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anyroads · 2 years

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OK you know what, if we're gonna talk about Bake Off then fuck it, let's do this.

It used to be this wholesome, lovely show! We used to watch it for the bakers! And the learning! And the light banter and occasional bit of coy innuendo! What happened?

Channel 4 happened. When they bought the show they made a number of changes, most of them Not Good™️. Not just in the sense of them resulting in a lot of 😬 and 🫠 moments, but in the sense of how they changed the show's purpose, atmosphere, and brand.

Look, I know most people are just like, "whatever, it's just a baking show," and yeah, sure. But it's one of the UK's most successful TV exports, and where it once shifted the tone of reality competition to being wholesome and supportive of contestants, it's since moved towards creating tension at the contestants' cost. So aside from the fact that most people watching it signed up to watch a nice show, it has also shifted the goalposts of what that even means. And that, lovelies and gentlefolk, is some bullshit.

I decided to break my rant analysis into four main parts: theme weeks, the hosts, the judges, and the bakers. Let's get to it!

Theme Weeks:

If you watch Bake Off, you know the show's always had a specific theme for each week. The staples that come up in most seasons are:

cake

biscuit

bread

pudding/dessert

pastry

patisserie

Less common but consistent are things like caramel and chocolate week.

Then there are the fun episodes! When GBBO was on the BBC, this started out with things tea week, tarts, pies, tray bakes, basically little tangents still focused on emphasizing specific baking skills. In Series 6 (still on the BBC) they had their first nation-focused theme week with French week -- fairly innocuous given that a lot of patisserie is French, France and England share much more culture than either cares to admit [Norman Flag dot gif], and it was a nice change from watching Paul make the bakers do recipes that involved boiling things while talking about how wonderful boiled doughs are (are they, Paul? Are they?).

The show kept mixing it up with innocuous themes like advanced dough and alternative ingredients weeks, European cakes, Victorian week, batter week, and botanical week. And while it was frustrating to watch Paul Hollywood mispronounce things like the Hungarian Dobos Torta and lecture bakers on babka when he clearly knew nothing about it (or about Jewish baking in general, go off Past Me), the show's general attitude was that the judges had their own opinions, which were separate from the immutable facts around the chemistry of baking (more on this later) and shouldn't affect how bakers are judged.

After the show moved to Channel 4, the number of themed weeks increased and more of them focused on specific countries. In 6 seasons on the BBC, there were only two country-focused theme weeks, and in 5 seasons on Channel 4 there have been five. And while they've also had themes like vegan baking, roaring 20s, the 1980s, spice week, etc. the show has really started to go hard on exoticizing other cultures in outright disrespectful and racist ways. There's been Italian and Danish week, German, Japanese (it wasn't, it was East Asian week), and now Mexican week (which doesn't touch on interspersed Jewish bakes that didn't get a theme week, like versions of bagels and babka set as technical challenges that were borderline hate crimes and mansplained by a guy who has no idea how to make either and once wrote in a cookbook that challah was traditionally eaten during Passover). Each time the hosts played up the theme with racist bits and jokes that can be used as evidence in court if your case is "why should shows with scripted content have a professional writing staff."

Which touches on other issues the show has now...

The Hosts:

When GBBO was on the BBC, the show was hosted by ✨Mel Giedroyc✨ and ✨Sue Perkins✨. They encouraged the bakers! They'd hold stuff for them sometimes! They were interested in them! If a baker had a breakdown, they would start singing copyrighted material to render the footage unusable! When the show moved to Channel 4, they left, though I'm not unconvinced that Channel 4 offered them impossible to accept contracts to force them out so they could rebrand the show. They replaced them with Sandy Toksvig and Noel Fielding. Sandy was a lovely host in the vein of Mel and Sue, and she and Noel had a relatively sweet rapport, but she left a few seasons ago and was replaced by Matt Lucas.

Noel Fielding is mostly known for his quirky brand of comedy, a sort of British Zooey Deschanel who's goth from the neck up, an upperclass British gay divorcee from the neck down, and basically an early 60s Beatle re: trousers. Matt Lucas has almost definitely never watched a single episode of GBBO and his most redeeming quality is his thinly veiled contempt for Paul Hollywood.

The two treat the baking tent as their personal playground. Far from the supportive attitude of Mel and Sue, they tend to get in the bakers' way during the most stressful moments, especially when they try to do hilarious "comedy" bits (I can't not put that in quotes) like Noel's talking wooden spoon thing, or Matt talking over Noel to do time calls. During theme weeks like Japanese and Mexican week, they do culture-specific bits that are both racist ("just Juan joke" and "is Mexico a real place?") and unsurprising, given that both Matt and Noel did blackface on their respective sketch shows and absolutely could and should have known better because it was already the current fucking century.

All this to say, there's now a separation between the bakers and the hosts, as if they're on different shows. The hosts are doing their own thing and the bakers are doing GBBO. The show has gotten meaner to the bakers, and the hosts aren't there to support them anymore, they're just there to be comic relief. Because when you refocus your show on stressing the bakers the fuck out, you need a forced laugh I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The Judges:

First of all, a sincere congratulations to Paul Hollywood who managed to squeeze I jUsT cAmE bAcK fRoM mExIcO aNd YeT sTiLL pRoNoUnCe PiCo De GaLLo As 'PiKa De KaLLa' and I aM aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS wHiCh aRe MaDe WiTh DiGeStiVe BiScUiTs AcCoRdiNg tO mE, aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS, just two in a giant pile of astoundingly wrong hot takes, into a short enough time span that they all aired within Liz Truss's term as Prime Minister. A true man of accomplishments.

In the interest of fairness, I need to preface this with a disclaimer that, due to the fact that I've been watching Bake Off for most of its run, I'm biased. Specifically, I can't stand Paul Hollywood's smarmy, classist, egomaniac ass because he's proven time and again he's more interested in looking smart than actually knowing what he's talking about. Since the show moved to Channel 4, they've changed the occasional handshake Paul would give bakers to the HoLlYwOoD hAnDsHaKe™️. It's gone from being an emphasis of someone's skill to a goal, a reward, and one that emphasizes the judges' place above the bakers.

The judges used to function as teachers, imparting their skills and insights to the bakers. When the show was on the BBC, the voiceover leading to a judging would focus on the bakers' work being finished, saying how it will now be evaluated based on their skill and how well they met the brief. The voiceovers now, on Channel 4, focus on the judging (literally saying something along the lines of, "the bakers will now be judged by Prue and Paul"). There is a clear distinction Channel 4's producers have made, to mark that the show is now about whether or not the judges approve, not whether the brief was understood and executed well. On the BBC, it was irrelevant whether the judges liked a particular flavor, as long as the bake was well-made. Now, the bakers are expected to know the judges tastes and cater to them, which is frankly bullshit. A judge doesn't have to like a flavor to know whether or not it was executed well, ie. is it carrying a bake and was it meant to etc.

The judges have been turned into a brand. Cynically, Channel 4 knows that by building them up and focusing the show more on them, they can exploit their image more for profit. In the process, they've become much more biased and their own biases have come out as well. Most recently in the flaming dumpster fire that was Mexican Week, Paul Hollywood tried to intimidate a baker by telling them he had just gotten back from Mexico (which must have been a fruitful learning trip if he couldn't even learn how to pronounce pico de gallo correctly). Where do I even start with this? Here's an amateur baker from England (the show specifically casts middle and lower middle class bakers for the most part??) who likely can't afford trips to Mexico, who lives in a country with incredibly limited access to Mexican cuisine, who is expected not only to understand the cooking and baking traditions of a completely different culture but to do so well enough to play with it and do something creative with it. On top of which, one of the judges is now using his privilege of traveling halfway around the world as some kind of leverage, as if this were a bar that any amateur British baker could clear.

Prue, meanwhile, has openly asserted her biases against cultural flavors and textures, prioritizing her own personal preferences over them, as if they were in any way relevant to the skills and knowledge necessary to execute the tasks she sets to the bakers. She has also been consistently elitist, criticizing bakers for choices they made that were clearly informed by their experiences within income brackets that are too low and foreign for Prue to comprehend. She once had a go at a baker on a Christmas special because his Christmas dinner themed bake didn't have a turkey, even though it was clear from the stories he shared of his own Christmases that his family likely couldn't afford one. "It's not really Christmas dinner without a turkey," Prue said into the camera angrily while sitting on a chair made of live orphans and telling the ghost of Christmas Future to come back when he had another museum gift shop necklace for her to round out her collection.

The show is no longer about which baker has the best skills. It's become about which mortal can appease the gods of Mount Olympus, ie. the judges.

The Bakers:

Remember when the show was about them? Channel 4 doesn't! Because this is a reality competition show, the bakers are chosen both based on their skills, as well as cast-ability. They're cast as characters, distinct from each other, from different areas, age groups, ethnicities. All of them are amateurs. All of them are middle or lower middle class. They've ranged from college students to supermarket cashiers to prison wardens to scientists.

Something I noticed when the show moved to Channel 4 is that the baker who goes home in the first week is always wildly behind the rest in skills. I have no proof of this other than my eyeballs and deductive reasoning skills, but I think that Channel 4 deliberately casts a ringer each season who they think will be an easy send-off in the first week, just to get the audience's feet wet.

Anyway, like I said, this show used to be about the bakers - about them building skills and learning, and having walked into the tent with a self-taught foundation and understanding of the processes and chemical reactions involved in baking. When the show was on the BBC, the end of each round had some (often brief) moments of tension - will they finish in time? Will they get their bakes on the plate before time is up? Did they forget to add sugar to their batter and only remember at the last minute? In the end, they usually managed to finish and we'd all breathe a sigh of relief and think, yeah! You go, Bakers Who I'm Rooting For!

Now, on Channel 4, the end of round drama has been stretched to be so much longer that they've composed extra music for it. The bakers often seem out of their depth, whether because the instructions for the technical challenge are too vague (bake a lemon meringue pie??? As if anyone in the UK under the age of 60 has had one in the last decade???), or because they were expected to bake something that required a more than a basic foundation they weren't told of. Often it seems like they just aren't given enough time, a tactic used by reality competition shows to manipulate contestants into giving the cameras more dramatic content. On top of all this, the hosts get in their way, instead of helping them plate their bakes. As has been pointed out before, when everyone fails the challenge, the real failure lies with whoever set it.

In conclusion:

The show no longer exists to teach the bakers - and the audience - skills or knowledge. It now manipulates contestants for dramatic effect and prioritizes showing conflict over wholesome content. Channel 4 sees the bakers as social media content they can churn out season after season, and don't care about them because in a few months there'll be a new batch to exploit. Meanwhile, the judges are also out of their depth, co-opting recipes from other cultures and butchering them horrendously, while the camera gives them nothing but status as they hold bakers to the expectation that they learn how to make things very much the wrong way. If you saw any of the tweets about Mexican or Japanese week, or read my post on how Paul Hollywood isn't allowed to go near babka ever again, you'll understand.

So what would fix all this? Scrap the current judges and the hosts altogether. Bring back Mel and Sue, and replace the judges with expert bakers who have a love of their craft and want to share it with others. The draw of GBBO used to be its warmth and comfort - if Channel 4 isn't going to start its own version of Master Chef For Bakers, then it needs to stop trying to find a balance of how it can insert that vibe into GBBO. It can't. That's not a thing. Stop trying.

#GBBO #paul hollywood #prue leith #the great british bake off

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

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Unexpected Expectings - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x pregnant!f!reader/pregnant!f!oc

Joel Miller Masterlist

It's a horrible idea, even living somewhere as safe as Jackson. But it's all she wants. Will Joel be able to accept her decision? Or will she have to do this alone?

warnings | 18+ heavy angst, descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, SMUT, decisions around pregnancy, Joel is an asshole :/

.....................

She knows it’s foolish. Stupid really, and maybe even a death wish. It isn’t certain, but it might as well be. Her period has been missing for three months now, and since she’s been living in Jackson, there’s no other reason for its absence other than one glaring option. That coupled with the rolling nausea that has been rocking her these past few weeks makes her as close to certain as she can be. She’s living in a post-apocalyptic world, and she’s pregnant.

She and Joel had been so careful, or at least she thought so. She had even figured out how to track her periods, maneuvering around them to create the least possible chance of something like this happening. Yet, it was becoming painfully clear that they hadn’t been careful enough. The first month, she thought it was just a fluke. The second month, she started to panic when the so-called morning sickness started showing up at all times of the day. Her first instinct had been to hide it from Joel. She knew his past, the loss of his daughter Sarah that had left him shattered, and she knew that a pregnancy would be the last thing they needed. While things were a little different in Jackson – even Maria had just had a perfect baby boy with Tommy – she and Joel had lived harder than most of these people. After their time on the road transporting Ellie, they couldn’t help the skittish streak in them, waiting for the other shoe to drop, another catastrophe, and they were always keeping an eye on the horizon, ready to leave when things went sideways. And they certainly couldn’t do that with a baby in tow.

She should have taken care of it right away, gone to Maria who’d know women in the community that could help. The mountains were rich with herbs and plant medicine, and there’d surely be a way to take care of the situation with the right knowledge. But, something was keeping her from doing it, from ending it, and she couldn’t figure out what the hell it was. Maybe it was some sort of hormonal cocktail already bonding her to this question mark of a child, but all she knew was that she kept stealing wisps of moments alone in which she’d lift up her shirt and settle her palm over her stomach.

It hadn’t been too hard to hide it at first, she and Joel were passing ships during the day, each busy with patrol shifts. When the nausea hit, she’d found ways to subtly excuse herself and find somewhere to quietly wretch until the feeling passed. It was exhausting, but the alternative option of Joel finding out and possibly having an aneurysm seemed a lot less appealing. But as time kept passing, the reality that she’d have to handle the situation or tell him the truth became more pressing. It happened one morning as they were showering together. Joel had been grazing his rough hands along her body, palms splaying along her sides as she pressed her back into his chest, head tilted to rest on his shoulder. He had hummed in her ear, fingers skimming over her stomach to graze the underside of her breasts.

“Civilization looks good on you, honey. Finally got you eating proper and you fill out so nice.” He had emphasized his words with a harsh squeeze to the swell of her breasts, but she had stilled in his hold, her eyes blowing wide in fear. She had quickly recovered, turning in his hold and distracting him with a sloppy blowjob, but once they got out of the shower and started getting dressed, she had hung back, waiting until he was already heading downstairs to finally look in the mirror. It was subtle, but her stomach was obviously swollen, the hint of an arc, and her breasts were also feeling different, heavier in her hands.

That was a month ago now, and each day since she had told herself it will be the day she confronts Joel with the truth, and each day, she keeps on hiding it from him. But it was certainly getting harder. She hadn’t really let him touch her since that morning, opting for chaste pecks and quick slips out of his grabby hands and she could tell Joel was getting more and more frustrated at the distance. He did however let her off the hook for her uncharacteristic distance when he found her hunched over the toilet and heaving out the contents of her stomach. Morning sickness had been continuing to mount, and it had become all but impossible to hide it. When he asked her what was wrong with a panicked worry washed over his face, she chalked it up to food poisoning, an answer he reluctantly accepted before getting her a glass of water and helping her lay down. But food poisoning doesn’t last for weeks.

When she wakes up the next morning, Joel already gone on an early shift, she knows that by tonight, he needs to know the truth.

The first thing she does that morning is head to Maria’s house. Her mind is a fog of thoughts as she knocks on her door, but she’s quickly shocked back into reality when Maria opens the door with her little boy on her hip. The sight of the mother with her child takes her breath away, and she unconsciously brings her own hand to ghost over her stomach before quickly jerking her arm down to her side and digging her nails into her palm. Maria offers her a smile, but confusion settles in a crease between her brows.

“Hey, Joel said you weren’t feeling too well yesterday. Are you doing alright?” She sighs, trying to find the right words but failing as she wrings her hands on Maria’s doorstep.

“Um, hey, I-I’m fine, but– can I talk to you about something?” Maria’s eyebrows raise slightly, but she nods, shifting to let her come in before closing the door behind them. They sit down on the sofa in her living room, and her eyes immediately catch on the small memorial to Sarah and Maria’s own son that rests above their fireplace. She feels her throat tighten at the sight, but quickly shifts her focus back to Maria, who’s gently cooing at her brightening boy. She can’t help but smile at the sight, but Maria glances up at her, reminding her that she isn’t here for small talk. She clears her throat, taking a sharp inhale before speaking.

“There’s no good way to say this so I’ll just get it out. I’m pregnant.” Maria’s jaw falls slightly, her eyes wide, the only sound breaking the suffocating silence are the light coos of her baby. She takes another deep breath before continuing.

“It’s Joel’s, obviously. A-and I’m pretty sure it’s been three months?” Maria finally nods.

“Ok. What do you wanna do?” It’s such a simple question, but it’s the first time she’s talked about this with anyone, and she can already feel tears pricking her eyes as she stammers out a response.

“I– I wanna say that I don’t know– but– I– I do. I wanna keep it– so bad. I-is that crazy?” Maria’s wide smile is a huge relief, and the laugh she lets out washes away any uncertainty she had.

“No. It’s not crazy. Not at all. If anyone is tough enough to do it, it’s you.” Just then, Maria’s boy lets out a shrill giggle that startles them both, making them laugh and share a warm smile. She can see a streak of worry cross over Maria’s features, though, and the woman sighs.

“I have to ask. Does Joel know yet?” Her smile quickly fades, a deep frown settling as she looks down at her hands, shaking her head.

“I’ve been battling in my head about it until just now. Wasn’t even sure he was gonna need to know anything. But I guess now he’s gonna have to find out.” Maria purses her lips, seeming to think on it for a moment.

“Well, I’ve known Joel long enough to understand that this might not be easy. But you don’t have to do it alone. I know– we’re all supposed to have dinner together on Friday– Tommy and I and you and Joel and Ellie. What if you told him then? Amongst family.” She feels tears threatening to spill again at Maria’s idea, and the woman is quick to take one of her hands and offer a reassuring squeeze.

“You are family, you understand?” She smiles, nodding jerkily as she swipes away her tears.

“Thank you, Maria. Just– thank you. That means a lot to me.” They share another smile, but she can’t help the anxious thoughts burrowing into her head.

