#I wanted to do so much more but the chapter was already getting long enough so I had to slice it into two | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelwithdemonictendencies · 2 days ago

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i could never be lost, all the street signs read your name; is this the same place you once kissed me?

make yourself at home; chapter one.

6.5k. no warnings besides tension and parental disapproval and mentions of beauty standards (and tedious amounts of exposition).

(a/n: okay, favorites. to those of you that remember my tyson story, this chapter will look very familiar. i added this beautiful gif in honor of that. i promise that the other chapters (like, from three onwards) will be practically entirely new. with that being said, it is my pleasure to introduce you to olive and russell. you'll see as we progress, but do not be fooled by the "she's not like other girls" potential this story has. i hope to prove to you that the kind of beauty that i'm talking about is all about kindness and patience and thoughtfulness. all i ask is that you give this is shot. if it's not for you, if you can't look past the lack of x reader or direct hockey relationship, that's completely okay. olive, at one point, was simply "kid'" - the way some of my characters have been sugar or baby or doll. and russell was once tyson. i am incredibly nervous to share this with you, to embark and commit to sharing more with you in the future. as such, i hope you will respect and honor my vulnerability. but i'm also excited! very much so! to you and your snakes. thank you thank you thank you. and i still want to gush about hockey with you - just send me an ask! love you always).

it had probably been too long since olive fleming had been home. it had probably been too long since she’d last ventured back to granite falls, new york, but, in her defense, the trek from los angeles was long and daunting. olive made the trip as infrequently as possible, so each time she found herself back in this town, part of her expected it to look unrecognizable. it never did.

it was impossible not to recognize the slow-moving streets, lined by pine trees and the same storefronts, same quaint buildings, same lightposts that needed repairing. every time she drove through, olive felt a stab of guilt in her chest that she swallowed down dry, like some hefty pill.

the directions displayed on the screen of her phone were more a comfort than a necessity - she would know the route to her street blindfolded, maybe dead, but it was sort of nice to think that she needed help getting there, to think that she had grown up so much that she no longer knew this place the way you know the songs that your that dad used to play in the car on the way to school when you were young - entirely and wholly, if not a little senselessly.

in what felt like a blink, olive had already made it into the driveway, her subtly luxurious suv suddenly feeling much too big and attention-seeking. she felt as if she might as well have been driving a limousine, maybe one of those sleek borderline race-cars painted some flashy color. something entirely out of place, something desperately screaming look at me, even though she didn’t want anyone to see her at all. even her reflection in the rearview mirror above the dashboard made her flinch. meeting her own eyes was recognition enough to be jarring.

olive finally shifted her car into park and unbuckled her seatbelt, her hands still gripping the wheel hard enough that her knuckles paled. "arrived at home," the robotic voice from her phone said, which made her choke out a short laugh, ugly and tired. in all ways but the ones that mattered, yes, she supposed, this was home, at least for a little while longer. just until she packed up all her things from her parents’ house, just until she drove her life back to los angeles and stayed there, this time for good.

would it be frowned upon to leave the car running? just in case she needed to make a quick exit, like some blockbuster-movie spy, tucking and rolling from a plane mid-flight? olive groaned, laid her head down against the steering wheel, careful not to press her forehead down hard enough to honk.

this was exactly what coming home always felt like - frustration to the point of madness, self control to the point of lunacy. home left olive crazy, either way.

“you must be so excited to get out of your favorite city,” her manager, celeste, had said to her over the phone just before she left. celeste was something of a close friend, after a few years of partnering and working together. she was fully aware of olive’s subpar relationship with her hometown, but she also knew olive wasn’t the biggest fan of los angeles either. olive had entertained the possibility that she was just hard to please on multiple occasions.

olive had laughed at this comment. “oh, for sure,” she had agreed, “but out of the frying pan and into the fire, you know.” Into the longest-burning fire she’d ever known. she was thinking about that conversation with her manager when a sharp knock on her car window forced her head to snap up.

olive’s mother, danica, was looking warily at her from the other side of the glass as she rolled down her window, blinking at the woman she hadn’t seen in a while, registering her presence while attempting to summon a normal reaction.

“hey, mom,” was the lackluster greeting olive landed on, internally cringing at her tone. she realized she was still gripping the steering wheel and dropped her hands to her lap as if she’d been burned, the way you’re taught to when caught in a lightning storm.

her mother let out a soft laugh, but her gaze was sharp. “going to wait out in the car all day, are you?” she asked. olive could feel her heartbeat in her head, the kind of pressure she always felt when on this end of her family’s disapproval. “come in, olive, not like we get to see you every day.”

olive felt a smile stretch across her face, false and heavy like a waxy halloween mask, like her lip gloss weighed something severe. “yeah, i’ll be right in,” she said, willing any shake out of her voice. “it’s good to see you.”

her mother murmured her agreement before turning to head back inside, which olive supposed was better than nothing. an important reminder that things could be so much worse, that she could be grateful for what she had, that someone better probably would be.

olive took a last stabilizing breath before finally getting out of the car, pulling her suitcases from the trunk and entering her childhood home through the front door.

she’s back? the doorbell seemed to whisper to the bushes by the porch steps, it’s been a while, no?

the bushes shook their heads in condemnation, she’s so unappreciative, they said, so selfish and vain.

“you don’t know me,” olive muttered as she lifted her luggage into the doorway, the wheels on the bottom making a clicking noise as they made contact with the hardwood of the mudroom. she could hear her mother humming quietly in the kitchen.

“who are you talking to?”

olive recognized that slow and deliberate voice as her father, jerry, and quickly turned to greet him, eager to change the subject away from her talking to inanimate objects and plants. “dad,” she said, smiling at him despite his sour expression. “how’s it going?”

“is that a new car?” he asked, bypassing a hello, his gaze already wandering from her, straying to her vehicle through the window. her stomach turned. she knew what was coming. “how’d you afford a new car?”

olive laughed, like he’d said something tastefully funny, waved him off. “my job pays me for what I do, dad,” she clarified, “you know how jobs work.” olive regretted it immediately. she realized how patronizing she sounded.

her father’s grimace and grumbly voice wasn’t lost on her. “right,” he said, “your job.” his voice took on a slight sarcastic tone at the last word, even though she supposed that was to be expected. it still stung, just as it had before she left for college, just as it had during every venture back to granite falls before this one.

“let her put her things away, jerry,” danica called from the next room over. he started to roll his eyes, then appeared to remember he had an audience midway through, his annoyance dissolving instantaneously into something like boredom.

he nodded to olive. “off you go, then,” he said, phrasing odd and stiff, like some black-and-white film actor, making olive scrunch her nose up in distaste as she lugged her bags up the staircase and rolled them into her bedroom, the last door at the end of the hallway.

upon entering, her gaze flickered to her bed, low to the ground, the comforter a pastel pink, the sheets printed with a pretty tulip pattern. it was every bit the bed of a child, but there was something she liked about it, even now.

olive sighed, pushed her suitcases to the closet door and left them there before sitting down on the edge of her bed, letting herself fall back until she felt the softness of her sheets on the back of her neck. travel always took it out of her, but this fatigue went deeper than just jet lag. it was a tiredness she felt in her chest, on the roof of her mouth, coating her throat like a lemon ginger lozenge.

olive wanted to enjoy being home more than anything. the desire ran so deep it felt like it had infected her bloodstream. she wanted to feel comfortable and welcome, like she belonged here, but she didn’t, not really. she hadn’t felt that way in a while, probably not since she was a teenager. at twenty-two, that felt scarily long ago.

she exhaled and rose again, looking around her room with displeasure. the space was just so cluttered. even her bedside table was practically overflowing with trinkets and picture frames, old books and school binders. sorting through everything and packing it up was probably going to be quite the laborious task, could take longer than she anticipated. was this room smaller than she remembered it? the walls closer together, the ceiling lower, perhaps?

“dinner’s ready!”

her mother’s voice once again shook olive from her thoughts, her eyelids fluttering. “coming!”

family dinners at the fleming household had taken on many shapes and sizes over the years. When danica had been in the thick of her corporate law career, as demanding as anything, such events had not existed on a consistent basis. instead, olive and her father would scramble to put together something like cereal, or pasta with butter, or if they were feeling fancy, tomato soup and grilled cheese. olive’s mother always ate at her firm, or on the way home.

danica, thanks to her hard work, was able to retire quite early, not into lavish wealth or anything resembling it, but early enough and into a general sense of comfort. it was then that family dinners became a bit more frequent in the household. after jerry got home from work, he would call olive down from her bedroom, and then the three of them would sit around their small table, chatting about whatever had occurred during the short time they had spent apart.

of course, once olive reached a certain age, she wasn’t always around for dinner time, and her parents didn’t require her to be. it did mean that they grew sort of out of practice though, as olive was home less and less. when olive went to college across the country, that lack of familiarity wasn’t really felt, but whenever she was home from school, when they were all forced together again, the walls felt to olive as if they had some tripwire hidden within them, some explosive ticking regularly, louder each time that she did something that amassed disapproval.

as olive walked down the stairs now, her steps light enough to not make a sound, she attempted to mentally prepare herself, then shook her head, almost laughing. it was funny, mentally preparing oneself for salad and roasted chicken.

“is this a new wallpaper?” olive asked cordially as she pulled a wooden chair out and sat down, folding her napkin and placing it in her lap.

“no,” danica responded.

olive had never really been able to miss the slight pinch in her mother’s brow, minute but telling in its distaste. “same wallpaper as always. you don’t remember?”

olive forced the corner of her mouth to turn up in a smile, but her stomach was churning with something other than travel-induced hunger. “it looks great, was all i was going to say. like new.”

unfortunately, such awkwardness did not evaporate as the dinner progressed, the lack of ease sitting atop the table as naturally as the floral centerpiece. olive expertly tried to veer the conversation away from herself as gracefully as possible, instead oversaturating the discussion with questions directed at her parents.

olive was usually quite good at saying the right thing. it was a huge part of her job, of her success. she knew what to say in different situations, with different people, in front of different audiences. home left her deft tongue fumbling though, left words feeling out of reach in her mind, like her mouth was not her own.

she asked questions about her father’s work and cooking endeavors, her mother’s home renovations and volunteer work at the daycare, but whenever they asked her about her own work, olive would clam up, maybe give that nervous laugh that she disliked so genuinely, make some joke at her own expense.

by the end of the meal, olive was thoroughly exhausted, socially drained in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. it didn’t really make a lot of sense to her - she could work a crowd of thousands at an awards show, craft a post palatable for millions, but a simple dinner with her family was where she stumbled?

“thanks for having me,” was what she said to her parents after she had placed her plate and silverware in the dishwasher, drying her hands with a rag before making to head up to her room.

this was the wrong thing to say, if her father’s voice and the twitch of his mouth was anything to go off of. “this is your house,” he said, simple, plain, and olive didn’t even look at her mother, for fear that she’d see some kind of sadness or disappointment that would keep her awake that night.

“right, of course,” she tried, “i just mean thanks. for, you know, letting me stay here on such short notice.”

“what, like we’re a hotel?” danica said, almost humorous, but there was a shake in her voice that olive read as a storm siren, scarily close to something disastrous.

olive sighed. it wasn’t her parents’ fault, and she knew that. olive knew her wording could be taken as offensive, but she just couldn’t see it until after the words were already out, until they were of no use to anyone. “no, just,” she tried, then gave up, figuring maybe she just needed some sleep to make her brain work again. “goodnight. love you both.” she’d try again tomorrow.

danica and jerry seemed to soften a bit at this, each quietly returning the sentiment in harmony with olive’s soft footsteps up the staircase, wooden panels giving a comforting creak under her socks, some reminder that she was a physical body, that her weight could be felt.

tomorrow will be better, olive thought as she unzipped one of her suitcases, pulled out her pajamas and got changed. what she really wanted to do was sink into her bed, sleep the day off and start fresh in the morning.

“fifteen minutes,” she murmured to herself, her bag of skincare products in one hand, phone and ring light clawed in the other. “just fifteen minutes.”

after several years of practice, olive could crank out a get unready with me video in just a few moments, but something about setting up her tripod and lighting mechanisms in her childhood bathroom was intimidating, the crossover of worlds leaving her sluggish and self-conscious.

her apartment in los angeles was practically built for this kind of thing, all ample storage and spacious countertops, and this room was built to be exactly what it was: a child’s bathroom. it offered not much other than backlighting and cramped corners, faded wallpaper and shower curtains yellowing towards the corners.

olive quickly set up, took a deep breath and summoned a smile, the one reserved for this - the one for video and film and interviews and social media posts. just big enough to appear genuine, just subdued enough to be sexy, mysterious. once the camera was rolling, she ran through her nighttime routine, highlighting the moisturizer she was being paid to endorse, before quickly cutting the clips and typing out a caption: get unready with me at home! She sent the video to her management to be approved by the brand before turning off her harsh light and setting it next to her bag on the closed toilet lid.

even after several years of working in social media, several years of visiting home every now and then, it felt weird to mix the two of them together, almost like a middle school science project with oil and water, like no matter how hard she tried for it to be a natural fit, the two would always make their repulsion known.

olive brushed her teeth, her phone buzzing as she spat into the sink. With so much of her life existing on her phone, such an occurrence was mundane, but the name that lit up her screen made her blink at herself in the mirror, made the overhead light feel hot, simmering.

are the rumors true? read the message, is the starlet back in town?

olive sighed, couldn't help the tiny smile that pulled at the corner of her lips, regardless - even though she was no starlet, even though the thought of small-town rumors made her breath feel short and shallow.

as much as coming home made her want to tear out her hair extensions one by one, as much as the monotonous judgment from this town made her almost dizzy, there was one thing, or one person rather, whose relentless sameness olive looked forward to, every time, without fail.

that person was russell mcIntyre.

olive had known russell practically forever, or at least for what felt like forever, ever since he and his family moved next door the summer before they started middle school. she still remembered seeing him for the first time, watching from her big bedroom window as he carried boxes from his mom's minivan up his driveway.

it had started as all lovely things did - so naturally it was hard to pinpoint how exactly it had started. olive swore she could remember his green eyes meeting her brown ones through the window, his unruly curly hair in his face, like he’d only just woken up, the easiest smile she’d ever seen slanting across his mouth, only barely visible above battered cardboard flaps. still, she didn't dwell on what exactly had been the beginning of her and russell, knowing it didn’t really matter how it began, only that it was.

all olive really knew was that throughout middle school and high school, russell had been her everything. her school bus seat buddy, her locker neighbor, her smile shared across the classroom.

he was the one who cheered the loudest at her tennis matches, and she never missed one of his baseball games. he was over hers doing homework every weekday, she was the first person he picked up when he got his license, when he finally could drive his old truck without his anxious mother holding on tight in the passenger seat. russell was her secret language spoken between opposing bedroom windows, curtains pulled far apart so as not to intrude one’s view of the other while they talked.

of course, as he shed his baby face and she got her braces off, things changed a bit, but not really. olive was still his stop it, rus, giggled under her breath when he'd make goofy faces in class, just to get her to laugh.

russell was still her you'll be there, right, kid? spoken so earnestly on the morning of a playoff game, something like worry clouding his usually relentlessly bright eyes. worry that had floated away when she’d hugged him close, mumbled her of course into his chest.

his constant support, his never-wavering smirk of a smile, it had been exactly what she needed during one of the most turbulent times of her life.

high school is weird for everybody, but it was especially weird for olive. she was a people pleaser, an approval seeker, and at some point she began to realize that others weren't always as forgiving as she was, that other people may not give her the benefit of the doubt, as she tended to afford them for free.

it got worse when olive realized that she was pretty.

sometimes, olive felt as if she had been beautiful since she could listen, since she could first turn her gaze on someone and make them feel heard, make them feel seen.

that was a big part of it all - her quiet kindness, combined with that lovely smile, with that careful posture and easy laugh - it seemed that others had become acutely aware of her beauty long before she had. She caught on, eventually.

olive was sixteen when she started to feel the weight of male attention on her in the hallways, when her bare legs in the warm weather started to feel heavy with expectation, when she started to notice how groups of girls would turn and giggle behind their hands when they thought she was just out of earshot.

it was exciting, at first. girls wanted to talk to her, to be close with her. guys wanted to hang out with her. people wanted to give her things, seemingly for nothing. she distinctly remembered one humid night, in russell's bedroom, just after he had driven them both home after his practice. his hair had been damp at the roots, his face still a bit flushed in that rosy way she loved.

he'd been scrolling on his phone while she worked on a geometry problem set, half-focused, the other half telling him about the senior in her economics class who had asked for her snapchat. olive could still picture russell’s narrow gaze, barely looking up from his screen.

"you know he doesn't want to, like, marry you, right, ol?" he'd said, and it was so flippant that it made her pause.

olive had looked up, blinked, felt suddenly so embarrassed she thought she might be sick. "what?" she asked, "yeah, of course, I just-"

"like, he knows nothing about you besides you being hot," russell finished, almost coldly, rolling onto his side on the beanbag he was sprawled across.

and he was right, obviously, but it still felt really mean, felt like tiny drops of flame were pricking at her cheeks. olive felt that she actually might cry.

"why do you have to say it like that?" she’d asked, hating how pathetic her voice sounded, how it broke towards the end.

this must have gotten his attention, because when russell finally looked up, his eyes flooded with gentle apology. he let his phone fall to the side, opened up his arms in invitation.

"i’m sorry," he mumbled into her hair when she joined him on his beanbag, let him wrap his arms around her. "'m sorry, ol, know that was mean. i'm just jealous, i think." his tone was so matter-of-fact, not trying to hide anything. olive supposed he had always been like that.

she laughed softly into his breastbone, felt the warmth of him all over her face. "you're jealous?" she asked, "what do you have to be jealous about?"

then he gave olive her favorite kind of smile, the one that gave her butterflies even now, even just at the memory. "maybe 'cause you're in my room, and you're smilin' 'cause of some other guy," he mused, which made her look up at him, find his gaze drenched in completely genuine adoration.

she hummed.

"and i've been trying to get you to see that i like you, and it hasn't been working-"

her heart stuttered, because of course she liked russell. how could she not, when he was her everything? when he had been the one who had declared her special, before everyone else had seemed to catch on?

"you like me?" olive had repeated, almost like a prayer, and his big, beautiful eyes had shimmered with something lovely, something almost bashful.

olive swore she could feel something rumbling against his chest. "well, yeah," he said, "but i don't wanna lose you, kid, so if you don't feel the same way-"

she’d cut him off by pressing her lips to his in a kiss that felt like sunshine, like a sigh of relief, like pillow forts and fall foliage and sunday morning waffles. so, from then on, not only was olive the beautiful girl, she was the beautiful girl dating the budding baseball superstar, her best friend, her everything.

as such, olive was seventeen when she realized that as much as it may have seemed that people wanted to give her things, they wanted to take things from her more. much more. still, as long as she had her small group of friends, and her grades, and her parents, and russell, she told herself she didn't really need everyone to love her.

as long as she was kind and generous and empathetic, everything would be fine.

it grew tough to turn the other cheek all the time, though. especially when guys didn't seem to respect that she was in a relationship, when people were starting rumors about her sleeping around, when girls tried to get with her boyfriend just to prove they could take him from her. they were never successful, but it hurt nonetheless.

still, she would go to every one of russell's games, as long as he would jog to the fence afterwards to give her a goofy kiss, like he'd missed her, even for just the few hours he'd been playing.

olive would ignore the snide comments in the stands about her outfits as long as he'd whistle afterwards, wrap his arms around her waist, pull her back against him and tell her that he almost dropped an easy ball in the third because she had looked so distracting.

she’d let people assume that she was dumb and obnoxious and entitled as long as he'd ask her about her advanced calculus tests, her data analytics internship over the summer, her speech and debate competition. and that was enough. for high school, that was enough.

inevitably, it became clear that people wanted what olive had, no matter what it was, no matter how hard she had worked for it.

olive was eighteen when she realized that she could make a career out of people wanting things that she had.

as much as her parents didn’t seem to believe her, social media was something olive stumbled upon accidentally.

just a random post one day, a couple of pictures of her on the tennis court, a few of her in the stands at one of Russell's games, and rather suddenly, olive was flushed with followers and likes, more than she knew what to do with.

of course, this only made the rumors worse, but her real friends thought it was funny, and russell thought it was awesome, so she didn't mind. she just continued posting exactly what she always did - her outfits and weekends and dinners and the like - nothing crazy, always tasteful, always genuine.

it was only a matter of time before brands were reaching out to her, before she suddenly had the need for management, before her social media accounts actually started to become a source of income.

even at the very beginning, olive recognized how lucky she was for this to even be an option for her - how it was mostly because of something as shallow as appearances, how there was nothing more vain, more potentially vapid than social media.

she never cared about the numbers of it all though, never looked twice at pictures of herself, never scrolled through her comments. russell was always the first to like her posts anyways, always commenting first! followed by a string of incoherent emojis, usually including the flame one. once it started to become a business, olive let it be just a business, trying her absolute hardest not to invest any personal stock into her work, making sure to turn her phone off as often as possible.

russell would text her, too, after she posted, something like love the filter on the second photo! or quite the handsome hand in the fourth :) about a picture of her coffee that he was holding. enough to let her know that he looked at every picture, that he supported her unconditionally, even though olive herself sort of thought the whole ordeal was kind of suspicious, that social media was dumb and not worth anyone's time. her skepticism of her own work was something of an obstacle then and something of constant now.

given the flash-flood-like nature of her success, olive was at a bit of a crossroads towards the end of high school. she wanted to get a college degree, that was non-negotiable, but it seemed too good to be true that she could be paid just for being herself online, just for developing a personal brand. it seemed too good to pass up.

before she knew it, it was time to apply for university, and it only made sense for olive to aim at schools in los angeles, across the country, but right in the arrhythmic heart of her industry.

olive was a good student too, and a hard worker, a quick learner, so she was accepted to her top choice, a school that her parents could brag to their friends about, if they wanted to.

everything about olive’s choice made logical sense.

just as it only made sense for russell to play for the state school, the reigning champions of their respective league and only a forty-five minute drive from granite falls.

he’d been getting recruited since he was a freshman, and even though he offered every day, the thought of russell changing his whole plan and future for her made olive nauseous.

long distance loomed over the two of them like a thunderous cloud, and the weight of it felt more deadly than just calling it off, even though splitting up with Russell was still the most painful thing olive could remember enduring.

she vividly remembered him dropping her off at the airport, insisting on carrying her suitcases all the way to security, even if he had to leave his truck idle in the departing flight zone, even though he was definitely going to get a ticket about it.

of course, she still remembered how his bright eyes had gone glassy, how he still tried to smile despite his slightly quivering bottom lip. how he'd shuddered in her embrace when she hugged him goodbye. how small his broad shoulders had seemed.

"you'll come back, kid?" he'd asked, almost pleaded, into her neck.

"of course, rus," she’d said, but even the memory of the words felt weightless. "don't forget to call me, okay? every day, if you can."

he had laughed, short and choppy, wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, like the child that he had been. his voice was wobbly. "i’d never forget," he said, and it had felt true then.

and so olive and her everything went separate ways. she fell into a routine in california, balanced school and her relatively new job as an influencer. russell had a routine of his own, too, practice and lifts and games and the odd class here and there.

she called everyday, in the beginning, heard about how everyone was really good on rus’s new team, how he was nervous on the field for basically the first time ever, how classes were hard and everything was hard without her.

olive told him about how smart and cool the girls in her classes were, how she really, really wanted them to like her, how she found herself going to baseball games in the fall just because it felt familiar, something to recognize in an unfamiliar fairytale land.

he'd gotten a sad sort of tone in his voice at that. "how's their shortstop?" he had asked, and her stomach had flipped, because that was his position, and she had a feeling she knew what he was looking for, the only answer that would satisfy him.

"i've seen better," olive had whispered into her phone, the weight of missing him like an anvil on her chest.

even though she and russell weren't together, at that time, in the technical sense of the word, it still sort of felt like they were.

there were guys, sure, and she could only guess what a hit russell was with the sorority end of greek row. olive wasn’t typically a jealous person, but something sickly rolled through her body at the thought of russell being someone’s class crush, of someone looking him up on the roster after seeing him play. it was a jealousy that she wasn’t necessarily entitled to, but it was there nonetheless.

olive pretended not to notice, over facetime, when there would be purplish bruises on the column of his throat. she pretended not to notice how angry it made her that someone else knew what his pulse felt like under their lips, especially when it was that feeling in particular that had made its way into her dreams.

just as russell probably pretended not to notice when the back of some other guy's head would make an appearance in one of olive’s posts, just intriguing and secretive enough to run up the comments, to make her interaction data spike.

even during those years apart, russell still liked every single one of her pictures, still texted her about almost every one of them, but for those ones, the ones that shimmered with someone-else-ness, he was notably silent. during those times, olive would find herself checking her phone even without a ping-like notification, like her want alone could will his name onto her screen.

neither of them seemed to like the notion that one had an entire life away from the other. both of them seemed to agree that what they couldn’t see right in front of them couldn't hurt them, as long as they didn’t let it.

every school break though, without fail, the two of them would come home and fall back into whatever they were, without explicitly saying what that was.

What olive knew was that when they were home for thanksgiving, or christmas, or a week in spring, or whatever else, her phone would light up with a text like heard you're around?

usually the night that followed would involve huddling together on the massive bean bag that was still in his room, pretending to watch a movie for a half-hour or so before his lips found hers and her hands found the warm plane of his chest. the air would be hot with the unspoken truth of just one more time, just until i leave, just for a second because i missed you.

he never treated her differently, never made fun of her job, even though it would have been so easy to, never was anything but supportive. he was the same gangly boy walking up his driveway, and she was the same shy girl looking at him from her bedroom window, even if that shy girl now had hair extensions and a bit of lip filler and received invitations to black-tie events.

russell never seemed to care about all of that, anyways, even as years went on, and they both returned home less and less, texts and calls becoming less frequent, the distant presence of the other like the lull of a fan at night, a relaxant, a constant white noise, a standard off of which to judge everything else.

now, as olive turned the light out in the bathroom and walked towards her bed, she stared out her window, could almost make russell out in the one just across from her if she tried. the image of him wasn’t particularly hard to evoke, always waiting just in the wings of the playwright’s perfectly scripted performance in her mind. olive leaned back against her headboard, stared at the text. there was a bittersweet sort of taste in her mouth, because this actually would be the last time.

olive and russell had both graduated about a month ago, and after being picked in the draft by the team he had grown up cheering for, he had moved back home to play for their minor league affiliate, not even twenty minutes from his parents’ house, hoping to gain enough traction to eventually earn a spot in the big leagues.

this time would be olive's last routine visit home, one she hoped to spend packing and shipping all of her stuff back to la. the move only made sense. she had an absurd amount of followers now, and all her biggest partners were located in southern california. olive couldn’t really afford to make decisions that didn’t make sense, at this point in her life, in her career.

this would be her last routine visit home, and then upstate new york wouldn't be home anymore. los angeles would officially occupy that space in her life. the thought wasn’t as comforting as she hoped it would be.

olive pulled her blush-colored comforter up to her chin, thinking about what to respond, if she even should respond. the last time she’d seen russell, the last time they’d both been home, they’d done what they always did - fall back into each other so easily it felt like falling asleep. but that couldn’t happen this time, olive reminded herself. when she left granite falls this time, she was leaving for good. her exit would be smoother if she didn’t follow russell into any territory other than the friendly kind.

they had been friends at first, all that time ago, after all. how hard could it be to go back to that?

i'm home but we can't fuck because i think i’ll cry if we do! olive typed, then promptly deleted. she sighed, exhaled some of her anxiety, willed herself to just be normal. barely in the driveway, she sent instead, how did you already know?

got eyes and ears everywhere, russell sent back almost immediately, and she could practically see his smug smile. it lit up her dark room like a night light. told dyl at the library to watch for your car.

olive had no idea who dyl was, but figured she’d probably meet him. she softened to russell’s message, but it made her feel sort of guilty too, with the knowledge that she would be blindsiding him some time soon. yet he was, telling his friends to watch for her car, like her arrival was something special, something worth waiting for.

she didn’t know what to say then, so olive just set her phone on her bedside table and tried not to let visions of deep green eyes drown her while she slept.

fin. until next time.

#hockey #nhl #nhl fic #hockey fic #oc #tyson jost #writing #creative writing #rom com #buffalo sabres #colorado avalanche #carolina hurricanes

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suika-suigetsu · 2 days ago

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Quick question what are your fav Yaoi and Yuri Ships in The Narutoverse? Just curious lol

Sorry to answer your quick question with a long text, but I'm just like this... 🥹

So, since I was a kid, I never watched Naruto thinking about couples, I was never a "stan", as they say. I just loved the story and the characters.

It was only very recently, when I started to like the character Suigetsu and researched everything about him, that I saw how perfect I think his relationship with Karin is.

I say this because, as much as I like the cannon couples and defend the story of some of them, I do it more because I respect Kishimoto's decision of the ending and because I think it's cute, but I didn't research it in depth to ship it faithfully like I do with SuiKa. But I like to respect what is cannon, even if some have destroyed other ships that I liked more (but I'll never say... 😭)

I ship when I think that, based on the character's story and the context, they make a good couple.

So, here are some same-sex couples I ship (using information that I think makes them perfect for each other):

Itachi x Kisame

I never really thought about it because I'm not a fan of Itachi, but I like Kisame, so I never saw them together romantically. But I've been thinking and researching about it for a few months now, and after seeing some cute art of them, I'm even more convinced.

I think Kisame fell in love first, and like Sasuke, I don't think Itachi was emotionally mature enough to reciprocate, but as an artist, I plan on pretending that they had a lot of loving moments together and I'll draw them as soon as I have time (I already have some sketches). 🩷

Gaara x Rock Lee

I don't like shipping characters that I feel have a more "innocent" aura. Rock Lee, Jugo, Mitsuki... I see them as babies. But I like to hear everyone's opinion and, sometimes, they convince me.

I like GaaLee nowadays, even though I don't have much information for it, but I just like the idea that the two of them are single parents who share a mutual love for each other and their children, and I also think that Rock Lee's energy would make Gaara's life happy, since he has such a sad past...

Izumo x Kotetsu

I don't need to say anything, right? They've been cannon since the first chapters they appeared, that's just a fact. They're stuck together like nails and flesh, nowadays they must be living together and traveling the world on a never-ending honeymoon. 💖💖💖

A little steal on the list: Sakura x Karin

This one doesn't make any sense, I only shipped them when I was younger, I didn't care about Suigetsu and I hated Sasuke. I just wanted them to use their love for Sasuke to get closer and form a couple, and they were my favorite female characters 🥹🥹 Obviously I don't think that way anymore nowadays, but I'll still draw them together a lot just because I really like it lol.

Another little steal: SuiKarin

Haha, I know it doesn't fit here, but I just think they love each other too much and have enough experience to have tried a lot of things together. After Naruto invented the Sexy jutsu, anything is possible, right? I still want to draw SuiKarin yaoi and SuiKarin yuri... I'm looking forward to it 🫣🫣

Now, other couples that I find cute when I see them, but I don't have enough information to ship them:

Kakuzu x Hidan (I think Hidan would be easy with Kakuzu, but Kakuzu seems too shallow to be with anyone...? Although Hidan seems to be very convincing when he wants to be...), Sasori x Deidara (I'm not just talking about sexuality here, but also about feelings. If Sasori still loves his parents, he can love someone romantically, and I think it's cute to think of him with Deidara. But that said, I didn't feel any chemistry between them in the scenes where they appear together. I'm rewatching Naruto now, maybe my opinion will change, and I hope it does, because I think the art of them together is really cute...), Jiraya x Orochimaru and Tsunade (This is another steal from the list, I shipped them when I was younger, haha. I just think they're a trio that only works if the three of them are together, and if it's just two of them, it doesn't work, you know? It's a hc I've had for a long time. Unfortunately, it didn't come to fruition... In fact, I have another ship with 3 people that I think would close the anime with a flourish, but I'll never be able to say which one it is publicly... 🥹)

Just about Kiri and the Swordsmen of the Mist

I think that just like in Akatsuki, they (the Seven) must have had romances between them too. And unlike Konoha, Kirigakure doesn't seem to care so much about marriage, starting a family and things like that... In fact, I don't know if it's cannon (I don't think so), but it really struck me when I saw in the anime that one of the call girls that Jiraya went out with was married to one of the men that Jiraya captured to get information about Pain. I still think to this day "wow, the people of Kiri are so bold..." .

Anyway, thinking about Kisame's story, they even avoided that (love someone). So I think there had a lot of "quick romances", maybe with more than one person at the same time. They weren't very emotional, you know? Life was hard, just killing and missions... So relationships were just a way to de-stress. That's one of the things that made me ship ItaKisame, because I think that even though he thought that way just because he grew up among the cold population of Kiri, Kisame ended up falling in love with Itachi after knowing him more than he knew anyone else.

Spending time with companions ends up breaking the coldness, even of assassins, so I think there must have been couples who loved each other within the Seven, but I just don't have enough information to know who would end up with who. Give me information, Kishi... 😭

I'm sorry for being so annoying about ships 🥹 But I really like having evidence that makes me like the couple. There are cannon couples that I don't like at all, even though I drew them...... And there are others that I love, but like with SuiKarin, we'll never have confirmation... But since things are complicated on the internet, I prefer to keep my opinion about them to myself.

Thanks for reading. 🩷

#itakisame #gaalee #izumo x kotetsu #akatsuki #seven swordmen of the mist #suikarin

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random-meme-bot · 1 year ago

Text

HEXES ON THE SHELVES - CHAPTER 1 - LITTLE (BOOK) STORE OF HORRORS IS OUT NOW ON AO3!!!!

Elisabeth was a pretty normal girl, until one day she got involved on a car accident that changed her forever, when she woke up she realized that her life will never be the same, mostly because she now was able to see and hear ghosts. A few years have pass since that, and Elly has finally started to grow acostume to all the changes in her life, new town, new house, new ghostly roomate, new failures in her mission to help ghosts move on to the afterlife...

Just as things were starting to look stale a new "case" presents itself, and Elly has tricked the poor people that told her about the hauted place into tricking her, I'm sure this will be just another easy job with nothing out of the ordinary and without any reprecursions to Elly in the long run...

This is a completely Original work using my OCs and it's something I've wanted to do for quite some time, it's my first ever fic so expect it to be a bit rough around the edges, but hopefully the writing will improve as we go.

Edit: THE COVER ART IS FINALLY DONE (as you can already see) HERE'S THEIR OWN SEPARATE POST

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soaps-mohawk · 3 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Summary: In life, we will be confronted with difficult choices. Sometimes you won't know you've made the wrong choice until it's too late

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 12,582 words

Warnings: Dead dove: do not eat, Angst, graphic violence and torture, mentions of predatory behavior towards a minor, Phillip Graves is a major creep, lots blood and injuries, kidnapping and its aftermath, hostage situations, anxiety and panic attacks, language, very explicitly described torture, ‘mega gets hit a lot, choking, biting, ‘mega gets stabbed with an ice pick, author can’t write COD missions, vomiting, lots of heavy emotions, detailed descriptions of pain, guns, background character dies on screen, descriptions of guilt and grief, lots of POV changes, some descriptive language of gore and blood at the end, rehashing of ‘mega’s injuries from the last chapter, a lot of angst and very heavy content, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe

A/N: This chapter deals with some pretty heavy content. Please, please, please read and heed the warnings. I have included content warnings for the more graphic parts before they happen, so if you don't want to read those, you can skip ahead to the next part. I suggest taking breaks if you need to, read it in installments if necessary. And I cannot stress it enough, please heed the warnings.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“Hi darlin’.” His grin widens like he’s happy to see you. “Been a long time.”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, your brain still sluggish. You feel sick as you try to process, try to figure out why and how. You try to move your arms again, but your wrists are stuck, hands burning as you pull. You desperately want them free, desperately need them free.

“Easy,” Phil says, putting his hands on yours, pushing them flat against the arms of the chair. They’re warm and calloused, the same hand that had been on your face a few moments ago. “You’re gonna hurt yourself. More than you already have been.” He lifts your left leg, making you groan quietly as a deep ache throbs down to your foot and up to your hip.

Running. A gunshot. Pain.

“He had strict orders not to harm you.” Phil says, adjusting the bandage wrapped around your calf. “Don’t worry. We got you all fixed up.” He sets your leg back down gingerly, his touch lingering for a moment before he looks back up at you.

“Why?” You croak out, trying to make sense of what happened.

Corporal McKinney broke into the barracks and chased you into the woods. He shot you and drugged you and now you’re here, restrained in a chair staring at a man you haven’t seen for years. A man who was once your dad’s best friend.

“A lot has happened since we saw each other last.” He says, pushing himself to stand. “I left the Marines after a few years, formed my own group of military contractors. Invited your dad to join, but you know how he is. All honor and duty and serving the country. Of course, you haven’t seen him in quite a while, have you?”

You stare up at him, starting to get scared. You never liked Phil. There was always something about him that put you off. He always stared too long, always sat too close to you. He always greeted you with a hug that lasted too long, squeezing you too tightly against him. He was sweet on you in a way he wasn’t with anyone else. He could be intense, brash and almost downright rude sometimes. He was a firm believer in traditional packs too, even if he never spoke about his own pack, his own omega. He had to have one, if he was as dedicated as he said.

He was far too much like your father.

Phil was always kinder to you, though. Softer. Not quite as callous and bellicose as your father in public. He was polite, always happy to lend a hand, always glad to roughhouse with your brothers to get their energy out. You saw the way your mother looked at him though. Perhaps her apprehension bled into you, those dormant omega instincts picking up on something she was projecting.

He made you uncomfortable, and she knew it.

What could an omega do, though, in a world where they don’t have opinions, they can’t argue, they can’t disagree. Your mother never said anything because in the world your family existed in, the world Phil existed in, she couldn’t.

“He was so angry when he called.” Phil continues, staring down at you. “Ranting and raving about how his oldest daughter betrayed him by presenting as an omega. He couldn’t stand having such a useless child in his perfect pack.” You flinch at his words, even though you heard your father spew those very words after your presentation firsthand.

“He called you?” You ask, the pieces starting to come together as your brain finally snaps fully into awareness. You knew he called someone, but you hadn’t thought it would ever be Phil.

“Of course.” Phil chuckles. “We were good friends, pals, buddies. He knew I could help him.” A shiver runs down your spine. You know what he’s going to say next. “So I did. I have some contacts in some high places, people who owe me favors. So I made some calls, pulled some strings, got you into FIOT immediately, with some strings attached of course.” He leans down so you’re almost face to face. “I wanted you. They put a note in your file. You wouldn’t be placed in the registry when you were old enough, you would go to me and my pack.”

Bile churns in your stomach as you process his words. It all makes sense now. The stares, the hugs, the closeness with your father, your rapid enrollment in an institute that can take weeks to process applications. It was all so you could be his. Something he’s wanted from early on.

“You would have been mine,” He pushes himself up straight again, starting to pace back and forth in front of you. “If the fucking CIA hadn’t gotten involved!” You flinch as his voice raises, the frustration starting to darken his scent. “They froze your file, made the claim null and void. All for what, their little initiative that never really existed in the first place?” He huffs out a laugh, a smirk tilting his lips. “Small world, though. Who knew we’d be seeing each other again after so long.”

He steps closer, looking down at you. You hold his gaze, suddenly feeling afraid. Even though you know him, even though you spent a good part of your childhood around him, you’re afraid of him right now. Your mind starts to revert back, the urge to lower your eyes, break eye contact like you’re supposed to flashing through your mind.

Don’t stare alphas in the eyes. They’ll take that as a challenge. It’s not your job to challenge them. Your job is to be subservient.

You would have been subservient to him if the CIA hadn’t gotten involved. You would have been under his control, bowing to him and his will. You’d have pups by now, at least one. He’d always talked about having a big pack with lots of pups someday, always glancing at you when he said it.

You’re going to vomit all over him.

It’s not just the truth that scares you, though. You’re being held captive here. That thought has registered in your mind now, the reality settling in as you get over the shock of the last few minutes. Corporal McKinney kidnapped you from base, and now you’re restrained in a chair surrounded by unknown alphas. Phil isn’t going to help you, take pity on you. He’s not here to be nice, to have a little chat and catch up on life.

That possibly ended as soon as he was denied what he wanted.

His hand cups your chin, holding your face up as he looks down at you. His thumb is rough as it strokes your jaw, a tickling feeling starting in the back of your mind again. There’s an almost bittersweet look in his eyes as he holds your gaze. You refuse to lower it, refuse to give him that satisfaction. “You’ve grown up a lot.” He says, his hand sliding down your neck to the collar of your shirt. “You always were cute, though. I knew early on you were going to be an omega. You were far too...calm and compliant compared to your brothers. Always so polite and eager to please. You can tell if you pay attention, you know. Those dormant instincts start to show themselves long before presentation.”

His hand pulls your collar to the side, revealing your mark. His eyes harden as he stares at it, his lips turning down into a frown. A shiver runs down your spine as the darkness in his scent intensifies. He’s not holding you hostage just to tell you about what could have been, what direction your life might have taken. He’s here for a reason, and you know your pack is involved. Something has happened, something behind the scenes, something John was looking into.

“What’s going on?” You ask as he releases your collar, taking a step back.

“Well, you’re being held hostage.” He says, like it isn’t already obvious. “You’re...shall we say...leverage to ensure your pack follows orders.”

You blink at him. You haven’t heard from or spoken to your pack in weeks. You should be relieved that they’re apparently still alive, but what if you had been right and they don’t want you anymore? Why would they take you if your pack has abandoned you? Or did they take you to ensure they wouldn’t...

“Laswell stuck her nose somewhere it shouldn’t have been.” Phil says, crossing his arms. “It’s only so long before your pack finds out. Let’s just say...they’re not going to be happy about it. So, to ensure they don’t do something impulsive and reckless as they are known to do, you’re going to play hostage.”

You gulp as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling very afraid. Your scent spikes in the air, clouding it with the bitter scent of anxiety. It was the plan all along. You knew it even if you hadn’t been told outright. Deep down you’ve always known it wasn’t about strengthening packs. It wasn’t about studying how an omega would increase or decrease the efficiency of military packs. With the events of the last few months, the idea had started to form in your mind. You know you weren’t alone in those thoughts. John and Simon were digging into the cameras for a reason. They were put up for a reason.

It was always about control.

That was the point of the initiative. That was why they put cameras up, that was why General Shepherd was so invested in the state of your pack and if you had been mated. He needed to ensure you were close enough to them so if something happened that wasn’t supposed to, you could be used against them.

You’re nothing more than leverage.

Your scent spikes in the air, clouding the room as reality sinks into you. Something happened that caused this. Something called your pack away to isolate you, to leave you vulnerable. They wanted you alone as a contingency.

Something did happen.

Now you’re here, being held captive by a man you used to know, a man who could have been your alpha had things not played out the way they did. The thought has your stomach churning. How far will they go? How far will Phil take things? Could he be merciful because of your history? Or will his ruined plan make him more ruthless?

You’ll be punished for something you can’t control.

Phil makes a soft sound as he looks at you, shaking with fear in the chair. “Don’t be scared. As long as your pack does as they’re told, I won’t have to hurt you.” He turns the light back to face you, nearly blinding you. “Now, smile for the camera.”

They’re safe.

It had been close. A rough position to be in, but they managed it. He never doubted them and their abilities, but four against nearly fifty with no backup were not good odds. He’s been in tighter places before, and while he had his doubts, he is grateful Johnny and Simon were sent in when they were. Even if it was a bit suspicious.

“All accounted for.” John says as he sinks down onto one of the jump seats next to Kyle.

They’re all battered and bruised from their final fight. He’s ready to get home, ready to get back to you. From the sound of it, things were not going well, according to Johnny and Simon. He has a lot to make up for, a lot of apologies to make.

“Fucking Russian PMCs.” He says, speaking to Kate over the comms. “It’s not a coincidence Kate.”

Kate lets out a sigh that crackles through the comm. “No, it’s not. My team and I came across some information while we were digging into the cameras.”

“What information?” He asks slowly and carefully. He doesn’t like being kept in the dark, especially when it comes to his pack. Especially when it comes to you.

“Not just information on the initiative, but information on General Shepherd.”

“What information?” He asks again, slower this time as Johnny and Simon move in closer.

“Shepherd was the one that sold those weapons to AQ and the Russians.”

John looks at the other three members of his team. He knew something was wrong, something was off about the way Shepherd had acted while informing them about this mission. “He wanted those missiles found and destroyed so he could cover his own ass.” He says, his stomach starting to twist. He doesn’t like the way this is going.

“But we found out the truth before you could find all the missiles.” Kate continues. “He sent you on a wild goose chase to give himself a chance to escape.”

John’s hand tightens into a fist. “Where is he now?”

“He’s gone dark. Totally off radar.”

John pushes himself up to stand, the adrenaline pumping again. “I’m going to find that bastard-”

“John.” Kate says, cutting him off. “There’s something else.”

The twisting in his stomach intensifies. There’s a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to entertain the dark thoughts that are brewing. “What?”

“They took your omega.”

His stomach clenches, his breath catching in his lungs. The other three shift on their feet, all of them stepping closer. The scent in the plane thickens, anger and confusion mixing into a toxic cocktail. He hopes he heard that wrong, that there was some kind of interference in the connection and his brain made up the words he missed. “Repeat that.”

“They took your omega.” Kate says again.

He lets out a long breath, his muscles tensing. He’s had a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind for the last few days. Something was wrong, something was off. He should have known it was all a ruse. Why would AQ and the Russians store a missile in any of the places they had been sent to in the last week? It hadn’t made sense, and he had wanted to voice his doubts, but the consequences of a missile being launched because they decided not to look in one place was greater than his own perceived doubts.

They had been right though.

Of course it had all been a plan. Of course there had been something fishy about it. He’s hardly ever wrong. He’s been praised on his instincts on the field and off. He should have known. Pulling Simon and Johnny when they did should have been enough evidence, even if they had been needed in the end.

“You’re positive?” He knows she is. There’s no mistaking something like that, there’s no doubting it.

“There’s a video.” Kate says, John’s stomach dropping. “I’m sending it to you now.”

John pulls out his phone, his fingers white as he holds it up. He’s angry, beyond angry. If they’ve laid a hand on you...if you’ve been hurt because of his own failings, his own inability to see the truth...

He clicks on the video when it comes in, a familiar face popping up on screen. “Hi boys. Been a while.”

“Fucking Graves.” Johnny growls, his hands closing into fists in anger.

“I have a little something of yours I think you might be interested in.” He turns the camera around, your face popping up on screen. You’re restrained in a chair, wrists red from the zip ties, but there’s a glare on your face, looking as mean and threatening as you can. There’s a bruise on your cheek and what looks like a healing cut on your lip. Someone hit you.

“Smile for the camera.” Graves says, a bit too cheerfully.

You don’t smile, your glare sharpening as the camera gets closer to your face. There’s still fight left in you. Whatever has happened hasn’t been too bad. Yet.

“Let’s make this simple.” Graves says. “You stay away from Shepherd, and I won’t have to hurt this pretty little face. She is pretty, isn’t she?”

You shift in the chair, your leg lifting before you kick outward.

“Ow, you little bitch.” The camera jostles for a moment before it’s straightened back up, a hand shooting out to wrap around your throat. There’s no sign of any struggle, the glare still prominent on your face. “Feisty thing. Gotta keep up with those wild boys somehow.”

The hand tilts your face just slightly, showing the mark on your neck. It is you, not that John doubted that from the beginning. It may have been almost two months, but he wouldn’t forget your face that easily.

“Like I said,” Graves continues. “Follow your orders and she’ll be released unharmed.”

The screen goes dark and John resists the urge to throw his phone. He shoves it back into his pocket, turning towards the wall of the plane. He throws his fist against the metal as hard as he can. It hurts, but he can barely feel it over the rage burning hot in him.

“Fucking Shepherd!” He shouts, rearing back to throw his hand against the wall again.

Graves has his omega. Graves has his omega and now you’re being used as leverage. They’re all being played like puppets.

A hand catches his fist before he can punch the wall again, easing him back. “Easy.” Kyle says, trying to soothe him as best he can. “We have proof of life, we know that she’s alright for now.”

“For now.” He growls, looking around at the members of his team. “But for how long?”

“They knew we’d go after Shepherd as soon as we learned the truth.” Simon says. “This has been in the plans for a long time.”

“They’re trying to get us to make a choice. Focus on getting our omega back while letting Shepherd escape, or go after Shepherd and let our omega be tortured.” Kyle says.

“Those fuckin’ wankstains.” Johnny says, shifting on his feet. He’s angry, the bitter scent filling the enclosed area of the plane. They’re all angry, angry at those responsible, and angry at themselves for falling for it. “They were usin’ us the whole time.”

John lets out a long breath. It’s a hard decision to make. Go after Shepherd and cut the head off the snake, or go after you and let the person orchestrating all of this escape. Graves won’t stop, even if they do manage to take out Shepherd. He has his orders, and he will follow them, with or without Shepherd pulling the strings.

There might be a second contingency. They kill Shepherd, you die too.

No matter what, you won’t be safe. If they go after you, Shepherd escapes and if they try to hunt him down later, he’ll use you again, or worse. They don’t have to kill Shepherd, though. They have proof he’s a traitor. He can be brought to justice if he’s caught. Death is too gentle of a punishment for what he’s done. He deserves to rot in prison for the rest of his life.

They have to make sacrifices for the good of the world.

“We’re going after Shepherd.” He says, taking a deep breath. “None of us will be safe if we don’t.”

“That’s dangerous, John.” Kate says. “We don’t know how far Shepherd or Graves will take this. You know how Graves is. He may not be able to be stopped, even if Shepherd tells him to.”

He takes a second to breathe. His pack is silent, all three of them staring at him, waiting for him to make this decision. He is pack alpha, he is their Captain. They do what he tells them to do, follow his orders no matter what. Kate is right, this is a risk, but sacrifices have to be made. Hands have to be dirtied to keep the world clean.

He just hopes you’ll forgive him.

“We’re going after Shepherd.” John says definitely.

“This is a bad idea, John.” Kate warns him.

“It’s the only option we have. They’re trying to draw us away. It’s a risk we have to take.” He can see the apprehension on his packmate’s faces. They’re all feeling it, the drive to go after their omega, but deep down he is right. They’ll never be safe until Shepherd is taken care of. Going after Graves only removes one small piece of the puzzle. The job always comes first.

“Get us locations, places he might try to dig in and hide.” He says, heading towards the cockpit. “We’ll find this arsehole and kill him ourselves.

***

Kate lets out a sigh as the comms close off. It’s a mistake. She knows it is. The guilt is eating her alive. She fell for this, she brought you into this, and now you might get hurt because of it. How she didn’t see the reality has shame burning through her. They were all blind, all led astray, all fooled by the red herring.

There was never an initiative. It was never about strengthening packs. It was always about control. They wanted a way to control packs. Shepherd knew if the secret ever came out, there would be no stopping the consequences. Legal or illegal, retribution would come for him if the truth was revealed.

This was his way of stopping it.

That's why the 141 were the guinea pigs.

They are the most dangerous threat to Shepherd, and he handed them a way to control them under the guise of strengthening packs, experimenting on how their dynamics and efficiency would shift with an omega added in. Even worse, they all fell for it.

John is making a mistake. Graves won’t stop so long as Shepherd knows they’re coming after him. The last thing she wants is for you to get hurt because of their decisions, their mistakes. Shepherd won’t order Graves to kill you. That’s too much of a risk. It would give the 141 nothing to lose, and that would put them at their most dangerous.

