#i have been having so much trouble getting up and i think part of that is that i dont want to have to be a person immediately when i | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katemoneymartinsgf · 3 days ago

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Could you do a fic where Azzi gets Paige flowers?( Cause in past relationships Paige has always been treated like a guy cause she’s more masc)

Flowers |pazzi|

a/n: sorry i’ve been so dry. trying to get back to all the requests. mass writing starts now 🙏🏽

“You got me flowers?”

Paige blinks like she’s trying to figure out if it’s a setup.

She’s in sleep shorts and a hoodie that still smells like dryer sheets. There’s a crease on her cheek from the couch pillow, and her voice is still scratchy from a nap she took.

Azzi holds out the bouquet, all casual. “Yeah.”

Paige stares.

It’s not that she doesn’t like them — they’re actually… really pretty. Tulips and daisies and those tiny yellow ones Azzi always gets right. She just doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do with them.

“You’re not sick or in trouble or, like, being held at gunpoint or anything?”

Azzi snorts. “Not unless this is a hostage situation.”

“You are in my apartment.”

“And yet, somehow, I still brought you flowers.”

Paige blinks again, slower this time. She takes them — carefully, like they might change their mind about belonging to her. She holds them in both hands, looks at them for a beat, then says, quieter:

“No one’s ever really given me flowers before.”

Azzi leans against the doorframe. “You’ve given them, though.”

Paige shrugs. “Yeah. That’s kind of the thing.”

Azzi watches her for a second. “Because people always see you as the one who should. Not the one who gets to.”

That lands harder than Paige expects. Her fingers shift on the stems.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says. “It’s just how it’s always been.”

Azzi steps in close. Slides a hand to Paige’s jaw, thumb brushing right near her ear — grounding, soft.

“Well, it’s dumb,” she says, voice gentler now. “You’re allowed to be the one who gets the flowers.”

Paige huffs a laugh, but she’s blinking too much.

Azzi keeps going, because now she means it.

“You don’t always have to be the strong one. Or the giver. Or the one who cracks the joke first so no one sees the soft parts.”

Paige lowers the bouquet just enough to press her face into Azzi’s shoulder. Muffled: “You’re being disgusting.”

Azzi wraps her up, arms around her waist, face tucked into her hair.

“I love you,” she whispers. “And you deserve every annoying, cringey thing this world has to offer.”

Her head drops to Azzi’s shoulder, bouquet cradled in her arms like it’s a gift she’s still learning how to accept.

Then: “Are you done?”

Azzi smiles. “No. I’m gonna keep going until you cry.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I hate that you’re right.”

Azzi kisses her temple. “That counts as a win.”

They stay like that for a second, hearts full.

“I love you,” Azzi says into her hair. “You hear me?”

Paige nods.

“I do,” she mumbles. “And I really like the yellow ones.”

Azzi smiles against her temple. “I know you do.”

She leans back slightly — enough to see Paige still holding the flowers close, her expression soft in a way she never lets show anywhere else.

Azzi doesn’t say anything. Just pulls her phone from her back pocket and snaps a quiet photo — Paige, hoodie sleeves curled over her knuckles, nose buried in tulips,caught in the moment.

It’s late. The window’s cracked. The TV is still on, low volume, playing some romcom neither of them has been watching. Azzi’s curled into Paige’s side, blanket kicked halfway off her legs, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, thumb lazily scrolling through her notifications.

She’d posted a photo dump earlier — some random bits from the week. A takeout box. A blurry scoreboard. A flower-stuffed cup on Paige’s counter. And, on slide four, the shot she’d snapped of Paige earlier — hoodie bunched at her wrists, face buried in flowers she wasn’t supposed to like as much as she did.

She hadn’t even asked. Just took it. Posted it later without thinking twice.

Paige hadn’t said anything at the time.

Until now.

“Az,” she says, phone still in hand. “Slide four?”

Azzi doesn’t look up. “Mmhmm.”

“You soft launched me.”

“You liked the post.”

“You posted me smelling flowers.”

Azzi finally glances up, grinning. “You looked adorable. You should thank me.”

Paige sets her phone down and shifts so they’re face to face, noses nearly touching. “You’re such a menace.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

Azzi laughs softly, but there’s a blush creeping up her neck now — because Paige says it with no hesitation. Like it’s been sitting on the tip of her tongue all night.

Paige brushes a piece of hair off her forehead. “You’re so beautiful.”

Azzi opens her mouth, maybe to joke, but Paige cuts her off before she can even try.

“You know that, right?”

Azzi blinks. “Yeah. I mean… yeah.”

“You bring me flowers,” Paige whispers, “and post me on Instagram like I’m your girlfriend or something.”

“You are my girlfriend.”

Paige smiles, soft and slow. “Lucky me.”

Azzi ducks her head, flustered now, and Paige tucks her in closer — arm around her waist, hand slipping under her hoodie to rest against the warm skin of her back.

“I love you,” Paige says again, quieter this time. Like she means it a little more every time she says it. “You’re my favorite person. Like, in the world.”

Azzi doesn’t try to speak. Just presses her face into Paige’s neck and lets her heart slow down there.

They stay like that — bodies tangled, breaths syncing, the kind of silence that only exists between two people who already know everything they need to hear.

Paige kisses her hair.

“You gonna post me again tomorrow?”

Azzi mumbles, “Depends. You gonna cry if I do?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then definitely.”

Paige grins. “God, I love you.”

“Go to sleep, Paigey.”

She does — with a smile on her face and Azzi’s hand still curled into her shirt.

#wnba #wnba basketball #ncaa wbb #wlw #pazzi fics #pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #dallas wings #uconn huskies #uconn lives #uconn wbb

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 2 days ago

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Heyy , could you maybe do a Bucky x adopted teen reader fic where they have an argument about something and Bucky says something like ‘’ you’re not my real daughter’’ or something like that . But he apologies later and they make up then .

It’s okay if you don’t want to have good day . <3

Always Be My Daughter » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Adopted Teen Daughter!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky get in an argument and he says something hurtful to you that he didn’t mean.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, Thunderbolts/Congressman!Bucky, hurtful words, crying, nicknames

Age of reader: 15 years old

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

A/N #2: I thought of Thunderbolts!Bucky when I read this request🥰 enjoy!

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF MADE BY ME!

“This is the third time this month I’ve had to leave work early to pick you up from school because you keep getting in fights.” Bucky says as you two walked in the house.

You rolled your eyes at your dad and walked towards your bedroom. Bucky picked you up from school for getting in a fight for the third time this month. This time, you got suspended from school for the rest of the week.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” He asks.

“My room since I’m in trouble.” You say.

“Not until we talk.” He says.

You sighed loudly and walked back over to your dad.

“I want to know why you keep thinking it’s ok to get in fights.” He says.

“It’s called self defense, dad. You of all people should know what that means.” You say.

“So that means it’s ok to break someone’s nose?” He asks.

“That bitch intentionally threw a basketball at me. What was I supposed to do?” You say.

“First of all, stop cussing. Secondly, ignore her. It’s not that hard.” He says.

“It’s kinda hard to ignore someone when they’re throwing stuff at you.” You say.

“You’re the one who’s making it hard. You could’ve told her to stop or told the teacher.” He says.

“Why are you siding with her? I’m your daughter! You should be siding with me!” You say.

“You’re not my real daughter!” He yells without realizing it.

You stood there in silence. Bucky’s words cut you like a knife. Your eyes tear up and your bottom lip quiver. It took Bucky a few seconds to realize what he said, making his eyes widen.

“Y/N, I-” Bucky tried to apologize, but you stormed away from him and went to your bedroom.

Bucky flinched when you slammed your bedroom door. You dropped your backpack on your bedroom floor and threw yourself on your bed and started crying in your pillow. Bucky went to the living room and sat down on the couch, leaning forward with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

“Why the hell would I say that to my child? I’m a horrible father. Now she hates me.” Bucky says wot himself.

Bucky didn’t mean to say that to you. It’s just came out. He’s just pissed that you got in another fight at school. You’ve been in Bucky’s care since you were 11 years old. He saved you from HYDRA. Shortly after saving you, he decided to adopt you. That’s something he wouldn’t change for the world.

Meanwhile, you were crying your eyes out. What your dad said to you hurt you deeply. You don’t know if you can forgive him for saying that. You’re also debating whether or not to run away and never look back. You didn’t want to get in even more trouble so you decided to not do that.

Part of the reason why you’ve been in fights is because Bucky hasn’t been spending as much time with you. Ever since he got a job as a congressman, he’s either at the office or brings work home with him. You’re proud of him for getting a job like that. You think it’s cool, but at the same time, you hate it.

“Doll?” Bucky knocked on your bedroom door. “Can we talk please?” He asks.

“Go away! I don’t want to talk to you!” You yelled.

“Y/N, please.” He pleads softly.

You grabbed the stress ball that’s on your nightstand and threw it at the door as hard as you could. Bucky jumped a bit when you did that.

“I’ll come back later.” He says.

“Don’t bother! I still don’t want to talk to you!” You yelled again.

Bucky sighs and goes to his home office to try to get some work done. He got little to no work done. He taps a pen against his desk as he continued to think about what he said to you.

Yes, you’re not Bucky’s daughter biologically, but you’ll always be his daughter. Biologically or not.

Both of you got little to no sleep last night, more you than Bucky. The words “You’re not my real daughter!” kept echoed in your head throughout the night. The guilt is eating Bucky alive.

You laid in bed for a little bit after waking up and stared out of your bedroom window from your bed. Your eyes were red from crying and you were still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. You didn’t want to leave your room, but you were hungry and thirsty so you had to get out of bed. Bucky heard your bedroom door open and heard your footsteps. He seen you still wearing yesterday’s clothes and your eyes were red from crying.

“Good morning, doll.” Bucky says softly as you entered the kitchen.

You didn’t say a word to him, let alone look at him. You got something to drink from the fridge before deciding what you wanted to eat for breakfast.

“Can we please talk?” He asks softly and pleadingly.

“You said what you had to say yesterday.” You said, not looking at him.

“Y/N, please. I don’t want to go to work, knowing that you hate me right now.” He pleads.

You sighed loudly before turning your attention to your dad, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine. Talk.” You said.

“I am so sorry for what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean it. It just slipped out.” He apologizes.

“Why apologize when you’re right? I’m not your daughter. I’m just some kid you took in 4 years ago.” You say.

“Biologically, you’re not my daughter, but I adopted you so that makes you my daughter.” He says.

Bucky is right and you know it. He’s the only parent you know and have.

“You hurt my feelings when you said that.” You say, your voice cracking.

“I know and I am so sorry.” He apologizes. “I love you being my daughter. You brightened up my life 4 years ago. I made the right decision when I adopted you.” He says.

“You- You don’t mean that.” You say, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Yes I do.” He says.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him when you started crying. Your tears got on his suit, but he didn’t care. Bucky’s priority is to comfort and make up with his daughter.

“Please forgive me.” Bucky pleads.

“I want to, but I don’t know if I can.” You say.

“Doll, please. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.” He says.

You thought about it whilst you cried in your dad’s arms. What he said hurt you. Do you hate him? No, but you hate that he said that to you.

“I’m sorry for being a horrible father.” He apologizes once more.

“You’re not a horrible father.” You say.

“I’m not?” He asks.

“No.” You sniffled. “You’re the best dad ever.” You say.

“You still think of me as dad of the year after what I said?” He asks.

“Yes.” You replied.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say.

Bucky smiles and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m sorry for getting in fights at school. I’ll try not to do it anymore.” You apologized.

“It’s ok, doll. I’m not mad anymore.” He says softly.

Bucky groans loudly when he gets a text from one of his associates, interrupting yours and Bucky’s father daughter moment.

“I have to go to work.” Bucky sighs, looking at the text.

“It’s ok. I understand.” You say.

Bucky smiles to himself when an idea popped into his head.

“Do you want to go to work with me today?” Bucky asks curiously.

“Really?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I told you I would do anything to make it up to you. This is anything.” He says.

“I would love to go to work with you, dad.” You say and hugged him tightly.

“Go get dressed. We have to leave in a little bit.” He says.

“Ok.” You say.

You ran out of the kitchen and ran to your bedroom to get dressed.

“I’m ready.” You said as you walked back in the kitchen. “I don’t have nice shoes so I put my new sneakers on.” You say, looking down at your shoes.

“I think it’s interesting.” Bucky says.

“Do you think we can breakfast on the way?” You asked.

“Sure, why not.” He smiles.

“I love you, dad.” You say softly.

“I love you too, kiddo.” He says softly back.

Even though, you’re not Bucky’s daughter biologically, you will always be his daughter and he wouldn’t change it for the world. Adopting you is the best decision he’s ever made.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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cherie-doll · 3 days ago

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How do you think the cod guys (you date and work together) would react and treat you if you had gotten unwell, they noticed and then you were diagnosed with a auto immune disease? Like lupus, various auto immune arthritis conditions(rheumatoid, psoriatic) , chroins or w/e?

How would they be able to handle your new weakened self?

This is a pretty self indulgent request and I just want to know if they'd still love me.

Ps. I love the art you use.

“it’s never lupus”

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: You Find Out You're Sick

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He had noticed your how your performance which was usually average or above average suddenly started declining, he was more worried than upset so he decided to talk you into taking some time off and visiting the medic

He's saying this not only as your superior but also as your s/o, even if it was just something small (or so you both assumed) he would still want you to take care of yourself, even if he finds himself very busy he would come check up on you every now and then

That was until the doctors told you it was something far more serious that was affecting your body and would affect how you did things from now on

While it may have discouraged you, Price always made time for you, especially since he wanted to comfort you best he could, he wouldn't treat you less nor be too overprotective, he knows how capable you still are

Knowing what would affect you would be long-term, he didn't want you to let that get in the way of living your best life, he still comes around as much as he can to remind you how much he loves you still

Ghost

You said you were doing fine, but he knew that you had let it get to you, deep on the inside you were a little hurt, sometimes it became hard to deal with the medications and treatments knowing it was all for nothing if it meant being like this for the rest of your life

Simon would have some trouble knowing just how much to let his worry for you show, he just wants you to be healthy and happy, so it might become a little overbearing when he's always telling you to take your meds, or holds you back from being a little reckless

You're not child, you remind him, but he prefers being your silent reminder rather than verbally expressing it

In a way he could understand the part about having to deal with this lifelong, some things no matter how hard you tried to cover or search for a cure just couldn't be completely buried, so he tried his best to help you manage it in his quiet way

Soap

It had taken a long time before you were diagnosed, many tests and doctors appointments later you were finally told what had been happening to your body

It had felt like a betrayal, you had taken care of it well, you would frequently join Johnny on his morning runs (when he managed to get up early) and even train with him to improve, he had been recently saying how much better you had gotten at working out

But he had also seen those small changes in you; mostly how you could no longer ignore "small" pains that seemed to bother you constantly, he too had worried when not even the doctor could give you a clear answer

The feelings of anxiety and frustration had nearly been too much for you, and despite you focusing on mostly yourself now, he never made you feel bad for it, he was there at your side, not resenting you for suddenly feeling unable to spend time with him

If you preferred to sit and do some other activity rather than go out, he would do what suited you better

Gaz

He's always been attentive to all your needs; emotional and physical, so no doubt it was due to his nagging that you went to the doctor in time to get treated, you didn't have to be confused about these new symptoms that had begun to interfere in your daily life

You hated how unpredictable your illness could be, Kyle taught you to be patient with your body, to not expect too much out of it, he took care of you better than if you were alone

If you've had to adjust your diet and lifestyle, he would greatly help with it, before you would carelessly prepare your meals just to have something to eat, and it's become increasingly hard to keep track of small things like your meals

He's made all the necessary adjustments to help you manage, even if you think it's a little annoying at times how much you have to care now, he's able to still cradle your face in his hands and give you reassurance that you'll learn to live with it

He doesn't let you wallow in your sadness too much either, your thoughts could easily make you look at life grimly, but he's constantly showing you ways to still find joy in the little things, and with time your attitude improves

Roach

If it weren't for him laying it so heavy on you going to the doctor then you probably wouldn't have gone yourself, you kept dismissing those symptoms and when you got back the diagnosis he was probably more worried than you were

Frankly, you were scared, if you had never gone through so much all at once then it was difficult for you to deal with all this, but he wouldn't leave you not even when you felt like this was something you had to deal with yourself

He did all he could to keep you cheerful and content, he wasn't just about to let you deal with it by yourself, especially since you could confide in him and let him know how you felt

There had always been a quiet and mutual understanding between you two, so it was easy for you to lean on him when things were hard, even if you felt overwhelmed by all the symptoms and new feelings that came with this disease

He wasn't only your partner but a friend too

Alejandro

Feel like he'd be tempted to put things aside to assist you when you really needed him, perhaps he wouldn't be able to do much to keep you from experiencing physical pain or complications, but he would do whatever he could in his reach to make you feel just as loved if not even more than before

On some days even small tasks and chores like getting up, starting your day, making something to eat or even remembering to take medication to alleviate the pain is hard for you, he would be by your side no matter what

He would want you to focus solely on yourself, and even when you expressed how terrible you felt for having to rely on him so much, he'd tell you a million different ways how he doesn't mind it, he'd do anything for you

He encourages you to re-evaluate your priorities; your number one job right now is to only worry about yourself, he'll take care of the rest

Rudy

My boy Rodolfo was worried sick for you, he noticed you were missing more days and despite him not being the one you told everything to, he still felt a need to find out what had been going on, you were his s/o after all

When he found out about the frequent visits to doctors to try and pinpoint what the problem was, he felt a little disappointed you didn't come to him but he hid it away not wanting you to feel like it was another burden to carry, you were far busier worrying about your health

He did everything he could to help you, offered to accompany you to doctor's appointments and so on until you got a diagnosis back, he's not entirely sure how to navigate this but he knew the one thing you would need was support

Sometimes you get frustrated not being able to do certain things or having to refrain for your health, but thanks to Rodolfo, your resentment and bitter feelings go away when he's around

His acts of service have served to prove how much he cares for you, you're always in the back of his mind not only when he's with you but also when he's out alone; he makes you feel loved even during tough times

Phillip Graves

You were worried what his reaction would be, you dreaded telling him because he was the type to immediately tell you to rest even if you got a cold or were feeling too hot, you didn't doubt his love for you, because he would do anything for you

Which in a way worried you, he was so busy with his new tasks that maybe he wouldn't have time for you in your newfound condition, there were always a hundred other people that needed his attention before you, or so you thought

But he listened quietly, and with care made sure that you were getting the rest that your body needed, and don't dare think to neglect yourself even if you think your disease isn't so severe

Perhaps there may be tense moments where you became fed up with it all; with the way some people treated you, how doctors treated you, how you viewed yourself.. but he was always able to sneak in a kiss on the cheek or some other small but significant way to make you smile at his actions

There was just no way you could not keep your face from showing happiness when you saw him, he had always had that effect on you and even now it overshadowed your negative thoughts

Makarov

Usually this man keeps tabs on you even if he isn't physically there with you at the moment, but he hadn't been there to notice your deteriorating health, or how you now had to take medicine when you had flare-ups, etc..

