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checkeredflagggs · 5 months ago

Text

Footnote of a Story

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: Logan and his girlfriend have been together for over 10 years — people have posted about it 8 times

a/n: this is canon to the story of us story, just some backstory that probably won’t be talked about in the main story at all

a/n2: I fiddled about with the timeline of the Covid quarantine — namely that it was already happening by Valentine’s Day

a/n3: I also don’t know when Oscar and Lily started dating so here it’s when they’re 16

Masterlist | Taglist

10 Years Old

y/ns_mother

liked by sargeant1, l/n1, sargeant2, and 183 others

y/ns_mother: well it looks like y/n has a crush…she was very determined to make “the bestest card ever and make sure it’s the good candy mom!”

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sargeant1: logan was the same way…he nearly talked me into buying a bouquet bigger then is he for her

↳y/ns_mother: they’re so adorable

↳sargeant1: they really are

sargeant2: oh young love…

↳l/n1: i guess when you know you know…doesn’t matter the age…i guess

↳sargeant2: they are very cute together

randocousin: giving us all old timers a bad name 😹

↳drunkaunt: bah they won’t last…once they get to the real world…nothing ever lasts…

↳rudecousin: just cause your marriage failed doesn’t mean theirs will. You’re just a mean old drunk

↳randocousin: not this shit again…

not_y/n: not_logan I told you — I knew very young that you were the one for me

↳not_logan: I won’t doubt you again babe

↳not_y/n: I don’t know why you doubted me in the first place ngl liked by not_logan

not_oscar: oh so you guys have always been this grossly in love

↳not_y/n: booo you grinch liked by not_logan, not_lilyz

12 Years Old

y/n_mother

liked by l/n1, drunkaunt, weirduncle, sargeant3, 212 others

y/ns_mother: we might have a little baker on our hands…y/n was adamant that she had to cook these cookies all by herself

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l/n1: she didn’t even let me have one…

sargeant3: logan was beaming when he came home with these…

↳y/ns_mother: I’m not going to tell them of course…but we’ve started a little wedding fund for them

↳sargeant3: so have we. It’s very obvious where this is going to go

↳y/ns_mother: oh I can’t wait…

drunkaunt: their still together??

↳rudecousin: they’re*

↳rudecousin: and they are! Shockingly relationships can last longer then the hangover the next day

↳drunkaunt: do not start something with me…you weren’t they’re for it

↳rudecousin: there*

↳randocousin: must you rudecousin?

↳rudecousin: she makes it so easy!

↳drunkaunt: your a mean little man

↳randocousin: don’t

↳rudecousin: …you’re drunkaunt

not_logan: I didn’t know you baked those!

↳not_y/n: yeah that was the last time I attempted that

↳not_y/n: not pictured was my mom’s destroyed kitchen…liked by not_logan

14 Years Old

y/n privated a post

liked by y/ns_mother, sister, logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 469 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: 💜💜 he got me a card!

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logansargeant: I always get you a card!

↳y/n: I know but now I can post it for everyone to see!

y/ns_mother: oh to see you guys now…4 years strong

↳y/n: moooooommm go be embarrassing on your own post

oscarpiastri: so you’re the reason he couldn’t stop looking at his phone?

↳y/n: I am! And you are?

↳logansargeant: y/n this is one of my friends from karting! Meet Oscar — he’s the Australian

↳y/n: hi Australian Oscar!

↳oscarpiastri: don’t you mean best friend logansargeant?

↳y/n: HE DOES NOT CAUSE THATS ME!!

↳logansargeant: my best karting friend but the best friend spot has always been hers liked by y/n

16 Years Old

not_logan

liked by not_y/n, not_oscar, not_lilyz, and 392 others

tagged: not_y/n

not_logan: a small day spent together before someone goes off on a national tour!

Congrats baby — I’m so fucking proud of you 🩵🩵

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not_y/n: thank you babe! For both the day and for the constant support you’ve given me over the years

↳not_logan: always!

not_oscar: congrats again on the tour y/n!

↳not_y/n: thanks osc! And lmk if you can make any of the dates — I’ll get you tickets

↳not_oscar: oh Logan already has it all planned out

↳not_y/n: awwww

y/ns_mother: oh I’m so proud of you two

↳not_y/n: mom please…

↳not_logan: thanks mum l/n!

↳not_y/n: don’t encourage her!

not_lilyz: oh you guys are so cute!

↳not_y/n: thanks Lily!

↳not_y/n: and thanks again for making a private account

↳not_lilyz: oh that’s not a problem — and is probably good planning for the future

↳not_oscar:😳😳

yoursister: haven’t heard from drunkaunt in a while…she ok?

↳rudecousin: still drunk and mean

↳not_y/n: it’s just neither Logan or I friended her — in fact I blocked her on this account 😂

↳yoursister: good call

18 Years Old

not_y/n

liked by not_logan, y/ns_mother, not_oscar, not_lilyz, and 273 others

tagged: not_logan

not_y/n: awwwweee… my baby surprised me back in Florida. Thank you for coming home to me for Valentine’s Day

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not_logan: glad I managed to catch you before you leave me again 😔

↳not_y/n: nooooo I’m so sorry baby

↳not_y/n: you say the word and I’ll pack you up in my suitcase and take you everywhere with me

↳not_logan: …I’m not there yet but I’ll let you know

y/ns_mother: oh I’m so glad you managed to catch her…with my handwriting I wasn’t sure if she left the 13th or the 18th…

↳not_logan: thanks for all your help mum l/n!

↳not_y/n: thanks for helping him surprise me mama

↳y/ns_mother: of course baby

not_oscar: I don’t think that’s part of your diet Logan…

↳not_lilyz: like you haven’t cheated on yours a hundred times in the last month…

↳not_oscar: 😑😑

↳not_y/n: have I mentioned I love you recently lily?? liked by not_lilyz

rudecousin: heads up — drunkaunt spotted this over my shoulder and started a rant while going for her keys

↳not_y/n: …I’m gonna go start my tour early…

↳not_logan: I’m gonna head back to England real fast

↳yoursister: cowards

↳not_y/n: yup

↳not_logan: absolutely

20 Years Old

not_logan

liked by not_y/n, not_oscar, not_lilyz, and 231 others

tagged: not_y/n

not_logan: fun activities to do while locked up during Valentine’s Day…

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not_y/n: we’re gonna be cooking champs by the time this ends 💪🏻

↳not_logan: I love you so much but I really hope we’re not locked up that long…

↳not_y/n: 🥺🥺🥺

↳not_logan: again I love you so much but we burned water yesterday…

↳not_y/n: ok that’s fair

↳not_oscar: how???

↳not_y/n: we’re simply that talented

↳not_logan: we got distracted 😉😉

↳not_oscar: ewww I don’t need to know that liked by not_y/n, not_logan

y/ns_mother: oh I hope you guys are doing ok…I’d be there for you if I could…love you guys…

↳not_y/n: we’re doing ok mama!!

↳not_logan: …we’re not dead yet but our lack of kitchen skills are becoming more evident…

↳y/ns_mother: oh no…don’t worry baby…I’ll get yoursister to help me video you…I’ll teach you to cook…

↳not_y/n: thank you mama 🙏🙏

not_lilyz: ok so I’m a little jealous…

↳not_y/n: awwww lily we miss you!

↳not_lilyz: miss you guys too

↳not_oscar: 🤨

↳not_lilyz: …their food looks so much better than yours

↳not_y/n: at least you guys can cook something — ours is just anything we could cut into a heart shape… liked by not_lilyz, not_oscar

bandmember: you guys are so cute…

↳not_y/n: thank you 😊

↳not_y/n: also check your mail…there might be something for you…😈😈😈

↳bandmember2: oh???????

sargeant4: how’s the weather over there?

↳not_logan: 😑🙄 cold and snowy

↳not_logan: not that we can see any of it…

↳not_y/n: it could be worse!

↳not_logan: how?

↳not_y/n: we could be stuck in your apartment and not my house

↳not_logan: …that’s true I guess

22 Years Old

logansargeant posted a story, not_y/n posted a story

[thank you to my girl! 🩵🩵🩵][oh Logan my love…an ocean apart and yet you spoil me so…]

user1 replied A GIRL?!? Logan Sargeant do you have a girlfriend!

user2 replied GIRLFRIEND???

georgerussell63 replied oh that’s cute!

oscarpiastri replied maybe I need to tag Lily in this…

↳logansargeant oh she’s already seen it

↳oscarpiastri 🫣😨

↳logansargeant didn’t know you wanted flowers and presents though…

↳oscarpiastri who doesn’t…

oscarpiastri replied you guys keep setting the bar high

↳not_y/n gotta get on my level osc

↳oscarpiastri 🙄

lilyzneimer replied brb going to make Oscar take notes…

↳not_y/n he said pretty much the same thing…

↳lilyzneimer 🤣🤣

yoursister replied you guys are literally the only reason I believe in love still

↳not_y/n awww babes it’ll happen for you soon

↳yoursister maybe sooner than you think…

↳not_y/n oh???

y/ns_mother replied oh your young love…

↳not_y/n he’s the one mama

↳y/ns_mother oh baby I know…I’ve known for over a decade now…

↳not_y/n 🥰🥰🥰

25 Years Old (after the Story of Us)

y/n

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer and 12,697,283 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: You can hear it in the silence, You can feel it on the way home, You are in love, true love

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user3: oh my god so lovely!

user4: Logan Sargeant I wasn’t familiar with your game…

lilymhe: oh my god did Logan get you all that?

↳y/n: he did! He’s a real romantic

↳lilymhe: awww 🥺

↳lilymhe: alex_albon take notes please

↳alex_albon: oh no

↳oscarpiastri: oh this is very common

↳oscarpiastri: get used to it. They’ve been like this since they were 10

↳user5: shut up that’s so cute

oscarpiastri: please stop

↳logansargeant: I will not.

↳y/n: you just gotta do better

↳oscarpiastri: I try but you guys keep raising the bar

↳y/n: skill issue

↳user6: you can tell you guys have been friends for a while…

↳y/n: about 10 years now!

Taglist

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no-144444 · 4 months ago

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simple, easy life- m.verstappen

summary: an accident happens and max's life changes for the worst

pairing: max verstappen x fem! reader

warnings: main character death, death, car crashes

a/n: YUKI TO RB???? I MEAN SLAY FOR HIM BUT ALSO THE RB IS SHIT, AND POOR LIAM, AND I HATE REDBULL! (not u isack, yuki, max, or liam, but fuck u helmut marko u twat)

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Realistically, cars were Max’s first love. You weren’t disillusioned to the fact that Max was a car guy in every sense of the word, and constantly made jokes that he loved his cars more than you.

He’d never drive a car again if it meant you never got hurt like this.

He had been sitting at dinner, the most regular experience, the night before the China GP, and your best mate, Hailee, called him sobbing crying.

“Max, it’s Y/n, I have no idea what’s happened, but it’s bad. She’s in emergency surgery or something, they didn’t tell me. I just- GET HERE, alright Max. Get here.”

And she hung up as his world stopped. His entire world shattered because you were hurt, you were thousands of miles away, and he had a race tomorrow.

“Are you alright mate?” GP leaned over and questioned, his voice low.

“I have to go back to Monaco,” he announced, getting up from his chair and tucking his jacket under his arm, beginning the walk out of the restaurant.

GP fumbled to follow after him, and the voices of Helmut, Jos, and Christian calling Max back echoed through the restaurant. “Mate, what’s going on?!” GP shouted after him as they reached the streets of Shanghai.

“It’s personal,” he answered. “Get Yuki to fill my seat. Have Pepe fill his. Done.”

“Max, Christian isn’t going to take ‘it’s personal’ as a response, that’s going on?” GP grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. “What’s happened?”

“Y/n’s hurt,” he admitted, looking down. “And she needs me.”

His face fell, his jaw dropping. “My god, is she alright?”

Max shrugged, emotion catching in his throat. “I don’t know.”

He'd never seen Max like that. He’d never seen him almost cry over a girl. He’d never seen him sacrifice championship points for someone, for anyone.

“What’s going on Max?” Jos demanded, stepping out beside the two men. He placed a hand on the back of his neck, and Max tensed up.

“I have to go back to Monaco,” he answered, his voice steady. “It’s important.” “Nothing’s more important than racing-”

“Y/n is,” Max interjected. “And she’s lying in a fucking hospital bed on the other side of the world, so yes, she’s more fucking important!” he argued, slapping his father’s hand away. “We have reserve drivers for a fucking reason. Use them.”

And he walked away. Away to the airport where his jet was being stored, and he flew straight back home, catastrophizing the entire way. What if you were injured badly? What had happened? Had it been a drunk driver? Would you have serious disabilities? Would you have to take time off work? Which car were you driving, was it his? And the worst thought of all popped into his head; What if you were dead?

He pushed it back as far as he could, but still, it stayed. Lingering like the smell of your goddamn perfume on his jacket.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

All he could smell was antiseptic and a little bit of dread. It had been an exhausting 14 hour flight, one he couldn’t rest on. Max prided himself on being able to sleep through anything, and anywhere. That was not the case when it came to you.

“And how do you know the patient?” the nurse asked, pulling him out of his spiral once more.

“I’m her fiancé,” he answered, eyes glassy and heavy.

“She’s just down the hall in room 8. Be aware, it may be a bit of a jarring sight, she’s hooked up to a few machines, and she’s in an induced coma,” the nurse tried to put it as softly as she could, but no one could make that sound good, not even Bruce Buffer. “Do you want someone to accompany you? I can come in, just for moral support?” she offered, seeing the way Max’s body language changed at her words.

He chuckled sadly. “You’re very kind, but no. Thank you.”

She nodded and he walked on. He needed to do this on his own, mostly because he didn’t really know what he was walking into. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but he knew he was going to stand by you forever, if that’s how long this took. Though he hoped it wouldn’t. He hoped you’d pull through, get strong again, do all the things you wanted with your life.

Be there with him while you both grew old, have you care for him even when no one remembered his name.

Be in love. Get married. Have that small family you always wished for.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You died at 1.33am. The universe was taunting him, clearly. He held your hand. He didn’t call the nurse. He just sat there for a few moments, trying to imagine a future without you. He fucking couldn’t. His whole life was centred around you, around you being in it. After F1 he would just stay in Monaco with you, spend his days watching his kids grow up. He would walk them to school in the mornings and bring you back a coffee from your favourite shop, maybe a cinnamon roll on a Friday, or everyday. Depends on what you’d let him do. He’d come in, coffees in hand, and bring yours to you in bed, or maybe in your office. Maybe you’d kiss him. Maybe you’d smile one of those perfect smiles of yours. Maybe it wouldn’t matter, because you both knew you had another chance the next day.

And all of that was gone. You were gone.

So what was meant to happen now?

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

But he had to. He ran through all the motions, he signed the paperwork, and he picked out the casket.

But he should’ve been picking up the kids from school, holding your hand and kissing you, even if it embarrassed them.

It should’ve been a simple, easy life.

But it wasn’t.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

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redbull & vcarb masterlist

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mythtakens · 3 months ago

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sorry for endlessly posting about this it will happen again. to be totally clear I have literally nothing against healthy skepticism or doubt like it’s totally warranted. I don’t expect anyone to just buy into the Bobby being buried alive theory if they can’t or don’t want to. but saying there’s no way 911 WOULD do a MCD fakeout and bury someone alive to wake up inside their own coffin and lie about it is just. kind of silly to say? not only is that good tv, this is a show that revels in being wacky and has done countless absurd things to main characters that they reasonably should not have survived. if you can survive rebar through the middle of your skull, falling through multiple floors of a collapsing high rise, a helicopter crash AND gunfire, a ladder truck rolling over on you, a tsunami, getting shot by a sniper in the street, getting struck by lightning, getting stabbed in the gut and left for dead, your house burning down two separate times, a cruise ship flipping over, viral encephalitis, entire dispatch ceiling collapsing on top of you, angel of death paramedic defibrillating your heart multiple times, being buried under 40 feet of mud, a bridge collapse, getting your throat slashed by a serial killer, an astrophysics lab exploding, a hostage situation, another hostage situation, another hostage situation, commercial airliner falling out of the sky that you have to land, literally your heart not beating on its own for 14 minutes, a dog driving a car on fire down a hill, and the same virus. among other things. idk I think they can bury a guy alive after killing him in a way no other character is allowed to physically confirm and saying he’s dead. personally. on the show where like three separate calls have involved someone being buried alive and one of those was this season and they’ve also had a separate guy wake up on the autopsy table before. whether you think they are doing it or not doesn’t really matter. but if you ask me it does kind of seem even more ridiculous to claim they would never do it.

#my two favorite things ranting and raving #911 spoilers #911 speculation #tv: 911

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ysljoon · 4 months ago

Text

Watching and Waiting| JJK

♡pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

♡wc: 3.1k

♡genre: smut, age gap, friends to lovers (if you squint ig), non-idol au

♡ warnings: age gap (JK is 19 and reader is 23), unprotected sex, dirty talking, cumshots, noona kink

♡summary: You've known Jungkook since he was the 10 year old shy kid in the neighborhood and as the years have gone by you've continued to baby him. Now that he's older he wants to prove to you how much of a man he's become.

MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

“Hyung! Please just for this week I need you to tutor me!” Jungkook was currently pleading like his life depended on it with Namjoon to have him tutor him for his upcoming physics exam. “Dude, I’m booked out for the semester for tutoring. I already told you my cousin can help you with it.” That wasn’t what Jungkook wanted to hear at all. “Please I’ll pay you a hundred bucks just to cancel your other sessions!” Namjoon raised his eyebrow at this knowing Jungkook doesn’t even have a part-time job. “And where are you getting that money from?” Jungkook scraped his heel against the sidewalk with a pout. “From Jin Hyung…” Namjoon shook his head and sighed at the answer.

“Kook I don’t see why Y/N can’t just tutor you. She’s just as smart if not more than me. You’ll be in good hands.” He patted Jungkook’s shoulder and started to walk away from him. Jungkook slumped down on a bench and ran his hand through his hair mussing it. The main reason he didn’t want you to tutor him was because he’s had a crush on you since he was 10 years old. It was embarrassing, to say the least. He’s now 19 and you’re 23 in your first semester of your master’s program. Even though the age gap wasn’t that big you never saw him as more than just Namjoon’s youngest friend. He wanted to be able to show you he’s grown up now, but yet you still baby him.

The first time you met Jungkook was at Namjoon’s 14th birthday party. Namjoon invited all the neighborhood kids and Jungkook was just a doe-eyed quiet kid in the cul-de-sac. When you arrived at the party, Jungkook swore his eyes started twinkling. He remembers it vividly. You were also 14 and still had braces at the time and when you walked in with a cheesy party hat and big grin ready to get the festivities started. You mingled with your family never losing that big grin. As you were sitting down eating a slice of confetti cake Namjoon brought Jungkook in tow with him and had his arm wrapped around Jungkook’s lanky frame. “Y/N, this is Jungkook! He’s new to the neighborhood so I wanted to invite him.” With frosting at the corner of your lips, you gave him a big hug. “Aww, you’re a little baby! Hi Jungkook, welcome to the neighborhood.” You pinched his cheek like you were his mom. He felt flustered from all the sudden physical touch from a girl as pretty as you. “H-hi Noona, nice to meet you.” He couldn’t even make eye contact with you. Instead, he kept his gaze focused on the blades of grass that were swaying in the wind. For the rest of the party, you didn’t pay him much mind, but he had his eyes set on you.

When Jungkook got to his freshman year of high school, you were in your senior year. He felt like now since he was a teenager you would pay more attention to him. He was so wrong. You had a boyfriend at the time named Yoongi that he was not very fond of. Jungkook still has the memory of Min Yoongi fondling you and a hand up your skirt behind the science building during lunch break seared into his brain. He wanted that to be him instead. The relationship had a good run for a high school relationship (it lasted 9 months). Those 9 months were agonizing for Jungkook. He had found out about the breakup when he was over at Namjoon’s after school to play video games and you came bursting through the door with mascara running down your cheeks. You had explained to Joon how Yoongi broke up with you out of the blue through broken sobs as you clung to him. Jungkook felt terrible for how happy he was at the time knowing that that obstacle was out of the way for him.

At your graduation, Jungkook showed up with the rest of your family to watch you and Namjoon walk across the stage and start your endeavors as college students. At the end of the ceremony when your parents were taking pictures of the three of you together you gave Jungkook a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for coming, Kookie, it means a lot.” He still has the picture framed on his desk of that day. He finally thought you were starting to acknowledge him.

Now he’s at the same college as you and there has been no progress for him. Sighing he was scrolling on his phone waiting for Jin to pick him up from campus since he didn’t own a car yet. A sudden vibration to his phone let him know he had just gotten a text message. It was a message from you.

Y/N Noona: hey kookie! Joon let me know you needed a physics tutor. Let me know when you’re available and you can just come over to my place so I can see what you need help with.

Y/N Noona: p.s. I won’t charge you like Joon would 😉

Jungkook’s hands were clammy just from reading the texts. He’s never been to your apartment. Every time you guys hung out it was at Joon’s place. His heart was beating out of his chest.

Jeon Baby: thx noona can I come over tomorrow at 3 pm? I won’t be there too long I just need to review for the final exam.

Jungkook cringed at his message. He felt it was too formal for you. He stuck his phone in his pocket and tried his best to ignore it even though a single vibration from it would feel like the phone was burning his pockets. Jin pulled up right next to the curb and Jungkook jumped in and put on his seatbelt silently. He could see from the corner of his eye that Jin was scrutinizing him for some reason.

“Dude, why are your ears so red? Are you embarrassed to be picked up by your hyung all of a sudden?” Jin’s voice started to rise and Jungkook needed to find a way to diffuse the situation quickly before Jin’s mouth could start going a mile a minute.

“It’s nothing dude stop being weird! You know I’m grateful for all the rides you give me, calm down.” Junkook huffs in his seat and looks out the window. He hates when Jin antagonizes him.

Once Jin pulled into the driveway Jungkook bolted out before the car came to a full stop and charged upstairs. He locked himself in his bedroom and started to do all the things he could do to make himself look better. He took a long shower and washed his hair with the shampoo you’d complimented him on before. He shaved any stubble that was growing in and even put on teeth-whitening strips and a sheet mask. He wanted to look perfect for you tomorrow. Tomorrow was not gonna be an ordinary day, it was going to be the day he could finally show you he’s a man. ‘Kookie’ is a side of him that doesn’t exist anymore and it’s only Jungkook now.

Once night came Jungkook tossed and turned in his bed, his body filled with anticipation. His mind raced going through all the scenarios that could possibly happen tomorrow. He didn’t know how you would react if he were to make advances towards you and as much as Jungkook would put on a brave face, he would be shattered if you couldn’t reciprocate back.

As Jungkook was finally able to calm his mind and start to drift off to sleep his phone vibrated. He snatched it from under his pillow and his heart almost leaped out of his chest when he saw it was a text from you. You never text him this late. Jungkook looked at his clock to confirm what time it currently was and it was a quarter till midnight. His hands started to get damp as he swiped the notification to see what you said.

