#it really looked exactly like an old people guest room

[kil9]

i had a dream i was on this huge like life threatening adventure quest and all i wanted from it was a hershey's peppermint bark bar

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x singlemom!reader. In the aftermath of your apartment flooding, Sukuna makes you a deal that is too good to pass up. You don't fully know what you're agreeing to, but if you did would it have really changed anything? Reader POV

cw: Sukuna may seem like just a nice guy stepping up but really he's a red flag you're just too tired to see. It's hinted reader has not been treated well in the past but no specifics.

You hadn't known what to do when you woke up to the sound of rushing water. You had acted on instinct and grabbed your daughter from the room next to yours and stood in the kitchen, calling your landlord from the number on your lease to no avail. Your daughter was starting to get fussy and after the fourth attempt with no answer, you felt lost.

Your ex hadn't exactly been the reliable type and he probably would have just contributed by cursing and complaining about shitty landlords and even shittier affordable housing but that wouldn't have helped then and thinking about it wasn't helping you now. Single, alone with your daughter who was growing more disgruntled by the minute.

You hated to even consider but, there was someone who you kept coming back to that you thought could help.

Sukuna.

The tattooed man across the hallway hadn't struck you as the friendly type, but he had proved you wrong in the few months since you moved in. He looked like the type of guy you would cross the street to avoid, but he always had time to stop and talk to you when he saw you. He also always made it a point to say hello to your daughter and listen to her rambles, even when they didn't make sense to you.

Your other neighbors had warned you about him. Stories that included threats and assaults you just couldn't connect to the man who had taken you and your daughter to the aquarium when your piece of shit ex bailed on you both, again.

You had googled him afterwards and what you saw was pages and pages that included things like attempted, suspected and scarier words like murder, hospitalized and other things that just didn't fit with the man you were still getting to know.

The water was still falling and once your daughter started waking up, you called it and went over to the maybe scary man across the hall, who never scared you.

Within ten minutes, you found yourself in Sukuna's guest room while he stayed behind at your apartment to figure everything out. When was the last time someone told you, "I got it." You were always the responsible one. You were the mom friend, the girlfriend people liked to introduce to their parents. You had basically parented yourself!

But now, there was someone who told you that, "I got it."

So who could blame you for going along with what came next. When the next morning came and Sukuna told you that your super had come too late and the apartment was damage and you couldn't stop yourself from putting your head in your hands as your daughter happily munched on the pancakes he had made you both.

"What am I going to do," you groaned and you couldn't help but lean in when Sukuna placed his hand on your cheek.

"He said he would put you up in a hotel until it can be fixed," he said gently and you sighed. You envisioned the next several months in some shitty motel with no kitchen, sharing a lumpy bed with your two year-old, disrupting the routines you had been trying so hard to build as a single mom. No more afternoon trips to the park that was less than a block away. No more feeding the ducks with your leftover veggies or sharing pick up duties with the other moms at the daycare by your work.

"This sucks, I don't want to have to build my life all over again." And you really didn't. This was so frustrating and over what, a little water damage?

"Well," Sukuna started and he tilted your head so you were looking at him. "I do have the guest room. You could move some of your stuff over here and camp out until it's fixed. Pocket the hotel money, use it for something for the kid."

"Oh, I couldn't impose on you like that-"

"I wouldn't offer if it was an imposition," he said, his eyes glinting and for just a second you could see a little of the danger your neighbors had told you about, but then it was gone and he was leaning over you to take another pancake from the serving tray and putting it on your daughter's empty plate.

"It's not just for you, I would-I would feel a lot better knowing the both of you were taken care of. I doubt the hotel that-" he cut off looking over at your daughter, "you know is putting you up in is going to be the safest place for the two of you."

You couldn't believe you were considering it but you were so tired. You felt like life had just become a series of less than ideal circumstances you were forced to deal with just because you didn't want to settle for the wrong guy or give your daughter less than she deserved.

"I would pay rent," you said and he looked ready to argue but you held up your hand. He smiled, amused and gestured go on. "Just until they can fix the apartment and if we get to be too much tell me. We can tough it out in a hotel. We've dealt with worse," you added and he frowned before nodding.

"Deal." He turned to look at your daughter and smiled. "You hear that bug, you and mommy are moving in." Your daughter giggled and clapped her syrup covered hands.

"Temporarily," you reminded him and he smiled at you.

"Right, let's go grab the stuff you'll need while you're here temporarily." He went grabbed a towel and wiped your daughters hands while she kept laughing and chanting "move in, move in!"

Is it your fault that you didn't know that your circumstances were anything but temporary?

[p0orbaby]

Could you do a blurb for alexia and reader and their daughters first bday? so fluffy it rottens my teeth

-

You’re standing in the kitchen, staring at the cake. It’s a two-tier monstrosity with pink icing and miniature elephants, because apparently, your daughter loves elephants. This is an assumption since she’s only one and her favourite activity seems to be slamming her tiny fists against the table and screaming at the Peppa Pig theme song. You glance over at Alexia, who’s meticulously arranging balloons into some sort of Pinterest-inspired arch. It’s tragic, really, because the balloons are deflating faster than her patience.

“You know she won’t remember any of this, right?” you say, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching her struggle with a particularly rebellious balloon.

Alexia doesn’t look up. “It’s not for her,” she mutters, teeth gritted, “it’s for us. And the photos. For the grandparents. You know”

You do know. The grandparents, who’ll scrutinise every detail, subtly implying that the cake should’ve been homemade and the balloons should’ve been organic or something. You glance at the clock. Two hours until the guests arrive. Two hours until you’re knee-deep in small talk with people you barely tolerate, discussing the milestones of babies that are all the same. They roll over, they laugh, they scream, and then they eat something they shouldn’t.

Speaking of, the baby—your baby—is currently sitting in her high chair, aggressively smearing mashed banana across her face like it’s avant-garde war paint. You sigh. At least she’s quiet for once. There’s a moment of eerie calm, like you’re in the eye of a storm. It won’t last. You sip your coffee, which is lukewarm and bitter, and stare at the pile of gifts in the corner of the room.

“Why do people insist on wrapping things for a one-year-old?” you ask, more to yourself than Alexia. “She’s going to eat the paper. And cry. In that order”

Alexia finally gives up on the balloon arch. “You’re right,” she says, walking over and inspecting the cake like it might explode. “But they want to feel like they contributed something. Everyone’s desperate to be relevant in a baby’s life”

You nod, because that’s exactly it. The party isn’t for the baby, or for you, or even Alexia. It’s for all these people who want to feel like they’ve done something. Like attending a one-year-old’s birthday party is some kind of moral achievement. A gold star for being a functional human.

The doorbell rings, far too early for guests, which means it’s probably your neighbour, Carol, who always shows up with unsolicited advice on baby care, as though she invented parenting. You open the door, and sure enough, it’s Carol, holding a gift bag that screams I bought this on sale at El Corte Inglés.

“Thought I’d come early to help,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan the room, resting on the cake. “Oh, you didn’t make it yourself?”

“Bought it,” you say, deadpan. “From the shop. With money”

Carol doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even blink. “Ah, well, the important thing is she’ll enjoy it. At this age, it’s all about the memories”

You glance at your daughter, now vigorously attempting to fling the banana off her high chair.

“She won’t remember this,” you say, but Carol’s already unpacking her baby advice, Alexia’s gone back to fighting with the balloons, and you’re suddenly wondering why you didn’t just fake an illness and cancel the entire thing.

“Happy birthday,” you mutter, to no one in particular.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Got you some sheets,” you say as you enter the front room.  

Bucky pulls on the foldout frame and it catches, like it always does. It offers little resistance as he wrenches on it and unfurls with a metallic whine. The legs stamp on the floor and he stands straight. 

“Sorry, not tryna break the place,” he narrows his eyes at the stubborn piece of furniture. 

“Like I said, everything around here is old.” 

“So I fit right in, got it,” his brows flick. 

“Not exactly what I meant,” you set the stacks of sheets, a quilt, and a pillow on the mattress. “Need help?” 

“Think I can figure it out. You don’t do cot inspections, do you?” He asks. 

You hesitate before you realise he’s joking. 

“You got until 1900 hours to get that made up,” you try to kid back then immediately make a face. “You know what, ignore that. I’m gonna have a decaf. Need anything?” 

His cheek dimples and he shakes his head, “got more than enough.” 

He turns and moves the linens. You retreat quickly. You can’t believe you’re such a weirdo. You could blame the fact that you rarely have company and those people who do stop by are backwoods seniors, but he’s even older than them. In spirit, at least. 

You load the drip filter with decaf grinds and sit at the table as you wait. Your eyes skim the faded wallpaper. You remember when you were a kid and you’d come to visit Grandma. You’d sit and count the flowers as she baked a pie. It was the one place where you weren’t afraid. 

“Mind if I grab some water?” Bucky’s voice slices through the veil of nostalgia and you flinch. You sit up and cross your arms. 

“In the fridge,” you sniff and stand as the kettle starts to boil.  

You pour over the filter and wait for it to brew. Bucky opens a cupboard and takes out a glass. He’s quiet as he fills it and puts the jug back in the fridge. You stand at the counter awkwardly. 

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter and flee before he can answer. 

The adrenaline of his arrival has worn away. Your social battery is dying and you’re receding back into your usual introverted troll. You go down to the linen closet and take out a peachy towel, hand towel, and wash cloth. 

You come back down to the front room. He’s not there. You leave the armful on the bed. It’s neatly made; straight edges, not a wrinkle. You return to the kitchen and sniff as you fidget. 

“I left some towels on your bed, in case you need to wash up,” you toy with the zipper of your collar. “Tomorrow we can hit the grocery store in case you need anything. Soap or... whatever.” 

“Packed it. Got used to living out of a bag,” he assures you. 

“Fair,” you agree. 

You blow out through your lips and return to the counter. The mug is full. You dump the filter and rinse the pour-over lid. You put it in the rack and pick up the cup. You stare into the dark brew as if you might just dive in and hope to drown. 

“Hey, look,” he says, “don’t worry about keeping me up or nothing. I don’t really sleep so...” 

“Yeah,” you swallow. “I... I do my work here. That’s my desk,” you point to the table. “I got headphone though.” 

“Right, I can stay out of the way,” he shows a palm. “Kinda my whole thing. In and out without being seen.” 

You look at him. He’s right but the context is not so funny. The thought of what he’s done makes you little leery. 

“I’ll let you enjoy your coffee. Could stand to stretch out after the ride up.” 

He takes his glass and heads for the door, tapping the frame with his fingers before he passes through. It’s a bit reassuring that he’s just as awkward. You guess it will be like that until you get used to each other. You really hope Sam doesn’t leave him up here long enough for you to be used to each other. 

You pick up the mug and quietly shuffle out. You keep your eyes down the hallway as you go to your room. You close yourself in, careful not to shut the door too heavily, and go to your bed. You put the cup on the night stand and sigh. 

Sam is going to get an earful, once your signal comes in. He really just dropped this grown man on you like you’re some sort of boarding house. As much as he did for you, this seems like a little much. Well, he’s never been very good at knowing the limit. 

You get up and change into a loose pair of pajama pants and a cozy sleep shirt. The nights get colder as the season passes. Fall won’t stave off the frost much longer. 

Maybe that will drive him away. This country isn’t exactly famous for its hospitable weather. The scenery might be nice and some of the people, but there’s not much else. Not unless you enjoy the wildlife. The crows, the squirrels, the chipmunks, wild hares, and groundhogs. Then there’s the more deadly ones; coyotes, bears, and moose.  

You really don’t think Sam thought any of this out. After all, who wants to be in Canada. Especially someone like Bucky. Someone who’s been all around the world, who lived in one of liveliest cities on the planet. This bodunk town in the north is going to bore him right back to his own country. 

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #61 Part 4

Danny woke up to a stream of sunlight on his face. The room was just as rich as he remembered, he stood up and stretched a bit before he heard a knock at the door.

It was Alfred bringing him a change of clothes, “Breakfast is ready, Master Danny. You can find the dining room down the hall to the left.” the old butler smiled at him. 

“You don’t have to call me Master, Alfred, I’m not your Damian.” Danny said, turning around to address him.

“Ah, yes, however you are still Master Bruce’s son, even from another world.” The butler gave him a cheeky smile.

Danny shrugged and headed to the bathroom to get changed. Once he was decent again, he headed down to the dining room. 

The room was just as fancy as the rest of the house with a chandelier and ornate vases. 

Danny noticed Damian and a few others already seated at the table. Damian wore what Danny could only assume was his rich kid school uniform. He sat across from Damian who made a small ‘Tt’ and turned away from him. 

Next to Damian was Tim who put away his laptop once Danny sat down. Tim was wearing a business suit, a dark red colored one. “Ah, you sleep much longer than Damian does, you must have been tired.” Tim smiled at him.

Also seated at the table and wearing a navy blue suit, was Bruce himself. He was drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

“Stop comparing me to him, Drake, I’m nothing like this imposter.” Looks like Damian still thought he was a clone. 

Whatever, he shrugged it off and filled his plate. 

“I don’t really have a lot of free time,” was all Danny said before he started eating.

Tim kind of watched him for a minute, he looked kind of shocked for a second, “You’re eating meat??” 

Ah so that was another difference between them, “again, I’m Danny, I’m not Damian.”

Damian scoffed, “So that’s what you call yourself, imposter.”

Danny gave Damian a tired sigh, looks like the him of this universe was a lot more prideful than he was. Danny went through way too much to carry the same, dying and being crown prince of the infinite realms wasn’t exactly something he was born into. Danny was a bit jealous if he was being honest with himself. 

“Damian, please at least attempt to be friendly. Danny is our guest for the meantime.” Bruce said, putting his newspaper down. He then turned his attention to Danny, “I know it isn’t ideal but I think it’ll be best for you to stay here until we can get you to your own world. I’m planning a trip to the Watchtower tomorrow so I can speak with some of my colleagues about the situation.” 

