#but now it seems like they might get here like.. a day before they get back lksdjdslkjd

[apollabarnes]

transfers are(n't) for kids

it was hard to stop a train once it got started. buck still wasn't sure he wanted to. 8x18 coda. canon compliant? pardon the terrible trix joke, it amused me.

"Han!" The bellow shook the station. "Get your scrawny ass down here right now."

Chimney put his coffee cup down slowly, dusting off his pants. "'Scuse me, everybody," he said calmly. "I heard my name."

Hen snorted into her drink. "Bakersfield heard your name," she said, abandoning the table and heading for the railing. "This should be good."

Buck hesitated for a beat longer than everyone else, only moving when Ravi knocked his hand against Buck's shoulder. He hovered a step behind Ravi, worried that if he got too close to the front the two of them would notice him and the argument would escalate.

"So," the enormous man on the apparatus floor said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You want to explain why, on the day my new transfer's supposed to be starting, I get a call from the Chief saying whoopsie?"

"I was short a guy, turns out. Buck agreed to cancel the transfer," Chim said easily, tipping his chin up and meeting the other man's stare.

Ravi turned to Buck, his eyebrows jumping up. "That's you," he mouthed, pointing at the showdown. Buck elbowed Ravi cautiously, grinning when he shoved back at him.

"Bullshit, Howie. We both know you're not good at keeping yourself on the sidelines. And I'm down two guys — or gals, Wilson — so you can get yourself to the back of the line."

"Today was supposed to be your last day?" Ravi whispered, not looking away from the floor.

Buck shrugged. When Chim had asked for, and gotten, the captaincy it just seemed easier to give him time to grow into the role without having to train someone new at the same time. Besides, if the station was just a number now, it wasn't like going somewhere else was going to mean he'd be somewhere more like Bobby's station. At least here he had Ravi to partner up with.

"Who's that?" Buck asked Ravi, leaning in close. He hadn't paid much attention, or asked too many questions, when he'd handed in his transfer paperwork. The Chief had told him he'd send the assignment along when it was figured out, but then Buck had pulled his name from consideration and… well, it hadn't mattered then.

"Deluca, 122. You really don't do the whole firehouse gossip thing, do you?" Ravi asked him, amused.

"I mean the fun stuff, sure. Rodriguez over at the 126 ended up going to a furry convention by 'accident'," Buck told Ravi, waggling his eyebrows.

"He used to work with Chimney and Hen back in the day," Ravi continued, making a face at him.

"Huh." Buck inched closer to the railing, peering over it. Deluca wasn't menacing Chim, exactly, but he did have enough height on him that there was some looming going on. He might even have a little height on Buck. "He looks… tall."

"Chim's compact," Hen said easily, knocking her arm against Buck's gently. "But he's scrappy. He's got this."

Deluca lowered his voice and kept going, gesticulating wildly at Chim's equally quiet response. Buck found himself wishing they were still bellowing. He couldn't help but feel a little invested in what appeared to be a fight over himself. He wasn't sure who he wanted to win.

"Do not make me arm wrestle—" Deluca's voice rose, amused, before dipping low again.

"Don't do it, Chim!" Hen hollered.

Sal and Chimney both glanced up at that, seemingly realizing that everyone on shift was paying rapt attention to what was going on. Buck was pretty sure the only thing that would break their concentration was the bell or a knock down drag out argument in the loft. He found himself glancing over at Eddie, sighing when he kept his eyes focused forwards.

"That doesn't seem very ride or die," Ravi said smugly, shuffling closer to Buck. He knocked their shoulders together and Buck grinned tiredly at him.

"Sal held the station record for almost a decade," Hen shot back. "It's very ride or die to make sure Chim doesn't embarrass himself."

Chimney stepped towards Sal, making him take a step back. Buck held his breath, looking between them as they kept talking, volleying back and forth. "Does this feel like a tennis game to anyone else?" Buck wondered quietly.

"Fine," Chim snapped his gum, irritated. "But only until your chicken pox epidemic clears up."

"Pleasure doing business," Sal drawled, draping an arm over Howie's shoulders. "Buckley, grab your gear. We're headed out." He looked up to the loft, finding Buck immediately. Buck blinked, taking half a step back before he stopped. Obviously he would have gotten Buck's file from the chief, it wasn't weird that he could pick Buck out of a crowd.

Hen squeezed Buck's hand, her mouth pursed in a frown. "Hang in there, Buck. He's not as cranky as he sounds. Promise."

"The rest of you, what are you, new? No one taught you how to eavesdrop stealthily? Come on, that's embarrassing."

The bell went off.

Sal gestured to Buck, loping up the loft stairs after everyone had cleared out. The silence hung between them, muffling the sound of the disappearing sirens. Sal caved first, taking a deep breath. Buck smirked, just a little.

"Who really cancelled the transfer?" Sal asked, eyeing him up and down.

Buck shrugged. It wasn't as if it mattered. He was here at the 118 with everyone else.

"Your brother-in-law got captain and asked you to stay, so you did. Noble, but," Sal headed into the kitchen, picking through one of the boxes of doughnuts that Ravi had brought in, grabbing one for himself. "Howie can handle himself. I, however, need someone to hold my hand," Sal continued, taking an enormous bite out of it. Buck stared at the smear of powdered sugar on his cheek.

"Uh, you have a little something just… yeah." Buck nodded, watching Sal grab a napkin. "This the kind of hand holding you're looking for?"

"Okay, not into metaphors. I didn't mean literally, but I had a guy leave and then three of my squad go down with the pox in rapid succession. So. Arm Wrestle Mania 25 commenced."

"You didn't arm wrestle Chim," Buck said, feeling off-kilter. He wasn't sure what Captain Sal Deluca, 122, wanted from him, but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to make it happen.

"Hell no, I'd probably break his wrist and he's got a baby to hold. Nah, Wrestle Mania was with the other stations that needed staffing."

"Multiple stations arm wrestled. Over avoiding having to take me," Buck said flatly. "I'm honoured."

"Oh, you misunderstand. Everyone wanted you." Sal finished off his doughnut, looking back in the box. "What the hell." He took another. "You got a car here?"

Buck shook his head. "Yearly service. I got a ride."

"Perfect. Grab your shit, let's blow this pop stand."

Buck trailed him back down the stairs, emptying his locker out on autopilot. "Wait — multiple stations wanted me?"

"Yeah, but I'm bigger and scarier so I won." Sal looked over his shoulder, frowning at the expression on Buck's face. "You're surprised."

"The, uh, the lawsuit, I thought…" Buck shrugged. "Kind of a liability."

"Once in nine years? Hell, Buckley, if you were gonna be a pest about it, there'd be more than one. Personally, I would have sued a few times — the hell was that heist accusation about? Or the lightning? Or hey, leaving your captain to rot at the bottom of the ocean because there wasn't enough proof they were out there." That last one came with air quotes and startled a laugh out of Buck.

"It wasn't a nuisance lawsuit, and honestly, a bunch of us tore a strip off the union for not taking care of it before it got that far," Sal continued, opening the trunk of the captain's truck. "In here. You've got one of the best records from both trips through the academy, you've pulled off some crazy ass rescues, and you're basically fearless. Seeing your name on the transfer list had me racing Mehta to the Chief's office."

"Oh. Uh. Thanks, I guess?" Buck said, trailing behind him. He dumped his bags, sliding into the passenger seat when Sal went for the driver's.

"Yeah, no problem. Like I said, not a hardship." Sal waited until Buck was settled before flipping his phone into Buck's lap. "Can you type a reply to that? We public servants should be safe drivers, and all," he added, winking at Buck.

"Sure, uh — the contact name is a donkey emoji?" Buck squinted at the phone. "Are you sure you want to give me your lock code five minutes after we met?"

"There isn't one; I do this a lot. Just open and start typing what I say. The donkey is because he's being a jackass. He can get his contact information back when he gets his head screwed on straight — I do want you typing that, Buckley."

"Oh, right, got it." Buck quirked an eyebrow, typing quickly.

"Had to steal my new transfer back, on the road, Gina says you need to come for dinner soon, uh," Sal tapped his fingers against the wheel, coming to a stop at the red light. "What was his question, again?"

"If you wanted to go to the game tomorrow? What game?"

Sal looked sideways at him. "Angels. Jackass and I split a couple seats with a group, but since we organized it we get to dibs the good games. Not that there are many, because they're the fucking Angels. But it's that or the National League and fuck that," He paused. "What do you prefer, by the way? Buckley? Buck? It's Evan, yeah?"

Buck shrugged. Maybe it was time to try out a new one. New house, new name, new… attitude? Maybe. Bobby had thought his attitude was good, it was just everyone else that seemed to have a problem with it these days. "Really not picky. I'll answer to anything."

"Okay, we'll let Ferb at ya when we get there. Not his actual name, he just likes the cartoon. —Can't make the game, covering for B shift, fucking pox, Stella is in her sports phase again — that's my kid, jackass is her godfather, or would be if either of us were into that kind of crap — if he wants to take her for some quality bonding time."

"He's asking who the transfer is."

Sal snorted. "You can probably answer that one without my help."

Buck cracked a grin at that, typing out his name and station. The response came back immediately and Buck frowned down at the phone. "He says sure and he's gotta go."

"Yeah, he hates when I dictate to someone else." Sal shrugged. "Dickhead. It's not like I'm sharing private information out loud."

"Well, so far I know that he's a jackass and he's your daughter's uncle, so. How private does he think that information is?"

"Sometimes I think he hates it when folks know his last name," Sal cackled. He pulled into the station parking lit, popping the trunk. "We can get you set up at Jonesy's locker for now — he's the one that left." He paused. "They're gonna be loud."

Sal hopped out of the truck and hoisted both of Buck's bags over his shoulder before Buck could get out of his seat. He waved Buck off when he tried to take one. "I got this, relax kid. Buckle up."

They walked into whoops and cheers from the loft, the entire shift hanging over the railing. One of the younger firefighters climbed onto the bottom rung of the railing and leaned forward, warbling "All hail the conquering hero!" as they passed the back of the engine. He got yanked back before he could fall by a guy Buck's age, laughing.

"All right, all right, shut up," Sal called, pointing up at the loft. "This is Buckley, nickname to be determined. I had to arm wrestle my way to the front of the line for him, unlike you jokers, so if anyone scares him off…" Sal trailed off threateningly.

"You like hash brown casserole?"

"I've got a fifty-point nickname survey!"

"Ferb, Sal just said don't scare him away!"

"Nerds," Sal said to Buck, his voice fond. "Give him a minute to get settled! Then you can all start asking him about himself. We've got a month, so pace yourselves."

[itsnesss]

hihi!! could you please do a younger driver (like ollie or kimi) and a piece on missing the reader’s graduation bc of a race?

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫 | oliver bearman × fem!reader

summary | you graduate, but ollie misses it because of a race. you give your speech, heart heavy, thinking of him

warnings | fluff, soft romance, mild angst, long-distance struggles, emotional vulnerability, comfort

word count | 1.5 k

🖇 more ob87 🖇 f1 masterlist

Your dress has been hanging in the closet for days, protected by a garment bag. It’s the same one you picked out with your mom, the one Ollie said made you look like a movie star.

Less than 24 hours to your graduation, and as you place the cap on the bed, you check your phone one more time. Nothing. No new messages. No calls. No news from Ollie.

You knew. You knew there was a chance. A high chance, to be honest, that he wouldn’t make it. But you had made so many plans… He himself promised he would try everything to be there.

“What if I get there just at the end, and I give you a hug when you finish your speech?” he had said excitedly, days before.

You practiced that speech with him. Several times. On video calls from hotels all around the world. He corrected you, laughed when you made a bad joke, asked you to say it slower when you rushed.

And you did it hoping that, when you walked on stage and read the final words, his eyes would be waiting for you in the audience.

But now, less than a day away, everything points to him not being there.

You sit on the bed and dial his number. It goes straight to voicemail.

You take a deep breath, swallowing the disappointment. He loves you. You know that. But sometimes loving someone who also loves their dream is… lonely.

You want to scream. Not at him. At the world.

Then, your phone vibrates.

A voice message from Ollie.

“Hey... love. I’m sure you probably already know what I’m about to say. I tried, really. But I’m not going to make it. I’m stuck here because of the rankings. They won’t let me move anything. I’m so sorry. So sorry. I thought if I didn’t tell you earlier, there might still be a tiny chance. But there isn’t…”

Pause.

“It hurts more than I can explain not to be there tomorrow. I know how much it means to you. To both of us. But even if I can’t see you walk across that stage, I’ll be watching you from wherever I am. And when you finish, when you have your diploma in your hands… call me. Please. Because even if I can’t hug you, I promise I’ll be with you in everything that comes after.”

A tear escapes.

Tomorrow is still ahead.

The sun falls perfectly over campus when you leave the house with your cap in hand and your eyes still swollen from crying the night before. You look in the rearview mirror of your dad’s car and smile automatically. You’ve waited for this day for years. You imagined it again and again. But in all those versions… Ollie was there.

When you get out of the car, everyone seems to be shining. Your classmates take selfies, some rush to meet their families, others joke about not tripping going up the stage. You just look for a face you already know you won’t find.

The ceremony begins. Your name is on the program. You’re going to give a speech. One you practiced with him. One you read over and over so he could hear it between training, interviews, and flights.

“Now, please welcome our graduating class’s guest speaker…”

You’re asked to go up.

The lights blind you a little. The auditorium is huge. It feels bigger without him.

“Good afternoon. I want to start with something very simple… thank you.”

Your voice is steady. No one notices how tightly you grip the edge of the podium, or how your eyes wander over the rows, hoping to see him somewhere. Hoping you could trick fate and make him appear.

“Thank you to my teachers, my parents, my friends… and to someone who isn’t here today. Though he was in every rehearsal, in every word of this speech. This person… believed in me when I didn’t. He listened, encouraged me, interrupted me with bad jokes so I wouldn’t take everything so seriously. And even though he’s not sitting here today… he’s with me. I’m sorry. Because that’s what the people we love do: they’re there, even when they can’t be.”

There’s a long silence. Some people applaud. Others smile, not fully understanding who you meant.

But you know. And that’s enough.

When you step down from the stage, your chest burns a little. Pride, sadness, a warm hollow that carries his name.

You go through the ceremony like a spectator of your own movie. You receive your diploma. You get hugs. Your parents congratulate you. Friends take pictures with you.

And you smile. Because you made it this far.

But something is missing. And no matter how much you deny it, you feel it.

Later, when you’re at home, the dress already wrinkled and the cap on the table, your phone vibrates.

Ollie: Can I call you?

You answer with a simple “Yes.”

Seconds later, his name appears on the screen. You pick up.

“Hi,” you say, barely a whisper.

“You look beautiful,” he says without hesitation.

“How do you know?”

“I watched the whole stream. I had an interview at the same time, but I snuck away. I saw you give the speech. You have no idea how hard it was not to cry like an idiot at the part about ‘the people we love are there, even when they can’t be’…”

You bite your lip. There’s a huge knot in your throat.

“I really wanted you to be there.”

“Me too. Every second. Every damn second. Can I send you something?”

Before you can answer, a notification arrives.

An attached file. A video.

You open it.

It’s Ollie, in his hotel room, still wearing his team suit, holding a small homemade sign that says “Congrats, love. You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s cheesy,” he laughs from the phone. “But I made it while watching the ceremony. Just in case… you couldn’t see me, so at least you’d know I was with you. In my way.”

And you… you break down crying. Silently. With the full weight of having wanted that moment so badly with him.

“Thank you, Ollie.”

“I’m going to make it up to you. All of it. I promise.”

“No need. Just… thank you for not making me feel alone, even though you were so far away.”

Silence. Warmth.

“I love you,” he says suddenly, steady.

Your heart stops for a second.

“I love you too.”

And at that moment, even though you’re miles apart, even though you haven’t seen each other, even though there’s no photo of you both at your graduation… you know this day will live in your memory as one of the most beautiful ever.

Only three days have passed since your graduation, but it feels like an eternity. After the call with Ollie, everything was bittersweet: you knew he loved you, you knew he tried, but not being able to hug him that day hurt more than you thought.

And you accepted it. You learned to let go of the idea of “the perfect moment.”

Today is Sunday, and you’re at home, in pajamas, watching a documentary you’re barely listening to. Your family is out. You have the house to yourself. Your phone is silent. You don’t even know what country Ollie is in now.

Someone rings the doorbell.

You frown. A package? A neighbor? You get up dragging your feet, expecting anything but what you see when you open the door.

“Hi, love.”

And there he is.

With his suitcase at his side, a cap crooked on his head, hair messy like he just ran out of the airport. His eyes lock onto yours like he can’t believe he’s really seeing you. Like he’s afraid you’re part of a jet-lagged dream.

And you… you’re frozen in shock.

“Ollie,” you whisper.

“I didn’t want to miss another important thing. I took the first flight after the GP. I just arrived. I couldn’t tell you. My battery died, I lost signal, then I got lost in the airport… but… I’m here. And I don’t care how I look now, or that I don’t have a gift, or that I’m sweating like crazy. I just needed to see that you were okay.”

Your eyes fill with tears.

And then you run.

You don’t think. You don’t hesitate. You just hug him like your body finally remembers what breathing well means. Like he fits with your chest, your arms, your story.

He laughs into your neck, his hands firm on your back.

“It was so hard not to cry earlier,” he murmurs. “But this… this is a miracle.”

You pull him tighter.

“It’s not a miracle. It’s that you love me.”

He pulls back a little just to look at you. His fingers brush a strand of hair from your face.

“So much.”

“Want to come in?” you ask with a teary smile.

“Only if you give me coffee and a tour of a brilliant graduate.”

“I’ll give you anything. But the tour starts with you hugging me for another half hour.”

“Deal.”

You close the door. He puts down his suitcase. And without another word, you hug again in the hallway, as if the world has finally aligned.

[swearimnevergivingup]

HOLD ME GENTLY WHILE I FALL - suguru x reader (nsfw)

sypnosis: you should close the door. you know you should. but it’s late at night, your bones ache, your eyes weary, and you’ve just buried another colleague last weekend. another loss. another closed casket funeral, with no body to even mourn. harder missions that take everything from you and still demand more. and through it all, the emptiness that gnaws at you seems to only grow with each passing day.  so when the ghost of the boy you loved and lost appears in front of you for the first time in years, you can’t find it in you to shut the door on him. 

content: suguru geto/reader, porn with plot, smut, explicit content, mentions of suicidal ideation, angst with happy ending, tw: themes of grief and loss, the jujutsu world is fucked up!!! and dear reader is at her breaking point (4.3k words)

a/n: okay i disappeared from this site for a long time but i came back to drop this. i'm pretty happy with how it turned out, please do let me know what you think! <3

You’re just about to turn off the kitchen light when you feel it.

A flicker of cursed energy. Unmistakable.

Your heart stalls.

You wouldn’t have believed your senses at first, but it’s a signature you know as intimately as your own. Deep and familiar, like the ache carved in your bones after he left.

Geto Suguru is at your door.

You’ve had nightmares about it before. That he’d only turn up at your door, bloody and bruised, collapsing at your feet. Afraid that the only way you’d get to see him again is when he’s nothing but a cold body.

You’re walking towards his presence before you can stop yourself, fingers already reaching for the handle. All rational thought dissolves, commandeered by a rush of pure instinct – fear, dread, worry, longing. Tangled together, and pulling you forward.

You yank open the door without thinking, wide-eyed and bracing yourself for whatever might be on the other side. There’s no plan and no restraint, consumed only by the fear that he might be dying at your doorstep.

Instantly, you scan his body for signs of injury. 

But he’s completely fine. He’s fine. 

Suguru's hair is longer now, loosely tied up in a half bun. His boyish features certainly hardened up over the years, standing a little taller than you remembered, his shoulders broader and his muscles more defined. There’s an air of something heavy about him, but it’s undeniably still him. 

Relief washes over you just as the reality of what you're doing dawns upon you. Alive and breathing, and you’ve just opened your door for the most wanted man in the Jujutsu world. 

 “Y-you aren’t supposed to be here,” you warn, though your voice trembles. Small, fragile, like it belongs to a timid little girl, brandishing a weapon she’s too afraid to use. 

“I know.” Suguru’s voice is soft as he studies you. “I wanted to see you, though.”

Your throat feels tight, and your stomach churns. 

Geto Suguru is a danger to society. If seen, he is to be executed on sight.

You should fight. That’s what they would want. Or maybe you should run. At the very least, you should shut your door. But you simply stand frozen. 

He inches a step closer. 

Instantly, your cursed energy crackles and roars, like oil set aflame, betraying your emotions. Your fingers twitch. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest. You clutch the door tighter, and tighter yet, trying to steady yourself.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asks quietly.

For a moment, he almost sounds… hurt.

“I don’t know, Suguru.” Your voice is barely a whisper now. “Should I be?”

His face twists into something pained, something raw. Then he looks away, exhaling softly. 

