into his curls as you pull him to you, deepening the chaste kiss he had started. 

“You can still stay,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

“I’ll be back in a week, Hermosa. I love you.”

Tears streaming down your face, you reply. “I love you too. Please don’t die. Don’t any of you die.”

Frankie chuckles. “We’ll be fine. I’ll call you in a couple of days once we’re settled, ok?”

—----

Except, Frankie did not call in a couple of days. Neither did any of the others, nor had they reached out to Stacy, Molly, or Olivia. There was no one to call, no contact. They needed it that way for whatever consultation they were on. Stacey brought the kids over and Olivia came too, all of you opting to stay together and support each other at least during the day. As the few days stretched into a week, which stretched into nearly another, Olivia split her time between you and Stacy’s, offering to watch the kids so you each could have a moment to yourselves. She was at Stacy’s tonight, Luis snuggled and tucked in beside you as you channel surf the tv, landing on nothing in particular. It was day 10 and about 2am so all of the infomercials were on. You landed on one for some random kitchen gadget when your phone rings. You jump, grabbing for your phone to quickly hit the silent button before it wakes Luis. It was an unknown number, but definitely foreign and so you pick up right away.

“Frankie?”

“Hermosa,” he breathes a sigh of relief, his voice wavering on the last syllable of your name. 

“Are you ok? Is everyone alright? Fuck, I’ve been terrified out of my mind.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Things got…out of hand. I can explain more when I get home.”

“I understand. But you’re ok?”

“I’m ok. A little banged up but ok.”

“Everyone else?”

The way he’s silent has your throat closing up, making it difficult to speak. “Frankie?”

“It’s Tom.”

While Tom and you never were best friends, there’s no way you would’ve wished death on the man, nor would you have wanted to have his girls without a father. 

—----

Frankie’s mom takes Luis while you drive to the airport, there to pick up Frankie as Olivia and Stacy were going to get Benny and Will. You had experienced all of the emotions these past 10 days, mostly anger and fear, but when you heard his voice, a part of you caved. You just wanted him home and were grateful that he was alive.

You spot Benny first, towering over a majority of the crowd as people file out security and head towards baggage claim. Then you see it - a dark blue standard heating oil cap bobbing next to Benny and suddenly, you’re running, pushing people out of the way as you run towards him, Frankie seeing you at the last moment, dropping his bag to gather you in his arms, burying his face in your hair. Olivia and Stacy copy your actions, Will hissing when Stacy throws her arms around him. He mutters “I’m ok.” before pulling her to him. Pulling back, you look up into Frankie’s black brown eyes, taking in all the features of his face, his laugh lines, the spot where his one dimple pops up, the fact that he had the audacity to shave his beard. 

“You shaved,” you said simply, running a finger along his jawline.

“Yeah. But I’ll grow it back just for you.”

His lips crash to yours, his hands cupping the sides of your face as you press your body against his, fingers twisting in his shirt. 

“I’m still mad at you,” you breathe out between kisses.

“Fair enough.”

Hugs were exchanged all around before everyone went to their homes. On the drive home, Frankie tells you everything, how it was just a consult but then they decided to try and do it themselves, how it would’ve all been fine if they hadn’t missed their window, or if Tom had listened when he said it was too much weight for the helicopter. 

“Wait..you crashed?” 

“Yeah. It was just a little crash.”

“Frankie!”

“It’s me. I landed us…mostly fine. We all walked away.”

He explains about the money and the people from the village, and how they had to trek up the fucking Andes mountains and down the other side. How a young man from the village had wanted revenge and got it, dying himself in the process. How they carried Tom down the side of the mountain, leaving a ton of money there, only to make it to safety and come back with a new chopper to get the money and safely make it back in a whole other country, which is where he called you from. By the end of the story you’re silent, tears quietly falling down your face as you realize how easily they all could’ve died on the side of those mountains. How one of them did. 

“We each put about $5mil in a trust fund for Tom’s girls, made sure Molly was taken care of. It’s what Tom would’ve wanted and it’s…it’ll never be enough.”

“Hey,” you squeeze his thigh and he looks at you, tears on his cheeks. “You are not to blame. Every one of you knew what you were doing, knew there were risks. And while I can’t say who shot first as I wasn’t there, Frankie, it was self defense. And, I’m sorry, but knowing you and knowing Tom? I’d bet money on him shooting first.”

Frankie nods. “Yeah I guess so…. are you mad at me still?”

“I was all prepared to be so pissed at you, but honestly? I’m just glad to have you here and alive.”

Frankie spends the next hour between your legs and you spend the hour after that washing his hair and tending to his arguably minor wounds. Once you were clean and dressed, you made him something to eat, as you’d have to go get Luis shortly. When you set his glass of water down, he grips your wrist, pulling you into his lap.

“How are you feeling? Do you need to call your sponsor?”

He shakes his head. “Surprisingly, no. I think I’m just so grateful to be alive. And there’s one more thing.”

“What?” You ask nervously.

Frankie leans in closer, speaking low in your ear. “We got the rest of the money.”

“The $17k?” You said stupidly.

Frankie smiles and shakes his head. “A lot more than $17k.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Millions, Hermosa. Each. Millions. We’re set for life, as are Luis and Aurelia.”

“Can we stay here?”

Frankie chuckles. “What?”

“I don’t want some giant mansion. I want to stay here. In our house.”

Frankie smiles and kisses you lightly. “We can do whatever you want to.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Besides take care of my family?”

“Besides that.”

“Once I get my license reinstated, I want to start my business.” His eyes light up as he talks about it, how he had already looked into getting retired choppers, and had gathered up some possible contacts, even scouted out some property. The only thing that had stopped him was the money, which was no longer an issue. 

—----

6 months later, Frankie’s license gets reinstated, the owner clapping him on the shoulder and apologizing for everything. A month later, Frankie opens Chopperz, his veteran owned and operated helicopter tour business. It’s a instant success - apparently people really want to experience flying in various retired military equipment being flown by actual veterans. He even has repeat customers, although a lot of them are women and you catch more than one of them blushing when he talks to them. 

Will and Stacy build a new house, much bigger to fit their expanding family, ecstatic that they were finally having a girl. He quits giving speeches almost immediately, staying home with his family and helping Frankie out when he needs it. 

Benny and Olivia confessed that they had actually gotten married the day after Benny’s last fight, not able to wait any longer. When he came home, they took off to travel the world while their dream house was being built just down the road from Frankie and Will. 

Santi went to Australia to find Yovanna and her brother, following them around until they got settled. He and Yovanna stayed together for a while, and he took some time for himself, wandering the world to see things when he wasn’t in a uniform. He eventually came back, building a house down the road from Frankie and the Millers. But to his first get together with everyone, he brought a girl, which wouldn’t have surprised anyone, but you could see the way he looked at her, constantly touching her lightly, pressing kisses to her head, shoulder, lips, anywhere he could. And she was doing the same, her eyes lighting up every time they looked at each other, so when you asked him later, away from everyone else, he scratches the back of his neck and admits that he thinks she’s the one, that she gets him, understands him, and doesn’t give a flying fuck about his money, which she didn’t even know about until now.  

Frankie and you were finally happy, after all these years. Elizabeth finally stopped her shit, leaving you and Frankie to be happy and only communicating when it regards Aurelia. Instead of moving, you decide to expand your house, adding another couple of bedrooms because you want to eventually expand your family. Frankie is beyond happy, smiling at Luis and Aurelia as they run around their new treehouse in the backyard, feeling you wrap your arms around him from behind, kissing his broad back before moving to stand next to him, his arm around your shoulder as you both watch your kids.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, turning your head up to him.

“How happy I am. How I wish we had started this all sooner, that it didn’t take such a shitty road to get here, and that it didn’t take us this long.”

You reach up and cup his face, pulling him to you as you kiss him, his soft lips lightly nibbling at yours. 

“I’ll always wait for you, Frankie.”

