#season 2 cannon divergence

[opheliathestarqueen]

Okay like I knew the arc they were setting up for Izzy’s development would lead us here to his death but I’m still devistated.

He grew so much this season and even had a whole beautiful monologue about what being a pirate is (to show how much he has changed) only for him to die. Like I get why but it hurts so bad.

That death scene with Ed was amazing and Con O’nell really just overall killed it this season, but that scene…specially… like damn.

The way that he just wanted to die looking at who he loved the most. The apology for hurting Ed. The assurance to Ed that he is in good hands. The expression that he himself wanted to die (which has been a thing this whole season of him also wanting to give up the way Ed did, like he did try to kill himself when Ed left him). The acceptance that Ed would never love him in the way he needed to be loved. The acceptance of Stede and Ed’s relationship just solidified to him that he could go and Ed would be okay.

God I’m never going to shut up about that scene

Just so devastating

#ofmd spoilers #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death spoilers #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #our flag means death season 2 #ofmd season 2 spoilers #edizzy #off to read cannon divergent fanfiction now to cope

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 2: Summer

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Hunting and skinning squirrels. Chemical burns to skin. Piercing injury. Joel being a dick in a moment of self-preservation. Ellie's still a swear-mouth. Everybody makes some mistakes.

Summary: You solve a problem for Ellie and Joel really doesn't take it well.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

Listen. I know those warnings up there seem like a bit much, but I promise you all of that is in passing, in service to the plot, and not described in detail. (With the exception Ellie's cussing. That will persist indefinitely.) This is stupid fluffy.

Your gut reaction is to fetch your gun and point it at Ellie’s head.

But the girl is calm.

And the bites are healed.

“Wanna shoot me, don’t you,” she challenges with a mismatched set of cocky mouth and world weary eyes. “This one happened before I met Joel. And this one the day after. This is why he took me to the Fireflies. He told me not to tell anyone. That’s why I freaked out.”

Earlier in the day you’d gone looking for Ellie, hoping to show her the honeybee hive you’d discovered at the edge of the meadow. She’d been bathing in the stream, stripped down to nothing. She’d shrieked when she saw you coming near and you’d laughed and kept your eyes averted, understanding the self-consciousness of teenagers, about to tell her to come and find you when she was done.

And then she roared.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME! GO!”

It had been a punch to the heart if not a slap to the face, which you were certain by her tone you would have received had you been close enough.

Saying nothing, and simply obeying her wish, you’d turned and gone back to the Roost. Ellie stayed away so long that her hair was completely dry and her nose was sunburned when she finally joined you.

Every footfall had been an apology on the ladder. And every slow creak along the porch was following an olive branch to the broken down sofa you perched on to keep watch over the north meadow.

Taking a reticent seat beside you, she’d rolled up her sleeve. “I’m sorry I yelled. I didn’t want you to see it. It’s kind of a life and death thing.”

“Obviously,” you answer, shellshocked. “Reaction warranted.” Dropping her arm to her lap and reaching up to pull down her cuff, you stop her, holding out a waiting hand. “Can I?”

Suddenly doe-eyed and struck by your acceptance, she nods and lays her forearm in your palm.

There’s instinctual revulsion at first, but it melts to wonder as you get a closer look at the scars. There’s nothing of skin breakage, no mycelium running underneath, nothing reaching for you through holes as there would be if you were having one of your nightmares.

Immunity. Statistically speaking, it had to exist, but she’s the first you’ve ever seen or heard of.

“I wondered why you’d choose to wear long sleeves in this heat. I see now. Joel was smart to tell you to keep it covered. This’ll get you killed faster than infection, that’s for sure.” The tendons in her arm flex involuntarily when you run your fingers over the marks. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to tickle.” She relaxes as you release her. This time she doesn’t move to cover the skin. “Out in the open with Joel, I can imagine why you were bit the second time. How’d you come by it the first time?”

“Messing around with a friend where I wasn’t supposed to.”

Ah. By the pull at her brow and the same laws of statistics, you’d hazard to guess that friend didn’t make it. Probably another kid like her. Tragic.

“I see. And that’s why you were being smuggled. That’s why they wanted you. Well, what did the Fireflies make of you?”

She clearly catches the way you slather contempt onto the name of the terrorist organization, but answers your question. “They wanted to make a cure from my blood. They had me on the operating table but raiders attacked the hospital and killed everyone while I was under. So I guess we missed our chance.”

A quiet minute passes as you watch her tracing her thumb over the scar, lost in thought, brow twisted, recounting the ordeal of that day. Something doesn’t sit right with her about it.

And neither does it sit right with you.

Doctors don’t put a person on an operating table just to draw blood.

And you’ve heard stories of what Joel’s capable of.

You’ve witnessed just how protective he is over this little girl.

Her reverie dissolves when you lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. “While I’m sorry they never got the chance to find the possibilities, I understand enough about research medicine to know that the likelihood of their finding a cure from just one person is almost impossible. So while they might have been able to study your blood, they most likely wouldn’t be able to get enough of it or keep it stable long enough to find any answers.”

“How do you know that?”

Over the next hour as the sun sinks in the sky and she soaks up your history, you tell her about your sister. How you and her and Maria were a tight-knit team growing up, how in love with Maria she was, how you were certain they were going to get married one day.

Then you tell her how Maria went off to law school and your sister got sick, that the cancer was rare and the treatment was long and expensive, so your parents had opted for research to fray some costs and keep the ranch.

In the end, there were no answers, not without more donors of her ilk.

Your parents took a loan against the ranch, knowing full well they would lose it, but everyone agreed it was worth it for whatever time it would buy her.

And then Jakarta fell. And the world went to hell.

A few of the elderly residents of the Jackson basin came to hole up on the ranch and most of Willa’s family and tribal branch moved over from their land to form a protective new family group. It worked for a few years. It was safe. It was a thriving little commune.

And then the Fireflies came.

“There were Fireflies out here too?”

“Oh yeah, they were in every QZ, spreading their lies and chaos through the telegram towers, recruiting poor young suckers wherever they took root and getting them all killed. You tangled with them and I’d say you’re lucky you’re alive.”

Ellie frowns down at her arm again. “What did they do when they came here?”

Another story then. Now you explain with a little less nostalgia how the Fireflies came to use your ranch as a base. Trucks coming and going at all hours. Gunshots in the night. Catching the attention of roving packs of raiders. People got hurt. People died.

There was one day when two Fireflies went out foraging mushrooms with old Ms. Celia. They brought her body back on a makeshift sled. Just keeled over, they said.

Funny how the same thing happened the week before with old Ms. Margie. What a coincidence that it was happening when the food supplies were running low.

But the last blow came when the ranch was attacked by raiders a third time. There was a plan in place to create a distraction, draw their attention away from the ranch. The Fireflies knew your sister was sick and designated she do the job. They put a gun to your head when you protested.

It’s okay, she’d said, I don’t have much left to lose. If I’m going out, at least the people I love will be safe.

It was a shit plan.

A lot of people died that day. Most of them were raiders, thanks to Willa and her tribe. Some of them were Fireflies thanks to you and your shotgun.

“So did you win?”

“No. The barriers were still broken. And the ranch was burned to the ground.”

The evening sky is a mix of purples and gold now, the flocks of birds swooping over the meadow are starting to vie for their meal of mosquitos and gnats with an increasing number of bats. Ellie watches one in particular as it swoops up and over the roof of the Roost.

“What about your parents?”

“They burned with the ranch.”

She nods solemnly, without horror, the attitude of a child that’s seen too much.

“And your sister died too then?”

"She got away at first. Found her in the woods a week later with a bite like yours, but she was long gone by then. One of Willa’s brothers did the shooting.”

Another quiet nod. “What was your sister’s name?” she asks as an evening bird calls.

It was bound to come up.

“Eleanor. We called her Ell. Ellie, when she was little.” When you can see the unearned guilt building in her face you bump her shoulder playfully. “It was almost twenty years ago. I hold onto the good memories. She was sweet and kind to everyone she met, never backsassed our parents, never disobeyed. So basically nothing like you at all.” You laugh when she shoots you an annoyed look. “Not that she was an angel though! She had her fire; you didn’t want to get on her bad side. And she was whip smart. That’s where the two of you meet I think.”

“Sounds like you lost everything at once.”

“I did,” a fact you aknowledge as you stretch and get up, heading back into the cabin to light the lantern. “But Willa helped me through. And then Jackson got its walls up and Maria found her way home and I had family again.” Once the lantern flickers to life, you grab your bag and start pawing through it. “You keep going for family.”

“That’s what Joel says.”

“Huh. You know what? I believe you. Here,” pulling a tank top out of your pack you toss it at her and it smacks her in the face. “While you’re out here you can wear that and not die of heat stroke in those knit tops. But when you’re out in the sun, put something over your shoulders or use the tsuga paste. Your skin hasn’t seen sun in a while and the last thing I need to do is bring you back cooked like a Christmas goose and have Joel all up in my ass about it.”

“That actually sounds like a good thing for both of you, if you ask me.”

“Watch it.”

“What? I didn’t say anything! Look at the time! We should be spinning wool! How I love spinning wool. Whoopee!”

“Like I said. Nothing like my sister. You little shit.”

________

“Meadowlark to patrol.”

“This is patrol.”

“Starling and I are on the southeast side of the meadow near the chokecherry copse and we’ve found a honeybee hive. I’m going to tie red flags to the surrounding trees. You wanna put the word out that some of these cherries are ready to go and get someone suited out here to scope out this hive?”

“This will make four hives now.”

“I know. We’re getting lucky this year.”

“Will do, Meadowlark. We’ll radio in before we cross borders.”

“Copy. Out.”

On the way back to the Roost you and Ellie stop to greet a group of sheep lazing in the grass, sitting down and sharing cherries with them from a basket between the two of you.

“They can eat these?” she asks.

“Sure. They can pretty much eat whatever we do. Chokecherries are fine. Just don’t give ‘em the leaves or stems. Those are poisonous.”

This means taking the time to pull cherries away from the branches until there’s a handful to feed the sheep. Normally you’d be fending them off during this, they’d be insistent and impatient, but the heat of the day has them lazy and languid.

It’s also working on Ellie as she yawns, stretching her white arms plastered in pine and sunflower paste for protection, her scar marring her otherwise unburned forearm.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” you hand her another branch to start shucking. “Willa does tattoos. She could cover that for you.”

Ellie hesitates. “Maybe.”

“What. You don’t want a tattoo? I thought you might like that. It would be pretty badass. We could cover it with a starling or something….”

“I guess.” You wait for her excuse. It’s a decent one. “I just…It would mean Willa would know too. Joel told me not to tell anyone. I don’t think I should.”

“I understand. That’s kinda why I suggested Willa. The woman’s a vault.” But Ellie’s fingers stop picking berries, as if she doesn’t know what to do or what to say. “Oh. I see. You don’t want Joel to know you told anyone. Even me.”

She nods.

She changes the subject then–something about him wanting to keep her safe, even teaching her to use a shotgun to protect herself–but your mind keeps working on the problem.

It’s only when you make it back to the ladder at the Roost, one foot frozen on the bottom rung, that you find the answer.

“What’s wrong?” she asks from behind you.

Under the posts of the Roost is a load of firewood. And under that wood….

“Ellie…if there was another way to get rid of your scar, would you?”

“What. You gonna give me some kinda bird tattoo yourself? Is it gonna look like a blob or–”

“I mean, do you want it gone at all?”

She pulls herself out of her slouched position to her full height. “I mean…yeah…I think a tattoo is actually a great idea I just…”

“What if Willa didn’t have to know? What if she thought she was covering up something else?” Pulling a few armfulls of wood away from the side of the pile, you uncover a wide plank of wood, once a handsome cedar coffee table top, now a sunken excuse for a forest cellar door. Prying the wood out of its depression, you reveal an earthen pit housing a couple of shovels, a couple pairs of oilskin mittens, and a covered earthen pot.

“This,” you point to the pot, “is lye. We keep it out here in case one of the sheep dies from infection or illness. It’s important to bury the sheep to keep it away from the flock. But even if you bury a carcass, bear and coyotes will come sniffing around and dig it up. We discourage that with this. Lye breaks down organic matter. That’s why we have gloves in here. It burns skin.”

Ellie frowns into the pit, understanding slowly dawning until she asks with a gasp, “Does it hurt?”

“Hells yes it does. It’s a burn, Ellie. It hurts like a son of a bitch, there’s no way I’d lie about that. But it will twist the features of that scar. You’ll never have to dodge suspicion again.”

“Mother. Fucker,” her whisper shakes, but she eyes the pot in steady fascination.

“You know what?” You throw the tabletop back down over the hole, “I saw a whole lot of squirrels around those chokecherries and they’re actually good eating if you get a few of them and throw ‘em in a pot with some potatoes and onion and garlic…. Too bad their skins are too small to be useful. But we can’t just leave ‘em lying around, you know. So if you and I were to go out and get a few and make a stew, and say I was to show you how the lye works with the leavings… well, something might happen.” The girl looks you dead in the eye, her jaw dropping open a little in disbelief. “What do you say? You wanna go out and do some target practice? Get some squirrel for dinner?”

A switch flips in Ellie’s spine and her eyes spark cold and bright, two supernovas in a smiling galaxy.

“Fuck yes. I’ll get the rifle.”

________

“Good shot!” you cheer as a third squirrel drops from a branch and you share a high five. “Wonder who taught you that! Damn, girl! Three for three. Tonight, we feast.”

“So, when are we doing this?” Ellie smiles as you walk back to the Roost, the barrel of the rifle slung over one shoulder, a string of fuzzy dinner swinging from the other.

“Tomorrow morning. Willa will be coming in at noon and that should give us some time to get a good burn in before she arrives. It should be fine, but if anything goes wrong, she can help and that makes me feel better about it. Ellie…. You sure you trust me with this?”

“I can’t die from it, right?”

“No, but you might want to. It’s sure as hell not gonna be pleasant.”

“Lady, I spent half a year walking across the country with Joel. I’m a master at dealing with unpleasant.” By now the sheep are familiar with the sound of Ellie’s laughter and a few perk up on your way past to follow you lazily back to the Roost. “But, like, I don’t understand why we have to go through all this with the squirrels. Don’t get me wrong, I like the target practice and all…”

You take the squirrels from her and set up a makeshift butcher’s block on a stump left waist high specifically for this purpose. “I don’t want to lie to Joel when he freaks out about you getting hurt. We had squirrels. We disposed of the leavings. You got burned with the lye. Truth truth truth.”

“You think he’ll be mad at you?”

“Oh, I’m already counting that into the equation. I know you seem to think he’s fond of me, but not all the evidence leads up to that. You know how to clean a squirrel?”

“Sure do,” she grins as she trades the rifle for your boot knife and, taking the first rodent in hand, she works it skillfully, tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth, skinning the critter in one go. “Thanks, little buddy. You were cute, but you’ll be gooooooood eating.”

“You’re a hell of a kid.”

“Yeah, well, guess who taught me this?” she says as she morbidly slices through another one, making dramatic death noises as she goes. “Why do you think he doesn’t like you? Joel’s stupid about you. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Jesus, Ellie.” With a sigh and a shake of the head, you indulge her question and your own immature angst. “Well, for starters, I can tell he doesn’t think much of some of my conversation.”

“What do you mean?” Another skin lands at her feet.

“He just…doesn’t answer questions sometimes. Ignores comments. Doesn’t like to join in on the joke.”

“This is a big one,” she grunts, tugging at the final squirrel. “What side are you standing on when he ignores you?”

“Huh?”

“Where are you standing when you talk to Joel? He’s deaf in his right ear.”

You blink.

And suddenly a hell of a lot of things make a hell of a lot of sense.

That one time you complimented his shirt and he said nothing, you were on his right.

That one time you poked fun at his scowl. On his right.

You cracked that joke, offered a piece of pie, told him everything would be alright.

Right. Right. Right.

“I…didn’t know that,” you stammer stupidly, flinching when Ellie hands your knife back and heads for the ladder.

“Yeah, that was obvious. I’m gonna go get a bowl.” You’re still in shock as she starts climbing. “Don’t expect him to get down on one knee when he asks you to marry him; he’s got shitty knees too. He’s happy to complain about it if you ask him. Make sure it’s in his left ear.”

________

“Okay, look at me, Ellie. Breathe.”

She nods, her eyes burning with determination over the shirt you’ve tied around her nose and mouth to protect her from inhaling the mix.

As you sit in the grass a few meters from the stream with her arm resting in your mittened hands, you lay the lye-laden cloth over the scar and enclose it with pressure.

Her breath comes heavily. Bravely. Then you hear it change as the lye begins to work.

“Shit. It itches,” she hisses. “Shit. Shit shit fuck fuck ow it’s getting worse–”

“You want me to stop?”

“No shit fuck I can do this I got this shiiiiiiiiiit!”

“I won’t let you go too long but you let me know if you need–”

“I’m fine! FUCK!”

It’s when she screams that you know it’s enough and releasing her, you order, drill sergeant style, “Go! Go! Go! Fifteen minutes! Don’t look at it!”

Ellie bolts into the ice cold stream, sneakers and all, gasping as the water washes the cloth away from her. “Shit. I thought it would feel better. It doesn’t!”

“Does it feel worse?”

“No, it just fucking burns!”

A sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good. Just… just let it rinse. Do you feel woozy at all?”

She just shakes her head, looking down through the water. “It’s getting red. And puffy.”

