#why is she even awake it's PAST HER BEDTIME

[hella1975]

'why are you smiling' because i have beautiful mutuals and we all love each other. go back to your sports romance you heinous bitch

[a-spes]

| THE MELODY OF HAPPINESS - Drabble (1.043 words).

| Summary - they've always assumed that you were mute until you finally let them hear the sound of your voice. A part of The place we've been dreaming of' universe.

| Tags & warnings - Soft dark!Wandanat x Pet!Reader, fluffy/comforting, a bit of angst, mentions of past abuses.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

Months went by, and the fall had still not come. But you are waiting for it, knowning that this moment will eventually come. It's inevitable, you know the rules like the back of your hand.

The first few days, they are always nice to you but it's only a matter of time before they reveal their true faces. At the first mistake, rewards were replaced by punishments, carresses by blows, and the sweet words by insults. You've fallen into the trap enough times to have learned your lesson.

At least, that's what you thought.

Months went by, and nothing bad happened to you. In fact, it was the opposite. The two women were great, and for the first time, it's not their hate toward you that has grown over time, but their love. Even the one called Natasha, who wouldn't allow you to be anywhere near her the first few weeks, surprinsgly changed her mind. She was now the one who sneaks you food under the table, the one who makes you sleep in her bed, who lets you eat all the sweets you want, and stay awake past the bedtime that Wanda has set up for you. Even if she was colder than the brunette, you liked it when it was just the two of you at home.

Not that you dislike Wanda, on the contrary, you like her just as much, but your relation is different. She is always watching you, and somehow always knowning what you need before you do. Despite the appearances, the witch is the stricted of the two. She has drawn up a list of rules for you to follow, and a strict schedule, she has read online that a routine was essential for pets, that it reduces stress.

And it was true. You've never been more content than since you've been with them, and even if some days are harder, you always know what to expect from them. You've quickly learned all the rules, even the unspoken ones, and you know how to earn the caresses you are craving for. Since you've been here, none of them has ever landed a hand on you, even when you accidentaly broke the rules. The angriest you've ever seen the women is when Wanda frowns, and Natasha mumbles in annoyance.

"Bunny, what's wrong? Why aren't you eating?" the brunette asked. When she lowered her head, she noticed that the food in your bowl was untouched, which was strange as she usually has to reprimand you for inhaling your food.

"Taste weird," you mumbled with tears in your eyes. There was something that you didn't like in your meal, but you couldn't exactly tell what it was. However, what they had in their plates smelled betterand you wanted it, even if it was, in fact, the exact same thing that was in yours.

You weren't crying for that thought. The tears were the result of your fears. It has been years since the last time you've talked. It has been so long that you are not even sure you ever learned to do it. They prefer it when your quiet so you made sure to keep it that way. You don't know what crossed your mind that night, but your recklessness may have cost you the cocoon you've built up over the last few months. Not only did you speak, but you complained, and asked for something that you know is forbidden.

"Let me give you som-," the woman stopped dead in her tracks when she realized that the few words she heard weren't your thoughts. It sounded raspy and uncertain, it has been so low that she wasn't sure if it was true or a trick of her mind. A glance at her wife, who was just as surprised, confirmed that she wasn't the only one who heard these words. "You ... baby, you can talk?" she softly asked, the disbelief written all over her face.

"SHE TALKED!" the redhead suddenly screamed, a wide smile spreading on her face as she realized what just happened. "She talked! Did you hear that, Wands?" she asked her wife who couldn't help but chuckles.

"Yeah, I've heard love," she replied before her gaze falls on you again. Except that you were not here anymore.

The second you heard the screams, you run away. You weren't supposed to do that either. When they found you, curled up in the corner of the room, concern gave way to a certain sadness. They may don't know your story, but they know all too well the life that pets like you have. It's rarely a pretty story.

It took a lot of time, and patience, from both of the women before they could hear the sound of your voice again. Now that they've heard it once, they wanted more. However, you weren't willing to give them what they wanted that easily, fearing they would get tired of you if you talked too much. But now that they knew that you were able to talk, it was unthinkable that they wouldn't train you to do it.

"Say it again," the woman whispered to you. You were both sitting at the foot of the sofa, a random show playing in the back, "I know you can do it. Repeat after me: fuc~," she said, but the redhead was stopped in the middle of her sentence by a blow at the back of her head. "What was that?!" she asked, glaring at the brunette.

"Stop teaching her such stupid words," she scolded the oldest. "You are supposed to help her learn usefull words!" she added, realizing that it has been a bad idea to let Natasha take care of that part of your training.

"That's not stupid stuff," she defended herself as she gestures toward you, encouraging you to repeat the forbidden word — Fuck. One laughed as she slips a sweet into your mouth, rewarding you for your effort, while the other one tried to keep a stern expression, rolling her eyes as she gets back to the kitchen.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Tag list - @alexawynters, @caporal-nino, @chibilauren, @doveromanoff, @kmaxmadness, @m0nsterqzzz, @siljuskaz, @tobiaslut.

[lessi-lover]

feather light love II l.williamson x l.walti

summary: you begin to notice that leah is around a lot more ★ feather light love II l.williamson x l.walti

you had begun to notice that leah seemed to have moved herself into your house to live with you. her things started to appear more frequently around your home, it was her coat hung on the rack near the front door, or her favourite mug that had nestled its way next to the others on the shelf.

you'd spot her waiting with a smile, her hand stretched out for your own when she started to pick you up from daycare with mummy on most days, and you could tell that she had been coming over to sleep more than the rest of your mummy's friends.

at first you didn't quite understand why leah couldn't play with you like mummy could. you had been to a lot of your mummy's matches and leah could play really well there. so it was weird that at home, or at least for the last few months, leah wasn't able to play with you in the garden like she had been able to when you first met her when mummy moved to arsenal.

besides, leah had become a constant presence in your life. she helped you with so many things; she helped you bake a cake when it was mummy's birthday, she took you out the park to play at the playground, and when you struggled to speak in english she would help you practice your english when you reverted back to swiss, playing games with you whenever she got the chance.

sometimes you wondered if mummy and leah were more than friends, even if you wanted to believe that they were just really close. leah, just like your mummy, was able to see when you needed a hug and you deemed that she gave the best hugs in the world. you loved the way leah made your mummy smile and the way she made you feel safe and loved.

you were fine, though. you loved leah as much as leah seemed to love you, and you would have had no issue if she and your mummy did say they were together. but you didn't fully understand the complexity of relationships yet. sometimes, you wished they would just tell you outright. it felt like a secret everyone knew but you.

in truth, lia and leah were definitely something more than friends. the pair by now knew that they were creeping into the deep end in which soon enough they were going to have to tell you, even if things didn't work out between them.

they had been tipping over the edge for months now, and to be honest lia had thought that maybe you already knew about the couple and were just waiting for them to break it to you themselves.

but lia was adamant that she wanted to continue giving you a stable environment and that she wouldn't expose you to her relationship in fear that it wouldn't last, she didn't want you to become attached and experience withdrawal because of a breakup.

for the past few weeks you had seen leah's sore knee slowly heal, or what you saw as a progression when she stopped needing the crutches to walk around and was now able to lift you up high in her arms like she did before.

you, mummy and leah often had movie nights, where you would lay between the couple and watch a film until one of them carried you off to bed when you fell asleep halfway. you would cozy yourself into your mummy's lap, leaning on leah's body as your eyes began to droop in tiredness.

you would wake up every so often, giggles sounding as you watched whatever was happening on the screen. leah's laugh soft in your ears as she brushed away loose strands of your hair, her head nestled with lia's behind you.

"are you tired little stärnli?" your mummy would ask, her nails scratching your skin lightly as you pressed further into her chest. "no mummy." you mumbled in a sleepy voice, your breathing almost even as you tried to stay awake.

your exhaustion was obvious as you fought the fight to stay awake but surrendered at the feeling of your mummy's hand carding through your hair. "bedtime lovie?" leah chuckled, watching as you basically crashed out of pure exhaustion on her girlfriends lap.

"think so." lia grinned, smiling in admiration of the love she so clearly saw swelling in leah's eyes for you. lia gently lifted you up of the couch, her arms cradling you softly as her girlfriend moved to turn off the film as they made their way to your bedroom to tuck you soundly into bed.

now in your bedroom, lia gently lifted the covers and lowered you into bed, tucking the warm, fluffy blanket up to your chin as you breathed softly. "out like a light." lia giggled, bending down to place a light kiss to the top of your head, her lips lingering as she whispered to you quietly.

"oh, her stärnli." lia cursed, knowing she had forgotten your teddy in the living room and she rushed to retrieve it as she knew you couldn't sleep without it by your side.

as she left the room for a moment, you stirred soundly in your sleep, the faint air brushing over your face as your mummy left in a hurry to find your stärnli. blinking sleepily, you found yourself tucked comfortably into bed, when only moments before you remember watching the movie in the living room.

the light of the stick on stars on your ceiling gently glowed down on your face, lia had bought them when you started to show an interest in stars, asking her questions one night when you were out late on the balcon just looking at the sky.

"leah?" you called out, your sleepy voice barely above a whisper, tinged with how tired you were. your eyes scanned the room, seeking out the familiar figure of your mummy's girlfriend.

to your surprise, leah was still there, sitting at the edge of your bed, her body illuminated by the soft light coming from your night light plugged into the wall. she turned to you with a warm smile, her hand reaching out to rest on your blanket.

"hey little star," leah said softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "are you having trouble going to sleep?"you nodded, a small yawn escaping your lips as you shifted in bed, your gaze fixated on the blondes face.

you waited in silence for a moment, your eyes blinking tiredly as leah let you speak to her first. she didn't want to overstep because she knew if you needed something you would ask for help from her.

"leah, do you love my mummy?" you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity. the question had been lingering in your mind for some time now and with how safe leah made you feel, you felt okay to tell her.

leah bent down to kiss the spot where your mummy had kissed a few minutes ago as her hand grazing down the side of your face. "yes, little star," leah replied, her voice soft as she matched her smile down to yours. "i love your mummy very, very much."

you nodded in a somewhat approval, a sense of contentment washing over you as leah's words sank in. she really did love your mummy and you knew that now. with a satisfied sigh, you settled back into your sleep, your eyes just drooping closed as you almost fell back asleep once again.

leah looked down at you, her gaze softening as she watched you drift off to sleep, a fond smile playing on her lips. she brushed a gentle hand over your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear.

and as your mummy returned to your room, you opened your eyes once more, lifting your stärnli teddy out of your mummy's hand and tucking it underneath your chin. you clasped your hand with your own and lifted it up next to your teddy. sinking into the sheets you allowed sleep to overcome you, your breath evening out.

"goodnight mummy and lee." "goodnight little stärnli." "goodnight little star."

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (2 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff, some humor, canon-typical swearing, Kyle is a girl dad

Word Count: 935

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

An evening of peace is interrupted when Kyle has to answer questions about what he does for a living.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Peace is shattered.

It always is when you have a kid.

It’s not just scraped knees or melted ice cream splattered on the pavement. Sometimes, peace is shattered because your child is a feral goblin who decides disturbing your sleep is the perfectly logical thing to do.

Wearing a pink onesie, standing in the bedroom doorway with her little fist raised and clutching a thin piece of paper, you and Kyle’s six-year-old daughter is ominously backlit by the hallway light. Kyle blinks, a little stunned by the sight before him. You shift beside him, one hand reaching out to him, murmuring his name.

There are a few seconds between her sudden appearance and the leap onto the bed. She spider-crawls like a thing out of a horror movie.

“Bloody hell,” groans Kyle, pinching the bridge of his nose as his daughter perches like a gargoyle next to him.

“Daddy,” she whispers.

You are already awake, turning over onto your back with squinted eyes as you’re blasted by the bright light of the hallway.

Before you can even speak, Kyle is shaking his head, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve got this,” he groans, sitting up to turn on the bedside light. You glance at your daughter before returning to your original position.

Kyle rests his forearms on his bent knees, staring at his daughter who gazes at him with a peppy eagerness like she’s just eaten a cake heavily coated in icing. She shouldn’t have this much energy at this late hour.

“Go to bed,” says Kyle. “It’s past bedtime.”

She clutches the thin piece of paper. “I wanted to show you earlier.”

While Kyle is typically indulgent when it comes to her, he’s not feeling that way at the moment. He only wants to sleep.

“It’s late, bug,” he replies. “Tomorrow.”

She shakes her head, her tight curls bouncing slightly. “I didn’t know what to put here. You don’t talk about your job.” She points to a spot on the paper, and Kyle frowns as he peers closer.

Fuck.

It’s one of those questionaries where the child answers all these questions about themselves, and several pertain to her parents and what they do. She has left that entire section blank. Kyle understands that schools do this so that the students can build identity in their community while also making connections with classmates.

But she’s right. Kyle doesn’t talk about his job. At least not with her. You, his wife, are an entirely different story. You, the one who has been through nearly all of it, is the only person who truly knows everything. His daughter is far too young to know specifics or to fully comprehend the sheer violence of his work.

“You’re right, love. I don’t.”

“Why?” she asks automatically.

This is not a conversation he wants to be having. She needs to be in bed, and Kyle should be asleep and spooning you before he has to take this feral fiend of a daughter to school in the morning.

Kyle sighs and runs his hand over his face. “Where is this coming from?”

Her face falls slightly, and then becomes steel. “I want to be like you,” she says. “I want to grow up and be strong.”

No, babygirl. No. You don’t want to be like me.

You stir beside him, shifting like you’re about to turn and join the conversation. But Kyle knows you need your rest, and this isn’t the sort of conversation he desires to have this late at night.

That hardness melts away, and Kyle’s heart fractures slightly. She’s so small and yet so determined. Her little fist clutching the paper shakes slightly as if asking him is taking all her strength.

“Give me the paper.” Her smile widens as she hands it over. “And go turn off the hall light.” She groans loudly and Kyle shushes her as she throws herself off the bed and drags herself to the hall.

The light flicks off, and then she’s rushing back to him. He pats the side of the bed, and she crawls in, curling up next to him as he grabs the book off his bedside table.

“Pencil?” he asks, and she whips one out, her smile wide.

Kyle snorts and snags it, twirling it end-over-end as he tries to formulate an answer to the questions. Some of that gentle humor slips away, falling into memory, all the lead and blood and carnage comes back, roaring in his ears.

He takes a deep breath, silencing it all.

Graphite touches paper, and Kyle begins jotting down answers to all the things his daughter didn’t answer. She rests her head against his shoulder, watching the pencil scratch across the paper.

When he’s done, he presents the paper, and his daughter takes it reverently, as if all the secrets she doesn’t have are now suddenly before her. She does not take the pencil as she slips off the bed and starts to sprint for the door. She comes to a halt and turns on her heel, running back to him.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she says a little too loud before kissing his cheek and heading out into the hall.

The bed shifts, and Kyle turns to look at you as you twist to face him.

“What did you write?” you murmur.

Kyle sighs and shuts off the bedside light. He snuggles in, and you reach for him in the dark. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you close, inhaling your scent, allowing his mind to drift toward dreaming.

“A nice truth,” replies Kyle softly just before he slips into sleep.

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1846

Chapter 21:

After the sole topic about witch hunters and the bitter past, you all chose to try and get some sleep; needing all the energy you could recover for the next trial.

With the sky being always night, it was hard to keep track of time, and if it weren't for the exhausting trials; one would have trouble sleeping.

While the others slept close to one another, some laying on their jackets for some insulation against the cold floor; you had chosen to leave, for a little bit.

You knew not to stray from the road, but sleep would not come to you, and you needed some alone time.

You barely had one lately, with everyone being on top of one another all the time.

The moon was almost and completely full. Its beautiful white light seemed to follow you; illuminating your path. Your steps were quiet, and you eventually came to a halt, leaning your back against a tree.

You closed your eyes as you let the moon shower you with light, offering a cold warmth you could never explain but always welcomed.

So many nights have you spent in a similar position, neck and back arched to the full moon above you. Endless hours had you spent bathing in its white light, swearing you could hear it talk to you through some ethereal plane.

Some nights, you would hum and sing with the moon as your audience; a silent observer that never judged you, never tried to harm you.

Even when you need it the most, it chooses to grace you with power and help you escape your bonds; showing just how terrifying its power could be when it was passed through you.

Your mind wandered and you gently hummed a tune, the lyrics a mere whisper traveling through the night; not wishing to awake or scare the others.

Come little children

I'll take thee away

Into a land of enchantment

Come little children

The time's come to play

Here in my garden of shadows

Your white magic had come alive in your hands, dancing between your fingers as if responding to your song.

Yet before you cold continue; you felt a presence close by and your guard was immediately raised.

"I remember that song of yours," Agatha said as she walked out of the shadows and towards you.

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling your heart beating faster for a moment as you thought it was someone else.

"It led us into a lot of trouble that night," you reminded her, memories of your adventures flashing into your mind.

Agatha waved her hand dismissively. "It's not our fault those children thought to take a peak. It was way past their bedtime. The fault lies to the parents."

Her excuse brought a smile on your face, having missed her view of the world. Sometimes, your thoughts could get the best of you, and you failed to see the light in this world; like the people that feared the shadows whenever a new moon was in the sky.

Sometimes, you felt as if you were laying in the bottom of a deep pit; forced to face dark creatures fuelled by your emotions and thoughts; only to always climb to the surface renewed; reborn.