“I would never hurt you. Surely you know that. I just want to talk.”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

You should close the door. You know you should. But it’s late at night, your bones ache, your eyes weary, and you’ve just buried another colleague last weekend. 

Another loss. Another closed casket funeral, with no body to even mourn. Harder missions that take everything from you and still demand more. And through it all, the emptiness that gnaws at you seems to only grow with each passing day. 

So when the ghost of the boy you loved and lost appears in front of you for the first time in years, you can’t find it in you to shut the door on him. 

(— Sometimes, you desperately wanted to be 16 again, to be standing at the beginning of something blooming between the two of you. Futures unwritten, at the edge of something you would only recognise later as love.

You remember the girl you were back then, your voice quivering, thin and high, stammering a confession into the dark, wild heartbeat only stilled by the feeling of his warm lips pressing a kiss to your cheek.  

Fooling around in empty classrooms and after missions, his hand up your skirt, your fingers tangled in his hair. Practising sparring only to end up pinned under him, all rough and wild as you moaned into his mouth. The stumbling beginnings of young love neither of you knew how to name.

It was messy too, as often happens when the threads of friendship and romantic relationships intertwine. You would flirt with Satoru, teasing touches and laughing too loudly at his jokes, just to revel in the way Suguru’s jaw would tighten at the sight. He would retaliate in kind too, letting girls hang off his shoulder at school, glancing over to watch the poorly concealed jealousy on your face.

Back when grief wasn’t a familiar friend, when it didn’t linger around the hallways of the morgue with its ashy hands around your throat. You hadn’t been acquainted with loss then, when your reverse cursed technique was for healing up scraps and bruises and not broken bones and limbs barely hanging from their bodies.)

Your hands tremble when you shut the door behind you. There’s no comprehending this situation. 

For years, you had pretended he was dead. It was far simpler that way — to grieve a dead man rather than accept the reality.

It became easier after some time. You’d only seen his face, or the blurry outline of it, through grainy surveillance footage and hastily snapped shots from informants over the years. It became easier to pretend that such a man, a figure cloaked in monk robes, with hair far longer than your Suguru, was someone different. A stranger.

(—It was some time ago that you realised you had forgotten the sound of his voice. You didn’t think that much time had passed at all, but you couldn’t summon it, couldn’t recall the fondness in his voice when he said your name or the cadence of his laugh, no matter how hard you tried.

The grief hit harder than any curse. Your body wracked with sobs as you sat on the bathroom floor, clutching your chest as you mourned him all over again.)

“It’s a nice place,” Suguru comments quietly. He’s stepping further into your space, fingers trailing over the photo frames lining the wall as he looks around your small apartment. “Cosy. I like it.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say again breathily, as if repeating yourself could somehow undo your decision.

You watch as he takes a seat on your couch. You stay rooted to the door, back straight, mouth dry. Almost transfixed at the sight of him. 

Alive. 

“How have you been?” 

“I’m fine,” you reply curtly. You have your guard up. He can’t fault you for that.

“You don’t seem fine. When’s the last time you had a full night's sleep?”

You scoff lightly at that. “Do any of us sleep well anymore?” 

Suguru shifts forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. He watches you for a long, quiet moment before he speaks again. 

“I’m asking about you.”

“Suguru- I- What?” you ask in exasperation. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

There’s an unreadable expression on his face when he looks back up at you. 

When he doesn’t reply immediately, you continue. “You can’t just- just show up here- when I haven’t seen you in two years- and ask me how i’m doing like nothing happened-”

“…I saw you on that bridge last night.”

A tightness grips your chest. 

“What?” you breathe, fast and sharp. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

There’s really no point denying it, the pure shock on your face being admittance enough, but you pull away, crossing your arms in front of you defensively.

“I was out trying to absorb a curse,” he says slowly, eyeing you knowingly. “A little close to Jujutsu Tech for my liking, but eh, a special grade curse like that one was worth the risk. I thought my eyes were deceiving me at first, but your cursed energy was unmistakable.”

You swallow hard, refusing to meet his gaze. 

“You were sitting there, on the edge of that bridge. Crying and looking like you had given up on everything,” he continues, voice strained. “For one fucking moment I thought you were going to j��”

“I don’t know what you saw,” you cut him off harshly, eyes narrowed. “But it’s not what you’re thinking. If you’ve come here because of some misguided sense of obligation, or guilt, or whatever— just don’t. I don’t need it.”

“Obligation?” Suguru repeats incredulously, furrowing his eyebrows like you’ve just said something ridiculous. “You don’t know how worried I was. You really think I only came because of-” he stops himself and lets out a tight exhale. 

He says nothing, just quietly studies the look on your face. The silence stretches on, and you shift under the weight of his gaze. You wish there were somewhere to run.

“It doesn’t matter what it was. I don’t need an explanation,” he says finally. “You don’t owe me one, either.”

“Then- then what?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Suguru says softly. “That’s why I came.”

“So? he asks. Gently, patiently. “Are you?” 

You’re taken aback by his unexpected question. No one has asked you that in a long time. You don’t know what to say.

That’s one thing about Suguru you’ve always liked. A quiet observer. Eyes that always saw too much, and yet he always knew when to push back and when to stay still. Someone who never demanded anything more than what you were ready to give.

You could lie to him, then maybe he would go away, and you could pretend this was all part of a bad dream. But there’s something so disarming about the way he’s looking at you - you’ve found yourself at the receiving end of his sensitivity again, and perhaps it cracks open something raw inside of you. Some part of you that’s been dying to be honest with someone, desperate to be seen and heard.

Some part of you thinks he might be the only one who understands.

“...I don’t know.” 

Lately, you’ve started feeling like you’re the problem. Too emotional for a Jujutsu sorcerer. Too soft, unable to simply swallow down your grief, unable to detach from the misery of it all. 

You didn’t know what you were doing on that bridge last night either. You had found yourself there after a difficult mission, feeling emptier than ever before. Your legs had carried you to that spot before you were even fully aware of it. And then you were climbing the railing, staring down below at the vastness of the water, illuminated only by the moonlight. 

“I wasn’t planning to jump, alright? I’m not- I didn’t- that wasn’t it.”

He nods once, but stays silent. Listening.

“I was just tired,” you mutter defeatedly. “Tired, and looking for a way out.”

You’ve always thought it was silly to call this a job. Being a sorcerer, taking down curses, the Jujutsu world - it’s all you’ve ever known. There’s no clocking out, no weekends off. Instead, there are violent fates and grisly ends. Names too young to be carved on tombstones.

The guilt you feel is unfathomable.

The future laid out for you is inescapable.

The cursed technique you wield isn’t a gift. It’s a life sentence.

If you can’t see an out, it’s only because you’ve never known anything else.

“Sometimes… I just wish I could run away from it all,” you whisper. You taste the words on your tongue, and it feels like a sin to have spoken at all. “Turn my back on this stupid Jujutsu world.”

You let out a shaky exhale. You’ve never admitted that to anyone out loud before. You hadn’t meant for the words to spill out of your mouth, but you find yourself unable to stop yourself now.

All this time, not a word or whisper from him and yet you’d somehow found yourself thinking that maybe you finally understood what it felt like to be in his shoes. To make the choices he did. To be familiar with the darkness that festers in the pit of your stomach, an all-consuming rot. To hold the kind of grief that turns to indescribable rage when no one’s looking.

Back when Suguru defected, you yearned to make sense of why it all happened. Why things unfolded the way they did. You couldn’t fathom the choices he had made. Now, you think you face the same desperation he must have felt back then. Somewhere along the way, that longing for Suguru had grown into something that looked like understanding.

“Suguru,” your voice cracks, and your eyes burn. “It’s just- It’s just– There’s only one of me. There’s only so many of us.”

Giving up your lives for a completely fruitless sacrifice. Like trying to stop the sun from rising or the world from spinning.

There’s a brief flash of surprise across Suguru’s features, like he hadn’t expected you to say that. 

He doesn’t say anything at first. Then, he rises from his seat, crossing the distance in your tiny apartment towards where you’re standing. Gingerly, his hand comes to rest against your cheek, brushing away a stray tear you hadn’t realised had fallen. 

“Is that- Is that… what it felt like for you? Back then.” You say it like it’s a plea.

Tell me I'm not going crazy. 

Tell me you understand. 

“I think so, yeah.” He laughs quietly, looking away. “It felt like I was drowning. I was tired of fighting a losing battle. Of feeling like sorcerers like me and you are—”

“—Expendable,” you finish for him.

“Yeah,” he says bitterly. “And what’s the purpose in that?”

“I’m sorry,” you say. You don’t know how else to reply. You hate that he felt that way, all alone. You hate that you’ve come to empathise with the same decisions you would’ve once been horrified at.

“Don’t be. It isn’t your fault. None of it was.”

There’s hesitation before he speaks again. “I should be the one saying sorry… for everything. For leaving you like that.”

(— You think back to the last kiss you pressed to his lips before he left for that fateful mission. There were three heavy words hanging off the tip of your tongue, but you had been way too shy back then. You hadn’t wanted to be the first one who said it. Suguru was drifting away then, and you had seen it. You thought maybe that would have been enough to get him to let you in.

“Hm? Did you say something?”

“It’s nothing. Come back soon.”)

I love you.

But love wouldn’t have been enough to change anything. You know that more than ever now.

More tears reach your eyes, and you raise your hand to rub at your face, flustered. Even though you knew you would have been powerless to stop him from leaving, the guilt had still consumed you for a long time. You hadn’t realised how badly you needed to hear that. How badly you wanted to see him again.

There’s silence for a few minutes as he soothes you, letting you wet his shirt sleeves with your tears. He only pulls you in tighter when you sniffle loudly, the overwhelming sense of helplessness biting at you. His presence is the only thing that drowns it all out. 

You can’t help but think about all the time lost. All the time you could’ve been spending with him, instead of just missing him. 

“Thank you,” Suguru murmurs after a while. “For letting me in. I didn’t think you would have wanted to see me, but I was trying my luck”

“How could I not have wanted to see you?”

I waited for you every day. 

I searched for you in my dreams. 

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “I wouldn’t blame you either. Besides, your place wasn’t exactly easy to find.”

It’s true - in the weeks and months after Suguru’s defection, the higher-ups had been in uproar, afraid he would somehow come and convince you to join him. A special-grade and a promising first-grade sorcerer joining hands was a possibility they had to shut down at all costs. They had you moving from place to place every so often, calling it a “precautionary measure”.

“That wasn’t by choice,” you mutter. In 2 years alone, you’ve been sent to countless cities and made to move apartments 9 times. Never allowed to stay in one place for too long. Someone’s watchful eyes always on you. 

“I did try to keep my eye on you here and there, though.” He gives you a teasing grin. Trying to lighten the mood. “Saw you on your birthday last year. Pretty dress. You looked cute.”

“What?” You splutter incredulously.

He shrugs. “I just figured you’d be celebrating it at that old izakaya you like. And I was right.”

And then more quietly this time, he adds, “I just missed you. Wanted to see how you were doing. You looked happy. I was glad.”

You blink rapidly and look away, feeling your face heat up. He‘s been looking for you? 

Your last birthday was the most miserable one ever, but you don’t tell him that. You had come home and cried your eyes out on the couch, feeling like you’d never be able to get over the pain of losing him. You only liked that izakaya place because of him, anyway.

“You missed me?” you repeat, hanging onto that word.

“I miss you,” he corrects, his voice low. “Present tense.” He’s looking at you with those eyes again, scanning your face for your reaction. 

You feel your heart pounding faster than it did when you saw him at your door.

As teenagers, you were a timid thing. Too restrained, a little insecure of yourself, and always waiting for Suguru to initiate something instead. He’d steal you away to make out with you, or sneak into your dorm room at night, and you would gladly let yourself get swept up by it. But you were always waiting for him to make a move first, far too doubtful of yourself and of whatever existed between the two of you.

When Suguru left, you regretted everything. Regretted not telling him you love him, as if that would have been enough to hold him from breaking. Regretted not being more forward with your feelings, for not having the courage to try and peel back his layers. 

This time, you don’t hold back when you lean in to kiss him. 

Suguru’s response is instantaneous, hands moving to the back of your neck as he kisses you back fervently. You’re unsteady at first, but quickly find yourself desperate as you moan into his mouth, pawing at his shirt, his arms, then his abs, as his fingers tangle in your hair. 

How is he here? You can’t believe you’re touching him. That he’s even in front of you at all. 

“You’re really here,” you whisper. Relief washes over you as you take him in again. Relishing the feeling of his lips on yours. The warmth of his touch and the smell of his skin. “I missed you, I missed you so fucking much.”

 “I- I- I had to pretend you were dead. I couldn’t take the uncertainty. I couldn’t take not knowing who you were anymore, not knowing if you were hurt, if you were okay—” you ramble. You find yourself tearing up again as Suguru pulls away to look at you.

“You know me,” he replies, with certainty in his eyes. He kisses your forehead. “Only you know me.”

You know me. 

You know me. 

Your heart sings with the joy of being next to him again. 

You stumble towards the couch together, exchange messy, desperate kisses. Suguru pulls you onto his lap so you’re straddling him, another hand settling on your waist as you grind down on him. He’s intentionally letting you set the pace, slowing down so you can take charge.

“This is- ah- all very unlike you.”

“I’ve changed,” you whisper back resolutely.

“Is that so?” he teases. “I’ll have to take my time and find out how.” 

Suguru’s hand finds its way up under your shirt, and your breath hitches when he unhooks your bra easily. It’s hard to contain your sounds as he cups your breasts, brushing his fingers over your hardened nipples. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched that you find yourself practically shaking from the stimulation, your movements stilled.

“You’re so sensitive,” he groans, “my pretty girl.”

It’s all a bit of a blur from there. The next moment, Suguru has you spread out on the couch, his hands holding your thighs apart while he dips his tongue into your dripping core. When he adds a finger in, you whine and buck your hips hard, earning a gentle nibble on your inner thigh.

“Stay still for me, baby.”

“Can’t, can’t, s’ too much—”

You’re naked except for your panties, tugged to the side as he hungirly laps at your pussy. It’s a filthy sight. The way Suguru’s lips shine with your slick in the darkened room, his pupils blown wide with pure desire. His hair slipped out of its bun some time ago, now a mess from your hands running through it. 

You pull him up to kiss him just as he sinks another finger inside you. You moan into his mouth, raw and unrestrained as he grazes your sensitive walls. 

“Want you- want you inside me, fuck. Please, please.”

“Okay, baby, okay—” you’re pulling off his shirt before he can even finish, tossing it across the room.

The light in the living room is dim, but even then it’s clear that he’s all broad shoulders and hardened muscle. He’s so different, and yet… entirely the same. Still feels like your Suguru. You were touching him earlier, but seeing him standing shirtless as he undoes his belt makes you dizzy with want.

He bends down and picks you up like it’s nothing, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you down the hallway to your bedroom.

You giggle into his neck, pretending to resist. “A big, bad man’s kidnapping me.” Your chest feels light in a way it hasn’t felt in months.

“That’s right,” Suguru laughs as he gently sets you down on the bed. “And I’ll eat you up if you don’t behave.”

The crinkling of his eyes and the genuine smile on his face are something you thought you would never see again. You hold his gaze for a moment, trying to capture it in your memory. 

“Lie back,” he murmurs. “Let me look at you.”

You flush as you lie back down on the bed, heart thudding as you slowly spread your legs. He settles between your parted thighs before lowering down to kiss you. 

It’s a mess - his fingers wet with your slick, his cock leaking precum as he taps it once, twice against your clit. It catches against your hole, making you gasp, before he eases himself in.

You both groan from the sensation. It’s so much, you feel him up to your stomach, and he’s pressing against your walls in a way that makes you breathless. 

“I- hngh- it’s a lot. I haven’t- I haven’t-”

“Doing so good.”’He soothes you with another kiss. “My pretty girl.”

Your head spins as he fucks you, mewling as you throb and clench around him. He pushes your legs up to your chest, and the new angle has him pushing into your deeper than before, the dizzying feeling of intrusion in your lower belly unrelenting as his cock kisses your most sensitive spots. You can only look at him helplessly, with half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, as he fucks you. 

You’re like a tied knot coming undone underneath him. Waves and waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you unable to tell when one orgasm ends and another one starts. Suguru sings praises in your hair, and you grip onto him harder, wishing the moment would never end. 

He flips you over so you’re on all fours, pushing down on your back so you arch for him. You start whining again, thighs quivering from your orgasm. 

“That’s it,” he rasps. “You’re—” he grabs the meat of your ass and spreads you apart, “—so fucking hot like this.” 

You grip and pull at the sheets, practically sobbing from the overstimulation. It’s so much all at once, the heavy pressure of his cock dragging along your walls, and you’re struggling to stay in place as he ruts into you. 

You’re a shaking, mewling mess when Suguru finally finishes inside you, his warm cum filling you up and trickling down your thighs. 

He collapses down beside you with a groan. You’re barely coherent, too caught up in the residual pleasure still washing over you.

You feel his arms wrap around you, a hand moving to stroke your hair. “Pretty girl,” he murmurs. “Angel. You okay?”

You nod faintly into his chest, still catching your breath. You think about all the times spent just like this; curled up next to him in a bed too small for the both of you. Your first kiss, your first time, your first love — it's been him from the very start.

If you could have just one thing; one selfish desire - it would be to keep this moment forever.

You turn towards Suguru, and he’s already looking at you, that same gentle affection on his face. His lips part, as if to say something. 

That's when it hits you.

Sudden, sharp, and clear as day. 

The real reason, that despite the yearning in your chest, you were so afraid of seeing him again.

Terrified, not of who they say he is now, and not even of the blood on his hands.

You were terrified he would appear at your door in the dead of night, looking at you with the same quiet fondness in his eyes. Terrified that with an outstretched hand, an open invitation, he’d undo everything you’ve tried to run away from with three simple words.

“Come with me.”

Terrified because you knew you would say yes.

The world wouldn’t be any kinder, your futures not any less uncertain. 

But he’s here.

It would be enough for now.

a/n: this was a dynamic i really wanted to explore - someone who could meet suguru with a shared sense of understanding. where he won’t have to explain or justify his beliefs or traumatic experiences. thinking about the comfort they would probably find in each other... in some ways i wanted this to be a mirror of the grief and loss many of us feel at some point in our lives… and the feeling of wanting to be heard and held by someone!! anyways please do let me know what you think! your likes, comments, and reblogs would mean so much to meeee <3

[firewasabeast]

So He Waits

a little tommy/bucktommy (sort of) fic. tags: implied child abuse, a terrorist attack, blood/injury, mourning/grief, Buck and Tommy are still broken up, Tommy is reaching out. Read below or on ao3.

Tommy is eight when he moves to a new city with his parents in the middle of the school year. He’s anxious on his first day. He’s been going to the same school all his life. But this one is bigger, and scarier, and kids look at him funny.

After he’s introduced by his teacher, he takes a seat, pulls out his math book, and listens as the teacher starts the lesson.

He ignores the snickering happening behind him. Pretends he doesn’t hear the whispers.

He’s known kids can be cruel since kindergarten. He tripped and fell on his first day, his chin bled, and kids called him Trip from that day on.

But he’s Tommy here, and that’s exciting! The kids might be whispering about him now but, once they get to know him, they’ll like him.

That’s what his mom told him anyway.

When it’s time for recess, he follows behind the rest of the class. He thinks about heading for the swings, but when he sees a group of boys running toward the field with baseballs and bats, he smiles and runs to catch up.

“What are you doing?” one of the boys, he thinks his name is Matthew, asks.

“I know how to play!” Tommy exclaims. “I love baseball!”

Matthew looks back at the other boys. Tommy spots a few of them roll their eyes.

“We’ve already got enough players,” Matthew says. “You can just go and sit over there. We’ll tell you if we need you.” He uses his bat to point to an old, rotting tree stump at the edge of the field.

Tommy licks his lips, then hides his disappointment behind a smile. “Okay,” he says. “Just let me know when you need me!”

He walks over to the stump and sits down.

The splinters poke through his pants, right into his skin.

He doesn’t move though. They might need him soon!

So he waits.

*

Tommy is fourteen when his dad pulls up to the house in his truck, a beat up Honda Accord in tow. It looks like a piece of junk.

Scrap metal at best.

But Charles Kinard smiles wide, gives Tommy a smack on the shoulder, and tells him, “We’re gonna put this thing back together, piece by piece.”

“R- Really?” Tommy asks. He’s been wanting to learn about cars for a couple years now. He’s been excited about starting auto shop class next semester. He’d always hoped his dad would teach him; Charles had been a mechanic since he left the marines. But the interest to teach had never been there before.

Maybe, Tommy thought, maybe that was changing.

The car sits untouched for two weeks.

Tommy’s been doing research though. He went to the library and checked out books. Even rented a VHS tape called Auto Mechanics 101. He’s pretty sure he’s watched it ten times over the last few days.

