#but man the test taking anxiety has been fucking me over

[teamcavota]

i don't know if having a weed break before taking my test would be an amazing or terrible idea

[plutolovesyou]

how soon is now? | part one

READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸

teasers: one. two. series masterlist. next part here!!

♡: hallway crush!ellie x uni student!reader

☆: listen, i know this timeline is kind of ridiculous, but i’ve organized it all best as i can! this is the expanded story based on those first little blurbs introducing the au (reads fine on its own though), and this part specifically was originally going to be one huge fic, but i've ultimately decided to split it up and drop the first part now, because i feel like it ends in a convenient enough space where i can make a separation not so jarring. so that means this will have a direct continuation (how soon is now? 2 ? lol this is so stupid-), and that will be posted soon enough once i finish it! but yes that means after so much waiting, it's finally here for y’all. i literally thought up this silly idea right before i passed out on new years, and never expected y’all to love it so much…but i keep my promises, so here. also love the smiths and felt the title sort of fit. i feel like not too much happens but eh anyway, thank you for waiting, thank you for reading, and please enjoy!

♧:4.6k word count

◇:suggestive but not explicit - horny descriptions and tension, however no smut (for now?….BUT DON'T HOLD ME TO THAT.) no descriptions of reader’s physical appearance, no use of “y/n”, slow-burn construction and loooooads of pining, a lot of build up but stay with me, attempts at occasional foreshadowing, smau elements(text messages lmao), savage starlight is a plot point lol, hallwaycrush!ellie is sort of a mix of loser/modern/university au/dorky-ish ellie I DON'T EVEN KNOW. abby is your bestie, girl what else do i put here- this is just kinda plot, plot, and more plot progression about the whole ordeal, and me indulging my obsession with modern!ellie. (lmk if there's anything to be added!)

“Abbyyyyyyyyyy.” 

You rolled around your lifelong best friend’s bed, babbling her ear off while she studied away at her desk, or tried to at least. This situation has been a daily occurrence for weeks at this point.

Laying on your stomach facing away from her, you could hear her scoff in annoyance. “What?” “Please give me some advice..I don't know what I'm even supposed to do. She's driving me up the wall." This crush was the sole thing occupying your poor mind, so naturally, you had to drown your bestie with your troubles as well. That's what friends do. Abby spun around on her chair to face you, with a clearly fed up expression on her face, and leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. 

“Well I don’t fucking know man, I’ve already given you my best advice, and that's either introduce yourself, or suffer.” She said coolly. You sat up and groaned. Wasn't there an easier way? One that didn't involve actually taking initiative and doing something? Maybe, hypothetically, you ace a test, and the professor announces it in front of everyone as he emotionally congratulates his star student, and she bounds over, beaming. Then tearfully confesses her love and admiration for you- hold on, where the fuck is this going?

“Oh come on, you know I can’t do that..” You gulped a burning bundle of anxiety down as you replayed the scenarios with your obsession for the thousandth time that day, the mere crumbs you were forced to fixate on until you saw her next, the first sighting that started this whole fiasco,  and shook your head to clear it and listen to what your best friend had to say. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, slamming her textbook shut and making her way over to sit next to you.

“Listen babe, I love you, but you really gotta get ahold of yourself, alright?” She spoke sternly, looking you straight in the eyes to make sure you understood and absorbed every last word she said. “Listen, here's what you're gonna do. when you pass her in the hall, smile, it's simple but it's a classic, okay? And then you listen to the lecturer as normal, right? I have no idea what you nerds do in astrophysics, but that's besides my point. Make sure to pay attention and not stare only at her like a stalker or something, I cannot stress enough how normal you gotta be. But here's where it gets good, you still with me?” 

You're listening to her for sure, and nod vigorously. Crystal clear. She continues, “Okay you said you sit as far as possible from her? Sheesh, why'd you do that? When the class is over I want you to go over to her, and introduce yourself. Catch her on her way out, tap her on the shoulder if you're feeling bold. Ask for some of her contact details, play it cool. Just don't shit yourself, got it? All you gotta do." 

Abby finishes her speech, smirking and looking smug. She's positive she got through to you this time. On the surface you're totally chill, confident even, ready to snatch this ethereal being for yourself, however underneath all that you knew you didn't have an ounce of the courage that was required for this seemingly impossible task. 

Breathing deeply to calm yourself and try to take in her helpful words as best as possible, you give Abby a hug. “Thank you Abs, really. I'll do my best. Oh, but what if I freak out and start stuttering- or what if I trip and fall on her…I can't do this what the hell.” Swarmed with worry, you start doubting yourself yet again. Burying your face in your palms, you feel two strong hands on either side of your upper arms and you look back at Abby, who's really not playing around anymore. 

She was so serious about this it almost scared you. Either she cared about you more than anything, or she wanted to hear the end of these pathetic, lovestruck rambles. You prayed it was the former. 

“Suck it up. You can do this. You've had crushes before haven't you? This should be a piece of cake c’mon, I believe in you. Make sure to keep me updated every step of the way! I need to hear every last detail.” She lightens up at the end and releases you from her grip once she sees you've relaxed. 

Unsurprisingly, your best friend always knew what to say to snap you out of your spirals. Maybe most would disagree with her methods, say she was being rough, but they worked for you. Heart rate returning to a normal pace, you reply genuinely. 

“Okay, okay I got this. Yeah, it'll be fine.” She was getting through to you, this time you felt sure of it. “Good, good. Now will you let me finish this stupid assignment? Then we can watch something or do whatever." Abby chatted as she got up and sat back at her desk, resuming her studious endeavor as she left you with your thoughts. 

Immediately you heard her mutter, “All this and you don't even know her goddamn name…good grief.” For the sake of preserving the peace you chose to graciously ignore that one. She said she wanted some quiet, didn't she? 

Drifting away into a sea of daydreams, your thoughts inevitably returned to being clouded by this cryptic figure. It was like she'd cast a love spell on you. Did she even know who you were? Or did she shoot everyone those insufferably charming looks of hers. Was she even aware of how fucking cool she was? 

Dressed in that deliciously grungy style, you yearned to know what floated behind her greener-than-grass eyes. Her hair looked so smooth and soft, the wispy auburnette strands framing her refined features, intriguing fern tattoo decorating her lean forearm…. You felt your cheeks begin to heat up as a portrait of her materialized in your mind's eye. Nestling into the comfortable atmosphere of your best friend's room, you sunk deeper into your thoughts.

Like Abby had mentioned, it certainly wasn't as if you've never had crushes before, you've certainly had your fair share of them, like most people. But that was a sort of flaky, surface level interest, whether it be for their looks, their little quirks, or ways they treated you. Maybe it has been a while since you'd had a proper crush, but you couldn't recall a time when the infatuation, the pure limerence, had hit you this hard before. You almost felt helpless, just besotted by her.

You simply needed to act on this. Right then and there you steeled yourself, and decided you were going to follow Abby's advice after all, and go after this hallway crush. Worst comes to worst, she turns you down, you get over it eventually, bla bla end of story. It wasn't going to be too complicated, right?

You and Abby had stayed up all night, dusk till dawn, gossiping about things other than your hallway crush, shocking, and you were greatly regretting that decision the very moment it was time to gather your books and get to class.

You really did not feel like stunning everyone around you with a gorgeous outfit today, you were just trying to make it through the day in one piece to be honest with yourself. 

With a pounding headache you threw on some mismatched sweats, and ran out the door to be on time. Your bag felt unreasonably heavy as you made your way down your apartment stairs, and you cursed your past self for choosing a building without an elevator. Sure, exercise is healthy, but it can’t be when you’re feeling like a zombie, and wish for nothing more than a good, long nap.

Luckily the lecture hall was a comfortable distance away from your place, not far enough to make it a pain, but enough so you could get a much needed breath of fresh air. The tiredness had pushed all plans of action you and Abby had discussed the previous night to the back of your head, and you weren't thinking of your crush at all. At least for now. 

Walking slowly with your gaze pointed downward, you eventually made it to the hall. Completely dazed and zoned out, you made a mental note to never pull an all nighter again, gross, who’s idea was that- thump. 

Out of nowhere you're rudely jolted from your silent sulking by colliding with something, or someone? It takes a moment to register what happened, and you quickly look up from staring at the ground to sort the situation out. “Oh my gosh I am so sorry..” 

Profusely apologizing while simultaneously being smacked across the face with the realization of who this was. Her. Your words trail off as you’re suddenly winded, and you feel your blood run cold. You’re transfixed by the intense eye contact, and it feels like time has stopped. Goodness, this is dramatic. 

In the time it takes for you to briefly die and come back to life, the young woman has lowered her chunky headphones so they rest around her neck, Morissey’s vocals faintly floating out of them, and is looking at your stunned state with an indiscernible sneer playing on her face. Was this actually happening? Holy shit you and Abby did not discuss this scenario…you weren’t looking where you were going and had collided with an actual Earth angel. Great.

Still gawking at her like an absolute buffoon, akin to a deer in headlights, she breaks the tension first, with a smooth voice that you would obey virtually any command for. 

“Nah, you’re good.” And a wink. Your heart skipped a beat, or four, when you witnessed her wink at you. Did you imagine it? Was she being suave on purpose or did she have an eyelash in her eye…Was your life a literal rom-com or what? 

“Um..” Your mouth opens and closes in an attempt to form a coherent sentence, but your brain is much too fried to do so because, well, you had just made physical contact with the literal girl of your dreams. And gods did she smell good…while you’re unable to tear your eyes away from hers, she keeps talking as if nothing happened.

“I think the prof had an emergency or fuckin’, I dunno.” She stops to gesture around the two of you at the crowd that had formed in front of the auditorium’s double doors with elegant, ring adorned fingers..holy fuck you needed those inside you right fucking now- WHAT. 

Briskly shoving those thoughts down to the deepest depths of your subconscious back to where they belong, you turned your attention back to her, and put on a brave front. Hyper aware of how searing hot your face felt, her pretty self didn't show a hint of caring that you were making a fool of yourself. They say that any situation is always worse in your head than it was in actuality, well you hoped so. 

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” Clearing your throat you managed a sentence back, hooray. You were doing this. Good job. Although, of course, before the gorgeous nymph before you had a chance to respond with her own assumptions, a substitute lecturer you had never seen before pushes his way through the crowd and unlocks the door while people file in, separating you from her. You felt like Rose, viciously torn away from Jack from Titanic, what a cruel, cruel world this was.

And once again you didn't get to ask her name. Re-slinging her bag with one arm, she looks back at you one final time and throws you a “cya around.” Before disappearing into the auditorium with everyone else. You meekly nod at her and force a lopsided smile, before leaning against the wall to steady yourself after that fiasco in the now empty hallway.

Wasting virtually not a moment of time, you pulled your phone out and began furiously texting Abby with a recount of the events at a speed faster than the speed of light. 

Once that excruciatingly torturous class was over, you applauded yourself for containing the stares in her direction and keeping your eyes fixated on the professor. Whether you actually retained any information, now that was a different story. Picking up your bags and laptop, you stay behind for a moment as everyone else files out, no need to crowd and suffocate amongst the other students, and you had nowhere to be except catch up on your favorite shows and relax all by yourself. 

Filing out the auditorium with everyone else, you see a familiar face pass by you, and vaguely hear Abby’s voice in your head urging you to seize the moment. Now’s your chance, go! And so you gather every little bit of strength you possess to do just that. 

After a couple deep breaths you jog up to her. “Uh, hey.” She turns around and gives you a warm smile, making your legs instantly turn to jelly. You subtly checked her out and took in her outfit, another bulky jacket and lightly distressed jeans. Fingers studded with layered silver rings, and those big ole headphones seemed to be magnetically attached to her, she always had them on her. Note to self: ask for some music recommendations.

She was even hotter up close…with a beautiful galaxy of freckles scattered across her fair skin, you wanted to place a kiss on every single of them. “I, um, never caught your name.” “It's Ellie.” She sticks out her hand for a handshake and you accepted it, you finally had a name to the face you've been pining over so intensely for so long. Abby was going to lose it once you tell her about this. You steady your voice and hide the glee that was likely evident from this interaction going so smoothly, and introduce yourself to her as well.

After some time of idle chit chat and standing there, neither one of you knowing really what to say, Ellie pipes up, facepalming, tsking, and furrowing her brows. “Oh yeah, I don’t mean to spring this on you outta nowhere, but would you wanna study sometime?” She flushes a dusty pink, “I don't know anyone else taking this course and am having kind of a hard time with it...when I chose it, I expected it to be more about space and the planets, and less about numbers and math, my head hurts.”

Her demeanor was making you feel rather comfortable with her, even though the two of you had just formally met a few minutes prior. “I would love to, yeah!” Maybe you were being a little too enthusiastic, but at this point you were operating on pure instinct and not thinking critically of what was coming out of your mouth. “I actually don't have any plans now, or today at all, so if you want to, we can get a head start before the next class?” Well that just slipped out. Go you, blurting things out. 

You had no idea why you'd said that because your place was an absolute mess, clothes strewn everywhere, trash can still full, you'd been too preoccupied with your studies, and well her, to do much about it. To your horror, Ellie exclaims, “Hey, that's perfect! I don't have anything to do right now either, and it would be good to act on it while it's still fresh in my mind, y’know?” Her face morphs into an adorable toothy grin as she taps on her skull comically, you were becoming more obsessed by the second, if that was even possible.

Every little sliver of her personality you got to see under the stoic one you had assumed she had just grasped at your heartstrings. You smiled back at her so hard you almost pulled a muscle in your cheeks, “Awesome! Follow me, then, my dorm isn't far.”

The walk there was mostly fine as the two of you made it to your place, Ellie occasionally making comments about how she hates the class even though she adores outer space and learning about it on her own time, and you were nodding and acting as if you're listening, agreeing with her robotically while she rambled away and you daydreamed about what her lush lips would feel like on yours. You wondered if she was gentle with it, or if she’d kiss you hungrily, devour you like her very last meal….gulp.

Leading her to your place was an automatic task, not much navigation needed, and when the journey was done you had to legitimately stop short for a moment in an attempt to soothe the pounding in your chest. 

The crush that has plagued your mind for ages, who you've just met formally today, was about to be in your room. The two of you were about to be alone. That was totally fine, yeah, she can't be a murderer…..right?

“You good?” She asked sweetly, why did she have to be so nice, “Those stairs were killer, I totally get it, phew.” “Oh for sure, gets me every time.” Covering up your panic smoothly, you unlocked the door and went inside with her. When she walked inside, Ellie took a glance around your room and set herself down at the edge of your bed, immediately making herself comfortable, while you still lingered in the doorway, awkwardly swaying and staring at her, unsure of what to do with yourself. 

Suddenly you had completely forgotten why she was here in the first place. “No way, you read Savage Starlight too???” She spotted the figurine on your desk and snatched it up in her hands to inspect it thoroughly, with a childlike wonder in her eyes. “Wow, this one was a limited edition and it sold out in like an hour, I'm so jealous you got this!! How much you want for it, I'm serious.” She was so excited, and you couldn't believe it. Savage Starlight has always been one of your favorite comics ever, you've loved it since you were a young teen, and now this seemingly perfect human before you, who you're hopelessly obsessed with says she loves it too? Could she get any more flawless, is all you could wonder.

Her happiness because of this little thing you two bonded over was infectious, and some of your nerves slowly began to go away.  Grinning genuinely, you sheepishly said, “I've never met anyone else who likes it, that story has helped me through lots of phases in my life, and Daniela was my gay awakening.” Ellie gaped at you for a beat, making you almost doubt revealing that information.

“No. Fuckin’. Way. Mine too! Her suit was just- damn. And those action scenes in the third volume had my thirteen year old self’s brain just mush for, I don't even know for how long. This is crazy, I can already see we’re gonna get along so well.”

You wanted to talk to her about everything and anything forever, and her glee made you want to squish her, but there was unfortunately work to be done first. “There’s so much we have to discuss, but we gotta get some studying done first if we wanna make it out of this course alive.”

You were sitting at your desk, hunched over the sprawled out textbooks and messy notes, as you drew the graphs and talked to her about the concepts she was struggling with. Your desk was so small and you only had one chair, and you were the one using it, so Ellie was forced to hover over you to see all you were doing.

Focusing solely on the subject before you was proving to be more difficult as studying time went by, because you were a little too aware of the way she had caged you in against the desk to watch, her oversized shirt grazing your upper back. You gripped your pen ever so tightly to minimize any trembling, and kept a steady voice as best you could while explaining it all.

She was so, so close, the tension in the tiny room was palpable, she didn't seem to notice your nervous tremors or the proximity she’d created, and the low murmurs of, “ohhh, mhm, yeah,” as you embarrassingly stammered over your explanations made you flushed and to be frank, needy. You could feel her warmth radiating off of her, could faintly hear her breathing just above you. You didn't dare move a muscle. Was she feeling this too?

At this point you swore the delicious gravelly vibrations from her voice this close to you would be plenty enough to make you cream your pants. The air in the enclosed space was getting hotter and thicker by every passing moment, it took everything you had to keep yourself from losing your mind right now. If you moved back a petty few inches, you’d be pressed flush with her front. What would that be like, you wondered. Oh, no. Your throat felt drier than the desert when you swallowed, the thought of that making you weak.

Since your focus on the work was lapsing, you were beginning to make some little mistakes and blunders, compelling her to take the pen right from your hand and fix them herself. “No, no, this one’s supposed to be like this instead, see? Then you're able to get the right answer which is…” She stretches over you further, you nearly whined, someone save you, and grabs the textbook to review the solution. “Like this, yeah, I was right. Honest mistake though, don’t worry about it.”

You nod your head and make a pathetic murmur of approval, ignoring the fiery tingles spreading all the way up your arm when her hand bumps yours to return the writing utensil, and the blistering coil of want forming in your stomach. This all had to be deliberate, right? She couldn't lack that much spatial awareness, could she? Well, it wasn’t that you minded, she could get as close as she damn wanted to, you'd let her throw you around like a ragdoll even- you were just afraid your heart was going to give out if she kept it up. “Could you show me this work you guys did? Of course the one day I'm late, the prof talks about something new and I miss it.” 

What feels like an eternity later, you hear her groan above you and she returns to her earlier spot on your bed. You can finally breathe properly. Glancing at the clock, your own headache begins to set in. Crap it was late, how time flies. 

“We’ve been studying for so long, it’s getting late.” “Shit, you’re right, I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome. Sorry about that, and hey, thanks for this. I understand it all a lot better now, see you tomorrow.”

She stands up abruptly and ushers herself out of your door in a flash, to which you clumsily stand up, knock your chair over, and hastily run after her, not wanting her to go just yet. “Wait, Ellie!” “What's up, did I forget something?”

She pats her pockets and looks at you with concern. Round puppy dog eyes, and lips in a miniscule pout, so cute. You were in front of her now, but did not process what you actually wanted to say. Just ran after her like the smitten nincompoop you are. Upon feeling your face go hot, you look at the ground to mutter, “Uh- nothing. See you later.” Realistically, what were you planning on saying, or doing?

After stumbling over your words you two finally part ways and you slump down against your door, missing her presence already. You simultaneously wanted to jump around or open your bedside table drawer to release the energy you'd accumulated, and wanted to fall into the deepest sleep of your life to recuperate from the experience. This was just, a lot. You wanted to scream and screech like there's no tomorrow, but did not want to deal with noise complaints from the others living on your floor. Gosh she was so close, she shares your niche interest, your hands touched, albeit accidentally, lo and behold you were in love with her.

Maybe it was early to call it that, but you were going to plan out your future together. Preferably a quaint, peaceful farmhouse, the one you two lovebirds renovated together exactly how you envisioned, where you could ogle her doing the farmwork. Ugh. Cook all her favorite meals, make sweet, sweet love under the moonlight. Take strolls through the flower gardens you two planted, receive her curated bouquets as gifts, you two are going to have such a tender, domestic life. 

You had to mull it over some more, and didn’t dare wish to forget how close she was to you, you were still buzzing from her essence. You were pointlessly pacing around your room now, unable to stop looping the study session's events in your head. The simplicity, the eroticism of the encounter. One-sided or not, you had yet to find out more about her, the impatience was going to take over. The day almost seemed too good to be true, but for now you had to force yourself to relax and think about something other than her. Time to browse Pinterest with striking kitchen ideas for your beautiful future. 

What were you going to say to her the next time you see her? You were eager to know how, or if at all, this new friendship was going to progress. Part of you was dying of impatience, but the rest of you wanted to take it all as slow as possible, savoring every little moment and making the most of it. 

You sighed, this was going to be a long, long, year.

lovely taggies: @amiorca @mostlyhornyandsad @lasting-lover @radioheadfan699 @sophie-thefrog8 @machetegirl109 @ellieschair @aouiaa @wavesgocrash @tangerinngi @elliesbitchvenus @dinaissoprettyoml @rxreaqia @camicocom1a @elliesexual @ellslvr @boobdrug @writing-on-a-bathroom-stall @bready101 @yourelliewillms

.......really hoping this doesn't flop because it isn't smutty, yall wanted more fics that are plot soooo

[millyhelp]

How would Jason act if he found out you were pregnant?

Headcanon

warnings: angst! Sad shit with happy ending! anxiety and panic attack! Jason has very low self-esteem, so I warn you that he will depreciate himself a lot. mentions of sex. mentions of death. reader comforting Jason. English is not my first language, sorry for the grammar mistakes (if it have any)

•You had been acting strange for a few weeks now.

•You were eating more than usual.

•And feeling sicker than normal.

•Jason thought it was a virus.

•Then came the mood changes.

"Get out!" You shouted at him and threw a pillow at the man "You don't love me!"

"Doll, I just said I wouldn't make your pancake now because I need to go on patrol..." He said in a calm tone of voice

"It's the same thing!" you whined

•After a while, you were the one who noticed the changes.

•Your period had been late for a month.

•You were feeling hungrier than usual and wanting to eat strange things.

•You wanted to eat that strange mess that Starfire makes.

•Another month has passed.

•Your belly was a different size.

•After noticing this, you purchased 7 tests.

•Only one tested negative.

• Your luck is that Jason wasn't home, otherwise he would have heard your scream.

•What were you waiting for? You have a lot of sex, and babies comes from that.

•You were happy, but worried about Jason's reaction.

•You've been married for three years, you've talked about babies before.

•But you still worry, you know how Jason's mind works.

•You did your best to hide the tests and thought about how to tell Jason.

•He was away on a mission with Bruce and would only return at dawn.

•You decided to tell him in the morning.

•You would wake him up with a beautiful breakfast and tell him.

•As it was still afternoon, you had time to go shopping for a few things.

•You bought a small box with red baby shoes. You also went to the market and bought things to make Jason's favorite cake.

•Everything was perfect, or almost perfect.

•You hid things in the kitchen so you could make them for him in the morning, and went to sleep.

•When Jason arrived it was around three in the morning.

•He came in through the window and smiled when he saw you sleeping peacefully in the bed the two of you shared.

•He needed a shower urgently, so he went to take a shower.

•He took a warm, relaxing bath. When he was drying himself he looked around.

•The bathroom cabinet was not closed properly. It looked like there was something preventing it from closing.

•When Jason opened the closet to find out what was stopping it from closing, all the tests fell to the floor.

•Jason frowned and swore a fuck!

•He bent down and picked up the tests in his hand.

•Six positives and only one negative. Was that yours? It was obvious that it was.

•You don't know how to hide anything from him.

•Fuck, he's going to be a dad!

•Jason began to feel panicked. His breathing became unregulated.

•Still with the towel around his waist, Jason sat on the floor of the large bathroom.

•Suffocating.

•Suffocating.

•Suffocating.

•Jason gasped for air.

•Shit. Will he be a good father?

•He doesn't deserve this.

•He must be dead and not reproducing.

•He's just a stupid thing that should be dead.

•Jason tried to get up. His breathing was still uneven, he felt weak and ended up falling with a loud noise.

•You woke up with noise and looked around.

•"Jace? Are you home?" Your sleepy voice sounded loud, but Jason couldn't hear it, he was deep in his own panic.

•You got up and noticed the bathroom light on. Fuck! The tests!

•You quickly opened the bathroom door and found Jason on the floor struggling to breathe and with the seven tests on the floor next to him.

•"Jason!" You ran over to him and sat on his lap.

You placed both hands on his face.

"Jason, look at me!" His eyes looked into yours "Breathe... come on, breathe with me"

•Breathe, he had to breathe.

•"One..." you breathed in and so did he. "Two..." you breathed out and so did he.

"Three..." again you breathed in and so on until he could breathe.

Tears welled up in his eyes and Jason began to cry. It had been months since he had a crisis like this, the last time was when he was kidnapped by the three jokers.

"Jace... talk to me" You gently wiped his tears away. "You found the tests, didn't you?"

You looked to the side where the tests were on the floor.

"I..." Jason sobbed and tears fell "I'm going to be a dad?..."

"Yes, Jace..." you smiled lovingly "You're going to be a dad..."

"I don’t deserve." More tears fell and he closed his eyes shaking his head "I don't deserve it. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve it."

"Hey. Shh, Shh, Shh, Shh" You wiped his tears away again and he opened his eyes "Listen to me. You deserve it. Okay? You deserve it so much!"

Jason's blue eyes looked so deep now because of the tears and the heavy feeling in his chest.

"I should be dead, Yn..." He sobbed again "Not having kids..."

"But for some reason you're here with me, and I'm pregnant." You smiled at him, trying to reassure him.

"I love you, Jason. And this..." you took his hands and placed them on your stomach "It's one of the ways that love manifests itself."

Jason looked at where you placed his hands. He stroked yoour belly.

"Love. This is love." He spoke in a tearful voice and you nodded.

"I'm going to be a father..." He gave a weak smile "That explains your mood swings." He looked into her eyes "I love you so much. I feel like I'm not enough for you, will I be enough for our baby?"

"You are already enough. Always have been and always will be." You spoke with certainty and looked into Jason's eyes.

"You're going to be a great father." You smiled

"Do you really think?" He looked into your eyes looking for an answer

"I'm sure about that." You spoke and he kissed you.

•Jason has always been sensitive. But he's great with kids. So it will be great for your son or daughter (I dare say it will be a girl).

•"You weren't supposed to find out like that..." you giggled as your forehead was on his.

"You don't know how to hide things from me, I'm a detective trained with batman." Jason laughed and gave you a peck.

"Don't judge me." You pulled away and rolled your eyes, "I was going to tell you in the morning. I was going to make your favorite cake and make everything you like. I was going to prepare you, you know?"

"Well, I'll still take the cake." He said playfully.

"Silly. I'll do it tomorrow. But we need to go to sleep" You got up and he got up right behind you.

"Oh yeah?" He adjusted the towel around his waist again "We could practice making future babies..."

"Jason, this one isn't even born yet" You laughed and lay down on the bed

"So?" He shrugged "Practice makes perfect."

"Go to sleep, Mr. Todd." You opened your arms to him and he laid on your chest.

"Hmm... don't think I forgot about the cake you're going to make." He grumbled but soon fell asleep.

•He really didn't forget about the cake.

I CRIED SO MUCH WRITING THIS 😭🫡

Jason dad of a girl team!

[miserycanary]

JUST A DAY? ᡣ𐭩 [Ghost ver. Take It or Leave It]

pairing: König & fem!reader

synopsis: König forgets about your special day

tag: milder angst than normal, probably OOC König

It felt like mocking—taunting even. The red circle around today’s date looks like a sight for sore eyes. You ponder each moment that passes without your husband by your side, thinking if all the sacrifice you’ve made that led up to this moment was worth it. Was being abducted on your way home worth it for the man who couldn’t even show up to your own birthday dinner?

The cinnamon candles lit for this specific event are steadily melting, dimming your life even more. Homemade dishes cold and champagne dropping to room temperature. 

König was never the affectionate type—well, outside constant observation and pleads for you to just stay home while he takes care of the rest. He’s too unfamiliar with the ropes of a relationship. He didn’t even expect himself to land you. He’s familiar with the way everyone cowers in front of him because of his bulking figure, cloth draped over his head like some random serial killer, and the battlefield scars that make random strangers put 911 on speed-dial. 

Like always, when he puts his hand out to you, holding the purse you dropped, he expects you to run away, scream, or at least flinch. Though that wasn’t the case. Instead you peered up to him, flashing a soft smile before giving a small gratitude. He watched as your back turned, walking down the street looking like an angel that graced Earth with your presence. 

His next moves might have been.. questionable, but can you blame him? He has social skills comparable to that of a stone. So, yes, maybe it was kind of batshit crazy when he decided to stalk you, find out about you using connections, and all that. Yes, it was his fault when you tased him because he decided it was a good idea to visit you via breaking your window. 

The following years after that were rocky. It wasn’t easy to get you to trust him. It took him about 7 months before you even entertained the idea of going on a date with him. That’s when you finally realize how genuine his feelings are, understanding why he decided to approach the way he did because of his anxiety and overall cluelessness about relationships. 

It was smooth-sailing after that. You lived your life with a boyfriend that acts more like a devotee, but his incapability to understand your emotions really tests you. König doesn’t understand why dates or small things mattered. To him, love is grand and obvious. That’s why he never bothered with the futile things, but wiith your patience, you keep trying to explain. Though it’s always: “Okay, sweetie, I’ll do better next time” with a forehead kiss and luxurious item, but never actual progress. 

So, here you sit, under dim lights when the sound of the hiude being unlocked rang out. Stood there in the entrance was your so-called husband, stunned to see the set-up.

“Hübsch, what’s all this?” König gruffs with a smile, thinking it was for him. 

“Don’t even take a step near me.” 

The cold tone in your voice didn’t go over his head, immediately dropping his bag and coming closer despite your words. 

“What’s wrong?” 

The fucking audacity to even ask. 

“What’s wrong?! You’re really asking me that?!” 

Unable to hold your feelings back, you burst out and the chair clambers back as you stand up. “Do you even know what day it is?” The question hangs in the air and the silence was enough for a reply. “It’s my birthday. My fucking birthday.”

König softens. “Oh, liebe, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow—“

“No! I don’t want another of your fucking pity and unapologetic grand act! I wanted you to be here today, and you couldn’t even show up? I don’t want dinner tomorrow. I wanted us to have dinner tonight with the food I fucking made,” you scream, pushing the dishes down on the floor in anger and letting all the porcelain crash down—along with the pieces of your relationship. 

“Come on. Don’t be angry. I-I’ll be better—“

“It’s always ‘I’ll be better with you’, König.”

Annoyed, König snaps back. “It’s just a day, liebe. Don’t make a scene. You’re blowing this out of proportion,” he growls. 

Your eyes went wild, absolutely seething. There he goes again, dismissing the situation like always. “Just a day?! It’s my fucking day, König! And it doesn’t matter what day it is. I told you this was important to me!! Why can’t you get that through your head?”

“Who cares if I was late to celebrate by a day?!”

“I do! I care! I made all of the food for you!”

Silence envelopes the house and you finally had enough, letting out the words that kept eating you alive for the past few months.  “I wish I never went on that date. It wasn't worth being fucking abducted and ransomed just for a man who can't appreciate the day I was born.”

König’s eyes widened, body stiff as your words pierced his heart. He knew he put you in danger, and he was always shocked when you still decided to be with him. You were the first person to ever accept him like that. To look at him past his face, built, and aura. To stay through his thick and thin. But all this time.. it was your regret all along? All this time you secretly wished you never loved him? Just like that, all the countless nights of worrying and overthinking finally came true for König. Wordlessly, König turns away, slamming the door after him as you’re left standing in the room, the last light of the sand wax fizzles and covers you in darkness. 

You knew you took it a step too far, but… maybe you're just not the person meant for him. Maybe you're not the person who will appreciate König's grand gestures no matter how hurtful it is when he forgets about you. Maybe you're not the person meant to love him, and maybe.. you can live with that. After all, it’s just a day amongst the other 364.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: finally back to writing!! Kinda OOC because I’m not really good with König’s character. Also, you guys should try sand wax candles. They’re so fire (pun intended). Also, addition to the request: 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works: ୭!

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

we're in love - m. murdock

a/n: hi guys not dead just played a LOT of baldurs gate over break and now im back ay college with matt murdock brainrot this ones been floating around the old noggin a while. sorry. likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: DEAD DOVE with a happy ending, hard of hearing reader, cannon typical marvel violence, probably badly written violence, matt being upset, once again im tired and sleepy and bad at doing warnings, reader gets kidnapped TWICE, reader has superpowers, reader is TECHNICALLY a hybrid but literally just in the way that she has small antlers and deer like abilities (strength, jump height), fucked up experiments, ANGST ANGST ANGST, memory loss trope but like... the one from the hunger games. matt is hopelessly in love with reader, reader wants to kill matt, kissing, implied sexual ideas, cursing. SHAMELESS USE OF REAL OR NOT REAL FROM THG, reader having anxiety, and allusions of sex. word count: 7.1k summary: when your past finally catches up to you, matt truly learns what 'in sickness and in health' means. pairing: matt murdock x hoh!wife!reader now playing: we're in love - boygenius "will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/i know what you'll say/but it helps to hear you say it anyway."

Falling in love with Matt Murdock was the easy part.

Falling back in love with him was the tough bit.

You had spent the years leading up to meeting him as a boxer turned vigilante— Your dad had taught you how to fight young, which led to a lot of trouble at school until he eventually started helping you enter teenage fights against your mom’s wishes.

It’s how you paid for college.

And then, after your college experience, you lose control. It was never supposed to happen the way it did. You had lost a fight and stole the guy’s motorcycle in defiance. But the roads were wet from an early snow and people of New York never knew how to drive.

Just like that, the nerves in your hands were shot. The accident got your hearing too since you got sick from the cold after your accident. The infection got so bad that it took the hearing from your left ear—And half from your right.

For months, you thought you’d never gain control of your hands again, snapping from a promising young fighter to a deaf and shaky temp. You were miserable. Fighting was your everything for so long.

And then The Doctor found you.

No, not the alien from the British television show, but a man who promised you your old life back. He found you while you were at your lowest and realized that you would do anything for your old life back.

He said in exchange for your old life, all you would have to do would be a test subject for a harmless new drug he was testing out.

You were so enamored by the idea of your old life that you had decided to take him up on his offer, so you were whisked away upstate with a group of other people desperate enough to try this experiment out.

Every morning you were given a shot of blue liquid into your arm, and then, you were to preform a series of tasks to record your progress. After three weeks you grew frustrated that you had seen no progress. You spent most of your time asking people to talk into your right ear and becoming mad at The Doctor.

About a month in, you started growing antlers.

At first, you freaked out. Like, truly, screamed and yelled, wanting an explanation. The Doctor celebrated, telling you this was great news—And to prove it, he had you pick up a pen and write a sentence out. Your hands didn’t shake and did everything you told them to do.

On top of the antlers and the newfound control of your nerves, you were strong—Fast, too. You could jump twelve-foot walls. The Doctor was obsessed with you. While other patients died off from whatever drugs you were being given, you were thriving.

At the end of your three-month stay, you were excited to leave and head back to your life. You’d just have to wear beanies everywhere to hide your antlers, you told yourself. A small price to pay.

But The Doctor wouldn’t let you leave.

How could he, he asked you, when you were his best test subject?

Being a prisoner was a lot worse than you thought it would be. Day in and day out, you were trained to be a soldier, you think. Fighting various guards, doing different athletic tests. The serum hadn’t fixed your hearing, but it had given you all of these gifts.

Until The Doctor became cruel.

He gave the guards these batons that had shock currents at the end of them, instructing them to use it whenever you talked back or underperformed. For months you struggled through days of electric shocks and experiments.

One night, a guard slipped into your cell, expecting you to be an easy target. You quickly showed him differently, knocking him out and stealing his weapons. And then, you ran. You ran until your feet bled—No shoes.

An old woman who had retired upstate welcomed you into her small cabin and fed you, never asking about the small antlers growing out of your head. She simply gave you a warm knit cap and a pair of boots for the cold.

You remember eating chili with her as she told you about her deceased husband. You changed your last name to theirs, knowing The Doctor would find you if you kept going by your name. You stayed with her for a weekend, coming back from gathering firewood to The Doctor’s men there, having killed the kind old woman and on the hunt for you. You stole her car and never looked back.

The next few weeks after that had been full of killing various soldiers and armies that The Doctor had sent after you, until you eventually pushed The Doctor off a building, believing to have killed him for good.

And that was that.

You went on with your life as usual, finding a permanent job as a secretary. In a law office.

Which, of course, is where you met Matt.

With Matt, you never felt the need to hide who you were. Of course, it was a lot easier to tell him that some mad scientist had infected you with a drug that turned you into a deer hybrid when he told you that he was Daredevil.

And with time, some of the effects of the serum began to fizzle out. Strength, Agility, Antlers—Those stayed. The control over your hands didn’t. But you made peace with that. Physical Therapy twice a week and hearing aids helped.

Especially because early Sunday mornings were filled with Matt running his fingers through your hair, running his pointer finger along the curves of your antlers. He takes your hands and kisses your fingertips as they shake, hushing you softly when you start crying as he does.

He spars with you and spends nights running around New York City with you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

He tells you about Elektra, Stick, his dad, and Fisk.

One day, when you feel safe enough, wrapped up in his arms and a layer of blankets as snow falls against the windows, you tell him about The Doctor.  You explain to him your nightmares, and why they will never go away.

He kisses away your tears and promises he’ll never let anything happen to you.

When he asks you to marry him, you don’t hesitate to say yes. There’s not a moment where you regret that decision. You insist to get married in the summer, during the short month where your antlers shed before they grow back. He agrees happily, just wanting you to be happy.

You’ve been married for about five months when you start to think about kids. You’ve been married six when you realize the worst possible scenario is your reality—When vials of blue serum show up at your front door with a note scribbled out—

‘My Best Test Subject,

I cannot wait to catch up with you soon.

-The Doctor’

You call Matt in a panic, begging him to come home and be with you. He obliges and holds you as you calm down. He promised to love you in sickness and in health, and that is what he fully intends to do.

This is the story of the greatest challenge that your marriage would face.

• • •

After the note you had received, you almost exclusively traveled with Matt. Even for just a casual stroll, a walk to the deli or home from work, He was there with you. He knew you could handle yourself, but you felt safer with him close by.

But Matt’s senses were never as focused when it rained, especially on nights like today. The rain pours, it almost stings against his skin. And it’s loud. You don’t have your hearing aids in, so they catch you both by surprise.

