#she's maybe the only one who can fix this

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here?

Summary: Things aren't going as smoothly as anyone would like. Maybe they can fix it. Maybe they can't.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,970 words

Warnings: Angst, discussion of nightmares, PTSD, discussion of death and killing people, emotions, so many emotions, angst, a little sliver of comfort

A/N: And it is back!! not super proud of this one but I'm starting out on a filler so...yeah. Really just setting up for the next part where some action starts again. You'll see. Anyway, glad to be back at it and I hope you enjoy!

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John stands at the door, gazing out at the yard. It’s pouring rain, dumping buckets on the roof. The water has pooled on the planks of the deck, splattering with every big drop that pours from the sky. The weather once again mirrors your mood, your sobs audible from your room over the pounding on the roof. 

John holds his mug in his hands, staring at the reflection in the window. Kyle and Johnny are sitting on the couch, both looking like kicked puppies. They’re itching to enter your room and go comfort you, but they’ve been kicked out for now. You’re not in the state of mind to be around any of them right now, no matter how badly your sobs tear at their heartstrings. 

You haven’t been in that state of mind for a few hours now. 

Whatever nightmare had plagued your mind last night, it was particularly awful. You’ve been up since the early hours, waking from a nightmare with a terrified scream that had continued until Kyle finally got you to stop and breathe. His ears are still ringing with it, his mind still pulsing with that fear. Something happened. Someone got in. Someone hurt you. 

Nothing happened. No one got in.  

The only threat was still just in your mind. 

Graves. 

He knows that’s at least part of your nightmares. Christine had disclosed that to him quietly on the side. Even she doesn’t know everything that plagues your dreams, but Graves seems to be a common specter in the darkness of your mind. 

It makes his blood boil, and not just out of anger for what Graves did to you. 

It boils with anger at himself too. 

It’s his fault you’re in this state in the first place. He should have known, he should have seen, he should have suspected. He should have never left you there. You should have been his priority over anything else. 

How badly he’s failed you. 

He lets out a sigh, turning away from the window to move over to the couches. He sinks down with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. The little progress you’ve made has regressed with this new string of nightmares, the fear pushing you further and further back into your mind. He’s resolved himself to only get worried when Christine is worried, and right now she’s beginning to look worried. If you regress back again, the chances of bringing you out of that are slim. Sure, there are plenty of options to help, but you have to want them to help. 

He knows exactly what will help, you just don’t want it. 

He runs a hand through his hair as your sobs begin to quiet. It’s longer than he’s let it get for a long time. They’re all a bit scraggly and ragged looking, worn down and lazy now that there’s no strict rules guiding their lives. None of them quite know what to do outside of the regulations they’ve spent the better parts of their lives living under. He’s been in the military longer now than he hasn’t, and he’s been finding himself itching for that structure again. He can never bring himself to relax and put the job aside even on leave. He only takes it when he has to and usually spends it training and keeping his skills sharp. 

Now...now things have changed. 

They have no return now. There’s no clear, set time that they have to return to base. They can’t return to base. It would leave them too open to a possible retaliation from Shepherd. They were betrayed by one of their own already, who's to say someone else wouldn’t be just as eager to become a traitor for a chunk of cash? They’re not even truly safe here. 

How are they going to go back to base after this? Can he bring himself to take you back there, a place you never felt comfortable in the first place? 

Where do they go from here? 

He’s been trying not to think too much about it. That’s a dilemma for a different day. That’s thinking too far ahead. Day by day is as far as he dares to take it now. 

The door closes quietly, John’s head lifting to watch Christine as she approaches the couch. There’s a slump to her shoulders, something that’s been getting lower and lower as the days have progressed. She’s struggling with this just as much as they all are. 

She sinks down on the couch, letting out a long breath. Your sobs have quieted, no sound coming from the room now. The silence is almost eerie after days of constant sounds, good and bad from your room. You were doing better. You were looking more alive and well. 

Then this happened. 

“She’s asleep.” Christine says, her voice strained. “Finally calmed down enough to nap.” She covers her eyes with a hand, sitting there still for a moment. 

“The nightmares?” John asks, glancing at Christine out of the corner of his eye. 

“Worse.” She says, her gaze far away. “She's remembering what happened.” 

John stares at Kyle and Johnny for a moment, the betas returning his worried gaze.

“Those shadows she killed...” Johnny says.

Christine nods. “She's, uh, not taking it well.” 

John runs a hand over his face. He knew it was possible you'd start to remember what happened during the time your omega took control. It wouldn't remain a dark spot forever, though he hoped it would. The things you were forced to do are coming to light now, the things you did to survive because they failed you. Taking the life of someone who deserves it is nothing to them. Taking the life of someone who would take yours just as quickly isn't so much as a second thought. 

You're not like them. 

You've never had to face that reality before, and you shouldn't have had to. 

“One of us should talk to her.” Kyle says.

“I don't think that's the best idea right now.” Christine shakes her head. “She's...regressed a bit. Pushing that on her, while well intentioned, might do more harm than good...” she trails off, her gaze still far away. 

The three of them sit there, waiting for what she’s going to say next. He’s not even sure Johnny or Kyle are breathing as they wait patiently for whatever solution Christine might be able to come up with, whatever move she thinks is the best one to take next. 

“I want to take her out.” Christine says. 

“What?” John asks in surprise. 

“She needs to get out of the house. It’s not doing any of us any good sitting in here all day.” She rubs her eyes. “She expressed interest in going for a walk a couple days ago. She needs to get up and moving, start regaining some of her strength.” 

John lets out a breath leaning back against the couch. He’s tempted to say no. His knee jerk reaction is to refuse. The world outside isn’t safe. If anyone is watching, if anyone sees them...

There’s always going to be that risk though, and Christine is right. Sitting in the house all day isn’t doing any of them any good. They’re at the mercy of the rain, but even then, he doubts it will keep any of them trapped inside for long. 

“When the rain clears up.” He finally says. “We'll discuss it more. But, I think that might be a good idea.” 

“What can we do?” Kyle asks, staring at Christine. 

She lets out a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve helped hundreds of omegas in crisis and yet I don’t know why this case is so hard.” 

“This has become more personal than those cases.” John says. 

Christine’s shoulders slump even more. “I know. I try so hard but she’s just so...different from other omegas.” 

“This entire situation is different from what you’ve done before.” Kyle says. 

“You’re right.” Christine sighs. “The best we can do is let her lead. Do what she needs, give her what she wants. The worst thing that can happen right now is regression. If she regresses too far, we might never get her back.” 

“What is it? Tell me what ye need.” 

“Can you make me forget?” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Hit me hard enough on the head I might forget everything. Then we can all just start over.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“Kitten,” Johnny sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could make those thoughts go away. I wish I could make them mine.” 

“I killed people.” 

“I know.” He reaches out, touching your hand. “I wish ye didnae have to. Ye were just defending yerself. Those Shadows would have done worse to ye if ye hadn’t.” 

You curl up in your chair, turning away from him. “That’s not helpful.” 

“Sorry.” He says, letting out another sigh. “We just want to help ye.” 

You’re silent for a moment, sitting there listening to the waves. It’s cold this morning, not even the thick blanket draped over you offering much respite. It’s the first morning it hasn’t poured rain in days and you were determined to take full advantage of it despite the objections of your pack. 

“I know.” You finally say, staring out at the grey clouds looming on the horizon. The rain will return, just like the dark thoughts constantly swirling in your mind. They make you sick, nausea constantly churning in your stomach and threatening to rise. 

Johnny wraps his hand around yours, his palm warm against your cold skin. “Should head inside. Gonnae catch a cold.” 

“You know that’s a myth right?” You say, tilting your head to stare at him. 

“No it’s not.” He says, pulling your hand between his. “It’s not good for ye being out in the cold.” 

“I’ll live.” You say, trying to pull your hand from his, but he holds you firm. He’s stubborn, but so are you. 

“Kitten...” He says, almost whining at you. “Go inside please.” 

You let out a sigh, staring out at the horizon again. The clouds promise more rain soon, another downpour on its way. You hate it, how much it’s been raining. You just want to be outside, down at the beach, going on walks. Your pack won’t let you though, not while it’s raining, even though they often leave no matter the weather. 

It’s not fair. 

You’re not a fragile flower and you’re tired of being treated that way. Even though your brain feels like it’s in a blender constantly. Even though the pain of what happened still drives into you like a knife, you just want to be treated like a normal human being again. 

“Fine.” You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. “I’ll go inside.” 

Johnny grabs your arm before you can head back in the door. “Ye know we just want the best for you.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, emotions swirling in your mind. They are trying. You’ll give them that credit. They’re trying, but not hard enough. “What you think is best and what’s actually best isn’t always the same.” 

He looks like a kicked puppy as he lets you go. You turn away before you can feel guilty, heading back inside the cottage. 

You pull the blanket tighter around you as you stare at the flickering flames in the hearth. The heat is intense so close, but it’s warming the chill under your skin. It’s getting colder at night, foretelling the upcoming winter. All the blankets in the world couldn’t fight off the chill that’s settled in you at night. You know what might help, but you’re not brave enough to approach that solution. 

The footsteps on the stairs don’t startle you in the otherwise silent house, the creak of them audible over the crackle of the logs in the fire. 

“I’d add another one.” A voice says from behind you. 

“I’m going to.” You say, reaching for the stack next to the fireplace. 

“Careful. Put it on the side.” 

“I know how to make a fire, thank you.” You snap, shoving the log in before moving it into place with the poker. “I’m not useless.” 

“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” It’s silent for a moment as you settle back into place. “What are you doing out here?” 

“I’m cold.” You answer simply, not feeling up to giving an entire expose on your current state of mind to the person you want to speak to the least right now. 

“We can turn the heat up more.” John says. “Whatever you want to be more comfortable.” 

I want you to leave. You bite your lip, suddenly not brave enough to say it out loud. 

They are trying. 

“Why are you down here?” You ask instead. 

“Couldn’t sleep so I came to get a snack.” He says. “You want anything?” 

“No.” You say quickly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “I’m alright.” 

“You sure?” He presses, standing off to your right. 

You hesitate for a moment, curling your toes under the blanket as one of the logs snaps. It’s not food you need from him. Your appetite has decreased again with this new wave of horrible things plaguing your mind. “I want to know why,” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “why you left me there.” 

John shifts behind you, silent for a long moment. 

“I got too caught up in the big picture.” He finally says. “I thought that taking out Shepherd would end everything before it went too far. It’s the only way we’ll ever be safe, and I didn’t consider the lengths he’d go to, the lengths he’d let Graves go to, just to cover his own ass long enough for him to escape. I was wrong in making that decision. You’re not like us. You’ve never been left behind, tortured, had to fight your way out of an impossible situation. You shouldn’t have ever been put in that position. We all failed you. Every last one of us.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare into the fire. “You left me.” 

“I know.” He says, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.” 

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, your knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges of the blanket. The words are coming out and you can’t stop them. Maybe it’s because deep down you remember the better times, when he was a comfort. Someone you could trust to catch you when you fall. “I keep seeing them, seeing what I did, what happened. I killed people.” 

“People that would have killed you without a second thought.” He says. “You were defending yourself in a situation where that was unavoidable. It’s not your fault. None of it is.” 

“Can we ever move past this?” You ask, your voice quiet and broken.  

“I like to think we can.” John says. “It won’t be easy, but if that’s what you want, we sure as hell will work to make it happen. Things won’t go back to the way they were, and they shouldn’t. You deserve better than what we gave you.” 

You don’t respond because you can’t. His words float around in your mind, replaying over and over. You want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him, but a deep part of you can’t. He’s made promises before and then broke them. How can you trust this time will be different? 

The creak of the stairs wakes you. It’s jarring, pulling you out of a sleep you didn’t know you were in. You’re on the couch in the living room, bundled under a blanket with a decorative pillow under your head. You don’t remember moving to the couch. The fire is nothing more than embers now, but it feels warmer in the house. It’s dawn, the grey light streaming in through the window, chasing away the shadows of night. 

“What are you doing out here?” A gruff voice asks you. 

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “Fell asleep.” 

“On the couch?” 

“Think I was on the floor first.” You yawn, pressing your face back into the pillow. “Don’t remember getting to the couch.” 

“Why?” 

“Got cold.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you pull the blanket up higher. 

Simon lets out a sigh before moving around the couch to the fireplace. He adds a couple logs in before lighting it again, the fire crackling back to life. You’re half asleep already as another blanket is draped over you, tucked up around your neck. There’s a feeling of a hand brushing over your head, but that may have just been your imagination as you drift off back to sleep. 

You don’t get to sleep long, more footsteps coming down the stairs waking you. A hand does brush over your head this time, the scent of the beach filling your nose. You let out a groan, trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets. 

“Sleeping out here this morning?” Kyle’s soft voice reaches your ears. 

You grunt, chasing the quickly fading edges of sleep in your brain. 

“Breakfast is ready, if you want to get up.” 

You are hungry. There’s a quiet rumble of your stomach as you begin to register the smells coming from the kitchen: bacon and eggs and coffee. Johnny is making the coffee most likely. Maybe you’ll have some this morning. You might need it with how groggy you feel. 

You stretch out on the couch, trying to breathe some life into your limbs. It’s not the most comfortable couch, definitely not for sleeping, but it’s better than the floor. It was likely John that moved you. He was the only one that knew you were out here last night. 

You're not sure how that makes you feel. 

It's nice on one hand, that he saved you from the pains of sleeping on the floor. But at the same time it feels like an intrusion. There was a time you wouldn't have thought twice about it. There was a time it would have been normal and expected and you would have thanked him for it. 

Now...now you're not sure. 

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking from being stuck in one position for so long. You blink slowly as you sit there for a moment. It’s warm in the house, almost too warm now with your body warmed from sleep. Dr. Keller is sitting at the table, a steaming mug in front of her. Tea, most likely. Maybe coffee. You’re not quite sure. She gives you a soft smile as you rub a hand across your face. 

You feel groggy as you push yourself up to stand, letting your stomach and feet guide you towards the smells coming from the kitchen. Kyle guides you to the table with a promise of making you a plate and you take your usual seat at the end of the table facing the kitchen. Dr. Keller is to your left this time, coffee in her mug judging by the smell. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, her hands wrapped around the mug. 