“It’s just– I’m worried I won’t be able to hide it until then.” Maria furrows her brow and she sighs under her gaze.

“I’m having terrible morning sickness. Honestly, whoever decided to call it that is an idiot because it’s all day. I just don’t think Joel is gonna keep buying the excuse of food poisoning until Friday.” Maria nods at her words.

“There’s a tea I can show you how to make. I drank gallons of it when I was pregnant with this little devil. Why don’t I come back to your house and I can show you how to make it?” It’s less a question and more a direction as Maria’s already standing with her boy still on her hip, walking into her kitchen to gather whatever she needs to bring over with her.

…

When they get back to the house she shares with Joel and Ellie, it’s quiet, no one home yet. Keeping her baby slung to her chest, Maria sets to work, showing her the herbs she’s combining to steep in a pot on the stove.

“Honestly, I’d just keep a pot brewing with this all day. The stronger the better in this case.” She nods at her words.

“Thank you for helping me with this. It’s just been so exhausting, it feels like it’s only getting worse.” Maria smiles knowingly, lightly stirring the pot of brewing tea.

“Well, they say strong morning sickness means strong baby. I’ve also heard that having a lot of morning sickness is a sign it’s a girl.”

“Who’s having morning sickness?” The women both jump, startled by Ellie’s sudden presence in the kitchen. She quickly stammers out an answer, trying to cover their trail.

“H-hey, Ellie bean. No one has morning sickness. We were just talking about Maria’s pregnancy, that’s all.” By the squinting look the girl gives them, she can tell Ellie’s not quite buying her answer.

“Uh, ok, but Maria had a boy.” She glances at Maria, who looks just as confused as she feels.

“What’s that?”

“Maria had a boy. And she said that having lots of morning sickness means it’s a girl, so I don’t see how you could’ve been talking about her pregnancy– is something else going on?” Before she can come up with a reply to Ellie’s skeptical question, a punch of nausea washes over her and it’s all she can do to hinge over the edge of the sink before she’s emptying what little was in her stomach into the porcelain basin. When she rights herself, swiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Ellie’s eyes are wide and her mouth is hung open.

“No way–”

“Ellie–”

“Are you for real right now? You’re pregnant?” She shushes the girl’s exclamation, holding her by her shoulders and looking her square in the eyes.

“I-I am, but, Ellie, you can’t tell anyone–”

“Wait – it’s Joel’s, right? That was a dumb question, of course it is– wait, does he know yet?” She sighs, offering the girl a small shake of her head and Ellie’s face falls.

“A-are you not keeping it or–?”

“No! I am, I am. I decided I am.” She glances behind her to Maria who gives her a small smile of support. Maria steps forward and both women place a hand on Ellie’s shoulders.

“Ellie, she’s gonna wait to tell Joel until this Friday. When we’re all together as a family. But until then, you can’t say a word to anyone.” Ellie’s eyes widen again and she lets out a huffed laugh.

“Oh shit. Joel is gonna freak the fuck out. You do realize that, right?” She sighs, letting her hand drop from the girl’s shoulder.

“I do. Which is why I’m waiting to tell him, ok? Joel can’t know anything until then.”

“What can’t I know?” All three of them let out startled yelps, turning to see Joel coming in through the back door. Shit. When none of them answer his question, he huffs, putting his hands on his hips.

“Hey, what can’t I know?” Ellie’s eyes dart nervously between her and Maria, but both women are still too stunned to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, Joel’s eyes wander to the kitchen counter, where Maria had left the book she brought over. She had offered to lend it to her, an old tattered copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. If the title didn’t make it obvious, the picture of the very pregnant woman on the cover certainly did.

It’s as if she watches it in slow motion as he shuffles over to the counter, picking up the book and inspecting it. He holds it aloft, peering back at the trio who have all still failed to pick their jaws up off the floor.

“What’s this doing here?” His gaze shifts from Maria, to Ellie, finally to her. She can barely meet his eyes with her own, still swimming in her mind for how to answer him. Ellie’s the first to break the silence, stepping in between her and Joel.

“Listen, old man. You don’t get to be mad at her, alright? It’s bad for the baby.” Joel’s face immediately slackens, the book falling from his hand with a heavy thud as it meets the floor. She grits her teeth. Jesus christ, kid, so much for not saying anything. Maria speaks then.

“Ellie–” The girl whips around, a panicked look on her face.

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry–” They’re startled again when Joel brings a heavy hand down on the counter, the sound reverberating through the kitchen.

“Somebody better tell me what the fuck is going on, right now.” She squeezes Ellie’s shoulder.

“It’s ok, Ellie. Why don’t you go with Maria? Joel and I need to talk.” He huffs at her words but she keeps her attention on Ellie and Maria, both of them giving her a weary, questioning look. She just nods, ushering them out of the kitchen.

“Go. I think we need to have this conversation just me and him.” The pair finally acquiesce, Ellie muttering another sorry before she turns back to shout over her shoulder at Joel.

“You better be nice, old man. If you hurt my future sister you’ll have to answer to me.” She winces at the girl’s words. It definitely didn’t help the incredulous look that had wiped over Joel’s face. She finally turns back to face him fully, wringing her hands. He huffs again, shifting in his work boots as he peers at her.

“You better start explaining yourself. Is it– are you–” She lifts her chin, trying to be confident under his scrutinizing look.

“I am, Joel. I’m pregnant.” His features slacken again and he rakes both his hands through his hair, letting out a low curse.

“Is it– is it mine?” She chokes on a breath at his ridiculous question before letting out a humorless laugh.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? Of course it’s fucking yours! What kind of question is that?” He sighs, scrunching his eyes shut and shaking his head.

“I’m sorry– I just– it just came out– fuck. I know that– I know it’s mine.” He scrubs a hand down his face, glancing at the pot on the stove.

“Is that what this is for? Maria told you how to take care of it?” It’s her turn to scrunch her face at him.

“What? No. Joel I– I’m going to–” He holds up his hand, cutting her off.

“No.”

“Joel.”

“No. Don’t say what I think you’re about to– don’t tell me you wanna keep it.” Something in her crumples at his words, so she does what she does best when she’s under attack. She gets pissed. She gets up in his space, her sudden heated change in demeanor seeming to catch him off guard as she jabs her finger into his chest, making him stumble back until he’s leaning against the counter.

“I’m not telling you I wanna keep it. I’m telling you I am keeping it.” He scoffs at her words, hulking over her even as she tries to stand her ground.

“Well then you’re not as smart as I thought you were. Are you really stupid enough to think this is a good idea? This–this mistake? That’s ridiculous. And don’t expect me to play house with you either because I want no part of this.” She’ll deal with the pain his words are sending shivering through her bones later, but for now, she sneers at him and gets big with anger.

“Fine. I’ll do it by myself if I have to. But you’re not gonna take this from me, Joel Miller, even if it means losing you.” She sees something flash behind the ire in his eyes and she thinks it’s the same hurt she currently feels squeezing her heart. But it’s gone in an instant, Joel huffs before shouldering past her and storming through the house and out the front door. It’s all she can do to hold herself up on the counter as the first sob racks her body.

…

She has no idea where Joel stomped off to, and she doesn’t want to be around to find out when he gets home. With a backpack stuffed with whatever she thought she might need, she stumbles out across the street, back to Maria’s house. The bright sunlight of mid-afternoon stings her tear-worn eyes and she scrubs harshly at her face as she waits for someone to answer the door. She’s caught off guard when it’s Tommy who opens up to her knocking.

“Oh– Tommy, I– um– I–” Before she can stutter anything out, the man is gathering her up in a hug that makes her let out a small “oof.” He pulls back, guiding her into the house and quietly closing the door.

“Maria told me. I’d like to say congrats, but I also think I’m gonna have to apologize for whatever dumb shit Joel pulled when you told him.” His words make her let out a breathy laugh, but then she falls apart all over again. Tommy rubs her arms as more sobs break, guiding her over to sit on their couch. She digs the heels of her palms into her eyes, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry– I-I can’t stop f-f-fucking crying today.” Tommy offers her a sad smile, sitting down next to her and squeezing her hand.

“I’d say that’s a fitting reaction. If you wanna cry, then you just cry, alright? Now what the hell did Joel say when you told him?” She sighs, a long shudder running through her as she finally glances up at Tommy.

“He said it was stupid– that I want to keep it. Called it a mistake.” Tommy huffs, a deep furrow of frustration settling across his face.

“Well, my suspicions are confirmed. Joel’s acting a fucking fool. Did he storm off?” She nods and Tommy lets out a dry chuckle.

“He’s predictable, the old shit. You already know this, but he’s a reactive asshole. I can guarantee he’s already starting to feel bad for all that garbage he said.” She nods, a wave of exhaustion passing over her that has her leaning back into the couch and tilting her head up to look at the mottled ceiling.

“I know that. But– I don’t– this is different from anything else.” Tommy looks at her questioningly and she sighs.

“I just– I think this might be it, Tommy. I think it might be too much for him.” Her eyes are fixed on Sarah’s name scrawled on the chalkboard atop their mantel. He rests a hand on her knee, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“Well, then Joel is an even bigger idiot than I thought. Look, I have a pretty good idea of where he sulked off to. Why don’t I go talk to him?” She shakes her head, eyes hazy in resignation.

“No, I think it’ll only upset him more. Whatever conclusion he gets to, he needs to come to it on his own.” Tommy sighs, but nods at her words.

“And you? What’s your conclusion?” She brings both her hands to rest over the slight swell of her belly.

“I’m prepared to do it alone if I have to. God– I don’t think I’ve wanted something this bad in a long time.” Tommy smiles at her words, giving her knee another squeeze.

“Right on, mama. And, Joel or no Joel, you aren’t gonna do this alone. Maria and I, we’re here for you. And Ellie too. Pretty sure that girl is gonna knock his lights out if I don’t beat her to it.” She can’t help the warbly laugh she lets out at that and it feels like the biggest relief after such a shit day.

“Thank you, Tommy.” The man nods.

“No need for thank you, not when it comes to family.”

…

Tommy shows her up to their spare bedroom and she conks out nearly as soon as she lays down, the day she’s had finally catching up to her. When she wakes up, the room is a wash in the orange haze of evening. She can hear quiet laughter floating down the hall through the cracked door of the room and she follows the sound to find Maria and Ellie in the nursery, sprawled on the rug as they play with Maria’s boy. Ellie is on her feet in an instant, wrapping her up in a hug and whispering a meek “I’m sorry” into her collarbone. She rubs the girl’s back, pulling away to offer her a small smile.

“It’s alright, Ellie bean. It’s gonna be alright.” Ellie nods, her eyes glancing down to her stomach and she can’t help but laugh at the girl’s suddenly very nervous demeanor. Ellie’s eyes whip back up to hers.

“Can I– um– could I–” She cuts off her stammering, grabbing one of her hands and laying her palm over her stomach. Ellie’s eyes widen.

“There’s not much to feel yet, but–”

“Woah, s’already, like, round. That’s so fucking weird, man.” She snorts at Ellie’s words.

“Gee thanks, kid. That makes me feel a lot better.” Ellie huffs, letting her hand fall away before looking back up at her.

“Is it really gonna be a girl?” She glances at Maria who’s now standing with her boy on her hip.

“Well, I guess we won’t really know until they’re here. Whoever they are. But I have to admit I’d kinda like a girl seeing as I already have some experience in the area.” She nudges Ellie’s shoulder and the girl laughs at that, eyes crinkling up. Maria sidles up to the pair, leaning and whispering in a fake conspiratory way to Ellie.

“Did you see the way she threw up? Definitely a girl.” They share another laugh, and it’s almost enough to quell the twinge of pain she’s still feeling, Joel’s name pulsing in her mind like a second heartbeat. But she’s quickly taken out of the fog as Maria ushers her and Ellie downstairs to help with dinner.

…

Dinner is lovely, save for the glaringly empty chair at one end of the table. She can tell that they’re trying to keep her mind off it, off him, asking her all kinds of questions about the baby that is now most certainly not a question mark, but a firm exclamation point of a yes. Ellie asks her if she has thought about names and while she honestly hasn’t, she’s surprised by how quickly she has an answer.

“My sister’s name was Olivia, but everyone called her Libby. I think that might be nice since everyone’s so sure it’s gonna be a girl.” It’s sad, but it’s also sweet, and a gentle silence falls over the table as they all take in her response. But they’re startled out of the moment when a quick set of knocks on the front door rings through the house. She knows it’s him, she just does, and her eyes dart anxiously to Tommy’s. Tommy clears his throat, softly muttering “excuse me” as he stands and walks out of the room towards the front door. They’re all holding their breath as he opens it, but something in her snaps when she hears Joel’s voice.

“Is she here?” She can hear the shuffle of Tommy’s boots, most likely as he stands in the doorway to block Joel’s entrance.

“Hello to you too, brother. What exactly can I help you with?”

“Tommy, please. I-I need to talk to her.”

“Are you just gonna spew more bullshit at her? Because if that’s the case then I can’t let you see her, Joel.” She can hear the frustrated huff that Joel lets out, can even picture the scrunched look he probably has on his face right now.

“Look, I went home and she wasn’t there. Is she here or not?” She glances at Ellie, a worried look pinching the girl’s features, and she does her best to offer her a reassuring smile, but it’s hard to be convincing when her own stomach is twisting in knots.

“Brother, you oughta be ashamed of yourself for what you said to her. How could you? After everything you two have been through together? It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“You couldn’t understand, Tommy. What it meant for me to lose–” Tommy cuts off Joel’s words, an anger in his voice that’s new and raw.

“Don’t you dare say I can’t understand. I lost her too, Joel. But at least I’m not a fucking coward like you. Sarah would be disgraced by the way you treated her today.” There’s a shuffling of boots, and then Joel’s harsh words.

“Watch it.” She’s heard enough, getting up and hurrying out to the front door. She finds the men nose to nose, sneers stretched across their faces. When Joel catches her out of the corner of his eye, he immediately slackens, shrinking back from Tommy. She’s amazed by how small he seems as he looks at her, his eyes heavy and glistening. She tentatively steps forward, angling herself between the two men. She does her best to seem confident, tilting her chin up at him

“What is it, Joel?” He clears his throat, opening his mouth but then seeming to think again and pursing his lips in a thin line before he finally speaks.

“Um– I– can we talk?” His eyes keep darting down to her stomach, the small swell now slightly defined under the fitted t-shirt she’s wearing. She had been hiding in his large flannels over the last few weeks, but she figured there was no longer reason to now. Tommy goes to speak, but she glances back at him, a silent confirmation that she has this under control. He nods, sending one more glare toward his brother before shaking his head and slipping back towards the dining room. She turns back to Joel.

“I’ll listen to what you have to say. But I can’t promise you anything in return.” He nods, wiping his palms down the front of his jeans. He goes to speak, but his eyes glance behind her, and she turns to catch Maria, Ellie, and Tommy leaning out from the end of the hall and peering at them. She huffs.

“Here, let’s go on the porch and you can say what you wanna say to just me.” She steps out, not missing the way he flinches as her stomach brushes past him. He sits down on the bench seat and she chooses to lean against the porch railing across from him. His brow furrows.

“You should sit. Need to stay off your feet now.” She’s stunned into laughter at his words, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Are you serious? Joel, what do you care? Last I checked, you wanted nothing to do with this.” She brings one hand down to rest over her stomach, fixing him with as hard a look as she can muster. He sighs, resting his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward and hangs his head between his shoulders. His voice is a murmur, but she can still hear what he says in the quiet of the quick-darkening evening.

“That’s not true.” She huffs.

“What’s not true?” He tilts his head up, finally meeting her gaze. She can see the tears threatening to fall in the corners of his eyes.

“That I don’t want anything to do with this. That’s not true.” She scoffs, scrunching her eyes shut in frustration before looking at him again.

“Well, I’m sorry if that’s a little hard to believe coming from you. After you told me you wanted no part in, what did you say? Playing house with me? You sure know how to keep a girl guessing, Miller, I’ll give you that.” He takes in a harsh breath, running a quick hand through his hair and shaking his head.

“I know what I said– I-I wasn’t talking sense– when I– when you– fuck– you scared the living shit out of me, you know that?” The pained grimace on his face makes her soften, leaning back into the railing, waiting for him to continue. He sighs.

“I just– we were careful, right? We were always careful. How could this happen?” She tenses up.

“You better not be saying this is my fault, Joel.” He blanches, shaking his head.

“N-no, no. It’s just– never in a million years did I think this would happen. I was shocked when you told me. And it’s no excuse for the way I spoke to you and I’m sorry, I really am. But I just don’t understand how you’re not fucking terrified right now because I am.” She lets out an incredulous laugh at his words before looking back at him.

“You think I’m not terrified right now? You think I wasn’t terrified when you walked out that door? You think I haven’t been terrified for the last three months trying to figure out why I want this baby so bad when I know it’s probably the dumbest idea I’ve ever had? I must be good at hiding it then, because I’m so fucking afraid it makes it hard to breathe sometimes.” A heavy silence falls between them. Joel clears his throat.

“Will you please sit down, honey?” She sighs, a weariness settling back into her bones, but she gives in, sitting down next to him on the bench. There’s a few inches of space between them, and Joel rests his open palm there. She takes the invitation, letting her hand tangle with his. Relief washes over her at the feeling of his thumb brushing along her knuckles. He lets out a ragged sigh.

“The thing is, I do want this. With you.” She turns to look at him and he offers her a sad smile.

“But I don’t know if I can do it. Tommy’s right. I’m a fucking coward, darlin. And I’m scared that I can’t be what you need.” She shakes her head, looking at him questioningly. He squeezes her hand.

“When I lost Sarah– it destroyed me– and I told myself that I’d be in pieces for the rest of my life. Hell, the only reason I didn’t lay down and die right then was Tommy. I needed to protect him, to keep going for him.” He pauses for a moment, taking another shivery breath before looking at her again.

“Then I met you, and that damn kid. And I tried so hard not to care, but fuck– you were it for me and I knew it from the start. And I kept going for you, and for Ellie.” He scrunches his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly.

“We have a good thing going here. But you and I know better than most that it can change in a flash. And if– it’d be the end of me– if I lost you, o-or this piece of you and me. Fuck– my mind’s been racing all day with images of you– with a baby– with our baby. And it takes my breath away how much it scares me– and how badly I want it.” He finally opens his eyes, tears dipping into the worn lines of his face. She reaches up to swipe a stray one away from the arc of his cheek and he leans into her palm.