“No broken skin?”

“No.”

“Good. It’ll probably blister up some.”

Ellie might not be feeling woozy, but you sure are. Was it a reckless idea? Probably. Will it actually work? Hopefully. Do you feel bad that she’s gonna be in pain for a while? Fuck yes. But then you remember when she put on your tank top and just … laid in the grass and smiled. Even if she never wore short sleeves again, at least nobody was going to make a fast decision with a gun to her skull.

You really should have checked with Joel though. No matter what Ellie wants, you know full well it wasn’t your call to make.

Another problem for another day.

“Everything okay down there?” Willa’s black braids glint in the sun as she walks down from the Roost.

“Ellie had a run in with the lye,” you call back.

“Yeah, I see you were composting. I filled in the hole.” She hardly even stops when she reaches you, simply pulls off her boots and heads straight into the water. “Let’s see. Oh yeah. That’s a burn alright.”

As Willa inspects Ellie’s submerged arm, the girl looks up and smiles at you, giving you a wet thumbs up. “Hurts like a motherfucker!"

“I’ll bet,” the woman hums dryly. “That’s going to swell up and scar pretty bad. Why don’t you sit and let the water do its work. Meadowlark and I will go pack your things and I’ll grab the gauze in the first aid kit.”

Willa doesn’t ask questions as you pack up, just the regular routine of information trade off. You tell her that you’ve marked a few sheep with blue dye to keep an eye on for injuries or dehydration. And she lets you know what’s going on in town, including the fact that there’s gonna be a wedding with a reception at the food hall over the weekend.

“Really? Who?”

“Bear and Missy Tippet.”

“Your uncle??? Willa, I can stay; don’t you wanna be there?”

She laughs. “Hell no I do not. You know exactly how I feel about Missy Tippet; same as you. I’d rather be out here. Perfect timing. They’ve been keeping each other warm on and off for years now. Maybe this will finally keep her on. As much as I hate to picture that,” she shivers.

Willa’s such an even-keeled soul and it’s not just anyone she’ll shit talk in front of. “Well, your secret’s safe with me. If it is a secret that is.”

“What’s a secret?” Ellie interrupts as she pulls herself up to the balcony from the ladder with one hand.

Willa takes a little time to show her the correct way to bandage the burn–not too tight–while you pack the horses, as well as instructing you where to find her stash of willow bark if Ellie needs it for the pain.

But something tells you that Eliie’s gonna tough it out. Though she holds her arm gingerly as she rides, fisting the reigns in her left hand, the girl grins all the way back to Jackson like she’s just pulled off the heist of the century.

________

Jackson is busy when you ride through the gates midday, folks passing by on their way to visit, deliver, build. Purpose in Jackson is taken seriously, as is leisure, and both are on display as you pass by the rustic main drag, in many different ways frozen in time–log storefronts and Mickey Mouse tshirts, leather-saddled livestock and Japanese fans.

You spot Joel waiting at the stables before he sees you, distracted by none other than Missy Tippet. Getting herself married or not, the stunning woman is a glutton for attention and a class A flirt, and she’s not the only one in town whose head turned the minute Joel took up residence.

Not that you can blame her, with him in that tight grey tshirt, busting a carpenter’s arms out of its sleeves and contouring it with sweat…. By the dust on his face, he’s been working today. Probably took a break to wait for–

“Ellie. Hey! You decided to come home.”

“Yup,” she says, throwing him the reins to distract him while she gingerly dismounts. “I shot three squirrels!”

You avoid Joel’s questioning glance as you slide down from your own mare and lead her into a stall. “Go on, you two, I’ll stable up. Nice to see you, Cinnamon Roll.”

But they’re already on their way, an engaged chattering, laughing questions and energetic answers…and your teasing goes unheard. Ah. Wrong ear, you realize.

Missy smirks; condescends.“Cinnamon roll, huh? Good try, I guess.”

You don’t rise to her bait. “Just giving him sass. He’s obviously not a fan. You gonna help me with these saddles or keep slobbering all over the men that aren’t your fiancee what come on by?”

Okay. Maybe a little rising.

________

It’s your ritual, first thing back from the meadow. The Roost holds a special place in your heart, but the one thing it can’t deliver is a shower. Great gods of earth and sky, let there be thanks that warm water’s still a thing, even in summer.

You’re still dripping, one head tilted to the side as you drain the last of the water out one ear, when there’s a knock at the front door downstairs.

Well, let’s see. There aren’t that many people who know you’re back yet and Ellie’s come home with a bandage on her arm. It’s easy to guess who’s knocking. Okay. Let’s get this over with.

When you answer the door wrapped in nothing but a towel, it obviously wasn’t what Joel was expecting, and if he walked over here with any ire, it instantly freezes and shatters like a bubble on the tundra when he takes in all the skin on display.

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t invite you in for snacks at the moment.”

Deflated, he simply rams his hands in his pockets, squinting. “You wanna tell me about Ellie’s arm?”

“I had planned on it at a time when I wasn’t wet and naked, but sure.” When he throws his hands up in defeat and turns to leave, you stop him, catching at his sleeve and stretching the fabric so it snaps back against his arm. “Hey. Wait. Yes. I was going to tell you.” As you cross your arms over the towel and lean on the door frame, he does much the same on the other side, averting his eyes and trying not to fidget. And failing. “It happened this morning. She shot some squirrels and we dressed ‘em for dinner last night and buried the bones and pelts. Gotta lye ‘em or animals come digging. I thought she could handle it. Looks like we both got burned, so to speak.” His face is stony. Unamused. You continue. “Willa looked at it this morning, we got it a good rinse. I’m gonna go by her place later and grab some willow bark and show Ellie how to compress.” He shakes his head at his boots. “Hey. She’ll be fine, Joel.”

“I don’t want her getting hurt out there.”

“And I do? It’s a chemical burn, not a clicker bite. She’ll learn from it. Kids can’t be put in glass cages.” It’s here that you pretend not to see the flash in his eye at the mention of bites, meanwhile noticing a bad scrape on his forearm. Seeing your opening, you reach out to draw a finger over it. “Jesus, Joel. Look at this. This. See? We all have occupational hazards. Come on.”

With a sigh you turn and pad into the kitchen to your first aid drawer, taking a chance that pays off--you’re surprised to hear him actually following. It takes a minute to dress the wound and you’re not ginger about it–water, apple cider vinegar, gauze. It’s a quiet minute though, one you thought you could power through, and maybe you could have, if you were in anything more than a towel…or couldn’t hear him breathing…or feel it on your skin. Trying to play it cool and get a vibe check on him, you look up only to catch his eye shifting away from your bare shoulder back to your work on his arm.

It’s time to break the silence, but you don’t feel the need to be on the defense anymore.

“We don’t have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around, you know. Don’t let this stuff fester, okay, cinnamon roll? You and that daredevil kid are a matching pair, you know that?”

He only grunts, half rolling his eyes at you, jaw set, voice at a soft compromise. “Yeah, well, I don’t want her going back out there until she’s healed up. Limited use of both arms is a good path to more accidents.”

“Fair. You win. Summer’s pretty slow anyway. I could use the quiet.” Laying it on thick, you tie up the ends of the gauze before releasing him back into the wilds. “Warm sun, buzz of bees. Sweet smell of grass and lupines. Meadow’s a good place for afternoon naps. Easier to do without an apprentice yapping my ear off.”

He nods thoughtfully at this--your words showing their effect--and slowly turns and heads for the door.

And you smile knowingly as you watch him go.

“You know,” you call out just before he closes the door behind him, “door’s open at the Roost. You can always come out there with her if you’re so concerned. That is, if you don’t mind sleeping on a broke-down sofa on the porch.”

Without looking back, he pauses briefly in the patch of summer glare. Then he silently steps out and pulls the door shut, leaving only the click of the latch and the sunlight through the leaded glass.

Well. That certainly could have gone much worse.

________

At least you’re wearing more clothes when it finally does go worse.

“What happened here, squirt?” Tommy taps his fork on Ellie’s bandage at family dinner.

And Ellie answers with a light jab to his arm. “Ow, you dick! That hurts!”

“Ellie–” a scold in stereo from both you and Joel.

As her teacher, the admonishment was instinctual. But in current context, it may have been a breach of place. The table goes silent as Joel’s head snaps in your direction and everyone else’s eyes bounce between you two, utterly amused. There’s a moment when you’re afraid he might just continue to glare, but then he cracks half a smile, shakes his head, and goes back to shoveling a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth.

It’s a reaction that lets you know Joel’s forgiven you, back to allowing you to be a rearing force in Ellie’s life.

“Meadowlark let me do some target practice and I shot some squirrels for dinner. Had to bury the skin and bones with lye and I got burned. Oops.”

“Oh my god,” Maria chews. “Are you okay?”

Ellie gives her a precocious smile and follows it with sarcastic condescension. “Yes, I’m going to live. As long as some people let it heal and stop hitting me with sharp things because they think they’re funny and they’re not.”

Tommy sticks his tongue out at Ellie and Maria laughs at them both before getting up to go fetch another jar of pickles from the pantry, holding her growing belly and waving off her husband's attempts to help.

“Rabbit’s better eating,” Tommy points out, returning to the subject at hand.

Ellie pops a stringbean into her mouth, clearly in a good mood. “But their hides are useful. Don’t have to bury them.”

The moment after she says this is like a lightning flash, and your reaction matches hers as you both freeze, realizing what she’s just accidentally said.

“Squirrels are faster, smaller, better target practice,” you say, clearing your throat, trying to act casual.

Tommy shrugs and nods, agreeing, oblivious, going to town on his ear of corn.

But Joel’s gone still, staring you down across the table, then casts a glance at Ellie…and her arm.

Shit.

Tommy and Maria are blissfully unaware of Joel’s turn for the quiet during the rest of the meal, not that he’d been very talkative to begin with. But the hesitant glances and shy smiles are gone now, replaced with a restrained patience and a few calculating glances.

It’s Maria’s turn to wash and Tommy’s to dry and yours to clear the table. But with every trip into the kitchen, you glance through the window over the sink into the yard where Joel and Ellie are having a spirited conversation under the tree at the far end.

'Spirited conversation' might be too polite a term. More like a one-sided lecture. Soon enough you have the table wiped down and you’re making a bee-line out the back door while Tommy and Maria argue about the best technique for drying a glass.

“That is not okay,” Joel hisses, trying to keep his voice low, giving Ellie’s shoulder a rough shake. “What if something went wrong? Huh? You could have burned down to the bone!”

“Joel, Joel, hey,” you whisper as you come to complete the triad. “Don’t. She confided in me. It was my idea.”

Nostrils flaring, lips pressed together, head wagging, he glares. “Of all the reckless, stupid….”

“I wanted to!” Ellie pleads, and you shut her down.

“That’s true, but Joel’s right and I knew it. I shouldn’t have–”

“If you tell anyone–” he warns, his eyes going full retribution against you--a hot coil ready to spring--and it petrifies you, takes you by the heart and squeezes.

“She won’t! Joel!”

“She’d better not.”

It’s a tense moment, one that surprises you. Scares you. In the months you’ve known him, Joel’s been a quiet and withdrawn creature, opening up in increments as you’ve done your best to build your trust, taming him slowly week after week, hoping for nothing more than having him someday eating out of your palm, pushing his cheek into your hand for gentle reassurance…

But in one fell swoop you’re back at the starting line–beyond the starting line. The papa bear in him is showing, bearing its teeth, and you’ve spent too much time among sheep, forgetting the valuable lesson that wild animals can never truly be tamed.

“I will burn this place to the ground if you ever hurt another hair on her head.” The quiet threat is feral and stinging and steals your breath before it’s over.

The things he’s capable of...those things are here and now and he could do them all to you before you had the chance to run.

The way he looks at you pulls the heat from the earth.

Before you can break from your paralysis, they’re gone, Joel pushing Ellie out of the yard toward home.

The stars are coming out. If there are crickets, you don’t hear them. Every sense seems to have shifted into neutral. Except breathing. That comes back with a hunger.

“Joel and Ellie take off?” Tommy calls from the window.

“Yeahhhh,” you call back without turning. “Tired. The heat. Think I might head home too.”

“Take a jar of these pickles. We have too many and Maria can't stomach them right now. I’ve got pickles coming out my damn ears.”

“Okay. Thanks, T. Pickles. Will do."

________

The following few days are...confusing. You should go out and grab some supplies on the main street, but actually fear running into Joel or Ellie. It’s stupid, and it makes you angry; it’s not that you’re afraid of him, it’s just…

You’re disappointed in yourself. Because everything’s upset now. Sure, you wanted to get close to them, but you overstepped, put Ellie in danger, made Joel feel unsafe. Everyone should feel safe in Jackson. Everyone should feel safe in the meadow. And you took that away from him.

Joel.

Why him? What about him do you need to have so badly? Why do you feel the need to fix him? To give him that safety?

Because Joel and Ellie so badly need a home. And you have an excess of home within you.

And little else.

You’ve never been lonely before. Why now?

Something about them….just fits.

Or so you thought. Or may have thought. Before you ruined it.

It’s better to just sit home and knit. Winter will be here soon enough and people need sweaters, dammit. You have a job to do.

But you can’t stay hidden away forever, especially not when there’s a wedding in the community.

________

“Bear, Missy, you’ve said your vows in front of all of us here tonight. We are all witness to your commitment. All in agreement, say aye!”

“AYE!”

“And those of you who want to spoil this good time, say nay!”

Bear’s brother pipes up from the side of the mess hall. “Nay!”

“Shut up, you asshole,” Bear laughs.

“Perfection is tempting devils!” his brother teases.

“Let ‘em come,” Bear shouts. “I’ll tear ‘em all down for my lady love, the prettiest girl in Jackson!” There’s applause and laughter as he kisses his new bride and the mood shifts as he roars, “Drinking and dancing!!!”

“Ugh. Good thing Willa isn’t here to see this. She’d be so annoyed.” Maria yells in your ear over the din as you huddle around your favorite table at the back of the hall. “I thought Missy would never settle down.”

“Bear must earn his name in the sack,” you crack back at her, and she clinks her glass against yours in agreement.

Tommy and Joel sit across the table from you, facing away toward the front. But when Tommy turns to join in the conversation, Joel remains facing out to the crowd, watching as tables are pushed to the side to make a dance floor, quietly pulling sips from a frothy cider.

He’s still pissed at you.

“Where’s Ellie?” you ask Tommy, not even attempting to address the wall of Joel-shaped ice.

“Over beyond, with the other big kids.”

You don’t turn to look, but Joel does after hearing the comment, before turning back to watch the crowd.

A band strikes up. Friends stop by and chat. Some of Tommy and Joel’s work friends come and take over the table–the boys all getting loud and rowdy–so you and Maria escape to the edge of the dance floor, beverages in hand, dancing–but not really–in place.

“What’s going on?” Maria finally asks over the music and the general glee.

“Hmm?”

“You two keep watching each other, but you’re not talking. What’s going on.”

You can’t keep from glancing over at the table…again. You weren’t aware of him taking any interest in you though.

“We had an argument the other day. I think I fucked things up.”

She pulls a face, comically surprised. “I would have guessed the other way around, but okay. You push him too hard or something?”

“Something like that.”

Glancing back over her shoulder at Joel and then back at you, Maria gives you her lawyer face. “He’ll come around. Tommy says he’s the last person to apologize for anything and if he does, you know it means a big deal. But if you’re willing to extend the olive branch first, that can go a long way.”

“Well, maybe not tonight,” you sigh, stealing a glance, watching as he drains his glass. “He’s had a few.”

But you can’t even convince yourself, handing your drink to Maria as Joel sets down his glass, slaps the table and pushes himself up, leaning forward to wish his buddies a good night. You follow him out of the mess hall like some lovestruck teenager strung out on a last hope.

“Joel. Joel!” Catching up with him halfway down the block, the light and noise from the party still follows as you get out in front of him. “Joel, stop. I have to apologize to you. Please let me.”

Though he’s backlit, you can still make out his tired glare. “Don’t. It’s not necessary.”

“Of course it is. Ellie’s important to you. You're her guardian. It wasn’t my call to make. I’m sorry.”

He waits a moment before throwing you an irritated prompt. “But?”

“But? I don’t know. She was hot in that long sleeve shirt and she showed me her arm–I can’t imagine what she went through. I just felt for her. But I did have a gut reaction when she showed me, Joel. Anyone would, but most wouldn’t hesitate for long. And those bites could get her killed. All I wanted was for her to be free from that. To be a kid. I’d say I wasn’t thinking, but...I was, Joel. Fuck was I thinking. I was thinking about her just being a kid and not getting killed.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I guess. Except… I really don’t want you to punish her for my decision. She loves it out there. She thrives. And if you don’t trust me, my offer stands. Come with us. See for yourself.”

A huffed laugh. “Yeah? Do I get a callsign then?”

Your fatal flaw is jumping to the joke and the playful tease too soon, as you do now, anticipating his forgiveness. “Of course you do, grey fox.”

And that’s when he reaches out, pulls you close with strong hands.

Which would be exhilarating, if it wasn’t too close. And if his breath didn’t smell of cider.

“Why don’t you just take what you want,” he growls, quietly, coldly, jaw set, lips hardly moving.

It’s not fear that pings up your spine–now that you’ve had a taste of his anger and gotten over the initial shock from the other night, you know Joel won’t hurt you, not here, not as part of your found family, he knows better–

It’s bitter disappointment.

“What?”