—----  

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[nescaveckwriter]

Paintbrushes and Romance - Chapter 2 0 - 🐞💕

Dean x Reader

A/N: It's here my bugsies🐞💕 the wedding, I'll suggest you grab a nice cup of hot cocoa and a box of tissues 🤭🥲🥰🐞

Side Note: I can't believe my first ever written story, has made it this far, I feel so blessed with all the love and support from y'all 🥰🐞(of course I'm not crying 😭 you are😂)

Warning: Just pure fluff, and some happy tears🐞🥰

Thank you for loving me, even though, I've ran away, messed everything up, and managed to still blame you sometimes for stuff going wrong, Babe, you have given me more in this life than I could ever ask, you've given me, love, laughter, a chance to really have the life I've dreamt of as a little girl, Dean my love, you came into my life in the most unexpected way, in a coffee shop, somehow it feels like ages ago, we've changed, we've grown, we've gotten older, we have a life together, we have a beautiful house, on a lovely piece of land, but in all honesty, I would love you even if we never fix all the leaks on the roof,  I would love you, if we stayed in the impala, my love, I would choose you a million times over, even with all the stuff we both went through, I'd choose you time and time again, see babe, with your emerald green eyes, and that stupid mischievous smile of yours, you stole my heart, I guess what trying to say is, that you are my home, no matter where we are.

''Urgh. I can't say that, it sounds so freaking cheesy'' agitated, crumbling up the piece of paper and throwing it in the corner of the bedroom.

''Sweetie, are you okay'' a sweet smile on Caroline's face.

Tears welling up in her eyes ''No mom, I'm not, everything's a disaster, why did we say we are going to write our own vows? And to top off the damn cheesy wedding vows, I'm afraid my dress aren't going to fit, I'm going to throw up in front off everybody, this morning sickness is killing me, and I'm just.. just a mess''

Looking at her daughter in her bride to be gown, shaking her head ''Sweetie, you look beautiful, your dress is going to fit perfectly, your not even showing yet'' laughing now '' and as for the wedding vows, it can be as cheesy as you want it to be, as long as it comes from your heart, and we both know your morning sickness will pass in a sort little while, Eileen went to fetch you some ginger tea, okay''

Sighing, wiping her tears away. ''Thank you Mom, nobody really warns you about the crazy hormones when your pregnant.''

''Sweetie, you've always been a bit a little more emotional'' letting out giggle

Glancing at her mom, then breaking out in laughter. ''Yes Mom your right, I am being over dramatic aren't I?''

''I won't answer that if I were you, Mom'' Joe teased.

The three of them laughed. Joe looked at his sister, who's make-up and hair aren't done yet. He starts teasing her ''Oh poor bastard, he's going to stand at the altar thinking you're not going to show up'' 

Clicking her tongue, with a twinkle in her eyes, ''I still have loads of time, now go! I need to get ready''

Hearing Joe's laughter helps to calm her nerves, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth, ''I am being over dramatic, now lets start celebrating with some alcohol free champagne and good music,'' getting up, walking to were her wedding dress is still nicely wrapped up, feeling the excitement pulsing through her veins, ''I'm getting married, today'' letting out laughter.

----

''Dammit Sammy, I can't find the rings, I knew I put it on the bedside table!'' running his hand over his face

''Dude, breathe, you gave the rings to Cas, remember'' letting out a snort

Dean sighs ''Oh yes, your right, hell I need a drink, I can't believe I'm so nervous.''

Putting his hand on his brother's shoulder, his voice sincere, ''Dean the two of you are made for each other, today is going to be perfect''

''Thanks man, there's a part of me, that thinks she's going to realize, I'm just really a jerk and leave me standing there, I'm not exactly a perfect man.''

Shaking his head in disbelief, ''Dean, that woman loves you, and only you, why I have no idea, but she does, so just try and enjoy today''

Cas, walks in the room, a big grin on his face ''You ready to be a married man, Dean?''

Dean and Sam laughs, but its Dean that speaks first. ''Honestly I wish it was all over already, I just want to stick that ring on her finger, and make sure she's mine forever, just don't let her hear that'' he laughs

Sam takes two glasses pouring some whisky in it, handing one to Dean ''Drink up brother, it will soothe the nerves'' and then taking a sip himself.

Cas glares at the two brothers.

''What'' the two brothers ask simultaneously 

''I'll take some of the whisky too, please'' Cas answered.

Dean laughs ''Pour him one Sammy''

''You and that beautiful woman your about to marry, has made me crazy and worried in the past, so if I'm going to marry the two of you today, I need a little something extra'' he laughs

The three of them spend the rest of the morning, talking about life, while wondering what the girls are up too.  

----

Adjusting his tux, ''Does this thing ever get any less uncomfortable'' glancing at himself, in the mirror, thoughts racing through his head, ''she deserves way more, I'm not good enough, what am I even doing, how the hell am I going to be a good husband, a father?''

Removing the the tie, throwing it to the floor, rushing through the door, gasping, ''Sorry Bobby, I didn't see you''

''Where are you going you idjit? its almost time to for the wedding to start,'' he remarked

''I can't do this Bobby, she deserves better than me'' he growled

Bobby slapping him through the face ''damn idjit! would you just stop being so overly dramatic'' he warned

Dean's eyes are filled with concern, ''how.. how do I know if I'm going to be good enough for her, for our child''

''Do I look like Dr. Phil too you'' he barked a bit, taking Dean by his shoulders ''Son, she loves you, and you love her, as long as there's love then its good enough, nobody is perfect, but when there's love, real love between two people, then its pretty damn close.'' 

A corner of his mouth turned up, looking at the man who's more of a father to him, ''Thank you, I needed that.'' he expressed his gratitude.

''Yeah, yeah, we got to get a move on'' Bobby gestured.

----

Inspecting herself in the mirror, her hair draped over her shoulders, loose little braids everywhere, tiny flowers, placed in between the braided strands, her makeup is soft, consisting of natural nudes, mixed with light browns, and light pink lips, glancing down at her dress, its a beautiful white, A-line dress, the corset piece, hugging her waist, and the sleeves only halfway up, exposing her neckline and back a little, the detailing is small, but everywhere you look is little roses and flowers with leaves draping all the way down, her brown boots with white laced tips, just giving her enough length, so that the seam of the dress, doesn't get dragged through the grass and mud as she walks towards the river, where the altar is set up. A smile tugging at her lips, ''I'm ready to marry the man of my dreams'' 

Caroline, Mary, Ruby and Eileen, just admiring the beautiful bride, Caroline's brittle voice, breaks the silence first, ''My sweet girl, you look amazing, beautiful and radiant'' hugging her daughter tightly. 

Her voice shaky ''Thank you mommy''

''My son, is sure lucky to marry such a beauty'' Mary's voice sweet

Letting out a laugh ''I'm the lucky one''

Eileen hands, you the beautiful flower bouquet, signing to you, ''its time''

As you walk out of the room, into the hallway meeting the glances of your father and Bobby. You asked your dad if he'd walk you down the aisle and if it would be okay if Bobby would also walked with the two of you, he didn't oppose, he said, that he understood why, and so you asked Bobby if it also be okay, and that day, the gruff old man, shed a few tears.

Bill's jaw dropped, when he saw his daughter walking out, ''Honey you are beautiful, a true vision.''

''I second that Bill'' Bobby smiled.

Pulling both into a hug, ''Thank you Daddy, Bobby, it means so much to me.

----

All your family and friends are seated, waiting patiently for your arrival, as you start walking closer, you see Sam saying something to Dean, and Dean just laughed, like really laughed. Its like the world comes to a standstill if that man laughs, damn I love him.

Joe starts playing the traditional wedding entrance song on the piano, as you start walking towards the aisle, Your Dad on your right side and Bobby on your left, Ruby and Eileen walking in front of you, to take their positions in as bridesmaids. As you stride closer to Dean you could've sworn his eyes glossed over, his smile was from ear to ear as he shaked Bill's and Bobby's hands, giving them a one sided hug, and a low whisper of thank you.

You tried batting away the tears, as you glanced over the family and friends, then finally too your husband to be, but it didn't quite work. Dean thumbed away the tears. Mouthing, ''if you're okay and that you're the most beautiful thing he ever layed eyes on. 

