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stylesispunk · 3 months ago

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'Silent Strain' | part I

Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

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summary: Joel and you knew that bringing a child into this mad world was a mistake, but he wanted to give you the best that was left of that world after all.

w.c: 12,6k (this was 5k at the beginning)

warnings: established relationship, age gap (Joel is 43 and Reader 32) angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, fluff, not proofreading, sorry. The events of this story happen 10 years after the outbreak.

a/n: New Sunday, new fic? This one was on my drafts and I thought about developing a little bit more because I wanted to write one where Joel wasn't an asshole. This may become a really short series. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Mornings in the QZ were far from a story teller, always bleak as any other, somber and carrying the weight of the guilty grieving each people who has survived this far dealt with.

Many people had become the worst versions of themselves, just monsters they never thought they would be. Others woke up with the survivor’s guilt, after years of letting go their people, family and friends.

And others carried all that, but had found a little spark shinning on their path.

That was your case.

And Joel’s too.

You both had found each other just a few years after the world descended into chaos. After that, you become each other’s anchor until now.

Even when days seemed to be grayer, even when Joel seemed a bit lost after losing his contact with Tommy.

Even on days when the world seemed grayer, even when Joel seemed a little more distant—his thoughts lost somewhere along the frayed edges of his mind, burdened by the loss of contact with Tommy—you held on. You knew what he was feeling; it was a familiar ache, a common wound you both carried.

Tommy was Joel’s last person who shared his blood. His brother, his last piece of family and what the old world had left him.

But he also had you, and that made him alive.

You woke up slowly, the thin, rough blanket tangled around your legs, the mattress beneath you creaking as you shifted. The air was cold, seeping through the cracks in the walls, and the faint light of dawn barely penetrated the small, grimy window. Outside, you could hear the sounds of the QZ waking up, the distant, muffled voices of guards changing shifts, the echo of boots on concrete, and the occasional shout. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, trying to keep the chill at bay.

The room you and Joel shared was small, barely large enough for the bed and a rickety chair in the corner. Outside the doors, there was the rest of the old apartment that worked as a roof for the both of you, and Tess.

The walls were stained with years of neglect, paint peeling in long strips, revealing the bare concrete beneath. There was a small table near the window where a lone candle had burned down to a stub, wax pooling on the surface, solidifying in random patterns. It had been another long, sleepless night, the dark hours stretching on endlessly, and you could feel it in your bones, an ache that went deeper than simple tiredness.

You glanced over at Joel, still asleep beside you, his face etched with lines of worry even in rest. He lay on his side, one arm slung over his face, his brow furrowed as if he were fighting off some invisible enemy in his dreams. The mornings were hardest on him, you knew. Waking up to the same bleak reality day after day, the hope of finding Tommy growing thinner with each passing moment.

A wave of nausea hit you unexpectedly, a sudden queasiness that made your stomach twist. You shut your eyes, taking a slow, deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You hadn't been feeling well for a few days now, just a lingering discomfort you chalked up to the lack of proper food or maybe stress. Nothing in this world was kind to the body or the mind anymore.

You pushed yourself up, careful not to wake Joel, and swung your legs over the side of the bed, your feet touching the cold, cracked floor. The chill ran up your legs, making you shiver. You sat there for a moment, steadying yourself, pressing a hand against your stomach as if trying to calm the unease that rolled there. There was a strange heaviness to it, something that seemed different, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

The thought crossed your mind, quick and unbidden, a possibility you immediately pushed away. It was too absurd, too impossible to consider. Not here, not now, not in this broken world.

You rose to your feet, steadying yourself on the edge of the table, your fingers brushing against the melted wax. You glanced back at Joel, who still hadn’t stirred, his breathing deep and even. You knew he needed the sleep, needed a moment of peace, however fleeting. You moved quietly toward the window, peering out through the dirt-streaked glass. The world outside was shrouded in mist, the familiar shapes of the crumbling buildings barely visible in the pale morning light.

There was a time when you might have found the sight beautiful, in a melancholic way. Now it just seemed desolate. Empty.

Another wave of nausea hit, stronger this time, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, swallowing hard. You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself. You felt a sharp pang of fear, a sudden flash of panic that cut through the fog of morning fatigue. You forced it down, tried to stay calm. You couldn’t afford to be anything else.

From behind you, you heard the faint rustle of the bed as Joel shifted, his voice rough and low. “You, okay?” he murmured, still half-asleep, his words slurred with exhaustion.

You turned to look at him, forcing a smile, though you weren’t sure he could see it in the dim light. “Yeah… just a bit cold,” you lied softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He blinked at you, eyes heavy-lidded, and then nodded, seeming to accept it. “Come back to bed,” he mumbled, his voice carrying a warmth that made something in your chest tighten. “It’s still early.”

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling the cold air around you, the uncertainty pressing in. But then you moved back to the bed, sliding in beside him, feeling the heat of his body radiating through the thin layers of fabric. He reached out, pulling you close, his arm draping over you protectively, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of safety as Joel stirred Joel stirred, his hand rubbing small, soothing circles on your back. “Are you sure you are, okay?” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

“Yeah,” you whispered, hoping he couldn’t hear the lie in your voice. “Just a headache.”

He kissed the top of your head, the simple gesture sending a pang of guilt through you. “You’ve been getting a lot of those lately,” he noted, concern creeping into his tone.

You forced a smile, even though he couldn’t see it. “Just stress, I think.”

He hummed in response, not entirely convinced but willing to let it go for now. He gently nudged you off his chest, propping himself up on one elbow to get a better look at you. His eyes searched your face, and you had to fight the urge to look away. Joel had a way of seeing right through you, and you were afraid he might catch a glimpse of the truth you were hiding.

He frowned, clearly not convinced. “You’ve been saying’ that a lot lately. Maybe you should rest today, stay in bed.”

You shook your head, knowing you couldn’t afford to take a day off. Life in the QZ was unforgiving, and everyone had to pull their weight. “I’ll be fine. We’ve got too much to do, and they’re already short-handed at the ration line.”

You forced yourself to follow suit, pushing through the lingering nausea as you pulled on your worn clothes. The headache throbbed with each movement, but you bit back the discomfort, determined not to let it show. Joel kept glancing over at you, as if expecting you to collapse at any moment, but you just offered him a reassuring smile, even if it didn’t reach your eyes.

Once you were both ready, you stepped out into the harsh reality of the QZ. The streets were crowded, people moving about with a sense of urgency, always on edge. You and Joel made your way through the throng, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you through the chaos.

At the ration line, the day passed in a blur of monotonous tasks—distributing food, managing the restless crowd, keeping an eye out for trouble. But the ache in your head never fully faded, and every now and then, you had to pause, closing your eyes for a moment to steady yourself.

Joel noticed, of course. He was always watching, always worrying, though he tried to hide it behind a gruff exterior. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked again when you took a brief break, his tone betraying his concern.

“Yeah, just… It’s probably just the air or something,” you said, shrugging it off. But you could tell he didn’t believe you.

“See you later, then?” he asked before parting ways with you to your different duties.

“Yeah, see you later,” you replied, forcing a smile, trying to reassure him. Joel lingered for a moment, his eyes searching yours, he planted a kiss on your lips before turning to head off to his assigned area. You watched him go, feeling a mix of guilt and relief. You hated lying to him, but what could you say? That the world seemed to be spinning just a little bit too fast? That every time you bent over, a wave of nausea washed over you? It would only make him worry more.

The hours dragged on, the sun creeping across the sky, bringing with it a sticky heat that clung to your skin. By midday, your headache had grown worse, a steady throb that pounded behind your eyes. The noise of the crowd seemed to amplify the pain, voices blending into a harsh cacophony. You rubbed at your temples, willing it to stop, but it only seemed to make it worse.

At one point, while lifting another crate filled with canned goods, a sharp pain shot through your abdomen, causing you to drop the box with a loud thud. A few people nearby turned to look, but you waved them off, trying to catch your breath. The soldier supervising the line glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “You good there?” he asked, his tone half-concerned, half-annoyed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you muttered, bending down to retrieve the cans that had spilled onto the ground. Your hands shook slightly, and you felt a bead of sweat roll down your back. The soldier didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further, turning his attention back to the line.

“Then clean the mess you made” he ordered.

You nodded, swallowing down the nausea that threatened to rise again. “Yes, sir,” you replied, bending down to pick up the cans. Your fingers felt clumsy, and every time you moved, the pain in your abdomen seemed to sharpen, making it difficult to keep your breathing steady. Sweat dripped from your forehead, stinging your eyes, but you pushed through, determined not to draw any more attention to yourself.

As you gathered the last can, another wave of dizziness hit you, and you had to steady yourself against the crate to keep from toppling over. You glanced over your shoulder to see if the soldier was still watching, but he had already turned away, his focus elsewhere.

You took a deep breath, trying to will away the nausea, when you heard a familiar voice behind you. “Hey, you, okay?”

Turning, you saw Tess standing there, her face set in a concerned frown. “Yeah,” you lied, forcing a weak smile. “Just a rough day.”

Tess studied you for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t look so good,” she said quietly, stepping closer. “You’re pale… and sweating like hell.”

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine, just… tired, I guess.”

Tess didn't seem convinced. Her sharp eyes swept over you, taking in every detail — the paleness of your skin, the way your hands trembled slightly as you held the cans. Her frown deepened, and you could practically feel the gears turning in her head.

“Look,” she said slowly, almost carefully, “I know you well enough to tell when you’re lying. And right now, you’re doing a pretty damn poor job of hiding whatever this is.”

Your heart started to pound in your chest, an uneasy thump that only made the nausea worse. You swallowed, glancing away from her probing stare. “I said I’m fine, Tess,” you repeated, but your voice came out too shaky, too uncertain. Even you didn’t believe it.

She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “Don’t bullshit me,” she murmured, her tone firm but not unkind. “You’ve been off for days now… the headaches, the dizziness. I’ve seen this before. And I’m pretty sure you know what I’m talking about.”

You stiffened, shaking your head quickly. “No, Tess,” you whispered, almost desperate. “It’s not that… it can’t be.”

Tess’s expression softened, but there was still a hint of stubbornness there, a determination to get through to you. “Listen,” she began, her voice a little gentler. “I’m not trying to scare you, but… you need to face this. If it’s what I think it is… then you’ve got a lot to figure out.”

“Please, Tess. Not now” you pleaded.

Tess hesitated, her eyes searching your face, but she nodded slowly, relenting — at least for the moment. "Alright," she said quietly, though the concern in her voice hadn’t faded. "But you can’t keep running from this forever."

You felt a lump in your throat as you looked away, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. "I just… I can’t think about it right now," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "There’s too much going on, and… Joel…"

Tess sighed, crossing her arms. "I get it," she replied softly. "But, you know, you’re not alone in this. Whatever it is, you’ve got people who care about you. Joel might be rough around the edges, but… he’s not going to turn his back on you. Not now, not ever."

You swallowed hard, nodding, though you still felt like you were balancing on a knife’s edge. "I know," you said, though doubt still gnawed at you. "It’s just…"

"It’s scary," Tess finished for you, and you could only nod again, feeling suddenly very small. "But you don’t have to go through it alone, alright?" she added, her voice softening. "I’ve got your back. Always."

You gave her a weak smile, grateful for her support, even if the fear still twisted inside you. "Thanks, Tess," you whispered.

She patted your shoulder, her touch gentle, almost sisterly. "Let’s get back to it," she said, glancing back toward the line. "But promise me… you’ll think about what I said."

You nodded again, though your mind was spinning with a hundred different thoughts. "I promise," you murmured, even though you weren't sure if you meant it.

By the time you got back to the apartment, the sun was already low in the sky, casting long shadows through the broken blinds. Your legs felt heavy, your head still pounding from the stress of the day. As you pushed open the door, you were met with the stale, familiar scent of the small, dimly lit space that you and Joel called home. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the faint creaking of the floorboards beneath your feet.

Your eyes scanned the room, and they quickly fell on Joel sprawled out on the bed, his face slack in sleep. But what caught your attention was the nearly empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the table next to him, beside a few scattered, white pills. A flare of anger ignited in your chest.

You walked over and grabbed the bottle, knocking it down onto the floor. The sound of the glass hitting the wood was loud, but Joel didn’t stir. Frustration bubbled up inside you. “Joel,” you called out sharply, but he remained still, lost in whatever numbness he’d sought.

With a forceful shove, you shook his shoulder, your voice rising. “Joel, wake up!” you demanded. His eyes fluttered open slowly, bleary and unfocused. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision, and groaned.

“What?” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep and whatever haze the whiskey and pills had put him under.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “What the hell, Joel?” you spat out, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and worry. “You’re drinking and taking pills again? You promised me… you promised you’d stop!”

Joel blinked again, pushing himself up on one elbow, confusion and irritation crossing his face. “It’s just… it’s just to take the edge off,” he slurred, running a hand over his face. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I do get it,” you shot back, your voice sharp. “I get that you’re hurting, Joel, I get you want to know where Tommy is but this is not the way.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed, some of the grogginess leaving his gaze. “I’m trying,” he muttered, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “I’m doing the best I can, alright? It’s not that easy…”

You took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “I need you, Joel,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I need you here, with me… not drowning in a bottle. We’re supposed to be in this together, remember?”

He looked away, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. Finally, he let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. “He is my brother, the only family I get left.” he muttered, almost too softly to hear.

“What about me?” you asked, voice trembling.

Damn, why were you getting so emotional.

Joel's brow furrowed, clearly caught off guard by your question. He blinked, as if trying to process your words, and then his expression softened. “What are you talking’ about?” he asked gently, taking a step closer to you. “Of course, you're my family. You know that. You’re everything.” His fingers brushed against your arm, tentative, as though he was still uncertain if you’d accept his touch.

You felt a lump forming in your throat, and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Then why does it feel like I’m not enough?” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Joel's thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “You are, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice steady but soft. “I promise you are. I’m just… I’m scared. Scared of what could happen to you… to us.”

You looked up into his eyes, searching for something—an answer, a reassurance, anything to ease the turmoil inside you. "How are you feeling'?" he asked suddenly, his voice quieter, more tender than before.

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts. "I… I don’t know," you admitted honestly. “Tired…”

Joel nodded slowly, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest on your shoulder. “I know, I get it,” he said quietly. “But you gotta promise me… if there’s something’ wrong, you’ll tell me”

You nodded, “I promise.”

You wrapped your arms around Joel, pulling him into a tight embrace. The warmth of his body against yours was a small comfort, a fleeting sense of security in the chaos that seemed to be swirling around you. As you clung to him, the guilt and the weight of the hidden truth about your pregnancy settled heavily on your shoulders.

Joel held you close, his hand gently rubbing your back, his touch reassuring and steady. “I’m sorry,” you murmured into his shoulder, the words escaping almost involuntarily. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Joel’s arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for,” he said softly. “We’re in this together, you hear me? We’ll get through it. We’ll figure it out.”

You nodded against him, feeling a mix of relief and deep-seated worry. The truth about the pregnancy was still looming, a secret that was becoming increasingly difficult to keep. Every time you looked at Joel, you could see the love and concern in his eyes, and it made the weight of your silence feel all the more burdensome.

As you slowly pulled away from the hug, you wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your emotions. Joel looked at you with a soft expression, his worry evident but tempered with the resolve to support you no matter what.

The thoughts of your pregnancy, the uncertainty of the future, and the fear of how this might change everything were still swirling in your mind. You felt a pang of guilt as you remembered Tess's words, and you struggled with the decision of when and how to reveal the truth.

Joel seemed to sense the inner conflict you were grappling with. “If you need space, or if you need to talk about it,” he began, his voice steady, “just let me know. I’m here for you, no matter what.” You nodded, forcing a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel. I… I just need a little time.”

He nodded in understanding, and as you both sat down, the silence between you was filled with an unspoken promise of support and love.

You woke up a little later, feeling the soft warmth of Joel’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist. For a moment, you simply lay there, savoring the comfort and the faint sense of security his presence provided. The room was quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of Joel’s breathing.

Gently, you eased yourself out of bed, careful not to disturb him. You tiptoed out of the bedroom, the coolness of the apartment a stark contrast to the warmth you’d left behind. As you walked through the small living space, you noticed that Tess was already up, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.

She looked up as you entered, her gaze softening. “Hey,” she said quietly, setting the cup down. “How’re you feeling?”

You offered her a small, tired smile. “Better, thanks,” you replied, taking a seat across from her. “I just needed some space to think.”

Tess nodded; her expression thoughtful. “Did you think about what I say?”

You took a deep breath, considering Tess's question. “A little,” you admitted, your voice soft. “It’s just been overwhelming, and I’m not sure how to handle everything yet.”

Tess studied you for a moment, her eyes reflecting both concern and a hint of sadness “And?” she reached across the table, placing a comforting hand over yours. “I understand it’s overwhelming,” she said gently. “But you have to face it.”

You glanced down at your hands, gripping the edge of the table as if it might anchor you to the present moment. The room felt too small, the weight of your thoughts pressing heavily on your shoulders. “It can’t be…I’m scared” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

Tess took a deep breath, her expression softening. “Take the test, I’ll go with you” she said, showing support.

“Wha-wha-what? I don’t have any test” you said, voice trembling

Tess gave you a small, understanding smile, her hand still resting over yours. “I know,” she said softly. “But there’s a way to get one. I can ask around… discreetly. I have a contact who might be able to help.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and disbelief coursing through you. “You’d do that? For me?” The idea of someone knowing, of even a whisper of this spreading through the QZ, sent a chill down your spine. But the calm certainty in Tess’s eyes steadied you.

“Of course,” she replied without hesitation. “I’ve got your back, always. We’ve been through worse, haven’t we?”

You nodded slowly, though the tight knot in your stomach seemed to twist even more. “Yeah, I guess,” you muttered, trying to sound convinced, even though nothing had felt quite like this. “But what if… what if it’s true, Tess? What do I do then?”

Tess squeezed your hand gently, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Then we figure it out, step by step,” she said. “First things first, we need to know for sure. Until then, try not to let your mind spiral, okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding again, though your mind was already a storm of thoughts and worries. You could feel the weight of this new reality settling onto your shoulders, heavier than anything you’d felt before. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try.”

Tess stood up, giving your hand one last comforting squeeze before letting go. “I’ll see what I can do tomorrow,” she promised. “Go back to bed and try to rest.”

Your mind raced with possibilities and fears as you made your way back to the small bedroom, trying to steady your breathing, to find some calm in the storm of your thoughts.

When you slipped back into the darkened room, Joel was still lying on his side, one arm stretched across the bed as if reaching for you even in sleep. You carefully lifted the blanket and slid back under it, trying not to wake him. But as soon as you settled in, his arm instinctively curled around your waist, pulling you close. His warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of safety.

Joel's voice came out in a sleepy murmur, rough around the edges. “Where were you?” he mumbled; his breath warm against your neck. You could feel the weight of his arm, heavy and reassuring, holding you as if he sensed your unease.

“Just… talking to Tess,” you whispered back, trying to keep your voice steady.

His grip around you tightened slightly, his thumb tracing small circles against your side. Even in his half-asleep state, there was a protectiveness in the way he held you. “Everything okay?” he asked, still drowsy, but there was a hint of concern creeping into his tone.

You hesitated for a second, your heart beating faster. You didn’t want to lie, but you also couldn’t tell him—not yet, not until you knew for sure. “Yeah,” you finally replied, trying to sound convincing.

Joel made a low, comforting sound, a mix between a hum and a sigh. He nuzzled closer, his lips brushing lightly against your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his voice trailing off as sleep tried to claim him again. “We’ll figure it out… whatever it is.”

You bit your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let his words soothe the fear gnawing at your insides. But all you could do was rest your hand over his, feeling the roughness of his skin beneath your palm, grounding yourself in his presence.

“Yeah,” you whispered back, more to yourself than to him. “We always do.”

Joel’s breathing began to slow again, deepening as he drifted back to sleep. You closed your eyes, pressing yourself closer against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“I love you” you whispered to him, breaking the silence. You were afraid of losing him.

For a moment, there was only the quiet of the room, the soft hum of the distant generator outside, and the gentle rhythm of Joel's breath against your skin. You wondered if he'd even heard you, or if your whispered words had been lost in the space between wakefulness and sleep.

Then, you felt his grip tighten around you, his hand moving to hold you closer, almost as if he was afraid, you might slip away. His lips brushed against your shoulder, a tender, lingering kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. "I love you too," he murmured, his voice a deep, husky whisper in the darkness. There was a raw honesty in his words, an openness that you rarely heard from him, as if he understood the fear hidden beneath your confession.

His lips pressed against your shoulder again, this time firmer, more deliberate. "Ain't nothing gonna change that," he added softly, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb stroked gently over the fabric of your shirt, tracing soothing patterns that spoke of comfort and promises unspoken.

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, feeling a mix of relief and longing. The fear still lingered, but in this moment, held in his arms, it felt a little more manageable. You leaned back into him, feeling the strength in his body, the steady beat of his heart against your back.

Joel held you tighter, as if sensing your need for reassurance. "We'll get through this," he whispered. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together. You and me."

You nodded against him, unable to find your voice, your heart swelling with the weight of everything unsaid. "Together," you repeated softly, your hand squeezing his, grounding yourself in his presence.

For now, that was enough.

Joel woke up slowly, his body protesting against the cold air that had settled in the room overnight. He blinked against the dim light filtering through the cracked blinds, reaching out instinctively to your side of the bed, only to find it empty. His hand moved across the sheets, finding them cool, your warmth long gone.

He sat up, a frown creasing his brow as a flicker of worry ran through him. He scanned the room, half-expecting to see you in the corner, maybe getting dressed or lost in thought, but the room was still, too still. He called your name, softly at first, then a little louder. No answer.

His heart quickened as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing his jeans from the chair and yanking them on. The apartment was quiet, eerily so, with no sign of movement or life. His boots hit the floor with a dull thud as he pulled them on, his gaze darting around the small space.

Where the hell were you?

He moved quickly to the kitchen, eyes scanning the counters, the sink—anywhere you might have left a note, a sign of where you’d gone. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the building settling around him. He glanced toward the front door, noticing Tess's boots missing from their usual spot. A knot of unease tightened in his chest. Neither of you were there.

He ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. You wouldn’t have left without telling him, not without saying something. And Tess—she was always up to something, but she never left you behind. He felt his pulse quicken, a gnawing sense of dread creeping in as he grabbed his jacket from the hook near the door, slipping it on with practiced haste.

Joel pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, his boots echoing against the worn floorboards. He looked around, scanning for any sign of you or Tess. The hallway was empty, but a few doors down, a neighbor—a middle-aged man Joel recognized but didn’t know well—was stepping out, adjusting his coat.

“Hey,” Joel called out, his voice sharper than intended. The man looked up, surprised. “You seen them?” He gestured back to your apartment.

The man shook his head slowly, clearly unsure who Joel was referring to. “Nah, haven’t seen anyone this morning,” he replied. “Everything okay?”

Joel forced a tight smile, though his stomach was churning with worry. “Yeah, fine,” he muttered, turning away. He started down the stairs, moving quickly, almost without thinking. His mind raced, a thousand worst-case scenarios flashing through his thoughts. Where could you be? Why hadn’t you said anything?

He made his way down to the ground floor, heading toward the small communal area near the entrance, where a few people were already gathered, murmuring quietly among themselves. He scanned the room, his eyes searching, hoping to catch a glimpse of you or Tess.

“Joel!” A voice cut through the chatter, and he turned to see one of Tess’s contacts—Danny, a wiry guy with a nervous energy—waving him over. Joel’s heart jumped. Maybe Danny had seen you.

“Where’s Tess?” Joel asked as he approached, not bothering with pleasantries.

Danny’s face tightened slightly, and he glanced around, lowering his voice. “She went out early, looking for something… didn’t say what. Figured you knew.”

Joel clenched his jaw, frustration flaring in his chest. “And her?” he asked, his voice edged with urgency. “You see her?”

Danny shook his head. “No, man. I just saw Tess.”

Joel felt a chill run down his spine. He took a step back, his mind racing with questions. If Tess had gone out and you weren’t with her, then where the hell were you?

He turned, scanning the room one more time, then made a decision. He needed to find you, now. Whatever this was, wherever you were, he wasn’t going to wait around and let worry tear him apart.

You sat in Lydia's small, cluttered living room, nerves thrumming beneath your skin like a live wire. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and old books, a comforting combination that somehow made you feel more at ease, despite the circumstances. Lydia's place was a small haven in the chaos of the QZ, filled with mismatched furniture, faded floral curtains, and a few potted plants she somehow managed to keep alive. The doctor herself, an older woman with graying hair pulled back into a messy bun, moved around the space with a calm, practiced efficiency. Her hands were steady, her expression focused but kind.

Tess stood beside you, her presence a quiet reassurance. She had her arms crossed, her foot tapping lightly against the worn wooden floor as she watched Lydia prepare a small kit on the table. Lydia glanced over at you, her eyes soft with a mixture of concern and affection. “You look pale, sweetheart,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “You’ve been keeping up with your food and water?”

You managed a small nod, though your stomach felt like it was tied in knots. “Yeah, just… a lot on my mind,” you murmured. Your voice sounded small in the stillness of the room.

Lydia nodded knowingly, her gaze flicking to Tess for a moment before returning to you. “I’ve seen that look before,” she said softly. “It's not easy, being in this kind of situation… but you’re not alone, okay?”

You bit your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat again. “Thanks, Lydia… I just… I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what to do if… if it’s true.”

Lydia came over to you, setting a warm hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay to be scared,” she said kindly.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as she handed you a small, well-worn plastic device. A pregnancy test. It felt surreal holding it in your hand, the weight of it much heavier than its actual size.

Lydia’s expression softened. “The bathroom is down the hall,” she instructed gently. “Take your time, and when you're ready, come back out. No rush.”

You glanced at Tess, who gave you a reassuring nod. “Go on,” she urged softly. “I’ll be right here.”

Swallowing hard, you stood up, clutching the test in your hand, and made your way down the narrow hallway to the small, dimly lit bathroom. The old mirror above the sink was cracked, reflecting your nervous expression in fragmented pieces. You took a deep breath, feeling the cool tile under your bare feet, and tried to steady your racing heart.

The minutes stretched out as you stood there, staring at the test in your hands, feeling the weight of this decision. You knew that everything could change in an instant—your life, your relationship with Joel, everything you thought you knew about the world and your place in it.

You finally gathered your courage, took the test, and set it on the sink. You watched it like it might explode, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness. You could hear the muffled voices of Tess and Lydia down the hall, their words indistinct but soothing in their familiarity.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, you saw the result. Your breath caught in your throat, your knees feeling weak. You stared at it, your mind struggling to catch up, to process what you were seeing.

It was positive.

You felt a wave of emotions crash over you—fear, confusion, a strange sense of disbelief. You gripped the edge of the sink, needing something solid to hold on to, to keep yourself from spiraling. Tears welled in your eyes, unbidden, and you blinked them back, swallowing hard.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself before turning back toward the door. You stepped out of the bathroom, your face pale, your hands trembling slightly.

Tess was the first to notice, her eyes widening as she saw your expression. She moved quickly to your side, her hand gripping your arm gently. “Hey… what’s the result?” she asked, though the look on your face already told her everything.

Lydia stepped closer; her eyes filled with empathy. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she murmured. “Just take a breath.”

You looked at them both, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s… it’s positive,” you admitted, your heart pounding. “I’m… I’m pregnant.”