His grip tightens, digs in. “It’s obvious what you want. Just go ahead. We’re both fucking lonely enough and I’m too old for games.”

He’s right here with you in the dark, his breath on your lips, your fingers twisting into the shoulders of his tshirt…but it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. And it’s hurting.

So you slowly push off his chest.

And the light from the mess hall hits your face again; something there causes his shoulders to drop, causes him to let you go.

A cheer rises up from the celebration that you’ve left behind, that you don’t feel like returning to, but neither can you be alone right now, so it’s likely your only choice.

“I’m not playing games, Joel. I never was. I like you. A lot. Both you and Ellie. I just didn’t want to spook you. But...I also don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. So…maybe I read you wrong. Or maybe we need different things.”

“What do you need?” It almost falls out of him, uncontrolled, unemotional, a gathering of facts.

And your answer comes the same way, surprising you as you’re sure his own question surprised himself.

“A home.”

It’s a quiet night, perfectly warm. You’re sure if you went home right now, the fireflies–the good kind–would be out in the back yard.

Instead, you give him a shellshocked nod–of finality, of punctuation–and follow your feet back toward the light, toward happiness and love that you can’t share at the moment. And you don’t look back.

________

When you don’t show up for family dinner that week, Maria comes knocking the next day.

Knocks, yes, but does not wait for an answer. In sisterly fashion, she makes straight for your wool room and sits calmly on the edge on the daybed there, staring at you as you mend a hole in a sweater.

“Missed you at our table last night.”

“I know.”

It doesn’t matter how hard she stares, you continue to avoid it and concentrate on the work in your hands.

“That was an invitation for you to explain.”

“I’m aware.”

“Girl–”

“I’m not getting along with Joel right now. Ellie has…this thing on her arm that she doesn’t want anyone to know about. You notice how she would wear long sleeves even in the heat? I felt bad for her. So I… suggested…the lye.”

This doesn't faze her. “It was on purpose. And Joel found out. I see.” Leaning back into the pillows with a pregnant grunt, she swings her feet up onto the daybed. “Is hiding helping? You know we all know where you live, right?”

“Are you really putting your muddy shoes on my quilt?”

“So you’re just going to avoid him.”

You squint at the binding. “I’m gonna have to raid the commissary for some better glasses. My eyesight’s getting out of hand.”

“You’re going to avoid us. Me and Tommy and Ellie.”

Letting out a huge sigh, you concede to her tenacity because she won’t stop until she gets what she wants. “For now.” When her tongue clicks, you finally look up. “Listen. I apologized and he’s still mad. I agree with you that he’ll get over it, but he hasn’t yet, and that means I haven’t either. And I’m not as good at turning on my bitch face as that one is.”

“So we shouldn’t expect you next week either.”

“Nope,” you pout, tackling the sweater again with focused frustration. “I traded with Goldie. Going out a week early.”

“You’re running away.”

“I’m stressed out and I need to not be here, yes!” You admit, throwing down the knitting. “What is the big deal? I don’t have to get along with everyone in Jackson! You don’t!”

You understand that flat look from her, known it since you were kids. She’s counting to 10, giving you the chance to calm down so one of you can speak the truth and speak it calmly.

“But you want to get along with Joel.”

Of course she was going to say that. Because it’s what you’re thinking and not wanting to say out loud and she can read you like a book.

“Yeah. I really do. You know I do.”

“Okay,” she says, pushing herself up with effort and crossing the room to kiss her fingers and press–nay, slap–them to your forehead before heading out. “Go on and go to your happy place. Go calm down in your little clubhouse. I was just worried about you is all. Brought you leftovers. They’re on the counter.”

“Thanks. You’re too good to me. As always. Love you.”

“I know. As always. Love you too.”

________

At the end of the week you’re up early, your pack and rations slung over your back, pistol on one hip, making your way to the stables while the town’s still quiet, before anyone can notice you going. Your boots crunch on the dirt road in lieu of the birdsong from those lazy bitches not even up yet, the dawnlight casting Jackson in blues and blacks, like a new-world mid-era Picasso.

The problem is, you know all of these blues and blacks, all these shapes and shadows. There’s a new one this morning, something leaning up against the stable door.

And it’s shaped like a fourteen year old girl with a couple of bags.

As you approach, Ellie tips away from the wall, standing upright, waiting until you come to a stop in front of her.

“Joel said I could go with you.”

“It’s a week early.”

“Yep.”

It’s too early in the morning for exasperated sighs, but here you are. “Maria or Tommy?”

“Tommy.”

“Figures. Big fucking mouth.”

“Yep.”

She waits patiently for it to sink in.

Once it does, you pull the walkie off your belt.

“Meadowlark to Chickadee. ETA 30, towing a Starling in behind me.”

________

“So what did you say to him to get him to change his mind?” Ellie takes your fishing rod so you can pull off your boots and roll up your pants.

“Me? I figured it was you said something.” Wading out into the stream at this little ripple point is harder than it looks. The rocks are sharper here, full of crannys that are equally as good for fish to hide in as they are to turn an ankle. It doesn’t help that the setting sun is throwing shadows that make it harder to determine what’s what. “I haven’t talked to him in weeks. Not since Bear’s wedding. Keep that line taut.”

“According to Maria, you haven’t talked to anyone lately.”

“I had knitting to do,” a dismissal as you follow the line out into the current. “There are hardly any weeds out here; what did this dang hook snag on? A rock?”

“Well, he finally admitted that masking the scar was a good thing. I told him I want to get a tattoo over it. He said no.”

You laugh, tugging at the line, teetering on a flatter stone. “Of course he did. But that’s a good thing. Tattoo’s a permanent mark. Good to have an excuse to think long and hard about what you’d want. Willa’s great with nature stuff. She could probably do you a bird or a tree or something.”

“I was thinking maybe the moon. Or like, a machete.”

“Of course you were. Oh, oh... hang on, I think I’ve found it.” Reaching down under one of the rocks, you follow the fishing line, but it doesn’t seem to have an end. “Well, where the hell?”

“Uhhhhh,” Ellie points to the water at your feet. “I think it found you.”

A fine red ribbon of blood floats away on the current and you follow it upstream to your foot. More specifically, the inner part of your big toe. “Well shit. Did I just catch my own damn self?”

“Catch of the day!” Ellie laughs. “I bet you fry up real tough. Does it hurt?”

“Didn’t even feel it, water’s too cold. Get your knife and cut the line so I don’t get all tangled.”

Once you’re back on shore and take stock, it’s obvious some tools are needed. “Run and get me the wire cutting pliers, the vinegar jug, and the first aid kit, will you?”

Ellie’s off like a shot on youthful legs, making short work of the errand while you keep your foot in the stream and tend to her line. But once she’s back and opens the kit, her face twists into a frown. “Aren’t there supposed to be bandages in here?”

“What?” Snipping the hook in two you slide it out the easy way as Ellie watches in morbid fascination. “There’s not?”

“Nope. Plenty of cleanser and some needle and thread, but no bandages.”

“Shit. I suppose we never restocked it after Willa set you up. Well, I’ll just have to bleed into my sock for the time being and find something up at the Roost.” Ellie moves to help you, but you hold a hand up and go for the walkie. “Hey. Meadowlark to Goldie.”

The walkie comes to life, garbled, full of noise.

“Goldie? Meadowlark to Goldfinch.”

A couple of seconds pass. “Sorry, Goldfinch here. Was in the tavern and there’s an arm wrestling competition in there. Lots of yelling.”

“Really? Who’s winning?”

“Right now it’s Bear. What’s up?”

“Oh, I never restocked the first aid kit after Ellie’s mishap and we’re needing clean bandages. Can you send some along on patrol tomorrow?”

“Sure. Everything alright out there?”

“Yeah, I just stepped on a fishhook.”

“Well, why the hell did you do that?”

“You know, the usual. Shits and giggles.”

“You do you. Don’t ever change. I’ll send some supplies along.”

“Thanks. Put a wager down on Bear for me. Meadowlark out.”

“Will do. Goldfinch gone.”

“Alright, kid,” you groan, hanging onto her shoulder and pulling yourself up, “Bring in your line and let’s take what we got and get a supper going.”

________

The next day, you drop a few old carrots over the balcony railing. “Ellie! Take these with you! You’ll tame that skittish one sooner or later; keep trying!”

The girl scoops up the veggies and trudges out through the pasture, heavy not with the task of doing the rounds by herself but due to the heat. At least she can wear short sleeves now, even if the bandage gets questions. But you suspect she enjoys the clout and attention she gets out of the burn.

Thank goodness she’s here. Your injury gets angry when you walk. So Ellie's tasked with the rounds and taking stock while you elevate the foot and get caught up on some spinning.

Not that there’s any hurry to do so. As you lean on your arms against the balcony railing a little breeze kicks up. Content for the moment, you let it bring you a little coolness, a little movement, the rising and falling music of this year’s batch of cicadas. The meadow's pretty this summer, all purples and reds, festooned with lupine and Indian paintbrush and the air at the Roost smelling like the pines that grow around it.

“Patrol to Meadowlark.”

Damn. You left the walkie on the table inside. Guess the decision’s been made for you to get your ass moving. That’ll be a delivery coming in and you hobble on over to answer.

"Patrol here. You there, Meadowlark?"

“Sorry. Meadowlark here.”

“Sending Joel Miller in with supplies at the north gate.”

That’s…not what you expected. But…wow. Really? Has your heart stopped, or is it just going really fast?

“Put him on the walkie.”

Who cares what you’re heart’s doing, your face is gonna cramp from the smile.

“Hey. It’s me,” he answers, gentle, penitent.

“Me who.”

“Joel.”

So he's olive branching first. Well, he'll have to earn it.

“Yeah, about that, we have procedures around here. Callsign or bust, sir.”

You can almost hear his eyes rolling, but it sounds like he’s up for the challenge.

“Seriously.”

“Sure.”

“Jesus. This is…Grey Fox. Coming in at the north gate. Happy?”

“I will be. Meadowlark out.”

Tottering gingerly back out to the balcony, you land heavily on the old green broke-down sofa. There’s no need to bring the rifle. Even if he was being pursued by a pack of raging clickers, Joel is certain to carry a gun, and certain to use it confidently.

A few slow minutes tick by in the sun and a cicada buzzes in from nowhere to attach itself to one of the balcony supports. The big bug breathes for a minute, its iridescent wings still twitching with the effort of hoisting that bulky little body.

And then, in your eyeline just past the cicada, there’s movement.

Joel coming out of the north woods.

He’s on foot. Green plaid and jeans wading through the flowered fields. With his shirtsleeves rolled up on purpose to let those brown arms and big hands of his swing. With not just the one, but two rifles on his back? Isn’t that a bit overkill?

Wait. One of them’s not a rifle. It’s…a guitar.

Well. Someone’s planned to make himself at home.

Your smile earns more real estate.

Good.

Soon he’s close enough for you to make out his grey curls shifting in the breeze. Then he disappears under the Roost, only to transform into the sound of heavy footfalls on the ladder.

Propping your chin on your forearms crossed over the back of the sofa, you watch through the front windows as he steps into the room and takes it in with a carpenter’s eye. He stops in silent appreciation, gaze scrolling the woodwork, the joints, posts, slope of the peak. The woodstove catches his notice and he taps the tile beneath it with his boot, his interest trailing up the pipe, squinting at the trap around the exhaust. His bottom lip pushes up in approval and he nods, surveying the windows now…and stops when he sees you.

“Hey there, Cinnamon Roll. Welcome to the Roost.”

A half-hidden smile. Without a word, he untangles himself out of his gear, digging through his knapsack and retrieving a box before coming out onto the balcony and making his way over to you. Swiping a hand through the air, he motions for you to move your knee so he can sit beside you, then pulls your foot up into his lap and takes a look over your makeshift bandage–the sleeve of an old blouse–before starting to unwrap it.

It hurts. But you let him.

"Who told you I needed a first aid kit?"

"Was at the tavern when Goldie got the call. Heard it myself. Where’s Ellie?”

“She’s making the rounds. Just left before you came in."

He grunts an acknowledgement, focusing on your toe, moving it so he can assess the wound a little better. A little wince; he can tell it hurts. Grabbing a tiny bottle of cleansing agent and a fresh bandage, he gets to work.

“Just so you know,” he grumbles, “we don’t have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around. You shouldn’t let this stuff fester.”

He must see your smirk from the corner of his eye. He matches it with his own.

“You using my words against me now, Dr. Miller?”

“Not at all. Just passing on some valuable knowledge that was gifted to me.”

He works quietly, carefully wrapping the toe, then your foot, splinting it in a way that should make it easier to walk on. Obviously not the first time he’s cared for a wound. He must have seen a lot out there in his wilder days.

“This one was truly an accident. For real this time,” you attest.

But his smile burns off to the stone underneath.

His sincerity precedes him. “I’m sorry.”

An apology. From Joel Miller. For what? Not trusting you? Keeping Ellie away? Speaking to you the way he did? You assume it’s all of the above. But it isn’t necessary to ask for clarification; you only want to put the missteps behind you and get on with leaning on each other.

“You’re staying, right?”

He nods once to you, then to the sofa. “This where I’m sleeping?”

“I mean, if you want one of our beds, that’s fine, you’ll just have to fight us for it. In which case, you might as well give up now.”

“No, it’s okay. It’ll be like sleeping under the stars.” He stares out at the mountains over the meadow, watching the shadow of a cloud roll over it, your foot warm between his hands, a thumb absently rubbing at the bandage. “This is nice out here. Quiet. I’m not used to it. But it’s good.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit I do better with some wide open spaces. And fewer people to share it with.”

Two lines form above the bridge of his nose. “Ellie told me about your ranch. Your family. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t worth being sorry.”

He's got you there. “Everyone’s lost something. Someone. Several someones. The whole world’s a little sorry. But I appreciate it. It means we’re all in it together, those of us left." You make a study of him, his solemn nod, the way the sun glints off his watch. “I’m glad you took me up on my invitation, Joel. It’ll be nice having you here, being out here together.”

And then he turns to you, making his own study of you, as if watching your clouds roll away too.

“I agree.”

________

“Now, the E7 is the same as the E, you just pick up that third finger. Good. Now let’s do a three-four, E7, A, E.”

As the sun starts to set, your eyes have had enough of the spindle for one day and you’re cleaning up while Joel and Ellie muck around with his guitar out on the balcony. She’s a quick study, even if some of the chords are more difficult than others for her small hands, and it’s obvious he’s been working with her on it for a while.

Using a walking stick that Joel made from a pine branch–stripping the bark and wrapping one end with duct tape for a sliverless handle–you put together a little plate of berries and cheese, sling a thermos full of sun tea under your arm, and head out to the balcony.

“That's it. Thumb, wrist, wrist,” Joel coaches Ellie in a waltz strum as you hand off the treats to him and take a spot at the railing for one last survey of the meadow before the twilight goes. “That’s good. Keep that up, just like that. Hey there, songbird,” he drawls at you, “you know any Hank Williams?”

Rather than turn to him with a smile, you give it to the meadow, but let him hear it in your voice. “Do I? My dad grew up in Montana in the 50s and 60s. What do you think I was raised on?”

“Well go on then. You should know this one.”

Now that you’re truly listening and realize the chords he’s been working her through, you certainly do.

Ellie must have told him how you like to sing out here. So you do.

“Hear that lonesome whippoorwill, He sounds too blue to fly. The midnight train is whining low, I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

Joel encourages Ellie to keep going, and to add a B7 in at the end. “Go on,” he prompts to you when you turn around, smiling blithely as his two girls make him a pretty song to listen to.

“I've never seen a night so long When time goes crawling by. The moon just went behind the clouds To hide its face and cry.

“Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? That means he's lost the will to live; I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

“The next verse is the last one, so play her out on some single rising notes and hit the final chord.”

Ellie bites her bottom lip and nods, taking the cue, but she doesn’t need to look at her hands anymore as she’s getting the hang of it, and instead smiles as you take on her favorite subject.

“The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky, And as I wonder where you are… I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

Her outro could use a little work, but it suffices and you give her due applause. “How are those fingers doing?”

She takes stock of her hands. “Look. Calluses.”

“You’ve got some work to do before you can call those welts calluses,” Joel teases.

“Well, I think she’s earned a treat. I didn’t bring those out here for you to hoard ‘em.”

Ellie balances the guitar against the arm rest and Joel hands over the plate, stealing a cherry and popping it into his mouth. Bringing her feet up, Ellie rests the plate on her knees and settles against Joel’s shoulder, smiling, content, proud of her progress, eating her reward and watching the night come on.

It’s such an intimate father-daughter scene that you’re about to go indoors and let them enjoy the view together. But then Joel moves his foot slightly as if to block your path. Catches your eye. Drapes his free arm over the back of the sofa and glances pointedly at his free shoulder, then back at you with a jerk of his head as if to say, You too, get in here, this one’s yours.

You do not have to be told twice.

Settling in with a long sigh, you don’t pay much attention as Ellie starts recounting everything she knows and doesn’t know about the first moon landing. You’re more interested in the way your cheek fits into Joel’s shoulder, and how his arm lays heavy and warm over yours, how his chest rumbles when he answers Ellie’s questions and laughs at her sass. How the shadows spill over the butte and pull through everything until they are everything.

And you notice how the moonlight reflects off the plate in Ellie’s hand, off the tuning keys of the guitar…and yet…it’s missing in one place it should be.

Joel’s wrists are bare.