“Fine. Got cold.” You say, resting your head in your hand.

“John turned the heat up a bit. We can get you more blankets if you need them.” Dr. Keller says. 

You hum, letting your eyes close for a moment. You won’t complain about more blankets, more soft things to lay with. There is one thing you wish you had, though. You’re not quite sure how to ask for it, or that it would even be possible to get. 

You jump when a hand touches your back, not realizing you had even dozed off sitting there. 

“Sorry.” Kyle says, setting a plate on the table in front of you. “Food’s hot. You want coffee or tea.” 

“Coffee.” You say instantly, earning a wide grin from Johnny as he takes his own seat at the table. 

“Even split this morning.” He says cheekily, setting his own mug down. “Three against three.” 

“Tea is still the superior choice.” Kyle says from the kitchen. “Better for you anyway.” 

“Coffee has a lot of health benefits as well.” Dr. Keller says. “So long as you don’t add too much sugar into it.” 

“See.” Johnny says, giving them a victorious grin. 

“She said so long as you don’t put too much sugar in it.” Kyle says, carrying over your mug of coffee. “You’ll get diabetes from how much you add in.” 

“Two spoonfuls isnae too much.” He turns to look at Dr. Keller. “Is it?” 

Dr. Keller gives him a worried look. “You might be pushing it there.” 

Johnny’s grin turns into a pout. “What do ye mean?” 

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips as you quickly shovel a forkful of eggs into your mouth. As much as the deep pain of betrayal still aches in your chest, as much as you still want to hate them, you have to admit you missed this. It’s the least tense you’ve seen all of them in the last few weeks. Even Dr. Keller’s shoulders don’t seem quite so squared as they have been. 

A part of you feels guilty about it. It is your fault deep down. You’re the one keeping them all on edge, driving that wedge between them over and over again. Deep down you’re the one causing the heavy weight that’s settled over the house. You wish you could just go back to normal, you wish you could just wave a wand and make yourself okay again. You wish you could ease their pain just a little bit. 

The eggs suddenly don’t taste quite so good anymore. 

You force them down regardless in favor of causing another scene, in favor of dragging the mood down. They deserve a little lighthearted moment after everything. They don’t need to know the inner turmoil plaguing your mind. 

Simon shifts next to you, his eyes darting to glance at your face. You can feel them, the intensity of his gaze just as sharp as it had been back in the beginning, back before he looked at you with fondness. He’s stiff as he sits there, almost as if he can sense the storm raging inside of you as you force yourself to pretend that you’re fine in favor of keeping the bright mood that’s settled over the table. 

Maybe he can sense it. He is an alpha after all. It’s his job to know, to understand. You glance across the table at John, his eyes on his phone as he sips his tea. 

Your gaze drops down to your plate as you pick up a piece of bacon, your heart shattering just a little bit more. 

“‘S too early.” You whine as hands pull the blanket off of you. Cold air nips at your skin, making you curl up in a ball. 

“It’s noon. Come on.” A hand closes around your arm, gently shaking you. “You want to get up.” 

You let out a whine, pinching your face up. “No.” 

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Kyle says, brushing the hair back from your face. 

“Why.” You say, letting out a huff. 

“We’re going on a little trip.” Kyle pulls you up, forcing you into a seated position. “Dress warm.” 

You’re alone in the room again, the door left open. Light streams in, making you squint against the harsh intrusion. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is, in fact, a little past noon. You took a nap to make up for a night of tumultuous sleep, one of the few things you have to do here in this prison. Nap and read. It’s a lot like your life before the cottage, before everything that happened, except now you’re stuck with your pack around you at all times. 

You almost miss the times they were away. 

You maneuver yourself so your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you try to blink the drowsiness away. The nap hadn’t been nearly long enough, but judging by Kyle’s eagerness, they let you sleep a bit longer than they wanted. 

You let out a sigh before pushing yourself off the bed, moving to the dresser. You pull out warm clothes, quickly changing. You have no idea what they have planned, what’s going on. There was no frantic rush, Kyle’s energy more excited than anything. It makes you a bit worried as you step out of the room into the living area. 

They’re all waiting by the door, watching you as you approach them, rubbing your eyes. 

“Come on,” John says, setting a pair of shoes on the floor. “Boots on.” 

“What are we doing?” You ask, moving forward automatically. 

“We’re taking a little trip.” Kyle answers. 

You look at him cautiously as you step into the boots, pulling them on. You haven’t been away from the cottage since you arrived two weeks ago. You’ve barely been let outside, weather permitting. It’s an overcast day today, the world grey outside, but grey is better than rain. 

“Ready?” John asks as you stare at him. 

“I guess.” You say, still a bit hesitant. 

They make no effort to ease your discomfort and nerves. 

You’re led out the door and towards the cars by Dr. Keller. Her face is brighter than it has been lately which doesn’t help your nervous energy. She’s excited too, just like the rest of them. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Maybe it’s the anxiety of leaving after being trapped inside for so long. You just want to know where you’re going, what it is you’re going to be doing. 

Dr. Keller ushers you into the back seat of one of the cars, getting in the other side. Kyle and John climb into the front while Johnny and Simon get into the other car. 

You watch the green pass by as they drive, taking in the new landscape. You don’t remember arriving at the cottage. You don’t remember most of the trip at all. It’s all a blur in your memory, much like the events that transpired after your omega took over had been. You wish you could remember the trip over those events. You’d take green rolling hills over your own hands taking lives. 

It had been jarring waking in the cottage for the first time. A new place, a lack of memories getting there. You’re beginning to get tired of the pattern. You half expect to fall asleep and wake up somewhere new again most nights. You wouldn’t know any better. A slip of a pill into some food and you’d wake up somewhere halfway across the world. 

You like to think they’d at least warn you beforehand. 

John pulls the car into a parking lot, parking near a line of trees. Johnny pulls into the parking lot behind John, parking near the entrance. It’s on purpose, you know that much. Everything is about safety and making things look as inconspicuous as possible. Anyone could be a rat. Anyone could be watching. 

It’s windier here as you step out of the car, even though you haven't gone far from the cottage. Walking distance, if you were up for a hike. You’re not. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, guiding you through the parking lot and towards a path. 

You still don’t know what’s happening as you follow them, Johnny holding your hand as you step onto the rocky path. He leads the way, the others following. John is behind you, hovering in case you slip in the gravel. You do your best not to, despite how quickly Johnny is leading you. He’s more eager than Kyle had been, and you’re sure he’d be running if you could keep up. 

You begin to figure out what’s happening as the sound of waves crashing on the shore gets louder and louder. Your chest starts to constrict with emotion as the trees start to get sparser and sparser, a cliff edge visible over Johnny’s shoulder. You want to run now, you want to break ahead and race your way to the edge of the cliff. Johnny, even in his excited state, would catch you before you could take off and potentially hurt yourself. 

You might hurt yourself just trying to run. 

You hate it. 

The land opens before you as you reach the edge of the cliff. The expanse of the sea seems daunting so close, grey and choppy from the wind. Salty air blasts you in the face, rustling your jacket as you stand there above a small beach. It’s empty, but that’s expected for the middle of fall. All the tourists have gone home, those with vacation homes back in better weather for the winter. 

You’re glad you’re alone. You wouldn’t want anyone else ruining this moment. 

Kyle’s fingers wrap around yours as you stand there, staring down at the beach below. “Come on.” 

The gravel turns to dirt as it winds down the side of the cliff, getting steeper as you near the beach. You do nearly slip as you follow Johnny down to the sand, your boots quickly getting muddy. You’re glad for them, understanding why John chose boots over more comfortable shoes. 

You pause as your feet sink into sand. You stare out at the water, at the white crests of waves crashing onto the shore. It’s real. It’s not just some mirage, some painting in the background of your life. It’s really here. You’re really here. 

No one says anything as you take a few steps forward before squatting down. You scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through your fingers. It’s coarse against your cold skin, thicker and rockier than the sand you’re used to, but it’s still sand. It’s still a beach. 

You’re at the beach. 

You scoop up another handful of sand, letting it run through your fingers again. You want to put some of it in a jar and set it on the nightstand at the cottage. You want to stare at it and remind yourself you’re really at the coast, you’re really just a short drive away from the sea. You want the sand to sink into your skin and flow through your veins and fill every crack that’s formed in your mind.  

You’re really here. 

You stand up straight, staring out at the water again. Your pack is still behind you, silently watching you. You shuffle forward a couple steps, waiting for one of them to stop you, to grab you and keep you from getting closer, but none of them move. You widen your steps, treading through the soft sand until you reach the edge of the wetter sand where the water was earlier. It’s easier to walk on as you continue to approach the water, the sound of your pack treading through the soft sand disappearing behind you as you get closer and closer to the water. The waves flow up the beach, your feet getting closer and closer to where that water stops. 

You half expect them to stop you as you step forward, letting the waves hit your feet. The salty water washes away the mud and sand clinging to your rubber boots, rushing up over the tops of your feet. You stare down at the water, watching it surge upward and around your ankles. You’d keep walking if you were brave enough, let it get higher and higher until it soaked your clothes, but you know they’d stop you. It’s far too cold to risk getting wet. You can feel the chill of the water through your boots as it flows over your feet. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, watching the water rush back and forth, feeling the pressure of it against your boots as you stand in the waves. You’re really here. You’re really standing in the sea. 

You finally turn after what seems like an eternity, making your way back up to the softer sand. All of them are standing in a line, watching you. You wonder what’s going through their heads, what they feel standing here. Relief? Happiness? Guilt? Shame? The wind whips at your back, coming right off the water, blowing their scents away from you. What you wouldn’t give to be able to smell them right now. 

Tears burn your eyes as you make your way up towards John, trudging through the sand. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold wind, his beard longer than you’ve ever seen it. You don’t remember the last time you’ve really looked at him up close. His gaze is uncertain as he stares down at you, trying to gauge your next move. He can’t. You know he can’t and it makes you feel powerful. 

It shouldn’t, but it does. 

“Thank you.” You say finally, a tear sliding down your cheek. “Thank you.” 

You can hear them. They don’t know it, but you can. They think they’re speaking quietly, but in the silence of the morning, you can hear almost every word. Dr. Keller’s protests, John's quiet insistence. 

Leaving. 

That’s the word that caught your attention. Leaving. Someone is leaving. Someone is separating themselves from the pack again, and not just for a trip to town to go to the store. This meaning is different, it hangs differently in the air. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” Dr. Keller says, her voice just barely audible through the open sliding glass door. It’s open just a crack, just enough to hear what’s transpiring inside. 

“We won’t have another chance.” John says, his voice insistent. “We have to do this. She deserves it.” 

She. You. Whatever it is, it involves you. It always does. You can’t remember a time over the last few weeks when it hasn’t been about you. It’s always about you and you hate it. You almost wish things would go back to the way they were before, when you were a second thought, the one left behind.

You’re going to be left behind again. 

“John-” 

“I know.” John’s voice is louder again. “We have to do what’s best for our pack, and right now this is it.” 

The sliding door opens, the conversation over. Your stomach is churning, nausea eating its way up your esophagus as John crosses the deck towards where you’re seated. His steps are slow and quiet, almost like he’s approaching a wild animal. He might be, depending on how this conversation is going to go. 

How are you going to react? You expected it eventually. They’ll always leave, they’ll always put you last and think about themselves first. Are you upset? Are you angry? Is it a relief? 

You wish you could feel something right now. Instead you feel numb. Another promise broken, another lie told. 

“You’re leaving again.” You say, staring out at the horizon as John takes a seat next to you. You need to get it out first, say what you know before he can say it and break your heart again. 

He lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in the chair. “We are, but you’re coming with us.” 

You turn to glance at him, taken aback by his words. You’re leaving too? You hadn’t considered this. The cottage is your prison. You are Rapunzel trapped by the Mother Gothel that is your pack, stuck in the tower for the rest of time. 

Leaving? 

“There’s something we need to take care of back in the states.” John explains. “You’re coming with us.” 

Back in the states? What could possibly be there that is left for you, for your pack? 

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. 

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[shares-a-vest]

'Steve Harrington – Actual Babysitter?' (Drabble Prompt: Fluff)

Eddie walks into Family Video expecting to find Steve lolling on his swivel chair behind the counter and flipping through a magazine instead of doing... Well, whatever actually is written on that clipboard Robin is typically flapping about for fear of the wrath of Keith.

But Robin isn't in today and the store is quiet. Aka, it's the perfect opportunity for Eddie to come in with Steve's lunch, where they sit together and chat. No, he doesn't bring it every Wednesday like clockwork. And no, he isn't bringing along his own lunch so he can pretend it's a date or anything.

No – definitely nothing like that.

Even if there is some banter that some people (Robin) might describe as flirting.

It's just that he has to take what he can get lately when it comes to his kinda-sorta big, fat, dumb crush on Steve. Especially now that the guy is disappointingly incommunicado on their no-longer Sunday Night pizzas.

Steve insists he isn't dating anyone – and he sure is complaining about that fact enough. But, well...

Eddie does worry.

And he damn near panics at the sight of an empty Family Video. The store is eerily silent too as he steps inside and looks around.

"St – "

"– Oovie!"

Eddie jolts with a yelp as the babbling yell of what could only be the shrill tones of a whole-ass human child reverberates around him.

"Yes, buddy," comes Steve's voice from behind the counter, "Oh – well, maybe not Rambo."

Eddie tip-toes forward and places his hands on the counter before he peers over the edge, where he finds Steve surrounded by the parts of a dismantled VCR. In his lap is indeed a human child, a boy with chestnut brown hair who couldn't be more than two.

He doesn't know all that much about kids, really, but Eddie is pretty certain the little squirt shouldn't be waving around a videotape with such force Steve might get clomped in the head at any moment.

The boy yell-babbles again and Steve swerves away from a side swipe to his beautiful noggin.

"Okay, maybe we shouldn't play with this one," Steve says, gently placing his hand on the tape and giving it a light tug.

The boy squirms, and in doing so makes direct eye contact with Eddie. They both startle, and Eddie thinks if anyone was watching, they might say his eyes look as wide as the kid's staring up at him.

The boy points at Eddie and coos with a big, toothy grin.

"Stee!"