Y/N Noona: hey kookie! my noon appointment got cancelled if you wanna fill that spot but if that time doesn’t work then we can stick with 3 pm

Jungkook was slightly disappointed that you were texting him solely because of the tutoring session.

Jeon Baby: sounds good noona i’ll see you at 12! goodnight.

Y/N Noona: goodnight kook! 🥱 i’ll treat you to lunch tomorrow depending on how well you do during our session!! 😉

Jungkook couldn’t help but grin at your use of emojis it was so cute to him. He adjusted his alarm and finally let himself sleep.

Jungkooks nerves were through the roof he woke up hours before his alarm. The sliver of sun that was rising and peeking through his window was enough to have him wide awake and staring at his ceiling. He decided to just give up and scroll on his phone to kill time until he needed to get ready for his tutor session.

He stared at himself in the mirror one last time as he spritzed his cologne to make sure he looked presentable for you. He threw on a gray tracksuit set with the zipper zipped far enough down that you could see the thin gold chain he had and the tight tank top he put on that accentuated every muscle in his chest and abs. His hair was tousled just enough with mousse to accentuate the waves in his hair.

Jungkook trotted down the stairs and waited by the front door where Jin was, busy twiddling his keys in his hand.

“You look awfully nice for what’s supposed to be just a tutoring session. You have a date after or something?” Jin sized up Jungkook once, to fully observe what he was wearing. “You could call it something like that, hyung.” Jin just scoffs and opens the door without regarding Jungkook.

The car ride was short since you live about 10 minutes away, but Jungkook voted against walking to your place since he didn’t want to be sweaty as soon as he got there. Jin pulled up into the parking lot of your apartment complex. “Text me when you’re done or let me know if Y/N is gonna drive you back home. Also please actually try and pay attention.” Jungkook squinted at his hyung’s comment. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means actually listening to what Y/N is teaching you instead of ogling. I know how you get around her.” Jungkooks cheeks flush and he starts to look at every spot in the car except for where Jin is sitting. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about dude.” “Well anyone with eyes would know what I’m talking about.” Jungkook scoffs and gets out of the car without giving any further comments to Jin.

He raises his hand to your front door to knock and the door swings open before his knuckle can connect with the wood. “Kook! You made it/ Come in, come in!” Your excitement about his presence makes his heart swell with happiness. His eyes raked over your body and your outfit was enough to make him chub up a bit in his pants. It wasn’t even a sexy outfit, but because you’re wearing it it’s the sexiest thing Jungkook has ever laid his eyes on. You’re wearing black sweatpants and a thin white tank top that was clearly a size too small that pushed your cleavage together in the most perfect way and gave him a peek at the black bra you were wearing. “Noona, are we gonna study in the living room or your room?” Jungkook piped up as he watched you scurry to the kitchen and get a bottle of water for him. “Oh, usually I do the living room for my students, but you’re not just any student so we can just do it in my room to keep it relaxed!” You usher him upstairs and he smirks that he’s so easily getting you in the position that he wants you to be.

The lesson started 30 minutes ago, and for 20 out of the 30 minutes, Jungkook has been distracted. Your lips look so soft and plush and he can’t help but think about how they would look wrapped around him. “Jungkook? Are you even listening to me?” Your eyebrows are furrowed and your lips are pouty. You look so fucking cute right now. “I am Noona I swear. Can we take a 10 minute break though? My brain is getting tired.” You closed the book and obliged him. “Sure Kookie>” You gave him such a kind smile, but he couldn’t help but grimace. “Noona can you not call me that anymore? It makes me feel like a baby.” “Aw Kookie, but you’re my baby.” You pinched his cheek, and within the next beat, you were suddenly flipped over with your back pressed against the bed and Jungkook on top of you with him pinning your hands above your head. You looked up at him with bewildered eyes.

“Kook, w-what’s go-” His smirking at this current predicament sends shivers down your spine. “Noona, I’m a man now, and I want to be treated like one. You can’t look at me anymore and see the scrawny little boy I used to be. I’ve grown up so well don’t you think?” His breath fanned the shell of your ear and caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. “C'mon, noona let me show you how well I’ve grown up. Will you let me?” He took his hand and swept away some of the stray hair across your forehead. Your mind was reeling at everything happening so fast, but the dry spell you’ve had for the past 6 months has you nodding and Jungkook’s proposition before you think twice. “Aw noona I wanna hear you. I want to hear you say you want me.” His grin was devious. “I want you Jungkook please.”

This spurred him into action immediately. His lips were on the column of your neck in no time and the kisses he left were sloppy and wet and the way his hands gripped your waist had you bucking into his touch to get more. His hands traveled under your shirt and bra to grip your tits. The way his chain was dangling in your face and his fingers rolled your nipples with the perfect amount of pressure was dizzying. Hearing your whimpers just spurred him on more. “Noona don’t I make you feel so good? I touch you in all the right places and I have your body begging for my touch more and more.” His fingers trailed down into your sweatpants and he yanked them down in a single quick motion. Feeling so exposed you started to desperately unzip his hoodie and clutch onto his tank top to signal him to take it off.

“Aw noona you’re so needy. Tell me what you want and I’ll make you feel so much better.” His cooing made your body hot from embarrassment, but you cared more about cumming at this point than your dignity. “F-fuck Kook, I want you to finger me or just fuck me at this point. I don’t care! I just wanna cum please.” His eyes darkened after hearing your pleas. “I can arrange for that to happen baby don’t you worry.” Two of his fingers reached into your core ever so slowly and it was agonizing feeling him take his time. The way they pumped in and out had you crying for release. The sight of your tears had Jungkook sneering. “Like I said, tell me what you want noona the tears won’t help your case.” He ran his thumb across your cheek to sweep away the stray tear. “I can’t take it anymore please fuck me!” That’s all Jungkook needed to hear.

He yanked off his sweatpants and boxers in a rush and lined himself up with your hole in seconds. He teased you with the head of his cock by just barely pressing into your cunt. Watching your cunt weep around the tip of his cock had him groaning. Jungkook was by no means small and just seeing his length had you holding your breath for what was about to come. “Noona you gotta relax for me so I don’t hurt you.” His tone was the softest it’s been since the start of this encounter. You nodded and tried to relax your body and as soon as you felt that mind-numbing pressure start to build in your core you tensed again. The squeeze of your cunt around Jungkook’s length had him gripping onto your hips to try and stabilize himself. “D-don’t do that or else I’m gonna cum now.”

Once he was sheathed deep inside you his thrusts started to get stronger and stronger. Yours and Jungkook’s moans mixed with the sounds of his balls clapping your ass and your tits slapping together from the sheer force of how hard he was fucking you had you drooling. All composure was lost. “Noona I know you love the way I fuck you. Nobody else can make you feel as good as I do. All those other guys out there would just waste your time. I’m everything you need and more noona. Say it! I wanna hear you say you don’t need anybody else but me.” Jungkook’s possessiveness made your pussy leak from arousal. “F-fuck Jungkook you’re all I need! You fuck me so good and no other guy could fuck as g-good as you.” Jungkook was as smug as ever now. “Damn right.” His thrusts got rougher and his fingers rubbed your clit at an intoxicating pace. “Kook f-fuck I’m about to cum!” “Me too noona. Where do you want it?” “On my tits.” You were gasping to get the words out with how worked up you were. The moans you released as you rode out your orgasm were pornographic, Jungkook grunted as he painted you with his release.

The two of you just lay there in silence for a few minutes without even making eye contact. Where is there to go from here? You look over and Jungkook has a wide grin on his face and you quirk your eyebrow at his unexpected behavior. “Do you think I’ve grown up well enough noona? Did I finally prove it to you?” His words caused you to giggle. “You grew up so very well kookie. I think you deserve to be treated to some lunch.” You planted a gentle kiss on his cheek and seeing his face flush caused your heart to skip a beat.

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honeydippedfiction · 2 months ago

Note

Joe x Angel Angst Prompt #42 “You Promised” with #14 “Don’t you dare walk away from me” with fluff prompt #35 “ I just want to be there for you.”

Whew this one is a lot… prepare your heartstrings (also takes place when they’re still engaged so pre-Zariyah era)

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#42 “You Promised”, #14 “Don’t you dare walk away from me” & #35 “ I just want to be there for you.”

Joe Burrow x Angel

�� you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Angel adjusted the gold necklace resting just above the neckline of her sleek black dress—the same one Joe had picked out for her birthday last year during a surprise trip to New Orleans. She could still remember the way he’d stood behind her in the boutique mirror, arms wrapped around her waist, whispering that she looked like everything the world didn’t deserve.

Now, in the quiet of her hotel suite’s bathroom, she stared at her reflection. Flawless makeup. Confident eyes. The ESPN badge clipped to her waist was a reminder that she’d earned this. After years grinding on the sidelines, chasing quotes in freezing locker rooms, she wasn’t just reporting on college football anymore.

Tonight, she was hosting—live, in front of the country—at the College Football Awards.

It was everything she had worked toward.

The moment she’d dreamt about when she was pulling double shifts during grad school, when she was the only Black woman on set, when she was told to smile more and talk less. All of it led here.

And Joe had promised he’d be there. Not just as her fiancé, but as her partner. As her biggest supporter.

She could still hear his voice from the week before, warm and certain: “Babe, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You’ve supported me through everything—now it’s my turn.”

But he had missed it.

Three hours after the stage lights dimmed, after the cameras stopped rolling and the congratulatory hugs faded into the background, Angel stood alone in the driveway of their Cincinnati home. Her heels dangled from two tired fingers, her arches aching, but that pain was nothing compared to the tight, bruised feeling in her chest.

The sky was a soft charcoal above her, clouds hanging low, the kind of Midwest night where the air tasted like rain even if it never came.

She took a breath, lingering at the driver’s side of her car, part of her still hoping—still foolishly clinging to the idea—that maybe something had gone wrong. Maybe he had made it home early and was waiting upstairs, half-asleep in his clothes, her segment paused on the TV. Maybe there was a good reason.

She unlocked the front door quietly, slipping inside. The familiar scent of pinewood and lavender greeted her. The living room was dim, lit only by the soft flicker of the lamp beside the couch.

And there he was.

Joe was curled up on the sofa, hoodie loose around his frame, legs stretched out, his face bathed in the cold blue glow of his iPad. One headphone dangled from his neck. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, locked onto film breakdown, fingers tapping occasionally to rewind or freeze a frame.

He didn’t look up until the door clicked shut.

“Hey,” he said casually, glancing at her like she’d just come back from the grocery store. “How’d it go?”

Angel didn’t speak right away. She just stared at him. Her hand tightened around her keys.

“You weren’t there,” she said quietly.

Joe’s smile faltered. The guilt on his face wasn’t sudden—it had been there, simmering just beneath the surface. He sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat.

“Angel… I know. I—Coach called a team meeting last minute. There was new breakdown footage from practice, and he needed us to—”

“No.” Her voice sliced through the space between them, sharp and clean. “Don’t start with that.”

Joe’s brow furrowed. “I’m not making excuses. I just—”

“You promised, Joe.”

He sighed and set the iPad on the coffee table. “I swear, I wanted to be there. I was watching the time the whole meeting. But it ran long, and by the time I thought about leaving, it was—”

“Wanted to be?” she repeated, her laugh sharp and bitter. “That’s supposed to be enough now? Wanting?”

Joe stood, rubbing his hands down his thighs like he could scrub the guilt off. “Angel, come on. You know what my schedule’s like. It’s not like I was sitting here playing Xbox. This is my job. You knew this is what life with me was going to be.”

“Exactly,” she snapped, stepping closer. “It’s always your job. Always football. Always something more important than me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No?” Her arms crossed over her chest, shoulders drawn tight. “What’s not fair is standing on a national stage, my first time ever doing live television, with my heart in my throat, looking for your face in the crowd and praying you'd walk through the doors. Thinking maybe you got caught in traffic, maybe you were running late, maybe—maybe—you gave enough of a damn to show up. But you didn’t. Just like last time. Just like every time.”

Joe’s jaw clenched. “You knew what this life was when you signed up for it.”

Angel blinked. Slowly.

Her voice dropped an octave, calm now. Dangerous. “I didn’t sign up to be a footnote in your life, Joe. I signed up for you. I thought we were building something together. But I’m starting to feel like I’m doing the building and you’re just passing through.”

The silence that followed was immediate and suffocating.

Angel turned sharply, walking down the hallway without another word. The sound of her suitcase rolling open and the zip of fabric felt louder than any argument.

Joe followed, pausing in the doorway of their bedroom, watching as she began throwing clothes into a duffel bag with a methodical, practiced rhythm.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice tight.

“To Monica’s.”

“You’re seriously leaving over this?”

Angel paused at the dresser, her hand hovering over the engagement ring that had once symbolized the future they were building together. She looked at it for a long moment—her finger, the precious metal, the diamond that had been a promise, now feeling heavier than ever.

Then, without a word, she took the ring off and set it gently on the counter. The sound of the band meeting the stone felt louder than it should have in the silence of the room.

She looked at him. Her eyes were tired now—not angry. Just disappointed.

“I need space, Joe.”

Joe took a step forward. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

That stopped her cold.

Angel slowly turned, her face unreadable. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”

“Angel—”

“No,” she said, yanking her arm back when he reached for it. Her voice cracked, but her stance held. “Until you can respect me—until you can treat this relationship like it matters—consider our engagement over.”

It hit him like a blindside sack. His lips parted, but no words came.

She slung the duffel over her shoulder, grabbed her keys off the dresser, and walked out. No tears. No dramatic pause. Just the sound of the front door clicking shut, quiet and final, as if the house itself exhaled in her absence.

Joe remained where he was, still trying to make sense of what just happened. His legs felt like lead, his hands trembling, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. Not now.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the house, like the softest slap of finality. No tears. No dramatic pause. Just the quiet, irreversible exit.

And then, she was gone.

Joe stood there in the silence, his heart pounding, his mind racing with all the things he should’ve said, should’ve done. The house around him felt colder somehow. The weight of Angel’s absence pressed in on him, suffocating the air. And there, in the center of their once-shared home, was the ring. The promise that had slipped through his fingers.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭.·:¨༺༻¨:·.⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

The night air hit Angel like a slap the moment she stepped outside. Cold. Final. The door shut behind her with a dull click, but inside her chest, it sounded more like a door slamming shut on something sacred.

She didn’t even remember getting into her car. Her hands moved on autopilot—key in the ignition, seatbelt pulled, drive. The streets blurred as she drove through Cincinnati’s quiet neighborhoods, the city lights casting shadows across her dashboard.

And still, no tears.

Not at first.

It wasn’t until she pulled up to Monica’s apartment complex—a beige three-story building tucked behind a row of oak trees—that the adrenaline wore off. That’s when her breath caught in her throat. That’s when the first sob ripped out of her like it had been waiting all night.

By the time she reached Monica’s door, she was trembling. Her fist knocked harder than she intended, but her control had slipped. All of it had slipped.

The door opened within seconds. Monica appeared in plaid pajama pants, a bonnet secured over her tight curls, a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in one hand and a face mask half-applied. Her eyes widened immediately.

“Angel?” Her voice sharpened. “Girl, what the hell—what happened?”

Angel tried to answer. Tried to say I’m okay, or It’s nothing, or Can I crash here for the night? But the only thing that came out was a choked sob.

And then she broke.

Monica didn’t hesitate. She stepped aside, looping an arm around her best friend’s shoulders and ushering her inside like she was guiding someone out of a burning building.

“Okay. Sit down. I got you.”

Angel dropped her bag by the door and collapsed onto Monica’s couch, tears streaming freely now, her body shaking. Monica knelt in front of her, one hand holding Angel’s and the other reaching for a blanket from the armrest.

“Breathe. Just breathe, okay?”

Angel nodded, but her breath came in gasps.

Monica waited, rubbing her thumb over Angel’s knuckles until her breathing finally slowed. When Angel was able to wipe her face and speak, the first words came in a hoarse whisper.

“He didn’t show.”

Monica blinked. “What?”

“For the awards,” Angel said. “He promised me, Monica. He swore he’d be there.”

Monica sat back, her expression darkening. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Angel shook her head. “I kept looking at the crowd, thinking maybe he’d walk in late, maybe he’d surprise me. But he didn’t come. I got home, and he was just there. On the couch. Watching film.”

“You’re kidding me,” Monica said flatly. “Watching game film?”

Angel nodded, another tear slipping down her cheek. “Like it was just another Tuesday. No apology, no flowers, no effort.” Her voice broke. “And I—I just snapped.”

“Damn right you did.” Monica stood up, pacing now. “After everything you’ve done for that man? After all the times you’ve canceled things for him, traveled with him, bent over backward to support his ass—and he can’t show up for the biggest night of your career?”

Angel looked down at her lap. “I told him I needed space. That I was coming here.”

“You did the right thing,” Monica said without hesitation. “He needed to hear it. He needed to see that you won’t sit around waiting for him to finally remember you’re not just the woman in his house—you’re the woman who’s next to him, or supposed to be.”

Angel winced. “I told him to consider the engagement over.”

Monica stopped in her tracks. “Good.”

Angel looked up. “Mon—”

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice low but fierce. “If he can’t treat you with the respect you’ve earned, then he doesn’t get to wear that ring like it’s a badge of honor. You’ve always been more than someone’s fiancée. You’re Angel Carter. You don’t need a man who only shows up when it’s convenient.”

Angel wrapped the blanket tighter around herself, her voice small. “I still love him.”

Monica’s expression softened, and she returned to the couch, taking Angel’s hand again. “I know. And maybe he loves you, too. But loving someone means more than saying it. It means showing up. Not just when it’s easy. Especially when it’s not.”

Angel nodded slowly, her tears finally slowing, her body exhausted.

“Get some sleep,” Monica murmured. “I’ll make waffles in the morning. You’re not going anywhere until you’ve had carbs and clarity.”

Angel managed a soft, tired smile through the ache in her chest. “I love you.”

“Love you too, babe,” Monica said. “And just so you know, if I do see Joe in the street tomorrow, I’m fighting him. That’s not a threat—it’s a premonition.”

That pulled a short laugh from Angel, a watery one, but real. It wasn’t healing yet. But it was the first breath after drowning.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭.·:¨༺༻¨:·.⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

The first night at Monica’s, Angel barely slept.

She spent most of it curled on the couch under the weight of a fleece blanket and her own thoughts, staring at the ceiling fan slowly spinning above her. Her phone buzzed twice—both messages from Joe.

She didn’t read them.

She couldn’t.

The next morning, she awoke to the smell of cinnamon and the distant hiss of Monica’s waffle maker. She shuffled into the kitchen, hair tied up, hoodie draped over her petite frame. Monica handed her a plate and a side-eye full of sisterly concern.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Angel said preemptively.

“Didn’t ask,” Monica replied, pouring syrup like it was holy oil. “But I’ll listen when you’re ready.”

Angel spent most of that day in sweats, watching reruns of A Different World and only half-listening. Her mind drifted back to that moment in their hallway—Joe reaching for her like he could fix everything with a hand on her arm. The way his face had changed when she told him to consider the engagement over.

She hadn’t said it to be cruel.

She had said it because it hurt too much to pretend anymore.

By Thursday, her emotions had shifted. The anger wasn’t gone, but now it was folded beneath layers of sorrow and confusion. Every time her phone buzzed, her heart jumped. What if he was saying the right thing now? What if he wasn’t saying anything?

She didn’t check. Not yet.

Friday came with silence. Monica went to the studio for a podcast taping and left Angel with the apartment to herself. Alone, Angel found herself scrolling through old photos—tailgates at LSU, their first NFL Draft night, the weekend in Miami when Joe told her, “I don’t know what the future looks like, but I know you’re in it.”

She had believed him.

By Saturday, the air was heavier. Something about weekends had always made Angel feel closer to him. Their lazy mornings. Coffee in mismatched mugs. Her feet on his lap while they watched film or movies. The ritual of love, in quiet moments.

But tonight was different.

They had planned dinner at Joe’s parents’ house weeks ago. Robin was making her infamous shrimp étouffée. It was supposed to be the kind of warm, casual night they both loved—family, wine, a break from the chaos.

Angel stayed on the couch, her phone on silent beside her, as Monica made sangria in the kitchen. She couldn’t face Robin. Couldn’t put on a brave face and pretend that everything wasn't unraveling.

Across town, the Burrow house was quieter than usual.

Dinner was ready. The table was set for six, though only five were seated.

Robin stirred her wine and looked at the empty chair beside Joe.

“Where’s Angel?” she asked casually, not yet suspicious, just curious.

Joe didn’t meet her eyes. He poked at his rice and shrugged. “She couldn’t make it.”

Robin blinked, surprised. “That’s not like her. She’s never missed a family dinner.”

“I know.”

Silence settled over the table, but Robin didn’t let it rest.

“She okay?”

Joe swallowed hard. “We, uh… we had a fight.”

Robin set down her wine. “What kind of fight?”

Joe shook his head, still not looking up. “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

“She just… needed space.”

Robin let the words hang there for a beat. Then, without a word, she reached for her phone, walked out of the dining room, and stepped onto the back porch.

She didn’t need to ask for Angel’s number. She had it saved.

It rang twice.

“Robin?” Angel’s voice came on the other end, hesitant.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Robin said gently, but there was a steel edge beneath the warmth. “I missed you tonight.”

Angel’s breath caught. “I’m sorry. I… I couldn’t come.”

Robin’s voice softened. “You don’t have to apologize to me, honey. But I would like to know what happened.”

There was a long pause. Angel considered dodging, softening the truth. But she was tired of pretending.

“He promised he’d be at the College Football Awards,” she said quietly. “He didn’t show. I came home to find him watching film like it was just another Tuesday night. And I broke.”

Robin exhaled sharply. “He didn’t show up for you?”

“No. And not just that night. It’s been building for a while. I feel like I’m standing alone in this relationship, and when I told him that, he got defensive. I told him I needed space… that I was leaving.”

Robin’s voice went cold. “And he let you?”

Angel didn’t respond. She didn’t have to.

There was a beat of heavy silence.

“Well,” Robin said finally, her voice rising just slightly, “you may not be my daughter by blood, but I love you like one. And I’m not going to sit back and watch my son sabotage the only good thing that’s ever happened to him.”

Angel closed her eyes. Her heart ached from the kindness, from the clarity of being seen.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Robin didn’t respond right away. But when she did, her voice was low, firm, and meant for one person only.

“I did not raise him to be this man. And if he doesn’t wake up soon and check into reality, he’s going to lose the only woman who’s stood by him through everything. And believe me, Angel—he knows it.”

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭.·:¨༺༻¨:·.⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

Robin stepped back into the house, the sliding door gliding shut behind her with a soft click. But the shift in her presence was anything but soft. The warmth in her smile was gone, replaced by a cool determination that made everyone at the dinner table sit up a little straighter.

Joe looked up instinctively. The second he saw her face, he knew.

He’d never been afraid of his mother. Not as a boy, not as a man. But right now, seated at the table like nothing was burning around him, he felt something close.