Tess squeezed your arm, a mixture of concern and determination on her face. “Okay,” she said firmly. “We’re going to handle this. We’re gonna figure it out.”

Lydia nodded; her expression warm. “You’re not alone in this,” she reassured you. “We’ll do what we can to make sure you’re safe… and healthy.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the tears spill over despite your best efforts to hold them back. “What… what do I do now?” you asked, your voice shaking. “I don’t want anyone to know this, okay?”

“Joel’s has to know” Tess said.

“No.” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, a flash of panic twisting through your chest. “No,” you repeated, firmer this time. “I can’t… I can’t tell him. Not yet.”

Tess’s eyes narrowed slightly, but her expression remained calm. “Why not?” she asked gently, though there was a hint of insistence in her voice. “He deserves to know. He’s going to find out sooner or later.”

You shook your head, feeling the tears start to flow again. “I just… I’m not ready,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “He’s already dealing with so much, with losing contact with Tommy, and… I don’t want to put this on him. Not when I don’t even know how I feel about it yet.”

Lydia placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her touch steady and grounding. “It’s okay to feel this way,” she said softly. “But Tess is right. Joel will need to know eventually. He’s your partner… in all of this.”

You bit your lip, trying to steady your breath. “I just need some time,” you murmured, feeling a deep ache in your chest. “Please… don’t say anything to him. Not until I figure out how to even say it myself.”

Tess sighed, a mixture of frustration and understanding on her face. “Alright,” she agreed quietly, but you knew she was lying.

She walked towards the door before you saying to Lydia “I’ll pay you later.”

“There is no need, I’d do anything for this one here” she said, squeezing your shoulder.

Tess gave Lydia a small nod, but her expression was tight, her jaw set. You could sense the conflict simmering beneath her calm exterior. You knew Tess well enough to recognize that she wasn’t pleased with your decision. She paused at the door, one hand resting on the frame, before turning back to you.

“Alright,” she said again, this time her voice softer, almost resigned. “We need to get back. Joel’s probably tearing his hair out by now.” There was a hint of a wry smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. You felt a pang of guilt; you could only imagine how worried Joel must be at this point.

Lydia gave you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she said softly. “And if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

You managed a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Lydia… for everything,” you whispered, feeling a rush of emotion swell in your chest.

Tess opened the door and stepped outside, waiting for you to follow. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, before moving to join her. As you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, Tess glanced at you, her expression unreadable.

“You know he’s gonna ask where we were,” she muttered, keeping her voice low. “And you know I won’t lie to him.”

Your heart sank a little. “I know,” you admitted quietly. “Just… don’t tell him yet, okay? I need to be the one to do it, Tess.”

She nodded, but the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease. “You better tell him soon,” she warned her tone more serious now. “Because if you don’t, I will.”

Two days had passed since you were delivered the news, and as you went through your shift, the morning sun cast a pale light over the QZ, and the usual noise of activity buzzed around you. You focused on your tasks, trying to push through the lingering fatigue and nausea. Despite your efforts to stay steady, a wave of nausea hit you suddenly, making your stomach churn violently.

You stumbled to the side, clutching your midsection as you struggled to keep yourself upright. Before you could react, the contents of your stomach erupted, and you doubled over, throwing up onto the ground. The sudden and intense discomfort left you gasping for breath, feeling a mix of embarrassment and distress.

Nearby, a few of your co-workers glanced over, their faces a mixture of concern and discomfort. One of them approached, a frown on his face. “You alright? Maybe you should sit down or get some fresh air.”

You shook your head, trying to regain your composure. “I’m fine,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky. “Just… give me a moment.”

The soldier supervising the shift, who had already been keeping an eye on you, approached with a stern expression. “What’s going on? You can’t be throwing up in the middle of work. If you’re sick, you need to go home.”

You tried to protest, but your weakened state made it hard to argue. “I’m okay,” you said weakly. “I just need a minute.”

Before you could say more, Joel appeared, his face etched with concern as he hurried over to you. He placed a supportive hand on your back. “You need to go home,” he said firmly, his eyes filled with worry. “You’re not doing yourself any good pushing through like this.”

The soldier gave Joel a skeptical look. “She needs to get back to work. We can’t afford to have people slacking off.”

Joel’s expression hardened, and he took a protective step forward. “She’s not slacking off. She’s sick. You wanna have her work herself into the ground? Take her home, and I’ll deal with it.”

The soldier seemed taken aback by Joel’s intensity but eventually relented, grumbling under his breath. “Fine. Take her home, Miller. We don’t need sick people on duty.”

Joel nodded, helping you to your feet and wrapping an arm around you for support. “Let’s get you outta here,” he said gently, guiding you toward the exit.

As you walked out of the QZ, the cool air was a welcome relief, but the anxiety and guilt still gnawed at you. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Joel glanced at you, his eyes softening. “You don’t need to apologize, honey.” With Joel’s reassuring presence beside you, you made your way back to the apartment, each step feeling a bit heavier as you faced the reality of your situation.

When you and Joel arrived back at the apartment, you were both greeted by the quiet, familiar surroundings. Tess was sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes lifting from a worn-out map she’d been studying. She looked up as you entered, her expression shifting from concern to relief.

“Hey, you’re back,” Tess said, standing up quickly. “How are you feeling?”

Joel helped you inside, guiding you to the couch. “She’s not feeling great,” he said, his voice low. “She had another wave of nausea at work.”

Tess crossed the room, taking a seat next to you on the couch. “Alright, let’s get you comfortable,” she said, her tone gentle. She reached for a blanket and draped it over you, her eyes scanning your face with worry.

You nodded weakly, feeling the exhaustion and the strain of the morning catching up with you. “Thanks, Tess,” you murmured, settling into the couch as Joel stood nearby, his hands resting on his hips, clearly trying to mask his concern.

Tess turned to Joel. “You should take a break, too,” she suggested. “I can keep an eye on her for a bit.”

“No.” Joel glanced at you, “I want to know what’s happening, and don’t lie to me” he demanded, especially to you.

You frightened under his stare. You looked over at Tess looking for a way of reassurance.

Tess met Joel’s gaze steadily, her own concern evident. “Joel,” she began softly, “we need to approach this carefully. We don’t want to push her too hard.”

Joel’s eyes softened slightly, but his jaw remained set. “I just want to understand what’s going on. She’s been sick for days, and I need to know why.”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of both their stares. “Joel,” you said quietly, “I’ve been… trying to manage. It’s been hard to admit, but… Tess might be right. I’m not sure how to handle it all.”

Tess reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What we’re dealing with isn’t just a simple illness. It’s important that we address it properly.”

Joel’s expression shifted from frustration to deep concern. “What are you saying?” he asked, his voice softer now, but still laced with worry.

“Joel, I…I” you wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t find the words or the courage to do it.

Joel's gaze was intense, waiting for you to continue. Tess’s hand on your shoulder was a grounding presence, urging you to find the strength to speak.

You took another deep breath, the lump in your throat making it hard to talk. “Joel,” you began again, your voice trembling, “I’ve been feeling… really sick, and it’s more than just the usual stuff. It’s… it’s because…”

Again, your voice got cut.

“Because of what?” he demanded.

“She is pregnant, Joel” Tess answered for you.

Joel’s face went pale as he absorbed Tess’s words. His eyes flickered between you and Tess, trying to reconcile the new information with what he had seen in you recently. The silence in the room grew heavy, punctuated only by the sound of your shallow breaths.

Joel’s hands dropped to his sides, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “Pregnant?” he repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. His voice was a mix of confusion and pain, and he took a step back, needing space to process this revelation.

You nodded, tears threatening to spill again. “I didn’t want to tell you like this,” you said quietly. “I’ve been trying to manage, but it’s been really hard.”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly as he tried to gather his thoughts. He turned away from you, his face contorted with frustration. “Goddammit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair again, the tension in his body palpable. “This… this is just too much.”

You flinched at his outburst, tears spilling freely now. “Joel, please—” you began, but he cut you off, his voice rising.

“Do you have any idea what this means?” Joel’s tone was harsh, though there was a tremor of anguish beneath the anger. “We’re barely surviving as it is, and now… now you’re telling me you’re pregnant?”

Tess stepped in, placing a firm hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Joel, this isn’t helping,” she said sharply. “She needs support right now, not anger.”

Joel shrugged off her hand, his frustration boiling over. “I know, I know,” he snapped. “But it’s a lot to take in! I can’t just ignore it!”

You watched, your heart breaking as you saw Joel’s struggle to come to terms with the news. “Joel,” you said, trying to reach out to him despite your own pain, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to add to the stress, but I didn’t know how else to handle it.”

Joel’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the anger in his gaze faltered, replaced by a deep sadness. “I just… I don’t know how to fix this,”

he said, his voice dropping to a strained whisper. “I thought we had a chance to figure things out. Now everything’s just falling apart.”

Tess moved closer; her voice softer but firm. “Joel, getting angry won’t solve anything. We need to focus on what we can do now. What matters is getting her the help she needs.

“We were supposed to leave to find Tommy and now we won’t be able to.” He said, angry.

“What?” you asked, absorbing the new information.

Joel’s gaze dropped to the floor, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. “We were planning to leave for Tommy’s,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “But with this… we might not be able to. We’re stuck here now, trying to figure out how to manage all this mess.”

You stared at him, the realization hitting you like a cold wave. “Wait, you were planning to leave? To find Tommy?”

Joel nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, Tess and I thought it was the best chance for us. Tommy’s got connections, and he might be able to help us get through this. But now…” His voice trailed off, the anger and sadness mixing in his eyes. “Now, everything’s fucked up.”

“When were you planning to tell me?” You asked, hurt.

Joel’s face fell at your question, and he looked away, struggling to find the right words. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” he said, his voice rough. “Things were just… so complicated. We thought we had more time to figure things out before we had to tell you.”

You felt a pang of hurt at his words. “So, you were just going to leave me in the dark? You were planning to leave without even talking to me about it?”

Joel looked back at you; his eyes filled with regret. “No, that’s not what I meant. Of course you were coming with us.”

“But now I’m a burden.” You uttered a thought Joel perhaps was having.

Joel’s face tightened at your words, the weight of your accusation clearly hitting him hard. “That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, his voice strained. “You’re not a burden, never say that again.”

You stood up, your emotions swirling, a mix of hurt and frustration. “Then why does it feel like everything’s falling apart because of me?” you asked, your voice trembling.

You stood up, your emotions swirling, a mix of hurt and frustration. “Then why does it feel like everything’s falling apart because of me?” you asked, your voice trembling. Tears began to spill down your cheeks, the weight of the situation overwhelming you. “I’m pregnant and I don’t know what to do. I thought you were going to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay, but—fuck this!” You turned abruptly and walked towards the bedroom, trying to escape the chaos of your emotions.

Joel's heart ached as he watched you go, his own emotions roiling. He hesitated for a moment before following you, his steps heavy with regret and worry. He reached the bedroom door just as you were sinking onto the edge of the bed, your shoulders shaking with sobs.

“Hey,” Joel said softly, his voice carrying a note of desperation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this. I was just… scared and confused. I should’ve been there for you, and I wasn’t.”

You didn’t look up, focusing on trying to control your breathing. “Leave me alone.” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, feeling his presence beside you.

“Leave, Joel.” You sobbed.

Joel’s heart sank further as you pushed him away, the pain in your voice cutting him deeply. He hesitated at the bedroom door, torn between his desire to comfort you and the need to respect your space.

“Alright,” Joel said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I’ll give you some time. I’m sorry.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your emotions.

As Joel retreated, Tess quietly entered the room. She found you on the edge of the bed, still shaking with sobs. Without saying a word, she sat down beside you, offering silent support. Tess’s presence was calm and steady, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside.

“Hey,” Tess said gently, placing a comforting hand on your back. “I’m here. Just breathe. We’ll get through this.”

You looked up at her, your eyes red and tearful. Tess didn’t try to force conversation; instead, she simply sat with you, her hand a reassuring presence on your back. Slowly, the comforting silence and Tess’s steady presence began to soothe you. Your breathing gradually steadied, and the tears started to subside.

Tess helped you settle into a more comfortable position on the bed, making sure you were warm and covered. As you drifted off to sleep, the emotional exhaustion finally taking its toll, Tess stayed by your side, her watchful gaze softening with concern.

After a while, Tess glanced toward the door and saw Joel standing there, his expression one of deep regret and sorrow. He looked as though he was trying to come to terms with everything that had happened. Tess gave him a sympathetic nod before turning her attention back to you.

“I know this isn’t the ideal situation,” Tess began, her tone firm yet understanding. “But she needs you now, Joel. More than ever.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his eyes flicking from Tess to where you lay curled up on the bed, still trembling from your tears. “I don’t know if I can do this, Tess,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with the weight of his fears.

Tess placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “You’ve got to try,” she urged. “She’s scared, and she needs you to be there for her. You don’t have to have all the answers, but you do need to stay. You need to lay down next to her and protect her, like you always have.”

Joel looked at her, conflicted, the fight still lingering in his eyes. But Tess didn’t back down, her gaze unwavering. “She’s not asking you to be perfect, Joel. She’s asking you to be there.”

For a moment, Joel hesitated, the weight of the decision hanging heavy in the air. But then, slowly, he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. He walked over to the bed, his movements careful and deliberate as he lay down beside you, his presence cautious but steady.

You stirred slightly, sensing his nearness even in your sleep, and instinctively moved closer to him, seeking the comfort you had always found in his arms. Joel wrapped an arm around you, holding you gently, as if afraid you might break. And as Tess watched, she saw the fear and anger in his eyes slowly give way to something softer.

The room was quiet, save for the sound of your breathing, as you finally found peace in sleep. Joel stayed awake, his thoughts still tangled, but his grip on you never faltered. Tess left the room quietly, leaving the two of you to find whatever solace you could in each other.

Joel lay beside you, staring up at the cracked ceiling of the apartment. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind raced, replaying the argument from earlier and the harsh truths he had tried to push away for so long. The room was quiet now, but his thoughts were anything but.

His gaze shifted to you, lying peacefully next to him, your breathing soft and even. You looked so small, so fragile, and it hit him all over again just how much had changed in the span of a few hours. The life growing inside you was a reality he couldn’t ignore anymore, no matter how much he wanted to. He watched you, his heart heavy with a mix of fear, guilt, and something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time—hope.

The thought of becoming a father again terrified him. After Sarah, after everything he had lost, he didn’t know if he could survive that kind of pain again. But here you were, carrying his child, and it was as if the world was asking him to take that risk all over again. He didn’t know if he had it in him, but as he watched you sleep, so peaceful and trusting, he realized that you were counting on him.

Joel stayed awake through the night, his thoughts swirling with memories of Sarah, the life he had lost, and the uncertain future ahead. He wanted to protect you, to shield you from the harshness of the world outside, but he didn’t know if he was strong enough to protect you both from the dangers that lay ahead. The weight of responsibility felt crushing, yet he knew he couldn’t turn away—not now, not ever.

As the first light of dawn began to seep through the cracks in the curtains, Joel’s exhaustion finally began to catch up with him. His eyes grew heavy, and despite his best efforts, he drifted into a restless sleep, his arm still draped protectively over you.

When he finally woke, the apartment was filled with the pale light of early morning. He blinked groggily, his mind still clouded with sleep, but something felt off. The warmth of your body beside him was gone. He reached out, his hand finding only the empty space where you had been.

Panic flared in his chest as he sat up quickly, his eyes scanning the room. The bed was cold where you had lain, and the room was eerily silent. “Where the hell are you?” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair as he forced himself out of bed.

His heart pounded in his chest as he searched the small apartment, calling your name, but there was no answer. The sense of dread he had felt the night before came rushing back, stronger than ever. He knew you couldn’t have gone far, but the thought of you out there alone, especially in your condition, made his stomach twist with worry.

Joel threw on his jacket, his movements frantic as he prepared to leave and search for you. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you, not when he had just realized how much he needed you. As he headed for the door, he stopped short, his hand gripping the doorknob tightly. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, to think. You were strong, capable—he knew that. But still, the protective urge in him screamed to find you, to bring you back and keep you safe.

With one last glance around the empty apartment, Joel stepped outside, his mind racing as he tried to figure out where you might have gone. He couldn’t lose you—not now, not ever.

Joel knew you had a habit of going to certain places when you needed space—when you needed to clear your head. He made his way through the maze of streets, his mind fixated on finding you. As he walked, his thoughts spiraled. What if you were angry enough to leave the QZ? What if you’d decided you didn’t want to face him again? The guilt from the night before weighed heavily on him, and the fear that he’d pushed you away was overwhelming.

He headed towards a small, secluded spot behind one of the less-used buildings—a place you often went when you needed to be alone. It was out of sight from most people, offering a rare bit of privacy in the crowded QZ. As he turned the corner, his breath caught in his throat. There you were, sitting on an old, crumbling bench, your hands clasped tightly in your lap.

Relief washed over him, so intense it almost brought him to his knees. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in the sight of you. You looked small and lost, your shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world had finally settled on them. But you were safe. You were here. That was all that mattered.

He approached slowly, not wanting to startle you. The crunch of gravel under his boots made you look up, your eyes meeting his. The raw emotion in your gaze—fear, uncertainty, and something that looked like regret—hit him like a punch to the gut.

Joel stopped a few feet away, unsure of what to say, how to bridge the gap that had opened between you. His mouth opened, but no words came out. What could he possibly say to make this better? To fix the hurt he had caused?

“I didn’t mean to leave,” you finally said, your voice small and fragile. “I just…needed to think.”

Joel nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I get it,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. He took a cautious step closer, wanting to reach out, but unsure if you wanted him to. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have let you leave like that.”

You shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “It’s not your fault. I just—” Your voice broke, and you wiped at your eyes, frustration evident in the gesture. “I don’t know how to deal with all of this. It’s too much, Joel. Everything is too much.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

Joel crouched down in front of you, his hand still on your shoulder, his gaze locked onto yours. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now,” he said softly.

“There isn’t a place for raising a baby.” You spoke, looking down at your hands, the thoughts swirling in your mind too overwhelming to express. “Lydia could help me,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “She could help me…terminate it.”

Joel’s reaction was immediate, his voice hard and unyielding. “No.” The word came out sharper than he intended, and he saw you flinch. He softened his tone, but the resolve remained. “We’re not doing that.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mixture of fear and confusion. “But, Joel, what if—” you began, but he cut you off.

“I said no,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “We’re not ending this.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. “But I’m scared, Joel,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “What if we can’t do this? What if it’s too much?”

Joel crossed the room in two long strides and knelt in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face. “I’m scared too,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t lose you.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked into his eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. “I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “You’re not alone in this,” he murmured into your hair. “We’ll do it together. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

You clung to him, the fear and uncertainty still gnawing at you, but for the first time since you’d found out, you felt a small measure of comfort. Joel wasn’t backing down, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

“I love you and I won’t leave you alone, baby” he whispered, kissing your lips.

Joel’s words wrapped around you like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of your fears. You clung to him, your grip tight but gentle, as if you were afraid, he might disappear again. The warmth of his embrace, the sincerity in his voice, and the tenderness of his kiss were all anchors in the storm that had been swirling inside you.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice thick with emotion. You could feel the tears drying on your cheeks, replaced by a sense of tentative hope. The weight of your worries didn’t vanish, but Joel’s presence made them seem a little more manageable.

Joel gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the remaining tears from your cheeks. “We’re gonna get through this,” he said firmly. “I don’t know how, but we will. We’re a team. We’ve faced worse before.”

You nodded, finding strength in his conviction. “Okay,” you murmured, feeling a flicker of warmth in your chest. “I’ll try to believe that.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to yours. “We’ll figure it out together,” he promised. “But right now, my focus is taking care of you and the baby.”

Hours later, the apartment was quiet once again, save for the soft hum of a generator and the occasional creak of the building settling into its nightly stillness. You had managed to distract yourself with small tasks around the apartment, trying to keep your mind occupied and calm. The weight of the conversation with Joel still lingered, but his earlier reassurance had brought a sense of calm you hadn't expected.

You were in the middle of organizing some supplies when you heard the front door open. The sound of footsteps followed, and a few moments later, Joel's voice cut through the quiet. It was a familiar, comforting sound, but this time, it was tinged with an edge of frustration.

“You think this is a joke?” Joel’s voice was sharp, and you could hear the anger in his tone.

You quickly moved toward the front of the apartment, concern etching across your face. When you reached the living area, you saw Joel standing in the doorway, his face set in a hard line. Beside him stood a teenager—a girl who looked no older than sixteen. Her clothes were ragged, and she had a wary, defensive posture.

The girl’s eyes flickered between you and Joel, her expression a mix of fear and defiance. Joel’s anger was palpable, and it was clear that the situation was tense.

“Joel, what’s going on?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though you felt a pang of anxiety at the sight of the girl and the intensity of Joel’s demeanor.

Joel's eyes shifted to you, the anger in them still evident but now mixed with a hint of exhaustion. “She’s got a name,” he said, gesturing toward the girl. “Her name’s Ellie.”

Ellie looked up at you, her eyes wary but hopeful. Joel’s expression softened slightly as he continued, “Turns out she’s supposed to be delivered to the Fireflies.

You glanced at Joel, understanding dawning. “You’re going to take her to them,” you said, looking back at Ellie. “And you’ll have the chance to find Tommy along the way.”

Joel nodded, a hint of resignation in his stance. “Yeah, that’s the deal,” he said.

“But what about—”

Joel cut you off gently. “I know it’s a lot to take in. We need to leave now. There’s an opportunity for us to get out of the QZ and head to a place where things might be better. But it means we have to move fast.”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, glancing between you and Joel. “I don’t want to be a problem,” she said quietly. “If it’s too much—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “It’s not that. I just… I’m not sure what to do. I mean, this is all so sudden.”

Joel stepped closer, his expression earnest. “We don’t have much time. We need to move quickly before things get worse. I know it’s hard, but this is our chance to get out of here. To find some place where we can start over.”

You looked at Joel, the weight of his words sinking in. “And what about the baby?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “How will we—”

“We’ll figure it out,” Joel said firmly. “We have to. There’s no time to waste. This is our chance to make a new life, to give the baby a better chance.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of the situation. “Alright,” you said finally, nodding. “I’ll do it. We’ll go. Just… let’s make sure we’re ready.”

Joel’s face softened with relief, and he gave a nod. “Good. Tess will be back soon. We need to pack up and get out before anyone notices we’re gone.”

As you hurriedly packed, a thought clawed at the back of your mind, growing louder and louder until it burst out of you in a shaky whisper. "But I’ll be a burden," you said, your voice breaking. "I’ll slow you down, Joel. You know it."

Joel stopped what he was doing, turning to face you. "No," he said firmly, the word cutting through the tense air like a knife. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was a fierce intensity in his gaze, something raw and unwavering.

"You’re not a burden," he insisted, his voice low and filled with emotion. "You're the reason I wake up every day. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you, baby. Without you… without you, nothing makes sense anymore."

Your breath hitched, and tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, his words breaking down the walls you had built around your fears. Joel’s hands trembled slightly as he continued, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek.

"So, if this is the chance I have to give you a life you deserve in this shithole," he went on, his voice steady but thick with emotion, "then I’ll take it. I’ll take you with me and give it to you and our baby. I promise you, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re both safe. I won’t lose you. Not now, not ever."

You could feel his sincerity, the depth of his determination to protect you and the life growing inside you. You felt a wave of emotions crashing over you—fear, relief, hope, and love, all swirling together. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch, letting his words sink in.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice trembling, "I… I don’t know if I’m ready for this, for any of this."

His grip on your face tightened just a bit, his gaze never wavering. "Neither do I," he admitted. "But we’ll figure it out. We’ve faced worse, and we’re still standing. We’ll get through this. Together."

You nodded slowly, your heart hammering in your chest. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. "I’m not letting you go," he murmured.

Ellie stood by the door, her arms crossed, an incredulous look on her face. "Are you seriously risking your pregnant girlfriend?" she asked, her voice sharp with disbelief. She looked between the two of you, clearly struggling to understand the situation.

Joel turned his head, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features, but he kept his voice calm. "It's not that simple, kid."

Ellie scoffed. "Seems pretty simple to me," she shot back. "You're dragging her and… whatever's in there—" she gestured vaguely toward your stomach, "—through god knows what to get me to the Fireflies. What if something happens?"

You took a deep breath, stepping forward to meet Ellie’s eyes. "I know what I'm getting into," you said firmly. "I can take care of myself."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and what if you can't? I mean, what if you get sick or something? What if you get hurt?" Her voice softened, just a bit, the worry evident. "It’s not just about you anymore."

Joel’s jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. He turned to Ellie; his tone more measured. "I get it, Ellie," he said. "But leaving her here… leaving her in this place… that’s not an option either."

Ellie threw her hands up. "Great, so it’s a lose-lose situation."

You couldn’t help but let out a small, dry laugh. "Pretty much," you said, trying to inject some lightness into the tension-filled room.

There was a beat of silence, the reality of the situation settling over everyone. Joel reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "We’ll figure it out," he murmured, more to you than anyone else.

Within a short time, Tess arrived, and the group of you prepared to leave the apartment, stepping out into the uncertain world beyond the QZ. The prospect of escaping to a new place, combined with the responsibility of ensuring the safety of both Ellie and your unborn child, loomed over you.

Joel led the way, his eyes scanning the area as you followed, Ellie close behind. The journey ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for a new beginning.

As you stepped out of the QZ and into the unfamiliar landscape beyond, the weight of your situation pressed heavily on you. The world outside was a mix of desolate ruins and overgrown wilderness, a stark contrast to the relative safety of the quarantine zone. With each step, you could feel the gravity of the journey ahead, not just for yourself, but for your unborn child and Ellie, who now looked up to you as a beacon of hope and guidance.

Joel walked beside you, his presence a constant reassurance in the chaos. He kept a vigilant eye on the surroundings, his hand occasionally reaching out to make sure you were close. Tess, ever practical, moved ahead, scouting the path and ensuring that it was as safe as possible.

Ellie followed behind, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. The harsh reality of the world outside the QZ was a stark contrast to the relative safety she’d known, and she looked to you and Joel for guidance and protection.

The landscape seemed to stretch endlessly, with the occasional remnants of civilization scattered among the ruins. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with potential threats and unknown challenges. Yet, with Joel’s hand firmly grasping yours and Tess leading the way, you found a small measure of comfort in the unity of your group.

As you walked, Joel glanced at you occasionally, his gaze softening when he saw the lump forming in your throat.

With each step you took away from the QZ, you felt a mixture of trepidation and hope. The future was uncertain, and the dangers were real, but you were determined to face them head-on, for yourself, for your child, and for the family you were trying to protect.

