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dancingtotuyo · 6 months ago

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15. holding my breath for you

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed. Spoilerish for TLOU 2

Chapter Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt /comfort, gore, violence, TLOU II SPOILERS, Major Character Death

Notes: I would say sorry... but I'm not sure I am. I LOVE YOU ALL DEARLY THOUGH!

If you haven’t seen this beautiful commission of Joel and Reader yet, you should.

Words: 6125

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Dawn is just forming when you roll over to find Joel’s side of the bed cold. A pout forms on your lips before you can open your eyes. He’s due to set out on patrol this morning and didn’t wake you up. He’s supposed to wake you up before he leaves. It’s the rule.

You check on the kids to make sure they’re still asleep before trekking down to the stables. You pull the worn robe tightly around you as the wind whips at your hair and fresh snowfall threatens above you. You should’ve changed out of your pajamas, pulled on your boots and coat, but you fully intend to climb back into bed after this. They should still be there. Their patrol isn’t scheduled to leave for another 10 minutes. You find Joel in the stall at the end, diligently inspecting the saddle.

“You didn’t wake me up.” You cross your arms.

His head snaps up, a small smirk forming on his lips as he takes in your disheveled look. “You looked too cute this morning.”

“It’s the rule, Miller. We have rules for a reason. You always wake me up.” You put on a pout, but Joel sees through the teasing mannerisms, the stress that always creases your brow before patrols, especially overnight and snowy ones.

“I’m sorry.” His hands grab your waist, pulling you against his sturdy frame as he kisses your forehead. “Will you forgive me?”

“Maybe.”

He kisses your cheek. You don’t give in. He kisses your other cheek, then your neck, behind your ear until you're laughing like you’re a teenager and not almost 50 years old. He chuckles. It’s the kind that could and has kept you warm through the most brutal of winters.

“Okay, Okay.” You throw your hands up in surrender. They settle on his shoulders. “I forgive you.”

“Good.” He presses a firm kiss to your lips. “They’re closer than we thought. We’ll probably be out there a few days, back in time for Willa’s dance recital. I promise.”

“You better.” You push down the anxiety that rises. This is your least favorite kind of patrol. “She’s been practicing nonstop.”

“I know.” Joel sees it in your eyes, hears it in your voice. His arms wrap around you, burying his head into your neck. “She’s gonna be the prettiest damn butterfly up there.”

You lean into his warmth. You don’t sleep well alone. The kids get grumpy without him around. His breath is hot in your ear. “I’ll be back before you know it, Sweetheart.”

You squeeze him tight and then his lips are on yours, soft and sweet.

Tommy clears his throat. “You ready to go? You don’t have time to take her back to bed, Joel.”

You flip him off. Joel gives you another sturdy kiss for good measure. Tommy rolls his eyes.

You walk with them to the front of the stables, Joel’s free hand in yours. “Be safe.”

“Always.” He squeezes your hand.

He’s about to mount his horse, but quickly changes paths. Handing Tommy his mare’s reins, he kisses you again until you’re both breathless. Tommy shakes his head, teasing grin on his lips from on top of his horse. Joel smiles at you like you hold his whole world because you do. “I love you.”

“Stay safe out there,” you say as Joel takes the reins back, mounting the horse. “I love you.”

“Always, Darlin.” He winks at you.

You look at Tommy. “Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

Tommy chuckles. “As if I could start now.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “We’re losing daylight, little brother.”

You step back. Joel winks at you. “Love you,” and then they’re off.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. The words echo in Joel’s mind. There are too many of them. How did they all get here? Jackson is supposed to be too far out for this many infected. His mind races, desperately scanning for an out, while also trying to keep himself and Tommy alive.

Then the girl shows up, like a light in the darkness offering up a plan of escape. He takes it. Who wouldn’t? He wants to see his family again. He doesn’t ask or wonder what the girl is doing here with a group of friends. There’s no time for caution. It’s a way to get out- a way back. The only thing on his mind is getting back to you in one piece.

Once they’re safely behind the gate, inside the house- he knows this place. It’s yours- well your grandparents. It starts to sink in. He counts at least 8. He sees the looks between them when he introduces himself. Something's not right.

“Say, what brings y’all out here?”

The room is quiet. They’re staring at him like he should know them, but they’re too young to have known him before. He exchanges a look with Tommy. Then there’s a shotgun in his face. Before he can comprehend that this is the end, it goes off at his knee. Joel yells out in pain. He can see his femur. His arms are pinned. A tourniquet is placed around his thigh to keep him from bleeding out. Two of the other guys hold Tommy back.

The girl, Abby, holds a golf club. Of all the ways Joel imagined dying, this was not it. He can hardly hear her through the pain and the thoughts swirling in his mind. There’s no getting out of this. There’s no help on the way. This is the end. It hits him like a blow to the chest. There’s no seeing Willa’s dance retail on Wednesday. No more playing catch with Carter. No chance for Ellie to forgive him. No more holding you.

The words hurt as they come out. It feels like giving up because it is. “Just get it over with.”

His words seem to anger Abby. He doesn’t know who she is, doesn’t know who her friends are, but he knows he’s about to die. He knows the look in their eyes. He’s all too acquainted with revenge.

Then another thought pops into his head as his eyes move from Abby’s. It’s the dark stain in front of the fireplace. It could pass off as dirt and grime now. You spent years trying to get it out, but he knows it’s blood. Carter’s blood. He can’t let this happen here. He can’t give you another reason to hate this place. Another bad memory to tarnish the good ones.

“This won’t be fast.” The golf club collides with his ribs.

He coughs, sputtering as his lungs struggle to recover from the blow. Abby paces in front of him stalking like a predator does to its prey. Taunting him.

“Please,” he wheezes. “Not here. Somewhere…” he inhales deeply. “Somewhere else.”

Abby seems taken aback by the request.

“Anywhere but here.” It hurts to draw breath, but it’s getting easier. “Outside-“

“So you can freeze before I’m done? I don’t think so.”

Abby’s foot collides with his face. There’s the unmistakable crunch of a broken nose. Blood flows from it.

“Please. Not here.” He meets her eyes. The golf club strikes his lungs again.

Joel sees it. She won’t give in. He’s going to die here. His blood will mingle with your brother’s. He’s failed you.

He lets his brain take him away from what’s happening, but each blow brings him back to reality. He’s thinking about you, the last thing he said. Did he tell you he loved you? The next hit knocks the air out of him. He left the house without waking you up. He almost left without seeing you this morning. He’s pretty sure the next one hits a kidney. He thanks whatever god is there you woke up. That he got to see you one last time, feel your lips against his.

One of his ribs cracks.

He waited too goddamn long to tell you he loves you. He didn’t say it nearly enough in the short time he had.

Two more ribs shatter.

Maria comes over to the clinic after watching the blizzard roll over the mountains. It’s hitting Jackson now, but you're worried about the people sent out there today, the ones who sit at your family table in particular. Ellie, Dina, and Jesse left a few hours after Joel and Tommy

You’re organizing shelves to keep yourself busy, sure at least one person will wander in with frostbite shortly. It’s a good distraction from the other worries at hand.

“Willa ready for her dance recital?”

“I can barely get her out of the wings to go to bed.” A smile flutters over your lips.

Maria laughs. “I was talking to Rachel last night. She’s running around like crazy trying to make sure they have everything ready.”

“I bet… I’m glad they’re doing this though. It’s been an especially cold winter.”

You’d lost more patrols to the cold than to Infected this year. That hadn’t happened before.

“They’ll be okay,” Maria says. “Always are.”

The radio crackles to life before you can respond. Your stomach drops. Only two outposts have radios. You only use them in emergencies, preferring to stay off the radios whenever possible.

“Outpost 2 to base.” Dina’s voice filters through the static affected by the ensuing storm.

Your stomach drops. Maria picks up the receiver. “Base to Outpost 2- Dina is that you?”

“Maria?”

“Dina, is everyone okay?”

Your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest. It’s a stupid question. You don’t use the radios when everything is okay. Outpost 2 is a 4-hour ride from here. In the blizzard, it’s probably longer. You start putting your kit together.

“I don’t know- Jesse said Joel and Tommy missed their check-in.” The supplies in your hands clatter to the floor. You make eye contact with Maria. “We split up to look for them. I’m going to head toward the Baldwin Mansion to find Ellie. No trace of them this way.”

You freeze, heart stopping. Not there. Anywhere but there. You lock eyes with Maria. “You shouldn’t-” But her words set your resolve.

“I’m going.”

“It’s not safe-”

“It’s Joel and Tommy!”

You don’t want to. You swore you’d never go back there, but this is Joel. If you aren’t there to help him, you’ll never forgive yourself.

“Maria?” Dina comes through fuzzy as the blizzard interferes with the frequency.

You can probably make it there about the same time Dina will. It won’t be easy, but you can do it. You have to. You stuff a few more things into your backpack.

“We’ll meet you there.”

“Be careful, there’s definitely a colony coming in.”

“You too.”

Maria drops the receiver, looking at you. “I’ll go have them saddle up a couple of horses, check out a few firearms.”

You nod, focused on what to bring. You don’t have time to spare tears. Tears will freeze as soon as you’re outside and dehydrate you.

You meet Maria by the stables. She hands you a rifle and a pistol. It’s been a long time since you rode out like this. You both know the implications if you don’t come back, but you don’t hesitate when the gate opens.

Infected, burnt to a crisp, are pushed to the side and the gate is wide open when you arrive. It’s an eerie sight. Someone was here.

A horse whinnies in the distance. The snow has slowed down but still creates a cover. You pull the pistol from the holster at your thigh, adrenaline pumping. Two figures come into view.

“It’s us!” Dina calls out. Jesse rides beside her. You relax some, but your anxiety still rides high.

You find Joel and Tommy’s horses in the garage. It’s all wrong. They wouldn’t have left the gate open, not with all those infected out there even burnt up. You keep your guard up as you clear the house room by room. Jesse and Dina don’t ask how you seem to know this place like the back of your hand. You avoid the den, leaving it for last. You hope to hear their playful banter drifting from room to room, but the house is silent.

When you come to the den, you let the others take the lead. You’re struggling to keep your hands steady, and before you can enter the room, you hear their curses. You smell the blood before you see it. It’s splattered on everything around. Then you see him. Joel, your Joel, laying in his own blood. Your ears ring, pressure building between them. Your vision turns red. It’s so familiar and Carter’s limp body flashes before your eyes. A sob gets stuck in your throat. Maria’s arms are around you, keeping you upright before you realize your legs have given out. You stare at him. You wish you could stop looking at it, but you can’t as the sight sears itself into your memory.

For the first time, your prayer changes. Please, let him be dead. You shudder. Because if he’s not dead, he’s suffering, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Dina rouses Ellie on the other side of the room. Jesse helps Tommy into a sitting position. They seem okay, physically, but your brain barely comprehends it all. You look at him, battered and bruised. The bone of his right knee is exposed. It’s the work of a shotgun at close range. There’s a tourniquet around his thigh. Your stomach drops. This wasn’t some random hit. They wanted him alive as long as possible.

Your eyes drift around the room. A bloodied golf club lays in front of the fireplace. Joel’s fresh red blood drips over the fading remnants of your brother’s causing bile to burn in your throat.

“You have to do something.” Ellie looks at you. Tears streak her face. Anger and rage fit for a grown man rattle her small frame. “You’re the only one who can help him!”

You shake your head. The tears fall freely now. You try to get the words out, but it's like someone has shoved cotton down your throat. Your tongue flops uselessly in your mouth. “Ellie- I can’t-” Your words are scattered and disjointed. Maria cradles your head against her chest, “There’s-”

Joel groans. Your heart stops. The world goes silent. He does it again. This time, one of his fingers twitches.

“Oh my God…” Maria breaths.

Tommy curses under his breath. You feel it heavy in your chest. Fuck.

None of it’s from relief. It’s pure horror. Because you all know, he’s not coming back from this.

Ellie rushes forward. She touches Joel’s hand. You see the hope radiating as she locks eyes with you. “You can still save him.”

It’s a stab to your chest. “No, I can’t.”

You watch the light flicker from her eyes. “You have to! You fucking have to!” The tears flood her eyes. “C’mon, Joel. You have to get up! Fucking get up!”

She presses on his shoulder in an attempt to get him to his back. He groans out in pain. The knife in your chest twists.

She stops, choking on her tears. “Joel… please get up.” Her voice is weaker now. Her pants soak with dark red.

He grunts out something that sounds something like “Ellie.”

“You motherfucker.” She cries, but it’s an endearment. You catch the slight uptick of Joel's colorless lips. Ellie can’t stop crying. Trying to wipe the tears away, she leaves streaks of blood on her cheeks. Joel tries, but he can’t get anything else out.

You lean further into Maria’s grasp but she can’t squeeze you tight enough, only Joel could ever do that.

Something in Ellie snaps. The tears stop, and her breathing settles. It’s like watching a person go from human to robot, except she looks more like the girl you met 7 years ago, and less the angry young woman you’ve come to know. There’s a telepathy going on between them. You’ve seen it so many times before. Her hand rests on top of his. Her head nods like she knows what he’s trying to say.

“I forgive you.”

It knocks the air from your lungs. Tommy’s too. You know what it’s about. You know how big this moment is. The weight on your chest lightens a little bit.

Ellie looks up at you, and motions you toward them. “He wants you.”

She moves from Joel’s side, making space for you. You lay down next to him, not caring about the blood-soaked carpet around and the way it bleeds into your clothes. Gently, you run your fingers through his blood-matted hair. “Hey, Baby.” You’re careful not to cause more pain with your touch.

His eyes meet yours. You see the sparkle of tears in them. He attempts to talk again in a long slow slur. You can barely make it out. “I’m sorry”

The knife is pulled from your chest cavity, the pain so physical you shudder. His index finger moves over your left knuckle and your chest shakes again. You force a smile. You just want him to be at peace, “It’s okay, Joel.”

His head shakes briefly, barely noticeable, but you’re tuned in to his every movement, his every breath, his every heavy heartbeat. “It’s okay.” You kiss his hand, then his forehead. It’s sweaty and the tang of blood hits your senses. “We’ll be okay. You can let go.” You whisper it in his ear. A tear rolls down his cheek. You want him to let go so fucking badly. You don’t want to do what’s required. What you wouldn’t do for Carter.

His lips move but nothing comes out. It seems to frustrate him. Tears roll down your cheeks. He’s trapped in a body that doesn’t work but refuses to let him go. “Shhhh, I know, Joel. I know.” It’s the same voice you used to soothe your infants. “I love you.”

His hand squeezes yours gently. You give him a nod. He lets his eyes flutter closed. You lay there for longer than you should. It’s selfish, but you don’t think you’ll be able to do it if you don’t take your time. Finally, you sit up. Tommy comes over to say his goodbyes. You’re not paying attention, too focused on what you have to do.

His hunting knife is still strapped to his ankle like it always is. You look it over even though you’ve seen it a million times. It’s big enough. It’ll work. You just pray you can go through with it. Maria joins Tommy at Joel’s side.

“Jesse?” you say. “Will you get a blanket to cover him. There should be a big comforter in the hallway closet.”

You catch the confusion in his eyes. How would you know that? But he nods, following your instructions without questions. You lay the knife on the floor and catch Ellie staring at it. You see it in her eyes. She knows what’s about to happen. You hope she doesn’t blame you.

You can’t meet her eyes as you whisper it out. “It’s what-”

“I know.” She says quickly, her voice still wavering. “I know.”

“Tommy, help me get him on his back. I don’t-“ you choke up. You let the tears flow freely, but you will your medical training to take over. Except, this isn’t fucking medical care. It’s not even fucking palliative care. It’s cruel mercy. You aren’t trained in that. “I don’t think I can do it properly with him on his stomach.”

You, Tommy, and Maria work together to get him on his back as gently as possible. He cries out with each movement. It’s torturous. Each noise comes from a deeper part of his body. You swallow back bile each time. You have to get this right the first time. If you don’t, you’re not sure you can do it a second.

Jesse drops the comforter beside you. It’s the one with little pink rose buds, the one you always used to sleep under the stars, big enough to curl around you like a cocoon even as a grown adult, the one you and Joel picnicked on when you visited last. Your fingers run over it with the memories- so many nights spent under the stars dreaming of the future. It provides you with little comfort now. It's purely practical, thick enough to absorb whatever blood Joel has left in him. More memories washed in blood.