It all happens too fast—

In an instant, Matt is being pulled off your arm and slammed against the closest brick alley, and when he hears the click of a gun behind him, he realizes what’s happening. He tries to fight, but before he can make any process, someone is swinging that gun against his head, and when he wakes up, he’s all alone.

He calls out to you and gets no response other than thunder rumbling from miles away. He is filled with nothing but a rage, a determination to find you.

He scrambles for his phone and uses it to call Karen.

“I need you to get Frank.” He tells her, “Please. I.. I don’t know what happened, but.. He took her, I need.. Karen, I need to find her.” He tells her.

Frank is on his way to New York within the hour.

• • •

When you wake up, your arms are strapped behind your back in some sort of metal contraption. You can feel the ache in your hands, indicating that you had fought against whoever brought you here. The room is quiet. A small cot in one corner, but the rest of the room is barren.

You’re wearing white pants and a gray muscle tee, with no shoes. You’re suddenly thankful you left your wedding ring at home, so that it might not end up in his hands.

You wait a while, and then the door opens. The Doctor, flanked by two men in heavy armor, holding those batons you’re all too acquainted with, steps into the room. You simply stare, but The Doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning.

But there’s something else to his appearance. His left eye is this bright yellow, and his pupil is a different shape. Green scales travel up his neck and coat the bottom right half of his face, and down his arms, reaching his fingertips. He looks like a monster, but you quickly realize what has happened.

Whatever serum gave you your abilities, was given to him. Only, his was made from that of snakes, not deer.

“My beautiful creation!” He gasps and takes your face in his hand, planting a kiss to your head, right between your antlers. “It’s been too long, you know.” His ‘s’ sounds are elongated, and his teeth are sharper. He has become destroyed by his own mad endeavors. When you don’t respond to his greeting, he continues to speak. “It’s been an eventful few years for you, huh?” When this doesn’t get a response from you, he stands up straight and backs up just a foot. “New job, new name… New husband.” Your head snaps up at that. “What? You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and the boy? What do you call him, then? Matthew or Daredevil?”

Your eyes grow wide, unsure how he knows about your husband’s secret hobby.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit, your gaze hardening into a glare.

“Don’t I? You make quite the couple. The little deaf doe and her crime fighting blind husband.” He laughs, “And they say I like a project.”

“You won’t touch him or I swear to god—”

“Little doe, you misunderstand. I want nothing to do with your husband. I just want you to be the good subject I know you can be.” He tells you. “You and I are the only of our kind. I want to study you, replicate you.”

“You’re going to kidnap more people.”

“You weren’t kidnapped, you volunteered.”

“I won’t do whatever it is you want me to do.” You tell him. “I don’t care, I will escape, I will kill you.”

He shakes his head, taking one of the batons from the guards, before hitting you across the face with it. You groan in pain, turning your head back to glare at him. He sighs.

“I didn’t want to have to do this. But I did anticipate that Husband of yours interrupting things.” He hands the baton back to the guard before telling him. “Take her down the hall and get her ready, alright?”

You struggle your way down the hall, refusing to do whatever is coming to you without a fight. When the guards uncuff you to strap you to this big dentist looking chair, you manage to get out of the grasp of the guard, swinging a punch on him but this newfound advantage is short lived, as the other guard quickly grabs your arms and pushes you against the chair. You’re yelling and thrashing but they manage to get your arms and legs strapped down to the chair.

Your heartbeat is racing, and quietly, only in your mind, you beg. But not for mercy. Not from The Doctor. You beg Matt to come find you. Because you know that you do not stand a chance on your own, but maybe he could find you. He had to find you.

The Doctor sits in a chair next to you and holds up a small purple vial.

“This is hallucinogenic snake venom, mixed with a duller version of the serum we gave you. What this will do is allow me to go into your memories and alter them.” He explains as if you’re getting a simple procedure done. Tears fill your eyes.

“You’re going to make me forget him?” You ask, your voice breaking.

The Doctor hushes you softly, wiping your tears softly.

“Oh, no, little doe. I’m going to change what you do remember about him to make you hate him.”

• • •

Six months is a long time to be without your wife. For anyone, no matter who it is.

For Matt Murdock, it’s absolute torture. He spends all day half paying attention to his work while trying to research who The Doctor is. He spends all night trying to find you.

Frank lives, breathes, eats and sleeps to find you. He’s still technically a wanted man, so he pretty much stays under the radar as he looks for you. You remind him of a lot of guys he knew in the army, of himself.

Karen busies herself with research, looking through cases of old files at The Bulletin to try and see if there are any tips or stories that could maybe be connected to where you are. She gets about as little sleep as Matt.

And Foggy has the most important job of all.

Making sure Matt doesn’t kill himself in the process of trying to find you. Because for the first two months Matt didn’t sleep, hardly ate. And as he deteriorated, Foggy reminded him that to find you, he’d need to stay alive. He needs to shower, he needs to keep going to church, he needs to keep eating. The thought of hearing your heartbeat again keeps him going.

It’s as they’re packing up to go home one night that Frank comes into the office with blood-stained hands. They all know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something, so Karen asks first.

“What? What is it?”

“Buddy of mine found a file. Some private medicinal corporation funding a project for some sort of doctor doing cancer research, upstate.”

The location peaks Matt’s interest, because one of the few things he knows of your first experience is that the lab was in upstate New York.

“Okay, but—” Karen starts, but Frank hands her the file.

“Report shows the guy had scales.” He told her. “And I don’t know what you guys make of that but sounds to me like a side effect similar to the serum that was given to her.”

“Where?” Matt asks.

“Red, just—”

“Give me a god damn address, Frank.” He demands.

“I’ll drive you. Come on, things are probably gonna get wild and I don’t want you going alone.” He told him. Matt agrees, but only because he knows he can’t drive and would wind up walking to you.

“Then let’s go.” Before Frank can argue, Matt is walking out the door and going to get suited up for the journey ahead.

• • •

Daredevil is my enemy.

Matt Murdock hates me.

I hate him.

We were never really in love with each other.

These are the thoughts that echo through your mind as you wait for your next round of testing. The six-month mark is pivotal, The Doctor tells you time and time again.

Overall, you’ve made tremendous progress. He tells you that within weeks, other serums will be ready to test on new subjects. Maybe then, he tells you, he’ll promote you from just being a soldier.

Maybe.

You almost don’t hear the alarm going off somewhere in the distance. Of course, you don’t. The serum has never helped your hearing.

The way you remember it, Daredevil, a man who once claimed to love you, fought you to the point that he destroyed the nerves in your hands, destroyed your hearing. It’s fuzzy now, but you know this: The Doctor helped you. He put you back together.

But you do hear the alarm, eventually. It concerns you; it means someone has broken into the building. Your thoughts linger on the masked vigilante that haunts your nightmare. You’re getting stronger to defeat him, The Doctor says.

It’s a cool summer night when whoever it is broke in, breaks down your door. You immediately stand, quickly identifying Frank Castle, a grin breaking across your face. Closely behind, you identify a man in red.

Your heartbeat races, but you just stare at the pair.

Matt strips off his helmet and approaches you, wanting to make sure this was real. That you were real. His hands find your cheeks, and tears fill his eyes. He says your name gently.

“I found you, I’ve got you…”

You blink, unsure of what sort of cruel teasing that was.

Because in an instant, your glare hardens and you’re pushing him against a wall, starting to throw punches at him. He’s too far in shock to react, but Frank is pulling you off of him, and you’re struggling against him.

“Let me go! I need to kill him! He’s evil, he needs to die!” You cry, and Matt is just saying your name softly, in absolute disarray. What had they done to you, his sweet girl?

Frank pins you down to the ground, unsure of why you, a woman he had perceived to be so in love with the man behind him, are so adamant that he dies.

“Enough, Enough!” He barks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at Matt. “That is your husband, girl. Stop acting like he’s torturing you when he is not the one whose been experimenting on you for six months!”

“Let me go, I need him gone! He’s cruel, He’s a monster!” You cry, and Matt has started crying. Putting you both out of your misery, Frank hits you in a way that knocks you right out. Matt goes over to your now unconscious form and pets your hair.

“Why was she—”

“I don’t know.. I just don’t know, red. Let’s get her out of here to figure it out, okay?” Matt just nods and grabs his helmet, slipping it on so Frank can’t see him crying anymore.

• • •

If you had a nickel for every time you woke up tied to a chair, you’d have more nickels than you had fingers.

Today is no different.

You’re surrounded by people you don’t recognize. And one you do. Your angry glare stays on him, and he looks upset by it.

You’re unsure why. You’re so sure he just wanted you dead.

The blonde woman in front of you says your name softly. When your gaze shifts to her, you notice her soft eyes.

“How do you know my name?” You ask.

She frowns.

“It—Because we’re good friends.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t… My name is Karen.” She says softly. She goes over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a picture frame and showing it to you. “Here, that’s you and me. At your wedding.”

“My wedding? The one that he set up just to hurt me?”

Matt remembers you telling him that you had never been happier than when you were getting ready for your wedding.

There’s two other men, one held you down while you were meant to kill Matt, but the other one.. You vaguely remember him standing next to Matt when you got married.

He speaks next.

“Matt and Frank, they found these vials in one of the labs. We think the man that took you used it to... to alter your memories.”

“Why would The Doctor do that? He helped me.” You tell them, unsure what to make of this whole situation. Matt is growing extremely frustrated because he knows just how scared you were of that monster.

“Untie her.” Matt tells Frank, and everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Including you because you know that you’ll just try and kill him. “Do it,” he tells him again and very hesitantly, Frank does untie you. When you’re free from the rope, you step forward to go towards Matt, but Frank grabs your arm.

“Don’t,” he says. But then, Matt reaches for Frank’s gun on the nearby table and hands it to you. Odd choice for a man you want to kill.

“Go ahead.” He tells you, facing you now. “Shoot me, kill me if that’s what you really want to do.” He says. You stare at the gun in your hand for a second, before holding it properly and aiming it at Matt. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what you’ll do.

Pull the trigger, you tell yourself, The Doctor’s voice echoing around your head. He hurt you, the voice says. He needs to die.

And yet, you just stare at the man on the other end of the gun, trying to build up the courage to kill him. To kill the man that for months you have been taught needs to die. That you have memories of hurting you, of maiming you.

Your hand tremors as tears fill your eyes, until you eventually drop your arm, so the gun isn’t pointing at him anymore.

“Look at the photo of you and Karen,” Matt tells you, “You have hearing aids in the photo. I didn’t do that to you, you got into a bad accident, you got sick and that’s how you lost your hearing. I had nothing to do with that. You even had your powers before me, you didn’t just get them in the past six months. The Doctor is an evil man who just wanted to torture people and turn them into science experiments.” He tells you, and you want to tell him to stop, that it’s not true. But something in you tells you not to. “I love you,” he says gently, and you flinch away from him when he says this.

It breaks his heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shatters it.

“I don’t know you.” You tell him.

Sensing that Matt doesn’t know what to say to that, Frank steps forward.

“Hey. I’m Frank, you remember me?”

“You pinned me down when you found me.” He sighs softly.

“Yeah, well.. You have memories of when the two of you got married, right? So those are real memories… What about the ones of him hurting you? Do they look any different?”

You take a moment to close your eyes and really focus on the memory you have so closely attached to the man in red. They’re.. Filmy. Like they have a filter on them or like glass shimmering in the sun.

Tears fall from your eyes as you open them, your hand quickly coming up to wipe your tears.

“I think we did enough for now.. She needs to rest.” The man whose name you don’t know, but he has this shaggy blonde hair. Then this question comes up in everyone’s mind—Where will you stay?

“I’ll take the couch,” Matt says, “You take the bed.” You don’t know how comfortable you are with being alone with Matt in this apartment, even if the memories are fake. They feel pretty real.

“I don’t know if—” Karen starts.

“I.. It’s fine..” you say softly, and that fills Matt with a fraction of hope. “It’s just over night.”

Frank sighs softly, taking his gun off the table and glancing at Matt.

“We’re only a phone call away, alright?” Karen tells him.

It feels sort of awkward that they only talk to him as if you can’t hear them. Well, you can’t hear them very well, but you can hear.

“There’s clothes for you in the bedroom,” Matt tells you, “Go take a shower and I’ll walk them to the door.” Very reluctant to turn your back on Matt, you make your way to the bedroom to gather your clothes and go to shower.

You really haven’t had a good shower in six months, so it’s nice to wash the dirt off your skin and from beneath your fingernails. You spend a long time under the hot shower, letting it burn your skin. Your whole life has been turned upside down because you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Matt Murdock isn’t your sworn enemy, and that maybe.. he just.. does like you..

Meanwhile, Matt walks the others out, or at least to the door, hesitant to go too far from you.

Foggy glances back to him before he leaves, curiously.

“How did you know she wouldn’t shoot you?”

He hesitates.

“I didn’t.” he says softly. “I just trusted that somewhere within her, my wife still loves me.”

• • •

Later that night, you stare out the window of his apartment at that bright billboard. You gaze at it curiously, and hear Matt call your name gently behind you. In his hands, he holds your hearing aids.

You put them on, and just look at him for a few minutes.

“You kept them?”

“I never stopped looking for you..” He told you. “I prayed every night hoping to hear your heartbeat again.” He tells you, and you don’t know what to make of it. He seems so devoted to you, yet you have these memories of him beating you until you’re close to death.

“I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you the way you want me to be.”

He shrugs gently.

“In sickness and in health, right?”

“And in torture and memory alteration.”

“Same thing.”

For the first time in six months, you smile.

Maybe your husband isn’t such a bad guy.

You can only hope he’ll love you long enough for you to get your shit together and not want to kill him anymore.

• • •

Memories are a tricky thing.

You decide to spend your days with Frank, hunting down various people who worked with The Doctor. You talk a lot about your memories with him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, you have dinner with Matt.

One night, he brings home Thai Food.

“We had this for our first date,” he recalls. “You got pad Thai, your favorite.” You try to recall the memory.

“You wore a nice blue button up, right?” You say softly. He smiles gently and nods.

“Yeah. I did.” He says gently.

“Can..” You hesitate. “Can you tell me more about it? Our life together? I can’t.. discern between what’s real and fabricated.” You’re making new memories, sure, but you know he misses the life the two of you had together.

But he’s caught off guard by your request. For the past few weeks, you’ve been hesitant to indulge in any memories you think might be real.

“You used to work for me.” He tells you. “Not in a weird way, but our office is small. We fell in love over Thai food and opening statements.”

“Why did you want to marry me?”

He hesitates for a second, not wanting to scare you off.

“Because I love you.” He tells you. “Because when you were with me, it was the closest thing I’d ever knew to peace.” He confesses.

“Oh..”

“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his food. “You know if you have a memory and you don’t know if it’s real, you can always ask.”

You smile softly.

“Thanks.” There’s a soft silence that fills the room before you ask, “I have this memory of us in bed, with you running your hand through my hair.. Your fingers tracing these antlers I have.. Is that real?”

“Yeah, it is..” He promised. “I have a thing about textures and your hair is soft.”

“I’m glad.” You smile. This is nice. This gentleness that’s between you. It’s a softness you aren’t used to, one that you don’t know if you’d ever quite get used to.

Later that night, when you were meant to be fast asleep, you wake up with a startling gasp in bed. You look around panicked. You don’t quite know who you’re looking for..

Until Matt comes into the room, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and this calmness washes over you.

“Yeah..”

“Okay. Okay, good, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He says softly. He’s been so good to you, sleeping on the couch for so many weeks. He goes to leave, but you call out to him. He turns back to you.

“Can you stay with me?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course.” He says softly, climbing into bed with you. You think for a second, before shifting a bit, resting your head against his chest. You listen to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, as his hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He isn’t dumb—He knows you have nightmares. And that on the nights that you do, you’re quieter and more avoidant of him. It’s a bad habit, one you want to break. Because you recognize that your dreams aren’t real.

Matt has never done anything to you, and you’re sure of this.. For the most part. Sometimes when you wake up, you must reorient yourself and remind yourself that Matt has no malicious intent towards you and no reason to hurt you.

But it takes you a few minutes to accomplish this. On those mornings, you tend to keep your distance from him, and because Matt wants nothing but your happiness, he stays away from you. But tea is always placed in front of you, and he never strays far from you.

“Not really.” You finally answer. There’s another beat of silence. “We went as the couple from The Princess Bride for our first Halloween together.. Real or not real?”

“Real.” He confirms.

“You broke my nose once during an argument. Real or not real?”

“Not real.” He tells you. “I would never hurt you. Even when we used to fight at the gym, it was always for practice, never to do actual damage. And when we would spar, it would always end with us going home and taking a hot bath.”

You close your eyes, trying to recall that particular memory. When you find it, your face flushes with this unfamiliar heat.

“You’re still trying to protect me even though I wanted you dead... Real or not real?”

“Real.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but he’d rather die than put you anywhere close to being in danger. His hand continues to trace patterns into your skin, as you think about his response.

You fall asleep like this, close to the man who you’re realizing has never intended to hurt you a day in your life.

• • •

The day you realize you’re in love with your husband is horrifying.

Which seems like a crazy accusation to make, and yet, you feel nothing but horror when you realize that you are desperate for him. Which is insane, because you’ve been living with him for two months when you realize you are desperate to kiss him like you’re drowning and need air.

It happens at the office. You decided to cook, because you remember really liking it, and to say thank you for all he’s done for you, you want to bring lunch to Matt at work. So you make this really delicious chicken pesto pasta, and you pick up sodas to go along with it. Matt gets the following text:

‘Your favorite soda is Dr. Pepper. Real or not real?’

Five minutes later, you get a response.

‘Real. Yours is sprite.’

You pick up a bottle of each and head over to his office. You’ve been there a few times before, but mostly it was because Frank needed to talk to Karen about something, but lately you’ve found yourself wanting to go to the office just to see Matt.

Matt is surprised when he hears the familiar beat of your heart on the other side of the door. He can also hear the slight buzz of your hearing aids.

“Sweetheart, you can come in.” He calls, but you hesitate even further. Not because you’re confused as to why he knows it’s you, but because your brain sort of short circuits when he calls you the pet name. But after a few minutes, you walk into the room and place lunch on his desk, as well with your drinks.

“Do you like pesto?”

“We had pesto pasta at our wedding.” Oh.

“So you do?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially the way you make it.”

“Oh, good.” You smile and sit at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Because I made chicken pesto pasta for lunch and figured you might want some.”

“Well, thank you for thinking of me.”

There’s a quiet calm between the two of you.

“This is a pretty killer first date, huh?” This makes Matt laugh, because in his mind, your first date was eating Thai food and listening to music. But this isn’t bad either.

“Well, Chivalry must be dead then, because I didn’t even buy you flowers.” He hums, and you tilt your head.

“I don’t remember you ever buying me flowers.” He frowns at this.

“Well, I’m going to have to fix that.”

And that’s how the afternoon goes. You sit with Matt in his office, eating a homemade chicken pasta and falling in love with him. As you go to leave, he asks you what you have planned for the day.

“I have some errands to run, but I should be home to make dinner.” And for a moment, Matt forgets all that’s happened, and he lets himself believe that you have all your memories of him perfectly intact and no one’s ever made you think otherwise.

You get back to the apartment a few hours later, and just as you’re unpacking your groceries, there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, a delivery man stands with a bouquet of flowers. Your face is warm as you sign off on them.

As you put them in their vase, you notice a note attached to it. You catch yourself grinning as you read his little note, that reads ‘I’ll buy you flowers until I’m old and wrinkly. Real.’

The urge to run back to the office and kiss him overwhelms you.

So you call Frank.

This leads to the pair of you, sitting at a booth in a diner, nursing coffees and toast.

“I hope you didn’t call me here just to complain about married life.” He tells you, making a joke out of the thing that terrifies you.

“No, I just wanted you to sit here talking to a chick with antlers so you can look like more of a freak than you already are.” You tease.

It gets you both laughing. These moments, in between all the nightmares and all of the filmy memories, fill you with a light you can’t quite describe.

“So, why’d you really call me to meet up?” He asks. “I have to assume you don’t just want to chitchat.”

“I think I’m in love with Matt.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow.

“What? Why does that sound like you think it’s a problem?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You confess. “It’s like I don’t want to love him, like a part of me still believes he’s the bad guy. I know he does.. Besides, I was so awful to him for so long. I pointed a gun at him and he still comforts me every night. What if I don’t deserve this?” You ask. “What if I don’t deserve him?”

Frank actually laughs—Okay, not like a giggle or a belly laugh, but it gets a good chuckle out of him.

“You and Red with that shit—Questioning if you’ve done enough for something good to happen to you. With the ‘Do I deserve this?’ and the ‘Am I worthy of this?” He shakes his head. “All that shit is irrelevant. Do you want it? Do you want to be with him?”

Tears fill your eyes as you realize what that means.

“You and him, you love each other like breathing, and I know you don’t quite get that yet, but it’s the same reason you didn’t shoot him that day. Something in you knows that you love him and deserve his love.” Frank is speaking from experience, because he knows that no matter what he’s done, he knows he deserves one more kiss from his wife.

But he’ll never get that chance.

He hopes Matt does.

• • •

It takes you a long time to make your way back to the apartment. When you get there, Matt immediately stands from his place on the couch and has this look of concern etched across his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks gently, “Your heart is racing, I just want to make sure you’re safe and—"

“I’m fine.” You smile gently. “Really, I… Thank you for the flowers.” You tell him. His face softens.

“You like them?”

“I love them, Matt.” You confess. “I’ve spent.. So long trying to rationalize everything, sort out the real things from the things that aren’t..” You’re not too sure what you’re trying to say. “I just.. I want.. I want to try. I want to try and be with you, I’m ready for that. I’m ready to be happy with you..”

He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want you, but he is worried that you’re only saying these things because you feel like you might owe him. You don’t. You don’t owe him anything other than what you want to give him, and he is desperate for you to know that.

“Sweetheart, You don’t.. I don’t need.. I don’t need you to pretend like you want me just because I’ve taken care of you. It’s more than enough to just—”

Matt is cut off by his first kiss from you in eight months. Your hands rest on the sides of his cheeks, and his arms are quickly around your torso. The kiss is passionate but soft at first—Until you push deeper, desperate to be as close as you can to him. Your hand even comes up to pull off his glasses to see his eyes.

Without thinking, you pull away from him only for your hand to come down to the hem of his shirt, going to pull it off.

“Off, off, off, off—” You softly request, and he just laughs, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Stop. Wait.” He says gently. “I just.. I want to make sure you actually want this.. That you really want me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been reserved for the past two months, rightfully so, but now you want to sleep with me.. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Or something you do just because you feel lonely or bad that I—” You cut him off with another kiss, breaking it shortly after.

“I want you. I want to rebuild my life with you. I want to create new, untainted memories.. It won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.” You confess. “I want countless summer nights, I want you to be there for all the nightmares, I.. I want to give you the same peace you’ve been trying to give me.”

You’re both crying and you don’t quite know why. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold band. He slips it onto your fingers and kisses you again. He holds the hand with your wedding ring on it as he leads you into the bedroom. Into your life together. Into your arms. Where you were meant to be.

The next morning, you lay in the quiet of your apartment, the silk sheets tickling your skin. You focus on Matt’s breathing. He traces patterns into your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, and he takes a moment to answer.

“You.” He says gently. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about for three years.” He says gently. Then, when you don’t say anything, “Our anniversary was two months ago..” You know he misses the life you could have had together.

The life that he had planned out for the pair of you in his head. The life that oh so quietly, he longs for. The one without nightmares, supplemented by the laughter of any potential children you might have.

“I could get used to thinking about you, too, you know.” And it makes him laugh, as you lean up and bite his shoulder gently, before placing a kiss to that same patch of skin. He swats your arm gently before the pair of you break down into giggles.

“In the future, if you ever.. don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” You tell him.

A comfortable silence fills the air again.

“I’m so happy you came back to me.” He says gently. “I was.. I spent so long worried that.. that we’d spend years just trying to find our footing again. That you wouldn’t get better..” For the second time tonight, you cut off his overthinking with a kiss.

“I love you.” You tell him when you’re finally ready to pull away. The morning light shines into the apartment, giving Matt this glowing effect. He practically shimmers in the golden light, and you just take a moment to commit the look of him to memory.

You try and take your time, studying him. He’s so beautiful this time of day.

“Real or not real?” He asks you softly, as one hand snakes up to your hair, his fingers gently running through it.

You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.

“Real.”

[hwaslayer]

project: make you love me (jyh) | seventeen.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.4k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, flashback scene btwn yuyu & oc, anxiety & overthinking, some crying, [very soft and lazy] unprotected makeup sex <33

Yunho sighs as he pours some hot water into his cup, dipping the tea bag into the scorching hot water a few times before letting it settle. He stands near the balcony door of the apartment, blinds raised so he can watch the rain and wind from inside.

"Jeez, it's fucking crazy outside." Yunho turns over his shoulder to Yeosang, who is getting ready to make some ramen. "And it's freezing."

"Yeah, it is. Such a random storm." Yunho sips on his tea.

"Why are you acting like such an old man right now?" Yunho lets out a chuckle at the remark. "Have you talked to Y/N?"

"No, not yet." He sighs, making his way to the kitchen island to talk to Yeosang more closely.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I was gonna ask her to come over but it's raining like crazy. I'll probably wait till it dies down."

"Your hand doing okay?" Yeosang nods at his hand, making Yunho flash it his way. "Hm. Bruising has gone down. He deserved that shit."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, not to play devil's advocate at the wrong time, but I truly don't think Y/N meant to hurt you."

"I know. I just—" He sighs again and shakes his head. "He pissed me off. I didn't wanna take it out on her. Truthfully, I wasn't really over it until.. probably this morning." Yunho shrugs.

"Yeah, I get that."

"It's not her. It's him. Fucking can't stand him. I hope he gets the picture now because I'm not going anywhere."

"And you shouldn't. He'd be stupid to keep testing you. I'm sure that was more than enough for him to realize."

"Yeah, I don't know. Whatever. Just keep him the fuck away from me." Yunho subtly rolls his eyes. "I miss her, though. I know she wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

"She's a good person. It's very clear she feels the same exact way for you as you do for her." Yunho traces the rim of his cup, missing your kisses and your company terribly, even though it's really only been a full day since you two last talked.

"I really love that girl." He lets out a small chuckle. "Like.. really love her."

"Cute." Yeosang smiles as he pours the hot water into his ramen cup. "You finally gonna say it to her once you two talk?"

"Probably, yeah." He looks at Yeosang. "It's crazy to me. I wasn't expecting anything out of this when I started helping her with her lit assignments. Now, I can't even picture my days without her."

"You should text her."

"I will, once the weather calms down a bit."

"What do your plans with her look like after graduation?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I mean, obviously, I'll always be here to support her and I'll try to stay close as much as possible. But, eventually, I do wanna settle in a job and make enough for us to move in together."

"Wow, really?" Yunho nods. "You see your life with her?"

"Does it sound weird to say that?"

"No, not at all."

"I just wanna be able to come home to her and spend time with her." Yunho sips his tea, the sound of the harsh wind and tree branches hitting the window slightly startling the both of them.

"Damn. Yeah, probably good to just wait until the weather settles down." Yeosang flips the lid to his ramen and starts stirring the noodles around. "Wanna hop on a game?"

"Yeah, sure." Yunho chuckles, standing to make his way to his room and play for a bit.

Meanwhile, you've tossed and turned on your bed, unsure of what to do with yourself for the day. Chaery sat at her desk, studying with her headphones on; prepping for a big test coming up in the following week. It was probably the third [or fourth] time you've scrolled through your phone in the past 5 minutes, finding ways to distract yourself even though you were only waiting to see if Yunho would text.

He didn't though.

The last text he sent was his response to you yesterday morning after the whole squabble with Seonghwa, a quick little—

you: goodmorning yunho, have a good day today 💕

yunho: you too, y/n.

The dry, sad response is enough to trigger that awful feeling in your stomach— enough for you to toss your phone and lay on your side, hoping everything could just wash over and pass.

♣︎ FLASHBACK

"Have you seen Yunho today?" You shake your head.

"No. I feel like he's just avoiding me right now." You say with your head hung low.

"Babe, he's not avoiding you. You're his girlfriend."

"Then, why does it feel that way? Usually he'd try to come see me and send me off before class or something. He hasn't even texted me after I said 'good morning' and 'have a good day.'"

"Maybe he really just needs time to get over it, Y/N." Chaery adds as you two continue to walk towards the library. "I mean.. think about it. He stumbled upon you two and suddenly found himself in a fight with your crazy ex-fling. Plus, this was also his way of finding out about the bouquet. It's probably so overwhelming and frustrating, mainly because of Seonghwa. I get him. I wouldn't wanna talk to my girlfriend while I'm still upset because I know I'd probably say things I'd regret."

"Mmyeah.." Is all you say. The moment you take the last few steps up to the library, Yunho is exiting and comes through the door. You stop in your tracks as your eyes land on him, a sad, sympathetic look captured on your face.

You are so, so beautiful. Yunho feels like you'll be the death of him one day.

He almost makes it visibly known how much you've caught him off guard. He swallows the lump in his throat and walks over— one hand in his pant pocket, the other hanging onto the backpack strap.

"Hey." Is all he says before giving you a one-armed [tight] hug.

"Hey babe." 

"Yuyu, my favorite person in the entire planet!" Chaery gives him a playful little punch on the arm, making him chuckle. "Y/N, I'll wait for you inside, okay?" She gives you a reassuring smile before leaving you and Yunho.

"Off to class?" You stupidly ask already knowing his schedule, but he nods anyway.

"Yeah. Did you sleep okay?" He brushes the hair away from your face.

"I don't know."

"Yeah, same." He sighs.

"Should we talk then?"

"Not now." He doesn't mean to sound mean or dismissive, but he truly doesn't think he has it in him to talk properly about this yet. "Just not ready to yet. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I understand." You feel the tears well up in your eyes, causing you to shift your attention elsewhere to prevent them from falling.

"Hey." Yunho pulls you in for a hug. "We'll talk about it soon. Promise." He kisses the top of your head before letting you go. "Have a good rest of your day, okay?"

"You too." You give him a small, tight-lipped smile before watching him walk past you to his next class— your heart dropping, cracks slowly breaking at the surface.

You missed him, and you were only hoping it'd get better from here. You were ready to move past this.

All of this.

♣︎ END

Your bottom lip trembles as you stand and throw on Yunho's hoodie, slipping the hood over your head before wiping away at the residual tears streaming down your cheeks. You understood Yunho needed time, but you couldn't wait another day of not talking to him.

Not hugging him.

Cuddling him.

Kissing him.

You missed Yunho, and you were afraid he was realizing he didn't feel the same— that maybe, this was the way it would all slowly fizzle out. That maybe, this didn't turn out to be what he expected or wanted. Every minute you continued to overthink made you more and more anxious. You couldn't sit this one out anymore. Not any longer. 

"Babe, where are you going?" You pop into the room after a quick bathroom break, fixing your pajamas onto the edge of your bed while Chaery continues to sit at her desk. "It's literally storming outside."

"I need to talk to Yunho." She looks at you worriedly, turning her chair towards you completely. 

"Love. I know. I know you wanna talk to him, but don't you think you should wait until the storm passes?"

"It's just across the lot."

"Still. It's kinda crazy out there."

"Chaery, I need to talk to him. I can't let another day pass. I won't." You murmur as you grab a pair of sneakers. "I'll be back, okay?" She sighs.

"Just be careful, please. I really don't want you to get sick or anything."

"I know. I'll be careful." You give her a tiny smile before heading towards the door.

"Um, please tell me you aren't actually going out there right now?" Seungmin asks with a brow cocked up as he stands in the kitchen. You slip into your shoes and slightly tilt your head, meeting his gaze.

"I really need to talk to Yunho."

"Do you want me to walk you over there? It's super windy and raining like crazy."

"It's okay."

"Sure? Take an umbrella."

"I'll run over."

"Please don't get sick. I seriously can walk you over just to be your umbrella dude."

"I promise I'll be okay, Seungmo. Thank you. I'll be fast as lightning speed." 

"Alright. Be safe. I hope it goes well. I'm sure he misses you, too." You give him a small smile before heading out. As soon as you head out of the front door, the gusty wind hits you, along with the rain slapping you along the side of your face. You pull Yunho's hood a little more over your head, clinching it at the neck to keep it tight. No matter what you do, or how fast you run to his building, you're still being rained on like crazy.

Yunho's hoodie and your sweats are soaked, and you hate the feeling of damp clothes against your skin. But, you needed to do this.

You needed to see him.

You shakily bring your phone up to your ear after dialing his number, sweater paws wiping away at your nose and cheeks. 

"Y/N?"

"Yunho."

"You okay?"

"I'm outside your door."

"You're what? Why did you come here when it's storming like shit outside?" You can hear him shuffling towards the door, hands quick to unlock it. He sees you and his heart instantly shatters into pieces. You're in his hoodie, wet from the rain; random strands of hair sticking to your face. Your grey sweats have traces of the rain scattered on all sides, and god, Yunho wants to embrace you and hold you so badly. "Y/N." He says, almost disappointingly as he grabs at your hand to bring you inside. "Why would you do that?"

"I had to see you and talk to you." You look at him, bottom lip trembling again as you hold back your tears. He clicks his teeth before leading you into the room. He quickly grabs a change of clothes for you before handing it over and nodding towards the bathroom.

"You should get comfy first." You silently nod, taking the clothes in your hands before waddling to the bathroom. You strip out of his clothes and hop into the shower for a quick wash-up, his freshly laundered clothes feeling good against your skin afterwards.

When you get into Yunho's room, he's slouched on his computer chair while pressing away on the controller resting against his lap. He turns towards you when he hears you drop the clothes into his hamper, pausing his current game and setting the controller aside.

"Hope you don't mind me throwing those into your hamper."

"Course not." He sits on the edge on his bed, watching as you sit next to him. "What's going on?"

"Yunho, I'm really sorry. I know you needed time and everything, but I couldn't stand us not talking to each other and being awkward after everything. It's my fault. I should've just told you about them in the first place, I don't know why I hesitated." You're crying now, and Yunho melts. He knows you're sincerely sorry, and he knows you would never intentionally hurt him. Truly, he meant to take this time just to let his anger for Seonghwa pass. He didn't wanna let that bleed onto you, nor did you deserve that, so he wanted to make sure he was completely over it before anything. He was gonna text you today and ask you to come over, but he waited because of the rain. He should've known you wouldn't have cared, though. "It was so, so stupid. But, I didn't mean any of it. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry, I—" You continue to go on through your crying, but Yunho gently shushes you and pulls you onto his lap.

"Hey, come here. Don't cry. It's okay."

"No, it's not." You pout.

"Baby." He gives off a tiny chuckle before wiping your tears and kissing your forehead. "I know you're sorry, okay? I really just needed the time to make sure I was over it. I didn't want to accidentally take out my anger on you or do anything stupid when you don't deserve it. That's all. I was gonna ask you to come by today, but it started raining." He lets out a breath. "Should've known you wouldn't have cared though, hm?" You shake your head. "No more crying."

"I just want us to be okay. I didn't mean to hurt you, Yuyu."

"I know you didn't. We're okay. I'm not upset with you."

"Are you sure?" He pauses just as he looks at you, thumb coming to caress the surface of your cheek before coming down to your bottom lip. 

"Well, why don't you just be mine, hm? Just like I am for you. How does that sound?"

"Wouldn't want it any other way." Yunho chuckles and kisses you on the tip of your nose. You instantly wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly while still on his lap, taking in all of him while he gently rubs at your back. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." Your hands are resting at the nape of his neck, fingers gently threading through the ends of his hair. Yunho's hands are slowly rubbing at your sides, the warmth of his hands transferring onto the surface of your bare skin.

"Can I see your hand?" He chuckles a bit and raises his hand in front of you, knuckles still slightly reddish-purple in hue from the punch.

"It's fine." You give him a look before planting soft kisses at his knuckles, turning his palm upward to place some kisses there. 

"Yunho?"

"Mhm?"

"I love you." His eyes widen a bit as his mind registers what you just said. His lips turn upward into a smile, planting a chaste kiss to yours before responding with a—

"I love you too, baby." He kisses you again, smiling against your lips. "Can you promise me one other thing?"

"Hm?"

"Please don't trek over here when it's raining like this outside. I don't want you to get sick."

"It's just across the lot."

"Promise me." He furrows his brows ever so slightly to get his point across.

"Fine." You pout.

"Say it."

"I promise." You say in a somewhat whiny tone, making Yunho let out a small laugh. 

"You're such a brat."

"Mm, but you just said you love this brat."

"Yeah." He bites onto his bottom lip. "I do. I really do." You giggle, kissing him once more. Though Yunho has always been affectionate and vocal about his feelings for you, his next action is unexpected and catches you a bit off guard. He simply rests his head against your chest and holds you tightly, breathing regularly as his fingers gently rub circles on your sides. He doesn't say anything, causing you to look down at him and wonder if he's truly okay.

"What's wrong?" You ask while wrapping your arms around him, fingers massaging at his scalp.

"I just want you to be honest with me. I don't want you to feel scared about coming to me about these things because I'm with you, not against you." He responds softly, cheek still pressed against your chest. "That goes to say that I would never do anything to jeopardize this. I don't wanna lose you." He looks up at you with those puppy dog eyes and you can't help but release a shaky sigh. Your lips fold into a small frown as you cup his cheek, shaking your head at the statement.

"You could never do anything to jeopardize this, Yunho. I'm not going anywhere. This was my fault, and I'm sorry for not coming to you sooner about this. I promise I'll be better. I know you're here for me, and I know you would never do anything to hurt me either."

"Can you tell me? Honestly. Do you miss anything about Seonghwa?"

"No, I could never. It was so stupid and I didn't mean to mislead or confuse you. I could never go back to that. I don't want to. All I want is you."

"Okay." Is all he responds with. "I feel the same way. You mean a lot to me, Y/N. I mean that more than anything."

"I know, Yunho. I feel the same way." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile before releasing his arms from around you.

"Wanna lay down and take a nap with me?"

"That sounds really nice right now." You smile as you hop off his lap and settle into the sheets. Yunho shuts off his computer, the only sounds echoing in the room is the strong wind hitting the window, rain splattering against the glass. He slips under the covers, pulling you close to him to keep you warm. His fingers start threading through your hair as you quietly look up at him; no words being exchanged in this very moment.

"Sleepy?" Yunho breaks the silence with a soft question.

