#love lost and found again across the ages | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slu7formen · 1 month

Note

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her likes this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

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puckinghischier · 1 month

Text

Nervous

Jack Hughes x fem!reader, smitten!Jack

summary: request for jack and reader on their wedding day

notes: this is my first time writing anything for jack and i literally had so much fun with it. i hope you guys like it 😌

[2.6k]

Jack had never been this nervous before. Not during nationals games, not on his draft day, not on the night of his rookie debut, and not in any circumstance that he can remember. Ever. He’s not usually the type to dwell on feelings of nerves, trusting his skill and his ability to focus on the task at hand to get the job done.

Today, though, is the most nerve-wracking day of his life. It’s his wedding day, for crying out loud. The day he gets to marry the girl that has been there for every major event of his life. The girl that has never missed a Devils home game. The girl that he’s pretty sure his family loves more than him. The girl that has stuck by him through every hardship and crazy hockey season so far. His girl. The girl he gets to make his wife.

Hell, he wasn’t even this nervous when he asked you to marry him. He recalls the day as if it happened mere hours ago, not a year and a half earlier.

“Jack, where are we going? I thought you said you had an event with the team tonight? You’re going to be late,” you ask, noticing you’re driving further and further away from the city.

You had been doing laundry, trying to get ahead on some chores you had been neglecting, when Jack had come into the living room and told you to put your shoes on, he wanted to take you somewhere. You had asked him where, and if you needed to change, but he simply shook his head no and told you it was a surprise. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Jack. You just assumed he found a new ice cream place he thought you would love, or some quaint little coffee shop he knew you’d like.

You didn’t think anything of it until you found yourself watching the city disappear into the distance almost forty-five minutes later, no destination in sight.

“We’re almost there, darling. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours,” is all he said, taking his eyes off the road for only a moment to flash one of his soft smiles in your direction before continuing to drive.

You sit in the comfortable silence, a slow country ballad playing softly on the radio. Jack’s hand resting on your thigh adding a much-needed warmth to your body, not having grabbed a jacket before he dragged you out of your shared apartment. You watch the road around you become surrounded by trees, admiring the greenery that seems so hard to come by in the city.

Before you realize it, too lost in your own thoughts, Jack is turning off of the paved road you were traveling onto a dirt road, clouds of dust billowing behind the car. You lean forward a bit, trying to take in the scenery to find any sort of clue as to where you were. You’re just about to ask where he’s taking you, yet again, when you see the most beautiful scene appear through the windshield.

At the end of the road stood a large red barn, aged in all the right ways. The red was slightly faded, showcasing the years of sun damage and there were pieces of the shingled roof missing, lost in the wind who knows how long ago. Off to the left of the barn was a large area surrounded by a wooden fence, a few horses grazing on the bright green grass. The sun was just beginning to set, causing one side of the barn to be coated in golden sunlight, the other side blanketed in a shadow. As Jack turned the car to enter the field where the barn sat, you noticed the obscene number of lights strung high into the trees covered by the shadow of the barn, giving the effect that little drops of sunlight were dripping from the limbs.

“Jack…what- where are we?” You ask him, disbelief lacing your tone.

“Just a little place I stumbled across with Luke one day. We were out for a drive, just wanting out of the city for a few hours. Found this place and instantly thought of you. Knew I had to bring you here,” he reveals, parking the car and turning off the engine.

Jack opens his door to get out of the car and quickly moves to open yours, taking your hand while leading the two of you over to the forest of lights. You’re so busy looking up at the sight in the trees that you miss the large, wooden arch set up in the middle of the two biggest trees in the mini forest. There were a few hay-bales on each side of the arch, large bouquets of white daisies placed all over the bales, with some even bunched around the top corners of the square arch.

Once you take in the scene in front of you, you turn your head to look at Jack, finding his eyes already on you.

“Jack, you have about three seconds to tell me what’s going on here,” you calmly tell him, even though your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults.

“I told you, I wanted to show this place to you. Thought you’d like it.” His lips curled into an amused smile once he noticed the glare on your face, knowing you were calling his bluff.

“I wanted to show you this place, because I knew you’d like it. Because I know you. How lucky I am to know you,” he begins, slowly moving you forward until you’re standing directly in front of the arch.

“How lucky I am that I’m the person you chose to trust with your heart. How lucky I am to be able to come home to you after a hard day. How lucky I am to be the recipient of your kindness and your love. How lucky I am to bask in your happiness and your spirit day after day. How lucky I am that you put up with the crazy world I live in, and do it without complaint.”

Your hands were starting to shake at this point, eyes watering.

“What I did to deserve all of this, I’ll never know. But I know I’ll never take it for granted. I’ll never take you for granted. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend every day of the rest of our lives telling you how thankful I am to whatever celestial being lead me to you,” Jack pauses, dropping to his knee and fishing around in his pocket for the velvet box he’s had hidden in a pair of old skates in the closet for months.

“You are pure sunshine, shining light on every single person you meet. Y/N Y/L/N, please, let me live the rest of my life sunburnt. Marry Me.”

That was the easy part. Asking you to marry him was the quickest and easiest decision Jack had ever made in his life. He hadn’t thought twice when he called Luke on a random Thursday afternoon, telling him he needed to help him run some “errands”, driving to the nearest jeweler as soon as Luke sat in his passengers seat. Didn’t even hesitate when he called your best friend, asking if you had ever talked about what your favorite diamond cut was. Not a nerve in sight when he flew out to meet your parents to ask for their blessing two months before proposing, claiming he was just making a quick trip to visit some friends.

So why? Why was he so nervous today? He’s been looking at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes now, worried that his bow tie is crooked, or that his hair looks too messy. He didn’t know why he was so focused on his appearance. You’ve seen him at his worst. You’ve been there to take care of him after far too many drinks on a night out celebrating a win, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, head buried in the closest toilet. You’ve seen him after a brutal game, face red from exertion and weird imprints all over his body from his gear. You’ve seen him when he broke down after his first loss during his rookie year, putting all the blame on himself, holding him in your arms as he sobbed in your kitchen.

He knew you didn’t care if a few hairs were out of place, or if his tie was a centimeter too far to the left. But he did. He cared, because this was the most important day of his life, and you deserved for him to look his best. You deserved for him to make sure everything was perfect.

Jack is pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door, Luke and Quinn making their way into the room.

“Ready, Rowdy?” Quinn asks, going to stand behind Jack in the mirror.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jack responds, turning to look at his two brothers, forcing a smile that’s supposed hide all of his nervous emotions.

“Are you sure? Why do you look like you’re about to vomit, then?”

“I don’t? Do I? Oh god, what if she thinks there’s something wrong when she sees me? How do I make myself look like I’m not gonna hurl all over her dress. Luke, do I really look like I’m gonna blow chunks?” Jack frantically asks, looking between the two brothers, turning back around to look at himself in the mirror once again.

“Jack, breathe, man. You look fine. Luke was just being Luke. He doesn’t look like he’s going to vomit, right, Luke?” Quinn attempts to calm Jack, glaring at Luke.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean it. Sorry, Jack. You look fine. She’s probably gonna want to jump your bones or some shit. You look great.” Luke blurts, trying to not only escape the wrath of his eldest brother, but to keep Jack from actually vomiting.

“Okay, not what I meant but whatever works, I guess.” Quinn sighs, placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders to turn him back around.

“Listen, everything’s going to be fine. We just went to see Y/N, she’s nervous just like you are. I don’t know why, you’re both so painfully obvious with how much you love each other. There’s nothing for you to worry about. She loves you, man. More than I’ve seen someone love another person. As long as you’re standing there waiting on her at the end of the aisle, you could be covered in dog shit for all she cares. She just wants to see you. She just wants to marry you.”

Jack stares at his older brother, letting the words sink in. His thoughts drift to you, only three doors down, standing in your dress looking into the mirror just like he is, freaking out over things that don’t truly matter to him. He thinks about how you could walk down the aisle, hair un-brushed, pajamas still on, slippers on your feet and he would still be ecstatic to see you.

“You’re right, Q. Of course you’re right. I knew I chose you to be my best man for a reason,” Jack chuckles, feeling his nerves settle a bit.

“I know I’m right. I know you. And I know Y/N. As long as the two of you leave here today with the same last name, everything else could go wrong and you would still be the happiest couple I know,” Quinn removes his hands from Jack’s shoulders.

“But, nothing is going to go wrong, because Mom has been out there running around like a madwoman to make sure everything is in place. The only thing left is to make sure you get to the altar. Which is what we were sent here to do,” Luke chimes in, trying to assure his brother one last time.

“Alright. Yeah. I guess it’s time, huh?”

“It’s time, Rowdy. And it’s been a long time coming.” Quinn pats Jack on the back, the three brothers making their way towards the door that was left open.

Jack smiles at his brother’s statement, knowing you’re just as much a part of his brother’s lives as you are his. You watch every single one of Quinn’s hockey games (as long as he’s not playing at the same time as Jack and Luke) and scream loud enough for the neighbors to complain. You were there at Jack’s side for Luke’s draft day, just as proud, if not more, of the youngest Hughes. You always invite Luke over for a post-game dinner, knowing how tired he is after games and wanting to make sure he gets a meal before he goes home and claims he’s too tired to eat. He knows you hold a special place in his mom’s heart, too. Her claim that you’re the daughter she never had proving to be true through this whole process, knowing she’s been involved in every step of this wedding right along side your mom and yourself.

Before Jack knows it, the ceremony is beginning and he’s being given the signal to make his way to the altar, standing next to his groomsmen as he waits for you to walk through those doors.

As he looks out over the crowd, he finds himself growing nervous once again. Did he put on enough cologne? Did he bring the right kind? What if he wasn’t wearing the one you told him was your favorite? Did he brush his teeth? What if he kisses you for the first time as your husband and his breath tastes like the burger he had for lunch? Oh god, what if you don’t want to kiss him because he has burger breath?

Quinn can sense the nervous energy radiating off of his brother once again. He places his hand on Jack’s back, giving him a few pats to let him know he’s right there next to him. That everything’s going to be okay.

Jack looks over at his brother only briefly before he hears the unmistakable tune of “In Case You Didn’t Know” by Brett Young start playing through the speakers. It’s Jack’s song for you. He plays it all the time when you’re in the car together, not even trying to be subtle. He loves to send it to you when he’s on the road, letting you know he’s thinking about you. There was absolutely no question in your mind as to what song you were going to choose when your mom asked what you wanted to walk down the aisle to.

He snaps his attention to the double doors that open at the other end of the large room. His stomach is in knots, really hoping he doesn’t actually look like he’s about to puke, because he sure feels like it right now.

As he watches the first flash of white make an appearance in the doorway, he knows he’s a goner.

You step into his full view, hand wrapped around your father’s arm, looking around at the various guests for only a split second before your eyes meet his. Jack swears, all time stops in that second. He can barely see through the tears that well in his eyes, completely in awe of you. You match his gaze, forcing yourself to keep the tears from dropping, not wanting to have mascara streaks running down your face before you even get to the altar.

The two of you simply stare at one another for what seems like an eternity. An unspoken declaration of love passed between one another in a simple glance. Your father having to tug on your arm slightly, forcing you to step forward, too lost in Jack for you to remember where you were and what was currently taking place.

As you start to walk down the aisle, every step bringing you towards Jack, towards the rest of your life with him, the feeling of calmness washes over his body. You’re here. You’re his. And you’re everything he has ever wanted and more. It’s in this moment, watching the rest of his life walk towards him, smile on her face, a single tear slipping down her cheek, Jack Hughes has never been less nervous in his life.

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tteokdoroki · 2 years

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✉️; SWEATER SEASON. - T.KAGEYAMA.

💌; synopsis - your boyfriend finds you wearing a piece of old high school memorabilia, his number nine kurasuno jersey, and it drives him absolutely insane.

↳ length: 2.07K

↳ warnings: smut, mdni 18+, fem!reader, characters aged up to 20s, post-time skip!au, unprotected sex, clothed sex, pussy jobs, soft/mean!kageyama, praise!kink, reader is wearing kageyama’s clothes.

↳ notes: a very self indulgent piece because i finished hq s4 and cant stop thinking about kageyama ?? it’s giving obsessed with him i think <3! not beta’d ! enjoy my loves hehe - m.list ♡

“are you gonna tell me where you found it? or do i have to fuck it out of you, baby?” kageyama’s voice is tender as he asks, speaking to you like you’re a timid creature or somewhat of a street cat that might scurry away from him at any given moment. but the way he treats you is mean, his hands that are both large enough to cover the globes of your ass grip at your soft flesh— easily pull you back and forth, back and forth on his cock while you’re seated in his lap, your dainty fingertips just peeking out of the sleeves on his cold kurasuno jersey, gripping into his shoulder blades to somewhat ground yourself. “‘m talkin’ to you sweetheart,”

you know that he is, god, you know.

but words are hard to come by when you’re seated on your boyfriend’s cock, letting him bounce you up and down mercilessly until you can practically feel him in your throat. you know kageyama’s talking to you, his pretty girl, angel dressed in nostalgic shades of burnt orange and obsidian black— he loves how you can’t respond, blubbering and babbling incoherent sentences while you hide your swollen lips under the collar of his sweatshirt and drip so sweetly down his shaft from your heavenly little hole.

“uh—oh, mhm…mhm!” is all you can manage, swallowed by fabric that smells like your olympic athlete boyfriend, drowning in the strong waves of lust as he pounds up into your pretty puffy pussy until there are tears in your eyes.

tobio let’s a hand leave your ass to tap at your baby fat cheeks, his dark blue eyes lit up with hunger as he mocks your pout. “words please baby, i know you know them.” it’s almost a joke to him, how weak and needy you get as soon as his milky top pushes past your selfish entrance, and brushes up against your velvety inner walls. he reads it in your eyes, how much you crave him and feels it in your cunt when you spasm and clench down on him, your juices rolling down his lengthy shaft and coating his balls.

he taps your cheek again, and you whimper like a lost little lamb— the traces of a smile spreading across kageyama’s lips. “f-found it in the, fuck, the back of the closet… h’i missed you.” you cry out, gently circling your hips down on your boyfriend’s, droplets in the form of angel tears clumping in your lashes. kageyama’s smile widens, the hand in your cheek wrapping around the back of your neck, tilting your head up to kiss him.

you let the fabric of the kurasuno jersey fall down to your chin, head angled perfectly to meet his lips and let your tongue slide wetly over the seam— begging your boyfriend to let you in. and he does, he lets you take charge of the searing and sloppy, spit slicked kiss. he lets you lick into his mouth and squeak against his tongue while he dominates the rest of your body buried beneath his old clothes. tobio feels you lean into him, free falling into his love and his desire while his hands slip under the sweatshirt to draw circles into your tummy, tease you by thumbing just under the swell of your breasts where they meet your rib cage before tweaking your nipples with tender love and care.

his cock aches inside you, just knowing that all your beauty, your curves, your pebbled nipples and the marks you have are hidden— no, protected from the hungry gaze of others by his old uniform. it drives kageyama insane, activates animalistic instincts in the back of his brain as he forces his cock as deep as it can go, rubbing his tip against your gummy walls and marking your insides with opaque wads of his messy precum until you’re squelching every time he ploughs into you.

you probably have no idea how fucking good you look right now, like a five course meal served up to the volleyball player on a silver platter. his baby, tobio kageyama’s innocent little baby had no idea of what she was getting herself into when you put on that number 9 kurasuno jersey. no idea that you would be fucked within an inch of your life, perfect pussy stretched over his painfully hot dick— his forked veins brushing up against pleasure spits only kageyama could reach. “h’baby, you could have just, fuck…” the athlete curses, having been pounding into you so hard that his cock slips out of your eager hole, sliding right up against your clit which shines, soaked underneath the you yellow lighting in your bedroom. kageyama shivers when your tiny hand, peeking out from sweater paws to jerk him off. you thumb at his blistering red and seedy tip, you even drool over it too— right before guiding him back inside of your fluttering fat pussy. “there we go…you shoulda called me,”

“y-you were at practice! oh fuck—tobi!” you whine, bristling with desire when kageyama wastes no time fucking your cunt into the shape of him. the bed creeks under the weight of his thrusts up into you, balls slapping heavy against your ass only serving to fill the room with their sensual song. you feel like you might cry, that’s how deep in your guts kageyama is, ruining your body for anyone else, claiming you as the mixture of your arousals froths and gathers at the swelling base of his shaft. whatever your precious cunt drools, quickly gets fucked back into your gushing insides and painted against your spongey g-spot the more your boyfriend throws his hips up to fuck you.

tobio grabs at your hips, holding you up so the only thing you can hump is his mushroomed cockhead, bright red and burning for you. he just wants to see, even though you whine for him put it back in, he just wants to see how raw and swollen your folds are from underneath his clothes— wants to know how much he turns you on. “you think i wouldn’t have left practice to come make my baby feel good?” he asks, pressing his face into your neck and tilting his head up to lick the tears that stream down your face. “volleyball ain’t got shit on this fuckin’ pussy,” he breathes against your skin,

filling you up all over again with one sharp thrust until he’s buried into you right up to the hilt.

and it’s true, not even the satisfaction of smacking a ball straight into the opposite court, not even lining up the perfect set or the smell of rubber sneakers burning against the floor during a tournament could compare to the sweet bliss of your warm, tight cunt wrapped around kageyama’s dick. you’re his favourite thing dressed in the jersey of his first love, humping away at his lap like a bitch in heat.

and kageyama thinks would be the best place in the world to die if it were to happen right now.

“‘m close tobi, i’m gonna cum,” you heave into his ear like it’s a promise, arms looped around his neck where the softness of his jersey rubs against his sweaty skin. “fuck you’re gonna make me cum, o-oh. oh!” your head tilts back when his fingers meet your puffy clit, writing his signature against it while you drool from your mouth and your slit. “tobio.” there’s a warning lilt to the edge of your tone, telling your boyfriend that you can’t hold back and there’s a new feverishness to the way you roll your hips back down to meet his.

so he pushes you onto your back, covering you with his slender body, his lips on yours while your ankles lock at his waist. the angle of kageyama’s hips shift, bullying his tip against your g-spot over and over, smearing precum along your velvety walls and bullying his way into you until you can see stars. he knows the way he fucks you is just right, he can tell by the way your lips form a gentle ‘o’ and the way your nails ( that he paid for ) dig into his toned shoulders and form crescent moons.

“oh right there?” kageyama coos, lips messily finding yours while he pins your waist down to the sex soaked sheets bellow. your face changes, shining with sweat but so blissed out it makes your boyfriend’s hips stutter, losing the rough tempo they set. “ah, here…that feel good baby? yeah? oh fuck i know it’s good.” his words are breathy and shoot straight to your core, making your hole flutter around him— sucking his pulsing cock in selfishly. with his free hand, tobio roughly pushes up his kurasuno jersey that pools over your body right up to your tits— stormy blue eyes laser focused on the way they bounce under the weight of his thrusts.

kageyama is way taller than he was back in high school, but the length of the fabric still has you swimming in it— the volleyball player bunches it up, smiling down at you and uses the material to tug you back onto his dick, barely letting you off it as your clit grinds up against his washboard abs. “oh baby don’t cry, you’ll get to cum. i know you wanna fucking cum. can you do that?” he asks you, and again your words escape you as you’re left a teary eyed mess underneath the dark haired man. “yeahh, yeah you can. there you go.”

“tobi—!” you gasp, orgasm tearing though you as he pressed his entire weight onto you, fucking you hard and fast right through your high. you can’t help it, cunt squeezing down on him hard— juices splashing against kageyama’s stomach, making him almost grateful that he pushed his sweat shirt up to expose your pretty chest. “holy shit— tobio, i can’t, god—i can’t!,” pushing at his shoulders, your heave and hiccup as he picks up the pace and rams into your creamy sex again and again and again, forcing another orgasm out of you.

you fucking squirt, a clear stream pouring from your abused little cunt— eyes rolling back into your skull as a silent scream rattles around in your throat. your hands dart up to grab at midnight black hair, tugging tobio closer, close enough for him to feel you tremble as you cream hard around his dick, practically forcing him out of your hole.

“shit, baby…fuuck there you go, that’s it,” kageyama sighs against your wet lips, one arm outstretched over your head to grip the head board— the other between your bodies so he can tap his sensitive cockhead against your glistening and gushing pussy, running it up and down through the length of your slit. “mmhm, fuck you did so good, my good girl.” he stutters, lashes fluttering against your shoulder as he listens to the sticky sounds your puffy folds make while he glides through them. he kisses the tears that sit on the apples of your cheeks, using your shaky body to get himself off until he finds himself cumming against your cute little clit. a layer of thick white coats your hot mound and as he takes hold of his dick, tobio pushes the mix of your arousals back into you, shallowly fucking your hole as you twitch with the after shocks of your orgasm before he eventually settles inside you so you cockwarm him.

kageyama rolls off of you, pulling your leg high over his hip while you snuggle into him. “‘m sticky,” you complain, forming tiny fists against his chest. through the sleeves of your boyfriend’s kurasuno jersey.

“you’re sticky ‘n so pretty baby,” kageyama’s cheeks are pink tinted from exertion, a soft smile on his lips while feeling you up from under the kurasuno colours. “want you to wear this more often…you look really good in it.”

twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers. “i’ll wear whatever it takes to get you to fuck me like that again, tobi.” you purr into the shell of his ear, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “you’ll want to get spares of your japan team uniform as well.”