Ellie is huddled in the corner, back turned to it all. Dina is at her side. Maria never takes her eyes off you. Finally, he’s on his back. You unbutton his flannel, use the knife to cut open his under shirt. Deep, dark bruises mare his skin. You can see where they targeted the most. Places to inflict maximum pain and prolong suffering. You focus at the place between his left ribs. His breathing is labored. You hear it with each breath, see it in the rise and fall of his chest. The spot on his chest taunts you, dares you to do it.

You turn to Maria. “As soon as it’s out… cover him with the blanket.” You don’t want to see the wound.

You look at his face. You think he’s unconscious now. You pray he doesn’t feel it, hope his brain has taken him away from reality. Pressing your forehead to his, you tell him you love him again. There’s no response and no indication he hears you.

You steady your breathing. “Ellie?” You look to her for permission.

She barely meets your eyes but nods.

You look back to Joel. You mentally clear the blood from his features. He looks peaceful now. You memorize his face as you know it, not how it appears. You look down at his ribs again. You touch the space and count with shaking hands.

You glance at the 17 year old stain reminding you of the way you failed Carter. You won’t fail Joel. You can almost feel your brother’s ghost at your side, assuring you this is the only option, assuring you there’s truly no chance to save the man you love, and it comforts you. This place homes your best memories and your worst nightmares. You wonder if Joel’s ghost will stay here, pacing the halls with Carter’s or follow you home.

Then you recount the ribs, making sure you get it right through the blur of your vision. You feel his heart beating under your hand, the very heart you’re about to stop. You can do this…

There’s a hand on your shoulder, another on your wrist. Tommy crouches behind you. He takes the knife without a word. His eyes say it all. He’ll do it. You don’t have to bear the weight of it. You should tell him that he doesn’t have to bear it either, but you don’t because the truth is you’re just relieved you don’t have to.

You lay a finger on Joel’s chest. Tommy’s replaces it. “Make sure-”

“I know.” Tommy’s eyes meet yours. You’ve never really contemplated how much they look like Joel’s until now. It’s reassuring. There’s a piece of Joel in him. “Just be with him.”

You nod silently, Joel’s words echoing in your mind. “If it’s something else that gets me… where I’m not putting you in danger… I want the last thing I hear to be your voice. Not a gunshot. That’s all.”

You scoot up so you’re only able to see his face. His hand feels cold under yours. You push his hair back again. Ellie joins you on the floor. You can tell she’s barely holding it together.

You feel Tommy prepare himself behind you. You know when he goes for it, sliding Joel’s hunting knife in with the precision of an expert. You hear it slice through skin and muscle. It’s piercing, playing on repeat in your head. Joel grunts with it, moans once it’s withdrawn.

Tommy drops the knife like it's on fire. Maria settles the blanket over Joel’s body.

Your eyes never move from his face. He gasps, air wheezing from him like a punctured balloon. It’s awful. It makes your stomach curl and twist and your chest rattle. You want to curl up and die with him at the mere sound of it. It feels like it will never stop, but you talk him through it. You hold Ellie close to you in one arm and cup his face in the other as you repeat the words from earlier.

It’s okay.

You can let go.

We’ll be okay.

I love you.

You make sure your voice is the last thing he hears… and then finally, mercifully, he stops breathing. As much as your heart throbs, you feel like you can finally breathe again because he’s no longer trapped in a body that won’t work, no longer in pain. He’s free.

You lean down to kiss his cheek. You whisper in his ear. “Say hello to Sarah for me.”

You give it time. Watching his face, finger tips tracing his features. Denial brushes through your mind, expecting him to open his eyes, to smile, to laugh. It doesn’t happen. It won’t happen ever again.

When you stand, it hits you like a freight train. Your breath hitches. You remember this from last time.This can’t happen, not here. You bolt from the room, putting as many walls between you and the others as possible. You don’t care how cold the furthest bedroom- your bedroom- might be, your skin feels like it’s boiling, melting from your bones.

You’re barely across the threshold when the sob leaves your body. It sounds otherworldly, but you’ve heard it before, too many times. You’re all too familiar with it all. When will it end? When everyone you love is dead? Taken from you in different horrific ways each time?

Maria’s arms wrap around you and the two of you sink to the ground. You don’t quiet your mourning for her as it rattles the walls. It’s still not far enough. Your muted cries haunt the rest of the group until your voice gives out.

You stay the night at the mansion. It’s too dark to try and make it back to Jackson. Tommy and Jesse move Joel’s body to the garage where it’s colder. Maria builds a fire in the room that’s not soaked in his blood.

You ignore the curious looks when you navigate the house with familiarity and manage to rummage up new clothes to replace blood-soaked ones. Ellie wears your Fleetwood Mac t-shirt from high school. You used to wear it all the time until you lost it, stuffed into the bin of clothes you never opened following outbreak day. It would be too small for you now, but it layers over the clean long sleeve shirt she found. It’s one of Grandpa’s old flannels for you. You’re thankful you never dug into this bin when you lived here.

Before you leave, you stop under the old oak tree where the small bounder marks Carter’s shallow grave. You promise him you mean it this time when you say you’re never coming back. You’re tempted to burn the place to the ground, but it’s too good of a resting spot for patrol when they get stuck, protected by the gate.

When you get home, you care for Joel’s body. There’s no embalming process. Usually you bury your dead the day after, but the ground is frozen solid. You’ll likely have to wait a few weeks to bury him. He stays in the small enclosed room off the back of the clinic where it’s cold enough to keep him.

It’s after dinner time Monday night when you finally drag yourself up the front steps. You’ve been avoiding it. You don’t want to go home without him.

Carter and Willa play Jenga with Morgan. You’re not sure you can tell them, so you watch your children through the front window. You memorize their smiles and the light in their eyes before this cruel world marks them with its claws. Willa knocks the tower over. She seems to enjoy it. His sweet little Wildflower. 2 months shy of her 4th birthday, will she remember him? Or will he be like a dream? Another ghost that haunts the footnotes of her life? Tears stream down your neck.

“They don’t know yet?”

You spin around to find Ellie. She has dark bags under her eyes, shoulders slumping. “No, I just got home. I’ve been at the clinic all day.”

Ellie nods, peering into the window beside you. The two of you watch as they rebuild the tower and the game starts all over again. “I forget how much she looks like him.”

You manage a smile. “I’m not convinced she has a drop of my DNA in her.”

“Not with that fucker’s genes.”

A laugh interrupts your tears. It sounds so normal coming from Ellie. She wears a dutiful interpretation of her signature smirk. You could hug her, but you don’t. She’s not the most touchy feel y person and you imagine she’s had her full share the past 24 hours. Has he really been gone that long now? Yes. Somehow, it feels like it’s been years, yet you still expect him to walk toward you at any minute.

You go inside without another word. Ellie follows, and you’re thankful for it. It feels right to have her there.

“Mommy!” Willa gasps as soon as you open the door. She runs for you, still dressed in her butterfly costume.

You pull her into your arms, squeezing her tightly. “Hey sweet girl.” You kiss her cheek. You hadn’t realized how badly your arms ached to hold your babies.

“Where’s Dad?” Carter asks.

The question stops your heart. You can hear it in his voice. He knows. He’s barely 10, but he’s seen this in other people so many times before, and he’s put the pieces together. Death isn’t a foreign concept to him. He probably knew the moment he saw Tommy come home with Joel nowhere in sight. Carter keeps space between you. “Where is he?”

Willa squirms in your arms like she's looking for Joel now too. You let her slide to the ground.

“Carter…” You move closer.

He steps backwards. You see the tears sparkle in his eyes bringing out your own. Both your children favor their biological fathers more than yourself. It slices deeper tonight. You manage to steady your voice.

“Dad had a really bad accident while he was on patrol-“

“You’re lying! He has to come back! He always comes back!”

Maybe one day you’ll tell him all of it. Someone did this on purpose, but you don’t know who or why. He’s too young. You won’t have him overrun with the idea of revenge. Tommy is already plotting after the group that did this.

You shake your head, tears falling again. You don’t know if they’ll ever stop. You go to your son, desperate to hold him, but he dashes upstairs, bedroom door slamming behind him. Do you go after him?

Willa’s arms wrap around your leg. You fall to the stairs, placing her in your lap. Your body is exhausted. Ellie sits down next to you. “Where did daddy go?”

You’ve been wracking your brain all day on how this will all make sense in her young mind. “You know how Daddy talks about Sarah?”

She nods. You push back her soft brown curls. The texture has started to change in the past six months. It feels less silky and fine, and more like his. “He said she died, but she watches over us now.”

“Yeah… that’s right-“ you bite your lip. “Daddy went to be with Sarah.”

“When is he coming back?”

Ellie cringes in your periphery. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. “Willa… Daddy died. He can’t come back.”

“Not even for my recital?”

“No.”

You’re still not sure she gets it, but you see the tears well up in her eyes. Joel promised her he would be there. He always kept his promises. You want her to know that her Daddy didn’t abandon her, but it’s difficult to get that across. To her, Sarah is an abstract. Joel is concrete. The thought sends a pang through your chest.

“You know how your heart beats?” You put her hand over your heart. She nods. “That means you’re alive, and me, and Ellie, and Carter. We all have beating hearts.”

“I listen to Daddy’s when he rocks me.”

You smile. The vision of Willa and Joel passed out in the rocking chair is one of your favorites. “Daddy’s heart got really hurt.” The slice of the knife echoes in the caverns of your mind. “It stopped beating.”

His wheezing plays in your ears.

“He stopped being alive?”

Joel’s final strangled breath carves into your brain.

You nod carefully. “Yes, once that happens, it can’t be fixed.”

She sits with it for a minute. You see the wheels in her head turning.

“He didn’t have a choice.” You wrap one of her curls around your finger. “He would choose to be alive with us if he could.”

“I miss him.”

She lays her head on your shoulder. You kiss her head.

“Me too, Wildflower.”

On Wednesday night, the seat beside you remains empty, like everyone is purposefully keeping it that way. You’re not sure if you like it. Is it a sign of respect toward Joel? Or are they afraid to be near you? Death comes in threes. It must be contagious.

Carter sits between Ellie and Dina. They were sitting next to each other when you arrived. Carter still doesn’t want to talk to you, but he will talk to Ellie.

The lights dim for the recital. It’s more of a silent movie of sorts. Rachel plays the piano. The music changes throughout the scenes. You spent all last night trying to get a grass stain out of Willa’s butterfly costume. You’re not sure if it was the soap or the tears that removed the last of it.

You reach over on instinct, expecting your fingers to meet a denim clad thigh, but your hand falls to the wooden chair instead. Your eyes drift out the window. You can see the clinic at the end of the street. You know exactly where he lays, even from the outside. Everything around you blurs. You feel pieces of yourself slowly drift into the atmosphere bit by bit.

Maria drops into the chair next to you. She grabs your hand squeezing it between both of hers. “Hey, I’ve got you” The pieces come back, snapping together like a jigsaw puzzle. “Look,” She points. “Willa’s almost up. You don’t want to miss it.”

You’re back, but Maria doesn’t let go. She anchors you. She knows exactly what to say to do it. She’s an expert in it by now. You don’t see the worry in her eyes, the guilt etched in the lines of her forehead. She doesn’t say it, never expresses the guilt she carries over what happened. If only she had asked someone else to take the shift. It’s the second time she’s failed you.

Willa flits and flutters across the stage. In the context of the play, you’re pretty sure she’s actually supposed to be a fairy, but you know that Willa was only interested in being a butterfly. The costume is the same either way.

She breaks character for a moment, loudly telling one of the other kids they are not where they are supposed to be, and then continues on as if nothing happened. There’s the rumble of laughter and Willa wears a smug smile.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, but when you turn to look, no one is there. You can still feel the pressure on your shoulder. Then you hear it just behind your ear, That’s our Wildflower right there. It brings tears to your eyes again.

With one last exuberant twirl the magical fairy, or in this case butterfly, heals the land.

You squeeze Maria’s hand as people stand to applaud. You manage to get to your feet in time to watch your daughter take a bow and then another and another. She’s soaking in the attention. It tugs a smile to your face.

When Willa bounces off the stage, you pull her in tight. “You were so good. I’m so proud of you, Wildflower.”

She smiles brightly. It's a relief in one of the worst times of your life. She gets close to your ear, like she’s telling you a secret. “I think Daddy saw it. I think him and Sarah watched it together.”

You smile back at her. You know they did. “Me too.”

Tag List: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #woman (joel miller)#the last of us #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro stories #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction

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alimaybankkk · 2 years ago

Text

sunshine

summary: jj never really thought of loving a girl before. it was always a hit and run, but you were something else.

warnings: fluff. that’s literally it. like major fluff

pairing: jj maybank x innocent!routledge!fem! reader

————————————————————————

you were outside of the chateau, chilling in your yellow sundress when you heard his voice.

“hey, y/n,” jj said, sitting down next to you.

you grinned, tying a knot on the bracelet you were making. “hi, jj.”

he looked at you in deep thought for a moment, noticing it was the first time he ever loved the way his name was said.

“is john b here?” he asked.

you didn’t let your smile fade, although you were pretty bummed. you wished he’d come to see you, but you shrugged. “i don’t think so. wanna hang with me for a little bit?”

he looked like he was thinking, but he eventually shook his head. “i’ll just come back later.”

he wanted to stay with you. in fact, he needed to stay with you. but the thought of loving someone the way he loved you was terrifying. especially if it was his best friends little sister.

he stood, starting to walk but you followed after him. “well, where are you going?”

he shut his eyes as he stopped in his tracks. “home.”

you shook your head. “jj, can you stay with me? i’m bored.”

he shook his head. “i got work to do, princess. maybe another time.”

you suddenly looked at him with puppy dog eyes, gripping his bicep. “please?”

he bit his lip. damn, if he knew how to say no to you, he would have done it. but he didn’t. he grabbed your hand and took you back to where you were sitting earlier.

“pick a color, jj,” you said, putting your old bracelet off to the side.

“um,” jj thought. “i don’t know.”

“come on, j, just pick one!” you rested your head on your knees.

“um,” he said, looking around. his eyes fell on your dress, which he loved a lot, but was too nervous to say. “yellow.”

you looked up. “like the sunshine, right, j?”

he sighed. “yes, princess, like the sunshine.”

“it’s very warm today. i was tanning earlier. look how much sun i got,” you said. you showed him your arm after gathering a few different strings to put together.”

jj smiled. “cute.”

“so, what did you need my brother for?”

he shrugged. “pogue stuff.”

“i’m a pogue,” you muttered. “why can’t i know?”

“because, honey, it’s secret.” he brushed it off like it was nothing, but you wanted to cry.

your hair was in a half up half down style, one that jj had never seen before on you, with your ends blown out and complimenting your hair color. you noticed he was looking at your hair, which gave you an idea.

“j,” you said, rummaging through your bookbag. “can you tie a bow?”

he shrugged, catching sight of the yellow ribbon you threw onto the grass. “sure, princess, i can.”

“tie one into my hair, please.”

he sighed and you turned around. jj wanted to hold you close to him and cuddle you, but he had self control. he looped the ribbon around the ponytail at the top and began tying as you leaned your back against his chest.

“you’re making it hard for me to tie, here, princess.” he chuckled, having to restart. he had goosebumps from how close you were.

you almost fell asleep. “you’re comfortable, jj.”

he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself not to leave a trail of kisses from your ear down your neck.

“done,” he said, starting to twirl a few strands as he waited for you to get off of him. “you can sit up now.”

“no,” you shook your head and forced him to lay down, cuddling up to him.

“come on, princess, sit up,” he said, tapping your hip.

“j, i’m comfortable. please?” and for the second time in five minutes, you looked at him with the puppy dog eyes.

he sighed, pushing your head back onto his chest. “remember how john b said you were off limits when you turned 13?”

“yeah? and you said never in a million years would you want me?” you asked.

he winced. he regretted those words every day, wishing he could go back and take them away. “yeah. yeah, that time.”

“what about it?”

“nothing. take a nap, princess. you’ll get even more tan.” he said.

“okay.” you agreed and fell asleep.

* honestly, jj felt like a creep. he’d watched you sleep for at least thirty minutes, but he couldn’t help it. he loved the way your chest rose and fell slowly. but mostly, he loved that you even smiled in your sleep.

jj’s legs were starting to cramp. he couldn’t move without waking you, but he didn’t have a choice. your eyes fluttered open and you turned to him, startled.

“‘m sorry, princess.”

you smiled an ‘it’s okay.’ and sat up. he followed, starting to realize how sweaty he felt. he brushed it off and took a sip from the water bottle that was there.