Replying ''yes babe, just extremely happy''

Dean's emerald eyes, scanning over your lovely face, he leans in about to kiss you.

Cas giving a fake cough, ''Excuse me Dean but, you may not kiss the bride just yet'' the crowd burst out into laughter as they saw the quilty look upon his face. ''Fine'' he mumbled 

Cas starts ''Family and friends, we have come together today, to join these two in marriage,  it's about time don't you agree'' he chuckled ''They said they'd write their own vows, so with no further do, the bride can start'' he smiles

While glancing at Dean and the grumbled up note, as you read it, there's some laughter and some sobbing, but the way Dean's eyes lit up when you said he was your home you knew, the written vow, wasn't cheesy, it was a piece of your heart.

Clearing his throat, he begun to speak, his husky voice melted into the hearts off the people celebrating with you. ''Sweetheart I have written this over and over, and in all honesty I lost the damn note'' letting out a nervous chuckle, ''but what I was reminded of earlier is, love isn't perfect, it's no fairytale or storybook, and hell, it never comes easy, we have faced so many obstacles and challenges, and even in the times we were away from each other, there were parts of us, that held on and never gave up, hoping we'll find each other again, and I've come to realize that every second, minute, hour, days, weeks, years, spent with you, will still not be enough, sweetheart I never in my life would've thought an amazing woman as you would be able to love me, so I promise, with every breath I will love you, and with every heartbeat, I will care for you, and with my soul I will adore you.'' hearing him say that, released a river of tears from your eyes.

Handing them the rings, Cas said ''with this ring, I commit, my life, dreams, hope and love to you my beloved, I vow to forever love you''

The two of you said the line as you were sliding the rings over your left fingers, both of you smiled when you said ''I Do'' simultaneously

Cas said with a smile ''You may kiss the bride''

A mischievous smile tugs at his lips ''Don't mind if I do'' his lips brushed against your, it started gentle but got deeper as he pulled you closer. The two of you laughed into each others lips, as you heard someone in the crowd yelled, ''Hey you two! there's kids here'' Dean gives you one more quick kiss, before he pulls back. Looking over the crowd, he mocks towards the person in the distance ''Bite me''

Grabbing your hand, holding it up in the air, as if he just won something, his emerald eyes, reflecting the sunlight shining down, he smirked, ''This is my wife, Mrs. Winchester'' you laughed, the amount of joy you feel is to difficult to describe, not even to speak off the love you feel for this man. As they walk down the path and the people started throwing the heart shaped leaves, whispering to each other, ''this day is perfect!'' Sharing a kiss, you feel raindrops starting to dampen your skin, laughing the two of you run towards the entrance of the hall where the celebration will be held, knowing no matter what storm comes next, the two of you are home, and nothing is going to shake this loving foundation.  

[not-in-your-walls]

The Wanderer

So I wrote this about 1-2 years ago now, but I thought it was cute, so I wanted to share it on here :)

A man, or more accurately a spirit who is said to have walked the earth for thousands upon thousands of years. A spirit that is claimed to be as tall as the mountains. He is said to possess the ability to produce life and to transform into all kinds of living creatures. It is said he protects small isolated villages within the big vast forest. His backstory is completely unknown. There are theories on how he had come to be, but they are nothing more than that, theories. However, his story has been told in a variety of ways. Many portray him as a malevolent being, someone to be feared for his power and size. Others view him as a deity, someone to be worshiped in order to receive protection from other evils. And some just view him as nothing more than just a myth. Though, despite everyone’s stand on this unknown entity, he is referred to by all as “The Wanderer”. A fitting title if you ask me.

I personally can assure you he is very much real, and I myself have seen this great being with my very own eyes. Though, at the time, I didn’t realize who or what he was. It was an interesting experience to say the least. To meet the being that so many put on a pedestal, for reasons both good and bad. 

Not everything in this will be word for word because this encounter happened years ago, when I was only a girl, barely nine at that. Possibly even younger. Or maybe even a bit older. Now, I’m all old and wrinkly and my memory is a bit foggy. I guess old age is finally catching up with me. Might as well write this down before I finally kick the bucket…

A little girl laid in the middle of the forest floor, the grass lightly tickling her face. The trees surrounded the area. It was a small clearing filled with many different plants and insects, the sun's beams gently touched her skin. Her hair was spread out all around her. She stared up into the sky, making shapes out of all the different clouds.

She was relatively far away from her home village. All because she had seen a cool looking butterfly, one that she had never seen before and had decided to chase after it out of curiosity. You can figure out what happened next. She of course, like what was mentioned earlier, ended up far from the village and now she has to make the long trek back. After wandering around for what felt to have been an hour, she had started to recognize the nature around her.

Her mother had previously warned her to not stray too far from the village, but it’s obviously too late for that now. Now, here she laid, taking a break from walking in order to rest her legs from all of the constant movement.

After laying there for a solid five minutes, she felt a sudden wave of tiredness hit her like a slap to the face. It felt almost random. She was perfectly fine a second ago, but now, she could barely keep her eyes open. The energy that forced her to keep moving must’ve finally worn off.

I’ll just close my eyes for one second, she thought to herself. She didn’t want to keep her eyes closed for too long or else she feared she would fall asleep. She had to stay awake or there was a chance that her nap would last way longer than intended. She wanted to get back home before supper or her parents would be worried. And stay awake she does, or at least what she thought she did, until she opened her eyes.

As her eyelids slowly parted, she wondered why they felt a lot less heavier than they did earlier. Then, she noticed the dark night sky above her. She quickly sat up in a panic. When she closed her eyes and opened them, it had felt like any other blink, but clearly she had fallen asleep. The one thing she was trying to avoid. Now, it was night and her parents must’ve been worried sick. They’re probably looking for her as we speak. 

She closed her eyes and breathed in and out to clear her mind, like she was taught. After steadying herself, she opened her eyes and focused on her dilemma, or at least tried to. She stood up and started to pace around in a small circular motion. She was thankfully able to think more clearly now due to that technique. Though, through the corner of her eye, she noticed a silhouette of a giant laying down only a few feet away from her. The girl stopped in her tracks. It somehow hadn’t seemed to notice her yet. Or maybe, it was pretending it hadn’t noticed her for whatever reason. Then again, it seemed to be facing the sky so maybe it really had yet to see her.

Well, either way she wanted to get away from it. She slowly moved back, trying to keep her footsteps as silent as possible, when she heard a loud “Crack” echo throughout the silent area. She slowly lifted up her foot to notice a stick now broken in half where her foot just was. Gulping, she then looked up to see the thing staring right at her through its pure white eyes. It was now laying on its side, most likely to properly face her.

She didn’t know what to refer to it as because frankly, the little girl had never seen anything like it before. Its skin seemed to be more grayish and its dark colored hair was all matted. The girl couldn’t tell if it was black or dark blue, or maybe it was some other color. Maybe it’s skin wasn’t even gray. It was hard to tell in the dark. Nevertheless, it’s hair or skin color didn’t matter. She just wanted to go home, back to her parents where she would be safe, or at least as safe as she could be. 

The two beings stared at each other for a few seconds, one with supposed curiosity and the other petrified with fear. Breaking out of the trance, the girl turned around and started running like her life depended on it. Tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. She was scared. She didn’t know what it was nor its intentions and she wasn’t going to risk her life to find out. She just wanted to get away. 

While running, she tripped on a rock. She mentally scolded herself for her own stupid clumsiness. Temporarily putting that aside for now, she quickly braced herself for the fall. That was, until she unexpectedly landed on something smooth, yet cold. She looked down to see nothing but dark gray underneath her upper body. She felt herself shiver at its touch. The little girl looked over her shoulder to see the thing not even fully stretching out its elbow to catch her. She guessed it really was foolish to try to run from something as big as that. For crying out loud she was already breathing pretty heavily from that little run while all that creature had to do was move its arm a little bit to catch up to her.

It slightly lifted its hand up, bringing her upper body with it. Once she was balanced, it removed its hand from in front of her and started speaking to her in some foreign language.