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strawberrykidneystone · 17 days ago

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unexpected protection

summary: this was not how the mission was supposed to go, but with sevika curling herself around you, it was hard to complain

a/n: i’m such a sap for sevika this is embarrassing

tags: fluff, canon violence, explosions mentioned, kissing

thank you for the request anon!!

ao3 version

you were supposed to keep an eye on isha while sevika and jinx fought with cait and vi. somehow, the little shit slipped down the balcony while you were busy watching the fight while trying not to bite your nails in worry and was now she was holding a gun to vi’s forehead.

you cursed under your breath and quickly vaulted down the wall with your gloved hand trailing down the concrete to slightly slow you down. sevika was definitely going to give you an earful after this. you landed close to the switch where the main explosive that the four of you had set up earlier was waiting to be flipped, and now seemed as good of a time as any.

yet no one moved a muscle, no one wanted this kid to shoot that gun. well of course until cait had shot the gun out of the poor kid’s hand. jinx had already decided to sacrifice herself and made you promise to take care of the kid, you were not going to break that promise.

as you turned your head to set the explosive off, sevika beat you to it and flipped the switch, quickly followed by a deep boom. jinx yelled out something that was quickly lost to the wind, a strong enough gust followed the blast that it was close to knocking you off of your feet. you watched as vi and cait were sent flying back, looking around desperately for your own anchor. the only reason you weren’t sent flying was because of your position behind a huge concrete block in front of you blocking the air from taking you away.

suddenly, you felt an arm around you that pushed you forward against the block. you recognized sevika immediately as she curled herself around you, pushing her body against yours while she clung to the wall with her mechanical arm. her flesh arm was wrapped firmly around you shoulders to the front of your chest. you hands came up and clung to her arm, shaking with the intensity of the wind trying to blow the two of you away. your heart was beating so loud that you could hear it in your ears and you hoped she couldn’t feel it hammering against her arm. you stole a glance at her face, needing to ensure that she was alright. she had her eyes closed tightly and was muttering to herself, it almost looked like she was praying.

shit, she was praying.

you took a deep breath and leaned your forehead against her arm, reassuringly squeezing your hands around her bicep. she dropped her head down to meet the crown of your scalp, you could feel her lips pressing against your hair and her warm breath puffing through her nose. it felt like she was burying her nose in your hair, but you just chalked that up to the strength of the wind jerking the two of you around.

you had never been this physically close to her before, only exchanging playful shoulder checks or nudges at best. now though, this felt oddly personal, very odd for sevika as she usually treated you with indifference most of the time. being this close to her felt so natural, her warmth enveloping you as it effortlessly radiated off her. you couldn’t tell if it was her natural body heat or if her mechanical arm was overheating, but you savored it regardless. sevika just felt… safe. she was always a rock you could count on, even after silco died, she let you hang around the last drop, trusting you enough to let you attempt to fix her broken arm. fine, you’d admit it, you had a huge crush on her. how could you not???

after what felt like hours, the wind finally subsided. you heard sevika’s mechanical arm unlatch from the block with a satisfying crunch. you let go of her arm and she surprisingly stayed crouched down in front of you, keeping her flesh arm planted by your head.

you wiggled around and faced her, as soon as you met her eyes the rest of the world began to melt away. you reached up and cupped her cheeks, eyes darting briefly to her lips before locking eyes with her once again. she pushed herself forward and crashed her lips into yours with such passion and ferocity, it nearly knocked you on your ass. you swung your arms around her neck and met her passion tenfold, pressing your lips so hard into hers that you’re pretty sure you forgot how to breathe. her flesh hand wrapped around your waist and gripped you so hard that her nails were digging into your skin while her mechanical arm lay dormant to the side. in this moment, there were no enforcers, no top side threats, nothing could bring you down from having sevika sliding her lips against yours so perfectly, you’d swear your lips were made solely to kiss her.

you broke the kiss when you started to feel so lightheaded you thought you were going to faint, a dazed smile adoring your face as you looked up at her. she looked frazzled, which was very unlike sevika, and was panting just as hard as you. she rested her forehead against yours and caught her breath while your hands tangled in her hair, still sweaty from the fight.

“i didn’t know how much i wanted to do that until i almost lost you,” she whispered with an unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome tenderness laced in her voice.

you giggled and shook your head, kissing her nose, “better late than never i guess.”

a half-smirk crept onto her lips and she snorted, looking at you with nothing but adoration in her eyes. as she leaned in to kiss you again, a dramatic groan sounded from the other side of the building.

“can you two stop making out? we have to go before the enforcers come back!” jinx yelled out from a higher ledge, isha clinging onto her leg.

“yeah yeah one second brat,” sevika snapped, with no actual bite to her voice. she pressed one last soft kiss to your lips before standing up, offering her flesh hand down to you. taking her hand, you stood up and laced your fingers with hers, and gave a quick nod to jinx.

“let's get out of here.”

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane sevika #arcane jinx #arcane isha #sevika x reader #reader x sevika #arcane season 2 slight spoilers #strawberrykidneystone writes #strawberrykidneystone #sevika x gn reader

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justblades · 2 years ago

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⌕ FLIMSY FEELINGS, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : blade x afab! reader WC : 1.4k

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. dubcon, somno, voyeur! blade, oral (fem receiving), sadistic masochistic themes, mutual masturb#tion, cunnilingus

⟢ A/N : we don't have much info abt his character rn but i tried my best with the available provided info as of the moment !! enjoy <3

raven hair ripples from the bitter cold winds blowing, the glint of crisp solferino hues show a reflection of an unknown person - someone the stellaron hunters just happened to pick up as they tread upon weaving the threads of fate, just how the screen play director foretold.

it was just blade and you alone, encompassed by the archaic, gunmetal gray walls. blade watches your slumbering figure as he wears a solemn face, lips pressed into a thin line, not showing any kind of expression at all except for a stoic mask.

is it really a mask? no one could tell. blade just proceeds to stride towards your body, feeling an aching sensation he needed to tend to. it's a feeling he'd come to despise - but it's still a part of his bodily function. even though he abandoned his old way of living and is now in a pursuit of his path to vengeance, there are trivial things he must fulfill at once.

blade slowly descends to your position, vision still not anchoring away from your dozing shape. humans truly are fragile, he thought to himself— to see someone in their vulnerable state, it feels quite intimate. it was an epiphany blade had for a long time ago he forgot when, but all he knows right now is there's just one thing that must be done.

he feels his pants grow tighter by the minute, the flickering light bulb casts a darker shade of monochrome gray on the crotch part. the navy haired doesn't delay any further and proceeds to get it done. blade unbuckles his belt swiftly, letting the item crash against the concrete flooring; followed suit is an act of self pleasure, he gradually wraps his dominant around his throbbing girth, reveling the wamrth he had to offer to himself in dead silence.

the stellaron hunter may not show it but gratification already courses through his system. at a slow pace, he continues to lean more towards your figure, his cock now at its full glory. its head twitches, itching for a sensation for it to be enveloped in; something warm, something tight and something alive. three qualifications that his mere hands could not satisfy.

perhaps that was your sole purpose for you being brought here in the stellaron hunters' temporary hideout. he rips your clothes with one clean cut from the cracked sword he brandishes, one of the many ways he showcases his astonishing swordsmanship. steadily positioning himself from your slit, a hot, rock hard feeling rubs on your lower lips.

blade's heart begins to pulsate against his rib cage, each beat becoming louder and faster in such an irregular manner. the more he got to feel your slippery cunt, the more eager he only got. and with one powerful thrust, he successfully makes his entrance inside you, his cock lavishing the comfort of your velvet walls clamping around his length.

he huffs a deep breath and only realizes it late as he catches a quick whiff of your scent— for some reason, he was drawn on. the male inches forward your neck, his hands tightly clasped on yours to make sure there would be no attempt of escape. presently atop you while you laid on your stomach, you could feel some faint but added pressure on your limbs plus a somewhat familiar presence from above.

blade was only detached from what you were feeling and only carried on with his own intentions. he rams inside you with no forewarnings, his tip fills you all the way up to the very brim. a breathy, whiny moan erupts in the vicinity that undoubtedly came from you but he heeds no mind to it— continuing to pound into your walls, intruding with such an abrupt pace and not in gradual motions.

in anything that he does, he emanates of destruction. a polar opposite of care, tenderness and love; it shows in his rough, vertiginious thrusts, his firm tight touch, and lastly, in his facial expression. you were not one bit shocked, if anything, you just accepted what is happening as of the present. being used as a cocksleeve for a passing feeling, it rips at your heartstrings but you were powerless before him.

you continued to pretend as if you were still dozing off in spite the mewl that you tried so hard to bite back, stifling more noises threatening to slip out. it would be far more awkward if you're awake as you weren't one bit acquainted with blade. not even shared glances, all the information you have is an overheard conversation from the hunters, only knowing his sole name : blade.

the swordsman eventually begins to drop his guard down, becoming more lax at letting his guttural groans come undone from his mouth. his bandaged hand wanders on your naked, exposed skin, traveling to places where he finds the most appealing. aside from the sound of skin slapping, clothes shifting and his jagged breathing were accompanied by the chime of his dangling scarlet earring.

a sharp pang of pain follows from a loud smack sound. it was his slender hand coming into harsh contact against the plush of your ass, leaving darker imprints from your complexion - it was no doubt, his spanking's seal. you could no longer play pretend as you wince from the pain, your eyes shot open and you turn your head.

your vision was then graced by the indigo haired, he took notice that you were awoken but as usual, he's cold as a gelid ice. he did not care.

when suddenly, he withdraws his cock from your pussy and flips your body around— thus making you meet his face, catching you off guard from your current dazed state. you slowly look up to meet his sharp gaze to the point that you could see your own image from his vivid cerise eyes. your very first locked gaze with blade, and mayhaps the last. his hand clasps on yours once again but only to bring it down to your cunt, he proceeds to uncurl your balled up fist.

he guides your fingers to stroke and pleasure yourself, your own digits prodding through your wet entrance. your breathing quickens, a foreign sensation brewing in the pits of your abdomen; meanwhile blade doesn't do anything but to watch on your expressions. "continue." blade commands ; his raspy, deep voice resounds into your ears.

you were struck with both of shock and nervousness, his tone laced with authority and coldness to it yet again. as embarrassing as it is to do it in front of a man you've never met in your lifetime, you obey his order, continuing to pump your fingers in and out of your coiling walls before his predatory naked eyes.

the navy haired pleasures himself at present, along with you - matching your rhythm. your legs spread open in front of him to feast upon that no man has ever tasted, an unfamiliar sensation wells in his heart. he groans and picks up the pace of him stroking his own erection, a feeling of release immediately dawning upon him.

with blurry vision, for a moment, you could see a hint of sadness and regret behind the vermillion windows of his soul. although the actions he's committing currently are lascivious and of lust, you swear to yourself there was something more than what meets the eye.

as quickly time flashes, strings of muddy white spring out from his cock, the liquids spilling into your exposed tits and your panic stricken face. he catches his breath in the midst of it, heavy panting echoes inside the enclosed vicinity. "i didn't order you to stop."

his words pierces your perturbed mind, he pertains to your masturbation ending just as when he reached his climax. the male swiftly gathers all the cum littering your skin with one hand and one movement, cupping the liquids carefully only to insert all of it into your pussy.

a moan bubbles from your throat, feeling his long fingers curl inside your sticky walls. blade, even though a stoic man most of the time, he's also full of surprises. he flicks his tongue over your clit, the pointy tip rubbing viscules and in circular motions on the specific spot.

your back arches, waves of pleasure crashing upon your lethargic self. blade doesn't halt and carries on to suck your walls out, margins of his sticky lips perfectly fitting with your lower ones. his tongue once again skillfully glides over your sensitive parts— earning him your climax as it spills out from your hole, adorning his sharp, masculine features as if your ejaculation was an accessory.

it felt ecstatic, as if your body drifts into the seventh heaven from blade's cold touches. in spite of the overwhelming gratification pooling in your body, hundreds of questions start to flare up in your mind, mainly about blade's identity. naturally, it rolls from your lips, a question he didn't see coming.

"what are you really?"

among the many blank faces blade shows you this night, he finally unravels a different one upon encountering your question. "are you really that fervent to know?" he rhetorically asks as a sneering smile creeps on his lips.

my masterlist !

#blade x reader #blade honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #blade smut #blade x reader smut #hsr x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut

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lyjen · 3 months ago

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Connection | Eddie Diaz

Summary: After Eddie saves a woman named Lila from falling down a building, she keeps on stopping by the firehouse every time when he’s on shift. When Eddie tells her to stop doing it, she storms out. When (Y/n) leaves the firehouse from visiting her husband, she gets attacked by Lila, making Eddie pay for the things he said.

Request

Taglist: ( @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

9-1-1 Masterlist

______

With his eyes locked onto the giant white building, covering a large amount of blue sky, Eddie hopped out of the fire engine. A woman was dangling on a sign, hanging on the a side of the apartment building of twelve, maybe fourteen levels high.

“Yeah, what's the plan?” Buck’s voice brought Eddie back to reality as he quickly closed the door shut behind him and got a bag with a harness and rope out of the compartment.

“Eddie, Chimney, I want you on the floor below. Kick out that window so we can bring her through there.” His captain was shouting orders as Eddie and Chimney waited for him to finish explaining their task.

“Copy that, cap.” Eddie confirmed their task as he and Chimney made their way inside, getting to the eighth floor.

Chimney and Eddie entered the apartment with the window on the Alpha side of the building.

On calls like this, timing was incredibly important. The woman was already hanging some time, so how much longer can that woman hold her own weight?

So keeping the team, and the captain updated about where you were, what you were doing, was necessary.

“Just entered the unit cap.” Eddie said through the radio. “About to anchor off and remove the window.” He added as he let go of the speech button, while walking towards the Alpha side of the building.

“Copy that” Their captain's voice sounded through the radio again to confirm that he knew what Eddie and Chimney were up to.

“Okay so, you harness up and I’ll pop out the glass.” Chimney said as he pointed between the two of them. “Copy that” Eddie confirmed as he shrugged off the strap of the bag off his shoulder.

Eddie got out a line and quickly scanned the room for the best suitable point to secure his line on. His eyes fall onto a large concrete pillar on the corner of the Alpha to Delta side of the building.

That’ll have to do.

He opens the black bag and fishes out the bright blue line. He quickly secures the line around the concrete pillar and tightens it, while Chimney tries to carefully pop out the window.

“Just finished securing the lines, cap. I’m all harnessed up.” Buck's voice sounded through the radio as Eddie stepped into the harness, making sure he was safe and secured.

“Coming down now.” Buck added.

Eddie placed his helmet onto his head and clicked the two pieces together.

Just as Bobby copied to Buck’s update, Hen’s slightly, yet also calm voice came through the radio. “Cap, we have a problem. We got to move now. That sign is not secure!” she said through the radio, while Eddie secured the rope to the anchor point.

There was something about these kinds of calls, the ones with time pressure, where Eddie could never get used to. He may look calm and all, but on the inside his stomach made a dozen kinds of backflips.

“Alright thirty seconds, Buck’s coming down.” Bobby tries to keep calm through the radio. “Chimney, how is that window?” he asked as soon as he finished that last sentence.

Chimney was holding both glass removal tools on the glass window, ready to move it, as he used one of his hands to speak through the radio again.

“In progress” Chimney said, as he grabbed both tools again and carefully removed the glass from the window frame.

While Eddie saw Chimney carrying the window towards the other side of the room, he put on his last glove and moved towards the window. Ready to guide the woman inside as soon as Buck got the rescue strap around the woman.

Eddie walked towards the now glassless window, as he caught some screaming in combination with Buck's calm voice.

What the hell was going on? Buck was within reach now he guessed, especially after Cap told Hen that he needed thirty seconds, and he already crossed those.

He placed the palm of his hands on the window frame as he took a glance, to get a vision of what was happening a few floors above him. But just as he popped out his head through the window frame and stepped with his feet onto the window sill to get to even height, he could hear the woman screaming in agony.

He could hear a loud scream coming closer, and closer. That’s when he realized.

She was falling.

Eddie immediately opened his arms, as he could see the woman coming closer towards him. Before he knew it, the woman had her arms locked around his neck, as his arms were locked underneath her armpits. For a split second it felt like he was playing god.

His stomach was being crushed by the window frame he was hanging out. He could feel the woman starting to slip away as gravity was doing its job.

“Chimney!” he groaned as he tried to keep himself and the woman from falling down. With one foot he was standing on his tiptoes on the windowsill, the other was trying desperately to find some kind of ground to be placed on.

“Geez!” Chimney’s voice shouted as he realized Eddie was holding the falling woman through the window. He quickly dropped whatever he was holding and ran towards the window to guide and assist Eddie and the woman inside.

Eddie could feel Chimney pulling him back by the back of his harness. But as soon as Eddie felt that he was falling towards the inside of the window, he couldn’t find his balance. His legs gave in on the weight he was carrying and he fell down onto his side.

“Oh my god, oh my god” the woman gasped through her cries, holding onto Eddie like she was the only thing that could save her. How did he pull this off? Chances like this are one in a million, maybe a billion.

The woman finally let go of Eddie, trying to remember what the hell just had happened. Eddie pushes himself up with the palms of his hands, trying to catch his breath. “You saved me!” she gasped as she took another look at Eddie. She fell into his arms again, curling her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her body, nearly crushing him. “Thank you! Thank you!” she panted.

Eddie awkwardly padded her back softly, “Just doing my job, ma’am” he says, trying to suppress the groan in his voice, her arms pushing all of the air out of his lungs.

Her arms loosened around his neck, as she placed her hands onto both his shoulders firmly. “Please, call me Lila” she said with a smile on her face. “Thank you..” she said questioningly, as she waited for Eddie to tell her his name. “Eddie” he added.

“Thank you Eddie” she sighed, pulling him into one last hug.

______

“I swear, she shoved me at first, then pushed me and punched me in the chest when she saw me.” Eddie told Buck as he walked out the kitchen, towards the couch where Chimney and Hen were chilling in between shifts.

”You’re kidding right?” Buck answered as he jumped over the back of the couch, taking place next to Hen as he grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the table.

“I mean I get it, Karen would’ve done the exact same to me. It’s not everyday when your husband gets held hostage in an ambulance.” Hen said as she locked her eyes on Eddie.

Eddie sat down on the armrest of the couch Chimney was chilling on. He could hear Bobby coming up the loft as Buck shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “But everything between the two of you is okay, right?” Buck asks, with a mouth full of popcorn. “Yes, I explained everything to her and now we’re good.” Eddie said, as he felt two eyes burning into his skin.

“Eddie, you have a visitor” Bobby’s voice sounded as he joined the group on the loft. Eddie’s brows furrowed in confusion, who was asking for him? It couldn’t be his wife, right? Normally (Y/n) would ask if she could come over, she would never pop up unannounced.

But when Eddie read Bobby’s face, he knew immediately who it was.

“Speaking of the devil..” Chimney laughed as he threw one piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Oh! Is it (Y/n)? I’ve been dying for that cheese cake she made us last time.” Buck asks Bobby. But he didn’t answer, Bobby’s eyes were locked onto Eddie.

Eddie’s expression morphed into an annoyed one as he thought about the woman who was downstairs. “No. It’s Lila.” Eddie’s voice sounded low as he ended the answer with a sigh.

“You still didn’t tell her to stop coming here?” Hen asks as Eddie placed his hand on his chin, thinking about how he was going to handle this. He shook his head, “I hoped it would blow over.” he admitted.

He hoped this was some kind of phase that would last two or three days. But right now they were on day six. Even someone from B-shift told Eddie that some woman was looking for him, and it turned out to be Lila. Somehow, she found out when he was working. Or maybe he was going insane, and it was pure coincidence.

“Wow, what chapter did I miss? Who’s Lila?” Buck asked as he looked around the room, waiting for someone to answer his question. “Lila, is the woman that Eddie saved through that window.” Chimney added as he kept his eyes on the news.

“Anyways, the shift after that call. She stopped by, thanked me and gave me a box of cupcakes. Last shift she was here too, but I told her to leave because we were ‘busy’.” He said as he quoted the word busy with his fingers. ”I heard she even came over by B-shift, looking for me. But I guess she figured out my schedule.” he added.

He stood up from the armrest, “This is the third time.” Eddie said as he folded his arms over each other. He didn’t want to be rude towards her, but this was getting weird and annoying. Everyone was welcome, walking in if they needed help, but she didn’t need help. Not anymore. He got that she wanted to thank him, but one time would be enough.

“This has to stop. I need to end this” he said determinedly as he gave himself a nod and walked towards the stairs.

As he walks down the steps of the stairs, he spots the woman standing between the fire engine and the fire truck. With a plastic container in her hands, looking around the firehouse, taking in the environment she was in right now.

When she spotted Eddie walking towards her, a wide smile spread across her face as she sent him a small wave.

Eddie didn’t want to be rude, so instead of doing nothing and completely ignoring her, he pressed his lips into a thin line and awkwardly pushed the corners of his mouth up. So he gave a kind but simple sort of smile.

“Hi” she said softly when he was close enough, standing across from her. “Hi” he quietly greeted her back. “I made you some new snacks” she smiled as she held the Tupperware box filled with brownies a little higher for him to see.

After the incident with the marijuana brownies a few years back, they decided to throw everything they’d get from strangers right into the trash bin. And since Lila was still practically a stranger, they’d do the same with her homemade products. You’ll never know what they’d put in it.

Eddie tried his best to be polite, “Oh, that’s sweet of you” he said, as his eyes wandered from the box back to the woman’s face. “Um, can we talk?” he asked, Lila nodded and answered his question with a small “sure”. He motioned with his head to her as a sign to follow him. He held out his arm to guide her into the right direction, which was in front of the fire engine, out of the line of sight for his team to see them. He had nothing to hide towards them, but still, if he wanted to help this woman to get out of this dream she was having, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

With his hand placed partly over his mouth, in some kind of thinking spot, he was figuring out what he wanted to say.

A sigh left his mouth as he dropped his hand and folded his arms over each other. “Lila, what are you doing here?” he asks, already knowing he was going to get some simple answer to his question. Her eyebrows narrowed, “Just stopping by to say hi, and dropping off some snacks” she said with an innocent smile, as she gave him a look like: duh.

“Why?” he instantly reacted, he felt this kind of storm inside of him. He needed this nonsense to stop, but with her acting so innocent, he was starting to lose his patience. He had his lips pressed into a thin line, once more, telling her that he wasn’t particularly happy with her visit.

“I wanted to see you” she said, as slowly her smile disappeared from her face, at the sound of him sounding that serious. She didn’t expect him to be like this, she just wanted a small conversation just like the other two times she came here.

Eddie shook his head as he placed his hands onto his hips now. “Lila..” he sighed as those words left his mouth. “You can’t come here.. I’m at work.” he continued his sentence as he tried to get through to this woman.

“I just wanted to talk with you.” she said, with that same innocent look spread across her face. Maybe his point didn’t get through, or she didn’t want it to come through to her. The number of times she was visiting the 118 was becoming annoying and weird.

Another sigh rolled off Eddie’s lips, he looked at the ceiling, asking the gods why. Why was this woman becoming so obsessed with him? Why did it have to be him catching Lila? Why couldn’t she just leave him alone? Why…

“Look.” Eddie started as he clapped his hands together. He was going to break that dream she was in, and get her back to reality. “This is the typical hero story, I save you, you are so happy that I saved your life and now you think you’re developing feelings for me.” he continued as he pointed at himself and back at Lila.

“But those feelings you’re experiencing, aren’t real Lila.” He added. It sounded harsh, cruel, maybe even vicious. But he needed her to understand what was going on, and being all nice wasn’t going to get her out of that reality she made up for herself.

She was silent as she let those words come down on her.

With her eyes locked on Eddie, he could see her eyes change. “I thought we had a connection..” she spoke as she found her voice again.

Eddie shook his head instantly. “No, there’s not.” he said, as folded his arms over each other again. He just added a harsh refusement to her words. “I was only doing my job, that’s it.” He continued, as he watched her gaze locked on something or someone else that wasn’t him.

It almost looked like she was zoning out, but he needed to keep going. Explaining that this was never, ever going to happen again. Otherwise she would just keep popping up. He moved his head so he was in her vision again, and he knew when her eyes moved back to him. “This whole, stopping by the station to see me, needs to stop. There’s no connection between us, and there never will be Lila.” he explained.

With her lips pressed into a thin line, as she was thinking of a response, she nodded. “Well, that was straight to the point.” she said. Her voice sounded emotional, as if Eddie touched the right snare.

She shook her head as her tongue was placed on the upper part of her teeth. “Here” she said bluntly, as she shoved the Tupperware box filled with the brownies into his hands, harshly.

She started walking towards the garage doors of the station, but just as she passed Eddie she mumbled silently “You might regret this”. Words Eddie couldn’t catch, he just stood there, with the box in his hands, as he turned on his heels to watch her walk away, out of the firehouse.

She was going to make sure he was going to regret this.

______

“Delivery for firefighter Buckley!” (Y/n) called through the firehouse as she walked through the garage doors of the 118.

Eddie told her that Buck had been begging for that cheesecake she made for the team the last time she came over. And it had been a while since she visited the firehouse and the team. Of course, she would see them at parties Bobby and Athena would throw at their house, or special occasions, but that was it.

She was a teacher, and whenever she had time over she loved to bake. It was kind of a hobby that’s gotten a little out of hand.

The last time (Y/n) came over at the firehouse had been, maybe like a month or two. She didn’t want to bother her husband when he was at work. She thought it may give the impression towards the other firefighters that she couldn’t be alone, and besides, Eddie would text her from time to time when he was on shift, or call whenever he could.

But since Christopher was now at a friend's place, having a sleepover, (Y/n) figured this was the best time to make a cheesecake and deliver it personally to the firehouse.

Her eyes found her husband who was placing items into the compartments of the firetruck. As Buck was cleaning the outside of the fire truck with a rag.

Eddie’s head shot up as the sound of his wife’s voice infiltrated his ears. His eyes started to sparkle as soon as he saw his wife walking in between the engine and the truck, with a plastic container in her hands.

“Mi amor, what are you doing here?” he asked as she stopped a few feet from the two firefighters. “Well, I had some time over so I thought, why not make a cheesecake and deliver it personally?” she said as a smile spread across her face.

“Ah yes! You’re the best!” Buck said as he got rid of the rag filled with dirty stains, which he placed on one of the compartment boxes. “That’s sweet of you” Eddie smiled as he walked over to his wife and he took place next to her, placing his arm over her shoulder, and pressed his lips onto hers.

Eddie rubbed his thumb lightly over her upper arm as he placed her chin between his index finger and thumb with his other hand.

Someone clears their throat. “Shall I take the box from you?” Buck’s voice asked as (Y/n) felt like she was getting lost, lingering into her husband’s eyes. Just like a snap of two fingers she came back to reality as her eyes wandered towards Eddie’s best friend. “Sure” she said, and Buck took the plastic box from her, and walked away to give the two of them some privacy.

“Estás preciosa” Eddie whispered into her ear, meaning: you look gorgeous. It was one of the little things of the Spanish words or sentences she knew, because of Eddie. His warm breath was tickling her skin, giving her goosebumps as her stomach filled itself with butterflies. The way those Spanish words rolled so easily from his lips, almost made her weak at the knees right on the spot.

He retrieved his arm and placed both his hands onto her waist as he took place in front of her. With a small smile projected on her face, she locked her arms around his neck. It almost looked like they were about to shamble on a dance floor.

“I needed to see you” Eddie mumbled as he looked into her eyes. A small laugh came from her mouth as she let one hand on his neck and with the other one she went through his hair on the back of his head. “Long shift?” she asked softly as she almost felt herself drowning into his deep brown eyes.

“Too long. It feels like this shift isn’t coming to an end” he said, as he pushed a lost strand of hair behind her ear. “But I’m happy you stopped by.” he continued as he planted a small kiss onto her forehead. Something he always did, the forehead kiss.

Eddie slid his hands off her waist as he took her hand. “You want to say hi to the others? Maybe get a slice of your cake?” He asked as he motioned his head towards the loft.

