#Uncle trash man returns!

[science-hoes]

You Are In Love: Chapter One

Jack Abbot x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical medical descriptions, a dad joke, VERY FLUFFY

Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four (Juno)

Description: Jack needs the reader to help him with a VIP patient, but she soon learns about his chosen family.

Jack Abbot Masterlist

——

Jack Abbot was the reason you wanted to go into emergency medicine. Watching him under pressure was like watching an Olympian in their medal-winning sport. He handled every case with control and diligence, and that lured you into the specialty even more. It only took one medical school rotation with him to know that you wanted to play the game.

So now, in your third month of your internship, you spent nearly every moment with Jack Abbot on the night shift. You rarely had a different attending. The scheduling gods seemed to be in your favor. Of course, you had gotten to know everyone else on staff. You had made friends with the other residents and attendings. Dana had become your favorite charge nurse. Even the social workers were happy to see you walk through the doors.

You arrived an hour early for your night shift, hoping to practice some more suturing in the skills lab before shift change. Just as you were about to escape the doctors lounge and head to the lab, a voice called out behind you.

“Hey, kid, I could use your help.”

You turned to see Jack pulling a pair of gloves off and tossing them in the trash. “Oh, hi.” You replied as you walked toward him. “What are you doing here this early?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, that smug asshole smile on his face. “I could ask you the same.”

You shrugged. “I was gonna go to the skills lab and suture. But not if you need me.”

He nodded and pressed a hand on your back as he lead you to one of the Central rooms. “We have a VIP.” He explained.

He swung the curtain open to reveal a little girl with long, dark hair and big brown eyes. You’d seen those eyes before…

“Uncle Jack!” The five year old exclaimed at the sight of your attending.

It was like magic, the way Jack’s usual stoic demeanor turned into one that would rival a Disney hero. “Hey, princess!” He returned her enthusiasm, a wide grin on his face. He dropped to his knees in front of the child and grabbed her tiny hands in his. “What are you doing here, huh?” He took a quick glance at the mother, who was holding a small blue bundle in her arms.

“I’m hurt.” The child replied, albeit vaguely.

The young woman let out a strained sigh. “We were at the park, and Eliza jumped out of the swing when she saw some older kids do it. Landed on her arm.” She explained.

Jack nodded, giving a don’t-blame-yourself look to her. Then his eyes flicked back to Eliza. “Can I see your arm, please?” He asked, a voice so gentle that it had to have been someone else’s. A moment of hesitation from the child. Then a head-tilt from the silver-haired man. “Uncle Jack is gonna make it all better.” He promised.

That seemed to convince her because she slowly, feebly presented her swollen arm. Jack delicately held the arm in his hands and examined it.

“Bump her up to next in line on X-ray. We’ll get her some IV morphine to help her relax. Could need realignment and screws.” He said to you.

Just as you were about to walk out of the room, you bumped into someone rushing into the room. A mumbled apology was the only thing you heard before a shrill “Daddy!”

You turned to see Michael Robinavitch kneeling to the ground in front of the little girl. “Hey, sweetheart!” He greeted.

Oooh. VIP. This was Robby’s family. The patient was Robby’s daughter. You left while the family reunited to order the X-Ray. When you turned to enter the room again, Dana was leading Robby’s wife, who held a tiny baby, to the cafeteria.

“X-Ray order is in. Next in line.” You announced to the attendings.

Jack gave you a thumbs up. He was sorting out the materials needed for IV morphine. He pulled the butterfly needle out of the packaging, and like clockwork, Eliza began to cry. Robby knelt to meet his daughter’s eyes, the ones that were a perfect mirror of his. “Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me.” He whispered. “We have to get you the medicine so your arm will stop hurting, okay? Just a quick poke.”

Eliza shook her head, more tears streaming down her face. “Daddy, please, don’t do it.” She begged. “Don’t hurt me.”

And if you’d never seen a man’s heart break in real time, the look on Robby’s face would be ingrained in your memory forever. His body seemed to go limp at his daughter’s words, unable to insert the needle if he tried. Jack quickly intervened, kneeling next to Robby. “Daddy isn’t gonna hurt you.” He assured the child. “He’s gonna hold you while Uncle Jack gives you the medicine. Does that sound okay?”

Eliza still continued to cry. You remember being her age and having a paralyzing fear of needles. So, you stepped forward to distract from the two pathetic men on the ground. “Hey, baby. I’m gonna show you how it works, okay?” You said.

You grabbed the blue elastic tie from the tray and wrapped it around your forearm. “First, Uncle Jack is gonna wrap this around your arm. It’s gonna give you a big hug for a few minutes!”

You picked up the alcohol swab package and opened it. “Then, he is just going to give your hand a little bath to get it all clean. Like this.” You said, swiping the wipe across the back of your hand. “See? All clean!”

You tossed the wipe and grabbed the J-tip, pressing it on the cleaned part of your hand. “Then, he’s going to give you a stamp that makes your hand tingle. What’s your favorite soda?” You continued.

Eliza followed your every move with an intense curiosity. “Sprite.” She sniffled.

You smiled. “When Uncle Jack gives you the stamp, it’s going to sound like you’re opening a Sprite can. It’s just air.” You explained.

Eliza nodded, rubbing chubby fingers across her wet eyes. You reached for the butterfly needle after placing the J-tip back on the tray. “Last, he’s going to let this little butterfly give you a kiss where the stamp was.” You finished, inserting the needle into one of your own veins. “See? It doesn’t hurt!” You lied through your teeth. It always hurt more to get an IV on the back of your hand, but that was Eliza’s best bet.

You yanked the blue tie off your arm, then removed the butterfly needle. “Think you can let Uncle Jack try now?” You asked.

Eliza didn’t answer, but she didn’t protest either. You smiled, motivated mostly by pride, and looked to your senior attendings. Both men stared back at you. Robby with a look of relief, mostly because you got his daughter to calm down. But Jack…you couldn’t read the look on his face. He broke your gaze to pat Robby on the back, standing up with him.

“Alright, princess, let’s get you that medicine.” He said, grabbing a fresh butterfly needle.

Robby sat on the bed, crossing his legs, and pulled Eliza carefully into his lap. He cradled the little girl in his arms, using his free hand to smooth her dark hair as she whimpered. “Shh…Daddy’s got you.” He soothed.

Eliza melted into her father’s embrace, blinking slowly when he brushed stray tears from her reddened cheeks. Jack tenderly grabbed her uninjured arm and wrapped the blue tie around her forearm still loose. “Alright, Eliza. You’re about to feel that big hug, okay?” He explained, then pulled the blue tie snug.

A small sound of discomfort escaped the child, but she remained docile in her father’s arms. Jack traced the tiny veins on the back of her hand and found his target. When he turned around to reach for an alcohol swab, you already had it ready for him with an outstretched hand. For a brief moment, Jack was caught off guard, but he took the swab from your palm, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin for a beat longer than normal.

“Now, let’s give your hand that cold bath.” He said.

Jack rubbed the wipe across his tiny workspace, and Eliza let out the smallest, softest giggle. Robby smiled, probably for the first time since he stepped foot into the room. “That tickle? Yeah?” He teased. Eliza nodded, just a little bit.

“You ready for that Sprite can sound?” Jack asked, once again reaching, and you already met him halfway with the J-tip.

“Yeah.” Eliza whispered, her face half nuzzled into Robby’s chest, but still enough to keep an eye on Jack’s movements.

Jack placed the J-tip over the vein he wanted, and just like you said, it sounded like a can of Sprite opening, minus the sugary fizz that followed. Eliza jerked her hand pack at the odd sensation of carbon dioxide shooting across her skin. Robby reached his finger under her palm for her to grasp, and she did, just like she always had since she was born.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” He said softly.

Jack rubbed the spot on the back of her hand. “Once it starts working, we’re gonna let that butterfly land on it, okay?” He explained.

“And it will give me a kiss?” Eliza asked, looking to you, her source of information.

Jack and Robby both chuckled, and the latter pressed a kiss to her hair. “Yeah, just like that.” He replied.

Eliza giggled, but in her joy, she shifted and moved her broken arm. The laughs quickly turned to screams of pain again, and Jack winced.

“Oh, you gotta be still, princess. We’re almost ready for the medicine.” He said. Then, he leaned in, like he was trying to keep his voice from Robby’s earshot. “You know, if you keep being a brave girl, once you’re all healed up, you can come to my house and go swimming.” His voice was playfully sly.

The cries reduced, just a little. “I can?” She blubbered.

Jack nodded. “Sure. As long as your mommy and daddy say it’s okay.” He replied, glancing up at Robby, hoping he didn’t just make a promise outside of his power.

Robby smiled and nodded. “Of course. You need to show Uncle Jack how you can swim without floaties now.” He said.

Jack’s eyes blew comically wide. “Without floaties? Only big girls can swim without floaties.”

Eliza nodded, her bottom lip still quivering, but a glint of pride was in her eyes. The same one you’d seen in Robby’s eyes many times. “Can Abby come, too?” She asked.

Jack nodded, a smile playing at his lips. “Absolutely. We’ll have a pool party.” He reached back for the butterfly needle, and once again, the brush of your fingers against his. He kept it out of Eliza’s view, continuing to hold her hand. “Your daddy and I will grill some hamburgers and hot dogs. You can teach Abby how to swim. We’ll invite Nana, too.”

Eliza didn’t even flinch when Jack inserted the butterfly needle. You carefully concealed your morphine syringe and connected it to the line. But just as you could see her entire body relax in Robby’s arms from the push of meds, she looked to you with those big brown eyes. “Are you gonna come to the pool party?” She asked.

You froze, unsure of how to answer. Does an invitation from a five-year-old have enough warrant to show up at your boss’ house? Jack placed a hand on your back, lower than he probably meant to. “Yes, she’ll be there, too.” He confirmed for you.

You snapped your head to his direction. Those hazel eyes bore into you, and you couldn’t find the words to respond. In that silence, he winked at you, a smug smile on his face.

“Uncle Jack, she’s pretty.” The little voice broke your small moment.

Your eyes widened, heat crawling up your neck. Robby let out an involuntary sound, a mixture of a laugh and a choke. But Jack never looked away from you. In fact, he doubled down with, “I know.”

Before you could melt away in a puddle of embarrassment and giddiness, the curtain swung open, revealing Dana and Robby’s wife, still cradling a tiny bundle.

“Nana!” Eliza sluggishly squealed.

Dana leaned over and gently tickled Eliza’s shoulders. “There’s my girl!” She exclaimed.

You tilted your head, confused by the connection. “Nana?” You questioned.

Robby chuckled. “Eliza couldn’t say ‘Dana’ when she was little, so she kept calling her Nana.” He explained.

Dana gave you a stern but playful look. “Keep in mind that I am not old enough to be a real Nana.” She stated.

Jack raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “I know plenty of people your age who are grandmothers.” He said.

Dana pointed a finger at him and jabbed his chest. “How would you like to lose another foot?” She threatened.

Your jaw dropped at the comment. That wasn’t allowed, right? Surely, that crossed some kind of line. But Jack just chuckled and swiped her hand away.

“I’d love to. I’ll be one step closer to becoming a robot.” He replied. “Literally.”

Robby’s wife groaned at the unfortunate pun. “Please, stop. I already have to listen to Robby and his dad jokes.” She begged.

Robby grinned proudly. “Yeah, leave it to the professionals.” He teased, but his eyes moved to the bundle his wife was holding. “How’s my little man doing?” He asked.

She smiled and moved to sit on the bed next to Robby and Eliza. “He’s been a sleepy boy all day. Better than testing out his lungs though.” She leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder as she spoke. “How’s my big girl?”

Eliza grinned sheepishly when her mom reached to gently pinch her rosy cheeks. “Uncle Jack said we can have a pool party at his house.” She stated, beginning to slur her words in sleepiness. “He said Nana can come. And he said Abby can come.”

Dana chuckled. “Still calling him Abby, huh?” She asked.

Robby smiled, shifting so that Eliza could rest horizontally as she began to doze off. “We’re working on it.” He answered. “Somewhere she learned that nickname. Can’t imagine from who.” He joked.

Jack huffed and moved to where Robby’s wife sat, offering his pinky to the baby boy’s tiny hand, activating his palmar grasp reflex. “Have they been desecrating our name, buddy?” He asked, a lilt in his voice. “Us Abbots are fighters. We don’t take shit from anybody.”

Dana’s swat at Jack’s shoulder for cursing in front of Eliza and his following defense of “She’s asleep!” didn’t distract you from your new piece of information.

“He’s an Abbot?” You questioned, a feeling of warmth in your chest.

Robby’s wife smiled. “Michael Abbot Robinavitch. We stuck with Michael for about a week, but…” She trailed off, looking to her husband.

Robby’s shoulders hunched a bit. “She calls me Michael when I’m in trouble. I got a little scared every time she said his name.” He admitted, but his smile remained. “So we settled on Abbot.”

Jack carefully cradled Abbot as Robby’s wife passed him over. His tanned biceps that strained against the sleeves of his scrub top made the baby look incredibly small. He slowly walked over to you, his right foot stepping heavier as usual, his eyes focused on the baby. A deep smile graced his lips. And just on the edges framing the smile were huge dimples. You wanted to save that image forever. You brushed a finger against the baby’s tiny hand, smiling when he moved in response.

Meanwhile, Robby was elbowed by his wife, who exchanged an excited but knowing glance with Dana at the sight of you and Jack sharing that unintentionally tender moment. All he did was nod in response, eyebrows raised in a silent confirmation.

“Why Abbot? Is Jack that important?” You teased.

Dana threw her hands up in exasperation. “Thank you!” She said. “That’s what I said. I’m still waiting for a little Dana.”

“Working on it.” Robby said with a wink, quickly receiving an elbow in the ribs from his wife.

“Michael!” His wife hissed.

Robby cowered slightly at his birth name. Jack nodded his head towards them. “See? That’s why this is Abbot.” He said.

You giggled and gently ran a hand over the baby’s soft hair near his forehead, afraid to venture too far back towards the fontanelle. “Well, Abbot is very cute.” You complimented.

A simultaneous “Thank you” filled the room. One genuine, from Robby’s wife. The other facetious, from Jack. Laughter filled the room, and you felt oddly a part of a family. Their family.

Perlah entered the room with a pediatric wheelchair. “X-ray is ready for Eliza.” She said, smiling at the sight before her.

Robby stood carefully, holding his daughter snug against his chest. “I’ll go with her. We can walk.” He said and followed Perlah out of the room.

As if it were a snap back to reality, Jack walked back over to Robby’s wife and carefully transferred Abbot back to her arms. “I’m gonna go check on that DUI kid in Central Four.” He said before looking over to you. “Go ahead and get the cast materials ready. She’s gonna want pink.”

Jack left the room, holding onto the ends of his stethoscope as he walked. You found yourself frozen for a moment, processing everything that had happened in the last thirty minutes or so. Someone cleared their throat, and you snapped your head in that direction, embarrassment coursing through your veins.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You said, moving to the drawers of the room quickly to grab the liner and plaster.

Robby’s wife looked to Dana with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Dana nodded, intercepting her question in the air.

“So, what do you think of Abbot?” She asked.

You smiled, bringing the supplies back to the tray near the bed. “He looks just like Robby.” You answered.

Dana rolled her eyes. “No, not Dana Jr.” She deadpanned, then nodded her head toward the Pitt. “The Lieutenant Colonel.”

Your hands froze where they were, sorting out the supplies. Slowly you looked up, and you were met with both women staring intently at you. “Oh, Doctor Abbot…” You corrected yourself. “He’s nice.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Robby’s wife immediately responded.

Dana gave her a look of way-to-blow-our-cover. You let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, yeah. But he’s way older than me. And we work together.” You answered, using your answers to ground yourself as to why your crush was a dead end.

Robby’s wife shrugged. “So? Robby is almost 20 years older than me. And we work together.” She countered.

You tilted your head. “Wait, you work here? In emergency?�� You asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been on maternity leave.” She explained.

“Ohhhh.” You drew out, finally connecting the dots.

Dana smiled. “See? So what are your other excuses?” She pried.

You laughed slightly and shrugged. “I guess I don’t know if he’s interested.” You replied.

The two women shared another glance, debating on revealing any other information. “But you are?” Robby’s wife asked.

You smiled slightly, looking down at your hands. “Who wouldn’t be?”

The conversation ended there when Robby reentered the room with a slightly awake Eliza. “Distal radius fracture. No surgery.” He announced.

His wife let out a sigh of relief and smiled when her husband sat next to her again, still cradling the little girl. “That means we can all go home tonight.” She said, pressing her forehead to Robby’s shoulder.

—

After you followed Jack’s careful instruction while shaping the cast on Eliza’s arm, the little girl begged everyone to sign it. By the time she left with her family, there was a “Mommy”, “Daddy”, “Nana”, and your name with a smiley face on the hot pink wrapping. And as soon as you finished writing your name, Jack had snatched the sharpie from your hand, scrawling “Uncle Jack” right next to your signature.

As you watched the Robinavitches leave the Pitt, you found yourself smiling. You wanted that. The devoted parents, the precious children, the caring friends who became family.

You knew Jack was approaching by the uneven foot pattern, but you didn’t turn around. “You think I’m pretty?” You asked.

He stood by your side, brushing his thick shoulder against your frame, looking down at you with a trace of a smile. “I’d be a fool to think otherwise.” He answered honestly.

You looked up to meet his gaze. Those bourbon eyes were intoxicating, but you fought to maintain eye contact. “You’re really great with kids.” You complimented. “Eliza loves you.”

His smile deepened to a sincere one you weren’t used to seeing. “Thank you.”

The stare off continued. “Do you want kids?” You blurted out, and you nearly clamped your hand over your mouth at the word vomit.

Jack tilted his head, smile unfaltering. “If I find the right person to have them with.” He replied, leaning down closer to you just slightly. “Before I turn to dust.”

You laughed and nudged him with your shoulder. He laughed with you and crossed his arms, the muscles rippling across his skin. You didn’t notice when he leaned down, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“What you did in there with Eliza. Walking her through the process. Got her to stop crying. Good job.” He whispered lowly.

The hair on your neck stood at attention at the praise, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. You tried to brush off the feeling. “Thanks, Doctor Abbot.” You replied.

His face twitched when you called him by his last name, like he forgot you were his intern and not his. “Jack.” He corrected you.

You looked up to him again, taking in another drink of his eyes. There was vulnerability this time. “Jack.” You repeated in a whisper. “I didn’t know you had dimples.”

It was Jack’s turn to get flustered. “What do you mean?” He asked, and you could see the red creeping up his freckled neck.

You gently poked at his cheeks where the divots had appeared earlier. “You have dimples when you smile. It’s really cute.” You teased.

You could see the muscles in his face actively working to hold back a smile. He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t smile.” He answered as seriously as he could.

You wrapped your hands around his bicep and rested your head on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

And the smile Jack held back flooded onto his face. Dimples and all. He placed a hand over yours and pressed a gentle kiss to your hair. Nobody said another word. You didn’t have to. You could hear it in the silence.

——

A/N: this is probably gonna get a Part 2 featuring the pool party because I can’t help myself. Also this can technically be a Robby x Reader fic because I intentionally didn’t give his wife a name so you can have the best of both worlds here 💙

[oceantornadoo]

ch13 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: allusions to torture. reader has some ptsd. SMUT.

also i did not edit this srry

masterlist | next

“Again.”

Johnny sighs to his right, but Simon ignores it, too concerned with the man in the chair in front of him. “Say it again.” The man in the chair (Richard, 34, nephew of a Price uncle, twice-removed or some bullshit) spits out a glob of blood on the floor before clearing his throat. “The night the weapons were stolen I was at home with my wife. We watched a new episode of one of those trashy American shows, The Bachelor, that dropped that night. I was off-shift. Came in at 6am because of the Mrs. Price emergency.” Simon’s eyebrow twitches under his mask. Three days after getting his sister back and this is what sniffs out the rat? An American show Johnny loves to pirate? He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Johnny catches his eye and he can’t fault the man for the grin on his face. When Simon turns back to Richard, red in the face, he’s pretty sure the man’s figured it out. “The Bachelor drops Mondays.”

Richard sputters, twitching. “We were catchin’ up from the week before.” Simon shakes his head, glancing at the papers on the table to his left. “You had off every other night that week and only got to it by Sunday? Tellin’ me the wife keeps up with the drop schedule but waited six days?” He walks closer to Richard, gloved hands gripping the man’s jaw tightly. He presses his fingers into the bruise near his mouth, pressing hard until he breaks.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m in debt, man, 50,000 Euros. No one knows so when I lost to the guy at that shithole of a bar and he offered me a job, I couldn’t say no! He said it was just a few documents, wouldn’t hurt anyone…” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Before Simon can grab a tool from the wall, Johnny clears his throat. “Let me, sir. Gaz called. You’re needed at base.” That could only mean one thing. Simon nods, swallowing thickly as he leaves the room to the sound of screams. 

It’s a half hour drive back to the Castle, but it feels like eons. Simon changes his gloves and mask with the limo partition up, even swapping his sweatshirt out for your benefit. The smell of blood fades when the fabric is removed, bundled into a trash bag he leaves in the car. When Simon double checks his phone, his hands are shaking. Another oddity of the week, too miniscule to dwell on.

It’s been three days since he last saw you, cuddled up in Price’s arms like an injured stray. For all Simon has tried to protect you from, the insults of childhood and your shared shitty father, it worries him to think you got hurt despite his greatest efforts. There’s no doubt that you’re a strong woman, but he’s not sure what Shepherd did to you and no matter what, there’s only so much a person can take. The guilt that’s been following him since the marriage is heavy like a chain, weighing down his every motion. Did he marry you off too early? Was Price the wrong pick? Thoughts swirl like a snowstorm in his head, only stopping when the car pulls up to the Castle.

It’s the perfect home he would have picked for you, given the chance. Sophisticated wealth, nothing flashy or too pretentious. Gaz mentioned that you redecorated, and he can see parts of you in the artwork, in the new chairs meant for casual conversation instead of just functionality. You’ve turned the base into a home and the guilt creeps up again thinking of how you might have never returned to it.

“Mr. Riley.” The door guards nod at Simon as he walks through. He feels out of place in his hoodie, used to his lax uniform in Manchester. Price styles himself more as a businessman than Simon ever has. He hides the scars with gloves and a mask but he doesn’t delude himself into thinking of himself as a professional. He’s more like the head of a wolf pack, barking and snarling at anyone who gets too close. Nothing like Price and he’s glad for it. You deserve someone who can give you a semblance of a normal life, pretending like he’s going to work at an office instead of meeting illicit weapons dealers on the edge of town.

Gaz is waiting for him in the foyer, immaculate in a deep blue button-up. It’s the first time he’s seen the man shaved, a testament to the bonds that you forged with Price men that were tested in the past week. “Ghost.” Gaz nods, leading him through the Castle. “How is she?” Gaz walks slower than usual, seeming to need more time before bringing Simon upstairs. “She’s…recovering. Been talking with a trauma therapist the Captain trusts.” Simon nods. He can’t imagine what they put you through, why John ordered him to find a new set of clothes when they found you. Everything he learns is a strike against Phil, whenever Simon finds him. John promised him retribution.

