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roosterforme · 10 days

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Aim for the Sky Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Deployments feel longer when you're alone and pregnant. You know Bradley wants to be home for all of the milestones, but you also know he trusts you to take care of yourself. That trust goes both ways when it feels like ages since you've heard from him.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You hadn't spoken to your husband in more than three weeks. Not once since he left on a deployment of undetermined length. When you were on base, tucked away in your office or working on a project in the lab, it wasn't so bad. You could almost get lost in the idea of heading home to start dinner and find him working on a project. You could nearly pretend he'd be ready to wrap you up in his arms and ask about your day. But you knew better than to drift all the way into that daydream, because he wasn't there, and you didn't know when he would be back.

At least Tramp greeted you with excitement when you walked in each day, but you suspected that was partially because he knew you were about to feed him. Your friends kept you busy on the weekends, and Jake stopped by the Craftsman on occasion with Jeremiah when Cat needed a break. Today, he even made a comment about the multitude of pallets lined up on your driveway that prevented you from pulling all the way up to where you usually parked.

"When Rooster gets back, I'll give him a hand building that jungle gym," Jake drawled as you handed a cracker to Jeremiah. "We'll have it finished in a weekend, and then Jer can test it out."

You watched Jake kiss Cat's son on the cheek as you said, "He can teach the Nugget all about the slide and the swings when the time comes." Your belly felt a little tender as you ran your hand over your shirt, loving the feel of the bump beneath your fingers. You were nineteen weeks along, and when Bradley left, you'd still looked just bloated. Now you were starting to get round in all the places that made you excited for what was to come. And after so many weeks of non stop nausea and vomiting, you were happy you could finally eat.

Jake snorted. "You've taken to calling the baby a Nugget, too? Thought that was just your husband."

You rolled your eyes and flicked his arm. "Maybe I miss him, okay? Like a lot." Your voice shook even though you were trying for a teasing tone, and Jake's features softened. You quickly asked, "Are you two staying for dinner?"

Jeremiah was such a sweet toddler, and you were so lonely today, you were hoping Jake would say yes. But he kissed you on the cheek before he said, "Not tonight. I told Cat we'd be home by six."

You just nodded, once again afraid your voice might shake. You'd be fine; it wasn't like you needed someone with you all the time. It wasn't like you couldn't get through the night.

Once they were gone, you made yourself some dinner and ate it while you stood at the kitchen counter. Occasionally you dropped some bites for Tramp who snapped them up out of the air before anything ever hit the ground.

"Don't tell your dad that this is the reason you beg at the table," you muttered as he sat next to your foot and wagged his tail wildly. Even the veterinarian didn't know exactly how old he was, but he still seemed like a puppy sometimes. You could already picture him and the baby playing together.

Your gaze caught on the newest set of ultrasound photos which you had stacked up at the end of the kitchen counter. The appointment with Dr. Morris made you cry afterwards, because Bradley wasn't there to gush over the baby. You drove his Bronco that day, and you sat quietly trying to compose yourself while enveloped in his smell. He had some older ultrasound images tucked in the sun visor, and you wanted him to see the new ones so badly, you ached.

"I'm going to get ready for bed," you groaned at Tramp even though it was still early. You took a bath with the floating thermometer Bradley bought for you to use while pregnant. You drank a can of ginger ale instead of your preferred pink champagne, and you listened to one of the playlists he made for you.

When you were climbing in bed, you took the note he left you from your nightstand. It was folded into a paper airplane that looked exactly like his tattoo. He'd even written Baby Girl on it like always. Very carefully, you unfolded it and read the short message that you already had memorized, because it just meant something more in his handwriting.

I love both of you so much, sometimes I feel like I'm dreaming. Nothing could be this good. There's no way I get to return home to everything I ever wanted. I don't know when I'll be back, so I need you to take care of yourself and the Nugget until I can take over my duties again. I won't be gone a minute longer than I need to be.

You shut your light off before your tears could fall, and Tramp snuggled in next to you. When you thought about Bradley, you pictured him in his bunk. Maybe he was alone. Maybe he was with Reuben. Maybe he was rooming with a different officer. But it didn't matter, because you could easily imagine him practically spilling out of the narrow bed, one knee bent with the pink and blue notebook propped up while he wrote to the baby.

When your phone started ringing in the pitch darkness, you jumped, practically falling out of bed as you reached for your lamp and phone at the same time. It was a FaceTime call. It said restricted caller. You screeched his name, far too loud for your voice which has been resting just seconds ago. You shoved your glasses into place so you could see him, and shouted, "Bradley! Roo! Are you okay?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he crooned, and his smiling face came into focus. You practically dropped your phone as he said, "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."

You felt giddy laughter bubbling up inside you; the idea of your husband apologizing for calling and making your whole week was absurd. "No, no, no, this is perfect," you insisted. "This is great.

Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."

"Me too," you replied. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are." You missed his warmth and voice so much. It was almost Halloween, and the nights felt way too long.

His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."

Your smile felt overpowering. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"

You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."

You propped up your phone and held up one of the photos so he could see the baby. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling better than you had in weeks. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."

"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."

You pulled the ultrasound away and gasped, "You're probably not even joking."

"I'm definitely not even joking."

You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you whispered, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."

Now you felt guilty as he nodded with his lips pressed together. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."

Tears stung your eyes. You could already imagine him holding the baby in his arms, loving him or her no matter what. "Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."

It took him a moment to respond. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."

Your heart swelled. "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."

You wanted to show him how your belly looked more curvy now, but when you and he both parted your lips to speak, you heard someone shouting in the same room as him on the aircraft carrier. Now your husband wasn't looking at you at all.

"Bradshaw! It's time. Get into your flight suit."

"Yes, Sir," Bradley said before glancing back down.

"You have to go," you sobbed, unaware that you were actually crying until you heard yourself.

"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."

"I'll be home soon," he told you earnestly. "I love you."

Then you were standing alone in your kitchen at 4:48 in the morning with tears streaming down your face. The abrupt end to the call set your nerves on edge just seconds after you had been feeling so good. You gripped the edge of your kitchen counter; that wasn't a regular call to order, that was the start of his mission you just witnessed.

There was no chance of you falling asleep again, so you let yourself cry while Tramp put his head down on your bare foot and licked your ankle.

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Halloween came, and you could barely manage to give out candy to the neighborhood kids. You'd had Bradley with you for the previous two Halloween nights in a row, and this year you didn't even want to buy a costume without him. You were exactly twenty weeks along, approximately halfway through your pregnancy, but it was hard to be excited even as groups of kids ran up and down the sidewalk.

You sat on your porch and dropped goodie bags into pillowcases and plastic pumpkins while Tramp barked inside the house. You commented on all of the cute costumes. You cried a little bit. Your emotions were all over the place as you tried to imagine what it might be like going out to collect candy a year from now with your baby in a tiny costume.

When the trick-or-treating ended, you went inside and opened a miniature sized Hershey bar for yourself, and then you almost screamed. The chocolate fell to the floor as you reached for your belly. Tramp looked between you and the fallen treat as you sank down onto your knees.

"Oh my God," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut tight. You could feel the baby moving. It was kind of a wild fluttering sensation. You rubbed your palm against your shirt a little more, and the slight movement felt like a response. Your baby was right there. "Hi, little Nugget." Then you felt something like a soft thump.

You wished more than anything that Bradley was here to witness it. He was going to absolutely freak out when he got home. Then the intrusive thoughts arrived. If he got home. It had been another week and a half since that FaceTime call where he got cut off by a commanding officer. If his mission was completed, he should have called you back by now. But at least you didn't have a fleet admiral dialing your number.

You didn't move for a long time, not until the baby seemed to get into a cozy position where the movement slowed down and then stopped. When Tramp started sniffing around the candy bar, you crawled over to it and picked it up before he could get any ideas.

Time was simultaneously at a standstill and also moving too fast. In four weeks, it would be Thanksgiving and your first wedding anniversary. You'd been holding off making plans with your parents, because you didn't know what to do. You were already overdue for your anatomy scan, dodging phone calls from Dr. Morris's office when they told you that you absolutely needed to come in for your checkup. They were starting to leave you lengthy messages about how they needed to complete the full scan to be sure there were no underlying issues.

As you walked to your bedroom, you promised yourself you'd call tomorrow and schedule an appointment. Bradley would miss finding out if the Nugget was a boy or girl, but at least you'd get to see all ten fingers and all ten toes for the first time. You could reveal the news to Bradley when you got to talk to him. You would go to your appointment, because he trusted you to take care of yourself and the baby the best that you could.

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The cafeteria was packed when you walked in with your uniform shirt untucked and your pants unbuttoned. You finally caved and ordered a maternity uniform last week, and Bickel let you cry in his office about how ugly it was before he sent you back to the lab. It should be arriving any day, but for now, you were making do.

When Nat saw you, she was on her feet heading your way immediately. "Your belly looks bigger!" she gasped, pulling you toward the table where she was sitting with Bob and Maria. "When's Rooster coming home?"

You shrugged miserably. "You think I know? I just work here."

Her laughter made you smile for the first time all day. Your nausea was back a little bit, and you were too afraid to even try to eat anything until you got home later tonight. When Nat scooted her tray closer to the edge of the table to make room for you, she asked, "Where's your lunch?"

You didn't want to lie, but you really didn't want them to pressure you to eat right now. "I think I'll just take something back upstairs with me." As you slid onto the empty spot on the bench, you asked, "Do you know if anyone has heard from Payback?"

You were met with shaking heads which didn't help your mood at all. What the hell was going on with this mission? Your tongue felt too thick, and your saliva practically made you gag as Bob said, "I thought they would have been home by now. Five weeks is a long time for a special mission."

Maria elbowed him in the side, but it's not like he was saying anything you weren't already thinking. This sickening feeling had been inside you for days where you were convinced something went wrong. You just couldn't fathom why you hadn't received a call yet.

"I know," you muttered. "It's okay." But you weren't actually sure if it was or not. It has been months since you had a panic attack where you had to spend a few hours with Dr. Genevieve, but you could feel it building up now. Worrying about Bradley and yourself and the baby all at the same time was mentally and emotionally exhausting.

You pretended to pick up a sandwich before heading toward the elevators in the lobby, and you stopped to throw up in the bathroom before you made it back to your office. Your anatomy scan was scheduled for Friday, almost three weeks after they originally wanted you to come in. If you were still feeling this anxious, you'd block off part of your schedule next week to visit Dr. Genevieve again.