A small smile appeared on her face. “I was just stopping by to drop it off, I really have to get to my doctor's appointment. Which is in…” she stopped as she took a look at her smartwatch, “thirty minutes.” She finished her sentence.

He gently squeezed her hand, “Are you sure?” He double checked with her, looking at her with almost puppy eyes. She nodded, “I don’t think my doctor would be amused if I canceled my appointment because of a cheesecake.” she laughed.

She knew Eddie was just trying to keep her longer to his side. He was only on hour number seven of his twenty four hour shift, so he had a lot more hours to go.

“Call me when you’re done?” He asked her, on which she nodded. “Yes, I will.” she said softly, barely audible.

He smiled as he pulled her into his chest again, pulling her into a hug. With one of his arms wrapped around her neck, he placed a kiss on the back of her head. “And remember-“ he murmured against her hair.

She pulled her head away from his lips, breaking their connection, as she looked into his eyes. “Yes.. yes, if you don’t pick up, you’re on a call. I know, I’m not ten Eds.” She said, placing both her hands onto his chest, trying to create some distance between them.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked, with a smirk and his eyebrows furrowed. She gasped, “Puto” she said as a laugh escaped from her mouth and she pushed him in his chest, breaking free from his hold.

Eddie laughs as he places his hands onto his chest pretending like he was hurt on the spot where his heart was. “Oh te amo," he grinned as he watched his wife stepping backwards, wanting to make her way out of the firehouse.

But just as she took one or two steps back, she quickly stepped back towards her husband, and planted a quick kiss onto her husband’s lips. Her hand was placed on his cheek, “Love you” she said, as she now for real turns around and walks towards the exit.

She lets out a sigh as she walks between those two giant trucks again, she needed to get the last groceries to make dinner. (Y/n) walked through the bright red station doors as she looked both ways to see if it was safe for her to cross the road.

(Y/n) quickly ran towards the other side of the street where her car was parked. But as she unlocked the car and grabbed the door lever, she noticed something was off.

Her eyebrows narrowed as she became a kind of FBI agent on the spot. She walked a little circle around her car, and noticed all four tires were flat like a pancake on the ground.

When (Y/n) crouched down on the sidewalk, she took a look at her tires. She placed her hand onto the rubber inspecting what made her tires flat. “You’ve got to be kidding me..” she mumbled as she could see and feel the large split in the rubber of her wheel.

It looked like someone had cut through the tire on purpose. This couldn’t just happen because she drove through glass or something. The split was on the side of the tire, the part that never even touched the asphalt.

“Fuck..” she whispered to her self as she grabbed her phone from her purse. She wasn’t going to ask her husband to help, even though he was just across the street. He was working and she didn’t want him to focus on anything but his work, which was already tough enough.

Still crouched down she scrolled through her phone, searching for the right contact. “Can I help?” a female voice suddenly asked. (Y/n)’s eyes wandered towards the female voice, the woman was standing just on the side of the sun, making her look like a silhouette.

The woman was wearing a beige cap, she had her dark coloured hair in a ponytail and she was wearing a set of sports clothes.

“Only if you have four spare tires..” she sighed and squinted her eyes closed to try and see through the bright light of the sun.

“You got a flat tire?” The woman asked immediately as soon as she had eye contact with (Y/n). She nodded, “Someone slashed them.” She concluded as she took one last glance at the tires and let her hand slide over the rubber.

“Looks like I pissed someone off really bad, unintendedly.” she sighed as she stood back up, and placed her free hand onto her hip. She was trying to figure out some kind of plan inside her head.

(Y/n) started scrolling through her phone as she tried to find the number of the garage she used to bring her car to. “No doubt about that” the woman mumbled, as she was just observing (Y/n).

“Excuse me?” Her eyes furrowed at the mumble of the woman she heard. She didn’t hear what she said, but there was something that didn’t add up. “I was just saying my cousin is a mechanic, if he knows how to fix this I can too.” She lied quickly.

“Mmm.. I’m sorry, who did you say you were? I didn’t quite catch your name.” (Y/n) asked, as she scanned the woman with her eyes. Maybe with a little bit of a judgemental expression over her face.

“Oh, I’m Luna” she said with a smile that almost seemed too happy. Maybe she was too enthusiastic, maybe that was her character. (Y/n) didn’t know.

“I’m going to take a look in my trunk. I think I still have a car jack and a wheel brace!” Luna said, as (Y/n) tapped on the phone number of her own mechanic from the garage.

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that, I’m about to call my garage.” (Y/n) said as her eyes wandered back to the slashed tires. Crouching down, she inspected the wheels once more. Who would do this to her? Who did she piss off?

With the phone ringing against her ear for the third time, her hopes were starting to get lower by the second. Why weren’t they answering? Should she just go back into the firehouse? Asking her husband for help?

“The number you’ve tried to call is not reach-” a sigh left her mouth as she clicked on the red button displayed on her phone. Just as she wanted to stand up again, a cold, hard object connected harshly with her eyebrow.

A small yelp fell off her lips as she lost her balance and fell onto her bum on the asphalt. The phone she was holding fell out of her hand. Her hand instantly reached out for the painful spot just above her eye.

She touched the painful spot around her eyebrow carefully with a finger tip, but as she looked at the finger she realized blood was coming off the wound. The wound stung, and was throbbing, which made her hiss at the feeling.

It felt like her eye was almost trying to come out of the socket. She tried to regain her vision back as she looked into the sun, where Luna was standing. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you.” she said.

What the hell did she mean? (Y/n) didn’t even know the woman? What could she possibly have that wasn’t hers but Luna’s? She should’ve listened to her gut feeling and just walked right back into that firehouse.

“What?” (Y/n) gasped as Luna crouched down grabbing a handful of (Y/n)’s shirt and pulling her roughly towards her. Lifting her upper body from the asphalt. Adrenaline was spreading itself throughout her body as she kept a cold face expression projected on her face.

“That little romance you’ve got. He’s mine.” she hissed dangerously close to her face. She could smell the woman’s breath, which made her squeeze her eyes closed out of fear.

Eddie? How did she know about him? Hell, how did she know about them? Even if she had never seen her before? There was this fire roaring inside of her as soon as (Y/n) realized who she was talking about.

(Y/n) had to get out of here.

She wanted to call out for her husband so badly, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t find her voice and the volume to yell.

She didn’t think this time and yanked her leg up, causing Luna to lose her balance and fall on top of her. Luna let go of (Y/n)’s body to try and catch her own body, but before she could react, (Y/n) already made her next move. She grabbed Luna by the shoulders as she pushed her weight onto her, making them switch places.

But before (Y/n) could hit Luna in the face, she got pushed off of her by Luna’s foot. She got kicked into her shoulder, making her tumble backwards.

She didn’t have a second to be hurt, she needed to get up and fight. Slow but steady (Y/n) got onto her feet again, as did Luna.

Luna’s eyes were looking like she was ready to drink (Y/n)’s blood. She was pissed. But had that terrifying smile on her face, the one you’d see in horror movies. She fished out a small black folded pocket knife as she yanked it open, popping out the knife part.

She didn’t have anything to protect herself. And besides she had never fought before, she didn’t know her own powers, her weaknesses. But everything to survive, right?

A sigh fell from her mouth as she placed both fists on both sides of her face. She just needed to get across the street. She could do that.

Luna gets closer towards (Y/n) as she quickly points the knife multiple times towards (Y/n), which she manages to avoid. Just as Luna walks towards (Y/n) again, making a slashing move towards (Y/n), she turns on her heel and kicks Luna just underneath her armpit, hitting one of her ribs she assumed.

Luna’s hand immediately reached out for her side, bent slightly forward. She gathers herself back together, “Oh you’re going down” she hissed.

Once more, (Y/n) got into the fighting position. Just when Luna lashed out with the hand including the knife, (Y/n) kicked high enough to hit her chest.

Luna fell down on one knee with both her hands resting next to the knee, trying to breathe.

This was her moment. She had to run, otherwise she’d end up the one who lost. She didn’t think twice as she ran past her. But just as she passed Luna, the pocket knife found her skin.

She pushed the knife into her stomach and pulled it out quickly, almost unnoticeable. But the stinging, sharp pain and the red stain through her white shirt was a dead ass give away.

(Y/n) couldn’t stop now. She whimpered and gasped as she just blindly crossed the street, hoping no one would run her over. She pushed her hands against the stab wound as she saw those oh so familiar red station doors came closer and closer into frame.

She stepped over the threshold as she walked between the fire engine and the fire truck. Trying to keep her legs from buckling, she held the engine as some kind of guide.

“Eddie!” She called out for her husband. Her voice sounded like she was being killed, it sounded terrifying, like a scream straight out of a horror movie.

As soon as Eddie heard his wife calling out his name in a way he’d never heard before, he felt something was wrong. She never screamed that way for her husband.

Eddie pushed open the door of the locker room as he stormed down the sound of (Y/n)’s voice. “(Y/n)?” he called out, hoping she’d answer him.

But as his eyes fell onto the space between the truck and the engine, his heart dropped down to the floor.

His wife was standing there with an arm locked around her shoulders and the blade of the knife pressed down on her throat.

“What the hell?” he mumbled as he stopped in his tracks, changing his direction towards the two women.

He scanned the situation with his eyes, but as he took a step forward, the woman yelled “Stay back!” As she pointed the knife out towards Eddie and after a few counts back on his wife’s throat.

Lila. It was Lila who was holding that knife to her throat.

There was an ugly wound just above (Y/n)’s eye, and a red blood stain was soaking into her shirt.

“Eddie.” Bobby warned him as Eddie put his hands up slightly, nonverbal telling her that he wasn’t armed, and didn’t mean any harm.

Eddie could see movement on the engine, Buck had moved from the compartments to the top of the fire engine to clean, since there were some ashes spread on top of it. He made quick eye contact with Buck, somehow with one look, his best friend knew what to do. It just took him one second of eye contact.

“Eddie, help” she cried softly, it sounded like she couldn’t breathe. (Y/n) had her hands slightly raised up in the air, and her head was pushed back due to the knife pressing into her skin as tears poured down her face.

“Shut up!” She hissed as he pushed the knife in her skin a little more, so to the pressure a red line would appear.

“Lila.. what is going on?” Eddie asked as he tried to start a conversation with the woman.

Lila? So her name wasn’t Luna, her gut feeling was right. How the hell did Eddie know this woman? Was he the reason she became a target?

“Lila, you need to let her go.” He said as he took a small step forward, hoping he’d get closer to his wife. Lila pressed her lips into a thin line as she shook her head. “No.” She said determined.

It stung. The wound that was made because of the knife she was stabbed with. It stung, it was like the wound was giving her micro shocks. With every breath she took, her breathing became more trembling.

Meanwhile Buck silently climbed off the truck, trying so hard to keep his boots silent and not squeaking in the ground of the firehouse.

He squeezed his eyes closed as he touched the lever of the compartment box where the medic bag was and tried to softly pull it open.

“She didn’t do anything, Lila.” He goes on, trying to get her free. Eddie could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins. How was he going to get her as she was being held and threatened.

“You’re wrong!” Lila yelled back at Eddie, fire was burning in her eyes and her voice was filled with aggression. “She took something that isn’t hers” she added as she came dangerously close to (Y/n)’s face.

(Y/n) whimpered as she tried to turn away her face from Lila’s. “You’re upset.. I get it-“ Eddie spoke up as he took some more steps forward, as she was focussed completely on (Y/n).

Buck had opened the medic bag successfully, without making a sound, as he took out a needle, filled with Versed. A medication they used to sedate people who were a danger for themselves and for others.

“Shut the fuck up!” Lila snapped at Eddie as he tried to get inside of her head. “You don’t know what it’s like!” She continued as she grabbed a handful of (Y/n)’s hair, making her stand awkwardly with her back bended.

A yelp fell off (Y/n)’s mouth as she hissed at the pain that was spreading on her head. Eddie could feel the scream of his wife going through bone and marrow.

“When you feel a connection with someone and they come and take it away from you” she hissed as she kept her eyes on (Y/n).

“Lila, please. This isn’t you.” Eddie said. He needed to touch that one sensitive spot. “Listen.. sometimes you’ll feel something for someone..“ Eddie continued as he could see movement in the corner of his eye again.

Buck was crawling underneath the fire engine, with the prepped needle in his hand. When he finally reached the end of the engine, he waited for Eddie’s sign.

”And the feeling might not be mutual.. but there’s someone out there who feels the same way.” Eddie promised.

When the entire expression on Lila’s face went from thunder to a little more calmer, and she was clearly thinking about the words Eddie just told her.

Eddie nodded in the direction of Buck as Lila was unfocused again. Buck yanked himself a little further from underneath the truck and stabbed the needle into her ankle. Pushing the meds through her veins, she was startled by the sudden pain in her ankle, brought by Buck.

For safety Buck quickly pushed himself back underneath the truck as he got out underneath it on the other side.

“What did you do!” Lila screamed as she pushed (Y/n) onto the ground out of reflex. (Y/n) tries to break her fall with her hands, when her body was met with the floor.

“Just something that will help you calm down” Buck said as he walked around the truck. Lila’s eyes began to roll as she slowly was losing her balance and consciousness. She dropped her knife to the ground, as quickly the rest of the team ran towards Lila, catching her before she could hit the ground.

Eddie made his way towards (Y/n), sliding both his knees on the ground, he placed his hand on her back to silently tell her he was there. “I'm here mi amor” he said as he quickly scanned the situation.

He could hear her breathing heavily, with her hand she searched for his arm, when she found his forearm she placed her hand onto his skin. Small sobs falling from her mouth as she realized what was happening finally came to an end.

She tried to crawl her way into Eddie’s lap, placing her head onto his thighs. Eddie couldn’t do anything else than soothing her, telling her she was okay, that he was there for her, and rubbing his hand over her back and the other one over her arm.

“Can you stand up? I need to check you out” he asked as her breathing calmed down. “Can you do that for me?” he added as he didn’t receive an answer to his first question.

She slowly disconnected her head from his lap as she nodded just as slow. Eddie grabbed with both his hands, both her forearms to support her as she stood up. She hissed at the sharp pain in her stomach as she was on her feet again.

“Let’s sit you down okay?” he said as he helped her walk slow but steady towards one of the benches. The ambulance was out, since Hen and Chimney needed to drop Lila off at the hospital, where she’d be under supervision by the LAPD. Which meant Eddie had to use the medic bag from the ladder truck and maybe some first aid boxes from the firehouse.

He gently helped her sit down. Just as she was seated, he ran towards the truck and came back with the medic bag. He placed the medic bag onto the floor, with one knee connected to the floor and one leg in ninety degrees, he took place between her legs.

Eddie got some gloves from the bag and put them on. “Okay, let me see this” he said softly as he pulled the fabric that was clinging to the wound off, making (Y/n) groan at the pain. She took the fabric from Eddie, holding the t-shirt high enough so he could do his work.

“Eddie.” she groaned through the shots of pain, making him look up at her face, but she was looking at the ceiling, trying to keep strong. She was saying his name only because of the pain.

He grabbed an alcohol wipe from the bag as he started to clean the wound. Making her body shocked at the connection between the alcohol and her wound. With her free hand she grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, pinning her nails into his skin as he cleaned her wound. “Sorry” he said as he looked up with his big brown eyes.

“So, you know her?” she asked as she got used to the pain. Eddie placed the wipe next to her on the red bench. “Yeah, unfortunately I do.” he said as he got another wipe, and tried to clean the wound on her forehead. Gently he dabbed the wipe on the wound. “Lila, she’s the one I saved from falling off that billboard. With some dumb luck.” he continued as he got the wound on her forehead all cleaned too.

“And?” She knew there was more to the story. His eyes fluttered up from the wound he was focussed on. “No sign of internal bleeding, but you’ll still need to make a stop at the ER to get some stitches.” he concluded as he grabbed a piece of gauze from the bag.

(Y/n) looked at him with a face expression that said: really? He knew she was asking about Lila. When he heard her becoming quiet, his eyes fluttered up to her face again. He sighs as he places the piece of gauze on her skin, “She came here a few times when I was on shift. Last shift I told her to back off..” he sighed as he took four pieces of tape and pasted them on the sides of the gauze, to keep it in its place.

“I guess that explains all of this..” she said as Eddie cluttered through the bag, searching for a band aid. When he opened the packaging around the bandaid he held it between his fingers. With his elbows he leaned down on (Y/n)’s knees, “I’m sorry I let this come so far.. I should’ve told you” he said with his head down.

“Eddie..” she sighed as she let a hand go through his hair, making him look up again so their eyes met. “You did your job, it isn't your fault she turned out to be a psycho” she added. She wasn’t accepting an excuse from her husband, he didn’t do anything wrong.

“But she found you because of me.” he answered, looking like a little boy apologizing to his mother. She tried to smile through all the emotions she felt, and let her hand wander back to his cheek. “Hey.. don’t be so hard on yourself..” she said as she rubbed her thumb against his skin.

Eddie laid his hand onto the wrist of the hand she used to cup his cheek with. “I’m just.. disappointed in myself, for not telling you sooner.” he admitted, and placed a kiss into the palm of her hand.

“It’s okay..” she whispered, looking a few moments into her husband's eyes. Eddie let go of her hand as he pasted the bandaid onto the wound on her forehead, and placed a small kiss on it.

“Now.. get your el culo to the ER” he said, as he patted her thigh with his right hand. “Yeah, about that..” she awkwardly smiled, as Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed at the sudden change of her tone.

“You might want to call a tow truck.”

#911 #911 fox #911 abc #911 imagine #eddiediaz #eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz x y/n #eddie diaz x you #edmundo eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #eddie diaz imagine #imagine

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holidayinhell · 15 days ago

Text

CWs: carewhumper, dubcon touch

“Sorry ‘bout earlier.”

Whumper waved an apple in front of Whumpee’s face, shiny, bright red and perfect. But Whumpee sat in place catatonically, staring straight forward at the wall behind Whumper.

“Hey. Look at me bud.”

Whumpee paid him no mind.

The tall man tried to swallow his annoyance. He knew it was important for Whumpee to feel safe and relaxed right now, but it wasn’t in his nature to be so… understanding. He was the impatient type, and the silent act was his least favorite form of passive aggression.

“Hellooooooo.”

Whumpee shot a poisonous look up to Whumper, grimacing.

Whumper raked his nails across Whumpee’s neck, dragging them into the delicate flesh. It wasn't enough to draw blood, but enough to force a sharp gasp as Whumpee recoiled, scrambling backward.

Fuck! Goddamn it!!!! He lost his fucking temper again. He didn't mean to. Why does this keep happening?!

“Sorry. Oh, fuck. I shouldn’t-- shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you really act like you’re fucking sorry.” Whumpee spat sarcastically. His good arm clutched the fresh scratches below his ear. It hurt, but the pain was nowhere in the same league as his violently pulsating arm.

A tear rolled down Whumpee’s nose, landing with a sting on his broken wrist. He glanced down at the black-and-blue marks. Perfect handprints were seared into the skin there, an echo of Whumper’s unforgiving grip. He'd never forget the sickening crack when Whumper snapped it—sharp and hollow, like stepping on a brittle branch in the woods.

“Well, I uh, couldn’t find any gauze at the Penny Mart. But I got this bandana I can use to wrap around it though. I’ll make a sling thinggy or whatever.” Whumper hesitated for a moment before pulling a crumpled bandana from his jacket pocket.

“Aaannnnd… this is the best part.” He presented the captive with the red apple again. “I got this for you.”

“Woah.”

“Right? Isn’t it crazy shiny?”

“Yeah.” Whumpee ran his fingers over the apple’s immaculate, shining flesh. “It really is.”

He hated how fascinated he was with a simple piece of fruit. Then again, how long had it been since Whumpee had eaten something that was actually grown from the earth?

Hanging from its stem pinched between Whumper’s fingers, it rotated in the air slightly, and it was so red it practically glowed, shining like a Christmas ornament. For a moment, both men were strangely enamored with the perfection of the apple.

Just as Whumpee outstretched his hand to accept the small gift, the fruit fell to the floor, bouncing against the concrete with a dull thud.

“Goddamn it Whumpee.” Whumper muttered, voice low and frustrated. “I was tryna do somethin’ nice.”

“It’s okay.” Whumpee said numbly, retrieving the bisected chunks from the ground. The juices from inside the apple glistened under the light.

“Huh. Almost expected it to be red on the inside, too.” Whumper anchored his head on Whumpee’s boney shoulder. He was pleased when Whumpee didn’t pull away, allowing him to rest his ear against his collarbone.

“So," Whumper said coolly, "do you still want it?”

“...yeah…”

“Mm, yeah, I’d eat it too.” Whumper growled into Whumpee’s ear. “Even smashed to pieces and ripped inside out.”

Whumpee shifted on his feet, uncomfortably shrugging Whumper’s face off his shoulder. The man took a step back, eyes flickering over to Whumpee, his intense gaze tracing his body up and down, savoring the sight.

“Don’t do that.” Whumpee protectively shielded his broken wrist.

“Don’t do what?” Whumper laughed with a crooked smile, his voice teasing. “I was just sayin'. The inside of the apple is just as pretty as the outside. Maybe even more pretty. And ya know...”

Whumpee didn’t know what to do when Whumper stepped into him, putting his mouth over the red scratch marks from earlier.

“I bet you’re like that too.” Whumper purred as he lapped at the skin.

His tongue swirled over the scratches and glided up Whumpee’s neck until he met the fleshy lobe of his ear.

“It’ll be a nice day when I can finally rip you apart too. But I'll take good care of you 'til then.”

((more whump drabbles))

#whumpblr #whump writing #whump drabble #whump prompts #whump #carewhump #carewhumper #whump snippet #intimate whumper

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pparacxosm · 27 days ago

Text

something borrowed

(dearly beloved part 2: electric boogaloo ! ; tashi duncan x fem!childhood best friend!reader x patrick zweig ((x art donaldson?? a little?)); nonlinear narrative; playing fast and loose with tenses; where do i start; patrick and reader are their own trigger warning; tw pregnancy and childbirth; major major tw for talk of abortion; tw depression and antidepressant talk; cw breeding kink centric smut; more artashi wedding scenes; baby lily !! ; art donaldson #dadding out; grammy donaldson mentioned ! ; tw vomit again i’m so sorry lol; cw more menstrual talk; tw adultery but i mean come on; baby names; lasagna; we all have annie’s reblog to thank ((blame)) for this)

‘ JESUS: Judas—

JUDAS: You forgave Peter and bullshit Thomas—you knocked Paul of Tarsus off a horse—you raised Lazarus from the fuckin’ dead—but me? Me? Your “heart”? . . . What about me??!! What about me, Jesus?! Huh?! You just, you just—I made a mistake! And if that was wrong, then you should have told me! And if a broken heart wasn't sufficient reason to hang, THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME THAT, TOO!

JESUS: Don't you think . . . that if I knew that it would have changed your mind . . . that I would have?

Pause. ’

Stephen Adly Guirgis, ‘The Last Days of Judas Iscariot’

“Is it one of those ugly ones?”

You’re not special; you, too, hate hospitals. Not the least because your parents ralphed up all that cash for med school and you tanked like a castiron anchor. But there’s so much else to feel guilty for. You feel guilty for being alive while people are dying. You feel guilty for wanting to die while people are being born. You feel guilty, and nauseated, by this sickly visceral fume of birth and babyflesh, and the fact that you’re so upset.

You’d marked it on your calendar, is the thing.

March seventh, Doomsday, the purge, the end times.

Tashi Duncan’s Caesarean section.

Timely and clinical, fittingly so. You’d bought a little beanie for the occasion. The beanie is soft and grey and pink. It has a cartoon flower embroidered on the side of it.

But then this is the spawn of Art and Tashi Donaldson. The baby is inherently desperate, and eager, in that order.

It’s February twentyeighth.

It’s probably for the best, you think, while you and Art are on either side of the hospital bed, and he’s grasping Tashi’s hand more tightly than she is holding his, even though she is the one whose innards are being shat out. You don’t believe she could take another scar.

You grimace as she crowns. Art is sobbing and sniffing. He looks at Tashi like he’s getting to watch God populate the world with greenery. It makes your mouth tug sharply to one side, and you close your eyes, briefly, escaping the bright white light.

You watch the papery sheets go redder and redder with every gush from the cavity of her torso.

The baby is not rosy pink so much as she is carmine. Before this, as an idea, she’s existed mostly in black and white. Aminocentesis results on a MacBook screen. The sonogram on their coffee table. The concrete wall of your abject jealousy. The living colour of her, it shocks you more than her glass-shattering screech.

Art holds the baby first, of course, since Tashi is somewhat incapacitated. You soothingly caress her damp hairline.

“What was that like?” you whisper, wincing down at her.

Tashi sheds a few tears and manages a smile that’s part relief and all agony. “Remember…” she croaks, “Remember when Tre fuckin’… like, roundhouse kicked you up the crotch?”

You blink, quirking your brows. Then you snort in surprise, grinning. “Oh my God, yeah,” you giggle. “When Yas and Matteo got that trampoline.”

Tashi nods weakly, her desiccated mouth twitching at the memory, her eyes shivering gently closed.

The baby is tiny against Art’s body, cradled so carefully in his arms. He’s counting all her toes and fingers.

“Hey there,” he murmurs to her, like they’re the only two people on this earth Tashi made. Then he sinks down onto the stool by Tashi’s head, and holds this tiny, beautiful thing out toward her. “Say hi to momma,” he says, his voice soft as gauze.

Tashi reaches out. Her hands are trembling but all of her is trembling; both you and Art tried to get her on the epidural, but fuck if she’s not stubborn. She crooks the tip of her index finger into the fleecy receiving blanket, pulling it down just a little so she can see the baby’s entire pink face.

The baby opens just one bleary eye, only halfway, but it’s enough for her to see you, for you to feel yourself being seen.

Tashi sobs and Art sobs and you wonder, momentarily, if her obstetrician can reach up the cavity of your body, too, and tug out your heart.

So, of course you hate hospitals, and of course you feel guilty. For many reasons. Chief among them being how, the very moment your dear, gutted friend conks out, you’ve stolen to the hall to ring her ex. And he’s asking you, hopeful, if her fucking newborn is one of those ugly ones.

You sigh into the receiver, shaking your head all solemn. You’re sure any passersby think you’re delivering horrific news. “She’s beautiful,” you confess sadly.

“Fuck!” Patrick says forcefully, like he’s just stubbed his toe.

You can hear the hum of the highway on his end of the line, and he’s definitely a bad enough driver that he shouldn’t be calling you right now, because you don’t want to be back here at his bedside when he’s in a fullbody cast after a nearfatal accident—and you would come to visit, actually, if he were in the hospital; maybe that’d just be the guilt again—but this is pretty urgent.

You frown, tucking your hand under your armpit and managing a smile at a passing couple cautiously rolling their precious trolley to the NICU. “They named her Lily.”

Patrick scoffs. “Those fucking assholes.”

“Right?”

You appreciate his company in your deplorable sorrow. There’s a special corner in the firescape for the two of you, but at least it’ll be the two of you.

“That’s a beautiful name for a baby girl,” he says, practically insulted.

You sigh again. “I know,” you pout.

They’d planned the wedding, as they did all other things, a bona fide team. A well oiled unit. Art and Tashi. A&T. Handing off tasks with practiced efficiency, like another one of her hyperintensive drills, wherein he would sooner keel over heaving than drop the ball. The wedding planner was effectively ornamental once they really got into it.