“How is she physically? They hurt her?” Gaz stops in front of the stairs, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “She’s skittish. Can’t approach ‘er from behind, got t’ give ‘er plenty of warnin’. I only saw her last night when she came down for some food, ‘s the first time she’s been out of the room. The Captain’s given me a temporary title while he’s taking care of ‘er.” It’s not temporary. Simon can sense it, leadership senses setting off alarms. Loyalty, initiative, intelligence - Gaz has it all. A fine replacement if he’s ever seen one. Too bad Johnny hates him. 

Simon nods, ready to see his sister. Before he can step up the stairs, Gaz clears his throat. “If you can, sir, convince her to drink some water? Last night, all she could do was look at the glass.” Christ. What did they do to you?

When Simon climbs up the stairs, you’re lounging in the sitting room, swathed in clothes too big for you. The couch you’re on is out of place, tugged from its original spot so the back is now against the wall. Tactical. He ensures his steps are loud so you sit up with a smile instead of a shudder. “Si!” You grin and his heart stops at the fact you still have the ability to. They didn’t take everything. “Hey, love. Can I hug ya?” You nod, setting your book down with your arms reaching up. “I missed you.” You murmur as he hugs you. The angle is awkward as he towers over you but he doesn’t particularly care, sitting down next to you while keeping you in his arms.

“How ya doin’, kid?” He asks when you release him. Simon slips off his medical mask into his pocket. On closer look, you’re wearing John’s clothes, the name of some obscure London footie team emboldened on the chest. He can hear the man’s voice come from behind the closed bedroom door, likely on a phone call. “I’m okay. John got me a therapist and she’s really helping. She specializes in kidnapping victims and immediate solutions and…yeah. Isn’t that a bit weird, saying I’ve been kidnapped?” On second look, you don’t look your best. There’s circles on your eyes and faded bruises on your jaw, like someone grabbed it and forced it open. Instead of answering, Simon brushes the soft skin of your neck until he can find your pulse. You don’t jolt like he expected you to, instead curling into the feeling of his familiar touch. 

“I knew somethin’ was wrong ‘fore Gaz called. Had this dream of you screamin’ my name, askin’ for my help from somewhere far. When I woke, I just knew. Ready to tear the world apart f’ you, kiddo. You’re still my little sister to protect.” A tear escapes your eye. He brushes it away, then squeezes your cheek like a grandmother would before pulling back. “I’m still lookin’ f’r others who were involved. They’ll get what’s coming for ‘em.” You nod, catching his hand before he pulls back completely. “Thank you for that, Si, but also, I just- just need you here, you know? I think your presence here will do a lot more for me than being an avenging angel.” He gets it, he does, but he didn’t get to kill Shepherd. He was John’s but Phil is Simon’s and no matter what, he will be found. “Think there’s a way f’r us to split it?” It. His time. Your wants, his needs. 

You squeeze his hand and nod. “I think so.” You croak out. Simon can sense the need for levity, so he starts telling you about how Johnny almost got himself blown up a few weeks ago when dealing with a Chinese chemical supplier. Simon’s not usually the joker between you two but he channels the infectious energy of his husband, in pursuit of making you laugh. You finally giggle when he mimics the windblown look on Johnny’s face, even putting in the effort to mimic his mohawk with his hands. It’s goofy and reminiscent of your childhood, the ghost of Tommy making a rare appearance in the corner of the room. Your kidnapping has sent Simon off the edge and out of character, desperate to do anything to repair what has been broken.

The bedroom door creaks open and John’s heavy footsteps follow. “Hi, sweetheart.” John approaches the couch head on, kissing your forehead before nodding at Simon. “Simon.” He nods back, not feeling the need to put his mask back on. “John.” “What is this?” Your eyes flick between the two of them, brows furrowed. Simon looks at John, who shrugs. “What’re ya talkin about?” You frown at Simon’s words, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Since when is there a bromance? What did I miss?” John sighs, dragging a hand down his face. Simon reaches out to ruffle your hairdo, smiling when you screech and bat his hand away. “‘S called mutual respect, sweetheart. Not sure what a bromance is.” You mock John’s sigh, rolling your eyes. “You’ll be wearing friendship bracelets by the end of this year if you keep going on this trajectory.” The men lock eyes with twin glances of horror.

“On that note, you good if I pop in downstairs, sweetheart? Gaz needed help on something.” A look of understanding passes between you two, a look Simon has felt time and time again with his husband. It’s like a punch to the gut in the softest way possible. “All good, I’ll be here with Simon.” John nods, kissing your forehead before taking a few steps back towards the staircase. Before he can leave, Simon clears his throat. “John, you have any condos or safehouses in the area you aren’t usin’?” John’s eyes flicker with a different kind of understanding. “Enough space for two, I gather?” Simon nods, ignoring how you’re kicking his shin. “For a month or two, at least.” You kick him harder and he shoves your foot away in a playful push. “I’ll see what I can do.” John responds, nodding before heading down the stairs. 

“You’re stayin’?” When he turns to look at you, your lip is quivering. He sighs in faux exhaustion before tugging your legs on top of his. “‘Course I’m stayin’. Can’t let my baby sister fight alone.” You shyly wipe your eyes before meeting his own. “What about the business in Manchester?” He shrugs, acting like he didn’t spend hours on the phone with his best men last night. “It’s what I’ve got men for. Plus, you can show me ‘round.” Instead of squealing or jumping him, you give him a small smile. It feels older and mellow, something he hates. “Thanks, Si.” He squeezes your foot. He wants to bring up the water drinking, but you seem a little fragile right now. He’s got time now, something he won’t miscount. “‘S what I’m here for. Now tell me the rest ‘f y’r redecoratin’ plans. That entryway could use some work.” You grin and he’s reminded of the toothy five-year old, playing hide and seek in the Riley house of horrors. A survivor, through and through.

-

Every day passes faster than the last. You find out your therapist, Marie, is actually Dr. Marie Laswell, Kate’s wife. She promises you that despite their marriage, everything you share is confidential and stays between you. It’s hard work, recounting everything that happened in your daily meetings. John is there, kissing your forehead and cuddling you after nightmares, like the perfect gentleman. As the adrenaline drains and you find yourself living again, you crave more than that.

You want to go back to your last fight. You know it could be self-sabotage, but in the confines of the Castle, it’s like nothing can harm you. John only has guards you know working. Terrance stops by once or twice, telling you he got promoted. Simon visits whenever he can. Your reunion with Johnny is heartfelt and strong. Gaz feels like a son now, protective and firm about your security. All of these facts coalesce into a suit of armor, knowing that as long as you don’t leave the building, you are safe.

Marie tells you it’s not the healthiest mindset. You remind her progress is progress. She sighs in a way that reminds you of her wife.

The one-month anniversary of your kidnapping creeps up on you, haunting the corners of your mind. There’s an ache deep in your heart to return to normal, no matter what he said about finding a new one. You want so badly to change without looking over your shoulder. On rainy days, there’s a phantom ache in the side of your arm that Phil sunk a syringe into. He’s still in the wind, a fact that agitates Simon more and more. Small wins happen too. There are days you don’t need John at home, content with phone calls throughout the day and a long dinner at night. You’ve gone on two (2!) walks by yourself, passing through the park across from the Castle as guards trail behind you and at the corners of the park. You’ve progressed to Gatorade and flavored carbonated water but still jump at unknown touches. Except, of course, John’s.

Every night runs like clockwork. You shower, John standing outside the door like a protective hound. Then you slip on a robe and let him in, brushing your teeth and finishing your routine together. He leaves to ‘check something’ and always returns with a new non-water liquid he wants you to try, like a new Gatorade or flavor of tea. In the time he’s gone, you change. You’ve graduated from speed-changing to taking your time, rubbing lotion on your body before slipping on pajamas. When John comes back, you cuddle and talk, and then lights out.

The same damn routine. Every. Night. You feel like a nun.

The anniversary passes without little fanfare. John takes the day off, unusual but part of the new normal. Gaz is left in charge again, a fact he’s getting more used to. When you wake in the morning, something else new happens.

Morning light warms your eyelids. John’s arm is a comfortable weight around your waist, his forearm hair rubbing the patch of your stomach exposed by your raised shirt. Something pulses low in your belly. When he turns to pull you closer into him, your stomach flutters. His face tucked into your neck, the weight of him searing as his body is half-slung over yours. It’s a welcome change from how you usually find yourself on top of him, like he’s pinning you to reality. A body scan reveals wetness between your thighs and a keenness between your lips.

When you cant your hips slightly, chasing that fluttering feeling, his cock twitches in his sweats where it’s against the outside of your thigh. You tilt them higher, fighting against the weight of him, and smile when his cock twitches again. “Go t’sleep.” He groans, rough and sleepy into your ear. Instead of listening, you push your thigh outwards to the heavy weight of him.

“Watch what y’r doin’, pet.” Pet is new. Unlocking a new nickname sends a thrill down your spine. You ignore the connotations behind it. “John…” You whisper, injecting an extra breath of air into your speech. He pulls his head up, hair mussed and eyes blurry. He’s beautiful.

He props himself up on his forearm, giving your own arm freedom to move. You do so, sliding it from his neck to his torso, snaking down to follow his happy trail. “What d’ya think y’r doin’?” You run your fingers through his trimmed body hair, only dipping slightly into the elastic of his boxers. “I want to feel you.” You blink at him with wide eyes. He pulls his core backwards, letting your hand drop on the mattress. “Y’r not ready.” You frown, scooting back into your pillows so you can properly meet his eyes. “I think I get to decide that, John.” He closes his eyes, sighing. “I was readin’ an article and-” You huff, pulling back further until you’re sitting on the opposite side of the bed. 

“This is the problem we have, John. You trust external sources more than me.” If he was a weaker man, he’d look whiplashed. Unfortunately, you got a husband prepared for anything, a man who can argue at the drop of a hat. “I’m jus’ sayin’, sweetheart, maybe we wait. I don’t want t’ hurt ya.” You scoff, pulling your knees to your chest. “Can you trust when I say you won’t hurt me? That I can handle myself and know my limits?” He’s silent for a second too long.

You launch yourself out of the bed, heading for the bathroom. He’s faster than you, weak from weeks of lethargy, beating you to the punch to stand in front of the door instead of tugging you back into him. “Stop.” You place a hand on his chest, intent to push him away, but all he does is cover it with his own. “Can you jus’ wait for a second?” That’s when you take a second look at your husband. How he’s panting like he’s out of breath, even if you know he goes for runs every day. His pupils are blown and feral, a predator in the wild. You stand for a bit, letting your palm track how his breaths go in and out of his chest.

“Deep breaths for me, baby.” How nostalgic it feels, the roles reversed as this time it’s you talking him off a ledge. His breathing calms after a minute, eyes going tame as he squeezes the life out of your hand. When he’s calmed, he speaks. “The last time you ran from me after an argument, you were taken from me.” Your heart breaks a little at the weakness he lets you see. Your hand slides up into his beard, brushing over the rough strands as you look in his eyes. “I wasn’t running, John. I just needed some space.” He shakes his head in disagreement. “Ya don’t know what it felt like, seein’ you step into tha’ car an’ gettin’ a call hours later that you were gone.” You nod, biting your lip.

“You’re right, John. I don’t know. And you don’t know how my brain works. You don’t know how harsh grips trigger me but yours never have.” Understanding brews in his eyes, cloudy like a cup of coffee. He pulls you in closer by the waist, lining you up until your pelvises meet. “I get it, sweetheart. I trust you.” You exhale a breath at his words.

“I didn’t take ya on tha’ trip months ago because I was meetin’ a new supplier an’ I didn’t trust him. You know firsthand now how dangerous my world is. I know you’ve lived this life, but London is more cutthroat than Manchester could ever be. ‘M not sorry f’r smotherin’ ya, because at least y’r safe. ‘S my number one concern in this world.” It’s terrible, how you don’t care that he’s admitted that he smothers you. How all you care about is how he knew what you were referencing, even if it was from months ago.

“How do I know you want me for me?” Another concern of yours from your fight before the kidnapping. He shrugs, giving you a wry smile. “Guess you’ll have to trust me.”

You drag him into the bathroom, jumping onto the counter and pulling him between your legs. You practically maul his face, kissing him with unrestrained want. His admission flipped a switch in you, a longing that’s been asleep for a while. It wakes up when he pulls you closer to his pelvis, your clothed cunt rubbing against the outline of his cock. You’re still wet from earlier, your folds sticking to airy fabric. 

“Didn’t want it like this.” He breathes behind your ear. John sucks a soft patch of skin there, licking at the sweat from your sleep before trailing down your neck. “Wanted t’ eat ya out f’r an hour ‘fore even pullin’ my cock out.” You run a hand down his rigid back muscles, pulling at the fabric until he lets you tug it off. John laves his tongue at your neck, alternating between sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin. His hands grip your hard, thumbs inching closer and closer to your core. You’re wearing shorts without underwear, a perfect combination that he soon discovers. “What else?” You moan, leaning your head back until it hits the mirror behind you. It’s perfect, knowing there’s nothing but a wall behind your back. It calms the worried part of your brain, letting you fully focus on the moment.

“Then I’d let ya suck my cock, get it nice an’ warm in tha’ mouth of yours. Let you rub y’r cunt against me.” You whine at the image, nails digging into his back as he continues making out with your neck. Finally, he tugs your sleep shirt off, trailing downwards to suck at your tits. He squeezes one while sucking the other, pulling hard enough to make it hurt. There’s no part of him you can reach, the angle of it awkward and wrong. The solution is to trail your free hand up your thigh, passing his hands to push the fabric of your shorts aside and thumb at your clit. “Wha’s this, hm?” He murmurs, switching to your other tit. “Wanna be ready f’ you, John.” The wetness seeping from your cunt makes it easy to slip a finger in, stretching yourself in preparation for your husband. He’s letting you set the rhythm in a way he usually doesn’t, and you love him for it, something you don’t think too hard about.

“Let me?” He asks and you nod immediately. He replaces your hand with his own, sliding two thick fingers into your hole. You clench immediately at the intrusion, more out of tension than fear. John stops, glancing up at you from where he’s leaning down. “Need me to stop?” You shake your head, moving your hips forward so his fingers slide in deeper. “It’s just been a while.” John is still stopped, searching your face for something. “I trust you, John. I need you to say it back or this won’t work.” His eyes don’t leave your face, nodding slowly. “I trust you with my life, baby. An’ I trust ya with yours. You gonna let me stretch you out?” Instead of answering, you start to grind slowly, fucking yourself on his fingers. His gaze drops down, watching your cunt squeeze him tight. 

“How’d I get so lucky, hm? Perfect wife, dropped right into my lap.” John makes you work for it, angling his thumb so your clit hits it with every grind. It’s the most work your body has done in months and you love it, love the burn in your muscles as you command them to work. “This is goin’ t’ be a lot shorter than I wanted it t’ be, pet. Can’t focus when y’r mewlin’ f’r my cock like this.” You whine at his words. John pulls his fingers out, a string of slick trailing after them. He rubs them against your chest, pointed nipples scraping against your own wetness. The friction makes you delirious and needy in his arms. “John, I need you.” He hums, that same hand pushing down his sweats to reveal his cock, thick and heavy in his hand. He gives it a pump and you watch him spread your slick around it, mixing with his precum to make it even smoother.

“Last chance, baby.” John lines his cock up with your cunt. He rubs it up and down, catching on your clit every other time. “Shut the fuck up and fuck me, John.” His name on your lips is punctuated with a gasp as he pushes into you. You let out a string of curses at the intrusion. No matter how many times John has given you his fingers, the blunt width of his cock is so much more. It’s been over a year since you’ve fucked someone, and it’s never been like this. It’s never been dark blue eyes filled with trust and care, flicking down every so often to watch his cock go in and out. It’s never been dangling over the precipice of an orgasm so fast, the speed of it hitting you like a lightning strike. He fucks you through it, his hand on the back of your neck, forcing you to look down at where you’re joined. You watch your tits and stomach bounce at his movements and you watch as he hungers for it.

John’s a talker. This you’ve known, but it’s never been like this. 

“Look at you, taking my cock so well. Fuckin’ made f’r it.”

“Y’r cunny’s so tight, baby. This all for me?”“So desperate for it, pet.”

“Such a good girl for daddy. C’mon, say it.”

It makes you clench and mewl and claw at his back. He tries to kiss you but all you can do is let your mouth fall open and pant against him. Your first orgasm left you weak-willed, eager to follow his instructions. You nod your assent to every word, sweat dripping into your eyes. The second orgasm builds slow in your core. It burns with every thrust, every brush of your clit that John’s thumb makes. You lean your head back so it hits the mirror, suddenly realizing that your actions echo each other in the mirror behind John.

Your mouth is open. Sweat makes your skin glisten. You settle your weight on your hands and arch your back, a glimpse of your tits visible in the glass. It means you look almost whorish but it doesn’t matter because it’s for your husband, whose muscled back ripples with every thrust. That’s the image that sends you over the edge, whining John’s name as you fall off the edge. 

“Where, baby?” John meets your eyes with a burning question. You look down at the creamy ring around his cock, the slight of it sending another hazy spark to your core. “Inside.” This time John’s the one cursing, dropping his forehead to your collarbone as he watches himself come inside his wife. Finally, with his soft cock still inside you, John slows to a stuttering stop.

“Oh fuck.” John looks up at your panicked words with a matching expression. “Somethin’ hurt?” Your mouth opens, then closes. “What? No. I just remembered I stopped taking my birth control because of what happened. I haven’t been on it in over a month. And Plan-B’s really mess up my cycle.” John laughs. Your husband laughs, with his forehead on your collarbone and his cock inside you, pushing his cum in further. “This is not funny, John!” He shakes his head before meeting your eyes. “I got a vasectomy.” You blink. “What do you mean, you got a vasectomy?” He drags a hand down his face. Instead of answering, John eases out of the tight hold of your cunt. He fishes for a washcloth somewhere near, running warm water over it before swiping at your inner thighs. “When we had tha’ conversation about Gaz. Didn’t want it to happen after tha’ an’ not be prepared.” You squint in confusion. “I timed it with your period.” You bark out a laugh of disbelief.

“You’re fucking crazy.” He looks up at you with worry etched into his face, like he’s done something wrong. All you do is smile and pull him in, kissing his nose like he’s adorable. “I hate you.” You say, laughing. “You love me.” He murmurs against your skin. You don’t refute it, shutting him up with a kiss.

-

Phil watches and waits.

Her husband keeps leaving her alone. Phil’s camera screens flicker, shots of her through windows and from the park. The brother is closing in but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s so close to completing his mission. He must watch and wait.

-

one. chapter. left.

i barely edited this so if you see any mistakes no you didn't

-

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[spam-monster]

Why I Think Stone Should Be Shadow's Human Buddy:

- Both processing their grief.

- Shadow gets someone who's used to dealing with overdramatic rage and not talking about feelings.

- Shadow wakes up in a panic after a nightmare and trashes his room? Stone replaces everything without complaint and adds a force field around his stuff so he doesn't break anything else at night. Shadow mentions he misses having a record player? Stone buys him a new one and throws in every album released 50 years ago just in case.

- Stone gets someone who genuinely appreciates his help and who would actually do nice things for him in return.

- Shadow insists on helping Stone cook. Shadow helps clean up his own messes. Shadow tries to listen to his advice.

- Riding motorcycles out in the wilds and then setting up a tent and stargazing together.

- Also they're just both kinda hecked-up little guys.

- Like both probably mad at GUN still but settle for clandestinely thwarting their plans undercover.

- Also Stone kinda wants to take over the world in Robotnik's name but also wants to protect the world he sacrificed himself to save but also is too nice to use Shadow as a tool.

- Somehow they end up settling on "take over the coffee industry by offering better job benefits and use sustainable business practices to help protect the environment"

- Shadow helps transport the beans to reduce fuel costs. He likes having a job that's not just "run around to generate energy and let scientists poke at you"

- GUN is appalled when they find out the ultimate lifeform is working at a coffee company. "You have the power to level or fuel entire cities and you're wasting it on coffee?!"

- "I like coffee." Shadow glares dramatically.

- Team Shadow fits into dynamic as well - Stone having access to Eggman tech could be how they find Omega, and he and Rogue would be very catty at each other.

- Stone asks Tom and Maddie for advice on living with an alien hedgehog. They start giving him parenting advice.

- "I'm not a parent" he says

- but then he sees Shadow in danger and the switch clicks to "crap in trying to cope with the loss of the man I loved I accidentally adopted an edgy teenager"

- Just let him join the family dynamic as the weird uncle who watches soap operas with Knuckles and Maddie and helps Tails test inventions and threatens GUN with an entire arsenal of Egg tech if they try to go after the silly little alien critters ever again.

[mariusrenathyrs-crashout]

I love you Frostbek, I love you. I love you couple who are polar opposites to one another; and yet direct reflections of one another. Foils if you will.

Frost who is the stoic, hyper intelligent, logical and responsible one of the group. The refined, confident, and resolute strategist that all of his friends look to for guidance, for logical reassurance and a plan. Who has learned to compartmentalize his emotions and holds logic and reasoning as the key to the universe and all its vast knowledge. Who's greatest fear is being forgotten and left behind, who knows it is his mind that people tend to value rather than his personhood. Who was taught to hold nothing but his mind in importance, to disconnect himself from all relationships and material things as he is so close to ascending if not for his earthly attachments; and yet he has a bag filled with useless trinkets and literally weighs over 100 lbs in weight as he collects and gathers and hoards. Who is afraid of the Krew one day leaving him behind because if they finally come to their senses and realize what a stick in the mud he is, how he doesn't know everything, if his intelligence and use one day runs dry - who will he return to? The Monastery where he can once again live in isolation and silence after years of joyful laughter and Gricko's ocarina song?

Torbek who is emotional, trusting, gullible and earnest to a fault. The sweet, clumsy and hope filled person who never takes for granted the slightest bit of kindness or sliver of happiness. Who had been neglected and left in isolation for so many years of his life and hasn't ever been able to practice or learn social cues until late adulthood. Who holds people so close to his heart, even the ones that shouldn't earn that honor he holds and cherishes. Who had been treated as a tool or a thing rather than a man and who throws himself at every problem with his body and his life because he has been taught if he is not of use then he is nothing at all, that nobody wants to try and fix a thing broken beyond repair. Who is so afraid to be let go and left alone that he clings so fiercely to people who at times broke his trust and harmed him greatly, and yet he still moves with them with a forgiving heart though a bit more jaded mind. Who holds pretty much nothing on his person aside from ratty clothes and an old hobo bindle, who never had a home or sense of stability, who slept in the trash and abused his body as actively as others abused him. Who fears his friends keep him around for the use of his Witchlight and pity rather than love and comradery.