But when you were with Agatha, those things almost never happened. Her unique way of seeing the world had kept you focused, her presence a life vest to keep you aflot during dangerous waters... her kisses and touches, burning you from inside, making your magic core glow so powerful that no shadow ever had the chance to manifest.

Your smile remained, and you silently admired her beneath the moonlight as you stood next to one another, bodies barely touching but equally tempted.

Her expression changed into a more serious one. "Why didn't you call for me?" She suddenly asked, earning a puzzled expression from you. "When you were at the mercy of those witch hunters. Why didn't you call for me?"

You glanced to the side, ashamed of confessing your true intentions.

Time might have passed since your last meeting, but your body remained equally strong. You had the power, a little spell, that would alert Agatha of your presence. You had sworn to her under a blood red full moon that you would use it, should you ever need her help.

You never did, always hesitating; feeling you would pull her away from whatever goal she had in mind. You were afraid you would be a burden, to a woman you sometimes wondered if she would ever come back to you; after all those times, you refused to join her on a mission.

Familiar long fingers grabbed your chin and forced you to look straight into the face of the woman you had fallen in love with, whose initials felt carved on your heart; forever claimed by her.

"You remember I don't like asking more than twice, isn't that right?" She asked you, cutting any nicknames she had for you; a sign of how serious she was.

You tried to nod, but her grip on your chin remained. In the end, you took a deep breath and gathered your courage.

"I didn't want to burden you. Not when I knew how focused you were in mastering the darkhold, " you confessed, making her realize around what time period you fell victim to those barbarians that dared to mark your skin... only she was allowed to do that to you.

If Agatha still had powers, they would have been going crazy around her. She was pissed and you could see it by the darkness in her eyes, by the way she gripped your chin and the way her breathing changed.

In the end, she let you go and stormed a few feet away in an attempt to calm down. If she could use magic, she would have long blasted a few trees around you; it always helped when things were burnt or destroyed.

"This is not the promise you made to me, Y/N," she called you out by your name, one finger pointed at you.

"What would you have me do, Agatha?" You questioned, feeling your emotions getting the best of you. It was a full moon, after all. Y, so you can murder them in cold blood? Add more names to your never-ending list?" Your tone started to rise faintly, doing your best to keep it low and not alert the others.

"Yes," she answered as if it was not obvious enough before marching your way. "You are mine, Y/N," she hissed as she now stood in front of you. "And I protect what is mine..." she took a deep breath. "What is precious to me"

You parted your lips in surprise, never seeing it coming.

Agatha had outloud claimed you as hers, had confessed just how much you meant to her, and she meant it. Every. Single. Word.

You found no words to argue, and whatever anger was once rising had disappeared as if there was nothing there.

In a moment of weakness or perhaps desperation, you chose to act with your body. Your hands grabbed her cheeks and you pulled her towards you, sealing her lips with yours.

Agatha was startled for a moment before she followed, quickly claiming the lead from you by sucking your lips with an inner need. Her kiss spoke of hunger, lust, and need to be with you; to be reminded of the unique flavour your lips always had.

You let her lead, eagerly parting your lips to let her tongue enter. One hand went into her thick hair, fingers tangled with dark locks as you held her tightly; trying somehow to balance the power dynamics between the two of you.

Your back was pressed harder against the tree, one of her hands holding your waist as her body was pushed more against yours.

Eventually, you both needed air and with some reluctance you let each other's lips go; but your hands remained on one another.

She immediately buried her nose to the crook of your neck, continuing what she started by kissing the soft spot of your neck, making you see stars and reminding you she had not forgotten how to play you like an instrument.

You gasped faintly, your grip into her dark locks only increasing, and you forced your eyes closed; trying to fight the feeling of building up pleasure, your body succumbing to her lips and her roaming touch.

Agatha did not continue the torture for long, having taken her dose by finally being able to enjoy you in peace. She would have much preferred to do it in a warm house, preferably on a soft bed, but she had to be patient for now.

Her lips trailed ghostly marks across your collarbone before settling faintly on your lips. The peck that followed was quick, and only then did she stop and pull faintly back.

You looked at her, lips faintly bruised as your noses almost touched. You let go of her hair and instead cupped her cheek tenderly.

"You have no idea how long I have been waiting to hear you say that," you confessed, slightly out of breath.

"What, claiming you?" She questioned as she quickly connected the dots. She gently pushed a strand away from your face. "Sugar, I made you vow to me and call me when in trouble. I made you bleed upon a dark pact. Wasn't this enough of a sign?"

Your cheeks felt slightly flustered. "Should be?" You dared to question, earning a look from her that reminded you not to ruin the mood. "I know it should... but I always wondered... especially now, with Rio..." Your voice trailed off.

"Rio is in the past, hon," she told you in a sweet voice. "You are the present and hopefully the future. That is, if you don't turn me down after all this"

You could not help but chuckle faintly. "I think me agreeing to walk this shitty sadistic road for a second time should be enough of an answer"

Without waisting another time, you moved your hands and pulled Agatha into a much needed hug. You pressed her tightly against you, your nose buried to the crook of her neck; almost hidden beneath her thick locks.

You felt her hugging you back with equal need, your presence easing the turmoil within her heart. She rested her chin on your shoulder, eyes closed as your scent overwhelmed her senses and momentarily clouded her mind.

"I am with you, Ags. From now until my last day on this cursed world. I vow to you in the name of my mother" you confessed.

Agatha stared with wide eyes in front of her, lips parted faintly in silent surprise. Your words were serious, she could tell, but she could also sense the magic within them; an invisible silent spell bowed to a promise.

She could not help but glance at the full moon as you vowed sacredly to your mother, a name you rarely let it leave your lips...for when it did, it meant business.

Chapter 22

[henrycangelbaby]

In which: Joel wanted to say so many things—to apologize for the time he had lost together, to say sorry for losing her—but he couldn't. He pulled back slightly, encompassing her face with his hands. She leaned into him, nuzzling her cheek into his palm.

Or

Joel is reunited with his babygirl.

The house is quiet when Joel gets home; it's rather surprising to him; he expects to hear giggles coming from the kitchen or the living room, but the only thing that he can hear is the low chatter of the TV in the next room over. He wonders if maybe Sarah has decided to be responsible and send herself and Y/N off to bed at a reasonable time, but he doubts it; the two of them never really seemed to put responsibility over having a good time together.

 Joel doesn't even remember when Y/N and Sarah had become best friends. It felt like it had just been this way forever; he remembers when a very young Sarah had come home practically begging to have her new best friend to sleep over one night, and suddenly Y/N was sleeping over every other night. He should have been annoyed about it. Joel already had enough on his plate, raising Sarah by himself, but she had been such a sweet kid, so kind and lovely to Sarah. They seemed so inseparable, spending all day at school together to only to come home together giggling over things he didn't understand at the dinner table before crashing together in Sarah's bed for the night.

 He simply couldn't say no to yet another sleepover, so when Sarah called him after getting home from school, asking if Y/N could stay the night, he mockingly sighed before agreeing wholeheartedly. 

Joel found them in the living room together. The question of the silence was quickly answered when he saw Sarah laying on the couch; a peaceful sleep overtaken her. He then spots her best friend next to her. Y/N isn't asleep; instead, she sits awake, her head propped up dangerously on her palm. The sight of it makes Joel smile a little bit; despite everything, Y/N was a good kid. 

The older that she had gotten, the more he had gotten insight into why she spent so much time at his house. She spoke occasionally of her father's temper, her mother's ignorance, and how it had scared her and how sometimes she couldn't sleep from the fear. It had made his heart ache, as well as quelling any annoyance that he had felt feeding four people instead of three. Y/N had been a part of their family for years now; she spent all the holidays with them, buying everyone Christmas presents as well as doing chores around the house when Sarah did.

Her presence made Sarah very happy, and it eased Joel's worry for her. As long as she was under his roof, she was safe and happy, and that's what matters. 

Y/N's head snapped up at the sound of Joel's boots walking into the living room; she smiled up at him before, pointing to Sarah and miming for him to be quiet. He smirked as he sat down next to her. She launched into hugging him the moment he was sat, her eyes bright with enthusiasm.

 “Happy birthday, Joel!” 

He chuckled, his heart warmed by the action. “Thanks, baby girl,” he spoke before she continued, “I'm sorry I could be here this morning to make breakfast for you.” She pouted lightly. He just shook his head, patting her on the head gently. 

“That's ok, you're here now,” he assured her. “How've you been, honey?” 

He tried to be subtle about the way he worried for her wellbeing; he knew it had only been one day since he'd seen her, but both him and Sarah had been a little taken aback when she hadn't shown up at school the previous day. 

“Everything ok?” He asked, 

she hummed, “Yeah, I missed you and Sarah yesterday." 

As if awakened by her name, Sarah slowly sat up while Joel responded, “We missed you too." 

Joel turned his attention to Sarah as she sat up. “What are you girls doing up so late?" 

“Crud, what’s the time?” Sarah asked, looking up at the clock,

 “Way past your bedtime." Joel said

"But it’s still today,” she spoke.

Joel watched suspiciously as Y/N reached down to grab something while Sarah was talking, handing it to Sarah behind her back. Joel fought the urge to roll his eyes at their antics: 

“Listen girls, please not right now; I don’t have the energy for this." 

Before he could continue to complain, Sarah passed a box into his hands. “Here,” 

his curiosity peaked. “What’s this?” 

“Your birthday, silly." Y/N answered. 

He opened the box slowly, smirking slightly at the sight of a watch-shaped gift inside.

“You kept complaining about your broken watch,” Sarah explained,

“so we figured well.” Y/N continued,

“You like it?” They asked together, young eyes peering up at him; 

He couldn't help himself from pulling a small joke on them. "Girls, this is...” 

They cocked their heads in confusion together.

 “It's nice, but i… I think it's stuck; it's not." 

They leaned over in concern, looking at each other confused. 

“No.” Y/N was quick to state.

“What?” Sarah added.

He smirked. Y/N was the first to realize he was messing with them. “Ha ha, very funny Joel." 

Sarah slapped his arm away lightly.

“Where'd you guys get the money for this anyway?” he questioned. 

“Drugs,” Sarah answered without missing a beat. 

Y/N nodded alongside her. “Yeah, we sell drugs, only the hardcore stuff,” she added on. 

“This is great news; you two can start helping me out with the mortgage,”.

They shook their heads. “You wish." 

He knew it wouldn't be long until they both knocked out with the TV on in the background. Soon enough, they were passed out laying on top of each other in the way they usually did. He took them up to Sarah's bed one by one; he could remember a time when they had fit on one arm each, carrying them both effortlessly to bed.

Oh, how times had changed. 

It was the phone ringing that woke Y/N up; she had ended up on the side closest to it, likely (definitely) courtesy of Joel. The ringing wouldn't stop; she picked up the phone hesitantly, 

“Hello?” “Y/N? Sweetie, is that you?” 

She recognized his voice the moment he spoke, 

“Yeah, Tommy, what's up?” 

“I need you to put Joel on the phone now; can you do that for me, honey?” 

“Um,” she tried to think her brain was too sleepy to process what he was saying. 

“I need to speak to him now there's som-” 

The phone cut off before he could finish speaking. What was happening? 

Y/N gently shook Sarah awake, worried about Tommy's odd phone call. Sarah awoke to the pleas of her name. She pushed herself up gently. 

“What's going on? Y/N, what time is it?” 

Y/N ignored the question, explaining panickedly about the phone call. Sarah only looked at her worried.

“Let's go find dad.” She offered her hand out. 

The young girls walked around hand in hand, calling for Joel in the quiet, abandoned house. They stopped together inside Joel's room; the TV was playing a news report being shown despite the late time. They both turned around at a loud sound of something in the distance. 

“Uh.. What was that?” Sarah questioned

Y/N shrugged beside her, “Something weird is happening, Sarah." 

The empty kitchen was lit up by Joels phone screen, the ringing the only sound in the otherwise deserted kitchen. 

“8 missed calls,” Sarah stated after peering at the busted lock screen, “where the hell are you?” 

Y/N hummed; this was all so weird. The attention of the two girls was suddenly pulled to the sound of a door being yanked open. Joel stepped through it, slamming it shut behind him. Sarah let out a breath in relief.

“There you are, we whe-” 

“Girls.” Joel interrupted, his tone suddenly serious. “Are you both okay?” He continued; 

They both nodded confused. He spoke again, his back to them, busying himself with something. 

“Has anyone come in here?” Sarah and Y/N shared a glance 

“No” Sarah answered, 

“Why would anyone be in here?” Y/N added on. 

He shook his head, muttering to himself, “Stay back, okay? Away from the door.”

 Sarah spoke again, “Dad, you're freaking us out a little." 

“Joel, what's going on?” Y/N asked

“It's the Coopers.” He responded quickly and seriously, “Something ain't right with 'em."

"Are they sick?” Y/N asked worriedly

 “Yeah.” He let out a breath, "Yeah, they are."  

A sudden thud scared them, both jumping back in fright. Joel cursed under his breath, 

“C'mere.” 

He motioned for the two girls to stand behind him, pushing them away from the door. Suddenly the glass on the door was smashed, warnings flew out of Joel's mouth, none of them heard as the gunshot rang through the house, the material of his shirt quickly fisted in fear.He pushed them backwards, ignoring their pleas for an explanation.

"Listen, my girls,” he spoke seriously. “There is something bad going on." 

"We have to get out of here; you understand me.” The young girls shared a scared look before agreeing. 

They were quickly ushered to a waiting Tommy, he spoke angrily towards an unfocused Joel, who was ensuring both girls got into the car. Perhaps he had underestimated the chaos of the apocalypse, but nothing was going well; the roads were cut off and traffic piled up. The closer they got into the city, the worse it got.

He swore they were doing fine, until suddenly the only thing he could hear and see was the impact. 

Fuck. They had been hit.

His head felt fuzzy; he couldn't think straight. He pulled himself up; his heart dropped slightly when he saw his girls. Y/N was peering over at something– someone.

 “Joel!” she shouted quickly at him. She sounded so scared. "Joel, please, Sarah,” she insisted. 

Joel was rather horrified to find that Sarah had an injured leg. He helped her up into his arms. He turned to Y/N quickly. 

“Are you okay, honey? Hurt?” 

She shook her head. “I think I'm fine,”

He nodded. “Okay, listen, stay close by; don't go anywhere.” 

She turned around to find Tommy offering out his hand, insisting that she shouldn't let go. The streets were chaos; Joel could hardly think straight; adrenaline was coursing through his veins, anxiety forming a pit in his stomach; they ran far, dodging the people, avoiding the fire. The world had really turned in an instant.

Despite that, things were okay for a second.

They were suddenly being chased; the things, the creatures were on their trail. Tommy quickly slammed the door behind them, trapping the infected on the other side.

“Get to the highway!” he yelled, ignoring Joel and Sarah's questions as he pushed an upset Y/N towards them.

“Go!” he yelled, “hurry!”. 

Joel took his girls and ran. He didn't make it very far; before he was stopped by a soldier, Joel tried desperately to get his message across, insisting they needed help for his daughters.  

"Joel,” he heard a whimper from behind him, the soldier pointing the gun towards them. 

Suddenly they were down, he lost eyes on his girls only hearing the bullet, before he could think, beg for his life from the unrelenting soldier, another gunshot rang out, this time taking the soldier down. 

“Oh no…” Joel's heart felt like it might tear out of his chest.

 He runs over to Sarah; he feels sick. The blood in the way she cries—nothing can fix the ache he feels. She dies; Sarah dies in his arms; he holds her close, pretending that he can feel her heartbeat against him, but he can’t; her blood seeps through onto his clothes and his hands; it stains his heart forever in a way that is indescribable. He can't think, he can't feel nothing moves around them as he holds her close; eventually he's brought out of his haze. 

Tommy speaks carefully at him, “Joel?” 

He shakes his head in response, unwilling to address him. Tommy persists, 

“Joel, where is she?” 

It angers Joel. “What?” he snaps, turning towards Tommy, who stands quickly. Suddenly,  his heart drops. Tommy looks frantically around; he disappears out of Joel's eyeline. Joel knows exactly what he is looking for and who he is looking for. He can’t even get an explanation out, his mouth unwilling to move, to stutter around the excuse that he had just seen her; he swore Y/N had just been behind him a second ago. 

But she wasn't. 

Tommy searches frantically and messily, screaming himself hoarse, yelling her name over and over again as if she might magically appear from around the corner, but she's nowhere to be found. Tommy's knees collapse from under him when he sees it; the bloody flannel lies abandoned on the ground. Tommy recognizes it instantly; he had brought it. He remembers exactly the intent behind his purchase; he had laughed to himself when he saw the opposing color flannels, the light purple and blue reminding him so badly of his two nieces he had purchased them on the spot. 

The light blue that had reminded so much of Y/N was now sitting a few feet away from him, stained dark red. He picks it up, his hands suddenly stained red by the fresh blood. He feels sick; he is sick. He throws up when he lifts the blanket close to him, unable to stomach the warmth it still holds. 

Tommy walks back towards Joel in a haze, both of them gone. In minutes— how had they let this happen? 

Joel flinches instinctively when he hears Tommy walking back towards him; he hasn't let up on Sarah, unable to move away as her skin grows cold under his touch. Tommy doesn't say anything; he doesn't step aside to reveal a scared but alive Y/N holding his hand. Instead, he drops down beside Joel, keeping his eyes downcast, unable to look at Sarah as he hands over the flannel silently. 

“Tommy what?” Joel asks in disbelief, “Where is she?” 

