#ellie being amused

[tlou-obsessed]

Joel seeing Tommy smoke (maybe herbal cigarettes or something) and looking around for something to throw at his head, a very amused Maria and Ellie look as Joel loses it at Tommy, who curses around as he runs for his life.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 115

“Seriously old man?” the rumbling voice nearly caused Tim to jump, his eyes darting away from where Ras was sitting, the Al Ghul almost seeming to perk. It was kind of hard to miss the man… teen… being? It was kind of hard to miss the owner of the voice what with how their hair looked like it was on fire. 

They motioned around at well, everything, crimson eyes looking exasperated. “Really?” They were definitely motioning towards him, interrupting Ras when he opened his mouth to talk. “No, I don’t want to hear it, I swear- Did he kidnap you?” That was definitely aimed at him. 

“N-no?” Tim was feeling slightly unbalanced and may be on hour sixty without sleep at this point, if the hour long nap was counted. “I need help finding my not-dad who's lost in time.” 

The being let out a strangled noise that Tim could nearly swear was almost another one, but couldn’t vocalize his slurred thoughts as the dude muttered something, motioning around as though he was tempted to strangle something or someone. 

Ras cleared his throat, looking almost awkward which was how Tim knew he had to be dreaming or drugged. Probably drugged. “Jordan, how good to see you, it’s been so long-”

“Can it Pops,” the being-named-Jordan scoffed, finger pointing towards the Demon’s Head. “Moms still pissed and isn’t coming back any time soon with you still pulling this shit.” 

Tim felt his brain stall, process for a moment, then process some more over what he just heard before his mouth ran before it could catch up. “Ras is married???” 

[twinklingwatermellon]

Eun Gyeol be normal around Yichan for five minutes challenge 😭

[mrhowells]

what is your favourite clois scene?

I honestly love all their interactions so much that I couldn't even decide on my top five, so I'll just talk about their opening scene in booster because I keep thinking about it and it really captures one of the main reasons I love them so much.

So they're both in transitional periods of their lives, with Clark trying to create a new persona for himself and Lois working towards a promotion, and they're just so... invested and supportive about it?? Lois is helping Clark with his body language and reassures him because he's feeling insecure but then he's like "forget about ME Lois you're up for that promotion!!!" and you can see on his face how proud and excited about it he is like, he's really her biggest cheerleader and I'm😭😭😭

They're best friends and they're in love and above all else they just genuinely want to see each other thrive and be happy and grow into the best versions of themselves and it makes me want to collapse on the floor in tears.

[felteverywhere]

closed starter for @vvhimsicals inspired by this

the hotel room was sprawling to say the least and every time ellis paused to look out at the view of the city, he pinched himself. it was going to take time, to get used to the constant ping of his phone with notifications, the thousands of fans that felt so sudden and somehow unearned, the interviews and freebies. this was the first moment he'd gotten alone with them since they were announced winners. "this is all a lot more intense than i thought it would be." he muttered, turning away from the window to eye them.

[slut4megantheestallion]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅Threesome w/ ElliVi

Pairings: Ellivi x fem! reader

Warnings ⚠️: Mdni, Smut, Dom!ellie, Dom!vi, threesome, polyamorous relationship, fingering, strap-on sex, overstimulation, dumbification, sex toys, pussy slaps, slight degradation, heavy praise, aftercare, soft!Ellivi dynamic at the end.

The room is dimly lit, the low hum of the city outside barely reaching the thick walls of your apartment. You're sprawled across the mattress, legs trembling as Ellie grips your thighs, her calloused fingers digging into your skin.

"Look at you," she muses, her voice thick with amusement, running her two fingers teasingly through your soaked folds. "Already so needy, huh?"

Before you can even stammer out a response, Vi chuckles from behind, her rough hands ghosting up your torso before grabbing your chin, tilting your head back so her lips hover just near your ear.

"She loves being our dumb little thing," Vi murmurs, voice smooth yet edged with something dangerous, something possessive. "Don't you, babe?"

A whimper is all you manage before Ellie delivers a sharp slap to your clit, making you jolt. Your body betrays you, pushing further into her touch even as the sting lingers.

"Use your words," Ellie demands, her other hand tightening around your thigh. Vi presses a soft kiss to your jaw before adding, "Or we'll have to make you beg for it."

Your head spins, caught between them, bodies warm, eyes dark with hunger.

Ellie’s fingers stay at your entrance, teasing, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, making you squirm. "She's already making such a mess," Ellie mutters, dragging her fingers through your slick before pressing them against your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

Vi smirks, still holding your jaw. "She's always does. She's our good little thing, aren't you?" Her voice is deep, taunting, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nod quickly, panting, but Ellie’s grip on your thigh tightens. "Nah, none of that nodding shit," she corrects, pressing a little harder against your clit before giving it another sharp slap, making you whimper. "Tell us."

Your voice comes out shaky. "Y-Yeah, I'm your good girl."

Vi grins, satisfied, and kisses down your jaw, down your neck, nipping at your skin. "That's right."

Ellie pulls away, reaching to the side for something, and when you hear the familiar sound of a cap being popped open, your body tenses in anticipation. "Relax, babe," Ellie coos, coating her fingers in lube before bringing them back to your dripping cunt. "We're gonna take care of you."

Vi shifts beside you, her strong arms wrapping around your waist as she leans back against the headboard, pulling you onto her lap. The feeling of her bare skin against yours makes you whine, especially when her toned thighs press against yours, spreading you open. "Hold her still, Vi." Ellie instructs, and Vi doesn't hesitate, keeping a firm grip on your waist,leaving you completely exposed.

Ellie wastes no time, pushing two fingers inside with ease, the stretch making you gasp. She curls them immediately, brushing against that perfect spot that has your body arching against Vi. She chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Yeah? Feels good, huh?"

You can't even respond before Ellie adds a third finger, thrusting them at a steady rhythm, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room. Your hips buck, but Vi holds you down easily, strong arms keeping you in place. "So desperate," Ellie teases, pressing her thumb against your clit, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. "What do you think, Vi? Think she can take more?"

Vi hums, dragging her fingers down your stomach before spreading your folds apart even more, watching Ellie’s fingers disappear into you. "She can take more," Vi confirms, her voice thick with lust. "But she's already getting dumb on just your fingers, babe."

Ellie grins, slowing her movements, pulling her fingers out almost entirely before slamming them back in, making you cry out. "Aw, are we already fucking you stupid?"

Your head falls back against Vi's shoulder, your body trembling, only able to whimper. Vi tuts, her fingers coming up to your chin, tilting your face towards hers. "C"mon, sweetheart," she murmurs, pressing a slow, teasing kiss against your lips. "You can give us a real answer, can't you?"

Ellie picks up the pace, fucking you open with her fingers, the wetness dripping down onto Vi's thigh. "Answer her, baby," Ellie taunts, adding another sharp slap to your clit that sends a jolt through your entire body.

Your voice is weak, barely coherent. "Y-Yeah- feels so good"

Vi chuckles, pressing another kiss to your lips before muttering, "That's our girl."

Ellie fingers suddenly disappear, leaving you empty, making you whine. "Don't pout." Ellie coos mockingly, reaching for something else. When you hear the distinct sound of a vibrator clicking on, your breath catches.

Vi grins against your skin, her hands keeping you spread open. "Oh, you're in for it now, baby."

Ellie presses the toy against your already overstimulated clit, and the moment the vibrations hit, your whole body jerks. "Oh, look at her," Ellie taunts, rubbing slow, deliberate circles. "She's shaking."

Vi tightens her grip as you struggle against the overwhelming sensation, pressing her lips to your ear. "Be good for us, sweetheart. We're just getting started."

Your legs are trembling, body struggling to keep up with the relentless pleasure Ellie and Vi are giving you. The vibrator stays pressed against your clit, Ellie watching you with a smirk as your hips twitch involuntarily.

"Poor thing," Ellie taunts, eyes flicking up to your dazed expression. "Already so fucked out."

Vi hums in agreement, kissing the side of your neck. "And we haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

The best part.

Your whimper is swallowed by Vi's mouth as she pulls you into a deep kiss, her teeth nipping at your lower lip before soothing it with her tongue. Ellie, on the other hand, is focused - watching every little movement, every shudder, every sharp inhale as she turns up the intensity of the toy.

Your body jolts. "Ellie! I-"

"Shhh, baby," Ellie coos mockingly. "You can take it."

Vi grips your chin, forcing you to look at her. "Yeah, you can, sweetheart. You're our good little thing, remember?"

Ellie suddenly pulls the vibrator away, leaving you gasping at the loss, and moves back, reaching for something. You barely have a second to register what it is before you hear the low hum of another toy - a strap, the silicone glistening as Ellie coats it in lube.

"Think she's ready, Vi?" Ellie asks, stroking the toy slowly.

Vi smirks, shifting beneath you. "I think we should stretch her a little more. Make sure she can really take both of us."

Your breath hitches. Both?

Ellie’s grin turns wicked as she guides the tip of the strap against your soaked entrance, teasing, just barely pressing in before pulling back. "Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?"

Your hips try to chase the toy, desperate, but Vi tightens her grip. "Ah, ah," she scolds, pressing a hand to your stomach to keep you still. "Be patient, sweetheart."

Ellie pushes in slowly, watching with dark eyes as the strap disappears inch by inch. The stretch makes you moan, head falling back against Vi's shoulder as your body adjusts.

Vi presses soft kisses to your jaw. "That's it, baby. Take it."

Ellie bottoms out with a low groan, her hands gripping your hips. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so good." She pulls out almost entirely before snapping her hips forward, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has your breath hitching.

Vi chuckles, her hand trailing down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. "Look at you," she murmurs. "Taking Ellie so well."

The combination of Ellie deep thrusts and Vi's teasing fingers has your mind spiraling, pleasure overwhelming every inch of your body. You can barely form a coherent thought, words slurred as you whimper and moan for them.

Ellie leans in, her voice husky. "Bet you can't wait for Vi to stuff you full too, huh?"

Vi presses a kiss behind your ear. "We're gonna ruin you, sweetheart."

And the night is so far from over.

Ellie doesn't let up, her hips snapping forward with precise, deliberate thrusts, each one forcing a choked moan from your lips. The stretch is intoxicating, the way her strap drags against your walls, making your whole body shudder. Vi's fingers don't stop either- two of them rubbing slow, teasing circles over your swollen clit, keeping you right on the edge but not letting you fall over.

"Shit," Ellie groans, watching the way your body reacts to her. "She's so fuckin' tight."

Vi hums, pressing her lips to the side of your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin. "She always is," she murmurs, her free hand coming up to cup your throat - not squeezing, just holding you there, making you feel completely at their mercy. "Our dumb little baby can barely handle it, huh?"

Your head feels light, every nerve ending burning with pleasure. "I- Ellie- Vi, Please-"

Ellie grins, snapping her hips harder. "Please what, baby?"

Vi chuckles, her grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. "Gotta be specific, sweetheart. What do you need?"

The words are struck in your throat, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of Ellie pounding into you and Vi's fingers torturing your clit. Your body is trembling, overstimulated, but desperate for more, your mind going blank as the pleasure builds higher and higher.

Ellie slows her thrusts, pulling out almost completely before dragging the tip of the strap through your soaked folds, teasing. "C'mon," she coaxes, pressing the tip back in just enough to make you whimper. "Use your words."

Vi's grip on your throat tightens again, just for a moment, before she releases you entirely. "She's getting too dumb to think straight," she teases, voice thick with amusement. "Already gone, huh, baby?"

Ellie smirks. "Guess we'll just have to keep fucking her stupid, then."

Before you can process her words, Ellie slams back in, harder this time, setting a ruthless pace that has you crying out, back arching against Vi. She groans, her hands gripping your waist to hold you still. "Fuck, watching her get wrecked like this is so fucking hot."

Ellie’s breath is heavy, her hands digging into your hips. "You ready for her?" She asks, voice strained with hunger.

Vi smirks against your shoulder. "Oh, I've been ready."

Your body is still shaking when Ellie pulls out completely, leaving you feeling empty, your cunt clenching around nothing. Before you can whine in protest, Vi is shifting beneath you, guiding you to straddle her lap.

Her strap presses against your entrance, slick with arousal, and she doesn't waste any time, hands gripping your hips as she pushes in, stretching you open all over again. Your head falls forward against her shoulder, a broken moan leaving your lips as she bottoms out, filling you up completely.

"Fuck," Vi growls, her grip tightening. "She's gripping me so tight."

Ellie chuckles, moving behind you, her hands running up your sides before gripping your ass, spreading you open. "She's always a greedy little thing."

Before you can even catch your breath, you feel the blunt tip of Ellie’s strap pressing against your entrance again, right alongside Vi's, making your entire body jolt.