Danny sighed but nodded his head, “I get it, you can’t have two of us running around.”

“Quite, you’re more than welcome to go around the mansion and the grounds, I’d also like to invite you along to the Watchtower but we’d need to come up with a disguise for you, secret identity and everything.” Bruce continued after taking another sip from his mug, “Alfred will still take you out today to get some basic necessities for you. We’ll get you a proper disguise so you're able to go with him.”

Danny nodded again and continued eating. He thought things over as he ate, he technically had a disguise they could use for the Watchtower but Danny was still on the fence on what exactly he’d tell everyone here.

It wasn’t exactly an easy conversation to have, thankfully some more people arrived for breakfast.

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[buckgasms]

Hi, I have been absolutely loving your blog, mostly the Daddy!Bucky & Princess stories (but let’s be honest who doesn’t love Bucky 🥰😂!) and I was wondering about something..

I had my birthday recently and was wondering how the 2 of them would celebrate? U can make it as fluffy or smutty as u would like, and it’s okay if it takes a while for u to write, I have one every year so it will be close enough to each of them 😉

Keep up the good work and I cant wait to see more of your stories and imagination come to life 🥰

First of all @nicoline1998enilocin I am so sorry! This request is so old it's probably almost your birthday again 🫣 but I kept it in my inbox because I really love it and I wanted to do it justice, which hopefully is done for you today.

And also, happy birthday 🎂🎈 thank you for preempting my uselessness and for sending in a lovely ask!

So let's start with Bucky's birthday:

- You try your absolute best to wake up first so you can give him birthday head but I feel like he would also be happy at waking you up too.

- Either way it's an X-rated morning lol.

- You managed to sneak out of his arms long enough to rush out to the kitchen and grab the pretty cakes you made the day before.

- He appears in the living room to find you sitting amongst his presents, a little cupcake and a candle lighting up your pretty face.

- Kneeling down he looks at you for a moment before blowing out his candle. He cups your cheek in a warm hand and pulls you in for a kiss.

- I'm not sure what you'd get for a criminal CEO who has everything but you manage to get him some lovely gifts.

- Stationery is always good, and some books. Maybe a nice watch? Shirts? Sunglasses?

- Plus you have a few little bags filled with pretty lingerie and toys that you figured he would enjoy.

- The present unwrapping ends with him cuddling you and kissing you all over, snuggling up as he thanks you for all the wonderful gifts.

- But you are the best gift he's ever had.

- I feel like there would also be an unspoken agreement that any time the birthday boy wants to have his princess, he gets her.

- Doesn't matter where you are, or what's happening. He just grabs you, pins you down or presses you up against a wall and takes what's his.

- Without knowing when it's happening you spend the day in a state of giddy excitement and desire.

🎂

- Daddy is the kinda guy who does big parties, but actually hates them when they are happening.

- He spends a bit of time chatting to his friends, opening some gifts and eating delicious canapes, but his mind is preoccupied.

- Because of you.

- You have dressed up in a little pink dress that looks exactly like a ribbon on top of a present. And he wanted to unwrap you right then and there.

- And perhaps in fact you told him that he could? As a special birthday treat?

- He'd managed to resist so far, but now he just wants his pretty present.

- He sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around you, pressing kisses to your shoulder and neck. You giggle as he tugs gently at the end of the bow.

- Much to both of your surprises it falls off quite quickly and drops to the floor. Some of the guests notice and clap, as you giggle twirling around and pressing yourself into Bucky's chest.

- "Much better I must say" he mutters into your ear and brushes his nose along yours before stealing a kiss from you. He deepens it as your arms wrap around him, holding you close.

- People actually sigh and swoon.

- Maybe you dance a little or maybe he just waves his guests goodbye as you walk with him up the stairs to the bedroom.

🎂

Now let's talk about Princess' birthday:

- He wakes you up with kisses and surrounds you with presents on the bed.

- I also think he would get you a tiara because you are a Princess.

- All the presents are so perfect, he gets you all those little things that you have mentioned over the past few months.

- Maybe some nice jewellery, books, dresses, colouring books, a new phone? New supplies for arts and crafts? Teddy bears?

- Also he's taking you to Italy...

🎂

- He spends the day pampering you, pleasuring you and treating you like the princess that you are.

- I think he would take you out for lunch, but he'd make sure the whole restaurant was booked so you weren't disturbed.

- He's gonna fuck you right there as well because you look so beautiful and happy and he can't resist you.

- I think you have permission to come anytime you want on your birthday. All you have to do is say, "Daddddy" and bat your pretty eyelashes and he'll be there to make you feel all better.

🎂

- A similar party ensues, although probably a smaller crowd because you prefer it that way.

- You take your time opening presents, giving big hugs to all of the gifters and showing Daddy what you got.

- Despite a whole day of sex on tap, you still feel a hit desire for him. He just looks so divine and delicious.

- And he knows you are dying for him so he asks Natasha to give you your present as he drags you into his lap, pretty skirt of your dress covering your lap.

- You squeak as his hand slides up your thigh and into your underwear, rubbing and sliding into your soaked heat.

- "Just can't get enough can ya? I can feel how swollen and used this pretty cunt is Princess, and still you want more hmm? Such a good girl. God I'm so lucky..."

- His whispering all this filth in your ear as you unwrap your present. You do your absolute best to thank Natasha and focus on what she's brought you, but his fingers are curling and pressing into that magical spot inside that sends your brain into a fog.

- You basically stay like that until the party ends. Everyone gives you a birthday kiss before they leave and you smile and wave as they go.

- Leaning back on Bucky's chest you let out a little whine, as he continues to make a mess of you.

- "Ready for your last present?"

🎂

- Much like his birthday the evening will end with something very special.

- I think he'd purchase something really kinky for his birthday, and something even kinkier for yours 😂

- I also like the idea of it all being a bit silly. Like you have to sing happy birthday to him as he spanks you, and if you get distracted he starts again.

- Ooh what about those candles you can use in the bedroom?? He'd turn you into his little birthday cake, eating you out but you have to stay still otherwise you get wax on you?

- Or instead of a gag he puts a cupcake in your mouth and you have to hold it tight without eating it.

- Frosting.

- I feel like these would work for both your birthdays because let's face it, being Daddy's plaything is as much a treat for you as it is for him 💞

- But always ending in cuddles, a nice bath and a reminder of how much he loves his Princess, how his life is better with you, how lucky he is and how he wants every birthday, every day spent with you 💞

[chloe-skywalker]

Grown Up - Poe Dameron

Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 989

Summary: Han come’s back to find out his daughter is more of an adult than he thought.

Authors Note: I found this half written dialog under my bed on a scrap of paper and it had the original prompt for my story ( “oh kriff no!” - Han Solo ) and I realized after I wrote this that it felt familiar and thats because I already wrote it lol. So I changed it up some, gave it a new name, summary and ending.

Masterlist

STAR WARS Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“General. You wanted to see us.” Poe said as him and Y/n entered the bridge holding hands.

“Yes.” Leia turned to face them with a smile. “We have some guests landing in a few hours and I’d like the two of you to greet them.”

“No problem.” Poe nodded, it sounded easy enough.

“Who are they mom?” Y/n asked wondering if they needed to impress the people coming or not.

“You’ll see.” Leia smiled secretly, she knew exactly who was coming and she wanted to keep it a surprise to her daughter.

^     ^     ^

Later that day Poe and Y/n were heading to the hanger to greet their secret guests. Who must’ve gotten there early but the most shock of seeing their ship was which ship it ended up being.

“Daddy! Chewie!” Y/n yelled out in shock and excitement. She hadn’t seen them in years.

Chewiw roared out as he ran down the ramp and over to Y/n. Picking Y/n up tightly hugging her and he spun her in the air.

“Hey Fuzzball, let me hug my daughter will ya?” Han said from behind them.

“Hi Daddy.” Y/n laughed as Chewie put her down.

“Hey baby girl.” Han hugged her.

“How’ve you been?” Y/n asked once they pulled apart.

“Good. Good- you?” he nodded.

“Great.” Y/n smiled and looked back at Poe before introducing the two. “Oh dad, this is Poe Dameron.”

“Honor to meet you sir.” Poe stepped forward holding out his hand for a handshake.

“Liewise kid. We’ve heard of your reputation.” Han shook his hand after staring at him and his hand for a moment.

“Mom’s waiting for you in the command room.” Y/n spoke up sensing a tension building from her father.

“Roarrrr, Roaaar, Roooar.” Chewie pulled Y/n back into a hug.

Y/n laughed, hugging him back. “Yes Chewie, we’ll see each other later.”

“Bye Sweetheart.” Han said as he and Chewie headed off to find Leia.

“See you later dad.” Y/n waved at them as they left the hanger, her and Poe Left next to each other.

^     ^     ^

“Han.” Leia greeted turning to focus her attention on him as he entered the bridge.

“Leia.” Han smiled at him.

“How are you?” Leia asked as they stood right across from each other.

“Good, been good. Busy.” Hand nodded looking around before focusing back on her. “You? How’ve you been? It’s been awhile.” He wondered about her and how she’s been.

“I’ve been good. Busy as well.” She answered.

“Yeah, yeah I can see that.”

“What’d you think of your welcome?” Leia smiled, knowing he enjoyed seeing his daughter after so long.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. Not since…” Han nodded with a remaining smile.

“She’s grown into a fine young woman.” Leia stated as they turned and started to walk, leaving the bridge behind them.

“How old is she now? 20’s?” Han guessed.

“Yes. She’s in her early 20’s.” Leia confirmed.

“Have I really been gone that long?” Han looked at her with sadness in his eyes.

“You have.” She missed his expression with a grimace.

“I’m sorry.” he apologized.

“You’ve missed a lot.” Leia skipped over the apology.

“I have.” Han knew he missed a lot and he wished he would’ve done things differently.

“What’d you think of Poe?” Leia asked changing the sorrow subject to a lighter one.

“The pilot with her?” Han wanted to confirm who they were talking about.

“That's the one.”

“Seems like a nice guy. Heard his reputation.” He tells her but he also didn’t understand why she wanted to talk about this Poe.

“He’s my best pilot.” she stated.

“Hmmmhmm, from the stories I’ve heard of him I would figure. He seems like a good guy.” Han shrugged.

“He is. You can even ask your daughter.” She smiled at her indendo she knew it’d get his attention.

“Y/n?” What did his daughter have to do with this?

“Hmmm Hmmm.” Leia hummed with a nod of her head.

“Why?” Now he was suspicious.

“They're together.” Leia tells him, expecting what comes next.

“What?!” Han yelled.

“Don’t act all surprised Han. Like you said you haven’t been here and she’s an adult now. They’ve been together for a while.” She explains to him, giving him a stern look in her eyes.

“He’s also reckless! I’ve heard that about him to.” He grumbled now trying to think of all the negative things he’s heard of the shaggy haired pilot.

“So were you.” Lei pointed out in defense of her best pilot and daughter's lover.

“That's not the point.” Han scoffed.

“It has to do with it. Yes.” Leia stated stopping so they’d turn to face each other. “You may not like it. But that’s because you're her father. You're a good father even if you haven’t been there in awhile. You care, and because you care Han no ones ever going to be good enough for your little girl in your eyes. But I assure you Poe is. He’d die for her.”

Han thought over her words, knowing she was right. “I still don’t like it.” 

“I don’t expect you to right away.” Leia smiled at him coming around.

“Maybe I’ll stay around for a while.” He really did miss Leia and Y/n but he also needed to keep an eye on this Poe guy.

“You're welcome to as long as you don’t try to sabotage their relationship.” Leia laughed already knowing what he might plan later. When he looked down with squinted eyes Leia got serious. “Han I mean it.”

“Fine.” Han groaned out giving into her wishes for him to play nice.

“I’ll be watching you.” Leia stated letting him know she won’t let him ruin their daughter's relationship. At all.

“Yeah, yeah.” Han mumbled as they looked to the hanger, seeing their daughter and Poe laughing and chasing each other around his X-Wing.

Taglist: @padawancat97 @gruffle1

[enchantedlov3r]

Yes to daddy kink as Joel fucking dear reader clueless until he's successful into giving Ellie a sibling and he doesn't care how long it'll take. After all, we want to be his good girl, we want to give him our babies

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! that's exactly how I screamed when I saw this request. Beware, you may need a towel during your experience...mwah!

Can be found in my masterlist as: Bred and fed

joel was the man you simped for so badly. you weren't that old. mid 30's while joel was in his 50's.

ellie was young and she was like a daughter to you. she drifted towards you when joel and her made it to jackson.

you hung out at their house more often and you spent a lot of time with joel as well living the domestic life.

you started to crush on him. his texan accent, the way he carried himself and asserted dominance, the way he looked at you, his smile, his laugh, god- everything about him just made you gush.

especially those hot ass arms he had. he could choke you and throw you into a wall and you'd thank him and call him daddy.

you were always shy and innocent. you didn't learn what sex really was until you were about 20.

this disease infected apocalypse didn't turn you into a full bloodsheding killer but it did make you more reserved and cautious of your surroundings and the people around you.

what you failed to see was how intoxicated joel was by you. every single thought running through his brain was always you and ellie.

then he put pieces together. seeing you live this domestic life with him and ellie made him think.

what if he made you his and then fucked you until you were impregnated by him.

then he could finally give ellie a sibling to tell her stupid but silly jokes to. the more joel thought about it, the more he yearned and craved for you.

so, today he was finally going to have what was rightfully his. he walked into the kitchen after being in the bathroom to freshen up to see you already up and washing dishes.

you had slept over the night before and joel let you take his room while he slept in the guest room.

you liked the smell of his sheets, they smelled just like him. you were currently wearing one of his flanneled shirts buttoned up and some panties.

nothing more, nothing less. joel had given you some of his shorts but you chose panties instead.

his eyes widened when he quietly made his way to the kitchen to see your glorious figure standing there.

you looked like a goddess. how the sun shined on your face illuminating your skin tone. how you looked so happy and peaceful washing the few dishes in the skin from the night before.