"Can you stop –" Steve grumbles, cutting himself off as the boy begins to tilt them sideways. He looks up and gasps, "Oh!"

Steve scrambles upright with the boy, who makes an (admittedly, adorable) wooshing sound as he is swooped up and bundled into a pair of burly arms that today appear to be bursting out of the confines of a navy blue polo shirt.

Eddie blushes, looking back at the boy in an attempt to regulate his heart rate.

"What's with the baby, Steve?" he says, trying to sound biting rather than flustered as Steve props the kid on his hip like it's second nature.

Steve takes the boy's hand and bounces him a little as he tries to encourage a wave, "You know Angie, my mom's best friend? This is her kid, George."

George finally waves and Steve grins, all proud in a way that makes Eddie's cheeks blush. Shit, he really wasn't prepared for something like this to happen today.

Or maybe like ever, really.

"George," he nods, offering a two-finger salute.

"Angie stopped by and realised she forgot something over at Melvad's," Steve explains, swaying now as George looks around the store, "So I'm taking care of little Georgie for a minute."

Georgie?

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face.

"I s-see," he splutters as he comes up for air.

"And we are fixing VCRs today, aren't we, Georgie?" Georgie tee-hees at that and oh goddamn it, now the little gremlin is trying to get his tiny, pudgy arms around Steve for a hug, "Then we're gonna pick a movie for Sunday Funday."

"Oovie!" Georgie cheers.

Wait.

"You're babysitting on Sundays?"

"Yeah," Steve shrugs before looking down at George with a fond smile, "I kinda like it, y'know?"

[baronessvonglitter]

Daddy Can Fix It

handyman!Joel Miller x fem!plus size!Reader

Word count: 5.4K

Summary: All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears dress and lingerie, has hair and body hair, and manicure. Reader's age not mentioned so there is only as much or as little of an age gap as you'd like. TW - fat shaming, food shaming, infidelity (by reader, and it's technically warranted) Pet names (daddy for Joel; sugar, darlin', baby, sweetheart for reader). Housewife/trad-wife vibes. Totally a bored housewife fantasy. Mention of female masturbation. Breast/nipple play, oral (f & m receiving). Fingering. Body worship. Pussy pronouns. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped, but still.. this is fiction). Light spanking. Rough sex. Creampie. Joel's kind of a big ol' slut for the lonely housewives but is also really useful around the house, so you're definitely getting a good deal 🛠️

Author's note: it's been a hot minute since I've written a one-shot for Joel but it was impossible to resist. It all started because of this pic:

so yeah, Pinterest strikes again. How could I not write a Joel fic based on this? I hope y'all enjoy 💖

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"He can come clean my pipes anytime."

Raucous laughter erupts from the group of ladies huddled near the cupcakes at the latest book club meeting. You listen from the other side of the room where one of the older members is asking you to help her with her Kindle. "I never know how to keep up with all this fancy technology," Marion huffs, adjusting her bifocals.

You're trying to be patient with her, but the conversation across the room is far more intriguing. "It just needs to be charged. Your battery is low," you say three times before Marion can even hear you.

When you've managed to extricate yourself from her, you go up to the ladies and, with a friendly smile, join in. "I couldn't help overhearing."

Some of the women exchange glances, as if deciding to let you in on their convo or not. "Becky's just showing us that she got her kitchen cabinets redone," someone finally pipes up.

"That's not all she got," another starts to crack up.

You look at Becky's phone screen. The before and after shots of her cabinets are nothing short of miraculous. "That's great, Becky! I know you've been asking Gerald for a renovation for awhile," you tell her, hoping she'll be pleased you remember the plight she droned on about for weeks.

"It is great," she says, eyeing you with something like suspicion. "I have a very good handyman."

"He does everything," a nicer girl, Isabelle, chimes in.

"Boy does he," another mutters, hiding her smirk behind her cup of lemonade while the others giggle behind their hands.

Amirah adds, "He varnished my dining room table, power washed my driveway, helped organize my garage," she counts on her fingers. "He's good for little things around the house, and his prices are decent."

"It's like he's just giving it away," Becky says with a smirk and this gets the group laughing again.

"Maybe you can give me his information later," you say politely. "I have a laundry list of things that I need help with now that Wesley's working so much overtime."

The women eye one another, and it's Amirah, the leader of the group, who gives the definite nod. "Of course, sweetie. After the meeting."

"Great!" Smiling, you try to make your way through the group, saliva pooling in your mouth at the tower of red velvet cupcakes on the table spread. You reach for a couple more.

"You've already had three," Becky reminds you, casting a not-so-subtle glance at your body. Her voice sweet as honey but her words carry poison. You know you're not as thin or as glamorous as the other women in this room. You dress the same as them, wear your hair perfectly coiffed and your nails are always manicured, but just because you're not a size zero they deem you unworthy to truly be one of them.

You hold your head high with what little courage you have in the face of Becky's bitchiness, your sinful little cupcake in your hand. "I actually had three. And right now I'm about to make it five," you say sweetly, licking a swipe of cream cheese icing before putting two cupcakes on a china plate and going back to your seat.

That night, Wesley doesn't ask about your book club. He doesn't ask how your day was. He doesn't do much except pour himself a drink when he gets home and sit in front of the TV to watch the news.

You're dressed for bed, a modest robe over a red silk babydoll chemise, a purchase you'd made on a whim in the hopes that you could spice up your sex life with him which, truth be told, has never been more than lukewarm from the start.

"Do you think we should.. go to bed?" you suggest, a naughty tone to your whisper.

"It's early," he grunts, barely giving you a glance.

"I just thought we could spend some time together.." you brush your hand across his knee but he impatiently swipes it away.

"Please, darling, it's a weeknight," he looks at you as if you'd just suggested a threesome with him and the milk man. As he leaves the room he looks back at you, but the hope that rises in your chest is soon shattered when he shakes his head upon seeing your lingerie. "Red is for streetwalkers," he tells you before he goes into his study.

Daddy Can Fix It

You run your finger over the business card Amirah gave you, with all the handy man's information. The card shows his white company van with the logo emblazoned on the side: Joel Miller, Handyman At Your Service so it says in black lettering. There's a phone number and a website as well.

You dial the number, expecting to hear a secretary's voice, but you're greeted with a rich, baritone "Good mornin', thanks for callin' Daddy, what can I fix for ya today?"

Jesus, the voice alone is enough to get you flustered. And Daddy? You weren't expecting that. "Um, hi, I got your number through a friend and I'd like to see if you're available to come mow the lawn today." You peek out your curtains, seeing how the grass has grown taller than you'd like since the last time Wesley has cared enough to cut it.

"You got a lawn mower, sugar?"

"Yes, I do, um.. daddy.."

You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "You can call me Joel."

"Joel. Yes, I do. Is there anything else you'll need?" New to the housewife lifestyle, you're still unsure of how to make such appointments. Before you met and married Wesley, you just mowed the lawn yourself, but your husband refuses to hear of his good and proper wife performing a menial act.

"Got any bushes that need trimmin'?"

You aren't sure why that particular sentence makes you feel the blood rush to your face. "I typically keep up with it on my own, when I'm tending to my garden."

Joel gives a small chuckle and it warms your insides. "That ain't no problem. Today around eleven good for ya?"

"Eleven sounds perfect."

"Pricing'll be about fifty, but we can come to an agreement once the job is done."

"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you." You give him your name and address, hanging up with a sense of accomplishment.

His van appears in your driveway just a minute before eleven. You're impressed with his timeliness. What you don't expect is the gorgeous stranger on your doorstep.

Joel Miller is tall, broad-shouldered, skin bronze from working out in the sun, and his dark brown hair is greying handsomely. If you had to guess his age you'd say fifties. He's in a grey tee shirt and work jeans. What stand out to you the most are his eyes: almost black in color, appraising you as you wait in the doorway, prim and proper housewife, lips parted, eyes wide.

He asks for you by name and you nod, chuckling slightly.

"If you can show me where the lawn mower is I'd be happy to get started," he offers, and the voice you recognize from the phone makes you melt.

You lead him outside to the garage and he takes out the mower, filling it up with some gasoline first. "Is there anything else you need?" you ask politely.

"No ma'am," he looks over his shoulder at you as he pushes the machine to the front yard. "Get inside and get outta this sun. I'll handle it from here," he smiles and it makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl.

From inside you watch him through the window, deftly maneuvering the lawn mower over, trimming the grass to a neat, short length. It's not yet the hottest hour of the day, but you see him sweating, and when he stops a moment to remove his shirt, you suddenly feel your pulse in the deepest part of your cunt. You wonder what it would be like to lick up every drop of sweat off his chest.

Like a slow motion scene from a movie, you watch the motion of his arms, the rippling of his back as he guides the machine over the lawn. Biting your lip you take in the sight of him, the determination on his face redirecting your thoughts to how he would look above you: hot, sweaty, hard, plunging into your drenched pussy.

How long has it been since you've had a man? Wesley prefers his Saturday nights like clockwork. But you want more. Stupidly thinking marriage was the best way to be treated right and fucked properly, you realized it was not the title but the man, and the particular man you chose was lacking in all area which mattered.

You aren't even sure you love him anymore.

But right now, watching Joel is a treat, and fantasizing about him is a little secret you'll harbor for later in the day when you'll inevitably find yourself using the showerhead attachment.

He finishes the front and back yards, and through the blinds you peep him putting his shirt back on, running a hand through his wavy curls before putting the mower away and coming to your door.

You answer it before he knocks. "Thank you!" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Please come in and we can settle payment."

He cleans the bottoms of his boots on the welcome mat before stepping inside your home and following you to the kitchen. "You have a very nice home, ma'am."

"You're too kind," you're modest about his compliment, but it's thrilling to have someone say something nice about the hard work you put into keeping house. "Would you care for some iced tea? I've just made it fresh."

"I won't say no to that," he chuckles lightly, and you're happy to fill a glass with some of the fresh-brewed tea over ice.

Joel leans back against the sink, pouty pink lips pressed to the glass as he tips it back, opening just enough to take a sweet sip. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, and you wish you could lick a stripe up along his the length of his delicious-looking neck to collect all the sweat that's beaded there.

"Is there anythin' else you need help with today?" he asks, his question carrying a hint of something more.

You blank for a moment, getting lost in the depth of his obsidian eyes, still caught up in your little fantasy. "No.. no, I don't think so." Taking a look around your eyes dart to every corner, taking mental stock of the upstairs rooms as well. "No," you finalize with a smile.

"If you're sure.." he says in that same low tone.

You give him fifty dollars and chat a little while he finishes his drink.

"If there's nothin' else I'll get goin'. Feel free to call me again if you need somethin' done, or looked at. Ain't nothin' I can't fix," he winks at you on your doorstep and you feel a waterfall in your panties.

Isabelle calls later in the day. "So? You had Joel over today, right? How'd it go?"

Dinner is in the oven and there's about an hour before your husband gets home. Phone on speaker, you start peeling potatoes. "It was fine. He did a great job. I'm sure I'll use him again."

Over the line you hear Isabelle sigh. "Isn't his dick beautiful? I swear, just thinking about it gets me so wet!"

You nearly slice a finger off, shocked by her words. Even though you're alone in the house, you pick up the phone and take it off speaker. "What are you talking about?"

"I think it's at least eight inches, and the way it curves at the end," Isabelle sounds like she's moaning.

"Okay, I'm lost. I hired the handyman that you and the others referred. That's who came over today."

"Exactly, dear! Did he fuck you? You don't have to give details of course."

Your brain is put on pause as only silence fills your throat.

"Oh dear," Isabelle continues. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

She sighs, possibly settling herself on her chaise longue out by her pool she's so proud of. "Joel Miller is a handyman, yes. But we also pay him a little extra for other services."

"Oh." You sink onto the living room settee, the closest thing to you.

"Mm-hmm. Mind you, it's not an all-the-time thing. But we've all had him. It's just something fun. You get some help around the house with your honey-do list, and then a good fucking after. Or whatever pleases you."

"And you.. you've.. slept with him?"

"I wouldn't call it sleeping, honey, but yeah I've been with him. It's all for fun. Nobody really takes it seriously."

"And everyone else at the book club?"

"Pretty much. Do you really think any of our husbands could compare to that god of a man Joel Miller?"

No, no you doubt any man could hold up to the stud who'd just helped you with the lawn.

He's on your mind constantly, but as tightly as Wesley keeps his wallet to himself, you can't validate having Joel's help every day. You make the choice to wait until the following week.

And what a long wait it is. Jealously you wonder whose house he's going to. Jackie down the street? Bitchy Becky with her face like a rat, no tits and no ass?

You consider calling Isabelle to beg for the details (which she'll probably give you without a fuss anyway). But a sordid part of you wants to find out for yourself. You already know he's well-endowed. He's at least twice as big as Wesley, who wouldn't know what to do with a big cock if he was blessed with one overnight.

A week to the day since he made his last visit, Joel comes back to replace the batteries in your smoke alarms. It's a job you've done yourself, perching on a stepladder, but it'll be more fun to have Daddy fix it.

The phone call to schedule him was practically foreplay. That smooth-as-chocolate voice had your panties drenched. When he's finally here, inside your home, inside your needy little cunt.

Your eyes rove over his form as he uses your stepladder, only needing the first rung. It doesn't stop you from staying right there with him, holding it steady on the other side. You hear his little grunts as he gets to work, watch his thick, strong fingers handle the batteries with a delicacy you can imagine he uses in other things.

Licking your lips, you realize you're face-to-face with the faded blue denim crotch of his jeans, those Levis hugging him tight in all the right places.

"I'm 'bout done here," he says, putting the smoke detector back in its place. "Anythin' else you need help with, lil' darlin'?"

Your hand presses to the bulge in his jeans, and you're delighted when you feel him twitch in response. "As a matter of fact, I do need your help with something else.."

"That right?" he murmurs, pressing your hand against him, letting you feel him grow hard under his palm. "Been waitin' to see if you'd ask.."

He steps down, keeps his dark eyes on you. "Pretty lil' thing like yourself don't get enough attention, huh?" he whispers, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

Softly you sigh, unashamed at how needy you've been for a simple touch. "No.. but I'd like you to help with that."

"That's what I'm here for, darlin'," he smiles, his thumb tracing your soft plump lips. "What do you want me to do, baby?"