"Wait -" Your voice is barely above a gasp, brain short-circuiting at the realization of what they're about to do.

Vi tilts your head up, forcing you to look at her. "You can take it, sweetheart," she murmurs, lips brushing against yours. "You're our good girl, aren't you?"

Ellie presses in slowly, the stretch almost unbearable, your walls struggling to accommodate both of them at once. The burning sensation makes you whimper, but the sheer fullness has your head spinning, pleasure, and pain blurring together.

Vi kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans. "That's it," she breathes, her fingers gripping your hips tighter. "Taking both of us so well."

Ellie groans from behind you, her hands kneading your ass. "Fuck, she's squeezing us so tight."

Once they're both fully inside, they stay still for a moment, letting you adjust. Your body is trembling, every muscle taut, but the overwhelming fullness has you feeling drunk on pleasure, mind hazy, and incoherent.

Ellie moves first, pulling out slightly before snapping her hips forward, forcing a cry from your lips. Vi follows her lead, thrusting up into you, matching Ellie’s movements perfectly, their rhythm synchronized to wreck you completely.

The sensation is overwhelming, your body caught between them, every nerve ending burning with pleasure. Each thrust has you seeing stars, their hands gripping you tightly, keeping you in place as they fuck you mercilessly.

Ellie leans in, her breath hot against your ear. “You’re so fucking ruined, baby.”

Vi chuckles darkly, dragging her nails down your back. “And we’re not done yet.”

They keep going, thrusting in perfect unison, stretching you open, fucking you so deep that your mind goes completely blank. You’re barely aware of your own voice, barely aware of anything except them—except the way they own you, body and mind, claiming you as theirs.

The only thing you know for sure is that you’re not coming out of this night the same.

Your body feels weightless, mind completely blank as the overwhelming pleasure finally peaks. The coil inside you snaps violently, waves of ecstasy crashing over you in relentless succession. Your body tenses, then completely melts between them, a wrecked moan slipping past your lips as your vision blurs.

Ellie and Vi don’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm, dragging out every last pulse of pleasure until your whole body is trembling uncontrollably. Your legs shake, your arms go weak, and all you can do is let them hold you up as they push you past your limit.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Ellie groans from behind you, her hands gripping your waist tightly, anchoring you to her. “So fuckin’ pretty when she cums.”

Vi hums, watching the way your body reacts, how you’re still spasming around them, completely spent. “She’s done, babe,” Vi murmurs, pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder. “We wrecked her.”

Ellie sighs, slowing her thrusts before finally pulling out, leaving you feeling empty but relieved. Vi follows, carefully easing you off her strap before laying you down on the bed. The moment your back hits the mattress, your entire body goes limp, completely spent.

A warm hand brushes over your cheek, grounding you. "Breathe, baby," Ellie murmurs, her voice softer now, all teasing gone. “You good?”

You try to nod, but you’re too exhausted to move. A small, satisfied smile tugs at Vi’s lips. “She’s out of it.”

Ellie chuckles, flopping onto the bed beside you while Vi shifts to the other side, both of them surrounding you. “She took us so well,” Ellie praises, running her fingers through your damp hair. “So fuckin’ good for us.”

Vi hums in agreement, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You did so good, sweetheart.”

The shift in their dynamic is immediate—where before they were teasing and relentless, now they’re soft, careful, taking care of you in every way possible.

Vi moves first, slipping off the bed to grab a warm, damp cloth. Ellie stays beside you, her calloused fingers tracing soft patterns against your bare skin, grounding you. “You with us, babe?” Ellie murmurs, voice low and soothing.

You manage a small hum of acknowledgment, eyes fluttering open to meet hers. The corner of her lips twitch in a lazy smile. “There she is.”

Vi returns, gently wiping between your legs, cleaning you up with slow, delicate movements. “Tell us if anything feels too sensitive,” she murmurs.

The touch is warm and comforting, and you sigh softly, sinking into the bed. Ellie leans over, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “You need water, babe?”

You nod faintly, throat dry, and Vi immediately grabs a water bottle from the nightstand, helping you sit up just enough to take a few small sips. Ellie watches with a soft smirk. “See? We take care of our girl.”

Vi hums, setting the water aside once you’re finished. “That’s ‘cause she’s ours.”

A warmth spreads through your chest at their words, at the way they’re both looking at you—soft, protective, completely wrapped around your finger.

Ellie shifts, tucking herself against your side, draping an arm over your waist while Vi slides in on your other side, pulling the blankets up to cover the three of you. You’re warm, safe, completely surrounded by them.

“You feel okay?” Vi asks, voice quieter now, brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

You nod again, melting into the comfort of their embrace. “Yeah,” you murmur, voice slightly hoarse. “I feel… really good.”

Ellie chuckles, pressing a slow kiss to your bare shoulder. “Good. ‘Cause we’re not lettin’ you go anywhere.”

Vi smirks, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

Their arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer, their warmth seeping into your skin. Your body is sore, completely spent, but the comfort of being between them makes every ache worth it.

Ellie presses one last kiss against your skin, her voice dipping into something fond. “Get some sleep, baby.”

Vi hums in agreement, her voice the last thing you hear before exhaustion fully takes over.

“We got you.”

[baambied]

↪ 𝘚𝘏𝘜𝘛 𝘜𝘗

cw. nsfw drabble cursing oral(reader!rec) ellie cums untouched m.list

sub!top!ellie × sub!reader

"fuck- fuck els" you shakily moaned out, your fingers tightly gripping the auburn girls hair as she laid in between your thighs, her rough hands holding your legs open against the bed, her tongue roughly and hardly lapping against your cunt, it was almost like she was making out with it.

your back was arched up on the bed, a rolled up pillow right at the lower part of your bare sweaty back.

"mmhh sooo goodd fuck" ellie moaned against your cunt as she began moving her head side to side her tongue sticking out, the girl was pussy drunk, her half open eyes looking up at your soft worn out face, freckled cheeks warm and pink her hips softly bucking at the mattress beneath you two as she attempted to feel some kind of friction to ease the pain between her thighs, she could feel how messy her white boxers had became, all sticky and warm her neglected pussy just begging to be touched.

you were too lost in your own head, moans and words ellie couldn't understand just fumbling out your mouth, your hips buckling up into her mouth once in awhile "hmmm gonna cu-cum" you whined, your face scrunching up as you felt your high coming...you were distracted you didn't even notice ellies lips on your cunt getting weaker, if anything now her mouth just leaned there, breathy pants escaping her throat as her hands held your thigh tighter, her face was in a hard frown..now this caught your attention

you confusingly sat up on your elbows as your sudden high was now ruined. "els?" You called out in confusion as you squinted your eyes at her form, her head still between your thighs a few hums escaping her mouth that caused vibrations that made you shudder slightly

"fu-fuck what the fuck..- shit!"was the only words ellie could get out as her high suddenly surged through her body, her head turning to the side to avoid staring at you as she groaned against your inner thigh as her high began to come down.

before you could get another word out, ellie moaned against you a sweet breathy moan, it came out muffled due to her still being between your thighs. You take notice of her hips twitching and buckling.....no way..

did she just...

"did you just....cum?" You asked in confusion and slight amusment as you tried to pry ellies head off your thigh to get a look of her face "no- no i didn't fuck off" the girl exclaimed in defense as her bright pink face now leaned against your thigh, her panting softly against it

"it was hot-"

"shut up"

[vahnilla]

subloser!ellie head cannons ❦

these are like all nsfw heh 😅 also its a little short but whatever im literally writing all this in class ;-;'

not proofread and first post!!!

subloser!ellie :: who doesn't straight up tell u she wants to have sex. instead she'll nudge u in ways that are similar to a cat wanting affection.

:: you guys would be laid up on the couch just mindlessly watching something while she lays beside u. but progressively, she'll slowly inch her body to be more and more and more on top of u until you get the hint. you'd teasingly say, "yes ellie?" with a small smile, amused. "want you." she'll mumble as her nose nudges the crook on your neck. you'll let out a tiny hum as if to say "aw." "could've just said so baby." you say as your fingers play with the hairs on the nape of her neck before you kiss her forehead and give her what she wants. ::

subloser!ellie :: who lets out the cutest whimpers and tiny moans ever. "mphh-yeah baby..." she'll whimper out as you messily eat her pussy, her eyebrows turned upward and eyes so close to closing and rolling to the back of her head, but she just loves to see how your eyes never leave hers.

subloser!ellie :: who loooooooves tribbing so much. so much so that she's the one who likes to top.

:: her bony hips petruding as her eager and erratic movements against your pussy as you let out cute whines of your own fuels her to keep moving even if she's exhausted. all she wants is to find the spot that makes you both fall apart. to please you. if she really is that tired though, she'll so sweetly ask if you guys could switch. "baby..." she'll meekly start out, barely audible. "baby i cant." her hips faltering as she whimpers out. "m'tired...cn' we switch?" of course you can't say no to your baby. ::

subloser!ellie :: who likes being tied up and overstimulated against her will. but she'll never tell you that.

subloser!ellie :: who isn't a big fan of being on the giving or receiving end of strapping, but on the occasion, she'll have no problem being the whiniest and neediest slut ever.

subloser!ellie :: who loves to hold your hand while one of you gives or receives.

subloser!ellie :: who's lowkey a kinky girl. i feel like she'd be into both degrading and praise, being tied up, and light choking. i feel like she'd be soooooo into edging too.

subloser!ellie :: who turns her action figures and stuffed animals around before having sex.

subloser!ellie :: who is a CREAMER!!!!!!!!!! i stand by that forever. just globs and globs of cum seeping out of her cunt after just one or two orgasms.

subloser!ellie :: who sometimes calls you mommy in bed. it just slips out of her!!

subloser!ellie :: who likes when you eat her pussy while she plays video games. she likes it even better when you tell her not to go on mute and be quiet like a good girl.

[kermdoeswriting]

Bruce Wayne's a Foster Parent. Also he avoids death a lot so a dead person can usually tell if a humans meant to have died but didn't.

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

"Bruce you know I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't have to but-"

Bruce just sighed from his side of the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Nobody ever really expects to get a phone call nearing 3 am but exceptions had to be made when you were a legal foster parent and also a part-time secret super hero. If it wasn't one thing calling for him it was the other.

On the other side of the phone, Bruce heard the caseworker, Roni, chuckle.

"It's just for 3 nights and half of the day after, but I need you to be prepared for something before I can pass them off to you."

Bruce sat upright now on his bed, attentively listening to her words. Usually the kids didn't really come with any pre-warnings from the Caseworker themselves, letting anything about each Foster kid be said inside of their personal files that got sent along with them.

But when she gave out this information it was usually important. The last time Bruce had gotten a warning like this it was for Jason which was ages ago it feels at this point.

"What is it?"

"The kids are-" Her voice trailed off, like as if she was still searching for the right words to say. "They've been through what I can honestly only describe as the equivalent to a meta-kid trafficking lab"

Bruce shifted as he heard the driving continue on the other side of the phone.

"They're very guarded because of what they went through and they might display.. unusual behavior. More unusual then a meta-kids behavior after such a situation would be, but don't let it fool you! The kids are really sweet beyond being afraid."

Bruce frowns at the descriptions before replying to her, mentally trying to prepare himself for the idea of these kids and what they might have went through.

"I'll make a note of it then. Thank you, Roni"

"No, thank you, Bruce. I really appreciate this last minute placement. We'll be by really soon"

He was left with a click as he removed himself off his bed and threw the covers to the side of him. Alfred would want to know that they would have 2 new guests in the manor, at the very least to greet them and have rooms prepared even if they didn't need to have them prepared further then what they already were.

It was less then 5 minutes later that Bruce found himself, with Alfred, greeting the temporary fosters at the front door. Roni looked tiredly at them as she pushed the kids front and center.

Bruce could relate heavily.

"Hello Danny, Ellie. It's nice to meet you both, I'm Bruce Wayne."

Danny just stared at the mans outstretched hand for a second before he turned to look up at him, a pinched look on his face. Ellie matched his expression, although being a bit more subtle about it as she looked over Bruce as a whole.

Eerily, Bruce felt like his very soul was being judge the longer the kids stared at him. He also felt a sense of familiarity with these two kids the longer this continued.

They seemed detached rather than afraid like their caseworker had explained earlier, more so viewing the world as if they were outside of it rather then in it in any way.

Danny was quick to glare at him after another moment, "You're a fruit-loop, aren't you?"

Ellie broke from her own scanning almost immediately when she heard Danny's comment, cackling beside him before shoving him off with her arm. The action made Bruce smile as he took his arm back and placed it by his side.

Alfred also looked amused between the pair of siblings before turning attention to the task at hand again. Bruce just smiled at his pseudo-fathers usual fondness over children, knowing he was being reminded of his own grandchildren.