And they really got into it.

Tashi was one of those little girls who stuffed a stream of toilet paper in her ponytail and pictured the vinyl flooring of her home’s warmly lit passage as a ceremonial aisle on the Amalfi Coast at sunset. Here comes the bride, aluminium foil wedding band, ramshackle wildflower bouquet picked from the backyard, et cetera.

Most times, she’d have you play groom.

But you don’t internalise that too much. Because she had you play a lot of things. And sometimes she’d have their senile Mastiff Mutt, Franklin, play groom, too. Really, the most important part was her having you at all.

And, apparently, as a little boy, Art used to page obsessively back and forth through the decrepit scrapbook of his grandparents’ Peoria union, the pictures frayed and hued dandelion. So it’s great that they found each other, and so many dreams were coming true, and everything was fine. Everything was better.

You’d been happy she was happy, really, you had. You hate big endeavours in your name. If she’d married you, you’d have made her elope to Puerto Rico.

And now she was all sprawled three-ring binders, pen behind each ear, Game Face On. And Art was there, talking place settings in full sincerity, so yeah. It’s fine. Better, even.

She let him intercalate all the mawkish, ubercorny bullshit—the Fleetwood Mac, the garter toss, the pictures of his grandmother at the centrepiece of every table. Because they were a team and it was his wedding as much as hers. And you’d told her, too. You’d told her that she’s going to have a mawkish, ubercorny bullshit wedding to a mawkish, ubercorny bullshit guy. But she’d waved you off with a dismissively sentimental smile. I just want to marry him, she’d told you, which had felt like a million and one serrated spurns all over.

A getaway car, really? you’d deadpanned. Then, leaning closer to her phonescreen, eyes narrowing at their shared twodozenpage Pinterest board, incredulous and disgusted, Are the cans really necessary?

Apparently so.

You were standing at the foreshore, toes all grainy, shoes in hand, pistachiorose and Patrick Zweig on your tongue, your ass still seadamp. Art and Tashi pulled up in front of you, cans rattling, like a justmarried Lyft order.

When you climbed into the backseat, they were in the middle of sharing in dulcet laughter over something or the other. Something that did not concern you. Which was fine, and better, and the flower arrangements were spectacular. And, anyway, you’re busy trying not to get sand on this vintage carpet.

“Shouldn’t you two be honeymooning?”

Art looked back at you, his arm outstretched, wrist resting on the bend of the wheel. He gave you this smile you couldn’t discern, which most of his smiles were, and are. He blew a raspberry from his rubicund mouth and tsked.

“What, without you?” he scoffed, wry but playful, and you realised that, though he teased, and wanted you to know as much, his goodnature was sincere.

And your fingers twitched to wrap his seatbelt—because he was wearing the seatbelt—around his rosy throat five or six or seven times and tug hard.

Tashi threw her head back and laughed into the humidity of the night, of their wedding night.

Tashi squirmed in the leather passengerseat of the ivorycoloured 1960 Ford Thunderbird convertible.

You were leaning over in between them from the back, straddling the armrest. And she watched Art turn his head and kiss you. His hand looked huge on the messy, delicate bone of your jaw. It felt cool and clammy, you remember. Tashi sucked in a breath. You two broke apart after a moment, laughing, your palm coming down on his forearm like he’d just made a joke.

“That,” you said, making a puerile face as he absently brushed a thumb over your cheek, “Was too far.”

Your eyes were still shining with tears.

Art nodded, grinning, slipping his hand from your face and running it through his sweaty shoresand hair. “Anything for you, baby, but maybe not that.”

Tashi was flushed and florid and tamping her thighs tighter together and she wanted you both to put your hands on her.

Her arm slunk across the centre console to press her palm into his chest. And she ran her nails along the tender skin of your inner arm. And Art looked back at you like he was asking for permission, which was the first time in a long time he’d done that. And probably the last time since. And you don’t know why you nodded, but you did.

He gave you another strange, cursory kiss on the corner of your mouth, then leaned across the centre console and nipped at Tashi’s earlobe. The whetted burst of pain sent a visible shiver through her bones. She bit her lip and sighed.

“Mrs Donaldson,” he’d murmured, all husky and low. His white buttonup was all sweatrumpled and unfurled. He looked handsome and disheveled like a fallen angel or those illustrations on the covers of erotic paperbacks.

You swallowed, overwhelmed by it all.

You pressed the seam of your lips to the skin where her neck met her shoulder and her lithe fingers encircled your wrist and guided it between her legs.

You and Art are friends—good friends, by now—but sometimes you feel more like business partners. Cofounders of Keeping Tashi Duncan Happy and Okay Inc.

So, when he cannot stomach all the vomit—so, so much fucking vomit—for all his earnest, anguished, tearful trying, he calls you. Because he and his hairtrigger loins can’t help her right now.

And you don’t tease, or berate, or say it should’ve been you.

And he doesn’t protest, or control freak, or remind you it wasn’t you, it was him.

He dips out to stock up on crackers and barley sugar sweets, and you stay with Tashi and stand sentry on emesis duty.

You hadn’t known that any one thing was capable of maiming her this way. Tashi Duncan, your impenetrable infanta. Fast to get up, faster, still, to dry her tears. But this baby is wringing her bone dry. She’s feeble, swollen, and practically debilitated.

You feel her spine shift as she shakes and heaves into the toilet. You hate her like this. At mercy to her bones.

You can’t help the archaic scorn. None of this, none of any of it, would’ve happened, had it been you. But it wasn’t.

You cradle Tashi’s feverish head in the bend of your knee. You thread your knuckles through her sweaty curls. You rub your fingers into her collar, tracing her bones where they have been swallowed by her plummy sallow skin. In college, you used to give each other lymphatic drainage massages.

You’re on Virginia Key Beach with T and her brothers, at the edge of the ocean. You’re, like, fourteen. Tevin’s mouth is a comically fluorescent shade of blue as he topes down a Slurpee. Tre hops over waves. Tre keeps saying the sharks will get you, they’ll smell it, blood in the water, blood in the water and Tevin keeps holding the Slurpee so high that the ultramarine of it obstructs the sun. And Tashi is yelling I’m not even on my fucking period! even though she is red and wet between her thighs, and give it to me, Tev, it’s mine, you took mine! as she reaches and reaches and reaches, unable to grasp what she wants.

There are some women unmoved by such trivialities as their own blood. Eightinch stilettos, eight months in. People will assume Tashi Duncan, pulchritude and powerhouse, to be one of these women.

But you’ll know better.

She’s so good at the tennis, ultimately, because she listens to her blood. She lets it move her. Lets it give her power. She is a mesmerising glass carafe of red.

But when it spills, it pours. When she breaks, she shatters.

Art Donaldson’s child writhes inside her, swills her blood. And you watch.

Patrick takes you home from the hospital. You were planning on sinking into the void of your couch while forking miserably into a whole tray of lasagna by yourself, but you feel bad. You feel guilty and lonely. So you invite him in.

You thunk your stoneware roaster on the granite of your peninsular countertop. He’s sat on a barstool and you’re standing across from him, and he wastes no time tucking in. You nudge at the broiled cheese with your fork.

You’re crying, which he doesn’t mind, but it’s a little distracting while he’s trying to eat, is all. He peers up at you, circumspect, as he chews.

You roll your eyes at him. “Please don’t make me cry alone,” you tell him.

He chews, swallows, licks some pasta from his gums. He rests the fork against the edge of the tray and dusts his hands off.

“I don’t cry,” he says, shrugging like it’s out of his hands. The corner of his mouth quirks up as you fix him with a sullen glare.

“I’ve seen you cry,” you say pointedly, dropping your own silverware.

He shrugs again. “Yeah,” he says, “One time. That was the only time I’ve ever cried. Ever.”

He has this way of saying things like he absolutely means them. This hamfisted sincerity, serrated deadpan. And, when you’re emotional like this, all husked and raw, it’s unfortunately an extremely effective way to make you laugh. His eyes gleam with victory as you duck your head and giggle wetly.

“You feel special?” he smirks.

You roll your eyes again, tears still trickling pools into the tender shadowed skin beneath your eyes. “I feel especially depressed,” you reply thickly.

He flits his eyes back and forth between the both of yours a few times. You’re reminded of the abject tedious torture of sitting through one of Art’s tennis games. “Are you really? Or are you just moping?” he asks you.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your little Effexor prescription vial, rattling it twice, and tossing it his way. It’s a sloppy underhand, but he catches it easily.

“Huh,” he muses, turning it between his fingertips. “That’s why you look so different? I thought you were just putting on sympathy weight.”

Your lips wobble, and your eyes burn and blur again, your throat swelling shut like fucking anaphylactic excoriation, and you catch your face with your hands and cry.

“Don’t be mean right now,” you blubber.

Patrick blinks, sobering with a smart, the humour seeping off his face and replacing itself with an almost comically disturbed frown.

“Okay, okay,” he says, his voice light with a culpable urgency reserved for a triggered, irate straitjacket patient. He reaches over the lasagna, the savoury brume warming his forearms, and he takes your wrists and peels your fingers from your eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

You hiccup breathlessly. Your tears slithering down your cheeks in rills.

“I’m sorry,” says Patrick. He presses his thumbs into your pulsepoints, like he can quash your distress through your radial arteries. “You look hot, okay? Really, you do.”

For his part, he seems genuinely contrite, and utterly concerned, and he probably means it. He is rarely insincere, even when his tongue is in his cheek. But your sulky inner voice says he’s bargaining. How about I quit being an ass and you stop with the ugly crying and I can finish this pasta and hotfoot it out of here? But this is your house. And your pasta. And you think you should get to mourn his exgirlfriend’s womb, if you so choose.

You sob harder, shoulders quavering. His brows raise in quiet alarm when you wrest your arms from his fingers.

You snuffle and swallow. “Please stop,” you moan sadly.

Somewhere between the cake cutting—which walked that revolting, quintessentially Art and Tashi line between sweet and sexy; she daubed some frosting on his nose, he licked it off her finger—and your purloining of a slice or two for your and Patrick’s beachside bitchsesh, the speakers are thumping with ‘I Wanna Be Your Lover’.

Everyone is wasted.

You don’t even mean to, but one of Art’s cousins, who is clearly eking out his fraternity days that have long since started mouldering, keeps ordering you shots from the open bar. And you keep downing them, one after the other. He’s wearing a practically lurid red polo that really errs on the ‘optional’ side of Black Tie Optional, but he has a really charming smile, the light glistering off the white of his teeth as you dance.

And—fuck it—he’s hot. And he’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you in the middle of this dance floor, grinding against you like you’re teenagers at a CYO dance.

The lights are scintillating technicolour and the music is so loud you can feel it in your rib cage and it doesn’t take long for the room to start spinning like the world’s trippiest ferris wheel.

Cody—or Connor, maybe—goes to the bathroom to piss, and you track down the newlyweds on the other side of the room. Tashi’s beautiful eyes, already aglow, light up even more when she sees you.

“Hi, baby!” She kind of has to yell over the music. God, it’s been a while since you’ve seen her let loose like this. Either of them, really. They’re having a great fucking time. The Happy Couple. It makes you feel sick. “You good?”

“I’m fucked up,” you smile blearily, because all of a sudden the room’s spinning has increased in velocity.

You fight the urge to grab for her hand for some fleeting sense of stability. Because, if you do, you’ll tackle her to the ground and kiss her until someone hauls you off.

And her husband’s right there.

“Me too,” says said husband. He is flushed in the face, grinning elatedly, his eyes drunkenly disfocused, Tashi’s glossy, nudepink lip-print on his cheek.

Tashi, as ever, seems appreciably more put-together than Art looks and you feel. All silken and nitid. Art’s holding her with the desperate adoration of someone who knows, in the far far end of his bevvied mind, what you’re thinking right now. You narrow your eyes at him. Then,

“Do you wanna dance?” you ask on a whim.

“Sure,” Art shrugs, a sloppy smile curving on his lips. And by now Tashi’s turned to exchange polite smalltalk with some or other extended family member, so he impishly adds, “Let me ask the missus.”

He and Tashi have a short conversation that you can’t quite hear, and then she’s pulling you in by the wrist to whisper in your ear,

“Don’t let him drink anymore, okay?”

She pecks a kiss onto your cheek before you have time to question this rule, but you know her well enough to know she’s also surreptitiously telling you to slow down. You spitefully nab another shot on your and Art’s way to the dance floor.

Art’s a good dancer. You would certainly not have pegged him as one, if asked. But when he’s twisting and moving his feet and putting his hands on your waist in a halfway facetious impression of a slow dance, you realise it’s true.

“Congratulations, by the way,” you shout when you get close enough to his ear. “Happy for you.”

He winces at your volume, raising his fingers to his ear and laughing and looking at you and shaking his head. “No you’re not.”

Patrick watches you sob for a few more moments before smacking his hand against the counter.

“Let’s make one,” he says, declaratively.

You snivel and sweep some tears away, looking up at him. “What?”

“Let’s make one,” he repeats, more urgently now, “If we make one right now, it’ll show up before the end of the year, and we can still weaponise it. Come on.”

He’s sliding off the stool and reaching across the counter to grab your hand and tow you out of the kitchen.

“Patrick,” you whine in demurral, stumbling after him.

But he pulls you along even harder, making a decisive path toward the hallway. “Come on!” he insists, “I’m serious.”

“You’re broke.”

Which is true. He’s been snipped off from the trust fund, which you’d thought was purely the stuff of Murdochian nightmares. But he whipped out his Chase Mobile app and showed you the negative balance to prove it. He’d rather bum it out than suit up and schmooze. So he’s not spoiled for funds right now, nor is he spoiled for wins, and you aren’t equipped with great confidence in a potential future as his baby mama.

“They’re pissed, they’re not cruel,” he tells you, effectively shoving you into your room and kicking off his shoes. “I’ll be back on the payroll with a kid on the docket, I promise. My mom would love it, actually. My sister just had a hysterectomy, this’ll be like a family miracle. You’ll have the child support of a Kardashian.”

He grabs your head and kisses you sloppily—he tastes like tomatoes—clumsily walking you back into the bed.

You think he’s too old to be fingering you the way he is. Rubbing your clit all clumsy, like a faulty button on an old remote. You’re a little sticky, but not enough for what he plans to do here. He sighs and leans back.

“This isn’t working,” he says, all pensive, sitting back on his heels. It’s a little difficult, though, to take him seriously, when his cock is on the front end of halfmast and still rising.

When Tashi first started seeing him, you remember her barrelling into your room all stiff and saucereyed and clamorous. As though a particularly warhankering pigeon had just been elected president, or an alien society had been discovered in the thick of the Amazon. But no. She held your shoulders and shook them wildly and yelled, I’m telling you, it’s fucking huge!

She made a point to you that she’d never be caught dead gushing about his dick to his face. She said it was important to humble him.

So you want to maintain that tradition.

And, anyway, it’s a big dick, not the cure to cancer. You don’t even know what he needs it all for. It’s probably all he has left. You can’t imagine it even gets him very far.

People have frontiers. Parameters. Limits. To their patience, to their bodies. Patrick used to kill the sprinting drills, back in school. He likes going end to end, reaching those limits. But once you start pissing someone off and/or ramming into their cervix, everything else is probably a nonstarter.

You sit up, drawing your knees to your chest. “Uh, yeah. It isn’t.”

“Well, is there something I can do? Should I act like her? Will that get you going?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer. He huffs and crosses his arms and imitates Tashi’s angry moue.

And his dick is still hard, harder now, so you splutter into laughter. You laugh really, really hard. Then he guides your legs back open and swipes his fingers between them again.

And he grins and says, “Bingo.”

You got really into Pilates for about a month or two mid last year. You’re starting to think you should have kept at it. Your knees are hooked over his shoulders, the undersides of your thighs pressed to his chest. Your hips ache, but it feels, regrettably, really fucking great otherwise.

It’s eminently uncomfortable, sure. For your part, it hasn’t really occurred to you to let a man fuck you raw. Your lingering childishness still recoils a bit at the very idea. And it feels strange, that gauche drag of skin on skin. You’d need to be really wet for this to be working, and that hilarious necessity makes you wetter in response, and then he’s slipping in and out and fucking you raw and he doesn’t even seem to be trying too hard.

He’s a little relieved. You’re letting this happen and taking it like a champ and your pussy’s deep enough to give him room to work.

So he does. Because he knows how. He knows how to work things from here.

He’s had more sex than you’ve attended pilates classes.

The thought of you, splayed and tensile across a reformer, gets him pretty hot. Very hot, actually, and he can tell because the surface of his skin is bloomed pink, and your fingers blench away from his shoulders like he’s caught aflame.

He knows by now how tremendously warm he runs in these moments. He usually asks about a girl’s AC before things get going.

Should he say that aloud, or will it piss you off?

You probably see your appending to the convoluted list of unfortunate holes to sheathe the great penis of Patrick Zweig as a little beneath you.

This is his chance to remind you that Tashi Duncan doesn’t go back on her word for just any heavy pair of balls.

He angles your hips to get deeper, experimenting with ways to evoke a reaction. He’s working you like you’re paying him.

You’re trying really hard not to say anything too nice about his dick. But he’s plunging hard and fast into you, rolling his hips with all the dexterity of fucking Magic Mike, and—well—you wouldn’t be able to, even if you wanted.

The words you’re saying are not in the dictionary. You’re sweating, panting, tugging a little mercilessly at his hair. Patrick bends your legs and hoists your pelvis. He can’t keep a trainer right now, but some adrenalinefueled strength is allowing him to support your body like it’s nothing. He wasn’t bluffing about you looking hot. He’s groping you all over with the ferocious depravity of a necrophile.

There’s some real blasphemous perversion slipping off his tongue. Ersatz porno shit that should be giving you early onset morning sickness, but he’s going all Daniel Day Lewis with it, and you’re kind of buying it.

Fucking come-slut… fuckin’— fuck… gonna breed you… gonna put a baby in you.

You’re audibly wet. The air around you grows practically mephitic. You’re losing your fucking mind. If this shit falls flat, and he can’t get you pregnant tonight, and you dump and block him and never want to speak to him again, he at least hopes you remember this for a long time.

And—you know what—fuck it if that wasn’t memorable enough, he thinks, feeling his cock twitch as he slooshes molten litres into you. Because he’s pulling out, flipping you over, and hiking up your hips. Maybe this’ll be.

He fucks you, he comes in you. A lot. He needs a second to replenish.

You steal to the kitchen. Your inner thighs are chafed and viscid. You cover the lasagna dish and cache it away, and take a second to scoff at some vapidly controversial Twitter thread. You yelp when you feel his arms around you again, lifting you off the tile and carrying you back to the bedroom.

Patrick’s never really thought too hard about his come. It’s an ancillary deluge. A mess to clean most often. Maybe he’s considered meliorating his diet when someone’s gleaned a taste and gagged.

But right now it’s serving a purpose. And he is, among other things, relieved for that, too. He’s not gonna sit around and mourn this while it happens and ask you if you’d really have his child. He’d rather look you in your beautiful, milky pussy than a gift horse in the mouth.

He refuses to waste a drop of himself. He makes sure to coat your insides with it.

He lies sheathed inside you for many minutes after he comes, gripping your hips harshly to him, groaning like this were the real orgasm.

Afterwards, he holds your knees to his chest and lifts your ass and presses his palm to your cunt as if sealing an entrance, making sure nothing escapes. He’s trying to give his guys a fighting chance.

You were, at first—as in, after two or three rounds—a little amused by this stupid, elaborate routine. Something out of an old maid’s pastel mommy blog. You were amused, and frankly weirded out, by what seemed like a laughable lack of dignity on his part.

Now—now you’re feeling aroused by it. Because being aroused disrupts the dumb ritual and kind of annoys him.

When he is holding your knees up and your cunt twitches, he rolls his eyes.

“You already got off,” he chuckles, shaking his head. He sounds a bit spent, too. He’s usually flaked out by now, in his actual customary postcome routine. “Just stay still for a second.”

The fact that he doesn’t want you to come makes you almost desperately want to. He holds his palm over your cunt but he offers no friction.

The simple touch is enough, though. You can find your own internal rhythm.

Your head falls back against the pillow.

“Oh fuck.”

And maybe you’re being particularly loud and lewd in this moment, while he’s trying to be serious, and get something done. Because you’re still doing this longcon in calling his bluff. You don’t think he knows what he wants.

You don’t want to believe that you two are really so bitter as to start a life out of spleen.

You still don’t know if he knows whether or not he actually likes you.

“What the fuck?” he laughs, “I said don’t.” He squeezes your cunt like he wants to tear flesh from bone, trying to render you still again.

But it only makes you moan louder.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so good,” you mewl indecently, smirking a bit, because you’re joking, but you also sort of mean it, “It feels so good having your come inside me, I can already feel your little fuckass kid crawling around in there. He’ll grow up loving bagels, I just know it.”

These taunts are supposed to disgust him or hurt his feelings or simply turn him off, and Patrick does sort of look like wants to throttle you. Because he’s tired and a little grumpy and he knows you’re not letting him stay the night. But a part of him has always found you funny. So he just ends up getting hard again. Your crude, glib moaning brings him to such a pitch of want that he yanks you into his lap and fucks you roughly, gripping your jaw.

And you grin as he brings your head close. You feel it’s some kind of victory.

Even though you’re just prolonging this dumb, bitter, unfulfilling farce. Making sure there’s more of him inside you.

You two should not be parents.

By the eighth or ninth round, he starts getting conversational.

“I was one of those babies that never shut up,” he tells you, fucking up into you in cowgirl. He grunts and makes a thoughtful face. “Colic? Is that what it’s called? Yeah, I think I was a colicky baby.”

You make a face down at him. “I thought you said you’ve never cried,” you pant, rocking your hips back and forth.

He rolls his eyes again.

“Yeah, obviously I was lying. I cry all the fucking time.”

You consider this, your hips stilling, your palms resting against his hairy hotplate chest.

“Over what?” you ask, “Tashi?”

He blinks, scowling a bit, like he thinks you’re making fun. Then his grips your hips and starts to move you on his dick again. He doesn’t answer. Your pussy feels warm and raw.

Geez, how long have you two been at this?

He asks, absently, about baby names.

“I thought every girl had, like, a whole fucking list of them,” he says, pushing his semen back into your used cunt with his long fingers.

You don’t entertain that presumptuous conversation, but you don’t underestimate his commitment, either.

He’s back the next day, and the next, like clocking into a shift. He brings supplies. Sliced pineapple, fresh honey, ground cinnamon, cough syrup, two boxes of ClearBlue.

“I read acupuncture helps too,” he says.

“Absolutely not,” you say, but you let him feed you baby aspirin while you ride him in reverse on your couch watching Selling Sunset.

He feigns disinterest, but keeps tilting to look past your shoulder whenever the arguments start riling up.

“Ugh, Nicole’s a bitch,” he mutters.

Then he grunts and comes inside you, grasping your hips to sink you down and hold you still.

Her name, for the better or worse part of the first and second trimesters, was actually Stella.

Art’s grandma used to love that Philip Sidney poem, and Pam’s favourite film is Streetcar. It’s just that Tashi got sick of the name, and all other things, at a stage. So it didn’t stick.

They were oscillating between Lily and Rooney towards the end, and only made the final call when they saw her.

But, for a while there, she was Stella.

Stella’s craving peanuts, Stella’s the size of a rutabaga, Stella’s a kicker. And, boy, was she.

She’d ram her foetal feet into Tashi’s ribs over and over like she was on a treadmill. Which Tashi was starting to think of as karmic consequence for all the times she’d have Art doing cardio until he fainted.

You crouch down between her knees, resting your head against the amorphous motion of her distended stomach.

“Hey hey, Stella girl,” you whisper, “You wanna stop giving your mom a hard time?”

Tashi chokes out a wounded laugh from above you.

“That’s how Art talks to her.”

“Ugh, don’t ruin it,” you frown, moving to stand up.

But she sticks her leg out to halt you, grabbing your hand and tugging you back down, shifting her hips and spreading her thighs further apart.

You never could resist her sweet face when it was all crumpled up in asking. Because she got all soft and wet, like a flower caught in a gale.

She looks even softer now, over the horizon of her bloated body.

You gently tug her cotton shorts down and put your mouth on her and Stella stills.

“One more,” you say anxiously, eyebrows knitted in concern as Patrick sighs and unboxes a another pregnancy test—the fifth one—and you quaff down another glass of water to get your bladder teeming, because no way.

No way, right?

You’ve been taking him raw at all angles, and swigging shots of cough syrup, and weaning off the antidepressants, but no way.

“I don’t know what you thought was gonna happen,” he calls from beyond the bathroom door as you’re pissing on stick number six.

It’s just that you don’t feel anything.

You think you should be feeling more.

You think of Tashi, writhing and groaning like a bullet victim, miserably clutching her turgid body. You think of newborn Lily, her cottonsoft, tiny eye peeling open and seeing you. Deep steeped coffee, gleaming in the sterile light. Tashi’s eye. Tashi’s hair. Tashi’s baby. That tender absorption, that vivid creation.

If this kid is taking nothing from you, it’s gonna come out all Patrick. And—just—you don’t have the bandwidth to contend with such a prospect right now.

He drives you to the clinic every time. Every single time. One night, you rouse sharply from a morbid dream punctuated by the squall of wailing children. You call him. It’s 2 AM. He answers, and comes over, and drives you to the clinic, and tries not to nod off as you’re filling out the medical paperwork for the dozenth time. He also tries not to express any overt reaction to you changing your mind again.

Is it a kindness, to tease a man with the brutal decimation of his unborn progeny? No, of course not. His mum’s already preemptively enrolled the thing into a fancy German daycare.

But you hate that he’s given you an ultimatum and put it inside you. That’s the worst place, in relation to you, for an ultimatum to be.

If you tell Tashi, either he’s in, or you’re out. And those aren’t really odds you’re keen on rolling.

There are all sorts of ways to be a shitty friend. You opt for evasive gambits via claims of hectic work schedules and immovable errands. Any retching you do is that of guilt. You’re loathe to lie to her, to house this wretched zygote, to stay away. But she used to be able to tell when you’d changed your shampoo. She’d sniff him on you, in you, in a second. She’d just know. And she shouldn’t. She can’t. And if you could just unearth this presentient betrayal and toss it in a petri dish, she doesn’t have to.

You don’t know what matters more.

He drives you to the clinic. Teary teenaged girls, redcapped pickets out front. The receptionist knows you two by name by now.

Patrick slumps beside you. He’s still slogging through the first chapter of Last Child in the Woods. He’s pretty sure he’s never sat and read an actual, physical book to completion before in his life. But he’s too easily abstracted for Audible. So he’s working on it.

You’re groaning frustratedly and thunking the clipboard repeatedly against your skull. He absently slips a hand over your forehead, shielding the next few collisions before you huff and drop the board and turn to face him. He looks at you askance.

“You can change your mind,” he shrugs. Again, he generously omits.

You scoff at him, incredulous and a little irked. “I’m not gonna change my mind,” you grumble.

He shrugs again. “Okay.”

He knows what it’s like to have a mother in sackcloth and ashes. To be less of a son than a sentient thing of regret with little arms and legs. To not know what to do with that, or yourself. He wouldn’t do that to a kid.

You watch him thumb through Richard Louv for a few more moments.

Then, “You’re probably sick of me, aren’t you?”