"No. I just like it when you play with my hair." You shut your eyes in satisfaction.

"Of course." Yunho kisses your forehead before moving down to the tip of your nose.

Lips.

Chin.

"I thought you wanted to nap?" You subtly bite onto your bottom lip when Yunho leaves sweet kisses on the edge of your jaw and neck.

"I do." He says in between kisses, tongue soothing the surface of your neck after little nibbles.

"This doesn't look like a nap to me."

"No, but we'll definitely take one after." He smirks against your skin, hands roaming up your shirt. He squeezes your side before his hand moves up to your breast— playing with your nipple before giving your boob a good grope.

"Yunho." You whine, hands tugging at the ends of his hair. Sooner or later, you find yourself straddling Yunho— lazily working your hips while he lays back and watches you. Everything about this moment is slow, sweet, sensual; every kiss, every move, filled with love and affection. He bites onto his bottom lip as his hands rest on your hip, fingers slightly digging into the surface as he helps guide you. You've still got his shirt on, and he's still got his, too— sweats pulled down enough to ride him. It's so lazy, but so intimate, especially with the storm in the background.

It feels perfect and enough.

You let out soft moans and whimpers, Yunho whispering sweet praises about how good you feel and how perfect you are. He never fails to remind you how beautiful you are and how much you mean to him, even in the most compromising positions. But his words drip with gold, low groans and hisses dipped in honey.

Everything about Yunho is so, so sweet.

"Fuck." You whimper, brows pulled together as your mouth is slacked open— orgasm quick to build, close to toppling over on the edge.

"That's it, baby." Yunho replies as he tries his hardest to hold on. "Wanna cum for me?" You nod, pace increasing just enough to make you come undone in the next few rolls of the hips. You let out a few curses in between moans, while Yunho continues to pound upward into you to find his own release. 

"That was definitely not a nap, Yunho." You continue to sit on top of him to regulate your breathing and come back down from your high.

"Ah, no. But, that nap does sound nice now, doesn't it?" You giggle when he taps your hips, the both of you letting out small whines when you finally pull your bodies apart from each other. He grabs some wipes and helps you clean up before following suit on himself, slipping back into the covers for said nap.

"Yunho."

"That's me." He says, eyes already shut as he holds you close.

"I love you. And I'm sorry. I wanna keep doing better for you."

"I love you, too. Don't be sorry. We're learning together, princess." He lets out a breath before kissing you on the forehead. "Come on, let's take a nap. It's not like we can go anywhere anyways." You chuckle against his chest, feeling happy and content that all is well; that you're finally in his Yunho's arms again.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintificreads @primoppang @betray-the-light @aurorasjoongie @wineyoungie @yunhotteokkk @yungigiggles @jaerisdiction @ignoretheskies @luminouskalopsia @naeviscall @vixensss @choisansplushie @arya9111 @my-lightspirit @dazednconfusion @astro-doll-the-star @faesmingi @idfkeddieishot @startinystay @emily505 @mgdixon @mcsalterego @cheynalexilaiho @svintsandghosts @mismatchfluffysocks @meeitany

[lushlovers]

The P-word, J Burrow

summary; he doesn't know what to say or how to react to things like this.

warnings; fluff fr, mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy tests, pet names (baby, honey, ) joe actually kinda sucks with words but same lmaoooo, swearing, kissing

word count; 903

note; yes angst but also fluff. i'm working on more frat!lsu!joey, but this was something random I wanted to post since it's been a little while. i hate the ending no one talk about it. winter writer's block ain't no joke fr.

this is kind of my thank you for two hundred followers even though we are just on the cusp of three, but thank you so much, I appreciate the support of my works more than you will ever know. i love every one of my followers so so sooo much yall are the best:)

Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. Maybe the more you think of those eight letters will fade away and completely off the little plastic at-home test you decided to finally take. God the word just keeps ringing in your head like the most annoying of alarms. How the hell are you supposed to tell him? His career's just started he'll never be along for the roller coaster ride, especially not when it consists of a baby running around as well.

However, luck chooses to be your opponent this evening since Joe's already home and sitting on the couch in the living room, completely oblivious to the fact that your world has just turned completely upside down. It took a while for you to work up the nerve to call him up, but when you did everything suddenly felt so heavy.

The weight refused to leave your shoulders as he sat on the truck at the foot of your bed. Rehearing in the mirror, preparing for every scenario, but especially for the one that you hope and pray will never occur. Everything that you've been through together, nothing will go wrong, he's too good of a person.

After several minutes, worry becomes evident in your voice as he asks you through the door if everything's alright, "'M fine, just nervous, I guess." That seemed to do the opposite of what you intended, that is, maybe your lying and saying you're fine would shut him up for a bit, but your being nervous led to many other questions from the other side of the door.

Adding on to that p-word, every what if clouds your mind as well. What if telling him this is your biggest regret? What if he just packs his shit and leaves? What if-, "Baby, are you sure?" Fucks sake he's still going with his questions, in any less stressful situation this would've been appreciated, but not when you can barely seem to focus on the most topic at hand.

Now or never, seemed to be the only thing that got you to push open the door and finally face the man you love so dearly. He almost instantly jumps up, concern written all over his face even more so when he glances in the direction of your hands. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?" No, not entirely, you think but you won't let that escape your mouth, matter of fact, nothing leaves your mouth for many seconds. Maybe never was a good idea.

It took a bit for you to unscramble your words and finally speak up, "I'm gonna tell you something, but you have to try not to freak out." Your mouth felt dry the way your anxiety made your throat close up made it feel like your lungs had shrunk five times the size they were before, "Okay, care to share? I'm like shitting my pants right now," Joe spoke, chuckling but not because it was funny, he laughs because he's terrified of what words may escape your lips.

You do everything you can to avoid his eyes because the all too familiar feeling of tears surfaces on your waterline and his brows furrow at that. "Honey, you know you can tell me anything, yeah?" His question is lost to you as he cups your face thumbing away the tears before they got a chance to slip down your cheeks. The feeling of his eyes searching yours for any answer to all the questions that he's thinking about is a scary feeling.

"I'm pregnant," it comes out as a whisper, but the way the color completely drains from his face, you know he understood every syllable of those two words. For a split second, he stares at you with a look you don't think you've ever received from him before, "That's... wow." A strangled breath of half relief and half worry escapes you at his response.

Your soul leaves your body as he racks his brain for something to say to express just how he's feeling, but he's almost certain there is no possible way to verbally explain it. Now tears are welling up in his pretty blue eyes, "That's insane, I dunno what to say, are you sure?" His voice is trembling just as much as his hands as you place the test into his palm, he gets choked up as he reads over the same word that had your stomach in knots before with nothing but admiration and surprise.

"Holy fucking shit," he gapes, pulling you into him so tight it nearly knocks the wind right out of you. You laugh now as it settles into your mind that Joe would never do anything to hurt you or your baby in any way possible and to think he would ever leave in a situation like this one was silly, but thinking irrationally tends to happen quite a lot.

"I'm gonna be a dad, I need to call-" you cut him off before he's able to go on his rant, "How about we pause, and we can tell whoever we want in the most extravagant, Joseph Burrow way possible?" He snorts at that, pulling his face away from his place against your shoulder, muffling some form of agreement against your lips, then your jaw, neck, and clavicle, and lowering himself to his knees.

For a moment he looks up at you, "Sorry if I scared you with my response, I don't usually know what to say in times like this and my brain went into shock mode."

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Ch. 13: I've Got It

Note:....Been a while. I know boooo, it was very shitty of me, and I'll spare you the sob story but I'm back. Thank you all for the continued support, I am extremely grateful to everyone who gave and continues to give this story a chance. I am ready to get back to work. This chapter is a long one as the beginning of my apology. As always, feel free to reach out to me with any questions or just to chat, but all in all, it feels good to be back. Happy Valentines Day, babies <3

Warning: Toxic Family Dynamics, anxiety, angst and strong language.

“Now we wait.” 

Lip rolls his eyes as he sits on the bed in his and Charlotte’s room at Kev and V’s house, crossing his arms. “This is fucking stupid.”

V’s sharp elbow goes into his side as Kev shushes him, facing the opposite direction. 

The three of them are sitting and waiting outside of the bathroom door, straightening as Carol emerges from the room, blue and white stick in her hands and Charlotte in tow. “Auntie Carol, I told you I’m not pregnant-” 

“Hush, little girl, stop whining.”

“But Mama,” V tries, rubbing her head tiredly. “She just had her period.”

“You shut up, Veronica, you were supposed to be watching her, not letting her shack up while you did, lord knows everything but take care of your cousin. Now I’m gonna hear shit from her father and his wife the whole time they’re here.” The older woman huffs, squinting at the test, snapping her fingers and pointing to the bed, gesturing for Charlotte to sit. “The least we can do is make sure she’s not pregnant when they get here.”

Lip rests his hand on Charlotte’s thigh as he tries to hide his annoyance with the whole situation. The call with Charlotte’s dad had been disastrous, as he suspected it would be. The older man had cursed him to high heaven before demanding Charlotte be on the next flight home. When Lip heard that he’d panicked, snatching the phone back from his wife and hanging up. All they’d received since then was an eerie message that they were on their way. Because he’s him and he has literally no control over his own brain, he had no choice but to question why she hadn’t told her parents about them, about him. It seemed like her dad hadn’t even expected to hear from a boyfriend let alone a husband. They’d at least been together long enough that her parents should know he exists.

In fact that’s all he can think about, aside from the fact that he may have lost his job. And how the two may be related. 

“Fuck!” Lip growls as he punches the wall in the hallway. He’s unconcerned with what Fiona will say about it. He’ll just blame it on Frank. 

Charlotte’s head pops out of the bathroom with a freshly bathed Liam on her hip, both looking as innocently confused as ever. Liam claps his hand, squealing, mumbling out an excited ‘fuck!’ as he meets his brother’s eyes. “No, Liam, that's a bad word. Phillip didn’t mean to say that. He meant to say darn, right Phillip?”

The blond is in too foul a mood to concede for cuteness sake and instead squeezes the boy’s cheek and gives his wife an appreciative pat on the ass before scooting past. “Nah, I meant fuck.” 

Charlotte pouts as she bounces the child on her hip a little before taking him to sit with one his other siblings as she goes to figure out what’s wrong with her spouse. She’s noticed that Phillip has been on edge since her parents’ message, but she was beginning to think that wasn’t all that was bothering him. 

She finds him spread out on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with a scowl on his face. Her pout deepens as she climbs over the side of the couch, laying her body over his, pressing her chest to his and offering him a bright smile. “Talk to me, bubba.” 

“I’ve just got shit to figure out I guess, I gotta handle it or we’re fucked.” he huffs, rolling his big blue eyes, as she smooths the lines between his brows with her soft fingers. 

“Shit like what?” Charlotte asks, tilting her head lightly. 

“Watch your mouth.” He murmurs, softly, dragging his thumb over her bottom lip before pushing it into her mouth, humming with quiet satisfaction as she simply closes her mouth around it, brown eyes staring up at him intently. “That shit at the party, lost my cool, cause that fucker is trying to fuck you-” 

“Don’t want him.” she says around his finger.

“I lost my cool and sorta might’ve cost us a good thing.” Lip sighs, smoothing his other hand over her hair. “Daddy wants to talk to me in his office later this week. Fucked it up, sorry baby.” 

It almost feels worse. How quickly she shrugs off his failures. She doesn’t tell him he fucking sucks, or that he ruins everything. She doesn’t huff and push off of him. She offers him a soft smile, kisses him deeply, and tells him ‘they’ll figure it out’. They’ll do it. Another thing he just can’t do for her. He feels helpless. He loves her, and this job was the biggest step he’s made in showing her that. He might beg. He might literally have to set his pride aside and beg. 

That was part one in the hardest lesson life has taught him. Phillip Gallagher is not good enough for Charlotte Gal…Fisher.

“Yay, Debbie!” Charlotte screams , clapping along as Ian whistles. The family was gathering for Debbie’s first soccer game of the season and it was…not going well. Turns out Debbie’s team sucks and she doesn’t respond very well to the rules and restrictions of soccer. She was currently focusing more on digging her heel of her cleats into the shin of a kid who’d accidentally kicked her hand while the ball rolled past her. 

“Fuckin’ kill ‘em, Debs.” Mickey calls, lighting his cigarette. His brows furrow at the looks the parents around him send him. “I fuckin’ meant, metaphorically.”

“Figuratively.” Lip corrects, smacking away the middle finger that gets waived in his face. He sighs as Charlotte knocks his own cigarette out of his hand before he can light it, slapping her thigh, pulling her leg over his as she giggles in his ear. Lip relishes in the closeness and warmth he gets from this moment. His wife leaning into him, absently toying with his fingers as she cheers for his little sister. 

It makes him think. He thinks about the future. Doing this with his kids. Their kids. Kids he didn’t even think he wanted. Not until her. Just the idea of her opens a world of possibilities he hadn’t even factored in. It feels good. It would feel great, if some fucking idiot wasn’t staring at her like a piece of fuckin’ meat-

“Can I fucking help you, fuck face, or do you wanna keep starin’ at my wife?” He demands, standing immediately. Ian and Mickey are following suit soon enough, the latter, lifting Charlotte and placing her on the opposite side of all of them. 

“Woah,” the guy lifts his hands in surrender, eyes darting between the men nervously. “I just was trying to figure out where I know her from, I don’t want any issues.”

“Let’s just say you don’t know her from anywhere and you get to keep your teeth, alright?” Mickey growls. 

The three men settle back into their seats and return to the game. Charlotte waves off Debbie’s confused look that she sends to the stands. She whispers into Lip’s ear that everything is fine. That the guy probably frequents the bar she works at. But from the way she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, zipping her jacket up to her neck and crossing her arms over her chest, hoping he wouldn’t notice…Lip fucking hates himself. He really does. He hates the guys at the club that pay to see the love of his life essentially naked. He hates that they go around thinking about her after they leave the fuckin’ seedy ass building. He hates that she works there, because despite the fact that her body is beautiful and he’s glad she’s comfortable in it, his insecurity is making her insecure and now they can’t be at his sister’s soccer game, or the grocery store, or the park or the club without someone fucking eye-fucking his wife, pissing him off and making her uncomfortable in her own damn clothes. 

But mostly, mostly he hates himself for not being able to make her like the women sitting on the opposite side for the other team. The soccer moms who have husbands that take care of fuckin’ everything they need and have shit to spare to give them what they want. He hates that she’s not sitting here with one of those fancy, stupid ass purses that they all seem to fuckin’ have. He hates that while they got to drop their kids off at a nice ass school after they kissed their husbands goodbye and then went shopping or drinking or whatever upper middle housewives do with their days Charlotte was helping clean his shithole house. He hates that after the game he’s gonna drop her off to the club where she’ll meet more creeps who get off thinking about her and eye-fuck her in his face. He hates that he’s too pussy to go into the club because then he’s worried he’ll steal one of Mickey’s guns and air the bitch out and Charlotte’ll be forced to visit him in jail for the rest of her life. 

So Lip grinds his teeth and finishes watching the game. Leg jumping as he tries to soothe his temper. That’s part two.

Charlotte’s parents arriving is the nail in the marital coffin for Lip. They go pick them up from the airport in the attempt to make a good impression. The couple borrows Kev’s car and the whole ride their Charlotte tries to keep him in a good mood. He knew he must be walking into the lion’s den from how she’d been acting. They’d had sex twice that morning, and before he could start to offer to make her breakfast for her…efforts, she was pulling out the ingredients to make him pancakes. In the car, she didn’t whine about his music, just humming softly as it played, rubbing his arm as his hand rested on her thigh. He wants to be able to leave it at this. He doesn’t want to interrupt the great morning by asking the dreaded question, but he’s him and he can’t let it go.

“So, we haven’t really gotten to talk about it, but I need to ask…why didn’t you tell your parents about me?”

Charlotte takes a deep breath, staring straight out the window as they pull into a pickup spot. “They’re parents…you know, they didn’t exactly send me here to get married in three months.”

“They won’t approve. Fuck.” he nods.

“Bubba, it doesn’t matter.” Charlotte turns to face Lip, pulling her knee into the seat beneath her. “It doesn’t matter, I approve. I’m more worried about what you’ll think of me. My parents aren’t the nicest people, and…I’m not good with navigating them.”

“Charlotte, there’s literally nothing short of murder you could do that would make me change my mind, you’re not the one we need to worry about.” Lip pushes his tongue into his cheek absently, nervously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, the reflection of the simple ring shining on his hand. 

“This is temporary, right?” Charlotte murmurs, leaning over the console and placing her hands over Lip’s. “They’ll come, and see how good you take care of me and they’ll go home. ‘Kay?”

The blond man just nods quietly, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing it, savoring their bubble one last time before they get out of the car.

“I hate the airport, it's dirty and busy all of the time.” 

Lip rolls his lips together as he drags his in-laws bags over to the car, listening quietly with Charlotte as her mother and father talk about how miserable their flight has been. Her dad, Victor, had given him a curt nod in introduction and held his arm out for Charlotte to obediently place herself into a hug that Lip could tell she didn’t want. Her mother Cynthia had kissed her cheeks in a European way to where they never actually touch. Both people looked polished, and barely tried to hide their wince when Charlotte said, “This is my husband, Phillip.”

Lip’s wife’s pretty brown eyes haven’t lifted from ground level since they met her parents at the terminal, an absent look on her face as her parents drone on and on with pleasantries.

“...and, honey, don’t you think it’s a little too cold for that outfit?” her mom finishes, as the three of them stand back and watch Lip load the car.

“‘M warm.”

“I am warm.” Her mother corrects.

“I am warm.”

“I don’t know how you could be, with this frigid Chicago air. Hopefully you’re not getting sick. Phillip, you always have to watch her, she never wants to wear a coat, always trying to walk around half naked and expect not to get sick-”

“We’d better hope she’s not having hot flashes.” 

“Victor!”

And that too. The snide remarks. Glances down at Charlotte’s stomach, and positioning himself between her and Lip as they walk back to the car. The muscle in Lip’s jaw jumps in irritation as her father continues to insinuate that the only reason he’s here is because he’s some white trash deadbeat that knocked his daughter up. 

“I’m not pregnant, Daddy.”

“As you’ve told me.” The older man grunts, sliding between his daughter and the car, climbing into the front passenger seat the second the lock clicks open, not even sparing her a glance. 

“Are you guys, uh, hungry? We could stop and get something to eat.” Lip sniffs, glancing up into the rearview mirror to get a look at Charlotte. She’s in the back, toying with her fingers as she stares out of the window. That is until her mom swats at her hand to get her to stop, and she takes to biting her lip instead.

“No thank you, young man, the hotel should be fine.” Victor huffs again, for the fiftieth fucking time since he’s been in the car. “Charlotte, I made you a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow, since you never took the time to find a physician yourself. Your mother will take you after we have breakfast. I assume you’ll be joining us, Phillip.”

Charlotte manages to look up at that, her voice resigned as she addresses her father. “Of course he will, Daddy, we’ll be with you bright early.”

The car goes silent for a moment before Victor mumbles under his breath, ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’

“Daddy?”

“I’m sorry, are we supposed to pretend that this is okay? Cynthia, I tried, but this is fucking ridiculous!”

“Victor! Please.”

“Okay.” Lip grunts, pulling the car into one of the hotel parking spots in the far corner of the lot. 

“No, Charlotte Andrea Fisher, you are 19 years old. You are away from home for the first time, against my better judgment. You have been away for only 3 months. You are naive, and impulsive, and for some reason want to be like your cousin Veronica so damn bad. You are going to take your ass upstairs to the hotel room your mother and I got you and you are not shacking up with this boy-”

“He’s not a boy, he’s my husband, Dad.” Charlotte whimpers from the backseat. Lip grinds his teeth and unbuckles his seatbelt, catching her mother roll her eyes and rub her forehead as he climbs out of the car.

“Oh, god, the waterworks-”

“You are a little girl, and that is a boy. You’re talking about marriage, that sham is getting annulled, if it was even legal-” Victor follows suit, climbing out of the car and slamming the door, opening his wife’s before walking, meeting Lip at Charlotte’s door. The older man goes to tug it open, only to be stopped by Lip’s hand. “Move.”

“No. My wife is coming home with me.” he says calmly.

“Your wife? Your wife, she’s my daughter, and she’s coming with me and her mother-”

“Her mother and I.” Lip says smugly.

“Oh.” Victor cocks his head, taking a step closer to an unflinching Lip. “You think you're tough, boy?”

“You tell me, we’re from the same place.”

The older man glares past him to the car window again. Shifting his attention to Charlotte. “Charlotte Andrea Fisher-”

“Gallagher.” Her muffled voice calls from behind the cheap glass. “My last name is Gallagher now, Dad.”

It’s quiet. Soft. Her voice waivers. But still. She said it. And still, it fills Lip up with pride as he leans against the car door, using its keys to click it closed as he watches her mother drag her husband away. Forcing him to the hotel.

After he watches the fancy, sliding double doors close behind them and the yelling becomes a little more faint, Lip unlocks the car. The way she falls into his arms crushes him. The tears, the shaking, the sobs of ‘I thought they’d give us a chance’ that part hurt. 

Lip Gallagher has watched his parents abandon his siblings. Hit them. Steal from them. Lie. Everything in the book of bad parents. He’s been watching it his whole life. He’s numb to it. It’s life, he tells them. Doesn’t matter, they don’t matter. Frank and Monica. They’ve never been anything to them, and never would be.

But watching this. Watching Charlotte lose her parents in front of him, because of him, he’s never seen anything like it. He’s sad for her. He watched them rip her to shreds with words and disapproving looks. They came here and broke the love of his life within an hour and a half.

This wasn’t the final straw.

No, because Lip’s girl is sweet. This is something he’s always known, and in anyone else he’d call it a flaw. She’s like Debbie, but less vengeful. She forgives. Gives second…third…fourth chances. Hell, its the only fuckin’ way he’s been able to keep her, and normally, he’d thank whatever shitty higher power that’s up there that dropped this woman in his lap for him to hoard to himself but not today.

“She says she wants to say sorry for him. I’m not gonna talk to him, just her. She promised.”

“Bunny, I’m not gonna tell you don’t see your mom-”

“Good!” Charlotte chirps as Lip watches her tug on some notably baggy jeans over her shapely legs, and pull an oversized sweater over her head.

“‘M gonna tell you it’d be pretty fuckin’ stupid though.” he finishes, grabbing the edge of her sweater and pulling her into his lap as he sits on the bed. 

Charlotte smoothes her fingers over his cheek before leaning her forehead against his. “Hm, like threatening your boss's son?”

“Fuckin’ defendin’ your honor.” he grunts, tilting her toward him and patting her ass.

“My hero.”

“Exactly, and now I’m the fuckin’ dragon, lockin’ you up in the tower so the evil people who made the princess cry yesterday don’t get to do it again.”

“That’s really not how fairytales work. And dragons can’t lock doors.”

“Fuckin’ smartass.” Lip breathes, connecting his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. He squeezes her tightly, trying to wring every negative thought out of her head. “They hurt you.” he whispers against her lips.

“They’re my parents. They think they’re doing what’s best for me. They’re not. But that’s what they think.” she whispers back, pressing one more kiss to his lips before pulling away. “So, I’m gonna go to this doctor’s appointment. Do another pregnancy test. Show them we’re married because you loveee me. And then, I’m gonna tell my mom our love story, leaving out some key details. And I’m gonna make her love you like I do, Bubba.”

Lip sits back and takes in her words. Because maybe that is what she’ll do. Maybe Cynthia will reconsider and maybe that will make things better. Maybe they’ll understand their situation and that they love each other and he’s pretty sure they won’t fuckin’ love him but maybe they’ll understand that he fuckin’ loves her. “Hopefully not like you love me. You’d have some competition.” she gasps at that, smacking his arm. “What? You look alike!”

The plan was clear. Charlotte was supposed to go and charm the pants off her mom on Lip’s behalf, he was supposed to be at home, hold down the fort, and figure out what the hell he was going to say to his boss, to get his job back. 

Lip had set up shop. He’d plopped back on the run down couch in his house, and pulled one of his little siblings toys from underneath his ass and started rolling a joint on the table. It was time for him to play his part. Think. For him, and for his family. 

But then there was the knock. And then it turned into knocking. It was incessant.

“Fuck! Hold on. ‘M fuckin’ coming!” He calls, tripping over the plastic bat on the floor when he makes his way over to the door. “What-”

“Phillip.”

“I…what the fuck are you doin’ here? Come to yell at me s’more?” 

Victor Fisher stands with his arms crossed. Polished with a neat sweater and ironed pants, looking wildly uncomfortable and out of place in his own old neighborhood. “No, I…think I did enough of that yesterday. At least that’s what Cynthia tells me.”

“Okay,” Lip shrugs, leaning in the frame and catching Victor’s glance at the chipped paint. “Well, she tell you that she and Charlotte are going to the doctor?”

“Yes. It was my own idea to come down here and ask you to come get something to eat with me while we wait.”

The blond’s eyes narrow as he laughs incredulously. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” 

“Not at all.” Victor sighs, crossing his arms. “I am extending an olive branch. For Charlotte’s sake. Grab the other end.”

For Charlotte’s sake.

“So tech. Good business.” 

“Technology and science are languages that I’ve always been able to speak. It pays too.” Lip shrugs, pushing a forkful of eggs into his mouth. 

“Well?” Victor asks without looking up. This has been their breakfast so far. Short, stilted conversation. Lip answering the questions Victor fires at him. Trying to gauge his reactions to everything he says. Pretending he wasn’t starting to hate this man.

“Gettin’ there.” 

“How many siblings do you have, Phillip?”

“Uh, five.” 

“Smart like you?” he asks, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“They’re smart.”

“But not like you.”

“Uh, no. Not like me.” Lip shifts in his seat, suddenly unable to follow the conversation.

“Hm.” Victor reaches to the side of the table, pouring more coffee into his cup and then into Lip’s. “Charlotte is an only child, you know that?”

“I know everything about Charlotte.”

“So, you know why we want her to go to the doctor so badly?” 

“Fuckin’- yes!” 

“You know she’s got chronic pain? That she suffers from sickle cell? She told you that?”

What?

Lip tries to keep a poker face as all of the wind is knocked out of his body. A thousand questions are swirling around in his head. His chest hurts. He didn’t know, why didn’t he know? He should have known-

“Do you know what happens when people who suffer from sickle cell go into crisis? What a flare up of chronic pain looks like for her?” Victor sighs, fully removing his glasses this time. “Probably not, you’ve known her for three months. But it happens, and it's bad. She…she can’t move. Barely eats, loses weight rapidly. The pains. The shakes. The crying. Are you prepared for that?”

“Yea-yes-”

“I’m sure you could. You’re a man. I understand that. You grew up here. You’ve had to be a man long before you were supposed to and that is unfair and I’m sorry that happened to you but the reality is, Charlotte is a girl. You two are a year apart, but you’re a man and she’s a girl. She grew up in a nice house, with me and her mother. She went to nice schools. We knew she was pretty, too pretty for her own good, so we protected her from the boys not worth keeping around-”

“Fuck you.” Lip scoffs.

“No, I’m not implying you’re not worth anything, Phillip. Boys like you from this area are diamonds in the rough. Just like me. I was just like you. And I got the girl. You have Charlotte, I had Cynthia. I know how it feels to hit the lottery.” Victor pauses to take a drink of his coffee, gesturing to the waitress for the check. “But Phillip, I don’t speak to my siblings. My parents. They were deadbeats. My siblings stayed here. I left them behind. They hate me. All of them. And over time, I’ve learned that I don’t care. I chose Cynthia. I chose me. They were holding me back. I let them go. Because you’ll learn, Phillip, that getting there only gets there, when you can focus. You can’t keep two families afloat.” 

Lip works his jaw irritably, feeling his skin heat with irritation as he weighs what his father and law says. “What are you trying to say? I should abandon my family?” 

“No. I’m saying it's not too late to choose them and annul your marriage. We both know you can’t take care of Charlotte. Not the way she should be. Not for a long, long time. So give her back to people who can. People who can make it worth you and your family’s while.”

“I…” Lip grits his teeth at the sound of his voice cracking. “I love her. I take care of her.” “She’s been living here, working as a stripper under your care. Want better for her, Phillip.” Victor says, snapping his checkbook closed as he slides the piece of paper across the table. The waitress comes over with the bill, dropping it between the two men and Lip absentmindedly reaches into his pocket to find some money, pausing when the older man holds his hand up to halt him. “Don’t worry, son. I’ve got it.”

Sending the message was hard, but it was the only way Lip knew how. 

He knew he couldn’t look Charlotte in the face yet. No. He needed more time. Time to think. Time to decide he was doing the right thing. Time to finish talking himself into this. 

Victor told him what he needed to do. Bend her heart, not break it. Neither of them wanted to see her broken. Just hurt her enough that she’s prepared to go home. Charlotte’s stubborn, so she won’t just give up. She won’t run to her parents so easily. So Lip would need to be able to hold out long enough that she would give up. Get tired. Realize it was over and go home. 

And Lip would be able to pay the bills in the house, for the next three months. One month for each one he and Charlotte had together. He would be able to get his family a car. He would have something to drive back and forth to work in. A real car. Not a run down busted up car barely off the junk lot. A real car. One that he could keep for years.

So, he came home. Her mom kept her out a long enough time, clearly in on this plan to write him out of Charlotte’s fuckin’ life. He went to his house. He looked his siblings in the face and told them that he was ending things with Charlotte. And they were fuckin’ pissed. The kids weren’t talking to him. Debbie said she hated him. But she’d get over it. That’s what Victor had said when he’d told him how they loved Charlotte. 

Carl mumbled something about a ‘waste’ and shoved past him. Liam doesn’t understand. And Lip knows that he’ll feel horrible when his baby brother wakes up tomorrow asking for her.

Ian and Fiona were the worst. Ian started rattling insults immediately. Telling him what a piece of shit he was. He knows. Telling him this is the only chance at something good, at love he’ll actually get. He fuckin’ knows.

Fiona just asked so many questions. Why? What happened? Are you sure? 

That all stopped when Lip shrugged, schooling an emotionless expression onto his face, dropping the check onto the kitchen table and snapping his phone closed as he finished his message. “It’s done.” 

All of that hurt. It fucking sucked and he felt like blowing his brains out when the flood of text messages started rolling in. But nothing could beat the crying. The begging. 

“Bubba, please.” Her voice is small on the opposite side of the door, the whining lilt to it has his entire body tense as he leans against the wood, staring at the wall over Ian’s shoulder, refusing to make eye contact with any of his siblings. “I love you. Why are you doing this?”

“Lip-” Fiona starts, cutting herself off when her little brother looks up at her, wide blue eyes watery with tears, an exhausted look on his face, jaw clenched so hard she worried his teeth would crack. She thinks this is a mistake. She loves Charlotte, and even more, Lip loves Charlotte more than anything, but this was his decision, and he was her brother. 

“I love you, what did I do? M’sorry.” she whimpers, soft thump letting the three siblings know she’d slid down the door. “Please, I love you. Please…st-stop.” 

The three eldest Gallaghers stand there in a stalemate. Ian shifts on his feet, quietly shaking his head as he looks away. Fiona watches her brother struggle somberly, wondering if she could have done anything that would have avoided this. 

And Lip, silent, straight faced, completely devoid of emotion as he rests his head against the door, staring forward. The only indication that he feels anything at all is the few tears that managed to escape down his face. 

It goes on like this for an hour and a half. At 40 minutes, Ian scoffs, mumbling under his breath as he storms his way up the stairs, slamming his room door closed, causing his sister to flinch. Once the standoff reaches 1 hour and 15 minutes, Fiona sighs, scrubbing a tired hand down her face before patting an unmoving Lip’s shoulder, retiring to bed herself.

The sobbing and constant knocking at the door had slowed to quiet pleas, still making Lip’s chest hurt just as bad. He’s doing what’s best for her. He knows that. It hurts now, but she’ll recover from this. She’ll be better, she’ll have a chance to do better than him. 

Lip will never recover. He knows that too. He knows that this is his better. His best. Being with Charlotte is everything. That’s why he doesn’t deserve it. He should’ve never tried to drag her down with him. He can’t give her the life she deserves, or the things she should have access to. He could only offer her hard work, and being bound to mental illness and alcoholism. Trapping her with a baby, forcing her to live in the fucking slums and dance for a couple of bucks from creepy frat boy fucks and drunk limp dick losers like his father. 

Soon he can hear footsteps approaching the doorway, Charlotte is immediately riled up by the presence of whoever it is. “No, no, no, he needs to talk to me. Something is wrong, I don’t know what I did- Phillip, please.” 

“C’mon Lottie, let’s go home.” Lip recognizes Kev’s muffled voice from the opposite side of the door. After some quiet arguing, he finally releases a breath when he hears the wood creak under the weight of them walking away. 

The man ignores the crushing feeling in his chest, the gut wrenching pain that comes with the realization of what he’d just done. A numbness spreads over his limbs as he hazily makes his way over to and up the stairs, breathing shakily. He reaches the doorway of his dark room and stops there. He wants his bed. He wants to climb under the covers and pretend he didn’t just blow up his fuckin’ life. But he can’t make it over the threshold. 

This is her room too. He didn’t think this through. She’s touched everything. How was he supposed to lay in the bed that they laid in together? Her clothes are still in the drawers. Pictures still taped to the mirror and walls. Fuck. 

It’s humiliating, the way he breaks down. Strong shoulders shaking with stronger sobs. Body curling over until his knees simply give out, he sits on the floor next to the crack in the wall where Carl had drilled a hole to hide drugs for Frank. The sound of miscellaneous toys left out squeaking under him. Lip pulls his legs to his chest and cries, because it’s all he can do. Despite every ounce of his being telling him, ‘stop being a bitch,’ ‘the fuck are you cryin’ about, pussy?’ he can’t help it. And he doesn’t stop. Not when his throat started getting sore, or his back started to hurt. Not when the sun starts to peak in through the half broken window in the hallway. Not when he feels his little sister lay a blanket over him before sitting beside him, quietly resting her head on his shoulder.

Charlotte doesn’t fare much better. She finally fell asleep with V rubbing her back, sleeping in her cousin’s bed while Kev slept downstairs. When she wakes she has a pounding headache, her eyes are puffy and burn. She wraps one of the blankets around herself before dragging to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and splashing water on her face. 

She’s hurt. Heartbroken and confused. She knows why he’s doing this. Her parents said something. Did something. Something that made him decide she isn’t worth the trouble. 

But she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. She loves Phillip. She loves her husband, and she didn’t take their time together lightly. She pulls on one of Phillip’s sweatshirts and jumps her way into a pair of jeans before looking at herself in the mirror. 

“Hey, honey,” V’s soft voice comes from behind her, Charlotte’s cousin appears over her shoulder, wrapping her arms around the younger woman. “I didn’t think you’d be up.”

“I’ve gotta,” she sniffs, combing her fingers through her hair. “I’ve gotta take Liam to daycare. And um, make sure Carl remembers his science project. See if Phillip wants me to have lunch with him at work today, I could…I could make him something-”

“Lottie.” V interrupts, “Didn’t Lip-”

“He’s confused.” Charlotte says sharply, swinging her purse over her shoulder, holding her hand out to her cousin expectantly. “My key to their house is in our room. I…don’t normally need it.” 

“Charlotte, listen. I’m not saying this to hurt you, but that boy left you crying on the porch in the cold, that sends a message. Don’t you think you two need space?”

The younger woman shakes her head stubbornly, looking forward to the door, refusing to look at V. “No. Space will let him spiral. My parents made him doubt me, I’m gonna show him that they don’t know what they’re talking about, that I’m what he wants and needs, no matter what they say.”

Determined, Charlotte makes her way next door, unlocking the door with V’s keys and gets to work immediately. Frank is passed out on the couch, so she nudges him awake with a beer at the ready, guiding the drunken man out of the door so he won’t be there when everyone wakes up. Next she starts on the bacon and eggs, brewing a cup of coffee before climbing the stairs to grab Liam, changing and dressing him. “G’morning Liam, did you sleep well?” she coos, pressing kisses to his cheeks as she makes her way back down the stairs. 

When she gets down there, Fiona is sitting at the table, eyes going wide as she sees her sister-in-law. “Lottie? I…when did-”

“Early this morning. I know yesterday was really weird, and I’m sorry you guys had to see that-”

“Hey,” Fiona smiles, taking Liam from Charlotte’s arms. “There’s no embarrassment with family. Gallaghers know no shame, girl, and you’re one of us.” 

And she means it. Fiona watches as a wave of relief washes over the girl bustling around her kitchen, dumping fresh bacon onto a plate. “Thanks Fi.” Charlotte tucks some hair behind her ear, sliding a bowl of cheerios in front of the toddler. “I’m sorry to even ask you this, but did he talk to you about anything? Like something they said or s-something I did-”

“Mornin.” 

The deep voice makes Charlotte’s heart drop to her stomach. She turns slowly, as if she’s approaching an animal that’s likely to scare. And there he is. Standing there in his pajamas, hair mussed, bags under his eyes. But still handsome as ever to Charlotte. “Phillip.”

The blond pauses for a beat. His blue eyes are cloudy for a moment as he takes in the girl before he slips past her, ignoring her extended hand, offering a mug of coffee, opting to open the fridge and grab the orange juice instead. “Hey, you come here to pick up your stuff?”

“My…my stuff? Phillip-”

“I uh, gotta get to work.” he sniffs, grabbing his bag from it’s place on the kitchen floor, slinging it over his shoulder with his jacket in his hand.

“But-” Charlotte flinches as the door slams shut, shoulders tense as she stares after her husband. Fiona quietly slips behind the girl, resting her hand on her shoulder, apologetic for her brother’s behavior, but unable to do anything about it. “He means it.”

Charlotte had whispered so quietly that her sister-in-law didn’t catch it, leaning in for clarity. “What?” 

“Phillip, he’s leaving me, and he means it.” It was like a rock landed in her stomach, both painful and grounding, Charlotte steels herself. “Fine.” she huffs, grabbing her own bag and storming out of the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

Phillip’s day had been absolute shit so far. He woke up to his boss’s daddy’s assistant calling him in for a meeting. No doubt calling him in to fucking fire him for beating the living shit out of his pussy ass son. Lip doesn’t regret it. Not really. But he regrets losing his fucking job. 