"This is Alfred. He's going to be the one to show you over to your rooms for the next few nights." Alfred greeted the kids in the same polite way he usually greeted all guests before he leaned down and extended his hands towards their belongings. He didn't grab their belongings just remained leaning over them before questioning the kids if they would like help to take their stuff to their rooms.

Bruce only really saw it faintly and if it were any other moment he might have ignored it as a sleepless hallucination, but for some reason he noticed the change immediately. The twins eyes go from a darker blue to a flashing bright green.

As if alarmed by the sudden movement towards their belongings.

Danny was quick to catch his own staring as well, eyes flashing back to blue for only a second before reverting back to green. Almost as if to give off some kind of warning.

Ellie noticed his staring immediately and shoved Danny again, this time more forceful for his attention before turning to whisper something to him when she had him back.

Bruce felt his skin crawl before turning away to face their caseworker, not really understanding anything they were saying beyond hearing a few words and feeling their eyes look between each other and his back.

Death Touched was an especially new description, and one that stuck in his head the second he heard it.

Bruce waited until the kids were guided away by Alfred before talking to their caseworker officially and waking her up from her half delirious tired drop-off.

"Hey Roni? Is there any chance we can extend the Fenton kids stay?"

There was something going on here with these kids and he was going to get to the bottom of it. One way or another.

[forever-rogue]

hii i love the way u write for Joel and was just wondering if i could request something.

so i always see people write joel coming home later then usual after patrol and reader is very worried but i haven’t seen much of it the other way around, like reader is on patrol without joel and joel is all worried and can’t sleep and is just waiting for reader to come home and maybe reader comes back with a few cuts and bruises but nothing to serious but joel is just taking extreme care of her 🥹

AN | Oh, but I love this concept! Enjoy💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Pacing ain’t going to get you anywhere,” Ellie stood at the foot of the stairs with her arms over her chest as she looked at Joel, “you of all people should know that better than anyone. ‘Sides what are you even worrying about?”

“Ellie,” he sighed her name in that familiar tone that never failed to amuse her. He’d been at the front door, poking his head out and looking around the yard and surrounding area, “why are you still up?”

“It’s only ten o’clock, old man,” she made a show of looking at her watch, one he had gifted her a few years back, “and I’m not ancient. And…I knew you were worried and I can’t sleep if I know you’re worried.”

“I’m not…” he stepped back inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He leaned against the door and looked at the girl with a small smile, “ain’t no use lying to you, is there?”

“Never has been,” she walked over to the couch and flopped on it, leaving ample space for Joel, “and there never will be. I can see right through you. You’re not as brooding and mysterious as people like to think.”

“Well then you should probably know exactly what’s on my mind,” he sat down with a groan next to her, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. The two of them exchanged a quick look, “I can’t not worry about either of you. You’re….you’re my girls and it’s my job to worry. She was supposed to be home this afternoon. She’s late.”

“Don’t you think we worry about you as well?” she nudged his leg and he huffed with a roll of his eyes, “we do. You know that. It’s okay to worry…even if there’s no use. They’re probably just running a little bit behind. You know how these things go. It doesn’t inherently mean that anything bad happened.”

“There is always use,” Joel insisted, “even if you don’t want to think there is anything to worry about, there’s always something. You can’t just trust anything outside of our walls.”

“Yeah…well, nothing’s ever happened to your sweetheart so I think it’ll be okay,” she insisted softly. Ellie barely managed to stifle a yawn as Joel raised an eyebrow at her before looking pointedly towards the upstairs. She rolled her head back and groaned, “fine. Fine. Maybe I’m tired. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? You’re not gonna stay up all night looking out the door every five minutes?”

“I’ll be alright,” he promised. He knew that, logically, everything would be alright but it still didn’t help to quell the lingering worry that was hanging on at the back of his mind, “I’m about to go to bed too. You’re right; ain’t no use with worrying about something I can’t change.”

Joel had had the intention of going up to bed after Ellie, but he'd remained on the couch for a few minutes longer. Soon enough he had changed positions and was fast asleep, snoring away softly, despite his intentions of actually getting up and going to bed.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you walked into the house, the sun was starting to rise; you’d planned on being home the afternoon before but you know, life always seemed to have a different plan. You hadn’t planned on getting injured either but here you were; your shoulder was grazed but patched up the rest of your scratches weren’t anything of note. Well - to the average person they wouldn’t be anything to take a double look at but your partner was far from the average person. You were pretty sure he’d have a heart attack, or something close to it when he saw you. 

You opened the door as quietly as possible, slinking into the front room and shutting and locking the door. You’d been sure that Joel and Ellie would be fast asleep but instead you found Joel sprawled on the couch, snoring softly. 

“Oh honey,” you whispered sweetly, careful not to make too much noise to rouse either Joel or Ellie.

A smile graced your face as you dropped your bag and kicked off your shoes, trying to be as quiet as possible. You grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and gently draped it over Joel’s frame. He mumbled something softly but didn’t stir otherwise. You tenderly pushed some of his stray curls out of his face, and brushed your thumb over his cheek. Your original plan had been to take a quick shower and slip into bed and maybe, kinda, sorta pretend you’d been there for some time, but as soon as you’d seen him on the couch you knew that wasn’t going to be an option. 

Instead of any of your original plans, you yanked your sweater off and tossed it the pile by the door before gently pulling the blanket off Joel’s frame and sliding in next to him. You had just enough room to make it in, and as soon as he felt your body next to his, Joel wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his frame. You made a small sound of content as you settled into him, quickly feeling yourself lulled to sleep. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel hadn’t heard you come home - not entirely anyway. He had been half awake when he’d heard the door open and then felt someone drape the blanket over him. He was pretty sure that he was having some sort of dream so he hadn’t questioned it or bothered to try and fully wake up. 

When he did finally wake up, he was confused by the warm body next to him. Panic was his first instinct but then he quickly realized that it was you. He let out a small sigh of relief at the fact that you were finally home. He put two and two together and realized that what he thought was a dream was actually just you coming home. You hadn’t woken up yet so he gently maneuvered himself out from behind you and made sure you were comfortable before going to gather up your things to put them away. 

But before he managed to walk away he touched your face and almost froze. 

“What happened?” he asked sharply, as he looked over the bruising on the side of your face that led down to your shoulder. He exhaled sharply when he spied the bandage that was covering most of your shoulder. He hadn’t meant to ask so loudly, but it caused you to startle awake.

You blinked away the bleariness that was remaining in your eyes and found Joel looking at you with a worried expression on his face. A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth when you realized it was him, “hey Joel.”

“Baby,” he sighed softly, crouching down in front of you, “thank god you’re home.”

“Happy to be home,” you whispered, yawning lightly, “sorry it took so long.”

“What happened? Do you have any other injuries?” Joel was ready to rip the blanket off and look you over for himself to make sure there wasn’t anything hiding from him. If anything happened to you, he wasn’t sure he’d survive. He’d been through too much in his life and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive another such heartbreak. He knew, he was well aware, that he was spiraling and was trying to control himself but it was hard. But logically, judging from how you were still quietly laying on the couch, he knew that you were more than likely okay and if you had anything more it would be superficial. 

“Just scratches and stuff,” you mumbled as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and shifted to sit up. You slowly stretched, careful not to aggravate any of your injuries further and fully aware of Joel’s eyes being locked onto you, “nothing I can’t handle. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Miller.”

“I hope I never get rid of you,” he mumbled as he took your face gently in his hands, appraising you with gentle eyes, “I’m gonna need to keep staying tough, baby.”

“I don’t plan on changing,” your words came out as more of a whisper than anything as you looked at him with sweet eyes and a saccharine smile, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he promised in return, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh, “I just worry.”

“Yeah, I know you do,” you put your hand on top of his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, “but what does worrying get you? Nothing except a few more wrinkles and worry lines. It doesn’t change what’s happened or what will happen. I know it’s easier to say than do but promise me you’ll try?”

“I’ll try,” he agreed and you gave him a knowing little smile, “I didn’t say I was going to be perfect. But for you I’ll try anything. You gonna tell me how you got that injury then, darlin’?”

“Joel…it’s fine,” you swallowed thickly, absentmindedly running your hand over the bandaging, “just know it’s all going to be alright.”

“Now what makes you think I would accept that as an answer, huh?” he said back down in front of and offered you an expectant look. You knew that he wouldn’t just accept that answer and you’d been a fool to even try that one on him. Silly girl. The only way Joel Miller would accept such an answer was when he was long cold in the ground and even then it wasn’t a guarantee, “you’re smarter than that.”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” your voice was small and gentle as Joel nodded. 

“I’d never be mad at you, baby. I just want to know…please.”

You let out a small sigh as you nodded, “well, it turns out that I was a little slow and umm, well, t-there was a clicker and the fucker was a just a little faster than me. A-and it got me so yeah….”

Joel’s mouth dropped as he processed what you said, “I-”

“W-wait, I didn’t - I wasn’t bitten,” you hastily pulled off the bandage to show him as though he needed some kind of proof. You’d never put anyone else in danger and neither would Joel, “just scratched and scraped. See - I-I’m fine.”

“Baby - baby,” he put his hands on your upper arms, doing his best to calm you down, “I’m not worried about you being bitten. I know you wouldn’t…no. But this is….it’s still not great. It looks-”

“Terrible,” you finished for him, fully aware that you would be bearing a nasty scar for some time, “I didn’t want you to panic.”

“I just want to know that you’re okay. I don’t want this to get infected - don’t laugh at that - and lead to something worse,” you hadn’t meant to laugh at his inadvertent comment but you also were tired and felt half delirious from everything that had happened, “but it looks well looked after. You’re just going to have to be careful for a while, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed softly, “you’re not going to let me go on patrol for a while, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he agreed, causing your heart to melt at his sweet tone, “I’ll pull double duty if I have to, but you ain’t going out there. Not right now - I think everyone can understand that. And if you even try, darlin’, you won’t even make it to the stables.”

“I wouldn’t dare to try,” you were absolutely a strong independent woman…but you couldn’t deny the fact that when Joel grew so protective and in charge it did something to you, “can I ask for a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can we go to bed?” you asked softly, “I just wanna go to sleep and want you to hold me.”

“We can do that,” he slowly rose to his feet and stretched before helping you off the couch, “that sounds great to me. You’re trouble, but I love you.”

“I’m just your kind of trouble,” you offered as he huffed through a laugh, “I love you too, Miller.”

[storiesfromasmalltown]

Jack Abbot x resident!reader

Warnings: Cursing, drinking, medical inaccuracies, not beta read, me coming back from the dead, attempts at humor, age gap (reader is in late 20s/ early 30s)

Word count: 2500+ (oh well)

COWBOY TAKE ME AWAY OR when your best friend ends up in the ER after her Cowboy themed bachelorette party with a broken leg and a mouth that just keeps talking you might be in over your head.

You were going to kill her, after they stick her leg in a cast and once she sobered up you were going to kill her. Taking the weekend off in order to go to your best friends bachelorette was planned weeks in advance, the cowgirl theme was coordinated from outfits to drinks, you spent months on the whole thing, being the maid of honour and all- you hand glued BRIDE in gemstones to her white cowboy hat, hell you had hand-sewn the veil to the hat. You planned the whole fucking thing while being a year 3 resident (you survived a few months on good will and fumes for it) and frankly you were looking forward to a night away from your work and the giant obvious crush you had on one of the attendings you were planning on getting over by finding a bison for the night.

And yet there you were getting Becca and her fucked leg into the PTMC, two purses on your scantly clad shoulder and one of her white boots under your armpit- you had remembered to text Ellis on the way to let her know you were coming, no sense in letting the drunk babbling bride wait- you just wished she’d stop asking if she was finally going to see your sexy doctor.

You also regretted ever having spilled about Abbot. The night was perfect for stories of old flames, sex lives and your miserable thing for the hot night shift attending and now you might have to plan a move to Mexico the way she was going. You stopped after two cocktails, knowing the bride was injury prone, Becca told you she planned on getting smashed for her bachelorette the moment Jules proposed and who were you to stop her. You were regretting it now as you took her into the ER waiting room. 

“Bet you he’ll love the outfit.”

“Beck, please shut up about that, please? I need to be able to show my face at work again.”

“Oh you’re showing a lot more than your face today babe.”

“Yes I know my tits are out I didn’t exactly plan on showing up at my place of work tonight.”

She just giggled and tapped the pink hat on your head. Great. 

She had jokes for someone in her place, you were happy to know that alcohol and adrenaline still had a grip on her. You got her seated in the waiting room and went up to fill out her paperwork when a whistle cut you off- Shen, of course he’d be the first person to find you. He gave you an amused once over, leaning his weight on a wheelchair he had with him.