Tommy could only shake his head in response, 

"Tommy, what the fuck where is sh-” 

“Christ Joel, she's gone.” Tommy interrupted him angrily. He gestured to the flannel, “probably already fucking dead.” He finished his chest, heaving with anger. 

There is nothing to explain the feeling that rips through Joel's chest; his heart feels shredded and ripped up into so many pieces he may never be able to put them back together. 

“My girls, my babygirls,” Joel mutters under his breath, tears leaking down his cheeks. 

Tommy takes the Flannel back, placing it gently over Sarah. This is how she would've wanted it, he thinks; she would have wanted to be close to Y/N in some capacity. The lone flannel was the only thing they had left of her, and Sarah needed it more than they did.

Jackson had been good to Joel, or at least that’s what the people around him think. He sees it in Ellie. She seems happier and more free. They've been here long enough for her to start settling down and making friends; she has three hearty meals a day and is receiving some form of education. The people around him say that they see it in him as well. Maria comments lowly to them that he seems more relaxed, a benefit that he now gets along better with her (and all the other residents of Jackson). 

Tommy had teased that he had filled out slightly with all the food Jackson had to provide. He had tried to care, that he had put on weight, that he was getting older, but after everything he had suffered through, his brother's teasing had rolled right off his shoulders. It felt like a good thing anyway, being able to be happy, healthy, and safe. 

But something didn't feel right. There was an anxiety that had settled deep in Joel's chest; he was unable to shake the feeling that something bad was coming. He knew that it was just in his head, his life since the outbreak had been on the run; the new peacefulness that had come with Jackson was almost unnerving to him. Perhaps it was the domesticity of it all that had really gotten to him. Although he was happy, he had Ellie and his brother and everyone else that came along with that; his heart ached in a way he felt he could tell anyone about. 

All of this, the community, the events, and the seasons. It had been years since he had celebrated Christmas; in fact, he had been unable to celebrate it since he had lost his girls. Even in Jackson, when the opportunity opened up for decorations and presents, he had to turn it down. The thought of putting up a tree without Y/N or Sarah made him ill. They had both loved Christmas; Texas winters were unforgivingly cold, but they had always seemed warmer alongside his small family.

He's sick of thinking about her. Jackson had allowed Joel time to reflect; perhaps time really does heal all wounds. Time and being surrounded by people that care about him has allowed him to reflect; the once gaping wound that had been Sarah was now patched over. For the first time since her death, he felt he was able to celebrate what her life had been instead of beating himself up for the fact that it had ended. He started to see past his loss, slowly letting Ellie in; he had even been able to tell Ellie briefly about Sarah; they would have been friends. good friends, at least Joel thought so. 

Joel felt that he could finally love Sarah's memory in the way he had loved her. Fully and without guilt. He couldn't do the same with Y/N. Her memory was a gaping infected wound that nothing could seem to heal. He refused to talk about her. Of course Tommy knew; Maria had some sort of idea through Tommy, but he couldn't even stand for either of them to mention her name. He was sure Ellie knew; there was a photo of Y/N in his bedroom. She was younger than Ellie in the photo, and it was very clearly not Sarah, but she had never asked about it. The wound still felt so fresh; it felt like it was poked every time he thought of her. 

He knew it was the guilt; she would be by his side, a fully grown woman if he had been paying attention. Maybe she would have already been in Jackson when they arrived, having stayed by Tommy's side through the outbreak. But she wasn’t. They had turned their backs for a minute, and she was just gone. Probably killed, with no one to care for her or mourn her. She had probably been so scared, and no one was around to be there for her. Joel would give anything to have been able to hold her close and tell her everything would be okay, but it wasn't; nothing was okay.

“Joel?” 

He hums in response to Ellie; they're sitting eating dinner together. Dinners together have become fewer, and after between the longer they stay in Jackson. Ellie is busier than him; friends, love interests, and hobbies take up more and more of her time. Although he sometimes misses seeing her 24/7 as long as she is happy, he is. 

“What's up?” he asks as she darts her eyes around nervously. Almost as if she is hiding something from him. 

“Can I ask you something?” She sounds scared. 

“Of course, kiddo,” he answers, confused. Ellie has no reason to be scared of him anymore. 

“You promise you won’t get angry?” she insists again. 

He nodded, agreeing with her, “Yeah, I promise."

Ellie takes a deep breath before asking, “Did you, um, did you have another daughter?” She stutters out. 

Joel feels locked in place for a second; the question takes him so off guard his heart stops beating in his chest for a second. Ellie opens her mouth quickly to apologize, fearing that she has overstepped, but he shakes his head at her in response. He allows them to sit in silence for a moment, considering his next option before he speaks. 

“It's complicated,” he says; truthfully, he doesn't even know where to start.

Ellie is quick to try and smooth over any problems: “It's just something Tommy said—probably misheard him or something; it's silly, real-." Ellie spoke, but she was cut off by Joel, who unintentionally interrupted her. 

“She wasn't technically mine,” he said quietly, unable to look up from his dinner. 

"Huh?" ellie asked in confusion, 

“She was Sarah's best friend.” He clarified quickly, “They were inseparable, had been best friends for years; she spent every other night and all holidays at my house." He choked out; for the first time in 20 years he was talking about Y/N, and it was making his head spin.

“Is she the one in the photo?” Ellie asked, referring to the photo of the unnamed girl that had sat on Joel's dresser ever since they had settled in Jackson. 

He nodded in response, 

“Her name was Y/N.” He spoke her name for the first time in years; it felt heavy on his tongue. 

“Was?” Ellie asked, “Is she, um, well gone?” She was unwilling to say dead, worried that it might provoke a sensitive Joel. 

He remains quiet for a second before answering her lowly "probably." 

Ellie goes to ask more, confused by his vague answer, but he shakes his head, stopping her. “I think that's enough questions for tonight, kiddo,” he states firmly. She nods in response before turning back to her food. Ellie doesn't approach Joel about it again; she can tell that she has received all the information that he is willing to give and doesn't want to make him angry. 

She redirects her curiosity to Tommy; not straight after she waits to get him alone, they end up on patrol together. Technically, he isn't not actually patrolling; Joel is still very much unwilling to let Ellie do anything even slightly dangerous, but she scopes out the landscapes with Tommy occasionally shooting when he allows her. It gives her a sense of freedom, even if Joel is sitting back at the patrol tower waiting for them. 

“Tommy?” he looks up at her, quickly distracted from the gun in his lap. 

“What's up?” he asks with a small smile on his face. He doesn't often get to spend time with Ellie; she's a good patrol partner despite Joel's resistance. 

“Can I ask you about something?” She says carefully, and he stops walking for a second, eyeing her up suspiciously. She doesn't usually ask him things; he wonders if she is doing the same thing Sarah used to do when Joel told her no: turn to the next responsible adult in her life (him) and ask for the same thing until she got a yes.

"Listen, if Joels already said no, I'm not gonna say yes, ok?” He is quick to lay down the law. She cringes at that quickly recovering her face to look at him. 

“It's not that ok, I just want to ask you about someone,” she tells him. 

“Yeah, sure.” Tommy says his curiosity piqued. 

“Is Y/N alive?” Tommy's breath hitched, his heart speeding up at the name. 

“How do you know her?” He asks

“Joel told me.” She responds quickly, and he lets out a breath. If Joel had already spoken about it, it was fine. He tries to find the words before he speaks them, but he comes up short. 

“Alive? Well probably not,” he speaks, the truth that has been simmering in the back of his mind for years. 

“Did you see her die?” Ellie asks

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “She went missing when Sarah was killed, disappeared into thin air, and only left behind some bloody clothes.” He explains, 

“You haven't seen her since?” Ellie asked, 

“No, probably fuckin’ dead anyway." Tommy dismisses in a way that is so reminiscent of his brother. Ellie doesn't pry anymore; she knows enough to satisfy her curiosity. She feels strangely closer to Joel with the new information, her heart a little softer for the old man. 

Things in Jackson remain uneventful; people come in seeking the warmth and comfort that Jackson provides; patrols come and go; people begin to prepare for Christmas. The decorations going up make Joel's heart ache like it does every year, but he survives. Things are fine. Ellie doesn't press anymore about his past, which he is grateful for. She opts to spend more time with him than she used to, which is strange, but he would always value her company. 

Maria spends less and less time going out on patrol these days; she has bigger problems in the community, and with the rate that Jackson is growing, she feels like she spends every other waking moment greeting people and assigning houses. It's nice to get out sometimes; technically she should be protecting Jackson, but the path she's on seems harmless. The logbook remained clear of any disturbances for months now; it's just Maria and the heavy snow that had fallen as a consequence of Jackson's cold winters. Everything is peaceful and calm, even until she hears a gunshot ring out. 

It comes from close by—a lodge that had been abandoned forever ago. It was useless to the people of Jackson and had long sat by itself rotting away into the mountain. She has to go investigate the sound. Who could be there? Perhaps it was another patrol in need of help. She arrives quickly. The building looks to be empty; there is no light coming from it, no obvious signs of life. Maria knows better than to let her guard down, holding her rifle close to her chest as she yells out, urging anyone to come forward, yell for help. No one responds; she hears feet move quickly from a room somewhere; following the sound, she turns into a room; she walks in slowly; the person is backed into a corner, unable to escape. 

Maria steps closer, her view of the person's face skewed by a cloth wrapped around their lower face.

“Drop your weapon,” Maria orders quickly; they don't drop their weapon, instead bring it closer to them with a shaking hand. 

“Please,” they plead quickly. 

Maria falters for a second, the woman's voice taking her by surprise. 

“Please, I'm sorry for running; just leave me alone.” The woman all but begs; she doesn't sound dangerous; she sounds scared. Maria slowly lowers her gun, walking closer carefully.

“I won't hurt you,” she quickly promises to the younger woman. “Are you infected?” 

The woman shakes her head in response.

 “I’m not, I swear,” the woman says. 

“Are you alone?” Maria asks cautiously; she hadn't heard or seen anyone else in the desolate building, but she couldn't be too sure; she only receives a nod in response. 

“I’m Maria,” she offers quickly. She raises her eyebrows as an indication for the other woman to give her name. 

Maria watches as the younger woman pulls the fabric of her lower face; she speaks clearer without the fabric blocking her. 

“Y/N.” 

Oh, Maria pauses; she hadn't heard that name in a while, not since Tommy had retold Ellie’s prodding of his lost pseudo niece. The thought flashes through her mind quickly; there was no way. Tommy had swore she had died. What were the chances? Probably very little. She doesn't let the thought linger, moving to be face-to-face with the woman. 

"Listen, I'm from a commune; come back with me,” Maria offers.

Y/N stares back at her almost as if she was insulted by Maria's suggestion, 

“Why?” Y/N asks,

“Well, you're all alone out here." Maria states honestly, it wasn't exactly like this Y/N girl had anything else going for her. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Y/N asks, and Maria laughs gently. 

“If I had wanted you dead, I would've done it five minutes ago,” she says humorously. 

Y/N smiles gently at her, picking up her bag from beside her walking out after Maria. Maria helps Y/N up first onto the horse; she seems awkward getting up there. Maria watches curiously as she places a hand under her stomach, using the other arm and Maria's help to haul herself onto the horse.

Was she? Maria had found her alone, but maybe she hadn’t always been; maybe that's why she had been so scared that Maria was going to kill her. Her suspicions are all but confirmed when she instructs Y/N to hold on tight to her as they ride. Maria can feel it poking into her back. 

A baby bump. 

“Are you p-” Maria goes to ask, but she is interrupted quickly. 

“Yeah,” Y/N responds. 

Maria isn't quite sure what to make of her tone of voice; she sounds upset, almost. 

“How far along are you?” Maria asks gently.

she feels a shrug from behind her.

“A few months, hard to say really.” Y/N responds; 

Maria nods, “I’ll have you checked out with the doctor later.” She offers,

“That would be nice." Y/N responds, pulling her arms a bit tighter around Maria. 

They get into Jackson after dark; the town deserted as everyone stays home, keeping out the cold. There are a few people around doing odd jobs. Maria helps Y/N down off the horse she turns to one of them men who had been standing guard right inside the wall, “she's safe” she starts. Bringing strangers into Jackson wasn't exactly a normal thing; they were usually brought to Maria after being found. 

"Listen, I need you to get Tommy; tell him to meet me outside of the hall in ten,” the man moves off with a 'yes, ma’am,' while Maria turns towards Y/N.

"You wanna eat something?” She asks Y/N and nods, “Yeah, me too." Maria exhales.

They eat together in silence. Y/N sheds her winter coat to reveal a medium-sized baby bump. Maria isn't an expert, but she would estimate around the 5-month mark. Their eating is interrupted when the doors to the other empty hall are opened. Maria quickly gets out of her chair, promising to be back soon. 

Tommy looks confused as Maria pushed him away from the main hall; he had seen she was eating with someone, but Maria had quickly ushered him away. She exhaled before speaking,

"Tommy.” He nodded. “You have to listen to me, ok?”

He nodded again, confused by her tone of voice. Had he done something wrong? Was she angry with him? 

“Is everything okay?” he asked curiously. She nodded at him. 

“Listen,” she started. “I need you to help me identify the girl in there.” She spoke seriously. 

Tommy was confused. No one had ever asked him to identify anyone before. Who was this girl? Why did he have to identify her? 

“Who is she?” he asked. Maria gently placed her hands on his shoulders. 

“You need to be calm about this, okay?” she asked. 

He felt his heart rate pick up at the insinuation. 

“What?” He asked, confused again. 

Maria started hesitantly, “I think.” 

He encouraged her to keep speaking with a nod, 

“I think she’s Joel's daughter.” 

His breath hitched; he knew exactly who she was talking about; there was no way. Y/N was here? 

“I can't be sure, ok, same name, similar ages, but I didn't know her; you did,” 

He stared at Maria for a moment, unsure what to say. Suddenly an surge of energy overtook him; she had lived, Y/N was alive and well, and she had been sitting eating dinner with his wife. 

“Okay!” he said a little louder than he had intended, adrenaline in his veins making him energetic. 

Maria grabbed his arm before he could walk into the hall.

“Tommy, you can't just go in there guns ablazing okay?” Maria warned him, 

“What? I want to see her!” he insisted  Maria sighed,

“I know you do; it's just that." She started but didn't finish her sentence, 

“What, what is it?” He asked urgently, 

"Tommy, she's pregnant.”

He felt his heart stop; she was pregnant. She couldn't be. His heart ached with the fact of her age. How could she be old enough to be a mother herself? He choked on the revelation for a second. 

“She's a little fragile, okay. She's been on her own for a while. I don't want to scare her.” 

He let a breath out slowly before nodding.

“Just identify her, and we can go from there,” she promised him.

He followed behind her closely. She was the only one in the hall, and due to the late hour, Y/N picked at her food slowly, almost as if she was savoring every bite, scared that it might be the last meal she ate. The thought made his heart clench. They approached slowly; he trailed behind Maria, and as soon as he got close enough to see her face, he knew it was her. It felt like there was a shift in the air; he could feel it in the pit of his stomach. 

Being so close to Y/N made him feel weak. He had sworn for so long that she was dead, mourned the loss of one of the most precious people in his life, and here she was sitting in front of him, oblivious to his inner turmoil, oblivious to him standing behind Maria. Maria cleared her throat. 

“Y/N?” she asked, catching the woman's full attention. 

She looked up from her food, nodding at Maria in lieu of a response. 

“There's someone you need to meet, ok?” She looked hesitantly at Maria, suddenly aware that they weren't alone in the room. 

Before he could even comprehend the worry on her face, he stepped out fully into Y/N's view. The room stood still for a second; he panicked in turn at Y/N's silence; had she forgotten him? The thought made his heart clench. 

“Tommy?” A voice broke him through his haze; it sounded so small, almost like she was 13 again. 

He stepped closer to Y/N 

"Tommy, is it really you?” she asked hesitantly, almost like she didn't want to know the answer. 

He nodded as Y/N stood up. He could barely open his arms quick enough before she was hugging him. His arms were tightly around her shoulders. It was all suddenly so real. Y/N had lived. She was here right now in his arms. He pulled back slightly, placing his hands on her shoulders. His eyes brimmed with tears as he surveyed her face; she was so grown up. 

"Christ, honey,” he breathed, “so gorgeous and grown up.” 

Y/N smiled at him bashfully, re-lopping her hands around his neck to pull him close once again. 

“I missed you, Tommy,” she admitted quietly, 

"yeah, I missed you too, more than you know."

He watched as she finished her food, raising an eyebrow at her when she left some of it on her plate, insisting she was full; she wasn't. 

“Tommy?” she asked in between mouthfuls. 

“What's up?” he responded. 

He was willing to tell her just about anything to hear her voice again. 

“Is um-?” She started sounding unsure. “Is Joel alive?” she asked barely above a whisper. 

Tommy smiled again, even wider than he had been; Joel was alive; in fact, he was here, in Jackson, to stay. He moved his chair next to hers, putting an arm around her shoulder. 

“Yeah, he is alive,” he said, smirking lightly. She seemed to exhale at this. 

“In fact, honey, he's here.” Her eyes met his for a second, almost as if she thought he might be lying to her. 

“He's here?” She asked, “In this place?” 

"Jackson,” he supplied for her quickly. 

“In Jackson?” she asked again. 

“Yes, he is. I promise you.” Tommy said seriously. 

Y/N looked at him hopefully. 

“Can I see him?” she asked. 

Tommy glanced at the clock in the big hall before shaking his head.

“It's late; the old man will already be sleeping,” Tommy joked. 

It brought a small smile to her face. 