Will Graves listen to that order?

She can send out a team to get eyes on Graves, find his position at least. That way, if things do take a turn, she’ll at least have a direction to point them in.

They were all too trusting and ignorant. You’re innocent in all of this.

It’s her fault.

They’re going to need help.

Christine can’t sit still anymore. She can't take it. It’s been almost eighteen hours since your disappearance and there’s been nothing. No word, no news. She knows you’re alive. Kate had confirmed that, but that hasn’t eased the burning questions eating away at her mind. What is your current state? Who took you and why? Where is your pack and are they even aware of what’s happening?

She’s been sitting and twirling her thumbs. She can’t bring herself to do any paperwork, any research. What is there to do besides sit and worry? She doesn’t have a patient to take care of because she lost the one she was supposed to watch.

She huffs out a breath, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing Kate. If Kate won’t call, she’ll call herself. Kate’s probably busy though, so Christine can’t blame her too much for not calling. She’s probably so far from the front of Kate’s mind right now.

The phone rings twice before Kate answers, sounding tired and disheveled, just as much as Christine feels.

“Laswell.”

“Kate, I need to be there.” She doesn't hold back, doesn’t try to make small talk. There’s no time for it. She knows how Kate is doing, and it’s not great.

“Christine, I don’t know if I can take that risk.” She says.

“I need to be there. I can't take sitting around here anymore, and when you find her, she’s going to need someone she knows there, someone that knows how to take care of her.” Christine lets out a breath, the relief of getting her thoughts out taking some of the weight off her shoulders.

Kate sighs, but she has to know Christine is right. She’s not sure what state you’re in, and depending on how bad it is, and where your pack is, you’re going to need her. Even if you think she was behind this. “I’ll have a plane ready to go in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Kate.” She says, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t miss the flight.”

Christine hangs up, gathering a couple things from her office before closing and locking her door. She nearly runs to her barracks, packing a bag quickly. She’s not sure what to bring, or how long this will take. She’s not even sure exactly where she’s going.

She hurries to the airfield, phone in hand. She’s not sure where the plane is or which one she’s taking. She’s just relieved Kate is doing this for her.

Her phone buzzes as she reaches the tarmac, making her puse. She lets out an annoyed sigh before answering the call.

“Of course you have to call at the worst possible moment.” She says.

“I’ve always had the worst timing.” Alex’s voice comes through the speaker, and she can almost hear the smile on his face.

“I can’t talk long. I’m about to board a plane.” She says.

“I know. We’ll pick you up on the tarmac.”

She blinks in surprise. It’s been years since she’s seen her brother, months since she’s spoken with him. Ever since he retired from Delta Force, his regular calls have been happening less and less, and they’ve reached near radio silence over the last couple years. Now he’s involved in this too?

“Kate called in a favor.” He continues, and that’s all she needs to know. “We’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Yeah.” She says, tears brimming in her eyes as she smiles. Despite everything, she’s glad she gets to see her brother again. Glad she has some support in this. Your pack will be mad. They’ll blame her. She’s not afraid of them, but she knows Alex will stand behind her no

**Content Warning: light torture, ‘mega gets punched, further injury to previous injuries, panic attack**

Your hands are starting to go numb. The constant attempts to free yourself from the zip ties isn’t helping, but you’re beginning to get twitchy. Your omega is scratching at the back of your mind, begging to be free, but you know you won’t survive it. The room is full of armed mercenaries, and you’re sure if you tried to take out Phil first, you’d be pumped full of bullets before you could even do any damage.

He’s leaning against the wall far too casually, staring at the phone he’d used to record the first video of you. His explanation had been simple. Your pack stops going after General Shepherd, you don’t get hurt. The longer they chase Shepherd, the more Phil gets to torture you until they decide your life is worth more than Shepherd’s.

Will they choose you over Shepherd? What if they’ve already decided to abandon you? What if your fears were right and they’ve given up, and that’s why they were gone so long? They won’t care what happens to you, if they have written you off as a burden, as a loss. They’ll let Phil torture you to death and they won’t even blink an eye. You’ll just be another casualty.

It makes your stomach hurt, the idea of your pack letting you die. Even the idea of someone who had once been a friend of your family being so cold towards you has nausea bubbling in your belly. He doesn’t care. His only worry is money, not the past. He doesn’t care. He’ll do the bidding of whoever offers the highest price.

He lets out a sigh, pocketing his phone as he pushes himself off of the wall. “Looks like your boys don’t follow orders well.” He bends down, putting his hands on his knees so he’s face to face with you. “They’ve decided to leave you here with me. Looks like Shepherd was wrong. They don’t really care about you as much as everyone thought they did. Makes me sad, them abandoning you so easily.”

You try to ignore his words, try to convince yourself he’s doing it on purpose, trying to mentally break you. Yet you can’t deny those words play exactly into your doubts, your fears. Have they really left you here, choosing Shepherd over you? Would they decide to do that? How easy had that decision been made?

Tears blur your vision as you stare up at Phil, your eyes burning as you try to put on the bravest face you can. You won’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to you, playing into your fears.

“Unfortunately, that means I have to hurt you.” He stands up straight, staring down at you for a moment before pulling his fist back, hitting you across the face.

You see stars for a moment, your head snapping to the side. The left side of your face is numb, the taste of metal flooding over your tongue. You’re bleeding, blood pooling in your mouth. A hand grips your chin, pulling you back so you’re sitting up straight in the chair. You stare up at Phil, the fear fading away to anger as you glare up at him. Your face is throbbing, and you know it’s going to swell and bruise later, more than it already has thanks to Corporal McKinney.

Traitorous bastard.

They all are.

“I do feel bad for hurting that pretty face.” He says, stroking your jaw with his thumb.

The movement is impulsive, the anger becoming too much. You spit the blood in your mouth in his face, the droplets splattering across his skin. He turns his head away for a moment, bringing his other hand up to wipe at the blood.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He says, looking down at you.

“Fuck you, you fucking creep!” You yell, kicking at him with your bad leg.

He releases your face, catching your leg easily. He pushes his thumb against the bullet wound, all the fight leaving you as pain tears through your body. You let out a scream, trying to pull your leg away but he won’t let you. He holds his thumb there as you scream, the tears streaming down your face.

“Okay, okay please! Please stop!” You beg, the pain radiating up into your hip and side. You can’t take it anymore, your brain starting to go fuzzy as you hyperventilate.

He releases your leg, his hand wrapping around your throat to lift your face. The tears are streaming down your cheeks, mixing with the blood from the cut on your cheek. There’s no sympathy, not even regret in his eyes as he stares down at you.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but if you can’t behave, I’ll have to do just that.” He releases you as you continue to hyperventilate, your eyes starting to glaze. You’re distressing. Will Phil help you? Will he do what he has to do to keep you alive? If you die, there won’t be anything stopping your pack. The entire plan will be over. They’ll go after Shepherd, then they’ll hunt down Phil.

Cold ice water hits you in the face, shocking you back into clarity. Phil is holding the cup of water he’d been letting you drink from periodically. You blink at him as water drips into your eyes, your breaths hitching but far slower than they had been. You’re awake and aware now.

You didn’t even know it was possible to do that.

“Don’t distress on me now.” He says, putting the cup down. “We have so much ahead of us.” He moves around to the back of your chair, bending down until his breath hits your ear. “Besides, you make me help you out of distress, I might not be able to stop myself.”

Your eyes pinch closed as his lips brush the shell of your ear before he stands back up, tears mixing with the icy water still sliding down your face.

Christine nearly runs down the ramp once the plane has stopped on the runway. She’s jet lagged and worn out after eight hours of worrying, but she’s eager not only to finally get some news on you and your status, but to see her brother for the first time in a long time.

It’s not hard to find him.

“Chrissy!” He grins, hugging her tightly.

She has half a mind to complain about the nickname she’d endured her entire childhood, but she can’t find it in her as she hugs her brother tightly. She’s missed him, more than she realized. Their jobs have kept them busy, her with her medical studies and practice, and Alex with...whatever it is he does.

“It’s been far too long.” She says, pulling away from him. She’d love to stand there and hug him for an hour, but she can’t. They have more important things to do. Time is of the essence, if her worst fears are true.

“A lot has happened, a lot has changed.” He says.

She looks him over, spotting the more noticeable changes in comparison to the last time they were face to face. “You could say that.”

“We can talk about it later.” He turns to the other person with him, a woman. “Christine, this is Farah.” He introduces her. “Farah, this is my baby sister Christine.”

“Nice to meet you.” Farah says, shaking her hand.

“You as well.” Christine looks between them for a moment. She knows that look in Alex’s eyes as he looks at Farah.

“We should get moving.” Farah says, ignoring him.

“Laswell has moved off the grid.” Alex says, opening the driver’s side of the SUV.

Smart, if things are as bad as she thinks they are.

Christine gets into the back, letting out a long breath. She’s closer now to finding out what’s happened to you. The guilt is still eating her alive. If she just hadn’t left, if she hadn’t believed the phone call, put it above your safety.

Things might have been worse if she had stayed.

“Kate filled us in about everything.” Alex says as he drives away from the airfield. “At least in regards to the pack and your involvement.”

“There’s some things she’s not telling us.” Farah says. “Though if things are as bad as they sound, I don’t blame her.”

“I don’t know much of anything.” Christine says, staring out the window as they drive out of the city. “I feel like it’s my fault. If I hadn’t left her alone...”

“It’s hardly your fault.” Alex says, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “If this was all planned, there wouldn’t have been anything that would stop it from happening.”

“They might have done worse if you had stayed there.” Farah says, speaking Christine’s own fears aloud.

“I wish I could see her. Make sure she’s alright.” Christine says. “If something happens to her...”

“From what I hear she’s a hardy omega.” Alex says, trying to comfort her. “She’s withstood a lot. She can survive the 141, she’s probably giving them hell as we speak.”

**Content Warnings: light torture, choking to the point of almost passing out, blood, very detailed descriptions of pain, non-fatal stabbing**

It’s getting hard to breathe. Phil’s grip around your throat is getting tighter and tighter, less and less oxygen getting to your bloodstream and your brain. Your mouth has an almost permanent metallic taste as blood drips down your chin. Blood stains Phil’s arm from where you bit him, teeth marks red and angry looking from where they broke the skin.

“You fucking bitch.” He growls, jaw clenched. “Your alpha should have taught you some manners.”

His hand squeezes tighter, cutting the air off entirely. You begin to panic, tugging against the restrains with your raw, cut up wrists. Black dots begin to dance in your vision, your legs straining against the zip ties keeping them attached to the chair. Your hands and feet are going numb, your entire body tingling. This is it. You’re going to be choked to death.

He holds his hand there for a moment, letting you struggle before he lets go and you suck in a gasp of air. You slump over in the chair, blood splattering on the floor as you cough, your throat raw and sore. Tears burn in your eyes as you heave, trying to get the oxygen flowing through your body again.

Phil bends down to your level as you sit there, head hanging as blood drips from your mouth. Your tongue is raw from how many times you’ve bitten it. It’s impossible to tell how much time has really passed. There’s no windows in the room. The only light source is the cracks around the door behind you. Even then with the bright light in your face constantly, it’s hard to tell anything anymore.

“Feisty still, but everyone has their limits.” His hand cups your chin as he stands, lifting your face to follow him. His hand holds the back of your head up as he wipes at the blood under your nose and on your chin almost gently.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you stare up at him, unable to even care anymore that his hand is so close to your neck. All he has to do is move it down just slightly and squeeze and you’ll be unaware of anything around you, at the mercy of his bidding.

That would almost be a relief.

He dumps another icy cup of water over your head, keeping you from slipping too much into a panic. The cold water stings the cut on your chest and the one on your arm as it slides down your shoulders. You’ve lost the ability to feel the throbbing in your calf, numb to most of the pain in your body.

Why haven’t they come for you? Where is your pack?

Have they written you off for good? Was finding Shepherd more important than you?

Phil’s phone goes off, your stomach dropping. He stares at the screen for a second before turning back to you.

You shake your head, the tears cascading down your cheeks. “No,” You start to shake. “No, please-”

“You know I have to, darlin’.” He moves behind you, tugging on your hair to keep your head up as one of his men stands in front of you with a phone in hand.

He counts down on his fingers before pressing record.

“Seems you boys still can’t follow orders. Your omega sure wishes you would.” Phil says as he reaches around your head, holding your chin in his hand. He tilts your head back making you look up at him. “Don’t you, darlin’. Tell them. Tell them how much you wish they’d follow orders.”

You’re still crying, unable to stop as you stare at the camera. They really have given up on you. They’ve deemed you unworthy of saving. They’ve let you sit here and be beat up and tortured all because they put the job first.

They really have given up on you.

Are they even watching?

“Please,” You croak out, half begging your pack to care, half begging Phil to have mercy.

“Since you can’t seem to bring yourselves to care about your own omega,” He shifts slightly, someone handing him something behind you. You catch a glint of metal, your heart rate picking up. You’re panicking, breaths coming in shaky gasps. You know he can do worse. He’s threatened worse, but what is he going to do? “It seems you need a little more...motivation.”

You try to wiggle out of his grasp in panic, wrists bleeding again from tugging at the zip ties. They’re coated in your blood, your leg throbbing but you don’t care. You need to get away, get free. “No, no-”

You let out a scream.

It’s sharp and piercing, but nowhere near the sharp pain in your neck. It fires through your very nerve endings, making you aware of the very cells in your body. It shoots up into your brain, igniting every neuron in your brain. Your very blood feels like it’s boiling, your skin on fire from the pain. Every inhale feels like you’re breathing in sand, and every exhale is like glass shards dragging through your lungs and up your throat. The tears streaming down your face may as well be slicing through layers of skin, every wound pulsing and throbbing with a new kind of angry vengeance.

You’re sobbing, nearly choking on air as the pain continues to pulse in your body. It’s too much, every sensation inside and outside of your body meshing together in an agonizing harmony.

“Shhh.” Phil tries to shush you as he bends down, his cheek resting against the side of your head. “I know, I know. You’ll be alright.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head before letting you go limp in the chair.

Your scream still hangs in the air even after the video ends.

It’s otherwise silent in the room, all eight of them feeling the weight of their decisions on their shoulders. The scents in the air are full of pain and regret and guilt and anger.

“Was that fatal?” Kate asks, breaking the tense silence.

“No.” Christine chokes out, her voice shaky. Her hands are trembling where they’re tucked against her sides. Her arms are crossed over her chest, trying to bring herself some kind of comfort after what she had just watched. “He went for the scent gland. It’s not a fatal injury, unless you go too deep, but he knew what he was doing.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “It’s just incredibly painful.”

Her words hang in the air for a moment, all of them still trying to process what they had just seen.

John slams his hands on the table, all of them jumping. “I fucking told you.” He says, his voice laced with the deep growl of his alpha. “I fucking told you Kate, she should have been flown out here as soon as you made the call.”

“I know.” Kate says, undeterred by his anger. She’s seen it many times, though she’s rarely been on the receiving end of it. “I know, I made a bad call. None of us knew they would take it this far.”

“But we knew something was going on behind the scenes.” John says, still radiating anger. “All precautions should have been taken.”

“There was no guarantee her being here would have stopped them. She might not have been any safer here.” Kate says, trying to ease his anger, even though she knows it’s completely warranted. “This goes far deeper than we thought it did. Even before this plan was set into motion.” She waits a moment, letting the air settle. “A year ago, a convoy was smuggling missiles and other weapons into the Middle East in an off-the-books operation. The convoy was attacked and the missiles and arms were stolen by a Russian PMC group. The operation was conducted under the command of Shepherd, and the soldiers in the convoy were all Shadow Company.”

“That’s how Graves is tied into this.” Kyle says.

“It goes deeper than that.” Kate says, pulling up a file and displaying it on screen. “The missiles and weapons being smuggled weren’t being sent to aid allies in the Middle East. Shepherd sold them to AQ and the Russians. The PMC group that attacked Shadow Company was hired by Shepherd to make it look like an ambush.”

“Fucking weasel.” Simon growls.

“I don’t know how much Graves knows, or how much he helped hide the entire operation, but his ties to this go even deeper.” Kate says, and they all shift closer. “Graves has history with your omega.” She says, pulling up an old photo. “We combed through one of her brothers’ Facebook pages. Found an old photo of her dad with Graves. They served on the same base when her family lived in Texas before Graves left to join MARSOC. She would have still been a child at the time.”

They stare at the photo, Graves clearly identifiable as he stands next to another man, beers in their hands. There’s two other boys in the photo, young and grinning at the camera. Standing in front of Graves is a little girl, a happy grin on her face. They’re all in various combinations of red, white, and blue.

4th of July, they assume.

“That’s how she got into the institute so fast.” John says, staring at the photo. He’s never seen a photo of your father before. You must take after your mother. “Graves pulled the strings.”

Kate nods. “He did, but under the condition he would be the one to claim her when she grew old enough. The CIA wiped out that claim when they froze her file.”

The 141 all shift on their feet, sharing looks. John feels a sick twisting in his stomach at the implications. Your position in the photo suddenly makes sense. Anger burns in him, deep and bubbling like magma. He’ll kill the bastard.

“This is revenge then.” Johnny says.

“In a way, I think.” Kate says. “We took away what he wanted. Graves wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.”

“This all is what the initiative was created for.” Christine says, leaning against the table. “A contingency in case this all was uncovered.”

“A way to control us.” Kyle says.

Kate nods. “Yes. It was all a plan to give the 141 a weakness, a way to be controlled should the situation arise. In this case it just so happened to be the uncovering of his traitorous arms deals.”

“We were all pawns in this.” Christine says.

“We let them walk right in and take control like that.” John says, turning to Christine. “You let them walk in and take our omega.”

She turns to face him, undeterred by his agitation and anger. “I did what I thought was right at the time. I got a call from one of the front desk workers in the med center saying that someone was waiting in my office for me.” She explains. “They wouldn’t say who it was, and the whole thing felt off. I knew whoever would be visiting me was not going to be friendly, so I felt it was safer to leave her in the barracks than take her with me and risk something happening in a place she doesn’t know well. In the barracks at least she’d know places to hide and barricade herself.”

She takes a deep breath, still facing down John fearlessly. He’s coiled tight like a spring, ready to jump at any moment should he deem it necessary. It’s those protective instincts, the knowledge that his omega is somewhere else, taken unwillingly and being tortured feeding into that need to fight.

“My office door was open when I got there.” She continues. “I always leave it locked. I went in prepared to fight, but I was attacked from behind. Hit over the head and drugged with something fast acting, something that would keep me incapacitated long enough for him to strike.” She stares up into his eyes, projecting her scent just a bit to try and get him to calm down. “We all made mistakes here, things we thought were the right choice at the time.”

She’s not wrong. They all know it. They had just seen proof of it.

“The assailant?” John asks, turning back to Kate.

“Corporal McKinney.” Kate says. “He was in Shepherd’s pocket from the start. Someone who could watch first-hand. Someone who could sneak into the barracks unnoticed without many questions. He was likely the one that put the cameras up.”

“Fucking wanker.” Simon growls. “He approached her once in the mess. Early on. Tried to introduce himself to her. Backed off as soon as I intervened. Never tried again, at least that we know of.”

“She never mentioned him.” Christine says. “Or anyone else on base that might have tried to approach her.”

“Where is he now?” Kyle asks. They’re all angry, frustrated. How had they not seen this happening?

“Local police tracked his car to an abandoned airfield not far outside of Hereford.” Kate says. “He was dead inside. Police ruled it suicide.”

“I’m sure it was.” John says.

They all know it wasn’t.

“Shadow Company likely picked her up from there with orders to stage a suicide.” Kate says.

“One less loose string to worry about.” Simon says. “Covers their tracks in England.”

They all go quiet. How this had all happened right under their noses? They’re all guilty of falling for it, for being too trusting in a world they know they can’t be too careful in. Allies can turn on a dime and become enemies. Betrayals can be easily bought. Things can turn downhill within a blink of an eye. They’re supposed to be prepared for the worst, ready for every possibility.

They had written this off as a conspiracy, and now their omega is paying for it.

“We need a plan.” Farah says, breaking the silence.

“We can’t let Shepherd get away.” John says.

“We cannae just leave her.” Johnny argues against his alpha. It’s a brave thing, considering his alpha’s current mental state.

“I don’t know how much more she can take.” Simon backs his beta up, the desperation and pain on your face still visible in all of their minds.

“Let us go after Shepherd.” Alex says, offering up a solution. “He’s obviously watching for you to come after him.”

“We can move undetected.” Farah agrees. “He’s less likely to expect us. You need to focus on your omega. Shepherd will show himself again eventually.”

“Do we have a lead on their location?” Kyle asks, turning back to Kate.

She nods. “We do now. I sent a team out to try and track location through the videos and where they were being sent from.” She pulls a map up on screen. “We have a location.”

“Texas.” Alex says.

“He took her home.” Christine says.

“We have a plan then. We go after Graves, Farah and Alex start tracking Shepherd. Kate is eyes in the sky for us.” John says.

“She’s going to need medical attention as soon as possible.” Christine says. She looks at Kate. “Where is the nearest military base from their location?”

Kate types on her computer. “Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base in Fort Worth.”

“Get me there and I’ll be waiting. She’s going to need someone she knows.” She says, looking at John. “She’s not going to just let anyone close to her after this. She may not even let you close.”

John stares down at her for a long moment. She stares back unflinchingly. She doesn’t get intimidated easily, not after years of dealing with institutes and alphas alike.

He lets out a breath, staring down at her for a long moment before he nods. “I trust you.”

“Short reunion this time.”

“I’m just glad I got to see your face again.” Christine says, looking up at Alex.

“Things are...complicated.” He says. “Maybe after all of this is over we can go and get some coffee. Talk about our lives...as much as we can.”

The corner of her mouth twitches up in a smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Alex pulls her into a hug, holding her tightly. “You’re doing good work, Chrissy.”

She shakes her head at the nickname, but she holds him just as tightly. “I’m trying to.”

Alex pulls away, squeezing her arms. “I’d say you are. You care a lot. To the point some might call it a character defect.”

She scoffs, slapping his chest playfully. “Not like you’re much better.” She glances at the car where Farah is waiting patiently. “I’m happy for you.”

“Oh, we’re....” Alex blushes to his ears. “We’re not...”

She gives him a look. “Mhm sure.” She looks up at him one more time. “Be safe.”

“As best I can.” He says. “Take care of yourself. Don’t be too hard on yourself either.”

“I try not to be.” She squeezes his hand before stepping away.

She watches the SUV drive off, stomach churning with nerves for both of them. Shepherd is dangerous, but Alex has fearlessly faced down danger since he was a kid. He’s always been brave and determined, loyal and unafraid to do what he thinks is right no matter what. She trusts him to take care of himself, she trusts Farah to help him, even if she only met the woman today.

She trusts them both to take care of each other. She trusts them both to help put an end to this.

**Content Warning: Blood, vomiting, 'mega forces herself into a panic attack**

Your body aches, muscles screaming. You can’t take much more. Your cheek throbs painfully, swollen to the point you almost can’t see out of your left eye. The pain burning from your neck makes the other pain in your body nearly irrelevant, nearly nonexistent. It’s like electricity, burning through your very cells. Every movement seems to make it flare, makes the electric shock jolt through you. The burning pain that follows makes you whimper, a pathetic choking sound squeaking out from your bruised throat.

The pain makes you nauseous, vomit staining the front of your shirt and pants. It’s mostly bile and the little food you’ve gotten since your kidnapping.

Nutrient bars, meant to keep you fed and nourished for a short period of time.

You may never be able to eat them again.

“Fuck.” Graves curses, staring at his phone. “They’ve backed off.” He steps up to you, looking down on your pathetic form. “Looks like your boys do care about you after all.”

Do they? Are they really coming for you, or have they simply given up chasing Shepherd because they lost all their leads. Will they come for you, or will they leave you here to rot? What will Graves do then? Try to take you as his own omega? Kill you out of anger?

Your stomach churns and you can feel the bile rising.

You vomit again, the warm liquid splashing into your lap. You can’t lean far enough anymore, not without the risk of not being able to pull yourself back up, not with the pain burning your every movement. You can’t even lift your head anymore, your body weak and battered and bruised. There’s blood everywhere, on you and on the floor. You can still taste it in your mouth, mixing with the sourness of bile.

Graves gives you a disgusted look before turning to the others in the room. “Duran, Lewis, keep watch. The rest of you come with me.”

He leaves the room for the first time in what you assume is days. For once the cocktail of scents begins to disperse, all but two of the alphas finally disappearing. Where they’re going or what they’re going to do, you don’t know. You can’t bring yourself to care either way. You just want to go home. You want to see your mother again, your brothers and sisters, even your father would be a welcome sight after this. You want your alpha, you want him to hold you, to take you in his arms, keep you safe.

He abandoned you. He left you to suffer like this.

Your breathing picks up as you sit there, chin to chest as you stare at your bloody shirt. The smells in the room are awful, the scents no longer there to block out the sour bile and metallic stench blood. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, pink tinted splatters dripping onto your pants. What are you going to do now? What are they going to do to you now? Will they keep you alive long enough for your pack to arrive then kill you in front of them? Will they torture them too, make them watch as the life slowly leaves your eyes in revenge for chasing after Shepherd?

A sob rips through your sore throat up out of your lips.

You just want to go home.

You just want to be free.

You can be.

Distress. The final defense. The last ditch effort omegas have to save themselves. Distress will lead to your omega taking over, and if nothing else, a quiet death you won’t even realize is happening. Your body will give out and you’ll be safely tucked into the back of your brain, comforted by your instincts. You won’t have to worry anymore. You won’t have to care.

If nothing else, the pain will be over.

I’m sorry.

You begin to breathe heavier, ignoring the pain in your body as you push yourself to hyperventilate. The alphas behind you might do something, might try to stop it. They could, but would they even know how? Would it even work if you got too far? They’re not your alpha. They can’t comfort you, bring you back from the edge without forcing you. Will they even bother?

You tilt your head to the side, putting pressure on your injured scent gland. You sob at the pain, the burning flowing straight into your very cells, making them scream. You push through it, your wrists twisting against the zip ties, digging them further into your already damaged wrists. The pain pushes you to a point of panic, your heart rate through the roof. You can feel it, the tightening of your muscles, your joints locking into place.

You’ve never done it purposefully before, but in this state, it’s not hard.

They left you. They’ve abandoned you. They’ve given up. It’s all your fault they left. They’re not coming for you. You’re not worth it.

The thoughts send you down the spiral, the edges of your vision starting to go dark. You’re floating away, hands and feet going numb as your wheezing, shallow breaths block the oxygen from getting to your brain. You’re sinking, your body floating as you begin to retreat into the back of your mind. The cage is open, your omega soothing you as you drift off, curling up in the back recesses of your mind.

You’re safe now. She whispers.

There’s no going back.

You’re going to get out.

Even if you have to do it yourself.

The last breath you remember taking is shaky, making you cough before your vision begins to fade to grey, then to black. You’re getting out of here no matter what. You’re going to go to sleep. If you fail, you’ll never know it. Your death will be quick and gentle and you’ll never know it happened until you’ve moved on to whatever is next.

You won’t remember any of this. That’s your only consolation.

Your vision fades to black as all memory and awareness leaves you. The last thing you remember is the snap of the zip ties around your wrists as they break.

“Graves has moved with some of his men to the western building. It’s likely the hostage is being held in the eastern building. Gaz and I will go after Graves. Ghost and Soap will try to secure the hostage.”

“Keller is on her way to NAS JRB as we speak. They’re on standby for medevac.”

“Stealth is our priority. They know we’re here, we risk losing the hostage. Quick and quiet, take them by surprise. The faster we do this, the sooner it will all be over.”

**Content Warning: blood and slight gore, someone gets shot offscreen, some gorey and explicit imagery towards the end**

He’s not unfamiliar with high stakes missions. It’s his specialty. He’s cool and calm under stress and pressure, which is why he gets chosen for them. He can detach easily, get the job done and then go home and forget.

So why are his hands shaking?

This isn’t a high stakes mission, not like one he’s used to doing. The stakes are higher, higher than he’s ever had before. It’s not just eliminating some faceless target, it’s not just rescuing some faceless hostage.

It’s rescuing you.

He hates that you were involved in all of this. He hates that they all fell for it, blind to the truth, blind to Shepherd’s traitorous actions. They refused to entertain those conspiratorial thoughts, and now you’re paying for it. He knows why Price made the decision he did, he understands the logic behind it.

He hated it, though.

How far would Graves have taken it if they had chosen to go after you first. Would things have gotten this bad? Or would he still have hurt you, tortured you just out of sheer anger for what happened between the two of you? He wouldn’t give up just because Shepherd told him to stop. He’s ruthless and uncaring of who he hurts and why. He gets his orders and he completes them, no matter what, so long as whoever is giving those orders can pay a high enough price.

How much did he get for this assignment? How much did he settle for once he learned you were involved?

Far too much despite that fact, most likely. Maybe he should become a merc. Less rules and more money.

It’s not a bad idea.

He lasers his focus on the building as they creep through the trees, moving silently. Two against however many are inside. It was impossible to tell with how many were moving between the two buildings constantly.

He brought the whole squad. He planned on putting up a fight regardless.

At least they have the element of surprise on their hands.

“We move silently through the building.” He says as they approach the door. There’s two guards standing outside. “They know we’re inside, things could go downhill quickly.”

“On you, LT.” Johnny says, taking point beside him.

“Drop one, I’ll take the other.” He says, aiming at one of the two Shadows guarding the door.

It’s quick and quiet, their bodies slumping onto the damp dirt. Simon scans the area before moving forward to the door. It’s unlocked, Johnny pushing it open slowly to check for a trip wire.

None.

Sloppy, or perhaps on purpose. They can’t be too careful. Shepherd will have let Graves know they’re not on his trail anymore. He’ll be expecting them.

They split up, combing the bottom floor of the building. He takes out two more Shadows, checking every room for a sign of their target, but they find none.

“Second floor.” He says, waiting at the base of the stairwell for Johnny to join him.

“You think she’s in here?” Johnny asks as they creep up the stairs, careful not to make too much noise.

“Well, we’ll find out.”

It’s far too unguarded to where they’re holding you. Graves will have assumed they’d split up. He must have moved most of his men to the western building to put up as much of a barricade as possible. He can picture Graves standing there, the smirk on his face as he holds a gun to your head. Will he take that risk, shoot you in front of them and give them nothing to live for? Or will he use a knife, letting you die a slow, painful death in front of them?

Or, maybe he moved them to the western building to make them think that’s where you are. Focus their attacks there so they leave you behind. He gets cornered, he send the word to kill you before any of them can get to you.

More red herrings.

He pauses before he reaches the top of the steps, taking out the shadow standing down the hallway. They split up again, looking through rooms at the top of the stairs, making their way down the hallway.

One of the doors is open, and he silently motions for Johnny. He counts down silently in his head before rounding the corner, rifle up as he scans the room. His stomach churns as he looks inside, taking a couple cautious steps forward. He’s seen a lot of things in his time, done a lot of things, but this is different.

“Screaming Jesus.” Johnny says, lowering his rifle as he steps in behind Simon.

There’s blood everywhere.

It’s coating the floors, leaving a sticky residue as it dries. It’s the room you were in. He recognizes it from the video, and the bright light in the corner is a dead giveaway. The chair in the middle of the room has been broken, the wood of the arms snapped off and splintered. There’s four bloody zip ties on the floor, along with several instruments on the floor including the ice pick.

He wants to shove that into Graves’ eye for what he did to you.

There’s two bodies on the floor, one of them dead in a pool of his own blood, the other choking as blood seeps onto the floor under him. He steps up to the shadow, putting his boot on his chest and pushing. The Shadow lets out a groan, coughing up blood.

“Where the fuck is she?” He growls, staring down at the quickly paling face.

“Fucking bitch went crazy.” He chokes out. “Went running.”

Simon steps back, pulling out his handgun and firing two bullets into the Shadow’s head.

“Price, we found the room.” He says into his comm. “The hostage isn’t here. A half-dead Shadow said she bolted.”

“LT.” Johnny says, motioning to the door, the only other exit from the room. There’s a bloody handprint on the door, one too small to be one of the Shadows’.

“I think she managed to get out.” He says, staring at the handprint. His stomach drops, his hand tightening around his rifle. He glances down at the bodies, throats cut and faces bloody. “I think her omega took over.”

“You and Soap go after her. She’ll do the one thing she knows to do, the one instinctual thing she can do if she has nothing to fight.” Price says. “We’ve got Graves cornered.”

Simon pushes the door open, cool air flowing into the stuffy room. There’s bloody shoe prints heading down the stairs. He can see the rapid turn on the concrete below before they head off towards the trees.

“I’ve got a trail.” He says.

“Go.” Price says. “Simon...you know what you have to do.”

He does.

He motions for Johnny to follow before hurrying down the stairs. The longer they delay, the further you’ll get. He doesn’t doubt some Shadows followed you if you made that much of a ruckus. The more time they waste, the more dangerous things get, and not just because they might lose you or the shadows might catch up.

He races towards the treeline, rifle in hand, but there’s no one else standing guard. Price and Gaz will have taken care of those in the other building, and those that were outside probably went after you.

He slows once they break the treeline, trying to catch any hint of your scent that might be left. His only hope is that you’ve left a trail. He’s a tracker, he knows what he’s doing. His senses are stronger, more in tune. He can find you. He can track you down. He has to.

The guilt is eating him alive. If something happens to you, he’ll never forgive himself. He’s right here, so close and yet so far. You’re running on borrowed time and there’s only so much of it left. Eventually you have to slow, eventually your body will start giving up. Will it be too late then? If a Shadow finds you when you can’t fight back...

“Dead Shadow ahead.” Johnny says, motioning to the slumped over body ahead of them. “We’re on the trail.”

“Let’s hope she left more markers on the way.” He says, kicking the Shadow, but the stab wound in his neck is all Simon needs to know. “Keep going straight.” He says, continuing on the path they’ve been following. He needs just a whiff, a hint of your scent. Something.

They come across another dead Shadow, this one off to the side of the path they had been following. He turns, making an adjustment before moving forward. Johnny keeps close, both of them watching for more Shadows, or for any glimpse of you. All they can hope is they’re on the right path.

He nearly sets off in a run as he hears a sound ahead. It’s a yowl, almost like a mountain lion. It sends a tingle down his back, his alpha blaring warning alarms. A threatened omega is a dangerous thing. Fierce and protective of themselves, capable of great feats and lethal if you get too close.

It’s you, no doubt.

Price had been right.

He has no choice.

He pushes forward, his steps quick as he makes his way through the bushes. He spots you near a boulder, trying to fight off a Shadow. He’s got the upper hand, using his size against you. You’re getting tired, your movements slowing. Simon aims with his rifle, a shot to the head dropping the Shadow. You drop into a crouch, surveying the trees. You’re covered in blood, a knife in your hand as your wild eyes search for them.

“Distract her.” He says to Johnny. “Make yourself as unthreatening as possible. I’ll go around and get her from behind.”

He doesn’t even wait for an acknowledgement before he’s moving, slipping around to the side of the boulder. Johnny steps into the clearing slowly, holding his hands up, talking to you quietly.

“Easy, kitten. Ye know who I am.” Johnny is careful not to get too close, his steps slow as he moves to the side, getting you to turn. “We’re just here to help ye. Get ye home and safe.”

You’re holding the knife up, brandishing it at Johnny. Simon isn’t sure if you’ve ever thrown a knife before, but he doesn’t put it past you to try in this state.

He hopes Johnny’s reflexes are fast enough.

He slips out from behind the boulder as you pause, wasting no time as he races up behind you and grabbing you before you can bolt or go for Johnny’s neck. You let out another yowl, struggling against him as he wraps an arm around your chest. Your teeth sink into his arm and he lets out a curse, but he doesn’t let go. He lets go, they won’t get another chance. It’ll be too late.

He doesn't want to do it. His mind flashes back to his father and mother, one of the few times his mother fought back. It hadn’t lasted long before her body went limp, practically a ragdoll in his father’s hold. Simon had grabbed Tommy and ran, barricading them in his room. They didn’t want to see what was going to happen next.

He doesn’t want that kind of control over you, he doesn’t want to put you through that trauma. The disorientation, the fear, the confusion. That must have been what it felt like after being sedated during your heat. You had been sick for days, crying in Johnny’s room. He had heard every sob, every attempt to soothe you.

He put you through that. He made you face that down despite the fear on your face as Johnny escorted you to the med center.

And now he has to do it again.

He has to this time. He has no choice. His only other option is to let you die. Price will never forgive him. Johnny won’t even look at him again. He’d betray them worse than you did, worse than Shepherd, worse than Graves.

You never really betrayed them in the first place, though.

You were afraid, untrusting of them, unsure because of your past. He had been foolish to blame you, foolish to think it was somehow your fault. You acted out of fear, out of terror. How you must have felt in those moments when that beta showed up, when you faced down Shepherd alone, when you returned to find your space invaded and those cameras all over your room. They weren’t there to protect you, they weren’t there to support you. They left you alone and you hid it from them because you didn’t know any better, because you were so afraid.

He’s a goddamn fucking prick he’s been.

Tears blur his vision as he tucks his free arm behind you, shifting your position just enough so he can get his hand around the back of your neck. You kick out with your legs, releasing his arm, your head tilting back in a last ditch, instinctual effort to protect yourself.

His eyes squeeze closed as you let out a yelp, his fingers digging into the back of your neck. It’s hard enough it will leave a bruise, but he has to be sure. It’s the only thing that might save you. It’s his only option, his only chance to keep you alive.

“There you go.” He says quietly into your ear. “Need you to relax for me.”

Your body goes limp in his hold, head resting back against his hand as he holds you there. Your muscles twitch as the tension leaves you, eyelids fluttering before they close. His arm stings where your teeth had sunk into his skin, hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn’t care.

“Keep resting.” He says, easing his hand from the back of your neck as he shifts you in his arms. “Gonna get you somewhere safe.”

You’re like a ragdoll in his arms as he lifts you up, cradling you against his chest. You’re warm, hair sticking to your forehead.

“Call it in.” He tells Johnny, his eyes still glued to your face. “We need that medevac now.”

“Price, we got her.” Johnny says into his comm. “We need medevac stat.”

You look so peaceful despite the blood soaking your body. Partially yours, partially the Shadows you killed in your escape. You look like a gruesome painting, a gorey depiction of an omega pushed too far. Something they’d put on display in a museum, a photo that would win prizes in celebration of such a natural state caught on camera. It would be circulated for decades, something talked about centuries from now.

A raw view of humanity’s inner beasts.

He can’t stand it, seeing you like this. They did this to you. They are the reason you’re like this. They made the bad call in the end, they put you through this. You won’t forgive them, not after everything. You went weeks without them, without a word and then this happened. Innocence tainted in the blood of the guilty. The bloodstained omega held in the arms of the blood-tainted alpha. He should be the one covered in their blood. He should be the one carrying the weight of torture and desperation on his shoulders.

The guardian dog covered in blood in the name of protecting his innocent sheep.

How he’s failed you. How they all failed you.

He pushes past the pain, past the grief, past the guilt and the horror of what they did to you, what they put you through.

They’ve got you back. You’re safe.

It’s over.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Ghost x reader #Kyle Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #John mactavish x reader #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse

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acid-ixx · 4 months ago

Note

How do think readers relationship with each of the batfam would be had they not been neglected?

what if...? ft. domestic headcanons w/ your family

series masterlist &. request masterlist — long post ahead !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 6400+ words, no beta i'm genuinely insane. help i literally thought abt this yesterday !! i may or may not post a drabble about this one specific dream the reader had about where they had a normal relationship with the batfam but at the same time i want to implement it in the next chapter instead so have food for thoughts instead! slight spoilers below. also please do comment and reblog if u like this ! ^^ supporting my writing just makes me further motivated to write even more !

if you were never neglected by your own family, then i could say that the process of them turning yandere would be a tad bit better or worse. i'm saying, because of your past and because of an incident during your elementary years (that could've been avoided if your family actually never ignored you; so let's assume that that incident actually never happened but it opened a gateway for an even more protective family) the batfam could easily be either a dream or nightmare.

let's say it was bruce and dick who had picked you up from the police station. the moment he sees his own firstborn child, all his thoughts would circulate from just how broken and hopeless you absolutely looked, how the injuries litter throughout your entire body, the way your empty eyes stare at anything.

the child, his child, looked exactly like him all those years ago. he knows just how painful it is to bare losing all your loved ones.

he wouldn't hesitate to approach your form, immediately picking you up and letting your head lean on his shoulders as dick follows in tow, cooing about his significantly younger sibling.

that would be the first time dick would call you his baby bird, with the way you'd stare at him with mixed emotions in your eyes.

if him and dick were to hear about what happened to you inside your old apartment from the police (drugged and abused by the same men who took your mother away from you), then be guaranteed that batman and nightwing would be more brutal during their patrol afterwards (dick would even take more weeks off from bludhaven just to care for his younger sibling), even going as far as formulating a plan for your captors, having oracle stalk each and every person involved in your life.

if anyone thinks the vigilante would abide by his no-kill rule then they're wrong, because he'd turn a blind eye for once if dick were to brutally stab someone at any moment. why? because batman will not settle until his own child's attackers are thrown into putrid prison cells with no guarantee that they'll see the light of the day. the criminals should be grateful that red hood isn't even in the picture yet.

your father would be more perceptive of your emotions if he had never neglected you. he will always be the one giving you rides, he'll shield you away from the mass media trying to take photographs of you— and you're getting carried throughout the manor if your little body were to even express fatigue.

bruce wayne wouldn't admit it, but he absolutely cherishes you and your youth. he had adopted dick and grayson when they were above the age of ten, when they were already growing some sort of consciousness about the world they live in. but you? you're so small and you have so much to learn, your innocence is something bruce would protect. you'll be absolutely coddled by your father, your grandfather figure, alfred, and your oldest brother, dick. even future members of the family knows just how important you are maintaining their sanity.

that means you have the manor in the palm of your hands. you had a nightmare tonight? don't worry, your dad would always be one step ahead of you and would immediately be in your room. hell, if you were comfortable enough, you'd be sleeping in the same bedroom as your dad for the first few years you'll live inside the manor. he'll read you bedtime stories if you want and even have alfred prepare you warm milk or chocolate before you go to sleep. his entire schedule would also be centered around you, making sure that he would always arrive on time from business meetings to have dinner with you, and coming home early from patrols. if he leaves the manor before you're set off to sleep, then he'll be giving you a good night's kiss whilst alfred would be the one substituting for your nightly bedtime stories.

you may call him overbearing once you start to notice the signs the more you grow older, but your father will always track your sleep schedule - he even makes you wear a watch that records your heart rate - from the moment you drift into dreamland to the times you get nightmares— he makes sure the food you eat before dinner is light, booking appointments with nutritionists to make sure you're healthy. he even does specialized training with you, for self defence and to also maintain a healthy lifestyle.

and dick grayson? his visits to gotham would be more frequent. even if his relationship with bruce is strained, he'll always be in the manor faster than you could say 'i miss you' to your older brother on the phone. he loves coddling his baby bird, especially since you were adopted right after jason's death; dick doesn't want a repeat of the past, always making sure you get proper cuddles and affirmations.

spending time with dick means you get all the power to draw on his arms or face or make arts and crafts with him. he enjoys it when his baby bird is at their comfiest state so even if you were seated on the floor, there would always be cozy blankets that count as your chairs and snacks right beside you. you could ask him to get something for you and he's right at it.

he would be the older brother who normalizes physical affection in the household. dick would constantly kiss your cheeks, your foreheads, and any injuries you would obtain (a habit that even bruce adopted once your dad realized how it's an effective way to soften your cries and ease your heart). he's not afraid of picking you up even! always tossing you to the air under alfred or bruce's supervision whenever you feel down. dick would always hold your hand, too, as an assurance that your beloved older brother is always there for you.

you'd probably ignore all the red flags he carries around because of how early he shows off his signs of obsessiveness. so don't question it if him and bruce wouldn't allow you to go to sleepovers with your other friends or if sometimes, just sometimes dick feels the need to just have you in his arms for hours without end after particularly brutal patrols. you're the only person holding him up and if he doesn't breath in that reminder then he might just lose himself.

your brother would literally prioritize you over anything else. he can and will pick you up from school, he makes sure nobody in your class is there to bully you, he'll spoil you with sweet treats whenever bruce is too busy with business meetings. he wants to be seen as your favorite ever since he's discovered himself to be your idol, so he'll always show off his acrobatic skills for your eyes only.

whenever dick would say "i love you!" it always translates to, "if you want me to, then i will give you the world." which means he'll drop anything he's doing right now the moment you invite him over to design your diaries or sketchbooks.

your talents very early on would be heavily acknowledged by your family. that means any single drawing or craft you'd do, whether poorly done or not, would be stored in very protective places or shows off in every crevice of the manor. any father's day gift from you would be framed in bruce's personal office, a personal reminder to him that you are the light at the end of the brooding tunnel he puts himself in. so even if he can't always be there for you, he will always have you in his mind and in his heart.

your existence in the manor would prove to be a healthier way for bruce to cope, for him to get his mind off of the loss of his second child. whenever he looks at you, he'll always be filled with a determination to protect gotham from any further danger, to save the city - if not himself, then for your sake, for his baby to feel safe whenever they would walk on the streets, for his baby to feel protected whenever you two would eat in fancy restaurants or go shopping for your diary's supplies.

criminals would immediately get the message that messing with you means getting on the bad side of both batman and nightwing. you may be the child of bruce wayne, (name) wayne, but if they even think of kidnapping you for ransom then they should pray; pray because if batman's baby even gets a single nick, a single droplet of blood on their body then they're gone. there's no such thing as holding back if it comes to you.

now, your older sister figure, barbara gordon, despite her constantly being busy because of her role as the oracle, would find ways to at least entertain you whenever you would visit her in the batcave. if you feel like your father's overprotective nature and your older brother's coddling is too much, then she will be offer you solace by her side. she may not always be physically there but you two are as close as you are to the other members of your family because you're a creative one. it's not often barbara gets to spend time with someone like you who enjoys having her as a muse for your art pieces. she allows you to also style her hair, and if you like to design clothing, then she'd be your model for as much as you want.

barbara is also your go-to for when dick and bruce are both unavailable. she lets you watch her hack through multiple security systems, explaining concepts that you don't understand. and, because she's the most emotionally stable out of all of them, you'd prefer gossiping to her about your school's drama compared to dick, as she actually gives you helpful advice!

well, little do you know that she had already hacked your school's camera footage and wired multiple recorders on your bag but you don't have to know that! after all, barbara wants to keep the only sane person in the household safe and happy. she's not openly obsessive towards you, but whatever secrets you have that don't compromise your safety are secrets she promises she will bring to the grave. that means if you ever have a crush on a someone then she will hide it from the others.