He smiles a bit before schooling it stoic, slowly lowering the book and fixing you with this wry but incongruously tender look. “Of course I am,” he tells you.

“Get mad at me, then.”

He smiles again.

He knows what that’s like, too. Dad mad at mom. Stilted five course dinner. Dad telling him and Saskia what a goddamn headache mom is on the drive to school. Of course he’s sick of you, he’s always sick of you. But he likes you. And his head feels fine.

He turns back to the book, shrugging.

“Can’t,” he says simply.

You feel for baby Lily. She’ll never be able to get away with anything.

It’s Art who sniffs it on you, in you.

Tashi’s asleep upstairs when, after a fortnight and a bit, you rally up the guts to come over. Art opens the door and looks surprised for mere moments, and there is perhaps a flicker of concern, but then he smiles. And there’s only very mild ire there. The rest is fatigue and goodnature.

“Hello, stranger,” he smirks, turning to filch a set of keys from the marble catchall in the foyer. He is wheeling Lily out in the thirteenhundred dollar stroller he had lost six nights of sleep picking out. “You coming?”

So now you’re on a walk.

Lily lays on her soft belly in the stroller. The walls around her are a breathable mesh, and she fights to hoist her head and gawp at passing trees. This is, apparently, the only way she’ll do tummy time.

“And the only time she gets any sleep,” Art adds, jutting a finger over his shoulder in the general direction of their home down the street.

Lily’s wearing a ruffly lavender romper. Her skin is a healthy shade of linen and her hair is dark. Her fists have tiny moony fingernails that—when you comment how, Her nails are long. Like, sharp—Art explains how he keeps trying to cut them with a pair of tiny silver scissors. But they make Tashi nervous, their sharpness and its proximity to Lily’s fleshy hands.

“She said she wants her to get a grip on the world,” Art chuckles.

You snort, and you have to skip a bit to keep up with his brisk strides. “Oh, that’s definitely what she said,” you confirm.

Lily tosses and turns a bit in the strollerbed. She gurgles an impressive spit bubble, by Art’s standards. Most things she does are probably impressive to him, quite frankly. He tells you how, the other morning, she had thrown up breakfast onto his shoulder with such verve and accuracy that they’re already talking tennis lessons.

“Oh God,” you grimace. Not at the story, but at the memory of his nauseous pallor in the throes of Tashi’s own gravid sickness. “How’s that been for you?”

Art flashes a selfdeprecating simper. “I’m managing.”

When she casts her little coral taglet security blanket curbside, Lily scrunches up her face, grasping, gearing up for the Big Scream. Art sighs and says, “No, please?” as he stops to pick it up and give it back to her, and his arm, when he sticks it in, blooms with little ruddy strings as she claws at him.

He looks more than a little surprised she isn’t crying.

Apparently, in that meantime, you had jutted your fingers into the cot and offered her a pinky as a peace offering. Versailles-style, like you’ll be punished later.

But he seems content with how she’s chewing you and figures you guys can stop here, for a bit, beneath these treemottled springtime sunbeams. In the garden of the home in front of which you’re standing, huge orange bougainvillea loll their petaltongues in the breeze.

“I just…” Art flounders for his words, then scoffs a not unkind, but vaguely embittered, sort of laugh, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why him?”

You groan. “Don’t ask.”

“How is he?”

“He’s—” you waver, then shake your head, before finishing, “Ugh.”

“Patrick’s ‘ugh’? Patrick? Wow. Should we call all the outlets? I mean, that’s never happened before. Patrick. Ugh. You’re blowing my mind.”

You snort, and Lily laughs, and Art informs you that that is a very hard reaction to glean. And he rubs his temples, because all the wails sort of tremor at that same migrainous pitch. No matter if they’re amused or rabidly apoplectic. But you can enjoy it, the laughter.

“Can you just tell her for me?” you frown helplessly up at him.

That flicker in his tired eyes that wants to agree is purely paternal, but he sighs and shakes his head. “You know I can’t.”

He’s genuinely sympathetic.

“She’ll forgive you,” he tells you. You roll your eyes and hang your head, kicking piteously at the wheel of the stroller. He intercepts your foot with his, lightly shoving it away before bending to search for your gaze. “Hey,” he says, “She really will.”

You huff. “She’s never had to.”

You instinctively press your fingers into your womb, through your shirt. You feel the strange sensation of something starting to swell beneath the flesh.

“You’ll be a good mom,” says Art.

It’s a small relief, for you, to feel your face screw into its shut-the-fuck-up-Art expression. It’s something you know how to feel, a well trodden path. Maybe, once they drop you like a bad habit, he’ll still send you those furtive pictures he likes to take of Tashi sleeping. And you and Patrick can dualmasturbate to them, pretending your swollen belly isn’t in the way.

What you like about them, all three of them, is that they have all always loved you so simply. Tashi is severe, and Patrick is flippant, and Art is occasionally insincere. But they each care about you, to varying degrees, in their own ways. And they do so without reservation, even when you’ve been an ass.

You think that’s how you’re supposed to love your child.

You should probably figure out how he does it in the next five to ten seconds.

You ask, “What makes you say that?”

And his eyes flick down to where Lily is still gumming your knuckle like a dog with a bone, then back up to you, and he gives you one of those smiles. Your face screws. Shut the fuck up Art. Then, he tells you, “You love harder than you give yourself credit for.”

Lily gags around your pinky.

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userautumn · 6 days ago

Note

i thought you would be happy with buck getting his oh moment and realizing his feelings for eddie but i guess you really were sucked into the bucktommy fanon created huh. Shame that you won't be able to enjoy canon buddie when it happens.

This is the only message I am going to answer about this specifically since I initially brought the topic up on my blog.

So, first of all, by definition, BuckTommy isn't fanon. Fanon is a ship or character that is completely generated by fandom. Buddie, for example, is fanon. Although they share a strong platonic bond, their relationship is not textually romantic. They do not kiss. They are not textually established romantic partners. Eddie said in the last episode that he is straight. So Buddie only exists within a fandom context. Conversely, BuckTommy is established as canon. Buck has touched mouths with that man on-screen. They were established as boyfriends and, now, ex-boyfriends. So it is, quite literally, impossible for BuckTommy to be fanon, even if fans do extrapolate, embellish, or reconstruct that relationship for their own pleasure. So, that's number one.

Number Two: According to this fandom, Buck and Eddie have had their oh moments a combined total of six times now at least (3x15, 3x03, 4x13, and 5x11, to name a few) and absolutely nothing concrete has come out of these events. The shooting is the closest we ever got, and that was four seasons ago. I don't begrudge anyone for reading that moment at the end of tonight's episode within a romantic Buddie context. Go absolutely nuts and have fun with it. But to me, that moment, such as it was, was more of the same - Buck or Eddie look at each other a certain way, or have evident (non-romantic) feelings related to the other, fandom loses their minds, they speculate, convince themselves they're right, nothing happens, rinse and repeat. I'm personally tired of the spin cycle.

I said I wanted strides toward Buddie canon to be made crystal clear and that's still true. You clearly see things differently (and that's alright), but outside the Buddie fanfiction hivemind, tonight's episode was not crystal clear. There was no discussion of Buck's feelings. He didn't vent them to Maddie or Bobby or Eddie himself. He didn't say, out loud, or indicate in any explicitly romantic way that he has feelings for Eddie. Buck having feelings about Eddie leaving is not the same as having feelings for him. They are best friends. They are family, actually. If Eddie leaves, Buck is losing the anchor to his support system and his (pseudo-)son. That's a big deal. That is an extraordinary weight to carry, especially on the heels of a significant breakup, and especially while dealing with abandonment issues. There was nothing romantic about that and, reducing that moment to a romantic reading, seems... odd. To me.

I'd like to think I'd still be able to enjoy Canon Buddie if it happens tbh. I actively write fic about those two in my spare time even though I keep my conversations about them to the DMs. But if I'm not able to enjoy it, it won't be because of the ship itself, it will be because I finally tired of the abject cruelty that's cropped up in this space. There's this unspoken rule in fandom that what happens during hiatus stays in hiatus, and we all just silently agree to move on from it when the show comes back. But I'm having a hard time with that this year because I've seen and experienced some absolutely insane things from this fandom the last few months that have stuck with me. So. Maybe I won't still enjoy it, but I hope I will.

I was really angry with the (non-Buddie related) content of this episode when you messaged me, so you probably thought or hoped I would bitch and curse you out, and we'd do this whole back and forth thing that would inevitably lead to you getting blocked. But I meant what I said - I have no interest in arguing with anyone about this show. We're not going to agree, and that's okay. I'm not your inspirational Buddie Warrior, and that's also okay. I have too much to deal with than to actively engage in internet beef. What is is what is, whether you or I or both or neither of us like it, and arguing about it isn't going to change it. So we might as will just learn to live with it and each other as best as we can.

I'm going to go watch TV now.

#I was on my way to bed but my raspberry sorbet is about to be delivered. So. Plans have changed. Lol.#jack answers mail #tv: 911 #911 spoilers

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soul-controller · 11 months ago

Text

The Man of Steal

For Superman, it seemed like his desire to enjoy his normal civilian life as Clark Kent was an impossibility. Any time he planned to have any sort of family event with his wife Lois and two sons (be it dinner or a simple trip to the movies), there always seemed to be some sort of interruption from the news that begged for the assistance of the crime-fighting vigilante.

This was proven to be true once again as the Kent family began to assemble for their family dinner. Just as Clark started to help himself to Lois’ home-cooked meal, the television in the living room suddenly went off as a breaking news bulletin appeared. With his innate desire to protect others and save them from danger, the superhero couldn’t stop himself from leaning past the dining room table and taking a closer look at the screen. For several minutes, the man intently listened to what the news reporter had to say. According to that anchor, it appeared as though a museum a few towns over from Smallville had been broken into by a criminal.

When the reporter first brought up the fact that it was one individual stuck in a stand-off with nearby police surrounding the museum, Clark had originally decided to just allow the cops to do their job so he can spend time with his family. But as the news anchor began to include more details about the museum, Clark’s attention was immediately piqued when she stated that the museum had just recently opened an exhibit devoted towards educating everyday individuals about Superman and his home planet Krypton.

As soon as the reporter began to discuss the fact that the museum had a priceless amount of Kryptonian relics on display, Clark gave an apologetic look towards his wife and kids before quietly sitting up and rushing into his bedroom to pull his suit on. The threat of having some criminal get their hands on some Kryptonian equipment rightfully caused Clark to be alarmed. While he dedicated his life towards using these powers for good, Clark was fully aware of how detrimental Kryptonian items could be with others. In fact, it was for these exact reasons that he recalled how he didn’t even offer his blessing towards the museum’s exhibit when they first proposed it to him. Of course, his prediction came true and now he was going to have to fix it before countless people could get hurt! So as he pulled on his suit and took one good look at himself in the mirror, the man wasted no time rushing out of his house before pushing off of the ground and rapidly flying off into the night.

Within a minute, the hero was able to rapidly traverse across several miles of farmland and make his way to the museum. As he quickly made a hero landing onto the concrete road outside of the museum, Superman made his way up to a group of officers to get an up-to-date report about what had occurred so far. According to the head officer in charge, the unknown criminal had accidentally tripped a security laser upon breaking into the museum. With the assistance of drones that could look through the glass atrium in the middle of the museum, the police were able to determine that the man was working alone yet heavily armed with an armored suit and a high-grade weapon. As such, a stand-off was afoot with the police attempting to convince the man to surrender and prevent anyone from getting hurt. Unfortunately though, these talks had quickly stalled and the criminal refused to surrender, instead deciding to further barricade himself deeper into the museum.

Given the tough situation that the police were in, Superman was quick to offer his services due to his skill set and innate bulletproof skin. Although there were a few officers there who gave him sneers and angrily told him off for “invading their turf”, the Smallville resident tried his best to remain positive and cheerful in order to help bring another criminal to justice. Luckily, the chief in charge of the operation got his men in line and gave the superhero the go-ahead to help remedy the situation. After giving a slight nod in the chief’s direction, Superman levitated himself back into the air before flying up to the top of the several stories high museum.

Upon setting himself back onto stable ground, Superman quickly traversed across the museum’s metal roof until he approached the glass dome in the middle of the museum atrium. As he peered around, it didn’t take long before he saw the criminal walking around in the bulky armored suit. Not wanting to inform the man of his arrival though, Clark opted to quickly use his laser vision to cut out a portion of the window so he could slyly sneak through the hole to surprise the villain. Upon doing so and quietly setting the portion aside, the hero carefully squeezed his bulky and muscular physique through the cut-out section of the glass. Once he was through, the hero slowly levitated his way down to the ground floor and hid for a moment to conjure up a game plan.

As he quickly looked around, Clark decided to sneak attack the man with a high-speed collision to hopefully disarm him and destroy his suit so he could be easily apprehended and delivered to the police. Narrowing his eyes and taking a moment to prepare himself, the man then wasted no time as he flew at top speed and his body crashed through the long aisles of museum displays. Before the criminal could even turn to look at the source of the noise, the hero’s extended arms immediately collided with the metal suit and easily pushed him against the wall. But given Superman’s extreme strength, that wasn’t all as the force of his movement caused the duo to crash through the concrete wall before Clark gripped onto the collar of the suit and threw the man to the ground.

While the confused criminal grimaced and groaned from the impact, Clark wasted no time tugging off the suit piece by piece until the villain was left in nothing but his normal clothing. Upon peering down to examine the culprit behind the robbery though, Clark found himself shocked to see that the man’s appearance was quite unusual. Most of the villains he faced were these imposing figures who had bodies that were packed to the brim with a musculature that could rival Superman’s own physique. But looking down, Clark instead found a man who had no sort of muscle definition or impressive physical features.

Taking a look at the man’s overall physique, Clark was baffled to find that the criminal was stuck with fragile-looking arms and legs that seemed to indicate that he would be tired from even a simple jog down a street block. The man seemed young, yet with his high hairline and partial balding, Clark presumed that the man was in his mid to late 30s. To make matters worse for the man, the criminal’s pale white face and body was also ravaged with a vast array of scarring and tattoos that caused Clark to surmise that he was some sort of low-level gang member. Despite the gang affiliation though, it seemed like the poor man had been unable to pack on any muscle and was instead treated like a punching bag and guinea pig by the higher-level members based on the intense scarring that resembled knife cuts.

As the man began to stir back into consciousness, Clark opted to try and take a more gentle approach with the criminal. Clearly the man posed no physical threat to him, so he tried to be as delicate as possible upon extending a hand towards the man and quickly pulling him up to his feet. With the man looking around in pure horror as he saw his unsuited self and Superman’s imposing body, Clark tried his best to calm the man’s nerves and indicate that he had no desire to hurt him further.

“Hey, don’t worry, no more fighting needs to happen tonight. Given the threat level of that suit you were wearing, I just had to disarm you as fast as I could and figure out who was operating it,” he calmly said, looking down at the frail individual and trying his best to give a reassuring smile. “So, what’s your name?” Clark inquired, trying his best to form a connection to the criminal. In many ways, the frail and anxious man reminded Clark of his own son Jordan. Clark’s relationship with Jordan was currently strained at the moment, so the superhero father felt a strange desire to view the criminal as a stand-in for his son and thus try and be a positive influence to help the man change his life and be the best version of himself he could possibly be. If he was able to successfully do this for the criminal, Clark was hopeful that he could replicate the same thing with Jordan and fully reconnect so they could be as close as they once were.

Although the criminal remained tense and quite uncomfortable being in the hero’s presence, he eventually decided to answer Superman’s inquiry. “It’s Darren,” he said, a thick midwestern accent coming from his throat.

“Gotcha, well it’s nice to meet you then Darren. I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances, but alas here we are,” Clark said, finishing his sentence with a heavy sigh. “Your plan though, it’s over now Darren. I don’t know what you were trying to do here tonight, but let’s just end this now so no one has to get hurt in the process. Alright?”

After silently nodding his head in agreement, Darren shifted his head down in apparent shame as he slowly began to make his way back into the main atrium of the museum. As he passed through the large hole into the concrete wall though, the criminal opted to continue speaking once more. “I was just trying to get some quick cash to help pay for my mom’s hospital bills. She’s not doing good and I don’t have the money to keep paying for her tests,” he solemnly said, causing Clark behind him to frown in sadness.

Despite his innate desire to bring criminals to justice, Clark couldn’t help but feel severe empathy for the man. It seemed as though all avenues of Darren’s life led to disappointment and struggle, so it was no wonder why the man had no other option to resort to a life of crime! As such, Clark’s warm heart left him eager to try and help fix one aspect of Darren’s hard life.

“You know, I actually know some people who work at Metropolis General Hospital,” he began, tilting his head and looking down towards the captured criminal with a light smile. “If you wanted, I could definitely pull some strings and help get some of your mother’s tests covered for fr-” he continued, the words unexpectedly being interrupted as a sudden impact into Clark’s gut caused him to stop speaking. As he watched Darren pull his elbow back up away from his stomach, Clark’s eyes widened. The man had truly just said anything so he could get Clark’s defenses down and try to make an escape!

Watching as the man quickly fled on foot through the museum, Clark’s eyes began to rapidly redden due to the intense rage he felt about being tricked. Although he felt no pain from the impact due to his general invincibility, he couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about being so easily fooled. But rather than allowing his laser vision to come out in full force and quickly stop Darren in his tracks, Clark mentally pulled back due to the fear of accidentally killing the man. Instead, he stood back up onto his feet, dusted off his dusty shoulders, and pushed off the ground to begin flying towards the still-sprinting criminal.

Given his rapid speed, it didn’t take long before Superman was catching up to Darren. To be fair though, the task was fairly easy for Superman as Darren’s frantic clumsiness had caused him to stumble over the tipped over display cases and trip over the various artifacts that those cases had once held. As he extended his arms out in hopes of quickly capturing the man now lying on the ground, Clark was eager to get the standoff over with so he could return back to his family before they finished dinner. While he thought about what he was going to do once he was back home on his farm, the man was unaware of Darren’s quick motion towards grabbing a hefty rock that had been held in one of the cases. In fact, he only ever picked up on this face as Darren turned towards to face Clark and immediately slammed the superhero in the side of the head with the artifact.

As a momentary pain rushed through Clark’s head, he quickly moved back to an upright position and stood back onto the ground so he was directly above the criminal who was still lying on the ground. However, as he waited for the pain to fade away, the hero was quickly overcome by a severe tingling sensation throughout his entire body. With this sensation rushing through his body, the man’s many years of crime-fighting and battles with intergalactic foes came back to the forefront of his mind. Bizarrely, the feeling felt both familiar yet incredibly foreign at the same time.

So as Clark directed his attention back to the criminal, his eyes quickly began to widen as he saw what had become of the artifact that had hit him. Instead of the blunt and gray rock that he had felt smashed against his face, it appeared as though his angular jawline had actually caused parts of the rock to crumble! By doing so, it appeared that a special Kryptonian artifact had revealed itself to be hidden within the rock - a small piece of red kryptonite!

Immediately, the tingling sensation that he felt began to make sense. Although he hadn’t ever experienced the effects of red kryptonite for himself, his extensive research about his home planet caused him to immediately recall some basic information about the rock type. The rock itself had a wide array of effects on Kryptonians according to his own research, but all of the examples Clark had read made it abundantly clear that this was a terrible type to encounter. As such, the man tried his best to reason with the criminal and get him to set the rock down.

“Hey, you got a good lick in there huh,” Clark inquired with a chuckle, rubbing his temple where the rock had made an impact as he returned back to standing on the ground. “Now let’s not do anything stupid here Darren. That rock isn’t safe for me, and by default, that means it’s not safe for you as well. So just toss it aside and I’ll forget all about this little outburst of yours!”

However, the criminal refused to agree to those terms, instead rushing directly towards Superman with a deranged and enraged expression on his face. Preparing to just stand tall and immediately disarm the man, Clark angrily scowled while putting his hands on his hips. Watching as the man gripped the rock in his right hand, Clark waited for the man to be in close enough proximity for him to hit him and cause him to drop the rock. With him now only a foot away, Clark immediately jumped into action as he lifted up his arm and immediately brought it down on Darren’s outstretched right arm. As expected, Clark breathed a sigh of relief as the rock quickly slipped out of his grasp and began to fall towards the floor. Unfortunately though, Darren apparently had quick reflexes, as he was able to reach out his left hand and quickly capture the kryptonite once more. Before Clark could fully comprehend the swapping between hands, the superhero suddenly felt the pressure of the rock make an impact against his broad chest.

Understandably, Superman feared the wild card nature of the rock’s power and thus instinctively pushed out his arms in order to make contact with Darren’s torso and send him flying away from him. However, as the motion was completed, both men were suddenly overcome with a dizzying sensation that rendered them momentarily with a full-body numbness and an inability to see. As both of these things made their return to Clark though, the man was suddenly shocked as an intense full-body pain coursed through his body as his back suddenly made impact against a concrete wall.

Grimacing as he slid down the museum’s wall, Clark let out a deep groan after his crumpled body made an impact onto the glass-covered floor. As he gingerly tried to sit himself back up, the sudden sounds of a deep bellowing gasp and chuckle caused Clark to grow alarmed. Peeling open his eyelids to finally take a look around the destroyed museum once more, Clark directed his attention towards the source of the noise. Upon doing so though, the superhero was immediately shocked to find himself somehow staring at his own smiling body!

Looking down in an extreme mix of confusion and fear, Clark gasped in shock as he looked down and now found himself looking at Darren’s own frail, pale, and scarred body. “Wha- how did this happen,” he cried out, notably triggered by the thick and surprisingly deep Midwestern accent coming out of his mouth. “That damn kryptonite, it must have swapped our bodies Darren!” Upon turning towards the imposter inside his body though, Clark immediately shivered in fear as that alarmingly wide smile remained stuck on his former face. Watching as the imposter cockily swaggered towards him, the superhero was shocked as the real Darren began to speak once more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about buddy, I’m Superman!”

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#male transformation #body swap #stories involving superheroes #superhero #superman #hero x villain swap

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lilacxquartz · 5 months ago

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Don't Make Me Feel Alive I Chapter 9

kenjaku x f!reader

chapter summary: with satoru gojo sealed, you try to remove yourself from your involvement, however he stops you and actually shows you what he can be capable of.

warnings: violence

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

Chapter 9: Danger

Stumbling off to the bathroom, the toilets casted an oddly dim, yet warm light in comparison to the rest of the station, leaving you to wonder if this was an isolated fault or if it was just how it was. Considering that his whole plan left the city in a state of crisis, you figured that it was the latter. In a way, the dark provided comfort.

Desperate to distract yourself while plotting away at the same time, you locked yourself into an adjacent stall, swivelling the lock shut in a flash. You screwed your eyes shut as you pulled at your hair, doing your best to force that image out of your head but it was already burned into your memory.

But that much was too late already.

You thought initially that maybe it could have been something similar to the case of that kid who ate one of the cursed fingers, an incarnation appearing in the body was a vessel instead, but somehow this sort of reality felt bleaker, leaving you feeling uneasy with his very existence.

Another point—if that was how his brain looked like now, with all of those teeth in tow, then just how long has he been around really?

You didn’t want to think about it too much though, not unless you truly wanted to drive yourself mad. In an attempt to ground yourself, you leaned forward while sitting on the toilet seat, attempting to get up and try to escape, while you still had time. Instead, you anchored to your knees, turning to flip the lid, coughing up the contents of your stomach as the nausea came back to hit you once again.

Stumbling out of the stall, you attempted to clean yourself up and dragged your eyes around the bathroom, finding that there was not a single window to crawl out from. You supposed that much made sense given that you were technically underground but it still felt insulting to realise.

Splashing water on your face a final time, you hastily exited the toilets and headed towards the opposite direction that you arrived from and thinking that you were in the clear, you hurried your pace, only to feel a firm hand clamp against your shoulder, shooting down to your wrist and pulling you back into a sickeningly familiar hold.

Hot breath rolled down your neck as you heard him whisper something right into your ear, leaving you recoiling with a deep sense of unease, “You know, if you really want to go outside and get torn apart by whatever is crawling around on the surface, you can be my guest,” he pulled you even closer, his lips pressed right against you, “or, you could stay down here with me, right where you are. I’ll keep you safe, but you have to let me do that and not wander off.”

“I’ll stay-“ you gasped within a flash, taking heed of his threatening tone.

“—good, because that’s the correct choice,” he said, cutting you off before you could finish your sentence, letting go of your wrist and allowing you to take a step back.

Your freedom seemed to be an illusion though. Or at the very least shortly lived as he then spung you over to face him, pushing you back against the subway wall. Your back absorbed the hit and you grunted, feeling your breath catch as you failed to adjust to the pressure he applied against your body.

In an attempt to push him back, you found that you couldn’t. He simply did not budge at all and kept pushing you hard against the concrete to the point that it felt like your bones were about to crumble—about to cave in from an almost crushing display of strength at his hand.

He didn’t stop though, seeming to find the humour in the situation at hand (or perhaps, not at all, because if he was being honest, he had been too lenient on you), finding it almost peculiar that you didn’t seem to take his threats seriously at all, “Oh…? In pain are you? I know this hurts you, but what if I were to go even further?”

You couldn’t reply; it felt as though your voice got torn out from your throat.

He kept you secured while slowly pushing you back, keeping up the unwavering pressure for as long as you could take it, “Oh and, try not to struggle, at least not too much,” he whispered, his head dropping forward, his lips pressed against your forehead, “this is your fault, not mine.”

“F-fine, it’s my fault…” you gasped, “c-can you take a step ba-“

“—if only you did what you were told, then you wouldn’t be in this situation at all,” Kenjaku continued to seethe, “of course you couldn’t keep up with something so simple, though. Maybe that one is on me, since I should have known better by now.”

“It’s my fault,” you repeated.

He backed off for now, his smile falling flat on his face while his eyes adopted a look that practically drowned in contempt. It wasn’t too often that you got to see him so serious and it was unnerving when he did so, because how exactly were you supposed to react when he looked at you with those eyes? So devoid of care, watching you still back away into the wall despite your freedom, desperate to breathe again as you recovered from the damage he inflicted.

How were you supposed to exist around him at all, knowing that there hasn’t been a single day at his side where he had left you alone? In an attempt to step to the side, he stopped you—grabbing you by the collar of your top, throwing you hard across the tiled floor like a rag doll—your teeth gritting as you tanked such a powerful blow, blood smearing the floor as scarlet tracks formed, shaking with dreading anticipating as he slowly walked forward, crouching at your side.

How were you supposed to do anything at all…?

You attempted to back away but he held onto you once more, wrapping his fingers around your throat and squeezed the life out of you, but not just yet. Keeping you just barely holding on, because that’s what he allowed. His eyes continued to stare you down with disdain and the tone in his voice remained still so very cold.

“You’re lucky though, that I..,” he spoke, squeezing at your throat as he did so, laughing a little at just how ridiculous this whole thing really was, “that I even lo… like you, you ungrateful idiot… because if I didn’t, then you would have been dead the first time you tried something as foolish as this.”

Trying to speak against his choking hand, he loosened his grip just a little to allow your words to come out, “Maybe you should have followed through the first time, then I could have been peacefully dead instead. Away from someone like you.”

“Ah, is this what this whole thing is about?” he laughed, “I’m sorry if I somehow deluded you into thinking I had been a saint. No, I believe I was being quite clear when I gave you the opportunity to live again. Call it a deal with the devil of sorts, I’m sure you probably see me the very same, but, I never lied about who I was.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you continued to say.