“jj, that’s mine,” you told him and grabbed it back, drinking it until it was gone.

“someone’s thirsty,” he commentated and jabbed you in the hip.

you giggled, throwing the water bottle at him. “i got to get back to my bracelet,” you said to yourself and went away at knotting .

he watched you contently for five whole minutes before saying, “do you still love the stars?”

you froze. it was something dumb you’d told him when you were eight. you never had expected him to remember, but you nodded. “yeah.”

he grinned, thinking of how cute you would be on a blanket pointing to the little dipper.

“wanna watch them with me tonight?” he asked. he bit his lip, waiting for your answer.

your smile grew wider. “okay.”

he slapped your back, chuckling. “it’s a date then.”

you turned around and have him a thankful look that he wished he could take a picture of in the moment and look at every second of his life.

“jj,” you said, looking past his shoulder. “john b’s back.”

jj would be lying if he said he wasn’t upset. he was bummed that it was no longer the two of you. he was upset that there probably would not be another cuddle session that evening.

to be honest, he’d only realized his feelings for you a few years ago. at least, he’d recognized them. he’d always felt the same about you, but only around three years ago did he realize it was love.

you had loved him knowingly since the first time he held your hand on the way to school while john b walked beside him, defending you from the bigger and meaner kids at school.

you’d always had that puppy love for him.

and he’d always had that puppy love for you.

“right.” jj said back, standing and approaching john b.

he turned around. “stars at my house, okay?”

you smiled and nodded, gripping the grass and ripping a few blades out.

* jj had set out a few pillows and a blanket on the roof of his house. he was quite comfortable on his own, snuggling up into the pillows he slept with every night. he couldn’t get over the fact that soon he would be able to lay his head on a pillow that smelt like you.

after a few minutes of listening to the crickets, he heard footsteps. “jj?”

he sat up and peaked over the edge of the roof. “shh, princess, don’t go inside.”

he watched you look up at him, smiling as you locked eyes with him. your eyes reflected the moon and the stars. they looked no different from how they usually did. well, maybe they did; jj usually saw the whole world in them.

“jj, i can’t get up there,” you whined. he climbed down the ladder and grabbed your hands, smiling at you.

“hi,” he said.

“hi.”

he ordered you to go on his back and you climbed there, fighting your fear of heights. he climbed the ladder with no problem, placing you gently on the fort he’d made. you leaned back and laid down as he laid down next to you.

jj knew how small he made the little circle. he wanted to be as close as possible to you. you loved it, too.

“oh, baby, your ribbon’s all messed up.” jj said, mentally kicking himself for the pet name.

and you mentally kicked yourself for almost fainting at the nickname. he’d never called you that before. “what did you say?”

“i said… i said your ribbon’s all messed up.” jj said nervously.

“before that.”

he hesitated. “baby.”

you squeezed your eyes shut, turning to face him. “i liked it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he helped you sit up as you leaned against his chest and he retied your ribbon for the second time today.

“i like your hair like this, baby.” he said, smiling as you shivered at the nickname.

“thank you,” you said, leaning your head into his neck.

he nodded and kissed your forehead.

what are we? he thought, resting his chin on your head.

you were looking at the sky through the side of your eye and you launched your finger out. “venus.”

“what, baby?” he asked, his attention being drawn back to you.

“i can see venus.” you pointed. he followed your gaze but didn’t see anything. he pretended he did.

“very beautiful, princess.” he said. just like you, he thought.

you nodded, turning back to him and reaching into your pocket of the shorts that were under your dress.

you pulled out a yellow chevron bracelet. the one that you had not finished before he left. it warmed his heart to know that you had not stopped thinking about him when he left.

“you got a gift for me, don’t you, routledge?” he asked, not accidentally holding your hand for a little too long when he grabbed it out of your hand.

“like the sunshine,” you told him, pointing to the yellow.

he grinned. “just like the sunshine, princess.”

“i would love some sunshine right now,” you said.

“i have some,” jj blurred out without thinking.

you raised an eyebrow. “how?”

he couldn’t go back now. “in a way, baby, you are my sunshine.”

you grinned, your face lighting up. he knew the sun was your favorite star in the sky ever since you were eight .

“i’m your sunshine?”

“my sunshine.” he told you, cuddling close to you. “if i’m upset, you make me feel better.”

you didn’t even think about it, but you gave him a kiss. on the lips.

it was something you did a lot—kiss him—but it was usually just on the forehead or on the cheek.

he froze. you sat up. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to—”

but he smashed his lips against yours, drowning you in passion and love.

“i love you, baby.” he told you.

“i love you, too, jj,” you said, smiling wide.

“oh and this bracelet reminds me…” he started, reaching into his pocket. he pulled out a neckless. it was made with clay beads, a type of bead you enjoyed.

it was yellow.

“i made it for you.” he told you as he adjusted it onto your neck.

* a/n: so fluffy

part 2? idrk

#jj x reader #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jj mayback imagine #jj obx #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x reader #john b #jj maybank x routledge!reader

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

Note

So, I am begging you here, pls tell me that Ikkaku and Yumichika are still bffs on this AU. I need the violent miss- and yet perfectly matched bastards to still be forever ride-and-die with each other.

Also, all the dropped tidbits relating to Yumichika are gold and I am hoarding them like a squirrel hoards his nuts for winter.

They are actually, for real, legally married.

Ikkaku was 500% ready to fight the entire Gotei-13 when he took the 628-year old marriage certificate he and Yumichika had gotten in 72 North to the Seireitei Records Office to be honored.

Instead, the sole hiccup in the process was the young lady behind the counter asking him to spell Yumichika's surname for her as this document seems to have been... stained, at some point.

"-That's not... Blood, is it?" She asks, concerned.

"Uh. It's actually. Um. Soy Sauce." Ikkaku mumbles.

It would have been less embarrassing if it had been blood.

Turns out, Gay marriage- and indeed, divorce, or changing your name, or gender, or becoming the third, fourth or seventeenth parent/legal guardian to a kid is a nonissue in soul society, because someone complained *once* and Yamamoto declared that, one, he didn't care, and two, the rest of the military commanders were hired off death row, and *this* is what you're complaining about? Fuck off.

But here are some Yumichika Fun Facts:

Everyone in the 11th division has really, really good personal hygiene and well-cared for hands, feet and nails because Yumichika's mother was a doctor at a rural hospital and put the fear of dysentery, cholera, pneumonia, tetanus, sepsis, trench rot and necrosis into him even more than fear of the gods, and he very much continued this sanitary evangelism.

Yumichika's other mother was a drag queen at the brothel that adjoined the hospital and taught him all about hair, makeup, poisons, manners, alley fights, how to play the shamisen, how to make a knife out of anything, flower arrangement and how to curse the hell out of a motherfucker of it comes to that.

Kubo was wrong Yumichika looks out for all his sisters not just his cis-ters.

Kenpachi was friends with Yumichika before either of the ever knew Ikkaku. He met Yumichika shortly after adopting Yachiru when Yumichika saved him from drowning in the river that ran through his home village.

Kenpachi asked Yumichika what he could do in gratitude for saving his life, and Yumichika, seeing his sword, asked if Kenpachi could "give him a real fight, for once"

They had a jolly little scrap that left Yumichika in the hospital for three months, an almost insatiable lust for battle, and a permanent bald scar on the edge of his eyebrow, which is where he glues the decorative feathers he wears.

It also got him (lovingly) told to move out and make his way in the world.

Yumichika met Ikkaku some years after that, when the theater/brothel he was working at hired Ikkaku on as an Emcee and a comedy act in his own right.

Ikkaku loves making people laugh and is damn good at it.

Yumichika was already considering making a move on him when a heckler pulled a sword on Yumichika during his act and Ikkaku beat the shit out of him with a chair without a second thought, and Yumichika decided he was going to seduce and marry this bald little maniac then and there.

It still took the better part of six months, because Ikkaku was convinced that Yumichika was "Way out of his league" and "He's just being friendly to a coworker!".

Things finally became clear when, having reached a boiling point of sexual frustration, Yumichika challenged Ikkaku to a duel, beat the hell out of Ikkaku with Kujaku, and screamed his feelings directly into Ikkaku's face.

"Oh." Said Ikkaku. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I'VE BEEN SAYING THINGS AND SHOWING YOU THINGS AND SITTING IN YOUR LAP AND KISSING YOU FOR SIX MONTHS YOU FUCKING MORON."

"...I may be stupid."

"At least you're also cute. C'mere you sexy cueball."

-and they have been blissfully if dramatically wedded since.

It was many years after that that they had moved on to a different brothel as a duo floor show act, when they got to talking to some of the other working girls about their travels and Yumichika tells the story of how he got his eyebrow scar saving a real freak of a guy from drowning after he got stabbed by a river stingray, but then he challenged him to a fight because- well, he was young and cocky and a small fish, but in a tiny pond- and promptly got his ass beat.

"That's wild!" Says Ikkaku. "I also challenged a random freak with a stingray scar on his leg to a fight because I was bored and- all due respect to you and Kujaku, my beloved - but he gave me a thrashing the likes of which I'd never had before or since. He had his daughter with him was the weird part- he was a real big bastard, face like a cliff, but his girl was this adorable little pink thing."

Yumichika sits up, frowning. "-seven feet tall in socks, big vertical scar on the right side of his face?" He asked, gesturing to his own.

Ikkaku put his drink down and pointed at Yumichika "-and bells in his hair! You fought Zaraki Kenpachi too??"

"Yes! What the hell?" Yumichika laughed. "I wonder where he is now..."

"Oh Gods, he had the WORST sense of direction! He's probably managed to walk in and back out of the Soul King's palace on accident!" Ikkaku giggled

"Well, if he's the same seven foot tall sword bastard with the scarred face and pink little girl on his shoulder as the seven foot tall sword bastard with the scarred face and the pink little girl on his shoulder standing out in the street looking lost as hell, you can go ask him." Said their coworker Sachiko, pointing to the giant standing not a dozen feet away.

"Look Ken-chan! It's YuYu and Baldy!" Yachiru giggled.

"Yachiru!" Yumichika gasped, delighted.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!" bellowed Ikkaku.

"YOU AGAIN!" Zaraki bellowed, ecstatic. " BEEN A FEW YEARS, LET'S SEE HOW MUCH YOU LEARNED!!"

Ten minutes of incredible violence, twelve minutes of evading the police and twenty-one minutes of getting lost on the way back to the brothel, a bloodied but still standing Yumichika was explaining to the Madame that the giant bastard carrying the unconscious half of her prized floor show duo behind him was, in fact, an old friend of theirs whom she should absolutely hire as a bouncer, you can see how effective he is!

Madame Tsubaki, who recognizes incredible spiritual power and fighting potential when she sees it, and who is still very petty about the divorce from her husband the Shinigami Captain-General, allows herself to be persuaded.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfiction #yumichika ayasegawa #ikkaku madarame #kenpachi zaraki #yachiru kusajishi

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cainache · 2 years ago

Text

that sullen girl ♱ rick grimes

Rick knows you’re younger. You’ve got at least 13 years on him. And maybe in a life before that double digit number would’ve stopped him and he would’ve dragged his mind elsewhere. Stuck to what was “right”.

But he’s lost too damn much in the last few years to overthink this. He cares about you. It’s as simple as that. He wants you to be okay. Always.

And Alexandria is new territory. It’s terrifying how perfect it is here. An untouched world.

Rick knows a majority of his group is settling in, grateful to have a safe roof and walls around them. He’s glad his kids are safe.

Rick also knows you’re one of the ones still skeptical of where you guys are trying to take home in. Like Daryl.

Though, you’ve taken a shower.

Everyone in the group seems to have connections to an olden life, you don’t fall under that. Your younger kid sister closed her eyes for the final time a few months ago, Rick guesses. He knows it feels longer.

You’ve gotten quiet since then. He doesn’t blame you, the same damn thing happened to him after Lori—his reaction was a bit worse though.

He just doesn’t want you to lose yourself. You’ve got a good self. You keep him well.

Though, he can’t find you. It’s making him a little nervous, though, he tries not to show it.

He goes walking for awhile before he does find you, it’s a mistake when he does. Your hair a flash in his peripheral. He paused his walk and see’s you fully.

You’re with the graves.

You’re bent at the knees, all your weight resting on your balancing feet. You’re before your sister’s grave. A few flowers under the wooden pallet with her name craved into it.

Rick knows there’s not anything under that grass, six feet under. He knows it bothers you, even if you don’t say anything. He knows them having to bury your sister in the middle of nowhere under a large tree months ago bothers you too, even if you don’t say it.

He’s gotten good at reading you.

He walks over slowly, hands shoving in the pockets on his jeans. You hear him before you see him. “Hi, Rick.” You say gently, you seem to know him as well as he does with you. You know his steps, he hasn’t gotten there with you—yet.

He smiles small, it’s almost like a frown. “Hi, sweetheart.” His voice is deep and soft, softer than it normally is. He only talks to you like that, and Judith.

He sees you shift a little, like you’re getting up. He pushes a hand out for you and you take it without a second wasted. “You alright?” He asks gently. He can see the color draining from your eyes with each day passing. You get more tired. More like sludge under his palms. You aren’t sure how to move on. He wishes he could take your pain, though, he knows you’d never let him have it. He’s had more than you, you know he has, even if he wouldn’t agree. We’ve all lost something, he’d say. He’s right, but still. No one’s lost like Rick.. Nor what he’s done to stop from losing more.

You nod, your eyes on your sister’s name and your hand still in Rick’s. “Yeah. I’m okay. Just wanted to say hi to her, I guess..” Your voice fades off and your shoulders sink. He can see you roll your eyes at yourself. He hates when you’re cruel to yourself. You need to give you more credit.

Rick frowns gently. He squeezes your hand before letting it go, and his arm slips over your shoulders instead. His fingers mess gently with the ends of your hair, it’s gotten longer since he’s met you. It’s been years.

You sigh and lean into him, “sorry I disappeared. Should’ve told you I was heading out.” You know him too damn well. His worries. His fears.

Yeah, he feels good in Alexandria, but old habits never die.

He hums, pulling you even closer, if possible. His eyes are on your sister’s name. “Don’t apologize. I get it.”

You hum gently and finally look away from your sister’s empty grave. Your arms weave around Rick’s waist and you push your face softly into his side. His chin leans down on the crown of your head. He feels you hold onto him tighter.

“Things are okay, right?” You whisper into his clothed skin.

They are, for now at least.

He nods against your head, his other arm wrapping around you. “Yeah,” he says soft and quiet. “Everything’s alright, baby.”

He kisses your head. You squeeze him even tighter, makes his lungs feel like they’re going to pop with admiration.

You’re a strong sullen girl, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

#the walking dead #the walking dead rick #rick grimes x reader #twd rick #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x you #rick grimes #rick grimes blurb #rick grimes x y/n #andrew lincoln #andrew lincoln x reader #andrew lincoln x y/n #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead series #the walking dead blurb #the walking dead s5 #the walking dead s6 #soph’s place

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kimetsu-chan · 10 months ago

Note

My request like usual, would be a KIMETSU NO YAIBA + TEEN!READER {Platonic}

The setting is {Reader}, a rank Hinoto who is around 13-14 years old

Now this Oneshot would be placed around a little after Kamado Tanjiro & his sister Kamado Nezuko, along with his friends join the Demon Slayer Corps

Now {Reader} has been apart of the Corps for a while, could be 2-3 years- and lately Master Kagaya has taken notice of them for their skill

Typically becoming a Hashira would take about 5 years, while gifted swordsmen take only 2- and that was about the same amount it took for {Reader} to climb up the ranks

Now before this there has already been an established relationship with them & the Hashira- somehow {Reader} has been able to build a connection with each one, even if it’s only a small amount

Hashira like Kanroji Mitsuri, Tokito Muichiro & Rengoku were one of the first to take the most liking to {Reader} with a sibling/parental-like relationship with them, of course some others like Iguro Obanai & Shinazugawa Sanemi were the more difficult ones to get along with, especially since {Reader} isn’t a Hashira [Yet] so trying to find time to atleast interact with a few of them was hard enough

Though lately as they’ve climbed up the ranks, they’ve been getting special treatment [If the Hashira don’t actively train Demon Slayers, & only during the Training Arc did that happen] for example we could take Shinazugawa Sanemi, who would drag {Reader} out between 3-4 in the morning to train with them [After forcing them to sleep in his estate, saying he “Didn’t want {Reader} stumbling around the damn place, making noise & waking him up”] & to tell you from {Reader}’s experience he does not go easy on them at any time of the day-

Or maybe for something more nonchalant, Kanroji Misturi & Rengoku Kyōjurō will drag you along with them to go into small towns, visiting local restaurants which know both, especially the Flame Hashira, for yelling “Tasty” all the time & getting weird looks or almost getting kicked out for it-or the Love Hashira for having such a large appetite, where there would be sometimes Kanroji would eat almost all of the restaurants food- [and you would be in the background eating quietly while dishes pile up around you like: 🧍🏽]

For Tokito you would mostly sit with him while he cloud-gazed, most of the time it was quiet since he could barley hold a conversation before forgetting you were even talking, or you two would make origami airplanes together & see which one’s would go the farthest on windy days. Some times he would be very blunt about your skills & even insult you [Though he shows his appreciation for you in his own ways]

And Kochō Shinobu loves to show you how her different poisons work & which are most lethal, as well as how to patch up wounds. Apparently she loves ghost stories and always tells you one-wether it’s a long narrative or not- especially if you are not of Japanese descent & also enjoys hearing of your culture’s tales & myths.