Either way word reach him and he suddenly came back, it felt strange having him give you a look over, his eyes observing you and he noticed how you had changed small, minor details in your routine

You felt weird having him perched like a hawk watching you, but in his eyes he was just doing what he could to care for you, he no longer wanted you to overwork yourself like you often did, against your protests he put his foot down and would not allow you to do anything unless he has deemed it safe beforehand

Even if you faked annoyance it was sort of heartwarming seeing him secretly care so much, you know he's never casual about anything and he wouldn't simply dismiss something like this

Keegan

He didn't have to go around finding things out because you were upfront about it with him, you had recently begun complaining of some pain in your muscles, at first you had shrugged it off, thinking it was from your last mission, it wasn't unusual to experience this

But it persisted, so much that you decided to go visit the medic on base along with Keegan, and while he came out fine, you had to stay back longer until a doctor was able to look at you

You assumed he had gone back to his barracks, but he had stayed waiting outside hoping it wasn't anything serious, you were surprised to walk out and meet his eyes when he raised his head

He can tell by the look on your face when you're in pain or something is bothering you, he can also tell when you're not in the mood to be open about it and he complies, but that won't stop him from caring for you

König

He was more worried than you were, and rightfully so, it was something new to him, he hadn't gone through this himself so he was afraid of how little he knew, especially since it was happening to the person he thought of so dearly

He tried to hide his anxiety, but never had be been so worried, you tried your best to assure him that it wasn't as bad as he thought, even if doctors couldn't cure it, there was no reason why he should be losing sleep, you would still live an average life

To give some sense of relief to König, you made changes and tried your best to adapt even when it became increasingly difficult at times, you knew the man beside you would always be there and it gave you some comfort to have someone to share your problems with

His company helped you cope better than any other treatment, maybe it was his big and imposing figure that made you think of him as your gentle guardian, he would watch over you and you never doubted his love

Horangi

It was difficult at first and you really had thought you would be stagnant at this point in life, you feared not being able to advance or go anywhere, you still had so many goals and dreams you would like to reach, but him seeing you struggle made his heart clench

He wanted to accommodate you best he could, he also didn't want to make the mistake of not being informed and he didn't want you feeling alone if he couldn't understand

He would accompany you to the pharmacy, the doctor and any other place where you might need his help, he knew you were plenty capable but if walking beside you helped you feel a little more secure in your footing, then he would accompany you everywhere

And if at any point the stress became too much, he gently reminded you that he didn't mind supporting you, you weren't a burden at all, it would be his pleasure to help meet your needs

Nikto

You thought he wouldn't notice, you had barely noticed it yourself, but perhaps Nikto had caught it quite early on, it had gone unnoticed by you how often he had a habit of watching you, it was a custom he had

He knew how you did things, your routine, your habits and everything, so it was unusual to him how much you struggled now to concentrate, while you wrote it off as not getting enough sleep Nikto was already taking notes

He also didn't think it was normal for you to suddenly become so tired or come up with rashes, he sort of casually brought up when your next check up was and told you to get it done sooner, and how surprised you were when you came back with the results

You probably trust him more with reminding you to do certain things so now he's become your notepad, if it were someone else he wouldn't even bat an eye, but since it's you he's letting you do whatever, like a cat that becomes fond of a person

He doesn't mind being soft with you either if it means making you feel just a little bit better on a day when you're feeling down

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agoodroughandtumble · 2 days ago

Text

Looks Good On You Anyway - Zoro x Reader

Unfortunately, life amongst the Straw Hats wasn’t exactly akin to sartorial elegance. You couldn’t count the amount of perfectly good shirts that had been ruined through rips, bloodstains or the general wear and tear of a life of piracy, and whilst you had long since let go of any notion of style, a shirt you could actually wear was surely not that much to ask for. Trouble was, not only were you running out of clothes, you were also running out of berry. A failing on your part. But, as your stint aboard the Going Merry was supposed to be a brief one it was not entirely unreasonable that dressing for all seasons had not been at the forefront of your priorities. When your stint aboard the Thousand Sunny turned out to be a more permanent affair any onlookers could be forgiven for questioning your lack of forward planning.

It was with more than a hint of jealousy that you thought of the boys as you rifled through your trunk in order to find something, anything, that hadn’t been stitched and repaired so many times it was the Ship of Theseus in thread form. They didn’t have to worry about not having a shirt – hell, you couldn’t even remember a time before Sanji was the only one not displaying some defined muscle. Not that you had noticed. Or if you had it was a completely objective observation of the double standards of men and women’s bodies. Or something to that effect. And, of course, because it went without saying, that a certain someone’s lack of attire had definitely caught your eye. But then again … if he was so adverse to the thought of being covered up, his shirts were only going to waste …

But that would be weird. Territorial. Well, invasive since it wasn’t your territory.

And it would be bad.

But maybe not that bad? And, as already established, it wasn’t like he was using any of his shirts anyway. So if anything it was just recycling, a redistribution of goods. Whatever it was, it clearly hadn’t played on your mind too much having tiptoed out of the boys’ quarters wearing a stolen navy blue tank top and making your way towards the deck.

Roronoa Zoro leant back against the gunnel, legs stretched out, the satisfying burn of a good training session aching through his thighs. A light breeze cooled the sweat clinging to his skin, eyes closed, the faintest smirk across his features – a response to Luffy and Usopp arguing about their latest game. Life on the sea was rarely tranquil so he soaked up such moments as his bronzed skin soaked up the morning sun. Of course he would never admit to the fact but the faint smell of Sanji cooking lunch only added to the easy tranquillity.

The wolf whistle ended his stillness.

“Fuck off, Nami.”

Your voice prompted a surreptitious look.

“New shirt? I don’t remember going shopping.” The smirk in Nami’s voice palpable.

“Fuck off, Nami.” As was your annoyance.

The two of you were always bickering – that much wasn’t a surprise but he couldn’t help but be intrigued. He leant forward, trying to get a closer look. Nothing seemed that much out of the ordinar-

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Why the ever-loving-fuck is that a thing? His hand automatically gripped at his swords – something to focus on that wasn’t the fact that you were wearing his shirt and he was completely and utterly into that. Fuck, your tits looked good. But that wasn’t the point. His knuckled turned a bit whiter.

“Zoro, you okay with this? I thought I was the thief.”

Fuck off, Nami.

“What?” He tilted his head in a show of nonchalance and tried very, very hard not to adjust his position too obviously. “I don’t wear it.” He shrugged – a little too much. “I don’t care.”

The look from Nami did not go unnoticed. Neither did the irony or metaphor – Zoro wasn’t going to dwell on which – of you covered in the clothes of a killer when all he could think about was ripping those clothes off, of confessing everything, of being on the verge of-

“Sorry,” you started, “Everything else is ripped.”

“Keep it.” Zoro stood up. He stopped when he didn’t hear your footsteps. “Well come on then. My clothes look better on you anyway.”

#opla #one piece #one piece x reader #opla x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader

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rogue-durin-16 · 2 days ago

Text

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part XX/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @sxalbatf @jetjuliette @luvrottt @fromjupitertocentauri @ecompstolemysoul @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bitter-post-millennial @gotxpenny @knight-of-thesun @scottstr3et

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @gotxpenny

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, smoking, nudity? (Is that a warning?), depictions of wounds, death.

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble I'm so done. Anyway, here's the shower scene, enjoy<3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The basement was too quiet. Not silent—quiet in the way a place goes after someone's last breath was wrung out of it. No shouting, no talking; just tears and shivering —and Jackson's body on a stretcher laid on the floor, with an itchy blanket covering his torn face and the stillness of his chest.

No one acknowledged Don when entered the cellar turned bunker. No one cared enough.

"Y/n," he called gently. I blinked away the patrol's darkness to stare at him. "Speirs cleared the officers' showers for you." His gaze flicked to Jones momentarily. "I'll stand watch."

I limited myself to nod, offering the ginger a quiet 'okay'. I, too, turned to check on the distressed Lieutenant, who seemed to be doing his best to navigate a situation he hadn't expected to deal with.

"Go." He allowed, still caressing Vest's crown. "Sergeant?"

"Sir?"

"Get that checked at the aid station."

I tilted my chin, an instinctive move that shifted my attention to the shoulder that didn't hurt yet.

"Will do, Sir."

Malarkey stretched out his arm for me to go with him, and only came down limply at his side when we fell into step together.

We moved in silence through the cold, mindful to avoid getting too close to the river. The mud on my uniform crunched when I moved. My fingers ached. My legs moved on habit.

"I'm sorry." I whispered after taking the third turn.

Malarkey gave me a sideways look. "For what?"

"For the showers, earlier. With Jones." I clarified, sparing half a second to examine my friend's expression in the dark. "Didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"That kid was born with a stick up his ass." He commented distractedly, pushing the officers' billet's door open. "You didn't put it there, did you?"

I cracked a tired smirk as I followed him inside a much nicer space than the one Second Platoon had huddled into.

"You really shook him, though." He went on, turning on the hallway's flickering lightbulb. "Taking off your shirt like that? Think he's never seen a woman naked. Probably had to go lie down after." I breathed out something close to a laugh, tired but genuine, and followed Don to a door tucked away behind the main house. "At least you get to take a fancy shower."

"Lucky me." I muttered, taking a look around me.

The officers' showers were smaller, yet definitely of better quality than the company's communal tent, solid walls and tiles protecting the pair of showerheads jutting out. The inside was dim and smelled faintly of rust and lye, pipes groaning somewhere behind the cement.

"Take your time." Malarkey reassured me before I could even ask how long did I have. "I'm not moving."

"Y/n," The ginger called from the opposite corner of the room, where he stood with his gaze trained on his boots. "Anything happened?"

I shook my head affirmatively and began peeling off the uniform piece by piece, each layer heavier than the last. My sweater clung to dried blood and dirt.

"During the patrol?" I inquired, pulling my undershirt over my head, flakes of dried something—sweat, blood, grime—fluttering to the floor.

"This morning. With Lieb."

I froze on the spot, half a second too long. "Define 'something'." I tried to play off the halt in my motions as a struggle caused by the straining pain puncturing my back.

Malarkey let out a tired sigh. "He made you cry?"

"What? No," I threw a confused glance over my shoulder to meet his eyes on the ruined mirror hung across from us. "where'd that come from?" I didn't give him the chance to question further, scared of where his suspicions would land if he caught me off guard again. "We had an argument. You know how it is with him."

"That's it?"

I nodded. "That's it."

That seemed to settle my friend's uneasiness, although I wasn't sure if he bought it or was just humoring me. He sure didn't look like he had the energy to dig deeper.

The faucet opened with a screech, giving way to what soon turned into a scalding purge.

At first, nothing came off; the filth clung to me like skin. My palms turned gray with it, my nails filled with sludge. The blood down my arms—Jackson's, I realized in a nauseous wave—ran down the drain in thin, pink streaks. More and more of it. I scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin turned red.

Aside from the promised bruises a bad landing had earned me, there must have been a gash across my shoulder blade my body had forgotten to tell me about.

The water ran brown, then rust-colored, then finally clear. I got rid of my underwear and hung it nearby. My scalp stung with the hot water, matted locks slowly untangling until I could fully run my fingers through it all.

The knots on my muscles eased up, and the scorching feeling became soothing in a way that made a lump crawl up my throat.

"Don, I need a minute." My words were rushed and quiet, which told the man more than he needed to know. With a decided ''course', he stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him.

The moment the lock clicked, I broke. A single sob stole the breathing out of me, and, due of the rare moment of privacy, I allowed myself to feel it. Just for one minute, arms around my stomach, eyes shut, shaky shoulders that wouldn't settle.

Just one minute to rinse myself clean inside and out.

More than most would get.

JOE'S P. O. V.

I told myself it was just the uniform.

That's why I walked over to the officers' billet. That's why I folded her spare shirt and pants under my arm like it mattered. Like it wasn't just a poor excuse to see her again. Thanks to the full moon, the sky was still gray like it hadn't moved all day. The ground squelched under my boots.

Malarkey was right outside what Luz had described as the gateway to the officers' showers, his hands in his pockets, head hanging low.

"She got a clean uniform?" I questioned, mostly to announce myself, stopping a few feet short from the Sergeant.

"I was gonna go grab one."

"No need to." I motioned at the folded ODs I carried. "Saved you the trouble."

"Saved me the trouble." Malarkey repeated with wary eyes, but he still pushed the door open just enough to call through. "Y/n? Lieb brought you a clean uniform."

At first, there was no reply. The water was still running and for a second, I doubted she'd heard Malarkey at all. Then her voice came out, a bit jagged, a bit rough, but loud enough for us to hear.

"Tell him to leave it in."

The ginger left the door ajar and tilted his head to the showers, arms folded over his chest; his go-to way of holding himself together lately. "You heard her."

"Right." I circled his form to reach the entrance, but hesitated half a step out. "Hey, I was thinkin'," my tone was strained, as if I was pretending real hard something didn't matter. "maybe I could take it from here."

Malarkey raised an eyebrow. "Take what from where?"

"Someone's gotta stand watch, right?" I began, doing my best to keep my demeanor even. "I ain't got shit to do."

There was a beat of silence in which I had to fight the urge to resort to my usual attitude, triggered by the ginger's squinted eyes trying hard to read between lines. To my surprise, he didn't make a single question. Just took a step back and, darting one last glance to the showers, warned me, "don't make it worse."

Yeah, right, I thought to myself, 'cause it's always that simple with her.

I stepped in, the air thick with steam, the sharp sting of soap and something older. Maybe copper. Or dirt. Or maybe the months of rot boiling off skin and soul.

The weak light buzzed overhead like it could give out any second. I didn't look straight at her. I didn't have to —the cracked mirror over the rusted sink caught enough.

Her back was to me; water traced the curve of her spine, slow, reluctant lines cutting through reddened skin. Bruises bloomed along her shoulder, dark and angry. There was a tremble in her arms I chose to blame on the cold.

I crossed the small space and crouched near the stall. "I'll leave it here." I informed her, setting the uniform down and away from the water's reach.

She mumbled something that reached my ears as a 'thank you', one hand braced against the wall and her forehead pressed to the tile.

"Want me to wait outside?" I questioned, taking two strides in the door's direction with no real intention of crossing it.

"You can stay."

So I did, leaning on the concrete wall, searching desperately for something to do with my hands.

"Mind if I smoke?"

"Since when do you ask for permission?" I scoffed at her question, although my fingers had already dug into my jacket's pockets for a cigarette I was placing between my teeth and a lighter that wouldn't catch. "Lighter's in my pants." She added, like she already knew I'd ask.

I didn't say a word; just made my way over to the pile of discarded overused fatigues and rummaged through it until I found what I was looking for, doing my best to focus on lighting the cigarette and not on how easy it'd be to see her —actually see her—. Just a slight tilt to my left, no reflections, no distance, just the soft silhouette of her body, battered and bruised and perfect. It wouldn't be the first time I saw her, but it was starting to feel like it.

Maybe it was the privacy offered by these showers, the quietness begging to be broken, or the ghost of her lips still making mine tingle.

Light the damn cigarette. Once. Twice. The flame caught and I took a long drag, tossing the lighter back over the olive fabric.

It wasn't until I had returned to my previous spot that I spoke again, voice too controlled to sound natural. "Regiment wants another patrol tomorrow night. Same roster, same plan."

The water shut off with a sharp clank. She stood there a second. "Wonderful." She said, "Wanna bet on who goes down in this one?"

Y/n stepped away from the drain and the wet tiles, grabbing her soaked underwear and wringing it out. My eyes kept stealing glances on the mirror, catching flashes—her hip, the rise of her ribs, the old scar near her navel.

Our gazes met twice before she even pulled up her pants. She didn't comment on it.

"To be fair, chances are it’ll be me." She commented, almost offhandedly.

"Think that's funny?" It came out sharper than intended, but then again, wasn't that how it always went with her?

"You're the one who said I'm getting sloppy." She grabbed her bra next and rinsed it without much care. "Maybe you're right."

I heard it in the lack of bite or sarcasm. Something off, making it sound more like a confession rather than a smart quip.

"Something happen during the patrol?"

She turned a little —enough to catch my face in the mirror, this time with intent. Her own were flat. "Fell off the stairs while we were grabbing the prisoners. Landed on my back." As if on cue, a small wince twisted her face when she turned further. She held the bra loosely in one hand. "Can you help me clasp this?"

I was moving before she finished the sentence.

Up close, her back was a goddamn mess. A new scrape cut through her shoulder blade; skin torn in uneven streaks over purple and blue. I let my fingers graze the bruise as I reached for the hooks, and took my sweet time —time I didn't really need for the simple task. She didn't flinch.

She didn't move, either. But I lingered for too long, my mind wandering places where it had no business going.

"You're being weird." A call-out I didn't want but needed. My touch exchanged her damp skin for the cigarette trapped between my lips.

"I'm not being weird."

She turned around, chest rising slowly beneath the now clasped bra, arms slack at her sides. I reached instinctively, brushing off a small streak of something—mud, maybe, or ash—on her collarbone that had refused to detach during the shower.

"Stop."

There it was. That tone she used when she wanted to pretend she held some kind of moral high ground over me. The one that got under my skin the most. I paused before lashing out. Exhaled through my nose, looked off to the side so I wouldn't have to look at her.

"We should talk." I stated, rubbing my forehead.

"I don't feel like it."

Again.

I snapped before I could think better of it. "Look, I don't fuckin' care how you feel." I tore the cigarette from my mouth and put it off on the sink. "We should talk."

She crouched to grab her undershirt, and threw it on like a barrier between us. "You're acting like talking would fix us."

Us. The nerve.

"Can you not be a bitch for five seconds?" That shut her up. Her mouth opened a little, like she might have found the will to actually say something, then closed again. "We kissed."

Her eyes narrowed. "That's what you wanna talk about?"

No.

I wanted to talk about the shit dazing my mind since God knows when, all of them related to her in some degree; about how everyone but her seemed to notice she was driving me crazy; about the way I thought kissing her stupid would fix whatever was wrong but only made it worse.

"Now? Yes." I half-lied, because this was the best I would get.

She bent over. Didn't look at me as she tugged on her shirt, focusing on the buttons instead. Then came the sweater. More layers to guard herself.

"It was just a kiss."

"Just a kiss." I echoed, gaze digging into her form with a mix of confusion and resentment.

"Just that." Her voice wasn't cold, but it was empty. I found myself unsurprised by Y/n trying to make herself believe it. Because it couldn't be true, could it? "I felt fuckin'... awful and I needed something to…" she sighed. I searched for the truth behind her irises. Couldn't find it. "That did the trick, okay? It doesn't have to be anything else."

It doesn't have to be anything else.

I blinked at her, standing still while she put on her boots, digits slightly shaky when she laced them up.

It doesn't have to be anything else.

She threw on her new jacket, scrambling to bunch up the old uniform in her arms. Her lighter found a new home into her breast pocket.

It doesn't have to be anything else.

"Joe?"

"Alright." A step back, two, I pivoted on my foot, signalling her to follow me out of the showers. She complied without pushing it.

It doesn't have to be anything else, she said.

Like I could choose what it was. I couldn't.

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skibasyndrome · 2 days ago

Note

13!!

Thank you so much for sending me a prompt, yay!!! 💜💜💜 The sentence was “we can go for as long as you want” 🤭 Hope you enjoy! They ended up surprisingly dorky (but also lovey-dovey <3)

cw: nsfw

Simon doesn't know how Wille does it. There's something about the way he uses his mouth that always has Simon's toes curling after only a few seconds. It's good, so, so good, but so, so frustrating.

He's got a hand wrapped around him, firm and warm and, oh, when Simon looks down he's reminded of just how pretty Wille's hands are, and that is not helping, but what's even worse, even better, is the way he's holding him so he can press a line of kisses up the length, until he reaches the head. Simon gasps when Wille finishes by wrapping his lips around the tip at once. Hot and wet and like he knows - he does know - that that alone is going to make Simon's bones melt inside of his body. Every time he tries a new move, a new way of getting his mouth on Simon, it's like Simon has involuntarily leveled up and his gameplay is nowhere near developed enough to survive the new challenge. Today, Wille seems set on making Simon lose his mind entirely, whatever little of it is left after they have done this a few times already. Today, Wille has one hand curled around Simon's hip, the other slowly inching down Simon's cock, giving more and more space for Wille's mouth. He's only halfway down, when Simon has to capitulate. A hot surge, somewhere down between his legs is telling him he needs to stop this. He quickly lifts his head from where he's been digging it into his pillow and uses his hand to shove Wille off. Faintly, he hopes he wasn't too rough about it, but at least he can breathe again. Now that Wille's tongue and lips and mouth is gone. Eyes pressed shut, trying hard to stumble back from the dangerously near edge, Simon is trying to get in some much-needed air. It's only when he feels Wille's palm on his thigh, warm and comforting and, god, he's thinking about hands again, that he reopens his eyes. His heart gives a painful little squeeze when he's met with Wille's face, contorted in worry. His beautiful, beautiful big eyes are scanning Simon's face.

