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gothicmisty · 5 days ago

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Havin' his baby

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | ao3 | masterlist part 2

summary: "I'm pregnant." His face. His totally normal face that was there seconds ago. It goes blank. White as a ghost. Joel blinks once. "You're what?" "It's yours," you blurt out, panicking. "I haven't been with anyone in awhile, and you were the last person..." The one in which you are pregnant with Joel miller's baby.

authors note: so, apologies in advance. this is a prologue of sorts. there won't be some smut for a while. i wanted there to be a bit of build up at first. i imagine reader is like 30s. but you can make her younger. but i still hope everyone enjoys!! tags: MDNI, pregnancy symptoms, implied age gap, joel is older, reader can be anywhere between 28 and mid 30s. reader is not described in this just that you have breast and long enough hair(eventually), no use of y/n, lots of pregnancy in this one. strangers to lovers vibes, pregnancy test. mention of being a mother, mentions of ultrasounds. tommy is in a few seconds of this. tbh, this can be either game joel or show joel. word count: 3.2k

The morning felt worse than the few before. You had woken up in the middle of the night more than once–not ‘cause you couldn’t sleep, but ‘cause you couldn’t shake that feeling of anxiety in your stomach all night.

The clock beside your bed says 7:45. Small bits of sunshine slip through your cheap not-so-great curtains. The summer heat in Texas. God. And your shitty lack of air conditioning wasn't helping you feel any better.

You sigh.

Not because you spent most of the night tossing and turning. But for the first time in a year, you missed work. Not just a day. An entire week. You had to get a substitute to cover most of your days.

Teachin’ life and what not.

You were sick. Nauseous. Your head was killing you. At first, you chalked it up to some bad leftover chinese you’d had. But by the second day?

You told yourself it was just from being around kids. Kids carried all kinds of germs. Practically little petri dishes, never washing their hands.

By day four. Most definitely, you were gaslightin’ yourself. Telling yourself it wasn’t anything serious. Until you realized your period never showed. You were never late. Never. Always right on time.

Instead of staying in bed. You drove all the way to the furthest pharmacy from your house that you could find. You didn’t want to run into a single person you knew.

Truth was, you’ve never had a pregnancy scare in your entire life.

Not even when you were a reckless teenager fuckin’ around with Billy Davis behind your parents back. Or that long term boyfriend you had up until last year, Jesse.

Never even needed to look at a test. But there is a first time for everything, you suppose. You looked over all the boxes.

How in the hell were there so many different brands? Different kinds? Some had two pink lines. Some had a blue plus sign. What is the difference between a digital one and a regular one?

You pick up the digital box. Flipping it over. Reading the words slowly. Was there really a need to know six days early when you already were a week late?

This was all…confusing. You feel it too. How drained you are. Filled with so much anxiety that this is real. You are really standing in the middle of a pharmacy because you might actually be pregnant.

So, you do the only thing you can think of. You buy six different ones.

‘Cause there was no way six tests could all lie to you, right? No way one of them could give you a different result.

The drive home was terrible.

Maybe it’s the car making you feel sick. The Texas heat since the air conditioning in your car also sucked too. Or maybe it’s just… really all of this.

After an awkward run in with Mrs. Sims on your way into the house and fifteen minutes of standing in the bathroom. Six pregnancy tests are spread out in front of you.

The first four are the easy ones, the kind with the little lines. Two pink lines on the first two. A large square pink plus sign on the other set. Positive.

The digital ones were next. Ninety-nine point nine percent accurate. The first one you pick up has a smiley face on it.

Like that’s supposed to make you happy. Instead of making you want to cry on your bathroom floor.

The second digital one just confirms your fate.

Pregnant.

Six different tests. Six different ways of telling you that you’re definitely expecting.

Having a mental breakdown about being pregnant wasn’t exactly on your to-do list today. Not ever.

There’s no pep talk you can give yourself. Tell yourself that everything is gonna be just fine. You’re not happy. You aren’t exactly devastated. You are just numb.

The handbook of life never taught you how to react when you’re finding out you’re pregnant. Especially when this wasn’t part of the plan. Any plan.

The details from that night aren’t really there. You remember the bar. You remember goin’ into his house.

You’d only gone out to that rundown bar a few streets over because of Rebecca, your college friend. Who wouldn’t stop complaining you never went out. Never enjoyed life outside of work.

Girls’ night, she called it.

But you’d seen him. Your neighbor. Joel Miller.

You barely know him. He lives across the street. Waves back at you when you’re getting the mail. Greets you with that southern drawl. Says, “Mornin’.” Helps with things occasionally.

He’s always working. Has a daughter in college. Not that you ever saw her, or paid much attention to what was across the street.

Joel Miller hadn’t been much of an interest to you. Not until that night.

That night he was sitting by himself on a barstool. At the same bar you were at.

He’s older. Dark greying hair. Hazel eyes. Spends more time looking ahead than looking at you. Which was a change for once.

After two hours, it turned out you had a lot more in common than you would’ve thought. Both of you like older music. Spent half the night talkin’ about old records alone. Your friend? She was long gone. You’d practically ditched her to talk to someone else. So, Joel offered you a ride home.

When you got back to his house. The night faded away. You had a few more drinks. But, so did he.

But you. You kissed him first. Drinkin’ and makin’ terrible choices was a thing that happened to you before. That’s why you never liked to drink. But on his couch, in his living’ room, you made the first move.

From there? It was nothin’ you can remember.

You didn’t talk after that. Not really. You had to leave early for work, and Joel? He was in the shower when you snuck out. Not your proudest moment pickin’ up pieces of your clothes. Heading back home.

The two of you would occasionally wave. And smile. The same polite nods you’d given each other before. But weeks went by, and now. You’re staring’ at six positive pregnancy tests on the counter wondering where this all went wrong.

You weren’t on birth control. It’s not like you remember much of what happened that night.

That feeling of needing to throw up already started creeping’ back. You’ve barely kept down crackers and ginger ale wasn’t helping either.

And now, you’re back on your knees. Throwing’ up into the toilet again.

You’re pregnant with Joel Miller’s baby. Something you never thought would happen in a million years. But here you are.

It’s been over two weeks since you found out. Three days since you went to the OBGYN. Who confirmed what six home pregnancy tests already told you.

The first appointment was how you expected it to be. Normal. As normal as it could be. You were alone. Too scared to break the news to Joel yet.

You discussed your options. Which you had spent way too much time thinking about. Eventually you decided that you were gonna keep it. Even before the appointment.

The doctor talked to you about what to expect. At almost nine weeks.

How the nausea might last until twelve weeks. Maybe longer.

“Every woman is different. Experiences different symptoms,” she said.

She gave you some suggestions. How you can take something called B6 to help. A few home remedies that you could try. Even a wristband that you could put on a pressure point.

She sends you for a dating scan the next day. To confirm how far along you are. Though, by your blood work she estimates nine weeks. But you already knew.

You sit in the ultrasound room. The smell of those lemon scented bleach wipes filled the room. It was cold. Freezing. And the sweet ultrasound tech shows you your baby. A tiny little bean lighting up the black-and-white screen. You cry. Not because you’re upset…but because it’s real. All of it. A small part of it might be due to hormones.

They send you home with a photo. That flimsy photo paper. One small, tiny photo of your baby. Yours and Joel’s baby.

You’re back to work. Back to a room full of kids. Pretending that you’re okay. Pretending that Brenda’s lunch doesn’t make you a little sick. Or that really nasty coffee they kept in the teachers lounge. How was it possible that an off-brand made you nauseous? But the name brand didn’t? When you get home, you look across the street. His brown house. The porch lights off. His truck ain’t there. It rarely is. Maybe it was on the off chance he decided to take a day off.

You take out your phone. Pulling up his contact. Just Joel. The only text you’ve ever sent him is still sitting there. Not like you deleted your text messages.

It’s from over a year ago. Something about the school needing’ to hire a contractor.

You: Hey. You: Are you home?

You knew he wasn’t.

But you needed an excuse to talk to him. After all…you needed to tell him. This was his baby too.

Joel: Workin’ late tonight. You need somethin?

You leave him on read. But the truth was. You can’t avoid it forever.

Saturday morning, while you ate your breakfast. You decide it’s finally time. You leave early enough. Head to the construction site he mentioned he was workin’ at. It was a longer project. Said it would be weeks worth of work.

This wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you break over a text message.

Hey Joel, so I’m pregnant.

That ain’t the best way to deal with this. You drive thirty minutes out there. When you stop the car, it hits you. God, it hits you hard. Harder than you thought it would. You almost talk yourself out of it. Out of this whole ridiculous plan while sitting in your car.

You shouldn’t do this. Can’t do this. What if he’s angry? What if he’s upset? What if you start crying ‘cause all these damn hormones racing through you?

You’ve never seen him angry. Never really been around him enough to know. He’s always been just… himself. Brooding. Seems lonely at times. Keeps to himself. But he’s always just…Joel.

The courage finally comes. You get out and walk toward the trailer. But Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, stops you.

You met him a few times. Over at Joel’s. He even stopped to talk to you once when Joel helped you fix a flat tire.

“You’re Joel’s neighbor, right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, giving a small smile. “Is he here? Need to talk to him.”

Tommy nods towards the trailer. “He’s here. Had himself a day,” he mutters. “Reckon he’ll be glad to see a face that ain’t mine.” You swallow hard.

Walking toward the trailer. Do you knock? Just walk in? Why the hell do you feel like such an angsty teenager trying to decide all this?

But, you knock. Twice.

You hear his voice through the door and step inside. “Tommy, I ain’t in the mood to–” he starts, then stops when he turns and sees you.

You stood there. A tired smile on your face. “Shit, sorry,” he says, takin’ off his glasses. “Thought you were Tommy. He’s been ridin’ my ass all day.”

“He, uh…warned me you were havin’ an off day,” you say.

He shakes his head. “Ain’t nothin’ new.”

You are silent. Can’t say anything or maybe there isn’t anything you can think to say.

‘Cause his day was possibly about to get worse. Finding out he’s gonna be a dad again, and at work of all places, isn’t exactly the kind of news that’s gonna go over easily.

“What’re you doin’ here, darlin’?” he asks, voice low. “Don’t get a pretty girl showin’ up at my work too often. ‘Specially not a neighbor who didn’t even let me say goodbye.”

Fuck.

Panic starts to set in. A little bit of nausea too. Was it warm in here? Or are you about to pass out on the floor? Or worse, throw up for the one millionth time.

“Can I–um–sit?”

“Course,” Joel says, nodding toward the chair.

You sit in the old chair. It was metal. Wobbly. But you were fidgeting, picking at your fingernails. Tryin to will yourself to just say it. You take a deep breath.

“I’ve known for a while,” you mutter, looking at him. “Just didn’t….didn’t know how to tell you.”

Just say it. Rip the damn band aid off.

“I’m pregnant.”

His face. His totally normal face that was there seconds ago. It goes blank. White as a ghost. Joel blinks once. “You’re what?”

“It’s yours,” you blurt out, panicking. “I haven’t been with anyone in a while, and you were the last person…”

You don’t finish the sentence. Don’t know if you can. He goes quiet. You get it. You just changed everything in his life with two words.

It stretches on. That shocked look on his face. God knows how long ya’ll were sitting there for.

The tick of the clock on the wall. The sound of construction going on outside.

He lets out a slow breath. “Well, shit.” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Ain’t usually good with words, ya know that. Sure as hell ain’t right now.”

You don’t know where to start. If you should apologize. If you should stay quiet. This was such a difficult situation.

“If you don’t want to be–”

“No,” he cuts you off, quickly. “Ain’t like that, darlin’. Just surprised.”

He pauses. “Just strugglin’ to wrap my head around it right now.”

You get it. If someone dropped this on you at work. On a stressful, exhaustin’ day. You’d be losing your mind too.

You’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact you’re pregnant.

“How sure we talkin’ here?” he asks.

“I went to the doctor,” you say. “No doubt about it.”

Joel sighs. Running a hand over his face. Fidgeting with a pen on the desk. “I know this is a lot all at once,” you murmur. “But it’s…happenin’. I’m keepin’ the baby but I don’t expect anythin’ from you, Joel.”

“We outta talk ‘bout this I get hom—”

But Joel’s cut off by the door slamming open.

“Hell Joel,” Tommy announces, steppin in, shaking his head. “Half the damn shipment’s missin’. Boys can’t do shit without it.”

“A’right,” Joel says, getting up from his chair. “I’m comin’.”

Tommy huffs. Muttering something as he slams the door shut behind him.

Joel looks back at you. Hand on the door. “We’ll talk more ‘bout this later.”

It’s been four days since you told him. Not like you’ve seen him. Not once. Every morning when you leave for work. His truck is already gone. You spent the whole day wondering. Did you screw up by telling him? Is this even something he’s gonna want in the long run? Maybe he doesn’t wanna be part of it.

Between the morning sickness and teaching first graders, it’s been rough. Hard to keep up during the day. You’re sleepy half the time and so fatigued. One cup of coffee was barely helping anymore.

Pregnancy makes it so you can only have one cup. No more. Limited caffeine.

It’s a shitty day without it. Not like you can remember the last time you had a normal one. You figure those don’t really exist in these first few months anyway.

But when you get home that night. Pulling into the driveway. He’s there.

Sitting on your porch steps. Black t-shirt with the construction logo on it.

Muddy boots. Jeans that are mostly worn and washed out.

“Hey,” you say, walking up to the steps.

Joel looks up at you with those hazel eyes.

“Know it’s been a few days,” he says. “Ain’t proud of that.” “I dropped a lot on ya,” you reply. “Sorry for that.”