Robin crossed her arms and stared at him.

“Get in the kitchen,” she said.

A few glances darted across the table. Everyone else fell silent as Joe pushed his chair back with a scrape and followed his mother into the kitchen. He didn’t need a map to know where this was headed—he could feel the storm coming before she even opened her mouth.

Joe blinked. “What?”

“I said get up. Now.”

The scrape of his chair against the hardwood was the only sound as he followed her. Once they were out of earshot of the others—just past the pantry, near the fridge—Robin turned on him.

“I just got off the phone with Angel.”

Joe’s heart sank, but he kept his jaw tight. “I figured.”

Robin’s voice was low, sharp as a blade. “You figured? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he muttered, but it sounded weak, even to him.

Robin leaned forward, her eyes fierce. “Don’t you dare minimize this. You broke a promise to her. Not just any promise—a big one. Her night, Joe. After all the times she’s been there for you. After all the ways she’s had your back, stayed quiet, made space for your career, smiled for cameras when she wanted to cry. And you couldn’t show up for her once? She didn’t come tonight because she couldn’t bring herself to sit across from you and pretend like you didn’t break her heart.”

Joe’s stomach sank.

He opened his mouth, but Robin wasn’t done.

She raised a hand, and he immediately fell silent.

“No. You don’t get to talk yet. You get to listen.”

“Do you understand how lucky you are that that girl even looked at you twice, let alone stayed with you through everything? Through the chaos, the injuries, the relocations, the media—she’s been there. Constant. Loyal. Proud of you. Loving you out loud, in front of the world. I’m not saying this as her friend. I’m saying this as your mother. You want to be a franchise quarterback? A leader? A grown man who earns respect? Then you better start with the woman who’s been holding you down since LSU.”

Joe’s chest rose and fell, slow and tight. He’d felt guilt before—but this? This was something deeper. A sinking realization that he hadn’t just made a mistake—he had wounded something sacred.

“And you couldn’t be bothered to show up for her,” Robin said. “Her night. A night she earned, worked for, dreamed of. You left her alone in that room, looking for your face and realizing you weren’t coming.”

Joe’s shoulders tensed. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be there—”

“Wanting isn’t doing,” she snapped. “She didn’t need you to want to show up. She needed you to be there. In the seat you said you’d sit in. Supporting her like she’s supported you through injuries, media storms, trades, and a schedule that devours every minute of your life.”

“Mom, I—”

“No.” Her voice dropped, quiet and lethal. “Joseph Lee Burrow.”

Joe froze.

That was it.

The full government name. Robin hadn’t said it since he was sixteen and wrecked her Camry backing out of the driveway too fast. Back then, he’d known it meant he’d crossed a line.

Now, hearing it again, as a grown man, the shame hit him in the chest like a linebacker.

“You didn’t just miss a dinner,” Robin continued, voice trembling now—not from anger, but from disbelief. “You missed her. And then, when she called you on it, you let her walk out that door instead of fighting for her. You let her pack a bag and leave. She told me she called off the engagement. Do you even get what that means?”

Joe’s throat was dry. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” she snapped. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting at this table acting like you’re just giving her space. You’d be on your feet, in your car, at her door, doing whatever it takes to win her back.”

He looked down at the tile floor, hands braced on the edge of the counter. The image of Angel walking out—her bag over her shoulder, her eyes full of fire and heartbreak—played in his head like punishment.

“I didn’t raise a man who hides behind excuses or expects the people who love him to always be the ones bending. I raised a man who knows how to apologize. A man who knows when he’s wrong and makes it right.”

Joe’s throat tightened. “I know I messed up.”

“Messed up doesn’t even cover it, Joseph,” she said, using his full name now. “She left your house. She’s staying at Monica’s. And she told me to my face that she called off the engagement.”

He flinched.

Robin took a breath, softer this time. But no less serious.

“She loves you. But love isn’t a one-way commitment. And you are this close—this close—to losing the best thing that’s ever happened to you because you’re too buried in game tape to notice the person in front of you is drowning.”

Joe leaned against the counter, hand to his face. “I know,” he whispered. “God, I know.”

Robin stared at him for another moment, and then walked closer, her tone dropping to something gentler.

“I adore that woman,” she said. “She’s strong, she’s brilliant, she’s loyal. She chose you—not the NFL, not the spotlight. You. And you’ve got one chance, maybe two, to make this right before she walks away and never looks back.”

Joe nodded slowly, the weight of his mother’s words settling into his bones.

“Figure it out,” Robin said, pointing a finger at him like it was gospel. “Because if you don’t, she’s not going to be the one who regrets it. You will.”

Robin took one last look at him and let out a breath like she’d just set something heavy down.

“I raised you better than this. So act like it.”

With that, she turned and walked back toward the dining room, calm as ever—leaving Joe alone in the kitchen, heart pounding, shame burning like fire in his chest.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭.·:¨༺༻¨:·.⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

Four days.

That’s how long it had been since Angel left.

Each one stretched endlessly, heavy and hollow, the kind of days that don’t tick forward—they drag. The kind of days that make a man sit in silence and realize just how loud a quiet house can be.

Joe didn’t go back to the facility. Not after the fight. Not after the dinner at his parents’ place where his mother, with every ounce of love and fire she had, peeled back the armor he’d been hiding behind and forced him to look at himself. Really look.

He told Coach he needed a few days. Told the team he had something personal to handle. That was true, at least in part.

But what he really needed was her.

And she wasn’t answering.

Not the simple Hey. Not the full paragraph that started with I’m sorry and ended with I don’t expect a response, but I hope you know I love you. Not even the one that just said: I miss you.

Joe had always known Angel was special. Since the beginning. Since LSU. But these four days stripped away every distraction, every assumed “tomorrow,” every excuse.

He wasn’t losing some girl he casually dated. He was losing the woman who had rooted for him when he was a backup quarterback, who had defended him when no one thought he had an NFL arm, who had stood in the shadows of stadium lights so he could shine—without once dimming her own brilliance. The woman who made him, him.

And he had let her down. In front of the world. In front of herself.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭.·:¨༺༻¨:·.⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

That fourth night, just after 9 p.m., Joe stood outside Monica’s condo building, hands shoved deep into the pocket of his hoodie. The spring air wrapped around him with a quiet chill—the kind that seeps past cotton, settling in your chest, reminding you that time keeps moving whether you’re ready or not.

He shifted his weight on the concrete stoop. His breath fogged faintly in the porch light as he looked up at the door. From the outside, everything looked normal. Cozy, even. But inside those walls was the woman he’d spent the last four days aching for—and she hadn’t given him a single word.

He deserved it. That silence. And still, it hollowed him out more than any hit he’d taken on the field.

Joe exhaled once, a breath that rattled in his chest, and knocked.

The door creaked open a crack.

Monica appeared, bonnet wrapped tight, arms crossed, eyes sharp as nails beneath arched brows. Her sweatshirt read Don’t Try Me, and she wore it like a mantra.

She didn’t blink. “If you’re here to start drama,” she said flatly, “turn around now.”

Joe didn’t flinch. He nodded once. “I’m not,” he said, quiet and low. “I just… I need to talk to her.”

A long pause stretched between them. The kind of silence that measures character.

Monica narrowed her eyes, then sighed. She didn’t soften, but she stepped back just enough to let him pass.

“She’s in the back,” she said, tone clipped and cautious. “And if she tells me she wants you gone, I will personally help her pack your ego into a suitcase.”

Joe managed a small, broken smile. “Fair enough,” he murmured. “I understand.”

The condo was warm—light jazz playing low from a Bluetooth speaker somewhere in the living room, candles flickering from a side table. It smelled faintly of eucalyptus, cocoa butter, and the vanilla lotion Angel always wore at night. The familiarity of it almost made him dizzy. He didn’t deserve the comfort—but he took it in anyway, like a man gasping for air at the surface.

He moved down the hallway slowly, like each step mattered.

Because it did.

Every one of them was an apology. A plea.

He reached the end of the hallway just as she stepped out.

Angel stood barefoot in Monica’s oversized T-shirt, joggers hanging low on her hips, her curls pulled back into a loose pineapple bun. There were faint smudges beneath her eyes, the kind that didn’t come from makeup—but from not sleeping. From carrying too much.

She looked exhausted. And somehow, impossibly, still stunning.

Joe’s heart twisted hard in his chest. She was right there—so close—but he could feel the distance between them like an entire ocean.

He cleared his throat, voice low.

“I messed up,” he said.

Angel didn’t move. She didn’t roll her eyes. Didn’t cross the room. But she didn’t walk away either.

That was something.

“I told myself I could balance it all,” Joe said, eyes searching hers. “That football and us could live in two separate lanes. But that’s not how love works. You’re not something I fit into the margins of my schedule, Angel. You’re the center. You’re home. And I haven’t been treating you like that.”

Still nothing. But her arms fell from their crossed stance. Her fingers laced together in front of her like she was holding herself still.

Joe stepped closer, slow and careful.

“I keep saying I love you,” he said. “But love isn’t missing your biggest night because I was too wrapped up in game film. Love is being there. It’s showing up. And I didn’t. I didn’t show up for you—and that’s the part I can’t stop thinking about.”

Finally, Angel’s voice cut through the quiet—soft, steady, and sharp.

“Do you know how hard I’ve worked to be taken seriously in this field?”

The words were simple. But they carried years inside them. Years of being questioned. Overlooked. Undermined.

“I do,” Joe said, voice hoarse.

Angel’s jaw tightened. “No. You think you do. But you don’t. I’ve stood on the sidelines in the snow, gotten talked over in press conferences, been told to smile more and speak less. I’ve had people call me lucky for being on air—as if I didn’t earn every second with sweat and receipts. That night… it wasn’t just about the award, Joe. It was about being seen. And I needed you there. Not as my boyfriend. Not as the NFL quarterback. As my person. The one who claps loudest, even when no one else is watching.”

Joe closed his eyes briefly, the weight of her words sinking into his bones.

“You’re right,” he said. “I failed you. I see that now.”

Angel looked down, blinking fast. Her arms hung loose at her sides now, like even holding them up took too much effort. When she spoke again, her voice trembled—not with anger, but with fatigue.

“You let me stand alone in a room full of people who didn’t expect me to be there in the first place. And you were supposed to be the one face I could find. The one person I never had to doubt.”

“I know,” Joe said, taking a tentative step forward. “I can’t fix the moment. But I can do better. From this moment on.”

He looked at her, bare and open, no defenses left.

“I just want to be there for you. Every time. No more excuses. No more ‘next time.’ You deserve more than promises. You deserve action.”

The silence between them stretched long—thick with history and hurt. And love.

Angel’s gaze lifted. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the kind you don’t cry because they carry too much. She looked at him for a long beat, like she was deciding whether to believe again. Whether to let him back into the soft, vulnerable places.

Then, quietly, she said:

“I don’t need perfect.”

She took a step forward.

“I just need present.”

Joe nodded, voice caught in his throat. “I can be that,” he whispered. “From now on… I will be.”

No dramatic music played. No world paused. It was just her—moving closer. Slowly. Until she was in his arms again, wrapping herself around him like she belonged there.

And she did.

Angel pressed her cheek into his chest and let out a breath that seemed to collapse four days of holding everything in.

Joe buried his face in her curls and held her like she was gravity itself.

No, it wasn’t forgiveness—not fully. And it wasn’t forgetting.

But it was hope.

It was us.

It was the start of something new, built from the rubble of everything they’d nearly lost.

In the hallway of a quiet apartment, beneath the hum of candles and the weight of a love still learning how to grow, Joe and Angel didn’t fix everything.

But they chose each other.

And sometimes, that’s enough to begin again.

Joe didn’t move right away. He just held her, arms wrapped tight like he needed the physical confirmation that she was real, that she was here, that she hadn’t slipped through his fingers completely.

After a long moment, she pulled back slightly—just enough to look up at him.

Her eyes were still glassy, lashes clumped from tears that hadn’t fallen. But her shoulders weren’t so tense now. The storm in her chest was settling.

Joe reached into the front pocket of his hoodie and slowly pulled something out—small, delicate, shining faintly under the hallway light.

The engagement ring.

He hadn’t let it out of his sight since the night she left. It had slept on his nightstand, sat on his kitchen counter while he ate cereal he couldn’t taste, pressed against the palm of his hand when he paced the house in the middle of the night.

“Can I…?” he asked, his voice quieter than it had been all night.

Angel looked down at the ring, then back up at him. Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching.

She didn’t answer with words.

She held out her left hand.

Joe took it gently, like he was handling something sacred, and slid the ring back onto her finger—slow, deliberate, like a promise being made for the second time.

It glinted under the warm overhead light. And this time, it meant something more.

Not just love—but earned love.

He looked back up at her, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So,” he said. “Do I get a kiss, or...?”

Angel lifted one brow, her mouth twitching into the smallest smirk. Her voice was soft, but teasing.

“Don’t push your luck, Burrow.”

Joe huffed a laugh, the first real one in days, as she shook her head—but didn’t pull her hand away.

He didn’t lean in. He didn’t need to. That one look, that one line—it was hers. It had always been hers. And he’d take it gladly.

In that quiet hallway, no kiss was exchanged.

But the ring was back where it belonged. Her hand was still in his. And his heart—finally—was back in the right place.

They had a long way to go. But they’d go together.

And that made all the difference.

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weirdmageddon · 1 year ago

Text

the shift in lore literacy in homestuck’s fandom

i was thinking about how the people who got into homestuck after it ended—whose interactions with the comic are in a static, archived state, not an ongoing thing—missed out on information that was more common knowledge in the fandom at that time. i don’t know if this is true since i’m not on tiktok, but i wouldn’t be surprised if it was. the fandom certainly isn’t the same as it was before.

ive found that many people reading homestuck now simply do not understand things in homestuck that were common knowledge back in the day, with calls for “homestuck literacy classes to become mandatory” in response to baffling takes because so many people just now seem to have glazed over the comic without absorbing important plot points, and i think i know why this may be. i ended up writing a post reflecting on my time with the comic, my perspective and how ive seen this change. i still think and write about homestuck because it still fascinates me. earlier i quote retweeted that call in my thread talking about the temporal relativity of dave and rose’s god tier ascension in the green sun, saying “my homestuck literacy is 100% so guess im doing my part as a teacher by pointing out whatever i think is really cool about it”. this post im writing now started out as a reply to this tweet i got in response.

i joined the fandom in 2013. i was 11. i had been aware of it since at least late 2011, early 2012 when my friend ryan in fifth grade told me to read it but i couldn’t get past the first few pages. i remember writing a journal on deviantart around this time (late 2011-early 2012) that was mocking people who typed like gamzee, which ironically was very karkat of me. and i remember someone on flipnote hatena i was following was making flipnotes with the alpha kids.

i dont know what caused me to flip the switch into reading it but 2013. i got into it somewhere between april (i think closer to april—i remember it being quite a span of time between the last update before HOMOSUCK dropped.) this was the most recent page the comic, meaning there was no > [S] ACT 6 ACT 6 at the bottom.

i got into it during a pause in updates, which looking into it, was the year 4 megapause. i wasn’t sure of the month until seeing the news post detailing the reason for the hiatus and the status report of the comic’s development at that time. pretty cool i could narrow it down by referencing the dates of those updates and the news post to correspond with the pause!

according to readmspa, the year 4 megapause was a 59 day hiatus from Apr 14, 2013 ==> (EOA6A5) running to 12 Jun 2013, [S] ACT 6 ACT 6. then for a few months there were the first updates that i was apart of the fandom for.

and what an exciting time during the story get into the webcomic! when the updates resumed in june, part 4 of homestuck had begun. here was a glimpse of the updates in that span of time before the next hiatus began in october.

that hiatus was none other than the gigapause, the longest hiatus in the comic, which started october 2013 and lasted for a YEAR, and i already posted about what happened on the date of return.

but here were the main events happening in the story at the time i first actually got interested in it. i wasn’t aware of the full context of them then like i am now, but i was looking at the most recent updates anyway with interest:

the alpha kids just emerged as god tiers from their slabs in derse and prospit, blown up by the condesce and caliborn / lil cal-possessed b2 jack noir.

the journey to the new session started 24 hours after jack called an early reckoning in descend—for context that was about when dave entered around midnight central time and before jade even entered. it’s pretty easy to forget that side 1 of homestuck basically happens within the span of a single day—and at this point in the story, the 3 year journey (which was also 3 real life years) had just ended. john and jade emerged from the other side of the yellow yard through the fenestrated plane on LOMAX. john’s real body was asleep upon arrival in the new session, while his dreaming projection out in the dream bubbles came across vriska’s ghost ship to learn lord english lore with vriska and aranea, and go on the treasure hunt where they found the ultimate weapon at the X mark out in in the furthest ring. in the dream john stuck his hand in the juju, started warping all over canon which removed his real body from the ship on LOMAX. he zapped around for a while but eventually zapped back to LOMAX, now awake, completely out of the loop of what everyone else is up to, and bored as fuck. what was everyone else getting up to while john was asleep?

jade was now once again within the domain of the green sun. im pretty sure her space god doggy essence comes with the power to sense what was anywhere within the domain of the session since her face looks like she arrived at that spot with intent (and she literally has jack noir’s exact powers from bec’s prototyping. also this panel). she immediately dispatched b2 jack to the edge of the incinisphere, defending the newly god-tiered jane and jake. i think even if they weren’t in any danger, she would have warped to them instantly anyway because she COULD now, and i can imagine she wouldve been sooooo eager to meet everyone. even davesprite comments about her rapid departure.

the pre-scratch refugees arrived during the only time serious shit ever went down in the nobles’ months-long inert void session. the condesce used her freak psychic bronze-cerulean powers to commune with jade’s bestial side and mind controlled her, which is super dangerous as someone with the powers of a first guardian. she then used jade’s powers to corrupt jane with the tiaratop. no funtime meetup allowed!

the trolls’ meteor with rose, dave, and the remaining trolls was pulling up into the new session with no way to slow it down. grimbark jade warped there once it was in the incinisphere and took active control. she warped everyone off the trolls’ meteor and sent them to LOMAX.

as john was losing his mind on LOMAX waiting for everyone, the meteor crew warped in. after 3 years he finally reunited with rose and dave, and at least saw the trolls in person. close curtains, end of A6A5. this was the newest [S] flash page at the time, one of my first impressions of this comic, and still one of my favorite flashes. knowing the context of the flash in the story only enhances the retrospective joy i have at getting into the comic at the time i did because it’s such an anticipated moment in the story for everyone, while for someone with no context of the story it was still enjoyable.

so that’s what was going on plotwise when i joined the fandom.

from this time, through those few months of updates and through the gigapause, i was familarizing myself with the characters in the story and overseeing the state of fanbase, getting myself acquainted with the story and wrapping my head around everything.

at that time i found that a new-ish group called colab HQ who were producing a let’s read homestuck series on youtube. hearing the voices and the pacing of it like that really, really eased me into it (maybe it was my adhd that gave me trouble actually starting it?). i caught up to a certain point using lets read homestuck and from that point was able to continue with the comic on my own, and by the time the gigapause came to a close i was fully caught up. i remember the rebranding of colab hq into voxus about a year and a half after i discovered them.

but.. back to the main point of my post. even these posts from hussie’s tumblr exist in archived states. how many new fans know about hussie’s old tumblr? i don’t know, unless theyre a new fan that must scour the internet for more deep more dives on homestuck and its fandom as a whole. but since hussie deleted his tumblr (it exists archived now on homestuck.net which, alongside from the unofficial homestuck collection, has nearly singlehandedly kept the most important relics of the fandom and lore archived), that page is not an active part of the fandom now, because it’s gone. it’s a pile of bones. it’s not living and breathing. it’s in an archived state. the whole thing is already there. homestuck and its fandom history is something you now binge instead of slowly consume and meld with as it comes out. it’s now this rapid information intake that you might forget about if you read it now instead of engaged alongside it. you’re not surrounded by people actively talking and theorizing about developments anymore. the ability to have those sorts of conversations during the ongoing development of the story reinforced concepts, ideas, and lore over and over as we tried to make sense of it.

being in a fandom when the author is still delivering the story is like nothing else. it allows you grow alongside the characters and engage meaningfully with the media and people in the fandom space around you. it feels like you’re participating IN the media itself, especially if you’re interfacing with the creator. it’s in always having something to theorize or talk about and speculate. and people become very aware of these sorts of forgotten story facts because they were applying the logic of the newest official post from hussie into making their sburb ocs or something and share resources and discussion posts about “what just happened in this update?? recap????” it was this cultural osmosis thing. i think this is why homestuck literacy is now at an all time low, at least from what i can see on twitter.

reading homestuck then vs now is like the difference between serialized shows with spaces between episodes to discuss stuff and time to reflect and learn and become attached to the story, narrative, worldbuilding and its characters, vs the netflix model where it’s all dropped all at once and people forget about it after binging.

at this point in time im getting the sense that “homestuck elders” now are no longer just people who were there since 2009-2010, but now also people who were there while it was still updating, probably stretching into 2014-2015. there are many sources of lore that were common knowledge in the fandom at the time that, since becoming susceptible to the deletion of content and link rot, and with the thanosing of mspaforums, are no longer accessible at the source. and a lot of people moved on after it ended, especially following the epilogues, the kate drama, and the whatpumpkin-sarah z drama, leaving a void of information behind if not for archivists and people such as me who continue to keep old facts relevant in discussions. my friend has called me a fandom scholar before and seeing this post i think i get what they mean.

EDIT: there is a series of video essays ive watched multiple times (because theyre that good) and they are exactly what modern fans need to see more of. they really help contextualize the comic and the themes present in it help you appreciate the basic fabric of homestuck a hell of a lot more. i highly recommend them and encourage any fan of homestuck to watch them, or someone considering getting into homestuck to watch the first one.

i think this is arguably as close to the “mandatory literacy class for homestuck” that person was talking about as you can get, especially the first video.

additionally, there is also the website https://rafe.name/homestuck which is essentially a sparknotes for homestuck and can help you follow developments in the comic itself.

#homestuck #homestuck meta #homestuck fandom #mine

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persevereforahappyending · 4 months ago

Text

A Legacies Regret |10|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: Threats of Murder

Word Count: 1.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

Tara’s eyes darted around the park; she had her hands shoved in her pockets, so she’d stop fiddling with her jacket. She was the one who told you to go with Gale, she assured you that everything was going to be fine, she was sure of that, at least at the time she was. She was right next to Sam, Kirby was in a van with Chad, Mindy, and Ethan close by, and Bailey was sitting on a bench not too far away, they were all connected so they could hear the call from Ghostface when it came in. But you weren’t here, Tara came so close to losing you in the apartment and now you weren’t here, you were halfway across town.

“They’ll be okay,” Sam said. Tara shook her head, getting out of her mind as she gave her sister a questioning look. “They’ll be fine.” Tara nodded; she looked down at the pathway as they continued their walk. “They’re with Gale, they’re perfectly safe.”