"Are you okay?" he's asking, and the words arrive in Simon's brain a little muddled. Before he has the chance to search for an adequate reply, Wille is talking again. "Did I do something wrong? I thought maybe if I tried to, like, make my tongue flat and-" "No!" Simon just about yells. This is ridiculous. Simon can't possibly let Wille think something so ridiculous, when Wille just rearranged Simon's brain from left to right and right to left so good, that Simon doesn't think he'll ever be able to string together a coherent sentence again. "I-" The sentence is having a lot of trouble coming together. Maybe part of it is the shame that's burning hot and bright on Simon's cheeks right now. Wille never has to pause when Simon goes down on him. Wille is perfectly composed and a beautiful moaning and groaning and blabbering mess when Simon sucks him off, but he never has to shove Simon off of him because he's a millisecond from coming, like, a minute in. Simon swallows, briefly presses his eyes shut again. Wille's hand is still rubbing comforting circles into the skin of his thigh. Simon takes a deep breath. "Was close," he rushes out, hoping to gods that he doesn't believe in, that his voice doesn't sound quite this pathetic to Wille's ears.

For a mortifying second, there's silence. When he looks at Wille, he just sees him staring back, unmoving. But then finally his face morphs into a smile, big and bright and beautiful. "Awesome!" Simon thinks the brain damage must've been more severe than anticipated. He furrows his brow.

"I know you can go more than once," he says, and there's a glint in his eyes, a mischievous curl to his lips, a redness burning on his cheeks that matches the one Simon is feeling on himself right now. "We can just..." Wille's eyes run down Simon's body, then back up once, surely deepening his blush. "We can just... take breaks if you need them." Wille shrugs and Simon watches with his stomach dropping how his hand slides down, over his tummy and towards his cock. Wille's fingers brush against him, almost timidly, play with the coarse hair there for a second. Simon feels and sees himself twitch in reaction. "We can go for as long as you want," he tells Simon, finally, finally gingerly wrapping his hand around his cock again, and Simon is right back in dangerous territory. "Yeah?" he asks, swallowing hard when Wille uses his thumb on him. Wille nods eagerly. Then, he pauses, biting his lip in a way that lets Simon know he's in trouble. With his hand still, again, stroking Simon, slow and deliberate and maddeningly perfect, he speaks again, his eyes glowing. "I could try to see how often I can make you come," he says, voice laced with so much joy that Simon can't help but let out a small giggle. "Wille," he whines, arm draped over his face like that will stop him from actively melting under Wille's silly and dorky and beautiful and way too confident gaze. But he knows Wille understands. Wille knows this means please and holy shit and I fucking love you all that once.

"So it's good, yeah?" Wille's enthusiasm is unwavering. And so cute that Simon needs to kiss him so so badly. He nods slowly. "Very," he says. "Very, very good." Something isn't clicking. Wille is still looking at him like he doesn't get it. Like everything is perfectly peachy fine, when they specifically wanted to take some time today, make use of Linda and Sara being out. Try all kinds of different things. Things that they won't get to if Simon is done after one minute. So maybe Simon needs to clarify. "I mean," he starts, and Wille's hand strays, comes dangerously close to his barely flagged erection. He sucks in a sharp breath. "I mean, I was going to come. Too soon." Wille is looking at him like they're not speaking the same language. "Why would that be bad?" he has the audacity to ask.

Simon can't do this. He flops backwards with a groan, out of Wille's line of sight, and raises his hands to his face, heels digging into his eye sockets. He feels the mattress shift down at his feet, and suddenly Wille is squeezing in next to him. He runs a frustratingly calming hand up Simon's chest. "But I wanted you to," he says, and Simon can't deal with how sad he sounds about it. He loves Wille, he really does, with all his heart, but sometimes it feels like all Simon does is spell things out for him. "I know..." Simon lets out another groan. "But I wanted this to last, okay? I wanna- you know? Just for a little longer." Another deep breath before he goes on, a bit more quietly. "Don't want to have to stop." Wille grabs his elbows, gently pushes them away, forces Simon to face him again. With a soft smile, he leans further up and presses a kiss to Simon's lips. "But you can come and we can not stop afterwards," he says, like it's the easiest thing in the world. Simon is not so sure. But Wille won't let that stop him.

Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here

also pls let me know what you think <3

#wilmon #wilmon fanfic #yr #young royals #wilmon ficlet #yr ficlet #answered #caramelpenguin #wille is SO eager in this it's 😭#i had two ideas in my head for how this could go and that's the one I chose hope you like!!

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dameronspector · 3 days ago

Text

Philophobia (Part 6)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Stark!GN!Reader

Chapter Summary: You finally talk to Happy and ask him about the two people that you miss more than you want to admit. Sam and Bucky reluctantly take you to Berlin with them, Joaquin keeps you company again and you and Joaquin get closer.

Warnings: Mentions of Death and Depression/Depressive episodes, Mentions of Panic Attacks, Isolating, Bad coping mechanisms, Some cursing, FLUFF!!, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow burn(?), Yearning, A lil suggestive, Reader is stubborn, We slowly learn about readers past and their connection to #them, Reader’s Iron Suit/Superhero name is Midnight, Reader has some phobias, Found family, Reader is slowly becoming fonder of Joaquin, that’s it I think!

AN: ooooh I love this one a lot actually ☺️

After that…interesting conversation with Walker and Bucky, the four of you made your way back to the car. Sam and Bucky were in the front, Sam driving and Joaquin was sitting in the backseat with you. The car was silent, tense after Bucky’s announcement of wanting to get Zemo’s help. A phone ringing broke the silence. You brought your phone up to read Happy’s name on the screen. Thankfully since it was dark, nobody noticed the way you froze. Or at least, you thought so, because Joaquin’s full attention was on you.

You took a few calming breaths before picking up the call, praying that it wasn’t May this time.

“Kiddo?” It was Happy, thank god.

“Hey, Haps”, you sighed in relief.

“I’m so sorry for not telling you about May. It completely slipped my mind”, he replied, his voice heavy with guilt and apology.

You swallowed before answering, “It’s- it’s alright. How is she?”, you asked hesitantly.

“She’s alright, yeah. She started her own charity, I’m sure you know by now.”

“Yep. I do”, you still followed her on socials, not having the heart to completely sever the relationship. “And...how’s everything going with you two?”

"It's going good, great even. She said you cut the call when she picked it up?"

"Happy..", you sighed and bit the inside of your cheek.

"C'mon, (Name), it's been months. What's the harm in a simple phone call?", Happy tried to convince you. Ever since him and May started dating, he wanted you to get along with her, saying that your approval meant the world to him. But you were so happy for them. They were adorable together. Happy just wanted you to talk to her normally again.

"I..I don't know. Maybe some other day. How's...", you trailed off hesitantly, picking a random thread on your jeans.

"Peter?", Happy offered and you hummed.

"He's-you know how he gets. Took everything upon him. He's been looking more and more exhausted every day. Doesn't rest, says he needs to patrol. He's become paranoid, sorta", Happy sighed in concern.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. Peter would always blame himself for everything that went wrong and that's why you worried about him, even now. You knew he was just as bad as you were after your dad passed away. He was inconsolable, Rhodey told you so, and that he had to physically separate Peter from Tony's body. You were so out of it, that you didn't notice all of this happening right next to you. Ever since you found out about it, you've felt guilty and worried for Peter excessively.

"Happy, please, look after him", you whispered desperately into the speaker. Joaquin looked at you with his face twisted in confusion.

"Yeah, I will. Anyways, May has sent her well wishes and love to you", Happy changed the topic, knowing how much you stressed about Peter.

You smiled sadly. May was always like a second mom to you. "Tell her I said thanks."

Happy hummed. "Why did you call me, by the way?"

You sighed and shook your head, "Oh boy, I'll tell you all about that later. I'm...working right now."

"Okay...you better not be getting into any trouble. And, does Pepper know about this work?"

You paused. "Umm...I guess? Okay, Happy, I gotta go, Bye!"

"Wait-", and you abruptly cut the call, shutting your eyes in regret. He was going rat you out to Pepper and she was going to panic about you going on a mission in a completely different country and not just helping Sam with his tech. You quickly shot a text to Rhodey, explaining the situation to him and telling him to handle Pepper and Happy and thankfully, he said he will do it.

Joaquin observed you for a while, wondering about your relationship with this woman and this guy. He decided to shove it back into his mind and tried to clear the awkward tension in the car.

"Uh- where are we going now?", Joaquin looked between Sam and Bucky. Sam scoffed and looked out of the window before glancing at Bucky.

"We’re going to a prison in Germany, to talk to the most dangerous criminal in the whole world", he announced in a fake-happy tone.

Bucky licked his lips and turned to look outside the window, a sarcastic smile on his face. You looked at Joaquin and shook your head.

"We're also coming with you, right?", you asked curiously.

"No", both Sam and Bucky replied at the same time.

"You're kidding. I don't know about flyboy, but I'm coming with you two", You asked them heatedly. First, they make you leave your house, then they convince you to join them, then they make you face an idiot like Walker and now they're telling you to go home right when they want to meet up with Zemo? Like you're supposed to be normal about this?

Joaquin speaks up then, "Hold on, yo, I'm coming with you as well. Who's gonna fly you there?", he asked with an eyebrow raised.

"You're coming with us, Torres. They are not", Sam conceded. Now, you were positively angry.

"And why is that, Samuel? Weren't you the one who asked me to join you? You think I can't handle it?", you accused him, never backing down from a challenge.

Sam took a deep breath in, "It's not that, (Name)-" "Then what is it?", you questioned him.

"It's too...personal for you", Sam tried to reason. You let out a scoff.

"Personal? Just say that you're afraid of my reaction to when I come face to face with Zemo, because you two actually wanna work with him and I'll fuck up your mission, Sam", you spit out and folded your arms across your chest.

Sam shook his head and Bucky let out a sigh, "It's not that, kid, we just wanna protect you. It's been a long time since you did this."

Your mouth fell open in offense, "Just because I was depressed for the last few months, doesn't mean I'm useless, Barnes", you responded in a hurt tone, your eyes shining with tears.

Bucky's face flashed with realization and his eyes widened, he turned around with a pained look on his face, clearly not meaning to sound like that.

"Wait, no, I didn't-" "I'll stay with them, guys. It's okay. (Name), you're coming with us", Joaquin surprised the three of you with his response. You stared at him in shock. He gave you a tentative smile before turning to look at Sam through the rearview mirror, "That's okay, right, Sam?"

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line before hesitantly nodding his head. "But, no stupid business, no doing shit solo or disappearin’ without informing us. You're gonna follow whatever Bucky and I say, that clear?", Sam asked you and you nodded tersely.

"Thank you", you addressed Sam before turning to Bucky, "and I'm sorry, Buck. I know you didn’t mean it like that. I just…", you murmured lowly. Whenever someone would treat you were some fragile thing, it made you defensive. Because your brain would convince you that you were useless and that others thought the same. Depression and you were best friends, after all.

Bucky shook his head and patted your knee, "No, I'm sorry. I should’ve known better", he replied in a soft voice.

You gave him a weak smile and turned your attention back to Joaquin, "Thank you, Joaquin", you muttered softly. Joaquin looked at you with that beautiful smile stretching on his lips and patted your hand unknowingly.

Your hand was warm from where he had kept his on top. He took it away way too soon and you were left craving for his warmth, your hand tingling. You looked at his sharp side profile longingly before turning back to look outside the window, your chest heavy with something that you didn't want to name.

After a long flight to Berlin, the four of you finally landed and Sam and Bucky asked you to stay back at the hotel with Joaquin. They were going to the prison to meet up with Zemo and you understood the gravity of the situation so you chose to stay back.

After they left, you and Joaquin retreated to your respective rooms to freshen up. Once you had showered and finished changing into comfortable clothes, you walked out of the room and your attention went to Joaquin's room. The door to his room was ajar and you noticed the way his desk was already littered with his things- his laptop, headphones and a few pieces of paper. You could hear the shower running from the bathroom in the hallway and decided to approach his desk out of curiosity.

Your eyes first fell on a graphic on the screen, it was a design of a jet pack, the colors being green and beige, mainly. Then you looked at the papers laying on the desk- they were drawings of mechanical wings and a suit. Your raised your eyebrows, impressed at his drawing skills and at the fact that Joaquin Torres wanted to be the Falcon and he had already designed his own suit? How sweet, you thought. He really was, Sam's number 1 fan.

"Oh—Hi, (Name)."

You jumped at his voice and turned around and regretted it immediately because he was shirtless. Your mouth fell open and your face warmed up as you raked your eyes across his body. His curls were still damp and they sat atop his head in a perfect mess, he was wearing black shorts and oh my god, he was ripped. You knew his arms were muscular but he was always dressed in either his army uniform or jackets so you couldn't really tell. He was lean, his arms toned and his physique looked nothing less than an athlete's. You stared at him in shock and snapped out of your daze when he started walking towards you.

"Hi! Sorry, I—Ididn't mean to intrude, I saw the sketches and I just-", you stuttered and halted when he stood next to you, the scent of the vanilla body wash hitting your nose, his warmth practically beckoning you closer.

"Don't apologise, it's alright. You'd give me an honest review, at least", he murmured sheepishly, his cheeks reddening because he definitely noticed you checking him out. Joaquin wanted to scream and giggle at the same time.

"Yeah! Right-uh, these are pretty cool, actually. Didn't know you were an artist, as well", you replied nervously and let out a breathy laugh, focusing on the sketches in front of you. He finally moved away from you and you closed your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief when he came back wearing a tank top (which wasn't any better because you still wanted to bite his arms. Wait, what?)

Joaquin rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and chuckled, "Yeah...since I saw Sam for the first time on the TV, I started sketching him excessively. And it slowly became a hobby. Then I turned to graphic designing and digital art.”

You made an impressed face and picked up one of the papers, observing the details.

“You didn’t tell me you wanted to be the Falcon”, you teased him lightly.

He let out a sheepish chuckle and you noticed that his lower teeth were adorably crooked.

“I mean-is that bad? Flying makes me feel free. Can you imagine how invincible those wings must make Sam feel? He looks like- like an angel when he’s up there with those”, Joaquin replied, his voice taking on a dreamy and fond tone.

You raised your eyes to look at him and gave him a sweet yet pained smile, your chest constricting as you remembered the way Peter would talk about your dad.

“Yeah, he really does look amazing when he’s wearing the wings”, you agreed with Joaquin, your eyes welling up. You cleared your throat before asking Joaquin, “You told Sam about this?”

He pursed his lips, “Yeah…he’s testing me or somethin’. Says I’m not ready yet.”

He looked like a child who didn’t get his candy and you giggled at the look on his face. His eyebrows furrowed even further.

“Why is that funny…”, he grumbled.

“You remind me of someone, that’s all”, you admitted in between giggles.

Joaquin’s face relaxed, admiring your smile with a dopey look on his face and dared to ask, “Of who?”

Your giggles receded and a fond and nostalgic look passed your face, “His name is Peter. I think you’d get along well.”

“Peter…is he your friend or..”, Joaquin tried to ask casually, like it wouldn’t crush him if you said you were dating Peter.

Your face warmed and you sputtered, “He’s- yeah, I’m- I was friends with him.”

Joaquin tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, “Was? You guys don’t talk anymore?”

You scoffed in sarcasm, “Something like that. I had an episode a few months ago so I cut everyone off.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, (Nickname)”, Joaquin expressed sadly, not realising that he called you by your nickname.

You let out a small chuckle, “It’s alright, Jay.”

The look on Joaquin’s face was comical. He looked like he was buffering, face completely blank and eyes wide. You soon realised what you said and your eyes widened as well, your face heating up.

“I- uh”, you coughed lightly to get rid of the awkwardness, “we should order lunch”, you murmured and walked out of the room, your eyes shutting in embarrassment.

Joaquin stood there, his brain short circuiting at the fact that you just gave him a nickname and he loved it. And he wanted to hear you say it all the time.

“Should I tweak the green a bit or this one’s fine?”

You hummed. “Make it a lil’ darker. And go for the silver, looks good with the green.”

“Why not beige? Ooh or gold?”

“Do you wanna look like a certain God of Mischief?”

Joaquin made a face. “Yeah, nope. Silver it is.”

You smiled and took a bite from your sandwich.

“Soo…can I ask you somethin’?”, Joaquin asked, distracted, while working on his laptop.

You swallowed the bite and shrugged, “Sure.”

“So like, you can totally tell me to shut up-”

“Spit it out, flyboy.”

"Well- I've been thinking about it since Walker called you Midnight at the police station...Why'd you stop going out as that?"

You paused and swallowed nervously. Joaquin was about to back pedal when you responded, "Didn't see the point in going out to do that after...dad. Thought I'd stay alive for him and the life he fought so hard to give us, at least", you scoffed in a self-deprecating way before continuing, "Jokes on me because I was dead inside anyways. Didn't leave my room for weeks, didn't eat properly or sleep...cut off contact from everyone...Couldn't look at the suit without breaking down because it was the same thing I was wearing when he took his last breath", you sniffled and fiddled with your sandwich.

Joaquin looked at you with empathy and frowned.

"It's been lying around in my lab since then. Haven't bothered to repair it because-", your voice quieted down, "because if I change anything, then...then dad's touch will be gone."

Joaquin has experienced grief, not the kind where someone dies but the kind you experience when someone leaves your life. He doesn't know what it's like to be to be alive when the person you love the most has died- has ceased to exist. Yet, he felt his eyes well with tears and his heart break into a million pieces for you. Here you were, experiencing insurmountable amount of grief ever since you were a child and yet, you chose to be kind to people. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and protect you from everyone but for now, he settled with his shaky hand gently squeezing yours in support. You paused at the touch, electricity shooting up your arm.

"I could never imagine how you feel like. But, I just want you to know that I'm here for you. And so are Sam, Bucky and your family. You mean so much to so many people, (Name). You should be a little easy on yourself, this is your first time living life as well", he consoled you in a sweet voice and went to retract his hand before squeezing it once more, but you slowly turned yours to grasp his hand and squeezed it back, your gaze fixed on them.

Joaquin was so sure he'd stopped breathing. He subtly pressed his hand to his chest to check if his heart was still beating. You then looked up and gave him a shy smile, which he reciprocated, and both of you looked away, your faces warming up.

"Thank you, Joaquin", you whispered before slowly retracting your hand and cradling it on your lap. Joaquin flexed his hand in front him before closing it in a loose fist and rubbing his chest, "Anytime, (Name)", he responded in a quiet voice.

You cleared your throat and made an attempt to clear the tense atmosphere, "Don't think that just because I've been out of service for 6 months, means that I won’t body you during sparring."

Joaquin scoffed lightly, "Oh yeah, I'm sure you will."

You snapped your head to look at him, "What?"

"You were trained by a black widow, an archer, a god, a super soldier, a-" "Okay! Okay!", you laughed and slapped his hands. He laughed gleefully.

"You're an idiot, Jay", you jested. Joaquin just smiled dreamily and responded, "Sure", with a shrug.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from giggling at him.

After you and Joaquin were finished with your lunch, Joaquin received a call from Sam saying that they were going to Madripoor with Zemo. You sucked in a breath at that name because you knew how bad things are in Madripoor. You had heard all about it from Steve and Natasha and had done your own research on it. Now that they were going to be accompanied by Zemo? There’s no way you’re going to let them go on this mission without any backup.