“Well, it sounds like we’re both scared, but we both want it. So, I guess it’s good we’re on the same page finally.” He huffs out a laugh at her words, a smile ghosting at the corners of his mouth. Truthfully, she’s not sure what to say. But she has a moment to figure it out as Joel wraps his arm around her, pulling her up against him and letting her settle into his side.

“Joel, I know you feel like you have to protect us. But this isn’t one sided. We’ve made it this far because we’ve done it together. We’re a team. I told you I’d do this by myself if I have to, but fuck– I don’t think I can do it without you. But I know we can do it, scared shitless, together.” He brings his hand to cup her jaw, skating his fingers over her cheek, and he gives her a firm nod.

“We’ll do it, together.” She leans forward, pressing a hard kiss to his lips around her splitting smile and she can feel his own grin in the way he kisses her back. For a moment, all that matters is the way his hand holds her face, the way her palm presses into his chest, and the way they keep kissing like they’re trying to steal each other’s breath. And then they’re promptly jostled out of the moment by a muffled voice resounding from behind the window they’re sitting in front of.

“Ugh, gross!” They both jerk away from each other, glancing behind them to just catch a flash of Ellie’s face before she’s dipping out of sight. They look at each other for a beat, before dissolving into disbelieving laughter. Joel shakes his head, hugging her tighter to his side and laying a kiss in her hair.

“That damn kid.” She snorts, looking up at him.

“I mean, we’ve already got a little practice with a child of the apocalypse. What’s one more, huh?” He huffs, before dipping down to kiss the sly grin off her face.

…

They return home together, after a rather tense reconciliation between Joel and Tommy that ended in Tommy telling his brother that he’d be “checking in to make sure you’re not being an idiot.” Maria had brought down her pack for her, telling her that she had tucked a few things in it that might be helpful, before shooting a weary glance at Joel that communicated plenty without her having to say anything.

When they enter the house, Ellie turns on her heel, wagging her finger at Joel and making him stumble back in his tracks a bit.

“Listen here, old man. She may have forgiven you, but I got my eye on you. If you pull any more of your weird, grumpy bullshit, you’re gonna be answering to me, alright? We need to create a stress-free environment for her, and all your scowling nonsense ain’t gonna fly.” Joel grumbles, letting out an exasperated huff of her name, but she’s already putting a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder, getting her to stand down.

“Don’t worry, Ellie. I’m pretty sure I can handle the old man.”

“Hey–” Joel scoffs in protest but she shoots him a look over her shoulder that makes his mouth promptly shut. She turns back to Ellie.

“Maria said they’re playing a movie tonight in town. I bet Dina will be there helping out with the little kids. Why don’t you go–” Before she can even pose the question, Ellie’s already shrugging her jacket back on and heading out the door with a hollered “I’ll be back!”

Watching the interaction, Joel looks exhausted, like he just ran a marathon. She grins, sidling up to him and rubbing her palms up his chest.

“How the hell do you do that? Does she come with a remote that I don’t know about or something?” She laughs, shrugging at him.

“Maybe I’m just a natural, Miller.” That earns her a crooked smile from him as he cups her jaw in both his palms, dipping down for a quick peck. She squeezes his shoulders before turning to head upstairs, he close on her heels.

They move without needing to speak, falling easily back into their normal routine, letting water warm up for a shower as they peel off their clothes from the day. She suddenly feels nervous, being bare before him. She had been dodging their usual routine, bathing alone to keep him from noticing anything. It’s the first time in a month since he’s seen her like this, and things have certainly changed since then.

She tentatively steps into the bathroom, his bare back facing her. When he hears her he turns around, eyes instantly roaming across her body. He doesn’t let his eyes linger on her belly, instead focusing them back on her face, an unreadable expression across his features. She feels nerves settling cold in her throat. He looks like he wants to say something, but instead lets out a low hum before turning and getting into the shower. She follows, stepping in front of him with her back facing his chest. She jumps slightly when his hands come to her sides, ghosting up until they run along her shoulders and down her arms, his touch disappearing just as soon as it came. They take to the task of cleaning off silently. Joel is gentle as he washes the soap from her body, but she can’t help but notice how his hands maintain a noticeable distance from her stomach. The longer it goes on and the longer he won’t touch her there, she can feel herself wilting, finally shrugging off his hands and leaving him in the shower. He calls out her name as a question, but she’s already wrapping her towel around herself and stepping out of the bathroom.

She knows it won’t be as simple as telling each other that it will be alright. She knows that Joel is having as much a hard time with this as she is. But she would give anything for him to touch her, to fully acknowledge what they have created together. She sighs, shaking her head of these thoughts as she rummages through her backpack for the clean clothes she had stashed in it. What she first finds, however, is a small bottle of what looks like oil with a note wrapped around it from Maria.

Stretch marks are a bitch. This helps. -M

She smiles at the note, unscrewing the cap and carefully smelling the contents. By the scent, she guesses it must be rosehip oil. She figures people must be collecting the wild blooms further up the mountain, processing them down to oil. She’ll have to thank Maria tomorrow.

If she was being honest, she hadn’t really looked at herself, not since last month. She had been trying so hard to hide the reality of her changing body that she had concealed it from even herself. Still holding the bottle of oil, she steps in front of the time-mottled mirror that hangs on the back of their closet door. She drops her towel, letting it pool around her feet and takes in the sight of what is now clearly a bump. She smooths her palm down the expanse of her stomach, taking in the curved path in the mirror before twisting to the side to see the obvious arc. She notices the silvery lines spidering across her hips there, lines that are new. Lines that mean growth. Lips parted in awe, she twists this way and that, fully taking in the foreign sight of her body.

The sound of Joel clearing his throat startles her out of her reverie and she turns her head to see him standing in the doorway to the bedroom with a towel slung around his hips. She’s frozen where she stands, pinned under his heady gaze that finally seems to be taking all of her in. His eyes catch on the bottle she’s still holding, looking back up at her with a question across his face. She smiles lightly, holding the bottle up.

“It’s from Maria. For stretch marks, I guess. Didn’t think I’d still be worrying about those after society collapsed.” It’s a lame attempt at a joke as Joel continues to study her. She still can’t figure out what he’s thinking, something she’s not used to. He clears his throat again, meeting her gaze.

“Do you want– could I– um– can I help?” Those three gruff words settle the aching worry in her chest. She smiles, nodding at him and he pads into the bedroom, his eyes not leaving hers as he settles on the edge of the bed. She shuffles over to stand between his legs and hands him the bottle. His eyes only break from hers when he looks down to unscrew the cap and pour some of the oil into his palm, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

She can’t help the shiver that runs through her when his hands find purchase on her hips, rubbing small circles that start to get larger as he smooths over her sides. She rests her hands on his shoulders as he works, pausing only to pour more oil out into his palms. He hesitates before letting his hands lay on the actual swell of her stomach, but when he finally does she lets out a sigh that makes him smile. He’s impossibly gentle as he rubs the oil into her belly, lips parted in concentration. She tilts her head, dipping her cheek to her shoulder as she watches him. When he meets her gaze again she can see that his pupils are blown wide.

“Does this feel good, honey?” She hums, nodding lightly, drawing another smile from him as he finishes his ministrations. He rests his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him as he drops his lips over her stomach in a sweet kiss, letting his mouth linger over her skin. The vibrations of the words he murmurs into her skin send another shudder through her bones.

“Beautiful. You’re fucking amazing.” She sighs out his name, carding her fingers through his hair to tip his head back to look up at her. She dips down to meet him in a kiss, his hands squeezing and encouraging her onto his lap as they dissolve into tangled tongues and swallowed sighs. Joel pulls away, letting his mouth trail down her neck, over the tops of her breasts and she arches into his lips. He sighs into her skin.

“Been missing you, darlin. But I guess now I know why you were slipping my hold all the time.” She grins, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he rests his chin in the valley between her breasts.

“You had me worried for a second there. Thought you were trading me in for a newer model.” She scoffs, tugging lightly at his hair to crane his face back up towards hers so she can steal another kiss from him.

“Not a chance, old man. You’re stuck with me.” He groans at the name she calls him, squeezing at her ass where his hands have now wandered and making her yelp.

“Let’s just see if you’re still calling me old man when I’m done with you.” With that, they meet in another rolling kiss, and it’s an awkward shuffle as Joel shrugs out of his towel and they inch up the length of the bed until he’s finally laying back with her straddling his hips. His cock is hard, resting against his thigh and she can just feel the tip of him grazing her backside as he brings his hand to her hip, drawing his fingers through her folds and making her whine out his name. She cants into his palm as he dips his fingers into her entrance, collecting the slick that’s already pooling there and drawing it up to her clit to press firm circles into the nerves there. Her hands find purchase on his chest as he starts to work her over with his fingers.

“Look so perfect like this, honey. Like a fucking painting.” Her eyes screw shut at his words, a whimper of his name on her lips as he starts to pump two of his fingers into her, his palm grinding into her clit with each pass. It’s certainly different, being astride Joel with the bump now all but in the way, and she feels stunted in her movements against his hand, like she can’t quite draw the pleasure from her hips that she’s looking for. Joel seems to sense her frustration, his hand stilling for a moment to instead rub circles into her hip.

“What’s wrong? What do you need, darlin?” She huffs, digging her chin into her chest as she feels a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck.

“I-I don’t know– fuck– it just feels– weird.” She gestures vaguely to her stomach and Joel’s eyes widen, fingers flexing into the plush of her hips.

“Did I hurt you?” She’s quick to shake her head, thumbing at the frown across Joel’s face.

“No– it just– it doesn’t feel like it normally does– I don’t know– I feel awkward.” Joel lets out a long exhale, bringing one of his hands to graze along her jaw.

“It probably isn’t going to feel like it normally does, darlin. But we can figure this out, alright? Wanna make you feel good.” His words send a shiver up her spine and she nods.

It takes a bit of trial and error, but they both settle with her on her side and Joel pressed up behind her, the warmth of his chest spreading against her back. He runs his palm down her side, stopping at the plush of her thigh and encouraging her leg to hitch back over his, spreading her open a bit more for him. From there, he slides his hand between her legs, again finding a rhythm as he dips into her, crooking his fingers in a way that has her gasping as she digs her nails into his forearm. Her hips stutter back into him as he continues to fuck her with his fingers and she can feel his throbbing length pressing against the swell of her ass.

“That’s it, honey. Just relax. Let it feel good.” She whimpers his name, already feeling the pleasure settling heavy at the hilt of her spine, ready to pour over at any moment. She’s definitely more sensitive than usual, her hips jerking every time his palm presses hard against her clit. She cranes her neck back into his shoulder and he lays a kiss to her temple.

“Will you come for me, darlin? Please? Let me see you, huh?” She gives him a jerky nod, scrunching her eyes shut. With one more pass of his hand over her clit the pleasure bursts as she clenches around his fingers. She lets out a pant of his name as he fucks her through her high, squiriming in his hold as the sensation becomes nearly too much to bear. He finally relents, drawing his palm up her side before taking the heavy swell of one of her breasts in his hand and squeezing lightly. She groans at the feeling and he shushes her, laying kisses in her hair.

“So perfect, darlin. Did that feel good?” She sighs, craning her neck to meet him in a tangled up kiss.

“Yes, Joel. Wanna feel you. Let me have you, please.” He huffs into another kiss.

“You’ve got me, honey. Whatever you want, it’s all yours.” She turns back in his hold, hitching her leg back along his thigh as he draws his cock through her folds. They both sigh at the contact and her mind goes fuzzy when he notches the tip at her entrance. She’s realizing that it really has been a while, and just how much she missed this, missed him.

He slowly rolls his hips forward until he’s pressed flush with her, stilling like that as they both pant at the feeling. His voice is slow and thick in her ear, sending chills down her neck.

“Fuck– I missed this– missed you so much, darlin. Fucking made for me.” She keens under his praise, arching back into him.

“Joel, please– need you to move– p-please–” With a murmured “I got you” Joel rolls his hips again, slipping away to only spread her open all over again, a little more force in the way he grinds into the plush of her ass. It’s a jolted rhythm, both of them desperately chasing pleasure as he finds a slow but deep pace that she swivels back into. The sound is positively obscene, her arousal slicking each of his thrusts, their shared, broken gasps, the creaking of the bed frame. Joel brings his palm down to rest along the undercurve of her belly, his fingers dipping to circle her clit.

“M’sorry, honey– fuck– already close– will you give me one more? Let me feel you, c’mon, I know you can.” Each pant of her breath is his name, a chant as he tips her over the edge again. She flutters around his cock, throwing her head back into his shoulder. He’s not far behind her, thrusting once, twice, before his hips are stilling against her ass, his warmth washing through her core as he comes with a ragged cry of her name. He presses his damp forehead into the nape of her neck as they both catch their breath. She grabs his hand, tangling their fingers together.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to–” She cuts him off with a squeeze to his hand, a wry smile sliding across her face that he can only glimpse over her shoulder.

“I think it’s a little too late to worry about pulling out, Miller.” A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing gruffly into her back.

“Gonna be the death of me, woman.” She winces slightly when he pulls out and he turns her over in his hold, eyes scanning her worriedly.

“Are you hurt?” She shakes her head.

“Just a little sore. It has been a while, huh?” Joel grimaces, stealing a quick kiss.

“Never letting that happen again. I’ll tie you to the damn bed if I have to I need you so bad.” She sputters out a laugh at his words, brushing his dampened hair out of his face.

“Don’t think that will be necessary. You know I’m all yours.” He smiles, bringing his palm to the expanse of her belly, the warmth in his touch radiating all the way to the tips of her toes.

“I’m all yours, darlin. I love you.” Her eyes still widen when he says that. He’s only said it a handful of times, and it still catches her by surprise. She smiles, brushing a light kiss to his lips.

“I love you, Joel.”

…

They get cleaned up, again, but this time, Joel’s hands practically can’t stay away from her belly as they rinse each other off.

She curls into his side once they get back into bed, tracing patterns into his chest as he runs his palm up and down her arm. Joel sighs.

“So, Ellie said something about a sister? Do you think it’ll be a girl?” She cranes her neck to look at him, a grin crooking on her face.

“I don’t know. What do you think?” Joel studies her face for a moment before letting out a huff.

“I think we need another Miller boy in this house. You two already gang up on me. We gotta even the playing field.” She can’t help the laugh that bubbles out at that and he quirks a brow at her.

“What? You don’t think it could be a boy?” She quickly shakes her head, stifling her giggles.

“No, no, it’s not that. I just– do you really want a boy that bad?” He purses his lips.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind a little more testosterone around here. But, I just want him or her healthy. Want you healthy.” She smiles, pressing a kiss to his chest before lifting up to kiss his lips.

“We will be, Joel. As long as we do it together, it’s gonna be alright.” She settles back down onto his chest, but can’t help the giggle that jolts through her thinking about what he said. He jostles her in his hold.

“What?” She sighs.

“Nothing, I’m just happy is all. Go to sleep.” He huffs, but seems to accept her answer, settling into a silence that eventually dissolves into his soft snores. She can’t stop thinking about how funny it is, how badly he wants a boy.

She just knows it’s a girl, and she knows that this sweet little thing is gonna have grumpy Joel Miller wrapped around her pinky finger from the moment he lays eyes on her. Besides, three against one sounds like pretty good odds to her.

#joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #unexpected expectings

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flowerandblood · 1 month

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (15)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, mention of sex, violence, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

For a long time after her uncle had left her chamber she could not recover; she sat on the table top exactly where he had left her, staring dully at the floor where the rolled up parchment lay, feeling his warm spend running down her buttocks. She thought about what was written inside, about what her stepfather really wanted.

I wish to speak alone with you and my daughter, nephew, tonight at the former Vhagar liege. You know the place. Come, if you dare.

She closed her eyes, swallowing loudly, calming herself slowly, feeling that her body was still trembling with terror. Never before in her life had she seen him in such a state, so distraught and broken, and she had no idea what she should do, what she could say to make him believe her – it seemed to her that although he had finally stopped crying, he didn't trust her.

She herself wasn't sure if meeting Daemon was a hope or a trap.

She finally slid off the table, settled on the floor and hissed quietly, clenching her eyelids, feeling the discomfort between her thighs after how brutal their approach had been immediately after their nuptials and now. She sighed quietly, moving slowly ahead and lay back on her bed, staring blankly at her door, recalling in her mind the conversation between her and his mother.

When she and Haleana walked into her chamber, she was already waiting for her.

Dressed as usual in emerald green, she stood up, her hands folded over her womb, the cuticles around her nails plucked and reddened. She looked at her with her big dark eyes, in her gaze pain, regret, remorse, but she wasn't sure what they were caused by.

"So it's true." She whispered in disbelief, looking at her cut lips, at her hand wrapped in a light cloth. She lifted her chin higher, not answering; Helaena stood behind her, silent.

"Gods, what have you done." She sighed, falling helplessly into the chair, covering her face with her hand, as if all that was happening was overwhelming her.

"There's no turning back now, then." She said at last, more to herself than to her, lowering her hand, looking ahead of her with empty, tired eyes. Seeing her bent, thoughtful figure, she lowered her gaze, unsure of what she should say.

After her guards poured the moon tea down her throat, she had nothing more to convey to her.

She was only her husband's mother to her, nothing more.

"He forced you to do this?" She asked at last, and she looked at her surprised, wrinkling her eyebrows and grunted loudly.

"No."

Silence fell again, longer this time. Alicent looked down at her knees, shaking a fleck of dust from her gown, sniffing quietly.

"When Viserys announced your betrothal, I was heartbroken. When Aemond agreed, I thought he did it so that his father would finally notice him. So that he would finally hear any kind word from him. Then Rhaenyra took you away and Aemond declared that he didn't want to see you. I thought it would be better that way. I was sure you had both moved on during those eight years." She said in a trembling voice and looked at her, shaking her head.

"I shouldn't have made you do this. I shouldn't have made you drink moon tea."

She sighed quietly, twisting to the other side, thinking about his mother telling her that he really didn't know anything about what she was going to do, that he was furious when he found out, yet that they had made a mistake by marrying each other that would cost them everything.