You sit down next to him. It was something about it, sitting with him. Quietly on the steps. Lookin’ at the cars going down the street.

He rests his hand on your leg. “Ya doin’ a’right?” he asks. “Feelin’ sick or…any of that?”

Every single symptom seems to have creeped up on you. If there’s a checklist. You’ve got every fucking box ticked. But you don’t want him to worry. Don’t want him thinkin it’s his problem to fix.

“Mostly just not feelin’ great,” you admit. “End up gettin’ up in the middle of the night. Throwin’ up. Really, Joel, it’s okay–”

“You’re carryin’ my baby,” Joel says, eyes on you. “‘Course I’m gonna check on ya. Whether ya like it or not.”

My baby.

Words you didn't think you’d hear him say out loud. Words you weren’t so sure if you were ready to hear.

“I’m just…tired,” you mutter. “Ain’t got much energy between work and this.”

You two continue to sit on the porch.

Truth is, you don’t know much about him. He doesn’t know much about you either.

All you know is he’s guarded. Alone. Has a grown daughter you’ve seen maybe twice since you moved in.

Two people. Two strangers with completely different lives. And now…you’re having a baby. Together.

“I’ll tell ya,” he whispers. “Didn’t think I’d be doin’ the whole raisin’ a baby thing again.”

You never expected any of this either. Now you’re gonna be a…mother.

“I got an appointment comin’ up,” you say. “You can come with me. If ya want.”

“Yeah, darlin’,” he replies, squeezing your leg a little. “Ya just let me know when.”

Joel’s sweet. You’d expected him to be upset. Maybe even angry. But he surprised you. The way he handled it. The way he was trying his best at this moment. You reach into your bag. Pulling out the photo the doctor gave you. Handing it to him.

His calloused fingers take it. He looked down at the small black-and-white photo. Your name printed at the top. The tiny blob of the baby in the middle.

“Crazy, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “It really is.”

He goes to hand it back. But you shake your head.

“Keep it,” you say. “It’s yours.”

You stand up. Letting out a breath as you stretch. “I feel like I got hit by a damn truck. Gonna go lay down, Joel.”

If you sat there long enough. You could’ve fallen asleep right there on the porch steps. On his shoulder. With how damn tired you felt.

Everything felt like it was wearing you out.

You’re almost at the door when you hear him. “Sweetheart.”

You turn around.

“I’m here,” he says. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere. You need anythin’—you just let me know. Kay?”

“I know.”

The moment you close the door. You stand there. Waiting to hear his footsteps fade off the porch.

You wouldn’t trust anyone. Not really. Not in this situation. But for some reason, you decide to trust Joel Miller. Maybe for the first time in your life. You don’t feel alone.

taglist: @chewie-bars , @aquanatalie , @tupelomiss , @glitterspark , @missladym1981 , @pedropascalsbbg, @onlythehobi , @kungfucapslock , @streamermattsgf, @stories-we-read , @luciebisaku.

(if you wanna be added to the taglist, just comment here. I'm terrible at keeping track of stuff so this will help)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fics #joel miller/reader

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rika-mmendmethings · 3 months ago

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Against Blood & Water l Sylus

Chapter 1

CH 2 →

Summary: Seventeen years ago, your life had taken a turn for the worse when your newborn twins were separated from you by a cruel twist of fate. The same fate had led you to the N109 Zone, to your children who were all grown up now. Reconciliation with your boys would've been slightly easier had they somehow not acquired a father figure over the years who wasn't letting them go anytime soon.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. For this chapter: manipulative relationship, unplanned pregnancy, unresponsible man, parent child abduction, only angst in this one.

Word count: 1.8k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: This story is for the Sylus girlies' who consider Luke and Kieran their babies. There'd probably be some important questions in your mind after you finish reading this. Some of them would be revealed in the coming chapters. Slightly altered details would be present in the story but mostly it won't deviate from the timeline. A little information on the timeline: in this story, the reader is 35 with Luke and Kieran being 17. Sylus never felt like 28 to me so he's a hot ass 39 year old man (bear with me). The reader was pregnant just some weeks after she turned 18 so no, she isn't a minor. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask me and I'd try my best to give you a proper answer without revealing too much. Let me know if you wish to be added in the tag list for this. ♥

Seventeen years ago, October came like it always did — a month of crisp air and golden sunsets, a time when the year began to wane, and the world seemed to breathe its last sigh before the chill of winter. You had turned eighteen, your mind filled with the thoughts of new beginnings. Graduation from law school was right on the horizon, you could already picture the crisp white collar of your lawyer’s shirt, the feel of success at your fingertips. A driving license to claim, grown-up independence to savor, a girl’s trip to a sunny beach to mark your coming-of-age. The possibilities stretched out like an endless road, glittering and full of hope.

Then, a steamy night for the celebration of your birthday occurred and it brought along a twist of fate that’d change everything and become the most beautiful mistake of your life.

The moment you found out you were pregnant, it was as if the ground beneath you trembled. The bright future you had painted for yourself seemed to splinter into a thousand broken pieces. You had hoped, for one fleeting moment, that it was just a mistake. But the test was undeniable, the two pink lines standing as cold, unyielding evidence.

At that time, you thought that it was the end.

But then, there was him. Your boyfriend of four years, the boy who had promised you the world with every kiss, every touch. He held you through your multiple breakdowns, whispering soft reassurances. “We’ll figure it out, we’ll be okay. Family first, family always.”

The words sounded comforting at first, and you clung to them like a lifeline thrown into an ocean of uncertainty. You couldn’t even bring yourself to imagine your parents’ reaction. But somehow, in your heart, you trusted him. You believed that you both were in this together, that you’d somehow find a way to make everything work.

You told your parents three weeks into the pregnancy. Their reaction was what you had feared — disbelief, disappointment, a quiet storm of emotions. You expected them to disown you but you willed yourself to not jump upon any fear-induced scenarios. But then, as if they could see past the temporary cloud, they wrapped their arms around you, telling you that the ones who you call your own never leave you in any kind of situation. Your parents had stood as your shield against the societal backlash and never failed to take your stand.

Soon after, you broke the news to your friends and close cousins as well and all of them got together to host a small, no alcohol included, party for you. Some selective relatives of yours were slightly taunting you but they came around as well. You had been overjoyed seeing so much love and acceptance from the people you valued.

You had thought of your boyfriend, miles away handling his family’s business, telling you with a strange half-smile that his parents were abroad and they were supportive of your decisions, that they had already agreed. He informed you that he’d come with his parents to meet you after the birth of your children. And like the love-blinded fool you were, you believed him, your heart softened by his honey-dripped words.

He wasn’t around much during your pregnancy, much to your loved ones’ disapproval, but you dispelled their fears, telling them that he was just busy with his parents’ business. Though you didn’t feel alone during all your ultrasounds, gender reveal, and other precious moments.

Nine months passed, and the world shifted once again. You gave birth to twins, two perfect, crying little boys. Luke and Kierran — names given by you as strong as their tiny, trembling hearts. You looked at their faces, so innocent and unaware, and felt a surge of love that was deeper than any ocean, more infinite than the stars. They were your world, and in that moment seeing their tiny arms flail, you felt the warmth of motherhood in your chest. And you realized that your dreams may have been altered, but they were not truly gone.

The hospital room felt warm, a sanctuary of love and joy as all the visitors took their leave to let you rest. You smelled faintly of antiseptic, but in your delirious new-mother state, it was the smell of life. Your eyes fluttered closed as you slept on the bed beside their crib, your babies’ soft breathing a lullaby in the still night.

And then, you woke to a noise.

A shadow moved at the door, and you blinked through the haze of sleep.

It was him.

Your boyfriend.

He was standing there, a figure you hadn’t seen in at least four months, his eyes uncertain, his posture stiff. You smiled, expecting him to rush to the crib and hold our children, to finally meet the lives you two had created together, a symbol of your love. But instead, he moved toward you with a strange, almost frantic urgency.

Before you could react, he was there, the faint scent of chloroform filling your nostrils as his trembling hands pressed a soaked napkin to your face. Your eyes widened in confusion, and then the world blurred; your limbs grew heavy, and you lost consciousness.

And then… darkness.

When you woke up, it was afternoon from what you could tell. The faces around you were full of sorrow, your parents’ eyes swollen from crying, your friends silent, their faces stricken. The hospital staff stood nearby, their looks pitying and grim. Out of maternal instinct, you checked the crib and you found the place empty where your children were supposed to be.

"Where... where are my twins?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper. It didn’t help your gut as everyone became more sorrowful at that. The words barely lingered in the room before your mother’s sobs filled the room.

“They’re gone,” she said, her voice breaking. "Your boyfriend’s parents—they never approved of them. They... they made him do it. They made him abandon them."

The weight of the words crashed into me like a tidal wave. You couldn't understand, couldn't process the agony of the moment. He—he had abandoned them? My twin boys? My heart shattered, piece by piece, as the cruel reality set in.

“They—where are they?” you gasped your throat tight with the kind of fear that makes your body tremble, the kind of terror that comes from losing something more precious than life itself.

“They’re gone,” your mother repeated, her voice thick with pain. “He took them somewhere after you passed out… probably leaving them on the streets. And then... he ran away. He and his family took the first flight and are abroad now, so we can’t even track them down.”

The room spun, the walls closing in on you. It was a nightmare that you had awoken to, and you couldn’t escape. Your babies, your sweet, innocent twins, were gone. Gone because of him, because of his family. Because all of them didn’t want to take responsibility. And you had been blind enough to trust him.

That day, you had ripped the IV tube out of your arm and dashed out of the hospital in your gown before anyone could stop you. The following hours were a blur of endless searching. You scoured the streets, your hands trembling as you asked strangers if they had seen two newborn babies somewhere. But it was as if they had vanished into the ether, erased from the world as though they had never existed.

You hadn’t worn any slippers, and your feet were dirty, swollen, and even painted with dried blood as your family tried to get you back to the hospital, much to your denial. Once you were back on the bed with your condition rechecked and the room empty, you broke down into sobs. For nine months, you had carried your children and you didn’t even get to spend a whole day with them before they were already ripped out of your arms by the cruel hands of fate.

You had so many dreams that you imagined with them. Every special moment of their life was taken from you just because a boy refused to be a man. You threw the blanket off your body, bitter tears rolling down your cheeks. You felt like a terrible, terrible mother for even being in this air-conditioned room while your boys were out there in this unbearable weather.

Days passed and then months, the pain of their absence gnawed at you every second. You could hear their little cries, their laughter, their tiny hands reaching for me in the darkness. You could still feel the weight of their little bodies in your arms, their warm breath on your skin, and then, just as suddenly, they were gone. You’d see them grow up and then you’d wake up abruptly, drenched in sweat.

Every day, you fought the emptiness, the overwhelming loneliness that threatened to consume you. It was a tragic loss that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

But through it all, you told yourself — you would find them.

Even if it took a lifetime, you would never stop searching. Because nothing in this world could ever break a mother’s determination.

And as you searched, you clung to the memory of their tiny hands in yours, the soft whispers of their names as you held them tightly for the first and last time that unfateful day.

Seventeen years had passed since that fateful day, and now you were a highly successful lawyer working within Linkon’s judiciary system. The sense of relief and satisfaction that came from seeing criminals — especially kidnappers — locked behind bars was unparalleled. In a way, it served as a form of catharsis, a way to release the unrestrained anger you felt for the man who had stolen your bundles of happiness from you.

At present, you were secretly handling a case involving a notorious drug lord, but you had reached an impasse. Determined to break through, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You ventured into a few unlawful locations, hoping to gather enough intel to lead you to the evidence you needed. Your eyes lingered on the conspiracy board in your home, focusing particularly on the parchment handed to you just the day before at The Nest. It contained an address — a location pointing to an old warehouse where, according to sources, drugs were stored until they could be transported to the docks.

The warehouse was situated in the N109 Zone, an area infamous for its criminal activity. The judicial system considered it a nightmare, a place no sane lawyer would dare to tread. But then again, you had long since stopped being called "sane." Your colleagues knew better than anyone how stubborn you could be, especially when it came to cases like this. No one had yet managed to deter you from the dangerous paths you chose to walk.

You had devised a plan: gain access to N109 with the assistance of some wealthy clients, secure an apartment, and collect the evidence you needed. It sounded simple enough. Yet, as you prepared for your journey, a sense of foreboding crept over you, as if your very instincts were warning you of something to come.

But you didn’t care. The next morning, you set off for the N109 Zone, resolute in your mission.

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

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windixie · 4 months ago

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nerdjo x reader ⟢ real man

"... did you know that a quasar emits more energy in a second than our sun will in its entire lifetime?"

"uh... sure?"

༄.° pairing . nerd! gojo x popular! reader (f)

⤷ summary . a low grade lands you a tutor session with the nerdiest boy at your university with the help of the best wingman, your professor, who knows that gojo is your only way of improving that 59.6% in your physics class. your annoyance soon turns into admiration and maybe something else as you find yourself enjoying the late night study sessions. but what happens when the physic sessions turn into sex education?

warning ⓘ tags . (18+), porn with plot me thinks, smut, gojo will give you second hand embarrassment bless his soul, protected sex that will lead to unprotected, masturbation, praise kink, oral, p in v, cream pie. sub gojo heh. jealous gojo. perv gojo. obsessive gojo.

⤷ wc . 4k (not proofread)

a/n . this is my first actual attempt to writing good smut. never got the hang of it so hopefully this turns out good. the 59.6% is specific because that is MY current grade and I might just kms if nerdjo doesn't help me out.

a/n . 2 I enjoyed writing the friendship buildup more than the actual smut :p

waking up to an email sent by your physics professor was not the best way to start off the day.