On top of that, he came downstairs to see the one person he couldn’t handle seeing. She looked so damn pretty, mixing up in his kitchen, bein’ with his family and shit. The hopeful look in her eye as she saw him enter the room. He didn’t deserve for her to fuckin’ look at him like that. He wanted to kick his own ass for how broken her pretty little face looked when he dismissed her. He loves her. That’s why he’s doing this. Her eyes were pink and puffy. She’d been crying for him. The fact that he was fighting with himself not to like that…he’s a sick fuck. Like he’s said, he doesn’t deserve her. 

Lip doesn’t even bother asking Kev to use his car to get to work, opting to take a walk to the train station to clear his head. He was in no real rush to be fired. As he blows into his hands to warm them, he lets his mind wander to the last place it needs to, but the only place it seems to want to go. 

“So, what the fuck are they mad at her for? They don’t wanna do the band shit anymore?”

Charlotte giggles, running her fingers through his curls as he lays his head on her lap, scowling at the television. She was educating him on Disney movies; it seemed that in the process of raising his siblings along with his sister, he’d never gotten the chance to experience sitcoms and original movies that were formative for her childhood. He’d said, ‘I’m not watchin’, put your shit on and I’ll take a nap’ but here he was, watching intently with a wonder that made her heart ache. “Guess they don’t have your work ethic, bubba.”

Lip hums contentedly, bringing her free hand to his lips, absently pressing kisses to her palm as he continues watching the movie. “Yeah, I know you liked her little rapping white boyfriend.”

“Um, excuse me? Even though he’s cute-”

“Knew it.”

“And you happen to also be a white, blonde with blue hair, most of my exes haven’t been white, I’ll have you know.”

He tried to swallow down the comment, really. But he fuckin’ couldn’t hold himself back, sue him. “Yeah, how many exes are we talkin’ about?”

He expects for her to get offended, or be evasive. Tell him to fuck off. That’s what any of his sorta exes would’ve done. Hell, that’s what he would’ve done. With anyone but her. He’ll tell her whatever she needs to know. But Charlotte has soft edges. Even when he’s being a dick, she has softness for him he’d never experienced before. 

“Not many, baby, just like, five.” She smiles gently, smoothing her hand over his hair again. “You’re the only one who matters now, Phillip.” she takes a deep breath, leaning down to press her forehead against his, and Lip can’t help but lean up to meet her, eyes trained on her face as hers slip closed. “Love you.” she mumbles.

She’s everything. “I love you, Bunny.”

With that, her brown eyes open, staring down at him with joy, she wrinkles her nose. “Ew, you like me?” she teases, squealing in his ear as he pushes himself up, grabbing her thigh and tugging her down on the couch.

“Fuckin’ brat.” he chuckles breathily against her lips, slapping her thigh lightly as he descends on her, her giggles ringing out into the air.

“Fuck.” the blond huffs out, roughly wiping at a stray tear before storming up to an abandoned car, left on the frozen grass and kicking at one of the doors, denting it slightly. He breathes heavily, shaking his head and turning to go back to his path to the train. Her laughter. That fuckin’ pretty ass laugh that she’s gonna end up giving to someone else makes him feel like he could vomit. He could hear it. In his head. It used to be nice. Now it feels like his heart is being wrenched from his fuckin’ chest. Damnit! 

Lip drops his bag onto the ground, lifting his leg and kicking the car again. And again. And again. Until he stops. Then, he starts punching the windows, his knuckles start getting bloody as the glass shatters and breaks under his efforts. But he keeps going. He just keeps punching, and kicking, and screaming…? When did he start doing that? 

He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t even notice someone approaching him.

“Lip…?” A familiar voice calls out. Familiar, but not the one haunting him now. “Well, it’s been a while, I can guess how you’ve been.”

He stops, turning to look at the person intruding on his break down, brows furrowed. The blond reaches in his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, raising it to pluck one into his mouth before offering it to them. “The fuck are you doin’ here?”

“Needed a nice bed, and food. Came to check on my mom. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I’ve been doin’?” 

To say Charlotte was pissed off was an understatement. Hot, angry tears stream down her face as she swings open the door to V and Kev’s house, throwing her purse on the floor. She tries to level out her breath as she pushes into the bathroom. Charlotte rests her hands on the sink as she watches herself cry in the mirror. Sobs racking her body she doubles over with the force of her crying. She was glad no one was home to see her like this.

She doesn’t even know what she’s doing when she climbs into the tub, bringing her knees to her chest. She raises her left hand to look at the small ring on her finger. It’s not what she used to picture. When she was younger, she would envision her life. She would dream about what her ring would look like. What her husband would be like. 

It was always a ring like her mother’s, a large house like she grew up in and the some faceless prince who spun her in circles but surprisingly never spoke. 

This life she was building with Phillip was nothing like that. They live in a small house with his siblings, he’d shared a room until he was 18 and got her ring from his drunken father. It was small, and wouldn’t pass as a kids toy where she came from. Phillip was quiet compared to his siblings, but generally loud, crass, and aggressive. With everyone except her at least. He was a prince. He does spin her around, and hug her, and kiss her and look at her like she’s everything. The life he gave her was better than she’d imagined. 

But he’s ready to throw it away. And it hurts. Charlotte is tired of being the one being hurt. 

She sits in silence for a few moments, staring at the tiles on the wall before she can distantly hear her phone chiming in her purse outside the bathroom door. She tries to ignore the clench in her chest, the little glimmer of hope that it’s Phillip, calling to say sorry, that he’d changed his mind and he was coming over so they could make up. Charlotte pushes out of the tub at the third chime, walking on unsteady legs over to the bag, sniffling and tucking hair behind her ear as she squints to read the messages.

It’s her manager from the club, asking if anyone was interested in working the day party for today because the promoter’s entertainment fell through. Normally, she’d turn this down. She knows how Lip feels about her new job, and for her it was only a means to an end. They were discussing alternatives until this shit started. But maybe working a party would be a good way for her to get her mind off of things, and make some extra cash. Especially since it seems she’ll be doing things by herself for now on. 

“So you got married? That wasn’t a joke?”

“Uh, nope, real shit.” Lip takes a final swig of his beer before sailing it into the street, smiling softly at the glass shattering before opening another. 

“Hm, never thought you were the marrying type.” 

“M’not.” 

Karen shrugs, sipping her own beer and looking up at him. “Must’ve been pretty though, to get you down the aisle. Or pregnant. Both?”

“Not pregnant.” He says, opening his phone and showing her a picture of Charlotte. He supposes he’s gonna have to stop having those at the ready, if he’s gonna move on. As if he could. 

“Damn, she’s sexy.” Karen’s eyes widen as she grabs the phone. She remembers the current situation and bites her lip. “Sorry.”

“S’fine. She is. Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

Karen looks out into the road again, hesitating for a moment before nudging Lip’s shoulder. “Want me to take your mind off of it? It’s been a while.” 

Before Lip had even met Charlotte he had told himself he’d never fuck Karen again. She’s better now, sure, but she also almost fucking ruined his life multiple times. Once he had met Charlotte, he hadn’t even thought of it. He really didn’t consider that he’d ever fuck someone else again. A realization that surprised himself more than anyone, considering he’d never been the monogamous type. 

But now he’s in pain. And he doesn’t think he’ll ever be with Charlotte again. That makes him feel cold in a way that he’s never felt before. Lip, desperate for any kind of break he can get from what he’s feeling, rolls his eyes to the sky. “Yeah, fuck it, why not.”

“Gee, you used to be a lot more excited for me to get you off.” she mumbles against his cheek before leaning in to kiss his lips.

Lip turns his head away, pulling his mouth from her reach, “Don’t um, kiss me.”

Karen looks at him for a moment before laughing. “Okay, kissing used to be your thing, not mine.” As she kneels in front of him, Lip finds himself squirming uncomfortably, looking everywhere but down when he feels her unzipping his pants. “Um…are you…is it like, too cold?”

“Uh, no, I’m…gimme a second.” He feels like he can’t breath, the ring on his finger feels like it’s literally fucking scalding his skin. 

“Oh-kay.” 

A few more moments pass and Karen speaks again. “Do you want me to help you? Is there anything I can do?”

“Nope, no, not at all. Just, shut up for one second, please.” He brings his hands together, tugging the ring off and putting it in his pocket and prays.

“You can think of her if you need to. I don’t mind.” she tries again. 

“Um, yeah, maybe.” He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, and lets the images of Charlotte that he’s racked up over time run across his brain. It feels good to think of her. To sift through the memories of her smiling up at him, holding him close, crying out his name. But he couldn’t trick his mind or body. He’s in love. Still. And she’s not the girl on her knees in front of him. “No, no.”

“No?”

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t I’m…I don’t think I can fuck someone who’s not my wife. At least right now.” Or ever. Shit. I’m never gonna get my dick wet again.

“Jeez, that’s serious.” Karen says. She hops up, tucking her hands in her pockets. “What is she? A contortionist?” Lip just looks at her and she sobers, her smile dropping. “Sorry. I’m serious. I’m talking to you as a friend, talk to me. Your wife is hot, and nice, and clearly has a hold over your dick, so what’s the problem, why’d you leave her?”

“She’s perfect.” Lip sighs, lighting another cigarette, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he works back the lump in his throat. He’ll be damned if he cries about this in front of Karen.

“Okay so-”

“She’s perfect. She’s everything, she deserves everything and I am stuck here. I live here. I was born here, I’m gonna live and die here and I don’t want her here to do it with me. So I can’t have her, that’s fine I’m teaching myself that it's fine but it fuckin’ sucks! It fuckin’ sucks Karen, and it’s fuckin’ worse because she’s willing to stay. I hate her for not making this easy!” He roughly throws the bottle into the street, barely missing a parked car.

“Oof. Okay. Clearly, you need to get your mind off of things.” She says, scooting the remainder of the six pack the pair of them bought from the liquor store across the street away from him. “C’mon, let’s get you a real drink and some recreational drugs.”

“You’re making some good tips out there girl, they’re loving you at this party.” 

Charlotte smiles briefly before leaning over the vanity, reapplying her lip gloss in the mirror. 

“Of course they are, they’re actually seeing her. Normally, guests only get a glimpse of the back of her head, before she runs into the back again to check in with her man.” 

“Well, he won’t be checking in today, so-”

“What?”

Trish leans back in her own seat to look at her friend. “Did something happen with you and Lip?”

Charlotte tries to ignore the quiver in her lip and stare forward into the mirror, focusing on the pink she’s applying on her lips. “I dunno, he’s doing his own thing, I’m doing mine, I guess.” 

“Well, that seems-”

“Girl, about time!” Kelsey, one of the girls Charlotte met through the club, claps, pushing her way into Charlotte’s seat. “All you talk about is that man and his gaggle of kids. Now, we can invite you to do fun stuff. We can go out!”

“They’re his siblings, first of all and they’re good kids.” Charlotte sighs, smoothing her hands over her hair.

“Gallagher kids? Okay.”

Charlotte’s eyes narrow, her mouth opening for her to ask her co-worker what the fuck she meant by that, something she would’ve never done a couple of months ago. But Trish beats her to it, patting her arm and shaking her head. Instead of telling her other coworkers about herself, Charlotte settles for rolling her eyes and mumbling, “We could’ve always gone out.”

“Please, the way you used to all but trip over yourself running out the door to climb back on Lip’s dick? When would we have the time to ask?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with the girl loving her man, Renee.” Trish intervenes, leaving her arm tossed around Charlotte’s shoulders. Was she really that pathetic? Did she really spend all her time running behind Phillip? She supposes that she never took the time to think about it while it was happening, but is this what everyone thinks? “Just because you don’t have one.”

“Well,” Kelsey shrugs, rubbing more glitter lotion onto her chest and meeting Charlotte’s eyes in the mirror. “Doesn’t seem like Lottie does either anymore. So, Lottie, have you dislodged yourself from Gallagher’s side or not? Are we going out”

Charlotte fully plans to say yes. For the first time since she’d met her husband, she thought that maybe this is what she should have been doing. She’s only ever had two identities in her life. Mr. and Mrs. Fisher’s daughter, and Phillip Gallagher’s wife. She’s never been Charlotte. Not when she left home, not when she got her first job, she just went from being one person’s possession to another. Maybe this is all a sign that she should focus on being alone. However miserable that sounds. That’s why, whether you believe her or not, she was going to say yes. 

Until her phone rings.

“What’d you even give him anyway?”

“Don’t fucking make it sound like that, it was just some weed and booze!” 

“Fuckin’ weed and booze, he’s on his fuckin’ ass Karen! Fuckin’ idiot!”

“Fuck you! How was I supposed to know he drinks and smokes like a little bitch now?” the blonde girl huffs loudly as she turns back to the drunk man in front of them, barely intelligible as he slams his hands down on the bar again, demanding to be served another drink. “Lip, seriously, we need to fuckin’ go-”

“Get the fuck off me, I’m married.” 

The bar owner emerges from the back again, his cellphone in hand, a scowl on his face. “Aye, Gallagher, she’s takin’ too long, he’s scaring the real customers, get him outta here before I gotta call the cops.”

Ian groans, running his hand down his face, “Yeah, good luck cleanin’ up all the coke you’ve got on these tables before they get here. Fuck off, your place is a dive, Billy.” Turning back to his brother, the redhead, tugs his arm, making the shorter brother stumble but ultimately not moving him at all. “Lip, come the fuck on man.”

“Just fuckin’ leave me alone. Not listenin’ fuckin’ idiot-” he slurs, shoving Ian a little before grabbing a half drunk beer from the bar and downing it. 

“God-fuckin’-damnit-” Ian growls snatching the already empty bottles. His brown eyes catch on something over at the door and his tense stance settles. “Thank god.” he mumbles under his breath.

Karen’s eyes follow his over to a woman who looks just like the one Lip had shown her earlier, a tense, concerned look on her pretty face. Her cheeks dimple as her lips turn down into a frown upon spotting the spectacle in front of her. Her hair is tied up into a clean bun, her body covered with a matching sweat suit. Her eyes look exhausted. So that’s the wife?

“Phillip-”

“Bunny, you’re here, come drink with me, baby.” The blond offers her a crooked, drunk smile that has the same knee weakening effect on both women. His muscled arm shoots out, wrapping around the girl’s waist and tugging her to him, all but dragging her into his lap. 

“No, Phillip, it’s time to go home. Let’s get you up.”

Big blue eyes roll closed, his forehead falling forward, uncoordinatedly thunking against the woman’s forehead. She doesn’t flinch, just keeping her tired, sad eyes on him as he inhales deeply, breathing her in. “We gonna go home together?”

It’s the softest voice Karen has ever heard the eldest Gallagher son use. He’d spoken to her softly before. They’d been best friends, lovers. He was always scared of her leaving…rightfully so. But this, it was like he was scared that she was going to break if he rose his voice too much. It was like he was whispering a secret that’s just for them and everyone else in the room is intruding. Karen hadn’t ever seen anything like it. She likes this for him.

The girl was ordering water, grabbing a straw from over the bar and guiding it to Lip’s mouth as he stayed close, rubbing his hands along her hips and mumbling about missing her between gulps. She hadn’t even looked at Karen, her eyes had locked on Lip since arriving. “Um, I’m Karen by the way.”

Big brown eyes finally take her in. There’s no disdain behind them. No hate. She doesn’t look at her like every other girl who’s ever loved Lip has looked at Karen. She just offers a tired look. Glossed lips parting briefly, snapping shut again when she feels the Lip’s head droop forward onto her shoulder, quick hands shooting up to cup the back of his curls. “I’m Charlotte. I’ve got to get him home, are you okay?”

“I’m..I’m sorry?”

Charlotte bites her lower lip in determination as she pats his cheek, getting him to stir awake again. Her eyes never return to acknowledge Karen. “Up, Bubba, up. Are you okay to get home? I…need to take him home, are you okay?” 

Oh. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay, Ian, can you please help him, help him stand?” Karen watches as this woman, Charlotte helps hoist Lip’s weight onto Ian, the redhead slinging his brother’s arm over his shoulder, nodding at Karen as they make their way out of the bar with her…ex? Best friend?

She can’t help but compare herself to the girl. She knew that they were both pretty, generally attractive in different ways. Both short. Big eyes. Round faces. Their difference physically was glaringly obvious, but that wasn’t what mattered. It was in the eyes. Everything is in the eyes. Not the color, but the looks.

When the evening started to turn sour, Karen had been fucking annoyed. She hates babysitting. Hates having to take care of people. That’s why she’s always loved being around Lip in one way or another. That’s why they’d been such good friends. He was the caretaker. He takes care of people. His family, neighborhood kids, her. He doesn’t ask for anything for himself aside from the occasional blowie, and it was mostly a joke. 

Until he asked for more. Until he asked for love, attention and care and a partner. Things that Karen had no interest in. Things that crazy bitch Mandy wasn’t able to give him. He needed too much. He went from something easy to do, someone easy to be around to being this person who needs things. 

It was hard, too hard. Being with Lip is exactly the daunting task people think it would be. But Charlotte, his wife, she’s doing it. She looks exhausted, pissed off, and just caught her husband hanging out with his ex. But she came. She managed to unclench her jaw and offer him a soft look and kind voice. 

Karen had been poison to him. She knows that. She was bad for him, and to be honest, she’d thought that even with the time had passed he wouldn’t have been strong enough to get her out of his system. But, she should have known better than to underestimate Lip Gallagher. He found something good. Someone for him. 

Good for him.

“I know you’re mad at’me.”

“Shut up, man, you’re just gonna make stuff worse.”

“M’talkin to my wife, motherfucker, you shut up.” Lip slurs as Ian all but drags him down the street. “Sweetheart-”

“Phillip, please.” Charlotte begs, voice cracking as she refuses to turn around and face him. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her own form, walking several paces ahead of the Gallagher brothers up the dark road. “Please.” 

It had been going on since they started walking. He keeps trying to talk to her. He keeps calling her all of these sweet names and they fucking hurt. They hurt like him telling her that they could get their marriage annulled. They hurt like him telling her to go with her parents. They fucking hurt like him let her sit on his front porch crying and begging just to see him as he sat on the other side of the door. And now, she understands that he’s drunk or high or whatever, but she needs him to stop talking. 

Her plea is answered with the silence she asked for. Shocked that he actually went silent, Charlotte whips around to see if he’d fallen asleep, but is met with big blue eyes with dilated pupils, brows softened as he meets her shaky gaze. 

The woman turns around so he can’t see her chin tremble as she leads the group onto the streets. Another voice breaks the silence, over the sound of three sets of footsteps, only one set steady, the other two, sloppy and wavering. “Lottie, what do you wanna do?”

She knows what he’s asking. They’re rounding their homes. Where should he put him? Is she going to stay with him? And she immediately feels shame wash over herself. She knows the answers to all of those questions. She should be embarrassed. This man has treated her like shit over the last 24 hours. She hates how he made her feel about herself. She didn’t understand how he could be both the man who strolled past her as if he didn’t know her this morning and the one who was just looking at her the way he did. 

But she’s weak, and he’s everything. 

And she’s already shifting his weight from his brother's arms into hers, stumbling a little under it as she guides him toward her cousin’s house.

“Charlotte.”

“It’s okay.” she breathes. “I’ve got him.”

And she struggles getting him to the door. He tries to help, she can tell. But he’s too fucked up, his motor skills are lacking and only set back any progress she makes. She grips the railing with her spare hand as she helps him up the last step. She tells him to watch his step as she leads him through the doorway, eyes locking V’s as the wooden floors creak under his steps. She ignores the disappointed look on her cousin’s face as she guides her husband to her room. Their room. 

But as she pulls the shoes from his feet and helps him into bed, she’s confident in one thing. Charlotte knows she loves this man. It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks the breaking point should be, or who they envision her with. She wants him. And she was going to keep acting like it.

Charlotte feels a tightness around her waist as she wakes up in the chair she’d dragged into the bedroom once she’d gotten Phillip settled. Her eyes are already watering as they peel open, burning from tears and exhaustion. 

“I fucked up, Bunny.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte sighs, sniffling a little and letting her head drop back against the wall. “How bad?”

“I fuckin’ hurt you-” his voice is muffled against her stomach, his arms tightening around her, fingers squeeing and releasing the fabric of her shirt. 

“Yes.”

“I hate that. M’just fucked up, y’know? But m’sorry, baby, m’sorry.”

Charlotte is annoyed by the sob that leaves her body involuntarily, causing him to pull her even closer to him, her butt almost hanging off of the chair. She’s even more annoyed that she’s wondering if his knees hurt from kneeling on the floor in front of her. She shouldn’t care. “You left me outs-side alone.”

“I know, baby, I know.” she feels a wet spot forming on her shirt and tries to stop her lower lip from shaking. “Fuckin’ supposed to be taking care of you. I’m a shitty husband, you deserve better. And I’m trying to be that, I swear, Charlotte I fuckin’ swear. I…I’m gettin’ to keep my job, and m’gonna save more, gonna get us some more money, just gimme a little more time, sweetheart. I know this fuckin’ sucks, but I’m gonna do better-”

“You’re hurting me.” Charlotte mumbles, staring up at the ceiling, letting the tears freely fall down her cheeks. 

Suddenly his arms are gone from her waist and he’s staring up at her, frantically running his hands through his curls. “M’sorry, I was holding you too tight-”

“Have I done anything to make you believe I won’t wait? Have I cheated on you? Made you feel bad about not having a house for us? Buying a car right now? Anything? What did I do to deserve you telling me you didn’t want to be with me anymore? Stop hurting me!” She finishes with a stomp, feeling childish. Lip is quiet as he listens to her, his hand running along her thigh in soothing strokes.

“You’re perfect. You didn’t do anything, Charlotte. That’s why I was fuckin’ tryin’ to do the right thing.” Lip huffs, clenching his jaw anxiously. “I was tryin’ to give you up. Because there’s somethin’ wrong with me Charlotte. I can’t get out of my head. Everyday I wake up and hear how too fuckin’ good for me on loop in my head, and then people remind me, and I can say fuck ‘em, they’re not you, I don’t care what they think, but then your parents came-”

“Fuck them too.”

“No,” Lip pushes up off the floor and paces in the room. “Not fuck them, because yes, they’re fuckin’ assholes, but they made you, and you’re fuckin’ everything, so they are pretty much the authority on what’s good shit and what isn’t. I don’t deserve you, they know it, I know it, for some fuckin’ reason, you don’t know it, so let me make this clear for you, Bunny. This shit shouldn’t be so hard. I’m hurting you. That’s not what being in love with you feels like for me. My love for you isn’t good enough, because it’s making you suffer. Being in love with you gives me a fuckin’ reason to breathe. So I was trying to be fuckin’ good. And let you go.”

Charlotte watches as he finishes, standing in front of her. Blue eyes bloodshot. The veins in his neck popping out, his chest rising and falling with effort. He looks so serious. And all she can do is laugh. Literally, put her head in her hands and laugh. 

“Um…what the fuck?” he asks incredulously, watching her shoulders shake with her laughter. 

“You’re such an asshole, Phillip.” she giggles, wiping her wet cheeks, gasping in an attempt to stop her own laughter. 

“I’m really not fuckin’ gettin’ the joke here.”

Charlotte shakes her head, crossing her legs as she sits up fully in the chair, trying not to break at the confusion on his face. “Don’t you think it’s a little too late for you to decide that you want to save me the trouble of being in love with you? You pursued me, you asked me to marry you, you made me love you and it's too late. I’m stuck. You leave, I’m still hurt. You stay, you can choose to man up, make good on your promises, stop feeling sorry for yourself and be a good husband. You want to stop hurting me, then stop hurting me. Stop talking about me deserving better and be better.”

The couple stares at each other from across the room, nothing but white noise from the house fills the air as Charlotte’s challenge hangs between them. A few beats pass before Lip begins slightly nodding his head, the same focused face he keeps when he’s working on a project from work, or doing people’s taxes for extra money. Lip smooths his hand over his jaw, clearing his throat. “Okay. I’ll be better.” 

“Okay.” 

“Can I…uh, hold on a second.” The blond murmurs, crossing the floor and places his hand on her jaw, dragging her up into a deep kiss, absolutely breathing her in as he nearly pushes her chair back with the force he pushes against her. He breaks away only lightly, his lips against hers, as he speaks. “I love you. I’ll be better.”

“I love you too.” she smiles. “And I know.” 

This is good…this is better. I’ll deal with the rest later.

[sarahsmi13s]

When Sharks Attack

whumptober day 9: scar reveal

pairing: evan 'buck' buckley x reader

characters: evan buckley, fem!reader, the 118

warnings: blood, shark attacks, scar reveal, language, anxiety attack, let me know if i missed anything please

word count: ~1.3k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: when a call takes you to the scene of a shark attack you can't help but feel a sense of deja vu and reveal the one think you never thought you could

You sighed as you looked in the mirror, your fingers running over the arch shaped scar on your skin. It was old but it was as visible as ever. The scar rounded your hip before it disappeared under your waistband before it finished on the top half of your thigh. You were glad it was in a spot that could be hidden, but you also hated that you had to hide them.

It’s not that you were ashamed or anything, there was nothing to be ashamed of. But you didn’t want anyone to see the scars, they were jagged and ugly. You didn’t like people seeing them.

In the years since you obtained them, you had barely been intimate with anyone, not even your current partner, Buck.

You trusted him with your life, with everything. But in the past, people saw the marks on your torso and they ran. And you couldn’t lose Buck, you couldn’t.

You heard the bathroom door open and you dropped your shirt and started tucking it. 

“Hey, Cap has lunch ready,” Hen said as she poked her head in. You nodded and sent her a smile in the mirror, “Okay, thank you. I’ll be out in just a sec.” She smiled back and nodded, “Alright.”

She left, patting the door frame as she did, and you sighed a little before taking a deep breath and leaving the bathroom.

During lunch the bell went off. In the commotion all you caught was the location before you were getting in the truck and going toward the scene.

You had a pit in your stomach the whole ride to the beach and you didn’t know why. 

That was until you made it through the crowd of people on the dock and saw it.

A bull shark had gotten a hold of a fisherman and wouldn’t let go. 

The scent of copper and salt water filled your senses. Blood stained the dock and the man was shouting in pain as the beast refused to release him.

That pit in your stomach turned to bricks as you stopped moving. Your side began to burn and itch. You suddenly weren’t seeing the fisherman, but yourself on the dock next to your board and bleeding from your side.

You were 18 when it happened. You were surfing with some friends, padding into shore when a great white thought you looked like its next meal. The shark took a test bite out of your side and upper half of your thigh. It was a quick bite, but it was enough. 

Internal organs were damaged and you had nearly bled out on the beach but you were stabilized and taken to the hospital just in time. 

You survived, yes, but you haven’t gone back in the water since.

“Y/N? You okay?” Buck asked, turning to when he noticed you hadn’t moved.

With your heartbeat in your ears you hadn’t heard him and you all but shoved your gear in Bobby's chest and took off towards the engine.

They called after you but they quickly turned back to the emergency at hand.

You made it to the engine, leaning against it and ripping your button up open and untucking it and your undershirt.

Taking deep, grounding breaths, you rubbed and scratched at your side. 

Your scars always did this when you were stressed or when you got anxiety. Especially in the event of flashbacks or situations that triggered you.

Tears slipped down your cheeks and you wiped them away quickly with your free hand.

“Fuck, pull yourself together Y/N this is completely unprofessional,” you scolded as you tried to shake out the tension in your fingers. “You should be better than this. It's been 6 years.”

“Honey? Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” 

You gasped, startled as you felt Buck’s hands on you. You hadn’t heard him calling for you or running up to you. 

“Not-Nothing Buck, it’s okay. I’m okay.” You had dropped your shirt and looked up at Buck’s eyes to find them fixated on your side.

Shit. He saw.

“Buck..” 

“What happened?”

You sighed and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the cab of the engine and getting in. You closed the door and sat across from him. You rested your arms on your knees and played with your fingers. Now was the moment, and you were dreading it.

“The summer before I went to college… a few friends and I were surfing, on this beach actually,” you started not looking Buck in the eye. He mimicked your position and spoke softly to you, “I didn’t know you were a surfer.” You chuckled dryly, “I’m not… not anymore.” 

Buck just nodded, staying silent as you continued. “We were paddling into shore and all of a sudden I had this intense, hot pain in my side… A um, a great white had taken a test bite. I was brought into shore and I almost bled out in the sand.”

“But you didn’t,” Buck said, holding your hand in his. “You’re here, with us, with me.”  You nodded, sniffling a little. “I know that, I know. I just – it was terrifying…”

He nodded and kissed your hands. “I-I’m sorry I never told you sooner…” “Don’t apologize, honey. You don’t owe me anything,” he soothed, rubbing your knuckles.

You sniffle again and pull your hands away to wipe your eyes. “I should have been more professional, it was 6 years ago…” He shook his head, “Hey, you can’t control how situations make you feel, Y/N.” “I guess not…” 

Buck’s eyes flicked from your face to your side as he bit his lip. He knew it wasn’t his place, but he had to ask.

“Why did you never tell me?”

You sighed, “I was scared…” He furrowed his brow, “Scared? Scared of what?” You wrapped your arms around yourself, “They aren’t… pretty. And when people have seen them in the past…”

Buck’s heart broke. “You thought I would leave you…” You nodded, not looking at him. He tilted your chin up, “I don’t care about some scars, Y/N. They make you you.”

“You might not say that after you see them…” 

“Then show me…”

Your head whipped up to him, “Wh-what?” His face was nothing but serious, “Show me, Y/N.”

His blue eyes held nothing but genuineness and you nodded before standing.

Gulping, you lift up your shirt and look away from him as he sees the entirety of your scar. “If you want to end it-” He cut you off, “Don’t even finish that thought, I’m not going anywhere.”

He brings his hand up, his fingertips running over the marked skin delicately. 

“They’re beautiful…” 

You snorted, “I appreciate the lie Buck…” “I’m not lying. Do you know what scars mean?” You didn’t respond, looking down at your boots. “They mean you survived. That attack could have one or two outcomes. One of those outcomes includes me never getting the chance to meet you, and the other includes you and me in this truck having this conversation.”

He stood, “So, they’re beautiful because you are. Because you are alive.” 

You looked up at him as his finger hooked under your chin, “I love them because I love you. Nothing will ever change that.” 

You capture his lips in a kiss as tears still slip down your face. “Thank you, Buck… I love you too. But… I still don’t think I’m ready for sex, there’s just a lot I think I need to work through,” you told him honestly. He nodded and pecked your lips, “Whenever you're ready, I’ll be there. And I’ll be by your side until then.”

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, “Thank you Buck.” He kissed your head, “Any time Y/N.”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

[emisprocrastinatingbywriting]

Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 14 Summary:

The road to Jackson had been difficult, lives and bonds having already been tested, but nothing could have prepared you for this. When a petty fight and a subsequent make up session turns into the fight of your lives, will either of be able to escape?

Warnings: Angst, Abandonment Issues, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Cults, Blood Sacrifice, Smut, Oral m&f receiving, Breeding Kink!Joel (u can't change my mind on that), Joel Def Has Needed a Hug Since Like 2003, Reader Having Major Anxieties About the Future.

A/N:

Hello my loves, we're back! Missed y'all, I've been putting my whole coochie into this one so prepare yourselves.

This week, the road to Jackson continues. This one is a little heavy on the violence, as different sort of group is introduced to reader and Joel. So if that bothers you, please err on the side of caution. Along with that, some talk about reader's former group(cult) so if there's some religious trauma lurking inside, maybe sit this one out. As always, take care of yourselves and you could always message me for sparknotes later haha. Aside from that, I do feed y'all with some smut too! Gotta have balance ya know :)

Let me know what you think! Enjoy <3

Chapter 14/20

Chapter 14: The Road to Jackson Pt. 2

The second the beaten up truck had crossed over state lines into Wyoming, an anvil of stress had been placed on Joel’s shoulders. Despite the finish line being in sight, it was like he couldn’t breathe without you within arm’s reach. It had been four days since the daring escape from the library in Montana and he had been stuck to you like glue ever since. He was almost manic in the way he chased after you, never allowing you to take a single step without him directly behind you. 

At first it was sweet, albeit a little annoying, but you allowed it because of how scared he seemed. Joel had sobbed, actually sobbed, into your chest before he promptly passed out from the exhaustion of it all against your shoulder. After driving for the entirety of the day, hoping desperately that the signs you followed were somewhat accurate. Did the Jackson community that Joel’s brother lived in, actually reside in the bones of where Jackson county used to be? Was it somewhere nearby? You weren’t sure, but following the blocked letters on the faded highway signs was preferable to waking the man that snored into your ear. 

Once the sun was long gone from the sky and the road became barely visible to your tired eyes, you finally pulled off into a weigh station for transport trucks. Parking behind the small building where the department of transportation had once surveyed the area, you peered out the windows. An abandoned transport sat across from you, but there was no sign of whoever had been driving it twenty years prior. Nor was there any sign of life from the brick building to your left that looked like it had a hole blown into the side of it. With no reason to put it off any longer, you finally bit the bullet and woke Joel up. 

Joel had woken with a start, as you knew he would, which he quickly tried to pass off as a stupid dream. He laughed when you tried to pry at first but all it took was a sideways glance and a sassy, “are you fucking serious Joel?”, for him to break. He sighed, explaining how he was terrified of losing you, despite the constant reassurances that you were fine.

“I just won’t do it, I can’t do it baby. I’ve lost so much and this…,” Joel trailed off, rubbing mindlessly at his chest with his clenched fist. 

“This is a lot,” you finished for him. 

He nodded, his big brown eyes making your heart ache inside your chest. Biting your lip to keep it from trembling, you hummed in acknowledgement. What could you say to quell his fears? This situation, the situations that came before that one, and the one before that, were all a lot. 

Joel was a lot. 

You were a lot. 

The baggage the two of you carried was heavy, along with the baggage you both accumulated along the way, but the pain was worth the prize. Or at least, you thought so. 

You sighed, “What can I do?” 

“Just let me fuss over ya for a while. I promise I don’t mean nothing by it, I just…”

“I get it, you want to stay close to me for a bit. It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you finished for him once more, smiling when he finally released some of the tension from his shoulders. 

He was scared of losing the only person he had, or at least the only person he truly let himself have. That was understandable and you decided to grant him the favor of becoming your shadow as you made the way to Jackson. For the first two days it was cute, but the constant hovering soon got old. Usually it was you chasing after Joel but now it was him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him around, just that you preferred to not trip over him at every turn. 

The fact that the rugged ex hunter, ex smuggler, ex contractor, Mr. Joel Miller was anxious enough to be perpetually underfoot while on the dangerous route was unbelievable. And it was that implausibility that kept you silent on the matter, despite the bitter annoyance that bloomed in your chest. If he was truly scared enough to be careless, you felt as though you needed to grant him his fussing. It was only after Joel had almost gotten the two of you killed in a gas station that you had to finally put your foot down. 

With over half of the fourth day on the road already behind you, along with an upset stomach and the need for fresh air, you had begged Joel to pull off into a rest stop. In actuality, you needed space but the moment your feet touched the ground, he was already in front of you. Normally that wouldn’t bother you but with how tired you were, you had to swallow the urge to snap at him. 

Joel, unbeknownst to your angst, followed closely behind as you trudged into the store. When the door slid open after a few tries, you stepped inside and waited for any sign of predators but none came. When he pressed a finger to his lips, you nodded, vowing to be quiet as you searched the shelves for anything of use. You had halted in one of the aisles to examine a slightly water damaged box of tampons, kicking yourself for forgetting to ask Joel to grab some out of your mother’s washroom before you left. However, the box fell from your hands when a wall of muscle had knocked into you. 

Joel had slammed into you from behind, causing you to trip over a nearby display. He caught you on the way down, ensuring that you didn’t tumble down with the cardboard cutout advertising a new flavor of cola. Although you were safe from falling on your ass, that didn’t stop the loud smack that alerted the infected souls that soon came pouring out of the back room. 

Needlessly cussing him out as you scrambled back towards the truck, Joel had closed the door right in time for a half a dozen clickers to slam themselves into the driver’s side. When he finally managed to shift it into drive, his window was seconds from breaking. The spiderwebbed glass glared at you as Joel veered back on to the highway, making your chest tight with fear and hot with rage. It was truly a miracle that you had made it out of there alive and while he was elated by that fact, you were pissed. 

“Jesus honey, that was fucking close,” Joel laughed. 

The laughter grated on you, forcing out a response that you had been keeping back for days. 

“Well maybe, if you hadn’t been up my ass then that wouldn’t have fucking happened Joel!,” you snapped. 

And so the argument began. While you were trying to explain how you didn’t need him to hover over you like some sort of mama bear, Joel was countering it by arguing that he was just trying to make sure you were safe. It was maddening, the same fight between the two of you being hashed out over and over until one party finally apologized, but this time both of you were unwilling to break. 

Perhaps it was the stress of the road, or perhaps it was the exhaustion that had settled in your bones in the days since leaving the library, but you didn’t have the patience for it any longer. For the entirety of the day, Joel had been forced to constantly reroute the path to Jackson due to the snow or piled up cars and junk in the way. You were getting nowhere fast and with the gas dwindling, the stress of the situation started to weigh down on your increasingly fragile patience. When he had finally found an open road around midday, whooping as he pulled the truck back onto the highway, you were well past being soothed. That, along with the close call that had just happened, had you primed and ready for some desperately needed crying. 

The need for sleep, a deep and peaceful one where Joel was curved around your backside, holding you tightly as you both dreamed, was becoming dire. Bags gathered around your eyes and your skin had grown dull from the small portions you barely managed to gulp down, yet you tried to push through the stress for his sake. You felt ridiculous, cursing yourself for being so weak while Joel seemed completely fine with the few hours of sleep he got during your short turns behind the wheel. Feeling tired of the fighting, of the road, of him, of yourself, you finally dissolved into a puddle of tears. 

The bickering between Joel and you was in full swing. Both of you had already said your piece about his constant presence but he continued to pick and somewhere in the haze of it all, you got lost. Loneliness and exhaustion curved your spine, making you slump down in your seat as Joel ranted about safety. He was missing the point of your argument but you didn’t care anymore. Aching for the quiet home in the woods that you had known for just a little over two months, along with a mate whose emotions weren’t rubbed quite as raw as his were now, the tears came quick. 