Joaquin was supposed to stay back because of his duties and before Sam could say anything you announced, "I'm coming with you two."

Joaquin snapped his head to look at you in worry and Sam immediately interjected, “No, you’re not. You’re gonna follow our instructions. Don’t be like that. That place is-” “Dangerous. I know, Sam. I know very well how bad things are in Madripoor. That’s why, I’m joining you guys. I can be of help. And, also, are you forgetting that the most wanted criminal in the world is with you guys?!", you argued.

Joaquin put a hand on your arm and tried to reason with you, "Hey, listen to Sam. Maybe there's-" "Joaquin, I know what I'm doing. Please", you cut him off in an agitated manner. Joaquin's face flashed with hurt before he straightened up and removed his hand from your arm. He stepped to the side to let you talk to Sam and tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in stomach.

"(Name)--look, we know Zemo is probably not the best person to be trusted-" "No shit" "-but he knows what he's doing. This is right in his bag", Sam tried to make you understand.

"Sam, I'm telling you, if you don't let me join you guys, I'm gonna reach there in any way. You know that", you replied seriously. Sam knew you were stubborn enough to be reckless and follow them across the world if you wanted to. Sam groaned loudly and you could just see the way he was pinching the bridge of nose between his fingers.

"Alright! Okay, you're coming. But you're staying with me and Bucky, at all times", he instructed in his soldier voice, as if you were his subordinate. You smirked in triumph, "Yes, sir."

Sam cut the call with a request to Joaquin to drop you off at this airport that was just a few miles away from the city and to make sure your gear was functioning and had trackers in them, incase something went wrong.

Ever since the call ended, Joaquin had become too quiet, not engaging in his usual chatter. He moved around the room silently, only speaking up if you asked him anything or if he wanted you to pass him something. It made you miss his idle talks so you finally broke and asked him, "Alright, what is it?"

"What is what?", he mumbled distractedly and focused on installing a tracker on your laptop.

"You've been way too quiet, flyboy. Thought you'd stopped breathing for a second", you chuckled. You saw his shoulders go up and down with the deep breath he took in, admiring the planes and muscles on his back.

"Don't worry about it", he replied shortly in a distant and clipped tone.

The smile wiped off your face so quick at his tone, you stood there staring at his back with a grimace. "Whoa, what happened there?"

He scoffed and went back to his room to retrieve some tools. You followed him, your steps rushed, "Dude, I asked you something. You're not going to ignore me like that", your tone offended.

He turned around abruptly and you stumbled against him, your chests almost touching. It would take a single step for you to reach his lips.

"Why are you going?", brown eyes stared intently at your face, trying to grasp your reaction, his jaw muscles twitching.

You furrowed your brows and looked up at him, almost losing your balance at how close he was and how you could see every single mole on his face from this angle. "What do you mean 'Why', Joaquin? They need help. I thought I made it very clear that I'd be going with them."

Joaquin scoffed in disbelief and folded his arms across his chest, his biceps straining, "You also said that you'd listen to them. You-- you basically blackmailed Sam that you'd follow them any way if they refuse!"

Your mouth fell open, "I'm not a child. Just because I said I'd listen to them, doesn't mean I'm gonna listen to how they're willingly going to enter the lion's den. I know Madripoor. It makes sense for me to join them-" "And what about you? If something happens to you there? You don't even have your suit, (Name)", Joaquin stressed.

You grimaced, "I can still fight without the suit, Torres. And why do you care so much?", questioning him sternly.

That shut him up real quick. He clenched his hands into tight fists and looked away from your narrowed eyes, clenching his jaw to stop himself from speaking further.

"Yeah. That's what I thought. If you don't wanna drop me, that's fine. I'll go alone", you announced with finality in your tone.

As you were about to call a cab, he spoke up again, "There's no need for that. Let's go", in a low tone and made his way out of the room to help carry your bags downstairs.

You watched him leave the room, your chest hurting with something that was dangerously inching closer to longing, once again. The way he was so close to you, the way your hands fit against each other, the way he worried about you, the way he was so curious of you and your life...it was too much. You didn't deserve it. The pressure against your chest and throat wouldn't go away, so you tried clearing your throat a few times and took a couple of deep breaths in, before heading out.

The cab ride was silent, Joaquin and you choosing to keep your distance. The tension was so thick, that you were sure even the driver was feeling it. You finally reached the port and saw a single private jet parked on it. Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, you approached it, knowing damn well it wasn't one of your dad's. The look of confusion on Joaquin's face was an indicator that he was just as confused. "What the hell..", he muttered before the two of you noticed three figures approach the jet.

"Oh my god", you mumbled in disbelief.

Zemo was wearing an expensive fur collared coat with expensive sunglasses and Sam and Bucky were following him closely. You stared at Zemo behind your glasses in shock. You always forgot that he was a Baron, a fucking royalty himself. He greeted the aged butler with the classic European kisses before turning to look at you.

"Ah. The little Stark. It is an honor to meet you again", Zemo extended his hand and greeted you politely. Your mouth fell open and you looked at Sam and Bucky in exasperation, Joaquin pressing himself closer to you in protection, Sam and Bucky lowered their gazes in embarrassment.

"Dude, seriously?", you asked him with a shocked chuckle leaving your mouth. Zemo looked at everyone with a confused and oblivious look on his face, “What happened?”, he asked in that thick accent of his.

“Zemo, just—get inside. We’ll join you”, Bucky told Zemo in a bored manner. After Zemo boarded the plane, you turned to address Sam and Bucky.

“Wow. Hopping on our favourite criminal’s private jet like we’re going on a lovely vacation! Amazing!”, you sassed them and clapped your hands together.

Bucky let out a sigh, ��Look. We don’t have any other option. His whole shtick is that he hates super soldiers. He has all these…contacts that can get to the lowest level and help us find out about the flagsmashers. We gotta do this if we don’t want to get caught up by Walker.”

“And why didn’t you ask me for help? Steve and Natasha were the ones who told me everything about madripoor, you know. Trust me, I know how bad it is. You guys will need backup”, you told them convincingly, Joaquin shifting in discomfort next to you.

Sam looked at you before letting out a sigh, “Okay. But if anything goes bad you pull back immediately, got it?”, his brown eyes staring at you in concern.

“Yes, Sam. I promise”, you reassured him sincerely. Sam nodded.

“Joaquin, you gotta report back to base and keep a track of us alongside the others. I’ll keep you updated”, Sam instructed Joaquin and patted his shoulder before boarding the jet. Bucky lingered around and smirked at you before joining Sam inside. You rolled your eyes and turned to face Joaquin, removing your sunglasses at the same time.

“See you in a minute?”, you squinted your eyes and gave him a tentative smile.

Joaquin let out a breathy chuckle and nodded his head. The way the sun was hitting his smooth skin, the chilly wind making his cheeks turn rosy, his radiant smile directed at you— all of it made your heart soar with joy and you couldn’t resist stepping closer and hugging him.

Your arms went around his back, you were slightly on your tippy toes and you settled your chin on his shoulder. You felt his body freeze, afraid that you’d pushed his boundaries you tried to pull back but his arms came around your waist and he hugged you close to him, his head leaning against your temple—you could smell the clean scent of his shampoo. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of content, him mirroring you and you felt yourself blush.

“Take care, Quino. And don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine”, you whispered against his ear.

Joaquin was sure he was going to faint. Not only were you hugging him willingly, but you had called him Quino—so softly, at that. He was so content to just stand here and feel your warm and soft body against him. He hugged you tighter and murmured close to your ear, “Please come back safely.”

You smiled and nodded against him before pulling back slowly, none of you wanting to separate from the other. You approached the stairs and waved at Joaquin for the last time, him waving back and giving you his best smile while watching you go in.

Joaquin’s chest felt hollow now that you were away from him and he wished he could go with you and give you as many hugs as you wanted. But he left with hope blooming in his heart, because you had finally started to open up to him.

As soon as you boarded, Sam and Bucky looked at you with a knowing look in their eyes, communicating that they had witnessed the entire scene with Joaquin and your face warmed up. You averted your gaze from them and chose to sit on the seat behind Sam, choosing to keep your distance from those two (+ Zemo) and decided to put on your headphones to listen to your playlist.

As the plane took off, you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest, hating the fact that you had to leave Joaquin behind and hating the fact that you craved his touch and presence more than you liked to admit.

Part 7

AN: i promised more Joaquin and reader content and u shall get it! Pls like and reblog! ☺️

taglist: @og-baby-ob14 @parkersjoy @littlemsramirez

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 day ago

Text

Broken Toys

Part 7 of the Uncaged series

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

A/N: I’m still technically on hiatus, and still writing some requests in my own time, but I literally just can’t stop updating this series, it’s too much fun.

Warnings: panic, torture, blood, the cage flashbacks are getting a little more graphic (if you guys hate that then I can dial it down in future chapters, let me know), kind of attempted s**c*de (but not entirely, kind of like last chapter where it’s not meant to be s**c*de). Doesn’t really follow show continuity

Sam had screwed up big time. The worst part was, he didn’t even know why it didn’t work.

When Dean had hurt Sam’s hand, the hallucination of Lucifer had fizzled. When Sam took over and squeezed his own hand so hard his stitches broke, Lucifer disappeared completely.

So why didn’t that work for you?

Granted, shooting you had probably not been the best idea, but Sam wasn’t thinking. He knew how horrible it was to have Lucifer in your head, and he just wanted to get the devil away from you. But instead, he broke you.

“He’s gone, isn’t he sweetheart?” Sam asked gently, trying to get you to look up. Your whole body was shaking, and you wouldn’t let go of your knees.

“You can’t just shoot her!” Dean snapped, but he bit his tongue when you flinched.

“I-I—“ Sam’s hands were shaking. What had he done? “I just wanted to help her. You were right, pain made him go away.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just—“ Dean shook his head. “Forget it. Let’s get her out of here, I need to clean up that wound.”

You let out a cry of protest when Dean grabbed at you, but you didn’t fight him as he lifted you into his arms.

“You’re ok kiddo,” he assured you. “I got you, I’m gonna patch you up.”

Sam could tell you weren’t listening. You had this glassy-eyed look that he knew all too well…

It was a look of utter defeat, and he’d seen it so many times before.

Lucifer had done everything he could possibly think of to your body. You were unrecognizable, a pulsing bloody mass that Sam could barely make out against the blood-soaked backdrop of the cage’s walls and floors.

He didn’t want to look anymore, he didn’t want to see, but Lucifer had put a hook through his spine to hold him in place, and pins in his eyelids to force him to watch.

You’d stopped screaming hours ago—or maybe it was days. Sam had never thought the day would come where he would beg to be tortured, but now his voice was hoarse from begging and he would do anything to take your place.

“Not much more I can do here…” Lucifer muttered. Sam let out a sigh, partly in relief and partly in terror—Lucifer would stop hurting you, but Sam knew he was next. Lucifer’s next words, however, made Sam wish again to be tortured. “I guess I’ll have to start over.”

He reached his hand out, touching it to your forehead. In a flash of light, you were whole again. Sam had seen it a million times, only this was different; you didn’t sob in relief, you didn’t try to run, you didn’t move or even flinch. You just stayed there on the floor, your eyes vacant and empty. You didn’t care anymore.

“Hello?” Lucifer waved his hand in front of your face. “Anybody home?” No reaction. This didn’t make Lucifer happy. “Hey!” He snapped, slapping you across the face. Your head slammed back against the bars of the cage, but beyond a small grunt of pain you gave no reaction.

Sam had never seen you so defeated. So empty.

“Fine,” Lucifer grumbled. “Looks like I might’ve broken my little toy.” Then the red eyes were on Sam. “Good thing I’ve got two.”

The ring of Sam’s cell phone brought him back to the present. It was Bobby, and he needed help.

…

You let fake Dean carry you to the car while fake Sam talked on the phone. Something about Leviathans, and Bobby in trouble.

Your heart sped up a little at that, because it was Bobby and you couldn’t let Bobby get hurt.

But it wasn’t Bobby, because if Sam and Dean were fake then Bobby had to be fake, too.

Your leg was still bleeding, but it was one of the least painful things Lucifer had done to you, so it didn’t bother you much. What did bother you was that you didn’t know where the real Sam was.

Ever since you woke up out of the cage, even when you’d thought it was fake, you thought Sam was with you. You’d taken comfort in the fact that even if Dean and Bobby and the world around you was just Lucifer screwing with you, you still had Sam.

But then he’d shot you.

It couldn’t be him; Sam wouldn’t do that. So where was Sam? Was he never in this hallucination, and he was just suffering alone with Lucifer?

You couldn’t let him suffer alone; you had to find him. It didn’t matter if this hallucination was the best thing you’d felt in over a hundred years. It didn’t matter how real it felt when Dean held you close, or how good it felt. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t real—nothing mattered if Sam wasn’t here with you.

You had to get out of here and get back to Sam. Even if it meant getting back to Lucifer, too.

…

“Kid, listen.” Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, but you didn’t look at him—you weren’t looking at anything. “I’ll patch up your leg as soon as I can, but when we get to Bobby’s I want you to stay in the car, ok? We don’t really know what’s out there.”

It didn’t even look like you’d heard him.

Dean huffed, focusing his eyes back on the road. He’d been worried about you and Sam since you got back, but this was different; it was like you weren’t even here anymore. Even when you’d first come back, and he couldn’t be sure if you understood a word he’d said, you had looked around and reacted to things and—and looked alive.

“Dean.” Sam’s horrified tone caught Dean’s attention, and ice froze his veins when he caught sight of Bobby’s house.

The car yard was on fire, and the house was a charred shell.

“No no no.” Dean screeched the car to a halt, having just enough presence of mind to tell you to stay put while he jumped out of the car and rushed to the house.

“Bobby!” He yelled, and Sam echoed his call.

This couldn’t be happening. Dean already had too much on his plate.

He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

…

Fake Sam and Dean were wandering around the smoking remains of Bobby’s. They were yelling, and they sounded so scared, but you weren’t listening. You were waiting.

“Looking for me, kid?” You shuddered involuntarily at Lucifer’s voice, even if he had been who you were waiting for.

“Whe-where—“ you swallowed hard. You had spoken around Lucifer before, but almost never to him. “Where’s Sam?”

Lucifer tilted his head, as if he didn’t know what you were talking about.

“Sammy? He’s right out there.” Lucifer pointed, but you didn’t look.

“That’s not Sammy,” you insisted. “That—he hurt me. Sammy would never hurt me.”

“Interesting,” Lucifer mumbled to himself.

“I want Sam back!” You demanded, though your voice and body was shaking.

Lucifer raised his eyebrows, looking none too happy that you were demanding things from him.

“Someone’s gotten brave.” Lucifer clicked his tongue. “And we can’t have that.”

…

Sam paused his search for Bobby when he heard you talking to yourself. Or to Lucifer. Sam slid around to the back of the Impala to listen.

“That’s not Sammy,” you were saying. Was Lucifer trying to trick you? He’d never shown you visions of each other before—he’d never had to, because he always had you both right where he wanted you. “That—he hurt me. Sammy would never hurt me.”

Sam’s heart caught in his throat. You weren’t talking about a hallucination, you were talking about him. You thought he was a hallucination because he’d shot you.

He’d screwed everything up, but he could fix it. He had to.

Sam took a step towards the Impala, but he froze when Dean called out for him.

He had to fix you, but it could wait. Dean was either in trouble, or he’d found Bobby. Sam reluctantly turned away from you and rushed to find his brother.

…

The Impala and the backdrop of Bobby’s disappeared with a snap of Lucifer’s fingers, to be replaced by the cage. You’d never been happy to see the bars before, but now you couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped you. Because at least this was real, and Sam had to be here even if you couldn’t see him.

“Where’s Sam?” You demanded, shocked that you were even able to get the words out with Lucifer staring at you.

“Oh no,” he scoffed. “You don’t get to make demands little toy, not ever. And especially not after the way you’ve been acting. I mean, how many times do I have to tell you that I hate hearing your voice?” Lucifer clicked his tongue. “It’s been much too long since we’ve had play time, don’t you think?”

Your whole body was shaking, and you knew that no answer you gave would get you out of what was coming. But you took a deep breath to steel yourself, thinking that just maybe, after you got through this, Lucifer would let you see Sam.

…

They managed to take out a leviathan by dropping a car on it, but they were no closer to knowing where Bobby was. Not to mention, Dean broke his leg in the fight, and Sam was half carrying, half dragging him to the car.

Not exactly a success.

“Hospital first, then we’ll look for Bobby,” Sam said. He didn’t want Dean trying to talk him out of going to the hospital, but Dean didn’t have any objections. Instead, Dean was staring into the back seat of the Impala, a worried furrow in his brow.

Sam followed his gaze, his breath stopping when he saw you. You were laid out on the back seat, your eyes wide and unblinking. But your hands were twitching, and you were whimpering softly, so Sam knew you were alive. Which could only mean you were going through the same kind of episode he had—in your mind, you were back in the cage.

“Hey—“ Sam leaned Dean up against the Impala so he could use it as a crutch, then yanked open your door and reached in for you. You didn’t react to his hands grabbing yours, or his frantic calls of your name.

“C’mon, cmon—“ Sam grunted, shaking you, but you still didn’t respond.

Sam had no clue what to do.

…

You didn’t bother to move. Even if it didn’t hurt like crap—which it did—it wouldn’t do you any good; you had nowhere to go. So instead, you stayed on the dirty floor of the cage, listening to the soft drip, drip, drip of your blood dripping off Lucifer’s knife. Or maybe it was dripping off his fingers. After a while, everything hurt so bad that you couldn’t tell what he was hurting you with.

You lifted your head off the ground when you heard a voice calling your name—Sam’s voice. You blinked, and suddenly you were staring into Sam’s eyes, but you weren’t in the cage anymore; you were in the Impala.

“No,” you whimpered, shuddering at the sound of your own voice; you weren’t supposed to speak. But you couldn’t help it—frustration was building inside you, threatening to bubble over like a sizzling pot that had been forgotten on the stove. You weren’t supposed to be back here again. You weren’t supposed to keep hallucinating.

You never doubted Lucifer’s ability to be cruel, but you had believed so strongly that he had finished with this stupid fake world—why wouldn’t he be, when he knew you didn’t believe it?—but you were still here, still staring at stupid fake Sam and stupid fake Dean. You couldn’t take it anymore; you wanted your real brother back.

“No!” This time you yelled, and you didn’t care what the punishment would be. You pushed fake Sam away from you and pressed your hands to your face, covering your eyes. You noted that Lucifer had healed your wounds, but what did that matter if he didn’t let you see Sam?

Back to the cage. Take me back. I want to go back to what’s real.

You closed your eyes shut tightly, but nothing changed.

“Honey.” Fake Sam’s voice was soft and sweet and so…Sam. You shook your head—you weren’t going to fall for it again. “You’re back, you’re here. It’s ok now, you’re safe.”

Safe? Is that what he wanted you to think? That you were safe? How naive did he think you were?

“Go away,” you mumbled through your tears, pushing at Sam’s arms. “It’s not you, you’re not Sam, so go away!”

“Kid—“ Sam’s voice caught. “It’s me, it’s Sam.”

“You shot me! Sam would never hurt me, never!“ You sobbed out the words, curling in on yourself. Take me back, Lucifer. I wanna go back to Sam.

“Sam—“ Dean’s pained grunt caught your attention. You didn’t like seeing Dean in pain, fake or not.

“Ok, alright.” Sam swallowed hard. “Kid, you gotta get in the front. Dean’s leg is broken, we’re going to the hospital.”

When you continued to sob into your knees without a response to Sam, he reached down and lifted you out of the back seat.