They're afraid of being alone, afraid of not being of use, afraid it's all fake and will come to an end. They struggle with emotional intelligence - Frost struggling with expression and Torbek struggling to vocalize his needs - both stumbling over words and comfort - Frost not saying anything at all, Torbek fumbling his words and sometimes making it worse. They want comfort and companionship and stability, to stay with the people they love; but to expect one day they'll lag behind. They stand up for one another and protect each other and the group with their whole hearts, they're uncles to Hootsie and best friends to Gricko. Frost is kind to Torbek in a way no others are and Torbek fascinates Frost in ways no other has before. Frost thinks Torbek's drawing of the group is sweet. He tried to catch Torbek when he was shrunk and keep him safe, he apologized to Torbek several times for being mean, he is a psychic user who can look into people's minds. Torbek looks up to Frost in many ways and speaks his praises actively, he jokes with Frost and cried just as Frost cried during the Jabberwock fight, he finds Frost uniquely kind yet firm, stoic yet supportive, he's a man with few memories and a mind like a locked door.

THEY CAN UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER IN WAYS SO UNIQUE TO THEM, A DYNAMIC ALL THEIR OWN.

[lexirosewrites]

Happy Slick Sunday! Here we go! This was rushed so apologies to any grammar error and such 😅:

Steve presented very late, but the moment he presented as an omega, he was kicked out right after finishing his first heat. His father wants nothing to do with him after he was such a disappointment for the last time. Blaming him for not being an alpha. Steve was left with no money, his car was taken away and he was not even allowed to pack a bag. Tossed him with nothing to his name except the money he has in his pockets…which is not a lot. There are not a lot of places he can rent at an affordable price so he goes to live at the trailer park. One trailer that was isolated from his other neighbors. His new neighbors and people in town were very nasty with him just from his designation but also that they have no sympathy for the ex golden boy of Hawkins. People began to talk and he was top gossip. Steve Harrington is the town slut! Steve Harrington Homeless! Disowned! Poor! A Nobody! Trash Omega! Some thought that he got what he deserved from the way he treated people and some thought he was just a low life omega slut since he slept with almost every girl in town before presenting. Steve spends most of his days working multiple jobs that would even hire him so he can bring food to the table and to pay rent. He pulled away from everyone, trying to make himself as invisible as possible. It’s not like anyone was going to be nice to him or make him into their omega or have pups with him. Deep down he’s starting to feel like what they are saying is true.

A month after moving into the trailer, Steve went out to check the mail and there he hears someone approaching. When he turns around, he finds Eddie Munson giving him a smirk.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Is that Steve Harrington? King of Hawkins High and lady’s man? Now living at the trailer park as an omega?” He teased.

Steve remains silent as he stares at Eddie with soulless eyes as Eddie continues to jab at his demise. Everything he said is not making him feel any better. His scent sours as he listens to the alpha talk. Steve is just tired. He’s alone. And he’s just done with everyone that he doesn’t even bother fighting. He was not even aware that he was crying until he noticed droplets land on some of his mail. He goes to wipe his cheek, not realizing that the Alpha in front of him has stopped talking, staring at him with his wide doe eyes with worry.

“Are you done? Cus I would like to go back inside…” Steve said at a low voice.

“I-I-shit! I didn’t mean to-“ Eddie stammers, unsure how to process this but Steve didn’t give him a chance to speak as he returns inside his tiny trailer and crawled into bed, uninterested in anything.

Steve doesn’t see Eddie again. In fact, he doesn’t speak to anyone these days. He continues to work his job and continues his life with people making low comments about him. It was his day off when he hears a knock on the door. Surprised to see Eddie again.

“Can we not Munson…?” Steve sighed.

Eddie noticed things about Steve. His eyes baggy and he looks a bit malnourished.

“Actually….i wanted to apologize. Should have come sooner but I didn’t know how to make it up to you.” Eddie fidgets, playing with his rings.

“Look, it’s fine man…just..don’t sweat it. You’re forgiven.”

Eddie smiles and bows, in a regal accent “to show my humble apologies dear sir, please accept this invitation this evening to Munson Mansion. There shall be fine dining that is of whatever grub lord Munson can provide. I shall not take any other response that isn’t yes”

Steve sighs “Alright then…”

Eddie pumps his fist in the air “yes! Right this way dear sir!”

Steve puts his shoes on, gets his keys and locks up before following Eddie to his trailer. Steve has heard in the vines that Eddie Munson lives with his uncle for a few years now. Has heard he was trailer trash and was branded as a freak. He has never paid any attention to him nor did he bother him. But now the alpha is opening the door to his home and letting him get comfortable, offering him a drink while his uncle is in the kitchen cooking something that smells heavenly. Steve hasn’t realized how hungry he was. He’s not surprised. What with only being able to afford something small to nibble, some clothes to replace what he couldn’t get when he was kicked out and putting the rest away for rent. He did notice that his clothes are looking large and his pants need to be held up. Surely the Munsons haven’t noticed.

Wayne comes over once he was finished, wiping his hands with a dish towel

“You the Harrington Kid?” He stares.

A bit skittish that once he confirms, he will be kicked out as well. Steve looks down before answering “yes sir…”

“Hm. No need for any sir talk. Wayne is plenty. Hope you’re hungry, I made plenty. Rustled up whatever we have and made a large pot for dinner. So help yourself. Boy, help set the table” Eddie gets up after complaining a little and helps his uncle set up. Then Eddie offers Steve a seat and scoops a large plateful of food, offers Steve a coke from the fridge, already nice and cold.

“Thank you…” Steve said softly, trying to be polite but also small as possible. He doesn’t want to be a rude guest but he is also afraid that the Munsons will treat him as poorly as everyone else. So far he likes having their company. It’s been a while since he had any that enjoy his presence. But he doesn’t want to ruin anything just for being the omega everyone calls him.

“So Stevie…” Eddie cuts his train of thoughts “How are you liking the neighborhood?”

Steve couldn’t help but scoff as quietly as possible “it’s okay I guess…I haven’t spoken to anyone…” only when they are shouting slurs at me “I’ve only been going to my jobs and then coming back home for a small meal, save the rest, get some sleep, and start the cycle again…”Eddie frown at that. What could he have said that could make him look like that.

“You don’t have fun? Hang out with your friends and such?” Eddie tilts his head. Steve only can shrug at that and continues to eat quietly.

“So where do you work Steve?” Wayne chimes in

“A little of everywhere really….cleaning houses…working a few hours as a cashier….and some other side jobs I can pick up that don’t mind having an omega like me work for them…” it’s starting to smell and feel sour.

“Well I can always admire a hard working man, doesn’t matter if you’re an alpha, beta, or omega. If you need any help. Don’t be afraid to ask”

Steve looks at the genuine look the oldest alpha gives him. It’s the first time someone has been really kind to him since presenting. He doesn’t want to ruin it.

“Thank you. I’ll…keep that in mind”

After dinner, Eddie walks outside to smoke, Steve bums a cigarette from him as they smoke in silence and enjoy the cool air.

“Thank you for inviting me..it’s the first time in a month I’ve had a hearty meal.”

“It’s no problem. That’s what neighbors are for. And here we help each other”

“Now that….that is not true….and you know it” he stares. “Nobody here in this trailer park or even this town has helped me or said anything nice to me….”

“I know..” Eddie sighs “I’m sorry..Wayne has already set me straight about how unkind I was to you…but from now on, I want to be there for you…at least let me be your friend…?”

Steve stares at him “why..?”

“Because after spending an evening with you, I realized you are a really cool dude. And I want to know more about you and spend time with you. And that I, Eddie the Banish of Munson Mansion, was wrong about the fair princess Stevie of the Northern Isles, and would like to get closer to the fair maiden and be his first companion.”

Steve chuckles and looks at Eddie “alright Munson. We can be friends.”

As promised, Eddie stops by Steve’s trailer to spend time with him. To invite him over to have a hearty dinner each day with him and his Uncle Wayne since Steve seems to forget to eat sometimes with how exhausted he is from working all day. They spend time together playing games, watching movies, showing Steve how to play DnD, Wayne taking Steve to watch sports with him, making Steve practically family. Along the way, they started to move closer, feeling like they are more than just friends. After some time, Eddie gave Steve a courting gift. It was one of his rings. Steve couldn’t help contain his excitement as he kisses his alpha on the cheek. And once Steve was having his heat, he invited Eddie to be there during it. And the same with Eddie asking Steve to be there during his Rut. They were perfect together. A little over a year after he was kicked out of his childhood home and was branded such slurs for being an omega, things were better for Steve. The slurs have died down after Eddie and Wayne started putting people who mistreat him in their place. Steve was able to earn enough money after applying as a daycare employee full time, now earning enough alongside Eddie’s earnings from the mechanics to be able to rent a bigger trailer for him and Eddie to live in. After 4 months of courting, they both decided to become official and mate for life. A little ceremony with only Wayne as witness. And it was just perfect. And it didn’t take them long after they were Man and Wife to announce to uncle Wayne that there will be an additional Munson on the way. Now round with pup at almost 9 months, Steve is sitting in the rocking chair in their pup’s completed nursery, learning to knit some cute baby booties as Eddie walks in to greet his omega with a kiss and placing a hand on his swollen bump, getting ready for the next chapter of their life to begin.

you guys want me to cry😭😭😭

[hippiegoth97]

I Melt With You: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by me :)

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Description: It's Eddie's birthday, you spend the day celebrating with your friends. And when you and Eddie return to his trailer for the night, you have the perfect gift for him. One you've been wanting to give him for such a long time...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, virgin!female reader, fingering, oral sex, protected sex, light praise, fluff

Word Count: 7.4k

divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx

I Melt With You

"Are you ready for your special present, baby?" You say to Eddie as you stand behind him with your hands over his eyes. Eddie's never been a major birthday guy, but having you in his life for the past year has changed his mind on the subject.

"You know it, sweetheart." He chuckles at your words, curious as to what kind of surprise you have planned for him tonight.

You two had spent the day with your friends Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle to celebrate as a group. You all met up at Skull Rock, drinking beer and eating pizza before presenting Eddie with gifts. Steve gave him a voucher for ten movie rentals at Family Video, and Robin got him a couple new patches for his battle vest. Nancy and Jonathan went in together on a blood red guitar strap, while Argyle presented him with a homemade t-shirt in black and white tie-dye with an intricate skull design.

When it came to be your turn, you gleefully bestowed upon him a first edition of The Hobbit. His favorite book, signed by Tolkien himself and everything. It's safe to say that Eddie was over the moon about your present in particular, scooping you up into his arms to give you a heart-melting kiss after he tore the wrapping paper away from the weathered book cover. He said it was 'the most bitchin' gift in the entire world'. You felt a little bad for upstaging everyone else, but being his girlfriend implies that it's kinda your job.

You'd moved to town in the summer of '86, living with your Aunt Sylvia before moving into the dorms for freshman year at Hawkins Community College. When you first arrived, Sylvia showed you around. There's not much to do in a place like Hawkins, but you've lived in worse places with even less to do. At least there's a movie theater and some basic shops and restaurants here. The last place you lived had a gas station/country store and two churches as the only things around for miles.

Summer was pretty uneventful, you'd go out to eat or see a movie every once in a while. But most days, you'd be helping Sylvia tidy up her home at Forest Hills Trailer Park. She's not as spry as she used to be, so you took on the chores around the house that she can't bend down to do anymore. You didn't mind at all, the work kept you busy. Something you noticed though, or more like someone, was a handsome young man who lived a couple trailers down from you. His name was Eddie, and you two talked sometimes in passing as you took the trash to the dumpster or either of you saw the other smoking on their front steps.

He said he lived with his uncle Wayne, and you told him about your aunt. Apparently they know each other, she used to bake cookies for Eddie and help him with his homework when his uncle was out. You found out many other things about Eddie over those three months. He liked metal music, had a band, and was a total nerd. He was cute, and charming, you really liked him. He seemed to like you too, but neither of you made a real move in any forward direction. You're quite shy, and Eddie appeared to share your delicate nature, despite how dramatic or obnoxious he could be.

Regardless, the two of you liked being around each other in your small ways. It was comfortable, noncommittal. You were both busy with your own lives, too focused to become entangled with one another. Or anyone else, for that matter. And when fall rolled around, you barely even said goodbye as you hauled your stuff to your assigned dorm room. You figured you'd see Eddie again in town at some point, so it didn't feel necessary to participate in a formal parting.

You wouldn't see your kinda-sorta-friend again until your first ever college party. It was being held by one of your classmates, you don't quite remember who. But your roommate, Robin, insisted you go along with her. You begrudgingly agreed, going against every natural instinct to avoid crowds that resided within you. The party itself wasn't huge, but it was certainly not what you had in mind for that evening. Robin went off with people you didn't know at the time, Nancy and Steve, leaving you to fend for yourself.

You had scanned the crowd, trying to find a singular familiar face. But nope, you were completely on your own. You found this fact to be quite overwhelming, so you stepped outside to get some air and have a smoke. And lo and behold, you found the one and only Eddie Munson all by his lonesome. It was like he was waiting for you, and you were overjoyed to see him.

"Hey, long time no see, Y/N." Eddie speaks first, looking you up and down. He really likes how you look tonight, a simple cocktail dress and strappy heels. Perfectly applied makeup painted on your face, and your luscious hair styled into an updo. He's only seen you in ripped jeans, dirty t-shirts, and rubber gloves before. He likes how you look no matter what, but this getup is certainly enticing to him.

"Hey, Eddie. What brings you here tonight? I never considered you a party person." You ask, reaching into your purse for a cigarette. You locate the pack, pulling one out and dropping the box back inside. You stick the end between your lips, digging around for your lighter. You're just about to give up looking when you hear a flick in front of you. You look up to find Eddie lighting the tip of your smoke, and you inhale deeply to jumpstart the burn. "Thanks." You say meekly, unable to hide your blushing in the moonlight. He's standing quite close to you, gazing deep into your eyes as he mindlessly returns the lighter to his pocket.

"No problem, angel. And no, I'm not into this scene at all. But it's good for business." He smiles kindly at you, hoping to put you at ease. He hides it well, but underneath the facade, his stomach is fluttering with butterflies and his heart hammers in his chest. He wasn't sure he'd see you again, at least not for more than a passing glance. But here you are, exactly where he wants you to be.

"I figured as much. I'm not really into it either. My roommate Robin dragged me here." You giggle at this admission, which makes Eddie laugh too. He gestures for you to join him to sit on the backdoor stoop. You do, slanting your legs together to sit properly in your dress. It's far from comfortable, but you don't want to flash him or something.

"Buckley, huh? She leave you all alone?" You nod, and he tuts. "That's kinda rude. Although I will say, I'm glad I get to see you again." He leans over to nudge your shoulder with his own, the leather of his jacket rubbing against your bare skin. This simple touch sets your insides ablaze, and the air between you is changing.

"I'm glad to see you too, Eds." You reply, trying to keep yourself together. You take another drag, blowing the smoke out in a large cloud as the nicotine works its way through your system. You flick the ash, the two of you simmering in silence as your faces stare out into the cool fall night. Eventually, the cigs burn away to nothing, the spent butts discarded into a nearby bush.

"Y/N?" Eddie asks, breaking the silence. You turn your head to look at him, meeting his large brown eyes. Your mouths are dangerously close to each other, and he keeps staring at your lips.

"Yes, Eddie?" You say softly, eager to hear what he has to say. You really hope it's the same as what you've been tempted to say since the second you found him out here.

He clears his throat, clearly nervous about asking you this. "W-would you...maybe...wanna go out sometime?" Eddie stumbles over his words in the most adorable way. Even though you've always wanted him to ask, you still gasp as you can't believe it's actually happening.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to ask that." You say, dumbfounded. He's about to confirm if that means 'yes', when you impulsively grab the lapels of his jackets to pull his mouth to yours. He grunts in surprise at first, before softening against you. You both melt into the kiss, and Eddie smoothly maneuvers you to straddle his lap. Your bare knees sit on the brick of the steps, but you don't care about them getting scraped at the moment. He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp. He slips his tongue into your mouth, quickly dominating yours. You instinctively grind your hips against him, already feeling an erection forming in his pants.

"You look so beautiful tonight, Y/N." Eddie says breathlessly as you break away for a moment. His hands have migrated to your waist, gripping you with the perfect balance between firm and gentle. His touch makes you feel safe, secure.

"Thank you, you're very handsome too." You repay the compliment, even though he almost always wears the same clothes. He looks sexy as all hell in them, that's for sure. You stare at one another for a moment, still rubbing yourself against him. Stifled moans leave your lips, and Eddie loves every little sound you make. He decides to take things a step further, leaning forward to kiss your neck. "Eddie." You whimper, savoring the sensation of his teeth and tongue leaving purple marks all over your throat. Your hands slip into his thick hair, tugging on it just enough to make him groan.

He attempts to make another bold move, slowly sliding one of his hands to slip under your dress. He's just about to touch your slick folds through your panties, when you grab his wrist. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asks, worried he's overstepped and ruined everything. He looks at you with a concerned expression.

Your face has hardened like stone, and you feel frozen in place. "I just- I haven't...gone all the way before." You speak sheepishly, blushing in embarrassment. He probably thinks you're not worth his time now. Your stomach turns as he doesn't respond at first, tempting your flight response to kick in any second now.

Eddie caresses your cheek, giving you another light kiss. "It's alright, baby. We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. 'Kay?" Your heart soars at his understanding, and you capture him in a passionate hug. "How 'bout we go inside, hm? We can hang out for a bit, just talk and plan our date. If you still want to, anyway." He rubs his neck awkwardly, wondering if you even want to keep being around him at all.

"Of course I do! C'mon, let's go get a drink." You reassure him that you have no intention of blowing him off, standing up and extending your hand to help him off the ground. He smirks, letting you assist him. He wraps an arm around your waist, leading the two of you into the house.

To this day, you and Eddie still haven't fully 'consummated' your relationship. It's not that you haven't wanted to, far from it. But you've wanted to wait until you're ready, and he's been every flavor of patient with you. You two go on cute dates, and cuddle in your dorm or at his trailer. You attend his band practice and performances, and occasionally play D&D too. You also frequently engage in hot-and-heavy make-out sessions, and even let Eddie touch your tits from time to time. You've never gone any further than that though, until tonight. You finally know that Eddie is the one you want to give your virginity to. You love him more than anything in the world, and you want to give every little part of yourself to him. "Happy Birthday, Eds." You say excitedly, removing your hands so Eddie can see what you've done to his room.

He opens his eyes, finding every surface lit up by multiple candles. There's rose petals on the bed, and a small box wrapped in dark blue paper sitting on the pillows. "Damn, Y/N! You really went all out, huh?" Eddie exclaims, unable to believe how lucky he is to have you.

"There's more, baby. Open your present." You say seductively, nudging him forward with your palms. He chuckles darkly at your tone, doing as you ask. While he's occupied with the box, you quickly remove your clothes to uncover a very special lingerie set you bought just for this occasion. You pose seductively against the dresser, you can't wait to see his reaction.

Eddie tears the paper away on the little gift, revealing a brand new box of condoms. His eyes widen a moment, looking to you to see if you're trying to say what he thinks you are. His jaw practically falls to the floor when his eyes meet your body. You're dressed in nothing but a dark red bra and thong. The material is lacey, and almost completely sheer against your skin. "Jesus christ." He whimpers, unable to trust his eyes at the moment. He's been dreaming, fantasizing about you finally giving yourself to him. Is this really happening?

"Did you figure out what your special surprise is yet?" You ask mischievously, biting your lip. You suddenly feel very exposed under his gaze, you've never been so scantily clad around him before. Even your bathing suit is a one-piece, although Eddie adores you in it anyways. He nods wordlessly, walking over to you to get a closer look.

"Can you turn around for me, princess?" He asks, his mouth sitting agape. You slowly rotate all the way around, letting him drink in your entire form. He groans at the sight of your practically bare ass, unable to resist reaching a hand forward to grip one of the supple cheeks. "Is this okay?" He inquires while stepping even closer behind you. You moan in response, pressing yourself further into his grasp. He kneads the firm flesh, drawing more little noises from your lips. You want him to take you right now, the anticipation is already extremely intoxicating. "Does that feel good, sweetheart?" He speaks lowly in your ear, sending a chill up your spine.

"Yes, fuck." You rub yourself against him, his cock hardening in his jeans.

"You wanna lay down for me, baby?" He asks, intending to take his sweet time with you. You oblige his request, resting your head on the pillows while he stands at the side of the bed. "God, you're gorgeous." Eddie looks down at you in endless admiration. He removes his own clothes layer by layer, and you watch hungrily as he reveals his body to you. His jackets and shirt come off first, exposing his tattooed chest and arms. He slips off his shoes, and unbuckles his belt to take off his jeans. Your breath catches in your throat as he's only in his boxers now, his dick forming a tent in the thin fabric. He notices you licking your lips as you stare. "Like what you see, angel?" He asks teasingly, laying down next to you on his side.

"Yes, you're so handsome, Eddie." You say softly, reaching a hand up to caress his slightly toned chest. You've seen it many times before, but it's different now that he's practically naked. He carefully leans over you, pressing his lips to yours tenderly. You melt beneath him, moaning when his hand cups one of your breasts. Eddie slips his tongue in your mouth, effortlessly dominating you. You pull him a little closer by the shoulders, wanting to feel his weight and warmth on you. He shifts to put himself directly over you now, his knees on either side of your own.

"Can I take this off, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, tugging at your bra strap. He has every intention of making sure you're comfortable with what he's doing. And regardless of how horny he is, he'll stop altogether if that's what you tell him to do. He loves you so much, and he never wants to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.

"Go ahead, love." You say as confidently as you can. You'd be lying if you said you aren't nervous about this, your anxiety has wormed its way to the forefront of your mind. But you know Eddie will never force you to do anything, you're perfectly safe here with him. You breathe deeply, trying to relax.

"You doin' okay?" He asks, noticing your body trembling slightly. He thought you might be cold at first, given your lack of clothing. But he knows you better than that.

"Y-yeah. I'm just a little nervous, that's all." You stutter. You see he's about to climb off of you, and shut this whole thing down. "But I want this, I want you." You insist, holding his arm to keep him in place.

"Okay, angel. I'll go real slow, alright? And if you're not having a good time, just tell me and we'll stop. I promise." He strokes your arm as he speaks, his eyes never leaving yours. He's deadly serious, and you love him even more for it.

"Okay." You smile sincerely at him, sitting up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your arms, and you lay back down with the cups still covering you. "I imagine you can take it from here." You giggle, wanting him to expose your tits himself. It is his birthday after all. He grins back, pinching the bra between his finger and thumb before snatching it away. It's tossed to the side, and Eddie takes a moment to fully appreciate your naked torso. Your breasts are perfect swells of velvety flesh, your nipples hardened with arousal.

"You have gotta be the most beautiful woman in the entire world." He says as his pupils dilate with lust. You can't help blushing at his praise, itching for him to finally touch you. He lowers his body, resting on his elbows. His large hands grab at your tits roughly, his thumbs rolling over the pebbled mounds at the centers of them.