"howdy." joel spoke out causing you to gasp and turn around. "jeez joel, you scared the crap outta me!" you exclaim.

"sorry ma'am, wasn't my intention." he responds, winking at you as you shyly smile at him.

"well how was your rest? good I hope?" you ask, a little guilty for taking his room.

"slept real good, what about you? I know my bed is real comfy." joel responds taking a few steps closer to you as he leans on the counter watching you was the remaining dishes.

"it was really comfy, thank you again joel! I am sorry to impose but I just like spending time with ellie, you know?" you express smiling at him as you put the last dish in the dishwasher.

"yea, and no need to apologize darling. you're always welcome and as a matter of fact, where is that kid?" joel addresses.

"oh, she left to go hang with dina and jesse but, I think she might be out longer cause she's going on patrol with jesse later." you answer his question while drying your hands and wiping down the counters.

"ah, ok. well, what are you doin' later hun?" he asks smiling down at you. your cheeks feel warmer and its not the heat.

you shy away and smile down at your feet. "I was planning on staying in your house a little longer if that's ok? just uhm-wanted to spend some time with you if you weren't too busy." you speak out with a small smile.

"mhmm. well I have an idea of some fun we can have." joel leans down closer to your ear. you gasp at the sudden closeness and the feeling of his breath fanning against your neck.

"what do you say to the idea of jogging your pretty ass up them stairs and laying on my bed for me ass up hmm? how's that sound babygirl?" joel whispered seductively in your ear. his texan accent going straight to your throbbing pussy.

you can't deny the idea nor the throbbing between your legs. joel really had a way with words and making you feel loads of butterflies dance in your tummy.

your eyes just couldn't meet his but, he grabs your chin and tilts your head upwards so your big cute doe eyes meets his. "I need a answer sweet pea." joel asks. you quickly nod at him and let out an 'mhm' and quickly scurry up the stairs.

he chuckles at your reaction before biting his lip and walking up the stairs after you.

when joel arrives in the room he sees your pretty ass up in the air and your glistening cunt. your arms stretched out in front of you while you whine out as the cool breeze hits your bare pussy.

"atta girl. your so good for me." joel says as he walks closer slapping your ass making you yelp out in surprise.

"you know, i've been thinkin baby, ellie's been needin' a sibling, and I wanna give 'er that. so why don't you let me breed you huh? give me a baby love?" joel asks unbuckling his belt and letting his pant's drop.

you whine and nod obediently. "words hun, I need words." he groans out as he runs his hard cock through your folds.

"mhm p-please put a baby in me joel, pretty please. I wanna give ellie a sibling."you cry out as he slowly slips his tip inside your aching wet hole.

"that's my good girl." joel says completely submerging himself inside you.

he groans in your ear when he has successfully inserted himself inside you. he wraps his strong bicep around your neck, you moan out at the feeling of his arm tightening around your throat.

your doe eyes going wide and your tongue hanging out as you moan joels name out loud.

joel lets you adjust and begins to thrust into you, grunting while he feels your tight walls squeeze his cock.

"fuck sweetheart, you squeezing me real good." joel groans as his thrusts pick up pace.

the whole bed is shaking and your screaming at this point, screaming in pleasure as the adrenaline courses through your veins and joels.

joel grunts and moans deeply in your ear as you egg him on with pleas of him giving you a baby. "come on joel, just give it to me. please."

"imma give it to you baby girl don't you worry your pretty little head. bambi." he groans into your ear.

you rub your arm towards your soaking pussy and rub your clit fast as you feel your high approaching, you just needed joel to take you to the edge.

"come on joel, make me cum, put a fucking baby in me pretty please!!!" you scream out as his cock hits your cervix.

"fuckfuckfuck! I'm gonna cum in this pretty pussy bambi. oh f-fuck!" joel groans out.

a couple more thrusts later and his seed is being spilled inside of you. nice and warm cum seeping into your stomach.

you moan as you cum with joel creaming around his cock as your high courses through you.

joel keeps his cock inside you just to make sure nothing seeps out, he wants to make sure that your chances of getting pregnant is high and accurate.

both of you heavily breathing, holding each other under the sheets with joels thick cock still inside you.

"gonna make sure nothing comes out. I want you full and pregnant with my kid." he whispers in your ear as he rubs your stomach.

Taglist: @raynesbandaids

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 5

Chapter summary: You and Joel have a much needed conversation to try and fix things, key word “try.”

A/N: Hi hellooo it’s hidden embers Wednesday (BETTER LATE THAN NEVER). Writing this story is genuinely bringing me so much joy, I’m glad you guys are enjoying reading it as much as i am enjoying creating this world. If you haven’t figured it out yet, this story is much more about the plot than it is about smut or fluff, so if that’s what you’re here for, you’re gonna have to be patient (it’s gonna be worth it i promise!!) Again, tysm for the support on this, the comments make me so so happy and motivate me to keep writing this, much appreciated 🤍

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no use of y/n, no sarah, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Slow burn, a tiny bit of angst, Mean!Joel if you squint

Series masterlist

You’re in a shit mood. Have been for a while, though you refuse to dig too deep to pinpoint when it started. It might’ve been around the time Joel kicked you out of his house, but honestly, it’s inconsequential.

The point is, your mood’s been sour for the past week, and this stupid boot you have to wear for your sprained ankle isn’t helping. What really pisses you off is the doctor saying that if you hadn’t walked on it, it’d be a grade 1 sprain instead of a grade 2.

‘Cause what the fuck does he know about why you refused that car ride home? What does he know about the churning, boiling anger twisting in your gut every time you hear the name Joel Miller? And then, to make it all worse, he had to recommend two weeks of bed rest so your ankle could heal properly and as fast as possible. Safe to say that doctor isn’t exactly on your list of favorite people right now.

On top of that, your mother’s been parading you around like a prized pony all week, forcing you to sit through those never-ending pageant meetings she insists on holding at the house. It’s like she’s playing the role of a doting, concerned mother in front of her friends, fussing over you as if you’re some fragile doll. Which is funny because you’ve told her on multiple occasions you’d rather stay in bed and rest your ankle than get dragged downstairs while on crutches, yet she insists on how rude it would be to not come greet the guests.

Thankfully, today’s a bit different. She’s gone out to scout venues for the pageant, leaving you in the care of your dad. Normally, you’d be relieved by that, but not today. Not when you overhear him on the phone inviting Joel over to watch the Cowboys game.

“Oh good, you’re up. Joel’s coming over,” your dad says with a grin as you make your way slowly towards the living room couch. “Figured we could all watch the game together. Like old times.”

You’re not a massive football fan, never have been, but watching the games with your dad was always something you enjoyed. It was your thing. Now, the thought of sharing that time with Joel makes your blood boil. Sure, he’s been doing this with your dad way longer than you have, but the last thing you need this week is Joel sitting next to you like nothing happened, like the astronaut-looking boot immobilizing your foot isn’t a constant reminder of why the injury got so bad in the first place. He might not be at fault for you walking all the way back home, but he’s certainly to blame for making you angry enough to do it.

The tightening knot in your chest isn’t just about what happened—though that certainly adds fuel to the fire—it’s about the mess of emotions you’ve been grappling with ever since. You’ve always prided yourself on being mature, on handling things with a level head and a clear mind. You’re the one who’s got it all together, the one people turn to when they need advice or a shoulder to lean on. But when it comes to Joel, all that goes out the window. You find yourself acting in a way you never have, even as a teenager.

You hate that you care this much, that his actions affect you so deeply, and that you can’t just brush it off like you do with everything else. You hate that what he is doing —the sudden coldness and firm boundaries— are probably the right thing for him to do. Hell, you even respect him for it, in a twisted way. He’s keeping a polite distance from his best friend's daughter, and it makes it that much more pathetic that it upsets you so much. His rejection, no matter how justified, still stings like a slap to the face, and the way he went about it, so abrupt and dismissive, only adds salt to the wound.

But it’s more than just anger at him. It’s anger at yourself, too. For feeling this way. For letting it get to you. For wanting something that you know you shouldn’t, something that feels wrong on so many levels. You can’t help but feel a creeping sense of shame, like you’re betraying the version of yourself that you’ve always tried to be—strong, independent, unshakeable. And yet, here you are, feeling small and foolish because of a man’s mixed signals.

You’re used to being in control of your emotions, but this? This is new, uncharted territory, and you don’t know how to navigate it without crashing and burning. So, you do the only thing you can think of: you shut down. You sweep all those feelings under the rug, acting like nothing happened and doing your absolute best to avoid Joel as much as possible. Because if you can’t be the strong, composed woman you’ve always tried to be, you can at least be the one in control of this situation, even if it’s just on the surface.

“I don’t know, Dad,” you start, trying to keep your voice casual. “I’m not really feeling up to it today. Maybe you two could just watch it without me?”

He gives you a look, that ‘puppy left on on the side of the road’ look he always uses to get you to do whatever he wants. “C’mon, sweetheart. It’ll be fun. Besides, you’ve been cooped up all week. You need a little excitement.”

Excitement is the opposite of what you need right now. Maybe a day of peace and quiet would fix every single issue in your life, but there’s no arguing with him, not when he’s already so excited about it. So, you force a smile and nod. “Alright, I’ll watch.”

But as soon as you hear Joel’s truck pull up in the driveway, that forced smile slips off your face. When he walks through the door, it takes every ounce of willpower not to roll your eyes. He’s all smiles, greeting your dad with a hearty handshake, but when his gaze lands on you, it’s different. There’s a flicker of something—concern, maybe something else—but you don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.

“Hey, kid,” he says, all casual-like, as if nothing ever happened.

“Joel,” you reply, your tone clipped, arms crossed as you turn back to the TV.

Your dad, oblivious as always, doesn’t notice the tension crackling in the air between you and Joel. He’s already settling into his recliner on your right, meaning Joel will have to sit to your left on the couch. You try to muster up the polite Southern girl your parents raised you to be, but your patience is thinning by the second, and you feel like a time bomb ticking away.

You do your best to ignore him. The game’s playing on the TV but your mind is far from focused on it. Your dad seems deep into it though, and for a second, you almost think Joel is, too. But then, out of nowhere, you feel his eyes on you.

“Didn’t think Presscott had it in him this season,” Joel says casually, trying to draw you in. His voice is low, familiar. He’s not even looking at you directly, just tossing the comment out there like he’s fishing for an easy reply.

You shrug without taking your eyes off the screen. “Guess we’ll see.”

The silence that follows isn’t comfortable, nothing like the ones you two have shared before. Even though you know you’re being short with him, you can’t stop yourself. It’s easier to keep things shallow, to avoid any real conversation, because if you let him in—if you let the words flow—the dam will break, and you’re not ready for that. Not here. Not with your dad in the room.

Joel doesn’t give up, though. “I remember last season your dad nearly threw the remote through the TV” he says, chuckling softly. “Thought he was gonna lose it when they botched that fourth-quarter drive.”

He’s trying to be light, trying to break the tension, but it grates on you. You force a laugh, but it’s hollow. “Yeah. Funny.”

You glance over at him, just briefly, and catch the way his brow furrows. It’s like he’s trying to gauge where you’re at, trying to figure out how to soften you up —the reason why he's so interested in doing so right now is beyond you. You can see the conflict there, the way he’s holding back—just like you are—but neither of you is willing to be the first to crack.

“How’s the um…” Joel starts again, voice softer now, “how’s the ankle? Healing alright?”

It’s such a simple question, but it feels like a loaded one. You swallow hard, the anger bubbling up in your chest. “Just peachy.” you say through gritted teeth, still not looking at him. “Let’s watch the game.”

Joel shifts beside you. You can feel him trying, can sense the struggle in him to connect in some way, but you won’t give him the satisfaction. Not after the week you’ve had, not after the way he’s been messing with your head.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, and you almost think he’s given up—until he tries again. “Look, I know we haven’t talked since—” he starts, but you cut him off with a sharp shake of your head.

“Drop it, Joel,” you mutter, so low your dad can’t hear. You still don’t meet his eyes. “Not now.”

Joel lets out a breath, and you feel the tension between you tighten, like a rope pulling tighter and tighter with every second that passes. He falls silent again, and for a while, the only sounds in the room are the commentators on the TV and your dad’s occasional cheers or groans at the game.

But it doesn’t feel over. The conversation, the tension, the unsaid words—it’s all still there, simmering beneath the surface, and you know it’s only a matter of time before something gives.

At halftime, your dad stands up to stretch his legs. You’re almost relieved when he breaks the silence, muttering something about his age. Joel laughs stiffly before replying with a quiet “Ditto.”

“I ran into Maryanne the other day, you know, the one from down the street. She was askin’ after you.” your dad says, grinning like it’s nothing. “Wanted to know if you ever got her message. You planning on callin’ her back?”

Joel hesitates, and you catch the slight shift in his posture from the corner of your eye. Your dad’s words hang in the air like a loaded gun, and suddenly, the room feels too small, too stifling.

Your stomach twists. Without thinking, you stand up abruptly, ignoring the sharp pang in your ankle as you do. “I need some air,” you mutter, voice clipped.

“Hey! Use the crutches kid, doctor said you still need ‘em.” Your dad calls after you.

“I’m fine dad, I’ll be out for just a second.” you don’t bother looking back as you make long strides towards the door.

You make it to the porch, the cool air doing little to calm the storm raging inside you. You lean against the railing, gripping it so hard your knuckles turn white. You’re furious—furious at him, at yourself, at this whole damn situation. How did you let it get this far? How did you let Joel Miller, of all people, get under your skin like this?

Minutes pass before you hear the door creak open behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is. You can feel his presence, heavy and familiar. He’s quiet as he steps out onto the porch, giving you a little space, like he knows better than to push his luck right now. You only hear him setting the crutches up against the railing, next to where you stand.