“Please take me back,” you sobbed. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll be perfect, I promise, just let me see Sam again.”

Fake Sam was stiff, his hands shaking as he carried you to the front. You knew it was just Lucifer screwing with your mind, but the heartbroken look fake Sam gave you when he set you down still hurt.

“I don’t know how to make you believe that this is real,” fake Sam breathed. “But I’m gonna help you. I promise.”

“You enjoying my little show?” Lucifer’s appearance next to you had you flinching, but when you opened your mouth to speak he put his fingers to his lips. “Shh. If you’re good, I’ll give you the secret of how to get back to Sam.”

You snapped your mouth shut, and fake Sam looked from you to where Lucifer was.

“Back off!” Fake Sam snapped, and you noticed he was squeezing at the stitches in his palm. What was that about?

“Just do what I say, and I’ll tell you exactly what it’ll take for me to let you back to Sammy,” Lucifer promised.

You curled up, turning your gaze away from fake Sam and nodding at Lucifer.

…

Sam let you sit in the car while he took Dean into the hospital. He had no idea what to do with you, so locking you in the Impala seemed like the only choice.

“You can’t leave her alone,” Dean was insisting while Sam helped him through the emergency room doors. Sam knew it wouldn’t help to say that Dean needed help too, so he just said—

“I’ll get her, just give me a minute.”

When he returned to you, you were hyper focused on something—or someone—that Sam couldn’t see.

“Do you wanna go in and see Dean?” Sam asked gently. No response. Sam was about to try again when his phone buzzed with a text.

Bring her somewhere safe. Come get me when you’re done.

It was from Dean. Of course he didn’t want his little siblings hanging around the hospital waiting and worrying—it was Dean, after all. He didn’t want anyone worrying about him.

“We’re gonna find a safe place to lay low for now, then I’ll come back for Dean,” Sam told you. You didn’t look like you were listening, but he didn’t want to drag you around without telling you what was going on, just in case.

The Impala was eerily quiet for a few minutes, before Sam decided to try again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know that’s why you don’t trust me. I don’t know how, but I’m gonna make it up to you—I’m gonna prove to you that this is real.”

Sam didn’t get a response.

…

You let fake Sam take you to a motel, and you sat still and quiet while he started to patch up your wound. You didn’t know why Lucifer didn’t drop the charade, and either heal your wound with a snap of his fingers or make it hurt worse, but you supposed that he was just messing with you for the fun of it. Still, watching him painstakingly care for your leg was strange, if not tedious.

“I’m gonna show you that this is real.” Fake Sam had said this at least half a dozen times. You didn’t get it; you knew this was fake, and Lucifer knew you knew this was fake, so what was the point of this?

You’d tossed around the idea that maybe this really was real, but dropped it quick. Sam would never hurt you, so this wasn’t Sam; it was that simple.

“You’re all done,” Sam spoke gently now, like he was worried he was going to scare you. It felt so much like Sam, but you couldn’t believe it was him. You couldn’t be let down again, it would be too much for you to handle. “I’ve gotta go get Dean from the hospital. Are you gonna be ok while I’m gone?”

This was the first thing you bothered to react to. You gave fake Sam a firm nod, which seemed to surprise him.

You wanted Lucifer to finally tell you how to get back to the real Sam, and for some reason you didn’t think he would with fake Sam there. It didn’t seem to make much sense, but you’d stopped trying to make sense of the devil’s torture a long time ago.

So you watched fake Sam leave the room with an agonizing glance back at you, and once he was gone you were searching for Lucifer.

“Someone’s eager.” This time the voice didn’t startle you, but you felt your muscles tense at the sound; that voice always meant pain. “I wonder just what it is you’re waiting for.”

You opened your mouth, then snapped it shut. You wouldn’t get anywhere with nagging the devil, and you’d only piss him off by speaking.

“She’s learning.” Lucifer’s twisted grin turned your stomach, but you ignored it. “Ok ok, you’ve been behaving well enough. I guess it’s time for you to come join me and little old Sammy in the cage again.”

Again, you stayed silent, but your hands started to shake—whether in anticipation or terror, you didn’t know.

“The answer’s right here, kid.” Lucifer reached for you, and you flinched, your fists clenched. But he merely reached into your belt and grabbed the gun that was tucked there.

He held it limply out to you, and you took it without a word.

“There you go,” he cooed, sending shivers down your spine. “Aim it right between the eyes, kid. That’s what Sammy did.”

“I—I don’t…” you swallowed hard, the weight of the gun pressing into your shaky palms. “I don’t believe you.”

You knew you couldn’t die in the cage, but the fact that Lucifer wanted you to try made you wonder if something even worse would happen.

“Well, if you want to stay here forever then so be it!” Lucifer snapped, and his sudden anger only made you feel more resolved. He was only ever angry when he wasn’t in control.

“Ok.”

Your response seemed to make him even angrier, and you felt yourself shaking when he approached you with a murderous gaze.

“Listen here you little—“ Lucifer stretched out his hand, but the minute his hand touched your arm the motel room around you snapped away, to be replaced by the cage.

You gasped, and for a second the motel room came back.

“Wait—no—this isn’t supposed to happen!” Lucifer yelled, before he and the motel room disappeared again. In its place was the cage, and curled up shivering in the corner was—

“Sam!” You ran to your big brother, and the closer you got, the more injuries you saw. It didn’t faze you as much as it should have; you were used to seeing it.

“N/N,” Sam breathed, reaching up for you and tucking you into an embrace. “You’re here, you’re here.” He didn’t seem to believe it.

“I didn’t know where you went.” You finally let the tears fall as you spoke. “I-I thought I was with you, but then he hurt me—“

“I know,” Sam said. “I know, he-Lucifer did the same thing to me. I didn’t know what was real.”

“He told me to shoot myself,” you whimpered. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Sam insisted. “He’ll tell you to do it in the hallucination world, but that just makes things worse. You have to do it here.”

“What?” You breathed. Now Sam was telling you to try to kill yourself?

“If you do it while he’s making you hallucinate, then it gives him more control,” Sam explained. “He did it to me. I only broke his control when I took one of his knives and—and—“ Sam swallowed. “If you do it here, it breaks his control. I don’t really understand it, and he can still hurt us physically like he always could—but it breaks his connection with your mind.”

Sam slowly let you go, and you found yourself walking over to Lucifer’s weapon cart without even thinking about it. You picked up Lucifer’s crooked blade, and it shook in your grip. You wanted to break Lucifer’s control over your mind—you needed to.

“Are you sure?” Your terrified gaze found your big brother. “I’m—I’m scared.”

“It doesn’t even hurt,” he promised. “I would never do anything to hurt you, right?”

You let go of the blade with one hand, reaching out and grabbing Sam’s. You squeezed his hand twice instinctively, and you were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the way he hesitantly glanced down at your hand before quickly squeezing back twice.

You closed your eyes, turning the blade before you could think about it for too long and plunging it into your gut.

You let out a cry as pain blossomed around the wound along with crimson red.

“You—you said it wouldn’t…” your gaze lifted from the wound back to Sam’s face. Only it wasn’t Sam’s face anymore.

The features that had been marked with nicks and scars were now melting away to be replaced with hauntingly grotesque features, which were curved into a vicious grin. Lucifer’s real face.

“You didn’t really think that I was Sammy, did you?”

Your mouth opened to respond, but no words came out.

Lucifer continued, “I mean, you had the real deal right in front of you all this time, but you were too broken to believe it.”

“He can’t be the real Sam. He hurt me,” you whimpered. But you didn’t know if you believed that anymore.

“Yeah, guess he’s not as good of a brother as you thought.” Lucifer shrugged. “Too bad he’ll never get to apologize.”

“Le-leave him alone!” You insisted.

“Him?” Lucifer chuckled. “Oh, you’re missing my point kid. He won’t be able to apologize, because you’ll be dead by the time he gets home.”

“What?”

“Did you forget about that?” Lucifer gestured to your hands, and you looked down, suddenly remembering his blade lodged in your gut. Only it wasn’t his blade anymore.

“Oh, right, this wasn’t real either,” Lucifer went on. “At least, the cage part.” He snapped his fingers, and you were in the motel room that was littered with Sam’s belongings, instead of the cage littered with weapons.

“I knew you wouldn’t have the guts to take yourself out unless it was Sammy telling you to do it. You really thought you two were going behind my back, trying to get one over on me. Look where that got you.”

Instead of Lucifer’s crooked blade, it was Dean‘s hunting knife sticking out of your stomach.

You whimpered as your knees hit the ground hard. You watched the blood drip down your fingers, before looking up to see the devil still leering at you.

“You gave up real life with your real big brothers just because I pulled your string a little.”

The twisted face above you was fading to black along with the rest of the world.

“You may have gotten out of the cage, little thing, but you will still always and forever be my broken toy.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

Uncaged Taglist:

@redbird-tf @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @o-birdseed-o @hopefuldreamers-world @s0urw00lf @yasmin12312 @star-maker-rain-dancer

#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester spn #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x little sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester spn #spn sam winchester #supernatural sam winchester

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rexhya · 1 day ago

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The Mystical Islands | beach gazing — ✦ ✦

synop — a marine biologist takes a solo trip to faraway islands aquire knowledge on endangered species and what can be done to help them! finding two mythical creatures wasn't exactly on your list of things but you'd never turn a blind eye to a creature in need.

warn — mini series! female reader, merman!suguru, merman!satoru, i ave no idea what real marine biologists do

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

7 AM, it was your third day and a great day on the Mystical Islands. Despite being almost 3,000 miles away from home you were feeling pretty confident about your research. You had already found a great deal of information about the wildlife in the ocean and the locals helped you as well.

It was around 12 PM when hou have first saw something that shouldnt exist. You hummed lightly, typing away at your laptop and enjoying the beach breeze. Your cabin was being rented for all of the three months you'd be staying here and you were glad to have such a nice spot near the beach.

"Suguru look, she's looking this way now. Do you think she can see us?"

"She'd better not or we might be in trouble, theres no telling what a human could do."

"Look it's fine, she went back to typing."

"You sound disappointed."

"I liked it when she was looking at us, i've never seen an eye color like that before..."

The other merman sighed at his partner, flipping his tail impatiently on the rocks. It had been like this for over three days, Satoru insisting he watch this human he found and Suguru being dragged alongside. He'd always been interested in humans but never this intense curiosity was getting dangerous.

There was no garuntee the moment you saw one of them you wouldn't try to hurt and harvest them. (like in the stories he'd heard so much about ) Of course the second you intentions were revealed Suguru would rip you apart and drag your body so far in the ocean nobody would be able to find you.

Satoru didn't budge, he continued staring at your body, giddy for every stretch, and pull of muscle you made after tapping the box that sat in front of you.

"Okay, time to go. We've been here too long, someone may have spotted us by now."

Satoru pouted but graciously relented. "Fine, but tomorrow I wanna get closer."

Suguru scowled, "Any closer and you might loose a fin. We can watch from here, that's final, now lets go."

Satoru couldn't belive it, did Suguru somehow think he was the boss of bim? "Fuck off, I am getting closer and thats final." He could kiss his merman ass.

Thinking back on it now, they probably shouldn't have started a fight on the beach of where a human lived, that's their fault.

"Uhm, are you two okay?" a feminine voice called from behind them. They snapped their heads to where ut came from.

You, more beautiful up close were peering at the two mermans rolling around covered in sand with an almost empty look on your face. You didn't seem to care they were lacking the most essential things a human should have, that being legs and feet.

Satoru was the first to speak, pushing Suguru off him and quickly righting him self into a sitting position, ( which Suguru would have said looked very slutty if he could speak properly ) and replying back.

"Of course we are, are you? I saw you looked quite stresses over there, anything bothering you?"

You sighed and nodded, seemingly reminded of your previous dilemma. "Oh yeah, it's getting so hard make any good progress around here, the seas been so quiet."

"Progress? On what?" Satoru's tail flapped excitedly agaisnt the sand, you were so friendly and man that eye color sure was unique.

Sugur watched as the two of you made conversation, his jaw permanently glued to the floor, did you not see the huge flapping tails they both had or did you simply not care. Or maybe you were one of thoes humans whos screws didn't falls perfectly into place, either eay they needed to take this opportunity and get out of here.

"Wow, your teeth look so sharp." You were talking to him now and he snapped his mouth closed embarrassed.

"Yeah they have to be sharp so we can chew through humans like you." Suguru was being mean he'd admit you hadnt done anything to them but he and Satoru seriously need to get out of here.

"Really! That's fascinating, do you eat all parts of a human just some. Does our meat taste good? I've always wondered."

Satoru cackled as Suguru's jaw fell back open. You couldn't be serious.

They would soon find out, you were complaining serious.

"W-we, We don't eat humans." Suguru choked out.

You pouted, "Oh, well they what do you eat? I can't be anything tougher than a seal I'm sure?"

He was starstruck, not only did you guess right but you were completely unconcerned about their still flipping tails.

"Hey you know were mermans right?" Suguru blurted, stopping the cackling Satoru.

Your eyes comically slid from their faces to their tails. "Well, yes I guessed that pretty quickly. What do yiu take me for huh?"

And now you were offended he undermined your knowledge? What was happening right now? This felt like a dream.

Satoru resumed laughing, this time even harder.

You were completely serious.

note — hope you enjoyed part one to this lil series!

#i have a vauge memory of someone else writing smth like this before #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk geto #jjk x y/n #geto x reader #gojo x reader #satosugu #gojo satoru #geto suguru

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softlymaximoff · 3 hours ago

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Bite Me, I Dare You

18+ ONLY! MEN & MINORS DNI (blank blogs will be blocked you do not have my permission to republish my work onto any platform.

Summary: after being a brat all day, Wanda and Nat decide to see how long you realise you’ve stepped right through Hell’s doorstep with a shit eating grin. Natasha always loved seeing this side of you come out to play but Wanda was much less forgiving.

Characters: Mommy!Wanda, Daddy!Nat x brat!fem!reader

Warnings: Mommy kink (Wanda), Daddy kink (Nat), mean!domme Wanda, softer!domme Nat, edging, orgasm denial, restraints, spanking, humiliation and degradation (kinda?), strap warming, cunnilingus, fingering, strap-on, oral fixations, mentions of gagging, breath play, after care, safe word check ins. If I have missed anything else lmk xx

Word Count: 3.7k words

Your task was simple. Wait for one of your Dommes to come home from a mission debrief and don’t get into trouble. You had been keeping busy all afternoon, you baked a cake, lit up a few candles and against one of your Dominant’s wishes, attempted to clean out the garage that Nat had said to leave alone. Did you listen? No. There was a reason Natasha had told you to leave the garage alone for weeks now, for months you’d been begging for her to take you out again on a ride on her bike. She was always busy and Wanda didn’t know how to use the motorbike so your patience was wearing increasingly thin as the months flew by, the bike untouched by the three of you.

Until today.

Your hand traced the black paint on the Ducati Panigale V4 and you huffed into the empty room. Natasha had promised to take you out this week and considering it was Thursday, you weren’t counting on her promise. An idea popped into your head and your sour mood instantly shifted into a sly but determined one. Hoisting one leg up and over the middle seat, your breath hitched as the bike was just too high for both of your legs to reach the ground. With a furrow of your brows, you positioned yourself very carefully so you were sitting square in the middle of the seat and pulled your phone out, snapping a photo from above.

“Wishing it was you instead Daddy”

You grinned as you hit send, actually quite proud of the stunt you pulled. One hand was resting on the seat just in front of your body and the phone was angled in a way where Natasha could see the cusp your bra peaking out of your tank top. The hard part was getting off this thing, Natasha always made it look so effortless but you had the coordination of a baby deer and the sheer size of the sports bike made it extremely hard to not throw you off balance. It took a whole ten concentrated minutes for you to shimmy off the bike, shin accidentally scraping the kickstand and you let out an unamused grumble. Damn your slightly taller girlfriend and her ridiculously high bike.

Your phone buzzed in your hands and you had to bite back a groan at the message. You had Natasha right where you wanted her. Plus this game was way more fun when you just knew Natasha would give in more than Wanda.

“And just what do you think you’re doing kotenok? Didn’t Daddy ever teach you not to play with her toys?”

Just like that, a smirk made its way across your face and you giggled. To your surprise, she didn’t follow up with another text. Usually, when you’re in one of these moods, your Dominant’s would give you a little bit of redirection. A gentle command to cease your growing brattiness but the text never came. Grumbling again, you took it as an opportunity to dig yourself an even deeper hole.

“Daddy lets me play with Mommy though? Does that mean Mommy is Daddy’s toy too?”

This time, almost instantly you got a response.

“Watch it zaya, keep mouthing off like that and I’ll show Mommy. You know how she is with that mouth of yours”

The mischief behind your eyes never left as you waltzed into your shared room, ferreting through the closet to find a matching custom set of red lace panties and a bra. You stripped yourself bare and dressed yourself in the lingerie, eyes shining in awe at the way the small crown dangled in the middle of your sternum and the widow hourglass charms rested on each sides of your hips.

“Oh I know, she lets me fuck her with it, even said it was the best mouth her pussy ever felt”

You never normally used such language, but you were only repeating what Wanda had said! The panic you felt when Natasha sent a selfie of herself and Wanda, seemingly walking out of the conference room made your heart stutter in anticipation.

“Mommy said she’s not impressed dorogaya”

Quickly scrambling to pose in front of the floor length mirror, kneeling and pouting you took your own selfie and sent it with a follow up text.

“How about now? Also, why do the two of you have to go to debriefs together anyway? It’s not like we don’t live together or anything 🙄”

Another text, this time you knew it was Wanda typing and not Nat.

“Don’t push it any further puppy girl. Quit being a brat and pull your act together, you’re lucky Mommy’s in a slightly good mood tonight”

A low whine left your throat as you slumped down on the bed, rolling your eyes at the way Wanda wasn’t being any fun. You lay there for all of fifteen minutes, doom scrolling on some social app before you hear the keys jangle from the other side of the house. A giddy smile adorned your lips as you raced through the house ready to greet them, Wandas stern look slightly lessening as she saw your attire and Natashas infamous smirk growing.

“Hi trouble” Natasha spoke teasingly as she leaned in for a kiss, wrapping a hand gently at the base of your throat and deepening the kiss. A small whine echoed around the room and Natasha had to refrain from going further, remembering the conversation she and Wanda had on the way over. “Shh milaya, not yet” she pulled back and raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow as you pouted. “What am I, chopped liver?” Wanda’s voice was light but still had a certain edge to it as she crossed her arms and looked at you expectantly.

“Hi Mommy” you rolled your eyes and went in for a kiss but squeaked when she snapped the waistband of your panties against your skin. “Wanna try that again kotenok?” Her eyes narrowed when you huffed. Her fingers gripped your chin gently and she tilted her head, daring you to pull another stunt. “Hi Mommy” you tried again, a little softer as your face flushed at the reprimand and she smirked.

“Hi my little brat” she ran her thumb over your lips, humming when you obeyed her silent command and your breath hitched as she pressed down on your tongue slightly. “You have no idea how much this tongue of yours gets you in trouble detka” she pulled her fingers away, wiping them down on her jeans. “Also makes you cum, a lot” you snickered, pressing their buttons further. This time both of their eyes darkened and you gulped.

“Upstairs now. Knelt and hands behind your back” Wanda growled gently at you, Natasha dropping their files from debrief onto the kitchen table. You didn’t have any time to argue as Wanda snapped the waistband of your panties against your hips and sent you off with a light pinch to the thigh. You scrambled to the master bedroom and followed instructions for the first time that night.

Your knees hit the floor gently and you got yourself into position, your whole body buzzing with need and desperation. Tonight could go two ways, they would either edge you until you’re a mess or they’d completely ruin you. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind either. You could hear their voices murmuring softly in the common area and you had to bite back a whine. Patience was never your strong suit and they both knew that.