"Everything," you answer quickly. "I'm not.. really sure what the usual is.."

His smile is kind as his hand traces down your neck, leaving goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You want me to fuck ya, give ya somethin' nobody else is doin'.. that it?" He places your hand back on his bulge and you respond by rubbing him, your own cunt pulsing around nothing in excited expectation.

"Yes.. I need to get fucked," you agree emphatically, pulling him into your bedroom.

Now he's here, in your room, and you think you're dreaming. He's letting you take the lead, completely at your service. All the women in your book club were probably more open with their desires, knowing immediately what they wanted and how to get it. All the fantasies about Joel you've created and harbored in the deepest part of your heart are now as impalpable as gossamer.

"You tell me what you want, honey," he drawls in that molasses-rich voice of his. His hands gently trace your waist, smoothing down your dress as he moves towards your curvaceous hips. "God damn, I bet you look fuckin' gorgeous outta this dress. Wanna show me?"

Biting your lip, you nod, tugging off your apron and dropping it to the floor. Not gonna be a damn housewife while he's with me..

A tiny smirk on your face, you gently push Joel back onto your bed, and he rights himself with an equally mischievous smile as he watches you. He palms his hard cock through his jeans as you do a little striptease, tantalizing him as you slip your prim flower-print dress off your shoulders.

"There we go, baby," he growls as the dress falls down to your hips, your scarlet satin bra revealed, your breasts practically spilling over the cups, making Joel's mouth water. You turn around for his help in unzipping the bottom part of your dress, finally feeling free as it falls away, pooling at your feet.

Joel lets out a wolf whistle as he takes in the sight of you in your ruby undergarments, the same you'd tried to seduce your husband in. Now they're finally being put to good use. "Red's your color, gorgeous," he mutters, his hands on your hips, mapping out your generous curves and the soft rolls of your belly.

You've almost forgotten what it was like, this power to entrance a man and make him see you as the only woman in the world. Marriage to an uncaring and unfeeling idiot had left you cut off from your sexuality. Now you're reclaiming it.

Joel's hands travel back up to your waist, fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He unwraps you like you're the goddamn Christmas gift he's been begging for for months. His tongue wets his lips as your plump breasts are revealed. With one hand on your lower back, the other palms your tit with a rough hand. Your nipple rises to his touch and he dips down to swirl his tongue around it, gently coaxing it further with his teeth. Your head falls back as the sensation zings straight to your cunt. "Fuck, Joel.."

He smiles against the softness of your skin. "Sensitive here, huh? Bet these ain't been properly played with in awhile. Gonna change that right now." And with that he gives another hard suck, his dick already leaking when he hears your needy moan. He treats the other breast with the same attention. You take one of his hands and lead it to the drenched front side of your panties, but he stops you.

"Not yet, baby. Want you to see yourself before I fuckin' ruin ya."

You lay on your side on the bed as you watch Joel undress. It's a sight you won't soon forget: skin tan from working outdoors, with a smattering of chest hair that's also showing some grey, chiseled arms, and a happy trail that leads from his navel to the front of his boxers, which are tented. He wears a little smirk as he pulls them off and your reaction is priceless.

Joel is fucking hung.

You've taken big cocks before, but his is formed of pure fantasy, like a dildo from your favorite sex shop. Isabelle wasn't exaggerating about his size. And his cock is so beautiful you want to cry. Watching as he gives it a couple strokes, all eight thick uncut inches, the rosy pink tip glistens with precum, the veins and ridges prominent. Even the curve Isabelle mentioned is sexy, bound to hit all the right places inside you. His balls, rounded and heavy, move with his motions.

Thank God I did my yoga this week.

You beckon him to you, pulling the boxers away completely and dipping your head to taste him. Your tongue laves across the salty slit of his tip, and you relish the hitch of his breath. He's not here for you to please him, but it gets you wet wrapping your lips around his cock, suctioning your mouth and stroking upward from his base. When you start to massage his balls he stops you. "Don't wanna shoot too soon, baby," he says breathlessly.

He pulls you up off the bed and into a kiss, his hands playing along the edges of your panties as his tongue tastes yours. His cock, still wet from your mouth, nudges against your soft belly. "You deserve to feel good," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his tongue tracing the outline. At last he pulls your panties down, a rumble in his throat when he sees the sweet glaze between your thighs, glistening in your triangle of hair.

"Sit on my lap, baby. With your back to me," he orders in a soft growl.

His flesh is warm beneath yours, and god it feels good just to be touched again, to feel desired by someone. You haven't known it in so long. He sits back against the headboard, moving the pillows on either side. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist as he leaves soft, feathery kisses across your shoulder.

"So soft," he murmurs. "C'mon, baby, look at yourself," he nods to the mirror in front of you.

When you catch your reflection you're exhilarated at the sight: you, naked, with Joel behind you, kissing your neck, fondling your tits, thumb brushing over them and lightly pinching them to hardened peaks. "Spread your legs for me, baby," he whispers, getting started by brushing his hand from your knee to your petal-soft inner thigh.

It's lascivious, watching all this unfurl before you in the mirror. You're spread open, on full display. Your pussy is gushing over with need, and you trace your folds with your fingers.

Behind you, Joel's cock twitches, and he rubs himself lightly against your back. "Lemme do that.." he whispers, gently pulling your hand away, bringing your fingers to his mouth and sucking your juice off them. "So sweet," he murmurs, and your belly is hot with lust.

His touch is soft and careful at first, exploring you and figuring out what you like, what you need. It feels like he's memorizing every inch of you. His thick fingers glide over your lips, circling, teasing you so you'll beg him for more.

"Joel," you whine, lifting yourself to him, trying to get his hand to position itself where you need it most. But he evades you, a dark chuckle emanating from deep in his throat. "You're payin' me to do a job and I wanna do it right. Not fair to rush me."

Your eyes close in frustration. "Joel, please.."

"Nuh-uh. Daddy."

"Fuck," you whimper. "Please, daddy."

"That's more like it." His touch finds your clit, throbbing and needy, and you nearly see stars at the feeling. He presses once again before sliding two fingers into your warm, welcoming cunt. "Christ, she's really suckin' me in there," he grunts, shifting behind you as his dick becomes nearly impossible to ignore.

"Yes," you moan at the sweet intrusion, the easy glide of his fingers in your drenched pussy. "Just like that."

"So fuckin' tight," he says through gritted teeth. And Jesus, his fingers are thick, the calloused thumb swiping over your clit, making you twitch and your hips arch up for more. "She's pulsin' around me," he mutters, his rich voice in your ear, lips brushing against your lobe. His fingers glide in, stretching you as you coat him.

"Ah, she's gettin' all creamy for me," he coos as he pulls them out a moment, licking off one finger and giving the other to you. You taste yourself, salty and sweet, humming in appreciation as you release his digit from your mouth with a pop.

He returns to his work, his hand pistoning against your folds, the squishy sounds of your soaked cunt beautifully obscene to your ears. Your voice trembles as you cry out, a sweet vibrato that resounds throughout the room as Joel's fingers curl in on your g-spot. He adds a bit more pressure to your clit as he tries to get you there. Moaning, he nuzzles his face into your neck.

It feels like you break open under his touch, hips arching up, swallowing his delving fingers deeper inside you as you spasm uncontrollably around him, a string of curses falling from your lips.

You barely have time to recover before he's on you again, moving in front of you as you lay against the pillows, like Venus in a Titian painting. His hands lift your thighs, softly kneading their thickness as he plants kisses on either side, trailing up to your cunt, your scent all around him.

"My husband never goes down on me," you whisper, heart racing as quick as a hummingbird's wings.

"Ain't he a waste of fuckin' space," Joel grunts, a wicked gleam in his eye as he dives in, flattening his tongue to lick a stripe upwards to your needy, throbbing clit. Your hands grab at his hair, pushing him forward as his groan is muffled by your sweet, saturated pussy.

"God.. damn!" you gasp at the delicious feeling of his tongue on you, lapping up every drop, tracing your lips and tickling your clit. He's relentless in his pursuit of making you come, switching up the tempo, adding a finger and then another, praising you when you cry out again. "Squeezin' so hard on me.. she's just about ready, ain't she?" Before he finally suctions his lips around your puffy clit and sucks, humming around it.

It's as if your soul leaves your body for a precious few moments, muttering monosyllables in sweet relief. You've never come so hard before, ever. And when you look up at Joel you wish you could worship him.

"Like the sweetest tea I ever drank," he says, licking his lips.

"Fuck me, Joel," you whine, still not fully come down from your climax.

"C'mere," he growls, putting you on all fours so you're facing the mirror again. You look at your reflection: hair mussed, eyes shining bright, skin glowing from your orgasm. Joel lines himself up behind you, smiling as you watch yourself. "Got every right to look at yourself, darlin'.. someone as fuckin' hot as you, with these hips, this ass?" He grabs one cheek and gives it a slap. You gasp, jolting forward, then wiggle your ass at him, wanting more.

"You a naughty lil' thing," Joel smirks, teasing your folds with his tip. "Wanna get this pretty lil' pussy ruined?"

"Yes, daddy," you moan, pushing back on him.

"Fuck me, I like the way you say that." He bites his lip as he continues teasing you. "Once I fuck you, you'll never let that limp dick husband of yours touch you ever again, I promise you that."

Your reply is cut off when you feel him nudge inside, your walls breached by his thick cock. "Oh god... yes!" you exclaim, clutching the bedsheets. "Fuck.. your cock is so huge.." You can feel the tip just kissing your cervix.

"Yeah, you like it? Like gettin' fucked by this big cock? Gettin' stretched out? Gonna leave a big ol' gapin' hole for your husband to come home to."

He bottoms out, grabbing your ass cheeks with both big hands, watching the smoothness of your skin as your cunt clenches onto him. "God damn what a pretty sight.. you oughta see this. Pussy's barely fittin' me as it is. Only tighter thing would be your little ass.." and he pulls out all the way to slam back in, glorying in the way you scream his name.

"There she goes, gotta get 'er used to me," he grunts, eyes on your swollen pussy lips wrapping his cock in a vise with each steady thrust. "Jesus, sweetheart. So tight I gotta try not to blow my load."

The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body reacts to him, is like gasoline on an already raging fire. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Say my name, baby. I wanna hear it." He quickens the pace, pressing deeper inside you.

"Daddy! Daddy!" you shout in time with each delicious snap of his hips. "My god, you're so fucking deep.." you moan.

"That's it, take all of me. You like the way I fill you?"

"Yes daddy!" Your fingers clutch the sheets as the bed rocks with your movements. "So full of you.."

He presses a hand to your abdomen. "Feel me there, baby? All up in your guts. No one else is ever gonna fill you the way I do. No one's ever gonna come close. This needy lil' cunt's gonna be cryin' for me every day until I come back and give her what she needs."

His dirty talk is getting you wetter, your juices running down between your thighs, making his cock all sloppy, the sound of it making you feral for more. "Fuck me, Joel.. fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.." you mumble, face down, ass up, slack jawed as you drool on the sheets.

He speeds up, hips slamming against yours, balls thwacking under you. "Yeah? Want me to fill ya up, blow all this fuckin' load inside ya? Got snipped years ago, baby, 's up to you."

"Fill me up, make me dirty and messy," you groan.

"You want daddy to give you everything he's got, baby?" he repeats. "You want me to fill you til you're all messy and drippin' with me?"

"Yes.. yes please," you're barely able to get out.

"Fuck," he growls, grabbing hold of your hips as he pounds into you ferociously. Once he has control he places one hand on your back, keeping you pressed down as he angles himself to hit that delicious little spot inside and he knows he's hit it when you cry out, cursing and shivering, clamping down on him like a damn vise right before he lets go, streaming jet after jet of his hot come inside you. There's so much it's already leaking out while he's still inside you.

The rest of the week you make a list of things for Joel to do next time: perhaps check out what's going on with the washing machine, or maybe he could regrout your bathroom, or help you rearrange your living room furniture right before he rearranges your guts again.

Even Wesley notices the bright and cheery mood you're in, and how attractive you've become since taking on some of the home improvements. That weekend he does you a huge favor, and sits back in his armchair as he waits for you to discover it.

"Wesley? What were you doing in the garage for so long? I heard a lot of noise," you tell him, arms crossed, a look of suspicion on your face.

He looks pleased with himself. "Well honey, you've been so agreeable these past few days that I thought I'd cross off some little projects on your to-do list."

"Like what?" you ask slowly.

He lists off everything you've had planned for Joel to do in the coming weeks. Small things, of course, but Wesley has done all of them, leaving you with nothing for daddy to fix.

"I thought you'd be happy," he says, his face cloudy now that you're unhappy again.

"Happy? Not quite." You leave a moment and return with a hammer, heading towards your husband.

He cowers, ducking as you completely pass him by and swing the hammer into the drywall of the living room wall, over and over again. When you've let your anger out and Wesley is rightfully afraid of your next move, you simply smile sweetly, holding the hammer pressed to your apron with your well-manicured hands. "Looks like I'll have to call the handyman after all!"

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

tagging those who showed interest when this baby was still just a wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @604to647 @inept-the-magnificent @clawdeewritesfanfic @manuymesut @bitccchmood @everybodylovedcontractors

[brainddeadd]

She's a really nice woman who appears to only hate you, but it's just that she's awkward and has a crush on you

You’ve noticed that Jenna Ortega is kind to everyone—her smile is a staple on set, and she’s genuinely sweet with the cast and crew. But around you, she’s different. Reserved, curt, maybe even a little annoyed at times, she barely seems to tolerate your presence. It stings, especially since you’re pretty sure you’ve never done anything to provoke her.

It becomes something of a mystery, and her behavior only deepens it. You catch her stealing glances when she thinks you’re not looking, or she’ll blush when your shoulders accidentally brush on set. When you laugh with friends, she’s always nearby, watching with a small, guarded smile. You can’t tell if she’s irritated by you or just painfully shy.

One night, after filming a late scene, Jenna’s still around, sitting in a quiet corner with a notebook. Taking a deep breath, you decide to confront her—gently, of course, but you need to know why she seems to have an issue with you.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask, only half-joking, as you sit down across from her.

She looks taken aback, stammering slightly as her cheeks flush. “Hate you?” she repeats. “I don’t— I mean, I could never hate you.”