"Oh, Eddie." You sigh blissfully, a familiar pressure building between your legs. You've never fully relieved it before, and you're really looking forward to finding out what it's like. Eddie brings his lips to your chest, leaving wet kisses on every inch of flesh he can reach. Every touch sets your insides on fire, the temperature of the room rapidly rising. Your hands tangle into his curly locks, tugging gently to draw some low groans from him. His sounds hum against you, heightening every sensation. He swirls his tongue around one of your nipples, before taking it into his mouth. "Fuck." You moan, your back arching off the bed. Eddie slips his arm beneath you, wanting to hold you up closer to him.

He continues nibbling on your sensitive bud, eventually moving on to give the other one equal attention. You're putty in his hands at this point, making the sweetest little noises. "Are you feeling more relaxed, Y/N?" Eddie asks, lifting his head slightly to check in on you. You meet his kind eyes, your heart fluttering at how sweet he's being with you.

"Yes, Eddie. You're making me feel so good, love." You coo at him, stroking his hair. "You wanna take my thong off now?" You tease, biting your lip. You're certainly more loosened up, and you really want him to go further.

"Don't have to tell me twice, baby." He speaks softly, putting you back down on the sheets gingerly. His hand goes to the strap of the thong at your hip, looping two fingers between it and your supple flesh. He hesitates, gauging your reaction to what he's about to do. Your heart races in anticipation, and you're mentally begging him to expose the most intimate part of you. "You ready, Y/N?"

"Yes." You say simply, placing your hand over his to assist him in pulling the thin material away from your hips. He finishes the job when you can no longer reach, flinging the garment across the room. Eddie makes a note to keep it as a souvenir later, saving it in a box dedicated to your relationship.

You're completely bare to him now, his eyes scanning over you intently. Eddie carefully spreads your legs apart, his large hands holding your thighs. You can't help the tremor that rolls over you, which makes him stop in his tracks. "You okay?" He questions, and you insist that you're fine. That you want this more than anything. With that, he brings one hand to your core, slowly rubbing two fingers along your dripping pussy. You moan at the contact, you've never felt anything like this before. "You're so wet for me, sweetheart." He says, as if he's surprised.

"Is that a good thing?" You don't mean to be so ignorant about sex, you feel silly even asking. But you have nothing to go on, except what you've seen in movies. Though those don't provide much actual information at all. You worry that Eddie will laugh at you for being uneducated, the nerves coming out to play again.

"Yes, it means you're enjoying yourself, angel." He says, not a hint of judgment in his voice. This puts you at ease, and he continues to drag his digits along your hole to your sensitive bud. You at least know what a clitoris is, thankfully sex-ed back in school taught you that one. It feels so good when he touches you, you can't help letting out little moans at the sensation. Your hips buck upwards when he brushes your clit, pleasure jolting through your body. "Can I put my fingers inside you, love?" He asks so sweetly, wanting to loosen you up along with making you come undone.

"Yes, please." You can't help the neediness in your voice, practically aching for him to be inside you any way he can. He brings his middle finger to your entrance, using his free hand to caress your waist to keep you relaxed. His eyes meet yours again, and he pushes into you nice and slow. You wince at the feeling at first, gripping Eddie's arm firmly. You try your best to stay calm, knowing the slight sting will turn into pleasure after a while.

"I know, princess. Just let yourself mellow out. It'll get better, I promise." He assures you once he's in you as far as he can go. You just nod, whimpering quietly. He stays still for a minute, letting your walls get used to the stretch. He tests the waters, curling his finger slightly. It strokes your g spot, pulling another moan from your lips. "There ya go." He smirks, satisfied with himself. He pumps slowly in and out of you, curving the joints just so.

"Fuck, Eddie. It feels amazing. Can you put in another one? And go a little faster?" You plead, letting your eyes flutter closed as you feel something beginning to brew in your belly. He does as you ask, making you gasp. Your cunt welcomes the fullness, and you can hear your juices squelching from the friction. Eddie watches as his fingers work you up, memorizing your fucked-out expression. He would love to gaze into your eyes as he drives you mad, but he lets you be so you can focus on enjoying yourself.

"I love the pretty noises you're making, Y/N. Tell me how it feels, let me know I'm doing a good job." Eddie's tone pushes you further, amplifying every little thing he's doing to you. You can feel yourself getting closer, your first orgasm quickly approaching.

"It feels unbelievable, Eds. Keep going, I want you to make me cum." You whimper, bringing your hand around the back of his head. You pull him down to you, hungrily kissing his lips. He increases his pace within you, and you moan down his throat. You can tell you're just about to lose it, helpless noises trapped inside your connected mouths. His tongue tangles with yours, and he massages one of your tits to overwhelm you with pleasure. Your body feels like it's on fire, a sheen of sweat spreading over your skin. You're so very close, you can feel it. You have no idea what to expect, you just know that the buildup is going to explode any second now.

Eddie breaks away from your kiss, wanting to watch you lose control. "C'mon, baby. Let it all go." He says lowly in your ear, brushing his thumb against your clit to send you flying over the edge.

"Oh god, I think I'm gonna-" You're cut off by an enormous tidal wave of bliss crashing into you. Your breath catches in your throat, before releasing in an obscenely loud moan. Your legs begin to shake, and you feel your insides clench against Eddie's fingers. Stars fill your vision, and you finally understand what all the fuss is about. This has to be the best thing you've ever experienced in your life, there's nothing else like it on earth.

"Atta girl." Eddie praises, carefully removing his fingers from your pussy. Your hips stutter at the loss of him, your walls snapping at nothing. He lays on his side next to you, letting you come down from your high at your own pace. He presses a light kiss to your cheek, though you hardly notice as you're still reeling through the aftershocks. He watches your chest rise and fall, admiring how picturesque you look with your legs still spread apart and the sweat on your skin glistening in the candlelight.

When your breathing and heartbeat slow down a bit, you roll over to face your man. You gaze at him meaningfully, the flickering glow of the burning wicks illuminating his deep brown eyes in a most romantic way. "That was amazing, Eddie. Thank you." You capture his lips in a kiss of gratitude, showing him how thankful you are to have him in your life. Eddie's hand cradles the back of your head, and you scoot closer to press your body against his own. You snake your hand down his front, grazing his skin with the tips of your fingers. He sighs at your touch, hoping you'll keep going until you reach his needy cock. You meet his waistband, stopping your movements for a moment.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Eddie whispers in a brief break from your intense kiss. You accept his invitation, slipping your hand beneath the elastic. You feel his mound of hair, going lower until you make contact with the firm flesh of his length. You gasp in surprise, it's much different than what you were expecting. That's not a bad thing, you're just not used to it. "Take your time, love. It's okay." He encourages you to keep going, and you reach for him once more. You gingerly feel around on his dick, noting how silky soft it is with a stiff center. Eddie groans at the teasing contact, he's already so wound up from giving you your first orgasm.

"Can you take these off, Eds? I wanna see you." You feel a bit stupid again, you sound like a child with all your questions. Eddie doesn't seem to mind though, and thank fuck for that.

"Of course, baby." He slips his boxers down his legs, his cock slapping against his stomach when it's set free. He kicks the underwear away, returning to his previous position. You take a minute to just look at it, noting the curve of the shaft and shape of the head. There's a small amount of sticky fluid leaking from the slit at the tip of it, giving you a sudden urge to lick it off. You imagine that fluid, and how hard he is, indicates that you have had a certain effect on him. He wants you, and this is as clear a sign of his desire as you could possibly get. "What do you think, angel?" He asks, smirking at the flare on your cheeks as you've been staring at him for a good while.

"It's beautiful, love." You say breathlessly, eyes flicking to his briefly. He chuckles at your compliment, that's definitely a new one. "Can I?" Your hand raises, waiting for permission to fully touch him.

"Knock yourself out, baby." He replies, taking your wrist to lead your palm to brush over his shaft. "Fuck." He groans, and the sound is music to your ears. You grip him cautiously, and he pulls your wrist to show you how to stroke him. You follow his silent instruction, dragging your hollow fist up and down languidly. "Just like that, Y/N. Fuckin' perfect." Eddie whimpers, he's been waiting so long to feel you on his dick. Your hand, or tongue, or pussy. Anything he can get, he wants.

You love the little noises escaping his lips, observing how his face scrunches and twists as you please him. It's making you very wet again, you can sense your arousal dripping between your legs as you become more revved up. "Lay down, babe." You want to try something, hoping it'll make him happy. He looks at you oddly, wondering what you're up to. But he does as you ask, his back meeting the mattress. You sit up on your knees, positioning yourself perpendicular to his crotch. You give him a loving glance, still pulling whines and moans from his chest. You bend over, so your mouth is directly over his swollen head. You curiously poke your tongue downwards, licking a small stripe over the bead of precum to taste him.

"Fuck, Y/N." Eddie groans, one hand balling the sheets below while the other rests beneath his head. The fluid is salty, but far from unpleasant. Interesting. It's strangely like you're conducting an experiment, testing which things you do with your mouth will please your boyfriend the best. You swirl your tongue around his tip, plant wet kisses that provide small amounts of suction, drag the flat of your tongue along his thick shaft. Everything you do to him is driving him mad. You know it'll take more than one try to be good at giving him head, but your teasing trials seem to be doing just fine in the meantime. "Feels so good, princess." Eddie praises you again, you can't get enough of that.

"You make lots of pretty noises too, Eds. It's very sexy." You decide to make a bold move, challenging yourself further. You bring your lips to his tip, opening nice and wide to slide down as far as you can onto him. You surprisingly manage to take his entire length in without choking.

"Oh my god." Eddie didn't expect you to try to fit all of him into your mouth, but the fact that you appear to have no gag reflex is another gift all its own. You're so hot and wet around him, he's not sure how much longer he'll last. It's been so long since he's had anything other than his hand pleasing his dick, and your toying around from earlier was fucking phenomenal. He tilts his head forward to look down at you, almost cumming right here and now from the sight of you crouching over with his cock shoved down your throat. "You really are amazing, you know that?" He says, in total awe of you.

"Mmhmm." You hum teasingly, making his hips buck upwards at the vibrations. You can't help smiling around him at his reaction, the power you hold in this moment is intoxicating.

"Jesus, Y/N. You're gonna be the death of me." Eddie chuckles in disbelief, wondering if he's dreaming again. You dissuade him of this thought, sliding your mouth up to his head, before bringing it back down again. "Shit." His grip on the bedding tightens, his toes resisting the urge to curl. You repeat the motion, wanting to make him cum for you. You're guessing it won't take long, especially given your newly discovered skillset. "That feels amazing, baby. Keep going if you can, and maybe a little faster?" He asks nicely, appreciating every little thing you're doing for him.

"Mmm." You hum in agreement, another moan escaping his lips. It takes everything in him not to put his hand on your head to hold you down and fuck your face. But he knows you're not ready for that, not yet, at least. You increase your speed, bobbing up and down while keeping your teeth away from his tender flesh. It's a little bit of a challenge, as he fills your hole significantly. Your jaw is gradually growing tired, but you're committed to this. You want to make your love feel just as good as he made you feel earlier. You try swirling your tongue around him as you move, and it looks like you've made the right choice by the way his noises become more and more desperate.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart. Especially for your first time. I'm almost there-fuck, your mouth is too damn good." He's so hot, he swears he's melting into the bed. Just a little more, and he'll finally get some relief. You try to go even faster, letting his tip ram into the back of your throat. You can see his stomach tensing, and his balls flexing slightly. He's gonna lose it, and it's all because of you. "I'm gonna cum, baby. Try to swallow it all if you can." He groans almost as loudly as you did with your own orgasm, his hips stuttering. His load spills down your throat, and you just barely get a taste of it. You really enjoy it, hoping there will be many more times you get to have the flavor of him on your tongue.

You release his cock with a pop once he softens. You look at the fuckstruck expression on his face. His eyes are hooded with lust, staring at the ceiling to ground himself. His chest rises and falls roughly, panting sighs forced from his lungs. You crawl up to his head, caressing his shiny cheek. His gaze flicks to you, a satisfied smile crawling across his mouth. "I take it I did a good job?" You ask shyly, your cheeks heating up again.

"More than good! That was fuckin' fantastic!" He says enthusiastically, which makes you giggle. "Seriously though, did you practice on a carrot or something?" He asks, mostly joking. But the widening of your eyes blows the humor away. "No way!"

"Maybe a little, although it was actually a zucchini." You admit, drawing raucous laughs from both of you. "I wanted to impress you." You snuggle up to him, bringing your head level to his. Your knee lays over his thigh, and you drag your nails up and down his chest. You look at Eddie from under your lashes, giving him your best attempt at 'fuck me' eyes. His arm goes around your waist to pull you nearer to him.

Your shared energy escalates, the closeness of your bodies electrifying the air in the room. Eddie's breath fans hotly against your skin before he speaks lowly to you. "Well, you certainly succeeded, Y/N." He cups your cheek, gently brushing his thumb across it. You nuzzle against him out of habit to deepen his touch. "I love you more than anything in the world, sweetheart." He whispers, not wanting to disturb the peaceful quiet.

"I love you too, darling." You reply just as softly. He brings his face closer to yours at an agonizing rate, it seems to take forever for his plush lips to touch yours. The second they do, however, you both give in to the feverish intensity that's been broiling inside you. Eddie bites your lip harshly, and you moan to allow his tongue access. He quickly dominates you, moving his hand to grip your thigh. He pulls your leg further over him, his fingers digging into your flesh. His mouth moves to your neck, licking and sucking to mark you up like a wild animal. "Fuck, Eddie." You whimper, savoring the pinch of his teeth.

"I'm gettin' to that, baby." He smirks, rolling the two of you over so he's on top. His dick is hardening again, pressing into your inner thigh. He's kissing all over your chest, and tenting your knees apart so he can rub his erection on your soaked pussy.

"Shit, I want you so bad." You whimper at his tip meeting your clit. You're clawing at his back, sure to leave dark red scratches all over him. He groans against your tits, nipping them over and over while his cock spreads your wetness around.

"I want you too, princess. Just let me work you up a little more, I promise it'll make things so much better." His tone is so comforting, yet darkly seductive. You have no choice but to heed his words, letting him drive you wild before the main event.

"Alright, just please don't stop touching me." You whine, grinding your hips upwards to get more friction on your needy cunt.

"Wouldn't dream of it, angel." Eddie says through a moan at your bold move. You both roll your hips against each other, making the most deliciously vulgar noises. He lowers a hand to put two fingers inside you again, curling them in that flawless way only he knows how.

"Oh, god." You can't believe this is happening. He's worshiping your breasts, teasing your bundle of nerves, and fingering you? If heaven is a real place, it's right here, in this moment. There's nowhere you'd rather be than writhing beneath your man. You can feel that familiar pressure building up within your belly once more. Eddie reaches over to the nightstand for the box of condoms, clumsily opening it with one hand to retrieve one.

When he tears one away from the long strip within the package, he opens the little foil square while still riling you up. You watch as he rolls the latex down his length, tossing the wrapper on the floor. He looks at you a moment, gripping his dick to bring the head to wait outside your taught entrance. He plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "You ready, love?" Eddie asks, breathing heavily in anticipation. He's waited so long for this moment, to share his body with you.

"Yes, Eds. More than you know." You encourage him to press on, finally put himself inside you. He nods at your confirmation, gripping your thighs in his large hands. He slowly pushes his dick in, stretching your pussy more than you expect. You wince at the feeling, your fingers holding his shoulders tighter than before. Your eyes squeeze shut, this is harder than you were anticipating.

"I'm goin' nice and slow, baby. Just relax." You force your eyes open, gazing up at his comforting face. You nod, taking a deep breath.

"Kiss me?" You ask, thinking his tongue in your mouth will distract you. You plead with your eyes, hoping he understands.

"Of course, sweetheart." He brings his lips to yours without hesitation, continuing to push into you. You gasp against him when he brushes your g spot, waiting for him to bottom out. Inch by inch, he stretches your walls until his tip hits your cervix. "Fuck, you're so tight, baby." Eddie groans, stilling his movements to let you loosen up. 

You two lay here for a while, giving each other little butterfly kisses and giggling like teenagers. You're in no rush, wanting to savor every moment. You're so deeply, helplessly in love, and this night is the ultimate expression of your affections. You're feeling so serene, blissful even. And you think you're prepared for Eddie to start moving. "I think I'm ready, darling. You wanna make love to me now?" You chuckle when you realize how old-fashioned that phrase sounds, 'making love'. You've always found it kinda cheesy, but 'fucking' doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

"You got it, princess." Eddie grins, slowly pulling out before slipping back in. Low moans spill out of your mouths, the initial discomfort quickly transforming into pleasure. His left hand holds your hip for leverage, while the other pins your own to the mattress. His fingers intertwine with yours, bringing you even closer together.

He begins to thrust in and out of you at a gentle pace, he doesn't want to hurt you. The sensation is really good, but you're craving more. "Eddie, please go faster. I swear I'm not gonna break." You insist, rolling your pelvis upwards to encourage him. He does as you ask, snapping his hips once to give you a taste. "Fuck!" You cry out, his cock hits your special spot perfectly. "Keep going, just like that." You beg. You wrap your legs around him to pull him deeper into you.

"You're so needy, baby. I love it." Eddie repeats the rough action, stealing your breath away. Before you have time to respond, he ruts himself against you in that same animalistic way over and over. He's not sure how much longer he can last though, you've been hugging his cock so damn tight it's insane.

As for you, you're not too far behind. Everything Eddie does feels so good. He's pounding you relentlessly into the bed, your orgasm ramping up with every stroke. Moans and curses harmonize with the slapping of skin, the room shaking from the headboard smacking against the wall. You're positively drenched in sweat, holding onto each other for dear life. "I'm getting close again, Eds. You're so fucking amazing."

"I'm right there with you, love." Eddie pants, his stomach threatening to tense to signal his end. He's determined to drag you down alongside him, enlisting his mouth to bite and lick your tits and throat with reckless abandon. His hand releases yours, snaking down to your clit to rub it in strong circles. You're overpowered by sensation, euphoric waves washing through you. Your walls are fluttering around Eddie's length, he can feel you about to lose it. He stops marking your flesh for a moment to share a loving look with you. "Cum for me, sweetheart."

Eddie's simple command, and the expression of pure admiration on his face sends you tumbling into oblivion. "Fuck, Eddie!" You cry out, your hands clawing at the sheets and pillow beneath your head. Your back arches upwards, your tits rubbing against Eddie's slick chest. Your thighs quake, and your insides squeeze around his cock as your orgasm runs its course.

"Goddammit." Eddie murmurs, the feeling of you cumming around him is too fucking good. He thrusts into you sloppily, extending your pleasure. He loves the way your beautiful face looks right now, so much so that his load spills from his cock to fill the condom. He presses a desperate kiss to your lips, and you reach up to hold him to you in response. He's still pumping in and out of you, riding out your shared highs. You exchange muted moans, slowly simmering down as your hearts stop racing. Happy tears spring from your eyes unexpectedly, and Eddie breaks away to check on you. "What's wrong, baby? Was it too much?" He's gone still within you now, becoming soft and overstimulated. He caresses your cheek, wiping the tracks away. You sniffle, shaking your head.

"Nothings wrong, Eddie. I just love you so much. Happy birthday." You look up at him, smiling brighter than the sun. This night has been everything you'd dreamed of, and sharing it with Eddie makes it so much more meaningful.

"I love you too, Y/N. Tonight has been the best night of my life. And being with you has made it so special." A couple tears of his own drip down onto your face, and he kisses you tenderly to accentuate the sentiment. You two are so perfect together, and you want nothing more than to keep it this way forever.

The end.

[fairysluna]

Helloooo, thanks for sharing your writing with us, I love all of your fics specially sinners 🤍🧸⭐️

For the short drabbles could you do Maegor + asking for his niece’s favor at a tourney

this is such a cute idea! i love this so much. Also, thank you for your kind words, I hope you like this🤍✨

tags — fluff, rhaena being lowkey a hater, reader being delulu (like all of us).

The way the whole crowd roared with excitement when the royal prince came out victorious from the tournament was deafening. You were laughing excitedly, clapping as your smile couldn't get any bigger. Eyes shining as bright as stars at midnight as you watched your beloved uncle smiling back at you from afar. Your beloved older sister, Rhaena, was sitting next to you wearing an unfazed expression on her face, completely opposite to the cheerful attitude you had.

From your seat, you saw Maegor galloping slowly towards the royal family, wearing that winning smile that you loved so dearly as he rested his lance against his shoulder. The butterflies that appeared on your belly were hard to ignore when he started to get closer and closer to you. You fixed your hair, nervously played with your fingers and impatiently waited for him to get close enough to hear his voice. At your side, your sister scoffed, already annoyed by your attitude towards your uncle, with whom you wished to marry; she had heard all of it, and she was tired of hearing that man's name coming from your lips.

But you couldn't care less about it.

Your attention was all over the man on the horse in front of you, standing proudly and looking so gallant inside that thick metal armor of his, you couldn't help but to bite your lip before he decided to open his mouth and say, “May I have the honor to ask for the princess' favor?” He didn't even have to specify which princess he was talking about, for every single person knew he meant you. They all certainly knew about the close relationship you had with him.

You slowly arose from your seat, taking with you the crown of flowers that you made early that morning, especially for him. You walked closer to the railing and looked down at him, feeling the air getting caught in your throat as you saw him more up close. He removed the helmet of his armor, wanting to look into your pretty eyes before he uttered the next words. “I'm convinced that everytime the sun rises you become far more beautiful, my princess.” He spoke slightly lower, as if he wanted just you to hear. You couldn't help but to feel suddenly shy under his mischievous stare, the heat on your cheeks growing as you tried to look away from him.

“You flatter me, uncle,” you replied, managing to throw the crown of flowers down the lance. “I feel like the most beautiful maiden in the Seven Kingdoms whenever you speak with such kindness to me.”

“Well, you are, my dear.” He winked at you. “Before I leave, allow me to remind you that this victory, as well as the ones that are yet to come, are dedicated to you. My beautiful princess.” A silly, enamored smile was drawn on your lips as he turned around in his black horse and galloped away from you. He made you feel all kinds of things in such a little amount of time, including a strange, new sensation located in your lower belly which you decided it was best to ignore.

Once you returned to your seat, you found your sister staring at you with a visible frown on her face. “Could you be any more obvious? You left a path of your drool behind you.”

“I will marry him someday,” you told her, your voice filled with the purest of illusions.

Rhaena could only roll her eyes.

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!

GENERAL TAG LIST — @islandfantasydream @arcielee @bucknastysbabe @zaldritzosrose @rafeism @valeskafics

MAEGOR TAG LIST — @targaryen-dynasty @hypocritic-trash-baby @mariahossain

[munchcorner]

Sukuna uses Yuji for his own benefit. Whenever Jin isn't around, he'll use Yuji to ask for someone's number, saying, "I'll stop bullying you for the day if you ask their number."

