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roxineedstosleep · 3 months

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Could you do a snippet for yandere platonic Batfam where reader accidentally gets hurt and is able to hide it for a few days until someone (May be Dick?) finds it and asks / gets upset about it? Love your writing!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Hi there!!!

First of all: Thank you sweetie!

It's been a while since I've written, mostly because of the university, I'm about to graduate and I'm crazy because I'm approaching my final exams (I even have to defend my research work to be able to get my bachelor's degree)!

But, I got to thinking a bit about what you have written above… and even more so because I myself am a little bit crashed after my last film shoot for my final year of my degree. And can I just say that being in a bad way and having to hide it is terrible.

So… here goes!

(I'm sorry if I sound a bit comical in this writing, but I think the best way to get over something is to laugh at yourself a bit so you don't think about the pain too much; I hope you enjoy it anyway.)

Disclaimer: I don't know if you've noticed, but English is not my native/mother tongue. Occasionally, when I think too much, I write them in my language and then translate it in a trusted translator. So, if there's a grammatical problem or a strange term, it's the translator's fault.

Let's face it… having a large family is terribly exhausting.

It's never quiet enough, everyone is in everyone else's business, you can't leave your favorite mermelade in the fridge for less than a day. Someone is always occupying the bathroom or using your favorite shampoo or watching something on TV at too much volume and someone is probably occupying your bed at nap time.

Did I mention about meddling too much in other people's business? Yes? Well… triple it.

Having multiple siblings was new.

Having multiple siblings, a father and a butler/grandfather isn't exactly bread and butter either.

It wouldn't be so bad to belong to a large and numerous one if it was your blood family and you had lived with them all your life. I mean, sometimes blood is too thick and you have no choice but to learn to love them or just be nice to each other.

Like I said, it wouldn't be so bad if they were really your family.

But the Waynes were not your family. Not distant relatives or anything like that.

You were just living your life, as quietly as possible… and poof!

New room, new butler/grandfather, pets beyond belief, 4 new male siblings and a father with serious emotional constipation issues. And, to add more salt to your wound…. all have serious abandonment issues and death-related trauma.

After several escape attempts, sleep strikes, hunger strikes and any other kind of protest that an anarchist could be proud of… you realized that it was simply impossible to get out of this without risking the path of death.

Which, to top it all off, was also unreliable because apparently your older brother Jason had revived as well as another of your siblings. So no, dying was also not a viable option to which one could resort in the worst case scenario.

What to do?

Well, not much. Trying not to die of suffocation of affection or finding a way to have privacy while going to the bathroom just seemed to be the best survival tools you could resort to.

What does that entail?

It implies that Tim was going to give you hours and hours of lectures on his latest discovery of a case, even if you don't understand half the things he's told you or mentioned at all.

Richard and Damian trying to teach you new tricks almost every second, taking you to the Zoo or not leaving you alone to go to the bathroom.

That Jason, oh holy cow he is the only one more relaxed, takes you with him on his motorcycle to eat ice cream and to the public library. Without being able to scape, because it seems that you have a kind of GPS inserted in the bone marrow.

(Sometimes you don't know if it's true or not, but sometimes you also felt pain between your bones, almost during the cold seasons, and you didn't want to burst your poor little head thinking of different viable possibilities knowing them. No scars, no remembering anythins about any surgery).

Have a grandfather who will not hesitate to make you cookies, your favorite foods whenever you want … without leaving you aside at any time.

Plus a terribly quiet father, who if he can will carry you for as long as you spend time together, won't let you near the secret basement and enjoys being in the same room with you.

Do you see any privacy in this?

No, because even at the bathroom door would be the pets trying to get in and see you for themselves while you want to do your business.

The worst of that? Titus always judge you when you close the curtains.

As I mentioned and it was clear: Having a large family implies little privacy… Having a large, obsessive family means NO privacy.

So, knowing that you have over 50 nanochips tracking in all your clothes, two security monitors embedded - God knows how - in your body (monitors that only tell you if you are in designated safe place), 20 high definition surveillance cameras in every room and a Great Dane chasing you like a chick …. How the heck do you fall down the stairs and hit your pelvic bone without anyone noticing?

No kidding, how?

And if you had to blame someone for your fall… you'd totally blame Damian for it.

It's not that the kid pushed you down the stairs, but over time he had tamed himself into various things and relaxed into looking his age. You know!!! He started acting like a normal teenager!

What do Damian's kids do at his age? Well, they leave things lying around and have messing around them when they can, of course they do!

You just wanted some yogurt with orange marmalade. Maybe some oatmeal cookies. Alfred had left it for you in the fridge when he noticed you'd been watching video tutorials on homemade marmalade for hours. Who were you to deny such a gesture of generosity?

I mean, Alfred was the one who allowed you to hide in the attic for hours on end so you could have some time to yourself.

And how did it end? You, slipping down the main stairs of the old Wayne mansion, down a nicely polished wooden staircase, rolling all the way down (which is no small flight of stairs, it should be noted) to the bottom of the first floor.

Now, lying on the ground is not so bad in itself. What is bad is not being able to feel your legs and still not being able to understand how you manage to tidy up your neural wiring so that your legs can still move on their own and go to the kitchen to rescue all the delicacies Alfred left you in time.

And it's a good thing you managed to do it… because within seconds Bart had rushed in to ransack the fridge and the fruit basket.

But that's not the point.

The important thing is that this time you managed, I insist a little on the feat of action, to climb up to your room and not notice how you couldn't really feel your legs.

You ate, you lay down… and to your bad or good luck, you couldn't get up …. and without anyone noticing there was an emergency and everyone went out to sort it out.

Weak limbs, limited movement and you don't want to mention the embarrassing actions you did in order to go to the toilet.

It's not like you hid it either, I mean, there was no one who could even notice because they weren't entirely available to watch you. Nor is it that you would have run away, otherwise they would have been at your side in less than a second.

The detail, as they insist, is that you had probably bruised your back badly and your body was now taxing you extra for your food craving.

I insist, you did not hide anything.

But still, when you're found completely itchy on the floor, ridiculously trying to run away in the direction of the bathroom… that's when everyone really goes crazy.

First, having to carry you and not dying of embarrassment when you notice that Bruce definitely doesn't give a damn about having to carry you to the bathroom and do almost everything for you.

Or having Dick and Jason carry you and fit you into some kind of weird medical scanner they have in the cave.

Or that Tim keeps track of your periods, types of meds you take and, for fuck's sake, knows how the fuck to inject something into your spine.

Or that Damian had the gall to look a little embarrassed when he heard that a pair of boxers lying outside the laundry basket was to blame for all this.

NO matter.

At the end of the day they heal you, pamper you, leave you alone when you need to take a nap and figure out a way to fix it without looking like complete maniacs who built some kind of internal plumbing that sucks up the dirty laundry and throws it straight into the washing machine.

Like the time they didn't look like maniacs by sanding all the edges of the tables and nightstands.

Or the time they bought a whole brand of sanitary towels when they realised that not all women use tampons.

Don't worry, they're looking out for you… even if they look like deranged Arkhan freaks in the process.

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that-student-that-has-homework · 2 months

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Pretty Girl - Portgas D. Ace

I read this lovely little snippet by @mrsoharaa and felt the need to know what would happen next. Written with permission!

Check out my MasterList for more of my writing!

To be fair, Marco actually wasn’t teasing him this time. He’d been nose deep in a book and was just as deep in his thoughts when he’d made the request.

“Hey Ace, can you go and call” the first division commander squinted at the book, trying to recall the words but was clearly too distracted to, “can you call-we-what was-just call your pretty girl for me yoi?”

He wasn’t teasing him this time.

Ace had just simply had enough.

//—----------

It had started in the morning? maybe afternoon? who knows what time it was…after some good old fashion pirate revelry until who knows what hour of the evening.

He’d woken up in some weird kinda angle on some random corner of the ship, with a bit of a headache. So like any other day, he made his way over to the kitchen to get some food to fix his problem. After all, if his head hurt, he probably just needed some food, right?

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the slick Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates,” the Division Commander in question blinked at his Fourth Division counterpart, his lips pulling up at the strange greeting.

What’d he mean by slick though? Just thinking about it made his head squeeze, so he decided to push it off until he had some food in his system.

“Thatch, I’m hungry,” he declared as he slumped himself on the kitchen counter, throwing his bottom half on a stool there, “gimme somethin’ to eat.”

“Comin’ right up,” the cook shot him an amused grin as he went about grabbing his disgruntled younger brother-in-arms some food.

“Hungover?” The question came from Ace’s side, where the head doctor sat, sipping on a cup of…well it wasn’t alcohol.

“Huh?” The younger man just blinked, trying to get the fog out of his brain. “Nah.” He rolled onto his side to better face his older brother. “Just got a headache.”

“Sounds like a hangover to me yoi,” the doc grinned over the rim of his mug.

Ace didn’t pay him much mind though, waiting for his food to arrive.

Though his silence seemed to encourage his companion, “especially with how much you drank last night.”

“Wasn’t that much,” he ruffled his hair in hopes to alleviate some of the pounding in his head.

“It was enough that you called a certain someone ‘pretty girl.’”

A moment of silence passed as Ace continued to aggressively knead at his scalp. His mind very sluggishly processing Marco’s words…he was just about to fall asleep again with how much his he-

HE DID WHAT?!

That blew all the fog and grog out of Ace’s brain and body, as he all but sprung to his feet in shock. The medic in front of him offered him little more than his usual lazy, lopsided grin.

The vertigo hit him right as the adrenaline wore off, and he was clutching to the counter to save himself from smacking into the ground. His grip only tightened as he heard footsteps from the other side of the counter rejoin them.

“Yo Ace, I fixed you a plate for your pretty girl too,” he chirped sliding over two plates, “if you wanted to go and deliver it to her.”

It had been a while since Pops had clobbered him, but the memory of his audacious, disastrous, flirty remark hit him much like one of Pops’ fists did. Of all things, he only came up with pretty girl?

He-just-urgh-just-just where was his hat when he needed it? He resorted to using his hands to hide his face from the other two commanders. He didn’t need to see them to know they were grinning - they were just oozing with entertainment.

“Ah don’t worry slick,” he could hear Thatch’s voice getting closer, “I’d say she took it well enough.”

The way the cook only barely got his sentence out before he and Marco broke out into snickers said otherwise. Ace grabbed his plate of food and moved to find a different corner of the massive galleon to eat in.

For the next few days, the different commanders would wink, snicker, smirk, borderline leer at him whenever you were in his general vicinity. They weren’t subtle about it, given pirates were generally as subtle as a sea king on land. They didn’t have to say it out loud for him to hear it though:

“Pretty girl.”

The behavior spread to the rest of the crew like wildfire. He’d have compared the spread to some nasty disease, but those usually knocked people out. Unfortunately this one seemed to rile them up, everyone seemed overly eager to be able to poke at him for his drunken declaration. By the end of the week, even the swabbies were in on it. They weren’t as bad as the commanders, but…ugh. Just…anyhow you’d think that, after a week, it would become old news, but no.

Nope.

Not this news.

Seems everyone on this damn ship was a gossip. Grown ass grizzled pirates, reduced to giggling gossiping gaggles of gremlins. The Second Division Commander couldn’t go for more than a few hours without hearing some kinda comment, or getting some kinda look.

Even pops was in on it now!

He’d found out when the old man had grinned at him, what was worse was that it was a good-natured grin. He wasn’t teasing him…but what he said to him, as a kind of encouragement, had left this poor son of Whitebeard feeling more flustered than ever.

Unfortunately all his attempts at getting the crew to cut it out were falling on deaf ears. His fellow commanders in particular had no problem ignoring his requests and continuing to tease him, which of course emboldened the rest of the crew.

Of course the worst part had to be…well, there was no way you didn’t know about what was happening. After all, you always put on an unbothered face, but he knew it had to be making you uncomfortable. After all it wasn’t like he’d ever followed up on that pretty girl comment while sober. Though he wouldn’t deny the little amused simpers that you’d put on whenever your fellow crew mates would leer at him had his heart doing little flips.

Anyway…

Things had finally died down a bit, with Ace getting some peace of mind. People had finally gotten bored. Meaning he could probably try…y’know…approaching you while sober…

Well they’d mostly died down…

//—--

“SHE IS PRETTY ALRIGHT?!” Yeah he’d had enough. “Do none of y'all have eyes?!” He raged on, over a week’s worth of agitation erupting from him violently.

“So what if I called her pretty girl?” There was a kind of catharsis in seeing the First Division Commander staring at him bug-eyed. “It wasn't a lie!” He threw his hands up in agitation. “That's for sure.”

“Uh A-”

“Like you all don't state the obvious sometimes!” He pointed an accusatory finger at everyone who was in the infirmary…which wasn’t much, but Thatch hadn’t left yet and he was one of the guys that teased him the most!

“A-”

“And!” He was burning up the whole place and there was no stopping him. “I never said she was my pretty girl! I just said she was a pretty girl!” Little flickers of fire left his shoulders. “And she definitely is pretty!” He flexed his fingers. “Gorgeous, beautiful, pretty, all the words that mean that!”

The Second Division Commander’s chest and shoulders heaved from the way he was panting after his rant. Man it felt good to get it off his chest.

He shook his head, getting the remaining frustration out before rolling his shoulders out. He felt a whole lot better. He stretched his neck, before turning to look at his stunned fellow commanders.

“Hey Thatch, I’m hungry,” he grinned, “can you make me something to eat? Or should I just go raid the fridge?”

That seemed to snap the cook out of it, “keep yourself out of my fridge and out of my kitchen hotshot!”

“Uh…Ace,” the fiery man turned to look at the medic that had sparked this outburst.

“Oh Marco, what did you need again?” He’d asked him to do something before mentioning you.

“It’s no problem yoi,” strange, the doctor seemed to be looking behind him.

Was there someone behind him? The young commander turned around -

Shoot.

He hadn’t said anything negative! But dang what he said sure as hell was damning. He must sound like a total creep. Just going on and on about how pretty he thinks you are. Could someone just launch him into the sea?

It didn’t help that the most unrelenting of the division commanders were here to see this horrifying display. They weren’t ever going to let him live this dow-

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked, hope pulling your lips up tentatively. “Even while sober?”

Ace managed to nod at that.

Gosh he felt stupid. This wasn’t how he wanted to do it. Why was he so trash at trying to compliment you?

“Well I think you’re pretty too,” you gave him a good-natured smile, “so there, we’re even.”

“Really?” Gah! Why was that the first thing out of his mouth?

Oh gosh it was so cute the way you fiddled with your fingers. You only ever did that when you were nervous-you only ever did that when you were nervous.