Another week goes by.

He comes home from a friend's house to see the Accord being towed away. His dad is standing just outside the garage, counting cash.

“What… What’s going on?” Tommy asks.

“I just made three hundred dollars, that’s what going on, Tomboy.”

Tommy can smell the booze, strong on his breath. It seems to seep through his pores more and more each day.

“I thought we were gonna fix it?”

Charles scoffs. “I can’t let something like that just sit here, you idiot! I’m the only one working in this damn house! We needed the money, I got the money!”

Tommy knows there’s no point in talking about it right now. It’s not worth the pain.

He walks into the house, goes straight to his room, and scoots his dresser in front of the door.

Just a precaution, in case his dad decides to drink more tonight.

He takes a look at his calendar. Counts the days.

It’s a little under two months until auto shop class starts. Then he’ll learn everything he’s been wanting to know.

So he waits.

*

Tommy is twenty-one and he’s pretty sure he’s not going to make it to twenty-two.

He decided to fly in the army because he loved the freedom of being in the sky.

He didn’t think about the fact that he couldn’t live in the sky.

He’s asleep, on base in Iraq, when there’s an explosion so loud he goes deaf before the world starts to cave in on him and he falls unconscious.

He’s not sure where he is when he wakes up. Doesn’t remember what happened either.

Was he in California?

Did he get in a car accident?

Was there an earthquake?

There’s a grumbling sound beside him. He blinks a few times, wipes the dust from his eyes, looks over to see Warrant Officer Daniels a few feet away from him, eyes wide as he gasps for breath.

It takes Tommy a few more seconds for his brain to come back online. When it does, he flips over onto his belly and starts to crawl closer to Daniels. That's when he sees that his legs are gone. Sees that blood is gushing out of his body.

“Dan-” he coughs, his throat feels like sandpaper. “Daniels. D... Daniels, hey-”

Daniels takes his last breath before Tommy’s able to get out another word.

There’s noises, yelling. In the distance he hears the sound of a language he doesn’t understand.

He takes a radio from Daniels’ lifeless body and keeps crawling.

He ignores the way his leg burns. The way he can feel something thick and wet soaking his socks.

He doesn’t know how, but he makes it through the rubble and outside.

He keeps going and going until he reaches a bunker, a good distance from the base.

His hands are shaking when he turns the radio on.

“Colonel Franks, do you copy?”

There’s a few seconds of silence, then, “Kinard? That you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Your barracks took a direct hit. Where the hell are you?”

Tommy takes in a short, stunted breath. It hurts like hell.

He gives the colonel his position.

“You hurt?”

Tommy looks own at his leg. Notices for the first time that the bone is popping through his skin. He’s pretty sure some ribs are broken too. “Ye- Yes, Sir.”

“You stay put, you hear me. We-” there’s static, briefly, "-et to you as soon as we can. Until then, keep quiet. Radio silence.”

Tommy sits there, thinks about Daniels, tries not to take a breath.

He listens to the screams in the distance, hands clench into fists with each new explosion.

But there’s nothing he can do.

So he waits.

*

Tommy is thirty-four when he decides to blow up his entire life.

He’s just transferred stations, a change he knew he needed for a long time, and he thought that would be enough.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because changing stations doesn’t change who you are.

And what Tommy is, is very, very, gay.

He’s waiting for his fiancée of two years at their favorite restaurant, going over the conversation he’s about to have as soon as she gets there.

“Abby, I need to tell you something. I know I’ve been stalling, since we got engaged. And you- you’ve been so patient with me. Thank you for that. I know you didn’t want a long engagement from the start, and I keep making excuses, but there’s… there’s a reason. Not another woman! It- No, it’s not that. It’s… I- Abby, I’m gay.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he nearly jumps out of his chair. He pulls out and stares at the message.

Sorry, running a little late. Work was crazy. Sally gave me a few bridal magazines though and I thought we could look through them during dinner. Start making plans, you know? Be there soon! Love you!

Tommy takes a deep breath, swallows down the bile in his throat.

He takes the opportunity to order himself a second beer.

Goes over the speech again, omits some unnecessary parts that are only there to waste time.

When Abby arrives she’s a ball of excited energy, flipping her hair and pulling the magazines out of her purse to set them on the table.

And he’s ready to do it, ready to tell her the truth, but he also knows what's going to happen as soon as it’s his turn to speak.

So he waits.

*

Tommy is halfway to forty-two when Captain Nash dies.

It hits him harder than he thought it would.

Miraculously, he doesn’t get in any trouble for stealing another helicopter.

But, after the funeral, he does take two weeks off.

He doesn’t trust himself in the sky.

He doesn’t trust himself on the ground either.

He sends Buck a text that doesn’t get a response.

He sends another.

He tries for a phone call instead.

Nobody picks up.

He doesn’t stop trying, not for awhile at least. He’s not sure if it’s more for Evan or for himself.

But when it gets to the point that seven texts have gone unanswered, and four phone calls have gone straight to voicemail, well, he’s not sure what else to do.

He leaves a message.

“Evan, I- I don’t want to keep bothering you. I know this has been hard and I… I feel like I’m just making it worse by calling and texting. I want you to know I’m here for you though. I know what it’s like t- to need people and I-”

“I need you,” he wants to say. He doesn’t.

“I just want you to know that I’m here. I won’t keep bothering you. I… Yeah, I get the hint. But I’m here. Whenever you need me, Evan, I’m here.”

He hangs up the phone and drops it down on the couch beside him.

He closes his eyes, the image of Buck collapsing on the ground still fresh in his mind.

A tear falls down his face, then another. He needs someone to talk to.

He doesn’t have anyone else to call.

So he waits.

[wwinterwitch]

feels like fate – joel miller

summary: you've had a crush on joel for quite a while now and you suspect that he might feel the same, hopeful that something happens at the new year eve's party

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

tags: tons of fluff, mutual pining, reader is a kindergarten teacher, age gap (wrote this picturing joel in his 50s and reader in her 30s), maria, drunk!dina, ellie and jesse briefly featured

a like and/or reblog is always appreciated!

all masterlists | pedro pascal characters masterlist

You feel like a complete fool walking into that New Year's Eve party, not really anticipating just how mortifying it would be to walk through those doors after spending a ridiculous amount of time doing your hair and your makeup...just in a silly attempt to impress a guy.

It felt almost unreal to you. Something so incredibly out of your character. Yet here you are, dressed to impress, making your way further inside as some people that knew you started acknowledging your arrival. Thankfully, everyone you make eye contact with offers you a friendly smile as you walk past them, which helps to ease your nerves.

Most of the people that greeted you were parents of the little kids you teach at the local kindergarten, a colorful building next to the new library. Aside from your job as a teacher, you really don’t stand out much. You tend to keep to yourself, with modest amount of friends and an almost inexistent love life. 

A few dates here and there over the years... casual flings that never really led anywhere...nothing remarkable. Eventually you just didn’t care about that aspect of your life, already used to the same couple of guys trying to get your attention here and there. Nothing that was worth getting excited for.

But that's until Tommy Miller's brother showed up.

That man somehow found a way to turn your world upside down from the moment the two of you met. He caught your eye almost immediately, and even though you could be wrong, you're pretty sure you made a good first impression on him too.

Why else did he offer to fix that light in your front porch when he heard you complain about it with a neighbour, just to then show up at your house a few days later asking if it was working properly now? And why would he sometimes stop by at the school when all the kids are going back to their houses to have a chat with you? It's not like he's the most friendly person either, so why would he bother with you, right? Right?

It sounds ridiculous– maybe a bit embarrassing, too. To let your brain convince you he might like you back. That you’re somehow special enough to break all of the barriers Joel has seemed to build up over the years to push people away. That you could steal his heart just like he has stolen yours. Well…there’s really no harm in fantasizing about all of that.

And yes, you sound completely delusional, but it truly feels like fate. You've never felt this way about anyone before, and you still struggle to comprehend how you ended up in this situation. How exactly did he manage to slip into your heart like it was nothing? Like it’s been waiting for him all along? One day you're shaking hands with a complete stranger and before you know it, you're unable to get him out of your mind.

But maybe you are delusional, and that's why you took extra time to get ready tonight in hopes of Joel noticing the efforts you've put in looking like this tonight. Perhaps he won’t notice. Perhaps he won’t even show up.

You keep walking, looking around for someone familiar enough to strike up a conversation. That’s when you notice Maria walking towards you, a grin on her face.

"Looking good," is all she says, her tone oddly suggestive.

You immediately feel self-conscious, trying to avoid eye contact as you clear your throat. "Thanks."

She could tell you started to feel nervous, so she immediately tries to be reassuring. "I really do mean it, by the way. I just couldn't help teasing you."

"Is it too much?" you ask, slightly panicking. “It is, isn’t it?”

"Absolutely not," she replies almost immediately, like you just said the most ridiculous thing she has ever heard. "Do you feel like it's too much?"

"Well...I don’t know, but I like how I look."

Maria smiles at that, nodding. "And that’s all that matters. If you like how you look then it's absolutely perfect." She takes a brief pause before leaning closer, smirking. "And I'm sure Joel will like it too."

"W-What?" you asked in shock, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "I don't–"

"Oh, please! Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You two always look at each other like you could quite literally start drooling at any second...heart eyes and everything. It's almost sickening," she comments in a playful voice, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I, uh..."

Before you can answer properly, you locked eyes with the one person you were expecting to see tonight. He has just entered the bar all by himself, looking a bit lost at first, brows slightly furrowed. Then, he notices you’re there at the party, and a soft smile immediately appears on his lips.

"Yeah, that's the look I'm talking about," Maria muttered, right before placing a hand on your shoulder as a way of saying goodbye. "See you later."

You immediately turn to look at Maria again, watching as she walks away to greet other people. Panic sets in when you realize you’re all by yourself once again. Not knowing what else to do, you look down at your hands, fingers nervously fidgeting, very much aware that Joel is walking towards you. It's ironic how the initial desire to be seen by him has somehow turned into the urge to become invisible. You've always been more confident in your head, definitely not anticipating what it would actually feel like to be here in this scenario and how you'd truly react.

His presence is practically overwhelming at this point, forced to look up at him now that he's standing before you. As you take a look at him, you can't help but notice he's done some effort tonight as well. His hair is brushed back and the nice smell of his cologne almost makes you want to lean closer to him.

"Hi." He's the first one to speak, making you that much nervous when you notice his eyes travel down your form. He clears his throat as soon as he realizes what he's doing, immediately looking up. "You look...you look great."

"Thanks, Joel," you reply, a soft smile on your lips. "I was wondering if you were gonna show up tonight, since these types of events are not really your thing..."

"Oh, yeah, well..." he shrugged, staying quiet for a few seconds while he tried to come up with something else to say. You could tell he was nervous, which made you smile even more as you waited for him to continue. "I guess I'm...trying new things. Step out of my comfort zone."

Before you could say anything, the two of you are interrupted when you hear someone nearby. "Dude, this is embarrassing to watch! I told you he's got no game!"

You turn around just in time to see Ellie and Jesse telling Dina to shut up. She giggles as she wraps an arm around the other girl that stands next to her, and her movements let you know she's had a lot to drink already.

Ellie and Jesse look embarrassed that they got caught eavesdropping, although you could tell Ellie is trying very hard to hold back her laughter. "Sorry," the guy says, looking at Joel with an apologetic look on his face.

That's when Dina realizes what's happening. "Whoopsie," she giggles again, dragging Ellie and Jesse away. "Sorry, Joel. Good luck!"

You can't help but laugh at the situation, watching the three of them walking away, noticing how Jesse's lecturing Dina while she keeps clinging to Ellie and trying not to stumble on her own feet.

When you turn back to look at Joel, you notice a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment on his face, barely able to even make eye contact with you anymore. "I'm so sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," you replied almost immediately, knowing you had to say something else to make the situation between you less awkward. "I believe they’re having a good time."

Joel smiles, watching as the trio walks off. "Dina definitely is," he points out. "Can't say the two babysitters look like they're enjoying themselves that much."

"Yeah, that's probably true. Poor kids."

There's a brief silence, not necessarily an awkward one, but you can tell he wants to say something else. Eventually, he speaks again. "How have you been?"

"Fine. I mean, just the usual. A lot of the kids wanted to have a bonfire soon to celebrate the new year, but I still haven't started planning all that. Maybe I'll ask some of the parents for help."

"Sounds fun," he says with a soft smile. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"You can be in charge of the hot chocolate."

The little joke makes Joel laugh. A true, genuine laugh that makes the butterflies in your stomach multiply. "Hey, if that'll make me useful, I'm in."

You can't help but keep smiling at him, feeling so incredibly giddy. Is this perhaps what Maria was talking about before? You probably have the exact same look she was describing earlier.

Almost as if you were in some cheesy romantic movie, the cheerful music drastically changed to a much slower tune, noticing a bunch of couples deciding to start dancing together. Joel seems to notice what's going on too, but doesn't dare to acknowledge it, silently watching a couple that walk past the two of you.

Hesitant at first, you eventually decided to test your luck. What’s the worst that could happen? "Would you like to dance?"

The question definitely took him by surprise, quickly turning back to look at you. "What?"

You had no problem repeating yourself, letting out a soft giggle. "I asked if you wanted to dance with me, Joel."

"I don't really–"

"You said you're stepping out of your comfort zone," you remembered, which makes him grin. His usual playful grin that makes you feel like a teenage girl developing her first crush all over again.

"That's really outside of my comfort zone."

Trying to encourage him, you reach out to grab his hand as you start walking towards the other people dancing. To your luck, he doesn't hesitate one bit as he starts walking with you. "I promise it's not as difficult as you probably think it is."

The two of you find a spot in between all the couples dancing and you turn around to look at him. Despite feeling incredibly nervous at this moment, you knew he probably feels even worse right now, agreeing to something you suggested that he probably hasn't done in years. It's only fair that you take the lead for now.

You could feel his body tensing slightly when you place both of his hands on your waist before placing yours around his shoulders. With a reassuring smile, you start softly swaying from side to side, hoping he'd follow your lead.

"See?" you say cheerfully when he immediately starts imitating what you're doing. "It's not difficult."

He nods swiftly, looking down at his feet. "I guess," he mutters, his extreme concentration to every single one of his movements making you laugh. "I don't want to step on your shoes," he says, letting out a nervous chuckle right after.

"You're not gonna step on my shoes," you reassured him, and that's when he finally looks back up into your eyes. "You're a natural."

He shrugs, looking slightly more comfortable now. "Or maybe I just have a really good teacher."

The comment makes you playfully roll your eyes. "And to think Dina had the audacity to say you have no game."

Joel laughs at that, shaking his head at the memory of that little incident that took place a few minutes ago. Rather than replying right away, you feel his hands move to the small of your back, gently pulling you closer to him. "So you disagree with her?"

"Maybe. I'm still not sure."

You can see something shifting in his demeanor, looking a lot more confident than ever before. He pulls you close until you're resting your chin on his shoulder, heartbeat rising when you feel his beard tickling your neck and his big, strong hands still firmly placed on your back.

"How about now?" you hear him whisper. In that moment, your knees could've easily given in and make you lose balance. He's really getting comfortable now.

You were unable to speak at first, simply hugging him tighter. A few people around you couldn't help but stare, probably intrigued by you and Joel's evident display of affection. Of course the possibility of a new couple forming in town would peak their interest, especially one so...unpredictable.

Joel's not necessarily a very approachable person, and he definitely looks quite intimidating. You, on the other hand, are known as the sweet kindergarten teacher all the little kids talk about with so much affection. It really is an unexpected pair.

Snapping out of it, you remember what Joel just asked you. "Now...I might disagree with her."

He chuckles against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Good," he says, right before moving back enough to lock eyes with you again.

You both dance together in silence, simply looking back into each other's eyes as you enjoy the proximity and undeniable chemisty. Like you have said in the past, it feels like fate. Somehow, in this doomed world, you were meant to find each other.

"You look so beautiful," he says out of nowhere, smiling down at you. "Early when I got here...I wanted to say you look beautiful."

"Great's also a nice compliment." He's still looking back at your first interactions tonight, feeling critical about his approach then. You didn't want him to feel like he did something wrong, or that he could've done things differently.

Joel nodded. "But that's not what I wanted to say," he insisted. "I'm sorry I was weird earlier. This whole thing is...it's just been a very long time since I've felt this way."

"And how exactly do you feel?"

He notices your little smirk, which inevitably makes him smile back at you, immediately noticing your playful tone. A few seconds later the smile on his face disappears, replaced by a serious expression. "Like I've finally found someone that makes me want to give love a second chance," he says, sounding incredibly sincere.

At first, you don't really know what to say, your heart instantly melting at his words. All you can do is smile, trying not to get visibly emotional, because this is truly fate. This all feels like it was meant to be. As crazy as it might sound, you can easily see yourself falling in love with Joel, spending as much time as this godforsaken world grants you next to him.

Last thing you wanted was to leave him hanging after what he said, quickly snapping out of your thoughts once again. "I think I'd like to give this a chance too."

You could see Joel's entire face light up after what you just said, like he has been waiting for you to say something along those lines. He presses you closer to him, right before leaning down for a kiss.

Sharing a kiss with Joel is exactly what you expected and just so much more at the same time. It almost feels like fireworks are exploding all around you, no one but the two of you existing at that moment. It's so sweet and gentle, yet so incredibly passionate. Is it possible to feel this much just with a kiss? Perhaps this is exactly what it feels like to connect with your soulmate.

As soon as you pull away, you could feel a lot more people staring at the two of you, but all you could really focus on is Joel. There's absolutely nothing else that matters more right now.

"I bet Dina doesn't think you've got no game now," you joke.

Joel quickly scans the room searching for the girl, smiling softly at something before looking down at you again. "I believe she's distracted right now."

Intrigued, you turn around to look in the direction Joel was just seconds ago, noticing Dina and Ellie dancing together. "I didn't know they were a thing."

"Me neither," Joel replied. "I mean, I knew there was something going on with Ellie...poor kid's awful at hiding her feelings. I wasn't sure if Dina liked her back, though."

"Well, it looks to me like she really likes her back."

Joel shrugs playfully. "Us Miller's, you know? We're kinda irresistible."

"Please, don't you ever say anything like that again," you laugh, immediately shaking your head. "It gave me actual chills."

He laughs back. "Sorry," he whispers, leaning in for a quick kiss as he stops dancing. "But you gotta admit it's true."

"Stop it," you warn him playfully.

"Fine." He stops himself for a few seconds, uncertain, before speaking his mind. "Uh, so I was thinking...it's movie night at the old theater tomorrow, so maybe we could go together."

"You'll get me popcorn?"

Joel looks offended by your question. "Of course."

"It's a date then," you reply. This time it's your turn to lean in for a kiss. It's like you could spend your entire life kissing this man. You're addicted already.

He nods in agreement, taking your hand to guide you out of the dance floor. You really didn't care where he was intending to go, you were just happy to get the chance to spend the rest of the party by his side.

[joelmillers-wife]

take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter eight

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: a quiet night in with joel and ellie wc: 3.8k THIS IS A SHORTER CHAPTER SORRY BUT I PROMISE THE NEXT LIKE 3 WILL BE LONG AND WORTH IT- this is the calm before the storm one might say… rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be eventual smut in later chapters  chapter warnings and tags: cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, fluff, reader has no description besides she has hair, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, sloooow burn ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

previous chapter | next chapter (coming soon)

VIII. TO BUILD A HOME

There is a house built out of stone Wooden floors, walls and window sills Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust This is a place where I don't feel alone This is a place where I feel at home

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?!”

You’ve never seen the way Ellie looks at Joel right now before, the way she speaks to him with so much malice in her voice. You have no choice but to nervously look between the two of them, sitting on opposite ends of each other—Ellie glaring and yelling at Joel in such an accusatory way. It scares you enough to sit in silence and simply watch the two of them hash out their frustrations.

“Ellie… I’ve been tellin’ you for the past twenty god damn minutes. All I have is seven draw 4 cards and two green cards, and you keep changin’ the damn color to blue. I don’t got no fuckin’ blue!”

“Yeah? Well I do! All I have is blue because you keep making me draw more fucking cards dude.” She lets out a frustrated huff before shaking her head and closing her eyes for a moment before continuing. “Who even shuffled this fucking deck in the first place?”

“You did!” You and Joel yell.

Ellie begins opening and closing her mouth, fumbling to find a response. “Yeah? Well… you guys shouldn’t have let me do that!”

The three of you sit around the coffee table set up in Joel’s living room while music plays softly in the background coming from the vinyl Joel had set up earlier in the night—snacks and drinks are scattered across the table, and each of you hold your own hand of cards. Ellie had found some old Uno cards at Maria and Tommy’s board game collection the other week, and thought it would be a fun idea for the three of you to play a round of Uno.

The “fun” part ended over an hour ago.