Of course, Yuji doesn't trust Sukuna, "Why should I? You won't harass them, right?"

Sukuna, not wanting to admit his interest, replies, "Your dad's asking for their number." Yuji stares at him with scepticism, "why would he need their number?"

"I don't know, man." Sukuna shrugs. Yuji tries to walk away, but Sukuna drags him back.

"We're not going home until you ask," Yuji tries to take his grip off him, but Sukuna's too strong.

"Fine, just please don't harass them or something." Yuji takes the number and gives it to Sukuna.

Like the lying uncle that he is, he still bullied Yuji that day.

Aside from using Yuji to ask for numbers, Sukuna also makes Yuji do the chores Jin asked him to do.

"Oh, yeah. Your dad said you should take out the trash." Sukuna says while watching wrestling on the television.

"I can't believe I'm stuck with you again," Yuji complains.

"I can hear you, brat."

"It's not like I was preventing you from hearing me," Yuji yells as he takes out the trash.

"Remember to clean the backyard after you return! Also, buy me some ice cream on your way here!" Yuji doesn't answer and slams the door.

Sometimes, Sukuna blames Yuji for something he did.

"Yuji, I told you not to play too rough. Look, you knocked down the trash can," Sukuna scolds when he sees Gojo approaching. "Your teacher would be disappointed if he sees it,"

Yuji's jaw drops after hearing Sukuna.

"But you were the one who kicked it down after getting pissed into an argument with a child!" Yuji complains, not noticing Gojo.

"Yuji, you know it's bad to lie, right?" Sukuna pretends to be disappointed.

"You're the one lying!" Yuji yells in disbelief.

"Gojo, I'm so sorry my nephew is acting this way. Please punish him," Sukuna clutches his chest in faux pain. It hurts to think about him being punished, but he needs some discipline, or this behaviour will continue."

Gojo only smiles, "don't worry about it. It's a problem that's easy to resolve. Since you're his uncle, why don't you set an example by cleaning it up? Hm? Maybe it'll teach Yuji to own up to his mistakes,"

Sukuna glares as Gojo walks away with Yuji while he's cleaning up.

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lv - uncle yuyu

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

For some reason, Yeonjun felt compelled to sort trash out that day. He had been staring at the bags that his kitchen staff would bring out for 20 minutes straight before deciding he couldn't stand the damn thing any longer.

It wasn't like the task was fun or it had benefits. Heck, he had to recycle and risk meeting a recycling nut who would attack him for not crushing his cans first. So his plan was to just get the bags there, throw it out and return ASAP.

But one thing caught his eye when he turned around to walk back to his cafe. He noticed a very familiar boy looking around the park with furrowed eyebrows and he noticed people looking at him, probably as confused as the little boy was, maybe even concerned because it didn't seem like he was there with someone and that was concerning.

"Hey, bud," Yeonjun called out after jogging towards Kijoong who turned around at the sound of a familiar voice. Though it seemed like Kijoong recognized him, he didn't make a move to approach Yeonjun. Heck, he took a couple of steps back and made it seem like he was ready to run away. "It's me, uncle Yeonjun! I know your nanny (y/n) and your uncle Woowoo!" He said, desperately hoping the boy won't run because if he ran and he chased him down, that could seem like a humongous problem.

Thankfully Kijoong nodded, "You're the uncle from the cafe," he stated though seemingly shying away from Yeonjun's kind gaze slightly. Yeonjun was glad to hear that Kijoong remembered him but there more pressing matters he needed to prioritize. "That's right! So... What are you doing here alone? Is your daddy nearby?" Kijoong immediately shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows, "No, I want (y/n) and daddy don't know where (y/n) is," he said, obviously hating the fact that his dad didn't seem like he was going to round up a search party to look for you. Though Yeonjun couldn't help but notice that Kijoong was so keen on looking for you, he knew he had to get the boy back to his dad. "So, your dad's not around here, huh?" Kijoong shook his head at Yeonjun's question, "So where is he?" "Daddy's cutting people with his friends," and boy did Kijoong said that with much confidence because some people heard and couldn't help but stop in their tracks and stare at the innocent toddler and a panicked adult who immediately look around and waved his hands frantically, "It's not what it sounds like, folks. His dad is a neurosurgeon, a very good one at that."

It wouldn't take a genius to realze that the kid had ran away from wherever he was supposed to be and whoever he was with, but knowing that it would be hard to ask Kijoong about where he was and who he was with, Yeonjun decided to just cut the middle man and call up his friend.

"What's up cutie pie?" Wooyoung snickered, not looking into the camera though Yeonjun had face-timed him. "Yeah I kind of have a problem and you're the only one who could help me," Yeonjun said, shifting his eyes between his phone and Kijoong who was looking around as if disinterested or worse, trying to find a means to escape. Yeonjun's words made Wooyoung roll his eyes, "For the last time, I am not dressing up like a cupcake and handing out flyers. You're roommates with Jongho, ask him," he scoffed which made Yeonjun groan, "No, dude, look." It took Wooyoung longer than he'd care to admit to realize that he wasn't hallucinating when Yeonjun moved the camera to Kijoong who upon seeing Wooyoung, beamed up and waved. "HI WOOWOO," he yelled into the mic but Wooyoung was unbudging, still confused, "Hey bud, what- why are you with my friend Yeonjun?" and Kijoong shrugged his tiny shoulders, "Uncle followed me," and Yeonjun immediately turned the camera back on him, "That is not true, I found him at the park!" "The park? Why is he there? He was supposed to be in daycare," Wooyoung asked but it was apparent that he was doing something else frantically, "He was looking for (y/n)." That seemed to cause both men to stop momentarily and stare at each other knowingly.

With a sigh, Wooyoung mustered up a smile, "Kijoong, buddy," Kijoong, who heard his name being called, popped his head into the frame and tilted his head to the side, "I need you to go with Uncle Yeonjun here back to the hospital, okay?" Kijoong momentarily glanced up at Yeonjun before he furrowed his eyebrows, "But... (y/n) said I can't go with anyone I don't know," he said, looking at Yeonjun suspiciously. "But you do know him! You know I know him and he's going to take you back to the hospital!" Wooyoung tried to reason but Kijoong only stared at the screen with furrowed eyebrows. "Tell you what," Yeonjun spoke up finally, "How about you keep calling Uncle Wooyoung on our way to the hospital, huh? That way Uncle Wooyoung can see that I'm really bringing you to the hospital, how about that?" he reasoned. Kijoong seemed to be satisfied with the idea by nodding and opening his arms up so Yeonjun could carry him.

During the whole way to the car parked near the cafe and the hospital, Yeonjun took notice of how Kijoong seemed to be calmer though he kept talking about you along the way. What made Yeonjun sigh heavily was when Kijoong told Wooyoung to tell you that he was being so good and that he listened to you to not follow strangers so you could come back home. He actually said home and while it could easily be about the apartment he and his dad lived in, he had a feeling that Kijoong was talking about the place you belong in. Even when Wooyoung told him that he and his dad would be waiting by the lobby he asked about you, seemingly hopeful that you would be there for him.

When Yeonjun took Kijoong out of the backseat's seatbelt, he took notice of how Kijoong simply waited by his side as he made sure his car was locked before offering Yeonjun his phone before lifting his hand. "(y/n) said hold," he stated though innocently, his eyes was showing determination. Yeonjun barely knew the boy but he could tell how much he had grown to get used to and close to you so much so that he was dependent. For some reason the knowledge made him feel bad that you had been absent from his life.

Even before reaching the lobby, Yeonjun could see the neurosurgeon pacing back and forth worriedly with Wooyoung next to him with his arms crossed and disgust on his face, talking about something so serous that it caused Hongjoong to stop in his tracks and put his hands on his hips, replying Wooyoung something that was probably ridiculous to Wooyoung as seen from the way he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Daddy!"

The very second the automatic door opened, Kijoong let go of Yeonjun's hand and ran to his dad, grabbing the man's white jacket as if to crawl up. Hongjoong crouched down and scooped his son into his arms and burying his face in his hair. Hongjoong visibly let out a shaky sigh and you could almost see the stress leaving his shoulders.

"Where have you been? Why did you run out of daycare?" Hongjoong asked, momentarily letting go of his relief to scold his son. Before Kijoong could answer, Wooyoung stepped up and answered for the little boy, "Because he missed (y/n) you dumb fuck. Remember her? The strong as hell woman you manage to mess with YET AGAIN with whatever you said?" At the mention of messing with you, Hongjoong visibly shifted, seemingly uncomfortable that he was being called out like that. "What the hell did you say to her?" Wooyoung pressed, taking a step forward when Hongjoong lifted Kijoong into his arms, "What the hell happened that she couldn't seem to talk about it?" Hongjoong sighed and shook his head, "It's honestly not my business that she doesn't want to talk to you, but honestly, her running away and abandoning her responsibilities because I made a mistake is not on me." Had it not for the fact that his son was right there (and that it could jeopardize his employment), Wooyoung would have definitely punched Hongjoong in his face. "She ran away because of whatever it is you said or did, I can definitely be sure of that," Wooyoung scoffed but Hongjoong was not backing down, "You kept saying that she's an adult, she's a grown-up, she's a woman or whatever, so should a grown-up just hide when a mistake was made? I was and still am willing to talk about what I did wrong because I did, I can admit that, but frankly, I don't know how effective that conversation is now that she selfishly closed the door to have a conversation from her side and blocked other means of conversation. I get her need to preserve herself, to shield her from potential pain, and to tend to her wounded feelings first, I do, but she can't call me names when she herself is in hiding and is refusing to talk without even notifying anyone in her life. So before you bite my head for being stupid and God knows I was, do your friend a favour and help her back," he said before turning around and carrying Kijoong back to the daycare after bowing to Yeonjun and thanking him before excusing himself.

Hongjoong could feel Wooyoung and Yeonjun staring at him but he couldn't care less. 1. Wooyoung is stubbornly statued on his convictions so if he were to fight him off on it, he'd just be wasting his breath, 2. He didn't know Yeonjun and he knew Yeonjun is your friend so he would most likely side with you and try to defend you in front of him, 3. Kijoong had been returned and he would much rather focus on his son than strangers. But with each step he took, he couldn't help but let his mind go back to that day you left, that day he sat under his home office desk and let the fact that he had hurt you badly sink in slowly, drowning him in guilt and feeling of stupidity. Then his mind connected the memories and feelings to the ones he experienced years before, the day his ex abandoned him with their 3-month-old. And once again, he blamed himself for being abandoned by someone he had leant on, someone he trust, someone who was hurt because of him.

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[theaawalker]

The Time Travelers ⌚ [Marty Mcfly x Y/N]

Pairing: Marty McFly x Fem!Y/N Song Inspo: Marty McFly by Luke Christopher Word Count: 1,728 Summary: You, Marty, and Doc Brown formed a formidable team. You were always by Marty's side, assisting with Doc's eccentric experiments. Unbeknownst to you, Marty shared your feelings but hadn't yet found the right moment to express them. He had planned to ask you out after Doc's latest experiment, but things took a dangerous turn when adversaries of Doc attacked, forcing you both to flee for your lives. Warnings: sexual harassment, some violence (non-graphic) Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

"Marty! They're catching up!"

"I know, (Y/N)! Damn it, I know!"

Marty pressed harder on the gas pedal, accelerating rapidly. "Marty, wait! 88 miles per hour—" Too late. The next moment, you crashed into a barn.

You groaned and checked yourself for injuries, noticing Marty struggling with a hazmat helmet.

"I'll be quick," he mumbled through the mask. You waited anxiously until Marty returned to the car, gunfire echoing in the distance.

"What's happening?!" you shouted. "Hold on!" he replied, speeding away again with shots trailing behind you.

[ TIME SKIP AKA TIME TRAVEL ]

Marty drove to your neighborhood, but something was off. The area hadn't been developed yet.

"What should we do?" You asked nervously.

"I don't kn—Wait. Doc! We need to find Doc! It's his machine, he must know what's going on!"

"Marty," you interrupted.

"Come on, (Y/N)! We have to locate his place and—"

"Marty!"

"What?!"

You sighed deeply. "How about you take a moment to calm down. Clearly, we're not at home. Let's think this through. My 'uncle' Lou is at the café. Well, he's not really my uncle. Whatever. Let's check if we can use the phone there. We'll call Doc and see what he suggests. Sound good?"

Marty's expression softened, and he nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Okay. Let's head to the cafe." He held out his hand to you, and you took it with a shy smile. Since you couldn't drive, you began walking together.

[ TIME SKIP ]

"What the heck?" Marty muttered under his breath. You shared his disbelief. This was surreal. It looked like... the 1950s.

"Marty...?"

He nervously ran his hand through his hair and scanned the town until his eyes fell on a trash can. He rushed over, picking up a newspaper. His eyes widened as he read, mumbling something you couldn't quite catch.

"What? What is it?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, nerves and excitement mingling in your tone.

"1955, (Y/N)! We're—We're in 1955... Doc's machine worked."

Your mind raced as you tried to comprehend the enormity of the situation. "Oh my God. I—I haven't even been born yet! Well... that might not be such a bad thing."

"Ouch." Marty furrowed his brows at your self-deprecation.

"No, no, no. I meant for the space-time continuum. Two of us existing in the same time period. That's be catastrophic." Marty blinked at you, clearly speechless and impressed. "What? I listen to Doc."

The two of you chuckled a bit, cut short as the memory of Doc being murdered returning. Doc was dead, or he would be... in 1985. Meanwhile, the two of you were stuck in 1955.

Marty's expression shifted to a mix of determination and concern. "Come on. We've still gotta use that phone."

With that, Marty grabbed your hand and hurried across the quiet street towards Lou's Cafe, the familiar setting from countless retellings of his adventures. As you stepped inside, the nostalgic atmosphere enveloped you—the checkerboard floor, the red vinyl booths, and the jukebox playing tunes of an era long gone.

"Did you kids jump ship or something?" the man behind the counter asked, his voice a blend of curiosity and amusement.

"Sorry?" you replied, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected question.

"Well, what's with the life preserver?" he continued, gesturing towards Marty with a quizzical expression.

You glanced at Marty, realization dawning upon you. "Oh," you chuckled softly, "I just... he likes his vests."

"I just—uh... I need to use your phone," Marty stammered, eager to distract from any further questions about his unconventional attire.

"Sure. Right over there," the man said, pointing to a booth in the back of the cafe.

Before Marty left, he turned to you with a hint of urgency in his eyes. "Stay here for me. Okay?"

"Okay," you nodded, offering him a reassuring smile despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. "I swear, Marty, if it's the last thing I do, I'll get us home. I'll get you home," you added, trying to muster the courage you knew he needed.

Marty returned your smile gratefully before rushing towards the booth, leaving you to take a seat at the counter. You settled onto the stool, trying to blend in with the patrons who seemed oblivious to the temporal chaos unfolding around them.

A familiar figure caught your eye—a young man sitting just a seat away, devouring a sundae with gusto. "Hey, ice cream sounds pretty good," you mused to yourself, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in this surreal situation.

"Um, could I have a sundae?" you asked Lou, the man behind the counter, your voice wavering slightly with nerves.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Lou replied warmly, reaching under the counter to retrieve a bowl and prepare your order.

Meanwhile, Marty trudged back from the phone booth, a sheet of phone book paper clutched tightly in his hand. "Hey, do you know where—" he began, only to be interrupted by the sudden swing of the cafe's front doors.

Your breath caught in your throat as you glanced towards Marty for confirmation. "Marty. I—Is that...?"

"Biff," he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched with apprehension.

The cafe seemed to freeze in time as a familiar, imposing figure entered—the swaggering bully, Biff Tannen. Minions behind him, his presence filled the room with a palpable tension, drawing the gaze of everyone present, including yours and Marty's.

"Hey, McFly! McFly, I'm talkin' to you!" Biff bellowed, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

The young man at the counter turned around, and it hit you like a lightning bolt. It was George McFly, Marty's father, a timid and awkward figure caught in Biff's shadow.

"Oh. Hi, Biff," George stammered, his voice barely audible over the din of the café.

Marty's expression mirrored your own shock as you watched the scene unfold before you, the pieces of the past falling into place with eerie precision.

"That's George McFly," Marty whispered to you, his voice tinged with disbelief. "My dad." You nodded silently, your eyes locked on George's vulnerable form as Biff continued his relentless taunting. "M-My dad was a total wimp," Marty muttered, his shoulders slumped with defeat.

"Poor guy," you whispered sympathetically, unable to tear your gaze away from the heartbreaking sight.

"Hello! McFly! Anybody home?" Biff mocked, knocking on George's head with a cruel smirk.

"I see Biff's always been an asshole," you murmured to Marty, your voice tinged with anger and empathy as you witnessed the brutal bullying unfold before your eyes. Marty remained transfixed, his expression a mix of sorrow and frustration as he watched his father endure Biff's torment.

"What're you lookin' at, butthead?!" Biff sneered, closing in on Marty with malicious intent.

Enough was enough. You couldn't stand idly by while Biff continued his reign of terror, especially not aimed at Marty.

"Hey! Why don't you back the hell off, asshole!" You snapped, your voice ringing out in defiance.

Biff's gaze snapped towards you, his expression shifting from rage to something altogether more unsettling—a predatory glint in his eyes. He licked his lips slowly, a sinister smile spreading across his face as he moved towards you, his towering frame blocking your escape.

Fear gripped your heart, but you stood your ground, refusing to let Biff intimidate you any further. Marty got up to fight but Biff's gang held him back.

"Don't you touch her, you sick son of a bitch!" Marty yelled.

"Oh shut up, dip-stick. A pretty girl like this ain't gonna like a squirt like you. She needs a real man." Biff turned his attention back to you. "Ain't that right, doll face?" He smirked.

"That's actually insulting." You spat. "I'd rather lick the mud off my shoe then be anywhere NEAR you!" The fucking nerve this guy had. You tried to push him away, escape from his grasp, anything. But his grip on you was iron.

"You better watch your mouth! Just you wait, honey. You're gonna be beggin' for a taste of me." He said, sending sickly chills down your spine. "Stop it! Leave me alone!" You protested as you squirmed with all your might. That must've set something off inside of Marty because he lost it and let loose on Biff's gang. Fists were flying and bodies were falling. Biff's head whipped to witness, loosening his grip, and you took the opportunity. The next fist you saw was yours meeting Biff's jaw and knocking him on his ass.

Before you could breath again, Marty grabbed your hand and RAN. He ran until the two of you were safe in a little shop Biff would never look. As soon as he was sure you were safe, he began checking you for any harm.

"Are you okay? Of course you aren't. I'm so sorry, (Y/N). Damn it. That just made me so mad to see him touch you like that. No one should be so damn disrespectful and- and touch you like that! I swear, (Y/N)."

"Marty."

"When I see him again I'll- I'll... I'll beat the shit out of him!"

"Marty!"

"(Y/N)! He's a total ass! He deserves to-"

You cut him off by grabbing his face and crashing your lips to his. He was a bit surprised at first but quickly returned the kiss. He rested his hands on your hips and carefully pulled you closer.

By the time you pulled apart, you were both flushed in the face. You leaned closer and nuzzled your foreheads sweetly, running your fingers through his soft hair.

"W-What was that for?" Marty stuttered.

You pursed your lips as you gently ran your fingers through his soft hair again. You wanted to confess, tell him you liked him, Like, really liked him. You started it a stutter, a huge smile spreading across his face. You could sense he knew what you were going to say...

Until you heard someone clear their throat.

It was the store owner. She stood there with her hands on her hips and a small smirk on her face. Both yours and Marty's faces were red with embarrassment.

"S-Sorry, ma'am." You stuttered.

"Yeah. Sorry." Marty seconded.

With that, you two quickly shuffled out of the shop, holding hands, and running down the block. Meanwhile, the store owner watched from the shop window, a growing smile on her face.

"What weird kids. Sweet, but weird."

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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[disneyprincemuke]

no other shade of blue, but you * ms47

you didn't have a favourite colour up until you met him

pairings: mick schumacher x fem!reader

word count: 1136

notes: i actually am so down bad for this man right now, don't really know what to tell you, so here i am with a short blurb for the man, the myth, the legend... also not THAT great so let me just skrrt skrrt

(f1 masterlist)

first dates, well, they're never easy. unless it's from a recommendation of your aunt's husband. she had gushed on and on about the man she was trying to set you up and while you were hesitant at first, hearing her husband talk about how amazing the guy is, you finally agreed.

you still remember, all those years ago, the unfortunate way that it had gone wrong for you and the man sitting next to you in his best suit. you press your lips together as you fumble with the lace of your dress, speakers booming with a monotonous voice as you tried to fight off the boredom that is unfortunately getting the best of you.

you drop your head slightly to glance at him, smiling slightly when he notices your stare. mick reaches over for your hand, squeezing it slightly before intertwining your hands. you remember when you used to pray, despite never being religious in your life, that you would never forget the way his blue eyes shine.

you remember how your car had broken down en route to the restaurant your uncle had asked you to drive to, telling you that he made the reservation under mick's name. you had to call your uncle for help, who was unfortunately out of town with your aunt, so the only person left to save you was mick.

you watched as his car drove up to yours in the dark of the night, you leaning against the trunk of your car. you pushed yourself off as he came to a stop right by you.

"are you okay?" he asked you, shutting the car of his door behind him. you had to take a step back to fully process the man that is approaching you. his pictures clearly didn't do him much justice, because he looks much better up close. "i called the tow truck, but it's going to take a while."

you smiled at him, at the time, only very thankful for the way he came to you without another question. "thank you so much for coming to me. mick, right?"

he nodded at you with a smile. "and you're hanna's niece, right? (y/n)?"

"yes, that's me." you offered your hand out to shake his, which he does take, surprisingly.

"i hope you didn't wait for too long," he muttered, turning away from you. he opened the door to the back of his car and reached in for something. "i was calling the tow truck for you and they told me they'd be a while."

you tried to take a peek at what he's reaching into. but he's quick with his actions, turning around to show you what's in his hands. it's a paper bag and a plastic bag with two cups in it. "we'll miss our reservation, and it's dinner - i assumed you're just as hungry as i am. i got us food to eat in the meantime."

you remember your heart skipping a beat when he laid it all out on the trunk of his car. it was just some fast food takeout, but you remember the way your heart felt warm when he pat the hood of his car for you to take a seat on.

"are you sure? your car looks expensive - i don't want to damage it," you said, shaking your hand.

in return, mick hopped on it first. he pats the empty spot on the other side of the hood for you to hop on. "don't worry about it."

you sat on the hood of that car for the better part of the next 3 hours. when the towing company told mick they would take a while, they were not kidding. neither you nor mick knew what exactly to talk about while you indulged yourself in a simple meal of burger and fries.

hour one was filled with food and small talk, both of you trying to properly navigate how comfortable you can get with your questions. you were still on opposite ends of the hood at the time.

hour two was when mick would keep the trash from your simple meal. you sat slightly closer to him, shoulders brushing as you indulged yourself in a conversation about the one thing you know about him: race cars. eventually, you talked about your relations to hanna and sebastian, and were curious why you'd never been to a race.

you would admit that you'd never been a big fan of cars, making it a point to gesture towards your beat-up vehicle that objectively ruined your date. he laughed, throwing his head back, and argued that this date was a nice change instead of sitting in a fancy restaurant for hours hunched over the table and trying to fit the stereotypes of a first date.

hour three, you found yourself a lot closer to mick. your shoulders are now touching and the conversation flowed way more naturally than you initially thought. he seemed to be more down-to-earth than you expected, admittedly scared away by the fact that his father is a very big name everywhere.