“I mean,” you grinned, “haven’t you ever looked in a mirror Ace?”

Ace was sure he’d turned his face to fire at that point. He was here fumbling over his feet like a baby dear, and you were so smooth, you might as well be polishing the deck with wax.

“Um, in case that wasn’t clear,” you continued, “yes, really Ace, you’re pretty.”

Thatch let out a low whistle then, “well would you look at that,” he grinned, “a pretty boy for a pretty girl.”

“Stop teasing him Thatch,” you sighed, shooting the cook a look, “you’ve all teased him more than enough already.”

“Yo,” the longtime resident of the infirmary called out to you, “I was actually going to send Ace to find you yoi.”

“Oh did you need something Marco?” You walked further into the room, passing by the stunned pretty boy.

“Were you busy today yoi?”

“Not really, why? Did you need help?”

You thought he was pretty too?

Would you consider, maybe, going out on a date? He couldn’t help but stare at you as you continued to talk with his First Division Counterpart. He wasn’t about to ask you here, in front of these jerks, but maybe later…

Maybe later…

When you were sitting on the bow looking up at the stars that dotted the night sky. He’d ask you.

And you’d say yes.

#portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace fluff #portgas d ace #portgas d ace fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece #ace one piece

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friendshiptothemax · 1 year

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Hi all! You may have heard there might be a writer’s strike soon. The reason for this is that every three years, the Writer’s Guild (which represents basically every television and movie writer) negotiates with the studios and networks (collectively called the AMPTP) to hash out an agreement of what guidelines the AMPTP have to follow if they want to hire a Writer’s Guild writer. If they can’t make an agreement by the time the contract from three years ago expires, which is on May 1, then no one will be able to employ a Writer’s Guild writer until a new contract is reached. That’s what a strike is. I don’t know if one will happen or not. Everyone, including the writers, deeply hope we’re able to make an agreement before May 1 and everyone will keep working. That being said, our last contract expired right at the start of the pandemic and everyone involved just kind of said “hey everything is weird right now so let’s not fight” so essentially we’ve got six years’ worth of grievances to talk about -- that is why this one seems especially contentious.

So that’s the background. The WGA and the AMPTP started negotiations this week. This is expected to continue throughout April -- no one expects to know either way until the end of April. Something very important I want everyone on Tumblr to know -- while negotiations are happening, the WGA has committed to a complete media blackout. No member of WGA leadership or the negotiating committee will be speaking about how things are going to the media. This means that if you see an article talking about the WGA’s position, whoever gave them that information is not talking for us -- and, since this is a two-sided negotiation we’re talking about, are probably talking directly against us. Use critical thinking on any negotiation-related articles you read -- does what they’re saying make sense? Who benefits from saying this?

Why am I saying this now? Well, yesterday, Variety published an article claiming that the Writer’s Guild is advocating for the use of AI. The article was full of twisted facts and confused falsehoods. The article took the WGA’s position that you can’t replace credited writers with AI and touted it as “the WGA is okay with AI as long as writers are credited!” That is an extremely bad-faith twisting of our position.The WGA had to issue a clarification of our position on twitter and now I’ve seen articles taking bits of THAT out of context -- specifically a Gizmodo article that implies that the Guild wants to take advantage of AI because it can’t be copyrighted, but their proof of that is a snippet from a section saying the reason we’re CONCERNED about AI writing is that it can’t be copyrighted.

And just, like....think about this for a second. Why on Earth would the Writer’s Guild WANT to replace writers with AI? Literally the organization whose entire purpose is to protect writing as a job? There’s no organization on Earth who would be opposed to it more. Every meeting I’ve been in has been unequivocally clear. WE ARE AGAINST AI. The second tweet in the thread I linked above says it outright: “AI can’t be used as source material, to create MBA-covered writing or rewrite MBA-covered work...”

It just seems to me like it would suck if we do head into a strike in May, and everyone is pissed off at us because they believe we are striking for something that is the EXACT OPPOSITE of what we want.

The WGA is in a media blackout. Be very skeptical of anything you read claiming to represent our position unless it comes from an official WGA source, like the one I linked above.

#writing #television #writer's strike

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ferrstappen · 11 months

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Max the wag (again)| Max Verstappen blurb

love note: I’ve loved the response to gossipy Max and (y/n) that I came up with this little piece 💘

YOU CAN FIND THE REST OF MAX THE WAG SERIES HERE

summary: a new break up hits the paddock and Max and you are the best investigators.

Canada GP, 2023

Max didn’t mean to overhear whatever was going on inside the four walls of Ferrari’s place on the track.

But if the information came his way, who was he to deny it?

He was mildly bored in between interviews and before FP1, not caring about interacting with people because you weren’t there, too many things to take care of, studying and being an intern didn’t allow you to be there with him. Still, he sent you silly pictures of him walking by himself (metaphorically since fans and workers were all over), he smiled at the WhatsApp sticker you sent him along with a picture of you, papers scattered all over your desk, iPad showing the F1 app.

While walking by Ferrari, he really really couldn’t help walking a bit slower as three engineers were enjoying a cigarette while loudly speaking to each other, motor and tool noises were ambient noise.

I heard she’d forgiven him once, after São Paulo last year.

What happened there? I keep hearing about it but i left to Abu Dhabi right after the podium.

Carlos and Norris contacted some girls and left with them or something along the way, kept it under wraps though but now? I think it was too much for her.

Shame, she was always polite and nice to everybody. She even knew our names!

And Carlos’ sister is getting married soon, he ducked it big time. I heard someone in the garage she decided to not go and his family is pissed.

It caught Max’s attention… he instantly recalled the conversation with you, trying to figure out if Carlos and Isa were still together. Clearly, they weren’t and the entire paddock was aware of it.

Maybe Christian could have more information about it.

But the first thing he did was to text you, announcing he had more information.

Info about what? Was your response, making Max’s eyes roll…

Sainz and girlfriend!

Max didn’t hear it, but you gasped at the simple text message. Max was very selective with the information he actually took seriously, and for him to tell you he heard something meant it was probably real.

Shut up! What did you hear? Who told you?!?!?

Max smiled, a smug grin knowing you were dying for the information, but he’d keep it for later, when he was laying on the hotel bed, fresh out of the shower, white t-shirt and shorts and ready to fall sleep. That’s when he was sharing the information.

He was surprised when you called him out of the blue and he chuckled, his gorgeous blue eyes getting smaller, little wrinkles forming, dimples showing.

“Hello schat, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Max teased, instantly taking in your neat hair, neutral make up and deep red lipstick… oh, what would he give to bite your lower lip and have his face and chest covered in faint red lipstick.

”don’t be coy! What did you hear? I heard the snippet of an interview and she sounded so broken it was so sad, but what did you hear?!” You rambled, making Max’s smile even bigger.

“I told you I’m sharing my discovery later, i’ll have to be in the car in thirty minutes or so,”

“I hate you so much, you can’t leave me hanging! I don’t want to ask her directly!” You complained like a toddler, noticing Max was just staring at you through the screen.

“I love you, I have to go,” Max said after he noticed part of the Red Bull PR team approach him. He was waiting for you to tell him you love him too, but your words weren’t exactly what he was expecting.

“Max babe, try to get info on Shakira and Hamilton!”

Honestly, you and Max were a match made in heaven.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen au #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen one shot #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #max the wag

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penny00dreadful · 11 months

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Can't start another WIP she said, bitch she fuckin LIED. Personal Assistant Steve to Rockstar Eddie snippet. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

Smoke curled lazily above them in the slightly chilly night air. Neither of them had bothered to put any clothes back on but they were still warm enough from previous activities so it didn’t really matter.

The guy, Jake? John? James? J- Julian! That was it. Julian was standing next to him just out of arms reach now that the horny haze between the two of them had worn off.

Eddie supposed that was to be expected.

The poor guy probably had no idea if he was about to be booted unceremoniously out of a rockstars luxury hotel room after crashing together under a fog of uppers and thumping music at the after party before they both had quickly fumbled their way into Eddie's bed for the night.

He had no idea if fuckin' security or some shit was going to burst through the door and drag him out half or fully naked now that Eddie was done with him.

And it probably hadn't helped that they had been walked in on, they'd barely been in the room a minute before Steve came looking for him, talking a mile a minute about tour schedules and pre-approved interview questions before he'd realised he was looking at Eddie practically humping the guy against a wall.

They'd stopped when Steve walked in obviously but it had been pretty clear what they were doing and Steve, ever the professional had just rolled his eyes and told Eddie he'd be back in the morning.

Julian clearly had no idea if he was safe here now that the deed was done but Eddie wasn't an asshole. He could be a bit callous all right but he wasn't opposed to his hook-ups hanging around for a little bit if they seemed like cool enough people. And the guy seemed nice enough so he didn’t mind letting him stick around.

Julian sighed a little heavily and ran a hand through his muddy blonde hair. “I feel kinda bad now.”

Eddie turned his eyes over to him. “About what? The sex?” He pulled in a drag from his cigarette.

“No!” Julian answered quickly. “No, the sex was great, really. I mean about your... Your assistant? Probably not the easiest thing for him to see.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie shook his head. “Steve’s seen much worse, believe me. The stories that man could tell.” He laughed. “It's not the first time he's walked in and it probably won’t be the last but he’s practically immune to it at this stage. He’s dragged me by the hair out of celebrity drug dens, parties… he’s pulled me out of more orgy piles than I can count so you know… no skin off his back. ”

“That’s not really what I meant.”

“What then?”

Julian grimaced and glanced down with a look somewhere between guilty and sad. “You really don’t see it?”

Eddie ashed out his cigarette, shrugging and headed back inside. He wanted to get back into bed, his feet were cold and his body was aching from the show he’d just performed. Honestly he could do with as much sleep as humanly possible but he hadn't any idea what the guy was talking about. He'd meant what he'd said, Steve had seen him in just about every position it was possible for a person to be in pre-sex, mid-sex and post-sex. This was nothing new to him.

Julian followed him back inside and hovered awkwardly at the end of the bed, trying to pick his words and unsure if he should be picking his clothes back up from the floor or getting back into bed.

Eddie pulled the corner of the covers back. “I’m not going to kick you out, you can stay if you want or you can go. Up to you.”

Julian bit his lip but crawled in regardless, lying down to face Eddie. The darkness of the room and the way the two of them were lying facing towards each other felt like some kind of confessional.

“He’s clearly in love with you, dude.”

Eddie couldn’t help the full on belly laugh that came out of his mouth. “Steve?!” He asked incredulously. “No way, man. He’s my P.A. and one of my closest friends. Plus the guy is straight as an arrow. Your gaydar must be off or something.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well… I mean… look at him!”

Steve was… he was the straightest looking man around. All business suits, perfectly styled hair, slightly out of date glasses and ex-jock charisma and physique.

Julian didn’t answer, just cocked an eyebrow at him.

Eddie huffed. “Yeah, okay, I’m stereotyping but like… he fucks women.”

“You fuck women.”

“Rarely.”

“But you still do.”

“Okay… but… he… listen I know Steve, alright? The guy isn’t in love with me.”

Julian shrugged. “I dunno, man. I’m not trying to be an ass, I swear but it was very obvious… to me I guess.” He sighed again then muttered “Maybe I’m just very familiar with that look.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah." He tucked his hands under his head. "See it every time I look in the mirror.”

“Oh. Well shit. Who’re you breaking your heart over?”

“My best friend. Danny.”

Eddie hummed, rolling onto his stomach and shoving his arms under his pillow, rubbing his cheek against the fabric. “Tell me about him.”

Julian broke into a wide but bashful smile, so bright it was practically lighting up the dark room though it was sharply undercut with just a hint of melancholy.

“He’s the most loving, giving person I’ve ever met. He’d only just turned eighteen when both his parents died and out of nowhere he’s got three younger siblings that are now in his care and the guy barely knew how to look out for himself, you know? He once tried to microwave an egg to cook it. But he really stepped up. He grew up. Like, can you imagine being eighteen and having to go to parent-teacher meetings when you’d only just left school yourself and trying to teach his kid brother how to shave or talk his sisters through puberty… he’s just so… you know?”

Eddie wasn’t really sure he did know. This Danny person made him think of Steve, serial adopter of anyone even remotely younger than him. Sometimes older than him, if Eddie was to count himself. The kind of person who seemed to make it their life's mission to take care of others. He could see the appeal of Best-Friend-Danny, honestly. Steve probably had better hair though. He always had better hair.

“And Danny’s straight?”

“No.” Julian frowned. “He’s not. And I don’t know if that makes things worse. Because he could choose me. But he never has. Over and over and over again, he hasn’t chosen me. He probably never will. And I need him in my life. So I’ve learned to deal with just friends. It’ll... It'll be good enough.”

“Fuck, that’s heavy. I’m sorry man, sounds like it sucks.”

“It does suck. Sucks dick and balls, actually.”

Eddie allowed himself a little giggle at that but the whole situation had wound itself around his brain. Not for the first time he was forced to remember that there are other people out there, other people like him and other people nothing like him who use music, use sex, use drugs and drink and anything else they can get their hands on just to alter their minds for a few hours. Just to forget and get away from it all. Unfortunately this poor guy seemed stuck in the kind of tragedy poets have been writing about for hundreds of years.

They didn’t share any more words, both dropping off to sleep fairly quickly, lost in their own thoughts.

The next morning they shuffled around each other, lazy and easy now that any post-sex awkwardness had left, grumbling and sore from the show, the various substances they’d ingested, the after party and the sex from the night before.

They took turns in the hotel room's quite frankly obscenely fancy shower.

Julian slowly pulled his clothes back on, wincing whenever he had to bend his back while Eddie made it easy on himself, just throwing on his usual ancient and ratty lounging clothes.

The things Julian had said to him the night before were all but forgotten. Because it wasn't even something that was worth considering in Eddie's mind.

Steve? In love with him?

It was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard in his life. Steve was like some kind of clean cut poster boy for straightness.

Even if he wasn't straight they'd just be downright incompatible in every other sense of the word. He was punctual, a morning person, he exercised for fun, he watched sports, he was a bitch and he was always so put together.

Eddie... Eddie was none of those things.

Maybe he could be a bit of a bitch.

Sometimes.

Plus, even if it was true and that was a big if, Eddie wasn't in love with him back, so like...

Nothing would ever come of it anyway.

Just before Julian left, Eddie beckoned him back over.

The kiss wasn’t romantic, or heated. If anything it was downright platonic, like closing the book on their short story together.

“For luck.” Eddie smiled and patted him lightly on the chest, watching as Julian turned and left the room, his own small smile on his face.