Somehow, even though the only thing on your mind was talking to Bradley, you were shocked when your phone woke you up just before midnight on Wednesday evening. This time you rocketed to your feet as you yanked your phone free from the charger. It wasn't a FaceTime call. It said RESTRICTED CALLER. You braced your hand on your nightstand in the dark, and when you answered, you knew immediately that it wasn't your husband on the other end of the call.

"Hello? I'm calling on behalf of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw," came a male voice in response, and then he was asking you to confirm your personal information.

"What happened?" you gasped once he established that you really were the one and only person on Bradley's contact list. "What happened to him?"

There was a soft hum from the man, and you wanted to jump through the phone and strangle him for his lack of response. Then, as you finally managed to turn on your lamp, he said, "It looks like his flight just took off out of Hong Kong."

"Flight?" you gasped. "He's in the air?"

"Yes. A commercial flight into San Diego. He should arrive Friday morning, and I can give you the details now so someone can arrange for a ride for him."

You were baffled as to why Bradley didn't call you himself, but if he was on his way home, you didn't care. And you weren't going to arrange for a ride for him. You were going to pick him up yourself. When you grabbed a pen from your nightstand, the only paper you could find was the love note he left for you, so you started writing the flight number on your arm instead. Then you gasped and almost dropped the phone when you ended the call. There was the slightest chance he would be back in time!

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Bradley was exhausted. He knew he could sleep for two days, no problem. He would land in San Diego and hope you were there to get him, then he'd ask you if the baby was a boy or a girl, then he'd take you home and make love to you before falling the fuck asleep. He really wanted to start building the jungle gym playset, but that was just going to have to wait for another day.

It was Friday, or at least that's what he thought, and he wasn't sure how busy you had been at work, because he hadn't spoken to you in weeks. Maybe Bickel let you take the morning off. If Bradley didn't get to see you in baggage claim like he always had before, he was going to be so annoyed that he was delayed weeks longer than he should have been. This mission turned into a three part nightmare on the high seas, and all he wanted was his wife and his Nugget.

When his flight landed, he was up and out of his seat, ready to go. Of course he ended up lifting down carryon bags for a few older passengers and one woman who had two kids with her. Of course he knelt down to help someone find their reading glasses. But all he wanted was for this line of people to move it off the aircraft so he could get into the terminal and call you.

When you answered on the second ring, shouting his name into the phone, he couldn't help but smile. "I just landed, Sweetheart. Does that mean you're here to get me?"

"Yes! I'm in baggage claim! Hurry up!"

His whole body thrummed with need as he picked up his pace at the confirmation that you were here for him. "I'm coming as fast as I can," he promised, squeezing between two groups of people walking way too slowly. He wanted to know if you took the day off. There were a hundred questions circling his brain, but the first one that he needed an answer to was, "How's my Nugget?"

He could hear the smile in your voice as you said, "Your little Nugget is thriving, Roo. But get over here and see for yourself!"

"Baby Girl," he laughed, jogging a little faster. "I'm coming."

"Hurry," you whined, and he needed to give you what you wanted.

He bypassed the crowded escalator and took the stairs as quickly as he could, skidding around a corner as he turned toward baggage claim. "Almost there," he panted into the phone. And then he saw you and groaned, "Fuck," loud enough that a few people shot him nasty looks. "Holy shit, Sweetheart."

Bradley ended the call as you glanced around, and he stumbled when you finally spotted him. You were wearing a new dress. It was a pretty shade of green, and it was snug, hugging all of your curves. Hugging your bump. You had a bump. You looked so obviously pregnant to him, he was ready to crawl on his hands and knees and beg at your feet.... for what, he wasn't sure. But that's what his brain was barking at him to do right now.

"Roo!" you called out, prancing toward him in that tight dress and your boat shoes, and literally nothing felt better than being with you. As soon as you were in his arms, he was home. "Bradley," you moaned against his lips as his hands found your sides. You felt different in the best possible way. The swell of your belly wasn't huge yet, but it was definitely there. He could feel it. His growing baby.

God, you were kissing him just right, fingers threading through his hair as you rubbed yourself against him. "Jesus," he groaned into your mouth, but you kissed it away as he ran his hands along as much of your middle as he could reach. He couldn't help it; when you eventually broke the kiss to take a breath, he dropped to his knees in front of you.

Your fingers were still in his hair as you looked down at him in surprise. "Roo?"

He was kissing along that green fabric and rubbing his nose against that perfect, little bump. He knew you were twenty-two weeks along, and he knew what that meant. "Please, tell me," he rasped, stroking you gently with his thumb. "Please, Sweetheart. Is it a girl or a boy?"

Your softly parted lips and smile had all of his focus as he waited to hear you tell him what he'd been dying to know. "Oh," you whispered, pushing your fingers through his hair, leaving him in anticipation as your fingertips glided down his cheek. "I don't know yet."

"You don't?" he asked, brow creased in concern. But you just kept smiling as his heart pounded. "You don't know?"

"Nope," you replied easily. "My appointment is in an hour."

Bradley rocketed to his feet. "Are you serious?" he whispered, his voice a little harsh. "I didn't miss it?"

You kissed him softly as he collected you back in his arms. "You didn't miss it, Roo. I postponed it as long as I could. You're just in time."

"Hell yes!" he whooped, pumping one fist in the air as you giggled. "You waited for Daddy," he said, smiling down at your belly as he slowly walked you backwards. "That's my Nugget." You were looking up at him with trusting eyes as he pushed you back against a pillar next to the baggage carousel. "You said we have an hour?"

"Yes."

"Good," he murmured before his lips found yours, and his hands continued their excited exploration of your new curves.

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Next up is the big reveal!!! I am so excited!!!! Get your final guesses in now! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who has been reading and interacting. Welcome to the new series!

PART 2

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wlwsource · 8 months

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Toni and Cheryl stayed together. Moved out west together. They settled in Oakland Hills in a craftsman house, where they lived as artists and activists. And they had a son, Dale, named after Riverdale of course. — RIVERDALE | S07E20, Goodbye Riverdale

#riverdale #riverdaleedit #riverdale spoilers #choni #choniedit #userbbelcher #femalegifsource #femaledaily #userlgbtq #userbru #userrachel #userjacko #userbecca #*#gifs #tv #by dee

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imissthembutitwasntadisaster · 5 months

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always insane about Joseph and Jesus btw like did Jesus look like Joseph? in the way that people come to look like the people they love and spend so much time with? Did Joseph every doubt, even after the angels and the flight did he ever lie awake and think maybe he was a fool for believing in a virgin birth? did he ever resent Jesus because of the mockery that both he and his wife received? did he forget that Jesus wasn't his son because he was his son in all the ways that mattered? how young did he start teaching him how to be a craftsman? how much time did they spend together building and creating? Jesus saw his mother at the cross but did he think of the man who raised him as he died? did he think of his second father???

#Joseph SO important to me that man was given a lot to accept and he accepted it

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marlinspirkhall · 6 months

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My favourite Game Changer quotes in no particular order:

“Take my points, you twee bitch, take my points away!”

“TIMBS! TIMBS, BITCH!”

“I haven't been able to since the HRT.” / “That's so interesting; I have the opposite problem.”

“He wanted to see his son fall, fall from the sky, oh how CLOSE to the SUN he FLEW, but Daedalus our little master craftsman over here had some WAX WINGS OF HIS OWN–”

“The lady said butthole, Sam.”

“Beardsley left this for me.” / “But you voted them out!” / “I am aware of that, yes.”

“Call your dad! Call your dad!” / “Call his... Dad?”

“I'm hungie :(”

“My period started during the break and I am in immense pain right now. This is not a bit.”

“Hey! Timothy! You're not allowed on the street anymore, and you know why?” / “Why?” / “On account of the crimes!”

“Can I solve it? Can I solve the thing?” / “WHAT?” (...) “That was a real Jewel moment right there, to go to so far at the top from so far at the bottom.”

“If Ally Beardsley comes out with a crown on their head I'm going to lose it.”

“Yes, of course I flinched. I'm not gonna stand here and pretend I didn't flinch, that was terrifying.”

“Just give it to me now, we all know I can do this.”

“You're gonna get Josh Ruben in here and not give him a seagull to do? Okay.”

“There is a big difference between walking into an escape room and finding yourself inside one.”

“Zac is running down the street? Jacob is driving home, and Ally is on their way to the airport.”

“Byoooouh.”✋😐✋“Did you factor in the antlers?”

“I am also 31. It's important to know there are three men in their thirties here today.”

“I think... You did this, and you're a bad man.”

“Was it writing Katie's name down and letting everyone think it was the art department?”

“The dungeon master is now my prisoner, it's Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

“There's gonna be a loop-de-loop.”

#Game Changer #Dropout #Ally Beardsley #brennan lee mulligan #Lou Wilson #Zac Oyama #jacob wysocki #izzy roland #game changer quotes #erika ishii #katie marovitch #josh ruben #sam reich #raphael chestang #Game Changer spoilers

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gilly-moon · 8 months

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More Jomei ♢ brief story context below (warning for whump/dark themes)

After being purchased from the brothel where he worked, Jomei spends a year confined by a man who does everything to break him. He’s kept in windowless rooms, starved, assaulted, manipulated, and even when he’s finally willing and obedient, the man still goes as far as removing his legs so he can’t escape.

When Jomei is finally rescued, he ends up in the care of his childhood friend - the son of a local craftsman. His friend helps Jomei through recovery and even carves him a new set of legs, complete with a few magic runes so they respond more naturally to Jomei’s movements.

#gillymoon oc #jomei #art #my art #artists on tumblr #oc #original character

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friendswithclay · 11 months

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“NIGERIA West Africa Jos Portrait of craftsman potter holding a ceramic pot and his son”

#friendswithclay #pottery #Nigeria

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manias-wordcount · 2 years

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If you have the time, could you maybe write something with zuko x reader after he has become part of the team and the reader becomes really close with him but somehow she does something to make him jealous and then it ends with rough kinky smut

All That You Needed (Zuko x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼. 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼, 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝗔𝗨 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗱𝘂𝗹𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 (𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗮𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲'𝘀 𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀 𝗴𝗼 𝘂𝗽 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗹𝘆) 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗱𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗱-𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

The abandoned vacation home of the Fire Lord had a way of looking both grand and pitiful.