Joel is laughing. And his wrists are bare.

________

Picking up his watch where it’s been living on the little table all week, you pack it into Joel’s knapsack on the last morning before heading out.

“Goldie’ll be here soon. You see Joel come back from the rounds yet?”

Ellie shakes her head as she’s packing her bag. “Nope. Went out an hour or two ago. You want me to go get him?”

Taking his bag and your own to the balcony, you throw them over the side to the forest floor below. “I’ll go. Been on my ass all week. I could use the walk.” You hand her the walkie on the way out, trusting her to take the incoming hail.

Fastest way to find someone on rounds is to walk the opposite direction, so you head south to the stream.

You don’t have to go far.

A group of sheep have gathered in the grass halfway between the Roost and the water, lazing peacefully as if gathered for a little tea party, and you can guess what they’re all discussing.

There, in the middle of their protective huddle, is the man you’ve been waiting for all this time; shoes off, one arm slung above his head, asleep in the sun and the warm, fragrant grass, as if he grabbed your description of the meadow and ran with it, needing the nap of a lifetime.

At first you keep your distance, not wanting to startle him. But then you realize that it might take more than your approach and a couple soft bleats from a lamb to wake him.

Especially with his good ear turned to the ground like that.

Safe. Warm. Content.

Goldie will be coming soon, but you’ll be able to see her from here. No need to wake him yet.

There’s time enough to just sit and shade his face from the sun, watch the steady rise and fall of his hand on his belly, and whisper a little prayer of thanks to the earth and wind and sky–hell, even to the sheep–that Joel and Ellie found their way to Jackson.

And that you found your way to them.

Good. Everyone's got a good reason to keep going then.

________

Lyrics from "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" by Hank Williams

PREVIOUS: SPRING

NEXT: AUTUMN

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

(artwork by @stealyourblorbos)

#leave off your wandering #tlou fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x meadowlark

[holdmeiamscared]

OMNIPOTENT— homelander x reader #2

this is part two to my first bullshit rambling that you can find here: homelander x reader

the start of this picks up like a month after where the first one left off. this one is also ~3k words so like grab a snack 😬

⚠️: pre-season one, CANNON DIVERGENCE, threats of bodily harm, reader is more fem! presenting in this one but only in the beginning and during the sex part, reader is fuckin’ unhinged, reader is the guardian of their nephew (who is named in the fic), reader’s whole immediate family (minus their nephew) is deceased, homelander is his own warning, intercourse, oral (homelander eats pussy don’t argue with me)— fem bodied reader, praise, homelander’s mommy kink is in full swing now (soft dom! reader), homelander is still literally obsessed, reader is a jealous bitch, homelander and reader are toxic together, reader is in a fist fight with their feelings for homelander (reader loses), Madelyn Stillwell is manipulative, and also prolly (definitely) fucked homelander.

when you were still young, toeing on the line of being a woman, but still not old enough people treated you like one, your grandmother explained to you why she gained the nerve to finally leave your grandfather.

you were innocent then, bright eyed and unaware of how the real world hurt. you were unaware of how it would break you— how it would turn you into someone you barely recognize.

she had told you then, as a warning of some sort, “a golden cage, is still just a cage.” she looked sick to her stomach when she’d said it. the look in her eyes, the one you hadn’t understood all those years ago, it haunted you now— every night.

she’d died before she could see the woman you had become— before she could see the rest of your family die off slowly. some fucked up part of you was glad for that, your grandmother was a saint— she wouldn’t have deserved that pain.

but part of you was also jealous of her— she was spared the heartbreak of it all. she didn’t have to witness death after death after death, and she didn’t have to witness you lose your freedom.

but now, as an adult in a very tricky situation, you understood what she meant about golden cages.

the homelander hadn’t locked you up though, at least, not yet.

he let you keep living the way you had before— let you keep your freedom, but maybe that was somehow worse.

the fear of doing something to upset him, doing something to make him irrational, was always present. like you were walking on a microscopic trip wire— one that was attached to the biggest bomb known to man.

but still, he was so good to you, good to Jaxon. he was everything you could have imagined your spouse to be when you were a child, if you ignored the homicidal tendencies, of course.

despite all of his flaws, he wanted you; he loved you and Jaxon— he took care of the both of you. John was part of your family now, he was part of you, he was part of Jax.

he was ingrained in both of your lives— like a parasite.

sure, the homelander was a full-fledged psychopath, but he was yours.

maybe a golden cage wasn’t so bad when it came hand in hand with love— with family.

————

you were sure of one thing, and one thing alone— you didn’t like Madelyn Stillwell, not one fucking bit.

you hadn’t known her well enough before John to make such a brave statement, you still didn’t if you were honest, and despite your fear of sounding envious— you couldn’t help but to think of her as a snake in the fucking grass. venomous— just fucking dangerous.

somehow, she’d dug her manicured nails right into the homelander’s rib cage— and you wanted them out.

today was one of the scariest days of your life, to date. homelander had corralled you into a corner and declared that you two were now official. he didn’t even ask you— he told you, and you had hastily agreed in fear of upsetting him.

homelander kissed you breathless after you hesitantly agreed, the heat of his cock dragging along the length of your thigh, likely a desperate tease—after all, you hadn't fucked him since the first time, almost a month ago.

if the way he jerked when your hands groped at his biceps told you anything, it was that he was losing every lingering shred of his patience. he wanted you again and it made you dizzy— it made you delirious. you were drunk off the very thought of him pleading for you like he had before.

John pulled back as quickly as he started, hips grinding into you one last time, almost involuntarily. he heaved a sigh of your name— all rumpled and looking thoroughly kissed. you melted at the sight, humming happily up at him.

once the heat had vanished from under your skin, the first thing you wanted to do was tell Jaxon— he would be fucking ecstatic that you were finally in a proper relationship with the homelander.

however, the first thing John wanted to do was tell everyone. he wanted the whole fucking world to know who you were, who you loved— who you were loved by.

he was practically dragging you to her office before you knew it, all long limbs and pushy words about how he loved you, about how he wanted to show you off to the world— how it was only fair because you’re his now.

even as the elevator dinged, signaling your arrival to the correct floor— he was still speaking about how the two of you looked so fucking good together and how his fans deserved to see you, on his arm—where you belonged.

the ranting had continued right into her office, and Madelyn had forced a smile in your direction after homelander finished speaking.

she stood quickly, pausing to smooth the wrinkles in her pretty little dress, and once she had collected herself, she sternly told John— absolutely not. the tone she used left no room for question, she wouldn’t allow this— you and the homelander could never be together in public.

she said it with a sweet, motherly smile— and it made you sick. you can still recall the exact look in John’s eyes when she told him he could never go public with you, of all people.

she had said your name incorrectly, motioning to you with a vague indifference, and it made your blood run cold. that icy feeling in your veins didn't last long, because John corrected her on your name sharply.

you almost preened for him—almost.

she had nodded along, like she actually cared, before starting on a long-winded rant about how this was an awful idea.

she said you would ruin his image, that just being seen with you would drop him in the polls. she said he would lose his adoring fans, that they would think he was lesser than he was— because he fell in love with a nobody.

you didn’t like how sharp her words were— you didn't like how much they bothered you.

you didn’t like that she was looking down her nose at you— like you were insignificant.

you didn't like her.

that mean snear, the same one you’d used on homelander, the same one you had mastered when your grandmother died, masked the hurt on your face— this bitch didn’t even know you. how fucking dare she.

you were expecting John to explode into a rage, after all, if the homelander was anything, it was unreasonable— but he didn’t.

you had braced yourself for war, already mapping a way to escape, looking for a place to hide— but he didn’t do anything.

that almost hurt more than being talked to like you were lesser.

the way he so easily gave up on his plan to announce you as the love of his life— it made something churn in your stomach, something bitter.

and despite the way her words stung, the way it hurt that homelander didn’t fight for it, for you— you were happy with the decision to keep your relationship under wraps.

it was better this way— for the sake of Jaxon’s privacy. you’d explained that to homelander later— you wanted Jaxon to be normal. you didn’t want him to worry about people wanting to be his friend for what he had, for who he was.

“can you imagine how children would react if homelander’s self-declared nephew was in their class?” a smug grin pulls at his pretty lips, “he’d be the coolest kid in that whole fucking shitty school.” you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “they’d use him, John. he wouldn’t have any real friends.”

but that look in homelander’s eyes, it haunted you, it haunted you just like that look your grandmother gave you all those years ago.

that very night, his eyes take the place of your grandmother's.

the emotion in his eyes when he looked at her wares at you until you’re angry enough it fucking aches.

he looked so complicit, and all you can think about is that he looked at you like that once— when he was under you.

you didn't let John know that you saw it, but it eats at you.

it tears into you, burrowing fury into your skin all night long— it worms its way into your chest until you feel like you aren’t good enough.

you hate that feeling.

you decide that the homelander has a thing for Madelyn Stillwell.

and you don’t fucking like that.

————

the next day comes with more feelings you thought you would never experience for homelander.

when you notice Madelyn heading your way, you can't help the way your grip tightens against homelander's arm.

she looks happy, at least that’s how she appears in your mind, as she greets him with a smile, “thank you for having dinner with me last night, homelander.”

if homelander notices the way you stiffen next to him— he doesn’t show it. rage pools in your stomach, burning you up from the inside out— so hot it hurts. that bastard.

John had shown up late to your so called ‘family dinner’ last night. he’d made idle conversation with Jaxon about school, picking at his plate until you worried you had made him something he didn’t like.

now this, this made fucking sense.

he’d already eaten.

your blood pressure is on the rise, and this time— you know he knows. his free hand rubs at the one you have gripping at his forearm. it's an attempt to calm you, to quell your worries.

it doesn’t work.

all you feel is acid-soaked hostility and white-hot hatefulness rising from a pit you swore you’d locked up long ago.

you shake off the homelander’s grip, muttering about how you should be going back to work, and you hurry your way through the halls until you’re far enough away you can’t taste the anger anymore.

when you recline against a wall, steading your breathing, you try to remind yourself that you’re trapped with him— that he won’t let you go. you remind yourself that your love for him is fake— that you are nothing but a little bird, locked in your pretty golden cage.

but those thoughts, as true as they are, they don’t help.

later that day, despite your internal struggle, the petty part of you— the part that wants revenge, wins.

you pick Jaxon up from school, settling him in the back of your car with nothing but smiles and light laughter. then, when he asks you what you are planning for dinner, you answer him easily, one of your saccharine smiles pulling at your lips until your cheeks hurt, "i thought we would go out somewhere tonight. wherever you want, baby."

Jaxon asks if Uncle John will be there, and you have to fight off your smug grin. no, he won't. he can't be seen in public with you.

you and Jaxon are both nobodies, after all.

if the homelander wants to play— you can fucking play.

————

you only realize how stupid you are when you pulled into the drive of your ratty old house, hours after you were supposed to have dinner together.

you notice quickly that the kitchen light is on, and you can only imagine how much trouble you've gotten yourself into.

you let Jax go in first, let him greet homelander happily.

Jaxon is all smiles and hugs for his dear Uncle fucking John and despite yourself, when you catch sight of him, your anger dissipates. you greet him the same way you always do, with a sweet kiss and a murmured, 'hi, sweetheart.'

he's tense tonight— pulling you into a solid hug, his hands gripping at you too tightly for you to be comfortable.

it's a fucking threat, you know it is, but you don't waver—continuing to smile felicitously up at him.

it's only after Jaxon goes upstairs to bathe that John confronts you, and he's all malice hidden behind a soft smile, "where'd you go tonight, honey?"

your heart skips a beat, but not from fear, no— it's from excitement.

you peer up at him, every bit sweet, your lashes fluttering in the way you know makes you look faultless, "we went to Jaxon's favorite restaurant. sorry, sweetie— i figured you might have eaten somewhere else."

if the look in his eyes tells you anything, it's that he caught on to your jab, and he doesn't like the tone of your voice.

in response, you coo up at him, trying to dissipate the anger you see in his eyes with your cloying words, “i love you, John.”

he can't bring himself to stay mad at you— not when you say his name like that.

————

now, it's the next day and even after staying up half the night, telling yourself that Madelyn Stillwell wouldn't bother you anymore— you can't help the vexation you feel.

you had agreed to lunch with John— not with her.

she looks pleased to be sat next to him, successfully giving you no other choice but to settle in the seat across from homelander.

you're determined to cut this as short as possible, even if you have to fake an illness. which now, watching as she wraps her hand around his bicep— might not be so fake.

you're tense, pulled taught like a bow— ready to fucking snap.

you don't want to seem rude, but honestly, you’re on the verge of spooning out your own eyes.

in the heat of your jealousy, you don't hide your distaste— you move to leave, a tight smile marring your normally charming face.

a second passes when the homelander realizes you’re planning on leaving— and you think that he might actually let you go. you’re wrong, and his voice stops you dead on your feet, animosity thick in every word, every syllable, "honey—where are you going?"

you turn, voice thick with allure, you’re all doe-eyes and fake sugary innocence— you’re just fucking tempting him, " 'm just going to the bathroom, baby."

when you walk away, your hips sway in the way you know will keep his attention, the way you know will remind him of how they looked dropping in a steady rhythm against his.

after you turn the corner, the smugness, the tickle of revenge— it returns.

you don't come back to finish lunch with them.

————

later in the day, it's only fitting that he catches up to you when you're really in the bathroom.

probably some fucked up karma for telling him that was where you were going when you'd escaped all those hours ago at lunchtime.

the homelander is upset with you.

he's seething, lips curled up into a snarl, voice booming in the open space, and as much as you hate yourself for it, it fucking turns you on.

"just going to the fucking bathroom, huh?"

you blink owlishly up at him, feeling sticky on the inside when his leather clad hand rumples up his hair, "i told you where i was going— i didn't say i was coming back."

that's all it takes for his hands to slam against the tiles of the sink, the ceramic creaking under the pressure, "do you think you're fucking funny? i let you get away with dinner for Jaxon— but this? this?"

the homelander anticipates you to answer with your own anger.

he's come to expect that of you. you don't outwardly fear him and you never back down from an argument.

you're a goddamn luntic— and he fucking loves that about you.

but you don't yell.

you bite back your anger, and instead of raising your voice, you answer in a soft, honeyed one— one dripping saccharine syrup, "do you love me, sweet boy?"

it shoots heat down the homelander’s spine, makes his thoughts slow— you’re a fucking tease. he can hear your footsteps bringing you closer when he doesn’t respond. when you touch him, no hesitance in your movement, he sinks in to the feeling.

your hands brush against the eagles on his broad shoulders, trailing a path straight to his chest, and you linger there, kneading at the muscle— he short fucking circuits.

you shift yourself until you’re caged between his body and the sink, mouth parting in another question, “huh, baby? you love mommy?”

it’s a calculated risk— but a still a risk.

it fucking works.

the homelander’s bottom lip quivers, cerulean eyes darkening at the very sound of the word.

his quivering hands move from the tile of the bathroom sink to squeeze at the fat of your hips, “of course i love you.”

your gaze turns predatory and you push yourself up to sit on the sink, to level with him. your mouth hovers close to his, close enough you can feel his balmy breaths against your cupid’s bow— close enough you can feel the stutter in his breathing, but not close enough to kiss him the way he wants.

you stop to thank whatever fucker sitting up in the sky that you wore a skirt today.

it rides up slowly as you shift— the doughy fat of your thigh rippling invitingly with each movement. the motion catches his eye, draws his attention away from your mouth, and you can hear the hitch of breath in his throat— the desperate little noise that follows, “did you miss mommy’s pussy, John?”

he's nodding in agreement, hazy-eyed and oh so soft. you almost feel bad for him— almost.

you lean close, mouthing at the lobe of his ear, until his hands grope at the softness of your thighs, "you wanna taste it, honey?"

another nod is all you receive in response, but that isn't enough for you— not this time.

"c'mon sweetheart, mommy wants to hear you use your words," your hands trail from their perch on his chest to grope at the thick line of his cock, pressing out so temptingly from his groin of his suit, lining the curve of his hip, "tell me, sweet boy."

the noise he makes is so fucking depraved, and you feel it again— that omnipotent feeling in your chest.

it's delicious. he's delicious.

you're going to rip those manicured fingers out of his ribs— and you’re going to replace them with your fucking own.

"please— wanna taste it."

you don't deny him— you can't. you're just as desperate, thoughts sluggish and disgruntled as you spread yourself open.

your shaky hands pull at your underwear, and John, he's watching— watching as the strands of your slick break from the movement, watching as the translucent fibrils stick your soft skin.

he's looking at you like you're a goddamn masterpiece— and you fucking are.

you almost lose the control you have over him when his knees hit the floor, mouth opening to lap at the confection of you like you're the first thing he's tasted all day.

you attempt to gather yourself, but the sloppy drag of his tongue is so distracting, "gentle, John— mommy needs you to be gentle."

he does as you ask almost instantly, suckling at the most tender parts of you with the considerateness you had almost forgotten he has.

not long after that, you let him press your back to the mirror, you let him tug you to the edge of the sink, you let him hook your thighs around his hips— and you let him fuck you in the bathroom right down the hall from Madelyn Stillwell's office.

but it isn't as rushed as the first time, this time it's tender— soft and with each press of his hips into yours, with the homelander’s cock sinking impossibly deeper with each stroke, you forget each and every one of the worries that had been plaguing your thoughts for days.

in fact, you forget the reason you were so upset in the first place.

when his leather garbed hand tangles in your hair to pull you impossibly closer, to touch every part of you to him— to fuck you so thoroughly that the only thing you can think of is him, the homelander— your sweet boy, you can’t help the way your hips begin to roll down into his with a choked noise in your chest— you sound fucking depraved too.

the homelander mouths at where your pulse races in your throat, muffling the whimpers of your name falling from his lips— and you can't help but to think that this, this is bliss.