... that is until you actually end up trying to get into a relationship too early for even her eyes then she won't hesitate sending out the signals to bruce and the others. she can't afford exposing her younger sibling to heartbreaks and emotional attachment towards strangers! so do forgive her if there are times where you feel like there's someone constantly watching your back, because she is that someone; with all the intentions in the world that you wouldn't have to go through what she did with the joker or any other villains who could whisk you away from their arms.

it's obvious that, of course the oracle will use all the power in her hands to guarantee all eyes are on you, so that there would never be an opening for any danger towards you. even if you do know that she's the one in-control of the strings, there's not much you could do but accept it.

then there's tim drake. your brother who had stalked batman and nightwing just to prove a point. his parents are alive and he's fine being on his own, but fuck it if he prefers being in the wayne manor! once you're introduced to tim, he's immediately researching about the first biological child of bruce wayne. and thank god bruce requires the two of you to become familiar with each other because you're just so interesting to him, you and your curious eyes, your small habits— the way you shift in your position as your father's hands are clasped on your shoulder protectively.

tim can already feel himself blast off in excitement just solving the mysteries about you! yet he doesn't know it in himself that the longer you spend time with him, the more the urge to just stitch himself into your very life grows stronger.

if you were never neglected by your own family then you would instead be analyzed constantly. tim is just another set of eyes constantly watching you, but unlike the others, he picks off every single detail about you to a T.

you, your interests, your hobbies, your favorites, your friends, you name it; he will have an entire collection of case files on everything, picking apart your very mind to the seams. it's like he's eating up the information about you, spending sleepless nights researching about a movie you two would watch soon, because the look of amazement in your eyes feeds the growing love he has for his sibling.

at first he'd never understand why bruce and dick seems so smitten towards you other than the case regarding your mother. but he slowly starts to understand why— because just like him, you're perceptive of his well-being. if dick isn't around then you're always the one hanging around his room, visiting him with snacks in your arms or an invitation to watch a cartoon show.

he likes doing your assignments for you, especially your projects even if he neglects his own duties for his own school. and despite how emotionally constipated or unaware he seems, he's obsessed with your personal life. that means you don't even have to rant to him about school drama or your friends or crush because he can and will know it. what he doesn't like, though, is when your attention is towards anything but him. he may not be the most physically comfortable to cuddle but he will offer you his jackets which he would end up not washing right after you use them, instead he wears them, feeling closer to you than ever.

it even lulls him to sleep for the times you're unable to sleep over at his room.

tim may not know how to comfort you like dick whenever you wake up from nightmares but he does know ways to avoid them; he knows a lot of strategic methods to get you drowsy after a moment's panic.

bonus points if you cuddle him afterwards! he loves the warmth that you emanate, loves it when your body leans against him and makes him feel so important. tim loves it when you snuggle him unknowingly, tightening your already bruising grip on him, he loves reciprocating it too, feeling a special bond with his sibling that not even his parents could offer.

though he doesn't openly tell you that he loves you, he does so in his own ways! you don't want to see an entire photography room dedicated to his younger sibling— most pictures contributed by tim. you don't want to see the terabytes of files that are all about you and your interests, millions of video imagery of just you sketching or writing diary entries, sometimes eating or rambling senselessly. you don't know it but tim loves playing the videos of you in the background, especially the ones where you're humming a tune or singing a lullaby; those are his favorites.

it's not his fault that you're just so interesting to him, that your presence is so comforting, that you're the only person closest to him that has the ability to make him melt into you, unknowingly succumbing to your spoiled wishes.

jason todd comes into the picture later, and he is a very enraged man. he's mad at his replacement, at bruce, at you, at the entire universe.

at first he just doesn't understand anything. he doesn't understand why bruce finds it so easy to not only replace his status as robin but to also bring in another child, who's valued and loved more despite not taking the mantle of robin. he's mad at just how quick he was replaced, how it seems like bruce never avenged him, and yet if he threatens your safety then the old man suddenly turns violent towards him?!

jason wouldn't bring you into the fray, because you're unaware of the entire situation, but fuck, he doesn't understand why you are just so cherished when he'd watch the news and sees your picture plastered all over the reporters' walls, talking about the child who bruce never allowed to separate from his side. they talk about how you're the sheltered one, the hearthrob of all media with just how clingy the billionaire is towards his supposed younger sibling.

he's not jealous, he gets why bruce is protective and smothers himself all over you; but he hates feeling replaced, feeling discarded and forgotten by the very man who'll avenge your death if that ever happened.

hence why he has to see it for himself, has to see you for himself. it's a coincidence, a miracle actually that he just seems to easily find you by the kitchen of the manor— a manor whose aura is now different from last time, it seems like it now reeks of life, of personality. clearly you were the main cause of all of this.

you could simply be reading a book and sipping your nightly tea, but jason would soon realize just how... vulnerable you are at the moment. you find him hiding in the shadows and all you offer is a wide stare with no sense of self defense whatsoever. it's the same vulnerability that he sees off the cruelest streets of gotham. you're exactly like the innocent kids who get brutally murdered without justice, just like the children who have never once gained penance for the torture they had to experience just living off of personality.

jason isn't a dumbass, living near the crime alley means hearing the gossips of every citizen. your name, or preferably your last name is famed even in the underground. your mother is infamous for catching the attention of most crime lords by running off with their cash, successful staying hidden to care for her child, just right until she met her untimely demise. you lost her early just like how he lost his mother early as she had fallen victim to drug overdose.

he'll discover why gotham's vigilante seems to be so protective over you. the way you carry yourself, the warmth you give off as you offer him your leftover dinner despite not

you told him that your dad taught you to never talk to strangers— but clearly he's not because "how else would you be able to trespass the millions of security alarms in the manor? you must've lived here before." you'll state as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, sipping your drink before you offer him a seat next to yours, unafraid of the dangers that lie ahead of you—

"you must've really been pampered by the old man, huh?" is all his reply, the voice changer of his makes him sound naturally intimidating, like he's ready to attack but no, that's not his intentions with you. he'll take a seat beside you, try to make out what book you're reading and that's when he knows that you truly have no idea that it's your dead brother who's talking to you. you have no idea of his resurrection whatsoever as you start to mumble off about the novel— he finds it quite amusing that, finally, he's not the only guy who enjoys literature in the family, even going as far as to recommend his own fair share of favorite novels to you.

once he leaves out of the window after a seemingly long session of talking, definitely aware that yes, bruce does have a microchip inserted under your skin, and the watch you're wearing has a voice recorder that sends recordings straight to the batcave's system; jason takes note to visit you more often, finding the normalcy you offer very welcoming.

he likes it, likes your mellow behavior. he'll even admit that you're the only proof that bruce can, in fact, raise a child right, even if that means tracking their entire life. but that's the old man's love language, and jason knows it in himself that he's already planning for a way to take you to ride his motorcycle at night without bruce's knowledge; just so his angel knows the feeling of gotham's breeze flowing through their hair since bruce seems to love dictating your every move.

once he does form a solid plan to take you away, even just temporarily, you don't have to worry about the criminals who litter the streets because jason made sure that nobody's gonna mess with him and his angel's bonding time together.

the youngest, damian wayne, and the second biological child of bruce is a special case. his upbringing as an assassin makes him susceptible to his fits of tantrums. the first time he steps foot into the manor is the same time he will threaten anyone around him; and that includes you, the bastard child. quite frankly, your first greeting with him would be the same as the one in the original storyline, you'll greet him with a tray of sweets in your hand and a small smile and he'll reply with a sword on your neck. but the difference would be the undeniable fact that dick and bruce immediately stopped him from even nicking your delicate skin.

dick's swearing was shut down by alfred's scolding and you, again! pulling on your oldest brother's sleeve with an assurance that you're okay.

that's the very first time he sees his father truly reprimand him with nothing but rage in his eyes. despite damian's annoying antics towards his father the entire day, it seems like you were the snapping point.

his father, bruce wayne, made it very clear that he can mess with anyone and everyone in the family but you. that you have nothing to

his only reply would be a sneer as he demands they take him to his room immediately, unable to shut you down when you offer to help bring his luggage despite bruce's firm unwillingness and dick's hesitant request that his baby bird should instead spend time in his room instead.

but it was always your word above everybody else's and damian hates that, hates that everyone just seems to succumb to your request as long as it doesn't compromise your safety. the bitterness that keeps resurfacing in his heart whenever he sees you wearing tim or dick's jacket, or if he caught sight of bruce giving you affection was a feeling he tried to convince himself wasn't jealousy.

not jealousy towards you, no, but towards them. your behavior towards him was nothing but kind, a kindness that was taught to him as weakness. he thinks you're weak and undeserving of being spoiled and yet he hates it whenever he sees his blood sibling (whom he called a bastard child so many times) become too close with anyone but him.

he hates it, he hates you and his conflicting feelings. he hates it when he pushes you away, hates it when he sees you pout after another failed attempt at trying to have your youngest sibling talk to you.

and as the days or even weeks pass by, with all your effort to try to bond with him, with the days where he can feel dick's energy drain because you insisted on spending time with damian instead of dick again, with tim's intolerable treatment towards the him because you chose to bother damian instead of that loser— are the days he feels himself actually becoming closer to you because he relishes in your insufferable behavior towards them, because you just seem so sweet to him.

damian feels that it's right that you make him the exception.

so it's inevitable that damian will eventually discover both your talents towards art and the love for nature. it's a mistake, really, when one day as he stalks through the hallways he'd find you in your own atelier, painting a portrait of a robin with a color scheme that matches his vigilante suit. the beams of sunlight seems to hit you just right because you looked so at peace with your surroundings, humming a tune, unaware of your youngest brother who has found himself at your most natural state.

he'll budge in without moment's hesitation afterwards, steering clear behind you as he analyzes your art. it would only be after a few minutes would he announce his presence in the room, expecting you to scream at him to buzz off but all you did was jump in your seat, looking back to eye the intruder only to find out it was damian all along, offering him a smile and a seat beside you.

after he does so, you'll both end up spending the entire day bombarding each other with art tips and animal facts. he'll give you comments about the bird's proportions and you give him guidelines on how to properly mix your colors without it looking muddled. it's like you two are meant to be siblings because damian swears he ended up clinging to your side after your painting session, refusing to even seat beside anyone during dinner time if it isn't you because he's not done rambling about the rainbow eucalyptus you had told him you'd seen in a nature documentary once— so it's rightfully his place to be beside you and not drake's or grayson's or even his father.

eventually you two would be as close as peas in a pod because you're seemingly the only one who knows how to calm him down, the only one with the right to raise your voice at him and to ask him of favors because you're his blood sibling. and because you both share the same blood, that means you both should share clothes that complement each other, share snacks and treats, share matching bracelets and necklaces and any jewelry, you're the only one allowed to hang around his room and him in yours.

the others find it annoying that you let him be, but what choice do they have? unless they would like to hear an earful from damian then they should stay silent because you both aren't done painting each other's nails yet!

stephanie brown is shortly introduced to you after her incessant insistence on meeting you right after stepping foot into the manor. she knows of your internet fame for being the beloved bruce wayne's 'favorite' child and she's not afraid to admit that you are indeed adorable in person! unlike your first meeting with damian, steph would immediately coddle you at first glance, insisting you call her by 'steph' and that

due to the short period of time as her robin and her being constantly reprimanded for her antics, you'd take it in yourself to become closer with her, and she accepts your offer without any complaints. she's also one of your muses for your art and it's a good thing she has a sense of style unlike your brothers who are either too flashy (you had to stifle a laughter looking at the discowing costume) or too dull. damian's fashion sense is good but he's often out during the time period you spend with steph, and even if she often doesn't stay still, you at least hsve someone to talk your ears off whilst you try to sketch the poses she chose.

her obsession towards you stems from your willingness to "match her freak" or whatever internet lingo she finds that day, but she's a fun company to be around! she's always there for you when you need to rant about anything regarding your feelings, especially since you're at the age where you're a teenager and your emotions towards your family would be all over the place and she'd relate the most towards that.

so other than barbara, you'll find yourself speaking up about any concerns you have to steph, and she turns your 'favoritism' towards her her entire personality.

but if you think of even spilling your secrets about a highschool crush to steph or news that someone had asked you out for prom them then spoiler alert! don't. like her mentor, steph will drop signs and clues and your brothers would promptly deal with that. awe, don't worry about feeling alone though or if you weren't permitted to go to your highschool prom because steph and babs will be the ones to convince bruce to throw you your own very elegant gala where you would dance with only your siblings!

see, isn't she so strategic that way? psht, you don't need a boy or a girl acting as your temporary reprieve when your entire family is there for you! steph is here for you and you did technically promise to go out with her today to go shopping so...

it's not that she isn't on your side, no! but you're very much the entire family's baby and she doesn't want you losing your attention on her, definitely not! her goofy personality towards you really does cover her intense urge to be by your side really well. unlike damian, it's not obvious that she's trying so hard to monopolize your time for herself but you're just so fun to be around and she's at her best behavior when it comes to you.

so what's wrong if she ditches her other friends to bond with her beloved sibling? it's not like they'd understand what it's like having someone who actually looks at her for her rather than just the surface level.

don't question why most of the gifts she had given you (which ranges from attires like jackets and shles, to matching bracelets, even little fidget toys) all don a shade of purple and blue! and don't also question why her gallery is filled with cute selfies of you and why your phone's lock screen wallpaper is now suddenly matching with hers.

after all, steph likes making it known that you are her favorite!

cassandra cain, when she first saw you, is, of course, silent. but she makes her presence known quickly after she has enough proof that you've no fight in your body. she may not be the most expressive in words but she is through actions.

you were actually the one who had first approached her after bruce initially introduced you two to each other, offering her a handshake and a greeting in sign language. albeit it being crusty, and her insisting that it's alright if you do the talking, it seems like you were more than willing to learn sign language just for the sake of your new sister and she likes it.

she really, really likes it, appreciates how there were no signs of malice in your movements and just how comfortable you seemed with someone who could potentially end your life with just a snap of her fingers. and yet you treat her like she's not a weapon of murder but rather another sibling who is welcomed into your own world.

you ask her if she wants to hang out with you and steph in your own personal sleepover inside your room and she accepts it because of just how comforting your presence is. it's been so long since she had last felt like she was treated as a human and you were proof that she's glad she never took the path to human carnage like her father intended her to because then she wouldn't meet someone who would soon be so precious to her.

cass may not talk a lot but she is a listener.

a listener to both your words and your body language. it's quicker for her to notice if you ever needed a hug or a catalyst for comfort. she knows your boundaries and when you need space the most. she knows it when you want to open up to her about how stuffy the manor is beginning to feel, how it feels as if they're becoming more sensitive about your social life, how you wish your friends aren't distancing themselves from you because of how intimidating your family is.

and you can say all that to her because cass, alongside duke and sometimes steph, would be the only ones keeping your deepest darkest desires to their grave. although she may not understand your reasonings on why you even felt like your family is coddling you too much (because they're not! they love you very much and she does too) in the first place, she's always the one offering you to hold her hands whenever you're going through a momentary panic attack or a shoulder to lean on whenever dick would scold you for something impulsive you've done.

unlike your neglected counterpart, cass would always be by your shadows, watching every one of your moves and to abide by bruce's order to make sure you wouldn't escape, shall you ever feel rebellious during your teenage years. you may be older than her but she's stronger than you, more experienced and can even combat your dad if she wants to.

yet she always seems to let her guard down when it comes to you because you just seem to have that alluring effect on everybody. can't you understand just how important you are to everybody? you're the most important to her, you're one of the first few people who had treated her like a human so she swears on her life to protect you from harm's way like you did her whenever she's often in a pit of despair.

cass isn't the most expressive, so she makes up for it by instead leaving signs that she really cares for you, or sometimes hiding little trinkets for you to find in your room. it's like her very own message that translates 'cass was here'.

whenever you sit beside her at the dinner table, she always slips in extra food by your plate without you looking or sometimes even filling your glass bottles with extra juice and you'll never know why until you realize that it's her way of telling you to eat more. sometimes, your clothes would go missing until you see your sisters wearing your own collection of jackets and hoodies then swapping them in your drawers for their own— you'd realize that cass got that idea from steph and you can't get mad at her or anybody else as it soon becomes tradition that you'll have an entire closet dedicating to the missing clothes you have that your siblings have replaced to their own attire.

cass really does love you and although she can't always say it out loud, you'll always have a constant reminder instead. as long as you're safe and sound then you don't have to witness the darker sides of her that she hides from you.

then finally, duke thomas. he may have been introduced to you the latest but you could say in terms of every trait, he'd be the brother you'd like to keep close for every situation. your first meeting with him is quite frankly the most normal one of them all, introducing yourself to duke through dinner. although he may be temporarily under bruce's guardianship over anything else, he's incredibly comforting to be around as he's quick to catch on your emotions but unlike the others, he doesn't push you to open up to him, but he won't leave your side at all either.

duke is the only metahuman you're probably allowed to be close with because your dad absolutely refuses you from even trying to talk with the superfamily. and duke heavily prides himself with that information, often secretly showing you his metahuman skills and answering whatever questions you have about them.

like jason, duke wouldn't fully delude himself into thinking you're innocent, that you need to be babied to the point they feel the urge to track even the food you eat— so he's your reliable source for any video games you were forbidden to play or any movies dick would consider too gruesome for you. he's chill, he even sneaks you unhealthy chips once in a while which makes him automatically one of the top in your tier list.

but don't think he's entirely on your side, because whilst duke seems the most normal to you - the only sibling who wouldn't smother you in blankets the moment you accidentally cut yourself with a kitchen knife - he's also batshit crazy for his own sibling and he'll sacrifice a lot for you two. so if you even dare try to suggest an idea that duke knows would risk not only him, but especially you, then that idea automatically is relayed to your dad and you wouldn't really want your father's gentle scolding anymore.

you can try to find a loophole to go out with him though! if you want to eat batburgers outside then you can do so when he's at his patrol, seeing as how he's the only batkid who does daytime patrol and that's way safer than eating at night, no?

so do expect spending more time with him the most outside, other than with dick and damian, but you'll be forced to sit in the sidelines where nobody can lay their hands on you whilst duke would be busy fighting crime and afterwards treating you to ice cream like he didn't just 'accidentally' and brutally body slammed a criminal into the wall for giving you heart eyes.

'most normal member of the family, my ass' would be the first thing that pops into your mind, but hey! at least you didn't have to be always locked up into the stuffy manor, right...?

at least you get to spend time with all of your siblings and a very loving and attentive father..!

little did you know that the only reason they allowed you out is to give you this false sense of independence, slowly but surely planning for the ultimate day where they truly would lock you up away from the world.

but they just can't help it, you know? the media's greedy hands are starting to take more than they could; so many eyes are on you and danger awaits at every corner in gotham— they can't afford having their beloved being pried away from their arms.

so is it truly a blessing or a curse in disguise? you don't know anymore.

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punkshort · 6 months ago

Text

i know who you are | 9. the end

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel leaves overnight for a scouting mission. When he returns, you finally confess your feelings for him.

Chapter Warnings: language, amnesia, slow burn, dry humping, some dead bodies 'n stuff, fluff, feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), piv unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), soft!joel, guns?

WC: 9.1K

Series Masterlist

A/N: Two things. One: I don't have the slightest clue how memory loss works and if what I am about to detail in this chapter is even plausible but if television has taught me anything, nothing is impossible only extremely rare. Two: this is the final chapter and it makes me very sad. I wish I could have thought of more storylines to drag this out but at the end of the day, I feel good about how it all came together and I can't thank quite literally hundreds of you enough for reading this each week. It's kind of insane. So, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Also, if anyone wants to toss some one-shot/sequel ideas my way, I am all ears. Much love.

Two Weeks Later

"Joel," you whispered, your head tilted back into the couch cushion while his mouth greedily nipped and sucked at your neck. His hips were grinding lightly against your center and you knew if you didn't stop soon, you would be in trouble. "I think we should slow down."

"Mhmm," he mumbled in agreement, reluctantly pulling his hand from underneath your shirt.

"You're lucky it's still cold enough for me to wear a scarf," you murmured into his hair. He sighed against your neck, finally dragging his mouth away and sat up on the couch while yet another movie went unwatched on the TV.

"Can't seem to get enough of you," he said with a grin, his arm stretching over the back of the sofa. You rolled your eyes dramatically but smiled, pushing yourself up and fixing your shirt before looking at the TV. "Brad Pitt's in this?"

Joel tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Think he's the main character," he told you, and you scowled at him but he could tell you weren't actually angry.

"Well maybe if you didn't distract me every time we try to watch a damn movie, I would know that."

The past two weeks had been downright perfect. Joel couldn't be any happier. Now that things had changed between you, he craved your touch constantly. Part of him wondered if it was his way of trying to make up for lost time because you weren't wrong: he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had no desire to leave the house or see anybody. All he wanted was to stay holed up with you doing absolutely everything and nothing. He shuddered to think how crazy he would become when you were finally ready to take things further. Tommy will have to drag him by the collar from your bed for his patrol shifts.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him, leaning into his side and tucking your legs underneath you, only half listening to the movie.

"Patrol," he answered while the tips of his ears burned red from embarrassment, like you caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. He was perfectly fine waiting as long as it took until you were ready, but it didn't stop him from fantasizing about it. And the fact that he already knew what you felt like, what you sounded like, what made you come undone, worked him up even more.

"How are you feeling about getting back out there?" you asked, tipping your head up to look at him. He didn't seem worried but it was hard to tell sometimes.

"Actually, there was somethin' I wanted to talk to you 'bout," he admitted. "And if you don't want me to do it, I won't. I put you through enough shit as it is-"

"Spit it out, Miller," you said, shifting out from under his arm.

"Now that the snow's melted, I wanna take a couple guys and scout the area for any trace of those raiders," he began, watching your face closely. "I won't go far, but..."

"But?" you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"But I would be gone overnight. Just one night," he assured you quickly when he saw your face.

"Wouldn't the others have already noticed anything out of the ordinary on patrol?" you asked as anxiety began to squeeze your throat. "I don't understand why you need to go out there."

"'Cause I only trust myself to make sure we're safe," he explained. "If somethin' happened to anyone 'cause I led these assholes to our doorstep, I'd never forgive myself. D'you understand?"

You chewed on your lip and glanced down at your lap as you weighed your options. On one hand, you understood where he was coming from. And if no one else on patrol or guard had yet to see or find anything strange, then Joel would most likely not find anything, either. But on the other hand, just simply leaving Jackson was a risk. And even if Joel didn't find any other raiders, he wouldn't mean he would be safe from whoever or whatever else was out there.

Joel pinched your chin and gently tugged your lip from between your teeth, making you snap out of it.

"Can I go with you?"

Joel's face softened. "No, baby. You don't even remember how to shoot a gun. I can't risk it."

Of course, he was right. "Who would you take?"

He smiled and dropped his hand. "Tommy. Neil. George. Couple others offered, too, but I'm not sure how many we wanna bring. Don't wanna stick out like a sore thumb with ten horses out in the middle of the woods."

You relaxed a bit knowing he would be going with some of Jackson's most seasoned patrolmen.

"Okay," you agreed softly. His face lit up and he leaned forward.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sighed, looking over at the TV as the credits began to roll. He hooked a finger under your chin and dragged your eyes back onto him.

"Thank you," he whispered before pressing his lips firmly against yours, trying with all his might to pour every ounce of affection and adoration he had for you into the kiss. You giggled against his mouth as he tried to push you onto your back once again, but you playfully shoved his shoulder before breaking the kiss and scooting away.

"We told Ellie we'd meet her and Dina for dinner, remember?"

He groaned as if he were in physical pain and reached out for you but you quickly stood up, wagging a finger at him. He gazed up at you from the couch with his brown eyes all wide and gentle.

"I mean it, thank you. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

You blushed and bit your lip as you slowly walked backwards towards the stairs. "You can make it up to me one day."

Joel's gaze darkened and he dug his fingers into the couch cushion. "Just say the word, baby. Anytime. Anywhere."

You laughed and turned towards the steps. "Come on, we should get ready for dinner."

"In a minute," he said as you disappeared upstairs. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to will his raging hard on away before standing up and following you.

You inhaled deeply, your body heavy with sleep as you struggled to focus on Joel's voice.

"Sweetheart, I'm leavin'."

With a groan, you rolled over and reached out for him blindly, your eyes still not fully adjusted to the beam of light shining in from the hallway.

He smiled and grabbed your hands, wrapping them around his neck. He felt your fingers dig into the back of his neck and shoulders as you feebly attempted to pull him towards you.

You asked him to wake you up before he left for his scouting mission, so he did as you requested but you were so warm and soft and supple under his touch that he was finding it impossible to leave.

Maybe you planned it that way.

"I'll be back late tomorrow. I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your temple, taking an extra moment to savor it. When he pulled away, your fingers tightened around his neck and you lifted your chin, kissing him with an urgency he hadn't expected from your half-awake state.

"Come home to me, Joel," you mumbled, your eyes squinting at him through the darkness. He pulled an arm from around his neck and brought your knuckles to his lips.

"Promise."

It was so hard to leave but he kept reminding himself he was doing it to keep you safe. Regardless of what Tommy thought, something in his gut told him they hadn't seen the last of those raiders. He brought them into the mountains, and he was determined to be the one to finish it.

"I'm still surprised she let you do this," Tommy said a few hours into their travels. George was leading the group while he and Tommy brought up the rear. The forest was silent, save for the birds just beginning to wake in the branches above. After a long, painful winter, it was a relief to hear the first signs of spring.

"What'dya mean let me?" Joel scoffed, but when he locked eyes with Tommy, who was giving him a look that said he saw right through his bullshit, Joel grinned. "Yeah, alright, it took a little work but she understood."

Tommy nodded and went back to paying attention to their surroundings. They were officially in unguarded territory, the nearest patrol route now miles behind them. The trees had yet to fully bloom so it was still rather easy to see through the woods.

"I think you really freaked her out when you left," Tommy said, "she came runnin' to the house that mornin' in a panic. Thought she wouldn't let you leave her sight again after that."

Joel hummed and turned his head so his brother wouldn't see his smile. He didn't want to worry you, but every time he heard something like that, it reminded him how much you cared, even if you couldn't say it just yet.

"So, you two back to normal now or what?" Tommy pried. Joel shot him a look and he shrugged. "We got a long journey here. We can't talk to pass the time?"

"Yeah, mostly back to normal," Joel finally answered, shifting his weight in his saddle. He could already feel his lower back beginning to flare up. "Takin' things slow. Givin' her as much time as she needs."

Tommy nodded, reading between the lines. "Didn't look that slow the other night after dinner," he muttered under his breath, but Joel still heard him.

"She had a couple drinks, is all," he replied with a chuckle. He scratched his chin as he thought back to a few nights prior when you had draped your arms around his shoulders and your face buried against his neck for the better part of thirty minutes. It was late, all of the families had cleared out after dinner, leaving behind the adults to kick back and cut loose a bit. It reminded Joel of a time before the world went to hell. When he and Tommy would go to a bar on a Friday night, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes in the air while the patrons had to shout over a mediocre cover band playing Lynyrd Skynyrd. It was the first time in a long time he felt relaxed and at ease. He watched his brother and wife across the bar steal kisses around conversations with neighbors, grateful for a night out as Ellie had offered to babysit. He had you at his side, sipping whiskey and making a face before you switched to something else.

As the night dragged on, you got a little closer. Then your hand found his knee under the table and you tilted your head into his shoulder, quietly listening to him discuss the plan for the trip with George. He wrapped an arm around your waist but his focus was entirely on George, too concerned with the map he had spread out over the wooden table. George's wife finally came to collect him, telling him she was tired and he was too old to be trying to keep up with the younger men, shot for shot. She wasn't wrong by the way he stood up and stumbled a bit, leading him towards the door, leaving just the two of you at your table. Once you were alone, your arms snaked around his neck and you tugged him to your lips, your tongue greedily licking into his mouth, the heavy taste of whiskey and gin on your combined breath.

"You sure it was just the drinks? You don't think it had anythin' to do with Angie sittin' two tables over?"

Joel's face flushed and he cleared his throat. It shouldn't turn him on but he couldn't help it. He liked it when you were possessive over him.

"Didn't think it wise to ask," was all he said. Tommy chuckled.

The group made decent time. They had a grid in mind and they almost reached their desired destination by sundown. When morning came, the plan was they would make their way back towards Jackson and cover the northeast quadrant of the map.

As they set up camp for the night, deciding to forego a fire since the temperature was comfortable and they didn't want to risk giving away their location, Neil commented that they hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary so far.

"Not that I mind coming out here, Joel," he followed up quickly, "always a good idea to take precautions and all that."

Joel nodded and focused on spreading out his sleeping bag. "I appreciate you all comin'. Not sure if I say it enough, but I'm grateful."

Neil and George exchanged surprised looks at the unexpected appreciation.

They got an early start the next morning, and as the sun rose higher in the sky and more ground was covered, Joel began to wonder if maybe they would make it back to Jackson sooner than he thought. He really hoped they would. Even if it was just one day, he missed you. He hated sleeping without you. He hated waking up and not finding you curled up against him with your head resting on his chest or his arms wrapped about your waist, face buried against the back of your neck.

He was glancing around the forest, wondering what you were doing right at that very moment when he spotted something orange in the distance. His heart rate picked up and he whistled, catching the group's attention. He pointed through the trees and they all silently slid down from their horses. Checking their weapons, they fanned out and slowly made their way towards the scrap of fabric. As they got closer, Joel could see it was a knit cap stuck in a bush, fluttering in the wind. None of the men saw any other signs of life, each of them silently communicating with hand signals they were taught years ago.

Tommy heard shuffling and he held up his hand, bringing the group to an immediate stop. From his angle, Joel could see that the bush with the knit cap was right outside the opening of a small cave. The way the trees had grown around the rocks, it was impossible to notice it from a distance.

The perfect hiding spot.

He exchanged worried looks with Tommy before they crept closer, his rifle gripped tightly in both hands, ready for anything. The shuffling got louder and clearer and it became apparent that the noise was coming from right within the mouth of the cave. Catching Tommy's eye, he made sure to show him he was putting his rifle away in favor of his hunting knife. He always preferred a silent takedown over wasting ammunition, but just in case it went sideways, Tommy would be ready to cover him.

Joel situated himself next to the mouth of the cave while the other men, spread out amongst the trees, hid and waited. He reached down and grabbed a rock, throwing it about ten feet away to draw out whoever was hiding.

He didn't even need to see it to know what was waiting for him.

When the rock cracked against a tree trunk and he heard the telltale snarl of infected, he tightened his grip on his knife. The runner stumbled out of the cave with a shriek, jaw snapping angrily in the direction of the noise. Joel had run into his fair share of infected over the years. He knew the noise would have drawn the attention of any infected in the immediate vicinity, and when he only spotted one, he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

He took it down silently with a blade to the back of the head, then inspected the body. It looked fresh, the clothes mostly intact. The rest of the men joined him as they peered inside the cave, listening intently for any movement. When they heard none, they began to advance.

The cave wasn't very big but it was enough to house ten men. At least, that's the number of bodies they found, not a single trace of life left.

"Well, shit," Tommy muttered, kicking one of the mangled bodies with his boot. "Guess that hunch of yours was right."

It didn't exactly please Joel to know he was right, but at least it was the best possible scenario. The men were taken out by infected probably within the past week. He counted the bodies five times. Then recounted the backpacks and sleeping bags. Ten seemed to be the correct number. No one was missing, assuming the runner he had just killed was the only raider who had the misfortune of turning instead of dying right away.

They scavenged what they could from the dead bodies before trekking back to the horses.

"Keep your heads up. Don't mean there ain't anythin' else out here," Joel warned.

"The warmer weather must've thawed out some infected," Tommy mused next to him. Joel nodded.

"Probably should warn the others to keep their guard up the next few weeks," he replied. "Maybe add an extra body to the towers if we can."

Tommy nodded in agreement. The winters in the mountains were harsh but at least they saw a decrease in the undead.

"Now let's get the hell home," George said over his shoulder, the rest of the men mumbling in agreement. Joel ducked his chin to his chest to hide his relieved smile. Home.

To say you were happy to see him return was an understatement. It was closer to ten at night when you finally heard his heavy footsteps on the front porch.

"Told'ya I'd come back," he chuckled when you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight.

"I know," you mumbled into his shirt. His heart swelled in his chest and he closed his eyes, breathing deep the smell of your shampoo. You both had a lot of work to do, essentially starting over and building a relationship from the ground up, but it was moments like those that made him believe everything was going to work out.

"Are you hungry?"

"Nah, just need a shower," he said, dropping his pack by the door and kicking off his boots.

"So I take it you didn't find anything?" you asked, trailing up the stairs behind him. He walked into your bedroom to grab a fresh set of boxers and sweatpants.

"Actually, we did," he began, and your heart plummeted. He saw the look on your face and quickly shook his head. "They were dead by the time we got there. 'Bout ten of 'em holed up in a cave. Infected got to 'em first."

"Oh, wow," you breathed, slowly sinking down onto the bed. "Well, at least you have peace of mind now, right?"

"Exactly," he said, giving you a quick kiss before heading into the bathroom. "Be out in a minute."

You heard the water turn on and you glanced over at the red flannel of Joel's that you slept in the night before. Even though it was clean, it still smelled like him. You glanced at the closed bathroom door and bit your lip, your heart fluttering in your chest as you thought things over. The morning he left, you wished you had told him but you were too sleepy and you wanted it to be more meaningful. Then, when you woke up and his side of the bed was ice cold, you felt the dread begin to creep up your spine. What if something happened and you never told him how you felt?

Well, nothing happened. He was home now. Safe and sound. There was no reason not to tell him.

You heard the water turn off and you jumped up to grab his flannel and scurried out of the bedroom, across the hall to the other bathroom, shutting the door.

Joel emerged a few minutes later with his wet hair slicked back wearing just a pair of sweatpants, per usual. He tossed his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and looked around. He noticed the closed door across the hall and assumed you were getting ready for bed so he slid between the sheets with a groan. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the mattress underneath him instead of the unforgiving forest floor before leaning over to grab his glasses and a book.

When you tiptoed back into the bedroom wearing only his flannel, he didn't notice at first. His focus was on the small print in front of him, blinking a few times and wondering if he needed stronger lenses when you cleared your throat. He glanced up and did a double take, his lips parting in shock when he saw his red flannel hugging your curves, the hem falling just below your ass.

You looked up at him and feigned surprise. "Oh, is this okay? I was cold-"

"Yes," he swallowed, immediately cutting you off, "it's okay."

You smiled and made a show of bending over to fix the sheets. Again, he swallowed tightly when he caught a glimpse of your black underwear and he felt his cock twitch. Before you turned around he made sure to be focused back on his book, although he was most definitely not absorbing any of the words on the page.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you peel back the sheets and with a sigh, you tucked yourself in. You glanced over at him, admiring his strong side profile and the way his glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

"I missed you," you whispered, and he dragged his eyes from his book to look at you.

"I missed you, too."

You caught the way his eyes flicked down to your chest where you purposely left two buttons undone so you exposed a little bit of cleavage.

"What are you reading?" you asked, and he laughed through his nose.

"I've got no fuckin' idea."

In a flash, his book was discarded and you were in his lap, your mouth hungrily devouring his as he carefully removed his glasses and tossed them to the side. He wrapped both arms around you and held you close to his bare chest, his tongue licking past your teeth eagerly.

"You look so fuckin' good in my clothes," he growled, sounding as if it pained him before biting at your jaw.

"I wore your shirts the whole time you were gone," you admitted, rolling your head back and grinding down on his hips. You bit your lip when you felt how hard he was already. "Almost the whole week. I slept in your bed and-"

"Fuck," Joel groaned, grabbing your face with both hands and feverishly plunged his tongue into your mouth. You moaned and grabbed his shoulders, the intensity behind the kiss growing too hot. You could feel yourself tumbling, free-falling into the abyss with the unspoken words sitting heavy on your tongue, hoping Joel would be there to catch you.

"Wait," you gasped, pulling away, but only a little. Your forehead still rested against his as you both panted for air.

"I know, I'm sorry-" he was about to apologize for taking things too far when you cut him off.

"Do you remember all those months ago when I asked how I fell in love with you?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you remember what you said?"

He tilted his head back, lips parted as he gazed up at you, wondering why you were asking him those questions in that moment.

"Yeah," he replied slowly, "I said you're gonna have to wait to find out."

You bit your lip and with a shaky hand, you traced one of the wrinkles next to his eyes. "Well, I found out."

His chest stilled, breath caught in his throat as he processed your words. His eyes roamed over your face, hoping and praying he wasn't misunderstanding. When you saw him nervously swallow, you smiled.

"I love you, Joel."

His eyebrows pinched together and before you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, he pulled you down for another searing kiss. This time, he went slower. He savored every second, he memorized everything he possibly could about that moment because the way you made him feel hearing those words was unlike anything he ever experienced and he didn't want to take a single second for granted.

"I love you, too," he choked. He could feel you smile against his lips when he pressed his mouth against yours again. "Fuck, I love you so much," he mumbled, his hands falling to your hips, "I'd do anythin' for you."

Your mouth latched onto his throat and you dropped your hand between your bodies, your fingers lightly stroking him through his pants. And once again, you felt his muscles stiffen and freeze.

For a moment, the self-doubt crept in. What if he didn't want to? Was he too tired? Was he not ready? Then his hand covered your wrist and you watched as he slowly dragged your hand up and down, showing you what he liked. Encouraging you to continue. So you did.

His head tipped back against the headboard with a sigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, removing his hand and letting you take control. He wanted - no, needed - you to call the shots. You needed to take it as far as you wanted to take it.

When your fingers dipped below his waistband, he tensed.

When he finally felt your soft touch on his cock, he groaned.

It was better than he even remembered. His eyes were still closed as you worked him up and down, the arousal pooling between your legs the longer you spent just feeling him and not seeing him.

"I want you," you whispered in his ear, and his hips jolted as he whined against your shoulder. You wanted him.

When he opened his eyes, he looked absolutely wrecked. You could see that he was trying his best to hold back, trying his best to make sure you were comfortable, that you weren't feeling pressured, that you really wanted it.

But when you sweetly whispered please, Joel, he didn't hesitate. He flipped you onto your back and pulled hastily at the buttons of his flannel while he cemented his mouth against yours. Your hands drifted to his hair and back, pulling and scratching as you went while he finally flung open the shirt. He instantly latched his lips around your nipple, making you moan and arch your back underneath him.

"So beautiful," he mumbled against your chest. "Tell me again."

You smiled and peered down at him. "I love you."

He breathed a sigh of relief, his exhale fanning over your skin, making your nipples tighten. His rough hands slid down your stomach, thick fingers splayed wide, trying to touch as much of you as possible at once.

You could hear your heartbeat thrumming steadily in your ears when he dipped his fingers below the elastic of your underwear, a deafening sound that made it hard to focus but when he slid a finger slowly through your arousal, your senses suddenly sharpened. The house could have been on fire but you never would have known because all you could focus on was him.

He dragged his open mouth across your chest, teeth grazing over your collarbone, tongue flicking out and tasting you as he went. His lips puckered and sucked at your skin as he pet gently at your entrance, making you squirm with need and tug impatiently at his hair. When he pulled his hand out of your underwear, you made a frustrated little noise that made him smile. He popped his finger into his mouth and you watched, struggling to breathe, as his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned like he had just slipped into a warm bath after a hard day.

"God, I missed that," he whispered, and the look on his face made you actually believe him.

"Joel..." you breathed, plucking feebly at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Lemme just make you come on my mouth first," and before you could respond, he was shimmying down between your legs and tugging off your panties. When you glanced down and saw how good it looked with his head between your legs, you relaxed and leaned back. How could you argue with that view?

"Oh," you sighed when his tongue first slid through your folds. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, allowing your muscles to melt under his touch. His hands held your thighs open but he didn't need to bother. There was no possible way you would do anything to stop him. Not when he felt so good, taking his time and expertly lavishing your core with his tongue. And perhaps he was an expert. At least when it came to you, he had five years of experience to fall back on. He surely must have figured out what you liked in all that time.

Your breath was growing ragged and you could feel the heat creeping up your chest. He pressed the backs of your thighs, pushing your knees up towards your chest so he could devour every inch of you, eating messily at your cunt. You pulled your knees back and hooked your hands around each one, your thighs becoming too shaky to hold open with your own strength.

It was a combination of his lips wrapping around your clit and the deep groan that rumbled through his chest that made you come undone the first time. Instant relief flashed through your body and you released your knees, letting your legs fall limply onto the quilt while he eagerly cleaned you up with his tongue.

When he sensed it was too much, he began peppering kisses along your inner thighs, murmuring praise into your skin as he went. You opened your eyes and peered down at him, your breath getting caught in your throat at the sight. His mouth and beard were glistening with your slick, his own eyes remained shut as he mindlessly nipped and kissed your skin, but even from your angle you could see him rutting his hips into the mattress, looking for any amount of friction to relieve the ache.

You reached your arms out to him and he inched up but stopped at your stomach. He sighed and rested the side of his head against your belly, listening to your breath evening out as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist. It took you by surprise that he wasn't immediately jumping at the chance to chase his own release when it was clear just a moment before he was dying for it. You glanced down at him and smiled when you saw the look on his face, simply content with just holding and being close to you. Carding your fingers through his curls, you heard him hum before pressing a gentle kiss against your stomach.

It might have been that moment when you realized he was right. What you had was special and rare. You could feel it in your bones, the way a look or touch sent a jolt right through you. The way you felt drawn to him, even from the very first day of your accident, you could sense something in him. You had no idea at the time what it was, but you were beginning to understand now.

"Joel?" you whispered, worried he might have somehow fallen asleep. Then you felt it. The first hot teardrop hit your skin and your heart clenched. "C'mere," you said, tugging at his shoulders. Begrudgingly, he obeyed. And after his arms loosened and he unpeeled his wet face from your belly, you saw the anguish in his eyes. All watery and wide and guilt-ridden.

"I don't deserve you," he said softly, his voice breaking a bit as you cupped his jaw. "Never did and definitely don't now. Not after everything I've done. Don't deserve your forgiveness, let alone your love."

You shushed him and pressed your lips tenderly against his, your thumb wiping away his tears as they fell.

"Don't tell me who I can and cannot love," you said, taking his chin in your hand and giving it a firm shake, like you were punishing him. He chuckled thickly through the tears.

You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him slower, your tongue just barely dipping into his mouth. He groaned when you began to plant wet kisses along his jaw and you noticed with pride that his chest was rising and falling faster than usual while his hips ground into yours.

"Love you s'much," he almost sounded drunk, the feel of your mouth over his skin clouding his mind and mushing his words together.

"Yeah?" you asked before sucking a bruise where his jaw met his throat. "Then show me."

Joel kicked off his sweatpants and boxers with a grunt but when you went to remove his flannel from around your shoulders, he stopped you.

"Leave it on."

Your cheeks flared with heat at the way he looked at you and all you could do was nod and bite your lip.

It felt like time stood still when you first felt him enter you. Like nothing else in the world mattered outside of those four walls. He held your gaze and your fingers dug into his back, each of you savoring the stretch with your mouths hung open, the only sound was the occasional sharp little breath or gasp from one or both of you.

You could see it in his face again and you had a feeling you mirrored his look. It was too intense. Too overwhelming. So much had happened that led up to that moment: all the fear, sadness, laughter, arguments, long talks and shared traumas came crashing down at once. A tear slid down your cheek right when his hips came flush with yours and he leaned down to kiss it away.

"You okay?"

You nodded and wiped another tear away with the back of your hand.

"It's just a lot, y'know?" you sniffled, hoping he understood. And he did.

His eyes glistened and he smiled, his fingers brushing away a few stray pieces of hair from your face. "I know. We've come a long way."

"Yeah," you whispered, blinking back more tears. Your fingertips traced his bottom lip, your eyes flickering around his face, taking in every little crease and dimple. "Kiss me."

He did as you asked, kissing you slow and deep, matching pace with his hips. Your fingers dug into his arms, holding onto him, keeping him close. His hand pushed his flannel back, exposing one of your shoulders while your head tilted back into the pillows, momentarily breaking away for air. You moaned softly when he began to grind his hips against you, providing your clit with some much needed stimulation while he dragged his mouth down the column of your throat and across your collarbone. When he sunk his teeth gently into your shoulder, he felt you clench around him and gasp.

How's that feel?

Do that again.

Tell me you love me.

I love you.

Those sweet, desperate whispers were shared, breathed into each other's mouths, every word dragged out, every touch deliberate and slow. Neither of you in the mood to rush a thing as your fingers tightly laced together next to your head.

His other hand skirted around your back and under his shirt, palm pressing against your spine, pulling you closer to him, if it was even possible. He flexed his hips and you groaned when the tip of his cock hit a spot that had your entire body buzzing.

"Right there," you whimpered into his neck, brows pinched together and stomach tightening as you concentrated on the fire being stoked deep within you. Every one of his powerful thrusts was adding fuel to the flames. Your skin was slick with sweat and you began to regret keeping his flannel on.

"I know, baby. I remember," he whispered, tightening his grip on you. "Fuck, y'feel so good, I can't-"

"Don't stop! Please, Joel, more," you begged, tears welling up and spilling down your cheeks the closer and closer he pushed you to the edge. Your thighs tensed around his waist and his lips kissed the tears away and when you came, crying his name into his skin, he soothed you. He told you how much he loved you, how much he missed being so close to you, reminded you he was right there, that he had you and everything was okay.

Moments later, you felt his body tremble and his hips stutter. In a haze, you loosened your legs from around his waist. His lips captured yours frantically, fast puffs of exhale fanning over your cheek as he got more and more lost in chasing his climax. Your shaking fingers reached up to get tangled in his hair, ensuring his mouth remained firmly planted against your lips, muffling his groans and garbled versions of your name and I love yous, swallowing everything down until he yanked his hips away, spilling himself all over your stomach.

You both broke the kiss and looked down between your bodies, watching as each weak thrust painted your skin with more and more of his release until he finally stilled and shuddered.

After he finally forced himself to stand, he cleaned you up and slipped back into bed, one of his legs sticking out from underneath the covers, still slightly panting for air. You curled into his side, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him, his nose getting buried in your hair as you listened to each other's breaths even out. You quietly told him about a wound you stitched up at work all by yourself the day before and he told you how proud he was of you. You listened to him tell you a little more about his trip, how relieved he felt now that he confirmed with his own eyes Jackson was safe. At least, for the time being.

The last thing you remembered was him telling you how much he hated sleeping on the ground and how much he missed you while his knuckles soothingly dragged over your stomach but all you could think about was the warm glow that radiated from your skin and the delicious soreness between your legs as you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you heard birds singing outside your window. You smiled before you even opened your eyes. Spring was coming. You always loved spring. Something about it made you hopeful and calm, and that morning was no exception.

You awoke still wrapped in his arms and his flannel, your cheek pressed against his bare chest, one of your legs slotted between his, enjoying the peace and quiet the morning brought.

"I thought you died," you admitted quietly once he woke, your fingertips tracing over the scar above his hip. "When you didn't come back that day, I was so worried. So scared my last words to you were something cruel and hurtful."

He hummed and said, "Oh darlin', I'm so sorry," then kissed the top of your head.

"Don't be. In a way, it helped me realize how much I care about you," you replied, lifting your chin from his chest to glance up at him. He always looked way too handsome in the morning. It was hardly fair. "Made me realize I couldn't live without you."

He grinned and rolled his shoulder, stretching out his sore muscles. "Well, if that's all it took, why didn't you say somethin' sooner?"

You giggled and looked back down at his scar, the smile slowly slipping from your face the longer you looked at the pale jagged edges marring his bronzed skin. "God, that day you didn't come back, though," you continued, your brow furrowed as you thought, "I had the worst pit in my stomach. Almost like I knew something was wrong, you know?"

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting you talk, completely at ease listening to your voice.

"It probably didn't help I had woken up that morning from the worst fucking nightmare."

"What nightmare?" he asked sleepily.

You chuckled when you thought about it.

"It's not really funny," you explained, rolling off of him and onto your back, pulling his flannel closed as you moved. "It had started out just like this, actually. It was morning, we were in bed and we were talking... about death?" you said the last part as if it were a question. "I was asking you if you believed in heaven and I told you I was afraid we were going to hell." His eyes snapped open and he quickly rolled his head to look at you, waiting for you to continue. You laughed again and shrugged. "I guess it felt like a premonition or something. Really freaked me out, it felt so real."

"What else?" he asked excitedly, sitting up. You looked up at him and cocked your head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"What else do you remember? From the nightmare?"

"Oh," you said, pushing yourself up so you were also sitting. You stared at the wall blankly as you thought about it. "You told me we aren't bad people, and even though I told you we had done bad things, I believed you. Then..." you felt your cheeks flush and he sat forward eagerly.

"Then what?" he urged, and when you looked at him again, any trace of playfulness was gone.

"Then... it got a little dirty but I woke up before anything happened. But I do remember you were on top of me and you said-"

"This is heaven right here?" he finished for you, and you looked at him in surprise.

"Yes! How did-"

"That was no nightmare, honey. That happened," he told you, his voice rising. He thought his heart was going to explode, it was racing so fast.

"What?" you whispered, but Joel was already jumping out of bed and tugging on his boxers.

"C'mon, get up! We gotta take you to see Nick!"

"Wait," you said, buttoning up his flannel as he flew around the room, grabbing new clothes for you both. "Joel, this was a month ago, what will going to see Nick do?"

"I-I-I don't know! But we gotta tell him. Maybe there's somethin' we can do if we know you're capable of -"

"Joel, sit down," you said, cutting him off. He froze, having just tugged on a shirt but his jeans were still left unzipped and unbuttoned. You stared at him until he took the few steps towards the bed and sat down on the edge. "I'll talk to Nick next time I'm at work, but I don't want to barge in there and take up his time. You know this is out of his area of expertise."

He looked disappointed but he knew you were right because he finally nodded in agreement and bit the inside of his cheek while he stared at the floor. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, drawing his attention back onto you.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," you said softly. "If my memories come back, then they come back. If they don't, they don't. All that matters is this... right?" you asked, inching closer to him and resting a hand on his thigh. He smiled and enveloped your hand in his.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, staring down at your conjoined hands for a moment. "You wanna go get some breakfast? Maybe talk 'bout it a bit more?"

"Sure," you replied, then leaned forward, kissing him tenderly before standing up. "I should probably shower, though. Last night got a little messy," you said, tossing him a wink over your shoulder. He smirked and watched your ass sway back and forth in his fucking clothes as you made your way to the bathroom. You turned around in the doorway, one hand on the knob, the other braced against the frame as you looked at him expectantly from across the room. "Aren't you coming?"

All the blood rushed directly between his legs and just like that, his excitement for you recalling a memory was replaced by a very different kind of excitement.

"Hell, yes," he said, standing up and shucking off his shirt as he followed you into the bathroom. He grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his mouth against yours, kicking the door shut behind him.

Three Months Later

"Can't believe I'm the one teachin' you how to shoot," Joel muttered in disbelief as you walked back from the line of trees where he had hammered a paper target into one of the trunks. "You were always a better shot than me. Almost better than Tommy, and he was in the goddamn Army."

You laughed and shook your head, still finding it difficult to believe that you ever shot a gun before. From what you remember, you were always afraid of guns growing up.

"Maybe I'm a natural, then."

Enough time had passed and the weather had gotten warm enough where you decided it would be beneficial to re-learn how to shoot. You didn't plan on going back to patrol, but in the world you lived in, it was an important skill to have.

You sat down next to Joel on the fallen tree trunk in the middle of a small field about two miles away from Jackson. He picked up each one of his guns and inspected them, making sure they were clean so there wouldn't be much kickback.

"Have any dreams lately?"

You sighed and shook your head. "Just the one about Ellie, and that was over a month ago."

When you woke up one morning from a dream that felt all too real, you shook Joel awake to tell him about it. It was a simple dream, but it felt intense. You had dreamed Ellie sat you and Joel down at the kitchen table, and full of nerves, explained that she was seeing someone. Someone she cared about deeply. You seemed to catch on quicker than Joel because the conversation lead to where Ellie had to point blank explain to him that she was dating another girl. He seemed surprised but not overly shocked, and when he shrugged it off and still maintained that his only concern was her partner treating her right, her face broke out into a huge smile.

After he confirmed it was a memory, you agreed to see Nick. He didn't end up having much insight on what spurred your sudden recollection that day, just as you expected. But much to your surprise, Joel was perfectly calm. In fact, he made a point of thanking Nick and you even saw him smile at the other man.

And it wasn't just Nick you noticed his demeanor changing toward, either. When kids playing in the street bumped into him, he laughed and waved them off. When Jesse proposed to his girlfriend, Joel was one of the first in line to give him a hearty handshake and wished them well.

You weren't sure if his behavior changed because you were so revolted by it in the beginning, or if he was just happier in general, but you didn't complain.

"Alright, so which one d'you think we're gonna use from this distance?" he asked after he showed you his revolver and then his rifle, explaining the difference between each: how they handled, when to use them, when not to use them, and then finally, how to load and unload them.

You gave him a blank look. "The rifle, Joel. I'm not a complete idiot. I've seen movies."

He grinned and holstered his revolver.

"Good girl. Beauty and brains," he said, and you rolled your eyes.

"Don't start."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Don't start flirting with me. You'll distract me and I want to take this seriously."

"I ain't flirtin' with you."

"Yes, you are!"

He laughed heartily at your frustrated little pout. "Can you blame me? You're so goddamn cute."

"Joel..." you whined, and he held up both hands in defeat before picking up the rifle.

"Alright, alright. Lemme shoot off a few rounds and you watch my form, okay? Watch my shoulders and where my hands go."

"Okay."

You observed him as he took aim at the target, nearly hitting the bullseye but not quite.

"You wanna give it a shot?"

"Pun intended?"

He grinned and held out the rifle, so you grabbed it and sunk down to one knee, resting your elbows on the tree trunk as you tried to imitate his posture.

"Like this?"

"Mhm," he said, "now take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger nice 'n slow."

Doing as you were told, you inhaled and blinked a few times, making sure your vision was clear and your eye was on the prize. Pursing your lips, you slowly exhaled and squeezed the trigger - only to miss hitting the target entirely.

"Shit," you grumbled, sitting back on your heels.

"You got spooked by the kickback," Joel said, "try again, but this time try not to flinch."

You shouldered the rifle and took aim, once again taking a deep breath and focusing on the little yellow circle in the middle of the target. When you fired off your second round, doing your best not to flinch, you clipped the edge of the paper, but you were no where near the center.

"Goddamnit!" you yelled angrily. Joel chuckled and crouched behind you.

"Here. Lemme help you."

He wrapped his arms around yours and pressed his chest against your back, his hands coming to rest on top of yours as he made some minuscule adjustments to your posture.

"Y'gotta be gentle, see?" he whispered in your ear. Your eyelids fluttered but you managed to nod. "Gotta be patient. Don't let her scare you. Think of her as an extension of you. Like another arm."

"Her?" you teased.

He chuckled, his breath puffing against the back of your neck. "Yeah. Her. I'm respectful and careful with all my girls."

"All?" you repeated, leaning into him a bit. "How many are there?"

"Oh, tons," he said, making you giggle. "But if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite."

"A favorite over a bunch of guns? I'm so flattered."

"Hey, now. Didn't you just say you wanted to take this seriously? C'mon, focus up," and you knew he was right so you straightened up and pressed your eye against the scope once again.

Joel stayed behind you, his hands on your shoulders to help stabilize your upper body as you squeezed off shot after shot. His advice helped a little, you were at least hitting the paper, but you weren't getting anywhere near his shots from earlier. He could see you were growing frustrated so when you ran out of bullets, he took the rifle and told you to take a break while he reloaded.

"It's okay, darlin'. It's gonna take a bit to get used to it."

You sighed and slumped forward on the tree trunk. "Yeah, I guess," you mumbled.