"okay, this is a stupid question," mick started, turning to you slightly.

"no question is stupid on a first date," you shook your head with a small smile. "what is it?"

"what's your favourite colour?"

you were stumped for the first time that night. you thought for a few seconds, looking ahead at the dead road as you debated in your head if you actually had one. mick would pipe down and slump his shoulders as he watches you think.

"i don't actually-" you turned your head to look at him, feeling your words catch in your throat when your eyes met his. you would feel this churning in your stomach as you looked at him, his eyes innocently staring into yours with his eyebrows raised to urge you for an answer.

you would sigh shakily as you answered him. "it's blue."

ever since then, blue has been your favourite colour. not just any blue - it has to be the specific shade that mick's eyes are. the dreamy and captivating blue that you would come to know and love for as long as you've known him.

before you know it, you stand at the end of the chapel with a mic in your hands. you glance over mick's shoulder, catching sebastian's proud smile before you return your eyes to the man who got on his knee for you.

"and actually," you say, as you wrap up your vows, "on our first date, you asked me what's my favourite colour." you look up with a small smile.

"i actually didn't have one. i said blue, because they're the colour of your eyes. i've never seen blue the same ever since," you smile. "i could probably live in it now."

general taglist: @cashtons-wife

[violetmuses]

Can't Get Enough - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Title: Can't Get Enough - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: When Armando Aretas returns to Miami, one familiar face shows up sooner than later.

Tag List: @nelo0wesker @yassbishimvintage @nobodygetsza @peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @deja-r @hyper-trash-panda @amethyst-loves-bucky 🏷

======

2024

Traveling around the world pulled strings for quite some time, yet Armando Aretas returned to Miami, Florida on this bright and sunny afternoon.

“What's up, man? I'm parked outside.” Detective Mike Lowrey stepped forward to dap Aretas up.

After facing many questions or encountering secrets over time, Mike would take responsibility here and stand up as Armando's biological father.

“Thanks for picking me up.” I didn't know who else to…” Armando trailed off.

“It's fine.” Mike then completely understands this point, whispering. “I'd feel better if you stayed with us anyway. Someone else might call authorities before you could even settle in.”

“Yeah.” Aretas genuinely struggled to express himself. I'm just…”

“Tired?” Mike asked.

“That's putting it nicely.” Armando shrugged before joining the classic Porsche. “Can we drop it, though? I don't wanna bum you out with my bullshit.”

“That's fair.” Mike attempted to ease the situation once more.

“Yeah.” Armando speaks up again, thankful while air conditioning chilled down the vehicle.

_______

Until further notice, Armando settled in the guest bedroom located upstairs. Very few belongings took space when Aretas organized essentials.

After taking this much-needed shower, Aretas headed downstairs and noticed that Christine Lowrey, Mike's wife, had returned.

“Hey. Did you just get back?” I didn't hear the garage.” Armando already observed different parts of the house.

Mike married this remarkable person named Christine, a physical therapist. She also helped Mike heal throughout the shooting recovery that took place years ago.

“I drove back from work early because you were here, Armando.” Christine smiles.

“What? You didn't need to…” Aretas feels shocked in a quiet way.

“Of course.” Christine then laughed for just a moment. “Ready for lunch?”

“Thank you.” Armando nodded, joining the kitchen table with Mike before Christine sat down.

Peace.

*****

“Time to work.” Driving his classic Porsche, Detective Mike Lowrey pulled up to the Miami Police Department by morning.

“That's our job Armando left the passenger seat.

“Got jokes now?” Mike laughs while entering this well-known precinct.

“No.” Armando declined, walking toward the briefing room to join others.

Right when Armando and Mike genuinely sit down together, one voice called out:

“Nephew!”

Detective Marcus Burnett, Mike's longtime partner and best friend, reached that briefing room this time. Staff members chuckled around this space.

“I know.” Even Mike shook his head.

“Habla demasiado.” Slyly pointing toward Burnett, Armando whispered to Mike and used his native language of Spanish.

“Your Uncle Marcus.” Shrugging, Mike laughs for real.

“Está loco. ¿Recuerdas la fogata?” Aretas expressed the campfire nonsense.

“Yeah.” Mike nodded, ending the conversation before Marcus sat down.

“What'd I miss?” Burnett veiled Skittles in his pocket despite showing up early this morning.

“Uh-uh.” Disappointed, Mike arched his brow toward Marcus.

For once, Armando held back laughter while observing.

When Captain Rita Secada stood behind the podium and began this meeting, everyone settled for business.

Here we go. Aretas thought.

*****

“Seeing an informant today.” Mike gathered with Armando and Marcus in the hallway.

“Cool. Are they coming to the station?” Marcus genuinely questioned his partner.

“Going to her place.” Mike grounded location details. “It's too risky if the public learns our assignment.”

Her? Armando stood puzzled by curiosity this time around. Who could help us with this drug case?

Silent, Armando joined the car, exiting with Lowrey and Burnett to figure everything out.

______

Sunlight warmed all around Florida palm trees that lined up near gorgeous homes.

Within seconds though, Aretas became silent for once.

Navigation signaled your old address.

When that door finally opened, you emerged and sent Armando through an inward tailspin.

His expression turned unreadable for this assignment, but feelings pulled in so many ways.

“Hey, Mike.” You cleared your throat. “I didn't know that y'all would come over so early.”

“Bad timing?” Mike didn't even know what to think.

“Not at all. Just finished cleaning the house.” You declined, silently welcoming Marcus and Armando through. “What's going on?”

“Whenever you're ready, we need some intel, all right?” Mike questioned. “Pushers started running again, especially in clubs this summer.”

“Okay.” You nodded, watching your hands to set the kitchen table for guests. “Let's do it.”

_______

“You good?” Mike noticed immediately that Armando wasn't talking and excused himself from the table.

“We knew each other.” Aretas exposed new information and revealed your bond.

“What, seriously?” Gobsmacked, Mike almost clenched his teeth over Armando's connection to you.

“It's a long story, but yeah.” Aretas went on just a little more. “We met right before my mother escaped prison.”

“Damn…” Mike stepped back through disbelief right now.

“Mike!” Marcus called from the living room out of nowhere.

Returning to that living room, Mike and Armando see Marcus facing pictures on the walls.

Armando smiled, beaming like an adorable goofball throughout various photographs.

“Are y'all together?” Marcus pointed between you and Aretas.

“We broke up.” You say.

“But y'all still have pictures organized around the house!” Marcus pulled theatrics.”Might as well get a dog too.”

“My mother got in the way, but I don't wanna talk about it.” Aretas planned to work instead.

No other choice.

*****

Red and blue overcasts hit various neon hubs that grooved throughout South Beach. The police department just locked down monsters again.

That same night, Armando returned to your house and turned off the news, just grateful that you were okay.

“Can we try again?” You glanced down and realized that Aretas nearly fell asleep on your couch.

“Hmm?” Armando wakes up, grumbling to seek long-awaited kisses.

“Can..we…” You trailed off that response when his now gentle lips met yours and made up for lost time as he smiled for real.

Just when your fingers smoothed his beard, one cell phone rang.

Leaving his warm embrace, you frowned when Armando picked up the call.

“Hello?” Despite so many years passing, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Sorry. Marcus is losing his mind right now.” Mike spoke up.

“No more Skittles?” Armando tried first.

“Uh-uh.” Mike refused that idea. “It's not about snacks. He's looking for you.”

“What's up?” Armando questioned his father while puzzled.

“He's acting really paranoid about your relationship.” Mike told the truth.

“I don't care.” Armando defended himself and only watched, concerned.

“I'll deal with Marcus. Just know that I'm happy for you, all right? Bye.” Mike hung up and left Armando with you once more.

No matter what happens next, you'll never lose each other again.

[bl-bracket]

Deserved Better Round 1: Porchay (Kinnporsche: The Series) vs Wen Ning (The Untamed)

[Submitted Reasons Under Cut]

Porchay: "Come on! He just wanted his wattpad moment and all he got was heartbreak. Yes, Kim is emotionally constipated, but look at chay! How could you lie to him and say you never loved him! And then try to apologize to him by stealing a song he originally wrote about his brother?! Chay deserved so much better than what kim put him through. (Also wtf Porsche. Now that you’re the head of the minor family, you’ve gone and gotten your brother even more involved in the mafia. What happened to protecting him?)"

"He’s a sweet baby Angel of a boy who was orphaned at a very young age and raised by his older brother who was also a child and an uncle with a serious gambling problem that pit them in major debt to loan sharks who regularly show up and trash their house. Then when things are finally looking up his brother suddenly disappears in the middle of the night with only a note saying he’s working on a private island and his uncle has seemingly vanished too. He’s left alone and the only bright spot is that he gets to meet his famous idol/crush who starts to tutor him and flirts with him and they start some form of relationship. He even shoots his shot and admits his feelings and gets a kiss and a cuddle on the couch in return and things are looking great, except oh no! He gets kidnapped by a mafia because it turns out his brother works for the mob now and Chay’s entire life gets uprooted out of nowhere and he has to go live with the mafia where he finds out that actually his idol/crush/almost boyfriend is actually a mafia heir who is spying on him for info on his brother. He confronts him and gives Kim a chance to fix things by saying any part of their relationship was real but he just says he wouldn’t have bothered to spend time with chay if he didn’t need info on his brother and leaves him sobbing on the ground. He’s so destroyed by the whole thing he gives up the university dream he’s been working so hard for, dyes his hair blue and goes on a partygirl spiral in an attempt to move on only for Kim to show up and get angry acting like he has any day in chays life and when he confronts him (giving him yet another chance to fix it if he just admitted his feelings) he gets angrily dismissed and left behind by Kim AGAIN. He blocks him but Kim keeps trying to contact him, not letting him move on. Then his brother suddenly grabs him in the middle of the night and hides him at a bar during a mob war where he eventually turns around to find the traumatizing sight of dead bodies everywhere. After all that is done he finds out his mom isn’t dead but has been atticwifed by the crazy mob boss whose apparently his uncle and he actually could have had a parent his whole life, except she’s essentially in a waking coma and doesn’t even really react to him. Oh and Kim is still trying to contact him and sends him a YouTube ukulele apology video that doesn’t actually include the words I’m sorry or I love you. To top it all off the show ends without him ever getting a happy ending. My poor, sweet boy."

"Chay was just living his life (occasionally getting beaten up by loan sharks) and got to experience the joy of a Wattpad fanfic by dating his musical idol. Unfortunately for him his idol started dating him to get dirt on his brother. And he also gets kidnapped because he’s evidently the most kidnappable man in Thailand. Said idol also breaks his heart."

Wen Ning: no propaganda submitted

[enbyman]

Another snippet of that AU:

"Does this kind of thing still exist?" She asked, amused, looking at the man squatting on the floor. She puts one foot in front of his view and smirks, "Nice to know one of the antique relics of your time, tío."

Chico snorted and pushed her foot away, making her walk backwards. She smiled again and bent down to his level, watching him adjust the frequency of the little radio on his hands. It was a really old thing, old and rusty covering, as if it were older than time itself. But there he was, focused on the nearly impossible task of making that thing work.

Carmen tilted her head, watching the tuning knob being turned over and over. Only static was coming out in the air. Nothing discernible as they remained on the ground, side by side.

After a few seconds of watching him in silence, she sucks on her lower lip.

"This junk will not work."

Chico immediately frowns, throwing an ugly look at her.

"First of all," He points a finger at her, "Isn't junk. Just because you kids can't understand how things that don't have a touch screen work doesn't mean they're worthless." Then he smiles, eyes squinting, hand reaching out to touch her face.

He pats her cheek and says, "Shut your mouth a little."

She grimaces.

Cackling, he returns to his task, "Don't you have anything to do?" He nudges her a little with his elbow. "Or are you one of those weird teenagers who never leave the house?"

Carmen snorts, "The pot calling the kettle black. Dude, you came to town and so far you've only hung out with me." She rests her chin on her hands, "Oldass men shouldn't keep up with people of their age?"

Chico's lips lift slightly, continuing to adjust the frequency. Static and static crackled in the air as he spoke, "I don't know anyone here."

She stared at him.

Right, she just remembered.

There was nobody in that city anymore.

There was nobody for him.

Who would he hang out with?

She blinks quickly, sucking at her lower lip again.

They both kind of had no one to hang out with.

They quite had a lot of things in common.

"And well," Chico continues, catching her attention again. When she looks at him, he winks, "I prefer you, carmenita."

She wrinkles her nose at him, but still feels a warm feeling flourishing on her chest.

Something in her told her that this was sincere.

He really seemed to enjoy spending time with her. Even though he didn't understand half of the things she told him, like the new painting techniques she had learned in her art class, about the little she knew about technology, news about bands he had never heard of or about her long-and-never-ending war against that shitty reality show she liked to hatewatch on her Saturday nights. Even if he didn't grasp everything single little thing of her universe, he seemed extremely committed to absorbing it.

That meant she was kind of cool, right? That he liked her?

(That meant that he would stay?)

She wouldn't mind having Chico for the rest of the summer, even if her grandmother got in a bad mood because of his presence. She liked having someone to talk to and watch trash with. Liked to smoke with him in the backyard while looking at the sky. Liked just....having him around.

Having someone.

She missed that.

"Wait," He raises his hand, bringing the radio close to his ear.

She is one step away from asking but stops when she hears.

The static.

There was something understandable among the annoying buzz.

That thing was still alive. Somehow.

As they listened, they realized it was some preaching on one of those Christian radio stations, but it was still something.

Chico laughs excitedly and drapes his arms around her, standing up and lifting her at the same time in an instant. Then he ruffles her hair.

"Tell me, isn't your uncle a fucking pro?" He shows her one of his big smiles, eyes crinkling with the weight of his joy.

It was still an old radio. It would probably stop working again. She still thought it was junk.

But she smiled anyway, feeling him bringing her towards his warmth. Sharing that small thing with her.

And as he hugged her, she concluded.

Yeah, she liked that.

[vanillabourbon]

the first of many. | intro | ongoing tlou series

story summary. joel arrives at Jackson twenty years after the outbreak with a young girl that cares for him just as much as he cares for her. little did he know, he would soon meet someone else that would urge his returning sense of humanity one step further.

introductory chapter warnings. weaponry. alludes to suicidal thoughts and behavior. mentions of blood and violence. wounds. kinda sad ngl but let’s call it canon. pls let me know if i missed anything.

story pairings. joel miller x reader, tommy miller x platonic!reader

words. 11k (i went a bit overboard, hehe, but editing is going slow so pls ignore any obvious mistakes. this is the first work i’ve taken seriously so please enjoy :))

-

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

The mind and the body’s initial response is always denial – denial of things, of circumstances, and of situations that are too radical, too unconventional, to believe.

How could anyone believe the events of things as they were? Social and societal constructs had been dismantled in a matter of hours, as if the very fabric of everyone’s being had been tied together by a mere string. The justice and sovereignty in belief, in trust in the nature of things themselves, was apparently so fickle, so haphazardly constructed in the first place, that it took a rapidly spreading infection to displace and make known just how unsafe anything is from harm.

No one should be shocked, really. Least of all you.

In hindsight, which is the only perspective anyone can rely on at a moment’s notice, everything gave way to regret and humiliation. How had no one seen this coming? Everything up until that point in time suddenly seemed so obvious – so commonsensical. It was as if someone had balled up every bad thing and every imperfect thing until it could no longer withstand its own constraints and, instead, chose to flow directly toward the seemingly permanent. 

There’s always an element of impermanence in the seemingly permanent.

For whatever reason, now, only a day had passed since the events that led to an abrupt collapse in society as you knew it. You wanted to believe the best – that society and the nature of man would prevent anything from happening. You trusted that the condition of humanity would never outweigh the moral weight of integrity and righteousness. You told yourself that the militant responses of the government were out of necessity and that order and control would fall soon after – or, at least, eventually.

Whether you truly believed that or not no longer mattered.

You were being ushered through the city of Chicago by your older brother, trailing after your uncle, aunt, and two cousins in the wake of another riot. It was dark, darker than any time you had ever stepped foot through the streets of Chicago. And it was bare. Every skitter and harsh knock of a tin trash can sent your brother’s nerves into overdrive; his fingers dug into the flesh of your forearm, dragging you beside him with every step he took. His vice-like grip pained you, but you didn’t bother to tell him that.

You did exactly what he had instructed you before: keep quiet and avoid eye contact.

Military brigades sat empty in the torn and destroyed city streets. Fires engulfed and illuminated countless buildings – convenience stores, pharmacies, mini marts, miscellaneous retail stores. For a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a young boy, no older than your small cousins, ducking behind a fire hydrant. Tiny fingers braced against the stained red paint, gripping the rusted bolts as if a life depended on it. Maybe it did. But the boy was gone when you chanced a look back.

“Eyes forward,” your brother mumbled.

You didn’t bother to argue. You were far too consumed with wandering, catching stray remnants of the world around you in your peripheral. Anything and everything surrounding you seemed too fantastical, like a stupor you were unable to shake yourself from. The tall, familiar skyscrapers were in stark contrast to the now empty storefronts and abandoned vehicles.

Even though it felt like the end of something, it seemed like the start of something else. Of what, you didn’t know.

Regardless, you wanted to make no effort to distract or distress your brother any further. You’d never seen him so laser-focused, so adamant about one thing, in your life. It was clear that safety was his top priority, and the thought sent your mind and your heart reeling. 

Even if your brother hadn’t been dragging you toward Lawrence Avenue, you felt that your feet would have been bumbling about of their own accord. You were sure they weren’t moving because of anything you were doing. Your mind was elsewhere, eyes flitting to and from every glimpse of dark corners and shattered glass you dared to witness. Surprisingly, it wasn’t fear bubbling up and threatening to overtake your every sense; it was surprise, perhaps confusion. 

Your gaze would’ve gotten lost down a dark side road as you were marched by it, but you were torn from your daze. A slight stumble, the slip of a toddler’s foot, caught everyone by surprise. One of your cousins rested in an awkward heap a few feet in front of you, ground having scraped her knee and stray debris nearly slicing her palm as she braced herself. Among stray tires and pieces of burnt wood, she looked so small, so petite. Her face twisted in pain and sadness as she turned about, first to you and your brother as you approached then to her parents only a few steps away.

Without missing a beat, your uncle ushered your aunt forward, pushing her lower back and guiding her to keep going. He did the same with his young son before going back and reaching down, scooping up his daughter from where she lay on the pavement with one hand and reassuring her with the other.

Momentarily, his eyes flitted toward you and your brother. It was the first time he had turned to look at either of you since you started your trek. For a moment, you wondered if he was about to say something. 

But he didn’t. He only locked eyes for a second, maybe longer, before he was turning on his heels and picking up his pace to a light jog.

Only minutes had gone by before your family’s pounding footsteps were quieted by shouts and gunfire. A frighteningly sudden halt came when you all jolted to a stop. If things were still, you would’ve been gracious for the moment to rest your feet, for the chance to catch your breath and rock back on your heels to ease the pain from your soles. The act of running was starting to take its toll – stripping and coercing your composure and relief from their rightful place.

Calm felt so far removed. Even more so when the gunfire ceased and a loud, nearly automated voice came over a distant speaker: “ALL REMAINING CIVILIANS MUST REPORT TO ONE OF TWO EMERGENCY MEDICAL CAMPS.”

A tan army vehicle passed by your group just then. It rolled passed, and you all did a poor attempt at ducking into the shadows. Your brother’s grip tightened, if that were even possible, and dragged you to his side. Your breath caught in your throat until the back tire of the vehicle disappeared from sight, rolling down the road and toward the loud din still protruding from two streets over.

Whoever was among the shouting didn’t matter. It was clear that there were a lot of them, and that scared you. The streets had seemed so empty, so shallow. For a moment, you could pretend like your family was all that was left, that you all would make it to your aunt and uncle’s vehicle you’d left at airport parking. Maybe drive until you found a place safe enough to sleep. Wake to a world not burnt and bruised on every side.

It was a good dream. A pipe dream, perhaps, but a good one.

Your uncle was the first to move. He wrapped his arms around your aunt and cousins, driving them down a side street a few feet away. Your brother, a slight wild look in his eye, chanced a look around. For a split moment, he looked as if he was going to grab your wrist and keep running, chance a run-in with the military or with a group of people just as scared as the two of you. But he didn’t. He let out a low huff and dragged you toward the same side street.

Your aunt was huddled a few feet away, partially occluded by shadow and rocking one of your cousins in her arms. She was crouched, whispering, or pleading, something in a low voice. It was almost unnerving to watch her come undone.

Your gaze was torn from the sight when your uncle grunted. He was crouched right beside you, tying your other cousin’s shoes. Your cousin’s small hands were splayed across his back as she tried to balance herself.

“Danny boy, you’re with me,” he finally said. He looked over his shoulder and up at your brother. “We’ll run the rest of the way. It’s just a few blocks.”

You furrowed your brow, stepping forward quickly. Danny’s hand was still locked around your arm, but he made no move to stop you nor speak for himself. “Wait, what?”

Your uncle turned his attention back to the small white strings in his hands, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the small shoelaces. “I know we said we’d get the car checked, but it should run just fine. We’ll come back for them in five minutes, tops.” His head was nodding before he even finished his sentence. “Yeah, yeah. Five minutes. Tops.”

“You can’t be serious.” Since he made no effort to acknowledge you, or to look at either of you again, you turned to your brother. “Is he serious?”

Danny was chewing on his bottom lip then, staring down at your uncle with eyes that did not seem in the least bit alarmed. “You sure about the car?”

“Positive.”

“It’ll run?”

“Should.”

At that point, your chest started to heave. Slightly, but heave all the same. A thickness suddenly but slowly started to coat your throat, like someone had lodged a softball right between your esophagus and windpipe.

Danny might’ve been calling your name, but, if he was, you couldn’t hear him. In seconds, he was dragging you backwards until you were pressed into the wall of the closest building. It was some worn-down bar. Your shoulders dug into the brick. “You have to stay here. Okay? With Aunt Lorraine and the twins.”

And that did it – that truly jolted you. “No,” you protested, hands coming up to grip your brother’s forearms. Now it was your turn to dig your fingers into his flesh. Anything to keep him there and grounded, right beside you, where he belonged. “You can’t just leave me.”

“I have to. We can get the car. Skirt downtown and be on our way to Indiana.”

“What about the military?”

“We can get away from them.”

“How?”

“We can.”

“It’s the military,” you deadpanned.