For some reason her words did not move her.

She was not afraid of Lord Baratheon's wrath or his daughter's disappointment when they finally found out what had happened.

The truth was that some part of her had been eagerly awaiting it.

Now, however, she couldn't think of anyone but her father, and although she knew it was Harwin Strong who had brought her into this world, Daemon was the one who had truly raised her.

She knew his unpredictable nature and was afraid of what he might do.

She became concerned when her uncle did not return for a long time, guessing that he was now discussing about the letter with his family. She was sure that his mother, grandfather and Criston Cole would be convincing him that it was a trap and suggesting that he let go of the idea that their marriage was in force – that she was a spy and if he backed out of it now, things could still be put right.

For some reason she felt that even if he had doubts about her loyalty, he would not disavow their marriage.

She shuddered when he finally stepped into her chamber – the sun was leaning lazily towards the horizon, if they were going to make it, they had to leave now. The door closed behind him and he stopped in the middle of the room, looking at her with a empty gaze, tired and pale.

"My brother has given his consent for us to negotiate with Daemon on his behalf."

She asked nothing more; her husband ordered them to bring their riding attire, which they changed into quickly. They left the keep in a hurry – she felt a hit of adrenaline and joy when she smelt the pleasant, fresh air around her.

For the first time in long days she was back outside, stepping on the soft grass, hearing the sound of the trees; she felt her uncle walking beside her glance at her once in a while, pondering for sure if she would try to escape. She stopped, surprised when he turned in a different direction than he should have, not understanding where he was going.

"We need to get Larax first." She said to him, turning her head towards Dragon's Pit, which she could see in the distance.

"No. You will fly with me on Vhagar." He replied coolly, without stopping; she looked at his silhouette in pain and moved after him with her heart beating fast, disappointed, for some reason naively believing that he would allow her to ride her own dragon.

However, her whole body was quivering in anticipation, for she had never seen Vhagar with her own eyes before.

She spotted her from afar; she seemed to her as big as a fortress, coiled, sleeping a sound sleep, her scales grey and brown, hot steam gushing from her nostrils once in a while, which dissolved into the air. She stood still for a moment, stunned, wanting to look at her from a distance; her uncle snorted at the sight, amused.

"Are you speechless?" He scoffed with some kind of pride and satisfaction, as if he had dreamed of this moment all his life; he, the second son, with no dragon and no heritage, could finally show her the great beast he had ridden in all its glory.

She heard his shuddering sigh as she snuggled into him, embracing him at the waist, the setting sun and a pleasant warm breeze all around them; his hands cuddled her into himself, his forehead pressed against the top of her head.

He furrowed his brow, surprised when she approached him; she tightened her hands on his leather coat, rose on her toes and kissed him, just as she had when they were children, merely pressing her lips against his. She pulled away from him with a quiet click of her saliva.

H looked at her with big eyes – it seemed to her that he had completely not expected this, still angry with her for what had happened.

"Am I flying towards my own doom?" He asked in a whisper, and she shook her head.

"No."

He sighed heavily, pale, frightened and uncertain, knowing that he was facing the destiny he feared, surely wishing he could now look deep into her heart and know her thoughts.

Whether betrayal lurked behind them.

He let her go, moving towards his dragoness, who raised her head sensing their scent – the ground trembled around them as she caught sight of her, rising restlessly on one of her paws, anxious.

"Lykiri, Vhagar. Ziry iksos ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha ānogar (Easy, Vhagar. It's my wife, my blood)." She heard his loud, deep, calm voice and felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that just a month ago, when she was just a bastard to him, these words would not have passed his lips.

Ñuha ānogar.

My blood.

She was more than his wife, and he was more than her husband.

She dared to come closer when he nodded at her, watching vigilantly the behaviour of the giant beast lying in front of her, its lizard-like, dark eyes watching her with curiosity.

She thought that her uncle had not allowed anyone but himself to approach her for years.

Her husband explained to her that she had to climb up the ropes to her back and sit in the big saddle, belaying her from below, a task that proved difficult and required great strength in her arms. He grasped her buttock several times with his hand when he saw that she was losing strength, and she wondered if he was watching over her safety and that she should not fall, or if he was simply taking satisfaction from it.

Both, she thought, sighing with relief as she finally got to the top and sat comfortably in the large leather saddle; her uncle sat behind her, breathing loudly. She felt him hesitate, his hand embracing her waist, the other gripping the ropes, his face melting into her soft cheek.

"Iksā ñuha vējes (You are my doom)." He whispered, clearly thinking she wouldn't understand; she, however, had spent hours with Daemon reading the same books he'd flicked through then, in the library, before he'd taken her for the first time.

"Hae iksā ñuhon (As you are mine)." She answered him quietly, felt him draw in the air loudly, surprised, his hand involuntarily tightening on her leather coat.

"You were mocking me. Then, when you told me to teach you." He said lowly, disappointed as if he were a small child who had been fooled.

She knew he was saying this because he wanted to put off as much as possible what was about to happen.

She sighed quietly at his words, tilting her head back, resting it on his shoulder, the pleasant, warm evening breeze enveloping her face.

"I imagined you sitting next to me when Daemon teached me. That we were children again. I was trying to get back what I had lost." She said finally, placing her hand on his, large and cold. She sighed as he pulled her tighter to him, his hand from her stomach rose to her neck, clamping around her – she felt his manhood throbb behind her, pressing against her buttocks.

"I know."

"If you try to escape, if you betray me, I will kill you with my own hands." He hissed into her ear, but she felt no fear or discomfort, expecting those words for some reason.

His desperate attempt to threaten her, to stop her from whatever he was accusing her of in his head.

Flying with him into the dark skies, feeling the wind in her hair again and that wonderful freedom, she felt some kind of relief. She pressed her body against the front of the saddle and he embraced her tightly from behind, his cold cheek pressed against hers, his hands holding the ropes embraced her waist.

They both shuddered as they caught a glimpse from below of the fortress they both remembered so well, and on a hill not far away the figure of a red, long-necked dragon – beside it a lone, white-haired figure strolling along the edge of a cliff.

Her uncle commanded Vhagar to land; the ground around them shook from her weight as her great paws hit the ground, sand and dust rising high around them.

Her husband slid down the ropes first and she followed him, squealing loudly as he caught her before she fell to the ground, putting her safely on her feet.

"Don't try anything." He growled, checking her body quickly with his hands to make sure she didn't have a sharp tool hidden anywhere, which she allowed him to do without a word despite the fact that he had already done so before they even left the Red Keep. "Come."

She moved a few steps behind him towards her father, sighing loudly at the sight of him with emotion – she felt her whole body tremble, her lips parted in an involuntary smile.

She thought she would never see him again.

Her husband stopped, and she stood behind him. Daemon looked at her as he unsheathed his sword and dagger from his leather belt, laying it slowly on the ground. She heard her uncle swallow hard, distrustful, and after a moment he did the same, tense, letting the air out loudly as he straightened back up, looking at him expectantly.

"Speak, uncle." He ordered, however, Daemon wasn't looking at him but at her.

She realised he had noticed what was clearly visible on her lower lip.

"You married him." He said offhandedly, looking at her with a gaze that made her shudder, the one that always recognised when she was lying or trying to hide something from him. She nodded.

"He forced you?"

"That's enough. Did you summon me to mock me, uncle?"

"He forced you?"

"No." She heard her own trembling voice, looking at him pleadingly, unsure if he would understand why she had done this, or if he would see it as a betrayal.

Daemon looked to the side, pressing his lips together, and sighed heavily, as if he was very tired, a light breeze blowing his white hair partly pinned back as he finally turned to her husband.

"So you know what duty is. What family is. And yet you support your brother who stole his sister's throne." He said coldly; she looked uncertainly at her uncle-husband, who clenched his eyelids and chuckled under his breath, as if something in his words amused him.

"Why should I support my sister, the same one who, when I lost my eye, wanted to interrogate me thoroughly because I told the truth out loud? Why should I support her children, who have no claim to the throne?" He hissed; he and Daemon looked at each other warily, fighting for glances, for dominance, for who would have the last word.

"You married a woman you think is worthless? Like her brothers?" He asked dryly, Aemond snorted loudly, shaking his head in disbelief.

"She is my wife. Who her father was no longer matters, for she belongs now to my family, for our children will bear my name." He growled loudly, hitting his index finger against his chest, as if he could finally get out what he really felt.

She looked at him in disbelief, surprised that he wasn't holding back, that he wasn't limiting himself to conveying his brother's will, whatever it might be, but saying what he himself was thinking.

Daemon stared at him for a moment and snorted under his breath, shaking his head, looking at him again.

"What does your drunken brother-cunt have to convey to my wife as his justification? I lost my daughter because of him." He said coldly and she looked at him in disbelief, feeling cold sweat on her back, her husband gave her a quick, horrified look.

"What?" She muttered, looking at her father, then at him. She furrowed her brow, feeling that she was having trouble breathing, taking a step back. "You knew?"

"Calm down. You were suffering. I didn't want to add to your pain." Her uncle said quickly, looking at her pale, Daemon laughed out loud, burying his face in his hands.

"Look at you two. The future of the kingdom." He sneered, his nephew's lips tightening, throwing him a sharp, warning look.

"My wife is to pass on her rights to the throne to a child that does not yet exist? What if a girl is born? What if you have no children?" He asked with disapproval and mockery, as if he had never heard a greater foolishness before.

"My brother has agreed to relinquish his rights to the crown, in favour of my and my wife's future heirs. He knows, exactly as you do, that both his rights in light of previous Lords' oaths, and your wife's in light of her being a woman, will always be challenged, and by extension the rights to the throne of their children and grandchildren. No one, however, will challenge the rights to the crown of my and my wife's offspring." He said in one exhale, trying to remain calm; she looked at him in disbelief, her heart pounding like mad.

Grief, hope, disappointment and relief mixed in her heart making her herself not know what she felt.

"Then second to the throne will be your and my sister's children. Children from the rightful bed, pure Targaryen blood. If my wife and I do not beget a son."

"That is not enough. I want the head of your mother and your grandfather."

"Then I want Luke's head. I will gouge out his eyes with my own hands."

"Enough." She said, clutching her stomach, feeling everything around her start to spin – her husband taking a step towards her, frightened, seeing the look in her eyes, blank and furious.

"Enough, or I swear I'll throw myself right off this cliff." She mumbled, burying her face in her hands, shaking her head. She felt her uncle's hand embrace her neck, cuddling her into his chest, trying to calm her, Daemon watching them from afar.

"You will release my daughter as an act of goodwill. She will return with me to Dragonstone, and perhaps I will consider passing on your proposal to my wife. A daughter for a daughter." He said impassively; she felt her husband's hand clamp painfully tight on the nape of her neck, felt his heart pounding like mad under her cheek.

"Never."

Her father looked at her, certainty and impatience in his eyes.

"Tala (Daugther)." He said in an unobjectionable tone, wanting her to choose rightly, to choose her family, her kin.

"Don't you fucking dare." She heard him hiss, his free hand clenched helplessly in her hair, his forehead pressed against the top of her head, his breathing loud, shaky, terrified. "You promised me."

Part of her longed to stay with him, and part of her craved to be free, to go home, to see her mother, her brothers and sisters, to lie in her bed in her chamber.

However, Larax would stay in King's Landing, and with her her husband, who would never again trust her, who would never again look at her as he did then, the day he took her as his wife.

Kill me or marry me.

"Tell my mother that I will always be faithful to her, father." She said quietly, lifting her head, looking at her husband, his wide-open eye red with despair and horror; her hand rose to his cheek, her thumb stroked his clearly defined jaw. "Take me home, uncle."

She didn't appear to have time to finish her sentence, and his swollen, full lips pressed against hers in a passionate, greedy kiss – she felt tears of relief, grief, anger, joy and pain run down her cheeks as she reciprocated his caresses, his hands clenched tightly on her body.

"My sweet Rheanys." He whispered in a trembling voice into her mouth, placing a quick, hot, wet kiss on her forehead before turning towards her father, the satisfaction and confidence on his face from which her heart beat harder.

"She is mine."

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hyperactively-me · 8 months

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king!ghost x reader -- the wedding

You hated your wedding dress.

As you stood there in front of the mirror, your heart sank at the sight of yourself drowning in ornate and thick fabric, embroidery, and jewelry.

The veil was long and thin yet adorned with embroidery, slightly obscuring your vision. The corset was too constricting against your figure. The train of the dress seemed to stretch for miles, making movement a cumbersome ordeal. A dainty tiara sits atop your head. It would soon be replaced by a bigger tiara, one more fit for a queen. Ghost’s queen.

You sit still as the maids apply make-up to your face and style your hair, leaving yourself to your thoughts. At this moment, there was no possible alternative for you but to face him at the altar. You had to utter falsehoods about your affection for him, til death do you part. You had to slip wedding rings onto each other’s fingers, symbols of connection and eternal love. Of course, the public had no idea of your true feelings towards their king. You had to hide behind this facade, this act, that you truly liked this man. You internally roll your eyes as the maids straighten out your dress and veil, adding final touches to your wedding outfit.

A quick knock rapped against the door and the head maid, who introduced herself, came in to help you slip on your shoes.

“It’s time to go out there. Do you have your vows ready?”

Unfortunately is what you really wanted to say, but you bite your tongue.

“Yes.”

“Good. Guests are arriving. Your family is here, your highness.”

You perk up a little at that statement, but you pretend not to care. You still hadn’t forgiven your parents, but you would be overjoyed to see your siblings.

“Diplomats and royalty from other kingdoms will be present,” the head maid continues. “They’re here to bear witness to his majesty’s wedding. They want to show their support of your union. It’s a great thing, your kingdom and Kastron creating peaceful relations. It provides more…stability and protection.”

You nod your head knowingly. You weren’t completely clueless. You knew Kastron has a history of starting battles and wars. You knew they always won. And you knew other territories, kingdoms, and rogue militias who tried to pick fights with Kastron always ended up defeated. Kastron also tended to fight unnecessary wars, burning down villages with no remorse. You supposed you had to keep track of all this, now that you were about to become the queen of Kastron. More recently, you had been thinking about asking Ghost for political lessons…

Which, speaking of, your thoughts begin to drift towards him. Where is he? What is he doing right now? What is he thinking? What is he wearing? Is he dreading this as much as I am?

You would find out soon enough.

Each passing minute brought you closer to the life with him that you didn’t want.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a gentle voice beckoning you. “It’s time to go, your highness.”

You nod, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror. You don’t recognize yourself. Yes, you look beautiful, but it’s not…you, per se. The wedding dress is just a facade, a wall of innocence to hide the fact that you’re marrying a murderer.

You turn, the motion causing the heavy fabric of your dress to brush against the floor. The head maid reaches behind your head, moving the veil in front of your face. She takes your hand, helping you move down the imposing wooden doors in front of you. Everyone from Kastron was in there, royalty from far away lands were in there, your family was in there, he was in there. All waiting for the blushing bride to be married to a killer.

The head maid quickly shoves your bouquet in your hands, and you grip onto the flowers like it’s a lifeline.

This was your reality.

On cue, the doors swing open, heads turn, and the orchestra plays the wedding march. It sounds like a death march to you. (speak now by taylor swift, anyone?)

You fix your gaze on the man you detested, waiting for you at the top of the altar. He was still wearing a stupid mask, his face covered. His body was adorned in the same black regalia he had worn when asking your parents for your hand in marriage. His cape flowed down his back, pooling at the stairs. An anxiety you’ve never experienced before swallowed you whole as you dragged your feet down the aisle, hundreds of eyes picking you apart.

Ghost was looking straight at you, his form unmoving as you approached him.

You had to force yourself to keep going, this time a little faster. You wanted to get this over with. The grip you held on your bouquet made the flowers quiver. God, the feeling of hundreds of scrutinizing eyes on your back made you want to throw up.

You were almost there. Almost there. You look down at the steps in front of you, climbing up to the altar, making sure not to trip on your trailing dress.

You wondered what he thought of you at this very moment. You wondered if he understood how truly scared you were to marry him, a killer, a creator of wars and bloodshed. You hoped you made him feel guilty.

You come to a stop on the top of the stairs, turning to face him. The music stops.

The wedding officiant starts speaking, talking about love, and this and that. It bores you half to death. Every last word he says is a drag.

“Now, for the vows.”

Oh God, the fun part.

You look down at his feet, trying to tune Ghost out as he talks about “steadfast loyalty,” “honor,” “privilege,” and “responsibility.” You want to scream at him to stop.

When he’s done, he looks at you expectantly. You just know that there’s a smirk under that stupid mask of his. You clear your throat, and begin to speak lies.

Meaningless, empty vows of how you would be “patient,” “honest,” “poised,” and “loyal.” The image of a perfect wife. The moment you concluded your words, your vows ceased to exist.

The officiate turned to grab the pillow holding your wedding rings, presenting them to you. He motions for you to grab Ghost’s wedding band. Your fingers tremble as you pick it up.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness, and as I place it on your hand, I commit my very heart and soul to you,” you practically spit out, sliding the ring on his calloused hand.

You watch as Ghost grabs your ring, a rather large diamond sitting on the band. He grasps your hand gently in his own, and he repeats the same: “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness, and as I place it on your hand, I commit my very heart and soul to you,” slipping the ring onto your finger. He squeezes your hand gently before pulling away.

You had nearly forgotten about this part. The kiss. The final nail on the coffin.

He reaches towards your face, pulling your veil up and over your head gently. He stepped close to you, closer than ever before. You reach up to his own mask, pushing up the top to reveal his lips. He lets you, watching you intently. You wanted to rip the mask off his face, but something deep within you stopped yourself.

His hand comes around to the small of your back, pulling you right up against him. He angles his back to the crowd, allowing only you to see, suddenly pulling his mask higher and higher, until it completely slipped off his face.

God, he’s gorgeous.

He bends down to your height, breath tickling your skin. You try to memorize his face before he eventually covers it back up. He pulls you impossibly closer, his other hand coming up to press against your cheek as he kisses you deeply.

The breath is knocked from your lungs as his lips press against yours, hard.