The second you heard footsteps coming through the hallway your eyes lit up. If you had a tail it would be wagging. The two Avengers stopped at the doorframe just taking you all in. “Who knew you could listen so well zaya” Wanda cooed as she crouched down and held a firm hand under your chin forcing your eyes to meet hers. “Shame you’re such a brat when you want to be though” she sighed in fake annoyance as she let go and walked over to her walk-in wardrobe.

“Natalia can you get her ready please” Wandas voice was smooth and controlled which fuelled your need to feel something, anything even more. Your eyes were trained on the Russian as she sauntered over to you, holding out a dark red silk ribbon and you subconsciously tried to squeeze your legs together. “Ah uh, spread them malysh” she murmured and nudged your knees apart gently with her combat boots.

“Hands out sweets” she ordered softly and you complied with a dopey smile. She rolled her eyes amusedly at your easy compliance, crouching to your level and tying your hands together in a pretty but secure bow. “Our little toy” she murmured and you held back a groan as her fingers deftly traced over your nipples. “So sensitive and so precious” she cooed teasingly. “Daddy please” you pouted and arched your back for effect but she just held your chin firmly. “Settle down” she spoke lowly and you sighed, not at all liking this situation you put yourself in. Natasha shimmied out of her clothes until she was on full display and you reached for her but she caught your hands and shook her head.

“Keep the attitude up kotenok and you wont be getting off for a week” Wandas sharp voice rang throughout the room and you grumbled. “You know, Mommy was going to let you eat her out tonight but I think Daddy will have to do it instead?” Wanda returned with a vibrator, handcuffs and a red strap snug around her hips. “No Mommy please! I wanna do it!” You sounded desperate but you didn’t care. “Talia help her get on the bed” Wanda ignored your whine and Natasha quite literally picked you up and threw you on the bed like a rag-doll.

“Arms up my love” Natasha wrapped her hands around your tied wrists and made quick work tying them to the headboard. Once she made sure they were well and truly secure, she trailed her fingers across your body. Hovering over each nipple before giving them a gentle kiss, your back arching in response. “Our sensitive little bunny” she whispered as she kissed just under your ear and sucked over your sweet spot.

“Don’t be so soft Natalia” Wanda rolled her eyes as she made her way over to you, pressing a perfectly manicured finger against your clit. Your hips bucked involuntary and she smacked the inside of your thigh, “Stay still” her eyes locked onto yours and you nodded slowly. “Colour?” She murmured softly, the contrast in her tone shocking you slightly but also making your heart swell. “Green Mommy” you replied meekly and she praised you with a kiss to your tummy.

“Now, I think it’s time for someone to learn her patience while Daddy gets you all nice and wet for Mommy” Wanda pulled her hands away as Natasha slid down your body so her face was inches away from your core. Her head resting on your inner thigh and her lips pressing feather light kisses along your skin. You had the prefect view, Natasha’s head between your thighs, her back arching perfectly ready for what ever Wanda had planned.

“Mommy’s gonna fuck Daddy and you’ll only cum when she does okay?” Wanda positioned herself behind Natasha and swiped her fingers through her girlfriend’s folds, the Russian stuttering forward into your clothed pussy. Your breath hitched as Natasha placed a chaste kiss over the top of your panties and you fought the urge to whine. “Fuck Tash, you’re so wet” Wanda groaned as she toyed with the spy, adding two fingers into her dripping entrance.

“Daddy please” you rolled your hips to chase her lips and whined when she shot you a warning glare. “You’re lucky Wanda hasn’t gagged you yet” she warned as she rocked her hips against Wanda’s fingers, moaning out Russian curses. The anticipation and tension was absolutely killing you. A soft gasp escaped your lips as Natasha got a hold of herself and moved your panties to the side, swiping her tongue through your folds. “I’ll never get over how sweet you taste malysh” Natasha hummed against your clit and you tugged on your restraints wanting to pull her closer.

“Needy girl” she chuckled darkly and slowly entered a finger, her lips never leaving their place on your clit. Her tongue circled your bundle of nerves lazily and your body was taught. Wanda lined her strap up with Natashas entrance and with a gentle kiss on the small of the Russian’s back, she pushed the dark red strap in. A few more controlled thrusts and Wanda was buried inside Natasha to the hilt.

A raspy moan rippled through the room and Natasha subconsciously sucked harder on your clit making you squeeze your legs tighter around her head. Wanda who was watching the whole scene smirked at her two girls falling apart. “God you two look beautiful” she grinned and wrapped a hand around Natasha’s throat, pulling her face away from your pussy slightly. “Give her hell Talia, god knows how she needs to be taught a lesson” Wanda bent down as she whispered in Natasha’s ear, the Russian groaning at the new angle.

Natasha grabbed the vibrator that had been sitting aside and turned it on a low setting, the quiet hum of the toy signalling that you had no way out of this torture. She smirked as she caught your eyes haze over and the furrow in your brow, clearly concentrating on not cumming until they gave you the ‘okay’. The second it touched your clit you were a whining mess. Natasha’s fingers still lazing pumping in and out of you as Wanda was fucking into her from behind.

“How many times can Daddy edge her little brat” Natasha chuckled as she amped up the intensity and you strangled out a moan. Natasha’s cocky tone was replaced with a hiss as Wanda spanked her once firmly and growled “Our brat”. Natasha rolled her eyes but corrected herself and was rewarded with a thumb pressing firmly against her clit. The familiar coil in your tummy was extremely obvious as your body tensed, your breathing coming in shallow pants and your legs were tensing. “Hold it baby girl” Natasha ordered and you whined, knowing just how cruel she can be when Wanda was behind her.

“Please Daddy, need- need to cum” you whimpered and pulled harder at your wrists only for her to stop the vibrations and pull away completely, her own orgasm coming at her full force as Wanda pinched her clit and stilled her hips. “NO!” You cried out, thrashing your legs to bring her back but Wanda was quick to send a sharp spank to your inner thigh that Natasha’s face wasn’t resting on. “Keep it up and you’ll be gagged” she narrowed her eyes at your scowl and you closed your eyes tightly trying to control your own ruined orgasm.

“Daddy did so well taking all of Mommy in don’t you think zaya?” Wanda kissed up the back of Natasha’s thighs, licking a lazy stripe across her folds where her strap was just moments before. Another needy, desperate whine slipped out of your lips and Wanda knew you were on the verge of completely spacing out. “Colour malysh” she moved Natasha off your thigh and the Russian shakily crawled up to your side. “Green but wanna feel you” you mumbled tearily and looked up at your tied wrists in defeat.

“Should have thought about that before mouthing off earlier kotenok” Wanda chuckled as she knelt in front of you and took off your panties with ease, the fabric sticking to your centre. “Oh hon, look how messy you are” she feigned innocence as she ran a single finger through your pussy, the mix between Natasha’s spit and your cum coating her fingers beautifully. “Mommy please” you tried again, hoping she’d just give in just this once.

“Sweetheart, I’m not kidding when i say I’ll gag you. Keep that mouth of yours shut unless you need to safeword or moaning our names” Wanda once again snapped her eyes up to you and hummed in satisfaction when you simmered down. Natasha ran her fingers around your nipples, every so often giving them a small pinch or rolling them between her pointer finger and thumb. Without warning, Wanda lined the tip of her strap to your entrance and your hips instinctively bucked into her. She gave a few slow circles on your clit with her thumb and soon enough, she’d bottomed out inside you.

She gave you time to adjust, her shallow thrusts giving you a hint of pleasure but not enough to send you over the edge, She rolled her eyes though when you tried to match her pace and she wrapped both hands around your hips, pressing them down into the mattress. “Have some patience puppy girl” she growled and Natasha set a hand on your throat, not applying pressure but grounding you. “Listen to Mommy zaya” she whispered and brought her free hand to her own pussy, gathering her slick bringing them to your lips just resting them there. A silent command which you happily obliged to.

“Look at you, this is all you needed hmm? A little edge, a little restriction, and a goddamn gag” Wanda chuckled lowly and picked up her pace, grabbing the vibrator and pressing it to your clit. The moan you muffled around Natasha’s fingers must have done something to the two of them as they gave each other a look and soon enough, the vibrator was on the highest setting, Natasha’s hand now had a little pressure and Wanda was quite literally rutting into you.

Your tummy was tightening, your legs were tensing and your eyes screwed shut. “Our brat gonna cum? Our sweet little devil wants her reward?” Wanda mocked and slowed her thrusts, the vibrator lessening its setting and your eyes flew open, biting Natasha’s fingers gently to get them out of your mouth. She knew you didn’t mean anything by it you just needed to communicate. “Mommy! Mommy please please I promise- I’ll be good- please Mommy” you struggled to convince her, Natasha’s hand letting go of your throat and untying your wrists. The minute your wrists were free you were wrangling for Wanda but Natasha brought your hands to her chest.

“Not tonight” Wanda pulled the vibrator away completely but kept her strap in, your hips twitching in anticipation. “You don’t get to cum tonight” she leaned down and whispered, giving a few more shallow thrusts, blatantly ignoring your whining and huffing. Natasha kissed your temple as you controlled your breathing from yet another ruined orgasm and Wanda kept thrusting lazily into you. After a few more agonising minutes of accepting your fate Wanda went to pull out for good but your hand shot out to her.

“Stay” you whimpered and attempted to pull her closer. You needed her. “Colour” she demanded softly and you whined not wanting to talk but instead of punishing you any further (Both avengers knew you were on the verge of being in that haze) Natasha tapped your cheek a few times. “Tap it out baby girl” she reminded you and your fingers wrapped around Wanda’s wrists, your pointer finger tapping the inside of her wrist once. The pair gave each other a once over and Wanda carefully flipped the two of you over so you were laying on top of her. Strap still buried deep inside you.

The new position making you groan and you sighed as you felt Wanda trail her fingers down your back lightly. “Tasha go get cleaned up and bring us some water” Wanda murmured in the stillness of the room and she rolled her eyes when Natasha bent down to kiss the top of your head before leaving the room. “Learned your lesson yet zaya?” Wanda traced patterns down your spine and you resisted the urge to roll your hips into her.

“You were extra mean today” you whined into the crook of her neck and let out a small squeak as she moved your hips further down onto her strap for a brief second. “You were extra mouthy detka” she raised an eyebrow as your lips met the base of her neck, sucking gently in retaliation. “I wouldn’t start a fight you can’t win sweetheart, Mommy’s still not over your little quips” she smoothed down your baby hairs and you felt your whole body relax.

It was nice, it was peaceful, it was safe. “I missed you” you whispered out into the room, not minding how upset you sounded. You heard her sigh and felt a kiss to the top of your head. “I know dorogaya. I’m sorry we were at the briefing for so long” her voice was equally as sad and in this moment you knew you were both feeling the same. Wanda just knew how to mask it better. “I promise tomorrow I’ll be good” you smirked against her skin and jolted when she poked your side.

“You’re always good for us my love. Always” she lifted your chin away from the safe place in her neck and kissed you deeply. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t heated it was just real. “If you can handle strap warming me all night without cumming I’ll wake you up tomorrow with you seeing stars” she promised and you bit your lip knowing it’s a promise she’ll keep. “Just don’t tease me all night and I’ll accept the challenge” you giggled as she hummed amusedly. “We’ll see”

The next morning, true to her word, Wanda had you moaning her name and gripping the sheets just minutes before you opened your eyes. Maybe just maybe, you’d learn that patience is key and leads to much more fun orgasms. Especially when they both decide to spoil their brat for being their good little toy.

#bite me i dare you #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat #wanda x natasha #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x you #wanda x reader #mommy!wanda #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha x you #natasha x reader #daddy!nat

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imperator-kahlo · 3 days ago

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I'm still ruminating on that scene between Gail and Tommy in 2x03. About what Gail says about Ellie.

I think it's important to the season, potentially quite troubling in its implications, and the first major change from the game that just kinda stumps me. What are they going for here?

(Is this post just a lengthy justification/reconciliation of my initial very positive response to Gail? Nope, absolutely not, I don't know what you're talking about.)

First off: I'm assuming competence on the part of the writers/showrunners. YMMV, but I believe the changes they're making are purposeful and considered. I think most of the changes last season were highly successful and that most of the changes this season are going to turn out to have been successful, too. So I'm coming at this with the assumption that both this scene and the character of Gail are there for a reason and thematically tied to the story.

Beyond the show and games, I'm drawing on the official podcast for season 1 but I haven't listened to season 2 and don't intend to until the season's over. Wild speculation ahoy!

The scene

Tommy: You see things that others don't. I'm nervous she's gonna do somethin' stupid. Gail: What, you didn't believe her speech? Tommy: Did you? Gail: Course not. She's a liar. Tommy: Well, there's a difference between lyin' and being a liar. Gail: Oh, I know. And that one? Liar. There was maybe one person she told the truth to, and he's… But we can agree to disagree about that. What matters is you're afraid. So, let's talk about it. Okay. Free of charge. Tommy: I just don't want her to go down the same paths that Joel did. Comin' up with justifications and such. All he was really doin' was lashin' out. Gail: So, you think she might have learned that behavior from him? Turns out nurture can only do this much. The rest is nature. If she's on a path, it's not one that Joel put her on. No. No. I think they were walking side by side from the very start. Tommy, I get it. You inherited her, and you wanna keep her out of trouble. Take it from a psychotherapist of 40 years. Some people just… Some people just can't be saved.

Does Gail matter?

I think she matters a lot. Gail appears in three episodes this season, according to IMDB. She gets a good amount of screen time in "Final Days" and "The Path". We linger on her reaction to important moments: the New Year's Eve fight, Ellie's speech in the town meeting. These pauses with Gail suggest that what Tommy says is true: she sees what others don't.

This is a considerable investment of precious screen time in a new character. They hired an absolute powerhouse of an actress to play her, and put her in scenes with three very important characters: Tommy, Ellie, Joel. Her presence in Jackson looms large.

And Gail was married to Eugene, a character we recognise from the game, a character who has been referenced several times in the first three episodes, and a person whose death is no longer natural. Instead, Eugene's death is linked to Joel (and, I suspect, to Ellie—more on that later). This killing is supposed to be on our minds. There's something more to learn about it.

Does this scene matter?

Look, it's the absolute lowest form of media analysis, but... this scene contains, almost verbatim, the episode's title. This episode, 'The Path', is a decisive one for Ellie. She's found, not to belabor the point, her path. And this entire conversation turns on Tommy's fear that Ellie will "go down the same paths that Joel did." I think this scene is pivotal for Ellie and for the themes of the show (which I don't think will be identical to those of the game). I don't think we can just throw up our hands, say "Gail's just a bitter drunk," and write it off as irrelevant to Ellie's arc.

Additionally: Mazin and Druckmann have been interested in exploring a darkness in Ellie since the beginning. In 1x01, 'When You're Lost in the Darkness', we get this unsettling reaction to Joel beating a man to death with his bare hands:

In the official podcast, Mazin says of this moment:

Ellie sees [Joel beat a man] to death, [punch] him over and over and over and Ellie is activated. And this is going to echo forward. This is something that Neil and I talked about a lot. Which was understanding where Ellie goes. And understanding what the connection is between Joel and Ellie. That there's a thread between them that is more than just I used to have a kid and you're also a kid. There's something else. That there's the connection already between Joel and Ellie that is different from his connection with his own daughter. And perhaps potentially stronger and certainly potentially more dangerous.

When they talk about where Ellie goes, they're talking about this season. Where Ellie goes is Seattle. And this scene is telling us something about what's at the end of that road.

Why does this absolutely fucking suck?

The million dollar question about this scene, imo, is whether Gail is a credible interlocutor. Are we supposed to immediately reject what she says about Ellie? I'm convinced we aren't, but I'm less certain where we should be on the spectrum between Gail-tells-the-absolute-truth and Gail-is-insightful-but-ultimately-mistaken.

At the end of 2x01, I was convinced that Gail is a somewhat dysfunctional person whose professional ethics were left back in some QZ in the early 2000s, but that she's also a gifted and insightful therapist. I thought what she did with Joel was more calculated than she let on, that it took both compassion and GUTS (that flinch when he suddenly stood, woof), and that she came within a whisker of getting him to open up.

Let's assume for now I wasn't just wildly incorrect!

I was stoked to see Gail again in 2x03. Her interaction with Ellie at the hospital was pretty neutral—I was mostly just amused by the fact that Gail clearly knew Ellie was full of shit and Ellie clearly knew that she knew.

Then we got to the chat with Tommy and I got whiplash. I want to talk about three things: Gail's identification of Ellie as not lying but a liar, as an equal partner to Joel in the events of season 1, and as, like, biologically predetermined to violence (Gail, what the fuck) and thus beyond saving.

Ellie, the liar

Ellie lied to Gail in the hospital. She lied again in her speech during the town meeting. These are the sorts of lies people tell all the time: I'm not comfortable opening up to you, the therapist I didn't consent to see, so I'm going to fob you off with a little story about how everything's fine. I want a particular outcome in this political debate, so I'm going to craft an argument that's persuasive. These aren't lies intend to hurt. They're intended to protect Ellie from emotional pain. I haven't sat down to catalogue every lie Ellie tells in season 1, but I'm pretty sure they were almost all intended to protect her physical and emotional safety.

And Gail has to know this. To jump from what she's seen this season to Ellie is a liar is wild to me.

But there is one lie that Ellie is always telling. Her immunity. That's a secret she's keeping for her safety, but the danger of telling the truth is sort of abstract. Sure, it endangers her out there, but in Jackson? This is a safe community, where Ellie is building relationships and working towards everyone's security. She's close to key people in leadership positions, so they probably wouldn't immediately try to dissect her. And it's easy to think of scenarios in which her patrol partner gets hurt or killed because they were unaware that Ellie could survive a bite. (This isn't an argument that Ellie should disclose her immunity, just that there are material risks to others to not disclosing.)

So I think this is what we're supposed to take from Gail, here. She sees things others don't, we're told, and she sees this kind of foundational dishonesty in Ellie. I think we're supposed to think of Ellie's secret immunity as a corruption: something destroying Ellie's closest relationships and isolating her from everyone around her.

After all, we know that even after five years, Ellie is on the outskirts in Jackson. I'm not sure all of that marginalisation is down to homophobia (there's an uncomfortable parallel here between an immunity she hasn't "come out" about and her lesbianism, not great).

"I think they were walking side by side from the very start."

Fine, this is a nice line. It echoes the final shot of the credits. But this poetic turn of phrase is buttressed by what precedes it: Gail dismissing the role of nurture in shaping the personality in favour of biological determinism. It is an argument that Ellie's violence is in her blood: it's not that she was born into a post-apocalyptic hellscape, that she was raised in a military orphanage to be a soldier, that she went on a dangerous and life-changing cross-country road trip, or that she took that trip with a man who was good at violence. It's in her blood.

This idea makes me really fucking mad! This show exists in a social context, which we all bring to watching it, and the real-world implications of the logics at play here are awful. First, the suggestion that she and Joel both had the same amount of agency in season 1. She was a child, Gail! Real she might be fourteen, but she was soooo mature for her age vibes. Gross.

And second, if violence is an inherent genetic legacy, we're about two steps away from eugenics and race science. Ellie is white, so the racial implications of Gail's position are a bit obscured for a white audience (we're the default, after all! /s). But imagine for a moment how this line would have felt if said about, say, a Black character.

Okay. It's problematic. Putting that aside, why would Gail say it and why would Mazin write it? I'll come back to Gail at the end. As for Mazin, I think a similar thing is happening here as with the Ellie-is-a-liar thing. From 1x09, "Look for the Light":

Marlene: Our doctor… he thinks that the cordyceps in Ellie has grown with her since birth. [...] It produces a kind of chemical messenger. It makes normal cordyceps think that she’s cordyceps. It’s why she’s immune.