"you've got to be kidding me.." you grumbled, with your morning voice attempting to read the title of the email as your blurry eyes adjusted to the bright screen of your phone. you weren't surprised when the subject was that you are being assigned a tutor. you were aware of your current grade, but you swore you would be able to raise it up. right after partying.

your roommate, and long term friend, peaks over your shoulder as she buttoned up her pants. "yikes, I'm surprised he hasn't admitted you to a tutor earlier, haven't you had the same grade for a while now?"

you sighed knowing she was right. your grade hasn't gone up even a percentage for the past two weeks.

'meet me in class before it begins today, perhaps 10 minutes before, ill be introducing you to your tutor and we'll discuss how things will work.'

and that's how you found yourself standing in front of your teachers desk awkwardly. "he'll be here soon, he's very punctual."

you nodded in acknowledgment. you wanted to play it safe and come a few minutes earlier than the given time written on the email. '10 minutes before class'. the said class begins at 9:40. it is currently 9:28.

he was punctual alright. the moment it struck the half hour, the door swung open to reveal a tall boy- no, a really tall boy. he had white hair and blinding blue eyes behind dorky glasses. despite his nerdy look, the boy had a few facial piercings. one on his eyebrow and his lip.

that's hot.

"satoru! come in, come" your professor gestured the boy to be next to you. satoru offered a small, shy wave, which you responded with a warm smile.

"so as we all know, y/n isn't doing so well in this class." you cringed feeling your face heat up. being exposed in front of someone as smart as satoru was the ultimate humiliation.

"here's what's going to happen. there is an upcoming review test before the final. you pass that and im 99.9 percent sure that you will pass the final with enough studying. I'll leave satoru to decide how the tutoring will work, but I expect you both to meet up at least four times a week."

four times a week? four times? a week. great.

session 1.

you dragged your body into the library with your tote bag full of textbooks and practice worksheets. the library was fairly crowded with students studying for upcoming exams. you being one of them.

making your way deeper into the study area, your eyes landed on gojo who was setting up the table with his headphones plugged in. you approached him but he didn't notice you.

"satoru..?"

no answer. he was in a completely different world with the way he was humming a tune which only brought you to your last resort.

you poked his shoulder lightly which caused him to jump a little, looking over his shoulder to meet eyes with you.

"oh! hi uhm im sorry..! I didn't notice you I was just uh setting up the table. is this place okay with you? we can always pick somewhere else if your uncomfortable with being way too-"

"no no its fine with me." you interrupted his babbling which you found endearing.

"right." he chuckled before sitting down which you followed.

"alright so what exactly are you struggling with?" he asked.

what are you struggling with? "everything" you answered honestly looking at the organized textbooks- all related to physics and.. digimon?

"so.. we can start off with the basics of fundamentals of motion. such as speed and distance and maybe add in some kinematic equations. you are familiar with newtons law, right?"

you nodded as you recalled to the only thing you remembered from this god awful class.

"okay so we can skip that.. but ill still explain a little bit of it towards the end, just to make sure."

that's how you spent your first session with the boy. he's amazing at explaining, learning more from him than any past lectures. the way he is so into it you can't help but space out at the way his lips move.

"for the equations, there are a few of them, ill give you three examples then write one of each so you can practice."

your eyes fixated at the way he neatly wrote down the letters.

"so uhm.. do I multiply or-"

"you subtract this from both sides."

"got it."

this was definitely going to take a while if you couldn't even handle the basics. you handed him back the sheet where you attempted the problems.

"seems like you have a bit of difficulty deriving the equations."

you sighed. how long has it been? forty minutes? and hour?

checking your phone you were surprised to see that only 15 minutes have passed?

'just kill me at this point' you thought.

"hey hey, no phones. can't have you getting distracted, hand it over"

"I was just checking the time! don't take it away pleaseee" you begged.

"you'll be tempted to check the time every five seconds, just hand it over." you reluctantly placed it in his hand. his fingers brushed against yours and you were surprised to see how soft his were.

"lets try again. this time ill watch you solve them so I can see where you start to go wrong."

2 hours have gone by and you finally grasped how to solve the equations involving motion and acceleration.

"good job!" the praise boosted up your confidence. "only took ya thirty practice problems but you got there." he teased as he adjusted his glasses. "thanks satoru." you rolled your eyes at him.

the way you said his name went straight into his head. both of them actually.

"we should wrap it up for today"

he reached into his bag pulling out a few sheets before sliding them to you. "try and finish these by wednesday, which will be our next session. oh-" the pale boy reached for his examples. "use these for reference if you forget again."

accepting the papers, you placed them in your folder before tucking it back into your bag. "thank you, I know i'm not the easiest to teach."

"non sense. you're the first person i've tutored to actually have motivation to learn."

"you've tutored others?" you tilted your head.

"course I have. anyways, study what we've gone over today. here's my phone number-"

"youre going to have to give me back my phone in order for that" you chuckled. it felt like satorus world paused for a second as he saw your smile.

"uh right.. sorry"

it felt great to have your beautiful cellular device in the comfort of your hands.

"I usually ignore my messages.. can I give you my instagram instead?" you asked.

satoru was a bit disappointed to not be able to have your phone number, but your insta was just as good. that way he'd be able to see pictures of you.

you both exchanged users, you with your whopping 2.3k followers and him with his 40. 41 including you.

he noticed that out of the 2.3k people that follow you, you only follow around 90. he felt honored that he would be one of the lucky ones to be blessed with your follow.

"great!" satoru couldn't help the dorky grin that crept up on his face. "text me if you have any issues with the work, mkay?"

multiple sessions have passed.

you felt yourself warm up with the boy, learning more about him and his nerdy interests and the upcoming 'name as many digimon characters as you can' contest that he's pumped for explained the character book you'd see every time you met up at the library.

which you both eventually ditched after accidentally catching a couple doing... activities one shouldn't be doing in a quiet environment.

satoru couldn't help but wish that was you and him.

you both settled for a nearby cafe where he always paid for your drinks and sugary treat which he's memorized by now.

"we should go over the vocabulary today" his fingers skimmed through several papers before pulling one out that had the key to all the words you had to remember.

you were progressing and you felt confident for the review and final which were both in three months.

"here write down the words on a separate sheet and try to answer them to see which you know and which you don't."

outside of your tutor sessions, you began saying hi to each other in the hallways, exchanging small smiles in class, and late night texts.

satoru [ 10: 37 PM]

-you complete the worksheets?

you [ 10: 40 PM]

-hi! I just need to finish up the last one then im all done

satoru [ 10: 41 PM]

-thats good, mind sending me what you've done?

you [ 10 : 45 PM]

[image attached]

-im actually at a party right now..

that led to a scolding from him the next day. he couldn't care less actually no matter how many times he said to restrain yourself from partying for now because of your studies. in reality, he just didn't want any boy to see you wearing whatever revealing outfit you decided to put on.

satoru would be lying that he wouldn't feel the way his inexperienced cock would harden whenever he would see the way your skirt would ride up your thighs as you sat so prettily in front of him.

you were completely unaware of how much you affected the poor boy.

"so how'd the contest go?"

"I won obviously. named all 1400 of em." he put his hands up in victory.

you laughed at how cute you found it. him being proud over beating a bunch of kids?

"what was the price?"

"a limited edition card. super rare by the way, you have like one in a thousand chance of getting it. here! I have it on me actually."

he pulled out a card that resembled Pokemon cards which he would get annoyed when you got the two of them mixed up.

"this is the ghost bt1 diamond. you can pick one out of any Digimon of your opponent or you can delete all the Digimon if they share a name with it."

his eyes lit up whenever he talked about his interests. and you loved that about him.

"sounds cool, how much is it worth?"

"hmm I think like 300 at most."

"yeah well I remember my brother has a Pokemon card that's worth 78 grand."

"do your damn work."

as you prepared to leave, he stopped you.

"here."

he handed you the digimon card making your eyes widen.

"you're giving it to me?"

"mhm, just remembered I already have a similar card that does the exact same as this one. no need for me to have it. besides I think it would look great on your phone case."

now, whenever he takes away your phone for your study time, he can't help but smile when he looked at the card neatly placed inside the clear case with a few stickers around it.

he’d find himself late at night in the comfort of his own dorm, with his hand hesitantly palming his growing bulge at the sight of your story. the picture was of you smiling cutely at the cafe you both went at. a picture he took.

you looked gorgeous. you are gorgeous.

he doesn't remember the last time he's jerked off. maybe once in high school when his favorite cosplayer dressed up as a beloved female character of his?

pulling out his needy length, he imagined it was you. a finger grazed upon his tip smearing the pre-cum a bit as he let out a few whimpers. would you hate him if you saw him like this? all horny and pent up because of your post? or would you help him?

no matter how much he stroked himself, he just couldn't finish. he needed you.

his eyes skimmed through various websites to help his situation out.

‘how to have the best orgasm in your life’

‘best stroking methods’

‘how the female anatomy works and how to pleasure it’

‘man finishes threehu-‘

wait what was that? he scrolls back up a bit clicking on the female anatomy one. he was met with several images. diagrams showing where the most pleasurable part was for a woman.

gojo hasn’t done this much studying since his calculus exam back in elementary. who the hell let’s a seven year old solve that shit?!

by the end of the day, his brain is now stuffed with knowledge on how to pleasure you. still zero clue on how he’s ever going to bust.

2 days.

2 days until you review test and you were.. stressed to say the least. thankfully you have gone over everything from the semester and gojo made sure that you were well prepared even offering to make you a cheat sheet, allowed by the professor, to help you out during the test just in case.

"toru."

fuck. when did you begin calling him that nickname? it made gojo feel lightheaded to the point where he had to grip the end of his chair as you approached him.

"hey I was wondering if we could study at my place tonight?" you asked sweetly.

“your place..? like, where you live?”

“I hope so?” you giggled.

“y-yeah i guess but why?”

you took a seat next to him placing your bag next to your feet on the floor.

“walked past the cafe and saw that it was closed due to some renovations”

“god i hope it’s the bathroom sink. that thing sprayed me”

you both laugh at the memory of him coming out the bathroom with his hair sticking to his forehead and clothes dampened. that was the first time you’ve seen him without his glasses.

you preferred him with them on.

but you couldn’t deny that either way he still looked so handsome especially when he rolled up his now wet sleeves of his black sweater revealing veins that adorned his arms.

“I hope so. anyways I’ll text you the address later.. or actually, we can walk together if you’d like?” you offered and who was he to decline?

“sure sweetheart.”

gojo recently picked up the habit of calling you sweet names which never failed in making your stomach leap in happiness. where’s he get the sudden habit?

‘how to fluster a girl.com’

god knows where.

your house wasn’t far from the campus since you’ve been planning on attending this university ever since you were a kid due to living 20 minutes away at a walking distance.

“my parents are away at a trip so we’ll have the house to ourselves”

fuck yeah.

“they doing a business trip or..?”

“it’s their anniversary. they flew out to france and didn’t even bother inviting me” you rolled your eyes playfully making the pierced boy laugh. he recently switched out his lip piercing after his last one fell off while drinking his coffee.

he took in your house as you arrived. looking at the memories plastered on the walls. this is where you grew up..

“want anything eat?”

you.

he shook his head. “I’m alright, I ate something not long ago.” you hummed while walking upstairs, him trailing behind just to get a glimpse up your skirt seeing the pink laced panties that made him let out a low groan. his pants were uncomfortable by the time you reached your room. it was a warm environment, posters on the walls, stuffed animals on the bed. the bed he would love to fuck you in.

“s’cute” he complimented placing his bag down before he stretched out his lanky body on your bed.

his sweater slipped up a bit revealing his v line as well as his white happy trail. your breath hitched as your eyes trailed down the patch of hair before landing on the raging boner that he had. no way.

was he hard?

despite having past experience yourself, no one has ever made you finish.

gojo propped himself on both his arms. “let’s just review what I taught you at the beginning first to freshen up your memory.” you barely took in anything he said as you approached the bed as well sitting down next to him before you felt bold. you shifted sitting down on his lap instead.

satoru let out a gasp before moaning. his hands found your hips immediately. “fuck.. what are you-“ he was cut off by your subtle grinding.

“we shouldn’t..” your heart sank a bit. “you don’t want this..? I’m just trying to help you toru.”

“I know baby but I haven’t.. well I’m.. I’ve never done t-this before, god..” he mumbled embarrassed. oh so that’s what this is. he’s a virgin. “I don’t mind.. let me help you”

“please-“

“shh..” you tugged at his jeans bringing down to his knees. “You’ve never done this before?” you asked letting your acrylics tease him through his digimon boxers.

“no.. no please fuck..”

his cute whimpers went straight to your heat as you finally tugged down his boxers only to be met with the biggest cock you’ve seen. it slapped his stomach the second it was released. he was thick. the pretty pink tip was slowly turning an angry red color as he panted.

you wrapped your hand around him stroking up and down his base watching him twitch. while keeping eye contact, you let some spit fall down his cock making him moan as you used your drool as lube. his hips bucked up as he felt the warmth of your mouth around him.

“t-that’s it..”

for the first time, your lips met in a sweet and needy kiss, your hand still working wonders on him. he placed a shaking hand on your ass cupping it making sure not to break the heated kiss.

“can.. can you ride me?” the way he asked shyly made you want to ruin him even more. you nodded watching him pull off his sweater. now by all means you had zero clue that this man was built as if god made him with his own hands. you did the same, quickly undressing before he stopped you.

“please.. please keep the panties on”

“you like em?”

“fucking love them.”

after carefully placing a condom you found in your drawer on him, you guided his tip to grind just right against you. “lift up your hips a bit toru.. just move them.. back.. and forth.. good job love”

the praise didn’t help Gojos situation at all. “keep praising me..” at this point his glasses were all fogged up. your finger hooked into your panties slipping them to the side so you could slip his cock in.