Tara couldn’t help but scoff at that. She didn’t think Gale would let anything happen to you, despite everything, Gale did care about you. Still, even without Ghostface lurking around every corner Tara didn’t like the idea of you being alone with Gale. Gale has already hurt you so much, no amount of groveling will ever change that, Tara just didn’t want you to get hurt again.

“Gale won’t let anything happen to them,” Sam assured. “She’s survived, what, nine of these assholes? Being by Gales side is honestly probably the safest place to be.”

Tara let out a huff at that. Gale had survived many attacks, had been stabbed plenty of times herself, she was also an investigative reporter. Basically, besides Sidney Prescott, there was no one better prepared to deal with Ghostface. Hell, the only gift Gale every gave you ended up being a gun, Tara didn’t even want to know what Gale kept for herself back at her place.

“I just…” Tara sighed. “I don’t like this. We’re out in the open,” Tara looked around the park. It was broad daylight, there were people all around them. Not that any of that ever-stopped Ghostface before, this new Ghostface chased them down and didn’t even hesitate to shoot up a bodega filled with people.

“I just need the call to last fifteen seconds,” Kirby said through the earpiece. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”

“We’re ready,” Sam said.

Tara could feel Sam’s concerned gaze on her. “It’s a good plan,” Sam assured. “We’ll be fine.” Sam rested a hand on Tara’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. Tara smiled up at her sister, despite their issues and despite what Sam might believe she was actually pretty good at comforting her.

“It feels like we’re missing something.” Tara looked back, there were people jogging, couples going for a walk, people playing catch, families having a picnic. Everything was completely normal; it was insane to think all these people were going about their normal lives while they were stuck trying to trap a psychotic killer who wanted them dead for some messed up reason.

Tara pulled out her phone, she opened her recent messages with you for comfort. You sent a simple good luck text instantly followed by an I love you just as Tara and Sam had gotten out of the van to start their walk around the park. Tara had instantly sent an I love you back.

She had been away from you plenty of times, she went to school, you went to work, she even went to parties without you, but she hadn’t been away from you since the attacks started. Last year every time the two of you were separated one of you, mostly you, got hurt, she wouldn’t be able to handle something happening to you while she was out trying to catch Ghostface.

She tried to just focus on the walk, all they had to do was walk around the park and keep Ghostface talking, which in theory shouldn’t be too hard, Ghostface really loved to talk. As if on cue Sam’s phone rang, Tara felt her entire body tense at the sound. They had left it on ring so they could be ready for when Ghostface called. As soon as Sam pulled the phone out of her pocket Tara looked over her shoulder to see the call said it was coming from Richie.

“You’re going to die you know,” Sam said as she answered the phone.

Tara kept her eyes open, her head constantly moving back and forth, trying to spot anything unusual. When looking for something out of the ordinary though everything seemed out of the ordinary. There were dozens of people walking around on their phones, any one of them could be Ghostface, or more likely none of them were and Ghostface was off somewhere they couldn’t even see.

“No, you’re going to die Samantha,” Ghostface’s voice came through the phone. Tara tried to ignore the chill that ran down her spine, as hard as she tried to ignore it, she would never be able to get that damn voice out of her head. “Choking on your own blood while I hack up your sister.”

Tara slowed her pace and looked at Sam, it wasn’t the first time a Ghostface threatened either of them, but it never made it easy to hear. “Unless we find you first,” Sam said.

“For a mastermind you’re not very bright,” Ghostface sighed, almost like he was disappointed in them. “Waiting for me to call, desperately hoping I’m nearby so the police can grab me.” Tara’s looked all around, there was no way for Ghostface to know their exact plan unless he was right there, watching them. “But I’m not nearby, I’m a step ahead. I’ll be seeing you, Samantha.”

Sam slowly came to a stop, her brow furrowed as she looked around. Tara mimicked the look, there was some threatening but that wasn’t the typical Ghostface call, they were missing something.

“Oh, Tara,” Ghostface added before hanging up. Tara’s eyes shot to Sam’s, somehow Ghostface knew that not only was Tara right there but that she could also hear him. “I do hope you said your goodbyes.” Tara furrowed her brow as she looked down at the phone. “Because I sure do intend on making them suffer.” The call ended with Ghostface’s sinister chuckle.

“Wh-what does that mean?” Tara asked, searching her sister for answers.

“Did you get it?” Sam asked, completely ignoring Tara’s question.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Yep, coming through right now,” Kirby answered Sam, everyone still seeming to ignore Tara’s worry. “He’s on the upper west side.” Tara could hear the confusion in her voice, that was nowhere near where they currently were. “He’s in an apartment.”

Tara’s eyes widened. “On West 96th?” Tara asked.

“How did you know that?”

Tara didn’t bother answering Kirby’s question, she was already pulling out her phone. She tapped your name and brought the phone to her ear, speed walking her way out of the park. She was aware of Sam following behind her, but she wasn’t about to wait up. “Pick up, pick up,” she mumbled to herself. “Pick up the fucking phone,” she gritted her teeth.

“Hey,” you answered, the sound of your voice instantly making Tara relax but she didn’t slow down. “What happened?”

“Ghostface is there!”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about? What…” Your words trailed off, Tara looked around frantically, she needed to find a way to get to you.

“Y/N?” she asked. “Y/N?” she looked down to see the call had been disconnected. “Fuck!” she quickly tapped your name again; she was going to keep calling until she could see you safe and sound for herself. The call just rang, until she eventually got your voicemail. “Fuck!”

She gripped her hair as her eyes scanned the street, she didn’t even know what she was searching for until her eyes landed on Bailey’s car. She didn’t hesitate to run towards the car, flinging open the driver’s side door. Tara didn’t even have time to enjoy the fact that not only was the car unlocked but the keys were also tucked up in the sun visor. Tara tapped your name again, putting it on speaker but once again it just continued to ring.

“Sam!” Tara called out, interrupting whatever she was saying to Bailey. “Get in!” Sam’s eyes widened but she didn’t hesitate to run over and hop in the car.

Tara rolled up the windows and ignored Bailey’s orders to get out of the car. She clicked the button, locking the doors before he could get to them. She didn’t care if Bailey was a cop, she didn’t care if this was a cop car she was stealing, nothing was going to stop her from getting to you.

“Keep trying,” she said, handing Sam her phone.

Sam did as asked and redialed your number once again. The ringing filled the inside of the car as Tara flipped on the sirens and sped out into traffic. She weaved in and out of the cars as they moved out of her way, pressing her foot harder on the gas as the ringing ended, only for Sam to try calling you again.

Taglist: @mamas-evil-hag @thatshyboy1998 @btay3115 @idontliketoread2137 @nwestra

@honorarysimp @canyonyodeler @chxrryxcx @aceofspades190 @worstendingever

@riyaexee

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #a legacies regret

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mintypumpkingcarvings · 1 month ago

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IF YOU GENUINELY DONT LIKE RIN NOHARA YOU. ARE. WRONG.

Rin Nohara’s presence in Naruto is small and in ever second she has on screen she is a bright light of hope and love.

The only reason people don’t like her? She happened to have a crush on Kakashi.

Here are true facts in life:

1. Love is diverse: Romantic love exist as well as other types of love

2. Love is not a reward system, no one person is obligated to feel the same way

First of all, her main “offense” is confessing to Kakashi after hearing about Obito’s feelings. Referencing #2 she isn’t required to return Obitos feelings. BUT, it’s not like she did this to “rub it in” or “choose to ignore his feelings” even though they where out of the cave they where still surrounded by enemy shinobi. She just witnessed her BEST FRIEND GET CRUSHED IN HALF. Not only that, SHE TRANSPLANTED HIS EYE AS HE WAS DYING. This is her last way of gaining control, let all secrets out, not to disrespect Obito, but to let the team understand each other before death.

Not only that, she had a crush on Kakashi, it’s debatable to call her feelings romantic love. Through watching her reactions in the chunin-exams it’s clear that much of her feelings for him are based off of admiration, after all Kakashi is an insane prodigy. She isn’t afraid to step in when he and Obito are out of line.

Addressing fact #1, RIN TRUELY LOVED OBITO. She was there for him each step of the way. She cared and supported him through everything. Though his failures, achievements and everything in between. Even after her death, even after Obito fell to darkness she kept her eye on him. She’s Obito’s #1 supporter, their for him in life and death. That’s, true love.

Now this is the #1 reason people don’t like Rin Nohara but I do understand people who don’t like her because she feels to much like a plot device. However, I FEEL like it worked specifically in this situation as she represent light and love to Obito not just as a person but as a presence, so when she was gone, the entire world lost that in Obitos eyes. This allowed him to view the darkness in the world and find that it needs to be changed.

I would also like to mention how BRAVE she is. She watched her best friend, her DAY 1 get crushed in half, and then proceeded to do an eye transplant on his request. Keep in mind she litterally FREEBALLED THAT. She had not training in EYE TRANSPLANTS yet she did it perfectly. And then when she noticed Isobu was inside of her without hesitation she knew she had to die. SHES LIKE 12/14 no balls and sent it. THATS INSANE.

Overall, WOMEN IN NARUTO GET WAY TO MUCH HATE

I love you my Queen Rin Nohara

To disrespect Rin Nohara is to disrespect Obito

#rin nohara #kakashi x obito #obito x kakashi #obikaka #kkob #kakaobi #obkk #obirin #obkkrn #obikakarin #naruto #ilovemyqueenRinNohara #i will die on this hill #team minato

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doodledrawsthings · 6 months ago

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you. Oh my god, you. (Positive)

listen. Before I had internet access, all I had was 1 hour of allotted browser time, bing image search, and a single dantdm play through of a hat in time that never got finished. I googled fanart and got pretty much nothing, I googled fancomics and got pretty much nothing, but you know what I did end up finding?

your art.

from ages 11-14, my goal in life, in art, was your art. I can’t tell you how much I loved finding random screenshots of your posts, because I was always just so impressed by how clean and consistent your sketches are, how the characters always stay on model, the shape language, how you could somehow sketch a character in like 20 lines when it took me 50 to draw sans in my little spiral notebook— like! Holy shit! For years I have looked up to your art! There’s still a photos folder on my dads old huge-ass 12 inch work iPad labeled “holy crap” and filled with your art. Because it inspired me so much. It’s become an undeniable part of my artstyle, now — I still have fanart I drew way back in the day of Hattie and the rest, I didn’t even know anyone’s names because I couldn’t play the game, but you’re the reason I eventually did play the game. Your coffee shop au and different versions of the prince— one of those ieterations inspired the main character of my novel! Well, novel that I tried to write, I was 13 so it was eh, but I tried!!

I’m submitting this on-anon because I don’t want to out my age on the wide internet (I like my privacy) but. Your art has really meant a lot to me. It’s the reason I played hollow knight, and it’s the reason I kept trying to develop an art style I was happy with. You’re the reason I started scribbling comics in my notebooks. Being 13-14 was pretty much the worst two years of my life, but I had Bing image search and the occasional glimpse of your signature, and I’d be so happy every time I found a new (if crusty) three-times screenshotted jpg. You literally introduced me to the concept of polyamory and nonbinary-ness with the coffee shop au. I had no other access to that in my household, and. Yeah. It meant a lot to me.

Anyway. I’m so glad I’ve finally tracked you down (in the most non-ominous way possible) and I’m so glad you’re still active— Please never stop making art. Your art is incredible, and amazing, and also you never know who’s out there on Bing image search. Thank you for creating for as long as you have. You’re pretty much the reason I’m shooting for an art degree (Wish me luck!) so just…Thank you.

(Also I had no idea you were a professional storyboarder, which is insane because that’s what I want to be when I’m through college. Hey, maybe I’ll end up storyboarding a remake of something you’ve storyboarded! hehehe)

Hi anon!

So right off the bat, I gotta tell you that this message made me start bawling when I woke up and saw it. Like I had a full-on cry session while reading your message and lying in bed for almost an hour. I am crying as I am typing this response, on my phone, still in bed. It’s 11am and i woke up at 9. So I hope it turns out coherent.

The last two years have been. weird. I say that a lot because I wanna say “rough” but that still doesn’t feel quite right. I’m almost hyper-aware that there are so many people that have it worse than me rn, so it feels hard to even acknowledge when I’m going through anything, myself, sometimes- REGARDLESS, it’s been kind of an all-time low for my mental health. There was a point within in the last year where I just HATED drawing. I struggled to bring myself to work, I struggled to bring myself to even draw for fun. It felt like I was posting just to post, trying to keep people aware of my existence and it almost felt physically painful to force myself to sit down and do it, sometimes.

I’m getting better now, I think, but. Yknow.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the “oh I can make money off this,” “oh I can get attention off this,” “oh I can prove myself a functional person in society with this,” of it all. I forget why I actually do this, sometimes, or if I even enjoy it. And then I get messages like yours, about the kid with limited internet access looking for A Hat in Time fan art on Bing image search, and I get taken back to when I was a kid scrolling Google images and deviantart for the same thing.

I don’t mean to like. Foster some kind of parasocial thing with you or any one of my followers. There’s a reason I’m saying all this, I hope it ties up in the end.

We don’t know each other. I’m not some mysterious legendary artist, or whatever. I’m a person who gets burnt out, and jealous, and insecure. I need inspiration to function, just like you, and when I don’t have it, I get art block. But I also really like to draw fictional characters kissing and hanging out. I like coming up with comics and stories and playing out dramatic and funny scenarios in my head like I’m mashing Barbies together. And when other people tell me they enjoy the stuff I put out when I do this, it makes me really, really, really happy.

I think I needed to read your message, probably. With the state of… Everything… Right now, especially recently, I feel like a lot of artists are also struggling with a sense of purpose, pride, and reason as the world makes it harder and harder to even BE an artist, these days. And when I read this message it was like Anton Ego at the end of Ratatouille, I got taken back to when I was a kid looking at my favorite artists and studying their style and striving to be better and better at it over years of my life. Not just because I wanted a job for it or cuz I wanted to be a famous Disney animator or whatever, but because it was fun and I just liked doing it.

Thank you, SO much. I say this in the most genuine and earnest way I possibly can possibly express. I wish you luck on your own path in art and art school. And if you decide that animation industry is your thing, then I wish you the best in that endeavor, as well. I think I will keep making art for a long time.

Peace and love on the planet earth ✌️✌️✌️

#alright I gotta get up and start my day I’m still in bed it’s almost noon lmao #you really never know who’s out there on Bing image search #rainy days tag #starting a new tag I wanna keep this

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blegh-110 · 1 year ago

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i. "we were both young when i first saw you" | Sam Monroe

Pairing: older brother's best friend!Sam x fem!reader

Summary: You never liked your older brother's friends, they were always mean to you; kicking your seat on the bus, pulling your hair, and tricking you. You made it your mission to stay away from them, expect for one who is the first to treat you nicely.

Warnings: None! Just a cute little teenage romance <3

Word count: 851

Next part

Older brother's best friend!Sam who you’ve known since you were 12 and he was 14. You remember your brother first coming home from his first day of high school talking about a really cool guy in his english and history class, someone named Sam Monroe. Of course you didn’t really care for your older brother's friends, in fact, you had a bit of a personal vendetta against all of them for the pranks and tricks they pulled on you when you were younger. Even now you try to avoid them and their attempts to give you a wet willy and a flick on the forehead. You were also at the age where boys were simply scary, especially older ones who were friends with your older brother.

So when the time came that your brother invited Sam over to hang out after school, you hid in your room for as long as possible and tried to finish your school work. But it was difficult to focus when you could just feel the presence of another boy in your home. And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you couldn’t go out into the kitchen for a snack in fear that you would run into one of your brother’s friends. They were just so demeaning, they never missed out on the chance to remind you that you’re younger and dumber than them.

You checked the time, 11:37. Surely everyone in the house is asleep, you thought. Quietly, you stepped out of your room into the kitchen, wanting your trip for your sweet tart ropes and water to be fast. But frustration and anger very quickly took over when you couldn’t find the candy you bought with your own money.

“What’re you looking for?” A voice you didn’t recognize said behind you. In the short second before you turned around, you felt your blood run cold and mind go blank. And it became worse when you looked at him, he was the most beautiful boy you had ever seen. He was leaning against the doorway with an intense stare, and what caught your eye was the blue streak in his hair. He looked so cool. With all the courage you can muster up, you speak.

“My candy, I bought sweet tart ropes earlier and can’t… find them.” Your words are quiet, you don’t want to wake anyone up but the boy in front of you is the main reason. At your reply he stands to his full height with a frown.

“Your brother said I could have ‘em, shit, I’m sorry.” And what was strange was that he really looked like it.

“It’s okay,” It really wasn’t, you were still mad. But you just wanted the whole interaction to be over, he was too cute in your eyes to continue any sort of conversation. You wouldn’t be able to speak properly if this went on. So you went back to your room right after, setting aside your homework for tomorrow because you couldn’t get him out of your mind. Although it was only a minute with him, he had shown more kindness than any of your brother's friends, or any boy in fact. And you held on to that very small moment.

You rarely saw him for your entire seventh grade school year, of course you would. He wasn’t your friend, only someone you had a little bit of a crush on. But the times you did have together, despite it being small, were special to you.

Like when he listened to you complain about your insufferable science teacher, “That guy’s a fucking asshole.” His vulgarity is a part of him that always makes you laugh.

“Shh, Sam!” You’re smiling as you bring your pointer finger to your lips, telling him to quiet down, “my parents are in the other room.” At that his eyes widened and head turned to where you’re pointing.

“Okay, I’ll stop. But seriously, I was also in his class and he was the worst, he always picked on me”

As much as you cared for Sam, he was a troublemaker, and you asked if he did anything to warrant that treatment.

“Well, yeah but what does that have anything to do with it?” And before you can answer he poked your side, making you yelp, and ran off.

Or when you first saw him with the piercing right below his bottom lip, “you like it?” You only nodded your head before bolting to your room and shoving your face into the pillow.

And when their freshman class was having a dance, he knocked on your door that night asking if you had any black eye shadow to put on him. The application was messy, since he decided he wanted it literally at the last minute and your brother was yelling for him from the living room to hurry. When you were done and got a good look at his face you blushed. In combination with his piercing, dyed hair, makeup, and suit, you got butterflies and wanted to be the one who he took to the dance.

This one was written for my younger self who wanted an emo boyfriend. I think I might do another part simply for myself. Hopefully this reaches the hayden christensen part of tumblr. Please leave a comment, I love reading them <333 banner is by @dollywons

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #haden christensen x fem!reader #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen fanfiction #life as a house #sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe fluff #sam monroe x you #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe x y/n #hayden christensen x y/n

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godmadeaterribleerror · 1 month ago

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Chapter 15 - Wait For It

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Bucky about to take the gold in his favorite sport (glaring).

Chapter title from Amsterdam by Imagine Dragons

Word Count: 7.8k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Bucky worries, and you have a meeting. Usual warnings.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 14 - Chapter 16

Read on A03!

There were a lot of things about this situation that Bucky hated.

To start, traffic had been shit. He hadn’t gotten the chance to eat, because he usually ate with Her. The day was too damn sunny, but Bucky would sound like an asshole if he said that out loud. Finally, his phone was almost dead, and Sam’s waiting room didn’t have one fucking outlet.

If She called him, he needed to be able to respond. He shouldn’t even be taking a day off anyway. Bucky could think of a hundred damn reasons he should be with Her, not halfway across the city. But every time he’d thrown one at Her, she’d shot it down with sharp accuracy and a flat tone.

“You could have another Hydra run in-“

“I’m not going to leave my apartment.” She’d shrugged, not looking away from Her computer. “And Happy upgraded my security. I’ll be fine.”

Bucky had scoffed, leaning further over the desk. “Thing is, you’re sayin’ you’re not going to leave your apartment, but the last time you did that, you left your apartment-“

“I won’t this time.”

“I don’t believe you-“

“James.” She’d finally turned to face him, and there had been a heavy exhaustion on Her face that hadn’t made Bucky more eager to leave Her.

It had really been sinking into Her features, lately. A sort of gauntness that made Bucky’s jaw clench and his gut turn. The Moon was shrouded in Her eyes, Her hair had flyaway strands, and several of Her nails had chipped.

It was all that, combined with a million small things that told Bucky She wasn’t okay. Whenever She’d smile at a suit it was all overdone sweetness, but without the usual, slight hint of teeth. She seemed to be floating through the day rather than carving at it. Bucky had passed Her a coffee in the car that morning, and She’d just held it.

Completely still in the passenger’s seat. Answering Bucky with Her usual jokes, but all of them too soft. When they’d parked, and Bucky had let the song playing run all the way to the end, She’d just stared ahead with a blank expression.

Whatever this was looked like more than the sickness. That always made Her colorless, but not dead. And some part of Her always seemed a little more tired than Bucky liked—if it were up to him, She’d rest every single night, maybe next to him, with his arm around Her shoulders and Her voice smooth in his ear—but all Her movements seemed to be animated. When She walked it wasn’t the purposeful, well-designed strut She seemed to have mastered, but a mechanical movement that only Bucky seemed to see the difference in. Less hips, and the same rhythm a beat behind, with no ease.

Her voice was missing something, too. As She’d looked at Bucky with tight features and all that exhaustion, he’d really fucking heard it. There was nothing musical in the tone. It was just goddamn flat.

“I’m not going to leave my apartment.” She’d said, holding his gaze. “And if you don’t meet with Sam, we won’t know if he’s onto us.”

Bucky had sighed. “He’s not onto us, Butterfly-“

“We don’t know that.”

“Maybe, but I know Sam-“

“I know him too.” She’d raised Her brows in a silent challenge. “And we need to be sure he doesn’t know. We’re fucked if he does.”

“Yeah, I know that, but he might be okay with it-“

“No, he won’t be.”

“Fine, he’ll be pissed at me, but not you-“

“He’ll take you off my detail.” She’d snapped, and Bucky had stilled. “If Sam finds out you’ve been encouraging me to deal with this, he’ll move you to work on the case because you’ve got the info, and separate us.” She’d taken a long, slow breath, and the venom in Her voice had made Bucky sit a little too tall in his chair.

He’d muttered Her name, and She’d shaken her head.

“Please just go to the meeting, Buck. I-“ She’d run a hand through Her hair, Her voice fading into something far too soft. “I’d like to keep you with me.”

She’d sounded like She cared. And She’d wanted to keep him.

Bucky.

Of all damn people, Bucky got to be the one She wanted to keep with Her.

And the heat in his body—dimmed to a flicker, as his gut had been aching as he tried to figure out what the fuck was wrong with Her—had flared back up with a roar.

He wouldn’t just bend to Her orders. If anything, the annoying feelings had made him more determined to match Her pace for pace, shove for shove, bite for bite.

But She’d had a damn good point. Bucky couldn’t protect Her, or help Her, or make sure She didn’t eat herself from within if Sam moved him away from Her. He didn’t really want to be anywhere but Her anyway.

So Bucky had folded.

Mostly.

“You have to promise you’ll rest.” He’d muttered, and She’d sighed.

“Fine.”

Bucky had blinked, the furrow of his brow deep enough for him to feel. He’d expected Her to argue. To negotiate.

But She hadn’t.