“How about this?” Tommy started, “You can sleep in my spare bedroom tonight; I'll take you to see him first thing in the morning.” he offered.  

She smiled widely at him, pushing up and out of her chair, a hand delicately under her belly. 

“Maria mentioned something about warm water?” Y/N asked, 

“Yeah, we got that. Take a warm shower before bed if you want.” Tommy spoke. 

Y/N seemed to light up at the prospect of that, gladly placing her hand in the crook of his elbow as they walked together towards his house. 

Tommy wakes up early the next morning. He gently peeks in through the door of his guest bedroom, a breath of relief coming from him as he sees a sleeping Y/N. He had woken up panting lightly pulled from his sleep by fear that it had all been a dream, but it wasn't. Y/N was here sleeping peacefully in the room next to his and Maria's bedroom. 

Tommy was not typically an early riser—not that he had much choice since the world had ended, but it wasn't exactly his calling. He was more like Sarah in that respect; he can recall getting up several hours into Saturday mornings to find that she was still sleeping. Y/N had been the opposite of Sarah, a naturally early riser, who Tommy would often find talking to Joel over a hot chocolate (or in Joel's case, a coffee) on said mornings. They would tease him gently about how they “had been up for hours” before everyone argued about who had the chore of waking Sarah up (they almost always sent Y/N; she was definitely Sarah's favourite amongst the three of them; they always came downstairs together giggling about something a far departure from her usual morning attitude). 

He knows that Joel will be up already; Jackson is waking up slowly; people making their way out of their warm houses, and Joel is no exception. He had always been the early riser out of the brothers; Joel had spent every morning she was there chatting to Y/N in the kitchen as they prepared for the day before anyone else is up. 

Tommy takes a deep breath before knocking; he had tried to plan out what he was going to say. Trying to tell your older brother that his (not technically) daughter that he spent years mourning was actually alive—in fact, she was asleep right now in Tommy's spare bedroom—was far harder than he had anticipated. 

He knocks lightly, unwilling to disturb the otherwise peaceful neighbourhood. It doesn't take long for Joel to answer; he looks unsurprised to see Tommy standing there, inviting him in quickly to sit at the dining table. Tommy isn't sure where to start when Joel asks him what's up, 

"Joel.” He starts seriously, “There is something I need to tell you." 

Joel lets a look of confusion wash over his face. 

“What?” he asks Tommy bluntly. 

Tommy suddenly understood why Maria had been acting so strange yesterday; this was a hard conversation. 

"Joel,” he tried again. "Y/N,” Tommy started, but his sentence was interrupted quickly by Joel. 

“Don’t even start Tommy,” he stated angrily. 

Joel didn't want to ever have to tell anyone about his failing towards the once-young girl; after telling Ellie, it had been too much. Tommy shook his head, effectively silencing an angry-looking Joel. 

“Y/N is alive,” Tommy said firmly. 

Joel quickly turned to disbelief, blinking at Tommy as if this were some cruel joke. 

“Look, Maria found her yesterday a while out; brought her back last night." Tommy continued on, 

"Is it  really her?” Joel asked in disbelief, 

“Yeah, I saw her last night. God, Joel, she was so grown up, I couldn't believe it.” Tommy rambled, 

“Can I see her? Now?” Joel asked quickly. 

Tommy frowned at Joel, not wanting to break his bubble the way Maria had to him last night. 

“Not yet ok?” Tommy spoke carefully. “Maria is taking her to see the doctor, then you can,” he explained. 

Tommy watched the flash on panic crossover Joel's face answering Joel's question before he could even ask it.

“She's fine, not hurt or anything, I mean." Tommy assured me he hesitated before speaking again. “But there is one thing." 

"What?” Joel asked snappily,

“She's pregnant.” Tommy offered. 

Joel couldn't think for a moment, his heart clenching in his chest. 

“Really?” 

Tommy only nodded in response.

 “My baby girl, having a baby?” he spoke aloud. 

The words rang in his ears, when had she gotten so old? Joel swore that she was still the young teenage girl he could remember her being. 

“I'll bring her over to yours when she's done, okay?” Tommy told Joel, gently patting his older brother's shoulders as he stood to leave.

Joel nodded in response, unsure of what to say; he had had too many revelations for one day, and it was making his head spin. 

He couldn't think after that and sat at his dining table staring at the abandoned cold cup of coffee; if he stared at it for long enough, he could see her face; perhaps he was really losing it seeing a thirteen-year-old Y/N in his cold cup of coffee.

A knock at the door pulls him violently out of his own head. He knocks over the cold cup of coffee, swearing as it begins to drip off the side of the table. 

“One sec!” he yells out, continuing to swear under his breath as he quickly cleans it up.

His hands shake lightly as he throws the dirty cloth into the sink. He takes a deep breath, unaffectedly trying to steady himself. He opens the door slowly and is greeted with the sight of Tommy smiling at him as he steps closer to Joel.

“I'm gonna leave y’all to it, okay?” 

Joel nods before Tommy steps back, revealing a nervous-looking Y/N behind him. 

Joel can't even process it unmoving as he takes her in fully; she had grown. Of course she had, but it still made his heart ache. Before he can even think about the wetness occurring on his eyeline as he pulls her close, he grips her so tight, gripping the back of her head against his chest.

“Joel” Y/N whimpers, looking up at him with wet eyes. 

Joel wanted to say so many things—to apologize for the time he had lost together, to say sorry for losing her—but he couldn't. He pulled back slightly, encompassing her face with his hands. She leaned into him, nuzzling her cheek into his palm.

 “I know, baby, I know,” he promised. 

“I missed you, Joel, so much." Y/N said quietly, resting her head on Joel's chest. 

He wondered if she could feel it clench beneath his skin at her words. 

“I missed you more than you'll ever know, sweetie,” he spoke gently to her, “and I promise, I swear that you'll never be alone again, baby girl; I'll always be here for you." Joel spoke softly; 

He felt Y/N pull him impossibly closer at his words. 

“I love you, babygirl,” he whispered to her, “my baby girl.”.

[violettduchess]

A/N: A continuation of this headcanon, here is the same scenario with Chevalier and Licht, a small child entering their bedroom in the middle of the night

WC: 1.3

The child's white bedroom door, painted with a silvery moon and twinkling stars, opens slowly, a whisper in the still of the night. A small head pokes out, knuckling sleepily at eyes still heavy with the remnants of dreaming. A look left, then right.

The hall is empty.

Tiny bare feet tiptoe across plush carpeting.

One hand clutches a stuffed animal, the other reaches for the curved handle of your bedroom door and which, on a quiet exhale, opens.

Chevalier

The door slowly opens and a pale head of blond hair, silvery in the moonlight that spills through the bedroom window, peeks around the corner. Chevalier is still awake, reading by the warm glow of the oil lamp on his nightstand. You are sound asleep on your side of the bed, your feet stretched out and resting against his legs. It’s a small thing really, but he cannot deny the way it feels to know that even in sleep, you seek him out.

He lowers his book, making eye-contact with the little girl who is still peering around the door. “Yes?” It’s invitation enough. She enters, her stuffed white tiger tucked under one arm, both hands clutching a book to her chest. She approaches his side of the large bed, shoulders squared as she looks at her father, quiet determination in her expression. Chevalier glances at the silver clock, ticking quietly away on his nightstand, next to the lamp. “You should be sleeping.”

She nods, drawing a breath. “I know, Papa. But I have a dilemma.”

He forces himself not to smile at her very serious expression but the warmth is there, winding its way around his heart as he regards her. “Do you?” 

Carefully, she lays the book she’s been holding down onto his lap. He recognizes it as the book of fairy tales he has been reading to her for the past few nights, the one you had gotten for her birthday a fortnight ago. “I would like you to finish the story we began this evening. The one about the fae and the knight.”

Chevalier tilts his head, regarding her. “I believe we had this discussion an hour ago when it was your bedtime and I told you we would finish it tomorrow night.” 

She clears her throat, looking at him with eyes as blue as the endless sea, eyes that perfectly mirror his own. “I know and that is my dilemma. However…I’ve thought about it. And I have a good reason why we should continue now.”

His eyebrows raise ever so slightly. “Go on.”

She takes a moment, gathering her thoughts. “You see, the story was so interesting that I have not been able to sleep. In fact, I have been kept quite awake wondering what is going to happen. As you said Papa, this has already cost me an hour of rest. But…” She takes a deep breath, reading herself for the heart of her plea. “If you were to read me the last three pages, it would take you approximately fifteen minutes. And then I would know how the tale ends. And I could go to bed. If not, I worry I may continue to toss and turn and my sleep will be further interrupted.” 

He does not answer a moment. His words momentarily robbed by the strange and heady mixture of pride and love for his daughter that is squeezing his heart, an emotion she so often evokes and that never fails to leave him amazed. She waits, the only sign that she is eager to hear his response is the impatient wiggling of her toes. Finally, the corner of his lips lift in a soft smile.

“You make a very compelling argument.” He sets aside his book and then gets out of bed, taking her fairy tale book in one hand and holding out his other to her. “We’ll finish the story in your room, in our reading chair so that we don’t wake your mother.”

She smiles, brighter than the full moon, and suddenly he sees you, his beloved wife. There you are, the echo of your warmth and joy painted across her young face. The warmth and joy that reached through the walls around his heart and gathered him close, taught him not only was he worthy of love but he could love back just as fiercely. 

And here, your daughter, the living embodiment of that very love, grips his large hand happily as she leads the way back to her room. Impulsively she turns her head and kisses the top of his hand. “Thank you, Papa.” Chevalier answers her affection with a tender smile and a squeeze of her hand in return. “You are very, very welcome.”

Licht

He stirs the moment the bedroom door opens, having not quite sunk into the well of dreaming yet. Pushing himself up, his first instinct is to reach for the nightstand drawer where his dagger is waiting to bite into any intruder. But his hand stills, midair, when he sees who is peeking her pale head around the door. “Papa?” 

He murmurs her name and motions for his daughter to come in as you sleepily rub at your eyes, rolling over to see what’s going on. She rushes to the bed, her stuffed wolf held by its bushy tail. It’s only when she’s close that he notices the watery eyes, the rapid way her small chest rises and falls, the paleness of her cheeks.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” She climbs onto the bed and launches herself into her father’s arms, burying her face in the soft white linen of his sleepshirt. “I had a bad dream,” is her muffled reply. 

Licht’s breath hitches in his throat. He is far too familiar with the phantoms that still sometimes haunt his nights, the dark tendrils of fear and terror and pain that wrap themselves around his mind at its most vulnerable. Noticing the way he’s frozen, you reach over, placing a reassuring hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing gently even as you reach with the other hand to touch your daughter’s bare foot, letting her know you are there for her.

Licht breathes in, your touch bringing him back from the shadows. He adjusts his arms around her, then strokes her moonlight-hair with a steady hand. Your touch on his back soothes him, sending calm waves of warmth through him, the same steady flow of love and reassurance he is giving to your child.

“Dreams can feel very real,” he murmurs, speaking slowly and tenderly, his lips resting on the top of her head. “And it’s ok to be scared.” You nod, resting your chin on Licht’s shoulder and brush the back of your fingers against her round little cheek. “We’re here for you, my love. Always.”

She leans back, sniffling and Licht tenderly brushes her hair away from her flushed face. “Can I sleep here tonight?” He nods immediately, a smile gracing his lips as she climbs her way over the both of you to wiggle herself under the covers. Her wolf tucked close to her chest, she throws herself against her father, eliciting a soft laugh before snuggling up against his side, her head on his chest. 

Licht glances at you over her head, his eyes the soft red of sunset as he extends his arm in invitation. You slide closer, curling up against your daughter, your head pillowed by his arm. 

No nightmares trouble any of you for the rest of the peaceful night.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet

@silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton

@ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp

@got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network

@sh0jun @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny

@chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss

[essentiallyleaf]

day 20. cockwarming. with. jisoo.

1105 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, cockwarming, angst, i don’t even know anymore, possibly the coldest cockwarming fic to ever exist, so much angst and for what.

notes.

short and a little rushed. sounds just like every day of my life. exhaustedly, leaf.

You plop down on the bed, barely able to take your black dress pants off before the dizziness gets the best of you. Jisoo is there, laying still, facing away from you and towards the cloud-shielded moon outside of the open window, like she always is. You can’t really tell if she’s awake or not, and the alcohol certainly doesn’t help.

This must be what they mean when they talk about magnetic fields. We’re immersed in them all the time, but we can’t see it, something about a wavelength our eyes are not tuned to. It’s like even when it’s past your bedtime (which on a weekend night like tonight is at least three hours after your regular bedtime), the sky completely starless, when you zig-zag through the streets and keeping your balance requires a voluntary effort, when your white shirt has more than one almost fully dried Bordeaux stain on it, you don’t know why or how, but your red needle always points back home, back to her.

You always manage to find your way to your shared bed, well, shared right in this moment, but often, too often one could easily argue, the bed feels hollow and freezing as Jisoo’s in it alone. Maybe that’s why the first thing she does when you lie down on it, is take your strong arm and wrap it around her waist to hold her close and share some of your alcohol-boosted warmth, and keep her own arm over it as if to ask you to never let go, never leave her again. She’s awake. Your natural response is to use your other hand to brush her long, silky black hair and watch it flow through your fingers, but as she feels your breath caress her shoulders, she knows that you can’t promise much more than that.

This shouldn't work. Well, to be fair, it isn’t working. But throwing stuff away, whether it’s dropping old photos in the fireplace, or leaving an entire relationship behind you to possibly never see your special person again, that hurts. It’s not just about the value of it, no, if that was the case, if that thing you’re throwing away still brought value to you, then you wouldn't be getting rid of it, right? It’s about admitting that something went wrong along the road, that things didn’t work out, that a wrong turn was taken, and that maybe, you were the one who took it. So the only thing you can do is turn away, keep going down that road, and if you ever happen to look back in a moment of accidental lucidity, justify your own mistakes.

So Jisoo reaches back and starts rubbing the outer side of your naked thigh, slowly traveling up to your ass as you lay a trail of quick kisses on her shoulder. Once she starts fiddling with the hem of your boxers and pushing her own butt back towards you, you get the message. You take your underwear off and stroke your dick a couple times before her nightgown is hiked up and her cheeks fully envelop your length. Your pecks take a trip up to her neck while both of you start shifting your hips up and down, back and forth against one another’s, a couple of low moans leaving your mouth.

It was your fault, but what if it wasn’t? What if that girl, what was her name even, hadn’t asked you for a lighter? What if she hadn’t looked at you all night with those warm brown eyes, what if she hadn’t asked you for a ride home? Any of those would’ve fixed this. The nights of yelling at each other’s faces and the nights of dead silence, the feeling of unbridgeable distance even when holding hands, the cool air of beach days in the middle of August. Maybe invisible walls are the best solution in some cases, and fuck it if they break some people’s immersion, as long as you can see the sun rise in the distance, you can live with not being able to touch it.

Jisoo suddenly stops her motion just to raise her thigh a little, suggesting you to enter. You align yourself with her slit and penetrate her warmth, her slick coating easing you through her walls and quickly letting you bottom out inside her, but as soon as you try to retreat, she puts a hand on your hip, halting its movement. She just places her thigh back down and stays still for a few seconds. A few seconds that enclose some kind of understanding, or, a feeling of understanding, at the very least. Most of the times when you have a revelation, an epiphany, you have no idea what the fuck is being revealed to you, you only see the light bulb turn on. Your kisses get wetter and longer, traveling from her upper neck to her ear and to her jaw, your hand finds itself on her soft, perfectly sized mound. She starts contracting her abdominal muscles repeatedly and rhythmically, squeezing your shaft between her tight walls, your pelvis still fixed in its place. You see her skin glow more than usual under the faint moonlight, and you think you taste a little salt as your tongue brushes her cheek, which you can’t help but groan on every time Jisoo tenses around you.

Invisible walls are not meant to be broken. They’re meant to disengage, to discourage. What does it say about us when they manage to do what they’re meant to? Is it sad, disheartening? Does it speak about our sense of agency as a whole? What if you did something different, what if it was your fault? You can’t go back, so what can you do about it now? Another night of getting drunk, another night of having sex, in each other’s embrace but miles away.

Your hand feels up her thigh as hers reaches between your legs from the back and starts massaging your testicles. You can’t hold back anymore. Her abs contract once, twice. You stop counting, she feels too good. Your thigh wraps around hers as you cum inside, letting out multiple guttural moans right next to her ear. You drop load after load of white paint onto her walls and into her womb.

You think you hear a little sniffle. Again, the only response is to caress her hair and leave one long kiss on the back of her head. Not more. Sometimes we hurt people that love us, love people that hurt us. And if it’s true that opposites attract, then likes must also repel.

-

footnotes.

sorry if this is depressing. how can i help you get back to horny, the superior mood? lunatically, leaf.

[sycamorelibrary754]

Come Home To Me

Summary: After returning home to the Avengers Compound from separate solo missions, Wanda learns the meaning behind one of your tattoos is more than what it seems.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Avenger!Reader.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: None

A/N: Behold, my first attempt at writing a fic. I'm pleased with the end result, so I'm being brave & posting it. Shoutout to @yelenasdiary for encouraging me to give it a go. 💜

The soft glow of morning light gently filtered through the window of Wanda's bedroom, casting a warm and serene ambiance as we cozied beneath the covers. You mentally thanked Tony for his thoughtfulness in installing blackout curtains. Wanda's crimson magic gracefully wove around the fabric, embracing the room in a comforting cloak of darkness.