————

and now, as you help John fix his hair, that feeling of dread returns like a slow icy drip in your veins.

your jealousy has been mended— your thoughts are no longer irrational.

and your need for verification, the pettiness that let you to this situation, that got you stuck even deeper in his maw, it’s fucking gone.

but the way he looks at you—the crazed love in his eyes— the obsession, it's still there, and it terrifies you.

so when he bares down on you, mouth still carrying the tang of your arousal, the only thing you can hear is your grandmother's voice ringing through the emptiness of the bathroom.

you're looking up at John, but all you see is her, her with that evocative look in her eyes.

"i’ve been thinking, sweetheart,” bile rises in your throat, “you and Jaxon should move out of that shitty old house before it fucking falls in on you.”

you smile up at him, nervous about what he’s planning, “we don’t have anywhere else to go, John.”

the homelander tugs you closer, eyes dark with a silent threat, a threat that’s on standby for if you dare oppose him, “ah— but you do, honey. you can just come live with me.”

a golden cage, is still just a cage.

(PART THREE)

#homelander x reader #the boys homelander x reader #the boys #homelander #the homelander #the homelander x reader #homelander smut

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Active Authors Masterlist (3)

Part 1 / Part 2 /

***Active (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer who has updated within the past year. Inactive (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer that has not been updated at all in the past year+. On THG Writing Hiatus (on this blog) is a blog/writer who has updated within the past year but has not posted a fanfic in the fandom in the past year BUT they may return to writing in the future. Lists will be updated as needed based on activity. ***

Created: November 17th, 2023

Last Checked:----

ipsygrace :: ao3, ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: Peeta's Games: The Hunger Games from Peeta's point of view. This follows the original work as closely as possible and much of the dialogue is taken from the original and owned entirely by Suzanne Collins. (@igsy-blog)

JHsgf82 :: ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: What's Mine Is Yours: Peeta's POV. Post-Mockingjay/Pre-Epilogue. A pregnant Katniss is feeling sick and scared. Peeta does his best to care for her while dealing with his own fears. Response to the Fluff Drabble Prompt: “This was my lap. Now apparently this is your lap.” (@jhsgf82)

JLaLa :: ao3, ffnet, tumblr

Popular Fic: Two Wrongs: “Katniss, you’re my best friend and I love you but seriously-marry you?” A marriage for the unmarriageable. Modern Day AU, set in San Francisco. (@jlalafics)

katnissdoesnotfollowback :: ao3, ff.net, tumblr

Popular Fic: Wrapped in Red: Katniss is trying to be a good friend to her recently divorced pal. She really is. But this holiday season, fate, her own feelings, and Peeta’s daughter have other plans. An advent style Everlark story. (@katnissdoesnotfollowback)

katnissmellarkkk AKA VanillaCottonCandy  :: ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: Gravity: But he just stares at me for a long moment, his smile never wavering, then admits simply, "I'm just so happy that I threw you that bread." I feel my chest constrict, both moved by his words and exhausted from even standing inside this place again. And my eyes overflow then and all I can manage to say is, "so am I." / Katniss and Peeta, growing back together through a series of snapshots. Set Post Mockingjay. (@katnissmellarkkk)

LemonLuvGirl :: ao3, ffnet, tumblr

Popular Fic: Both of Us: An alternate ending to Catching Fire in which both Peeta and Katniss are rescued from the arena during the Quarter Quell. Our lips collide with gentle urgency, two half conscious minds struggling in the murky waters between sleeping and waking, layered with a need for comfort and something more. We kiss until he pulls back, panting, angling his hips away from mine. I know what he’s trying to avoid. He doesn’t want to scare me. But the thought of his body reacting to me isn’t nearly as scary as the idea that we almost never got to have this. (@lemonluvgirl)

LilyMaid :: ao3, tumblr, ff.net

Popular Fic: The Awkward In-between: Days after winning the 74th Hunger Games Katniss recognized her life was changing, not just her home. She was already mourning for that old life, when things were difficult, yet so simple. With a tightening in her chest and a fear she didn't understand, she wondered what would be left. Cannon Divergent AU- pre Catching Fire (@wistfulweaverwoman)

loungemermaid :: ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: no grave could hold my body down (I'll crawl home to her): Finnick makes his way back to Annie, alive but in several pieces. He loses his right arm and leg to the lizard mutts in the sewer. While Thirteen can patch him up, he's going to have to go back, back to the Capitol, if he's ever going to get better. As it turns out, Peeta has to go too, has to try and pull his fractured brain back together. They help each other keep it together. Finnick is there to help when Peeta can't remember what's real and what's fake, and Peeta helps Finnick cope with limb loss (@loungemermaid)

MegaAuLover :: ao3, ffnet, tumblr

Popular Fic: Katniss Everdeen Is Not A Stalker: Canon AU- Katniss as a little problem, she can't stop looking through Peeta's window, trying to find a way to pay her boy with the bread back but as time goes on she realizes she wants more. But there is a problem the District is flooded with Peacekeepers and everyone faces danger as the Capitol tightens its reigns on the district. Can love bloom in the middle of adversity? Or will it shrivel in the face of surmounting danger? (@mega-aulover)

melissaeverdeen13 :: ao3, ff.net, tumblr

Popular Fic: give you my wild: a look into katniss and peeta's life as they grow back together after the war; their experiences with friendship, love, and parenthood. (@jenniferiawrence)

#authors #active authors masterlist #active authors #everlark fanfiction #thg fanfiction #everlark #masterlist #thg

[1jemmagirl22]

Okay everyone I’ve seen bithcing about the changes in the Six of Crows storyline in Shadow and Bone season 2 can you guys just shut up!

Look I get that your upset they’ll be cannon divergence but, why? Changes in Mattias and Wylan’s storylines mean more content we’ve never seen, changes in storylines for any of the Crows means more new content. Season 2 is literally televised fanfiction! Author certified televised fanfiction!

Why would anyone be upset at more Helnik content? At more Wesper content? At more Kanej? Hell why would any of you be upset at the idea of the crows having storylines with Alina? The crows could end up spending large amounts of plot time with Nikolai fucking Lantsov king of arrogance and chaos! 

Stop complaining that this well thought out, well written, and bloody fucking expensive adaptation with brilliant acting and author input isn’t an exact word for word recreation of the books, that kind of adaptation is a fever dream that no one has ever really wanted cause it doesn’t exist. The closest we can hope for is an enjoyable and good adaption and that’s Shadow and Bone with its creative reimaginings and delightful cinematography. 

Stop complaining about something amazing, complain about something that’s worth complaining over. 

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone season 2 #the crows #six of crows #kanej #helnik #wesper #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #nina zenik #mattias helvar #nikolai lantsov #jesper fahey #wylan van eck

[supergirlmayhem]

Mayhem: Identity Crisis

Season 2 cannon divergent. Lena presents her alien detection device to Kara, who lets the device clock her as an alien. To maintain the budding friendship she has with Kara, Lena has to confront her own anti-alien bias if she truly wants her business and name to be associated with a force for good.

Check out this new work posted to the 2024 collection by @gaymergal HERE and accompanying artwork by @crime-wives HERE.

#supergirl #supergirlmayhem2024 #sgmayhem2024 #sgmh2024 #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #supercorp fanart

[wisdomssdaughterr]

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR → A BLAZE OF HORROR

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 3.3k || masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

a/n: we're nearing the end of season 2! many exciting things to come :)

Sunshine landed on the ground with a light thud as she let go of the rope they had fastened to Billy Hargrove’s stolen car. She found herself inside one section of tunnel that she’d been staring at in drawing form on the walls of Will’s Byers home. The temperature dropped upon entrance, causing her to shiver and pull her jacket closer to her body. She adjusted her goggles over her eyes and made sure the bandana tied around her nose and mouth was secure as she waited for everyone else to drop down into the tunnel after her. 

The tunnels looked like they stretched for miles in a terrible darkness that was only made worse by the cut of flashlights. Particles floated in the air, resembling ash, and vines decorated the walls and floor. 

“Holy shit,” Steve muttered under his breath as he landed beside Sunshine and took in their new surroundings. 

Once all of the kids were there, Mike took the lead with a drawn map in his hands that he had made between the chaos at the Byers. “I’m pretty sure it’s this way,” he said. 

“You’re pretty sure or are you certain?” Dustin asked. 

Mike sighed and Sunshine was sure he rolled his eyes somewhere under his goggles. “I’m one hundred percent sure. Just follow me and you’ll know.” He began to walk down the tunnel but was promptly stopped by Steve snatching the map from the kid’s grasp. “Hey!” Mike tried to object. 

“I don’t think so.” Steve held the map high enough that Mike couldn’t grab it. “If any of you little shits down here, we’re getting blamed. From here on out, Sunshine and I are leading the way.” If they couldn’t stop the kids from doing something stupidly dangerous, then they had to lead the way into danger. 

The kids seemed almost unsure of Steve’s authority, and all looked to Sunshine like she was supposed to make the final call. Of course, she agreed with Steve, so she nodded her head, and they all didn’t put up an argument. Then they were off. 

As they ventured through the tunnel, drenched in the cold and strange air, Sunshine was struck with Deja vu. The tunnels felt awfully similar to when she and Nancy had crawled through a small gateway in the woods that placed them inside the Upside Down. 

The other, terrible world infected Hawkins like a disease. The tunnels stretched for miles, according to Will’s map, underneath the outskirts of the town and threatened to reach the residents unless El closed the Gate and stopped it from spreading. Sunshine couldn’t imagine the kind of hysteria that would come from the people of Hawkins if they were exposed to the Upside Down, the Demogorgons, and the Mind Flyer. 

And it was up to them to keep that from happening and keep the world from ending, which seemed wildly unfair. Yet, there was no time or space for them to refute their position, no matter how bad of shape they were in. 

All of the events of the night, good and terrible, weighed heavily upon all of them, leaving them beaten, bruised, and tired. Sunshine wasn’t sure if they had another round of monster fighting in them, but she wasn’t sure they’d get a choice in the matter. 

As they ventured deeper into the tunnels, they came upon odd plants that grew beside the vines. The plants expanded and retracted as if they were breathing. They stopped to observe the strange scenery for only a moment before they started walking again, but they didn’t get far before a shrill scream came from the back of the group, startling everyone. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Dustin yelled as he hastily pulled down his bandana and began coughing violently. 

Sunshine had whipped around at the scream and hurried to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder with panic rising quickly in her chest. “What happened?” 

“It’s in my mouth! Some got in my mouth! Shit!” Dustin yelled and coughed while Sunshine shared a worried look with Steve. Neither one of them knew what to do; there wasn’t exactly common knowledge on what to do when someone breathed in otherworldly plant fumes. Luckily, Dustin’s panic faded with his coughs, and settled with a deep breath from the kid before he said, “I think I’m okay. It’s fine.” 

Sunshine let out a sigh of relief and pulled Dustin’s bandana back up over his nose and mouth. “Let’s keep going, yeah?” she said. Dustin nodded and the rest of the kids all started following Steve’s lead once more. 

After she made her way back to the front of the pack, Sunshine peered over at the map Steve held and tried to figure out how close they were to the hub.

“If we make it out of here, remind me to never volunteer to babysit again,” Steve said. 

“When we make out of here,” she corrected. Not making it out wasn’t a choice they had. Sunshine promised to protect all of them, and she didn’t plan on breaking that promise. “I will. But I don’t know how well that’ll go over.” She glanced behind them at the group filing behind them with brave faces and good hearts. “I think they’re really warming up to you.” 

Steve shook his head. “They said, like ten minutes ago, they wanted to leave me behind at the house.”

“Well, yeah, but to be fair, they were right about you freaking out in the car.” Steve scoffed. “And I wouldn’t have let that happen. We wouldn’t have left you behind.” 

Over the last year, Sunshine had grown a closeness with Steve that she didn’t want to let go of. She had learned what it was like to have a best friend, to have someone who was patient and kind to her without any obligation to do so. Sunshine wanted to hang onto Steve; she liked having him around, whether it was to study at the library or fight monsters. 

“I can’t believe you punch Hargrove,” Steve said after a beat of silence. “I bet that threw him off. Most girls in town are trying to get with him, not break his jaw.” 

It was her turn to scoff, playfully. “I didn’t break his jaw. I think his jaw hurt my hand more than my punch hurt him.” She flexed her fingers and winced. The way Billy looked at Max and Lucas still unsettled her; the idea that anyone, even an angry teenage boy, would think for even a second of hurting a kid half their size caused rage to flood Sunshine’s veins. Maybe it was her memories of the Lab and how far the violence inside there went, but she refused to let anyone lay a hand on any member of the party. And even though Sunshine had just met Max that week, she still felt a sense of protectiveness over her, considering how she was roped into the mess of their lives. 

“I also take babysitting very seriously,” Sunshine added, half-joking. 

“I’ve noticed.” 

They continued to trudge through the tunnels until they reached a large opening that multiple tunnels spilled into. It was a large space right where Mike had said. 

“Alright, Wheeler,” Steve said. “I think we found your hub.” 

Mike stepped forward holding a canister of gasoline. “Let’s drench it.” And that they did. 

The group worked to soak every inch of the room with gasoline. They worked quickly and tossed the empty canisters aside before they regrouped at the entrance of the tunnel they had come from. They had a straight shot back to the entrance and a quick trip back to the Byers. Sunshine hoped they beat everyone back and then she nor Steve would have to explain why they let the kids out of the house when that was the last thing they were supposed to do. 

Steve pulled a lighter from his coat pocket and everyone braced themselves. He breathed deeply and muttered, “I’m in such deep shit,” before he dropped the lighter and caught the hub on fire. 

The flames drank the gasoline hungrily, spreading alarmingly fast. Bright orange exploded before their eyes and the heat was felt through their layers of clothing. The vines that covered the ground and walls hissed loudly in pain like they were alive. 

“Go! Go! Go!” Steve yelled and prompted the kids to start running. 

A final wave of adrenaline gave them one last push to run as fast as their legs could carry them. Steve led the way, remembering each twist and turn even in the eerie darkness, and Sunshine brought up the rear to ensure no kid got left behind. That was a good thing, too, because as they ran, one of the vines snaked up from where it was curled against the ground and latched onto Mike’s leg as he tried to run by. 

He was pulled to the ground and Sunshine stumbled to a stop with him. Mike kicked his leg in an attempt to shake the vine, but it encircled his ankle, locking him in place.

Sunshine kneeled beside him and dug her fingernails into the vine, trying to yank it off of Mike, but it refused to let him go. 

“Sunshine! Get it off! Get it off!” Mike cried. 

She knew her powers were shot, but she thought she’d get lucky again like she had with Billy. Sunshine cupped her hands together, but before she could even think about igniting them, another vine shot out of the wall and curled around her wrist. 

An angry scream tore through her throat as she tried to escape and help Mike. 

The rest of the group had heard their yells and stopped running. 

“Oh, shit!” Lucas gasped, looking between Mike’s trapped leg and Sunshine’s bound wrists. 

“Steve, do something!” Dustin demanded, full of panic. 

Steve quickly pulled his bat from his backpack and hurried over to the two. He first brought the bat down against the ground, where Mike’s vine squirmed. The nails that had been hammered into the bat struck the vine and cut through its thick skin, causing the plant to ooze black goo. Mike pulled the dead half of the vine from around his ankle and scrambled toward Sunshine. He grabbed a hold of the vine that squeezed Sunshine’s wrists and pulled it taught between her and the wall. 

“Hit it! Hurry!” Mike yelled at Steve. Steve swung his bat again and cut the vine. 

Mike pulled Sunshine to her feet with a heavy breath. 

“Are you okay?” she asked him. 

With a nod, Mike brushed the sweaty pieces of hair back from his forehead. “Y-Yeah. I’m fine. But we’ve gotta go.” 

Sunshine spun around to resume their journey through the tunnels, but instead of an empty path, they were met with the faceless gaze of a Demo-dog. Instinctively, she grabbed a hold of the kids nearest to her, Mike and Luke, and shoved them behind her. She moved to grab the rest of the kids, but Dustin stepped forward toward the monster before she could. 

“Dart,” Dustin said, his voice steady. 

Sunshine’s heart dropped violently. “Dustin-” she hissed, but he held up his hand to quiet her as Dart growled. 

“Stop,” Dustin whispered to the group. “Just trust me.” 

Sunshine trusted Dustin: the kid was one of the smartest she knew, but he and all of the kids acted like they were invincible. 

Stepping forward slowly, Dustin kept all of his focus on Dart. Sunshine held her breath and tried to think of the quickest way to get him and everyone else away if the monster decided to attack. There wasn’t anywhere for them to run away unless it was back toward the hub that was burning. The only escape was past the Demo-dog. 

“Hey, it’s me. It’s your friend, Dustin. Do you remember me? Will you let us pass?” Dart growled once more in response, but it didn’t seem to deter Dustin. He spoke again, calm and slow, like he was talking to his mom’s dead cat, Mews, and not a creature that wanted to rip them from limb to limb. “I’m sorry about the storm cellar, that was a pretty douchey thing to do.” He reached into the side pocket of his backpack and pulled out a candy bar. “You hungry? I’ve got your favorite, see? Nought.” He tossed the candy to the ground in front of Dart. The monster sniffed it for a moment, and Sunshine feared it would ignore the candy and take to eating them instead. 