It was nearly a half an hour later and Eddie was really getting into whatever episode of Real Housewives he’d stumbled upon, he wasn't sure, when Steve walked through the door, carrying a large and violently pink strawberry frappuccino with him.

Eddie made greedy, grabby hands at it from his lounged position on the bed. “You’re a saint.” He said, snatching it up.

“I’m aware.” Steve replied with a dry tone, hands on his hips.

Eddie gulped back two bitingly cold mouthfuls. “No, seriously, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me I swear to god." He gulped down another mouthful, ignoring the sharp throb in his teeth. "You gonna watch?” He gestured to the tv. “I think we’re a few episodes behind.”

Steve scoffed. “While I’d love nothing more than to sit on your dirty sex sheets, I have an actual job to do. Y’know, I have to organise your whole damn life-”

“Excuse you, I have an actual job too!”

“Drugs are not an actual job, Eds.”

“Tell that to a pharmacist.”

“Whatever. Drink your disgusting sugar and cream concoction and try not to get into too much trouble today. We're back on the tour bus at 6am sharp!” Steve started slowly backing towards the door, pointing at him. “And do not watch ahead from the last episode we saw together. We’re catching up on it over the weekend.”

“Can’t make any promises.”

Steve’s hands were back on his hips again and Eddie smiled around his straw.

“You’re the bane of my fucking existence, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

Something flashed across Steve’s face, there and gone before it ever settled. A tightening of his mouth, a clench in his jaw, a pinch in his brows, there and gone. Maybe if Julian had never said anything, Eddie wouldn’t have noticed. Maybe if the thought hadn’t been primed he wouldn’t have seen it.

How many times had he not seen it before?

Steve rolled his eyes, as bitchy as ever. “I’ll be back with the car in an hour. Try to look somewhat human by then, please?” He didn’t wait for an answer, turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him.

Well…

It was probably nothing…

Right?

Part 2 out now! Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

#steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #eddie x steve #fanfic #steddie fic #penny00dreadful #stranger things fic #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar eddie #personal assistant steve #personal assistant steve harrington #modern au #somebody to love

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coldbronzemoon · 1 year

Text

Danny Fenton, Totally Mortal Hero Consultant (DPxDC)

Snippet for an AU I'll probably never fully write where Danny takes a job as a consultant for the Justice League to help with ghost and demon bullshit. It's a pretty good cash flow to help him with college, after all, and very flexible hours.

He just claims all his knowledge comes from his parents. Unfortunately, the JL has caught word of the elusive yet active hero Phantom, and want Danny to help them meet and assess him. Whoops.

Over the phone, Tucker sighed. “Good Christ, Danny, why do you keep doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Danny said immediately. He winced at the vague sound of screaming below. Demons sucked. “I didn’t know the JL thing was gonna have me finding Phantom. How would I? They were talking about tracking down powerful ghosts, I was assuming Ancients!”

Tucker sighed again, which was really quite unfair of him. “Mhm. Well, Fenton Catcher?”

“Probably not. They know me pretty well at this point, and unlike what Sam says I can be professional. I’d confuse them with the… uh…”

“Stoner shtick?”

There was more screaming happening, but judging from the pitch it was a demon screaming this time. Danny checked the situation. Yep, demon getting their ass kicked. He didn’t need to get involved with a blaster. Yet.

Instead, he scowled at his phone. “Stop calling it that.”

“You’re gonna tell me flanny Danny wasn’t a pitch-perfect stoner, huh? With the chill vibing and the dopey look?”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, bud.”

The sound of a clacking keyboard that had underlined their conversation stopped. “But seriously, Danny, what the hell are you gonna do with this?”

“Uh, lie, probably,” Danny said, because it was very likely.

“Alright, smartass, what are you going to do when that lie backfires on you like literally every other one does?”

“That’s when I start gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing, babe.”

He had a hard time hearing Tucker’s distant groan of “Why am I still your friend?” on account of the sudden explosion. Danny checked again. Hm. Demon dude had a nasty fire thing going on.

Danny switched on his Fenton water gun—holy water included!-- and shot the demon in the face. They let out a cracking hiss of rage, but dropped the fire spell thing. He waited for them to stop looking around wildly for the culprit for a moment.

He went back to the call. “‘Cause you loooove me, Tuck. From the bottom of your twice-dead heart.”

“Unfortunately,” Tucker deadpanned.

Danny just cackled. It was lost amongst the sound of supernatural bullshit below.

“Anyway, I’m still figuring out my plan A, honestly. Might bring in gray-man?”

“Amorpho’s an asshole, though. He’ll ruin the whole thing by taking the opportunity to shift into a JL member for a bit.”

Hm. True.

“Yeah, but he’s the main guy I know with that power set.”

“Ask after Desiree?” He could hear the immediate distaste in Tucker’s voice. “Ugh, pretend I didn’t say that. That’s worse than Amorpho.”

“It’s awful,” Danny agreed easily.

Desiree was actually pretty alright nowadays, mostly on account of Danny remembering the last couple minutes of Aladdin and wishing she could refuse wishes she didn’t want to grant. That had made her happy enough to stop actively picking fights.

Unfortunately, spending the entirety of one’s afterlife twisting the wording of wishes to their worst form made it hard to stop being an asshole. Who knew! So getting Desiree to split him in two for like a week had a 50/50 chance of fucking up his work relationship with the literal league of superheroes irrevocably. And this was his main cash flow right now.

So, no Desiree, no siree.

“Come up with something better then, asshole.”

Danny hummed and, since the heroes below were focused on the demon, lifted up a little and did a thoughtful back flip. What to do, what to do…?

Oh!

“My cousin!” he exclaimed.

“What cous—? Oh, Ellie.”

“Yeah, Ellie, Tuck. Which other cousins do I have?”

Tucker scoffed. “You literally have that whole Nightingale thing going on through your dad?”

Danny couldn’t help the face he made. The remaining Nightingales were worse than his parents somehow. “The Nightingales don’t count.”

“You can’t just say they don’t count.”

“I can say that, actually, and I will. They’re, like, cousins through my great-great-great-grandpa anyway.”

“Isn’t there a fight going on over there? Should you be shooting someone?”

“Yeah, probably.”

He peaked down through the window once more. The heroes must have gotten the first demon to leave while he was talking, because the horned demon fighting them now was a truly unfortunate shade of yellow-green instead of purple. Or maybe it had transformed for some reason? They had it about as in-hand as the other one, though, so Danny definitely didn’t need to go down there. He shot the maybe-new demon in the face real quick.

“Anyway, Ellie can totally help out, she’s been practicing with changing up her looks. She’s also more, uh, malleable than me, what with her situation and all. Looking fully like Phantom shouldn’t be hard.”

Tucker hummed. “She’d try to embarrass you though.”

“Yeah, that’s a problem.” Danny spun in place. “I could bribe her?”

“With what? Her life doesn’t involve needing much cash.”

“She doesn’t get out to the Zone very much. Not many of the inhabited places, anyway. I can promise her the weird apple things Dora’s been growing with Sam’s help, she loved those.”

“If you think that’ll work…” Tucker trailed off dubiously.

Danny laughed. “She’s annoying sometimes, but she’s not gonna fuck over my job if I ask her not to. I’ll just bribe her extra hard for resisting the temptation to mock me.”

“Fair enough.” The clacking of keys resumed. “I’ve really gotta pay attention now, someone’s trying to stop me from getting into this database. Someone half-decent, actually, did they upgrade? Hm. Make sure no one died, yeah?”

“They’re alive. Bye, Tuck,” Danny said, and ended the call.

He shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket and made his way down the stairs. The fight outside he had been stationed for was basically over—Captain Marvel and Green Lantern (Danny was pretty sure he had accidentally learned the dude’s actual name at some point, but hell if he could remember)—had pulled out the magic restraints one of the other consultants had handed out.

That had probably been Constantine. Ugh. Constantine. Dude could stand to lighten up a little; skulking and smoking all the time wasn’t the base state of someone enjoyable to be around. Then again, Danny knew he annoyed the shit out of some of the league with his own attitude, so he maybe shouldn’t talk. But at least he was annoying with a smile!

Case in point: Danny grinned at the heroes. “Got it handled?”

“Suppose so,” said the Green Lantern, “though a little more help would have been nice.”

Captain Marvel was too busy getting in a minor tussle with the demon to say anything either way.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m like, pretty mortal,” Danny said. “I’m not fucking with demons right where they can hit me. And I did shoot him!”

Green Lantern rolled his eyes, but admitted the point. Danny cheerfully flipped him off anyway.

“I’ll be heading out, then, the hellmouth this guy crawled out of is like three miles away.” Captain Marvel said, hauling the handcuffed demon over his shoulders like a very angry backpack.

“Oh, one more for the road!”

Danny hit the demon with a final water gun shot. Hissing and scrunching their face like a cat, the demon tried to lunge at him. It wasn’t very successful. Weirdly non-verbal for a demon, who usually had to talk to make deals and steal mortal souls, but Danny wouldn’t judge. Might be a minor demon. A really basic imp? Who knew.

“Stop being a little bitch and you won’t get spray-bottled, asshole,” Danny chided.

With a loud laugh, Captain Marvel sped away.

#dp fanfic #dp fic #dp x dc #dp x dc fic #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc crossover #if anyone wants to use this idea feel free lol #my writing

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justagalwhowrites · 2 months

Text

TikTok Trend

Beautiful decides to take part in a TikTok Trend with Joel. A New in Town drabble.

^We're borrowing Mr. Ben for a late-40s Joel, OK? I desperately need more gifs of Pedro's Joel from that era, I'm too reliant on other characters and actual Pedro gifs for these fics GIVE ME SOMETHING PLEASE

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from New in Town

Warnings: Not much! Age gap but not the focus of the fic (reader is 36, Joel is 48). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 1.4k

A/N: I got stuck thinking earlier how Joel would react to the "call your boyfriend your husband" trend and this is how I think it'd go. This is set about 3 months before the last chapter of New in Town. This can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that reader is Sarah's best friend and Joel and Reader have an established relationship of about a year.

“So what’s this for again?” Joel asked as he sat down at the picnic table in the park.

“It’s a TikTok challenge,” you said, settling in beside him. Joel opened the paper bag the two of you had just gotten from a food truck and started taking out the tacos, putting some in front of you and him.

“Right,” he said. “And… I’m sorry, baby, but what’s the point?”

You laughed as you set your phone against your water bottle so it was propped up and ready to film.

“There isn’t really one, I guess,” you said. “It’s just a fun little video you make and then share. Those interns I have until May are all about it, they were showing me some of theirs the other day. Figure if I work in marketing, I gotta keep up with the trends!”

Joel smiled a little.

“So this is the kind of shit Sarah does, huh?”

“Yeah, she does,” you laughed again. “Her and the interns made one for the company social page the other day, actually.”

“Can I see?” He asked, interest suddenly piqued.

“Sure,” you picked your phone back up and found your company’s TikTok, scrolling to the video and handing it off to Joel.

“We work in marketing, of course we over analyze every ad we see,” Sarah said through your phone, a small smile on Joel’s face as he watched.

It made you smile, too. One of the fun parts about being in the strange middle ground between your boyfriend’s and best friend’s ages was serving as a bit of a translator between them. Joel still didn’t quite get TikTok. Sarah didn’t understand why her dad refused to go all in on streaming and still had cable. You, at least, could see both sides.

But this TikTok effort had nothing to do with Sarah. You did try to keep up with the trends on social media to better craft campaigns and content - capitalizing on trends meant that you had to move quick and you couldn’t afford to be out of touch - but your personal TikTok account was mostly empty. It was pretty private, anyway, shared with only a few close friends like Sarah and Maria. All it had were a few reposts of things you liked, some montages of video snippets from you and Joel’s first vacation together, that sort of thing.

“You should do some of the trends!” Jason, one of your interns, said earlier that day.

“Just being in the loop on trends is plenty for me,” you waved him off but smiled. “I don’t need to participate.”

“But it’s fun!” Kenzie, your other intern said. “They’re not all dances and stuff, you know…”

“I know,” you said. “But it’s just not what I want to spend a lot of time doing is all.”

“Some don’t take much time,” she said, opening her phone and scrolling for a second. “Here, this one’s easy. You said you have a boyfriend, right?”

“I do…”

“Cool,” she said. “So all you do is record yourself making a video where you call your boyfriend your husband, just to see how he reacts. No crazy edits or anything, it’s super easy.”

You caved after some light convincing and came up with a plan to get Joel in front of the camera. You told him it was a spicy food challenge, just to see which of you handled the heat better and, while you knew he wouldn’t really get the point, you knew he’d be supportive. He always was.

But there was something about this trend in particular that made you a little nervous. It’s not like the two of you hadn’t discussed marriage. You’d been together a year now, you’d just moved into his house. It had definitely come up. But it had come up in the way that far off things do, something that might happen some day if things fell into place in just the right way. You didn’t want to push it, didn’t want him to feel rushed or obligated, especially since you’d only been cohabitating about a month. Bringing up marriage - even like this - made you nervous.

“OK I think I get it,” Joel handed you your phone back after watching Sarah’s video twice. “But we’re not doin’ that same thing, right?”

“Nope,” you said. “We’re going to see who handles the spice better.”

“Think we both know which one of us is gonna win that one, Beautiful,” he teased, nuzzling his nose against your temple before kissing your cheek. “Us southern men are made of sterner stuff…”

“Yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes but smiled, leaning close to him. “We’ll just see about that.”

You set your phone up to record again, propping it against your water bottle.

“Here, you gotta get in close because the TikTok format is vertical,” you said and Joel adjusted so you were half beside and half in front of him, his arm going around your waist, hand finding your hip, thumb slipping up below your shirt to find your bare flesh above the band of your pants and brushing you slowly, sensually there. You gave him a look.

“What?” He asked, brows raised, smile barely contained.

“Don’t act all innocent,” you shook your head. “You know exactly what you’re doing…”

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s make your little TikTik video…”

“TikTok,” you rolled your eyes but adjusted yourself, your heart pounding.

“Whatever the kids are using now,” he said. “Because the sooner we’re done the sooner I can get you home…”

“Alright, I’m going to record,” you cut him off. “Behave yourself!”

“Always do, Beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes again but took a deep breath, leaned forward and pressed record.

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, watching the recording of you and Joel as it was made on the screen. “I’m here with my husband and we’re going to do the spicy food challenge…”

“Your what?” He cut you off and you turned so you could see him a little better.

“What?”