For the next twenty minutes, Joel coached you while you struggled to remember all his advice at once. Keep your shoulders loose. Don't flinch. Follow through. Breathe. When you pulled the last round into the chamber and took aim, you expected it to go like all the others so you stopped worrying about it and just pulled the trigger.

"Holy shit, you did it!" Joel exclaimed excitedly. You hadn't even bothered to look, so you quickly brought the scope back up to your face. When you saw the small little circle burning a hole through the paper, nearly dead center, you squealed and quickly placed the rifle against the tree so you could jump into Joel's arms. He wrapped his arms around your ribs and spun you around while you giggled into his neck.

"Told you," he said with a wide grin after he put you back down. You grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into you, crashing your lips together, taking him by surprise. He stumbled forward but wrapped a hand around the back of your neck just as you lost your own footing and fell onto the grass, dragging him down with you.

You laughed against his mouth, still peppering kisses all over his face. He braced both arms on either side of you, elbows digging into the warm grass, smile permanently stretching across his cheeks as he soaked up your affection.

When your laughter died down, you pulled away to gaze up at him, your fingers playing with the dark curls at the base of his neck. The sun was shining over the field and onto his tanned skin, making his sparkling brown eyes look like the color of gold. It took your breath away.

"You're so handsome," you whispered in awe, your fingers leaving his hair in favor of stroking the graying stubble dusting his cheeks. He blushed and shook his head, but before he could protest, you spoke again. "I love you so much, Joel. Sometimes it makes me sad to think we probably wouldn't have ever known each other if the world didn't end."

His eyes softened and he gave you a small smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I'll always find you. In every life, in every universe. You've got a piece of me," he tapped your chest lightly, "I don't make the rules."

You laughed and laced your fingers together with his. "Like fate?"

He shrugged. "Call it whatever you want. I already told you, sweetheart. We're meant to be together."

You pulled him down for another kiss, this one more gentle. More loving. More intimate. For the hundredth time, you mentally berated yourself for wasting so much time after your accident when you could have been with him like this, being loved and adored and cherished all along. Instead, you both had been searching endlessly for some version of yourself that you weren't sure you would ever find again. But then you realized if you never did, that was okay. Because you got to fall in love with each other all over again, and how many people get to say that?

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 6 months ago

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Faking It | Jeon Jungkook | Chapter One

Summary: Being divorced by the time you're thirty isn't the best feeling in the world but what happens when your parents find someone from your past that's in a similar boat? Pairing: f!reader (30) x Single Dad Jungkook (33) (Arranged Marriage Slow Burn?) Word Count: 11.3k (oh man holy shit) Warnings: Troubles with conceiving/seeing pregnancies to full term, Jungkook's first wife passed away in childbirth. (These themes will be spoken about throughout the fic and I will add extra warnings when need be in future chapters) a/n: Okay this one is gonna be a long one (in terms of chapter length, idk how many parts there will be) I'm really really in love with this story line so I hope you'll come along this cute, silly, awkward, heartwarming and heartbreaking journey with me 🥰 p.s. I've been brainstorming with @kkusadmirer (ofc 🤭) about this fic for a while now and I've just fallen in love with these characters too much that I had to get at least one part out. Okay okay enough from me. I hope you enjoy! (barely edited per usual I'm sry 😅)

"You should start dating again" my mom says to me, a dinner with a table for two this time since she said she wanted to talk to me about something important. If I would've known it was to nag me about something like this again I would've declined the invitation.

"Mom I already told you, I just got divo-" "You got divorced last year" she cuts me off and I sigh, knowing I'll probably get no where with this argument but continue on nevertheless.

"Point being, it hasn't been that long since Robert and I got divorced. I need time and space to figure out what I want out of life. I'm not interested in rushing into another marriage just for it to fail again" I explain and she simply downs the rest of her champagne in response, polishing it off in record time.

"You don't want to end up an old maid who didn't give me any grandchildren do you?" she says, repeating the same old argument again. "Mom I'm thirty, not forty five. I still have plenty of time to worry about babies and getting married again" I argue and she rolls her eyes before asking for another glass when the waiter passes by.

"You should at least try. Don't you like going out on dates?" she asks and I sigh, hating having this conversation over and over again.

"Dating was fun in my twenties but now that I'm more interested in finding someone to settle down with, it seems like all the guys that are remotely my age and happen to be decent human beings are already married" I explain and watch how she immediately takes her glass of champagne off the table once it's placed in front of her.

I'm glad she's drinking because having this conversation with her when she's sober is even more painful.

"You're exaggerating honey. I'm sure there is a fine young man just waiting for you around the corner" but before I'm able to respond to her, her eyes suddenly light up and she quickly gets out of her seat.

"Is it really you?" she says and another woman around her age that I've never seen before comes up to greet her. "How are you? It's been so long!" the mystery woman says and they quickly share an embrace before she turns to face me.

"And who is this beautiful young woman here with you?" she asks, making me shy away from them. "Oh this is my daughter y/n. Y/n this is Mrs. Jeon" she introduces us and tells me all about how they used to go to college together.

"Oh wow I think I remember my mom mentioning you before. You used to come over when I was little right?" I question, now remembering seeing her face in some of the pictures in my baby album.

"That's right! Little Jungkook and I used to come visit you all the time when you were just a teeny tiny little thing. You were the easiest baby I've ever come across, always sleeping and when you woke up you were as happy as can be" she rambles and I get a warm feeling in my chest, loving to have met someone who clearly cared so deeply for my mother and I.

"Who's Jungkook" I ask, looking back and forth between the two of them. "Jungkook is my son, he's just a few years older than you. I remember he was so fascinated by you, always wanting to come over and would watch over you as you slept, never causing a fuss as long as you were around" she says and I blush at the fact that her son would care about me just as much if not more than she does.

"How is he? Is he doing alright?" my mother asks and Mrs. Jeon gets a somber look on her face eyes fluttering to the floor before responding.

"Actually, he lost his wife a few years ago. She passed away after she gave birth to their daughter" she mumbles and I feel my chest tighten up at the thought of someone so young losing their life to something that is supposed to be so beautiful.

"My condolences to you all" I say, my eyes going glossy and she smiles in return, the memory bringing a tear to her eye as well. "Thank you love, that's very kind of you" she says, placing a hand on my shoulder before she clears her throat and blinks back her tears, wanting to put on a brave face in public.

"Why don't you come visit us at our home tomorrow evening? I would love to catch up and it would be good if the kids got reacquainted again" my mother suggests and I glare at her, knowing exactly what she's doing but also knowing there's no way I could stop her.

"I would love that! Our husbands might enjoy catching up too since they used to get along so well" Mrs. Jeon points out. "Then it's settled! How would you feel about making it a dinner instead?" my mother questions, digging us deeper into this evening we'll all be spending together. "I think that sounds perfect!" she agrees and I tune out the rest of the conversation, already trying to mentally prepare myself for the scheming I know my mother has planned.

~~~~

Kicking off my shoes and walking into my apartment I'm greeted by the serene sound of silence.

My black tuxedo cat meows as he jumps down from his cat tower and stretches for a second before coming over to greet me. "Hi Salem" I say, scooping him up and carrying him with me into my bedroom where I plop him down in the middle of my bed. "Mom only invited me to dinner because she wanted to tell me to start dating again" I relay to him, while I walk around my room, grabbing all the things I'll need to get ready for bed.

"I should've known she was up to something when she decided to invite me out on a random Wednesday night to go to my favorite restaurant. If the previous glances I had of the totals on those receipts didn't clue me in enough I don't know what would" I say in disbelief, having convinced myself hours earlier that it might've been about something good instead of another chance to nag me about something.

"I don't know why I even bother sometimes. She just has this worst case scenario mindset that I'm going to die alone and not leave a legacy. I understand that I'm their only child but with the way she talks, you would think I was well into my forties already" I say, verbally processing to him while he curls up into a ball, his eyes watch me walk back and forth until I walk into the en-suite bathroom to turn on the shower.

"Thanks for always listening to me Salem" I say, walking back over to him and scratching his head, "Don't know what I would do without you" I mumble before walking back over to the bathroom and closing the door.

Looking in the mirror I study my features, my hair styled just how I like it, my brows perfectly shaped but when I get to my eyes I notice it. I notice why my mother has gotten so worried about me.

It's as if the light's gone out of them. It's more than just 'Hey it's been a long day and I'm tired' no it's 'I don't even know what I'm doing here anymore' and for the first time, I admit to myself that I truly feel that way.

I reach for my cleanser and quickly wash off the little makeup that I still have on, lips completely plain and gone back to their natural color and some how my cheeks don't seem to be as rosy anymore after I had made sure to put on some more blush today to bring some color back to my face. Maybe it's not the makeup that's been washing me out, but the way that I've been living.

I will admit my days consist of going to work and coming home and doing that same thing over and over again. I don't really go out much and I only have a few friends but ever since I got divorced I just end up politely declining any sort of invitation I get from them. Doesn't matter if it's dinner or drinks or clubbing or even just a shopping trip.

I just can't get myself wanting to do anything anymore.

I step into the shower and I flinch slightly at the burning sensation the hot water brings to me but adjust it and step further under the stream once it's just to my liking. While going though my shower routine mindlessly I start trying to get to the bottom of what has got me living like this.

Robert wasn't the best husband in the world, mainly because he cheated on me but before that things were good between us. He made me laugh and was a perfect gentleman that always made me feel special and when we got married I swear I thought I couldn't be happier.

It felt like my life was falling into place, our life.

Until it wasn't.

I'm knocked out of my train of thought when I hear Salem pawing at the door and remember now that in my whirl winded state of mind I forgot to feed him. "Sorry Salem I'll be right out!" I call out for him and he meows in response. I swear that cat is more intelligent than I am most days.

I finish up my uninteresting night as I always do, turning out the lights and cuddling up with Salem until I eventually fall asleep but it took a little longer tonight. Thoughts full of what my future might look like if I don't start living instead of just existing.

As the 'what ifs' plague my mind they eventually drown themselves out as that same welcoming feeling of calm finally lulls me to sleep.

~~~~~~

"Hurry up they're almost here" my mother says, yanking me inside the house before I even have a chance to knock on the front door. "Nice to see you too mom" I say under my breath and she's wound up so tight it doesn't even phase her. I can tell she's been working hard to make sure everything is perfect once the Jeons arrive.

"Did you get that wine I told you to get?" she questions, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the wine bottle carrier in my hand, quickly taking it and rushing into the kitchen. "Yeah no problem mom you're welcome" I say, talking to the air in front of me still waiting for her to show any sign of gratitude.

"Go place your things in your old room so they're out of the way" she call out, leaving me sighing and trudging off to do as she says.

Once I retrace my steps and walk past the door to go to join her in the kitchen I'm stopped in my tracks when the doorbell rings.

"Oh honey can you get that? My hands are tied here" my mom yells and I take a deep breath in and out before doing just that.

"Hello y/n! It's so nice to see you again" Mrs. Jeon greets me as I step aside and let them in, soon after her is her husband who holds out his hand in greeting. "It's been quiet a long time hasn't it? I remember when you use to be-" "Grandpa! Grandpa! I wanna meet the pretty lady too!" a little girl no older than five years old says, walking around her grandfather's legs to get to me, greeting me with the most adorable bunny smile.

"And now who might this be?" I ask, already melting into a puddle from seeing how absolutely adorable she is. "I'm Juni" she laughs when I go down to her level. "Well it's very nice to meet you Juni and how old are you?" I ask and she lights up when I continue taking an interest in her. "I'm four! Well Daddy says I'm turning five soon but it feels like it's taking forever. Right Daddy?" she says and looks back towards the man now left standing in the doorway.

"That's right Juni" he responds and the deep tenor of his voice sends a slight shiver down my spine, so full of love and admiration that is obvious to anyone who might come across the pair. "Oh!" I say, quickly straightening back up to meet this mysterious Jungkook and my throat goes dry once I've laid eyes on him.

Tall, strong build, dark brown hair that's well taken care of and styled perfectly, strong jawline accompanied by the contrast of the softest look in his brown almost black galaxy eyes that are still focused on his beautiful daughter.

"I'm sorry" I say but he shakes his head before he turns his head in my direction, taking in the sight of me as well before speaking. "That's alright, Juni kind of grabs everyone's attention right away" he says giving me a soft smile. "I'm Jungkook" he says, holding his hand out to me. "Y/n" I say shyly and shake it, his hands being much larger than mine is comforting in a way.

"My mom told me we used to come see you when we still lived here" he says once we let go, Juni now quietly watching our exchange. "Used to?" I question, curious to know more about why our mothers had lost touch. "We went back to our hometown for a while and then moved back to the city soon after Juni was born" he says and I nod my head, accepting that as an answer for now but wanting to know more.

"Sounds like I was just an infant though so I don't really have any memory of it" I admit while rocking back and forth on my heels, a nervous habit I've picked up over the years. "It's alright, I didn't expect you to remember" he chuckles, "I was only three so I don't remember much of it either" we laugh at his returned confession and a more comfortable air settles between us.

"Well it's nice to finally meet you" I say and he nods his head. "Likewise" he replies and we stand there for a moment, not really knowing where to go from here then, thankfully Juni breaks the silence.

"Daddy I wanna talk to the pretty lady" she says and grabs my hand and pulls me away from him. "Be nice Juni" he warns and she pouts, leaving me crouching down to her level and tilting my head to meet her gaze. "There's enough of me to go around little one. Don't worry" I say, booping her on the nose and making her giggle again.

Jungkook walks in a bit more and closes the door behind him, watching our little exchange before my mother comes out to check on us.

"Y/n why don't you take Jungkook and..." she says trailing off, not having learned his daughter's name yet. "Juni" Jungkook says and my mother smiles at the sound of the adorable name. "Jungkook and Juni outside. I'm sure she'd love to run around a little bit before dinner is ready" she suggests and I agree while Juni starts jumping up and down, excited to explore an unfamiliar place.

Jungkook follows closely behind as I lead the way but I ultimately end up getting dragged along by Juni who is surprisingly perceptive and has already mapped out the door that we'll be going through. "Come on Daddy keep up!" she calls after him once we've reached the door, looking back and seeing that he's fallen behind.

"I'm right behind you Juni" Jungkook chuckles and once we step outside Juni lets go and runs back and forth all around the yard, looking at anything and everything she can find.

"Be careful!" I say, worried that she could hurt herself but Jungkook comes over and stands next to me and reassures me she'll be fine.

"It's alright, if she gets hurt it'll be a little reminder to pay attention to what she's doing next time. That's the only way kids really learn right?" he says turning towards me, granting me with a soft smile, almost as if he's looking for validation on his parenting choice.

"Of course," I respond, returning the smile, "even some adults need to crash and burn before they learn their lesson sometimes" I point out and it makes him relax a bit more, thankful to see that he's right in his dealings with situations like this.

"She's a good kid" I say after leading him over to the patio set we have out here so we can sit down and watch her. "Thanks, it's been difficult raising her on my own so I'm never really sure if I'm doing a good job or not" he admits and I nod my head, taking a second to think about my response since it's a sensitive subject.

"I can tell that you love her very much so I have no doubt in my mind that you'll always do right by her" and I can tell that my words bring him a sense of comfort. Being a single parent can be extremely difficult especially when you lose the love of your life as soon as you become a father.

I wouldn't wish that pain on anyone.

"Y/n?" I hear him call out and realize that my mind had drifted off for a second. "I'm sorry what did you say?" I say, my cheeks heating up from having been caught daydreaming. "I asked if you had any children of your own" he chuckles and I again try to figure out the best way to word this but figure the best way to go about it is to be honest.

I've got no reason to hide from him.

"No, I got divorced last year and my ex husband and I were never able to have children" I say, looking down at my lap, embarrassed to have admitted it but also feeling a certain weight lifted off my shoulders.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know" he trails off and I panic, realizing I might've made him feel uncomfortable, telling him something so personal so soon. "No don't be, I honestly dodged a bullet with that one" I chuckle, hoping to lighten the situation a bit which thankfully it does as I see his body relax a bit.

"Our relationship had been on the rocks soon after we got married and I don't think we were a good match for each other so I think it was the universe's way of doing me a favor in making us somewhat biologically incompatible" I chuckle and he softly does the same.

"Biologically incompatible" he questions, a deeper meaning obviously hidden behind those words. "We both got checked out and everything looked completely fine but I guess it wasn't meant to be, thank God" I sigh, sincerely thanking whoever might've been in charge of making that executive decision for us.

"I'm not exactly sure what to say to that but I'm glad it worked out?" he states almost as if it was a question and I laugh, in response hoping I can recover this incredibly awkward conversation. "I'm sorry, that was a huge overshare that I probably should've kept to myself" I say, clearing my throat in hopes it would aid in clearing the peculiar air that had settled between us.

"You have nothing to apologize for, I asked and I feel honored that you felt comfortable enough to be so transparent with your answer" he says, the warmth in his tone giving me an ache in my chest. How could someone be so kind to someone they've just met? It's as if I could tell him anything and he would listen to me as if I was the only person in the world.

"Daddy!" 'Well me and Juni', I say to myself and watch as his attention now shifts to his daughter who is running up behind me. "Daddy look!" Juni says, holding out her hands that are now thoroughly caked in mud but hold a rock that is almost a perfectly shaped heart in the center of her palm. "Oh Juni" Jungkook chuckles, the ends of her dress now matching the state of her hands and neither Jungkook nor I can hold in our laughter.

"That's a very beautiful rock Juni! You're so clever" I say and I can see a sense of pride straighten her posture a little bit. "Juni your beautiful dress" Jungkook chuckles, clearly not minding but also trying to figure out what to do. "I'm sorry Daddy" she say, that pride slowly dwindling after seeing the mess she's made of herself.

"Hey Juni" I say, turning her attention back to me and I can see her spirits lift a little. "Would you like to see some of the clothes that I used to wear when I was your age?" I ask and her eyes light up at the thought. "Did you wear pretty dresses too?" she asks, clearly excited about seeing more new things. Her childlike wonderment makes my heart ache. Must run in the family.

"I did, but none of them were as pretty as yours. If you like, you can borrow one of mine while we wash this one" I suggest and the way her head nods up and down so fast makes me chuckle.

"Let's go to my room then! Hopefully we can find something you'll like" I say, standing up and straightening my dress while Jungkook reaches out for Juni's foot.

"Let's take your shoes off before we go back inside baby. We wouldn't want to track any mud into the pretty lady's house right?" Jungkook says, flashing a soft smile at me before looking back down to complete his intended task and Juni complies right away.

My breath hitches as he purposefully uses the nickname Juni had given me and I quickly walk past them and open the door to go inside, trying to clear my head for a second, willing myself to keep it together.

"Are you coming with us?" Juni asks and he nods his head, "I gotta go clean your shoes off first though" he says and I walk all three of us over to the bathroom so Jungkook can do just that as well as wash Juni's hands off.

"Wow!" is the first word that comes out of her mouth when we walk into the butterfly themed bedroom, mesmerizing her from the first glance. "Your room is so pretty!" she says, quickly running around here and there, being careful not to get too close since we haven't gotten a chance to change her dress yet.

"You like it?" I question and she's quick to nod her head again. "I wish my room looked like this" she says, spying all of the little butterfly details from the dainty embroidering on the bedspread to the knobs on the dresser, all of them working in harmony.

"We can go look for some butterfly stuff next time we go to the store if you'd like" Jungkook says while he walks into the room and right up to her while she stares up at the ceiling where there are a couple scattered across it. Nothing is too over the top but there is clearly a theme going on that she is captivated by.

"Really?" she asks, confirmation of what he's said being important to make sure she's hear him right. "Promise" he says holding out his pinky that she quickly wraps her's around as best as she can with her little ones being so tiny in comparison to his. She looks at the two of us before beckoning Jungkook to come closer so she can whisper something in his ear.

"Can the pretty lady come with us too?" she 'whispers' in his ear almost as loud as her speaking voice and I try to hold back my laughter, pretending like I didn't hear a thing. "Why don't you ask her?" he whispers and when he leans back she looks him in the eyes and he nods to further encourage her.

"Um, would you like to go shopping with us to get butterflies for my room too?" she asks, walking up to me shyly. Jungkook looks at me with a soft smile and I notice how the tips of his ears have almost gotten a little pink, his expression soft and charming but his body still showing tell tale signs of nervousness.

"Sure Juni, I'd love to go shopping with you" I say and she giggles in response while running back to her Daddy. "Can we go right now?" she asks jumping up and down. "We'll go another time don't worry baby, we've gotta set up a time so the pretty lady can go with us too right?" he reminds her and although she's sad she has to wait she nods in agreement. "Good, now let's get you out of this so we can make you all nice and clean again" he says, unzipping the back of her dress and revealing the cute little white tank top and tights that she wore under it.

I focus my attention on opening up the closet and grabbing a couple of dresses out for her to choose from. "These ones should fit. Which one would you like to wear Juni?" I say and her eyes flitter back and forth between all of them before giving her a Daddy a devious smile and hugging them to her chest. "I want all of them" she giggles and my heart melts, thinking about how fun it would be if I had a daughter just like her.

"Pick one Juni" Jungkook chuckles and she pulls back flipping through the selection I've made before her eyes light up and find the one she's dying to wear. "This one, this one!" she says, lightly holding onto the skirt and jumping up and down. I shift my grasp on them and hold out the one she chose for Jungkook to take and once he does there a static jolt of electricity that shocks us leaving the both of us pulling away slightly.

"Sorry it's probably from all the fabric of the dresses" I explain and he smiles in response. "Don't worry about it. A little spark never hurt anyone" he says and it's almost as if his voice had dropped a bit with that remark, leaving me widening my eyes a bit before turning back around and placing the dresses back in the closet.

Why does he make me so nervous?

"Lady, lady look!" I hear from behind, and watch as Juni turns this way and that once Jungkook has finished putting the dress on her. "My goodness Juni don't you look adorable!" I say and she runs up to the the mirror in the corner of the room, watching the skirt swish this way and that. "Say thank you Ms y/n" Jungkook says, correcting Juni and finally telling her my name. She sounded too cute calling me 'the pretty lady' I just didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise.

"Thank you Ms y/n!" she says, running up to me and wrapping her arms around my legs since she is still too small to reach anywhere else. "You're welcome Juni" I say, smiling down at her and smoothing her hair down. "Remember Juni, we're just borrowing it so we can wash your dress. We have to give it back to Ms. y/n before we leave" Jungkook says and I can see her excitement dwindle a bit but is no less thankful for being able to wear it tonight.

"Thank you for letting me borrow it Ms. y/n!" she says and I smile again, falling more and more in love with this adorable little girl with every smile she graces me with. "You're welcome" I say and she lets go of me and twirls around in it before stopping.

"Oh! I promise to be really careful and keep this one clean" she says holding out her pinky to do just as she had done with her father moments ago and I kneel down to her level and do just that before booping her on the nose causing another fit of giggles to spill out of her.

"Y/n, dinner is ready" my mother says while poking her head around the corner and I can tell she is completely satisfied by the scene that she's walked in on. "Oh Juni what a beautiful dress!" my mother says, noticing it right away, remembering it was one of my favorites. "Ms y/n gave it to me!" she says, swishing around in it again before doing a full twirl for us.

"Well aren't you the most darling little girl I've ever seen! Are you ready to eat? I heard that mashed potatoes are one of your favorite foods right?" my mom says, holding out her hand for Juni to take and she gladly does.

"Did my grandma tell you that?" she asks, clearly surprised that this complete stranger already knew something about her. "Yes she did. I hope you like them!" my mom says and Juni rushes down the hallway dragging my mom behind her. "Juni be careful!" Jungkook calls out to her but my mom just laughs it off.

"Why don't you show Jungkook where the laundry room is so you can put her dress in the washer" my mom offers up and I nod my head and look up at him. "That's okay I can just wash it when we get home" he says, politely declining the offer. "It's alright, it's best to wash it right away so it doesn't stain" I say, holding out my hand for the dress and he smiles before handing it to me and following my lead.

"You have a lovely home" he says shyly, looking this way and that taking notice of the small details just as Juni did. 'Like father like daughter' I think to myself. "It was my childhood home as you could probably tell from my old room" I say and he hums in response as I stop at the door to the laundry room.

"I know Juni is never going to stop talking about it" he chuckles and I smile at the loving tone that is always present in his voice whenever he speaks about her. We stand there in silence for a bit while I gather the various cleaning products I'll need.

"If you like, I can show you how to get stains like this out? If there was ever a day when I was her age that I didn't get some sort of dirt, mud or grass stains on my clothes my mother would write that down as a national holiday" I say and he laughs at that before accepting the offer.

"Sure, I'd like that" for some reason I can't seem to find the right words so I simply turn around and rinse off the mud in the little sink we have in here. "Do you think you could get that one for me?" I ask, nodding toward one of the stain removers. He wordlessly does as I ask and helps apply a drop or two of it to each of the areas I point out.

"I could've done that" he says now realizing how he's just standing there watching me clean his daughter's dress. "No, that's okay I offered!" I say, reassuring him that I don't mind. I wordlessly ask for the next stain remover before rubbing it in and ringing out the excess water. He opens up the washer lid for me and I toss it in and look this way and that for the laundry detergent.

"Looking for this?" he asks, pulling it off the shelf above the washer. "See, that's a perk of living on my own now. I don't have to worry about things being up too high for me anymore" I chuckle and quickly scoop in the appropriate amount and start the washer.

"Well let me know if you ever need anyone to get something that's out of your reach, it's one of the perks of being tall" he jokes and I laugh but almost shy away from the fact that he expects to see me again. "So I've heard" I say and try to put the detergent back on my own but it soon tips back over and is close to crashing down until he catches it, which in turn ends with him trapping me between him and the washer.

He slides the detergent back in it's spot and takes half a step back, giving me the smallest bit of space. "Why didn't you let me help you? I was standing right here?" he asks, tilting his head at me. "I don't know, I guess I'm just used to doing things on my own now" I chuckle awkwardly. "Well hopefully you'll get used to letting me help you soon" he says, finally taking another step back and giving me a bit more space to breathe.

"Sorry about that" I apologize awkwardly, leaning my back against the washer now with him leaning up against the wall directly in front of me and giving me a crooked smile. "Don't apologize, there's nothing wrong with being independent" he says and quickly scans my body but he does it so fast that if I would've blinked I would've missed it.

"Daddy it's time for dinner" Juni says, her soft steps not having been heard by either of us over the sound of the washer, breaking us out of the little moment that we had been having. "Okay Juni we're coming" he chuckles and holds out his hand for her to take but she giggles and dodges it, reaching for mine instead.

I squeeze past Jungkook as this little room is only wide enough for one person to walk through and the front of our bodies brush up against each other only for a moment until she's tugged me halfway out the door. "Let's be a train Daddy! Grab onto Ms. y/n's hand so you can be the caboose!" she says, turning this trip down the hallway into a game.

"Oh that's okay sweetie why don't you-" he starts but I hold out my hand for him to take, him only having refused for my sake, not wanting to make me uncomfortable with any unwanted skinship. "Grab on Daddy!" Juni giggles and I look up at him and see that he's looking down at me. He chuckles before grabbing onto my hand and the both of us are soon trailing behind Juni as she drags us to the dining room.

Once we get to the dinner table Juni lets go of my hand and runs back to where Jungkook's mom is so she can continue to help her eat her mashed potatoes.

When everyone notices that Jungkook and I have arrived, we're greeted with four sets of eyes, all of them extremely happy to see us. It's then when I realize that we were still holding hands so I gently slide mine out of his, almost wishing I didn't have to.

He looks down at where our hands had been connected when I do and I can almost see that he's also disappointed that I let go but his expression is quickly replaced by an awkward smile aimed at our parents.

When I look at the table I see that Jungkook and I are meant to sit directly across from each other. Which I'm sure is another one of my mother's ploys to get us to keep glancing up at each other, this time though I don't really mind.

When I go to walk to one side to sit down next to Mr. Jeon, Jungkook follows right behind me.

"Oh did you want to sit on this side?" I ask him and he shakes his head, "No, I just wanted to pull your chair out for you" he says and I feel butterflies in my stomach. "Oh, okay" I say quietly and watch as he does just that and slides the chair in behind me once I've sat down. "Thank you" I reply, smiling up at him and he does so in return before rounding the table to take a seat in his place.

"So y/n, your mother told us that you work in photography, is that right?" she asks and I take a drink of water before responding. "Well not really, I've done a few freelance jobs here and there. Enough to keep me afloat so to say but I hope to do it full time soon!" I say and I see Jungkook perk up at that.

"Jungkook has always loved photography as well! He's always been tinkering away with cameras since he was just a few years older than Juni" his mother says while Jungkook cleans off Juni's face as it seems like she's gotten more food on her face than in her mouth.

"What subject do you usually shoot?" I ask, curious to see where his interests lie. "Mostly editorial, but I tend to enjoy the shoots a lot more when they have to do with nature. I believe beauty can be found in almost anything so I tend to just capture whatever inspires me at the moment" he says, his answer being very similar to mine.

"I feel the same way" I respond simply before shying away from the topic as I feel our parents are studying our interaction.

Once they notice the silence they decide to pick up the conversation just throwing facts about Jungkook and I back and forth, pretty much doing the getting to know you game for us without giving us much room to get a word in edgewise. Which leaves the both of us to just follow the conversation and occasionally making eye contact when either side makes a slightly embarrassing comment.

"Hey Dad" Jungkook calls out to his father over the never ending conversation they're having about us. "How's that new project at work going?" he says and I can already tell that it's one of those kinds of topics that once you get him started on it he won't stop and that's just the case as we now watch the conversation take a turn that is thankfully so far off from the two of us.

As time ticks by and the subjects change a few more times I notice that Jungkook has started to get up and clear the table to which I jump up in response to help him.

"Oh Jungkook don't worry about that I can do it later" my mother says but he shakes his head. "It's the least I could do after you've provided this wonderful dinner for my family and I" he says and I can almost see my mother swooning from his response. "Well thank you very much, sweetie can you show him where to place them, just next to the sink is fine" she says to me and I nod, looking up at him and nodding my head towards the direction of the kitchen.

Once we've gone there and back from the table a few times I decide to just start loading up the dishwasher, trying to escape that mortifying conversation for as long as I can. "I brought your glass for you. Wasn't sure if you were planning to finish it or not" he says, walking over and placing my wine glass on the counter next to me. "Thanks" I say quietly, neither of us having said a word to each other since the very beginning of that dinner.

"Your parents are really sweet" he says, breaking the ice and clearly acknowledging how obvious they all were about their motives. "Yours too. I'm sorry about tonight" I say and his brows furrow, clearly not understanding why I would need to apologize. "I knew my mom would end up doing something like this but once her mind is made up there's no stopping her" I admit and he gives me a crooked smile in response.

"Don't worry, I knew what all of them were up to too. My mother was praising you so much and telling me how beautiful and smart and respectful you are so I had an inkling that this was their plan all along" he says and I turn away from him, trying to hide my flustered expression.

"She's right you know" he says, coming around to stand next to me, leaning against the counter while I face it, cleaning up the inside of the sink and grabbing the towel next to me to dry my hands.

"Right about what?" I question, now turning to face him and noticing just how close he's gotten. "About how beautiful you are" he says and I have to blink a few times, trying to figure out why this incredibly handsome man in my kitchen is flirting with me.

I just wanna thank past me because whatever I did in my last life must've been incredible if I'm being offered up a man as remarkable as he is.

"I-" I start but am soon interrupted by my mom walking in on us. "Y/n could you- oh! I'm sorry, as you were" she says, taking small backward steps out of the kitchen, keeping hers eyes on the two of us before turning around to walk back to the living room that they had moved to.

"I'm sorry about her" I say, taking a drink of my wine but he laughs it off. "It's alright, I don't mind" he says watching me with curious eyes as I polish off the rest of it. "Juni has taken a real liking to you" he says and my heart melts at the sound of her name.

"Really? She's probably the happiest child I've ever seen. I really like her too" I say and he smiles, no doubts memories over the years flashing through his head.

"You've done a really good job raising her Jungkook" I say, and his eyes flutter back to mine, this time being the first time I've spoken his name and it looks as if just that alone brought him so much satisfaction. "Thank you y/n" he says, and I feel my heart flutter, the deep baritone of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

"Daddy can I have some cake?" we hear as Juni walks into the kitchen, "Can I have some cake..." Jungkook says, trailing off and waiting for those magic words. "Please?" she says, realizing what he had been getting at.

"Sure baby, Ms. y/n and I will bring it out in a second okay?" he says making her smile as she runs out of the kitchen "Thank you" she calls out over her shoulder leaving the two of us laughing at her enthusiasm.

"That's probably what my mom was coming in to ask us for" I say and he nods in agreement, helping me carry everything out so we can all have a slice of the small cake my mom had gotten for tonight. "How much you want to bet that they sent Juni looking for us earlier too?" he whispers to me as we make our way over to where everyone else has gathered. "You might be right about that one" I whisper back, quickly catching onto all of their little games.

After setting the cake and all of the plates and forks down on the coffee table my mom takes on the task of cutting it up and serving it, with the very first piece going to little Miss Juni. "Thank you!" she says, eyes wide as saucers leaving all of us cooing at her. "Eat slow Juni" Jungkook reminds her, no doubt having troubles with her eating her desserts too quickly.

I take on the task of helping my mother hand out the slices and once I give one to Jungkook I finally notice that the only empty seat is right next to him and he looks down at it before looking back up at me in a silent invitation to sit down and I take it cautiously.

The couch that we're sitting on is kind of a love seat ironically, seeing as the whole theme of tonight is trying to set us up with each other.

Once I've sat down I realize that I've sat right next to him to the point of where my shoulder ended up bumping into his. "Oh! I'm sorry" I say, scooting away from him but with the size of the couch I don't really end up moving all that much. "It's okay I don't mind" he says, before taking a bite of his cake and turning to face the rest of the group.

The seven of us continue talking and talking until we notice that Juni has fallen asleep in her grandma's lap. "Here mom let me take her" Jungkook says, standing up but both my mom and his stand up and wave him off. "That's okay, we're just gonna go put her down in y/n's room" my mom says and before he's able to say otherwise they've disappeared down the hallway.

"Does she have school tomorrow?" I ask once he's settled back down. "No, she's on spring break right now until next Monday" he relays and I nod my head. "And what about you? Do you work tomorrow?" I ask and he gives me a shy smile before responding. "I had a shoot scheduled in the morning but we went ahead and pushed it to the afternoon so I don't have to worry about going home anytime soon" he says and my heart skips a beat.

"No, I mean, well I don't want to keep you for too long. You probably have other things you'd like to get done tonight?" I ask and he shakes his head. "No, this is the only thing I have planned for the night so I guess you're stuck with me" he chuckles. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I wanted you to leave I just-"

"It's okay I know what you meant" he laughs and I now take notice that we're the only ones left in the room. "Oh! Where did my dad go?" I ask, my eyes darting this way and that, not even being able to hear his voice.

"I think I heard something about them setting up the fire pit? I'm not sure but he's outside with my dad right now" he says and I spy both of them looking through the glass door before quickly ducking out of view once they realize they've been spotted.

"Maybe we should head out there" I say but he cuts off that thought by asking me a question that keeps me frozen on the spot.

"Is there a reason why you don't want to be alone with me?" he asks, arm now having been draped around the back of the couch a while ago, completely unknown to me making this all seem a lot more intimate than before.

"Who said that?" I chuckle nervously, clearing my throat before sinking back into my seat. "You just did" he says, nodding towards me and I feel like I want to crawl in a hole and die. I thought I could escape this night without being awkward like this but I guess not.

"You trying to get rid of me?" he teases and I shake my head right away, "No I'm sorry I just-" "It's okay, I'm only joking" he says and I laugh nervously. "So why don't you tell me about yourself?" he says, giving me the most open ended question ever and I scramble to find something but I just can't seem to come up with anything interesting enough to mention.

"Well, my parents pretty much said everything there is to know about me over dinner earlier" I say and he shakes his head. "I want to hear something about you from you. Like what are some of your hope, your dreams, something you're passionate about" he says, being a little more specific this time.

"My dreams?" I trail off, thinking for a second and he watches me as I wrack my brain for something notable. "It's kind of silly" I admit once I've settled on something. "Good thing I've got a sense of humor" he replies, trying to encourage me to continue.

"Well, I've always wanted one of my photos to be on the cover of TIME magazine" I admit and see his eyes light up. "I have a similar dream" he says and my eyes widen in surprise turning my body to face him, wordlessly asking him to share his too.

"I'd like one of mine to end up on the cover of National Geographic" he relays and I smile in turn. "That would be perfect for you! Well, since the subject you love to capture the most is nature I could definitely see your work fitting right in!" I say, excited to see someone else who's trying to aim as high as I am.

"And I could see yours being a shoe in for TIME as well" he says, and I shy away from his praise. "Okay and what's something you're passionate about, and don't say photography" he says, interrupting me causing me to slump down, having to take another second to come up with an answer.

He chuckles a bit at my reaction and I glare at him causing him to smile at me even more so look up to the celling as if it had the answers to something interesting about me.

"Well, I really love reading. I know it might not seem like a passion but when I read a really good book and I find someone who has read it or will at least let me talk about it it's as if I gain a boost of energy and can't contain my excitement. That's definitely the nerdy side of me showing but that's all I can really think of at the moment" I say honestly and when I look back at him it's as if he thought I was the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

"Sorry, I think I got a little carried away there" I say, getting shy from being looked at like that, his soft gaze an expression I'm not used to, especially from someone I just met. "Um, your turn" I say, hoping to get some of the spotlight off of me.

"I know this might be cheating but I do enjoy taking video and editing them. Even if it were as simple as filming Juni for an afternoon, it's something that if given the chance, would be something I could be extremely passionate about" he says and although it is cheating since it's somewhat similar to photography, I'll let it slide.

"Have you thought about switching up your profession to include video as well as pictures?" I ask and he nods before answering. "I have but I haven't taken enough time to seriously consider it. Juni is still young and I want to make sure I have a stable income in order to take care of her and if I'm being honest I feel almost as if a career change could jeopardize that" he says and I watch him with the same intent that he had given me and he too seems to shy away from it.

"It's silly since it would probably be a seamless transition but I can't help but feel reservations towards it" he says and I place my hand on top of his that's in his lap.

"It's normal for a parent to worry about providing for their child. I don't think it's silly at all and it shows how much you truly care about Juni and her well being. She's lucky to have you as her father" I say and he cringes only for a moment before his expression goes back to a softer one. I want to ask what would've warranted a reaction like that but I leave it alone.

"Okay your turn, what is something you hope for?" he asks and I already know the answer to it but I'm hesitant to say. I take a second to try and figure out how to formulate it properly but decide to just go for it.

"I hope to be a mother and have children of my own someday. Doesn't matter if it's naturally or through adoption, I just hope to have someone I can love and care for unconditionally and watch them as they grow and change and pray I'll receive that love and care back from them" I say and he gives me a wary expression and I quickly try to backtrack, not knowing if I've messed up or not.

"I'm sorry that was probably extremely insensitive of me" I say, pulling away my hand but he holds onto it and gives me a sad smile before responding. "I think you would be a wonderful mother. If you were to give your children even half the time and attention you've given to Juni today they would still be incredibly lucky to call you their mother" he says, reassuring me that it's okay to talk about these topics around him.

"Last one?" I question, seeing if he's up to telling me something he's hopeful for. "I just hope that no matter what my family and friends stay happy and healthy. It might be simple but I enjoy the simple things in life" he says and I smile, seeing how truly kind and compassionate he is just from his simple answer. "That's a good answer" I say and we both chuckle a bit before we're broken out of yet again another moment by the sound of our mothers stumbling into the room.

"Oh don't let us bother you we're just going to head outside with your father" Jungkook's mom says to him and I can see now from the warm glow shining through the glass door that they've finally started up the fire pit.

"Oh we'll come outside too!" I say and try to get up off the loveseat. I'm able to stand but immediately lose my balance and feel a strong set of hands on my hips and end up falling into Jungkook's lap. "I-" I start, turning towards him and trying to get out an apology but stop short when I see how close his face is to mine, our noses almost touching.

I hear our mothers head outside quickly and close the door but neither of us pay any mind, both focused on each other to the point where neither of us move for what feels like forever but was only a matter of seconds. When I do try to get up I feel his grip on me tighten.

"I'm s-sorry, this couch is always difficult to get off of" I explain and he smiles. "Like I said before, you have nothing to apologize for" he says, his voice a bit deeper than before and it takes every fiber of my being to stop myself from looking at his lips but when I see his flutter down to mine I can't help but do the same.

"Daddy, why is Ms. y/n sitting on your lap?" we hear Juni say and I immediately get off of him and throw my face in my hands, trying to hide the embarrassment written all over me but Jungkook handles it like a champ.

"Ms. y/n just fell down Juni and I caught her. You know how I catch you sometimes before you fall?" he offers and she walks over to us, rubbing her eyes and immediately climbing onto Jungkook's lap. "Oh okay" she says, yawning again after Jungkook places a kiss on the crown of her head.

"Do you wanna go see the fire that grandpa and Ms. y/n's dad made?" he asks and she hums in approval, still half asleep but wanting to go outside with everyone. "Okay let's go" he says, standing up with Juni in one arm and holding his hand out to help me up. I glare up at him and he smiles, knowing he's added to my embarrassment but I take his hand anyways and he makes no moves to let go once I'm up on my feet, walking us all towards the back door.

Once we're outside though that's when he lets go so he can hold Juni properly while he walks down the patio steps so we can get to the fire pit.

"Juni woke up?" his mother asks and Jungkook nods. "Yeah she wanted to come outside with everyone even though she is still very very sleepy" he says, talking in a silly sweet voice that makes Juni pout although her eyes are still closed. "I'm not sleepy" she says mid yawn causing me to coo at her and when she realizes I'm still close by she sits up off of Jungkook's chest and reaches towards me.

I look between her and Jungkook for a second and he nods his head in approval and hands her to me, grabbing a chair afterwards for me to sit on and pulling up another one next to mine and looks over at Juni to see she's practically sound asleep again. "Are you okay with her?" he asks and I hum in approval leaving him placing another kiss on Juni's head before leaning back in his chair.

"So Jungkook, what do you think of my daughter?" my mother asks and Jungkook chokes on air, not expecting the straightforward question. "Mom!" I scold and she chuckles, "What? It's a simple question. No need to give a complex answer, unless he wants to" she teases and I swear I can even hear Jungkook's dad chuckling at my mother's antics.

They couldn't make it more obvious that they're trying to set us up even if they tried.

My dad luckily somewhat comes to Jungkook's aide and hands him a bottle of water to hopefully help him stop coughing which it does thankfully.

He takes a second to clear his throat and I would be lying if I said I wasn't on edge, waiting to hear what his answer might be. "I think she is a very kind hearted and very intelligent young woman" he says simply and the echos of him calling me beautiful earlier on tonight attach to the end of that.

"And would you like to see her again?" she continues and he then looks over at me, giving me a soft smile and glancing down at Juni before looking me in the eyes again. "We've already planned to see each other again" he says, memories of Juni's invitation to the butterfly shopping trip fluttering through my mind again.

"Did you hear that? Jungkook has already asked to see her again" my mom says, calling over to Jungkook's mom as if she hadn't been listening the whole time. "Well technically Juni asked if I could go shopping with them" I explain and Jungkook chuckles. "Juni is a very smart girl" my mother compliments and Jungkook and I can't help but laugh.

The rest of the night flies by and before I know it we're already standing in the doorway saying goodbye. "It's was so nice seeing you again y/n! I hope to be seeing you again soon" Jungkook mom says, winking at me. "Oh come on honey leave the girl alone" Jungkook's dad says, coming to my aide and saying his goodbyes as well.

Jungkook's parents say a quick goodbye to Jungkook and Juni as well since they came in separate cars and I notice after that my dad pulls Jungkook aside and says something that I regretfully can't make out. Luckily he doesn't seem bothered by it as they smile and shake hands before my dad pats him on the back, sending him off with I can only assume is well wishes.

Jungkook says goodbye to my mother and I can tell how much she's praising him, he thanks her for everything and makes his way over to me a few moments later and it's almost as if it was a ghost town with only Jungkook and I in the entryway now, with him holding a still very sleepy Juni in his arms.

"Thank you for coming, I know this was probably a lot for you" I say, rocking back and forth on my heels and he smiles before answering. "I had fun, and I know Juni did too" he says and I can feel my heart skip a beat, "I did too" I reply shyly. He reaches into his pocket and unlocks his phone before handing it to me.

"Do you think I could have your number? You know, so we can set up that shopping day soon? I know Juni won't be able to stop talking about it until we go" he says, turning into what I could only describe as a shy teenage boy, asking his crush for her number. "Sure" I say, putting it in and calling my number so I have his too.

"Let me know when you get home safe" I say and place my hand on Juni's back and whisper a quick goodbye which regrettably stirs her awake and I mouth a quite sorry to Jungkook but he smiles in response.

"Wanna say goodbye to Ms. y/n?" Jungkook asks and she nods her head before opening her eyes and leaning towards me to give me a kiss on the cheek leaving me speechless. "Goodnight pretty lady" she mumbles before laying back down on Jungkook's chest. He chuckles after seeing my reaction and gives Juni a kiss on her head in response.

"Goodnight y/n" he whispers to me and I send him the same sentiment, walking him to the door and watching as he walks over to his car while he puts Juni in her carseat. He looks back to see if I'm still watching and smiles at me again before getting in his car and driving off.

"So should I schedule an appointment with the caterers tomorrow or...?" I hear my mother say behind me, making me jump before taking a few steps back into the house and closing the door. "Very funny mom" I say, walking over to the living room and plopping down on the couch Jungkook and I had been sharing a couple hours ago.

"What's wrong? He's a nice man isn't he? Plus his daughter seems like she loves you! Why don't you give it a shot?" she asks and I sigh, sinking further back into the couch. "I don't know, I just don't want to get my hopes up" I mumble and she sits next to me, placing a comforting hand on my thigh. "What makes you say that?" she asks curiously.

"It's almost as if he's too perfect. He's handsome, charming, charismatic, a great dad and I don't know, he just seems too good to be true" I admit and she nods her head, understanding my hesitation. "Everyone puts their best foot forward when they're meeting someone for the first time. Just go out with him and Juni in a few days and keep an open mind. It's not the fact that he has Juni that's holding you back right?" she questions, trying to figure out what exactly has got me doubting.

"No not at all! If anything Juni is an added bonus" I say truthfully and she smiles at me. "Good, because I think she's already become very attached to you" she says and I nod my head. "Yeah I think I have too" I mumble and she claps her hands, jolting me out of my train of thought.

"Now all we have to do is get a ring attached to that finger and the three of you can live happily ever after" she says, getting up to clean up the cake plates that sit on the coffee table in front of us.

"Mom" I groan and she laughs, "I want some beautiful grandchildren and if that handsome young man can't help you give them to me then I don't know who could" she continues leaving me sighing, not bothering to argue back since she is definitely right about that one.

I hear my phone chime in my purse moments later after I walk into my bedroom to gather up my things to go back home and see a message from an unknown number but check my call log and see that the numbers match up from when I called myself off Jungkook's phone.

I quickly add him to my contacts before opening up our chat and see a short but sweet message from him.

'Home safe and sound. Thanks for having us tonight. Hope to see you soon?' he sends with a question mark at the end, clearly still wanting to double check on if I'll actually want to see them again. I wait a few seconds, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard before finally composing a message and hitting send before I chicken out.

'See you soon Jungkook. I really enjoyed getting to know you and Juni. Looking forward to shopping for butterflies together!' I say and cringe once I reread it. 'Ugh could I possibly sound more desperate?' I say to myself and toss my phone on the bed, sitting down at the computer chair across from it.

A minute later I hear another message come in and I practically lunge for the phone, praying I didn't weird him out but moments later I feel heat rushing to my cheeks and have to will myself into not squealing.

'We're counting down the minutes until we can see you again. Let's talk tomorrow and set up a date and time' he says and I rush to respond.

'Sounds great! Goodnight Jungkook' I say, ending the conversation before I end up embarrassing myself even more but before I can even lock my phone his message pops up.

'Goodnight y/n, sweet dreams' the message is so simple but it still makes me smile.

"Is that Jungkook texting you?" my mom asks, poking her head into the room and I quickly lock my phone and grab my purse. "Yes it is, goodnight mom" I say, walking past her and straight to the front door with her trailing after me. "Oh come on sweetie you know I'm just teasing you. I really think he's going to be a good match for you" she says and I turn to face her before I leave.