However, Dart turned his attention away from Dustin and began eating the candy bar similar to how a dog snacked on a bone. Dustin tossed a look over his shoulder at the group and waved them along. “Let’s go.” 

As carefully and quietly as they could, the group slid past Dart and resumed their sprint toward the exit. The crackle of the fire faded, and the tunnel was only filled with their labored breaths and heavy steps. 

They managed to make it fairly far before another problem was tossed their way. What was supposed to be a quick and sneaky task had taken several turns for the worse. 

A steady rumble began to shake the ground and a symphony of howls and growls sucked the nasty air from Sunshine’s lungs. 

“They’re coming!” Mike rushed out. “Run!” 

Sunshine spared a quick look over her shoulder and saw the monsters’ shadows growing on the wall behind them. She quickened her pace with her heart threatening to beat right out of her chest. 

Several feet ahead, the rope came into view, swinging down from the surface as their saving grace. 

Steve, having led everyone, was the first to reach the rope and he immediately started ushering the kids up it and to the safety above. Max was the first one up and the second she was out she reached her hand down into the hole and helped the others up. 

Together, Steve and Sunshine made quick work of hoisting the kids up, one after another as the monster enclosed around them. Sunshine could hear them coming toward at a rapid pace. As the seconds ticked by, and the Demo-dogs grew closer, she worried they wouldn’t get all of the kids up in time. 

Lucas followed Max, and then Mike, Dustin, and Luke all managed to scramble out with the help of one another. All who were left were Steve and Sunshine, but the monsters turned the corner and were only a couple of feet from them. 

“Guys! Come on!” Dustin screamed and all of the kids reached out their hands, but there was no time. It was mere seconds until the monsters reached them, not allowing enough time for even one of them to climb, let alone both of them. 

Sunshine didn’t even have time to think about dying. All she could think about was the way her sides ached from running and how the kids’ voices all bled together from above. She stared at the incoming creatures, too drained and stunned to fight. All she did was close her eyes and hold her breath. An arm hooked around her waist, and she was pulled into a tight embrace. 

For an agonizing moment, she and Steve braced for impact. They were either going to be eaten or trampled to death, perhaps both.

But nothing happened. 

The howls came and left with a strong gush of air that nearly knocked Sunshine off her feet if it hadn’t been for Steve. It was like the monster hadn’t even seen them. They slipped away down the tunnel before their very eyes. 

Sunshine peeled her eyes open and tried to catch her breath. She had Steve’s coat clutched tight in her shaky hands and he kept his one arm around her waist, while his other held onto the rope. For a moment, they stared at each other, unsure of what the hell just happened.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed out with a bewildered look overcoming his features. He suddenly grabbed the sides of Sunshine’s face, like he was checking to make sure she was real and that they both were still standing. “We’re not dead. We’re not dead!” 

A startled laugh fell from Sunshine’s lips. They should be dead. Why didn’t the monsters attack them? Why didn’t they even seem to notice them? 

The kids all called to them, frantically overlapping with each other so that Sunshine couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

Steve stepped back and looked up at the series of faces that peered down at them. “We’re okay,” he told them, but that didn’t seem to ease the worry that had overtaken each of their faces. 

“Something’s wrong!” Max cried, looking at something over her shoulder. “Hurry!” 

Steve hoisted Sunshine up first. She climbed the rope until the kids were within reach, and they helped her the rest of the way up. She fell into the dirt with a deep breath of fresh air. 

They only had a second to collect themselves before the kids pulled their attention toward Luke, who sat still on the ground a couple of feet from the tunnel entrance. 

“Something’s wrong with him,” Lucas said, nervously glancing between the older teens and Luke. 

Luke’s eyes were rolled into the back of his head and a single line of blood dripped from his nose. Sunshine cursed under her breath as she kneeled in front of it. As she did so, the headlights of Billy’s car suddenly burned brightly, nearly blinding all of them. The lights grew brighter and brighter until they switched off, leaving them in the darkness of night in the middle of an empty field. 

“El,” said Mike. “She did it.” 

Sunshine didn’t know what it was exactly, but she knew he was right. There was something, a feeling that buzzed through the air that quelled the doom that had been thick for weeks. El had closed the Gate. It was over. That allowed her attention to be fully on Luke. 

“Luke? Luke, can you hear me?” She didn’t touch him, but her hands hovered close to the young boy. Everyone else crowded around the two of them on the ground. “Who helped him up?” 

Max slowly raised her hand, her face blanched. “I did. D-Did I do something wrong? I didn’t-” 

“No, you didn’t,” Sunshine said. “When Luke touches someone, skin to skin, he gets a vision. That’s how his abilities work.” That’s why he often curled into himself and kept his hands tucked away in his pockets, but in the chaos of the incoming Demo-dogs, Luke had no choice but to accept the help of Max to get to safety. 

“Whoa, wait,” Dustin gasped. “You mean, he’s seeing the future right now?” 

Sunshine sighed, “Yes.” 

Another couple of quiet moments passed as they waited out Luke’s vision. He returned with a loud gasp and his eyes blinked back into focus. His hand pressed against his chest, and he looked around wildly until Sunshine gently placed a hand on his coat-clad shoulder. 

“Hey, Luke. You’re okay,” she soothed. Luke visibility relaxed, but not before his gaze fell onto Max. What Sunshine didn’t mention was that the future he saw was specific to the person he had touched. But he said nothing, and she was sure that meant he needed time to digest the flashes of the future he saw before he could make sense of them. 

No one was sure of what to do after that. The cold air nipped at their noses and their heavy breaths were visible in the dim moonlight. Sunshine felt her adrenaline wear off, and she had to resist the urge to fall back into the dirt and close her eyes for the night. 

“We should get back to Will’s before everyone else,” Mike said after a moment. Everyone silently agreed and started toward the car.

“Um, is Max driving again?” Lucas asked. 

“No!” Both Sunshine and Steve answered simultaneously. Max scoffed, but her attitude was watered down by the night, and she tiredly shrugged them off before tossing the keys she had kept safe in her pocket to Steve. 

Everyone fell into their seats, and they started back to the Byers, all ready for the night to conclude.

Tag List. @sattlersquarry , @leptitlu , @echoing-oursong

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #max mayfield #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #stranger things 2 #project sunshine

[gay-dorito-dust]

Deadweight part 4 if you are still interested?

Idk why you guys like this but I’m willing to indulge you as long as you guys want it.

⚠️cannon divergence where reader takes Vax’s place as the Matron of Raven’s ward also spoilers for season 2⚠️

Vax didn’t think much whether or not the Matron took his exclamation into consideration because as soon as she left, the most un peculiar thing happened.

Your eyes were revitalised with life and breath came back to your lungs violently that you hand forced yourself to sit up and cough at the sensation of being able to breath, as though it were your first time living.

However that wasn’t what caught the rouge half elf’s eye. It was the fact that adorning your body was the vestige of the Matron of Ravens. His plea did fall on deaf ears and as a result you were taken as her ward, much like Purvon before you and whomever before him. The thoughts that rush to his head weren’t all pleasant.

What did this mean for you?

What does the matron want from you?

Why did she choose you to be her ward?

What burden would you be forced to carry and what end would await you at the end of your tenor. Would you be entombed here in her underwater temple? Forever sought out by everyone but forever found by none?

“What the fuck happened to me?” You asked, touching your head.

“You fucking died.” Grog said

“Gorg!” Pike scolded as she smacked him on the arm.

“What?” He exclaimed.

“Dead huh?” You said, a little too calm for everyone.

“Darling, are you okay?” Vex said as she rested her hand on your shoulder but you abruptly shrugged it off before standing. “Yeah I’m fine, quit your worrying. We’ve got what we came here for; So it stands to reason that our business here is finished.” You stated, subconsciously running a hand over the armour as you felt the power thrum beneath your skin.

“Is it just me or have they changed?” Pike said as herself, zhara, Kash, Keyleth, Scanlan, Vex, Vax, Gorg and Percy watched as you walked away from them all with a change of air about you that didn’t set right with any of them.

“They did just come back alive, so of course they’re going to change completely.” Kash tried to reason with the group but even within the short period of time that he’s spent with you and Vox Machina.

This change just about gave him whiplash. So even he wasn’t so certain about his words, even more so after you killed the monster Zhara brought forth as a test, despite standing completely slack jawed and glowy eyed the entire time.

You hung even further back from everyone now, looking lost and in a daze as though trapped in your own head. So whenever Vax, Vex or Percy try to hang back with you, you slowed even further down or pretend to engage in conversation with them in hopes that they would leave you alone.

However you underestimated how much your death effected them to the point that you always had at least one or two members of the party by your side almost all of the time. You understand their worry but this was excessive and unnecessary. It certainly didn’t help that you were getting visions of the past and visions of moments of death thanks to the Matron you now served.

You saw the death of a man who once lived in a hut that was now run down by weather and the wear and tear it sustained.

You even saw the death taking place within Pyrah, where the fire Ashari lived.

You lost sleep over the visions and everyone could see it visibly upon your face that this burden was already proven too much for you to bear. However it was already too late to change the hand fate has dealt you and suffer in silence.

Vax, on the other hand, wasn’t about to let you suffer through this alone.

He out of everyone was the most protective over you now. So whilst everyone was asleep, he heard your grunt and move about with unease. He set aside his knife that he was sharpening and moved to your side so that when you awoke with a start, he was already there to draw you into his arms.

“You’re alright, you’re alright, we’re right here. You’ve got nothing to worry we’ll-“

“Stop acting like you care all of a sudden.” You snapped, shoving him away as you stood up. “You never gave a rats arse about me before so why is it that after I’ve gone through literal death do I suddenly get cradled and coddled like a child? Is that what I had to do to get your attention this entire time? To die?” You scoffed.

“What’re you on about?” Vax asked, clearly confused.

“It doesn’t even matter if you can’t see the problem that lies in front of you.” You spat back as you let the cave you’ve took refuge in for the night and stood a good distance away to look at your hand before looking up over the tree tops, where staring back at you was a raven.

#tlovm x reader #tlovm imagine #tlovm s2 #tlovm imagines #tlovm fic #tlovm spoilers #tlovm x you #vox machina x you #vox machina imagine #vox machina imagines #vox machina x reader #the legend of vox machina x you #the legend of vox machina imagines #the legend of vox machina imagine #the legend of vox machina x reader #vex’ahlia imagine #vex’ahlia imagines #vex’ahlia x reader #percy de rolo x reader #Percy de rolo imagine #Percy de rolo imagines #vax’ildan imagine #vax’ildan x reader #vax’ildan imagines #keyleth imagine #keyleth x reader #keyleth imagines #pike imagines #pike x reader #scanlan x reader

[hotluncheddie]

hello! this is my blog navigation!!

26 | she/they | queer | ✧˖°⋆

I like writing steddie and sharing it on here. most of it is pretty short, but sweet. sometimes nsfw so pls pls minors dni.

Taglist is open!　

☆ Main Tags/Links ☆

★ Ao3 ★ all my posts go under hotlunch ★ my fic ★ drabbles ★ ideas ★

★ ask (i love asks) ★ personal if ur nosy :) ★ kofi ★ have also been talking about Gator Tillman recently so come join in on that if u like ★

☆ Masterlist ☆

General

Hug : Ao3 | wc: 3.4k | rated: T | cw: meltdown, burnout | tags: autistic eddie munson, hurt/comfort, pre relationship, pining, hugging

Memories of somethin' even smoking weed does not replace : Ao3 | part 2 | cw: alcohol | rated: M | tags: pre s4 au, steve harrington centric, stobin soulmates, raised catholic steve harrington | (written for Lex’s Spicy Six Winter Challenge!)

Tiny green shorts : Ao3 | wc: 2.2k | rated: E | tags: smut, established relationship, mention of free use

🍓, 🍓🍓 : Ao3 | wc: 1.9k | rated: G | tags: getting together, fluff, idiots in love | (written for Lex’s Spicy Six Summer Challenge!)

Extra credit : Ao3 | wc: 1.6k | rated: M | tags: pre s4, fluff, pre relationship | (written for Lex’s Spicy Six Spring Challenge!)

Seasons change, but people don't : Ao3 | wc: 6.2k | rated: M | tags: time skips, slow burn, eddie munson is bad a feelings, first kiss |(written for Lex’s Spicy Six Winter Challenge!)

Series

Microfics (AKA my chubby steve saga) : Ao3

Autistic Steve Harrignton : Ao3 | Thoughts | Hurt/Comfort | Stimming | (ongoing)

Sub Eddie Week 2024 Masterlist : Ao3 | (complete)

Stop being a goblin and let me kiss you : rated: M | tags: switching POV, getting together, idiots in love, flirting | part 1 , part 2 , part 3 , part 4 , part 5 , part 6 , part 7 | (unfinished)

I also like writing steddie chubby or in bigger bodies. sometimes fat and/or getting fatter (steddie wg), so please read the tags. if you’re not into that, it’s okay there’s things above for you. if you are into that, please, come in <3

Chubby Steve Harrington

Love in a safety-pin : Ao3 | wc: 3.9k | rated: M | tags: weight gain, outgrown clothes, mutual pining, getting together, domestic fluff

Wherever you go, that’s where I am : Ao3 | wc: 3.5k | rated: M | tags: 5+1, established relationship, body worship, feral pining goblin eddie munson, chubby steve harrington, fluff

Denny’s : Ao3 | rated G | tags: tooth rotting fluff, pining, chubby steve, line cook eddie, getting together | idea , follow up , fin | (complete)

Ex jock : Ao3 | wc: 2k | rated: E | tags: established relationship, fat steve, sub eddie, outgrown clothes

Office AU : initial idea - First date : Ao3 | wc: 3.6k | rated: E | tags: getting together, fluff, outgrown clothes, sweet gooey smut

Milk | co written with @scoops-aboy86 | rated: M | tags: idiot4idiot, weight gain, stobin soulmates but robin is tired

Chubby Eddie Munson

Jeans : Ao3 | wc: 1.5k | rated: M | tags: pre & established relationship, weight gain, outgrown clothes, some sub steve

Santa baby : wc: 390 | rated: T | tags: chubby eddie, established relationship, fluff, a silly thing for Christmas

Witness Protection WG AU | rated: M | tags: weight gain, cannon divergence, stuffing

Breakfast : Ao3 | wc: 3.6k | rated: E | tags: getting together, belly kink, stuffing, feedee eddie munson, feeder steve harrington, semi public sex (in eddies van)

#hotlunch #my fic #drabbles #ideas #ask #personal #stop being a goblin and let me kiss you #autistic steve harrington #steddie wg #chubby eddie munson #chubby steve harrington #gator tillman #🦂 anon #🫚 anon #🦇 anon #🐶 anon

[magnoliabutters]

• STORIES OF EDDIE MUNSON •

SEASON TWO

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her, 18+) reader

media: stranger things

series summary: emptiness, hopelessness, that's all she has to go on now - but that won't stop her from finding him.

• season two of the stories of eddie munson series •

inspired: to write more to this series again due to @steveshairychest post; frankly their latest posts have left me really pondering some unspoken stranger things concepts, def recommend a follow

warnings: 18+ content, minors dni, adult language; canon divergence, series spoilers ahead, slow burn city, mention of dwugs, internal dialogue/processing, occasional use of y/n, sexual tension, complex feelings, switching povs; rough, kinky, and dirty vamp sexy time, handjobs (m&reader receiving), oral (m&reader receiving), p in v (rough), smut or porn - you choose...

mental health warnings: grief, violence, cannon gore, blood, anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation (2-3 parts), drugs, briefly mentioned child abuse, hostage/killer dynamics, lack of coping skills, hints of s-h, toxic pairing, (sexual) regret, near death situations, trauma bonding and responses, etc.

parts.

• part one • where is he? •

• part two • the devil of hellfire •

• part three • as you wish •

• part four • return of the boy •

• part five • i’ll make it quick •

• part six • as the world burns •

• part seven • feeling everything •

• part eight • stay a while •

• part nine • the spider queen •

• finale • coming soon

lets count together, one, two…

taglist: @babeyglo, @dotslabyrinth, @wheaty-melon, @mattymurdocksbitch, @sammararaven, @onlyfengs22, @ms1oftheboys, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @tayhar811, @hiscrimsonangel, @ali-r3n, @secretdryrose, @stranger-messenger, @ohmeg, @username7430, @seatnights, @bit-of-a-timelord, @nefelibata-dreams, @squigglebottom, @alanamarie, @xxhellfiregirlxx, @take-everything-you-can, & @bllshtbel (😘♥️)

comment on any series posts or reblog to be added to the taglist!

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

#series update #stories of eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fluff #st eddie #eddie stranger things #eddie st4 #eddie munson fanfic #eddie smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #kas eddie munson #kas eddie x you #vampire eddie munson #vamp eddie #kas eddie x reader #vamp eddie x reader #slow burn #Spotify

[spicyicetea]

Something feels off

Y/N information+general info

This is my new Jujutsu Kaisen yandere various x reader I've been working on. Before I give the first chapter I think its pretty important to give information regarding the Y/N character. Similar to the Y/N I've drawn for my LOZxReader, when I draw her I do already have outfits in mind as well as general body type and hair. I will not describe most of these features when writing about her so of course you can picture yourself in those scenarios. There are a few set things that will be consistent throughout the story.