“Well, well good evening or do you prefer ye-haw?” 

“Howdy actually.”

You tipped your hat for added effect, might as well commit to the bit.

“-and since you’ve got jokes you might want to keep them for the cowboy in chief herself.”

He followed your line of sight where Becca was holding her immobilised leg.

“I’m assuming that’s my fracture? Was the rodeo that rowdy?”

“Still is.”

“You coming with?”

“I’ll come after you after I write her insurance info- don’t listen to a word she says and don’t light any matches near her.”

“How come you’re still standing?”

“I’ve known her since college and if there’s someone you keep an eye on it’s Beck.”

He gave a smile before pushing on with the wheelchair in his arms to Becca, who opened with the brilliant opening that may as well have been your gravestone-

“You’re not the hot doctor.”

The laughter he let out startled an older woman who looked like she was about to fall asleep on the plastic chair.

“I’m Doctor Shen, I’m also slightly offended but you can tell me more about this hot doctor of yours while I have a look at that leg.”

For fucks sake.

“It’s not my hot doctor, it’s hers, but it’s a secret!”

A big secret given her pointing towards you.

“Oh is it?”

If Shen knew the whole hospital would know by tomorrow. Maybe you can practice medicine somewhere nice and far-like North Korea.

“Good job on keeping it Beck, the yelling helps.”

“Don’t hold back on the details Cowboy Bride, please keep talking for as long as you’d like- it helps with the pain.”

The maniacal laugh she let out told you you were as fucked as you thought you might be. You thanked the nurse at the check in desk and went back to grab the purses and hopefully pass unseen to your locker to leave Becca's boots and salvage a bit of dignity before your peers and their insufferably handsome attending. 

You were perfectly normal about him the first time you met, you would swear on it and even if you weren't you didn’t know a single person who didn’t stare at his arms the first time they saw him.

It was all fine and almost fun and then one hand held scalpel assistance with whispered praise lead to what you hoped was flirting and then those shoulders showed up uninvited to a wet dream and you found yourself truly and deeply fucked. The worst part was it wasn’t even just a sex thing, he made you laugh, he made you feel safe. You shared whispers and quiet drinks after long shifts, you’ve been handed as many coffees before a long night as you have beers after a long day. You’ve tag teamed shit cases, you’ve joined in on bets, you had inside jokes, hell he gave you butterflies you didn’t know you could still get. It’s one sided- you remind your self, it would be inappropriate that didn’t stop Collins and Robby your brain cheats but she probably didn’t barge in with a drunk friend objectifying him in tiny shorts and a bright pink push up bra poking from underneath her white shirt. 

 You were so focused on immobilising her and getting her in shape to get to the hospital comfortable that you didn’t think to grab your jacket from the table to cover up a bit of your pride and you vividly remembered packing up most of the spares from your locker to give them a wash over the weekend. The familiar chill of the ER enveloped you and you were all too aware of the tiny denim cut offs and the bra baring button up tied at your waist. When you planned the outfit you were hoping for a ‘forget about him’ hookup and a night of good riding jokes and before the leg disaster it gave you a good confidence boost- you looked good, hell you looked fantastic and you felt like an idiot. Your hand shot up to take the hat off before making a run to the lockers but Ellis caught a glimpse of you as you did and her face split in a shit eating grin.

“Now, that’s a look-”

“We’ve seen less clothed people come in-”

“Not doctors.”

“I’m off the clock”

“Or off the cock?”

“This Cowgirl didn’t get to do any riding seeing as the rodeo was closed due to injury.”

“How did that happen?”

“She’s really into Sabrina Carpenter and a clumsy drunk.”

The face you got out of her told you all you needed to know, while your shifts now rarely overlapped you became good friends during your residency but Ellis had the face of a shark on her as she opened her mouth to speak:

“Our good attending Doctor Abbot is actually with your Bride, they’re in Trauma 2 if you want to go hold your friends hand and help with her medical history before she goes for an x-ray. Oh she is quite the talker”

“Wasn’t Shen with her?”

“Oh he was but he called in Abbot so he could go check up on his other patients-”

There was that shark smile again.

“I’ll kill him.”

You felt a blush creeping from your chest as you turned to walk but before you knew it she was right by your side 

“-let me walk you actually, wouldn’t want to miss his face-”

“I think I can find my way to it just fine, just get me a shovel to dig my grave once I’m back.”

“You’re telling me I have to miss seeing you give Rabbit a heart attack?”

“You have to miss my last moments in the pitt before one of the attendings finds out from my very drunk friend a lot of crap that no one is supposed to know about.”

She turned back to her chart, still smiling before saying one last thing

“- don’t tell that to the all the money we all have in the betting pool”

“Oh fuck me.”

“He might!”

You left with a middle finger in the air and your cowboy hat by her chart. Running a hand over the ponytails you attempted before the party you made your way to the room Becca was in- the motion gave you a sense of comfort. You had never felt more awkward in the ER in your life, you had gotten puked and pissed on here, you had said stupid stuff, you had blushed from head to toe the first time Abbot whispered good job to you, you had gossiped and placed bets here and you were dragging your pink boot clad feet because who the fuck knew what Becca had already told him. Sighing you pressed the button to enter the room.

“Any allergies?”

He asked, not turning around from her.

“Oh I thought you left! You didn’t tell me he was this nice!”

If you weren’t in it you’d think it was funny, your cool, calm, collected, attending turned towards you and his eyebrows met that gorgeous hairline at the same time his lips turned into a smirk.

"Well Howdy there."

"Hello Doctor Abbot."

You forced out as confidently as you could trying not to curl into yourself.

“Where’s the rest of your shirt?”

“Lost it at the rodeo?”

“Ah.”

Eloquent Doctor Abbot

“She hasn’t got any allergies, she’s full of tequila and you can’t trust a word she says- when’s she in line for an x-ray?”

“As soon as I can decipher who the hot doctor she keeps asking about is.”

Becka gave you an innocent smile and you made a list of places no one would find her body.

“You uh-do that and I’ll call Jules, her fiancée.”

“Oh I think we’re close to roping the answer Cowgirl.”

You nodded awkwardly and tried not to notice the way his eyes that usually looked straight into yours lingered on the exposed torso and the delicate skin of your collarbones. 

______________________________________________________________

“Last rodeo or last ride?”

Asked one of your friends while you were at the bar waiting for more drinks.

“Last rodeo, I think, I hope she’ll still get to ride.”

You shared a laugh, leaning on the bar.

“The blond in the corner has been checking you out.”

“Not my type.”

“What is your type?”

She asked as you made your way back through the bodies surrounding you.

“You’ll judge-”

“Are you still into old guys?”

“I thought you had a good relationship with your father?”

Cut in a third friend getting Becca’s attention.

“Is this about the hot guy that works with you?”

“Are you having  a sexy Grey’s style affair in the hospital?”

“No, it’s not like that-”

“But he is a father figure by what I’ve heard-”

“Gross Beck.”

“Oh do tell?”

You took a drink of your pornstar martini in an attempt to hide your blush as Becca recounted your descriptions of Jack, well Doctor Abbot, you rarely called him Jack. Only in those strange quiet moments when you felt like there might be something there, sharing a drink after a long shift, sitting leg to leg.

“Salt and pepper curls, giant bulging biceps, ex- military and ticks her competence kink- from what I’ve gathered. ”

“You having a competence kink makes so much sense babe.”

You let the martini do the talking:

“Look, I saw him donate blood and work on a patient at the same time and he has hands that look like they know what they’re doing and I am not saying that he looks like he could fuck me into a wall nor that I want it but it is hard to focus some times.”

“So how much older is he?”

“Old enough to be my young father. like 15, 20 years?”

“So how big of a hand are we talking about here?”

“Big enough that you should do something about it.”

“Like risk my job by having a relationship with my boss?”

“He’s not technically your boss! Not that I wouldn’t fuck your boss if he’s ever lonely.”

You choked on your drink as the group continued laughing.

______________________________________________________________

You made your way to the too familiar vending machines to grab a tea and a snack- a headache was building behind your eyes, a combination of the tiredness and slight hangover. You let Jules know Becca was alive and on her way to an x-ray and she let you know she’ll swing by the bar to grab your stuff before coming in to take care of Becca and relieving you of your duties. God the whole hospital will know by tomorrow, maybe Gloria would fire you and then you can jump off the roof and never think about the way his eyes darkened as you opened the door again. You were so far down that rabbit hole that you didn’t hear him come up.

“She’s up for an x-ray as we speak.”

You startled a bit but nodded your head once you registered what he said before turning to face him. He looked good, he always looked good when he had on that bemused smile and held your stare.

“I wanted to apologise for whatever she said if you’re uncomfortable-”

You started babbling, words falling from your mouth in a river of apologies and excuses as he took the jacket you didn’t even notice he had over his arm and placed it around your shoulders and you shut up at the motion, his hands still on your shoulders.

“You look like you’re cold, cowboy. It’s a good look on you, but I think you always look good. I also think you are my favourite face I have seen all day- maybe ever. Hell, I might have to send your friend a fucking great wedding present.”

“What?”

He takes half a step closer and your breath hitches in your throat.

“I’m going to kiss you because that’s what I have wanted to do from the first day I saw you, not just now, not because you walked in looking like a western fantasy, not because I’m sorry for you or whatever you might cook up in that brilliant head-”

You cut him off this time, sneaking hands around his neck, pulling him to your height and kissing him. Your lips move together and it’s soft and steady and strong and everything you imagined it would be and it feels so right.

“Was there a hat with the outfit?”

“Fuck off Jack.”

“Say it again.”

“What, fuck off?”

“No, my name.”

And you’re both smiling so hard you think your face might split.

“Yeah- it was pink.”

And he laughs before kissing your cheek and you think that’s something you could get used to.

[edenspoem]

𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝: 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. (𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞)

summary. | next chapter (tba). you're expecting—and ellie is sick in love. one thing inhibits her: she thinks it isn't requited.

reader discretion is advised. mdni. fluff. a punch of angst: one instance of abuse. mentions of previous. pregnant!reader. jackson!loser!ellie. damaged relationship with a man explicit (for the plot.) the pining creeps in. strangers to lovers (in the future). requited but assumed unrequited love. cheesy romance scenes. evident undertones of addiction: substance mention, cannabis, strained relationships (ellie and joel common occurence. reader and their scumbag bf too). a realistic motherhood. depression. apprehension. you get it. wc: 4.3k. series masterlist.

note.

based on this anon i got. shoutout to @serqphites fr. art in header creds to @nramv. thanks to @s-4pphics for proofreading this one for me! join the discord to see content such as this in creation.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 

It is the thought that stomachs you.

“Shit,” you curse and bite the mouth that does. Mindless thing. “He’s gonna murder you, damn idiot.”

Control is contraception. You kneel your head to the faucet, its trickle the thing that embraces your ears; if you could crawl out of one, you would. Here is said to be simple. Here is an embellished free port. These people, neighbours and founders—elders, to be exacting for spiteful whims, sold the idea that you would have support and homes to crash in outside your own if it did ever crumble to the ground. Bandages to bleed in. But the shameful wound is open, unclosing. No one wants to account for a burden that isn’t their consequence.

You had a dream in the palm of your hand.

But what is wanted—is not for sale. You just assume control over disorder. It happens to a girl at least once, right? That dreadful blue in the sound once you learn for sure that you lost to it: to nature.

You wash the vacant spot.

Fucking pregnant.

It felt possible the first run to the toilet. Then, too terrible to be a lie the third roundabout. Vomit litters the porcelain basin.

Cat figured something was up before you caught this nauseous spell. She mentioned and argued that your constant trips to the bathroom were irregular, and you made light and nodded in a sunlit direction. Capering under its false pretense. “Yeah, what about it?” you segued, but not without heel-stumbling. Frou-frou foxes in Midsummer fires, your all-differentiating, all-time repeat from the Cocteau Twins; the radio thrummed with its rounding lulls and ethereals around a crowded living room, a whirling concoction for your hapless intoxication. Bird without its wings.

So is it the alcohol, or the condition—hurling you over the toilet bowl?

Either consequence creeps up from intestinal serpentining, as you pull apart your own single-headed carelessness. Who to blame, other than the carrier, right? Shit, well, a condom was used. You made with that precaution. So, are you the luckless one percent, or is the old-world hiding something important about fucking contraception? Can one girl be—ill-fated to this? You cocoon against the cupboards, slipping down the hinges, the knobs and indents. “Shit,” repeats your stunned mouth, quieter this time. 

The walls seem to listen; a disagreeing wind quivers the window.

Even if you weren’t a statistic: the abandoned alcohol, now advantaged and emptied, returned to its fine-china neighbors in your father’s parlor, is evidence. Chastisement waiting to scream. He hates parties—and with much less than a tolerant grunt, hates girls who attend them. It seems sensible; Cat is a regular host, and he chastises your friendship. 