There is cordyceps inside Ellie. It's in her blood. I think, once again, Gail is seeing what others can't, but she doesn't have the necessary information to understand what she's seeing. She sees a darkness in Ellie, but doesn't realise that darkness comes from the fungus. It's not inherent to Ellie.

From 1x08, "When We are in Need":

David: ... You see a lot. So do I. And you know what I see when I look at you? Me. You remind me of me. You’re a natural leader, you’re smart… loyal. Violent. Ellie: You don’t know anything about me. David: But I do. If I let you out of that cage right now, put that knife of yours in your hand, you’d stick me in a second. You have a violent heart. And I should know. I’ve always had a violent heart. And I struggled with it for a long time. But then the world ended and I was shown the truth. Ellie: Right… by God. David: No. By Cordyceps. What does Cordyceps do? Is it evil? No. It’s fruitful. It multiplies. It feeds and protects its children, and it secures its future with violence, if it must. It loves.

I think Mazin and Druckmann are driving at something here. In the game, Ellie's immunity is sort of irrelevant to her arc. It kickstarts the plot, yes, and it provides a reason for Joel to take away all her agency and then lie to her about it. It allows her to survive when Riley didn't, thus piling on a bunch of survivor's guilt. But all the same plot and character beats could have been reached other ways.

In the show, I think her immunity—and especially the fact that the immunity comes from being infected—is important. The cordyceps inside her is going to be fundamental to who Ellie is and who she becomes.

Some people just can't be saved

Pretty much everything I just said about the nature vs nurture stuff.

I did see someone on here—I'm sorry, I can't remember who—suggest that Gail is saying that some people have to save themselves, and can't be helped because they won't accept that help. That's true, and it squares nicely with Ellie's arc in the game. I'm not sure it squares with everything else Gail says in this scene, in which she displays no compassion for Ellie and basically writes her off as an inherently bad person. I think maybe this is another case of Gail accidentally saying the truth while meaning something else.

So why, Gail? Why?

A thing that struck me: In Gail's therapy session with Joel, we see how angry she is at him, how much she hates him for killing Eugene. But even so, she had compassion for him. She promised to help him. When she spoke to Tommy, I didn't see an ounce of compassion for Ellie. It was a really hostile, angry, judgemental way to speak about a young, traumatised woman that she's only therapised for like five minutes. Maybe Gail just has a gift for projecting compassion she doesn't feel when she's actually in session with a client, or maybe there's something we're missing.

Gail's back in episode 6, and she's bringing Eugene with her (Joe Pantoliano!). I think that episode's going to recontextualise this scene between Tommy and Gail. Maybe Ellie was involved in whatever happened to Eugene? Perhaps something she did or failed to do led to Eugene's infection, or at least that's Gail's perception, and Joel did what Ellie's actions caused him to have to do?

Or, you know, maybe Gail just fucking sucks.

Finally, a conclusion?!

I've speculated above about what Mazin and Druckmann are potentially driving at with Ellie's arc. I think there's also some interesting parallels happening here: between Gail, Abby, and Ellie; Joel and Eugene; David and Gail. Between Gail's confrontation with Joel and Ellie's eventual confrontation with Abby. In the immortal words of Billy Ray Cyrus, much to think about.

I'm interested in the choice to make Gail a therapist. Psychology is a field with an incredibly troubled history and it continues to do plenty of harm. Young women (like Ellie) with neurodivergence and/or complex mental health issues have historically been misdiagnosed at high rates with borderline personality disorder, which is very stigmatised and, like all personality disorders, often used as an excuse to write a person off as beyond help and inherently abusive and dishonest (sound familiar?).

But I think a lot of casual viewers would just read Gail as a mental health expert and thus a reliable commentator on other people. Last season, the only person to provide this sort of read on Ellie was David, a blatant villain. This season, we hear it from somebody pretty likeable, presumably insightful, trusted by both Joel and Tommy. It's an interesting choice, regardless of whether Ellie's arc ultimately confirms or denies what Gail says.

Much to think about.

#the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou spoilers #gail tlou #ellie williams #tlou meta

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lunarriviera · 11 hours ago

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so here's what i can't stop thinking about tonight [spoilers for jitd ep 15, and mo du too, probably], bc somehow my brain is still snagged on scenes from a whole week ago. ofc we all flipped our shit, and rightly so, about how insane they were for this, inserting an entire afterlife sequence that takes up fully a third of the episode just to demonstrate that in fact gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day—all instead of having luo wenzhou say one single incriminating line ("he's my lover") and then hork into a garbage can.

but i'm stuck somewhere else tonight, and it's on: "i'm so tired."

fei du doesn't even need to say it. look at his face, these are the lineaments of someone exhausted to paper thinness. but what i keep putting together and taking apart in my head, though, is precisely why he's so tired. and somehow that just makes it so much worse.

because as lwz will say to him later, in one of the extras, he was never worried about whether fei du could outsmart anyone he wanted to. we already know he's stunningly intelligent, we've seen him thinking dozens of moves ahead of everyone else, constantly, from the time he was a child. that's actually not the exhausting part. it's not even his master plan, his long con, the entire-life-as-undercover-operation that's taking a toll on him—or not that, per se; not that qua that. think of the scene in episode 14 when he and luo wenzhou are interrogating zhou huaijin, and fei du tells him: dong xiaoqing may be a killer, but she was just the weapon—don't you want to know who was holding the knife? fei du's whole life purpose has been bent towards uncovering the people with the knife in their hands.

so if it's not his brilliance that's being taxed, or his capacity for plans that stretch over a lifetime, what precisely has made him so tired?

my answer varies, but tonight i think it's two different things, and the first of them is this one: he's unbelievably lonely.

[major spoilers from this point.] even during the long years when fei chengyu tortured him and his mother, she was still there. she was at least allowed to read to him every night (although even that was carefully circumscribed, and she spent most of the time trying to inculcate him with furtive ethical messaging, so he wouldn't be lost). he is able to remember her nursing him when he was ill, but remotely, coldly, as if anything caring or gentle, even eye contact or unnecessary touch, might be punished (and probably would have been). still, he had her. they were together; he wasn't alone in hell.

even after her death, of course, there was tao ran, and it's completely understandable that young fei du would have adhered to him, as thoughtful and sweet-tempered and normal as tao ran is. where lwz can be sharp-tongued and brusque, tao ran is always pouring oil on troubled waters, adding tact and kindness to a situation. in the novel, lwz tells teenaged fei du bluntly, during an outing, "you shouldn't be here, you don't fit in," and fei du smiles: "he didn't want to fit in."

i think when you're a teenager, you can probably tell yourself that, and almost believe it, especially when you've been violently trained the way he was: told repeatedly that you're antisocial, you don't need human connection, you don't crave it, you don't even want it—that kind of sentimental idiocy is for stupid people, people beneath you.

fei du not only internalized that belief, but he's had to behave as though it were true. to play the edgelord playboy with icy purity and, most of all, complete success—since partial success is failure, in this case—no one can get to know you well enough to know what you're really up to. he might have enjoyed some parts of the game; he's to a degree risk-taking, thrill-seeking by nature (as well as, again, by brutal psychological experimental conditioning). the motorcycle/car racing, the epic performative partying, the dissipated indifference, clawing his way to the top of his father's corporation—as the novel says "a beast in human clothing," the "domineering director-general"? sure, some of it might have been fun, or at least distracting. being superb at anything is its own keen pleasure, if you're smart enough.

but later luo wenzhou will have observed fei du from close-up enough to realize that it's all a disguise. and it's one that costs him dearly.

and that's the other thing that's worn him out, i think. first there's the loneliness of carrying it by yourself, having not one other person in the world to know your heavy secrets, the weight of your isolation, because telling anyone the truth would risk dragging them down with you; but there's also the fatigue from just having to keep it up, day after day, getting up every morning and pinning a manipulative disguise onto your face. if parts of the charade were ever stimulating, or even thrilling, that patina of charm has worn off. he just wants a warm bowl of congee and to go to bed on time, like a person, now.

because since fei chengyu's accident, fei du has spent most of his adult life around normal, non-sinister human beings. he thinks he can just mimic their behavior; he doesn't realize he's actually chosen to adopt it as his own. i'm so sorry to tell you this, feishir, but in many ways your genius plan to successfully impersonate a monster has, in fact, failed. you're actually just a regular young adult. you're too kind to strangers. you're far too careful and considerate with grief-stricken old ladies and frightened children—you're even about to pet your cat, and remember what it means to stroke a small warm animal with no purpose other than affection, only wanting it to feel safety and pleasure (and feeling those yourself, in return). abject failure to become an amoral soulless ghoul, president fei; your satanic dad really blew it (which is ofc fei du's other purpose in life: to prove fcy wrong, though he goes about it in the most agonizing way possible).

and then, worst of all, fei du started flirting with luo wenzhou, which probably started as something amusing to do while waiting around for tao ran; but it's become oddly addictive, needling lwz while feeling increasingly curious about how he'll respond. and then—gradually, slowly, as in "slowly the ice age ended"—luo wenzhou, too, has become a trusted, reliable source of safety and pleasure, and rare human connection. fei du, in fact, has started to like him.

but liking him is, he also knows, incredibly dangerous. he thinks he can't have that, not any of it, at this point. if lwz finds out even one of his horrific secrets, and then gets involved, it could all be ruined.

so fei du is alone, and he really doesn't like his job anymore. but he can't quit, and he can't let anyone else into the aloneness. of course he's tired. anyone would be tired, even ruthlessly self-controlled geniuses who tell themselves constantly how sinister they are.

and that's probably a third thing that's worn him down: the unending effort of continually repeating to himself that he's inhuman, he's made wrong, he's broken. fei du doesn't realize this habitual attempt at reinforcing fei chengyu's training has never made it any more true, but what is happening is that it's ineluctably starting to fray him, shred him at the edges. keeping attachment at bay, holding back from your own natural instincts to be close to others, to share your confidences with them, to know and be known? pretending not only that you don't like anyone, but that you aren't even capable of liking?

the cultural critic joyce carol oates wrote once, in an essay on the poet sylvia plath, of this kind of self-hatred: "in art, it can lead to silence; in life, to suicide." and that's precisely what we see fei du choosing here, to be honest (and we can talk some other time about the ways in which fei du's ma has turned sinister in his unconscious: a death-bringer in white, sitting on her funeral bier, inviting him to give up on the arduousness and self-loathing and loneliness of his life).

in the novel luo wenzhou tells tao ran in the emergency waiting room: “when other people get brought in there, they have someone waiting outside. if he doesn’t have anyone, i’m afraid he’ll be broken-hearted and won’t be willing to come back.” tao ran can't believe he's hearing lwz, of all people, say this about fei du, of all people—but in the drama, this is made literal: lwz turns out to be right. if it weren't for his being there, urgently wanting fei du alive and around to give him problems and cause him trouble, wanting him healthy and condescending and annoying, making sarcastic remarks and smiling his irritating peach-blossom smile and just generally being a royal pain in luo wenzhou's ass—if it weren't for luo wenzhou's need for him having become so suddenly, unexpectedly overwhelming that it's literally palpable, fei du's tiredness would have won out.

fortunately, as it is, he's going home now, where he can actually rest in reality, not just in the afterlife. the secrets are coming out, one by one. he won't be alone anymore, and he won't have to keep up the role of lead villain, slain by his own hand at the end of the play. and, if or when he forgets and falls back into old habits, luo wenzhou will be there to fuss at him and whack him on the back of the head, force-feed him vegetables, blow-dry his hair, make him wear long underwear, handcuff him to the bed to sleep, provide him with new parents and a pair of cats—and above all, love him so consistently and so fiercely that there's no room anymore for anything but simple contentment, and sanity, and quiet peace.

#justice in the dark #mo du #silent reading #jitd spoilers #luo wenzhou #fei du #默读 #光源 #jitd meta #jitd #zhoudu

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sereia4skz · 7 hours ago

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Hello love congratulations on getting to 1k!!! The stories have been so good so far & wanted to know could we get some fox hybrid!Jeongin? Possible him being a fucking tease & gets reader close to cumin with his big hands because he’s caught her staring at his hands one too many times, only for him to leave reader to “finish on their own.

But you know add some things that add up to that? Idk just an idea🥰

1k Followers Event | c'est vraiment trop injuste

pairing: fox!Jeongin x reader

genre: smut

warnings: edging, noona!reader, hands kink

event masterlist: #1kShootingStars

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

Hi baby!

Your fox boy seems like an evil little menace

Xoxo, Reia

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

The sun had just set, soft lilac hues bleeding into the corners of the curtains blowing in the winds. You were finally alone, sort of. You’d heard rustling in the hallway earlier, a telltale sign of Jeongin slinking around, probably up to something. You didn’t think much of it until your doorknob turned with the faintest click.

Then came the soft swish of a tail brushing against the doorframe.

“Innie?” you started, but were cut off by the soft creak of your mattress dipping behind you.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. His presence was a quiet heat at your back, radiating mischief. You turned just in time to see his sly grin, those golden eyes glinting with something you knew meant trouble.

“I saw you staring again, during dinner” he murmured, voice thick and low like molasses as his hand came up to prop his head lazily. “At these.” He held one hand in front of your face, slowly flexing his fingers, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Your breath hitched.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” he chuckled. “Every time I grab a drink, reach past you on the couch... the way you press your thighs together.” His head tilted. “You’re not very subtle.”

Your face burned, lips parting with a sharp retort, but Jeongin was already shifting behind you, dragging you gently down between his parted legs, back resting against his chest.

He wrapped one hand loosely around your throat, light, suggestive pressure. Just enough to make your heart skip. The other slipped beneath the hem of your sleep shorts, fingers slow and warm as they teased their way down to where you needed him most.

“No whining,” he murmured against your ear, lips brushing your skin. “Be good and let me feel how wet you get from just my hands.”

His fingers slide between your folds, already slick with need, Jeongin chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your back as he presses a kiss just below your ear. "So wet already? And I barely touched you."

Two fingers stroke over your entrance, slow and unhurried, collecting your slick before he gently eases them inside. You gasp, he’s thick, his fingers long and confident as they press into the second knuckle. The way he fills you, curling up just enough to graze that sweet, spongy spot, it’s infuriatingly precise, like he’s memorized every twitch and breath you make.

“God, you clamp down on me so hard,” he mutters, nipping at your jawline. “You like this, huh? My fingers buried in your needy little cunt while you sit here and take it?”

The heel of his palm rubs against your mound while his thumb draws smooth, torturous circles over your clit. It’s lazy, teasing, his strokes deep and slow, dragging pleasure out until you’re squirming, hips tilting to chase his rhythm.

Then he adds a third finger without warning. Your mouth falls open in a gasp as he stretches you wider, the burns delicious as he scissors them slowly, making room, making you feel just how much he can take from you without even needing his cock.

“You’re so easy for me,” he whispered. “All it takes is this.” He lifted the hand around your throat just enough to brush his knuckles against your lips. “You should see your face right now."

Your eyes pricked with heat. Everything felt like too much, his voice, his scent, the way his fingers kept you on edge but never let you tip over.

“Innie, I-I’m–”

“Oh?” His hand stopped moving.

You let out a desperate whine, body trembling with how close you’d been. But Jeongin just laughed, low and sharp, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

Then–

“Y/N? You in there?” Felix’s voice rang out from the hallway.

Your heart stuttered.

Jeongin smirked against your neck. “Looks like someone needs you.”

“Innie–”

He slipped his fingers out, slowly, deliberately, leaving you dripping and empty.

“You should go,” he said with a wicked glint in his eye, licking your wetness off his fingers. “Or maybe beg Felix to help you finish. Or maybe finish on your own, noona.”

You turned to glare at him, wide-eyed and breathless, lips trembling with frustration.

“Mean little fox,” you hissed.

He leaned in, brushing your messy hair back with faux innocence. And then he was gone, tail flicking as he slipped out your door with all the satisfaction of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

You sat there, panting and ruined, thighs shaking, soaked through and still desperate.

Ass.

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0

#1kshootingstars #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin #stray kids smut #stray kids hybrid au #stray kids

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lauracantsleep · 3 days ago

Text

Drive.

Synopsys: Truth be told, he didn't think twice before springing into action. Trouble would come, it always would. They were sitting in the eye of the storm, and he had to make sure that someone would be there to care for Lena. Certainly, it wouldn't be Baz. With Smurf in jail, Pope was all she had.

A/N: posted this on ao3 a few days ago and figured I could share it here as well. season two pope broke my heart, completely shattered it - so obviously I decided to write about it lol. it has been over a decade that I've written fiction with the intention to share, so bear with me. english is not my first language and this wasn't beta-read. also this is not a x reader/oc fic, more like a tiny character study.

set during 2.12 | 1 .4k words | ao3

╰✧˖°°.☾.˖✧･ﾟ･⋆.｡.˖･ﾟ･✧˖.☾.°°˖✧˖°°.☾.˖✧･ﾟ･⋆.｡.˖･ﾟ･✧˖.☾.°°˖✧╮

Maybe he wasn't the best option for her. There's nothing in his life that could assure him that the man he sees in the mirror would be a good father, but he loves her — of that he is sure of. More than her own father does, as much as it pains him to admit it. But not more than her mother did.

Pope's head feels heavy, like his brain is too compressed inside his skull. It wants to get out, he wants to get out, but there isn't a way. It's how he's felt for years now, maybe his whole life, if he were to be honest. He doesn't know — Pope doesn't feel like he knows much these days.

Gripping the sides of the sink, his head falls. Arms straining under a lavender shirt as he breathes in and out. Pope doesn't particularly enjoy looking in the mirror, doesn't do it often, because why would he? He knows what he looks like, there's no need for a reminder. The mirror shows him what he already knows. The hollows under his eyes a testament to all the things he can't undo. There’s a fracture in him, a crack that never healed right. Or maybe he just wasn't born right - he considers that every now and then.

Everything is a blur, all the things that could have been his, but aren't. His wife, his daughter, his home. All thrown away, life moving on without him during his years inside, doing time alone.

"Uncle Pope?" Pope raises his head with a sharp inhale, finding in the mirror a small figure holding onto the door frame behind him. Half in the hall, half here with him.

Lena watches him with cautious eyes — much too cautious for someone her age, he notes. Her voice is but a whisper. She's been quiet lately — a result of living with his brother, who made for a less-than-ideal father.

"Hey," his voice quieter than usual, still hoarse from screaming into his pillow during the night. He couldn't sleep. "Did you finish packing?" Pope turns around, moving towards her. Lena looks up at him and nods, seeming unsure as to what to do now. "Good girl, Lena."

If there's any pain in his body, and not just the ever-present mess in his head, he doesn't feel it now. Not with Lena looking up at him, so fragile. She looks just like her mother, he sees it all the time. The resemblance kills a part of him everyday. A shot to the heart, lack of oxygen. Suffocating inside his own self. Catherine raised a beautiful girl. His girl. Pope opens his mouth but the words don't come, not at first, lodged in his throat. As they stare into one another, this is one of the moments when he wishes he knew what to say. Wishes that the right words would come. Something that could make things better. Something to prove to her that he would fix everything (but that would be a lie).

"Are we going to Disney?"

"No. No, not to Disney." The words come out with a struggle, but as softly as ever with her. It's only with her that he can be this way. He used to speak to Catherine like this too, when they were young. And then when they were adults, when Baz wasn't around. It happened a lot once his mother started training him. "But we are going someplace nice, alright."

When he reaches out, his hand hovers, adjusting, hesitating. Pope touches her the way you’d touch a bruise — barely there, all weight held back. No grabbing. No claiming. Nothing like her.