“so big..” you cood

“oh god, you’re right.. fuckkk baby wait.. wait wait” he moaned filling up the room with lewd noises. the plap, plap, plap echoed. large hands found your waist helping you ride him at a quick pace.

“shit.. you’re better than I imagined.” he groaned out biting your neck sweetly. “you’ve imagined.. this? ngh!” you were surprised to see him pick up the pace. “all the time.”

gojo thought back to the website he visited frequently. his finger found your clit circling it before rubbing it repeatedly. you head fell on his shoulder as you began to shake from overstimulation. “Toru..!”

“this is where you’re weak, right? most girls have an orgasm immediately after teasing the clit”

“ngh.. nerd..!”

“so sensitive”

the raspiness in his voice was enough to make you finish. for the first time ever. gojos hips stuttered as he pulled out watching your juices spill out. he brought his fingers to his mouth tasting you. “you taste good babe”

panting, you removed the condom from his still hard length before slipping him back in.

he wasn’t even half way in before ropes of cum went inside you making gojo close his eyes letting tears of being overstimulated fall down his pretty flushed cheeks.

“be my girl..”

four things happened that day.

you came for the first time

you took away gojos virginity

you were both now dating

you didn’t study at all

but the cheat sheet did help you out a bit. after finishing up the last question, gojo walked over to the teachers desk placing it on top of it. he was the first one out of everyone to finish, like always. he looked up to where you were seated.

there you were, more focused than ever biting your nail as you answered the equations as if it was muscle memory. he was proud, smiling to himself before leaving the classroom.

toru ! [ 7: 45 AM ]

-results are in today 👀

you [ 7:46 AM]

-im nervous… i think i failed it bro im so scared toru

toru ! [ 7: 48 AM]

-I doubt that sweetheart

and he was right because the second you received back your paper with a beautiful 92% written on top of it you felt like you were in heaven. you ran towards gojo wrapping your arms around him excitedly.

“I did it! look!” you showed him your paper.

“told you. good job am proud of ya” he grinned as he once again felt his cock throb at the way you were squeezing him. “what’d you get?”

“100%”

“show off.”

he barked out a laugh before placing his hands on your hips. “we should celebrate.” he suggested. “with cake?” he hummed tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear before letting his thumb rub on your cheek affectionately. “sure pretty.”

885 notes · View notes

emeraldmew · 5 months ago

Text

Animorphs Bookclub schedule

Let's do a tumblr book club for Animorphs!

The idea is to read one book a week and post about it with the tag Animorphs Book Club.

March

March 2-8: #1 The Invasion

March 9-15: #2 The Visitor

March 16-22: #3 The Encounter

March 23-29 1: #4 The Message

April

March 30-April 5: #5 The Predator

April 6-12: #6 The Capture

April 13-19 #7 The Stranger

April 20-26: Megamorphs #1 The Andalite’s Gift

May

April 27-May 3: #8 The Alien

May 4-10: #9 The Secret

May 11-17: #10 The Android

May 18-24: #11 The Forgotten

May 25-31: #12 The Reaction

June

June 1-7: The Andalite Chronicles

June 8-14: #13 The Change

June 15-21: #14 The Unknown

June 22-28: #15 The Escape

July

June 29-July 5: #16 The Warning

July 6-12: #17 The Underground

July 13-19: #18 The Decision

July 20-26: Megamorphs #2 In the Time of the Dinosaurs

August

July 27-August 2: #19 The Departure

August 3-9: #20 The Discovery

August 10-16: #21 The Threat

August 17-23: #22 The Solution

August 24-30: The Hork-Bajir Chronicles

September

August 31-September 6: #23 The Pretender

September 7-13: #24 The Suspicion

September 14-20: #25 The Extreme

September 21-28: #26 The Attack

October

September 27-October 4: #27 The Exposed

October 5-11: #28 The Experiment

October 12-18: #29 The Sickness

October 19-25: Megamorphs #3 Elfangor’s Secret

November

October 26-November 1: #30 The Reunion

November 2-8: #31 The Conspiracy

November 9-15: #32 The Separation

November 16-22: #33 The Illusion

November 23-29: #34 The Prophecy

December

November 30-December 6: #35 The Proposal

December 7-13: Visser

December 14-20: #36 The Mutation

December 21-27: #37 The Weakness

January 2026

December 28-January 3, 2026: #38 The Arrival

January 4-10: #39 The Hidden

January 11-17: #40 The Other

January 18-24: Megamorphs #4 Back to Before

January 25-31: #41 The Familiar

February

February 1-7: #42 The Journey

February 8-14: #43 The Test

February 15-21: #44 The Unexpected

February 22-28: #45 The Revelation

March (again)

March 1-7: #46 The Deception

March 8-14: #47 The Resistance

March 15-21: The Ellimist Chronicles

March 22-28: #48 The Return

April

March 29-April 4: #49 The Diversion

April 5-11: #50 The Ultimate

April 12-18: #51 The Absolute

April 19-25: #52 The Sacrifice

May

April 26-May 2: #53 The Answer

May 3-9: #54 The Beginning

#animorphs #animorphs book club #if someone wants to recommend changes regarding the placements of the chronicles and megamorphs let me know #version with just the schedule

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clockwayswrites · 4 months ago

Text

City Pigeons Bleed Green, p 28

Masterpost

The world tilted sideways as Danny let himself bump into a stalactite. He was drifting idly around the ceiling of the Batcave. Ostensibly, he was was down there to keep Bruce (who was benched with a badly sprained wrist) company. Really, Danny just liked the excuse to be on the comms and get to talk to everyone.

He still didn’t want to get out there himself.

Danny had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Bruce or Dick or Damian to make some comment about Danny starting to train or would he maybe just like to tag along… but nothing had happened. He had even had to ask himself to spend time Bruce downstairs while he was benched. He was starting to believe that they really wouldn’t try to talk him into being a hero.

(He even had been changing into his ghost form more often to test it.)

“It will be May in a few weeks,” Bruce commented out of no where.

It was a slow night.

“Yeah?” Danny pushed at the rock to drift down towards his dad. “Does May mean something special?”

Bruce leaned back so that he could look up at Danny. “Mostly for Damian and Duke, though I suppose Tim and Steph will also be grateful. It’s the end of the semester.”

“Oh! Yeah, school. I guess I… sorta forgot about school,” Danny said. Which was stupid. He knew that Duke and Damian went and that Tim and Steph were in college.

Bruce just smiled softly. “I figured that maybe you had. I’m bringing it up because we should think what you’re going to do about schooling in the fall.”

Danny didn’t know what to say to that. “What… do you think I should be doing?”

“Getting an education,” Bruce said, unhelpfully. “If you don’t feel like you’re ready to be back in a traditional school, I am sure that we can find an online home schooling option that is decent enough. If you are feeling up to going out each day, I think there is an easy argument to be made to put you in the same year as Damian.”

Danny drifted down to float over the console. “Oh, yeah, I bet we could.”

Officially, Danny’s birthday was now almost a year earlier to match when Annalise’s child would have been born. It also made it… easier to ignore the time he had missed by being in the box. The change had put him and Damian pretty close in age, which had been something the dubiously titled news had loved to focus on after Danny’s existence had been announced. Danny felt sorry for what Bruce had been put through because of him.

From Danny’s end, the announcement had been been almost anticlimactic. He hadn’t even had to go to the press conference. Bruce, Tim, and Babs had really handled everything, though Babs didn’t attend the press conference in any form. That had mostly been Bruce with Tim there for moral support. Danny’s injury and past isolation had been an easy excuse for him to not appear.

Tim had taken some pictures of Danny to release too. He had said that it would give less value to what the paparazzi could get if there were already pictures of Danny out there. It had been unexpectedly hard for Danny to deal with the pictures. He’d changed so much from who he had used to be. And Danny knew, intellectually, that it was good that he had; it would make him harder to identify. But Danny hadn’t expected to feel another wave of mourning for who he had been.

The scars were whole thing too.

Absently, Danny traced his finger over the clinical scar that ran along his jaw. His hair, still long even after being trimmed, brushed against his fingers. He wore it up sometimes, pulled back into a tiny ponytail, but it was nice to have it down. It gave him something to hide behind. Duke mentioned giving Danny an undercut if he wanted, but it was something Danny was having to consider. It was nice to be able to make his own choices again.

“Danny.”

Danny shook his head a little to clear it. “Yeah?”

“Damian would look after you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny said with a little smile. While he wasn’t outright bragging about it (yet), it had become a point of pride that he was Damian’s favorite brother. He didn’t try to claim favorite sibling, Cass was around, after all. She might get Damian in a headlock more often than a hug, but Danny could see how much Damian respected her. “It’s still scary though.”

“It’s alright that it is. Homeschooling is an option.”

“I know, you said.” Danny sighed and set the tips of his toes on the ground. “But… I think… I think that maybe getting back out around people is a good idea, even if it’s scary.”

Bruce smiled in that small little way of his that Danny was starting to learn meant that Bruce was proud. “I’ll get in contact with the school then and get you registered for next year. I’ll try to put you in as many of Damian’s classes as possible, but I want you to be sure to choose the electives that you want to take, not just what Damian is taking.”

“Okay, yeah, that makes sense,” Danny agreed. Besides, he knew that both of them liked art so maybe at least one of them would still be the same.

“Good. Now, the thought for summer was that we’d start out a vacation in Kansas.”

Danny’s nose wrinkled up at that. “Why? What’s in Kansas?”

“The Kent family farm.”

Danny almost spun himself around scrambling more upright. Jon had talked loads about the farm and his grandparents when he had visited with his dad and older brother. “Oh! Really? They’re… they have that sorta room?”

“Not for the whole family. To start, it will be you, Damian, and myself. Tim will join us with Kon, Duke, and Cass a bit later,” Bruce explained. “Then Cass will continue on with you and I to Arkansas, where Jason and Dick will meet us.”

If Danny’s heart had been beating, it would have skipped several thumps. “Arkansas? I can… I get to go see Jazz?”

“We think that everything will be safe enough by then. Dick has been working hard with the Titans to make a plan for the GIW, and the Justice League is ready when we’re needed. You’ll be able to see Jazz.”

Danny slipped out of the air and landed on the edge of the console with a flash of light as he transformed. He practically leapt as soon as he hit the floor and threw himself at Bruce for a hug. It wasn’t surprising anymore that Bruce caught him.

“I’m sorry that it’s taking awhile,” Bruce said.

“No, don’t be. I know why it had to,” Danny assured Bruce as he just let himself relax into the hug. “I’m just so happy that I can see her again and let her know that I’m okay.”

Bruce’s hand rested on top of Danny’s head. “And I am so glad that you are. I’ll make sure to work out all the details. We still need to stay quiet about it, but with Barbara’s work, we can set up a secure way for you two to talk even if right now you won’t be able to visit too often. When things are more settled, we can set up an excuse for why she knows one of your siblings so she can visit same as Stephanie and Barbara and various Titans do.”

“You think we can?”

“I’m sure we can. We’ll rope Lois and Clark into if it we need to. Or Diana—Wonder Woman. She’s been pouting that she hasn’t been able to meet my newest child yet.”

“What?” Danny squeaked and then quickly cleared his throat. “Wonder Woman wants to meet me?”

Bruce chuckled. “Very much so. We may even have to invite her over for some evening for dinner. Or maybe for a cookout in the backyard along with the Kents. Perhaps even the Flash family? They’re close with Dick and Tim both, and they certainly make things lively.”

“Yeah, that sounds great. Whoever people want,” Danny said.

“Are you sure?”

Danny pulled back to sit against the console again and nodded. “If they’re that close to you guys, I know they’re good people. I like when the Kents visited. Jon’s real nice, even if I think Damian didn’t like having to share him. It would be nice to meet some other people. I’ve got to get used to it again anyways, being around people I mean.”

Bruce gave that proud little smile again. “I’ll talk our potential guests then and the other kids. We’ll set up a nice day here in May.”

“And then Kansas in the sumer.”

Bruce hummed in agreement.

Danny glanced away and out onto the Cave. He ran his fingers over his scars on the opposite hand. “I… um, is there maybe somewhere we can stop on the way?”

“It might have to be it’s own trip, but if there is somewhere you want to go, we can figure it out. Where is it you want to go?”

“I want to stop by Annalise’ gave, if she has one I mean.”

“She does,” Bruce said, his words softer than they had been. “Old family lines with money tend to. Would you like to go soon? I believe that we could make it a day trip, though it would be a long day.”

“Would that be okay?” Danny had wanted to visit since he had agreed with his new back story. The urge had only gotten stronger what with the considering and mentions of his new age and birthday.

“Of course. We can go during the week even; it will be quieter to travel then. I’ll check on what might be the best day tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Danny said gratefully as the tension went out of him in a whoosh.

“Of course, chum, of course.”

---

AN: This chapter is going to be a lot of Danny & Bruce bonding it turns out! I think there were be the other part of this one and then one more chapter.

#dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons

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ginnsbaker · 1 month ago

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All Of Your Pieces (28 - Coming Home)

Chapter Summary: Wanda’s absence had never stopped aching through your bones. Her memory lived beneath your skin like a scar that would never fully heal. And as much as you tried to let go, there were nights when you lay awake wondering what she’d think if she ever saw you now. If she’d understand the choices you made in her absence. The quiet, ruthless way you’d turned off parts of yourself just to survive. If Wanda came back, would she still love you? You didn’t know.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 6k | Chapter Tags: Angst all the way

A/N: Can you believe we are more than halfway to the end? Thank you for sticking with me :) // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Three years have passed.