You blink, not expecting the softness in her voice, or the vulnerability in her eyes as she looks down, fiddling with the corner of her notebook.

“I just…” she starts, then lets out a shy laugh. “I’m really bad at this kind of thing. I guess… I just didn’t know how to talk to you.”

“Why not?” You lean in, the tension thick between you.

Jenna takes a breath, glancing up at you before looking away again. “Because I like you,” she murmurs, so quietly you almost don’t catch it.

You sit there, a little stunned, as her words sink in. She likes you. You’d imagined so many scenarios, but this wasn’t one of them. Jenna Ortega, the Jenna Ortega, had been acting strange around you because she liked you?

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but her eyes drop to the floor, and she starts to fidget with her notebook, clearly embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “That… was probably weird. You didn’t need to know all that. I’ll just—”

“Wait,” you say quickly, reaching out before she can close herself off completely. Your fingers brush over hers, warm and steady, and she looks up at you, her expression uncertain.

You’re close enough now to see the faint freckles across her cheeks, the way her lashes cast soft shadows under her eyes. She doesn’t pull her hand away, and something about that gives you a little burst of courage.

“I thought you hated me,” you admit with a sheepish laugh, realizing how silly it sounds now. “Every time we talked, it felt like you were annoyed or, I don’t know… like I’d done something wrong.”

Jenna winces a little, but her lips twitch into a small, shy smile. “I wasn’t annoyed. It’s just… being around you makes me nervous.” Her eyes dart up to meet yours. “In a good way. Mostly.”

Your heart stumbles over itself at her admission, warmth flooding through you at the vulnerability she’s showing. Her usual confidence is nowhere to be seen, and you can’t help but find it completely endearing.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you say softly, still holding her hand, “you make me nervous, too.”

She blinks at you, a hint of surprise in her eyes, and then her smile widens, slow and sincere. The tension that had lingered between you two, the quiet distance that had once felt so insurmountable, suddenly doesn’t seem so impossible after all.

You squeeze her hand gently. “Do you maybe want to… get coffee sometime? Just the two of us?”

Jenna’s eyes brighten, a spark of excitement she’s no longer trying to hide. “Yeah,” she says, a little breathlessly. “I’d really like that.”

The two of you share a quiet smile, and in that moment, it’s like the world outside disappears. There’s only Jenna, with her soft gaze fixed on you, her fingers still tangled with yours, and the gentle promise of something new blooming between you both.

[cigarettessmokeandberries]

Fixer Upper Part Two (Melissa Schemmenti x reader)

The coffee machine is fixed and Gregory has won educator of the year! But, Melissa has to write his congratulations speech on top of her double classes. Only one solution...

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

The following day, the news found its way into Abbott- in honor of Gregory’s educator of the year award. Unlucky for Melissa, they chose her to present the award, adding more stress onto the older woman. She’s already stuck with two classes for the year.

After hearing of Melissa’s bad luck, Y/n set to work coming up with a speech about Gregory, but given his own inability to compliment his self and Melissa’s idea of re-gifting, she has her work set out for her.

A few moments after sitting down at her desk, Jacob rushes up to her, slightly out of breath.

“Y/n, Melissa is acting very strange around me and I am worried she might try to attack me.” Jacob says looking around as if she could be around any corner.

“Jacob, what?” Y/n questions with a worried smiled. Jacob moves around the desk and leans onto it before answering

“Ever since this morning she’s been giving me approving looks here and there and I am worried she is buttering me up so it will take me by surprise when she attacks.” Jacob whispers out. Y/n has to hold in a laugh looking at his worried face, knowing now what he is talking about.

“Jacob, if i tell you this you have to promise to keep it to yourself.” Jacob’s face drops from fear to a small frown as he leans in

“I won’t tell a soul.” He promises. Y/n knows better than to believe him but hopefully he will only tell Janine. If not, maybe she is slightly fucked.

As Jacob leans into listen, Y/n tells him about her run to Melissa’s favorite coffee shop yesterday and the note she left on her car with a forged signature. Jacob’s face breaks out into a giddy smile as she finishes her sentence.

“Oh my god, you are crushing hard.” Jacob gushes as he crosses his arms, leaning back on the desk. Y/n slaps his arm.

“Shut up. There is nothing wrong with being nice to someone.” She replies.

“I think you exceed being nice burning up your fingers on a coffee machine for Melissa.” Jacob jokes, backing off from the desk.

“I did that for everyone!” Y/n mumbles to him.

“Yeah? What’re you working on now?” Jacob questions as he goes to look at the speech Y/n is currently working on. She quickly turns it over before sending a glare Jacobs way.

“I kinda wish Melissa was gonna beat you up now.” Jacob raises his hands in surrender before walking out of the office.

Y/n lets out a sigh before flipping the paper back over and scanning her work. She didn’t have a crush on Melissa, she’s pretty sure she’s too far deep for that. Plus, she is grown woman, and grown woman don’t have crushes (she definitely has a crush on Melissa).

---

---

---

Lunch time arrives at Abbott and Melissa finds her seat next to Barbara and starts grading some of her classes work, needing to take this time in order to be able to finish both classes in a timely manner. As the teachers fill in to the breakroom, Jacob walks up to Melissa and she raises an eyebrow in his direction.

“You’re welcome, Melissa.” He says giddily before taking his seat. Melissa sighs before nodding her head toward him. Jacob’ll take what he can get, and that is all he will get. Melissa turns back to her phone, taking a break from the mountain she has left, before she turns back towards Jacob, having noticed Y/n’s absence for the second day in a row.

“Hey, Hill, where’s the other one of ya’?” Melissa asks, looking toward the empty seat beside Janine, who also looks up at the question. Jacob pauses for a moment “uh-” he starts but gets cut off from the door opening. Jacob lets out a breath of relief seeing Y/n walk in as he turns back to his conversation with Janine.

“You weren’t here yesterday and you were late today, what are ya up to?” Melissa raises her eyebrow up at her, suspicious.

“I just forgot my lunch in my car,” Y/n lifts up her lunch bag and takes her seat. Melissa stares a little longer before Jacob butts in.

“You never worry about anyone else who’s late.” Jacob whines, slightly offended. Melissa levels him with a glare before Janine pipes up as well.

“Seems like you like Y/n.” Janine jokes smiling. Her smile fading when Melissa moves her glare towards her.

“I just noticed it, pipsqueak.” Melissa tuts, taking a glance at Y/n who’s smiling down at her lunch. Melissa gives Janine and Jacob one more Schemmenti glare, returning to her phone once again. Barbara barely catches a small smile.

---

---

---

“-cause you can’t choose when people acknowledge you. This is your moment.” After searching the school for Melissa, running short on time to get the speech to her, Y/n overhears Melissa’s encouragement to Gregory in his classroom. The cameras outside the room zoom into Y/n waiting outside the door and then back to Melissa and Gregory’s conversation. As they continue their conversation, Y/n recalls all the times Melissa has gone without acknowledgement, and although everyone does, it just doesn’t seem right that a woman who does so much for the students and school doesn’t get the acknowledgement she deserves.

Y/n is brought out of her thoughts as Gregory makes his way out of the classroom, Melissa following behind.

“Hey, Melissa,” Y/n shouts, catching up in pace with her and handing her the speech. Melissa looks at the paper suspiciously for a moment before turning her gaze to the younger woman.

“What’s this?” Melissa starts to look over the paper. eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

“I know you were struggling to write the speech, so I thought I would help you out a little and write a small one. You already have so much to deal with, with two classes, and I just thought I would be able to take some of that stress away. I’m sorry if I-” Y/n’s rambling is cut off by Melissa’s hand on her shoulder.

“Hun, I can handle it. You don’t need to worry ‘bout me. But,” Melissa looks around and seeing the halls empty continues “Thank you. I appreciate it. This whole thing has been a shitshow.” Melissa jokes, smirking at the younger woman.

“Yeah, no problem. Only took a few minutes.” Y/n brushes off the praise, even though it did take going through Gregory’s work file (which Ava had yet to update) and a short snoop session through his desk to find something to fill the lines.

“Thanks, hun.” Melissa lifts the paper up with a smile and a nod before starting to walk toward the gym.

“Melissa,” Y/n calls out before she can get too far.

“Huh?” Melissa turns back and raises an eyebrow for Y/n to finish.

“I just-,” Y/n cuts herself off, trying to find the words, before taking a breath and meeting Melissa’s eyes, “I notice you, Melissa. You’re a great teacher and I- You deserve a lot more acknowledgement, that’s all. But, for whatever its worth, I notice you.” Y/n bites her lip, waiting only a moment for a reply, before fleeing down the hall.

Melissa watches Y/n down the hall, a realization kicking in as she turns into the gym.

*She’s never told Jacob about her favorite coffee shop*

[elliespuns]

In your beautiful mind, what exactly happened in the hours after Sarah was killed?

Kneeling over the lifeless body of his 13-year-old daughter, Joel refuses to leave. He's not getting up. Tommy understands; the anguish is palpable as his brother cradles Sarah's still form, his tears mixing with the blood staining his shirt. But the soldiers and infected are getting closer and closer. Approaching slowly with his own vision blurred by tears, Tommy wraps his trembling arm around his brother, offering him a helping hand to lift his niece's lifeless body. Joel's shoulders shake with silent sobs as he looks up at Tommy through bloodshot eyes. After an agonizing moment, he nods almost imperceptibly before he, with great tenderness, lifts the kid's body and carries it his truck parked nearby.

In a moment of utmost anguish and desperation, as the younger brother drives them away from the place of heartbreaking loss, Joel clutches his baby girl's still body close to his chest. Choking back sobs, he refuses to tear his gaze away from her lifeless face. If only he hadn't looked away from that fateful moment. If only he had kept his eyes fixed upon her always. Then maybe, just maybe, she would still be breathing, her tiny heart still pulsing with the promise of life. But no, it happened in the blink of an eye—one devastating second that irrevocably shattered his world and extinguished the radiant light that had given his existence its very meaning. The cruel finality of it all crashes over him in waves, each one more suffocating than the last. This cannot be real. It must be a horrific nightmare from which he will surely awaken. Yet deep down, Joel knows the inescapable truth—his daughter, the gentle soul who made his heart sing, is gone. Stolen away in an instant by the cold, pitiless hand of fate. 

Tommy grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, as the truck speeds down the empty highway. Keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead, he refuses to glance in the rearview mirror, unable to bear witnessing the agony of his brother in the backseat. The sounds of heartbroken sobs and desperate weeping fill the thick, heavy air inside the cab. Tommy's heart feels as if it has been ripped in two. His sweet, innocent niece, the apple of his eye, is gone, stolen away. He cannot believe it. He feels the weight of his brother's grief; the darkness of the night seems to swallow them whole as they race onward, leaving behind the smoldering ruins of Austin.

Later that night, as they find a moment of respite, Tommy pulls over to an isolated spot, mercifully unmarred by the horrors that had descended. With a heart heavy as a boulder, the two brothers trudge into the shadowy woods, knowing that in a world gone mad, this is the only place they can lay the kid's body to rest. With each shovelful, a piece of Joel crumbles, burying his humanity with her, until not a single shred remains when it is time to leave his heart behind.

The treacherous overland journey begins, fraught with peril as Tommy and the grief-stricken father must evade the growing outbreak of infected. There is no choice but to press on, for they have no other option. In the midst of unspeakable tragedy, Tommy remains the sole source of purpose for Joel. Yet, deep down, the man knows he already died with his daughter several hours ago.

Through teary eyes, Joel watches as the trees that now hold Sarah become smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. As they drive further away from the forest that had become her sanctuary, the realization sinks in that he may never visit the place to see her again. The world had irrevocably changed, and so had Joel.

[mikerickson]

I worked as a poll worker for the first time yesterday

After the primaries in the summer, our County recognized that they had a poll worker shortage leading into the election this year and started putting out advertisements to bring new people in. I realized that I didn't know literally a single person in my life that had been a poll worker before and that it was something I had always taken for granted. With this looming shortage however, I decided to step up and do my civic duty because why not? After a three hour in-person training session and a two hour online training session, I was ready to go.

More under the cut because honestly some of these interactions with voters are kinda depressing:

I had only signed up to do a half-day shift from 5:15 AM to 1:00 PM because I figured I'd be wiped out and exhausted if I did a whole day. Well turns out that my replacement who was supposed to take up the evening shift never showed up, so I ended up staying. I got to the polling location (a local high school) at 5:00 AM and left at 9:30 PM, effectively working a 16.5 hour day with only a 1 hour lunch break. I'll get a $300 check in two weeks, which, hey, beats jury duty!

By law our polling center was supposed to open to the public at 6:00 AM sharp, but we were scrambling and not ready yet when the vote-before-work crowd started banging on the door. Very stressful start to the morning and we immediately had a big line that didn't dwindle down until about 7:30 AM. I unironically wish I had gotten there even earlier.

Our polling location had four districts, and each district had four workers (two to man the check-in table, one to operate the voting booths and ballot scanners, and one to float/rotate out every so often). I was paired with a man and a woman both in their seventies and a woman maybe in her mid forties, but they were all clearly uncomfortable with technology. Two of the other districts were also staffed by old people who just gave up at the first sign of a problem with a touch screen or a printer jam. I'm talking just a complete lack of problem-solving capabilities. I ended up running triple duty checking people in, making sure voters were set up in their booths properly, and doing on-the-fly tech support and troubleshooting. It felt rewarding multitasking and hearing, "get Mike over here, he'll fix it" over and over, but I kinda wish I didn't have to?

We only had two voters make a scene over the course of the entire day. During the morning rush right after opening a woman raised her voice asking why there was a line and stressing out that she had to leave to go to work soon (she stuck it out in line and then bolted out of there). Later around lunch time a guy at one of the other districts' tables shouted something like, "oh, so my dad can vote here but I can't?" He stormed out in a pissy mood shortly after, but I never got the full story of what was going on there.

I had one man who had recently moved and hadn't updated his registration with the board of elections, so his address didn't match what was on file. I explained that he could still vote if he did a provisional ballot, which is basically like a mail-in ballot that you put in a special envelope and leave at the polling station instead of taking it to a drop-off box. Apparently that was a step too far and he just said, "forget it..." and left. Seemed odd to me that he 1) physically drove to a voting location to vote and 2) waited in line to sign in, but that filling out a single sheet of paper was no longer worth it.