But then his palm settles on top of her head, stiff at first before softly patting it once, twice. Lena is not afraid of him, she looks at him with trust, knowing he'll be there to check for monsters under the bed, to take her to school and be there on time to pick her up. His fingers loosen, threading carefully through her hair — just as soft as her mother’s. The realization hits him like a punch to the throat. For a moment, it's harder to breathe, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his thumb brushes her temple, once, a silent apology for everything she’s lost, twice, a promise to do better.

Lena gives him another nod, lips sealed. Pope exhales through his nose. He’ll have to work on that, undo all the damage his brother had done.

"Is Mommy gonna be there?"

His throat moves, feeling tighter. He swallows hard, like he’s testing the gentleness of his voice before letting it out. Words don’t come easy to him, but for her, he tries. "No, mommy is not gonna be there, Lena. But she wished she could be there with us. It's what she would have wanted."

Another lie. He can't seem to stop. A part of him believes that it's because she's too young, fragile, innocent. He can't exactly tell her that her mother is dead and worse, by his hands. No, he can't do that. Maybe someday she will know, and when that day comes, she will hate him. Pope knows that. But until then, he is gonna give her a chance at a life. Something his mother didn't do for him, something he stopped Catherine from doing when she had the chance.

"Okay", her voice comes as a whisper.

Lena doesn't cry. She hasn't cried in a while, save for the nightmares. He's there for her when she wakes up in the middle of the night, afraid of a bad dream. 'It's the man, I can hear him outside', she told him once. Pope knows exactly what she's talking about. He doesn't need to close his eyes to remember her voice, calling for Catherine from the car while he dug the grave to bury her mother in.

Monster, the voice inside his head screams.

Yeah, he's aware.

By the time they leave, the house is bare of anything that matters. Chair still in the hallway from when he was guarding her door, after giving up on sleep. Toys and clothes are packed in a suitcase and Lena's backpack. Pictures of her and Catherine. Some with Baz and Smurf. Anything else is replaceable.

Andrew has his shades on as he closes the trunk, dark lenses hiding whatever flickers behind his eyes as he scans the street. Inside, a final packed gym bag sits beside a suitcase — closed all the way, all zippers to the same side. Another black gym bag is there, though the inside stores no clothing. He barely glances at it. His cut. Lena is strapped to her child seat in the back of the car — something nondescript, the kind of car you wouldn't look at twice, just until they're clear to buy a new one somewhere his family can't trace.

The door slams shut as she reaches for the green case on the seat next to her — a new tablet, something to keep her occupied. Andrew adjusts the mirror as he gets into the driver's seat, making sure he sees her. She seems okay, he tells himself. It could be worse. It's his mess, it's his ruin, but he won't let it touch her.

They hit the road with the California sun setting behind them. His old phone is thrown out the window. A cartoon in Spanish is playing from the tablet, the silly and loud noises taking over the interior, but he doesn't mind. Lena's a child, she's meant to be loud. Those headphones are no good for her. There are studies about that. And about all those hours she's been spending glued to a screen. Yeah, she doesn't need that. He'll get her some books when they're home, new crayons — the good shit, not that crap he used to colour with Julia — and stuffed animals to keep her entertained. He saw a play kitchen at the mall — maybe she could open a restaurant. The shadow of what could have been the beginning of a smile brushes past his lips.

He would give her a new life.

Truth be told, he didn't think twice before springing into action. Trouble would come, it always would. They were sitting in the eye of the storm, and he had to make sure that someone would be there to care for Lena. Certainly, it wouldn't be Baz. Half the time he forgot he had a daughter. With Smurf in jail, Andrew was all she had.

Maybe he wasn't the best option for her. Maybe he could never love her more than her mother did, but Andrew loved Catherine, and he loves their daughter too. He'll love her for both of them. And no one would find them, no one would touch her, no one would get past him. It's just him and his daughter now.

Andrew and Lena.

(his fingers tap the steering wheel once, twice)

They'll be alright.

#andrew pope cody #animal kingdom #shawn hatosy

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call-me-strega · 3 days ago

Text

How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: chp. 7 (Interlude: Life According to Ellie)

first, prev, next, lore, ao3

~~~

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for a peak at the world through Ellie's eyes.

In which I take liberties with canon and give you a peak at Ellie's backstory.

~~~

Her earliest memories include floating.

Back when she couldn't open her eyes just yet and understand she was in a vat of liquid.

Those days are hazy. She doesn't remember much from them. Not that there was much to remember in the first place.

The most she has of that time are these cloudy impressions of a man's voice, disappointed and begrudging.

Awareness slowly crept into her, her mind filled with basic data copied over from her blueprint. Although she didn't know it at the time, her barely functioning mind wondered if that floating feeling was how it felt to fly.

She knows now that the freeing sensation of flying is not quite the same.

But a small part of her loves taking baths and going swimming. She likes to lean back, her ears submerged muffling the world, and her limbs slightly fanned out.

Sometimes, if she closes her eyes and slows her breath, she can call back that floating sensation from when everything was easy because she wasn't enough of a person to know how hard the world could be.

She remembers how nice he'd been at first.

He held her by the shoulders and gave her first name: Danielle.

He taught her everything she knew about the world: science, mechanics, ecto-biology, and all the things in her head she couldn't explain like NASA or school.

He told her place in the world: by his side. Her role was to be there for him. She was to support him, and in turn, he'd take care of her.

She was meant to be his family.

He said she was his daughter. Told her to call him dad.

And she did.

She believed it when he said he cared. She thought it was like those impressions of emotions that carried over from her blueprint. (A man who made mistakes, who was scary at times, but ultimately, who cared.)

In hindsight, maybe that's why it hurt so much when she realized it was a lie.

She remembers her intimate familiarity with death.

It was more than just a part of her nature. It was a constant presence.

She remembers how he used to invite her to help him in the lab. How he'd trust her to push buttons or hold important materials. She remembers how she watched helplessly as he spent countless nights in frustration, trying and failing again and again to create another clone.

A brother for her, he claimed.

She watched him face loss after loss. Growing increasingly desperate after each new attempt dissolved away in bubbles of green. The first time she'd seen it happen she'd felt sick to her stomach. She'd wanted to cry, but he had needed her more then. So she let him train her, get his frustrations out with a spar.

It would reassure him, he had said, if he could ensure she could protect herself. That she was stronger than her brothers. That she could beat anyone who got in his their way.

She remembers sitting in front of the cloning chambers after he'd gone back up for the night and finally crying. Letting herself silently grieve all the brothers she would never know.

Perhaps it was that frustration that led her to believe that the panic he had shown the first time she began destabilizing was genuine concern.

Perhaps that's why she believed him when he said the only way to save her was with DNA samples from her blueprint: Daniel.

Danielle remembers meeting Daniel, or rather Danny, for the first time. At first, he'd been confused, troubled, by her presence. But despite his frustrations, he was kind. He listened to her. They shared a kinship she'd only imagined having before with her brothers.

He gave her a nickname to match his own: Dani

She remembers thinking how he was everything.

Danny was her cure. Her blueprint. Her namesake. Her key to finally having a stable brother. The origin of all the thoughts and feelings she didn't quite understand. The embodiment of all that he had wanted her to be and a reminder of everything she wasn't.

And after being double-crossed and tossed aside, Danny somehow became even more.

Her "cousin".

Her savior.

Her liberator.

Her protector.

Perhaps one of the only two people in the world who genuinely cared for her at the time.

She remembers how much he cared. All the ways he tried to protect her.

The way he let her go.

Let her fly off into the night because he knew she needed to find herself. To be untethered. To experience the world and learn. To never be chained or used like that again because something deep within her would not allow it. He wanted her to stay but let her go.

She remembers his promise to always be there for her.

And she believed him.

She's glad she did.

Dani has memories of traveling the world.

Of exotic locales and exciting adventures.

She remembers the hunger and loneliness that came with independence. The nights she sought out shelter or aid and the cruelty of those who denied it to her. She remembers the faces of strangers who'd lean on each other because they had to but would leave in an instant for something better.

But she also remembers the joy of freedom. The kindness of strangers whose hearts were bigger than their budgets. Those who gave freely without expecting anything in return. Of families forged by experience who often offered her a place to return to.

She often turned them down. She already had a place to return to if she ever wished.

Danny reached out to check on her from time to time. So did Val and the others. They kept her updated. She remembers feeling a surging warmth in her chest each time they assured Dani they kept space for her in their lives.

She remembers visiting on the day they assigned her birthday (Danny's half birthday). She recalls getting a phone to stay in touch and a camera to take photos. She remembers getting hugs, and cake, and an offer to live with Jazz or Danny at one of their places.

She remembers feeling loved.

She remembers when she stopped hearing from Danny briefly. She decided to go back for a visit. To check on her family them.

She remembers that's when things changed.

She remembers being angry.

The Idiots in White had been bothering Danny for a while now. He'd been successfully avoiding them at every turn, undermining their operations, and keeping both civilians and ghosts safe. Ugh- why did these guys have to plague them so much?

She remembers being disappointed in herself.

How could she have let them get a jump on her? Those two-bit losers weren't good for much except destruction. Figures they'd resorted to ambushing her in a forest. Another thing she'd inherited from Danny was his inability to let things lie, so when she heard a cry from the forest she decided to check it out.

It had been a trap.

The wails had been from some poor ectopus they'd been torturing with a ghost trap. When she'd gone to free it, they jumped out and hit her from behind with their weapons. She recalls one of them saying they'd been hoping to catch Phantom, but she'd do. Through all her anger and annoyance a small part of her was relieved.

'At least Danny was safe' she remembered thinking.

When she woke up, Dani was in a small box of a containment unit that was keeping her in ghost form.

She remembers being scared.

She couldn't turn back. She was stuck. They refused to give her food. Dani was dead, they said. An ectoplasmic being that wasn't even truly sentient. What was the use of wasting food on her when she should be able to sustain herself with ectoplasm?

But she's not a full ghost.

Heck- she's not even a proper halfa!

She's a clone, a Mirrorborn.

She can't generate enough ecto without supplemental energy from an outside source. Usually, that'd be food, another ecto-entity, heck even a particularly ecto-dense area like Amity. But she didn't have any of those things right now.

She only had herself.

She remembers cursing her faulty biology. Danny wouldn't have these problems, nor would any full ghost. Staying in her ghost form ate up her energy faster than she could create ectoplasm to sustain herself while trapped in this cell. She couldn't even use her powers to try and escape it would drain her too fast. At this rate she'd- she'd destabilize again.

She remembered trying to reassure herself. Val knew she had been coming, she'd know something was up when Dani didn't check in. She'd tell the others. Her family Danny and his friends would come looking for her.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked herself, the way she used to on those nights alone in the lab, muttering to herself that they would come.

She remembers growing weaker. Feeling sluggish and heavy as her body began to droop. Her sagging skin turned gray and green as she slowly lost sensation in her limbs. Then, just as the panic and despair began to set in, she heard the alarms and loud crashes.

She remembers the surge of emotion that coursed through her as voices approached. Two unknowns, one that belonged to him, and one more.

She remembers the flood of relief she felt.

It was Danny.

He had come for her. He'd teamed up with whoever he needed to in order to come get her. He was there.

She remembered his voice: Hard with an icy rage, trembling with fear for her, yet confident and reassuring, telling her it would be alright.

She had believed him.

Perhaps that's why even as his eyes grew wild, even as he desperately called her name Dani? Dani! Danielle, come on! Keep your eyes open! Just keep them open Dani- please! Please, Dani! DANIELLE! ELLIE! she still let her eyes fall closed.

Because she trusted him.

She remembers thinking how, even with an ice core, Danny's arms were so warm.

She remembers trying to reach out a melting hand, her destabilization only partially slowed thanks to ecto-dejecto, to caress his cheek. Using the last of her energy to pry her eyes open and give him her patented mischievous smile. She had tried to comfort him.

Dani remembers her last words to him: "Thank you."

Thank you for coming. Thank you for being so warm. Thank you for crying for me. Thank you for caring.

Thank you.

For allowing Dani's last moments to be filled with love.

Danny held a small orb weakly glowing a pale blue color. He clutched it to his torso as tears burned down his skin like acid. He phased the orb into his chest, nestling it close to his heart. He turned in a feral rage towards the agents rushing up behind him. His grief-filled eyes were glowing a toxic green. His canines elongated into fangs that curled into a snarl. His aching hands willed his gloves to become gauntlets that accommodated piercingly sharp claws. His aura grew cold enough to burn. He tilted his head back(this wasn't the first time he'd done it). He took a deep breath, (and he'd do it a thousand more for her). And then, Phantom Wailed.

She doesn't remember retreating into her core.

But she does remember being inside of it.

She remembers calloused hands that held her close.

She remembers a gentle voice singing her lullabies.

She remembers soft lips that kiss her carefully.

She remembers a familiar warm embrace, their cores vibrating in harmony.

She remembers the whispers that give her her next name: Ellie.

She's Ellie now.

She slowly grew stronger and she remembered all the things Dani knew. She looked over her knowledge and memories and then thought back to the man who cared for her so diligently. Maybe Dani hadn't known. Or maybe she had and had been scared to acknowledge it.

But she was Ellie now.

Dani knew that Danny could be scary. That Danny made mistakes. That Danny tried to be there for her in whatever ways he could. That he undeniably cared for her.

And as Ellie mulled over this knowledge, she came to a conclusion.

'This,' she realized. 'This is what a real father is like.'

And when she had finally regained enough strength to emerge from her core, albeit with her mind and body now matching the age of her core, the first thing she did was seek him.

The first word she spoke as Ellie, her arms out stretched toward him, unmistakable glee in her voice, had been,

"Daddy!"

Danny held her the young girl who'd called out to him. She was so small. Smaller than she'd been before. Her mind was younger too. But, Danny? He was older now. He had some money now. He had independence from his parents and had reliable allies, both in the Realms and in the mortal plane now. So as he held this young girl in his arms, one who reach for him and called him her daddy, he made a resolution. 'This time,' he promised himself. 'This time I'll take care of you.'

Ellie's father had a lot to do even after she woke up. She stayed with Frosty in the Far Frozen while he, Sammy, Tuck, Jazz, and Val dealt with some legal matters in the mortal plane.

Ellie would sometimes get visitors, like the young-old boy-man who smelled like ozone and the old guy with the smokey aura that helped her dad rescue her. When she was a little better her father would take her with him. Sometimes they'd go back to Amity, other times he'd leave her with a sitter while he was off doing some sort of research. She spent time learning about the realms with them. Pandy, Dora, Frosty, and Clockpa were her favorites.

Then one day her dad introduced her to a new ghost, someone she'd never met before.

She was a Neverborn.

A City Spirit.

She was a tall woman. Her hair was an inky black bob that just brushed the string of pearls around her neck. Her skin was a splattery mix of black and white. She wore leather armor around her chest with a bat emblazoned on it. Attached to her shoulders was a short asymmetric cape that's right side ended near her thigh while the left stopped just below her hip. On her lower half, she wore a black sheath skirt with a slit in the side coming just above her knee. It's fabric had a slight multicolored sheen to it, almost reminiscent of an oil spill or a crow's feathers. These were joined at her hips by an art deco belt of interlocking diamonds attached to a buckle with a beautiful geometric design, that had numerous firearms attached to it. In her hands, she held a pike, one longer than Pandora's xyston spear. Her aura was one that was old and well acquainted with misery, yet she felt almost motherly.

She introduced herself as Lady Gotham and offered them tea.

Dad explained that he wanted them to live in Lady Gotham's city. Gotham was rich in both ectoplasm and magic, which would help sustain her even when did wasn't around. Her aura was near ancient and could mask theirs for at least a decade or two. She could protect them, hide them. She could offer them a safe place to live their lives.

She told them her qualifications. She was a well-established spirit in the realms with centuries of experience governing her haunt and exerting power over the mortal plane while still in the Realms. She had layers of protections, including a reputation most mortals wouldn't dare trifle with. Additionally, she had several Knights protecting her mortal haunt, all of varying liminality. Her greatest pride resting in one of the legends Ellie had grown fond of. (Ghosts were prolific storytellers and notorious gossips.)

The tale of Gotham's Red Prince was well known within the realms. One of her knights, whom she loved like a son, resurrected a revenant. As an Avenger. Gotham's claim on him was the strongest among her knights and her love for him was just as great. Many a denizen of the realms has heard of his drive to avenge the unavenged, to bring justice and peace. Many admire him greatly. In fact, Ellie's pretty sure Sidney and GW are part of his fan club.

Danny had also done his own research on the city, he explained to her. Once he had deemed it acceptable and shared his findings with the others. After receiving a seal of approval from the rest of Team Phantom he had come to her.

It would be her home too, her dad said. She deserved a say in it.

Ellie looked back at Lady Gotham once. Then, at the research and photos. And then, she looked back to her dad and nodded.

She believed Gotham could become a home, she told him.

Ellie remembers that the first few days were hectic.

Dad was running around like a headless chicken trying to get everything in order. They went shopping, Dad got his job, they moved in with help from Auntie Jazz and Uncle Tuck. Auntie Sammy and Auntie Val couldn't leave Amity unprotected so only the two of them had been there. Auntie Jazz had helped Dad organize and Uncle Tuck set up their documents and security system. They both had to go back after a few days though, each having their own respective internships to get back to.

Ellie was happy though. She got her own room, she already made friends with a nice girl named Sasha, and the air here tasted a bit spicy with all the magic and ecto mixing together.

It was nice. She and her dad finally felt normal.

Ellie remembers meeting Jason for the first time.

They'd been living in Gotham for about a week so far. Daddy was on the phone, talking to him, while trying to open the door when they both sense an ecto-entity enter the hall. A prominent aura filled the hall. It's presence was commanding, but it felt comforting too like fire and wood smoke. It held a sense of rightness and Ellie could tell it was probably whatever ecto-entity had claimed the Haunt nearby.

She looked down the hall and her eyes met a pair of blue-green eyes. She looked curiously at the man, quickly realizing he was at the center of the aura that fluctuated with emotion in reaction to her dad's conversation.

A revenant, she concluded. A tad surprised they had run into one so quickly.

And then they kept running into him.

And Ellie couldn't help but think he was pretty great.

Jason always made yummy food for them. He was strong and picked her up easily. He always listened when she was talking and even asked questions. He played with her and read to her and made her feel better when she was sad.

Ellie remembered the day her dad had collapsed and how scared she'd been. She remembers the scary look on his face when he had come to get them. But he wanted to help, he had come. So she called him her uncle, that way Sasha's mom would let him through. She remembers how he'd taken them home and looked after her and her dad. She remembers feeling something warm grow in her chest as he awkwardly agreed to her claims that she'd move in with him.

She remembers how he sat next to her in the hall the day she locked herself out. How he comforted her and told her about the mistakes he made too. It had made her feel better. If someone as cool and nice as Jason made mistakes, then maybe it was okay. Maybe she wasn't a failure.

Now, as Ellie lays in her bed, she thinks back to tonight. She thinks about the gift Jason gave her.

Maybe he thought it was just a pencil case but to Ellie it was proof.

Proof of how nice Jason was. Proof he listened and knew she liked aircrafts. Proof he thought of them even when they weren't around. Proof the he cared. Cared enough to do something like this without needing to be asked.

She smiled into her pillow and thought back to her dad's smile. Recently she noticed the different smiles she barely saw before making their way onto her dad's face. She saw them a lot more now when Jason was around. If Jason made her dad happy, then she was glad to keep seeing more of him. She was happy to be able to claim him as family.

She clutched her blanket tight, and she allowed herself to drift off, thinking that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't mind if one day she could call him something other than her uncle.

~~~

That all for now folks! No pressing notices but please feel free to hit me up in the comments. I welcome feedback and constructive criticism!

#dc x dp #dp x dc #how to become a step-dad #hbsd #HBSD #dead on main #ellie fenton #kid ellie #ellie-centric chapter #interlude #whats in a name #ellie has had a lot of names #jason todd #danny fenton

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