A gentle exhale brushed your skin, slow and steady, like waves retreating from the shore. The first thing you felt wasn’t the sunlight slipping through the curtains—it was Kia’s arm draped loosely over your waist, her leg tangled with yours. She was still asleep, pressed close, her body radiating heat that expelled the never-ending cold of Reykjavik. Three years and you were still not used to its climate. You blinked once, twice, trying to shake away the remnants of dreams that clung to your mind.

Then you shifted, careful not to wake Kia. But she stirred anyway, sensing your movement, her eyelids fluttering as she peeked at you through one half-lidded eye. Her dark hair was mussed, and you almost laughed at how absolutely perfect she looked—sleep-warmed cheeks, lips parted in a silent yawn. She fixed her eyes on you, and a smile slowly crawled its way to her dry lips.

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice still husky.

You responded by pressing a soft kiss to her temple. In return, Kia took your hand and let her lips graze lightly across your knuckles. Your mornings had been like this nearly every day—quiet, simple, sweet. The kind of peace you never thought possible back when you were sweating through old mattresses in rundown rentals as Ronin. That life feels like a distant nightmare now—one Kia somehow managed to wake you from.

You shifted to prop yourself on one elbow, looking down at her. “So… any chance you could stay home today?” you asked, light teasing in your tone as you massaged her neck, causing her to purr. “I know you have to work, but I was thinking… we could call it a personal day.”

She laughed weakly. “I can’t exactly make a habit of it. Besides, I don’t think my patients would appreciate me vanishing on a whim.” She reached to smooth the collar of your sleep shirt, her fingertips dancing down your collarbone. “You know I’d love to, though.”

You let out a theatrical sigh. “You never bent the rules for me,” you said, hoping to coax another smile from her.

“I did,” she replied softly. “Just not the ones that put other people’s health at risk.”

“You’re irritatingly noble, Dr. Heimisson.”

She leaned in for a kiss. It lingered, your fingers sliding into her hair. You tilted your head, chasing more, your mouth parting slightly as your tongue brushed against hers—testing, asking. She didn't pull away. If anything, she leaned in, her hand tightening at the back of your neck. You smiled into it, knowing exactly what you were doing.

Then, just as things started to tip, she pulled back. “I’ll make us coffee,” she said, her voice low and a little reluctant.

She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, pausing just for a second before standing. Her scrubs were still folded on the chair from last night. Always neat.

By the time she’d pulled on a shirt and stepped out of the bedroom, you found yourself glancing around the room, the life you’d built together mapped out in the small details. A couple of photos on the dresser. A shared sock drawer. A small stack of your books in the corner (you’d stopped hoarding them a while ago), trading in the ones you’d finished for used copies you hadn’t, from the only bookstore in town. Sometimes, in moments like this, you could still feel the shape of who you used to be. The horrible things you’ve done. But it didn’t take over anymore. Not like it used to.

You passed into the kitchen and saw her hovering by the coffeemaker, quietly humming a tune you had taught her. She offered you a mug, steam curling into the air.

“You heading out today?” she asked, her soft blue eyes curious. It’s your favorite part of her body. Eyes always held the most power over you, capable of commanding you in ways nothing else ever could.

“Just errands,” you answered. “Groceries, maybe. If you think of anything else we need, text me.”

She nodded before inching closer to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear like she always did. You reached past her for the sugar; her hip nudged yours, a silent order to hold still. You answered with a playful grin, letting her plant a quick kiss on your cheek before she slipped out, the front door clicking shut behind her.

The house went still. You stood there for a while, basking in the quiet morning.

You didn’t know it yet, but that quiet wasn’t going to last.

—

A call came a few hours later. You were halfway through your grocery list, staring at tomatoes that didn’t look particularly ripe, when your phone vibrated. You missed it. But it was quickly followed by a text, signed by a name glowing on the screen that made your pulse spike.

Steve Rogers. You hadn’t heard that name in… well, in a long time.

You hadn’t really spoken to anyone from the old team in the last three years. Just a handful of letters from Natasha after she somehow tracked you down. You responded, politely, once. You told her you were okay, but asked her not to write again, and she respected that.

When you stepped into life with Kia, you swore off everything that came before. No ghosts, no familiar faces, a clean slate. You told yourself it was the only way anything could feel real again.

Though, somehow, you never managed to throw out Wanda’s things.

They stayed in the basement, buried in boxes you hadn’t opened in years. Somewhere back there were old photos, her worn red jacket. The ring you picked out together—meant to match Wanda’s—now hangs from a chain around your neck. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away, but you couldn’t wear it either.

Hers, you imagine, turned to dust long ago.

Your phone when it rang again, causing you to jump in surprise. For an instant, you almost let it go to voicemail. Old instincts kicked in, though—your heart pounded with the sense that if you ignored it, you might have regretted it forever. So you tapped the answer button, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Y/N?”

That voice that used to inspire a room of heroes was unmistakable. It really was him. Your response got stuck in your throat, so you managed little more than, “Steve… yeah. Hey.”

He asked how you were, and you gave him the kind of answer people give when they don’t want to get into it. He tried to stretch the small talk, but you could feel it—this wasn’t that kind of call.

“You can skip the pleasantries, Steve,” you said, not unkindly.

He let out a quiet sigh, then got to the point. “There’s a way. A way to bring them back.”

You swore the world tilted. You gripped your phone tighter, your steps faltering. “What are you talking about?” you asked, but you already knew. The question was just instinct, something to fill the space where air had suddenly become hard to find.

Steve breathed heavily on the other end. This wasn’t some vague, wishful bring-them-back idea, you could tell that much already. Whatever it was, it ran deeper than a theory. It felt like driftwood tossed to the drowning—long overdue, and just barely enough to hold onto. And he was clearly trying to figure out how to explain it to you. Still, you held out any hope that it was true.

“We’re close to a plan,” he explained. “We think we can reverse what happened five years ago—undo the Snap entirely. Tony and Bruce have figured out how the Quantum Realm—”

“What’s that?”

Steve paused. You could practically hear the internal God help me sigh. It made your lips quirk a little into a small smile.

“It’s… okay, so, it’s like a pocket dimension where time moves differently. Or slower. Or maybe not. I don’t know, it’s—” He stopped himself, clearly spiraling. “Look, kid, if you want more science, you’re gonna have to ask Banner or Tony. Or basically anyone else on the team.”

You let out a small, stunned breath. “Okay…”

“All I know is, they’re almost entirely sure that it would work. And we need you.”

That last part settled into your chest and lodged itself there.

“We’ll retrieve the Infinity Stones from different points in our past, bring them back here, and use them to bring everyone back,” Steve continued. “But we’ll only have one shot at this. Once we’ve fixed things, we’ll return the Stones to their rightful moments so we don’t create alternate timelines.”

“You’re saying time travel?” It came out in a choked whisper.

“Yes. It’s a ‘time heist,’ as Scott calls it.”

The longer the call dragged on, the more questions piled up—none with clear answers. But for now, you let them sit. There’d be time to sort through the mess later.

“What exactly do you need from me?”

“Tony’s got two jobs for you,” he began. “First, there’s a mineral he needs for the time-space GPS we’re building. Without it, the machine might be too unstable to use. There’s a museum in Houston that has it. It’s heavily guarded. Unofficially, too, since this mineral isn’t exactly common knowledge.”

“And after I hand over this mineral?” you asked.

“You’ll join the team to retrieve the stones.”

It sounded simple enough. But you were curious about one more thing.

“Why me?” you asked.

“This has to be a stealth job, and with Natasha going after Clint, there’s no one else who can handle this off-the-radar. You’ve got the skill and the anonymity.”

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the ‘end call’ button, giving yourself one last chance to forget about all this. “So… no official channels?”

“Exactly,” Steve said. “We don’t want to risk alerting the government, or anyone else. If this fails, it could devastate people all over again.”

“You said it would work,” you replied evenly.

“I know this will work. It has to.”

You wanted to laugh at the irony. The phone felt hot against your ear.

“Do I have time to think about it?” you asked.

Steve sighed. “You have until tonight.”

—

The hours between that call and Kia’s arrival home were excruciating. You found yourself pacing the living room, your mind stewing in guilt as it replayed Wanda’s laughter, the perfect shape of her face and the feel of her hand in yours. Over and over and over again.

And then there was Kia. The woman who’d patiently, gently pieced your broken heart back together, who had stayed through the wreckage until life began to feel solid again. Who loved you at your worst. Was it even right to push against destiny like this? To rewrite history, bend the universe to your will, and reverse events already set in motion?

But as quickly as you questioned it, your own logic countered: nothing about Thanos snapping half of all life into oblivion had ever been natural or just. Maybe this—this chance Steve offered—wasn't defiance at all, but a way to correct a cruel imbalance, to make things whole again. You’d never felt whole since that incident. And neither did Kia even though she’d never said it out loud.

You told yourself firmly this wasn't a choice between Wanda and Kia. But deep down, from the moment Steve uttered those three impossible words—bring them back—you knew the decision had already been made. If there was even the slightest chance to undo the damage, you'd reach out and take it, consequences be damned.

By the time Kia’s key rattled in the lock, you’ve turned over Steve’s proposal a thousand times in your head. She stepped in, setting her work bag on the nearest chair. The way she looked at you—face drawn, concern evident in her eyes—told you she could sense your tension.

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately, drawing near.

You forced yourself to speak. You told her about Steve’s call, about the mission to reverse the Snap, the potential to bring back everyone who vanished. The unspoken word at the center was Wanda, but there was so much more: thousands of families, including Kia’s. Her own daughter, her husband.

Kia stood perfectly still as she processed it. You saw the flicker of hope in her eyes even as her features twisted with longing and fear.

Then she spoke softly, her voice trembling. “Is this really possible? Can they… can they bring my daughter back?”

That question squeezed your heart. Suddenly, you realized that your desire to see Wanda again paled next to Kia’s longing for her child. She had carried that emptiness with her every single day.

“Yes,” you managed to say, your voice thick. “We think so.”

Kia’s lower lip trembled. She didn’t cry, but you could feel how much she’s holding back.

“Then do it,” she said. “Help them.”

You reached for her hand, needing to feel her close, even as the distance between what you had and what might come stretched wider by the second. Neither of you said it out loud, but the truth hung there. If this plan worked, everything would change. Bringing everyone back meant rewriting entire lives, and this thing between you and Kia, it didn’t exactly fit into the world before, or the one that might follow.

Even thinking about it felt wrong. Selfish. Ugly.

You could feel yourself splitting into two realities. This reality with Kia, and the reality that dissolved with Wanda. You couldn’t find the words. You just held her hand tighter.

Kia looked away for a moment, like she could already see the ripple effects waiting on the horizon. Then her eyes found yours again. “Whatever happens,” she said softly, “we do this for them. For everyone who didn’t get a choice.”

In that moment, your love for her swelled and bloomed and gave you courage.

—

You left before dawn the next morning, a small duffel in hand, its contents carefully chosen and arranged the night before. Sleep had come in sparse increments, anxiety keeping you company. Houston was a thirteen-hour flight away; Tony had arranged an unregistered Quinjet, and you spent the journey reviewing the museum’s floor plans on a tablet.

The museum in question was near the outskirts of downtown Houston, housed in a stately old building renowned for its obscure geological exhibits. The public wasn’t aware of just how rare that “obscure” gem in its vault truly was. According to Tony’s notes, it was a type of mineral that reacted unusually to quantum energy—a piece critical for stabilizing the time-space GPS he and Bruce Banner were building. Without it, the device might overload on its own power.

As soon as you landed, you made your way to a safehouse on the city’s edge—just a nondescript apartment Tony had secured. There, you changed into dark clothing that offered maximum agility and minimal interference. You double-checked your infiltration tools—glass cutters, a slim electronic lockpick, and a tiny EMP device for any modern security measures.

There were nerves crawling under your skin you hadn’t felt in years. After everything—the missions,bloodshed you and Clint left scattered across cities, you didn’t think you were capable of feeling this shaken anymore.

Maybe it was because the entire operation hinged on this one task. If you failed, the rest of the plan fell apart. You cursed Tony under your breath. Now it made sense why he picked you. If things went sideways, you were the easiest to blame. He probably never thought much of you to begin with.

But he wasn’t wrong to choose you. Because no one had more riding on this than you, and no one was more determined to see it through.

Kia’s face flashed in your mind. Then Wanda’s. You forced your thoughts back to the present mission. “Let’s do this,” you muttered.

It was close to midnight when you arrived at the museum. The streets were quiet, most of the late-night commuters having already cleared out. You surveyed the main entrance from a safe distance—bright spotlights illuminated the grand facade, and security cameras perched like watchful owls along the eaves. Slipping around the side, you found a smaller service door just beyond a chain-link fence. There was a single guard on patrol, circling the perimeter with the slow, practiced boredom of someone who never expected trouble.

You timed the guard’s route, waiting behind a low hedge until he disappeared around the next corner. A quick jolt from your custom lockpick shorted the rusted padlock on the fence; it fell open with a dull click. You eased through, crossing the short distance to the service door in a half-crouch. Its old keypad glowed faintly. You attached a signal disruptor over the panel and waited, heart pounding in your ears, until the tiny light flickered green. The door clicked open.

Inside, darkness swallowed you. Only emergency exit signs and faint overhead safety bulbs gave any illumination. You consulted the mental map you’d memorized from Tony’s briefing, picturing the route to the restricted vault near the geological exhibits. There’d be motion sensors in the main corridors, so you stayed pressed to the walls, gliding past an open archway into a side hallway. You activated your handheld scanner, just enough to detect where infrared beams might crisscross. Sure enough, a series of faint red lines sliced through the corridor ahead. You ducked below one beam, then twisted sideways to avoid another. The entire maneuver would have made your old trainers proud.