For a moment, you could almost make out a brief glint of humor in his eyes. The side of his mouth perked up, threatening a smirk that always drove you crazy whenever he found hilarity in situations not in the least bit hilarious. But right now, in this moment, it lifted whatever burden was trying to settle like a rock in your chest. Your brother was still your brother. And, to you, he’d never leave you.

“We just can, alright?” He reasoned. “We have to.”

“Well, what happens when we get to Indiana? What if we can’t find a place to stay?”

“You let me worry about that.”

“But, that’s the problem, Danny. You don’t worry about these things.”

You finally broke eye contact then. Pools of tears were beginning to form, blurring your vision and making everything around you swim.

“Well, that’s why I need you, isn’t it? Gives me an incentive to actually come back for you.”

You scoffed, a slight sniffle leaving you as you did. “As if you’d ever leave me behind.”

“Hey, we need to go, kid,” Your uncle said.

Afar off, he had long since stood and was waiting for your brother at the mouth of the street. When you turned toward him, he looked away, chancing a quick look both ways before exiting the shadows entirely. He loitered there, clearly waiting for Danny to join him.

Your brother had completely ignored him, not taking his eyes off of you for even a second. “Exactly. That’s why you have to trust me when I say I will come back.”

When you returned his gaze, his eyes were as earnest as you had ever seen them. He was telling you the truth and trying his hardest to make sure you believed him before he took off. You did, of course, but something was making every nerve in your body hot and every hair on your head stand. Something wasn’t right.

“I trust your word, Danny, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” 

And something told you he didn’t mean himself and your uncle. 

He urged himself forward, pressing a hard kiss to your forehead. He stayed there for a few seconds, crushing you to his chest, before abruptly letting go. He determinedly strode down the street, meeting your uncle on the sidewalk with a firm nod. 

Before he disappeared, he turned once more to you and added, “I’ll see you again.”

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

If Joel could give voice to the crushing weight of a broken heart or the sudden unwillingness to yield to the innate response to keep going, he still wouldn't be able to properly identify it as true sorrow.

He still couldn’t quite pin it – anger, disbelief, pity … guilt. Everything had happened so fast, as they always do. But never to him. Calculations and planning, pure thought – the things he was used to and relied heavily on simply because they worked – were nothing compared to the devastation of unpredictability – of spontaneity, the unexpected. As cruel as fate could be, as cruel as life itself could be, there was very little possibility that it could bring about something like this – to take something so pure, so innocent, as a life. A child’s life.

A life for a life, he determined.

“Swear?” Sara had asked. Long ago now, it felt like. Something about a birthday cake, but the softness in her voice had sent Joel’s heart pumping with love and affection.

“On my life.”

A woman screamed somewhere to his left. His brow twitched, and, for the first time, he became semi-cognizant of his surroundings. A makeshift medical camp was teeming with victims, families, military and doctors alike, swarming and descending around him. White lab coats and camouflage armor were a hazy swirl as frenzied bodies wheeled grocery carts, gurneys, wheelchairs, beds – anything they could find – all through one Austin plaza. 

For one second, one split second, Joel could vividly picture himself and Tommy driving by here on the way to pick up supplies not even two months earlier. He had been laughing, then. Shaking his head at something his brother had said to diffuse his anger for having been late the morning of.

Joel had been clutching a juice box then, too. A ‘good source of vitamin D.’ It felt small and strange in his hand at the time. Foreign. An odd replacement to the coffee usually growing cold in his tired grip. But he had promised her. Even when she threw a smile over her shoulder and clamored out of the truck to bound across her school’s parking lot, he didn’t let the box go until he’d drunk it all. Even when the memory was fading now, lost to a couple of weeks and now permanently overwritten by the last time he’d dropped her off, Joel could still feel the box. 

Small. Strange. Like the last image of her now boring into the backs of his eyelids – curling and uncurling her failing grip in his t-shirt with every gasping breath.

Out of nowhere, a woman screamed again. Not loud enough to startle him from whatever depth he was losing his footing in, but still loud. Loud enough to draw the attention of nearby soldiers, who rapidly trained their weapons toward her. They didn’t shoot. They didn’t stand down either.

The woman was on her knees in the middle of all the chaos. A nurse unknowingly side-stepped a soldier and nearly tripped over the wailing woman. She didn’t notice of course. She just knelt there, rocking and shrieking. It took a moment for Joel to notice the small body she was clutching in her hands. A girl. Straight, dark hair thick and spiraling, down her mother’s lap and nearly sweeping the concrete. Her legs were dangling, bedazzled skechers limp and uncanny. There was a trail of blood leading from a misshapen wound – like indents left from teeth – on the girl’s left calf. 

He looked away.

“Joel.” A voice came. Hardly recognizable. Seconds later, Tommy appeared in front of him, hands gripping his forearms and eyes pleadingly searching Joel’s countenance with growing anxiety.  “Joel, c’mon now. Talk to me, brother. Say something.”

He did say something, though it didn’t quite reach Tommy’s ears. He was muttering, balancing himself on the perch of the old gurney beneath him and rocking himself slightly. 

“On my life,” Joel muttered, continuously, trapped in an earlier memory. An earlier conversation. With the only one who mattered.

“Alright, well,” Tommy started, dropping one hand as he scanned the surrounding area. “We need to get you something to cover that hand.” He turned his attention back to Joel, leaning down and pushing forward to take up Joel’s entire field of vision. “I’ll be back, you hear me? Don’t move.”

He was gone almost as fast as he came. At his words, Joel’s eyes dropped to his hand, the one he’d been unconsciously cradling in his lap. Blood dripped, unceremoniously, down the valley of his palm and onto the cracked pavement under his boots. He vaguely remembered lashing out at some guy before being ushered into the camp. In front of some convenience store. He had landed roughly, shards of glass impaling his skin before Tommy got the chance to haul him up and press him to keep running.

There wasn't a single part of him that felt it, though. The gaping wound – the whole ordeal – seemed like a hallucination, like something plucked from the deepest, most submerged part of his consciousness. Something hardly thinkable. Something vicious and unnerving. Something that simply couldn’t be true.

“Dad … Daddy!”

Joel jolted awake. A stray frosting tip fell from his fingers and rolled across the floor until it hit the edge of Sarah’s heel. His vision swam with exhaustion, drowsy eyes sweeping over the kitchen table. A half frosted cake, a bit lopsided and slightly whiter than the yellow version advertised on the box. A frosting bag filled with purple frosting resting precariously on the edge of the table, inches from his hand now numb from laying on it.

In sudden alarm, he turned back to a curious Sarah. “Baby, I –.” When she met his gaze, he just sighed, dropping his shoulders. “What’re you doing up? It’s late.”

“I saw the light,” she said simply.

She bent down, retrieving the frosting tip before ambling over to his side. He watched her every move, weighing every option that popped into his head about what her expression meant. Child-like innocence. Brief reminders of every year he’d spent enjoying her life right before his eyes.

The small gears were shifting in her head; he could see them from here. She was eyeing the cake, if he could even call the mound of crumbled blocks a cake. Her gaze momentarily slid toward him as she neared him. She stopped at his side, a small hand on his thigh indicating her intent. He pushed his chair back, hands easily guiding her up and onto his lap.

“What’re you doing?” She finally asked.

“Figured I’d try my hand at baking. Construction’s getting slow these days. What’d you think?”

His voice was casual, but he was anything but. He had worried his lip in the aisle of the supermarket just at the thought of buying the wrong cake decorations. The moment of truth had come too soon for him. If he hadn’t been so damn tired, if Tommy had gotten the supplies earlier and hadn’t caused the job to go until ten – 

“It’s pretty.”

Her voice startled him, laced with joy and, what seemed like, pleasant surprise. Her back was leaned against him, and he could just make out her face, angled slightly away from him. She was smiling softly at the poor imitation of whatever he’d bought. The only store left open had been out of cake mix, of course. A woman in the aisle with him explained how easily he could make something close to it with this. Easy for her was hell for Joel, but he couldn’t put a price on Sarah’s smile at that moment.

“Thank you. Tried real hard on it.” He was trying for humor, but he meant every word. His attempts were born from a real place – a place that desperately wanted to see her light up the way she did when he forced himself to sit through her favorite movie, when they decorated the Christmas tree early last year, and when he finally let her drive the truck on Tommy’s lap.

The two looked at the excuse for a cake. It was leaning now. A small portion protruding from where Joel attempted to make a flower out of a mold.

“Is it –,” she paused, cautiously, but hopefully, picking her next words. “Is it for me?”

“‘Course, babygirl. This masterpiece of a cake ain’t for just any eight-year-old.”

“I’m not eight yet,” she reminded him. “Except,” she paused again, frowning. “My birthday’s tomorrow.”

“You always wake up so early. Thought I’d try to surprise you by fixin’ it tonight.”

She stared a bit longer before nodding decisively and throwing an arm around his shoulders. She twisted in his lap, eyes and smile beaming up at him. “I would’ve slept in for you.”

Luck. It had to be luck. Joy, devotion, trust, unquestionable love. A child’s eyes swim with all of the above, and one child in particular, his child, was looking at him with all that and more. Her tightly-wound curls framed her small face and swept her tired eyes, but her expression remained the same. Joel’s heart twisted at the sight.

He cleared his throat, hesitant to speak with the growing lump in his throat. “You would’ve pretendin’ to, anyway.” He rose, maneuvering her until he was carrying her comfortably against his hip. “C’mon, now. It’s late. Gotta get to bed if you want your gifts.”

Abruptly, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, daddy.”

He smiled, part of him worried his eyes were growing wet. “Anything for you, babygirl. Happy birthday.”

Joel was torn from his stupor at the sight in front of him – the sight he’d been staring at while reliving a memory he felt fading almost as fast as he began to remember it. It was a boy, barely old enough to be a teenager. His tear-stained cheeks were nothing compared to the way his eyes rapidly and wildly scanned the area. His gaze hit Joel’s for only a second before he was moving on.

“Dad!” he was shouting. “Dad!”

The boy was turning in circles, looking every which way and shouting into the sea of unknown faces. Every so often he was jostled by complete strangers – unnamed faces covered in weaponry, medication, or grief. One man bumped into him so hard he nearly lost his footing. It didn’t matter. It didn’t stop his shouts or his turns or his wild eyes cutting through the masses of people.

“Dad!” 

“Dad … Dad!”

Joel turned suddenly, new reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose and hands gripping a cup of coffee – fresh seconds. His elbow was propped against the kitchen table he had been occupying for the last hour, mountains of papers and file folders splayed across the tabletop along with a black pen resting atop an unfinished tax document. With Sarah now in sight, his eyes briefly scanned the backyard through the patio-door window, where he’d last seen her playing soccer with Tommy. 

His brother, of course, now leaned against their fence with a shit-eating grin on his face as the woman he was talking to from his neighbor’s yard threw her head back in laughter. 

Of course.

Joel’s eyes turned back to Sarah, breathing in feigned annoyance. “What? Jesus, you keep calling my name like that you’re gonna dad me to death.”

She snorted. “If I wanted that, I’d do it more like this – Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad. Da–.”

“No, now that’s more like it.”

With a shake of her head, and a small smile, she wandered closer to him with a simple, “What’re you doin’?”

“Takin’ a break from you.”

She ignored him, stepping close enough to peer over the table. Normally, Joel would shoo her away with an obvious hint that she shouldn’t concern herself with whatever was his job. He didn’t like her looking or hearing about their situation in any way, good or bad. She was supposed to be thinking about soccer and school and zoos and the fair he and Tommy were taking her to later that week. Not any of this.

After a moment, he finally did; he abruptly moved forward, reaching and shuffling the papers into a messy stack.

“Nothing you have to worry about, honey, it’s –”

“Line eight E is repeated three times.”

He froze. “What?”

“Line eight, letter ‘E.’ It’s repeated three times.” For emphasis, she pointed down at the document closest to her.

Joel picked up the paper, letting the black pen slide off of it and land with a soft thud on the paper beneath it. She was right. There was no denying she was right. “Huh.”

“‘Sometimes it’s good to have a second pair of eyes,’” she quoted him, turning and strolling to the cabinet to retrieve a bag of chips. He’d told her that when he let her replace the axle nuts on her bike tire. She’d sworn the nuts wouldn’t rotate until he came over to help. The sentiment worked then, and it was working now. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself, Dad.”

He gave her a look, brows furrowing, but her back was turned. She busied herself pouring chips into a bowl. He tried for humor again, responding, “I’m never by myself. I got Tommy breathin’ down my neck every day. He’s all the help I need.”

The only indication of her response was a slight shake of her head, curly hair brushing, back and forth, between her shoulder blades. A quiet huff, something close to a laugh, escaped her.

“We’re also out of milk.” She threw a reply over her shoulder casually, very obviously avoiding turning around.

For a long moment, his eyes were still trained on her. It took a mental connection, a moment of realization, for his brows to lift slightly. His gaze slid over to a purple sticky note hanging diagonally on the refrigerator. Her frilly handwriting, turned cursive upon entering middle school, etched out ‘Get milk from the store!’ in large letters.

“That’s what the note on the fridge is for?”

She remained silent but finished making her snack, ambling back to his side and taking a seat in the chair beside him. There was no need for her to respond, but Joel’s nerves went into overdrive at any and all underlying insinuations. Was she worried about something? Worse yet, was she worried about him?

“Where’s all this coming from?” he continued.

She shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “You just work so much. More than usual. I just thought – Least I can do is help you some.”

“You really wanna help out around here, maybe you can finally get a job,” he tried, verbally poking fun. “Pick up a few hours.” 

“Oh, ha ha.”

She briefly smiled at him, but the act ended as soon as it began. It was clear something was bothering her. Worry was etched between her brows, and it was then Joel realized that’s how she’d been looking at him all month. Eyes wide and deep with concern; brows furrowed with a tight smile that didn’t seem quite as natural anymore. His heart nearly broke, and he cleared his throat to hide his upset.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I work a lot, and I’m not … around as much as I used to be. I’ll do better. I will. But there’s nothing you need to be worryin’ about.”

She only nodded before adding a soft, “I know.”

“Good. So you also know I love you, babygirl. Not much I wouldn’t do for ya.”

“I know.”

“That all?”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I love you too, dad.”

“That all?”

“Well, I wouldn’t wanna ‘dad you to death.’”

“Oh yeah,” he teased, leaning forward to swipe a few chips from her bowl. He flung one towards her, grinning when a laugh erupted that she couldn’t quite contain. Popping the rest of the chips in his mouth, he warned, “Stop playing with your food.”

The sound of laughter, even from a memory, felt jarring, too rich and too pure for the dark scene unfolding around him. He was long-since aware of his eyes growing wet, and, for once, he didn’t care. Couldn’t bring himself to fear or worry about it. He just stared – from the shrieking woman to the shouting boy to the wide, suddenly imposing, city landscape in the distance. It all felt void, lacking meaning in a meaningless world. 

What was to be gained from this? What did any of them gain from anything?

Someone ran by, bumping into Joel’s gurney and swearing a harsh apology in the process. Or maybe just swearing. He couldn’t quite place it, and he didn’t try to. But the action was enough to remind him of his being; his body felt weightless as he drifted from distant memories to distant memories, deliberately failing to grasp one long enough to replace the bitter nightmare threatening to replay itself, over and over again. Maybe if he’d twisted the other way. Or took a chance on running. Or held her a little tighter. Or –

The gurney suddenly felt rough where his hands were gripping the edge, knuckles white and blistering. Now he could sense pain from his open wound. And maybe that was the point. To sense, to feel, something other than what was threatening to send him spiraling. The recent events were still forming pictures in his mind. Consolidation taking its time as depictions kept reordering and restructuring themselves. Building and tearing down again. It was like his brain refused to settle on any one experience.

Because they were all wrong. It was all wrong. It shouldn’t have happened. Not like this.

Emotions had yet to hit him like a brick wall, and, quite frankly, he didn’t want them to. Not now. Not ever. Sensations were returning, sporadically. There was only one he settled on. He vaguely remembered Tommy slipping a handgun into the waistband of his jeans earlier, telling him he might need it before hoisting him to his feet and pushing him to run. To run like his life had depended on it. Even if he was forced to leave his entire life – a child – lying on the cold ground behind him.

That was the sensation he focused on: the hard lick of metal curling its cool touch against his lower back.

-

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

Waiting is just as agonizing as not. You still couldn’t quite decide if you wanted time to go faster or to go slower. You were, however, determined to maintain as much control over the situation as possible. If Danny could manage a calm head, so could you, for his sake and in his absence. You made sure your aunt was comfortable, reassuring her with a few pats on the shoulder after she’d sunken to the ground. Your cousins kept near her, staring up at you with pure curiosity.

You wondered if they understood, or just how much they understood. For their sake, you hoped they hadn’t a clue. If their silence was any indication, you were sure they were fine, probably more so worried about their mother’s – your aunt’s – tear-stained cheeks than anything else.

You tried your best not to glance at the street entrance every minute, but your head was on a swivel. Time itself seemed to stand still. How could you not wish you could do the same? Stand still, as if holding your breath might make it easier to hear your brother’s footsteps come back to you. His footsteps – loud, heavy, familiar.

That’s what you were thinking about when your uncle stumbled through the mouth of the side street he’d left you in. A purple bruise was forming on the lower left side of his jaw. A streak of blood ran across the chest of his gray shirt. Most disturbing of all, he was completely and utterly alone.

“We’ve got to go,” he said.

He hurried right by you, taking long strides towards his family. After checking his wife and daughter, he crouched and busied himself zipping his son’s jacket.

“Where’s Danny?” You asked.

The question hung in the air – thick and unanswered. He ignored you. Easily. His eyes remained pinned to his son’s body as his fingers fumbled, first with the jacket and then with the cuff of his son’s jeans. 

“Where is he?” You were still calm, then. With no answer, you pulled back and stepped cautiously toward the end of the street, looking down where he’d come from. When no one else came by, you returned to your place a few feet away from your family. “Where’s Danny?”

All action and thought cease to exist when laughter brings forth pure, adulterated delight. Especially for a six-year-old child. Laughter and millions of innocent giggles bubble over and make it easy for small feet to run freely. Untamed footsteps can easily fall in line with grass and get lost to rows and rows of trees.

Lost. So, so lost.

You stood in the middle of a clearing. At some point, your laugh had burned down to a chuckle, then to silence, when you realized how far you’d made it alone. Your brother had teased you, playfully giving chase about a mile back, and you had wonderfully ran and leapt over branches and small creeks. Even climbed over a small boulder. You only came to a stop when your echoes seemed too quiet for two.

“Danny?” You called to no one in particular. “Where are you?”

It only took a moment for the beautiful chirps and snaps of branches to seem daunting, not tranquil. Terrifying, not serene. The stillness of it all threatened to suffocate you and evoke fear where you didn’t think it previously possible. You wanted to back away, but your foot had already nearly slipped on a slick mud spot.

Your eyes bounced, wildly, from one tree trunk to another. An unfamiliar feeling coiled up your back and settled at the base of your neck. The sun was starting to slink toward the horizon then. Which way had you come from? What would happen if you didn’t make it back home? What if Danny had gotten hurt, and you hadn’t both to hear him or stop for him? Had you left him somewhere?

“Danny!”

There was no answer. Only the distant sound of water trickling over rocks and another quick snap of a tree branch waving in the wind. Hot tears trickled down your face as you dropped down, sitting and pulling your knees under your chin. You were lost, but, above all, you had lost your brother.

“Hey, little sis, look what I found!” You nearly jumped out of your skin, twisting around to see Danny stepping around a bush and joining you in the clearing. He looked up to proudly present you with a small frog, cupped carefully in the palms of his hands. “Wanna name him?”

For a moment, you stayed right where you were. A soft cry escaped your lips, but there was an early sense of relief flooding every part of your small frame. You still hadn’t relaxed your furrowed brows or the frown that wound tightly on your face. Fear had gripped you, and you were beginning to realize it was the hardest thing to shake.

It only took Danny a second to realize you were crying, and only a second longer to bound over to your side and drop to his knees. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He set the frog down on a dry patch of grass before fixing an intense stare on you. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, sucking in a breath and releasing a broken sob. “I – I thought you were gone.”

Danny’s shoulders dropped a bit. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” He reached out and set a hand on your shoulder. “I would never leave you, okay?”

You nodded, and he dropped his hand. He let you take a few breaths and calm down a bit before he stood to his feet. 

“I think we should go back now. It’s getting dark.” He stuck out his hand, pulling you to your feet when you slipped your hand into his. “Do you remember our secret handshake?”

“Yes.”

An easy grin graced his features once more. “Good, you can show me when we make it back home.”

He moved to leave, but you pulled him back. Your hand fell from his and pointed down at the frog. “What about the frog?”

“What about him?”

“He doesn’t have a name.” He stood back and looked at you expectantly. “I think we should call him Rex.”

Danny nodded, pretending to be lost in thought for a moment. He tapped his chin with the tip of his finger before smiling down at you. “I like Rex. It’s cool.”

Your smile returned, and you skipped out of the clearing, grabbing Danny’s hand as you went. That’s how it was, and that’s how it should be, when an older brother is so near – when another’s presence soothes the quiet that only loneliness can bring about. Your tears had dried and a glimmer of tranquility returned to the noises in the air and the stillness of the environment. A feeling of safety returned soon after, too, and the discomfort of fear had fallen without your notice.

His word was enough: I would never leave you.

You half expected him to scare you like he had when you were children. To step around the wall and stumble towards you, completely oblivious to your worries and concerns about his whereabouts. You would berate him, maybe smack his arm or chest for sending your nerves into overdrive, but you would most likely pull him into a hug and look him over for any bruises. You kept glancing in the direction of the street, waiting for an arrival that would never come.

“Where’s Danny?”

“Honey,” your aunt tried, giving your uncle a sincere look that read: Please answer your niece.

He ignored her too, setting his hands firmly on his son’s shoulders and giving him a nod. He looked at his son intently, probably trying to reassure him with just one look. With the state the world was currently in, words were starting to fail. All anyone could do was offer some sense of familiarity in gestures and in looks.

But that wasn’t enough for you. It never would be.

In desperation, you moved to grab at your uncle’s shirt. “Where is he? Where’s D–.”

Your uncle stood abruptly, whipping around to face you. You were nearly chest to chest as he leered down at you. “He’s not coming back.”

Your response was immediate, taking a step back as if someone had punched you squarely in the chest. “Wha– What?”

A long, silent moment went by. You could just make out the screaming crowd now nothing but a soft, inaudible sound to your ears. Your uncle dropped his gaze. He looked almost guilty for not being able to offer you the reprieve you were obviously searching for – the answer he just couldn’t give you.

“He’s not coming back, kid,” he said, softer this time. “I– I’m sorry.”

He turned, picking up his son and grabbing his wife’s arm to hoist her up with him. Your aunt held her daughter close to her chest, unable to meet your eyes. There was another moment of silence between you all. They stood there, uncertain. Your uncle refused to meet your eyes for longer than a second, flitting his gaze from you to the street behind you. It was the sound of another military vehicle that finally made him straighten his posture and look you in the eye.