Beautiful craftsman's work hides under overgrown moss. Impressive masonry sits without shine as it takes day after day of harsh sunlight with almost no end. Layers of dust cake all that’s been untouched. While fallen leaves and sand, pushed around by wind reach into every other crevice of the house. Faded signs of life worth living here for. Simple signs of royalty and their stay. Mingled in between room after room. Twisted behind old wood that creaks and speaks. And standing forward in front of even older wood that rots and rots.

There’s no doubt in your mind that this was once a gorgeous home. And somewhere inside of you, you’re thanking Fire Lord Ozai for having this house so that years and years after he leaves it behind, you and your friends could use it to seek refuge from the very man himself. But another part of you? Currently, it’s cursing out the man for all that he’s put you and your friends through.

And for producing a son who’s a little too good at every dirty thing he promised he’d do to you once he had the chance.

“Faster.” The word is hissed in your ear by a husky, familiar voice just above the sounds of a nighttime downpour just outside the walls. It snaps at you with the same type of venom that you’re used to. But it’s somehow, it’s rougher than normal. Harsher even. But it’s low, and it’s warm against your ear in a way that has you cherishing the tone more than you thought you would. More than you thought you could. But perhaps that was always part of his charm. Perhaps that’s what got you close to him despite being on different sides for the longest time. The way he barks…and backs it up with his bite every single time. “That’s it…good girl.”

You let out a sharp breath at the praise. He sounds so genuine that you can’t help but feel it low, low, low within your body. And it drives you insane. So, so completely insane that you find yourself doing crazy things just because you want to please him. Just because you want to feed him into his desires. To feel the heat of his hands rolling over your hips, keeping you warm from all the other elements. To relish in the touch of his bare skin against yours, providing you the relief you never knew you sought out until him. And to feel him- in and out of your precious heat.

The very thing he had claimed for himself the moment you had climbed on top of his lap while everyone slept only a few mere feet away.

“Zuko…”

The very thing you’re letting him have his way with right now.

“The other guys may look at you. They may only look at you.” He speaks definitively to you. As if his word triumphs all. Just like a prince. Though it’s almost impossible to remember that this entire exchange started because he grew jealous. Because he grew tired of witnessing your closeness with the other men of the group. Because he grew annoyed with the stories of stares and wandering eyes that strangers always seemed to have on you whenever you would go out. It’s entirely too human of an emotion you expected him to feel- and towards you no less. “But they’ll never touch you.”

Sure, you gravitated to him. A broken soul that left behind so much to fight against the side he was born on. It was only natural to want to be there for your newest and one of your most powerful teams. And sure, the smiles you sent him were more than cordial. And the lingering touches were a few seconds too long to be just a comforting touch. But flirting with a prince turned traitor to his people? It sounded too good of a dream to become anything more. So you never expected it to turn into anything special. You never expected him to see you as anything special.

Just like you never expected him to go out of his way to find you alone a couple of hours earlier. All so that he quietly profess how the longing looks of every single man that isn’t him makes him sick with anger. All so he can whisper promises in your ears of every single way he wanted to have you all for himself the second he’s able to get the chance. All so he could swear that you’ll never think of another person- another name- by the time he finally has his way with you.

And now, you’re starting to think he might be right.

“Zuko!” You can’t help but whine his name again as he guides you into moving slightly faster than you were used to, his hands holding onto you in a bruising grip. Up. And back down. Up once more. And then down again. It was a risky move- having sex out in the open like this. No, it was beyond risky. It feels outright dangerous riding him out in the open like this. Anyone could wake up to the sounds of thunder and rain out and turn over to see Zuko, laying on his back with his knees up and his pants down so he can watch as your face fills with pleasure-filled expressions that only he can bring out of you. “Zuko…please!”

You don’t what you’re asking for. You have no idea what you’re begging for. Perhaps to move to a new location? With Toph sleeping in the only other clean room in the vacation home to escape Sokka’s snores, a request like that would be difficult to fulfill. Even if you could manage to pry Zuko’s hands off of your body for more than one second, you doubt you could find something suitable. Then perhaps for him to take it slower? For him to be merciful. No, no that can’t be it. You wouldn’t dare ask for something so foolish. Not while your body is chasing that growing feeling inside of you, just begging to be let out. Then… could it be more?

Could you want that? Could you want more?

“They’ll never touch you.” He repeats himself against the sounds of the rain throwing itself against the roof increases. It’s the same voice he used when he pulled you away from the others all those hours ago. The same voice that makes your eyes fog over and your mind wander just to hear it so close. Maybe that is what you want. Maybe that is what you need. “I promise you, never.”

More kisses to your swollen lips. More bites to your already bruising neck. More of his warm touch against your body. You want it. More intense looks from lust-filled golden eyes. More dangerous whispers against your heated skin. More shared breaths of this air that surrounds you both. You need it. More shared moans of pleasure. More shared groans of desperation. More, more, more. You have to have it.

More time alone with him. More time beside him. More time on top of him. More time on him. More of him inside of you. More of him, more of him, more of him. Maybe that’s what you want. Maybe that’s what you need. More of him. No…

All of him.

“They’ll never touch what’s mine.”

Just like he needs all of you too.

#Zuko #prince zuko #zuko x reader #zuko avatar #zuko fanfic #zuko fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #avatar fanfic #avatar x reader #zuko avatar #Zuko ATLA #atla x reader #prince zuko atla #prince zuko atla x reader #x reader #xreader #smut

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jarondont · 17 days

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His Hands

He looks down at his hands. They are caring, comforting, and firm— The hands of a father, A husband, A king. Loving hands— The same ones that held those of his dearest on their wedding day, Full of adoration and love. Never wanting to let go. Gentle hands— The same ones that caressed his son’s soft skin as he kissed him goodbye, Tears staining the blanket. I will come back, he promised. He looks down at his hands. They are calloused, bruised, and deadly— The hands of an archer, A craftsman, A soldier. Cunning hands— The same ones that brought victory to him and great sorrow to the enemy, Deep in the dark crevice of night. Vengeful hands— The same ones that brought long-awaited doom upon 108 men, Spoiling his halls with evil. Guilty hands— The same ones that held a sword dripping with the blood of his comrades, His best friend, his brother, his men. He looks down at his hands. They are stained with blood. They always will be. They are his hands, after all.

#his hands #odysseus #the odyssey #epic #epic: the musical #epic the musical #fanfic #poem #tagamemnon

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celticcrossanon · 2 months

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BRF Reading - 7th of March, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 7th of March, 2024

Question: Are there any plans for a Regency, official or unofficial, to take place this year?

Note: This reading was done with all the cards upright, i.e. there are no reversals

Interpretation: The King and the Queen do not want a regency.

Card One: The Four of Pentacles

This is a card of holding on tightly to what you have, and that is exactly the energy I am getting from it. King Charles - the energy is masculine, so I am assuming it is the King's - King Charles is hanging on to his position and power with everything he has. He does not want to give up one iota of the Kingship and its duties to anyone else (except his wife), and the energy of that position is rock-firm and rigid in its stubbornness. Even if handing over some of his duties would be better for him, the King is not going to do it.

The picture on the card shows the craftsman Daedalus looking at his nephew. His nephew as more talented than Daedalus was, and Daedalus was both envious (wanting the talent his nephew had) and jealous (fearing that his nephew would take the success and reputation that Daedalus had from him). It is quite likely that the King has similar feelings towards his heir - affection for a family member combined with feeling of envy and/or jealousy, and this is part of the reason that the King is so opposed to a regency.

Note: AFAIK, under British law, if a regency is declared because of the incapacity f the King, for whatever reason (illness etc), then the regent has to be the heir. This is prescribed by law and the King can not say I want X as my regent and have it happen; the regent has to be his heir.

Card Two: The Queen of Pentacles

One of the meaning of the Queen of Pentacles is the good wife, and this is the energy that is coming from this card. The energy of this card is that of Queen Camilla, who is supporting her husband in his desire to not have a regency or any form of support from his heir while he, the King, is ill. In this they are of one mind. The Queen is determined that any power put down by the King will go to her and not to his heir. The energy is telling me that the Queen views any power given to the heir as a weakening of her position, and she is trying to make herself impregnable and unassailable (I was going to type 'as strong as possible' when the other words appeared in my mind out of nowhere). If I am reading the energy correctly, she seems to fear the heir and what he will do when he comes into power, so she is trying to get as much as she can for herself while she can.

As The Queen is coming through as the Queen of Pentacles, there may very well be money and status issues involved here (i.e. Pentacles things) - things that have not been put into law and that would be completely disrupted if Prince William were to come to power.

Tangent: I did a one card reading before this one that I wasn't going to write up, and I asked if Queen Camilla wanted her son to follow her as King, just to try and get some sort of idea about her thoughts and motives, and knowing that this was impossible as the line of succession is fixed by law. I was shocked to draw The Six of Wands, the success card, as the answer to my question, because that said yes, the Queen would like to have her son as King after her and not Prince William (i repeat, it is impossible to do this, so we are talking about wishes, not something that can come true). Combining that card and the above energy, I think that the Queen would feel far safer and more secure if her own blood was the heir instead of Prince William. She is really frightened about what Prince William will do when he is in power, and she does not like how popular Prince William is with the public at all.

Another thing to note is that I am not getting any sense of duty towards the country from the Queen (or the King). The energy from the Queen is very much wanting to be comfortable and do what she wants, and trying to arrange things so this will happen and will continue after her husband's death, and that is it. There is no concern for the affect of her actions on the country; she is not even thinking about that and her attitude seems to be 'oh well, they can fix up the mess after I'm dead'. Her concern is focused on herself first and her family and husband second, and that is it.

Card Three: The Page of Swords

Pages are messages, and swords are thoughts/strategy/communications. This card is giving me the energy of social media and the internet - electronic communications. As we have seen, the King and the Queen are putting out a message of 'Everything is fine, no need for extra help, the King can still do his job and if he can't the Queen can do it for him'. That is the message that they want to go out to the world. Whether it is actually the truth is another matter entirely (Swords can be about strategies, and people lie to other people as part of a strategy all the time - also, King Charles has past form in lying to the general public to get what he wants). The last thing the King or Queen want is pressure from the public to have Prince William take over some of the duties of the monarchy to help out his father.

Underlying Energy: The Three of Wands

This is my card for the line of succession, the transfer of power within the BRF, regencies, and so on. Having it as an underlying energy confirms that the above cards are all about power and the transfer of power within the BRF.

The card shows Jason's uncle giving his crown to Jason, i.e. acknowledging Jason as the true king, but then the uncle sends Jason off to find the Golden Fleece, hoping he will be killed along the way. This tells me that even if King Charles does make a show of handing some functions over to his heir, there will be a trap involved and Prince William will be set up to fail if he takes on the offered duties.