First, this is a fem Y/N. I will write the reader with she/her pronouns and if these don't apply to you and might make you uncomfortable to read, then I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to writing x reader fanfictions and am most comfortable with she/her pronouns and I don't tend to mess up and write the wrong ones. I do still take oneshot requests/asks, and because they're shorter, I find easier to write for GN readers and Masc readers in these situations if requested.

Second, the reader is a short, curvy woman simply because I enjoy writing for short, curvy women. No further reason.

Now some basic information about the fanfiction itself. As mentioned before, it is a Yandere story. The 1st year characters are aged up to 18, and older characters stay the same age. It will have vulgar language, violence and nsfw scenes. I have only watched the season 1 of the anime so far, yes I know season 2 isn't out yet but i haven't watched the movie either. I do know plenty about the characters from the manga so they will be included, but the story will be very cannon divergent given I want to introduce certain characters earlier. Also, I cant bring myself to kill them all off... I cried for Junpei.

#x reader #yandere x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[moralpuppet]

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦; 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘦?

𝘖𝘩, 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘬𝘪𝘥, 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬.

- - - - - -

18+  .Indie    .    Mutuals    Only.    OREL PUPPINGTON of MORAL OREL  by  S𝔞v𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔯    .    Established    19th    of    October    2022

Highly    Selective    &    can    be    gorey      .    Crossover    &    OC    friendly

cannon divergent Includes    all    cannon    verses    &    non-cannon    verses   ; Moral Orel ( predominantly seasons 2 & 3 ) & Beforel Orel   

( commandments. 

#📖in the study . ooc #self promo #moral orel rp #orel puppington rp #indie rp #adult swim rp #adult cartoon rp #puppet rp

[foxgirl95]

Back Into the Fray

A Bounty hunter Mandalorian, a young jedi, a talkative droid, and a former X-wing fighter pilot turned traveling mechanic. He’s willing to travel with them if it means someone out there has his back. They both have someone they would be devastated to lose. Can they all work together as a team and find the little green man's people? Or will they butt heads every step of the way? At least the baby and Droid can get along.

First couple chapters take place during season 1 of The Mandalorian, the rest will be in season 2.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (Anai)

Tags: Slow burn, Idiots in love, Found Family, Eventual Relationship, Fluff, Physical & Emotional hurt comfort, Creative liberties on Star Wars content both cannon and Expanded Universe, Light cannon divergence.

AO3 link

Chapter 1: The Mechanic

Chapter Description: The Mandalorian meets the fabled mechanic. Little does he know that this brief meeting will lead to.

Next Chapter >>

Dank Farrik…

That was the cursing thought of one beskar-clad Mandalorian as the ramp of the hull opened to the hanger three-five on the dust ball planet of Tatooine. The heat of the two suns encompassing his body, if he wasn’t already used to the somewhat similar heat on Nevaro he’d feel like he was melting. Today though seemed to be another, in a string of many, he had just escaped a dogfight and his nerves were through the roof.

As he stepped out of the ship, he heard the unmistakable sound of pit droids rushing toward him. He pulled out his blaster, giving them a warning shot as the shrill voice of a woman called out “Hey! Hey! You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” A wild-haired woman with her eyebrows burnt off came around the corner with her hands on her hips.

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Mando replied sternly.

She leaned forward “Yeah? You think that’s a good idea, do ya?” Snapping back as she walked towards the ship exclaiming about every little bit that she saw wrong with his ship. Mando rolled his eyes under his helmet as she went on, ‘Mechanics…’ As much as he appreciated their work, he also knew a lot of them tended to over exaggerate and scam pilots out of credits.

“How did you even land?” She barked as she made her way around pointing out things, he already knew were wrong “That’s gonna set you back.”

“I have 500 imperial credits.” He replied curtly holding out the last bit of money he had.

She raised a nonexistent eyebrow at him then snatched the credits from his hand “That’s all you got? Well, what do you guys think?” She turned to her pit droids that babbled on in a language Mando had no interest in learning as the woman turned back to him “That’ll at least cover the hangar.”

“I’ll get you your money.” He was starting to get annoyed.

She scoffed, leaning towards him “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

Suddenly Mando noticed movement at the edge of his visor and quickly pulled his blaster firing another warning shot at one of the pillars “Show yourself!” He ignored the continued barking of exclamations from the woman next to him as he stared into the dark shade of the hangar.

“Woah, Woah, Woah! Calm down Mister Mandalorian, we're all friendlies here!” Slowly but surely a figure appeared and stepped out into the light with its arms up. It was another woman, this one was far younger than her counterpart, her sandalwood skin glowing like amber stones under the intense light of the two suns, and her clothes were tattered and grease-covered just like any other mechanic. What caught Mando’s attention though was her eyes, they were the greenest eyes he had ever seen on anyone that reminded him of his little companion safely tucked away in his bunk that very moment. “Hey man.” He heard her voice call, snapping him out of his thoughts. She stood there with an awkward smile on her freshly tinted lips “My arms are getting tired here. Can you put that thing away?”

Mando huffed with amusement and put his blaster away. The older woman jabbed him in the arm with a boney finger “Hey watch it bucket head, I don’t take kindly to those who threaten my friends.”

“Sorry.” He said quietly to which the woman in question giggled lightly. How is me almost killing you funny?  He asked himself.

“It’s all good Mando.” She replied pulling a rag out of her pocket as she wiped the grease from her calloused hands “I should’ve known better than to try to sneak around you while you’re doing business.”

The older woman leaned out from behind Mando calling out to her companion “Hey Anai, this guy’s looking for work. Why don’t you take him down to the cantina to ask around.”

“I don’t need an escort” He interrupted.

“Have you ever been to Mos Eisley?” She asked.

“No.”

“Then it can’t hurt to have someone show you around, the best part is it’s free.” She playfully shoved the younger woman, Anai, towards the door “Now go on get out of here I’ve got work to do.”

Anai laughed lightly once again “Alright, alright.” She turned to Mando with a smile, “C’mon, it’s not that far.”

The Mandalorian sighed, shaking his head, “Fine.” He then turned back to the other woman pointing a finger at her “Just remember…”

“Yeah yeah!” She shouted back “No droids. I heard you. Don’t gotta say it twice.” She turned to get to work cursing at his demands as the other two headed to the door. On the way, Anai grabbed an old leather jacket with off one of the machines pulling it onto her shoulders. Once outside the safety of the hangar she stretched her arms over her head and let out a groan “Man it feels good to take a break…”

Mando walked up beside her and looked around the street “You don’t have to help me.” He stated, “I’m sure I can find it.”

“Oh! It’s no trouble!” She replied as her arms fell back to her sides. “Besides, I've been moping around that hangar for days now. Peli’s getting sick of me.” Anai smiled as she turned in the direction they needed to go. “Don’t take anything she says to heart, she can be a good friend once you get to know her.” Something in her voice told him she wasn’t lying.

“Noted.” He answered shortly as he followed after her. They walked in somewhat comfortable silence; he was still wary of the woman in front of him. There was no one he could trust, for all he knew she could be a guild member looking for the kid. As they came closer to the center of town Mando spotted something…ominous. There on several pikes were the discarded helmets of storm troopers, he stopped to stare at the display as a light wind blew by causing the blood-colored scraps of fabric tied to each of them to sway. After a moment he felt the presence of the young woman beside him “Kinda eerie, isn’t it?” She commented as she fiddled with something hanging from her neck. “Even though I wanted these guys dead more than anything, the first time I saw this it spooked me.”

He turned his head toward her slightly, now realizing what she had been playing with, a small silver medallion with the emblem of the former rebellion forces engraved upon it Dogtag… His inner voice spoke, “You were a soldier?" Anai turned to him, still rubbing her fingers over the small piece of metal “A pilot.” She corrected him. That surprised Mando, but it also explained her devil-may-care attitude. “Any good?” He asked, receiving a raised eyebrow and a cocky grin “I mean I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

Mando huffed out a chuckle “Guess so.” This woman had survived the war, probably a hero to her people, yet like the shock trooper Cara Dune she was out here assumably hiding from whatever duties she didn’t wish to perform.

Anai hummed playfully watching him as she nodded her head to one side “C’mon, the cantina’s this way.”

They reached their destination shortly afterward and now Mando was a little glad he had someone to show him the way. Out here most of the buildings looked the same and it was probably easy to accidentally walk into one while meaning to be in another. As they stepped down into the door Anai quickly turned around and put her hands out to stop him. He cocked his head to the side curiously looking for an explanation when the mechanic chuckled awkwardly “Uh, just to warn you this place is run by droids nowadays. So please don’t go shooting it up, they’re just doing their jobs.”

Oh. Mando thought, obviously she had seen what had occurred earlier and realized he was very uncomfortable with droids “Thanks, I’ll try not to.”

She smiled, seeming relieved, then turned to enter the cantina, the old doors sliding open to reveal the spacious area inside. It being midday it was pretty empty save for a few who were happily eating and talking amongst themselves. Anai made a b-line for the bar ordering a glass of Juma Juice from the droid wiping down the bar. Mando came up behind her and leaned against the flat surface “Hey, droid, I'm a hunter. I'm looking for some work.”

The tall droid looked towards the man as it poured Anai’s drink “Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine.” Answered the mechanical voice.

“I'm not looking for Guild work.” His patience was being put to the test today.

“I am afraid that does not improve your situation…” The droid finished the drink, setting it in front of the pink-haired woman “At least by my calculation.”

“Think again, tin can!” A sudden voice called out catching the attention of everyone in the cantina. It was a kid, a boy barely out of his teens by the looks of him, sitting with his legs propped up in his booth. “If you're looking for work, have a seat, my friend.” Mando shared a look with Anai, who just spared the boy a glance before turning her full attention to her drink. He sighed before deciding to join the young man in his booth.

“Name's Toro, Toro Calican.” The boy stated. Mando wished there was anything else but looked like he was out of options here. He let Toro make his pitch though for a moment he let his gaze travel back to the woman at the bar. He knew she was listening in on the conversation, even if she was doing a good job of hiding it. “Fennec Shand, an assassin.” That was when Mando tuned back into Toro finally looking down at the puck between them. “She's been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown.”

Well, this kid’s a goner… Mando immediately thought, there were a lot of people who knew that name and what came with it. Even his escort seemed to stiffen from her station at the bar. “I know the name.” He answered coldly already knowing this was not the kind of job he needed right now.

His answer though didn’t seem to phase Toro “I followed this tracking fob here.” He reached into his jacket pulling out the fob that beeped rhythmically “Now the positional data suggests she's headed out beyond the Dune Sea.” He looked back up at Mando nonchalantly “Should be an easy job.”

If Mando wasn’t so annoyed already he would laugh, he sighed as he stood from the booth “Well, good luck with that.” He turned back to the bar ready to try his chances with someone else.

“Wait, wait, wait, hey!” The boy sat up with a slight amount of panic in his voice “I thought you needed work?”

Mando snapped back to Toro “How long with the guild?”

Now the kid's attitude shifted like he was offended “Long enough.”

“Clearly not, Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary,” Mando explained, this boy had no idea what he was getting himself into. “She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts.” His voice was as calm as he could make it to push how serious this was “If you go after her, you won’t make it past sunrise.” Toro was quiet now, he seemed to get it now, so Mando turned to leave, maybe someone else in this town had something better for him.

“This is my first job.” The boy called out quietly now standing and pleading with the beskar-clad man as he turned to face him “You can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the guild.” He scoffed knowing how crazy this was “I can’t do it alone.”

The Mandalorian took a moment to weigh his options knowing how large a bounty the mercenary had on her. They could both get what they wanted out of this, Mando sighed “Meet me at hangar three-five in half an hour.” Toro immediately looked happy and relieved “Bring two speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob.”

There was a silent moment between the two as the boy looked down at the fob in his hands before tossing it to the wall, shattering it into pieces as sparks fell to the ground. Mando heard the unmistakable snort of laughter coming from behind him. “Don’t worry.” The boy in front of him spoke as he tapped the top of his skull. “Got it all memorized.” The Mandalorian sighed, turning to the door, spying a familiar shade of pink already heading outside “Half an hour.” That was all he said as he left the cantina and as he expected his guide was waiting for him with a smirk on her lips which he ignored as he pushed past her. The long strides of his legs kept him in the lead as he avoided Anai, causing her to walk a little faster following after him, eventually taking two steps for every one of his. She walked alongside him in silence until she felt the need to speak “So…” Mando steeled himself for whatever was going to come out of her mouth “I may not be a bounty hunter but, I don’t need to tell you to watch your back with that one, right?” He only sighed audibly before quickening his pace again as the sound of wheezing laughter followed him.

Once back at the hangar Mando immediately went back into his ship to gather supplies, not taking the time to see where the woman he had come in with went off to. He went to grab his bag before he noticed something was off, doing a double take he ran to his now open bunk finding it empty before racing down the ramp “HEY!” He called out as a scared pit droid walked by “Where is he?”

“Quiet!” He heard the familiar voice of Peli call out as she emerged from the office consoling the small green child in her arms “You woke it up. Do you have any idea how long it took me to get it to sleep?” She complained.

Mando was still riding off the waves of protectiveness and sternly replied “Give him to me.” His hand instinctively hovered near the blaster on his hip.

“Not so fast!” The older woman scoffed, holding the baby on her hip away from him “You can’t just leave a child all alone like that.” She looked down at the little bugger adjusting him to sit more comfortably. “You know, you have an awful lot to learn about raising a young one.” The child in her arms cooed softly as Mando looked between the two of them. His little companion was alright, and she had a point, Kriff… he shouldn’t have left him alone.

“What is going on out here?” They both looked over to see Anai joining them with two canteens hanging from her shoulder. “I was in there waiting for someone to start shooting with all the commotion.” She came closer, her eyes landing on the child staring confused for a moment before a gentle smile formed on her lips “Well hello there.” She affectionately wiggled a finger in the child’s direction “Who's this cutie?”

“Anyway…” Peli cleared her throat drawing their attention back to her “I started the repair on the fuel leak.” She stepped over to a machine pressing a few of the glowing buttons and tapping the side of it to get it to start up as Mando walked back up the ramp into his ship. “I had a couple of setbacks I want to talk to you about.” She continued fiddling with the old machine in front of her “You know, I didn’t use any droids as requested, so it took me a lot longer than expected.” Anai crossed her arms in front of her chest listening to Peli ramble on to Mando as he returned with his pack in hand.

“Thank you…” That stopped both women where they stood, hearing the softly spoken gratitude come from the man that had almost come close to killing them both. They both looked at one another as Mando headed back towards the entrance. “Oh, so I guess I was right.” She handed the small bundle to the unexpecting woman next to her hot on Mando’s trail. Anai held the child awkwardly in front of her as she too followed them “Wait…” her words were lost under Peli’s continued ranting.

The small group made their way outside where Toro was now waiting for his new partner “Hey, Mando, what do you think?” Gesturing to the two speeder bikes he had brought with him “Not too shabby, huh?” Peli and Anai stood back out of the conversation as the Mandalorian inspected their transportation, visibly skeptical of their functionality “What do you expect” Toro shrugged “This ain’t Corelia.” He turned to the two women and nodded “Ladies.” Which earned him an unimpressed look from the both of them and laughter from the baby. Anai walked over to Mando holding out the canteens to him “Here, so you don’t keel over from dehydration.” He stared down at her for a moment before taking them “That going to cost me too?” He asked skeptically to which the pink-haired woman huffed “I may be an ass Mando but I’m not heartless enough to send you off into the dunes without water.” He nodded, humming to show his gratitude before his gaze went to the child in her arms “Behave, I’ll be back” with that both men jumped on their speeders heading off into the endless sea of sand.

The child cooed as he waved goodbye to his caretaker making Anai smile “Awww…” she patted him lightly “It’s alright kiddo, we’ll have some fun until Mando gets back, okay?” The little one just looked up at her with a toothy grin happily swinging his little feet through the air.

Author's Note: This is my first time posting a fic on tumblr and I'll be posting all the chapters I have up on AO3 one at a time but feel free to take a look at what I have up already!

Mudhorn divider: @dreamland-gallery

Header & Footer: @samspenandsword

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #fan fic #original character #din djarin x oc #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original female character #star wars grogu #mandalorian and grogu #groguthechild #din and grogu #original droid character #fanfiction

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Teen and Up Rated Fics Masterlist (7)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 /

Created: September 13th, 2023

Last Checked:----

Squeaky Clean-SoThere (AO3)

Summary: Katniss experiences confusing new feelings when she helps her injured best friend. Modern AU inspired by the Everlark Drabble Challenge prompt from anais117: Katniss or Peeta recovering from surgery and the other helping them bathe.

Taste of the Toasting Cake-ally147writes (Tumblr)

Summary: In-Panem, no-games AU. Gadge toasting with a supportive Katniss in attendance who talks with Peeta about his previous misunderstandings about her relationship with Gale.

The Ashes-papofglencoe (AO3)

Summary: Peeta returns to Katniss in District 12 following his release from the Capitol. Canon-compliant. Pre-epilogue. Contains book dialogue.