Once we were fully set up and getting into the flow of things most of the delays and reasons for lines were the voters taking too long inside the booths. It was basically a giant touchscreen monitor to select your choices, then you review everything one last time before printing a physical ballot. I had multiple people enter the booth and then wait about five minutes before calling for help saying they didn't know what to do. Also the second page/backside of the ballot was for the local Board of Education candidates, and this was really tripping up a lot of people. Also a staggering amount of people just did not see the giant "NEXT" arrow at the bottom right hand side of the screen. Poll workers are not allowed to enter the booth with them, so I had to do a lot of blind troubleshooting from the other side of the curtain.

Lots of men coming in with their wives and girlfriends and just waiting by the wall while the women voted but they didn't.

There was a smattering of young people, but not many. I did have to turn one girl away who recently turned 18 because New Jersey is not a same-day voter registration state. She was visibly bummed out and I felt bad about that.

Our oldest voter of the day was this ancient Polish woman who didn't speak a lick of English. Her daughter, who must've been in her eighties herself, had to sign a special permission slip to enter the booth with her mother to help. They were in there for a good 15 minutes, but luckily this was during a calm period of the day.

In terms of voter attire, we only had two Harris shirts and one Harris/Walz hat we had to ask people to cover up because that's not allowed within 100 feet of the polling station. Lots of Puerto Rico flags, and one guy had this obnoxious shirt of a coquí painted like the flag that I loved. Also had one man come in wearing a very sharp suit with the loudest red tie I've ever seen in my life who proudly shouted, "Let's make voting great again!" as he left after he finished.

One older Hispanic lady (I think she was Puerto Rican) had very broken English and had to do a provisional ballot for some reason. She was so worried she was going to do it wrong, but I walked her through it with my very broken Spanish and after about 20 minutes she was good to go. She was extremely thankful and gave me a hug.

I had one woman, maybe in her mid-forties, call me over to help when she was inside the booth. She asked, "why are there so many names?" I asked what she meant, and she started listing the down-ballot candidates in the other rows below President and Vice President. She said, "what is 'Senate'? What does that mean?" I explained to her that there were other contests to vote for, and after a telling pause she responded, "...okay..." Not entirely sure I got through to her.

One woman took her very young daughter into the booth with her and a few minutes later called me over. Her screen displayed a "USB device disconnected" error. I looked down and saw that the printer had been turned off. I asked how that happened and the little girl started laughing. Her mother was mortified, but I got them sorted out.

We had one teenager who we had to help insert her ballot into the scanner because her hands were shaking so violently. It was her first time voting and she was extremely nervous. I hope she's doing okay today.

Towards the end of the night this contractor with filthy hands comes in and he's clearly exhausted but wanted to vote anyway. We were shooting the breeze while he signed his voting authority and I said, "I bet I got you beat though, I woke up at 4:30 this morning." He looks up at me and deadpans, "I've been up since 3:30." I yielded and he laughed with me.

Our second-to-last voter of the day was some early-twenties guy who moseyed on in at 7:55 PM (polls legally close at 8:00 PM sharp) and said, "I heard this was going on today." Somehow he was registered and was able to get in and out in no time, but that was just such a casual remark to make that it floored me.

Our absolute last voter of the day was a woman who was on her cellphone the entire time trying to coax her husband - who was in his own car about two blocks away from the sounds of it - to hurry on over before we closed. I could hear him hemming and hawing over it, making some excuse. He didn't make it.

Closing the polls was equally as confusing and stressful as opening them was because there are a lot of very detailed ballot reports to print and specific zip ties with specific barcodes and serial numbers to close up the machines. We were missing a certain lock for the ballot bag that we was preventing all sixteen of us from leaving (no one can leave until all districts at the polling location are ready). Eventually I (because of course it was me) found it in a trash can; someone had thrown it out for some reason but no one owned up to doing it.

As we were leaving and all saying goodbye, some of the other poll workers joked, "see you guys in four years!" I pointed out that there are elections every year, and that in fact New Jersey has a gubernatorial election next year, and some of them basically said, "I didn't know that."

Overall a stressful but memorable day. Today I was talking to some co-workers that voted at different locations within my County (so using the same equipment I was trained on), and they were telling me stories of waiting between 45 minutes to two and a half hours at most. My location never got a line that bad, which maybe had to do with the location I got assigned, but it's also just as possible that me and one other guy around my age (shout out to Giovanni working District 27!) held our shit down and prevented that from happening.

It was a very long day that wiped me out. In a vacuum I don't know that I would want to do it again, but after seeing the incompetence of the standard ilk of poll workers and learning what was happening at other locations, I really feel like I need to. I'd rather these things be run by people like me than not.

[kqutie]

GROUP EFFORT x SLEEPY MAMA

relations. : platonic avengers/single mother reader ; romantic pairing still undecided

sum. : you're exhausted and happily fall asleep with vinny but your son has other plans now that his favourite heroes were close by

tags. : single mother reader ; baby is inspired by Jack-Jack from ‘the incredibles’ ; fluff ; slight crack fic ; comfort fic ; baby!oc ; widowed reader ; baby has multiple powers ; domestic fluff ; avengers babysitting a super baby

length : 3.4k

← part one | series masterlist

You explained your situation with Vinny as thoroughly as you could in your sleep-deprived state while he slept in your arms. Your STEM background habitually prompted you to provide your hypothesis on the matter, which Bruce and Tony perked up and shared a look at. Both appeared to immediately take a mental note of researching the incident with your husband later. The team vaguely remembered the event when it first happened and dominated the headlines. It was dubbed as a freak accident that happened too quickly to be stopped; they were gutted that even they couldn’t do something about it. Naturally, they had questions but were hesitant to inquire when you were noticeably slipping in and out of consciousness. 

Natasha furrows her brows in sympathy as she observes you and gradually moves her gaze down to Vinny. Despite your exhausted state, you force yourself to maintain your posture and continue safely cradling your son, prioritising his comfort over your own. She can only imagine the amount of stress you had undergone the last few days of having to take care of a son with rapidly expanding powers. ‘Just a normal person’ was what you called yourself, someone who was ‘incapable of properly caring’ for your son and his powers no matter how much you were willing to stick it out. In the end, you had to call it quits. She admired your resilience and maternal drive, all of them did and they were more than willing to help you. It was definitely a bizarre case but, rather than figure things out now, it was more important to ensure your and Vinny’s wellbeing.  

“How about we call it a night for now?” Steve suggests as you hand over the list you had written up, detailing the extent of Vinny’s acquired powers. It was an extensive list composed of several scraps of paper and sticky notes. The team's eyes collectively bulge at the sizable amount of notations. 

“Does he have super speed like me?” Pietro blurts out in excitement, eager to potentially have someone who can finally keep up with his speed. 

“I don’t know… maybe it’ll manifest one day. The list only seems to keep growing,” you try to smile but you’re so tired it comes out as more of a grimance. 

“Stay the night,” Tony says with fixed conviction, “it’s gotten late and you came to us for help with the baby, right?” Pepper smiles beside him and nods in agreement. The couple stand side by side, already settled on the decision and it appears as though nobody else was going to contest it.  

“We have plenty of rooms available. I’ll be happy to take you and Vinny to one,” Pepper offers as Tony nods with his usual charming grin. Neither gives you the chance to object nor does the rest of the team—all are determined to lend you a helping hand. Looking at their kind expressions made you tear up. It was such a relief. You haven’t felt this supported since your late husband was alive.  

“Y-yes please,”

“It’s settled then, over to you Ms Potts,” Tony gives the curve of Pepper’s butt a small pat as he moves away, “I’ll get the staff to bring up a cot as soon as possible,” The team follow the couple’s lead and wish you a goodnight as Pepper begins leading you to the available bedrooms with Vinny still asleep in your arms. 

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The team remain in the living room discussing the current events. Pepper had informed them of which room you were sleeping in for the night when she came back, it was one of the bigger rooms considering they were organising a cot to be put in for Vinny, it also had an ensuite and small kitchenette for your convenience. 

The cot was taking a while to acquire and build due to the suddenness of the request but you assured her that having no cot wasn’t an ‘end of the world’ thing, you were more than happy to sleep with Vinny in the same bed. In fact, you had recently gotten into the habit so that you were easily alerted whenever Vinny spontaneously did something with his powers. However, Pepper doubts you would wake so easily in your sleep-deprived state; you fell asleep the instant your head hit the pillow. Thankfully, Vinny remains fast asleep beside you. 

“You think it was the gamma rays, Bruce?” Tony asks nonchalantly as he settles himself atop the sofa arm, snacking on chocolate-covered almonds. 

“It’s highly likely,” Bruce has been absorbed in research ever since you had left the room, typing away on his laptop. “Reports of the incident don’t flag up anything suspicious happening,” Tony raises a brow and there’s a knowing silence that fills the room momentarily, “...but we may just need to do some more digging,” Bruce was willing to continue his research but Tony insisted on the work day being over and the need for a good work-life balance. All Pepper’s influence. 

“We can continue the research tomorrow, Banner. Meeting a teleporting, multi-superpowered baby warrants some rest for the night, at least,” With a shake of his head, Bruce relents to Tony’s insistence and finally closes his laptop. Pepper looks at her fianceé proudly, Tony has come so far and has truly grown into the hero many admire him to be. His under-eyes are looking much healthier too. After his initial hesitation, Bruce and Tony join everyone else in the central living room again. 

“Will the baby and his mother be staying here for a long time?” Thor asks thoughtfully, leaning back into the sofa as Loki contemplates the question beside him. It makes sense for the mother and son duo to stay considering how unpredictable the child’s powers are. 

“It would be for the best,” Steve announces, receiving a nod of agreement from the majority. “The baby needs to be analysed so we can better help the mother and separating the two is entirely out of the question.”

“We’re not subjecting the child to any experiments though, right?” Bucky asks, a hardness coming over his expression and darkening his features. Everyone holds their breath and looks to Tony for answers. It was a collective look that pleaded opposition to the idea. In their line of work, experimentation on children was, unfortunately, a common occurrence and was something they actively pursued in putting an end to.   

“Surely not,” Natasha says lowly through gritted teeth. Everyone understood how important the topic was to her.

“‘Course, not.” Tony states matter-of-factly and shrugs, “There are ways of collecting data without having to partake in those old-school, traumatising experiments,” 

The Maximoff twins look at one another before Pietro suggests the obvious, “So… babysitting?” Tony shoots him with a pair of finger guns and cheerfully announces his victory. 

“I’m afraid no prize for you though—”

A giggle cuts through the room and everyone turns to the source immediately. Not again. 

Sat on the coffee table was Vinny, no longer asleep and having teleported into the living room once more. For a moment, nobody knows what to say or do until Vinny reaches his arms up, claps and giggles happily while staring up at Bucky, his little arms still raised. The supersoldier’s expression softens considerably at the child, his heart warmed by the infant’s glittering eyes and gummy smile. Giving a small wave and wiggling his fingers, Bucky is rewarded by another giggle before Vinny makes grabbing motions at him with his small, pudgy, baby hands. The gesture, however, makes him pause entirely. 

“That means he wants you to pick him up, Cyborg,” Sam laughs at his friend’s frozen state, it was hilarious to see someone who was usually so stoic and threatening become a headless chicken in front of a baby.

Slow and steady, Bucky reaches out and takes Vinny in his arms. The infant squeals in delight and kicks his legs when the soldier lifts him into the air before settling him on his lap to face the rest of the team. Vinny leans back against Bucky with a smug-looking grin as the brooding assassin sits rigidly behind him and whose large hands keep him in place by grasping his small torso on either side. It almost scares him how his fingertips touch when holding Vinny – the child is so tiny, so pudgy, soft, and fragile. Bucky’s face goes stock-still as does his limbs — he becomes indistinguishable from a stone statue. 

Pietro, Clint and Tony burst out laughing at the sight, pointing fingers at Bucky and making little Vinny grin in delight, their tangible joy is infectious to him. Even Sam is snickering from Bucky’s peripheral, no longer worried about getting hit upside the head since the supersoldier was otherwise preoccupied. Finding their laughter contagious too, Vinny joins in, oblivious to the glaring super soldier whose lap he was happily seated on. 

“He looks like a little prince in an oil painting sitting on a throne!” Pietro comments in between gasps of laughter. Tony snaps a picture and everyone slowly sees the vision Pietro had been calling out. It was comical. Clint was desperately gasping for breath as Loki snickered under his breath and Thor agreed to the ‘little prince’ observation.

“That child makes for an excellent prince!”

“But a throne? More like a stone statue,” Sam snorts as Steve struggles to keep a straight face. 

“Not. Funny.” Bucky growls lowly, paying no mind to the way the child in his lap plays with his fingers, unsuccessfully trying to pry his grip off his torso whilst babbling incoherent words. 

“You having fun, little guy?” Steve asks, leaning down to meet eyes with Vinny who responds happily, although in his nonsensical baby language. “I see, I’m glad,” Vinny prattles on again and holds a conversation with the soft-eyed, gently smiling captain for a good two minutes as the rest of the team looks fondly at the scene. 

Moments like this were what life was about. 

Evenings with the entire team were an eagerly anticipated activity, however, to have such a precious child join in on the event was a welcome occurrence. It felt like a family coming together to indulge in each other’s warm company. It was calm and mundane but it was what everyone craves atop the tumultuous life they lead. 

“What did the child say?” Thor’s booming voice cuts through the conversation and Steve turns to find him with a wide smile, eagerly anticipating an answer. 

With a roll of his eyes and a tsk, Loki answers before Steve can utter a word of explanation, “The captain doesn’t actually understand the child, he’s just entertaining it,”

“It’s ‘he’, not ‘it’, Loki,” Wanda corrects but is ignored by the god. 

“But they were conversing rather fluently just then,” Thor insists. Sometimes the group wonders if the Thunder God liked to play dumb just to annoy his younger sibling.  

“It doesn’t matter, the captain was speaking properly whilst the child wasn’t speaking any coherent language,” The two continue to bicker the way siblings do, as usual, while everyone else turns back to Vinny. The child, however, keeps his gaze locked on the two gods, his round, doe eyes transfixed on them with a blank expression before he suddenly smiles and squeals. 