"I really hope so. Say goodnight to dad for me" I say giving her a kiss on the cheek and getting in my car to drive home.

~~~~

Once I walk in I'm greeted again by Salem and he walks up, waiting for me to pick him up. "You're such a little baby you know that?" I chuckle and he meows in response.

I follow the same routine as I always do, carrying him with me into my room and rambling off to him about my day before hopping in the shower but this time I have a lot more to say, leaving me wasting half the hot water and causing me to have to finish up the last bit of my shower in a freezing cold stream.

After finishing up and finally settling into bed I lay down and Salem curls up next to me. "Things might be changing around here boy. I only hope they're for the better, what do you think?" I ask after having told him everything and I'm met with the feeling of him purring and if that isn't a good sign then I don't know what is.

"I hope he likes cats" I say, giving him one last pet before turning off the light and for the first time in a very long time I can finally say I've gone to sleep feeling content. The last thought that runs through my head is one that helps me fall asleep with a soft smile on my face.

I can't wait to see him again...

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lumi077 · 8 months ago

Text

X-Men HCs

A/N: my hyperfixations are not very hyperfixating rn. literally they’re changing so fast. But take some nice little relationship headcanons, and the next Chapter of Winters’ Servants is coming soon!!

Characters included: Logan (Wolverine), Scott (Cyclops), Kurt (NightCrawler), Jean

Warnings: potential OOC, nothing else really. kept it nice and light.

Logan (Wolverine):

Logan would absolutely, if you use them, stretch out your new hairbands for you. If you express that you dislike using them unless stretched, he’ll offer to wear them on his wrists for a day or two till they’re stretched to your liking. It could be the most girly hair ties and he’ll proudly wear three on each wrist. When asked, he’ll happily tell them “Just stretchin ‘em for my woman/man/partner”

Scary dog privileges? Scary dog privileges. He adores making you feel safe enough to wear the most skin revealing or feminine clothing. You want to wear something revealing/very feminine but tell him you're scared? He’ll instantly assure you and tell you to wear anything you want. If someone says something, he won’t hesitate to shut them up before you even hear.

There’s going to be a point in your relationship that you’ll realize he absolutely doesn’t care about any of the gross stuff you do. Burp, Fart, don’t shave? He really doesn’t care in the least bit. Definitely the boyfriend that will go, unphased, into the bathroom while you're on the toilet and brush his teeth or shower without a care in the world. If you are comfortable that is, and he secretly preens when he realizes that you're comfy enough to do that stuff around him lol.

I wholeheartedly believe that when he realizes he wants you to be his forever partner, he’ll gift you his dog tags. His past is very personal to him, because he could never remember it for a good part of it. His dog tags are only second to him getting down on one knee.

Speaking of getting down on one knee, sorry for all the people who want it to be a surprise, but he won’t make a big deal and will tell you about his plans beforehand. No surprise engagement, and no public one. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he wants to make sure you’re ready and want it too. He doesn’t put much on marriage because it doesn’t change much, and doesn't want you to feel pressured to say yes because there are people there. He’ll love you the same married or not, but he does note how pretty you look with the ring he bought you on your finger.

I personally believe he would be more likely to get in a committed relationship with another mutant. I just think a lot of the X-Men would want to be able to relate to their partner and have their partner relate to them, and Logan is going to live a long life so…I can't truly see him with a normal person.

If you are apart of the X-Men, while he won’t baby you or anything, he finds himself keeping an eye on you the most. There have been a fair amount of times that you find yourself having a Logan shield on the field, and even more often if you are susceptible to projectiles.

Dates are a norm at this point, Fridays are always the day he takes you out. It’s usually the same place, but he thinks it’s nice.

Flowers are also a norm, if you mention you like them.

He doesn’t do much on Valentine’s day because he already does all the normal valentine’s day stuff it weekly or bi-weekly. Does get cheat food so you guys can eat it and watch stupid rom com movies though.

Scott (Cyclops):

First and Foremost Scott is such a golden retriever. Anything you want, he obtains quickly and with 0 thoughts of you getting him something in return. He just wants to see his partner happy and healthy, with a smile on their face as often as possible.

He is very big on PDA, likes to hold your hand, or slip an arm around your waist, put his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, etc. Overall he just likes touching you, and just because you're in public doesn’t mean anything.

Adding on to his liking of PDA, I feel like he’s possessive. Like in the one X-Men movie, when Logan goes into the past and stops bad shit from happening and goes to touch Jean and he blocks him? Yeah he does that with you but with everyone. He likes people knowing your his and what’s better than you two being attached at the hip in public?

He likes when you wear his things as well, not so much for people knowing you’re his like mentioned above but just because you're adorable in it. Want his sweatshirt? He’s giving it to you even though it's negative 5 out. His cologne? Just take the whole bottle, even though it’s brand new. He’ll get another one!!

When he’s on missions and away, he gives you so many shirts and even a pair of sweats. Sprays the stuffed animals he got you with his cologne, same with your pillows. He will expect the same if it’s you going away for a long time. Or you’ll come back to him sleeping on your side of the bed where it smells the most like you, his face stuffed in one of your pillows that has one of your shirts on it.

He is very vocal about being your boyfriend, and you being his partner. Everyone in the world knows, yet no one asked. He’ll gush about you to whoever will listen, the rest of the team is so done but they do admit his devotion to you is adorable.

All the ladies and gents and nonbinary pals who want an over the top surprise proposal, this is your man. It’s super romantic, he pays for your nails if you wear them, getting your hair done, and a new outfit. And you can’t even tell it’s because he wants to propose because he does this all the time. Then he takes you to your fav restaurant and pops the question.

Make no mistake though, he has to be 100% sure that you want him to propose to do so. He’s so attuned to you and your likings he gets your dream ring without having to ask everyone close to you first. Which also assures him no one can spoil the surprise.

He is one of the few ones who probably doesn’t care if you're a mutant or not, because his love is 100% blind. He would probably want a mutant partner, but once he falls he falls hard.

He also won’t baby you if you’re in the X-Men, but if he happens to laser them first? Not his fault.

Kurt (NightCrawler):

He is a very shy partner at first. But once he falls for you, and you make it obvious you have fallen for him it all goes out the window. He is a completely different person around you, confident and flirty. He is just so in love.

Teases you almost constantly, he’s a teaser with everyone but he loves to see you blush and squirm from his words.

Loves if you run your fingers through his fur, and almost emits a low purr when you do. If you brush it for him, especially if he doesn’t ask you but you WANT to, he swears he is going to marry you one day.

He takes you places you told him you wanted to go to when you guys were in the talking stage. Paris? Done, let’s get some baguettes for back home! The Bahamas? Pack a bathing suit, and make sure to bring the detangling brush.

He loves non sexual acts of intimacy, like taking baths together!! Your fingers feel like heaven on his scalp when you massage the shampoo and conditioner in his hair. He also loves touching your body, he’s always careful with the fact he has claws but he would never dream of hurting you.

Big on cuddling and all that stuff in private, but I feel like he would want to keep it behind closed doors. Not because he doesn’t love you, but because he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands on you otherwise.

Long missions with him are never a problem, he’ll just teleport to you wherever you may be and spend time with you before heading back.

He’s your call bird, and the gossip you two are able to share with one another? It is divine. He seems to know everything, and you know the most obvious stuff but he always makes you feel like Sherlock Holmes when you tell him things he already heard and was going to tell you about. Which is why he always makes you spill the tea first lol.

For marriage and proposing, I can see him accidentally proposing on a mission. Tensions are high, and he’s worried that one of you won’t make it home to the other. The thought alone makes him dread the upcoming battle, but he grabs your hand and looks into your eyes and states with all the conviction in the world “We’ll get married after this.”

You brush it off, after you both survive the battle, that he didn’t mean it. He just wanted you to know how much he loved you. But oh how wrong you are when you walk into a room with all your close friends and family, Kurt in the middle down on one knee and asking you to marry him. Your face was priceless, and lucky for him everyone took pictures.

He definitely carries around a photo with you wherever he goes, and when he prays he takes it out and not only asks that God protect him, but you as well because there is no life beyond you. Even if you’re not religious he’ll still do it, just for the peace of mind.

Jean:

She’s the black cat of the relationship for sure. I mean, she has a lot of issues but she always makes you her first priority.

She keeps tabs on you constantly. What’s your mood, why? She’ll talk to you in your mind when you’re anxious to calm you, and let you know that she’s there with you. She’s probably an anxious persons’ best friend. You don’t even have to talk, she knows what you mean and changes accordingly.

She is big on communication for sure. If you do something that bothers or hurts her feelings she will sit you down and talk to you about it. And she has this certain way of doing that doesn’t make you feel guilty. She’s just letting you know what she does and doesn’t like and won’t tell anyone else. These things are very private to her. And she expects you to do the same, and her feelings are never hurt by it.

Jean’s type of love is selfless. She would put herself in danger tenfold just to keep you safe. Mutant or not, she would be the one to baby you if you’re a part of the X-Men as well. There’s always a kind of bubble around you, that not many but you notice. Hence, people think you’re indestructible because you’re the only one who came back uninjured for the fourth time.

She wants to be independent, but also loves when you do stuff for her. She will never ask, but her heart warms so much when she sees you did something for her because you wanted too and not because she asked.

She plans your dream proposal. She is almost a roommate in your own mind, she knows what you like and don’t like.

Small extra blurb: imagine giving telepathic hints that you want a proposal. She thinks “Why are they broadcasting their ring si-ooooh. I see.”

She is so gentle with you, almost afraid that you’ll break and it’ll be all her fault. The way her hands gently caress you or how she holds your hand is so incredibly gentle.

#xmen #xmen x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #scott summers #scott summers x reader #Cyclops x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner x reader #jean grey #jean grey x reader #xmen headcanon #lumiwritings

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gotham-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd chapter here. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

--------

Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

#this was all written in one go #so that's fun #more angst than anything honestly #not really any yan but it is supposed to be for yan stuff #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #neglected reader #sibling reader #reader tries too hard and does their best but finds out it isn't enough #some things just aren't meant to be #but that doesn't mean they get to run around scott free either #not series

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farmerstarter · 1 year ago

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The Bachelors and How They Sleep

hello lovelies! Have some more of my headcanons. These HCs are for a gn! reader. If you have any requests then feel free to send me an ask! Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated 🌷🤍

Alex:

🏈 Moves a lot during his sleep. But he doesn't outright punch you by accident. You always seem to end up being under him.

🏈 Mumbles a lot too. One time, you woke up to him counting to himself, just like how he counts his bicep curls.

🏈 Wakes up early, just a few moments before you. He says it's because he needs to exercise the first thing in the morning. But it's actually because he felt you move out of the bed and he doesn't like to be alone.

🏈 Gives you all the pillows to make you comfortable. He says it's important for your muscles to get a good night's rest. He ends up hogging the blankets.

Elliott:

🪶 Sleeps like a dead man. He doesn't move at all, save for the occasional turning to the side to snuggle against you.

🪶 It takes him a while to finally succumb to slumber. He says it's because he's used to listening to the waves of the beach to fall asleep.

🪶 Silk pajamas, the man has sets of them. He keeps his hair down while sleeping so you sometimes wake up to your whole face being covered by his locks.

🪶 He's a late riser, mostly because he sleeps late too. He tells you that he writes better at night and he doesn't allow himself to rest until he's finished writing one chapter at least.

Harvey:

🛩️ Sometimes, Harvey forgets to take off his glasses before he goes to bed. Which is why he has so many broken ones that he tries to hide from you by kicking them under the bed.

🛩️ Professional cuddler. He always makes sure you're in his arms or vice versa. He needs to touch you in order to get a good night's rest. Doesn't matter if you two are spooning or if it's just his hand on top of your arm.

🛩️ Snores a lot. Goes "hoooonk mimimimimi hoooonk mimimimi"

🛩️ I like to imagine him wearing those pajamas that's like just a long night gown and those floppy pointy hats. You know the one.

Sam:

🎸 Alex mumbles in his sleep, Sam straight up sings. Usually it's outbursts of the choruses of his songs, sometimes he'd hum the tune out. You have a video of him playing air drums while sleeping. You sent the video to Abigail and Sebastian, and they never let Sam hear the end of it.

🎸 He wakes up super late most of the time. But on the rare occasion where he doesn't, he cooks breakfast and serves it to you in bed. Complete with a flower in a vase and everything.

🎸 Always kisses you before he falls asleep. Straight up drags you to his side of the bed to peck your lips.

🎸 Would take off his shirt to put it on you. He says he doesn't want you getting cold at night and waves you off when you refuse, worried about his wellbeing. "I don'T gEt sicK eaSiLy, Babe," ends up in the clinic to get meds the next day.

Sebastian:

👾 It's my headcanons and I say he moves a LOT during his sleep. So much so that you end up on the floor when you wake up. He refuses to believe that he does that.

👾 His sleep schedule depends on you. He refuses to sleep unless you're already in the house. He doesn't like the feeling of sleeping when he doesn't know you're safe. You'll find him waiting for you on the porch.

👾 Prefers to sleep on the side of the bed where the sun doesn't shine.

👾 Immediately feels it when you get out of the bed. And he wakes up immediately, groggy and needing a few minutes to register where he is. Even if you're just going to get a glass of water, Sebastian would wake up and ask where you're going.

Shane:

🐣 This man says good night to all the chickens in your coop before he goes to bed, I decided.

🐣 He used to get little to no hours of sleep but after moving in with you, he tries to get enough sleep as possible.

🐣 Hugs you in his sleep, all the time.

🐣 He wakes up the same moment you do, sometimes earlier. He gave himself the job to take care of your farm animals so you don't have to work too hard. So he wakes early to get the job done as soon as possible to spend breakfast with you.

🐣 My brother in Yoba, he would wake up in the middle of the night to get a snack. You would sometimes catch him in the middle of drinking cows milk straight out of the bottle in front of the open fridge.

#stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley headcanons #sdv alex x reader #sdv alex #sdv elliot x reader #sdv elliott #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey #sdv sam x reader #sdv sam #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian #sdv shane x reader #sdv shane #🌱 writing :: bachelors

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latin5mamii · 2 months ago

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Hate you - Jude Bellingham

WARNINGS: smut, +18 minors dni, cocky Jude alert!! Long chapter😚

SUMMARY: You hate him, right?Or at least you thought so…

GENRE: Enemies to lovers

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all so much for the love on the first chapter! I’m so grateful for your support. I’ve been taking a short break to improve my writing, especially since English isn’t my first language, and i didn’t expect so much support! I’ll be back with being more active on writing soon, but I’m focusing on making each story better. Thanks for being patient and for all your love!🤍

You didn’t even know why you actually accepted this ‘date.’

Right now, in front of your bathroom mirror, you literally want to die. You agreed to the date to do what? Prove him wrong? Show him you’re unaffected by his charm? “Pride can get you killed” God, they were so right for this.

You pace back and forth, scowling at your reflection. You don’t want to give Jude the satisfaction of thinking he got under your skin. But here you are, taking extra time to look perfect, as if you’re about to meet someone who actually matters. You feel stupid for caring this much.

With a groan, you finally decide on an outfit. Casual enough to say “this means nothing,” but still flattering enough to make him choke on that smug smirk of his. You’re definitely not doing this for him… just a reminder to yourself that you’ve got it like that,right?

Now, as you stand in front of his door, you can’t shake the nerves. It’s just the usual banter, you tell yourself. It’s not a real date. Besides, the setting doesn’t matter,he’s still the same infuriating guy you can’t stand.

The door swings open, and there he is, leaning casually against the doorframe like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life. He’s in a simple black tee and jeans, looking annoyingly relaxed and somehow even more attractive. You’re already regretting the butterflies in your stomach.

“Right on time,” he says with a smirk, stepping aside to let you in.

You roll your eyes, determined to stay in control. “I’m punctual. You should try it sometime.”

He chuckles, leading you into the living room. It’s a sleek, modern space, but still cozy. A bottle of red wine is already open on the table, two glasses waiting. You glance around, trying to keep your mind off the fact that this feels oddly intimate.

“Wine okay with you?” he asks, pouring the glasses.

“Depends. Are you planning on getting me drunk to make this bearable?” you shoot back, taking the glass he hands you.

Jude raises an eyebrow, amusement in his eyes. "Of course not," he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "Though, if I did, at least then you might admit you actually enjoy my company."

You scoff, taking a sip of the wine. It's smooth and surprisingly good. "Never."

“You never give up, huh?” He smiles at you and you feel your cheeks literally burn. And despite your best efforts, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“There it is,” Jude says, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“There what is?” you ask, taking another sip to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“That smile. You spend so much time pretending to hate everything, I was starting to think you forgot how to have fun.”

“I know how to have fun,” you retort, your tone defensive. “Just not with you.”

Jude chuckles, settling into the couch beside you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, but not so close that it feels like an invasion of space.

He swirls his glass of wine. “How long are we going to keep pretending that you hate me?”

You meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “I’m not pretending.”

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone.

Your heart skips a beat, but you refuse to show any sign of weakness. “I don’t need to prove anything to you,” you say, your voice steady despite the rapid pounding of your heart.

Jude’s smirk returns, and he leans in slightly, just enough that you can feel his breath on your lips. “Scared you might like it?” he taunts, his words laced with that same infuriating confidence.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to back down.

“Please,” you scoff, though your voice wavers just slightly. “There’s nothing you could do that would make me like you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to your lips for just a fraction of a second before meeting your gaze again. “I think you might be surprised.”

You want to argue, to tell him he’s full of himself, but the words stick in your throat. Because, deep down, you know there’s a part of you that’s drawn to him, no matter how much you try to deny it.

He leans back slightly, giving you just enough space to breathe, but the intensity in his gaze doesn’t waver. “Why did you agree to this date?” he asks, his tone more serious now, the playful edge gone.

“I didn’t know this was a date,” you reply, lifting your chin defiantly, trying to regain the upper hand.

Jude chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Come on, you’re smarter than that. You knew exactly what this was.”

You meet his gaze, trying to keep your voice steady. “Maybe I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I’ve heard enough stories about you.”

“Oh, yeah? And what did you hear?” he asks, leaning in again, his eyes locking onto yours.

“That you’re an overconfident player who can’t even drive himself to his own games and training,” you quip, a smirk tugging at your lips as you throw the dig his way.

Jude laughs, clearly amused rather than offended. “Fair enough. I guess I’ve got other things I’m better at.” He gives you a slow, suggestive smile, and you roll your eyes, even as your heart skips a beat.

“You’re so full of yourself,” you mutter, taking another sip of wine to distract yourself from how close he’s sitting, how warm his presence is next to you.

“Maybe,” he admits with a shrug, “but I think you like it.”

“Think again,” you shoot back, but the words come out weaker than you intended.

Jude shifts even closer, his knee brushing against yours, and you can feel the heat radiating off his skin. “I know you’re trying hard not to, but you can’t help it. I’m in your head, aren’t I?”

The tension between you is electric, the air so thick with it that it's almost hard to breathe. You try to find the words to throw back at him, to maintain your composure, but they catch in your throat as Jude moves even closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"Just as i thought" he murmurs, his voice so low it sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounds in your chest, every instinct telling you to push him away, to make some cutting remark and put him in his place. But you can't. Instead, your body betrays you, leaning in just slightly, drawn to him in a way you can’t quite control.

Jude notices, of course. He always does. His eyes darken, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he closes the gap between you. “See? I knew you wanted this.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, but the words lack conviction.

"Make me," he challenges, his voice a rough growl as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals the breath from your lungs.

His touch is fire, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that mirrors your own, and you arch into him, unable to hold back the soft moan that escapes your lips as his mouth trails down your neck. It’s overwhelming, the intensity of it all, but you don’t want it to stop. You want more,more of him, more of this, whatever it is that’s driving you both to the edge.

Jude’s lips find yours again, and this time the kiss is slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring the taste of you, the feel of your body beneath his.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I'll stop” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and full of need.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper back, the admission slipping out before you can stop it.

Jude doesn’t hesitate. He kisses you deeply, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you into his lap, your legs straddling him as he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming over your back, your sides, as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of you. The sensation of his body against yours is overwhelming, the warmth of his skin searing through your clothes, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as his hands find their way under your shirt, fingers brushing against your bare skin.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he mutters against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

“And you’re so fucking annoying,” you shoot back, but the bite in your words is softened by the way you’re clinging to him, your body betraying the emotions you’ve tried so hard to keep in check.

His response is a low, satisfied growl as he flips you over onto the couch, his body hovering over yours. The weight of him pressing you into the cushions is intoxicating, and for a moment, all you can do is stare up at him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to catch your breath.

"Say you hate me again," Jude dares, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers the challenge. "I want to hear it."

You know he’s playing with you, pushing you to admit the truth you’ve been denying for so long. But instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer, your hands gripping his shirt as you bring his lips back to yours in a fierce, hungry kiss.

"Fuck you," you murmur against his lips, but there's no venom in your words. It's almost affectionate, a twisted way of admitting that you've lost this battle, at least for now.

Jude grins against your mouth, his hands sliding under your shirt, fingers tracing over your heated skin. "I was hoping you'd say that," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

His hands slipping under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head. He leans back just enough to take you in, his eyes dark and hungry as they roam over your body. “You don’t hate me. You’ve never hated me.”

“Shut up,” you repeat, but the words are weaker now, barely a whisper as he kisses a trail down your neck, his hands making quick work of the rest of your clothes.His teeth grazing your skin as he makes his way lower, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips when he finally reaches your chest. His hands are everywhere, caressing, teasing, driving you wild with need.

“You’re going to beg,” Jude whispers against your skin, his voice a low growl. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

You bite back a retort, determined to stay in control, but it’s getting harder with every touch, every kiss. When his mouth finally closes over your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple, you arch into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you try to pull him closer.

He’s relentless, his hands and mouth driving you to the edge, but you’re not ready to give in. Not yet. You pull him up, capturing his lips in another searing kiss, your hands fumbling with his belt as you try to get it undone.

Jude grins against your lips, helping you get rid of his jeans, and when he’s finally free, you can feel just how hard he is, how much he wants you. It sends a thrill through you, knowing that you’re affecting him just as much as he’s affecting you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down against you, and he groans, his hips grinding against yours. The friction is almost too much, and you’re both breathing hard, your bodies pressed together.

But Jude doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath. He moves down again, this time sliding his hand between your thighs, finding the wetness there with a satisfied growl.

“Already so wet for me,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding against your slick folds, teasing you, driving you crazy with need.

“Jude…” you moan, trying to keep control, but it’s slipping fast.

He chuckles darkly, his fingers dipping inside you, curling just right, and you can’t stop the way your hips move, seeking more of his touch.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and commanding. “Say you want me.”

“In your dreams,” you pant, even as your body betrays you, moving against his hand, desperate for more.

“Every fucking night ” Jude growls, his thumb finding your clit, pressing down just right, and you gasp, your back arching as pleasure courses through you.

He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, his mouth replacing his hand as he moves lower, his tongue sliding against your sensitive flesh, tasting you, driving you wild with every stroke.

“Jude, please” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Jude looks up at you, his eyes dark and full of desire. “There it is” he says, his voice rough with satisfaction. “I knew you’d beg.”

But he doesn’t stop. He continues his relentless assault on your senses, his tongue flicking over your clit, his fingers sliding inside you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge until you’re right there, teetering on the brink.

“Come for me,” he murmurs against your skin, and that’s all it takes. You cry out, your body convulsing as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Jude’s lips curl into a wicked smile as he hovers above you, his body pressing against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable. He slides into you with a slow, deliberate thrust, making you feel every inch of him as he sinks deeper. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips.

“Fuck,” Jude groans, his voice low and rough, “You feel so good. So fucking tight.”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out, but it’s useless. He knows exactly what he’s doing, each thrust driving you wild, his words only adding fuel to the fire.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “You like this, don’t you? Being fucked by the guy you ‘hate’ so much?”

You dig your nails into his shoulders, clinging to him as he picks up the pace . “Shut up,” you gasp, but the way your body responds to him betrays your words. Every roll of his hips, every deep stroke has you melting beneath him.

“Oh, I don’t think you really want that,” Jude taunts, his voice dripping with confidence. He pulls back slightly, just enough to leave you wanting, teasing you.

“Tell me how much you want it. How much you want me.”

“Jude…” you moan, the sound more of a plea than you intended.

His eyes darken with desire, and he pushes back in, harder this time, his pace relentless as he drives into you. “Say it,” he demands, his voice rough with need. “Tell me you need me.”

You’re on the edge, teetering between holding on to your pride and giving in to the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you. His hand slides down your body, fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight, skilled circles that have you seeing stars.

“Fuck, Jude,” you cry out, your body arching into him, your resistance crumbling. “I need you. I need you so fucking bad.”

“I knew this from the beginning” he growls, his lips crashing down on yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. He pounds into you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, the combination of his cock inside you and his fingers working your clit driving you insane.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body trembling beneath him as the tension coils tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Jude’s name falls from your lips,you can’t think about anything else.

“Come for me,” Jude orders, his voice a low, commanding growl. “I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

It’s too much. You cry out his name as you come, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm, every muscle tensing at the feeling.

Jude follows you over the edge, his hips snapping against yours in a final, powerful thrust as he spills inside you, his groan of release vibrating through your entire body. He collapses onto you, his weight a comforting pressure as you both struggle to catch your breath.

Jude’s hand strokes your hair gently, a completely different gesture from what happened just moments before.

“Still hate me?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, but there’s an edge of vulnerability there too.

You manage a breathless laugh, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. “You’re still annoying as hell,” you reply, but there’s no real bite to your words.

Jude chuckles, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Good to know I haven’t lost my touch.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “Too late for that”

#x reader #fanfic #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham one shot #bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jb5 #real madrid #x reader fanfiction #female reader #smut #x reader smut #enemies to lovers

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ikeuverse · 9 months ago

Text

NEW BEGINNINGS — l.heeseung

PAIRING: dad!heeseung x fem!reader GENRES: fluff, humor, a pinch of angst WC: 8.7k+

WARNINGS: mention of unwanted pregnancy, turbulent relationship, drinking, some swearing. let me know if i've forgotten anything too.

SYNOPSIS: flirting with your brother's brother-in-law wasn't in your plans after returning from studying abroad. it wasn't something you were going to stop either since heeseung was the epitome of beauty. but when there's another woman's name in the story. what happens? you don't want to be caught between a betrayal… or so you thought.

NOTES: i think this turned out a lot cuter than i intended. initially it was going to be very short, but i wanted to add a bit of plot and maybe add a one chapter or two to it to give more attention to yn with the little one and the development of her relationship with heeseung. i hope you like it!

part 2 | masterlist

Studying abroad for your university degree was a dream. Spending two years in Barcelona seemed like such a distant dream, but in the blink of an eye, you were already on Spanish soil. And as if that were fast enough, those years passed so quickly that before you knew it, you were back in the apartment you shared with your younger brother.

Sighing, you threw yourself on the sofa and let the tiredness of the trip take over. Smelling the familiar scent of Jay's cologne that hadn't completely disappeared.

Being back was incredible. Now, finally, you could work in your field and be close to your family too. It hadn't been that long, but you still felt sad not just because you missed them, but because you had missed important moments with each of your family members.

Like, for example, when your parents bought their dream house. Lots of rooms to welcome their children and anyone else who wanted to sleep over. A backyard so big that it had room for your father's gardening, a swimming pool, and a small hut where your mother made a studio for whatever artistic thing she was obsessed with at the moment.

You also missed out when Jay started dating her in his final year at university. The girl was simply incredible and you got to know her over a video call, but it still wasn't the same. It was different from his older sister's attitude – even if it was a year apart – where his girlfriend would come over to your parent's house, you'd make a huge fuss and a fake scene of jealousy.

Not that you weren't jealous of Jay, but Heejin was so sweet and loving that all you could do was sigh and smile at her as she introduced herself on her cell phone screen and told you that she was looking forward to meeting you in person.

And Heejin threw such a big party as soon as you arrived. She was in charge of making the snacks and taking them to your mother's house, telling you so much about her that you were dizzy, smiling from ear to ear at the girl's excitement. Jay watched in the background, laughing now and then when you looked at him, silently congratulating you on having found someone as nice as her.

"Do you like chicken? I learned how to make this chicken paste last week and Jay loved it, I think you'll like it too" she said shyly, handing over one of the snacks she'd brought.

And she got it right. You loved it so much that you even asked Heejin to make it the next time you two met. Which never took long because she was always at her apartment with Jay or her parents' house.

It seemed that as well as being a sister-in-law, you had found a very good friend.

"I'm home" Jay announced loudly as soon as he walked through the living room door, making you abandon your thoughts completely as you jumped onto the sofa "Did I scare you?" he laughed as he looked at you, messing up your hair before walking past you and straight into the kitchen.

You stood up, walked over to where he was, and leaned against the doorframe to watch your brother get a bottle of water from the fridge.

"So" Jay turned to you, his breathing a little labored and you noticed that he was completely sweaty "I came running because it's going to rain, don't think nonsense" he warned you, noticing that your expression began to change as soon as you saw his state.

Your laughter filled the kitchen along with Jay's, and he walked over to the worktop and sat down on it.

"I didn't think anything" you held up your hands to defend yourself, biting your lower lip to hold back another laugh "I got home from mom's a while ago, I was lying there thinking about so many things."

"About what, for example?" Jay came around the counter and sat on the stool behind you. This forced you to get down and turn around to face him, watching your brother still enjoying his cold bottle of water.

"About how, even though I love Barcelona, I've missed out on a lot with you all here."

"Come on, y/n. We've already had this conversation" Jay warned.

And it was true. He knew how much you wanted to complete your fashion course abroad, but at the same time, you didn't want to leave your parents. Jay chose to stay, earning well-deserved recognition at the gastronomy school in the city itself while supporting you every second.

"I know, but I can't get this weight off of me" you pursed your lips, forming a pout that he grimaced at.

"How about we go out so you can forget about it?" Jay proposed, seeing you try to hide a smile as he leaned over the counter and took your hand "Come on, I still have some friends you know who are dying to meet you again."

"Who, for example?" you asked.

Jay seemed to think for a moment, remembering all the people from his college that you knew. Even though you only studied with Jay for a short time, it wasn't enough to get to know all his friends or maintain a lasting friendship with them. Since your brother was well known, you were afraid that he would approach you just to get to him.

"Sailor will be there" Jay shrugged, knowing that she was the first girl you'd made friends with on the design course, "and that insufferable Jake."

"Oh, my little brother will be there?" you smiled dreamily, seeing Jay roll his eyes.

"Little brother? That son of a bitch is just my childhood best friend, not your little brother, y/n."

You laughed so loudly that you saw Jay shrug his shoulders as he did so. Going around the counter, you hugged your brother and laid your head on his shoulder, sighing a little lighter after talking to Jay. It always calmed you down.

"I'm going to love hanging out with them, and especially with you."

Jay kissed the top of your head and you could feel him smile with his lips up there after he returned your embrace. His fingers were cold from the bottle he was holding, now gripping your body as he got up from the bench to stand next to you.

"So get ready, because we have this program every Friday. And you're part of it from now on" he said, pulling away from you and telling you that he was going to take a shower because it was too sticky.

You just agreed, thinking of preparing something to eat with your brother after he got out of the shower. And you started to get a little more excited until Friday arrived to meet up with some friends again, and finally go out with your brother after so long.

"Why do you spray so much perfume?" you almost shouted from your room as Jay passed you in the hallway of the apartment, stopping walking and heading straight for your door.

"I sprayed it a couple of times" he said "Okay, four" he corrected after noticing your serious countenance looking at him "I get nervous every time I go to meet Heejin, so…"

"That's cute" your lip formed into a pout, beckoning him into your room while you finished getting ready "But I don't think she'll care how smelly you are or not. Considering we're going to a nightclub."

"You're right" Jay tried to relax, throwing himself onto your bed in a lazy way. "It's just that I never stop thinking about how much I can impress her since we started dating, you know? It's so different."

"How different?"

Having these conversations with Jay was something you loved, mainly because it felt like he was older and not you. So listening to him ramble on about something or even vent about anything made the two of you feel even closer to each other.

Hearing how in love your brother was made you so happy and smiley, even more so because every time he mentioned Heejin, or even you said her name or said you were talking to her, Jay sighed. A complete fool in love, you joked.

He never denied it because he really was. And it was clear every time you saw the two of them together since you arrived. Holding hands, caresses and hugs, declarations and compliments. Something so loving that there wasn't even room to tease your brother about how sweet he was being.

"We can go now" you said after a while when Jay again told you how he felt about Heejin. And how he was afraid of losing her.

Your role as older sister was to make sure that your younger brother was doing a great job and that he was an amazing guy. Not to mention that the two of them got along very well and had your approval, so that was enough.

Jay left that apartment so happy that he was smiling to the parking lot, then with you to the club to meet the rest of his friends. He didn't even notice the smile, only when he arrived and felt his jaw aching after talking to you so much.

"Hold my hand so you don't get lost until we find the guys, okay?" you just agreed as you headed for the entrance to the club and Jay gave you the names for access.

Entering the venue, you and your brother had to dodge a few – a lot – of people dancing back and forth, others trying to make conversation with both you and him, but backing away when they saw you holding hands. You caught a scream in your throat and then laughed along with him, people probably thought you and Jay were a couple because you were holding hands. Ew.

"Finally!" the voice shouted from ahead and you looked over Jay's shoulder.

With his free hand, your brother nodded and then continued to approach until you were close enough to let go of your hand.

"I thought you weren't coming" Jake ruffled Jay's hair as he approached the group, hearing the boy's curses before turning his eyes to you "Little sister!"

"Little brother!" you replied with the same excitement, only for both of you to tease Jay, who was cursing at both of you. Jake was quick to run towards you and hug you.

"Don't ever travel that long again, I've missed you so much" he whispered while still hugging you.

"I promise I'll take you with me next time" his smile widened so much that you swore his cheeks were sore from smiling so much.

Saying hello to Sailor, your only friend from university, was something you were looking forward to. She had been one of the only people at the beginning of your school year before you moved to another country, who came to talk to you without any interest in your brother. Sailor was so nice, communicative, and giggly. The two of you got on so well that even when you moved to Barcelona, contact wasn't lost. Your happiness was undeniable when Jay told you that she was still in the group of friends, now as Jake's girlfriend.

Sunghoon was another friend of the boys that you got to know as well, arriving close to high school where he was drafted onto the soccer team that Jay and Jake played on. Of course, the three of them would become friends. He introduced you to his girlfriend. Joan, it wasn't someone you knew, but she seemed nice because she complimented you a lot and even asked how you were able to put up with a bunch of boys without slapping any of them.

Maybe I slapped you here or there, but I swear I could have done more. Joan's laugh was cute, and Sunghoon's small eyes when he smiled as he listened indicated that this man had been completely snared.

"Hi, y/n. I'm so glad you came" Heejin, your sister-in-law. So beautiful, with a comforting hug and very caring. You remember that, ever since you arrived, she asked Jay if you were all right every day.

"I guess you'll all have to get used to someone else in the group" you told her as you hugged her, tightening your arms around Heejin. She kissed your cheek and then pulled away from your face a little.

"Oh, this is going to be amazing. This way my brother won't feel so lonely" she whispered because she was too close to your face, so her voice wouldn't be hard to hear. You frowned at that, what do you mean her brother?

You hadn't paid attention to the people around you unless they came to greet you. Or you hadn't taken the time to notice who was with your group until your eyes shifted from Heejin's face to focus on the male figure next to the three boys.

Of course, you'd heard about Heejin's brother and even seen some pictures of him with Jay on social media. But you were so focused on your studies or even on finding out how your brother was doing that you didn't even have the luxury – or the time – to go and find out who Jay's new friends were, apart from the ones you already knew.

Heejin gradually moved away from you and, at the same moment, the only boy who hadn't said hello was waving to the boys and heading towards you and your sister-in-law. He couldn't take his eyes off you and you couldn't take your eyes off him, it was as if neither of you wanted to miss each other's next move.

"Hi" what a voice that is, my God. You wanted to shout to yourself "I'm Heeseung."

Heeseung, of course. The name wasn't strange. Considering how many stories Jay posted with Heeseung, who was always at parties with your brother.

"Hi, I'm y/n" even if he knew her name, it wouldn't hurt to introduce yourself, right?

By now Heejin had already stepped aside and let you talk to Heeseung, but you hadn't even bothered.

"Now I have someone to keep me company," Heeseung smiled and you swore you let out a loud sigh, but because of the volume of the music he hadn't heard. Good!

"Why? Are they that bad?" you asked Heeseung.

He leaned a little towards you, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he shrugged in the process. Heeseung's breath smelled of strawberries, so maybe he'd had a drink before you arrived.

"Wait until everyone's drunk" he whispered, "You can bet on which couple gets the hottest out of all of them."

"Can we bet money? Me and you?" your eyes lit up at the word bet, looking like a child who had just heard the most magnificent thing in the world.

Heeseung wanted to ignore the way he was smiling so much, feeling his heart skip a beat with your smile and your gaze so close to him. Even though he had leaned towards you just to talk. He wanted to think so, after all, you were all out clubbing, and if he wanted to have a conversation with you, he'd have to get closer.

And because you were so beautiful and smelled so good, he was simply attracted.

"I didn't bring that much money today" Heeseung pursed his lips "But we can bet drinks at the bar, what do you say?"

"Will you buy me one?"

"Now? Of course" of course, he had to stop this "I need to show you the best drink in this place before you get hooked."

"Do the honors, then" you smiled back at him, almost shouting when Heeseung's hand gently touched your back. Even though no skin was exposed because your shirt covered most of it, his fingers seemed to have shocked the spot.

Heeseung felt a warmth emanating from his fingertips and wondered if he had overstepped any boundaries since he had touched – even on your back – without your permission. But as soon as you started walking, being guided by him, the boy saw no problem in following you with his hand still touching you.

"Hey, Mingi" Heeseung waved to the bartender as soon as you and he arrived at the bar. From the intimacy, the place seemed to be frequented quite often by him and your brother's friends. The man behind the bar waved cheerfully.

"The usual?"

"Actually, I'll have a Rum Punch" Heeseung's slurred accent almost made you sigh again, but you held back only because he held your gaze even though he was talking to the bartender in front of you "For this young lady here."

"Oh, new here?" Mingi began to prepare the drink, showing off his skills with the utensils and how to stir that metal glass that you didn't even know didn't spill a drop.

"I've been away for two years" your voice came out a little louder than you would have liked, but Mingi smiled and shook his head "I'm Jay's sister."

"No kidding!" he seemed shocked by the information and you almost asked if it was bad to be Jay's sister or something "Jongseong, that ugly guy, has such a beautiful sister?"

Shit, your cheeks started to heat up. But you couldn't tell if it was because of Mingi's compliment or because Heeseung's hand slid from your back to your waist. He was still touching you, and it didn't seem to bother him or you.

"Here, Miss Park" he smiled after placing the glass on the counter, "enjoy the best of our bar."

You thanked him and took the glass, turning to face Heeseung.

"I hope you like it because, honestly, it would suck to say this is the best drink and have you hate it" he pressed his lips together, looking a little apprehensive about your reaction. You laughed at how cute he looked, agreeing with a little nod.

Touching your lips to the glass, you took a small sip just to test it out. As Heeseung said, it would be a shame for you to hate something that he advertised so much. But no, you loved it! And your murmur of approval only made his smile grow even wider, so you took another long sip before offering it to him.

"Come on, have some since you introduced me to it" you smiled at him as you tilted the glass for Heeseung to take. But he seemed too busy still holding your waist, with both hands this time. One on either side of you, making you want to scream and at the same time take a step forward and stand so close to him.

That drink wasn't taking effect that quickly, but it was Heeseung's fingers on your body that were making you like this.

So you held your breath a little when he leaned over, touching his lips to the glass and looking at you. A silent request for you to turn the contents just right because he wanted to drink from your hand. Heeseung wanted you to give him the drink.

And you did.

You carefully turned that glass until he had a good sip and then turned away to wipe his lips with the tip of his tongue and moan in satisfaction at the liquid going down his throat.

"Like I said, y/n" he said, his eyes wandering around the club and then finding you again. Heeseung leaned close enough so that his face was close to yours – for the second time that night – and his gaze quickly fell to your mouth "This is the best drink in the bar, and the night is going to be so long that we can try as many as you want" why had he whispered that part? Why was Heeseung whispering while staring at your lips?

You just nodded, sipping some more of that good, newfound liquid, as you felt him pull you into the middle of the dance floor.

The boy was right, it was going to be a long night.

You didn't know that your sister-in-law was a graduate in the same field as you at university in Barcelona. You also didn't know that you would receive an offer from the studio where she worked and, a few days later, be hired.

You also didn't know that your relationship with Heeseung had become pure flirtation, smiles in each other's direction and gentle touches on the hands, waist, and even long hugs when he went to pick up Heejin and ended up giving you a lift too. Or when he went to visit Jay to play video games in his living room. You also didn't know that you would let Heeseung lean his head on your shoulder and fall asleep so deeply on the first night of movies in your shared apartment with your brother after Sunghoon said he didn't want to go clubbing that day.

Everything was going so differently from what you had envisioned for your return to the city, but no way could describe the way you felt with Heeseung. Because it was different, wasn't it? You felt that way.

Because you didn't feel a chill in your stomach when Jake laid his head on your lap after coming home from work, or you didn't feel your face heat up after Sunghoon kissed the top of your head when you all decided to meet up for dinner. So why did you feel those things with Heeseung? He also lay on your lap, he also kissed the top of your head. But only he was able to take away your sleep some nights, resulting in you being almost late for work and hearing Heejin ask if everything was okay.

"Jongseong was playing late again?" she asked angrily, making you laugh.

Thinking about your brother, you wanted to answer but settled for pressing your lips together to avoid smiling.

"I've just had a bad night" your lips quickly curled into a pout and she imitated you.

"I know someone who can help you with that" Heejin hummed, picking up her cell phone and typing a few things as she watched you go to your desk.

Trying to stop her from talking to Heeseung was practically impossible, as she and Jay did a great job of making you feel awkward in front of him. But not in a bad way, not at all. The two of them only managed to make you shyer and shyer every time something happened.

Do you need help with the popcorn in the kitchen? Heeseung, help y/n. I'm watching the movie with your sister.

Are you going out for dinner? Heeseung and y/n sit next to each other, their seats already assigned.

When you all decided to go to the amusement park together and he wasn't too keen on entering the castle of horrors? My sister will hold your hand and, if the fear goes away, you can kiss her as a reward. Jay's sentence could have been a whisper only to him and Heeseung, but because you were so close, it was sure to have been heard.

"Y/n, I… I'm sorry—" you took his hand, entwining your fingers in Heeseung's as you smiled at the boy.

"You heard my brother, right?" now Heeseung felt even more courageous with your words. So he could kiss you after everyone had passed through that castle of horrors? Surely he wouldn't miss it.

But he did.

As soon as you all left, Heeseung received a call that he urgently needed to go home. You didn't object and the others seemed to understand perfectly when the boy said goodbye, you being the only one who received a quick kiss on the cheek before he ran out of the park.

"I wonder what happened?" Sailor asked as you all started walking to the park's next attraction.

"Maybe it's because of Aimi, he said he'd be alert in case he needed to go home" Jake intertwined his fingers with Sailor's and walked beside her.

Just then, you stopped. Wait, Aimi? Heeseung had someone else? No, it couldn't be.

All that time you two were exchanging, you were being part of a betrayal? Holy shit. It couldn't be possible.

The whole situation put a lump in your throat and your stomach began to churn. You walked with your friends out of sheer habit, seeing that they were all in the queue for the rollercoaster. By instinct, Jay looked in your direction and saw how scattered you were, walking over to stand next to you.

"It's just a rollercoaster, you know? You don't have to be scared" he joked, laughing a little as he put his arm around your shoulders.

Trying to be gentle, you pushed his arm away, starting to feel a weight on your chest that you didn't even know existed.

"I… I'm going home" your voice came out shaky. Shit, don't do that, y/n!

"What? Y/n, is everything all right?" Jay looked at you now rather worriedly, holding you by the shoulders and, once again, feeling your hands drop as you walked away.

Your brain didn't process the fact that your legs were quickly pulling you out of there, walking away from the roller coaster queue while you listened to the boys calling you. You ignored it completely and walked to the parking lot where you tried to look for your brother's car since Heeseung had left and you had gone with him to the park.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit" the curses were starting to flood out of you as your eyes stung, but you weren't going to cry. Not because of that.

For God's sake, the two of you hadn't even kissed, why feel so stupid?

"Y/n, I found you!" Jay was panting behind you, having stopped running and feeling his heartbeat speed up even more from the little exercise he'd done to find you.

He then walked towards you very slowly, trying to catch his breath and testing whether he could do it since you had pushed him away twice in less than a minute.

"Hey, are you all right?" he asked "It was the rollercoaster game—"

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" you interrupted him.

Jay frowned in response, glancing at you as soon as you stopped right in front of him and caught a glimpse of your face in the dim light of the amusement park parking lot. He saw your watery eyes and knew you could cry at any moment.

"What about?" he asked you again, and you realized that it couldn't be that he knew either since, in your brother's mind, you were like that for the roller coaster. But wasn't it obvious that it was for Heeseung? It didn't make sense.

Your chest ached a little more when you remembered his static face when you left quickly and how your friends commented on the girl so naturally that it was as if you weren't there.

You opened and closed your mouth, tried to say something and nothing came out the way you wanted it to. It sucked that everything was like that. When you finally plucked up the courage to talk to your brother, your phone rang, startling you both.

The handset came out of your back pocket and Heeseung's name flashed up on the screen. You didn't realize the grimace you were making until you looked at Jay and saw that he was waiting for you to pick up, but you didn't. You simply hung up. You simply hung up.

"What's going on?" he kept looking at you.

"Nothing" another ring from Heeseung and you would have hung up if Jay hadn't been quicker and answered on the second ring.

"Hey dude, it's Jay" you could hear Heeseung's voice in the background, but you couldn't understand much of what he was saying. Something seemed to touch the back of your brother's mind because he laughed deeply as he looked at you.

What's funny, asshole? You hissed while he still had your phone to his ear and was talking to Heeseung.

"Maybe that's why, but I'm not the one who's going to explain it to her" your brother's gaze was mixed as Heeseung said a few more words and the two finally hung up.

"What the fuck was that, Jay?"

"Heeseung called me… I mean, he called you to explain why he'd left so quickly" he told you.

"I think Jake already did that" you shrugged, showing how encouraging the conversation was because your sarcastic smile said it all.

"Listen, sis. It's not that—"

"Jay, please don't" you whimpered "I'm feeling terrible because all this time no one told me that Heeseung had someone else and we were acting like…"

"A couple, I know" you really hated it when Jay was able to complete his sentences more directly because maybe you would only respond like two people with more touches "That's exactly why he needs to explain it to you, not me."

"I don't want to listen, thank you."

"But you kind of will" he pursed his lips and put his hands in his trouser pockets, running his tongue over lower lip to suppress a smile "Because every two weeks Heejin and I go to Mom's for lunch, and this time since you're here, I'm going to make a point of calling Heeseung too."

"You wouldn't do that…"

"Oh, I would" Jay smiled this time.

And you knew for sure that your dear brother would be able to do it.

You felt like jumping over the kitchen counter and lunging at Jay, but you were left to stir the chocolate in the pan to make a ganache for dessert. Your brother, smiling even too much, put the tomato slices in the glass dish while looking at you now and then and holding back a laugh.

"Cancel it with him, please" you almost cried, almost got down on your knees to Jay begging him not to come.

"Nope" he hummed, excitedly, "I like having my brother-in-law here. Besides, Mom loves it when he brings Aimi along."

"You're a motherfucker—"

"Hey, why am I being cursed at?" your mother chimed in. Jay burst into laughter and you just rolled your eyes, choosing to forget the conversation.

But your brother seemed to have plans to annoy you all weekend, and it was only Saturday. You wouldn't be able to stand it without hitting him once.

"I was telling y/n about Aimi" Jay said.

"Oh, I miss her so much" your mother said with such love that you rolled your eyes at the melted chocolate just so you wouldn't have to face the two of them who were heaping praise on Aimi.

For God's sake, did they have to do that in front of you? Maybe your mother didn't know what had happened between you and Heeseung, so the poor thing wouldn't be punished by your eyes almost shooting her. But your brother would. That asshole was going to pay dearly for every mention of Aimi's name and the way he openly smiled at you after saying it.

It didn't make sense for Jay to tease you about it, it didn't make sense for any of your friends to be into that sort of thing. Everyone there was dating, so why did things have to go that way with Heeseung?

Had Jay already cheated on Heejin, so he was an accomplice? Or had Jake and Sunghoon also been unfaithful, hence the partnership?

It wasn't easy to get into your head and you spent almost the whole week mulling it over, as well as running away from all Heejin's questions and why you were ignoring her brother.

"I just… I don't know, Heejin" you replied.

But she knew, of course, she knew. The only way to understand what was going on was to ask Jay, and like a good gossip, he would tell his girlfriend. Heejin even thought about clearing up the misunderstanding, but as her boyfriend had said, Heeseung was the one to do it.

So it was easy to convince him to go to lunch at your mother's house. You wanted to think it was because of the pool out back or her food, not because he had to explain something to you because you didn't want to hear it.

You refused to fall for his charms while he explained why he had cheated on you for a long time – totaling a month and a half, unfortunately, you counted – only for you to discover that there was another woman. And it wasn't even Heeseung who told you, it came out of Jake's mouth.

If your friend hadn't said anything at the amusement park, would you have known about her? Or would you continue to be fooled until you kissed Heeseung, fell even more in love and then he left you?

"Shit" you cursed quietly when the doorbell snapped you out of your thoughts.

All the food had been ready for a long time and you and your brother had decided to wait, sipping a glass of wine that your mother always left out for you to enjoy while they cooked.