Not her. You, being her friend.

Cat sighed, mashing the butt of her cig into a bisected can. The nutritions label was faded. “You’re a damn wreck,” within amusement, she scolded. But it was not without a heartstopper. She laughed, “If you end up pregnant, ‘m not watching the little shit. Get enougha’ that out of daycare to take it home with me as well. Damn it.” and it tore your stomach open; the organ pummeled into your serpentine guts, and the deafening throb frightened itself higher. You could taste what wanted to come up.

You swallowed. “Pregnant?” Concentrated on the purple under sienna-brown eyes. Distraction meant the world, in that moment.

She nodded—and shrugged, an unsure note. “Just a hypothetical.” 

Fuck you, psychic.

The guilt was beginning to make itself felt. You relapsed, in a heartfelt confession, to a state of adolescence this evening. “You’re so goddamn selfish!” It is one thing to be treated as innocent; Mateo could be condescending at times, but to be spoken at like a cruel, bird-brained and intentioned child, and with innocence, crushed you. He argued that wanting to keep this pregnancy—after you gave him the boot—was not your moral to preach while consequences were afoot. “Do you really think you have it in you to be a mother?”

Fetal termination exists, still, in the apocalypse. At life-threatening costs. That was reason enough to let nature take its pathological course.

One tremble. “Yes.” You are a child again.

You can see it in his lineaments. He flinches his person in disgust, hundred somethings held under his tongue. “If you want to believe that.” The air is too pure for him. He rifles the cartridges on his wardrobe for a lighter, joint in the opposite hand. He takes a drag, hides his face with the pungent result, and espies the resentment shining your under-eyes with less care than before; these are just crocodile tears to him. “Sure,” he shrugs.

Then his attention drops a little lower than your chest, a brief change of heart. You feel the need to crawl inside your arms. More than ever.

He points with the smoldering dog-end. Silence snaps. “Not mine.” Flicking it to enunciate himself. The discarded state of him, and his disclaim, leaves a bitter taste in your mouth—if not the entire esophageal hole. Your lungs: filled with his exhaust. “Go find some other dude to blame. M’sure you had a couple who..” The joint finds its purpose again. “Might happen to look a little more identical,” he accuses.

You left before the air became his.

Time does not bring relief; the emptiness in your bed does anything but suffer silence. The growing hours are loud, and Jackson is still a paradise to some who are convinced it has its comforts.

You all have lied.

𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡

“Of course he went and narced on her to her father!” 

Jackson is outside the rest of America. Yes, it craters in national alpines, but it was a roadside seedling at the end of the last generation. Wood rotted to cordyceps in its neighbors; this place was given a second life. The standing tables here in the one and alone bar—the famous, aliased Bison—are so red, so wood-strong, so anointed with caring hands, you can catch a glimpse of yourself in it. 

Cat treats it with the same purpose as if it were decades ago, and nothing ever happens here; she slams her lighter and pint glass down on it—pissed to express the least of the most. “Who else does shit like that?”

Despite the fact that Cat is virtually your sister from another mother, you went to Jesse about the argument first. He isn't a volatile pipe bomb with ears and earful intentions that create more harm, not good; she absolutely fucking is. One mention, and her fingertips are spitting fire. Cast iron doesn't even get near hot enough as the hands that share a piece of her trouble-starved mind.

But, she found out regardless. Not that you should ever stop her from; on some occasions, she has the right.

Jesse left your big news out of it, though. Not his right to tell.

“His corner of the town,” Jesse adds, his soft fingers around his glass, and up to his splitting mouth. He glances round the booth in search of all attention. Sure of it, he piled on. “Got a lotta assholes with the same notions in mind.” Chuting a sip of wine—a drink which lost its romantic significance to casual consumption, on par with beer—down his gullet.

Slow, agreeing nods pass around until another lip chips in. “Fucking dick.” Ellie, with the fullest glass, and untethered fingers tapping about the rim, has her head resting low on one fist, doubled over the curl-leaf surface. 

Jesse scoffed. “Tell me about it.” Sardonic sort of response—to her short, but symptomatic one. He leans in his corner and trains the attention on her, a question in his squint. “Say, Ellie, you dealt with him on occasion, right? When he collaborated with Eugene. All that weed?”

She hates to hear it. “Just one time.” In her head—her head when it escapes out here into social wilderness—she was a good girl. Clean, rectified, an adolescent state of mind, and it has the whole world to do with Joel and learning to forgive. It is the least bit detectable on the outside, but she really is doing better than before. Rough-faced or not. “What about it?” She looks up, at last, the perfect shrug to her cross-question.

“Was she even there?”

Ellie crumpled up having to account for that one time; wrinkles in the brows, a snagged or yawning mouth, post-insomniac ripples and redness in her optic profile. Imagine an irate basset hound.“Reno?” She means your given alias: Reno, or Nevada, your origins. And she is Boston, or Massachusetts. “No, not at all.”

“See, he makes that shit up all the time,” Cat interludes. “First it was Justice, then it was me who he ratted out to Maria. Stopped trading with him after.” 

Jesse has not traded once, or thought to smoke pot once, but he agrees. “Mhm.” A man of no judgement—when it comes to friends.

Sunset is climbing and pushing to stoop in the apertures of the table. The lithe, gold tadpole-ends creeping in, beating over faces, and so the restaurant had its lights switched on to make up for those recalcitrant pockets; soft, water-black mottles in the deeper corners. Ellie laced fists, cupping one around the other, and a particular string of light dug for this vulnerable formation. She has a heap to process in her own head; the sudden silence, deafening.

Shifting to his elbows, Jesse rests his well-slept eyes on her—a sore sight. “Gonna finish that?” He points, withheld fingers stretching for his own glass.

She clicks her tongue to her teeth. “Nah,” responding with whatever is left in her, a breath or a reaching-more. The glass grates as she hardly straightens her fingers to push it aside. “Tastes different.”

The claim draws out the doubt from their faces. “Tastes the same as before,” Jesse professes as he rolls the last droplets of his wine past his lips and along the columns of his throat, replacing his grip with the full glass of scotch, sunlight streaming through the liquid with blonde lines against nectar-gold. Her choice of spirits. “I best be joinin’ Seth in the kitchen. Have fun, ladies.” He crawls knee-first from the booth.

Cat shoots an astonished sneer, one he cannot see or sense in his bones as his legs were haste to vault the counter. 

Ellie does, though. And she is too low-spirited to guess what for and laugh; a strange demeanor. “Hmm?”

“He'll be drunk on the job,” she clarifies. “But, I guess it's up to who cares. Not enough for me to keep watch.” And she, too, sidles out from the cornered booth, leather brushing against denim. Watching Jesse vanish behind the crowded bar made her suppose it's that time; the fading sun calls you home, and when it does, you go home. Nothing more to it in Jackson. “See ya, geek.”

She waves with an unprepared hand. “Yup. See you too..”

The jog home was not without its usual discomforts. Paths, loved still by a residual winter, were hard not to slip on. The unhesitating side-eyes were too common to dash out of their sight. Ellie is aware of what has them wringing their necks just to look at her, but as it continued, she just accepted it. 

Her hoodie is half-sufficient. “Fuckin’ warm up already,” she curses, digging both fists into her pockets for warmth outside the steeple church. She notices three distinct paraphernalia in her pocket when her knuckles hit the seam: the larger, thicker one is obvious—Joel's watch. She inherited it on her own terms when he wasn't there. “Ow! Shit!” The cracked dial case nicks her for her mindlessness.

Second one is a mechanical lighter. Last time she wore this hoodie, she was squinting back the tears after telling Joel she didn't need his fucking help.

Ellie pinches the thinner, paper-textured item, and pulls it out with no clue to what it might be. This should be a simple guess.

Old feelings rush when she sees it in-between her fingers.

“Fuck.”

The word goes quiet in the night. Surrounding sycamores rustle, listening, and they respond with the eerie wind that rouses through their crown-shying bough. Invisible hands dislodge the strand from behind her ear.

Something shifts in her to listen in return.

She raises her chin. Gazes into pitch-blackness with a racing heart; her trees are there somewhere. Under the hole of light up there.

Ellie believed, from a very naive and insignificant age, that she was born and fell from the bough of a tree. The idea has some flesh and blood to it; her mother is unknown to her. She has the head of hair of the autumn sycamores, burning oranges, and delightful greens. Too green yet; left without the hour to decide what living meant and what her reason was to begin doing so—to live. She was given a gun before she was given a purpose. At least to her, matured and ripened, that is how it seems. Little bit careless considering her important condition; did Marlene think it through? Looking up into the same blanket of nothingness, she ponders whether reigniting this bad habit would still get her to the moon or not—if the world ever returned to pre-apocalypse.

From the hour you're born, you begin to die.

Simone de Beauvoir.

“Make it seven?” quoting herself, she slots the pointed end of the joint in-between her fresh-licked, rose-kissed lips and hopes she suffers no bite from it in the future. “Fuck it.” The watch becomes the last thing in her pocket. Flick, flick.

Her lungs fill with nostalgia.

“Ah..”

And puff.

She purses her mouth into an open ring, the somber, but lit against its will, night stolen from her sight in a cloud of white. It ebbs the stress in her she had not noticed was beginning to pulse again, searching for her heart with a pair of circling fingers. She palms her chest down. Maybe this is what the wind was telling her.

Ellie is nowhere near stoned, but swears she can feel it slowing. Easing her into something good, this time around. It feels good to have faith in something true.

Silence bends, not snaps. It fits in the gentle start of sobs, a dreadful blue sound, enough to interrupt her star-watching. She pierces around the grassplot for a source and sees the woman of the hour. 

Guitar strums pick up in the wind.

She recognises who it is.

The sniffles reel her over. You see a pair of slow-strolling converse, scratching the ground upon steps, before you see the person. She stands an illuminated silhouette under stelliform, globe-string lanterns, the same ones from the winter dance a week ago that no one has thought to disassemble, several feet from your place on this bench. 

Her heart has no reason to be thumping.

Strange, the smoke coming from her mouth, like a gun, is not unsettling—it should be. It parts when it clears. “Hey.” Her hesitant voice pricks your skin with goosebumps. Thinned-out, mint eyes at first glance harsh, but gentle at the second; the tired under-beds of purple is a prevalent stigma, but the shining pupil crawling over her iris struck this overwhelming sense of being understood. The soft structure of her face clasps them. 

She looks at you like she has no clue what you are, but in the same glance has been raptured with an idea of what you could be. Creature to creature.

Watching, for a long time.

You wipe the cold under your nose onto your sleeve. Hesitant as she is. “Oh, have I taken your spot?” The first thing that comes to mind rolls from your tongue. You begin to collect yourself without an answer.

She stutters, her mouth ahead of her thoughts. “No, n-no! You're totally fine.” Hand freeing from her pocket to pause you. 

She seems sweet.

Her curious eyes drop to where your arms are tangled—sheathed around yourself. You haven't moved them since.

Ellie cannot handle these lingering pre-spring conditions, even in her getup. The white avenues are gone but the winds have fought abating, the worst of the weather at night. In your case, a thin cardigan, she can only imagine.

She thumbs her hem. “Are you cold?”

You register that it might seem that way shooting a once-over glimpse of her collar—blue plaid poking through. To be honest, the cool air slipping under and around the hemlines hasn't occurred to you until she made a scene of it.

“Here,” she quietens, rustling in her layers. The slate-grey hoodie is folded outside-in and being offered before you can protest your independence. Nothing but misunderstandings have come between you and her. Charitable ones. “Keep it. I need to clean out my wardrobe, as others would say, anyway.”

It is a small, nothing-much distraction, but you wonder who others are to her. Good, or damaged too?

Someone once said: it's more trouble to refuse help where it is cost-free. You decide to trust that sentiment and crawl from your arms, reluctant to reply. “Too many hoodies?” Letting a glint of light peek through, you let something slip identical to a laugh. It sounds so unfamiliar.

Hers sounds perfect. “No, uh—sneakers, actually. Been told I have too many pairs.” She laughs again. You adjust the hoodie around your waist.

Your ears ride on the grace of that laugh. Replay, replay, and replay it in your head to the point your eyes are staring absent-minded and the colors on her person begin to remind you of a sycamore in autumn. Her deep-auburn burns with the lantern glow, the collected bundle of mane under the hind of her head an incurious shadow still. You wonder if it comes from her mother, or her father: the fire. “Yeah, been there.” Your answer has no substance to it either; you have nothing but a couple worn-out pairs. Your mouth is just saying things—the mindless thing.

Her mouth line shrinks from its last laugh. She now smiles small, with a feature she can't wipe off curling. “Yeah.” She catches your timid voice and echoes it, glancing down before she releases the joint in her fingers to the ground, squashing it under her sneaker. She twists it around, a mix of earth and ash scraping.