This card is also giving me courtier vibes - King Charles and Queen Camilla may be fighting off the idea of a regency/handing over any of the monarch's duties to the heir, but I would not be surprised if the courtiers have plans in place for both an official regency and an unofficial transfer of power behind the scenes.

Conclusion:

King Charles does not want a regency in any way, shape, or form. Neither does he want to give up any of his powers to his heir, even for a temporary period while he recovers his health, although he has no problem sharing his powers with the Queen. The Queen is 100% behind him; he has all of her support on this matter.

Both of them seem to be driven in part or in whole by negative emotions towards the idea of Prince William in power - envy and/or jealousy on the part of the King, and fear on the part of the Queen (I can feel her fear as I write this. I can not stress this strongly enough - she is terrified of Prince William having any Kingly powers).

This determination to hold on to the position and power of the monarch is what is behind the PR that says the King is fine, he is working from home, the Queen is a great support to him etc.

While the King and the Queen are refusing to even discuss the issues, the courtiers may have quiet plans of their own - just in case.

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dancingtotuyo · 9 months

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In the Silence (Joel Miller)

As often happens, my one shot turns into multiple shots. Second part to Build you the World

Joel Miller X Reader

Rating: PG-13 (some sexual references, language)

Warnings: 3rd trimester pregnancy, descriptions of pregnancy and labor (not really a lot for the actual child birth)

Tags: pre-outbreak, no outbreak (they deserve happiness!), pregnancy, fluffiness, Craftsman!Joel, 90s references, we are in 1995 folks!

Words 2832

Series Master List | Author Master list

You groaned spread out on the bed in nothing but your cotton nightgown. A foot jammed into your lungs and another your spine forcing you to your side. The foot jammed deeper into your lung stealing your breath away.

“You little brat. If I suffocate, I take you with me, you know.” You said, looking at your ever-growing stomach.

“That’s no way to speak to our son.” Joel leaned against the door, hands tucked in his pockets in such a way that you were sure that exact stance is what got you into this position in the first place.

“Go away. I don’t want to see you.”

Joel chuckled. “You don’t mean that, baby.”

“Yes, I do. You made me this way.”

Joel raised an eyebrow shaking his head. You groaned, not because of the baby playing tennis with your internal organs but because despite not wanting to be touched, desire coursed through your veins. You both wanted Joel inside you and to get the fuck away from you. Pregnancy was weird and annoying and wonderful and all that other cliche stuff pregnant women say. Another swift kick to your lungs was all the cold water you needed. You grunted having to catch your breath.

“Damn, I saw him move on that one.” Joel sat on the edge of your shared bed. You’d moved in at the start of your second trimester once the morning sickness tapered.

“Yeah, right into my lungs.” You shift ever so slightly, trying to create separation between your son’s foot and the organ that kept you breathing.

“Maybe he is a little bit of a brat.” Joel winked at you and you managed a chuckle. “Must be your genes kickin' in.”

You swatted his arm. He laughed, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You allowed it, warming up to the idea of having him near. You were in a constant state of fluctuation, swinging back and forth between wanting Joel as close as possible to not wanting him anywhere near you.

“Sarah is home, wants to know if she can come up. Wants to watch a movie in our bed.” He pressed a kiss right under your ear. Was he trying to seduce you?

“Sounds good to me.” You were more than happy not to have to go down stairs.

Going down stairs meant you had to go back up and that was getting harder by the day. Last night Joel was practically moving your body for you and you were still breathless before reaching the top. Joel was by no means weak. He’d had no problem throwing you over his shoulder 9 months ago, but two weeks from your due date, you’d gained 40lbs and your body weight distribution was different. You both shared fears that both of you might end up at the bottom of the steps if he attempted to carry you up. Throwing you over his shoulders wasn’t really an option right now.

“Might just keep you to myself for a few more minutes.” He grinned, another kiss on your neck. Your breath caught.

His hand traveled over your bare collarbone. Goosebumps rose over your skin. It followed down over your swollen, sensitive breasts. A soft moan. His hand traveled down further. He leaned into you more, more of his body touching yours, and you were done. Not in a good way.

He felt your body language change beneath him. “Ugh, I need to not be touched right now.”

Joel sighed, pulling back with an understanding smile. “I’ll go get, Sarah.”

“Will you bring me a snack?”

“Apples?”

“With peanut butter?”

“Is there any other way, my love?” Joel smiled. He disappeared around the corner and immediately, a fist to your bladder.

“Joel?”

You heard him turn and come back up the stairs. “Yeah?”

“Will you help me up? Your son just stabbed my bladder.”

He chuckled, offering out his hands. You took them moving to a sitting position. Joel waited for your nod until helping you to your feet. “Got it from here?”

“I think you.” You laugh, waddling toward the bathroom, and it was a true waddle.

The doctors estimated the baby was going to be at least 8 pounds and with 2 weeks left to your due date, you couldn’t believe he could get any bigger. The pressure you felt all around your abdomen, and as hot as you felt all the time, and the pressure, and the kicks to your internal organs, and the thought of delivering an 8-pound baby, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You loved feeling your son move around in your womb, especially when he wasn’t targeting your internal organs. He was a physical expression of the love you felt for the man downstairs.

You stopped at the nursery door. You loved this room. Joel had finished the crib months ago, adding some more detailing to the rails. You ran a hand over it. It brought tears to the surface every time you looked at it.

The three of you had painted the walls a soft green. Sarah had been so happy to be included in the painting but lost interest after the first hour.

Your eyes drifted to the rocking chair. Joel crashed your baby shower. You smiled as you remembered the look on your mother’s face as he walked through the door. Your mother, ever the traditionalist, was horrified when a man crashed the event. Joel was already on her bad side for knocking you up and not marrying you immediately.

Joel had bustled in, declaring it was “his son too.” He’d set the rocking chair down right in front of you presenting it to you like a male penguin presenting a pebble to his mate. You’d fallen even more in love with him.

You fought the urge to sit in the rocking chair. You’d have to call Joel to get up if you did. You placed a hand on top of your stomach, it was much more than a bump at this point. “I love you so much little man. We can’t wait to meet you.”

You made your way back to the bedroom, easing down as Sarah bounded in. You smiled. “Hi Princess. How was school?” She’d started first grade this fall.

She climbed onto the bed. Joel came in close behind her, VHS tape in hand. “Good, Miss Jordan said we’re having Show and Tell next month. Can I take my baby brother? He’ll be here by then, right?”

You laughed, kissing her head. “I don’t think so. He’ll be too little, but you could take a picture of him instead.”

Sarah sighed, seeming to contemplate the proposition. “I’ll have to think about it.”

You caught Joel’s smile out of her periphery. “What movie did you pick?”

“Lion King.”

“Yeah, and someone forgot to rewind it last time,” Joel said, shooting a teasing smile at Sarah.

“Oops.” Sarah giggled.

You settled onto your side, fighting the heaviness of your eye lids. Sarah loved the Lion King so much you were sure the 2 month old VHS tape would need to be replaced before Christmas. It made you cry. Joel would tell you “cry” was an understatement. He was probably right. Weep might be more accurate.

Sarah sat with her back against your stomach. She’d learned not to put too much weight against you. Just enough that it didn’t trigger the need for personal space and just enough that she could feel the baby when he kicked.

Joel hit play and Sarah was instantly absorbed into the world. Joel settled on the other side of the bed, facing you. He brushed your hair back, fingers light over your cheek and neck. You smiled through shut eyes. He leaned over, breath hot in your ear. “Let me know if it gets to be too much, we can move downstairs.”

Between the noise of the TV and the breeze from the fan, sleep felt nearer than consciousness. You floated in the in-between haze. You grabbed his hand, letting it set on top of your stomach. Almost on cue, there was a thud in your womb right under Joel’s hand. Sarah has felt it too.

She giggled. “This is my favorite part too.”

You kept your voice soft and quiet. “Just wake me up after the sad part.” - Mufasa’s death of course, but just saying it made tears well in your eyes.

Joel chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Of course, baby.” Another to your forehead. “I love you.”

Your first contraction came at the grocery store. You’d insisted Joel take you with him this week, desperate to get out of the house. You’d had a little spurt of energy today which was a welcome change. You didn’t pay any mind to it, passing it off as Braxton Hicks.

The second one came as you pulled into the driveway. You paused in the passenger seat as it passed. Joel tapped on the door, a brown paper bag in one hand. “You good baby?”

You opened the door. “Yeah, just some Braxton Hicks.”

He offered his free hand and you took it. He pulled you up, bicep straining under his t-shirt. His hand rested on your back as he lead you inside. Sarah bounded across the Adler’s front yard into yours as soon as she spotted the two of you.

“Hey princess, you have a good time with the Adlers?” You sent Mrs. Adler a wave of thanks and assurance.

Sarah shrugged. “It was alright.”

Joel chuckled. Your neighbors were a little out there, but sweet nonetheless. They doted on Sarah like she was their grandchild. Joel’s parents had walked out of his life when he was a teenager. Your Dad died from a heart attack just a month after meeting Joel. He never got to meet Sarah and your mother… she wasn’t jumping to play grandma to either of your children. As odd as they might be, you both appreciated the Adlers' influence in Sarah’s life.

You and Joel never really talked about it, but somewhere along the line, Sarah had become yours too. You’d been around for over half of her life now. It was bound to happen. You were the backup contact at school, picked her up several days a week when you were nine months pregnant. You went to parent-teacher conferences. You’d learned the intricacies of caring for hair. You went to parent-teacher conferences and cared for her when she was sick. She’d called you mom once. Sarah hadn’t even realized it. Joel had come home to find you crying in the kitchen.

“Can we get a dog? The Adlers just got a dog. Her name is Mercy”

“You’re about to get a baby brother.”

“Can I teach him to do tricks?”

Joel shrugged. “Don’t see why not.”

You smacked Joel’s shoulder stifling a laugh. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your head as he went to collect the rest of the groceries.

By dinner time you’d had three more contractions. Sarah suckered you two into a movie night that extended past her bedtime. You and Joel both wanted to treasure the last few moments with just her before the baby came. You’d managed to talk her out of The Lion King and into a princess movie.

Joel noticed you shifting throughout the movie. It wasn’t uncommon for you to move around a lot, but tonight you seemed to be extra restless. The contractions were coming steadily every 15 minutes.