He slowly pulls away after another beat, and surprisingly you find yourself not wanting it to end. He methodically pulls his mask back down, concealing his face once more. He turns back to face the crowd, hand not leaving the small of your back, now cheering loudly for the happy couple. His hand gently pushes you towards the crowd, beckoning you to move. You turn, putting on a shaky smile as you spot your family in the crowd.

Ghost pulls his hand from your back, extending the crook of his arm out for you to take. You clutch onto his arm like it’s a lifeline, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

The orchestra is deafening as you both make your way down the aisle as a couple. The double doors open and shut quickly behind you two, and you let out a shuddered gasp, pulling your hand away from his arm.

This is your life.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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froggoon · 2 months

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I’ll love you in every multiverse I Five Hargreeves x Reader

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Post Apocalypse Au! ( Yes Im writing another one ) WC: 1,791

Summary: The Umbrella’s can understand jumping through time and all its rules, yeah fuck with the timeline and it’ll fuck you right back. But what happens when a portal opens up in the middle of the academy and outfalls a girl who claims to be Five’s wife from a different universe.

Disclaimer: This takes place after season one if Viktor didn’t blow up the moon. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡

The Umbrella Academy had saved the world from its supposed end. The siblings had lounged around the academy slowly letting reality set that they had avoided their demise. It was the next morning when each of them woke up to check their surroundings, making sure that doomsday wasn’t there.

Five went downstairs for his morning coffee when he saw Allison scrolling for flights on her phone and Klaus checking where was the next place he could buy drugs.

“Leaving so soon?” He questioned.

Allison looked up at him although happy to see her brother, guilty because he was right.

“I have to go see my daughter. After everything that has happened I need her now just as much as she needs me.”

Five nodded his head, understanding where she was coming from, although a little irked she wasn’t wasting any time running away.

At this time a portal had opened above the living room. The rest of the siblings (Luther, Viktor, Diego) had rushed down to see what the loud noise was. It was like Deja Vu when Five came back. In the portal, they could see a fight happening. Figures that had looked like them in a place that looked like their home. A woman’s back came close to the portal, they could see she was in combat but stood observing. Another man who they couldn’t identify, had pushed the woman through the portal.

A girl who looked to be in her early twenties had fallen through. Her face was covered in soot, her hair black as night, and her eyes closed in pain. She was wearing a navy body suit that clung to her figure, and blood, not her own, stained the fabric.

The Hargreeves gathered around to observe this strange phenomenon trying to assess the danger of the situation. They were used to people going after them, so why would this time be different.

You coughed loudly before sitting up, and each sibling tensed with adrenaline. The girl looked around the room with blazing blue eyes before she landed on the youngest Hargreeves.

“Five?” you questioned.

Everyone turned to look at Five.

Luther spoke up first, “You know her?”

“I have never met her in my life.” Five retorted.

The girl dusted off her suit before standing. “Well if you never met me, you either will meet me or I’m dead in this universe.”

“The names y/n , y/n Hargreeves.”

“I don’t remember our father adopting anyone else,” Diego said. He raised his knives, carefully ready to strike at any move she would make.

“That’s because I wasn’t adopted into this family. Married actually.” And with this, she held up her left hand, a beautiful diamond ring shone in the light with a gold band beneath it. The diamond was embellished with 2 smaller emeralds on the side, perhaps representing her lover’s eyes.

“Married? To who.” Viktor questioned.

“To him.” She looked back at Five.

“Well not to him, an alternate version of him. We met a few years ago and got married, thus me joining his chaotic family.”

“So what are you saying you guys are married in a different timeline?” Klaus asked.

“No, not a different timeline, a different universe.” She sat down on the couch.

Your brain felt like it was rattling against your skull, and your body ached. You took a minute to think. Fuck, it was going to be difficult to get back to your Earth. And to make things better you had no idea where to start.

“Alright before you all start firing questions at me, someone get me a cup of coffee, black please.” You threw a jacket that hung over the couch on you to hide the state of your clothes. "Allow me," The alternate of your husband said. Five quickly blinked the two of you into the car and began to drive. "So you and I, are married in another multiverse."

"Correct." "You look to be about my age, how come I haven't met you yet here." Surerly he would remember someone as beautiful as you. "Well it's as I said, my version here could be dead or you might not have met her yet. That being said although 18 out of the 20 multiverses I have visited, we are together." "And the other two?" "In Earth 216, we are strangers, never have crossed paths, and never will. We simply live our lives with other people." Five's eyebrows furrowed. For some reason even if he didn't know Daisy, he didn't like the idea of you with someone else. "In Earth 894, we were madly in love but our egos destroyed us, and we were never the same since." Five could tell there was more to that story but didn't press any further. "So tell me about us, how did we end up together." "I was Diego's friend first, he and I met in the police force. Diego kinda took me under his wing as I was the youngest graduate out of the academy. Perks of having a high IQ. Anyway, he invited me over after your father's funeral. " "Long story short, you fell in love with my charms and I was the only one who could tolerate you. We got married not too long after. It was a small wedding but it's my most precious memory. Our families had gathered together at the church no too far away from here. You cried on our wedding day by the way." Inciting a side glare from Five.

"But...that's where we had some problems." "Do you remember when I fell out of that portal?" Five nodded his head remembering seeing a fight in the alternate dimension. "Well, apparently some of the 43 are not too happy about their powers, nor happy about living among the common people, they believed themselves superior and it became chaos." The two of you arrived at Griddys. Five walked over to the side of your door and opened it for you. "Thank you, darling." You said with a smile. Five's heart spiked at the nickname. He shook his head at the feeling, obviously, it's just what you were used to calling YOUR Five. The two of you sat at the counter and ordered your coffees and sweets. You signed before pulling out a small stack of photos from inside your suit. "This is us and your family." The photo was a picture of you and Five on your wedding day. Five had never looked so happy. Beside him was Luther who he assumed was his best man, next to him was Viktor, Diego, and a man who looked like you. You must have caught his staring, "That's my brother Damien." He nodded and looked beside you. You were wearing a long white dress with intricate lacing, the dress was strapless with a square neckline and had a small slit on the side. Your veil was flipped over your head and flowed down your back. Beside you was Allison as your maid of honor and two other women who he assumed were your friends. You weren't looking at the camera but at him. The next picture you gave him was a close-up of the two of you. You were the one taking the photo. His alternate self was older and had longer hair and facial hair, but he faced your side kissing your cheek affectionately. "This is my favorite photo of you." You handed him another photograph but this one didn't have you in it. This one was a picture of just Five and in his arms a little girl. She looked like you. Five gulped, a million questions ran through his head. Could this... could this have been his future if he didn't make that stupid jump? You said that not all multiverses are the same, you and him could never meet in this one. But that didn't stop his heart from hurting at the thought of missing out on a life of happiness because of his arrogance. "Before you jump to conclusions, she's not ours. She's my niece that we were babysitting. You just looked so sweet with her. You had always told me you wanted kids before but I wasn't ready." You had looked away sadly. In your home, Five always wanted to settle down and raise a family of his own, but you felt like you weren't ready. Now you regretted not because you weren't sure if you would ever be able to get back home. The two of you sat in silence drinking your coffee, both thinking about the what-ifs. "So...how did you end up here. I've been able to time travel but I've never thought about the possibility of multi-dimensional traveling." "As I said there was a fight between us, your family, and some of the 43. They called themselves the Ascendants. Believe to be the superior race." You took a deep breath before continuing. "The Ascendants had a man who could travel the multiverse with his own power, no special gear or machine need. We had planned to capture him but miscalculated. He was ready for us and he aimed to take out me, his biggest threat."

You took another breath before looking into Five's eyes. "I can warp reality. It is essentially in the name. I can manipulate reality itself, altering the fabric of existence according to my will." "But not without a cost," you continued. "Each time I control something, and the bigger it is, the more of my life force I use." Five sat in silence. This was a lot of information to take in. "So what now. How do I help you get back home." "I have...no clue. You were always the smarter one of the two of us." You sighed. It was going to take a lot of research and time to figure it out. "Well, I'm newly retired and have nothing on my plate so let's start at the library come on." He hopped off the stool and made his way to the door. "You coming?" He said turning to look at you. You smiled, he was a great man. Even if this Five wasn't your husband you loved him no matter what. You ran up looping your arm in his making your way out of Griddy's. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚

Author's note: I got tons of drafts just full of ideas I've had and never gone through with. I've been rewatching the MCU films and Spiderverse so that was kinda my inspiration for this one. If you like my work check out my other Five stories here! I also always appreciate comments and feedback! It definitely keeps me going. She's my Angel Pt1. Shes my Angel Pt2.

#five x reader #five hargreaves #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy #umbrella acedmy #aidan gallagher #five #five hargreeves x you #five x y/n #five hargreeves x reader #tua #tua x reader #tua fanfic #tua five #five x you #number five #five hagreeves x y/n

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azullumi · 10 months

Text

“heart to heart” ; ayato, cyno, diluc

summary — he could only watch as you die ; alternatively, he’s there to comfort and hold you as you take your last breath.

characters — ayato, cyno, and diluc (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — angst but not that heavy but not that light also, grammatical errors bcs i don’t like to proofread, established relationship ; scenario/one-shot

words — 1460

note — this is part 1 out of 2 !! here’s the next part with a different set of characters <33

;; AYATO

“—and i want a garden full of tulips.” you declared, a smile creasing the line of your lips, and he admires you ever so lovingly while listening to each one of your words. “why a garden only? we could have a mansion overlooking the sea.”

a hum escapes your lips as you think of his answer, “but mansions are huge and often lonely. i want a home, a warm one, big enough for us and our children and i want a garden where they can play.”

he smiles, gently, eyes gazing at you as if you’re the most lovely thing he has seen and you really are—the moonlight dances and rests on your skin, emitting a soft glow on your features, and you look much more breathtaking than ever. “we can be the ones to plant the tulips,” he elicits a light laughter from you, “mhm, we definitely should.”

it is late now, the both of you are a little bit tired resting underneath the sky peckered with stars. and right now, in the past, and future, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he—

“i love you, ayato.”

his breath hitched, like his heart has crumbled at his hands, you were there bloody and withering away on his hands, like a flower that had cut off its stem. and just like how quickly the world can be created out of three words, it shattered right at his hold.

“please don’t say that.” his voice breaks, faltering, compared to the tight hold he has on you as he desperately wishes that this warm embrace can help you even for a little bit. “why?”

not like this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you aren’t supposed to die like this, you weren’t supposed to leave him, not right now, not ever—not when he still hasn't accomplished all of the things you two have talked about underneath the night sky.

“you’re saying that as if you’re going to die.”

you chuckle, “because i am.”

“this isn’t the time to be joking around.” but he knows the reality of it, he just refuses to accept it. “what about our plans?” he knows it from the way you struggle to find the words in your tongue, from the way you smile at him as you listen to his voice coming apart, “what about the tulips? the garden? you promised me,” from the way your breathing slows down and eventually—

“i… i’m sorry.”

—it stills.

a brief moment of silence and a broken sob came, “you promised me…” that you’ll be there, that you’ll plant the tulips with him. “i love you,” that’s why he mourns for you and the promises you made.

;; CYNO

“i think that’s all of them?” you walk over to his side, feeling the soreness of your body hit you. bodies were found laying all around you but they weren’t dead, just knocked out as if they still have to be taken in for questioning.

“yes but nevermind that, are you hurt?” he asks him in a flat tone, despite the nature of his words, worry didn’t lace his tone. “it’s not that bad,” you say but half of your body feels numb, your side is damp, aching as it continues to bleed—it’s just a small wound.

you weren’t going to die even if your line of work requires you to be put in danger at times, you will never die for anyone, you’ve sworn that to yourself. it may be a selfish idea but you had promised yourself that you will always choose yourself because no one can be more than you. your existence is way too important for someone else’s to have it for their own—nobody can and nobody will.

but not the general mahamatra, not your love, not him as you willingly took a hit for him which left you at this state but he doesn’t know the severity of your situation as you chose to hide it. you didn’t want the man to worry—you were selfish not until it came to him.

your vision blurs and you feel your head spin.

“cyno—“

it happened so fast. you, suddenly collapsing to the ground and him, calling out to you as he towards your direction to catch your collapsing figure before it hits the cold floor.

he cursed underneath his breath, panic washing over him as he noticed your wounded side, covered with blood and it was then that the realization had dawned upon him—you were severely hurt since earlier and he just wants to berate himself, not you, for being so careless and ignorant.

“no matter what happens, don’t you ever dare risk your life for me.”

he trembles, recalling those words in his mind. it was you who had told him that and yet, you’re here, “keep your eyes open.” he pleads in a broken tone.

“i’m sorry…” you try to fight off the growing feeling of your eyes becoming heavy and your slow breathing, fighting off the ominous being cloaked in black standing at your foot. you weren’t going to die, you promised yourself.

you were getting weaker so is the sound of your voice, your vision seems to blur and darken in each moment that passes by and oh god, how much you fear not being able to see his face, not being able to see him completely in your last moments with him—thoughts came drifting in and out of you, asking what kind of expression does he have at this moment. does he still have that same calm expression you adored?

you coughed once more, fading eyes looking for the warmth of his own, “i love you, cyno, from the first time we met until forever. remember— remember that.”

“s-stay with me.” a command, but his breaking voice fails the firmness of his words, his tone could only be so soft as he spoke. “don’t you—don’t you dare close your eyes, that is an order.”

but the light of your eyes had already disappeared and at that moment, not only you had died but also him as you breathed out your last—even in death you still held his heart.

;; DILUC

“a hug, please?” you beckon with your arms wide open for him as you sit on the edge of the bed, your bed and his. the red-headed man only smiled before

“why do you need a hug all of a sudden?”

you hum, “nothing, i just want to feel you.” and in which, he huffs out a chuckle, “you can feel me as much as you want, my love.”

he could spend his life just with you in his embrace alone. oh, how he would choose to be alive by your side over anything, over everything. nothing could beat the solace of your hands on his own, of your lips in a kiss, of your skin at his touch.

but fate could be so cruel.

“do you remember the first time we met? i was also in your arms, you caught me when i was about to fall.” your tone was soft, fragile, as if anytime soon you’ll break and give in. “please—stop talking, save your strength, please. my love, you cannot leave me, you are not going to leave me.”

he spent so much of him guarding and driving danger away from the beloved city of freedom only for him

to not be able to protect you against those, it was injudicious on his part for not thinking that those very perditions that he fights were lurking at the comfort of his home. cruel, cruel, cruel, how could fate be so cruel? how could people be so selfish?

a dry chuckle and a weak response, “we know much better than that, ‘luc.”

how could you still look breathtaking even at the hands of death? how is it that you still manage to enamour him with blood staining your lips?

“i know that i’ve always belonged in your arms, even in death.”

he’s as warm as you remember him and you are cold despite his embrace, you remember—or perhaps, know—the expression on his face as you took your last, remembered the way he feels on you, remembered the way he speaks to you so lovingly, remembered everything about him and burned it your memory in hopes that you’ll know him in your next life, if there is one.

“i love you.” he mumbles as he brings you closer to him, tears that he had been holding back had now came pouring out of his eyes, the words he had told you were laced with warmth and affection—with hurt and poison.

but you are still cold and now, lifeless as you lay in his arms. beautiful, captivating, darling—dead.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin angst #genshin ayato #ayato x reader #cyno x reader #genshin cyno #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #genshin x you #genshin #genshin fanfic #ayato x you #cyno x you #diluc x you #azul.writes

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southsideserendipity · 3 months

Text

drunk & disorderly (alternate ending) (Kelly Severide x Reader)

Synopsis: Your alcoholic father shows up at the firehouse, persistent on making amends.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol abuse, violence, swearing, Kelly being protective AF <3.

Word Count: 2.7k

*This is an alternate ending for one of my imagines: drunk & disorderly. They can be read separately and in interchangeable order. Link to my master list."

“Shay, we are never drinking that much the night before a shift again. I’m so hungover” you groaned, throwing your head back in exasperation in the passenger seat of the ambulance. You were returning to the station after the first call of the day, and the pounding of your temples was exacerbated with every bump in the road.

“Oh c’mon, Y/N, we can handle a lil hangover” she said jokingly. “Besides, wasn’t that drinking game fun?” She asked in a suggestive tone while wiggling her eyebrows.

“I’m not sure, I can’t exactly remember last night’s events” you giggled, trying to rack your brain for a hint as to how the evening played out.

“Well, what I remember extremely vividly is you and Severide not being able to stop flirting with each other,” Shay said this without taking her eyes off of the road, but you knew she wasn’t as annoyed as she was making herself out to be. She loved the idea of the 2 people she loved the most being together.

“I can’t confirm or deny my actions or the events that occurred last night” you led in a serious note, trying to cover up your schoolgirl crush on Severide in a playful manner.

“Oh, just fuck him already! Blame it on the alcohol!” Shay encouraged, using her hands to help communicate the message. “I know you like him, and who’s to say he doesn’t want you?” she questioned.

“I’m not sure Shay, you would know the most given the fact that you live with him, wouldn’t you? Has he said anything to you??” Turning your entire torso towards her, you suddenly become very invested in the conversation. You had made comments to Shay about how hot Severide is, but you’ve never fully expressed your interest in him.

“My lawyer says no further comment” Shay responds, zipping the imaginary zipper on her lips and throwing away the key.

“Oh come on, Shay!! Help a girl out” you moaned in defeat, crossing your arms in front of your chest despite knowing that what the 2 roommates were discussing was private.

Shay was the person who got you and Kelly close to begin with. Being that you and she were ambulance partners, you went over to their place often, seeing him just as much as you see her.

“He may or may not have said some things about you, but that’s all I can say!” Shay spat out the sentence, picking up the speed as it went on as if the faster she said it, the less of a chance Kelly was to somehow find out.

“Oh, this conversation is NOT over" you responded. You weren’t ready to drop the topic anytime soon, but you had arrived back at the firehouse.

Before you could pester her with further interrogations, you saw a figure as she was pulling into the ambulance bay.

“Who is that?” Shay exclaimed, confused that someone was blocking her.

You squinted your eyes, confident that they were playing tricks on you based on who you were perceiving to be there. Once Shay had driven as close as she could without running them over, you knew your eyes were not deceiving you.

“My dad” you spat angrily, upset that this was your current reality; that a member of your toxic family had followed you to the one good thing in your life.