The guilt of being upset with Joel for caring too much pressed into your chest, making you hold in all of the pained cries that thickened the lining of your throat for as long as you possibly could. You knew he had reason to feel how he did. Joel had said so himself, he had lost so much. And you? Well, you were the bitch that snapped at him for giving a damn. Feeling overwhelmed and childish, you chewed at your lips until they were red with blood and tried to focus on the road ahead. 

“ - And that ain’t gonna fly with me darling, I’m not letting you out of my sight until - wait, what? Sweetheart, are you crying?,” Joel suddenly asked, his voice growing soft as he looked over and saw the wet trails that glistened on your cheeks. 

“No,” you croaked. 

The sob that weasled its way out of your mouth betrayed the response and Joel cussed. Quietly berating himself as you tried to will the pesky tears away, he slowly came to a stop along the side of the road. Nothing but trees and abandoned cars surrounded the truck, aside from a sign boasting a small town a couple miles away. You stared at the faded faces of town residents that smiled down at the oncoming traffic, noticing how they were all dressed in the garb of their respective agricultural professions. 

The farmer’s face was almost completely blurred with time and it reminded you of the concaved skull of the alpha that had choked you back at the library. His head had cracked open under the strength of Joel’s fists and the sound that it had made while doing so was something you would never forget. Thinking about the wet crunch of his knuckles slamming through bone, you were suddenly reminded of where you were. 

You were bawling in a parked truck in the middle of nowhere, with Joel scooching towards you to provide comfort, and all you could feel was embarrassment. This was no time for a crying session about the woes of traveling, or for petty fights with a partner over someone standing a little too close, it was a time to act. Wiping the tears from your cheeks before Joel could get to them, you quickly plastered on a sugary smile and shook your head at his advances. 

“I’m sorry, it’s fine. I’m actually fine, just a bit tired,” you said in a chirper tone, making Joel’s hands freeze mid air. 

He blinked, “But… You’re crying?”

The laugh you gave him was forced, sounding high pitched and off key to even your own ears, but Joel didn’t flinch. He just looked absolutely flabbergasted as you tried hopelessly to push him away. You inwardly cursed him for being able to read you so well. No matter how hard you tried to fix the smile on your face, it refused to come off as anything other than fake and Joel easily saw right through it. 

“I’m totally fine babe, just a bit tired is all. Nothing a nap can’t fix,” you promised. 

Joel nodded dumbly, seemingly unconvinced but unwilling to push the topic any further in fear that you might start sobbing again. He dropped his hands, looking down at them for a moment before he slowly brought them back to the steering wheel. Clearing his throat as he pulled back onto the road, he continued to give you sideways glances as he drove. 

The constant attention made your cheeks burn and you focused on playing with the hem of your sweater. An awkward silence fell over the truck as it roared down the highway, but you kept your eyes on frayed hem in hopes that he might leave it. In fact, you were so absorbed in the fabric that you didn’t realize he was getting off the highway to park under an overpass until he had already done it. As he threw the truck into park again, you started to object but he held a hand up. 

“Hey, I know you’re fine baby but let’s just rest a while. I’m tired, you’re tired, let’s just take a few seconds to breathe before we keep going,” Joel suggested, rubbing your back with his warm hand.  

“Okay,” you whimpered, biting your lip to keep any more tears away. 

“Okay,” he mimicked. 

Joel opened his arms and you crashed into them, greedy for his touch despite the fact that you were ready to kill him back at that gas station. Although it was him who had pissed you off in the first place with his constant hovering, he was also the only person that could calm you down by simply existing. Without even having to be asked, he spread his legs out on the bench and leaned against the door as you straddled him. Pushing your face into his chest and nosing at his neck until he sighed, you let a few more tears slip as you scented him. 

“What’s got you so riled up baby? I know I’ve been breathing down your neck a bit, but did I say something to piss you off? I know I can be an asshole, but you can tell me. Whatever it is, m’sorry sweet girl,” he murmured. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you tried to think of a response. What was it that was riling you up so much? For that question, you had no answers. Sure, there was the exhaustion, but that had never bothered you before. Was it the injuries you had accumulated finally coming to bite you in the ass? Was it the fact that Joel had acted as your shadow for four days straight? Maybe it was a little of all of the above, but that didn’t account for the way you looked like you were about to keel over. 

“I honestly don’t know Joel,” you answered truthfully, “I didn’t mean to start anything, I just feel so tired and gross. You were looking out for me, I know that, and now I feel like a burden.” 

A fresh round of tears poured from your tear ducts at the admission, making you shove your face deeper into him to cry against his skin. Joel sucked in a breath and reached up to cup the back of your head with one hand, cradling it as you released all of the pent up emotions. As you cried, he snaked one hand under your shirt to draw circles over your hip, his signature move for times of crisis. Just like always, it worked like a charm. 

Ever so carefully, he pulled your head back, shushing your whines as he began to rub his face over the mark on your neck. You whimpered, allowing him to mark you with his scent until it coated the back of your throat. Joel continued his assault, kissing and nibbling on the sensitive skin until you sagged into him. When you were finally sated, he kept one hand on the small of your back and the other dug into your knotted hair, scritching your scalp as you huffed at his skin. 

“Why would you think that babygirl? You were the one that got us out of that town back there, not me. If anything, this old man is the burden,” Joel joked, trying anything to wipe the frown from your face. 

You laughed a little, feeling his small smile of victory against your cheek.  

“What can I do?,” Joel whispered, unwittingly repeating the words you had said to him just days before. 

You smiled a bit more at that. Mutual support with a partner, as flawed as it may be in practice, was something you had only dreamed about once upon a time. A pipe dream, you had thought. Joel wasn’t perfect, and neither were you, but you were both trying to understand the other. After taking one last hit of his musk through your nose, you leaned back and looked at him. His eyes were full of concern, the worry line between his brows sticking out as he placed his hands on your hips. 

“Need me to back off and give you some space while we’re out? Cus I can’t make any promises darling, but I’ll try. If that’s what you want, I mean,” he continued. 

“I don’t - well, I mean I do want you to back off a bit. But maybe just like, two paces back when we are in a high risk area? That way you don’t knock me over and alert half the fucking neighborhood again,” you teased. 

He smiled and gave a mock salute, “Yes ma’am.” 

The giggle he pulled from you this time was more genuine and it softened some of the built up tension in the truck. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence afterwards, you snuggling deeper into his chest in an attempt to fuse yourself to his skin as you drifted in and out of sleep. It was funny, earlier you wanted him to leave you alone but now you needed him closer. He hummed at your constant readjusting, patient as ever despite the requests to hug you tighter and the way your fingers dug into his skin in return. 

Once you finally found the right position, sat between his legs with your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you, all of the stress of the day vanished and you were asleep in seconds. However, when the driver’s side door was suddenly thrust open in the dead of night and the both of you were tumbling out of the warmth of the truck, you realized that the position had also worked on the man that was supposed to be keeping watch. Joel groaned as you landed on top of him, his entire upper body squished upon your ungraceful fall to the ground. 

“Freeze! Hands in the air, now!,” a gruff voice commanded. 

In a flash, Joel was reaching for the gun that toppled into the snow beside him but it was kicked away by one of the many beings with glaringly bright flashlights. 

“Not so fast big boy, show me your hands or missy here gets one put right between her eyes,” another voice threatened. 

Joel hesitantly followed their instruction, gesturing for you to do the same as he lifted his hands above his head for the group of strangers to see. You paused, trying to think of a way you could get to the knife that you had shoved inside the waistband of your pants but as one of the assailants noisily cocked their gun, you raised your hands alongside him. The fear that Joel felt was reciprocated by you, the bond making your growing panic ping pong off of eachother until you were both rabid with hormones. The need to protect Joel was so powerful that every movement that wasn’t focused on getting him out of here was painful. 

When you caught his eye, Joel subtly shook his head, as if to warn you against any brash decision. Despite the desire to jump up and rip the face off the man who threatened him, you nodded once in return. There would be no getting out of this if you didn’t remain calm. Schooling your face to match Joel’s signature look of annoyed indifference, you attempted to give off the air of not giving a fuck. He was definitely more natural about it, but yours ended up being so convincing that Joel gave you a slight dip of the head in encouragement. 

“On your feet, let’s go.” 

With your hands up, the faceless guards behind flashlights led you away from the truck and towards town. Despite his mask of indifference, Joel’s eyes bounced around and tried to pick out an escape route. However, if it was much too dark for you to see anything, there was no way Joel would be able to. As the wind blew across the flat ground, kicking up snow and freezing the moisture in the corners of your eyes, it was impossible to see anything that was more than five feet away. 

They walked you for what felt like miles, the air depleting your body of the warmth you had been spoiled with in the truck. The coats, along with the food and other supplies you needed to get to Jackson, were tucked away in the backseat and you prayed that wherever they were taking you was close. Joel stayed right at your side, his arm linked with yours as he trudged through the snow. He didn’t look at you aside from a few glances, too focused on the dangers around him until you finally reached the destination. 

An iron gate was slid open with a squeal, the black material rusted around the edges from years of being subjected to the harsh elements. You grimaced at the sound, whipping your head around to look for any sign of infected that might have heard the high pitched shriek. 

“There’s no infected nearby, the chosen ones and their offerings make sure of it,” someone assured you and you scoffed. 

“Is that so?,” Joel sighed, seemingly as unimpressed by the odd response as you were. 

A laugh came from your right and you glared towards the direction it came from. These people were full blooded dumbasses if they thought there was nothing stumbling around in the dark. Even at the camp you were in for most of your life, the one that was secure against infected for decades until one day it wasn’t, still saw both small and large groups stroll on by. The ones that were working the gate didn’t always engage, sometimes allowing them to pass if they didn’t notice the feast in the distance, but even the more fanatic guards never deluded themselves into thinking they were completely safe from them because of their religious beliefs. 

“The Teacher will protect us with her guidance, she makes sure that those who have been given the gift reunite with the truly wise. We cannot know their paths until we reach full redemption,” came from the other side of the group. 

“Oh fuck,” Joel said under his breath. 

Oh fuck was right. 

-

After taking you inside of the gate, you were shoved into the lobby of some worn down luxury hotel. Wax candles covered nearly every surface, giving the room a warm glow despite the bizarre paintings of a naked older woman that were plastered everywhere. Those ones were the least concerning, as the other ones depicted members of the group dancing with what looked to be infected. 

The residents that milled around were all dressed in strange beige garments that did little to compliment their figures, but you supposed that was the point. Josiah had never implemented a uniform for his group, but there were rules about modesty that everyone was supposed to follow which banished fun colors and anything that showed too much skin. The few omegas that you saw in the lobby were in long dresses that came down to their ankles, the high neck looking like it strangled them as they all sewed and weaved textiles for the group. The rest of the group seemed to be let off easy, with the alphas and betas donning flowier pants and a matching tunic that showcased way too much chest. 

Joel squeezed your hand as you were ushered into a larger room that had once been a ballroom. The room was lined with tables where families chowed down on steaming heaps of food. The smell of freshly cooked stew drifted over from their plates and your mouth watered. The way your stomach growled as you watched a young girl dig into chunks of tender meat was almost unbearable. You averted your eyes, choosing instead to focus on the long table that was placed on the stage. 

A group of serious looking older men and women sat there, all scowling down at you as the guards shoved you forward. The one exception being the woman that sat directly in the middle of them all. She was different from the rest of the group by clothing alone, hers being a deep shade of blue that was in stark contrast to the sea of beige around her. As the community members with guns urged you further into the room, she stood and all of the spoons that scraped bits of food off the inside of bowls were collectively dropped. About a hundred voices were silenced by just the act of her standing up and you gulped, coming to the realization that the woman that stood proudly at the head of the table was the woman that was showcased on every wall. 

“My children, it seems we have newcomers. Can we all give them a warm welcome?,” she called, her voice gentle yet clear in the silence of the room. 

A hundred faces turned to look at Joel and you, their expressions completely somber as they heeded her command with a unified, “Welcome to the Thin Space, where The Teacher helps guide us towards truth.” 

“Oh no, no, no, no, no,” you whispered to no one in particular. 

Yeah, Joel had it right when he balked at the guards at the gate. 

As the faces quickly turned away in search of more instruction, you had an odd sense of deja vu. Looking out into the crowd, you saw quite a few children mixed in with the somber adults and wondered if you would have looked like this to an outsider back at your old camp. Josiah ordered the group to be obedient, to dress modestly, to speak a certain way, to act differently, to pray, and to follow the preacher’s words as law. This, despite its freaky ass twist, just seemed like a different brand of the same shit. Two sides of a fucked up coin that you had finally escaped, just to be pulled right back into it. 

“Bring our guests to the detox ward, then we can meet and go over their paths,” the woman commanded the guards, waving everyone off as she sat back at the head of the table. 

The moment she dropped back down to her seat, the rest of the room returned to eating and it made your stomach roil. Josiah had done that as well, stopping dinners to go on long spiels where he twisted the words of some ancient text to suit his own desires. Sometimes it would go on for hours and by the time he was finished, you were too tired to eat the meager portions that your mother allowed you to have. Most times, you ended up going to bed hungry with half cocked dreams about running away from home swirling through your mind. 

This woman, whoever she was and whatever she desired from her own followers, was no different than him. You felt it in your bones. And as the guards ushered the two of you away, the more bitter part of yourself that still had a bone to pick with Josiah made sure to send her a look that said exactly that. I know what you are, it screamed from across the room. It was a look that earned you a smile from her, a glass of red wine being raised in acknowledgement as you were led into a side hallway that held three bathrooms. The guards bypassed the men’s and women’s changing rooms, coming to a full stop in front of the door that said private. 

“You’ll go in first. Get clean and put on the clothes left out for you. Then come out and he’ll go in,” the man closest to you instructed. 

Joel scoffed, “Yeah, I don’t think so buddy. She stays with me.” 

The man scowled at Joel’s insolence but you were quick on your feet. Before a fight could break out between the two alphas, the both of them already red in the face at the slightest provocation from the other, you jumped in with something you knew would work. If they were anything like the group that haunted your dreams, they wouldn’t let Joel come in unless he held some sort of ownership over you. With the marks on your necks as clear as day, as well as your scents fused together from the bond itself, you knew it wasn’t a bond they were looking for. 

“Please sir, I don’t want to be without my husband. He doesn’t trust me to do these things by myself… You see, I’m so easily confused without him,” you whined, making your voice soft and needy to really drive home the point. 

Joel’s brows shot up in alarm and you shot him a look. Luckily, he managed to get it under control before the others could see. He straightened his back, making himself taller as you cowered under him to add to the effect. The man narrowed his eyes, flitting them back and forth between you and Joel before another guard came to the rescue. 

“We cannot take a husband away from his wife, especially not when she is of the simpler kind. That would only aggravate the both of them before The Teacher can see their true nature for herself,” the woman behind Joel argued. 

The man grunted in affirmation, nodding at you to push the door open before he shoved you in. Joel tumbled in afterwards, cursing as you knocked heads in the small space. 

The door slammed shut and you were shrouded in darkness, the only light being the candle that was half melted against the corner of the sink. A shelf with different types of clothes stacked on it was shoved into the corner, while a bucket of grayish water was placed in the shower. A crusty looking sponge laid next to the bucket and you shuddered at the thought of rubbing it across your body. 

“Okay, what the fuck was that?,” Joel whispered, waving his hands around in the air like some sort of cartoon character. 

You rolled your eyes at him, “I grew up with these types of people Joel. Of course I knew that the marriage card would work, you don’t need to get your panties in a twist.” 

Joel scrunched up his face at that, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose as he huffed out a frustrated breath. 

“Obviously, I’m not talking about you calling me your husband. We’re mated, why would I care about that? I don’t give a shit, we basically already are married anyways. I’m talking about the freaky deeky fucking cult we just walked into!,” he hissed in response. 

Him likening the two of you to a married couple didn’t go unnoticed but you shoved the poorly timed butterflies away, deciding that now was not the best time to pick at him for answers to questions you weren’t sure you wanted to ask. Instead you nodded, focusing on his panicked response to a group that seemed so foreign to him, yet so familiar to you. 

“I know but if they haven’t killed us yet, they probably have something else in store. It’s best if we go along with it for now, just until we know what type of crazy they are,” you muttered, moving to grab the long and surprisingly itchy dress from the pile. 

Joel grabbed the fabric from your hands, tossing it back onto the shelf as you started to undress. You gave him a pointed look, stepping out of your pants and reaching to grab it again but he intercepted every attempt. 

“Stop it Joel!,” you whispered angrily, softly slapping away his hands in frustration. 

He guffawed, “You can’t be serious right now, you’re going to let them put us in these weird ass get ups?” 

You sighed, grabbing the sides of his face and bringing it closer until his forehead rested against your own. Joel allowed you to do it, although you felt the tension that still bunched all of the muscles in his arms as he gripped your hips a tad too harshly in return. With his emotions running high, you knew that it was best to tread lightly. 

The anxiety you felt in that moment was geared towards the purpose of the group, rather than the group itself. For you, these people were easy to read. Whereas Joel was in a foreign place with strange people that clearly had even stranger beliefs. He was in limbo, while you felt like you were back home for a family visit. Sighing at his outburst, you tried to reason with him. 

“We have no guns, no getaway car, and no idea what we are up against here. But you know what we do have?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, “No, what do we have?”

“Me, someone who grew up with people like this. I know these people Joel, just trust me. We need to know what they want, then we can figure out how to leave, okay?,” you asked, waiting patiently for his affirmation. 

He made a disgruntled noise, starting to fight back with a strained, “Well, I don’t know if your upbringing is gonna really help if they -” 

“And we have this,” you continued, holding up the knife you had tucked away. 

Joel’s eyes widened and he snatched it from you, holding it up to the light like he couldn’t believe it was real. He sucked in a deep breath, nodding to himself as his mind worked through the possibilities your hidden treasure unlocked. 

“Good, this is really good darling. We can use this to get out, just have to find the right time,” he muttered, his fingers drumming against his pant leg as the knife lifted him from complete despair. 

You nodded, “I know, so get your damn clothes off and let’s try to fit in with these freaks. Once we know more, you take point and get through as many of them as you can. I’ll grab something and cover you.” 

Joel’s face drifted into shock for a second. The directness of your words surprised him, you could tell by the way his eyes flicked up and down your figure like he was seeing it for the first time. Then he looked almost proud as he nodded in agreement. 

“Well ain’t you full of surprises? Alright troublemaker, I’m game,” he agreed. 

“I try,” you said cheekily. 

After a few loaded seconds where Joel stared at you, analyzing for any sign of hesitation, he finally allowed you to pick up the terrible dress again. He began with begrudgingly taking off his thick flannel, whipping off the white tee he had on underneath before he quickly added his jeans to the pile. The long shirt that they left for him showed off a good chunk of his chest yet was long enough to fall almost to his knees, making him frown as he slipped it over his head. 

Once he had the loose linen pants on, you watched as he tried to shove some of the excess fabric into the waistline to aid in his appearance. It sort of worked, but you couldn’t help but think he looked like was supposed to be in a circle somewhere, poorly playing the bongos as he talked about free love and the best kind of pot to smoke. 

“Hey Joel,” you called out, a cheeky grin tugging at the corners of your lips.  

He stilled his efforts, turning to face you as the dress finally rolled over your thighs. The fabric was tighter than you thought, with the beige material practically strangling you until it randomly got flowy at the knees. Clearly whoever had made this didn’t account for your body shape, as your breasts were pushed into your lungs, making breathing difficult with the pressure. The waist barely fit around the fat on your hips that Joel loved to squeeze, and you had the feeling that a single sneeze would burst the curves from their cruel beige confines. 

“Yeah baby?,” he answered, concern etched into his face as he dropped the hands that fussed at his waistband. 

“Looking far out man,” you teased, giving him a peace sign that made him snort. 

“How in the hell do you know what that means? Fuck it, you know what? All you need is a fucking sleeping cap and a candle, and you’d be the spitting image of Ebeneezer Scrooge. So, take that you dork,” Joel bit back. 

You rolled your eyes, “Jokes on you old man, I’ve got no fucking idea who the hell Ebersneezer Stooge is.” 

“What the fuck did you just call him?,” Joel snickered, groaning about his age when you shrugged in response. 

“Whatever hippy,” you giggled. 

The sound of his muted laughter echoed throughout the room, leading to three solid raps against the door that made you both jump. Joel flicked his eyes towards the entrance before he glanced back at you. A reassuring look was plastered on his face and you tried to mimic it for his sake. Whether you achieved it or not, you couldn’t say. The door being slammed open by the gun toting guards forced you back into a much darker reality, one that didn’t leave time to check on Joel’s feelings. The only consolation you had in the dire situation you found yourself in was the fact that he had the knife hidden somewhere on him, ensuring that he could protect himself if this went sideways. 

“Out, it’s time for you to meet her,” the guard said, urging the two of you out of the room with the barrel of his gun.

Walking through the dingy space, you were led out to a longer, more smokier hallway that was lined with a ridiculous amount of candles and burning herbs. Your nose wrinkled from the smell of incense, tobacco, sweat, weed and blood. The air was thick, weighing down on your chest like it was a living being. Joel sneezed loudly behind you, muttering to himself about new age stoners and hygiene as he grimaced at the state of the place. If the situation had been better, perhaps his grumbling would have made you laugh. But instead, you were tense as the guards led you to the room at the end of the hall that had strange symbols painted across it. Mesmerized by the loopy script that covered every inch of the wood, you took a step closer to examine it. 

Just as you reached it, a guard pushed you back with his forearm, knocking you directly into Joel. He caught you in his arms, barely able to keep his threatening growls to a minimum as he lifted you back on to your feet. Rage simmered off of him, so much so that you felt it when he geared himself up to spit out an insult. Sensing the disaster that brewed in the air, you pressed your spine into Joel’s front, grounding him with the proximity. 

“Breathe baby, eyes on the prize,” you whispered into his ear for good measure. 

Joel’s body remained as taught as can be, but you squeezed his hand in thanks when you felt his jaw click shut. The sound of his angry teeth grinding was never pleasant and would certainly give him a hell of a migraine later, but it was better than the alternative of him being shot for mouthing off at one of them. 

The door opened after the guard knocked twice, revealing another dimly lit room that was filled with half melted candles and reeked of a mix of bodily fluids and incense. There were more paintings pinned to the walls, depicting different scenes with the group and the beings they seemed to revere. It was the one at the center that took you off guard. The painting showed a woman holding a baby in her arms, while an infected person is wrapped around them both, almost as if they were protecting them. 

“Ah, I see you have found our scripture. Beautiful, isn’t it? Nature becomes one again so that the world may heal, that is our truth,” the woman practically sang. 

The guards behind you all made a noise in affirmation, nodding at her words as they waited for orders. 

“Fabian, stay here with me. Elaine and Thomas, go back to your posts, and the rest of you guard the door,” she instructed. 

The door swung shut behind the four that left, leaving Joel and you alone with the woman and her loyal servant. Fabian stood to the side, his hands folded behind his back and his eyes straightforward, looking out into a void as he waited for her signal like some sort of highly trained guard dog. It made you sick. 

“Please, do sit,” she said, gesturing towards one of the couches that had way too many throw pillows and blankets on it. 

Joel went first and you followed, gingerly sitting on the edge of your seat as the woman drifted throughout the room. She grabbed three mugs from a desk in the corner, along with a steaming kettle that filled the room with the smell of citrus and herbs. Placing each cup down on the coffee table, she filled them and gestured for you to take the tea before she took hers. You looked at Joel and nodded towards the cup, motioning for him to follow your lead as you picked it up. 

The smell of the tea, whatever kind it was, was mouth watering and you had a hard time convincing yourself not to drink it. It was only after you watched the woman down half of her cup that you decided it was safe enough. Absolutely parched from the road, you gingerly allowed yourself a small sip. The tea was bursting with different fruit flavors, making you muscle through a moan as your weak stomach was finally soothed by the delicious hot water. 

“Good right? We make that ourselves, along with everything else you see here,” she explained. 

Taking one last big gulp of the drink, you sat the mostly empty cup back down and straightened up. Again, Joel followed your lead and discarded his cup on the coffee table before he sat back. You could feel his concern and reached back to squeeze his thigh, earning a pat to the back of your hand in the process. 

“Interesting,” she smirked. 

You cocked an eyebrow at her, “What’s interesting?” 

“The dynamic between you two is interesting, I’d like to know more,” she answered. 

Joel scoffed and you narrowed your eyes at her. That statement sounded like a slight but to which party? You weren’t entirely sure. Clearly, Joel thought it was himself that had been insulted because he quickly started in on a defense. 

“With all due respect ma’am, I’m not -”

Fabien was over in a flash, smacking Joel against the back of his head with a rolled up newspaper like he was some sort of abused dog. You shot up out of your seat, placing your hands on Fabien’s chest to push him back in return. The loyal servant stumbled back, glaring at you before he stepped forward to strike again, but the woman raised her hand in the air. Upon seeing her hand raised, Fabien went back to his job as a statue. 

“That’s enough Fabien, they are new. They don’t know our rules,” she crooned. 

“One is not to speak to The Teacher unless The Teacher speaks to you,” Fabien answered coolly, almost like he was reading from a script. 

She nodded and raised her eyebrow at Joel, refilling all of the cups once more before she leaned back against the cushions. Bringing her feet up from the floor and wrapping herself in a blanket, you suddenly felt like it was you two who were intruding on her day. Despite your growing frustration at the situation, she was as cool as a cucumber. 

“I was talking to her, the guard dog will get his turn soon enough,” she said to Joel. 

You balked and looked at him, noticing how blotches of redness bloomed across his cheekbones from the slight. Despite the urge to comfort him, you looked back towards the woman and responded for the both of you. 

“Sure, maybe our dynamic is weird to some people but why would I talk to you about it? I don’t know who you are or what you want from us,” you argued. 

Taking a sip of her drink, she mulled it over a second. Joel sighed in annoyance, with his patience for the situation already growing slim, and you grabbed his hand, squeezing it three times to calm him down. He was right, what she was doing WAS incredibly annoying. She was playing with you two, pretending to think things over before she gave the answers she had already thought up beforehand. You knew it and Joel knew it, but you had to stay calm. 

“My name is Aspen, but my group has taken to calling me The Teacher. You may call me whatever you wish to, it is not up to me to decide how I am labeled,” she explained. 

You raised an eyebrow at that, “And what is it that you teach them exactly?” 

Aspen smiled then, gesturing to the paintings around her with bright eyes. Her smile was wide, showcasing a clean set of teeth with long canines that put you on edge. The wrinkles on her face were few, yet her hair was completely gray. You couldn’t tell if she was 60 or 85 and every second that passed only made you more unable to figure it out. 

“This place,” she said while holding her hands out wide, “Is the Thin Place. It is the one place on earth where our world and theirs come together, creating a thin space for us to reside in until we may all be one again.” 

Looking at all of the paintings around you, a funny feeling began to bloom in your chest. Maybe this group was a bit different than yours afterall. To quell the nerves that beaded sweat along your hairline, you picked up the cup and chugged it down. Scenes of infected dancing with humans, bringing them into their horde before turning them made your stomach flip. Along with the more brutal scenes of people being strapped down before being bled, their blood gifted to the growing horde as some sort of offering. And one of the main paintings, the sick piece with a woman birthing a baby, only to allow herself and her child to be coddled by an infected man. 

“And how,” you cleared your throat, “How do you do that? How do you make the two worlds come together?” 

Aspen chuckled, “All in good time my child, you will know when the truth is revealed.”

Joel huffed out a breath and rubbed his eyes, unable to stop himself from grumbling at her response. She narrowed her eyes at him, examining his face in a way that made you want to shield him from her gaze. It was like he was a piece of meat, her tongue running over her gleaming teeth as she raked her eyes up and down his form. 

“And what is it that you have to say sir? Please, we’re all friends here,” she declared. 

Joel huffed out a laugh, “How ‘bout you cut the shit and tell us why we’re here, hm? Cus with all due respect ma’am, I’m not buying what it is you’re selling. If I need God, my mama raised me in a church, I know where to find him. Until then, I’m good.”

Aspen laughed, a shrill and grating sound that had you wincing as Joel shifted uncomfortably beside you. Looking over, it seemed she was getting to him too as sweat had begun to dampen his tunic. The light of the room shined down on his face, making him look almost ethereal for a moment and you had the strange urge to lick him but ignored it. Instead, you watched as he gulped down his second cup of tea and placed it next to yours. As he leaned back, Joel’s hands came up to rub at his eyes and you couldn’t help but notice how the hair on his arm moved as though there was a breeze in the room. It was strange, you had never looked too closely at the dark curls smattered across his forearms before but now they were all you could see. 

“I’m not talking about God. I’m talking about the only truth in this world,” she explained, standing up and walking over to the paintings to point at what she meant. 

“Th-the infected?,” you asked, feeling a little dizzy as you tried to understand what she was trying to say. 

Aspen hummed, “Yes, only a select few are chosen as an offering to them. Once they are given the gift, they will know the truth of the world. And us, their humble servants, will be rewarded with a feast. That is, until the messiah comes to bring us all together.” 

Joel giggled beside you and you turned, noticing how your vision stuttered before finally focusing on his face. His head was laid against the back of the couch, a lazy smile on his face as he laughed at something that you couldn’t see. Leaning forward, you cupped his cheek and tried to bring his face forward but it only slumped back the moment you let go. He laughed again and your heart sank. 

“You - you drugged us,” you choked out. 

The room was stifling, making you sweat as the walls swelled and shrunk with each breath you took. As Joel continued to giggle, you scooched closer to him, seeking the comfort of his body despite the fact that his mind was in lala land. Gripping his arm and sliding up next to him, you pressed yourself against his side and tried to focus on the woman in front of you. 

“Your fingers are pretty baby, way prettier than mine,” Joel mumbled, laughing softly to himself as he played with your digits. 

You let him do it, too busy trying to pull yourself out of the nightmare you found yourself in. Everytime you focused on something for too long, it would slowly get warped until it was almost unrecognizable. The only thing that grounded you was Joel’s hands pulling your fingers up to his face, examining them with so much scrutiny that you were worried he was going to strain his eyes. 

“A part of stepping into the next part of life is forgetting this one. In order to cleanse you of the toxins of this world, you’ve drunk the tea along with me. Now, the ceremony can begin,” Aspen said excitedly, reaching forward to ring the bell. 

“What ceremony? What? What the fuck is happening?,” you cried out, ripping your hands from Joel as the guards at the door barged in. 

Joel whined at the loss but you ignored him. Instead, you shot up and stood before him, ready to fend off the guards as they crept closer. It was hard to tell how far away they were, as your depth perception and internal clock was all off. One moment the men were standing menacingly in the doorframe, the next moment one of them was lifting you over his shoulder. You screeched, uselessly pounding against the man’s back as he carried you away from the room but it felt like you were fighting someone while locked in a dream. The punches you landed were weak, almost laughable, but you still tried to squirm your way back to Joel. 

The blood rushed to your head, gorging your brain with the thick liquid and making you even dizzier as the guard carried you out into the hallway. Just as the edges of your eyes began to darken, signaling that the drug was starting to pull you into a deep sleep, you heard Joel call out from the other room. 

“Wha-? Whas - What’s happening? Where’d she go?!” 

That was the last thing you heard before passing out. 

- Joel - 

Joel’s head felt heavy as he lounged on the couch, playing with the fingers of his sweet girl while she talked to some lady. He didn’t remember getting to a safe place but maybe it was because he was so sleepy. As they conversed about things that were beyond his understanding, he brought her fingers up to look at them. 

Compared to his, they were so small. The skin was relatively unscarred, save for a few nicks and scrapes that would likely heal over in a few days. The only thing he was unsure about was the wrist. He grimly remembered shoving it back into place by himself after he found you and upon closer inspection, it looked relatively straight but the bruising was still pretty bad. Still, Joel couldn’t help but worry, especially with how the dark spots seemed to grow and shrink with every passing second. That couldn’t possibly be healthy. He giggled as the bruise shrunk again. What do I know, he thought, I’m not a fucking doctor.

Leaving the wrist behind, he returned to your fingers. They were the same digits that played with his hair until he fell asleep, the same ones that cupped his jaw and traced the scars on his chest, the same ones that brought him toe curling pleasure just days before, the same ones that did brutal things just to see to his freedom. He loved these hands and he loved you. Warmth filled his chest and the world got brighter as the euphoria he felt because of his love for you bled into his vision. 

“Your fingers are pretty baby, way prettier than mine,” Joel mumbled, continuing to move the digits around in his grasp. 

Turning his head for a moment, you were still engaged in the conversation you were having with the woman. Joel tried to wrack his brain for any elderly friends you had mentioned but couldn’t think of anyone other than Miriam and Rachel. Was she one of them? No, Joel thought, she couldn’t be either of them. They were dead, you had watched them die yourself. When his brain couldn’t conjure up an answer to the question, he let it go and watched you speak to the mystery woman. 

The way your skin glowed was breathtaking. Sweat dampened your hair,  making it look like it was encrusted with jewels. Everything about you screamed Goddess and Joel had a hard time not breaking into tears of joy. He always felt this way, like he was a mere mortal and you were the sun shining down on his face but in this moment, in the funny smelling room where he held your hands in his, it was overwhelming. The radiant woman that sat against his side was his mate and he couldn’t believe it. To keep himself from crying in front of the stranger he couldn’t place, and not wanting to embarrass you in front of your friends, Joel returned to examining your fingers again. 

Although, he was surprised when they were suddenly torn from his grasp and he whined at the loss. Joel’s vision went fuzzy for a second, the colors in the room swirling as his head buzzed with an unbelievable amount of pressure. He squinted, trying to figure out what was going on as the voices around him turned more urgent. By the time he managed to blink away the stars in his eyes, you were gone. 

Joel gasped, looking around the room with increasing urgency when you were nowhere to be found. Instead, all he saw was your friend talking in a low voice to another stranger. The man she was talking to looked familiar and he tried to remember how he knew him. Was he one of Sarah’s teachers? He kinda looked like the art teacher she liked that always smelled a bit like weed. Joel never said anything about it, preferring that his pup have a pothead for a teacher rather than a drunk. And plus, an art teacher smoking a joint in between classes was practically a cliche. Yes, he thought, this had to be him. Nobody else in Texas would be dressed like that. 

It took a few seconds of wondering why he was hanging out with Sarah’s art teacher, but he slowly remembered that his daughter was gone. And not just that, Sarah had been dead since his 32nd birthday, which was twenty four years ago. If that man, by some miracle, was still alive, he would be grayer than Joel by now. After a flash of a memory that involved him tumbling out of a truck and a gun being shoved into his mate’s face presented itself, the reality of the situation came back to him. 

“Wha-? Whas - What’s happening? Where’d she go?!,” Joel asked, his heart beginning to beat harder as he realized his words were slurred. 

When Joel locked eyes with the woman across from him, it clicked. The truck, the hotel, the clothing swap, the meeting and finally, the tea. The two of you had been drugged by this woman. This was not his first experience with drugs by a mile, both recreationally and in similar situations such as these, however this was the first time he was stupid enough to drug himself. Usually whoever did the drugging was less sneaky, stabbing him with a needle or shoving a bitter smelling cloth under his nose to knock him out. But this was different, these drugs weren’t meant to knock him out. 

Tommy had convinced him, about forty years ago, to take acid with him at a Pink Floyd concert that he had snuck out of his parent’s house for. He remembered standing in the crowd, his mouth wide open as he looked at all the lights that dazzled and dizzied him. The crowd danced and sang around him, Tommy even got into the center of the floor to pull some moves on a cute guy that was giving him the eyes, but Joel was stuck in place. He couldn’t take his eyes off the lights that bounced off the crowd. As he remembered how your face had glowed, shining in the candlelight like it was the sun itself, he quickly drew the connection and realized that he had been given a hallucinogen. 

“D-drugged us? Umpf - why?,” he managed to get out, his tongue feeling like a dead weight in his mouth. 

Aspen slunk over, shushing him as she kneeled at his feet. Joel straightened up, feeling uncomfortable at the way she clasped his upper thighs under her talons. The only person he wanted anywhere near where she was touching him was you. She smiled at his attempts to get away, reveling at his discomfort for a bit longer before she granted him space by leaning back on her heels. 

“You sir, are special. The chosen comes to us as someone who is closed off to any truth except for the one before themselves. They do not seek the answers we do, which is why they must learn the ultimate truth,” Aspen carefully explained. 

Joel made a noise of impatience, squirming as he tried to will his limbs to cooperate. He didn’t give a shit about whatever crap she had to say about being chosen or ultimate truths. All he cared about was where the fuck you had gone. 

“Where is she?,” he grunted, straining all of his muscles to lift himself into a shaky standing position. 

She stood from her place on the floor, so close to him that he could smell the way her scent was marred with something foul. It was a scent he had smelled many times on himself. Joel had noticed the aroma of blood that tainted the air when he walked in, but this was something more. This was the acrid smell of death itself. 

“The chosen is an offering, he will learn the truths of the world. For his sacrifice, we are rewarded with enough sustenance to sustain us until the next pair are found. She shall sustain us,” she sighed, gliding back over to the man by the door. 

Cannibals. These people were fucking cannibals, and not just the run of the mill cannibals that were scattered around the world. Joel had been alive long enough to encounter the groups of people who were led by desperation to feast on the flesh of others until they could finally take down another deer. He understood those people, even empathized with their plight. Hell, he had been one of those people before, when a hard winter forced the hand of the humans left trying to survive a few years after the outbreak. 

These people were not the same. They sacrificed bonded pairs, deluding themselves into thinking that if they gave one to the infected that they deserved to eat the other. His stomach panged, the tea he swallowed rising to his throat as the world swirled around him. He gagged, fear and disgust pushing the small amount of sustenance he had in his stomach to his mouth. 

Slapping a hand down on the side of the couch, Joel spewed watered down chunks of vomit against the ground. Hands that were too cold to be yours rubbed his back, making him puke even more until he couldn’t possibly release any more bile. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Joel turned back to Aspen and her servant. 

“You’re fucking sick,” he spat. 

Aspen smiled, “You’ll see soon. Once the truth is revealed to you, this will all make sense.” 

Rage prickled at his skin, sobering him a bit as he took in the entirety of what Aspen was saying to him. There was no way he was letting them toss him to a horde, only to celebrate afterwards with a quick bite of you. Joel focused on the heavy weight of the forgotten weapon he had tucked into the fabric of his pants. All he needed was the right moment and he could lean forward, slicing the carotid in Aspen’s throat with a quick flick of the wrist so that he could enjoy the warm spray of her blood against his face. The drugs intensified every emotion he felt, especially the bloodlust he had for an adversary worth killing. He was practically frothing at the mouth while he imagined it. 