Though there was a dull ache in your lower back from having been sedentary all these years.

Step by careful step, you progressed until you reached the thick, steel-reinforced door of the vault. A digital keypad glowed in the quiet gloom, showing an eight-digit lock. You expected that. What you hadn’t expected was the second biometric scanner installed next to it—an update not in Tony’s blueprint. You forced yourself to calm down, reminding yourself you’d done this before. Stealth ops always required a bit of improvisation.

You removed a small device from your belt pouch—another one of Tony’s countless inventions. It emitted a pulse that temporarily scrambled biometric scanners, forcing them to default to a bypass code if the user had one. But that code changed daily. You hoped the museum staff wouldn’t have updated the secondary system just yet.

By some cosmic stroke of luck (or Tony’s genius), the device beeped once, and the scanner’s screen flickered. A prompt for a four-digit override code replaced the biometric prompt. With your electronic lockpick engaged, you let it cycle through potential combinations at high speed. Tense seconds ticked by. Finally, a soft click hissed from the latch, and the vault door slid open two inches, revealing a small interior chamber lined with secure cases.

Your target lay in a sealed glass cylinder at the center, the mineral’s deep violet hue faintly luminous even in the shadows. In that moment, you sensed how important it was, how it seemed like a full circle moment. This was the literal keystone for rewriting history, for forging a path back to life as it once was. Or as close as it could get.

Carefully, you placed a glass cutter against the cylinder. The diamond tip whirred almost silently, creating a neat circular hole in the thick glass. You inserted a slim vacuum rod and slipped out the mineral. It was heavier than expected, humming with an odd energy in your hand.

Before you left, you remembered your promise. You took a small folded note from your pocket (paper, so it couldn’t be easily traced), and placed it inside the now-empty cylinder.

It read:

“I’m sorry I had to do this. Don’t worry—I’ll return what I borrowed exactly two weeks from today. It needs to save the world first.”

You signed it with only a small symbol at the bottom—a private insignia you once used on covert ops, but nothing that would blatantly identify you. Then you turned, tucking the mineral into a padded case in your suit.

A short ride later, you were safely back at the safehouse, the artifact secured. You tossed your gear onto the small kitchen table and let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. The note you left would cause a stir; the museum might tighten security. But you planned to keep your promise.

You just hoped you’d live to see that day.

—

Three days later, you’re back where it all started.

You thought you’d be a little teary-eyed, considering this is where you’ve spent nearly half of your life. But what you felt instead was relief. Relief that the compound still stood. You watched the building for a long moment, soaking up the calm before the storm. In your right hand, you clutched the mineral that would complete the time machine.

“Aren’t you coming inside?”

You’d know that voice anywhere.

Clint Barton stood a few feet away, shoulders slightly hunched, looking nothing like the Ronin persona he’d worn over the past few years. He looked more like the old Clint, the one you didn’t know you missed so terribly.

You offered a faint nod and took a step forward, your boots crunching softly against the gravel.

“Didn’t expect to see you here first,” you said.

He gave you a wry smile. “Didn’t expect to be here at all.”

You exhaled slowly. The mineral pulsed faintly in your hand—your hand that had once gripped a weapon more than anything else, had learned to hold Wanda’s fingers with reverence, and later, Kia’s with gratitude.

Clint’s gaze dropped to it. “That’s what I think it is?”

You gave a small nod. “Final piece.”

“So… we’re really doing this?”

You looked at him then, really looked at him. “I’m not sure we are. This part’s on me.” You offered Clint the mineral and he cupped it carefully, turning it over in his hand.

“I thought you’d be suiting up with us,” he said. “Steve and Tony said you’d bring the piece. Didn’t think you’d just—”

“Drop it off and leave?” you finished, managing a faint smile. “That was the plan.”

Clint tilted his head. “Mind telling me why?”

“I told Steve and Tony I’d help find the last component. That’s it. That felt… enough.”

Clint stared at you for a beat. After all these years, he knew you too well to take your words at face value. “That’s all there is to it?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “No. Of course not.”

Clint waited, giving you the space to say it when you were ready.

“There’s a whole life waiting for me,” you said. “Far away from this place. With Kia. We built something that doesn’t need saving. And if I sign up for this—really sign up for this—I’d have to see it through to the end. To the moment someone snaps their fingers and brings everyone back.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze.

“And if she’s there, if Wanda comes back before I’m ready—” your voice faltered. “I don’t know if I’d be able to make a fair choice.”

Clint was quiet for a moment, jaw clenched, eyes soft. Then he nodded, slow and solemn.

“I get it,” he said. “God, I really do.”

He kicked at the gravel lightly. “I used to tell myself I went down that path to protect my family. After they were gone, I needed someone to blame for the world falling apart. You know that better than anyone.”

“I do,” you murmured.

“I dragged you down with me,” Clint added. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, eyes stinging. “No. We dragged each other. We weren’t… good for one another back then. We weren’t accountable. We made each other worse.”

Clint looked away, jaw tight. “Yeah.”

You both stood there in silence for a while, watching the horizon blur into a late afternoon haze.

“Do you really think this’ll work?” you asked.

“It has to,” he said.

“And when it does?” you asked. “What are you going to do when you get them back?”

He glanced at you, resignation in his eyes.

“I’m going to surrender,” he said simply. “Turn myself in. The Accords were a mess, sure, but they weren’t wrong about everything. We need to be kept in check. All of us. We don’t get to come back from the things we did without consequence.”

You hadn’t expected that. Not from the man who once broke half a dozen laws to make it home in time for his kid’s birthday.

“You’d really do that?” you asked quietly.

Clint nodded. “Even if the mission works. Even if they come back… I won’t get to just go back. I’m not the person they left, Y/N.”

You swallowed, his words hitting too close to home.

“They’ll still love you,” you offered, though it felt insufficient. They didn’t land with the comfort you intended. Maybe because you didn’t believe them yourself.

Because you’d been asking yourself the same question for years.

Kia had offered you peace when the world gave you nothing but silence. She saw you, even when you didn’t want to be seen. She gave you a reason to keep going.

And yet, Wanda’s absence had never stopped aching through your bones. Her memory lived beneath your skin like a scar that would never fully heal. And as much as you tried to let go, there were nights when you lay awake wondering what she’d think if she ever saw you now. If she’d understand the choices you made in her absence. The quiet, ruthless way you’d turned off parts of yourself just to survive. If Wanda came back, would she still love you? You didn’t know. And the truth of not knowing had been eating at you for longer than you were willing to admit.

“Yeah,” Clint said, almost smiling.

You nodded slowly, not sure whether to admire him or mourn him.

“I hope they see the man who kept trying,” you said softly.

Clint gave a small smile. “You too.”

He held out the mineral to return it, but you shook your head.

“Give my regards to Tony,” you said.

You reached out, clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Bring them home,” you said. “All of them.”

“I will.”

He looked down at the mineral in his hand again, and then back at you.

“Go,” Clint said. “Before you change your mind.”

You nodded, taking one last look at what remained of your past before turning away. You wouldn’t look back. Not this time.

—

You returned to Reyjavik a few days later. By then, it was all over the news—

The impossible had happened. The Avengers had done it. They brought everyone back.

Airports were flooded with reunions. There was celebration and chaos. The world was finally waking up from a nightmare. And you… you were still trying to process the fact that it worked.

The first thing you did was look for Kia. You needed to see her face, hold her hand—just know she was okay. You walked into the apartment and found it empty, cold in a way that went beyond the absence of people. Kia wasn’t waiting for you at the door.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, her back to you, shoulders rigid. Her fingers were curled tightly around a mug.

You spoke her name—soft, almost a prayer.

She turned, and that’s when you saw it. Something in her had already retreated.

“I didn’t know if you were coming back,” she said.

You shook your head, smiling faintly. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

You hadn’t expected a joyful reunion, not with everything this victory implied. But you also didn’t expect it to feel this fragile, like tiptoeing across eggshells.

Kia looked down at her lap, and for the first time, you couldn’t read her at all. Moments later, she stood up and walked to the window.

“Maria is back,” she said. “And so is her father.”

‘Her father’, and not ‘my husband’. A deliberate choice of words. Kia talked to you often about them, but it was different now that they aren't gone.

You forced a smile. Whatever this might mean for you, some part of you was genuinely happy for her. Deeply, fiercely happy.

Because you remembered the way Kia used to trace the shape of her daughter’s photo with her fingers late at night when she thought you were asleep. You remembered how she’d spoken about her husband with reverence and regret in equal measure. The two deepest holes punched through her soul—now filled again.

“They’re back,” you said softly, like you needed to say it yourself to believe it.

She still hadn’t looked at you. “They’ve relocated to the other side of town for now. Temporarily.”

Temporarily.

A quiet warning. A gentle ending dressed up as a maybe.

You nodded, jaw clenched against the tremble that wanted to rise.

“Are you okay?” you asked, because it mattered more than anything else. Even now.

Especially now.

She turned to face you then, finally. Her eyes were raw, rimmed with exhaustion and uncertainty. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “You gave me a reason to keep living. You helped me breathe again. But he’s here. They’re here. And I—God, I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”

Your heart split clean down the middle, slow and silent.

You took a step back, giving her space even though you were already drowning in the distance.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” you said. “You’re allowed to not know.”

Her eyes continued to brim with tears. “This—them—none of it would be possible without you,” she prattled on.

You opened your mouth, not knowing what to say, but then she closed the distance between you.

And kissed you.

Hard. Desperate. Tasting of salt, mostly. Her hands tangled in the collar of your jacket like she was scared to let go, and for a moment, you let yourself believe.

But you felt it. The tremor in her fingers. The guilt in her kiss. How it was more of gratitude than desire.

“I love you,” she said again and again against your lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You closed your eyes.

Because you believed her. You really did.

But you also knew.

You had always known.

This was the last fire before the ashes. She would always carry you in her heart. She would always remember what you gave her. But you would not be the person she came home to when the dust settled.

And you would never, ever ask her to be. You wouldn’t be the one to imprison her in your arms when everything she’d ever lost had finally come back to her.

You brushed her cheek with the backs of your fingers and kissed her forehead.

“I know,” you said quietly.

She tried to hold your gaze, eyes swimming with confusion, as if she could see something in you starting to slip away. She wiped at her face, breath shaky. “What should I make for dinner?”

You smiled at her gently. “Nothing. Just relax, okay? I’ll pick something up from our favorite place.”

Kia blinked. “Are you sure?”

You nodded.

You gave her one more look, soft and grateful, then turned your back before she could see you fall apart.

And as soon as you reached the patio, your shoulders shook.

You pressed your hand to your chest to steady yourself, biting back the sound that wanted to escape your throat.

Because that kiss—her love—was real.

But it wasn’t enough.

—

You turned yourself in to the international authority a week later, after making sure everything was in place for you to disappear cleanly.

Steve handled the details—wiping your existence from every known database, scrubbing records, clearing traces. All except one. A single dossier remained, buried in Stark’s system, written by Natasha herself. Steve couldn’t bring himself to erase it. Not something she’d written. Not even if it’s something as small as a file about you.

You understood. All you asked was that he marked your status as deceased. He tried to talk you out of it, of course. That there were other ways.

But when that didn’t work, he reached for the one thing he thought might—

“You were the first person Wanda looked for,” he’d said quietly. Well, you weren’t that person from five years ago. Wanda would’ve been mistaken.

You took Clint’s place without asking his permission. He had too much to lose, and you figured you didn’t—at least not compared to him. You listed the crimes in clear, practiced detail. The missions you’d completed. The blood on your hands. The times you looked away. You took it all.

Owned it all.

Not because they were all yours—but because someone had to.

They processed you like any other criminal. Stripped you down. Tagged your belongings. Asked you questions you didn’t flinch answering.

Clint was furious when he found out. He caught up with you before the transfer. They had you in cuffs, but it was immaterial. The guards gave you both a moment, recognizing that Clint wasn’t going to be stopped by protocol. After everything, they’d grown lenient with the Avengers. Especially now, with the miracle of the return still fresh in everyone’s minds. They didn’t even understand why they were incarcerating one of them in the first place.

“What the hell are you doing?” Clint’s voice cracked, his hands fisting at his sides. “This wasn’t the plan.”

You didn’t bother correcting him. There had never really been a plan after you retrieved that mineral.

You shrugged. “Oops.”

Clint slammed his fist against the nearest wall, startling the guard by the door. “Goddammit, I was supposed to be the one—”

“Your family is waiting for you,” you told him gently. “Natasha didn’t sacrifice herself so you could just throw your life away. You know that.”

The name alone unraveled him. “And she didn’t die so you could do this, either.”

“I’m not throwing anything away. I’m making sure something good comes from all of it.”

Clint’s shoulders sagged in defeat. You saw the conflict in his eyes, the desire to talk you out of it, to remind you that Wanda would want a choice in the matter. But you had already made yours, and time felt precious then.

“I’m not just taking the fall for you, Clint,” you said softly. “I’m taking responsibility. For the things I’ve done. The choices I made. I can carry this.”

His eyes reddened, tears threatening to spill. You’d only ever seen him like this once before.

“I never wanted this,” he whispered.

“Me neither.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he asked the one thing you’d been waiting for. “What about Wanda?”

Wanda was alive and well now. There’s no more war left to fight. You could still picture her living in the suburbs, watching her sitcoms, maybe even finding love again someday.

“Give her back everything,” you said. “The things I’ve kept. The property in New Jersey. It’s hers. She should have a home.”

“It’s going to kill her to think you’re gone.”