Tomioka Giyuu’s hobby is playing ‘Tsume Shogi’ which is a Japanese game similar to ‘Chess’- he would spend his time with you playing this game- even at sometimes you would get hyped up, a wild grin on your face as you made quick moves- wether that allows you to win against him or not is your decision, though if you look quick enough maybe you’ll see a glimpse of a grin cross his face-

For Iguro Obanai, he would spend his time with you reading poetry, some instances you would write your own while he criticized you harshly- or when he would shyly ask you to proofread a poem he was going to give to Kanroji-other times he would trust you enough for you to hold Kaburamaru

Then for Uzui Tengen would mostly you visiting his estate, while he ‘flashily’ dressed you up with cakey makeup [though you never had the heart to tell him it looked bad] while his three wives cooed over how cute you were & Tengen would be standing next to you saying how ��flashy’ you looked- sometimes he would compliment your breathing style

And finally- Himejima Gyomei, the extremely religious yet kind Stone Hashira- he loves to spend his time with by playing the Shakuhachi- a type of flute for you, or maybe the both of you would find stray cats & nurse them back to help if needed so, or you would simply pet them as you explained to Gyomei what they looked like

Though all the Hashira spend their time with you in their own ways, they all have one goal in mind- make {Reader} their Tsuguko

While some Hashira already have built familial relationships with others, all would love for you to be apart of that! Each one seems to be pulling you in each direction, subtly or not so subtly suggesting if you’ll become a Hashira & to become their Tsuguko, this even caused issues with passive aggression or making others look bad, and they would try to guess who would become your teacher, especially if you used one of their breathing styles

I’m so sorry that this request is so long! I know you are busy so if this is a request that needs to be put on hold then please do so if needed! There’s no rushing, and most importantly just have fun with writing, so don’t stress over it too much ‘Kay? I tried to shorten it as much as possible😭 Have a good day!

-Straberryparfai🍦🍓

~Hashira Headcanons~

A/N: no it’s okay!! I actually heavily prefer detailed requests (if you couldn’t tell already) so I don’t mind at all! I do apologize for making you wait a week for this :( hopefully it turns out well!

I was hopefully was able to grasp what you were asking for? I wrote what I thought they would do to make you their tsuguko and their reaction to you choosing someone else, I hope that was okay!

TWs: Manipulative behavior. This might be them being borderline platonically yandere? Basically incredibly possessive over [Reader]

Oh, this would get super hectic really fast

If they are all wanting you to be their tsuguko, they are definitely going to be fighting tooth and nail against each other (except Gyomei, Giyuu, Rengoku, and Mitsuri bc they’re sweethearts)

Some people (AHEM- Giyuu, Muichiro, Obanai, Shinobu) will use underhanded tactics to get you to be their tsuguko.

Like, Muichiro would talk absolute smack about the other hashira in an attempt to get you to want to be his tsuguko.

He would also like to drag you away from whatever you’re doing to go cloud or bird watching with him.

His tactic is to spend as much time with you as your jobs would allow.

He would often call you Imōto/Otōto/Chīsana kyōdai in hopes that you’d see him as a big brother and choose him over the other hashira.

When and if you told him you chose someone else, he would pretend he didn’t hear you, or forget what you said immediately after.

”Huh? Imōto/Otōto/Chīsana kyōdai? What was that? Nevermind, let’s go train you to be my tsuguko.”

Giyuu would also talk smack, except he would be a bit more tame and selective about it.

He would specifically tell you about the things Sanemi, Obanai, and Shinobu have done to him.

He would try to convince you that they would do it to you too

Eg. complaining how Shinobu always teases him, or how Sanemi and Obanai would gang up and bully him.

He’d give you puppy dog eyes too- rlly subtle ones

If you were to choose a different hashira as your master, he’d probably be like, “Ah, I understand. Although that is a disappointment.”

Obanai’s underhanded tactics are more upper handed tactics if you wanna think about it literally-

He would wait until you were talking with another hashira (probably Giyuu-) while sitting in his favorite tree.

He would wait for the perfect moment before scooping you up from under your shoulders and bringing you to sit with him.

He may be physically weak, but he would play off his sweating as the sun being too hot.

Obanai would then start boasting about how cool it was up there and would place Kaburamaru on your shoulders so you’d be hesitant to leave.

His reaction would be more him pretending to not care less, when in reality, he’s very upset.

He feels betrayed okay?! 😭

Like, he let you hold his snake-

“Oh? Well, do what you like. I’ll just have to find someone else who is good at proofreading poems.”

The only hashira he wouldn’t dare try to steal you from was Mitsuri, of course.

If she just gave him her best pout and batted her pretty eyelashes, he’d hand you right over. Literally. (with your consent of course.)

Mitsuri would love to carry you around on her shoulders or her back.

She would tell you that you remind her of her little siblings and that she missed them, in hopes of you wanting to stay with her.

She’d be upset if you wanted to be someone else’s tsuguko, but she would support your choice no matter what.

”Hmm? Oh, that’s okay [Name]-Chan! Just promise you’ll come visit so you can try all my new recipes!”

Speaking of food and recipes, Kyojirou would take you out to eat often simply because he like’s your presence!

He (along with Sanemi, Uzui, and Gyomei) would directly ask you to be his tsuguko.

Well, not so much ask—

“Young [Name]! Be my tsuguko! I will train you in the art of flame breathing!”

And in the case that you don’t use flame breathing, he’d train you anyways since two breathing styles is flashy.

See what I did there? 😏 I’m doing well with these transitions 🤩

And speaking of flashy, the flashiest man on the planet would declare that he “needs a flashy student” and that “a flashy slayer such as yourself needs an equally flashy master”.

Random crap basically-

He would not only do your makeup(terribly)

He would also let you practice on him!

AND SO WOULD HIS WIVES

Oh my gosh, his wives love you

that is reason enough for him to make you his tsuguko.

Even if you weren’t “flashy”.

He’d run around with you on his shoulders, tryna convince you that you could be as fast as him.

”What?! You want one of those unflashy people?? Hmph! Fine! Just don’t come begging for me when you realize I’m much flashier.”

Shinobu would sometimes join you guys in speed training, since she is also ridiculously fast, and whenever Uzui was out of earshot, she’d say how you wouldn’t want to end up with someone as loud as him.

She’d just looking out for your poor ears.

She would try to strike a deal with you.

Become her tsuguko, and she’ll teach you whatever you want to know (in extreme detail) about any poison or medicine she has created.

You get your pick on which one too

And if you so happen to choose someone else, they may mysteriously fall just ill enough to where they cannot train you.

”Oh no! ___ is sick? That’s a shame… I could train you instead, y’know?”

And for the man himself, Nemi would probably pick you up from the back of your haori/uniform and drag you along behind him.

Mans wouldn’t give you a choice.

He’d plop you down in his back garden and toss you a sword.

”Get up. You’re going to be my tsuguko.”

A/N: ILL PUT GYOMEI IN P.2 BC I EXCEEDED THE WORD LIMIT SOMEHOW—

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headfullofpresley · 1 year ago

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 6,8K

Summary: You've been crushing on your music history teacher the moment you stepped into his classroom. Little did you know he's had his eyes on you for a while now too.

Warnings: teacher!au, strong language, age difference (13 years), smut; dirty talk, fingering, oral (m. receiving), innocence kink if you squint, semi public sex, creampie, unprotected sex.

A/N: woooheeee! it's been a hot minute, hasn't it?! i didn't know if i was ever coming back to write but let's be honest... i couldn't stay away. and we've all been slurped into the world of AIs and this piece was born out of a storyline i had with a Professor Presley AI. but i also want to thank my girly @powerofelvis for giving me the inspiration to write again. ❤ love ya girl!

i'm a little rusty but i hope y'all will still enjoy it!!! love you all. ⚡

masterlist | want to be part of the taglist? just ask!

Despite having been born in Memphis, strolling through the campus of the University of Memphis was like walking in a completely different world. Sure, it may not be Yale or Harvard, but after your second year of majoring in History, you had long forgotten about your rejection letters from those great prestigious universities across the country that you cried over when you fished them out of the mailbox of your childhood home.

You had matured. Twenty years old now, you stopped putting so much pressure on yourself when it came to school and the future and decided to go with the flow. You had your group of friends here, a nice dorm room you shared with your best friend and a crush that was bound to get you in trouble.

But how could anyone resist the music history teacher that was the young age of thirty three and treated students like they were his equals, rather than abusing the power he has as a teacher?

You certainly couldn't.

While you had a hopeless crush on the handsome teacher with the raven dark locks and the ocean blue eyes, he felt the exact same way about you. You were twenty years old and even though the age difference wasn't that bad and not quite a taboo, he couldn't afford to lose his job. It paid the bills and made sure he lived a comfortable life, but as spring came around, it was getting harder to ignore the cute skirts and shorts you wore to class. He was a man in his thirties, he has had plenty of experiences with females and bra straps shouldn't get to him the way they did, but God - when those baby blue straps were showing from underneath your white top, contrasting so nicely against your sun kissed skin, he felt like he was sixteen years old again.

He needed to control himself, but as you seemed to have taken things a step further and wore a pair of high waisted denim shorts, a white top with a sweetheart neck and a pair of white high top Converse, he was done for. Such a simple outfit, yet it had him fantasizing how you'd look on his desk, legs up in the air and those sneakers the only thing you'd be wearing.

He was so lost in his train of thought that he almost didn't hear you greeting him when you came through the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Presley,"

Mr. Presley.

He was already starting to lose room in his pants. Damn it.

"Good mornin', Y/N. You're early." He smiled as he watched you walk over to a desk in the middle of the class, your bag that was swung over your shoulder being placed next to your feet. The soft, friendly laugh that rolled off of your tongue was like music to his ears.

"Only five minutes. I'm not your best student for nothing," you grinned at him and then leaned down to rumble in your bag, continuing to speak to him. "I got my paper on the Baroque era ready,"

As you leaned over, he could see the light tan lines just below your ass as your shorts rode up a little and he quickly had to force himself to look back up at your face when you turned around, got up and walked over to him. He swallowed the saliva that had started to pool in the insides of his cheeks, mentally slapping himself for nearly quite literally drooling over you. Flashing you a smile, he took the paper from your hand and sat down behind his desk.

"Paper's not due for another week. You tryin' to get extra credit, missy?"

You were used to Mr. Presley being playful with his students, but with you, it always sounded borderline flirtatious. Or maybe that was just because you were delusional, the feelings you carried for this man getting stronger and stronger every day.

Nonetheless, you weren't complaining at all whenever he had a slip of the tongue and used any kind of pet name for you. You still remember he called you "sweetheart" last week and you spent the rest of the day with your head in the clouds.

"Maybe. Will you give it to me?"

You both laugh and he shakes his head a little, looking down at the paper you handed in.

"Depends on how much work you've put into this."

You wanted to open your mouth to give him a smart, somewhat flirty, remark but more students came barging into the room, greeting Elvis - some sounding upbeat and happy, and some grumbling a quick "morning". Elvis greeted them back at you and smiled, telling you he'd give your paper a read a little later. You nodded, your heart skipping a beat as he shot you a wink when you walked back over to your seat.

The entire first half of the class when Elvis was giving a lecture you couldn't concentrate for one second. All you could focus on were his big hands and the veins in them, fingertips slightly calloused because of the guitar playing you knew he did in his free time… More than anything, you wanted to feel them on your bare skin.

You wanted to feel him. His body warmth, his breath on your neck, his hands all over you… It was like there was an entire X-Rated movie playing in your head with you and your teacher as the main characters and when his eyes met yours while he spoke, you felt as if he could read your mind. Your cheeks flushed a shade of crimson and you nearly choked when he smirked your way, as he casually continued his lecture.

He was on to you, you knew it. But as you caught him looking at your legs that were stretched out from underneath your table, you were on to him just as well.

As Elvis sat down at his desk for the second half of the lecture, reading your paper you just handed in, you tried your best to focus on the letters in the book in front of you but it was proving to be nearly impossible. They were scrambled, jumping from page to page, and your mind was full of Elvis, Elvis, and only Elvis.

You felt like you were treading dangerous waters with your music history teacher, but neither of you seemed to mind it. That tingle of arousal and lust that was settling in your bodies was way too exciting to ignore.

You wanted class to be over so you could walk up to him and talk to him, the paper he was reading that you worked so hard on as an excuse. He barely looked up at you when he was behind his desk, or that's what you thought. The moments you were looking down at the book in front of you, he sneakily watched you through his long, dark eyelashes. The way your hair framed your face so perfectly, the cleavage that you were sporting looking so soft and squeezable.

Downright kissable.

He wanted nothing more than to plant his face right into it and lap his tongue around your perky nipples that were currently poking through the fabric of your shirt.

A white top and no bra? He was about to lose his goddamn mind. He didn't know if you were doing it on purpose, to sent him in a downward spiral, but if you were, you were greatly succeeding.

At this point, there was no more room left in his pants and it was getting uncomfortable. He nearly thanked the Lord out loud when class was over and students were gathering their stuff, scurrying out of the room.

"Y/N," He called out to you as you got up and purposely moved toward the door at a slower pace than usual. "Can you stay back for a second? I'd like to.. discuss your paper,"

You turned around and smiled as your eyes met his. The look in his eyes told you this wasn't going to be about your paper and when the classroom was empty and he walked over to the door, you knew you had him right where you wanted him. And where you had been wanting him for two whole years.

Elvis sat back behind his desk as you stood next to him, putting your bag on the floor. Your paper was in front of him again, notes written down in his handwriting in red pen and you'd be a lot more interested in knowing your grade if he wasn't so damn distracting. When you placed your hands on your knees to lean down and have a better look at the paper you scrammed over for nights and now did not care about at all, he looked at you, his face hovering right next to yours.

"You did a real good job on this, sweetheart," he complimented, his voice soft and low as he kept his eyes on you, admiring the light make-up you were wearing. The soft glimmering shade of eyeshadow made your eyes pop and when you turned your head to look at him, his tongue darted out to lick his lower lip. God, how he just wanted to grab you and bend you over his desk. But he still had to be careful, although he had an inkling that you were as interested in him as he was in you, he wasn't exactly sure.

Yet.

"Thank you, Mr. Presley," you smiled at him, looking at him a little longer than necessary before tearing your gaze away and putting your forearms on the desk to get a better look at the paper and the grade he gave you. A smile spread across your face, but he was more focused on the way your ass was stuck out right next to him, which he took a shameless look at as he leaned back in his seat. "I worked really hard on this one, so I'm glad you deemed it worth such a good grade."

His teeth sunk into his lower lip as he looked at your ass and the way your buttcheeks were showing a little from underneath the denim fabric. The supple flesh of your inner thighs looked so inviting, he had to fight the urge to sink his teeth into it.

"Well, it's like you said, honey," he mused. "You're my best student."

As he said those words, you felt the entire atmosphere in the room shift. The tension that lingered above your and Elvis's head seemed to intensify and when your eyes caught sight of bulge in his pants, you nearly choked. The arousal that had built up inside of you all throughout class was making you do things you usually wouldn't have done… but you figured if you were to make a move, it was now or never.

You weren't blind, you'd seen him check you out.

"Am I really, Mr. Presley?" you whispered as you peeked at him over your shoulder, a grin curling upon your lips as you caught him looking at your ass. You made sure to arch your back a little more, giving him a better view. He nodded and looked into your eyes, a smirk planted on his face.