You had both returned from solo no-contact missions the night before. Usually, you did your best to keep in touch when both of you were on separate missions, even if it was only an emoji to let the other know that you were there. Without that contact, you both felt like ships lost at sea with nothing to anchor you. 

Wanda was the first to arrive home. After her debriefing with Fury, she was determined to stay awake for your impending arrival. 

As Natasha strolled by Wanda on her way to her room, she shot her a sly grin. "No training tomorrow," she announced, without breaking her stride or waiting for a response.

Wanda spun around, facing the Black Widow as she strode purposefully past her toward the compound kitchen. "Why?

Nat didn't even bother turning around as she called out in response, "You know why."

Upon returning to her room after a long day, Wanda slipped into her soft, lavender-colored pajamas. She picked up the remote and turned on her well-loved episode of the Dick Van Dyke show. It was the one where Laura gets locked in the bank vault, a scene she had watched countless times before, but it never failed to bring her comfort. The familiar jokes and the warmth of the characters made her feel like she was in the company of old friends, a feeling she cherished, especially when she was on her own.

An hour passed before the Quinjet gently descended onto the compound's grounds. With exhaustion weighing heavily on me, I navigated my way to the debriefing, then to the Med Bay, where I received a few minor stitches on my leg, and finally to my room for a quick shower. When I finally reached Wanda's room, the only sound that greeted me as I slowly pushed open the door was the familiar laugh track of her favorite show emanating from the television. The glow from the screencast a soft illumination over Wanda's sleeping form nestled under the covers. I carefully made my way to my side of the bed and quietly curled up next to her. Her eyes slowly opened as she stirred to reveal my exhausted yet affectionate smile.

"Hey there, sweetheart," you greeted warmly.

"Welcome home," Wanda whispered, her voice filled with warmth and relief.

"Right back at you," you murmured, tenderly tracing your hand along her cheek.

After such a long time without her touch, you had almost forgotten the feeling of not sleeping alone. When you finally came together for a gentle kiss, it felt like time stood still. It wasn't out of desperation but a deep contentment as you finally felt complete again.

"Come on, my love, it's time to return to dreamland. It's way past our bedtime," you whispered as you switched off the TV and snuggled under the covers together.

"We have the day off tomorrow," Wanda softly mumbled, her Sokovian accent adding a touch of warmth to her weary voice. As you found solace in her embrace, the day's weariness faded, and you drifted off to sleep, your hands and hearts intertwined.

*^~^*

As you lie in bed, Wanda traces the intricate outlines of the tattoos that adorn your right arm. They deeply fascinate her as they tell a story she's eager to unravel.

"What's the significance of the owl?" she asked, piercing the heavy silence.

"What?" Your gaze shifts to meet her captivating green eyes.

“The owl tattoo on your forearm.” Wanda reiterated.

“In Ancient Greece, the owl was considered the companion of Athena, the goddess of wisdom. It was believed to symbolize protection, and if an owl flew over Greek soldiers before a battle, they took it as a sign of impending victory,” you explained. “Fascinating, right?”

As you glance down at the tattoo on your arm, Wanda nods in understanding while you gently trace your fingers over the intricate ink design.

There's another reason," you whisper so softly that Wanda almost misses it. "When I'm on a mission without you, it reminds me that I'll always find my way back to you. No matter where I am, I'll be victorious and come home to you.

Wanda gently reaches out and takes your face in her hands, her fingers tracing a soothing path across your skin. A warm, comforting sensation follows in the wake of her touch as if her magic is trailing around your head, easing the inner turmoil of your mind. As her eyes meet yours, they exude a gentle reassurance that says, "It's okay, you can trust me." At that moment, she can hear the unspoken questions in your mind, doubting about sharing so much.

“I love you with all my heart,” Wanda declared. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

"I love you too," you respond with a smile.

After a few weeks, Wanda geared up for a crucial mission alongside Nat and Bucky. They aimed to infiltrate a clandestine Hydra facility, conducting experimental activities related to new technology. While Wanda had encountered similar technologies in the past, the prospect of facing it again was unsettling, evoking vivid memories of her time in Hydra facilities with Pietro. As the team pressed on, the only sound that penetrated Wanda's thoughts was Nat's announcement that they were nearing their target and Bucky sharing another anecdote from his 1940s escapades in Brooklyn with Steve.

Missing you, Wanda absentmindedly reaches into the front pocket of her suit and feels the creases of a folded-up note against her fingertips. Removing it slowly, she recognizes your chicken scratch handwriting that you despise but that she finds adorable. 

Come home to me, Wanda. 

Forever my love,

Y/N

As Wanda opened the small black box, she was met with the sight of an exquisitely ornate silver owl ring nestled inside. With a hint of edginess and an air of elegance, she discreetly slid the ring onto her right finger. It glided into place effortlessly, almost as if it had been waiting for her all along. That spot became its permanent home from that moment onward, unwavering through any mission or circumstance. While you had your owl, she had hers.

The rest of the team might see it as just a piece of jewelry, but Nat always catches Wanda stealing glances at the ring during briefings, especially when you're not around. And Yelena still can't figure out why she couldn't borrow it for a date night with Kate. To your enchanting witch, it's not just a ring. It's a constant reminder of your love—a silent vow to find your way back to each other's arms.

[sirianasims]

The Don Diaries

During dinner, Dani tells Don and Matteo about her job and asks them all about life on the farm.

Don can't take his eyes off her. His heart aches when she makes Matteo laugh with crazy stories of what Mr. Corn has been up to in the city, and he wants her to stay forever, to be a part of this family.

He manages to keep mostly chill during the entire meal, even when Dani asks a few subtle questions about whether it ever gets lonely out here. Thankfully, Matteo gets into the New Year spirit and starts throwing confetti.

After dinner, they watch the countdown to midnight. Woofer is tired and a little confused about why everyone is awake way past normal bedtime. He hopes this won't become a habit.

Finally, it's midnight, and Matteo insists that Dani tucks him in.

She's very happy to do so, which suits Don just fine. He has a surprise to prepare.

Matteo falls asleep almost instantly, and Dani comes back down. Don is ready.

Dani is thrilled, no one ever gave her flowers before - but what's this?

She reads the card. In a few simple sentences, Don bares his heart, lays out his feelings, and asks her to be his girlfriend.

It's a very enthusiastic yes!

With that yes, Don has completed his Serial Romantic aspiration, and is finally able to leave his old ways behind him for good.

This calls for celebration, although they're both too tired for actual fireworks tonight. Featherworks? It doesn't matter, they can make up for it later.

Don has a new aspiration now, and they have all the time in the world.

chrono - previous - next

[bearbunnycheetah]

🐆🐻✨CHAPTER 3: SUNNY SIDE OF THINGS✨🐻🐆

Note: Stuffs been going wild so I posted this WAYY later than I wanted, but I hope you guys still enjoy!

Percy reaches for her keys and opens the door, turning on the lights to her apartment. They flickered to life and illuminated the space. The sisters both looked inside, it was a pretty nice looking place all things considered. 

A small living room to the left with a tv, an open kitchen to the right, and what appears to be a mini hallway leading to three doors infront of them. Percy’s home had a nice dull blue wallpaper covering mostly everything. Molly looked at a clock on the wall, 10PM. Way past her bedtime at this point.

“You two need some rest, we can discuss the layout of my apartment and other things in the morning. Are you two sure you don’t wish to take my room for the night?”

“Sleeping in someone elses room is weird.” Lorelai said, crossing her arms as she looked around.

“Yeah, we can take the couch or the floor. We don’t really mind! I promise!” Molly smiled apologetically, Lori rolled her eyes.

Percy nods. “Alright, please go ahead and sit down. I will go ahead to get some pillows and blankets for you two.” She smiles at them, then leaves the room.

Molly waits for Percy to be completely gone, then lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She sits down on the couch, then grabs her phone from her pocket. Molly opens the group chat she has with her friends, and starts typing.

—————

Molly: Hi guys, anyone still awake?

PHANTOM OF POTIONS PAST, GRIMLORD OF DARKNESS!: HIIII! Yes I am indeed awake >:]

Molly: Oh, hi Trixie! I’m assuming Feenie’s asleep cause it’s her bedtime?

PoPPGoD: Yeahh probably! Why are you up so late anyway? Did something happen?

Molly: Yeah, my dad got arrested.

PoPPGoD: WOOOOOOO! 

Molly: Trixie…

PoPPGoD: Oh whoops, sorry- what happened?

Molly: The cop that interviewed me a bit ago about the museum apparently found out about my situation and took me and Lori in. Currently in her apartment right now.

PoPPGoD: I dont trust them coppers… but as long as ur OK, im OK! >:D

Molly: Thanks Trixie… I’ll see if I can go more indepth on what happened tomorrow at school. I’m getting sleepy.

PoPPGoD: Oke, sweet dreams!

Molly: Night!

—————

Molly leans back into the sofa, then smiles. Hopefully she’ll be able to go to school tomorrow and talk to them.

“I’m back, apologies for the wait.” Percy walks in holding several pillows and blankets, all in mostly blues, yellows, and whites.

“Dibs on the couch!” Lorelai said, grabbing some pillows and immediately making herself comfortable. Her knight costume poofed out of existence in a flash of glitter into her normal outfit.

“But- aw, fine...” Molly sighed in defeat, standing up from the couch.

Oh well, the floor is probably fine. Considering it’s Percy she probably keeps it pretty clean. Theres a rug too so maybe it’s a bit comfier..? It takes a few minutes for Molly to finally get to a comfortable enough position to lay down.

“Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight, Percy!”

“…Night.”

And with that, Percy turns off the lights and goes to her room. Immediately falling asleep when she lays down in bed. The noise of the city melting together into a cacophany of sounds that were oddly comforting, she’s probably gonna take a few days off from work to help the two adjust. 

Percy should wake up early tomorrow, her usual breakfast was just toast and some water but these two probably needed more food than that. Maybe something like cereal? No, far too sugary. She wasn’t even sure if she had anything like that. Toast, water, orange juice, eggs-

Wait, eggs?

There was a smell of something being cooked from the kitchen, Percy stirred and opened her eyes. Oh dear, it was morning already? She looks at her alarm clock. 5:40 AM. How peculiar, she gets up from her bed and puts on her slippers to investigate.

Percy walked into the living room, the pillows and blankets were folded neatly and placed on the coffee table. While the couch where Lorelai was sleeping had an… iridescent bubble in its place.

It clipped into the floor and couch as if it was a bugged model in a video game. She stared in utter confusion for a bit before a voice from the kitchen piped up.

“Morning Percy!” Molly said, holding a pan. Why was she making breakfast?

Percy flinched, completely forgetting that she got up to see who was awake this early. “Ah! Good morning to you too, Molly.” Percy turns to her and gestures to the bubble. “May I ask why your sister has turnt into a sphere?”

“Oh, it’s just an epithet thing.” Molly puts the pan in the sink. “Lorelai can make these things called ‘dream bubbles’ where she makes these fantasy worlds, sometimes she just sleep-inscribes.”

“I see… Why are you up so early?”

“Oh! Well… I wanted to repay you for letting us stay here so I thought I should make breakfast!” Molly points at the table. There was buttered toast and eggs, either boiled or sunnyside up. “We should probably go get groceries and stuff, there wasn’t a lot in your fridge to work with…”

“Noted. But thank you for this, Molly.” Percy goes to sit down, then picks up a boiled egg and inspects it closely. “So, about your sister…”

“Don’t worry, I can go wake her up.” Molly looks at the bubble for a second, then walks over to the couch.

Percy watches in curiosity, she knew Molly and Lorelai had epithets from their files. “DUMB” and “AUGMENT” respectively, but she’s never seen it in action. Percy watched as Molly knocked on the bubble for a few seconds, calling Lorelais name repeatedly to wake her up. After a few minutes she rolled her eyes, reaching her hand out as a small green glow appeared. 

Molly moved her hand closer to the iridescent surface and a hole appeared like a rift in the air. Slowly the gap grew bigger until it was about the size of Molly herself. She entered the bubble and the hole dissapeared along with her.

Percy decided to go and make some coffee while she waited since she still felt a bit tired from last night, more and more time passes and… POOF!

The detective turnt around, alarmed at the sudden sound. Then there stood a groggy Lorelai and a mildly upset Molly.

“Good morning, Lorelai!” Percy said, grabbing her drink without looking and returning to the small dining table. Honestly you probably couldn’t even consider it a dining table, more like a table for one that crammed three chairs.

“Yeah, morning.” Lorelai wiped away the fog from her eyes, then quietly went over to the table grabbing a plate. Molly followed.

“I decided to go ahead and work from home while you two get settled here.” Percy takes a sip of coffee. “Since you two have school I will be responsible for your education for the time being.”

“Me and Lorelai usually change between having to work and having to go to school. I attend school on odd days and she attends school on even ones so that means-” 

“You have to go to school and I get to stay here and relax!” Lorelai interrupts her and grins, Molly scowls at her.

Percy thinks for a second, she never thought the situation was this bad. Who on earth would let a child work instead of attend school!? Oh wait, Martin would. “I… suppose we can still use this system, even for just a few days as you two adjust.” She smiles. “And since I’m not very well acquainted with Miss Lorelai, then perhaps we can use this as a bonding opportunity!”

The three of them continue talking. Percy explaining the layout of the house, the chores, and potentially getting the two of them a room to share, more and more time passes till they all finish and go do their own thing.

Lorelai made another bubble in the corner of the living room, Percy did the dishes, and Molly got ready for school.

Molly already had her schoolwork in her backpack, so she had no need to go back to the emporium to retrieve her things. That was nice! She sat at the couch waiting, when Percys voice piped up.

“Are you ready for school?” Percy asked, walking up to Molly.

“Uh, yeah! Are you gonna drive me there?” 

“No need, your public school is conveniently just a short jog away from my apartment! If you count 20 minutes short, I mean.” The detective held up a metal lunchbox, it had the SJPD logo on the center, so that probably meant it belonged to Percy. “I’ve also taken the time to go ahead and make you some lunch.”

“Really..?” Molly walked up to the lunch box and grabbed it from Percys hand, staring at it. “Theres… Really no need to do that, I usually just ask my friends or buy some stuff at the cafeteria.”

“I personally do not think the cafeteria food they serve is enough for a childs daily diet.” Percy explains. “You can just think of it as a thank-you for making breakfast.” She smiled.

Molly stopped staring at the lunchbox realizing that was probably weird, then turns to Percy to smile at her too.

“Well then, I’ll go ahead and drop you off at school. I’m assuming your sister will be fine if I leave her for a few minutes?”

“She can last in bubbles for hours, she’ll be fine.” Molly explains.

And then the two of them leave the apartment. The streets here were much, much louder than Molly expected. She covers her ears as she walked, which Percy took note of. More time passes and Percy drops off Molly at school. 

Molly waved goodbye at her as she walked away when a sudden jingling bell sound grew closer and closer until-

“MOLLY!!!”

Phoenica Fleecity and Trixie Roughhouse hugged Molly as tight as they could, which was less bone-crushing and more soft and fluffy due to Feenie. “Trixie told me everything! We’re so glad you’re okay!”

“She did?” Oh right, Molly sent a message to the group chat. 

“Really happy that dad of yours is outta the picture now!” Trixie said, grinning.

“Haha, yeah. I am too…” Molly hugged them both back, the hug lasted for a few seconds before the bell rang.

“…How about I tell you guys everything when lunch comes around?” Molly asked.

“Oh sure! Stay safe Molly!” Phoenica smiled even harder then let go of both of them, walking off to her class.

“You do too…” 

“…So did Lorelai get arrested too?” Trixie piped up.

“Trixie!” She playfully shoved them with an elbow. “Don’t be like that!”

“Yeah yeah, I know! Just checkin!”

Note: MAKING THESE CUSTOM BACKGROUNDS WERE SO TIME CONSUMING. IT LITERALLY TOOK LONGER THAN THE ACTUAL CHAPTER ITSELF AND DELAYED IT FOR LIKE TWO WEEKS DEAR GOD. Hopefully now that this is out I can go back to answering asks for the characters and posting art too! Super proud of this one!

~Cherry

1ST CHAPTER | << PREV | NEXT >>

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Even If It's a False God, We'd Still Worship This Love

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 9

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

7k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of drinking, some drunken spiciness, family teasing, very brief uses of my terrible Spanish, lots and lots of pining, angst, Roy is an idiot

A/N: There's a couple of Selena songs in this chapter. I highly recommend these covers, especially while reading!

-I Could Fall in Love

-Dreaming of You

Roy glanced up over the top of his book across the plane. She was curled up in her seat, eyes fixated on the notebook in her hands. They’d both been sleepy as they boarded the plane early that morning, not saying much to each other as they settled in and accepted water bottles from the lone flight attendant.

Initially, the ‘couple’ had sat side-by-side, with the singer dozing off quickly, her head nestled on Roy’s shoulder; he'd heard her get up well past their agreed upon bedtime to go work at her piano until some ungodly hour. While she dozed, Roy reflected on the night before, on the feeling of his breath skimming over her bare skin. Even that brief, barely there contact had been enough to send Roy reeling for the rest of the night. Had she felt his kiss (if he could even call it that)? What was she thinking? Why hadn’t she said anything?

And what the fuck was wrong with Roy?

Eventually, she stirred, offering Roy a sheepish grin when she realized she’d been using him as a pillow. Some little part of him wanted to assure her she was fine, she could sleep on him whenever she wanted, hell she could lean on him while she was awake if she wanted. He was half tempted to wrap an arm around her and tug her back to himself- and not for the benefit of the flight attendant who smiled knowingly at the pair.