And goddamnit, that was sitting and rotting in his stomach, giving him yet another reason to hate being here. Something was wrong with Her. It had been wrong with Her, since She’d gotten back from that party Miles had dragged her to. She’d apologized to him for letting Miles be rude—which was stupid, that hadn’t been Her fault by a long shot—and then started to shrink back into Herself.

There were moments where She’d seem okay. If Bucky made Her move. If he ordered food and let Her paint on his arm, or sat next to Her and asked her for help with a course on Stark’s stupid program. When he made Her think, or let Her make something that he studied after, to see exactly what She liked enough to create.

But if he let Her sit in Herself for too long, that was when She started to fall apart. So Bucky should be with Her. Making sure She didn’t hurt herself, or something—someone—else got Her.

Because he had eyes.

He’d seen the way She’d grown small and nervous the moment Miles had stepped into the apartment. The way She’d obeyed his every word, even when it was something Bucky was certain she wouldn’t actually agree with. Miles had spoken to Her like she was a dog, asked Her to dress up like She was a toy, and it had made Bucky’s fists curl and his attention sharp.

Because he recognized the stance She’d adopted. Eyes down, speaking only when spoken to, with as few words as She could manage.

The Soldat had been scratching at the back of his skull, at the sight of it.

That was how he had stood. For decades. The slow, careful movements of someone who knew that a foot out of line would result in losing a toe. The words of a person who had said the wrong ones in the past, and paid heavily for it.

And Bucky had a theory. A theory he didn’t know how to ask Her about, or how to test. One he was desperately hoping was wrong—he never saw bruises, but She was also good at hiding things, and Miles didn’t seem like enough of a dumbass to do something obvious—but couldn’t afford to count out. Not with Her.

It was, really, the only reason Bucky was here. He didn’t give a shit about lunch with Sam. He probably could have pushed a little harder, and stayed where he wanted to be. With Her, in Her apartment now that Miles was back out of town, making Her try the new spice he’d found at a market down-town and watching the Princess Bride movie.

Looking at Her, trying to work out if there was anything about Her that wasn’t made like art, and coming up empty-handed. When he’d been there yesterday, She’d given him more coins for laundry and a handful of rocks.

He hadn’t been able to fight his smile. “The hell am I supposed to do with these.”

“They’re for science, James.” She’d sighed. “Geology.”

“I don’t know a single thing about geology.”

“Then you can learn-“

“Or you,” he’d passed than back into Her hands. “Could paint them.”

She’d stared at him for a second, Her voice dropping to something soft. “Do you want me to paint them?”

Bucky had shrugged—although nothing sounded better in the world than Her, painting rocks just for him—and She’d nodded slowly.

“You have to do one too.”

“Alright. Deal.” He’d held out his hand, She’d shaken it with a worryingly determined expression, and Bucky wanted to be at Her apartment, painting rocks like a goddamn idiot.

Steve had liked to paint rocks. And Bucky had done it with him, when they were kids. And he’d gotten pretty damn good at it, enough to maybe impress Her, and Bucky shouldn’t care about impressing Her, but he did.

He wanted to keep being the person She kept around. Wanted to watch Her eyes get wide, and then have Her ask him a million questions, and maybe hand Her to rock and have Her keep that too.

He’d been feeling disturbingly like a goddamn kid lately, whenever he was around Her. Falling for the doe-eyed girl sitting across from him, eating Her lunch and talking too fast, wearing a pretty dress and letting Bucky stand between Her and the bullies.

She’d been less doe-eyed lately. It was just another part of whatever the hell was happening with Her.

So Bucky was here. He didn’t want to be. But it was that damn theory that was making the Soldat scratch up and down his skull. And Sam—who was fucking late, the asshead—might have an answer.

The clock was taunting him again. Ticking and ticking, like a bomb set to go off that Bucky didn’t have the time to clean up. Hydra could be making steps as he just sat there. She could be running around, and fall over a trap—or just Her own feet—and Bucky wouldn’t be able to catch Her. Miles could get back again, while Bucky wasn’t there-

She’d be fine.

He could check the cameras. But She said she was at her apartment. And checking them for worried reasons but not real reasons felt like an invasion.

She’d call if She needed him.

She would.

She’d been letting Bucky help, so She would call-

Tick. Tick. The gas in Her office had a similar sound.

Tick. The tap of Her fingers on the keyboard did too.

Tick. So did the sound of polished shoes on a floor, crossing over to Her and wrapping around her like She was something to be suffocated, rather than the most air Bucky had ever breathed maybe in his whole life-

There was a whine from the wood of Bucky’s chair, and he’d almost snapped the arm clean off. Shit.

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. It was going to rain later, because the air had that sticky quality that came with a storm. Sam’s office still had that ugly, gray carpet.

He liked that Sam at least texted to say he was running late, and would be up in a few minutes. He didn’t like that he wasn’t with Her, but he’d been thinking about that all morning, so he also didn’t like how he couldn’t think of a real reason to text Her.

He needed to yell at Sam later, about replacing that goddamn clock.

He wanted to just ask the question right away, when Sam got off the elevator with a wide grin and open arms. Bucky wanted to cut into it, and make sure he wasn’t right.

God, he really didn’t want to be right.

But he had to do the whole dance. Drop across from Sam in the office with a grimacing smile, settle in best he could, and ask about Sarah like a normal person-

“Man, you don’t care about that.” Sam gave him an amused look, leaning forward. “Sarah’s back home, last time you saw her was the last time I did too. But you know who I do know you care about?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Sam-“

“I heard about how you’ve been bullyin’ Happy Hogan-“

“It’s not bullying.”

“Fine, harassing-“

“I’m doing my damn job, Sam.” Bucky snapped, and Sam snorted.

“You got blocked.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Means you were goin’ way overboard. And if you say for a job, I swear to god, Buck, I’m gonna punch you in the face-“

Bucky scowled. “She’s my friend. You wanted us to be friends, and now we are, so shut up. Didn’t you want to talk to me about something-“

“Yeah,” Sam shrugged. “Progress report on Hydra, nothing. We’ve got jack shit. And I saw you guys at lunch, you weren’t talking like friends. You were actin’ like you’ve been married ten years-“

“We haven’t.”

“Yeah, but you wanna be, don’t you-“

“Sam.”

“C’mon, Bucky.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Do we gotta do this again? I’m joking about the marriage, but she stayed at your apartment. If you think there’s nothing there-“

“She has a boyfriend.” Bucky muttered, and the word felt sour in his mouth.

He might have made a face too, because Sam raised his brows. “She does. You got any feelings about that?”

“He’s a dick.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, he is. I mean- Jesus, man. You have no idea.”

Bucky sat up taller at that. He didn’t have an idea.

He really needed to, though.

“How did…” Buck paused, frowning at the air as he searched for the normal, casual, tactical way to bring this up. “That even happen.”

“I wish I knew.” Sam sighed. “She’s never really told me either. When we got blipped I’d been on the run a few years, but I’d still been sending her postcards, and she’d write back about how her siblings were doing. I’d ask if she was going to settle down herself and she’d dodge the question. Then I get back and she’s working for the Stark Foundation and dating the biggest asshole I’ve ever met in my life.”

Bucky grunted. “She ever mention how they met?”

“Nope.”

Fuck. “How about-“

“You never answered my question, Bucky.” Sam cut him off with short words, and Bucky swallowed. “You got feelings about her having a boyfriend?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “No. We’re not talking about this.”

“About what, Bucky?” Sam’s grin was shit-eating. This had been a horrible idea. “How that old heart of yours is finally pumping-“

“Sam-“

“I wouldn’t be against it.” Sam said quickly. “Miles is a dickbag.”

Bucky was going to break his teeth. “I know that-“

“I mean, I don’t ever really see him, and she doesn’t talk about him, but- Shit, Buck, he doesn’t even like her cat.”

Bucky frowned. “He doesn’t?”

“Nope. And I’ve never seen her like someone that didn’t like her cat. That thing has been with her as long as I’ve known her.”

Bucky paused. If Sam knew something about his theory, he would’ve said it here. Hell, now that Bucky was thinking about it, there was no way Sam would’ve known and let it continue. Sam did only see Her whenever he was in the city, and She was good at wearing all those masks and dancing through the world like it was all beneath Her, even when Bucky could see it crushing on Her shoulders.

And the Boy.

His name. Combined with the fact that—if Bucky’s math was right—he shouldn’t be half as young as he seemed.

There wasn’t a better time to ask.

“You know the Boy’s real name? Behemoth?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“Isn’t that the name of one of the Hydra projects?” Bucky said pointedly, and Sam sighed.

“Bucky, don’t tell me you think she’s fucking Hydra again-“

“No. That was- I don’t.“ Bucky let out a slow breath. “Just odd. Not a common name.”

“She’s not a common person. And I asked her about it, long time ago, and she said he just is the Behemoth.”

Bucky frowned. “The?”

“She was nine, man, I don’t think it’s that serious.”

“But-“

“Bucky. From what we’ve found, the Behemoth project got cancelled. Merged. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll go to her apartment right now and make sure they didn’t put doomsday in a cat-“

Bucky scowled. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Sam grinned, pushing up from his chair. “Let’s go, old man. You owe me a lunch.”

Bucky didn’t owe Sam anything. But he did want to talk to Sam about normal things for maybe twenty minutes—steering the conversation away from Her, all while only ever thinking of Her—and the sooner he finished up here, the sooner he could get back.

To Her.

If Sam pushed him about it—like the asshole tended to do—Bucky would make it real damn clear that he didn’t think She was guilty of anything. He looked at Her too much for that to be true.

Bucky could recognize a guilty person. A truly guilty person, who didn’t think they were doing a single thing wrong. They had a sort of indifference that Bucky was pretty sure She couldn’t fake if she tried.

Even with that dead-man-walking, tired, heavy air She seemed to carry with Her all the time lately, there was this something in Her. Emotion. Care.

The Moon, hidden but turning. She was still working Herself into the dust, and going on all Her business trips, no matter how many times Bucky and Sam tried to talk her out of public appearances.

“Have you tried to-“

“Yes.” Bucky grunted over lunch, glaring down at his sandwich. “She said no.”

Sam sighed. “She always says no, Buck. You gotta push it-“

“I do push it, when I think she’ll listen. But she won’t.”

“You ain’t gonna know that ‘till you push it-“

“Do you want to push it?” Bucky raised his brows, and Sam grimaced.

“Hell, no.”

“So-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get your point. You know better than good ol’ Sam, who’s basically her brother, and it’s not like we’ve known each other longer or something-“

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Is she at least working less?” Sam said, his voice a little softer than before. “I mean, I know she ain’t gonna stop, but Hydra tried to kidnap her and then camped outside her apartment, that’s gotta at least earn her a weekend.”

“She was working less.” Bucky muttered. “Then Miles stopped back in last week, and now it’s all she does.”

Sam made a sour expression, his eyes narrowing at his burger. “He still in town?”

“No.”

“Good. Fucking dipshit.”

Bucky nodded, but that might be a generous title for Miles.

He was a hell of a lot more than a dipshit. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to check the cameras or just ask Her to make sure he was wrong. That he wouldn’t have to introduce the man to a crash course of how much a vibranium punch could hurt. How it could—if tested—cleave right through someone’s chest.

And even if he was wrong, Bucky might just do that anyway.

He’d never seen Her move this little. He’d checked on Her, before he left for Sam’s office, and She’d bene curled up on the couch with Her laptop, loud music blaring from the TV. The only difference when he got back was that the Boy had settled himself near Her feet, and was glaring at Her as she typed away.

She didn’t even look up when he walked inside and kicked off his shoes.

Bucky grunted Her name, moving to lean over the couch. “You eaten today?”

She hummed, still not looking at him. “Had the sandwich you brought me.”

“It still in you?”

“That’s disgusting, James. I’m not that type of girl.”

He gave Her a flat look, biting the inside of his cheek. This was serious. There was less color in Her face than when he’d left. “You know that’s not what I meant, Butterfly.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you do.” Bucky reached over Her to grab her laptop, and she let out the highest, most adorably frantic sound Bucky had ever heard, pulling Her laptop right into her chest.

“Bucky, I’m busy-“

“You’ve been busy all fuckin’ morning-“

“Because I have things to do-“

Bucky grunted Her name, not releasing his grip on the computer. “You promised me a movie.”

She blinked up at him with the doe-eyes, and the heat was settling a little deeper than just his skin. Bucky couldn’t grab Her chin and tip it further. Couldn’t keep Her gaze trapped on his and lean down to kiss her, right until she let out another pretty sound and all that life rushed back into Her features. Until She looked more like a bright, loud bird of paradise again, and less like something aimless and half-dead, floating through the air as if She was a ghost.

If Bucky got to have Her, he’d never let Her look like a ghost. He’d keep Her right at his side, and listen to her all the time, and right now he’d distract Her with teasing kisses all over her face until she was letting out that all-consuming and drug-like giggle, and her grip slackened on Her laptop. Then maybe he’d climb over Her and kiss her into the couch, and She’d relax below him because She’d trust Bucky to take care of Her.

Control was slipping too far out of his reach, because She did trust Bucky to take care of Her. More than anyone else, at least.

And despite what Sam claimed, he would push it.

He gave a slight tug of the laptop again and raised his brows, and She pouted but released it.

That shouldn’t make him feel like he was glowing.

It did.

“You suck.” She mumbled, crossing Her arms over her chest, and Bucky laughed.

“I’ve heard that before. Last time it was cause I wouldn’t let you drive-“

“I’m a good driver-“

“Sure, Butterfly.”

She stuck Her tongue out at him. Bucky wanted to pull it between his teeth. “So smooth, James-“

“Only for you.”

Bucky didn’t flinch when she slapped his shoulder, and this was the only reason he hadn’t grabbed Her face between his hands and demanded to know what was wrong. In these moments—when it was just them, and She didn’t look lost enough that Bucky was worried he’d touch Her and she’d fall apart—She was herself. Still a little soft and quieter than Bucky would like, but Herself.

And the movie was fine, but Bucky would probably need to rewatch it later, when She wasn’t there. When She was next to him, paying attention to anything else was impossible. It was exactly what he’d wanted—Her settled deep into the couch, their knees brushing and a million bolts of lightning rushing through his blood whenever She smiled—but if She asked him a single question about what was happening, he wouldn’t be able to answer.

That had been true of most things, lately. When the movie finished and they ate dinner, Bucky had to force himself not to stare at Her lips, in a slightly pucker as she ate a noodle. Her knee was bouncing under the table—that was a good sign—and She’d gotten sauce on Her face he wanted to wipe off with his thumb, but that wasn’t a friend thing.

He was pretty sure.

He wouldn’t wipe sauce off Sam’s face, and he wouldn’t have wiped it off Steve’s face, but Sam would punch him and Steve had never gotten sauce on his face, so-

“Bucky?” She was waving a hand in front of his face, and he blinked at Her. “Sargent Bucky Barnes-“

He caught Her hand—it fit pretty damn well in his—and dragged it down to the table. “What?”

“You were ignoring me-“

“I was thinking.”

She hummed. He was still holding Her hand. “About what?”

Her. Kissing Her. Launching himself over the table and trying to find out how loud he could make Her whine his name, and if She’d give him doe-eyes when he was buried inside of Her and worshipping Her like the strange, alien deity she was-

“James.”

Fuck. Control. “Nothin’.”

She frowned. “Liar. What were you thinking about?“

“Noth-“

“Don’t say nothing.” She snapped. “Or I’ll punch you.”

Bucky snorted. “Alright.”

There was a short silence, and She was glowering at him like she really did want to land that punch. Bucky really needed to teach Her how to do that. If not for his own, rotten, selfish, not-very-friend-like reasons—he’d get to touch Her, and stare at Her, and maybe She’d lean into him or leave a bruise on his skin—so for his fucking sanity. If She was going to keep running that smart, pretty mouth of Her’s—which She was, because She was infuriating and magnetic and loud—Bucky needed to know She could back herself up.

He shifted that somewhere around in his log, as She kept glaring at him. He needed to make sure She could fight.

Maybe not now, though. Given the death-glare he was getting, later seemed like the best course of action.

“Are you not going to say anything?”

Bucky shrugged, giving her a small grin. “You said you’d punch me, sweetheart, I’m defending myself.”

“We both know you’d be fine-“

“Do we?”

She scowled, and noodle whacked Bucky right in the face. “I hate you.”

“Yep.” He ate the noodle, and just kept grinning at Her. Jesus, She was pretty. “You wanna hear what Sam said?”

Her nose wrinkled, but She nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Such good manners-“

“Shut up.”

Bucky laughed again, and She wasn’t actually mad at him. Bucky could recognize Her real fury from anywhere. Sometimes he could swear he felt it spike over his bones. Right now She was only an angry cat, biting at his ankles to try and make him play.

He’d like to play with Her. However She let him. On the table, or against the wall, or even in a bed he hadn’t slept in for over eighty years-

Focus.

Friends. They were friends. And She a boyfriend Bucky needed to be watching more carefully, because the mission was keep Her safe, not fuck Her.

He cleared his throat. “He doesn’t know anything. Even said they didn’t have any new leads. It’s just us, Butterfly.”

She hummed, still watching him so carefully. “Just us?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.” She twirled Her fork, the spaghetti moving into that strange pattern she always made. “Good.”

Bucky grunted an agreement, and the heat seems to be living everywhere. He felt a little like a volcano, and one wrong brush of Her bare skin, one word that wasn’t mocking, but sincere, would set him off.

Just us.

He was torturing himself.

Every goddamn second, Bucky was torturing himself. When he got home and he kept wanting to call Her, just to talk. When he’d walk past his empty bedroom, and fail to not glance in to check on Her, when she wasn’t even there. When he read another book She gave him, and tried to figure out why She liked it.

He really wanted to know what made Her like something. If Bucky could be something She liked enough to be loud and immovable about.

If She’d ever want to come back to his apartment, now that he had a carpet and blanket and singular painting of a city skyline on his wall.

She’d like the painting. He’d bought it because She’d like it.

It was getting a little pathetic, how Bucky was staring to shift everything around in hopes She’d want to rest at his side.

But it made him better. Everything looked better, and tasted better, and felt better. Just because of Her.

Even silence was better. Just as long as Bucky was sharing it with Her.

“Do you like blue or purple more?”

Bucky glanced up from his computer—they’d been sitting in the office for damn near two hours without a word, and he’d been alternating between more classes and watching Her work like a creep—and She was looking at him like his answer would be the most important thing in the world.

“For napkins,” She added, and he blinked at Her.

“What.”

“I’m making final calls about decoration shit,” She waved a hand to Her computer, frowning slightly at the air. “Apparently everyone can figure out catering and speakers by themselves, but napkins need my opinion.”

Bucky was pretty damn sure everything should need Her opinion, but he also knew that if he told Her that, She’d do something stupid like try to plan the whole thing herself. “Uh- Blue.”

She hummed, nodding slowly. “Good.”

“Good?”

“That was what I would’ve said too.” She shrugged, and Bucky raised his brows.

“Were you testing me, Butterfly?”

“I- No-“ She shook Her head, her words almost frantic. “I just don’t think I should be the only person to make the choice.“

“They’re napkins.” Bucky’s voice was flat, and She shook her head.

“They’re expensive napkins.”

“Then get cheaper napkins.”

“I can’t. If I get cheap napkins, all the donors will somehow smell it, and they’ll all be offended we didn’t respect them enough, and we won’t raise enough money to do the prosthetics and vaccine-“

Bucky muttered Her name, and it shouldn’t feel so good that She snapped her mouth shut. “Deep breathes.”

“I am breathing-“

“Not deeply.”

She glared at him, but took a long, slow breath, and Bucky kept talking.

“I know Wakanda. T’challa’s a good man, if you ask him to help you fund some stuff, he’ll do it-“

“But I don’t want a discount-“

“And,” Bucky kept his voice firm, holding Her gaze. “I was joking. I know you wouldn’t test me like that.”

She paused. “You do?”

“Yeah. You’re not exactly subtle when you do test me.”

She sighed, pouting slightly and mumbling under Her breath. “I don’t mean to-“

“I know. ’S alright.” He liked being tested. It gave him something to do. More chances to show Her that he could keep Her safe. More opportunities to get closer to Her, until he’d earned Her trust. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh.” She whispered, Her eyes wide on his, and the Moon was glowing.

Bucky really wished he could figure out what the hell that meant.

But She slumped into Her seat with an easy, slow breath, and that was enough.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” She grumbled, shredding at one of the papers on her desk. “Thanks.”

He snorted. “Say it like you mean it, sweetheart-“

“Thank you, Sargent Barnes.” She leaned forward, smiling too sweet and speaking too soft. “I’m never going to be able to make it up to you, and I’d fall apart without you. You saved me-“

“Alright.” He pushed the words through his teeth, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Smart mouth, Butterfly.”

She hummed, the smile on Her face wide and toothy and real, and Bucky never wanted to see anything else on Her face again.

Once this was sorted out—Hydra and, hopefully, Miles—maybe Bucky would get to see nothing else. Maybe he’d prove himself enough that She’d want to keep him as more than a bodyguard or friend. He couldn’t think of a better place to be.

But for now, they had to sort this out.

She’d given them a damn good reason to be calling with Wakanda. Her schedule was marked yellow for vaccine meeting, and Grace had strict orders not to let anyone bother them. The meeting was so late because of the time difference, and they’d be calling Shuri’s lab to cover all remaining tracks.

They’d stop being careful once they could be. Once they had something that could only be dealt with via guns and muscle, when Bucky would have to pass himself over to Sam with the information. She’d agreed to that. Promised that, once they had some solid ideas, She’d sit back and let them handle it.

This would, hopefully, be a step towards that. Bucky standing awkwardly over Her as they waited for the meeting to start, Her fingers shredding at paper and her leg bouncing under Her desk. Zemo would have information for them, they’d be closer to being out of this mess—closer to Her being safe—and Bucky could focus on Her.

“Bucky.” She was tipping Her head back in her seat, frowning up at him, and he nodded for Her to continue. “You ready?”

“Course I’m ready.” He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothin’ he can do to me across the ocean.”

She frowned. “Yeah, but-“

Bucky grunted Her name, his hand moving to grab Her by the chin. Keep their eyes connected, so She’d be able to see that he meant every word his was saying.

It was a stupid move. Little rushes of lightning were shooting up his arm, he was sort of falling into Her beauty, and She wasn’t swatting him away. She should be. Things would be so much easier if She did.

“Buck?” She whispered—he’d been staring at Her too long—and he coughed.

“Don’t worry about me,” he muttered, scanning over Her features carefully. She, at least, looked okay. “I’m fine, Butterfly. And they’ll be keepin’ him in line on their end. We’re asking the questions, he’s giving the answers. That’s it.”

She swallowed, Her voice still too soft. “What do I do if he asks me a question?”

“Ignore it.”

“But-“

“Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky’s gaze shot up to the screen, finding a very amused Shuri looking between Her in the chair, Bucky over Her, and his hand still on Her chin.

She still wasn’t pushing him away.

It felt like he’d been branded on his fingertips, when he let go.