“oh yeah?” tobio hums, eyes on yours, cock twitching softly inside of you. “how come?”

“‘cause when you bring home a medal f’me, i can’t guarantee i won’t make a mess on you.”

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peachsayshi · 5 months

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✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ being wrapped in your arms feels like coming home ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 1,820

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: here is a little drabble in honor of toji's birthday! this piece was originally titled as "adoration" but I changed it to this instead. I'm taking a small posting break, but I'll be back to my regular schedule within a week! I'm sorry if I haven't been responding to tags or messages, but I will do so soon <3 I hope you're all having a wonderful time and I'm sending all my well wishes out to you! xo

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: widow toji; age gap (reader is 30 while toji is in his early 40s); a little angsty; toji attempting to break up with you but failing because he's oh so in love

toji overstayed his welcome which was only supposed to last the scorching heat of summer, but he found himself lingering through the quiet stillness of fall. winter came in with a brisk chill and gloomy skies, and that's when toji knew it was time for him to end things with you.

he’s lost interest far quicker in previous relationships. they served their purpose of healing over the wound in his heart, of soothing away the ache of loneliness. he oftens forgets that he was once a loyal, loving husband whenever he abandons yet another fling.

the difference, however, is he at least had the guts to verbally cut things off before.

fucking pathetic, he thinks as he scolds himself. he's been a coward, reducing his actions to disappearing before the sunlight peeks through the horizon, and avoiding any chance of waking you up. he ensures that he is never there to see the way your brows furrow with concern when your hand meets the cold pillow, because otherwise he would falter in his attempt to escape.

this has been going on for over two weeks now but last night was the first time you've actually snapped at his cold, detached behavior. he approached the argument with nonchalance to wither you down, shrugging off the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach and then walking out halfway through the fight.

he stayed at a motel thinking that maybe you have finally taken the hint that he's done.

he arrives back to his apartment only to be met with unfamiliar silence. the entrance of his home is dark and lifeless, and it's so quiet he can even hear a pin drop. there's a tightness in his chest, followed by a wave of disappointment that runs over him like a feverish shiver.

despite his hard headed decision, he's still anticipating on hearing your lovely voice to greet him as he walks through the door.

he knows it's selfish.

toji expected many things to happen after last night's fight. he figured the reaction to him leaving you (again) would be far bigger. a screaming phone call or a string of cursing text messages to call him out on his shitty behavior.

after all he deserves it for acting like an insufferable asshole.

he tries to swallow his guilt but it remains lodged in his throat when he acknowledges that this might actually be the end.

the expression on his features falls.

it’s better this way, he consoles, dragging his feet across the floor to approach his kitchenette. he shrugs off his beaten up, oversized coat and tosses it over one of the chairs. he opens one of the cupboards, and grabs a mug to prepare himself a cup of tea.

she’s too young to settle for a guy like me, he continues. widowed with two kids who he barely sees anymore, working paycheck to paycheck just to make ends meet…

a deadbeat.

he exhales, swirling his brew in his ceramic cup. the aroma of sweet leaves dances up the spiral of steam to kiss his nose.

she deserves more than me.

he places the kettle down but stares at the cup mindlessly, losing all train of thought as his hands grip onto the edge of the counter.

he can acknowledge that his insecurities are clouding his judgement on something truly special, even though this was only ever meant to be purely physical.

except, the sex was growing more intimate. the experience wasn't about pleasure for him anymore. he would find himself losing all focus to the depth of your pretty eyes, stealing kiss after kiss like your mouth was the source of where all his happiness belongs.

belonged.

it’s over now, he thinks again. it has to be.

a faint patter of footsteps distracts him, prompting him to ease his hold on the counter as the muscles on his face relax. his heart steadies itself, and he draws in a breath when he feels two arms delicately twine around his waist.

“you’re...still here...” he points out in shock.

he feels you press your forehead into his back. “of course, where else would I be?”

he clears his throat to release the guilt then spins on his heel to face you.

"I thought you might have taken off," he bluntly states as he rests his lower back against the counter.

his heart swells, emanates flurries of golden sparks when he meets your gorgeous irises. the will to carry on with his decision crumbles when he catches the corner of your mouth tick into a slight grin.

"I thought about it," you reply casually, loosening your grip to place your palms flat on the side of his stomach. "but the truth is I'm worried about you and I just…want to talk things out…make sure you're okay...”

“I’m the one acting like a jerk and you’re worried about me?” he blurts.

you quirk your brow at the slip of his question. “so, you know you’re acting like a jerk?”

toji’s eyes widen slightly, a hint of pink tainting his cheek. “I asked the question first.”

you purse your lips playfully, aware of the crack that's been revealed and ready to swing once again with another blow.

“it’s because you’re acting like a jerk that I’m worried about you,” you explain, “you’re not yourself when you’re unsettled about something…”

his face warms, the hue of pink deepening into a stronger blush. the familiarity of pointing out his personal traits feels all too homely. seven months shouldn’t feel like a forever but in this bubble with you time ceases to exist.

you trail the pads of your finger tips up his torso, your hands clasping around the back of his neck as you press all your soft and sweet parts right up against the frame of his body.

the brush of your lips on his scar prompts him to flutter his eyes close. he fails to stop himself from holding you then, his firm hands reaching for the outline of your waist

“so,” you murmur with a tempting kiss as you return to your question, “you know you’re acting like a jerk then?”

please don’t make me say it, he thinks, please don’t make me unravel right in front of your eyes.

he squeezes your side, whispering a defeated “listen…”

“did I do something wrong?” you question, a hint of pain laced through every vowel which only makes his heart ache further. “did something happen?”

toji shakes his head.

“it’s not you,” he grumbles. “look, you asked me a couple of weeks ago if this thing between us was serious and…it shouldn’t be.”

you narrow your gaze, tilting your head with adorable confusion that makes toji want to kiss you right there on the spot.

he can feel you pluck at the fabric of his sweater nervously, “why not?”

toji drops his head and sighs.

“c’mon, doll, let’s be real. I’ve got nothing to give you other than a good fuck in this shitty apartment. you're better off finding someone else and I don't want to waste your time”

you press your mouth into a firm line. “your behavior…” you reply, nipping your bottom lip slightly as you gather your thoughts. “are you acting like this because you…want to end things with me?”

toji has never felt smaller. you’ve reduced him into a shriveled pea rolling around his scuffed up boot. “look, it’s better this way, alright?” he admits with a raise of his head, still refusing to outwardly say what you easily deduced. “it's better to move on before things get too complicated…”

the silence hangs heavy in the air, the tension so thick toji feels like he can’t breathe properly. his heart rattles with no restraint, and he finds himself suddenly lightheaded. an apology rests on the tip of his tongue, ready to take back everything he just bombarded you with but his throat simply tightens once more when your hands cradle his strong jaw.

“I like your apartment,” you quietly speak, “your bed sheets always smell so good, and you fixed the water pressure after I complained that it sucked…”

toji blinks back his surprise.

“I also notice that you burn the candle that I got you and that you switched laundry detergents when your old one gave me that weird rash,” you giggle and toji couldn’t help but huff out an embarrassed laugh himself. “the windows let in the best kind of sunlight, and it’s always so cozy in here…”

you press your lips against his mouth to leave a chaste kiss, “as for the company…” you add on, nuzzling the tip of your nose over his, “I consider you more than just a good fuck.”

toji can physically feel himself wilting underneath the heat of your gaze. “I’m just looking out for you, doll.”

"you can look out for me by making me breakfast instead of running away from me..."

he looks serious but his eyes are sincere, holding a level of tenderness that he only reserves for you. his palm moves to seek out your lower back, a hint of pressure pulling you back into his warmth.

your lover has stayed tight lipped about his past, but over his period with you he's found himself spilling out a few secrets here and there.

"I haven't done this in a long time," he vulnerably admits.

"I know," you reassure him, "but...the real question is, do you want this?"

he parts his lips ready to seal the last nail in the coffin, ready to give you the chance to walk out of his life for good. but you're gazing up at him from underneath your eyelashes, your determined stare an opening of your own mercy. your plush, supple lips summoning his cowardice into oblivion.

"toji?"

his breath hitches, his apprehension silenced by the urgency of his desire.

you're so lovely, he thinks. you feel like home.

"I want you," he reveals, his deep voice smoky and untethered, releasing enough sentiment in those three words that he can feel you tremble in his arms. "I just don't deserve you. I don't want you getting caught up in my bullshit..."

""you're a lot sweeter than you look, you know?" you run your fingers through the streaks of his black hair, combing it back to reveal his forehead. "you deserve to be happy, toji, and...and I think I can make you happy..."

your aura beams with delight when he flashes you a wolfish grin in return. a smile you've grown to adore so deeply. his apology comes in the form of a kiss, one that's gentle and slow. a stroke of fire burns up the back of your neck, making you quiver in places when he glides his tongue across yours. you hum softly into his lips while he releases a content sigh, the barrier he's been keeping up turns to ashes beneath your feet.

#toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fluff #toji angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #peach is {offline} ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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imfinereallyy · 8 months

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Spooky Spouse🕸️𓆩♡𓆪🕸️

happy spooky season :) this is for my mutuals @cranberrymoons @penny00dreadful @theheadlessphilosopher @vthx who when I asked about when we think steddie bday's was, it derailed into well...this. And it was too hard to resist.

v brief mention of nsfw

"You want to what?"

Eddie stares at Steve excitedly, practically vibrating in his spot across from Steve in the kitchen.

"We should get married on Halloween!" Eddie shouts.

Steve lets his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he looks at his very manic, albeit very cute, fiance. "Babe, I love you, and for that, I am going to hear you out—"

"Love you too." Eddie interrupts softly.

Steve's mouth curves at the edges; he's sure he has what Robin has claimed as his 'lovesick' smile on his face. "—but why would you want to get married on your birthday?"

Suddenly, Eddie's excitement switches into an embarrassed blush. Hiding behind a finger spun around a soft curl, he mumbles, "...about that..."

Steve sighs and leans back in his chair. He feels the familiar ache in the bottom of his back, scarred road rash that never quite healed right in 86'. If he sits too long in one spot, Steve finds himself fidgety and unsettled.

He wonders briefly if he can convince Eddie to give him a massage later.

Eddie's embarrassment shifts for a moment to concern, eyes wondering where Steve's back meets the base of the old wooden chair they found on 74th Street two years ago. Steve knows Eddie had liked the way the chair creaked like Steve's knee, and that was reason enough to bring it home. Now, though, with the way Eddie holds his breath to see if the familiar creak of the chair will mix with the sounds of Steve's young bones aging, Steve knows he won't have to do any convincing at all.

"I'm okay, Eds. You were saying."

Eddie's face blooms red again. "Okay, only if you promise not to be mad."

"That is never a good sign."

Eddie bites his lip, "What if I told you that my birthday isn't really on Halloween?"

Steve stares blankly, "I know I've had a few knocks on the head, Eds, but I'm pretty sure you can change your name, not your birthday. Having a wedding doesn't mean you get to move your birthday."

"Well!" Eddie jumps, this time with more anxious energy, "You see, that's what I mean; we wouldn't have to move my birthday if we got married on Halloween."

"Okay, you lost me. Am I concussed again? Did we go too hard last night? I know you said you were 'gonna fuck me so good I would forget my name,' but I'm pretty sure this isn't what you meant."

Eddie takes a deep breath before getting on his knees in front of Steve, taking his hand into his own. "Stevie, I mean that I lied. My birthday isn't Halloween. It's actually in February."

"What."

"You said you wouldn't be mad!"

Steve snorts but gives Eddie's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm pretty sure I actually said that 'wasn't a good sign'. I never agreed not to be mad."

"We both know it means the same thing to you." Eddie huffs.

Steve's lovesick smile is back again, despite knowing he should be mad. "You're telling me you've convinced everyone your birthday is on Halloween?"

"...well, everyone but Wayne." Eddie's smile turns sheepish.

"Jesus Christ Eds."

Eddie jumps up from his knees back to his feet. Steve can hear Eddie's ankle crack at the sudden change. He keeps a hold on Steve's hand. "Listen, I had good reason. I love Halloween; I should be a Halloween baby. My death was almost by bats; I mean, by that logic, it's almost full circle."

"I feel like you're D&D'ing me into logic that doesn't make sense. Eddie, are you trying to make it worse?"

Eddie throws his head back and groans, "No. I'm just—I love Halloween. It feels wrong not to have something important on that day."

"So you decided to change your birthday? Ed's that's not legal."

Eddie's excitement comes back tenfold, giving Steve whiplash. "Well, neither is our wedding! So it's perfect! Honestly, very metal of us to be fighting the law on such an amazing day." Eddie's arms flap around in excitement, making their conjoined hands move messily throughout the air.

Steve wants to be mad; he really does. But he can't help it; he just loves this idiot too much. "Fine, we can get married on Halloween."

"Really?!"

Steve stands, bringing his lips to Eddie's hand, then gently to his lips. He murmurs against his mouth, "On two conditions."

Eddie nips Steve's lip, "Anything, baby."

"One." Steve starts, sliding his tongue into Eddie's mouth, just to be a brat, before pulling back. Eddie groans but doesn't protest. He knows that this is the rare occasion it's his turn to be punished. "You have to tell everyone the truth about your birthday."

"Yep, fine. You got it." Eddie grabs Steve by the back of his neck and pulls him back. Consuming him greedily, Steve gives in to the distraction for a moment. Loving the feeling of Eddie's heat pressed against his own.

Steve pulls back reluctantly, a trail of spit connecting the two of them. Eddie whines and paws at Steve's hips, trying to draw him back. "Two, you have to tell me when your actual birthday is."

The heat clears from Eddie's eyes and the sheepish look returns. "Uh..."

Steve starts to remove himself from Eddie, but Eddie scrambles to bring him back against his chest. "Fine. Fine, I'll tell you."

Steve leans his forehead against Eddie's, patiently waiting for him to spill.

"It's February 14th."

Steve's eyes go wide, "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ."

this spiraled form all of us being convinced eddie would lie and say his bday is on Halloween. to my mutals, sorry I didn't tag you all it got to long, but this was for you guys ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#steddie #they are so sick in love #eddie just wants to be the halloween king #rip eddie you would have loved nightmare before christmas #stranger things #my writing #steve harrington #halloween #halloween steddie #ficlet #eddie munson

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echo-stimmingrose · 5 months

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Grover is the satyr equivalent of 12-14 in the first book. He is a child.

When he was tasked with bringing Thalia to camp and failed he would have been at most 9 years old. He was traumatized by her death, and he no doubt blamed himself for it.

He was shamed by the cloven council at (max) 9 years of age for a death he would not have been strong or skilled enough to prevent. He knows the counsel would have preferred that he died trying to save her which likely would have ended up in his and Thalia's deaths. He sometimes wonders if he would have preferred that as well.

When he is trying to get Percy to camp safely Percy hears him muttering "sixth grade- they never make it past sixth grade!" A reference to Thalia and his first mission. Grover is knocked unconscious due to the minotaur but thankfully Percy is able to get to camp without dying. However, he loses his mom in the process. Another death Grover has on his conscience before she comes back.

Thalia, against all odds comes back as well and he's able to feel some kind of relief. He gets to see her alive again and can almost not feel guilty anymore. He starts to calm down, able to ease his own anxiety with the help of Percy and Annabeth. He works on no longer feeling like a failure.

Then he finds the Di Angelo's. The third and fourth big three kids Grover has stumbled across. He tries to hide his anxiety as he gets the two very young kids to camp, focusing on his task because he would not fail again.

They arrive safely to camp unfortunately at the cost of Annabeth being taken. He doesn't know what to feel. It seems his loved ones safety always comes with a sacrifice.

He's the first to volunteer for the quest for her after Thalia. He knows Percy wants to go as well and will not be happy that he can't but a part of Grover wants Percy to stay at camp. Stay where it's safe as selfish as that may be.

Of course his hopes of Percy staying put were unrealistic and he knew that. Percy was far too loyal to rest while someone he loves is in danger. He could sense Percy's anger and restlessness as soon as they left and he knew his best friend would catch up to them very soon.

Grover is now on a quest with three kids he found. Three kids he was tasked with protecting. Three kids from a group of five where two are fated to die.

Bianca is lost and Grover knows that unlike the last two, there is no hope for her return. Even then he digs through the rubble desperately, not stopping until Thalia pulls him away.

They are able to rescue Annabeth and return her to safety. But as always, the safety of his loved ones came with a cost. A sacrifice someone else had to make.

#this is a grover appreciation post #grover underwood #i dont really know what this is i just want to weite something for Grover #my boy has been through so much #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #thalia grace #sally jackson #bianca di angelo #zoe nightshade

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lostdreamr-blog1 · 7 months

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Beautiful Stranger

Summary: Jake was talked into picking up the coffee order for the group, but little did he know he would be leaving with more than that.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Wow friends…it has been a hot minute since I have posted. Life got crazy and my motivation to write had lessened. But I am back and slowly going through my inbox requests! Thank you all for the constant love and support. Excited to put out more writing for you!

Jake had no idea how he was the one picking up coffee for the group, but here he was standing in line at an overly crowded coffee shop, twenty minutes out of the way of base.

It was obvious that he didn’t fit in with this crowd. Hipster was the word that came to mind seeing the strange outfits and unruly haircuts. Someone wearing a crisp uniform and hair with every strand in perfect place screamed odd man out. He was uncomfortable to say the least and swore up and down he would never be doing this again.

Bradley told him they ordered ahead so he wouldn’t have to worry about going through the order of nearly ten coffees, but scanning the pick-up counter told him he would have to wait some.

He found a small corner out of the way of traffic and took in his surroundings. One of the benefits of a place like this meant people watching would entertain him until the order was ready.

There was a couple splitting a bagel not too far from him. It looked like something out of a cheesy movie, with the whispering and lovey smiles. He had to bite his tongue to keep from snorting out loud.

The next group he saw looked to be college students strung out on entirely way too much caffeine with the way they were frantically typing. He didn’t miss those days of cramming for exams and writing pointless papers at the last minute. But he did think he at least looked a bit more put together when he was their age. Or that’s what he told himself.

Jakes eyes nearly passed over the young woman in the opposite corner from him, quietly writing in a notebook. She was locked into whatever she was working on, despite all the noise around her. Between the music playing throughout the store, expresso machines going off, and countless conversations being had, Jake had no idea how the woman could get any work done. But here she was, chewing on the end of her pen lost in thought, not giving anything around her an ounce of attention.

He found himself starting to really look at her. She was dressed casually but somehow managed to make it look almost professional. Her hair was pulled back into one of those giant clips that he never understood how it stayed in place all day. The makeup was minimal, but she didn’t need it in his opinion.

“Hangman?” Jake nearly jumped when he heard his order called out, breaking him away from the thoughts of the random stranger across the way. He politely nodded thanks to the barista and took the two drink carriers from her. But before he walked out, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder nearly tripping over himself when he saw the woman looking up at him. He recovered as quickly as possible, making it through the door without dropping anything.

It was on the way to base that the thoughts starting spiraling out of control. Was it a coincidence that she looked up as he was leaving? Was it his call sign that pulled her attention? And if so, why? Jake shook his head, stopping himself from continuing down the rabbit hole. He had zero interaction with this woman and yet his mind wouldn’t get off her. It was early in the morning, and he wasn’t fully awake to be making rational decisions. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Bradley and Natasha met him outside the locker room, thanking him for grabbing the coffee. He grumbled a response and went to his locker to put his things up. Bradley didn’t give much thought to the minimal interaction with the pilot, but Natasha did. “Everything go okay with the order?”

Jake nodded his head and shut his locker. “Just don’t see why you need something that expensive and out of the way when we have a perfectly good coffee machine here.” Natasha shook her head with a smirk, realizing just how out of his element he must have been.

“It’s good coffee. Can’t help that I have expensive taste.” Jake huffed out a breath, “Lord help your future husband.”

It was a week later when he got a text from Natasha begging him to grab her a coffee from the same damn place. He went to reply no, when another text popped up saying she was running late and would buy lunch to make up for it. Rolling his eyes, he replied back saying he was feeling something expensive for lunch to match his taste. An emoji with a lovely hand gesture was sent back with the word “fine”, making him chuckle. At least it was one coffee this time.

Jake took a deep breath as he walked into the coffee shop, mentally preparing himself for what seemed like unorganized chaos. The place was packed with nearly ten people in line waiting to order. He looked down at his watch and saw that he was here around the same time as last week, but for some reason today was busier than before.

The counter was filled with drink orders, taking him a minute to read through all the names. His friends’ wasn’t there yet and he turned to find refuge in his corner while he waited. He looked around at the people and while they weren’t the same as before, the types of groups remained the same.

“For someone who looked like he’d rather gouge his eyes out than be here last week, you came back.” A soft voice pulled his attention down to a woman sitting at a table close to him, revealing the beautiful stranger he had just managed to stop thinking about.

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason words wouldn’t form. He could slap himself for looking like an idiot in front of her. He had never once been at a loss for words with a woman, but something about her made himself conscious of everything he did.

“I didn’t mean to call you out like that. I just didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” She was smiling up at him, making the tops of his ears burn.

“A friend was running late and asked if I could pick up her order.” It was a short statement, but the smile on the woman’s face dimmed a bit. “Must be some girl for you to put yourself through this first thing in the morning.”