Joel took Sarah up to bed. You were down to 10 minutes. It started to set in that maybe you were in labor. The thought paralyzed you. It was like one of those things you know is going to happen, but illogically you think will never actually come.

“You feeling okay, Baby? You were shifting around an awful lot?”

The TV glowed blue in front of you. A hand rested on your bump. “I think I’m in labor.”

“Oh shit…”

You laughed. “Oh, shit is right.”

Joel kneeled in front of you, taking your hand. You smiled at him. You could read the nerves firing off inside of him. You squeezed his hand. “Walk with me?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Shouldn’t we go?”

You shook your head. “I’m at 10 minutes apart.” Joel nodded. The doctor said 7 minutes. You could tell Joel was fighting the urge to jump into “do-er” mode. “And I want to walk around our home one last time, just you and me.”

His thumb rubbed your hand. “Okay, baby.”

He stood, offering his hands as he had so many times. You accepted and he pulled you up. Neither of you said a word. His hand rested low on your hip and you settled yours on top of your stomach. You walked through the kitchen and then back to the living room. Nothing but the dark of night and peace between you. You left the back door open and wandered into the backyard, walking the fenceline. Joel had started to outline where the raised beds would go. That was his next project. He’d finished the back porch just as the winter chill settled in.

You stopped as another contraction started. Joel paused almost simultaneously like he sensed it. You made a few laps around the yard at a snail’s pace. Another contraction hit. Joel didn’t say anything as he glanced down at his watch, but you knew it hadn’t been ten minutes yet. He steered you inside.

He closed the door. You sighed, not wanting to break the silence. You could tell Joel was barely keeping it together. “Go get Mrs. Adler.”

He looked like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He kissed your forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

You rand through the mental checklist. Your bag was in the car. You were in comfy clothes. There were two hair ties on your wrist. Shoes, you needed a pair of those. Your sandals sat by the front door. Joel was getting Mrs. Adler. You would call your mom from the hospital. Sarah- you sighed. You wanted more than anything to go kiss her forehead. You weren’t making up the stairs, you knew that. So you pictured her in her room, snuggled until the covers her chest rising and falling steadily. You pressed a kiss to your hand, sending it up to her room on your breath. This might be your first baby, but that little girl made you a mom.

Joel came in. Mrs. Adler was hot on his heels. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. Mrs. Adler gave you a hug. You’d gone over the plan last week. Numbers were on the fridge and fresh sheets on the guest bed.

Your labor progressing at a linear rate would’ve been too easy. Once checked in at the hospital, your contractions were 5 minutes apart. However, your cervix only measured at 2 cm. That was 36 hours ago. Your labor had basically stopped around 3 am that first night. They’d tried everything to keep it going. Walks up and down the hallway, drugs, but nothing worked. You felt like a medical miracle or something. You and Joel had even snuck off to the bathroom for a quickie. Nothing did it. They discussed breaking your water, but labor had pretty much stopped. Your contractions turning sporadic. The doctors talked about a c-section, but you and the baby appeared to be fine. The only thing keeping them from sending you home was wanting to monitor both of your vitals.

Joel was restless. His eyes were bloodshot from nurses interrupting your sleep every couple of hours. You imagined you looked to be in similar shape. Visitors weren’t allowed in until after you had the baby, but Joel met Sarah and Mrs. Adler for an hour that second afternoon. He returned in much better spirits.

It made you more cranky. You missed Sarah. You were tired of being in the hospital, and dammit if you didn’t just want to hold your baby in your arms.

“If my labor doesn’t start by supper, I want a c-section.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Joel nodded. He kissed your forehead.

At 4 pm, the contractions started up again almost out of nowhere. By 4:30, Joel squeezed your hand while your doctor instructed you on what to do. At 5:07 pm on a crisp March evening, Asher Joel Miller made his way into the world. He announced his entrance into the world with the scream of healthy lungs weighing 8 pounds, 12 ounces, a number you never let Joel forget.

The medical personnel filtered out of the room. Asher, having been cleaned up, now rested contently between you and Joel. He had Joel’s nose and you could see the promise of brown curls on his head. Joel kissed your forehead and then your son’s. He pulled you in tighter. He didn’t need to say a word and neither did you. You felt his love running over like the bathtub when Sarah left the facet running.

#pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou #Joel Miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #build you the world

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maopll · 1 year

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Hello, hello!

May I request Zhongli, Kaeya, Ayato and Al-Haitham with an s/o that likes to draw them? A LOT. Like, s/o has sketchbooks filled with sketches and drawings of them.

Thank you very much!

My muse I genshin impact !

pt 2 here !

⌗:, where you draw your lover in a secret sketchbook only for it to be revealed....

⌗:, a/n: thanks for the request anon ! it was a creative request actually.I was giggling while writing it. I'm sorry if your request took too long :(

⌗:, warning: mentions of petnames,..love, darling..., mention of Morax,,

,,what can you do when you are an artist and your lover is an absolute delight to your eyes of an artist? just like anyone else you admire his features by sketching portraits of his face, of his body, of his lips. but you are always quick to shut your sketchbook whenever he is near. if he sees it...you would die out of embarrassment....

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

KAEYA

our cavalry captain here is so beautiful you drool whenever you remember his face. if there was any person who had a perfect face it would be him and him only.

you have a shelf that has many leather books and drawing sheets but you never told him what they have. ofcouse he respects your privacy so he never asked but while you were out on some business he was in your bedroom when some books were fallen on the ground. while he was picking it up he came across your pieces of him.

curves drawn perfectly, blemishes that he never knew he has yet your eye captured those. you drew him so well that he found his breath caught in his throat. he stored the little picture you made for him but you never noticed it.

The next day when you visited his office you saw the very portrait of kaeya with a calla lily which you drew on his table. "Where did you find this from kaeya !?". you had such a deep blush on your face which made kaeya burst into a laughter.

No matter how much you insist the portrait will be with him forever now and you will not be able to take it from him.

ZHONGLI

he has a statue of himself in many places. through centuries and millenias devotees carved him from high quality jades, golds and precious stones alike.

No matter how famous or talented the craftsman was he when he was Morax, never found those statues to be made from pure devotion alone. Therefore he never expected for anyone to draw him with the love and devotion one might expect.

But you proved him wrong. He found many sketchbooks while cleaning your shared home which had only his portraits. some were romantic while some were a bit sensual nevertheless from just your drawings of him were enough to let him understand the extent of your love for him and your pure devotion. But there was a certain oil painting on a canvas that was only his portrait with his chin resting on the palm of his hand. it was so beautiful with precise strokes that he decided to hang it on the lounge wall.

After you returned from grocery shopping you were stunned to see the painting you stored away only for the one whom you didn't want to ever see it just saw it and decided to hang it on the wall.

"I must apologise for looking through your sketchbooks, love. But...I am indeed quite amazed to see your masterpieces. this one in particular caught my attention so I decided to hang it on the wall. After all..I need to show the guests how well you draw"

AYATO KAMISATO

Yashiro Commisioner Ayato Kamisato has had many portraits, full body sketches drawn ever since the day he was born. He was the son of the esteemed late commissioner and the former Head of a clan so many pieces were made by talented artists from around teyvat.

While he had seen you on many occasions drawing on a sketchbook with pen and or ink he never asked what you drew as you were quite...adamant to not exactly show him what you create. so seeing your behaviour he never asked but while signing through paperwork one late night he found your sketchbook lying. you must have forgotten it and although he told you he would never see it, curiosity got the better of him and he flipped through the pages.

His eyes widened as he saw the countless creations of yours which only centered your one and only muse, Ayato, your lover. He had literal heart on his eyes because all this time you were only drawing your beloved. He kept that book as a lucky charm.

The following day when you ssked him if he saw the leather book you always had he just held out the same while saying "oh? then you must be talking about this" you were bright red as you saw the familiar smirk he had on his face which was enough to tell you that he saw everything.

He chuckled a little and said "your creations are beautiful darling. allow me to express my gratitude, but can I ask you to let me keep this to myself as a token of your affection?"

ALHAITHAM

Alhaitham never really held a fascination towards performing arts but he knew of your admiration towards the same. Since he loved you he never showed any form of disgust towards arts and he never really had one. He just felt that it was not important.

While he would be working in his temporary Acting Grand Sage office you would sit in a nearby chair sometimes and sketch your way in the sketchbook which you always carry. Even kaveh said that your designs are absolutely fantastic but...how come he has seen what you drew but your actual lover never did?

He should admit that he was a bit jealous that his roommate had beat him to your secret sketchbook but he respected your privacy and never asked for it.

Inside your house while alhaitham was skimming through his library for a new physics book he came across your diary. He opened it a little only to find it filled with him and only him. He was taken aback by how you were actually really good at art but also a bit flustered how he was your inspiration.

Hiding the blush he went to talk to you. While you were quite embarrassed yourself and you apologised for drawing him without his consent, he only said that "there's no need for you to apologise love, rather I am glad that i could be a form of inspiration for you and..I hope you will continue to draw me like how you do..". he managed to tell you that all while fighting a blush that spread across his cheeks.

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roosterforme · 7 months

Text

Meet the (Other) Parents (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. Written for an ask. My masterlist. Banner by @mak-32

Warnings: just fluff

You were laying on Bradley's bed in Bradley's bedroom in Bradley's house. And you felt warm and flushed. Not only because of what you and he just finished doing, but also because you knew deep down inside that he bought the craftsman for you.

"Mmm," he hummed, kissing your neck as you felt the bed dip. "I'm going to finish cleaning up from lunch, and then we can head to the airport.

"Okay," you whispered. You were so nervous. His parents were on their connecting flight out of St. Louis right now. Sure, they were coming out to appraise the house that Bradley closed on three days ago, but they were really coming out to do the same to you. This would be your first time meeting them.

When you eventually made your way into the beautiful kitchen, your boyfriend pulled you in for a hug. "They are going to love you, Baby Girl. My mom asks about you every day, plus you've already talked to them on the phone."

"I hope so." Your own parents were pretty crazy about Bradley after meeting him less than two weeks ago, and you wanted to be just as impressive for Carole and Goose.

But there were little signs of your presence everywhere here, even after just a few days. You'd spent nearly every moment in the house with Bradley since he got the keys. Your toothbrush was in the bathroom, your overnight bag full of clothing was sitting inside his closet. Your uniform was hanging in the laundry room.

"Should I clean my stuff up and like put it in the garage or something?" you asked cautiously.

Bradley looked at you like you'd lost your mind. "Why?"

"So your parents don't see my stuff here?"