It had to be the Lee siblings, so you decided to fill your glass and lean on the kitchen counter, not having the courage to move your feet as your brother walked past you and smiled with his mouth against the glass he was drinking.

"My love" Jay called out, and you knew it was Heejin he was greeting.

"Heeseung, Aimi!" that was your mother, and your stomach immediately churned at the mention of her name "Y/n, come over here."

I don't want to.

You should answer, that's what you had to do.

But contrary to your thoughts, your feet betrayed you and made you walk to the kitchen door so slowly that you were almost dragging yourself. Perhaps the glass of wine could have helped and stopped you from hugging them both, it would have been a perfect excuse while you just greeted everyone and went back to the kitchen.

As soon as you arrived, your eyes went straight to Heeseung and… A child? Heeseung was holding a little girl in his arms and she was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

Dark hair, curious eyes, and flushed cheeks. She closed her little eyes as she smiled when Jay approached to take her in his arms, hearing the most delightful giggle you could ever remember a child having.

"Hey" Heejin greeted you before anyone could say anything. The two boys were very entertained by the little girl, who was mumbling a few things and talking to them, while your mother was already looking for a cartoon channel for her to watch "Are you okay?" your sister-in-law toasted with her full glass, and it was then that you noticed that she was holding Jay's glass.

Your head just nodded, saying nothing until Heeseung's eyes landed on you. He frowned when he saw how much wine was in your glass and you couldn't hide it since, as it was full, any sudden movement to place it behind your body could cause it to tip over.

Jay still had the little one on his lap and held her hand as he turned to you. She smiled in your direction and you tried to smile back, begging the heavens you hadn't made a face to scare the poor thing.

"Hi, y/n" Heeseung said directly to you as soon as you arrived at your mother's house. You shook your head at him, a silent way of saying hello. Your voice would waver if you said anything since it was the first time you'd seen him since the day at the amusement park, so you couldn't risk having a shaky, slurred, or harsh voice. So just a nod would be fine.

"You can choose any cartoon that uncle Jay will watch with you before lunch" Jay raised his hand and the little girl clapped it, making an animated hi-five as you watched your brother walk over to the sofa with her.

Your eyes lingered too long on the two of them animatedly chatting about the colorful cartoon characters that you didn't notice that Heejin had gone to talk to his mother and Heeseung was standing in front of you.

Hands in his pants pockets, hair slightly mussed, and biting his lower lip. He looked a little apprehensive for his taste.

"Y/n…"

"Bathroom" the little girl announced before Heeseung could even finish his sentence. He quickly looked over to where she was sitting and excused himself as he picked her up.

"Ready to use the bathroom?" he had such a beautiful smile when he talked to her that it seemed too encouraging, you almost forgot that you were angry with him "I'll be right back" Heeseung said before disappearing down the corridor in search of the downstairs bathroom.

That's how long it took you to stare at Jay and take a long sip of your wine before you saw him return with the little girl still on his lap.

"I did it, uncle Jay" she celebrated and Jay got up from the sofa, picking her up again.

"You were amazing, you know that? Your dad and I are so proud of you," he said.

Dad?

You bit your tongue to keep from screaming at that moment. The only thought running through your mind when Heeseung was still in the middle of the room but with his gaze fully on you.

"Y/n, that's Aimi" he pointed to the little girl who, as soon as she heard her name called, turned towards him "My daughter. And sweetie, this is y/n, uncle Jay's sister."

"Fuck" you whispered so quietly, not out of indignation, but because there was a child and you couldn't swear at her.

So your only reaction – apart from widening your eyes – was to gulp down all the wine and feel it burn your throat as you ran to the kitchen.

Your luck was that Aimi only nodded for a few seconds before turning her attention back to the drawing she was watching with Jay, so your state of panic hadn't had much effect on her. Unlike Heeseung, who walked in quick, hurried steps to the kitchen to chase after you.

The search for the wine was tireless. That bottle had run out a while ago and all you had to do was find another that your mother kept right there, but no. Those hands stopped you from opening it. Those hands stopped you from opening the mini cellar under the counter and made you turn to him.

"Wine won't help you much" Heeseung whispered to you.

"I just need to… I…"

"You need to sober up because I think we need to talk, don't you?"

Why did he have to whisper everything? And why did Heeseung have a relentless habit of leaning towards you every time he stood in front of you to say something?

"It's okay" was the only thing you managed to say because the next second his lips were on yours. Briefly, a kiss so quick that you couldn't even process the softness of Heeseung's mouth against yours.

"Great choice of wine, by the way" he licked his lips before leaving the kitchen, just as quickly as he came in after you.

Heeseung was right, you two needed to talk. You were just putting it off all day because you felt like a complete idiot, thinking all sorts of bad things about him and your friends when, in fact, Aimi was just a child. And Heeseung's daughter.

All right, he also felt stupid for never mentioning it since the first time you and he started to get even closer, but the real thing was that he was afraid. He didn't want it to always be the same.

You swore that every moment at your parents' house would lead to a conversation with Heeseung because he never took his eyes off you, only to look in on Aimi or help her with something when no adult was doing so. He was such a helpful father and that only made your heart swell even more for that man.

Your mind just didn't process the fact that little Aimi would be clinging to you the moment everyone sat down to lunch.

"Sweetie, let y/n eat…"

"Dad" she pouted as she sat on your lap, smoothing her long hair so that it didn't fall on the plate in front of her.

"It's okay, I think I can help you, can't I, Aimi?"

"Yes" she turned her head to look at you, and that smile like her father's made you smile too.

Aimi was polite, only asked for your help to cut things she had difficulty with, and ate her vegetables without complaining while Heeseung just watched until she finished eating so she could get off your lap. So you could eat right then.

You noticed that Aimi sulked throughout lunch while the others ate until they finished their meal and she held out her arms to you.

"I thought we were going to watch a cartoon" Jay pouted when he saw that Aimi hadn't gone to sit on his lap.

"Actually, uncle Jay thought he'd get away with doing the dishes" you pretended to whisper to Aimi, hearing her giggle immediately afterward "But I think she'd rather stay with auntie y/n now, wouldn't you?"

When she nodded, it was enough for Jay to make a scene in which Aimi laughed even more.

Spending the afternoon with that child was the most incredible thing that could have happened to you over the last few days.

Watching cartoons with Aimi, hearing about colors and how she could count to forty. Or how she knew about animals because uncle Jay had given her a book that made sounds with a magic pen. And he bragged about the compliments in the present.

You felt your heart warm even more when everyone decided to spend time in the back garden, your lap serving as comfort for Aimi who played with the end of your hair until Heeseung signaled that she had fallen asleep on your lap. You didn't mind. She didn't weigh anything, she was cuddling you so comfortably and her little body was sleeping so nonchalantly that you just held her there and paid attention to Heejin's words, who was telling you about something at work.

Your eyes caught Heeseung's from time to time, and he couldn't help smiling as he looked at you and then at Aimi. Your daughter had liked you and that made Heeseung feel better, maybe the fear had passed and he could talk to you.

"Hey, y/n" Heeseung whispered close to your ear. You did everything you could not to move abruptly and not wake Aimi on your lap, so you just looked at him, noticing that his attention was everywhere but on what was happening in front of him.

Now it was your father who was talking about something you and your brother had done during a family vacation. Heejin laughed, asking something and you simply decided to pay attention to the man next to you.

"I can take her inside, I think I'll put her on the sofa because it's getting cold and your arms will go numb afterward" he kept whispering, making you laugh.

"I'll help you" you also whispered, settling Aimi in your arms and getting up with her still on your lap.

This was quite common, considering that Jay was always the one to take Aimi when Heeseung went to family lunches. But now you were there, placing Aimi on the three-seater sofa, wrapping her in cushions, and taking the blanket from Heeseung's hands to cover her carefully.

"She's beautiful" your voice came out so low, the compliment was so natural that you only noticed when Heeseung leaned his shoulder against yours and let out a low laugh.

"I think I did a good job" you laughed along with him, looking away from the little girl to the boy next to you "Do you have some time for me now?"

"Of course."

It couldn't be put off any longer, you knew he wanted to talk too so maybe it was time since everyone was talking outside and Aimi had gone to sleep. It was just you and Heeseung on the other side of the room so as not to wake the little one.

Being on the smaller sofa had never been a problem, but the proximity to him was what was making you apprehensive. Their legs touching each other, Heeseung's hands searching for something to hold, opting to leave it on his knees as he looked across the room. He looked at his daughter.

"It happened in the famous cliché of the first one-night stand in university" he moistened his lips and laughed humorlessly, then looked at you and bit his lower lip "Aimi's mother didn't want to keep her."

"What?" your eyes widened at that. You noticed that he sighed, perhaps he was about to tell you something difficult, so your instinct was to take one of his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers and showing that you were right there. Next to him, listening very carefully.

He sighed, taking a little more courage.

Heeseung and Jay had met and it wasn't by chance, they had been assigned roommates in university as soon as Heeseung had been admitted to his course. He and the boys have been inseparable ever since.

Like any university party, which you knew your brother was part of, Heeseung also liked to have fun like any other adult who had just been admitted and wanted to enjoy his youth. But irresponsibility got to him.

Unprotected and fruitless sex only happened in the movies his sister watched, because it wasn't like that with him. Months later, the news that the girl was pregnant devastated him and he wasn't sure what to do, but he thought that they could take care of the baby and that he would be there to help her.

That's not what happened. Heeseung lived on threats all that time.

I don't want to keep this baby unless you stay with me.

It was cruel, she was cruel to Heeseung. But what could he do? That woman was carrying his baby and he could only try to do everything to please her until the child was born. Aimi was beautiful from the first minutes of her life and was the joy of the Lee family.

"I think we should break up" that sentence made Heeseung sigh with relief, he knew it wouldn't last in a relationship that he had sustained only for the sake of the child.

Agreeing was the only right thing to do. But he also didn't know that she would give up any contact with the little girl, literally taking away any responsibility, walking out and never getting involved in the little girl's life since birth.

"The guardianship is completely yours, and she will never go near my niece again" Heejin had done everything since the second she found out she was going to be an aunt, and she had done everything could to make sure that woman would never go near Aimi.

Almost three years passed and he thought it would be difficult, but no. Heeseung was a father – solo – but he had such an immense support network, like his friends, his family, and Jay's family. Aimi didn't miss a mother figure in the slightest because she was surrounded by the love he always knew she never lacked.

Heeseung's fear revolved around any relationship that wouldn't accept his daughter, or that the child's mother would somehow resurface trying to give up something she never had a right to just because he was moving on with his life.

"I don't think you need to worry about that" you said in a low tone, letting him breathe a little after telling most – or almost all – of the story, "Heejin made it very clear and you know how much weight her words carry."

Heeseung laughed.

He clasped his hands even tighter in yours, tilting his head to rest his forehead against yours too.

"Believe me, over the years I've tried to get into relationships and one of them said that I spent more time with Aimi than with her."

"What—" you moved away for a few seconds, just long enough to face Heeseung, and then returned to your starting position, leaning your forehead against his "I think the danger now is that I'll be spending more time with her than with you."

"Will I be double-changed?" false indignation in his voice and Heeseung's hands loosened from his for a brief moment. You would have protested at the loss of contact if it hadn't been for his fingers slowly trailing up your cheek "If that's the case, I'll take it just fine."

"Then start thinking about it, Lee Heeseung."

"I'm thinking, Park Y/n" and then his lips met yours halfway.

A slow kiss and the perfect movement of each other's lips in such calm synchronicity. It was as if they both needed it as their tongues moved slowly, tasting the drink from hours ago and how Heeseung's warm muscle curled into yours. Your hands met his on his face, deepening the kiss even more and letting out a sigh when he slid down the sofa to be even closer to you.

That kiss was on another level, you felt like you were in paradise while Heeseung's lips were still on yours.

He slid his mouth along your jaw and down to your neck, small kisses left on your skin making you shiver completely until they were interrupted by a whimper.

You and Heeseung separated very slowly, both of you looking at the other sofa and noticing that Aimi was starting to cry quietly as she stood up, scratching at her eyes and with her hair completely messed up.

Heeseung got up from the sofa where the two of you were, walked over to his daughter, and bent down in front of her.

"Hi my love, did you have a bad dream?" he asked her, the little girl's eyes going to her father and they were completely watery. She held out her arms for him to take her, and so Heeseung did. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked back, with no reply. Aimi still had a pout on her lips and her eyes were almost streaming with the tears she was holding back.

That was enough for you to pout at the scene in front of you, holding back a scream as Aimi looked at you and her eyes lit up.

Her little arms went out towards you so excitedly that she almost threw herself off Heeseung's lap. You quickly got up from the sofa and picked her up, kissing her on the top of the head before making her lie on your shoulder.

"Sweetie?" Heeseung called out after she had snuggled into your lap.

"I want y/n" she said sleepily, yawning as she lay on your shoulder and practically falling back asleep within seconds.

You and Heeseung looked at each other, holding back a laugh as the little one went back to dreamland after being snuggled in your arms. He approached the two of you, kissing Aimi's cheek and then kissing your forehead before placing his own against it. Faces close together.

"I think I'm getting your daughter for myself" you hummed, kissing his lips in the process.

Heeseung laughed, nodding in denial as you moved away to go to the larger sofa in the living room.

He wanted to deny it and play with you, but seeing Aimi on your lap and that scene in front of him, all the fear Heeseung had was gone for sure.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #lee heeseung fluff #enhypen masterlist #enhypen x reader #heeseung fanfics #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #enhypen imagines #bay writes.

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simpee9000 · 3 months ago

Text

Not Just Friends - 6 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : 5.5k words

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

"Photos have been released, of the two of you," you shared a look with Katsuki from across the table, "Together. At the camping resort you went to this previous weekend."

Katsuki's PR manager was in front of you. Arms placed on the table as she clasped her hands together. Face stern and hair slicked back into a ponytail. The definition of professional. The opposite of what you looked and felt right now. You've been sweating your ass off since you got told to come in.

"Are you sure they know it was us?" Katsuki fixed his posture, sitting up straight for the answer to his question. The two of you haven't necessarily came forward with your relationship, but you haven't been hiding it. Still, you preferred to not be public. Mainly to protect your work, everyone would discredit you if they knew you had personal ties to the number two pro hero that led beyond friendship. But also because you knew the danger, you were targeted enough as his best friend.

"Yes," she said bluntly.

"Maybe they didn't see me?" you voiced your hope aloud.

"Look, they know it was the both of you," she sighed, "We need to focus on how to fix this. It needs to be address before it gets worse, and it will get worse, so I suggest acting now."

"Can I see the fucking pictures?" Katsuki ordered, sick and tired of not knowing entirely what's going on.

She clicked away at her keyboard, turning her laptop to face you two. "This was posted by a couple that were there," she showed the photo Katsuki took with the couple that almost caught you at the pond. "And this," she clicked to a photo that showed the lake, "was posted as well. You can clearly see Chargebolt, Red Riot, and Cellophane. And in the background it is also easy to see the two of you being," she coughed, "intimate. They've been able to connect the dots that it was you that he was kissing," she looked at you, "With your connection with their class."

Your stomach dropped. Words just fell from your brain. You were used to the press but not for these reasons. Mainly just for your work, or how you made all number one, two and three top heros support gear and costumes.

"So what the fuck should we do?" Katsuki crossed his arms, face scrunched in thought.

"We need you to make a statement," she paused, prepared for Katsuki to snap. He hated making statements. When all he did was nod, she continued, "We need to do this quick before rumors catch wind." Both you and her were glad that he wasn't being difficult about this.

"What rumors can even be made?" you were curious how bad the drawback could be, trying to see if you could lessen the stress for you and Katsuki.

She looked at you, an apology on her face already, "It is already being said that you are using him to get to Deku, wanting to get the best pro heroes under you." You physically winced. "It is also being said you are cheating on Deku with Dynamight."

Katsuki scoffed, rooling his his eyes as he threw his hands up, "So what the fuck do I say? This is bullshit."

"I've arranged a interview for tonight, they'll ask about it there and you will give as much truth as you want. Talk about how long you've dated and the bond you two have, you need a united front," She explained, "Deku needs to also make a statement that you have not had any romantic relations," she turned to you.

"Of course, I'll call him now," you stood up from your chair, grabbing your phone. Knowing that he was terrible with emails and likely wouldn't notice anything happened until it was too late for the press. Too focus on crime and other heroic things.

"Good, tell him to do it as soon as possible," she instructed.

You squeezed Katsuki's shoulder on your way out, leaving him to discuss about what to talk about in the interview.

Dialing Izuku's number the second you closed the door, walking towards the stairway so you could walk off the stress as you made your way to Katsuki's office, the next floor up.

He answered when you opened the door to the stairway, "Whatssup?"

"I need a favor," you immediately started with.

"What's wrong," he asked concerned. You could hear the wind blowing through his phone, he was likely jumping his way back his office.

"Could you do an interview tonight or something?" you walked up the stairs while talking to him, letting your body move on autopilot and lead the way to Katsuki's office.

"For what?"

"Katsuki's and my relationship got leaked, picture proof and everything," you confessed, "Now there's rumors that I'm cheating on you or some shit." You ran the hand that wasn't holding the phone through your hair. Before dropping it to open the stairway door, keeping your head down as you walked through the office.

"So I need to clear the air?" he concluded, you could hear him land on a building, taking a break from jumping.

"Yes, please," you sighed, "Just talk about how we're best friends. I don't think you have to do an interview, I think a social post might help, ask your manager."

"Of course, I'm happy to help," he smiled, "How are you and Kacchan doing?"

"I'm a little rattled, I didn't think this would happen," you opened the door to Katsuki's office, briefly waving to his manager. "I don't know how Katsuki is doing, he's still with his PR manager."

Izuku laughed nervously, "He's going to kill me."

"It's not your fault," you reassured, "he knows how crazy the internet is." You stood in front of the window, it was a floor to ceiling window that captured the view of the city perfectly. "Uraraka won't be mad right?" you asked, you've never been close to her but you knew her and Z were together.

"No, she'll understand," Izuku confirmed.

"Good, I would of felt horrible," the weight on your shoulders was slowly lifting.

"Well, I should talk to my manager about what to do," Izuku said his goodbyes before he hung up.

It was only Tuesday and your week was already shit. Barely got through lunch before his manager told you to meet with PR. The city was still buzzing with life, unbothered by how much yours was changing. It felt weird, to know each of the small humans from this distant, had their own life and motivation.

"Hey."

You jumped from your spot near the window, "Asshat," you said clutching your heart.

"How are you doing?" Katsuki stepped into the office, letting the door fall shut as he walked to stand beside you.

"I've been better, you?" you looked at him, his face was still scrunched with thought.

"I'm annoyed," he said plainly, "The one fucking time we kiss in public and it's everywhere."

He crossed his arms, his elbow slightly bumping you from where he stood. You hummed your agreement, "When's your interview?" The both of you were looking out the window, trying to puzzle together how to avoid the drawback.

"Right after work, with fucking Heroes' Gossip," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, knowing how much he hated every part of this.

"Was gonna happen eventually," he sighed, "Is that nerd gonna help?"

You nodded, "Yeah, he might make a social media post or something, I told him to listen to his manager."

"Good," he said plainly, letting the conversation end.

Everything was going to change now, it'd be impossible to go back to normal now. With the grief of your old life already setting in, you rested your head on his shoulder. He'd be the one stable thing, even if it got rocky.

---

You had the interview pulled up on the TV, waiting for Heroes' Gossip to introduce him. They've been teasing a surprise guest the entire show, waiting until the last few minutes to bring him on. You've been dealing with the show for the past 40 minutes with no sign of him. It was nice to watch for once though, but it felt like you were intruding on some of the topics. They brought up Mirko's lovers and then talked about spotting Best Jeanist in and out of the hospital, automatically assuming he had a horrible disease. It made you feel gross to watch.

Wondering into the kitchen you grabbed a glass of wine, wanting something to help make the show a little less painful.

When you sat back down they finally announced for Katsuki to come on. Having him grumpily stomp on set until he sat down near the obnoxious interviewer.

"So, Dynamight," she addressed him head on, "There's been some photo's leaked of you and the tech genius," she announced your name to the world. You took a long sip, trying to shake the unease feeling for being known as someone who was with Dynamight rather than a tech genius. The interviewer displayed the pictures his PR manager showed you earlier on screen, "Is this you and her?"

"Yeah," he answered flatly.

"So you and her were making out at this lake, correct?" She pushed, surprised she got this far already.

"Yeah, what about it?" you could see that he was close to snapping, face furrowed entirely as his arms were crossed.

"Despite the claims of her and pro hero Deku being together?" the interviewer smiled, glad to see she was riling him up.

He rolled her eyes, "As if she'd date him."

"Is she not?"

"No, I've been dating her for three god damn years," he confessed to the public.

The interviewer blinked in surprise, quickly getting back onto the questions, "You're not concerned they are seeing each other behind your back?"

"I've known them both since I was five, they aren't like that," he answered simply.

"That also means that they have known each other that long, you're not worried about their connection?" she pushed for more, irritated that Katsuki wasn't lashing out like normal.

"Lemme prove it to you dumbasses," you cringed at his swearing, it wasn't good press for him to swear during interviews. He was grabbing his phone out of his pocket, quickly pressing buttons before he put the phone on speaker, letting everyone listen to it ring.

"Hey," Izuku's bubbly voice echoed through the mic.

"Are you fucking with my girlfriend?" Katsuki was straight to the point, likely not having warned Izuku of his plan before hand.

"No! Why would i do that?! You know that it is just the press going on right? Anything for a story-" before he could ramble on anymore, Katsuki hung up on him.

"See?"

"Well that doesn't prove much," the interviewer was at a lost for words at this point.

Knowing that Katsuki had a handle on this, you walked back to the kitchen, looking for something to eat. All the premade dinners were eaten already so you'd have to cook something from scratch. The voices from the TV faded from your mind as your rattled through the ingredients to use. Deciding on a fried rice. You pulled out the vegetables and placed them to the side as you set the rice to cook.

Your phone buzz and you answered without a thought, "Sup?"

"You fucking Deku?" you laughed at Katsuki's angry voice coming through your speaker. "Stop laughing dumbass."

"Sorry, I just saw you call him for the same thing. No, I am not. I'll say that on a truth quirk as well," you said absentmindedly cutting up the vegetables.

"Great! We'll have you come in soon to do just that," you heard the interviewer cheer though Katsuki's side of the phone.

Katsuki grumbled, "I'm fucking out of here." You could only assume he left the set, hearing him stomp off. "Hey dumbass," his voice was near the mic, clear he turned the call off speaker as his voice was quieter and less aggressive.

"Yeah?"

"That was stupid, my PR agent is going to scream at you."

"Why?"

"Going under a truth quirk on TV is dangerous, you know so much confidental shit," he explained.

"Oh fuck," you realized how much you could spill if someone asked about too much. You felt as if the genius quirk you had wasn't much help.

"I'll be home soon," he skipped past it, saving the conversation for when he could see you.

"Okay," you nodded despite him not being able to see you, "I'm making some fried rice by the way."

"Thanks, see ya."

"Bye."

You put your phone back down, grabbing the now cooked rice and mixing it with the vegetables in a pan. You looked over the mess of the kitchen. You dirtied an extra pan for eggs last second, knowing Katsuki loved the extra protein. Walking back to the living room, you grabbed the wine glass and filed it some more in the kitchen to drink as you mixed the rice.

The rice was getting to a good mixture, just needing to heat for a little longer, you grabbed the eggs and dumped them in with the rest of the rice and vegetable, setting the pan aside on the stove.

You heard the door knob slightly move, as if Katsuki was having issues with the key. You glanced at the time, he wouldn't be over for another ten or so minutes. Fear gripped at your chest. You moved the finished pan of rice to the corner of the stove, putting the empty pan on the heat.

Before you could think of anything else to do, you heard metal fall to the ground. Turning around quickly you saw the doorknob melting off with the remains of it on the floor.

Looking towards the figure in the doorway you saw a girl, around your age. Maybe a couple years older. She looked insane, it sent a chill up your spine at how similar her glare was to Toga's. Her eyes were a bright red, her hair a darker shade as she wore torn up clothes, burn holes all throughout. As if she just got out of a fight.

"The fuck are you doing?" you forced yourself to question.

"So you're the bitch Katsuki is dating?" she ignored your question.

"How did you get up here?" you knew that the apartment probably wasn't the most secure, but you and Katsuki never had time to move. Still, security was set in place. Blood dotted her outfit as well, the smell of burnt flesh radiating off her.

She ignored you again, stepping closer. "You know, Katsuki's going to love me right? Once your out of the picture."

You couldn't help the slight laugh that slipped from your lips. Maybe Katsuki's cocky energy affected you more than you thought.

Her eyes glowed, "That funny to you?"

She was about arms length away at this point, you reached your arm slowly behind you, grabbing onto the handle of the pan. "Kinda," you shrugged.

"Such a cunt," the girl all but screeched, eyes glowing red. From the damage on the doorknob it was clear she had some sort of heat vision. Before she could burn hole through you, you picked up the pan and swung at her. Burning the side of her face and causing her to stumble. Keeping yourself aware of her eyes, you reeled the pan back and hit her straight on, letting the edge of the pan fall into her eyes.

She quickly started to grab at you, cornering you into the stove, blinded by your hits but still intent on hurting you. Digging her nails into your arm. Scratching as she managed to grab ahold of your hand during her flailing around, forcing it down onto the hot stove and burning you.

Filled with a new rush of adrenalin, you grabbed onto her hair with your free hand, yanking her off your hand and pushing her face into the stove. You felt horrible as she screamed, your and her burnt flesh tainting the air with a foul smell. Ruining the stove top in the process. You scrambled away from her after holding her down for a moment, grabbing the knife you used the the vegetables only 20 minutes ago. Almost slipping due to the wine that was spilt from her flailing around the stove.

You stole a glance at the clock, still five more minutes till Katsuki was home. All you had to do was not die in those five minutes.

The girl was standing back up when you looked back at her. Face half burnt as she held a crazed look in her eyes.

"That knife won't do anything," she pushed, "I've done my research, you hardly have a quirk. Another reason you aren't worthy of him."

You weren't interested in talking to her, you just waiting for her next move. "You know, we could end this here. Just stop fighting and Katsuki will talk to you," you suggested, throwing the offer out to distract her.

"With you in the picture, he won't talk to me," she said frustratedly. Her eyes lighting up again, having recovered from the hit to them.

She aimed for your stomach, you move to the side and crouched, kicking at her locked knees, cringing at the snap of it. The hit on your stomach burned through a lot, the pain causing you to hold a hand on yourself. While you were trained to survive, you couldn't handle it. The blood, the pain, the guilt that already worked its way into your bones. She fell down with a yelp. Pulling you with her, before she could get her other hand on you, you stabbed one hand through a cabinet. You stood up as straight as possible, pressing your slipper covered foot onto her head, forcing her to face the cabinet and away from you. Placing your other foot onto her free hand so she couldn't grab at you.

You wheezed, clutching both hands at your side now, pain getting to you. The girl was crying now, "My face! He won't love me if I look deformed." Her heat vision flickered on and off, burning a hole through the bottom cabinet. Slowly destroying your home with Katsuki.

"Shut up," you hissed, stepping on her hand harder.

The injury was getting to you, it was mostly cauterized but her heat vision burned a good depth into your side.

Katsuki kicked the door fully open, snapping his head to look at you. You most of looked crazy. Wearing his shirt from high school, barely visible shorts, fuzzy Deku themed slippers and standing above a very injured girl while bleeding from the wound of your side.

He stepped towards you, lifting you off the girl and making you sit on the floor next to the door. "Cops were already called by the way," he answered your question before you thought of it. "They'll be up here soon." He walked back to the girl who was panting now, going into shock from the pain, something you think you shared with her. He cuffed her quickly, making her quirk shut off. You couldn't be more thankful that he wore his hero outfit home.

With the girl contained, he walked back to you, "Is it just your side?"

You nodded your head aggressively, in too much pain to form words. He lifted the side of your shirt, wincing before putting it back down. Moving to pick you up and carry you.

"I need to get you to the hospital," he claim.

"What about that girl?" you forced out, sucking in a deep breath after. Eyes getting fuzzy as you looked at him.

"She tired herself out," he confirmed, the girl passed out and you felt like doing the same. Eyes blinking without any of your control.

"Kats?"

"What?"

"It hurts," you were only speaking to stay awake, not wanting to scare him anymore then you knew he was.

"You'll be okay, I promise," his voice waivered as he moved through the hallways, you didn't even know where you were at this point. The background slowly turning into black until you blinked the rest of the image away.

---

Everything was too bright, too loud, too stale when you woke up. You couldn't even open your eyes but you were overwhelmed. You're mouth lacked any taste besides meticalic. Muffled voices came from somewhere in front of you, a room away likely. You braced yourself heavily before opening your eyes. Seeing Katsuki in a chair pulled up to your bedside, book in his left hand as his right hand held onto yours. Flipping a page by placing the book into his lap and using his left to flip it. Never once letting go.

The light blurred everything but him, you could only put together the fact that you were in the hospital. He was wearing his glasses, the ones he hardly wore unless he was stress. It was always harder for him to read when stressed, to lessen the strain, he wore the glasses.

"Bright," is what you decided to croak out, voice rough from sleep and likely screaming from the events. Everything was blurred already.

His basically jumped out of skin at the sound of your voice, letting the book fall from his lap as he stood up straight. Looking over you.

"Lights off," is what you groaned next, unable to keep your eyes open in the blare of it for long.

"Fuck sorry," he rushed to turn the light off before returning to your side. "How are you?"

You only looked around now, happy to be without the strain of the light. Your right hand was covered in bandages, from where the girl slammed it against the stove. With how bad it hurt, you worried for her face. Your left side was also heavily wrapped. She burned entirely through you, you remember how burned your walls were before you passed out. Multiple cabinets having holes in them. "Our home is all messed up," you focused on.

Katsuki let out a laugh, it was his laugh that showed you were being ridiculous, when you looked back up at him with a frown he returned it, "You can't be serious?"

"I am," you pouted, looking down at your hands, "She fucked it all up."

"Yeah and you put a dent in her for it," he followed.

"She put a dent in me too," you changed you focus to your stomach. Acknowledging the hole in your side

He gripped tighter onto the railing at the top of your hospital bed. "I had our stuff moved out," he spoke, saying he won't let that happened again without any words.

"Where will we live?" you looked back up at him.

"I bought it on a whim, the first day you were out," he looked apologetic, "I think you'll like it. Safer than that shithole."

You grabbed onto his hand, "Okay, anywhere is home with you."

"The drugs makin' ya loopy?" he smirk down at you, pointing fun at your cheesy line but holding onto your hand nonetheless, gripping on tighter.

"Maybe," you blushed, looking away for moment to think over the feeling. Drugs were definitely dampening the pain right now.

"How are you though? Took quite a hit," he looked at your stomach as well. It reminded you on how he first saw it, likely seeing straight through you. It's probably why he rushed you to the hospital right after.

"Hurts," you mumbled, not looking down but staring at him instead. Wanting your focus off the pain. Looking over how soft the glasses made him look. It was something you always wanted to admire but rarely got to. His face looked softer in the barely light room, just having the glow of the hallway lights shine in.

"Figures, you put up a fight."

"I almost died," you clarified.

"But you didn't," he was trying to focus on the positives, for both you and himself.

You recalled him saying the first day you were out earlier, "How long was I out?"

"Four days," he answered, "Not too long, you were just tired."

You hummed, "When can we go home?"

"I'd have to call the doctor in."

You nodded in permission for him to do so, letting him go alert them. With the quality of the room, you figured that he had you in a hero hospital.

The doctor walked in and asked you to stay an extra day, claiming a healing quirk will be able to help you before you left tomorrow. You reluctantly agreed, mainly from Katsuki cutting in and agreeing for you. It was obvious he felt guilt. From the way he held himself and the way he spoke.

When the doctor left, the two of you sat in silence. Soaking in each others presences.

"Is she okay?" you asked.

"Who?"

"Crazy bitch," you labeled her as.

He looked at you confused, "Yeah, in jail."

"So I didn't hurt her badly?" you were trying to relive some of the guilt.

"No, you did. Put a hole into her hand and burned her face," he confirmed, "Something you did to protect yourself."

"Then why do I feel bad?"

He sighed, grabbing at your hand again and looking you in your eyes, "Cause you always do, you'll probably feel guilty for a while. But trust me, you gave that bitch what she deserved and I'm so fuckin' glad you did."

"How's the press?" you switched topics. Not even remotely proud of yourself for burning a girl's face.

"Everything's settled, police still need your report though," he told you softly.

"Okay," you took in a deep breath, flinching at the pain going up your side. Ignoring Katsuki eyes looking at you in worry. Trying to patch your guilt away.

---

You peered through the apartment door after Katsuki unlocked it and walked through. Taking in the view of the apartment, a clear upgrade from the last. After kicking off your shoes you noticed the empty space to the right, a perfect spot for a living room. Windows from floor to ceiling and a sliding door to excess the balcony, with just enough space for a long wrap around couch to loop around. Snug in its own cube. The left side was a nicely sized kitchen with a dining table near the middle.

The security on the way up was worth the apartment, it was beautiful. It was a good sized apartment overall, perfect for you. There's a total of three bedrooms and three baths. You wondered for a moment about where Katsuki would choose his bedroom. Shoto also lived in this apartment complex, so you knew it was safe. The thought of Shoto's scar hurt your soul, he hated that scare and you gave a random girl the same if not worse.

"We need to buy new furniture for the living room," Katsuki cut into your thoughts.

"Why?" you turned to him confused, you didn't have a wrap around couch but he didn't know your ideas.

He coughed, knowing you hated the topic already, " Other one is burnt."

"Oh," you said sadly.

"I also can't get shit here until Tuesday. Takes a week for em," he barreled through the bad news, "You can look up a couch and I'll buy it."

"I already know the one I want," you looked back at the space, "I saw it Monday online, we can go check the stores to see if it's in stock? If not we can look."

"I don't think you should be doing all that walkin'," he furrowed his face in distaste.

"Too bad," you pushed past your injury, walking back outside the apartment after slipping your shoes on, "We have nowhere to sleep, we can get a couch and have a movie night. Wait, do we need a new TV?"

"Yeah, other one was shit anyway," he put his shoes on and followed you out reluctantly.

---

You pushed past all press, keeping your head down as you walked in front of Katsuki, his arms around you to keep from touching you. It was horrible, worse than it ever was. After your police statement was in, the press went crazy. Needing every detail possible. The entire furniture store had to shut down while you shopped, it made you thankful for Katsuki's job for once. He saved the owners before so they easily shut down for him. Finding your perfect couch was easy enough, wasn't the exact one you saw online but it was even better. While you found the couch, Katsuki got the TV, both set to be delivered to your apartment during the next three hours.

So you and Katsuki got lunch and stopped by his agency in the mean time, him needing to grab some paper work to go over the next few days. Kirishima's bright smile welcoming you the second you walked upstairs.

"Hey!" he greeted, arms stretched out for you. Hugging you gently. "How are you?" he held you back by your shoulders as he looked over you.

"Alright," you answered watching Katsuki walk into his office, "I hurt like a bitch though."

Kirishima laughed warmly, "No doubt, sorry that happened. What you did was super manly though."

You cringed, "I thought you left the manly thing in high school."

"I say it on rare occasions," he smiled down at you.

"Say what?" Katsuki asked as he closed his office behind him, joining you again.

"Manly," you answered, leaning into his space, feeling safe. He hummed in reply, smiling down at you briefly before looking back at Kirishima, crossing him arms.

"You got my patrols cover till Tuesday right?" Katsuki asked.

"Yeah, Denki, Sero, Mina, me and even Midoriya are all taking a chunk of your hours," Kirishima smiled brightly.

"Till Thursday?" you looked up confused, Katsuki hated time off.

Katsuki refused to look at you. LIstening as Kirishima talked, "You need a break and we got it covered, don't worry."

He rolled his eyes, "Send me every detail that happens, I'll be available if absolutely needed."

"Got it," Kirishima gave a toothy grin. Likely happy that he convince Katsuki to take time off in general. You weren't surprised at him being at the hospital, but taking a week off was unknown for him. Yet he seemed perfectly okay with it.

---

Once home, you noticed the fridge was fully stocked. Katsuki's premade meals filling the shelfs. Glad to see no fried rice. Fruit also filling the shelfs.

It was the first thing you went for when you got home, ignoring the wrapped up couch and TV and going for the food. Afterall, Katsuki would set up the TV fully. Needing to wall mount it.

With a premade meal in your hands, warm and ready to eat, you stood at the counter and watched him work.

"So I remember saying I'd do an interview with a truth quirk," you brought up after a while, Katsuki humming to continue from where we set up the TV. "How do I do that without giving up information?"

"Aizawa is probably willing to help, he'll monitor you and turn off the truth quirk person if they ask something sensitive. Still don't know why you said that," he answered, cursing at the TV when it didn't hook into the slot on the wall mount easily.

"Just want to clear my name," you took another bite of food as you watched him grin in victory at the TV being attached to the wall now. Him plugging it in and starting to log into all the streaming apps and everything.

You joined him after finishing your food, pushing a part of the couch into the spot you wanted. "The fuck are you doin?" he spun his head towards you at the sound of the couch moving. "I'll do it, just fuckin' point where to go."

After huffing at him, you stood in front of the TV, facing the couch and leading him to place each section of the couch. Cutting off the wrapping afterwards and sitting in front of the TV.

"What are we watching?" he called towards you, you were digging through the little amount of stuff that Katsuki pack for you two. It was clothes and blankets, all you'd need until Tuesday. It was already Saturday as well.

You plopped down a big blanket for you to share and sunk into the couch, "I don't know," you mumbled. Watching as he clicked onto your favorite movie right after.

"Hate when you say that," he grumbled.

"Yeah sure," you leaned into his side, wanting to be as close as possible to him. The scare of the break in still getting to you. He messed with his hand for a moment before laying his arm over your shoulders, pushing you closer to him. It was something both of you clearly needed. Just the warmth of the other.

-Next Part-

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januaryembrs · 3 months ago

Text

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME? | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [10]

description: the one with Cat Adams + the one where she tells him.

length: 13k

warnings: literally just watch 11x11, mention of vomit, blood, alcoholism. mention of pregnant wives??

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

‘who’s afraid of little old me?

you should be,’

She remembered when she was little when she would wake up so early even the birds hadn’t uttered a morning chirp, her stomach grumbling because she usually hated the fancy stuff they had for dinner and ended up leaving it on her plate. She remembered thinking her mother would be no use, that Elizabeth would tell her to go straight back to bed, even if she whined and cried that she wanted breakfast, remembered thinking Louise, the au pair that usually took the morning shift, wouldn’t be in for another hour or so, and she certainly wasn’t tall enough to reach the cabinets yet.

Which left her with Emily.

Nineteen year old Emily, who was already in and out of the house with college, her hair a box dyed black, singed from all the crimping and hair spray. Emily, who liked to take her to the park even if she pretended she was too old, who played Barbies with her and helped her cut all their hair off probably because she figured that was better than her constant urge to do whacky things with her own locks. Emily, who had never wanted a little sister really until Elizabeth had brought home the carrier and suddenly she had never loved ten chubby fingers and toes so much.

She remembered waking Emily up, usually by pulling herself up onto her sister’s Mötley Crüe themed bedding and prodding at the girl’s shoulder until she stirred, how Emily would lead her down the long, ornate hallway into the kitchen, when the only sound in the house would be their bare feet padding along the cold tiles. How Emily would yank two bowls out of the cupboard, tipping a generous dose of coco pops in each of them, back when they were full of sugar and real chocolate, not the healthy crap they sold nowadays.

It would just be the two of them at the breakfast table, crunching on their spoons, five year old Bugsy no doubt dribbling the brown milk down her chin and pyjama top, but she was happy. Because she had her big sister.

She stared down at the dregs of cocoa that whirled into the white milk as the cereal sat there longer, because she was only picking at it really, and it had nothing to do with the fact she was almost certain they had changed the recipe since she was little.

“I was thinking,” She said after a moment or so, while Spencer pottered around the kitchen, fixing them both a pot of coffee that she usually was usually bouncing over to grab at this point in the morning. Except today she felt sluggish, lost in that maze of thoughts that only Spencer could really unpick, and the second she’d started speaking his head whipped over the counter to where she idly stirred her breakfast, “About what you said when Gideon… We could probably afford to start looking at buying a house soon, what with the mortgage rates dropping,”

She looked up at him hopefully, hoping he couldn’t sense the hesitation on her breath because he usually knew what she was thinking before she said anything, and for once she wished he didn’t have that crazy ability to read her mind, only to see him with a small if not saddened smile.

When Gideon had passed, Spencer had gotten in his head that they needed to leave the apartment, that if the Jason Gideon could have been caught unaware, then they weren’t safe either. Of course he hadn’t meant it, at least not entirely, but Gideon passing had spun the logic half of his brain that spouted the statistics that they were no more in danger now than they were before he’d gone, but still it was something he’d been thinking about. A house meant more space; more space meant they could stop tripping over each other's laundry, meant they could get the bigger shower they’d always talked about, maybe even a tub. A house meant the garden he knew he always wanted Niko and Sergio to have now they were grey around the whiskers and couldn’t run so fast.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Spencer said, picking up their mugs of steaming hot goodness and carefully stepping towards her, gently sliding the drink over to her as the liquid sloshed and threatened to dip over the edge, “Is there any place you want to look?”

He left his own mug in favour of circling his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in for a soft hug, her head falling beneath his chin where she sat on the barstool.

Kissing her hairline gently, she heard him inhale her shampoo scent, and she plonked her spoon back in the bowl to wrap her arms around his waist, squeezing herself into every crevice that they weren’t already touching.

“I don’t care,” She said, tilting her head to look up at him with love sick eyes, only to see him already besottedly gazing at her, and she guessed by the way his lips draw up at the corners that he didn’t realise he was still smiling, “Anywhere with you is good enough for me,”

He looked down at her in that way he usually did, expression soft and sweet and entranced, but she saw the traces of worry in his gaze, “You feeling okay? Today is going to be… hard,”

Bugsy’s expression faltered slightly, and she turned away to push her face into his stomach so he wouldn’t see the doubt lingering in her eyes. She nodded anyway, even though she knew he would catch her in the lie.

After Scratch, Hotch had ordered her to take three months off for a psych evaluation, had granted Spencer at least a month of holiday to watch over her because he knew Reid’s head would be all over the place with worry if he’d returned to work without her. It was like asking Garcia to leave her computers and fluffy pens at home; it just wouldn’t work.

By the time she was cleared to come back, despite the recurring nightmares of that day still eating away at her sleep, Hotch had set her up to work solely from the office, strictly no field work.

He liked to think it was for her own safety, for her own good since he saw the way she pounded coffee like it was juice while Spencer lingered around her with a worried stare. But if he had to be honest with himself, Hotch couldn’t get away from the things Scratch had made him see just as much as she couldn’t. He couldn’t escape seeing her throat slit like she was a lamb for slaughter, the life leaving her eyes as she faded away. And it was the thought of her carotid artery spraying over his boots that made him want to lock her up in bubble wrap and never let her go.

But that was feasible in their job, not really. So desk duty it was.

“You don’t have to go with us into the field, you can always stay with Hotch and Garcia,” He offered, stroking her hair behind her ear and tempting her to look back up at him with gentle fingertips under her chin, and when she saw the unease in the muddy hues, she squeezed him tighter, knowing the past five months had been just as hard on him.

“No, I want to,” She protested gently, her hands weaselling under his shirt and onto the warm, soft skin of his back, pawing at him like a cat trying to settle. “If you’re being made this woman’s number one target, I want to be there on stand by,”

And he couldn’t really argue. Because no matter what frame of mind he was in, even if it had been him captured and tortured, he would never let her go out as bait and not be there breathing down her neck.

He sighed, the urge to protest stuck in his throat and all he could think to do was bring his lips to hers gently in a soft kiss, because his resistance to her being put in the line of danger would only be futile.

She hummed into the kiss, his hands skirting over her back and she swore she would be content if the rest of her life was spent in Spencer’s arms, in the warm mornings at their kitchen table just the two of them, and the idea of that last part spun her stomach into turmoil all over again.

What if he freaked out? No, scratch that, he was definitely going to freak out. Spencer hated change, hated having things dropped on him, and Diana was already getting worse with the symptoms of Alzheimers she had begun presenting. He had more than enough on his plate as it was, and she knew she was the only thing that could keep his head from exploding with the worry, even if she was sometimes the cause of it. He’s always been a worrier, and part of her despised herself for the fact that he had shot out of bed every single night she’d been in the midst of a night terror, when the room spun and Peter Lewis seemed so real and so close and she woke up screaming. Because she’d brought him enough stress and trouble, and now she had an extra helping of it dished up and ready.

It wasn’t one of those things she could keep to herself, not even if she so desperately wanted to sit on it and mull it over for a few months. She needed to tell him soon.

Spencer looked down at her eyes, the way they’d glazed over slightly, and he wished he could crawl into the space where her thoughts bounced between one another if it meant he could figure out what had gotten her so twisted up the past few weeks. She hadn’t been herself entirely since Scratch, but she had been getting better. She’d started getting more sleep, seemed less jumpy when they were in the quiet of their apartment, and part of him thought maybe that was why she wanted to look at houses. A fresh start. And yet overnight, she’d had this guilty look in her eye like she was suddenly a million miles away, and he hated it. Bugsy had never been distant, which seemed odd to think considering she was burying her hands and face into him like she had no intention of letting him leave. But there was something in the depths of her brilliantly big mind that seemed to hold her tongue for her.

He kissed her again, hoping it was all in his head, hoping she wouldn’t keep things from him because it was them and they always told each other everything. Even if it was gross and weird and inappropriate, everything.

And he thought maybe it was because he was going on a date with another woman, using himself as live bait to flirt and charm and seduce an assassin in order to take her into custody without fuss. Yeah, that was probably it. He couldn’t say he would be all too pleased if it had been the other way around and he would be watching her ravish another man even if it was just for the job.

That was definitely it. There couldn’t be anything else.

“You know I love you,” He said as a statement, yet she nodded as though it was a question, and he kissed her again because he’d regretted not doing it a hundred times a day the second he’d seen her in that closet, regretted not seeing the fact she was more than likely uncomfortable with her boyfriend of two years wining and dining a murderer. “Whatever I say when I’m there with her, you know I love you, more than I could ever love anything else,”

He seemed so sincere, his eyes turning into that soft puppy like frown, and it only served to drive the knife in deeper as she nodded, her hands wrapping into his hair and pulling him down to kiss her again, this time just a little harder like his lips could wipe away the pit in her stomach. Because it was Spencer, and she was lying by omission, and god did she need him to know how much she loved him before things went wrong and they changed and-

“We have a little time right?” She said, his hands taking the hint as they pulled her to her feet gently, cereal long forgotten in a chocolate slush, and his hands reached down to cup her ass in the way he was more than used to doing now. Didn’t stop him from blushing however.

“Y-yeah we have time,” He said, and she barely let him finish his sentence before she’d claimed his mouth again, not that he was complaining. She looped her fingers through his belt buckle, stepping backwards with his guidance towards their bedroom, and he hummed through a moan when he felt her run the other hand through his already messy bedhead, tugging on the ends of his curls gently.

“Good,” She responded, with a drop of that natural Bugsy cheekiness he was used to, and the sound of it made him smile. Maybe it was just the job after all, “I think I need a demonstration on just how much you don’t mean whatever you need to say to her,”

He smirked, because she was more like herself than she had been in days, and god was she pretty when she smiled at him before they had sex, like she knew what was coming, like she knew what she did to him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear his heart thumping in her ears just as clearly as he could.

“I think you’ll need multiple demonstrations,” He said, his fingers looping in between her buttons on her trousers and popping them apart softly because they’d done this before, rushed it so they weren’t late for work, and ended up ripping good jeans, “Gather multiple sets of data before you draw a conclusion,”

He kissed down her neck and her small laugh became a moan, “I think it’s pretty much the only way, Doctor Reid,”

He laughed, and she felt it against her pulse, the sound of it making her shiver as he shoved the door open with little remorse for the way it slammed into the wall. And she made a promise to herself that once they’d caught their UnSub, she would tell him, even if it meant all of this would change.

–

He arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, his suit steamed and neat, a single red rose in his hand. His skin was already crawling at the idea of flirting with another woman, but Spencer knew none of it was real, knew he was just doing his job. Still it didn’t diminish the desire to glance where Bugsy and Rossi were sat in a booth, because he’d seen her in that red dress a thousand times before, and yet it still made his jaw drop the second he saw her in it.

The brief had been black tie, something to fit in with the five star restaurant, and god had she delivered. He ought to have protested, told her that she was too distracting and maybe insisted she stayed in the office if she looked so striking, but then again she could have worn a bin bag for all he cared, he would still be fighting the urge to look over at her.

He chose the seat with Bugsy at his back as to eliminate his urge to stare at her, because Dave could keep her safe, the rest of his team could watch her, he had to trust that.

He lay the rose on the other side of the table, fiddling with the other parts of the cutlery to make sure everything looked perfect, even though in his mind he was thinking of all the things Bugsy would have been saying if she was his date tonight. She probably would have made a comment on his suit (she already had before they’d even stepped out the hotel, just as he’d given her arse a quick squeeze with cheeks even more crimson than her dress because she looked divine), probably would have offered to go to the in-and-out down the street instead because she never cared about splashing out on dates, just being with him was enough.

Adjusting his jacket a little, he waited, trying to keep his head far away from his girlfriend, although that was much easier said than done. He couldn’t remember what his brain was like before it was filled with thoughts of her.

The ring sat in his sock drawer, buried in one of his older pairs that he hoped she wouldn’t go after since he’d made the mistake of putting it in with his boxers and almost got caught within a day when she went to steal some ready for bed and he’d chided himself for the sloppy work. He knew he wanted to ask her, thought he might even bring her to a fancy place like this, maybe prepare a small speech that attempted to tell her how much she meant to him even though he knew there wasn’t enough words for such a thing. Would he hide it in the cake? No that would be cheesy, she found cheesy overdone. Would she even like it done in public? No, she would hate that, he would wait until they got home, maybe even try that thing she’d wanted to do in bed for a few weeks, and then when they were done-

“Spencer?” A woman appeared at the table, a woman who by all accounts was objectively pretty, yet he felt that small kick of victory when he recognised her from the FBI database.

Cat Adams. Assassin. Mastermind. UnSub.

“Cat?” He said with practised naivety, and this time he forced all thoughts of his loving girlfriend from his head like they were about to be tainted by the woman standing in front of him, “Hi,”

“Hi,” She replied, her grin too bright and sparkly for anyone to ever guess she was a killer though he supposed that was the point,

“Hello, it’s nice to finally-” He cut himself off when she leaned up to hug him, her face drawing closer to his suddenly and she looked like she was gearing up for a peck on the lips. Forward. Much more forward than he’d given her credit for, and his stomach flipped in discomfort as he leaned away, “Oh s-sorry, I have kind of a germ thing,” He excused, which wasn’t a total lie.

Also my girlfriend is sat ten feet away and I can already hear her clenching a fork ready to ball your eyes out like a melon, he wanted to say, though he kept his snark to himself.

“Oh, sorry,” Cat said, holding her hands up in surrender, and looking up at him with what he knew to be false innocence. But he played along, because the sooner they caught her, the sooner he could be done with the entire thing.

“I’m kinda weird with hugs,” He explained, his face boyish as he gestured her to take a seat, because at least then he could put some distance between them, “Please, sit down,”

She smiled dizzily, slipping her jacket off to reveal a blue dress that accentuated her pixie short hair, her collar bones that could cut glass, her small, sleek figure, and she adjusted her straps as an excuse to divert his attention to her breasts.