“Wszystko w porzÄ…dku, maleÅ„ka? (Are you okay little one?)” It had asked in an unfamiliar tongue. Its voice was somehow calming in a weird way, peaceful even, like just listening to it speak sent all your troubles away. Yet, weirdly enough, it somehow wasn’t loud, at least not too loud. It’s voice didn’t echo throughout the forest like she had expected, instead, it was much quieter than that. 

The girl looked at the giant quizzically, not understanding what it was saying. While she felt calmer, yes, she was still confused. What was it trying to say to her?

“Ach, nie rozumiesz mnie? (Ah, do you not understand me?) Sso é melhor? Não tenho certeza do que as pessoas nesta área falam. (Is this better? I’m not sure what people around this area speak.)” After a minute of awkward silence, the girl decided to finally say something to break the tension. 

“I-I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, yet somehow that thing was still able to hear her. 

“Ah, so you’re an English speaker. I was asking if you were okay.” It smiled. It was a friendly smile. Not malicious nor evil, just  a happy smile. Somehow, that small gesture had made all that fear just melt away. She still didn’t trust it though.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” She quietly answered, avoiding its gaze and fidgeting with her hands. She supposed she owed it a thanks for stopping her fall. She was about to say a small ‘thank you’ before it started speaking again.

“That’s good to hear. Now what are you doing out here in the forest so late at night? It can get dangerous, especially for someone your age.” ‘More dangerous than a giant whose hand is three times bigger than me,’ she wanted to retort, but bit her tongue before she could. She still had to be careful of what she says around it. She didn’t want to accidentally upset it in fear of what it could do to her if she did. So, she might as well answer it. It may seem friendly, but you never know.

“I- um, well I was chasing a butterfly when I got lost. I mean, not exactly lost, but I just ended up pretty far from my village and I fell asleep when I took a break from walking. And, that’s how I got here.”

“Hmmm, I see. Do you need any help getting back?” It paused, silently waiting for her response.

Feeling panicked by the two options, she replied with the first thing that came into her mind which happened to be a small ‘yes.’

It gave her a nod before the thing rose up from its laying position into more of a sitting position. It wasn’t until it moved that she noticed its legs were somehow phasing through the trees the entire time, like a ghost phasing through a wall. It now sat on its knees and placed its hand palm up right in front of her. The little girl instinctively took a step back. She looked up, trying to make eye contact, but it was too tall for that to be possible. She then looked back at the unmoving hand. She felt that she had to do something, but she was afraid, afraid of how much more vulnerable she would be, literally putting her life in the hands of a stranger. ‘Well,'' she figured, ‘if it wanted to hurt her, it would have done so already.’ And with that, she finally mustered up enough confidence to approach the giant hand and to climb onto it, making her feel smaller than she already was. She took a deep breath as she adjusted herself to get comfortable.

“You ready?” It asked. She let out a meek yes. The thing placed its thumb near her waist. She was confused why until it started to lift her into the air. She ended up grabbing onto its thumb without thinking. She was taken aback by how quickly she was lifted up and the amount of air hitting her. After all was said and done, she let go of its thumb and opened her eyes. She must’ve closed them at some point without realizing.

The first thing she had noticed was how clearly she could see its face now. Granted, she still couldn’t tell the specific colors because of the dark sky, but it was easier to guess. The second thing she had noticed was how high up they were now. They towered above the trees by several feet.

“Where to?” It’s voice broke her out of her trance. “I-Inerstra village.” She said with a quiver in her voice.

“Ah yes, I’ve been there before.” He said as he started to walk. “It shouldn’t take too long to get there.” The girl looked up at him in surprise.

“You’ve been to my village before? How come I didn’t see you?”

“It was about fifty years ago so I don’t think you were born yet.”

“Oh…” there was a few minutes of silence before the girl suddenly spoke in a whisper.

“What….are you?” She blurted out. She could feel her heart beating in her chest. She had been wanting to ask this for a while, but she didn’t really know how to phrase it, so she held it in.

“I was wondering when you were gonna ask that.” It said in a lighter tone. “I am actually a spirit believe it or not.” It started. “One that has been roaming the earth for hundreds of thousands of years now, but I’m pretty sure you humans commonly refer to me as ‘The Wanderer.’” The girl furrowed her brows before once again widening her eyes in surprise, like something had finally clicked inside of her brain.

“Wait! Y-You’re The Wanderer? I thought you were just a myth! You’re real!?” The girl took a deep breath. “Is it true that you can create life and can bring the dead back to life? And do you really go around protecting villages?” He gave out a hearty chuckle before responding.

“One question at a time.  And to answer your questions so far, yes, I’m real. No, I can’t create life, or at least from scratch. I can bring the dead back to life but it takes quite a bit of effort to do so and I’d rather not mess with the dead. And I don’t really go out of my way to search for villages that need help. If I do spot a physical issue though like I don’t know, a hurricane or a blizzard, I’ll do my best to help, but in the end, there is only so much I can do. I can’t exactly help with issues within the village like discrimination and such. Besides, I don’t really like to reveal myself to humans in the first place.”

She was confused. “Why?”

“Well, for many reasons. The first being they scare easily. Back when I was more careless, I would interact with all sorts of living creatures, including humans. Though, more times than not, I would be chased out with torches. Fire couldn’t hurt me, but I felt bad for them. They were so scared they thought they had to threaten my life to get rid of me. So eventually, I stopped appearing to them. I also stopped appearing to a few other species as well, but that doesn’t matter too much.” It said with a sigh.

“Then why did you show yourself to me?” She hugged her knees to her chest. “And how were you able to visit my village without being seen?”

“I honestly didn’t even notice you at first, it wasn’t until you stepped on that stick that I finally saw you. And by then, it was too late. Course I got curious and, well, you know the rest. Though, I do apologize for talking to you when you clearly just wanted to get away from me. You’re probably the first human I interacted with in thousands of years, so like I said, I got curious. As fo-“

“Wait, you can read my mind?” She interrupted.

“Hmm? Oh, no. I can sense emotions, kind of like how animals can. I can only tell what you’re feeling, not what you’re thinking. Like I can tell if you’re happy or sad.”

“That’s…kinda cool. So then how were you able to visit my village without being seen?“

“I actually have an ability sort of similar to invisibility. I can make myself invisible to others, though it has its exceptions. I try to keep that ability activated when there are humans around or a chance of them being around. Hence how I was able to keep myself hidden.” The little girl nodded as a response. Another comfortable silence washed over them.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask for sometime now, but what is your name?” He asked. His eyes traveled to her small form before going back to facing the direction they were walking.

“Avera.” She said in a more confident tone.

“Avera.” He tried out the name on his tongue. “It’s a beautiful name.” He spoke. The little girl smiled at the compliment.

“Do you have a name? Well, ya know, other than The Wanderer?” She asked.

“No, I have never been given a name.”

“Really? Not even by your parents?” He gave her a soft smile.

“I’ve never met my parents. I’m honestly not even sure if I had parents to begin with.” She pursed her lips. And then, an idea suddenly came to her mind.

“I-I could give you a name if you want.” He stopped and looked at her in surprise before giving another gentle smile.

“I think I would like that.” So, she started to list a few names, and that list turned longer the more he turned down. Until, they had finally landed on a name he was content with.

“Okay, okay. How about…Dorian?”

“Dorian…” he tried out. “I think I like the sound of that.” They continued to make small talk for a few more minutes before they finally spotted a few humans. He stopped. They looked at each other, both knowing their time together was up. He gently placed his hand onto the forest floor. The girl looked at him with sadness.

“I promise I’ll visit.” He said in reassurance. The girl nodded her head. She was going to miss her giant companion, and by all means he was going to miss her.

She ran to the mini search party and told them what happened, obviously leaving out Dorian. The said party brought her back to her parents. They lightly scolded her for being so careless. She was of course punished for disobeying orders, but eventually it had passed over and people continued on like nothing ever happened. As she got older, she saw him less and less. The most she ever got to see in general was him watching over her in the distance. On the bright side, she finally knew his hair color.