You exhaled slowly. “Wanda’s stronger than anyone thinks. Stronger than she thinks.”

Clint shook his head. “She’s not stronger than losing you.”

You didn’t answer. There was nothing left to say. There’s just the hollow ache of knowing you wouldn’t be there to see if your words held true. Instead, you merely asked Clint to look after her.

And when the guard finally escorted Clint out, your entire frame gave out like a deflated balloon.

You spent your first night in the cell sitting upright, hands in your lap, staring at the far wall. The fluorescent lights buzzed above you. The world outside moved on.

And inside, you stayed very still.

You had given Wanda your heart.

You had given Kia your hope.

And now, you have given away your liberty.

Somewhere, in a kinder universe, they all got to live their lives without grief. And maybe, you were there with them.

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covid-safer-hotties · 7 months ago

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Also preserved in our archive

By Sarah Schwartz

Test after test of U.S. students’ reading and math abilities have shown scores declining since the pandemic.

Now, new results show that it’s not just children whose skills have fallen over the past few years—American adults are getting worse at reading and math, too.

The connection, if any, between the two patterns isn’t clear—the tests aren’t set up to provide that kind of information. But it does point to a populace that is becoming more stratified by ability at a time when economic inequality continues to widen and debates over opportunity for social mobility are on the rise.

The findings from the 2023 administration of the Program for the International Assessment of Adult Competencies, or PIAAC, show that 16- to 65-year-olds’ literacy scores declined by 12 points from 2017 to 2023, while their numeracy scores fell by 7 points during the same period.

These trends aren’t unique in the global context: Of the 31 countries and economies in the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development that participated in PIAAC, some saw scores drop over the past six years, while others improved or held constant.

Still, as in previous years, the United States doesn’t compare favorably to other countries: The country ranks in the middle of the pack in literacy and below the international average in math. (Literacy and numeracy on the test are scored on a 500-point scale.)

But Americans do stand out in one way: The gap between the highest- and lowest-performing adults is growing wider, as the top scorers hold steady and other test takers see their scores fall.

“There’s a dwindling middle in the United States in terms of skills,” said Peggy Carr, the commissioner of the National Center for Education Statistics, which oversees PIAAC in the country. (The test was developed by the OECD and is administered every three years.)

It’s a phenomenon that distinguishes the United States, she said.

“Some of that is because we’re very diverse and it’s large, in comparison to some of the OECD countries,” Carr said in a call with reporters on Monday. “But that clearly is not the only reason.”

American children, too, are experiencing this widening chasm between high and low performers. National and international tests show the country’s top students holding steady, while students at the bottom of the distribution are falling further behind.

It’s hard to know why U.S. adults’ scores have taken this precipitous dive, Carr said.

About a third of Americans score at lowest levels PIAAC is different from large-scale assessments for students, which measure kids’ academic abilities.

Instead, this test for adults evaluates their abilities to use math and reading in real-world contexts—to navigate public services in their neighborhood, for example, or complete a task at work. The United States sample is nationally representative random sample, drawn from census data.

American respondents averaged a level 2 of 5 in both subjects.

In practice, that means that they can, for example, use a website to find information about how to order a recycling cart, or read and understand a list of rules for sending their child to preschool. But they would have trouble using a library search engine to find the author of a book.

In math, they could compare a table and a graph of the same information to check for errors. But they wouldn’t be able to calculate average monthly expenses with several months of data.

While the U.S. average is a level 2, more adults now fall at a level 1 or below—28 percent scored at that level in literacy, up from 19 percent in 2017, and 34 percent in numeracy, up from 29 percent in 2017.

Respondents scoring below level 1 couldn’t compare calendar dates printed on grocery tags to determine which food item was packed first. They would also struggle to read several job descriptions and identify which company was looking to hire a night-shift worker.

The findings also show sharp divides by race and national origin, with respondents born in the United States outscoring those born outside of the country, and white respondents outscoring Black and Hispanic test takers. Those trends have persisted over the past decade.

#mask up #public health #wear a mask #pandemic #wear a respirator #covid #still coviding #covid 19 #coronavirus #sars cov 2

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runninriot · 7 months ago

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Pining Idiots

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 28

prompt: pining | rated: T | wc: 1.000 | tags: post vecna, mild angst, feelings realisation, love confession, friends to lovers, best friend Robin Buckley

"You are both so stupid. Hopeless and stupid." Robin throws her hands in the air, frustrated and all out of patience.

Steve must've heard her say those words about a hundred times already but still, he can't find it in him to believe that there's even a flicker of truth within her reasoning.

If Robin were right, Steve would've caught Eddie by now, apparently stealing glances at him. Because there's no way he'd miss Eddie's dark eyes lingering on him, not when Steve's own - for whatever reason - are constantly locked on the guy. He feels naturally drawn to Eddie, has this weird connection to him he can't really explain. But contrary to what Robin is trying to make him consider, he doesn't accept that it's... love.

They're friends. Good friends, maybe even the best. Grown so close over time that now, barely a day goes by where they don't spend time together. Always attached at the hip, somehow even worse than he is with Robin. And yes, Steve gets that it comes off strange for any outsider to see them cuddling and touching and kissing each other goodbye on the cheek without shame. That's not what male friends do, not usually. But fuck that, it's nice.

He enjoys the physical contact. Likes to relish in the other man's warmth when their bodies are pressed together on the couch, one arm around the other's shoulders, or a hand resting on the other's thigh. He likes the familiar scent of leather and cigarette smoke that clings to Eddie's hair and skin, enveloping Steve's senses whenever they're close. Eddie's presence calms him, makes him feel less on edge. After all those years of fighting Demons, it's a blessing to feel at ease.

Eddie is good for him. And Steve knows he, too, has an impact on Eddie. That he's less fidgety when Steve is near. That whenever the healed wounds start to phantom-ache, Steve's hand atop his shirt soothes his body's memorised pain.

They're each other's lifeline, something to hold on to when the turbulent waters of nightmarish dreams threaten to pull them down. This... trauma bond they share, this friendship, keeps them both afloat. But that's all there is to it.

They are not the pining idiots Robin says they are. Apparently too afraid of their feelings for each other, unable to acknowledge that there is something more between them. Emotions allegedly written all over their faces – Robin says it’s obvious, but it’s not.

This isn't love.

It can't be. Steve cannot let himself fall for this ridiculous idea. Because once he goes down that path, once he starts listening close to his heart in search of the truth, there will be no going back.

And he's not ready to lose what he has. Because inevitably, that would be the result of him breaking down the walls he's built to keep his own emotions in check.

Steve cannot love like a normal human being. He is too much, wants too much, gives too much - his love is smothering. All-consuming.

He'd only push Eddie away.

"Why don't you just ask him?"

Robin's words rip him out of his thoughts and he blinks at her confused.

They're still standing in the kitchen, their friend's voices coming from the other room.

"You know, if you don't believe me, why don't you ask him if it's true? And if it's not, well. You got nothing to lose. 'Cause you're not in love with him anyway, right?"

He doesn't miss the teasing tone, knows she's testing him, trying to break through his thick skull because she knows that he's lying to himself. Knows him better than he knows himself.

"And what if you're right?" he asks, seemingly catching her off guard with his question.

"What if you're right and he does love me back. What then? You really think I won't fuck it up again this time? That I won't ruin it again?"

It hurts to say out loud, to admit that his worst fear isn't rejection. It's the thought of having himself to blame for when it doesn't work out. As always.

And it hurts even more when Robin's face suddenly softens, eyes full of pity when she takes his hands in hers.

"Babe. It wasn't your fault. Nancy- wasn't the one for you, that's all. You were both meant for someone else, and you-" she squeezes his hands for emphasis, "You could have all those things your stupid, big heart is yearning for. Your person is sitting right there, probably already losing his mind because you've been gone from his side for too long."

Robin laughs but her eyes are glassy and Steve can feel a tear making its way down his own face.

Fuck her for always hitting him right where it aches the most. Where her unforgiving honesty settles and sticks and makes something warm spread in his chest.

"I know he loves you. And, as dreadful as the thought is because you two are going to be the worst couple ever, I hate to see you both suffer over nothing. Just talk to him. Tell him how you feel."

She pulls him into a hug, holds him tight while he lets his tears fall unrestrained. It's relieving but scary, because she is right.

"Hey, uh, everything okay?" Eddie's voice suddenly breaks through the silence, startling them apart.

"Glad you're here," Robin says, "Steve's got something to tell you." And with that, she leaves, a big grin on her face that only grows wider when Steve huffs out a wet laugh, mouthing 'I hate you' at her.

"Stevie, are you okay? Have you been crying? What's wrong?"

Steve melts at the softness of Eddie's words, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

"I- I think I'm in love with you, Eddie."

After a moment of silence, Eddie's lips curl into a smile.

"Oh, well. If you're sure, let me know. I've been dying to finally kiss your pretty mouth.”

#steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie holiday drabbles #prompt: pining

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dandelionsresilience · 3 months ago

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Dandelion News - April 22-28

Based on the results of this poll, for the next few weeks I’m gonna test out doing 5 articles a week instead of 10, as part of an effort to maintain my own mental health. If these half-sized posts get markedly fewer notes, I’ll try to figure out a different compromise.

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Turning Surfboard Waste Into Sustainable Housing

“A Hawaiian architecture firm has found a creative way to repurpose discarded surfboard foam by transforming it into building blocks for constructing homes. […] The firm also partners with local businesses to collect foam from packaging materials[….] While the materials used are lightweight, they still offer excellent insulation and durability, addressing both environmental and practical needs.”

2. HHS Walks Back “Autism Registry” Plans

“Thursday April 24th, HHS said in written statements to multiple journalists that they will not be creating an autism registry, contrary to Dr. Bhattacharya’s statements. HHS’ reversal on creating an autism registry shows that even when it seems that no one is listening, your voice matters. Public outcry seems to have caused HHS to change course and walk away from some of the most concerning aspects of the project. Right now, HHS does not appear to be creating a centralized list of autistic people that could be used against our community.”

3. Teaming up to track the Pacific walrus

“In Alaska, western scientists often collaborate with Alaska Native hunters when counting, tagging, and/or sampling wildlife. The Indigenous knowledge and expertise that these hunters bring encompasses everything from animal behavior and capture techniques, to reading the weather and sea ice.”

4. Workers in 600+ US Cities to Protest 'Billionaire Takeover' on May Day

“The protests will take place in over 600 cities in all 50 states, said organizers[….] “Across the nation, we're reclaiming May Day in the spirit it was born, in solidarity with immigrants, in defense of all working people who make our schools run, our hospitals heal, our trains move, and our cities thrive."”

5. Loos to loaves: How the ‘nervous wees’ of London Marathon runners are being turned into fertiliser

“The campaign is powered by Peequal, a company designing women’s urinals that it claims are 2.7 times faster to use than traditional port-a-loos[.…] Instead of being sent into sewage systems, the collected urine will be treated using bacteria to extract nutrients like nitrogen, a chemical that wheat craves. The fertiliser will then be trialled on test fields to evaluate its performance. According to NPK Recovery’s estimates, 1,000 litres of urine could eventually grow enough wheat for about 195 loaves of bread.”

Bonus: Wildlife livestreams!

April 15-21 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

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roguishcat · 9 months ago

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Augustarion Day 28 – DILF (MNDI)

Rating: 18+ (MNDI)

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader

Set in Act III

Tags: smut, piv sex, fingering, breeding kink, fluff, Astarion being a brat, Astarion in love and unapologetic about it.

One-shot, 3.5k words

❤️Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think! ❤️

Apparently drinking a stupid amount of alcohol with random strangers at taverns occasionally came with significant advantages. In your case, you won a bet and were granted a once in a lifetime opportunity - to see into your future.

You didn’t tell the others. Perhaps you were being cautious. Or perhaps you were being selfish. You were sure that they would want to see the aftermath of the fight against the Absolute. As you would, if anyone else came to you and claimed that there was such an opportunity.

But the odd creature, whoever they were, warned you that it would be unwise to see a significant event, lest you accidentally altered your actions in any way and that would affect a pivotal moment and alter your future in a potentially devastating way.

Therefore, you decided to keep your secret close to your chest for the time being, opting to see what would happen 10 years from now, hoping that you and the others would still be alive then.

So, taking a deep breath, you said the incantation and waited. You felt a warm breeze against your face and opened your eyes. You were at a beach. No, at the beach. The same beach where the Nautiloid crashed.

As soon as your eyes adjusted to the light, you saw Astarion in the distance, shirtless and standing in the sun. A sceptic would say that there was no way that this could be happening, that there was no way for this to be Astarion. That the possibility of him being out in the daytime and bathed in sunlight was impossible.

But you were certain that it was your vampire that was slowly, leasurely strolling in the midday sun. You felt it with every fibre of your being.

This was Astarion. Barefoot and shirtless, his eyes trained on something that you couldn’t quite see, the lines of his face soft.

You felt your eyes fill with tears at the wonderful sight. Did that mean that you would somehow figure out a way for him to walk in the sun? The possibility, and perhaps also the hangover, had you feeling a little dizzy.

“Dad! Look what I’ve found!”

You turned around and saw a little girl, five or six if you had to guess, sprinting towards Astarion as fast as her legs could carry her and then all but crashing into him.

Astarion turned fully to look at his daughter and you saw him holding a baby in his arms, all sweet little curls and toothless smile.

Your heart squeezed as you looked at the three. Astarion smiled and said something to his daughter as she held up her prize. You took a cautious step forward and then another, mesmerized and wanting to see more.

Then he looked up and you could swear that he was looking right at you. Astarion was even more handsome, if that was possible. Same lightly muscular frame, but he seemed to have gained a little weight. He seemed healthier and you swore there was some colour in his cheeks. Astarion looked content. Confident, relaxed, happy.