“Oh, is that so?” he snorted, his mood suddenly becoming playful again—the fire returning to his eyes as something kindled within. He wanted to mess with you forever if he could, but before that, he needed to teach you a lesson or else you would never learn.

You nodded at his question.

His hands then tightened, his words taking on a mocking edge, “Your life isn’t up to you anymore though. So whether you were to live or die, that’s not a decision for you to decide for yourself and as it turns out, you still do have some use left in you.”

“I can still probably just kill mys-”

“—oh that’s a good one, [name],” Kenjaku promptly interrupted you, his smile widening into a toothy grin, seeming almost manic—unhinged, even, “let me just ask you though, do you really think that death would be the end for you?”

You stared at him with a confused gaze, your brows furrowing in response, “What do you mean?”

He hummed in amusement, seemingly quite enjoying himself, “Oh, you know. I wouldn’t let you do that, for one, but I could kill you instead if you’d like? I’d take it slowly, just for you. So many deaths that I’ve caused all happened in the blink of an eye but for someone so special, maybe I could make an exception. I’d take my sweet time, dragging it on until your senses fail you. Maybe I’d save you in the last second though just so that I could do it all over again.”

“You wouldn’t waste your time on that,” you replied, attempting to call his bluff.

“And who said it would be a waste?” he said, retaining that same sort of feral smile, “I could do anything to you. That’s my given right as someone who owns your life. Even so, death wouldn’t be the end of it for you. Tell me, do you know what my vessel’s cursed technique is?”

You shook your head, somehow he never told you. He told you the other two. There was gravity and then there was his ability to transfer vessels. Was there something more?

“My vessel had a particularly unique cursed technique,” he began, “being able to take in cursed spirits through a process called uzumaki and keep them in a collection of sorts. Now, let’s consider the possibility of corrupting your soul with cursed energy as you die. What would that turn you into?”

“…A vengeful spirit?” you dared entertain.

“Good job!” he praised with a mocking edge, letting go of your neck but still keeping you close. “Now, it hasn’t been tested whether uzumaki could let me absorb a vengeful spirit or not, but if you want to die as a volunteer and let me find that out, then I wouldn’t say no either.”

“Is that… possible?” you asked, momentarily confused.

“That’s the fun part! I have no idea,” he smiled, “but wouldn’t you love to find out? Hell, I’d bet you that you would be a hundred times more useful as an absorbed vengeful spirit than you are now. Full capabilities and techniques, not a single thing dragging you down.”

You sighed, feeling a bit worse for wear than before. You didn’t like the implication that you couldn’t die without potentially being brought back as something else or that it didn’t seem to be an option at all.

How incredible in a way that after wanting to live so desperately for so long, that you now longed for an end instead.

Kenjaku then backed away from you, finally calming down just a little. He seldom lost control, maintaining his cool for centuries on end and then you came along.

“But I won’t go that far just yet,” he assured you, running the back of his hand down your cheek, “I’ve been giving you so many chances, I’ll admit it. Of course you don’t think my threats mean a single thing, but, worry not, I’ll remind you physically, painfully now. My words weren’t working before, so this one’s on you.”

You recovered your breath again, feeling something electric thrumming in your body but the symptom (nor cause) was visible just yet.

Continuing, he took a deep breath, calming him down for your sake, just like he had done for everything else. If only you could understand what a compliment that was though, “You won’t mess things up for me again will you?”

You gulped, shaking your head as he finally succeeded in silencing you—rendering you as pitifully dormant and docile from before. He didn’t honestly mind having to remind you however many times he had to do so, finding that he actually enjoyed instilling fear into your eyes; gradually retiring all the remaining hope you had left.

“Good,” he added again, “because you belong to me, whether you like it or not.”

Finally calming down, he let you go as his eyes scanned over your body, seeking out to settle and soothe any injuries caused by his own infliction, determining that while your body did take a hit—maybe more so than he had intended for you to do so, that you were otherwise fine and the pendant would at least keep you running for however long it could.

But then just as you hesitantly followed him up, the battery jittered and sent a jolt pulsating through your body causing your condition to seemingly worsen, sending you down to the ground against your will.

Kenjaku paused, misinterpreting your actions as the fault of potential injuries as the cause of why you were unable to continue, figuring that since everything else was already underway and happening just as planned, that he could spare a few moments to get you running again.

Sitting himself back down with you on the ground to aid in your recovery, he made an internal commitment with himself that no matter what, this particular moment between you and him would remain private.

So regardless of who passed you both by.

Be it friend or foe.

He would simply dispose of them with no questions asked.

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fixdex-fastening-technology · 6 months ago

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scribble-dribble-writes · 1 year ago

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Plastic Hearts - (13)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

Sometimes you have to choose love.

---

He was upset as he turned away from you and it plummeted you into the depths of anxiety. All that free flight that you were enjoying, died, like the wind stopped blowing your way.

“I need you to come with me.”, he said, knowing well that it had the real possibility of killing whatever it was that was growing between you both. But as he took your hand, he was certain of one thing. He could sacrifice being with you but he could not stand by and watch as he lost you again.

“Ok.”, you said as you fetched your bag and turned off the lights. All this could be cleared later, the worry in his eyes were so palpable that you began to wonder what the issue was.

“Is everything alright?”, you asked as you got up, his distant eyes found yours and brought him back to the moment.

“Yeah.”, he said it but it wasn’t believable and he knew how that could have scared you.

“I had a lovely night.”, he drew closer, to cover you with his leather jacket, to give your hand a gentle squeeze as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He didn’t want that truth to be lost in everything he was about to say.

Actually, as he felt your hand in his and with the sudden awareness setting in, that danger was imminent to this world around him, it began to scare him all the more.

Was he going to have to give you up too?

But he put on a smile and began to head back to his apartment. He had to show you the doomsday meter and tell you about the skates. So he set his mind to it, if he thought about the various other outcomes, he was never going to have the courage to do it.

He walked beside you and held your hand as though it was an anchor, that the gesture was meant more for him, while you were trying to figure out what had spooked him.

Maybe it was you.

Maybe it was something else.

You focused on the concrete in the pavement to stop the nervous thinking from eating you away. His jacket feeling like an extension of him trying it’s best to help you retain your calm.

You got into the elevator that was wide enough to fit two people. He pressed the button to his floor and the doors closed. He was on the tenth floor, but you couldn’t put a handle on the worry you felt.

Was he going to leave?

As he stood there in front of you, watching the numbers change on the dial, you wanted to step forth and loop your arms around him. To hug him like before but instead you just wanted to stay there, in the hopes he might stay longer too.

But the dial chimed and the doors opened, he held out his hand for you to walk out first as he followed you, the sound of keys jiggling in his hand as though it was an ode to the tension in the air. He came to a stop before his unit and unlocked the door.

He went ahead to turn on the lights but somehow seeing him move around in a domestic space was amping the stress all the more, because with every second that passed you were falling in love again and you were scared he wasn’t.

His home was different to what you had thought, it had a lot of horse related artefacts but it was enhanced well with good interior design. The windows from his living room had a wonderful view of the neighborhood. His space had a lot of scented candles that made it smell like a mix of cinnamon and leather.

“I hope you don’t mind the mess.”, he put away his shoes as he waved his hand around even when there was no mess to be found.

“I had to relearn the aspects of housekeeping.”, he chuckled as he made you feel comfortable, asking if you wanted to put away his jacket but you held onto it.

He popped open the double door fridge to get you a drink as he helped himself to a soda too.

You took a seat on the sofa with the cold soda can giving you hope that what it was he wanted to say could not be as catastrophic as you were thinking. But he sat across you instead of by your side and that smile of his was no where to be found. He took a quick sip before he turned to you.

“The skates that brought you here.”, he began and you could feel cold needles of ice pierce through your heart.

“How do you know –

“Brie, those were doomsday skates.”, he continued as though he needed to get this off his chest.

“It's slowly destroying Barbie land and along with it the imagination of all the girls and women on this planet.”, he narrated and your gradual onset of sleepless nights and the lack of dreams fell into place.

“You need to get those skates back to Barbie land as soon as possible, if you wish to save it.”, he held his hands together as his eyes grew distant again.

"If I wish?", you questioned. The news was a shell shock. Your selfish desire has caused the worst disaster.

"What happens if it don’t?", you leaned forward, trying to keep panic at bay

"It fades away forever, erased from history.", he continued.

"No, what happens to you?", you stopped him to ask more precise details.

"I disappear along with it.", he shrugged his shoulders as though he had made peace with the concept.

The panic you wished to keep away flooded your system.

"Without Barbie land, I don’t exist.", he found your eyes, his blue waning to a grey almost as if he believed it.

"But you can.", he said with a fervent tone.

"The skates grant you one wish.", he took another sip and sat back.

"You can choose to be human and start a new life.", he said it to you as though he was relaying new strategy.

"How can you say that?", you grew angry but the sadness was causing tears to flood your eyes.

"I’m just being realistic.", he met your steely gaze with resistance of his own

"About what?", you sniffled throwing your hands around in frustration.

"About how you have a life here.", he said it seriously.

"And you don’t?", you reached out to him but he got up to pace around.

"Brie, I was sent to get you.", He placed the cold can on the side of his forehead to ease the stress.

"That was all this was?", you asked in shock. Unable to believe you had become a fool yet again.

"God, no.", he furrowed his brows.

"No.", he said more calmly.

"I fell in love with the version I was here.", he replied.

"My job, my home and my car.", he had a small smile on his lips.

"The kids, the school ...", He paused his steps but didn't look at you.

"You.", he said softly before he resumed to his walk.

"I want to be here.", he said like it was his dream.

"But I can’t.", the melancholy in his voice was breaking you down.

"I'm not of this place.", he shook his head as he stared out the window.

"That doesn’t make sense.", you challenged his argument and his logic.

"The tunnel plays you an advertisement.", he stated and you could understand where all these thoughts were coming from.

"That garbage.", you began to push it away but he shook his head.

"No, Brie.", he caught your attention again.

"I didn’t have one. Just a line, stating if a Barbie chooses to exist then a Ken can.", he found your eyes for a second before looking away defeated.

"So without a Barbie back in Barbie land, I’m a goner anyway.", he downed the contents of his can and chucked it in a Bin with a frustration. Because it wasn't fair.

"I will fade away all the same.", he pursed his lips

"And I know.", he glanced back at you. The very sight of you giving him a few extra minutes in life.

"You love it here.", he smiled.

"Do you now?", you answered with sarcasm because how was he to know how it actually was.

"Yeah, Brie. That glow from within you. That’s something Barbieland could never give you.", he pointed his hand at you, his eyes glimmering as he drew closer to you.

"No that's became of you, Ken.", you held his gaze as you said it.

"With you, I feel like the sun. For five years, I lived a life of hopelessness. Struggling to find worth in my work, to discover myself when I’ve been so blind. That the best version of me is the version that exists now.", you explained the truth behind why you truly felt alive.

"Then you take my world by storm only to take it away again?", you couldn't look at him anymore as it stung you.

"You can’t do that to me.", you shook your head.

"What do you want me to do?", he raised his voice in anger, out of hopelessness because this was a dead end. He wasn't the hero of this story. Getting a good ending wasn't in his hands.

"I lose you all the same. All I have are seconds with you when I want it all. Brie, I won’t force you to come back. I know what it’s like to have found an identity to then lose it.", he shook his head with vehemence.

"So this is it?", you looked at him, utterly broken.

"I guess so.", he said it half heartedly.

"So these past few days have all been a lie?", you couldn't believe it, you didn't want to believe it. Not when it felt so true and real.

But He found your gaze and eyes flicked like blue flame.

"No. I craved the real thing, Brie. I had fallen in love with you the moment I knew I had lost you. And for the next five years, I hated myself for not choosing you sooner. I spent every day and night scourging the streets of this city in search of you.", he held on to the sides of the kitchen island because he needed the strength to say the next few words

"Because I love you Brie. That’s all there is to it. I love you. I have loved you and I will continue to. But the choice to save Barbieland is in your hands. And only you can determine if it was worth saving.", he said it as though that was the most purest form of truth he had ever held.

"If I’m worth saving.", you heard him and his eyes pierced your soul.

He wiped out a watch that had a meter on it and placed it in front of him. The needle now at the start of the red zone, it was true.

But it was all too much, all at once, the heavy decision to save Barbieland, to leave this life behind and go back all while getting know that he had loved you all this while.

You needed some time away, cause if you continued to sit here you were going to be sick.

So as he stood by the kitchen, bracing himself, you put away his coat and took your purse. You walked past him, unable to look him in the eye cause if you did you were going to breakdown. He didn't try to stop you and somehow that made it all the more worse.

You walked away and stomped down the corridor, upset and angry, pressing the elevator button to call it to the floor you were in. But the truth of his words sunk in. That you stood to lose him forever this time.

To continue to live in a world that will never have a trace of him.

The elevator chimed it's arrival but you turned away from it. You ran down the corridor, this time, you weren’t going to run away. That here you could own up to your feelings, that you could have everything you wished for. So you didn’t have to chose between yourself and love. You could have both.

You stood in front of his door, you held your fist up to knock but the door opened on his own.

He had his jacket on halfway as though he was coming to chase after you. His eyes widened with surprise as you stood there.

---

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#barbie movie 2023 #barbie movie #ken barbie #barbie #ken carson #ken x y/n #ken x you #ken x reader #ryan gosling ken #ryan gosling #ken fic #ken fluff

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floatingbook · 8 months ago

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I took a train out to the city. I shared the ride with a young woman attending the same school where I spent my early twenties. She was working; we exchanged polite niceties; we sat in contemplative companionship; I know her name. I asked the receptionist about her favourite food places, and she gushed about all manners of nooks and crannies. I walked around the peninsula. An old woman asked me for directions, and as a tourist myself I took out my map and we pored over the folded paper. On an anchored barge I discussed the best growth practice for rosemary with a woman doing her weekly gardening. On one of the bridges a kind woman took a picture so I could send proof of life to my mother. Deep in the old city, I bought a handmade brooch from a lovely artisan who painstakingly personnalised it for me. For near an hour I discussed work ethics, our education system and the need for concrete hobbies with a brocanteuse whom I reminded of her daughter, living far away. On a terrasse in the warmth of the recently fallen night, I exchanged tips for the best grocery shops when one wants to attempt foreign dishes. All in a day. If you step out into the world, there are countless women, with their own rich experiences and perceptions, ready to welcome you.

#so many interesting conversations #truly what i treasured the most out of that whole outing

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oneshotnewbie · 2 years ago

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Olivia benson x reader where the reader is Olivia’s daughter and a perp runs into her during the chase and hurts the reader and Olivia catches the perp and then mother daughter fluff

Authors note: It's pretty short but I just don't have the time or motivation to write right now. I hope you still like it, even if it doesn't correspond to the extent that you know from me ♥

...

"Idiot, watch where you are going!" you yelled in the direction where the man next to you landed face down onto the street. He fell to his knees in front, not bringing his hand forward in time to steady himself and smacked face first onto the sidewalk. Something cracked, his glasses or his nose- probably both.

Your elbow suddenly turned into the sensation of lightning and fiery pain and you placed it in the palm of your hand. Out of frustration and flooded with throbbing pain in your entire upper arm, the heel of your boot intentionally dug into the side of his thigh and let him groan out in pain.

His head dragged on the floor, trying to protect his face from the small stones scraping the skin like sandpaper. A piece of his broken glasses got caught in the ground and cut his face in his movement. The dripping blood out of his deep laceration on his cheek, intensified that angry, devilish smirk that he threw at you.

His long brown hair, which was sticking out in all directions after your collision, almost made his eyes disappear. Your gaze traveled further down his body and got stuck on his hands. Within them, he held something that had a razor-sharp blade and reflected the sun´s rays.

The knife lay at your feet and the movement of his hand scraped the rough concrete with a metallic sound. Fearful, you backed up slowly trying to gain some space between the two of you and swallowed hard as you watched him hesitate. Instead of lunging at you, he looked around, apparently trying to get away from someone.

Not five seconds later, you felt and heard more noises behind you; rough and loud footsteps rushing towards you at a rapid pace, creaking on the concrete floor, mingling with hounded voices; voices of people you knew.

Sergeant Finn Tutola, your mother´s best friend, bent down in front of you and briefly jolted you out of your thoughts. "Y/n, what are you doing here?" he asked in surprise and grabbed the man´s feet before pulling him off the sidewalk away from you and onto the street. Pistol holstered, his hands gripped the suspect´s upper arm and twisted him onto his back before pulling him up.

"Just catching a little break. There are not enough benches in the area so I figured why not just sit out here?" the dark-haired shakes his head with laughter at your sarcasm and reached out a hand to pull you up from the cold ground. Thanking, you clasped his hands in your non-painful one and jumped up.

Around the corner of the street on which you were now standing across from each other, another figure ran towards you and you could already see from afar that it was your mother who came to support her best friend. The brunette dogged her heels into the gravel when she realized her sergeant had everything in control, but gave you a questioning look, eyebrows furrowed as she jogged the last few meters standing between you.

"Hey mom"

"Your daughter caught this one" he thrust his arm forward, which he had anchored around the young man´s handcuffed wrist, and nudged the suspect a little to add more emphasis to his sentence. Proudly, he smiles at you softly. "Now off to the police station with you. You have a lot to explain"

Olivia stood at your side and tucked a strand of hair, that had become tangled on your face from the gentle breeze, behind your ear. "What happened?" she asked worried as she stepped closer to you. You looked like you were in pain and judging by your jacket, it had suffered too. Her hand tentatively rested on one of your shoulders and ran down the leather of your jacket until she came to a larger cut that parted the material.

"What a crap," you scolded under your breath and looked at the place where you felt her fingers on your skin; stirring over the split leather. "Your suspect knocked me to the ground because the idiot did not see me"

You grimaced in pain as you braced your elbow in your hand again. Your mother was shocked at first- she did not tolerate any missteps when it came to you and you knew instantly, that the young man will later face an short-tempered woman who would make his life hell in the interrogation room.

The brunette quickly but carefully began to slide your jacket off your shoulders, exposing your slowly discolored skin. She gasped when she saw the blue color running from your elbow to the middle of your forearm. With every step that she tried to move your arm to get a closer look, your body tensed in front of her.

Olivia kept glancing at your face, worry creeping into her serious expression. "Ouch!" you gasped and gritted your teeth hard. The brunette worked quickly, not wanting to prolong your pain any further. "A doctor needs to look at that. Come on, let´s get you to the hospital"

Carefully, she placed a hand on your shoulder and pulled you closer to her; her lips gently drawing three small kisses into your hair while one of her hands supported your elbow. "Mh.." you closed your eyes and unconsciously leaned onto her.

She grinned at the way you were when you were hurt. You have always been someone who enjoyed her warmth, cuddles and kisses and never put her off. If she did not know otherwise, she do say you could not have more love coming from you. But she always misjudged it; when you were sick or in pain, a little more of your dependence on her always came out.

But she did not complain. You were the greatest gift that life had to offer and could give you. With you, she was complete.

317 notes · View notes

deansdelicate · 3 months ago

Text

I CAN SEE YOU

CHAPTER IV: WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

seth rollins x fem!writer+producer reader

word count: [8K]

warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing, reader mentions a panic attack (but doesn't actually have one), two idiots pining w/o even knowing it kinda? overprotective sethie, overall fluff!

🎧 the soundtrack

summary: In the midst of chaos, you find yourself naturally drawn to Seth, who is nothing short of a steady anchor in the storm. With each unexpected turn, your bond deepens, and so does Seth’s protectiveness over you. While others might not have gone to the same lengths, Seth’s focus never strays—it’s always you, and nothing else.

Your heels clacked against the polished concrete floors, the twists and turns of the arena causing you to stumble over your feet a bit, though it didn’t stop you from the dash attempting to hideaway from another stage hand set out to find you.

You didn’t mind lending a helping hand and getting the house show prepped for the night after your dad had to bail and take a last-minute flight back home, but nothing could have prepared you for the absolute ambush of people expecting you to know everything.

You did all that you knew off the top of your head: pointing the crew to where they could set up crates and carts, helping set up the titatrons and cameras, and even going over the match card for the night. But you weren’t cut out for whole shebang of stage hands who needed details on each and every single task—most, if not all of them, ones you weren’t acquainted with considering your job wasn’t even running the show.

They were practically all around, and you were confident that they were going to find you one way or another. But you’d at least try your best to avoid them for as long as you could and you thought the bathroom would be just the place.

You pushed the door open, falling against it and swiftly shutting it behind you. You pressed against the wood, as if you were barricading yourself in, but really, you just needed a second to catch your breath and close your eyes—savouring the sweetness of peace and quiet.

“Breathe…” you whispered to yourself, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth, trying to ease the dread out of your body.

“You ok?” a voice suddenly reverberated in the empty bathroom, or so you thought.

“Oh, my god!” You screeched, snapping your eyes open, only to be face to face with Seth himself.

You hadn’t seen him around with your hands full all night, and while you wanted to be mortified that this was the circumstances it was under, the embarrassment didn’t even cross your mind. There were too many thoughts whirling through your head, and he certainly wasn’t the stressors you were trying to avoid by any means.

“Am I in the men’s bathroom?” You sputtered, pushing off the door in order to step further into the bathroom, expecting to see more stars, but thankfully it was just him.

“No, it’s unisex.” He assured, watching you trudge over to the sinks turning on the faucet to run your hands under the frigid water.

Seth pushed his brows together, staring at you concerned in the mirror’s reflection, “You look flustered, are you good?”

He noticed you were still trying to even your breathing while you splashed some of the water droplets over your neck, visibly trembling from head to toe. He knew something was up.

“My dad had to fly back to Stamford, and he left me to handle everything and now I’m stuck here dealing with things that I really have no clue about.” Your voice shook as you explained yourself.

You shut off the water, pressing your wet, cold fingertips against your forehead still trying to ease your buzzing nerves.

He hadn’t seen you in such a state, and you appeared to be a shell of yourself before his eyes. Even on your first day of work, you seemed to have some semblance of control over your nervousness, but today was another level of high-strung stress that plagued him, wondering how long you had been feeling this way until ultimately hiding out.

Surely people didn’t just expect you to know the ins and outs already?

You didn’t even give out orders the way your father did, and frankly your job was strictly in the creative realm. He couldn’t imagine what everyone else had been bothering you for that they didn’t already know how to handle considering their time with the company.

He didn’t have any time to spit out questions—whether you needed something to drink or to see the trainers for rest.

“Has anyone seen Ms. Levesque?” A voice rang out loud enough through the hallways getting closer to the bathroom.

Your eyes widened, spinning around and giving Seth a begging look.

“You haven’t seen me and I’m not here!” You whispered hurriedly, finding shelter in the furthest stall and locking the door shut.

He didn’t need any convincing, immediately getting into character as the door swung open and there stood a stage hand wearing a frantic look and letting themselves in without knocking.

“Is Ms. Levesque in here?” They urged, but before they could come closer and inspect the stalls for themselves, Seth stepped in front of them, blocking the path.

“Haven’t seen her at all today. It’s just me in here.” He spoke, playing it cool as the stage hand peered past him for a split second.

“Have you checked gorilla? It is almost doors and she could be there.” Seth added, eyes trailing down to the watch on their wrist and just like that the stage hand muttered out a ‘thank you’ under their breath before they left.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at how little it took to get them scurrying. “You can come out now.”

You released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, sliding the lock loose, causing the door to swing open.

“Thanks,” you sighed, exiting the stall, and meeting him near the sinks again.

“I think I’m seriously going to spiral if I hear one more person ask for me.” You confessed, running your hands through your hair stubbornly.

You could just feel the migraine starting to brew, and the last thing you needed was your head throbbing over circumstances out of your couldn’t control. Seth shook his head, his hand extending towards your arm and giving it an encouraging rub.

His touch brought forth a calming warmth over your shuddering body, desperately holding onto the feeling before his fingertips suddenly fell, leaving you aching again.

“I think you’re doing great, and I’m sure the girls wouldn’t mind you hiding out in the locker room. Stage hands almost never go in there for house shows.”

You perked up at the sound of that, tilting your head at him.

“Is it nearby?” You crossed your fingers, hoping it wasn’t on the other side of the arena where you’d surely be found by then.

“Yeah, it’s right next to ours.” He nodded.

“Okay, can you show me?” You smiled tightly, wanting to get out as soon as possible before another came in and blew your cover.

Seth nodded, holding a single finger up as he walked towards the door.

“Yeah, just give me a sec…” He peeked his head out, looking left and right making sure the coast was clear before, looking back at you and gesturing you over, “Come on.”

Seth’s arm slipped across your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side as you hung your head low hoping to not be spotted in the crowded hallways. You didn’t even have the time to think twice about the implications if you two did get caught in such a way—plus even if you did it was nothing they had to worry about when it was just friends helping each other out.

“Here you are,” Seth stopped in front of a door decorated with a plaque that read, “Female Talent” on it.

His arm fell back to his sides, as you pushed your hair out of your face, keeping your voice low as you whispered, “Thank you so much.”

“Come find me if you need another hiding spot.” He joked light heartedly, making you giggle with a nod before you waved goodbye and let yourself in.

Like he promised, the girls didn’t mind you at all.

It was more so surprising to them seeing that it was you of all people who walked through the doors, over apologetic for barging in out of nowhere.

But they immediately welcomed you with open arms, ushering you over to sit and hang out with them since they rarely got the opportunity to catch up with you being so busy.

You had confessed what led you to hiding out in their locker-room and they all immediately shook their heads, knowing damn well that most if not all stage hands weren’t new to the schedule, so them coming to you was just out of inconvenience.

Nattie was especially trouble, shaking her head disappointingly, "That's not right," She muttered, shooting her husband TJ a text message about what was going on.

You twisted your fingers in your lap nervously, hating that this is what you had to come to in order to get away.

“Maybe I’m just being dramatic, right? I just don’t understand what I’m supposed to tell them, when I don’t even know what’s going on too.” You sighed heavily.

You weren’t trying to act like an entitled brat, but you knew deep down that you did everything in your power to help everyone. There was only so much you could do without feeling like you were risking making a mistake and the blame falling on someone else.

“TJ has it handled. No need to worry.” She assured you, shoving her phone back into her bag, as you shot her a thankful smile for going out of her way to have your back.

“You don't know what that means to me,” you gratefully, reached over, hugging her tightly before pulling away. “I guess I should go now that the search is off.” You half laughed, going to get up and give the girls their space back.

But a hand quickly wrapped around your wrist and stopped you from doing so. It was Alexa, who shook her head along with the other ladies who looked excited to have you and wanted to spend more time together.

“Stay! You can help us get ready for the show!” She said eagerly, and you smiled at the thought, taking her up on the offer and deciding to stick around longer than you anticipated.

The smell of hairspray, and the heaps of makeup pallets cluttering the countertops took you back to the feeling of being at home again. It reminded you of your little sisters’, the random nights they’d spend at your apartment begging for silly makeovers, and even back in your childhood bedroom where your mom taught you how to do your own hair and makeup.

“How are you so fast?” Alexa gaped in the mirror astonished, most of her hair already curled despite you just starting minutes ago.

You laughed, sectioning off another part and wrapping her blonde locks around the barrel of the iron. “It helps when you have three little sisters who always want their hair done.”

She smiled. “How old are they?”

“Sixteen, thirteen and, ten.” You listed off with a huff, feeling incredibly old.