“Ahh-yah!” the room suddenly shakes, as if a minor earthquake had occurred and the gods finally stop bickering. Everyone’s attention was on Vinny again. Wide-eyed, Bruce scours through the list of powers you handed over earlier and tries to find some sort of explanation. 

“What the hell was that?” Tony breathes in disbelief and turns to his lab partner, “Banner?”

“I think it’s the ‘loud sound (crying, cheering, laughing) = earthquake’,” 

“Echokinesis…” the two scientists conclude at the same time.

Tony slowly swipes his hands down his face, “This kid is gonna be a handful,” everyone stares, wide-eyed at the giggling child still sitting on Bucky’s lap. Vinny gurgles happily at the attention before assuming the stares are to commence one of his favourite games. Bringing his small, chubby hands up to his face, Vinny covers his eyes, cooing softly before revealing his eyes with a ‘dah!’. His proud grin is more gums than teeth but he’s just happy to play one of his favourite games ever. 

The adorable display makes the team smile, easily forgetting the earlier incident of uncontrolled power displayed by the innocent babe. Vinny continues playing peek-a-boo with everyone, who gradually joins in, Wanda being the most enthusiastic as she softly sings ‘peek-a-boo’ to the baby opposite her. Vinny had joined the light singing as well but with muddled coos instead. All is well and nerves have just begun to settle as Vinny covers his eyes for about the umpteenth time, elongating the innocent game. However, the team doesn’t mind as long as the baby is entertained and not crying.  

“Peek…a…boo!” Wanda sings once more but, this time, when Vinny reveals his eyes from under his small baby hands, two tunnels of bright green light shoot forward and everyone on the other side of the room ducks for cover. The parallel laser beams reached as far as the opposite wall and almost tore straight through it. As Vinny’s merry giggles fill the air, everyone slowly regains their composure and stares in disbelief at the destroyed couch. 

“The kid has fucking laser eyes too?!” Clint exclaims in disbelief, slack-jawed at the destructive evidence of Vinny’s power. 

“Language,” Steve promptly reprimands despite his own astonishment at the child’s display while Bucky had promptly covered Vinny’s tiny ears with his hands. Loki laughs joyfully, looking at your babbling baby boy with glittering amusement. 

“What an incredibly gifted child,” Loki praises with a smirk, his hair tousled by the scuffle but he pays it no mind.

It was then that Vinny reached his little arms up to Natasha, babbling happily before changing his mind and turning to Tony, only to change his mind again and make grabby hands at Thor. Everyone watches as the infant conflicts with himself, not knowing who he wants to be held by more before he falls forward and tumbles out of Bucky’s arms, or rather a duplicate of him does. In fact, a swarm of baby Vinnys fall off Bucky’s lap and begin shakily waddling over to a different avenger each.   

“Oh my…” Natasha gasps, cuddling a happily cooing Vinny to her chest — a duplicate one, at least. Looking around, every Avenger was made to cradle a duplicate baby as they tried to contain their shock and amazement. “This is crazy…”

“Wh-what do we do?” Pietro asks no one in particular as Wanda tries not to fawn over the baby Vinny in her arms.  

“Just make sure he doesn’t start crying or they’ll all start crying and the tower will end up collapsing on everyone because of their echo-kiss-thing,” Sam advises, panic swimming in his eyes as he remembers the shrieks of his baby nephews and how they had the power to make all nearby adults cry with them too. 

“N-now we don’t necessarily know if the baby can use more than one power at once or if his duplicates can perform powers atop the duplication. But I think it’s safe to say that that’s not the case–” Bruce cuts himself off as the baby in his arms coos, mesmerised by his moving jaw and reaches up a tiny hand to touch the scientist’s face. The duplicate Vinny in his arms begins babbling as if Bruce had been talking to him the entire time and they were pleasantly conversing. Charmed by the display, Bruce smiled softly and cooed at the infant in his arms — there was just something about babies that brought joy and peace to a person, he wanted to savour that feeling as much as possible.   

“Are you sure about that?” Clint asks and raises his Vinny, who had started dribbling and blowing bubbles with his spit. The bubbles should have easily disappeared but they began to float around and soon enough all the duplicate Vinny babies were blowing bubbles with their saliva. 

“I don’t know if that’s disgusting or adorable…” Tony comments, staring in mild awe and disgust at the display whilst bouncing the giggling baby in his arms. Pepper walks up beside him with an equally disturbed but awestruck expression. 

“How can they float like that?”

“You want to pop it, little human?” Thor chuckles as the Vinny in his arms reaches for the floating bubbles. Wanting to keep the child entertained, Thor obliges and pops a bubble for him only to yelp at the sudden electric shock he was subjected to. To a god of thunder, that felt like an insect bite, however, that would not be the case for his teammates. “Be careful my friends! This child was able to encase electricity within these innocent bubbles!” 

“Oh god! What are you?!” Sam asks in disbelief at the baby in his lap. Vinny simply giggles behind his small hands – he looks like the perfect picture of innocence but the team of heroes know better. 

Tony hands Pietro a wooden coaster from the coffee table to quickly pop all the bubbles with so that they don’t injure someone. The speedster nods but hands him his duplicate Vinny before zipping off to do the task. It didn’t take longer than five seconds to complete for Pietro and everyone could finally breathe a sigh of relief. 

“This is gonna be…interesting…” Tony observes with some hesitance as Bruce snorts a laugh and gives him a raised-brow look. 

“I could’ve told you that, Tony,” Sam chuckles. 

“But we can still help Vinny and his mother, correct?” Steve asks, feeling his heart clench as the baby in his arms cuddles into him with a suppressed yawn. The supersoldier watched, mesmerised, as the child slowly blinks and gradually fell asleep while sucking on his little thumb. 

“Of course!” Wanda declares and looks at Tony, “Even if it’s going to be difficult, we can’t just turn them away,” 

“I never said we were going to turn them away,” Tony smiles and relaxes his shoulders when the duplicates disappear in a small puff of smoke, revealing that Steve had the real Vinny. “They’re free to stay as long as they need,” the team smiled in relief at the assurance. They weren’t going to admit it aloud but they had already grown an attachment to the son and mother pair. It would be a good change of pace to have the two around the tower. 

“Splendid! I like the child very much already! And the mother is lovely, herself,” Thor speaks for everyone in the room, lowering his voice for the sake of Vinny who Steve had cradled to his chest and was gently rocking, “She seems very kind and loving, much like our mother, right, Loki?” the blonde god happily slings his arm over his younger brother’s shoulders and brings him close. 

“I suppose so,” Loki agrees with a scowl and stubbornly shrugs off his brother’s arm, who laughs goodnaturedly at the gesture.

“What about Nick?” Natasha asks, making everyone tense up but it was a subject that couldn’t be avoided. 

“I don’t think Nick is heartless enough to separate a mother and child or subject the little one to anything traumatic,” Steve was confident in that, “but if he shows otherwise, we’re putting a stop to it immediately,” Everyone nods and Pepper volunteers to call the S.H.I.E.L.D director about the situation. 

“It’s late,” Tony excuses and chuffs at the look Pepper sends him, “and, even though he’ll be ready at any time of the day. It’s best to start this tomorrow. The baby’s asleep anyway,”

Everyone notes the peace that had befallen the room. Everything was quiet except for the slumbering child’s soft breaths and their hushed voices discussing the topic. Looking at the clock, time had already passed so quickly.  

“This little one was such a handful,” Wanda comments, “no wonder his poor mother looked so…” she chooses her words carefully, “troubled,”

“I would have given up and collapsed already,” Clint confessed with a good-humoured snicker, “she must be a super mom to have taken care of a super baby all by herself for longer than a day,” hums and nods of agreement were shared throughout the room. The feat you accomplished was beyond their comprehension. Even though they were experienced in handling unusual, potentially dangerous events like this, they had struggled quite a bit from only one evening with Vinny. But you were one person without any special abilities or experience, and yet, you had lasted longer than they did. 

“A mother’s love is otherworldly,”  Thor concludes and, again, everyone hums and nods in agreement. 

navi. | series masterlist

a/n : sorry this took so long my loves! this was very vinny and avengers centric also but mother dear deserves the rest, i hope everyone is enjoying the series so far. i will soon be opening up requests for this series to see what you lovelies want to see happen and the chapters will be based on those requests -- eventually anyone can read this series in any order they want!

[autistichalsin]

"What is it like to be so uncaring? I wish I could spend a day being as unempathetic as them. (Unspoken: What's the point of having empathy anymore?")

This is a sentiment that I've seen so many others express, and myself have kinda had to work through too, in the past 24 hours.

And it's a damn good question, isn't it? The people who care for no one but themselves- and worse, who actively want to hurt others not like them- won. They got everything they wanted. Meanwhile, good, kind people lost, and are now being mocked. "Triggered, liberals?"

So what's the point, then? Why should we care anymore?

It's one of those questions where you really have to be your own guide with that. We live in a world that punishes kindness and tries its best to beat it out of people, and sometimes it's tiring to do so.

But I answered that question myself and maybe my answer will help some of you.

In a world like ours, kindness is an act of defiance. Becoming cruel/callous/selfish feeds in to the reality they peddled to steal American democracy for good. By being kind, you remind them that not everyone is like them. And believe me, under their taunting, under their cries of "own the libs", this unsettles them. Kindness is an act of resistance. Love is an act of resistance. You are telling them that they will never change who you fundamentally are, they won't take away the things that make you better than them. And there is nothing evil people hate more than reminders that not everyone is evil!!! Do you remember that scene from The Dark Knight where the Joker had a group of prisoners and ordinary citizens on two ferries with bombs to blow up the other's ship, expecting them to hit the button- but no one did, because they wouldn't take the others' lives? And how utterly baffled he was? Your continued compassion enrages fascists.

You are gaining so much more from remaining kind and empathetic than you can understand. Yes, the ones who lack it won and will get to abuse people, but they lack human connection, and most of theirs are shallow. Alpha male types don't enjoy close friendships; Matt Walsh himself said he never had a friend say he loved him, Tucker Carlson's mom hated him so much that she left him $1 in her will, and Donald Trump's wives only ever married him for his power and status. The few connections they have lack depth and care and genuineness. Sure, they have families, sometimes, who love/care for them. But it is a very different kind of love because it is conditional. That's the only kind of love they know. "Be like me, espouse my values, and then I will love you." They disown their queer children, they fear their wives being independent or their husbands being 'soft.' The instant they become "wrong" in some way, they'll be discarded. You, in seeking relationships with people who genuinely love you for you- and offering that in turn- are never going to know that terror.

You deserve to be loved. You deserve to get to continue to feel the full range of human emotion, which does and should include compassion and empathy and love. You don't deserve to have to give that up just to survive this dystopian hellscape. You deserve better and if this country has failed too much to give you better, you should still at least hold on to what scraps of better you can find.

Things are about to get worse in nearly every aspect; financially, socially, geopolitically, I could go on. Staying your authentic self- loving and compassionate- is one of the only ways you are going to be able to survive what's coming, because you'll need support, and so will those around you.

Not going to numb to what's happening is the literal only way we can fix this. And I'm going to be blunt here, no fix is coming in our lifetimes. We're going to try and salvage something in the future we aren't ever going to see here. But that makes retaining your fundamental kindness even more important, because when there's nothing in it for you, the only way to keep going is to retain a love of humanity, no matter what flaws it has, because otherwise you'll get discouraged and give up. We won't get out of this, even in a few generations, without radical acts of altruism for people who are going to live here after us. They deserve your help even if they're not here yet. They NEED you.

Don't let this change who you are. Who you are is good. Who you are is perfect. You're a normal person in an utterly insane world, and this insane world won't become sane again without people like you.

[azrielwingspan]

RED SERPENT (Mob!Bucky x f!reader)

MASTERLIST

Chapter 4- Bloodhound and Loyalty

Summary: King and Queen of New York. The one who knows how to play the game, survives.

Warnings: Violence, mature content, sexual themes, foul language.

Disclaimer: I do not condone any of the actions written in this story.

"Pierce." you say, tone flat.

A smirk crawls onto his face, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Who would've thought that we would meet like this?"

"Not me." you replied in the same tone, an image of punching him right in the face flashing through your mind.

"Steve , Sam.." he says nodding at the two men in front of you. They don't respond to his greeting and move an inch closer to you. This action doesn't go unnoticed by Pierce. His smirk widens as he shakes his head.

"Looks like there's some sniffing out to do. After all..." he shifts his gaze to look at your directly "loyalty is hard to find these days."

You don't let his carefully worded threat phase you. "Every dog off of the street will show you loyalty once you feed them."

Taking great pleasure in watching the smirk slowly fade from his face, you got up and walked towards Bucky leaving behind Sam and Steve to deal with Pierce. It was time to form a new plan. Pierce would hold the information he had above your head and use you like his own plaything if you didn't do something soon.

How could you have missed this though? You were absolutely certain that you had him in the palm of your hand and yet he had been fooling you and working with Bucky. How long would he take to tell Bucky that his wife was the culprit and thought she could get away with it ?

Bloody hell.

You spotted him across the room talking with Helmut, another member of the inner circle. Helmut seemed aggravated but listened to Bucky as he spoke. Impatience taking hold of you, you approached them hands behind your back.

"Helmut, a moment with my husband please." you said looking straight at Bucky, face devoid of emotion.

"Yes, maybe you can fix this." Helmut said walking away. He was the only member who was bold enough to speak against Bucky right to his face. Holding back a smile at his ballsy nature, you stepped towards Bucky.

"I'm getting tired of your antics for the night, husband."

Bucky simply took a sip from his glass of amber liquid and studied my face for a few seconds. "Follow me." Without waiting for a response, he started heading towards the entrance. You walked by his side, anger simmering beneath your skin.

Ignoring the stares directed at the both of you, Bucky closed the door to the office behind him and headed to the small dark balcony that overlooked the dance floor.

He stood near the banister, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his glass. Joining him by his side, you followed his gaze and looked down at the figures dancing beneath, unaware of the tensions running high in the room upstairs.

"This is one of the best establishments in the city." Bucky spoke not looking at you.

"I'm aware." your gaze lifted upto him, noticing the sharp line of his jaw as his head remained turned.