The man smirked and it made your heart flutter in your chest. It felt as if he wasn’t looking through you, but actually at you. Luckily, he seemed to be the only one paying any attention to you. The little girl was now attempting to climb up his leg and into his arms, hating that she was being ignored and being quite insistent about getting attention from her father. No paternity test needed, she definitely got Astarion's attitude.

“Sweetie, what did I tell you about climbing daddy like that?” you heard your own voice and snapped your head sharply in that direction.

“Not when he is holding my brother?”

“That’s right.”

And then you saw yourself approaching Astarion. You could not make out your face, but there was a definite roundness to your body and a waddle in your step. Did that mean you were pregnant?

Apparently this Astarion was a man on a mission to populate Faerûn with his progeny. He followed your line of sight and smirked, silver curls bouncing as he lifted his chin up and gave you a self-satisfied grin.

You felt yourself being pulled away, but he didn’t break eye contact. Before you disappeared, you could have sworn that you heard him say, “This isn’t a goodbye. But rather a see you later, darling.”

You woke up with a start in your shared bed, Astarion, your Astarion, rising as he felt the sudden movement.

“My dear, is everything alright?” he asked with concern, brushing a lock of your hair out of your face. “I found you passed out on the floor earlier. You had me worried.”

“Peachy!” you squeaked, pulling the blanket higher in an attempt to cover your face. “Why would you ask?” you laughed awkwardly. You have always been a terrible liar, you didn’t know why you even bothered.

“Oh, no reason. It’s just you can’t look me in the eye and your cheeks are flaming red. You can’t be embarrassed over getting plastered at the tavern. Out with it, did you have a naughty dream?” he trailed a hand down your thigh and squeezed. “And spare no details, I want to hear every gory, depraved thing that goes through your mind.”

“No. Nothing like that," you waved him off. "But it was lovely. And of course you were in it.”

“Oh? Did I sweep you off your feet?”

You were not really sure how to explain it. Would he get annoyed that you were offered to see your future and chose to see something so inconsequential? But you didn’t want there to be any secrets between you.

“I sort of… saw our future,” you started, knowing that he would demand to know more.

“Come again?”

“In a nutshell, won a bet and got to see the future. Not much else to it. And I- I didn’t want to risk screwing anything up by seeing how the battle against the Absolute goes, so I just decided to see what will happen 10 years from now. I saw you. And our children and you…”

“Oh? And how do I look 10 years from now? Beautiful, I imagine.”

“You look so happy. And intoxicatingly handsome, of course,” you sighed dreamily, unable to quite let that image go.

“Well, I never thought that I would be jealous of myself, but I guess here we are,” Astarion chuckled and pushed you gently before crawling onto the bed. “Just means that I have to try much, much harder, if I am to keep up with competition.”

“So… you are okay about the children part?” you looked at him from underneath your lashes. “I thought you hated children, you complain about them enough,” you blushed as Astarion played with the ties of your nightgown, gradually loosening them as he twirled them around his dexterous fingers with a thoughtful look on his face.

“I complain about you taking in a stray after stray, yes. But being a father,” he paused a beat, “I never thought about it, admittedly. Not with the tadpole, constant fighting and near-death experiences being pretty much an everyday occurrence. But now that I am thinking about it… I wouldn’t mind it. With you, that is.”

You felt him pull at your underwear with his other hand, as he wiggled out of his own with impressive speed. Even when you were pressed for time in the past, you couldn’t remember ever seeing Astarion strip with such urgency.

“Wait! Now? As in, right now?” you panicked as it sunk in and his hands began their assault on your clothing. Your vampire seemed to have arrived at the conclusion that he would most enthusiastically start procreating as of this moment, and your sleepy self did not understand his intentions until he was literally on top of you.

“Yes,” he growled.

“No!”

“Yes.”

“Astarion!”

“Well, from what I heard of dhampirs, it is quite an undertaking that will require a rigorous routine. So, think of this as practice, us getting ready. And it’s not a race dear, it’s a marathon. One might say-”

You covered his mouth with your hand, because clearly Astarion was not done talking and him talking was usually just a way to distract you so you would drop your guard enough for him to pounce.

“But the others- hey!”

You felt him nip at your hand and quickly withdrew.

“Are not here and will not come back for a while, we have all the privacy we need. And anyway, you got me all worked up with all that sweet talk only to leave me feeling all blue? Oh, my sweet, have mercy!”

You probably should have said no. Because Astarion realistically had no way of knowing when the rest would be back. He wasn’t even putting much effort into making the lie sound convincing, just looked at you with a cocked brow and a subtle, infuriating smirk. You realised that although he was very much good to go, Astarion was holding himself back, waiting for your consent. Always waiting for you to tell him or show him that you were on board and a willing participant. You lifted yourself up enough for your lips to touch his, tongue darting out to tease his bottom lip. Astarion deepened the kiss, holding your head up with one hand as the other brushed lightly against your neck.

His mouth left yours and you whined at the loss, making him chuckle.

“So, I’m assuming this is you saying yes?” Astarion went lower, curls tickling your skin.

“Okay,” you moaned when his fangs grazed the swell of your breast and his tongue found your nipple, every lap of his tongue delivered with a self-satisfied hum.

“Tell me more about what you saw. I’m curious what would make one ‘intoxicatingly handsome’.”

“I- wha?”

He wanted you to talk? Like to actually form coherent sentences at a time like this? Because your brain was currently in standby mode and you wouldn’t be able to manage much unless it was yes, please and yes, yes, more!

But apparently that was not an option. Judging by Astarion’s reaction, he very much desired you to tell him what happened in every detail. It wasn’t the first time he wanted you to talk during sex. But usually it was along the lines of narrating what you were doing to him or pleading, moaning for him to do more to you.

"Why?" you asked.

"Why not?" he shot back with a cheeky smile.

That twist of his lips was downright evil.

“I am curious,” he admitted easily, fingers skimming along your hipbone, the touch featherlight and playful. “And I would like to satiate my curiosity, just as you, my sweet, would want to come out of this sated. All it would take is some words. Such a little thing to ask of you, all things considered.”

This was torture.

You tried pushing your hips up, but he effectively trapped them under long, splayed, playful fingers.

Astarion found that if he just stared at you long enough, you would fidget and eventually give in to his demands. He was not wrong.

“…fine,” you grumbled, crossed your arms over your chest and looked away from him huffily, which only seemed to amuse Astarion more.

“And don’t start from the end. I want to know everything. Be a good girl and you will get your reward. Now get on with it, dearest!”

You looked at him carefully and what you saw made your heart melt a little. Astarion’s eyes were bright with genuine curiosity and you couldn't help but indulge him.

“I said the incantation, stating that I wanted what will have happened in 10 years. And the next moment I was at the beach.”

“The beach? As in the beach where we crashed?” he frowned.

“Yes. And I saw you almost immediately. You were cradling a baby who was you spitting image. All sweet downy curls,” you smiled softly, wistfully. “And our daughter, from what I saw of her, looks so much like you too.”

You were glad that they took more after their father. Truth be told, you never felt yourself to be attractive enough to be with someone as beautiful as Astarion. You knew that he loved you, saw something in you that you yourself could not see. And that was enough.

Sensing your wandering thoughts his teeth bit your bottom lip hungrily and sucked, making you cry out ever so softly.

He released your poor, abused lip. Because he wanted nothing but a little taste.

“And what were you doing, my sweet? The future you?”

“I am not sure, I saw myself very briefly. Just as I was being whisked away. But I swear that I was pregnant.”

“Mmm.. two children and one on the way. You fertile thing. How good of you to allow me to have my fill of you. But then again, no matter how well you hide it under those coy smiles and pretend protests, out of the two of us you are the voracious one.”

You were about to protest, but whatever you were about to say was cut off by a moan as he pressed his thumb against your clit. With a practiced motion Astarion rubbed lightly, applying more pressure as he felt you squirm. You gasped and arched against him, the action pressing your breasts to his chin.

He pressed a kiss to one and then and promptly bit a nipple, lathering it with saliva and blowing softly until it peaked out obscenely. Satisfied, Astarion brought the same attention to the other breast, thoroughly enjoying the way you came undone for him.

Desperately, fighting against the intensity of his onslought, you pushed at him, wanting his mouth away from there, onto other, more responsive places.

You didn't want him to stop, oh no. You just wanted more.

"Please..."

And then his lips were on yours again – biting, tasting, conquering.

"Please what, my sweet?"

'Please' was a pleasant word, Astarion reflected. It framed the current situation nicely. He was pleased, and you were very much wanting, needing him to please you too.

You would have to beg a while longer, he settled, even as he moved up your body and rolled his hips, brushing sensually against the part of you that was weeping for his attention. Being a benevolent, generous lover, he could not leave you wanting. One finger teased you, soon joined by another, his thumb not ceasing its ministrations.

“Tell me how much you want me, what should I do to you. Tell me, darling,” he coaxed you, pumping his fingers into your centre, making you jerk and gasp under him.

When he didn’t get an immediate answer, he slipped them out, drumming his fingers against your hipbone in a mock display of impatience.

You arched your hips up but Astarion stopped you in place, leaning over you with an uncompromising, teasing look on his face, while you stammered and blushed, looking for words to tell him what you wanted so much.

“I- I want you to have me.”

“You know that is not all I’m looking to do.”

“And I -I want you -I want to have that future with you,” you admitted. “More than anything.”

“Yes,” Astarion hissed, satisfied by your answer enough to roll his hips against yours and snake his hand down to tease your clit again, “you are mine, love. Our future. Our children. We will have it all.”

Astarion’s other hand gripped your waist, fangs pricking the sensitive skin of your neck. There was no sound of protest when he tilted your head back further and pressed his lips to your neck harshly, needily, feeling your pulse.

“Yes,” both a reply to his unspoken request and a confirmation of his words. You felt a sharp sting and then welcome numbness as he drank, rutting against you with shallow moans as he sought some form of relief.

He gulped your blood down greedily, relishing in the taste, his hand teasing your entrance as you lifted your legs, moving them to brush against his waist and down his sides.

Astarion’s lips softened against you and he drew back, panting and looking at you through lust-filled eyes.

“You sweet, generous thing. Obeying me so completely. Gifting me with such promises. I believe it is time I’ve delivered on mine.”

Astarion pressed you harder against the bed, pinning you down to make sure you were helpless against his restless hands and lips on your body. You quivered with want, the flush of your cheeks bringing a purr of satisfaction from him.

“Astarion, please- Astarion!”

“Yes, that’s right. Say my name. I want to hear you scream my name as you come.”

He withdrew his fingers and you followed him with a whine at being denied your release, seeking relief.

“Oh my dear, I would very much like you to come with me buried deep inside, if it’s all the same to you,” he chuckled and aligned himself with your entrance. As fun as teasing you into a delirious state of want was, he could not hold off much longer, wanting your warmth.

He drank the vision that you were in. Your lips were slightly bruised, hair mussed, a thin trickle of blood oozing slowly down your neck to stain the bedding. You looked delightfully wrecked and he was nowhere near done with you.

His length pressed slowly into you. You gasped softly and just before your body stopped writhing beneath his, he thrust into you. Your inner walls clenched down on him shallowly and his eyes fluttered close with a hiss of pleasure. Slowly, he began to thrust his body in and out, his head falling forward, lips pressing against the fresh bite marks on your neck.

Soon your bodies fell into a pattern and your soft mewls once again filled the room, Astarion’s name falling from your lips in broken harmonies.

“Yes,” he gave a low groan and spread your legs wider without breaking his stride, “say my name.”

You felt the coil inside you tighten and then snap as you came, Astarion thrusting into you roughly as he fucked you through your orgasm.

As he felt you release a shuddering breath against his collarbone he paused briefly, tilting his head forward to kiss your forehead, your temple, your hair. You lifted yourself up enough for your lips to brush his.

“I love you, Astarion.”

“Say it again," he began moving slowly.

"I love you," you breathed out, Astarion picking up speed.

"Again," he groaned, giving a hard thrust.

Between soft moans you gently murmured, “I love you,” pressing your lips to his ear, running your fingers along the tip. And that was enough to send Astarion over the edge. With sloppy, inelegant thrusts he came, groaning into your shoulder as he rode out his orgasm before falling still.

He clutched you to his chest, perhaps a little too hard, and kissed the crown of your head. He didn’t say it back, but you knew that he felt it too. He did say it before, the night that he took you to see his grave, the night when he told you how much your relationship mattered to him. And you knew that these words might not come easily to him now that he actually meant them.

You yawned and closed your eyes, content to stay like this a little while longer.

“Oh fuck, these two are fucking again!”

Your eyes snapped open.

“Astarion, you said that they wouldn’t be back!” you hissed, pushing him as you tried to pull the covers up to preserve some modesty.

“Well, excuse me! It’s not my fault that they decided to barge in without knocking!” he complained, levelling Karlach and Shadowheart with a look and a sneer. “Honestly, some people have no manners at all!”

“It’s a shared room, they live here too!”

“Yes. Although at such moments I miss the relative privacy of camping in tents,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes and walked out, closely followed by guffawing tiefling.

That evening all your friends pitched in and got you two a separate room. It was for the best really. Although Astarion was not exactly a details person, once he set his mind on something he pursued it obsessively.

You have given him much to look forward to. It seemed that your adventures were only just beginning. And Astarion did not know when and how you two would actually manage to do all that you saw in your little cheeky look into the future.

But Astarion knew one thing for certain. You were a lot of fun and he looked forward to spending his life with you. And fucking you relentlessly because the idea of you being pregnant with his children made him feel things that he had never once in the past thought he would feel.

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