Shuri said Her name with a smile, and She nodded quickly, sitting a little taller.

“Your majesty, it’s an honor-“

“It should not be.” Shuri shrugged, still giving Bucky a shit-eating grin he really didn’t need right now. “If this is an honor, your life sounds quite boring.”

She frowned. “I mean- It kind of is. My life.”

“Ah. Honest.” Shuri grinned at Bucky. “I like her.”

Bucky liked Her too.

He just grunted, and lowered himself more into the screen. “Good. Shuri, I’m grateful for this, but we’re on a clock-“

“I know. You get an hour, starting when I move your call to his cell. Ayo is with him for immediate action, but we have more of the Dora Milaje on standby if they are needed-“

“They won’t be.” Bucky cut Shuri off with a shake of his head. Zemo was a manipulative shithead, but nothing he said could affect Her and Bucky, and the Dora Milaje weren’t exactly weak-minded women. “Seriously though, Shuri. Thank you.”

Shuri just shrugged. “Do not bother with thanks. You are my friend, and I am bored. I am hoping you’ll have a puzzle for me to solve.”

“We’ll call you if we do.” Bucky gave her a tight nod, and Shuri beamed.

“Lovely, White Wolf. Have fun.”

The screen went dark for a second, and She glance back up.

“White Wolf?”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll tell you later. You want to do the talking, or-“

“James.”

He needed to pay more attention to the screen. To drag his gaze away from Her and focus on the actual meeting.

Maybe then he would have been ready for the chill that rushed his body at that voice.

He fucking hated that Zemo could still do that to him. It lit some of that useless anger all over his bone and in his gut, made him fists clench and his stomach turn. He’d let go. He was supposed to have let go. Zemo couldn’t hurt him.

Couldn’t hurt Her.

“Zemo.” He muttered, giving the man a grimacing smile through the camera, and Zemo grinned right back.

“You look healthy. Your hair, it is nice longer. Always was nice longer, though I understand wanting to dodge public attention-“

“Yeah, we’re not here to talk about my hair.” Bucky braced his hands on the back of Her chair. “We’ve got some questions for you. All you gotta do is answer.”

“By we,” Zemo drawled, his gaze falling onto Her, and Bucky’s grip tightened. “I presume you mean the woman between us who you have yet to introduce me to? That is not very polite, James-“

“Thinking I’m going to speak for her isn’t exactly chivalrous either.” Bucky grumbled, and Zemo’s brows raised.

“You are protective of her.”

In and out. Breathe in and out. He couldn’t do the exercise right now, but he had to breathe.

Zemo wasn’t in his head. He couldn’t be. And Ayo was watching silently in the corner. Everything was fine.

“We’re asking the questions.” She said, before Bucky could respond. “You’re Baron Zemo?”

“I believe I am.” Zemo hummed, and Bucky couldn’t smash the camera to stop him from looking at Her. That would be expensive, and detrimental to the whole process. “Who are you? Forgive me for being curious, but James doesn’t exactly make friends.”

She said Her name, and Bucky didn’t like it. He’d told Her not to answer questions, but he should’ve known better than to think She’d listen. They would’ve had to tell Zemo Her name anyway—Hydra was after Her—but it still made him sick, the way Zemo repeated it back, looking at Her so carefully. Like he was estimating the cost of Her cage.

“I recognize that name.” Zemo hummed, and Bucky was going to break the fucking chair. It couldn’t be that fucking easy. “I have seen you. On the TV. You had a very familiar face, when Stark presented you. His diamond, found during that horribly named blip.” Zemo tilted his head at Her. “How did you fall into this sort of a company?”

It wasn’t that easy.

Fuck.

“Bucky’s helping me.” She muttered, Her words slow. She was being careful.

Good.

“He’s my friend.”

“Friend.” Zemo’s eyes glided back to Bucky. “You have been busy, James.”

“You have no idea.” He muttered, before raising his voice back up. “You really don’t recognize her. And don’t lie. It won’t help you.”

Zemo sighed. “I am past helping myself. I know I will be here for the rest of my life, and it is not the worst fate. Wakanda treats their prisoners quite well. I get cable TV. And I have watched you many times.” He nodded to Her. “You are very magnetic. A good speaker. A shame to waste it on a Stark organization.”

She tensed, but Bucky kept pushing. They’d talked about this. They had questions set up, as well as a plan—She’d made questions, and Bucky had decided which ones would be best to ask—and Bucky could do this. Ignore to fury, and how he wanted to wrap around Her and shield her from Zemo’s view.

They just needed fucking something.

“You really don’t recognize her from anywhere else.”

Zemo gave Bucky an amused look. “I do not know. Should I?”

“How about old Hydra files.”

“James, I have said this many times. I was never involved with Hydra. Everything I know was released by the Black Widow. It is public knowledge.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “We both know that’s not true.”

“It is not my fault others do not share my curiosity.” Zemo shrugged. “If you are looking for a decryption, I am afraid I do charge-“

“What about numbers?” She cut in with soft words. “Would you recognize those? From the files?”

“I may. Am I permitted to ask why-“

“No.” Bucky grunted, nodding for her to continue, and she started to count off on Her fingers as she listed.

“Twenty-seven, twelve- Um, sixteen, nineteen, eighty-four-“

Zemo cleared his throat. “Nineteen eight-four is the date of Howard Stark’s murder. James, I am surprised you would miss that.”

Fuck. It was.

And that just gave him more fucking questions.

“How about Project Ouroboros.” He muttered. “You heard of it?”

“Project…” Zemo trailed off, frowning at the air. “Interesting. How did you come across that?”

“Just answer the fucking question.”

Zemo sighed. “I know of project Ouroboros. A hyper-secretive Hydra project, starting in nineteen nintey-nine. Short-lived. Tragic.”

“How did you hear about it?” Bucky kept his voice even, but the Soldat was starting to scratch at the back of his skull. “Your name was on the files, Zemo, so-“

“My name?” Zemo frowned. “My name should not be on any files.”

“Well, it is. So you need to start talking-“

“My first name?”

Bucky blinked. “What.”

“Was it my family name, James, or my name? My name is Helmut Zemo.”

“Uh,” Bucky glanced to Her, and She shook her head. “Family name.”

“Interesting.”

Bucky frowned. “What-“

“You look to the girl.” Zemo hummed. “For orders.”

Not useful anger. “That isn’t what should be interesting. Why is your family name on the files.”

“Oh, that isn’t interesting.” Zemo waved Bucky off with a sigh. “My father. He was often foolish. Liked to sponsor Hydra projects with what he believed to be potential. Ouroboros went under quite dramatically, as I remember. Only half in association with Hydra, mysterious funding, a gamble that did not seem to pay. And their prize, the Leviathan,” Zemo laughed, and it crawled over Bucky’s skin. “I visited with my father, once. I was interested in the science of it, and some strings were pulled for me to see the lab.”

“I thought you weren’t involved with Hydra,” Bucky muttered, and Zemo shrugged.

“It was unwise to not associate with Hydra, at the time. And I was mostly just curious of this project. A world-eater. The ultimate weapon.” Zemo laughed. “It was just as terrifying as promised. Black eyes.”

She tensed. “Eyes?”

“And glowing, white hair. Like biblical angels and demons all at once, come to bring judgement on us all.”

“So they finished the Leviathan.” Bucky could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “It’s done.”

“Yes. For over two decades. And it was all power. You could feel it, in the room. And that was in its infancy. I imagine now, it would be dreadful. Damning.” Zemo gave Bucky a small smile, his voice dropping to something soft. “You should know this, James.”

Bucky scowled, and the Soldat was banging on his skull. “Really.”

Zemo nodded. “You have met it.”

The Soldat roared in the back of his brain. And in the distance, he could sort of hear Her wrapping it up. Thanking Zemo for his cooperation—of course She would—and thanking Ayo as well.

He’d never met the Leviathan.

He didn’t think he had.

He had no memory of it.

But he didn’t have clear memory of… a lot of things.

Fuck.

“White Wolf.” Ayo said, and Bucky shook himself. Focus. “I hope this was as helpful as you wished it to be.”

“It was.” He muttered, and She gave a small nod in agreement. “Could you ask Shuri to send me anything Wakanda has on Hydra or their science? I can, uh- Write an email-“

“I will pass it on.” Ayo said, Bucky grumbled his thanks, and the screen went dark.

“That didn’t go horribly.” She mumbled, and Bucky grunted. “I mean, that’s something, right?”

“Yeah.” He muttered. It wasn’t enough, though. “I’m thinking the numbers might line up with more missions.”

“Right.” She mumbled, poorly hiding a yawn behind Her hand. “Smart.”

Bucky let out a slow breath.

The Soldat was still scratching at his head. Zemo had been a cryptic asshole, and if Bucky hadn’t been drowning in his own head, he would’ve pushed for more. More information, more leads, more anything.

They had what they had. And Bucky could deal with the itch of the Soldat himself, later. Pounding at the base of his skull, trying to rip a fog away that Bucky wasn’t even sure was real.

But She was real. Looking up at Bucky with a pretty frown, and looking exhausted again.

He could deal with that now.

“C’mon.” Bucky started to stand, and She frowned at him.

“Buck-“

“It’s late, Butterfly.”

“You’re up too-“

“I’m a super-solider.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s so annoying when you pull that card-“

“Yeah, I know. C’mon.”

“But we need to talk about that-“

His jaw clenched. “Tomorrow.”

“Bucky-“

He muttered Her name, holding Her gaze, and grabbing her chin again.

She definitely should have pushed him away that time.

She still didn’t.

“Please.” He mumbled. He needed to do something. Everything was out of his hands, and a mess, and he fucking hated messes. He was so good at making them. He’d always tried to be good at cleaning them up.

He wasn’t, though.

And She was tangible. Warm under his hands. Something he could fix. Could do something about.

She had to understand that. Her, of all people, needed to get that the Soldat was bursting and ripping in his head, and he just couldn’t.

She was scanning over him so carefully, and Bucky tried to make his features as open as possible. It wasn’t easy.

But for Her, he’d try.

“Okay.” She whispered, and Bucky could feel his shoulders slump, the air is his lungs growing less hot in a split second. “Do you wanna eat dinner at my place?”

Bucky gave Her a small grin. He couldn’t think of a single damn thing in the world that would be better. “I’m buying.”

She scoffed, pushing to Her feet. “No, you’re not.”

“Try me, Butterfly-“

“I will.” She gave him a wide smile, falling right into pace at his side. “I’ll kick your ass.”

Not trying to make him talk about it. Or confront it. Just there, and smiling at him.

Caring.

She cared.

Bucky knew She cared, because She didn’t waver or balk for a second. She let him drive, but stole his phone so he couldn’t buy the food. She glared at the Boy—strange, luminous eyed creature, looking at Bucky like he could see into his brain—when he jumped onto Bucky’s lap, but it was fake.

Bucky knew when She was being fake.

This was real. Her knee against his. Her laugh filling the air.

And Bucky felt better.

Good.

She was there, and even after the whole day, even with the Soldat, Bucky felt fucking good.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt good.

But he knew, looking at Her in all Her inhuman beauty and exhaustion, he’d never be able to ask to feel anything better than this.

End Note: The plot. It thickens. The tension. It's going to snap. They both. Need to kiss.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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coolshadowtwins · 1 year ago

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SVSSS fanfic that I will never write-

LBH post canon accidently goes back in time. How? I don’t know, it isn’t important. If I had to pick a stupid reason, then in PIDW had a storyline where LBH went back in time to a wife’s past to like… learn more about her? To help her in the trauma? IDK but what I do know is that Peerless Cucumber would have ranged for hours about Airplane adding in the concept of time travel and then doing nothing else’s with it.

And guess who the subject of the wife plot is now??? That’s right- SQQ. Except the wife plot took the body and not the soul, and now Binghe is back during SJ’s disciple days.

LBH somehow, as the main character, manages to convince the peak lords of the time that he’s of Qing Jing! He is, really! He really laid on the charm here.

Previous Sect leader: I don’t know if I believe you, but since you look like such a polite young man-

LBH gets escorted away to a room by the head disciple. And who is the head disciple of the sect leader peak??? It’s Yue Qi, sad and depressed and lifeless because LBH managed to find himself in the period of time where YQY thinks SJ is dead!

LBH: I want to meet my young Shizun. Shen Qingqiu- Shen Jiu I think now?

YQY: …. Xiao Jiu is dead?

LBH: Maybe in the future for like five years but not right now!! He’s my super awesome Shizun! …. Do you want to drop everything to go look for him?

YQY: Oh boy, do I!!!

So the two bounce from the sect with no warning, looking Shen Jiu. Luckily, now knowing that he is alive and didn’t die in the fire, it’s pretty easy to follow the line of gossip that follows WY and SJ. And of course, the entire time, LBH is praising his Shizun.

Now, he hasn’t said that he was married to his Shizun. He didn’t want to spoil that just yet! He’ll reveal that to his younger Shizun himself when they find him. But until then, he can still tell YQY how awesome his Shizun is, and how nice, and how close he was to SQH and LQG and even to YQY himself! (That last one was a bit of a fib, of course. SQQ was always a little uncomfortable around the sect leader. But YQY was eating all of this up, being so happy that his childhood friend was so happy and well liked, and well…. It was only a small fib)

They finally catches up with them, and quickly dealing with the other guy, YQY and SJ have a nice reunion, having both think the other was dead! And of course, it was incredibly clear that YQY had been looking for SJ this whole time, which does wonders for his abandonment issues. SJ may yell at YQY for leaving the sect so suddenly and risking everything just for him, but on the inside, he is bursting for joy, trust me.

LBH is not bursting for joy. Like, at all. He had been so excited to see his Shizun but young and now that he’s here…. Something inside of him and screaming that this wasn’t his Shizun.

He had no reason to believe that. This was very clearly SQQ at 14~. But of course, he’s the 200 IQ protagonist and figures it out quickly that his wonderful Shizun/husband took over his body when LBH was 14 and that this was his shitty Shizun that made his early years in the sect awful.

He’s fully ok with that. If his husband needs to possess another man to be with him, than who is LBH to judge? Only the best body for him! The problem is, of course, that he has spent the entire trip over ranting to YQY about how good of a teacher SQQ was to him, and now YQY is excitedly telling everything he said to SJ. LBH can’t just…. Back track now! That would be weird, and if they think that someone will possess SJ later, then what if his husband never shows up??

So he goes along with it. It isn’t hard- he doesn’t hate SJ, not like PIDW him would. He was only under him for three years~ and a lot of what happened to him was still being justified in his head. So it’s just… whatever, to him at that point. He confirms what YQY had been saying, spins a charismatic lie to the sect about why they left and how GREAT SJ will be as a disciple in the future, and then he leaves. Just, fades away in front of everyone.

And now this is SJ’s life. He thinks he’s a good Shizun in the future, even if he can’t stand kids. He think that he becomes friends with SQH and LQG, which is oddly hard to do?? LQG angrily wants to fight him every time he sees him, which is super annoying, and SJ is 88% sure that SQH is talking to demons but, you know. If another version of him managed to become their friend without future knowledge, then he has to do it now! He has a head start on the race here, no way is he losing it!

He does become friends with them, and is still incredibly close to YQY as they grow up. He’s still… him, but his major heart demons- the abandonment by his Qi-Ge and being unsafe even in the sect- aren’t there anymore. He even manages to be an ok Shizun to a young LBH, somehow. He’s pretty sure that he’s sucking at that, btw, because the little brat gets on his nerves when they are in the same room for more than five minutes, but he’s being mostly polite! He had to wonder what the other version of him did to get such a glowing review from the future version of his disciple, because it has to be more than this.

Ironically, because I think it’s funny, this is the timeline that our LBH finds himself back in. The time travel was always meant to be a stable one timeline kinda thing, so anything he changed in the past affected the future. I imagine in PIDW that LBG didn’t do much of anything but maybe comfort his future wife, for Airplane’s fear of making a confusing paradox for himself. But this Binghe? Oh no, he did so much!

Because he saved SJ some heart demons, and helped him make friends despite his trauma, he’s not as prone to Qi divinations! Which means that he didn’t have a fatal one when LBH was 14! Which means when LBH gets back to his time after all of that, he takes one look at his ‘Shizun’ and knows that this isn’t his husband. Which means that his husband never possessed SJ!

He’s horrified, and spends a whole day moping around the peak, trying to think of ways to fix this. He has just gotten himself worked up to go and do something drastic when NYY finds him.

NYY: There you are!! Shen-Shidi has been looking for you all day!

LBH: H-huh?

NYY: Why are you moping around, huh? Did you and Shen-Shidi have a fight? Don’t worry! He’s your husband, I know he’ll forgive you-!

LBH: WHAT.

And that’s how he learns that while he isn’t married to his Shizun in this timeline, he is married to his Shixiong, Shen Yuan! Shen Yuan, who got shoved in Willy nilly when the system realized that SJ wasn’t going to die when he was supposed to.

There’s probably some sequel where LBH has to fake that he has memories of what happened in this timeline, which I imagine is somewhat close to Svsss? The system was still running around, even if a major player has changed. And LBH would just be so bad at faking it in front of two people and two people only- SJ and SY.

SY: Binghe, don’t you remember our first date? :)

LBH: …It wasn’t the water prison!

SY: ….that statement is correct but also the wrong answer.

And

SJ: Beast, you’re not coming to this Immortal Convenance. Don’t you remember meber what happened last time?

LBH: …. You didn’t push me into the endless abyss?

SJ:… That statement is wrong and I was also going for the HHP tag alongs you obtained.

#svsss #svsss au #time travel #fanfic concept #luo binghe #shen yuan #shen jiu #shen qingqiu #yue qingyuan #liu qingge #shang qinghua #ning yingying

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nightshadeweek · 3 months ago

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Stranger Week 2025 Prompts & Rules

(Find the text-only version of this post here!)

The prompts for Stranger Week 2025 are here!

For this event, we chose to divide the prompts into three categories: ROT for darker prompts, GUIDANCE for thematic or character prompts, and HOPE for respite prompts. Of course, you don’t need to feel restricted to just one category; you can use any prompt you wanna use, or simply go by your own.

Stranger Week 2025 will run from Monday 14 July until Sunday 20 July.

Daily prompts

Rules and Guidelines

Above all, have fun!

Enter the event however you would enjoy it most, that's all that matters. If you're interested in being reblogged by the account, these could be an interesting read.

What can I create?

Absolutely anything, so long as it’s Stranger-centric.

You can use the prompts, or you can just tag the week in Stranger-centric fanworks you create. You can draw art, write fic or meta, create cosplay, make arts and crafts, write headcanons, make videos, compose edits and collages—so long as your work centres and celebrates Stranger, we’re happy to have it!

By Stranger-centric, we mean that he’s the central character in the work. This doesn’t mean he needs to be the POV character, as you can also write about characters perceiving or thinking about Stranger.

What won’t be shared?

This event is accessible to all ages. While canon compliant dark themes and gore are allowed, any works with sexually explicit content won't be shared by the account for this reason. Artistic and non-sexualised nudity is fine and will be tagged for. Refer to this ask for more clarity on the specifics of this.

We also won’t share Stranger-centric fanworks that bash him (à la “here’s my essay on why Stranger SUCKS”). In any case of doubt about intention, other works posted will be taken into account to gauge intention; but we simply don’t want negativity to spread through the event. Angst, dark themes, and works where Stranger is victimised in horrible events are fine, as is tongue-in-cheek making fun of him, but they need to come from a place of love and spreading fun, not one of mockery of him and his fans and one of hatred.

Can I draw other characters or ships that don’t involve Stranger?

Absolutely! You can add other characters and relationships and even make them main characters, so long as Stranger is also the central character they share the spotlight with.

We embrace any and all ships, even if they’re not Stranger ships, and will happily accept them as supplementary to the works made for the event. Just like how we accept any and all Stranger ships! Just don’t expect art of a non-Stranger ship with Stranger’s hand appearing in one corner of the canvas to be considered Stranger-centric.

This is also an offshoot of the nightshade week event, but Stranger week itself is unrelated to nightshade week. You can make completely platonic works, just like you can showcase any other Stranger or Omori ships. So no, no nightshade is required!

Do my entries have to follow canon?

Nope! You can do whatever you want to canon. Follow it, tweak it, crumple it up into a ball and toss it into the trashcan. We accept any and all Stranger headcanons, regardless of whether they’re about his appearance, his gender, his personality, his canon, anything. You wanna write about real world Stranger the entire event long? Knock yourself out!

Will you accept works focusing on non-Basil Strangers, like Kel Stranger?

Absolutely! While this event is all about celebrating the character Stranger, which in the files and the fandom’s consciousness refers to the Shadow Basil character, we think that anyone who thinks that the other Stranger variants should fall under this name should also get their time to shine. The prompts are written to be thematically applicable to the Shadow Basil variant who wants to lead Sunny to the truth.

What tag can I use?

You can use the Twitter tag #strangerweek2025 and the Tumblr tag #stranger week 2025. You can also tag the account (@nightshadeweek on both platforms) if your entry wasn't seen or send a DM to the account. On AO3, you can use the Stranger Week 2025 (OMORI) tag, as we’ll try to get it made canonical like the nightshade week tag.

How do I pick prompts?

You're free to use and interpret the prompts however you want. You don't have to do all the prompts, you can skip days, you can mix prompts, you can do prompts on different days, etc. If you want, you can also simply submit some Stranger fanworks that don't follow any prompts. This event is all about celebrating Stranger and creating new things for him together.

Do I have to complete every day or follow one category?

Not at all! You can do one day or all days. You can do one path or all paths. You don't have to follow a set path either; the categories are just there to give the prompts themes. Mix and match as you see fit!

Can I submit late entries?

Late entries are definitely welcome! After the event has ended, I will still regularly check the tag and share late entries.

Let's see what beautiful creations y'all have in store, and I look forward to seeing the fanworks that flow from this!

#stranger #omori stranger #stranger omori #omori basil #basil omori #omori #omori game #omori fandom #fandom event #admin post #prompts #long post #stranger week #stranger week 2025

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musings-of-a-rose · 14 days ago

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Meet the Millers - Chapter 15

Pairing: Joel Miller x Benny Miller x Will Miller x Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 8000+

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: I’m sorry this took so long to get to. I’ll make it up by word count and an additional chapter! Well folks, it's finally here! I originally ended this series back in April 2022, nearly a year before TLOU season 1 debuted. I thought it was over, but not only did I have a few scenes I wanted to write but wouldn't fit, SO MANY PEOPLE asked me for more. No one more than @theewokingdead so I dedicate this last half of the series to her!

Posted in 2022: This is set loosely in The Last of Us universe. I’ve only played a bit of the game and watched others play (and the show isn’t out yet), so please forgive any inaccuracies. Also it’s a post-apocalyptic world so I’m taking a bunch of liberties here. Because fan fiction.