“Did…” he paused, looking at you like he wasn’t sure if you were losing it or he was. You weren’t sure if that was good or bad. “Did you just call me your husband?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, turning back to the camera. “Anyway, my husband and I both really love spicy food and…”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence. Joel grabbed your chin almost roughly, pulling you around to face him and all but crushed his lips against yours, clutching you close, kissing you deep and hard, like he couldn’t get enough of you. When he finally let you go, you looked at him and laughed a little, watching him.

“What was that for?” You asked.

“You wanna call me your husband?” He asked, a serious look on his face. “Beautiful, we will go to the courthouse right this damn second, don’t tempt me…”

“Joel, it’s 7 p.m.,” you laughed. “The courthouse is closed.”

“Don’t care,” he said, giving you a quicker kiss this time. “C’mon, we’ll grab Sarah on the way, see if Tommy wants to meet us…”

“That’s all it takes, hm?” You teased, heart pounding but for a good reason now. “Just me slipping up and calling you my husband and you’re ready to run down the aisle?”

“Baby, I’ve been ready to run down the aisle for about a year,” he pressed his forehead to yours. “Just been waitin’ on you to catch up.”

“Well,” you kissed him softly. “I’m more than caught up. But think I’m still gonna make you ask.”

“Good luck stopping me,” he said, kissing you again, longer this time, needier, until you pulled away with a groan. “Forget this food challenge, I gotta get you home and devour you. Let’s go, wife.”

You laughed and stopped the recording on your phone, saving the video to drafts as Joel gathered up the food. You made the mental note to edit out that last part before posting, no need for the interns or Sarah to know quite that much about your sex life.

“Sorry for ruining your little video,” he said as you started back toward the car. “We can try again later, promise to actually behave myself then…”

“That’s alright,” you smiled, lacing your fingers with his. “I already got everything I need.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #new in town

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wolfjackle-creates · 3 months

Note

broski I beg of u to tell me about your Danny is Clark’s nephew wip im so intrigued

@hailsatanacab also asked about this one! I shared two snippets for them so check out Part 1 and Part 2. (about 900 words total between the two asks.)

This was inspired by the discussion on a prompt you made ages ago, actually! Here's the post. The main prompt isn't the inspiration, however. It was the comment about Danny joining the JL and [insert spiderman meme here].

Let's see if I have anything I can add. (I changed things enough when posting the first bits that everything else I have doesn't fit anymore.)

Eh, fine. Just went through and wrote another 600 words.

-----

Danny winced. “Yes, Uncle Cl— Kal. Uncle Kal.” Danny glanced next to him and realized Constantine had moved several feet away and was deliberately trying to not attract attention. He bit back a smile and pulled on the Prince Phantom persona Queen Dora had forced him to learn. “Thank you for your assistance, Laughing Magician. I now declare our deal complete and will make no further claims on you.” He waved his hand producing a piece of parchment which he handed over. “As promised, your payment.”

Constantine grabbed the paper and backed away quickly. “Great. Glad to do business with you, your highness. Hope your family reunion goes well. I’ll just—” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, then changed something and disappeared through a portal even as several of the League members present tried to yell at him to stop.

Danny rolled his eyes as he fell back into his more relaxed demeanor. “Oh, please. What more did you want from him? I’ll talk to Uncle Kal and he can decide what is important to pass on. Magician Constantine already told you most of what he knows.”

“Just… come on, Danny,” said Uncle Clark. “We need to talk.”

---

Finding a place to talk to Danny wasn’t the problem, Clark quickly realized. Shaking off his coworkers, however… Bruce in particular did not want to be left out. And Wally was too curious to be put off.

“Danny?” called Clark when he realized the kid wasn’t with him.

“By the viewing window,” said Bruce. “He seems to enjoy the view.”

“Right. Should’ve guessed.” Clark cursed himself silently for forgetting how much the kid loved space. “Batman, please. I know you like to know everything. But can I just talk to my nephew alone? I’ll explain everything I can after, but I need to know how this situation could’ve happened in my own family without my knowledge first without you being there inserting Opinions.”

“Very well. I’ll collect Flash and we’ll leave the two of you alone. But I expect a full report after.”

“I’ll make a peach cobbler, Ma’s recipe, and head to the Manor tomorrow to tell you everything.”

“I’ll let Nightwing know.”

Clark sighed. “I’ll make two cobblers.”

Bruce’s lips twitched upward, but he turned without saying anything more. “Flash! Since this matter is going to be delayed, I believe you still have to file your report on the incident last week.”

Clark chuckled as Flash protested. But he didn’t listen to their discussion, instead joining Danny by the viewing window. He settled an arm around his nephew’s shoulders. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“I can’t believe you get to come up here and look out at the stars any time you want.”

“I don’t get up here as much as I’d like, I’m afraid. And when I am up here, it’s because something somewhere is going wrong so I don’t get to appreciate it as much as I’d like to.”

“So, if you’re an alien, does that mean Dad’s an alien, too? Is that why he is the way he is? Am I part alien?”

Clark laughed and ruffled Danny’s hair. Like this, it felt almost insubstantial, like passing his hand through mist. “Fraid not, kid. No one knows why your dad is the way he is. I can’t remember how often he was tested for the meta gene.”

“Once a year every year from the time he was six until he was twenty-two and graduated undergrad and started living on his own. Then he stopped for a few years. Until he started dating Mom. He accidentally broke her apartment door once and she insisted he get tested again.”

Clark wanted to laugh, but all he could remember was Danny’s earlier statement. “Danny… Are you…safe with your parents?”

-----

Again, anyone is free to continue this! If anyone wants, I can combine everything into one post to make it easier to do so.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #clark kent #danny is clark's nephew #clark is danny's uncle #first time writing clark pov #hope there's no glaring errors

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ghouljams · 8 months

Note

I love witch darling and Price they have my whole heart (and Liebling and Konig bc I'm a sucker for straight pairings where the woman could say "heel" and the big scary guy would listen)

I just love the idea of visible claims, beyond just the obvious sexy stuff of "marked, now you're mine." Bc the way you wrote it it's more a sign of how long they've been together, how familiar they are, how much they long to have something somewhat tangible as a reminder that they're there for each other. It's an intimacy of knowing one another

Price and Witch being so intertwined that Price meets up with the other Fae boys and is confused at why they're shuffling uncomfortably until he realises he has Witches magic all over him and not only did he not notice bc he's become so used to their presence that it's a comfort but the fact that it's there means they have become so used to his presence they automatically warded him a little bit, not intentionally or through any rituals but their intent of wanting to protect him and keep him safe (and maybe even mark him what? Who said that?) Wrapped around him like a loving embrace. For a couple who's interactions started off measured and contract-like its a real step up to the point that welcoming him is as easy as breathing. (Loving someone like breathing)

Witch goes about their day perfectly happy until they notice something in the corner of their eye and see Prices magic clinging to their doorway, a sign to ward off any unwelcome visitors. And they should be mad at him but... the last time he was here was days ago and if they confront him they have to admit to themselves and him that it took them that long to notice after days of walking past, just accepting it as normal.

Witch wrapping their hair and their thoughts aren't even on Price but somehow their ambient love of him worms it's way into the intentions (I love hair wrapping btw)

Price having a stressful day and when he gets home (does he have a home? He feels a little bit like a bum that just waits to annoy Witch) he feels himself relax. And he's confused bc yeah this is his territory so it's safe but he's never felt the tension leave his body so quickly, until he notices he conveniently sat on the floor, right near his cigar tray, at the perfect height to smell the ashes from one of Witch's cigars.

I'm going to write just little snippets for all of these.

Everything feels warmer after leaving you, lighter, safer. Price lights a cigar while his boys watch him carefully. He raises a brow at them through the fingering smoke. If one of them has something to say they'd be best advised to get it over with. Soap nudges Gaz, who shakes his head quickly and nudges Ghost, who promptly throws Gaz under the bus.

"Gaz wants to say something," Ghost announces.

"You've gotten worse," Gaz tells him with a glare, "Why do I hafta do it?"

"'Cause he won't be mad at you," Soap chimes in. Gaz groans and leans forward, his elbows on the table.

"You're toting around Witch wards," Gaz is flat out with it, Price'll give him that.

"Am I?" It's barely a question in tone, but is he? He hadn't noticed. Now that he thinks about it though, he can still feel where your hands settled on his chest, your lips on his cheek telling him to take care. Your magic wraps around him like a blanket, ambient and comforting. That explains the warmth. Cheeky little thing, he should've known you'd pull something like this. You can't help yourself.

The part that gets him though, is he hadn't noticed. He always notices foreign magic like an allergic reaction. It itches his skin, gives him headaches. Especially witch's magic, he should've felt that immediately. Oil and water, it should have done something to him, caused a reaction of some sort. Yet even his smoke seemed clingier, soft with you.

He tugs at the lingering magic, feels it purr like a particularly clingy kitten. Well, it's not hurting anyone. It can stay.

"You're as bad as Ghost, you know that?" Gaz shakes his head. Ghost glares at him.

"When did I become the fuckin' benchmark?" He asks angrily.

It's been sitting quietly at the edge of your magical perception for days before you actually notice it. Passing through your front door you have to stop at the unfamiliar ward. You cast your eyes about as if you could see it, but come up short. Something in the familiarity of it worms its way into your brain and directs you where to look. How silly that you hadn't noticed him put his own protections on you.

You press your hand to the worn wood of your door frame with a smile. You can feel the residual magic Price must have left, how did you miss it? It's so clear and foreign to your own wards, that you should have noticed immediately. Even the edges of your wards have grown around it like one tree absorbing another. Strange that your magic would notice before you did, but you suppose you've grown so used to Price's magic it's become almost second nature to you. You can almost feel his hand under yours, fond, affectionate, warning anything that might pass by.

You take your hand off the door frame to touch your fingers to your lips, kissing them before tapping them against Price's seal. For luck, you think.

You're half way through rubbing lotion onto your arms when you notice you're feeling very pink. Not just you, your magic, your being. You check the bottle you're using, it's not any spell you're not used to, weird. You finish up with your body lotion and when the pink feeling doesn't dispel you go to check your shower to make sure you didn't mix any strange ingredients into your usual scrubs. You can't have any strange magic working on you when you see Price tomorrow or you'll have to cancel your date.

Date. You probably shouldn't call it that when you see him daily, but it feels special every time. He kisses you like it's special every time, like he'll never get another chance for it. You press your fingers to your lips with a giddy smile, feel the pink magic bubble happily.

You pick through your products with a witch's unintentional intent. Rose, rosemary, lilac, iris, weaving your little love spell into your skin and bubbling over with your happy thoughts. You'll school your emotions later, for now you're enjoying this. Besides, you don't have any clients scheduled for tomorrow, who cares if your magic is a little messy?

"Y'smell good," Price tells you when you see him, his arms around you as he presses his lips to any skin he can find. You direct his lips back to yours and feel the pink tinge him as his tongue drags against yours. His magic bleeds against yours, pulls as eagerly as his hands do until you're shivering against his chest.

You tip your head back as he kisses your throat, breathes you in with heavy intent. His beard tickles, scratchy but soft in a way that makes you think he takes meticulous care of it. His tongue drags against your pulse, his teeth sharp when they nibble your jaw.

"Y'know you don't need love spells for me, Sweatheart," He whispers in your ear and you feel heat pop over your cheeks, more embarrassed than anything else. Gods, that's what that is, isn't it?

"Date cancelled," You tell him a little breathless with him still kissing your neck. You whack his shoulders with your hands to get him off, "Price I need to wash all this off of me, you are going to make it worse."

"Fine by me," He tells you calmly, making no move to stop. You think he does this on purpose sometimes. Bastard.

Price kicks the door shut behind him, barely remembers to turn the lights on before he's collapsed back against his couch. The soft moonlight through the windows is less comforting and more indicative of how over-fucking-worked he is. Gaz has to start coming to court with him, take some of this load before it breaks his fucking back.

He exhales deeply, feels the billow of smoke release from his lungs. Unspent magic. It hooks itself to the walls and ceiling, hanging like kudzu vines, threatening to strangle anything that challenges its path forwards. He breathes in, feels the ash of his morning cigar swirl and spark. Soft and familiar. Yours, he smiles to himself.

You've made a sweet habit of gifting him cigars. Simple tobacco in tobacco, it shouldn't make a spell like this, but you are a wonder. He can smell your hopes while you were making this, the residual magic of your intent. "Remember me" Your ashes whisper to him, "Let me bring you peace, happiness."

It shouldn't surprise him to feel his muscles unwind, dragged down by your gentle magic. He can almost feel your fingers on his jaw tipping his head back onto the arm of the couch, your lips against his forehead imploring him to relax. How could he ever refuse your ministrations.

#I do love the idea of witch wrapping her hair or putting it in curlers #but I also know I have short haired readers #so just some nightly routine stuff #john price x oc #cod x reader #x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price x oc #captain price x reader #captain price cod #captain price #oc: witch #They're so disgusting I wanna gag #Anyway do you wanna take over writing for them because you fucking get it

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bellatriestowritesometimes · 3 months

Text

To Know

aaron hotchner x reader

Summary: You attend your best friend's wedding where you see Hotch for the first time in four years since you were shot on your wedding day by Peter Lewis, forcing him to go into witness protection and leave you.

Part 2

AN/explanation:

Listen it’s been a minute since I’ve written anything and by minute I mean 4 years so bear with me!! There’s probably spelling and punctuation errors but I wrote this in the middle of the night so cut me some slack.

OK so a bit of an explanation on this.. so you know how everyone has their imaginary scenarios they make up before bed or wherever (and if you don’t you’re weird!) well this is mine!! OK not really but ever since I watched CM which was probably about 5/6 years ago now, Hotch was on my mind 24/7 and I have this plot in my head with YEARS worth of scenarios thought out with original characters and everything!! This is just a small snippet of the whole plot I have had thought out for Hotch and Alex (that is what I have named her in my head, but have obviously written it as a Y/N to make it more enjoyable I guess? Idk what people prefer!!). I could probably write a book on this crap but I’ll just start with this part. I am in the process of writing a part two to this so if anyone’s interested I’ll try to get it out before the weekend’s over as this is the only free time I have currently! Now if I ever was going to make this into a series (that’s a very big if) this would be a chapter towards the end of this plot that I have created. Anyways enough rambling…

I am an angst over any other kind of genre girly so that’s all this will be :D this seemed better in my head and it ALWAYS does but I just wanted to get it out of my system.

Hope u enjoy xx

Warnings: smut (a little not too much), cheating.

Word count: 3.9k

It was your best friend’s wedding and you couldn’t have been happier. Henry was your rock and pretty much the only family you ever had. He had been with you through everything, all the highs and lows, so he deserved today to be absolutely perfect.