Bradley snorted as he started to put his shoes on. "Trust me, Sweetheart. Carole and Goose know I have every intention of trying to get you to move in here with me as soon as possible. Short of leaving your sexiest underwear on the bed, they are not going to care."

"Alright," you whispered, following him out to the Bronco. He opened the door and then buckled you in, and you couldn't help but grin at what had become a little symbol of his love. And with a quick kiss to your shoulder, he had the door closed and was walking around to the other side.

There was no traffic. There was nothing to delay you. And it was all too soon before you were standing in baggage claim in your favorite sundress with Bradley's arm draped casually around your shoulders. Your heart was pounding. And then Bradley squeezed your bicep gently.

"There they are," he said with a bright smile, and you saw the Bradshaws hustling toward you. The tropical print shirt nearly identical to the one Bradley was wearing would have been a dead giveaway, if you hadn't already seen photos of them. And Carole was waving and calling her son's name, even though he clearly saw her, which had you smiling at her.

"Bradley!" she gushed when she was close, and she still looked beautiful, even with silver threaded through her blonde hair. Bradley leaned down to hug her, and then the petite woman was practically shoving him out of the way to get a better look at you. She gasped and took your hand in hers. "Aren't you just even more gorgeous in person? Oh, I can't tell you how happy this makes me."

And then you were being squeezed so tight by someone so small, you were left muttering, "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Bradshaw."

She kissed your cheek as she released you and said, "Call me Carole! And this is Nick. Or Goose. Either one."

You reached out to shake his hand, but he also pulled you into a much less life threatening hug and said, "Just call me Goose. Everyone else does." And when he released you a second later, his chocolate brown eyes which were identical to his son's darted between you and Bradley. Then he just nodded before he hugged his son as well.

You insisted that Goose sit in the front of the Bronco on the ride back to the craftsman, and that left you in the back with Carole. She asked about the naval academy and what part of Maryland you were from. She asked about your parents and your roommate and your job and everything else under the sun. You were about to ask her to tell you more about what Bradley was like when he was younger, but then she leaned across the seat and sighed softly, her blue eyes glittering.

"Sorry. I just want to know everything about you. You're one of a kind."

"I am?" you asked with a soft laugh.

She nodded vigorously and said, "Oh, yes." She was looking at you like you were unbelievable. Just too much to take in all at once, and you started to squirm. "We've never met a girlfriend before."

"Oh," you replied softly. You knew Bradley hadn't been in many relationships, but this made you feel warm inside.

"And he so obviously loves you," she added. "Goose and I just can't wait to spend the whole weekend with the two of you."

Her words still had you feeling flushed as Bradley pulled up to the house and unlocked the front door.

"It's beautiful!" Carole said as Bradley led his parents around to see every room. You trailed at a bit of a distance until they beckoned you forward. And they didn't say anything about your toothbrush or your glasses case or your uniform.

But you did hear Goose quietly tell Bradley, "This looks like a house you could raise a family in. Don't drag your feet."

And you did hear Carole whisper to Bradley. "I just love her. She's so charming. Oh my god, Bradley, I don't know how you managed to pull this one off, but please please please don't mess it up."

You were far less nervous as the four of you had pizza and beers on the back patio on the rickety old table and chairs the previous owner left. And you were even less nervous later that night when Bradley suggested his parents sleep on the queen bed. Carol responded with, "Nonsense. The two of you can stay in your room. We'll be fine on the double bed that you bought."

So you got changed and curled up next to Bradley in bed and whispered, "Your parents are awesome."

"They think you're awesome, too."

And you fell asleep wrapped up with his long limbs.

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

When you were about to leave to take Bradley's parents back to the airport a few days later, you climbed into the backseat with Carole once again. She told you about all of the cousins she couldn't wait to introduce you to in Virginia. "If you can come for Thanksgiving, of course."

"Wouldn't miss it," you promised, and her smile filled you with happiness.

After a beat, she leaned a little closer to you and said, "You know he bought that house for you, right?"

You opened your mouth, but you weren't quite sure what to say. You thought you'd made a good impression on them. You didn't want them to feel like you were taking advantage of their son. You really liked them. You were starting to panic.

But she could read your face in that way only a mom could, and she reached across the seat to squeeze your hand. "Oh, I mean that in a good way, darling. A very good way. Means he wants you to stick around."

You were surprised to find that you had tears in your eyes as you said goodbye to them, and as you watched them walk through the security screen area, Bradley said, "I'm pretty sure we have to go there for Thanksgiving."

"That's okay," you replied right away. "I want to." But when you turned to head back to the Bronco, something had you glancing back toward his parents. They were too far away for you to be certain, but you were nearly positive that Carole was leaving San Diego without her engagement ring.

#is it working for you?#if you ask emily #b&bg #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #roosterforme #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw x reader

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tylermileslockett · 1 year

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Protogenoi 9: Zeus Offspring Olympians

In addition to the previous deities, Zeus’ offspring become the remaining Olympians. Here we will explore their fascinating birth tales. In the following pages we will look at each of the Olympians in detail.

Zeus and Metis, the titan of wisdom. Fearing a prophecy of his son overthrowing him (just like he overthrew his father, Cronus) he swallows his 1st wife. But the child, Athena, goddess of wisdom and military strategy, erupts from Zeus head fully armed in war glory.

Zeus and Leto, goddess of child birth and motherhood. Fearing Zeus wife Hera, Leto escapes to the floating island of Delos to give birth to the twin gods Apollo and Artemis.

Zeus and Hera, give birth the Ares; god of war, as well as Hebe, goddess of Youth, cupbearer to the gods, and later wife to Heracles, and Eileithyia, goddess of childbirth.

Hera, jealous at Zeus’ sole conception of Athena from his head, conceives her own child, the lame-legged Hephaistos. Dissapointed with his disability, she casts him out off Olympus and he falls to the island of Lemnos, and becomes an ingenious craftsman under the parentage of sea nymphs Thetis and eurynome.

Zeus and Semele: Hera, in her jealousy persuades pregnant mortal Semele to convince Zeus to reveal his true form to her. But when he does, it incinerates her, and Zeus takes the unborn Dionysus into his thigh for the remainder of the pregnancy.

Zeus and Maia, who is one of the seven sister Pleaides who were associated with springtime and the constellations. Maia gave birth to Hermes in a cave on Mount Cyllene in Arcadia.

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girlfromthecrypt · 3 months

Text

𝕊𝕦𝕔𝕙 ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤

[Interactive fiction, Demo TBA]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

You play as a counselor for the understaffed and underfunded Cloverleaf program. Your job is to organize and oversee a cabin camping holiday for children from troubled homes. Working hard alongside you are your four allies (and potential friends/lovers) Basil Laurier, Anita Merrick and the siblings Flo and Reem Malak.

Unfortunately, the campsite you're tasked with preparing is nothing short of decrepit. Still, you'll make the best of it, right? As you and your colleagues undertake repairs and cleaning efforts (and possibly get to know each other a little better), you keep finding yourself in increasingly unsettling situations.

But surely there's no reason to worry, right?

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

Welcome to Camp Solace!

This picturesque cabin campsite is situated in the middle of nowhere, directly next to the beautiful Lake Solace and flanked by acres of woodland, far removed from the bustle of civilization. In fact, it'd take you quite a while to reach the nearest town in case of an emergency. You'd best make sure nothing goes wrong.

Camp Solace was established in the 1980s. In 2022, the site was bought out by the wealthy Laurier family who plan to overturn it to appeal to “a higher class of customers”. But not before offering it to the Cloverleaf program for the season, free of charge. The things people do for their public image…

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

For the duration of the holiday as well as its lengthy preparations and follow-up work, you will be relying on the support of your four closest colleagues.

Basil Laurier (M, trans, late twenties): The eldest son of the Laurier family. He's volunteering at Cloverleaf. Wealthy, though he tries not to seem it. Van-lifer, nature lover and dedicated spiritualist. Skilled craftsman. Enjoys building things and blowing them up after. Harmonious, cheerful and snarky.

Anita Merrick (F, mid twenties): Student of psychology doing her internship with the Cloverleaf program. Has a bachelor's degree in information technology. Smart, kind and chronically sleep-deprived. Enjoys a good book and fancy coffee. Certified softie. Easily scared (she's in for a bad time, the poor thing).

Reem Malak (F, early thirties): Music teacher, band guitarist and vocalist. Volunteering at Cloverleaf. Flo’s older half-sister. Also plays drums and percussion, sax, piano, bass… and bagpipes. Impulsive, passionate and energetic. Enjoys doing yoga and lifting weights. The cool girl. Very tall.

Flo Malak (M, late twenties): Martial arts teacher who gives classes for both adults and children. Also volunteering at Cloverleaf. Taekwondo, Krav Maga. Silent, kind and not without his quirks. Reem calls him “socially challenged”. Enjoys obscure media and monster movies. Even taller than his sister.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕣 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣

Your player character's age will be kept ambiguous, though it’s implied that you’re in same age range as the romance options (meaning your twenties to thirties).

Play as M, F or NB; gay, straight, bi, ace or keep your orientation undefined (Note: Such Happy Campers is very character-driven with a focus on romantic love and interpersonal connections).

Customize your looks and vibe; choose your strengths, personality and outfit!

#if: intro #if: wip #choice script #hosted games #interactive fiction #interactive story #interactive novel #horror fiction #horror romance #original fiction #creative writing #writers on tumblr #horror writing #original writing #amwriting #original character #original characters #wip intro

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zepskies · 11 months

Text

Never Say Goodbye - Bonus Track #2

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (18+)

AN: Did I say two parts? I meant three lol. (It got too long, I’m sorry.)

Word Count: 4,300 Tags/Warnings: Angst, supernatural shenanigans, death…

Bonus Track #2: One Last Hunt

“Okay, try not to panic,” Sam said. Dean had him on the phone while he sped through town in the Impala.

“I’m coming now, but I won’t get there for a few hours,” Sam said. “My flight leaves in 20 minutes.”

“Thanks, man, but I can’t afford to wait,” Dean said. “She fucking disappeared. I don’t see her anywhere…I’m gonna have to start at her job. That’s where she first took off from.”

“How did she seem this morning?”

“Fine, I guess. I left before she woke up,” Dean said. He still felt guilty about the fact that he didn’t bother waking you up to say goodbye.

“Okay, yeah, start at the museum,” Sam said. “Let me know what you find, and I’d loop in Bobby. Probably Jack too.”