The Awkward In-Between-LilyMaid (AO3)

Summary: Days after winning the 74th Hunger Games Katniss recognized her life was changing, not just her home. She was already mourning for that old life, when things were difficult, yet so simple. With a tightening in her chest and a fear she didn't understand, she wondered what would be left. Cannon Divergent AU- pre Catching Fire

The Ballad of Snares and Arrows-monabus (AO3)

Summary: "At the end of the day, it’s no different. Hunting is hunting, regardless of what’s at the receiving end of Katniss’ arrow. All that matters is surviving, staying alive. No matter the cost. If I were in the Hunger Games, I would stop at nothing to make it out alive." What was going on in Gale’s mind during the 74th Hunger Games? What exactly did the audience back in District Twelve see on their screens? A chance to explore the moments of the Games that Katniss never saw — all through Gale’s eyes.

The First Year-thinkinthankin (AO3)

Summary: The first year back in Twelve, an extension of the last chapter of Mockingjay. Picks up from "Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, shows up with Greasy Sae. She makes us breakfast and I feed all my bacon to Buttercup." A year of Katniss and Peeta making do, breaking down, and "growing back together." Working on the book. Baking. Hunting. "Real." Sitting around the fire with Haymitch. A birthday, a toasting. "Strange bits of happiness."

The Fruit Stand-Mollywog (AO3)

Summary: The stand was unremarkable in itself, except for the woman behind the antique register. She had been singing when they approached the tent but had stopped upon noticing them. It was a song Peeta couldn’t identify but left him feeling nostalgic for things he’d never experienced; at least not in this lifetime.

The Hunger Games from Peeta's POV-thismustbeagoodidea (AO3)

Summary: “I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning…won’t help in my case.” I want to go back to the charming lies. I planned for this, so why does it feel like something in my gut is rotting? “Why ever not?” Caesar asks. I drag in a deep breath. All that strategizing over how to win the most sympathy, and now I feel like I’ve lost control of my face. My mask is slipping, my cheeks growing hot. There are so many eyes on me, all of them hungry. I meet Haymitch’s gaze in the crowd. His hard expression isn’t exactly comforting, but at least he isn’t enjoying this the way everyone else is. I feel my mouth open as though pulled with a string. “Because…because…she came here with me.”

The List-orphan_account (AO3)

Summary: "The list that Dr. Aurelius and I had made together was burning a hole in my pocket. A list of triggers. A list of things I should avoid." Peeta comes home after the war.

The Lost Girl-Mollywog (AO3)

Summary: Finnick had received a letter from Lord Abernathy before the start of the season alerting him of his niece's debut. He had more accurately instructed him to “watch out” for her. Finnick still wasn’t sure whether it was meant as a request or a caution. At present it felt more like a warning. How Finnick and Katniss became unlikely allies.

#t #teen and up masterlist #everlark #masterlist #everlark fanfiction #thg #thg fanfiction

[sashred]

Hey

Do you have any chenford fics that never made it on here or AO3? If yes, please share, cause you write them so damn beautifully and I can't get enough. Or if not, can you write a "chenford +multichapter angst"(desperately pleading)

Bless you

Hi! There is actually one thing I've never posted, and probably won't finish. Think...early season 2 cannon divergence where Tim reevaluates his relationship with Lucy after she left "those" things he said while thinking he was going to die of the plague out of her report. OF COURSE it's angsty, but this is prob all that will come of it. Might as well set it free lol.

Enjoy!

“So just like that, you’re giving up on me?  I break one small, stupid regulation to try and cover for you.  To protect you, and that’s it?  I’m suddenly not worth your time?” Lucy exclaimed, desperate for some kind of reaction from him.  Something other than the stoic façade, that demeaning roll of his eyes.

“Leave it, Boot.  I am not having this conversation with you.”  Tim shook his head, grimacing as he downed the last of his beer.

“Like hell you aren’t,” she yelled, ignoring the startled looks nearby customers were giving her.  “You won’t even look at me when we’re at the station, in roll call, and meanwhile the entire department is avoiding me like the plague.  Like I did something wrong.  Like I’m a problem.”

“They’ll get over it.”

“Yeah, but I won’t.”  Lucy pulled out the stool across from Tim and sat down.  She was hot with rage, anger.  It’d had been building since two days ago when he announced that Lopez was her new TO, that he was taking Jackson on as his boot, no questions asked.  No room for argument.  She wasn’t even exactly sure he did it because of how she left it out of her report – that he’d told her he would rather end things himself than go out like that poor bastard who’d died such a horrible death right in front of him. 

She might have made plenty of mistakes in her short time as a rookie, but that moment when he cornered her about it, when she lost her temper…was by far the angriest she’d ever seen him, and it made no sense.

She’d covered for him before, she knew about his problems with Isabel.  They bickered plenty, he was hard on her, and expected more from her than anyone else ever had, and yet there had always been a weird comfort in it.  A sense that he actually cared about how she did, about her training.  That he took it seriously.  Took her seriously.

And now?  He was treating her like she’d failed.  Like she was untrainable, that she wasn’t worth his precious time, and it made her damn furious.

“We’re done here,” he bit out, refusing to even look at her, digging bills out of his money clip as he stood.  “Thanks for ruining my night.”

“Ruining…what?  This sad little pity party you’re having?  Because that’s what it looks like.  Nursing a beer by yourself in a bar on a Wednesday night, alone, actively running away from the first person that talks to you?  Please.”

“Except this isn’t talking, Boot.  This is you attacking me and working your way towards getting your ass fired.”

 “Is that what you want?  Me gone?  Would that make life easier for you?  End up with a boot that doesn’t call you out on your bullshit?  Because I am not going to apologize for trying to talk to you like an actual human.  Just like I’m not going to apologize for covering for you.  Because it was the right thing to do, whether you accept that or not.”

“Move out of my way, Boot,” he closed his eyes, “before you end up saying something you’ll regret.”

“No…see I don’t think I’m going to respond to that anymore.”  Lucy crossed her arms and planted her feet.  “You lost the right to call me ‘boot’ when you gave up on me.  You want to ask me something, try using my actual name, Tim.”

“Would you stop saying – ” he huffed once, his words trailing off.  “Move, Chen,” he said again, his words tight, jaw tense as his pulse jumped out of his neck.  She was finally getting to him, and she couldn’t deny the small pleasure it gave her.  Lucy hated that this was what they were now, that she’d lost whatever progress they’d made in those months they spent together.  All over something that made no freaking sense.  She wanted to shake him, demand he just tell her every last thing that was going through his head, hound him until it made sense, because whatever was happening there, in that bar as he looked half-ready to toss her out of his way, she wondered if there was a way back from it at all.

She wondered just why in the hell it mattered so much.

“You really won’t talk to me?  I don’t deserve at least that much?” she said, softer this time.  She felt herself deflating, the stubborn set to his eyes and tense way he held himself all too familiar.  All too final.  She was the rock and he was the hard place, and a damn adamantium wall at that.

“Goodnight, Chen,” he said stiffly, walking quickly around her and out the door, the bell clanging harshly as it slammed shut behind him.

The anger rose again.  The hurt.  Lucy could never claim that she was at her most logical when she was upset, angry like that, and she wasn’t about to start, either.

“Yeah, you’re so not getting the last word,” she mumbled to herself, launching after him.  The door closed just as forcefully behind her as she jogged towards where his truck was parked, tucked into the back corner of the lot, the flickering streetlamp above barely illuminating his figure against it as he fought with his keys.

“Hey!” she shouted at him, the satisfying clink of his keys dropping to the pavement ringing out.  “I don’t care who you think you are, but there is absolutely no reason for you to be acting like this and I am not done with – ”

Lucy froze.  A foot between them, probably less.  Uncomfortably less.  His eyes were blazing, but anger wasn’t the right word.  There was something else in them as he stared down at her, something that scared the ever-loving hell out of her.

He didn’t even bend to pick up his keys, not that he would have had the room with how close she was.  His lips parted like he was going to say something, and she would have sworn his eyes softened fractionally.  Her stomach flipped, her heart was racing, and everything suddenly seemed exponentially more dangerous than they had only moments before. 

“Chen, I need to go,” he said lowly.  Licked his lips.  His eyes were darting across her face, drinking her in it seemed, and something finally clicked into place.

“Oh,” she answered softly, willing herself to back away from him and failing.  “I…yeah.  Yeah I guess you do.”  She crouched down, scooping his keys up, watching as his eyes followed her.  Widened as she rose slowly.  “Here.”

She shivered when his hand enveloped hers, taking the keys, holding her in place, his warmth seeping into her skin.

“I didn’t give up on you, Chen.  I just…I can’t be the one to get you there.  You’re better off with Lopez, trust me.”

“You’re wrong,” she responded flatly.  “And before you argue…I know she’s good at what she does, and I would learn plenty from her, but it’s not the same and you know it.  She won’t make me better like you do.”

“I think you’re underestimating her…”

“I know you’re underestimating yourself,” she cut him off.  “And me.”

“Chen – ”

“Lucy,” she cut him off, sighing heavily.  “My name is Lucy.  I’m not your boot, not a cop, not your trainee.  Not here.”

“You’re not getting it, Chen, you have to be.  This…us doing favors for each other, covering for each other…it can’t be like this.”

“Like what?  Like we’re human?” she scoffed.  “We’re not robots, Tim.  I’m not a robot.”

“And I’m not your TO anymore,” he said, voice raised again.  “Simple as that.”

She stepped closer, her neck craned as she stared him down, noting the half step he took backwards.  She curled her fingers, the moment of panic that crossed his gaze urging her on.  He didn’t need to be afraid of her, she didn’t want him afraid of her, but there was absolutely no denying the silent, deadly current running between them.  They’d both drown if she didn’t act, like find something better for them to lose themselves in.

“I know a place a little ways from here.  A real hole in the wall, cheap drinks and crappy food, but cops don’t frequent it.  You want to talk it over there?”

His eyes widened, mouth opening and closing as her words settled between them.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he finally managed, but the deer in headlights was fading.  Rolling into something darker, something that made her stomach clench and pulse quicken.

“Fine.  Then…we don’t have to talk.”

He was nodding, that dark gaze now traveling across her in a way that made her skin tingle.

“What’s it called?”

“The Red Baron.”

“I’ve heard of it,” he said.  “Over on the other side of town.  It’s a complete dive.”

“Yeah.  Nothing we’re used to going to.”  Or anyone they knew.  “Too much for you?”

That did it.  His eyes sparked at the challenge, his head tilting ever so slightly as he considered her.

“It’s not really…my thing,” he shook his head, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than her. 

“Not mine either.  But I think I’m willing to make an exception.  If you’re up for it.”

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice low, tone softer than it had been.

“Yes,” she answered quickly, firmly.  “I’m sure.” 

“Fine.  I’ll meet you there.”

Lucy ordered a gin and tonic, and Tim ordered a whiskey, neat.  Sure, maybe hitting another bar wasn’t necessary, more a stall tactic than anything else, but she needed to be away from any prying eyes, and she needed that extra fortification to build her nerve.  Time to flick that switch in her brain.  She’d always thought Tim was attractive…hell it was a damn running joke in the precinct and everyone knew it.  And yeah…sometimes, late, late at night, and after a few glasses of wine, she could let her thoughts wander to less platonic situations between them, but this was the first time she felt such a visceral reaction to simply sitting beside him.

They didn’t talk.  Not when she came up and sat beside him at one of the spindly tables in the corner.  Not when she pressed the length of her leg against his and leaned into his solid warmth.  The waitress didn’t look twice at them as she took their drink orders and dropped a basket of stale pretzels in front of them, and there were enough people in there that she didn’t hover.  Lucy shivered when Tim brought his arm around her waist, his hand resting on her outer thigh, leaning his face into her hair, his lips at her ear as he breathed her in.

“So how are we playing this?”

“Playing what?” she asked, turning towards him.  His face…his damn lips were only inches away from hers.

“This,” he squeezed her thigh for effect, and she swallowed hard.

“Not playing, just…going with it.”

“What?  Like a one-time thing?  Scratching an itch?”

“You don’t have to make it sound so romantic,” she scoffed, and he squinted at her.

“So this bar is supposed to be romantic?  That’s what you’re looking for?  Because that’s not what – ”

He was talking entirely too much, the mood was slipping, and Lucy would be damned before she let her one chance to kiss him slip her by.  She didn’t have to move much for her lips to slide over his, stopping him mid-speech, relishing his surprised grunt – quickly followed by a soft sigh as she trapped his bottom lip between hers, his stubble rough under her palms.  They startled apart when the waitress clanked their glasses down, marginally louder than she needed to, and Lucy felt the blush rising in her cheeks as Tim cleared his throat.  He took a healthy swig of his drink before facing her again.

“So…it’s like that, then.”

Lucy paused with her glass poised at her lips.  “Like what?”

“You did say we don’t have to talk.”

“I’m…I’m sorry…” she said, placing her glass down and closing her eyes.  “Are you bothered by what I just did?”

“Not at all.  It was fine,” he shrugged, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.  “I guess I just figured, you being you, we needed to iron some things out first.”

She wasn’t sure what irked her more, the “you being you” comment or that fact that he’d just called her kiss “fine.”  Either way, the possibilities the night had promised only moments before now seemed to be fading, and quickly.

“Wow,” she said aloud, moving her leg away from his.  “I guess we’re even, now.”

“What does that mean?” he asked, his tone affronted.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  He wasn’t supposed to be like this, and disappointment settled in her stomach like a lead plate.  What were they doing?  What had she done?

“I think I should go,” she said, the words bitter on her tongue.  She thought she’d read it in him so clearly…the want, and it had woken something up inside her too…and no she didn’t want to pick it apart and talk things over in that dingy bar, she wanted to jump his goddamned bones and go from there, but now…

He pulled back from her, his expression hard and closed-off.  Yeah, they were done, and Lucy could only hope she hadn’t just obliterated the last of what he thought of her.  It stung, she was embarrassed, and if she sat another damn minute beside him the real emotions were going to start flowing.  It wasn’t until she snatched her purse up that he seemed to think he should say something, but she wasn’t interested.

“Lucy just wait a minute – ”

She tossed a few bills on the table.  “Drinks on me.  Enjoy.”  He stood up so quickly he almost knocked the chair over, but no one paid them any mind.  Certainly not Lucy, until she almost ran smack into him as he blocked her path, much in the same way she’d done to him earlier.

“Would you stop for just a minute?” he hissed at her.  “Look I already said this isn’t my thing, okay?  I don’t know how to do this.  I thought we were here to talk first.  I – I don’t understand what you need from me.”

 “How about maybe not insult me right after I – ” she waved her hand, clamping her mouth shut, the word “kiss” still to foreign.  Too loaded.

“It surprised me.  Maybe I had a bad reaction but I’m struggling here.”

“Then why did you come?  If it’s such a struggle then why in the hell did you look at me like that in the parking lot?  Why did you abandon my training, me after everything we’ve gone through these past few months?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t abandon you, I was trying to protect –”

“Yourself,” she finished for him.  “Don’t act like it was anything else.”

“Excuse you,” he sneered, “but you have no idea what my reasons were – are.”

“Then why not actually try some basic communication and tell me,” she said back.  “That’s all I wanted was a goddamned reason and you couldn’t even give me – ”

Lucy stopped talking when he took a step towards her, his hand grasping her upper arm as she was forced to take a step backwards, and another, and another until they were both in the short, darkened hallway by the bathrooms and a supply room. Tim kicked an empty crate out of her way, the noise startling her just before her back met the wall and he crowded in on her, his hand still firm on her arm as he brough the other to her face, tilting her chin upwards.

“You want a reason?” he breathed against her lips, her head beginning to spin as the reality of what they were doing, about to do and where stirring her insides until her core and chest clenched together.  She was dizzy with it, the want, but she managed a shaky nod before he closed the remaining distance between then, his mouth overtaking hers. 

#chenford #chenford fanfic #the rookie fanfic #tim x lucy #forgive the clunkiness #I did edit some but not a ton #just a little something #sashred answers

[raid3r-r4bbit]

Finished the show here's my thoughts:

I love everyone. Everything.

Sfx details of the head rotting, the ghouls, the VAULTS. Love that the wastes are super mad max. Brother hood is a cult and not a red pills wet dream finally. All the interplay fallout refs.

'They gave me a robe'

'...and slippers'

All of max in vault 4 was fucking hilarious.

Things I didn't like:

Is moldaver from vault 31 or a ghoul I'm confused.

I know we prolly gonna get em season 2 but no deathclaw bbs

Needs more raiders. That's it.

I was honestly worried it'd be awful and idk how ppl are mad about it not being lore accurate, because each game diverges a lil bit and changes stuff around. (To the point where 2, tactics and brotherhood are basically non cannon or picked apart for the lore ) but as an autistic bitch who only thinks about fallout 80% of the time it's pretty accurate to both interplay and Bethesda Canon. I can see a bit with the ghouls, and how some people think they know about the brother hood, but everything else is 100% yea that's how they work. And even then it's not too far off anyways.

Also me and my rm (@the-soup-witch ) were like *do it. Do the thing* kiss. Now they kiss. W/ max and Lucy so ahahahah.

'The most devious bastard in New York citayyy' and Jerry being apart of this was unexpected but very well loved.

The ghoul is hot. Like HHHhhhhHhhot but anyways ahaha.

Also fuck thaddeus for putting ddogmeat in the icebox.

When the fiddle music started I said 'I'd get tired of this so fast I'd prolly kill someone' only for it to be semi relevant like two minutes later. So that was fun.

I wanna go to filly and just run around giggling like an idiot.

#fallout #rambles #idk have fun #im bad at reviewing things so here