You were helping Luca with his tie and giving him a final check over before he went out to marry your best friend. Luca knew how important you were to Henry and how important Henry was to you. The three of you were practically a throuple. OK maybe not a throuple but anyone who was important to Henry became important to you. They had been together for almost 5 years but knew each other for even longer.

“He’s here you know...” Luca said “Henry invited everyone from the BAU..”

You raised an eyebrow at Luca whilst finishing up with his tie.

“I know,” you replied simply.

Henry was the one who got you a job at the BAU. He knew almost everyone and if he didn’t, he knew someone who did. He had helped out with several cases and knew everyone at the BAU well, so of course they all got an invite to his wedding which was in London. Henry knew your history with Hotch and that meant so did Luca.

“He has them all staying at the Ritz you know, booked a suite out for everyone,’’ Luca rambled.

“I know,” you repeated and rolled your eyes.

Of course he has you thought to yourself, money was never an issue for him. Not that it was for you either but you were slightly more modest than him.

Luca could sense that he wasn’t going to get anything else out of you so he decided to change the topic.

“You think we’re doing the right thing?” He asked referring to him and Henry.

“Absolutely,” you confirmed “he needs you Luca, I don’t even want to imagine what he would be like without you. It’s not something I’m prepared to take on” you let out a laugh. “You two have practically been married for the last 5 years, now it’s just time to make it official!” You gave his arms a squeeze.

“I’ll see you out there, no backing out now,” you gave him a wink and Luca gave you a nod with a smile.

You took that as your cue to leave and made your way towards the alter and towards Henry. As you made your way up to the front you saw all of the guests take their seats. You spotted JJ, Will and her boys a few rows from the front, who were staying at your place for the next few days. Emily, Spencer and Garcia were seated a few rows behind them and you spotted Morgan and Savannah seated on the other side of the room. You were trying to find Rossi and Krystall until your eyes landed on someone else. There he was sitting right next to Rossi with a brunette next to him which you assumed was Beth.

“How is he?” Henry’s voice snapped you back to reality.

“Huh?” Was the only thing that came out of your mouth as you slowly dragged your eyes away from the man that left you on pretty much your death bed and then divorced you.

“Luca – how is he? He’s not making a run for it is he?” Henry laughed but behind the laugh he needed the reassurance. He hadn’t been the perfect fiancé and has put Luca through the wringer at times, but there’s no one else for Henry other than Luca and vice versa.

“Stop being stupid!” You swatted him gently, “Of course not! I stopped him just before he got to the fire exit,” you replied playfully.

“Ha ha very funny,” Henry replied dryly, “And how are you? …You know with him being here.. You did say it was okay for me to invite him but I can send him home if you want. Just tell me and I’ll have him escorted out by security-”

“Please stop, it’s fine. Honestly I mean it. We’ve both moved on. I’m with Avery now and he’s with Beth,” you answered. “Besides today is not about me or my woes, it’s about you!”

The wedding ceremony was beautiful and it was now time for the reception. You made your way round to all the tables saying hello to the people you recognised until you reached the table you dreaded the most. Thankfully your husband Avery caught up with you to let you know that it was time to make your way to your seat as it was almost time for your speech.

You gave Rossi a smile in the distance before walking back to your seat, avoiding contact with Hotch for now who was sat right next to him.

After the speeches were done and the drinks began floating around the room, everyone felt a lot more relaxed. You were listening to the conversation Emily and Avery were having about a book they both had read, until you felt someone tap your shoulder.

“Hi you must be Y/N! I’m Beth, Aaron has told me so much about you!” Beth exclaimed as you turned around to face her.

“Yes hi! It’s lovely to meet you, I’m sorry I couldn’t introduce myself earlier,” you gave her a smile.

It was a genuine smile, she seemed nice and in any other situation you could even be friends. She is not to blame for what had happened between you and Hotch, however you did wonder what kind of things he has told her about you.

“It’s okay don’t worry about it! I understand how stressful weddings are,” she continued and for a second you thought if she had married Hotch without anyone telling you. Your eyes flicked towards her left hand that was wrapped around a champagne flute. No sign of a ring. You cursed yourself for still caring enough to check.

“That’s a beautiful ring” she said bringing you out of your trance.

You followed her gaze which was now on your own left hand. You hadn’t realised that you were twisting your own wedding ring with your thumb, reminiscing about how it felt when you had the ring on that Hotch gave you. It was a lot smaller than the one you have now. It had an oval diamond in the centre with three green sapphire leaves holding the diamond in place on each side. It was a delicate ring and you loved everything about it. Everything but the dreaded memories that came along with it. The ring was now replaced with a big teardrop diamond from Harry Winston and it was beautiful. It sparkled even in the dark and felt almost heavy on your finger. You had to admit that Avery had great taste, the two of you had now been married for almost 2 years.

“Thank you..” you smiled and let a breath out you didn’t know you were holding.

“Uhm this is Avery my husband-” you cleared your throat, almost forgetting to introduce him to her.

They shared a few polite words until Beth excused herself. You assumed she had gone to find Hotch as she disappeared into the crowd.

“She seems nice,” Avery said and gave you a small smile. He knew what had happened with you and Hotch and he wasn’t his biggest fan but he was never the one to bad mouth him.

“Yeah she does…” you replied quietly whilst your mind drifted off elsewhere. Emily sensed that you were uncomfortable and resumed her conversation with Avery in an attempt to take his attention off you.

It was several hours into the reception and you had stepped outside with Luca and lit a cigarette for you both to share.

You had noticed Beth was in the distance on the phone but Hotch was nowhere to be seen.

“Today has been beautiful,” you hummed as you took a pull of the cigarette and passed it to Luca.

“It really has been, thank you for helping Henry with the planning,” he expressed.

You both conversed about the wedding and your favourite parts until someone had interrupted you.

“Oh sorry,” your eyes followed his voice, “I thought Beth was out here,” he explained as he looked between you and Luca.

“She is,” you pointed with the cigarette between your fingers “she’s just gone into the gazeebo over there to take a call I think,” you replied.

“Thank you,” he looked into your eyes longer than he should have before he began walking her way.

“Is this the first time you’ve spoken to him tonight?” Luca asked whilst following your gaze that was still on Hotch.

“Yup.”

“There’s an explanation. I am sure he has an explanation,” Luca tried standing up for the man he barely knew.

You didn’t respond and instead focused your gaze on something else.

“You know… and I really shouldn’t be saying this but... I think Henry might’ve had something to do with it,” Luca continued.

“What makes you say that? Has he told you something?” You questioned focusing your attention back on Luca.

“Nope. He doesn’t tell me anything when it’s to do with work and I thank him for it. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he did. He would do anything to keep you safe. Even if it meant putting your newly husband into witness protection…”

You thought about it for a minute or so and yes maybe Henry was the one who suggested going into witness protection but that still doesn’t explain the radio silence from Hotch even after Peter Lewis was caught.

“I want you to have what me and Henry have,” Luca brought you out of your thoughts once again.

“I have that. With Avery, he makes me happy,” you replied not knowing if it’s the full truth. Avery does make you happy and you love him but you’re not sure if it compares to what you and Hotch had and it seems like Luca doesn’t either.

“Let’s get back in there shall we? I’m sure Henry is looking for you!” You perked up, trying to change a conversation that was becoming too heavy for your liking.

Since you were one of the few people who didn’t drink at the wedding, you decided to give Emily, Spencer, and Garcia a lift back to the hotel whilst Avery, JJ, Will, and the boys got an Uber home back to your place.

The car ride back to the hotel turned into an episode of carpool karaoke with Emily blasting any and every song that came on the radio.

Once you pulled up to the hotel you helped Emily out of the car and then let Spencer take over. You were about to shut the passenger door when you noticed a phone on the seat Emily was sat in.

“You left your phone Beyonce!” You called out to Emily as she was finishing her 3rd run of single ladies from the start.

You caught up with her and placed the phone in her hand, she took one look at it and blurted out that it’s Beth’s and that she had found it by some gazebo outside.

You pressed the lock button on the side and the phone lit up revealing a picture of Hotch and Beth set as the lock screen.

“What room is she in do you know?” You asked Emily but she just shrugged her shoulders and carried on signing. Spencer and Penelope both gave you a shrug signalling that they didn’t know either.

“Right I will just leave it with reception. The three of you get some sleep ok, we have brunch tomorrow!” You shouted even though the three of them were already inside the hotel queuing up for the elevator.

You pressed the lock button once again making the phone light up just to stare at the lock screen once more. With a sigh you then began to make your way into the hotel and walked towards reception.

“Hello Miss can I help you with anything?” The lady asked.

“Uh yes actually, I’m trying to return a lost phone to a friend of mine but I don’t remember the room number. Could you please let me know? It should be a suite under the name Hotchner, they’re here for a wedding,” you smiled hoping she’d give you the information you needed.

She typed away on her keyboard for a few seconds before replying to your question.

“I have an Aaron Hotchner on the system along with a Beth Clemmons sharing suite 107?”

“Yes that’s the one! Thank you so much!” You thanked the lady and made your way to the elevator. Emily and the others were long gone, probably passed out in their beds by now you hoped.

You tapped softly on the door waiting for someone to open it and hoping that it wasn’t Beth. You weren’t even sure what you were doing, what you were going to say, what if Beth’s awake, what would happen then?

You had no excuse and no business to be knocking on his hotel door. Well aside from the fact that he left you on your wedding night right after you got shot, had someone serve you with divorce papers as soon as you came out of your coma and you still haven’t had an explanation even though it’s been close to 4 years.

After a few moments the door was gently pulled open and there he stood. Still in his shirt and trousers from the wedding. He looked taken back seeing you stand there in the hallway. Although you were the only one on his mind tonight, you still had caught him off guard.

“Hi…” Was all that he managed to say.

“Hi…” you breathed out. “..Beth left her phone at the wedding reception,” you said holding it up as proof.

You looked behind him and could see 3 mini whisky bottles that were now empty, lined up on the coffee table. On the left you could see two large double doors that were shut behind the sofa. You had assumed that’s where Beth was sleeping as there was no sign of her anywhere else.

“Oh… Well thank you for bringing it here, you didn’t have to go out of your way...”

“It’s okay I was dropping Emily and the others off anyway,” you replied whilst handing him the phone.

As he took the phone from you he moved slightly to the side, almost inviting you in before actually saying it.

“Would you like to come in?” he paused for a moment, “…please come in” he pleaded. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you the whole night I just didn’t want to disturb you. Beth’s asleep so you don’t have to worry about her or we could take a walk somewhere,” he went on; desperation clear in his voice.

Instead of replying you walked past him making your way into his room, a completely different side of you taking over.

You made your away towards the sofa, never sitting down just standing in front of it. You turned to face Hotch who closed the door and walked towards you, stopping just a few inches away. You could tell he had been drinking. You had obviously seen him drink at the wedding but he left several hours ago yet here he was emptying the mini fridge in his hotel suite.

You eyed the bottles on the coffee table.

“Rough night?’ You asked but it sounded more like a statement. When you looked back at him his mouth was slightly open, almost as if he was thinking of what to say but no words were coming out.

You tilted your head to the side as you took in his features. He looked different. Good but different. After all these years had passed, you never knew when you would be able to get a good look at him again, and god how much you’d missed his handsome face. The last memory you had of it was when you collapsed in his arms after being shot during your first dance as Mr and Mrs. You don’t remember much after that, just faint shouting in the distance as your vision went blurry until you eventually passed out in his arms.

“I- um I don’t know what to say Y/N… I don’t even know where to begin,” he expressed. Concern, pain and regret all clear in his voice.

Before he could continue you lifted your hand up in an attempt to stop him from saying anything else. That’s not what you came here for.

“I am so sorry,” he breathed out but you took a step closer to him and placed one of your fingers on his lips to silence him.

“Shh,” you whispered whilst you ran your other hand slowly down his chest stopping at the belt of his trousers. You could feel his pulse quicken as he took in what you were doing.

Never breaking eye contact you began to gently move your hand lower until you reached his crotch. You then began to palm him with a bit more force, feeling him harden underneath your touch. A slight smirk played on your lips as you realised how much of an affect you still had on him, how much his body still responded to you. You believed that you were the only one that could get him this flustered, to get him to cheat on his girlfriend, to get him this hot and bothered over practically nothing.

“Take off your trousers...” you hissed.

The concern and regret was now replaced with confusion and curiosity but he did as he was told and began to undo his belt. You watched him carefully as he dropped his trousers to the floor stopping at his boxers.

“You can leave those on, this won’t take long,” you instructed coldly and pushed him onto the sofa. As he sat down he reached over to switch a small table lamp off, leaving a soft glow on your silhouette that was coming from a floor lamp on the other side of the room.

You lifted your dress and rolled it up stopping at your waist whilst you straddled Hotch. The familiar feeling of his dick beneath you was enough to send you over the edge.

You lifted yourself up slightly using your knees and grabbed him through his boxers, silently thanking him for wearing a pair with the slit. He watched your every move and took in a sharp breath when your hand made contact with him and took another when you gently lowered yourself onto his dick.

You began rocking your hips, savouring every single second. You started to pick the pace up and you felt Hotch move in to kiss you to which you gently pushed his head back with your hand, not wanting any other intimacy other than the feeling of him inside you and maybe you inside of him.

You took two of your fingers and placed them on his lips again, this time using them to part his mouth. You gently slipped them inside and he welcomed it. You decided to push them in deeper. Not deep enough to hurt him but deep enough to your liking. Your fingers felt cold against his tongue.

At that point you knew you were close and so was he, your fingers in his mouth helped him to stifle his moans, whilst you watched him intently. After a few moments you felt him twitch beneath you as he threw his head back when he came and you shortly followed.

You removed your fingers from his mouth and gently stood up lowering your dress back down giving the man you still loved one last look before turning around to leave. Just before you got the door you stopped and turned around, he was now up grabbing his trousers off the floor.

“You left me… I was in a coma Hotch and when I came out of it you weren’t there. You left me Aaron.”

Without giving him a second to respond you left and closed the door behind you.

As you stepped into the elevator a thousand thoughts were racing in your head. You began to question yourself on why you had come here in the first place, but you knew exactly why. You wanted to see if you still had that control over him, you wanted to see if you could still have him, if he still belonged to you. And he did. You thought about how your relationship had evolved from being just co-workers to friends from friends to lovers and from lovers to strangers. That’s what it felt like being in that room with him. Just two strangers having sex. That was probably the first time the two of you had sex instead of making love. There was a difference between the two and you knew which one you preferred.

Deep down you knew why he had to leave and most importantly leave without you, but it still didn’t make it any less painful. You had thought back to what Lucas said earlier when you were outside, that Henry might’ve had something to do with it... But the truth is whether he did or didn’t it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. He needed to leave, to hide and go into witness protection. Not only for his and Jacks safety but for yours too. It all made sense. Peter Lewis couldn’t hold you over him anymore if you had no connection to him so he left. He left without you and then had you served with divorce papers.