Nights like these have become a regular in the time that has passed since your injury. The following day, after Joel had stitched you up, word had gotten back to Ellie when a friend of Jesse’s had shared what had happened to you and him on patrol. That night, Ellie had knocked on your door and demanded she spend the evening hanging out with you, with Joel accompanying. You’d said yes, because since when have you ever been able to say no to her, and that first night was spent watching some movie the two of them seemed to always be watching—Curtis and Viper, the second one, specifically. From that day on, your days of the week were spent with Joel and Ellie more often than not. Trading between watching a movie, playing a board game, or making dinner and talking for hours, whether it was at your place or Joel’s.

You watch as Ellie puts down another draw 2 on your turn and you mutter out, “Oh my god,” looking at your own hand of cards that you had to lay out on the floor beneath your side of the table thirty minutes ago, because it was becoming too much to hold.

Grabbing your empty glass of wine, you move to stand up, throwing your other hand out in surrender. “Nope. That’s it. I’m done. If I pick up one more fucking red card, I’m gonna let the clickers get me.”

Receiving a dismissive reaction from the two of them, you walk into the kitchen to pour yourself your third—wait, no, fifth glass of wine for the evening. You let your eyes lazily pass over the kitchen island scattered with empty plates and glasses that you all had used over the course of the night. Heading back into the living room, you see the two people you have grown fond of still sitting there playing that god forsaken game. 

Joel stares at his own cards in intense concentration. You’ve always known he was stubborn, but tonight you learned he is also competitive. That wouldn’t be much of an issue, if it weren’t for the fact that Ellie, too, is both stubborn and very competitive. They both have taken the game much more seriously than you have—the two of them taking more time than you would think one would need on their turn to really figure out what the best play is.

Ellie groans. “Dude, can you just let me fucking win so we can end this shit?”

Joel shakes his head with a frown and a half-offended look. “Hell no I’m not just lettin’ you win, kid. You wanted to do this tonight so this is what we’re doing.”

The teenager throws her head back, letting out a sound that’s been a groan and a dramatic broken sob until she looks at you after calling your name. “Please, please make this end. Please make him stop, I’m begging you!”

Settling back down onto the carpet, you give her a small laugh before looking over at Joel. “Come on, Joel, she’s been through enough—we’ve been through enough of this. Just let her win.”

Joel gives you a look of betrayal as you side with Ellie, before you look at him desperately saying one more please. You watch as his resolve crumbles after only mere seconds of you pulling your best puppy dog eyes on him—the alcohol you’ve been drinking warming your cheeks and making you act more theatrical. 

Sighing out with a shake of his head and a muttered, “Unbelievable,” Joel throws his cards onto the table. “There, you win. Happy now?”

“But I didn’t get to say Uno!”

You can’t help but laugh as you mindlessly swirl the wine in your glass. Looking at Ellie incredulously, Joel groans and grits his teeth before asking her what colors and numbers she has, letting her put her cards down one by one before shouting, Uno, and slamming her final card down onto the deck. “Ha! I won!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, Joel lets out a sigh of relief at the game ending. You can’t help but giggle at his exhaustion, watching as he looks up at Ellie and points at her accusingly. “Low fuckin’ blow gettin’ her involved with your beggin’,” he says, turning his finger to point at you.

Ellie shrugs with a smirk. “Hey, I gotta do what I gotta do.”

Joel exasperatedly shakes his head, but you catch the soft huff of laughter he lets out under his breath. Looking over at the clock hung above his fireplace, he tells Ellie, “Alright, kiddo—it’s time for you to head to bed. I’ll walk you over to your room.”

Receiving only a few groans of reluctance from her, you say goodnight and goodbye to Ellie, watching as Joel walks her over to their backyard. A few months ago, Joel had cleaned out his garage and set up her own little space in there. Back when he first started working on it, he had said something about her recently turning seventeen and wanting to give her a better sense of independence without having her too far away so that he couldn’t keep an eye on her.

You take the time to clean up the mess the three of you had made—making sure that all the cards are back in the tattered old box, clearing the coffee table of your glasses and of any stray pieces of food that may have fallen to the floor. In the process, you take the time alone to really feel the effects of the red wine you’ve been nursing all night—your stomach feeling warm and your face flushed. 

You’re in the kitchen washing the empty wine glasses you and Joel had been drinking from, when you hear the back patio door open and Joel walks into the doorway. For a moment, he looks at you with a small smile as he leans casually against the doorframe. Once his eyes drop down to your hands in the sink, he walks over with a pout. “You don’t need to be doin’ that, darlin’.”

You look up at him as you rinse out the soap from the glasses. “Nah, I don’t mind. I happen to like washing dishes if you’d like to know.”

He raises an eyebrow at that before picking up the kitchen towel set on the counter beside the sink, and begins drying the now clean glasses. “Oh, really?”

Giving him a soft hum, you tease, “Sure do. Although, you wouldn’t know that because you never let me do any cleaning or maintenance myself.”

At that, he laughs. “Alright, touché. But it’s not like I don’t let you do those things…”

He trails off when he sees you give him a deadpan look. Laughing harder, he says, “I just like doin’ things for ya. Don’t want you to have to be doin’ anythin’ that I’m more than capable of myself—includin’ dishes. Besides, you shouldn’t be movin’ too much with your shoulder.”

You throw your head back with a soft, yet annoyed groan. “Not this shit again.”

It had been almost three weeks since Joel had stitched up your wound. Despite being a tad sore if you strain it for too long, your shoulder was completely fine. You felt fully recovered, yet Joel had still been convincing Maria and Tommy to keep you off patrol for a few weeks—giving you some tasks around town to keep you busy and get you moving enough for you to flex your muscles. But Joel was still worried over your injury. So much so that he insisted on coming over multiple times over the days to help you with meaningless household chores, or bringing you things from the market. The most you were able to convince him to allow you to do was going on walks around town with him to shop, which he only agreed as long as you let him carry any items you were to bring home.

You set down the clean dishes onto his side, turning the water off before turning your whole body to look at him. “Joel,” you say, waiting for him to turn to look at you before you continue. “I am fine. I promise. Perfectly healed and it doesn’t hurt at all anymore, see?”

You lift your now-recovered arm all the way up to prove a point to him, but the speed of which you did so made you lose your balance slightly and stumble.

Joel’s reflexes kick in as he reaches out to try and catch you if you need to, but you quickly catch yourself by leaning your hip against the counter. You look up to see him giving you a lighthearted glare, noticing your own body was disproving your point. 

“Okay…” you say. “That doesn’t count. I’m a bit tipsy so my balance is off.”

Joel looks back at the empty bottle of wine on the island behind him, before his eyes widen to find a second bottle next to it that is nearly empty. “How many glasses did you drink, darlin’?”

You look at the ceiling, squinting your eyes as if to act like you were thinking before answering him. “Um, only like two… or five,” saying the last two words in a whisper, hoping he doesn’t catch it.

His eyes widen further before he puts down the dishes he was drying and turns to face you directly, grabbing your upper arms with his hands gently. “Sweetheart, I think you’re a lil’ past tipsy, and it’s only now catchin’ up to ya.”

“Oh, so it’s ‘sweetheart’ now, too?”

You hadn’t expected to say that out loud, but your mind was too fuzzy to stop yourself, or to catch the way Joel’s cheeks redden at you calling him out—not being mentally present enough to think about what you were saying.

He sighs, shaking his head lightly and offering a small smile before beginning to guide you out of the kitchen. “Let me walk ya home, alright?”

Your body catches up to your drunk mental state, and you let yourself be led out by Joel. You walk by his staircase before you remember something. “Oh! I lent Ellie one of my sweaters—do you know where it is?”

He nods. “Yeah, should be in the closet upstairs. I’ll go look for it real quick.”

“I got it–”

He shakes his head at you. “Darlin’, I do not trust you to walk up or down any steps right now.”

You roll your eyes at him, already walking up a couple of stairs before you turn back to him at the bottom of the stairs—your body twisted to look behind you, one arm holding onto the railing as you lean in close to his face below you. “Oh, come on, I’ll have to do it when I get home so I might as well practice here. Besides, you’ll catch me if I fall, won’t you, Miller?”

Your face inches away from Joel’s own, you watch his eyes linger on you, briefly flicking around your face. An unreadable expression washes over him—one that, had you been a little more cognizant, and if your vision wasn’t blurred at the edges, might’ve made your heart stutter for a moment. 

His features soften after his scan over you before he lets out a word in a soft whisper. “Always.”

Giving a nod of approval, you dramatically bring down your hand onto the railing of the staircase and slowly make your way up the rest of the steps. What you don’t notice is Joel's hand that hovers on your back as he walks two steps behind you the whole time.

Only stopping three times to look at the paintings that adorn the walls along the stairs, you reach the top and spot three doors a few feet in front of you. The one on the right, closest to you is barely ajar, but to the left is an open door to what looks like a small closet space—a single rack of clothes drying, with a large bucket underneath them. 

You spot your sweater and walk over, checking that it was dry before removing it off the hanger. Looking to your left, you see a closed door—probably Joel’s room, you think. 

You turn, holding the sweater up with a thank you as Joel starts to take down some of the other clothes in there, placing them in a laundry basket that sits outside the closet and against the wall. 

Joel turns back to you. “Of course. Let’s get you to your bed now, alright?”

Beginning to lead you back over to the staircase, you look at that first door you saw that was partially opened. The realization that you hadn’t seen any of Joel’s personal space doesn’t hit you as you take a peek into the room, something in the corner catching your eye.

Your eyes wide at the sight. “Is that a guitar?”

Joel turns to see that the door to what you assume is some sort of office space is halfway open, and a guitar is in view.

You look at him with a surprised smile, eyes wide with excitement, and see his demeanor has become shy and almost child-like for a moment. Rubbing the back of his neck, he says, “Um… yeah that’s, uh, that’s mine.”

Noticing that his gaze has turned down to the floor, you realize you may have come off as mocking. In an attempt to correct your reaction, you place a hand onto his arm, bending your head down to meet his gaze. “Do you play guitar?”

At the contact, he looks back at you to see your face is filled with genuine warm curiosity. Bashfully, he responds, “Yeah, I know how to play a bit.”

Your smile grows as you ask how long. He still seems somewhat vulnerable while he says, “Been playin’ since I was a teenager, really. Didn’t get the chance much for the past couple decades obviously, but when I got to Jackson, Tommy gave me one he’d found. Took some time to tune properly and fix ‘er up but she sounds pretty damn good.”

Looking off to the side with a reminiscing gaze, he adds, “I actually used to want to be a, um… a singer.” The words leave his lips hesitantly, as if trying to feel out what your response would be.

“No shit,” you speak up, wonder and giddiness filling you. At your words, he looks at you slightly startled, as if he didn’t intend to share that detail out loud. “That’s so…” you shake your head, trying to find the words without making him feel embarrassed. “Just… really cool. I didn’t know you played guitar.”

He gives a sheepish smile at your reaction and words. “Yeah, I don’t talk about it much, or really at all. Promised Ellie I’d teach her how to play when we got to Jackson.”

The realization hits you suddenly. “Oh my god—I knew she played because she’d talk about it and I’d see her guitar in her garage. I never knew you were the one who taught her.”

You can no longer discern the warmness you feel to be due to the wine… or Joel.

Joel breathes out what sounds like a laugh before he looks around for a second, seeming to realize you are still standing at the top of the steps, and begins to guide you over to them to walk down. “I better get you home. You need all the rest you can get tomorrow, because the followin’ day is our first patrol back together.”

You almost stumble at the bottom of the steps, looking up to see Joel smirking. Jokingly, you say, “Has Jackson’s very own Dr. Miller deemed me fit to go beyond the gates again?”

Joel walks past you to open the door—the slightly chilled air of the late night hits you, making you shudder. At your words, Joel laughs as the two of you begin walking across the street to your front door. “Yes, he has. Figured I forced you to spend enough time with me here that maybe you’d like a more open scenery to combat my face.”

“Hey, I happen to like looking at your face.”

You did it again. Said your inner thoughts out loud without realizing. Thankfully, if Joel heard you, he doesn’t make a comment on it. When you reach your front door, you open it and expect to turn to see Joel hovering on your porch to say goodnight. Instead, hear his footsteps cross the threshold and feel the warmth of his body close behind yours. Slightly shocked, but not uncomfortable, you look up at him with confusion before he says, “Wanna make sure you make it up those steps and into your room safely, if that’s alright?”

A smile sheepishly curls at the corner of your mouth as you nod, walking up your steps with him following close behind until you reach your bedroom door. At that moment, Joel speaks up to say, “You get changed and settled for the night, I’m gonna be downstairs for a second.”

Confused, you nod anyway, too tired and out of it to try and figure out what he is doing. You make your way to your bathroom and close the door behind you as you splash your face with water quickly, before heading back into your bedroom to change into your pajamas for the night.

As you’re putting your t-shirt over your head, you hear a knock on your bedroom door and walk over to open it, revealing Joel standing there with a glass of water and a couple of white pills in his hand.

Holding them up, he says, “Figured you’re gonna have a pretty nasty hangover in the mornin’, so, got ya a glass of water and some pain meds for tomorrow. That way it’s right there on your bedside when you get up.”

The idea of Joel thinking ahead for you like that seems to sober you up in the slightest—just enough for your stomach to flutter and your cheeks to turn red. “Thank you, that’s so thoughtful,” you softly mutter as you grab the items and go to place them on your bedside table.

Joel shrugs off your thanks, as if it wasn’t a big deal to him. He looks behind him to your stairs briefly before back at you, saying, “You alright if I lock up behind me so you can go straight to sleep?”

After the incident a few weeks ago, which resulted in your door being broken down, you felt bad for worrying him. So, you offered to give him a spare key to your house in case he needed to get in due to anything bad happening. You felt good about the decision—trusting him enough to let him have open access to your private space in case of emergency. In return, he had given you a key to his place as well, saying at the time, “You come over anytime you need me, got it? Don’t care what time it is. You come to me for anythin’.”

You nod in response to him, assuring him you were set for the night. You stand there thinking for a moment, watching him begin to turn around and walk away, before saying, “Hey, Joel?”

He looks at you with a soft frown as he waits for your next words.

“Do you… do you think you could play guitar for me one day?”

His eyes widen in the slightest, small surprise covering his features as you assume he hadn’t expected that question out of you.

His silence makes you think you crossed some sort of line, causing you to look at the floor before you begin rushing out, “You don’t have to. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I know it’s probably a bonding moment between you and Ellie–”

“Sure.”

You look up to see a smile on his face and a look in his eyes that you can’t quite place—one similar to what you briefly remember seeing on the staircase at his house. Then, you notice his hand move from his side and look down to see him raise his right hand in front of you, extending out his pinky finger with a smirk on his face.

You stifle a laugh as you twist your lips to the side, bringing your hand to link your fingers together and shake. 

He drops your hand with a soft laugh. “You let me know if you think of any song requests, yeah?”

You match his smirk. “You got it, Miller.”

Joel turns his body around, heading out the room to walk downstairs before looking back at you one more time. “Sleep well, darlin’.”

“You too, Joel.”

Standing in your bedroom doorway, you watch and listen as he makes his way down your stairs, hearing him open and close the door behind him before you hear the soft sound of the lock turning.

You turn and walk over to your bed, settling in and laying down. Sleep finds you quickly as your dreams are filled with the sounds of a soft guitar playing.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! i hope you all enjoy <3 follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for updates!

a/n: sorry for the shorter chapter! I had grad school orientation yesterday that lasted 12 hours😵‍💫 and I had to spend the week doing all the modules lol. the next few chapters will be much longer, I promise. also some of my fav chapters coming up ;) 🏷️: @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @emmasveinyahhdih @thatoneperson38747 @lcvespedro @orodaeh @ithinkimokeei @emnull0 @warriorkarol @luvwanda @pascal-mynightlyobsession @grayandthyme @crlsummer @ashleyfilm @darling-imobsessed @tjohn63 (if i missed any tags pls let me know!)

[tobesolnelyx]

I was thinking about yj!reader who has some kind ED (if you're comfortable with that of course, but I don't want to be too specific to make it harder for you) and when she joined the team she managed to disguise her fainting as overworking herself, ou just because of the heat or any excuse possible. She will almost never come to their celebration after, always pretending that she has something to do, especially if it's like going to a restaurant. Maybe some of the girls were suspicious but nobody really said anything because reader was always brushing it off.

Then the plane crash happened and everything changed. They weren't living anymore, they were surviving. Everyone was scared, lost but most of all hungry. Rations were scarce so they tried to make it fair for everything by giving the same portions. Everyone was worried about their own survival, the wilderness that they didn't notice reader giving more of her potions to other people, sometimes vomiting behind a bush.

But Van, she was her closest friend on the team (and maybe had a crush on reader) and she was already worried before the crash but now it's worse. She regrets not asking reader about this before since now it seems impossible. But, still, she won't give up on her friend (or more) and maybe try to confront them. Maybe reader will brush it off again, especially since Van is cheerful and makes jokes, but this time Van doesn't let it slide because she noticed and won't let it happen. Like maybe she will stay with reader with meals to help her finish, trying to make her feel better.

Could be good material for angst, hurt/comfort and maybe fluff since Van would be the type of person to say cheesy things and dorky comments to cheer up someone

Thx for your work but don't overdo yourself either, take care <33

— forever winter || van palmer x yellowjacket!reader (pre-crash/wilderness) 🦊

a/n: so hey, i wanted to write here a few more sentences than usual. works like that are always challenging. not because the topic is rough. honestly, no matter how it’s going to sound, exploring tough, disturbing topics is always intriguing for me. it’s challenging cause by putting here attractive character, i might make this sound like “oh you just need a right person and you’ll get better.” which i can tell from my experience, doesn’t work. i tried to portray this in most realistic way, basing of what i saw and got through. if you’re struggling with ED — you’re not alone. there’s always someone who can help you. take care. ❤️‍🩹

warnings: eating disorders. anorexia— this work might be highly disturbing to some. standard yellowjackets warnings.

summary: you were struggling with ED your whole life. it's 90's, not like you can give it a proper name. neither people understand. but van at least try to be there for you. even in the middle of nowhere.

word count: around 2.8k

The summer that year was unbearably hot—and you didn’t take it well. But it wasn’t the day-long headaches that eased only in the evening that were the worst. Nor was it the swarm of mosquitoes, or the sweat clinging to your skin with little provocation. No, the worst thing by far was the exhaustion. And perhaps, in some cruel way, you had grown accustomed to it.

The hollow ache of an empty stomach folding in on itself, digesting nothing but its own walls, was no longer unfamiliar—it had become an inconvenience, a discomfort you accepted even if you never truly made peace with it. Your hair clung to your brush more often than not, your nails turned brittle and fragile over time. And then there were the shadows under your eyes—deep, yellowish bruises that spoke of more than sleepless nights. Aching teeth, chapped lips, peeling skin—these things, you could endure. You could survive them. Someone once told you that to be beautiful, you had to suffer. And you were just beginning to understand what that meant.

You could endure it all—if it weren’t for the exhaustion. The dehydration. The weakness in your limbs, as if every motion dragged behind it a leaden weight, as if your body itself resisted movement. Your mind, sluggish and slow, seemed to process thoughts through a thick fog. And no matter how hard you tried not to, your brain focused on one thing and one thing only: hunger. Perhaps it was a natural instinct. That didn’t make it any less infuriating.

That’s why soccer practice, especially in the summer, was pure torment. You’d signed up because you wanted to lose weight. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. A path toward the body you’d always dreamed of—like the models gracing the glossy pages of magazines you’d hoarded since childhood. This was supposed to be your chance to finally live in harmony with yourself.

And though you did lose weight, looking in the mirror didn’t make you feel much better. There was always too much of something, somewhere—something that didn’t fit, didn’t belong. You were always chasing the next thing to fix.

The only good thing about the heat was that it gave you an excuse. A convincing one. When you fainted, you could always blame the temperature. So when it happened again during practice, no one seemed particularly surprised. The problem was, it was happening too often. And while people may not have openly worried, they definitely started paying attention. Yes, the heat was brutal, and most of the girls thought practicing under the burning sun was torture—but none of them collapsed as often as you did.

Naturally, the questions began. Shauna and Natalie were always the first to reach you. Natalie would grab a water bottle without hesitation, pouring it over your face in an attempt to revive you, while Shauna, in her soft and steady voice, murmured reassurances: that they’d have you back on your feet in no time.

And then, as always, when the world began to make sense again, Van would be at your side. She’d already ripped off her goalie gloves—gloves that, for fuck sake, smelled even worse in the heat—and made sure you sat for a bit before returning to the field.

“Hey, again...?” she’d ask quietly, frowning with concern. She’d study your face so intently that sometimes you wondered if Van could see something you yourself couldn’t.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you’d say, drawing a shaky breath as you sipped from the bottle. “It’s just the heat. I’m definitely not built for…”

That was usually when Jackie showed up. She’d purse her lips, displeased that you’d passed out again, but she never commented on it. You never got the lecture other girls did. You always had the strange feeling that Jackie understood. There was something about the way she carried herself that made you believe she saw you more clearly than anyone else. Sometimes, you’d catch her in the bathroom wiping her mouth after coming out of a stall. Other times, you watched her steal fries off Shauna’s plate without ever ordering any herself.