Instead, Roy watched as the singer had settled herself in a window seat across the jet, scribbling furiously and hardly paying any attention to Roy. Roy, meanwhile, had hardly absorbed a word of his book. He wondered what she was writing and, more importantly, who she was writing about. Curiosity, he assured himself as his eyes darted back to the words currently swimming on the page. It was simple curiosity. Same thing that made him try to kiss her neck. He cringed internally at the memory.

“What’s up with you?”

Oh shit. Maybe his cringe wasn’t completely internal. “Fuck d’you mean?” Roy grumbled, trying to act like his usual aloof self, the self he realized he had been acting like less and less lately.

She cocked her head at him. “You’re making this weird face.” She smirked. “Dreading having to meet my folks, Kent?”

Alright. So, either she had no idea he’d tried to kiss her, or she decided to pretend it never happened. Either way, Roy decided to shift focus. “What’re you working on over there, sunshine? Something about me?” He hoped his voice was light and teasing; ever since their holiday at the lake, he was desperate to get back to that joking, playful place they’d finally gotten to.

Even though her eyes went wide and she clutched the notebook to her chest, Roy definitely caught the way the corner of her mouth ticked upwards. “No previews,” she chucked. “But when this one’s done…” Her gaze turned warm. “You’ll be the first one to hear it, Roycito.”

~

My heart skipped a beat as I glanced across the backseat at Roy. During our flight, he’d been content to read and watch movies; in between, he’d teased me about whatever I was writing and tried to sneak peeks. Now, he sat facing the window of the SUV that had picked us up at the airport, fingers drumming on his good knee. As if he could feel my gaze, he glanced over at me and cocked an eyebrow.

“All good, sunshine?”

Hmm, I thought sarcastically, let’s see. You gave me a thoughtful gift and tried to kiss my neck, didn’t say a word about it and then accused me of not liking your admittedly super sweet and gorgeous ex-girlfriend. You’re about to meet my entire family, and oh, yeah, I am desperately in love with you. Yeah, everything’s definitely all good, Kent.

Instead of blurting out the word vomit in my brain, I simply shrugged at Roy. “Just a little nervous about introducing you to my parents,” I murmured, turning to look out my own window. “But it’ll be fine,” I assured him. “Just be yourself.” Deciding we needed to ease the tension in the car, I turned back to him and raised a cool eyebrow. “Or maybe a better version of yourself,” I teased.

That did it. Roy cracked a smile and reached across the seat to shove my thigh gently. “Fuck off,” he growled, totally unaware of the way his touch sent my heart into overdrive- especially when he left his hand there for the rest of the drive.

Neither of us said another word until the car pulled up in front of the house- the one gift my parents had ever accepted from me- and I laid my hand on top of Roy’s. With a deep breath, I hummed, “Showtime.”

I clutched Roy’s hand in mine as we entered the house; despite my hammering heart, the sight had my shoulders relaxing immediately. Although this wasn’t the house I’d grown up in, it was filled with all the furniture, photographs, and nicknacks from my childhood. It was warm and familiar, like the old blanket that I still kept folded neatly at the end of my bed in England. Roy blinked as he took in the sight of my childhood photos, the ones that featured embarrassing haircuts and ice cream-covered smiles.

“Ma!” I called as I tugged him towards the kitchen. “Dad!”

In a blur of squeals and Spanglish, I was wrapped in the most familiar arms in the world and enveloped in the ever-present scent of rose perfume. My mother squeezed me tight, too excited to decide if she wanted to chatter away in English or Spanish. When she finally let me go, I saw the soft look in Roy’s eyes, the look I sometimes spotted when he thought I wasn’t looking. Offering my shyest smile, I took his hand and tugged him close.

“This is Roy,” I said simply, ignoring the gnawing voices reminding me that this would be the only time my family would meet the footballer; the next time I came home, this fake relationship would be nothing but a distant memory.

“Mucho gusto,” Roy said, his voice dripping with uncertainty.

Despite the years of being on me and my siblings about our broken Spanish and imperfect accents, my mother fawned over the four stiff little syllables Roy offered. She pulled him into a hug, chattering about how nice it was to meet him, how handsome he was, until finally, the expected question flew out of her mouth:

“Are you hungry, Roy?”

Clearly remembering my warnings, Roy simply smiled and nodded; even if he said no, she’d make him a plate anyway. So, he allowed himself to be led to the dining room table that was older than both of us and plopped down in what was usually my seat. I sat beside him and laid my hand on top of this.

“Mucho gusto?” I teased as my mother began scurrying around to load a plate of rice and chicken. “I didn’t know you knew Spanish, Kent. I guess I should’ve asked.”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards. “I… asked Rojas to teach me a couple things,” he admitted quietly. “Nothing to brag about, just a few things to impress your parents.” He winked. “Plus all the good swear words.”

My heart slammed against my chest as Roy thanked my mother for the food she set in front of him. He learned Spanish, I thought dreamily. For me.

Before I could linger too long on those words, my father ambled in, eyebrows raised and a small smile on his face. Roy was immediately on his feet, extending his hand towards my dad.

“Good to meet you, sir,” Roy said after I’d made introductions. Something told me Roy Kent didn’t often call people ‘sir’.

“Nice to finally meet you, Roy,” my father hummed. He turned to me with a hug that, while not as smothering as my mother’s, was just as warm. “Mi Estrella,” he murmured as he squeezed me tight.

When he let me go, Roy was looking at me with curiosity. “Estrella?” he repeated quietly.

I nodded. “My dad’s nickname for me,” I explained. “It means star.” I grinned at my dad. “He says that ever since I was a little girl, he knew I was going to be a star someday.”

“Guess I should start calling you starshine instead of sunshine,” Roy joked with a wink.

While Roy continued eating, my parents gushed over the details of my niece’s quinceañera, about the venue and the dress and how beyond stressed my sister was.

“I’ve got to go help your brother find a new jacket,” my dad grumbled to me with a wrinkled nose. “Leave it to my sons to leave everything until the last minute.” He eyed Roy carefully. “Want to come, Roy?”

Roy nearly choked on the last bits of rice as he turned to me. “Er…”

I shrugged. “If you want to,” I said. I laid my hand on top of his. “It might be fun.”

His shoulders relaxed as he looked down at our hands. “Sure,” he murmured. “Might be fun.”

~

Como la flor

Con tanto amor

Me diste tú, se marchitó

Me marcho hoy, yo sé perder

I closed my eyes and swayed my hips as I clutched my pastry blender in my hand, mixing the ingredients in the glass bowl on the counter. With Roy out with my father and brothers, I decided to enjoy some rare alone time in my L.A. home, in the kitchen I used all too rarely. Music blasting, cookies baking- just like when I was a teenager in my grandmother's kitchen, dreaming of the day I’d be as famous as the singers I listened to.

“Are you making cookies?”

Roy stood in the doorway, twirling a set of keys around his finger; I recognized the keychain my mother kept around her copy of my housekey so she could check on the house while I was gone, despite my insistence that I could hire someone to do it for me.

He stepped closer, eying the dough I’d been working on. “Your dad just dropped me off,” he explained. “Hope that’s alright.”

I nodded and continued mixing my dough. “Of course,” I assured him. “You have fun?”

“Believe it or not, I did.” Roy chuckled and took his phone out of his pocket. “It was your dad and your brother and a couple of your uncles, just shopping and fucking about. They’re actually pretty cool.”

“Please don’t tell them that,” I snorted. “They’d never shut up if they thought a professional athlete called them ‘cool’.”

Roy grinned and showed me some photos of him and the men in my family, screwing around the way they always did; he was smiling and laughing the way he did when we were alone. “We had a good time,” he said, sounding even more surprised than I felt. “I’m… actually looking forward to the party tomorrow.” He nodded towards the speaker my music was playing from. “This the kind of stuff they’ll be playing?”

I nodded, suddenly excited. “Oh, definitely. It’s not a party without our queen.” When I saw his puzzled expression, I went on, “This is Selena. She’s one of my heroes.”

“Like Linda Ronstadt?”

His response was so effortless and automatic I nearly flinched. Part of me couldn’t believe he remembered the offhand comment I’d made about my childhood hero; another part of me wasn’t surprised at all that Roy Kent would be so damn thoughtful.

“Yeah,” I breathed, nodding. “Like Linda Ronstadt.” I cleared my throat. “You ever dance cumbia before, Kent?”

“This is cumbia, I assume?” he asked with a smirk. When I nodded, he shook his head. “No, never danced cumbia.”

Without thinking, I held my hand out to him. “You should practice,” I teased with a quirked eyebrow. “Otherwise, you’re going to embarrass me in front of my whole family, and then I’m going to have to fake breakup with you already.”

Roy let out a playful scoff, matched by those familiar rolling eyes. “I know how to fucking dance,” he huffed, taking my hand nonetheless. “We’ve danced plenty of times.”

Now it was my turn to scoff. “That was at clubs. You weren’t dancing, you stood there while I danced on you. You’re welcome for the experience, by the way,” I joked, deflecting from the thoughts I had about dancing so close to Roy. “But for this, you need to actually dance. Move your feet.” I swayed my hips dramatically. “Move your hips.”

Roy’s eyes were glued to my hips in a way that had my face burning. “Hips,” he echoed absently. He gave a little cough. “Like this?” He attempted to swing his hips the way I had but wasn’t quite smooth enough. He rolled his eyes, clearly aware of how awkward he looked. “Alright,” he conceded. “I could use some fucking practice.”

Placing both hands on his hips, I pressed myself a smidge closer to him. “Come on, Kent. You’ve got this.”

He watched my hands, my feet, my hips as we moved to the song, the one I’d been singing and dancing to my whole life. I hummed along, nodding when I saw him begin to relax and feel the rhythm. As his confidence clearly grew, he reached down and took my hands from his hips, holding them in that now familiar warm grip. From there, his eyes never left mine, carrying that intensity that I saw in my dreams every night now. Without warning, he gave me a tentative little spin, causing me to squeal in surprise.

“You’re a fast learner,” I teased as one Selena song gave way to another. “First the piano, now cumbia. Are you trying to come for my job, Kent?”

Roy offered a pleased little chuckle and whirled me in another spin, smoother now. “I must have a good teacher,” he hummed. He brought his free hand to my waist and tugged me close as we continued to dance around the kitchen. “You ever think about how, somewhere out there, some kid is dancing ’round her kitchen to your music, dreaming of being like you?”

For the first time in years, my feet stumbled off-beat. He meant it. Roy meant what he said. Even if I didn’t know him as a genuine person, I could see it in his soft eyes. It felt like a punch to the butterflies in my stomach every time I caught glimpses of that kind, authentic guy, the one I wished I could bring home to see my parents over and over and dance with in my kitchen all the time and kiss in private.

Beep! Beep!

The sound of the oven brought me back to reality, prompting me to take a step back from Roy and drop his hand. “That batch is done,” I blurted out. “I, uh, promised my sister I’d make some cookies for tomorrow, for this giant dessert table she’s doing. So, I’ll be in here all night.”

Roy nodded slowly, taking in my rushed explanation. “Right. You’re really good at baking, right? I remember reading that somewhere.” When all I did was nod, he shrugged. “Lemme go grab a book, I can hang out here while you work. Is that alright?”

My eyes fluttered as I tried not to dwell on the idea of Roy reading about me and remembering the details, the way he’d remembered Linda Ronstadt. “Sure, Roy. If you want to.”

He shrugged, the smallest smile on his lips. “I want to,” he assured me.

Roy came back quickly and settled himself at my kitchen table with one of the million books he’d brought with him. He didn’t say much, but he nodded along to the music and offered me tiny smiles whenever our eyes met. And for the rest of the night, I let myself live in a little fantasy, one where, after a night of baking as he relaxed with a book, we could head to bed together, and I could sleep in his arms instead of down the hall.

~

“Hey, Roy?”

Roy looked up from his book. Those familiar pretty eyes gazed at him from the doorway to the guest room, where he had settled in the night before. She cleared her throat and shifted her weight, something clearly on her mind. Behind her back, he spotted a guitar in her hands, an old, worn one, different from the shiny ones she kept around her London home. Probably from the early days of her career, he pondered as he appreciated the way the morning light caught the smooth surface.

Her smile was soft and timid, reminding him of the time they’d spent together on their holiday; so different from the glittering, shiny popstar he thought he’d be spending time with and, somehow, even more lovely than the glamorous celebrity the rest of the world got to see on red carpets and onstage. She was real like this, in jeans and no makeup and that tiny, infectious grin that made her eyes sparkle.

“You wanna hear that song I was writing on the plane? I finished it.”

He hoped the way he hopped off the bed was enough of a yes for her. He followed her down the stairs and through the house, out the back door and into the garden. She plopped down, gesturing for Roy to sit in the grass beside her. As she took out her phone and began tapping away, Roy couldn’t help but smile at the serious look on her face.

When she looked up and saw that smile, she wrinkled her nose playfully. “Don’t laugh,” she chided lightly. “I know I’m being dramatic, making you come outside and all, but trust me. This song needs to be played out here.”

Immediately, Roy shook his head. “No fucking laughing,” he promised.

As if he could ever laugh at her.

Nodding at Roy’s promise, she positioned her guitar on her lap, balancing her phone on her knee. Roy snapped a quick photo before stuffing his mobile back into his pocket; Keeley had texted him that morning to remind him about posting photos from this little trip. But he didn’t want to focus on Instagram or publicity right now. No, he wanted to hear this song, the one he’d be the very first person to hear.

She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath before she began strumming the guitar, creating a homey melody that nestled itself deep in Roy’s chest. She was right, he realized immediately; this song was meant for the outdoors.

Is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me?

I'm not cut out for all these cynical clones

These hunters with cell phones

Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die

I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry

I'm setting off, but not without my muse

A lump formed in Roy’s throat; her voice was a smidge lower than usual, thick with longing. It was heavy, and so beautiful. He’d heard so much of her music over the last few months, including songs that had truly touched his grouchy heart, but this was different. The song felt so heavy, filled with something he couldn’t place his finger on.

What should be over burrowed under my skin

In heart-stopping waves of hurt

I've come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze

Tell me what are my words worth

Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die

I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry

I'm setting off, but not without my muse

Her eyes alternated between closing and focusing on her phone and gazing out into the garden, lit with the late morning sun. Some part of Roy wanted to take a million photos and videos of this moment, of how beautiful and vulnerable and sunlit she was, pictures that would surely thrill their publicists, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Her song had cast a spell on him, and he was in no rush to break it.

I want auroras and sad prose

I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet

'Cause I haven't moved in years

Her eyes flickered to his, something he hadn’t realized he was craving, holding his gaze steadily as she continued to sing-

And I want you right here

A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground

With no one around to tweet it

While I bathe in cliffside pools

With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief

Roy couldn’t help but crack a smile at the way her mouth ticked up in the corner at the word calamitous. He remembered the night of their first sleepover, playing Scrabble and refusing to believe it was a real word. One of her favorite words, he recalled. One she was dying to put into a song, but it had to be the right song.

This song. A song he got to pretend was about him.

And somewhere, deep inside his chest, in a place he refused to explore, Roy suddenly felt a sharp pang wishing that he wasn’t pretending. Somewhere deep and buried, Roy wished he could stand up with pride and tell everyone around him that this song, this beautiful, poetic, stunning song was about him, Roy Kent. He’d never fucking shut up about it if it was.

Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die

I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry

I'm setting off, but not without my muse

No, not without you

No, not without you

A few strums of the guitar guided Roy back to reality, to a timid smile that was waiting for him to share his thoughts. And this time, unlike the other times, Roy was determined not to fuck this moment up. He licked his lip and shook his head with the softest sigh.

“That,” he murmured, “might be my fucking favorite song, sunshine.”

Her smile widened, glowing with pride as she took in his words. “Mine too, Kent,” she hummed. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I was debating having the whole strings and drums thing, or if-”

“Just the guitar.” Roy was surprised by his own audacity. He shook his head. “Promise me you won’t change a fucking thing. Because that was magical.”

“Just the guitar,” she repeated, her fingers gliding over the smooth wood of the instrument. “Alright, Kent.” She winked at him. “Maybe I’ll have to give you a producer credit or something for your input,” she joked.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I think I’ll stick with just pretending to be your muse.” He smirked, pretending the idea wasn’t gnawing at him.

Instead of laughing along, she cocked her head at him, her eyes filled with racing thoughts. Roy’s heart stuttered, wondering if he’d said the wrong thing, if he’d gone and ruined what he had to admit was one of the most tranquil moments of his normally unruly life. But before she could share whatever thought was going on in that pretty little mind he admired so much, her phone vibrated, nearly falling off her knee. She broke eye contact- and that spell Roy had been under from the first note she played- and glanced down at the lit-up screen.

“My sister,” she grunted, declining the call. She sighed and looked back at Roy, the sparkle gone from her eyes now. “We should head on in and start getting ready,” she announced. Some of the happiness returned to her face as she smirked at him. “You ready for your first quinceañera?”

Roy chuckled and stood, offering her his hand to help her to her feet. “Let’s fucking do it.”

~

Originally, the idea of bringing Roy Kent to my niece’s quince had, to put it plainly, horrified me. Bringing that surly, swearing, grump of a man to such an important family event sounded like a nightmare. Even after discovering the Roy that had become my friend and- fine­- my crush, I was still nervous about introducing him to the most important people in my life, the people who had supported and encouraged me, who sacrificed to make all my dreams come true. Would they like him? I had wondered. And some small, insecure part of me had also wondered- Would he like them?