The corners of Aspen’s mouth turned downwards, her eyes widening slightly at Joel’s reaction to her plans. He smirked in return, picturing all the ways he could destroy her as her face alternated between warped and clear with every blink. Joel could practically taste her fear and he wanted more. She breathed in sharply through her nose, hardening the expression on her face as she called out to her guards. 

“Come, take him for preparation. I’ve had enough of his ignorance, we must teach him before it’s too late,” Aspen called out. 

Two guards came in, their faces distorted as they walked over. As they made their way to Joel, he couldn’t help but notice the way their shadows danced along the wall. The contrast of the dark figures against the cream colored walls was enough to make his mind spin. However, as hands latched on to his arms and shoved him forward, he was forced to remember what he was gearing up to do. As they yanked him out of the room, with Joel stumbling along as he tried to think of an escape, Aspen called out to him. 

“Bless you for being the chosen my child, your sacrifice will allow us to keep going for another winter. The death of the chosen one, along with the reward you have brought with you, will not be forgotten,” she promised. 

Reward? She thought that killing you was a fucking reward? Joel felt every muscle in his body pull taught against the scratchy fabric, a flush growing up the side of his neck as he chewed at the inside of his mouth. The guards managed to finally pull him out into the hall, shoving him towards whatever preparation area they had for him, but Joel wasn’t worried about the secondary location. He needed a moment alone with the freaks that had been threatening him and his mate for far too long. He needed it like he needed air. 

It didn’t matter that the floor looked like the surface of the ocean, even forming ripples with every step he took. It didn’t matter that the effects of the drug were blurring the lines, making him rabid as he thought of the most gruesome ways to take care of his enemies. It didn’t matter that you were in a different room, going through God knows what while he was being led towards death. None of it mattered. Joel wasn’t dying today and neither were you. It was everyone else that was fucked and they didn’t even know it. The fates of everyone who got in his way was getting more solidified with every step of the way. 

The guards led him to the back of the building, stopping before a maintenance door to unlock it. Joel breathed in deeply, noting how there was a distant smell of you drifting from somewhere nearby. You were close, so close that the slightest hint of peppermint and lavender hung in the air. He reared his head back, looking around for any sign of his mate. 

There was nobody else lingering in this side of the hotel, yet the sight of a glass door marred with unfamiliar symbols stirred something within him. As the man to his right gripped his shoulders harshly, using all of his might to push against the wall of muscle that was his backside, Joel swore he could hear your voice. He wasn’t sure if it was the drugs, the bond, or the love he felt, but he knew you were behind that door. 

“Get - oomph - get in there you big oaf,” one of the guards panted, finally managing to force Joel into the room. 

Joel stumbled in, catching himself on one of the industrial sized washing machines that lined the walls of the room. Piles of discarded clothes were everywhere, with every piece of beige clothing reeking of the rancid smell of terror. One of the guards shut the door behind them, making sure to lock it for good measure. They thought they were locking Joel in with them but it was the other way around, they were locked in there with him. 

“Take off your clothes, there will be no need for them in the next life,” the man closest to him instructed. 

Chuckling to himself, Joel shook his head and answered with a simple, “No.” 

That seemed to anger them, the smaller one pushing off of his place by the door to stalk over. They were both younger men, too green to see how cornering a rabid beast may get them hurt. As the space between Joel and the guards grew smaller, he focused on stilling the waves in his vision so that he could strike. 

“If you don’t want to take it off, we shall take it off for you,” the larger man sneered, taking one miscalculated step forward to grab Joel’s collar. 

Fingers grasped at the fabric, pulling it half an inch from his skin before they abruptly let go. Instead, they were pulled back to uselessly cover a gash that sprayed blood onto everything in sight. The guard gurgled out a protest and swung with his free hand, sending a weak punch towards Joel that he easily ducked. Stumbling forward, the larger man was already dead before his partner had a chance to draw his weapon. 

The remaining guard fumbled with the strap on his holster, giving Joel the perfect chance to slam him to the ground. A whine crawled out of his throat, muffled by Joel’s palm clamped over his mouth. A sharp sting came from the man biting him but he ignored it, suddenly mesmerized by the way the red stains of blood on the man’s face danced across his sallow skin. 

“Stop,” Joel mumbled to the squirming guard, putting more weight on the hand that shoved his face into the floor. 

A crack and a muffled scream resounded in the room, causing Joel to shudder at the sound. The mirage was shattered, replaced by a sickening reality where he was crouched over a man who groaned in pain from his jaw being shifted about three inches to the right. 

“Oh fuck,” Joel mused, huffing in amusement at his own blunder. 

The man hissed a garbled response, something about him being fucking crazy, but it was cut off by a knife slicing through vocal chords. Another misting of blood found Joel, baptizing him in the torment he caused with his own hands. He wanted to linger, to see if those dancing streaks would return again as the man took his last breaths, but he shook himself from the fog that clouded his judgment. 

Lifting himself from the floor, Joel stumbled towards the door and tore it open. The walls of the hallway shivered as he ping ponged off of them, trying desperately to keep himself upright even though his legs felt like wet spaghetti. All he needed was to think of you, his mate, possibly in danger at the other end of the hallway and he was using all of his might to overpower the effects of the tea. As he came to the opaque door, panting from the effort, he smelled it again. 

Lavender and peppermint, the scent that he would know anywhere. One that had mingled with his, creating a soft undertone to your scent that was all him. And one that was now bitter with fear and overpowered by the smell of death. Unsure of what he was about to see, Joel held his breath as he opened the door. 

- You - 

The candles that lined the pool dripped down the edges, creating piles of goopy wax along around the shallow end. The deep end however, that was where the wax got lost in the impressive layer of thickened blood that coated the bottom of it. As you lay strapped to a wooden table, your whole body tilted with the way the floor was slanted, all you could think about was how many people had been in the exact position. By the looks of it, a fuck ton. 

Women buzzed around you, covering your nude body in fragrant oils and soothing herbs, all while they boasted about how lucky you were for The Teacher choosing you. It was enough to make you barf. And you had, twice already. Each time made you feel slightly clearer but the waves in your vision never quite went away, along with the vibrancy of every color. 

At first you were outraged, having never taken any drugs other than a few hits of a joint that the older kids had shared with you and Jake behind the chapel. Now, it was just annoying to be incapacitated in such an inconvenient way. Although your mind was clearer, your limbs were weighed down against the wood. Even if you could get away, there was no telling whether you would be able to run. The only hope you had was Joel. 

“She looks perfect, my children. A beautiful reward for our offering. The others have taken her mate through the preparation, his ascension should come at any moment now,” Aspen’s voice called out, echoing around the abandoned swimming pool. 

The women all bowed to her, hurrying to their places along the wall as their leader descended the steps and drifted over to you. Her breasts were bare, painted in more symbols that held no meaning to anyone outside of the group, while her waist was covered by a blue skirt that flowed behind her. A long knife was strapped to her hip, bouncing with every step she took. The closer she got, the more blood you smelt and you realized that the paint they used for everything was not in fact paint. 

“I knew there was something about you, something that was begging to be unleashed, and now look where we are,” she sighed dreamily, brushing the hair from your face in an almost loving gesture. 

You tried to scooch back but couldn’t, not with the leather that strapped you down to the wood. 

“Why?,” you hissed, squirming uselessly. 

She hummed, “Why have they chosen me to be the one that speaks for them? Why has your mate been chosen to know their truth, while we all must wait for the messiah to understand? Why do people have to die? There is no one answer my child, it just is.”

The answer unnerved you, forcing you to freeze the attempts at escaping despite the fact that you were quivering with fear. This woman was crazy, completely deranged in her own self made delusions that she could speak to fungus controlled beings. Joel was right to worry about these people. 

Josiah had believed in a social hierarchy, one that left you at the bottom and everyone who presented differently above. And you never questioned his devotion to his backwards beliefs about marriage, modesty, or correct social norms. However, as far as the actual religion went, he was mostly just using it as a backbone to prop up the bullshit he wanted to advertise. Christianity was just a tool to propel himself forward, landing him a role as leader and preacher in a world that was primed for someone to take advantage of people. 

Paul’s group was different in action, but they also held similarities to Josiah’s. They strictly enforced a hierarchy that cherished only the group of alphas on the in, mowing down any possible competition for the crown with the arena. Meanwhile, your kind were used and discarded. Only the unlucky ones were kept. Violence was the tool Paul used and boy, was he good at it. However, his purpose was the same; to propel himself forward off the backs of others. 

Aspen was not like either of them. 

“J-Joel, my m-mate -,” you stammered, working hard against the effects of the tea. 

She clicked her tongue, “He knows what we cannot, they have taken him as one of their own by now. And you shall be our reward for the offering.” 

Aspen’s hand cupped your cheek, making you wince at the smell of stale blood that lingered under her fingernails. 

“You will have the most tender meat, the well loved ones always do,” she cooed. 

You balked, “What the fuck?” 

As the women that had lathered your body circled around the table, holding hands as they began to chant in a foreign language, you saw how devoted each of them were to this cause. It would have been fascinating, if you weren’t being inducted as their next meal. And as to Joel’s ascension? You weren’t sure what exactly that entailed, but it didn’t sound good. 

Aspen floated around the room, making odd screeching and clicking noises that resembled her supposed gods as she lifted the knife in the air. They all screeched, the sound of it piercing your ear drums for a few seconds before it suddenly stopped. The women let go of each other's hands, turning to march straight into the deep end of the pool. Dipping their hands in the muck, they smeared blood across their bodies while continuing to mumble the words they had been taught. Aspen cried out, ordering them back with a single noise. 

They turned back towards you, surrounding the table in a way that had you sweating. Aspen kissed each one of them as they stepped forward, the gesture almost like a blessing before they pressed their bloody hands against your body. By the time they were finished, every inch of your skin was covered in the semi-congealed mess. 

“To your places, it is time,” she bellowed, forcing all that had marked you to scramble back to their place along the wall. 

Tears stung your eyes, threatening to spill over onto your blood soaked face as the rotted smell reached your nostrils. The fear had grown into an all out panic as Aspen approached the table. Joel wasn’t going to make it, you were going to die here. Was it because he was dead? You hoped not. 

Of all the ways to die, becoming food for a group of freaks had never crossed your mind. You could think of a million other ways you had fretted over, this had never once made the list. 

“Please,” you whimpered. 

Aspen sighed, bringing one hand to your chest and the other to your belly to ground you. Her hands were cold and only worked to sober you even more to the impending doom you faced. 

“Hush now child, you will be remembered by the Thin Place as heroes. Your mate has ascended to take his place and you shall sustain our -” 

She stopped her speech, lifting her hands from your body as her eyes flicked up to meet yours. The intensity of her gaze made you raise an eyebrow, confused at her sudden hesitation. 

“What?,” you asked meekly. 

Carefully, Aspen laid her hand back down against your belly and leaned forward. She placed her ear against your lower abdomen, making you squirm in discomfort at the proximity to your more intimate parts, but she quickly shot up again. 

“It is her, she is the one who carries him for us,” she announced. 

Excited whispers and hushed squeals of eagerness filled the air. Aspen smiled brightly at you, reaching forward to unclasp one of your hands. 

“I had begun to have my doubts, but you have come! Your mate has ascended but all is well, he shall return to you once the babe is born. The connection between worlds will be complete through the son, he will show us the truth of his father’s kind,” Aspen prattled on. 

“The - The what?!,” you sputtered. 

Just then, the door whipped open with such force that the glass on the top half of it shattered as it smacked against the wall. Joel stumbled in, looking delirious yet hellbent as he zoned it on you. Blood covered nearly every inch of him, making you whimper in fear. How badly wounded had he been wounded to cause that much blood?

“You motherfuckers!,” he roared, sprinting towards the shallow end at full speed. 

He skidded to a stop on the side, leaping down only to be confronted by one of the women. Joel didn’t hesitate, mowing her down the second she lept in his way. The woman dropped and another took her place, quickly being disposed of by the vengeful spirit that had possessed your mate. 

“STOP! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! SHE WILL SAVE US ALL!,” Aspen screeched. 

You cringed at the older woman’s poor choice of words. She couldn’t possibly understand the fire she had lit under Joel’s ass with her plea. 

The fury in Joel doubled, with the memory of someone else who had been strapped to a different table setting off the alarm bells in his mind. As chaos ensued, you reached down and groggily undid the rest of the straps. The second you were freed, you moved to get up from the wood but were stopped by Aspen. Tears were in her eyes as she grasped your shoulders in desperation, shaking them back and forth in an effort to lift you from the fog of confusion.  

“Please,” she cried, “This is the key to saving everyone, he needs to ascend before it’s too late.” 

Your mind remained blank. No matter how hard you tried, not a single thought came to aid in your response to the sobbing woman. The only thoughts you were able to conjure up were terrifying, with a million unanswered questions starting a dull throb in the center of your brain. Was it possible? Of course it was, Joel had been cumming inside of you for months. Was it true? You had no idea. 

“Please you need t-”

Aspen’s pleas were cut off when Joel rammed a knife into the side of her neck, effectively ending whatever she had to say about babes and messiahs. Watching as she scrabbled at her neck, you did nothing but stare. The effects of the tea were muted by the shock of Aspen’s words, making her death seem almost surreal as Joel ripped the blade from her. She fell to the floor, giving one last pained wheeze before she stilled for good. 

“Darling, hey, hey, it’s me,” Joel said, cupping your face in his hands. 

You wanted to poke fun at his reassurances. Of course it was him, you had watched Joel run in here and tear through the group. Who else would it be? That would’ve reassured him, perhaps even earned a laugh, but you remained mute. Studying his ridiculously long eyelashes as he nervously examined your face, you tried hard not to look him directly in the eye. If you did look at him, you were worried that all of the things Aspen had said would come pouring out of your mouth. 

Joel brought his head down to knock against yours, sighing as he tried needlessly to reassure you that everything would be okay. He whispered sweet words in hopes of soothing you, but it was pointless, you were already calm. So calm that you felt untethered from reality. The drugs mixed with the shock and you ended up tuning out for most of what Joel was saying. After letting him frantically check you for the source of blood, he put it together that it wasn’t yours all by himself and gently lifted you from the table. Normally, you would protest his babying, but you were barely present as he stomped out off the pool deck. 

The next few minutes blurred together and suddenly, you were being lifted onto the back of a horse and riding out into the night. Hugging Joel tightly, you buried your face into his back to shield yourself from the wind and tried to remember what had happened. Aspen had made her announcement, Joel had mowed down her followers, he had carried you out, and then nothing. 

You had a vague memory of him killing other people, the blurred faces of two guards who jumped out from around a corner during the escape flashing in your mind. Despite the hallucinogens that kept his eyes glossy, you remembered how Joel’s brute strength had allowed him to beat the two men into the ground with his bare fists. His movements were erratic rather precise, his tact seeming to be to overwhelm his victims and use their surprise to end them. You watched the display, too soaked up in your own thoughts to aid, yet unable to look away from the more menacing side of Joel. It was a side to him that you found oddly comforting. 

It was also a side that was in sharp contrast to the man that picked you back up and backtracked to the closet to reclaim your lost clothes. Muttering angrily about Aspen and her women stripping you of the tight dress, he carefully wiped as much blood and oil as he could from your body before he redressed you. 

Once Joel was fully dressed himself, you leaned up against the wall, rubbing at your chest to calm the erratic beats while he stuck his head out of the door. After seeing it was clear, you remembered that he had scooped you up again, but the rest of the escape was too distorted to understand. It was fine, you weren’t sure you wanted to know the details anyways. There were bigger things for you to worry about. 

“I’ve got ya honey, don’t worry. S’okay, we’re gonna be just fine,” Joel called over the wind, kicking the horse in the sides to start a gallop. 

His comfort did little to help you but you hugged him tighter, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck to satiate his own nerves. As the horse tore through the night, taking you further and further away from the remainder of Aspen’s followers, you couldn’t help but think of what she had said. The baby, those two words rang in your ears until a migraine began to bite at the backs of your eyelids. 

Wincing from the ache, you closed your eyes and snuggled closer to the broad expanse of Joel’s warm back. He squeezed your arm in response, a brief moment of comfort amidst the chaos, before he returned them to the reins. As the night wore on, you focused on the sound of hoofs taking you away from danger, trying desperately not to think of the dangers that the future may hold. 

- Joel - 

Two more days of living rough, huddled together at night inside of a former auto shop and even a tool shed to withstand the elements. Two more days of him watching you pick at the measly portions he was able to scrounge up. Two more days of him babbling to himself in hopes that you might finally speak up. Two more days of Joel anxiously hugging you tightly as you pretended to sleep beside him. It had been two days of hell for him. 

The first night, he had given you a pass. He didn’t sleep either. With the drugs still swirling in his bloodstream and the adrenaline of the escape making his heart thump painfully hard in his chest, Joel had finally directed the horse into a former auto shop. After clambering off the horse and stumbling through a rudimentary inspection of the place, he jogged back outside to pull the horse in through the half opened garage door. You were slumped over in the seat, gripping the sides of the leather to keep yourself from sliding to the ground. He understood the feeling, for the past hour his head had felt like it was weighed down by a ton of bricks. 

Easing you off the seat, Joel had thrown you over his shoulder and led the horse in through the tight opening. After closing the bay doors as gently as he possibly could, he patted the stallion’s side before walking through the shop to get to the office in the back. The air was stale there, with the dust particles tickling his nostrils, but the door had a lock and the loveseat shoved in the corner would be comfortable enough to ride out the rest of the effects together.  

For the next four hours Joel had held you in his lap, rubbing your back and leaving the occasional kiss to soothe the both of you as the drugs left your bodies. The dead weight slumped against him was almost enough to convince him that you were asleep, but he was too attuned to you to be fooled. Your breathing was quicker than usual, a dead giveaway that you were still keyed up to let yourself fall into a slumber. He let you pretend anyways.  

When the morning came, Joel had even pretended to wake you. He whispered soft greetings in your ear, kissing your cheek gently until you hummed in acknowledgement. After a hazy smile was sent his way, a tiny bit of the weight on his chest was lifted. Perhaps you would be okay. Maybe you just needed the night to come to terms with everything that had happened. 

“How do you feel honey? Are ya alright? I know that must’ve been scary for you,” Joel asked, fussing over the errant strands that clung to your face.  

“I’m fine Joel. It was just a lot is all, are you okay?,” you answered sweetly. 

He hummed, “I’m okay, was just worried ‘bout you. Drugs can be fun but not like that. That was… Not the best place for you to try ‘em for the first time. 

A devious smile had graced your lips, easing more tension from between his shoulder blades. 

“God Joel, what do you take me for? That wasn’t my first time trying drugs, I’ve smoked weed before. Definitely my first time doing that kind of stuff though. Can’t say I’m a fan,” you joked. 

The pair of you had laughed and once again, Joel was deluded into thinking that you would be okay. But that’s not how life worked, not in his experience anyways. An entire day passed with you glued to his back on the horse, completely silent as he followed the trails to the best of his memory. At first he thought it was you being tired and he said nothing, allowing you to doze if that’s what you needed. Nevertheless, as the day wore on and you remained locked within yourself, he began to ramble about anything and everything to fill the silence that suffocated him. 

During his time as a smuggler, Joel had always preferred his counterparts to say as little as possible to him. That’s why he and Tess worked so well together, she understood that he liked space. But he wasn’t a smuggler anymore and you weren’t his accomplice, you were his mate. Joel couldn’t stand the silence, it felt like it was filled with nothing but impending doom. Like at any moment you were going to turn around and tell him you were leaving him. Distant memories of Sarah’s mother standing over her crib, apologizing to him through tears before she left for good, plucked at his oversensitive nerves. Joel clenched his jaw, working hard to not let his memories of that woman distort the situation. You weren’t her. 

Still, Joel couldn’t help bemoaning the fact that you were supposed to be the one talking his ear off. As someone who wasn’t great with words, he loved the fact that you were a storyteller. Before he had taken you for the first time, before he finally allowed himself to indulge in the woman that plagued his every thought, you had charmed him with the way you spoke. 

Joel would come back from whatever bogus job he made up to keep the distance, make a meal for the two of you, and then he would sit and listen to every thought that ran through that pretty little head. He was almost jealous of your ability to make anything seem interesting and it made him want to get better at it. And now, with your mind a million miles away, it seemed his rusty sociable skills were being tested. 

By the time Joel stopped for the second night, you weren’t even pretending to listen to him anymore. He knew he wasn’t being particularly interesting, prattling on about a job he had done in Austin nearly thirty years ago, but he was slowly running out of memories to help pull you from the abyss. And usually, when his words failed him or came out entirely wrong, you were the one that swooped in to save the conversation. This time that didn’t happen and he was forced to awkwardly rush through a tedious speech on the importance of applying the finish to a deck equally to protect the wood. 

While Joel talked, he formed the most rudimentary bed anyone had ever made with tarps and fishing nets. Meanwhile, you stared at the walls, so checked out that he had to practically drag you into the makeshift nest when it was time to go to sleep. When he had finally curled himself around you, holding you close to preserve body heat while the night passed, Joel decided to push the issue. 

“Honey, are ya alright? You’ve been mighty quiet today and well… If you’re feeling a certain way about what went down, I’d like it if you talked to me about it. I - I mean, we could work through it ya know,” Joel whispered, rubbing every inch of skin he could reach to calm you. 

There was no response at first but he knew you heard him. The way you tensed against his body was enough of an indicator. He waited, allowing you a moment to collect your thoughts before pushing you to speak. Just as Joel was about to press it again, willing to face a wrath if he must, you spoke up. 

“M’okay baby, I’m just tired and I still don’t feel very well,” you mumbled against his chest, looking up to press your chapped lips to his in thanks. 

The sickness that had come over you while on the trip to Jackson worried him, but he accepted it as a reason why you might not be particularly chipper. For once in his life, Joel had never desired to be in his brother’s commune as badly as he did now. The allure of an actual doctor checking you out was driving him mad. Everytime the wind shook the shed that night or you shifted uncomfortably beside him, he wanted to throw you on the back of the horse and ride until he got to the gates. But Joel wasn’t stupid, he knew his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be and riding around in the dark like that was pointless. It was the thought of you finally getting the help you needed safely that got him through it. 

After the two of you departed from the shed, it was that second day on the road that had broken his spirit. Jackson was so close, another hour and he would be at the doors, but the temperatures had quickly dropped to dangerously low levels. Joel had shook with each sharp gust of wind, a movement which was mirrored by you in the saddle behind him. After trying to tough it out for the majority of the miserable day, he had finally decided to pull off until the weather broke. 

The luxurious home near the ski lodge Joel found was a god send. It even had a gate that he quickly latched behind him before he led the horse towards the side of the building. And to his surprise, there was nothing lurking within the abandoned place. The only scary thing that was in the beautifully built home was you, sitting in complete silence as he fiddled with the large fireplace that sat in the living room. 

After breaking apart some discarded boxes, books, and a kitchen chair, he managed to spark a flame that quickly grew into a blazing heat. Closing his eyes, Joel allowed his limbs to unthaw for a few breaths. Then he hummed and turned, about to offer his hand for you to join him, but you weren’t there. Glancing around the room, you weren’t anywhere to be found on the open concept first floor and Joel’s heart lurched, a sweat breaking out on the back of his neck instantly. 

“Darling? Where’d ya go?,” he shakily called. 

No answer. 

Joel cussed, leaving the fire to search the house. He checked the second floor first, finding nothing but a couple of chairs that looked out upon the frozen landscape. Jogging down the creaking steps, he ran towards the kitchen. He skidded to a stop in front of an open door, panting as he spied the steps to the basement. A chill ran through him at the sight of the shut door at the end, childhood fears about monsters in his parent’s cellar hitting him like a ton of bricks. He had never even thought to check the basement. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“Honey?,” he tried again, his chest growing unbearably tighter by the second. 

When no response came for the second time, he broke. Taking the steps two at a time, Joel landed at the bottom and swung the door open so hard that it shook the frame. 

And there you were, arms thrown around yourself in comfort as you faced the glass doors that lined the back wall. Only the top half of the glass showcased the view that was currently shrouded in darkness, the rest of it covered by thick layers of accumulated snow. In four long strides he was at your side, placing a hand on your shoulder that finally made you jump out of your stupor. 

“Oh!,” you gasped, blinking rapidly as if you had just been woken from a dream. 

Joel raised his hands in the air, giving you a worried look as you tried to regain the mask of indifference that hid your true feelings from him. He longed for you to scream at him, to say the pettiest shit you could possibly throw his way, to hurl insults that would make his heart ache for days, anything would be better than this. There was no fixing a non response, there was only the stress of trying to find the missing puzzle piece. If it was him you were mad at, Joel needed to know why.

“I’ve been calling you baby, did you not hear me?,” he asked. 

You blinked, turning from him to look back out at the inky sky. He wanted to grab your shoulders and shake you, to force out the truth the only way he knew how, but he could never be that cruel to you. Especially not with how beat down you looked. What you needed was for him to listen, he just needed you to fucking speak to him first. 

Joel gulped down all of his hesitation and aversions to prodding, placing himself directly in front of the glass to obstruct your view. He grabbed your hands, squeezing them as he lovingly waited for your eyes to stop looking through him. When he finally felt your gaze focus on the fine lines that stained his forehead, Joel decided that that would have to be good enough. 

“Please darling, please talk to me. I’m beggin’ ya. I know you’re not okay but neither am I. We almost lost each other AGAIN and now it feels like I’m still losing you. S’okay if you’re cross with me, just fucking say something. Say anything baby, please,” Joel begged. 

Your eyes met his for the first time in what felt like eons and his heart stuttered at the contact. Butterflies erupted from the growling pit of his stomach, threatening to explode from his mouth with a plethora of praises, but he reined them in. He didn’t want to spook you back into the shadows by coming on too strong. The look of your face was conflicted so Joel stepped forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead as an encouragement. 

“I know m’not the best at this, I’m new to… Talking about feelings and um, stuff. But that don’t mean that I don’t wanna hear about how you’re feeling. I don't want you to keep it secret from me if you’re hurtin,” he tried. 

“Joel, I think maybe we’re… I think that I’m…”

The words trailed off into more silence and he pulled back. Joel pushed a few loose strands behind your ear, nodding his head in encouragement. 

“Go on sweetheart, you can say it. Please, whatever it is, I can take it,” he pleaded. 

You swallowed hard, looking away from him again as you whispered, “I’m just tired, it’s nothing Joel.” 

Joel flinched like he had just been slapped. The frustration he had held back grew hot in his chest, making him dig his teeth into the inside of his mouth to keep back any harsh words that may be hidden beneath the surface. This was something more, something that you were hiding from him. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. 

The fact that you felt like Joel couldn’t handle whatever reality you were stuck in right now broke him a little. Memories of him breaking down, sobbing into your neck against the truck over the fear of losing you, blowing up at you after you went into the library without him, even showing you the wreckage he had made in the kids rooms back at the cabin, all made his stomach twist. Had he been wrong to open himself up like that? Did it ruin any chance of you trusting him to take care of you, to safeguard your heart? And finally, did the time with Aspen’s group awaken you to the fact that Joel couldn’t fulfill his duty as a provider? Was it over? 

“I uh -,” Joel cleared his throat, willing the tears of betrayal that threatened his waterline to go away, “I’m gonna go upstairs then, there’s a fire going. I’ll um… I’ll give you some space.” 

Joel turned away, leaving you in the dark basement to be alone with your thoughts. He felt stupid. Of course you thought of him as weak, he couldn’t seem to protect you from anyone or anything. He was unable to care for anyone properly, despite the fact that it was all he had ever really wanted to do. 

It was Joel Miller’s curse. To love someone so dearly, yet to not be able to safeguard them or cherish them in the way that he should, which inevitably would lead to their demise. Rinse and repeat. The moment he got you to Jackson at least you would be safe, even if you didn’t want anything to do with him afterwards. Rarely did omegas ever leave their alphas after being claimed, and vice versa, but Joel wasn’t surprised that he was about to be one of the few. 

“God, I’m a fucking asshole,” Joel muttered as he walked back upstairs, ignoring the creaking in his knees at the movement.  

The mark on his neck burned with despair and Joel cupped it, swallowing hard as he made his way back to the fireplace. Was it yours? Was it his? He couldn’t tell, all of the pain seemed to blur together as of late. His eyes were glossy as he pulled throw pillows and blankets onto the floor, creating a comfy place for you to sleep in front of the roaring fire. Once he was finished, he bent down, scrubbing angrily at his puffy eyes as he tried to let the flames to soothe him. 

Before you crashed into his life, Joel hadn’t cried for years. Only in dreams would a few strays come to the surface, but he didn’t count those. He had been a steel trap, a hardened shell that kept out any human emotion that could either harm or help him. But you, you had pried him open with your bare hands embarrassingly fast. He hadn’t even had time to realize it, but you released the softer part of him that had been trapped for years. Joel was constantly in awe of how you managed to get him to fold, easily opening the floodgates that had been sealed off for way too long by just being you. He was usually pretty thankful for that, but not now. Not when he couldn’t seem to get his damned emotions in check anymore, not when you had lost trust in him because of that. 

Just as Joel was about to lift himself from the floor to go find you and bring you towards warmth, he felt two soft hands on his shoulders. He froze, not wanting to scare you away by doing anything wrong, but he softened when a kiss landed on the bald patch in his beard. You continued, giving him a few more pecks and he soon felt his cheeks grow warm from the attention. 

“Come lay down with me,” you whispered. 

He did not hesitate, jumping to his feet instantly and turning to face you. The smile you gave him was the first real one in days and although it didn’t totally wipe out the tightness in your expression, it did brighten your eyes. Joel watched while you discarded the majority of your clothes, leaving you in nothing but an old shirt and a pair of panties as you snuggled into the sheets on the floor. He stared down at you, not sure of what you expected from him. Did he leave his clothes on? Would you care if he rid himself of his filthy jeans? 

“Joel, just get comfortable and lay down. That’s all I’m asking,” you huffed, patting the place by your right. 

Joel nodded, dutifully shimmying off his dirty clothes until he was in nothing but his boxers. He knew he probably should have kept some of them on, especially with god knows what lurking outside, but the allure of feeling your soft skin against his after days of being shut out was too tempting. Drifting over to you, he groaned as he dropped to the floor. Uncomfortable zaps of pain shot from his lower back, making all of his muscles tense from the feeling but he managed to clumsily flop onto his back beside you. 

Like ice against an open flame, you melted against his side and Joel pulled you close. He sighed as your hand came up, twirling his chest hairs between your fingers as he tangled his legs with yours. With the fire roaring in the background and you stuck to him, he finally felt courageous enough to ask the question that had been on his mind all day. 

“When we get to Jackson, what are you going to do?,” Joel asked. 

A beat passed. 

“What do you mean?,” you returned, sounding incredibly confused at his wording. 

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, “M’just wondering if you were planning on… I don’t know honey, clearly I haven’t been what you needed. And now, you’re probably realizing that and I just… I wanted to know if you had made plans for when we get there.” 

Another pregnant pause passed, making Joel regret everything he had ever said in his entire life. Why did he have to ask that when you were finally coming around? Maybe you weren’t even thinking about it until Joel had to go run his stupid fucking mouth, he had probably just said goodbye to every bit of good in his life. Dread curdled the lining of his stomach and he suddenly felt like he was waiting for the guilty verdict that would send him straight to deathrow. 

“Oompfh! Fuck’s sake darling, watch it,” Joel groaned as you clambered up onto his lap, kneeing him in the groin in the process. 

Two hands cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you in the dim room. Gazing up at you, he noticed how the orange glow of the fire illuminated your skin. A few scrapes and bruises remained but aside from that, you were as beautiful as the day he pulled you from that river bed. Joel sighed and grasped your hips as your thumbs brushed across his face. He knew what you were going to say, that you were planning to leave him despite the bond, that he wasn’t enough. At least this way, with him taking in your gorgeous body for the last time, he could cherish this as his last memory of being able to hold you. 

“Is that what you want me to do?,” you whined. 

The desperation in your voice distracted him from the downward spiral he was in, forcing Joel’s attention back on you. 

“It doesn’t matter what I want sweetheart, you - ,” he choked on the words, looking away so that he could collect himself before he whispered, “You need someone who can be a better partner than me. That’s clear as day to me now and m’sorry I held ya back for so long.” 

The tortured sob that came from your lips surprised him. The cry was garbled, sounding like it was somewhere between a whimper and a howl. Joel gasped as you cried out, digging crescent moons into his shoulders as you shook him wildly with your hands. The pain was minimal but the shock of watching his mate absolutely lose it was something else. This is not the reaction he had wanted, all he wanted to do was give you the out you so clearly needed but were too afraid to ask for. 

“I don’t want anyone else Joel! I want you, so stop trying to leave me! PLEASE! I fucking need you, you asshole!,” you shouted, practically shaking the walls with your booming voice. 

Joel quickly rolled you over, blanketing your body with the solid weight of his own. Your arms and legs wound themselves around him tightly, keeping him trapped in your embrace. Not that he minded. Joel grasped your chin, opening your neck up for him to scent along the line of your throat while you sobbed uncontrollably. 

“S’okay darling, I already told ya that I won’t ever leave you. Was just tryin’ to give you an out in case you needed one honey, I just want you to be happy is all. You’ve been so sad, I thought it was my fault,” he mumbled in between kisses and nips. 

You sniffed with a vice like grip on his curls as he laved his tongue over the mark. Joel debated on biting into it again. The hormones it would release would certainly calm you, but he decided against it. He reminded himself that it was gentle that you needed. 

“I’m only happy when I’m with you. I’ve only EVER been happy with you Joel, so please, don’t say shit like that to me anymore. No matter how many outs you give me, I’m never going to take them so cut it the fuck out. How would you feel if I did that all the time?,” you sobbed. 

Joel sighed, “Okay, I’m sorry baby. I guess I just got stuck in my head these last few days with everything, but I was worried sick. You saying nothing isn’t exactly normal.” 

Again, the room filled itself with the sound of the crackling firewood and the snow pelting against the glass windows. Joel winced but continued to dote open you, hoping to unlock any piece of information you were willing to give as he brushed his lips over the mark again and again. Finally, with his scent covering yours and the weight of his body crushing you into the plush blankets, you let something slip. 

“I’m… I’m scared Joel,” you said, the words barely a whisper. 

Joel pulled himself from the crook of your neck, propping himself up by placing his forearms on either side of your face. With him positioned this way, your bodies intertwined and the both of you breathing the same air, he looked deep into your eyes as he asked you, “Why?” 

Your eyes shifted away from him but they couldn’t go far, instead tracing the outline of his nose as you mumbled a response that was so quiet he could only make out one singular word. 

“Family? You’re worried about your family? Do you mean your mom and Jake? I don’t know where they are honey, but I’m sure they’re alright. Seemed like tough cookies to me,” he soothed. 

The crinkle in your nose made his brows furrow. Joel frowned as you shook your head at his guess. He sighed, frustrated at your unwillingness to elaborate and his own inability to read you as well as you did him. Then, it dawned upon him. 

Joel sucked in a breath, “Then it has to be…”

Of course, how could he have missed it? The exhaustion, the nervousness, the mood swings, the lack of appetite, that could only mean one thing. Even now, as you stared up at him with terrified eyes, you were too afraid to tell him. Terrified of what he might say at your completely reasonable discomfort, you had made yourself sick from the anxiety. Joel kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. He could’ve stopped all the negative thoughts that were running through your mind if he had known. 

“You’re afraid to see MY family, not yours,” Joel exclaimed. 

The way your eyes widened told him that he was right on the money. He sighed, knocking his forehead against your own in a playful manner. 

He tsked, “Should’ve just told me sweetheart, I wouldn’t have been mad at ya.”

You nodded shakily, “Sure yeah, I uh… I think they’re going to hate me maybe.” 

Joel sucked his teeth, cradling your head with one of his hands while the other caressed your cheeks. He leaned in, brushing his nose with yours before he kissed you once, then two more times after that. Each of them were slow and sweet, like little bursts of sunshine on a rainy day, and the way you were calmed by them made him smile. 

“Tommy might be a lot, you’ve heard the stories, but he’s always been the friendlier Miller brother. There’s nothing to worry about there. Maria is a bit tougher, she kinda scares me, but I think you’ll get on just fine. She’s fair, just doesn’t take any shit. And Frankie is only four, so I don’t think he’ll mind ya much,” he joked. 

You gave a small smile but it still didn’t fully reach your eyes, “Okay baby, I’m sure you’re right.”

Fuck that. 

Joel wanted, scratch that, he needed you to understand that you were wanted. That you were loved by him, meaning that his brother would love you too or he’d have to pay for it. He might be older now, but he wasn’t above using some good old fashioned schoolyard justice on Tommy if he didn’t accept his mate. Not that he thought he would have to, Joel was pretty sure the only unwelcome guest upon arrival to Jackson might be him. 

“Hey, none of that. You’re the only person I want to see, day in and day out, for the rest of my life. You’re the only person who I would do anything for. Honey, you’re it. They ain’t blind, m’sure they’ll see that. Hell, they’ll probably throw you a damned parade for putting up with me. And if they don’t, fuck ‘em,” Joel said simply. 

And he truly meant that. You were the one anomaly in his life. Find a girl and have a daughter, lose the girl and lose the daughter. Find another girl who turns out to be his best friend and find another daughter through unusual circumstances, lose the girl and lose the daughter again. When Joel left Jackson in a haste after Ellie death, having done nothing more than drink and grouch for the two days he wandered the streets, he decided he was finally going to take himself out of the equation. And then, you happened. You, who survived time and time again against all odds. You, who understood him in a way no one else ever could. 

Joel didn’t give two flying fucks if Tommy and Maria didn’t like you. He didn’t care if they thought the age difference was strange. He didn’t even mind the sideways glances he might get as he strolled through town with you on his arm. The only person’s feelings he truly gave a shit about was yours. As long as none of the negativity blew back on you, he didn’t care. Joel would happily take it all. 

“You’d love me no matter what, right? Even if… Even if I had to - Like if I told you that I’m uh, well that I might be - ,” you sputtered, unable to fully get the words out. 