Jake quickly shook his head trying to back track, “She’s my teammate and promised me lunch if I did this. Nothing more.” The woman hummed and looked back down at her notebook.

“Well, if you make this a regular thing, I am good friends with the staff and might be able to get your order out a bit quicker. Wouldn’t want you to go into crisis mode over a coffee shop.” She was biting back a smile as she poked fun at his clear discomfort of the place, but Jake couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Darlin’, you have no idea how much that would mean to me.” Why he just committed to this being a regular thing, he had no idea. But he did know he wanted to see the beautiful stranger again.

“Hangman, right?” His eyebrows shot up at the remembrance of his call sign. “Hangman is my call sign. You can call me Jake.” Her eyes sparkled in what he thought was amusement.

“Well Jake, my name is Y/N, and I would be happy to help you out. I am here most days working on things. Why don’t you give me your number so you can text me when you plan on stopping by. That way I can let my friends know to look out for your order.” This girl was nothing but confident. Jake didn’t think he had ever had a woman ask for his number before and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Hangman?” His name was called out like last time, but instead of feeling relieved to get out of the overcrowded shop, he wanted to stay as long as possible. “Better get going, pilot. Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” She gave him a wink, something that he normally did with women, and knew he was already in trouble.

He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing the coffee and headed out to work. He hadn’t made it out of the parking lot before his phone vibrated with a text. “Make sure it’s not another week before you come back in. I might forget all about you.” Jake smiled and drove to base, texting her back when he pulled in.

“Wouldn’t want to keep a beautiful woman waiting.” The smile never once left his face as he walked in. Natasha thanked him over and over again for the coffee but stopped when he saw the difference in his demeanor this time. “What’s gotten into you?” He shrugged his shoulders, “You were right. The coffee there is worth the drive.”

She gave him a skeptical look but didn’t push him any further. She would rather have a happy Jake than one who was ready to pick you apart at a moment’s notice.

And that’s how it was for the next month. Jake volunteered to get the coffee, finding any excuse to talk to his beautiful stranger. But the visits became longer, and the texting became more regular to the point where every free moment he had was spent getting to know her. It wasn’t long before Jake asked Y/N on a date, and he quickly found that this girl was the one for him.

Everyone knew something was up with their teammate. He had become less selfish and more of a team player. A feat no one thought was possible but didn’t want to push their luck. It wasn’t until Natasha said she would get her own coffee that the truth came out.

“Jake, you have been getting my order for me for nearly a month now. I can get it this once and give you a break from the drive. Just let me know your order.” Jake shook his head at her and said he had no issues getting it.

Natasha kept pushing until Jake blurted out, “I see someone every time I go there. It is one of the few times the two of us get to spend time with each other because of our schedules.” She stopped and thought about what he had said. Who there would he see every single time?

And then it clicked.

“Oh god. Tell me you aren’t seeing Y/N.” Jake tilted his head in confusion. “How the hell do you know her?”

Natasha looked at him in shock. “Because she owns the coffee shop. And her dad is our boss.”

Jake froze as he took in her words. Owning the coffee shop made sense. She was there all the time and said she knew the staff well, because it was her staff. That didn’t bother him. What did was not knowing who her dad was.

“I didn’t know Maverick had a daughter.” Natasha shook her head.

“Not Maverick you idiot. Admiral Simpson.”

And that was when certain things clicked into place. She looked up at him the first day because she knew the call sign. Her dad had to of talked about them a time or two, especially with this new assignment. The amusement she had when he told her his name was for the same reason. She knew who he was, but he didn’t have the slightest clue who he had been talking to. This girl was okay with the last-minute changes in plans or the late replies due to his schedule because she had grown up with it. The group insisted on getting coffee there because they were supporting someone in the TopGun family.

He was head over heels for the Admirals daughter and was royally screwed when he found out.

A/N: Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? I always love hearing back from you all! Thank you so much for reading!

Tag list: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @bobfloydsgf @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticassidy

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #topgun maverick #top gun maverick #topgun #hangman #chelsea writes

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mountainsandmayhem · 1 month

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Right Person, Wrong Time

Joel Miler x Female Reader

AN: This is for @undercoverpena 's April Showers Challenge. And for once, I did not write smut. I know, who am I? This is not beta'd or really proof read. I'm basically having imposter syndrome over the whole thing soooo...Love you, say it back, bye!

You know that famous saying, “Right Person, Wrong Time”? Well, that was Joel Miller. He had the potential to be the absolute love of your life, but as a single father to a teenage girl and a small business owner, he just didn’t have the time right now. You were about to turn thirty, him thirty six in just a few days time. So, the night before his birthday you made the gut wrenching decision to end things with him.

“What do you mean we should see other people? There’s no other people.” He proclaimed, eyes filling with tears, mirroring yours.

“It’s just not the right time. I want to get married and have a baby, Joel. Do you really want that?” You have to remain strong, it had only been three months, you hadn’t met Sarah or any of his family. Same with your side, he knew about your sisters but no one else was at risk of being hurt by this break up outside of the two of you. This was the right thing to do before you both got in too deep.

Right Person, Wrong Time.

Almost twenty five years later and you still find yourself replaying that conversation. Every September, Joel flashes behind your eyelids - still perfectly clear, almost like it had just happened yesterday. Dark curly hair, patchy scruff, big brown eyes and furrowed brows; one day he’s going to have a permanent crease between them from all his sexy scowling. If you focus hard enough, you can feel his rough and calloused fingers on your skin. You can still hear his deep and silky voice, almost managing to make you feel lighter every time he said your name or called you darlin’ or sweetheart.

“That feel good, Darlin’?”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go for me.”

The outbreak happened not even 24 hours after you broke up with him. Had he survived? There’s no way you survived and he didn’t. Your suspicions were confirmed the day Tommy Miller showed up.

For the most part you liked to keep to yourself, running the community garden. You’re thankful for the small and safe community, but word gets around. And when you hear that Tommy’s brother has come to town you shrink even further back into the shadows, unsure if you want to see him again. Would it hurt more if he remembered you, or if he had no memory of you and that conversation that has imprinted itself upon you? Joel Miller is your last memory, both happy and sad, before the world fell apart.

Him, and the little girl he showed up with, left before you found the courage to approach him and soon winter took over Jackson, leaving you without the garden. Without the distraction from your thoughts of Joel.

The winter is long and brutal. April finally rolls around, and you trudge out into the rain and head to the dining hall for dinner. The gates open in the distance, but you’re lost in your own thoughts. This is more rain than you have seen in months. The garden is going to love it, you think. Just as you’re about to step up the creaky wooden steps you hear your name. It floats across the commune in a deep, gravelly, and oh so familiar voice.

You stop, tears flooding your lash line and the mud squeaking under your rubber boots as you turn to look at him through glassy eyes. Your lips part and your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. The world around you melts away. All you can see and hear is Joel Miller. He’s aged, grey peppers his temples and facial hair, he has those lines that you knew he would permanently etched between his brows, but those big brown eyes are like they’ve been frozen in time as they dance around your face.

“It’s you,” he says softly, voice shaking in a mix of sadness and relief, as he takes a few steps towards you. “I-I can’t believe it. I’ve, well��” He rakes his fingers through his soaked curls as you stare at him. The rain is coming down in a steady sheet, the ground becoming a muddy mess, and both of your clothes completely soaked through. You haven’t taken a breath in what feels like hours.

It’s you.

“I have thought about you almost every day since the world fell apart,” he continues, his warm voice washing over you like molasses. “When I was at my lowest I would think of that little dimple you get when you smile, or that time wine came out of your nose from when you laughed at that stupid joke I made. I don’t remember the joke, but I remember how happy you looked as the sun set and the orange glow lit your skin. I’d remember the way your face scrunched up when you tried whiskey for the first time. I would remember where all your freckles are, and how soft you were against my lips as I kissed every single one. I’d think of that first time we made love, how I’d never felt that overwhelmed with emotion for another person before, how in that moment I realized that I was truly fucked when it came to you. It was anything you wanted, sweetheart. Even if it meant you wanted to break up. I never should have let you go, darin’. I’m so sorry. I tried to find you before we fled for Boston.”

By the time he’s done talking you’re right in front of him, chest grazing his, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. You have no idea how you got that close to him. You don’t remember moving your feet. Joel Miller, your Joel Miller. Greyer, lines around his eyes, but yours.

As the rain pelts down you waste no time, reaching up around his neck as he lifts you up and into his embrace. Your noses graze as you whisper a quiet ‘I missed you so much’ into his lips.

“I’m never letting you go, baby. Never again.” He says and then you press your lips into his in a searing kiss. It lights your whole body on fire, you feel like you’ve been hit by a defibrillator.

You’re alive again.

====================

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi i @pedritoferg @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey @iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81

#undercoveraprilshowerschallenge #joel miller #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel angst #joel miller angst

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travelerpoetry · 23 days

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Of Atlantean descent Maddie Fenton

I've been thinking about a few things specifically Maddie being of Atlantean descent the line she comes from was minor royalty that specialises specifically in protection (Family, People, Land etc.)

Her great-great-great-grandfather was estranged from his family due to falling in love with a human woman who showed such passion in wanting to help get rid of pollution and help sea and on-land wildlife that were seriously hurt by man-made machines recover and be released into the wild once more and after a whirlwind romance with adventure and soft touches years later they had a child and they couldn't be happier.

But due to a complicated family matter her great- great-great-grandfather's Father called him back home to Atlantis, her great-great-great-grandfather did not expand on the issue any further. He claimed in one of the old letters Maddie found that he'd be back soon and not to worry about him

But in his absence, her great-great-great-grandmother fell sick with a deathly Illness that killed her before her great-great-great-grandfather could return and it was in fact her Great-great-great-grandmother's neighbour who found her dead and her child (Maddie's great-great-grandfather) in the crib next to her bed crying for his dead mother's attention.

The neighbour of course called the police who in return came with child protective services that placed her great-great-grandfather in a foster Family due to not finding her great-great-grandfather's Father.

Her great-great-great-grandfather came back only to find everything he knew gone his Wife? Nowhere to be found, his Son? Can't be found. Maddie's great-great-great-grandfather stricken with grief over the Family he lost soon died from Heartbreak.

But her great-great-grandfather had kept photos of himself as a baby with his Mother and a Ring.. a Ring that was as he was told placed next to him in the crib he was lying in as he was found that fateful night by his Mother's neighbour.

The Ring became an Heirloom passed from generation to generation. until Maddie finally got her curious little hands on it on her tenth Birthday and Maddie knew.. she knew that there was something special about that Ring that was so beautiful with shells and fish-shaped crystals that were littered across the ring in a pattern and little ten-year-old Maddie was right the artefact as she had realised it wasn't just a ring had helped her breath underwater she had gills! And scales! But sadly no tail... but little Maddie was ecstatic!

and Maddie kept the ring well into her adulthood and as she finally started a Family with the man she loved Jack and furthered her research into the ecto-entities she grew happier, happier than she had ever been happier than when she was in the water free to explore and relax.

Her oldest Jasmine showed no signs of being as drawn to the ocean as she was as a child but Jazz still could hold her breath at a minimum of 17 minutes! Jazz also seemed to not particularly care for the ring though commenting multiple times that she finds the ring to be beautiful .

Her second oldest Danny had been drawn to the Ring, he constantly begged to have it when he was younger until Maddie had given him the ring permanently. Danny loved the ocean and went to visit it a few times a month and after her Son had revealed the fact he had died due to the machine that Maddie and Jack built and that the ocean was the only place he was truly at peace? Well, she and Jack made sure to tell him how much they loved him how he would always be their son no matter what and that they promised to go to the beach more often with the family if he truly felt that much better there.

After She and Jack found out about Dan and Eliie? Well, they welcomed both with a big bear hug courtesy of Jack and his Joy of finally being able to pamper younger children again. Both were apparently de-aged due to them not being very stable in this timeline but Maddie and Jack couldn't careless they were just so happy that there were no more secrets between all of them and that they could finally be a truly Happy family but ofcourse before that She and Jack had forced Vlad into therapy and he's slowly redeeming himself.

Now nothing could surprise the Fenton Family anymore!

That was what they thought before an Atlantean King came knocking on their door claiming that Maddie was related to him.. oh well what is a new Family member to this already chaotic but loving Family?

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yelena-bellova · 1 year

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Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: Carry You Home

Plot: Ellie and Y/n do their best to save a wounded Joel and survive on their own.

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, language, blood, injuries, hunting, reference to smut

A/N: Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy…these chapters suck to write for 2 reasons…1: D*vid. 2: We’re getting so close to the end that I want to cry 😫 I’m going to miss this show so much!!

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist if your age/range isn’t in your bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I hope y’all enjoy this blend of fluff and angst and laughter. I’m going to try to get 14 out on Sunday, but no promises. Read on!

——————

“Protect him.”

Tess’ dying words had echoed through Y/n’s mind more times than she could count. The sentiment had travelled with her across the county, an ever-present passenger on their journey.

And now they were haunting her.

Ellie and Y/n had managed to get Joel into the basement of an abandoned house, laying him down on an old, dank mattress. Unfortunately, he had woken up by then and was feeling the full force of his wound.

“I know, I know,” Y/n tried to soothe him as he screamed, bent over his abdomen. The tourniquet had done a subpar job at stopping the bleeding. If it had been a river, now it was a stream. “Hold still,” she looked to Ellie, “Press down on the wound. Hard.”

Ellie had found an old towel in the kitchen upstairs and tore off a strand.

“Squeeze,” Y/n instructed Joel, who was already squirming in pain, “Hard as you need.”

Joel had lost enough blood for the world around him to spin, the only things in focus were Ellie and Y/n’s faces.

Y/n nodded to Ellie, who pressed down on Joel’s wound, causing him to choke on his own breath. His hand shot out, reaching for Y/n’s arm and crushing it in his grip. She turned her face downwards to hide the grimace of pain.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ellie cursed as Joel writhed beneath her hands.

“Keep going,” Y/n ordered, blindly reaching a hand out to push Joel’s shoulder into the mattress, “Honey, c’mon, I need you to work with us.”

Joel winced, digging his head back into the bed. Out of all the injuries he’d sustained over the years, this was the worst. Not just because of the searing pain stabbing through him, but because it was the one that was going to take him out.

He was dying, and neither Y/n nor Ellie could stop it.

“Leave.”

They both ignored the word.

“Leave,” Joel strained through it again.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Y/n stated, watching Ellie’s hands, “He’s gonna say some weird shit.”

“Go,” he continued.

“Shut up, Joel,” Ellie’s breaths quickened in quiet panic.

“Take the gun-“

“Joel, shut the fuck up,” she yelled.

“Ellie,” Y/n said forcefully, the girl’s hands were slipping. She pushed them off and held the rag down on Joel’s wound.

With a last surge of strength, Joel reached out and grabbed Ellie by the collar, yanking her to face him.

“You go,” Joel whispered, “You go. You go north. Y/n-“

Y/n shook her head, shutting out the reality of their dire situation. “Stop,” she said without looking up.

Joel was undeterred, “You go to Tommy.”

“Stop,” Y/n gritted out, her hands hanging over his stomach with no plan of action. She wasn’t even sure what there was to be done. At best, she was only stalling Joel’s death by a few precious minutes.

When she finally dared to look up, her gaze fell on Ellie, whose eyes were misting as she stared down at Joel. He shoved Ellie back, releasing her from the burden of caring, and let his arm fall at his side.

Joel managed to turn his head, letting his eyes wash over the woman he loved, had never stopped loving. Kneeling over him and covered in his blood, he thought back to how she’d looked the night they’d first met. Her eyes untouched by cynicism, her laugh deflecting no hidden pain, her smile striking him like lightning and giving him a new pursuit in life; to bring enough joy to her life that her lips were forever turned up.

Now he was going to break her heart. Again.

He thought of their last night together, spent cradling each other’s bodies underneath the sheets in Jackson. How his skin had remembered the feel of hers the moment they touched, how his lips had recalled the roads they used to travel across her like he would an old hometown street. Though bathed in the tears of their sins and all they had lost, he had been reborn at the first kiss. He had a standing reservation in hell, but he could go knowing he’d felt the touch of an angel.

“Rose…” Joel strained out, the word tasted like sweetness.

The four letters burned in Y/n’s ears, sending a new wave of fear through her. “No,” she finally looked to Joel, “This isn’t how it happens.”

“Rosebud,” he pushed with a surprising calm to his tone.

“Joel, no,” Y/n fought to keep her sobs down, “This is not how it happens. It’s not.”

Joel’s hand shakily slid up her arm, needing to feel her as he told her, “I love you.”

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, the strength of her grip on the towel faltering as she forced them open to look at Joel. Despite his impending death, there was a peace that filled in the lines of his face, one that only graced those who were on their way out.

“No,” Y/n whined, her voice unable to carry further than the distance between them. She reached up to stroke his hair, taking his cheek in her other hand, “This isn’t how I want to hear it, Joel. Please.”

Once he’d said it, he couldn’t stop. He was making up for twenty years in twenty seconds. “I love you. I love you…” Joel drew a shallow breath, “You go. You take her,” his stare gripped her, nearly choking the will out of her, “Go.”

For as prominent as Joel’s abandonment had been in her life, Y/n had done her fair share of leaving. She had left Sarah’s body, at least it had felt like leaving, when they’d sought shelter in the triage clinic. She had left her parents, panicked at what she had done, in the spots where she’d taken their lives. She had left Tess to die the worst way a person could, even if she was only following orders. Her life had been one abandoning after the other, and now she was being asked to abandon the love of her life.

In her haze, Y/n hadn’t even remembered Ellie was there. It wasn’t until she felt Joel’s thick coat being slipped over his body that she realized the girl was making her choice. She would decide, for once in their time together, to heed Joel’s words. And as her boots slapped against the stairs, she was also making Y/n’s choice.

Unable to force the words she felt like a sweet sickness inside her soul, she dissolved into tears, pressing her forehead to Joel’s. She didn’t think even if they’d had twenty years ahead of them that she’d have ever found to words to describe the depth of her love for Joel Miller. It stretched two decades of euphorias and tragedies. It was stronger than her hate or his violence. It was forgiveness and redemption and all-encompassing in its triumph over the worst of their persons.

Y/n sniffled, nudging Joel’s nose with her wet one and letting her mouth hover over his as if she could breathe life back into him. Joel took it, letting his eyes fall shut and savoring the the last of her lips he’d ever feel.

Joel had spent twenty years trying to detach from who he’d been, his old skin a constant reminder of all that he’d almost had. Y/n had spent twenty years trying to find her way back to her humanity, desperate to redeem herself. Without ever knowing it, they had been running back to each another, one step at a time.

Protect him.

Perhaps Y/n had only kept her promise to Tess in the beginning out of obligation. But now, now the words were as true as if they’d come out of her own mouth.

Joel had left her once.

She’d be damned if it happened again.

Y/n broke from Joel’s lips, rushing to her feet and bolting for the stairs.

From Joel’s point of view, it was the last he’d ever see of her. There was a duality that Cordyceps had forced on anyone who prioritized survival over anything else. Joel had meant every word with the force he’d said it, he wanted Y/n and Ellie safe. But he also knew he was dying, something that, despite all he’d wished over the years, he wasn’t ready to do yet. He had Ellie, this beautiful, unexpected gift of a child, who depended on him as if she was his own. And now he had Y/n, the miracle that he’d let slip through his fingers, returning to him with the same perfect timing she’d first appeared to him. He wanted to stay, to cherish and protect them like the man they made him feel he could be again. And if that wasn’t in the cards for him, he at least wanted to hold their hands as he faded out.

As Joel watched Y/n head up the stairs, he let a single tear fall down his face. He’d had one last night, one last kiss, and one last ‘I love you.’ It wasn’t a lifetime, but it would have to be enough.

When Y/n got to the stairs, Ellie was nowhere to be found. Was she already saddling the horses? Was it that easy for her to let Joel die?

“Ellie,” she called through her tears, bursting through the door, “Ell-“

The girl rushed past her, one step ahead, raiding cabinets and drawers.

Y/n felt herself breathing for the first time in an hour.

“What do we look for?” Ellie hurriedly asked.

“Something,” Y/n flung a empty cabinet door open, “Anything. We need to get the wound closed up.”

They searched high and low, in every room, until they met in the kitchen. Ellie dove for a set of drawers while Y/n scoured more cabinets.

“It won’t open,” Ellie groaned, pulling against the handle.

Y/n ran over, squeezing her hands next to Ellie’s and tugging with her. “Pull,” she breathed, the two of them shifted all their weight backwards.

The drawer’s internal mechanism released, the momentum they’d built throwing Ellie and Y/n to the ground. The contents were scattered from the drop.

“There’s nothing here,” Y/n panted, on the verge of frustrated tears.

“W-wait,” Ellie breathed, her hand sliding across the linoleum floor to grab something. She held up a rusted needle and thread to Y/n.

“Yes,” Y/n gasped, she took the supplies into her shaking palms. She wished she hadn’t used the last of her own days before, but they could make do with what they had, “Yes, this’ll work.”

Stumbling to their feet, they ran back through the door and down the steps, bringing salvation with them.

Joel was trying, trying to hold the rag to his wound, hoping it made his death a little less painful, but his strength was fading. His whole body shook with shivers, even his lips trembled from the cruel mixture of shock and the cold. He could feel himself slipping away, so much so that he was convinced the thudding footsteps he heard were hallucinations.