“Bobby’s meeting me there…but we don’t need to bring in Jack yet.”

“Dean, he’s her dad—”

“This isn’t his thing. It’s ours,” Dean said firmly. “If it’s a demon, I’m gonna find her and exorcize that son of a bitch.”

Sure enough, Bobby met Dean at the museum where you worked. The old man was worried, Dean could tell, even if he wouldn’t say it. But he knew the drill: now they had a job to do.

“I’ll go in first, flash my badge,” Dean said. “Meet me in the library.”

“Roger that,” Bobby agreed.

Dean had a decent rapport with your boss, Jerry. When he explained that you were actually missing, Jerry was concerned for your wellbeing instead of irate that you’d taken a very valuable book from the museum.

It gave Dean a theory to lie about on the fly: that you’d been mugged and taken hostage, presumably by someone who might’ve wanted to steal the ancient text.

“How ancient are we talking exactly?” Dean asked.

Jerry gave him a look. “Ancient Egypt.”

He showed you the inventory log on the new shipment you were supposed to compile into the system. The title missing from the rest was called The Eye of Ra.

“All right. Thanks, Jerry,” Dean said. “Anything else you can tell me about this book?”

“It’s a recording of the great deeds of the Ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses,” Jerry explained. “It was said to be touched by Ra himself.”

Touched by Ra, Dean mused. Ain’t that just fucking swell.

Whatever happened to you, Dean knew it was because you touched that book.

For the next few hours, Dean and Bobby worked together on deeper research in the library. Now that they had a starting point, Bobby was able to find some intel.

“The Eye of Ra was actually a nickname,” he said, earning Dean’s attention. “For Sekhmet, their goddess of war.”

Dean’s brows furrowed at that. “Why’s it never the goddess of peace and fucking tranquility?”

“Among other things, she was the daughter of Ra,” Bobby said, raising a wry brow. “And she was known as the bringer of plagues and death…and sometimes healing. Go figure.”

Fucking hell, Dean thought sourly. This was getting worse by the minute.

“Okay, what does this have to do with the book?” he asked. Though he had some idea.

“Well, she ain’t been alive in a millennium. But she had a husband. The god Ptah, a craftsman,” Bobby said. “According to this, when he was eventually killed, she sealed her soul away until she could find a way to rescue him from the underworld…I’ve gotta think she sealed it in that book.”

Dean sighed, rubbing the now aching spot between his brows. An ancient Egyptian goddess was most likely possessing his fiancé.

And it was much worse than it sounded on paper.

“Okay, which means she’ll be looking for a way to bring back her husband,” he said. “So how do we find her?”

Just then, the police radio buckled to Dean’s belt sounded off. When he listened closely, his eyes grew wide. It was a report of five murders committed at a nearby gas station.

Dean pulled up to the local 7-Eleven. Bobby was on the way, but he’d been caught up in traffic while Dean was allowed to use his police siren to his advantage.

He then used his badge clearance to get behind the yellow tape and over to Jack, who was still on duty.

Dean stepped inside the gas station and surveyed the brutal scene: the nice old man who owned the place, plus four patrons were lying dead.

Their skin was covered with boils.

Jack wore a disconcerted frown along with his crossed arms in his police jacket.

“It’s almost…biblical,” he remarked.

Dean knew just how right he was. Jack seemed to know that too when he glanced over.

“Is this your kind of thing?” he asked.

Dean nodded. “I might know what’s going on here. Let’s check the security footage…but no one else can see it but you and me.”

Jack nodded, leading Dean to the back of the store. Jack was shocked by what he found in the footage. Dean watched grimly, but not surprised as you came into the frame. You tilted your head at the owner, who seemed to ask you something.

You raised a hand, and with a flare of magic, everyone in the station was cowering and screaming as a plague of boils covered their bodies, and eventually ended their lives.

“Christ,” Jack gasped. “What the hell—”

“It’s not her,” Dean told him. “She’s being possessed. I’ll handle this, Jack. Just make sure this footage gets buried, along with whatever prints she might’ve left behind.”

Jack barely had time to agree. As if that kind of thing was so easy. He called after Dean as he took off out of the station.

Dean didn’t see Bobby yet when he got outside, but he didn’t have time to wait.

However, he did spot someone familiar hanging out in front of the department store across the street. Dean jogged across and raised a hand to flag down Jessie Deluca.

The kid was gnawing on what looked like a melting Butterfinger. He groaned in annoyance when he saw Dean coming.

“Not you again,” he muttered.

“Yeah, me again,” Dean said. “You been standing out here long?”

“Look, grandpa. I’m just chillin’ here,” the kid sassed. It sparked Dean’s irritation, as well as his impatience.

“I don’t give two shits if you’re contemplating the great Butterfinger Heist of 2008, all right?” Dean pointed back to the gas station. “You see that?”

Jessie’s expression faded from some of its assholeness, becoming more solemn. “Yeah, I heard someone died or something.”

“That’s right,” Dean nodded. “Did you see anyone walk out of the station?”

“No,” Jessie said. But Dean could tell it was a reflex, not the truth.

“Listen, Jessie. I need your help,” he said, more earnestly. “I’m trying to find someone. So if you know anything, I need you to tell me right now. Please.”

Dean stared down in the kid’s brown eyes. Eventually, Jessie relented.

“When I came out of the store here, I saw some business lady walk out. I think, after it had all just gone down,” Jessie confessed. “She looked fine.”

Dean sighed and nodded. “Okay. What’d she look like?”

“Uh…black skirt. Great legs,” Jessie said, his lips curving a little. Dean raised a brow.

“Anything else?” he asked wryly.

“White blouse, heels…actually, she kinda looked familiar,” Jessie added as he thought harder about it.

“Good. Now tell me what direction she went in,” Dean said. Jessie nodded and pointed him down the street.

“I think she went down there. I saw her turn the corner.”

“Where? What street?”

“Dude, I don’t know!”

“Then show me,” Dean insisted. He grabbed Jessie by the shoulder and guided him forward. The kid looked annoyed, but he begrudgingly agreed to lead him down the street. The two of them walked brusquely, with Jessie trying to match Dean’s longer strides.

Dean glanced over at his companion, who was still working on his Butterfinger.

“When’s the last time you ate something that wasn’t covered in chocolate?” he asked. Jessie didn’t look at him when he shrugged. His winter jacket hung off his skinny shoulders, making him look ten rather than thirteen. Dean’s heart twinged.

“Listen, next time you’re itching to knock over a department store for KitKats, come by the station,” Dean said. “Find me or my partner Jody Mills. Or even my boss, Jack. We’ll get you a burger or something.”

Jessie briefly looked up at him, but all too soon, his gaze returned to the ground.

“What do you care?” he said.

“Maybe I know something about having to fend for yourself,” said Dean. “Sometimes going hungry, not knowing when somebody’s gonna come back for you.”

Jessie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer, but Dean hoped he’d gotten through to him.

Jessie led him around the corner at the street he thought he saw you turn down. He and Dean didn’t have to walk too much farther before he found you through the window of a bakery, of all things.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered.

He pulled Jessie to the wall by the window for safety, but both of them snuck a peek inside.

You were once again wielding magic to spread a plague of boils across an entire room of screaming, agonized patrons just trying to get their donuts and cream pies.

Jessie started to utter a cry of alarm, but Dean quickly covered the kid’s mouth with his hand and pulled him back to his side. Dean waited, stock still, until the screaming inside the bakery subsided.

He looked down at Jessie and raised a finger to his lips. Though he was scared, Jessie nodded. Dean led him around the corner into an alley beside the bakery.

“What…the fuck was that?” Jessie hissed.

“Keep your voice down,” Dean warned.

Then suddenly, it donned on the kid as he looked up at Dean. “Oh, shit. That’s your freakin’ girlfriend.”

Dean let out a sharp sigh. “It’s not her…exactly.”

He knew Jessie didn’t understand. Dean sighed again and grasped Jessie’s shoulders.

“Look, you’re right to be scared. There’s something evil in there…that’s why I’ve gotta save her,” he said. “Now you, you’re gonna run. And don’t look back until you’re home, got it?”

After a moment, Jessie nodded shakily. Dean nodded back, patting him firmly on his shoulders.

“Good man,” he said. “Okay, scram.”

Jessie seemed reluctant, like he felt some type of way about leaving Dean behind. But at Dean’s encouraging look, Jessie took off running. Dean hoped he headed straight home.

Then, rolling his shoulders, Dean braced himself. He drew his gun, which was filled with silver bullets. He didn’t think it would work on an Egyptian goddess, nor did he want to pull a gun on you. But for the threat of it alone, he would have to draw it with the safety on.

He entered the bakery, where you were perusing the selections with a dispassionate look. All around you was death.

But you perked up when Dean entered, eyeing him curiously in recognition.

“Feelin’ a snack?” he asked.

“I have been asleep for a very long time,” you replied, holding up a pastry. “What is this confection?”

“Cherry Danish,” Dean supplied. “You’re Sekhmet, right?”

Your lips twitched. “You know of me?”

“I do now,” he said, carefully stepping further into the bakery with his gun pointed down, avoiding stepping on the bodies. He noticed the book you left closed on the counter. The goddess saw him noticing. Her gaze cut to him in amusement.

“Why’d you kill these people?” Dean asked. “Didn’t bow down at the right angle?”

“Among all of my brothers and sisters, I alone was favored by my father,” she said, “because my job was to balance the world, between life and the afterlife.”

Sekhmet brushed her fingers against a glass case, and with a small spark of magic, the glass cracked into thousands of fractals, but didn’t shatter.

“And I did exceedingly well at this,” she said. “Though I see that my work has been undone. This world is rife with imbalance.”

“Mass genocide. Nice,” Dean quipped. “But that’s not all you want, is it?”

Sekhmet’s head tilted at him with reluctant interest.

“I heard you’re looking for your husband, who went an offed himself,” he added.

The goddess’s lips pursed and she slapped a hand on the glass counter, making it shatter. Dean turned and shielded his eyes with his arm. By the time he recovered, Sekhmet was coming around the counter. He took a few cautious steps in the opposite direction.

“My husband was unjustly slain by the very people who once worshipped us in droves,” she said, her tone exacting and harsh. Her eyes, however, were heavy with fury and pain.

“He was an artist. A creator in purest form…his talents were wasted on this abomination of a world,” she said, with disgust at her surroundings. But as soon as her anger came, it diffused into exasperation.

She picked up a glazed donut and took a bite, crossing her arms. She hummed in delight, making Dean’s brows raise.