In the end, we lived in two separate worlds. I lived in a world he couldn’t touch in fear of well…being feared. I, on the other hand, continued to grow old. I was upset at him for a while, angry at him for not visiting me in years, and then I was melancholy. I thought he was upset with me, but eventually I understood. Our lives as humans are fleeting while this is infinite. He didn’t want to get attached because I would die someday while he would be forced to continue living, living with the pain of the loss of a friend. So, I forgave him. And now I still have yet to see him, but whatever he’s doing now, I hope he is happy and well. And I guess this marks the end of my story. 

“Grandma!” A little boy shouted as he ran over to her and shook the old woman’s shoulder. He watched as her body went limp. Her head lay slumped over on her desk. 

“I’ll tell mom and dad! You stay here and watch over her!” A slightly older girl, presumably his sister, called out.

“Will grandma be okay?” He asked, tears welling up in his eyes. The girl looked at him with pity, tears starting to form on her own.

“I’m not sure, Jeremy, but I hope so.” The little girl said, her voice quivering as she spoke.

“You never told me you helped the dead pass on too,” the old woman- now in the form of the little girl she once looked at the giant sternly. She flew up to be at face level with him.

“Well, you never asked.” He spoke with a smile. His expression then turned into a face filled with regret. And Avera…” he looked at her. “I’m… sorry for not visiting you as much as I should’ve.” She gave him a playful glare.

“Well you better be! Do you know how upset I was when you stopped visiting me!? I thought I did something wrong and you were mad at me for some reason! But at the same time…” she looked at him, stared into his eyes. It was like she could truly see into his soul, like she could tell what he felt and what he was thinking. She let out a sigh. “I guess I understand. You didn’t want to get too attached in fear of the pain that came along with it.” He avoided her gaze. She sighed again.

“Well, either way, the past is behind us and it’s too late to change it now.”

“That it is.” he agreed. An awkward silence fell between the two.

The little girl then suddenly spoke up. “Well, I have a proposition for you.” Avera started. Dorian looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“And that is…?”

“Why don’t I accompany you on your journey?” 

“What?” He stared at her, flabbergasted.

“So instead of being alone for the rest of your miserable life, you can finally have someone to accompany you!”

“I- what do you mean miserable?! And anyway, what about your parents?” Then, she laughed.

“I can still visit them right? It’s not like I’m bound to you.” She said, refusing to answer his first question. Temporarily ignoring her earlier comment, he took a few seconds to land on a decision.

“Well, I guess it’ll be better than being alone for the rest of my life. And, I guess we do both have a lot to catch up on.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“And how exactly is my life miserable?”

“Do you really not know? Well, to start off…”

Some say they can see a little girl with the creature as tall as the mountains, either floating beside him, or sitting on his shoulder, just laughing and giggling with not a care in the world. Sometimes she’s there and sometimes she’s not. No one truly knows where she came from, she just suddenly appeared one day. Some claim that the two knew each other back in their previous life. Others say the little girl was a lost spirit who was helped by The Wanderer. There are many more theories of where she came from, but no one knows which is the truth and which is nothing but fiction, if any of them are true at all. Though, no matter how she came to be, one thing is certain, and that is she is here to stay. To forever be a part of the myth known as ‘The Wanderer.’

[risrielthron]

Risri Elthron

“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever…It remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.”

Name: Risri Elthron Nickname: Ris, Big Bear Race: Kaldorei FC: Erica Cerra Language(s): Common, Darnassian, Thalassian and some Orcish. Height: 6′2″ Body Type: Lean, fit. Eye Color: Silver Hair Color: Purple Age: 415 Notable Scars, Marks, etc: None. Tattoos/Piercings: Claw tattoos on her face. First Appearances: She always appears very well put together, always has a notebook and her camera.

Personality: The Consul (ESFJ-A). Consuls are altruists, and they take seriously their responsibility to help and to do the right thing. Consuls love to be of service, enjoying any role that allows them to participate in a meaningful way, so long as they know that they are valued and appreciated. Consul personalities respect hierarchy, and do their best to position themselves with some authority, at home and at work, which allows them to keep things clear, stable and organized for everyone.

Can Currently Be Found In: Stormwind, occasionally on her travels for photography reasons can be found anywhere in Azeroth

OOC INFORMATION:

What I’m Looking For: Character progression as well as story/plot progression. Friendships or hateships are good! Pre-established relationships are okay, just chat with me first. Fandom: World of Warcraft. Sole Faction or Cross-Faction: Sole Faction. Faction I Play: Alliance. Server: Wyrmrest Accord Venues I Actively Roleplay In:  Discord, Tumblr, and in game Favorite Type of RP: Friendship, Adventure, Small Social Circles Triggers: I do not condone any sexual harm to a minor. Period. Things I Will Not RP: Ultra-taboo, degradation, explicit content with minors. RP Strong Points: I am usually good about giving you something to play off of, whether it be a question or action. I typically write paragraphs but I don’t care if you do or not. I don’t usually put a lot of filler words in. RP Weak Points: I get anxious when more than three people sometimes. I can sometimes slow down an RP because I’m typing a response. I feel I am horrible with rapid fire RP.  What To Expect:  A very calm disposition, friendly, quiet most of the time. Where I RP: Prefer in-game or discord depending on the availability/content. Will do tumblr as well.

Shadowlands:  Risri is not IC in the Shadowlands and has not been there. Dragonflight:  Risri might be found in the Isles, especially around the Green Dragonflight areas.

RP HOOKS:

A Moment in Time: Risri owns a little photography studio on the canal side of the Trade District in Stormwind. Visitors would find photographs she has taken at events and around the worlds on the walls up for display or purchase (mostly landscapes for purchase).  She also does photo shoots in her studio (think family portrait).  She can be hired to take photos for events (she had done several weddings) or even for special reasons.  This is the perfect venue to meet Risri whether you’re just browsing or coming in to schedule something in particular.

Cenarion Circle: Risri is a member of the Cenarion Circle. Anyone who is a member could know Risri or know of her. She became a druid with the circle about 100 years ago. Druid things are always welcome whether its teaching or just chatting about events.

Other ideas:  Risri once ran @the-royal-courier​  many people know of her from those days, its okay to be one of them without chatting to me first. She often wanders taking photos out in the city, maybe she snapped one of you - its perfectly fine to question or even be angry that she did so, or even ask for a copy!

Art credit: 1st: @BBergolts on twitter, 2nd: @MischiArt on twitter, 3rd: @thedawnsart​

[shivunin]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Tagged by @daggerbean @ndostairlyrium @inquisimer @greypetrel and @plisuu - Thank you for tagging me! I fear many of you have already done your thing for the week, but for whenever @dreadfutures @pinayelf @zenstrike @dungeons-and-dragon-age @vakarians-babe and you!

Not fandom things, but I am still working on my yarn project (shawl? lap blanket? idk, I'm having fun).I had to pull a bunch of lines to fix something, but I'm making progress again and loving how this is coming out.

Writing-wise, I just finished a first draft of an Exchange piece (hard-won) and I've been looking over a Zevwen thing I started a few months ago. The research bit is the reason I set this aside instead of finishing it a few months ago, but the heart of it is steady.

This is part of one of my favorite scenes so far (700ish words):

Water sloshed in the tub behind her. Zevran’s fingertips brushed her elbow when he stepped past, and she adored the comfort of it even as she silently willed him not to ask. 

“Do you know,” he said. “I know that we were convinced to leave the alienage, but—what do you think of find a way into that clinic in the morning?” 

Wen turned to look at him, running the cloth through her wet hair, and he smiled at her. 

“I do think we can take them, should we bring the correct people,” he added. “These words about some sort of illness are clearly all lies, whatever they say.”

Oh—the realization had hit her more than once, swift and unerring as an arrow to the chest, but she had it again now: she loved him. Perhaps she would explain the feeling away later, perhaps she would shove it off for some other day. It didn’t matter. But right now—right now his hair clung to his face in a distinctly unattractive way, he was making an odd face while he dried his neck, and the skin on his hands was wrinkled with water. 

He was the most beautiful thing in the whole of Thedas and she loved him unequivocally. 