Before you'd chicken out of the whole thing and run for the hills, you slowly stood up straight and stepped in front of him, planting yourself on his lap. Your heart was racing at this point and for a second, you thought he was going to reject you and tell you your behavior was inappropriate, but as he placed his hands on your hips, a sense of relief washed over you.

So, you weren't crazy. He really wanted you too.

"Yes, you are, Y/N," he whispered as he slipped his arms around your waist and pulled you back against his chest. His face was right next to yours and you could feel his breath on your neck as he brought his hand up and caressed a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn't dare look at him, trying to calm your beating heart, but his eyes were on you the entire time. He even leaned in closer, ghosting his plumb lips along the shell of your ear. "You're a good student, darlin'. A real good girl, but you get a little distracted in class now and then, don'tcha?"

You could hear the teasing tone in his deep voice and his bulge poking right against your ass as you sat on him. Looking down at his hands, your breath got stuck in your throat as he moved them down the small fabric of your shorts and towards your bare thighs. You gasped lightly as soon as you felt his warm hands on your even warmer thighs, biting your tongue as he squeezed them softly. He saw the kind of reaction he was already pulling out of you with such small actions, and it made his smirk grow even bigger. And more confident, too.

"I.. I guess I do, Mr. Presley. But…" You bit your tongue as you slowly turned your head toward him, looking him in the eye. The tip of his nose was touching yours, the way your lips were almost on his was electrifying. "How can you blame me.. when you're so distracting to begin with?"

He let out a soft laugh, his deep voice pulling you in even more. "Oooh, so it's my fault, huh?"

You laughed with him, but the flush on your cheeks couldn't hide the fact that this man had you in the palm of his hands already. Quite literally too, with the way he was softly massaging the supple flesh of your thighs. You didn't answer him, at least not vocally, but he didn't need you to. That cute blushing face and the beautiful sound of your laugh made him realize that you wanted him just as bad. If not more.

His job be damned. The door was locked, nobody had to find out, right? Right now he had you in one of the many positions he'd often fantasized having you in about and he would be a fool if he'd let you go now.

So he leaned in, barely giving you the time to inhale a breath of air as he pressed his lips against yours. And when he parted his lips and you did as well, your tongues touching for the very first time, the both of you knew that you were in too deep to back out now.

But neither of you wanted to.

The kiss got heavier and hotter by the second and you allowed yourself to feed him with soft moans now and then, which he greedily accepted by sucking on your tongue while humming deeply. You could kiss him for hours but eventually you had to pull back to breathe and as you leaned against his chest properly and looked down at his hands on your thighs, it was like your entire body was set aflame.

You could've sworn you felt the arousal tingling in your bones, growing wetter by the second, soaking your panties as his fingertips caressed underneath the legs of your shorts. His lips connected to your cheek, then down to your jaw and even lower to your neck. His breath was warm, teeth grazing against your earlobe before he flicked his tongue against it. It had you letting out a deep sigh and a soft moan, struggling to keep your eyes open as you heard his voice in your ear.

"This what you been thinkin' about whenever you get distracted in class, sweetheart?" He whispered, nails softly caressing down your thighs, over your knees, before he dragged them up again. A shiver ran down your spine and before you could even give him an answer (which you were pretty sure you'd fail at, because you could barely breathe like a sane person), he was already talking in your ear again. "My hands on you? Sittin' in my lap like a good little teacher's pet?"

All you could do was nod but he didn't mind the lack of words. He'd been waiting for this for just as long as you have and he was eager to touch you, his cock rock hard against your ass. He knew you'd give him something he would enjoy later but right now, he wanted to touch you and make those little daydreams of yours a reality.

You could hear him chuckle softly as he moved his hands up to the button of your shorts and he heard you breathe a little heavier as you watched him flick it open. You sucked in a deep breath of air and held it in as he very slowly pulled your zipper down, revealing your panties a little.

"Let me see what the naughty girl wears to my class," he whispered in your ear as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. As soon as you felt his hands tugging on your shorts, you put your feet on the edge of his desk in front of you and your hands on the arm rests of his chair, raising your hips a little so he could pull your shorts down. You gently sat back on him and rested against his chest, laughing softly as you kicked the denim off of your feet and dropped it to the floor. You barely had time to properly relax your muscles because his hands were already on your thighs again, his nails caressing up to your panties and his breath hot against your ear.

He looked down at the white panties you were wearing, grinning at the embroidered cherry on the front. "How cute," he mused, a playful tone in his voice. You were sure he was going to tease the hell out of you (and you were definitely going to be late for your next class) but you didn't care at all. You gasped as he ghosted his fingertips over the thin fabric of your panties, right along your folds and over your sensitive clit, and he hummed softly in your ear. "I bet these ain't the first pair of panties that got ruined because of me,"

You bit your lip and spread your legs a little wider, slightly bending your knees. He was right - he ruined plenty of your panties with just his presence and you were sure that this pair was going to be soaked once he was done with you.

He continued his teasing ways for a little longer until you were nearly squirming in his lap. It made him laugh softly and as you turned your head a little and looked at him, he ghosted his lips along yours but he wasn't going for a kiss. He knew you couldn't kiss him because when he suddenly dipped his hand right into your panties, you let out a strangled moan and widened your eyes a little. His touch felt like fire against your bare skin as he dragged his calloused fingertips up through your folds, collecting your slick as he rubbed it across your clit. You spread and bent your legs even more than before and grabbed onto the arm rests of the chair, absentmindedly digging your nails into the leather.

Once again, Elvis didn't mind the lack of words on your end. He was an understanding man and he could understand why your breath caught in your throat and your head was thrown back against his shoulder as he pressed two of his fingers against your clit and rubbed it gently, doing exactly what he had been thinking about for so long - ruining those panties up close and personal.

A smirk was sitting firmly on his face when you looked down at the way his hand was exploring underneath your panties- his breath was hot against your skin and you couldn't stop your eyes from rolling back, moaning shamelessly.

"G-God," you grunted, teeth sinking harshly into your lower lip as his fingertips firmly but lazily rubbed your clit. "So good, Mr. Presley. S-so.. good.."

"You're soakin', baby. You always get like this in my class?"

Your eyes fluttered open and you slightly turned your head again to look at him, biting your lip as you nodded. The way you looked at him with those feigned innocent eyes made his cock twitch in his pants.

"Always, Mr. Presley. Just looking at you makes me this wet,"

"Poor little girl," he mocked in a playful tone as he chuckled, leaning in closer to your face to press a wet and warm kiss onto your lips. At the same time, he slipped two fingers inside of you at the same time. He slipped his other arm across your waist and kept you from squirming in his lap too much, basically trapping you in his embrace. And you weren't complaining for a second.

Once more, words had left you and all you could do was moan and keep your breathing somewhat under control as Elvis's middle and ring finger were thrusting into you, curling inside of you, and the palm of his hand was rubbing harshly against your clit. You moved one arm up and around his neck, tangling your fingers in his dark locks which made him groan deeply into your ear.

"I can feel how tight you are, sweetheart.. Can't wait to stuff you with my cock," he whispered in your ear, his tongue flicking against your earlobe before sucked on it a little.

His words were so filthy, but it was all you wanted to hear in this moment. Right now, you didn't care about anyone or anything but the fact that Professor Presley was surely going to rail you against his desk. And you were going to love every second of it.

But before that moment came, he continued to tease and please you with his fingers but didn't allow you to finish. This frustrated you because you had gotten so incredibly close to your breaking point, but once you got up from his lap and noticed him undoing his pants, that frustration was gone like the wind. You were painfully horny at this point and eager- you wanted him so bad you could practically feel your bones tingle.

You couldn't take your eyes off of the cock that sprung free in front of your face when Elvis tugged his pants and boxer shorts down and you were on your knees in front of him. He was just the right size and you admired how it was standing upright and waiting for your attention, some pre-cum dribbling down the shaft.

Elvis grinned as he looked down at you, leaned back in his seat, arms casually resting on the arm rests of his seat. "C'mon, baby," he said with his voice sounding deep and a little teasing. "I know you don't talk a lot in class, but I'm pretty sure you can put those pretty little lips to good use,"

Ofcourse you knew exactly what he wanted and how could you refuse? He was so handsome, so sweet… and that cock. Well, let's just pretend you weren't nearly drooling over it.

Fluttering your eyelashes at him, you flashed him a sweet innocent smile and put your hands on his thighs. You kept eye contact as you slightly parted your lips and stuck out your tongue a little as soon as your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, lapping up some of his pre-cum. He hissed softly as he dug his nails in the leather of his seat and you smiled again as you pulled back a little.

"Like that, Mr. Presley?"

He grinned and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his blue eyes hazy with arousal. "Jus' like that, sweet girl. But I'm sure you can do even better... you ain't my best student for nothin', ain't that right?"

His words made you want to keep up the innocent role even more. This man made you perfectly comfortable in your feminine energy which felt even more present than usual, and you didn't mind being submissive to him at all. So you did what was expected of you and wrapped your lips around the tip again, smiling sweetly at him. When you suddenly took him into your mouth completely, pushing his foreskin down in the process and feeling the tip of his cock pressing against the back of your throat, Elvis cursed and let out a deep moan. You knew he was enjoying it by the way his head was thrown back against the chair and one of his hands had moved to his stomach, keeping his shirt up and crumbled in his fist.

Your movements were getting faster and more determined and once your hand joined the mix, he was looking down at you as he didn't bother holding his moans back, rolling his hips up and along with the way you were pleasuring him. He was getting closer and closer and you'd be more than happy to help him reach that little sliver of Heaven, but Elvis had other plans. Once again, plans that you didn't complain about at all.

As he pulled you up and held you by your arm, getting up himself too, you reached out to help him remove his shirt as he kicked off his shoes and stepped out of the fabric of his pants and underwear. This was more than a quickie to both you and Elvis, and he wanted you completely naked. He wanted all of you, but after you took off your own shirt and reached for the white Converse on your feet, he grinned and stopped you.

"Nah-uh.. leave 'em on, honey. I like how they look on ya,"

The shoes fed into that innocent role even more and he simply couldn't get enough of it.

You happily obliged and lifted yourself up his desk, leaning back on your elbows as you kept your eyes on him the entire time, a small exciting smile spread across your face. The sight of you so eagerly and willingly spreading your legs for him, with those white sneakers the only thing on your body, was all he could ask for. In the moment, he didn't think about what the consequences of his actions could be… how could he with how absolutely soaked and ready you were for him? After all, he was nothing but a red blooded man.

"Goddamn, sweetheart. Seems like you got even wetter than five minutes ago," he smirked teasingly as he stepped forward and gently caressed the tip of his cock through your folds, spreading your slick around. He wouldn't be surprised if you actually got more wet in the time you were sucking him off and neither would you - it proved how badly you wanted him.

Needed him.

"M-Maybe I did.." you whispered, a playful tone on your tongue despite the light stutter. You giggled softly and then looked down at the way he was rubbing his sensitive tip against your clit, making you moan at the skin on skin contact of both of your most sensitive body parts.

He responded by humming deeply and playfully, grinning as he placed his free hand on the back of your left thigh, making sure your legs were kept spread. He was taking his time by teasing you and building up the anticipation until you were nearly trembling on his desk. You whined softly, looking at him with those innocent but eager eyes of yours.

"P-Please.." you whimpered softly.

He raised a teasing eyebrow, a smirk rooted on his handsome face. "Please what, sweetheart?"

A flush crept upon your neck and up to your cheeks, moaning softly as you tried to scoot closer to him and buck your hips up a little but he pushed your leg back against your chest a little, rooting you in place. He was moving his cock through your folds agonizingly slow and you knew what he wanted to hear, but before you could muster up the courage to actually say the words, he already beat you to it.

"You wanna be fucked, ain't that right?" he tilted his head a little, the tip of his cock lingering at your entrance as he looked at you. "C'mon, Y/N. You're a big girl.. you was usin' that mouth so well just minutes ago. Tell me what you want.."

The way he was talking to you only turned you even more, if that was even possible because right now your arousal was nearly overwhelming. Your toes curled in your shoes as he teased your entrance with his cock, pretending he was going to push in but moving back up to your clit when he saw the gleam of hope in your eyes.

He wanted you to say it and you knew that in order for you to get what you craved so badly, you were going to have to be a big girl and use your words.

"Please, Mr. Presley…" you whined again, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes. "I want you to fuck me. I want it so bad… Oh, Mr. Presley, I nee-"

He didn't give you the time to finish that sentence, suddenly pushing himself fully inside of you. Your surprised gasp turned into an erotic moan at the delicious intrusion, not even giving yourself the time to get used to his size inside of you. You felt as if you'd simply die if he wouldn't fuck you right here this second.

And he felt the exact same way.

As soon as he felt how tight and warm you were around him, he groaned and grabbed both of your thighs, spreading your legs as far as they could go. He looked into your eyes as his lips were parted, pulling back a little only to slam back into you.

"Nice and tight- just the way I like 'em," he wiggled his eyebrows once at you as he smirked, looking down to watch himself disappear inside of you every time he thrusted forward and how his cock was covered in your slick every time he pulled back. You let out a breathless giggle at his words and didn't take your eyes off of him the entire time, enjoying the way he was thrusting into you slowly and firmly but you wanted more.

You wanted to be completely ruined. You wanted your roommate to ask you why you were walking strange.

"H-Harder… Please.."

He looked at you as those words rolled off your tongue and he didn't have to be told twice. He immediately picked up the pace and chuckled softly as you laid yourself down, his hungry eyes watching your breasts bounce with his thrusts. You could hear paper crumbling and tearing underneath you and you were pretty sure the paper that you handed in at the start of class was somewhere among it, but you did not give a damn.

You were completely focused on your teacher's cock fucking you senseless.

Elvis wrapped his arms around your thighs and got you to plant your legs against his chest as he pulled you closer to him. His thrusts were deep and fast and you couldn't keep yourself quiet even if you wanted you- it was like your body was on autopilot at this point. Every time he thrusted into you, he pulled a moan or curse word out of you.

Once again, just before you could reach your breaking point, he pulled out and away from you. You widened your eyes a little and whined, about to protest but Elvis didn't give you the time to as he gently pulled you off of the desk and turned you around. He moved his hands up your stomach as your back was pressed against his chest, his large hands squeezing your breasts.

"Bend over, baby. Let me see that pretty little ass of yours," he whispered in your ear and your eyes nearly rolled in the back of your head at his words alone.

You did as told, bending over the desk and he smirked as he brought a hand to your ass, caressing it gently before he moved that hand lower to your thigh and raised it on the edge of his desk. You worked with him, putting your knee on the desk to give him the perfect view of your ass and pussy on full display. You heard him curse under his breath, waiting in anticipation as you felt him move closer to you again. Just as he shoved himself inside of you again, you looked at him over your shoulder and moaned, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

You were pretty sure you could nearly feel him in your stomach.

"Oh my G-God.. Mr. Presley. S-so… so.. deep," you stuttered in a moan that sounded like music to his ears. He hummed softly and grabbed your foot, holding onto the sneaker as he harshly thrusted forward. With your other foot that was still on the ground, you had to raise yourself up your toes, not wanting him to slip out and stop this moment.

"You like that, baby? Bein' bend over the teacher's desk?"

Your eyes slowly fluttered open as you looked at him, keeping your hands planted firmly on the desk. You bit your lip and nodded, moaning as he ran one hand up your spine and held onto your shoulder, pushing you down onto his cock at the same time he thrusted forward.

"You're takin' my cock so well. You really are top student of the class, huh?"

He smirked teasingly at you as you looked back at him. You wanted to giggle at his words but the sound came out in a weird, choked out moan. He didn't mind at all, he loved seeing you in a position like this.

He wanted you in this position every single day if it were up to him.

"Fuck," he cursed softly as you clenched your muscles around him, a deep moan rolling off his tongue. "Make that top student of the whole damn school, baby,"

You grinned confidently at his words and threw your head back, your eyes closing on their own accord as the classroom was tainted by the sound of your combined moans and the smell of sex. He took the opportunity to grab a fistful of your hair and you moved with him as he pulled you back a little. In the matter of seconds, your back was against his chest again and he had you in a position you'd never been in, but the slight sting it caused in your muscles was more than welcome.