“They’re totally lucky to have you as a big sis.”

Truth be told, you were definitely the luckier one, seeing as though all three of them were extremely close to you despite their teenage ages, which was supposed to be where they wanted absolutely nothing to do with their older ‘uncool’ sister. But it was quite the opposite with them wanting to spend as much time with you, but especially not that you weren’t home as often as before.

It was one thing that almost caused you to turn down the offer of working with the company. As a kid, you grew up with your parents constantly traveling, and while they had the luxury of taking you with them, as you got older, the idea didn’t seem enticing and you just craved being home where you belonged.

And while you weren’t your sister's parent, you filled that role of being like one, and the last thing you wanted was for them to feel as if you were abandoning them. Thankfully, your schedule was flexible enough for you to go home every other weekend, and with more shows being put on in Connecticut, it was convenient to see them as much as you could.

“Oh, I have got to show you what I gifted her!” You said excitedly, finishing up the final curl before retrieving your phone and scrolling through your album.

“I showed Seth last week, and he thought it was pretty cool too.” You grinned to yourself, finally finding the picture and passing your phone around.

“God, I feel so old. I had one of those when I was like seven,” Nattie grumbled, seeing the vintage polaroid your sister was holding, causing you all to laugh.

“Speaking of him,” Naomi nudged your side teasingly with her elbow, “How do you like working with him?”

You smiled, biting down your lip with a shrug of your shoulders.

“He’s great, I mean, we work well together and we have a lot of chemistry, so it’s been smooth sailing so far.”

You couldn’t help but notice the impish expressions covering their faces. Liv smirked, passing your phone back to you.

“Do you think he’s cute?” She asked bluntly, causing your eyes to widen and a blush to break over your cheeks.

“Leave the poor girl alone!” Naomi chided, rolling her eyes at the girls who giggled harmlessly.

“What? It’s just a question. This is a judgement free zone.” Liv argued confidently, looking around at the girls who nodded—seriously, they all were like sisters, and nothing was ever off limits.

You tucked your cheek into your shoulder shyly, shrugging again, “He’s got a nice face alright...I’ll leave it at that!”

They all broke out into a girlish giggle, causing you to cover your face not out of embarrassment but for the sole fact that you actually said it out loud for the first time. You always thought Seth was cute—watching him for as long as you did over the course of your preparation coming onto the main roster, you always thought he had an appeal on screen and it was no different in real life.

So yeah, Seth Rollins had a pretty good-looking face, and you were quite lucky to work with him.

As the night progressed, time moved quickly with you busy and the anxious thoughts finally washed away. The girls who had matched had already made their way back to the locker room, getting showered and changed while you and the other ladies continued to chat.

“I’m so not looking forward to the drive tonight.” Alexa groaned, coming out from the attached bathrooms, changed into fresh clothing as she chucked her gear into her suitcase and zipped it up.

“Tell me about it, and tonight I’m riding with the hubs and his brothers.” Naomi sighed half heartedly, and they all laughed, knowing that driving with a bunch of guys was always the worst for multiple reasons.

Suddenly your eyes widened, the time spent with the girls causing you to lose track of everything else—including how you were getting to the next city. All the stress you had thought you fought off was coming back like cruel punishment testing if you were really meant to do this or not.

Your dad had taken off in such a haste, and it was a no brainer that he took the company plane, the same one you were supposed to get on at the end of the night to head to the next city. But that was before plans changed. There were no drivers on hand to take you to the next city, and the plane was certainly on the tarmac by now.

“Wait, where are we going next?”

You bit down nervously on your lip, grabbing your phone and trying to load the itinerary in your emails, hoping Eddie had sent you travel arrangements.

“Chicago.” They answered before your phone could load up your mail.

When the app finally loaded and refreshed, there was nothing from Eddie nor your dad about your mode of transportation to the next city. You were practically stranded and fucked.

“Shit.” You whispered, closing your eyes tightly and shaking your head.

“What’s the matter?” Liv frowned, looking over your shoulder.

You took a deep breath, trying to give your best smile while your mind raced with solutions.

“Nothing, I just have to go call Eddie. I totally forgot to ask him about something.” You waved off not wanting to worry them.

You stepped out of the locker room, pacing anxiously as you pulled up your messages between you and Eddie, shooting him a few. Much to your dismay the normal blue bubbles sent through as green, furthering your worries.

Sure, you could have easily went back in the locker room to ask one of the girls if it was okay to tag along with them to the next city, but you already felt bad for camping out in their locker room for the whole night and the last thing you wanted was them to feel suffocated by you.

Funnily enough, in the face of worry, your footsteps didn’t seem to second guess your mind, heading straight to the person you were hoping didn’t already leave the arena. The more you searched the hallways, the more helpless you became. The sliver of hope that he was still around fading with each second that passed knowing you’d have to quickly think up another solution, when you’re one and only was nowhere to be found.

But there he was—his back turned to you as he talked to a member of the production team about something you were too relieved to care about in the moment. He had his luggage and a few bags near his side and you knew you had caught him just in time, and you weren’t going to let it slip from you.

You hurried your footsteps, and unbeknownst to you, the familiar sounds of your heels rang through his ears, prompting him to turn his head over his shoulder mid conversation, spotting you making a beeline towards him.

He could read your face and the worry that covered it, the same one that you wore in the confines of the bathroom where you didn’t have to conceal it with a faux smile so the nearby eyes wouldn’t know something was wrong.

“Woah, hey, are you still dodging people?” Seth twisted his body completely, turning your way and forgetting the previous conversation all together, giving his attention to you.

You stopped right in front of him, rubbing at your temples and pinching your eyes shut, hoping you weren’t about to ask for too much from him.

“No, I actually was looking for you.” Your chest deflated with a heavy sigh that was reminiscent of the anguish you displayed earlier.

He straightened up at the sound of that, nodding his head ready to take on whatever you needed from him.

“How can I help?”

“I thought I had a flight to the next city, but since the plane left with my dad I’m sorta stranded, and I really don’t want to go book a flight and I can’t get ahold of Eddie so I was wondering if I’d be okay if I drove with you and Roman to the next city?”

You were nearly out of breath at how fast you were talking, trying to cut to the chase and not waste any more of his time than you already were.

“Of course,” He replied without any reluctance or a second to think if you should ask someone else instead—his quick response clearly stunned you, but you were indebted more than anything else.

“But it’ll just be you and me. Roman’s riding with his cousins and Naomi this time around.” He added, pointing behind you to where Roman and his cousins Jey and Jimmy were already starting to exit the arena.

Naomi was right behind them, rolling her things along. She caught you in her peripheral, causing her to turn to you, shooting you a teasing smile when she realized you were alone with Seth. You waved weakly, returning a small smile keeping your composure before you turned to him again.

“Yeah, that’s fine with me.” You smiled through a deep breath and he began to roll his luggage and bags out of the path.

“I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get my stuff really quick.” You gestured down the hall to where your office was.

“Take your time.” He assured you, not being able to help himself, chuckling and shaking his head, as you twirled around and did a quick jog in your heels not wanting to keep him waiting long.

You changed out of your skirt and top, tossing the pieces and your heels into your suitcase, and quickly grabbing a random baggy t-shirt and a pair of comfy sweatpants. You pulled mismatched socks over your feet, slipping them into your usual sneakers, hurriedly shutting the luggage and zipping it up.

You grabbed the packet of makeup wipes you kept in your purse, opening your phone camera to use as a mirror as you swiped the cloth over your face, letting your skin breathe. Tossing the wipes into the trash bin, you did a one over your office, making sure you had all your belongings, before turning off the lights and heading back to Seth.

Staying out of the path where stage hands and techs were clearing, he scrolled through his phone, waiting for you. And while he wasn’t one for divulging into social media comments, WWE’s recent post of your segment together had appeared on his feed, and many fans had lots to say.

‘Don’t know if this will end well for Seth, but how funny would it be if they actually got together in real life?”

One comment read, making him chuckle and shake his head—a thread of people agreeing or shunning the idea, like they had a say, anyway.

Another one wrote, ‘I can feel the tension through the screen,’ followed by an abundance of emojis that Seth wasn’t quite able to decode, but still made him laugh none the less.

At least he knew you both were doing something right if a single segment was already getting fans excited about what was to come. Whatever ‘tension’ fans saw meant that you two were doing exactly what you needed to do with your characters—it was all just part of the storyline.

“Sorry for the holdup.” Your soft voice shot down the empty halls, causing him to look up as you approached.

Mindlessly he slipped his phone into his pocket, trailing his eyes carefully over you—bare faced, hair pulled up, and the tiredness evident across your features and demeanor, yet you still managed to put on a smile thanking him endlessly for going out of his way.

“No holdup here,” He assured you, grabbing his things and rolling it beside him. “All good to go?” He wearily took note of all your baggage not wanting you forget anything important.

You nodded with a hum, “All packed up and ready.”

He led the way out to the parking garage where most of the superstars were already loading up their cars and preparing for the long trip ahead. Seth fidgeted with the car keys, sounding off the horn in order to find his rental that was almost identical to all the other SUVs around.

Recognizing the blinking tail lights and alarm sound, he subtly held his free arm out towards the small of your back, guiding you in its direction. You peered over at him as you walked, a little taken aback by the kind gesture—the way he wanted to keep you close felt almost comforting.

Only when you both made it to the car did his hand finally drop, allowing him to pop the trunk open while you stood there waiting to slide your things in. You stifled a small yawn behind your hands, rubbing your eyes lightly trying to shake off the fatigue until you got to the hotel. Seth slipped his backpack off, pushing it into the trunk, taking a quick glance at you and noticed your slowed movements.

Before you could even process what was happening, a soft click causing you to squint past your blurry vision, seeing Seth already lifting your suitcase and sliding it in.

“I got it. Go get comfy.” He offered thoughtfully, sliding the key fob into your palm, nodding at you to go ahead before continuing to load up the car.

You didn’t put a fight, giving him a nod as you hurried into the passenger side, placing your purse on the floor and leaning over the middle console in order to get the car running. Twisting the dials for the air conditioning and heat, you found a decent temperature that could keep you toasty yet cool at the same time.

The trunk closed shut behind you shortly after, and Seth had made his way around to the driver’s seat, getting in and placing his phone into one of the cup holders for easy access.

“Is it okay?” You hovered your hands in front of the vents, keeping your eyes on him.

His fingertips skimmed against yours, a pleased look on his face, glancing over at you.

“It’s fine for me. You aren’t too cold are you?” He rose his brow, feeling your hands slightly shaking next to his.

You weren’t particularly bundled up, and the night travel was always brisker, with temperatures dropping. There was only so much the heater could do to warm the car without it feeling like an absolute sauna, and a three-hour drive meant an absolute need to be as comfortable as you could be.

A slight shiver ran up and down your arms, chin trembling either out of pure exhaustion or frigidity, yet you still shook your head, lowering your hands into your lap, clasping them together for warmth trying to convince him.

You began to assure him, but it didn’t last long, “No I’m—”

He dropped his hands, fingers going to the zipper of his jacket, pulling the closure down and shrugging the garment off his arms, holding it out to you.

“I can see you shivering, you know.” He chuckled, nudging the jacket to you again when you didn’t take it the first time.

You hesitated for a second, before ultimately sighing out a laugh and taking it, apologizing as you slipped it on.

“I’m a guest in your car. I didn’t want to overstep.”

Seth let out a sarcastic grunt, buckling in as he spoke.

“Trust me, I’ve driven with guys who snore through ten hour drives and some who insist on blasting music all the way through. You’re by far the best road partner I’ll have to date.”

He said it like a promise, sweet and sincere like the way his voice always carried itself with you. It was hard as is, transitioning into a new job, but one that also came with an intense level of travel added another layer to the reason why he felt it was vital you had someone you could go to no matter what—and if that was him, then he was more than happy to be that person for you.

You crossed your fingers he couldn’t see you blushing through the darkness of the car. The headlights reflecting brightly off the walls and bouncing off the windshield didn’t help your case, but you couldn’t fight it. Perhaps you were smitten because of the conversation you had with the girls just a short while ago, but even then you knew it was partly just you in your head.

You had banked out on becoming friends with Seth, and you couldn’t possibly imagine what you’d do without him. And what Eddie had teasingly said about you and him acting as more than friends suddenly played like a loop in your head. But you had to remind yourself that it was just platonic, and that was all it could ever amount to.

“Thanks again for letting me tag along. I’d be lost without you.” You murmured, absentmindedly setting your hand over his wrist, grazing his skin softly.

Seth kept his cool, ignoring the hot rush of blood in his veins beneath your touch—it was nothing else besides platonic. Your kindness had always been extended to everyone. It just so happened that you two had spent a lot of time together, but still didn’t mean anything else.

He had spent all this time criticizing his friends because of their relentless teasing, yet he knew that if they were there to see what was unfolding before him, it would only egg all of them on further to believing you and him could actually be a thing.

The naked eyes you both held onto each other didn’t even see through a glimpse of what you felt inside. You didn’t say anything about his pulse beating against your fingertips and Seth certainly didn’t bring up your pink cheeks in the dead of the night—all of it was left unspoken, but it didn’t mean that nothing was said.

You and Seth talked and talked under the moonlit sky, mostly about Chicago. He had been multiple times, back in his indie days where he would drive from state to state and town to town to wrestle and get his name out there. All of those late night drives in shitty broken-down cars finally paid off a few years back after your father offered him a contract in developmental and closed off the indie days chapter and brought him straight to Tampa where bigger plans laid ahead.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t been to many places, far from home, and Chicago was one of them. It was safe to say that while the travel schedule was something so foreign to you it gave you the opportunity to see the world in a medium where you still got to work within your element.

“Do you ever miss the indies?” You marveled aloud, peering at him and he pursed his lips, puffing out an absurd breath of air.

“Hell no,” He sneered, making you burst into laughter, shaking your head at him while he argued his case, “I don’t miss getting paid forty bucks and a hot dog for getting my ass kicked in a high school gym.”

It felt like it was just yesterday when promoters would slap a few bills in the palm of his hand, and he was even lucky if they provided food after the show. Most times it was just him and his other indie buddies driving to the nearest 7/11 to spend their hard earned cash on gas station food and fill up their tank to head back home only for a repeat all over again.

“Okay, I get that,” You nodded understandingly, shifting your torso towards him as you tucked your legs under yourself. “But I mean, do you miss the innocence? Like, the small crowds that believed in you, even when you were just doing it for the hope of it all?”

You stared at him, elbow rested on the console, genuinely curious, and Seth found it endearing considering his past wasn’t all that glamorous to begin with. But your desire to dive into his world, attempting to dissect it in your own way made him realize that he hadn’t pondered his roots in what felt like forever.

“Well, when you put it that way,” He strung together a hum, glancing at you for a quick second just enough for you to catch his smile before turning his attention back to the road, “Yeah. I never imagined I’d be here. It still feels a little surreal at times.”

Perhaps there was a double meaning. Here as in working for the company he had always been dreaming about since he was kid. And here beside you—breathing your air, hearing your voice, getting a rare to chance to know you.

He didn’t know why he thought beyond what you had asked, but it felt right, just as he was beside you. The what was supposed to be solo drive to the next city, way more pleasant with your presence.

“You came a long way and you deserve it.” You grinned, eyes twinkling towards him, catching a glimpse of his orbs that wished could’ve stayed set on you through the night.

The first hour of the car ride was a breeze, a nice smooth journey as you and Seth talked about any and everything under the dusk to get you through the next town. You could’ve listened to his voice for hours, talking up a storm and making you crack a smile even in your most exhaustive hours—but then again, you were spent, and soon your quick replies and giggles became nothing but tired hums and weak nods of your head.

You liked to think that the same way his voice could keep you up in the early morning hours of a busy city, also had the effect of helping you drift off into sleep on a long road to another bustling town.

Seth hadn’t taken your quietness as to you being asleep. To be fair, he had just thought you were staring out the window, taking in the drive with some comfortable silence he didn’t mind at all. It wasn’t until he pulled up to the drive through of a fast-food restaurant that he realized that you had been fast asleep for nearly a half hour.

“Did you want something?” He asked, finishing up his order and reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet before looking over at you.

With no response, he hovered over the console a tad, finally seeing your chest falling in tune with the mellow breaths you took, and your eyes fluttered shut as you dreamed away. He smiled tightly at the sight just before turning back to the intercom and speaking at a lower volume in hopes not to wake you.

Hour two consisted of Seth quietly munching on his fries and burgers, softening the crinkle of the paper under a napkin, doing his best to keep the car nice and quiet for you.

You had shifted around a few times by hour three, maneuvering your body into a cramped fetus position and facing towards him. You untucked your arms from the inside of the jacket, pulling the excess fabric under your chin and settling into a deep sleep once more.

How you were able to sleep like a baby in the passenger seat wasn’t something he could fathom, considering how uncomfortable the front seat was for the guys who were always too tall to burrow into a cacoon like you were. But he guessed you had overworked yourself into a state of complete and utter exhaustion.

You always gave a hundred percent of yourself every night, but with your dad gone and you left to the pickup the pieces, you had gone out of your way to try to help everyone—spreading yourself out too thin before the veil broke and you had to hide away for the sake of your wellbeing.

The drive was nearly over, and he could only steal some quick glances towards you before you both had finally made it to the hotel just a little before midnight. The parking lot was full of similar rental cars, a clear indicator that everyone had beaten them there. Finding the nearest available parking spot, he quickly drove in, switching gears and letting up on the brake pedal.

“Wakey, wakey,” Seth called out gently, unbuckling his seat belt and giving your arm a soft tap, attempting to stir you from your slumber.

Yet you didn’t budge, not even a little, your breathing slow and steady as the hum of the air conditioning faded when Seth pulled the key from the ignition. He sighed softly, not wanting to disturb you but knowing you needed proper rest.

“Sweetheart, we made it to the hotel,” He spoke a little louder this time, hoping it’d get you to wake, “We gotta get you checked in so you can get some in bed, yeah?”

He reached over to give your shoulder a soft rub, trying to ease you awake gradually.

“Hmm,” you groaned, eyebrows furrowing together as you fidgeted around and turned away from him, body curling towards the passenger door.

Waking you up didn’t seem like a possibility, your body too exasperated to even make out his voice calling out to you, and it was probably in his best interest if he just made sure you got to your room to rest. Letting his hand slip away, he came around to your side, gently opening the door, and reaching in with one arm to support you while the other unclasped your seatbelt.

“Come on, I’m gonna help you out.” He murmured, shifting you into an upright position.

Carefully, Seth unzipped the jacket you’d borrowed from him earlier, slipping your arms back into the sleeves so he could lift you more easily.

Cradling you in his arms, he carried you out of the car, making sure you stayed upright against his side, as he shut the door and locked up the car, guiding your dead weight towards the hotel entrance.

The woman at the reception desk looked up with a warm smile as Seth approached, your head resting on his shoulder, still deep in sleep.

“Under what name?” The woman asked, fingers hovering over the keyboard, ready to get you both into your room.

Seth shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on you as he spoke, “Actually, we have two separate rooms. Hers should be under Levesque.” He told her, waiting for a room key to your suite before asking for his.

The woman’s smile faltered with a frown, shaking her head apologetically.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can only give the room information to the individual whose last name the room is under.” She said, gawking at your unconscious state.

Seth sighed, glancing down at you resting so peacefully in his arms. He didn’t have the heart to wake you up, just for a little room key.

“Look, I don’t want to wake her. She’s had a long day and she really just needs some rest.”

“I understand that, sir, but it’s policy.” The woman explained, “I’m afraid I can’t make any exceptions.”

She was just doing her job, and he understood that the predicament looked more than sketchy, but he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, and he certainly wasn’t going to let you go to bed on the lobby couch.

“Okay, how about Rollins? My room.” He proposed, slipping his hand into his pocket, retrieving his identification.

She scanned over his ID, nodding and sliding it back towards him, then doing some typing on her keyboard getting the room information from the computer screen.

“Here you are, room 1306,” she slid the key across the countertop, and Seth quickly slipped it into his pocket before wrapping both arms around you securely again.

“It has a single king bed, but there’s also a pull out.” She added thoughtfully, but Seth didn’t miss the confusion on her face, not understanding why you both would have separate rooms to begin with.

“Thank you.” He nodded, keeping it short not feeling the need to explain himself, before carrying you through the lobby toward the elevators.

The nearest elevator began to close, and he quickly called out, hoping for the people inside to stop it.

Unbeknownst to him, the lift contained his buddies—the same ones who recognized his voice in an instant and stopped the doors from shutting at the list second. Jey snuck his hand out, prompting the doors to open once again, as there Seth stood with the boss’s daughter in his arms.

“Oh shit! Don’t tell me you’re going all vintage Triple H right now,” He shrieked, voice echoing in the small space and ringing out the corridor, causing everyone’s eyes to widen.

Seth ignored the comment, shifting your weight slightly to keep you snug in his hold as he stepped into the elevator. He didn’t have the usual energy to snap back a remark, too tired and frankly too concerned about getting you into bed to actually care.

Jimmy gave his brother a light smack on the back of the neck, silently telling him to cut it out, while both he and Naomi rolled their luggage aside to make room for the two bodies joining them.

“Thanks,” Seth mumbled, settling in as the doors closed behind him.

Roman leaned against the wall, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “You can’t be serious, can you?” his tone half serious, half amused not believing this was actually unfolding before his very eyes.

He knew that the closer Seth became to you, the risker things would become—not just the notion of the superstars making harmless jokes anymore, but substantial people backstage that would take notice and immediately tell your father of any funny business. And it seemed Seth wasn’t even thinking about that at all.

“What?” Seth shrugged his shoulders as much as he could without waking you, not knowing what the big deal was. “She fell asleep in the car and I tried to wake her up but it’s pointless.” He reasoned plainly.

Roman sighed, still a little skeptical, “What floor?” He asked, reaching over to push the button on the panel.

“Thirteen.” Seth replied, watching the button illuminate, the lift humming, as it took you all upwards.

Seth glanced down at you, gently readjusting your arms around his waist so you could stay comfortable. And like it was instinct, he felt your arms tighten around him, nuzzling your face deeper into the juncture of his neck.

His cheeks threatened to turn red, and a smile tugged violently at the corner of his lips, a kind of smitten he had to hold back, wishing he took a different elevator to conceal their eyes that bored into the two of you. He cleared his throat, cutting into the silence, trying to shift the focus away from the jokes that wanted to air out.

“Didn’t you guys leave the arena before us? You’re just getting in?”

Naomi rolled her eyes, shooting her husband a glare. “This man missed the exit and the stupid GPS rerouted us wrong.”

“Hey don’t blame me!” Jimmy protested, smacking his lips with a tsk, “there’s worse that could’ve happened like my ass on the verge of getting fired because I decided to kidnap the bosses daughter.”

Seth grumbled, closing his eyes with the shake of his head, hoping the damn elavator would hurry it up.

“Shut up.” Naomi smacked his arm lightly, her eyes softening when she looked at you. “She needs the rest. She was telling us about the wild goose chase they had her on tonight. Poor thing.”

“Exactly, thank you.” Seth looked over at the woman gratefully, nodding his head, as he spoke dryly towards the others, “It’s what friends would do for each other.”

Roman shook his head, stifling a laugh, “Yeah okay sure…friends.”

Finally, the elevator approached the thirteenth floor, slowing as Seth was ready to escape the confines, but of course not without one final jab from Jey.

“Nighty night…don’t let the ghost of papa H haunt you tonight.”

Everyone choked on their laughter, not wanting to possibly wake you and face the wrath of Seth himself. Roman stuck one hand out the door as it opened, pausing the automatic closure.

“See you in the morning, man.” He added with a knowing smirk, giving his brother a pat on the back, as Seth exited and headed down the hall to find his room.

Once he found it, he fished the key out of his pocket, sliding it into the slot. The lock mechanism whirled quietly in the stillness before the green light flickered on, unlocking the door. It wasn’t a suite, but the room had ample space for you both, though Seth knew he still had to grab the belongings from the car.

He stepped inside, gently kicking the door closed behind him, and without thinking his hand reached for the lock, turning it into place.

Guiding you over to the bed, he did his best to maneuver you as quick as he could, yet at the same time keeping his touch delicate not wanting to wake you so abruptly.

“Easy, easy,” he whispered, setting you down upright for a moment letting your forehead rest against his shoulder as he pulled back the sheets, then carefully rested you down back first.

He took a moment to adjust the pillow under your head, making sure you were comfortable, before kneeling down on the ground to work your shoelaces loose. Pulling your socked feet away from your sneakers, he set them aside before tucking your legs under the duvet.

“There we go,” He chuckled under his breath, impressed with himself that you hadn’t woken up through all the moving and noise.

He tucked you in carefully, making sure you were snug enough to where the blankets stopped at your chest. But you had done the same thing in the car—your fingers timidly creeping up, brushing against his as you pulled it up higher under your chin.

Seth couldn’t help but smile, standing there for a moment as he watched you relax even deeper into the bed. Your bones sensing the cushiony feeling underneath you and all the weight you had been carrying suddenly melting away with your breathing slowed and steady.

Content that you were safe and sound, he quietly slipped out of the room, triple checking to make sure the door was locked again before heading back down to retrieve the bags from the car. It was nearing almost one in the morning and his own fatigue crept into his bones and the socket of his eyes that wanted to droop asleep, yet all that he could feel was an odd sense of protectiveness over you.

He didn’t like the idea of being away from you, let alone being with anyone else in the state that you were in tonight.

What would’ve happened if he left the arena before you could find him?

What if you rode with someone else and they hadn’t made sure you were okay?

All the worries that you were the common denominator in eating away at the walls he was supposed to have up in order to protect himself. From what? He had no idea, but he knew well and sure that he couldn’t have let anything happen to you.

You had shifted around in the short time he was gone, this time laying on your side cuddled up into the blankets that practically swallowed you whole. The carpeted floors help cushion the sounds of the wheels rolling against them, setting his belongings in the corner near the couch on the opposite end of the room before setting your stuff near the closet.

There was weak light illuminating the darkness of your bag, your cellphone coming in with a few notifications, but what caught Seth’s eye was the red indicator on the battery icon. Thankfully, your charger was tangled up in your bag, and he quickly undid the loops before walking to your bedside and plugging it in for you to have come morning.

With everything settled, Seth walked over to the pullout couch, grabbing the clothed tab and tugging on it to reveal the full-sized bed. Certainly it wasn’t the comfiest thing for his stature or his back, but he had slept on worse, and he was lucky that he didn’t have to share it with anyone in a janky motel.

Shutting off the lights, and laying down, he still couldn’t get his mind off you as you laid just a few feet away from him. He hadn’t expected this was the way his night would end, but then again, he wouldn’t want it any other way—maybe a proper bed for the sake of his body, but he’d deal with the cards he had been dealt.

As you dreamed away, he wondered if you knew he’d make sure nothing happened to you. That you subconsciously trusted him enough, that even in your weakest, most vulnerable state, you knew he was there. And as his eyes began to blink slower by the second, completely sinking into sleep, in the back of his mind he hoped you knew that he could be that person.

And in the silence of the shared room, you and Seth dreamt away—but not far enough to escape each other.

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a/n: i hope you guys like chapter four of icsy!!! originally this chapter was supposed to be way longer, but i decided to split it--don't worry, chapter five is coming super soon after this one!!! let me know what you think about sethie and the princess ;D

taglist: @ellesmythe @wonderharryy @southerngirl41 @eringobragh420

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