“Van,” Jackie would say in that captain’s tone of hers, as she stood there watching you, “maybe take her to the locker room?”

For the briefest moment, something softened in her eyes—but it vanished as quickly as it came. Moments later, she was already rounding up the Yellowjackets like nothing had happened. Fainting had become part of the routine.

Still, you’d never been more grateful to Jackie. Getting changed by yourself was already uncomfortable. But changing in front of others made your hands tremble and your jaw clench so tightly your teeth ached for hours afterward. Even though Van always seemed to let her gaze linger on you a few seconds too long, somehow, changing in front of her wasn’t so bad. Not when she kept talking the whole time, unknowingly helping you push your thoughts away.

"Think you can stand?" she asked, raising her brows — but before you could even begin to answer, her arm was already around you, gently helping you to your feet. If she was surprised by how light you’d become, she didn’t say a word. Her fingers brushed against your ribs, and you recoiled as if scalded. You didn’t want Van to feel what you yourself had long since stopped accepting.

"I’m fine, really," you said. The world tilted slightly, black spots dancing at the edge of your vision. You blinked rapidly to chase them away. Van still caught your wrist, just in case you decided to go crashing face-first onto the field and end up worse than before.

She watched you the entire walk to the locker room — like she was afraid you might fall apart the second she looked away. You were fairly certain Van had begun to notice. Maybe she didn’t fully understand what she was seeing, or what it meant, but it was hard to ignore the fainting, the fatigue, and the fact that… she rarely saw you eat.

"You think you can manage changing on your own, or…?" she asked, flashing a goofy grin as she helped lower you onto the bench. "You know, I could help…"

She started off with confidence, but a faint blush crept over her cheeks — one that clearly had nothing to do with the heat. You let out a short laugh, feeling a sliver of tension slip from your shoulders even though your body still felt like paper.

"I’ll be okay, thanks," you waved her off gently. Van nodded, trying to mask the flicker of disappointment, and obediently sat beside you — though by the way she fidgeted, you could tell it was taking effort to keep even that small distance.

Van had always… felt something for you. At least that’s how it seemed. The lingering glances, the way she tried harder to make you laugh than anyone else, the way she always sat next to you during lunch in the cafeteria. It all pointed somewhere.

The problem was, maybe you didn’t want to fully acknowledge any of it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t feel the same. It was just… you couldn’t imagine what that would even look like. You couldn’t picture yourself in anything — let alone a relationship. And Van, for her part, had never pushed. Maybe because she wasn’t sure you even liked girls. The two of you had never quite met in the middle.

Now, she was watching you with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes — where concern lived instead. You had the sense she wanted to ask. Maybe about when you last ate. But the question never came. You turned away, focusing on untying your cleats.

"Hurry up before the whole royal court shows up," she teased, trying to make a joke. So you smiled — a small thank-you for the effort.

Van parted her lips slightly, her gaze drilling a hole into the side of your head. And for a brief second, you wondered if this wasn’t just a stupid high school crush.

Your stomach twisted, and this time it wasn’t from hunger.

The worst moments always came after a win. And okay, maybe that sounds strange, but that’s how it was. As part of the tradition, you’d all gather and head out somewhere—usually that one particular diner—to stuff yourselves with food. That’s why you always declined. It wasn’t even about whether you thought you’d earned it. You had played well. You’d done your part. Sometimes you were even tempted to go. You liked them. You wanted to be with them. Just a normal teenager.

But the fear of gaining weight was stronger.

Van was always the most persistent. She often turned it into a joke—sometimes grabbing you from behind and refusing to let go until you came up with some excuse, which she’d finally accept. Sometimes she tickled you, claiming she wouldn’t stop unless you said yes. In those moments, you almost felt normal. Almost—because the second you thought of a plausible excuse, guilt clenched your chest even harder.

You didn’t want to lie to her. Especially not when Van would wilt a little, nodding in quiet defeat. But Van wouldn’t understand. Not when even you didn’t.

“Next time, Van. I promise.”

But next time never came.

She’d tried a few times to invite you out. In her mind, she was asking you on a date. Even if you didn’t quite realize it at the time. Eventually, Van must have started to suspect the issue ran deeper. That’s why you said no. Every single time.

You rarely ate. You always shook your head when she offered you a granola bar or a can of Coke, even though the smell made your stomach twist, and for a fleeting second, you wanted to give in. Van was hard to say no to. But the voice in your head was harder.

“You’re wearing yourself out,” Van had said once in the locker room. You shrugged. If she thought it was just the murderous practices, fine. That was better than being seen as the freak who starved herself.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Just a weak immune system. I just need to catch up on sleep.”

You repeated it like a mantra. And though Van always looked like she wanted to argue—wanted to say even a blind person could see something was wrong, that no one else fainted as often as you did, or lost focus mid-practice—

She didn’t.

Of course, it started to affect your game—your endurance, your reaction time. Others noticed. They asked questions. But they always ran into your laugh, that wall of forced nonchalance.

“Everything’s fine. Just school. Parents. Tired, that’s all...”

They bought it. At first, they squinted, unsure. But eventually they nodded. Maybe they didn’t want to know the truth. Maybe it was too ugly to start poking at.

Jackie was the only one who never asked. Shauna and Taissa seemed like they knew, but didn’t know how to reach you. Natalie and Lottie had too much chaos of their own.

But Van wanted to know. She wanted to help. To fix it. Maybe because she wore the mark of a child of an alcoholic, and she needed to save you before it was too late. Before what happened to her mother happened to you.

But she was scared. And she didn’t know where to start.

And then everything—if such a thing was possible—got worse. The plane crashed on the way to Nationals.

For the first time in your life, hunger began to truly torment you. Especially since you couldn't suppress it with something as simple as chewing gum. All you had left was water, and that did the worst job of fooling your brain. For the first time, you learned what it meant to vomit from hunger. Sure, you'd made yourself throw up before—had even become skilled at it—but nothing prepared you for the convulsions that overtook you now.

Everyone was terrified, too focused on the simple fact that they had to survive on their own to notice you weren’t eating. There was no longer the luxury of feeling full. You hadn’t experienced it in a long time, so you figured you were the best equipped to deal with starvation. To be useful, you began secretly giving your rations to others.

You even volunteered to help Shauna distribute the portions. At first, it was harder. Shauna talked with you about anything and everything just to distract herself from slicing the meat that used to be a deer. In the fall, when Jackie was still alive and there was enough food to hush the growling in everyone’s stomachs, Shauna had carefully divided the rations.

Things changed drastically with the arrival of winter. When Jackie was swallowed by the biting cold, the rest started to believe in strange wilderness bullshit that you didn’t even want to understand. Even Van got involved. You didn’t comment—at least she had something to keep her mind occupied. At least she thought less about the hunger.

It became easier to pass on your portions. Shauna paid less attention, or maybe she simply no longer cared. It was hard to blame her. She hadn’t wanted you to help her in the first place, but eventually, you managed to convince her. Not that she was thrilled.

You told yourself this was how you helped. That someone else would eat more, that someone else would make it to tomorrow. You repeated that you were the best person to sacrifice in this way. That you were better at managing the hunger. No matter how tempting the dripping stew meat looked.

The vomiting got worse. And maybe you couldn’t eliminate the awful, omnipresent hunger that reigned in the cabin, but you convinced yourself you were doing something. And in a place like this, it was hard to hold on to any sense of purpose.

Life had turned into survival. Into slow days spent inside the cabin, while outside, the cold and snow swallowed everything up to your ankles. You were convinced you wouldn’t last much longer.

But Van had no intention of watching you waste away. Because, as always, Van noticed. She noticed there was slightly more meat in her bowl. She noticed you looked worse than the rest. Too thin even for these brutal conditions. Suddenly, Van regretted not asking sooner. She should have asked sooner. She should have pushed harder. Even if she wasn’t sure what exactly she was dealing with. How was she supposed to bring it up now? In these conditions, when everyone was starving?

So Van decided to act. She didn’t think confronting you would do any good. She was afraid she’d scare you off if she brought it up directly. Besides, you could easily lie your way out of it—just like you had countless times before the crash. If it had been easy then, it would be even easier now.

Action seemed like the better option. She had plenty of time to think in the awfully quiet, freezing cabin. She swore she’d keep you alive. Maybe she felt something more for you, but above all, she was your friend. And she wasn’t about to let you martyr yourself to death.

So one day, she set aside part of her meal and dropped down beside you. The floorboards creaked beneath her weight and you stared at her with wide eyes when she offered you a bowl filled with a few pieces of meat. Your gaze darted between the food and her. You blinked. Once. Twice. Van just smiled and placed the bowl in your lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I thought we could eat together," she said, popping the first bite into her mouth. Your eyes seemed glued to the tiny bowl resting on your legs, as if eating it would poison you. So Van did what she did best—she talked.

"I know this might not be your dream date," she joked, watching you. "It’s not mine either, but it’ll have to do for now, right?" She laughed softly. Then she paused, reading the look on your face, and cleared her throat. Quieter now, with that gentle smile she saved only for you, she added:

"I’d like... to take you out for a soft pretzel in New York someday." She confessed it softly, and finally, your eyes met hers. Your hands, driven more by survival instinct than will, clutched the bowl. Van pretended not to notice. She hoped that messed-up will to live would be enough to get you to eat. "A real date," she finished.

She said it out loud. No more jokes. She figured they could all be dead tomorrow anyway, and she might be wasting her last chance. There were already too many unspoken things between you.

"Van..." you croaked, but she shook her head. Maybe that could wait. First, she needed to make sure you’d eat. Something. Anything.

"Will you eat with me?" she asked, and it was as if you remembered the bowl again. "I can help you..."

Van was ready for rejection. She truly expected you to refuse. What she didn’t expect was for you to take the bowl in your trembling hands and inhale the aroma.

Turned out, that one time, survival instinct was stronger. Van quickly set her own bowl aside and took yours gently. You were so weak she doubted you could even feed yourself.

So that night, she fed you. Bite by bite, heart pounding loudly in her chest. She made sure you chewed everything properly, and stopped offering food when you said you’d had enough. She didn’t want to risk making you sick. Her hands trembled too, though not like yours. She kept talking, telling you the plot of the first movie that came to her mind.

When you were done, she wiped your mouth and slumped beside you, finishing her own portion. You hadn’t eaten everything. But you’d eaten something. And for now, that had to be enough. Now she had to figure out what movie to tell you about next time.

[minnesota-fats]

DC x DP fic Master Post

The Tearing of Heartstrings. Jason wakes up in a windowless tiled cell with a kid that turns out to be Tim’s boyfriend. (Body Horror, human experimentation, dehumanization of characters, happy ending (at some point)) Here

Bird Buddies. Danny works at the Justice League watchtower in its early days. Eventually he gets a traffic light colored duckling following him all over the place. Who knew it would grow from there? (Lore heavy, family feels, Ghost King Danny, BruDanny, Slow burn) Here

Starstruck. After a few centuries of being the Ghost King, Danny finally decides to take a vacation. Too bad the mortals in this realm keep sticking their noses into his business. (Secret Santa, Forever young danny, ghost king danny) (finished) Here

Grieving Makes You do Stupid Things. The aftermath of Jason’s death hits Bruce hard. One night he finds evidence of cult-like behavior, trying to summon the ghost king. He puts an end to it quickly only to be approached by two “scientists” claiming they had wanted to study the ghost king who only comes to those who are grieving. (Grief, death of a kid mentioned, Ghost King Danny) Here

He’s a Spectre. Hal Jordan waking up in the Ghost Zone and becoming the Spectre. He then follows the voice of Aztar to Amity Park. (Ficlet, implied BruHal) (finished) Here

Snow Bat. Bruce and Danny meet pre Batman and the rest is history. (BruDanny, miscommunication, slow burn) Here

Hey, Who is Damian? Ellie comes to Danny after she starts having dreams of Danny’s memories, all of it seems pretty self explanatory until she had blurry visions of an identical boy named Damian Al Ghul. (Description of panic attacks, mentions of child death, Dani goes by Ellie, twin au) Here

Farshee. Danny becomes a lounge singer at the Iceberg Lounge, Hannah Montana style. (TimDanny, miscommunication, mythology, lore, meet-cute) Here

Back Before the Fall. Danny hates christmas, and this Christmas he thought things were going to be different. He was wrong. So now he has to go back in time, following Pariah Dark who is possessing Darksied. (TimDanny, Major Character death(Spoilers, they get better eventually), i might rewrite this one but idk) Here

Of Ghosts and Bindings. Bruce is used as a tether to summon the ghost king and is hurt in the process. Danny not knowing what to do with the pretty man that passed out in front of him takes him to his haunt, too bad that counts as him accepting “bond” with Bruce. (BruDanny, miscommunication, accidentally Married, lore, ghost king Danny) Here

Haunting Greif. Danny lost everything, his friends, his family, his admittedly favorite teacher, his home, everything. He wasn't going to let the path he was destined for happen. So he fights tooth and nail to be placed anywhere other than with Vlad. Danny ends up living with an estranged uncle who is the police commissioner in Gotham City. (Eventual TimDanny, bad end for TUE episode, grieving) Here

The Dynamic Duo of Gotham Academy. Ellie meets Damian Wayne and mistakes his standoffishness as him being shy. She is determined to make him her best friend. (Secret Santa, one shot, Home Alone style antics) (finished) Here

Lost and Found. Danny finds Jason in the Ghost Zone after he died in Ethiopia. He comforts him and they grow close. (eventual DannyJason, major character death (is it really when the main character is a ghost?), depictions of panic attacks) Here

Spirit of Gotham (and Her Apprentice). Jazz goes to Gotham University and meets a weakening City Spirit that asks her to take her place because she is fading. Jazz agrees but is trying to figure out a way to revive the fading spirit. (Eventual JazzJason, jazz fenton centric) Here

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Beautiful Monster

Monster!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Word count: 910

Summary: Wanda messing with the darkhold might have gone a bit too far, but you don't seem to mind one bit.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, mommy kink, power play, mild breathplay (hand on throat). power imbalance, possessiveness, emotional dependency, obsession, magical corruption, transformation, Monster!Wanda imagery and non-human features during intimate scenes, canon divergence post-Westview

Authors notes: I was sent a tiktok by @scarlethexelove and then said like two things to her about it and here we are. Enjoy~

“I’m not a monster Stephan, I’m a mother.”

You remember those words clear as day. You’d followed Wanda since the Westview incident. Everyone else in town hated her for what she did, but not you. She’d given you purpose in that hex. So when she tried to fly off you ran towards her. Grabbed out for her. She looked down at you with what most probably saw as menacing, but not you. Not when you looked up at her with such a need and she could read your mind. So she took you. 

You thought she’d give up eventually on getting back her boys. The ones you’d ‘babysit’ in the hex. She didn’t though. It consumed her whole, right before your very eyes until one day you heard an explosion of her magic, felt it pulse through you and made you nauseous. You ran to her in the basement where she’d hole away with the darkhold. 

You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw her. Her wimple had melted into her, becoming a part of her. Leaving her now glowing red orbs for eyes behind a cage. The tips of the wimple protruded out; now instead of two there were four points and they now resembled horns like a demon. Her fingers were longer and more claw-like, you couldn’t tell where her nail ended and flesh began. The familiar black tipped fingers you'd become accustomed to seeing now held red in them. A more crimson than scarlet color like her namesake. Her skin was paler than before and her lips stuck out looking like she’d worn black lipstick the day before and it hadn’t quite come off. 

“M-mama…?” Your voice shook. You were worried she’d been fully consumed this time. It was a nightmare of yours that she’d forget you wholly if the darkhold consumed her too much. 

Her head slowly tilted, you could see the orbs narrow like she was pinpointing who you were. Then she looked down at her hands, slowly wiggling her fingers in a wave pattern. She was adjusting. “I’m here baby.” Her voice was different, deeper, a whisper of an echo to it. 

You surged forward knowing it was still her, cupping her face and surprising her. A smile on your face as tears pricked at your eyes before falling over with your words, “I thought I’d lost you.” You squeaked out, a crackle to your voice. Her hand reached up, a long finger curled to wipe the tears. 

“I’m not leaving you. I just needed more power, but now I’m exactly what they all think I am…a monster…” You held her face a little tighter. Fingers brushing over the bumps and ridges of the wimple that seeped into her skin. 

“You’re beautiful Mama. Always beautiful. Not a monster.” You manage out before leaning forward, letting your lips crash into hers. She wrapped around your waist, holding you close like she might lose you if she doesn’t hold you so tight. 

She deepens the kiss, pushing back against you and pushing her tongue into your mouth. It feels different too, longer, slimmer. You moan into her as she backs you against the wall. One hand found your throat, the other slid down your front, pushing past your waistband as she pulled back from the kiss. A gasp came from you as the tips of her fingers hit your wetness. Your eyes finding hers, a smirk on her face making you go flush. 

“So wet for me Milaya…I’m not sure you’ve ever been this wet before. Do you like Mommy like this?” Her voice husks against you, wrapping you up and causing a fog over you. You nod,but that just gets you greeted with her hand leaving your throat to smack you. “Words.” 

“Yes Mommy!” You cry out, squirming under her touch and clenching around nothing before two fingers are slipping inside of you. “A-ah…Mommy…mmm” 

“Good girl. You can take Mommy so well can’t you? You’re made for Mommy no matter what form she takes.” Her hand is back on your throat, voice whispering in your ear. “Do Mommy’s fingers feel good? I bet they’re hitting so deep.” She drawls out the last word as she curls her fingers into your spot. Making you moan out and buck your hips forward. Your hips keep moving with her fingers. She can feel you tightening and hear your thoughts. She knows how close you are. “Look at me baby.”

You do as told and look up at her. Your eyes are dark and glazed over. You wouldn’t even be able to disobey her words if you wanted to, which you don’t you never would. 

“Cum for Mommy. Now.” It’s the way her voice sounds, like you have no choice. Even if you weren’t close you’d have fallen over the edge at them. 

Your whole body shook, you gripped onto her as moans and whines poured out your mouth. You never stopped looking at her though. Not once as the waves washed over you. She was too beautiful. She always was, but something about how she was right now just gave you pause and you never wanted to stop looking.

“Such a good girl for me.” Her movements slowed until she took them out, licking them clean and giving you a better view of her tongue as it wrapped around her fingers. You bit your lip subconsciously and she smirked. 

“Let’s continue this in the bedroom darling.” 

[nephynes]

now we need a pt.2 where she tells sunghoon that she stopped taking pills and then all hell broke loose

it really did need a part 2 (just with a little twist)

MDNI

part 1 here

══════════════════════════

You noticed the first time when the pack only had three left. It was a quiet morning, you were still tucked in your sheets, barely awake, your body sore in that sweet way that meant he'd had you up against the wall the night before. He was still asleep, arm flung lazily over your waist, head nuzzled into your neck like always.

And you remembered.

You blinked at the tiny foil circles on your nightstand and whispered, "Hoonie, can you go by the pharmacy this weekend? I'm running low."

"Mhm," he hummed into your skin, lips brushing your shoulder. "I'll go tonight."

It didn't seem like a big ask. He always got them for you. The pharmacy was one town over, weird prescription rules, out-of-stock chains nearby but he never complained. If anything, he insisted on doing it. Said he didn't like the idea of you going alone. Said he wanted to be the one taking care of you.

You liked that. You really liked knowing he was the one who kept you safe. That he knew your cycle better than you did. You never questioned it.

Until it started happening again.

You brought it up two days later. Then again three days after that. Each time, his answer was the same — a little nod, a "don't worry, I'll get them," followed by a kiss to your forehead or a squeeze of your thigh, and that was that.

But the pills never came.

And now you're sitting on the floor of your shared bedroom, blanket wrapped around your waist, legs trembling from how hard you just came against your own fingers and nothing feels like enough.

Your body's hot, worse than usual this time. Your nipples ache, your thighs twitch, and your skin feels like it's crawling with need. The kind of need only he can fix. And you already know why.

Because it's day 14 of your cycle, you're not on the pill.

You're ovulating and you’re sure he knows it.

You stare blankly at the empty blister pack in your palm. The pale blue foil catches the light, mocking you.

Something's off. You know it. He hasn't forgotten. Sunghoon doesn't forget. He's meticulous, always ten steps ahead, always watching over you, always running that hand down your back in bed and whispering, "You're safe with me, baby. I've got you."

You're not scared. Not really. But something coils tight in your chest as you pad out into the living room and see him on the couch, lazy in sweats, one hand resting on his chest, the other on his phone.

He looks up the second he hears your footsteps.

"Hey," he says gently. "You okay?"