"Your dad is one of the sharpest minds in the business. He knew what would work and what wouldn't. He was always right. Every single time." he let out a small sigh as he turned to face you finally.

You couldn't get a read on his expression. The dim lighting made it harder to see his eyes.

"When I was younger, I'd always wondered how he'd managed to do it. I'd asked my old man multiple times. He just asked me to figure it out." he stayed silent for a few moments.

I raised my eyebrow indicating for him to go on.

A tilt of the corner of his lips before he continued. "I was too young and reckless to ever trust anyone. Placed myself on a pedestal thinking that everyone was beneath me. Learnt the hard way that loyalty had to be earned and not demanded."

Your breath caught in your throat as he brought up loyalty again. That word would be plaguing your nightmares for quite some time.

"I needed to place my trust in...certain individuals to get somewhere in this business. It helped, a lot." he paused again, searching my eyes for something. The truth, perhaps?

"Where are you going with this, James?" you ask softly knowing very well where this was headed.

"The first time someone betrayed me, I didn't know what to do. Trusting someone was new to me but so was letting them go. After 3 days of no sleep, I shot him in the head."

He looked at the gulp you had taken, his eyes trailing over your throat and slowly coming back up to meet your eyes.

"So I'll ask you this once and only once." His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he took a small step forward, his height towering over you. His cologne that had once comforted you felt like a cocoon of danger where escape was a wild dream. Head tilted down to meet your eyes, he whispered, his voice spreading goosebumps over your body.

"Why did you do it, sweetheart?"

A/N: I know this is very short but I promise the next one will be longer !!

Taglist : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @ordelixx @mrsnikstan @scott-loki-barnes @marvel-wifey-86 @tenderly-hopeful-collection

[m-jelly]

Hello again jelly👋!! I saw you said you have watch x-men and deadpool and Wolverine. so I have an idea for Levi x reader one-shot. So the reader is like wolverine sha has adamantium claws and healing ability basically heal herself, maybe a little Savage attitude, but she is caring to the younger Cadets, so anyway in the story, Levi, hange and erwin they heard criminal Underground but they also heard this person is a mutant so they went to the Underground to convince the reader to join...

Pain and claws.

Levi x fem reader

Canon world, x-men inspired, mutants,

The scouts aim to recruit you for your abilities and remove you from the underground city.

"Focus." Erwin fixed his uniform. "This one is a bit different from Levi."

Levi frowned. "Tch, how?"

Hange adjusted her goggles. "She has claws."

"Claws?"

Erwin walked to the top of the stairs and looked out at the underground. "She can heal rather fast, " he said, adjusting his gear. "Let's move out."

The three of them flew across the city. As they flew Levi couldn't stop thinking about the past. The city still stank like it did before and the people looked rotten and wicked. It brought him no joy to be back and the sooner he found you, the better. He didn't know who you were, he'd never heard of you before and never saw you around the city.

After flying for a bit they saw you in a courtyard with a few thugs around you. The three of them landed on a roof and watched for a bit, they wanted to see what you could do. Erwin was interested in your skills and Hanges was fascinated by you.

Levi panicked when he saw you get punched then another man stabbed you. "Shit!" He flew down to the rescue. "Tch, damn fuckers!"

You spat out blood and smirked. "I'm gonna make this hurt real bad" You punched up and rammed your claws up and through the bottom of your attacker's jaw. "Was that as good for you as it was for me, sweetheart?" You yanked the claws out before twisting and cutting another attacker's hand off. "I warned you all!"

"H-How is she not dead?" one gulped with fear. "You stabbed her!"

"Why don't you stab me some more and we can work things out together, huh?"

Levi stood between you and the men. "Tch, save it for later."

You pouted a little. "Oh look, it's the fucking scouts here to save the day. I don't need you."

He glanced back at you. "You wanna get out of this shithole, then work with me."

You growled. "Fine. Let's work together pretty boy."

Levi's cheeks burned. "Pretty boy?"

While Levi was in a daze, you raced ahead and slashed your way through the surrounding gang. It wasn't long after you fought them that Levi started cutting through them like they were nothing. Both of you worked seamlessly together like you were connected on a special level. It was clear that the two of you and unique abilities as a result of experiments on your families.

When the battle was over, you quickly moved through the city with your new friend until you were at the exit. Seeing the three of them leave filled you with anxiety. Your life had always been this city underground, but now you were being led outside it was confusing and scary.

Levi turned to you. "It's okay."

Your shoulders dropped. "How do you know?"

"I'm from the underground city. I was pulled out and now I live and work above."

You stared at him, your eyes searching for a trace of a lie but found only the truth. "I'll go, but..."

Levi liked to be clean and he knew your hands were covered in blood from the men you hurt, but he knew you needed support. As he gazed at you, this strong woman, he saw the cracks that revealed the pain and the hurt. To Levi, you were a beautiful and strong woman, but you were pained. For a moment, he felt his heart flutter in a way that it had never done before. He knew that in time something could blossom between the two of you and the way you were shying away a little, he could tell you felt something for him.

He offered his hand and pushed down his need to clean. "Take my hand. I'll be with you every step of the way."

"I..."

"It's Levi and I won't let anyone hurt you."

You gave your name and paused in thought. "You can't promise that you know? About not letting anyone hurt me. Humans hurt other humans because it's fun for them. They're the most cruel being there is."

Levi stepped down towards you. "They're shits, all of them are shits, but there are some good ones. Let me help you." He tilted his head. "Don't let others know, but I know what it's like to be scared and have everyone think you're this unstoppable monster. It's a lonely place, but now we have each other."

You reached over and grabbed his hand. "Okay, I'm with you."

He gave you a rare smile before pulling you up and out of the underground city. "Careful of your eyes."

It was painful at first, the light was just so blinding and your skin tingled, but with time your body started to adjust a little to the sun. A soft fabric caressed your skin and something was plopped on your head. You lifted your head a little as Levi stood before you adjusting his green scout cloak on you.

Levi wiggled the hood a little. "It's a lot."

You hummed. "I'll get it dirty and I got your hand dirty."

"I can wash. I like cleaning, so this is fine." He pulled back and sighed. "Better?"

You nodded. "You're doing too much for someone like me."

"I want to do more."

"Thank you."

Levi took your hand again and moved you towards his colleagues. "I'll care for her. She's strong like I am. I'll guide her."

Hange smirked. "Plus, you get a pretty view."

Levi went bright red. "Shut it four eyes!"

Erwin chuckled. "Welcome to the scouts." He softly smiled. "Levi seems rather taken with you." The two of you watched Hange and Levi fight a little. "He's a good man." He looked back at you when you offered your name. "Erwin and that's Hange. We'll take care of you, but I think Levi wants that as his full-time job. You two look good together."

You hugged yourself a little. "Mm."

"I look forward to seeing you in training. I think you'll be an exceptional member of the scouts and a good friend."

You smiled softly. "I hope that too."

Levi stormed over. "Hey, she's mine."

Erwin smiled. "That so?"

A blush returned to Levi's cheeks. "Y-Yes. Oi, brat? Or should I call you cat or kitten? You're like one."

You hummed a laugh. "Guess I am."

"Focus on me, not him. Now, let's get you home because you need a wash."

You smiled as Levi grabbed your hand again. "Yes, Levi."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @anti-cupid @abiatackerman

[menfenced]

I've seen a lot of posts in the last 24 hours about why Kamala lost and I feel like most of them are failing to actually look at reasons voters are giving. Instead, they're putting forward what they personally didn't like about Kamala's campaign. But here's the thing to remember... You didn't like that thing about Kamala's campaign. You still voted for her. There's something else going on.

Because people didn't just vote against Kamala. They voted FOR Trump, and early polling results are showing they did it across the board in almost every demographic.

I've seen the calls for investigations into voter fraud and voter suppression because "this doesn't just happen!" and I agree with one thing. This doesn't "just" happen. There's a reason and democrats aren't listening. Because it's not just a handful of counties that got hacked or had crazy people trying to stop votes or didn't get all of their ballots counted. That's not to say that none of that stuff happened, of course. There may have been serious issues in some counties. But across the board, in nearly every state and every county, even if he didn't outright win, Trump made gains. The only two states where he didn't make gains: Washington State and Utah.

If that's due to voter fraud or hacked elections, it would have to be on a scale unlike anything we have ever seen before and honestly, we don't have any evidence of that right now.

So what happened? What do we know?

We know that since the pandemic and since the record inflation that caused, incumbent leaders all over the world have been losing elections at higher rates than usual. That crosses all political persuasions and again, has been seen across the globe.

Based on polling prior to the election, which remained fairly consistent throughout the election run, 3/4 US voters think the country is on the wrong track and 2/3 are unhappy with the economy.

Biden's approval rating when this election started was 40-41%

This is all a recipe for an incumbent losing, which to be frank, most people still saw Kamala as, even though she was running instead of Biden.

In addition to all of that, let's look at what the exit polls showed.

Kamala's approval rating in the exit polls was 48.5%

Donald Trump's approval ratings in the exit polls was 44.54%

And I know he wasn't running, but just for context Biden's approval ratings were 40%

When asked if Harris's views were too extreme, 46% said yes, 51% said no.

When asked if Trump's views were too extreme, 55% said yes, 43% said no.

So how did he win?

People like him less and think he's more extreme. Why did they vote for him?

Well, let's look at some other polling data.

45% of voters said that their family's personal financial situation was worse off than it was four years ago.

Only 25% said their financial situation was better than it was 4 years ago.

75% of people polled said that in the last year, inflation has caused them either severe or moderate hardship.

When asked who can bring needed change, 73% of voters said Trump and only 25% said Harris.

What that means is that a majority of American's don't like Trump. They don't think he's a good person. They think he's too extreme. And yet they still voted for him because the issue that was most important in this election was the economy.

Will Trump be better for the economy?

No.

But there's a perception that the current administration did not do everything they could have to fix it and people were willing to roll the dice on someone different.

Maybe we could have done more. Kamala only had 110 days to make her case and no matter what she said, the fact remained that she is the sitting VP. Maybe there was no way for her to escape the incumbent/status quo perception.

I hope we can learn something from the behavior of the American electorate this year, and I really hope Trump doesn't fuck things up too bad before we get another chance to step in, because the Republican Party is learning things too. They're learning that they can be as extreme as they want, but if they can make people believe the economy will work better under their leadership, even if it's not true, they'll still get votes.

[writingismygame]

Random Headcanons I have for the Straw Hats

Luffy: Emotionally Intelligent. There's a reason he has so many allies and gains their trust. It's not just his strength it's also his influence on their emotions that develops those relationships. Most of the time he knows what his crew really needs or wants before they do and sometimes not even just his crew.

Zoro: I feel like he actually has a great fashion sense. If I was going to get anyone to chose an outfit for me it would be him. I don't remember seeing this man in an outfit that I didn't immediately like.

Nami: I think being part of the Straw Hats has been the first time in Nami's life where she has been able to openly express herself without fear of other's reactions. She can be her complete self and depend on others. Which is why some of her reactions are sometimes over the top. She's remaking herself after a whole life time of trauma (not unlike everyone else in the crew).

Usopp: The two constants in his life were his mother and Kaya. Then when his mother died Kaya was it for him. She's the only one who treated him as an equal. I think this is a big reason for his lies, he wants someone to be there for him but the only way it used to happen was by him pretending to be more interesting then he was, or by pretending the town was in danger (/ that his dad was coming back). Now that he's found a family he's not as big of a liar as he used to be.

Sanji: We all know that Sanji cares a lot about the crew and food. He knows everyone's favorites (duh he's the chef), but I think he is also very sensitive to how people react to the food he gives them. What I mean by that is he's always observing people when they eat his food. Sanji would 100% know and notice if someone didn't like the food or if they had aversions to it. He might ask about it, but he'd most likely make specific meals more attuned to whoever had issues with the food without bringing attention to it. He's a chef if his food isn't making you happy and you're not enjoying it, he has a duty to fix it.

Chopper: Chopper isn't the best with compliments because for most of his life he felt unlovable. He was exiled by his family, blamed himself for killing the man who took him in, and Dr. Kureha is rough around the edges and is more action based than word based. He 100% only started receiving compliments commonly and realized he was lovable when he joined the Straw Hats.

Robin: Definitely thought of herself as a walking omen up until the Enies Lobby Arc. Gives the best hugs. I will take no arguments. 10/10 hugs. The perfect amount of pressure and will hug for as long as you want.

Franky: You can have the most interesting conversations with him. Like I do not see this man having a boring conversation. He can get deep and philosophical too. You could ask him anything and everything nothing is off limits for him.

Brooke: Doesn't like being alone. Kinda obvious, but it shows more often when one of the straw hats is about to be alone. He's usually the first to offer to go somewhere to keep someone company. Being alone for years messed him up and he will do whatever it takes to keep the crew from experiencing that.

Jinbei: Gives the best advice. He has done mostly everything. He's lived a full life. Brooke is older, but I think Jinbei has more experiences under his belt. While you go to Franky for a good and interesting convo. You go to Jinbei when you need a confidant. He keeps your secrets when it matters, and will give you one of those pats on the back and maybe a hug afterward. I think he gives good hugs but also like he's not the biggest hugger. Like he's down to give them out, but he's not the first to offer. He'll say yes if you ask him for one.

[cometblaster2070]

don't get me wrong, i absolutely love hunter, i think he's a great character and he's really nice and sweet and a great boyfriend too.

i love him and ashlynn together (especially in the books) and i also love the way they show him questioning his destiny with how he hates hunting animals and goes vegan after attending eah, how he sabotages his father's traps and hangs birdhouses in the forest instead.

you get the point, he's great; we all like him.

but i just CAN'T with that horrible fucking haircut.

like what the fuck is this????

WHO was in charge of designing his character i just wanna talk because what in the good god is THAT he is literally bald from the side it is not working for him.

i don't have any idea what they were going for but i want to know how bad you fuck up to end up with this as the final design.

ashlynn's a better person than i am; he's wonderful but i would never date him with that fuckass haircut.

she needs to tell him to grow it out or SOMETHING

[mercurymacaroons]

arrives 15 min late with a latte

......sup

[dykedvonte]

I think any fix-it mouthwashing au has to have the mandatory scenes of Curly either being able to blink again or speaking for the first time.