Y/n and Ellie kneeled down on either side of him, their faces illuminated by the last bit of light peeking through the clouded basement window. His saviors.

Ellie threw Joel’s coat off of him, catching her breath as she reached for his hand.

Y/n leaned down, interlocking her fingers with his other hand and brushing the hair from his face. She pressed a determined kiss to his clammy forehead, willing him to stay alive a little bit longer.

Joel would never admit to them just how much he’d wanted them to stay. He summoned what was left of his strength and tried to squeeze both of their hands, letting them squeeze back. They were going to fight this, and they were going to do it together.

Ellie reached for the towel and peeled the cloth off Joel’s wound. The bleeding had slowed, but was far from stopping. They had to move fast.

In the midst of their panic, Joel softly reached for Ellie’s cheek, pulling back halfway when he lost his strength. It was a moment none of them noticed in their mad rush.

“Honey,” Y/n began, pressing one more kiss to Joel’s skin, “We gotta get it closed up. It’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker,” she moved Joel’s hands to grab her forearms, “So you fuckin’ squeeze, and try to stay still for us. Okay?”

Ellie quickly thread the needle and tied a knot. Y/n wished she could spare her the pain of having to stitch Joel up, but Y/n was the only one who’d be able to hold him down and keep him relatively calm.

“Keep going,” Y/n directed Ellie, “I’m gonna try to keep him still, but you don’t stop, even if he moves.”

Ellie nodded, apologetically seeking Joel’s eyes one last time before turning to his abdomen.

Y/n put both her hands to Joel’s shoulders, bracing herself for what was to come.

“Go,” she said,

Joel let out a sickening groan as Ellie thread the needle, the pain giving him strength enough to squeeze Y/n’s arms so tight, she couldn’t help but wince. In his daze, he could sense he was hurting her, but couldn’t fight past that which his own body was bringing him.

Tears sprung to Y/n’s eyes as she forced Joel down into the mattress, taking the searing heat in her shoulder as a good thing. It meant Joel still had enough fight inside him to push through.

“I know, I know, I know, I know,” she muttered as Joel threw his head to the side, trying to hide his grimaces from Ellie, “I know, honey. Just hang on.”

Joel’s vision was going dark around the edges, the pain dulling all his senses. The only thing strong enough to cut through was Y/n’s voice.

“I’m here,” Y/n assured Joel, his eyes fluttering but fighting to look at her, “I’m here. I got you.”

“It’s stopping,” Ellie announced, still hard at work.

Y/n wasn’t able to sigh in relief yet, Joel had finally lost the battle and had slipped into unconsciousness. She’d expected it, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t still filled with dread.

It only took Ellie a few more minutes to finish sewing Joel’s wound, Y/n helping her to tie a clumsy knot at the end. They dabbed and tried to clean the blood off him as best they could before laying his shirts back down. When they were done, they slid off their ankles and onto the concrete, watching the rise and fall of Joel’s chest.

“Is he…” Ellie began before realizing it was a stupid question.

Y/n was fighting off the same thought, wondering if their efforts would be enough, or if it was a losing battle.

“I hope so,” she whispered, it didn’t matter to her if fate was calling Joel Miller home. She would rage against it regardless.

The next hour was spent waiting and watching. Ellie, eventually, went upstairs and collected their backpacks.

Y/n kneeled above Joel’s head, her hands resting over each of his ears. She combed her fingers through the ends of his hair, not trying to wake him or soothe him further into sleep, but simply providing what little comfort she could to both of them.

Ellie clunked down the stairs with their packs and sleeping bags, depositing them on the floor. She had spent the last three months watching Joel and Y/n fight, and the last week watching them drift back together. This was new. She hadn’t seem them vulnerable, on the verge of losing one another when they’d finally found some sort of peace. She didn’t have twenty years of experience, but she understood why Y/n was hunched over, cradling the man, who didn’t even know she was there.

Ellie settled against the wall, working up the courage to speak. “How’d you guys meet?”

It was perhaps the only thing said in the moment to make Y/n smile. “At a bar,” she answered, remembering the night like it had just passed, “A guy hit on me, couldn’t take the hint that I wasn’t interested…Joel threw a punch, Tommy threw the next…” she nearly laughed, “Then they threw him out.”

“So…he’s always been like that,” Ellie commented.

Y/n soothed a thumb over Joel’s cheek, the skin was so pale it almost brought on a fresh batch of tears. Or maybe it was the reminder that they’d once lived in a world where violence wasn’t a necessary evil. Where Joel’s laugh was an every day occurrence. When he kissed her as if it was the last time he ever would, with the end nowhere in sight.

“No,” she whispered over the lump in her throat, “He wasn’t.”

Ellie sensed she was getting to close to shattering what was left of Y/n, and she couldn’t do that. She needed one person left to look to, to hold her hand through these impossible problems. She rubbed her hands together anxiously, nearly choking on the words she wanted to say.

“Riley.”

Y/n dragged her eyes away from Joel to look up at Ellie, “What?”

Ellie drew a shaky breath, “Riley. She was my…she was my friend,” she rubbed her knuckles together, “She got infected and…”

All of Y/n’s longing told her to stay with Joel, not to move from her spot, no matter what. But her duty was to both him and Ellie, and she knew where she was needed at the moment. She inched her hands off of Joel’s head and crawled over to Ellie, coming to sit next to her against the wall.

“I knew Riley,” Y/n admitted, hugging a knee to her chest.

Ellie’s eyes widened, “You did?”

Y/n nodded, “She only joined a few weeks before…” she trailed off. Marlene had been the one to find them, Y/n had been back at base. But she’d met Riley, had even tried to take her under her wing before the fatal night at the mall. “She was fucking fearless,” Y/n shifted gears, “And fun.”

“Did she ever mention me?” Ellie asked after a beat of silence.

“No,” Y/n replied, looking over her arm to Ellie’s expectant stare, “I think she wanted to keep you safe,” she cracked a smile, “Bloodthirsty demons that we are.”

Ellie’s lips turned up the slightest bit, but they fell just as quick. It was one of the first times she had allowed herself to grieve her best friend, and there was something about the setting that made it all hurt worse. Across from her, Joel lay on the brink of death. To her side, Y/n was sitting with her in worry and in comfort. The last two people on the planet that she loved.

Y/n’s maternal instincts caught the change in Ellie’s demeanor just before she broke. She slipped an arm around her shoulders as the first tears fell, Ellie willingly sliding into Y/n’s side and curling her face into her body. It was the first time Ellie had allowed anyone, apart from Riley on that dreadful night, see her fall apart, and Y/n didn’t take it lightly. She pressed a kiss to the top of the young girl’s head, reminding herself that the journey had started out the two of them, and if even if tragedy intervened, it would end with the two of them.

—————————

Deep into the night, Y/n stayed awake, telling Ellie she’d press on until morning. The girl needed a break from the world.

Joel stirred a few times, letting out a moan or blindly reaching to clutch his wound. Y/n was there each time, holding his hand and soothing him back to sleep. Around what Y/n guessed was 3AM, he stopped slipping in and out and just stayed out. His ragged breaths, creating a steady rhythm in his stomach, were the only thing reassuring Y/n that he was still alive.

While Ellie was awake, Y/n held it together as best she could. But under the cover of dark, she allowed herself to fall apart, her fear for Joel’s life swallowing her whole.

“Do you remember that trip we took to the beach?” Y/n whispered, hanging over Joel’s head, stroking a hand over his hair as her other one cupped his cheek, “For our anniversary? Sarah’s graduation?”

In her weaker moments over the years, Y/n had drifted back to the memory. It was the last time she could remember feeling truly free and yet it was also the first time she remembered feeling tied down. Stuck in the space between Sarah’s dad’s girlfriend and a parent, between Joel’s love of one year and his potential wife. She wanted them both back; the liberation and the duty.

“Remember that night?” Y/n asked Joel’s unconscious form, she’d always wondered how she could recall the exact feel of the hotel sheets. The exact trail of her skin Joel’s lips had traveled. Which of his t-shirts she’d been wearing. “I made you promise that…” Y/n trailed off, bristling, “It sounds so fucking stupid now.”

“No matter how much I hated you,” Y/n slid her thumb against Joel’s cheek, “I couldn’t hate you enough to stop loving you. I tried, my g-“ Y/n chuckled softly, “I tried so fucking hard. Couldn’t do it.”

Her tears were building now, the more she exposed, the more the threat of loss became real.

“I waited twenty years, Joel,” she whispered, her throat tightening up on her, “Twenty fucking years, not knowing if you were dead or still hanging on. And then I got you back,” she sobbed once with nostalgic joy, “I got you back. And I can’t lose you before I get to love you again.”

Y/n lowered her head, dropping her lips to Joel’s ear, her voice barely audible, “Because I do. I love you. I love you so much it…” she bit back a cry, not wanting to wake Ellie, “It fucking hurts. You can’t just…you can’t just come back to me and then leave. You can’t do that to me. To Ellie.”

“I need you to fight,” Y/n begged, tears freely flowing down her cheeks, “I need you to fight so fucking hard, you need me to carry you the whole way to Utah, and I will. I’ll do it. I just need you there.”

Y/n choked on her sobs, digging her forehead into the mattress and letting them shake her. All her losses in life had been so sudden, she’d never had to watch a life hang, the pendulum swinging between a second chance and death. It was tearing her apart.

She wiped the snot and tears away on her jacket sleeve, the same sleeve that was painted with Joel’s dried blood. She leaned back over Joel, pressing the gentlest of kisses to his forehead. Y/n had heard stories of miracles, of voices at hospital bedsides being the thing to bring people back from death’s edge. She’d lost faith in that sort of thing after the loss of her family, but in the throes of worry, nothing was off the table. She’d stay up all night, telling Joel how much she loved him, if there was even a chance it would reach him.

—————————

For two days, Ellie and Y/n kept watch as best they could. With no medicine, there was little they could do to help Joel’s, now infected, wound.

Y/n finished up feeding snow to the horses, moving robotically from the garage to the basement. She hadn’t gotten more than maybe two hours each day. It didn’t feel right to rest when Joel was clinging to life.

She came downstairs to see Ellie kneeled next to Joel, placing one of their last pieces of rations on his chest.

“He wouldn’t want you doing that,” Y/n said softly.

Ellie sniffed away the cold air, “Yeah, well…”

If the terrible series of events was doing anything, it was showing how deeply they cared about each other.

“I’m going to go out real quick,” Y/n announced, heading to pick up her rifle, “Try and find us something to eat.”

“I’m coming with you,” Ellie jumped to her feet.

“No, you’re not,” Y/n replied, “You’re gonna stay here and watch him.”

“I can’t fucking do anything for him here,” the girl gestured down to Joel’s body, “If I can hunt something then…”

Y/n already knew what she was trying to say, she was desperate to feel in control of something. Hunting was a great way to make you feel like you had some power over the world.

“Okay,” Y/n sighed, “Twenty minutes.”

Ellie moved across the room to grab Joel’s rifle while Y/n crouched down and kissed his forehead.

“We’ll be back soon.”

The two of them filed up the stairs, both of their hearts unsettled at leaving without Joel. It was one thing to see someone with no fighting skills or survival techniques be taken down, but to see someone like Joel battling for their life was a quick way to make someone feel entirely exposed. And Y/n could feel the full weight of the responsibility they’d shouldered together the last three months.

Y/n drew her rifle into postition as her and Ellie exited through the front door, Ellie struck a similar stance. They moved down the driveway into the street, scanning for footprints in the snow that didn’t exist. They’d made the right decision to hide in the abandoned neighborhood.

Ellie and Y/n made their way to the forest, trudging through the snow and huffing patterns into the cold air.

“Remember what Joel taught you,” Y/n instructed, keeping her voice low to not spook any animals, “Regardless of what your instincts tell you, pull slow.”

Ellie’s eyes were already drifting ahead, having spotted a white rabbit thirty feet away from them. She glanced over to Y/n, who nodded for her to go ahead. Y/n felt better keeping her gun aimed at the space around them anyway.

Just as Ellie was setting herself up, the rabbit ran off. Ellie took off charging the way it had run.

“Ellie,” Y/n gritted, the worst thing to do when tracking an animal was to chase it.

Ellie tripped on a branch, falling face first into the snow.

Y/n came over and extended a hand to the girl, pulling her up to her feet. “Word of advice…if an animal’s running, you don’t go after it and make more noise.”

“Yeah,” Ellie exhaled, wiping the snow from her face, “I got that.”

“Come on,” Y/n hitched her rifle back over her shoulder, “Ten more minutes.”

The two of them walked a little further, eventually hearing a clicking noise that sent them both reaching for their guns.

Ellie hit Y/n’s arm, guiding her attention to a patch of trees providing shelter to a full-grown deer. Y/n gestured for her to take the nearest log and the shot. It felt like a good idea to keep Ellie as distracted as she could and maybe give her a much needed victory.

Heeding all of Joel and Y/n’s advice, Ellie lined up the shot perfectly and-

BANG!

The deer wailed, limping away into the depth of the forest.

“No fucking way,” Ellie muttered.

“Come on,” Y/n pulled her free hand and the two of them sprinted off after it.

There are certain moments in life that, with hindsight, stick out as forks in the road. If Person A hadn’t have made it to Point A, then Person B wouldn’t have found them and both their lives, good or bad, would be forever altered because they didn’t meet.

Y/n and Ellie couldn’t have known what they were running straight towards.

They tracked the blood trail of the deer 1/4 of a mile before hearing two male voices. Y/n threw her arm out, catching Ellie and holding a finger up to her lips. The two of them drew their rifles and very carefully stepped around the snowbank. Sure enough, there were two men standing over their now dead deer.

Y/n inhaled to speak.

“Don’t! Drop your rifles! Now!” Ellie yelled.

The two men carefully removed their guns from their backs, the taller of them keeping one eye on Ellie and Y/n.

“Turn around,” Y/n ordered, her gun locked on the tall man, while Ellie took the shorter one.

“Any sudden moves,” Ellie threatened, deepening her voice to make her words more convincing, “I put one right between your eyes. Ditto for buddy boy.”

Internally, Y/n grimaced. Ellie was going to get them killed with a poor imitation of Joel.

“You two are quite the hunters,” the shorter man said, his hands held in the air, “We didn’t even hear you coming.”

“Flattered,” Y/n replied, unimpressed, “But this is where you two walk away with your asses still attached and we take what’s ours.”

“Okay,” the man said, making no effort to move.

“Just go!” Ellie impatiently yelled.

“A-all I ask is ten minutes of your time,” the man continued.

“Did you not get that that was a warning?” Y/n muttered, extending her foot ever so slightly to make it look like she was taking a step closer.

“Please,” the man didn’t budge at her non-verbal threat, “Just ten seconds. My name is David. This is my friend, James. We’re from a larger group: women, children, and we’re all…very, very hungry.”

“We’re from a large group too,” Ellie lied, drafting the lie quickly in her head, “Also hungry.”

David sighed, “Well, even so…” he gestured to the deer, “Ya can’t drag this back just the two of you.”

“We’re fine,” Y/n finished the conversation. The world was dead, yet somehow misogyny was still alive and well…

“We’re not asking for charity,” David clarified, “W-we can trade you for some of the deer. What do you need? We have…boots-“

Ellie’s rifle lowered ever so slightly, her voice coming back to its childlike pitch, “Medicine? Like, for infections.”

“We do,” David replied, surprised they’d hit on something so fast, “Back in our village. You’re welcome to follow us.”

“Yeah,” Y/n wasn’t so quick to believe that it was just that simple, “That’s not happening.”

Ellie picked up her gun-slinging persona again, “Buddy boy can go get it. He comes back, you get half the deer. Anyone else shows up, I put-“

“Put one right between my eyes,” David finished for her.

“That’s right,” Ellie finished, sensing that at some point, she should have let Y/n take over the talking.

David turned to James, leaving his hands hanging in the air, “Alright, go talk to Howard. He’s got a case with some penicillin. Bring back two bottles and a syringe.”

James looked stunned at David’s request, as if killing the two women was the obvious option.

“It’s not code, James,” David added, “Do as I said.”

Y/n’s rifle remained trained on James, waiting for him to make the right move. The man kept his eyes on her the whole time till he could safely jog back into the forest.

“Ten steps back,” Ellie ordered David, her and Y/n marched the man backwards, “Keep going.”

Once he was past the deer, Ellie kneeled down to pick up David’s rifle, unloaded the cartridges while Y/n kept her aim fixed on him.

“That your dad’s gun?” David asked, “He the one who’s sick? That’s why you two are out here on your own?”

“This is not a Starbucks,” Y/n bit out, “We are not chatting over a latte. All you need to know is that one wrong move, and your village goes hungry a hell of a lot longer.”

The words hurt Y/n as she let them fly, she didn’t feel cut out for Joel’s intimidation tactics.

“Well, look, uh,” David looked behind them to an old cabin, “It’s a four mile round trip back to our settlement. It’s gonna be…a while before James gets back. I have some oil and matches in my pack, we could,” he gestured to the cabin once more, “Take shelter. Start a fire.”

It wasn’t the most obscene idea, Y/n thought. She didn’t plan on lowering her gun at any point, and if Ellie and her were going to make the trip back carrying half a deer with them, they needed to save the strength the cold was stealing from them.

“You bring him with us,” Y/n decided, nodding towards the deer.

David nodded back, a smile on his lips that Y/n couldn’t decode. She just knew she’d seen the same expression on the wrong kind of men before.

—————————

David tended to the fire he’d started in the middle of the cabin’s living room, sitting back down and warming his hands. Ellie and Y/n sat across from him, rifles aimed and ready to silence him.

“You know, you two really shouldn’t be out here on your own,” David said, his voice soft and concerned.

“Says the man with two rounds pointed at him,” Y/n remarked.

David shrugged, “Fair enough. So what’re your names?”

Ellie frowned, shaking her head in reply.

“It’s hard to trust strangers, I know,” David stated, “But I honestly mean you no harm. And for what it’s worth,” he opened his hands, “There’s room for you two in our group, if you want.”

“You’re inviting us to join your Hunger Club?” Ellie retorted, “Thanks.”

“It’s true, we’re hungry,” David admitted, “But we’re still here. I’m a decent man, just tryna take care of the people who rely on me.”

Y/n gave a nonchalant shrug, “Okay, so you’re the leader of a ragtag group of survivors. That’s nothing special.”

“Wasn’t my choice, it was theirs, but” David replied, “Yes.”

“They “chose” to follow you?” Ellie replied, “Is this some weird cult thing?”

One half of David’s mouth quirked up, “Uh, well, you sorta kinda got me there, I am a preacher, but just pretty standard Bible stuff.”

Ellie smiled to herself and glanced up at Y/n, who had already tuned out of the whole topic.

David looked between the women, “What?”

“The whole world ended, and you still believe that shit,” Ellie replied.

“I actually started believing after the world ended,” David corrected the girl, “Before that, I was a teacher. Math. Taught kids about your age.”

“So you went from teacher to preacher because, what? It fuckin’ rhymes?” Ellie fired back at the man.

David nearly laughed, “Yeah, exactly.”

Ellie smiled, just a little bit, keeping her aim on David but loosening it. He didn’t seem like much of a threat to her. Y/n, being older and having seen a lot more shit, was less convinced.

“But seriously,” Ellie prompted him to continue his story.

“Well, I found God…after the apocalypse,” David told them, watching Ellie more than Y/n, “Which is either the best time or the worst time to find Him, hard to say. But when the Pittsburgh QZ fell in ‘17, Fireflies and FEDRA…I left with a few others, and th-that’s how I ended up with our flock.”

“This is a long fucking way from Pittsburgh,” Y/n replied, perhaps it would have been a comment coming out of anyone else’s mouth, but it was an accusation from hers. There was something about him she didn’t trust.

David chuckled, “Yeah, we’d settle somewhere and then raiders would come, so we’d move again. And as we wandered, we picked up new people along the way until…” he glanced around him, “We ended up here.”

“Well, your luck had to run out sooner or later,” Ellie commented, the choice of words wasn’t lost on her or Y/n.

“Hm? Luck?” David rearranged his face the way some pastors did before jumping in the pulpit, “There’s no such thing as luck. No, I-I-I believe everything happens for a reason.”

Ellie and Y/n both shared a restrained smile, dodging the attempted sermon like it was a bullet.

“It does,” David insisted, grinning back at them, “I can prove it to you.”

“Okay,” Ellie agreed to his attempt.

David sighed, settling into his makeshift seat a little deeper. “We didn’t expect this winter to be so cruel. Nothing’ll grow. Game’s been hard to find. So I sent four of our people to a nearby town to-to scavenge what they could and only three of ‘em came back. And the one that didn’t was a father. He had a daughter just like you,” David pointed to Ellie, “And her dad was taken from her.”

Y/n slowly connected the dots, one step behind David but ten ahead of Ellie.

“Turns out…he was murdered,” David continued, “By this crazy man. And get this, that crazy man…was traveling with a little girl and a woman.”

Y/n was up on her feet, eye peering through the viewfinder, instantly.

“You see?” David smiled unsettlingly at Ellie, “Everything happens for a reason. James, lower the gun.”

Ellie spun around on her heels, both her and Y/n finding James returned, his handgun aimed straight at Ellie. They switched positions, Y/n’s weapon trained on James and Ellie’s on David.

“She is the one that killed Alec, isn’t she?” James asked.