“That’s like the oldest trick in the book, get some new material, bitch,” Bugsy mumbled under her breath, drowning her venom in sparkling apple juice disguised as champagne from where they sat in a dark corner booth and Rossi chuckled, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t worry about boy genius having a wandering eye, kid. Reid is more devout than my mother on Easter Sunday,” He said, picking at the starter they’d ordered as a way to seem busy. She hummed, diverting her attention into her chicken salad, making sure she wasn’t looking at the happy couple for too long as they talked awkwardly, “Do you think you could take her?”

“I know I could take her,” Bugsy responded in a clipped tone, and Rossi sniggered, and they heard Tara and Derek do the same down their earpieces.

“It was a joke,” Cat said, to something they hadn’t quite caught, though by the looks of it they were still just making small talk, “A bad joke,”

“No, no, it was funny,” Spencer said reassuringly, and he chuckled, though Bugsy knew off the bat it was fake because she loved making him laugh and it sounded nothing like that. They fell into an awkward silence and she could hear Spencer scrambling for things to talk about because if she walked away their lead to the other assassin went right with her.

“Can we start over? Hi, I’m Cat,” The woman said, fixing her skirt with a shy smile. She certainly didn’t seem like a killer, Bugsy thought, where she glanced at her in her peripheral. She certainly was pretty, spritely even. A little too eager to kiss a guy she just met.

“Hi, I’m Spencer,” He replied, in that nervous tone he usually got when she flustered him.

“Is it true you have three PHDs?” Cat asked with, well, cat-like eyes flicking between sly and seductive, and Bugsy could see how any man who wasn’t as smart as her boyfriend would fall for the act.

“Yes, that’s true. I do have three PHDs,”

“What’s your favourite book you read last year?” She pressed and Bugsy sipped her juice to stop herself from answering for him.

“I’ve honestly never read a book I haven’t loved,” He said, deflecting the subject, while his girlfriend smirked into her almost empty plate.

Demons by Fydor Dostoevsky, she corrected to herself because she knew he’d gone back to it more than a handful of times.

“Tell me about your wife,” Cat went in for the kill, her timid smile morphing into something wicked as she watched Spencer squirm.

And the second she’d said it something had reared its ugly head inside him. Because try as hard as he might, all he could think about was Bugsy’s face and that damn ring.

“If you don’t mind, I’d er…” He cleared his throat, wondering why it was so difficult to get through a single conversation when they’d ran through the plan a million times. He knew she would ask, and yet all he could do was get defensive thinking about Cat damn Adams setting her hands on the woman he wanted desperately to marry, “I’d rather not talk about her,”

“Might as well get it out in the open right? I mean, it’s why we’re here,” She said smugly, like that innocent bounce in her step had wiped right away, revealing the murderess underneath, “How long have you been married?”

“Four years,” He lied, though he thought back to JJ’s wedding that same amount of time ago and how beautiful she looked in her dress and her cast and how he’d wished it was theirs.

“When is she due to give birth?” Cat’s eyes narrowed at the man, pushing her hair behind her ear in a playful manner.

Bugsy stopped, licking her lips and hoping Rossi wasn’t watching her as she finished off the last of her sparkling juice, raising a hand to a passing waiter to order a second round.

“You having another one, Grandpa?” She said innocently, despite the stink eye he gave her and nodding to the non-alcoholic beer he’d ordered.

“Watch yourself,” He said as the waiter retreated, and she snickered into her meal, “Grandpa will knock you on your ass,”

“You would never, Hotch would hate that kind of paperwork,” She said setting her cutlery on the side of her plate to signal she was done, “HR would have a field day,”

“I wanna hear you say it,” The line crackled in their ear as Bugsy’s drink arrived at the table, and she couldn’t help but think the woman’s seductive voice could easily pass for a call girl. She chanced a quick look over at their table, her heart rate spiking when she saw the woman all but eye fucking Spencer with a bit of her lip, like the thrill of the chase was half the fun for her, and Bugsy felt the disgust settle in her stomach.

“To have her killed,” Spence replied, and she looked away then, the bitterness settling on her bottom lip in a sneer. She didn’t think for one second that Spencer would think the woman was alluring, it didn’t make him flirting any easier to watch.

The UnSub smiled wryly, looking down at his arm, “Let me see your ring,”

Spencer froze, holding his hand out hesitantly, the feeling of the gold band entirely alien on his finger even though he was trying to get used to it for the sake of the case. Cat’s hand shot out like a snake striking, holding his ring in between her perfectly manicured fingers, her eyes roving over the jewel.

“You know what that is?” She said with contempt, shaking her head, “A noose, only it doesn't kill you all at once it kills you slowly, day by day,”

And he couldn’t have disagreed more, in fact the only thing that was killing him was the fact he had been dumb enough to wait so long to propose to the woman he loved more than life itself.

Spencer Reid, dumb and in love.

“You ever feel that way?” She said, ripping him out of his thoughts, and he nodded wordlessly, sighing for effect.

“I feel that way all the time” Except his every day was spent wondering just how he ever got so lucky, how he managed to fall in love with the same woman who gave him apple cake when he couldn’t remember the last real meal he’d had because he was three months deep in an opioid addiction and having her look at him like he hung the damn cosmos.

“Take it off,” She ordered, and Spencer tried flashing her a surprised if not charmed smile, though his hackles were slightly raised, “As a sign of your commitment. To me,”

He bit his cheek, knowing better than to argue back if he was playing the part of the down beaten husband, and began twisting the gold ring off his wedding finger, handing it over to her expectant palm.

“If she sticks to the pattern, she’ll take him to a secondary location and then kill him.” JJ observed, sipping on her mocktail in her own fancy, ruffled dress, shooting Tara and Derek a look where they played the part of a sweet couple on a date.

“I’d like to see the bitch try,” Bugsy said through a wide fake smile, her face showing no symptoms of anger except the flash of teeth.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re not letting it get that far,” Rossi added, and the two of them clinked their drinks together in a ringing chink, “Hotch, do you two have a visual?”

Penelope confirmed with a few taps of her keyboard, and Hotch nodded as Spencer confirmed with a small flick of his eyes he could hear the feed, ”Alright, all agents stand by. Dr Reid will give the green light, don’t move until we have it,”

“Twenty four carats?” Cat asked, twisting the ring in between her fingers with a smug grin like she already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, looking down at the band and back up the soulless dark hues of the black widow woman.

“Twenty four k times… four years. Means this ring should be dinged and nicked, but,” She huffed, reaching into her purse under the table, and Bugsy damn near spat out her juice when she heard a gun load through the mic, “This sucker is brand new. You’re not married.”

“What was that, was that what I think it was?” Penelope’s stressed tone rushed through the ear piece, and the sound of it plus the smell of the chicken she’d just eaten made Bugsy’s stomach turn again.

Except this time she felt it coming up into her throat, the same way she’d found herself feeling queasy for a few days. Spencer had thought she had a stomach bug, had tried to get her to stay home with some mint tea, but this was more than the last few times. It was like her anxiety clenched her gut in a tight grip and twisted painfully, and she lurched forward, slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Kid?” Rossi said, his brows frowning at the expression on her face, and she immediately began untucking her napkin from her chest.

She needed to make it to the bathroom now, hoped on everything that the sudden movement didn’t distract where Cat held a gun to Spencer’s midriff beneath the table.

“What is she doing?” Morgan hissed into the mic, while Hotch and Penelope began barking protests.

“Oh, good lord, Bug, stay down, you don’t know what that psycho is going to do!” Penelope squealed, watching Bugsy rush out of the booth seat, a hand firmly over her lips, and Aaron brought a hand to his head, a splitting headache forming at the sight of the youngest agent rushing for the bathroom.

“Prentiss, what are you doing, you could blow your cover,” He snapped, though there was no anger there, and she could only switch her mic off for what was about to happen, knowing the team had much bigger things to worry about.

Bursting the doors open, she dived for the nearest stall and fell to her knees, head in the bowl before she could hock up her guts over the floor, and then came a horrid retching sound.

Spencer’s eyes widened at the table, hearing his team yelling out orders at the one person he couldn’t keep track of, and it took everything in him not to turn in his seat to investigate for himself what happened for her to flee the safety of the table, or go after her even. Because even if he wanted to, even if he needed nothing more than to make sure she was okay, he couldn’t move an inch. Not with the gun being pointed at all of his important organs by the experienced killer with a smile.

“Do you know why I’m so good at my job?” Cat asked in a sweet tone, her eyes cold and calculating as she cocked the gun beneath the seat.

“Because you kill without compunction or remorse,” Spencer bit, the flirty look in his expression long gone the second he’d heard the rest of his team calling for his girlfriend. He needed to keep his head, Bugsy was safe so long as she was far away from the woman pointing the gun at him. Having the weapon aiming for him he could deal with.

“That only gets a girl so far in life,” Cat agreed with a nod, her jaw setting in a hard clench, “No, it’s because I think through every possible outcome and then I plan accordingly,”

And Bugsy’s stomach seized hearing her voice so cold and viscous, and she would give anything to hear her partner flirting with that bitch of a woman if it meant she knew he was safe. She emptied her stomach again right as she heard their UnSub speak once more.

“You see, I didn’t walk into your trap. You walked into mine,”

And with that Bugsy gave another hurl.

–

“Spencer, why did you take time off from the FBI?” Cat insisted, her voice nails on a chalkboard, and he felt the apathy on his face flick into slight annoyance.

Bugsy. Because Bugsy had been ill, because she hadn’t been sleeping, because she hadn’t been herself for a few months, because his mom had gotten worse, because they needed him.

Spencer would take the bullet before he ever told her about Bugsy, because he knew for a woman who loved male attention, telling her about the girl he loved most in the world would only draw a big target on her back, and he would never dare to put her at risk. Never again.

Not a single hair on her head, he’d promised. Not even a scratch.

“You can ask me as many times as you want but I’m still not going to tell you,” He snipped, making sure to keep his face expressionless if he really wanted to sell the deal that she was a nobody to him.

Her mouth tightened in frustration, “Then you’re cheating, and I don’t like cheaters,”

“You don’t get everything you want just because you’re pointing a gun at me under the table.” He stated blankly, his team waiting on bated breath to see if they needed to send in their back up since JJ’s cover had already been blown. “You’re not the first killer to point a gun at me, you’re not even the first woman to point a gun at me. Sorry.”

Cat’s smile shifted into something akin to a snarl, and she leaned forward on her elbows, and Spencer matched her challenge with cool ease. “You’re really gonna take this all the way, aren’t you?”

And Spencer smiled wryly, because her composure was collapsing beneath her, “Yeah,”

“So am I,”

“Dave, go,” Hotch ordered, and Rossi drew his gun beneath a napkin, shuffling to his feet, “Prentiss, where the hell are you?”

And she knew she was wasting time, but her stomach had picked the worst time to flip. Perhaps it was the anxiety, or the pressure of a gun being pointed at her love, or maybe it was bad chicken. Either way her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, her legs weak where she’d crouched on the floor, and she chided herself for not being able to pull it together when Spencer needed her.

And as if her nerves weren’t rattled enough, she heard Spencer’s mic mute out, and she knew then that the time for sticking her head in the bowl and screaming at herself to get up was over. Spencer was in trouble. Two of their agents' cover was blown. With Tara and Derek sitting the opposite end of the restaurant, he was alone if Cat Adams decided to pull that trigger.

Spitting the rancid taste from her mouth into the toilet, she reached up for the flush, wiping her mouth with a handful of toilet paper.

“Hotch,” She tuned in, and she heard the sighs of relief as he and Penelope seemed to both ease slightly at hearing her voice, “I’m back, how’s Rossi?”

“His cover’s blown, he’s heading out to find JJ,” Hotch responded, his heart rate in his throat the second he’d heard her sound through. He knew it would be unfair if he pulled her from field work for another three months, but the second she’d disappeared from their screens, he’d already began thinking of the excuse he could give if it meant he knew she was kept out of harm’s way, “Where are you, are you hurt?”

“No, no, just,” She cleared her throat, leaving the stall and heading for the sinks, “Bad chicken I guess,”

Taking a handful of cold water up to her mouth, she swilled the liquid around to try freshen herself up, sputtering it back into the sink and running the back of her hand over her lips.

“Do you need to get out of there?” Hotch asked, the concern thick in his tone, almost as clear as it was on his brow as he leaned in to Penelope’s monitor, “Lewis and Morgan have got eyes-”

“No, I’m not leaving him out there,” She protested, leaning over the sink with an exhausted huff, “I can’t head back to the table, she’ll know I was with Rossi,”

And as if she had spoken a plea to the universe, one of the waitresses waltzed through the bathroom door carrying glass cleaner and a bunch of fresh toilet paper under her arm, smiling sweetly at Bugsy who seemed like any other patron of their restaurant.

Her eyes snapped over the girl’s body, figuring she was about the same size, perhaps a tiny bit bigger than herself, she almost audibly heard the click of the idea and before she knew it she had reached out to grab the girl’s attention.

She just hoped it worked, because otherwise the scolding she was going to receive from Hotch wouldn’t be worth it in the slightest.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna penalise you by adding ten minutes because I actually did learn something important.” Cat said with a smirk, her finger flicking over the clock on his phone as she prolonged the countdown, and Spencer squirmed where she shuffled closer to him, close enough that their knees were touching and he could feel where the toe of her heels were teasingly stroking up his calf, like threatening him and his team for information was getting her off. He felt filthy, like he’d need a dozen showers before he fell into his girlfriend’s arms, and part of him considered skipping the whole dinner and speech, asking her the second he saw her again if she would be his wife.

Because this, having another woman so close, was making him sick.

“Oh really? What’s that?” He snapped, his patience wearing thin as his lips pressed in a straight line.

“Your back up, I flushed them out,” She replied with a smirk, looking around the room with an arrogance Spencer wished he could wipe right off of her face, “It’s just me and you now,”

“Hi, how are we all doing this wonderful evening?” A chirpy voice came from the end of the table, slamming two menus down between them hard enough that their attention snapped to her immediately. Spencer felt his eyes morph into horror, though he fought hard to hide it, as he saw a familiar face, the same one that had been running through his mind since, well, forever. Her red dress was gone, replaced with a maroon shirt and a black pencil skirt, her hair tied back in a neat bun and she had a pen pushed behind her ear for good measure as she smiled at them tightly.

Bugsy had really done it this time.

“My name is Emily and I’ll be your waitress. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

–

“Prentiss, what in god’s name have you done?” Hotch barked, as she waltzed behind the bar, ignoring the looks from the barman that clearly had never seen her working there before.

“I’m making sure Spencer has back up if she decides to get trigger happy,” She bit back, snagging a pitcher of water from the fridge and two crystalline glasses, placing them on an upturned tray.

“And what happens if she gets trigger happy towards the waitress that won’t leave them alone?” Morgan snipped, shooting her a look where their table faced the long, walnut coloured bar that wrapped around the back of the establishment.

“Well then, I guess we pray there’s a doctor in the house that isn't Spencer,” She huffed, plastering a fake smile on her lips, and carefully shuffling the tray onto her palm, “You’re going to have to take me out yourselves if you think I’m leaving him there alone,”

And they huffed, Hotch running a hand through his hair. Because they knew she wasn’t kidding. God help the man who tried to stop Bugsy when she had her mind to something.

And with that resounding silence, she listened to Spencer’s mic, hoping to catch a foot in to the conversation.

“You should have seen right through me the moment you walked in, but you didn’t,” He said, and she didn’t need to take a glance at Cat’s face to know she was getting more than riled up. Why was she here? What happened to staying with Rossi where it was safe? It was her first day back in the field, what was she doing? He didn’t think he’d ever been so angry, though he knew if he scratched the surface of the feeling he’d find it was fear. And unfortunately for the woman sat opposite him, he’d stopped pulling his punches because of it. “You couldn’t. Because you can’t get to the man you really want to hurt, so you need to hurt every man who reminds you of him,”

Cat’s face flashed with what he could have sworn was hurt, before her eyes steeled back over and she shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t hit straight home, “That’s kind of boiler plate psychology, isn’t it? I’m just another girl with daddy issues,”

“You’d be surprised how many killers do what they do because of their parents,” He snapped back, because he couldn’t dare take his eyes from their UnSub, no matter how desperately his gut told him to check on Bugsy. “If it’s so boilerplate, let's test that theory. How hard did you look for him?”

Her mouth screwed up in bitterness, “Very hard,”

“And how disappointed were you when you realised you will never find him?” Spencer drove the knife in deeper, watching Cat’s resolve fade under his hateful stare, “You needed some other outlet for your rage and for a while this worked, but it also tripped you up,”

And Bugsy stopped, because Spencer always had a way of saying the exact right thing that made her brain tick into genius, like everything about him made her the best version of herself even if he didn’t mean to. That was what tripped her up. Her father.

“Hotch, it’s her dad,” She murmured, flashing a couple of customers an easy smile as she took the plates off their table, because Cat would catch on way too fast if she seemed to be the only person not be doing a job, “That’s what she wants, that’s her endgame,”

And there was only a single second between them, before Hotch caught up to that wonderfully big brain of hers, “Serial killers with an endgame will do anything to get to them, even if it means taking themselves down with it,”

“Why would I make you sit here for thirty minutes?” Cat’s voice crawled down her ear piece as she burst through the kitchen doors, dumping the plates at the pot wash and looking to where JJ and Rossi were talking with the manager.

“Because you’re stalling,” Spencer said, though he didn’t have that usual tone that told her he was sure of himself, and she knew from the direction it was going that something was missing. They’d missed something, otherwise they’d have Cat in cuffs by now.

“Then you don’t know me at all,” She hissed back, and Bugsy shook her nerves out through her fingers, peeking at where they were sat through the thin glass pane on the door, “Do you think I would show up here without an escape plan. Or is that just what another girl with daddy issues would do? Maybe if you hadn’t fallen victim to your own gender bias, and yes all men have gender bias, even you Dr Reid, you would have recognized that your entire strategy was based on one faulty detail. Can you see it?”

Spencer paused, his frown shifting on his face, “You’re not here alone,”

“And my partner? Less paranoid than you think,” She said, and by the sounds of it the smirk was back on her face, and Bugsy fought the sneer twitching at her lips.

“You planted a bomb in the building,” Came Spencer's response, the grave realisation setting all three agents into motion. JJ’s head whirled to where their youngest stood by the door, her eyes widening at her partner’s words.

And for a second she wanted to beg Bugsy to take cover outside, to get out while she still could, because it had been a miracle the last time a building had exploded around her and she’d only broken a few bones. JJ didn’t think she could stand to grieve her for good, not the girl who had already gone through so much for them. All because they had missed it.

But she knew better, knew Bugsy would fight tooth and nail to stay if Spencer was still in the building. Knew that that argument would only be futile, a waste of time, because the Prentiss girl was not leaving.

“We’ll go check it out, you stay put,” JJ ordered, drawing her gun to her side as Rossi did the same and Bugsy nodded, “Don’t do anything stupid, don’t draw attention to yourself, Spencer knows what he’s doing,”

And Bugsy paused before she answered, choosing to give them a slow nod because she already had a good idea of what her next move would be, and it absolutely did not involve staying put.

Like hell she would stay put while he was there.

With that, JJ and Rossi turned on their heel to head for the stairs leading underneath the building, and Bugsy picked the tray back up, right as Lewis burst through the revolving doors, a serious look on her primped face.

“We need to evacuate,” Tara said, and Bugsy nodded, flicking a look behind her to where the rest of the kitchen seemed to be waiting on their order, because the second JJ had flashed the FBI badge, they had frozen.

“You get the customers out safely, I’m going to buy us some time,” Bugsy said, and Tara watched her slip through into the restaurant, the tray pressed against her stomach.

This was stupid. Stupider than she’d ever been, but her thoughts struggled to make sense whenever Spencer was in trouble. And it was like she saw the splash of his brains against the table, the same way she’d seen it in Lewis’s house all on the ceiling, like she could see now just what his organs would look like when Adams shot him however many time in the abdomen.

She couldn’t think like that. They would be okay, they would figure it out together, they always did. They always managed to put their heads together when they were in trouble.

Being in danger together seemed like a much better bet than having to watch the love of her life killed in the middle of this damn restaurant because she hadn’t done anything. She wanted to do everything with him for the rest of her sorry life, and if that meant sitting at the nozzle end of a pistol with him, then so be it.

She just hoped he would forgive her quickly.

“All we want to do is-” She heard Spencer begin, the other waiters filtering out of the kitchen with shaken looks on their faces, as they carefully slipped their patrons the bill that had already paid off, asking them to leave calmly and quietly.

“Minimise collateral damage, I get it, I’m not mad,” Cat snapped back, rolling her eyes, “It’ll give me the cover I need to slip out. I just need to know it’s clear, so do me a favour and tell your boss that nobody leaves until its safe for me to do so,”

Spencer chewed his tongue. He couldn’t let her leave, not when they had her so close, not when they were pursuing Penelope, not when they were so close to catching the woman responsible for so many kills.

Spencer hated losing, he hated knowing that she was about to get away because he had been too wrapped up in his overwhelming thoughts to figure out her plan, too busy fretting over the two women who meant the most to him to think ten steps ahead like he usually did.

He’d been sloppy, even though he knew he should cut himself some slack. His fiancee, girlfriend, had been tortured, his mother facing a different kind of terror in her mind altogether. He hadn’t been thinking about work, he’d been thinking of the house they were going to buy with the picket fence and the porch swing and the mortgage, and the damn ring-

“Well?” Cat’s goading voice ripped him out of his reverie, and he huffed in defeat, “Spencer?”

“You can leave,” He murmured, the agitation scratching at his skin because he was struggling to think of a final card to play. He was usually so good at games, usually won every single one of them. But his head couldn’t settle when Bugsy wasn’t near, when he couldn’t make sure she was safe.

Cat shuffled out of the side of the booth, her eyes flicking across the restaurant for her contact, and Spencer had barely opened his mouth in protest before he watched the UnSub walk straight into a waitress, a false smile slipping on her face as to not raise alarm.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was-” And yet his breath hitched when he spotted the hair he’d ran his fingers through just that morning yanked into a bun, the lips he could kiss for an entire lifetime curled in disdain, the body he worshipped refusing to move out of the way for the woman in a hurry.

And it seemed Cat only realised that the woman who had brought them water wasn’t a waitress at all, despite her plain face that had faded into the background, despite the fact Spencer hadn’t given her a second glance; Only when she heard a gun cocking behind the serving tray at her stomach did the fake smile drop from Cat Adams face.

Because she hadn’t flushed out Spencer’s back up. Not while Bugsy was still alive and breathing.

“Sit back down,” Bugsy growled, keeping her tone low but with enough bite that Cat’s eyes narrowed to hide the surprise.

“Well, well, seems I hadn’t planned for everything, I thought a pretty face like you would know better than to pull a gun on a woman with her finger on the big red button,” Cat said wryly, though Bugsy caught her eyeing up her chest as if to be checking for a bullet vest, “Move out the way, sweetheart. You don’t want this to get ugly,”

Spencer’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth, though he kept his breathing even. What was she doing?

He didn’t care that he had no more power over her than anyone else on the team, he wanted to drag her out of the room himself if it meant she would stop throwing herself in the way of danger.

“Unfortunately, sweetheart, that’s not happening.” Bugsy snapped back, her expression melting into something rogue, something teasing as she leaned towards Cat with a challenge in her eyes. “You’re going to sit back down, and I’m going to show you exactly why you should have accounted for a pretty face like me,”

“You’re stalling,” Cat snickered, trying to push past the waitress, who wasn’t a waitress at all but an FBI agent, only for her hand to shoot out and grab her wrist, tossing the tray on the table.

Spencer felt his heart lurch into his throat as he saw both of them pull their guns to waist height, a blink and you’d miss it kind of movement, and it was like he’d seen the game set and matched then and there.

Bugsy wasn’t backing down. And neither was Cat.

“I make it a habit of knowing what kind of women are going on dates with my boyfriend,” Bugsy’s hand tightened around her wrist, watching the surprise flicker in the woman’s eyes, and she scoffed, “What? You really thought all that flirting and nervous glances were real?”

And the woman said nothing, her ego clearly a little hurt, though Bugsy was just sticking to the profile, and the profile said she revelled in male attention.

“Cat got your tongue?” Bugsy snipped through a grin, even if her chest was pounding at the feeling of the gun pointing at her abdomen, “Well, lucky for you I have a present for you. On the condition you sit back down and play my game,”

“You think I’m going to fall for that shit?” Cat seethed. It was one thing to outsmart a man, that was fair game, that was easy pickings for a woman like her. But a woman, a woman who seemed to love playing with her food as much as she did. That was different, “What is it, a reduced sentence? The good TV in my two by four cell? You can keep dreaming, I don’t want your worthless promises,”

“I’d hardly call your daddy dearest worthless,” Bugsy mused, and she watched Cat’s expression falter, “A dead beat drunk maybe, but worthless? A little harsh considering you waited so long to meet him,”

Cat paused, eyes flicking over the woman’s face for any signs of a lie, “You have my father?”

And Bugsy smirked, “Do I look like I’m bluffing?” But her face was set in stone, and Cat hated to admit she seemed too confident to be lying, “Why don’t you make this a little easier for everyone and sit back down. I’m not done with you yet,”

The murderess scowled, her shoulders straightening as she ripped her wrist out of Bugsy’s grip and retreated back to the booth.

And it was only then that Bugsy looked at Spencer, his eyes wide in a horrid mix of terror and rage, and it was a sight she swore she never wanted directed at her again. But she couldn’t leave him, he had to understand that. Because if all the bets were off, if all the cards were dealt, she knew he would need to be dragged screaming from the building before he left her to deal with a hostile UnSub alone.

And Spencer knew that too, of course he knew that. Yet it didn’t diminish the sickening worry bubbling up in his chest as the women sat down at the table, and their game had a playing field.

“So, I take it this is the darling wife you wanted killed,” Cat sneered, and Spencer didn’t dare take his eyes off the woman with the gun, even if Bugsy did have one pointed right back at her, “I don’t blame you, I’d want to be rid of her too,”

And they both knew it was a dig, a stab in the interest of getting them both riled up. But it wouldn’t go far. Because despite the anger Spencer felt dwindling in his chest, he always worked better with her. Like a puzzle piece in the tangle of his mind had clicked into place, and suddenly they were a team again, and she seemed more like herself than she had in months, an ease about the way she leaned back in the plush seat despite the fact her finger was resting on the trigger.

“Have you ever played Cat’s cradle?” Bugsy asked her, knocking her knee against his as if she’d heard his thoughts. They were together in this. Together. Even if the building went up in flames and bullets and the plan went to shit. Just the two of them, the way they’d always been.

And he felt himself ease back too, something akin to security shifting over him. They always were safer together.

Cat’s eyebrows raised as Bugsy dodged her comment, “What, do you want to braid my hair like sixth graders, too? What about it?”

Bugsy shrugged, reaching over with her free hand to the glass of water she’d set down for the two of them, “The way I see it, Cat, you have got those little paws caught in yarn and are scrambling to get out of it,” She chuckled, taking a quick sip, “Now, if we were to let you go, you’d end up walking out of here scot free, and who knows, might even blow up the whole building anyway. But, if we help you out of this little tangle you’ve got us all in, then maybe we cut a deal that doesn’t involve all of us going out in a ball of flames and champagne. Sounds good right?”

The woman’s lips pursed tightly, her head tilting in annoyance, “Alright. Get on with it, no one likes a show off. How did you find my father?”

Bugsy smirked, “Well that was pretty easy once you have access to the files we have. We traced your birth record to a Daniel Adams, who did in fact leave the country in 1987 but returned in 2012. Based on confidential records in rehabs and sober living houses, which in turn pointed us to flophouses and soup kitchens.”

The brunette’s eye twitched, like the girl had just spat in her face, which was what it felt like, and she felt the taste of her own medicine was just as sour as she’d always presumed.

“He couldn’t put twenty four hours together sober, sweetheart,” Bugsy summarised, shrugging her shoulders as if it was no big deal to her, just another bum on the street, “You can probably imagine our surprise to find that he lives here in DC,”

“Where?” Cat hissed, and Bugsy snickered, shaking her head and taking another sip of her water.

“I’m an agent, not a miracle worker. It wasn’t that simple,” She replied, boredly tracing her finger over the restaurants emblem they had printed on the napkin, “I found him on the street, showed him your picture and said I’d like to ask him some questions about his darling daughter,”

Cat’s lip pulled down in annoyance, her matt red lipstick smudging with her pout, “And?”

And perhaps Bugsy was being cruel. Perhaps she was playing into the profile that indicated Cat needed someone to match her wit and zeal if she was going to listen. Men, she could squash like bugs. Bugsy, ironically, not so much.

Perhaps she was thinking about how she’d reached into Spencer's pants to retrieve his gun, and wanted some of what she was saying to hurt.

“He didn’t even know he had a daughter,” Bugsy said simply, with a small shrug of her shoulders, and she watched the woman’s onyx brown eyes glisten with unshed tears as the realisation crashed on her, "Didn't really seem to care,"

“He-he didn’t remember me?” Cat asked, the tease that had been there half an hour ago wiped clear from her tone, and Bugsy shook her head.

“Nope,” She said, popping the last syllable, “Alcoholism really rocks your brain. Sorry, honey,”

Adams scoffed, shaking her head with venom, “You’re not sorry. Sorry is what people say when they don’t understand,”

And Bugsy’s brows raised, a bitter empathy flicking in her gaze. Quick, but not so quick that Cat didn’t catch it, and she shuffled in her seat.

“Oh,” Their UnSub paused, the trodden down look on her face rekindling with interest, “But you understand, don’t you? What, does your father like a good beer or ten, princess?”

Bugsy snickered emptily, “Ofcourse I understand,” She said, leaning over the table to hold the woman’s glare, because like hell would she back down just because Cat was treading on home ground, “I haven’t spoken to my father in five years. He picked the hot wife and holidays to Aruba over his little girl and he thought a new pony or two would make up for all the times he forgot Christmas. I can’t even remember the last time he sent me a birthday card on time, and yeah he was a bit of a mean bastard once he'd had a whiskey,” She shook her head with contempt, and she felt Spencer knock his knee against hers gently, but she only watched the viper woman with careful eyes. And to her shock, Cat seemed like she understood her, like she had some kind of respect for her telling the truth. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m very good at making sure old guys like that get what’s coming to them. Or is that just what another girl with daddy issues would do?”

Cat’s face seemed to shrivel in frustration when she heard her words repeated back to her, “Is that really why you came here today? To help me?” And Bugsy tilted her head, knowing their UnSub was running out of time, that her window of opportunity was closing with the patrons of the restaurant getting antsy to leave. “Do you know how many men have told me they want to help me?”

Letting her expression smooth into empathy, she leaned forward, her tone dropping into a hushed murmur, “That may well be true, sweetheart, but from where I’m sitting, I’m not a man,”

And Cat paused, something like regret drifting over her face, before she spoke again, “Do you want to know how that worked out for them?”

And with that, JJ and Rossi watched the C4 charge’s switch to green, indicating their line was live and ready to blow.

“Hotch, she just armed the bomb,”

Bugsy’s expression dropped an inch, the sight of it making Cat’s lips curl into a cheshire smile.

“You’re not the only one with a loyal partner, honey,”

But the Prentiss woman was quick on her heels, watching Morgan and Tara rise from their place at another booth, heading towards a woman sitting at the bar on her phone, and she forced her lips together to stop herself from looking too smug to cause suspicion.

“It seems so,” Bugsy agreed with a nod, handing her gun off to Spencer beneath the table.

If he was confused, he didn’t show it, probably because he trusted that big brain of hers with everything in him, even if he was mad enough he could feel the annoyance oozing from his hot cheekbones. Yet to the rest of the restaurant, Cat Adams, included she hadn’t moved an inch.

“But, there is one thing I can guarantee about this partner of yours,” She said, leaning over to pour herself another glass of water casually.

Cat hummed in content, “Oh, right? What’s that?”

And Bugsy smirked, barely raising the glass to her lips as Morgan pounced on the Bomber, ripping the phone out of her hands and causing the patrons around her to yelp, “She’s sure as shit not as clever as me and my husband,”

Cat’s head whirlled around to see her partner’s face slamming into the hard wood of the bar, Tara yanking the cuffs from her belt, and she barely had time to flick back to the two agents facing her before a pitcher of ice cold water was thrown in her eyes, her thick mascara running down her cheeks and blurring her vision. Spencer dove over the table and grabbed her gun from her grasp as Bugsy ripped her out of the booth with rough hands.

She threw her to the ground in the few seconds she was disorientated, her hands tightening around her wrists as make shift cuffs, and she saw Spencer hurrying to grab the real things from his pockets.

“That was a cheap shot, you’re a cheater, you said you’d play fair,” Cat barked, her cheeks pressing against the rough carpet as the agents cuffed her, ignoring her protests and shoves.

“Honey, this is me playing fair,” Bugsy snapped with a cruel smirk, “You threatened my friends, you stuck your hand in my boyfriend’s pants, and pointed a gun at him. Believe me I could have done so much worse,”

And with that Cat Adams was hauled off the ground by the two of them, as they led her out to the police van waiting outside the restaurant.

–

The doors pulled open, empty, and Cat’s face dropped, because her only silver lining on the entire outcome had been that she’d be able to meet the dead beat dad that ran out on her.

That agent’s face had been so genuine as she’d said it. It had seemed so real, and yet…

“You lied to me,” She said as Bugsy set her down on the bench, Spencer pulling another set of handcuffs from his belt and the two of them looked up at her, her lashes lining with disappointment.

“If it helps, we really did try to look for him.” Spencer said, his tone blunt because she had a crazed look in her eye he didn’t like one bit the second she stared at his girlfriend.

And even though she was the one in chains, heading for prison for a twenty year sentence at the minimum, she laughed. Cackled.

“It doesn't matter anyway, I still won,” She said, that venomous gaze turning to Spencer because she had learned atleast two thing in the time she’d been sat with the two agents that ruined her life.

One. Spencer’s mother had Alzheimers, that he hadn’t been lying about. That she was sure was too real to be a story he’d pulled out his ass.

Two. The girl wasn’t phased by insults or bites or cruel words directed towards her. Yet when it was at Spencer…

“How do you figure that one?” Bugsy said, her brow furrowing as she shook her head at the woman.

“In ten years, Mommy dearest won’t remember anyone’s name,” Bugsy’s head shot up at that, her lips curling into a snarl, and she forced her fingertips into her palm to stop herself from throwing a slap at the woman’s face, “But I’ll remember yours,”

Bugsy daren’t react, no matter if her chest boiled in anger at the woman’s callous words. Spencer had to give that information up, give a small bit of his soft underbelly to get the woman to trust him enough not to shoot.

And she couldn’t exactly blame him when he rose to his feet, darting out of the van with a clenched jaw, because the day had been an entire shit show, and she knew by the growl of annoyance he let out that their was a big conversation looming over her head, one she could only see ending in a fight.

It was just the two of them in the van, Cat entirely bound to her seat, and her painted lips had pulled into a grin the second he’d stormed off, her sleek eyes snapping to Bugsy who looked ready to slit her throat.

“Oh, come on Princess, it was tit for tat,” Cat shrugged as if she didn’t seem destroyed, “You took my dad from me, I guess I had to do the same for that hubby of yours,”

Bugsy looked down at her, swallowing her rage with a purse of her lips, feeling her breath rattle with unfiltered animosity.

“You’d make a shit profiler, for what it’s worth. What you profiled about him was all off,” She snarled, stepping away from the woman and looking down at her as if she was shit on the bottom of her shoe, “At least he’s going to make a better father than the bum who would rather sleep on concrete than know you,”

And with that she slammed the doors closed behind her, darting off on Spencer’s heel.

+1. The one where she tells him.

She saw his stress lines, the way the day’s events had weighed heavy on him. He sat on the sofa, his shoes thrown by the door after a tense drive home, and she'd found a space on the coffee table in front of him.

He was quiet, he had never been quiet with her, not in the years since they’d kissed that first time in her room. He wasn’t one for the silent treatment, she knew that much. Yet he was just that. Silent.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked, her voice that of a child as her brows scrunched together in worry. She felt the words bubbling in her throat, the thing she’d needed to tell him for a week gnawing at her tongue, crawling it’s way out, only she worried that after what she had done, he might just be ten times more annoyed at her throwing herself in the line of danger.

He stayed quiet for a moment, and she thought this might turn into their first real fight in the two and bit years they’d been together. Her skin went cold at the words that loomed over them, and she knew by the way he sighed alone he was pissed.

“You can’t do that,” He said, his voice a restrained bite, and he shook his head for good measure, “You can’t put yourself in the way of danger again, I can’t do that again, not after Scratch.”

Her throat closed up with tears, and she glanced at him, her fingers itching to take his warm hands in her own, her body begging to preen into him, have him kiss her and tell her he wasn’t mad, that he still loved her, that everything was okay. But he wouldn’t. Not because he didn’t feel any of that, of course he still loved her, but the wet that lined his lashes told her all she needed to know. That seeing what Scratch had done to her had scared him enough that even the idea of her coming close to a hostile UnSub with a loaded gun, that straying from the plan that was designed to keep everyone safe, had tipped him into a grey area that had him both wanting to hold her close and never let her go whilst yelling at her in that broken cadence to show her just how hurt he was.

“I’m sorry, I just-” She choked, her eyes becoming watery and pathetic and she hated crying during arguments, not wanting to look weak but that was exactly how she felt. Weak. Like she had no backbone to lean on because she knew she shouldn’t have intervened, but the snake-like woman undressing her boyfriend with her eyes while cocking a weapon at him had pushed her over the edge.

“Oh, you’re sorry, that makes it much better,” Spencer shook his head, furrowing his brows and it was only when he leaned forward that the salty hot tears dribbled down his cheek. “You- you can’t just do that, Bugsy, you know that right?”

She nodded, the words building in her trachea like word vomit, like she wanted to scream the confession at him that she should have given him the second she’d found out. “I know, I’m sorry,” She said again, her words entirely warbled with guilt because she’d never seen him so distraught, and she thought back to the horror that had spread on his face when she’d sat down.

“You can’t do that to me, sweetheart, do you understand?” His tone had shifted, something a little softer and he grabbed her hands tightly when her shoulders hunched together, and she leaned forward to try to hide her cries in her lap, sitting silently like a scolded child, “What were you thinking? You just got back into the field today, you could have been hurt, you could have gotten someone else hurt-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” She sniffled, her expression truly guilty, because everything he was saying was exactly true, she could have gotten him shot. “I didn’t think, I wasn’t thinking, I just was worried that…” She trailed off, her heart rate spiking when the words almost slipped from her tongue. She couldn’t tell him, not like this.

“What?” Spencer pressed, because he didn’t like the look of whatever had just passed over her face, and she shook her head in denial, “Bug, tell me,”

“No, I can’t,” Her breath clogged in her chest, coming out in a shaky rattle, and it was then that he leaned forward even more, trying to dip his head down to catch her eye, "Not like this,"

“Please tell me,” He begged, his eyes still stinging where another wave of tears threatened to burst at the seam when she shook her head again, her chin pressing down into her chest because he hated this. He hated arguing with her. “I’m sorry I yelled, I didn’t mean to, honey, I just got- worried.”

“I know,” She said quietly through another sniffle, rubbing her cheek on her shoulder to dry it, “I know, I’m sorry I didn’t think it through I just,” She took a deep breath, because she knew she needed to tell him, knew there was no more running from it.

He lifted a palm to her cheek, his thumb skirting under her eyelashes, and he forced himself together because he could never stand to see her cry, not when it was partially his fault, “What?”

“I just can’t do this without you,” She murmured, her heart in her throat, and it only made it difficult to swallow. She chanced a look at Spencer, his eyes wet and red and worried as she continued, “I can’t be the one to tell this kid their dad died because I didn’t do anything,”

“What..” He started, his brows immediately falling into a frown as he looked at her. She swore she could hear every single contraction of her heart muscles in her ears, the blood rushing through her veins making it sound like waves crashing on a shore right in her eardrum.

“It’s still fixable,” She jumped in, before he could say anything, like she needed to justify immediately what she’d said, or even just talk to fill the silence because she hated not knowing what he was thinking, “It’s only five weeks along, I still have time to… fix it-”

“Five weeks- you-you’re pregnant?” Spencer’s eyes were wide, with horror or shock she had no idea, nor did she want to find out judging by the way he had turned pale, reading between the lines, “W-What- fix it? Is that what you want to do?”

She stopped, because he seemed to be keeping a lid on his emotions, trying his hardest to sound calm and somehow that made it all the more worse. Because she would rather him get angry, or get frustrated and tell her this was too soon, or tell her there was no way he was ready to be a father, because at least then the pressure of it wasn’t on her back to decide for both of them.

But he would never, and she didn’t know why she’d ever second guessed him. He wasn’t yelling, or turning away, or leaving her the second things got tough, because it was Spencer. And Spencer would never. Spencer gave her the choice of what she wanted to do.

She stopped, her lungs suddenly feeling just that bit tighter, as she shrugged pitifully, and she thought this was perhaps not the most ideal way to tell someone you’re pregnant, “I-I don’t know, I think…” She stopped, because what did she think? She’d been so wrapped up in worrying about what Spencer would think, worrying about his mom and her nightmares and Cat God Damn Adams that she hadn’t even let herself entertain the thought of a little them.

But if she said she didn’t like the idea of a little boy with Spencer’s hair and glasses and smile, if she said she couldn’t see the photo album his mom had handed her full of pictures of their kids butt naked and watering the flower beds, she would be a liar.

“I think… it would take a lot of work, I mean it’s a baby for christ sakes, Bugsy, of course it’ll take work,” He nodded slowly as she chided herself, but she felt his hands tighten on hers, and the tiny gesture gave her the encouragement she needed. She took another breath, that boy with brown curls and her eyes in a jedi costume flashing through her head, “But.. I think having a mini you is everything I could have ever wished for,”

His lip quivered for a minute, and she worried she’d said the wrong thing. And then…

He smiled, wider than she’d ever seen him, like she could count every single one of his teeth, and she copied him despite the way a frog leapt into her throat, and she saw his eyes line with a fresh set of tears.

“Really, we’re really doing this?” Spencer asked, quietly, like someone could hear them, or perhaps he couldn’t believe himself even as he said it. He thought his chest was about to explode, thought his heart could never love someone so much as he loved her, thought it would never beat the same way again as it had before he’d been told he was going to have a baby with the woman he’d been in love with for nearly nine years. She nodded, her shy smile turning into something happy, maybe even excited as he pulled her in for an achingly sweet kiss, his hands cupping her cheeks as he kissed her lips over and over and over again, ignoring the salt that trapped in her skin, and he realised then he had started crying just as much as she had. Two wailing saps sitting in their living room, happier than they’d ever dreamed they were allowed to be. “I love you, I love you, I love you more than anything, I was so stupid, I’m so sorry I shouted-”

She chuckled, shaking her head, and drawing him back in for a long, silencing kiss, “I was stupid, very stupid.” Bugsy said, the weight lifting off her chest like a dumbbell had been moved, and she could breath again. Because Spencer kissed her like he wanted to merge their bodies into one, like he didn’t care for breath anymore as long as he had her lips on his, and she couldn’t help think if that was what he thought of her too, “No more being stupid from either of us. Kid’s got to have at least one smart parent,“

He smiled, enough joy in his eyes to make her think she was handing him the universe. And yet that was exactly how he felt. Like everything he dreamt of as a kid, when he was in his room wishing his dad had stayed because sometimes looking after his mom was tough on a twelve year old, or when he’d held Henry for the first time and thought maybe he wouldn’t be terrible at it by the time it was his turn.

He looked at Bugsy, the idea of their kid growing inside her, about the size of a petit pois pea at five weeks, and Spencer damn near felt like he’d won the lottery.

And all thoughts of Cat Adams were gone from both of their minds, the viper woman she wished she had gotten a good right hook to when she’d had the chance entirely unimportant now.

Because they were going to be a family, more so than they already were. And Bugsy felt as though she couldn’t love Spencer any more than she already did, but she could love his baby more than she’d ever thought possible.

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mermaidgirl30 · 2 months ago

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✨Saving What Was Lost Part 1: You’re Safe With Me✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: The first chapter is finally here, and I’m so excited to bring this to all the healing girlies that need a protective, soft Joel in their life 🥺 Thank you to @alltheirdamn and @mountainsandmayhem for screaming about them with me. This is raw, heavy, and very emotional. I hope you love it as much as I do 🥹 Screaming because I need a hug from this man 😭

Chapter Summary: The night of the auction, the night you’ll have to face your fate of being bought. But an unexpected man dips his money in and fights for you. His eyes are soft, kind, unlike all the other men. And maybe he’ll just be your saving grace.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 13.9k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, non-consensual touching, a lot of angst, soft and protective Joel, emotional reader, trust issues, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Red. That’s all you see, all you know. The dark crimson lipstick that stains your tainted lips, the cardinal curtains that drape across the buyer’s room, your bloodshot eyes that reflect in mirrors that you can barely stand to look into. It’s all just… red.

You hate your reflection, hate the mascara that runs down your eyes night after night like the blood that covers your once white sheets, hate the way your voice is silenced even when you so desperately want to scream your lungs out. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters because you’re about to be sold to the highest bidder who deems you worthy enough to claim.

You scoff, biting your tongue until you taste copper run down the back of your throat, the tears pooling to the surface against your lash line.

“Stop fucking crying and suck it up,” Angela spits out sharply. “You’re going to make me a lot of money today, sunshine. So put on a big smile for me and stop smudging your makeup. You want to go back with the girls who didn’t get chosen to go on to the next rounds?”

“No,” you mewl, your eyes wide and rounded, your heart lodged in your throat. You know what their poor fates will be, and you’ve had enough abuse and horror to last more than a lifetime.

“Then get out there and stop fucking around. You’re driving my patience, girl. The men are waiting.” She narrows her beady blue eyes and curls her thin red lips into a scowl, pushing you forward and nearly making you trip over your strappy high heels, your ankles barely able to hold your fatigued legs up any longer.

Your heart thunders loudly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears, anxiety threatening to take you down at any minute. Angela would be at your back, digging her spiky heels into your spine, barking at you to move, but what does it matter anymore? You’re already dead. What’s one more scratch to your fragile body that has been violated in ways you’d never speak about aloud.

You’re just a vacant body that’s hollow and worn inside. A mere ghost that’s left this earth long ago, imprisoned to this life to bring pleasure to men who only inflict pain and torture on innocent souls. But there’s nothing you can do. Not a damn thing. You’re stuck like glue unless you find a way to just end everything. Then they’d never be able to touch you again because you’d be buried six feet under the dirt. But at least then you’d be at peace.

You’ll never know peace again. Not in this lifetime. Not ever.

As you turn the sharp corner, the vibrant red curtains separate into a stage-like theater room. Draped material clings to the velvety walls, the color reminding you of death and destruction. You can almost see the imprinted blood stains of the girls who got dragged away by the strands of their fragile hair, leaving claw marks in the walls.

You can still hear the blood curdling screams from some of them left behind, a plea for anyone who was listening, begging for just one person to help. But no one did. Their desperate calls weren’t enough to even stir up a care in the world from any of the men, including your awful handler, Angela. They were just a number, a dollar sign to every single one of these insufferable men, and the only thing they cared about was power, control, and sex.

You weren’t any different in this scenario. And tonight, your soul would be auctioned off. And then you’d be enslaved till your master either killed you, or you found a gun and pulled the trigger yourself to just silence it all.

Your high heels click audibly against the polished stage, your feet dragging as you keep your eyes peeled to the floor like a good submissive. “Keep your head down, don’t ever look them in the eyes. Be the good slut they want you to be and maybe they won’t punish you as much.” That’s what Angela always said for all those unbearable months you lived under her roof, and it was engraved like stone in your mind, imprinted words that might as well be tattooed on your wrist.

You were taken at twenty-six, now a twenty-seven-year-old fucked up girl who doesn’t even know what state she’s in. It’s been a year, maybe two. You don’t fucking know anymore. All you know is that you want to die.

You learned to be submissive, small-minded, belittled, pliant. And the worst part, she taught you to say thank you to your abusers after they were finished having their filthy ways with you night after night…

You were nothing but a collared bitch who forgot how to say the word no. You were their prized possession now, and your body wasn’t your own anymore.

“Ahhh. There she is. There’s my favorite slut of them all.” The word slut cuts you like a sharp knife penetrating deep through your skin, sinking down to stab you right where it hurts worst. “Why don’t you give us a spin, princess? Show these gentlemen what you’ve got to offer. Give them a show.” Garrett’s cackled voice booms through the large room, sending goosebumps down the base of your spine. You never liked him, especially when he cornered you in the bathroom, pushing you against the tile until he forced you down on your knees and told you to suck or he’d wring your neck.

Your eyes press closed at the traumatic memory, teardrops threatening to spill at any moment. You just do what you're told and keep your quivering lips together, your long nails brushing against your bare thighs. The midnight blue dress barely covers your ass, the diamond earrings and pearl necklace weighing you down like a heavy anchor, tethering you to the ocean floor. Your cleavage spills out from the low-cut v shape of the top, breasts almost on full display because Angela said the men would just love it. You hate it, hate her but there’s not a damn thing you can do about any of it. You’re a slave and nothing more than a fuck toy and a quick money maker for the sex traffickers.

You wish you felt more human, but you’re just… not. Most days you can’t even remember your full name, nevertheless your favorite time of year. Being holed up in a horror house for over a year will do that to a girl. Make them forget their entire identity. And that’s exactly what happened to you.

Now you’re just… dust.

“Alright, boys. Shall we start this off with let’s say, ten thousand dollars?” Garrett’s sharp voice zaps like lightning through your nerves, and your whole body is visibly shaking now. His cold emerald eyes look like a viper about to strike its prey, and his smug smirk makes you want to curl in on yourself, hide yourself so he’ll never be able to torture you again.

You hear sounds of squeaking chairs, men cursing under their breath, whistles being thrown around like they’re catcalling you. They are catcalling you. But instead of harmless whistles, they’re poisonous fangs reaching for your skin, trying to seep their venom deep in your veins, claim you as their own. You fucking hate it.

Taking a deep breath, you focus on the plush of the black carpet around the stage, try to pretend it’s lush green grass instead, like you’re running through the woods, escaping far far away from these bad men.

“Come on, love. Don’t be shy. Show me those pretty eyes, so I can see just how gorgeous you’ll be down on your knees, pleasuring me with that pretty mouth of yours.” A man vulgarly shouts at you, the other men’s loud laughter echoing around the room, making you want to curl into a ball and die right on the spot so none of these men can lay a finger on you.

Breathe. Focus. Don’t lose hope. Keep fighting. The words echo through your mind, but you’re so lost that it’s hard to keep going. You’re going to die under one of their hands anyway, so what does it matter?

“Did you hear him, princess? Chin up and look at him.” Garrett’s tone is stern and demanding, and you don’t flinch a second because you know what will happen if you do.

When your eyes snap up, you come face to face with an older man who has cold blue eyes, spiky bleached blonde hair, and a jawline that could cut a man’s body in half. He has an evil glint in his eye, and it’s so revolting that it makes you want to puke. “Ten thousand you say? I’ll take her.” A devilish smirk marks his mouth, and fear strikes through your insides as fast as a lightning bolt.

No. Not him. Anyone but him. He looks like he’s murdered people, and you have no doubt that he’s killed women he’s bought before.

Fear slices through you, but you can’t run, can’t even move. Your feet are nailed to the wooden floor of the stage, and you know he sees how scared you are in your swirling irises filled with fright.

“And shall we go up to fifteen thousand? Any takers?” Garrett looks around the room and two hands go up, but you’re too tired to look to see who they are.

The bets continue, slowly climbing all the way to forty-five thousand dollars. An amount that is insane for a broken body who doesn’t even want to be breathing anymore.

Men scream and fight, shouting different prices, trying to win you over, making Garrett slam his fist down and sell you to the highest bidder. You don’t want to listen, don’t want to hear their rambling nonsense anymore. You just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. Maybe then you won’t feel any pain anymore. Maybe then you’ll find peace.

More chants and vulgar noises come from the men’s mouths, their hungry eyes glued to you, their lips smacking and fingers digging into the velvet of their seats. Some men adjust themselves in their fancy suits, tongues darting out, wetting their salivating lips. And it’s so disgusting that it makes you nearly vomit on the floor, but Angela would have your head for that. So you just stand there helplessly and wait because that’s all you can do.

You’re their ragdoll, and they can do whatever the fuck they want with you. You have no say and trying to fight would just make everything that much worse.

Minutes go by, ridiculous numbers flying around the room, the air stifling and sticky, your body fizzing with anxiety, a panic attack creeping up against the surface, threatening to take you down in mere seconds.

Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak…

“Sixty thousand dollars.” Your eyes dart up, panic flashing across your irises. You find a man you hadn’t seen in the very back, and you have to squint to make him out in the shadows of the corner of the room.

Your mouth nearly drops open at the amount he just said but apparently, these men are dripping with copious amounts of money.

You take a few seconds to assess him, your eyes glued to his large form against the velvet recliner he sits in, palms pressed firmly into the sunken arms of the chair. His body is broad, tensed, thick veins spidering down his tanned forearms, a black Rolex watch clasped to his left wrist. He’s clad in a white button-up shirt, black dress pants pressed against sculpted thighs. He’s dressed like all the other filthy rich men, but this one stands out amongst the rest. There’s just something about him that’s different.

He drags a heavy hand down his patchy scruff, greying threads shining under the dim light. His tousled sandy hair is slicked back, silver streaks giving away his older age. He looks to be in maybe his late forties, if that. A thick mustache hangs over his plush mouth, but what draws you in the most isn’t anything about his physical appearance but the way he’s looking at you. Soft, gentle brown eyes that have no violence swirling in them like the rest of the men. While the others look at you like a raw piece of meat, he doesn’t follow their lead. In fact, his gaze never hovers, never draws down your body. They just stay locked entirely on your eyes.