"Play with your little clit," he ordered in your ear as he had moved his hand from your hair to your neck, his other hand still holding onto your leg and foot that were still on the desk. Or more so, he was holding onto your shoe, before he roughly caressed his hand up your leg and to your thigh, to squeeze at the supple flesh. You moved one of your hands down, frantically rubbing your clit as you grabbed onto his arm to hold onto something while he still fucked you from behind like it was the last time he'd ever have you.

"Mmm, jus' like that. You close, ain't you, sweet thing?" He breathed in your ear, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust in this position. Your moans were growing louder but more broken and tears were starting to pool into your lash line. You had sex before, but you had never been fucked like this.

You'd never been fucked by a man.

"Y-Yes… Fuck! Mr. Presley, I'm g-gonna.. gonna cum!"

He grinned at your words, creating hickeys on the side of your neck as his hips never faltered. You dug your nails into his forearm as he squeezed your throat a little, making you gasp as your own fingers on your clit faltered.

Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks and it was nearly overwhelming. He wasn't a blind man- he could see the tear that rolled down your cheek and he released pressure on your throat, moving his hand down to gently squeeze your breasts before caressing your stomach. You were squirming and shaking and he wrapped both arms around your waist, keeping you steady against him as he continued thrusting into you.

"Almost there, sweetheart. You're doin' so well," he whispered in your ear, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear before he kissed it. He kept you firmly in his arms as he grunted and moaned deeply, sounding almost animalistically.

It was all so… primal.

And you loved it.

Your muscles were contrasting fiercely and repeatedly around Elvis's cock and this brought him over the edge as well. He hid his face in your neck as he let out a guttural grunt, his hips stuttering as he painted your walls white. And with this action too, neither of you thought about the consequences.

The two of you stood there for a few minutes, breathing heavily and holding onto each other as you came down from your incredible high. As he slowly let go of you and stepped away, you turned around and pressed your thighs together. He handed you your bag when you asked for it and pecked your lips lovingly, making you blush a little.

"Don't go all shy on me now, honey," he teased as he sat back on his chair. You laughed softly and fished some baby wipes out of your bag, handing him a few.

"I won't, Mr. Presley," you giggled as you cleaned yourself up a little. He did as well and put his boxers back on, grabbing your panties from the floor and handing them to you.

"You can call me Elvis, Y/N. Well, when we're not in class,"

"Okay… Elvis."

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and twirled his finger in the air, grinning at you. "We're still in class, baby,"

You laughed and looked at him as he stepped closer to you, trapping you in between him and his desk as he put his hands on either side of you. "Very funny, Elvis,"

"I been told that I am, yes," he chuckled as he leaned in and nuzzled the tip of his nose against yours, planting a gentle open mouthed kiss on your lips. He grinned as he felt your tongue against his and whispered to you while keeping his lips molded with yours. "But that was my way of sayin' I want to see you outside of this classroom, honey,"

Your heart skipped a beat. Part of you had worried as soon as you both came undone, that this was it. Just a forbidden, perhaps taboo, quickie on his desk… but it seems like he wanted more.

And that was what you wanted to begin with.

"Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Presley?" You whispered boldly, praying he couldn't see the crimson flush on your cheeks as his lips were still kissing you in between the hushed conversation you were having.

"That's exactly what I'm askin', Miss L/N."

He pulled back a little and grinned, watching your reaction. He liked the way you were blushing but he didn't comment on it, instead he kissed the corner of your mouth and squeezed your hips. He was more than happy when you agreed and gave him your number, but he kept his feelings somewhat under control and told you he'd call you tonight.

As you both gotten yourselves decent again, you grabbed your bag and smiled at him.

"Plannin' to skip the rest of the day?"

You nodded, laughing as you looked at him as he cleaned up his desk a little before he pecked your lips a few times as he stood in front of you again.

"Probably will. I'm in desperate need of a shower," you chuckled and he nodded in agreement, laughing softly as he slipped his arms around your waist and kissed you.

Properly this time.

After a little while, he decided to let you go despite not wanting to. Leaning against the side of his desk, long legs crossed and arms folded against his chest, he called out your name as you opened the door.

This kiss felt different than the one during sex. It was more slow and not as feral and hungry- you wondered what more kisses he had in store for you.

When you turned around and met his eye, he grinned and licked his lips. "Think you can wear heels to my class tomorrow?"

Your body betrayed you as you clenched around nothing, teeth sinking into your lower lip to hold back a smile but you failed terribly. Tapping your nails against the door frame, you smiled and nodded.

"I think I can, Mr. Presley,"

"That's a good girl,"

With that wink he gave you, you were sure Elvis Presley was going to be the only thing on your mind for the rest of the day.

And hopefully, you were going to be on his too.

taglist: @powerofelvis @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @dollksj @webbedwebs @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley @ccab

#elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley smut #elvis smut #elvis presley x y/n #elvis x y/n #elvis presley au #elvis au #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #elvis ai #elvis presley ai #elvis fans #elvis presley fans #elvis #elvis presley #tamwrites

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all-pacas · 3 months ago

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not me losing my mind about timelines

Okay i think we've all joked about how Chase being 26, per House, in Cursed, makes no sense. But I'm watching it and even in the episode the timeline is all over the place.

First, a line in Damned if you Do:

CHASE: My mother's been dead ten years.

Now for Cursed:

HOUSE: [Chase avoiding his dad] can't just be about the divorce. It's been fifteen years, and mom's been dead for ten of them.

And a bit later:

CHASE: I was fifteen years old when you walked out. Now you’re walking back in?

Per House, Rowan divorced his wife when Chase would have been around eleven, not fifteen, but Chase makes it sound like the divorce was when he was fifteen. This would also make his "mum's been dead ten years" thing inconsistent with him being 26, unless she died the same year as the divorce.

S2 has a bit of a retcon, having Chase say in episode two that he's actually 30. And in this case and in the case of House's timeline, I am more inclined to trust Chase's word on this. He lived it, after all.

In The Mistake, Chase tells Kayla:

CHASE: Dad left, mum crawled inside a bottle. Made for a great year twelve of high school.

Which does make it sound like the divorce and death happened in the same year, when he was 17-18.

Chase's age getting quietly bumped up a few years, though, does solve the timeline problem: if he's 29 in S1, then the divorce happening when he was 15 and his mother dying "ten years prior" actually kind of works out. It would put him at 19, which is a little too old for other reasons (he has to get to seminary, drop out, and start med school), but if we assume it's not literally ten/fifteen years, it works. So does, in a way, the idea that Chase went straight from high school to seminary: his mother had just died and it was a Reaction.

And then S8 throws us a whole new timeline mess: the Younger Sister Retcon. To be fair, this doesn't really contradict anything, but it means that his sister is actually very young:

CHASE: My dad left me alone to take care of my alcoholic mum and raise my baby sister. I was just a teenager. I spent half my time changing diapers and the other half cleaning up my mum's vomit.

In order to make this work (divorce, sister being young enough to not be potty trained), Chase and his sister must be at least 12-13 years apart, for her to still be "in diapers" when he's 15.

So in conclusion (this is so rough):

1975, ish: Bobby Chase is born. 1988: Baby Sister Chase is born. 1990: The Divorce. Chase is 15, and taking care of his mother and sister. 1993: Mother dies. Chase is in his last year of high school. Sister is five. 1993-1994: Chase runs to England and tries seminary. Sister is presumably taken in by Rowan.

Here is where the timeline completely falls apart: Chase starts working for House in 2002. It is a fellowship program, he's not actually expected to be a Fully Trained Doctor at this point… but he still has eight years at best to do university, med school, and his residency.

If we assume Rowan pulled every single string and Chase went the full nepobaby route, skipping his undergraduate entirely, somehow, and going straight to med school in 1994…

1997: Chase finishes med school and starts his residency. 2001: Chase finishes his residency and starts a fellowship. 2003: Chase applies for House's fellowship program.

It almost! Almost! works!

Except then they went and made him a fucking surgeon.

The only way (besides truly illogical — and timeline bending, like, Chase-in-med-school-while-dealing-with-his-mother-and-sister bending) this works is if Chase actually is not a surgeon. Yet.

2001: Chase finishes his intensivist residency, and starts training to be a surgeon. 2003: Chase moves to New Jersey to work for House. 2004: Show starts. Fall 2005: Chase tells a patient he's 30. 2007: Chase is moved to the OR after getting fired from Diagnostics, where he's actually a surgical resident or maybe, somehow, impossibly in a fellowship. House doesn't care he's not fully qualified yet. Cuddy pulls strings so that his partial training in Australia carries over to New Jersey, I don't know how it'd work. Go with it. By this measure, he finishes his five year surgical residency in… 2009: Almost immediately after getting his qualifications, Chase moves back to diagnostics. 2012: Chase reveals his sister exists and has spent half her life in rehab. She is in her early twenties at best.

If you want to push the timeline back to make it work a little more smoothly, you could probably manage an extra year or so. House being completely wrong about Chase's age seems fine, tbh: the show itself retconned this, and he makes a lot of jokes about Chase being prepubescent, not being old enough to shave, etc. — I can handwave his "he's 26" as House shorthand for "he's a child." Likewise, I'm okay with Chase being 31 but rounding his age down for a patient. He's absolutely vain enough.

Don't even get me started on the whole "he's a cardiologist" thing. He's not. It never comes up in the show. This is barely holding together as it is. Don't do this to me.

#for what it's worth i also think - although it's never mentioned - cameron is at least a year older than chase #like yes both actors are MUCH younger. in s1 they said chase was 26 because JS was 26. iirc JM is the same age.#but no in my head cameron is a year older than he is for sure #and they're both 5-6 years older than their actors #meanwhile foreman is the oldest of the trio and cares a lot about that fact #malpractice posting #robert chase

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yourlocalgayfrogboy · 1 year ago

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Imagine 19-year-old Hawks trying to set up his 33-year-old milf of a mother with Endeavor.

Requested: No

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x reader Hawks x mother!reader

Word count: 666

Part: 1/?

"C'mon Endeavor I meant it's been awhile since you've been out on an actual date. Plus she's hot all the men and women fall for her. Except me because granted it'd be weird if I did. But that's besides the point. I told her I'd bring you around and she's even going out of her way and making enough food for you."

Hawks a 19-year-old pro hero currently climbing the ranks faster than mankind.

"Do you even know what 'no' means Hawks?"

Endeavor a 41-year-old pro hero currently ranking number 2 for the last 20 years.

"I know what it means, but I just happen to be very pressitant. Anyways, will you please come? I don't want to seem like I'm a liar to her. I've put that woman through enough trouble as is." Quirking his eyebrow.

'Damn bird' "Fine. I will meet this woman you just can't seem to stop talking about." He broke the mans rough exterior just to see him happy more like his mother happy.

****

Y/N POV

My son told me that he invited someone over for me to meet. Of course I'm skeptical but seeing his smile made me remember what this lavish life was all for. I had made a big dinner for this special guest that Keigo never seems to never stop talking about. I shook my head with smile while setting everything up. I'd tapped back in my American roots and made some of his favorites along with the mysterious mans favorite foods. One thing you learned from being a teen mom was knowing how to cook and how to work your butt off. I looked up towards the clock and saw that it was almost time that my idiot son would be coming home. "Guess I'd better get dressed appropriate clothing so I don't look like some simple housewife." I said to no one. I went to my bedroom which also happens to be the master. Stretching my back I went towards my closet choosing to dress less 'mom' like and more of a young person. "I guess maybe that flowy summer dress will be good. Maybe I'll also put my hair up in a simple ponytail." After dressing I heard the door open and I heard my son's voice along with a rough males.

"I'm home and I brought the guy I was talking about." Keigo yelled out. Walking out bringing the laundry basket from his room out. I can never stopping being 'Mom' I've been stuck in that position for the last 19 years. "Really...ugh do you have to do my laundry?" Such dread coming out of his voice. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well?" He looked between me and the guy for a few times and sped off. Anger quickly engulfed my figure, "Keigo Jackson Ross Takami! Get your ass back out here and so I swear to god don't give me attitude like your 13 again. I put you in this world I can easily take you out!" The teen dejectedly came back looking at me with his puppy dog eyes. "Show our guest some respect." I narrowed my eyes on him.

"But Mo-"

"Absolutely not." Lifting my brow at him.

He guestered towards the man, "Endeavor this my mom Y/N. Mom this is Endeavor other wise known as Enji Todoroki." The man stepped to me and shook my hand.

"Your his mom?" I nodded "Hats off to you for I'm guessing being a teen mom and raising whatever that is." Looking at what he pointed towards which was my son dancing with a broom.

"I tend to not question his ways and just simply go with it. Anyways I apologize for him. He's had it rough ever since he found at who his dad was and what that putrid excuse of man he is and what he did to me at the young age of 14. He found out 3 months ago and has been well doing that."

#endeavor x reader #frogwrites #fanfiction #enji todoroki x reader #enji x reader #x reader #hawks x reader

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loppytaffy · 12 days ago

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Deadpool (2013) #13

I do love these throwback comics. But by basing a comic in 70s, it does place his birth year at 1950, at least (joined spec-ops at 19, was in for 10yrs, assuming he became Deadpool in the same year he left, and be generous and say this was 1979 and he's only just gotten out of Weapon X). My man is old as balls.

Iron Fist continues to understand Deadpool like one understands that if you don't give a husky attention, it will chew on your walls.

Oof

"Baby".

Make what? Which of the 3?? Wade do have a kidnap kink????

And like that, Ellie almost wasn't born (also, why show her conception in the 70s? She'd be in her 30s by the time they introduced her)

That makes 3. Wade is exceptionally horny in this comic.

Or not, I guess

Damn. Wade can add blackfishing to his list of social crimes.

#deadpool #wade wilson #iron fist #danny rand #power man #luke cage #carmelita camacho

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strangersteddierthings · 2 years ago

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Prompt number 13 for the dialogue prompts pls?

Thanks for the prompt! #13 “I dare you to kiss me.”

It starts out, as most things recently do for Steve, with Dustin. He can't even remember what it was Dustin had even wanted him to do. Dustin had said 'I bet you won't do it' and Steve had replied 'you aren't old enough to gamble' and Dustin returned with 'then I dare you.'

And. Well.

He couldn't back down from a dare, could he?

It becomes a Thing. At first, it's just Dustin daring him to do small, easily achievable things (dare you to give me the bag of chips, dare you to pick me up from Hellfire, dare you to slap the top of the next door frame you walk through) but where Steve is, Robin isn't far behind. It doesn't take long for her to start in on it. (Dare you to take me to the diner for lunch, dare you to be on rewind duty today, dare you to have a sleepover with me at your place.)

It spreads beyond them eventually.

"I dare you to try and beat an actual state championship basketball player," Lucas says with a playful grin, ducking out of Steve's grasp even as Steve laughs out a, "I'll show you state championship!"

"I dare you to sit in on a Dungeons and Dragons session," Will says with a cheeky grin, flashing a wink at Dustin, who is fist pumping behind Steve's back because Steve says yes.

"I dare you to be less annoying," Mike says, swatting Steve's hands away from where he was ruffling Mike's hair, sat between Mike and Dustin at said session. Steve rolls his eyes but turns to bug Dustin instead.

It was a joy watching the Party teach El what dares were. Steve forgets, sometimes, that El is still new to most of the things he takes for granted everyday.

Nancy and Jonathan don't really join in on daring Steve to do things, but he's caught Jonathan daring the kids or Argyle to do silly things. Argyle, who had returned to California to finish school but returned to Hawkins almost as soon as the school year ended, loved to join in, though.

Eddie is the last one to join in the Dare Game. It doesn't take Steve long to realize it's because Eddie doesn't know if he's allowed to. Not in a I'm-not-sure-we're-friends way they'd already worked through, but in a I-thought-this-was-an-old-inside-joke way.

Steve assures him it's a recent development. A grab at being silly kids a little while longer now that the Upside Down can't come and ruin anymore childhoods.

"C'mon," Steve grins at him, "I dare you to touch your toes."

Eddie rolls his eyes in response but drops down into sitting cross-legged on the floor, one finger tip poking at the end of his socks. It's cheating but Steve will take a win where he can. Especially since Eddie says, "I dare you to sit down and relax for once in your fucking life."

It's so silly, this little game of I Dare You they've started but it's also wonderful to watch the kids be kids even though they're all onto 15 or 16 now, and only getting older.

The best part of the game is that it's playable anywhere. I dare you to beat my high score is heard often at the arcade. It's also hilarious to see what terrible movies end up at movie night because someone was dared to watch an awful one. The amount of times they've all had to watch Crimewave should be considered torture, honestly.