He leaned down and captured your lips, pressing his mouth against yours until you relented. Feeling it when you finally allowed the tension to release from your muscles, Joel smiled into the kiss as you tugged on his overgrown curls. Pressing his tongue against the seam of your lips, he breathed in deeply when you let him in, tangling your tongue with his. There was a bit of heat to it, growing in intensity by the second, but mostly it was just about exploring each other. He squeezed every bit of skin he could, humming in satisfaction at the weight of your curves beneath his palms. 

When Joel finally parted from you, your lips were swollen and shining. A haze covered your eyes, making you look almost drunk beneath him. It made his cock stir between his thighs but he pushed any thoughts of that nature away. The only desire he needed to quench tonight was his desire for you to finally be happy again. 

“I love you, no strings attached. There’s no ifs or buts - no exceptions. I just love ya darling, that’s all there is to it,” Joel murmured against your lips. 

You sighed, “I love you too Joel, so much that it scares me sometimes.”

He grinned at that, feeling giddy at your admission. Joel was an all in type of guy, in every possible way. Even before your paths crossed, he was a little bit unhinged. A lifetime of trauma and violence had loosened a few screws in his mind, that was for sure. But after meeting you, after claiming you as his own, Joel was downright feral at the drop of a hat for you. He’d bring the entire world to its knees and dance around in the ashes of the fallen for you. And for some reason, he was lucky enough to fall in love with a woman that would match his energy in that way. 

“What’s got you smiling like that lover boy?,” you cackled. 

Joel opened his eyes, having slid them shut as you played with his mussed strands. He couldn’t help it, the feeling of your fingers against his scalp was his kryptonite. 

“Just thinking about you pretty girl, s’all I’m ever thinking about,” he sighed into your mouth as you latched onto him. 

The kiss you shared was sweet, or at least that’s what Joel had meant for it to be when he accepted your advance. However, when your tongue flicked against his and your heels dug into the small of his back, forcing his hips flush with yours, he couldn’t help the pornographic moan he released. In return, he sucked on your tongue, making you claw at his bare shoulders and squirm beneath him in desperation. 

“Please Joel,” you panted when he finally let up. 

Kissing down the side of your neck, Joel stopped at the indents his teeth had left on you forever. He grabbed your throat, holding it still as he bit down with enough pressure to break the skin again. Your garbled scream of pleasure was cut off by his hand pressing over your mouth, effectively silencing you as Joel licked the wound clean. When he finally pulled away, your pupils were so wide that they eclipsed any bit of color that your irises usually held. He licked his lips as he stared down at yours, suddenly starved for any scrap of affection you could possibly throw his way. 

“What’s that baby? Tell me what you need,” Joel pleaded, knocking noses with you once more. 

With the glow of the fire warming the both of you, the storm raging outside, the pile of rich fabrics saving you from the hardwood floor, and your bodies intertwined, it felt like you were the only two people left in the world. There were no infected, no raiders, no annoying brothers, no scary mothers, no damaged pasts, it was just you and Joel. 

“I need you Joel. Love you too much baby, need to feel it,” you whined. 

Joel nodded, kissing both of your cheeks before he brushed away the stray tear that rolled down your face. He cooed at your teary eyes and kissed you again, softly this time, before he traced the column of your throat with his lips. Working his way down your body, Joel stopped and suckled at your nipples. Pulling on both of them with his mouth until you squealed, he stopped to admire the hardened peaks. 

“S-sensitive,” you moaned as he blew cold air against them, making them tighten up even more. 

“I noticed that darling, so pent up aren’t we? Love hearing how good I make you feel, let it all out for me,” Joel said, continuing his wet kisses until he reached your mound. 

The curls that covered your mound made his breath hitch and he quickly parted your legs, famished for the taste of your weeping slit on his tongue. Joel looked up at you, maintaining eye contact as he licked a stripe up the seam. Circling your button with the tip of his tongue on the upstroke, he hummed at the delicious taste of your essence. It was like the sweetest honey he could possibly imagine and he was shameless in the way he began to greedily suck it from your folds. 

“J-Joel, oh my gooood,” you cried out, shaking in his grasp as he threw your legs over his shoulders and pressed your hips down so he could properly devour you. 

With you properly warmed up for him, Joel pressed two fingers inside with ease, slowly thrusting them with such precision that your eyes were rolling into the back of your head. He grinned and leaned back, enjoying playing with your pussy for a moment as he watched you shake. Slick slid out of your slowly tightening hole, dripping down his arm and ruining the sheets below for any future use. 

He grinned, “Does that feel good baby? Feels so good when I’m right there huh?”

You keened and he took that as all the response he needed to add another finger, he kept the slow pace but used more and more pressure to rub at that one spot until you were right on the edge. Sweat dripped down your body, making the moisture glisten in the light of the fire. Joel knew what you needed, teetering on the brink until he decided to grant you mercy, but he wanted to hear you say it. He craved to hear you call for him, to hear how much you needed him, he was sure that he would explode if you didn’t. Just when Joel was about to start begging you for it, you called out for him. 

“Please baby, m’so fucking close. Need you to f- ha!,” you cried out, yanking ruthlessly at his hair as he sucked your clit into his mouth. 

Slick sprayed out of your core, the wetness drenching his face as you shivered through your orgasm. Joel groaned at the explosion of flavor on his tongue, lapping up every drop that you graced him with. His fingers squelched inside of you, never letting up on their pace as your walls clenched and unclenched around them. 

He was so out of it, entirely focused on quenching his need for your slick in his mouth at that moment. So focused that Joel didn’t even realize he was working you up for another, more intense, orgasm that had you thrashing against him. With Joel whining at how your nails dug into his scalp, feet kicking at his back as he held you down, he was in heaven. He stayed stuck to your core until you cried out, breathily reminding him of how sensitive you were today for some reason. When Joel’s head popped back up from your bottom half, his entire face was shining with your juice and he grinned down upon you like a madman. 

You laughed, “What’s that look for?” 

Joel shrugged, playing off his giddiness with a shake of the head. He wasn’t sure what was making him so giddy but he knew it had something to do with you. Nuzzling your neck, he placed a plethora of sloppy kisses there until you sunk even deeper into the floor. Lifting your chin, you allowed him more space to work as he licked over the wound he had made again. 

“Need you inside please, right now,” you sighed, the sentiment half a whine and half a demand. 

Pulling back, Joel pressed himself up on his forearms so that he could get a look at you. With flushed cheeks and a sparkle of lust in your eyes, you had come alive again. He understood and he felt the same. Being without your attention for two days had felt like he was going through withdrawal, his body and mind had rebelled against every second of it. But now, he felt whole again. 

“Okay darling, I gotchu. Always gotchu, until the day I die,” Joel promised, leaning forward to capture your lips as he positioned himself. 

A whine came from your mouth when he pressed himself inside, slowly burying himself to the hilt and hungrily devouring each sound that the weight of his cock pulled from your mouth. Still hungry for more, Joel slipped one leg over his shoulder and sunk so deep that you had to pull your mouth off of his to gasp. With every inch of him inside, throbbing against your twitching walls as you struggled to adjust, Joel’s mind felt fuzzy. 

“Big s-so big Joel, s’too much,” you whined against his mouth. 

Joel groaned, “I know honey, but you can take it. I always make it fit, don’t I? My sweet pussy is so good at letting me stretch her out, isn’t she? Listen to her baby, she loves it.” 

You whimpered at his filthy words, leaving red scratch marks on his back and shoulders as your hips started to grind down against his. Joel chuckled, taking that as all the green light he needed for him to start thrusting away at your dripping hole. 

“Yes, yes, yes, so good Joel. Too good for me, love it, love you,” you babbled with fresh tears shining in your eyes. 

The praise released some of the stress that had worked its way into his muscles, making him sink further into you until not a single inch of space remained. Sweat slicked and panting, the two of you writhed together on the floor, working yourselves higher and higher with each movement. The leg over his shoulder began to shake and Joel turned his head, pressing hip lips to your calf before he nipped it. You yelped at the sting, clenching down on him so hard that he almost lost it. 

“Shit babygirl,” he groaned, “Don’t do that or unless you want me to fucking fill you up. God - fuck, make you mine.” 

“You already have,” you sobbed, pulling him down to pant against your mouth as the tension rose, “I’m already yours Joel, it’s yours baby, shiiiiit.”  

When he felt your pussy spasm, preparing to gush around his cock and milk him for all he’s worth, Joel pressed his mouth close to your ear. Groaning as he focused on keeping the pace, he managed to grunt out a command that he knew would finish you off. 

“All mine hm? Such a good girl honey, now cum for me. Show me how good my cock makes you feel and fucking cum,” Joel ordered you. 

Joel kissed you then, greedily taking all of the choked noises you released and drinking them down like they were the finest aged brandy he had ever tasted. Your pussy choked him, holding him in a vice grip before your walls began to pulsate around him so hard that the intensity of it almost hurt. He hissed, his pace faltering a bit at the feeling of your drenched walls trying to hold him hostage, and barely managed to hold on. 

He wanted you to be able to ride out your orgasm, to let every bit of pleasure roll over you until you were boneless and sated, but you had other plans. Almost as if you had sensed Joel holding back, you grasped the back of his neck and brought him closer. With one hand to his throat, gently nudging his chin upwards as your other remained buried in his hair, you nosed at his neck for a moment before clamping your teeth over the spot you had already claimed. 

A high like no other rushed through him as you broke the skin, further cementing your place in his life with yet another claim over his mind, body, and soul. He whined loudly, shoving all of himself inside of you with one brutal thrust that forced you up the makeshift bed by a couple of inches as you stayed latched onto him. Pure ecstasy raced through his veins, making him collapse on top of you as his cock spurted a seemingly endless stream of cum deep inside of you. When you finally pulled away, licking up the blood that rose to the surface and sealing the wound with your tongue, Joel was completely boneless. 

“I’ll only ever choose you Joel, over anyone and anything. You’re stuck with me, I hope you realize that,” you sighed into his ear once you were done. 

Joel hummed, “Sounds mighty fine honey. Being stuck with you is the only thing I’d ever want.” 

The laugh you granted him lit up his insides, making his heart swell with all of the thick emotions that the poets used to write about before the world went to shit. He wished that he had the words to explain to you how he truly felt, how he would tear out his own heart and give it to you if he thought that’s what you wanted, but he would have to settle for the laugh that warmed him after he said something cheesy. Which was alright, the latter still seemed to work on you. 

When Joel finally gathered his wits and his knot had gone down enough, he moved to pull away but you stopped him. Whining and locking your legs around him even tighter, you effectively kept his hips hostage. 

“Darling, let me get you something to clean up with. Then we can cuddle,” he tried, stroking your sides to comfort you. 

Sometimes after sex, it was him. Sometimes after sex, it was you. Or sometimes, it was the both of you. Either way, at least one party was always greedier for the proximity than the other and the other was always more than happy to oblige. No matter who started it, it always ended with the two of you staying wrapped up in each other for hours. Not that Joel was complaining, it was usually him falling asleep while buried inside of you. With you wrapped around him in every possible way as he slept, he always felt so safe. He couldn’t help it, Joel was an old man and cumming inside of your pussy was like taking a pre-outbreak prescription grade xanax.  

“Please, can you just stay inside for a bit longer? I just want to feel close to you right now, I’ve missed you,” you begged him. 

And who was Joel to say no to such a request? Rolling himself back over the length of you, he groaned as his cock nestled itself back inside. The whine you let out at the feeling made him involuntarily twitch, the blood rushing back to his groin quickly. When you clenched around him, he had a hard time trying not to start thrusting again. 

“Was getting me to stay inside just a way for you to get me to fuck you again because if so, you could’ve just asked,” Joel laughed. 

You giggled, “No, that’s just your dirty mind, old man.”

He guffawed, encouraged by your taunting to start thrusting his oversensitive cock in and out until he was fully hardened again. His cum squelched inside of your pussy, pouring out around the sides of him and dampening the curls that rubbed at your clit. 

“Old man huh? When are you gonna admit that you like that I’m older -umph, shit - you like that I know how to take care of that little pussy, hm?,” he taunted, making you moan and begin to swivel your hips against him. 

“Yesss, I love it. F-fuck, love how you know how to fuck me, take care of me, nobody else could ever do it like you do daddy,” you gasped. 

The squeal you let out when Joel threw both of your legs over his shoulders, effectively bending you in half as he slid even deeper than before, was music to his ears. Fingernails scrabbled at his strong arms as they pressed the backs of your knees up by your face, gifting him with even more angry red marks to remember you by. The thought of you marking him up, showing that he was undeniably yours, made his cock jump inside of you. 

“Fuck yeah darling, know you do,” he moaned, picking up the pace until he was slamming himself into you hard and fast. 

The room was filled with a cacophony of slapping skin, whines, and groans. The squelching of your cum soaked pussy was lewd, but it made him groan and pound into you even faster. Joel smiled devilishly when your eyes rolled back, legs shaking as you clamped down on him again. He grunted as your release splashed his lower abdomen. 

“Aw honey, already?,” he chuckled darkly, “Well, I’m not done with you yet. Not even fucking close.” 

Just as your fourth orgasm petered off, making you a mess of splayed limbs and sweat against the floor, Joel pulled out and flipped you onto your front. As you arched your back, lifting your hips and dropping your chest to the blankets to present yourself for him, Joel bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t even have to ask you for it. 

One of his hands came up to your ass, rubbing the skin softly before he slapped it. You moaned, more slick dripping down your spread legs as you wiggled in anticipation. He grabbed his cock, trying desperately to ward off the ecstacy that loomed in his gut as he watched a glob of your shared release drip onto the floor. Joel couldn’t cum yet. First, he needed to wreck you. 

“So beautiful like this, perfect for me,” Joel whispered, leaning forward to kiss up your spine. 

The soft kisses he left on your back was in sharp contrast to the way Joel pushed himself inside, driving himself to the hilt without any warning. He reared back, drawing himself almost all the way out before he slammed back in. Starting a ruthless pace that had you babbling nonsense into the blankets, Joel could feel his balls tightening up already. Your pussy was too wet, too warm, to fucking tight around him, with each thrust forward making you grip his cock harder. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last like this. 

“Daddyyyy, fuuuck! Please, please, please, please, I’ll be good, so good for you,” you cried. 

He wasn’t sure you even knew what you were begging for, so lost in the fog of pleasure that you were just spewing pleading sentiments to call for something you didn’t know you needed. Luckily, Joel was fluent in the babbling whines you let out during sex and blanketed himself over you. Pressing the weight of his body into yours, he grinned when you dissolved into high pitched keens that made him twitch in turn. Gripping one of your breasts in his hands, his heart soared when you laced your fingers with his. 

“Joel,” you sighed, squeezing his hand. 

“Yeah honey?,” he panted, trying hard to stave off his incoming orgasm until he felt your release. 

“I love you,” you said. 

And just like that, he was done for. Joel’s mind went blank and he heard an embarrassingly loud whine crawl out of his throat. Thrusting up hard two more times, he cried out as his cock locked inside of you and released a torrent of cum, coating your walls with milky white. Joel’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as you finally came around him, your walls sucking him in, tightening and untightening around him hard as he gave you every last bit of his release. It just kept going and going, until he felt like he was never going to stop cumming. It was only when the pleasure started to fade off into overstimulation that your pussy was finally sated. He collapsed, maneuvering you so that you were comfortable in his arms as he curled around you. 

“Fuck honey, that was…,” he started. 

“Yeah,” you dumbly agreed, still panting as you came down. 

Joel laughed and so did you, ushering in a silence that wasn’t filled with hidden resentments or fears. It was peaceful and loving, his heart warming as you reached back to play with his curls. He hummed and nosed at your throat, brushing sweet kisses along the fresh bite as he watched the way the crackling fire glinted off of your sweat soaked skin. 

“I love you too, so much,” Joel finally answered and you hummed, leaning back to capture his lips in a sweet kiss before you snuggled back down into the blankets. 

On the strict agreement that you would wake him if he fell asleep for too long, Joel laid behind you and pressed his face into the crook of your neck. You sighed, hugging the arm slung around your chest and reaching back to play with his hair every so often as he softened inside of you. Every part of him was glued to you in the stillness of the night, making sure he stayed as close as humanly possible as your heart rates slowed down together. 

When you finally fell asleep, not faking it for the first time in two days, Joel was extremely careful not to wake you when he pulled out. After pausing with every inch, he was graced with the sight of his own cum spilling out of you and onto the blankets. He grinned, having to shake himself from the far off fantasy of a swollen belly that the view sparked in his mind. It was ridiculous of course, he was much too old and the world was way too fucked up, but he had to admit that the thought of it was nice. Perhaps in a different life the two of you would have made it a reality. 

Shaking himself from the fantasy, Joel carefully tiptoed from the room and managed to scrounge up some abandoned baby wipes stuffed inside one of the bathroom drawers. The moisture in them had long since dried up, but the wipes themselves still smelled nice and were perfect for cleaning the both of you off before he eased himself back down. You turned over, mumbling something about family again in your sleep as you threw a leg over him. It made him smile. Never in his life had Joel thought that it was Tommy of all people that would be giving you all this grief. 

“S’alright sugar,” he sighed, “You’re easy to fall in love with.” 

Wrapping his arms around you and pressing a firm kiss to the top of your head, Joel felt himself being lulled by the sounds of the dying fire and your muffled sleep talking. To ward off the incoming chill of the morning, he pulled a few blankets up around your bodies and pressed himself even closer to you. Finally, with you peacefully sleeping in his arms for the first time in days, he dozed off. 

It was only the next morning, when a familiar voice jolted him from sleep, that Joel had wished he thought to put on some clothes. His eyes snapped open, quickly finding a pair of brown ones that matched his own. Joel lurched forward, clutching at the blankets that had been kicked away, trying the best that he could to protect your sleeping form from an unwanted gaze. 

Tommy raised his eyebrows at him, politely averting his eyes as Joel’s fussing caused you to stir with an annoyed groan. 

“Joooooel, stop it! You fucked the shit out of me last night, it’s only fair that you let me sleep in you asshole,” you whined. 

Joel’s eyes widened, his face turning even redder as he looked up at his grinning little shit of a brother. Tommy chuckled and shook his head, looking like he had about a million jokes to crack as the eldest Miller did his best impression of a deer caught in headlights. You were none the wiser, already fast asleep at his side again and completely unaware of the bomb you had just dropped in front of the person you had been terrified to meet hours earlier. 

“Well howdy to you too big brother, looks like we’ve got a hell of a lot to catch up on.” 

[joelmillersdumbslut]

I think it's time you had a pink cloud summer (part one) (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

masterlist

summary: After losing your job and moving back to your hometown, you begin a fast-paced and steamy summer romance with your parents' friend, Joel Miller. (no outbreak AU, no use of y/n)

rating: 18+ explicit (minors do NOT interact)

warnings (for this chapter): age gap (reader is in late 20's, joel is in his 50's), dirty talk, pet names, hand kink (if you squint), mutual masturbation, fingering, hand job, soft!joel, dbf!joel, just a mix of smut and fluff

word count: 5.2k

a/n: this is my self-indulgent attempt at a smut and fluff series featuring my fav, joel miller. hope you enjoy it! ♡

ao3 link

You’re a loser. You’ve resigned to that fact. Your career has abruptly ended at the ripe age of twenty-eight. Over a fucking Zoom meeting, of all the ways to be laid off.

We appreciate all the hard work you’ve done for us.

You’re just not the right fit for this company.

We wish you luck with your future endeavors.

The job you fought so hard for. The one you studied and practiced hours for the interviews alone. The late nights spent at the office, weekends of writing emails and checking for messages from your coworkers. All gone in an instant.

After a few days of crying and wallowing in your misery, you call your parents. They drop everything to help you move back to your childhood home in Austin.

Your room is untouched. Pink bedding, unicorn decals on the walls, plastic glow-in-the-dark stars clinging to the ceiling. You cringe and beg your mom to let you paint over it. But, she loves reminiscing about the good ol’ days of your youth, and asks you to think about it before making any “irrational” decisions. You leave it as is. For now.

While you’re hauling the last box from your car to the house, a hand touches your shoulder. You spin around to see a man. Graying hair, scruffy beard, dressed in dirty jeans and a black t-shirt. His biceps protruding through the cloth. Your first thought is how attractive he is. And how he looks so familiar.

“Hey there, remember me?”

You squint at first before it hits you.

“Mr. Miller? I haven’t seen you since… Since I don’t know when,” you set the box down and he embraces you. His cologne fills your nostrils and you take a deep breath, hoping to remember the smell.

“You call me Joel now, we’re both adults, right?” he chuckles.

Joel lets go, his eyes trained on you. “Thought you were livin’ in Dallas. Had you a big girl job.”

Your face falls, you play with your hair nervously, “Well, I did. Guess they had enough of me.”

“Sorry, babygirl,” he mutters, the word knocking the wind out of you. “Sure you’ll find somethin’.”

“Yeah, if you have any leads, let me know,” you laugh awkwardly.

Since when did Joel get so handsome? Was he always this way, but you were too young to notice? Or care? His long, thick fingers comb out the curls in his hair and your heart skips a beat. Salacious thoughts about those fingers run through your mind before Joel’s gravelly voice brings you back down to Earth.

“Your mama invited me over for dinner. Lemme carry that for you.” Joel picks up the box and heads for the door.

—

“I know it’s weird. Please don’t judge me,” you feel embarrassed at the fact that the hot, older friend of your parents is standing in your childhood bedroom. You feel the urge to rip the decals off the walls, throw the girly bedding out the window. Anything to prove to him you’re not a kid anymore. Your anxiety doesn’t seem to faze him though. He sets the box down on the desk next to your computer, taking in the scenery around him.

“I like the stars,” he says, nodding at the ceiling.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen a night full of real stars,” you admit. “It’s hard to see them in the city.”

A prolonged pause fills the air. Joel raises his eyebrows, looking to test the waters.

“Maybe I could take you,” he murmurs.

“Like, the two of us?” you ask, stepping closer to him.

“Yeah, just like that,” he affirms. He closes the distance between the two of you. You’re standing face to face. Joel reaches out to caress your cheek. Your body is on fire.

“I’d like that,” you hum.

Joel seems to be thinking. Weighing the options of his situation. You bite your lower lip in anticipation.

And before you know it, Joel’s hand is reaching for yours. It happens so suddenly. His lips crash into you. His beard tickling your skin. You reciprocate, kissing him back, your hand clutching his fingers for dear life. You don’t dare pull away. Not yet. His tongue enters your mouth and collides with yours. Instinctively, you moan, and Joel drops your hand to wrap his arms around your body, pulling you even closer to him. You can feel something poking you through his pants. Your hand moves lower and lower and—

“Honey, dinner’s ready! Have you seen Mr. Miller?” your mom’s voice calls from the hallway.

The two of you separate. Quickly. Joel stands beside the desk, the box blocking his lower half from view. You sit on the bed, ignoring the wetness growing between your thighs.

Your mom is now in the doorway, apron tied around her waist. A delighted expression shines on her face. She has no idea what events just transpired in her daughter’s childhood bedroom. And you are going to make sure she never finds out.

“Joel was just helping me with my moving boxes,” your smile is as sweet as saccharine.

The older man gruffs and moves to tousle your hair, “It’s good to have her back.”

—

You think about his tongue, what it would be like between your thighs. You think about his fingers, wondering what it would feel like if they were to hold your breasts. You think about his cock straining against the denim of his jeans, desperate and hungry. Just for you.

You masturbate all night long.

Thinking of him.

—

In the morning, you decide to go for a walk. You can’t job hunt. Not yet. Not with your mind clouded like this.

You need to figure out where this is going first.

You head down the street and round the corner. Joel’s house is on the left. It’s Monday, but you hope he’s there. Maybe he took the day off from work. How could anyone be expected to focus after that moment in your bedroom?

He’s waiting for you on the front porch. His hands are occupied with his guitar, morning sunlight gleaming against the wood of the instrument. It reminds you of the way he’d play songs for you when you were a teenager. You would sit on the floor of his living room, watching in awe as his fingers danced across the neck of the guitar. You’re trying to recall what exactly he played for you, maybe it was Bob Dylan or Pink Floyd, but that memory soon escapes your brain when Joel glances up at you. He smiles as you carefully take the steps, each foot landing on the wood with a heavy thud. You cross the porch and sit down on the swing next to him.

“Good morning,” you finally say. Your hands are already shaking. Afraid you read the signals wrong. Terrified he may turn you down.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” he asks, setting the guitar down against the porch railing. His arm envelops your frame, pulling you a little closer. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest.

Your answer is honest. Straight-forward. Simple.

“I came back for more.”

—

You find yourself standing in Joel’s living room. It’s been so many years, but it’s just like how you remember it. Knick knacks, magazines, and books spread out across shelves. A record player with a stack of vinyl in the corner. You thumb through the collection, settling on a Soundgarden album. You vaguely remember Joel telling you about them when you were going through your “emo phase.” You had preferred Nirvana instead. Once you slide the record onto the slipmat of the player and drop the needle, the heavy, sludgy rock music fills the air. You turn back to face him.

He’s been watching you intently, a small grin on his face. “Just makin’ yourself at home, huh, babygirl?”

You blush at that word again. It fills you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. One that feels so wrong that it’s got to be right.

“What, you like when I call you that?” he teases, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What are we doing?” you ask quietly, your skin burning against his slightest touch. You know exactly what you’re doing. You know what’s about to happen in this house. You just want to hear him say it. Make it come to life. Make your fantasy a reality.

“Whatever you want, pretty girl,” he kisses your forehead, moving down to your neck. The small nips and bites he leaves have you aching for more, but you silently pray he doesn’t create any marks for your parents to see. How would you even begin to explain that?

“Is what we’re doing okay?” you mumble between his kisses, fighting off all the moans trying to escape your lips. “What if my parents find out?”

Joel pulls away, holding your hands. His soft brown eyes stare into yours.

“We don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do. We’ll go at your pace,” he whispers. “And if they find out, I’ll take care of it. How’s that sound?”

It’s an offer you can’t refuse.

—

“Ri-right here?” your voice trembles as Joel leads you to the couch. He had suggested you start there before making your way to his bedroom. On one hand, it feels rather adolescent. But on the other hand, there’s something about sneaking around like a couple of teenagers that excites you.

“Remember what I told you,” Joel plants kisses along your hairline as he helps you sit down on the couch. “Whatever you wanna do. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He heads into the dining room, returning with a chair. He sits across from you, waiting for you to make the first move.

Moments pass. Joel’s hand reaches out, caressing your cheek. You can feel yourself melt as his calloused fingertips brush against your skin.

“It’s—It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything, with anybody,” you say suddenly, mindlessly picking at your fingernails. “Work kept me busy. I guess I don’t… I don’t even know where to start.”

Joel stares at you, deep in thought. Finally, he asks, “You wanna watch me?”

You glance up at him, amused. You’ve never done this with a partner before. Especially not with an older man like Joel. But, you aren’t going to let your lack of experience stop you.

“Okay,” you grin.

At your command, Joel unbuttons his jeans. He slowly pulls the zipper down. You observe his fluid movements as his cock springs from his boxers, and he begins to stroke himself. Soft moans slip away from his lips. He occasionally looks at you to smile.

After a few minutes of watching Joel touch himself, you begin to feel your insides throb. Thinking about how badly you want him. Your nerves dissipate as you remember what he told you. Whatever you want. At your pace. 

“I can’t let you have all the fun,” you giggle as you slip out of your shorts. Joel groans at the sight of you in your underwear.

“Such a pretty thing,” he murmurs, pumping into his hand at a quicker pace. “You gonna play with yourself for me?”

Your hand slips into your panties and you start rubbing your clit. Your fingers moving in slow circles against your already sensitive bud. You whine from your own touch, which causes Joel to crack a smile as he further examines you.

The two of you watch each other. The only sounds in the room consist of your simultaneous labored breathing and the record player needle reaching the end of the vinyl, a dull scratching noise on repeat.

“Can I see you, babygirl?” a whimper breaks away from Joel’s throat. You can see the head of his cock is now glistening in precum. You wonder how close he is.

With a smirk, you kick off your underwear, spreading your legs for him. You swear the old man’s heart stops for just a moment as he stares straight into your dripping pussy. Absolutely hypnotized.

“So pretty,” he exhales, his hand quickening its strokes, “That all for me?”

“It is,” you reply in a hush, “Is that cock all for me?”

“Just for you, babygirl, just for you,” Joel sighs.

You buck your hips as you keep touching yourself. You can feel your orgasm building quickly as you watch Joel. Imagining his cock inside you is pushing you over the edge.

“I think I might cum soon,” you whisper, your fingers moving faster against your clit, fire growing deep inside your belly.

“Can I help you, babygirl?” Joel asks, removing his hand from his cock. You nod frantically, needing something, anything to help you release the tension building inside your body.

The long and thick middle finger of Joel’s hand is suddenly curling up inside you, hitting places you forgot had existed. Places your own fingers can’t even reach. He moves in and out gently. Your body stiffens right as you’re about to let go. You hear Joel mumbling words of encouragement, plenty of them including “babygirl,” as you cum all over his couch, your arousal trickling down the back of your thighs and sticking to the fabric.

Joel follows you soon after. He takes your slick from his finger, using it as lube for his cock. He mutters obscenities as you watch him orgasm, long liquid ropes splattering in the palms of his hands. He breathes heavily in the afterglow, looking up at you to grin. 

“How was that, babygirl?”

You nod, your brain still thinking of his fingers, his cock, his mouth, his everything, unable to find the words you’re looking for. Joel stands up and walks to the kitchen.

You begin looking around for your clothing, not remembering where you had tossed it during all of the commotion. You hear the kitchen sink running as you pull on your underwear, reaching for your shorts next. Once you’re fully dressed again, you make your way to the record player on the other side of the living room and flip the vinyl to the next side. Trying to find excuses to stay a little longer in case he wants you to leave. Your heart sinks, hoping that’s not the case. Hoping you’re more than just material to jack off to.

To your surprise, Joel’s arms wrap around you from behind, and he leans down to kiss you.

“You don’t have anywhere to be, right?” his voice is a little wobbly. You wonder what he’s got to be nervous about. If anything, you feel like you should be the anxious one.

“I was hoping to stay for a while. If that’s okay,” you answer, turning around to face him.

“Good,” his smile is genuine, warm. “I was plannin’ on takin’ you to see the stars.”

—

When dusk rolls around, Joel leads you to his truck. He holds the door open for you as you settle into the passenger seat with plastic bags filled to the brim with snacks and drinks. You set them on the floorboard and put on your seatbelt as Joel sits down next to you in the driver’s seat. You’re looking through your phone for songs to play on your mini-road trip when you receive a call.

“Shit, it’s my dad,” you mutter, eyes darting between the “Answer” and “Decline” icons on your screen. You never told your parents where you were headed when you left this morning.

“You should tell ‘em where you are,” Joel suggests, turning the key in the ignition to start the vehicle.

“You gotta help me then,” you respond, your eyes full of fear. You aren’t sure how your parents would react if they were to find out you spent the day messing around with their longtime friend. And even though you’re an adult who is capable of making her own decisions, even if that includes developing a relationship with an older man, you're still afraid of their reactions.

“‘Course I will, babygirl,” Joel grips your thigh as you tap on the “Answer” icon.

“Hello?” you try to remain cool and collected when you pick up the phone.

“Honey, where have you been? Your mom and I have been worried sick,” your dad’s voice echoes through the speaker.

“I know, I’m sorry. I lost track of time,” you explain. Not totally a lie. You just won’t tell him what you spent your time doing.

“Where are you?” your dad asks.

You glance at Joel, your eyes pleading for help.

“Don’t worry, she’s with me,” Joel answers. “Found her a temporary job while she’s lookin’.”

“Joel, is that you?” your dad’s voice is drenched in confusion, “What did you find for her to do?”

“Figured she could organize my paperwork and my blueprints,” Joel says calmly. Your eyes light up as you remember Joel’s carpentry business. It’s a good cover.

“Yeah, he needs all the help he can get,” you add with a grin. Joel smiles back at you.

Your dad lets out a sigh of relief, “That’s mighty kind of you, Joel. Just make sure she’s not out too late.”

“Dad, I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m in good hands with… Mr. Miller,” you remark.

“I know, I know. We’ll see you when you get home,” your dad says and the call ends.

You stare at your phone, wondering how the hell you just pulled that off.

“You know, you’re gonna have to actually work for me now,” Joel teases you as he backs the truck out of the driveway, turning onto the street.

“I don’t know, seems like a lot of effort. What exactly do I get out of it?” you joke back at him.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Joel chuckles, his hand reaching for yours as he drives toward the highway.

—

An hour later, you’re fifty miles outside of Austin. On the way to your destination, Joel tells you about this river with beachside parking that’s great for stargazing. It’s hard to focus on the conversation when his fingers are interlaced with yours. Those same fingers that were touching you just hours earlier. You snap back to reality when Joel squeezes your hand.

It’s pitch black when you pull into the parking lot at the river. The sky is littered with stars and planets and the blinking lights of airplanes flying overhead. Just begging for you to see what wonders it holds.

You climb into the bed of Joel’s truck, laying on your back. You forget about how uncomfortable it is when Joel joins you, his arm wrapping around you.

“See that one right there? That’s Jupiter,” he whispers, his scruff grazing your ear.

“How do you know?” you squint your eyes, trying to see it a little better. A bright blue glowing dot in the nighttime sky. Millions of miles away from you.

“Looked it up before we came here. Wanted to impress you,” Joel sheepishly admits.

Your heart skips a beat as the two of you continue to look up into the atmosphere.

“You know,” Joel breaks the silence, “It’s been about ten years since I last saw you. We got a lot to catch up on.”

“Well, we’ve got all the time in the world now,” you lean over and kiss his nose. It’s hard to see in the dark, but you swear his face briefly turned red.

You nod at one of the clusters of stars in the sky and ask, “Which one is that?”

“Which one? Hard to see with all of ‘em so close together.”

“That one riiiight there,” you smirk, your finger pointing at a star at the very edge of the cluster. All by its lonesome.

“Don’t know,” Joel laughs, “Maybe that could be our star.”

“I like the sound of that,” you murmur, cuddling closer to him.

—

You spend your days at Joel’s house. He actually puts you to work organizing his carpentry blueprints and filing business paperwork. But, it’s easy and you’re grateful for something to keep you busy. Spending time in Joel’s presence is an added bonus.

It’s been a few weeks since you watched each other. Glimpses of that moment keep swirling around in your mind. You try to focus on alphabetizing Joel’s client list, but all you can think about is the way his hand wrapped around his cock. Sliding up and down his length. You think about how you wish that was your hand instead. You wonder what his skin feels like, you wonder what it tastes like, you wonder what it would feel like inside of you—

“You workin’ hard or hardly workin’?” Joel’s voice disrupts your impure daydreams and you nearly jump out of your seat.

“I’m almost done,” you stammer, spinning around in your chair to face Joel. He’s standing just inside the doorframe of the home office. He’s covered in dirt and sawdust and sweat.

“Gonna take a shower. You wanna hang out when you’re done?” he looks at you expectantly.

You’ve been skipping dinner with your parents a few nights a week to “hang out” with Joel. Which entails making out on his couch, your hands traveling across each other’s clothed bodies, kisses on cheeks and necks and shoulders. Every night, you pray that it leads to something more.

“If you wanna hang out, I’ll be free,” you can feel your face burn, wondering if he has anything special in mind for the two of you tonight. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“Good. Got a surprise for you.”

Or maybe it’s not.

—

“We’re here,” Joel puts the truck in park, glancing over at you with an enthusiastic expression.

“A record store?” your face is planted against the glass window of the truck as you marvel at the flashing neon “open” sign hanging on the shop door.

“Thought maybe we could pick out some new albums together,” Joel runs his fingers through his hair, “Since you like my record player so much.”

You beam at him and lean across the console of the truck to hug him. He seems surprised, but returns your embrace, his hand rubbing your back.

“Come on, let’s go!” you break away from him and push open the truck door. Joel scurries after you.

The inside of the store is filled with racks and shelves. The vinyl records are organized by genre, mostly in alphabetical order. A little anarchy seems to exist in certain sections, but what you’re focused on is rock. The bridge that connects you and Joel.

You thumb through the albums whose artists start with the letter “N,” already knowing exactly what you’re looking for. Joel joins you, amusement dancing across his face as he watches you.

“Oh my god, they have it!” you exclaim, carefully sliding a record out from the batch before you.

“What’s that?” Joel scrunches his eyes as you show him the cover.

“Only one of the most monumental albums in history! It’s from when Nirvana played acoustic versions of their songs live on MTV,” you explain quickly, your excitement growing.

“Were you even alive back then?” Joel teases, scanning a stack of records in front of him.

“Can we get it, Joel? Please?” you bat your eyelashes, fully prepared to go all doe-eyed in the case that he tells you to put it back.

“Only if we can get this,” he says, holding up a dark pink album cover with hands and arms reaching up to the text of the band’s name.

“Pearl Jam? You still listen to them?” you smile, remembering that Joel had given you a burned copy of one of their albums when you were in high school. You don’t remember ever listening to it, but now you hope you have it packed away somewhere in one of the moving boxes in your bedroom.

“‘Course I do. You think I’m old or somethin’?”

“You’re not that old,” you playfully punch his arm.

You feel the urge to say something. You’re not sure if the two of you are there yet, but you want to see how he reacts. See if this is going where you think it might be. Better to figure it out now than get your heart broken later on down the line.

“This is probably the best second date ever,” you confess hesitantly.

Joel looks surprised, but not startled. He takes your hand, leading you to the cash register.

“‘Probably?’ Anything I can do to make it the best second date ever?” he asks, a small grin appearing on his face.

“I’m sure you can think of something,” you smirk, relief washing over you.

—

Once you get back to Joel’s house, you kick off your shoes in front of the door, making your way to the living room. It’s late and you should be home by now. Your parents are probably worried. You know you should hurry home. But, you have to arrange the albums perfectly. You decide to organize Joel’s existing pile into alphabetical order after he admitted to you that he normally leaves the records lying around when he’s not listening to them.

After spending a few minutes getting everything systematized, you finally place Nirvana and Pearl Jam next to each other in the stack, standing back to admire your handiwork. Ever since you lost your job, you’ve been feeling like you don’t have control over anything. But, at least Joel lets you have this with his albums and his paperwork. A little bit of calm amidst turbulence. 

“It’s gettin’ late,” Joel is standing behind you now, “You should probably head home.”

“Yeah,” you respond somewhat sullenly. Spending time with Joel has recently become the highlight of your days. You always manage to find reasons to stay. Because leaving is the hardest part.

“Unless…” Joel begins.