“Well, I can help you find him,” Dean said. It was a bluff, to be sure, but it still earned Sekhmet’s attention.

“Can you?” she asked in amusement. She didn’t believe him. Yet. But she drew closer to Dean, tilting her head just so. All the while, Dean inched towards the far end of the counter where The Eye of Ra had fallen to the ground.

“And after, you let my girl go,” he said.

“You know of a way to reach the Underworld?” Sekhmet’s gaze roamed over him in disdain. “Unlikely.”

“Well, I’d call it a gate to Hell. But same difference, right?” Dean quipped.

The second he tried to reach down for the book, however, Sekhmet pinned him in place with a vibrant amber coil of magic. Dean grunted as she forced him to the ground, onto his knees between the bodies of a young man and woman, likely a couple.

The goddess stopped in front of him, looking down at his face with interest.

“Dean Winchester, as you are called. I understand why you continue to display such reckless judgment, all but throwing your very life at my feet,” she said. Her lips curved knowingly. “I hold your lover, correct?”

She harshly grabbed his cheek in her hand, and Dean glared in response. She seemed to ponder something as she considered him.

“Soon to be your wife,” she realized.

And Dean had a feeling she was in your head, sorting through your thoughts and memories like any demon would. He didn’t know what was worse: the thought of you being awake in there, unable to fight this bitch’s hold, or if Sekhmet had completely taken over your body and shut you away.

“Just let her go,” Dean said, almost pleading. “You can have me. I won’t even fight you.”

“Such self-sacrifice,” she said. “The only noble act humans are capable of.”

Before she could decide whether to kill him, or keep him for further amusement, the front door of the bakery swung open.

Bobby came in first, followed closely by Sam and Eileen.

Bobby was holding a damn crossbow, which he aimed and shot off at Sekhmet. It was a warning shot, just grazing her shoulder. But it burned her with a sting of flesh that made her hiss in pain. She glared up at Bobby, and after grabbing the book before Sam could, she disappeared in a whirlwind of magic.

The coil holding Dean in place shattered, allowing Dean to catch his break and get to his feet, with Sam’s help. Dean had to admit, it was good to see his brother.

“You okay?” Sam asked. Dean reached over and pat the other man’s shoulder.

“I’m good,” he said, though with a sigh that belied his weariness. “Hey, Eileen. Thanks for making it to the party.”

The pretty brunette offered him a sympathetic smile, rubbing his arm. “We came as soon as we could.”

Dean nodded and turned to Bobby, who still held his crossbow. He wasn’t happy about the old man shooting at you, but he recognized that it had saved his life.

“Why’d that thing hurt her?” he asked.

“The arrow’s dipped in a potent mix of salt from the Dead Sea…and Egyptian wine, among other things,” Bobby replied.

Dean frowned in confusion. “Why the fuck?”

“According to the lore, Sekhmet could be subdued with alcohol,” Sam explained.

“Great, we’ll just get her drunk and all our problems will be solved,” Dean quipped dryly. He grabbed the radio from his belt. His gaze returned to the dead bodies on the floor with dismay.

“I’ve gotta call this in. Bobby, get the security tapes.”

After Dean finished calling in the deaths to his precinct, he shared a disheartened look with Sam, who grasped his shoulder in support.

“We’re gonna find her, all right?”

They regrouped at Bobby’s house once Jack took over at the bakery. Now the three men and Eileen were congregated in the living room, trying to decide on their next move.

“You told her about the Hell gate?!” Sam said incredulously.

“Damn it, Dean!” Bobby slapped the coffee table in exasperation.

“All right, lay off! I was improvising under fucking duress,” Dean snapped. “At least we know where she’ll probably go next, assuming she finds out where the gate is.”

“She’s a goddess, Dean. One of the oldest and most powerful in ancient history. I’m sure she can figure it out,” Sam said, rubbing at his tired eyes.

And, as Dean remembered, Sekhmet was rooting around in your head. She’d find the gate for sure.

Eileen looked between the brothers, clearly worried. Sam had told her about what you, him, and Dean had gone through to close that damn gate to Hell last year.

“So how do we stop her?” Dean asked. Without hurting you, was implicit. Bobby heaved a sigh.

“We gotta burn that damn book,” Bobby said. “But we’ll need to be smart about it.”

So that was how the four of them ended up driving to southern Wyoming. They stopped along the crossroads by the train tracks, and ventured in on foot into the very clearing where their final battle against Yellow Eyes took place.

Dean thought he’d be able to put his past behind him, but the universe clearly liked to kick him in the balls.

Evidence of this came when he saw you standing at Samuel Colt’s gravestone. Or rather, the goddess Sekhmet.

She was expending large forces of magic to try and open up the gate to Hell. The book that bound her soul lied on top of a nearby headstone.

Dean gestured for Sam, Eileen, and Bobby to hang back and fan out, while he stalked forward. He’d changed out of his police uniform in favor of his familiar jeans, shirt, and a red plaid shirt, hoping that at least would help you focus on him, wherever you were deep inside your mind.

But he called out to Sekhmet from a (relatively) safe distance away.

“Are you stupid or something?” he mocked.

Sekhmet paused in her magic wielding. She craned her head over her shoulder at him in annoyance, with amber rings illuminating her eyes.

“There’s only one thing that can open up that gate, and I’ve got it right here,” said Dean.

He pulled out the Colt from behind his back.

Sekhmet’s gaze narrowed on the gun, then at Dean with a slow smirk.

“Why, by the gods, should I trust your foolishness?” she asked.

“Because we’re about to make a trade,” Dean said. “The gun for my girl. You let her go, or you’ll never see your husband again. In this world, or the next.”

Dean pointed the gun at her and cocked the safety back. She didn’t have to know the barrel was empty.

“You cannot harm me, even if there was ammunition in that weapon,” Sekhmet replied knowingly.

She turned to him and reached out with a magic-fueled hand, but before she could grab Dean, Sam shot his own gun.

It deployed a net of rope that twined around her frame and held her in place. It was soaked with the same concoction Bobby shot her with in the bakery, and it made her fume with outrage.

It didn’t completely weaken her though. Her hands were still free to fling Sam and Bobby away from her with magic.

She then turned to grip Eileen, who was nearly able to steal the book. And the goddess sent Eileen across the clearing, breaking a headstone as she fell.

Sam had been trying to pick himself up from the ground, but he gripped at his chest, feeling his soulmate’s pain. He scrambled over to her prone form on the ground and checked the cut along her hairline.

“Eileen,” Sam called, pressing his hand to her cheek. He had one eye on her, and another on his brother.

Because meanwhile, Sekhmet had broken free of the ropes holding her captive with a cry of fury.

Just in time to grab Dean by the throat when he tried to surprise her from behind. She forced him down to his knees and smirked in satisfaction as Dean struggled against her hold.

He called your name, trying to reach you through the goddess’s hold on your mind.

“She is gone from this world,” Sekhmet taunted. “This is but a vessel for my eternal soul.”

“I don’t fucking believe that,” Dean choked. “If she was gone, I’d know it. Deep in my bones I’d know it.”

Her mouth twitched, but she seemed to enjoy the idea of slowly choking him to death. Or maybe, something was holding her back. Dean could only hope it was you, trying to break through.

He looked into your eyes and tried to find you through the cold disdain of a goddess.

“Whatever happens, I’m not letting go,” he gritted out. He held tight to your wrist, on the hand wrapped around his throat.

“I love you, you know that?” he said. “From the start…you closed the door in my face when I tried to kiss you. Teased me. Never took my shit. But you never left me either. No matter how hard it fucking got, you kept my feet on the ground. You never called it quits…‘cause we never say goodbye. Right, baby?”

Slowly, slowly, Sekhmet’s hard exterior faded. The amber rings of magic receded from your eyes, and the woman he loved was there again, softening your face into shock and horror.

You released your grip on Dean. He stumbled to the ground as he coughed and gasped for precious oxygen.

He straightened enough to grab your hand. You reached out for him instinctively.

“Dean,” you said with shaking effort.

“I’ve gotcha, sweetheart,” he said. He turned back to see his brother helping Eileen to her feet. “Sam, the damn book!”

Sam snapped to attention and quickly looked for The Eye of Ra. It had been knocked over from the headstone onto the ground. He grabbed it and fished out a lighter from his pocket.

Dean’s attention turned back to you when you squeezed his hands.

“I can’t hold her for long,” you said tremulously. Your whole body was shaking. “She’s so damn strong…”

“It’s okay, we’re gonna fix this,” Dean said, brushing your hair back from your face.

You closed your eyes and gasped. But when you opened them once again, they were hard, and glowing with magic.

Sekhmet tossed Sam away from the headstone.

Dean tried to hold her back, but she backhanded him hard. Sekhmet followed where he fell. She reached out and gripped him by the neck again, this time choking him with a vengeance.

But then she gasped, as if in pain. She turned her head and found Sam with the book in one hand, and a lit match in the other. As the book started to burn, Sekhmet weakened.

Dean caught her before your body could hit the ground.

Sekhmet released a shaking breath; she gazed into the dimming sky, painted in its golden, amber hues, and knew that her soul was dying. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks.

Dean almost felt sorry for her. Or maybe it was the sight of your pained, weeping face that tugged at his heartstrings.

“You’ll just have to join your husband this time,” he said.

Sekhmet’s lips trembled, but she nodded. “This world was never made for us…but we shall soon be together for all eternity.”

She looked up at him with a rueful smile.

“You understand,” she said. “A soul bond can never be destroyed.”

And with that, the haze of magic drained from your eyes as your body went limp.

Dean’s brows furrowed with worry as he called your name. Behind him, Sam helped Eileen draw near with a limping Bobby. All three watched with worry at Dean’s side…until your eyes opened, revealing their natural hue.

You took in a tremulous breath. “Dean.”

His eyes burned with emotion, but he closed them as he held you tight. All he could do was press his lips against your forehead in relief.

You clung to him right back, for as long as you needed to.

AN: Fun fact — According to Egyptian mythology, the only thing that could stop the goddess Sekhmet from ending humanity with bloodshed was by getting her drunk on beer, which had been dyed red to simulate blood (which she also liked to drink, apparently).

Egyptians (the survivors) would drink beer mixed with pomegranate juice and get drunk to celebrate not being killed dead. (Woo!)

Anyway, let me know if you enjoyed Part 2! All the fluff is coming in the finale of Part 3, very soon…

Next Time:

Dean brings you home. The two of you figure out how to move on from here...

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