“You alright?” he asks, his voice rougher now, not as soft as it was earlier. There’s a wariness to it, like he’s testing the waters, unsure of how far he can go.

You don’t turn to look at him. “Let’s not do this.”

“Do what?”

“Acting like you care while I act like I don’t.”

He shifts behind you, and you can hear the hesitation in his breath before he responds. “I do.”

You huff out a bitter laugh. “Funny way of showing it.”

He doesn’t answer right away, and you hate how the silence stretches between you, filling the space with all the things you’re not saying. Finally, he steps closer, but not too close—just enough that you can feel his presence at your back.

“I’m sorry for last week. It wasn’t right, I was… in a mood. Had nothing to do with you.” The lie is heavy on his lips, you can tell even though you haven’t known him long enough to figure out all his tells.

“Seems like it had a lot to do with me, couldn’t wait to get me out of there.” You’re being petty, you know. But he’s pushing you and you can only be patient for so long.

“Don't be like that…”

“So, how’s the whole gardening thing working out for you?” you press him, pumping the brattiness up a notch.

He stares at you, a glimmer of frustration rising in his eyes. “'Bout as well as ignoring doctor’s orders to rest your ankle, I’d imagine.”

You narrow your eyes at him, resisting the urge to snap back. “I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he mutters, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You’re real good at takin’ care of yourself.”

Your jaw tightens, but you keep your voice steady. “I don’t need someone to babysit me.”

“That what you think I’m doin’?” He steps a little closer, his voice dropping lower, almost challenging. “Babysittin’?”

You look away, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to hold. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Joel. One minute you’re... I don’t even know, and the next you’re pushing me away.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Maybe I’m just tryin’ to do the right thing.”

“By keeping me at arms length?” you ask, finally turning to look at him again. There’s a vulnerability in your voice that you hate, but it slips out anyway.

“By not makin’ things harder than they need to be,” he says, his tone softening slightly, though there’s still a hint of frustration there.

You sigh, the fight draining out of you. “Yeah, well, it’s clearly not working out great.”

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with all the things neither of you is willing to say. But there’s a shift in the air, a slight easing of the tension that’s been coiling between you both.

“Look,” he says after a moment, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to… I just—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever half-assed apology he’s about to offer. “We’re fine.”

He nods, though you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. “Yeah. We’re fine.”

You both stand there for a few more seconds, the conversation lingering in the air like smoke, not fully dissipating but not choking you either.

“Guess we should head back in,” you finally say, breaking the silence. Your voice is calmer now, the anger simmering down to a low burn.

“Yeah,” he agrees, stepping back to give you space. “We should.”

You turn to head inside—using your crutches this time— and for a brief moment, your shoulder brushes against his. The contact is brief, almost accidental, but it sends a jolt through you. Neither of you acknowledges it, but the feeling lingers as you walk back into the house.

As you settle back into the living room, there’s still an odd tension between you, something unspoken that neither of you wants to touch. The game is back on, and you both pretend to watch, but your thoughts are elsewhere, circling around everything that was just said—and everything that wasn’t.

It’s not perfect, and it’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s better than before. The air is clearer, if only slightly, and though the weird vibes linger, you both settle into a truce of sorts.

For now, it’ll have to be enough.

Tag list: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee , @wintersquirrel , @chyannealaniz , @spiderman-n-n, @ghostofzion , @sjc7542 , @yyiikes , @pedrofan

[luveline]

jade to say i’m obsessed with eddie and roan is an understatement. can we see r walk in on eddie and roan having a tea party and the fun that follows - tysm ily!!!

thank you for your request my love! dad!eddie x fem!reader

You're so used to coming home to Eddie in the kitchen that his not being there actually makes you nervous. The feeling doesn't last very long —you can hear him laughing in the living room.

You close the door quietly and slip out of your shoes. You hang your coat and bag on the bannister of the stairs and walk the short distance to the living room door, immediately laying eyes on your very favourite people in the whole world. 

When Eddie and Roan first moved in with you, you gave away your coffee table to make room for some of her toys. Eddie was horrified at first: you were moving in together, and it was scary, and you knew he was scared of you changing your mind, so he hated how many changes you made. The child proof locks on the cleaning supplies cabinet, the new kitchen table with enough seats for all of you, the improvement of your guest bedroom into a princess paradise of silk sheets and fairy lights for Ro. The thing that scared him most of all was the coffee table, worried you were cutting things out of your life for them, worried you would resent him for that. 

You have yet to feel any such emotion. You didn't even really like the coffee table, though that isn't the point. 

Roan's picnic table, painted pink you know by Eddie when she was maybe three years old, is flocked by mismatched chairs. There's a drum stool from a set of drums Eddie doesn't own, a pink and green plastic chair, and a regular wooden stool with a flower painted on the seat. Eddie sits on the flower stool, Roan sits on the pink and green chair like a throne, and the drum stool remains empty, though a Teddy has been propped up on the leg with a saucer in hand. 

"I need more sugar in mine," Eddie says, holding his cup out to Roan. 

She holds court. In her favourite turquoise princess dress that's getting much too small for her, the back button undone, and a plastic tiara you got for her when you barely knew her, Roan takes a little plastic spoon from the table and spoons imaginary sugar into Eddie's teacup. 

"Thanks, babe." 

"You're welcome." 

Eddie doesn't look nearly as royal. He's wearing sweatpants but no shirt on account of the insufferable hot weather, his tattoos always surprising despite having seen them hundreds and hundreds of times. 

There's his simple flock of bats, his demon puppeteer and its puppet on strings. There's the clock over his heart, hands pointing to the time his mother passed. That one shocked you the most, when he told you. He doesn't talk about his mom much. When he does, it's with the reverential adoration of a child who thinks the world was made by their parent, exactly how Roan speaks about Eddie when he's not around. 

And there's his R, for Roan, behind his ear. You can barely see it. You'd paid for it as a birthday present not that long ago, and ever since he's started wearing his hair back more and more, like he wants to show it off. He usually has his hair tied back at work anyways, and the heat today is stickying. 

He’s shirtless but wearing socks, you realise. What a weirdo.

"We could have a real tea party," Eddie suggests. "I'm not busy. I can make some sandwiches and we can have sweet tea?" 

"Y/N will be home soon," she says, shaking her head. 

"She won't mind." 

"No, but she doesn't like sandwiches." 

"Who told you that?" 

"She says they're not big enough." 

"She means when you only eat one and nothing else for your lunch at school, babe. She wants you to eat the crackers and the cut fruit, too, so you're not hungry before you come home." 

Roan shrugs. Eddie shrugs back, laughing, and takes a pretend sip of tea. "Well, excuse me," he says against the lip of his teacup. 

"I like sandwiches," you say, finally breaking your cover. 

Eddie flinches bodily, not having known you were there, his saucer tumbling to the floor. Roan doesn't flinch but she does shout, "Woah!" and stands up from her chair. 

"Sorry, Eddie," you say with a laugh. "I didn't mean to scare you. Sandwiches can be such a spooky business." 

"Loser," he says, standing too. 

Roan climbs onto the couch and up over the back to get her after school hug. You receive her eagerly, her cool lengths of skirt and all her dark curls under your hands as familiar as her smell, baby shampoo, jelly bean body wash, and the pleased laughing sound she makes as she rubs her face against your neck. 

"You used to be so little," you say, propping your cheek on her temple. 

Eddie meets your eyes over her head and grimaces at you. "She's getting older every day." 

"We missed you a lot," Roan says. 

"You did? What for? It's only been a couple of hours." 

"Because we love you and we need you to have dinner." 

You laugh suddenly. It actually hurts, like a cough, "You just wanted me to come home so you could have dinner." 

"Not true," she says, sounding guilty. 

"You not feeding my girl?" you ask. 

"We had a whole bag of honey barbecue chips waiting!" Eddie denies, rounding the couch to kiss your cheek. "And they were awesome and we didn't save any for you. Suck it." 

"Mean." 

"Will you come and have a cup of tea?" Roan asks you, taking on a posh effect. 

"Oh, I'd be delighted," you croon in a bad proper accent. 

Roan beams, overjoyed, and bounces back down onto the couch. You sit down at her tea table as Eddie leaves for the kitchen, calling, "Two minutes, I'm making some sandwiches for my poor hungry offspring!" 

He returns with a plate of big sandwiches, another bag of chips, and a jug of sweet tea you'd been steeping in the fridge. Your stomach rumbles as soon as you set eyes on the food and Roan is the same: Eddie sets the sandwiches down between you, and you and Roan descend on them like piranhas scenting blood. 

He gathers the tea cups and the small teapot and takes them to the kitchen. They're damp when he brings them back and sits down, "Ready for tea," he says. "All clean." 

Eddie pours tea from the jug into the teapot and allows Roan the honour of pouring it into your cups. She's ecstatic. He's made her incredibly, overwhelmingly happy with such a small gesture, her little face contorted by the force of her smile. 

"For you, good sir," she says, lifting her teapot from Eddie's cup. 

"Thank you, madam," he says. 

She lifts her pert chin. "Of course, Mister Munson. Tea, lady?" she asks you. 

Your mouth is so full of sandwich you can barely speak. "Yes, please." 

She chuffs happily and fills your cup. Eddie leans across the table to tuck her wild hair behind her ears, all the gentleness of a devoted father but all the expertise of someone who's had to corral unruly curls for more than twenty years. 

"Please get off," she says. 

Eddie tucks his hands under his thighs, properly chastised. "Sorry, babe." 

"It's okay. Do you want chips?" 

"Not in my tea, right?" 

"No, dad, with your sandwich, duh."

"Duh," you echo. 

He reaches under the table to punch your thigh. You jump and ram your knee into the table, tea sloshing over the sides of your cups. Roan squeals in horror, while Eddie laughs and pinches you again.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

It’s Been A Long, Long Time 🥀 P.2 | Fallout AU

Masterlists | Part 1

Characters & Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x super soldier!reader (eventual romance), reader x male!oc (past romance), reader x Chester Phillips (past romance), Lucy Maclean (platonic)

Content warnings: Fallout x Marvel AU, profanity, major angst, fighting mentions of death, violence, war, age gap (reader is physically in her 40s, Cooper in his 50s, but they are both hundreds of years old), detailed description of a panic attack, cannon divergence, suggestive themes, strangers/enemies-to-friends-to-lovers | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6.7k

Premise: Having stumbled into an abandoned bunker that belonged to an agency dating back to the Second World War, Cooper and Lucy find themselves face-to-face with a woman of historical significance after accidently defrosting her cryogenic state. And when the horrifying truth is revealed, Cooper and Lucy rely on their expertise to combat a super soldier from killing them before the day is over.

Note: yeah this was intense and just full of angst I'm sorry, I promise in the next one there will be fluff!

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“Who the hell are you people?”

What exactly does one do when faced with a 345-year-old super soldier from World War II awakens from their frozen slumber. Face the truth? Or make a run for it? Honestly the pair were not sure. 

It was as if they were in the arctic circle with how the temperature dropped to below zero at that very moment. The silence so thick a knife could cut through. Suffocating to the point Lucy swallowed her saliva quite loudly just to break it. Her stance frozen under the now conscious super soldier’s gaze. A scrutinizing one enough to have even the strongest men running for the hills. 

Cooper had yet to rise from the chair, keeping a steady hand over his pistol while his back remained towards their guest. Although he felt her eyes on the back of his head, penetrating his skull. 

“Do not make me ask again,” Behind her strong Trans-Atlantic accent--sounding the exact same as it did on the tapes--Y/n’s tone was a mix of fear and anger. Lucy felt the chills run down her spine. “Who. Are. You?”

Lucy peered to Cooper, whose expression read, ‘answer her’. Clearing her throat, Lucy attempted to introduce herself but it all came out as a stutter. “Uhh-um, hello!” she winced, noticing Y/n take a more defensive stance, eyeing her appearance. “My name is Lucy--Lucy MacLean. And this is my….associate, Cooper Howard,” her hand lifted up, gesturing to Cooper who gave her an annoyed look, Y/n watching each move intently. She had yet to see the cowboy’s face. “We’re so sorry for waking you up! We came across this bunker and--.”

“MacLean,” Cooper warned, shutting Lucy up. The girl put her hand down and bit her lip, “Um, we are….we--.” This time Y/n cut her off.

“Where’s Peggy?” Her eyes searched the room, face paling as it hit her where she was. “And Chester? Howard….I need--I need to find them. I need to warn them!” She made a move to run and that’s when Cooper rose from his chair, pistol in hand and spinning to face the super soldier for the first time. 

It was like Y/n had stepped out of the TV. Donned in her black suit, the image of an eagle splayed across her chest. Shiny plates of metal on her arms that reflected light. Tactical boots and artillery belt, though she lacked any weapons. Whoever placed her in the pod must’ve stripped her of any means to defend herself if she woke. 

Like she’d really need a gun or knife. Her best weapon was the serum coursing through her veins. 

And unfortunately, Cooper was about to experience that.

The second their eyes met Y/n’s reaction was full of horror. But not for the reason Cooper believed, no. Poor Cooper was being mistaken for an old enemy, which unlucky for him, he resembled quite closely. Except he lacked the color red.

In a flash the desk was lifted off the ground, flinging in Cooper’s direction causing him to duck and cover while it met the chair. Lucy shrieked, hand cupping her mouth as the loud sound echoed off the walls. Y/n made a break for it then, running while Cooper hauled himself up to follow.

“Cooper, wait--!” 

As he entered the long and dim hallway Cooper raced toward the end where the main lobby was. He hadn’t heard the elevator shaft open, nor the echoing sound of it ascending to the surface, prompting the cowboy to draw his pistol. Coming to a halt, Cooper shifted his approach by deciding to slowly inch his way to the lobby. Believing Y/n lying in wait for another attack. So each time he got to a room Cooper staked it out. Clearing it before moving to the next. 