The elevator doors opened and snapped you back to reality. You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of the thoughts. You didn’t want to go back there, you had tried your hardest to move past that part of your life and dwelling about the details and the what if’s is something you didn’t want to do anymore. You had wasted enough time doing that and you’ve moved on since then and so has Hotch. But sometimes late at night when you can’t sleep, those thoughts creep back in and they have a way of suffocating you.

“Did you manage to return your friends phone?” The lady behind the reception desk asked with a smile.

“Yes I did, thank you so much for your help again!” You replied and returned the smile.

You made your way to the parking lot and got into your car and made your way home… To your husband…. Who you had just cheated on with your ex-husband. You pulled out of the parking lot and let the memories from earlier fill your mind. You had glanced briefly at your watch and the time told you that is was quarter past three. You groaned at the thought of having to be up before 11 am later that day for a brunch that Henry and Luca had organised with a smaller amount of guests, which included the BAU team.

You had wondered if he’ll be there with Beth or if he won’t show.

To be continued....

Part 2

#ycriminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x y/n #bau x reader

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

Note

I’m obsessed with Levi, absolutely smitten. Thank you for sharing him with us.

If you feel up to it could we get a snippet of someone maybe a rival vampire trying to plant doubts in Levi about the reader. Maybe accusing them of cheating on him and using him, only for Levi to laugh in their face because he knows how devoted and loyal they are to each other.

Just like the opposite of the miscommunication trope. Please and thank you🥺👉👈

I'm so happy you like Levi ^_^ This is just a little thing, but I thought it turned out cute and it's nice to do something lighter after the last one omg :D

Vampire (Levi) x female mom reader

Word Count: 1k

W: sfw vampire fluff

“Ugh,” Levi’s cousin Ivan and leader of his clan in Russia grimaced looking down at Meryl over his glass of blood, “don’t you have a nanny?”

Levi nudged him away from the baby sleeping peacefully in the crib he’d put in his office so she could be nearby. He’d wanted to give you a spa day and he knew you weren’t yet comfortable with the nanny, so he happily offered to keep his favorite cinnamon roll with him.

He also wanted you out of the house when his cousin arrived. He didn’t like males seeing you and he knew how frivolous vampire’s could be. Their lives were long and got boring, rare jewels intrigued them, if only for a time. He’d sent you surrounded by a handful of Amazonian vampire bodyguards, so he felt confident no one would bother you.

“(Y/N) and I have decided to keep her caretakers to a minimum,” he said, “she’s already been exposed to so many different germs and people, there’s no reason to add anymore.”

Ivan snorted.

“So she’s got you babysitting her brat?! Cousin, are you a fool?”

Of course in his time, the idea of a vampire Clan lord carrying around an infant was preposterous, let alone one that was not his son, specifically. Many vampire mothers immediately gave their children to wet nurses so they wouldn’t look weak carrying a drooling baby around.

Levi growled at his cousin, prompting him to lower his voice so as not to wake the baby.

Ivan hissed lightly back, his eyes flashing. Vampire lords didn’t like being told what to do.

“Who is this trollop anyway?” he snapped, though a bit quieter, “I’ve never seen you so wrapped around anyone’s finger.”

Levi looked a little wistful.

“Just an angel I came across in a fish store,” he murmured, his eyes resting fondly on Meryl.

Ivan raised an eyebrow.

“Fish…store…? And you’ve taken in her bastard? You’re babysitting it? Levi, I know losing Karen must have been hard but-”

Levi’s face hardened and his voice boomed.

“Don’t say her name in my presence!” he snarled.

Meryl cooed that she was waking up and started to whimper realizing she was alone. Levi looked distraught and hurried over to her, picking her up and bouncing her in his arm.

“I’m sorry baby bat, did I wake you?” he cooed, and she gave him a gummy smile, doing her “daddy is picking me up” dance in his hand.

Something about the happiness on Levi’s face when he looked at Meryl and how innocently she completely trusted him incensed Ivan.

“This is absurd Levi. No one can be this happy! How do you know she doesn’t have some lover on the side and she’s just using you? Tugging a vampire lord on a leash?! She’s probably making another one of those things right now! Aren’t you concerned with how this makes the family look?!”

Levi tipped Meryl’s head to his chest so she couldn’t see before he bared his fangs, transforming his face into a more animal version of itself as a warning.

“Now you sound absurd, cousin,” he ground out, more offended that he’d say such a thing in front of his darling baby than taking it seriously, “(Y/N) is a devoted mother and wife. I won't listen to you slandering her in front of our child.”

Ivan snorted and crossed his leg with annoyance, spinning his blood around.

“Goddess, modern romance is so disgusting,” he retorted, turning his face away from the tooth achingly sweet sight of Levi tossing Meryl in the air to make her giggle, “If it were me, I’d never see the thing.”

“That’s why you’re a cold, lonely bastard,” Levi chuckled, “and I have a warm, beautiful family.”

Ivan rolled his eyes.

“Until she backstabs you like your mother,” he snapped.

Levi growled more loudly.

“I told you not to mention her,” he snapped, flipping Meryl over his shoulder by one foot so she wouldn’t see his anger and making her laugh out loud.

“Ugggggh,” Ivan let out the longest groan ever at her pure joy as Levi pulled her back to his chest and found her one of the toys strewn on his desk to play with.

“I’m back my loves!” you sighed as you walked into Levi’s office and breezed past the vampire sitting in one of Levi’s overstuffed chairs. You tossed your purse lazily on his desk, then tipped up on your toes and gave Levi a kiss, then smooched Meryl.

“Feel my face,” you beamed, taking his hand and putting it on your freshly worked over skin, “they did some kind of laser thing to it! It’s super soft!”

He grinned down at you, taking the opportunity to circle your cheek with his fingers. Maybe it was softer than normal, it always felt soft to him, but he was happy you wanted him to touch you. You'd been seeking out his touch more and more, each time delighting him more than the last.

A bit of a tug in the back of your mind reminded you the other vampire was still there and you glanced over your shoulder at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” you asked, looking him over. He looked a bit like Levi, as well, but with wheat blonde hair cropped short and bright blue eyes.

“Uh…this is my cousin, Ivan,” Levi said with as little enthusiasm as possible, “he’s in town for the wedding.”

He was eager to see you since you’d been gone all morning, but he still didn’t like males looking at you, disappointed your spa treatment ended early. For Ivan’s part his mouth dropped and his eyes grew big. He hopped up from the chair and crossed the room, looming over you.

He took your hand and gave it a kiss, smiling down at you with the eyes of a predator behind baby blue irises almost flashing green with envy.

“Levi told me many things about you and I thought he was exaggerating, but he wasn’t lying when he said you are truly lovely. Now I think I understand his fascination. I look forward to seeing more of you, my dear,” Ivan purred, “Levi loves to throw parties so I’m sure there will be plenty of occasions for us to get more acquainted.”

You blinked up at him and extracted your hand from his.

“Er...good to meet you,” you said, wondering if it was a generational gap thing that made him sound so weird to you. Many of Levi's vampires had odd dialects hinting to their time of origin.

Levi bared his teeth and handed Meryl to you, practically shoving his cousin from the room.

“I’ll see you later, cousin!” he growled, slamming the door behind him.

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster lover #sfw monster fluff #monster oc #vampire x reader #angst #yandere fluff #male yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #vampire boyfriend #vampire #monster x reader

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. ii

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chapter summary: Joel tries, and fails, to keep Sarah away from you, and you get to know the family across the street a little bit better. It’s a slow burn, so let the yearning begin, baby! pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 7.7k chapter warnings: some light angst, alcohol use, references to marijuana use, parental neglect. divorce mention, implied age gap. reader has daddy issues - shocker! a/n: Was absolutely floored by the love on part one. Seriously you all are the best. I hate doing chapter summaries because I don't like giving away too much info, so I'd suggest just reading this. This story might end up being a longer than six parts, because I don't want to rush anything and it's been really fun to write these relationships as they form! Let me know what you think :)

-March 25th, 2003-

Joel cannot keep Sarah away from you.

Unfortunately, he can’t blame her. Unlike him, she doesn’t need an excuse to show up on your doorstep after school and on the weekends to be in your company. Still, he doesn’t technically know you that well, and he imagines you didn’t intend to see her as often as you did after extending some kindness to his family for one night.

Despite the two of you having not spoken since you helped him with the Tommy situation, Joel feels like he knows you, or is getting to know you, just from the snippets of information Sarah drops to him, which is then followed by a barrage of questions.

“Do you know she grew up in New York City? Have you ever been there?”

“She gave me her old tennis racket. Do you think I could start taking lessons?”

“She says her brother got her front-row tickets to The Strokes last year. You like them, don’t you?”

Joel decides to give Sarah a talking to about her tendency to wander over to your house whenever she sees your car in the driveway. Perhaps you are just being friendly, and feel bad saying no each time she’s asked to come in. He tries to broach the subject with her one morning in the kitchen while she’s eating breakfast. They’re already running behind, her for school, himself for work, but neither of them are in a rush. If you’re already late, what’s an extra ten minutes?

“Take it easy, alright? She might not want company after a long day at work,” Joel leans over the countertop, hand wrapped around a mug of hot coffee, watching her shovel cereal in her mouth.

“Dad, she said I could come over whenever,” It’s accompanied by an eye roll, which is a new thing that had started about six months back. Teenagers. Well, almost teenagers. She’s still the sweet kid he’s always known, he’s just playing with fire trying to talk to her at seven in the morning, an indent on the side of her face still fading from where she slept on a crumpled pillow.

Joel was at least grateful that she did have occasional company on nights when he was working late. It made him feel better to know Sarah wasn’t alone.

“What do you even do over there?”

“Homework, reading….watching TV.”

“So the same thing you do here?”

Sarah thinks about it. “Well, no, because she’s teaching me to knit.”

“And what does she do while you do your homework?”

“She works too. Or makes calls.” Sarah smiles a little. “It sounds like people ask her for advice a lot. She does give good advice.”

“Better than mine?” Joel holds his hand over his heart with mock offense.

Sarah groans. “Relax, don’t get jealous…there’s just stuff I can talk to her about and not you. Girl stuff.”

“Girl stuff? What like, boys?”

“No, you wouldn’t get it.”

“I was a boy once.”

“Ew, dad, gross.”

“How is that gross?”

“Just- not everything is about boys, okay?”

Joel isn’t going to argue with that, and Sarah eventually goes back to finishing her cereal.

“Alright babygirl,” he raps his knuckles on the counter after he’s finished his coffee. “I’ve gotta load up the truck, and you better get going, or I’m gonna get an earful from Miss Davis.” He grabs his keys and his wallet, then yanks a baseball cap over his mess of hair that’s long overdue for a haircut.

“Oh, I bet she would love an excuse to talk to you,” Sarah slides out of her seat with her empty bowl and marches towards the sink to rinse it out, grabbing his empty mug on the way.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you remember how giggly she was at parent-teacher conferences?” Sarah says. “I’ve never seen her so happy before.”

It’s Joel’s turn to roll his eyes. He’d pegged it as unusual, but never considered it was because Miss Davis was into him. He wishes Sarah isn’t so….observant.

Over the years, Joel has basically kept his head down, doing his best to keep things together. Because of that, he feels like he’s sort of lost his ability to pick up on when women are interested in him. And it’s safe to say, in general, he’s had a pretty uneventful love life since Sarah’s mom left.

For the most part, he got by on flings — one night stands, casual no-strings-attached arrangements that always fizzled out. Joel had never been a man who liked that sort of thing, and ultimately craved a deeper level of intimacy, companionship, but he had trouble sustaining anything more. And even when he thinks of the more serious relationships he’d had over the years, those were also never completely satisfying.

The fact of the matter was that when you had a kid, you weren’t just looking for someone for yourself anymore. For most people, introducing their partner to their parents is always a big deal. But for Joel, it was always introducing girlfriends to Sarah. Over the last decade he’d only ever introduced her to three different women, and at that point he had usually been dating them secretly for several months before deciding that it was serious enough. It always felt like he was trying so desperately to ensure they liked each other. But he could tell that Sarah was never quite comfortable with any of them. And when they’d start asking about moving in, marriage, and babies — he’d always panic. It was reasonable for them to want those things, hell, he wanted those things. But it had to be the right person. He knew he couldn’t bring someone into his life, forever, that didn’t love Sarah like a parent should. Like he did. No one ever would, and because of that, he knows there’s a good chance it’ll just be the two of them forever.

So, even if Sarah’s teacher, as cute as she was, were to ask him out, he would never be able to go. But less for the latter reasons, and more because he knows he’d never hear the end of it from her.

“Alright, that’s enough. I’m leaving in five minutes…with or without you.”

“Nooo!” Sarah screams in mock panic, scrambling upstairs to brush her teeth.

Joel exits through the garage, grabbing a few extra tools from his workbench that he needs for the job today and a saw.

When he opens the garage door, the harsh sunlight is the first thing to greet him, and then he sees you.

You’re in your driveway across the street, barefoot and in a short, black silk robe that’s cinched at the smallest part of your waist. Next to you is a man in a suit, holding a briefcase and trying to straighten his tie. He can’t do both at the same time, though, so he pauses and turns to you, murmurs something, and you slow to help him, your fingers wrapping around the tie, tightening where it’s looped around his neck and tucking it into place, straightening his lapel before stepping away. The type of domesticity that doesn’t happen with a one-night-stand.

It makes sense, he thinks. That you’re with someone like that. It’s the world you’re in all day. And even though he’s standing in his own fucking driveway, Joel feels like he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to. Or maybe, he just doesn’t want to be seeing it.

Joel tears his eyes away, putting his stuff in the back of the truck – the toolkit, the saw, glancing over to see the man kiss you on the lips and mutter something unintelligible before getting in a shiny, blue sports car. You nod, offer an easy smile, and stoop to pick up the newspaper. The car's engine roars to life, and you cross your arms, looking after it until it peels out of the cul-de-sac.

The bashful smile you’re wearing drops instantly once it’s out of sight, and he watches you pinch the bridge of your nose, and tilt your head back to the sky.

He turns before he gets caught, and slams the back of the truck shut, which is a little ignorant in hindsight. Joel looks over his shoulder to see your attention has shifted, and you’re shielding your eyes and squinting at him.

Great.

“Hey Joel,” you wave, your opposite hand pulling at the bottom of your robe, in a futile attempt to cover yourself. You look good, obviously, but it makes Joel feel a little guilty to make the observation because it’s clear you didn’t actually intend to be seen like this.