It blows a kiss of smoke.

Reminds you of those stump puffballs—mushrooms, bubbling in the depressions of dead or decaying wood, that puff green when puttered at by an early curiousness. One enveloped the tip of your shoe with it when you were little: stretching your underdeveloped leg that managed to reach once through a metal fence peeled at the sides, making squeamish cries when the thing of nature fumed. Memories do return full circle.

She leans an inch on her toes, still absorbed with the ground. The orange roots of her lashes catch that same fire. 

Who is she?

For a small town, you should know; there are a few hundred faces in Jackson. But hers is not one you can remember. It seems misplaced. Her brown freckles are symptomatic of the sun. She lets quiet drapings of stress hang from her tear corners to her anti-brows, not so conventional for her age, but unafraid. Her stares are soft, and don't make you feel like a gullible child or a faithless woman.

She looks like she was born in the springtime, but made for October.

“Thanks, again.” You tire restless from that word. Said too often, heard too often. When will there be more? 

You notice her half-arm tattoo right as it gets concealed, the strange comfort pulling her ruched, blue sleeves to her wrists. She pins the hems into her palms with her fingers. “It's nothin’,” she humbles. Her lips and nostrils are redder when she abandons her focus from the ground. No doubt she burns without trying in the summer. “Uh, I should be going—now.” She sidles in a direction and you feel urged to follow with your eyes. She uses her arm in a nervous toss to demonstrate where she is headed. “Do me a favor and get home safe, yeah?”

“Of course.” You watch with a farewell smile, a sweet shape creeping on your lips you can't stop. Maybe, you don't want to. Then, remembering one thing important to you, the so-called sweet mouth curses again. “Fuck, her name!”

You hope the two of you stumble into each other again, on some distant morning or near night. And learn her name, just not at your lowest.

Those guitar strings stop with no one around.

𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Late night dislodges from the space ahead and is punctured with light. Slipping through the door, closing it behind, a home of damaged goods that should feel familiar and smell of floral nothings repulses you at the entrance. You catch it as soon as it hits—alcohol, marijuana.

Mateo. 

Your throat burns from the scent.

His presence becomes known through a sharp shout. “Fuck took you so long?” It stabs through the house, the walls thin enough to not be considered in this, or his, material world. 

His rage begins to beat, one foot after the other, on the hardwood floors, and your hand returns to where it felt it was needed. Hoodie fabric—that smells nothing like here, or him—is palmed in-between. Your heart pumps with fear and knowing; God is not restless to punish, but a darker, closer, corporeal counterpart is and he steals you from this life on earth, and he tells you that you have not suffered enough. The stranger in this hoodie is your tether. 

But, after that fleeting conversation with the girl in the common acres, you feel you have known her for ages—and you're dating a stranger.

Swallow your pride and knowledge. He will smite you for it. “Um, Cat.” Quick, quick, the lump goes. But slow, slow, the lie creeps and is hesitant to be heard, afraid of its flaws. You turn to the kitchen before his ugly, three-headed emergence, running a hand over the budding holes of flowers. Jesse cut them from his garden, a secret congratulations from him and his mother. “She went to Bison and called me along. Time gotta-'head of us in there. Sorry, baby,” you stall, trembling.

The drunken stench gets worse. You cough but the air is all the same.

His footsteps take a pause at what you sense to be the fridge, a thimble distance. The kitchen, entrance, and couch are all subsided into one long room and aren't interrupted with inessential walls. Trailer gradient. It is not so glamorous as it is discreet; months into the relationship you noticed its perfect usage for taboo practice. The earth tries to return to itself as paint peels from the walls.

He converges with the eerie silence. 

It is his discontinuation that turns you around. Otherwise, his hands fallow and large would be and in each press would be apologies you have heard in timeless befores. This time—out of all times—he just stares at you, head to toe, without one. Checking, like, to see if you're all there.

No. He is looking at you like you have done something wrong.

Scrunching up, you blurt. “What?” Quiet. Weak. But you regret your tone as it leaves your throat. The gestures blow your cover wide open.

He knows. “Somethin’ up?” And that is his cue to creep with inertia, his unwillingness to confront a potential problem, his face you cannot read. His alcohol kisses are disguises and his blows to your soul are the realest emotions he has stirred in you, post-beginning. Your nights begin with expectation.

He will either be enraged or lethargic.

But he stops crawling too close to the sun and reaches the rest with his hand, pinching the sleeve of the hoodie, rolling it together. His face shifts and unfortunately—you can read it.

Fuck.

He has his idea. “Where did you get this shit from?” You wish he drank himself to bed; his breath is hot, biting and in your senses and he does his part to fill each nerve. He has your arm, but he could very well have your heart, too. In his grasp. “No, better question—who did you get it from?” 

Cold sweat. You answer on high alert.

“Cat!”

He chews it up. “No.” Shakes his head, pins the sun closer in on itself. The counter pinches your lower-spine. “She doesn’t do weed no fuckin’ more. This smells of it. Who does it belong to, huh! One of mine?” 

Yelling is nothing compared to his gaping volume. 

Your eardrums wobble. “No,” refuting, you open yourself to him. Open to his open-ended judgement. He out-reprimands—until it clicks. “Are you sure it isn't just you?” 

He is just projecting.

Where did that come from?

Mateo fumes. His seams come apart. “Yeah, is it just me?” His rhetorical disturbs the somehow sound of nothing, but the hope that it would be yelling and nothing else—bangs against the cupboards. He holds your head in the side of it.

The impact disorients you from this kitchen.

You expect to meet a floor next.

As soon as the sharp pain leaves, it returns. He uses the lightheaded silence he created as a second reason to wrangle you a sweep over, aiming your head—or the whole, his anger is extensive—into the fridge. “Stupid bitch!” The door handle gets you in the stomach before he can.

It escapes your throat with a bubble of nothing to come out.

“Hope that solves your morning issue.” And it stops there. On the cold, slate tile. You have been here before.

Made swollen sounds.

You clutch for the floor. The floor that exists in your mind; too flat for any percievable grasp, your fingers find themselves in your palms, indenting. You press and tighten, searching for pain, but her sweatshirt is long and loved enough to protect those parts of your hands. 

You regret having a mouth.

Small room, big conniption. You feel a little too seen retrieving your tears through these wordless-oath, congested inhales. Being in here is suffocating. Outside was bigger; omnipresent, not so wall-to-wall, not so focused on your problems.

But you catch her scent. Not the thing he smelled. Her scent.

Unnostalgic.

Wearing a little bit of some-stranger-else does have a coalescing effect. Some chemical change. Rewiring.

Does she?

fic taglist: @sabrinathewitchh982 @baptismbaby @acidblum @naomqq @mariesmagix @azteriarizz @violetszn @morticeras @angitial @futac00chi3 @raid-ar @monki-nat

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comment to be on either!

[pandapetals]

sunlight & sawdust

chapter five: hydrangeas & hammers

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: For two years, Joel Miller has done nothing but scowl at you from across the room, barely tolerating your warmth, your kindness, and your ever-present sunshine. And for two years, you’ve told yourself his gruffness doesn’t bother you—that his clipped words and cold stares don’t matter.But then, out of nowhere, he offers to fix the damaged floor in your flower shop.For free.Suddenly, the man who could barely stand to look at you is showing up every day, fixing things that don’t need fixing, sharing quiet lunches, and—most shocking of all—getting along with Ellie, your daughter, who has never warmed up to anyone as quickly as she has to him.

pairing: joel miller x fem!single mom reader - no outbreak/au

content warnings: slight reader description, no y/n used, grumpy joel, grumpy x sunshine trope, ellie is reader's daughter, reader is a single mom, tommy being a meddler, reader is friends with tommy, au setting in Austin, joel is a carpenter, reader owns a flower shop, fluff, angst and eventual smut, joel is bad at feelings, sarah mentioned

a/n: divider by @saradika-graphics. this is short but i love tommy teasing joel. it has to be done.

"Please tell me you’ve made a move and haven’t just been brooding in the corner." Tommy’s voice was dripping with amusement, his smirk damn near splitting his face.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers tightening around the beer bottle in his hand. "I told you. I don’t like her."

Tommy’s smirk only widened, eyes gleaming with that I know better than you look, making Joel want to smack it right off his face.

"Sure," Tommy mumbled into his drink, chuckling under his breath.

Joel groaned, tilting his head back as if looking at the ceiling might make this conversation end. It didn’t.

The bar was busy for a Friday night, the low hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter filling the space. Joel should’ve been focused on his drink and unwinding after a long-ass week.

Instead, he was here, getting grilled by his damn brother.

"Ain’t got nothin’ to say to that, huh?" Tommy teased, taking a slow sip of his beer. "That’s really interesting, considering you usually don’t shut the hell up when tryin’ to prove a point."

Joel shot him a glare. "You hear yourself talkin’ right now?"

"Loud and clear." Tommy grinned. "Unlike someone who can’t even admit when he’s got it bad."

Joel scoffed. "You sound like a damn teenager."

"And you sound like a damn liar."

Joel took a long, slow drink of his beer, his jaw tightening.

Tommy leaned forward, lowering his voice just enough to really get under Joel’s skin. "So tell me, big brother—if you don’t like her, why’re you always at her shop?"

"I’m fixin’ the floor, dumbass."

"Mhm. And how come every time I bring her up, you look like you wanna throw somethin’?"

Joel shot him another glare. "Because you won’t shut up about it."

Tommy barked out a laugh, slapping a hand on the table. "Man, you are so far gone, it ain’t even funny."

Joel grunted, setting his beer down a little harder than necessary. "Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, far too smug for Joel’s liking. "Yeah? Then why’re you gettin’ all flustered?"

Joel pointed a finger at him. "I ain’t flustered."

Tommy just laughed. "Right. Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Joel muttered under his breath, shaking his head, but the truth was? That damn flower was still sitting on his nightstand at home. The one you’d left at the diner and the one Ellie had given him.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

"Oh, look—here she comes." Tommy’s voice was all smug amusement, and the second the words left his mouth, Joel tensed.

His fingers had twitched against his beer bottle before, and without thinking, he smoothed a hand over his hair—just a quick fix, nothing obvious.

But it was too late. Tommy saw and he lost it.

A loud, sharp laugh burst from his chest, drawing more attention than Joel would’ve liked.

"Jesus, man!" Tommy wheezed, slapping the table. "Ain’t flustered my ass. I was joking, and here you are, fixin’ your hair like a damn schoolboy tryin’ to impress his crush."

Joel stiffened, heat creeping up his neck.

Oh, he was definitely gonna deck his brother.

"The hell is wrong with you?" he growled, narrowing his eyes.

Tommy just kept laughing, leaning back in his chair, absolutely thriving in Joel’s misery.

"I was just messin’ with you!" Tommy grinned, shaking his head. "Wish you coulda seen your damn face, though. You looked real pretty for a second there."

Joel gritted his teeth, his fingers itching to throw a punch—or, at the very least, knock Tommy’s beer clean out of his hand.

Tommy’s laughter finally died down after a full minute—a full damn minute—before he took another sip of his beer, shaking his head.

"I invited her out tonight, but she texted me sayin’ she couldn’t get a babysitter for Ellie."

Joel stilled.

Something stupid and sharp twisted in his chest.

He had no right to feel anything about that. None at all. But still—Tommy had your number?

Of course, he did. You two were friends. Had been for years. Tommy was just the kind of guy people liked, the kind who could strike up a conversation with a stranger and walk away with a new best friend.

Joel was… not that guy. He was just your friend’s brother.

Nothing more.

"Don’t care," Joel muttered, taking another swig of his beer, hoping it would wash down the very unwelcome feeling creeping up his throat.

Tommy snorted. "Yeah? Then why you grittin’ your teeth so hard? You tryin’ to break ‘em?"

Joel shot him a glare, but Tommy just grinned, unbothered as ever.

"It’s funny how you claimed to hate her, then turned right around and offered to fix her flower shop floor for free." Tommy shook his head, smirking. "You confuse me, brother."

Joel groaned, tilting his beer bottle back, taking a long drink, willing himself to shut up, but the words slipped out anyway.

"Why ain’t you ever made a move?"

Tommy blinked, caught off guard.

Joel instantly regretted asking.

"What?" Tommy laughed. "Me and her? C’mon, man. She’s like family."

Joel grunted, nodding a little too quickly. "Right. Yeah. That makes sense."

Tommy narrowed his eyes, watching him. "Why? You jealous?"

"The hell would I be jealous for?" Joel scoffed, setting his bottle down with a thud.

"Good question," Tommy smirked, then leaned in slightly. "You sure you don’t wanna ask me somethin’ else while we’re at it? Maybe somethin’ about her? ‘Cause I know you wanna."