Lucy struggled to keep her cool, breathing heavily as she trailed closely behind Cooper. Aiming her tranquilizer gun in hopes of immobilizing Y/n but worried it’d do nothing like it did the Ghoul. Maybe it’ll at least slow her down. Giving them the chance to explain so she won’t kill them. 

As each room cleared Cooper’s grip tightened. Betting Y/n was waiting for him in the lobby. And right he was. 

The second his body was in view, Y/n shot out from the side giving no time for Cooper to react. Gun kicked from his hand, Cooper grunted as he was pushed into the wall, a crack in the drywall from the impact. Shoving Y/n off rather harshly, she stumbled back but recovered in time to dodge Cooper’s fist. Shooting her hand out to grab and redirect his arm, maneuvering her body behind his to kick the back of his knees and bring him to the floor. 

‘Damn that super soldier serum was no joke,’ Coop couldn’t help but think. Arm raising to dodge another attack before extending his foot to kick Y/n in the gut. 

“Please, if we can just explain!” Lucy shouted, pointing her gun frantically to get a clear shot, but struggled with how fast they were moving. Not wanting to accidentally hit Cooper and waste the drugs. “We only want to help you!”

They fought for what felt like hours but really it was less than five minutes. The adrenaline high, both soldiers feeding off each other. Cooper’s hat flying off, Y/n’s styled hair losing its curl. Creating a wild mane around her shoulders. Lucy was almost mesmerized. Their moves are sharp and quick, inflicting damage on the other and not holding back. Y/n was fast, giving Cooper no time to breathe as she laid punch after punch and kicks. Cooper was more robust, attempting to slow her down by constantly throwing her into a wall or onto furniture. They were in a deadly dance, two former soldiers 

Lucy’s jaw dropped as Cooper was brought to the floor when Y/n attacked him from behind, hooking her legs over his head and switching her upper body from under his right side to his left side in which she unhooked her legs and flipped him onto his back. So fast it competed with the speed of light. “Holy moly!” 

“Fuck,” Cooper coughed, wide-eyed as he looked up to Y/n barely breaking a sweat. A chill down his spine by the fury behind her gaze. He recognized it, recalling the time he fought the Reds in Alaska. She no longer was a woman in front of him, but a soldier. 

He braced himself for her next attack, but before she could unleash it the soldier let out an ‘ah!’, glancing over to find a tranq lodged into her shoulder blade. 

“Clever girl,” Y/n yanked it out, but the damage was done. The vial emptied the drug into her bloodstream, already beginning to take effect. Y/n stumbled, leaning onto the wall closest to her for support. “Hate to tell you though, that won’t knock me out.” her words slurred, making her appear in a drunken state. 

Cooper sat up, catching his breath as he eyed her, “But it’ll sure as hell slow ya down.” Grunting, he brought himself to his knees, using the broken desk to lift the rest of his body up. He was sore, and in desperate need of a drink. Limping to recover his hat and gun, keeping the weapon in his hand. Although he knew he wouldn’t need to use it. Y/n was incapacitated, wobbling with each step and having to hold onto the wall or filing cabinet to keep steady.

“You….” she slurred, eyes dazy as she squinted at Cooper. “The Red….Skull.” 

“I beg yer’ pardon?” he exhaled, staring back with confusion. Did she just call him the Red Skull? He picked at his brain for any recollection of that name. Siphoning through his days in basic and the countless files they racked through. “I have no idea who you’re talkin’ bout.”

“I do!” Lucy shouted, stepping closer to the two who were now several feet apart instead of lollygagging by the entrance of the hall. “I saw the file earlier--the Red Skull, you say?” Y/n nodded, willing herself to find the strength and hope the serum was close to wearing off the drug. “The Red Skull was the leader of Hydra. Who you fought against in the war, correct.” Again she nodded and Lucy realized what the soldier was likely thinking. Letting out a gasp as she raced to where she had discarded the file and opened it to reveal the picture of the man in question. 

Removing it from the paper clip, Lucy held it up, “This man,” she pointed with her free hand first, then to Cooper, “this is who you think he is.” Based on the photo, Lucy understood why the soldier mistook the man as the one she once spent years fighting. The most striking detail being they both had withered skin and lacked a nose. Lucy remembered in her history books the Red Skull got his name due to his blood red complexion. A result of injecting himself with the first attempt at the super soldier serum, unaware of what effects it would have.

But the Red Skull vanished the same day as Steve Rogers. No records indicating where he went. Decades without any new leads and so Shield labeled him to be dead or in hiding. 

The way Y/n’s eyes darted from the photo to Cooper confirmed Lucy’s suspicions. Along with how her face shifted to disdain and then to confusion. Like she too was starting to question her judgment. 

Lucy passed the photo to Cooper, then lifted her hand to Y/n to show she meant no harm. “He’s not the Red Skull,” her voice was gentle, like when one speaks to a child, but also guarded. “I swear to you, Dr. Andrews, this man is not who you think he is. Yes, they look alike--which is an unfortunate coincidence,” Lucy nervously chuckled, aware of Cooper’s glare, “but I can assure you he is not him.”

Y/n didn’t look convinced. “If he’s not the Red Skull, then why--why does he look like him? What is he?” 

Lucy shifted her stance, scratching the back of her neck and giving Cooper an apologetic look. “He’s what you would call a ghoul.”

“A ghoul,” the word was foreign to the soldier, prompting her to ask, “What the hell is a ghoul.” This time Cooper was the one to answer. 

“I’m your future, Birdie,” the nickname was obviously in reference to her superhero alias, the Eagle. “Once you track that wasteland full of radiation you know so much about, you’ll be just like me if you give it time.” 

Y/n’s blood froze, a horrible feeling igniting in her stomach, “What are you talking about?” Wasteland? Radiation? Immediately her mind went to what America was dealing with their former ally turned opponent. 

The Arms Race, did it happen? How much did she miss? Oh God, her family…..

Lucy’s face fell, “Ma’am, there’s something you need to know--.” 

“Vaultie….”

“You’re the one who said something!” she pointed out, causing him to roll his eyes. “We need to tell her, Cooper, it’s the right thing to do!” she defended, pleading with him as she gestured to Y/n’s state. “We can’t just leave her here, and if she goes to the surface she’ll be clueless.”

“It’s not our problem, MacLean,” his words were sharp. Holstering the pistol before adjusting his duster, ignoring Lucy’s appalled expression. “Better we leave her here and figure it out for herself. Not like she can help us with where wer’ goin’.” 

Scoffing, Lucy narrowed her eyes. Disgusted with his apathy and lack of consideration for Y/n’s situation. “Put yourself in her shoes, Cooper. Also in case you forgot, we woke her up. We can at least give her the respect she deserves, by telling her what happened.” Before he could reply, Y/n beat him to it. 

“What do you…you mean--what happened?” her tone was still jumbled, jaw tightened and gripping the edge of the desk like her life depended on it. After what Cooper said and Lucy’s implication, Y/n feared the worst. She was slowly coming to, blurred vision starting to clear. “Where’s Chester…take me to him, now!” 

Cooper glanced at Lucy, begging him with her eyes, and he let out a gumbled sigh. Pushing a chair, not destroyed in their tossle, in Y/n’s direction, “Better for ya to take a seat, Birdie.” A moment passed, Y/n eyeing the chair before yanking it back and falling into it. 

“Start talking. I won’t ask a second time. Whatever drug you stunned me with won’t last long and I demand to know what’s going on.”

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, Cooper turned to Lucy, “Well, valutie, you wanna do the honors. Or have me rip the band-aid off--and It won’t be gentle I can tell ya that.” 

Biting her lip, Lucy felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she gathered her words. “Ma’am, Dr. Andrews,” she corrected, nodding her head in respect. “What is the last thing you remember?” Upon Cooper’s reaction to the question, Lucy panned him a look reading, ‘Trust me.’

Y/n’s eyebrows narrowed, blinking twice before answering, “I was in the computer room. Trying to find evidence that Zola--.” She cut herself off, swallowing. Remembering these were strangers and were working for God knows who. “I won’t say another word until I know who exactly you two are. Or you tell me where Peggy and Chester are!!”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Cooper tipped his hat up, ignoring Lucy’s warning.

“Cooper, please--.”

“Look, there’s no easy way of sayin’ it and frankly we don’t got the fuckin’ time to waste. So I’ll keep it simple by asking you this instead; What year do you think it is, Doctor?”

“1951,” there was no hesitation. Spoken with confidence. 

Lucy let out a choked sound, and Cooper rubbed his jaw. Preparing himself to give the harsh truth, and worried of what outcome laid ahead. Meanwhile Y/n took in their reactions, causing anxiety to rise as she began to feel the air shift. Something wasn’t right, her intuition screamed at her. 

“What?” she demanded. “How long--how long was I out?”

Cooper dropped his head, unable to meet her eyes, “Y/n, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” bad was putting it lightly, “but you’ve been asleep for 345 years.”

The only noise that followed the revelation was Y/n’s sharp inhale. Like all the air had been sucked out of her, and she was now drowning by the way her lungs tightened. Throat closing, head spinning as it processed what Cooper said. 

345 years…. 

A piercing sound filled her ears, while any other noise turned muffled. “What?” Voice cracking, Y/n shook her head in denial. Refusing to accept it. “No. No, you’re lying to me. You--you’re Hydra and trying to manipulate me.” 

“We’re not Hydra, Y/n,” Cooper’s gentle tone shocked even him. But he couldn’t help it for he felt sorry for the woman. Not wanting to imagine what was running through her head. 

Her denial turned to anger, “I don’t believe you! It can’t be--I couldn’t have been asleep for three centuries,” her voice cracked again, the emotion billing up in her throat. “That is not possible!” She stood up hastily, but the drugs had yet to wear off and so she lost her balance, the room spinning and fell back into the chair with a grunt. 

Lucy made a move to help her but was stopped by Cooper. Pushing her to the side while he approached Y/n, kneeling so he was level. “I know this is hard, and I reckon you gonna be angry for God knows how long,” he leaned closer to her, noting how white her knuckles were from gripping the armrest. 

“Stop it--.”

“But it’s the cold, hard truth.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” 

“It’s 2296!” He stunned her into silence, another choked gasp leaving her. Y/n’s mouth agape, staring at him with devastation, and Cooper let out a tired sigh. “Whoever put ya in that pod is long gone. The people you’re asking for,” he referred to Peggy, Howard, and Chester, “ther’ long gone too. Everyone you know has been dead for centuries, Y/n,” a pained whimper escaped, the soldier starting to break. Cooper went on, voice lowering, “You’ve awoken to a whole new world, Doc. One you ain’t gonna fuckin’ like at all, but it’s ya new reality. 1951,” he paused before giving the final blow, “was a lifetime ago.” 

Y/n’s bottom lip quivered, water filling her vision as she fought to keep the tears at bay while the words sank in. She’d always been good at reading people. Picking up body language and cues to tell when one’s lying. But mostly, she could tell in their eyes. For the eyes were the window into one’s soul. 

And right now, the little voice in the back of her head knew he was telling the truth. Still, she shook her head and held on to the small ounce of hope. Her heart barely held on by a thread. “No,” her tone was now pleading, and it actually made Cooper’s heart break just a bit. Seeing the strong woman who fought against Nazis and stood before politicians reduced to a fragile state. “I don’t--I need proof.” Actually having proof would confirm her worst fear, but what good was it to remain in denial. “Prove to me what you say is true!”

Cooper peered up at Lucy, who appeared apprehensive, likely knowing what he was about to suggest. He only gave her a stern look, “You know it’s the only option.”

“But--.”

“There’s nothin’ in this Goddamn bunker that can help prove to our new friend here--,” That was a far reach to call Y/n a friend. She’ll view them as anything but once they take her outside. “That the last 350 years have come and gone.” Y/n looked like she wanted to kill him, not liking the way he spoke of her unfortunate fate. “We take her to the surface, so she can see for herself.” 

Cooper stood up straight, extending his hand to the soldier who eyed it wearily before accepting it, letting him pull off the chair. She maintained her balance this time, the room not spinning as much but senses still disoriented. Only this time it wasn’t the drugs but the overwhelming anxiety consuming her. She let him lead her to the elevator shaft, opening the gate and stepping in. Y/n second and Lucy third. 

The journey up Y/n wanted to vomit, hands beginning to shake. Mind going a million miles per second. Unable to think of a single thing, so she distracted herself from the inevitable by assessing Lucy’s attire. 

“What’s with the suit?”

“Huh?” Lucy turned with surprise. 

Y/n gave her a once over, taking in the stained blue and yellow suit that appeared like it was made of rubber or leather. Kind of like her own tactical suit. “Your suit? What’s the meaning of it?”

Lucy’s mouth formed in an ‘o’ shape, “Oh! Uh, it’s my vault suit. We were obligated to wear them in the vaults--or fallout shelters if you wanna be technical.” 

“Fallout shelters,” Y/n wondered aloud. “I don’t understand.” 

“The um,” Lucy awkwardly cleared her throat, not sure how to say the next speck of reality Y/n had to face. She looked to Cooper for help but his attention was on the gate. She gulped, “The vaults are underground shelters, built to withstand a nuclear attack on the surface. When the bombs dropped those who had a place in the vaults continued life underground, while those on the surface were left for themselves.”

Once again, the world around her stilled. 

“The bombs?” Y/n paled, stomach churning once more. Before she could ask further, the elevator shook as it reached the top. Y/n’s hand reached for Cooper’s shoulder to steady herself, quickly removing it once she did. Not meeting his gaze when she caught him staring at her from her peripheral. 

Hand on the latch, Cooper glanced over his shoulder at Y/n, his expression dour, “Now, before I open this, I need yer’ word you ain’t gonna do anything rash. ‘Cause if ya do,” he pulled his duster aside to reveal his pistol, “I won’t fuckin’ hesitate this time. Understood?”

She held back the urge to say something cutting. Not one to take orders from a stranger, but he had the advantage. Plus Y/n was already fighting back a panic attack, dread rising from her stomach to her chest until it lodged in her throat. Heartbeat picking up. 