Steve's favorite part of the game, though, is when the kids dare Eddie to do things. No dare is too ridiculous, silly, or embarrassing for Eddie, it seems. No ones goal is to embarrass each other, Steve's sure, but he also knows that he wouldn't be willing to attempt a cartwheel in the middle of the parking lot in front of the grocery store. Especially since it turns out, Eddie can't do a cartwheel and just kind of flops onto the ground in a heap. Reflexively, Steve took a step forward to check on him but Eddie burst out in laughter quickly and when Eddie laughs it doesn't take long for everyone to join.

He's got an infectious laugh.

He watches Eddie fail at cartwheels, and succeed at climbing trees like a damn squirrel. Eddie's jumped out of swings and off of slides the few times they've gone to the park. Recited the monologue Romeo gives before he drinks the poison (from memory) before pretending to stab himself and fall backwards into Steve's pool (the dare had been to dramatically fall into the pool).

Watching Eddie makes him feel light in a way Steve doesn't think he's ever felt. He's always watching, even when Eddie catches him looking. Steve just meets his eye and gives him a fond smile. Eddie smiles back.

The summer goes on. The dares lessen, the novelty of the game never really fading, but certainly mellowing.

The pool dare, when Eddie'd monologued Shakespeare, had been Steve's favorite dare until the end of summer came.

Steve and Eddie had been dancing around each other, and Eddie, the braver of the two it seemed, puts and end to their misery. It's just Eddie and Steve laying in the grass of the Harrington's backyard, watching the stars come out.

It's as simple as Eddie rolling onto his side beside Steve, propping himself up on an elbow and whispering, "I dare you to kiss me."

And. Well.

He can't back down from a dare, can he?

#steddie #fic #ask #scarcrossdlvrs #short and sweet #sorry this took like a week to get to #it's been.... a time I tell ya

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outlaw-apologist · 2 years ago

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The Gang as Fathers (RDR2)

This was an anon request :D Characters: Arthur, Hosea, Dutch, Charles, Sean, Kieran, and Micah TW: Micah’s contains graphic/violent themes Requests are always welcome~ feel free to request anything hehe AO3 link here ___ Arthur - He always pretends to be stern with his child but gives in almost immediately. “You can’t have candy before bed….” He puts on his best mean face that only lasts a few seconds. “Fine, just one piece.” - His baby will learn how to ride a horse before learning how to walk. Arthur will hold his child while caring for the horses or will cradle them in his lap during trail rides. - “I heard a little alcohol was good for babies. Makes ‘em sleep better.” He’ll stick his pinkie finger in some whiskey and will let the baby suck on it to calm down, but only during fitful crying or when his baby won’t sleep.

- As his child grows older he’ll try hard to give them a good education. Not city folk education, but enough to know about the world. There’ve been many times Arthur wished he had gone to school as a kid. - When his child draws for the first time Arthur is SO proud! He shows EVERYONE and keeps the drawing tucked safely in his journal for many many years to come. It doesn’t matter how old his baby gets, he keeps every drawing no matter what. - If Arthur had a daughter I think he would try harder to learn more about women’s rights. He might even visit the protesting lady in Saint Denis and ask her a few questions. He’s seen how the world treats women and he wants to raise a strong woman of his own who will always believe in herself and love herself no matter what. - Also- Daddy daughter dates!!! He would go to all the nice little cafe’s and bakeries with his daughter or would take her on special little picnics. - Camping trips!!!! Every weekend Arthur is packing his kiddo(s) up to go camping. He doesn’t like fishing but he’ll take his kids forging and teach them how to live off the land. When they’re bigger Arthur teaches them how to hunt small animals, like squirrels, with a bow and arrow. At night he cooks dinner over an open fire and sings trail riding songs or tells stories of his days as an outlaw. - If his child ever goes through a tween or teen phase of hating him Arthur WILL cry himself to sleep every. damn. night. wondering what he did wrong. Even if he knows it’s just how kids are at times, it really hurts his feelings. That self loathing part of him mixed with old family wounds never leaves him. - Sorry to any wife or husband of Arthur’s out there – but Arthur would save his child before all else in ANY dangerous circumstance. He’ll save his spouse next but the kid(s) come first. - “When you’re older I’ll give you my hat. It was my daddy’s hat, and now it’s your daddy’s hat. One day it’ll be your hat.” “Hey! Stop playing with my hat!” “Di’ju take my hat to school? Don’t do it again.” - Even if his children are around people he trusts he will still watch them like a hawk, almost afraid someone will snatch them away. - He really hates being away from his children so he sends letters about his great adventures to them until he can return. - Arthur really doesn’t want his children walking in his footsteps, BUT he does wish they could experience true adventure and freedom. Because of this he’ll plan elaborate activities. Sometimes he creates treasure maps and will take his children riding around the state to find a ‘hidden treasure’ Arthur himself buried. - When his child turns 13 he’ll take them out to find a wild horse of their choosing, then he’d teach them how to tame the horse as a right of passage. It’s an amazing bonding experience between the both of them, and he thinks horses are special animals. Growing up with your horse is a must. - “Seriously gimme my hat!” -- Hosea - Hosea’s always secretly wanted a little one of his own. It doesn’t matter if he has a daughter or a son, that baby will be in his arms 24/7 - Literally wants to raise his child as a mini him – in the most positive way possible. - Bedtime stories were chapter books and his children learn how to read fairly early-on in their childhood. - Every few years Hosea gifts his child a new fishing pole that matches how big they’ve grown. Fishing is very important to him and he makes a point to have a special spot where he camps with his kids and fishes for days. Playing in the rocks and trees, hiding in the fields around the camp when not catching fish. Instead of campfire stories he reads books out loud or retells old memories he finds amusing. - “I want you to understand, the outlaw life is not for everyone.” Hosea is torn. He doesn’t want his children to become outlaws like him… However there’s a part of him he can’t deny where he wishes his child would be there with him no matter where he was. If his child became an outlaw he wouldn’t fully protest it. He’d feel guilty, I think, but he doesn’t want to be away from his kid(s). -That being said, his kid is raised with the Van-Der-Linde gang. Whenever Dutch or Susan tries to parent his child Hosea will always stand up to them. He puts a lot of emphasis on Arthur and John to protect his babies; mostly because he views Arthur and John as his children too, so they should act like good brothers. - He would LOVE taking his kids out to see plays or to the circus whenever the circus is in town. He’ll take them to films too though he prefers the performing arts (theater) first. However, he loves exposing his children to any and all types of art. If his child ever expresses an interest in acting or writing he’d swell with pride and do anything to support them. - Hosea is a smart man. He know he’s living on borrowed time. Making it to your 50’s as an outlaw was no minor feat. There’s money no one knows about, not even Dutch. Money that can set his children for life. He makes sure to bury it carefully and made arrangements for his child to receive a map of its whereabouts in case of his death. - “And that is ursa major and ursa minor.” Star gazing with papa Hosea! - He is firm but empathetic. Hosea will uphold any punishments that he thinks fits the crime. However, he’s never spanked or laid a hand on his kids. He’s more interested in life lessons. If he catches his child stealing then he’ll force them to donate something of theirs to the poor, ect. - If his baby is sick he’ll stay up all night by their bedside checking their fever and making sure they’re okay. He refuses to leave their side and won’t sleep until he knows his baby is okay. - Hosea’s biggest fear is losing his child. He’s big on teaching his kid safety from a young age, even if that means using a knife or a gun. - For their 18th birthday he’ll gift his child a very beautifully engraved pistol. The engraving will be a quote or a saying that is personal to him and that child. Something with meaning only they would understand. - Even if his child is a full grown adult, Hosea will come read with them at bedtime. It’s something that makes him feel loved and cherished and he hopes his child feels the same way. - You cannot convince me this man would not put on a play with his children. He encourages the gang to act excited or amazed while watching. He’ll shoot a glare at Dutch whenever Dutch acts a little too excited. --- Dutch - Let’s be honest, Hosea raises any and all of Dutch’s children. - No kid friendly books, his children learn how to read philosophy like men. -Will completely destroy his children in any and all board games. He’ll never let them win no matter how young they are. If his kid starts crying he’ll say something snarky like “Aww go cry to mommy/papa Hosea.” - He is definitely the fun parent though. (At least in his opinion). His 10 year old is robbing trains. He’ll rob a candy store too for shits and giggles, just so his little one thinks he’s cool. - He really does love when his child sits on his knee or rides on his shoulders. It makes his heart swell with happiness. - I don’t think Dutch really knows what to do with children. He just treats them as tiny adults. - He will ALWAYS introduce his children with pride. Because of that there’s this… unspoken pressure for his children to always be at their best. They always need to be well articulated or ready for action. Otherwise there might be a dreaded “I thought I taught you better.” speech. - Dutch really did try hard to make sure his children grew up smart and capable. However, if that ever turns them against him or if they question him he immediately gets upset/angry. - His children will grow up calling him daddy and Hosea papa. Dutch might try to correct them a few times. “It’s uncle Hosea-” But he gives up rather quickly. - Dutch does mean well. He tries to take his children on special or fun outings. Unfortunately it always ends up about him or the mood is ruined with a long philosophical rant/speech. - He is not a completely useless father though. If his child is hurt he’s the first one there to scoop them up and console them. He would bandage them up and kiss their boo-boo’s better…. Up until near the end when the gang starts splitting apart. Around this time it seems as if he’s not fully present and so it doesn’t register to him that his child is hurt or injured. He starts to see it as their own personal problem no matter what age they might be. - His children are brought up seeing him as this wise, smart, powerful figure. They view him more as a savior than a loving parent. Basically they’re brought up to view Dutch the same way as the rest of the gang sees him. He provides shelter, clothes, food, and safety. He is the reason they have a free life. And because of this I do think they would have a lot of love for their father, but, they’ll never feel like they’re good enough. - If anyone ever touched a hair on his child’s head… Without fail they’ll end up filled with bullet holes or burnt to a crisp. He’s not great at showing his love but his children are his everything. ----- Charles - Charles is the type of parent that loves his children SO much he doesn’t even need to say a word. His love is always shown through his actions. He’ll gently sweep their hair out of their face or he’ll rub their back. When they’re little kids Charles will always press a little kiss to the top of their heads. - He doesn’t give in as easy as Arthur does. No candy before bed. Eat your dinner before dessert, drink more water, don’t go off alone, ect. He’s never mean about it. Charles tries to make sure his children are as healthy and well looked after as possible. - What if he’s not here one day? What if his past catches up with him or something bad happens? This is always in the back of Charles’ mind. Because of this he teaches his children how to be self sufficient from a young age. He makes a game out of cleaning up and chores become a family activity. He tries to keep it fun for them since they’re still kids. - Children are the future in Charles’ eyes. He teaches his kids everything he knows. They’re taken on hunting trips and out forging or fishing. Charles teaches them how to make bows and arrows. He’ll tell stories about his mother or his experiences. Most of all he teaches his children respect. Respect for nature and all of the animals they may meet. - When Charles’ child is an infant or a baby he will ALWAYS be holding them. Doesn’t matter what he’s doing, that baby will be on his back or in his arms. He LOVES holding his children. It helps ground him and reminds him they’re really his and life can be good. - He won’t admit it but he loves dressing his children up. He likes to make or buy clothing and accessories he thinks would suit them. During winter his favorite part of the day is bundling them up in their coats and scarves. Charles thinks they look adorable toddling off to play in the snow. - HE WOULD BE SUCH A GOOD GIRL DAD! Charles goes out of his way to learn different hairstyles so he can do his daughter’s hair different every day. I think he’d make jewelry for his daughters and would always be singing with them or playing with them. Charles would be very protective yet respectful. He’d still teach his daughters how to track and hunt, ect. - Charles carries pictures of his children everywhere he goes. On the rare occasion he’s drunk he takes out the pictures to show everyone like “Look at my babies!” - He would be that annoying parent who’s children becomes their personality. He doesn’t talk much but if he’s with someone he’s friends with he’ll casually work his children into all of his small comments. “I need to get some fresh meat for my family.” “My children would love it here.” “I would never let a man like that around my children.” - Charles would totally call his child ‘baby’. “Hi baby!!!” “What do you need baby?” “Oh no, don’t cry baby.” He wouldn’t do it in public but in private???? He is soooo unbearably loving and mushy with his kids. It doesn’t matter how old they are, that’s his baby. - Charles didn’t really have parents while growing up. He wants to show his children as much love, kindness, and compassion as possible. The world is cold and cruel. If he can be the light and warmth for his kids then he’ll do it. - When his children grow up, if they decide to pursue goals/dreams Charles doesn’t fully understand, he will go out of his way to educate himself on that topic just to show them support. -Charles is one of those parents that really don’t want their children to move away from him. If they chose to he’ll respect their wishes but you bet that man will be crying DAILY because he misses his kids. - For the same reasons, Charles can’t be away from his kids more than two days without feeling heartbroken. - Charles would honestly do so well as a single father if he ever becomes one. - He’s a huge fan of gentle parenting. He keeps his voice calm and talks his children through anger/sadness with patience. It’s important for him that his children feel seen and heard. - Charles is the type of father that’ll beat the SHIT out of anyone who messes with his baby. - He’ll play dress-up with his kids. If his children want him to be a princes… he’ll be a mf princess! ------ Sean - God… Sean as a father? The house will be burnt down immediately the first time he watches his kid(s) alone. - He’s the fun parent. He’s also the unsafe parent. He really doesn’t see anything wrong with bringing his 3yo with him on a robbery. “They had a blast, it was great!” - Let’s be real, Sean is more of a friend to his child than an actual parent. He’ll never reinforce any rules. He’s always down to clown. He’ll be your best buddy but he won’t help you with your homework. - It’s fine to give kids alcohol sometimes in his eyes. “Go on, you can have a sip of my beer. It’ll put some hair on your chest.” - If his child isn’t as bubbly or loud as him he’ll be a bit disappointed. If his child matches his energy he’ll be 10x worse. They’ll be working off of the same brain-cell. - Sean loves to dress his children up to look like him. He thinks it’s hilarious. He even calls his baby ‘Baby MacGuire’. “Hello there baby MacGuire.” “D’ju have a good day today little baby MacGuire?” “This is my wee baby MacGuire.” - He has dropped his baby on the head, probably more than once. He felt really bad about it. - He will make his kids do the “two children in a trench coat” thing to rob a store. He literally pisses himself laughing when it actually works. - Half of the gang will end up raising his child while he pops in sometimes to have fun outings with them. -Is he a good parent? Fuck no. But his children will LOVE him and I think they’ll always have a good relationship with him. - Sean has tried to get John to teach his kids how to swim. He doesn’t understand John can’t swim…. - He never forgets a birthday because he loves eating sweets with his kiddos but he WILL forget every other important event. ------ Kieran - I think Kieran would be a really good father! He’d never raise his voice. His punishments are very light, yet he’d make sure his children would know what they did wasn’t right. - He’s not great at socializing with his children, but he LOVES to listen to them. It fills him with so much happiness when his children confide in him. He doesn’t always know what to say but he’ll be there whenever they need him. - If he has a baby he’ll be so afraid of making any noises while the baby is sleeping. If he’s holding his baby as they sleep, Kieran refuses to move in case it wakes them. - He writes the names of his children on the tags of their clothes so they don’t get lost. - Kieran is a doormat for any teenage children. He hates disappointing or upsetting his child, so if he has a teenager who tests his boundaries that teen will win every time. - However, I think his children would love him more than anything. Even if they did do bad things to Kieran I think they’d feel guilty and wouldn’t do it again. - Piggy backing off of that – The best ‘punishment’ Kieran could give his kids is disappointment. If daddy Kieran is disappointed in you then you KNOW you fucked up. Because of this his children end up pretty well behaved. - All Duffy’s grow up around horses. He loves bringing his kids to the stables. Letting them pet and brush the horses. He holds them up so they can feed the horses treats. - He likes fishing even if he isn’t the greatest at it. He’ll take his children fishing or would let them work on arts and crafts while he fishes. - While most kids walk home from school, Kieran always waits outside for his kiddos so he can walk with them. - He always wishes his children “sweet dreams” before going to bed. Every. Single. Night. He’s never missed a night EVER. - I think Kieran would take his children to visit Ireland. Maybe to see his father’s extended family. - Holidays are very special in the Duffy household. Even if Kieran and his kids have to hand-make decorations he’ll do it! Anything to make their childhood special. - He takes special walks with his kids. During the autumn he’ll make his children catch a falling leaf each before they can go home. He hopes it helps them feel the magic of childhood. - Kieran is terrified his children would be orphaned like he was. Because of this he works long hours when he can. He saves up a decent chunk of money and hides it. Only his children know where it’s at and understand it’s only for emergencies. ------ Micah - God forbid Micah ever has a daughter. There is a chance he would decide to raise her as a boy BUT I honestly think he’d either kill her, make her a dumpster baby, or would pawn the child off on someone else. In the even that the child is raised by someone else Micah would probably visit once every six months and probably stick around until that child is old enough to ‘work’ for him. - If he had a son tho…. Micah Bell the IV. - He’s a very cold father. Nothing his child does will ever be good enough for him. Because of that his child would probably try to win his favor until they’re old enough to realize they’ll never have it. - “One day this empire of mine will be yours.” and he owns NOTHING! - Micah definitely has shaken his baby. He probably spanks them or whips them with a belt whenever they’re bad. - His children grow up to take care of him and do things for him. They do all the chores. If Micah needs a beer one of them always has to go get it. - If one of his children ever becomes attached to an animal (cat, dog, horse) he would shoot that animal dead to teach them a lesson. And that lesson is to ‘not be soft’ and ‘attachments are useless’. - He doesn’t do anything to take care of them. Child rearing is a woman’s job. Micah makes the money. He comes home expecting a hot meal then he fucks off. His children are probably relieved that he’s gone so much. - Once his oldest is in their late teens Micah would gift them one of his guns. He doesn’t love anything more than those guns so it’s symbolic of how much he does care for his child. Micah can’t love normally, nor does he know how to show it. His oldest will understand the weight of the gesture and it may even make that child feel indebted to him. - He’s the very old fashioned type that thinks he automatically should have respect from his children. - If no one is willing to take care of his children, every night would be “fend for yourself night” in the Bell household. He’d never lift a finger to cook for or take care of them.