“She didn’t kill anybody, neither of ‘em did,” David corrected, “Lower the gun.”

James and Y/n squared off, Y/n’s breath hanging on the edge of her lungs, just waiting to pull the trigger and release. Reluctantly, James lowered his pistol.

“Did you bring the medicine?” David asked his friend.

“Yeah, but-“

“Throw it to them.”

James hesitated, “David…”

Y/n’s back was turned to the preacher, but his silence indicated his seriousness. James reached into his pocket and tossed the small package at Y/n and Ellie’s feet.

“Back up,” Y/n said from between her teeth.

James did as requested, moving away from the medicine. Y/n moved closer to the man, letting him stare down the barrel of her gun while Ellie grabbed their trade.

“I know you’re not with a group,” David called, his voice creepily calm, “You won’t survive for long out there. I can protect you.”

They didn’t need to hear any more. Y/n fell behind Ellie, keeping her gun trained on the two men while the girl made a run for it. She thought to shoot them, be done with the whole thing and ensure their safe getaway. Except David had talked too much about his position in their town, they’d have twenty people after then instead of two. It was easy math.

As soon as she was certain David and James wouldn’t pick up their weapons, Y/n bolted into the forest after Ellie.

—————————

They made it back to the house, sweaty and out of breath.

Y/n shoved Ellie through the front door, fearfully scanning the street once before shutting and locking the door. When she got in, Ellie was already making for the basement, where Y/n followed her to.

“Are they gonna find us?” Ellie panted, sprinting down the stairs.

“I hope not,” Y/n replied, wishing she could give her more assurance they were safe.

Joel had barely moved since they’d left, his head having lolled to the right a little. Y/n knelt down at his shoulder, picking up a piece of rag to wipe the sweat from his brow. His body was working overtime to beat the infection.

“How the fuck do I do this?” Ellie loaded the syringe with the first bottle of penicillin.

“You put it either in the wound or around it,” Y/n instructed, an invisible question mark appearing at the end, “I don’t know, I’ve never dealt with a wound like this.”

Ellie considered her options, rolling Joel’s bloody shirt back and getting a good look at the gash. “Fuck it,” she muttered, just before inserting the needle in the middle of his wound.

Joel’s breathing quickened, his abdomen clenched a few times at the sensation, breaking through his unconsciousness. Y/n was there, pressing a kiss to his slick forehead, ready to hold him down if he woke.

“Okay,” Ellie said under her breath as she extracted the needle.

“Good job,” Y/n reassured her, “Penicillin’s fast acting. He should start to improve.”

“H-how do you know that?” Ellie asked, placing a worried hand on Joel’s forehead to test his fever.

The truth was, Y/n didn’t know anything. She was floating on a life raft in the middle of the ocean, adrift from any and all sense of safety. But she wanted to take solace in medicine, in the science of twenty years ago that a little dosage could stitch the body back together. She was choosing to believe.

“I don’t,” Y/n replied honestly, stroking Joel’s hair and peering up at Ellie, “But I have to have faith in something.”

“What, like the guy who wants to kill us?”

Y/n nearly bristled, “No, not exactly. I don’t believe everything happens for a fucking reason,” she looked back down at Joel, her lips quirking upwards briefly, “But some things…some things, definitely. And I don’t believe that we’d go through all the hell we have just to lose now…”

Ellie sighed, nervously rubbing her hands together as she watched Y/n tend to Joel. It came so easy to her guardian, to care for both her and the man who had abandoned her. Ellie’s walls remained so sky high, she wished that she could simply surrender to the warmth in her heart without fearing it as weakness.

She walked around to the other side of the mattress, sinking down onto its edge and laying down next to Joel. She carefully placed her hand on his chest and rested her head on his broad shoulder.

Y/n knew it was difficult for Ellie to open up, that the connection they’d formed back in Boston was like some eclipse that only came every hundred years. She’d watched Ellie slowly peel away at Joel’s defenses, until it was impossible for either to deny they cared about one another. Y/n wished desperately that Joel was awake to return the gesture, to encourage her vulnerability.

There wasn’t enough room on the mattress for all three of them, and Y/n didn’t dare ask Ellie to move an inch. Instead, she brought Joel’s hand up to his chest and laced her fingers through his. She rested her forehead just above his heart, the soft thudding against her skin filling her body with hope that he’d keep fighting. That he wouldn’t leave them.

Joel, slipping in and out of consciousness, wasn’t aware of much going on around him. But somewhere in his slumber, he could sense the warmth that was wrapped around him. He wasn’t chasing any white light, calling him home, but he chased the heat, leaning his head into it. He knew he was safe, so long as he could feel the warmth.

—————————

But there was no improvement the next day.

Joel’s wound had stopped bleeding, but his fever had yet to break.

Y/n knelt over Joel’s abdomen, sucking the second dose of penicillin into the syringe and injecting it. He didn’t so much as make a sound, that worried her.

Ellie sat on the edge of the bed and watched, waiting for some miraculous transformation to occur that would make Joel shoot straight up and return to his normal, grumpy self. If Y/n was honest with herself, her sleep-deprived mind was also waiting on something similar.

“Thought you said it was fast acting,” Ellie remarked, more bitter with the medication than Y/n.

“It is,” she answered, she was fucking exhausted, “But it’s not magic. He took a fucking…” Y/n let her hand fall against her lap, “Whatever it was. That doesn’t heal overnight.”

They didn’t want to say what they were both thinking.

“Come on,” Y/n sighed, rising to her feet with a groan, “Let’s go serve breakfast.”

The two of them filed out the garage, Y/n going to lift the squeaky door and Ellie carrying out a bucket. They gathered handfuls of the freshly fallen snow and brought it back to their horses, it was all they could offer them.

Y/n looked out on the neighborhood, her fingers nearly twitching in anticipation. They’d left tracks on their way back from the woods. If David decided to come after them, it might not be hard to find them. Then again, if he was a preacher, he could have subscribed to the believe that God might exact some sort of revenge on them rather than dirty his own hands.

“What are you thinking about?” Ellie asked, coming to stand by her side.

Y/n sighed, not wanting to consider dying any more. “How tired I am of fuckin’ snow.”

“You and me both,” Ellie remarked.

Without another word, Ellie leaned her head against Y/n’s shoulder. Y/n interlocked her fingers with the young girl’s and they stood in silence, drawing strength from one another.

A flock of crows cawing, flying away from something, broke their peace.

“Get back inside,” Y/n ordered, stepping into the street and following the direction the birds had fled from.

“No fuckin’ way,” Ellie argued, chasing after Y/n. It was wasted breath, telling her not to do something.

Y/n led them through a line of trees, staying low as they walked along a wooden fence. Through the shrubbery and snow, Y/n could spot several bodies a few hundred feet away and the tips of the rifles they carried.

David.

Neither of them dared to say a word, Y/n pushing Ellie backwards and hurriedly sneaking them back across the street to the house. They ran into the garage, quickly and quietly shutting the door behind them, before bolting through down to the basement.

“We gotta draw them away,” Ellie said, on the same wavelength as Y/n, “If they’re after him.”

“We ride back towards the university,” Y/n finished the thought, if there was a fight to be had, that was the best battleground.

Ellie slid across the basement’s floor, smacking Joel’s chest and shaking him by the arm, earning a gasp in return.

“Joel,” she urged, “Joel, wake up.”

“Joel,” Y/n called, she was already grabbing her rifle, “Joel, come on. Wake up!”

“He’s not fucking moving,” Ellie panicked, running off to her backpack.

Y/n took her place, grabbing Joel’s face in her hand, “Joel, I need you to fucking wake up. We need you. Now.”

Everything hit Joel’s ears as if he was underwater, three layers of sea between him and the words. The familiar voices were speaking urgently, in desperate tones. He found the strength to open his eyes, two tiny slits offering him a blurry view of Y/n.

“Keep them open, Joel,” Y/n urged, “Keep them open for me,”

Ellie returned with Joel’s knife, placing it in the hand across his chest, “Okay, okay, look at me. There are men coming, okay? We’re gonna lead them away from you, but if anybody makes it down here, you fuckin’ kill them. You got it?”

Joel’s eyes were beginning to glaze over again.

“Joel,” Y/n slapped his cheeks a few times, feeling him slipping from them, “Do not fall asleep right now. Stay the fuck awake.”

In the end, there was nothing else her or Ellie could do. David was coming and they had to act fast.

Y/n pressed a final, urgent kiss to Joel’s brow, before leaping to her feet with Ellie, praying that he was weakened rather than dead when they returned.

“We gotta block him in,” Y/n said as her and Ellie ran up the stairs, “Grab the china cabinet.”

The two of them maneuvered the hutch in front of the basement door, blockading the entrance as best they could. They ran out to the garage, quickly saddling both their horses and shoving the door back open.

“You ride in front of me the whole time,” Y/n ordered as she mounted her horse, “And if I go down, you don’t stop. You ride back to Tommy, got it?”

Ellie was ready to argue to the death on the point, “I-“

“You ride back to Tommy,” Y/n repeated, feeling the weight of what she was telling Ellie to do. It was the same one Joel had felt two days before.

Ellie rode out first, with Y/n bringing up her rear. She had her pistol off its holster and the rifle across her back, ready to do whatever necessary to keep Ellie and Joel alive.

They rode out the backyard, cutting past a few houses before coming out on the end of the street David and his men were creeping down.

“Hey, motherfuckers!” Ellie yelled just before her and Y/n began to fire. Ellie was shooting to warn, Y/n was shooting to kill.

As soon as the first bullets flew, making the men jump, Y/n and Ellie galloped off the same way they’d come from the university. Ellie listened and stayed ahead of Y/n as they rode. With each foot they gained, a new surge of determination flooded them both that they could make it. Y/n rotated on her horse and prepared to take another shot-

BANG! BANG!

One well timed bullet to Ellie’s horse sent the girl flying, landing harshly in the snow. The horse’s failed body tripped Y/n’s animal, she clutched the reins as she was thrown off, rolling into the snow as her spooked horse ran off.

“I got ‘em,” one of the men yelled.

“El,” Y/n grunted, belly crawling to Ellie, who managed to roll over onto her back. She was in a daze from the fall.

Y/n reached back for her rifle, scrambling to her feet as the crunch of boots began to surround her. She raised her gun at the first set of men, firing one bullet through one of their legs and sending him to the ground. She wasn’t quick enough to swing behind her and avoid the butt of one of their guns being driven into her head.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” the man muttered as Y/n fell.

It was a battle to stay awake through the dizziness, but Y/n managed to get to her knees, shielding the men from getting any closer to Ellie.

“Do it,” the same man who’d clubbed Y/n decided.

Even though they were her last moments, they didn’t feel like it to Y/n. She reached beside her to grab her pistol and cocked it. After twenty years of fighting, she wasn’t about to stop just because death and her were face to face. Not for Joel and certainly not for Ellie.

A shot fired into the air stopped the situation from escalating any further.

David came forward, standing over Y/n and Ellie. He cocked his head towards two of his men before Y/n, his disciples each grabbing one of Y/n’s arms and dragging her back.

“No,” she screamed, kicking wildly as David kneeled down beside Ellie and reached down to take her pulse, “Don’t you fucking touch her!”

David glanced up at Y/n, nearly amused by how aggravated she was. He removed his hand from Ellie, holding it up where she could see it. “Two of you with me,” he ordered, “Drag the horse,” he moved to pick Ellie up.

With all her strength, Y/n slammed her boot down onto one of her captor’s feet, causing his grip to loosen in the agony. She freed her arm and punched the second man at his temple, making him stumble backwards. “No!”

Y/n marched forwards, shoving David’s hands off of Ellie’s body, “She’s my fuckin’ kid.”

David watched every move, thoroughly evaluating the woman in front of him. He removed his hands and stood to his feet slowly, adhering to her demand.

Y/n brushed the loose strands of Ellie’s hair off her wet face, the sight of her unconscious nearly incapacitating Y/n with fear.

“The rest of you go door to door,” David continued his orders, “You so hungry for vengeance? Deliver it.”

Y/n’s head had barely turned before she caught herself. It was better for them to think Joel was up and about and that she had nothing to worry about. Internally, she felt fear spread to the very tips of her fingers.

David began to lead the way as Y/n lifted Ellie into her arms, beginning the two mile hike back to David’s community. She didn’t know what fate they were being marched towards, but she knew one thing.

She’d burn down the whole fucking town before she let anything happen to Ellie.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us imagine #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us spoilers #twenty years later

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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

Text

a woman's voice, i quickly ran

In The Woods Somewhere | Chapter One

Chapter Summary | Joel has been wandering for weeks, aimlessly listing through the forest as he scouts a new patrol path. He's gone much further than he needs, could easily turn back, which he almost does, until he stumbles across you and your coven of children, hiding out in the forest.

Chapter Warnings | Consumption of food, canon typical violence, descriptions of child death and dead bodies, mention of weapons, mention of religion, religious trauma, mention of a cult, swearing, child loss, allusions to controlling behaviour and domestic abuse, allusions to dirty thoughts but nothing explicit yet, age gap relationship in future chapters, no use of y/n.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 6.3K

Authors Note | Well, here we fucking go right? I definitely didn't need another WIP, but I seriously couldn't leave this one alone so here we are. Like I said on the masterlist drop, this is different from what I've written before. It's challenging me in the best way and I really cannot wait to share more with you. If you enjoy this then please consider reblogging, leaving comments or popping into my ask with your thoughts - I love hearing from you guys! And also consider leaving a tip on Ko-Fi if you enjoyed as well - I'm a poor student so anything really helps, but no pressure.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Joel’s boots sink into the ground underfoot. It rained last night. He’s thankful he managed to find an abandoned cabin along the way yesterday before the heaven’s opened. This walk would be even more miserable if his clothes had been soaked through as well. Every few steps his feet slip in the mud. He can already feel his ankles screaming at him to stop, but the sky above him is dark grey and threatening to rain once more, so he keeps walking, hoping there’s someone, somewhere looking down on him, taking pity, hoping he can find another cabin to spend the night in.

When he hears a distant rumble of thunder, he curses Tommy, out loud. He’s nowhere near Jackson now, having been convinced to take a scouting mission for this new route they’d stumbled across once the snows of winter had melted away. He feels like he’s been punished. Shunned from his own community. Even though his brain knows that’s not the case. He hasn’t spoken to Ellie in months, his chest constricting tightly when he thinks to her. He's no-one to blame but himself for where he is, but the Lord knows whatever he did, whatever he would continue to do for that girl, he’d do it all again given his second chance.

He can still see Tommy’s face when he came clean. The look of utter despair, the one chance they had at returning to normal, snatched away by Joel and his gun, and then the look of understanding that Joel had found his purpose again, found someone to give his love to. That’s why he’s here now, backpack laden with a singular change of clothes and his rations, rifle slung over his shoulder. Tommy thought some solitude would help. Help him come to terms with his new relationship, or lack thereof, with Ellie. Give him something to focus on. He still can’t help thinking that it was an excuse for him to be out of town for a few weeks, so that his scowling face didn’t make the children cry or the rest of the town avoid him.

When all is said and done, he misses her. He’d already lost one daughter, and through trying not to lose the other, that’s exactly what he’s done. Pushed her away. Alienated her. What he wouldn’t give to go back and hear those shitty puns again. Of course, in the back of his mind he knew this would happen, he just didn’t think it would be so soon. The only thing he would do differently about the years they’ve lived since they came back to Jackson, it would be to savour the moments he had with her, knowing they’d be gone all too soon.

He can feel his chest tightening. Not in the way it would when he’s exerted himself up a hill. In the way it happens when he feels things spiraling out of control. He rests a palm on the tree-trunk in front of him, other hand clutched to his heart as he closes his eyes and tries to calm him breathing. Ground himself. Count to ten. Think of things he can smell. Think of things he can hear. He’s focusing on the birdsong when he hears something else. Just as sweet as the chirping from the trees, but decidedly more human.

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are grey

Along with the singing, Joel can hear the telltale sound of children. He’s grown used to it since being in Jackson, hearing children enjoy themselves without having to worry about what happens outside of the walls that keep them safe. But there are no walls out here, only forest and danger, so the sound of children laughing is unsettling him, and he’s not really sure why. He pushes himself back from the tree, taking the rifle off his shoulder to rest in his arms as he takes tentative steps through the forest, careful not to step on anything that might give him away. He comes to stop near the front of the line of trees, letting his eyes adjust to the scene in front of him.

There’s a cabin, not unlike the one he’d spent the previous night in, situated in a small clearing. If he looks at it with his contractor eyes it’s pretty well built, solid and sturdy. But it’s not the cabin that he’s interested in, not really. His eyes are drawn to a woman, sitting on a bench that’s placed on the porch of the cabin, and more importantly, the small gaggle of children that are sitting around her. There are four of them, varying in age, two boys and two girls, who are sitting on the floor in front of the woman, who has stopped singing and is now reading aloud from a book that’s on her lap.

The voice that she speaks with is almost as lovely as the voice she sings with, and Joel finds himself leaning against the tree, letting the soft lilt of her voice soothe him. It’s a distant memory but it reminds him almost of his mother, when she’d read to him and Tommy before bed when they were young boys. He doesn’t know the story, can’t make out enough words to follow along, but that doesn’t matter.

He's watching intently as she closes the book on her lap and sets it down on the bench. He listens as she tells the children to go inside. She follows, guiding one of the older children with a hand on the back of his head. She’s only gone for a minute, then she’s back, this time with a shotgun clutched in her arms, much like the way he’s got his own rifle.

“You gonna be trouble?” She calls out, facing him directly, barrel of the gun trained into the trees where he’s stood.

He’s taken back by her observation skills. Joel had been careful to stay as still as he could, but somehow, she’d managed to spot him. He thinks to himself that it’s good, when she’s got children to care for.

“Don’t mean no harm,” He calls back, shouldering his rifle as he does, “Just lookin’ for somewhere to spend the night.”

He steps out of the tree line, hands raised in surrender to bring home his point. She keeps the gun trained on him though. Smart, he thinks, she doesn’t trust him. The sky above decides now, that after hours of threatening, to open, sending fat drops of rain onto the ground.

The woman points with the barrel of her shotgun for Joel to sit on the bench, under the cover of the porch, which he gladly does, grateful for the opportunity to take the weight off his aging ankles. Once he’s sat, he takes a moment to push the curls back from his head, water dripping from the ends, he also leans down to unlace his boots, relieving the pressure on his feet.

“How’d you find us?” She asks, still aiming the gun at him.

“How’s about you get that gun off me, and we’ll talk?” Joel asks, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s stopping you from attacking me once I do?”

“Probably the fact that my gun is there,” He motions to the pillar he’d rested his rifle on, out of reach unless he stands and takes steps to get it, “And those kids in there.”

“You got any other weapons on you?” She asks, Joel nods his head, because it’s true, he’s got a hunting knife in his backpack, “Can I search you?”

“Knock yourself out.” He murmurs in response.

She takes slow steps towards him, eyes not leaving his face as she kneels in front of him, fingers tracing the top of his boots for something concealed. She does the same up the leg of his jeans, trying to feel if he’s got anything hidden there, and then pats down his chest. Joel curses to himself at the way his heart jumps in his chest when her delicate hands touch him. Touch starved idiot, he thinks, he’s not had a woman touch him since Tess, and even that was more of a means to end.

She steps back from him, moving onto his backpack. She takes out his change of clothes, unfolds them to make sure he’s not keeping anything hidden there, but then folds them back up which Joel thinks is curious. She finds the hunting knife buried just below his clothes. She takes it out and inspects it, but doesn’t pocket it for herself, just rests it on top of his folded clothes. Finally, she rustles through his rations – some bags of dried fruit and jerky mostly. He'd been trying to catch fresh meat on the way so there’s still plenty left. Once she’s satisfied Joel has nothing else to hide, she repacks his bag for him, before standing back, gun still in hand but not trained directly to his face anymore.

“Where did you come from?” She asks, leaning against the porch fence.

“I’m from a commune, few weeks walks from here,” He answers honestly, “We noticed a new route out when the snow melted so I’m just scouting it out, makin’ sure there ain’t nothing to cause us trouble,” He looks at the woman now, directly in the eye, “You gonna be trouble for us?”

He’s teasing really, because what threat could one woman and four children pose to Jackson? But she doesn’t take it that way, Joel catching the way her fingers twitch on the trigger.

“Depends,” She speaks, “You gonna be trouble for us?”

“Doubt it,” He shrugs, “We won’t come out this far when we patrol.”

“Then why are you out here at all?”

Ah, yes, the million-dollar question. He really could have gone back a week ago. Once he’d walked as far as he would on his normal patrols, he could have called it and gone back, but there’s something about the solitude here that he enjoys. He also thinks he’s avoiding going back to his miserable existence now. Doesn’t want to live in a place where Ellie ignores him, where she walks past his house without acknowledging him.

“Guess I just like the outdoors.”

She raises her eyebrows at him but seems to accept his answer. The rain is pouring now, soaking the ground again and if there’s one thing he doesn’t want to do right now, it’s trekking through the storm to find someplace else to shelter.

“You mind if I say?” He asks, “Just until the storm passes.”