“Alright,” she said, and turned away again. “Yes. We should.”

Her hand ached when she pressed her thumb to the wound, but at least it had stopped bleeding. Wen bound it before she climbed into bed. She’d hesitated to ask Zevran to stay—after all that, she’d no idea what she might say or do next—but he’d followed her to the massive bed anyway and she hadn’t had the heart to tell him to leave her. Instead, she twined her bare legs with his and wrapped her arm around his waist. If she laid her head on his chest, she couldn’t see him looking at her. 

They’d doused the lights. Only the warm light of the fire remained, dancing over the fine golden hairs over his chest. Wen watched them, listening to the steady beat of Zevran’s heart. His hand lifted and stroked through her hair after they’d been lying still for several moments. It felt nice, soothing, relieving some of the ache at the base of her neck. Just as she’d begun to doze, he spoke again. 

“I will not ask,” he said, and she tensed. “I said that I will not, mi vida, unless you tell me otherwise. But—why did you not tell me?” 

One of Nelaros’s eyes had been open. She remembered that. One open, one missing. You could see all the way through it to the stone floor beneath. When she’d taken the ring from his hand, she’d wondered if it would fit perfectly inside, as if it had always been meant to frame a wound rather than adorn a hand. 

“I didn’t know how,” she said, and it was the truth. She still didn’t know how and she’d already done it. But—it wasn’t the whole truth. She’d gone this far without outright lying to Zevran; there was no sense in stopping now. 

“I—didn’t want you to see me any differently.” 

“Truly? After everything I have told you?” 

There was a rumble of a chuckle in his chest. Wen steeled herself and lifted her head to look at him. His eyes glinted in the firelight, flashing gold, and as hard as she searched she could find no recriminations in them. 

“Alright,” she said at last. “It was stupid.” 

“I did not say so,” he pronounced, pressing a hand to his chest. 

Wen bared her teeth at him and he laughed at her, tipping his head back against the pillows. She loved his laugh, even when he was laughing at her; she loved the long line of his throat and the way he smiled at her when he didn’t think she was watching and she loved his grace, loved the way he wove through a battlefield like he anticipated every move of his opponent. She loved his hand in hers and the way he smelled and she loved him. 

She loved him. 

“I hate you,” she said, and tucked her face against his neck so she could nuzzle the soft skin there. 

[mundanemoongirl]

For this week’s @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt

I’ve been waiting for an excuse to write something like this even though I don’t know how it’ll fit into my wip

Daron, who was normally very punctual, had completely lost track of time. She felt as though she had been in the dressing room for ages, sitting still as the maids brush glitter over her eyelids and cheeks. As they braided the hair she grew down to her knees to display the white streak—the mark of her clan—so it couldn’t be seen. As they did their best to make her look like a human.

Daron held back a sigh. She had always given everything she could for her clan, but now she was responsible for more than them. Going through with this ball—and further down the line, marriage—would end the centuries-long silence between humans and witches.

Just as the maid finished tucking away the last strand of her hair, someone rapped at the door.

“The prince ordered these be delivered to Lady Daron,” said the servant on the other side.

Daron saw her glimpse into the room, then quickly skirt away as their eyes met. Daron turned her gaze back to the chest being brought into the room, unaffected. It made perfect sense to her that the humans in the palace were eager to catch a glimpse of their soon-to-be witch princess before her introduction ball. It was simpler to judge if she was a threat to their kingdom or not when she was nearly alone and not yet done up in jewels and smiles.

Speaking of jewels, that was what was in the chest her betrothed sent to her. Necklaces, bracelets, and brooches, all stacked on one another. They glittered and glinted and were completely useless.

Daron rolled her eyes. She had told Prince James months ago when he first gave her a chest of jewels that she didn’t want nor need them. She disliked the way they had no real purpose other than to obscure a person’s beauty, unlike the jewels witches created to work magic. But she did not want to come off as ungrateful, so she sorted through them.

“Take any you want,” one of the maids said. “They’re all for you.”

As Daron trifled through the box, she figured that Prince James must have picked these jewels out with her in mind. They were much more toned down than his first gift, and came in colors she was more likely to wear. At least there was one light in this situation. Against her will, Daron had ended up adoring her human prince.

Daron’s gloved hands came upon a single sapphire, as large as her thumb, hanging on a chain. This one. She always wore some sort of blue on her as it was one of her clan colors, but she had no say when the maids dressed her in white—James had told her it was tradition. Daron clasped the accessory around her neck, admiring in a mirror how it stood out so much against the white.

If the humans needed comfort, then fine, she would let them tie her hair up in a way that hid her heritage and flaunt her around in “pure” colors. She would do what it took to unite humans and witches, but that didn’t mean she would completely forsake her clan. They would always come first.

Daron shut the lid to the chest and stood. She had been pampered in this room for far too long.

“Nothing else?” the maid asked, eyebrows raised.

“No, nothing else.”

Daron picked up her skirts and left the room. She was going to make a grand entrance, charm the courtiers, and dance waltz after waltz with her betrothed the way the queen taught her. And she was going to do it all perfectly.

[house-of-naga]

The Ducks

and the Padawans they represent:

Disclaimer: I initially stated they were all yellow with various hats. I'm reneging on that, because I think it's more meaningful this way and also because I didn't think the ducks would be as big a hit as they are currently. Another Disclaimer: I'm also starting to explore Seungmin's connection to the Force, and this is not all I have in mind. It'll be a learning journey for him though.

Vami/Venka:

Name Origin: SW name generator

Age as of 11BBY: 26

Actual Appearance: I took a lot of inspiration from Harbor from Valorant, since it seemed to fit his name and he was recently released when I started to write the Jeongin section -> Long, dark hair pulled into a bun, and a decently thick beard. Typically wears vests/tanks tops to let his arms loose.

Duck Appearance: His duck had a beard and a little sailor cap to represent his love of the water (esp. over the air). Vami thinks it's cute.

Little tidbits: Born on an ocean planet, and always really liked the ocean -> a big part of why he and Coria settled down on Arkanis. His master was a nautolan so it kinda always worked for him.

Sound (Hannie's Force): Hah, woodwinds.

Feeling (Seungmin's Force): An ocean breeze.

Coria/Cath:

Name Origin: SW name generator/Fire Emblem name

Age as of 11BBY: 26

Actual Appearance: I didn't really have a specific character in mind when I designed her like I did with Vami or Lissa -> Green skin, dark hair in a bob similar to Chaewon or Winter (I think I have an unhealthy obsession with cute bobs rn), doesn't have anything clothing that really defines her in my mind.

Tattoos: geometric triangles from her lower lip to her chin and then 8 squares over her cheekbones, 4 on each side (they kinda look like large freckles almost). The triangles denote becoming a Padawan, and the squares denote each year she's survived since Order 66.

Duck Appearance: Green duck with little Mirialan tattoos Coria painted herself. Black body with a Mirialan hood even though Coria doesn't wear one herself.

Little tidbits: Clearly likes to do arts and crafts in her free time. Gave herself traditional tattoos since she couldn't find another trained Mirialan to do it for her, but they're perfectly on center.

Sound (Hannie's Force): Either piano or cello. Maybe both.

Feeling (Seungmin's Force): Moonlight.

Lissa:

Name Origin: Fire Emblem character (I use too many Fire Emblem names in my fic lol I'm surprised no one's called me on this, but FE isn't too popular rn so I guess I shouldn't be)

Age as of 11BBY: 23

Actual Appearance: Like an older, scarred, and more buff version of her Fire Emblem counterpart -> long, blond hair, braided. Scars from years of fighting and being undercover up her arms. When not disguised, she wears basic shit like white t-shirts and black gloves.

Duck Appearance: Yellow duck. No hat, but braided blond hair instead.

Little tidbits: ghey. Also she saved someone important like... 20 chapters ago and it'll be a while til we see them again.

Sound (Hannie's Force): Deep brass (think tuba or trombone)

Feeling (Seungmin's Force): Not quite sure yet. Either mist or just straight rain.

Seungmin

Age as of 11BBY: 20

Duck Appearance: Yellow duck with a baseball cap. It's too perfect not to use.