Ages at the time of this story (so you don’t have to do math):

Reader: 29

Benny: 36

Will: 39

Joel: 51

Main Masterlist

Meet the Millers Masterlist

<<Chapter 14<<

“They were definitely here,” Will kneels down, sliding one of Ellie’s comics out from under a makeshift bed on the floor in a basement. We had ridden more than several miles out, following their trail, which led us here. We had ditched the horses once we realized we were tracking other people as well. Horses are really obvious and may be a magnet for anyone who is starving through winter. Will hands me the comic and I gently run my hand along the front, a memory of Ellie overacting a scene from it flashing before me. I swing my backpack around and carefully stick it inside, resituating the pack.

We head back out and into the house next to this one. Benny counts on his fingers, giving us the countdown before he opens the door. The door opens and we move as one unit, a quiet gasp leaving my lips as we all take in the mess in the living room. 2 dead bodies, each brutally tortured and eventually killed, left behind to rot. Benny moves into the room, pushing each body over with his boot to look at their faces. Neither one of them familiar. I let out a breath of relief at that. We clear the rest of the house and meet in the kitchen.

“Think that was Joel?” I ask, gesturing towards the living room.

Will nods. “Looks like his handiwork.”

My mind wanders back to a conversation that Joel and I had, about his previous life. The one after outbreak day. Where he tortured and stole and lot of other horrible things that he very much regrets. A small lump in my throat forms and I swallow it down, thinking of what that must have cost him to do that. But I also know that it would be no hesitation on his part to do that to anyone who hurt any one of us or took-

“Someone has Ellie,” I blurt out over their conversation.

Benny’s eyebrows pinch together. “What? Why do you think that?”

“Why else would Joel torture people like that? He’s not sadistic. And if it was for supplies, he’d have just taken them. Or…or maybe killed them. But torture? He was after information. And the only reason he wouldn’t have waited for us to catch up is if-”

“Someone took Ellie,” Benny finishes, his eyes hardening as he clenches his jaw. “So…how do we find these fuckers?”

Will takes out his map and starts to study it while I motion for Benny to follow me. I head back into the living room and we each start to pad down the bodies. Finding nothing of importance, we head back into the kitchen, Will hunched over the map he spread on the kitchen table. He glances up at us. “Anything?”

I shake my head. “No. Not even a weapon. Joel must have taken them. You?” I walk up and place my hand on his back, looking down at the map.

He points to a few places on it. “There are some neighborhoods around here, like this one. And this resort up the road a few miles. It’s a lot of houses.”

Benny shifts his rifle up higher on his shoulder. “Let’s look outside. See if we can find anything. Joel is good about covering his tracks but maybe he left us some clues.” We all file out after Benny, Will stuffing his now folded up map back in his inside jacket pocket. It doesn’t take us long to find some tracks, but they also look like an injured person walking.

“He’s hurt,” I say, pressing my gloved hand into the bootprint in the snow. “I’m not sure if it’s a leg injury, but he’s limping pretty good.” I swallow down that familiar lump. “It looks like just him. No tracks for Ellie.”

“Fuck,” Benny whispers. “Let’s go get these assholes.”

Despite being injured and in a rush, Joel does a pretty damn good job of covering his tracks, the thick snow giving him extra cover. We track him for a few miles, Will referring to the map and deducing that we were heading towards the resort. But then his tracks veer off, heading down a road when the resort was up it.

“Do you smell that?” Benny asks and we all sniff. Smoke. We all start looking around for any sign of a blaze. The trees are tall, making visibility difficult, even in snow. We continue following his tracks, rounding a corner before we see the smoke billowing out from a small building, probably a former restaurant of some kind. We draw our guns, picking up the pace towards the burning building. 2 figures come from around the back of the building, stumbling in the snow. We all freeze and I jam the scope to my eye, aiming towards the moving people.

“Joel! Ellie!” I nearly yell but remember myself and whisper it to the boys instead, pretty much running towards them. They see us and turn towards us, both of them leaning on the other. Ellie crashes into Benny and I lunge at Joel, throwing my arms around him and immediately jumping back when he cries out in pain.

“What happened? Where are you hurt?” I start pawing at his clothes. Joel gently takes my hand and guides it over his clothes to his abdomen.

“Here. Roughly stitched. Got infected but Ellie got me antibiotics.”

“I need to look at that wound asap. Are you ok to walk?”

He nods. “Yeah. We need to get away from here. Where are the horses?”

Will chimes in. “Had to send them off once we knew we were tracking people other than you two.”

“Damn. Would’ve been nice.”

I move to Ellie who leans into me, a quiet sob wracking her body. “Hey, sshhh it’s ok. Joel got you. We’re all here now. Ellie, I need you to tell me. Are you injured?”

She shakes her head and speaks into my shoulder. “Just a little. Nothing major.”

“You can walk?” She nods. I look at them all. “We have to move.”

—----

Somehow, we manage to get a few miles from the blaze without any issue, a small gas station our salvation. Once cleared, I guide Joel and Ellie into the back office, motioning for Joel to sit in the office chair and Ellie on the desk. She insists she’s fine, but I know that look. She does have some minor abrasions on her hands, some small bruises and cuts. The blood on her was not hers and I hope the fucker it belongs to died slowly and horribly. She’s quiet. Too quiet. As I wipe the last of the blood from her face, I cup her cheeks, getting her to look up at me.

“You’re ok. But some wounds can’t be seen with your eyes.” I lean in and hug her tight, whispering in her ear. “Please come talk to me when you’re ready.” She nods against my shoulder and pushes away, hopping down off the desk and heads into the main store to help Benny and Will. I look down at Joel. He looks exhausted, his face a little more pale than it should be.

“Take off your shirt, Mr. Miller.”

“I am a married man, miss,” He chuckles, sucking in a breath at the pain. He pulls up the edge of his jacket and shirt, exposing the wound that he had tried his best to cover. There’s dried blood around it, a little fresh bleeding from his exertion, but I can see the infection leaving his body.

I kneel to get a better look, lifting the makeshift bandage from his stomach. He hisses, but doesn’t move. “This wound is the only thing keeping me from bending you over this table,” Joel says just loud enough for me to hear.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, cowboy.”

“Just wait until I’m healed.”

—----

We wait in that gas station for a few weeks, letting Joel heal fully. His wound had been infected, but, thanks to Ellie’s intervention, the antibiotics had gotten to work right away, saving his life. Benny and Will kept Ellie busy, helping her to practice shooting, taking her hunting in the nearby woods to catch rabbits or a stray deer. She’s quieter though. Reserved. She told me nothing had actually happened but that something had almost happened before she killed the man. Good riddance to the man, but that does leave a mark on someone.

The day before we leave, Benny and Will take Ellie into the woods to inspect their traps and Joel makes good on his promise, pushing himself inside of me as I moan his name, his body pressed over mine, pinning me to the desk. It’s not long before I let go and he follows, the sounds of our moans filling the small office space.

—----

“Ok but wasn’t that giraffe cool as fuck?” Ellie smiles as she gestures back towards the dilapidated building where we had found an actual, living giraffe, living its best life. For some reason, the infection never spread to animals, which I’m grateful for. They seem to be fairing well for themselves. Better than most humans anyway.

But more than that, I’m grateful for the smile they put on Ellie’s face, her first true, whole face smile in weeks. Months? I lost track of time, worried about Joel and then worried about Ellie. The snows had melted, giving way to a beautiful spring. The air is still cool, but it doesn’t feel like snow will make a comeback. Spring is here to stay for a bit.

Ellie walks alongside Joel, the two of them sharing an old can of Chef Boyardee Joel had found in a busted up RV. My heart swells watching them. Their relationship has definitely deepend since the events at UEC. They’re closer, Joel looks at her like I imagine he looked at Sarah, and my heart breaks thinking about the teenage daughter I never met.

We’re getting closer to one of the hospitals in Salt Lake, hoping that the first one we picked on the map was the one where the Fireflies were. Still are. If they weren’t chased out or worse. We take a quick break, Ellie and Joel sitting on a crumbling cement barrier, sharing the last of the can of beef-a-roni. I start to walk over to join them when I hear Joel telling her about the scar on the side of his head and how he lost his hearing. Immediately, I turn back to Benny and Will, sandwiching myself between them. I know this story, and if Joel is telling it to Ellie…well I definitely don’t want to ruin that moment.

Benny nudges my shoulder with his. “You want some jerky?”

I blink, pulling myself back to the present and look at him. “Sure.”

He holds the open bag of jerky in his lap, between his legs, in a very suggestive spot and smirks, his eyebrows waggling. “All yours, sweetheart.”

I punch his shoulder, chuckling along with him, but still reach over and grab some jerky, making sure to lightly touch him as I drag my hand from the bag. I don’t miss the way a light flush blooms across his cheeks. Will puffs air from his mouth next to us. “Can’t take you guys anywhere.”

I turn to him, leaving Benny squirming in his seat. “What ever are you talking about? I was simply getting some food.” I lean in towards him, getting close to his face. “Why, do you have snacks in your pants I could get, Will?”

His ears heat up and he smirks. “Darlin’, you’re welcome to anything in my pants.”

Before I can reply, Joel clears his throat. “If y’all are done eye fuckin’ each other, let’s get moving.”

Ellie chuckles as we all stand up, gathering our things, and hoisting our packs on. We fall into a sort of grouping, picking our way across the rubbled streets of Salt Lake City, a once bustling hub of activity, now reduced to crumbling buildings and, apparently, wild giraffes.

“You know what I’m in the mood for?” Joel asks, looking at Ellie as we walk. She looks at him, eyebrows raised. “Shitty puns.”

Her face lights up, a smile spreading across it. “Say no more!” She slides her bag from around her back, rummaging around for a moment before pulling out her worn joke book. She flips through a few pages before she settles on one.

“People are making apocalypse jokes like there’s no tomorrow.”

Joel gives her an overly dramatic, disgusted look and tsks.

“Too soon?” Ellie asks, fighting back a smirk.

“No,” Joel replies. “It’s topical.”

Ellie chuckles, her eyes landing back on the book. “Oh I love this one! Moon rocks taste better than Earth rocks. Why?” She pauses, waiting to see if anyone would reply. “Cause they’re METEOR!”

We all laugh, Joel making a pained face. “That’s terrible.”

“Fuck you! That was actually good!” Ellie replies, hitting him in the shoulder with her book.

“That’s a zero outta ten.”

Ellie sighs. “Alright….ok, what did the green grape say to the purple grape?” Another pause. “Breathe, you idiot.” She watches Joel’s face expectantly, holding back her own excitement. Meanwhile, Joel is fighting for his life, trying not to smile, a small smirk breaking through his gruff attitude while Benny howls with laughter.

“That was a three outta ten.”

“What?” Ellie and Benny respond at the same time. “That was a seven, minimum!” Ellie continues.

Joel thinks. “I’ll give it a five.”

“Five??”

“Five outta ten.”

“Fuck you, five. That was a-”

The clear metallic sound of something hitting the ground behind us, rolling across the rock spattered cement brings our laughing to a screeching halt. We all turn and look down just in time for the thing to ignite, Joel leaping to cover Ellie and Benny over me. We all hit the ground, ears ringing like mad, smoke everywhere. I can’t focus, the ringing too loud. Too disorienting. I can hear Joel calling out for Ellie, can feel the weight of Benny on my back. But then suddenly he isn’t. Before I can look, something strikes the back of my head and everything goes blank.

—----

The sound of muffled yelling is what brings me back to reality. My vision is blurry at first, the room I’m in coming into focus the longer I blink. The voices get clearer too and I realize there’s a voice that’s not a Miller. Or Ellie. I shake my head a little and the voices click into place as I blink the last of the blurriness from my eyes.

“You take me to her. You take me to her RIGHT NOW!” Joel demands from a cot on the other side of the small exam room from me.

A sigh. “Joel, you know it has to be this way. Do you think I want Ellie to die?” That voice. I know that voice. I hadn’t heard it since I left the Fireflies. Marlene.

Wait did she say Ellie had to die?

I sit up, a little too fast and the room starts to spin as her and Joel continue to argue, saying something about them needing to operate on Ellie’s brain to get the infection out to make a cure. Which..honestly doesn’t entirely make sense. Even with my head spinning I know it doesn’t make sense. There’s no guarantee that a cure would work from that and then you’ve killed your only immune person? I press my hand to my head as Marlene walks from the room, telling the other Firefly soldiers to walk us to the highway to meet our companions, presumably Benny and Will, and only then give us our packs and a knife. I hear them grab Joel and move him to the door, gruff hands yanking me up from the bed and my feet slide a little on the tile floor.

“Hey! Don’t touch her!” Joel gruffly commands, his hand reaching for mine. His fingers barely brush mine before the soldier prods him in the back with the barrel of his rifle. “None of that. Keep moving.”

Joel looks at me and I nod, my head finally clearing at the severity of this situation. They push him forward towards a stairwell, Joel pausing for a brief moment to look at a floor map on the wall. As we’re shoved into the stairwell, I watch Joel’s broad back, the changes in it as he makes up his mind. I know what he’s going to do from the moment he looked at that map. We go down a couple of flights of stairs before he pauses, mid way down the next grouping of them.

“Hey! Who told you to stop?” The soldier behind Joel places his hand on his shoulder to push him forward and Joel makes his move. He grips the soldiers wrist and spins, knocking him out with a couple of well placed punches, quickly grabbing his gun. While he moves, so do I, throwing my head back and ramming it into the man behind me, catching him off guard. I duck as Joel rams the butt end of the rifle into the man’s head, knocking him out. As the men moan on the floor, Joel looks at me. His eyes are dark, his intention set. No one will stand in his way to get to Ellie. I nod at him, bending down to pick up the second gun.

“I’ll follow your lead,” I quietly say to him, checking the mag and loading a round into the chamber. He studies me for one quick moment, then nods his confirmation.

“Stay behind me.”

“Understood.”

We move through the hospital in a violent dance. I barely do anything except watch his back. Joel moves with a sole purpose, taking out everyone who poses a threat, even a few people who put down their guns, who most likely would’ve taken them back up when we passed them. The way he moves with precision is beautiful, his muscles shifting with every move, the veins in his arms bulging as he reloads a newly acquired rifle, stepping over the body of a soldier he’d just taken out. It’s horrifyingly beautiful and I can see why Joel has the reputation that he does.

Finally, we arrive in pediatric surgery, the lights glaring out from one of the operating rooms. Joel pulls back the slide on his handgun and quietly pushes open the door, aiming the gun into the room. The nurses all scream, stepping back, but the doctor just turns and looks at Joel, a mixture of confusion, arrogance, and fear in his eyes.

“Unhook her,” Joel quietly demands.

The doctor replies. “No! What are you doing? You need to leave my or now!”

Joel fires a warning shot into the air, the nurses screams echoing through the small room. “Unhook her.”

The doctor, now frantic, reaches to the side and grabs a tool off a tray, like a small blade. A scalpel. “No! I won’t let you take her!”

Joel fires a single shot and blood spurts from the doctor’s forehead as his body crumbles to the ground. The nurses scream again, huddling together as if that would save them. Joel turns the gun on them but doesn’t fire.

“Unhook her.” They don’t move, their hands trembling. “Now!”

One nurse moves forward and unhooks Ellie from the machines. She quickly steps back, giving Joel as much room as she’s physically able as he steps forward, gently scooping Ellie into his arms. She’s so small, her eyes still closed from the anesthesia, resting against Joel’s bicep. He turns and strides from the room and I follow, not looking back at the nurses.

The halls are quiet now, Joel having taken out any soldiers that were running at us. But that doesn’t mean we’re alone. Our guards still up, Joel stops to punch the elevator button, shifting Ellie up a little to get a better grip. Once we’re inside the elevator and the doors close behind us, Joel reaches over to press the garage button. The elevator lurches and starts its descent.

“Do you need me to take her?” I ask quietly. I know his bones have to be aching. His face hardens, resolute as he shakes his head.

“No. I got her.” We’re quiet for a moment as we watch the floor numbers tick down. “We’re going to leave. If there’s a car, we’ll take it. Find Will and Benny on the highway and head back to Jackson.”

I nod. “Sounds good.”

The doors open and I stride out first, gun raised, my head on a swivel. I see nothing and we start forward, Joel tapping my arm with Ellie’s bare foot and nodding towards a truck that has the hood open, a battery attached to it charging. We head for it, but then Marlene steps from the shadows, her gun pointed straight at Joel.

“I can’t let you leave with her, Joel.”

“You can. You can let us go.”

Marlene shakes her head. “She can change all of this. You can..we can forget all of what you just did, if you give her to me.”

Joel looks down at Ellie, then back up at Marlene. “You’ll never stop looking for us.”

“No. Wait, Joel-”

BOOM!

A single shot rings out from the gun Joel had in his hand, concealed by Ellie’s hospital gown. Marlene flies back, her abdomen spurting blood as Joel steps around her, gently laying Ellie down in the back row of the truck. Marlene reaches up towards me.

“You…you have to stop him, Ghost. She’s the answer.”

Before I can answer, Joel is back by my side, raises his gun, and Marlene becomes forever silent. Quietly, we get in the truck and drive out of the garage, making our way out of the city to the highway that moves around it, hoping that we’ll easily find Benny and Will. I reach over and grab Joel’s hand resting on his leg, giving it a small squeeze. He glances over at me, worry etched in his features for the first time.

“I…I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t…you shouldn’t have had to see that.”

I squeeze his hand harder. “You did what you had to do to protect your family. They would’ve killed her. Killed us. And it honestly doesn’t make any sense. For them to just kill Ellie from the start- wait. I see them!” I point out the window to 2 figures walking down the side of the road. They turn and Benny throws his hands in the air, his mouth forming a “whoop!”. I hop out and move to the back, giving one of them the seat with more leg room as I place Ellie’s head on my lap. As we drive back to Jackson, we fill them in on what happened. Will isn’t happy about it, but understands. Benny simply says “Fuck those assholes.”

We stash the truck and walk the last several miles to Jackson, grateful we didn’t have another couple of months work of walking. Benny, Will, and I make it down the side of the hill several feet before we realize that Ellie and Joel aren’t with us. We wait for a moment and they come over the edge, Ellie retreating back into her mind as Joel looks on, worried. He’d asked all of us to not say anything to Ellie about what happened. He’d told her raiders had come and it was all we could do to get her out in time. I don’t think she buys it, but I follow Joel’s lead. A pit grows in my stomach, like this will come back to haunt us. But for now, I’m choosing to look forward. Especially when the gates swing open and Tommy runs to greet us, sweeping me up into his arms as he holds me close.

—----

5 years later…

“Do you both have to go so early?” I complain as I lay sandwiched between Joel and Tommy, who had joined our..family within a year of us returning from Salt Lake. Tommy presses himself against me from behind, growing harder every time he grinds his hips against my ass, his hand making its way between my thighs. Joel faces me and grips my chin gently, staring into my eyes.

“Sorry, angel. Tommy agreed to switch so Ellie could sleep in after last night.” He glances up behind me, giving a quick nod to Tommy, who’s hand gently pushes my back forward slightly, angling my hips up. He slowly pushes into me and my lips part, a small gasp coming from me as he stretches me. As Tommy starts to rut into me, his thumb teasing my clit, Joel’s grip on my chin doesn’t loosen, his silent demand that I keep my eyes on him. His other hand reaches out and gently pinches one of my nipples just as Tommy hits a spot inside me and I cry out, my orgasm flowing through me as Tommy reaches his, biting my shoulder as he comes. He soothes the bite with a kiss, as Joel brings his lips to mine, kissing me softly. Tommy pulls out and I whimper into Joel’s mouth. Tommy disappears for a moment before tossing a wet rag at Joel, who rips himself away from me to yelp, cursing at Tommy as his chest glistens with the water from the wet rag. I chuckle, swiping at the water with my bare hand, like that would do anything. I just wanted to touch his chest.

Tommy closes the bathroom door behind him, the shower turning on. Joel focuses his attention back on me, cupping my cheek, rubbing his thumb across it before lightly kissing me. “Roll over and spread your legs.”

My entire body heats up and I nod furiously, quickly rolling onto my back, spreading my legs as wide as I can while Joel watches me, his eyes raking down my body. He kneels on the bed, rag in hand, and dabs at my sensitive pussy, gently cleaning his brother off me. He presses one of his large fingers inside me and I squirm as he cleans me out, wiping his hand on the rag when he’s done. Without saying a word, he lowers his mouth to me, dragging his tongue up the center of me and I gasp his name, my hands flying to his head, fingers tangling in his greying curls. He continues to torture me, bringing me to the edge and then pulling back, his nose gliding up my center.

“Please, Joel,” I beg, my body wound up and desperate.

He gently kisses my pussy and I whine, bucking my hips into his face. He chuckles, a quick, light lick to my clit before backing off again and I huff, opening my mouth to tell him off. Or something. I can’t remember because Joel dives back in, coming at me like he can’t hold back any longer and a handful of seconds later I cum, fingers digging into his head as I hold him there, his name a chant on my lips. As I start to come down, Joel pulls away, crawling up my body, pinning my wrists on either side of my head. His eyes stare down at mine, nearly black with lust.

“I’m gonna fuck you into this bed and you’re gonna take it. Got it?”

I nod. “Yes. Yes, I’ll take whatever you can-” Joel pushes into me with force and I cry out, wrapping my legs around him as he loses himself in me, having edged himself too. He cums a few moments later, his forehead dropping to my chest as we both breathe deeply, trying to catch our breaths. He drags his eyes up to mine, happy and content.

“Hopefully that makes up for the early hour.”

I chuckle. “I hope you’re getting up early tomorrow too.”

—----

“I think I missed my morning patrol time?” Ellie says as she walks up to me at the main gate, horse reins in hand.

I shake my head. “Nah. Tommy swapped with Joel so you could sleep in after…after the New Years Party last night.”

“Oh. Right. That was..nice.”

I smile at Ellie. Joel and her had been going through something lately and neither of them would explain it. Maybe they couldn’t. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah. We..talked last night. I’m going to come to movie night tonight.”

“Oh thank God. I’ve been outnumbered by boys for so long.”

Ellie laughs. “Sorry about that.”

I squeeze her arm. “Don’t worry about it. I know you’ve been going through something and sometimes you just need your own space. You know I’m always here to talk, right?”

She nods, adjusting her saddle. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Will and Benny walk up, coming from the guard post on the wall. They each press a kiss to my lips, while Benny reaches out to ruffle Ellie’s hair. She dodges, swearing at him and they play wrestle for a moment, Benny giving up when she pokes him in his only ticklish spot. Will helps me up onto my horse and I lean down to kiss him again.

“Be careful, darlin’. We think that storm might come in. If you need to take shelter, just radio in as best you can and hunker down.”

“Of course. Love you.”

Benny helps Ellie onto her horse and she punches him on the shoulder. “Ouch.”

“Plenty more where that came from.”

Benny rubs at his shoulder, smirking before turning to me. “Should’ve never taught her how to fight.” I lean down and kiss him, his large hand cupping my cheek as he holds me there for a moment, pulling back just enough for me to see his bright blue eyes. “Be careful, sweetheart. Don’t take any chances if that storm rolls in quick.”