“Morning,” he answers.

“Where’ve you been?” you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Busy. Work.”

“That’s no fun but…same here, I guess,” You shuffle forward hesitantly.

Joel takes a beat to think about what he’s supposed to say in response, but doesn’t get the chance, because you speak up again.

“Hey uh, not to put you on the spot, but were you actually serious about fixing my step the other night?” you ask.

Before he can answer, you continue.

“It’s okay if you weren’t, but I twisted my ankle on it the other day, so I need to get it fixed before that happens to someone else. I was thinking maybe I’d just call-”

“No-”

“It’s no big deal if you can’t-”

“No,” Joel cuts you off. He had been biding his time, waiting for the right opportunity to bring it up to you, not realizing that taking said time probably made him look like an asshole. “Don’t call anyone else, I can do it. How about Friday night? Will you be around?”

“Friday?” you answer, pondering. “Yeah, that works. I have a friend from out of town coming to visit, so I’ll be home early because I’ve gotta pick her up from the airport.”

“Alright, I’ll try to cut out early, too.”

“And also I can pay-”

“Stop it, I”ve got you, don’t worry,” he waves his hand.

You smile at Joel. He’s sure it means nothing, but he gets some satisfaction from how sincere it is compared to the one you’d given the guy you had been escorting out of your home.

He feels himself grinning back, and you open your mouth to speak, but are cut off by the sound of his screen door slamming. Sarah stumbles down the steps, backpack hanging off one shoulder, headphones to her walkman around her ears, holding her bright pink windbreaker in one hand and a book in the other. She looks at Joel, then you, standing in your driveway, and her face lights up as she calls your name.

“Hey, Sarah,” you wave.

Sarah opens her mouth to speak, and Joel knows whatever she’s going to say will start a much longer conversation that unfortunately they just don’t have the time for.

“She’s gotta get to school,” Joel tilts his head in the direction of his daughter before she can say anything. “But I’ll get that done Friday.”

“See you then!” You turn on your heel, and he looks away for a second to Sarah before glancing back in your direction, and you’re already gone, the only evidence you were there being your front door slamming shut.

Joel waits until he and Sarah are in the car on their way to school before he speaks again.

“She’s never mentioned a boyfriend or anything, has she?”

Sarah doesn’t even look up from her book. “No.”

Joel nods, and it’s quiet for a moment.

He hears Sarah’s book shut. “Why?” she turns to him, and she’s got her eyes narrowed, like she’s trying to figure out what the question really meant. He’s never seen her make that face before, and it’s a little terrifying, because it looks like she could see right through him.

Joel wracks his brain for a good enough excuse. “If she has people over, I don’t want you hangin’ around adults I don’t know.”

That seems to satisfy Sarah, and the skeptical look on her face disappears. If anything, she seems slightly annoyed by the comment, which is definitely preferable. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that because it’s never happened.” Sarah plays with the dials on the radio, changing the station until it lands on one playing The Chicks, her favorite group. She hums along to the song, filling in the gaps whenever the radio cuts out, and looks out the window.

“Alright.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-March 28th, 2003-

“Oh, I wanna come!” Sarah jumps up from the couch and joins Joel in the entryway. It’s Friday evening, and he’s about to head out the door to your place.

“You’re stayin’ in tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“Well first of all, you’re grounded, in case you don’t remember.”

“You don’t even know what that means, though.”

Joel shakes his head, because she’s right. He’s never had to ground Sarah before, but when he’d gotten a call from her teacher that she had failed her last math quiz, and was close to not passing the class, he figured it was an appropriate punishment. “I’m pretty sure it means you can’t leave the house.”

“But this is barely leaving the h-”

“Second of all,” he cuts her off. “She told me earlier this week she’s got a friend visiting, so it’d be rude to intrude if that’s the case.”

Sarah groans, throws her head back, and falls onto the couch dramatically. “But I’m so bored.”

“You could study. Practice dribbling, clean your room, clean your bathroom-”

“Dad, it’s literally Friday night.”

“And?”

“All that stuff is so boring.”

Joel can’t help but chuckle. “Look, when I get back we can watch a movie. This won’t take long.”

She sits up a little, placated. “Okay, but it’s my turn to pick.”

“Deal. I’ll be home in an hour or so,” he steps out onto the porch.

There’s a special kind of glow in Texas about an hour before the sun sets. Warm light filters behind the trees, casting the leaves and anything else it catches in a golden halo. Joel takes in the view for a moment as he walks across the street, skipping the rotten step and knocking on your front door.

You answer it quickly. “Hey, you wanna come in?”

Joel supposes he doesn’t have to, and could just let you know he’s here, stay out on the front porch and just get the job done, but he accepts your invitation anyway.

There’s another woman sitting cross-legged on the couch, two half-full glasses of wine on your coffee table, music playing low on some speakers in the corner. The front windows are open, despite the chill of the evening, and your sheer curtains billow in the breeze.

“Claire, this is my neighbor, Joel,” you say. “He’s helping me out with the steps. His daughter’s Sarah, the one I was telling you about. ”

“Oh, yeah.” Claire’s face lights up in recognition. “Joel. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods.

“Claire’s visiting from New York. We grew up together,” you explain.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Her and I were roommates at boarding school,” Claire explains, finishing off a glass of wine. “We got into a lot of trouble together.”

“Hmmm, if I recall, it was more like you got me into trouble, but sure,” you say.

“You were bad, if not worse, than I was.”

Joel smirks, and you turn to him, changing the subject. “She’s jetlagged, so we’re just staying in for the night.”

“But…we’re still getting drunk, obviously.”

“Oh yeah, that too,” you say flatly, although to Joel, you don’t seem drunk at all. Luckily, your friend answers his question with her next sentence.

“This one isn’t very good at keeping up, though,” Claire tilts her head in your direction, then finishes off the glass of wine in her hand.

“You sound like Vincent,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, how is Vincent?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you cross your arms and look at Joel. “She always had the biggest crush on my brother, and it was dis-gus-ting.”

“To be fair,” Claire clears her throat. “At the time, he was pretty dreamy. And if we’re being honest….he still is…too bad he’s married.”

“Divorced, actually. But still…” You wrinkle your nose. “Gross.”

“Divorced?” Claire sits up, jaw dropping. “When? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?”

You raise your hands and shake your head, like it’s too much to get into. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later. Sorry, we’re being rude,” you turn back to Joel. “Can I get you anything? Want some wine?”

“I would, but it doesn’t usually mix well with power tools,” Joel answers. “I should be good, though, I brought everything I need.”

“Great well… I’ll let you get to it, then.” you pad across the floor to return to your friend on the couch. “We’ll be in here if you need anything.”

“Sounds good,” Joel nods at you and your friend before stepping back out onto the porch.

The screen door shuts behind him, and the birds are quieting down for the night. He only has a little bit of sunlight left, but this shouldn’t take him long. Just as he is about to get started, he hears your friend’s voice, muffled, from inside the house.

“Okay, I thought you were lying because your taste in men is usually questionable, but you’re right, he is really cute.”

“Dude,” you interject, and Joel hears a sound of impact, like a smack on the arm. “Lower your voice the fucking windows are open.” Claire starts giggling, and you continue. “You know you don’t have to say, like, every thought that comes into your head.”

He hears your friend laugh even harder, and eventually you join her. Joel shakes his head, but even after he starts working, can’t keep the grin off his face.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 5th, 2003-

It has been the longest week of your life. Work had been hectic – you’d spent the last five days going to so many meetings and dinners with potential clients that you had almost no time to do your actual job. Plus, your visit from Claire had already wiped out nearly all your energy, since you had spent the whole last weekend showing her around Austin, entertaining.

Normally, on a Saturday like today, you’d do a number of things – the first of which would be to sleep the fuck in. The ideal schedule would go something like this: You’d get out of bed in the early afternoon and immediately order some kind of takeout – most likely pho, or ramen, or some other type of soup. You’d get high, eat the takeout, and then watch TV until you’re tired enough to go back to bed in the early evening. If you’re feeling motivated at all, you might change into a fresh pair of pajamas before you crash again. It would be the ultimate lazy day, and you had desperately wanted it.

However, the past version of yourself had made plans to play tennis in the morning with some friends, and then check out a new breakfast place in the city. Sometimes you hated how optimistic she was about your ability to wake up before 10 a.m. While you weren’t excited to play tennis, you were excited that there was, at some point, going to be food involved.

So you dragged your ass out of bed, rifled through a box of clothing in your garage (one that you still had yet to unpack) to find a tennis skirt and visor, and then got in your car to go play all before 8 a.m. Then, you’d had your ass handed to you by your friends on the court. It was a little humbling to realize that you weren’t very good at tennis anymore. The last time you’d seriously played was when you were still in school, and you’d originally started because your father had wanted you to be involved in an extracurricular activity. According to him at the time, anything involving the arts – music, dance, drama – didn’t count. You had challenged this idea, and it had escalated to become one of the top ten worst fights you’d ever had with him. After that, you had learned that it was better to just do as you were told.

You’d joined the tennis team, and started to pick up on how intrigued your father was by the trophies and ribbons you’d bring home when you did well. He started to ask you questions when he saw them, pat you on the head and say things like ‘that’s my girl’. Regardless of whether or not you liked playing, you had finally found a way to earn his attention. So, you got better. One time, he even came to your school to watch one of your matches. Of course, when you lost that one, it all kind of crumbled. But you still stuck to the sport since that’s what all your friends were doing, even if it didn't get you what you wanted.

On the drive home from your morning out, belly full of breakfast and ready for a nap, thinking of your family brings about a terrifying realization.

You look at your phone. Shit.

April 5th.

Immediately, you dial a number on your cell. You’re aware of the dangers of talking while driving but you know if you don’t make this call, you’ll never hear the end of it. The line only rings twice before it’s picked up.

“Hello?”

“Vincenzo!” you say with your best – but probably horrible – attempt at an Italian accent.

“Well, well, well….if it isn’t the estranged daughter…” the familiar timbre of your brother's voice answers. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You roll your eyes. “Well first of all, fuck off…” We're off to a great start. “...and second of all…Happy Birthday.”

You hear your brother’s chuckle on the other end of the line, a noise that you’d been on the wrong side of – laughing at you, not with you – more than once, but your heart aches a little at the sound of it now. I miss you, you wish you could say, but you keep it to yourself.

“Thanks, I’m surprised you remembered,” he says, lightly.

“I’ve never forgotten.”

“There was that one year-”

“Oh my god, I was like twelve.”

“You were fourteen.”

“Okay, well, sorry…It’s been over ten years and it hasn’t happened since.”

“It feels like you’ve forgotten more than once, but that might just be because it’s pretty much the only time you ever call me these days,” Vincent says, and if you were with him, in person, you’d be able to tell by the look in his eyes whether or not he was joking. But over a cell, you’re not sure at all.

“That’s not true,” you say, turning your car into your neighborhood. “But I mean, the phone does work both ways.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you catch something flippant in his tone.

“Do you want this to be a nice conversation or are you gonna be an asshole?” you ask, maybe a little too matter-of-factly, but at least you can determine whether or not it’ll be a waste of your time to try and be cordial. If he’s in a bad mood, you know it’s pointless.

“Relax,” he says, and you hear a hint of the teenage boy you once knew. “You’re always so ready to argue with me, I’m joking.”

“Very funny,” you say, and try to be nice about it, because deep down, you know Vincent is right. You don’t talk to your brother enough to argue with him when you do speak. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “So what are you doing on your big day? Anything special?”

“Nothing really special, I worked out, had lunch with a friend, and I think I’m having dinner with Elizabeth tonight.”

“Oh…really? Elizabeth?” At the mention of his soon-to-be ex-wife – or maybe current ex-wife? You’re not sure – you’re surprised.

“Yeah she and I are uh….talking still, I guess. For Ethan, mostly, but…I don’t know…the divorce isn’t finalized, and I think now that I’m seeing a therapist and shit, maybe we can work something out. We’ll see.”

“And do you want to work something out?”

“I mean, she’s only the love of my life so yeah, it’d be great.”

“I think so, too. How is Ethan, by the way?”

“Oh he’s great,” you hear your brother’s smile over the phone. “Just a big ball of energy, and so fucking smart. He told me he misses you the other day.”

Your heart lurches at the mention of your sweet, five-year-old nephew. “You’ll have to tell him I said hi, and that I love him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” he answers. “You know, next weekend I’m having a proper birthday party. We’re all going to the Hamptons. I could fly you out here, you could tell him in person.”

“I can’t, I got shit to do,” you answer a little too quickly, turning the car into your cul-de-sac.

“What uh, your little corporate gig keeping you busy?”

There’s a subtle dig in there, little.

“Maybe.”

“I’m telling you, all I have to do is phone a friend, and we’ll find you something here that’ll pay a thousand times better and won’t have you working weekends.”

“I don’t work weekends,” you say, pulling into your driveway. “And I’m not interested.”

“You like making yourself miserable, don’t you?”

“Vinny,” you say, exasperated, putting your car in park. “I’m happy here.”

“In Texas? I don’t believe it,” he says. “And you know, at this point, you’ve proven whatever you wanted to dad. After everything you’ve done, he probably respects you. Like, you did it. You cut yourself off, you made a name for yourself, you don’t need us anymore. Congratulations, amazing. I get it. But you should come home now.”

“Vincent,” you repeat yourself. “I’m not going back. You know what it was like for me. For you.”

“You’re my fucking family too, you know? You can’t just let him control every decision you make,” he says, and he’s not quite yelling at you, but he is sounding a lot more stern than he was before. “And by the way, it wasn’t so bad. You and I always got along.”

“Even if I move back, things will never be like they were.”

“You don’t know that.” he says it with such a deep sadness in his voice that you want to take back every cruel thing you’d ever said to him – not just from today, from forever. And then he speaks again. “You know, you used to be so sweet when we were kids….I don’t know what happened.”

I do, you think. “I had to look out for myself.”

Before he can respond, you change the subject. “Anyways, you should move out here instead,” it’s only halfway a joke.

“I’m not leaving New York.”

“Well, I’m not leaving Austin.”

“Well…” he says, clicks his tongue. “Then I guess things’ll just stay this way.”

“I guess so.”

You wish you could offer more. But he has never understood. The silence on the other line is so loud, your ears are ringing.

“Look, I just pulled in my driveway, I gotta get going.”

“Yeah.”

“But have a nice day, okay?” you’ve gotta turn this conversation around because it went so far off the rails. “Tell Elizabeth I say hi, and I hope you do work things out with her because you know I think she’s great. And give Ethan a kiss for me.”