Joel glared. "I don’t."

Tommy just waited.

Joel exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw before muttering, "How come she’s a single mom, then?"

Tommy’s expression shifted, the teasing edge softening just a little. "Her ex was never in the picture. Didn’t want the responsibility."

Joel’s grip tightened around his bottle.

"So it’s just her and Ellie?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

Joel was quiet for a second, tapping his fingers against the glass.

"Ellie like you?"

Tommy huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I’d say so. The kid’s a firecracker, though. Takes a bit to warm up to people." He shot Joel a knowing look. "She warmed up to you yet?"

Joel grunted, staring into his drink like it might get him out of this conversation.

"Mhm. Thought so," Tommy mused, sitting back with a grin. "Y’know, I could give you some advice on how to charm her."

Joel scowled. "I don’t need your damn advice."

"Sure, sure," Tommy smirked, raising his beer. "You just keep pretendin’ you don’t care while you ask me every damn thing about her. See how that works out for ya."

Joel grumbled under his breath and took another swig of his beer, but the truth was?

It wasn’t working out for him at all.

taglist: @hermionelove, @niceforcum, @ashhlsstuff, @doeeyestoji, @12thatsanumber, @cherrygirl19, @thottiewinemom, @ladynightingale, @doodlebob-mp3, @alitaar

[bunslora]

i'll die anyway ᯓ★ bff.ᐟellie x reader

summary: lesbian yearning..

tags: suggestive , alcohol consumption , men dni .

wc: 618

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"never have i ever—" ellie looks at you, straight faced, fully serious. "oh fuck off, are you twelve?" you shoot back, trying to stifle a giggle. you pass her the shitty bottle of rum the two of you had swiped from joel while downstairs moments before. ellies space patterned bedsheets crinkle beneath her lap as she takes a swig of the liquor. her face scrunches at the harsh taste, and you notice yourself watching in silent endearment, something that is not an uncommon occurrence for you.

"fine—" you look at her intently, barely long enough for it to mean anything. barely long enough for her to notice. at least, thats what you tell yourself. what you've been telling yourself. "never have i ever.." you make an over exaggerated show of pondering as you pretend to think. "never have i ever been caught by my father looking at—you know what, im actually not going to recount it..however i am confident you can fill in the blanks—" ellie rolls her eyes, as you continue whatever monologue you've prepared for her. "while being at a family dinner." you make sure to emphasise each word as you attempt to hold back a laugh that threatens to spill out from your chest.

"yeah, no, its not funny if you're the only one laughing," ellie grumbles, trying to make an effort to look entirely unamused. "also—" she starts, apparently not done, "you can't say things you know i've already done." you catch her gaze, "well—shall i try again?" you tease. "uh, no, dickhead its my go" she says in turn. "okay, so stop whining and get on with it then." you say, stealing the bottle from her grasp.

you drink from the bottle, grimacing as the taste refuses to improve. "never have i ever been a pretentious asshole." ellie says, looking almost proud with her question. you smile at her, amused, and ask, "define pretentious." ellie glares at you, although there is no real malice in the action. "unfortunately, that doesn't answer my question" she retorts, as she leans impossibly closer, you could almost taste the liquor on her breath—a contradiction, given that the two of you were already practically sitting on top of each other.

the bottle, now getting awfully close to being three-quarters empty, rested at the curve of your smile as you bring it closer to your lips for another sip. you lean back, offering a sliver of distance between you both. the motion causes your shirt to ride up, allowing for a glimpse of your laced underwear to peak above the waistband of your jeans. too subtle to be an invitation, yet too deliberate for it to feel unintentional. feigning innocence, you pretend not to notice the way ellies gaze trails down from your face to your torso. her hand wraps around yours, gently loosening the bottle from your grip before bringing it to her lips for a swig of the liquor.

"ellie—" you look at her as you begin to steady yourself, the hum of alcohol becoming more prominent. you move closer, continuing whatever you had begun to say. "you're staring." you announce, like she wasn't already aware. theres a beat of charged silence before she responds—"am i?" she says, attempting to convey ignorance, but the implications are still laid out in front of you both.

you sigh, "you're impossible", and with that ellie looks at you—the atmosphere swims with something inescapable; adoration? love? desire? devotion? whatever it is, ellie smiles regardless, a look that could almost be catagorised as hesitancy before she speaks. "i think you like it" she says. "and i think you're drunk." you say in return. takes one to no one.

might do a part 2!!

[miajooz]

Lens ✦ Photographer!Ellie HCS

Photographer!Ellie who fell in love with you the first time she saw you in the studio. she was new to the agency, but when she saw you it felt motivating. she insisted on being your main photographer.

Photographer!Ellie who has every single magazine or article you were ever showed in. even if it was just a page or a single photo, she has it. she has a whole display shelf of them in her room, her favorite ones are the ones she shot herself. the amount she paid for the older ones on ebay is downright embarrassing. but why would she care? she had all the magazines!

Photographer!Ellie who literally fought a man at the checkout in a walmart for the newest magazine. what was she supposed to do, let him have it? hell no, not when you were literally on the front cover.

Photographer!Ellie who can’t help but mutter compliments when she’s photographing you. she thinks you don’t hear her, but you do. you always catch onto the way she flicks her tongue against the inside of her cheek or how she looks at the camera with wide, enamored eyes, when she tries to keep her mouth shut. or maybe when you’re just in some kind of revealing outfit. or maybe, any outfit at all drives her crazy.

“point your chin a bit to the left, yeah?”

“damn..”

“you’re so perfect, you look gorgeous in that.”

“eyes on the camera, pretty girl.”

Photographer!Ellie who draws sketches of your body in certain outfits. she makes her own little fantasies of things she wants to see you in, or maybe just things she wants to photograph you in. the amount of times she’s shown her ideas to dina (the manager) was downright shameful.

“can’t you just consider it? you know it’ll look good on her!” she urged, holding her sketch up to dina. the sketch was too perfect, there was so much detail to your body it was amusing. that’s because she had a million magazines at home for reference.

dina just shook her head and sighed, but she found enjoyment in this. dina was the one who convinced ellie to join her agency in the first place. “i’m sure it would look great, ellie.” she said, clearly just amusing her ideas.

ellie looked hopeful, though it vanished when she saw dina laughing at her. “are you serious? you know the agency and people would love to see this, it’s a good idea!” she argued, trying to sound generous. but maybe she just wanted a magazine in her collection with her ideas.

“i’m sorry, you don’t have a say in these things. you’re a photographer, you should’ve went up. but no, you wanted to be the main photographer for your girlfriend.” she’d say teasingly, but she always felt and when ellie looked defeated. “i’m just playing, i’ll see what i can do.

Photographer!Ellie who’s so used to seeing your perfect shoots, she notices the smallest errors. if a hair is sticking up, to a piece of cloth is wrinkled in a non-calculated way. absolutely everything.

“no, no. we gotta retake that one, do you see how slanted that eyelash is?” ellie would say, shaking her head at the photos while you waited there happily.

“bitch, it’s an eyelash. are you being serious?”dina would argue, knowing nobody would notice such a thing besides ellie.

“yes, fix it.” she’d urge, waving her hand dismissively and requesting somebody to come and fix your one eyelash.

then she’d look at you and just smile, “hang on, hun. you’re almost perfect.”

Photographer!Ellie who actually had the balls to ask you out. she went on a whole ramble about how pretty she thought you were and how she changed her whole schedule so she could photograph you. it was so adorable, she stood there with her hands behind her back and her camera over her neck. you were in some sort of pretty, silk dress. she was so cute, how could you say no?

Photographer!Ellie who took photos of you on your date. she insisted on bringing her camera, she wanted to see you in a more natural setting. it was better than she could’ve ever imagined, she fell even harder. it was like all those imperfections caused by the wind or just existing didn’t matter, they only did in a studio. you didn’t have to try and be perfect for her, you already were.

Photographer!Ellie who invited you over after your first date. when she invited you into her room to show off some of her work—you found the magazine collection. better yet, you found all the sketches she made of you. to say you were flattered was an understatement. despite your flattery, ellie was absolutely mortified.

Photographer!Ellie who asked you to be her girlfriend while you were at her house, literally taking off your makeup from a photo shoot. there was mascara smudged on your face and you looked like an absolute clown. you felt embarrassed for being asked when you looked like a horror movie figure—but something about this way she asked you even if you didn’t look as presentable made it so much better. she asked because she loves you, not because of an appearance. you only kissed her when your face was all clean.

Photographer!Ellie who has a ton of polaroids of the two of you together, or just you. you were more of a crafty person, so you made it into a scrapbook. that’s probably her favorite item in her house.

Photographer!Ellie who has various photographs of your body. she can’t do naked ones in the studio, so she does it at home. it’s not even in a sexual way, your body is just so gorgeous to her. you’re a literal work of art in her eyes.

“shit, babe. i wish i could frame that..”

“your back is so attractive to me, you’re so perfect.”

“can you keep your eyes on me? yeah, just like that.”

“atta girl, pose.”

NSFW ✦ HCS*

Photographer!Ellie who has explicit photos of you too. she always begs to do more sultry ones, the sight of you in such positions drives her crazy. mainly because she can have something to look at when you’re busy or away.

Photographer!Ellie who orders you around during said photoshoots. she likes it when she gets to decide things, considering she is such a neat freak. only in photography

“spread your legs further, sweetheart.”

“ah, ah, look up. i wanna see your face.”

“can you take it? should i put the camera away?”

“quit squirming, please. i can’t take the photo if you move.”

“yeah? do you like that? wanna show the camera how much you like it?”

Photographer!Ellie who has the most wild snapchat “my eyes only” section. it’s mainly you—no, all of it’s you. various photos from her fucking you in front of a mirror to just small clips of her fingering you. she loves to watch them over and over again.

Photographer!Ellie who will literally show you those videos while she fucks you if you’re being a brat.

“you see how good you were being last time? what happened, hm?”

“look at the way you squirted there, do you want me to make you do that again? stop giving me attitude and maybe i’ll make it worse for you.”

worse. worse meant better.

Photographer!Ellie (for the sub ellie enjoyers) who had a video of you eating her out too. she took it because she thought it would be hot. unfortunately, the sounds she made humiliated her. she couldn’t handle the teasing from you, so she disposed of it.

Photographer!Ellie who begs to please you, quite often. she acts so confident on video but beforehand she’s literally pleading on her knees—or maybe between your knees. of course you said yes, but making her wait was fun too.

“please, i don’t even want to video it. i just need to taste you.”

“baby, can i take ‘em off? please, i’ll make you feel so good.”

“i forgot you had these panties, they look so good with a wet spot on them. can i please touch you now?”

Photographer!Ellie who always gets sad when you’re in another state/country for modeling. how could you leave her so sad!—you couldn’t. while you knew she was at work, you’d send nudes. nothing while you were touching yourself or anything, usually just a mirror picture with one boob out or something like that. sneak peaks to only keep her half pleased. she lost her mind over this, blowing up your phone with compliments or scolding you.

Photographer!Ellie who has a video of you sucking her strap, who has a video of you in reverse cowgirl, who has a straight up pussy shot of her fingers sliding inside you, the list goes on and on. it’s such a big turn on for her and she definitely infected you with that.

Photographer!Ellie who can get impatient during photoshoots, sometimes you’re there all day. what’s an ovulating woman to do, wait? no. the answer was to call for a break and take you into the bathroom, then help herself there. she’d usually get off on your thigh as she fingered you, but scissoring was also a great choice. she’d have her hand clasped over your mouth, muffling any sounds you made.

“oh i know, baby. can you save your voice for later?”

“shh, shh, do you wanna get caught?”

Photographer!Ellie who has gotten off on your panties or an article of clothing you wore for a shoot. seeing you in that and being forced to take a photo without acting was a difficult task. she’d get home and steal it from the dirty clothes bin, you were always so tired after shoots so she never asked you for anything. that’s why she used your panties instead.

“hey, babe? wanna explain why my favorite pair of designer underwear has a dry sticky spot?”

“a sticky spot? that’s odd.”

“did you cum on my underwear?”

“your mind is playing tricks on you darling, i’d never.”

A/N i’m foaming at the mouth. #NEEDTHAT

tagsss!! @eriiwaii @valeisaslut @usuck @haithone

[letoasai]

Will work for food ~ Part 4 (1/2)

Part 3 -- Master List

Danny’s hubris was coming back to bite him. It had been so funny when Nightwing–Dick–had invited him to the next family dinner. The next family dinner that happened to be Thanksgiving. Danny hadn’t had a Thanksgiving in a long, long time. He’d been delighted to accept. 

He’d nearly trilled in amusement at the way Tim flushed, kicking Dick under the table in a small attempt to get him to stop talking but the invitation had already been given. 