He watches her closely as she thinks, finally taking a moment to really take her in. She’s young, probably in her early thirties if he was to guess. She’s wearing a white dress, or it would have been white once upon a time. The long hemline is covered in dirt, ghosting along worn work boots. The dress has long sleeves, and the neckline is cut just enough to be enticing but not indecent. He wonders where the hell she’s come from. There are scars that pepper her face, one that cuts across her top lip and another that slashes through her left eyebrow. They look old and healed and he can see another mark on the skin around her throat – perhaps not a scar, more of a burn, that traces around the entirety of that delicate throat. He knows she’s been through something; it must be what’s made her so smart. She is, quite possibly, the most beautiful thing he’s seen. Like an angel, dressed in white, ethereal. He feels depraved in this moment, thinking of all the ways he might break her.

“You stay out here,” She says firmly, “And you don’t speak to the children, understand?”

“Understood.”

She nods, pushing herself back from the railings beneath her back, “I’ll bring some food out later.”

Joel watches as she moves away, murmuring a quiet thank you to her as she disappears back into the cabin, shutting the door behind her. He hears a lock click a moment later and he smiles. This woman knows exactly what she’s doing.

You settle the children at the table a few hours later. You dish servings of the stew you’d made over the fire into bowls and give each of them a glass of water. You turn your back on them when they clasp their hands together, bowing their heads in a silent prayer like they’ve always done. Like they were conditioned to do. You don’t join in. Instead, you take two bigger bowls, filling one for yourself and then the other for the mystery man out there. His portion is bigger. If he’d been surviving on dried rations and whatever he could catch, you think he must be starving. You’re not sure why you care so much, but you think it has something to do with the way you were raised. Before the world went to shit, your parents had always given guests the biggest portion of food, this is just something you carry with you.

When you turn around the children are eating their food. They’re slow, knowing they can savour what they eat now. They don’t have a master who takes their bowls away once he’d finished, no matter how much they had left. They’re quiet too, something they’re still yet to unlearn. Children are to be seen and not heard. You’d told them in the months after that you loved hearing them, the joy they let out when you taught them how to play properly. You’d insisted no-one was going to beat them again for speaking too loudly, but some lessons are harder than others to unlearn.

“Who is that man?” Thomas, the oldest boy asks quietly.

“He’s just passing through,” You smile, ruffling the hair on his head as you pass, “He’ll be gone by the morning.”

“He won’t hurt us?” He asks, and your heart breaks a little, because what do you say?

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly, dipping to press a kiss to the crown of his head, “I keep us safe though, don’t I?” He nods in response, “Then I’ll keep us safe tonight, now finish your dinner, I’ll be back in a little while.”

You set your bowl down on the corner table by the door, unlocking it with one hand before picking up your bowl again. The man from earlier is still sat on the bench, exactly where you’d left him, except now he’s got a book perched on his lap, which you notice is the one you’d been reading to the children earlier. He looks up, closing the book as you offer him his own bowl.

“It’s not much,” You speak softly, sitting in the small chair across from the bench, “It’s squirrel, the meat.” You inform him as he starts pushing his spoon through the meal.

“Thank you,” Is all he says as he lifts the spoon to his mouth, “How long have you been livin’ here?”

You chew your own mouthful of food, realizing quickly that the anxiety in your stomach at someone you don’t know being in your space means you don’t really want to eat anything, the meat and vegetables settling like lead when you swallow. Better to be out here and keep an eye on him though.

“Couple’a months,” You offer, pushing the food around in your bowl, “We’ve moved around a bit.”

“Ever get any trouble?” He asks, shoveling another spoonful of stew into his mouth.

You take a small bite of your own food, chewing it more times than is necessary before you struggle to swallow it down, “Not really,” You answer, “Few people come through, but the shotgun usually means they move on, I think the children help,” You shrug, “World might have gone to shit but people don’t wanna kill kids these days.”

You’re still trying to convince yourself to eat your food when the man in front of you sets his empty bowl on the floor. You look down into the stew, taking another bite making you feel like you might be sick, so you extend the bowl to him.

“No, thank you,” He holds his hand up, “That’s yours.”

“I ate earlier,” You lie, “Please, it’ll just go to waste.”

You can see him battle with himself a little, but ultimately his stomach wins, so he takes the bowl and finishes off your portion in silence, setting his old bowl inside this one once he’s finished. The light has faded fast, it’s still pouring with rain so there’s no chance he’s going to move off tonight. You stand, bending to take the bowls from between his feet.

“I’ll find you a blanket,” You speak quietly as you open the door, “You’ll be more comfortable that way.”

Inside, the children have finished their food and have started to clear up. Another hangover from where you’d been before. Thomas takes the bowls from your hand and gives them to Clara, just a year younger than he is. She places them in the bucket of water in front of the fire and starts to scrub as you root around in the ottoman by the couch. There’s only one blanket in there that you think will be big enough for him and it’s threadbare, but better than nothing you think. Whoever he is, he’s old, or older than you at least, so you take two cushions from the sofa, if his back is anything like yours, he’ll need them.

He's back to reading the book when you take them out to him. This time, he doesn’t close it, just looks up with a smile and says thank you as you place them at the end of the bench. You turn to head back inside.

“I’ll be gone once the sun rises,” He speaks, “Thank you, you’re a very kind girl.”

You scoff a little, thinking if only you knew what I’d done. You smile at him instead, you want to tell him it was nice to meet him, nice to meet a man who doesn’t seem to have ulterior motives, but what would be the point? He’ll be gone in the morning and you’ll be back to keeping your children safe. You say nothing. Leave him on the porch and lock the door. It’s for the best.

Joel doesn’t sleep. He spends his night upright on the porch, rifle over his lap, surveying the tree line in front of the cabin. Every now and then he stands, walking around, because his good ear can only pick so much out. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to stand guard, he wasn’t asked to. You’ve gotten under his skin. He’s been around you less than twelve hours, he doesn’t even know your name, doesn’t know who these children are to you, what you’ve been through, but still feels the need to keep you safe.

The rain had stopped some time ago, just after he noticed the lights inside the cabin go out. It makes hearing things easier, now he’s not trying to make out sounds over the roar of the weather. It’s unsettling though. A few times he thinks he’s heard something amongst the trees, the snapping of twigs and such, but it could easily be an animal. He doesn’t want to risk wandering off into the woods to figure out what it is, because if it is humans, his absence means you and your children are an easy target.

He's sat back on the porch when he hears it. The unmistakable sounds of someone cocking their gun. He’s too slow to react. The sound of the gun firing fills his ears and then the shattering of glass behind him. The bullet piercing through the window behind him. He jumps up, realizing whoever it is out there must have been aiming at him. He readies his rifle, eyes scanning the tree’s for movement. He’s stood with his back to the door, aiming his gun out, waiting for whoever is out there to give away their position when the door is yanked open, you’re stood there with your shotgun.

“Get inside.” He hisses, trying to gently push at your shoulder.

“I haven’t needed your help so far,” She spits back, as another bullet ricochets off the wall of the cabin, they’re definitely aiming at you both, “Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” He whispers, trying to figure out exactly where they’re firing from, “If you’re gonna stay out here, you need to be quiet.”

You scoff at him, as if you’d been making a ton of noise anyway, but then another bullet sounds, bouncing off the wall near your head and you let out a yelp, finally realizing you’re terrified. The man, whose name you still don’t know, grips the top of your arm and pushes you back inside the cabin, following behind you as he slams the door shut.

You watch as he pulls the couch away from the window that had been shot through. He points his rifle out of it and pulls the trigger and you think you can hear someone cry out into the night. Good riddance you think, as you watch him reload his gun. You turn around at the sound of a creaking door, finding Thomas and Clara and the two younger children, Edward and Isabel, clearly frightened by what was happening. You drop your shotgun on the table, rushing over to kneel in front of them. They crowd into your arms, Isabel is crying so you try and soothe her as much as possible.

“What’s happening?” Edward asks.

“There are some bad men outside who want to hurt us,” You answer simply, you’ve tried never to sugarcoat things with them, “But it’s okay,” You try and smile, “Because we’ve got someone looking after us.”

You turn just in time to watch your guest shoot again. It continues like this for what feels like forever, someone outside shoots towards the cabin and then he shoots back, until it’s silent. You watch as the man stays still, but there aren’t any other shots that ring out. You let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. You were safe.

“Back into there,” You tell the children, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

They do as they’re told, heading back into their bedroom. You close the door and turn around as the man in front of you is finally lowering his gun. You both take a moment to look at each other, chests heaving and adrenaline flooding through your veins.

“Thank you,” You speak softly, walking up to him, “I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

“Probably not been attacked,” He grumbles, “I think it was me outside that made them think there was somethin’ worth takin’.”

“Still,” You place a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you.”

“You can’t stay here,” He says suddenly, “All those gunshots mean infected, I can’t keep you safe enough if they’re gonna start swarmin’.”

“We don’t have anywhere else to go,” You panic, feeling bile rise up in your throat, it had taken you months to find safety like this, and now you had to give it up, “Where are we going to go?”

“There’s another cabin, just a few hours walk away,” He explains, “I stayed there the night before I came here, same kinda thing, and far enough away to be safer, but we have to go now.”

You take a moment to think. You don’t know this man. Sure, he’s just killed people to keep you safe, but maybe this is all part of some master plan, lure you away, take the children from you, force you back into a life you don’t think you’d survive second time around. The alternative though isn’t much better. You stay here and what? You’re overrun by clickers, get torn apart by infected and if they don’t get the children, what becomes of them? When you think about it like this, there is really only one option, and that is trust this man in front of you.

“If I’m going to trust you, I need to know your name.”

“Joel.”

You return the favour quickly, telling him your name, before turning to go to the children. They’re sat together on one bed, comforting each other. You kneel in front of the bed, placing soothing hands wherever you could reach.

“The bad men are gone,” You speak softly, “But it was really loud which means it isn’t safe to stay here anymore, so the man out there is going to take us somewhere safer.”

“How do we know he’s a nice man?” Thomas asks.

“Well, he kept us safe, didn’t he?” You offer, “He didn’t have to help us like that, but he did, so I think that makes him nice, doesn’t it?”

They nod, but you know they would do anything you asked them to do, without question. There isn’t much to pack, you didn’t have much to begin with, but you ask them to gather the small bags you’d found for them along the way and fill it with what they would need. When you head back to the main room, Joel is still posted near the window, keeping an eye out for whatever dangers might be waiting to greet you when you leave.

You find your backpack and make sure it’s filled with everything you might need. It’s still got most of your essentials in it, perhaps you’d always thought this place wouldn’t be forever. You fit a few of the books in that the children love the most before putting it on, gathering the small knife from the table, setting it in your boot and then picking up your shotgun, just in time for the children to emerge with their own bags.

Joel turns around, “Okay, we need to be quick,” He speaks softly, aware that the children must be frightened, “And really quiet, okay?”

They nod, as do you, then he’s opening the door and leading the way. You don’t bother closing the door behind you. You just motion for the children to follow behind Joel. Isabel and Edward are holding hands, just like they always do, Clara and Thomas just a few steps behind them. The sun has started to rise, painting your surroundings in pale light as you start to move quietly behind them all. Then, it all goes wrong. You’re not entirely sure what happens past hearing another gunshot and one of the children screeching.

Joel whips around and trains his gun from where the sound had come from, firing a shot right into the man who was heading right towards you. You scream and step back before you look to your children. Edward is stood with his hand clutched to his side, blood seeping through his shirt and his hand. You barely have time to catch him before he falls. His tiny body is shaking in your arms, as you try and move his hand away from the wound. He cries out in pain when you try and move him.

“I know baby, I know,” You try and soothe, your own tears clouding your vision as you manage to move his hands away, “You gotta let me see, okay?”

When his hands do move, you can already tell there’s nothing you can do. Blood is pooling on the ground, seeping through the white material of your dress as you try and put pressure on it, which causes more pained cries to leave his mouth. You must get him up, you have to move him somewhere you can look at him better.

“We gotta get you up, okay?” You ask him, quickly brushing your tears away from your face as you try and hoist him up, but it’s no use, the screams of pain are more than you can bare.

You let him drop back to the ground, still trying to stem the bleeding when you notice that he’s stopped shaking and his crying has stopped. No. No no no no no.

“Edward?” You ask, shaking his shoulder, “Edward!” This time it’s louder, mor hysterical as your sobs rack your body. He can’t be dead. Not after everything you’d done, “Please, baby, come back to me,” You beg, “I can keep you safe, please just come back.” You cry into his bloodied body, knowing it’s no use, he’s gone.

You let out another sob as you clutch his small body to yours, rocking him back and forth like you used to when you were trying to get him to sleep, tears falling down your face and onto the ground. Then, a strong palm slips onto your shoulder which makes you jump, “We have to go.” Is all Joel says, trying to get you to stand with an arm on your elbow.

“I c-can’t leave h-him here.” You choke out through sobs.

“Give him to me,” Joel insists, taking Edward’s lifeless body from your arms, helping you to stand, “I’ll carry him.”

You don’t know why but you start to wipe at the blood on your dress, it’s seeped into the material so there’s no way you’ll ever get it out, but it’s something to focus on that isn’t Edward being dead. For the first time in years, you don’t look at the other children as you start to follow behind Joel once more. You know their faces would break you, would cause you to fall to your knees and not get up again. The three of them walk side-by-side in front of you again. Silent, but you can tell they’re crying from the way their shoulders are shaking. Isabel is in the middle of Thomas and Clara, each of them clutching one of her hands as they struggle to keep up with Joel’s pace as he walks through the dense forest.

You think you walk for hours, quietly crying as you do. You stop once, Joel walking off away from you whilst you sit with the children that are left, letting them sip from the canteen of water whilst you all catch your breath. You know he does it so none of you have to lay your eyes on Edward’s dead body. You make yourself as small as possible, knees to your chest, to try and hide the worst of the bloody stains on your dress. All too soon, Joel is whistling to you, telling you that it’s not much further.

By the time you reach the cabin, the sun is already starting to set. Joel motions his hand for you to go inside ahead of him which you do, guiding Thomas, Clara and Isabel in before you go. Joel stays outside as you get them settled on the dusty couch inside.

“What happened to Edward?” Isabel asks, her eyes wide as you crouch in front of them.

You take hold of her small hands, “I’m sorry baby,” You sigh, “Edward is gone.” You can feel the lump in your throat, you try to bite your emotion back for their sake.

“Where has he gone?” She asks.

You open and close your mouth, trying to find the right words. Trying not to rip up wounds from the past that you’d only just managed to close with them.

“Well baby, he’s gone somewhere else,” You sigh, “You remember before, when we lost people, and we were always told they went to heaven?” The three children nod at you, “I know we don’t believe that, but he’s somewhere better now.”

“And he won’t come back?”

“No baby,” You coo, running your hand over her hair, “But we’ll see him again someday, I promise.”

You press a kiss to each other their foreheads, opening your backpack to pull out one of their books. You hand it to Thomas so he can read to the other girls before you head outside. You can see Joel near the line of trees, he’s digging with a shovel and your chest constricts at the sight. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. Edward deserved to grow old. You’re angry. You want to scream. You want to strike your fists into something until all you feel is the physical pain, because that’s easier, it’s an easier pain to the one you feel right now.

Joel turns as you stand still at the door, he tilts his head, ushering you over to him. Your body follows the direction, like you always had before. A man tells you to do something, you do it.

“I didn’t know if you wanted to bury him,” He speaks softly, “But if you do, it’s ready.”

You can feel your bottom lip tremble so you bite down on it, hoping the pain stops you from crying, but it’s useless, you still can’t comprehend that he’s gone, despite the fact his body is wrapped in a filthy sheet next to the grave Joel has dug. He deserves so much better than this. You can’t help but take it as a personal failure. You’d vowed to keep them safe, and you’d failed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” He murmurs, letting a hand rest lightly on your shoulder which you shudder away from, “I’ll give you some time, just place him down and I’ll do the rest when you’re ready.”

He walks away, but not into the house, you notice. Maybe he still thinks the children are frightened of him. He walks around the side of the cabin as your focus moves back to the shroud in front of you. You drop to your knees, delicate hands rolling the top of the shroud down to reveal his face. His eyes are closed, and you can almost convince yourself that however he died it was peaceful. His skin is pale and mottled, lips blue. A tear drips from your face and onto his, clearing a trail down his cheek as it moves through the dirt. You lean forward, kissing his forehead, running a hand through his hair like you did each night to soothe him.

“I’m sorry baby,” You whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

You stay like this for a moment, forehead pressed to his. You can’t bare it anymore, pulling back and covering his face, but there’s something stopping you from lowering him into the ground. Then it’s final. You won’t be able to see his face again, listen to his voice when he talks or smile when he laughs. You turn, finding Joel hanging back.

“I can’t do it,” You mutter, “Will you?”

He nods, walking over to you. He doesn’t try and touch you this time, just bends and picks Edward up before placing him lightly into the grave. He stands, putting his hand to the shovel, you decide you can’t watch anymore, turning your back on the scene behind you to go back to the family you still have.

Darkness has enveloped the outdoors. The children have been in bed for a while, after Joel handed out the remainder of his measly rations to everyone. You wish you could convince yourself to sleep, but moving from the couch seems like too much work right now. You’re numb. Joel is sat at the other end of the couch, letting the small fire he set warm him through. The silence is deafening.

“You wanna talk about it?” His gruff voice asks.

You’re biting at the end of your nail, crying again. Your body is aching, dress covered in dry blood. You wish you could wake up from whatever horrible nightmare this is. You finally shake your head, biting at your lip as you do.

“I don’t think I can.”

There’s another beat of silence before Joel speaks again, “I know you don’t wanna think about it right now,” He sighs, “But Jackson, where I live, it’s safe.”

“Is anywhere really safe these days?” You scoff.

He nods his head, “Y’know, that’s what I thought when I got there, but it works,” He shrugs, “My brother, he sorta helps run it, big walls, everyone chips in where they can, take turns patrollin’, I’ve been there two years now and nothin’ bad’s ever happened.”

“So, you’re communists then?”

Joel can’t help but laugh, thinking about the existential crisis Tommy had when Ellie had suggested the same thing, “Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

You sigh, because it’s starting to sound like a good idea. A place where you’d be shut in, protected by people. Where the children could actually be children. You’re still not convinced you trust him though. Sure, he’d protected you. Helped you to safety. Carried Edward’s dead body all the way here, but you’re still convinced it’s some kind of sick joke at your expense. You could be walking headfirst into a trap.

“It’s okay,” He murmurs, “I don’t expect you to trust me, it’s going to take time, but just follow me, even for a while, we’ll go slowly back that way, anytime you wanna leave, you can.”

“I can’t think about this right now,” You snap, “Can we just have some time?”

He gives you a small smile, “Of course, all the time you need, I ain’t in a rush to get back.”

Exhaustion floods your body, eyes becoming heavy, as the final ounces of adrenaline finally leave your body.

“Take the room,” Joel offers, “I can sleep out here.”

“You slept on a wooden bench last night,” You fight, “And I’m younger, I can sleep out here.”

“I didn’t sleep at all,” He counters, “So it don’t matter where I lie, I’m gonna be fast asleep in minutes.”

“You’re sure?” You ask, lifting your heavy bones from the couch.

“Go.” He nods his head towards the closed door to the second bedroom.

“Goodnight.” You speak softly, picking up your backpack to take into the room with you. You’re asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Taglist: @morning-star-joy @tightjeansjavi @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @darkroastjoel @dinsdjrn @sinsofsummers @montenegroisr @millenial-teenybopper @casa-boiardi @pedrotonin @punkshort @givemeth @noisynightmarepoetry @joeldjarin

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 2 years

Text

Danny at the tender age of 23, has had a bad month. He had just lost his job as an interpreter with his company due to rejecting the advances of one of the older female bosses and his landlord was trying to screw him over on rent.

It honestly surprised him when he woke up one day with his wrists bound in front of him and trapped in a tube. He had been out of the hero game since the portals closed up years ago and Vlad lost his powers, so it had been a while since the whole "kidnapping" thing had happened to him.

He looked out through the glass of the tube as he turned intangible to let the IV needles fall out of his arms. There luckly wasn't any glowing green goo in the tube with him, but he doubts it will stay that way long as the scientists outside his containment chatted happily about "the discovery of the decade!" Ick.

He waits till they're gone before turning intangible slipping out of his tube and heading straight for the computer. He knew how to hack, but he was low on time and needed to know exactly what was going on, so some ghostly meddling with electronics were necessary. Sorry Tuck.

It was at this moment he found out several things.

1. Danny had apparently been here for several months instead of the few days he had initially assumed

2. He was found somewhere in his own thermos, asleep. Luckily they haven't been able to replicate any technology from it.

3. Superheros were a very real thing now. How long had he been asleep?

4. He had been cloned. Again. But this time he had someone else's DNA mixed in with the clones to make them more stable and intelligent. Some guy named Red Robin. Huh. Was that his real name or...?

Danny took a deep breath before locating his new clone kids. Ellie would be thrilled...if she was still around that is. He could think about that later, right now he had to grab his babies-and oh ancients- they were babies! The oldest of the three looked four years old at most and the youngest looked only a few hours. He was still all pink and alien looking.

Luckily his children didn't fight him when he picked them up and flew through the walls with them. He made a mental note to teach them stranger danger when he came across a large red button.

You won't believe what it was labeled as. Yep. A self destruct button. How cliché. Whatever. He pushed it and sirens immediately started to go off and he continued flying them through walls before exited into a dark gothic city he knew Sam would immediately love.

Somehow he managed to immediately land a job as a linguist for Wayne tech. Probably thanks to the three small kids he had and the panicked look on his face. Bruce was a really chill dude.