You hold up the empty pack, voice tight. "You still didn't go."

He doesn't say anything right away.

Just sets his phone down.

Sits up.

"I meant to," he offers. "I just... forgot again."

You stare at him. Waiting for a smirk. A tell. Something. But all you see is that calm, steady gaze, the same one he gives you when he's watching you undress. Or when you're riding him and don't realize he's memorizing every whimper.

"You don't forget," you whisper.

He sighs.

Runs a hand through his hair.

"No," he says finally. "I don't."

The words hit you like a pin drop in a silent room.

You blink. "So... you didn't forget?"

His throat bobs. He leans back slowly, knees spread, eyes on you like he's already imagining you falling to them.

"I kept meaning to. But the longer I didn't... the harder it was to go."

You don't move. You don't breathe. Because you're starting to understand.

"You knew I was almost out."

"I knew."

"You knew I'd ovulate this week."

He nods.

"And you didn't go."

He doesn't answer.

The air turns heavy. You can feel it pressing down on you. All that need swirling low in your belly flares — not just arousal now, but disbelief, betrayal, want. So much want you think it might break you.

You cross the room slowly, blanket still wrapped around you, and straddle his lap without a word. His hands don't move. Not yet. They sit at your hips, thumbs stroking your skin softly, reverently.

"Tell me why," you breathe.

He looks up at you like you already know the answer.

"Because I wanted you like this," he says, voice hoarse. "Wet. Needy. Desperate."

You let out a shaky breath. Your body's already betraying you, pressing into him, grinding slow circles against the half-hard bulge in his pants.

"That's fucked up."

"I know, baby." He sighs out the words, "I didn't want to."

There's a snap in the air between you. Like something invisible just cracked clean in half.

"You wanted this," you whisper.

He doesn't even pretend to lie.

"I did."

You stare at him, stunned. Heat surges down your spine, your core clenching without permission, like your body's already made the decision your mind hasn't caught up with yet.

Sunghoon notices.

Of course he does.

His hands slide up under your shirt, slowly dragging the hem higher until it rests above your hips, baring your soft thighs in his lap. He breathes in sharply when he sees there's nothing underneath.

"Fuck."

You shouldn't do this. You know you shouldn't but you feel too full of want, too fogged with hormones. You should get up. You should fight him.

Instead, you lean in, grip his jaw with both hands and kiss him so hard your teeth knock. He groans, mouth opening under yours, tongue sliding in deep, desperate. His hands clamp down hard on your hips and pull you flush against his cock, grinding you over him once, twice, until you're gasping.

"Let me," you beg against his lips. "Let me ride you. I—I need it."

His eyes flutter shut. His voice comes out strangled.

"Fuck, please don’t say that."

"I do."

"You don't."

You rock against him again, dragging your bare cunt over the thin fabric of his sweats, soaking him through. He bites back a moan.

"I'm not wearing a condom," he warns, but his hands are already tugging your shirt off, dragging it over your head.

"You never put one on."

"I haven't replaced your pills."

"I know."

He freezes.

His eyes search yours, mouth parted, breath uneven.

"Say it again."

"I know I'm not on the pill," you whisper, trembling. "I know what I'm doing."

His voice breaks.

"Fuck—"

In a second, he's lifting you, maneuvering you under him, kneeing the sweats down just enough to free himself. His cock slaps up against his stomach, thick, hard, flushed red and leaking at the tip and you whimper at the sight of it, eyes wide.

He doesn't tease. He doesn't drag it over your folds or play with you like he usually does. He just lines up and presses in, slow, steady, impossibly deep.

You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders. He groans low in your ear, arms caging you beneath him, breath ragged.

"God, you're always so tight—"

You're already clenching around him, your walls fluttering from the stretch. He holds himself still once he's fully inside, trembling.

"I shouldn't," he pants. "I know I shouldn't. But you feel so fucking good." “Doesn’t matter how many times I fuck your needy little cunt op—” “Oh fuck! Baby stop clenching.”

"Don't stop," you plead.

He pulls out halfway, then slams back in.

You choke on a moan.

He does it again.

Again.

Harder.

"You feel that?" he growls, voice guttural. "That's me, filling you raw."

You sob, nodding.

"And you're gonna let me, aren't you?" His hand cups your jaw, forces you to look at him. "You're gonna let me stay inside. Gonna take everything I give you."

"Sunghoon—"

"You want me to cum in you?" he asks, eyes wild. "Want me to fill you up and not pull out?"

You cry out something that sounds like yes. Or maybe please. You don't know anymore.

He groans a dark, possessive sound and fucks into you harder, deeper, panting between words.

"I'm gonna ruin you. You know that, right?"

You whimper, nodding frantically.

"You're mine," he growls. "And if I get you pregnant... good."

You moan, high and wrecked, your back arching as he drills into you.

"Good," he repeats, snapping his hips forward. "You were made to take me like this."

His hand slips between your bodies, finds your clit and rubs tight circles until your legs shake, and that's it, the pressure explodes, white-hot and overwhelming, your orgasm tearing through you like a dam breaking.

Sunghoon curses under his breath, buries himself to the hilt, and finally gives in knowing he’s made you cum, he moans your name as he spills into you, hot and deep and endless.

He doesn't pull out.

Not for a long time.

Not even when you start to come down and blink up at him, dazed and dizzy, your thighs still twitching around him.

He just kisses your temple and mutters, "We'll talk about pills later."

══════════════════════════

• a/n: well sunghoon’s definitely gonna be a daddy now 🤷🏽‍♀️

[b1eedthefreak]

cocky rick x girly reader who literally just eats it up? likeeeeee yes he’s aware that she watches him all the time and is like amazed by anything he does cuz he just looks damn good doing it and god forbid a girl indulge? he knows he’s the shit and she doesn’t mind letting him knowwww (little does she know he feels the same way abt her🥹)

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Sheriff

⌇rick grimes x girly!reader

⌇summary: you watch rick like it’s your full time job, he doesn’t mind at all

⌇warnings: suggestive…

⌇word count: 1.9k

a/n SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY HERE I COME RICK (i hope this is what you had in mind anon i loved writing this!!)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❀ ⋆｡˚ ˚｡⋆❀

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Rick Grimes had no right looking THAT good elbow deep in a vegetable patch.

It was a perfect Alexandria afternoon, not because of the blue sky or the cicadas hummin. No, it was the sun beating down just enough to get a little sweat going on him. And there he was, kneeling in the dirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms flexing as he pressed tomato plants into the soil. His curls were damp, clinging to his forehead, and every now and then, he’d stop to swipe at the sweat with the back of his hand, mouth set in that same serious line like this was the most important thing in the world.

And you?

You were perched right there on your porch swing, sundress flowing, legs crossed pretty, unapologetically staring.

Because God forbid a girl indulge.

He knew it too. Every so often, he’d shift just so, leaning into the stretch, rolling his broad shoulders back, giving you the perfect view. Like he was saying, Go on. Take a good look.

And oh, you were.

Truth be told, this wasn’t the first time he’d done it.

Your mind wandered, unprompted, to all the other times Rick had caught you lookin’.

Like last week, when he’d been fixing the gate, shirt riding up just enough to show off that stupid, unfair slice of toned stomach. You’d passed by, innocent as could be, and offered him a sweet little “Need any help Sheriff?”

And he’d smirked, leaned back with his arms crossed, blatantly flexing. “You know how to handle a wrench darlin’?”

Didn’t even give you a chance to answer before adding, “Course you do. Got a feelin’ you’re real good with your hands.”

You’d damn near combusted.

Or two days ago, when he’d caught you eyeing his holster as he geared up for patrol. You weren’t even trying to be subtle. Something about the way that leather hugged his hips had your brain absolutely useless.

Rick had noticed. Oh, he’d noticed.

“Careful now,” he’d drawled, leaning in just enough to make your heart stutter, “keep lookin’ at me like that, you’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

And you, shameless, had batted your lashes right back.

“Maybe I like trouble.”

The grin he’d given you? Smug. Cocky..

So now, watching him play house with his precious tomatoes, it was no surprise that he was well aware of your attention.

“You appear to be observing Rick with what I’d categorize as unrestrained admiration.”

The sudden voice nearly made you jump out of your skin.

“Jesus Eugene!” you laughed, hand to your chest. “Where’d you come from?”

“I was merely conducting perimeter checks for wildlife breaches,” he said, shifting awkwardly on his feet, oblivious to how loud he was. “However, it would seem your surveillance efforts are of a more… hormonal variety.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry, what now?”

“You’re staring,” he clarified. “Quite blatantly, I might add. To what do you attribute this persistent fascination? Is it his facial symmetry? His leadership qualities? Or perhaps the primitive appeal of physical labor?”

You stared at him, mouth twitching.

“Eugene,” you said sweetly, “just look at him.”

Eugene squinted. “While I acknowledge his practical skillset, I fail to perceive the aesthetic allure. But then again, I am not a female, nor am I predisposed to such reactions.”

You couldn’t help it. The laugh bubbled up before you could stop it.

“You ever heard that saying?” you grinned, eyes sparkling. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy?”

Eugene looked genuinely perplexed. “I am unfamiliar with that idiom. Is this a transportation alternative or a sexual innuendo?”

You nearly wheezed.

But just as you doubled over in laughter, hand over your mouth, you caught it, a shadow shifting, a certain weight of a gaze. Slowly, you glanced sideways.

And there he was.

Rick, standing, one hand on his hip, the other dragging sweat from his brow. His lips quirked, just a little, catching you red handed.

Your laugh died immediately.

“Oh—hi Rick.” You cleared your throat, sitting up straight, suddenly very interested in adjusting the hem of your dress. “Nice… dirt. Looks good.”

Smooth. So smooth.

Rick didn’t say anything, but the way his lips twitched said plenty. He went back to work without missing a beat, smug as anything.

Eugene, blissfully unaware of your humiliation, just nodded. “I shall leave you to your continued voyeurism,” he announced, and shuffled off toward the gate.

You sank back against the swing with a groan.

A few hours passed.

You’d busied yourself with odds and ends, anything to distract from how flustered you’d gotten over a damn man planting tomatoes. But when you wandered back outside, curiosity tugging you like a string, you weren’t surprised to see him still there.

Still working.

Still looking unfairly good doing it.

Only this time, you came prepared.

You padded across the yard, water bottle in hand, sundress swishing at your knees. His back was to you, and you took a moment to appreciate the view. The broad set of his shoulders, the way his jeans hung low on his hips, dusty boots planted firm in the dirt.

“You’re gonna wear yourself out sheriff.”

His head lifted, but he didn’t turn.

“I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” You grinned, offering the water. “But even fine cowboys need a break.”

That made him turn.

He took the bottle from you, fingers grazing yours , hot, rough, deliberate. His eyes dragged down your figure, slow and lingering, before meeting your gaze again with that infuriating little smirk.

“Been watchin’ me all day, haven’t you?”

No point denying it now.

“Maybe.” You tilted your head, lip gloss catching the sunlight. “Can you blame me?”

He chuckled, low and warm, unscrewing the bottle cap.

“Ain’t complainin’.” He took a long drink, throat bobbing, making a show of it. “Just curious how long you’re gonna look before you do somethin’ ‘bout it.”

Your breath hitched.

He stepped closer, heat rolling off him, smelling like earth and sweat and soap. His free hand lifted slow, giving you every chance to stop him, and brushed a stray hair from your cheek, fingers lingering just like before.

“I don’t mind givin’ you somethin’ to look at darlin’,” he said, voice soft. “But you oughta know, I been lookin’ right back.”

You swallowed. “You have, huh?”

He hummed, tipping the bottle to you in a mock toast. “Ain’t no crime to look.”

You smiled, heart racing.

“Well then, Sheriff,” you said, stepping just a little closer, “guess we’re both guilty.”

And the way his eyes darkened, the way his jaw flexed like he was holding himself back, you knew this little game wasn’t gonna stay innocent much longer.

But for now?

For now, you let him go back to his tomatoes, smug.

And you? You sat yourself right back on that porch swing.

Watching.

Indulging.

Like the little troublemaker you were.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❀ ⋆｡˚ ˚｡⋆❀

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[angellily920]

Fake It Till You Break My Heart (Pt.1)

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky x reader (Fake Dating AU! Enemies to Lovers!)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: none

Part 1

A/n: I needed to get back into some Bucky. Inspired by The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas

"I'll be your date to the wedding."

The words hung in the air like a ticking time bomb. You would know that deep voice from anywhere. Your shoulders tensed up, and you didn't dare look behind you. The silence was almost painful. You stared at your half-eaten doughnut. The deep voice spoke from behind you again.

"If you need someone that badly, I''l go."

Your eyes drifted to Yelena, with whom you had conversed two seconds before. "Is he really there? Or am I just imagining things?"

Yelena's eyes drifted behind you before meeting yours again. "He's right behind you." She plastered on a smile and looked at the man behind you. "Hey, Bucky."

A soft grunt was heard behind you, but you still didn't bother turning around. "Yelena." His greeting was flat. He exhaled, a hint of which gently caressed your back. His voice came out in a deep rumble. "Do I need to repeat myself a third time?"

You took another bite of your doughnut nonchalantly. Ignoring him was good. Maybe if you pretended he wasn't there, he would disappear. He had no right cutting into your conversation. Especially since he hated your guts. And that was putting it lightly. Perhaps abhor was a better word? Either way, you couldn't believe the words that had come out of his mouth. He of all people, volunteered to go with you. He exhaled again, this time a little louder. You could hear his metal fingers clinking together softly as he opened and closed his fist.

"Alright, fine. I'll be your date to your sister's wedding."

You sat straighter in your chair. He would be your date? Yeah, that screamed trouble. You looked at Yelena and burst out laughing. Where did that idea pop out of? Your shoulders shook softly as you laughed. He grunted behind you.

"What's so funny?"

You snicker again. You still haven't turned around to meet his gaze. "Oh wow, you actually are funny. And here I thought you were only hard frowns and judgmental scoffs."

Yelena looks at Bucky, his lips were set in a hard line, before looking back at you. "Uh...I think he's serious."

You tap the table and take another bite of your doughnut, shrugging. He walks around so that he is now in front of you. His icey blue eyes stare down at you. "I'm completely serious. I'll be your date. You said it yourself." He slightly tries to imitate your voice. "I desperately need a date for my sister's wedding or I will be the talk of the town and at this point I might just get a hobo off the street." He straightens up. "You need me."

You snap your eyes up to meet his. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his eyes were burning holes into your face. "I don't need you. Like I said, I'm sure the hobo off the street would gladly oblige."

This caused Bucky to scoff, and his hands clenched at his sides. "You're not serious."

"Oh, I am." You smiled at him sweetly, your eyes holding a fiery determination. He growled at that.