You were both frozen in the ambulance; you, unsure how to avoid this interaction, and Shay, confused as to how she could help you.

You got out of the ambulance and began making your way inside, pretending that your dad was an invisible man and that his presence had no effect on you. Shay followed suit.

When you walked past him you heard him scoff, and he threw his hands up in the air, resembling confusion.

“You’re just gonna walk past me. No ‘Hi dad, how are you? Long time no see.’” You couldn’t believe what you just heard, but once you partially processed it, you decided that this was indeed your battle to pick today.

You had moved to Chicago from Toronto after applying to the academy, deciding that between your narcissistic and emotionally abusive mother, and your alcoholic dad, it was time to leave; not to run away, but to survive.

Your older brother is a firefighter in Toronto, and you easily could’ve gotten a job at his firehouse, but you had always loved Chicago and decided to bite the bullet.

“You have some nerve.” Slowly turning around to face him, you tried to keep yourself from seeing red. He didn’t deserve to know he got a reaction from you. “Showing up at my place of work unexpectedly and expecting me to give you the time of day.”

“I just want to talk, Y/N.” You started hysterically laughing once you heard what he had said, the anger presenting itself through laughter. Your father was confused as to why you were reacting this way, and quite frankly, so was Shay. She had never seen you so upset.

“Get out of my firehouse. You don’t deserve to be here.”You pointed towards the street, urging him to get out of your sight.

“Y/N just hear me out. I know I don’t deserve it but it’s been so long and I just want to be a part of your life again. Things are different now.” The pounding in your head was starting to become excruciatingly unbearable the further this conversation continued.

You could hear the sounds of squad and truck rumbling down the street and you knew that you needed him to leave before the entire house got back.

“Yeah, things sure as hell are different, I left before I suffocated and you couldn’t give a rat’s ass where I ended up. Until today, a random Saturday morning 2 YEARS after I spoke to you last. I want you to leave, NOW. Don’t make me escalate this situation.” You were sick of people walking all over you- blood-related or not, and you weren’t going to have any of this. Especially not in front of your 51 family.

By the time you finished your spiel, truck and squad were both parked and beginning to filter out, undressing from their turnover gear.

Severide hopped out, pulling his turnover gear down to his waist. He was wearing his lieutenant shirt with suspenders, and his squad 3 baseball cap. He would make subtle glances over, not wanting to make the fact that he was eavesdropping obvious.

“I’m not going anywhere until you decide to give me another chance. Until you let me make things up to you” he pleaded, reeking of desperation.

At this point, heads were turning to observe the interaction.

“I gave you one too many chances, and I’m done. I’m not sure how you didn’t get the hint that I wanted nothing to do with you when I moved countries, but I’m now verbally letting you know that this relationship is over.” You had thought about simply walking into the firehouse but you didn’t want to risk finding out whether he had the gall to follow you.

At this point, a few members of 51 had filtered into the lounge, knowing that they probably weren’t meant to be listening to the conversation. Others took their sweet time getting undressed to keep an eye on the situation.

Severide was especially lingering, always having an urge to protect you against harm’s way. He didn’t know much about the situation given that you kept your past secretive, but knowing how abusive fathers can be, he stood near.

“C’mon, Y/N, you’ve always been so damn stubborn. Do you need to act like this when I’m trying to prove to you that I can be better?” Your dad was genuinely curious as to how you could be so cutthroat towards him as if his drinking didn’t ruin the first 2 decades of your life.

“I don’t think you need to prove anything to her. It’s pretty clear you’re not a part of her life and that she wants it to stay that way.” You didn’t expect to hear Kelly’s voice from behind you all of a sudden.

“Kel, it’s okay. I got this.” You felt torn between wanting him to stand up for you and telling him you can fight your own battles. He stepped closer toward you, and Shay took a couple of steps back, knowing you now had extra protection.

“And who are you?” your father asked, not breaking eye contact with you. His hands were placed on his hips, and by his body language, it was evident that he was not leaving without a fight.

“Lieutenant Severide of 51, and respectfully, I’m asking you to leave my firehouse” Severide stated in a calm but straightforward manner. He crossed his arms and waited intently.

Your dad chuckled in what seemed to be astonishment while shifting his eye contact repeatedly from you to Severide. “Sleeping your way to the top; very typical of you Y/N. I thought you would’ve changed your ways by now” your dad scoffed.

You were beyond pissed off that he was even here right now, but that comment officially made your blood boil. Thinking about what you could say in response, your dad decided to speak up once again.

“Let me ask you, how long have you been fucking my daughter, lieutenant?” He said the last word as if it was dirty.

Kelly stepped right up to him as if he had no fears, something you wish you could’ve warned him about before doing. You were grateful your dad appeared to be sober because if he hadn’t, a brawl would’ve already broken out between them.

“Y/N has been nothing but a talented and competent paramedic with a great amount of expertise in her field. She‘s proven time and time again that she’s a necessary addition to this team, and deserves to be a part of this family- she did that all by herself, no thanks to you. Now get out of my firehouse before the chief gets back and escalates this even further.”

You were blown away by Severide’s words, unaware of his thoughts regarding your presence at 51. He managed to respond in a professional yet serious manner, and he did it with ease, seeming completely unbothered by confrontation. The two men were still face to face, and Kelly was not ready to back down for nothing and no one.

“Whatever.” Your dad hadn’t let Kelly escape his gaze for even a millisecond. “You know, maybe I’d have a bone to pick if I came here out of my own free will. This was just part of my 12 steps. Step 9: Make amends” your dad said with a smirk.

Despite not wanting to hear your father out for anything he had to say, the fact that he was here for his benefit and not out of sincerity was your final straw.

It took you a second to even fathom the possibility that he came here for selfish reasons, but once you did, you couldn’t stop yourself.

You lunged at him and began unleashing. “FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” Now you solely saw red. While you were attempting to physically release all of your pain onto him, you felt Severide grab onto your waist and rip you off.

Your arms and legs were still thrashing about, despite him being far from your grasp. “Come here, get off of him. It’s okay.” Severide attempted to console you, but you were furious.

“Y/N! Enough, he’s not worth it!!!” You heard Shay shouting from behind you.

Once Severide planted you back on the floor, and you adjusted the stray hairs that had fallen all over your face, you began to catch your breath.

“What the hell’s going on?” Casey shouted from across the apparatus, walking over with his arms out in question. “Is everything okay?” He glanced between Severide - who looked like he was about to punch a wall, his jaw clenched - and you.

“Nothing, he’s just leaving,” you said while trying to slow your breathing and resist the urge to fight once again.

Your father must’ve thought Casey was the chief because he put his arms up in surrender and turned on his heels.

You abruptly turned around and raced your way into quarters as fast as you could, not comprehending what just happened.

Kelly put his hands on his hips, hanging his head low and then glanced back up toward Shay and Casey while squinting. He knew what it was like when family troubles came into the firehouse, so he felt for you. He didn’t like to see you upset, even though his feelings for you hadn’t been confessed.

“Who was that?” Casey asked, looking between Shay and Severide as if the answer lay between them.

Meanwhile, you rushed through the doors between the apparatus bay and the inside of the firehouse heading straight for the bathroom.

Everyone sitting in the lounge immediately shot a glance toward you but didn’t interrupt- you were evidently on a mission, the anger you felt putting a fire under your ass.

You entered the closest stall and closed the lid, taking a seat. The second you did so, the tears automatically began to flow, anger quickly evolving into sadness.

You heard light taps on the stall, not even realizing someone had walked in. “Y/N?” None other than Severide.

“I’m good Kel, I promise. I’ll be out soon” you said, trying to keep your voice from quivering. You didn’t want the man you had a crush on to think you’re a damsel in distress who needs saving.

“Let me in, Y/N. Please.” You think he meant this literally and figuratively. He knew you were lying through your teeth when you said you were okay. “If you don’t want me to come in that’s fine, I’ll stand outside the door, but I’m not leaving you by yourself.” The door jolted and you could tell he was leaning against it, making himself comfortable.

You knew he wasn’t going to leave, given his stubborn character, so you dried up your tears as best as you could with 1-ply toilet paper and unlocked the door.

He stood up and turned around to face you noticing that your eyes were puffy and your face was red.

Kneeling between your legs, he looked up at you grabbing a hold of your chin.

“Are you okay?” He asked intently, scanning your face for any hints of distress.

“I just wasn’t expecting it, Kel. 51 is my only family and I don’t want him to jeopardize that…” Severide urgently nodded in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face. “He won’t” he stated matter o’factly. “I’ll make sure of it.” He was determined to keep you away from your father.

“I’m worried he’s gonna turn back up here, or worse, get you in trouble. It’s not worth you going to the review board because my idiot father reported what happened.” You looked down at him through wet eyelashes, upset that you indirectly put him in this situation.

“He was the unwanted visitor at the firehouse, and everyone can vouch for that. It’s his word against multiple others.” You nodded in hesitant agreement, not fully convinced by his statement.

“Stay at Shay and I’s for a couple of days, maybe reach out to your brother and see if he knew about him coming here. Or if you wanna stay home, I could get Jay to assign a covert car to your street.” Severide offering you options and comforting you is what you didn’t know you needed.

He looked up at you, glancing between each of your eyes while you attempted to make a decision.

“Yeah, I’ll stay with you both. If that’s okay” you responded, sniffling the leftover snot in your nose after finally calming down. Just being in his presence lowered your blood pressure.

He nodded his head. “You good to go back out?” He slowly got up and held out his hand for you to take.

“Thank you, Kel, seriously.” As soon as you stood up, you engulfed him in a hug, the combination of his natural scent and cologne flooding your nostrils.

He rubbed your back up and down, his chin resting on the top of your head. He kissed your head then said, “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey everyone! I no... long time no chat :( I've had this in my notes for a while and thought I'd post it while I write up some other stuff. I haven't watched the new season's episodes yet, so maybe that'll help the creative flow! I hope everyone has had a wonderful start to the new year :) Again, here is a link to my master list!

#kelly severide chicago fire #kelly chicago fire #kellyseveride #kelly #chicago fire kelly #chicago fire #kelly severide #kelly severide x reader #chicago fire severide #kelly severide imagine #severide chicago fire #chicago fire kelly severide #firehouse51 #ambulance61 #ambo61 #leslie shay #leslieshay #onechicago #onechicagofanfiction

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im-only-here-for-the-fandom · 11 months

Text

Dead Twins

so a dpxdc idea that’s been floating in my head for a long time.

i’ve seen jason and danny being each other’s alternate selves from another reality or father and son, but never as twins, i’ve seen danny being a twin or look alike to all the other batboys (mostly damian) but never with jason.

so they could be the children of the fenton’s but it’s easier for me to write them as children of willis and sheila, willis taking one child and sheila taking the other so she can get child support or something and once she’s done with him she dumps him in an orphanage, where tye fenton’s pick him up as a friend for their daughter jazz.

jason and danny both grow up never feeling alone due to a twin bond between them, when one was feeling sad the other would send happy feelings to cheer the other up, but they couldn’t tell each other’s thoughts or location, their bond streched thin from their separation. so when jason dies, danny feels the bond snap and he feels jason’s last moments, his sadness, his fear, his feelings of betrayal and helplessness at his situation, and it sends him into a depression spiral that not even his sister or friends can get him out of. he could feel himself dying, slowly fading from existence his body failing him at every turn, it wasn’t just depression, it wasn’t just in his head as his sister tried to tell him, it was physical he could tell .so when his parents machine fails and his friends ask him to go inside to take a picture he doesn’t argue even though he knows how dangerous it could be, knows that many of his parents inventions malfunction or backfire in horrible ways. so he doesn’t notice the protruding wire on the floor and trips pushing the on button on the wall as he tries to stabilize himself. he dies and comes back not knowing that when he came back his brother came back with him.

the bond comes back but it’s weak barley stable only assuring the other that they were alive. both being connected to death, to ectoplasm, danny a halfa and jason a resurrected revrent with a core.

their reunion could go several ways:

1. The Ghost King Way

enter world ending threat that the JL can’t defeat and need to summon the ghost king to defeat. danny apears in all his space obssesed ghost king glory, and instantly feels a connection with this strange man wearing a red helmet standing at the back the same bond he has always felt since he was born. jason also feeling this stange bond is very confused as to why his bond leads to the ghost king. they end up hanging out as their alter egos neither knowing that they are in facr twins, their bond strengthening the longer they spend time together. they first start out hanging out at the watchtower but later start hanging out in gotham, jason finaly has himself declared alive again which makes into the paper, that danny ends up seeing.

2. The Jazz Way

Jazz ends up working at arkham asylum much to her brother’s dismay and manged ti make him promise her not visit for at least a month. que her bumping into jason at the library or a coffee shop and sees what she thinks is danny (who she can also sense because she’s liminal) stalking her after explicitly told him not to follow her to gotham and she is furious, she pulls jason by the ear and starts to lecture him in the middle of the road, ‘i trusted you’ and ‘how could you’ and ‘you promised me’ and ‘why did you dye your hair like that’ ,and jason is like ‘lady who are you?’, his siblings are standing to the side laughing at him. jazz realizes that’s not her brother, she shows them a picture of danny and they all agree that they ate identical, and agree to set up a meeting. when they meet they realize that that’s who their bond conects to.

3. The Ellie Way

ellie is traveling around the world visiting all the famous places and decides to visit gotham and ends up seeing jason thinking he’s danny she barrels into him sreaming ‘DADDY’ and jason is very confused, like WTF, she soon relizes that this isn’t danny despite their ecto- signature being almost exactly the same if not for the weird corruption jason has, but decides to be a troll anyways and pretend that jason is her dad danny. she pretends to be very upset that her daddy doesn’t remember her, and shows them pictures on her phone of her and danny doing father daughter things, cuddling, playing. jason on the other hand thinks ‘oh my god did i have a daughter that i forgot about’. they take her home and run a dna test just incase (ellie is just waching the chaos, she also wants to know why he feels so much like danny) and while not a match for a father it is for a close relative like an uncle. with the her act done ellie tells them about danny and how he was adopted and they realize that their related.

-ellie could either be aged up by vlad or rescued and raised by danny before she was aged up.

*** or it could be dan too, actually it would be way funnier if it was dan. grown ass man proclaiming that you are his father, with photographic evidence. they might think he’s from the future or something. dan it just doing it for shits and giggles.

*** or both, both together is also funny, because they would squabble like the siblings they are and jason would have to act like a dad to make them stop.

4. The Ellie Way 2

in this one it’s better that ellie is not aged up.

after danny let her go on a camping trip with his parents while he goes on a business trip or to attend ghost king duties, ellie is kidnapped by meta children traffickers, after seeing her float for a bit. maddie and jack don’t want danny to worry or be disappointed by them try to find her without telling him. ellie ends up in gotham and ends up rescued by jason, senseing his ectoplasm that feels almost exactly like danny, and clings to him fully believing that he is her dad danny, and the only reason he didn’t find her straight away is because his ecto became corrupted. jason is now stuck with a little girl that insists that he’s her father going off of nothing but that he feels like her father so he’s her father. he ends up taking her to the manor and takes off his helmet and tells her “look at me, do i look like your daddy” to which she insists that yes he is her daddy. so they ask if she knows her dad’s number to which she answers yes, they call danny and tell him that they found his daughter, danny is predictably worried and furious because his daughter had been kidnapped and his parents didn’t tell him, he rushes over and the batfam is like omg they look really identical. of course the reunion between danny and ellie is tear filled, lots of hugs and kiss.

5. The Vacation Way

they go on a vaction to lets say the beach, with all their family, jason with the batboys and batgirls and danny with his parents sister and dan and ellie included.

*** jason and danny go to a food truck to get food with steph and ellie. because of the large amount of food they’re carrying they can’t see so they need some one to guide them back, que ellie and steph taking the wrong twin back to their area. both jason and danny ate very confused, who are you people. both families think that something must have happened because neither twin knows who these people are. danny is confused but all for having more siblings and another father, while jason doesn’t understand why a teenager (ellie) and a full grown man (dan) are calling him dad. they both go back to the food truck so that they could maybe trace the problems back and end up meeting.

*** or they could be swimming and end up in each other’s area.

*** or a volleyball game that got too intense, either from the trained batfam or ghost strenght/ectoplasm enhanced family.

for this it’s funnier if ellie and dan were older.

6. The Business Way

danny started a company with sam and tucker, and is heading to a meet with wayne enterprise in gotham. he gets there a few days early just in case, and goes around site seeing and end up meeting memebers of the batfam along the way, he doesn’t know who these people are but they’re very friendly and it’s freaking him out, meanwhile the batfam are very sad that jason is pretending he doesn’t know them even though they had finally put away their differences. it isn’t until the meeting that they realize no that is not jason. or tim who is ceo could think that jason showing up for the meeting is a very elaborate prank

-random snippets that could fit anywhere-

danny telling jason that he felt him die.

for angst both jason and danny having Y shaped scars.

when talking about their death they find out that when when danny died and came back jason came back with him (i got this from a fic where jason and danny were soulmates on ao3, i don’t remember the name if anyone knows that fic tell me.)

the batboys and girls acting as uncles and aunts to ellie and/or dan.

comparing crazy family shenanigans.

/each way could be an entire fic really but im to lazy to be fully invested in writing these as actual fics with good grammar and consistent updates./

feel free to use these ideas, but tag me if you do i really wanna what others come up with.

#dp x dc #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #jason todd #batfam #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #jazz fenton #dpxdc #dpxdc au #dp x dc fanfic #Dead Twins

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suzukiblu · 8 days

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Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Jan behind the cut; mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

The hour goes pretty quick, either way, and Kon mostly keeps the kids distracted, and even a little bit entertained. He’s a performer at heart anyway, so he figures it’s his responsibility.

If it's not, he's gonna make it his responsibility, at least for the next hour.

A lot of people clear out of the camp in that hour in erratic fits and spurts, with alternate versions of their families or friends or just themselves, and Kon feels a little better about the idea of clearing out himself. He'll keep an ear on the camp until it's all cleared out, for sure, but at least he thinks it should be okay to leave it.

Jon needs–somebody, yeah, before something happens. Something always happens, when you're wearing the “S”.

Or you just find something that you have to happen to. Like, ethically speaking or whatever.