Sound (Hannie's Force): Guitar, or hallikset. Y'know, whatever floats your boat.

Han

Age as of 11BBY: 20

Duck Appearance: Blue duck with yellow facial tattoos and a headdress similar to Riyo Chuchi's. These were also hand painted by Coria. (An homage to Hannie's master, Thassa.)

Feeling (Seungmin's Force): Sunshine 🥰

And that's it!

@31jindo :) (EDIT: they made some duck designs based off these descriptions that you can see here 🥰🥰🥰)

[cosmic--dandelion]

So I have a fairly unique take on Kakyoin's backstory in my own writing. I wrote his parents as straight up toxic, psychologically and sometimes physically abusive, and neglectful. My version of Kakyoin ran away from home years before he met Jotaro, spent some time in a mental institution, and instead of being stalked and kidnapped, deliverately sought Dio out on his own.

Quite a departure from the more commonly accepted "Kakyoin has nice, normal parents who just didn't understand him" interpretation, huh? So why did I write this (other than the fact that I graviate toward angsty backstories) and how does it fit what we know about Kakyoin?

Kakyoin's most obvious feature is his intelligence. All of his friends, who are (mostly) brainy guys themselves, acknowledge that he's the best, most reliable strategist in the group, and a good portion of his dislogue is info-dumping. As expected of an honor student, he's very prim and proper to contrast Jotaro's delinquent image. Yet he's also weird, socially awkward, brutally honest, and emotionally distant. I've heard him described as having no setting in between "uncomfortably polite" and "rude bastard", and damn if that doesn't fit him like glove. In battle, he's probably the scariest, most ruthless crusader and is perfectly capable of straight-up beating the shit out of his closest friends, even if he's also capable of bring the bigger person and forgiving them. Friendship and bonds are everything to him. He's caring and empathetic but has balls of steel and takes exactly zero shit from anyone. He's quite familiar with other cultures' customs and traditions, implying he's an experienced traveler. Kakyoin is very independent and has skills, knowledge, and confidence you wouldn't expect a normal kid his age to have.

I wrote a little about Kakyoin's backstory in the second fanfiction I ever wrote, "Facets" and then in great detail in "In Water". If you haven't yet, please go check them out! They are, in my opinion, quite a bit more interesting that just hearing me talk about them. Now onto spoilers, for both the manga and my own work.

So this is Kakyoin's canonical backstory. All of it. The anime isn't canon, the fighting games aren't canon, the Josuke and Hol Horse spin-off isn't canon. Only this is, plus that 19 page backstory Araki wrote for him thirty years ago that will never see the light of day.

This is it. There's a blurb on his character profile that mentions that his parents are alive, they think he ran away, and they're either "shocked " or "very worried" depending on the translation. Then he dies, and in typical Araki fashion, Kakyoin is never seen or referenced again.

The sheer amount of angst Kakyoin had over no one being able to see his stand, even compared to other born stand users, makes me think there's more to it.

In my version of his backstory, Kakyoin's parents are poor. His dad is a rather unimpressive, unambiguous office worker who's made several bad business decision, escalating tensions between him and his wife. She hails from an upper middle class background and is generally a bit snobbish and image-conscious. Kakyoin's birth just adds fuel to the flames. In addition to being another mouth to feed, he has inexplicably bright red hair and violet eyes. (In my version of the jjba-verse, born stand users just have weird hair and eye colors sometimes.) The husband decides that this means his wife cheated on him with a red-headed foreigner.

Kakyoin is a problem child. He's exceptionally bright and imaginative in a school system (remember, it's 1970s Japan) that doesn't know how to handle gifted children, and he's non-neurotypical with a troubled home life to boot. That conversation with his teacher probably happens around this time. He self isolates, but he's not causing trouble on purpose, and the other kids are intimidated, but not hateful. Yet.

Then his parents have a their worst fight yet, and Kakyoin loses control of Hierophant due to stress and almost kills his father. The man is traumatized (as you would be if you were possessed by an invisible tentacle monster only you son can see and control) and abandons his own family. The mother knows Kakyoin did *something*, but she doesn't know what. Her resentment deepens, and they continue to drift apart.

Kakyoin's relationship with his mother reaches its nadir, and now he *is* getting ostracized. He's angry at the world and starting to lash out. By age 10, Kakyoin has started seeing counselors. He is misdiagnosed as having a whole host of scary-sounding mental disorders and is forced to take powerful mood stabilizers and antipsychotics every day. After all, he spends all his time playing with someone they can't see and drawing a weird green thing that looks like a cthulhuloid abomination. The mother reaches her breaking point and surrenders him to a combination group home/"special school". This experience defined him probably more than any other event in his life before this point. It's incredibly violating and humiliating, and Kakyoin develops a complex about always having to be seen as the smartest guy in the room.

At around age 14, he runs away, desperate to find more people like him. On his travels, he hears rumors about a mysterious, beautiful man in Egypt with strange powers. The entire "family vacation" to Egypt was a lie he made up on the spot because he didn't want to admit that HE sought Dio out, not the other way around, and that he's a runaway with a checkered past.

So what about his parents? My version of Kakyoin doesn't hate them and would have at least tried to bridge the gap between them if they'd both hasn't so thoroughly cut him out of their lives. He feels guilty on some level for not being a good enough son, and he wants to believe that they still love him on some level. Hence the "I'm sorry for making you worry" line.

Are they worried? Probably. They're shitty parents, not monsters.

(The "mom has dad and dad has mom" line? The former Mrs. Kakyoin had a revolving line of boyfriends and lovers, so Kakyoin started to think of 'dad' as a temporary position in her life rather than a singular person. Growing up in a dysfunctional family with no socialization with peers who had normal ones, he has a warped view of how families are.)

So what about Dio?

This one's pretty easy. In my version, Dio acted like a friend at first, lulling Kakyoin into a false sense of security. He was a little intimidated, but not full on terrified. Dio didn't want to risk destroying Kakyoin's brain, finding it quite useful, so he basically tried to groom him so the fleshbud wouldn't be needed. Then once Dio realized that Kakyoin was going to be harder to control than his other minions, he implanted the fleshbud. Dio being Dio, he decided to scare the shit out of the poor kid, savoring his pain and horror and sense of betrayal.

I think I would probably feel differently giving Kakyoin this amount of baggage if I ever wrote anything canon-compliant. I also didn't add it to make him more of a wobbie or break him so Jotaro could fix him with the power of yaoi.

It means something to me that (my version of) Kakyoin went through all this shit and healed from it and went on to lead a long, happy, successful life.

[wr1t3w1tm3]

Story Idea: Taylor Swift x Travis Kelce Esque Love Story, but with a Twist.

Because: The Philidelphia Eagles Christmas Album, and Travis and Jason Kelce just put out a Christmas song.

Also that Troy Bolton as TS and TK's kid meme that's started making the round. Is it weird if I kinda wanna have the ship name be TT? Like I know a TT and she's so sweet and I feel like it fits perfectly?

Ya'll might hate me for this. Don't worry, I kinda hate me too.

So: our Travis and Jason characters and the rest of the Philly Specials group are recording in New York. During a break, the Travis character runs into our Taylor Swift character, and they chat for a few minutes and exchange social blades. They return to their respective recording sessions.

A couple weeks or a month goes by, and the Taylor Swift character receives, like, a reel from the Travis character's insta. She replies with an emoji, he says he's sorry, that he didn't mean to send that. They begin to chat. She says she'll be touring near his hometown; he says he's planning on attending with some of his teammates. Long story short, they meet up after the concert and go on a cute little covert date.

Going into the regular season, Travis' character reveals on his and Jason' characters podcast that he did have an "interaction" with the Taylor character. After they're off the mic Jasons character tries to help the Travis character invite the Taylor character to a game. He eventually does.

He's at the game (couple games into the season) and sees the Taylor Swift character on the jumbotron, next to his mother. That's how he learns she's there. This kicks off a whole relationship thing where they're finally official (going on another covert date after the game) but they rarely see each other as she's touring and he's playing all across the country and world. Eventually they'll meet up in Germany for a game (I know this didn't really happen; I'm taking some *liberties* for the story's sake) that she watches and they again, go out after. She then invites him to another concert, which he accepts. He gets to meet her father and then goes backstage.