Every single one of those worries was shattered as I watched Roy interact with my family. He used the short phrases Dani had taught him on my tíos and tías, bringing surprised smiles to the faces of my uncles and aunts who rarely got to meet the men I ran around with. He greeted my brothers with firm handshakes, laughing about the previous day’s outing like they were old friends, as though he was just any old boyfriend of their younger sister and not a soccer legend dating a professional singer. He took selfies with my way too bold cousins and easily sidestepped the flirting of some of their nervier girlfriends, who would then turn around to let me know how much they loved my music and how expensive tickets for my concerts were; the laughter in Roy’s eyes made the irritating interactions worth it.

But, best of all, he treated my nieces and nephews with the same enthusiasm I had seen him have with Phoebe. He listened intently as the boys chattered on about their favorite teams and asked incessant questions about his career and the players he knew; he even managed to talk about Jamie Tartt without swearing. Even more endearing was the way he allowed my three-year-old niece to lead him by the hand to the dessert table and point out all the treats she wanted him to hand to her.

And the black ensemble he wore- which he admitted Keeley and Dani had put together for him- didn’t hurt either, with the top buttons of his shirt undone just so and the pants that fit far too perfectly to be fair.

As I pondered the sight of him taking selfies with my oldest niece and her friends, my sister sidled up, that familiar knowing smile on her face.

“I thought he was supposed to be a grouch,” she teased, nodding towards the smirking coach.

“Believe me, he is,” I chuckled, unable to suppress my grin as I thought about the swears and eyerolls I now thought of as oddly charming. “But he’s also… nice.” I didn’t know what else to say as she raised an eyebrow at me.

Finally, she just wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “That’s good,” she said. “You deserve nice, cariño. Mom and Pop, they’re so tired of seeing the rock stars and the bad boys. They want to see you happy, with someone who cares about you.” She squeezed me close, knocking her hip to mine, the way she did when we were children. “Does Roy care about you?”

It was such a loaded question. Yes, Roy and I were friends now, and he was one of the most protective and supportive people I had in my life, something I felt truly grateful for. But the kisses and affection and the sparkling looks he gave me, they were all for show, for the cameras, for the job. My heart was heavy every time I remembered that all of this, like every relationship I’d had, would end, leaving me once again with nothing but a broken heart and inspiration for sad songs that the internet would both love and mock me for.

But then those brown eyes found mine, and that smirk became a wide grin, and I felt myself melt into my sister’s embrace.

Even if it wasn’t the way I wanted, I knew I could answer her question truthfully-

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Roy really cares about me.”

~

Roy tried to remember the last time he’d had so much fun at a party. He was grateful for his kitchen dance lessons, because he found himself gravitating towards his fake girlfriend, wanting to dance close to her to the music that pulsated through every inch of his body.

She was glittering, magical, as she danced under the party lights, moving her hips even more fluidly than she had in the kitchen the night before. Her hair, her makeup, that fucking dress- everything about her was stunning. Roy marveled at how easily she glided back and forth between looking like home in her jeans and sweatshirts and looking like a goddess in dresses and heels.

Her eyes were bright as she pressed her body close to his, laughing as she sang along to the song he didn’t understand a word of. He probably could have stayed on the dance floor all night, admiring her and doing his best to keep up with her dreamy moves. Roy was something close to disappointed when she tugged his hand and pulled him over to their table, where a few of her family members sat drinking and chattering.

“I’ll be back,” she promised over the music, pressing a kiss to Roy’s cheek.

Roy must have had more shots than he’d counted, he figured. That had to be why he reflexively turned his head to steal a kiss, probably deeper than he should have in front of her brothers, he admitted. But fuck, her lips just felt so soft against his cheek; how was he supposed to resist?

When he pulled back, she blinked at him before offering a tiny smile. “Don’t miss me too much.” With a light touch to his shoulder, she was gone.

“Really?” her oldest brother scoffed, giving Roy a playful shove. “We’re right here, man. You’re going to lose all those points you’ve earned with your shitty Spanish.”

Roy let out a sheepish chuckle. “Sorry,” he apologized, clearly not meaning it.

Her brother shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We just like seeing her happy.” He nodded to the stage, where the DJ was setting up a lone microphone. “Did she tell you what song she’s doing?”

“What song?” Roy repeated incredulously.

“She always sings a little something when we have big parties,” her dad explained from Roy’s other side. “Almost always a Selena song, usually ‘Dreaming of You’. It’s always been one of her favorite songs.” He beamed with that pride only a parent could have. “She sings it beautifully.”

Roy sat up as he watched her climb the stage, that old guitar in hand. “I bet she does,” he murmured, more to himself.

The teenagers on the dance floor shrieked with excitement as she approached the microphone, her bashful expression nothing short of lovely. The birthday girl, in her big poofy dress that Roy couldn’t believe she could walk in, was pushed to the front of the crowd, beaming up at her aunt expectantly; clearly, she had been looking forward to this part of her party.

“So, someone’s been spreading a rumor that I like to sing,” the popstar joked, winking at her niece. “So I’d like to sing a little something for my beautiful niece. Happy birthday, mijita.” She blew a kiss to the birthday girl before strumming her guitar and taking a deep breath, preparing to sing, the way she had in the garden that morning.

Late at night when all the world is sleeping

I stay up and think of you

And I wish on a star

That somewhere you are thinking of me too

Her eyes found Roy’s, immediately softening and sparkling as she continued in that voice wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of.

'Cause I'm dreaming of you tonight

'Til tomorrow

I'll be holding you tight

And there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be

Than here in my room

Dreaming about you and me

Wonder if you ever see me

And I wonder if you know I'm there

If you looked in my eyes

Would you see what's inside?

Would you even care?

I just wanna hold you close

But so far

All I have are dreams of you

So I wait for the day and the courage to say

How much I love you, yes I do

Eyes closed, she leaned back from the microphone and continued strumming on the guitar, the tune shifting into something different, but just as soft and wistful. Out of the corner of his eye, Roy caught flashes of confusion on her family’s faces, their expressions telling him that this wasn’t her usual performance.

When her eyes opened, she winked at her still beaming niece before looking back at Roy, her gaze aflame with something he couldn’t quite name.

I could lose my heart tonight

If you don't turn and walk away

'Cause the way I feel I might

Lose control and let you stay

'Cause I could take you in my arms

And never let go

I could fall in love with you

I could fall in love with you

Her brother leaned close to Roy and murmured, “This is new. Usually she just does ‘Dreaming of You’ and that’s it.” He nudged Roy pointedly. “Three guesses who inspired the change,” he teased.

All Roy could do was chuckle awkwardly and shrug, unable to tear his eyes from the singer as she sang, her voice thick with emotion, as though the song was made for her.

I can only wonder how

Touching you would make me feel

But if I take that chance right now

Tomorrow will you want me still?

So I should keep this to myself

And never let you know

I could fall in love with you

I could fall in love with you

And I know it's not right

And I guess I should try to do what I should do

But I could fall in love, fall in love with you

I could fall in love with you

She played the outro to massive applause, especially from the teenagers on the dance floor. She leaned down from the stage to hug the birthday girl tightly and blow kisses to the young people screaming her name. She practically floated offstage and back to Roy, who stood up so he could wrap her in a hug.

“That was beautiful,” he gushed. “Seriously, you’re fucking amazing.”

“Anything for Roy Kent,” her older sister called out in a mocking voice, sounding like some sort of inside joke Roy didn’t quite get.

The sour face she made at her sister told Roy that yes, there was a joke happening. “Just be glad I’m not charging you for the performance,” she quipped. She turned her attention back to Roy, offering him that beaming smile.

“You ever think of doing an all-acoustic album?” he blurted out without thinking. “Just… that song you played this morning, and then this…” He shook his head. “It’d be fucking amazing. Just you and your guitar. It's fucking magic.”

She studied him for a moment, looking like she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Finally, and reached down and took his hand in hers. “Come on, Kent,” she chuckled. “Let’s get you a drink and you can try to become my new producer.”

~

I giggled as Roy and I stumbled through the front door after waving off my driver. After my Selena mashup, we joined my siblings and cousins in multiple rounds of shots, filling the night with laughter and joyful shouts. Now, at nearly two in the morning, the two of us staggered into my house, Roy’s arm wrapped loosely around my shoulders as he hummed the song that had been playing in the car before we got out.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he sang, his voice gruff and off-key. “The downtown lights.”

Once we managed to make it upstairs, I pulled him into a tight hug. “Thanks for tonight, Kent,” I murmured. “You were the perfect boyfriend.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “For you, sunshine? Anytime.” He gave me a small squeeze before pulling away and taking a backwards step towards his room, down the hall from mine. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I echoed, watching his receding figure before ducking into my own bedroom. Once inside, I kicked off the ridiculously high heels I’d been stupid enough to dance in and removed my jewelry. Impatient to get some pajamas on, I reached for the zipper on my dress so I could take it off and leave it in some corner instead of hanging it up like a civilized popstar would.

Too bad I couldn’t reach the damn zipper.

“Fuck,” I hissed, wondering how the heck I’d managed to get dressed. Right, I reminded myself: I’d changed at my mother’s so I could get ready with my sister and niece. One of them had zipped me up.

Too tired and drunk to feel embarrassed or timid, I yanked my bedroom door open and poked my head into the hallway. The light coming out from under the guest room door told me that Roy was still up.

“Kent!” I whined.

From the other side of the door, I heard a grumbled, “Yeah?”

Pouting for an invisible audience, I shouted back, “Come help me with my zipper.” Without waiting for an answer, I turned back to my room.

I could hear the long sigh from his room, but, sure enough, his door opened. I heard his footsteps approach slowly. When I glanced over my shoulder, Roy was in the doorway, already changed into the plain t-shirt he usually wore to bed. My skin warmed at the sight of his boxers, but I waved him over, pretending to be much more casual than my racing heart felt.

His fingers were warm on my back as he found my zipper, reminding me of when he’d put the Scrabble necklace around my neck; I wondered if he could feel me shiver at his touch and the memory. Slowly, he guided the zipper down, down to where it ended just above the curve of my ass, exposing my bare back.

Roy could have left, right then and there. He could have turned and walked out, grumbled a tipsy goodnight, and returned to his room. That was what I fully expected him to do.

Instead, when I turned my head to thank him for his help, his hand hovered over my shoulder as he stared at me with wide eyes. With a visible gulp, he took the shoulder of my dress between his fingers and tugged it down deliberately, as though waiting for me to tell him to stop, to ask what he was doing, to order him back to his room. Rather than do any of those things, I let him slowly guide the dress down my shoulders until it fell in a puddle at my feet, leaving me in only my panties and bra.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, eyes on my lips. “Really fucking beautiful.”

Before I could think of a single word to say, Roy crashed his mouth into mine, hungry and reckless. I quickly turned my body to face him, to press myself against him and wrap my arms around his shoulders. He groaned into the kiss and slid his hands down to my ass, just like he had that day at the lake. My desperation for him finally winning, I reached down to the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor carelessly. He reattached his mouth to mine seamlessly and began urging me towards my bed.

I tugged him along until we were both horizontal, mouths and hands everywhere, soft groans filling the silent room. Something hard pressed against me deliciously, even harder than that afternoon making out in front of the paparazzi.

My heart soared when I remembered that there was no paparazzi, no audience. This was just me and Roy, in my bed, touching each other because we meant it. I pulled him closer, feeling like finally, finally, I’d done the impossible and caught lightning in a bottle. Maybe, just maybe, I had found that love I’d spent my whole life singing and dreaming about.

Roy’s hands felt like home and his lips tasted like paradise as I began to squirm beneath him, appreciative of the friction he gave me. We could go back to London together, I thought as my hands wandered down those perfect arms, arms I dreamt about each night. Every love song on my tour would be for him. Hell, I could tell him that my new album really was for him. This wouldn’t have to end, my soaring heart thought. We could stay like this, me and my muse-

“Fuck.”

The curse that hissed past the lips I was kissing froze my movements. I pulled back, eying Roy’s flushed face and feeling his ragged breath against my own.

“Something wrong?” I breathed, begging him to say no. Begging him to stay.

Of course, he didn’t say no. He didn’t stay. Instead, he climbed off me and off my bed, shaking his head sadly.

“I’m sorry.”

That was it. Two words. Two little words and he’d sent me back to that place I’d been so many times, that place of loneliness and doubt. Without looking back at me, he walked towards the door, pausing only to pick up his shirt and tug it back over his head. He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving me alone.

The sound of footsteps trudging downstairs finally had me able to move. I tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack, revealing Roy hurrying down. His footsteps made a beeline for my backdoor, which quickly opened and shut.

Part of me wanted to run after him, to demand to know what had just happened and what it meant. To beg him to come back upstairs and try to love me. Please.

But for once, I didn’t. I wanted Roy Kent to choose me, and I wasn’t going to beg. Not this time. This time, I turned off the light and crawled back into bed. The memory of his hands and his lips played over and over again in my head until, finally, I drifted to sleep.

~

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas@eugene-emt-roe@littleesilvia@teenwolf01@sisinever@yagotgames@queen-of-the-downtown-scene@emmaallisonann@mrdsturd@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@charkachow@mrdsturd@littlepinapple@sunfairyy@shadowzena43@uhmidkmuch@imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme@alicedsworld@222333777@thegivenvoid @tortilla-maria1 @treblebeth @maackiimoo

[https-murdock]

Hello hello, I love your writing so so much, I feel like you write Matt’s character so well it literally NEVER feels ooc to me! For your ask night, I saw that you included requests, so I have a fluffy little fic idea if that’s okay.

I’d so so love to see Matt with a woman in STEM (very self indulgent of me lmfao)!!

Like he gets home from Daredeviling one night and he finds her somehow still awake writing a research paper or grading exams because she’s a TA in grad school and he’s just like 🤨 it is past both of our bedtimes why tf aren’t you in bed you gorgeous little genius 🤨

Like just imagine him trying to corral her into bed and in her half-awake state she just starts mumbling about protein synthesis.

And imagine he asks her why she didn’t just go to sleep and she says it was because she was behind on work (but he hears her heart skip and realizes it was just because she wanted to stay awake for him 🥹)

If you can’t or if it doesn’t speak to you then that’s totally totally okay!!!

ahhh thank u that’s so nice 🙏🏻🙏🏻i’m ngl i have no clue what a TA or grad school is 😀 but i shall try my best

i feel like he would just walk in and try be as quiet as he can, like full sneak mode in his suit coming in from outside to try not to wake you, when he sees the bedroom light still on. a little ‘sweetheart? what are you doing up? you need to sleep, it’s late.’ while he unzips and gets into his own pyjamas. ‘m behind on my work, need to do this.’ you’d mumble, super quiet as you begin to realise just how tired you actually are, but we all know he knows you’re awake for him. he’d grab your stuff, move it over to the floor gently and just grab your ankles and pull, you groaning and telling him to leave you be, muttering to yourself about stuff he doesn’t even know while he undresses you and just shoves you under the sheets, climbing in next to you.

he’d be so gentle in the way he’d just cuddle onto sleep, giggling to himself at the nonsense you’re talking because you’re too tired to realise you’re speaking.

[hearts4youz]

The Captains Daughter -Chapter 6-

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer, finally writing some real action!! Expect chapters to be a lot less... boring from here on out. The first couple chapters were slow for the purpose of developing the plot and characters and yada yada yada. But anyways- I hope yall enjoy this chapter!!

Word count: 2k

Reader pov:

You flopped on your bed after dinner. Anticipation for the mission tomorrow morning rendering you unable to sleep. Your eyes flicked to the open duffle bag on the floor, clothes spilling out of it. Sighing you got up from your bed and moved towards the bag, picking up discarded clothes as you did. You opened the plain wooden drawers in your bedroom and placed your clothes in them, organizing them by shirts, pants, socks and whatnot. At the bottom of the bag was the one personal item you were allowed to bring, your photo album. Smiling, you reached down and picked up the binder. It was decorated with pink glitter, paint, and other craft materials. You made it with your friends in middle school, it was almost full now. Inside were pictures in as close to chronological order as you could get. You flipped open the binder, the glossy cover protected each of the pages, gliding past your fingers as you turned each page.

At the beginning of the book was pictures from your first birthday, your parents were still together. Your father's eyes squinted shut from his wide grin, you had cake all over your face and sported a huge smile of your own to match his. Your mother however, smiled less enthusiastically than your dad, a faraway look in your eyes. You frown as you focused on her. You didn't remember her much, one of the only memories you had of her being the night she left.

You were three years old, your father had finished your bedtime routine over an hour ago, but you remained wide awake.

"I can't do this anymore John," you heard your mom yell from the kitchen.

"Emilia. please, for Y/N," "please," you heard your fathers pleas.

"John," your mother said quieter, voice breaking.

"I was never meant to be a mother, I love you, so, so much but.." her voice was breaking as her sentance trailed off.

"You can't just leave me, you can't just leave your daughter because parenting isn't for you." "We're supposed to be in this together"

Your father sounded more upset now

"John I-" "You know how I feel about throwing my life away for a kid,"

"Throwing away your life? can you hear yourself right now?" he raised his voice.

"Yes, I can't even go out anymore cause I have to watch her"

"Y/N is the best thing that has ever happened to us, she is our life now." your dad yelled.

"Maybe she's yours, but she sure as hell will never be mine," your mom screamed.