Kon figures he can keep an eye on Jon until either they all get home or this reality's Superman notices he's got an extra kid around. Assuming he's got a Jon here to recognize the heartbeat of, anyway. He probably does, if Kon's around and recognizable in the tabloids. Like, the timeline should be to that point, is all. And obviously Lois is gonna be a thing, so–yeah, he's gotta have a Jon by now. Maybe actually an older one than this one, come to think, but it's not like Clark wouldn't recognize his heartbeat anyway. Perfect recall and all, and he's had Jon's heartbeat memorized all his life.

Kon's pretty sure Clark still doesn't know his, but . . .

Never mind. Not important. Stupid thing to think about.

To care about.

Kon swallows. Keeps grinning for the kids, keeps coming up with new games for them to play, and waves goodbye to each one who gets collected by an aid worker and taken to whoever’s come to take care of them.

He wonders, again, if Ma and Pa would've come for him, if . . .

Stupid. Really, really stupid.

He wouldn't bother them with something that stupid anyway. He's a superhero. And he can take care of himself. He always has, hasn't he?

He'll take care of himself here too, even if . . .

Even if . . .

Kon tries not to think about . . . Kara. About Karen. Or “Paige”, or whatever she's going by now.

If she's still alive to be going by it, anyway.

If he isn't currently following in her footsteps, and won't ever see his reality again. Or her. Or . . . anyone he knows.

People who look like them, sure. People who came from the same concept of a person as them.

But not his own versions of them.

Not the versions who he belongs to.

He doesn't know what he'll do, if he can't get home this time.

He doesn’t . . .

He feels Rita approaching with his TTK–recognizes the shape of her body and the cut of her hair and the specific chip in the corner of her clipboard–and glances towards her, and is mildly surprised by who she’s with. It’s someone he definitely recognizes, but it’s not anyone he expected. At least not here and now, anyway.

“Your ride’s here, sir!” Rita says, looking as relieved as every aid worker who’s come up with a local host for somebody. Well–understandably, he figures.

“Hey, Rita. Hey, Alfie! No rest for the wicked, or just too many cooks in the kitchen again?” Kon greets with a grin, which is the easiest code phrase to use here that Tim gave him to start off with if he ever ran into an interdimensional Bat and the local Tim’s obviously gotta be the one who sent him, and Jon grabs onto his sleeve and blurts: “It’s dark this morning!”

Okay, Kon doesn’t recognize that one, but it’s definitely a Bat-phrase too. Jon was not particularly smooth about making it smooth, for one thing.

Alfred–impeccable as always in the full buttling uniform that Kon has maybe only seen him out of twice, and both of those times were blood-drenched emergency situations–smiles at them both without visibly reacting past that, though Kon hears his heartbeat spike in recognition. Since he was presumably expecting to see the pair of them, or at least him, Kon can only assume that’s code-phrase-related.

“Hello, Master Bruce,” Alfred says, smooth and pleasant, and Kon . . . blinks. “Please allow me to escort you and your young charge to the manor.”

Wait.

What?

“Uh,” Kon says slowly. “O . . . kay? Uh–thanks, Alfie.”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred says, and his pleasant smile turns just a little less polite and a little more sincere. “Interdimensionally displaced or not, we’d hate to leave you out in the cold. No matter what time of night it is.”

Well, “out in the cold” is what Tim told him to look for in response to “no rest for the wicked”, and he’s betting the “time of night” comment is meant for Jon from the way the kid perked up at hearing it, so . . . yeah, alright then. This is apparently just what’s happening now.

#jan #wip: mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees

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justinspoliticalcorner · 8 days

Text

Mary L. Trump at The Good in Us Substack:

Normally, my issue with the corporate media is their failure to shine a light on stories that matter. But in this case, it seems some segments of the corporate media, primarily Fox, is hellbent on helping Donald interfere with his trial through jury intimidation. It’s a disturbing reality that we must confront. Last night, Donald Trump posted the following on social media: “They are catching undercover liberal activists lying to the judge,” Jesse Watters.

Lawyers and legal analysts like Ryan Goodman and Andrew Weissman made it clear that this was a serious breach, the most serious to date, of Judge Merchan’s gag order – one that should be dressed immediately. The fact that Donald was quoting somebody else is irrelevant. This seemed to be a blatant case of jury tampering, especially since, at the time of this was posted, five jurors and all six alternates remained to be chosen. I fully expected today’s proceedings to begin with the judge announcing that the so-called Sandoval hearing, which he originally scheduled, would be held today before any other court business. This seemed to be a reasonable assumption considering the purpose of that hearing was so the judge can rule on the prosecution’s contention that Donald should be held in contempt and sanctioned accordingly.

Juror Number 2 dismissed

It’s not uncommon for a juror to be chosen and subsequently let go during the selection process. That was the case with Juror Four after the prosecution discovered the man may have been untruthful in some of his answers. Juror Two’s circumstances were different. She was excused after telling the court that she’d become concerned that her identity might be discovered after her family and friends questioned her about her possible involvement in the trial following media coverage. The fact that the judge felt the need to keep the identities of jurors anonymous is a damning indictment of the criminal defendant. And clearly the jurors understand the inherent danger of being seated on this jury.

To put this in perspective, my friend and former U.S. Attorney, Joyce White Vance explained, “Typically, you would only see that happen in a case involving violent organized crime.” Following the juror’s feedback, Judge Merchan reprimanded the press for reporting far too much information about the jurors. [Out of an abundance of caution, I deleted the section about the jurors from last night’s post.]

[...] In a disturbing display of media influence, Fox host Jesse Watters went through the list of jurors, with identifying characteristics like employment, gender, place of residence, and commented on each one.

Watters then singled out any jurors who didn’t align with his idea of what a juror should be (pro-Donald) and cast doubt on their ability to be fair and impartial. This is not just unethical, it’s dangerous. Fox, on Donald’s behalf, is actively helping Donald create an atmosphere of fear among the jurors. In a just world, Watters would be fired for his irresponsible behavior, but Fox has no interest in justice. Consider what Josh Kovensky of Talking Points Memo, pointed out: “Instead of operating within the process of jury selection, which assumes that people are capable of setting aside whatever political beliefs or biases they may have in order to render a good faith judgment on the evidence, it casts the assumptions underlying that process as Trump’s enemy to be defeated, implying that the jurors themselves are incapable of both being impartial in their judgment of him and participating in a political system in which he is a main actor.”

[...]

Donald amplifies Fox, scares a juror, and breaks his gag order

So far, here’s the pattern: A Fox personality attacks the judge or jury, and then Donald shares it on Truth Social as a way to give himself plausible deniability: He can distance himself from the quote by saying it doesn’t represent what he actually believes. This is exactly what he did last night when he quoted Jesse Watters. Regardless of Donald’s attempts to pretend otherwise, this is a clear violation of his gag order and shows a blatant disregard for the legal process. He needs to be punished or this will spiral out of control quickly. We’re already seeing that his disrespectful behavior in the courtroom and flouting of norms — like refusing to stand when the prospective jurors enter the room or using his phone when nobody else is —has already gone too far. The gag order was imposed to prevent Donald from publicly speaking about witnesses, jurors, court staff and their families outside of the courtroom. Donald has run out of chances and his downfall will be of his own making.

[...]

Judge Merchan must lay the smackdown on Donald

Prosecutors have accused Donald of violating the court-imposed gag order SEVEN times since the commencement of the trial. And they will have a chance to make the case for Donald to be held accountable during a hearing next week. They have pointed to public statements and social media posts made by Donald over the past few days as evidence of these violations. They have described the situation as “ridiculous” and have called for it to stop, expressing frustration over Donald’s repeated breaches of the order. Former federal prosecutor Shannon Wu has now called on Merchan to strengthen the gag order to any communication about the trial beyond Donald saying he’s innocent and plans to defend himself. At the very least, Judge Merchan needs to be unequivocal in telling Donald and defense counsel that enough is enough. The repeated violations of the gag order and Donald’s attempts to interfere with the trial warrant serious repercussions. He cannot keep getting away with it.

Mary L. Trump writes in her Substack on how right-wing media outlets (esp. Fox's Jesse Watters) and Donald Trump are conducting witness tampering on the jury for the Trump falsification of business records trial. Trump Trial

#Jury Tampering #Witness Tampering #Donald Trump #Jesse Watters #People of New York v. Trump #Donald Trump Trial #Juan Manuel Merchan #Mary L. Trump #Mary Trump

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juminies · 4 months

Text

in order to get to the heart

marriage of convenience, on occasion, is not so convenient.

♡ — jumin x original female character. small amounts of canon compliant jumin x reader, but mostly canon divergent (jumin is unhappily married prior to the start of the game). 1600 words. title from heartlines by florence + the machine.

They just say anything to each other these days.

“This façade drains me beyond comprehension,” Jumin confesses the minute he walks through the door. His fingers loop into the knot of his tie and pull it looser around his neck.

“So you say,” murmured half into a cushion tucked up to a woman’s chest as she types on her phone. “It’s not for our benefit though, is it?”

On some level, this is always how it was going to be for Jumin, he thinks. In a marriage stripped to its fragile bones. A sacrificial lamb for the sake of the corporation, for mutual social and financial gain.

He leans down to untie his shoes.

It would be untrue to say there weren’t veiled attempts, in the beginning, to love. When that didn’t work there were attempts to like. None successful, of course. Lately it’s becoming more difficult to believe this arrangement is better than any alternative. Between the two of them there is a lot of nothing.

The woman remains quiet—focused—but nods easily against the woven fabric she’s leaning into when Jumin asks, “Do you not get tired of coming home from work to find me occupying your space?”

He knows that in public they look good together. He knows that their careers slot together effortlessly. Despite what the media may suggest, however, they are human. Jumin included. The way he feels nothing for her does not match the way she feels nothing for him. The way she yells that he is robotic does not match the way he stoically calls her irresponsible.

They do not sleep together, or eat together, or do any of the romantic things Jumin wishes he hadn’t let himself privately indulge in the idea of. And it’s not that she’s not nice—she’s intelligent and beautiful and kind, when it suits her. Perfect on paper until she wasn’t. When she laughs with her chest Jumin can almost imagine a world where she smiles at him like she does others and it makes his heart weak. Part of him wishes, truly, that that was the case. In reality it feels like nothing.

It could be worse, he tells himself—repeats it like a mantra.

Concealed beneath it is fear. You could be like him. You could repeat his mistakes.

She throws her phone haphazardly onto the sofa beside her and looks up to where Jumin is standing in the doorway. He’s mostly backlit from the light in the hall, the lamp beside his wife barely grazing his features but lighting up hers in all the wrong ways. The orange glow casts unpleasant shadows over places she’s usually pretty. He should have the bulb changed to something less harsh.

“Not much we can do if you don’t want the press to kick up a huge fuss, sweetie,” she says.

The pet names are a jest he has learned to tune out.

“Will they not make a fuss over our divorce in three years’ time nonetheless?” Jumin asks. It’s hypothetical, of course. They will.

“Maybe we’ll have grown on each other by then.” Her tone is disinterested; feels almost mocking. Her phone chimes to let her know her driver is outside. “I’m going out. Shall I take my card or yours?”

“It makes little difference to me.” Jumin looks at his watch. It’s almost 10pm but he doesn’t ask where she’s going. A bar, perhaps.

“Could you adjust my necklace?”

She holds her hair up messily, and he does.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he tells her, then briefly wonders if she’ll meet someone tonight and sleep with them. He pictures her naked beneath a stranger. It feels like nothing.

She takes her own card and squeezes his bicep softly as she walks by him on the way out. She shuts the door more forcefully than is ever really necessary.

At some point Jumin suggests she move out of their—his—apartment and into the one directly below; just recently made vacant. He probably would have suggested it earlier had the apartment been available earlier, but their district of Seoul tends to be under high demand.

“I thought we agreed it was a bad idea to live separately,” she says. It’s a statement, not a question. They had done exactly that.

Jumin hums, tired. Tired from his trip and tired from trying and at some point, it seems, he has lost an indistinguishable part of himself to her for good.

“We did. Although I would say that that was long enough ago now for us both to have become quite aware that we do not do particularly well sharing the same space for considerable periods of time.”

“You’re gone a lot anyway. The place is big enough for us to avoid each other if needed, and I like it here.”

She exhales sharply; amused.

Jumin has no idea why until she adds, “More so when you’re not around, to be fair.” And that explains it, just about.

“Stay here when I am travelling if you must,” he tells her. Somewhere along the way his suggestion has morphed into more of an instruction.

“Fine. Don’t tell your father, though. Or mine.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They buy it outright in her name, the cost split fifty-fifty. Jumin tells her to keep it all when she sells it later. She tells him she won’t.

They argue tonight, as usual, about who will be chauffeuring them to a company gala. They had agreed that Jumin’s driver would take them only for her to assert for the hundredth time at the last minute that she doesn’t trust him, though she has not legitimately spoken to him more than once and he has been working for Jumin’s family longer than she has been alive.

It’ll cause a stir if the two of them show up separately so they end up in her car, as usual. Jumin apologises to Driver Kim via text for requesting him when he wasn’t needed on the way there, and they arrive late.

The venue reminds Jumin of the last RFA party. His wife had not attended despite her invitation, so it is not proper grounds for conversation. However, when they are out like this they are a happy couple like the legal drabble says, so he says it anyway—if just to appear interested in her.

“I’m sure this is nicer than your friends’ charity get togethers,” she replies lightheartedly, and they are called over by her father before Jumin can retaliate.

The façade stays firm for the remainder of the event. Jumin can easily distinguish her fake laugh from her real one, and he can tell when she forgets who he is for a moment and touches him a little more tenderly than either of them really mean.

They are silent on the drive home. They are silent in the elevator, until it stops one floor below Jumin’s penthouse. “Goodnight,” he says. “Sleep well.”

“You don’t have to say that, you know,” she counters, and smiles softly as the doors slide shut between them. “Not when it’s just me.”

Elizabeth the 3rd is snoring softly when he unlocks his door, and it is the only sound he can hear. He basks in the bliss of having nobody around when he is already so mentally exhausted, and takes out his phone to see it’s just after midnight and Yoosung has opened a chat room.

He enters it, multitasking as he changes his clothes and brushes his teeth. His cat patters into the room and jumps up beside him when he perches on the edge of his bed. She smells frustratingly like perfume and something oddly like guilt threatens Jumin with a dull blade.

Wait!! says Luciel. Think someone entered the chat room.

Jumin checks. There is a name on his screen he doesn’t recognise.

Odd.

Who are you? Identify yourself.

“Jumin. It’s me,” your voice is soft and bubbly; maybe a little nervous but still pleasant on his ears. An intriguing introduction. He almost finds himself chuckling.

Jumin moves the phone from his ear and glances down at your name again, just to be certain he’s not imagining things, then focuses in on the plainness of the wall in front of him.

“I hope you realise blurting out ‘It’s me’ is not a proper way to identify yourself to the person on the other end of the line.”

He had hesitated briefly before telling you he is married. Now he has known you for five days and whatever he’s feeling is somehow, ridiculously, already far greater than any emotion he has ever felt towards his wife.

He invites her out for dinner at their usual restaurant the following evening, and she tells him if he has something to discuss with her she would rather keep it simple. As an alternative he invites her to the penthouse and opens a bottle of wine he knows she likes. When she arrives her hair is tied up experimentally and she is wearing a new shade of lipstick. She surprises him when she actually accepts his offer to pour her a glass.

“I am going to talk with my father,” Jumin says, and she knows what he means. It’s only later that he will find out she had already brought it up with hers. “For what it’s worth, however, I apologise that it ended up like this.”

“Me too,” she agrees. Jumin notices the light catch a glassiness in her eyes as she continues, “If I could have loved you, I would have.”

She stays for a few hours and it is the most sincere time they have spent together in three years.

That night, Zen has a dream.

#mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin x reader #anyway. [replaces your sarah choi]#I just love putting him in situations 🩷#I gave the oc lore in my head even though I'll very likely never write about her again #her name is yeeun kwon and she's the daughter of a chaebol family that chairman han has close connections to :)#I didn't share anything about her in this on purpose though #something something narrative #annfic

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seneon · 10 months

Note

I'm so sorry i didn't know about this lmao >¬<

Can You please do a Abyss x reader oneshot ? (i don't know for an idea I'm really bad for idéa sorry T-T) but whatever You write i know it would be amazing <3

I really don't know what to say sorry ahah :')

featuring. abyss razor x fem! reader — oneshot.

genre. romance | fuedal japan! alternate universe.

synopsis. in which, abyss was sent on a mission to capture an infamous criminal but in reality, he saves her.

notes. 1.8k words | taken and edited from my oneshot book ANGELS in wattpad. this is originally a kamui (gintama) and rin oneshot. anyways, abyss is actually so pretty 😭😭

abyss razor roamed through the underground red light districts of yoshiwara — old tokyo, with the samurai lord he served under, abel walker.

they were oblivious to it, but women had their eyes on the fellow samurai.

the ladies whispered among themselves, wondering who these attractive young men were.

the samurai men had striking features, good height, their eyes, and overall, their serious demeanour. they wore fine clothing, showing everyone they work for the shogun, prominent and the best in their field.

a mission was what the two were on, in seacrh of a few criminals to murder. each samurai was given a different task, abel receiving the more brutal and heinous criminals and abyss receiving orders to search for intel.

but abyss never intended to search for intel upon stepping foot in this... all glorious district of endless entertainment.

it bore him to know that many samurai came here to have fun with women and drink their night away, immediately spotting a few rivals of his, drinking.

abyss' sole purpose of coming here was to find for a certain woman.

ah . . . a woman that held a great place in his organ called heart. never would abyss himself thought he would be looking forward in a search for her, a recently known villain.

"abyss, go west. i will search east. we return at six in the middle of four directions," abel said before vanishing in a flash, heading to the east for his mission.

the said male scanned the area and started to move his feet to collect as many information on you as he can.

there were oiran making their way to customers of prominence, dancers, sake, music and light all around the place. it was a place abyss wasn't very fond of, for he preferred silence and a time to solitary.

what he needed now was a change of clothes. citizens had their eyes on the samurai, growing weary of his idea of being in a red light district. so he went to the nearest shop to buy a cheap kimono to disguise himself.

abyss quickly picked up the clues that was given to him as a starter from the palace. now he has a lead, that you were a master in disguise, and there was a well-known brothel that recently recruited a skillful courtesan.

that brothel was the first place he went to as a normal customer looking for a service.