Danny could practically taste Dick’s glee and Tim’s embarrassment. Emotions weren’t as good as regular food but they were hard to ignore when they grew to a certain level. 

Tim had awkwardly agreed that Danny should come to dinner and Danny accepted, telling Tim to just summon him the usual way. 

It was almost unfair for him to have so much quiet knowledge surrounding their conversations, but it came in handy for the normally closed off vigilantes. Tim knew his family was a lot, and was afraid of overwhelming Danny. Their time together would have to be shared now, but Danny didn’t think that was necessarily true. Tim didn’t want to put Danny on the spot, which was kind.

Tim had always been kind. He didn’t summon Danny for favors or deals but because he could and because he cared. The emotion was so straight forward and genuine that Danny knew he was being rather selfish with it. It had been so long since he had someone new, and living, in his life. 

He lived a long life, and he would just live longer. As a halfa, and a powerful one at that, his life tap danced a precarious line. His living half would always mirror his dead half, and it had taken him some years to work out that his Phantom form could change based on his perception of himself. 

He’d spent so long thinking he might never age, that he’d stayed small for years. Barely looking older than fourteen as he’d headed for his twentieth birthday. It was then he discovered that with enough practice he could alter his Phantom hazmat suit. It was redesigned, changing as he had. He’d mentally grown over the years, his title of King only adding to his development. 

When he changed his ghostly appearance, he realized he could age to match how he felt. He could finally look like the young adult he was. That had had side effects on his living half. The growth spurts had been nearly painful, but within six months he’d change from a young teen to a young adult. 

It had been exciting, but excruciating enough that he hadn’t wanted to change his appearance so abruptly again. Changes would be slower next time, but he was unsure if he could go backwards in his living appearance.

All the same, at least he looked more like an adult. He could live as much as he was able. 

His identity reveal with his parents hadn’t exactly gone badly, but it hadn’t gone well either. Jack and Maddie had tried to accept him, but they simply couldn’t. They couldn’t look at him, and while he didn’t end up on their laboratory table, they simply pretended he didn’t exist. It hurt at the time, but he still had his sister. He had Sam and Tucker and Ellie and Val. 

Danny had moved out and for several years had pretended to be normal. It had been nice, until it had gotten boring. Danny split his time between the living and the dead, taking his role as king more seriously in the Infinite Realm over time. It got harder for him to return as his friends aged and he stayed the same. Ellie understood better how he felt, but her wanderlust kept her moving. 

He checked in often over the years, but he’d still be both delighted, and devastated the day Jazz strolled into his lair with a smile and a hello. She looked younger than she’d been in decades and Danny had clung to her and sobbed. She was here! Safe! It was wonderful. She was dead. Jazz had been old and had left behind children and grandchildren. That didn't make it easier on either of them, but they had each other.

Tucker had been next and he was torn between just hanging out in the Infinite Realm or being reincarnated again. For ages, he and Danny had just hung out and caught up, right back to being the best of friends. 

Val had followed some years later, but she had been preparing for this more than the rest of them. Her ghostly form had returned to her the Red Huntress moniker and she couldn’t be more thrilled. She wasted no time traveling with Ellie. 

Sam was the one Danny hadn’t yet been reunited with in the Infinite Realm. She was pushing a hundred, and had become the reigning ‘grandma Ida’ figure in the lives of her grandchildren and great grandchildren. Danny envied her for that. She was so supportive when their parents hadn’t been for them. 

Danny drifted off in his thoughts as he pondered his next dinner date. He was excited for a home cooked meal, but he was quietly thrilled to spend more time with Tim. He’d been neglecting a part of himself since Jazz had died and it showed. His sister was terribly excited he’d made a new friend after so long. 

When he felt the pull of a summons, Danny listened carefully, relieved to hear Tim’s voice. He’d been getting anxious just waiting around and the day had finally come. He pulled himself from the portal, turning from Phantom to Danny and tugging nervously at his sweater. He didn’t really have many nice or formal human clothes since everything in the Infinite Realm was often done in his royal regalia. 

He’d tried to look nice though. Dora had braided his hair for him in some intricate pattern and his normal NASA hoodie had been traded out for a new black hoodie gifted to him by Sam. It was over top a navy blue sweater. He probably didn’t need both but he liked to have the option of a hood. 

He wore his nicer pair of jeans and sneakers too. Honestly, if he was going to be spending time in a living dimension again, he was going to need to go shopping. 

Danny opted to appear just outside the structure he was summoned from. It felt more polite somehow to knock on the manor’s door. Sam would have loved this place. 

It only took seconds but Tim pulled the door open swiftly, he was nearly out of breath but he smiled bashfully when he greeted Danny. 

“Hey Danny.” 

“Hey,” Danny said with an awkward smile. “Thought i’d..uh, politely knock?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. He somewhat noticed that his normal clothes weren't hanging off him the way they had been. At least he’d been putting on a little weight having lunches with Tim.

Tim returned his smile and gestured for him to come in. “And it was thoughtful.” 

Tim looked nice, the way he always did. His button down looked brand new and someone had obviously ironed his pants and he didn’t wear shoes, just dark socks. It was the kind of casual touch that proved he lived there. 

“I’m sorry.” Danny muttered, voice his usual low cadence. He didn’t like using his aura or ‘kingly voice’ around people when he didn’t have to. He had nothing to prove. “I know it’s a holiday but i don’t really have much in the way of living human clothes anymore.” 

“Hey. No.” Tim said immediately, head whipping around to look at Danny again. “Absolutely no one in this house is worried about that. If you are, i have an entire closet you can pick through to find something else but it’s not necessary. The only thing we requested was you. You look great.” 

Danny rubbed his arm and despite his unease, smiled. It was almost funny the way Tim tracked the movement with his eyes. His feelings on the matter were genuine. Danny’s attire didn’t matter to him. “If you’re sure. I didn’t want to come off as ungrateful when you’ve invited me into your home.” 

“Impossible.” Tim said, stepping further inside with Danny beside him. “I assure you, once the pictures have been taken, everyone will be throwing the dress clothes to the side.” 

“Pictures?” 

“Master Timothy.” An older man was approaching from the dining room. “I trust you haven’t been rude to our guest.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Alfred.” Tim smiled, entering into some kind of familiar song and dance. “He usually likes to keep his outer jacket so i didn’t ask to take it to hang up for him." 

It made Danny smile when he’d connected the pieces. He’d heard a few stories about Alfred over the last few months. Most of them from Tim himself but Dick had happily told a couple. The man took his job very seriously. It almost reminded him of Fright Knight. 

“Um..” Danny mumbled, sounding like he didn’t know where to start. Did he introduce himself? He’d gotten better at these kinds of things when ghosts were involved. The living almost baffled him now. 

Tim took over. “Danny his is Alfred, technically he’s the butler and caretaker of Wayne Manor, but his real job is caretaker and grandfather to every brat that lives here who doesn’t deserve him.” 

That had the corners of Danny’s lips tipping up even as Alfred quirked a brow at the rather bold comment. 

“Alfred, this is my friend Danny. This will be his first Thanksgiving in many years.” 

Alfred offered a polite bow, a bend at his waist that looked beautifully formal. “We’re so pleased you could join us, Your Majesty.” 

“Oh no. Danny. Danny’s fine.” He didn’t miss the way Tim raised a brow, but Danny wasn’t surprised. It might have been the first time Tim had seen Danny anything close to flustered. “The Majesty thing is kind of stuffy and this is your home that i was invited into.” 

“If you insist, Master Daniel. I hope you have come hungry.” 

Danny knew his smile was weak. “Starving. Tim and Dick both promised this would be the meal of my life. Unlife?” He shook his head and cleared his throat. “And if you don’t mind, i have a little trauma with the name Daniel. I’d really prefer Danny or Phantom if you’d rather.” 

Tim’s eyes narrowed briefly and Danny knew he was already organizing dozens of questions. Now however, wasn’t the time to ask them. That didn’t mean he wasn’t making several mental notes. 

Alfred also also caught the quiver in his tone and didn’t press the matter if the shift in his emotions were anything to go off of. “Master Danny is it.” Alfred continued seamlessly, voice pleasant. “We’re truly happy to have you. I have been asking about your attendance at dinner for some time.” 

Tim sighed loudly, a touch more dramatic than usual but Danny was happy to see Tim someplace he could be so informal. “Okay, that was my bad. I was having fun going out with you and any dinner here you attended would suddenly be a family dinner.” 

“Everyone is curious?” Danny assumed. 

“Incredibly.” 

“Now Master Timothy, it is impolite to keep your guest hovering around the door. Dinner is nearly ready.” Alfred said. “Please be the proper host.” 

“Yes, Alfred.” 

Danny fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie briefly. “I’d…offer to help but i’m a disaster in the kitchen. At least i was. I’m also afraid of reanimating food during the cooking process so i think i’ll stay well out of the way.” 

Alfred looked faintly surprised but he focused on the first part of the sentence. “It was still very kind of you to offer. I have everything well in hand.” 

Tim turned to look at Danny. “I know you’ve explained this to me before, but it’s crazy that you had to fight your food.” Saying that Danny had ‘explained’ that was over stating things, and they both knew it. Danny had said the only foods he didn’t like were the ones that bit back and Tim had taken him at his word. 

“It can be a problem.” Danny mused. He’d always been useless in the kitchen but after he’d moved out of his parents home, it became a chore he didn’t care for. His ectoplasm was so strong and it was bound to affect his environment over time. “You know, that might be why i stopped bothering to eat for a while. It’s not instantaneous or anything but long term exposure around me would reanimate whatever’s in the fridge.”

“Well, that’s one mystery solved.” Tim said, linking his arms with Danny’s to lead him to one of the more casual livingrooms at Alfred’s insistence. 

“Maybe?” Danny offered, distracted by looking around the manor. It was like a blast to his past only more. It was greater than the house Sam had grown up in, and far more tasteful than anything Vlad had. 

It was downright artistic. He’d seen enough ghostly lairs to see old mixing in with modern. The Wayne manor was stunning. 

The manor was equal parts old glamour and modern relic that was lovingly cared for by the occupants that lived there. The brilliant chandeliers and the beautifully carved staircase were more than simply eye-catching. The artwork was actually pleasing.

“You okay?” Tim asked quietly, biting at his lip worriedly. He was anxious as if afraid something about the manor had upset him. His phone was in his hand and Danny could tell he was texting one handed. Tucker could do similar feats. 

“I’m fine. I was looking at the pictures.” He nodded his head to where many framed photographs were displayed.  

“We’re glad you liked them!” Dick all but materialized by their sides and Danny couldn’t help but laugh. He was so light on his feet. “Tim took those!” 

Danny’s brows shot up in surprise. “Really?” 

Dick hummed his affirmative. “Yep, he’s a for real photographer.” 

Tim’s ears went pink. “It’s just a hobby.” 

Danny wandered closer to one of the frames, pulling Tim along with him by their linked arms. He smiled at the aerial view of Gotham. It was beautiful. “You have a lot of talent.” 

“Uh, yes. Thanks.” Tim muttered, throwing a scowl at his older brother who grinned, completely unrepentant. Not for the first time, Danny was reminded of Ellie whenever Dick was around. He cared so deeply, but that didn’t stop him from being a mischievous little imp. 

“I’d love to see more.” Danny said. “After dinner maybe?”

There was a light to Tim’s eyes at the notion. Danny wondered if it was less a hobby and something a little closer to a living obsession. Those were probably good to nurture. “If you want. Bruce has hung up a bunch of them but i have, you know, a portfolio.” 

“I’d love to see.” Danny repeated quietly. 

Dick glanced between them, his own mirth so obvious that Danny didn’t need empathy to feel it. “C’mon you two. It won’t be long before dinner’s ready and we still need to take the customary pictures.” 

“Pictures?” Danny repeated, realizing that Tim hadn’t answered him before. 

Tim nodded and gestured for Danny to follow him and Dick. “Thanksgiving is technically in two days, but we’ll be out patrolling then so we celebrate early.” 

“Our family’s kind of well known though.” Dick offered. 

Danny snorted. “The joys of a double life.” 

“Exactly.” Tim said. “We’ll take pictures tonight and each of us will post a couple on the right day to give ourselves alibi’s. It’s fairly simple.” 

Danny would have loved to have had the luxury back in the day. It was hard living with some of your biggest critics. “How much of your family will be coming?” 

“Most of it.” Dick said. 

“Probably.” Tim echoed, still looking a little worried about how the evening would go. Danny had seen many of Tim’s siblings and met a few of them. He wasn’t really worried, but was charmed that Tim was. 

Tim wanted the dinner to go seamlessly. Danny hoped he could help that along without his Fenton luck getting in the way.