Batman however, was a prick. He met the guy weeks after his run in with Bruce and he kept popping up after he found out the clone babies were partially from one of his birds and trying to take custody away from him or convince him to give them up. Danny retaliated by spreading the rumor/truth that his kids where Red Robins from creepy cloning scientists that kidnapped him before immediately moving out of Gotham and into Fawcett City to work for a competitors company. This way Red couldn't legally go after him for custody without revealing his identity :)

This is how Red Robin, at the tender age of 25, learned he had kids with a man named Daniel Nightengale. Not only that, Bruce knew about them and didn't tell him.

Danny made it clear that if any of the Gotham Rouges tried to follow him and harm his kids they would come back missing a hand. Joker found out the hard way that he wasn't bluffing.

Shazams old guy mentor almost has an aneurysm when he senses the freaking GHOST KING living in Fawcett. Danny is also much more powerful then ever before and accidentally made the power go out in half the city when he got truly angry with Batman.

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #time drake #red robin #poor tim #the nightengale idea wasnt mine #but i love it and believe it should be the fentons go to for identity problems #tim wants to meet his kids #danny is superdad #ever listened to Mr. mom?#danny is the mom from that song and i fully support him #the batfam all lose thier minds #shazam doesnt know what to think of danny #danny is worlds best dad #long post

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c0ld0utside · 3 months

Note

hey don’t push yourself to post a work every day, you’ll get brunt out. Go at your own pace, we’ll wait :)

also, have you thought of a human father with a monster child? Like he just grabbed a monster off the street lmao

OHOHO I LOVE THIS IDEA- And you're too kind tysm ;-;

Warnings: Child abandonment (Circle of life scenario), Reader unknowingly eats weed raw, Reader gets chased, Reader accidentally knocks themself out, Kidnapping, Reader gets tied up, Reader just has a lot of oopsie-daisies in general, Obsessive, Possessive, Delusional and Ignorant behavior

“***” means POV swap! Gonna try these out in this story.

Growing up, you never thought about the day you had to “leave the nest.” Sure, it was a thing that your species did, but you never thought about it too much. …Until you hit a certain age.

You still remember it all. The rain was pouring down hard and making you shiver. You called out to your parent, whining about wanting to return home, but they pressed forward and expected you to follow. So you did. You walked for hours, feet getting covered in mud and feeling icky. The two of you reached some black river with white dots in the middle, going in a perfectly straight line.

Your parent turned to you, said that you were old enough to take care of yourself, that you weren’t allowed to come back, and that they wished you well. They left you there. You tried to follow them, tried to track their scent, tried begging and pleading and calling, but you never found them. Somehow, you managed to find the black river again, and you followed it.

You followed it for a long time, only stopping during the day so you wouldn’t be seen. At night you stuck to the shadows, trying not to get scared when one of the husks roared past you, bright yellow eyes lighting up the darkness for a few moments. The smell it left behind was always awful. You lost count of the days, and at one point you thought you came across a forest fire, only to find that it was the sunlight reflecting on several somethings in tall structures.

You know now that the “black river” is called a road, and that the weird loud husks humans travel in are called “cars.” You’ve grown used to the smells and the loud noises. You’ve also learned that living in human environments got you free food since the morons just threw the stuff out. Like, come on, why would you dump an edible “burger” over some pickles? Just take ‘em out!

Hiding your appearance, on the other hand, was harder. Your horns were coming in and from what you’ve seen, humans don’t have those, or naturally brightly colored irises and star-like pupils. …Or tails. Or pointed ears. Just your luck, though! Some guy forgot to lock the backdoor into the mall, and the shops you “borrowed” from were out of the cameras’ view.

Finding a home was hard, too. It took a lot of trial and error, but you eventually found a good spot in an abandoned building after scaring a few squatters. They even left their blankets and strange leaves behind. You found out the hard way that those leaves are not good for you, especially after coughing them back up out the window. But hey, it’s all trial and error. Just like your parent said it would be.

You’re comfortable, living in the abandoned home with ratty blankets and a mattress. Sneaking around the city after dark to snack on the unwanted leftovers thrown in trash cans. “Borrowing” shiny things off of people while they weren’t looking. Like that one guy’s watch, or that girl’s bracelet. Or some kid’s fidget ring. You even have a few things called “wallets.” Humans make interesting things, you’ve come to find.

Like money.

Money, you’ve come to find, makes it so you don’t have to dig wasted food out of the garbage. You’ve managed to get some new clothes as well, which was a relief because your horns are very noticeable now without a beanie, and they ripped a hole in your old one. You had a hard time throwing it away, but the new one you have is the best thing you’ve ever gotten. You even bought a few things called “pins” to decorate it with.

The issue with money, however, is that it runs out quick, and getting more is harder than getting food. Which brings you back to your collection of empty wallets. You don’t want to go back to digging food out of garbage cans, trying to find scraps that were clean enough to eat. Your blankets are worn to shit, too. So, eating the last of your food and slipping your beloved beanie on, you head out of your abandoned home and into the city.

***

A man in his late twenties enters the shop, and he cheerfully says “Hello” back to the greeter. “What you looking for, Tim?” The greeter asks, recognizing the regular. “Pins,” He replies simply. “I’m getting bored of the ones I have.”

The greeter nods slightly. “Well, we got some new ones recently. Maybe you’ll like one of those.” She offers. The two exchange friendly smiles and Tim heads over to the pin basket, giving it a once over before starting to dig through it. He plucks out a Mothman one. A bit standard, he knows, but it’s adorable and Tim likes it so that’s that.

Tim plucks out a few more monster pins and a few goofy animal ones, like a spider pin with the words “I cry from every eye” printed on it and a duck with a knife. Satisfied with his haul that only costs around fifteen bucks, Tim looks up and spots the best thing he’s ever seen in his entire life. It’s just a keychain with a ghost plush, but it’s probably the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his life and he needs it. It even has a little smile on its face. A smile. It’s so precious and tiny and he just wants to hold it in his palms and dub it “Bartholomew the First.”

So he feels less alone.

Tim frowns at the sudden thought. Yeah, he’s a loner. Yes, he has friends, but they’re more work buddies and classmates than anything. He’d like to get a pet, something funky like a ferret or a rat or a lizard. But no, his landlord says no pets, so no pets for Tim. He’s always been sympathetic to others, having a lot of love to give but no one close to share it with. People from the past always found him odd because of it, but never told him why. Never told him what to do instead.

He knows he’s not alone. Most people want someone to care about them, and most people want someone to care for. Because no one really wants to be alone. Especially not him. So why does everyone treat him funny? How can he make it better? The kids don't think he's weird. They love it when he babysits. Please just-

Tim’s snapped out of his thoughts when he feels something slip out of his back pocket. A teen wearing a beanie with a rabid possum and “peace was never an option” duck pin on it quickly leaves the store, brushing past him. It takes him a few seconds, but he puts two and two together and rushes over to the greeter.

“Kathy hold onto these please some brat just took my money,” Tim says in a rush, shoving the items into her hands before booking it out of the shop. Kathy stands there, a bit stunned and processing what just happened. With a sigh, she heads over to the register and buys the pins and keychain.

“Don’t you already have that one?” One of her coworkers asks, squinting at the spider pin.

“I’m buying it for Tim. Some kid just took his wallet.” Kathy explains, blushing slightly at the teasing glance her coworker gives her.

***

This guy is stubborn. So stubborn, it’s scary. Scarier than that one wolf that would not stop chasing you after you got too close to its pups. It was an accident and you wish your parent was here to charge through the street and intercept the damn guy who’s still chasing you. Like they did with the wolf.

You know your parent had some love for you because they listened to your screams and begs and let the poor thing go. They also immediately scolded you for the whole thing afterward. Reckless, stupid little joey, poking around where they shouldn’t be. Just go back home and stay there. Food will come, I’ll bring some back.

Running away from the threat is harder, too. Especially when you have to shove and weave past hordes of people who are either really slow or just aren’t paying attention. It feels suffocating. Claustrophobic. You can’t get out and you can’t take a moment to breathe. You can’t give this up though, you need it.

I wish you were still here. I wish things were different. I wish I could’ve stayed.

Without a second thought, you round the corner and scramble up the old fire escape, throwing yourself through the open dirtied window and tumbling into your blankets. Safe, safe, safe, your mind chants. You’re safe. You lost him. You got your money, so you won’t need to get your hands dirty. You pull your beanie off of your head. It was starting to feel uncomfortable on your head and make your horns ache.

There’s a clang outside, and a few muffled curses. Wait. What. What? You immediately stand up, pocketing the “borrowed” wallet. A familiar scent wafts into your nose- sweat and palm leaves. Funny for a guy who’s a regular at the most “teenage angst” store you’ve ever been in. The man from before hops through the window and dusts himself off. His gaze screams murder as he looks up at you.

…Only to fall the moment he spots your odd eyes and horns that are starting to curl.

Okay. Okay. Stay calm. The dude managed to track you home. He’s a human- he’s weaker. He has no defense. Do what your parent taught you.

Like a stag, you take a defensive stance and show off your horns. Don’t wanna get hit with these. They’ll hurt really bad. Go away, please. Wait- please? No! Go away now!

You expect the guy to get the memo and leave.

Instead, he coos at you.

***

Tim was wrong. The creature was the most cutest, precious thing he’s ever seen. “Awwwww, look’t you!” He coos, relaxing and taking a friendly stance. “Wait hold on- no, this could be a cosplay. This is a cosplay, isn’t-”

He yelps as the creature charges, narrowly moving out of the way. Its horns slam into the wall and when it pulls away, there’s a noticeable dent and cracks in it. The beast grunts, teeth flashing in a snarl. Fangs with some flat teeth. Its tail slips out of its hiding place and lashes angrily.

Tim kneels, holding his hand out and trying to How To Train Your Dragon his way out of this. “Hey buddy, it’s alright. I just need my wallet back. Can I have it, please?” He asks sweetly, making a small motion with his hand. "We can talk about this. I can help."

Tim frowns when it hisses at him, an idea blooming in his head. When the monster charges again, he moves to the side and wraps his arms around them. “Easy, easy, aw…it’s alright. Shhhh…”

“LET ME GO!” The creature screams, making him pause. It can speak? It sounds young, too. Tim glances around the room, taking in the empty bags of chips and other generally bad stuff that kids eat without a second thought. He notices the ratty blankets and worn, moldy mattress on a broken bedframe.

“...How old are you?” Tim asks, tone full of pity. He winces when he feels claws dig and scratch at his arms, but doesn’t let go. “Ow- hey, it’s okay, I can help you. Let me help you.” The creature doesn’t give up, continuing to struggle. He feels his grip slipping, and he has to take several steps back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa- hey, chill out-!”

The creature breaks free and slams into a wall.

***

When you wake up you know you’re not in your home. It doesn’t smell rancid and there are soft, silky textures brushing against you. Your head in resting on something soft and fluffy. The smell of palm trees is everywhere, and the world seems brighter. The noise is still there, though.

Outside, a car’s horn goes off repeatedly, resulting in you shifting around and trying to bury your head in the soft object.

…Your hands are bound. So are your legs. The softness rubs against you. It’s a new sensation, one you aren’t used to. The smell gets stronger and you start to panic. So, like any scared joey, you start to call out for your parent.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” You hear the man call. You hear him head over and enter the room, immediately joining your side. He starts to rub your back gently, shushing you. Stop it- stop it- you try to protest but he interrupts you. “I know, I know. It’s all new and confusing. But it’s okay! I’ll take care of you now. Don’t worry, I know you’re not a pet. You’re…uh…well, I don’t know, but you’re a person.”

“Oh, don’t cry, it’s okay. I’m helping. I had to tie you up ‘cause I didn’t want you to hurt yourself again! It’ll be okay, I promise. No more of that nasty stuff for you.”

“I know you’re scared, but look at it this way! You’re not alone anymore! And now I’m not alone either. I wanna guess you’re…what? Seventeen? Y’know, most humans think you’re an adult when you hit eighteen, but I think twenty-one is more reasonable. No “teen” in “twenty-one,” is there?”

I was actually thinking of this while writing the werewolf story! And I gave “Dad” a name this time. Speaking of which, I feel like giving the other guys names. Is there a way to vote on it or something? I want to hear your guys’s ideas

I will definitely add onto this as well.

You're looking spectacular today! Drink water! Eat something that isn't chips! SLEEP!

#yandere #platonic #platonic yandere #yandere imagines #platonic yandere imagine #monster reader #yandere dad #yandad #yandere platonic #yan imagine #dad yandere

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rogersideup · 4 months

Text

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini ♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter one:

Love You More

Series Masterlist

Next part: Wine and Dine

Word Count: 6,987

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

Steve sat pretty in his office at the compound, he had changed from his usual work clothes into his workout clothes not too long ago, preparing to switch from boring office work to one on one training.

He had gotten a call a few minutes ago letting him know an agent was being sent to him for disciplinary action due to some unfavorable behavior.

So he sat and waited, moving side to side in his swivel chair with a grin on his face, anticipating he knew exactly who was about to walk through that door.

And just like he thought, you stormed in his office like a little grey rain cloud. Not a single knock on the door before entering, not a professional greeting, no eye contact.

Just you, plopping down on the less comfortable swivel chair across his desk. Arms folded, eyes on the pothos plant he tried his hardest to keep alive, and your face contorted in such a manor that gave away all your internal emotions. You were seething, the pinch in your brow and the twinge in your pout told him so.

He sat with a sympathetic grin on his lips as he waited for you to pull your wireless earbuds out so his words didn't get lost behind the music you seemed to always be listening to in order to keep your mind occupied and away from reality.

"Hi, Bug." Steve greeted his friend who had been sent to his office as if he had been through this many times before... because he has.

"Hello Roger Stevenson." You responded in the same tone, slouching further into the same chair you've slouched in dozens of times now.

"What did you do?" He questioned, just as dryly as he greeted you.

"Kicked an agent in the dick." You stated confidentiality.

Steve smiled. "Why did you do that?"

"Because he cornered me durning training and tried to scare me into dropping out of the program with you." You complained.

This was the problem nearly every single time you sat in that very chair. Women agents in the compound were far and few between, and women agents that were high up in ranks were even further and fewer. Not because they were incapable, but because of the way they were treated.

Steve saw the misogyny from miles away, he saw it every day, and he had to deal with it every day. The agent training programs were chalk full of toxically masculine men who very obviously felt threatened by the presence of strong women.

He knew every single woman agent by name at this point because of how many times he had to put the men around them in their place. He had done it a billion times before, and he'd do it a billion times again.

You were the firecracker at the compound. Physically and emotionally, you outranked every agent the compound had ever seen. You worked your way through every training program so easily that you had been 'randomly selected' for more drug tests than any of your other colleagues. Peers always accused you of being on steroids, the men cornered you, belittled you, sexualized you, and sometimes even went as far as to touch your body.

At this point, you found yourself in Steve's generously spacious office a minimum of twice a week. Most of the time it was because your commander always sent you for disciplinary action because the only part of the altercations that were ever caught happened to be you defending yourself, rather than the initial issue. The other times were because you snuck away to the only place in the building you felt like you could take a moment to regain your composure, maybe have a little cry if you needed it.

For a few months now, you've been undergoing a completely new program to continue progressing in your training. Four days a week after your normal group work, you had private training with Steve.

You were learning a lot from him, and all the time the two of you had been spending together had turned you and Steve into close friends but naturally, that fueled the fire of all of your peers. The tormenting had turned up to a level that had you seeing red.

Steve couldn't and never blamed you for all the times you sat across from him for having kicked, punched, or screamed at a colleague. He was proud that you had it in you to stick up for yourself, but sad that you even had to in the first place.

However, everyone in the compound could tell that the never ending abuse from your peers was affecting your mental health. Tony and Fury had formally invited you onto the Avengers team twice now, not only because of your skill set, but also in hopes of making the situation a little better for you. Both times you professionally declined the offer with high honor, and when Steve questioned your choice both times, it was always because you didn't think you were good enough yet. Shit, you hadn't even made it through all of the training programs the compound had to offer.

It was painfully obvious that you were over qualified for a spot on the Avengers to everyone but you. The words being viciously spat at you nearly every day by inadequate men had sunken so far deep into your brain that you started to believe their words to be true. So, more one on one training it was.

"What should your disciplinary action be?" Steve asked, leaning back in his chair.

You noted his work out clothes, then looked at the time. "How about five minutes of peace and quiet before you beat my ass for two whole hours of training?"

"Peace and quiet?! That just seems so cruel." He offered an apologetic grin.

"I deserve it. I'm a terrible team player, far to emotional to ever be a good agent." Sarcasm dropped from your tone. "I must be on my period today."

"Go assert your dominance over on the couch and take a breather, I'm starting to feel way to intimidated by your feminine energy." Steve joked. "I have a few things to take care of but I'll get you when I'm ready for our one on one today."

You nodded, and stood up before making the very short walk over to the cozy couch in his office. Having spent many hours here with him before, you always felt comforted by the suede nook and throw pillow wonderland.

There was always an unspoken sense of appreciation when Steve knew not to make a big deal out of what happened. Sometimes if he harped on it for too long it would just make you cry, and if he went and yelled at the agents who had put you in this position, they'd only come back and try twice as hard to deliver you your downfall.

So pretend write ups and stern talking to's happened to be the best way to go about it.

As you sunk into the couch, Steve got up and grabbed you a water bottle and a snack. Having already trained for a few hours today with a few more ahead of you, he wanted to make sure you were taken care of.

Squatting down in front of you, peace offering in hand, Steve saw all the emotions you were trying to suppress. "Oh, and as part of your punishment you're required to hang out with Bucky and I tonight at my place. We're getting pizza and watching movies."

Only then did your smile appear. "How dare you? It wasn't even my fault and now I'm being punished far beyond the offense."

"I don't want to hear it young lady." He stood up. "You do the crime, you gotta do the time."

"Well I guess I can't say no." You took Steve's peace offering. "What time are you expecting my appearance?"

"I'm off work after training you so just come over whenever you're ready." He shrugged, moving back to his desk.

"I'm gonna shower and nap after this." You raised an eyebrow.

"Just as you deserve." Steve agreed as he sat down and fixed his eyes on his computer screen. "Your cruel and unusual punishment of peace and quiet starts now."

Feeling appreciative of Steve, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back onto the cushion. Trying your absolute hardest to meditate the anger and sadness out of your body, it was difficult to not allow yourself to sit in the emotional puddle of despair that these altercations constantly left you in.

Had it not been for Steve, you would've quit this job and ran far, far away by now. Every work day was proving to be a mental and physical hurdle that was starting to slowly chip away at your spirit, but you had no choice but to truck along considering you've already made it this far.

But eventually sunshine, rainbows, and a hot, cheesy slice to pizza consumed your thoughts to create a calmer peace of mind. That was until all of the green meadows and greasy goodness was cut off by a pillow gently whacking you in the face.

Upon ripping your eyes open, and the same seething pout returning to your face, the soldier stood proudly before you, hiding his invasive laughter by biting his tongue.

"You know, if you weren't my higher-up I'd kick you in the dick too." You grumbled.

All of Steve's self control broke free at your words, and his laughter sounded through his big and beautiful office. "I wasn't sure if you were awake or not."

"So the solution was violence?" You questioned, trying to hide your amusement. Though you could put on a pretty good act, you couldn't imagine a world in which you would ever be genuinely angry at the lump of wholesome goodness in the form of your big, strong best friend.

"That wasn't violent, that was a creative solution!" He smiled widened as your lips tugged upwards. "I chose the softest one!"

"I'll find a creative solution to get you back for that." You playfully threatened. "I know where you live."

"Can you find a creative solution to getting up off the couch so we can get training started?"

You let out a fake cry of complaint "but Stevie, my legs are so sore."

"You're being worked way too hard, we'll take it easy today." Steve offered you his hands to pull you up off the seat. "We can focus of hand to hand combat, give your legs a good break."

"No, it's fine. We can do tricking like you originally planned." You denied. Your hands found his, and he pulled you up with ease.

"Tricking is a martial art that relies mainly on your legs." Steve challenged, letting go of your hands when you were steady on your feet. "I don't think it's a good idea for today. Let's do it tomorrow instead."

"It'll be okay, I can to it." You shook your head.

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should." Steve started walking out of his office towards the private gymnasium the two of you trained in together. "I know you can do it, but I'd rather you properly recover than prove a point."

"...it's not to prove a point." You stated, trailing behind him like a puppy. "I'm just trying to be a good little agent and do my best."

"Your worst is better than most of the other agents best." He looked back at you with a grin. "So there's no harm in waiting until tomorrow."

"Whatever you say, Captain."

Though Steve has made it abundantly clear many times that you didn't have to prove your worth to him, you harbored a deep sense of disappointment in yourself for letting that complaint slip passed your lips.

He would've wanted you to feel comfortable expressing your bodies needs and limitations. In fact, he reminded you all of the time that recovery was just as important as the training itself. But you wanted to be capable of doing it all without a single peep about your discomfort.

You wanted to be mighty, you wanted to be strong, you wanted to prove your worth.

Your friend always knew your value even when you couldn't see it, so he made a habit out of advocating for your needs when you wouldn't. While you studied him to become a better fighter, he studied you just as hard. At this point he knew what every single one of your facial expressions meant, he sensed your attitude change before you expressed it, he was an expert in your body language, and was knowledgeable about your body in general.