"Just think about it." His eyes roamed over your face one last time before he stalked away.

~~~~~ Three days. There were only three days before you had to fly out to Colorado for your sister's wedding, and you still didn't have a date. You ran your fingers through your hair in frustration, and Bucky's voice seemed to taunt you. You need me. You didn't need him. There were other people…except for the fact that they were all busy. And you just couldn't show up alone. You've already heard all the silent whispers and gossip. Poor girl, still single. Oh, she's still unmarried? Her younger sister is getting married before her? You could practically hear the people back in your hometown.

You decided it was best to go out for a much-needed cheesecake. You tugged on a hoodie and made your way out of the tower. The walk was fine, but looking at the clouds overhead, you hoped it wouldn't rain. You shook off the thought and entered the cheesecake place. You would think sitting alone at a table, shoving your mouth full of cheesecake, would be sad. and it kinda was, honestly, but you didn't really mind because the cheesecake was heavenly.

When you exited the shop, you groaned. Rain was pouring down, and you didn't have a jacket or an umbrella. Guess you would have to pull off the drenched rat look. You started your walk back to the tower, your shoes squelching against the concrete. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a very familiar black Camaro rolling its window down. You barely heard your name above the rain. You kept walking.

"Please, just get in the car."

You found yourself looking at a very dry Bucky in his car. He shot you a look that was less than friendly. You narrowed your eyes and shook your head. Bucky gripped the steering wheel tightly, and you swore he'd break it.

"Go home Barnes, I'm fine!" You called over the pouring rain. You looked ridiculous, getting soaked to the bone in the rain. A shiver may have passed through your body.

Bucky's jaw ticked and he exhaled. "Not if you catch freaking hypothermia! Car. Now." His voice left no room for argument. And was that a tingle down your spine? Absolutely not.

You walked over to his car angrily and yanked the car door open. You slid into the passenger seat, your clothes making a squeaky sound against the leather. He continued to drive as you rubbed your sleeve against the seat, causing a squeaky melody, wondering how long it would take for him to say something. It didn't take long.

"Have you considered my proposal?" He didn't glance at you, his eyes focused on the slippery road.

You sat in silence for a moment. You didn't really have anyone else, and here he was, volunteering. His hands shifted slightly on the steering wheel, causing his right arm muscles to scream against the fabric of his shirt. You may have stared for a second too long because Bucky cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Well?"

"Well, what Barnes?"

He exhaled sharply out of his nose. "Gosh, you are infuriating. The wedding. Your date."

"Oh…that." You squeaked against the seat as you repositioned. "Haven't given it much thought."

His metal hand tightened on the steering wheel, causing it to groan slightly under the pressure. "I can be your date." Firm. Irritated. That's how his voice sounded.

You clicked your tongue. "It's not that easy."

"Why not?" It was more of a bark than a question.

"Because…" You sighed. "It's not just a date I need. I need a fake boyfriend. You'd have to pretend to love me. And I doubt that's something you're capable of."

His jaw clenched tightly, and he hummed deeply. "I'm capable of a lot of things you don't know about." His voice came out in a deep rumble. "My acting skills are peak. I've gone on more undercover missions than you've seen rom coms."

You scoffed. "That's a ridiculously high number. I've seen a lot."

His face remained stoic. No twitch of the lips. Not so much as a noise escaped him. Stubborn, grumpy old man. You spoke again. "Besides…you never do something without gaining something in return."

"True." He growled out. "I have a congress ball tomorrow. I need a date."

Your eyebrows rose. "Ah…so that's why." You weighed your decisions. Public shaming from your small town if you attend the wedding alone, thus them all finding out you were lying about having a boyfriend. Or…bring Mr. Grumpypants along. "Fine." You gritted out. "I'll be your date for the dumb congress ball. And you be my fake boyfriend for the wedding."

You thought you saw his lips twitch slightly into a smile, but it vanished quickly. "Alright. Deal."

Now the only thing you needed to do was play nice with each other well enough to make people think you were dating. Not a problem at all.

[ayuthedemon]

For another eternity

not proof read we die like the Amphoreus cast!, sexual tension but no smut, fluffy and angsty, hurt/comfort but not really??? ~5200 words fem!priestress!reader x Phainon (+Stelle mentioned ヽ(^□^｡)ノ)

Phainon is head over heels for you however you seem reluctend to indulge him at times. Your visions of the chrysos heir's future and your duties as a priestress hinder you to commit to Phainon and make you question the valdity of your feelings until you lose it all.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊＊•̩̩͙✩•

Far on the outskirts of Okhema is a tiny temple; the sun blesses it and the golden treads in an act of diplomacy have sworn to protect it too as part of the city of the heroes.  In it women in white gowns scurry around trying to get every task of the day done while the new young head priestess walks slowly by the white haired knight through the gardens, adored with grape vines and peach trees. “You come here ever so often - every 24 days to be exact - in an attempt to gain the insight about the future from my visions. You should know by now that this is futile, deliverer.” “It’s worth the try, no? Someday I might catch you in a good enough mood where you willingly spill all your secrets.” Phainon laughs, showering you in warmth that if it wasn’t for shade you’d point your finger to the sun above. 

“Either way I’m happy to dismiss my duties for a chat. You should start bothering me every 12 days atleast. The temple would be much safer in the presence of a chrysos heir too.” you joke back sitting on the stone bench overgrown with moos with a view on the tiny pond filled with ducks and their ducklings - it’s the middle of spring after all where life starts to blossom, a new beginning to the cold end before it. “See, my presence only has benefits!” The heir joins by your side and tries to sneak glances when you push back your veil from your face. Like a young pup he can barely mask his excitement, curious to know every corner of the world but naive would be the wrong descriptor. His middle finger drums on his tigh anxiously, his eyebrows are frowned together and his tongue pushes against the side of his cheek - he wants to say something. “It’s unlike you to hold back your words. What’s on your mind Phainon?”  

“Oh. -Just the same old. It’s - well, are you withholding the truth because something bad will happen?” Sometimes it’s best to stay silent and drum your finger but instead you gently stop his fidgeting with your own gloved hands and opening your lips and inevitably strumming the tune of the forbidden song even as you try to hush them down, push them deeper in the prison of your lungs; “The prophecy does mention that the path of the chrysos heirs is filled with death and causualties, no? Bad things will happen no matter.”

“But there is something else, right? The prophecy is just so vague and you must have found something. something maybe worse than death even.” It’s like watching a big stone rolling down to hit a village - how could you let him hurt so much, maybe not knowing the truth is worse than the truth itself.

“You should stop. There is reason behind my decision to withhold it from even the rest of the heirs much less you.” Fingers squeeze around his before they retreat completely leaving them cold to the springbreeze. Leaves shake under Aquila's breath and you haven’t succeed in calming the blazing flame of the sun’s son. 

“It’s that bad? Does it mean the Flame-Chase will be fruitless in the end.” Blue eyes desperately search for reassurance in your own but you can’t - you can’t lie neither can you point him to the clear path your world strides on - and so you breath out the air in your lungs, your tongue moving on acord - a reflexive action one would fall under when a familiar melody, so entwined and etched into the brain, would play that it forced you to sing; “No. O Kephale no, but nova era’s face might differ from the mask we put on it.”

Have you been put under a spell? Have the golden treads found a way to squeeze out your heart and poison your mind? Quickly you stand up pained betrayal painted across your features. You are disappointed in yourself; How did you slip in a dance that grew so familiar over the years, one that is burned into your muscle memory? stupid. careless. “I’ve said too much. Excus me.” 

A hand stops you with a strong grasp around your wrist - of course the heir wouldn’t let you flee when he just cracked you. “Please don’t leave. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have pushed on but please don’t make our time together end so abruptly.” You turn back to face him again, those pleading  blue eyes have seemingly become your weakspot however you can’t seem to calm down. He takes your other hand hanging by the side of your hip, clapsing his hand around yours in a secure ball, thumbs massaging over the back of your hands, traveling up and down from your wrist to your fingertips. “I enjoy the presence of my savior beyond my mission to feed my curiosity.”

“Phainon of  Aedes Elysiae, I trust you know that the head priestess is off limits even to one of the heirs. Beside I thought I told you on multiable occasions to stop calling me your savior I was merely fullfilling my then duties as a maiden of the holy temple by patching you up that day.” Hot pink color adores his cheeks but he doesn’t stop touching you and you don’t fight against it when he pushes under your gloves, slowly peeling them off you, tracing shapes into your skin. 

“I know. But won’t you give me a chance before I inevitably lose myself to the role of a demigod? Or will you only be allowed to have me once I reach this status? Maybe a look in the future will assure you that I’ll surely succeed in this milestone set by the propehcy?” Phainon gulps down a big lump in his throat but his determination doesn’t falter, his longing overwhelms you and you don’t fully register your actions when you reach out to cup his face in your now bare palms - you’ll relish in this skin to skin feeling till your death bed. “We have time. If you truly long for my love it’ll stay with you even as a demigod, I’ll stay with you. Don’t rush dear delieverer, the worldbeares gaze is set on us two.” A gentle chaste kiss presses to his forehead, white lashes flutter close not daring to watch it end; deep down he knows he'll lose you to the prophecy or your stubbornness. 

“I don’t want to wait.” His hand finds the way to yours again, once more holding you in place. “You’ll live.” you chant, slowly slipping away. Even in the absence of physicality you know that mentally you’ll never be able to leave him, escape him because you have grown to miss his ways every night that followed your meetings in the gardens, his voice, his warmth, those eyes that never knew how to look in any other direction than yours. Titans you hope the rest of the maidens are always occupied enough not to observe the charming knight following you to all your favorite spots near the temple. 

“Tomorrow moring, once the first sunshine greets Okhema, wait for me by the gates. I always wanted to try the baths and what better opportunity than to enjoy the hot waters after a meeting with Aglea mhm?” Your form comes to sit again and you playfully hit him with your elbow as he collects your gloves from the ground, tucking them away into his coat. A sad smile is plastered across  his face - the kind that feels off, the kind that his face isn't sculpted with the purpose to do. "Yeah. I'll be waiting for you there.”

Pinky fingers brush against each other, ghost touches and unspoken promises linger in the air. “How about I escort you directly from the temple?” He grins wide like a cat, excited at his own idea, proud he came up with it. 

“ Oh I wouldn't dare to ask, you must be a busy person after all.” You try to throw the bait, hoping for more enthusiasm to come.

“Not all! I’d be honored to!” his fist connects with his chest and he somehow looks more like a noble knight than he did before. 

“ Why, if you insist, then I shall meet you here first thing in the morning. Goodbye, Phainon of  Aedes Elysiae until then.” You make your way back giggling girlishly - the kind that would be unfitting for a woman of your status and age. The man watches on, hexed by you and addicted to your sweet laughter.

.

.

As it has been for an eternity the sunny skies stay clear with only speeks of fluffy clouds ; it makes you want to thank the sky Titan in a prayer. Today you leave your chambers dressed more casual: a chiton cloth is wrapped over your head to your arm, silver jewellery compliments your simple choice, a bag hanging from the shoulder carrying your light toga for the baths. It was a hassel dressing searching left and right, down and up for your gloves only to remember that he still had them  - both the bareness and the reason for it leaves you a little bashful. How unbecoming of you. 

Amidst the many pillars the white haired hero is waiting, leaning his back against one of them,  practicing a nonchalant way to greet you. “Shall we get going?” Phainon flinches, surprised at your voice echoing through the still empty halls. “Y-yes! Of course!” 

He sticks out his arm for you to grab and you don't hesitate to indulge - it's just a polite gesture after all. On the way to the holy city you start to chatter lightheartedly; reminiscing your past together as two students of the Grove of Epiphany. “You really fought bravely for my attention.” “I might have made a fool of myself but it was worth it in the end, no? “ Yes, yes it was; nowadays you can't imagine a world without his presence in your life, appearing routinely to squeeze out the truth within the prophecy out of you but ending up spending the day casually like two friends. Maybe there is a possibility you failed to consider that could lead to your happy ending. 

Phainon is left by himself for at least an hour; the meeting with Aglea is successful yet leaves you in a sour mood. As usual he's waiting for you by doors already, noticing the little frown you wore. “Is everything okay? Should I go in and talk to Aglea for you? Bet if I vouch for you some more, she'll be convinced in no time.”

“No, that won't be necessary. I guess I just got a little sad with the matter at hand.” Phainons head tilts to the side as if he is a confused puppy and you observe as his mimic mirrors yours into an upset pouty face. “What was your discussion about then if you don't mind? “

“I, We, the Temple will have to move to the city. The black tide is too grave of a danger and not even the golden threads can guarantee our safety anymore. It's just such a shame to leave a place that is considered by so many souls as ‘home’, it's my home, always been. How am I supposed to break the news? This has always been a possibility yet this-“ a big hand comes down your shoulder; a quick flinch then reality frees you of the dark spots inside your mind. When did you start sweating? Shaking? And where has your breath gone? “Easy there. We'll find a way. Together. But today is all about your leisure so let's cast the worry for tomorrow and take that bath you wanted. It certainly always helps me unwind my nerves. " 

It's funny how the tables between you two keep turning; one second you are his comfort, the next second you're in need of his soothing words and small touches. “O-okay. You're right.” Fingers snake up your shoulder to find hold onto his solid form, in hopes that you could share some of his strength. “Together.” you repeat, you pray so that the weight of your responsibility seems lighter, even if just for the moment. “Together.” Phainon affirms squeezing your hand, guiding you slowly to the private bath area exclusively for the chrysos heirs. 

In between you slip away to change since you weren't as shameless as your companion to undress right in the middle of the room, in front of you. Eventually you reapproach his figure, deep into the hot waters already, back relaxed against the edge of the pool. Slowly you sit yourself down at the edge next to him, only allowing your legs to dip in. You let a surprised gasp when a head of white hair leans against the plush of your thigh followed by a satisfied sigh from his side. “How come that you never allow yourself to fully dive in even with the little things?”

Your fingers itch and twitch to run through his hair and scratch the back of his nape but you don't because you know better not to indulge, otherwise you might spiral down further. However you let him continue pressing his cheeks against your bare skin. “I tend to believe that it makes them so much better when I finally allow myself to.” He nuzzels his head so that his nose hits the side of your thigh, eyes closed in ecstasy. 

“But, for me to do that I'll need you to let me, my lord.” With two gentle taps at his head he lifts himself off you, looking up at you with those blue eyes like a cat that is offended that you have hushed it off your lap to do chores. Yet it doesn't just stop with an innocent glare, now you feel muscular arms wrap around you pushing you down into the water by force causing a big splash around you. 

“Phainon!” You exclaim going from clawing at him for dear life to slapping him across his chest. He laughs, satisfied with going through with his impulsive idea. “Well I just thought; why just let you when I can out right help you? “ His eyebrows wiggle funnily and his touch still lingers around your waist. “You're impossible.”

He doesn't move, you're trapped within the marine blue as he stares back intensely at you. “You're really pushing it today, aren't you?” 

“A little, yes. Can we hug properly at least?” his point finger taps in a rhythm against your waist, his eyes sparkling in anticipation as he switches left to right from his feet causing the water to move with him. “I guess, if it doesn't go beyond a hug.” With a swift move of your arm you pull him against you, pressed chest to chest, one of your hands guides his head against your shoulder and the other squeezed the upper back muscle. Phaninon needs a few seconds to steady himself from the surprise; he probably should've seen it coming but there was something devine and unreal about this moment - a moment in which you so rarely actively touched him back without him needing to balance the fine line you have set. Gently yet firmly his arms wrap around your form, his nose inhales the flowery scent on your neck which consequently earns a small yelp from you at the hot breath on the sensitive spot of skin. The two of you sway with each other,  neither wanting to let go, to let this moment fade into the passage of the past. 

Just when Phainon’s fingers turn wrinkly from under the water do you stop and decide to spend the rest of the day differently. You feel his gaze running up and down your form, hungrily admiring your naked legs just before you would disappear to change back into your casual clothing and you aren't much better either trying to memorize every hard earned muscle of his upper body. If someone demanded you to sculpt his statue you'd have no problem deciphering the placements of the many battle scars without the need of the model. 

Right at the entrance to the bath house Phainon is already waiting for you, conversing with an oddly clothed silver haired woman. Something unpleasant churns in your stomach when you watch the pair laugh with each other. Are you jealous? You shouldn't be after all Phainon isn't yours nor are you his - you don't owe each other anything of the sorts. Besides, it's unfair the way you get all possessive whilst being the one pushing him away from you. You should be glad Phainon is taking interest in others. 

To avoid being caught standing awkwardly and staring, you approach, trying to force on a little polite smile. “Ah! There you are, let me introduce you to one of the Travelers from afar. This is Stelle. “

She takes your hand gently pressing it against her lips as if you're a noble lady. “The galactic baseballer at your disposal miss.” Cheeks flushed you sheepishly  answer with your own name letting the trailblazer hold your hand in hers before remarking smugly; “Phainon wasn't exaggerating at all when he described how amazing you are. Maybe I'd even go as far as to say that he didn't do you justice.” You just might faint, burying yourself deep in the ground. Seriously you don't know what exactly has your heart racing more; that the handsome traveler who has become this world's hero seemingly overnight is showing interest in you or that the white haired heir is talking about you to others in such manners. 

“Oh my, you flatter me, Stelle.” Quickly you fan your face to get rid of the heat accumulating on your face making Stelle's grin grow prouder. “Well, a mission is waiting! Have fun you two! -but not too much fun. “ They shot finger guns at you two before sprinting off somewhere. 

“She really is something.” You watch her sprint with a finger to your lip, amused by the travelers strange antics. “Sure.” It comes out more monotone than Phainon would've liked to, a little salty and bitter even making you physically recoil at this unfamiliar tone of voice. Could it be that Phainon was being jealous too? It shouldn't surprise you since he is plainly obvious and direct about his liking towards you yet it stirs something in your guts nonetheless. 

Instead of consoling him with words or teasing him you decide to hook your arm around his, smiling assuringly;”Why don't you lead the way? Amphoreus must have more to offer than just baths I assume.” Though you doubt anything would beat the view of Phainon bathing.

“Yes! Of course!” He beams, warmth coursing through the atmosphere as if he were the sun and Titans your poor heart wasn't getting a break. Once more the moral hammer slams down your desires and the two of you continue on a stroll through the holy city. Every now and then your companion would point something out (mostly places he and Mydei have had one of their competitions, describing each fight in great detail. Though you doubt he was as often victorious against the crown prince as he claims. ) 

Like the gentleman he is Phainon escorts you back all the way but not until you two make a stop at one of spots claimed by the black tide on the outskirts to gaze upon the starry skies together. You try to rub the exhaustion out of your eyes smiling to yourself. “Thank you for the day. However I don't think you should become a city guide professionally any time soon. You're horrible.”

“You're so mean. I would do amazing.” Immediately you shot him a raised eyebrow watching his pouty face turn more thoughtful over time, really thinking about your current exchange. “T-though it wouldn't be a job I would look into in the first place anyway, I guess.”  and you start laughing at that. 

Lazily you let yourself fall into the comfort of the grass, petting the soil beneath in small motions, humming content to the song of the night. “Will I-” he plops down next to you, eyes on him, his hands over his chest, thumbs playing nervously. “Will I ever get to hold you the way I’ve always wanted?”

Is he trying to rip your heart out? Break its fragile porcelain shell and leave it to pieces? Ripping muscle tissues ring in your ears - something is torn, something is hurt. Is this path of pain really worth it to upkeep your sworn faith? To fight your inescapable fear? Something that seems so distant and abstract compared to the directness of the admiration towards the man you'd possibly even find loopholes to give into. The Titans have forsaken you, sending you the man who is prophesied to end up lonely and longing for more into your life. Tears stream down your face, a total opposite to the expression worn before. But why? Are you sad? Frustrated? The day has been so great, no? 

“Oh, Phainon. I don't know what to do anymore. What I want. What I should do. I just don't know. I really hope someday you will be able to.” 

. 

. 

Truth always finds a way, catching up to you as if you were prey, the stone on the clear path that makes you trip and fall flat on your face. It's embarrassing and you haven't even lied, only withheld it. Maybe silence wasn't gold after all. You stand on in the crowd of people still and frozen as Anaxagoras points his finger at you exposing that you could confirm his thesis that the world was a never ending cycle of reincarnations. However again you withhold the details only ever agreeing or disagreeing; the people don't need to know that their supposed savior has failed approximately 40 cycles before. They already know that your fortune isn't the future but your memories of the past that allow your foretelling, which is bad enough. 

Don't look at him. For the twentieth time you chew at the flesh of your lips, this time too hard making blood drip down your chin. You gulp down the metallic taste with the ball of salvia accumulating down your throat leaving your mouth dry. And yet nonetheless you find yourself looking at him anyway; he isn't looking back at you at all, seemingly finding the rest of his surroundings much more interesting than his professor's grand performance. 

Your silence is pardoned in the great scheme of democratic justice with a slap on the wrist compared to Anaxa's death sentence yet the process stays humaliting, degrading even, as you are forced to give up your title of a priestess in front of everyone to be rid of your sins. By then your head is buzzing and ears are ringing whilst you bite off the loose skin around your fingernails, dizzy from the situation, angry that all along you have always denied yourself the temptation to uphold some greater moral values only to be robbed in every direction. 

Titans, where are you even supposed to stay the night? You can't just go back to the place assigned to your sisters of the holy temple that you no longer are a part of. Your body shakes, the view from the garden of life gets blurrier by seconds and it can't be helped as you start to hysterically cry into your palms. Everything is lost; your title stripped, the friendly temple maidens now a distant fairytale, your dignity trampled on and him…

Oh, Phainon. It will take awhile till you’ll win him back. The yelps are muffled by your hands closing around your mouth tightly, back hunched to quell the ache in your belly. 

A big hand comes down your shoulder causing you to jump in surprise; “Oh I'm sorry I must have been crying so loud. I won't disturb any further.” The same voice you have grown to associate with the sunny days at the pond calls out your name in a quiet manner you'd use to soothe a startled animal. You recognize the blur of white hair in your vision and everything comes down crashing all over again, repeating small apologies in his direction. 

He pushes you against his chest wrapping his arms around you. “Hey, I’m not mad… maybe a little upset still sure -but I think you had enough unfair punishment for today, no?” He says with a sad smile, his fingers comb through your hair in great comfort and his grip around you doesn't flatter. The heir allows himself to bury his nose at the crown of your hair, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I already asked Lady Aglea to prepare a room for you. You'll be just fine.” He pushes the small of your back, guiding you inside, his larger statue shielding you from the eyes of onlookers. Still you were sniffling, snot running down your nose and your eyes puffy and red from the crying. Every now and then you get a pitiful pat or rub on your shoulder. 

When he opens the door to your presumingly new temporary home you can't help but grab at his sleeve like a child looking for attention. “I know I'm not exactly in the position to ask but- can you stay a little longer?” You lightly tap away the liquids on your face with the bell sleeve of your free hand, trying to regain some dignity. 

“I wasn't planning on leaving.” black leather boots invite themselves in, letting the action speak for itself. Slowly not to cause more noise than you had done before you close the entrance door admiring both the nice interior and the man sitting on the bedding. “Thank you.” You stay there back pressed against the door, putting distance between you two. 

He stands up again taking a step closer but keeping the space you have created as it was - he wouldn't dare to overstep, waiting till you decided to cross the line you drew. His mouth opens but other than a surprised noise doesn't come to be as you dramatically half limp throw yourself into his arms. For a second you flinch at how hesitant Phainon seemed, hands only respectfully supporting enough weight that the both of you wouldn't come crashing down the ground but it lacked what the embrace during the baths had. And then finally as if he had read your mind he pulls you closer, holding onto you as if you could fade to dust any second, in need of being held together. But how could you judge his neediness when you both are so deprived of each other. 