“You need to get out of here. It’s not safe out in the open.”

He turned to jog further down the street, in the opposite direction of where you’d all entered originally. That’s when your aunt offered you a sincere look. “Come with us.”

You made no effort to move. Your feet were cemented to the soiled street; Your eyes still glued to your uncle’s distressed countenance. His words were the only thing you heard: He’s not coming back.

“C’mon, Lorraine. We need to go.”

“We can’t just leave her here, David.”

The military truck came louder now just as the backdoor to the bar slammed open. A man stumbled through the door and landed in a heap of tangled limbs on the ground. A low growl escaped him as his hands fisted the concrete, and he doubled over, twice, in obvious pain. His brown hair was awry, fingers caked in something you couldn’t quite place. The back of his shirt was ripped in various places, and his veiny flesh was exposed; skin long since too inhumane to not deserve the look you gave him. Your eyes blown wide and jaw slack.

The man’s head snapped up, wild eyes looking directly at your aunt.

“C’mon, Lorraine!” Your uncle shouted louder, backing away and pulling his son tighter to his chest. “We gotta go now!”

Your aunt stayed there, frozen in fear. You took a step back, foot catching in a small puddle and sending the man’s horrid attention barreling toward you. The break in harsh scrutiny was all your aunt needed. She took that moment to hug her daughter close and sprint after your uncle. Their retreating footsteps hit like lead to your chest, every step sending you reeling backward as your chest heaved with something closer to alarm than fear.

The man shrieked, scrambling to his feet and running toward you. For a moment, your eyes slid to your aunt and uncle’s distant figures just over his shoulder. A part of you half-expected them to chance a look back, to answer their curiosity about you and your wellbeing. But they didn’t. They didn’t spare a single look, even when they turned sharply and disappeared around a corner.

A deep pain began to throb, harsher now, from the spot Danny had been gripping your arm. The man was within arms length now, hand reaching out to grab that same arm – the arm Danny had held protectively in place.

Your body reacted quicker than you did. You weren’t sure you would’ve reacted at all, if not for the slightest inkling, the slightest hope, that Danny was still out there, somewhere close. Who would come for him if you didn’t?

With a surprised yelp, you turned on your heels and sprinted toward the street entrance – toward the street Danny disappeared down not even thirty minutes before. Gnashing teeth and a horrible stench followed you closely, squirming and throwing itself at you like an animal. You had made it only a few feet in the street before the man tackled you to the ground. Pain erupted from your knees and elbows as you fell with a sharp cry.

A hand pulled your hair, clothes, arms, just about everything fingers could find purchase. You twisted sharply, coming face to face with the man. His teeth came dangerously close to your face and, on instinct, you brought your forearm up to his neck, pushing him away with as much strength as you could muster. You gritted your teeth, but a scream soon ripped from your throat as his upper body pushed further and further down on you. Closer and closer until – 

A shot rang out, and the man’s body went limp.

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

The finality of acceptance had still escaped Joel. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to take anything in that moment as truth, no matter how outlandish it might have been.

Two white coats rushed by, stopping mere feet away. Even among the chaos, their conversation was easy enough to overhear.

“I have a dad asking after his kid.”

“Everyone’s asking after someone.”

“Yeah, but she was here when they arrived. Apparently lost her in all the confusion.”

“Take him to triage. A lot of missing kids there. We just revived one.”

Joel looked up at the new truth being presented to him – a truth that was far easier to accept than the one bombarding his current experience. His feet were carrying him away from his spot of refuge before he could even think. In fact, he wasn’t thinking. He was scanning for her. Curly hair. Eyes looking for him as much as his eyes were looking for her. 

We just revived one.

If there was a possibility she was here, he was willing to take it. He had already accepted that possibility as fact without his own notice. His heart was elated and his chest was rising just at the thought. It was easier, fairer. And in no way was he preparing, or thinking to prepare, for the inevitable crash that always took place when attempting to deny reality.

“By nine, Dad.” Sarah hopped out of the truck, slamming the door behind her. She went to Tommy’s side, hand clamping down on the opened window and eyes boring into her Dad from where he sat in the passenger seat. “You said nine.”

“I know, I know.”

She opened her mouth to add something, but the bell cut her off. She huffed in resignation before pointing at the two of them, each in turn. With a growing smile, she waved and ran towards her school, throwing a quick “Don’t forget the cake!” over her shoulder.

Just as Tommy pulled out of the lot, his eyes slid over to his brother, and his face twisted into a wide grin he couldn’t hide even if he tried. “Jesus, that kid loves you to death.”

At that, Joel couldn’t hide his own smile, even if the weight of Tommy’s words felt heavy on his shoulders. “Yeah, I know.”

A content quiet fell between the two as Tommy maneuvered out of the school lot. Once he was back on the road, his eyes drifted toward his brother a few times before he shook his head. He always did that when something was on his mind but didn’t know quite how to approach it. Especially when it was Joel he was trying to approach.

“I tell you what, Joel. You gotta cut back.”

Joel was no stranger to the topic Tommy was attempting to bring up. He knew he was working like a madman again, picking up projects and stumbling into the house late at night often long after Sarah had put herself to bed.

Still. He acted oblivious. “What do you mean?”

“Sarah, man. You gotta cut back. Spend more time with her. I know you mean well. You want to provide for her, protect her. I respect that, Joel. Hell, everybody sees and respects that. But she’s still young. Still needs you. It won’t be like that always. She’s got a bright future ahead of her. Nothing’s going to take that from her. From you. Nothing’s going to change that. You don’t have to work so damn hard just to keep it that way.”

Joel didn’t say anything, but he offered his brother a brief nod when he glanced in his direction. They both knew he was right.

“Besides,” Tommy continued with a teasing grin, “you need to get a hold on her before she gets too much older. If she’s anything like we were, they’ll be hell to pay.”

Joel grunted. “Nu uh, my Sarah’s too smart. I ain’t worried ‘bout nothing.”

“You say that now.”

“And I’ll say it then.” Joel nodded decisively. “It’s like you said, she’s got a bright future ahead of her.”

“I know, brother, I know. All I’m saying is that you should make the most of it now. These years will be gone before you know it.” Tommy turned to look at him, more intensely this time. “She’ll be gone before you know it.”

The children were many, but the number that resembled her were few. The child they had revived was a boy no older than four and had been revived for reasons unbeknownst to Joel. The inevitable crash of secret humiliation and embarrassment at his own deception led him to a corner, away from the frenzy and uproar in the camp. Two soldiers stood, with their backs toward him and weapons drawn, with their heads on a swivel. But they paid no attention to Joel. Even with the cool metal resting in his hands, safety off and finger poised at the ready. They still paid him no mind. He might as well have been a dead man.

Should’ve been, anyway.

On my life. Not yours, babygirl.

With that thought, he was ready for anything that might come after. Truth be told, he was more than ready. He wanted to pull the trigger, so he did.

But he flinched. Even before the bullet had left its chamber, a part of him was wholly certain that any shot or amount of lead was not meant for him. It was a destiny he was never meant to share, no matter how much he wanted to.

–

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

Four pairs of hands were on you and hauling you to your feet before you could reassess your situation any further. The body slid off of you as you were pulled to your feet; its weight made a sickening noise as it thumped to the pavement at your feet. You were being dragged to an armored truck filled with people – men, women, children. Greedily, you scanned the faces for the only one that mattered. Maybe they’d got him. Maybe they’d saved him, too.

There were a lot of people, but none resembled Danny.

Finally, something broke – anger, bitterness, nauseous … mostly anger. You dug your heels into the pavement, nearly sending one soldier tripping over his feet at your sudden protest. You took the moment of surprise as an opportunity to rip your arm free from his grasp, shoving him away and clawing at the hand still clamped firmly around your other arm. You tried desperately to free yourself, scratching and pulling like your life depended on it. Like Danny’s life depended on it.

“No!” You shouted. “No! Get off me!”

Your doorknob rattled before your brother let himself in, closing the door softly behind him as if he hadn’t already made a world of noise just by entering.

“Jesus,” you started, sitting up in bed, “don’t you know the first thing about knocking?”

“I’ll knock when you stop stealing my sweatshirts from my room.”

Childishly, you stuck out your tongue and crossed your arms. “Fair.”

Without missing a beat, he took three long strides toward your window and looked out, smiling down at something. Undoubtedly his friend’s car, waiting for him in the driveway. “I’m heading out.”

“When are you not?”

“Just open the window for me when I get back, alright?” You got up to join him by the window as he opened it. “I won’t be too late this time.”

“I’m starting to think you like asking for trouble.”

He turned to smile at you – soft, mischievous, winning. Your brother could just as easily ask to leave the house, but he preferred sneaking out. He was defiant just to be defiant, doing so in a way that still made him agreeable and likable. Roping you into his mischief was like a sibling rite of passage, as he put it.

Despite yourself, you smiled back before watching him clamor out of your window. He crouched on the roof, turning to flash you one last smile. “Don’t forget my knock.”

“Three knocks.”

“Always three so you know it's me.” He winked.

“You say that like anyone else would be knocking on my window at one in the morning.”

“You’re right. Because you’re lame.”

“Go before I push you off the roof.”

He grinned widely before turning and inching his way toward the edge. He immediately stopped when you called his name.

“Danny,” you said softly. He looked over his shoulder. “If anything ever happens, don’t be afraid to call the house. I’ll come get you myself if I have to.”

“What could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m serious, Danny.”

“Relax. I know my fearsome sister will always come to my rescue.” He gave a mock salute before jumping down to the lawn. He ran toward the idle car before turning back toward you, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, “Three knocks!”

When the soldier had recomposed himself, he walked back toward you and yanked your arm, much harder this time. Your outburst drew the attention of the others on the vehicle. A mom pulled her child closer to her, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was still out there, missing, and not a single person seemed to give a damn.

“Get off me!” You screamed again, voice breaking as a tear slipped down your cheek. In frustration, you sent a swift kick that the soldier sidestepped easily. “Get off me!”

One soldier finally let you go as the other wrapped his arms around you, pulling you off your feet and carrying you the rest of the way to the awaiting vehicle. Your struggle was rendered useless as he carried you with ease, tossing you onto the truck like you meant nothing. You probably didn’t, not to him and not to anyone. But you knew you meant something to Danny, and you weren’t going to go down without him. Not without a fight.

You pushed off the bed of the truck, attempting to scramble off of it and back onto the street. “Danny!” You shouted, pushing a stranger out of your way and making a quick jump for it. “Danny!”

You were sure you were still calling his name, even when the butt of a gun connected with the side of your forehead.

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

The sound of a weapon firing draws a lot of attention. Namely from uniformed soldiers who were to make sure all civilians had been thoroughly searched and weapons properly confiscated before entering the medical camp.  The mistake was sure to cause one of them trouble, which is probably why they tackled Joel with such ferocity. He was on the ground and surrounded by military and medical personnel before he could blink.

Tommy was shouting his name again, parting the crowd roughly as he clawed his way to his brother. White bandages gripped in his hand. He was searching for him, relentlessly, before catching sight of the commotion. All the while, Joel was calm. The realization hadn’t dawned on him yet; the adrenaline of the deed he was trying to commit had not yet worn off. He was delusional with the loss of will – his volition having been stripped from him through no effort of his or anyone else’s. 

For a second, he let himself believe he was dead. Like some instinctual force hadn’t just caused him to flinch.

Someone hoisted him to his feet; all while someone, most likely Tommy, was shouting, “Don’t shoot him! Don’t shoot him!”

A doctor stepped forward. She flashed a light in his eyes. “Sir. Sir? Can you hear me?”

A trickle of blood slid past his peripheral. It dawned on him that the commotion around him was real – it was happening – and his unfocused eyes finally snapped toward the soldier gripping his arm. His unfeeling expression hidden under his helmet felt familiar. Too familiar.

“Joel,” Tommy warned. He knew his brother well enough to predict his intent. He stepped forward, cautiously, trying but failing to shoo the soldiers and doctors back. He momentarily looked between the wound on Joel’s head and the discarded gun on the ground. He hesitated, partially, but hesitated all the same. “He ain’t sick or nothing.” Tommy turned from the doctors back to Joel. “Joel, listen to me, brother. Let’s get you patched up, alright? Let’s ge–.”

Joel was swinging before he knew what he was doing. He lunged, kicked, and swung wildly, nearly ripping himself from the awkward grip now three soldiers had him in. They were strong; non compliant. They wrestled with him for a moment before another doctor ushered him away.

“Here,” the doctor was saying, “bring him over here.”

 “Careful, I said he ain’t sick,” Tommy butt in, grimacing at the hold they had on his brother. “Joel, calm down. Everything’ll be okay, Joel. Just — Just calm down.”

The soldiers were dragging him to a nearby gurney. A few medical personnel were preparing a syringe somewhere off to his right. He sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight, and every single thing he was doing was an indication of that. Somewhere, deep down, he could hear his brother. Calling for him to stop. Calling for him to settle down before they did something to him. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Maybe they should do something to him. Put him out of his misery. Or subject him to the same fate they subjected her to. It was a cruel thought that they’d spare him – that they’d do everything in their power not to hurt him in the way they hurt her.

They were wrestling him onto his back when his mouth finally caught up to his actions.

“My daughter!” He shouted. “My daughter. You took her.” He leered in the face of the nearest soldier, tears glistening in his eyes. “You took her.”

A needle was being pressed into his skin when a third voice spoke to him, calmly. Another doctor. “Don’t worry, sir. We’ll find her. I’m sure, wherever she is, she’ll be alright, if she’s not already.”

His next protests were weak as his body suddenly relaxed. His eyes fluttered just as Tommy came into view at his side. Tommy just stared at him. Horrified. Guilty. Sad. They both looked at each other, eyes mirroring one another and telling stories neither one of them were ready to say aloud.

–

2023.

The consequence of grief and sudden loss might be unique to the individual, but it is imminent for all individuals. No one can measure the actions or reactions of another. Neither can blame be given or taken away. The repercussions of any event are often cyclical, far outweighing descriptions or explanations. In any one situation, one might fall and another might rise. Or perhaps one and another might both fall. 

With loss, it’s typically the latter.

Joel’s gruff appearance was unmistakable to the people in the Boston QZ. Unsurprising. Like the rumor that swirled around about him after the day’s shifts ended and the people could return to their nightly rituals of whatever placated their poor souls — beer, pills, sex. The former two either stolen or traded for rations.

The rumor didn’t spread far — not past a block, maybe a sector at most. It was a cautious one. A woman told of her inability to toss a child’s body to the flames during her shift. An unforgiving job. A thankless act of service to the QZ that meant discarding the ones killed at the hands of those in authority — by Fedra. Infected. Suspected. Guilty (or not). Didn’t matter. Her story was one that stoked plenty of bitter, angry people who already hated the QZ for their wrongs and misdoings.

But it was Joel who stoked their feelings too — feelings of fear and avoidance. Wordlessly, he had tossed the lifeless child into the awaiting flames with as much absence of emotion as he always displayed. Unfeeling. Unapproachable. Never spoke a word but was somehow enough all on his own – enough to cause others to steer clear, to look away whenever he came around. 

The only one that could tolerate him, that could placate him, was Tess. Something she could use to her advantage and soak in the pleasure of.

Nearly a thousand miles away, you were pacing wordlessly outside a freezer in the back of a restaurant in downtown Chicago. A bitter cry had long-since been muted by the sounds of grunts and a flurry of punches before a familiar face stepped out. He didn’t say anything, even when he walked right by you and wiped his hands on a dirty rag.

You did as you always did — followed at his heels. “I don’t trust this guy, Dallas. He’s lying.”

“You never trust anyone.” His face was serious, but his voice carried humor. You rolled your eyes.

“And for good reason. He’s been lying since I found him by the old medical camp near Lincoln Park.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

He turned to look at you, eyes boring into yours for a few seconds. You were dropping your gaze before the intensity of it all could get too thick. For a moment, your attention bounced around the small kitchen. Your ears caught the quiet voices of your group outside — a good mix of men and women. 

Dallas turned fully, tossing the rag on the floor and standing in front of you with arms crossed over his chest. “What were you doing near the old med bay?”

“I told you.” Your voice had a dangerous edge to it. You shifted your weight to your other foot and finally met his gaze again. “I ran an errand.”

Unconvinced, Dallas nodded. “You were looking for him again, weren’t you?”

He commanded and barked orders well. You usually followed them — usually. But even he wasn’t stupid enough to mention his name aloud to you. Your sibling’s name was never spoken again after you revealed to Dallas that dark night twenty years earlier. But Dallas knew this was about him. He could tell in the way a muscle in your jaw jumped, and you looked away briefly. 

He chuckled. Dark. Low. “Look, I get it. You haven’t been back here in years, and I figured the thought of finding him’s been tempting you since Arizona. But you keep putting the group at risk, and I’ll have to abandon you.”

You snorted. “As if you’d leave me behind.”

“Watch me.” 

He was grinning, a certain humor in his tone that wasn’t in the least bit light or airy. There was nothing indicating that he wasn’t as serious as his darkened eyes meant to be. Something twisted in your stomach, heart plummeting, as your smile dropped at the thought. Only a moment went by before you forced the feeling away, choking the thick emotions down until the only thing you could feel was cold metal being pushed into your hand.

“If you don’t trust him,” Dallas muttered, stepping closer to you as he pressed the gun into your limp palm a bit firmer, “then end it.”

You swallowed quietly, taking the weapon and testing its weight without once looking up at him. You could feel him hovering over you. His heat dripped off of him and pooled at your feet. Deep. Menacing. Unforgiving. His request wasn’t the first time, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. But this time, this one time, some part of you felt off. Something tugged at your lips until you unknowingly frowned down at the tigger your finger hovered over. 

Maybe it was the mention of him. Maybe your emotions were too high and your willingness finally waning. Maybe it was the sister waiting back at the old medical camp, looking for the brother you helped kidnapped and now held hostage in some worn-down freezer. 

“Is this really necessary?” You asked. “If he’s really lying, we can still use him.”

“And have them get to him? He’s a damn liar, sure, but he’s a traitor first. He knows what we did.”

“Yeah, but he did the same to them.” You finally looked back up at him, gun held loosely at your side. “For us. Remember? What else did we expect? For him not to turn on us, too?”

Dallas was quiet for a moment, a long moment. But the way he was peering down at you, with hooded eyes and clenched teeth, didn’t change for a second. “I’ve never stopped to question you. We are the only two here. I never left you.”

You knew what he was referencing. Suddenly the group just beyond the thin white door separating the kitchen from the dining area seemed too close, too imposing. Every person in your group was a new face. Their voices were still unfamiliar and discomforting to hear. Your old companions were either dead or dying, snitching to Fedra for brownie points or taking their chances on their own, and Dallas was all you had left...

 He measured the look on your face before leaning in further, adding, “Now’s your chance to prove your loyalty to me.”

Your eyes snapped up at him, mouth now partially agape. Everything you had done leading up to this point had been erased by that measly sentence. Your actions, however gruff and unforgiving, were whittled to nothing before your eyes, and you were made out to be a fraud. Weak. Someone incapable of returning the favor of protection or dishing it out in the first place. The thought made you sick.

With a low huff, you spun on your heels and walked determinedly back to the freezer. You threw open the door to find your old partner, Brett, tied haphazardly to a chair surrounded by two of your guys. At the sight of you, his eyes were blown wide and head shook furiously from side to side. He was shouting something: No. No. No— please, no. But you were already gone, doomed to proving what you had already proved time and time again.

It only took one steady aim before you pulled the trigger.

Your men stood, jaw slack, as Brett’s body fell with a sickening thump. Your knees suddenly felt wobbly as adrenaline seeped from your body in waves, nearly doubling over as a pain hit your chest. You sniffed, waving the barrel of the gun between the two men before pointing it in Brett’s direction.

“Clean this up.”

Perhaps — for you and for Joel and for anyone else — the mind and body’s first instinct is denial. Perhaps sorrow cannot be given a true voice. Perhaps acceptance is far more brutal than the precious time one can spare living a half truth. Whatever the reason, manifestations of pain and suffering matter little when grief goes unnoticed and the heart unattended.

[lurkingshan]

Conflict in My Ride

Oh my poor sunshine babies. In this episode, Tawan finally finds out that Por is a cheating, manipulative, good for nothing trash man, and even worse, that Mork has known that for a long time and kept it from him. It’s the first time the trust has been broken between them, and while Tawan forgives Mork quickly, you can see that Mork really understands how deeply he fucked up and will learn from this.

My Ride was written by the same team who did La Pluie, and just like in that show, the conflict in the romance was carefully constructed and given the appropriate scale for the type of story they’re telling. La Pluie is a big damn Romance dealing with a fantasy mythology and some hot-headed and stubborn characters, so there they needed to go big. In My Ride, we have a much quieter slow burn between very gentle characters, so the conflict was built to match.

And so in this episode we see Tawan:

Realize something really fucked up is going on, and that Mork knows about it but won’t tell him

See with his own eyes that Por is scum (and his boyfriend, Top, is a manipulative asshole too)

Tend Mork’s wounds in the aftermath of the fight but still ask for space

Have himself a little sad boy cry and lie down in the rain

Forgive Mork immediately upon recovering from his emotional outburst and then return the care Mork gave him by cooking him food

Have himself another good cry and ask our favorite uncles for advice on maintaining a good relationship

Contemplate whether he’s ready to delete Por from his life (hit the fucking button Tawan)

Tawan is a kind, even-tempered, and well-adjusted person, so that’s about as mad and dramatic as he’s ever going to get. He doesn’t need any grand gesture from Mork—he knows him well enough to know why he kept the secret and he can forgive him easily. And crucially, he’s already comfortable enough with Mork to ask for the space he needs to process and feel confident Mork will give it to him and it won’t damage their relationship. After his initial surprise, he isn’t really upset to wake up naked in Mork’s bed because he knows Mork would never take advantage. Even though he has caught Mork hiding something, he still trusts that Mork respects him and has his best interests at heart.

And on Mork’s side of things, you can see how much he regrets not coming clean with Tawan about what he knew. He got caught up in his protective instincts and anxiety about his own motives and lost hold of his logic. He should have known not to trust Por to handle this appropriately, and especially once Top started fucking with Tawan, he should have fessed up. He has now seen that Tawan got very hurt anyway (in a much worse way than he would have hearing this from Mork) and heard directly from his uncles how important honesty is in a relationship that matters to you. It’s all right there on his face in the aftermath—he has learned his lesson and he won’t be making this mistake again.

I love the quiet way this all played out. It felt exactly right for this drama and these characters. And now that we’ve moved through the major conflict, we can spend our final week watching Mork and Tawan get on the same page about what they want from their relationship.

(Tagging watch pals @bengiyo @neuroticbookworm @wen-kexing-apologist @callipigio @manogirl @chickenstrangers @gabrielokun @sliceduplife @troubled-mind @blmpff @rocketturtle4. Can’t believe we only have one week left!)