"greetings. may i ask for kitsuhime oiran?" he asked the receptionist, as the male shook his head.

"kitsuhime-sama is currently serving a customer, but our other courtesans are available for you, sir."

"it's alright. when will she be free? i'll pay you in gold for an audience with her."

the receptionist hesitated to answer the offer abyss gave him. it had not been the first time men had brought up gold for their best courtesan in their service.

"uh, she should be free in two days. if you could wait sir, we'll—"

"how does a hundred gold sound to you?"

"uhm... i'm not sure if that's how it works.."

"a hundred and fifty."

"sir.."

"excuse me, what is going on?" another male voice asked, standing beside abyss in hopes on lending a hand to the troubled.

the receptionist perked up in hope. "ah! haru-sama! this fellow customer wanted an audience with kitsuhime-sama, and he keeps raising the wage. i don't know what to do..."

the male whom the blue-haired male assumed was a high ranking staff in this brothel placed his fingers on his chin, thinking hardly. his dark red scanned from top to bottom, before letting out a sigh. "guess there's no choice. did you bring the goods?"

rin nodded, stashing a bag of gold onto the table. "when can i meet the courtesan?"

"right now. her schedule is empty, since her customer went out for a small errand," haru said as he quickly counted the gold. "one hundred fourty two, three... one fifty... deal. you have fifteen minutes at most. this way, sir."

the male with red eyes led abyss through the huge brothel and abyss wished he at least waxed his ears temporarily from the erotic sounds he kept hearing throughout the whole place.

he felt relieved when they ascended, the noises disappearing behind them. abyss believed they were heading to the highest and most off-limits floors, a high-class area.

haru stopped at the room right at the end of the floor, opening the door while stepping aside for the customer to head in. he walked in after abyss, shutting the door behind him.

abyss grew alert at the sound of the door shutting, his eyes looking around the room.

"kitsuhime-sama! you have an unexpected audience," haru said, abyss taking a glance behind to have his eyes widened in sheer shock.

he froze at the sight of haru slowly peeling himself off. only to reveal a completely different person underneath it.

abyss couldn't see who it was, for the male was peeling off the skin on his face. e/c eyes then flashed under the moonlight, fingers moving to remove the wig.

a chill ran down abyss' spine, like tiny spiders crawling down his skin. the moment it was revealed who was under it, he couldn't help but remembered old memories that seemed to get more prominent now that he sees a familiar face.

how long has it been since he saw that face? the same old smirk that he recognised since childhood, and the eyes that held so many dreams, only to be crushed right in front of him.

"care for a round of sake?" you asked, your smirk turning into a slight smile.

the razor was too stunned to speak at the sight of seeing you for the first time in all these years. you were a criminal now, working as a courtesan, and disguised as a man...?

everything was spinning around him. he didn't know what to do, so he simply nodded and sat down on the cushion laid out for customers and a courtesan to have a chat.

it was quiet, sentimental, as you carefully and gracefully poured japanese alcohol into both cups, handing one to abyss. he picked it up and drank it, still registering what had happened.

"why have you come here?" you asked, gaze on the samurai, "i thought you didn't like red light districts."

it was quiet again. you sipped on your alcohol, never taking your eyes off of the man you haven't seen for a long time.

he was as beautiful as you remember, a child connected to the moon in a way that it favours him. even if his eyes were eyepatched from a battle wound. abyss is even more beautiful now, his features chiseled and you could tell he had been doing some hard work.

"i'm on a mission. you are one of the shogun's targets."

"and you've became a shogun dog," you never let him finished. shutting your eyes while feeling the most ease, you sighed.

abyss felt his eyes twitched at your answer, but he kept his cool and set down the sake cup. "i became one to receive top notch training. to find you, and follow you until the ends of the earth."

it was your turn to be caught off-guard. it seems like he hadn't forget about the promise they made during childhood after all.

"as courtesan, may i have my valued customer's name?" you asked, wanting to hear him said it himself.

"abyss razor."

it ringed around your ears, inside your mind and down to the core of your memories. you knew who he was, yet hearing him said it himself was . . . different.

abyss!

a little girl, no more than the age of nine would call out for the boy who was staring at the black heavens that was filled with twinkling little life.

she would twirl around and capture abyss into a deadly hug, releasing to then plop herself beside him. wherein little abyss would be flushed red and continue his stargazing.

"hey abyss, when you grow up, what do you want to do or be?" she asked, and the little razor would soon fell deep into his thoughts.

"hmm... i want to be like abel-san! i want to be a cool man who's going to be a samurai and protect everyone i love. like mom and dad, abel-san... and you!" he gave her a goofy smile. "you?"

it was little y/n's turn to think for a while. and when she found the perfect answer, she returned the same childish grin he gave her. "i'll go with you anywhere!!"

lies.

she was taken away months after those words came out. oh how abyss fell into ultimate despair seeing her getting taken away by the shogun's officials. her eyes only held the look of fear, tears running down her cheeks.

"i'll be a strong samurai and protect you! then i'll follow you wherever you go! i promise, y/n!" abyss could only shout his little throat out, his older friend, abel, holding him back from any more harm the officials might inflict.

abyss couldn't defeat the people that took away his only friend. he was simply too weak, a mere child with the brightest dreams.

who knew the person he looked up to the most would also leave him to volunteer in a recruitment for new generation samurai?

everything was ruined, so much that abyss' mind became twisted and he too, would soon join the next recruitment to search for you. only to find that you are now a criminal.

your eyes stared at the table contents of a tea set. throat becoming dryer and dryer as seconds passed by. "i'm a murderer now. what are you going to do?" it turned intense and heavy around the atmosphere.

".. i don't care. you simply killed the men that tried assaulting you back in the palace right? that is nothing," he said coolly, pouring for the both of you another drink. "i plan to retire to make the shogun mad anyways."

"so, will you come with me?"

you chuckled at his words. things had certainly changed, abyss too, for he had grown way more mature than you are compared to your childhood days.

it all felt so nostalgic, to be speaking to the razor the same as you both did back then.

"i will."

a smile unconsciously crawled up to abyss' lips, portraying a beauty you hadn't seen in forever. such a work of art, indeed.

if the woman sitting in front of him knew what he was thinking about, you were definitely, most certainly the y/n that abyss was looking for.

there was no mistaking it. you were the light to his darkness. and even if you committed a crime or two, it was all for abyss and a promise.

you elegantly stood up, a habit picked up from the brothel owner that brought you in to keep your disguise.

"but first. i just want you to know this place is a disguise itself. everyone here has committed a crime before, even customers. it's my home."

"sounds like a you thing to do. now then, shall we abandon everything and head for a run? i don't want to be seen as a samurai any longer ," he stood up, holding a hand out.

you immediately accepted it with a smile, "we shall, abyss."

"perfect."

istg if anyone talks or mentions about raiden shogun or whoever tf she is, i will literally send you paragraphs to educate you that shogun doesn't only exist in genshin impact and it's actually history in japan 💀

#🎥 senreqs #mashle #mashle x reader #abyss #abyss razor #abyss x reader #abyss razor x reader #mashle hcs #abel walker #mashle abyss

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madychi · 2 years

Text

List of ROTTMNT headcanons/rando ideas I will maybe draw!

Disaster Twins edition!

Okay, so I personally think they could be actual twins and canon could explain it as a mutation effect do it you cowards-

Donnie and Leo share a brain cell, Donnie just hoards it 99% of the time. But that 1% of the time Leo has it is beautiful (chaotic).

They absolutely could finish each other’s sentences, and sometime do without realizing it.

As tots they could practically read each others mind, and while they can’t as much anymore if one is asking for something but can’t remember what it’s called the other will know what the other needs.

If they tried hard enough. They could use twin telepathy. They stopped doing it after Leo used it to rickroll Donnie for three hours straight.

If they were to switch weapons they would be able to use the others weapon easily, its a twin thing.

They always dress identically without trying too. Sometimes they shrug it off and go with it. Other times they’re like “well one of us has to change.”

Leo is the only person that has the honor, nay the privilege, to touch Donnie’s softshell without having to ask. He also has the privilege to rest on it during turtle piles.

They can sing any Brittney spears song from memory flawlessly.

Leo most definitely came across a softshell turtle cooking video, watched it in absolute horror, and proceeded to latch onto Donnie for the rest of the week. (Totally not something I did-)

As the taller twin Leo has claimed the older twin role. In reality they hatched at the exact same time.

Donnie only denies being Leo’s twin as a front, people can’t know he has… feelings (dramatic gasp). Leo knows this and likes the “arguments” over whether their twins or not just so he can saw random not facts to make Donnie mad.

In the apocalyptic future of the ROTTMNT movie, Leo felt when Donnie died. It was like a part of him was suddenly missing. He was likely in battle when it happened, and that feeling made him collapse and break down in the middle of the fight. Needless to say he was not surprised when April gave him the news, just saying “I already knew… its a twin thing. Was a twin thing…”

Alternatively, when Leo sacrificed himself and was trapped in the prison dimension Donnie felt a similar feeling. While it wasn’t as bad as it would’ve been had Leo died, it still left Donnie feeling hollow inside.

And since I can’t end this on angst-

As Turtle Tots, Leo found out about conjoined twins and wanted in. It took a bit of convincing, but after claiming it would be a fun experiment, talked Donnie into make a machine to fuse them together. They were conjoined at the hip for a month because someone (*cough* Mikey *cough*) ‘accidentally’ used the machine as a chew toy. Donnie still has that machine, for research. Obviously.

Pt 2: Here

#rottmnt #rottmnt headcanons #disaster twins #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt disaster twins #make disaster twins canon you cowards!#turtle tots #rottmnt turtle tots

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collapsedglasshouses · 6 months

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An Angel For Noah || Noah Sebastian x OC [Part 7]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Jules [she/her]

MASTERPOST

SUMMARY: Right when Noah thought there was no way back to sanity, it got even crazier.

WARNINGS: angst, tiny bit of tension, ...

A/N: Hello my lovely little people... Sometimes I struggle to find words for the authors note and it gives me anxiety so imma just tell you the same thing as always... Thank you for every single notification I get on this series... I love it so much and am glad that you do it too. Enjoy reading the new chapter!

TAGLIST: @trvshdxddy @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @measuredingold @cncohshit @signs-of-ill-portent @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @ada-clarence @wild-child-7747

If you wanna be added to the taglist of this story, please DM me or let me know in the comments!

Keep in mind, this takes place in an alternative universe. Even though I write about real people, the way I write them has nothing to do with how they are in real life.

The coffee shop, nestled in a quiet corner of the city the band currently stayed at, radiated a warm and cozy atmosphere. It was a strong contrast to the cool early fall weather outside. The large bay windows were slightly fogged up. Soft music played in the background, setting the perfect ambiance for a quiet and relaxed afternoon coffee.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked pastries. People huddled over steaming cups, their conversations hushed and punctuated by the gentle clinking of porcelain. Each table was decorated with a flickering candle, casting dancing shadows across the room.

In the corner, bathed in the soft glow of a table lamp, sat Noah. His gaze was fixed on the raindrops, from the rain that had just stopped, racing each other down the glass. He was lost in his world of thoughts. The lines on his face hinted at the weight of his concerns, and the gentle sigh that escaped his lips carried the weight of a thousand unsolved mysteries.

Noah's mind was racing. Thoughts swirled like a turbulent storm, and he couldn't find a moment of respite. The constant barrage of worries, doubts, and how he felt when he saw that girl filled every what so little place of his consciousness, leaving him in a state of unrest. Every time he tried to focus on a single idea or find a fleeting moment of peace, it slipped through his grasp like sand running through his fingers.

Noah was so frustrated with himself. He wasn't performing as he wanted to and all because of a ghost hunting his mind. Not even the freshly brewed coffee in front of him made him feel better.

When Noah let his gaze wander off in the café again, he nearly choked on his coffee, his heart racing as he spotted her. At the counter stood a woman, her silhouette graceful and mysterious. Her long, flowing black hair laid perfectly on her shoulders, framing a face that had haunted his dreams for so long. Her deep eyes, held a hidden universe of emotions, mirroring the turmoil in his own heart.

As he observed her from afar, she fidgeted nervously with her fingers, a charming yet anxious gesture that made her seem more real than any dream. He couldn't help but wonder if this was another vivid hallucination. But her presence in the café, her tangible form, left him utterly shocked. How the hell could she be here?

The world around him seemed to blur as she slowly made her way to his table, each step bringing her closer to him. His heart pounded in his chest, and he questioned the reality of the moment. It was as if the boundaries between dream and waking life had become indistinct, and he couldn't be sure if this was a fantasy or a genuine encounter.

Noah's mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He wanted to reach out, to touch her and make sure she was real, to unravel the mystery that surrounded her. Yet, his uncertainty held him back, as if he feared the moment might shatter like fragile glass.

The woman finally reached his table, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of hesitation and longing. The air between them crackled with unspoken words, with weeks of yearning and unfulfilled desire to know the truth.

Noah's voice trembled as he whispered her name, a mixture of awe and disbelief in his words. "Jules."

She gazed into his eyes, a complex mix of angst and confusion flickering across her face. Her voice was barely more than a breath as she replied, "Noah."

In that moment, they were no longer bound by his dreams. He was sure he wasn't turning insane. He knew he hadn't just imagined her. They were two individuals, sharing the same space and time, their connection more reachable than ever before. Noah couldn't help but feel that their destinies were intertwined in a way he had never imagined or even believed in before.

"We need to talk." Was all Jules needed to say as Noah's words broke out of him. He instantly told her everything, no matter how insane he sounded in that moment.

He told her of his strange feelings, he couldn't shake. He told her about his dreams. He told her about his feeling that even his best friend didn't quite understand how he felt. He told her everything even though he felt like he was crazy, while she set there and listened. She listened like she always did while her heart ached. She couldn't quite comprehend how hard she had messed up Noah's life with her doings.

The atmosphere of the coffee shop had changed as Noah and Jules faced each other, the air thick with tension. Noah had just shared the details of a dream where he saw a glimpse of Jules' past life. Jules looked both curious and bewildered, unsure of how to respond to what Noah was saying. When she was being honest with herself, she didn't even know what she wanted to say to Noah when she first set down.

"You dreamed about me?" Jules asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

Noah nodded, a mixture of determination and frustration in his tone. "Yes, and it's not just that. I've been dreaming about you even before you saved me from that car. You appear in so many of my dreams, and it's really confusing."

Jules leaned in, her forehead wrinkling in thought. She sighed at the bizarre situation that formed between them. They were talking as if they had known each other for years while she was as dead as it gets and he hadn't known a thing about her just months before.

"Noah, I wish I could help you get the truth you deserve. But- I don't fully understand it myself." She tried to explain.

Noah's frustration grew as he grappled with the mystery surrounding Jules. He needed answers and was beginning to doubt the entire situation. "I need to know, Jules. Who the fuck are you, really? I don't want to think you're some kind of strange stalker or... I don't know, but this is all so weird. I can't explain it."

The words hung in the air as Jules tried to find the right words, and he wished he could take his back. He had no right to be aggressive. It was more than clear that she had no clue either and they needed to get over what ever kind of magic this was.

Jules reached out but last minute decided against grabbing his hand. She cleared her throat before trying to reassure him. "I don't have all the answers, Noah, and this situation is as confusing for me as it is for you. I'm here to protect you, to watch over you, and I promise I'm not a stalker or anything like that and you know that too. Our connection is beyond what you... or we can understand, and I'm still trying to get clarity in this confusing mess myself."

Noah gazed into her eyes, searching for the truth. He knew there was something extraordinary about their bond, something that defied logic known to humans. Even though he felt silly, his heart and instincts told him to trust Jules, even though his rational mind struggled to make sense of it all.

With a sigh, he relented, his voice softer as he admitted, "I may not understand it, Jules, but I can't help that I feel safe with you. It's just... all of this is so overwhelming. I can't concentrated. It's like this whole thing corrupted my mind. You know?"

Jules nodded, her understanding gaze unwavering. "I know it's overwhelming, Noah, and I promise I'll do my best to understand this all. But there is something we both need to do for our own good"

Noah looked confused.

"This." Jules waved between them. "Can never happen again."

Noah's heart instantly started to race when he thought about what her sentence meant. He knew it would be best but he couldn't let this happen. Almost as if she would leave any moment, he grabbed her hand.

As soon as they touched, a powerful yet unexplainable sensation washed over both of them, leaving them momentarily breathless. From Noah's perspective, it felt as if an electric current rushed through him, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to the mysterious woman before him. It was as if their souls had recognized each other, and the connection they shared became even more profound. It felt like in all those corny rom-com movies that he despiced.

Jules, on the other hand, experienced a shock of emotions and memories flooding back to her. She couldn't fully comprehend what was happening, but she felt a profound sense of familiarity and comfort when her hand connected with Noah's. If she didn't know better, she would have said she felt alive. It was as if their souls were intertwined, and the connection felt almost addictive.

Noah and Jules locked eyes, a shared understanding passing between them.

"Don't leave." Noah almost whimpered out, causing Jules to feel another rush through her body. Her mind was hazed with the emotions breathing life in her body. She knew she needed to get away from him. Lurk in his shadow again. Never show herself again. She knew this would end in total chaos. Not a single time was ever reported where a guardian angel just hung out with their person.

Right as she was about to decline his begging words, he squeezed her hand again, making her whole body tingle with sensation she never felt before. "Please, Jules. Just one day. I beg you."

Noah didn't even know what has gotten into him. All he could think about was how good he felt. He hadn't felt this good for months if not years. His mind was hazed with the thought of her. How he instantly got lost in her eyes. How he was intrigued to know everything about this mysterious woman. How he couldn't lose her.

Jules looked in his undeniable beautiful dark eyes as she swallowed hard. She had fucked up bad but when she looked at him like that she knew she couldn't go back. She didn't want to go back. She needed him just as much as he needed her.

"One day. After that we'll never see each other again." Right as the words slipped over her lips, she knew she lied.

She couldn't deny Noah anything, even if she tried.

PART EIGHT COMING SOON

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fanfic #collapsedglasshouseswrites #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian x oc

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