You didn't understand the severity of the situation. You didn't understand why your dad stomped up the stairs, quiet sniffles leaving his nose.

You didn't understand why your dad hugged you tighter then usual before he dropped you off at preschool the next morning, or why he was always sad and drinking.

You didn't understand why mom wasn't coming home.

You closed the book. You didn't have any emotion at the thought of that night, you hardly knew your mother, never saw her again. Your dad explained it to you once you were old enough, once he was over it. The two of you did just fine alone.

Besides, there's a mission tomorrow, which deserves your focus. No need to reminisce on old memories. You laid down on the subpar mattress, falling asleep shortly after.

The next morning you awoke to your alarm blaring once again. Following your normal routine, you got dressed, splashed your face with cold water, brushed your teeth, and made sure your gear was set for the mission. You made sure your pack had everything you needed as well, forgetting something on your first mission wouldn't be very impressive.

You need to prove yourself, you thought. For your team, especially your father and Ghost. Your dad believed in you, you needed to make sure you lived up to his expectations. The harder task, proving to Ghost that you belonged in the 141.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you took one last look at your room, scanning for something you could have possibly forgot, and left.

The 141 gets to skip breakfast in order to get the mission done, you were grateful you were missing out on rock hard "pancakes," if you could even call them that.

You were told to meet in the bay, where they kept the vehicles. The plan was to take a Humvee to the drop location, hopefully the area would be clear of infadels, and you could be back by mid afternoon.

You took the stairwell down to the bay, which was basically a glorified parking garage, meeting up with Gaz along the way.

"You ready kid?" he grinned, looking intimidating in full gear. You on the other hand, looked like a kid in grown-ups clothes. Your boots were a size too large, tripping you up occasionally. Your tactical vest hung loose off your stomach. You really did look like a kid compared to the burly men in your squad.

"Ready as i'll ever be," you cringed at the corny reply you let slip out of your mouth. Gaz chuckled.

Gaz briefed you on what to expect as you descended the stairs, missions like these were routine, easy. He had told you.

You felt butterflies in your stomach, slight nervousness setting in as you entered the bay, which Gaz assured you was normal.

You reached the spot where the vehicle was parked, Ghost was already there, having a smoke. He nodded towards the two of you as you neared. You muttered a hello as he offered Gaz a cigarette. He held the packet out to you, offering you one.

"No thanks, I don't smoke," you stated.

Ghost scoffed, "You will eventually."

You furrowed your brows, wondering what he meant.

The three of you stood in silence waiting for the rest of the group. Price was next to arrive, then Soap and Alejandro. Once you were gathered, Your father went over the mission once more, then climbed into the drivers seat. Ghost entered the passenger side, Gaz and soap jumped into the middle row, leaving you and Alejandro with the very back seats.

The drive was mostly silent, until about halfway through when your dad kicked on the radio. It was set to some country station, your father hummed the tune, a few of the men nodded along to the song. After around three hours the vehicle slowed, merging onto a dirt road, after a few miles you came upon a small town, few people milled around the streets. Startled when they saw the armored military vehicle turning up the dusty path.

You came upon a run down building at the edge of the town, you were exposed to anything. If enemies were here, they surely saw you rolling into town. You didn't move a muscle when the car stopped, awaiting orders.

The fear really set in now, the severity of what could happen if there were in fact enemies hiding out in this building.

Your monologue was cut short by the sound of Soap slamming his door shut. You jumped up, startled.

"Relax," Alejandro chuckled.

You sighed, relieved that it wasn't gunshots.

The six of you piled out of the car, grouping up in front of the building. You all stared at Price, waiting for his input.

"Let's get in and get out, If anyone is inside they surely know we have arrived. I would have preferred a stealthier entrance, but I was given close to no information about the area to go off of." He said, any trace of your soft, caring father gone. Replaced by the stone faced military man he reserved for work.

You took in your surroundings, the building was old and weathered. Part of the roof was caved in, moss crawled across the damaged siding. Cracked windows decorated the outside, allowing for a look into the unfurnished building.

The group carried out protocol wordlessly, peering into windows to check for danger, planning entrance and exit routes, and assessing the situation. Everyone seemed to have a job, you were lost in the middle of it. Your father was too focused on the task at hand to help you.

Ghost noticed your slight distress and beckoned you over. He was crouched by a ground level window, pointing at something inside. You stood directly in front of the window, trying to make out what Ghost was pointing at, when you were taken to the ground by a large mass.

The wind was knocked out of you as you looked up at Ghost who was now on top of you.

"Stupid, Rookie mistake." he uttered.

"Is there anything inside that lump three feet above your fucking ass?" He spat.

"My what?" your voice trembled.

"Your head you twat."

"He probably saw you, you fucking imbecile," his words bit into your heart, tugging on the strings.

"He?" you gasped.

"Yes, you twat. There's a soldier in there with our supplies," he said, getting off of you, pushing his boot into your stomach after he stood, for good measure. As if you weren't humiliated enough, there was now a dusty footprint across your body.

Gathering yourself, you stood. Crouching behind the Lieutenant as he steadied his gun, taking aim at the man through the broken glass. A moment later you heard the crack of gunfire and the thump of a body hitting the ground. Ghost had hit his target and moved away from the window, flattening himself and you against the siding before anyone inside could return fire.

Your radio crackled as Ghost briefed the others on the events. Price gave instructions in return.

"Stay close," Ghost murmured in your ear, grasping your arm and leading you around the back of the building. With your free hand, you unholstered your own gun.

You followed Ghost as he rounded the corner. You heard the shouts in the distance as the fighting ensued.

Your radios crackled, "Entering the premises," said Gaz.

Ghost responded, "We're around the back, entering on that side."

Another voice chimed in, "Y/N how copy?"- your dad.

"With Ghost,"

"Copy" The back door was slightly ajar, Ghost kicked it open then stepped to the side for cover, nothing happened and he stepped inside.

The room you entered smelled of mildew and soot. It clearly hasn't been used for its original purpose in years. Pieces of drywall lay on the ground, pieces of broken glass mixed into the mess. Old, torn, and stained furniture was scattered throughout.

You scanned the seemingly empty area. Ghost did the same. Concluding that the coast was clear, the two of you walked further into the building. You suddenly heard the sounds of a skirmish above you. Grunting and banging, sounds of someone hitting the floor.

Gunshots

You and Ghost exchanged a glance before frantically searching for a way upstairs, hoping that the slain wasn't one of your teammates.

Ghost pressed a button on his radio. Once the two of you were officially lost. "Anyone caught in the fight upstairs?"

"Negative," multiple voices said.

Price took over the comms to give more orders.

"We've taken out about five so far. An unknown number remain. Stay cautious. Our supplies are supposed to be at the top floor. Lets meet up there. Once we have as much as we can carry we leave. If you meet an... infidel, you have permission to kill."

"Copy"

To be continued...

Taglist: @abbiesxox

[p0orbaby]

Can you make a little one shot of that night? When he shows up looking for squish? And maybe y/n being awake and being confused because she doesn’t even remember him?

Dad?

a/n: a full version of this. I also hate the ending so there’s that

warnings: a man, a shit one at that, mentions of family abandonment? arguing, shouting, aggressiveness, a scared child :(

word count: 1.2k

-

No one normally rang the doorbell this late.

The setting sun had bruised the sky pink and purple. All was quiet bar the soft voice of Wanda coming from your room as she read you a bedtime story.

Meanwhile Natasha was finishing up washing the dishes from dinner when the chime sounded unexpectedly through the house.

She frowned slightly as she dried her hands on a dish towel, wondering who could be calling by. And why they thought it would be appropriate to do it at this time of day.

There was no real reason for her to be worried about who the late night visitor might be. Only authorized personnel were allowed up to the level their apartment was on. Tony’s orders for living away from the compound. So she didn’t bat an eyelid about opening the door. Well, that was until she didn’t recognise who was on the other side. A rarity even for her.

“Can I help you?” She asks, closing the door slightly while she assesses the person in front of her. Her eyes raking up and down his figure, trying to mentally calculate the man’s intentions.

“Where’s Wanda?” The man says back. Gruff, irritated and obviously void of basic manners.

“I’m sorry but, who’re you?”

Then, as if on queue, the gentle padding of Wanda’s feet was heard from behind Natasha. “Babe, who is it?” She asks curiously, coming up to place a hand on the small of her back, trying and failing to look past Natasha at the person on the other side of the door

“Someone asking for you, I don't-“ Natasha responds, not turning to face Wanda. Her instincts telling her this man wasn’t to be trusted and he eyes on him at all times.

“Wanda!” The man bellows, slamming his hand against the enforced metal of the door, stopping it from being shut in his face. “You can’t keep her from me forever”

Against her back, Natasha felt Wanda stiffen. A few educated guesses and it didn’t take long for her to figure out who was shouting at her girlfriend from the hallway.

“Hey!” Natasha hissed aggressively. Her walls immediately rising, along with her heart rate as she clenched her fists at her side instinctively. “You’re not welcome here, so you better leave. Now”

He just stared back at her, eyes wild as if he was stunned that she even had the guts to speak to him that way.

“Nat, I’ve got this”

Wanda’s voice was quiet. Exhausted. Natasha knew from small snippets of information Wanda had told her that this fight is something that may never have an end.

Natasha turned to face Wanda, giving her a small nod with pinched brows of concern. Shifting far enough away she gave her girlfriend space, but close enough she could intervene if she had to.

Wanda took a shaky breath and stepped just past the threshold of the apartment.

-

“You can’t just turn up here” Wanda instructs, quiet and frustrated.

“She’s my kid too, Wanda. Where is she? I want to see her”

“She’s asleep” Wanda’s replies, her voice tinged with anger and hurt. “You can’t just show up whenever you feel like it. Especially after everything you’ve done”

“I have a right to see my child” he retorts, his tone defensive. He has his hackles raised. “You can’t keep her away from me forever”

“I never wanted to keep her from you!” Wanda tries, but fails to keep her composure. “But you left us! You disappeared. If you didn’t care about her then, what makes you think I’ll believe a word that comes out of your mouth now?”

The man's face contours with frustration. “I had my reasons, Wanda. You don’t understand what i've had to go through”

“I’m not arguing with you about this again. You knew what I did, who I was before you decided to get me pregnant” she argues.

The words hung in the air, charged with years of unresolved emotions. Wanda's hands trembled slightly at her asides as she struggled to contain the flood of memories and hurt that had now been resurfaced.

But the man's anger seemed to eclipse reason. He paced in front of the door, his frustration palpable. Spreading itself like a fungus into the cracks of her being. "You don't know what it's been like for me," he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. “To have a kid I’m not allowed to see!”

Wanda's voice wavered, her eyes lighting with fire. "And you don't know what it's been like for us. For me!" she shot back, her tone harsh and very unlike Wanda it made Natasha concerned. “I let you know where we lived. Where we went, every time we left the country, I told you. But you threw it all back in my face when you never showed up. So don’t you dare say I kept you away”

Unbeknownst to the adults, in the midst of this emotional whirlwind, you were perched behind a wall, hidden slightly from the entrance of the house, your small body barely noticeable. Confusion knitted your brow, the heated exchange both frightening and intriguing to your young ears. You didn’t recognise all the voices. But that wasn’t the problem. You were scared that you could hear your mom shouting.

“Mommy?” You said, quiet. Concerned. But loud enough to get everyone’s attention.

Heads turned towards you. Natasha glanced in your direction, her keen eyes locking onto your own. Then a voice pulled her gaze away from you.

“Y/N” it said, loud and unfamiliar. Like a barking dog in a park or the honk of a horn in the street. “Hey baby, it’s daddy!”

The man’s words resonated within you, and a mixture of emotions swirled through the air around you. Confusion warred with a flicker of excitement, and you stepped out from your hiding place, your heart beating with both curiosity and fear.

“Mom” you repeated, your gaze fixed on the man before you. His frame blocked slightly by the legs of your parents. Even so, he crouched down to reach your eye level, offering a smile that held a hint of desperation. It scared you. Looking into the unfamiliar eyes of a stranger.

He called out to you again, but you didn’t move. Hiding your face behind the stuffed animal clutched in your hands. The man growled with impatience, standing to his full height again. His frustration showed no signs of abating. His gaze then shifted to Wanda again. “You’ve turned my kid against me” he cried. “You’ve been spouting lies to make my own child hate me!”

Natasha’s protective instincts kicked in again. She stepped forward, positioning herself between Wanda and the man, giving her girlfriend the chance to comfort you and remove you from the firing line. Her voice was firm, her eyes unwavering when she instructed him to go. “You’ve said your piece. You need to leave now”

The man’s annoyance escalated, his anger radiating like a storm. He took a step forward, and Natasha straightened further. Though she was small, she was mighty, and the man retreated slightly at her rage

“I said, you need to leave,” she repeated. Words hard and direct as she clenched her jaw to steady her emotions.

It looked as though he was going to say something, but he didn’t. After a long beat of silence he turned and punched a hole into the drywall of the complex corridor. Cursed at the pain. Then stormed towards the stairwell at the other end of the hallway.

[jrow]

May Prompt (22)

Day 21 here. Start from the beginning here. Day 23 here.

Night

The night has always been his saviour.

No matter how bad things are, he’s always known he’ll survive if he makes it to the night.

As a child, the night provided refuge from the people he didn’t understand and expectations he could never meet.

By university he knew the language of the masses, but also knew they would never understand his. The nights alone—away from the judgment and ridicule of his peers—were the main reason he survived.

As an adult, nights are where he’s done his best thinking, the dark and quiet acting as a catalyst for creative thinking and snowballing of ideas. Most people lose their grasp of reality at night, with anxiety and self doubt taking over. It’s the opposite for him—the answers, the truth, often become clear when the rest of the world is asleep.

When he was on the run, the nights kept him sane. It was only under dark skies that he allowed himself to think of home. To think of John. To imagine fairytales of what might await his return. He always knew they were just fantasies, but they kept him going.

These past few days, night has served as his North Star, his goal. God, he loves Rosie, but …. well, after dealing with the chaos that is a toddler, it’s nice to love her when she’s quieting and sleeping like an angel.

This evening has been … a challenge. There is a ten step process for bedtime. Each step is absolutely essential—as he learned the hard way that time he tried to skip step six, walking the dirty clothes the hamper. Tonight, Rosie fought every step of the routine and it took nearly an hour and a half.

He understands why. It was a day of “big feelings” for the both of them. The three of them, actually. Because John is home.

John was discharged in the late afternoon and Rosie had been a ball of excited nervous energy since then. Lots of jumping. Lots of falling. Lots of smiles. Lots of tears. Lots of everything.

Lots.

He had insisted on doing bedtime. It was better for him everyone. Rosie has gotten used to him over the past few days and John is still … well … fragile in a way. John had put up a cursory argument but was tired himself and quickly acquiesced.

And now, Rosie is asleep and she is safe. When she wakes, she will be precocious and funny and perfect. That he has had some hand in that may be his greatest achievement.

He closes the door to her room and makes his way to John’s. Now that Rosie is sleeping—now that it is night—he has time to work on the case.

It’s funny in a way how things change. If something like this had happened when he first met John, he would have left him alone in the hospital and been off working on the case immediately. Wouldn’t even have heard about the assassination attempt. If this had happened after knowing John for a year, he would have kidnapped John from the hospital so they could work on the case together, health consequences be damned. If this had happened around the time John got married, he would have spent every second focused on finding the man who attempted to murder John. Then he would have killed him. Then he would have solved the case. Then he would have visited John.

But now … well, solving the case is important but it’s hardly the priority. At least not during the day when the world is awake. But now it’s night.

John should be going to sleep—the man is clearly exhausted. But the fool wants to help. So they struck a deal. They would work together in John’s room, with John lying in bed. He is sure John will fall asleep in no time.

“I thought I’d start going through the pile of new surveillance footage,” John says through a yawn.

Yes, John will be asleep in within 5 minutes.

“Good idea, I’ll go through the case files. Something connects these stores, I just need to find out what,” he says, plopping down in the chair at the foot of the bed.

He had thought the thefts were random—crimes of opportunity—but now he sees everything was planned to a t. Which means the stores, and the order they were targeted, were picked for a reason.

Ten minutes later, John drops the tablet he’s been watching before startling awake.

“Go to bed, John,” he says quietly, picking up the tablet and gently moving it to the side table.

“Mmmkay,” says John, laying his head on his pillow before mumbling, “big plans tomorrow.”

“What’s that?” he asks quietly, not expecting an answer.

But he gets one, mumbled as it is. “We should go for cake. Three of us. Is the weekend. Cake then gift.”

He freezes. The gift. He’d almost forgotten. It seems like so long ago. It seems like it just happened.

“We don’t need to…” he starts, but stops as he sees John is asleep.

God damn it, Mycroft is right. He hates when Mycroft is right. He needs to tell John the truth about the chase. About John’s fall. He needs a do over or whatever the hell the term is. If he tells John, then maybe he can open that damn gift without his guilt eating him alive.

He picks up the tablet to move it to the sitting room. The screen wakes up, revealing the final image John was looking at. A young couple at the counter in New Cavendish, looking at rings, presumably. A uniformed constable is leaving.

His eyes go wide and he drops the tablet, diving to get the case notes he was just reading. Yes, there it is. The owner of Cox and Power explaining the store had been visited by a friendly unnamed constable the day the store was robbed.

He drops to the floor and crosses his legs, arranging all the notes so they are laid out in front of him. The sound of John snoring softly acting as his soundtrack.

It’s time to work.

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