“I-I won’t,” she promised, face tightening to the point it hurt. “You have my word.”

Exhaling, Cooper bidded Lucy a warning look until he finally yanked the gate wide open. Sunlight filled the space, the bright light causing Y/n to snap her eyes shut. Raising a hand, she slowly stepped forward, feeling Cooper reach for her forearm to guide her off the shaft. Sand crunched beneath her boots. Sending Y/n’s heart into racing mode as she began to open her eyes, shielding them with her hand until they got used to the blinding light. 

When her vision focused, a wretched sound escaped her mouth, hand falling to cover it as she took in the sight before her. Instead of paved roads she was met with dry, sandy hills. Remnants of buildings she once worked. Destroyed and reduced to ash. Only their iron skeletons remained. Billboards she didn’t recognize, one reading Nuka-Cola and another prompting a company called Vault-Tec. That must’ve been linked to what Lucy was talking about. 

Y/n’s hands went to her stomach, fighting to stay upright as she let out choked breaths. “Oh--Oh God,” she croaked, the truth finally hitting her. She hadn’t accepted it in the bunker, but seeing it firsthand brought a whole new level of anguish Y/n hadn’t experienced since her husband died. Even when Steve got lost in the Atlantic Y/n grieved, but not to the point she felt like she’d actually die. 

This, however, had the potential to kill her. 

Pins and needles pricked her hands, and sweat beaded on her hairline. Y/n’s throat tightening, chest pounding so hard it hurt. Then her whole body began to shake. The churning in her stomach finally snapping, migrating up until it released causing Y/n to hunch forward. Lucy grimaced from the side watching Y/n puke her guts out. Meanwhile Cooper only kept his head down, hands perched on his hips as he listened to the sounds Y/n’s emitted slowly turn into full blown sobs. 

Lucy felt her own tears form, the scene too emotional to bear. Y/n sounded like she was being tortured. Her cries so loud they echoed against the silent wasteland. “No,” she wailed, “No, no, no!!” Knees falling to the sand, Y/n curled herself into the sand. Not caring that it got in her face and hair. Her sobs were pretty much screams of agony, the tears flowing like waterfalls down her cheeks. 

“My babies,” Cooper heard, resulting in him glancing up at the sky, willing himself to hold it together. If there was one thing the cowboy could relate to Y/n now more than ever, was the feeling of a parent losing their child. Children, in her case. “No, my babies,” she broke again, as another excruciating scream tore through her. At that point Lucy couldn’t even contain her own emotion. Tears leaking from her eyes she furiously wiped away, wincing as Y/n screams became choking sounds, head lifting to the sky.

They were gone. Her children were dead, and had been for centuries. Beatrice, Henry, and Charlene. Little Charley wasn’t even two. Henry twelve and Beatrice 16. They’d already lost one parent in the war. And not even ten years later they’d lose the other. With no knowledge of what happened to her. 

Y/n’s mind went to the worst possible thought. That her children believed she abandoned them. Just thinking it sent her into another episode of despair. Who knows what Zola told them. She thought of Chester, Peggy, and Howard. The three people she trusted most in life, behind her husband and Steve. Y/n had to believe they would not rest until they found her. Chester especially. After all they shared a daughter, who was his world. As a man of honor and for the sake of Charley, he would never give up on Y/n. Howard was her cousin, and Peggy her best friend. They would know something was suspicious about her disappearance. Considering it happened not long after the Congressional hearing. 

But still, the nightmare plagued her. Ripping apart her soul until there was nothing left. The numbness got stronger and Y/n began to hyperventilate. Throat opening and closing to the point she struggled to breathe. “I-I can’t--,” she stuttered, hand going to her chest, where she felt her heart begging to explode, “breathe. I can’t-can’t breathe.” Gasping, Y/n felt her eyes bulging, neck veins protruding. 

Cooper became concerned, hearing the woman choke on nothing but air and found himself moving toward her. “Hey now,” he crouched, gently placing his hands on her shoulder only to jump back as she began to thrash. Then it hit him what was happening, “Y/n, you’re having a panic attack. Ya need to breathe, woman, breathe.” She was fighting against his hold, which turned to him wrapping his arms around her, pressing her back against his chest as he fell knees first into the sand. Part of him thought she was gonna die right there. “Dammit, Y/n, ya gonna run yaself to a heart attack. Breathe! Dammit!” He tightened his hold, shaking her rather harshly but it was just what she needed to stop fighting him. “Ther’ we go,” he eased, leaning back on his knees to semi-pull her into his lap. 

It took a good minute, but Y/n soon felt the tremors cease. Heart still pounding but the ringing in her ears stopped. Clutching onto his arms, Y/n’s shoulders shook as the tears returned. Muffling the sound of her sobs by tucking her face into the crook of her elbow. Falling to defeat for the first time in her life.

“My kids are dead,” she broke, shaking her head as her voice became barely a whisper. “My babies are dead.” Cooper stayed silent, allowing the woman to cry her heart out. For she was feeling the worst pain imaginable for a parent. Giving her the comfort he desperately needed when he lost Janey.

For Y/n, she mourned not only her children and the people she loved, but the life taken from her. When Zola placed her in that pod he froze not only her body but her future as well. 345 years, gone in the blink of an eye. Falling asleep at the beginning of the 5th decade of the 20th century. Waking near the end of the 9th in the 23rd. 

The America she left behind was history. Now, the soldier had to face the greatest battlefield known to man. 

The Wasteland. 

In the first two weeks of Y/n’s travels with the bounty hunter and former vault dweller, she learned the dark truth behind the Great War as they dubbed it. After they raided the Shield bunker once Y/n managed to calm down, she led them to a hidden vault within an office wall where she knew weapons and emergency supplies were kept. Using her Shield ID code, which by the grace of God somehow worked. 

Cooper about had a field day. Equipping himself with ammunition and guns. Lucy took claim to whatever she could fill her pack with and Y/n stocked up her suit. Knives, guns, magazines. She found a backpack and packed it to the brim. When she finished she was no longer Dr. Y/n Andrews.

She was the Eagle. 

When neither of her new companions were looking, Y/n slipped into Zola’s office and stole the files on her and her friends. On her way out she stopped by the tv, noticing the box of video tapes beside it. Picking one up, her heart dropped at the label ‘House Committee Hearing ‘50.’ Squeezing her eyes shut, Y/n held herself together. And as the sound of spurs filled her ears, indicating Cooper entered the room, Y/n let out a stained sigh, “I take it you two watched these?”

He didn’t lie to her, “Yeah. We got about six in…including the one yer holdin’.” She dropped it back into the box, not saying another word as she pushed past Cooper to find Lucy. Once they were all ready, they headed back to the surface and set forth to their next target. 

Then came the history lesson when Y/n asked where they were going. The rise of Vault-Tec, the bombs dropping, and how both Lucy’s father and Cooper’s ex-wife were part of it. Y/n looked at Cooper aghast when that detail was revealed, wondering how the hell the math added up. Thankfully they explained, although Cooper was more vague with his description much to her annoyance. 

Lucy was the talker of the two. Happy to answer Y/n’s questions and provide clarification. As she relayed the events of the Great War and Vault-Tec’s corrupt ambitions, Y/n had to contain her reaction. Wanting to scream until her voice gave out. Shoot something until she ran out of bullets. 

How could this happen? How could a company grow so powerful it managed to overtake the government. Gaining enough power to unleash a nuclear event.

So when they sat by the fire and Lucy gained the courage to ask, “What was it like?” Y/n felt that box opening. Confronting the past which was centuries worth of history but had occurred only recently for her. 

“You mean the war? Or life in general?” She answered with her own question, noticing the way Cooper shifted, his eyes peering from beneath his hat. 

“Everything.”

Y/n glanced at Lucy from the side, not moving her body, “I thought you both read my file. And watched the tapes I recorded.”

“We did,” Lucy admitted, offering a nervous smile, “But reading about history is vastly different than when you hear it first hand from someone who lived through it. When I taught the kids in my vault they always preferred watching the holotapes rather than the books that’d been preserved. And so much from the 20th century had been lost….”  Pausing at Cooper’s warning look, Lucy began to ramble, “I-I mean I only ask if you’re comfortable with talking about it. Sorry I should’ve been more considerate--I know it’s a sensitive topic with-- I-I mean you just woke up not even two weeks ago to find 345 years have passed--and America is not how you left it. Oh God I’m being really insensitive--I am so sorry,” Lucy’s mouth snaps as the woman cuts her off with a tired sigh. 

“You don’t have to apologize for being curious, Lucy,” Y/n ran her hands through her hair, dropping her head for a moment before cranking it. “But I should warn you if someone hasn’t yet, curiosity can be a dangerous thing.” The wastelanders knew exactly what she referred to. 

Her curiosity ended with her frozen in a pod for 345 years. 

Removing a cigarette from her tin holder, Y/n used the flames of the fire to light it, taking a deep drag before speaking. “Lucy, you have to understand, I was born at a time when women didn’t even have the right to vote. And once we did there was still a lot of work to be done to even the playing field. I worked hard to secure my education, and it was not without difficulty--especially when the support from family and the system was limited.”

Y/n went on about her life. About what inspired her to study radiation physics. How she met her husband, and her research with Project Rebirth. The SSR, and the war. She kept out some details, obviously, especially the more personal ones about her family. Both were aware she wasn’t ready to speak of her children. Or whatever relationship she had with her colleague, Chester Phillips. 

When she finished Lucy asked the number one question, “How’d you become a super soldier?” Cooper was also interested in the answer, sitting up against his log. Lucy followed it with, “In the tape we watched, you told Congress all the serum was destroyed.” 

Y/n stared deeply into the fire, letting the silence pass as the memory resurfaced. “After the first year we were at a disadvantage. I….before the demonstration Erskine left me a package. He warned me of his concerns that morning that something might happen. He told me to hide it, and that it was only to be opened as a last resort.” Her shoulders shrugged, then confirmed their suspicions, “I knew right then and there a vial of the serum was in the package. And I knew if the government found out, there’d be a bidding war for control. Then when the Hydra spy killed Erskine, I made sure to do everything to prevent them from getting the serum.”

Lucy leaned forward, “That night you told Congress you guys were talking strategy…”

“Was the night we used the serum on me,” Y/n finished the sentence. A sad smile formed on her lips. “We had to. It was our last resort. We went back and forth on who should take it and in the end they all voted I was the best choice. My role in creating it, my expertise in the field. I was already involved in operations with Steve,” Y/n drawled on, “They’d already dubbed me the Eagle in the papers after Steve and I crossed into enemy territory to rescue that unit. They saw it fitting.”

Another pause, Y/n lighting another cigarette, “I honestly didn’t want to--I kept thinking of the consequences if word got out. But I trusted our team, and they trusted me. They had faith when I had fear.” Letting the smoke blow out, Y/n finished her monologue with, “Like an eagle learning to fly.”

Lucy was in awe, but felt an immense amount of sympathy for the woman. She admired her strength, her resilience, her drive to fight for what is right. Lucy related to that. 

“Do you regret it?” she softly asked, “taking the serum?” the question hung in the air. Allowing Y/n to really think although she already knew the answer. 

“I don’t regret anything in my life,” she delivered the truth, not meeting the girl’s eyes. “If I did, I wouldn’t be true to myself.” 

“You know,” Cooper drawled after a minute, gaining her attention, “them history books used to call y’all the ‘Greatest Generation’,” dramatic flair in his tone as he said the phrase. “Givin’ all the shit you folks had to go through. The damn depression and wars. Not to mention y’all were the fuckin’ original Arms Race.” His laugh was dry, “Ironic don’t ya think.”

“Well, forgive me if I sound ungrateful,” Y/n chuckled without any humor. The sound is full of sorrow and a lick of resentment, “but I don’t feel great. Nor deserving of such a label. Seeing as how the world ended up this way barely a century after it ended.” 

Cooper scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well thank God you didn’t have to witness it. Better you were in that fuckin’ pod than watching your precious America get nuked to bits.”

“Cooper!” Lucy scolded, glancing to Y/n to find her completely, and almost frightenedly, stoic. 

Clenching her jaw, Y/n’s anger was becoming more difficult to contain. Going through the five stages of grief daily. Acceptance was on the horizon but she had to navigate the anger and depression first. The denial came and went the day she awoke, and bargaining was useless.  

Taking a sharp inhale, Y/n bit the inside of her cheek, “I was six years old when World War One began, ten when it ended. My daddy was shipped off France and when he returned, he was a different man.” Eyes lined with angry tears, Y/n pinned her gaze on Cooper. He held it, chill running down his spine by the power she radiated. Her voice had an edge, “World War One was supposed to be the war to end all wars. When the Second broke out in ‘39, he and everyone who was fortunate to come home, felt like everything they endured was all for nothing.” She paused, letting the words linger. Lucy’s heart clenched, understanding where Y/n was going by bringing up her father. 

She related to the feeling.

Licking her lips she continued, “So when America entered, and I was recruited, I made a vow to him and to every, single, soldier--living and dead, that what we did would not be in vain. That it wouldn’t be for nothing.” She swallowed, tightening her jaw. “You have no idea what I went through. What I endured. I lost my husband and my best friend,” a tear slipped, rolling down her cheek. “I was the only survivor of the Howling Commandos--do you know what that’s like? To be the only one. I came back home a new person, just like my daddy and every damn soldier who stepped foot on the frontlines. And when I came home….you want to know what I faced?” She didn’t even let him try to answer, but then again how could he answer. 

“I came home to a government that I defended, working to destroy my name and reputation. Who wanted to lock me in a lab to prick and poke for the rest of my life if they discovered the truth because to them, the serum was more valuable than my life. All while raising three young children and preventing a nuclear disaster from happening,” Now the anger had released after two weeks of sizzling. Erupting like a volcano. Y/n didn’t hold back, and the two understood, not moving to interrupt.