Quick break before we go completely off the rails: I want there to be a prevailing theme of the Travis' character essentially being aware of his own mortality, especially as it's his brother's final season (most likely). He realizes he's lucky to have gotten this far (the average NFL career is like 2.5 years I've heard), but he doesn't really have anything else he could do after he's done playing. On the other hand, the Taylor Swift character has a future spread wide in front of her, but she's been burned thousands of times by media, executives, boyfriends... but there's a part of her that wants to share that with someone, and she's not sure how.

Back to the story. On a date after the concert where the Travis character meets the Taylor characters dad (essentially the Argentina concert from a couple days ago IRL time), they talk a little about their lives. How she was an up-and-coming country star at 15 and he was destined for the NFL by age 19. He talks about how his parents' marriage was bad, but they stayed under the same roof to raise him and his brother and got an amicable divorce (I will admit, I know nothing of Taylor Swifts parental situation, so I'll leave that right here for now). By the end of the night, they end up together in a hotel room (with two beds) and she starts writing on the pad of paper provided by the hotel. He falls asleep watching tv, and she reflects a bit while he's out.

The next morning, they talk a little, but he's gotta head out. Once he's gone, she sits down to write, and we start to see a song forming: something like A yard away and just out of reach. Sparks flyin' but we'll fly to far east It's poppy, it's cute. But it's a love song.

We then jump to the end(ish) of November. The Travis character is in a game and gets bodied, going unconscious on the field. He wakes up in the hospital but is otherwise okay. Just a major concussion. His mom is there and calls the Taylor Swift character, who asks if he's alright. It's pretty late/early where she's at, and she says she'll be back as soon as she can. We find out he'll be out for at least a week, if not two. The next game is in New York, so the Travis character travels with the team, spending a night with his brother in Philadelphia where they talk about his and the Taylor character's relationship. The Jason character gives him some advice, but we don't know how it lands right yet. Also, some cute interactions between the Travis character and his nieces, including the baby. They're trying to put the baby to sleep when the Jason and Travis characters have their talk.

The day before the game he gets a call from the Taylor character, asking him to come to a place. He arrives and it's a recording studio. He goes inside and she asks if he'd do some demo backing vocals for her on a couple tracks. He agrees and they have a song writing/singing session. They talk a little bit, and it's obvious he's a bit of a fish out of water but he starts to settle in. When the Taylor character shows him a song she wrote, he helps correct mistakes made in football terminology, and they get into an argument if they really have to be specific about the type of foul, and he points out that she mentioned this, this and this... but its playful. At the end of the session they nearly kiss, but instead walk out, bundled up, and decide to head to a cafe or coffee shop.

The next week is the Christmas week game. We essentially just get a cute little Skype/Facetime gift exchange where they each sent each other a gift and they open it. He got her a Chiefs/team (if it gets changed for the story) letterman's jacket with her name and 13 on the back. She gives him a cardigan that matches the next Taylor's Version Album to be released, essentially revealing it to him. It's cute, they share a moment (he's a little oblivious) and they talk. The end of the season is around the corner, and the Grammy's aren't too far out.

The final game of the regular season rolls around, and despite everything, the Taylor character can't make it. The Travis character is a little sad, but deals. His team makes it to the post season and gets the first-round bye week. So, he decides to go see her internationally again, though his coach isn't as for it this time. He reveals on his podcast that the coach said if he was gone longer than two days, he could risk his spot on the rooster for the first post-season game. In the foreign country, we find out she invites him to the Grammy's, but they would be the same night as his divisional round game.

They play and barely win their game, moving onto the Conference (AFC/NFC) championship round. We find out they had been texting back and forth, wishing each other luck, and both actually watched the others event at different points during the night. This does bring up a bit of a speed bump as now she has to go international again, and probably won't make it back if they have the Superbowl, and she's sorry. But he says he understands that sometimes you've gotta miss the big events and he really, really does understand. She promises to watch the games though.

During the AFC championship, Travis character gets hurt again and pulled off into the locker room. While there he gets a call from the Taylor character, and he says he's okay. He eventually goes out to play the rest of the game, but he's hurting. His brother, who's now out of the play offs, warns Travis that these injuries will start adding up soon. Looking ahead he sees there's a concert the day of the Superbowl and expects not to see the Taylor character there. He still wears the cardigan she gave him during the load in, and it gets everyone talking.

The team tries to cheer him up, but really to no avail. But, come Superbowl time, when he walks out, who's there waiting for him but the Taylor Character, in the letterman's jacket he gave her. They kiss and she goes up to the suite with his mom and Jason's character's family.

During the Superbowl there's some jumping between the field, the side lines, and the suite. Coach tells everyone that Travis characters girlfriend is in the house so they'd better win, and the QB (whose married with a couple kids and significantly younger than Travis) talks with him a bit on the side line. In the suite we learn that due to the time difference, the Taylor Swift character was able to hop a plane immediatly after the concert, get to the Super Bowl, and the next morning she'll fly to the next destination on her tour. She mentions how she'll invite him with her. Mom says he'd go if they loose, but he'd be obligated to stay if they won, for like a victory parade and whatever else.

Near the end the Travis character gets knocked down and comes off the field for a couple plays, but they end up on fourth down and have to kick a field goal, trying the team they're playing. Luckily there's an interception and the offense gets the ball back, but they wanna shut it down. So, in a trick play the Travis character gets the pass and scores the game winning touchdown with just over a minute left. Defense comes out and shuts them down and the crowd goes crazy. The Taylor character comes down with the rest of the Travis characters family and they celebrate on field with a nice little kiss. They celebrate with the rest of the team, then after he celebrates with the Jason character, Jason tells him to talk to his girlfriend.

The Taylor character invites the Travis character with her on the next leg of the tour, which is two days (Monday, Tuesday) in another country. After thinking a moment (and knowing the coach would get mad) he agrees, so long as they make it back in time for the victory parade. She tells him he will. He wins MVP and gifts the Disney trip to his brother, and the nieces are ecstatic. The QB thanks him as he isn't sure how he'd handle a second Disney trip with two kids under three. Travis then galivants off to the next destination on the tour.

They both return for the victory parade, where the Taylor and Travis characters appear together before the parade and during his victory speech. Afterwards they leave town and head to a suburb for a short date, where the Taylor character shows him a song she wants to put on the next Taylors Version release (the one he got the cardigan for) and asks if he'll feature. He's a bit taken a back and initially refuses, but she tells him it'll be fine. He agrees, and they head out on the rest of the tour.

We jump ahead a bit. The tour is over, Jason's character has officially retired, and Travis' character has just received his Super Bowl ring... or rather, two. He gifts Taylors character the second one. They go on recording, but he stops, suddenly. She asks what's wrong and he says he's been thinking, since he got injured earlier in the season. He reveals he's been getting weird migraines, and doctors are still running tests to figure everything out. But he thinks its about time to quit football. He's won three Super Bowls, been named MVP, there's really not much else to do except go back for more... and he doesn't want to turn into Tom Brady. He says he can't offer the Taylor Character much, but he's been smart with his money, and he thinks commercial deals will keep coming for a while. She responds that she's got a long career ahead of her, and as long as he doesn't mind being a house husband, she's got no issues. He says he's fine with that, and mentions maybe he'll got back to school and finish his degree. They go back to the song as the book comes to a close.

Optional epilogue, Travis character is at the Chiefs main office, having just told his coach his plans to retire and about the headaches. Coach walks him to the elevator and says he can't blame him with the headaches and wishes him and the Taylor Character well. After getting off the elevator he runs into the Chiefs/Royals chaplain (he's a Catholic priest who flies with the teams wherever, even when seasons overlap. He's pretty dope and apparently, I have a relative who knows him?) and the Travis character talks to him, tells him why he's there when asked, then asks if he could officiate a small wedding... but not now. The guy says he could if given enough notice. They part and that's that. End of story.