You turn around, your eyes darting between his face and his hands.

“Unless what?” you ask.

Joel’s hand reaches up. He tips your chin as he leans in to kiss you. The press of his lips is soft, doting, sweet. You ache for more. You always do. With him, it’s never enough.

“Can I touch you, babygirl?” he asks between bated breaths. Pulling away, he looks into your eyes. Waiting for your confirmation.

“Please,” you whimper, “Please touch me.”

Joel guides you to the couch, gesturing for you to lay down. You shimmy out of your pants and underwear, letting them pool onto the floor. As soon as you’re on your back against the cushions, Joel climbs on top of you. His kisses are ravenous as he nibbles your collar bones, leaving his mark for you to see, to admire later on when you’re alone.

“You ready?” his hand moves from playing with your breast to just below your belly. He hovers over your sex, waiting for you to give him the word.

“I’m ready.”

“If you don’t wanna do this anymore, you tell me to stop. Okay?” Joel refuses to break eye contact with you until you nod. 

His middle finger easily penetrates you and slips inside your body. A gasp evades your throat and you arch your back. Joel begins to move slowly, his calloused fingertip hitting your sweet spot just right.

“How’s that feel, babygirl?” he asks, kissing your jaw.

“So fucking good,” you murmur, focusing on the pleasure being transmitted from your core to your limbs to your brain to your teeth to your toes.

“Want another one?”

He certainly doesn’t have to ask twice because you’re wildly nodding, silently begging and pleading for more.

“You let me know if it hurts,” Joel adds another finger, sliding deep inside you, pumping in and out a little bit faster now.

“So, so good,” you can already feel your orgasm building, climbing up from deep down inside your depths.

“I know, babygirl, you’re so fucking wet. Just imagine how wet and tight you’ll be when I finally fuck you,” he cooes.

“I want you so bad, Joel,” you whine, panting faster as your body exudes your satisfaction.

“Soon, babygirl, soon. Just focus right here, right here on my fingers. Cum for me.”

And you do. You cum all over the couch, liquid dripping from between your legs. Joel fucks you through it, slowing down once you’ve reached the end. He gently removes his fingers from your pussy, holding them up to his mouth. He sucks on them and you feel desire rise up inside you again. You want him so bad. You feel insatiable.

“You taste so good, babygirl,” he leans down and kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Can… Can I touch you?” The words barrel past your lips.

Joel sits up, leaning back against the couch. He unzips his jeans, reaching into his boxers. He eases his cock out. It’s already hard, waiting just for you.

“Come here,” he smiles.

You suddenly sit up, leaning against him. Your hand makes contact with him. The skin is soft and smooth. Just like you had imagined it.

It’s been a long time since you’ve touched another person. So, you mimic what he had done a few weeks earlier. You start out slow, your hand gliding up and down his shaft. You glance up at him to gauge his reaction. Joel is breathing deeply, his eyes closed. Focusing all on you.

“How does it feel?” you question him, your hand moving a little faster now.

“Feels good, babygirl,” he murmurs. His head tilts toward you, his kisses along your neck are driven by desire and lust.

“Bet it would feel better if my pussy was wrapped around you,” you purr mischievously.

That gets a groan out of Joel. His sighs are getting shorter, raspier. He must be reaching the edge.

“You got a mouth on you, you know that?” he teases.

You hurry your hand’s pace, hoping to help Joel arrive at his climax. Your thumb grazes the head of his cock, you can feel arousal dribbling out.

“Doin’ such a good job for me,” Joel moans, “You’re gonna make me cum, babygirl.”

You stroke faster as he releases into your hand, covering your palm in a sticky, ropy substance. You slow down, kissing him on the cheek.

Then you climb into Joel’s lap, holding him close to you. Your chests rising and falling as one. You spend several moments like this. Just existing. Together. Joel’s fingers interlace with yours, combining each other’s fluids.

“I don’t wanna go,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to,” his lips brush against you, “Stay here with me for a little while.”

A little while turns into several hours. Time spent kissing and listening to music and dancing in the living room. You sneak back into your bedroom after 4 a.m. You’re careful not to wake your parents. You wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain the bruises on your skin, the pounding in your chest, the yearning in your heart.

You fall asleep thinking about how losing your job and moving back home originally felt like a death sentence. But, now with Joel, it feels like the beginning of a new life.

And there’s so much yet to experience.

—

[scientia-rex]

Medicine is a numbers game. I use probability all the time. If you don't understand probability, you'll look at someone with chest pain and have no fucking clue how likely it is that you're looking at a heart attack. You may not even know what the other top contenders are. GERD is common. Anxiety. An angry rib muscle. Lots of options. Most of the time, most chest pain won't be a heart attack, but sometime it'll be something worse--an aortic dissection that's rupturing will kill you even faster than most heart attacks.

I see so many patients who come in with a symptom that the Internet, whether Google or influencers, has told them is associated with this one thing. It's often the thyroid. And yeah! A fucked-up thyroid can cause all kinds of symptoms. But here's the deal: if I check your thyroid and it looks normal, it's probably not your thyroid that's causing the symptoms. It could be something else we understand. It is very often something we don't understand. But the fact that I can tell you modern medicine doesn't understand some process doesn't mean your naturopath or chiropractor or Certified Hormone Expert Influencer does understand it because they have this different way of looking at the body. Look, long, long before I wanted to be a doctor, I wanted to be an herbalist. I'm queer, I'm a woman(ish), I am neurodivergent, I am not The Man. I'm not beholden to the system; the system doesn't care for me and wishes I would sit down and shut up, most days. And I have a background in research science and statistics. I used to have a rubber stamp that said "Denied" and one that said "Approved" and I'd hit piles of paper for research applications at an R-1 university, in triplicate, with my stamps, because I understood research well enough to get a Human Subjects Division job evaluating it. If a naturopathic approach to thyroid worked well, I would be doing it. I'm a utilitarian. I don't give a rat's ass about the theoretical underpinnings of modern medical practice, I want things to work. Ideally I would like to know why they work, too, but hey, we can't always have it all.

So the dozens of patients I get every month who are looking elsewhere for answers, looking to people who don't actually know any better but are good at pretending they do, who pay money for elaborate supplement regimens or unvalidated genetic tests or (my personal least favorite) "memory-improving games," I have to be calm and professional and diplomatic about what I say. I can't say, "That's quack shit." I can't say, "Your favorite influencer is a liar and an idiot." Not just because I'd get lower patient satisfaction scores, but because patients wouldn't believe me, and they would reactively like me less and the other guy more. (You're calling me stupid? You're saying I wasted money? If I believe you're just a shill for Big Pharma, that hurts less.)

It takes years, even decades, to understand how to put together the probability maps. Chest pain in a patient under 40? Highly unlikely to be a myocardial infarction, but not totally impossible, especially if they've been doing cocaine. In a patient over 60? Much more likely. Is the pain crushing? Is it sub-sternal? How long has it been going on? Is it constant, or intermittent? Does the patient smoke? What other health conditions does the patient have? These are all deeply important questions, and I remember feeling overwhelmed by things like this all the time in medical school. It's taken so long to build my knowledge, and my background in research is only tangentially valuable most of the time.

Please don't believe authority just because it looks good. Don't trust people because you want to trust them. Learn about the scientific process, learn how the sausage gets made, and then you'll be in an infinitely better position to know whether this is a "wow! science!!!" or a "wow! science bullshit!" moment.

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 12: Heart On The Line

Chapter Word Count: 4,193

TW

(including spoilers) 1) SOMEONE GETS SHOT, IT'S MESSY. 2) Major Character near death experience (Someone flat lines) 3) REALLY BAD DESCRIPTION OF MEDICAL ENVIRONMENT / Someone puts their hand in a body (non-sexual, actually horrible) (this is here because I- listen….this is a heavy chapter) 4) Mouse has some trauma, we'll get into that later, kinda 5) Gross depiction of blood. 6) Someone throws up 7) This is my villain arc 8) Everyone is sad. 9) I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it.

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Seungcheol had requested your presence at the penthouse in the middle of the week late at night, having one of their men drive you over. Wonwoo had sent a message to your work computer about it and once you replied, it was gone. 

The man had walked you from the car, to the elevator, and to the set of double doors that separated you from the second home SVT shared. He opened the door and you entered but closed the door behind you. 

Looking about, no one else was in the penthouse from what you saw. The place was quiet and you didn’t want to poke around in their business by walking down the halls. 

“Hello?” You called out, sliding your hands into your pajama pants pockets and got closer to the hall but didn’t step through the arching barrier. “Seungcheol?” 

Was this some kind of test? You thought, furrowing your brow in confusion. 

Taking your phone from your back pocket, you pulled up his number and called, hoping to hear a ringtone but nothing came. Anxiety bubbled in your chest and you tried to call Seokmin but it went straight to voicemail. 

“What the fuck-” 

“Ma’am!” The driver threw the door open, panic in his eyes. “ King has told me to bring you somewhere else-” 

That didn’t ease the anxiety, you felt sick to your stomach. “What’s going on?” 

“I- Something has happened.” 

The car ride there was nerve wracking and each moment that past made you want to crawl out of your skin. The driver was speeding through the city towards the warehouses near the waterways, the red lights he had to stop were taunting you maliciously. He did not say a single  entire ride to the new destination. You’ve never been this far into the warehouse district and it was mostly abandoned but the building you pulled up to had Pledis Shipping written on a sign. The lights were on and the driver rushed you from the car and in through the main door. 

The openness of the building was weighing down on you, it was dizzying as unknown faces stared at you as you rushed around them towards the back. You didn’t bother to notice the crates and trucks that littered around, things being moved or looked through. You stood out for sure in some old pajama pants and bleach tarnished hoodie, not wanting to change for a simple meeting with Seungcheol. 

Ushered into the back of the building, under the second level overhang, you stopped dead in your tracks. The floor was covered in a trail of blood, still fresh by the bright color. The sight made you want to throw up. 

“-’am!” The shout had you snapping out of the trance placed upon you. 

A loud rumble of a scream down the hall had you moving once more. There in the hall was half of SVT, they were either pacing the floor or sitting on it, back pressed against the wall and heads low. Chan was hanging his head and Minghao sat beside him, rubbing his back. Seokmin was holding onto Soonyoung and Junhui like his life depended on it. Seungcheol was pacing at the far end near the door, speaking with a teary eyed Seungkwan. Wonwoo wasn’t to be seen, but you assumed he was at Pandora and was making his way down into the city as you spoke. 

“Sir I-” The driver began and you pushed passed, eyes still on the blood trail that lined the floor. 

“Mouse, you shouldn’t-” Seungcheol called out but you were already opening the door. 

“Jihoon, knock him out already!” Jeonghan yelled, trying his best to hold Mingyu down with Vernon as he thrashed and screamed out in pain. 

The room you stepped into was more of an emergency room type area. There were a few medical beds with machines beside them and cabinets upon cabinets of supplies. The left wall held two doors, both labeled ‘shower/bathroom’ for convenience. 

In the far right corner was a sectioned off with a smaller room, windows outline the top to be able to see in. Jihoon was struggling to get the needle in with how much the taller man was lashing out.

Rooted in place, you stared in disbelief at everything before you. 

Mingyu was hurt, blood was on the floors leading exactly where your gaze was placed on. Jeonghan was yelling for Jihoon to keep trying but each time it got harder and harder. 

Your feet were moving before you had a chance to think. Pulling off your sweatshirt and leaving you in the tanktop below, you hurried to the sink and washed your hands and arms as fast as you could, thankful your hair was already pulled back out of your face. You didn’t know what you were going to do to help but you needed to help. 

Jeonghan yelled your name but you ignored him. 

“Give it to me and all three of you hold him down-” Your voice was shaky but Mingyu didn’t stop thrashing on the table and he was getting blood everywhere, wasting all his energy in the pain of it.

Jihoon looked to Jeonghan for an order and he warily nodded. The syringe was placed in your hand and Jihoon moved to use all his strength to hold town Mingyu’s shoulder. You grabbed his bicep when he was stable enough and jabbed the needle into his arm, pushing the sedative. Thankfully it didn’t take long before it kicked in and the thrashing and screaming went from violent to calm, somewhat shallow breathing. 

Jeonghan grabbed surgical scissors and quickly cut open Mingyu’s shirt, revealing something you only thought you’d see in movies. In his lower right abdomen were two holes, both leaking blood at an alarming rate. You rounded the table and Jeonghan ordered Jihoon and Vernon to collect gauze, forceps, and anything else he could need. Off the counter, you grabbed a handful of gauze and started to apply pressure to the wounds the best you could. 

“I’m going to need a blood bag,” Jeonghan called out as he hooked Mingyu up to a heart monitor, blood pressure cuff, and placed an oxygen mask. Jihoon wasted no time in placing an IV and starting a saline drip to get everything going. He pushed a few small syringes of medicine through the line silently. 

Looking over to the monitor that beeped steadily with his heart rate, it was low but his blood pressure looked decent given the circumstances. The gauzes beneath your hands were getting soaked and warm blood was coating your palms and fingers. You threw the other ones aside, out of the walkway field, and grabbed more, leaning as much of your weight as you could down on the wounds. The other three were moving around you quickly but it was all a relative blur, keeping your focus on the task literally at hand. 

“Mouse, I need you to step back.” Jeonghan stated calmly. 

Lifting your head, you could see the concern on his face. His eyes were darting between Mingyu and you, keeping the best neutral face he could. You didn’t want to move, your mind was racing. 

The blood wasn’t stopping. How did this happen? Why did it happen? Is he going to die? 

Jeonghan held your stare before slowly moving his now clean hands over one of your wrist and pulled it back. 

“I’m not leaving.” You finally managed to say and he nodded again.

Dropping your hands to your side, you stepped back. In a flurry of movements, Jihoon and Jeonghan were starting their work. Vernon assisted in getting what they needed, but you lent a hand in hanging things over, grabbing more items, and overall being an extra set of hands if needed. 

You stayed quiet, watching them all work, calling things out or cursing at something going on. It was sickening and painful to watch them press and dig into the wounds, trying to find the bullets. It was clear there wasn’t an exit to both holes with how much they were frantically working. 

“Vernon, put your two fingers here.” Jeonghan pointed and without hesitation, Vernon was placing his fingers against one of Mingyu’s bullet wounds, applying the pressure asked, while Jeonghan was holding a small retractor to see inside. “ Fuck- I can’t see anything with all this blood. Give me the suction tubing.” 

Jihoon was grabbing it and the hiss the machine made as it extracted any blood from the wound sounded distant in your head. Jeonghan said something and a pair of long forceps were placed in his hands and the ends of it disappeared inside of Mingyu’s abdomen. The beeping of the monitors was the only thing grounding you to reality, letting you know that Mingyu was alive, that he was breathing, that he had a fighting chance. 

You took a few steps closer to see what was happening more clearly. Jeonghan was holding a retractor still, keeping the first wound open while Jihoon was trying to get the bleeding of the second to at least slow down. Vernon was holding gauze to catch any trailing blood and keeping his fingers right where Jeonghan had told him to. 

“I got the first one-” Jeonghan yelled out, relief flooding your mind for a moment. He was slow in taking it out to not hit anything internally and dropped the bullet on the tray to his side. “We need to get the other out and close it up quickly-” 

The machine that was monitoring Mingyu’s heart blared a loud, ear piercing alarm that had your heart dropping to your stomach. A chorus of curses were shouted out and it became clear that Mingyu was flatlining. They scrambled to start preventative measures but you were quick to move, pulling up a stool you found in the corner of the room and pushed Vernon out of the way to start CPR.

If you weren’t keeping the blood pumping through Mingyu’s body, you would have laughed. You were very angrily yelling the lyrics to ‘ Stayin’ Alive’ in your head, compressing down on his chest with all your might. If he didn’t wake up with bruised ribs, you weren’t doing it right, that’s what your first-aid instructor told you years ago.

Jihoon and Jeonghan were quick to put up the blood bag and placed another IV, saying something about him losing too much blood and needing more to sustain his heartbeat. It took a few moments and a dose of whatever medicine Jihoon pushed to help him, but the rhythmic beating of his heart came back and it was steady. 

You climbed off the stool to give space once more but adrenaline was pumping through your limbs, hands trembling and breath shaky. Blood was still coating your hands from earlier and you couldn’t bother to step outside now. Sweat clung to your skin, a gross layer that sent chills down your spine in the cool air. Jeonghan, Jihoon and Vernon were working fast but skillfully, wasting no time to get everything done. Backing up, you placed yourself against the wall and just slid down it, letting yourself rest on the floor, eyes never leaving them as they did their work. 

The tightness in your chest had you heaving breaths in and out, pulling at your shirt like it was going to help. It felt like the room was spinning, your pulse was pounding in your head and an agonizing headache debilitated you. Images you never wanted to remember flashing behind your eyelids with every blink, each chilling you to the core.

It took a good two hours for everything to be done. They found the second bullet and needed to search for any internal damage and patch up anything that was caught in the crossfire. More gauze pads were thrown on the floor, needing to have a clear field of work. You were letting the rhythmic beating of Mingyu’s heart calm you, still scared it might stop once more.

Jeonghan had requested your help towards the end with cleaning off the blood around each stitched up incision and bandaging Mingyu up. Jihoon muttered something about pushing antibiotics as a precaution which both men agreed was for the best. 

 Mingyu wasn’t out of the woods just yet, he was probably going to need one more bag of blood and it would be a waiting game of when he was going to wake up. 

Though you didn’t have to, you started to organize the tools that would need to be cleaned and sterilized, placing them all in a row by type of tool while the other three finished up. Your anxiety was fueling this tired perfectionist streak to give some sort of control to the situation. You moved more or less on autopilot, picking up gauze pads and tossing them in the biohazards trash they had in the room, seeing that your hands were already dried with blood. You used other pads to kneel down and wipe up some blood but it could only do so much, blood was horrible to clean and the iron smell was nauseating the longer you breathed it in. 

“Hey,” Jeonghan knelt down and stopped you. Your eyes were fixated on the crimson red streaking the floor. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” 

“But it’s a mess-” 

“We’ll have someone clean it up. Don’t worry about it.” Jeonghan took your hand and removed the pad from it, standing you up not a moment after. Both of you had a decent amount of blood on your hands and wrists, Jeonghan’s extending up to his elbows and definitely on his gray button up. 

 Quietly, you spoke, keeping your voice as steady as you could. “I want to stay here with him.”

“I know, I’m sure he would like that.” Jeonghan spoke softly, leading you from the surgical room and into the medical bay. “We’ll get you some clothes to change into and have you take a shower while we transfer him into a cot so he can rest, okay?” 

With a nod of your head, you were walked to the bathroom and encouraged to head in and clean up. Jeonghan told you to take as long as you needed and promised that Mingyu would be waiting right in the room when you came out. 

Left alone in the bathroom, the first thing you did was empty the entire contents of your stomach in the toilet. You had been holding it back since you had blood on your hands and the headache only pounded harder. You wanted to cry, really you should be crying, but it didn’t feel like there was anything to cry. Everything felt out of touch – numb – and you just wanted to get clean.

You didn’t know how long you were in there if you were being honest. Once the water hit your back after stripping, everything moved in slow motion. The scorching water burned, but it hurt less than the pain that thrumbed in your chest. With your head hanging, you watched as steaks of blood dripped from your wrists and hands, letting you process the last few hours. 

Mingyu nearly died. Whatever situation they found themselves in was bad enough to result in Mingyu getting shot. You didn’t pay attention to any of the guys outside earlier when hurrying passed, not knowing what their injuries were, if any at all. As you thought over the situation that you didn’t have full context to, anger was starting to build up, the burning taste of stomach acid just at the back of your throat once more.

Scrubbing every inch of your skin came after the blood was nearly water-washed off. The small hand towel and antiseptic soap was enough for the job and left your skin bright pink. A knock had you jumping and bracing yourself on the walls behind the thick shower curtain. 

“I’m just putting some clothes in here for you. He is in a proper bed once you are done washing up.” Jeonghan’s voice bounced off the walls when the door opened and was quickly closed soon after.

You finished your shower and toweled off, tossing on the sweater and joggers provided, each item warm and soft against your irritated skin. Letting the towel rest atop your head to catch any droplets of water, you checked yourself in the mirror, wiping the fog off the surface with a hand. Through the clouded image of yourself, you could see that you looked pale. Your eyes drooped but you knew you weren't going to get any sleep tonight between staring at Mingyu’s heart monitor and waiting for him to wake up. The headache was still a dull ache behind your eyes. 

Shaking off the discomfort, you tugged the towel from your head and pushed the door to the bathroom open, your socked feet shuffling against the clean white floors. 

“-Know she was gonna rush in-” Seungcheol whispered to Joshua and Jeonghan, throwing his hands up in defeat, the three standing off towards the entrance of the room. “She just went in on her own.” 

The room was flooded with all of SVT. Vernon, Jihoon, and Jeonghan had showered in less time than it took for you to. Wonwoo was sitting beside Mingyu’s bed, head against the edge of the mattress. Seungkwan was hugging Vernon’s side, dried layers of tears still streaking his cheeks, eyes red and puffy. Minghao and Junhui stood at the foot of the bed, Minghao’s hands gripping the end of the bed frame to the point his knuckles were turning white. Jihoon was grabbing some medicine from the cabinet to your right, mumbling something you couldn’t catch under his breath. Seokmin, Soonyoung, and Chan were sitting opposite Wonwoo, the youngest holding Mingyu’s hand tightly. 

“That isn’t an excuse, you should have stopped her-” Joshua scolded in a hushed voice. They weren't as quiet as they thought, but everything felt too loud and too bright. The overstimulation that coursed through you was dreadful. 

Ignoring them, you walked over to Wonwoo’s side of the bed and dropped a hand gently on his back, letting your nails drag against the fabric of his t-shirt. He didn’t lift his head but he didn’t make you stop so you used it as a way to soothe yourself, knowing that you could be providing a smidge of comfort to someone else. None of you spoke around the bed, there wasn’t a need to. It smelled too clean now that you’ve showered. Your feet were cold against the vinyl flooring. The image of a blood covered Mingyu kept flashing in your mind.

“Enough.” Jeonghan said, louder than the two. “It’s over, let’s get through this.” 

“SVT,” Seungcheol’s voice rang out and most of them looked to their leader, Wonwoo even lifting his head. “Jeonghan can’t have the horde here all night, you know his rules.” 

A few grumbles of protest followed. 

“If you want to sleep upstairs on the couches, the floor up there, I don’t care, but I need you out. I don’t need to have to push you all aside and have you crowd my field if anything is to happen.” Jeonghan crossed his arms. “And don’t argue, this was the same with Seokmin and Jihoon. I’ll be here all night with Jihoon.” 

Another wave of protests followed. Seungkwan looked ready to cry again. Their love for the tallest was heartwarming but Jeonghan was right. Though this wasn’t a hospital, it was enough of a medical room to warrant the need for space in preparation for any disaster. They were averse to the idea of leaving, but with more prodding from Seungcheol that Mingyu would be fine and they needed to sleep, they left one by one. Jihoon administered whatever he grabbed earlier with more space and checked each machine to make sure it was hooked up properly, leaving once he was finished up. The oldest three stayed near the door and Wonwoo was the last of the younger ones to leave but you continued to rub his back. 

“Wonwoo,” You said barely above a whisper, letting your fingers draw continuous patterns on his back. “I’ll stay here, you know I won’t let anything happen.” 

He lifted his head to look at you, eyes shiny from unshed tears. His eyes study you, likely looking just as hollow and worried as he was. “Call me if anything changes.” 

Giving him a nod, you stepped back to let him leave, filling the space where he sat previously. You scooted the chair a little closer and gently took Mingyu’s much larger hand into your own, turning it slowly into a more comfortable position. Any move you made scared you enough to think it was going to hurt him. 

“Jihoon, go up and take a break, I’ll handle the rest for a bit.” You heard Jeonghan and footsteps out the door were a signal the shorter man left. 

The three chairs across from you were soon filled, the three oldest deflating and taking a breath for what felt like the first time all day. Raising your eyes to them, Joshua was rubbing his face and pushing his hair back, Seungcheol was slouched, head hanging back with his eyes closed and Jeonghan looked exhausted, slightly more composed then the other two but you could see the worry behind his eyes. It might have been hard on them, they were the heads of the whole operation. You wouldn’t be surprised if the three blamed themselves for what happened to Mingyu. 

“Tell me what happened.” You broke the shell of silence, keeping your voice low as if it would disturb the man knocked out before you. 

Seungcheol sighed but didn’t move. “They were at that building where you first saw us. We bought it as extra storage. One of the distributors we had was trying to two time us, Mingyu was there helping oversee the hand offs with Chan, Soonyoung, and Jihoon. God, he wasn’t even supposed to be there but another person was needed because of how large the case was.” You’ve never heard Seungcheol more upset since knowing him. There was a shake to his voice that had your heart breaking. “Shots were fired and Mingyu got hit twice since he was the closest to the fuckers. Soonyoung drove here as fast as he could and he got here not even ten minutes before you showed up.”

“Did they get-” 

“They handled it.” Joshua answered before you could fully get the question out. 

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you let your thumb run over Mingyu’s knuckles, watching the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. “If you three want to take some time to rest, I’m not moving.” 

Joshua shook his head, “You don’t have to, Mouse. We can have someone take you home.” 

Your eyes moved to him and your eyes narrowed in a glare. “I’m not moving.” You repeated sternly. 

“Ah, if looks could kill.” Jeonghan tried to lighten the mood with some humor, but you moved the glare to him and even he tensed up at your icy gaze. “...Sorry.” 

Seungcheol met you with a glare of his own, thick eyebrows drawn together in a frown. 

Should you have backed down? Yeah, probably. But really you knew that they needed a moment to collect themselves and you needed a moment to try and wipe the traumatizing image of Mingyu flatlining from your memory by watching him. 

You held his glare, tightening your hold on Mingyu’s hand, mirroring him with a frown of your own. In the moment, you weren’t scared of Seungcheol, not that you were fully scared after the many encounters you’ve had with him. Sure, he could threaten to kill you, you’ve probably done more than enough for him to toss you to the curb. He could actually kill you to tie up loose ends for all you cared, but you weren’t going to move from this spot until Mingyu woke up. You’d go out kicking and screaming if they tried to drag you out. 

“Cheol, I don’t think we are winning this one.” Joshua placed a hand on Seungcheol’s leg and patted it. “And before you think it, I don’t think threatening her will make her back down.” 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m exhausted so I’m not even going to fight you, Mouse. I’ll have Jihoon and I switch out every hour to check up on things.” He stood and stretched, long limbs playfully hitting against his friends. Both swatted him away. 

Seungcheol grumbled out a ‘ Fine’ before raising to his feet. Joshua followed behind the oldest as he exited and Jeonghan went to a cabinet and grabbed a neatly folded blanket. He returned and unfolded it, draping it over you to keep you warm. He ruffled your still wet hair and soon left. When the door closed, you leaned forward and folded your arm to cradle your head against the mattress. Really you more collapsed than anything, criss crossing your legs in the chair to get comfortable the best you could. 

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@unlikelysublimekryptonite @iiaweirdo @aurorajoye

[beelzeballing]

i am going to need to brute force this, arent i. well. HELLO MUTUALS. youre not going anywhere YOU ARE STAYING RIGHT HERE and i will explain GNOSIA CHARACTERS to you. do with this what you will.

SETSU: nonbinary legend. deutaroganist. very smart and kind but they also throw a guy out of the airlock for being annoying, calling them babe and misgendering them. everyone wants them, fish fear them.

RAQIO/RACIO: nonbinary legend number TWO. know it all little BASTARD. their hobbies include a little trolling, having a superiority complex and betraying their allies if currently convenient. i absolutely adore them.

YURIKO: fucked up cyber space-shrine maiden. LITERALLY yoinks the protagonist's plot armor after the tutorial is over. she is extremely scary

SHIGEMICHI: this is an 80 y/o human man who had an accident as a child and because he had a fucking special interest in aliens or smn like that his dad got him some shiny new skin. which makes him look like a stereotypical alien. hes as silly and goofy as he looks. an absolute FOOL. i love him.

STELLA: the ship AI. just wants to be A Real Boy. PAINFULLY heterosexual but she's very sweet.

JONAS: ship captain. he is so fucked up i dont even know whats wrong with him JUST LOOK AT HIM. fucking SPACE COWBOY. hes a weirdo. he doesn't fit in and he doesn't wanna fit in. i have never seen him without that stupid hat on. thats weird.

KUKRUSHKA: mute but like. i dont fucking know, ~telepathatically~ communicates. something is also wrong with her. one time she asked me to take a bunch of people out for her because she Didnt Trust Them and i did! and then she killed me. cunt. shes also like? a doll???

SQ: canonically a test tube baby. local bisexual gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss. she's a bit of a manipulative bitch but we love her for it.

CHIPIE: LITERALLY cat otherkin. has an entire cat thats been transplanted into his neck to aid with his transition into a cat. i swear to god im not fucking with you.

OTOME: beluga whale. BELUGA WHALE. IN A LITTLE CART. WITH LITTLE MECHANICAL HANDS. ARE YOU SEEING THIS SHIT. HELLO? HELLO??????

i ran out of PICTURES PER POST. I HATE YOU TUMBLR. theres a couple of characters missing (namely sha-ming, gina, comet and remnan) but i made sure to have the most relevant ones here. but tl;dr

sha-ming is the guy who gets thrown out of the airlock for getting on setsu's nerves

gina is literally just some chick

comet is the host for an alien space mold that can break loose and kill everyone on the ship

remnan is honestly more anxiety than man

[lovelytsunoda]

careful daughter // marcus armstrong

summary: she's always been the careful daughter. when she slips up on a final exam, marcus knows jsut how to make everything better. or, where he fell in love with a careful man's once careless daughter.

warnings: talks of past regrets

pairing: marcus armstrong x female! reader

she knew she'd bottled it almost as soon as she'd handed in the paper

even though she'd looked it over, confused and frustrated, four separate times, she was one of the first to hand it in

the perfect student who looked like she was always on top of things, the smartest in the room

but she didn't feel like it as she walked towards the campus parking lot, a pit in her stomach as she waited for marcus

since she didn't need to be at the campus for long, he said he'd drop her off before the exam, and then take her out to dinner afterwards

and god did she need marcus cornelius armstrong right now.

she needed him to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be fine.

"princess, what's wrong?" marcus asks her, the air in his bmw heavy with the anxiety radiating off his girlfriend

"i fucked up, marcus. the most important exam of my college career, and i think i bottled it."

"oh, honey. i'm sorry." marcus frowns, taking her hand in his.

he doesn't know what to do

roles are usually reversed because he's the one bottling something (a.k.a his entire formula 2 season)

he takes her to a fifties themed diner, some place nice and quiet

not exactly romantic, but he hopes it might be able to cheer her up

they order burgers, fries and milkshakes, with a basket of onion rings to share

"i used to be an awful person, marcus. i allowed myself to be defined by one thing and i thought that other people didn't like me, so i pushed them away before they got the chance to really get to know me. i thought i was stopping myself from getting hurt, that i was the only person i needed. i wasted so much time being that person, and now that i'm not, i've spent so much time trying to figure out who i actually am. i have days where i regret every single decision that i have ever made. and what if i'm wasting more time now on a major that's not meant for me?"

and marcus is shocked, for the first time in his life, he's speechless

"baby, listen to me. you aren't that girl any more, and you don't have to be, either. it's just one test. i know first hand how much effort you have put into this course. and you are so fucking good at it, princess. you are going to be the best in your field. none of this has been a waste of time, yeah?"

there's a jukebox in the corner, and he knows just what to do

he gets up, puts a quarter in the record machine

and selects a dolly parton song that he knows is going to make y/n laugh

"tumble out of bed, and stumble into the kitchen, pour myself a cup of ambition"

he knows his singing and dancing routine is awful, all shrugged shoulders and foot-shuffling as his glasses slide down his nose

despite everything, she's laughing, her face lighting up as marcus invites her out onto the tile floor to dance with him to '9 to 5'

and how can she be upset around someone as lighthearted and full of love and life as marcus cornelius armstrong?

the song changes to an aerosmith ballad, for the jukebox is only equipped with the classics

and their food is practically forgotten as they sway together in the middle of the diner to 'i don't want to miss a thing'

and for once, she's not worried about her test, or her grades

she knows she's going to be okay in the end

[shinsouscatpisssmell]

Other woman

Pt.2

"Hey you there?!I-I'm pregnant." You sniffle into the phone. Eyes red and swollen from crying since you came home from the doctors' appointment. The one person who held your heart. The father of your future child was dead silent on the other end making the pit of anxiety that was in your stomach grow bigger. It makes your mind drift as you subconsciously rub your stomach.

To think it all started with just a few words.

"Hey you lost?" You look up at the the dark haired male who's hand is on your shoulder. Shaking you out of your thoughts.

"No, I just came looking for my friend. You might know him. He's name is Atsumu Miya? I'm trying to surprise him but I can't seem to find him." You place the picnic basket down and crack your back and hands from the heavy basket.

"You just missed him. He left like 5 minutes ago." You could feel his eye roll even though his face remained stoic as he huffed barely for you to hear it.

"Are ya serious? Imma kill that 'samu. Always givin' me the wrong information." you storm off to the double doors and tap your foot with heat to it pressing your phone against your ear.

" 'samu? Imma kill ya when i see ya just so you know. What do ya mean what do i mean? 'tsumu isnt here! Ya said they would still be practicin'. Im breakin all yer windows. What? Hes there? Ok ill see ya in 5. Better keep yer lips shut tight so this surprise aint spoiled. And fuck no my accent aint slippin." you press the end bottom and take a few breathes in and our before making you way over to the fox like man.

"thank you i found him. You can keep the basket...?" You pause for a name while handing him the brown woven basket.

"Rintaro. Suna rintaro" he said as he takes the basket from you making you smile.

"well rintaro. Suna rintaro. I better be going before I miss him again. I hope we cross paths again." Letting out giggles as you scamper away leaving the brown haired boy craving your presence more.

And more is what you gave.

It started when he asked for your name and number when you came with Osamu to one of his games. Looking so pretty in your jeans hugging your curves and cropped shirt. Soon becoming an inside joke between you two that pressed the boundaries of friendship and turned it into one of lovers.

"you're so beautiful (y/n). I want to marry you one day." he makes this promise under the moonlight laying kisses om your hands and rubbing your knuckles so tenderly like you were only his. Only meant to fit this two person sized puzzle.

It was two months later you started feeling sick. Throwing up with your tummy cramping from here to here and feeling like you would pass out. You waited to see blood appear due to it possibly just being the chance of your first day period cramps. It never showed up and a week past the day it was scheduled to start it never did.

This made you rush to the hospital with your two best friends in tow. asking the doctor if you had some sort of zombie disease making you throw up everything you eat.  He takes some of your blood and urine to test.

It seemed like hours before the test were done.

"all im sayin' is why did he have to take both yer blood and piss. Hes either a vampire or he has a piss kink.maybe both" atsumu comes up with his conspiracy theory as he gets smacked in the back of the head by osamu.

"He aint got no damn piss kink and he aint a vampire. Yer the reason why (y/n) asked that stupid ass question about zombie diseases." He clicks his tongue before going back to holding your hand rubbing it to calm you down.

"Well 'smau. Ya never know?! They're some real sickos out there that wants to get ahold of someone like , (y/n)'s, piss." He rubs the back of his head, "speakin of piss where'd Suna piss off too?"

"He hasn't been picking up my calls. I know he goes M.i.a sometimes but I'd rather have him here then piss kink boy." You laugh snuggling into Osamu's side as he makes you scoot over so he could sit on the bed with you.

"Watch. He's gonna come in here talkin only about your blood and it'll show yer doctor does indeed have a piss kink." He turns his nose upward and hmphs.

"C'mon and cuddle me 'tsumu. I need my piss hair friend to cuddle me with comfort." Osamu joining with you in laughing as his twin begrudgingly comes over grumbling.

There's 3 knocks on the door before you announce that they may enters. The doctor with the clipboard and a packet of stapled paper with material that clued to her side.

"We did some test on your blood and you're urine and congratulations ms.(l/n) you are pregnant." It felt like time stopped. The twins could feel you tense up.Atsumu coughing up a storm after swallowing his saliva the wrong way but still trying to comfort you while Osamu listened to what else the doctor said, " this is a packet of information on pregnancy. It contains what can and cannot be eaten,Exercises that would help , and trimester information. Right now she is still in first trimester and needs to be very careful with things and stress for they could be harmful to the babies."

"what about a-abortion?" you look at her with watery eyes as she look at your dishevled apperance.

"that is an option ms.(l/n). Take your time and consider it over and if you still want to go through it. We will set up a date when you come back." The doctor hands over the document and leaves the room.

You wait until she leaves to turn into a sobbing mess leaving stains onto Astumu's shirt who pats your back.

"cmon now (y/n). Ya heard the doc crying ain't good for you or the baby." you sniffle and dry your face letting the disgusted face of Atsumu make you laugh quietly.

"Are you gonna tell suna? He is the father right?" samu asked getting swatted by his twin.

"of cours' hes the father you tryna say my best friend hussy?"

"no you idiot. Im sayin' suna aint always around so maybe she looked for other people."

"yer calling her a hussy dumbass."

"piss hair."

"yer onigiri sucks."

And thats how you end up calling suna 12 times since you came back home. Silently crying as each time it went to voicemail was a stab in the gut while the knife twisted. You gave up after the 12th one just laying next to your phone bawling your eyes out until 30 minutes pass and you recieved a call for suna.

"Suna? Hey you there?" you called into the phone but only met with silence, "h-hey you there? I-im pregnant suna. I don't know what to do im ao scared. Please come over." you cry into the phone breathe hitching as you are met with a feminine voice.

"What's your name?" you could hear the crack in the female voice.

"my name is (y/n). Are you suna's friend? I-is he there?" you ask scarily heart pumping with adrenaline waiting for her awnser and soon flatlining when she gave it.

"I'm his wife of 2 yrs." she says and you stutter out a sorry and cry to her that you didn't know he was married.

"It's ok ,love. It's not your fault I put all the blame on him. W-would you meet me later this week? So we both can get some closure." You could hear her tears fall making your heart clench as you tell her yes. She hung up as soon as you could hear Suna in the background.

Now you where curled up with a pillow. Sitting alone with the thoughts of you were the home wrecker. The mistress. The other woman in suna's

An// this is a reupload 🫡