His eyes are soft, dark brown pools with honey flecks glittering in the darkness that surrounds you. They aren’t cold, unfeeling like the rest of the men’s are. They’re… soft. And that alone almost brings you to your knees in relief.

“Sixty-one thousand,” the spiky blonde hair challenges, piercing his icy blue eyes on you, making you want to hurl at the thought of that one winning you over.

“Sixty-two,” the mysterious man in the corner barters. Your eyes snap up to his until you hear Angela’s venomous words spew in your mind. Eyes on the ground unless you’re getting spoken to. Your gaze involuntarily falls to the polished wood, and you hear her click her tongue behind the fancy curtains. You’re nothing but a disappointment to her most days. Never perfect, always pathetic.

You bite your lower lip in panic, digging your heel as far into the floor as it’ll go, your nails biting into the palms of your hand, almost to the point of blood being drawn.

“Sixty-three!” The blonde pushes out of his chair angrily, his fists balled at his sides, getting frustrated with the man that challenges him.

Please, please, please. Don’t let him take me.

Praying was something you gave up on long ago but at this moment, you really have nothing left to hold on to. You can only silently beg for the man with brown eyes to win the bid.

“Sixty-five,” the brown-eyed man growls, his voice clipped and harsh, letting the blonde know he isn’t going to lose this fight. The blonde glares at him, anger fuming in his icy eyes, a deep snarl embedded in his mouth. You’re almost positive that’s how he’d look night after night hovering over your bed if he were the one to win, but you can’t think about that now. All you can do is wait.

“Do I hear sixty-six?” Garrett smiles, his eyes flicking between the two men who look like they’re about to duel in an old western shootout. You already know the brown-eyed man would win.

The blonde’s jaw ticks, and he holds back violence in his flexed fingers. After a few unbearable seconds of waiting, he slowly shakes his head and sits back down in defeat. “No. Guess he gets to take home and fuck the whore however he likes.”

Anger flashes over the broad man’s brown irises, and a murderous stare penetrates his gaze. He clenches a fist tightly, and a part of you thinks he may jump out of his seat and beat him to a bloody pulp, but he doesn’t. And for some reason, your breath is completely knocked from your lungs.

The deep boom of Garrett’s tone makes you jump from surprise, stirring you from your deep thoughts. “And sold, to the man at the back of the house! Congratulations. You got our rarest gem tonight. Aren’t you so lucky.”

The brown-eyed man’s jaw clenches for just a second, but he relaxes it instantly. Walking up to the front of the room, he throws on his pressed black jacket, straightening it as he walks past the deranged men, following Garrett as he leads him to the side where he’ll transfer the money and make it official. You’re his now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Angela grabs your elbow harshly, pinching skin and drags you off the stage. She should be happy you just got sold, but she’s still acting like you belong to her. “Look at you getting fought over. You just earned me a shiny paycheck. But don’t forget your place, brat. You’re just a body to these men, and you’re here to please them. Sex is what they want, and your new master will surely punish you even more than all the other men at the house did to you.”

A sick feeling twists up your stomach, threatening to empty your lunch remains from yesterday on the floor, right on top of her shiny stilettos, but you wouldn’t dare. She’d probably kill you herself before your new buyer even got you in the car.

Suddenly, you realize you won’t have to deal with her backhanded remarks or abusive commands anymore. No more late nights of being held down on the ground and no more non consensual touching from strangers.

A feeling like freedom washes over your senses, relieving you of some tension, but you won't be truly free. Not really because you just got sold, and you know nothing about this man. Even if his eyes were kind doesn’t mean that’s who he really is. Men pretend with you all the time.

When she pushes you up the stairs that lead to the back of the room, the blonde stands and blocks your way, an angry leer in his eyes while he skims his gaze down your exposed body. Something like panic and sickness stir inside you, an unwelcome hand brushing over your bare thigh, his hand sliding higher under your short skirt. Angela just stands back and lets him take advantage, and you have nowhere to run.

“Well, looks like I won’t be taking you home after all, but I’m sure your new master won’t mind sharing you before you leave, right?” A sly smirk curls against his thin lips, his eyes smoldering with ice and mischief, making you feel extremely small in the moment.

“I don’t think..”

“Shut up, whore,” he silences you, wrapping a tight arm around your waist, snaking his hand higher and higher, brushing his fingertips over the thin material of your lacy thong. Anxiety floods your senses, panic taking over. You try to pull away, but he just presses you tighter against his body.

Where the fuck is he? Where is your master? You’re not supposed to be touched after being bought, at least not by another man. Unless it’s agreed upon by him explicitly.

He skims across the outer edge of your lace, his slimy fingers feeling like hot lava boiling you alive. You want to run, hide, scream into his twisted face, but you have no more fight in you. You’re paralyzed by fright and right now, Angela doesn’t give a single fuck if one of these sick freaks pins you against the floor and takes advantage of you.

Right when you feel a warm teardrop leak from your eyes and a long finger pull against the thin fabric, a loud smack echoes around the room, and his body is thrown to the ground, blonde hair flitting across your peripheral vision. Your eyes blow wide when you realize what just happened. Your new master just punched the blonde man’s nose and tackled him to the floor, and you can’t stop staring in complete shock.

“What the fuck man! What was that for?” The blonde tenses up and pinches his broken nose where blood is spewing on the floor in a thick pool, staining the black cuffs of his suit.

“Mine,” he growls protectively, shoving him once more for good measure. He pulls himself up from the floor and straightens his button-up, ticking his jaw and scowling at the coward lying in pain on the floor.

Your jaw goes slack, and your heart thunders impossibly fast in your chest at what just happened. He saved you from getting taken advantage of. Why would he do that? You should thank him, but you’re stunned in silence.

He gives you a once over to make sure you’re unharmed and when he’s content, he tips his head toward the open door, signaling for you to follow. “C’mon.” It’s all he says, but you follow nonetheless, desperate to get out of this cesspool.

You take one more glance back at the carnage of the room, collecting the memory of the blood red curtains and taking the fancy velvet seats to your grave. The reflective mirrors make you gag, and the wooden stage makes your legs shake at the implication of what it means to be up on that high platform. It makes you sick to your stomach.

You were just auctioned off and hopefully, you’d never have to step foot into this room ever again.

Trailing after him, you stay close. Close enough to inhale the woodsy cologne that drips off his body. You don’t know why, but there’s an odd comfort in the scent. Like fresh pines and a brisk fall day. Something you haven’t got to experience since… you can’t even remember now.

The guards at the front let you pass, and it’s almost like it’s a trick. Just one more step and they’d be dragging you back by the crown of your head, not even sorry for ripping strands from your skull. You tense up and wait, but nothing happens. They just let you go. And suddenly, tears are pooling in your vision.

You wipe away the evidence, afraid your new master will scold you for shedding a tear. Maybe he wouldn’t, but you have so much trauma embedded in you that it’s like it’s an automatic response.

Back at the house, Angela would smack you across the cheek if she caught you crying for any reason. She always said tears were a weakness, and she wouldn’t have one of her girls going into a man’s room looking like a train wreck. So even crying brings out the trauma responses. You fucking hate that you can’t show emotion without getting a whiplash of her snide demands.

You’re broken, and you don’t think you’ll ever be repairable.

The air is chilly, a full moon hanging high in the night sky, bright stars blinking every couple of seconds behind grey clouds. The trees are mixed with a swirl of colors: yellows, oranges, deep reds that remind you of the shed blood back at the house.

You shake your head out of the fog and focus on the smell of fresh air and a hint of spice. It has to be the end of September or October. Maybe November? God, you don’t even know what month it is or where the hell you are. This isn’t home. Not anywhere close at all. You know because there’s no deep green mountains or endless forests in sight. Home is nowhere to be found…

The tall man walks you to a dark black Chevy, unlocking the passenger door and opening it wide for you. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t even offer you a hand. He just stares at you with a slight tick to his jaw, tilting his head to signal you forward. Your body responds in an instant.

You climb in, feeling the cool leather on your exposed skin, pulling on the bottom of your dress to cover yourself more, but it barely even moves an inch. It’s no use trying. He’ll probably have your dress ripped off in less than an hour. You’re surprised you even made it this far without him pinning you down to your hands and knees.

Shaking the sick images from your mind, you let the invading thoughts float far away as he closes the passenger door. He wouldn’t do that to you. He’s not like those other men. He couldn’t be. He attacked a man for you, but maybe it’s just because he doesn’t like other men touching his property.

That’s what you are. Property. That’s all you’ll ever be.

It doesn’t take him long to appear in the driver’s seat, clicking his seatbelt into place and turning the key in the ignition, letting the rumble of the engine rev to life. You sit back in the passenger seat and try to breathe, letting air pool into your tight lungs.

The inside of the truck may be warm, but your body is freezing just thinking of what that blue-eyed demon was going to do to you back there. Panic consumes your insides, making you violently shake in your seat. Your eyes gloss over and then you feel as if you drown in a frozen lake, frostbite making its way across your flushed skin.

“Whoa, easy there. S’alright now. You’re alright,” he coos, quickly throwing off his jacket and wrapping you in the warmth, draping your arms through the long sleeves and bundling up inside the blanket-like material.

Warm. It’s so warm and for the moment, your body relaxes just enough to relieve yourself of the onslaught panic attack. Your erratic breathing shortens, and then you can finally think clearly again, breaking away from the thick fog.

Your eyes flick over to his, and there’s nothing but pure concern laced in his golden-brown irises. “You alright?” The question confuses you, and you stare blankly his way. There’s nothing hostile or violent in his eyes. They’re just… soft. Like they were back in the auction room. The first time you stared into anything remotely warm since you were taken.

He lifts an eyebrow in question, and you finally register that he wants you to answer. “Mhm,” is all you can muster out, your words lodged deep in the back of your throat. Men don’t ask you how you’re feeling, so why is he?

He looks at you for another beat, nodding his head once before you drop your gaze back to your lap like the submissive you should be. Don’t make eye contact. That’s showing control, and you’re not in control. Angela’s taunting words will follow you to the grave, you just know it.

He looks like he wants to say something else, but he holds his tongue and lets the truck roll to the long gravel road ahead.

A sudden realization hits you like a car crash. No more Angela, no more Garrett, no more assaulters crowding your broken body. You’re free. Of them, at least. But your new master? Not so much.

The ride is silent apart from the soft rumble of the truck, tires spinning along the quiet road, moonlight shining through the tinted window, reflecting shiny stars in the side mirrors. You haven’t been outside in months, and the sight of a clear night sky makes you want to burst into tears.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” His deep, soothing voice lilts into your ears, and you gulp at the sweet nickname he uses.

Sweetheart. The men back at the house only called you crude, filthy names. Slut, whore, and bitch were their favorites. But no one ever called you sweetheart. Not ever.

You take a deep breath in before you speak, afraid your vocal cords will shred apart the moment you tell him what it is. But when he looks over at you all soft again, you break. You tell him your name quietly and avert your gaze back down to your pale thighs.

Your name rolls off his tongue like honey, and you can’t help but fight the tug of a smile curling over your lips. He said your name and for once in your life, a little part of you clicked back together.

Bravery seeps into your body, and you cautiously peek up and ask something you’ve wondered since you saw his dark brown eyes in the corner of the room. “And your name?”

His gaze flicks over to you, and for a moment you think his hand might fly out and smack you across the face. You flinch, remembering the sting of every hit your abusers marked you with. Your palm mechanically brushes over your cheek, and you swear you can feel the bright red welts they’d leave on your tainted skin.

The muscles in his jaw tick as he watches you, assessing your shaky movements. It’s like he can see the pain deep down in your soul, and you don’t understand why he’d care about that.

He clears his throat and answers, his eyes attentive to the dark road ahead. “Joel Miller.”

You don’t know what to answer to that, so you stay quiet and lean against the window, looking out into the thick fog of darkness.

After he sees you trying to decipher your surroundings, his thick Southern drawl fills the quiet. “Do you know what month it is?”

“No,” you answer solemnly, eyes still focused on the blurring background as the truck drives on.

“Do you know what state you’re in?”

“No,” you shake your head, eyes closing for less than two seconds.

He sighs, and you see him drag a hand slowly through his scruff. “It’s the middle of October. You’re in Texas. Jus’ a little north of Austin. That’s where we’re headed now. Jus’ about forty minutes away.”

Texas? Well, that’s a very very long way from home. But you don’t have a home anymore, so what does it matter?

“Oh.”

“Home,” he says hesitantly. “Is it anywhere close to here for you?”

You swallow back a lump in your throat and shake your head no, curling in on the warm jacket that envelopes your tired body.

When you don’t speak again, Joel flicks his eyes slowly to you, his thumb tapping quietly against the leather steering wheel. “Where’s home at, sweetheart?”

You flinch at the endearing name. It sounds like a knife dragging down a dirty chalkboard if you’re being honest with yourself. You’re nothing but a dirty slut. And that’s exactly what he should be calling you. Not sweetheart, not baby, just… slut.

When the truck comes to a halt at a dimly lit stop sign, he looks over once more at you, his eyes a dark shade of chocolate. “Washington,” is all you can muster up, thinking you owe him an answer. You can’t even say Seattle without the word getting stuck in your throat.

His eyes widen and something like softness resides deep in his warm irises. “You’re an awfully long way from home, aint ya?”

Quiet. His voice is too quiet, too… sad. And you don’t know what to take that as.

Tears swim up to the surface, pooling in the corners of your eyes, but you hold them back. Don’t show him you’re weak. “I don't have a home anymore…”

His mouth turns down in a tight-lipped frown, and he looks so defeated that you can’t quite understand why he would be. He doesn’t care about you. He never will. He’ll bleed you dry until you have nothing left. That’s what Angela said. And it’s ingrained like a sickness that won’t leave your body. Permanent damage that’ll leave scars like the ones that etch the back of your raised skin.

You’re nothing but a vacant body to use.

“What about your family? They must be lookin’ for you.”

Your fingers dig into the silk of your dress, and you almost let them tear right through. “I don’t have a family,” you whisper quietly.

You feel his careful stare waver over you, but you don’t have the energy to look up. “No? Surely someone’s lookin’ for you. They have to be. A girl like you—”

“A girl like me what?” you snap, quick to pull back your reins. The last thing you want to do is get backhanded from talking too loudly.

“Take it easy now,” he presses, his voice gentle and soothing. Almost enough to consume some of your sadness. “ All I’m sayin’ is someone has got to be searchin’ for you. Your parents?”

You bite your bottom lip hard, chewing the glossy skin that’s marked with invisible bruises. “My parents are dead.”

Silence carves through the inside of the moving vehicle, but you hear the faint whisk of shock leave his mouth. “Oh. I’m… fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

“How could you have? You don’t know me,” you shrug, leaning closer against the smooth interior of the door, your head resting against the cool window that’s doused in fog and sorrow.

“Well, I’m tryin’, sweetheart. I really am. Do you have anyone else? Maybe an uncle or cousin or—”

“No,” you interrupt. “They’re all gone… I have nothing.”

His hands clench tight over the steering wheel, his knuckles turning ghost white, and his jaw ticks like something just deeply upset him. Your eyes fall back to your thighs, but you can feel the weight of his body tightening up against the back of the seat.

He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t ask you any more questions. There’s just a thick silence that encompasses the cool air. And the only thing that keeps you warm now is the comfortable jacket that envelops you like a tight hug. A hug you desperately need. But you don’t want to be touched.

Not now, not ever again…

You’re almost fading off to sleep, the minutes ticking down painfully slow, but the rustle of gravel stirs you enough to where your eyes snap open in surprise. You gulp at the view in front of you. A large, lavish house with floor to ceiling windows and expensive wood panelling.

Your eyes peel to the thick brush of trees that expand into darkness behind the giant house. And for just a second, you feel like running far far away into the expanse of darkness. Maybe it’d swallow you whole till you were nothing but a ghost beneath the ground.

The truck finally comes to a halt and then the engine cuts off. Your body hums with electricity. The kind that threatens to strike you dead. Joel unlocks the truck with a click, and he tilts his head toward the house. “C’mon. Follow me.”

Your body hesitates, but the anxiety of lagging behind and getting punished sends you nearly jumping from your seat and out the door of the truck. Your feet hit gravel and you follow silently behind him, eyes fixed to the grass as your high heels click after him.

You feel like a puppet he’s strung behind him, your limbs moving without your permission. But he hasn’t done anything to you, so why are you panicking? And then your shoulders hunch with knowing. It’s the trauma that’s engraved like permanent ink from a tattoo deep inside your skin.

You’ll never be able to escape it. Not even when you’re dead and gone.

When you get to the front double doors, he slips a key in and turns, pushing it open with the flick of his wrist. Your eyes blow wide when you enter the massive house. A sparkling chandelier hangs high above the entryway. A marble staircase sits to the right side of what looks to be the living room. Polished wood covers every inch of the flooring. Exposed beams fill the ceiling, and the white painted walls don’t seem to have a speck of dirt on any of the surfaces.

It’s only a two story house, but it seems much bigger than that. Well over three thousand square feet. But the earthy textures and wooden trimmings of the house make it seem less like a prison and more like a, dare you say, home.

Home. This is your home now. And whether you’re happy about it or not, there’s not much you can do. Your body tells you to run, but there’s a tiny slither of a voice inside you that says you’re safe.

Safe. A word that means nothing anymore. You haven’t been safe in over a year, and a part of you thinks you’ll never be again…

“C’mon. I’ll show you where your room is.”

You stop in the middle of the entryway, your brow furrowed at his sentence. “My room?”

He nods. “Yes, your room.” He reiterates the word your, saying it like it’s spelled out in capital letters. You think he does it for your sake, to let you know again that this is a safe place.

“You mean I don’t have to sleep in your room…” Your voice betrays you. Fear and panic flooding your eyes at the thought of having to be forced into another man’s bed. You quickly shake the awful memories from your thoughts, afraid to slip into another panic attack.

His jaw clenches up, but his eyes soften into warm pools of brown when he sees the distress in your wide eyes. “No, darlin’. Not gonna make you do that.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster out. That’s… new.

He nods his head to the staircase, and you take that as your cue to follow. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t put his hand on the small of your back, doesn’t make you go first so he can stare up your dress. And you can’t decipher why he bought you in the first place.

Maybe he’s waiting till later to snatch you away into his room, maybe drag you to the floor and climb on top of you. The flashbacks make you sick to your stomach, and you’re having a hell of a time keeping it all inside.

You distract yourself with the rustic art that hangs on the pristine walls, reflecting off the marble staircase you climb. Pictures of deer, horses, shiny lakes, deep green forests, like the ones in Washington, scatter around the walls in various shapes. And it calms the anxiety that’s rolling like a violent storm through your mind.

A long, dimly lit hallway stands at the top of the steps, another sits on the opposite side of the long archway that overlooks a grand living room, leather couches, and a grand piano sitting in the left corner, right next to a picturesque window that overlooks a sea of trees. It’s just as lavish as other men’s homes, the ones where they’d throw parties for all their friends to indulge in the trafficked girls, but this one doesn’t feel like that at all, strangely.

His low timbre pulls you out of the fog, and you find him standing by an open door, the first one on the left. “This is where you’ll be stayin’ at.”

You follow him into the room and gasp at what lies ahead of you. A queen-sized bed with clean white sheets and a light purple comforter sits in the middle of the room, some new clothes folded neatly on the edge of the bed. A walk-in closet sits to the left side of the room, and it looks to be fully stocked with a colorful array of shoes and clothes that still have their tags connected to the material. To the right is a large bathroom that smells like fresh roses and fragrant perfume, but you’re too stunned to walk in and see. The walls are painted in soft muted colors, and the lilac curtains drape loosely over the expansive back window. You almost cry when you see a sea of dark trees in the distance. They remind you of home.

You miss Washington, you miss when you had a home, you miss having a family…

“I bought you some clothes. Hopefully they fit alright. If not then I can get you more, but I’m hopin’ you feel comfortable in them.”

Your fingertips trace over the soft material of the various shades of t-shirts, hoodies, sweatpants, and shorts, your brain muted and fuzzy because there’s not a gown or short dress in sight anywhere in the room. That’s all you wore back at the house, all you know how to wear. And the sight of comfortable, unrevealing clothes makes your eyes glossy with tears.

You feel his weight shift behind you, but yet he still stands more than a foot back, not daring to touch you. You should thank him, get down on your knees and show him just how much you appreciate this, but you can’t. Because the thought of that makes you want to throw yourself over the lavish wood railing of the staircase. Angela would be so disappointed in you.

When you say nothing, he clears his throat and then you turn to face him. “You must be starvin’. Let me go fix you something. You like chicken?”

Your jaw drops, and you’re stunned silent from the ask. He’s asking if you like chicken?

He gives you a minute to respond, but all you can squeak out is, “What?”

“Do you like chicken?” His voice comes out softer, more tender. Why isn’t he raising his voice? Why isn’t he smacking you across the cheek for taking too long to answer him?

“I—I… yes,” you finally whisper out, your eyes glued to the shine of his polished boots.

“Okay then. It’s settled. I’ll get something fixed up real quick. You can come down when you’re ready. Jus’ please, feel free to wear what you want. Find something comfortable, whatever it may be. All these clothes are yours now. I imagine you wanna get out of that dress you’re in.” His eyes flick down to your midnight blue dress for just a second, but he doesn’t lock his eyes on your body. No. There’s a flash of something like hurt in his deep brown eyes.

You tug his fancy black jacket further around you, letting its warmth wrap you tight to keep away the flashbacks of grabbing hands and torn shreds of material on the floor while your body was torn apart…

“Hey.” His mellow voice breaks you away from the nightmarish thoughts. “You okay?” A deep wrinkle furrows against his tanned forehead, and something like concern washes down his soft brown eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum, suddenly realizing you’re still wearing his jacket. You quickly shed it and try to hand it off to him, afraid he’d rip it from your body if you kept it on for too long.

He presses a palm out to stop you and just shakes his head, a tousled curl escaping the gel in his slicked back sandy hair. “Keep it.”

Your outstretched arm falls to the side and so does the jacket to the floor. He pays no mind to it falling to the ground, not even flinching when it hits the plush carpet. Why didn’t he scold you for dirtying up his things?

“I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll let you have some space. And please, take your time.” He turns and walks out the door, letting it shut softly. And then you’re all alone, in a strange place that’s now yours.

Your eyes don’t lift till he’s gone, a bad habit that’s been ingrained into your very core. You’re not supposed to look them in the eye, not unless they say. But Joel? He doesn’t tell you to keep your eyes on the ground.

Slowly casting your eyes away from the cream carpet, you find yourself at the edge of the bed again, your fingertips hovering over a pair of grey sweats and a navy t-shirt. Turning around to make sure the door is still closed, you quickly peel off the midnight blue dress that’s tainted from dirty hands and prying eyes. You let it fall to the floor in a messy heap and throw on the large t-shirt and comfy sweatpants.

Looking at your bare arms, you decide it’s not enough, so you find a dark grey jacket deep in the closet and zip it up to the very top, so no exposed skin or scars are left to be seen by his dark eyes. You still feel completely bare, even with a pair of long pants and a long sleeved jacket. But that’s because in the last year, even if you did have actual clothes on, they were just torn away and ripped apart, and you have the scars to prove it.

Carefully bending down and picking up the wadded up dress, you smooth it out and run your fingers over the sheer material, almost tempted to put it back on because that’s what you should be wearing. Not some oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. You don’t look presentable, not in these clothes. You should always dress to entertain the men, always have your hair perfect and your makeup just right, always have a smile on your face and say thank you for every single thing they do to you…

Your body starts to shake violently as you look up to find yourself standing in the reflection of the closest mirror, the mini dress held up to your body, fingers curling over the muddled memories of dinner parties that ended with you and other innocent girls face down on the table with your legs spread.

Your bottom lip trembles as you look at the twenty-seven-year-old girl staring back in the mirror. You don’t recognize her anymore. Stained blood red lips and long wavy curls, your eyeliner smudging, and the dark creases beneath your eyes telling you just how exhausted and battered your body is. You’re wrecked. Completely and utterly shattered, torn to shreds. And you just don’t know how you’ll ever find yourself again. Because the girl you knew before is long gone. And now? Now you just feel… lost.

The tears that pool in your eyes fall like raindrops that pelt the outside window, your body humming with anxious thoughts and a blur of emotions. And the dress burns like fire beneath your palms; every second you hold it brands another forgotten memory into your brain, and then you just crack like shattered glass.

You tear the dress to shreds, taking out all your anger and resentment on the sheer material, pulling it apart till it’s only unrecognizable scraps on the floor. And you let your tears soak them, stain them just like every single one of those men did to your body. Even Angela.

You hate them, you hate yourself, you hate the way they made you feel. Useless and disgusting, a piece of meat they could chew on whenever they pleased.

You spend the next half hour crying over what you did, regretting ruining the dress, the one thing you could’ve kept with you, a fragile memory that you should’ve held on to. But that wouldn’t be healing to you. But at this rate, you don’t think you ever will heal.

You forget about dinner, forget where you even are. Joel had to come get you and lead you down to the kitchen. And yet, he still didn’t touch you. Not even once. And you just don’t understand why he won’t touch you. Not that you want to be touched. You don’t. You just expect it now.

When you finally make it to the kitchen, you decide on a black barstool and take your place there at the sleek kitchen island that’s swirled in shiny white quartz. And when he sets a warm plate of chicken Alfredo noodles and a glass of cold water in front of you, you just stare with wide-eyes at the hot meal before you.

The savory Alfredo dinner taunts you as it sits right in front of you, screaming at you to just take one bite. Your stomach churns and rumbles with the scent of a put together homemade meal. When was the last time you had one of those? Maybe two years ago.

You keep your eyes peeled to the polished wooden floor, your fingers twisted tight against the sweatpants that hang loosely around your thighs. Your body is yelling at you to eat, but you can’t make yourself move, can’t do anything. You were never allowed carbs back at the house, wasn’t even allowed to eat until the men were done. Angela once pulled your hair and pushed your face into the floor when you dared to take a bite before they were finished. And now you can’t even get yourself to chance that again. Even if Joel never would, you feel as if Angela will come charging around the corner just waiting for you to make one wrong move.

You’re so very broken…

“What’s wrong? Do you not like it? I can make you something else.” Joel’s voice is etched in concern, but you only have the strength to shake your head.

“No. It’s fine. It’s—it’s great. It’s just…” Your breath is shaky, just like your hands. And you can’t seem to look up from the floor.

Don’t ever look them in the eyes. You’re not in control. You have no power. You flinch at Angela’s spiteful words. You wish you could just drown them out, forget everything she ever taught you.

“You haven’t even touched your food, sweetheart.” A tear licks at the corner of your eye, but you don’t dare let it fall.

“I—uhh. I…” You’re pathetic. You can’t even look him in the eye at the table. Not even when he’s standing across from you, staring at you with those soft brown eyes you know are boring into yours.

“Can you look up for me, sweetheart?” The pain in his deep timbre cracks something inside you, and your eyes snap up to meet his. “There ya go. Attagirl.” You wince at the word because it sounds like praise, and you don’t deserve that at all. You deserve to be scolded.

“Wanna tell me why you’re not eating?” You choke on your voice when you see those soft brown honey eyes. You’ve never been looked at quite like that. Not with kindness or concern or anything genuine before. And it makes you want to cry.

You take a deep, steady breath and pray you can muddle some coherent words out because you’re about to spill something very personal that you’re not quite ready to share. “Back at the house… they wouldn’t let us eat until the men were done. We—we’d get punished if we disobeyed.” You flinch at the painful memories but press on. “We weren’t allowed to eat carbs. And some days they’d just starve us to teach us a lesson. I can’t even remember the last time I had a decent meal…”

Joel’s fingers flex against the sink, his nails digging into the metal, his jaw clenched and something like pain and understanding lit up in his honey-colored eyes. He looks like he actually feels your pain, and you can’t comprehend how he’d possibly know what that pain is like.

He nods his head and darts his tongue along his bottom lip in response. “I uhh—Jesus. I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s fuckin’ awful. I can’t imagine how that must’ve been. But please, eat. You’re allowed to eat anything you want now. You want sweets, sugar, greasy pizza? Then it’s yours. You’re allowed to eat in peace here. There’s no rules in this house. I want you to be able to eat. So please, don’t ever wait for me. You jus’ go on and enjoy.”

It takes you a couple of minutes to find enough courage to pick up the silver fork, but you do it. And that right there is a step in the right direction.

The first bite slides down your throat slowly and when you swallow, it’s like a slice of heaven to your insides. You quickly take another, devouring the delicious noodles, letting the savory taste melt against your tastebuds, groaning silently at what a real meal should taste like. It’s not cold soup or oatmeal or dry lettuce. It’s actual food.

You somehow forget Joel is watching, and it takes you two whole seconds until your cheeks are burning with embarrassment. He’s looking straight at you, watching you enjoy from a safe distance, and you swear you see a small smile curled against his lips. He hasn’t even touched his food. All he seems to care about is that you’re eating. And that makes you feel extremely guilty.

You take a paper napkin and wipe the Alfredo sauce from your lips, letting the red lipstick smear across the napkin, suddenly fully aware you just ruined your makeup.

Flashbacks of getting slapped across the face course through your body, making you sick to your stomach. Don’t smear your makeup, filthy little slut. Go back to your room and make yourself presentable before our guests arrive. Another sharp smack stings your cheek, and you find yourself cradling your cheek like it just now happened to you.

Panic blindly traces every inch of your body, anxiety creeping in as your heart palpitates at an alarming pace. You ate without Joel, you didn’t wait, you ruined your makeup. Oh God, you’re in so much trouble. Safe. You’re not safe. You need to run, you need to…

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Joel’s concerned voice whips through your mind, and that’s enough for you to drop your fork in alarm on the floor, your eyes wild with fright.

You’re not safe, you’re not safe, you’re not safe. He’ll hurt you. Run.

You pull back the barstool and stand, your back tense and fingernails digging into the kitchen island. “W—Why are you being nice to me? Why did you cook for me? Why aren’t you starving me?!”

His body tenses, just like yours, and his eyes swim with concern. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s all gonna be jus’—”

“Why aren’t you using me? Use me! Tell me to spread my legs, tell me to get on my knees, tell me I’m worthless!” You scream, letting your voice echo around the clean kitchen, feeling as if your panic attack might take you out this time around.

“No.” His voice is careful, quiet, not at all stern.

“No?” you mewl, feeling the tears prick the back of your eyes.

“No,” he repeats, softer than before.

Your hands shake, and you need to find something to hold to soothe your whirring anxiety. So you grab the glass that’s half full of water. “Use me! Tell me I’m nothing! Tell me I don’t matter!”

He shakes his head slowly, his eyebrows knit together in rapt attention, eyes crinkling. “You do matter. Don’t for a second think that you’re—”

“Just fucking use me!” You slam the glass to the floor, letting it shatter into tiny pieces just like your heart looks like. Broken and fractured. You fall to the floor, crying out when a piece slices through your palm, letting the pain serenade your insides, reminding you of all the times you saw red back at the house.

The tears splash against your cheeks, falling to the floor like droplets from a waterfall. But you can’t find the strength to let them stop. You’ve held them in for so long; there’s no more room to keep them tucked away inside.

Your eyes widen when you realize the mess you made. You broke his belonging, completely shattered it in pieces. He should have your fucking neck for this, and you cower just thinking of the beating he might give you. “Oh my God. The glass. Fuck, the glass. I’m so… s—sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…” You frantically try to pick the pieces up, but all you do is tear another cut open in the same palm. And now blood stains the dark wood. Fuck.

Joel’s at your side in a second, kneeling beside you, trying to calm you down the best he can without alarming you. “Shhh. S’alright. It’s fine. I don’t care about the broken glass.”

“But I made a mess. I broke your belongings. And I should be punished. I should…” Your voice fades off as the tears blur your vision, completely breaking you just like the scattered shards of glass that surround you.

He shakes his head slowly and places his palm flat on the ground, so close but yet so far from brushing against you. “No. Don’t think for one minute you deserve that, sweet girl. Don’t for one fuckin’ minute believe any of that. S’not true. None of it is.”

“But—but I… No, I—I can fix this. I can clean this up, I can…” Your words come out jumbled and muddled, and the panic still writhes high throughout your body, making you want to crawl out of your scarred skin.

“Sweetheart, shhh. S’alright. I promise I’m not here to harm you. Jus’ let me clean you up. Your hand. Jus’—let me help you. Please.” His voice is calm, collected, and you have a hard time looking up because you know those deep brown eyes will only make you cry harder.

You feel his fingertips brush against your wrist, and you jolt back in panic, eyes wide with retaliation. “Don’t—don’t touch me,” you choke, whining as another piece of glass digs into your hand like a knife carving its way deep into your bones. It fucking hurts, but you’ve taken worse. You can manage the pain.

He lifts his arms in the air like he’s surrendering, showing you he means no harm. But your body doesn’t know the difference anymore. All you’ll ever know is how to continue to take the pain.

“Please. I promise I ain’t gonna hurt you. Let me take care of your hand. Let me help you.” He draws out the last word, the syllables dragging like sweet honey across his tongue. And he sounds genuine like he really does want to help you.

You have no more fight left in you, no energy to give. So all you do is nod your head and whisper out a defeated, “Okay.”

“C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s get you up off the floor.” He scoops you up in his arms, cradling your head in the palm of his hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re staining his white button-up red. If he does, he doesn’t say anything about it.

Your body revolts against his touch, but he’s so warm that you don’t fight it. He smells like firewood and scented pine trees, and that’s enough to keep you calm in his arms. You just nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and let your tears stain the dark stubble of his patchy beard.

“There ya go. Easy now. You’re alright,” he coos gently, lulling you into a calm state.

You’re freezing cold, even underneath the layers of clothes that wrap like thick vines around your body. But somehow, the warmest thing right now is being in his arms...

You’re completely and utterly vulnerable but just for a second, you relax into his strong arms and breathe in the mahogany scent of him. The man that got you out before you completely shattered. For just this moment, you give in to what you really need. Warmth and safety.

He feels safe.

And for the next couple of minutes that it takes for him to get you across the house and up the stairs, you fade into his warmth, blocking out every single panicked and anxious thought. For just those few seconds, you breathe, letting the unruly voices in your mind die out.

For just that minute, you’re safe.

You come back to yourself the moment he sets you down on a white step stool, warily telling you to hold still, your palm open over the bathtub, blood running down the porcelain material, staining the walls with the crimson of your stupid mistakes.

You did this. Your fault, all your fault. You should have never broken the glass, should’ve never lashed out, but you did. And you guess this is how you’ll always be now. A hollow body that just doesn’t know how to live a normal life anymore.

You wince as Joel drags the washcloth slowly over your open wound, tears swimming in your eyes the more he tries to assess it, searching for any pieces of glass that may be stuck deep in your hand. And you don’t know why he’s doing this after you had a meltdown because he wouldn’t make you pleasure him. What the fuck is wrong with you? Is this how your brain just operates now? After being stuck in that god awful house, this is what it does to you?

You don’t want to be used anymore. You don’t even want to be fucking touched by a man ever again. So why did it hit a nerve after he refused to tell you that you were nothing?

“Ouch,” you whine, tensing as he washes the open wound with soap and water, apologizing each time he goes over the sore area.

“M’sorry. Jus’ hold on, I’m almost done. Good news is I don’t see any glass in your cut. S’good. Means I can jus’ clean you up and wrap it for tonight. Might be sore for a couple days, but you’ll be fine,” he assures you, working meticulously to fix you up.

You flinch each time his calloused fingers brush against your hand, struggling to not push him away. You don’t want to be touched by anyone, especially not by a man. But you can’t shake how warm he felt when he was carrying you to your room. He wasn’t mean, wasn’t rough, wasn’t even hostile. He was just… gentle. Just like he’s being now with each careful graze of his fingertips to your fragile skin.

And even though ninety percent of you can’t stand the thought of him being this close to you, you don’t seem to hate him. Not even a little bit. Because whether you want to admit it or not, he saved you.

You don’t trust him, you don’t trust anyone. He could turn on you in a second, show you his true colors. But again, he would’ve already done that. Wouldn’t he?

“How old are you, sweetheart?” he asks, carefully drying your cut with a clean towel.

“Twenty-seven,” you whisper out, wincing once more from the pressure on your palm.

“And your birthday? When’s that?”

You watch his brown eyes flick up to yours, and your gaze drops immediately back to your lap. “January 22nd.”

He takes a minute before the next question comes, diligently wrapping your hand in a gauze padding. “How long you been gone now? Do you know?”

You chew on your bottom lip and hold back a tear, trying your best not to fall apart all over again. “A little over a year and a half…” you respond in a muffled tone. “I wouldn’t have even known my birthday passed. But they—they were sure to remind me. Because I was—I was…” you can’t even finish your sentence without a tear slipping down your cheek, holding on for that sliver of sanity you have buried deep inside you.

His brown eyes gloss over into a deeper shade of brown, and his eyebrows furrow in concern as he stops what he’s doing so he can put his full attention on you. You decide to finish your sentence, needing to get it out of your system. Hoping it’d be a way to forget as soon as the words left your tongue. “They—they had me bent over a table the entire day while a vanilla cake with the numbers twenty-seven taunted me while they ate it in front of me. And then they—-they…” a sob chokes you up, and tears trail like rain down your face, landing on top of Joel’s hand that sits atop his knee.

“Hey, hey, hey. S’alright, sweetheart. You don’t have to talk ‘bout it if you don’t want to. I’m—fuck. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I jus’ can’t imagine what sick fuck would do that to you or any girl at that. I’m so sorry.” His deep voice is full of pity and heartache, and his chocolate eyes make you want to cry even more.

You dip your head in anguish and sigh. “Yeah, me either. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I…”

He interrupts you, hovering his hand over yours like he wants to comfort you, but you flinch away at the notion. “Shh. No, sweetheart. You never ever deserved any of that. Not in the least bit.”

You scuff your bare feet against the tile floor, reaching for anything that might keep you from tipping past the breaking point, but you’re way over the edge. You’re all the way at rock bottom.

The searing question bubbles up again in your stomach. The one question you’ve been dying to know ever since he called out that number. And you can’t go another minute without knowing. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” he asks, an eyebrow arched in question.

“Why did you buy me? You could’ve left me with the blonde. You could’ve walked out empty handed.” Your voice is raised, but you keep your composure from sliding again, not wanting another broken glass incident.

“I wasn’t gonna do that,” he presses, his lips in a tight line, jaw ticking with a dark look in his eyes.

“You paid thousands of dollars for me. Why would you do that? Why didn’t you just—”

He stops you right there, a sad look blanketing his face. “‘Cause. My daughter, Sarah. She… she went through the same thing you did. And I couldn’t fuckin’ stand by and watch the same thing happen to you.”

Your lips part wide, and a gasp leaves your throat. His daughter was taken? “Oh.” That’s all you can say for the moment. You’re stunned in silence.

Holy shit.

You try to find one sliver of pretense, a glimmer in his eye that could prove he’s lying. But the way his face falls and his eyes drop to the floor in agony, like he’s in physical pain, you find no lie. He’s telling the truth.

“Is she still…”

“Yes,” he nods, eyes in a far off place. “She’s alive.”

“When did she…”

He takes a deep breath and flexes his hand over the side of the tub, holding on to something solid while he gets into the thick of what happened to his daughter. “She was taken young. She was only fifteen, taken right under my nose at the mall. She was just walkin’ to the bathroom. It took less than five minutes. And I—fuck. If I would’ve jus’ watched her walk in and stood outside the door. She would’ve never been taken in the first place…”

He drops his head in defeat, and you feel your eyes widen in shock. You don’t know what rushes over you, but the way his soft brown eyes tear up make yours do the same thing. “Joel?” you choke out, tears stinging against your lash line. “I’m—really sorry that happened. And as much as you might blame yourself, it wasn’t your fault.”

He looks up with teary eyes and a deep frown, nodding. “Wish I could come to terms with that. But… she made it out. I found her and got her out. And that’s what matters.”

“How old is she?” you ask quietly, your left hand brushing over your fresh bandage, careful not to tear the material.

“She’s twenty now. Livin’ down in Houston, startin’ her sophomore year of college, and workin’ as a part time vet tech at a clinic specializin’ in horses. She absolutely loves it,” he smiles, his eyes turning into a lighter brown the more he talks about how much she’s grown over the years, leaving behind her trauma.

“That’s incredible. More than incredible. Just—wow,” you breathe out, your eyes casted down to the floor, wishing you could heal like that. But at this rate, you don’t think you’ll ever get over the immense trauma that occurred to your body and mind.

He licks his bottom lip in thought, his eyes burning into yours. And you see it even out of the corner of your eye. He’s concerned for you. “It took her a long time to adjust back to a normal life. We had a rocky time there for ‘bout a year, but she got the help she needed. She was only gone a couple months, but that was more than enough time to give her PTSD and mentally scar her. But she’s shining now, finally at a place where normal life isn’t as scary as it used to be.”

Another tear slips free and splashes to the floor, creating a tiny puddle of your shattered heart that’s made of tears. “I’m so happy for her. Sarah sounds amazing.”

“Mmm, that she is. I’m gonna give you her number. Think it’d be good for you to connect with someone who’s been through something as traumatic as this.”

Your mouth gapes open, and you tilt your chin up until you come face to face with him. And he looks… kind. He is kind. “But I don’t have a phone anymore…”

“I’ve already got one ordered and on the way for you.”

“What?” you ask with wide eyes. He gives you a small smile that curls against his lips. And you nearly sob from the gentle way he’s looking at you. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. And I have a therapist on speed dial. Her name’s Tess. She’s the best of the best. If there’s one therapist I trusted with Sarah then it’s her. Trust me, Sarah went through a lot of them, and Tess was the most helpful. And she’s helped so many other girls, too. Not just Sarah.”

Other girls? Did he help get other girls out? You have so many questions. “Why are you doing all this for me?”

“‘Cause I wanna help you,” he states simply, his thumb tapping against the side of the tub, eyes focused right on you.

“But why? I’m… nothing,” you whisper, bottom lip quivering, afraid you’ll break down in tears once again. And you most likely will. You feel it deep in your bones.

He shakes his head in response. “Sweetheart, no. Don’t say that ‘bout yourself. You’re not nothing. You’re somebody, and you matter. Whether you believe it or not, you matter.” His words are definitive, final, but his voice is as soft as cotton candy.

“I… matter?” you ask, voice shaky from the kaleidoscope of emotions that pummels through you.

He nods, eyes alight and glittering under the bright bathroom lights, a soft smile curled on his lips. “Do you know what I saw when you were standin’ in the middle of that room tonight? I saw a young woman that was worth saving. I saw a light deep inside those pretty eyes of yours that was jus’ screamin’ for someone to hear you. I heard you. And I wasn’t gonna jus’ leave you there to be preyed on by those starvin’ wolves. So I got you out.”

You’re breathless, lips parted in awe. “But—but I…”

“Look. You may not be fine tomorrow or next week, but someday—someday you will be. And I’ll try my damn near hardest to make sure you are. And if you’ll let me, I’ll see that you’re kept safe. Whether you choose to leave next week or next month or in a year. I promise I’ll do what I can to make sure you feel safe and that you can learn to thrive in life again. Trust me when I say you will get there. Jus’ gotta take it one step at a time. That’s all you can do. One day at a time.”

Tears pool in your eyes, soaking them up like the promise of his words. I’ll keep you safe. He wants you to stay, to heal, to thrive. He’s trying to help you, and you just don’t know what you did to deserve his help, but you’re eternally grateful. And even though you’re scared, maybe you don’t have to be scared of him.

After he puts away the gauze and the bathroom supplies he used to clean your hand with, he lets you get settled into bed. But before he walks out, he raps his knuckles on the doorway and clears his throat. “My room is jus’ across the hall if you need anything. I’ll be up, so don’t hesitate if you need something.”

You nod your head, pulling the fluffy comforter up to your chin, too tired to give him a smile.

He tilts his head and starts heading out the door, but before he can turn the doorknob all the way, you call out. “Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums, turning his head, directing his full attention your way.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your eyes telling him everything that your words can’t.

He curls his lips into a half smile and nods. “Don’t mention it, sweetheart.” And when he walks out and closes the door, you hear him say, “Sleep tight.”

You want to know more about how he found Sarah, what he meant when he said he’s helped other girls before, how he found you in the first place. But you’re tired. You’re so fucking drained. Maybe tomorrow you’ll find the strength to pull yourself together and ask but not tonight. Tonight you just want a full night’s sleep. Something you haven’t had since you were taken. So you close your eyes, focus on the soft patter of rain on the window, put all your anxious thoughts to the side and drift into the dark depths of a sea of blackness.

And then you sleep.

Hot pain shoots through your wrists like a jagged knife splitting you open, painting you scarlet. Dirty fingernails shred your skin, clawing you until you taste blood in the back of your throat. You can’t speak, can only silently scream. A muted cry for help that no one else can hear but you. Chains fasten to your ankles, pulling your legs apart, grimy men surrounding you, suffocating you until you seep into the the blackest pit of despair.

Trapped. You’re held captive against your will, your body on full display, eyes wide with fright every time they snake their filthy hands around your throat, hot breath fanning against your core until you scream bloody murder over and over again.

But no one comes; no one saves you from this pit of hell.

Dead. You feel dead, and they just keep bringing you back from the grave with every touch they steal.

You thrash against the sheets, screaming for help, tears staining the brand new comforter, but you’re still trapped in the horrific nightmare with the demons of your past torturing you way beyond the point of pain.

“No, no, no! Get off!” you cry as you feel a body dip into the side of the bed, drastically trying to escape what’s to come. “Stop, stop!”

A voice. Deep, intense, wrecked sounds in your fuzzy mind, trying to grasp you out of your nightmare.

“Wake up. Wake up.” It’s muddled, almost unrecognizable. But it’s insistent, a loud gong that spirals into your racing mind.

“No, no, let go!” you mewl, twisting violently in the sheets when you feel the mattress dip down further, spiraling your thoughts further.

“Sweetheart, wake up. Please. You have to wake up!” He shouts, stirring you from your nightmare, but the men reach for you, dragging you back under the thrashing waves, but you extend your arm, fighting the tossing sea, battling the teeth that gnash at you.

“Stop, let go!” Your flesh stings as they continue to tear you apart, dragging you down down down until that sweet Southern drawl that sounds like honey resonates throughout your mind, and the fog starts to clear just a little.

“It’s me, I’m right here. Open your eyes, please!” Deep. That thick baritone voice crashes through your mind, pulling you away from all the insufferable noises.

Your eyes snap open, realizing you’re pounding your fists into his broad chest, barely making a dent because he’s that strong. And then your anxiety races, building horrific hallucinations in your mind. And you just keep throwing everything you have at Joel, tears spilling down your cheeks, your t-shirt drenched in a cold sweat.

“The men… They—they…” You choke out a sob, continuously throwing your arms against his chest, taking everything you have bottled up inside you and spilling it all over Joel, showing just how bloodied and bruised you are from the traumatic events.

The stage, the men, Angela, the blood, the torture, the misery, the deaths, the excruciating pain of it all. It’s too fucking much, and you just want to die. Maybe then you’ll be at peace, away from the weight of everything you’ve kept resting on your shoulders. Like a rock weighing down on your chest, crushing you till you’re nothing but dust. You feel like dust. Faded, dirty, and useless.

“S’alright, sweetheart. It was jus’ a nightmare. You’re safe,” he soothes, his calming voice bubbling up and taking some of the anxiety off your weighted chest.

“But it was real…” you choke out, your vision blurring with the salty water that forms in your eyes.

A tear slips free, crashing down to his hand, smothering it in cold, icy liquid. But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even back away. He just stays sitting next to you, careful not to touch you or reach for you. He’s just… there. And somehow there’s comfort in that.

He stares at you like a lost puppy, chocolate eyes melting, tears filling his own concerned eyes. And you keep hitting him, your hands growing tired from the balled up fists punching against his chest. And he just sits there and takes it, like it doesn’t bother him one bit.

“Let it out. Give me your pain. I can take it, sweetheart. You jus’ take it out on me. As long as you need. You want a punchin’ bag then let me be that for you. Whatever helps, you jus’ go on and let go,” he says softly, brows threaded together, big doe eyes consumed in pain. It’s like he’s as wrecked as you are, and that makes you cry even harder.

“Joel…” you break, dropping your tired arms to the bed, curling your fingers into the soft comforter, trying to lose yourself in the soft rain that pelts the back of the window.

You’re so tired and drained and ruined. They ruined you, and you hate every single one of them for taking away everything. Your dignity, your pride, your body, your life, your mind. They took everything.

“I know, sweet girl. I know. Shhh. S’alright. I’m right here. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore. Not while I’m here,” he whispers, his woodsy scent grounding you back to earth, calming you down just enough to focus on how soft his eyes are.

Soft. Just like velvet. He’s so soft.

He just sits there patiently, waiting for your cries to die down, waiting to know you’re okay. But you’re not okay; you never will be okay. You’re just a tree in a sea of thousands, but your branches are withered, leaves falling, and maybe you’ll never bloom again.

You focus on his soft brown eyes, the light tap of raindrops, your erratic breathing slowing to a normal pace. You’re so tired. Tired of fighting the panic attacks, the flashbacks, the pain.

You’re just… tired.

“You gonna be alright, sweetheart? Think you can get back to sleep?” he asks thoughtfully, his voice warm like a fresh cup of coffee, his scent permeating around the room, keeping you from spiraling again.

You take a deep breath and nod, pulling the comforter under your chin, trying to control the chill that runs down your spine. “I think so,” you say slowly, your voice still a little shaky.

He tilts his head and scratches the back of his neck, a tight-lipped smile forming over his lips. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to sleep then. You come knock on my door if you need me.”

When he pushes off your bed and pads over to the open door, he calls out and says, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Panic consumes your mind just thinking of being alone again with your nightmares, your body trembling underneath the warm sheets. And before you know what you’re thinking, you stop Joel in his tracks. “Joel?”

And just like before, he turns and arches a brow, questions reeling in his calm brown eyes. “Hmm?”

“Can you… would you mind staying with me? I just… I really don’t want to be alone.” Your voice is shaky and nerves pull through your body, but for some reason his presence just gives off that impression of safety.

You don’t trust him yet, not really. But he’s got the softest aura swirling around him, and you just know he won’t hurt you. He’s already proved that.

You’re safe…

He smiles, running a hand through his thick curls, his bicep flexing under the weight of the white t-shirt, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. You might’ve thought he was handsome under different circumstances, if your brain wasn’t ruined from trauma, but the only thing that seems to capture your attention is his soft brown eyes. The only kind ones that were in that auction room tonight.

“‘Course I will, sweetheart. Whatever makes you feel safe,” he says, walking over and sinking down into the champagne colored saucer chair by the open door, eyes locked on you.

You mold yourself to the cool mattress, the sheets wrapping loosely around your legs. You stare at him for a couple of minutes, using his woody scent to calm you down. He reminds you of Washington, of your favorite pine trees. He smells like home, when you had one. Tears line your lids, but you close your eyes and get lost in the rain, until your breathing is shallow and slow. And then you’re out like a light.

He keeps his eyes fixed on you, watching for any signs that you may be in distress. Every whimper and strangle against the sheets makes him jump up, ready to take you from your vicious nightmares, but they don’t come. Not like the one that had you screaming bloody murder, tears staining your pretty eyes.

Scared. You’re so very scared, fragile. Just like the glass that ripped you open, staining his white button-up crimson. He hates that that’s how they made you feel. Afraid of men, to be broken again. They took it all from you and he fucking hates them for it.

They hurt you, ruined you. It makes him sick to his stomach, makes him want to hunt down every single man who put their filthy hands on your sacred body. He’d chop their hands off so they could never touch you again, take a gun and end their pathetic lives. That’s what he did with Sarah’s kidnappers, when he found out who took his precious daughter. And he’d do it for you too. In fact, he’d search the whole goddamn map to wring the necks of any man who even thought of putting their filthy paws on you.

He’s not against violence, not when he spends half his time working to take down auctioneers and human traffickers. And the blonde man that tried to violate you tonight would be the first to go. That one he’ll take down himself.

He stays up the entire night, never letting his eyes close, afraid you’d start drowning again. But he won’t let you slip beneath the rocky waves; he’ll keep your head above water, pull you out, do his very best to make you feel safe.

Safe. You’re safe here with him. And even if you don’t trust him yet, you will. He’ll make sure of it. He saw the absolute terror in your eyes on that stage, and he just couldn’t leave you with the venomous snakes in that house. You have a long road ahead of healing, but he’ll be there to help you through it.

A beautiful girl like you deserves a second chance at life, and he’ll give it to you. Pretty flowers don’t deserve to wilt. They deserve to thrive.

And you will.

Tagging those who seemed interested 🩷 @joelsgreys @amyispxnk @whxtedreams @clawdee @jellybeanxc

@lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra @sawymredfox @sanarsi

@christinamadsen @missannwinchester @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @littlevenicebitch69

@milla-frenchy @magpiepills @604to647

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #Joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #soft joel miller #protective joel #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #no outbreak au #no use of y/n #joel x female reader #pedro pascal characters #joel the last of us #joel miller angst

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