#Arthur Morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #Charles Smith #Micah Bell #sean macguire #kieran duffy #RDR2 #RDR2 Imagines #RDR2 writing #My writing #the gang as fathers #rdr2 fathers #anon #anon request

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dancingtotuyo · 9 months ago

Text

9. the fear of what's to come

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel navigate life changing news.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of potential pregnancy complications including but not limited to miscarriage and stillbirth, single reference to a fetus being a child (not intended in a pro life way), angst, grief, complicated feelings surrounding pregnancy.

Notes: A huge thanks to my amazing beta readers and friends @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin & @janaispunk

If you have not checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3088

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

You know three weeks after your missed period what is happening. It’s not hard to figure out. It’s just like last time. Menopause crosses your mind briefly, but the symptoms don’t line up. You’re sensitive to the same foods, nausea rolls in and out like the ocean tides throughout the day. The insatiable craving for a tomato sandwich cements it two days later. Tears run down your cheeks as you quickly finish off the sandwich and prepare another.

You don’t get excited. You don’t make plans, and most importantly, you don’t tell Joel. You’re 45. Joel is in his late 50s. You know the statistics, the pre-end-of-the-world ones. You can’t imagine they’ve improved.

Instead, you just hope that when it happens, nothing goes wrong. There’s no DNC, no pills to make sure everything passes properly or ensure no infection sets in. You’ve aided many women through this, many much younger than yourself. Some make it just fine, others have complications with nothing but prayer, poultices, and 20-year-old antibiotics to help. You’re not sure what actually does it when the women make it through. Some of them you've buried. Their faces flicker through your mind. You cannot be one of them. You cannot leave Carter without either of his parents in this world.

You tell Maria. You tell her everything she needs to know. What to do step by step when it happens. Since Adam’s injury, Dr. Pooley refuses to practice anything more than simple first aid. You’re both certain it’s dementia. You spend most mornings listening to him talk through different lectures he attended. On the mornings his brain won’t cooperate, you sip tea together. He’s writing down what he remembers, but you have to fact-check it. He’s already taught you most of it anyway.

“You have to tell Joel,” Maria says when you tell her.

You refuse. You won’t do it. You won’t bring him into this. You have this silent agreement that you’re partners in this world, but he still lives in the house across the street with Ellie. There’s never been discussions about moving in together or anything past that. You don’t call him your boyfriend. He doesn’t call you his girlfriend. Making those commitments, those plans, it will hurt too much when the world takes him away.

Carter calls him “Daddy.” It makes Joel smile every time. He’s accepted that commitment. It makes you smile too, but there’s still a little ache in your heart each time. Carter knows about Gabe. You tell him stories all the time. If you ask him, he says he has two daddies. One here and one in heaven.

But you won’t tell Joel about this child. He’s lost one. He doesn’t need to lose another.

Maria fights you on it. She looks at her son pointing out that she was 2 years older than you are now when he was born healthy. You don’t remind her she almost died, but she sees it in your eyes. You still have nightmares about that night.

You’re firm. You’re not going to tell Joel. Neither will she, and she damn sure won’t tell Tommy either.

You wait for the cramps and the blood, but they never come. You hit the 3-month mark, your 2nd trimester at the beginning of October. You don’t cry in the bathroom. You square your shoulders. Second-trimester miscarriages happen. Stillbirths happen, but hope gathers in the depths of your soul, growing with each day. You push it away with logic and reasoning.

Two sides of you war against each other. You can’t bring another life into this world. At one point you were okay with it. You felt safe here, and while you still do, it doesn’t feel okay anymore. The world still digs its ugly claws into this community. Yet, the hopes you used to hold in your mind, the ones you had with Gabe, and the ones you had before the outbreak still linger. In a perfect, uncomplicated world, this is what you would choose.

You hide the sickness from Joel with relative ease. He’s often awake and out of bed before you for patrol shifts, early morning chores, or waking up with Carter so you can sleep in.

You deliver the Crosby twins a week later without complications. Melissa is only a couple of years younger than you, but at your age, you know how crucial those few years are. When you finally reach your front porch, you sit in the darkness of Wyoming and finally let the tears fall because fate seems to be telling you that this is happening, or just sending you another person to lose. The realization hits you like a freight train. Time is up. You have to tell Joel.

You crack open the door to Carter’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep and it relieves you to know he's here. You’re less on edge when he’s close, and It means Joel picked him up from Maria and Tommy’s. It means Joel is in your bed.

Sure enough, he’s there when you creep in. He sleeps on his side curled up over your pillow. You roll your eyes. Yes, it's endearing, but it’s also a pain in the ass to get your pillow back.

The bathroom light is blinding at first, but your eyes slowly adjust as you turn on the shower and steam fills the space. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you undress, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You’ve noticed the subtle changes in your body over these past couple of months, but they’re becoming more noticeable. Your breasts have grown, they’re so sensitive, and your sports bra pulls at the seams. Joel commented on it last week. You joked you were packing on extra weight for winter acting like it was nothing.

Your favorite pair of jeans no longer fit. You’ve mostly stuck to leggings since. You’re starting to clock the subtle changes in your body. They’re happening faster than with your last pregnancy. The past week, you’ve shut Joel down sexually, scared he would catch on despite your sex drive skyrocketing. It’s been difficult.

The shower washes away everything: the sweat and grime of the day, your tears, the tension in your muscles. You stand under the water until it runs cold, slipping on Joel’s worn soft t-shirt.

Your pillow is back on your side of the bed, Joel still on his side. A smile creeps onto your face. He keeps his eyes closed, but you know he’s awake. You don’t say anything as you slide into bed, but your anxiety spikes, your heart fluttering in your chest. You have to tell him.

You’re staring at the ceiling when he breaks the silence. “What happened?”

You suck in a breath. He thinks something went wrong tonight. He’s probably preparing to dig a grave. “Nothing, mom and babies are fine.”

“So it was twins?”

“Yeah.” You had suspected as much, but the ultrasound machine doesn’t work, try as you might to get it operational. You hadn’t been able to find a second heartbeat with the Doppler.

“So what’s buggin you?” His drawl is deeper, soaked with sleep.

He scoots a little closer, hot breath tickling your ear. You can’t move. You should look him in the eye when you tell him, but you can’t. The words are at the back of your throat surging forward toward your lips. The anxiety in your chest feels like a herd of buffalo stomping across the countryside. You squeeze your eyes shut to try and stop it.

“Sweetheart?” His hand reaches toward you, eyes trained on your profile as concern laces his brow.

“I’m pregnant.”

His hand stops over your arm. You feel its warmth so close, and then it goes away. You dare to look at him. You expect him to get out of bed and bolt. You don’t know why. He’s only shown you otherwise the entirety of your relationship, but this is more than either of you signed up for. Instead, you watch as it sinks in. He connects the dots, all the symptoms and signs that were right in front of his face, his subconscious absorbing them, but refusing to put it all together.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

You look back toward the ceiling, tears slipping from your eyes.

His hand covers your abdomen, forehead pressing against your temple. He starts to feel the changes to your body for what they are. You shudder.

“How long have you known?”

There’s not a trace of judgment or fear in his voice, but it does little to assure you. You’re scared. It doesn’t matter what Joel says or does, the fear is overwhelming.

“Beginning of August.”

“Shit, baby.” He pulls you into him, cradling your head against his chest. “You didn’t have to carry this alone.”

“I didn’t think it would last.” After months of holding the tears back, you finally let them out, a mix of relief and fear. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to-”

You can’t finish it. You can’t say it out loud, but Joel knows what you’re trying to say. You didn’t want him to lose another child, and it wrecks him. His grip on you is crushing, but it soothes your shaking frame. Just as you come down, his sobs greet your ear because he’s scared too. Every single fear and anxiety that has come over you the past months, he feels too. Maria’s labor and delivery flash through his mind. If that happens to you, who’s going to save you?

You reach up to cradle his face. He presses into your neck. Your skin is sticky and salty again, but you don’t even think about it as the man you love and can’t tell cries in your arms. You’re unable to return his soothing squeeze, but you lay there to provide any comfort you can. The two of you fall asleep tangled in each other.

You feel Joel’s fingers dancing across your abdomen before you’re fully conscious. There’s no rhyme or reason to his movements. His other hand brushes over your temple and through your hair. Every once in a while you feel his breath and lips across your neck, up and down your arm, over your collarbone. It feels like he’s memorizing you, fear present in all of his movements even now.

You finally open your eyes. His movements still as you look at him. There are tears in his eyes as his head falls forward, resting against yours. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.” You reach out, nails raking across his arm.

He shudders under your touch. “I wish you told me sooner.”

You bit your lips. “I’m sorry.”

He lets out a deep sigh, kissing your forehead. His hand drifts to your abdomen again. You watch his eyes, so expressive filled with fear and anxiety and maybe a little bit of awe and guilt?

“I should’ve been more careful.”

You press your head to his, inhaling softly. “We.”

Joel’s fingers scrape along your jaw, his beard rough against your chin. “I like being a we.”

“Me too.”

Silence settles between the two of you. The wind knocks against the window, but it’s warm next to Joel. His arm snakes around you, tugging you closer to him.

“I suppose you’ve told Maria?”

You can’t hide the guilty smile on your lips. “If it makes a difference, she told me I needed to tell you right away. Pretty sure she was gonna tell you herself if I didn’t do it soon.” You mess with the collar of his shirt.

“How long do we have?”

“Figure it’ll be May. If we get that far.” You say. Joel nods and something clenches around your heart, a need to protect him, warn him of the danger. “You know there’s a lot of risks. No guarantee…”

“One day at a time.” He kisses your cheek but you see all the fear he’s pushing away plastered to his face like a movie poster.

Joel asks you how you are, but other than that, you don’t talk about it. You feel like a weight has lifted off your shoulders but there’s an anvil hanging above your head, waiting to drop at a moment’s notice.

You’ve outgrown your last pair of jeans. When you manage to trade with someone, they give you a look, like they know what’s going on inside your body.

You take more naps, sometimes at the clinic, sometimes on the couch. You’re constantly tired. Maria brings dinner to the house every few days. She never asked, but you don’t complain.

One evening you open your eyes to find Ellie staring down at you, worry etched in her features. It startles you at first.

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” She says.

“You’ve noticed?” You pull yourself into a seated position. It feels like someone shoved a bunch of cotton into your mouth. You reach for the now room-temperature water on your end table.

“You only take naps when you’re sick or depressed.” You raise an eyebrow at her. She crosses her arms as if to say she knows you’re neither right now. “What’s going on?”

You finish off the water. Despite its temperature, it helps. “I’m fine.” You reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder, but it does nothing. At 17 years old, Ellie is turning into a woman before your very eyes. At times, you’re convinced any semblance of childhood has been replaced with adulthood, but there are other times you still see the slivers of the girl you met two and a half years ago. Right now, she’s the one sitting in front of you.

“Bullshit. What’s going on? You and Joel have been acting weird.”

Had things really been that different in the past couple of weeks? You open your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. You and Joel hadn’t talked about telling anyone, which seemed silly. You can’t hide this forever.

The door opens and Carter bursts in with Joel on his heels. A smile instantly finds your lips.

“Mommy! Look!” He holds up a package of seemingly new Crayola crayons.

Your eyes widen with exaggeration. “Wow, buddy. That’s awesome.”

“John Lacy found a bunch of them on patrol. They handed them out today,” Joel smiles. “Grabbed you some colored pencils.” He hands a set of non-crayola pencils to Ellie.

“Thanks.” She smiles but is still distracted by her worry over you.

Carter crawls up beside you, eagerly pulling out the surprisingly intact crayons one by one. Joel leans over to kiss your cheek and tousles Ellie’s hair. She makes a face of displeasure but doesn’t fight him on it.

“You two look like you were talkin about somethin serious.”

“I was trying to figure out why the two of you have been acting weird,” Ellie says.

Joel’s drops to unreadable. He looks at you and you shrug in response. “We have to tell them eventually.”

Worry makes its home on Ellie’s face. “So something is wrong with you.with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You sigh deeply. You run your fingers over Carter’s head, kissing it.

“You’re sure acting like there is,” She says impatiently.

“Ellie,” Joel reprimands, traces of his asshole voice laced into it.

Ellie bites her lip. It looks like she might be fighting off tears as she looks directly at you. “I’m worried about you.”

You force a smile, leaning forward. Your forearms rest on your knees. One would think it would get easier to say each time. Instead, it’s like picking at a scab that’s not healed. You’re forcing yourself to say something, your brain isn’t ready to accept. “I’m pregnant.”

Ellie sits up straighter, her eyes widen with shock. “Oh wow…”

You wonder if the pictures fill her mind too. She saw Maria the night Elias was born. She saw the blood that covered you. Joel’s fingers brush over your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before they run over the back of your neck. You lean against him. “I’m sorry we worried you. We’re still getting used to the idea,” You say.

She nods and then her arms around your neck. She basically knocks you backward with the force of it. “I’m glad you’re not dying.”

You squeeze her tightly, a faint lilt of humor in your voice. “Me too.”

Then her voice drops to a whisper right at your ear. “You’ll be okay. I know you will.”

Your head rests on Joel’s bare chest that night. The full moon sends light drifting through your window, casting the room in a cool glow. You play absentmindedly with the hair on his chest. His heart beats under your ear. The room is otherwise silent.

“I told Tommy today.”

You nod.

“He wanted to know why I was so quiet. Told him I was always quiet.”

That pulls a smile across your lips. “Surprised he shut up long enough to notice.”

Joel chuckles. His arm around you tightens. His lips find your forehead. “I know we’re not ready to think too much about it.”

“Don’t think it’s something we can really ignore.” You nuzzle further into him.

“Baby steps.” He kisses your nose this time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Baby steps? Really?” You flip onto your stomach while you still can.

He chuckles. “Poor word choice.”

You kiss his bicep and then his shoulder. He looks at you like your entire world and your stomach erupts in butterflies and twists in knots all at the same time. You still won’t let him say it, but you feel it every time he looks at you like that.

You rest your chin on his shoulder. “What are these steps you had in mind?”

His thumb traces over your jaw and cheek. “Don’t bolt on me, okay?”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

He chuckles and then inhales deeply. “I think we should probably share a house. I figured you’d prefer to stay here, but it’s up to you.” He searches your eyes for any signs of panic or signs that you might shut down but finds nothing. In fact, you’re so calm that it’s hard to read.

“It would be nice to have you officially living here,” you say. It feels right to say, to think about. “And Ellie if she wants.”

“That was easier than I’d thought it would be.”

“You pretty much live here as is.” You turn on your side, nuzzling back into him. “I’ll miss your fireplace though.”

Joel smiles. “Guess I'll just have to keep you warm instead.”

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