If you weren't able to properly take care of it, he would. With the most careful respect anyone has ever given you before, Steve knew you better than anyone else in your life.

Although he took training a little bit easy today, he never stopped letting prideful compliments slip past his tongue every time you nailed a new move on the head, or every time he noticed an improvement. Even if you didn't do something so well, his critiques always started with a compliment on your brave attempt and never ended with a belittling statement.

Training with Steve always ended with a hug, or a high five if the two of you were far too hot and sweaty to want to touch each other anymore, then he'd remind you to get some rest, drink some water, and fill your belly with lots of food.

Today was no different, and as he ended the session with a big hug and words of affirmation, your mind felt a whole lot clearer than it did when you initially stormed into his office.

You said goodbye to him, but not for long because not even two hours later, you were knocking on the door to his cozy apartment in the compound.

Most people in the compound lived in barracks. A few agents to a room, with a community living situation for kitchens, living rooms, and bathrooms. The only exceptions to this were the Avengers who got their own little apartments in a private sector of the compound and..... well; you.

You were initially assigned to the barracks just like everyone else, but much like the rest of your personal journey here at the compound, the living situation got complicated.

Not only were you getting bullied and harassed while you were working, it started seeping into your living situation too. Sleeping, showering, changing your clothes, there was not a single moment in which you felt safe and confident that you weren't about to get caught in the crossfire of an angry colleague.

So after one too many incidents, your commander moved you to an apartment to yourself. It was away from the avengers and all the other agents, so even though it was nice to have a place for your own, some days it also felt isolating.

Thats why you loved hanging out with the boys. Sometimes you just needed some comfortable interaction with people you trusted in places that felt like home.

Before your hand even made it back to down to your side, the door swung open.

"You know, you and Bucky both have a key to my place. I don't understand why you guys still knock." Steve was on the other side, now wearing a white T-shirt and some cozy pants. A smile stretched across your lips and he gave you the stink eye. "I also don't understand why you showed up to pizza and a movie like that. Especially when you said you were gonna take a nap."

Usually the dress code for his house was strictly cozy clothes only. But you now had a full face of makeup, your hair was curled to perfection, and your outfit definitely didn't look comfortable.

"There was a small change of plans." You shrugged, walking past him entering his place before kicking your shoes off in the entryway.

"What do you mean change of pla-"

"Bucky!" Your smile widened when you saw your other friend sitting on the couch.

Immediately standing up, Bucky approached you and wrapped you up in a big hug. "Buggy! It's been too long!"

"It has been too long, and it's all your fault" You joked, enjoying being wrapped up in his arms.

"How is it my fault?" He asked, pretending to be offended.

"Because you went on that mission a few weeks ago!" You reminded him.

"Well then it's your fault too because you left on a mission the same day I got home." Bucky disagreed, letting you go.

"Maybe if less people in the world were so needy and evil we'd be able to see each other more." You noted, plopping down on the couch.

"Why do you look so pretty?" Bucky questioned.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" Steve added.

"Because I'm going to watch a movie with you boys... then maybe going out with a ...friend right after this." You sneakily explained knowing damn well they were about to hate what you were saying.

Like it was choreographed and synchronized, they looked at each other, then turned their heads back to you with a glare.

"You're seeing Harvey, aren't you?" Steve deadpanned.

"If I was, why would that be so bad?" You questioned.

"Because Harvey is your ex boyfriend. Emphasis on the ex." Bucky raised an eyebrow.

"No he's not. We didn't break up, we simply took a break. Those are two completely different things." You defended yourself knowing they both hated Harvey's guts.

"Taking a break is breaking up but just so much worse. He's just hurting your feelings more and dragging you along." Steve vented with his hands on his hips, like a disappointed dad.

"Exactly. And everyone knows he's one of the worst Agents in the compound." Bucky sassed, sitting next to you on the couch. "He's not nice, he doesn't have a good personality, he's falling behind so far we don't even feel comfortable sending him on missions anymore."

"He does have a good personality, he just doesn't show his true self to a lot of people. He's closed off to the outside world." You defended him.

"He's friends with all the douche bags that torment you every day. How could you be okay with that?" Steve dropped his tone to a more gentle one as he sat on the side of you opposite Bucky.

"I still haven't forgiven him for breaking your heart not even 3 months ago." Bucky reminded you of when he broke up with you over text, just to beg for you back not even a full week later.

"I know on paper it all looks bad, but you guys just don't get it. You won't understand unless you see it from the inside like I do. He can be really sweet, and he is a good agent, he just lets his dumbass friends distract him too much." You continued your defense with a shrug. "He's a Scorpio."

"Oh please" Bucky laughed. "Don't bring astrology into this."

You leaned back onto Bucky's arm and let your legs rest over Steve's lap. If you had to hear their lecture, you at least deserved to be comfortable.

"What does that even mean?" Steve questioned curiously.

"Scorpio's are kind've intense." You explained. "They're mysterious and charming, but sometimes vindictive. Harvey feels things strongly, and acts on his feelings immediately with not much to rationalize his behavior."

"Yeah, vindictive is definitely the right word to describe him" Bucky backhandedly agreed, slinging his arm around your shoulders allowing you to get more comfortable.

"What am I?" Steve asked.

"A cancer, I think." You smiled. "Let me look it up. Your birthday is the Fourth of July, right?"

"You know me so well" Steve nodded.

Your fingers typed on your phone and Bucky watched the screen. "I'm a Pisces." He stated.

"Okay, Steve. Cancers are soft, loving, creative and nurturing. They care deeply for the people they love and are uniquely in touch with their emotions. Cancers are able to handle all the roles their counterparts get lost in, they are chivalrous but are sensitive and easily emotionally wounded." You read the google search to them.

"Okay you can stop now, that made me feel vulnerable." Steve joked with a smile.

"That's Steve if I've ever heard it." Bucky agreed that the description matched him perfectly.

"Read Bucky's now." Steve encouraged, poking your leg.

Your fingers typed quickly once again. "A Pisces man is kind and unafraid to nurture his feminine side. He has the ability to listen compassionately, show deep empathy. They tend to view attention as a gift, and only ever wants to feel loved and cherished. Oh, and they're lazy, idealistic, and use escapism as their main coping mechanism."

"Awww, that's just like our sweet little Bucky boy." Steve cooed.

"Now I feel vulnerable." Bucky momentarily hid his face in his hands earning your laugh.

"What's yours, Bug?" Steve questioned with a giggle.

"I'm a Gemini" You stated proudly. "Most people don't like Geminis"

"What's there not to like?" Steve cocked his head to the side.

"Well the most notable trait of a Gemini is that we have a strong ability to switch between different roles, interests, and perspectives with ease. Kind've like Yin and Yang all in one. We can be emotional and logical, introverted and extroverted, analytical and intuitive all at the same time." You explained.

"I still don't see the problem" Steve said.

"Most people take the duality as being two-faced. Almost like we will use it as manipulation or means to have a hidden agenda. But I think that's a false representation of what I'm really like." You continued with a shrug. "I don't have an ulterior motive, I just try to view all things from all sides and find a good balance of logic and emotion. Like letting your heart and your brain make choices together."

"Being able to see situations from all angles is what makes you such a good agent, that's practically a super power" Bucky commented, lightly nudging you with his shoulder.

"Exactly. Understanding your enemy can let you get two steps ahead of them while still holding your own with grace and precision." Steve agreed.

"Float like a butterfly, and sting like a bee." Bucky added.

"That's exactly why I call her Bug!" Steve enthused with a big smile.

"Oh, I call her Bug because you call her Bug, but that makes sense!" Bucky laughed. "I thought it was because most people are scared of her at first but once you learn more about her, she's really not that bad after all!"

You looked up at Bucky with eyes squinted into a glare worth a thousand daggers. "Worms for brains!"

Steve's laughter at the comment didn't falter either, so you gently kicked him in the rib. "Hey! I'm the second person you've kicked today!"

"I wouldn't have to kick people if people didn't give me a reason to kick them." You defended yourself. "And I stand by that!"

Steve's hands held your two legs tightly in his hands. "Keep your legs closed and to yourself, ma'am!"

You gasped and clutched your chest in exaggeration before joking. "Are you calling me a slut, Captain?!"

"Steven Grant Rogers!" Bucky protectively clutched you closer to him. "That is not how we speak to women!"

"No wait!" Steve laughed. "That's not what I meant!"

“Mmmhmmm" Bucky sassed.

"I meant stop kicking people! Especially me!"

"I'm choosing to forgive you, under one condition." You giggled. "Please order the pizza. I'm starving."

"I heard your stomach grumbling during training, I ordered it 15 minutes ago." Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Ugh, I love you so much." You professed. "Sweet, sweet man."

Steve's cheeks subtly warmed. "I love you more!"

"I'm gonna vomit." Bucky grumbled behind you. "Remember when he called you a slut?"

"I did not!" Steve shrieked.

You barked out a laugh before rolling onto your side to reach for the remote on the coffee table. "What are we watching boys? Lord knows this is going to take at least half an hour to figure out..."

And right you were, because the pizza arrived before the three of you agreed on a movie. You stuffed your bellies and watched the film before saying goodbye to them and meeting Harvey for drinks.

Though you didn't have high expectations of how you wanted the night to turn out with him, Harvey somehow found a way to dig underneath the bar you had set on the floor for him.

It was clear from the moment you showed up at the causal dive bar that he wasn't interested in speaking like adults, so through the entire duration of your first drink he sat and belittled you. It was as if his friends in the compound had taken control of his brain like a parasite. All of the reasons he claimed he could never get back together with you sounded just like the reasons most of the agents at the compound treated you like a piece of garbage.

You weren't even that good of an agent, he didn't like how much time you were spending with Steve, your invitation to the avengers was just coercion, and you spent too much time working and not enough time attending to him... even though both of you worked the same hours.

Needless to say, you cut him off before ordering a shot on his tab. You threw it back effortlessly without as much as a stink face or a wince, slipped the bartender a tip, then walked away without as much as a single goodbye to the man you once loved with your whole heart.

Maybe Steve and Bucky were right. They were always right, and you always ended up looking like a fool.

Much like a fool would, you cried for the entire walk back to the compound. You cried through the hallways up to your apartment, you cried while taking off your makeup and brushing your teeth. You even cried as you slipped on your pajamas and walked back to Steve's apartment, hoping that maybe him and Bucky were still watching movies.

But, you did manage to stop the tears as you slid the key in and unlocked his door. You sniffled as you stepped in and were greeted with a dark living room and his bedroom door shut.

Feeling a little defeated, you still wanted to be with someone. So you quietly made your way into his room and slipped into the unoccupied side of his bed.

You didn't know if it was the big, scary superhero sleeping next to you, or maybe the extra comfortable blankets and pillows, but Steve's bed was the most comforting place in the world to you.

He never questioned why, and neither of you even remembered how it came to be, but you made a dirty little habit of sneaking in and sleeping in his company when you couldn't fathom being alone at night. You had a lot on your plate, and Harvey was known for breaking your heart right before bed. The compound to you wasn't the warm and fuzzy place it was to Steve and Bucky, it was cold and sterile. So Steve was happy to let you come to the one place you found comfort whenever you needed

But there was one unspoken rule, and that was for very obvious reasons. No one could know about this. Not any other agent, not any other avenger. Not even Bucky.

Why? Well, the most obvious reason was that if anyone found out about how close you and Steve really were, especially your little sleepovers, all of the times your colleagues falsely claimed that you were having sex with him to climb up in ranks would quadruple in amount. You were already getting horrifically bullied at the compound, and neither of you could stand to add fuel to the fire.

The second reason being Steve was technically your higher up. Like a manager or a supervisor, you occasionally reported to him. Though him being your main disciplinary figure and trainer, he also occasionally did other duties surrounding your job such as deployment on missions, oversight on testing days, and training assessments.

Your friendship was already crossing way more lines than either of you have ever crossed in a normal boss - employee relationship. Steve had moral dilemmas about it every single day, he could see the dilemma in your eyes every so often as well. On paper it was wrong, but given the circumstances that his friendship with you was similar to his friendships with the avengers, Steve made himself feel better by viewing it as stepping stones to get you onto the team. Because once you were officially an Avenger, the two of you would be equals and there would be absolutely nothing wrong with your closeness.

The third and least obvious reason was the unfortunate fact that Steve was head over heels in love with you.

He really never meant for this to happen, but it hit him harder than a freight train the very first time he ever laid eyes on you. You had just ranked high enough to start agent training under Steve's devision. Anticipating a brand new group of recruits to whip into shape, especially with rumors about a nameless and faceless agent, Agent 306, who had worked their way into his devision in less than 3 months, less than half the time it took everyone else to get there, he walked into the group training room and his eyes immediately locked on yours.

Once they found you, he couldn't look away. You reminded him so much of when he was in boot camp before he took the serum. In a lineup of men that towered over you in height, you seemed tiny but mighty. Steve knew better than anyone else to never underestimate the little guy.

So he started down the line and put the assigned agent numbers to faces while trying his best to memorize them as fast as he could. You stood as tall as you could and improved your posture as he got closer to you. Admittedly, being in front of an avenger for the first time was terrifying and nerve wracking. The closer he got, the harder your hands shook.

Then, it was your turn. The man towered over you with his big, solid frame. But the second you looked into his big blue eyes, you immediately recognized the kindness and warmth that lived within them.

"Agent?" He raised an eyebrow at you.

"306." You stated simply.

Expecting him to nod after he studied your face and move on like he did the rest of the agents, his eyes widened for a moment before his lips tugged up into a smile.

You were the most beautiful thing his eyes every had the pleasure of looking at, and while he had the permission, he took in all your features as quickly as he could. He remembered how much he thought you looked like women painted in fine pieces of art for centuries. Classic, timeless, effortlessly beautiful.

"306." He smiled. "I've heard a lot about you. You've got a big reputation to uphold. Keep up the good work."

Just when he thought you couldn't get any more beautiful, your eyes twinkled. He could tell you you were suppressing a smile to keep a professionally straight face. "Thank you, Captain."

Just like that, he moved on to the next agent in the line.

But to this day, he's never moved on from you. He tried his absolute hardest, but he just couldn't. So he shoved it down so deeply into his heart, and locked it up, and threw the metaphorical key into the middle of the ocean.

Since that very day, he had to work hard so just to make sure nobody would ever find out how smitten he was of you. He'd never look at you for too long, never pick you out of the line unless it was necessary, never overly complement your work, and never let his mind wander too far.

You had a boyfriend, and he was your boss. Plain and simple. He wiped the dirt off his shoulder.

But over time, your friendship blossomed, the harassment got worse, and one on one training with you started. That started a whole new level of trust that he simply could not break for you.

Training was intense, and when all the men around you tried to cop sneaky feels of your body, you and Steve grew a mutual trust in touching each other.

Sometimes he had to throw you, catch you, you had to throw light punches and kicks at him. There were days in which he'd have you in a headlock, maybe you full body tackled him onto the ground, maybe he had to grab your waist to correct you mid-flip to make sure you wouldn't snap your neck upon landing.

You were so confident in his ability to be respectful of you, that you were comfortable enough to sleep in his bed when you had a boyfriend.

It took so much time to gain that kind of trust with you, and that trust was very important to him. To accomplish what you two were doing, feeling comfortable and confident in your partner was make or break.

If you ever found out that he had a stupid little crush on you, he could only imagine it would break a majority of that trust. Immediately, the comfortable energy between you two would become very uncomfortable for you, and he simply couldn't put that burden on you.

If Bucky found out you had occasionally been sleeping in Steve's bed, he would immediately figure out his dirty little secret. It would alter the dynamic of your little friend group, and he would push and push for Steve to just tell you the truth in hopes it had some fairytale ending.

So yeah. Nobody could know about this.

Steve had enough conscious awareness to know that you were there with him last night, but not enough to remember you sneaking out before he was awake. You loved to avoid his questions about what had you down enough to not want to be alone, and you had gotten better at tactics to avoid the post sleep interview he loved to bombard you with.

You were so good, in fact, that you managed to avoid it all day until you walked into the private training gym anticipating your routine with Steve.

Oddly enough, he was late. You were never there before him, and he was never even a minute late to anything. So you took the time to start the music from your shared workout playlist with him, and do some warm up stretches on the floor while you waited.

Ten minutes later, he frantically walked into the room. "So sorry I'm late, had an emergency call down to the track-" he stopped in his tracks when he saw lingering sadness on your face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" You shook your head, touching your hands to your toes. "I'm fine."

"You look like you've been crying." He noted, cautiously sitting on the floor in front of you.

"It's fine, I've been looking forward to this all day. Can we just get started?" You asked, unable to fake a chipper tone of voice.

"I was late because an agent decided that working through a hangover was a good idea, and now there's vomit all over the running track. Could that violent hangover have anything to do with your tear stained cheeks, Bug?" He asked.

"Harvey?" You questioned.

"Bingo."

"I frankly do not care to hear anything else about him." You shook your head again. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that, but it has nothing to do with me. I'm not responsible for any of his dumb choices anymore."

"You never have been." Steve agreed with reluctance. "Last night didn't go so well, huh?"

"We're done." You finally looked Steve in the eyes. "You and Bucky were right. I'm done being discredited and disrespected by the worst excuse for a human in this place."

"I'm so sorry." Steve's face softened in sympathy. Despite his internal happiness that you were officially done with a man who has treated you so poorly, it didn’t make up for the empathy he had for your sadness. "I know you loved him a lot, I can imagine this is difficult for you."

"Can we do that thing where we don't harp on an issue for too long so I don't get even more upset about it?" You asked, feeling as if you'd explode into a puddle of tears if he kept being so nice to you.

"Sure thing, we can talk about it later when work is over." Steve agreed, standing up and offering you his hands. "Did you drink last night?"

You let him help you up and let out a sigh. Technically, you weren't supposed to be drinking much or consuming any substances that could alter your sobriety just in case you got called on emergency.

"I did, but not enough to get me hammered." You explained, letting him help you up. "Just a cocktail and a shot. But I also ate and drank plenty of water."

"That's fine, you know I trust you to make good choices." Steve acknowledged, happy you told him the truth.

"Then why did you ask?" You questioned, dusting your hands off on your work out pants.

"Just wanted to make sure you're not going to throw up on me." Steve smiled.

"I think we're in the clear." You giggled.

"You're allowed to take a day off, you know?" Steve reminded you. "We don't have to do this today if you want to just take a day to pull yourself together."

"This is how I pull myself together." Your hands motioned around the room. "If I sit and do nothing all day, I'll lose my mind."

"Fair enough" Steve nodded in understanding, he was the same way. "Want to get started?"

"Yes please"

It took a bit for you to snap your mind into the proper mindset, but with a bit of guidance, Steve got you there. Once you were all in it, he had you practicing and improving skill sets he started teaching you last week.

About an hour and a half in, you were a hot mess. Your shirt quickly came off leaving you in just a sports bra and work out pants, your hair was tied back as sweat dripped down your face, and you were panting so much that all you wanted to do was lay out on the floor.

But this was typically how hard Steve pushed you, and that's why you loved him. You barely left your typical agent training procedures with a hair out of place. With him, you actually felt like you were making improvement.

The upbeat music and Steve's voice guiding you through how to maneuver in defense hardly even masked the sound of running footsteps down the echoing hallway.

Your commander poked his head into room to see Steve trying his hardest to punch and kick you, while you were moving tirelessly to try and block each attempt. As he watched you miss every single fist and foot, he couldn't help but to be impressed.

"306" He called out in a hurry.

You continued blocking Steve until he stopped, only then did you turn your head and stand tall at his order.

"Commander Bennett." You acknowledged, trying to catch your breath.

"Sorry to interrupt, Captain Rogers. We need 306 on an emergency deployment right now."

“Don't be sorry, it's okay." He acknowledged before looking at you. "Are you going to be alright?"

That question had too many layers to unpack at the moment. In general? Probably. After your break up? Maybe not. Going on a mission when you were already worn out? No, but you'd pretend like you were fine.

"Yeah, I'll be okay." You nodded, grabbing your shirt and pulling it back over your head.

"Good work today, we'll pick back up when you get home." He reached out for a high five which you happily accepted. "Stay safe."

"Will do, see you soon, Stevie." You slapped your hand against his.

"Get home quick, Bug." He smiled as you fast walked out of the room backwards. Commander Bennett already running down the hallway.

"Love ya!" You waved, your pretty smile sending a shockwave of physical pain through Steve's heart.

"Love you more" He smiled through the pain.

Then just like that, you slipped out of the door.

He waited until he could no longer hear your footsteps before quite literally back flopping onto the soft floor mats behind him, and took some long, deep breaths.

That little locked box that resides in the depths of his cold heart was desperately trying to work its way up. The contents of love for you inside of it was starting to ooze out of its seams, and you officially being back on the market after months of running back to the same man who was committed to breaking your heart on an endless loop wasn't helping.

He laid there with his eyes closed, letting the thick cushioned material cool his skin as he let the cold hard facts sink into his brain once more.

The only certainty was that he is your boss, your friend, and your own personal cushioned landing mat. He'd be there to catch you if you fell, he'd lend you a shoulder to cry on, and he'd help you get back up on your feet.

He was certain that you loved him as a friend, but he was most certain that he loved you more.

He would always love you more. More than you'll ever know, and more than he will ever tell you.

Next part: Wine and Dine

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