“I know, and I will,” you can see him closing his eyes, fingers pinching between his eyebrows.

“I love you.”

“Yeah…okay,” he says, like he doesn’t believe you, and it’s a punch to the gut. As usual, you weren’t able to say the right thing. Tears start pricking the back of your eyes, guilt twisting deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Goodbye,” in one swift movement, you end the call and get out of the car, slamming the door shut. You’re sad now, but it’s only a matter of time before you become angry, which is always easier to deal with, so you just gotta suck it up until it passes.

Trying not to be upset is such a high priority that you don’t hear your name being called right away, and when you turn around, it’s too late.

“Hey!” Sarah Miller is skidding to a stop in front of you, wearing boots that look a size too small for her feet, dressed in athletic clothes with her hair pulled back. “My dad says I’m not grounded anymore so I can-” she falters when she sees your face. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Clearing your throat, you fix your expression and try to shake away the lingering disappointment like dirt off a kitchen rug. “Yeah I’m fine,” you lie. “So does that mean you passed math?”

Since that night you let her stay when she was locked out, you’d seen quite a bit of Sarah. It was a little unconventional, and you probably needed to find friends in the community that were more age appropriate, but you enjoyed her company. She would hang out and do homework at your house while she waited for her dad to get home from work. You had always valued your independence, and told yourself you preferred to be on your own, but whenever she left, your house always felt a little emptier than you remembered. Maybe you needed to get a fish or something, since Martini’s appearances were few and far between.

“Not yet, but I did get an A on my last test. I hate to say it but my dad was right…studying actually helps.”

“Yeah, that tends to be true,” you say, relieved at how easy the smile comes, and you glance over your shoulder to see Joel standing at the edge of his driveway with his hands on his hips. He looks fucking good, and you’re almost sort of mad about it, or it’s hopefully just the irritation kicking in after the conversation with your brother.

Does Joel know? He has to. It’s like having whatever the male version of a siren is living across the street from you – working with his hands, being a doting father, and mowing the lawn shirtless when it’s hot out. And apparently this was a record-breakingly hot spring, because you’d seen that more than once. Not that you minded, though it only made you want a closer look. Years ago, you probably would’ve scoffed at what sounded like a suburban mom’s wet dream, but actually experiencing it, you felt differently. There was just something about him.

You give Joel a wave, and he waves back, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he’s trying to decide if he wants to come over and talk. As usual, he seems like he’s got somewhere to be, but he’s too polite to tell you to fuck off.

“How have you been? I’ve hardly seen you,” Sarah says. “Did you play tennis today?” she pokes at the racket that’s hung over your shoulder. “Were you serious about teachin’ me to play this summer?”

It’s hard not to be amused at the barrage of requests. You admire her ability to be so enthusiastic, so open, something that most people are unable to do, but for her, is effortless. She’s older than your nephew, but you get the same kind of relief from interacting with both of them. The kids are alright. At least, some of them are.

“Of course,” you answer, and notice that Joel is slowly and hesitantly making his way up your driveway. It’s upsetting that everytime you run into him, you conveniently look like shit – like last Tuesday when you’d just rolled out of bed and were still in your robe. Or right now, after spending the whole morning chasing after balls on a clay court, scuffed knees and hair slick with sweat. But you suppose that’s sort of what neighbors are for.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask Joel.

“It’s goin’,” you take him in as he gets closer, notice the way the arms of his t-shirt are just a little too tight because of his biceps, and feel like you need to take a cold shower to wash yourself of this morning. “Babygirl, we should probably get going.”

He calls his daughter babygirl? There’s no way he was being serious, that it isn’t some ironic joke, or part of an act. You always assumed that was just something you saw in movies.

“Because I did so well on my test my dad is takin’ me on a hike,” Sarah says, and then her face lights up. “Wait….you should come with us! Dad, can she come?” Sarah whirls around to face her father.

Joel looks down at Sarah, and then up at you, and then at Sarah again. “I mean, that’s fine, but…she might have other things going on.”

It’s hard to tell if he’s trying to give you an out, or if he’s hinting that you shouldn’t come. And you probably normally wouldn’t want to go, but the alternative is moping around your house and thinking of all the things you could’ve said differently to your brother to ensure the conversation would have gone better than it did. You’re always desperate for a second chance to do things over, and do them right.

You look between the two of them, back and forth. “I mean I would totally, I just…don’t want to interrupt a father-daughter activity-”

“You aren’t,” Sarah says so quickly that Joel looks offended. “I couldn’t leave the house this week so we’ve been spending too much time together.”

Joel frowns. “That’s rude.”

“What?” she says. “It’s true.”

Joel sighs. “She’s right, though. You wouldn’t be interruptin’.”

“Please?” Sarah begs, and you realize you can’t say no even if you want to. You wonder how Joel was even able to ground her for a week, looking in those big, innocent eyes.

“Yeah, just…uh, could I put my stuff inside and maybe change?” you ask, gesturing towards the house.

Joel nods, and Sarah rocks back and forth on her heels. “Yes, yes! Take as long as you need.”

“I’ll be fast,” you assure her, and duck inside.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halfway into the hike with Sarah and Joel, and you’ve decided you’re out of shape. You try to tell yourself there could be another reason you are so out of breath – you already worked out once today while playing tennis. But that doesn’t seem like a good enough excuse. Of course, you’re trying to play it cool, because you’re not about to embarrass yourself. Sarah is entertaining you with all kinds of talk about school, and soccer, and sleepaway camp she gets to go to for two weeks once school's out. And you suppose the pain you’re in right now is also welcome distraction from thinking about Vincent.

However, you can’t dip away from the group to rest for a second, because Joel is already trailing behind, and he’d catch on. However, his distance – several paces back from where you and Sarah walk – is not because he’s out of shape. On the contrary, he seems to be putting almost no effort into the steep climb. He’s on his own, head on a swivel, kind of like a brooding security guard, and you wonder if he feels left out.

You steal a glance over your shoulder to take him in, shrouded by the verdant foliage. He looks at home in this environment, sun-kissed and rugged, a finger hooked behind the strap of a leather bag he carries over one shoulder, his gait measured. Aloof, but there’s a quiet confidence to him that draws you in, causes your stare to linger just a touch too long, so when he turns his head straight, his eyes catch yours. You focus back on the trail ahead.

He hasn’t said much since you’ve started hiking, or in the car, even. Most men are easy to read, but so far, Joel has kind of stumped you. There were times, during the night that you’d helped him bail his brother Tommy out of jail, that you had thought maybe he was- no. He’d been pretty tense in every other interaction you had, so you still couldn’t decide if he had been flirting with you.

And he was older than you, you were pretty sure. Not so old that it wouldn’t be out of the question for him to be interested, but enough that, depending on the type of person he was, might see you as a little too young for him. And he had a kid, responsibilities.

You were a-single woman with a high-powered career, one cat and a fish on the way. You slept in on the weekends, refused to learn to cook for one, and got violently stoned on your back porch a minimum of three times a week. In suburban Texas, most of the women your age were long since settled, and you were an outlier. It was fair to imagine that Joel probably didn’t see any real promising future when he looked your way…. or maybe he was more of a one-night stand kind of guy, and didn’t care about that at all. This was not necessarily information you needed – but you wanted it anyway.

Not feeling like an outsider would be one upside of moving back to New York – you could be exactly yourself, and still blend right in. It was one of the parts you missed most, besides Vincent. Your heart sinks, and you realize that the hill you’ve been climbing has flattened out, and so you’re able to think clearly again, which is why you’re thinking of your brother.

Sarah has pulled away, and is wandering towards a clearing. Your eyes are on her form, bounding up ahead on the pathway, the sunlight peeking through the leaves dancing on her skin, when your foot lands on a loose rock, and slips out from beneath you.

Please, God, n- You don’t even get the chance to plead yourself out of humiliation, because there’s a steady hand on your hip and your back collides with a broad chest.

“Gotcha,” Joel’s voice is right in your ear — when did he get that close?

He’s solid, strong, and for the shortest, sweetest moment, you’re overwhelmed by him – get notes of his bar soap (pine, cedar, mint) mixed with whatever laundry detergent he used, and just the faintest bit of - Fuck. In one swift movement, he brings you upright like you’d never slipped at all, then pulls back. The skin on your hip smarts even after his hand drops away.

“You alright?” Joel steps beside you, watching Sarah, who stands with her hands on her hips, her back turned to you both.

“Yeah,” you nod. He looks back over at you. “Come on,’ he tilts his head towards his daughter, and you walk beside him to where she’s standing.

The whole hike you’d been so occupied with bullshit. Trying not to think about your brother. Trying not to act too out of breath. Trying to not let Joel catch you staring, although you’d already failed at that. But now, you wish you wouldn’t have been in your head, because what you’d come to see made worrying about all that seem stupid.

Stretched out in front of you was a wide creek with moss-colored water that flowed down over layered slabs of rock, and crashed into the waterfall’s churning basin. The sun hits the mist in just the right light, and casts a series of rainbows midair, which move and shift as you turn your head to study the lush, tree-lined shore across the river.

You’re standing with one hand on your hip, and out of the corner of your eye Sarah shuffles back a few steps to stand beside you, looping her arm through yours, her cheek on your shoulder while you both enjoy the view.

“I’m glad you got to see this,” she says, and you can just make it out over the sound of the falls. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s beautiful.”

Joel’s hands land on Sarah’s shoulders as he steps close behind you both. She straightens, leans back against him until he wraps his forearm across the front of her in an easy embrace, and she grabs for his wrist with both of her hands, tucking them beneath her chin. A pang of familiar grief stirs inside you at the sight, and you turn away, back towards the view.

“This is the only time of year it’s worth seeing,'' Joel says to you. “It dries up in the summer.”

“It’s still pretty in the summer,” Sarah pipes up.

“Not as pretty.”

“Can you get me the water?” she asks. Joel grunts an affirmation and a moment later you hear the sound of a zipper.

When you’ve had a considerable amount of time to contemplate life while looking at the water swirling across the granite, you turn to find Sarah sitting on a rock, struggling to peel an orange, and dropping each tiny piece of skin she can get off into Joel’s begrudgingly outstretched hand.

You use the opportunity to stretch your calves against a nearby tree.

“Have you hiked before?” Sarah asks.

“Here and there,” you say. “But not often.”

“Why not?”

“Well this is basically a workout. I don’t like working out, I’m pretty unathletic.”

You’re surprised when that draws a smile from Joel.

“But you play tennis.”

You shrug. “Eh, kinda.”

“Me and my dad go hiking a lot.”

“That’s sweet,” your eyes flicker from hers to Joel’s, because they are both staring at you, and you’re pretty sure, though it’s hard to tell from this distance, that their eyes are the identical shade of caramel. Sarah finishes peeling her orange and Joel pockets the scraps of skin. She eats a slice before offering you both your own, and you step closer to accept it.

Sarah’s taking her last bite of orange when Joel speaks up.

“Should we head back?”

Sarah turns to take one last look. It’s mid afternoon, the slant of light from the sun as intense as it can be, and you squint when it reflects back off the water and into your eyes.

“Yeah, we can,” Sarah decides, and it’s clear that Joel would have stayed there for as long as she wanted. It wasn’t up to him.

The hike back isn’t nearly as difficult. It’s all downhill, and Joel leads. Sarah stays behind with you, and clings to your arm while she teaches you how to navigate the trail without slipping. Back at the trailhead is one steep step that drops off into a puddle of stagnant water.

Joel jumps down first, and turns to offer his hand to Sarah, who takes it and leaps lightly, landing on two feet on the other side. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting, but it’s not for Joel to offer you his hand to you as well. But he does.

“Careful,” he murmurs. And of course, you could’ve easily done this yourself, with no help. It’s a two foot drop and an inch of water. But you accept it anyways, putting some of your weight against his hand as you hop down, noticing how he doesn’t waver.

By the time you’re long since settled in the car, pulling into Joel’s driveway, you can feel sleep tugging down your eyelids. A steaming shower and a pair of pajama pants is imminent, and it’s like your body knows. Surely, you will still probably feel guilty about your brother, but you’re convinced that you won’t lose sleep over it, which you consider a win.

Sarah, who insisted that you both sit in the back together on the way home – leaving Joel in the front alone – gives you a quick hug after you’ve gotten out of the car, and then plucks the car keys from her father.

“Sorry, I drank a lot of water and I have to pee!” she says, before jogging up the walkway and unlocking her front door.

Joel lets out an exasperated sigh, but turns back look at you with startling warmth.

“Thanks for having me, I really needed that,” you tell him, and you’re not sure why you feel compelled to be honest with him, but continue on. “My brother and I got into it on the phone this morning, so if I didn’t go I probably would’ve spent all afternoon moping in bed.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice soft. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” you say, quickly, brushing it off. “Siblings, you know?”

“Yeah,” he nods, but you can tell he isn’t convinced. “I know.”

“How’s Tommy, by the way?” you ask. “Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

“He is,” Joel answers. “We actually have a big project we might be about to book. Pays well, and will keep us employed for the next year.”

“Oh that’s exciting,” you nod. “So what I’m hearing is…if my step rots again, you wouldn’t have time to come fix it?”

“No,” Joel chuckles again, and you’re dizzy after hearing it. “I’d make time.”

You take a deep breath. “Good to know,” you shuffle a few steps backwards. “I better get going, though.” He doesn’t answer right away, and just as you’re turning to walk across the street, Joel calls out to you again.

“Hey,” and you pause, facing him again. “I wanted to ask you if…” he hesitates, blinks and shakes his head once before continuing. “If Sarah is coming over too much. If you want, I can tell her to cool it.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask. “I don’t mind at all. She’s great company, really.”

“You sure you’re not just sayin’ that to be nice?”

You sniff, look at the ground, then back up to him. “I’m not actually very nice.”

He studies you. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

“You hardly know me,” you shrug, and his eyebrows pinch together very briefly before his expression neutralizes. “I’m just saying….if I didn’t like having her around, you would know.”

He bobs his head slowly, and you turn back around to walk to your house, glancing at him from over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you around.”

- - - - - - - - - -

taglist: @yaskna @venomous-ko @lomljigg @yeehawbitchs @ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done @melancholicmelanin @reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer @superflymaterial @mikkorantanev @zbeez-outlet (i'm sorry if i missed anyone, i didn't tag anyone that didn't explicitly ask!).

part iii

#are we surprised that reader has daddy issues? odds are if you are reading this fic about the video game/TV DILF of the century you do too #i mean i certainly do #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x f!reader #joel Miller imagine #Joel Miller series #joel miller the last of us #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #Pedro pascal #TLOU HBO #TLOU fanfic #TLOU series #texas sun

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