 “You told me you went through the second wave of McCarthyism. Well guess what, I experienced the first. Once Congress was off my back with the serum it didn’t end there. I had to face the man the damn movement is named after. Having to rebuild my reputation all over again because the madman accused me of being a communist! When in reality I was doing everything in my power to deescalate the tensions between America and the Reds. To ensure the generations after were guaranteed peace and a safe future. So yeah,” she spat, the fire in her veins mirroring the one in front of her. “It’s a good thing I was in the pod. Saved me the embarrassment of watching the country I risked everything to get blown to bits, as you say, by a failure of a generation.” 

That last statement cut Cooper deep. Yet, he was silent. Unable to form any defense because deep down he knew there was none. His generation failed. Failed their children and the generations after them. They allowed Vault-Tec to control the narrative. Now they reaped the repercussions. But Y/n wasn’t finished, ending him with a final blow to the chest.

“And as a former soldier yourself, Cooper, don’t you blame yourself even the tiniest bit?” His sharp inhale was enough of an answer, Y/n watching the flicker of emotion pass his eyes. She knew it was harsh, but there was no turning back, even if he now hated her. “Because right now, I can’t even bring myself to think my efforts in the war accomplished anything. To me…..it was all for nothing.”

[whousestypewriters]

i don't even know your name - jameson hawthorne x reader

pairing: jameson hawthorne x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, kissing + like running away from the police

a/n: hehe my first tig fic! and my first on this account. i had this little idea at exactly 12:26am in the middle of revamping this blog and wanted to write it i shouldve gone to bed, so sorry if this is crap - sleep deprivation is reallll. its also unedited-

part two: you again??

ok so technically you did steal a car.

but come on, the seven police cars driving after you is just a little bit excessive. especially since its not even a decent car... from a junkyard - which to be honest you're still surprised it even started. no even cares about the damn thing except for you and the junkyard owner who apparently has a vendetta against you.

you've met the guy twice, he's a stinky old man who spends most of his days wasted and drunk. and he's never once paid attention to you sneaking in and out basically living in the car you've just stolen. sorry, borrowed.

the red and blue flashing lights bring you back to your current situation and you wince when you shift gears and swing almost violently around the corner into oncoming traffic. swerving around the honking cars and bright lights you manage to merge back into the right lanes and push forward trying to put distance between you and the cops.

you slip through the cars not even caring about the other people at this point. you just need this car. getting a job these days is harder then it seems and you'd just been offered a job with really good pay and the only requirement was you needed your own car to get to and from work.

so seeing as you're an eighteen year old homeless girl with little to no money, temporarily borrowing this car seemed like a really good idea - until it wasn't of course.

pulling over on the side of the road you decide to abandon the car and try to get away on foot - you can always catch the bus right? following the flow of the crowd you swirl your way through checking over your shoulder every few seconds, not even noticing the fact that you've gone up steps and entered a large line until the security guard calls out to you.

"hey kid! ticket?" swinging around you look up to the stern guard.

"pardon?"

"where's your ticket?"

"oh..." you trail off and the guard steps forward.

"miss, do you have a ticket?"

"....no?"

stepping forward the guard starts to reach for his gun. "miss i'm going to need to ask you to leave."

looking behind you, you try and work out your best escape route from the now approaching police men and the menacing guard at your back.

"uh yeah i'm leaving now," you say swinging around and slipping under the guard and bolting through the doors.

you enter probably the grandest entry room ever. its like straight out of a movie with the grand staircases and people in elegant clothing, unfortunately you don't get much time to admire everything with security and police on your ass.

pushing past the shrieking guests aside you run through the crowd to the next room, straight into the middle of... a dinner party.

great.

this is just great.

"GET HER!" the one of the policemen yells from behind you. you take off again rushing past women in fancy dresses and men in tuxes trying your very best not to step on any of their outfits - because hey, you may be homeless dressed like a middle aged man, but damnit you can appreciate a good outfit.

running into a hallway you panic slightly, choosing a random door and slamming it shut. trying to get ahold of your breath you close your eyes and rest your head against the door, taking deep breaths.

a throat clears from behind you and you practically jump out of your skin.

"hello."

"holy shit! doesn't anybody knock these days??" you shriek.

you look around the office trying to find the owner of the voice but to no avail. the office seemed plain enough a large plush chair behind a mahogany desk with sofas and book shelves adorning the sides of the wall.

"hello?" you look around the office again, bending down to check under the desk.

"look up," the voice comes again.

looking up you see the shadow of a boy sitting on the overhanging ledge of the bookshelf.

"who are you?" you ask eyeing the door and wondering if you still have enough time to get away before the police arrive.

"i think we should really be focusing more on you." the boy's voice vibrates through the room. he leans forward to the point of almost falling off the edge but somehow still staying on.

"i'm not important," you say, then motion up to him. "you'll fall."

"i can assure you i won't." for a moment the boy just lingers there before launching himself off the bookshelf and landing on the floor in front of you. "and besides you've piqued my interest." he strolls over to the desk and casually leans against it as if he wasn't a freaking godlike person.

seriously that bookshelf had to be at least three and a half meters tall!

the boy - now that you can see him better - is also godlike in his looks. its devastating how handsome he is. he's around your age with soft brown hair that seemed to be styled when the night began and had fallen across his forehead and his eyes. his eyes were like emeralds sparkling in the moonlight. suddenly you're favourite colour is green.

"now tell me again, who are you?" he grins - its an awful grin, the type that makes you want to die because its so beautiful.

swallowing the lump that formed in your throat you push the words out. "as i said, that's not important. what is important is that you forget you ever saw me."

the boy raises an eyebrow flashing another grin. "i'm afraid i can't do that."

"why?"

"because you are quiet unforgettable."

you freeze for a moment, then roll your eyes. "is that what you tell every girl who barges into a room to hide?"

"ahh so you're hiding?"

clenching your jaw at that slight bit of information you let slip, you nod.

"from?"

"who do you think jackass? i'm dressed like a 1950's street urchin and just crashed probably the most fancy dinner party i'll ever see, so really, who do you think i'm hiding from? fucking peppa pig?"

a loud bang comes from down the hall and you swing around wishing you had ran instead of talking to the mystery boy.

"come here." his voice snaps you out of your panic.

"what?"

"come here, you don't want to be caught? get over here."

narrowing your eyes at him you move closer to him. "what are you gonna do?"

he stares at you for a moment. "can i touch you?"

"WHAT?"

"not like that, god. that's where your mind went? no. i was just being respectful before i kissed you."

that you pause at. "you're going to kiss me?"

"well, with your permission of course."

"you don't have it."

the boy pouts playfully. "why not?"

"because believe it or not, crashing dinner parties and kissing random strangers who's names i don't know isn't something i do on a regular basis."

"well if you don't want to get caught...." he trails off.

"ew so what if i kiss you, you won't give me up? you think you're that good do you?"

"sweetheart, i am that good."

"not helping your case."

"if i kiss you it hides your face, none of them would ever try and cross me," the boy offers grinning again - does he ever stop smiling? seriously its harmful to look at someone this good looking for this amount of time.

"cause you're just that good right?"

"you're a quick learner."

the commotion from outside comes closer and you tense up weighing your options. goddamnit you're gonna have to kiss him.

"fine you have my permission," you huff. "just don't rat me out."

"i would never."

the police must have reached your door because they knock twice asking if someone is inside that they come out now.

"fucking hell," you mutter. "i cannot believe i'm doing this. i don't even know your name."

"don't worry you're in good hands," the boy says his voice low. he wraps his arms around your waist looking at you to make sure its okay.

"if you don't come out now we're coming in!" the voice from outside yells banging against the door twice more.

"by the way, the names jameson," the boy says before he seals his lips to yours and the door is ripped open with men pouring in.

but you hardly notice it. the boy's - jameson as he called himself - lips are warm as the press into yours. its soft but searing sending tingles through your brain. every thought or protest you had fell out of your head and your hands shoot up into his hair as he tightens is own arms around you.

you're so lost in the kiss you don't even hear the men behind you clearing their throats awkwardly.

pulling away jameson looks at you for a moment seemingly just as stunned as you are before he pulls your head to his chest and rests a hand on the back of your hair keeping your face hidden.

"yes?"

"have you seen a girl; brunette, around your age, wearing a black cocktail dress run through here or past here?" one of the officers asks avoiding eye contact.

"what did you say she was wearing again?" jameson asks.

"a black cocktail dress." these are like the worst policemen ever.

"well... yes-" you tense, this is it. this is where he rats you out, motherfuc-"but she went down the hall and through to the ballroom probably hiding in the crowd."

nodding each of the policemen leave the room and storm their way down the hallway. "uh sorry about interrupting you two as well," the last one says on his way out.

when its safe you pull back from jameson and thank him.

"its not over yet," he grins - seriously who decided he should be this handsome? and takes your hand leading you out the room and down the hallway. "follow me."

you slip out through the now empty entryway and run down the stairs together. this feels suspiciously like a romance novel. when you reach the steps you pull jameson to a stop. "wait don't you have to go to this dinner thing?"

"if it means not spending time with you, i'm okay with missing it," he winks.

"nope, you're not trying to flirt your way into being an outlaw with me," you tease.

"it was worth a shot."

smiling up at the boy who let you go free tonight you reach up on your tip toes and place a soft kiss on his cheek. "i'll be seeing ya jameson."

you slip out into the night leaving jameson on the steps. leaving behind the dangerous feeling that you could lose your heart to that boy.

at least you won't see him again.

[taglist] @nqds, @nuncscioquidsitamor-14, @lxvebelle [if you wanted to be added or removed lemme know!]

a/n pt2: i hope you liked it!!

[annisassintchaska]

Lewis is constantly checking his phone, waiting for a message or call from you, or taking and sending photos for you. Can you write something where everyone around you is aware that Lewis has a different mood than usual, but they don't understand what it is or they can't find out who that person is? I hope it's clear 💜 have a nice dayy

Who Is She?: Lewis Hamilton x Black!Reader

Everyone knew how unfocused Lewis was when it came to relationships. Before now he had taken a break from that part of life and had become a bit distant from a lot of things and people to focus on himself as he said, but what if that wasn’t the full truth?

These days, Lewis could be spotted always typing away on his phone, the AirPods are no longer in use for music, he is always in a way more positive mode than usual as he just overall looked extremely happy it almost hurts.

Toto, Bono, Angela, Susie and George watched on as the Mercedes driver smiled every time he read a message, replying quickly before waiting impatiently for a reply from the person involved in the conversation from the other side.

He was as giddy as a high school boy who finally got recognised by his crush and they were enjoying the view. At first they had no idea what was going on and so it wasn’t until George had secretly overseen Lewis receive a message one day that it was cleared. From the understanding of George the name of the girl was Y/n and that was all they know.

Today was the same with Lewis walking around grinning widely as he typed away at his phone while everyone watched on with smiles and smirks at his behaviour. Angela and Susie however we’re very impatient and wanted to find out about the girl in all seriousness so they grabbed him by the shirt and had him sit in the centre of the garage as all eyes were now on him for the interrogation has begun.

“So Lewis, it’s been a couple of weeks that we’ve been noticing your mood change. Not that we don like it, it’s just that we are concerned about what exactly you got yourself into. Now tell us, we already know it’s a girl no need to hide. We want the details sweetheart” Angela urged him softly. “Well…her name is Y/n L/n…she’s 26 years old…she’s a lawyer and real estate agent…I had been speaking to her for a couple of days before she gave me her number and now we’re dating” Lewis blushed as his team awed at his confession. “That is so sweet Lewis. We can see that she really has you locked in, BUT is there any chance that we’ll see her in the paddock?” Bono asked eager for the response. “I was thinking about inviting her to the next race”Lewis replied making the garage irrupt in cheers as they begged him to make the call now.

The phone rang once, twice then a third time before it was answered “Hey Lew” Y/n greeted making the garage awe at the cute nickname. “Hey Y/n/n I always wondering. Since you mentioned that you work from home, I was wondering if there was maybe a chance that I could fly you out for the next race, that’s if you’re interested?” Lewis asked nervously as the line went silent for a while after. “Umm… yeah, sure I’ll be able to come over as long as you send me the information at least least two days before so I can prepare” Y/n answered and everyone was feeling excited at this point waiting for the call to end.

“Ok sweetie, that’s all I wanted to confirm with you, thanks and have a good day yeah?”he nervously said as she replied “No problem, thank you and make sure that you have a good day and don’t go stressing your teammate and team principal out ok? Bye bye” as the phone hung up everyone erupted into applause and cheers as they now had a guest to prepare for leaving a shyly blushing Lewis to go hide away in his drivers room until he was next needed.

[picksnrolls]

Iowa CC getting feisty and bossy and Kate fucking the attitude out of her... She's her captain after all

Sorry it took me so long to get this out Anon but I hope this it to your liking. And anyone else's.

Halftime Adjustments

Warnings- 18+ Smut

The buzzer sounded alerting the end of the first half. Hawkeyes were down 19 to an unranked non conference team. CC had gone 1 for 8 in the second quarter and missed 3 free throws in a row. To make matters even worse she was yelling at the refs and barely passing to any open players except for Stuelke who was having her own nightmare defensive matchup. 

Kate had to talk her teammates down 3 times already and try to keep Caitlin from launching her water bottle at the coaching staff during a timeout near the end of the first quarter. 

The whole team was having an off game but 22’s antics were wearing everybody's nerves thin. Monika did all she could to keep the players on the court focused and let Kate try to work her usual magic with their star point guard but there was only so much she could really say or do in a public setting and stage. 

Kate gripped Caitlin's wrist as they jogged back to the guest locker room, the latter trying to tug away but only felt the hold become tighter. 

“Let fucking go of me!" Caitlin hissed out. 

When the hold didn't drop she ripped her arm away only to have her whole body directed into one of the offices in the back with the blinds pulled tight on both the window and door.  

" What the fuck are you doing right now, Kate?!” 