A kiss to your forehead causes you to push out a content hum out your throath. Phainon tests it out again; kissing the tip of your nose making you chuckle quietly. Your finger hooks around the black choker on his neck pulling him down so you could peck his lips. 

“Do it again.” He commands as you pull back, only for you to slot your lips against his for the second time. And then a third, a forth until you urgently tap his chest. Phainon continues to look excited however there is a mixture of concern lying under. “What is it?” 

“I-I think we need to talk first. I want to make it right this time - tell you everything. There are some things that were left unspoken during the trial that you should probably know. It'd be only fair.” Nervously you twist whatever fabric you can grab from under Phainons armour in your fists, eye contact becoming increasingly hard to hold. 

“It's fine really. I mean whatever happened to ‘there is a reason behind my decision to withhold’? Besides, I think you had a point; some stones are better left unturned.” Phainon kneads the skin around your hips, tilting his head to find your eyes somehow. 

“You'll be okay knowing since Anaxa’s findings haven't scared you off much either.”

“But what if this will?” He's right, what if THIS will? You'd probably freak out if someone told you that you have lived through every existing cycle before as you do now and the woman you love is molded out of the memories of his past lover(s). It's weird, too confusing. Something you might read in a romance novel and sigh over dreamily however this isn't a book but the reality in which you two live. 

“Then let's keep it silent for now. Maybe the two of us need time processing the big bite of today's events before diving into the deep waters.” You're determined to one day spill it all out tell him how scared you are to lose him and your life to the prophecy, to be reshaped again with the world's memories and doomed to live for a tragic love story between you and the deliverer. From the first moment deep down you always knew there was no avoiding fate, death is as certain as the yearning in your heart for the loneliest man in the universe in every lifetime you are given. 

“Yes. Let's do that.” Phainon agrees playing with your hair around his finger, melting you away with his charming smile like a flame to a wax candle. 

You shake away whatever spell he had casted on you, pulling him into another kiss; much more intense, much longer than your little stolen pecks from before. It was his time to sigh pleased into your lips. When you pull away you don't even get to catch enough oxygen before the heir tilts your head at your nape slightly gripping into your hair to bestow you with an open mouth kiss, licking at your underlip for permission. 

Of course you give him whatever he wished, it'd be cruel not to at the moment. It's strangely intoxicating as the tips of your tongues press against each other and your lips move to an unheard rhythm, a rhythm no matter if it turned louder would be overwritten by the thuds of your heart slipping out your chest. 

Again you pull away after what both feels like eternity and mere milliseconds at the same time, slightly biting down at Phainons lips to bask in his small pants. “This won't be the last time we do this right?” You almost laugh at how desperate he sounds with those big round puppy eyes of his. “Titans I hope not. Someday you'll be the end of me but until then I'll let you hold me however you desire.”

He is the end of you and funnily your beginning too. You're a star, molded into perfection by his hands and you wonder what woman you'll be in the next life, if you'll fight tooth and nail against life to mayhaps someday reach your happily everafter or whether you'll give up and embrace the tragedy to live for the fleeting moments with your star crossed lover. For now you don't know, which leaves you to shoot wild guesses whilst putting your head on your favorite sturdy shoulders, breathing in the scent of mint and firewood. 

Today, this version of yourself selfishly decides that the tragic ending to your title and the breath of your lungs is a worthy price for love, for the man who'll feel the consequences the most. Like you must have done a million times before, you speak to make it reality, to make it the truth that can be traced back and its impact be felt from the outside too; “I love you.” you crave into stone, burn into his heart and tie the final knots of fate for another eternity. 

[ladykailitha]

Forever Young Part 4

Hey guys! We are back with this amazing fic! Since it's been a bit I'd recommend reading the last chapter: here or the from the beginning: here.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

A bit of a longer chapter with lots of twists and turns and a brief cameo of Joyce and Hopper.

~

Will and Dustin looked at each other and sighed heavily.

“I forgot that there is a distinct messy side to science,” Dustin said, putting his hands on his hips and looking at the bags and bags of garbage out by the garage.

“Let’s see if we can’t find gardening gloves or whatever to protect us...” he waved at the piles with a grimace, “from all of that.”

“Good idea,” Dustin agreed. “There is bound to be broken bottles in there and I really don’t have the desire to call Wayne about needing a ride to the hospital, thanks.”

They found gloves and got to work. They sorted out the bags that were clearly from earlier in the week and focused on the two bags that were the most likely culprits for being from last night.

“So I’m just seeing beer and joint butts,” Will said about twenty minutes later. “How about you?”

Dustin sighed and pushed his bag away. “A whole lot of nothing. Like chip bags and other junk food detritus, no real heavy alcohol or anything that might mix badly with the weed.”

Will nodded. “It just seems like their every day party with out us underaged teenagers. Different kinds of soda and other drinks but nothing that screams body altering drugs.”

He got to his feet and dusted off his knees. “This was a complete bust.”

Dustin got up too. “I don’t think so. Yeah, we didn’t find anything, but that means that it wasn’t drug or alcohol related. That’s something we cross off the list.”

“I suppose,” Will sighed as he pulled off his gloves. “Let’s go tell everyone we didn’t find anything.”

“Let’s hope Dr. Owens has some ideas,” Dustin agreed, pulling off his gloves too. “But I’m plumb out.”

The other four kids were sitting on the sofa, talking among themselves.

“Sorry, guys,” Dustin said flopping on the arm chair, while Will sat cross-legged on the floor. “That was a bust. All they had last night was the usual stuff to get high and drunk.”

“Ours was unfruitful as well,” El said with a sigh. “Dr. Owens said that they had never encountered physical regression before. But he’ll look into it further and call back. I worry he may want to take blood tests.”

“He can fuck off back to whatever hole he crawled out of,” Mike growled. “I’m not letting them do to Nancy what they did to El. I don’t care.”

Lucas put his hand on Mike’s arm. “And we won’t let them either. Especially with Wayne knowing what’s going on. I have a feeling that if they tried to take Eddie, he’d storm the lab with nothing but a shotgun and enough ammo take on a third world country.”

Mike straightened and blinked for a moment. “Oh, yeah. He’d go all Rambo on their ass. Huh. That does make me feel better. Thanks!”

“No problem,” Lucas said with a smile. “Plus if we add El and Erica to the mix, the lab would be razed the ground in seconds.”

El just batted her eyelashes at them sweetly.

“So we’ve got absolutely nothing,” Dustin said with a heavy sigh. “The lab was no help, the garbage was no help. They can’t tell us what went wrong. We’re pretty much stuck until something else happens.”

“Pretty much!” Mike huffed, throwing his head back against the couch cushion. “This sucks. I’ve looked up to Nancy my whole life and after the monsters I’ve admired what a badass she was. But that little girl isn’t the Nancy I grew up with. Like she knows she’s going to be a big sister, but she doesn’t understand what that means right now. For her it’s diaper changes and bottle feeding. Not being a reporter and shotguns.”

There was a creak on the stairs leading down to the basement and everyone looked over expecting Steve as he had slept earlier, but no it was Little Jonathan.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he whispered shyly, sucking on his thumb.

Will was on his feet in an instant. One of the things that Lonnie liked to yell about either of his sons was that they were too soft. That they needed toughening up. The fact that Little Jonathan was still sucking his thumb at this age was sure sign that Lonnie was an ass and that there was no doubt he had hit his son for trying to get comfort somewhere in this big, wide world.

“Come with me,” he said gently. “I’ll take you to the one up here and then show you where the one downstairs is so you if you spend the night you know where it is, okay?”

Little Jonathan nodded, taking Will’s hand. Will led the way and as he was about to close the door behind the toddler, Little Jonathan looked up him and cocked his head.

“Will the Wise,” he said solemnly. “You’ll find someone who loves you for you some day.” Then he toddled into the bathroom and closed the door, leaving a very stunned Will staring at the wooden surface.

When Little Jonathan came out he didn’t seem to remember what he said before going into the bathroom. So Will just led him back to the living room where the teens were gathered.

“Hey there, buddy,” Lucas said with a soft smile. “Did you want to try to go back to sleep or did you want to color until everyone else woke up?”

“M’mm awake...” came the slurred voice of Little Eddie from the floor. “Just restin’ my eyes.” He sat up sort of cross-legged and rubbed his eyes.

Max giggled. “Sure are, big guy. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

Then Little Robin came in, hair a mess and drool all over her face. “I’m thirsty, can I get some water?”

“Sure!” Will said, his voice cracking. “El won’t you take them to the kitchen, I’m sure Eddie and Jonathan are thirsty too.”

El looked at him curiously, head cocked to the side. Then she nodded. “Come on, everyone hold hands like they did for lunch.”

The kids did as they were told and El took Little Robin’s hand to lead them into the kitchen.

The kids ooh’ed and awed when El used her powers to get the glasses down from the cupboard because it was too high for her to get.

“Cups are easy,” Little Robin said with a giggle. “She can throw cars with her mind, too!”

El froze and the cup headed for Little Eddie stopped too.

“Supergirl!” Little Eddie agreed, clapping his hands and reaching out for the cup. It took everything El had to let go of the cup so that Eddie could take it.

“You should see her fly a helicopter!” Little Jonathan crowed. “It’s so cool!”

She watched them in wide-eyed amazement as they didn’t seem to understand what it was they just said. They just happily drank the water given to them and then handed the cups back to her. She put them in the sink and then led them back out to the living room.

There was Little Nancy and Little Steve sitting on the floor with their heads together, playing tic-tac-toe as they waited for the other kids to come back.

“I think they’re getting some of them memories back,” El said bluntly. “But only in spurts.”

“I agree,” Dustin said putting his hands on his hips. “But when it does happen, it doesn’t stick around for long. Just a memory and then it’s gone.”

Max narrowed her eyes and then cocked her head back and forth. “Well you want to know what I think? I think we should just let them be kids for awhile.”

“What?” Lucas cried, springing to his feet. “We need them as adults!”

“And that’s the problem!” Max snapped back, getting to her feet, too. “We rely on them too much. When do they get to be kids? Especially Jonathan, Steve, and Nancy. They were our age when they first met the Upside Down, when do they get to shirk their duties and have fun?”

Mike grabbed both Lucas and Max and started pushing them toward the hall, but before he could even get them turned around, Little Jonathan and Little Robin burst into tears. Mike closed his eyes.

“I was trying to avoid that,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Please take this argument elsewhere. Dustin and El, too. They don’t need to hear this.”

There was a lot of shouting and protesting as even more of the kids started to cry.

Suddenly there was a piercing whistle from the doorway to the hall. All the teens stopped arguing even though the kids kept crying. They turned to the door and there was Joyce and Hopper standing there. Hopper had his fingers to his lips, pointing to him as the cause of the whistle.

The teenagers stared at them in shock and maybe a little bit of fear too. They were so busted.

“Where did you lot get a bunch of children?” Hopper groused. “I don’t think I’d let any of ya babysit for love or money.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Joyce smacked his chest. “Jim!” she cried in amusement.

Suddenly Little Jonathan broke from the crowd of children and dashed straight for Joyce’s legs.

“Mommy!”

Joyce scooped him up out of habit and then froze. “All my babies are grown up, little one.”

Will and El shared a grimace.

Little Jonathan traced a scar on her chin. “Daddy did that. I’m sorry, Mommy.”

Joyce and Jim both went wide-eyed.

Joyce moved Little Jonathan to her hip to get a better look at the little boy in her arms. “Jonathan?”

The little boy nodded.

Of course the other kids were still screaming so Mike and Lucas each grabbed one of the girls to calm down first. Mike took Nancy and began cooing a lullaby. She hiccuped softly, her sobs slackening until they stopped all together.

Hopper waded in and picked up the two boys, bouncing each on his hip. El immediately stood up and grabbed Little Steve from him so he could focus on getting the one quiet. El reading Little Steve’s mind to find a song that would calm him and started humming that.

Once everyone had stopped screaming and Joyce was over her shock, she sat down on the sofa, her son in her arms.

“Will, what’s going on?” she asked her other child.

“We don’t know,” Will huffed. “We know it’s not Upside Down related. El and I checked, but they just woke up like that.”

“They?” Hopper said, looking closer at the child in his arms. “Holy shiiiiivvva,” he said changing the last word at the last second.

“What’s a Shiva?” the little boy asked, cocking his head to the side and looking up at him with chocolate button eyes.

“Shiva is an Indian god,” Hopper huffed. “With too many arms and lots of rage issues.”

“So holy Shiva makes sense,” Little Eddie said solemnly, nodding. “Uncle Wayne said not to swear because they’re big people words. Can I say holy Shiva instead of cussing?”

“Sure, kid,” Hopper said with a huff of laughter.

“Oh no,” Joyce said softly. “If that’s Eddie, and this is Jonathan are those...?”

Will sighed putting his head in his hands.

“I’m afraid so Mrs. Byers,” Dustin said, putting his hands on his hips. “Steve was the first one found like this, then Nancy and Jonathan. We assumed, rightly unfortunately, that Robin and Eddie were affected, too.”

“Does Wayne know about his nephew’s cute-ifaction?” Hopper asked.

Max chewed on her thumbnail. “I think he was the first to know, but didn’t reach out to the rest of us because he didn’t know it had happen to the others, too.”

Hopper set Little Eddie down. “Sounds like you’ve got a bit of a mess. Especially since the reason Joyce and I stopped by is that we’ve got to head out of town for a bit. We were hoping to make sure Steve was aware he had to keep an eye out for you lot.”

“I’m not sure we can leave knowing the older teens are kids now,” Joyce said, holding Jonathan to her chest.

Hopper just shook his head. “I’d agree with you, but Murray was pretty insistent we both be there.”

“Is it Upside Down related?” El asked, cocking her head to the side.

Joyce sighed and then looked over at Hopper.

“We don’t know yet,” Hopper explained calmly. “We know that the Russians tried to open a gate before and if they’ve got someone like Henry Creel, they might try to insert them into the Upside Down to get control of it for their own ends.”

El nodded. “I’ve been keeping an ear out for any stirrings, but there haven’t been so far.”

He kissed her forehead. “That’s good to know.”

“How long will you be gone?” Will asked nervously. He remembered the last time his mom left and really didn’t want to repeat that experience.

Joyce looked up at Hopper and then back at him. “I don’t know love. I know things went bad last time, but that was because a general went crazy and tried to kill El. That won’t happen this time, I promise.”

“No offense, ma’am,” Lucas huffed. “But I really don’t think that’s a promise you can make. I get that it might be Upside Down related, but I don’t know about anyone else, I’m getting tired of grown ups leaving us behind to take on problems well beyond our capacity.”

“You watch your tone, young man,” Joyce said sternly. “It’s not your place to tell adults what they can or cannot do.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve still got PTO coming to me then, isn’t it?” Wayne growled from behind them.

“Wayne!” Lucas breathed in relief.

“Went out bought somethings for youngsters,” he said holding up his loot. “You two can go do what you want. I’ll handle this.”

Joyce chewed on her lip and then set Little Jonathan down gently. “I’m going away for a couple of days, but Mr. Munson is going to watch you and your new friends. You’ll be safe, I promise.”

Lucas rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut.

“I’ll take care of it,” Wayne repeated more sternly.

Joyce pressed her lips tightly and then nodded. She pulled money out her purse and handed it to Wayne. “To help cover any food they might need.”

Wayne set down some of the bags he had and took the money. “Thank you.”

“We’ll be in contact,” Hopper said squeezing his shoulder. “Keep the walkie nearby.”

They all nodded.

“Who wants to help me make dinner?” Wayne said with a grin, turning back to the other kids.

A cheer went up.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @stripey82 @tony-2012 @stedestielfrattficlover @micheledawn1975

10- @moonshadows-13 @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale @morallyundefined @best-thing-at-this-party @ollieolive

[huntingcupid]

NOBODY GETS ME (YOU DO) — J.Y

how am I supposed to tell ya? I don't wanna see you with anyone but me nobody gets me like you how am I supposed to let you go? only like myself when I'm with you

⌗ YOONCHAE — fem!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, swearing, established relationship, bittersweet ending, pt 2o fmulto, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — you felt her presence anywhere and everywhere, her image never left your mind, yet yours has left hers

⌗ CUPID — im getting threats for this.., ykw i think i might get killed for this pt2 anyways....��

you went home that day, feeling euphoric, it's not like you missed her right? — you did, you missed yoonchae more than you wanted to admit, it sounds selfish but sometimes you wish that you told her what you actually felt, what you felt about her leaving

you wished you told her that you didn't want to stop talking, you wished that she was still by your side, hugging you and laughing at your jokes — you wanted her to love you again, to love you enough not to leave

you searched through your closet eventually opening a small box of your old phone — it was like an ancient relic, the case barely clear but you could still see the polaroid of you two on its case, you power it on and wait a while

“i really miss you” you murmur tracing over yoonchae and your figure through the phone case — the phone finally powered on, you were greeted with yoonchaes drawn wallpaper, you sighed, it seemed pathetic that you would do this just to feel like she's still around

you debate whether to call the number on your screen, nicknamed “my yoon”, it made you feel like a desperate ex, which you were yet you still can't stop your heart from beating her name

“what am i doing?” you clutch your self tears forming in your eyes, you thought you were better than this, thought that you officially moved on, yet here you are stopping yourself from calling her number, you throw the phone on your bed deciding to take a cold shower to wash away whatever you have in your mind

the cold drops of water frame your form, making you slightly shiver — you close your eyes trying to stop thinking about her, erase her image from your mind

later that night you lay in bed, silence filling the room as you stare blankly at the ceiling — you wanted it to stop, to stop flooding your mind, stop making you crazy and miss her

days pass even weeks and nothing filled that void not even going to your favorite places — eating your comfort foods nothing worked, you eventually decide to take a midnight stroll in the city — enjoying the hum of the music in your ears, and the soft thud of the rain serving as a background noise

you walk and walk to wherever the wind takes you — slowly clearing your mind, it felt peaceful for the first time in quiet a while, you'd officially (maybe) forgotten her

you see a nearby 7/11 empty and almost calling your name — “instant noodles sounds nice right now” you mutter before walking up to it

you pick out an instant noodle, some snacks and drinks — debating if you should buy more or buy less — you pay for it before microwaving some of it and sitting down inside watching a corny k-drama

you slurp the noodles, the warm broth warming your soul — “hmh” you hum the taste melting into your senses, the crispy chips served as a side dish, healthy? no, but it was delicious and cheap

you watch as the main character in the drama runs in the pouring rain, her male partner running after her, screaming about how much she mattered — just as it was getting to the climax the store door opens

you immediately look, and see her — jeung yoonchae, she was wearing a cap but nonetheless you can recognize her face from miles away, she was walking with another girl, it wasn't one of her bandmates right? — you saw the lineup, it's not one of them

“oh this one!” the girl says excitedly, you saw how yoonchaes eyes lit up looking at the girl and it felt like a dagger just went through your heart — “sure!, i also love this” the korean murmurs back, she's lying you can tell, she never liked those chips

“go pay for those, i'll get us a seat” you wanted to hurry and run out of the store yet somehow you froze and sat there — yoonchae walks up and sits two seats away from you, has she forgotten you?, she doesn't know how you look? — fuck why are you not leaving

“y/n? is that you?” you hear yoonchae say, you slowly turn and you felt butterflies in your stomach, you wanted to run up to her and hug her, kiss her cheeks and tell her how proud you are — “oh uhm hey, yoon” you mutter smiling softly

her eyes studied your features yet a hint of guilt plagues hers — “h-how are you?” she asks, “I've been okay, congratulations by the way” you replied which she smiled to

“yoonie!, here i got our snacks” the girl comes running up — “y/n, my uh-” yoonchae started stuttering, “girlfriend, haerin” she finally says, the final stab

“oh!, hi!” you greeted flashing a fake genuine smile — “hi! how do you know her yoon” haerin asks the younger girl, “she's my uh-” you cut off yoonchae “old friend, we were high school classmates” you smile bitterly and see how haerin smiles and nods before taking a seat beside yoonchae

maybe this is the sign you've been waiting for, you stood up and waved before walking away, and for a split second yoonchaes eyes followed you, glancing your way — before she returns to haerin

your chest felt heavy with the newfound revelation but somehow better too — you wanted her love all this time yet she has found someone else's love already

now there they sat in you two's old spot, using the same jokes you made, it felt bitter, like a sting to your emotions

yoonchae had that spark in her eyes, the same spark she had when she'd look at things dear to her, like she looked at you — maybe this was the point, to see her happy, even if it meant not being with you

you stole a last glance meeting her eyes before you ultimately walk away, leaving what you once considered home and comfort, it's time for you to move on, just like she did

wc: 1.2k words

[cheesecakemermaid1048]

❗WARNING LONG POST AHEAD❗ And leaks from eternal sugar raid run, but they aren't main focus of this post

Okay, I was scrolling through CRK twitter, and stumbled upon leaked eternal sugar cookie beast raid art.

Nothing that really jumping out to me, I thought cool and moved onto with my day before eventually I decided to come back to it and check out silent salt design.

Since they are coming soon, I wanted to see how the silhouette here was a different one from the anniversary site..... And well, that turned to be a mistake BECAUSE I FOUND OUT THEY LOOK TOTALLY DIFFERENT FROM THE BLACK/PURPLE SILHOUETTE DESIGN!!!

One of the first things, you may notice is that silent salt souljam seem to be on their sword, NOT THEIR CHEST as shown in their black/white silhouette and their concept art.As you can see here.

But that's not all, their color pallet is way different from the previous designs too. In the smoke coming out of their helmet, you can see at the end of it, it's slightly red. You can also see the red at the side of their helmet too as well as their arm & their sword (which looks very much different from the swords. One looks like an actual sword while the other looks like a shield but digress)

Keep in mind, we don't only see this in shadow milk beast raid art but the other as well!

So it's not just different beasts affect salt's color from their usual purple. Don't get me wrong, while the other beasts certainly do effect it, it mostly consistent throughout all the beast raid art. Proving this isn't a mistake since we also beast gacha scene had. This is intentional!!!

..... Wow, that was a lot. Anyway, I know what you are thinking:what does this mean? Are they in between designs for silent salt and couldn't decide which is best? Is salt going to be red instead? Am I looking far too into this?.... Maybe

As for now, I can't really come with a solid answer as of now, I can only theorize what this means and after consideration, I think I might have a clue. So it's commonly known that silent salt's souljam wasn't originally on their chest. It used to be on their sword by the looks of it before it was moved onto their chest for whatever reason but based on beast raid, their souljam is back on their sword.

....I may be stretching this, but I want you all to stay with me here for a second... What of that salt we see in the beast raid is the actual salt in control of their body?

After all, while soul jams colors are different (mostly due to the lighting) but roughly looks the same. It would also be safe to assume the real salt before they corrupted had their souljam on their sword as well...but if that's the case then why are their souljam purple in silhouette art?

Well connects to two theories, I had a while back but was on the edge posting about. Basically I had two theories, the more common of the two being that silent salt went against their virtue unlike the other who still uphold it in their own ways, silent salt who completely against it.

While the other theory is that someone else is possessing salt's souljam. My reasoning for this being that the souljam changed colors when owners are changed. We have seen this with dark cacao and mystic flour, golden cheese & burning spice, etc. Even when the beast corrupted, their souljam color remained mostly consistent.

I never posted this because at the time, I thought my theory was wrong due shmilk and pure vanilla souljam having the same color pallet. Keep in mind, at the time the shmilk update hadn't released yet.....kinda wished I posted this theory.

Anyway, what better time than the present.so what am I proposing?...what if salt we see possibly an alter ego of the actual salt? What if the real salt and alter ego share a body? The alter ego being the more dominated of the two, so they have more control while the real salt takes the back seat...only occasionally having control?

The question is how this happening, of course I don't have the answer as of now but since they seem to be heavily connected to the witches. I think something happened relating to them similar to white lily but instead of splitting into two they become two souls sharing a body.

Anyway, that's my take anyway...sorry for the long post and spelling errors. It's really late, but I knew I had to write and post this before I went to sleep when I wake up I will comb through it to check for errors for the secund time.

Anyway good night everyone :) feel to leave your thoughts and opnions.I would love to hear them!