“I promise. Stay safe. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

—----

“I’m so glad Jesse showed you this place,” I say as I take another cookie from Ellie’s outstretched hand. She’s smiling, for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Yeah, me too. Great place to wait out a storm like that one coming at us.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the special plants and snacks stored here?” I raise my eyebrows, smirking.

Ellie puts her hand on her chest, looking fake shocked. “What are you saying?”

Static scratches out from the walkie. “Ghost? Ellie? You there?”

I pick it up, pressing the button. “Yeah we’re bunkered down. Everything ok in Jackson?”

The operator, Allie, answers. “We’re fine but have you heard from Joel and Tommy recently?”

Ellie and I sit up. “No. Have you?”

“Not since they started route. They’re not answering.”

Ellie and I look at each other, fear and worry coursing through my veins. “Roger that. We’ll go look for them.”

“I don’t think that’s-” I click off the walkie and look up at Ellie, my own worry echoed in her features.

“Let’s go find them,” She says, quickly gathering up her pack and heading for the door, zipping up coats as she walks. We make it outside, the wind already blowing, our horses complaining about going back in it. I grab Ellie’s arm and she looks at me.

“We should split up. Stay on channel 4, ok?” I hold up my walkie and she clicks hers to channel 4, holding it up to confirm. She turns to get on Shimmer, her horse, but I grab her arm again.

“What?”

“Just…be careful. Don’t forget to radio me if you find anything.”

“Yeah. Of course. You too.”

We hop on our horses and take off in opposite directions, both of us terrified at what we might find. Best case scenario, their walkies are dead or the storm has blocked the signal and they’re tucked away somewhere safe. Worst case…I’m not thinking about that.

I ride for about half an hour when a sudden lurch in my stomach has me pulling on the reins to stop my horse. Anxiety and panic flood my system. I look around, not seeing anything, but I can’t shake this feeling. I ride for another couple of minutes, thinking about what structures would be near enough to their route-

The resort.

I turn my horse and spur him on, riding into the wind and snow as the blizzard creeps towards us. It’s so hard to see in this, and the rushing sound in my head doesn’t help. They’re at the resort. They’re tucked in all safe. Nothing is wrong. But the closer I get to the resort, the more the panic rises, making me gasp for breath a few times. I finally break through the line of trees and see the resort…and a couple of horses outside it. I hop off mine and take out my gun, checking it before quietly moving to the door. I try the handle and it turns easy, allowing me to slip inside. The roaring of the wind is muted, my ears and eyes taking a quick moment to adjust. But then I hear the sounds coming from upstairs. Thuds and- no. No!

Joel’s grunts and cries of anguish are loud in my ears, each one coming after a painful sound blow. For a brief moment, I have to choke back the simultaneous urge to vomit and to run towards him, hell bent on putting myself between him and whatever was making him make those sounds.

“No! Please stop!”

Ellie. Begging and crying. She’s not alone. Another voice, female, scoffs.

“Do you think he waited? When he killed everyone in that hospital? They were just there to find a cure. And then he came in and bam! Dead.”

I move through the hall and up the stairs like a ghost, the reason I earned my nickname. I reach the top of the stairs, a door standing ajar in front of me, Joel’s grunts sounding weaker despite me being closer. I swallow hard, bracing myself for whatever is behind the door. No one else is in the hallway, so I move up to the cracked doorway and peer inside. Tommy lies crumbled in a heap on the other side of the room, two young women standing over him. He’s breathing, so he must be knocked out. The men in front of me are holding Ellie to the ground, her arm pinned painfully behind her back before he kicks her in the ribs, telling her to be quiet. Rage fills me, but my eyes drag up and to the center of the room, where another young woman stands over a bloody pile of rags, kicking it again and again. I focus on the rags for a moment before I realize what exactly I’m looking at, the blood in my veins freezing in fear, but also burning with rage.

Joel. Not rags. Joel. Beaten so badly that I could hardly recognize him.

My brain clicks, all expression sliding off of my face as I slowly stand, taking my knife from my pocket. My blades quietly slices into the one man with his foot on Ellie’s back and before he realizes he’s dead, I’ve sliced into the other man, his blood gushing down his side. Ellie doesn’t move. I raise my gun just as one of the 2 women look up and see me, horror on their faces.

“Wait-”

I hit my first target in between her eyes, her body crumbling to the floor. The other girl raises her hands but she meets the same fate as her friend, their bodies lifeless and staring blankly ahead. I turn to face the woman standing over Joel’s bloody body, a broken golf club in her hands. She looks at me, her rage fueled by my apparent indifference to it. I aim my gun at her, gently pulling the trigger and…it jams. She glances down at Joel and back at me before she raises the golf club, aiming it at the back of Joel’s neck.

I yell, a primal, guttural scream, as I drop the gun and lunge at this person, tackling her to the ground before she could do anything. She struggles against me, yelling back and we roll for a couple times before I’m on top, pinning her arms beneath my knees. My hands wrap around her throat as she chokes and sputters, her body jerking as I watch the life start to fade from her eyes. But then I let go and she gasps for air, choking as she breathes rapidly and deeply. Once she’s caught her breath, I wrap my hands around her throat again, watching with a blank expression as she tries to fight for her life. I bring her back 3 more times, each time she gets weaker, her sputters less and less. I want to watch the life leave her eyes for what she’s done, watch her die here and now knowing that all of her companions, her friends, are dead because of what she’s done to my husband.

“Joel!” Ellie cries out from across the room, still barely able to move. I blink, coming out of my rage vengeance and simply watch as the girl under my hands chokes, sputtering, her limbs fighting back less and less. I watch as the light leaves her eyes, the last thing she sees is me. I release her, swinging my legs off her body before I come to, the rage leaving me the second I lay eyes on him.

“Joel?” He’s on his stomach, his bloody cheek pressed against the hard ground, his eye bruised and puffy, gashes and scrapes bleeding and puffing up not just on his face, but across his body. His leg has a homemade tourniquet above what I’m assuming is a gunshot wound. His shirt is torn in several places across his back, revealing deep puncture wounds, a small stream of blood spreading out onto the floor.

“Joel?” I don’t know what to do. My hands hover around various parts of his body, but I'm afraid to touch him. I don’t know where to start, what the worst injury is. I’m trained for medical, but this is…

Tears well in my eyes and I try to fight them back. “Joel, baby?” I put my face in front of his, pressing my hand to his bloodied one. “Joel, it’s me. It’s Ghost. I’m here. You’re safe. Ellie’s safe. So is Tommy. I got them all, I just need you to-” my voice cracks, the tears no longer able to be held as his tired and pained expression meets mine.”

“Joel, please hold on. Let me look at you.” I throw my walkie at Ellie before returning my attention to Joel. “Look at me. Joel, you do not have my permission to die. Do you hear me? You c-can’t. Y-you can’t leave me, Joel. Please,” I beg, tears streaming down my face. He opens his mouth, gasping for air as he coughs out blood.

“Joel? No, NO you can’t! Please, please-” my entire world goes black.

—----

“You take me to her right now!”

Joel’s voice rips me from my unconscious state. Where am I? My head spins, slowly coming back into focus. Joel? He’s alive? I blink, my vision clearing, and realize I’m back in the hospital room. In Salt Lake. What the fuck just happened?

“Joel, you know it has to be this way,” Marlene says in a poor attempt to console him.

No, no this isn’t right. Didn’t that girl who was beating Joel say her dad was here? He was the doctor? I know what happens if we go down this path. I've seen it.

“I don’t have another choice, Joel.”

“I do,” Joel says threateningly.

“Wait!” I sit up a little too fast, holding the side of my head while the room stops spinning. “Marlene, wait!”

She turns to look at me, but her body remains fully focused on Joel. She’s right to mistrust him. “I really have no choice, Ghost.”

“Marlene, you knew me. Know me. I’ve learned a lot, especially since leaving the Fireflies. You know I was studying not just sniper but medical. Healing. I learned…a lot. And let me tell you…I don’t think they need to kill Ellie.”

She turns her head fully to me now, the other soldier in the room tightening his grip on his gun. “What?”

“Think about it. This..doctor… wants to cut open her brain, right?”

She nods. “To get the cordyceps out.”

I shrug. “Yeah, but there’s no guarantee that it will work. I mean, she’s probably more than likely actually infected, not immune, and we don’t know what in her stopped the cordyceps from taking hold. Could it be something in her brain? Sure. But it could also be in her dna, or a myriad of other things.”

Marlene watches me for a few long moments. “What’s your point?”

I puff out some air. “Look. Everyone is wanting a cure, right? A preventative? But what sense does killing your only immune person make? Wouldn’t you want to make absolutely 100% sure it has to come from her brain before you kill her and then oops it doesn’t work? She’s your only immune person…right?”

Marlene takes longer than I like to answer. “She’s the only one we have now…but I’m not a doctor. Let’s go ask him.”

She jerks her head towards her soldier and addresses Joel. “Absolutely no funny business or they will kill you and her,” she points to me. Rude. “Got it?”

Joel nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

We quickly head up a couple flights of stairs to the pediatric surgery ward, where all of the lights are off except for one room. I’ve been here before, in..whatever I experienced a moment ago. Panic soars through me as images of Joel’s bloody and beaten body flash before my eyes. I pause for a moment and feel Joel’s large hand at my lower back.

“You ok, angel?”

“Mm no. But ask me later, ok?”

“O…k…”

Marlene pushes into the surgery room where a male doctor and 3 nurses stand over Ellie’s body as they do final preparations for surgery.

“What is this, Marelene? Get them out of here!”

She holds a hand up. “Not yet, Jerry. Just wait. You too.” She speaks to the nurses, who back off Ellie.

The doctor, Jerry, looks pissed. “We only have a short amount of time. I won’t let you-”

“Are you certain you need to cut into her brain to make the cure?”

He looks shocked, even behind his face mask. “Well, yes.”

Fuck this guy. “How certain?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

He looks over at me, his eyes raking my body up and down, assessing me. “Who are you?”

“That doesn’t matter. Answer my question.”

“You wouldn’t understand. You would’ve been what, 5? When the outbreak happened?” He scoffs and I resist the urge to punch him.

“8, actually. But yet somehow I know more than you?”

He crosses his arms, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. Why am I talking to her?”

Marlene speaks before I can. “Because that girl? I know her. She’s studied healing and medicine under some of the best people in this shitty world. She’s also the best shot I’ve ever seen and you have someone she cares about strapped to your table, so yeah. I’d answer her question.”

Jerry looks between us both, finally sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know…maybe like 65%?”

She doesn’t show it, but I know Marelene is shocked, her body language shifting slightly. Joel tenses beside me and I reach out to squeeze his hand.

“Only 65%? You promised me a cure.”

Jerry gestures around. “Yeah well, I had to get her here. I have to look at her brain and then I can tell you better.”

“But how do you know her supposed cure doesn’t lie in her blood? Her dna?”

He looks back at me. “What do you mean supposed?”

“Assuming she’s immune and not infected.”

He watches me for a few long moments. “I…hadn’t considered that possibility.”

I point at Ellie. “You have no idea if she’s immune or just infected and her body has somehow prevented it from taking hold. Could it be in her brain? Sure. But it could also be in her blood. Or anything else.”

Jerry crosses his arms, cocking his head to the side. “You’re right. Unfortunately, it would be too difficult to know.”

“Why?”

Jerry gestures to the room. “Look around. We barely had enough power for this room, let alone a whole lab to do testing. We simply wouldn’t be able to accommodate that. Not without more power.”

Joel speaks up. “You know where there’s more.” Not a question.

Jerry nods. “Yeah. Marelene knows the specifics, but Gracepoint Hospital, on the other side of the city, has a ton of solar panels that would hook into the power grid for this hospital.”

Joel nods. “What’s the catch?”

Marlene and Jerry exchange a look. “It’s never been cleared. There’s a lot of infected in that area. We never took the risk.”

Joel nods, biting the inside of his cheek. “And I’m assuming these are the only ones?”

Marlene nods. “The only ones we know where they are and that they’ll work.”

Joel glances down at me and I nod. “Alright. Bring us my brothers and we’ll get your solar panels. But you have to promise that you will not place 1 cut on her body.” He steps forward towards Marlene and Jerry, his voice dropping. “Or I will hunt you until the ends of this earth and personally remove you from it. Agreed?”

Jerry swallows hard, glancing at Marlene, who also realizes the weight of Joel’s words. He is absolutely serious. They both stick their hands out and shake Joel’s and mine. “Agreed.”

Joel nods once. “Alright then. Marlene, bring my brothers to the lobby, And get a map to show us where this hospital is.”

Marlene moves to speak to her soldiers, sending a couple of them towards the highway where they’d already brought Will and Benny. Joel takes my hand again and pulls me out of the surgery, one last look at Ellie before he rounds the corner and brings me into another empty room. He closes the door and turns to me, clicking on a flashlight and setting it upside down on a table to illuminate a tiny space.

“Alright, angel. I need your head in the game if we’re doing this. What’s wrong?”

I open my mouth to speak, but instead, tears fall freely from my eyes, my chest heaving as I sob. Joel pulls me to his chest, holding me tight as he cradles the back of my head, whispering to me as I cry. I pull back enough to look up at him, my hands lightly tracing his face, his beautiful face. Every scar, every line, all of it. All of him. I cup his face and pull him to me, kissing him gently before he pulls back, his eyebrows pulled together in worry.

“Are you ok, angel? What happened?”

So, I tell him. How I had woken in that bed and watched Joel kill nearly everyone here because they were going to kill Ellie. How I never spoke up and didn’t think twice about it. Our life over the span of 5 years in Jackson. How the group of young people came and beat him, how his face looked, and how I didn’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if he survived. Then I woke here, a chance to do it again, which is why I spoke up.

His eyes water and he pulls me to him again. “Oh angel. I’m so sorry. But that wasn’t real. I’m here. We’re here, together. It’s ok. I’m not going anywhere.”

I sob again for another few minutes, trying to let go of the lingering images of his blood covered body. Then I pull back, wipe my eyes, take a deep breath, and let it out, stretching my limbs before looking back at Joel, determination in my features.

“Let’s go get those solar panels and help save the fucking world.”

—----

>>Chapter 16>>

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lol-jackles · 1 month ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/ienjoybeingahater/777733368614895616/dean-winchester-is-the-open-wound-in-the-body-that

Hi there. I hope you’re well.

When you have a minute, I’d love to see your thoughts on the post linked abive. I agree to an extent, especially about writers stealing Sam story lines and giving them to Dean. They use the example of Jack and the writers trying to force a bond between him and Dean, when Sam was obviously his parental figure. Though, I think Jack, as characterized, always saw Sam as his main parental figure. I’d also argue that they cut Sam's much deserved anger short in Season 9, so Dean could have a strop for a season and a half because he was pouting over the fact that Sam didn’t instantly forgive him for violating him with the Angel situation.

Anyway, I just wonder how much you agree with their point that Dean became central focus of SPN.

Dean definitely gut more screen time, but I still think Sam more often had the plot focus, only the late seasons did a shitty job of fleshing them out enough, like Sam being a leader vs a follower with the BMOL in Season 12.

Anyway, thanks for any thoughts you decide to share on this.

Link. Oh boy. I will start with that ienjoybeingahate is not wrong, but not for reasons they or you may think.

The OP appears to treat Dean as a co-lead protagonist or a deuteragonist, had he been one then yes his character arc would have been beyond frustrating. But he's not, he's a support protagonist because less than half of the stories revolve around him, more like 20%. Dean does not have important stories separate to Sam’s, nor does he have his own supporting cast; most of Dean’s interaction with Cas and other supporting characters are not about him but rather about his reaction to their stories because the role of the support protagonist is not only to support the lead, but also support the side characters.

Yeah, Dean is unfair towards Sam but 1) that’s what brothers do, and most importantly 2) that’s what happens to main characters, they constantly get shitted on. One of the biggest reliefs in real life is realizing you’re not the main character. In The X Files, Mulder was called a loser even by the freaks and rarely given grace. Xena was constantly reminded of the sins of her past in Warrior Princess.

OP's biggest gripe is that Dean doesn't change, and I admit I've on occasion complained about Dean’s defeatist attitude, a plot device that can get tiresome since season 5. Still, it was a plot device that usually works as part of Sam’s Hero Journey arc. For example, from Sam’s point of view, Dean’s endless self-inflicted apathy is part of the long list of crappy-things-to-do-to-Sam. In episode 13x05, Dean temporarily killing himself so he can go into the dead zone to find the bodies and free the souls, while a good idea (I guess???), was still a very crappy-thing-to-do-to-Sam as there was no discussion, just “here’s a needle give me five minutes being dead okay see you later.” It’s been ongoing since season 2, so I don’t blame Sam in season 14 for thinking the Mal'ex magic box business is just the latest in a long string of events of Dean causing himself harm and then giving up at the first inconvenience. Sam’s angry speech in episode 14x11 “Damaged Goods” was not only about Dean cutting Sam out of his plan with no discussion but also for giving up by using blind faith in fate as an excuse (“since when do we believe in fate?”). Sam’s speech in episode 14x12 “Prophet and Loss” recounts their long history of defying fate and surviving literal and figurative hell because they had faith in themselves. Dean is forgiven for forgetting this lesson every season because the plot device kicks in just in time to give us some of Jared’s finest acting of Sam’s decade-long frustrations with Dean’s obstinance, causing him to breakdown and ask, “why don’t you believe in us?”, like a child asking why adults do stupid things when the adults should know better.

Dean’s defeatist attitude is part of the determinism (Dean) vs free will (Sam) philosophy that ran through the series by Sam confronting and challenging the authority figures in his life: John Winchester, Dean Winchester, Lucifer, and then God. They all wanted Sam to be something he didn’t want to be - John’s solider, Dean’s companion, Lucifer’s vessel, and Chuck’s story. Eventually, Sam acquiesced to their demands but on his own terms, he became a hunter to leave a legacy, became Dean’s partner to save him, became Lucifer’s vessel to save the world, became Chuck’s story to defeat him and bring free will into the world through Jack, a Nephilim he essentially raised and influenced. New God Jack’s perception of humanity is distilled down to, “When people have to be their best, they can be.” Looking at Sam, Jack promised a hands-off approach but also people don’t need to pray or sacrifice to Him. Sam has tears in his eyes, he is after all losing a son. But what Sam gained is his faith in himself. his trust in people and the greater good often gets thrown into his face, but Jack becomes the kinder, gentler God whose message is to trust in themselves, for that is where God resides.

Speaking of Jack, the Dean and Jack subplot happened because the writers were building up their relationship for the sole purpose of tearing it down when Jack accidentally kills Mary. The problem was their relationship wasn’t developed organically because the writers needed a plot device. The writers can’t have Sam and Jack having a falling out, so it had to be Dean and Jack. As I mentioned earlier, OP is not wrong but not for reasons they may think. Writers didn't "cater" toward Dean because of his fans, but because they were after their own residuals. Writers create new side characters and get residuals everytime their character appears in an episode. The easiest way for writers to give their characters more screentime is to have them interact with Dean because he’s the go-to character to support the supporting character. Helped that Dean is consistently written inconsistently, so Dean can be anything the writers want him to be when he supports their own character. Writers don't want their creations to interact with Sam because as the main character, it is the job of side characters to support Sam’s story. Once the support character’s job of revealing a side of Sam is done, they are usually killed off and there goes the writer's residuals.

Dean did not "destroy" Castiel by becoming an accessory to Dean on behalf of the Destiel shippers. Castiel was "destroyed" because he outlived his purpose after season 6 and Misha couldn't find a better job. Season 6 was Castiel’s best season in terms of character development because it made sense from his arcs in season 4 and 5. Castiel as a villain actually makes sense because angels are lawful-evil assholes and despite Cas’s best attempts he can’t escape his nature, which is the point of Dean’s arguments about monsters. From season 7 onward, Cas became a plot-driven character instead of a character driving the plot. Stories shouldn’t move the characters like lifeless game pieces. It’s the characters that should move the story forward. The characters’ choices should impact the story and not be inconsequential. (My unpopular theories here and here and here and a short version here on why Misha was initially hired as a regular for season 5 & 6 and rehired again as a regular for season 9-11.)

OP's "From the very beginning, Sam had potential, potential for something beyond hunting, beyond the endless cycle of death and violence that consumed their lives. He had dreams, ambitions, and a future that should have been his"

Did OP not see the series finale "Carry On"? Sam left hunting and its endless cycle of death and violence and accomplish his primary goal that had kept him driven and move the story forward, attaining normal life. It was never about eradicating monsters to extinction or avenging his mother’s death. Sure, Sam is very good at hunting and even became a leader, but they always made sure to show that Sam doesn’t have passion for the family business other than saving people’s lives. Claire Novak shows way more enthusiasm for the job.

OP's inability or refusal to see Sam as the main character may be colored by mistaking the character with the most POV as the main character. But as any Dean stans will tell you, Dean's POV means squat because Dean isn’t being talked about by other characters. Dean and his POV mainly revolve around Sam. To quote a casual observer I found on tumblr: Sam gets the larger story arcs in the show and Dean gets more of the “silly and fun” filler episodes.

Sam is dynamic character who went from a college student naive about the supernatural world, to becoming a skilled and effective hunter and then a leader and later a father figure to a future God, and finally a father with a family of his own. Dean was essentially the same character from start to finish but that’s fine for a support-protagonist, in fact it was essential for the show’s formula. Yes Dean is a supercool character because the jerk-with-heart-of-gold is practically a fail safe archtype.

"I’d also argue that they cut Sam's much deserved anger short in Season 9, so Dean could have a strop for a season and a half because he was pouting over the fact that Sam didn’t instantly forgive him for violating him with the Angel situation."

I semi-agree that Sam's anger was cut short. First, remember that Dean isn’t going to learn the same lesson each season, which was why he made Sam’s anger over the Gadreel possession about his (Dean) own issue and left Sam alone (with Cas in the bunker) to hunt down Gadreel… only to run into Cain got the Mark to, huh, kill Abaddon instead for some reason. That "reason" was Jensen's years long campaign for a Dean-centric storyline, which he got for season 10. That means the last half of season 9 was rewritten to set up Dean's "rare" storyline (Jensen's quote here ). I explained here why season 10 didn't work, the jist is because Supernatural was not set up to have Dean as the main character.

Back to Sam's anger, he told Dean the unvarnished truth: Dean didn’t want to be alone. This gets brought up again by Billie in season 11’s “Red Meat”, and in season 13’,’s “Advanced Thanatology” when Dean tells Billie that he’s dragging down Sam. Dean does have self-awareness but he can't live a life without Sam, so Sam has to give up just about everything so that Dean wouldn't be alone. In season 8, Dean gave his blessing and permission for Sam to return to the ordinary life he always wanted for himself but, you know, only after he (Dean) dies. Which is what Sam did in "Carry On".

In the end it was okay that Dean's character growth was minimal because he’s Han Solo, the comfort food of the series. We don’t want mac & cheese to change. Dean is the awesome sauce but not the main course, which I explained in the “Support Protagonist” tag.

July 2015 Comic Con:

Interviewer: Let’s talk about growth in Dean’s character. Jensen: Or lack of growth?

Link.

#sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural

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