Kate’s face remained neutral until the door shut, her eyes blazed and narrowed, brows pinched together with heavy annoyance. She had Caitlin pressed face down over the old metal desk, legs kicked apart, ass a little higher in the air than expected. She had roughly 20 lbs on her but once Caitlin was in rage mode her strength really knew no limits. The movements were happening so fast Kate had taken her teammate off guard, allowing her to grab a hold of her shorts and sport briefs and rip them as far down as they'd go.

" You wanna throw tantrums on the court and yell in people's faces huh? Boss everyone around and act like you're in control hmmm?" Kate plunged two fingers deep inside Caitlin’s surprisingly wet center as she growled in her ear. The office wasn't that far away from where the rest of the team was and she knew she had maybe 3 to 4 more minutes before the coach would be expecting them to be sat with everyone. 

Caitlin was trying to pull her shorts back up and knock Kate back when her arm was trapped behind her forcing her back down face first. The force with which Kate pumped into her had her confused at first and then aroused which led to her stopping fighting it. She was drenched from sweat and now her own slick coating her inner thighs and Kate's hand.

Kate pulled out, wrapped her arm around the girl beneath her and went to work on her clit, rubbing tight fast circles. It took barely a  minute and she had her shaking and whimpering and blinking back the white spots from her vision. She fisted her ponytail, yanking her head back far enough so she could look her in the eye while demanding entrance into her mouth with her cum soaked fingers. 

Caitlin cleaned them as much as she could while trying to catch her breath and process what exactly had happened and how quickly. They enjoyed the occasional quickie here and there but never in the middle of a game and never like this.

“Now as your captain and leader I expect your attitude to be adjusted. Pull yourself together, fix your hair and be back out at your spot immediately after. Understood?”

Caitlin nodded while still remaining slumped across the desk, she was just regaining control of her breathing.  

Barely a minute later Caitlin sat down at her locker, jersey tucked back into her shorts and hair fixed, with no signs of it having been pulled from its normal pony. She mumbled a soft sorry to the group without making eye contact with anyone.

The team went on to win the game with a late 3rd quarter push, 22 leading the way with 21 2nd half points and 7 assists, 4 to her teammate, captain, and girlfriend. 

[loupy-mongoose]

Fuji stood in silence, the two Mews and the little Mewtwo floating in front of him. Randy's widened, horrified eyes locked onto Fuji's, neither seeming sure how to go on.

Finally, Fuji shook his head lightly and turned away. No... It... I-It has to be a dream... It's too... too surreal... Another Mewtwo, with Mo of all Mews... It has to be a dream...

Lavender floated toward him, casting a nervous look at her parents. I-It's not... I'm sorry... She gently reached out and touched his arm. We're real, and we're here...

Fuji steadily met her gaze. Then the gentle man turned from her to Randy. He looked long and hard at the pink Mew, and in the little bit of his consciousness that wasn't panicking or wishing to wake from this sudden nightmare, Randy thought he saw a lifetime flash in the man's eyes.

Finally, Fuji spoke. You aren't Mo, are you...

Randy felt as if his heart had been stabbed, and his blood went cold. Thoughts flooded uninvited into his mind.

How many times had he tried to convince himself that over the last five years?

How many times had he looked at himself in the mirror, wishing he would one day wake up with his old brown eyes, to find it had all been a cruel dream?

How many times had he been fine, only to be slammed with the fact that he was Mo...?

In his hesitation, Akoya answered for him. He's not... But we knew him...

Fuji's gaze darkened. Suddenly it makes sense why you'd know about Nico...

Randy, who could feel his attention being washed away by his anxiety, snapped back at those words. He vaguely noticed his wife's pelt puff up again.

His voice shook. ...What do you mean...?

Fuji looked at him questioningly. ...Wait, you didn't learn about him from Mo?

Randy felt a twinge in his mind. Mo... hadn't told him... right?

Surly he would remember that...

He... never mentioned him, no....

Fuji's eyes grew sad. I guess that makes sense too... He wasn't exactly happy about Nico...

So Mo knew him? How?

Fuji's gaze drifted into a time long passed. He took a breath and closed his eyes. Mo's DNA was used to create Nico... As an attempt to find a way to bring Mews back from extinction...

But... when he saw what was coming from it... He left...

And... I don't blame him...

His eyes bore into Randy. Are you related to him, at least? You look so much like him...

Randy's ears fell back, and his brows creased together. His voice was shaky and hoarse. ...I.... ah....

Akoya floated close to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, fighting his daze of rising anguish, and anchored himself in her rich, sapphire eyes.

As he took a reassuring breath, Akoya turned back to Fuji. Are we still welcome to stay in your guest room? Or has that offer changed, now that you've seen what we are?

Fuji gave her a warm smile, though his eyes were still clouded with questions and his old memories. My arms and house are open to those in need. People and Pokemon alike. An eyebrow raised questioningly. Or... In between...? He shook off that train of thought. And I'd say you guys are in need of at least a place to rest.

Here you are.

The room was pleasant. A good sized bed loomed in the center, painfully inviting, with a short dresser at the foot of it. Two side tables flanked the head.

There are extra blankets and pillows in the dresser there. Make yourselves comfortable.

He gave them a deep, finalizing nod.

Have a good rest.

Akoya smiled at him. Thank you so much, Mr. Fuji. We really do appreciate it. It's just a... Well, it's been a weird day for us, too.

Fuji smiled back at her. He waved farewell, and they close the door.

Randy, now in human form, trudged over to the bed, leaning heavily on his cane. He fell onto it without a word and lay still.

Akoya, still in Mew form, hovered over and psychically repositioned him to be more comfortable. By the time she covered him with the blanket, he was fast asleep.

Lav, also still in her Mewtwo form, asked her mom quietly, Where are the twins?

Akoya looked at her, filled with a warm love and encouragement that Lav hadn't felt in quite awhile. They're with Persim, outside of Lavender. She thought for a moment and giggled. ...I'm not used to saying that word and not having it be about you.

Lav gave a light chuckle, but her mood wasn't lifted. She hugged herself, her tail resting on the floor around her feet. Her expression dropping, Akoya floated over to her.

I messed up, Mom... I didn't want you and Dad to get hurt... She looked at Randy, sleeping soundly on the bed. But he's still the one paying for it.

Akoya wrapped her tail around her daughter's two necks and gave her a hug on the head. She sighed. We all make mistakes, Lav. Some bring more weight than others. But we'll bare it together, okay? We'll work through this. Just remember, we've got your back. She glanced at her mate. And we've got his back.

Lavender gave a small scared smile and nodded.

Akoya pecked her on the cheek and floated away from Lav, toward where her best friend lay sleeping. She stopped and turned to Lav. You're welcome to join us on the bed, if you want.

Lav's tail flicked, and her ears went back. Thanks, Mom, but I think I'll pass...

Akoya gave her a sad but understanding look. Okay. Hey... We love you. Both of us. Very much.

Lav smiled, half-forced. I love you too, Mom.

She watched her mom fly over and disappear behind her dad. She hesitated, then floated over to him herself. She gave him a small kiss on his head, though she wasn't sure he would be aware of it.

Then she gathered some extra blankets and pillows, and floated over to the corner of the room, where she curled up in a makeshift fort and drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

[chronurgy]

i loveeeeeeeee your hc about gortash in all your tags!!! can you share your favorite hc about durge/gortash shenanigans in the city?

Yeah absolutely! Shenanigans hmmm....

Some of these will be a little more specific to my durge (Vesper, half-drow wizard) than others

During the Hall of Wonders heist, gortash specifically left some guards out of his reconnaissance to test how Durge handled themselves under pressure. He wanted to know if this was someone he would work with or someone too crazy to manage.

Gortash and Durge did a heist in the House of Hope as a trial run for their heist of the Crown - this is when they stole Raphael's shoes (the helldusk armor boots that Gortash keeps in the chest at the foot of his bed). Gortash didn't tell them about his history there or with Raphael before they went in. I think after seeing him there Durge did put at least pieces of it together and really left lots of burn marks and blood and guts spread around in their wake to get back at Raphael. They also broke at least one priceless and irreplaceable vase on "accident" while they were there. Their ire towards Raphael from this realization actually manages to carry over even when they can't remember why and it's partly why they're so determined to kill Raphael and so insistent that they won't work with him.

Gortash takes Durge to fancy parties, for a number of reasons - as a bodyguard, to bring them close to a murder target, to introduce them to the kind of high society stuff they'll be involved with as his co-ruler. But also because he loves to show them off, his darling assassin, loves the vicious little comments they make about the other attendees. He starts finding excuses to bring them to any party he can because he only ever enjoys these parties when they're with him, when he has someone just as brilliant as he is at his side. Durge usually has to attend in disguise but sometimes just dressing up fancy enough not to look like a sewer rat is enough to fool people.

Gortash is the kinda guy who will work himself to exhaustion and then fall asleep at his desk. The first time Durge found him like that, completely dead to the world on top of his diagrams and sketches, they thought about killing him. They imagined every detail, knew exactly how it would go. It would have been so easy, because he's so defenseless like this. They see his eyes moving under their lids, see his hands flex, and little expressions pass over his face - they know he's dreaming. They wonder what he's dreaming about (is it them?). And they don't kill him. They just watch him sleep, fascinated by the differences between the waking man they know and this unguarded sleeping one. They leave before he wakes up. I think they do this a couple of times before he finally catches them (maybe because they try to stroke his hair or something in a fit of softness). At first he's like, "oh my apologies, please don't hesitate to wake me should this happen again" before he puts together the look on Durge's face and realizes they've been watching him sleep and tried to like, touch his hair. He considers this a success because they could've killed him a whole bunch of times and didn't and they seem to be developing some sort of feelings towards him. He resolutely does not acknowledge the existence of any things he could possibly be feeling about this. Not at all.

Gortash keeps a large fancy estate in the city, Durge has a guest room there - it starts out as just an extra room but as they spend more time there Gortash starts to customize it more to their liking. He also moves their room to be next to his once he realizes that they're staying over more often, blaming a maid for knocking over a candle and causing fire damage in their old room when they ask why it was moved.

I think one night they have to have at least one really stupid caper they pulled off while extremely drunk that neither of them will talk about - as an example, they got super drunk, decided that since they were so good at heists they should do more of them, broke into some patriars estate, and stole a ton of fancy liquor. They also stole the bust of some guy from the entryway and staggered up the stairs to escape out the window of the daughter of the house's dressing room. Anyway, they woke up the next morning on the floor of Gortash's bedroom, extremely hungover and both of them (and the bust they stole) were wearing fancy little fascinator hats they can't remember but must have stolen out of the dressing room. They try to laugh at each other but gortash just ends up violently throwing up in a trash bin while durge lies on the floor with their eyes squeezed shut because the room won't stop spinning. They refuse to speak of this and will adamantly deny it ever happened if asked. Durge absolutely killed sceleritas while trying to force him into a stupid hat. The exact series of events might need some workshopping, but the core idea is some extremely stupid adventure the two of them had together that neither would ever admit to but is also a cherished memory for both of them.

Gortash's gauntlets (before he had the netherstone) used a series of capacitors and a setup akin to a self winding watch to generate an electric charge that he could attack people with. He designed them himself.

Vesper finds these gauntlets fascinating. When they first meet in person, he shows them off and discusses their construction and it's the first thing about him that they find impressive and intriguing.

As a gift, Gortash gave Vesper a set of sharpened rings designed after his gauntlets.

Vesper actually helped Gortash with some of the designs for the steel watch, looking at the plans and making suggestions - they were especially helpful when it came to the magical portions of the construct.

I think the closest the Urge ever comes to forcing Vesper to kill Gortash isn't when they first meet or during sex. It's one day when they're waiting for some spy's report, so they're sitting around in his room. He's tinkering with something at his workbench, and they're sitting at a desk working on a spell. They realize they need certain special inks for the transcription and look up to see them in the desk's little shelving unit and then they look closer and realize the desk is stocked with all the things a wizard needs - inks, chalks, paper, magical components. And this is the desk they always sit at when they're here and need to do some work. And Gortash has stocked it as a wizard's desk. He's made it their desk. And he's working at his workbench and they're working at their desk together in companionable silence. It's domestic, almost. And that's when the urge hits, with just absolutely crushing intensity, and they turn on gortash. Jokes on them, he's into that shit. After some back and forth between them (the level of explicitness is up to you! Or me, if I can get my act together and write this!), Vesper more or less jumps out the window and spends the next couple of days cutting a bloody swathe through baldur’s gate. When they finally return to him, gortash just asks them if they enjoyed their little vacation. After that, even when recreating much the same scene, the urge never comes on as strongly again (they don't know it at the time but this is the first time they've managed to throw off Bhaal's yoke when he really wanted them to kill someone. He never pushed that hard again with gortash because he's afraid of the consequences, though he still does push them to kill him a little bit).

Gortash gave durge a number of gifts over their acquaintance, both practical and fantastic: jewelry, enchanted items, clothes, shoes, books, any and everything you can imagine. He loves seeing them using his gifts, carrying or wearing something he gave them, because it helps mark them as his. He spends absolutely lavishly on them, buying them beautiful and fancy clothes for them to wear when they're in his house or out with him in public. He also buys them more practical gifts, well-fitting boots, weapons, armor, all of it enchanted and worth a small fortune.

On some of his gifts to Durge, he encodes messages for them in their cypher. They say things like "For my dearest assassin" and "To the sorrow of all" on a weapon and "pari pasu" (Latin for with equal step) and "I've always liked to play with fire", plus any number of other things.

Gortash has a thing for Durge wearing his clothes. One cold morning durge throws on his black coat when they get out of bed to check something and seeing them wearing nothing but his coat is such a thing for him that he ditches all their plans for the day to spend the day in bed with them.

Gortash has a number of affairs, to help his star rise in the upper city. He may use them to make durge jealous, but they are ultimately people to be used and discarded. He doesn't care what they do, because they're tools. Durge is his. His partner. And that's why he doesn't share.